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marshmallowloves · 2 years

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Zelda OC #5 - Koci and Rina

>> (list of posts for other OCs)

(Same warning as last time - due to the amount of development that went into this one, it's gonna be a real doozy! Be prepared for a very long read!)

Tesni's development from beginning to end took place over the course of several years, but I never considered her a self insert until very recently. I actually didn't start getting into making self inserts (the most thinly-veiled ones, anyway) as a whole until I had begun to flesh out Tesni's current origin story, but that was about to change!

On a whim one day, I thought about what race in the Zelda universe I might be if I were to just plop myself in there. I considered traits about the different races that I liked, what fit me most in terms of personality... Like my own completely-daydreamed uquiz, before I even knew uquiz existed. And in that imagined uquiz, I ended up with Kokiri - I'm short, look way younger than I actually am, love music and wooded areas, and am a child at heart. I thought it fit pretty well! Plus, I always did like the Kokiri for their whimsical forest-dwelling aesthetic - heck, Saria was literally the reason I made my very first Zelda OC!

So for shits and giggles, I scribbled on a paper, word for word, "If Cici were in Zelda, she'd be a Kokiri" and underneath that I drew the very first iterations of Koci and Rina, who would remain as my main Zelda OCs/self insert to this day.

Koci and Rina were actually first named Lyot and Zumi, respectively. "Lyot's" design would remain relatively consistent for a very long time throughout her development - a WW-style sleeveless tunic, detached sleeves with loose ends, and knee-high (sometimes thigh-high) boots. Her fairy only stays purple for this particular drawing, however. In fact, there was barely any time between this drawing and the next when I decided to change their names entirely.

"Lyot" simply became my name - Cici - which really just solidified the fact that this was a self insert through and through. Meanwhile "Zumi" became Rina - and Rina has a real life story!

To condense it as much as I can, I once had a very vivid dream about an angel with jade green rings around her wrists. In the dream, she'd transfer them onto my wrists as a form of protection and carry me around outside to show me how my neighborhood looked at night. I woke up with absolutely convinced I had met my guardian angel, but I lamented having never seen her face (specifically, her eyes were shadowed over) nor learned her name. I called her the "Ring Angel" for the longest time, but wanted to condense it whenever I wrote about her, so I shortened it to "Rina." So in this instance, Rina became Cici's guardian fairy.

Like I said, the designs remained largely the same. The differences here were Cici's longer hair (which from this point on tends to switch back and forth from the short hair again), the snowflake hair clip, and the diamond earring - which was absolutely 100% intended to mimic Ghirahim's earring, because I was still thirsty for him (I was still developing Tesni alongside Cici!) Later on, Cici also got glasses. Not really sure why I didn't draw them up there dkjfg.

Additionally, to reflect her origin, Rina's color changed from purple to a faded green, and I made it a point to always draw her with her eyes shut. After that, her design has barely changed to this day.

Being a self-insert, Cici's personality was more in line with mine - quiet, kind of weird, a bit childish, and naive to a degree. Despite her being a Kokiri, she had the mental maturity of an adult, since I would feel really weird making what was supposed to be a self insert have the mind of a literal child. It was more like "I am very much an adult in nearly every aspect but now I am just smaller."

Unlike my other OCs at the time, Cici didn't really have an origin story or a purpose. I mostly just drew her in random silly situations, comics, and RP'd with friends about various Zelda stuff. I didn't bother sticking to any one canon world - she'd interact with Ghirahim because at the time, I didn't consider Tesni a self insert, but now I was much more shameless about my attraction for him.

Since I had self inserts named Cici for other fandoms at the time, I referred to this one as Kokiri Cici and later shortened that to Kocici to save a little time. For the longest time Kocici remained this silly, fun little vessel for memes, doodles, and overall just having a good time while I played and talked about Zelda games with friends. In some instances, Kocici was just with Rina. In others she was with her Zora brother, Kodi, and in others still she was goofin' it up with my friends' self inserts - well, Lee's, mostly.

However, it was around the time I played BOTW and started shipping with Link that I decided to flesh out Kocici. One of the first things I did was change her name once more, to something that both held onto the origins of Kocici and sounded a little more "Zelda" to boot - Koci! And thanks to Lee's wonderful art skills, I was blessed with a concept for Koci that would become her staple design to this day~ Here's a quick, plain version of it!

Now's where things get juicy! Koci's personality remained about the same - she is a self insert, after all. However, her story changed heavily depending on what world she was in! I have three different versions of her, so three different stories! They're a bit of a read (I know, there's already so much in this post kjdfg) so feel free to skim or skip to the end.

After Tesni was finally christened a self insert, I no longer had a need for Koci and Ghirahim to interact, save for a bit of dialogue I wrote for shits and giggles if Koci were in Hyrule Warriors. So we can skip that. XD

In Breath of the Wild, Koci is born in the Korok Forest shortly before the Calamity, as the only Kokiri amongst her Korok siblings. The Goddess, anticipating this, instructs the Great Deku Tree to raise Koci so that she may learn to protect and bless the Master Sword for the hero to claim when the time comes. The Goddess sends down Rina, an angel in the form of a guardian fairy, to aid Koci in these blessings and teach her that this duty is given to her by the Goddess herself. In addition to Rina providing her with the sacred magic needed to bless the blade, Koci also grows up learning basic combat to fend off anyone who may threaten it.

Since Koci is sworn to the Master Sword's protection, when Link first comes to claim it, Koci and Rina accompany him in order to ensure it remains at its full strength. When Link is forced to undergo his restorative slumber, Koci and Rina return to the Korok forest to continue their duties while they wait for him to awaken. This version of Koci easily has had the most thought and substance put into her. This is the condensed version, and it would take a lot more text and time to explain it all! So I'll cut it here.

In Phantom Hourglass, Koci takes the role of Link and Hadiyah (Lee's self insert) takes the role of Tetra... though it's a bit different skdjf. Hadiyah has, to put it bluntly, gone on a fuck-quest to find Ganondorf... with the intention of bedding/marrying him... and not even saying bye??? So Koci, being a decent portion of Hadiyah's impulse control, sets off to search for her friend and hopefully knock some sense into her. With the minimal sailing knowledge she's inexplicably gained from Wind Waker (where did this happen? did she replace Link there too? who knows, not me kdjfg) she and Rina craft themselves a dingy little boat that promptly gets obliterated in a storm not 2 hours from their starting point...

Later, an unconscious Koci is discovered floating on a piece of her boat by none other than Linebeck who, despite being kind of a jerk is not actually a complete jerk. So he plucks her and the fairy bottle she's clutching from the water and at the very least ensures they don't succumb to hypothermia, and when Koci wakes, she and Rina explain that they're looking for their friend. From that point on, they basically follow the plot of the game~

And lastly, in A Link Between Worlds, old texts describe the Kokiri as an elusive race that were known and adored for their eternal, youthful beauty - so much so, that ages ago Kokiri were often captured and kept in the homes of corrupt Hylians as trophies. The Kokiri that avoided this fate sunk deeper into hiding until many thought they disappeared entirely. Koci grows up in her home village hearing these stories, and decides she doesn't want to hide like the rest of her people. She learns to defend herself and sets out with Rina to explore the rest of the world, but is still sometimes plagued with inexplicable nightmares of a particularly powerful captor who is rumored to still be alive today...

Yuga, still on his quest for beauty, decides based on these texts that he must have one of these lovely beings to himself to preserve in painting form. The "elusive" part holds true, as the sorcerer scours every corner of the land for one of these forest-dwelling treasures. When he happens upon Koci, he is upfront about his intentions. Koci, fearful that this is the captor from her nightmare but in disguise, fights back and manages to nearly kill him, but Yuga offers a deal - spare him, and he'll help her find the real captor. At first it's a thinly-veiled ploy to gain her trust and later backstab/capture her, and Koci knows this, but she agrees only because his power would be useful in the search for this person. Over time, their dynamic goes from "enemies" to "I'll tolerate you because you're useful to me" to "you're not the worst person on the earth" to "why do I like you" to "ah damn it we accidentally became romantically involved" kjdfhg

Though the stories are different, some things about Koci and Rina remain relatively consistent between them - Rina is always an angel in the form of a fairy, and Koci's weapons are always twin morningstar flails (though depending on what the story calls for, she can wield other basic items like bombs and such). I have other small headcanons about them, but I think this post is long enough!

And so ends the long road to crafting my main Zelda self insert that I use to this day! (And when BOTW2 finally comes out, expect to see a lot more of Koci and Rina~)

#zelda #legend of zelda #loz #oc #self insert #Koci #Rina #Koci and Rina

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tohandatla · 6 months

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What are your previous Golden Guard headcanons?

BIRDIE MY BELOVED.

The first thing you need to know is that Birdie is a girl. A trans girl! And I am Not arguing on the specifics of what sex the Golden Guards are bc frankly I Don’t Care. Schrödinger’s gender baby they’re all simultaneously trans and cis. None of my Business. But she is a girl who would really like to kiss other girls <3

ANYWAY Birdie is Not her actual name. Bc she doesn’t Have one. Though I think she might have eventually landed on Birdie as her name if she survived long enough to think about it. But for both Transing her gender reasons and also bc she’s a lil shit she changed her name like allll the time. Completely on a whim. The only thing all of her names had in common was that she kept naming herself after random birds (hence Birdie). Jackdaw, Bluejay, Canary, Nightingale, etc. Darius tended to just riff off of whatever bird she’s chosen today and move on bc he can’t be assed to come up with a new creative nickname every day. Iconic. But he eventually started calling her Birdie to keep his sanity lol

Birdie was young in all aspects, really. She silently replaced the Guard that had been with Belos when he rose to power, whom had served Belos for like 20 years at that point. Most thought they were the same person, though some who had been around the old Guard noticed she was bit Off. I used to have a more solid timeline on when she came out of the ground and her age in relation to the Guard before her & Darius & Belos’ rule but I have since lost it and I am SO bad at math so I’ve been putting it off lmao. The broad strokes is that she came out of the ground as a teenager and was 2-4 years older than Darius “biologically” but significantly younger than him chronologically. They started their mentorship when Darius was 16, though they met when he was 14 and had regular interactions because of his initial mentorship with the previous Head of abomination. Darius was one of the few people who knew that she had replaced the old Guard.

Her relationship with Belos was… hm. Well. Rocky is a nice way of putting it. She served him loyally initially, but she was a curious person by nature and she never took anything at face value. Inevitably, she began asking questions. And when Belos didn’t give her satisfactory answers, she went to find her own. She didn’t have the all-consuming trust in Belos that most of the other guards did on account of Belos creating her as a teenager, instead of a younger, easier to manipulate child. She trusted him, of course, but hadn’t served him very long and didn’t have years of his gaslighting muddying the waters. He rushed her creation, admittedly, and didn’t handle her with the same careful manipulations as most of the other guards since he was trying to set his long-awaited plans in motion. She had been created to fill the space at his side, as he couldn’t be without a golden guard at that time, since he was just starting to enact his anti-wild witch policies. Overtime, her curiosity turned into subtle rebellion, and that in addition to her transition put her at constant odds with Belos. This paragraph doesn’t do them justice, but my brains mush rn so I’ll have to talk more in depth about them some other time. But also the only thing belos hates more than witches is Women. Birdie is a girl with his brothers face. You Know How He Is.

She died trying to kill Belos. Very brazenly. It was entirely based on impulse and a Very Bad Idea.

Her head got chopped off.

Birdie, when not donning the Golden Guard persona, was an absolute MENACE. She was sooooo annoying. In a similar way to Hunter as the Guard, honestly, but less condescending and more Loud & Obnoxious. Also she was significantly more willing to bite people. Which is saying a lot because Hunter bites a lot of people. Her GG persona was based off the previous Guard, who was almost entirely silent and only ever spoke when spoken to by Belos or a Head.

She was also suuuuper angry. All the time. She was fun and chill with her friends and No One Else. She was absolutely fuming 24/7 even if she could rarely express it through anything that wasn’t Violence. But had she lived into a full adulthood she would have chilled out and become a super cool but wildly irresponsible lesbian aunt.

She wanted to be a bard soooo bad. She LOVED music. And magic!

She was kind of a dumbass teenager and I love that for her, honestly. She and Darius did Stupid Teenager Things whenever they could. Granted some of their Stupid Teenager Things involved a lot more underground fighting rings, accidental vigilantism, breaking the laws of nature and arson but that’s another story.

Darius and Birdie were BEST FRIENDS, okay. Platonic Soulmates. Up until the point that it would be funnier for them to be dating. Then they were dating until it stopped being Funny. This was a constant loop that neither took seriously. (They were of all each other had, at the time.)

Both of them live and die for the Bit. Yes/and is their life’s motto. This has gotten them into just as much trouble as it’s gotten them out of.

Darius and Birdie had a small group of friends, for a while. They were a bubbly bunch of Coven Scouts. They befriended Darius (read: forcefully adopted) initially and Birdie got absorbed into their group despite her insistence on being their rival bc they “stole her trainee”. The coven scouts were a good bit older than both of them and eventually made it to elite squad status. They all ended up dying, except for one. She’s still alive, but Darius cut her off after Birdie’s death.

Darius first thought when he saw Hunter’s face was “WHEN did birdie have time to procreate” followed by a slightly hysterical “I can’t believe she cheated on me”. He continues to think he’s Birdie’s kid until Hunter outright tells him about the grimwalker thing and he has a Crisis about it

I have an au where Darius and Birdie panic-kidnap Hunter and dip. They get the hagsquad involved Against Their Will. Questionable parenting abound. It’s fun!

This does NOT do her ANY justice but I can’t think rn :(( if you’d like to know something actually substantial about her lmk!!

#FUN FACT I actually have another version of Darius mentor named Jasper #and he’s super fun too and I looove himmm and I think he probably makes more sense for TOH and Darius as a character #BUT BIRDIE IS MY BABY AND I LOVE HER.#toh #not proofread bc if I stopped to think about what I was typing I would have gotten too nervous to post #darius deamonne #oc: Birdie #anon ask #mine

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tobesobri · 4 years

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When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

my masterlist 🎃 my askbox

𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

#sorry if there are spelling or grammar errors #im just glad to have written something tbh #but yeah let me know what you think! and i hope you all have a great halloween and that you're staying safe!#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

A Sea of Fragments II

Part I here

Word Count: 2,516

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Second chapter here we go! I’ve been very excited to continue this series, and I hope you find it as fun to read as it was to write. I already have mapped out a plan for where the story is going, though I’m not sure how many chapters it will take. We’ll see how it goes!

Dear Signora,

I am happy to inform you that the task you sent me has been completed. The fortune teller, though they still refuse to reveal their name, appears to be somewhat legitimate. I’m not sure what you’re going to do with this information, but I hope you’re prepared for a difficult time, as…

Scaramouche sighed, putting his pen down, although not after scribbling haphazardly on the paper in front of him. It had been two weeks since he’d first recruited the mysterious clairvoyant, and altogether nothing of consequence had happened. Not for lack of trying, of course; the Harbinger had taken to banging on the door of an inn almost every day, demanding that the unwilling coworker inside come out and do something. Honestly Scaramouche was surprised he hadn’t been asked to vacate the premises at this point, though of course that wouldn’t’ve stopped him. Still it was becoming a tiring ritual, and though Scaramouche himself wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant when he suggested you work with him, he was certain this wasn’t it. Something had to happen, and soon. If not, well the Harbinger wasn’t above kidnapping unwilling colleagues; regardless of their threats to burn down his living space.

