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spilledkauffie · 3 years

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Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place.

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest.

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support.

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer.

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes.

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief.

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.”

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.”

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him.

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne.

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.”

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way.

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired.

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.”

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier.

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself.

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

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Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

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novantinuum · 3 years

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Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

#su #spinel #stevonnie #su fanfiction #my fic stuff #hollowed moon #this isn't REALLY 'my fic stuff' since it's unwritten but #i think it deserves to be here. this is the full unfinished plot of a fic that got the most exposure of anything i've ever shared in fandom

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

The Vines that bind us - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous Ladybug or any DC characters. I own only the plot, and even that is inspired by the amazing story "Marigold Ivy" by @lwandile13 on Wattpad. Go check it. It's great. He allowed me to take some inspiration, for which I'm grateful. Also, don't translate the french words maybe. Or at least do it on your own responsibility. Big thanks to @Liza! on Discord for being my Beta :)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a normal girl, with a normal life. But she had a secret. Her real name was Marigold Isley. She was born under that name in Gotham city sixteen years ago. Her mother never revealed to her who was her father, but Mari never cared. She was happy with her mom and several aunts and uncles. Technically, none of them were related to her by blood, but Rogues were quite close to each other (excluding some outcasts like Joker or the Menagerie). They taught her many interesting things such as lockpicking, stealth 101, or hand-to-hand combat. She was five when it started, so her first-ever practical test was breaking into a kitchen cupboard and stealing a jar of cookies. Overall, she was very happy.

It changed when she was eight. One very tired social service person named Elizabeth Barrow got wind of a child of a villain. That Elizabeth was new to Gotham after being reassigned from Metropolis and didn’t yet get the wind of how things worked. Maybe her colleagues didn’t like her, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the problem in Gotham. Previously, there was an unspoken agreement in the government that they wouldn’t notice Marigold. In exchange, rogues were calmer. Or at least tried to keep the death toll down. For a time, Gotham even started to slowly heal. But then, Elizabeth took the case of Marigold Isley. Ivy tried to fight. To protect her daughter. For three days, the city was held hostage by giant plants. It was only the fear in her daughter’s eyes that made Poison Ivy relent and let go. She didn’t want that life for Marigold. The one condition she gave was that the girl would leave America as a whole, to ensure she would be safe from all the madness.

And so Marigold ended up in the care of baker’s couple in Paris. She never showed any powers thus far and the adoption agency kept the parentage a secret. That’s when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born. She continued with martial arts training and stealth training, but now only as fun and reminder of her mother and extended family, as opposed to actual necessary survival tool. She also picked up designing as another hobby, which soon turned into a kind of obsession. She was generally a ray of sunshine.

The one black spot in the happy world of Marinette was the Mayor’s daughter. Chloe Bourgeoise considered herself above others and just couldn’t stand sunshine girl. She ruined her clothes, sometimes damaged her homework, or verbally assaulted her. While Chloe was generally disliked, she was more of a nuance. Overall, Marinette was happy. At least until two events changed that.

When she was twelve, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth for the first time. Marinette found herself becoming Ladybug, a superhero with magical powers that protected the city from harm. She received a partner in form of Chat Noir. It took some time before she got hang of it, and then more time before she and Chat became an actual team. Over time, more heroes joined them, even if temporarily only. She had people she could count on. She became Happy again.

Privately, she started her own brand: MDC, managed to become a class representative, and became best friends with Alya, who joined around the same time she became Ladybug. It was quite ironic. The superhero was best friends with one person whose greatest dream was to unmask the hero. Marinette also developed a huge (and a bit unhealthy) crush on Adrien Agreste, a famous model who was in her class. She spent years vying for his attention, but nothing ever came from her attempts. She was unable to even say a word around him and her face always became red like her mother’s hair. Overall, she couldn’t complain.

Then, when she was fifteen another black spot appeared. It was Lila (Liela) Rossi. She came to their school and immediately started sporting lies with every breath. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to buy into that, believing her like she spoke the gospel. Everyone but Marinette. She tried to expose Lila, but it only backfired. She became an outcast, disliked by everyone, and universally hated. Suddenly, it became okay to bully her because she was a bully herself and deserved it. It became okay to shun her and no longer include her in anything. The worst was Alya, her former best friend. At first, she just tried to nudge Marinette to give Lila a chance. When Marinette tried to show the truth, Alya practically attacked her. She was just as much responsible for Mari being cast out as Lila was. The fact that her best friend abandoned her only fueled the gossip and allowed Lila to drive the final nail in. In the span of a few weeks, Marinette was left alone.

Around the same time, Chat Noir became more persistent in his pursuit of her while Adrien, who Marinette knew was aware of the lies, was only telling her to keep the high road (do nothing). She could understand him. As a famous model and son of a well-known fashion designer, he was always taught to not provoke the press. It still served as a wake-up call on her crush.

--------

Marinette was packing her things after lessons when she noticed someone approach her from behind. Immediately, she tensed. After eleven years of martial arts practice, it was an instinct. Before she had time to turn around, something heavy landed on her desk with a loud Thud!. She turned to see Chloe standing over a large book, a single thick envelope, and a puffy bag that content Marinette couldn’t guess.

“What’s a…” She started, but Chloe cut her off. She had her usual ‘resting witch’ expression.

“The book contains every single instance I verbally assaulted you, destroyed something of yours, talked about you behind your back, or in any way otherwise did something wrong toward you. Here are the materials for the damaged clothes,” she pushed the bag toward her, “and here is money for other things.” Chloe gave her the envelope. “I apologize for all of that. I was jealous of all the attention you kept getting even though I thought I deserved it. I now realize that my behavior was wrong and hurtful. I will understand if you’ll never speak to me again. I kept acting ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” With that, she turned and started to walk again. Marinette idly noticed that there was no Sabrina nearby. Thinking back, Chloe was no longer acting (overly) mean toward anyone as of late.

Making a split-second decision, Marinette raced after the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

“Wha…” Chloe yelped before sinking into the hug. Neither girl realized they were crying until they finally separated. Blonde had her lite make-up in total ruin while Marinette had tears still going down her cheeks. “Does that mean you accept my apologies?”

Marinette didn’t answer immediately. She stood there with open mouth for a moment before smiling weakly. “Yes, Chloe.”

Since that day, they were best friends. It turned out to be a blessing. Chloe, once she finally allowed someone to truly know her, turned out to be a highly intelligent, funny, and very much still overbearing person. She still acted high and mighty, but it no longer felt mean, rather just… felt. She took to defending Marinette from the rest of the class. She was aware of Lila’s lies from day one but never acted on it until it was too late. Sabina abandoned her for the liar. Dealing with loneliness was hard on her. She didn’t even have parents that cared. Her father would probably move sun if she asked, but he had an emotional range of a toothpick. Her mother didn’t even know her name, so she didn’t bother.

Something about their friendship must’ve upset Lila because the girl upped her game. Marinette’s parents suddenly found themselves facing strong critique and constant inspection from the sanitary department and child protection questioning their parenting abilities. MDC, who was slowly becoming one of the go-to fashion designers for famous found herself in the middle of several fake media scandals, including one lawsuit over defamation. If it wasn’t for Jagged Stone and Penny rallying her customers, Marinette and her parents would end up broke. He managed to save MDC and practically made her untouchable. Still, Alya and Lila got off scot-free as nothing could be linked to them.

Perhaps what pushed Lila over the edge was Chloe confronting Adrien. She yelled at him for good two hours straight about responsibility and morality, pointing in detail exactly what he did wrong. She would probably go on if Marinette didn’t stop her. After that, Adrien finally apologized and tried to make things right, but it only turned against him. By then, Lila had everyone so deep into it, that he was powerless. She didn’t go after him as her partnership with Gabriel Agreste was too important, but she did tattle to the Fashion Mogul about it. Gabriel tried to get his son under control, but this was one thing that he couldn’t achieve.

It did inspire a whole youth fashion line ‘rebel’, which became a global hit.

All this time, Marinette kept two secrets. One was her identity as Ladybug and the guardian, the other was her true name and family. Until she kept neither.

----------

Marinette returned home after another day at school. Recently, her mother revealed she was pregnant with another child, even though she was believed to be barren. Everyone in the bakery was overjoyed and the couple even started to hand out small treats to any guest that came. The free samples helped the business return to a better standing.

When she entered, strangely there was no sound in the bakery. It was empty. Usually, her parents would both be very busy as it was still business hours. Slightly worried, she went upstairs. When she entered the living room, she found an envelope addressed to her.

Isley

We tried, but we can no longer tolerate you. We turned a blind eye when we learned how improper you act, trying to drag every boy you meet for some, and we quote, “alone time”. We didn’t react to the bullying accusations, believing them to be overexaggerated. Even when you were expelled, we still had hoped you’ll turn out into a fine young lady. But now, we must think of the baby. Today was the last straw. Hearing about how you ruined that poor impaired girl’s birthday was both cruel and against everything we taught you.

We held hope you won’t follow in your mother’s footsteps, but you proved us wrong several times. We supported your obsession over fashion, even with the drama it caused, because it was actually non-violent. At first, we didn’t want to teach you how to fight, but we convinced ourselves that you would have a way to vent the emotions somewhere away from us.

Please, don’t try looking for us. We will probably have already left the country or even the continent. The bakery is yours. We don’t want to have anything to do with the spawn of evil such as you.

We hoped you would turn out better

Sincerely,

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng

Marinette tried to read it over and over again, but her eyes welled with tears. She had no idea she was screaming until her throat was coarse. Rationally, she knew she needed to keep calm or she would attract the Akuma, but emotions made her not care.

Unknowingly to her, the plants all around Paris responded to her cry. They started growing and spreading, trying to get to their queen and comfort her. The Akuma that would’ve come for her stumbled into one of the vines, corrupting it. Hawkmoth was surprised, it was not something anyone ever seen in Paris except on TV or some strange Japanese shows that play after midnight. The more important thing was that even though he akumatized the plants, he had no control over them. He couldn’t even recall his Akuma.

Back in Marinette’s living room, she started to feel the ground rumble. Soon, plants exploded from the ground and broke windows. She slowly looked at her hands to see them tinted with green. They were not the same as her mother’s, but close. She looked to the floor where pieces of glass littered everything. Her face was the same, but her hair became blue and her eyes were now the most vibrant iridescent green she’s ever seen, exactly the same color her mother’s eyes were.

She started to panic even more. Tikki floated next to her, talking to her, but Marinette couldn’t hear her. Or maybe process it. She could hear the plants call to her. She could hear them speak. They promised her revenge. They promised retribution on those who attacked her. God’s wrath would rain upon them from the sky and hell’s fury would consume them from beneath.

Impaired girl…

“Liar Rossi.” Marigold seethed. She knew there was only one person who would do such a thing. Only one talented enough to convince her parents she was a villain. If they wanted a villain, they would get one. Her mind was being clouded. Her clothes were already torn, replaced by a skintight outfit made of leaves, much like her mother wore. Then, Marinette remembered another part of the letter. She added a skirt made of purple petals that complimented her blue hair nicely and long sleeves that reached to her hands, ending with a triangle that reached her middle finger and surrounded it at the base. She left the decolletage as it was.

Exiting her house, she allowed the vines to carry her. There were only so many places The Liar could hide. First, she went toward School, as it was closest. She made plants carry her over the roof right into the courtyard while more of them broke the doors and blocked any exit. The fencing class was still going on, but The Liar was not there. She looked over the scared crowd, spotting two people she wanted to find. She needed to protect them from The Liar, else they end like her. She grabbed the fencer in a red outfit and her partner, knocking their masks to reveal Kagami and Adrien. The plants wrapped around them, forming a sort of cocoon before dragging them to the heart. Marinette then turned her sight to Eifel tower. She knew The Liar liked to drag the class there.

As she moved through town, she passed the Hotel where Chloe lived. Pausing, she made the plants lift her toward the balcony. Her best friend was indeed there, right next to the lit-up Bee-signal. Honeystly…

“Marinette!?” The blonde jumped in surprise

“Marinette is gone. She should’ve never even been. I’m Marigold, the daughter of Poison Ivy.” For a moment, the fog thickened, but Mari shook it off quickly enough, before whatever caused it managed to get the hold of her.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! If you got yourself akumatized, I’m telling my daddy!” Chloe shouted. Seeing the tears form in the iridescent green eyes, she looked at her friend with pity. “Oh, Mari! Is this the Liar again? Come here right now!” The blonde spread her arms for a hug. She didn’t care about the Akuma. Her friend needed her and she would help her conquer the world if she asked. Chloe owed Mari… everything. She helped her evolve beyond being the queen witch. In response to the gesture, the plants in the garden started to grow until they surrounded the two of them in a tight cocoon. Marinette stepped onto the balcony. She affectionately petted the vine that carried her so far before allowing it to return to its hunt for the Liar.

“Chloeee!” Mari launched herself at the girl. She sunk into the embrace, allowing tears to start flowing again. She sobbed her heart out while pushing a piece of paper she constantly held in her clutched fist before. The blonde took it and read while patting Marinette on the back of her head.

“Salauds! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! How dare that cochons! And the chienne! Wait till I tell daddy about this! Don’t worry Mari. I will protect you! I will ruin her! Merde!” The rant made Marigold pause. She never heard Chloe curse. Like… never. “But first. Mari. You know I love you and I would help you hide the body, but drop the Akuma. It’s making you look Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous! I mean the dress is so much spot on and so you, but the whole take over Paris is more my style. I can let you be my faithful sidekick while we take over the world if you want.”

For a moment, Marigold continued to stare at Chloe before she burst out in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t a nervous chuckle or the villain cackle, but genuine pearly laughter. It was just so… Chloe-ish. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to dissuade an Akuma by offering to become a sidekick.

“You… You… Never change Chlo.” Mari smiled at her friend.

“Whoa. You… didn’t make me a fertilizer? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t. You are just too good of a person, but Hawkmoth…”

“I’m not akumatized Chloe.” Mari smiled. “It’s me.” As if to prove her point, she stood up and spun, allowing the blonde to see her from all sides. “This is how I really look. Apparently, I do take some after my mom.”

“Your… mom?”

“Pamela Isley, she was a famous biologist. Mom was brilliant. She used to be one of the smartest people in the world.” Mari praised. “There was this one accident that she is now famous for…”

“Pamela Isley? I remember reading about her.”

“Yeah… She is…”

“Didn’t she create this environment-friendly line of cosmetics?” Chloe asked in her typical fashion

“Yes! I have no idea why everyone remembers her only for the ‘Poison Ivy’ thing!”

“I know, right?” Chloe nodded. “Wait a…”

“Tada!” Mari said weakly before trying to look away, doing everything not to look her friend in the eyes. The blonde gently grabbed her chin and moved it so she could look right into the beautiful green eyes of her best friend.

“Mari! If you think I would abandon you just because your mother took veganism too far… You’re utterly ridiculous!”

Marigold smiled slightly. Slowly, the green receded and her eyes turned back to normal. The dress remained, as without it she would end up naked and she didn’t fancy trying to explain to anyone that.

She then turned to the plants and tried to order them to return to normal, only for them to resist. For a moment, her mind started to feel fogged, but it didn’t hold at all now.

“As much as I like the scenery, maybe we stop the plantpocalypse?”

“Um… Remember how I told you I wasn’t akumatized?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the plants are…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Chloe shouted. “Listen here Hawkmoth! Get this Akuma the heck away! I don’t care about some fancy Jewels that will totally clash with your suit! I mean purple and white with red earrings? Are you colorblind?”

There was no visible reaction to the plants.

“Strange…” Marigold ran her hand over the plants. “They still respond, just refuse to yield.” Inside, Mari cursed that she couldn’t consult Tikki.

“So… Want some cookies?” Chloe asked. “We just have to wait for Ladybug to save the day. At least the damage will be repaired.”

‘Except Ladybug it trapped here…’

Suddenly, something small and black slipped through the vines and entered their small peaceful enclave. It zoomed between items on the balcony, trying to avoid being seen. It would’ve been successful if Chloe didn’t know about Kwamis.

“What was that!?” She shouted pointing at Plagg’s hiding place.

“What? I didn’t see anything!” Mari tried to lie. It was the one skill she never had. She did compensate for it by never getting caught.

“A Kwami! I’m sure I’ve seen one.”

“Kwami? Who’s Kwami? Is that some bird? How would a bird get here? I mean we are trapped in…”

“Ugh! I don’t have time for games!” Plagg suddenly floated before the pair. “Chat is trapped and can’t help without revealing himself. Paris is being destroyed mindlessly and nobody can do anything as the vines are harder than steel.” The cat summarized. “And I’m hungry. Give me cheese!” He looked at Chloe. “Camembert would be the best, but I’m not that picky.”

“Why come to us? Ladybug took away my miraculous.” The blonde asked.

“I didn’t come to you. I came to her.” The god pointed at Mari.

“Me?! Why? It’s not like…”

“We don’t have time for charades guardian! The Akuma is out of control! Literally! Hawkmoth’s connection was somehow severed and now you have a giant plant that knows only the rage. This is serious!”

Mari wanted to protest or try to save some of her identity, but then Tikki floated out of her purse.

“Oh no! Marinette! He is right! We have a huge problem.”

“Why?” The girl asked resigned.

“You’re Ladybug!” Chloe shouted but was subsequently ignored

“Hawkmoth must’ve akumatized the plant, hoping to control you, but he had no idea it was sentient. But it stopped being sentient the moment you let it go. I… It never happened before.”

“You’re Ladybug!!!” Chloe shouted so loud that everyone had to look at her.

“We can talk later. Now we need to somehow deal with the plants. Maybe… No. What about… But they are too tough… What if…” Marigold started to run through various scenarios and plans.

“Can’t you just order them to expel the Akuma?” Plagg asked bored.

“It… It might work.” Mari had a focused expression. In her head, she was running through all her knowledge of biology, miraculous magic, and how her mom’s powers worked. Hesitantly, she walked to the edge of the cocoon and called the main vine to her. The wall spread slightly and allowed the tip of it to enter. Mari touched it and started gently caressing it.

“you’re a good boy. Yeah! Who’s a good boy? You’re. Yes! You’re a good boy. But Good Boys don’t have Akuma. Do you want to be a good boy? Of course, you do…”

Chloe stood there and watched how Marigold kept talking to the plant like it was a puppy. She felt something fall into her hand. Opening the palm, she saw two earrings.

“I… I can’t!” She protested, but Plagg floated before her eyes.

“She can’t do it. If Akuma escapes, we will have plantmagedon on a larger scale.”

“Fine. Spots on!”

Just as Mari finally talked the plant into expelling the Akuma, Chloe caught it.

“Bye Bye Little Butterfly!” She released the pure white bug. “Lucky charm!” Chloe shouted. A red and black folder fell into her hands. She looked at it curiously. Inside, she found a complete set of adoption papers for her father to sign. She quickly pulled out the sheets and tossed the folder itself, releasing a swarm of ladybugs that repaired Paris to how it was before plants. The sheet stayed.

Transformation dropped after that and Chloe handed the jewel back to the true owner.

“You still have sooo much explaining to do!”

Nobody remembered about Adrien and Kagami being carried together to safety, which turned out to be Mari’s basement. And while Ladybug Cure should’ve restored them to where they were taken from, for some unknown reason they remained locked there until Mari returned late into the evening to spend the last night at the bakery. It would be some time until Tikki admitted that it was an act of revenge on Plagg for revealing her chosen’s identity. He had to go the whole day without cheese. The one good thing that came from it was that Kagami and Adrien had a long frank talk and ended up as friends. The relationship just wasn’t working.

----------

When Mari was adopted by the Mayor, she decided to keep using the Dupain-Cheng name at least for now. At first, Chloe’s father was against it, but once the girl presented it as a way of getting good press of mayor who personally looks after his citizens he practically ripped the papers to sign them. Although on paper he was the adopter, Chloe was the real parent/sister that took care of Mari. Lila seethed and spitted, but couldn’t really do much more. Adrien and Chloe roped Jagged Stone and Penny into Marinette Protection Squad. Luka and Kagami, who somehow hooked up, also joined. At some point, Mari entrusted Luka and Kagami with permanent Miraculous and Gave Chloe the Bee miraculous back. Some Fox illusion of Chloe publically applauding new heroine helped hide her identity. The hardest part was revealing to Chat, Viperion, and Ryuko her true identity. Adrien was a big surprise, but at least they finally dealt with their crushes once and for all. The fact that they were in love square in two people was way too awkward. Chloe and Mari did notice Adrien sometimes looking at Luka, but he was happy with Kagami. The only person that disproved of ‘Lukagami’ was Kagami’s mother, but she warmed up to him when he accepted the challenge to a duel and was completely pacified when she learned that Luka is apprenticing under Jagged Stone.

Jagged and Penny wanted to Adopt Mari, but ended up filling the role of uncle and aunt. After some time, Mari realized that she rebuilt what she once had in Gotham. These people might not have been her family by blood, but it mattered little. That family might’ve been damaged, maybe even broken, but they were happy together. They found solace in one another. Once more, Marinette was happy.

Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors.

#maribat #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #Miraculous #Batman #DC #MLB x DC #Mother!Ivy

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twelvedy7 · 3 years

Text

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs).

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe. This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences.

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it.

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions.

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure.

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to.

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives.

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder.

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses.

“Yeah. See you.”

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon.

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard.

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together.

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes.

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed.

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time.

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___

“Takano-san!”

...

“Takano-san!”

Who was it?

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo.

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed.

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow.

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling.

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips.

“Takano-san can you hear me?!”

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions.

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was.

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.”

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows.

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him.

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.”

He felt absolutely miserable.

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life.

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…”

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder.

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch.

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.”

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull.

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”.

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him.

Now Ritsu would need him.

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.”

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted.

#sekaiichihatsukoi #Sekaiichi Hatsukoi #junjou romantica #Ritsu Onodera #Takano Masamune #yokozawa takafumi

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my-soul-sings · 3 years

Text

just my luck: chapter 2

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Taehee x Reader

Summary (placeholder): Having been cursed to live a life filled with misfortunes, moving to a new city to start anew was, as expected, a difficult process. But things start to change after you encounter a mysterious doctor who seems to know you even though you’ve never met him before.

chapter 1

***

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

It was a familiar voice, one that made your heart pound and ache painfully in your chest. And it was the only thing replaying in your head when you woke up, though it began to rapidly ebb away as your eyes opened, receding like a tide as quickly as it had come.

Waking up from what felt like a long, distant dream, the first thing you noticed as you blinked your eyes open was the moisture clinging to your eyelashes. You raised your fingers gingerly to touch your cheeks, staining its tips with tears. Glancing around, you realised you were in a doctor’s office, lying on an examination table. It didn’t take long for everything to come rushing back to your memory as your head throbbed and pulsed in pain.