“At the very least I’m getting them out of that damned inn.” Scaramouche muttered to himself, for the time wasted was appalling, the inn being located not in your own village, the closest villager to the camp, but in one farther away. Standing up, crumpling the unfinished letter in his hands and throwing it into the trash, Scaramouche walked out of his tent and towards the now all too familiar road. He wasn’t doing this anymore.

Walking along the road, unfortunately there were no waypoints in villages this small, Scaramouche thought over the whole matter once more. He’d not expected you to agree to his offer of working with him, especially not after supposedly reading his future. Nor had he expected to truly believe you. And yet something about your demeanor had certainly changed since you’d looked into his future, accepting his proposal aside. Scaramouche wasn’t one to pry about such things, he didn’t really care what you saw in his future, especially after your revelation that doing so wasn’t an exact science. He had to admit though that the longer this went on the more he wondered what exactly you had seen. What had you seen to make you agree to his proposal, then refuse to even open your door to him? Or had you simply said yes on a whim and were now regretting your decision?

It was baffling to Scaramouche, and what he didn’t know or understand irritated him. He was a harbinger, and though you might’ve been blessed by the gods or some such thing, you’d still agreed to work with him. He’d see this through, if it was the last thing he did.

The inn was just as rundown as it had been the day before, and Scaramouche’s feet dragged as he made his way up the stairs towards the offending door. Knocking as softly as he could, not wanting to bother the other rooms and get kicked out, he called out. “It’s time for you to get to work. You’ve had two weeks to recover from whatever shock you’d had in the woods, and now you must uphold your promise.”

You stared at the door, still lying on the bed, the place where you’d spent most of your time recently. This routine had played out for two weeks, and you were becoming tired of it. Honestly, couldn’t the idiot realize when he wasn’t wanted? You thought that you’d made it clear enough.

Ignoring the banging for a moment you stared up at the ceiling. Two weeks, for two weeks you’d agonized over what you’d seen. What you’d expected to be dulled by time still came as a shock, and if you closed your eyes the image of you smiling at the Harbinger danced around in front of you. You didn’t regret your decision to work with Scaramouche, the determination for a better future still lay firmly in your heart; but you hadn’t realized how much personal agony it would cost. Certainly your now conflicting feelings weren’t helping, as you couldn’t help but wonder if your sudden awareness of the person now knocking on your door was caused by anything genuine, or simply by what you saw might come to pass.

The knocking was louder now, and you groaned, dragging yourself out of bed, thankful that you’d at least had the sense to have changed out of your pajamas. You were going to answer him today. It was what you’d been telling yourself all morning. You couldn’t live at this inn forever, the bill was beginning to rack up terribly. And, conflicting feelings or not, you weren’t about to steal away in the middle of the night. That would be perhaps the stupidest move one could make when dealing with a Fatui harbinger to whom one had made a promise.

Scaramouche let out a huff of surprise and relief as the door suddenly began to make way. This was some progress. Usually your early morning conversation was shouted through the closed door. Although you barely appeared from behind the door at first Scaramouche could see the improvement in your health. At least now you didn’t look to be constantly seconds away from once more passing out. As if reading these less than generous thoughts you scowled. Looking around, as if making sure there was no one around, you grabbed Scaramouche by the wrist and dragged him into the room, closing the door with a firm click behind you.

Though the inn was certainly bedraggled, the room you were housed in seemed nice enough. The furniture was sparse, only a bed, a small table, a chair, and a pair of sad looking dressers. Sitting down cross legged on the bed you pointed towards the chair. Smirking, Scaramouche sat down.

“Are we not talking today?” He asked snidely.

“Nice to know your personality hasn’t improved.” You shot back.

“Maybe I’d be a bit more amenable if you had left this room at all in the past two weeks. Do you even eat?”

“Thank you for so graciously caring for my wellbeing, but I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“We had an agreement.”

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you hold to it?” Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, his temper wearing increasingly thin. He didn’t like yelling, found it beneath him; yet right now he wanted nothing more than to find some secluded area and scream. Letting out a hiss of a breath he shook his head. “Why did you let me in if you won’t even look at me?”

As if on cue your head snapped forwards. Although it seemed as if you were about to say something your expression quickly shifted into something unreadable. You said nothing, simply staring at him, that odd, opaque expression leading him to silence as well. The transformation was so sudden that it managed to throw the Harbinger completely off guard, and he found himself scrutinizing you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking of.

As you continued to stare at him Scaramouche realized that he was losing time. Shaking his head slightly, he spoke again.

“I want you to move into the camp.”

“Over my dead body.” You replied venomously, the spell obviously broken. “I refuse to live surrounded by members of the Fatui.”

“Well then where are you going to live, you can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ll… figure something out.”

“I’m offering you a solution to your housing problem. You can even live on the edge of the camp; but I refuse to continue this song and dance of walking six miles just to get you up. Consider it part of your work benefits.”

“What a lovely benefit, being housed against your will.”

“You made it perfectly clear you have nowhere else to go. You abandoned your village, you’ve holed yourself up in a random inn, you made a promise, an agreement, to work for me. Have you forgotten that?”

“Of course I haven’t!” You snapped, once more tilting your head towards the wall. “How could I forget after what…” You trailed off.

“After what?” Scaramouche pressed, but you shook your head, merely glancing at him once more.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it’s affecting our bargain. Something must’ve happened. You’ve been acting, strangely.”

“How would you know how I act?” You scoffed. “Anyways, my behavior is none of your business. I promised to work with you, and I will, if only to stop this stupid conversation. But I won’t move in with the Fatui. They’re the worst sort of organization. Besides,” you added, voice lowering slightly. “I’m not comfortable staying in unfamiliar places.”

There was a pause in the conversation, as Scaramouche wracked his brain. He needed to get this to work. He couldn’t stand this; no matter what, he’d make sure this conversation didn’t drag on any longer.

“Fine then,” Scaramouche finally sighed, “let’s make a deal.”

“We seem to be making an awful lot of those.”

“It’s the only way apparently to get you to do anything. Here’s the deal. I arrange it so you’re allowed to use your own furniture and belongings in your tent. You can use one of the extra harbinger tents, they should be big enough for that. If I promise to do so, will you promise to move out?”

“I’m not letting random Fatui members sack my house, not even on your orders.”

“Then do it with the. I’ll just send some men to carry the heavier furniture, you can handle the rest. Agreed?”

You paused, staring at him, expression much more readable this time, being one of distrust. Still, eventually you nodded your head and Scaramouche finally began to feel some sort of relief.

“Good. Now pack whatever you have. Thankfully it’s early enough to have this finished today.”

And with that he stood up, not bothering to look behind at you as he walked across the room and out the door.

---------

Scaramouche entered the tent, nearly running into you in the process. You glanced back at him, letting out a quick “sorry”, before scurrying over towards your cot – your bed had ended up being too bulky to move.

“I see you’ve finished.” Scaramouche spoke up, feeling slightly awkward, not sure how to converse with you in a way that wasn’t arguing. Luckily you didn’t seem to notice, nodding enthusiastically.

“It’s so odd to seem my dresser on the grass floor.” You giggled softly.

The Harbinger stared for a moment, realizing that this was the first time he’d seen a genuine smile out of you. It was almost transformative, and for a moment he found himself forgetting all the haggling it took for you to get here. Walking towards you, slightly unaware of what he was doing, he stopped a few inches away from you. You seemed caught unaware, and as you stared at him your smile slowly faded, instead replaced once more by that odd expression you carried when you look at him. This time you seemed a bit more agitated however, and instead of lingering you shook your head slightly, walking sideways towards the dresser you’d just mentioned. Suddenly aware of himself Scaramouche mimicked the gesture, stepping back towards the tent opening.

“Well,” he said, voice stilted, “I’m glad that we’ve finally resolved this. I’ll let them send dinner to your tent tonight, though I expect you to eat with everyone else afterwards. I’ll see how you are later.” And, not wanting to start another argument and still trying to process what had just happened, Scaramouche marched out of the tent.

The late afternoon air was finally beginning to cool down, and Scaramouche took in several deep breaths. Not wanting to deal with the presence of various underlings he made his way out of the camp and towards the woods, the woods in which, about five miles away from here, he’d met you for the first time. Now, leaning against a tree, he thought back on that night, on everything that had happened since then. Mostly he thought about the odd experience in the tent.

Scaramouche hadn’t really meant to walk up to you, he found being the proximity of people odious most of the time. The action was completely instinctive, devoid of any motive to intimidate or to scare. It was just, it was just the fact that he’d liked your smile, it had drawn him in, literally, apparently. As had your expression, what was that expression? He wanted to ask about it again, wanted to know what was going on. This whole experience was alien to Scaramouche, your interactions all the more so. A normal underling would’ve never talked back, would’ve never forced concessions out of him. And yet that wasn’t the only abnormal thing. A normal underling would’ve never been so important, and, more importantly, would’ve never drawn such a strange reaction out of him. A reaction he was still feeling the effects of.

It wasn’t simply walking up to you, no, nothing was that simple. It was how he’d felt, the way he didn’t mind being that close, wanted it even. The way a part of him was somewhat disappointed when you – rightfully – drew away. Even now he still felt those lingering feelings, that alien want to be closer to someone, to learn about them, to… what? That was the beginning and the end of it, wasn’t it? He wanted something, and he didn’t even know what that something was. Information he supposed. It was always that in the end; something that he could use, a bargaining chip. Maybe he just was getting tired of these concessions.

It was dark by the time Scaramouche returned to your tent. You were slouched forward on your cot, a book held up to your face, your attention utterly captivated. Looking up at the shuffling of feet you saw the Harbinger staring at you, as opaque as before. Although your initial instinct was once more to look away you instead met his gaze, letting out the faintest crack of a smile.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was nothing. If you’re going to be my clairvoyant assistant, well, this was for the best.”

Your whispered something and Scaramouche leaned forward.

“What?”

You repeated the word again and the Harbinger’s brow furrowed.

“What does that name have to do with anything?”

“It’s mine, idiot.”

“You could’ve just said that.” Scaramouche scoffed, glancing away. “Thank you.”

“It’s my thanks, for doing this for me.”

“I see.” Scaramouche stood there silent for a moment. Eventually he looked around and nodded. “All seems to be in order. I hope you’re an early riser, tomorrow we’ll get to work. So make sure to sleep. I…” he began to turn towards the tent opening. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

The sound of your name whispered into the night by him was something that would keep you up for a while longer.

#series #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #my writing

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Pink Camellia

A/N: I love plants and i love learning the meanings of them. I will have to put a disclaimer here, some of these may have multiple meanings depending on where the information is taken from. I went back to the Victorian Era meanings. This is part 1 of 7 of my Love Blossom Series where each member gets to have their own story amongst flowers. I wanted to call this a drabble as i wrote it quickly but i realised 2k is not a drabble but oh well. Hope it's an enjoyable read!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog. Gif cr

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (non-idol!au, florist!Namjoon, cafe owner!reader)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none it's pure rotten fluff

Word count: 2k

You loved late spring. The cool soft air of spring morphing into the warm glowy summer atmosphere was the perfect time of the year in your opinion. Not only did the milder warmer weather make everything seem so joyful and light-hearted, but the sunny brighter environment caressed your skin as you walked. The cafe was not too far from your house but to get there you had to go through a park. The smell of the freshly bloomed flowers and the sound of children cheerfully playing put a spring in your step as you walked towards your work.

The park through it’s different seasons had its perks. In the summer it was the grounds for family picnics; in spring it was full of couples old and new enjoying their time together. When it got chillier, you could see the odd runner through the brightly coloured leaves and in the winter, the unhindered vastness of the park covered in a blanket of snow. But of course you much more preferred the warmth of late spring, early summer.

You’ve known Namjoon for a while, his flower shop opened just down the road from yours a couple of years back. When you entered his shop for the first time, the array of flowers were arranged in such a beautiful way that it took your breath away. The smells encompassed you, and transported you to a secret garden so that you completely forgot that it was just a shop.

“Hello”

So enraptured you were with your surroundings you completely missed the appearance of a man behind the counter. He stood in front of a now open door that signed ‘Staff only’. So he worked there, you concluded. You smiled at him warmly. “Hello, this shop is lovely. I have never seen such a variety of flowers in one place”

The man’s smile widened. “Thank you for the kind words. I have tried my best to build an understanding of the flowers I am bringing into my shop. I was planning to have one for every occasion, and yet…” he motioned around you “this happened” rubbing the back of his neck you could see the tip of his ears reddening. He was cute when he rambled.

“All the better, they all look lovely displayed in such a way. And the more the merrier” you laughed softly. “So you are the owner” you mused after a couple of seconds of silence.

“Yes, i’m Namjoon...i mean, yes i am the owner” the redness was creeping along his neck now and you could not find it more adorable.

Even if this was just your first meeting you could tell by his warm eyes and soft smile that revealed dimples that he was kind and humble.

“Nice to meet you Namjoon, i’m Y/N” you both shared a smile.

From then on you had been enraptured.

You had not planned to go into his shop every morning before work and pick up flowers to spruce up your cafe. But after one week of doing it, simply out of sheer pleasure of being in between the greens and the smells of the shop, it became habit. But most importantly you found yourself excited in anticipation of conversing with the owner as well. So one week turned into two, three. Until one day Namjoon suggested that instead of you making a trek to his shop, he would deliver flowers to you in the morning before you’d open the cafe. When you argued that it would be too much of a hassle for him he dismissed it, letting you know that he was starting to do deliveries anyways and so it would be no problem for him.

What he failed to mention was that his shop was not open as early as you normally came in to buy flowers. The first day you met was a mistake. A lucky one in his opinion; but a mistake nonetheless. They’d just opened the shop, totally forgoing to put the ‘Closed’ sign on the door. When he saw you in your awed state wandering around the shop, he did not have the heart to tell you they were not going to open until later on that day. You looked almost ethereal, the happy smile on your face giving you a soft glow that the flowers around you only enhanced. You bought a bouquet of sunflowers that day. Loyalty, he noted wondering if that was your favourite flower or if you just bought it on a whim. He made a mental note to himself to ask you next time, wishing there would be a next time.

And there was, there would be next times everyday for weeks. You made it a habit to walk into his shop every morning after that, buy flowers and have a nice chat with the cute owner. Whom, you’d found out was incredibly clumsy. He apologised profusely after dropping a vase full of flowers at your feet, he offered to pay for the dry cleaning of your coat when he tripped out of nowhere and spilled some plant food on you. One day he even managed to get soil into your shoes. You had to give it to him, you had never met anyone so clumsy and destructive in your life. It was impressive. And most importantly, it was cute. The way he reddened from the tips of his ears downwards whilst stumbling over his own words, made your own heart beat as fast as the words that were coming out of his mouth.

When he was not making a mess out of himself of the breakable objects in his shop, you had nice chats about random things. From books- he liked to read you noted, poems- he wrote some, he told you, weather- his favourite season was spring, travels-he seems to have been everywhere; to trivial things such as the food you had that day or the customers that you would get. Little by little you got to know each other. And little by little Namjoon had started to fall in love with you.

Unbeknownst to him, the feelings were reciprocated. Once he had started making deliveries to your cafe every morning, you looked forward to waking up in the morning and starting your day. Being greeted by his warm smile which accentuated his dimples was the highlight of your morning. The first week he had asked you which flowers you wanted delivered.

“I don’t know” you responded thoughtfully. In reality you had no idea about flowers, you loved them, but you did not know anything else apart from what was visible. “Surprise me Flower Boy” you grinned at him.

Once you had given him the go ahead, the types of flowers that he could deliver for you was all Namjoon could think about. All those meanings were swimming around in his head, carnations for love? No, that would be too straight forward. Lilac? Too dark. Sunflowers again, adoration? Maybe too cheesy. He settled in the end for daisies. Simple and innocent.

“Oh they are beautiful” you gushed as soon as you spotted him carrying the bunches into your cafe. Rushing to help him you misstepped and stumbled into him. For someone who was on a daily basis as clumsy as he was, he did a very good job at not falling over with you on top of him. And he congratulated himself for that, he deserved a medal. Your form leaning into him and the warmth of your hand on his bicep was enough to make the blood rush to his cheeks and his heart to pound.

“Oh, i’m really sorry” with a choked voice, he assured you it was no problem.

“I have done enough damage to you in the past few weeks” he grinned. “I’ll take it as a payback” you laughed at that and grabbed some bunches from his arms.

“They are so lovely, thank you” instructing him to put them over near the window, you went behind the counter to start on a drink for him. “Is a latte ok?” you asked over your shoulder. Too lost in his thoughts whilst observing your form he did not answer the first time. Asking again, you glanced briefly at him, noticing the slight dazed look he was offering you.

“Namjoon” you softly called, the intimate tone of your voice finally waking him up from his reverie.

“Ah, yes it is ok” he would not admit that at that moment, seeing you making his drink and the way you softly called his name - it felt like home.

After that moment, he started bringing in Camellias. And only camellias. Pink. The colour of them combined with the neutrals of your shop made everything brighter and lighter. Even in the winter he brought you camellias. At first you did not think much of it. They were lovely and you had an elated reaction to them. So you assumed that he’d thought they were the flowers that you preferred. But when you started noticing certain changes in his behaviour, certain looks, certain smiles. Sometimes he’d space out whilst staring at you doing mundane tasks in your shop. Something was nagging you. Was there a deeper meaning behind the camellias?

You tried asking him, but he gave nothing away. He flustered, knocked over a chair and exited out of your cafe quickly whilst apologising for having to leave so early. And so you let it drop. But the next time he came in, it felt like the air around the two of you had changed. As if there was a secret that was hanging in between the two of you. Something that buzzed around the two of you. Every interaction after that left you breathless.

So you did what any other human being would do when they need answers. You researched on the internet. Pink Camellias. You clicked on the first link, your eyes skimming over the words. Longing for you.

The next day you woke up extra early, determined to make it to Namjoon’s flower shop before he had a chance to come to yours. You had a flower order to request from him. On the way there the smell and sights of late spring put an extra skip in your step. Or maybe it was the thought of the cute Flower Boy you were going to meet? Biting your lip softly you started at the glass door of the flower shop. This time the sign said ‘Closed’ but you knew Namjoon would be in pitter pattering.

Opening the door, you stepped in. “We’re clo- Y/N!” Namjoon emerged through the same door signed ‘Staff Only’. “I’m not late to deliver the flowers, am i?” panicking he glanced at the clock.

You shook your head, it was now or never.

“I thought I would come in early to make a slight change in the delivery” you glanced at him trying to gage his reaction. Confusion painted across his face. Then entering his customer service mode he stepped away from the counter and started looking around.

“Of course, what would you like? We have a new batch of sunflowers in? You ordered those last time so maybe those? Or some flowers that are better in late spring? How about lilacs?” rambling he made his way round the multitude of flower arrangements.

Grabbing his hand to stop him, you sighed. It was now or never.

Stepping closer and closer to him, where you could observe his eyes, you smiled softly. Standing on your tiptoes you reached to place a warm kiss on his cheek.

“I was thinking something more like...roses?”

The silence that followed and his astounded face made you question yourself. Had you misread the situation? Soon though warm arms enveloped you tightly, hugging you to his chest. The rhythm of his heart, the slight pressure of his lips at the top of your crown and the whisper in your hair told you he’d gotten it.

“Love”

Main Masterlist

#namjoon x oc #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #bts scenarios #fluff #bts #kpop fluff #scenarios #kpop scenarios #bts rm #i wrote this so fast i don't know what happened

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years

Text

Monthlies (Tom Holland)

A/N: Hi, it’s me, with a fic. Wrote this on a whim so bare with me asdfghjkl. I’m trying to be all mysterious with the summary but I think the title gives it away aha. Anyways, here’s some sweet boyfriend Tom for your enjoyment! Hope you like it <3

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: You tend to disappear for a week every month and Tom goes to find out why.

Warnings: None but my usual typos

Word Count: 3.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

Your relationship was fairly new, four months in to be exact, and Tom can't help but be curious of a certain thing you do every month.

Right after you've made it official, you've asked Tom about giving you some space during a certain week of each month. Not thinking much of it, he obliged, unable to find any harm on you wanting some time alone.

However, as months moved pass, he can't help but ask as to why exactly you needed to be away.

He just wants you to be open with him is all, want you to know that whatever it is, maybe he can help you with it, regardless of how you prefer his help. But each time he brings it up, you just shrugged it off and tell him it wasn't worrisome, that there wasn't any harm done during the duration of the disappearance.

Tom trusts you with every fiber of his being, so he didn't find the need to press you further, knowing that you'll tell him whenever you're ready.

Although the thing with curiosity, it grows no matter how hard you try for it not to, and Tom wasn't any different.

He can't deny that there was something odd about it, particularly when you don't speak to him during said week until the last two days.

It was planting an unsettling feeling in him for sure, his brain creating scenarios as to why exactly you shut him out constantly, same duration each time.

Does it have to do something with him? Is being with him putting you under too much stress and pressure that you needed to get out of it and give yourself room to breathe monthly? Or is there something going on with you and that you're hiding something deeper than you make it seem?

"I don't know man, I trust her so much, and she hasn't given me any reason not to whenever we're together, but when she does these monthly disappearances I can't help but think otherwise you know?" Tom sighed, a bottle of beer cold against his fingertips as he sat beside Harrison on their living room couch. The television was playing some random show that Tom couldn't even pay any attention to as his mind was somewhere else, on someone to be exact.

"You tried talking to her about it?" His best mate pointed out the obvious, brows furrowed as he gave Tom a curious glance.

"Yeah, but she doesn't give me any specific answer. She keeps saying it's not a big deal but you only say that if it is, don't you?" Tom's whole face was covered in nothing but worry, frown all evident as his thoughts run wild as to what could be this hidden secret you're so keen on keeping.

"Maybe it's time you just find out by yourself. You do know we're she lives right?" Harrison stated, seemingly unamused because Tom could've just done it months ago if it bothered him that much.

But Tom wasn't bothered by it really, not that much anyway. He was mainly just curious, concerned. What if you're going through something and he wasn't there to help you with it? What kind of a boyfriend is he then?

Sure he could've found out for himself all those months ago, but you asked him it as a favor, and he gave you his word, why would he break that and then cause unwanted problems between you two?

With a light scoff, Tom crossed his arms over his chest. "Of course I know where she lives, she's my girlfriend."

"And when does this month's MIA week start?"

At Harrison's question, Tom checks the date on his phone, a deep sigh coming out of him when he realized when it will be. "I think it starts tomorrow?"

"Then pay her a visit tomorrow."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Tom says reluctantly but couldn't help but entertain the idea of it anyway.

If he does it, this could really go wrong either way. It's either you'd be hurt because it would look like Tom doesn't truly trust you or, he'd find something that he would've been better off without.

"Come on mate, how bad can it be?"

***

Tom was consumed by nerves the moment he stood in front of your door the next day. His hands were turning clammy as he shifts the key you've given him from one finger to the other.

He wasn't one to show up without texting first, completely uninvited especially at the time of month you specifically asked him to leave you be.

But it was eating him up from the inside out, his patience growing thin to the point that he was close to being desperate for answers.

Two sides of himself were at war, but Harrison's words won't seem to stop echoing inside his head.

How bad can it be?

Taking in a deep breath, Tom pushed the key in and unlocked the door, that one click bouncing off the walls a little too loudly for his liking. Slowly, cautiously, he lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him as his heart beats rapidly against his chest.

"Y/N? Are you home?" Tom was met by silence, your place seeming untouched but it was warm nonetheless. Plus, it was early in the morning; you couldn't have gone out yet. Tom knows what time you usually wake up, and judging by the clock just by the doorway, you're most likely to still be asleep. You definitely were here somewhere.

Moving further down your space, Tom heard a silent whimper, his ears perking up at the sound that was coming from your bedroom. His brain was straight to jump into conclusions and he hates himself for it.

You're a sweet and kind girl, heart so pure that you couldn't possibly do anything that would purposely hurt him. But when you're an over-thinker, any rational thought seems to get pushed back, replaced by this nagging whisper, like a tiny devil on his shoulder.

Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead as he threaded down the hall, heartbeat ringing in his ears until he reached your bedroom door, all opened wide for him to easily see what's inside.

All he saw was a form on the bed hidden under thick covers, hair — to which he assumed was yours — going astray over the pillows. Tom felt his heart calm down a little, silently scolding himself for thinking the worst when you were literally lying still and alone in bed.

A louder groan, one laced with pure pain followed by a soft yet broken sob bounced on your bedroom walls, the sheer sound of discomfort making Tom rush to your side immediately.

Dread covered his face once he took in your state, agony written all over your features as you hugged your knees to your chest, whole body curled up into a ball.

"Love what's going on? Are you okay?" Panic coated Tom's voice as he sat himself on the edge of the bed beside you, hand coming up to push a stray hair away from your face.

You willed your eyes to open at the sound of a familiar voice, pure surprise crossing you features at the feeling of his touch before it was quick to be replaced by worry and embarrassment.

"T—Tom? Why are you here? I don't want you to see me like this. I'm aah—" You winced loudly, Tom's concern only growing because the look on your face showed nothing but absolute torture, eyes squeezed shut as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The sight was crushing his heart, just seeing you in so much pain, it was unbearable.

"Angel, please tell me what's going on? I can't help if you don't tell me." Tom was close to begging, fingers brushing your hair softly, comfortingly as the other hand gave your arm a gentle squeeze, too afraid to move you even in the slightest in fear that he might hurt you more.

He wants nothing more than to take your pain away, whatever the cause may be, but that's just it, he doesn't know why your hurt so he has no clue what to do.

Turning your head a little to meet his eyes, you frowned at him, and Tom can see than you were hesitating, doubting if you should tell him or not. But when another sharp pang coursed through your body, an excruciating stab just below your abdomen, you finally spoke, voice frail and small as you tried to suppress sob.

"Cramps."

It took three seconds, no, four when everything finally clicked. Tom could feel his cheek heat up as realization dawned on him, piece by piece falling into place, the situation at hand finally looking clear as day in his head.

"Oh."

A week every month... monthly periods.

That makes the absolute sense. Tom felt so stupid not having figured it out sooner, the facts already laid out for him but then again, how could he possibly narrow it down to that?

This was something new to him, past girlfriends not turning this serious, or simply just not finding it important at all for them to talk about periods and such.

Although, Tom can't help but question as to why exactly are you hiding away from him during his time of the month? Why were you so keen on being away from him whenever you get your period?

He didn't get the chance to ask you yet though; another heartrending groan from you was enough for him to stay focused at the task at hand: help get rid of your pain to the best of his abilities and well, the best of his knowledge too. "Okay, uhm, what do you need love?"

All you could manage to do was point weakly at your bedside table, Tom's eyes landing on an empty glass of water and some painkillers.

Tom turned back to you, a sympathetic smile playing on his lips before leaning down to give you a soft peck on the forehead. With voice soft and sweet, he hums against your skin. "I'll get you some water darling, I'll be right back."

Rushing out of you room, Tom quickly fished his phone out of his pocket, aimlessly walking towards the kitchen as he clicks on the name on his screen. He definitely needs some help with all this.

"Hey mum, uh, are you busy?" Tom sighs in relief the moment she answered. He was refilling your cup of water with a small frown, driven by nothing else but his pure concern about you.

"Not really no, I'm on my way to do some grocery shopping. Why hun? Is there a problem?"

Perfect timing.

"No, no, I just need a little favor? Uhm I was going to ask Harrison to do it but I'm pretty sure he's as clueless as I am with this stuff but uh, Y/N is on her period and she's got cramps and I'm too worried to leave her alone and—" Tom was cut off by his mother's joyful laugh, his cheeks turning a shade of red as she gushed about how adorable he is.

"You want me to buy some stuff for her?"

"Basically, yeah, and some food too." Tom chuckled shyly, hand coming up to rub his shoulder. He was thinking about doing it himself but he was sure he'd end up lost and confused down the aisle, then it would just take too long. This new experience was slightly stressing him out, just a little bit, because when it's you looking to be in so much pain, his worry just comes in tenfold.

"Of course honey. Just text me her address and any other thing that you might need."

Tom blushed as his brain, by default, goes straight to a certain thing, shaking his head quickly to rid of the thought. Never in a million years would he ask his mum to buy condoms. Plus, there are more pressing matters at hand.

"Okay mum. Oh, and one last thing, does tea help with the cramps? Should I make her some tea?"

"You go ahead and do that Tom. Hot compress helps too."

"Okay, thank you so much mum, you're a life saver. Yeah, bye, I love you."

Placing the phone back in his pocket, Tom went back to your room with the glass full, not wasting any second to be by your side, ready to tend to his princess.

Once the glass was safely placed on the nightstand, he wrapped an arm over your shoulder to help you sit up, a soft sorry coming out his lips once you whimpered ever so quietly.

"How many of these?" He asks, pointing at the medication. You held two fingers up at him, Tom handing you the painkillers and then offering you the water. "Thank you." You smiled at him shyly once he took the glass from you.

Tom smiled, hand cupping your face gently as he leaned down to give you a sweet peck on the lips. "No worries darling. Now, get some rest."

***

After sorting out the bag of goodies and necessities that his mother kindly bought — chuckling at his own stupidity once he saw that you've already stocked up beforehand on female products and he just didn't check but hey, the more the merrier right? — Tom went back to check up on you.

You've been fast asleep for almost an hour now, Tom leaving you be for the time being, not having the courage to disturb you when you looked all peaceful and serene in your sleep.

But once he reached your room, you were already sat up in bed, facing the door with a deep frown. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of him, evidently shock to see him still around. "I thought you already left."

There was something about your tone that made Tom even more curious about this whole ordeal, a small frown adoring his own lips as he went over and sat across you. "My girlfriend needs me, why would I leave?"

You looked away at that, Tom feeling his heart drop a little because you're making it seem that you don't want his company.

"Y/N, tell me honestly, why don't you want me around during this time of month?"

You sighed worriedly, still unable to meet his gaze, knowing that there was nowhere to hide anymore. "It's not that I don't want you around. I just, I don't want to drive you away."

Tom furrowed his brows at your words, everything still a jumbled mess in his head. "Why would you being on you period drive me away?"

There was a pregnant pause after that. Your eyes darting about as you tried to piece your words inside your head. Tom was patiently waiting for you to speak again, but when your fingers started to fidget nervously, he moved closer, taking your hands in his to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Love, you know you can tell me anything right?"

You nodded, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip before lifting your head up to look at those chocolate orbs you've grown to adore, to trust.

"It's because I'm at my worse during this time. I cry over nothing and I'm always emotional. I have mood swings, I'm bloated and I look like utter shot. I'm in too much pain the first few days to the point that I couldn't get out of bed easily, couldn't even move as you've seen. I'm just... a completely mess Tom." Your voice trailed off at the end of your sentence, eyes dropping to see nothing else but your's and Tom's intertwined fingers.

The young man titled his head to side to try and catch your eyes. But when you tried your best to avoid them, he took it upon himself to let go of your hand to place a finger under your chin, gently pushing your head back up to meet his gaze.