You remembered coming to the clinic because you had a fever—how could you forget, with this shitty headache and the faint nausea that was rising from the sheer pain—and then the doctor had started acting strange, and then nothing. You must have fainted, and then he probably carried you to the examination table afterwards, but now he was gone.

The office was empty and silent, save for the sounds of your ragged breathing. Staying and waiting for him to come back didn’t sound like a good idea at all. There was no telling what he might do to you and if he pulled anything—you didn’t have the strength to call for help in this state either.

You groaned and clutched your head from the fresh wave of pain that washed over you as you struggled to sit up and push your legs over the edge of the examination table. Gingerly, you stepped down, feet unsteady on the hard flooring beneath you. Black spots covered the edges of your vision, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to will the nausea away. You had no intention of fainting twice in one day. At least, not until you got to another clinic where hopefully the doctors were more normal.

Unfortunately, at that moment you heard the door click open and then you heard footsteps rushing to your side. You felt hands on your shoulders trying to support you, and you didn’t have any strength to try pushing him away. He helped you back to the examination table and pushed you back down into a lying position. Like a rag doll, your limp and weak body made no attempt to resist.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” Dr. Kim chided with a frown.

“How… How long was I… out for?” Damn, it was hard to even speak. Not when you were lightheaded and when you could only manage shallow breaths.

He checked his watch. “About five minutes. I checked your temperature earlier and you’re having a very high fever. It’s 39.2 degrees.”

“Shit.” The curse left your lips before you could stop yourself. All this because of a little rain? Screw you, rain.

“I wanted to wait until you were awake before I continued the check-up,” he continued. “I don’t think you need to go to the hospital since you didn’t hit your head. The main issue is the fever, but if you want to go to the hospital for a check-up to be safe I think that would be a good idea too.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said. “If you say I don’t have to go then I trust you.” You really didn’t. It was just that you’d rather not imagine the hospital bill if you actually made a trip to the A&E or something.

“Alright then, I’ll just do a quick check-up on you now.”

Admittedly, you were worried that he might try something funny. But then the rest of the check-up went by smoothly, and he maintained a completely professional demeanour while doing his job. It was as if everything that you recalled happening before you fainted had been a mere figment of your imagination. There was not a single trace left of the emotional doctor from before. The man in front of you now seemed like a completely different person—dare you say, even normal. If he did have any emotions, they were masked behind a polite smile and a courteous voice as he asked you questions about what you’d been eating, what might have caused the fever, whether there was pain in the areas where he was lightly applying pressure.

Could it have been the fever conjuring up some nonsensical drama in your head? Maybe you had knocked your head earlier and you didn’t even know it.

“I’ll prescribe you with medication for your fever and cough,” he said, returning to his desk to type some things down on his computer.

“Thanks,” you said, sitting up. It didn’t feel as difficult this time, maybe because your head was starting to clear up a little. You just hoped you’d be able to get home in one piece.

“Do you need more time to lie down?” he asked, eyes widening in mild alarm when he turned around and saw you trying to get off the examination table again.

“I’m feeling better now,” you replied, but made no protest when he held you by the arm to help you down. He released you when you looked like you were steadier on your feet, and you took a few steps forward experimentally, to show him that you would be fine.

“Thanks. That’s all, right?”

“Just one more thing,” he added. “I’ll need you to come back in three days so I can check up on you.”

His words took a couple of seconds to register in your muddled head. “What?” Was it normal for a general practitioner to ask you to return for a check-up?

“Is it inconvenient?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, no it’s not. I mean- I live pretty close by so it’s not that inconvenient.” You were beginning to ramble in your confused state. “It’s just- I thought GPs usually don’t ask patients to come back for a second consultation.”

“I suppose it is a bit unusual,” he admitted with a smile. It was difficult not to be charmed by it, or by the way his eyes met yours. His smile was brighter and more genuine than the polite ones he had been offering you for the past couple of minutes, and it looked good on him. “It’s something I ask of my patients sometimes, just to be thorough and make sure that everything’s alright. And the follow-up consultation will be free of charge, so if it’s convenient for you I’d appreciate it if you came by so I can make sure that you’re okay.”

The words “free of charge” did make his offer sound a lot more attractive. This was entirely to your benefit too, there was no compelling reason for you to turn him down. There was still the nagging thought in the back of your mind clinging to the memory of his odd behaviour before you passed out, but you decided to ignore it for now. He didn’t seem bad, and if he really wanted to try something funny he could have done it earlier, but he hadn’t pulled any tricks with you so far, so that had to mean something.

“Alright. Thanks for the offer. So I’ll come back in three days… Should I come at this time?”

“Any time that suits you is fine,” he answered. His smile seemed to have grown bigger, or maybe you were just imagining things.

“Okay then, thanks.” With a curt nod and polite smile, you turned to leave. The friendly smile he gave as he watched you go lingered in your mind as you waited for the receptionist to call on you to give you the medicine he had prescribed.

What a crazy day it had been—and it had only just begun, seeing as it was still technically morning.

The small plastic bag of medicine in your hands rustled as you left the clinic, but just as you took a couple of steps outside, you heard someone call your name from behind.

You winced when your head jerked back sharply, and there you found Dr. Kim jogging towards you. He was no longer wearing his white coat, and now you could see his outfit in full: a navy blue button-up shirt paired with black business pants and a pair of black derbys. His soft black hair bounced lightly with his movements, a little like cotton candy. You couldn’t help but stare at the sight — he was effortlessly handsome, turning heads as he went. It felt strange to feel eyes on you when he approached you with a breathtaking smile.

“Did I leave something behind?” you asked, peering at his hands to see if he had brought whatever it was with him. They were empty, however.

“No, it’s my lunch break now. I thought I would walk you home since you said you lived nearby.”

Alarm bells in your head went off again. Was he trying to follow you home? What if he turned out to be a crazy stalker?

Your apprehension must have shown, because he immediately raised his hands in surrender and his eyes widened in panic. “I know this sounds strange. It’s just— I was worried since you fainted earlier… I’m worried you might faint again on the way home. So I thought I should walk you home in case anything happened.”

...Okay, that sounded fair enough. You had fainted earlier and also insisted on not going to the hospital. Still though, he was going above and beyond. Either he was an exceptionally good person or he was being a creep. Taking the risk didn’t sound worth it.

Choosing your words carefully, you replied in a measured tone, “Thanks for worrying, but I’ll be fine. My place is within walking distance from here. I feel better after lying down so I think I can manage.”

The concern didn’t disappear from his face. Instead, the wrinkles in his forehead only deepened at your response. “Still… just to be safe. If it makes you feel better,” he added with some haste, “let’s just say I’m doing this for my benefit. I don’t want to be accused of medical negligence if anything happens to you on the way home.”

Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but breathe out a chuckle. “I promise I won’t press charges, alright? I made the decision on my own.”

“Can I really trust that?” he retorted, although the kind smile playing on his lips indicated that he wasn’t really taking offense. Not to mention, it was doing an effective job of melting away the tension in your shoulders.

He didn’t seem like a bad person… maybe you could take that risk. Besides, he looked like he might actually cry if you didn’t let him bring you home.

“I’ll leave once I see you to your place. I won’t enter or do anything weird. If it’ll make you feel safer you can turn on the audio recording function in your phone—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted him mid-ramble. “I’ll trust you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, looking genuinely happy to hear that. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “You’re a bit weird but I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

The confusion that showed on his face was almost cute. “I’m… weird?”

“Let’s just walk,” you muttered, mentally kicking yourself for saying that out loud. “How long is your lunch break anyway?”

“An hour,” he replied, walking in step with you. “Is your place very far from here?”

You shook your head, pointing to the building in the distance. “It’s just a five-minute walk.”

“Oh.”

Maybe you heard wrong, but you thought you detected a hint of disappointment in his short response.

“I’ve been working here for a while, but I’ve never seen you before,” he remarked. “I suppose that’s a good thing. It means you’re healthy, right?”

A cynical laugh left your lips at that, which made him stare at you quizzically. “Was I wrong?” he asked.

“I just moved here yesterday,” you told him, omitting the part where you weren’t exactly the healthiest person either. It wasn't that you fell sick easily, it was more like you got injured far more often than the average person. But if your bad luck continued, maybe you’d be seeing this doctor more often than he expected.

“I see.”

You snuck a sideways glance at him, noticing how his eyebrows were pressed together in a thoughtful look. His eyes seemed distant, like his mind was far away. You wondered what he might be thinking about.

The rest of the short walk was filled with him asking you questions and making small talk. It consisted of the usual questions any stranger might ask you: How are you adjusting? Where did you come from? Why did you decide to move here?

It was strange how easily you were able to open up to him, despite the guardedness you felt earlier. It just felt natural somehow, like seeing a friend you hadn’t met in a long time. Easing into the conversation and listening to the sound of his voice was nicer than you expected it to be.

Before long you found yourself at the entrance of your apartment building, and you weren’t sure if the small twist in your heart was disappointment at not being able to ask your share of questions of the doctor. He had asked you questions the entire way here but you hadn’t learned all that much about him, other than that his smile was contagious, his laughter felt like a refreshing summer breeze and that every time he looked at you it made your heart jump in your chest.

“I’ll head in on my own. Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile to your face.

He took a moment to survey the building, his lips pressed into a line. Then his gaze returned to you, the serious expression on his face compelling your eyes to drop to your feet. The intensity in his eyes was a bit too much to handle.

“Before you go, could you add my number to your phone?”

“What?” Your response was immediate, and when you looked at him again he seemed a bit more bashful than before.

“I know this is strange, but in case anything happens, you can call me. You don’t have to give me your number, but I’d feel better knowing that you have mine just in case, especially since you said you don’t know anyone around here.”

You pondered over this, but found no reason to reject him. So with a shrug, you took your phone from your pocket and dialled the number that he gave you into the keypad, before saving the contact as ‘Dr. Kim’.

Maybe he could tell that you didn’t feel comfortable giving him your number. He didn’t take out his phone or wait around after that. He simply gestured for you to go into the building, reminding you to take your medicine and to get some rest.

The walk into the building felt a little more lonely than before, now that you could only hear the sound of your footsteps. You didn’t realise before, but coming here to a new place all on your own had made you feel a twinge of loneliness you didn’t feel back home. It wasn’t like you had many friends in the first place, but at least Seohee was there.

You sighed. This was just the fever talking. You tended to crave company when you were sick, after all. It didn’t change the fact that you were excited to start a new life here. You could pursue your dreams, do what you had wanted to for so long, without anyone holding you back.

Still, just before you disappeared into the lobby, you looked back. There wasn’t a real reason for it, but you did it anyway.

And then you saw him, waiting at the gate, watching with a pensive expression as you went in. When he noticed you had turned around though, his expression melted into a bright smile and he waved.

It cleared away the loneliness you felt in that moment. In its place, a pleasant warmth spread in your chest at the sight, and a smile lifted your lips before you realised it.

When you returned to your apartment, the first thing you did was change the name of his contact.

Dr. Strange.

You grinned, satisfied. It had a nice ring to it.

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge taehee #kim taehee #taehee fanfiction #wannabe challenge fanfic #my writing #just my luck

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 4 years

Text

four seasons with akaashi

wow i think i’m starting to see a pattern of not knowing what i’m writing???

pairing: akaashi x reader

genre: fluff

Spring comes with many firsts: the first year of high school, first cherry blossoms, and first love.