"You really think I'd care about that darling?" Tom said, tone sweet and reassuring.

With a shrugged of your shoulders, you willed yourself not to get teary. A task nonetheless because during this time of month, you truly don't have any control of your emotions whatsoever.

"Well the past guy did, he told me I'm a handful and that I always get so pissy. He said I was too much with the mood swings and constant whining and he doesn't want to be around me when it's that time of the month. And he was right; I am too much on my period. I just don't want to put you through it too. You don't deserve it because you've been so good to me. I don't want push you away because of it. I just don't want you to leave me because of it." Tom felt his heart break at the utter sound of hurt in your voice, followed by anger and annoyance at the guy who made you think this way.

Tom scooted closer over to you, taking your arms and slinging it over his shoulder while his own took home on your waist, running his thumb lovingly on the swell of your belly. As if that simple gesture wasn't sweet enough, he moved even closer, just to nudge the tip of his nose on yours, a proud smile erupting on Tom's face at the sound of your soft giggle.

He pulled away slightly just to see your eyes, and for you to see in his the sincerity of what he was about to say.

"Sweetheart, I'm not him. I don't care if you're bloated, you still look gorgeous to me darling. If you feel like crying then so be it, let it all out, whatever you're feeling is valid no matter the reason. I'll put up with your mood swings and your attitude, because I want to be with you despite it. I want to be with you through your downs, your worst moments. I want to see all your flaws because those things make you even more beautiful to me. I'll be here with you through it all. And those moments, your imperfections, those won't change how I feel for you. Because I really, really feel so strongly for you Y/N, and it will always be above anything else."

Tom was itching to just say it, just being filled of it from head to toe, the L word that hasn't been spoken beforehand unless used as a term of endearment, but he was worried he might scare you away or it not being the right time, especially with so many emotions already swimming inside you, by the simple looks of it in your eyes. You gorgeous, beautiful eyes all glossed up with a trembling bottom lip to match.

"But I don't want to be a burden." You croaked out, a single tear escaping free, down the skin of your cheek.

"Darling, you are not a burden. It's natural what you're going through, and that fucking guy who shamed you for experiencing something you have no control over is a fucking dickhead, a complete asshole and God if I could get my hands on him I'd let him fucking have it." Tom's voice turned into a low growl at the end of his sentence, all fired up at just the thought of some stupid twat hurting such an amazing woman like you. He just can't comprehend how much of an idiot could a person be to shame a woman for being on her period. God, it just makes his blood boil just thinking about it.

"I want to be here for you, I want to be with you, all of you, always. You understand?" You nodded with a tiny sniffle, your heart growing, filling with warmth, with pure gratitude at Tom's words, with nothing but absolute...

"I love you." You whispered, Tom's heart stopping and then beating again but twice the pace as a wide and bright grin grew on his face, the words sounding oh so enchanting coming out of your lips.

Those gorgeous lips that he didn't hesitate to capture in his own, a pure sigh of content coming out of his as he whispered against the kiss,

"And I love you darling, oh so much."

Pulling away to catch some air, Tom was staring at you with so much joy, so much love, wide grin hard to wipe off as he quirked one messy brow at you.

"No more monthly disappearances?"

You nodded with a sweet laugh. "No more."

Turns out, paying you a visit was the right call. Things didn't turn out as bad as he thought it would, but Tom's not telling Harrison that.

-:-:-:-:-

Like, Reblog & Leave a Comment if you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! <3

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 3 years

Text

Space girl

The beginning of most love stories: the moon falls in love with the sun.

(The problem, however, is that most love stories aren’t set in the Boiling Isles. To confirm that the metaphor works adequately, there must exist at least one moon and one sun in your admittedly bonkers world. Is there a sun? A moon?)

Amity shivers where she’s sitting at her window, stares up at the bright bluish orb hanging over the sky and decides it does, in fact, qualify as a celestial body, whatever the hell that means. Luz has been teaching them about the intricacies of the human world, every bit of knowledge that they would require if in case they ever got transported there accidentally, and that includes something called a smartphone, a bus and the shortest way to the nearest vending machine, preferably a vending machine that stocks Mars Bars. Amity suspects the last is just another one of Luz’s whims, but has no way of confirming.

(And what is the point of confirming anything anyways? It is enough to sit in front of Luz, or beside her or anywhere with a direct line of sight to her, so Amity can listen to her blabber on about chocolate chips and scrambled eggs and something called a Tumblr; enough to get lost in the insistent, sunshine shaped cadence of her voice and forget about the perils of the week.

Plus, is the sun ever wrong?)

A month ago, Amity would have been alarmed at how easily she writes down her utter devotion towards a very human someone who gets beaten up on the regular by some ancient eldritch horror. Now the words just walk out of her quill and plant themselves firmly on the page like they couldn’t belong anywhere else, except maybe her paramour’s heart. That’s the problem with the moon falling in love with the sun. it’s annoying yet ineffable and inevitable. It’s also the easiest thing she’s ever done.

*****

Emira figures it out first. Which probably means that Edric knows as well, since Amity is pretty sure the twins share a single mind and keep passing it to each other like they’re in an eternal Grudgby match. However, he’s not the one who appears in her room in the middle of the night to scare her half to death. That’s all Emira.

“What,” Amity starts, one hand on her chest, other reaching instinctively for her training wand at the sight of a green cloud of smoke that’s materialized in her room out of nowhere, “in the world are you doing here?”

Her sister leans against the doorway, like she’s been there all along, takes in her room. Amity knows it’s clean, knows that there is not a speck of dust hiding beneath the floorboards or an errant cape strewn on her bed, and yet can’t help following Emira’s gaze anxiously as it travels across her neatly arranged trophy on the shelf, her table and the loose floorboard she now hides her diary under, before she comes to rest on hers.

“You never told us what happened at the library the other day,” she says, finally.

Amity blinks. “I did tell you what happened. Otabin turned into a monster and tried to sew me, literally, into a book. Had to be fought off.”

She doesn’t continue with the subsequent thoughts in her head. Luz was there. Brave, idiotic Luz with a tendency of barging into adventures without a second thought. Luz, who I would’ve jumped into fire for. Luz, who made (makes) me laugh.

“You mean you and Luz?” Emira asks, innocently.

She bites the inside of her cheek, tries hard not to betray the smile that’s trying to creep up her face at the sound of Luz’s name. Nods.

“Luz is pretty cool, is she not?” Emira continues, and okay, there’s no reason to say someone’s name this much in one conversation. She ambles around her room, touching things at random, while Amity regulates her breathing. This was pathetic. The sound of someone’s name wasn’t supposed to make her feel like her heart was going to burst out of her, wasn’t supposed to climb up her throat and turn into absolute warmth all over her face.

“Uh huh,” she manages. “I guess. Yeah. Eh. Yeah.” Too much too much too much too much.

Emira is suddenly in her face then. She places her hand on Amity’s shoulders, stares right into her eyes.

“Aw, Mittens,” she chuckles. “You’re adorable when you have a crush.”

And then she disappears.

Amity does manage to chuck the object nearest to her (which happens to be her training wand) at Emira’s retreating figure. Then she sits on the floor and curls up into an embarrassed ball. You know, as one does.

*****

The whole jumping into danger for Luz thing would be a lot more avoidable if Luz didn’t have an equally huge jumping into danger for Amity thing as well.

Which is such a godforsaken Luz thing to do. The idiot immersed herself in a cauldron full of sludge for Willow, who she had met minutes ago, of course she would take on her burden for Grom night. Of course she would somehow break the cage Amity had conjured up for her to come save Eda and Edric and Emira and of course she would help her make things right with Willow. If the girl had one coherent thought when she woke up every morning, it was probably this – Ooh, someone’s in trouble? Let me fix it!

(She does inevitably manage to turn a tiny cut into a gushing wound in absolutely no time at all, but would Luz even be Luz without shenanigans?)

Amity loves it. It gives her a heart attack, but she loves how Luz is always ready to help out a random stranger. She’s never met anyone with a heart bigger than Luz’s and a personality sunnier than hers.

(Also hasn’t met anyone who’s cuter, or prettier, or better-looking in a strange black-pink-frilly-yet-well-tailored attire, but let’s not go there)

Either way, it’s completely understandable that she immediately reaches for her wand when Luz climbs up onto her balcony after Grom night, ready to fight whatever it was that was evidently bothering her.

“No!” Luz holds up her hands, shoots her a quick smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling herself relax. “So, um — why are you — here?”

“I could go! If you — wanted to, sleep or—”

“—no! Absolutely not!” Curse her for picking the absolute worst way to phrase a question. Why hadn’t she said Hey Luz, it’s so nice to see you, what brings you here? Or Hey Luz, please walk into my room and never leave.

(You know. Either works)

“I’m glad you’re here,” Amity says, then fumbles for something, anything, to add on to that revealing statement. “I mean, I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

Luz nods, and then giggles when Amity joins her onto the balcony and in the moonlight.

“What?” she asks, a little self-conscious. Also very charmed. Making Luz laugh was like some form of intoxicating elixir; Amity was hooked onto the feeling. Luz laughing made the world brighter.

(God, she was so gone for this idiot.)

“Your pajamas have tiny owls all over them,” Luz points out.

“Okay, that’s it!” she says, half-turning to go back into her room, when Luz’s hand grabs her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Luz is still laughing. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You look cute.”

Thank you, Luz. That’s very nice of you, Luz. You look nice in your strange clothes and oversized jacket as well, Luz. Those were all potential responses she could deliver.

Instead, she makes a choked-off noise that sounds suspiciously like hngg and closes her eyes.

(She’s so gone for this idiot)

*****

“Does your moon look like the one here?” Amity asks, one night of many, when they’re sitting on her balcony staring up at the gigantic thing. There’s some quiet song about stars and lovers that’s playing on that infernal device Luz is always toting around, and Luz is next to her, her arm brushing against Amity’s, radiating warmth out from the point of contact.

Amity wouldn’t mind if she died happy right at this moment.

“It’s a little different, I think,” Luz tilts her head, regarding it thoughtfully. Then she picks up her phone, taps at it and holds it out in front of Amity. “Here, that’s the moon back home.”

It isn’t bluish like this one. Nor is it smooth, unblemished. It’s got marks all over it, remnants, Amity presumes of outside forces long gone by. Enraptured, she leans in for a closer look.

“It’s orange!”

“It was just that day,” Luz informs her. “It isn’t orange all the time.”

“It changes colors?” That was surprising. Also fascinating.

“Not — not all the time. It’s complicated, I guess.”

Amity likes the wide smile Luz holds when she talks about this. Luz is so expressive, she couldn’t hide her feelings to save her life. Most of the time in school, when being faced down by exasperated teachers Amity thinks of it as a curse. Now, however, at midnight, while it’s just the two of them, and she is privy to this unbridled display of everything that makes up Luz, she’s enamored.

“Why do you like the moon so much?” she asks, curious.

“Why do you like the sun so much?” Luz shoots back, playfully.

Oh. That one’s easy. “Because it turns everything golden. Because it’s airy and light. Because it makes me feel warm inside.” Because your eyes turn a particular shade in the sunlight and it’s hard to look at you directly, you shine so bright. Because every time the sun comes up, it is a precursor to me seeing you in school.

Because it reminds me of you.

Luz looks at her, her eyes uncharacteristically wide and serious. “I like the moon because it makes me feel seen. Because it’s almost as lonely as I am. Because I can trust it enough to know that it’s mostly always there, even if it’s behind the clouds at the moment.”

They’re staring at each other, eyes wide, and Amity can’t breathe. She thinks of a lonely Luz staring up at the night sky back in the human world, talking to the moon, and it twinges, sorrowfully, like a ukulele out of tune, at a place deep underneath her chest. Some strange mixture of I’m sorry you had no one to talk to and I wish I’d been there, I wish I’d known you back then — I’d have listened to all your stories.

“Plus,” Luz smiles, “it’s pretty.”

Amity blinks, and the spell is broken. Luz jerks, as if coming out of a dream, and stands up straight. Stammers, fumbles, makes a truly terrible joke about broomsticks and King and the annoying owl slash security guard slash housekeeper and runs off, leaving her completely confused.

*****

It’s when Gus finds out that Amity discovers that everyone and their parent has known about her Grometheus sized crush on Luz the entire time.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” He’s still sulking about it in a corner, while Amity is faced down by Willow, Edric, Emira, Eda and King at the same time.

“Nobody told anyone, strange little child,” Eda waves a hand impatiently at him. “We just have eyes.”

Edric casts a momentary silencing spell on him, but Amity is pretty sure he’s mouthing the words “But I have eyes too”. Not that she’s too worried about Gus. He’ll be fine.... eventually. It’s more the fact that she now has to figure out which parts of her behavior have apparently clued in the whole world to the fact that her heart is waddling around in an idiot’s chest, most times.

“How about the fact that you can’t stop smiling when I bring her up?” She does not—

“Or that you did some pretty advanced magic trying to save her when that Slither-Beast had us?” How did he-

“You nearly combusted when she picked you up after our Grudgby match?” It wasn’t that bad.

She buries her head in her hands. Then looks up at King.

“Do you want to add anything?”

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea until today. I just didn’t want to be lumped in with Gus over there.”

She stands up, picks up her bag. “Okay, I am clearly at a disadvantage here—”

“Mittens, come back,” Edric grabs the back of her shirt, lets her flail for a minute before she gives up.

“I just — I just wanted to get her something nice for her birthday tomorrow, okay? And instead I’m being ambushed by the entirety of Boiling Isles.”

“But we are trying to help you, kid,” Eda tells her, now lounging on the couch with King on her lap. “God knows I love that child, but she has not an ounce of common sense in her. There is no way she’s ever going to figure out you’re in love with her if you don’t—”

“—whoa, whoa, whoa, love? That’s — please — completely crazy — idea. I’m not — in — love. That’s—”

She’s not. She’s not. So what if she keeps interrogating Gus on human things so she can impress Luz with her admittedly flawed knowledge on all things non-Boiling Isles? So what if she hasn’t slept more than five hours for the past one month because Luz comes over at night and they end up talking until past midnight? What does it even matter that Luz is the only person who she feels any form of innate comfort around? Or that every time she lends Luz her jacket when it gets chilly, the sight of an awkwardly clad Luz in that oversized thing makes her heart feel full to the point of bursting?

That’s not love.

(Some strange whisper echoes through her head, leaving echoes of But it could be behind)

Luz is the sun, okay? Bright and beautiful and adored by everyone. There’s no reason she could, or that she even should pay attention to Amity. Her affection is easily given, evenly split between all her friends and the citizens of the world; there’s no way Amity could ever hope to exert enough gravity to make Luz notice her, no way she could dare to hope for a greater portion in Luz’s long list of priorities.

(After all, does the sun even know that moon exists?)

*****

“Come on, Amity!”

She presses her lips flat, tries not to burst into laughter at the sight of an impatient Luz, vibrating by her side, hands opening and closing in the air.

“I know you have a gift for me! And you’ve been hiding it from everyone! Nobody at the party knew!”

“Aren’t you tired from the party?” she asks, knowing the abrupt change in topic is just going to annoy Luz more. It had been a hectic affair, after all. Monster complications in the morning aside, the Owl House had seen an impressive number of guests who wanted to wish Luz a very happy birthday. An impressive number of guests along with an impressive number of gifts.

All except one.

“Nope. Not tired at all,” Luz tells her, promptly. “Completely alert and ready to receive the gift that I know you’ve gotten me but aren’t giving me yet, because you like messing with me.”