Akaashi is quiet, but not opposed to interaction. You realize this when you join Fukurodani’s volleyball club as the manager and watch in awe as the silent setter dealt with Boktuo in such a calm manner. You momentarily forget that the two of you are the same age. He’s calm, composed, and quick to put a stop to Bokuto’s antics; you’ve even heard him go through the wing spiker’s long list of weaknesses in passing. In short, you think Akaashi is amazing.

In fact, he’s so amazing that you find it hard to get closer to him although the two of you were in the same class. It’s not that you feel that he’s cold toward you, but it’s difficult to strike a conversation up with someone who seemed to dislike the loudness of Bokuto so much. You’d hate to disturb him, especially since he already has his hands full, but you can’t help catching your eyes landing on his figure from time to time.

Sometimes during classes, your eyes wander toward your right where Akaashi sits studiously, writing down careful notes from each and every lecture. You notice the light pen callus on the side of his ring finger and how he miraculously keeps his paper straight on his desk when he’s writing. He’ll never openly volunteer to answer or read, but whenever the teacher calls on him, his answers are correct, and you can’t help but feel soothed by his voice.

When you’re not looking at him, you don’t catch the stray glances that Akaashi also sends toward your way. He doesn’t understand why but opts to justify it with the fact that the two of you had volleyball in common, and that the volleyball jacket you wore frequently stood out specifically from the rest of the uniforms. Sometimes he’ll break into a smile when he sees that your papers end up shifting, tilted at a ridiculous angle when you’re concentrated on writing or when your brows furrow at a particularly tricky problem. He thinks it’s secretly amusing, endearing almost.

“I’ll help,” Akaashi offers quietly one day, reaching toward the basket carrying the bottles that you had just filled. It’s the first thing he has said to you ever, aside from the casual ‘hellos’ and ‘thanks’ he spared whenever you managed to make eye contact with him. It’s so foreign that you think you’ve done something wrong, but the fact that he’s merely a few inches apart from you makes your thoughts stop.

“Sorry if I was being slow,” you murmur finally, a little embarrassed, and hang your head low. Akaashi lets out a rather affronted noise that startles the both of you, and you turn to look at him, confused.

“No, I just thought it looked heavy,” he tries again, seeming to struggle with his words. Rather than following up, he lets the topic drop and takes a water bottle, not noticing Bokuto smiling rather smugly behind him.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N!” the owl-like boy laughs. “That’s just ‘Kaashi trying to be friends with you! He’s been mulling over it for days now! Whenever we’re in the changing rooms, he’s always like, ‘I wonder if Y/N dislikes me. We’re in the same class and club, but we don’t talk often’—“

“Bokuto, please shut up,” Akaashi says pointedly, trying to cover the taller boy’s mouth. He’s uncharacteristically flustered, and if you squinted, you could see the pink rising on his cheeks along with his frustrated furrowed brows. You almost laugh too; even the stoic setter could have his feathers ruffled sometimes, and in full honesty, it was such a refreshing sight to see.

“Actually,” you start shyly, chuckling slightly, “I was under the impression that I was disliked by you. I guess we both misunderstood.”

Akaashi shifts his attention from Bokuto to you, looking rather surprised. He’s sure that greeting you frequently would do well to break the ice, but he can’t believe that he gave you such a cold impression. It wasn’t lost on him that his silence usually came off unwelcoming, but he decides then and there that he should try harder. For what, he doesn’t really know.

“Isn’t that nice, ‘Kaashi? You made a friend!”

And so, Akaashi returns to scolding Bokuto about interrupting conversations and saying too much while, as promised, helping you hand out the bottles. The banter is lively and nice, the most emotion you’ve seen the setter express, and you think that you could get used to the chaos that is the volleyball club.

Spring is when the first seeds of love are planted, waiting to bloom.

ii.

Summer is hot with the buzzing of cicadas and the smell of sweat mixed with freshly-cut grass. It’s a little nauseating.

Hosting training camps were literal hell; in between making sure that there are enough clean towels, extra bottles, and an abundance of food, you find most of your summer dedicated to manager work. It’s torturous under the beating heat of the sun, and it makes you think about leaving the club forever. Of course, you don’t and never would, but the thought’s there.

Bokuto’s practically bouncing off the gym walls during the days leading up to the big event. For days on end, he’s talking about Nekoma-this or Nekoma-that, and by the time the team of stray cats actually arrives, you’re sure that you already know their names. You note that he’s the closest to the one with messy hair and a cackle louder than Bokuto’s yells. It’s overwhelming, especially for Akaashi who has to be there to calm Bokuto down, but also keep his spirits up for three days straight.

“Tired?” you ask during one of the breaks, handing him a bottle filled with chilled water and a plate of sliced watermelon. He accepts it graciously with a simple nod.

“With the way Bokuto keeps playing, we’re bound to be doing more diving drills,” he sighs. You giggle a little at the exasperation in his voice, but you still feel a little bad. Running around with towels was already tiring enough, so you can’t imagine working up a harder sweat under this relentless heat. “Are you busy?”

“Yeah,” you respond, stretching out your arms. “I thought setting up the sleeping area was bad, but cooking for a thousand volleyball players is absolutely the worst.”

He nods sympathetically and slides over on the stair step that he’s been sitting on, a silent invitation for you to take the spot next to him. You’re touched at his kindness and want nothing more than to accept the offer and just talk for hours on end to Akaashi, but you shake your head. There were things that needed to be done, and you’d hate for Yukie and Kaori to be the ones doing your share of the work. Akaashi seems to understand.

It’s a little disappointing to see so little of each other during the day even though the two of you were at the same location for the same reasons. To Akaashi, you’re a nice and fresh breeze that counters the loud arguments between Bokuto, Kuroo, and the delinquent-looking guy from Nekoma; you’re calm and can read him like an open book. With you around, he doesn’t feel the need to struggle over finding the proper words, and even when he does speak, it’s not a scolding. He’s at ease when you’re there with him.

Much to Akaashi’s luck and yours too, nighttime is when things calm down. You find him sitting quietly at the sidelines of the gym, making sure that Bokuto doesn’t break anything out of sheer excitement as he works on blocking with Kuroo. He’s working on his summer assignments, and it’s expected from him, but you’re quite amused at how even after a grueling day’s practice, he still finds it in himself to study. This time, you’re free and take the spot on the floor next to him.

“Mind if I join?” you ask, waving your math assignments around. He’s more than happy to have you there and nods not once, but twice. “Aren’t you tired?”

“If I don’t do a little bit every night, it piles up,” he mumbles, writing numbers neatly into his notebook. “It helps me go to sleep better, too.”

“I’m usually the night-before kind of person,” you laugh, opening up your booklet as well. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve done my summer work early.”

He hums, which is how he reacts when he’s surprised, you’ve learned. The two of you sit in silence, exchanging words once in a while for help. Akaashi’s way ahead of you, but you’re glad that he doesn’t find you too annoying when you ask to compare answers for the first few exercises that you’ve done. The yelling and crooning of Bokuto and Kuroo become white noise; you’re only fully aware of Akaashi right now and the fact that your shoulders are so close to touching. Five centimeters. Maybe six, but nothing more than that.

Even now, after months of getting to know him, you find your eyes glancing at him from time to time. You’re distracted, and you want to beat yourself up for it, but it’s almost instinctive. His side profile and his concentration are mesmerizing, his silence giving him an air of elegance. You’re so tempted to move closer, to fill those few centimeters and come into physical contact with the boy next to you, but you get flustered at the exact thought. The two of you were friends. Setter and manager. Classmates. Nothing more.

Unsurprisingly, your progress is poor, and you’re a little ashamed to say it’s because you were distracted by Akaashi. Even when the training camp is over, you still haven’t managed to make a large dent into your math work, and you’re ten times less motivated to continue it once you’re home and without Akaashi. It’s a blessing that the boy is an angel and is at your door during the last weekend of your well-deserved summer break.

“I was wondering if you needed help,” he says simply with a bag filled with cold drinks and ice cream in hand. He’s an angel. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t-“

“No I do!” you answer quickly, heart beating fast. “I still have three more subjects to do, so I’m in a little trouble.”

Akaashi blinks at your outburst, and then breaks into one of his rare smiles. He lets out a laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh that you’ve never heard before, and you think you’ve finally discovered what angels singing sound like. You’re so mesmerized by Akaashi himself that it doesn’t exactly hit you that you’ve invited him into your room until much, much later, when he’s again, five or six centimeters away from you. Leaning on his elbow, he reaches over to your paper to point out errors or little tips, but they’re just noises to you. Lovely noises, but you don’t register a thing he’s saying. His mouth is moving, and you’re aware that you should be paying attention, but whether it’s this cursed heat or own nervousness that’s making you heat up and your heart throb like crazy, you’re mind is anywhere but on your work.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Akaashi asks, looking toward you.

“No,” you play off cooly, or as cooly as you could. “It’s just a little hot, don’t you think?”

“I have ice cream if you want,” he offers kindly, moving away from you and rustling through his bag. You let out a breath.

Summer is hot, and it’s when you realize that your little interest with the team’s setter is something a lot more than a small crush. It terrifies you.

iii.

Autumn brings in a refreshing chill that replaces summer, and before you know it, the leaves have turned into beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows.

Days have grown shorter, and by the time you leave the school, juggling between manager duties and the cultural festival, the sky outside is practically pitch-black. Walking home alone is a problem, which is why Akaashi takes it upon himself to walk you back home. Him and Bokuto, that is. Akaashi’s aware that he isn’t the scariest or strongest guy around, so he figures that with Bokuto’s large build and even larger voice would provide extra security.

The first time the two walk you home, Bokuto’s talking a mile a minute about how cool his class’s haunted house is coming out and making every effort to invite both you and Akaashi to check it out. Akaashi only comments about how he’ll be busy with his own class, even though you know well that he has free time in the afternoon. You stifle a giggle and nod, encouraging Bokuto to continue and hyping him up out of kindness.

It bothers Akaashi more than he thinks it would, and he almost feels silly for feeling so sour whenever Bokuto had your attention. It’s becoming a more and more frequent thing, he realizes that night. Even during practices, he preferred it when you were talking to just him rather than the other players, and it makes him disgusted with himself for being so selfish. He’s typically not the type of person to tape his fingers, but whenever you walk toward him and offer to help with tape in hand, he never turns you down.

There’s just something about the way your hand radiates a comforting warmth. When your fingers brush against his digits, carefully wrapping the white material around his damaged fingers, he finds it too quick, almost to the point of teasing. There are days where you’ll be so focused on the bandaging that you don’t notice the fondness in his eyes, scanning over your figure and wishing that your fingers would just intertwine with his. Akaashi wants something permanent, something longer than just brief encounters, and he secretly wishes that you’d give him all your attention.

But of course, he can’t say that to you. He find his wishes ugly. You’re Fukorodani’s manager, not his, and it was wrong of him to think otherwise. Still, he can’t help but feel a little bit bothered whenever Bokuto leaned a little too close to you whenever he spoke, shaking your shoulders or patting you on the back out of enthusiasm. Akaashi figures that he wouldn’t be bothered if you weren’t bothered, but it eats away at him when he doesn’t see you rejecting any of Bokuto’s energy.

“Let’s go,” Akaashi says to you one night. You look at him, tilting your head.

“But what about Bokuto?”