Amity twists her face into the visual equivalent of Who, me but conjures up a wrapped box either way. It falls into Luz’s outstretched hands, and then she has to tell her to shush unless they want Amity’s parents grounding her, forever.

(Not that it pleases her, much. She hates telling Luz to quiet down, because it tends to break her out of whatever spiel she is embarking upon, and Amity adores it when Luz rambles. Her eyes shine, and her hands move around animatedly, and her voice, her voice is so, so sweet she doesn’t mind it telling her about things she cannot comprehend)

She puts a hand on Luz’s right arm just as she’s about to unwrap it. “Luz,” she starts, already embarrassed, but determined to power through, “this, is probably not the best gift, and probably not even accurate as well, so you have to tell me if you don’t like it, okay? I’ve got other backup gifts I’d planned on giving you, so no worries, okay? Just—”

“Amity,” Luz cuts in, her excited smile morphing into something a little quieter, gentler, “I already love it.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

Luz shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, still looking at her. Only resumes unwrapping it when Amity nods. Opens the box, and thankfully isn’t looking at her when Amity starts talking.

“I tried — to make it as close to the real thing as possible,” she says, watching Luz look at the off-white orb in wonder. “King helped. He went on something called the, the internet? And turns out your moon has a lot of craters! But it’s pretty regardless, so I tried — to. Yeah.”

She’s not exactly surprised when Luz leans over and hugs her. They’re sitting side by side so the angle’s a little off, but it’s not like she cares. Luz, beautiful, happy, Luz is here and she’s solid in her arms, and she can feel her smile against her neck and Amity is going to die—

“Thank you.” Luz disentangles herself from the embrace, but still pretty close. “I — Amity. Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

But I want to. I want to give you things, and I want to give you things that you like and that will maybe remind you of me. She places a hand on the orb between them, sees it light up.

“It also does this,” she informs Luz, unnecessarily. Then places a hand again, watches it turn orange. “Changes colors. Like yours does.”

She finally looks at Luz again, after a moment of complete silence, only to see her staring back. The look in her eyes is so — so intense (Amity can think of no other way to describe it), that it makes her want to turn away and cover her face. Like it’s going to burn her up if she keeps looking into her eyes.

And then Luz quickly darts forward to press a kiss to her cheek, and Amity combusts.

(Only inside. You’d think it was possible, wouldn’t you? It was the Boiling Isles, after all. But no. Nobody had spontaneously combusted since Elaric the Great and as far as anybody could tell, it didn’t have anything to do with romance)

The kiss lands half on her half and half on her skin because she’s pretty sure Luz hasn’t exactly thought it through either. There’s a single, blissful moment of peace, and then then her heart goes into overdrive, beating away like it’s trying to catch a train.

Speaking of things trying to catch a train, however....

“I have to go!” Luz scrambles away, gets up. Her face looks red as well, and Amity, a little stumped, watches it happen, as though in slow motion. Even through her haste, she picks up the replica of the moon carefully and wraps it up in her jacket. “I’ll — see you tomorrow! At school! Where we both.... go. So. Yeah. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight?” Amity replies, softly.

Right before she’s about to climb down, Luz stops. Turns around, and very quickly says something that Amity for the life of her cannot figure out.

(Also, because she’s still in the tummy-woozy, mind-blank state of just having a kiss pressed to her cheek by the most perfect girl in the world)

“Can you say that again?”

“I, uh,” Luz slows down, deliberately, her voice coming out quieter. “Did you totally hate that?”

Oh.

Oh, gosh, the idiot.

Amity shakes her head, grins at her, hoping that says what she isn’t brave enough to say yet. “No, Luz. I didn’t hate that.”

*****

She keeps the picture of Luz’s tremulous, answering smile wrapped in the fist she presses to her heart a long time after she’s gone.

*****

And that’s how the story ends. With the sun smiling at the moon.

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #fanfiction #okay so i finished the owl house like yesterday and god do i think every single character in it is cute? hell yes #but amity! turns out im not immune to mean lesbians either because first episode and she was already my fav #also because she's exactly as much of a mess as me when i like someone #but anyways #here's a rambling oneshot i wrote about them being cute #also about them being the sun and the moon #so metaphors abound!

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fenheart87 · 4 years

Text

Blue Changes

We had a fun little challenge, we picked a prompt and had 3, 15 minute sprints to write something for the prompt. Then 24 hours for light editing to finish sentences if needed, grammar etc. This is my take on the the prompt "Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are Because you really are." Dedicated to @verfound 🧡

“Marinette, where is my favorite designer at?!” Jagged burst into the studio, Fang trotting happily next to him on her leash and Penny multitasking between her phone call and tablet. Technically he was supposed to be on a plane to New York, but decided to swing by Paris on his way because he had an idea that just could not wait and wanted to check on his unofficial niece anyways. There was only one speed bump in that plan, the studio was completely empty. The chaos of fabric strewn about and pieces half cut with scissors still mid snip definitely screamed someone was working hard or trying to at least, the mannequin with a half-pinned design and ripped fabric seemed to lean toward the latter.

“Looks like she’s not here… Must be taking a break. Penny, why don’t we order from my favorite bakery and make sure something extra special for Marinette. I’m glad we came here before the next stop on tour.” Jagged poked around at the sketches laying in abandon on the desk, some half crumbled on the floor and more stacked on a sketchbook.

“Seems like she is having some massive creators block… We should treat her when we have a break on the tour.” Penny suggested, already on the phone with Tom and trying to insist they would pay for their order.

Some of the sketches were brilliant but had marks of black throughout them, others were completely marked out and you could not even tell what the design was to start with. It hurt to physically see what pain Marinette was going through, most of the ones with the darker markings were of the same style. He could clearly see the thought of Adrien in the suits and matching dresses for Marinette, the anger of the marks showing something had happened or changed. Sighing heavily, Jagged gathered the papers, Fang batting the ones further away with her tail over to her owner. One paper had him blinking in surprise.

“Penn! Pen! Lookie here! D'ya see this?!” jagged shouted, shoving the paper into his assistant’s face, not even minding when she sighed and pushed it to a proper distance. It was a one-of-kind leather jacket and a custom hoodie drawn to match it. Either could be worn seperate or paired together. The colors were a contrast of electric blue and smokey turquoise, the theme was music and snake. Jagged recognized it as a rough sketch due to the lack of color or material notes along the edge that appeared on her finished drafts.

“Why was this crumpled up? It’s a really great idea!” Penny wondered aloud, noticing that the eccentric rockstar she commonly felt like she had to babysit was scheming. “Jagged no, whatever is it the answer is no.”

The door opened and in walked the designer they were looking for, Marinette seemed stressed and a bit run down. Her hair was thrown into a messy bun, one sleeve was pushed higher than the other and her shirt was wrinkled where it was tucked into her pencil skirt. Flip flops clacked along with her steps, another sign she was worn out if the basic shoe was more preferred to her custom made and very comfortable flats. An energy drink dangled from one hand and her design tablet occupied the other. Both guests watched as she made it all the way to her desk without noticing they were there.

“I have no idea what I'm going to do! I don't have anyone that fits that one or the orange one… I could make it a dress but who would wear it?! Ugh! I’m going to fail at this rate and then I won't graduate and I'll never design again, who would want something made by a failure-” Fang chose that moment to nudge her head onto the petite woman’s lap, startling her so bad she screamed and fell out of her chair.

“Well I reckon that I would love to have exclusive rights to all designs made by my favorite niece but we all know that’s not fair to the rest of the world. Now I know you are in a pinch and you’re stuck like a boat in the desert, so you’re going to take a break, spend some time with uncle Jay and make sure that you show poor Fang some love, she was all excited and you just screamed right in her poor face. C’mere my poor baby, Marinette is so mean I know.” Jagged showed the croc in love through pets and scratches.

“When.. How, why?” Poor Marinette was lost and couldn't believe the rockstar was in her studio when he should've been halfway around the world for the next stop on his tour.

“Okay, the only thing we’re doing right now is leaving all this behind for a much needed break for food and maybe a nap in your case. Time to relax and stop stressing for a minute." Penny authoritatively stepped in, stacking the papers on the desk, handing Marinette her purse and phone and with the help of Fang scooted the younger woman out the door.

Marinette protested "Wait I need to finish, it has to be done! I can't take a break, I just did!"

"Negative, now it's time for chow, and you need a shower, at your parents then we need to have a little chat. Ladies first!" Jagged gently shoved the designer into the car with cheer, allowing Fang and Penny to enter before him.

"So my little brilliant niece, we have some great news and a rock and roll deal for you! Can't tell you what is until after you've taken a break though." They grinned as Marinette grumbles as she gave fang the attention she wanted until they pulled up to the bakery.

Getting out of the car first, Marinette sighed at the smell of her parents baking, the smell melting off some stress like butter melting on a fresh from the oven croissant roll. Her stomach grumbled and she opened the door for the other guests, sneaking an excited Fang upstairs to not scare the other customers. Deciding to take a refreshing shower, Marinette went to her bathroom and put on some zen meditation music before getting in the shower. Quick ten minutes later and she was feeling much more alive and hungry. On a whim she grabbed a random outfit that she had made but never worn, pleated plaid skirt with a red checker pattern offset by the off the shoulder fitted top in a burgundy color, and threw it on before joining her guests.

"Oi looking good! One of yours?" Jagged shouted with his mouth full, causing Penny to smack his arm as a reminder to use manners.

"Sure is! Never worn it before but decided change can be a good thing and sometimes you have to start the change instead of waiting for it to happen." Grabbing her favorite pastry and a croissant because you can't just smell one and not eat it, she missed the concerned look her adopted guardians shared.

"So your studio was, well, you seem to be having a hard time." Pen tried to be gentle but made a face at her words.

"Yeah… Life is… Changing." Marinette mused, picking at the pastry.

"Marinette, what can Uncle Jay do to help?" Jagged's serious tone drew her gaze and his heart broke at the sight of unshed tears.

"I uhm well. I- That is, we-" With a huff, she calmed down and a look of determination shone on her face. "Adrien asked me out, on a date date in this really elaborate way. I turned him down. I have no idea what I was thinking but when he asked me I was so happy and then all I could think of was blue and how soft its is and it can be so calm or so chaotic and it’s always changing like the ocean but yet it's always the same and there this feeling of calm and I just couldn't say yes."

The quiet settled into a slightly awkward silence, Marinette was ignoring it and Penny was having nonverbal argument with Jagged on what to say next. With an eye roll that spoke louder than her shouting at him, the assistant took the lead once more. Quietly she rose from the chair she was occupying and sat next to the young designer smoothing out the crumpled sketch she had taken from the studio.

"Is this the blue you're talking about?"

"Yeah… That’s my blue." A gentle smile touched peach lips briefly, blue eyes going soft.

"Is this the skater kid?"

"Skater kid?" Marinette blinked in confusion.

"Nah Pen it's the boat kid."

"He has a name you guys!" Marinette broke down into giggles, looking much more like herself and less like a zombie just waltzing around and going through the motions. "His name is Luka, yes the one who went me skating with Adrien and Kagami, yes the boat kid who has a heart way too big for just his mom and sister. And now me…"

"Sounds like you made a change?" Penny prompted smiling widely.

"A blue one yeah, I did."

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are?" Jagged shouted, picking up the younger woman and swinging her around as she shrieked.

"Okay Jagged, let's not take over her whole day. We did have a reason to show up here after all." Penny handed the tablet to Marinette after he relinquished his hold. "This is what we're looking at for a surprise concert once we are back here in Paris. There's some issues I'm ironing out but I wanted to see what you think and if you would take lead on the design aspect."

"Wait, lead designer for your show?" Blue bell eyes swiveled between ocean blue and hazel sets, wide with disbelief and building excitement.

"Yup, this tablet is yours by the way. I do ask you to keep just business on it for the show, if you want more traditional sketches that's fine but once it's done it needs to be uploaded on here." Jagged explained, clapping a red clad shoulder.

"Oh you need an opening act? I've got that covered." The sparkle was finally back in her eye to match the mischievous grin.

"I agree with Jagged, are you sure no one has said it before because you really are adorable."

#lukanette endgame #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous lb #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #sprint challenge #Fen's Plunny Corner

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yuuri-nsane · 3 years

Text

Bloom [Part Two]

Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: nothing, apart from confused&toogoodforanyone!yuuri and troublesome!viktor - dont forget though, if you read this and feel that there should be a specific warning added for whatever reason, please dont hesitate to reach out!

Summary: Chamberlain Yuuri Katsuki has grown into quite a hard-working young man. He's efficient, really, and surprisingly strong (at least when it comes to hauling ridiculous heaps of laundry, and trapping the likes of royalty within his arms on a whim). Although considerably quiet, irrational and paranoid, one thing's for sure: all he wants to do is see the gorgeous blooming of The Royal Azalea. What happens when someone interrupts his way there, in a partially concerning, and definitely suspicious way?

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

a/n: yayyyy!! part two of bLooOoM!!! I had a sudden spout of inspiration and wrote this at 2am last night! awesome, right? :’)

anyway, this chapters quite long actually - a lot longer than the first, so sorry for that. but still, i hope you enjoy! and don't forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! thank you!!

---

"...What do you say?"

Yuuri could only stare at the prince; entranced by his words alone.

Not like he wasn't completely floored by other aspects of The Prince Viktor Nikiforov - considering this was probably the only time he'd held more than a three-word exchange with the man, he could barely believe the circumstance he had somehow found himself in.

It was most definitely a dream.

And Yuuri most definitely prayed to any deity that was willing to listen, that he would wake up.

Any time now.

See, Yuuri was more than horrified that he had not only touched the prince in an unwarranted manner, but that the prince was set on thanking him for it!

His gaze trailed tragically along the extended arm laid out before him (since when had that happened?), as if his majesty had expected for Yuuri to take his hand and ride into the sunset with him in a golden carriage, like a damned princess.

And the chamberlain, quite unfortunately, knew he was anything but.

Yuuri retraces his steps, recalling how exactly he had found himself face to face with the crown prince of Vreosia, who was next in line to take the throne and become king.

---

It had been quite a long day.

And Yuuri was more than ready to fall asleep on the hard, cold, so very cold, floor of the corridors.

For he had insisted for some unknown reason, that he were to cover for Guang-Hong Ji - who had not incidentally, no, purposefully, attended to his own chores in the castle.

For the last three days that is.

How had he not been caught?!

Yuuri couldn't help the small, indignant screech that had echoed the walls of storage room when the launderer had first cornered him, early in the morning, begging for help. Supposedly, he had been sneaking around the castle to meet one of the guards. What was his name, Lenny? Lucas? No, it was...Logan...? Wait! Leo!

Anyway, their schedules had never lined up, so Ji had risked it all for a little rendezvous.

It was basically love at first sight, he had whispered dreamily.

Yuuri couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, and yet a subtle smile graced his lips lovingly.

And because of his golden heart, he had thus agreed to finish up Ji's aborted chores around the castle.

With the condition, of course, that this would never happen again, and Ji would do his own chores from now on.

The launderer had agreed with much reluctance, to which Yuuri had responded with a light sigh and a general 'if you want to see that soldier again, you're going to have to put the work in - and not get into trouble'.

Much to Yuuri's dismay, there was a lot more to do than he had first expected.

He could barely fathom the pile of dirty sheets in the corner of the spare bedroom Ji had ended up secretly leading him to - it was almost as tall as him for goodness' sake!

Not to mention the additional list that his friend had sheepishly handed him: an entire two pages.

If Phichit saw him now, he'd never hear the end of it.

Three days worth of tasks, and Yuuri had exactly one day to do them all.