“Coach wanted to talk to him,” Akaashi informs before turning toward the door. He makes a motion, so you shrug and follow. The coach part isn’t a lie, but Akaashi leaves out the part about Bokuto nudging him in the ribs and telling him to spend some “quality alone-time” with you, since it’s too embarrassing.

The two of you walk home with you chatting about the day and how busy it is. Akaashi listens to your lovely voice, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing sound there is; it’s a stark contrast to Bokuto’s yelling, and he swears that he could listen to you talk about anything and still be emotionally invested. That being said, he’s not exactly paying that much attention, because as you continue rambling about how making the costumes for your class play is just too difficult, Akaashi becomes increasingly aware of the space between the two of you. Or rather, the lack thereof.

He estimates a few centimeters. Maybe three or four. He’s not sure, but he’s so tempted to reach for the same fingers that had danced around his countless of times during practice. He wants to feel your hand in his, and instinctively, he moves his hand closer to yours. He wonders if you’ve noticed too, if you’re just as aware of him, as he was of you. Maybe then, he’d feel more confident about his feelings.

Akaashi’s no fool. He knows that he’s in too deep when it came to you, but he also knows that those feelings were already there long before autumn started. Even during the summer, he’s curious to know if you noticed how he was sweating bullets when he entered your well-cooled room, or if you saw how often he found himself looking for you during the training camp. He wants to know if he catches your eye in any sort of way, and he needs the reassurance that in some sort of miraculous way, he makes a stronger impression on you than Bokuto does.

Autumn is when the leaves begin to wither and die, much like Akaashi’s self-confidence. He retracts his hand.

iv.

Winter is when the first snow falls.

Akaashi’s still walking you home, much to your pleasure, and although you’re not entirely sure why Bokuto has to stay after to see the coach so often now, you can’t really complain. It’s a little mean, and you do like Bokuto platonically, but you’re grateful for every second alone that you spend with Akaashi. You’re even more delighted when he becomes more involved with your conversations, speaking more and more. It’s like he finally opened up to you, and you’re ecstatic that you’ve become his confidant.

“It’s getting colder and colder, huh?” you say, bracing yourself as a particularly strong gust of wind blows. You grasp at the hood of your jacket to keep it from blowing off, but you’re still freezing nonetheless.

“Should we stop for hot tea?” Akaashi asks, frowning. “The convenience store is just around the corner.”

“Last one there has to treat!” you declare and break into a dash for the store. He follows behind, jogging rather slowly. You knew that in any circumstance, even if given a thirty minute handicap, Akaashi would probably be able to outrun you, so you know that he’s letting you win when he isn’t instantly right past you.

“I guess I’m treating,” he says, walking toward you when you reach the destination, and you roll your eyes. “Not happy?”

“You didn’t have to let me win, you know?” you chuckle as he opens the door for you. “I can well afford two teas instead of one.”

“But I wanted to treat you,” he answers simply. He grabs two bottles of lukewarm tea, his preferred brand and your favorite brand that he has committed to memory.

Even with the tea in your hand, you still find yourself freezing again the moment you step outside the shop. You try to hide it, but your shiver gives you away, and Akaashi is immediately back to frowning.

“We should get you home quickly,” he decides, picking up his pace. Now it’s your turn to frown; it’d only get colder from here, and if that meant rushed walks every night, you’re devastated that your time with Akaashi would be shortened. It’s silly, and you know that you should put your health first, but you wish that there could be another way. You lag a few steps behind him, hoping that he’d notice, and of course, he does.

He takes a peek behind his shoulder, and while still frowning, matches your pace. The two of you walk in the same comfortable silence that you’ve enjoyed for the past months, and you aren’t thinking about anything particular until you feel something warm against your hand that isn’t the tea. You almost stop breathing but choose to keep quiet as Akaashi’s hand maneuvers itself slowly around yours. He’s painfully deliberate about the entire thing, hesitating at each action and stopping every so often as if fighting with himself. Gently, he rests his finger in between yours, and the grip is so loose that you think your hand might slip out. He braces himself for you to fling your hand away, but when you don’t and instead look at him in shock and confusion, he’s out of words for a proper explanation.

“I thought your hands looked cold,” is the best he can manage, because even if you asked him what he thought he was doing, he doesn’t have a good answer. He’s not thinking straight; if he was, he would’ve asked for permission. “Sorry-“

“Yeah, they are,” you answer quietly, looking at the pavement and coming to a full stop. “Thanks.”

When Akaashi feels your fingers wrap around his hand, he almost thanks the weather for being the way it is, so that he can blame his reddening face on the cold. He gives you a light squeeze, which you return along with a smile from ear to ear and a flush just as severe as his. He feels a little dumb now for being jealous over Boktuo.

“Now we can walk slower, right?” you ask, looking shyly toward him, but are dismayed when he shakes his head.

“We still have to get you home, so you won’t catch a cold.” Always ever so responsible. “But I wouldn’t mind giving you a call after.”

“A really long call?”

“Yeah,” is all he says, smiling too. He’s not sure if he can put what love feels like into proper words, but he supposes that it’d be similar to the feeling of your hand wrapped around his, swinging happily as the two of you walk under the light snowfall.

Winter is cold, really cold, but you’ve found the perfect person to keep you warm.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #akaashi suffering #reader insert

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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These People in This Room (Don't Shine Like You) (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Lawrence has just been crowned the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK, and Ellie is right beside her. Just like she’s always been.

a/n: omg HIIIIII! here’s my entry to the fic challenge (will it be my only one? who can say). in a shocking turn of events this is not a drabble asdfghjk but would we have expected anything concise from me? this fic was inspired by Shine and Starstruck, both by Years and Years. they are very diamond chaney songs so pls do give them a little listen for full effect! standard procedure, she/her pronouns bc they’re in drag, u know the drill. this has taken me entirely too long to write but pls enjoy some diamond chaney from the night of the crowning! (pls also collectively pretend they had an actual dancefloor to celebrate on and not just a hotel room bc i had already started writing at the point Ellie posted her BTS. fic is just one big serving of pretend anyway xo)

***

It’s somewhere around midnight, the sun has set on Thursday and Friday has crept in, and Lawrence is sitting in a booth with the dancefloor flashing bright colours in front of her, only just daring to believe that this is her actual life.

There is not a single moment that seems real. Even being one of the top four took her essentially since filming stopped to come to terms with. But hearing her name being read out, hearing the other girls cheer for her and being able to do nothing but stare at the screen in disbelief with her hands over her mouth and sob like a baby…that’s not sunk in yet. Maybe it never will. She’s still feeling the after-effects from the way the shock and euphoria had kicked seven shades of shit out of her pulse, the way the serotonin had crashed over her like a wave and the absolute unbridled lack of control she’d had over any of her emotions.

When the cameras had been cut off and they’d been given the all-clear from the producers that they could hug each other, Lawrence had only managed to stand up from the chair, still in floods of tears as Bimini bundled their arms around her, Tayce had jostled them all with the way she’d jumped up and down and yelled in delight, and Ellie had looped her arms around her neck and murmured into her shoulder, words Lawrence couldn’t hear but felt the love from regardless.

It had to be Ellie, really, that crowned her. It was a full-circle moment. She still remembers the night they met for the first time; Dundee in 2016, some time in the early hours of the morning (she’d probably called it ‘bastard o’clock’ or something similar), coming out of the bar and being stopped by a boy in half-drag similar ages with her who spoke rapidly and excitedly and told her that he’d messaged her about starting drag and she’d replied to him. The way realisation had dawned on her and the way she’d been her usual loud and boisterous self to cover up the fact she’d actually been quite bashful about the fact they were meeting for the first time.

There was no alternative, not least because of everything they’ve been through together; the years leading up to this moment and the rollercoaster it’s all been. She’s glad that they’re on a high because they’ve seen each other at their lows (been the cause of each others’ too, sometimes) and pulled through only slightly scathed, but always stronger. The producer had asked Lawrence who she’d wanted and when she, still speechless, had pointed in Ellie’s direction, seeing the tears start to stream down her face had only made Lawrence’s start all over again. They’d hugged- just the two of them this time- and the way Ellie had immediately felt like a safe place in the crazy chaos of reality reminded Lawrence so much of when they had filmed. The way even just hearing Ellie’s voice would stop her feeling homesick, the way she was a living comfort blanket.

She’d never tell that to Ellie, of course, because she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

It’s been a couple of hours and Lawrence is expecting everything to suddenly sink in any minute now. Something will click like the last piece of a puzzle and she’ll finally accept that she’s won, that the whole thing isn’t a giant and premature April fools’ prank. She turns her phone over in her hand, wondering what all this nervous energy is doing to her body chemistry. She’s got messages from her family, her friends, Kiko, the girls she works with back home. Well…some of them. But apart from reading them and frantically replying, Lawrence hasn’t checked anything else; hasn’t opened Twitter or Instagram, where the notifications are piling up like pizza leaflets through a letterbox and are equally as unwanted. If she thinks about them she can feel her stomach twist, wrung out like a wet towel.

Forty thousand likes. The Team Bimini tweet had forty thousand likes. What did her own get? Eight thousand? Lawrence thinks about the sheer scale of forty thousand people, compares it to the population of towns in Scotland. Almost Airdrie. Just under Coatbridge. She imagines a whole town of people, angry and furious and disappointed, and all of them tweeting her to let her know exactly that. She remembers in high school when she thought the whole of Hermitage was against her. She wants to tell baby Lawrence that that was fucking small fry. A thousand kids? Try the sheer scale of Bimini’s fanbase. Her breath is shaky when she tries to breathe in, like her lungs have reduced in size. It reminds her of that time in school camp when they all had to jump from a pier for some unknown-fucking-reason, how freezing the water had been and how her chest felt tight as she gasped for air. Lawrence supposes it was character building in the sense that it prepared her exactly for how anxiety would make her feel later in life.

In for four. Hold for five. Out for six.

“There she is!”

An ever so slightly slurred and wobbly voice breaks Lawrence’s reverie, and when she looks up she sees Ellie approaching her, a little unsteady even in the flats she’s changed into with a glass of prosecco in each hand. It says a lot that even at the top of a helter-skelter of an anxiety spiral, Lawrence’s heart still gives a little swell when she sees her friend. Ellie has always been able to make her feel better. She feels an almost silly sense of relief that she’s here.

Lawrence takes one last little breath in before plastering a small smile to her face. “Awrite? Where’s Mumma Diamond?”

“In her room conked out. Just got back from putting her to bed, she couldn’t hack it. Letting down the family name, that one,” Ellie huffs, sliding into the booth and squashing up right beside Lawrence, even though there’s enough space for two metres distance even if they had still been under strict instructions from the BBC.

“Tayce?” Lawrence asks, gratefully accepting the prosecco glass and hurriedly downing a too-big gulp in an attempt to calm herself down.

“Facetiming A’whora. Of course.”

“Of course. Maybe a bottle and a half of prosecco is gonny be the love potion she never knew she needed.”

“Fuck, we can only hope,” Ellie grins, already laughing through her words. “If we’re gonna be touring with them I don’t wanna have to karate chop through five layers of sexual tension every time I have to walk past them.”

Lawrence chuckles, tired but humoured and unable to not make the so-obvious joke. “You couldny fight sleep.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll fight you in a minute!” Ellie nudges her with her shoulder and spills both of their prosecco from the glasses in their hands. The gesture is affectionate and out of place with the impending threat. “Where’s Bims? Thought they were with you.”

Lawrence shrugs. “Went out for a smoke with one of the runners about twenty minutes ago and never returned.”

“Good for them. Always thought there’s something inherently sexy about a winch in a back alley.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Eh, so would you!” Ellie cries, nothing short of incredulously offended. Her expression makes her look even more like a cartoon character than usual, and it’s entirely too endearing.

“Yeah, forgot that popular phrase. It takes two to winch in a back alley,” Lawrence jokes, but her heart isn’t in it. It’s too heavy and her ribcage feels like someone laced her into a corset and pulled it too tight. She’s hoping Ellie is too drunk to notice.

Ellie sips her prosecco with her eyes on her, then scrutinises her as she swallows it. She frowns, her nose wrinkling up as she prods Lawrence with an acrylic-nail finger. “What’s up?”

Fuck.

“The sky,” Lawrence says without conviction, and the raised eyebrow Ellie gives her in return is enough to unlock her. She deflates like a balloon and brings her phone up so Ellie can see it, turning it over in her hands. “Just…as happy as I am, and as much as this is all a dream come true…I keep psyching myself up to open any social media, and I can’t, because this one fucking brain cell of anxiety keeps telling me that everyone out there hates me and hates the fact I’ve won.”

Ellie’s face falls into a frown. She gently pries the phone out of her hands and places it on the table, takes one of Lawrence’s free hands in hers and rubs her thumb over her knuckles. “But all your other brain cells know that’s wrong.”

Lawrence sighs. “So why’s that one louder than all the rest?”

Ellie presses her lips together in a badly-suppressed smile. She’s giggling as she speaks. “Because you’ve only got two brain cells.”

Lawrence splutters a laugh, shoving Ellie with her free hand. The other is still laced together with hers. As the laughter dies down and the momentary serotonin wears off, Lawrence can feel her brow furrowing involuntarily. “Forty thousand people wanted Bimini to win, Ellie. Forty thousand. You know that’s like a whole town? That’s like the population of Coatbridge?”

“ Fuck Coatbridge!” Ellie exclaims, affronted, and her shock and insistence makes Lawrence snort all over again. “Okay, forty thousand people is a town but really, what’s that to the rest of the world? Think how tiny that is in the grand scheme of things, Lawrence! Honestly, give a fuck about what any bastard who wants to send you anything vile thinks of you! You’re so amazing! You won! Fuck everyone else!”

Lawrence wants to feel cheered up. The prosecco Ellie’s drunk is making her all the more animated and lively, giving her words a determination and a passion that her speech so rarely possesses most of the time. Ellie is calm, and she doesn’t get wound up easily. There’s something about the fact she’s growing this animated over getting Lawrence to believe in herself that warms her heart a little.

Then again…

“It’s not just that, though. There’s girls from home that haven’t even said well done. Girls I’ve always supported and couldn’t do enough for, and it’s like…really? You can’t be happy for me when I’ve actually managed to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for years?”

“Well maybe they have said well done, and you’ve just not seen it because you’ve been hiding,” Ellie gestures matter-of-factly at her phone. It doesn’t convince her.

“They won’t have. You’ll know who I’m talking about, Ellie.”

Ellie sighs a little, clearly conceding that Lawrence is right. Her grip on her hand tightens a little, and when Lawrence looks up at her in response her blue eyes hold a glint of assurance.

“Well, even if they haven’t…fuck ‘em. Onwards and upwards, chick. You’ve got ten new sisters out of this who’re always going to know what it’s like, they’re gonna be here for you no matter what,” Ellie says comfortingly. Lawrence knows why she’s said ten and not eleven, but Ellie affirms this with another squeeze and a slightly shy smile. “And you’ve always got me. You’ve always had me.”

This is true. She’s always had Ellie. Before the show, doing gigs with her and hanging out with her and going to DragCon with her. On the show, always there to reassure her or pull her out of a negative spiral or just lean against her shoulder and squeeze her hand. And after the show. Whatever that might look like. Whatever that might be.

She supposes that neither of them know yet.

“C’mon,” Ellie says decisively, holding out a hand for her as the song changes. It’s some sort of Paolo Nutini dirge, and Lawrence has to laugh at how obviously whoever is in charge of the music has rushed to attempt to find something Scottish. Lawrence can only blink at Ellie’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on! ” Ellie laughs. Lawrence doesn’t know if she’s blushing or if it’s just the lights.

But she does know that she can’t leave Ellie hanging when she’s looking at her like that.

So Lawrence lets herself be dragged out to the dancefloor and pulled into a hug as Ellie sways them left to right ever-so-slightly out of time with the song, tipsy and full of affection given the way her arms are locked around Lawrence’s waist. It should feel stranger than it does. In reality, being held by Ellie feels as simple as just existing.

Or perhaps simpler than that, given the fact that Lawrence’s existence feels entirely surreal right now.

“You have to be in drag for half past se-ven,” Ellie sing-songs, bringing one of her arms out from around Lawrence’s waist and tapping her on the nose. Lawrence immediately misses it, so it’s a relief that it’s not gone for long.

“Because I wo-on,” Lawrence imitates back to her, and the way Ellie squeezes her waist in response and affirmation causes a smile and a blush to bloom on her face without her even being to control it. She rests her head against Ellie’s chest so she can’t have the satisfaction (ammunition) of seeing how she makes her feel.

It’s little moments like that that she needs right now. Anchors to keep her down on earth, to let her know that this isn’t just some really prolonged lucid dream and it’s all actually happening because currently reality is so absurdly ridiculous; she’s just won Drag Race and she’s slow-dancing with Ellie to the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the background, a parody of some American high school prom where she’s just been crowned the queen.

Moments like these- where Ellie’s holding her close as if she’s literally trying to protect her from the world- remind her that not everybody is against her. Not everybody hates her. Not everybody is wishing her a slow and painful death because Bimini didn’t win, least of all them. She knows that Ellie was never able to share what team she was on even though she hadn’t had a chance at the crown, but she didn’t have to. Not really. They’ve always been on each others’ team.

Ellie jolts Lawrence out of her daydream with the way her chest is shuddering, and Lawrence momentarily thinks she’s crying again before her soft giggle becomes audible over the music.

“What?” Lawrence tilts her head up, meeting Ellie’s scheming, smirking face.

“Can’t believe RuPaul Charles asked if you wanted to move to London, city of dreams, city of a thousand opportunities…” Ellie begins, Lawrence already laughing as she knows what the conclusion to her sentence will be. “…and you said, ‘yer awrite pal, am fine in Glesga wi the jakes an’ the Blue Lagoon chippy an’ the guy that stands on Buchanan Street and yells at everyone that they’re going to hell!’ ”

Lawrence would normally roll her eyes at Ellie’s impersonation of her accent, but she’s laughing too much at the joke that’s forming in her head to commit to it. “RuPaul asked if I wanted to move to London, and I said…”

The pair of them are almost giggling too much to get the punchline out, Ellie clocking on to how it’s going to end. In sync, the pair of them splutter out a “… NNNNAAW! ”

Giddy and happy, Lawrence rests her cheek against Ellie’s chest again. “London’s got junkies too, anyway.”

“This is gonna sound really selfish, but…don’t actually move to London,” Ellie’s voice murmurs from above her, and there’s something plaintive to it that makes Lawrence refrain from replying with a joke or a barb like she normally would. The way Ellie follows it up cements that fact. “It would probably be so good for you, but like…Glasgow would be lost without you, genuinely. And so would I.”

Lawrence can’t cry again tonight, even if it’s only because she thinks it’s physically impossible, so she just squeezes Ellie tight until she worries about her ability to breathe. “I’m not going anywhere, hen.”

Lawrence doesn’t even really know what they are, her and Ellie. They both still have Grindr and they talk about their hookups and raised hopes and broken hearts with each other like friends. But they’re not really just that. They’re affectionate, and they open up to each other with the same shared unspoken understanding of something Lawrence doesn’t understand. They hug for too long and cuddle up to each other when they’re together, and Lawrence can’t count the amount of times during filming that she’d find strength in the way Ellie would squeeze her hand without a word. They’ve woken up together too many times (why she’d felt the need to remind Ellie of that while the cameras were rolling, she’ll never know) and kissed each other more than that. Every time they say I love you they mean it, but they also mean a little bit more. There’s no butterflies or fast pulses or fluttering hearts- they’re past that stage. Everything is just natural and normal and easy.

She wonders if they’ll ever put a label on what they have. There’s a part of her that doesn’t ever want to.

“If we’re both still single by the time we’re forty,” Lawrence begins, leaning back to look at Ellie through her glazed, half-drunk half-tired eyes. “…we should just say ‘fuck it’ and get married.”

(She doesn’t even know if it’s a joke or not.)

Ellie laughs as if it is and nods as if it isn’t. “Drag wedding. We’d need to upstage Tayce and A’whora, though.”

Lawrence realises something. “I’ll turn forty two years before you.”

There’s a pause as the song starts to fade out, and it makes Ellie’s murmur seem louder than it is. “That’s okay. We don’t need to wait for me.”

The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart and the way Ellie’s talking as if it’s an actual plan makes her think maybe it wasn’t really ever a joke after all. It’s ridiculous though, and it’s all theoretical, and it’s a totally hypothetical scenario, and they’re both drunk , for Christ’s sake. So Lawrence pulls out of Ellie’s arms and takes her hands in her own, the song that’s started playing more upbeat and the opening chords inciting some sort of hope and optimism in her heart for the future that’s unfolding for the pair of them.

“One more song then bed?” she suggests. Ellie raises her eyebrows as she looks down at her.

“Whose bed?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dirty Diamond,” Lawrence shoots back without missing a beat, and as the first lines of the song fill the room she leans back and begins to spin the pair of them in a circle, both of them laughing as if everything is as simple as just that room, and the music blaring out from the speakers, and the lights flashing above them drenching them in purple and pink.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #fic challenge #rare pair #uk2 #canon compliant #fluff #ortega #these people in this room (don’t shine like you)

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melissart · 3 years

Text

Say One Thing, Mean Another (Kaidou Shun/Saiki Kusuo)

Summary:

Reading thoughts and reading feelings were two completely different abilities. Most people had a monologue always running in their heads, conveniently narrating their every experience. Call it spotlight effect, call it middle school syndrome, call it romanticization—whatever you called it, Saiki would know, because he could simply read your mind. But some desires were so unconscious that even Saiki couldn’t read them.

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999770

Read below

No one was more repressed than the self-deluded cram school mama’s boy: Kaidou Shun. Kaidou thought “first base” was holding hands, and even that thought reduced him into a blushing, stuttering, face-hiding mess. He couldn’t even access objective reality half the time, much less access his deepest feelings. Saiki couldn’t even imagine how Kaidou might handle such overwhelming emotions, given how easily at the slightest of confrontations. He once saw Kaidou cry at a convenience store because he couldn’t decide between two compelling brands of instant noodles (Best around or best in town? Around? In town? Around? In town? Aroundintownaroundintownaroundintown...) Needless to say, Kaidou was the most likely candidate to be hiding a dark secret.

None of that Dark Reunion fantasy bullshit. Saiki meant a real dark secret, the kind of revelation that could make a mute man gasp. Just because Kaidou cried when someone tried to tell him a “yo mama” joke doesn’t mean he can’t hide his feelings when it mattered the most. Growing up with a strict mother ruined his values for honesty. Kaidou’s lying was almost on a pathological level, with boundless creativity that showed in the character sheet journals hidden under his bed. He was sometimes so good he fooled himself, but glimmers of the truth shone through in unexpected moments.