He was going to die.

And probably by suffocation of laundry.

Luckily, he did not.

He had just managed to sweep the floors of the spare bedroom and change the linen of the bed as dusk so elegantly arrived. Getting rid of the evidence was far too demanding, though Yuuri swallowed his complaints; he would never in a thousand years jeopardise Ji or himself for being caught for something as menial as a failure to do the laundry.

Prior to that, he had laboriously struggled with said laundry, the whole day consisting of his efforts to drag ridiculous masses of extravagant cloths down to the laundry rooms to be washed.

It was laughable, Yuuri concluded, how an entire castle full of at least fifty, had enough riches to provide for them all - and yet it was spent only on such materialistic values, that just the royal family could actually use or even touch.

Yuuri shook his head, he needed to hurry up. He had been planning to make way to the gardens for weeks now - but hadn't had such a chance. Especially with having to tend to Ji's overlooked errands.

The maid sighed as he paced through the halls, away from the bedrooms and further downstairs. The Royal Azalea were rumoured to bloom quite beautifully during the springtime, and as luck would have it, the castle gardens had quite the selection. Though in the three quiet years that he had been working for the royal family, he'd never been able to actually take a look.

Once, Phichit (a very close friend who he had first met when he started working in the castle) had recognised that the Rhododendron Schlippenbachii were quite so extravagant.

Trust Yuuri to avow shamefully that the binomial name of this flower had slipped through one ear of his and out the other.

But to Yuuri's relief, Phichit had also disclosed the more manageable name, albeit excitedly spurting more random facts about the flowers as well, which Yuuri could barely remember.

It was the chamberlain's own fault for becoming friends with someone who specialised in plants, specifically that in the Castle’s herber.

Hurrying slightly, the young man sped almost desperately through the castle - wishing to see the flowers already. He had things to do tomorrow, and God knew that he was too impatient to miss the blooming for the third time in a row.

He continued, carefully watching out for any patrols - as a now usual resident of the castle, and a working maid of so, he was nonchalant. He thought about which route to take, knowing that conveniently, going through the kitchens would be quicker and there would be less a chance of being stopped by guards outside. Yuuri shuddered: he wouldn't know how to explain himself if that happened.

"Oh, I just wanted to see The Royal Azalea in bloom, so I snuck out of the castle after dark! Which violates the rules of the castle, because you probably mistook me for a barbarian or worse! Not like you can get worse than that or something. But either way, that meant having to leave your posts to chase me down! What a waste of time and space!"

Now that he had reflected on it, there was actually nothing to think about.

He headed straight to the cookery.

As he skipped stealthily into the aisle leading to the kitchens, his breath caught. He stiffened. His eyes glued relentlessly to the back of a silhouette that creeped through the large, umber doors and into the kitchens.

A-a thief?

Yuuri shook his head.

No. There was no way a thief could've managed to sneak through the guards. Not with the new recruits...

Then Yuuri painfully remembered, most had little to no training nor experience, for the castle had been suffering a shortage of soldiers for quite some time now. Vreosia had always been a peaceful kingdom, but with new threat now arising from a nearby domain and its ruffians, the royal family had decided to take precautions - blindly, if Yuuri could say so much, taking in as many willing volunteers and making them swear their loyalty over to the Nikiforov's.

The chamberlain winced. He squeezed his eyes and counted slowly.

1...2...

This wasn't his responsibility.

...3...4...

He should just make a run for the maid's quarters; pretend he saw nothing.

...5...6...

He didn't want any trouble.

...7...8...

He was only a maid.

...9...

He'll probably die if he followed them.

10.

Yuuri sighed in frustration. A long and deep exhale gushed out of his nostril and onto the cupid's bow of his lips.

He continued after the mysterious shadow.

In doing so, he slipped through the doors leading into the cookery, and watched discreetly, as the offender passed the island in the middle - their silver hair gleaming in the moonlight that squeezed through the cracks in between hanging cutlery, and from the mighty window beside.

Wait-

-silver hair?

Silver, as in...

Yuuri gasped against his will. He quickly covered his mouth in disbelief, the realisation hitting him square in the face like a brick.

It was Viktor Nikiforov.

No, it was The Viktor Nikiforov.

The Prince Viktor Nikiforov: beloved by the entire kingdom for, well, everything.

Not only was he, for lack of better words, Prince Charming - but he was also the same man who had given Katsuki Yuuri quite a memorable first day at the castle.

With that, Yuuri recollects, the time he had witnessed Prince Nikiforov get absolutely hounded by both the King and his advisor at what was barely sunrise, for sneaking out of boundaries at such a late time.

Yuuri had spent the day being somewhat awkwardly showed around by none other than Phichit and Guang-Hong Ji, as well the the Steward; Georgi Popovich.

And funnily enough, the day didn't exactly end there.

He giggles, barely audible, as he remembers the way the entire castle had been awoken by Yakov's uninterrupted reprimanding, along with the King's very audible (so much so that it was slightly concerning) sighs and face palms.

All the staff, now disturbed from their slumber, stayed curious and intrigued in the lower chambers of the castle. They had somehow managed to convince Yuuri and Phichit (mostly just Phichit who had tugged Yuuri along without much pity) to go and see what the fuss was all about.

The two had made their way to the Great Hall, where Prince Nikiforov was sitting at a marvellous table, surrounded by the King and who Yuuri had assumed to be the prince's advisor, Yakov. He also remembers the four other guards present in the room, who seemed to shrink away as Yakov continued to yell in absolute annoyance.

He doesn't remember what exactly they had been discussing, but Yuuri reminisces the bored look on Viktor's face - but also dwells on the underlying fear that had been ever-present in his body language.

He goes as far as to think about the fact that he swears the crown prince had saw him then, behind a small entrance to the left, where he had hidden stupidly with Phichit: who seemed content staying in the corner behind Yuuri, listening carefully to the gossip but shielding himself away from the source - much to his exasperation.

With a hesitant flinch that became a full turn of his head, he remembers the way his highness' eyes had widened ever so slightly at him; the unmistakable eye-contact.

Curious blue eyes that glinted magically in a dizzy haze - an almost taunting look that beckoned Yuuri from the darkness. He also remembers the vague purse of his lips, a thin line that the maid couldn't help but fantasise about. Not to mention his shining hair and smooth-looking skin.

He wonders briefly what it would feel like to hold his face in his hands.

He's never told anybody about this.

Not Guang-Hong Ji, nor Phichit - who, as previously mentioned, had hidden behind Yuuri at the time, and so he missed exact moment the prince had possibly seen them, because it had been blocked off from his field of view. And either way, if Yuuri had ever told either of them about his little crush on the blue blood, he'd never live it down. They'd tease and meddle and so on.

The chamberlain was much more content admiring such beauty from afar. Quietly, that is.

And he knew, obviously, he wasn't the only admirer of Prince Viktor Nikiforov: royals and peasants alike.

Yuuri's glad it was almost pitch black in the Hall then, save for a few lit candles that had been placed atop the dining table as well as the one that the advisor had been holding, well, waving around quite dangerously.

If it hadn't been-

He's suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, after hearing an almost silent but nevertheless, shrill creak of a door.

The back door.

Why was Prince Nikiforov...?

Oh...

He was sneaking out.

Again.

Yuuri raised an unimpressed eyebrow - of course, this handsome but likely spoiled brat was intent on getting into more trouble.

He hadn't truly met the man, only exchanging polite greetings when he happened to set foot into the same room as him - a room in which would coincidentally happen to be where Yuuri was carrying out a task of his or two.

This had only happened a measly three times, over the expanse of his near three-year stay in the castle.

He supposes it's not fair to call his majesty spoilt or a brat, or any combination of the two. Not when he at least acknowledged him when he entered the room, unlike other important people who had visited the Nikiforov's kingdom for whatever business.

(And being born into fortune wasn't his fault anyway - it didn't automatically make him the selfish person Yuuri had first prejudiced)

He'd always kept his down during his completion of tasks, though - never fully looking the prince in the eye, minding his own affairs and scurrying away as soon as he'd finished.

He feared that he would be recognised from that night in the Great Hall, a good three years ago - if the royal had truly seen him.

He had taken extra precautions anyway, always avoiding the prince when he could afford to, and dragging someone with him to hide behind when needed. He knows he hadn't let the his majesty get a good look at his face, and yet, it wasn't enough to truly ensure that he wouldn't have registered his face by now. But it was enough to deceptively relieve Yuuri of the constant nagging worry that he'd be punished for eavesdropping on a fairly private matter.

And besides, it wasn't as if he had run into the man in question a countless number of times afterward - again, Yuuri could recall their one-on-one encounters on only one hand.

Even more so, he recounts that there had been a sort of business that the royal family had to attend to over the course of his first week there, meaning that Yuuri and other newly hired staff hadn't been properly introduced. Additionally, they never found the time afterwards, and soon enough two years and three quarters had passed, and no one in the castle felt introductions were quite so needed anymore.

This meant that his majesty hopefully wouldn't recognise him if he saw him, nor would he recall his name.

Yuuri had begun to head back out the kitchen, making a silent promise to visit the flowers tomorrow, when he noted a flicker of black through the corner of his eye.

A shape that had flitted across the expanse of the large window of the cookery.

Out of intuition, Yuuri ran over to the crown prince, wordlessly apologising before yanking him by the shoulders, away from the door and forcing his mouth shut with a single hand.

He had underestimated his own strength - or overestimated the prince's; it seemed that the taller man struggled in his grasp, bending backward to accommodate Yuuri's stand.

Perhaps carrying all that laundry had toughened him up.

The chamberlain stumbled blindly over to the wall behind, grappling against the royalty he had bundled up in his grasp.

It was then that he had begged the Prince to stay quiet, which had somehow proved effective with the sudden stillness of the man.

Or maybe it was because he could now hear the idle chatter of two guards from outside.

Yuuri's fairly sure he heard the name 'Leo'.

The name of the mystery man Ji had been sneaking around to meet. The very man who was probably the reason why Yuuri found himself backed up into a wall, currently giving what might've looked like a back-hug to Prince Viktor Nikiforov, but was instead a strange and sad parody of something more aggressive.

He silently curses him.

Soon enough, the guards had dashed away, and Yuuri had mentally started saying thank you, to who, he wasn't sure - yet, it didn't cease his sudden joy for successfully staying hidden away from said guards.

Yuuri can pinpoint, however, the exact moment it all went to shit.

Prince Nikiforov had half the mind to, all of a sudden, push Yuuri off of him, and pin him down to the wall - reversing their roles of captive and captor.

The maid recalls the initial overwhelming fear that had possessed his body then, and he was certain he was to be executed by dawn.

Who would've thought he'd live to tell the tale?

---

His lips parted in anticipated response, not yet fully knowing what he wanted to say.

Viktor Nikiforov now knew exactly what he looked like, as well as his given name. All his efforts over the years, gone lay to waste.

He should've minded his own business.

He could try to run as far and fast as his legs would allow, but it would do nothing to aid Yuuri, for the royal family could put a bounty on his head with such information.

Wonderful.

The prince stood, awaiting, arm still stretched out invitingly toward Yuuri, hopeful blue eyes that made the chamberlain feel small.

Yuuri flushes yet again, embarrassed and unsure - the crown prince was quite the charmer, he'd allowed himself to admitwithout much indifference.

It was then that the abrupt clatter of armour could be distinctly heard again, and two out-of-breath soldiers came bustling through the back kitchen door - one pointing accusingly at the maid himself.

"I told you I heard something!"

---

Taglist:

@thatonespidermonkey @stainedglassm

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zecretsanta · 3 years

Text

FIC:

To: @seen-true-evil

From: @windsorgirllove

Hello! For your gift I went with your Eric/Mira prompt, and I hope you enjoy longwinded talks about emotions! There will be a second chapter some time in January, because I ended up writing a lot more than I am prepared to edit right now, but I hope you enjoy!

AO3 LINK

They were alone in their apartment. Sean was over at Sigma’s getting some upgrade or other. The two of them were in the bedroom. Eric stood very still as Mira traced her finger along his shirt.

She paused over a seemingly random spot. "Right... here."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Mira nodded, mostly to herself. She tapped the spot again with her long nail. "Right here is where your heart is."

"Wow..." Eric brought his hand up to the spot she had indicated. Mira's hand skittered away when he brought his close, like a nervous spider. He lay his hand flat, palm down on his own chest. "That's incredible."

“It’s really not.” Mira shrugged, watching him. Her expression was even more unreadable than usual. "It's just anatomy. After a while it just comes down to memorization. But yours is right... there." She took his wrist and moved his hand to the left, slightly, and shifted it up. "Exactly there."

Eric looked down at himself. If he concentrated, he could almost feel his heart beating underneath his skin. "Huh."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Eric asked, quietly, "What... what do you remember?"

Mira raised an eyebrow. "What do you remember?" she asked him back.

Too much. Eric had been trying to sort through his memories since the desert, and every time he thought about it too much his head started hurting and he got dizzy. But a few things stood out.

"I... I think I died?" he said. "A few times."

"Any one in particular?" she asked, leaning against the dresser and crossing her arms. Eric sat down on the edge of the bed, hard, and folded his hands in front of him. Both of them were far too calm for the situation, in Eric's opinion. Discussing how you died wasn’t something calm, rational people do. He would gladly volunteer to be the person freaking out, except somehow he couldn’t. It was like someone had simply switched off the part of him that panicked. It would be nice if it weren’t so worrisome.

"Umm... in the library," he said, to answer her question. "The standoff. The kid shot me... no, wait, they tried to shoot you. And I jumped in front of you."

Mira nodded. "Both," she said. "At different times."

"How do you keep track of all of them?" he asked. “The timelines, I mean. For me it's all... jumbled. I can barely keep track of our one timeline that led to here. It's so complicated."

"It is," she agreed. "Believe me, I'm not having an easier time at all. That one just... stands out more to me."

"Oh." The pod room. Mira's body. The nail marks. Out of all the timelines, that was the one that stood out the most to him. He could almost feel the too familiar icy grip of a panic attack coming over him even now, as he thought about it.

"This is weird, right?" he asked. "Like, this is such a weird thing to talk about."

"Don't ask me." Mira cracked a smile. "I don't think I have a very good grasp on what could be considered normal."

"Don't say that. You're normal."

Mira laughed softly. "You still haven't remembered everything, have you?"

Eric was silent. He moved his hand from his chest to the back of his neck, rubbing slightly. At his throat his heartbeat was much more prominent, easier to find. Harder to ignore. "What about the library? You said that it stood out to you."

She nodded, slowly. "It did."

"Why?"

"The second one. Where you protected me. You didn't need to."

"I wanted to," he said, with complete conviction. He didn't actually remember how it went down, but he was certain of that. "You're my girlfriend, after all. Of course I would."

"I didn't for you."

"Well, it happened so fast. No one could expect you to react in time. Hell, I don't know how I managed to react for you."

"Hm." Mira tilted her head and examined him, her eyes narrowed. "Do you remember the Heart Ripper?"

"The serial killer?" They did talk about that at some point, didn't they. With Sean, in the rec room. He couldn't remember why it had come up, but he did remember Sean having some impressive facts that he just threw out at them. Which, knowing what he knew now, made sense. "What about him?"

"Her."

“Hmm?”

"I'm the Heart Ripper," she said, casually and calm as you please.

"...Oh." It should surprise him more. It should terrify him, make him want to run screaming from the room. But it didn't. He already knew it, after all. At least, technically speaking. "Why?"

"Why?" She laughed. "That's not the question I usually get."

"Have you told a lot of people that you are the Heart Ripper?"