It started with a fit of laughter in their lunchtime group. Nendou swore he could handle chopsticks up his nose with enough dexterity to pick up a cherry tomato. Admittedly, he almost succeeded, but Aren flinched away in disgust because he didn’t want to have his lunch contaminated by Nendou’s nose-chopsticks, and the sudden movement accidentally led to Aren’s elbow shoving one of Nendou’s nose-chopsticks too far up, which then caused a ridiculous-looking nosebleed down the chopsticks and into Nendou’s rice.

Saiki’s first thought was ew, but then he caught a quick glance from Kaidou while he was bursting into tears laughing, and suddenly, he couldn’t stop himself from exercising the stiff muscles around his lips into a smile. Kaidou was checking if Saiki thought it was funny, too, as if he needed permission to continue laughing. Saiki didn’t care about pride and certainly didn’t prescribe to any notions of toxic masculinity, but the thought of being the alpha male with Kaidou gave him a good feeling. A feeling that just felt… good.

Saiki still couldn’t read feelings well, not even his own, but he had a strong sense for logic. Kaidou was smaller, weaker, with a kind of reckless yet innocent boyish charm that made him hard to look away from at times. Anyone’s instincts would tell them that Kaidou must be protected at all costs and Saiki, with all of his godlike abilities, was obviously the most qualified person to protect him.

Again, Saiki was bad with unconscious desires. He found himself following that instinct to protect Kaidou in the smallest of moments. Although Saiki protected all of his friends (and humanity) from danger, even Nendou started noticing Saiki’s special treatment of Kaidou.

“Th-Th-The hellfire th-that the Dark Reunion has c-c-cursed me with a-a-always keeps me w-warm,” Kaidou bluffed, on an especially frigid winter day.

What he meant was that the puffy pink jacket his mom tried to send him to school with was too embarrassing, so he lied and told her the weather was supposed to be warmer later. Honestly, Saiki didn’t even need his clairvoyance to predict that. He immediately shoved the extra coat he brought to school at Kaidou. Kaidou got sick too easily, especially with the long nights he spent studying and the longer nights he spent writing fanfictions. Saiki even pre-heated the coat with his pyrokinesis.

“E-Eh? That’s for me, Saiki?” In hindsight, Kaidou was a little too eager to accept Saiki’s coat and he must have definitely sniffed it to see if Saiki’s scent was on it while he thought nobody was looking. “Ah, it’s so warm!” All talk of the Dark Reunion was dropped. Kaidou beamed at Saiki brightly. “Thank you, Saiki!”

The pure look of elation in Kaidou’s crimson eyes as he smiled at Saiki, just Saiki, specifically Saiki, gave him that good feeling again.

Nendou glanced between the two. “You brought that extra coat just for him?”

“That’s just because—” Aren started, but then stopped. “Huh. Nendou’s right. That is very considerate of you, Saiki.”

Saiki didn’t usually slip up and cause himself unnecessary attention, but he brushed it off and convinced himself he was only acting in self-interest. Seriously, it would be a pain if he had to put up with Kaidou calling him in the middle of the night to complain about his symptoms. Kaidou always called him at odd hours of the night, usually to spew some cryptic warnings about lurking enemies, and every time, Saiki delayed his sweet REM cycle just to placate him. It made no sense to call a mute man. (But it made even less sense that Saiki always picked up.)

“Saiki is always reliable,” Kaidou argued. “That’s why, when the Dark Reunion strikes back—”

Then, Kaidou proceeded to plagiarize the plot of the Star Wars episode “The Empire Strikes Back”. Saiki was too busy watching the self-insert adventure inside Kaidou’s mind to question the extent of his admiration of Saiki. Out of everyone, Kaidou’s thoughts were the most interesting to read. Kaidou’s imagination came in full technicolor, with exciting camera angles and cinematography professional enough to be entered in film festivals. When there was nothing good on TV, Saiki sometimes tuned into Kaidou’s thoughts for entertainment. Kaidou managed to distract everyone else from Saiki’s strange favor, too.

Saiki should have realized earlier how powerful Kaidou’s redirection was, effective enough to rival Chouno’s magic tricks. Kaidou was easy to underestimate, but the sheer amount of lies he told on a daily basis was proof of his true manipulative nature.

No, “manipulative” was overshooting it. Kaidou was just conditioned by his social anxiety to lie in everyday situations to preserve his self-image. Saiki knew that struggle better than anyone else, just in the opposite direction: dedicating his life to feigning normalcy. Yet, even though Saiki was the one who regularly erased memories, time traveled, and rewrote reality to maintain the status quo, Kaidou was still the one who went overboard in comparison.

Saiki and Kaidou were walking home together one day, just the two of them, because Aren usually took another way home and Nendou had baseball practice. Kaidou was filling Saiki in about the latest addition to the Dark Reunion saga, complete with a mini movie in his mind to accompany his narration: Kaidou had tamed a wild beast that was terrorizing a small village, which later warmed up enough to become his consort, but the beast had been mind-controlled by the Dark Reunion the entire time as a spy to figure out Kaidou’s whereabouts, which then led to Kaidou breaking the beast free from its mind control using his own forbidden knowledge of the dark arts and returning the beast into the wild.

In reality, the “beast” was a chihuahua that was bothering a kid, but then started following Kaidou home. Kaidou wanted to keep the chihuahua, but his mother said no, because the chihuahua probably belonged to someone else, even though it had no collar. He had to kick the chihuahua out of his house in hopes that the small dog would eventually find its way home. Saiki was sure the entire mind control fabrication was some type of coping mechanism to help Kaidou feel less guilty about kicking the dog out onto the cold streets.

Then, Kaidou’s knuckles accidentally brushed against Saiki’s and Kaidou’s internal alarm rang loudly in both of their minds:

Wrong! Bad! Stupid! Just ignore it, just ignore it, just ignore it!

Kaidou was screaming so loudly in his mind that Saiki instinctively covered his ears, even though there was no external sound to cover his ears from. All of Kaidou’s thoughts had instantaneously spiralled into a frenzy of self-loathing, overwhelming to the point that Saiki couldn’t even decipher what exactly Kaidou was ashamed of. The situation caught him so off-guard that he ended up doing what any normal non-psychic person would do—he asked Kaidou what was wrong. With telepathy, of course. It was easy to get away with using telepathy for conversation since Kaidou was too ashamed to look at Saiki at that moment.

“N-Nothing’s wrong!” Kaidou’s blushing face said otherwise and he knew it. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. “No… I can’t lie to you any longer, Saiki. You deserve better than that. The truth is—”

And then Kaidou told another lie, this time centering around a growing imbalance between light and dark forces of the universe that, according to an ancient prophecy, only Kaidou could heal with the great power sealed away in his right hand that he still had yet to fully control. He went into full detail about the brutal training he endured, the battles of wit against his enemies, the secrets he had to keep from his loved ones to protect them from evil—all of which ironically described Saiki’s life more than Kaidou’s—and how lonely it was carrying such burdens, as heavy as the world on Atlas’ shoulders. The vivid montage played in Kaidou’s mind, returning his mental space to its usual deluded state. As usual, Kaidou went overboard with preserving his self-image.

Good grief…

Saiki kept walking and Kaidou had to run to catch up and everything was back to its usual rhythm, with Kaidou’s behavior matching his thoughts again. That was another weakness of Saiki’s. He was so insistent on keeping his boring life boring that he overlooked something important.

Kaidou never actually admitted what was bothering him.

Daniel Kahneman said, “When faced with a difficult question, we often answer an easier one instead, usually without noticing the substitution.” Saiki asked Kaidou, “What’s wrong?” but accepted the answer to “What’s your made-up hero’s burden?” without noticing the substitution. Saiki wanted to protect Kaidou, but he couldn’t cross any boundaries. What if Kaidou was put off by Saiki’s insistence and gossiped about how pushy Saiki was? What if Kaidou took it the wrong way and it caused a falling out between them? What if Kaidou just started crying and all the passersby assumed Saiki had just said something awful to his own friend? There were too many risks. If Kaidou refused to think about what was bothering him, then Saiki just wouldn’t know.

It was better that way. Kaidou had a right to his privacy, which was limited enough by Saiki’s mind reading. Saiki didn’t have a right to any of it—Kaido’s thoughts, Kaido’s secrets, and especially Kaido’s friendship. He was sure Kaido would’ve been better off without a killjoy mute friend that constantly invaded the personal thoughts of everyone around him. The less they knew about each other’s lives, the easier life would be. It was a simple formula that guaranteed success.

If only life were actually that simple. The only law Saiki’s universe followed was Murphy’s Law.

Kaidou’s screaming thoughts started coming more frequently and it was always Saiki that set it off. When their eyes met from across the cafeteria, when they were the last ones awake during a late night group study session, when they reached for the same cafeteria item at the same time—screaming. Kaidou was getting better at not letting it show on the outside, but that only made the self-loathing episodes louder and longer. And still, even with psychic powers, Saiki had no idea why exactly Kaidou was in so much anguish when he was near. All he knew was that it was getting worse.

Saiki was a psychic, not a psychologist. He had to use his logic for situations like this. Kaidou felt awful around him and Saiki didn’t want Kaidou to feel awful, so obviously Saiki just had to avoid Kaidou to resolve the issue.

So, he did. He didn’t want to. He wanted to share an umbrella with Kaidou when he left his at home on purpose to avoid being made fun of for using his mom’s frilly, pinky parasol with roses, he wanted to answer Kaidou’s phone calls at 2 AM to comfort him after his recurring nightmare of drowning in the ocean, he wanted to proofread Kaidou’s fanfiction for any grammar or plot holes, he wanted to part the clouds and let the golden sunshine follow Kaidou’s every step so he never had to complain about gloomy days, he wanted to be there for Kaidou—of course he did! He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care to know why, because he just did and couldn’t because the most important thing he had to do was to protect Kaidou. He would gladly transfer schools to Siberia if it meant Kaidou could be happy and that’s all that mattered.

Of course, things never went Saiki’s way for too long. Kaidou came ringing at his front gate not too long after Saiki started avoiding him. Mikoto would say it’s all a balancing act, making up for Saiki’s intervention by having it all come back to bite him in the butt—strangely reminiscent of what Kaidou previously mentioned about the imbalance of light and dark. It made Saiki wonder if there had always been grains of truth in the lies.

He let Kaidou in and led him to his room. Even now, he could hear the tumultuous chaos in Kaidou’s mind.

I shouldn’t be here! This is stupid! I’m so awful!

Saiki internally sighed. Why are you here, then? Good grief.

Saiki sat on his bed and waited for Kaidou to conjure up whatever nonsense he thought could justify his visit. He was already used to people’s actions not aligning with their thoughts. This was no different.

I should tell him, already.

Instead, Kaidou became fixated on the first distraction that caught his eyes. “Geez! It’s so dark in here, Saiki! You’ll get vitamin D deficiency if you just spend all day in the dark, you know.” He opened the blinds.

I need to stop stalling and tell him, already.

Opening the blinds ended up spreading dust everywhere. Kaidou sneezed. “When was the last time you cleaned, Saiki? It’s so dusty!”

Why am I stalling even more! I really need to get it over with and tell him that… Or maybe it’s better not to tell him?

The suspense was killing Saiki. He knew he wasn’t entitled to Kaidou’s thoughts, but he was so used to knowing everything about everyone that he couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. Why couldn’t Kaidou trust the safety of his own mind to directly think about what he wanted to say? It made no sense! Nothing made sense, anymore! Good grief, tell me WHAT?

“What?”