"No, not many." She pushed off the dresser, taking two winding steps forward and cradling her arms against her stomach. "Why? That's kind of a long story. I should finish the first one first."

"The first one?"

"The library." She stopped in front of him, staring down at him with her arms crossed. "You didn't die immediately when Sean shot you. You could have survived, if we had given you immediate medical attention."

"Oh," Eric said. "But I did die. I'm sure of it."

"Yes. I shot you."

"Oh." He felt something turn in his stomach, and did his best to push it back down. "Well, it was a quick death, then, that way. Less agony."

"That's not why I did it."

"I know, you wanted to get out. I don't blame you. I mean, do you remember how insistent I was about leaving? It must have been a tough choice."

"That's not why either." Mira tilted her head, her hair falling ever so slightly in front of her eyes. "I wanted to kill you. Ever since we first met."

"Oh." This supernatural calm could only hold back so much of his nature. Eric began to panic. He stood suddenly, forcing Mira to take a step back. "Why? W-what did I do? Did I hurt you? I mean, I don't think I messed up our first meeting that bad-"

"No, you didn't. You did nothing wrong." She tried to step back towards him, but Eirc scrambled over the edge of the bed to get away from her. Mira stopped, her hand hanging in midair as though she wanted to comfort him. Her voice didn't sound particularly comforting, however. It was the same cool, almost monotone voice that she always had. "Have you ever heard the phrase about touching someone's heart?"

"Um?"

"It was something my mom told me. About when you touch someone's heart, then you can understand them. Then you can feel." She let her hand fall to her own chest, over her own heart. "I don't feel. I never have. That's why I kill. That's why I take out the hearts. To touch them. To feel what they felt."

"Mira, I..." Eric laughed, surprising himself. It was just on the edge of bitterness. "That's not how it works. I mean, that's just a saying. The heart isn't actually where we feel things. It's just a muscle. We feel things in the brain, through, um, chemicals, I think."

"Really?" Mira sounded genuinely surprised. "It's always worked for me, though. I feel... something when I hold their hearts. Something different from what I always feel. Different from each other, too. Maybe it was the remnants of their spirits, still giving off their final thoughts?"

"Come on, you don't really believe that stuff, do you?"

Mira tilted her head. "Don't you?"

"I mean, I was raised that way, I guess, but I don't actually know about souls or any of that spiritual stuff."

"I don't think it's any stranger than some of the stuff that we experienced at DCOM."

She had him there. "Well, that isn't the most important part, I guess. I mean, were you just... waiting to kill me? Ever since we met?"

"It wasn't like I was waiting with a knife behind my back for you to turn around since day one. Murders take time to plan. There's a reason I haven't been caught, you know. Besides, I never try to go for a kill the moment I meet someone. I want to wait and see, you know? In case the last one was the one that flipped the switch and turned my feelings on." Her face changed, her expression adding just a hint of sadness to it. "It never does, though. No matter how many feelings I collect, it doesn't change me. I can't add them to myself."

There were a lot of questions racing through Eric's head at the moment. He chose the one that was least likely to give him emotional damage. "Why did you agree to come to DCOM with me?"

"Because I was bored. I think I told you as much the first time you asked me."

"Oh, right." He had expected her to say no when he first brought it up. It was a strange whim to begin with. Eric wasn't exactly sure why he had wanted to do it himself. It was just... something to be a part of. Something bigger than himself. If the next step on the mission was to actually go to Mars, well, then, his name would be in history books, as one of the first test subjects in the initial experiment. It was just... something that mattered. For once in his life he wanted to do something that mattered.

"And I mean, it was interesting," Mira continued. "Whatever else you could say about the experience, it wasn't boring."

"No, trauma is a lot of things, but it isn't boring," Eric said, a bit sarcastically. Mira didn't seem to notice. Eric sighed, rubbing his face. "Why are you telling me this, anyway? Why confess now?"

"Because I didn't want to lie to you?" Mira asked. "No, that's not true. It's more that I wanted to tell you something, and you need to have that context to understand what I'm trying to say."

"What is it?"

"I'm getting to it." She took another step closer, and sank down to sit on the bed. Eirc stayed pressed up against the far wall. Mira counted out her points on her fingers. "Alright. You died. I killed you. Shot you in the head. And it wasn't to get out. It wasn't to give you a quick death. It was an opportunity - finally, a perfect opportunity to touch your heart." She curled her hand up into a fist, running the fingers of the opposite hand over her knuckles. "It's easier than you think to get through the body. Once there's no resistance it's like digging through a melon. I usually use a knife, at least to get to the heart, but once you were dead I just dug in with my bare hands."

"Damn.” Eric swallowed, his heart hammering. Apparently it had heard all of this talk about itself, and wanted to make itself known. “You did this all in front of Sean?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't usually do it in front of people, but that's only because usually people would send me to jail if they saw me digging into a body. I knew that Sean couldn't do anything about it, so I didn't mind."

"But still, he's a kid... that's not something you should do in front of a kid."

"Is he a kid?" Mira tilted her head. "You didn't seem to think so in the game."

"Well, I wasn't in the best state of mind in the game," Eric admitted. "I know better now."

"Either way, I don't think Sean minded. He didn't try to stop me, at least." She smiled, more to herself than to him. "It was the best one. You know that? Every heart that I've held, most of them are filled with fear, or with anger. Bad thoughts. Not you. You only had..." She stopped, thinking for a bit. "You really loved me, didn't you," she said softly.

"Yes," Eric said. "I do."

"I didn't really understand why," she continued. "I mean, of course I didn't. I don't know why anyone would love anyone. I don't think I gave you any reason to. But even when I killed you, you held no grudge. It makes no sense. Why are you like this?"

"Why am I... like this?" It was a strange question to Eric. "I mean, I guess I just am. Is it weird to care about someone?"

"When it's like this, yes. I've killed a lot of people. A lot of boyfriends. A few girlfriends, too. You're the only one who loved me at the end." She smiled again, worrying her thumb over her knuckles. "It felt nice. It felt so, so nice. I think... I think I felt... happy."

"Oh. Well, that's good. I'm glad."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're glad? I killed you. I don't think that you should be this happy about it."

"I wouldn't say that I'm happy about it, but... well, either way, I'm not dead now. I'm alive. That's what matters, I think."

"You're alive," Mira repeated to herself, her voice sounding dreamy and distant.

Eric slowly approached her, his hand held up in case of any sudden movements. "Um, was that what you wanted to tell me, or...?"

"Oh, you wanted more?" Mira asked playfully. "Should I tell you about the other time I killed you?"

"The other time?"

"No, I guess that wasn't everything," Mira said, before he could ask anything else. "But it's... it's what you said before. You're alive. I've touched your heart, and you're still alive. That's never happened before." She swallowed. Eric got the impression that she was nervous. It wasn't something that most people would be able to notice, but Eric had spent a lot of time watching Mira's face. He was starting to pick up on her cues. "I mean, you are the only person who's heart I've touched who is still walking around, who I can talk to after the fact. It means that... you're the only person who I can really, truly understand."

"Oh," Eric said weakly. "Neat."

"Neat?" She raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

"I'm sorry, I guess I just... don't really know what that means."

"It means that you are the only person who I can love."

"...Oh." Eric's breath caught in his throat. He rushed over to her side. "You mean it? You love me?"

"I said that I have the possibility of loving you now," Mira corrected. "But, yes. I guess I do."

"Really?" Eric could feel a genuine grin spreading across his face, almost without his control.

"You shouldn't be so excited," Mira said. "But yes. That's what I wanted to tell you. So..." She stood, taking a few steps away from him and the bed. Eric frowned, confused. "I don't know what you want to do now," she continued. "I don't even know what I want to do now. But if you want to leave I don't blame you."

"Leave? Why would I want to leave? Mira, wait." Eric scrambled after her. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Mira paused, half turned away. "I don't think that's my call to make," she said. She turned back to him and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Her body language was defensive, even though her voice was still even. Now Eric felt like he was the one who had to approach her carefully, like a frightened animal, one who was liable to bite.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the one who has done things wrong," she said. "I think murder probably ranks above, like, cheating when it comes to relationship do's and don'ts. I've told you everything, and now you have a choice to make. Either leave, break up with me, and walk away - and I don't blame you if you do. Or, you could stay, I guess. I won't stop you either way."

"Well, I want to stay, then," Eric said immediately. "That's the one that I choose."

"Why?" She cocked her head. "That doesn't make sense."

"Does love make sense?"

"No. I just told you."

"No, I-” He sighed. “Not just to you, I mean-"

"I mean, this doesn't really follow the rules of a relationship, as far as I understand them."

“Maybe not, but Mira- it’s fine.” He approached her slowly, reaching a hand out. She didn't move, either towards him or away. She just allowed him to come. He reached down and took her hand. "For the rules of a relationship, I think... maybe relationships don’t need to have rules. Maybe we can just take it slowly, day by day."

"But I killed you."

"You're so hung up on that."

"I think you should be a little more hung up on it," Mira said. "I mean, you need a serial killer to tell you that you shouldn't be with someone who wants to kill you."

"Well, do you still want to kill me?"

Mira shook her head. "There wouldn't really be much of a point anymore."

"So, yeah. I'm not in danger."

"I might kill other people, though," she said. "Maybe people you know. People you care about."

"You won't," Eric said quietly. "You can't. There's no one left. No one but you who I care about."

"That's pretty sad," Mira said.

"Yeah, well. You’ve killed people before. Do you feel sorry about it?"

Mira shook her head. "That's the thing. I'm not. I would do it again. It's been the only thing that has worked, to let me look into what it might be like to be an actual functional human being. Do you know what that's like?"

"To be an actual functioning human being?" Truth be told, Eric didn't, not really. More and more his coping mechanisms had been failing him, letting in more of the cold, the fear, the emptiness. Deep and dark, like the depths of the lake. He didn't know how much longer he would last on his own. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

"I should feel sorry, shouldn't I?" Mira asked. "If I was really feeling things, then remorse should be one of them, right? What if all of this was just me deluding myself, and I actually didn't steal feelings from the dying hearts of my dead boyfriends."

"Ha," Eric laughed, softly, but Mira looked serious, as though this was a legitimate concern. He shook his head. "Well, I don't think that you would ever have felt things the same as most people, even if you did go about it a different way. As far as I've seen, every person feels things a different way. I don't know, I'm not really an expert on these kinds of things. So I don't really know if you should feel sorry, or if you should feel anything, really. As long as you are happy."

"Hmm," Mira hummed. She considered him. Eric was close enough to touch her now, but he didn’t. "I don't know if I'm happy. I simply am. But I don't want to change. I think, if I had to choose, I would still choose the road that led me to here. Or rather, I don't know who I would be if I wasn't who I was right now. What if I was worse? What if I was just a complete monster, with no remorse?"

"I thought you said that you weren't sorry?"

“I'm not. But... I don't know. I can't say I didn't enjoy it, because I did, but I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have to. There was a reward in it for me. Without that, there would be no reason for it. Right? I wouldn't have killed if there wasn't a reason for it?"

"I don't know, Mira," Eric said honestly. "Only you can know that."

Mira frowned, and looked down. Eric hesitated, and then slowly reached out and took her hand. Mira let him. "Hey. Okay. So, you've killed people in the past. Fine. Do you still want to kill people now?"

Eric watched her take a deep breath, and then let it out with a sigh. "No," she said quietly. "I don't think I do. I mean, I can remember what it felt like, now. It fucking hurt.”

"Okay, so. There you go." Eric smiled gently. "No more murders. That's really all that we can ask of you, I think.”

"Excuse me for asking, but are you really okay with this?" Mira asked, raising an eyebrow. "Dating a murderer? Murder, in general? You should probably be calling the cops right about now. You aren't reacting normally to this at all."

"No, I... I don't think I react normally to most things, if I'm being honest." Eric scratched the back of his head. "Like I said, emotions are difficult for everyone. Mine are... mine are weird."

"...I don't think they're weird," Mira said.

Eric smiled. "Thank you." Their hands hung down between them, intertwined. They could try for more. But for right now, this was enough.

#zero escape #zero time dilemma #eric/mira #seen-true-evil #windsorgirllove #zecret santa 2020 #submission

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Title: Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide [Livestream] Summary: Luke has a Space Youtube Channel and Leia watches his videos to de-stress from a terrible day. Mouse droids are named and the Empire and its terrible quality are dragged through the sarlacc pit. AN: Anyway, did somebody said TIE-Fighter story prequel? No? Too bad.

Leia was a well-composed and well-behaved serene princess right up until the doors of her rooms closed behind her. The moment she was out of sight, she kicked off her shoes with such a force that they soared half across the room and crashed against her wardrobe with a loud crack. She took the pins keeping her braids in place out of her hair and threw them onto the dresser. Then as graceless as a regular fifteen-year-old girl, Leia dropped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

Today had been terrible.

Leia hated all the pointless festivities that only ever served to make everyone there feel important and powerful but did absolutely nothing for the people they were supposed to govern. She couldn’t understand how her parents managed it. They were good and selfless people, always calm and serene even when the newest governor was basically spitting one insult after the other at them. Leia always wanted to shout back, it was her first instinct. Idiots who couldn’t be bothered to contribute anything productive or kind, should shut up and stop hindering others from doing their job. Leia had kept her mouth shut of course. She had smiled pleasantly as her mother had taught her and acted as expected from her.

But that didn’t mean that she hadn’t wanted to strip the gloves off her hands and show him how much of a bloodthirsty royal she really was. She shouldn’t have desired it, but it annoyed her so much when others purposefully misunderstood her. It had been a year since she picked her coronation color. When would people finally stop commenting on it?

Yes! Princess Leia Organa had chosen white! She’d forgone five-hundred-years of tradition and picked the color of the snow on Alderaan’s mountains, of ice so cold it burned, of the sheets upon which they wrote the names of their dead.

Leia wore the color of war, mourning and remembrance and she wore it well.

How could she not when the Empire was murdering innocents, subjugating whole worlds and waging an unjust war? Picking green or blue would be an insult upon the suffering she had been forced to witness. She didn’t want to be remembered as another impassive royal, bowing to the whims of the Empire. Leia hadn’t been meant to live in a tyrannizing Empire in which she had to watch her every word and step. She wanted to speak her mind and missed the Republic she never got to experience.

Her parents, while displeased she out herself in such danger, had understood it. Most Alderaanians understood it and supported her, but not that stupid new governor. Instead, he went on and on about her image and character flaws – and worse! Talked about marriage.

Leia was already dead set on staying unmarried. Her parents had been lucky. Despite their marriage being arranged, they’d loved each other. Or maybe they had been in love first and the political advantage of the marriage was just a bonus. Leia didn’t entirely know, but she knew to one hundred percent that all her potential Alderaani suitors sucked. They were arrogant and petty or worse, both of that but way older than her as well. She could marry somebody from a different planet, but the Old Houses would frown upon that and then she’d have to deal with more in-fighting and risk losing control of Alderaan’s society and give the Empire even more access to her planet. It was bad enough as it was.

Groaning, Leia rolled onto her back and got up from her bed again. She’d hate herself in the morning if she didn’t dress out of the fine robes completely. She fetched herself her sleeping clothes and washed the make-up off her face. It felt like taking off uncomfortable armor and she was more than glad to get rid of it. Leia didn’t mind dressing up. As a child, she had loved trying on her parents’ much too large clothes and she still loved picking out dresses together with her mother, but sometimes she wished it all wouldn’t take so much energy.

Redressed, Leia returned to her bed, ready to pretend to fall asleep when she knew that she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes now. Her mind was too unfocused, her thoughts all jumbled up. She laid still and waited until another moment had passed before reaching for her bed stand and pulling out her secret private comm.

Leia had three of them. One for official business, one was the officially private secret comm – the one every important person in the galaxy was supposed to have and hide – and then there was her own, which she used to stay up-to-date with activities unbefitting on an Imperial princess.

She checked the holonet, skimming through articles that made her blood boil and delightfully bright art that called for resistance. She was pleased to notice that more and more Alderaani artists were choosing lighter colors in their barely legal paintings and downright joyful when she saw an account post images of white flags. Those posts would probably be taken down once the meaning behind them spread a little more, but Leia was proud nonetheless. She had caused this, this was her contribution to the Rebellion.

In a better mood already, Leia went through her notifications. She had a few replies to articles she had written and- oh.

[Notification: Scrap Hunting has started a livestream – 1 Min ago]

Smiling widely, Leia clicked on the link connecting her to the video. The livestream had indeed only started recently, and not even properly. Leia had missed the last one sadly because she’d been in the Core, too far away for Scrap Hunting’s terrible holonet connection to reach. Alderaan was just close enough to Tatooine for Leia to watch them.

She couldn’t quite recall how she had stumbled upon the channel. She had just been clicking through some random videos one day and there it had been. Leia wasn’t all that knowledgeable about ships – her parents had kept a keen eye on her since the Speeder accident she’d had when she was ten – and didn’t really have much access to the hangers either. Droids, on the other hand, Leia knew plenty about. They were everywhere and nobody wanted to live without them, which made them the perfect spies with the right adjustments. Leia knew how to wipe a droid’s memory so clean, it was shinier than any crystal and how to hide protocols upon protocols in their storage. Her favorite droids were C-3PO and the R2D2 unite serving on the Tantive IV. Artoo especially had a lot of personality. Leia needed to sort out her Binary so she could catch all the colorful curses the astromech liked to inflict on people.

The two boys running Scrap Hunting – well, only really Luke actually – were sympathetic. They didn’t talk about droids like they were simple tools and they were proficient in fixing them up. Therefore Leia was very pleased to see that the title of the livestream was Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide. This would be fun, the right kind of distracting noise she needed after such a long day.

“Alright, we’re all set up now,” Luke said. “Hello everybody! I’m Luke and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting!”

He waved at the recorder and then picked up a small back droid from his table. “This is what today’s livestream will be about! An MSE-series droid! A lot of you guys said you’d like more livestreams and the weather’s been pretty good recently and I fixed the signals so I hope this works out just fine.”

Luke smiled and reached for the first tool lying in front of him. “I decided that fixing up this little guy here should be fine for a shorter video. I don’t have to think so much about what I’m doing and can talk at the same time.”

He began taking off the outer casing of the droid and carefully set it aside. “I know, I know, I’m always talking, but nobody complains about it.” Luke stopped spinning his wrench for a moment to think. “Okay, alright, maybe my uncle complains about it sometimes but that’s what he gets for making me check all the vaporators on my own. Anyway, I talk a lot and so does this chat. Lots of people joining in here! Hi!”

Luke looked through the chat, returned greetings and explained how he had gotten the droid as payment for helping out in a repair shop.

“And I know the owner thought he was just giving me so boring little plaything, but do you know how versatile these MSE droids are?”

Leia definitely knew how useful they could be. She grinned when Luke comically shook his head when people began sending in question marks and began belittling the tiny Mouse droids. They made excellent spies, infiltrators and guides. Underestimating them just because they were cute was fatal. Leia was happy when Luke reacted as outraged as she was and began elaborating on what the droids could be used for.

“And like, I get sending the droids back when they trigger your instincts, I wouldn’t keep around a droid that reminds me of a womp rat or a krayt dragon.” Luke paused, the half-open mouse droid lying on his lap, and apparently considered his suggestions.

“Okay, maybe I would actually want them. Could you imagine a droid krayt dragon? So cool.”

Luke reached for the nearest datapad and took a few notes, then put it next to him on the table and returned to working on the MSE.

“But yeah, point being: Why did the Aar’aa sell them to the Empire so cheaply? Add some extra software and boom, you can sell them for twice the price. Then you’d even make a bonus. Oh, well, I suppose the Empire at least made a good deal there.”

The MSE droid laid bare now and Luke could easily access its memory. He took his datapad once more and connected it to the droid. After a few seconds, he had access to its memory and immediately frowned.

“Or it did not. What is this programming? I researched what I could find before, downloaded some protocols-“ Luke looked away from his datapad to point down, “-links in the description as always. But just- honestly. Who wrote this protocol?”

He gently knocked his head against the droid’s frame. “I’m so sorry, don’t worry, I’ll speed up your processors.”

The next hour, Leia spent listening to Luke ramble on about what changes he made and why. Once or twice she even threw her own suggestions in the chat and watched contently as Luke picked up on them and began to work with them. She wished she didn’t have so many duties and could spend her days doing things she actually wanted, take a more active role in the rebellion. But she supposed that as long as she could escape annoying politicians for a while, she’d be fine.

Leia glanced at her chrono. While it appeared to be midday still on Tatooine, it was already early morning for her. She should head to sleep soon.

Thankfully, the livestream was also wrapping up. Luke had reassembled the droid and screwed the last bolt down.

“And done!” Luke said and helped up the repaired Mouse droid. “A Quick And Easy Guide to Mouse Droids. Now, the only thing left is repainting and naming it. Same rules as always, highest donator gets to choose the color and the name.”

Leia watched as a lot of people began donating. Some just threw in five credits, just to support the channel. She’d done so before as well. It was only right to help somebody else and give him a thanks after cheering her up. Leia typed the first one, then stopped.

She was tired, had been for at least thirty minutes now, but her mind was finally calm as well. She was still and upset, but not so that she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Leia shouldn’t waste her allowance on this, but Leia had also had a terrible horrible no-good day and wanted to name that Mouse Droid.

“And that was it!” Luke announced. “Many thanks for all your donations. I’ll keep you posted on what my next project will be. Hopefully something a little more interesting than this little buddy here. Now let’s see… The highest donation is one- one thousand credits from @rebelroyal!?”

Luke’s voice was awfully high-pitched, shock visible all over his face. “Is this real- oh gosh. Thank you so, so much! I’m not sure- Many thanks for supporting this channel! You may name any future Mouse Droids I come across, oh Force. Right. Uhm. What is your suggestion?”

Leia eyes her discarded white dress on the floor and chose.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

Paint it white and name it Emmy! Many thanks for all the lovely content you provide.

Little Emmy, it turned out, look much better in white than it did in the awful black so representative for the Empire.

[Notification: Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot has mentioned you in a new post]

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

[Foto: Five Mouse Droids standing in front of Luke, who was sitting on the ground, smiling cheerfully. The droid in the middle was Emmy. It was a little banged up and had a couple more scratches. On its right were an orange and a blue droid, freshly painted from the looks of it. On Emmy’s left were two black ones]

@ rebelroyal The orange and blue ones have been painted and named already, care to do the honors for the other two?

Leia smiled fondly at the picture and began to type.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

How about yellow and green? Benny and Penny so it rhymes?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Done :D

[Foto: The two previously black mouse droids have been painted as well and are furiously cleaning the floor of a ship]

#star wars #leia organa #Luke Skywalker #emmy the mouse droid #fanfic #im back on my social media mess

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daisychvins · 3 years

Text

｡･ﾟﾟ･ — introduction.

introducing ... violet’s demise ! aka grayson aka her big brother she’s been wiring money to stay away in europe <33333

name: grayson swag money jeon age: 22 turning 23 (don’t ask me about his sign that’s for liza to figure out someday <3) gender: cis male; he/him hometown: baltimore, maryland sexuality: bisexual & biromantic

listen i was feeling rlly committed to completing his stats but i’m already over it so don’t ask dont tell xx anYWAYS let’s get on to the juicy stuff hehe

i tend to ramble a lot so this intro is gonna be probably a mixture of paragraphs and bullet points and everything in between but let’s start simple. also i rlly wanna emphasize a massive DRUGS TW bc his character largely revolves around his interest in and addiction to drugs

blackmails

grayson is claiming that he's been in a rehab program for the last year and is now completely sober and reformed when he really was just using the money to party and travel throughout europe.

without his parents paying to support him now, he's had to start dealing to make ends meet and keep up appearances. it’s mostly coke, but he dabbles in harder substances depending on what his connections can get him.

grayson dabbles with calligraphy and was notorious for forging excuse notes and parent signatures all throughout high school and even now sells forgeries for a quick buck. the most notable of these was xavi’s letter of recommendation that helped him get into yale.

background

grayson is violet’s older brother!!1 yes, that’s right, THE big brother who’s been out of the country getting LIT (and by lit i mean he’s been traveling europe on a series of solo trips w his parents’ money and doin lots of recreational drugs)

i haven’t fully fleshed out the dynamic he has w his parents but just know it’s ,, bad ASDHFJNK basically the jeons treated their children like accessories and expected them to be their little trophies and grayson just was not having that as a kid!!! so he acted out a lot and obviously got himself into a pretty bad scene (thank u goosie) and is basically the bane of his parents existence at this point <3 yet they still try to appease him to keep him under control but that’s for the family task to work out hehehehe

despite hating his parents, he adores both of his siblings. before the drug use started, he was always a big nurturer and would have done anything for either of them......now he wouldn’t be caught dead praising violet but he loves her in secret from afar HSJDFKG

yeah basically he met goose when he was around 15 i think????? and got introduced to drugs around 16 or 17 i wanna say and by the time he graduated high school he was just....a much different person than the soft big brother he used to be. his parents sent him off to europe pretty much as soon as he turned 18 under the guise of going to school internationally, but grayson obviously knew the truth and understood that he was being sent away so he wouldn’t be his parents problem anymore.

he basically spent the last four years galavanting europe and just....trying to enjoy it???? but it’s hard to enjoy an extended vacation when u have no family or friends on ur side anymore </3 he basically used the money to stay in hostels and worked odd jobs here and there to stay afloat and keep supplied w the...special goods....but yeah lots of drugs, alcohol, sex, and recklessness but he DID learn a couple languages??? or at least enough to get through some pretty basic conversations in most european countries so <3 guess it’s all okay then!!!!

anyways idk what else to put here that u won’t just find out in the family task so uhhhhhh idk lmk if u need anything else i guess

present/personality

so now grayson is just vibing at yale obviously ummm he actually got super into writing after high school, especially poetry. he used to carry journals full of just random prose about his addiction and his deepest thoughts, as well as probably some lighter stuff about his love escapades or maybe goose idk...basically he used poetry as an outlet and it allowed him to really ground himself and find his place in the world even if it didnt include who he thought it would SO with that being said, grayson got into yale due to a poetry competition he was a part of. he saw some big fancy competition being advertised and on a whim decided to submit some poem about his struggles with addiction and losing his family (a v raw piece that he didn’t expect to ever see the light of day) and he actually ended up winning! it caught yale’s attention and they invited him to apply and, knowing how much it would probably disturb his little sister, grayson very smugly applied and was pretty stoked to see he got in

because that poem gained such publicity, it was assumed that he was a survivor of addiction and was writing from a sober perspective. he didn’t want to correct anyone, so he just went with it and has basically crafted this story about his massive success and has become an advocate for addiction treatment and rehabilitation. of course, none of the companies that sponsor him or the events that host him as a motivational speaker know that he’s snorting lines in the bathroom beforehand or dealing to half the elites, but that’s between grayson, god, and the blackmailer !

basically grayson showed back up because of violet’s blackmail being exposed. he was off in europe, unable to defend himself, and with a massive vendetta against his family so he decided what better way to reenter society than by publicly outing himself as a martyr <3333 his plan is basically to bash the family name to fulfill whatever angsty coming of age arc he has in store for him to make up for the pain of being sent away .... really angsty yeah </3 rip grayson

anyways yeah he’s a total fake. he’s been using his status as a martyr to his advantage a lot, the best example being his recruitment into the elites. he guilted them into accepting him by discussing the PR benefits of recruiting a member that struggles with addiction and how supporting addiction treatment and second chances would be such a good look for them. like he basically threatened to publicly expose them for denying him due to his troubled past and accuse them of being exclusionary so they said boop ! ur in. now the elites are proud advocates for second chances <3333

i would describe grayson as fearless, overconfident, infamous due to his condition being exposed recently, a little gloomy, he’s kind of just got this chip on his shoulder and feels like he has something to prove....he’s gotta be better than his parents, gotta stick it to them and to violet and to everyone who doubts him. he’s a grumpy guy with a massive vendetta and a need for some kind of justice. he just doesn’t know what that is yet. despite all of the bad, however, he’s genuinely a pretty good guy. he’s really goofy and a genuine person, pretty friendly with literally everyone until they give him a reason not to be. basically, unless you are a member of the jeon family he probably likes you or is at least cordial to you (unless we plot differently ofc but u know). he’s just a big lovable dummy with some sweet drug connects and a knack for poetry. he also knows calligraphy but that’s beside the point .

idk if this is enough to describe him but yeah if u have any questions just let me know hehe

this is probably gonna make things hard but considering violet was just exposed i think that he’s pretty new to yale ???? like probably just transferred in/started this spring semester rather than being here for the entire year/a prolonged amount of time so most of our plots will likely have to be newer/center on him first showing up OR we can establish their connections from pre-europe which is also fine w me....idk i didnt rlly think this timeline through so let’s just plot and see what happens aghbfjnd anyways i included some connection ideas to help us all just in case

wanted connections

i’d say he’s the honorary dealer of the elites aghbdfjn so literally anyone who needs a plug could be a potential connection. we can obviously tweak this and customize it to each character <3

maybe someone who met grayson in europe. they could have travelled together for an extended period of time or even just a brief encounter. he was over there for four years, so the possibilities are endless.

building off the last one, this same connection could work with a romantic interest. maybe they were romantically involved for a time in europe and fell out of touch or maybe grayson/your muse just left in the middle of the night and they never saw each other again until now and maybe there’s some unresolved feelings/one-sided longing or need for closure. it could also be that they just hooked up whenever this person was in the area and that was that, no strings attached.

maybe someone who genuinely believes that grayson is actually sober and really admires his strength and idk maybe they’re struggling w their own issues and seek advice from him or maybe they just make it harder for him to actually do his thing bc they’re constantly around and it’s not like they can catch him strung out and acting up

someone in the literature department or with a background in english or writing. someone he could read poetry to, or share his favorite lines with. someone who’s taken the same professors and can tell him who to watch out for or what to expect. idk i just want him to have someone to share his passions with. maybe a little crush is forming? maybe they’re just friends who share a love of fiction? idk i’m open to literally anything

he’s sort of a motivational speaker now bc he advocates for rehabilitation resources and stuff so like maybe ur muse saw him give a presentation or participate in some kind of seminar and they called bullshit on him after the show bc they were like,,, bro i literally saw u partying w max and avery last weekend what the fuck are u on about and now they could potentially hold that blackmail over his head hehe......

exes plots are always fun we love angst in this house

fuck it let’s bring another family member BHJFNGKM no but grayson rlly is a nurturing guy and like....definitely develops unhealthy attachments to cope w his loss of family so he’d love all the sibling-like bonds he can get to kinda numb the pain of “””””losing””””” violet

if none of these interest you i’m literally so down for anything pls just let me know and i’m happy to brainstorm always <333333

thank u for reading this....smooch .

#anyways this is just under 1900 words whoops #stream of consciousness wins again #intro #literally dont even have my tags sorted yet dont talk to me .

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