Oops. Saiki accidentally sent that thought telepathically in frustration.

Tell me what your day was like, I mean.

“Oh. Um…” Kaidou sat down next to Saiki. But not too close. “Nothing really happened, actually.”

That’s a first.

“Can I tell you a story, though?”

Saiki hoped it wasn’t another plagiarized episode of Star Wars. Go ahead.

“So, I have this friend, with a problem…”

Saiki wondered why Kaidou wouldn’t refer to the friend by name, given they had the exact same circle of friends, but Kaidou was too busy admiring the particles of dust glimmering in the rectangles of sunlight filtering through the blinds. He compared the dust particles to the yellow glow of fireflies dancing in a forest, then to the twinkling stars against violet-blue cosmos, then to the grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. He thought of the various colored pieces that made up the image in stained glass windows and the tiny paint dots in Impressionist paintings and the fact that everything was just a collection of the same subatomic particles under a powerful enough microscope. He felt small. Too small to say what he means.

“... This friend is scared all the time. Maybe he’s just used to being scared because his mom always yells at him for the slightest of mistakes and has high expectations he can never reach. He doesn’t know, and neither do I, but that fear keeps leaking into everything he does. Like an inky black stain, blotting out everything until there’s nothing left. There’s just—so much ink.”

Kaidou’s fists are clenched at his sides. Saiki knew this story about Kaidou’s friend must pain him to tell, but still, Kaidou’s thoughts betrayed nothing. Kaidou was thinking of how much warmer the room was with the sunlight pouring in. He thought of temperature like mercury, pouring into the room through a crack in the window, silvery-white liquid with shiny ripples that poisoned everything in contact, suffocating them in metallic vapors.

“But, when this friend is around a certain friend, he feels like everything is bright again. It’s such a precarious feeling though, because getting closer to that brightness also puts the ink closer. It makes him think that him and the ink are the same and that anything good he touches will only get stained.”

Kaidou blinked away wetness on his lashes. He briefly acknowledged the dull ache of his heart wrenching, but only as a passing thought as he reminisced at the last time he was alone with Saiki in his room, which was after a festival, then went on to recall the fireworks. Crimson bursts of chrysanthemums popped into the night sky, golden sparkles crackling below, then streams of white and orange whistled. The smell of gunpowder and sulfur mixed in with the aroma of fried food from the concessions.

He remembered how loud the fireworks were, deep booms that resonated into his chest, louder than the pounding of his heart as he stole a glance at Saiki. He loved watching the different colors of light flash onto Saiki’s expression, a rare look of serenity, but the moment was too brief. Saiki could always tell when he was being looked at, even from far away, almost as if he were actually psychic, and every time, Saiki would look him right in the eyes and smile like he knew exactly what Kaidou was thinking, then purposefully look away again so Kaidou could resume staring in peace. That was the beautiful brightness Kaidou was enchanted by.

Saiki was used to seeing a glamorized distortion of himself in the mind’s eye of people who had a crush on him, complete with shoujo sparkles and iridescent bubbles and blooming roses in the background, but Kaidou’s perspective was unfiltered. Kaidou saw Saiki exactly the way he existed in his life and that was already enough to make his heart skip a beat, no romanticized fantasies needed.

“My friend’s problem is that he’s selfish. He wants to be with that precious friend, who makes everything fade to white. He wants to ruin everything, just for those few milliseconds of happiness. I guess, what I want to say is…”

Kaidou’s thoughts suddenly went silent. Saiki wondered if he had lost his powers, somehow. The usual background noise of every thought within a 200 meter radius was hushed, as if he had just slipped on his geranium ring. All he could hear was the rustle of fabric bunching up in Kaidou’s fists and his own pounding heart.

“What I mean is—do you think it’s worth it? Should he ruin that friendship?”

Saiki understood everything, now.

Is he scared?

“Always.”

Then, I don’t think he should.

“You’re right...”

Saiki’s hand brushed against Kaidou’s, except this time, it was on purpose. He clasped his hand over Kaidou’s.

I’ll ruin it for him.

Saiki brushed a tear away from Kaidou’s cheek. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly. He usually avoided prolonged eye contact at all times so he could get away with telepathic conversation, but Kaidou had always been hard to look away from. That was a cute expression he had on his face, right now—warmed by a blush, with those shining red eyes peering up at Saiki under his long lashes.

Saiki met his lips with Kaidou’s, fingers interlaced. It was just a gentle first kiss—sweeter than coffee jelly, warmer than pyrokinesis, softer than Saiki’s bed. Kaidou melted into the kiss and could only think of how the milliseconds passed like centuries, like he was an immortal witnessing several lifetimes of glory. Their friendship was ruined, but their romance had only started.

They eventually had to part, for air. Saiki looked straight into Kaidou’s gaze. He couldn’t get out of using his real voice, but he didn’t mind.

“What I mean is... I like you.”

Of course, Kaidou broke into a sobbing mess right then and there. It didn’t take a psychic to predict that.

“I like you too, Saiki!”

#saiki no psi nan #kaidou shun #saiki kusuo #kaidou x saiki #saiki x kaidouu #wtf is their ship name #kaidou shun/saiki kusuo #fanfiction #cross-posted on ao3

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azure7539arts · 4 years

Photo

Beacon

Pairing: Q/James Bond (00Q)

Prompt(s): Blaze + Reverse a common trope

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, possession, idiots

Summary: One day, perhaps people will forget that a Flame Alchemist has ever existed, but the same can never be said of his subordinates. And today is not that day anyway.

Or: 00Q but Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood AU

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble… And here we are. Again. If you find this intro familiar, thanks for reading Sword! If you have no idea what Sword is and just know my penchant for biting off more than I can chew, please refer to my previous post. Thanks!

Also, look, @solarmorrigan, pyrokinesis! And @opalescentgold, because you know the fandom and may appreciate some references. Damn, I have been dying for a FMA AU for. so. long. And now I’ve managed to somehow realize it into fruition. Jeez. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this!

Q couldn’t stand. The rush of adrenaline and sheer agony were urging his heart into overdrive, as if in beating a punishing pace right then, it would somehow make up for the gaping hole wedged in his side.

He bit back a sharp cry, alchemy flaring as bright as the pulsing pain invading his system. In what was either an eternity or no time at all, the wound was cauterized in a fit of smoke and sizzling burnt flesh, effectively staunching the intolerable amount of blood loss in a matter of seconds. His head spun.

(For as long as he’d lived, Q had wished for a lot of things. Right then, though, there was only one thought that kept repeating itself in the confines of his mind—)

Footsteps were approaching. Q scrambled to get to his feet with whatever remaining strength he had left and snapped his fingers again. Vicious ropes of flames sprang forth like spiteful cobras, eliciting an intense wall of fire that stood guard between him and his would-be captor.

One steel arm shot out from among the blaze and seized him by the throat.

Q choked.

The rest of that body stepped through quickly enough, like an emerging monster materializing from the depths of hellfire.

“Ultimate shield, remember?”

Q clawed uselessly at the still squeezing hand around his throat. “L–Lieutenant—” he wheezed, bitter reluctance warring with his struggling will to survive. “Bond—”

“Hm?” The steel receded, and Bond looked back at him now, head tilting to the side. “What, the old owner of this body?” He tutted, visibly frustrated despite the good humor gleaming in those too sharp eyes. “I told you: He’s gone—he’s become one with the stone. I’m the one in charge now, and the name is Greed.”

He grinned, and Q’s guts twisted at the sight, eyes watering from the lack of oxygen. (He could still hear the sound of Bond’s screams piercing all the way down the long corridors. The way his body had writhed and bucked in violent pain as it died and regenerated again and again, rejecting the philosopher’s stone that had been wrongfully injected into it. The way he had suddenly gone lax while Q had done his best to burn through the literal living wall of obstacles out of existence to get to him.)

He gathered all his strength to curl up his legs and kick Bond in the stomach.

No, not Bond. (But that was still his face.)

Not anymore. (Still his eyes, his voice, the low gravel of his laughter, chest-deep and oh so warm.)

Just Greed.

(What if he was still in there?)

The momentum of that kick thrusted Q out of the vice-like grip as he landed onto the ground with a dull thud. A twang of stabbing pain in his side knocked the air out of his lungs, distracting him from the stings of having steel claws dug long strips into either side of his throat.

(The thing was that: if he really was still in there…)

“Damn it,” Bond—Greed—hissed, staggering back before steadying himself with an annoyed huff of breath.

Like this, Q recognized that whoever was in front of him then, despite appearing and sounding exactly like him, didn’t have the firm stance that Bond had always maintained, edged into his bones from all the arduous training he’d put himself through.

The red Ouroboros tattoo on the back of his left hand seared into Q’s vision like a brand, as though sealing a death sentence.

(... If he really was still in there, Bond wouldn’t have willingly punched a hole straight through Q.)

Once the thought sank in, Q’s stomach plummeted.

“Could you stop being such a nuisance?” Greed clicked his tongue.

When he tried to reach out again, molten fire engulfed the room at another snap of the fingers.

And in the roaring flames, Q screamed.

He wakes with a startled gasp, cold sweat breaking all over.

It takes a moment, but the familiar ceiling of his office finally shifts into focus once more, and Q lets out a shuddered sigh. The documents he was looking at lie strewn across the littered desk surface right where he left them, and at this very moment, the phone rings, shattering the disquiet that has settled over his foggy mind.

He doesn’t notice the long overcoat that’s, apparently, been laid over his person while he slept until he reaches over to make a grab for the handset. It slides down from over his shoulders and pools in the middle of his lap with a rustling of fabric.

Q purses his lips and picks up, free hand settling over his now healed side to ease the aching phantom pain.

“Yes.”

“Brigadier General, sir,” the operator greets. “Major General Moneypenny is on the line for you.”

“Put her through.”

The line clicks after a final ‘yes, sir,’ and instantly, Eve’s voice filters through from the other side. “Why am I not surprised that you’re still there despite the atrocious hours.” It isn’t a question, and he smiles.

“Hypocrite,” he replies without heat, thumb smoothing along the raised ridges of those scars that he can still feel even through the thick layers of his uniform. “How has Briggs been welcoming you back?”

“Oh, you know, the usual warmth and sunshine,” she says, a joking lilt to her tone, and Q winces just from imagining the howling gales of a normal Briggs snowstorm that must be sweeping through the barracks even as they speak. “Now, enough of your diversion scheme. How are things on your side?”

Q thinks he’s too tired to do much of anything else and chooses the easy way out. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Eve hums, entirely unconvinced, but doesn’t point out that his answer isn’t all that she asked. She knows him too well by now to press. “Sometimes, though, I do wonder if you should’ve just retired and gone to Rush Valley to do whatever it is that you automail enthusiasts do.”

The sentiment sends a soft snort through his nose. Not that he doesn’t wish to be a simple automail mechanic from time to time, especially when the price paid doesn’t seem equivalent to subsequent results, but in life, simple wants and actual needs are two different things.

They’ve all learnt this the hard way.

Even so, Q appreciates Eve looking out for him. Thousands of miles away, she’s still one of the few people who truly know and understand him. One of the few whom he trusts with his life. “Oh, definitely—once I find someone suitable to man the post for me, that is,” he muses, only half-serious. “No promises otherwise.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Sir.”

“Come in,” he calls and straightens up, popping the crick in his neck. “Gotta go now. Send my regards to Captain Tanner, would you? God knows the length that man’s gone to to keep up with you.”

Eve laughs, and he smiles, too, just as Bond walks in and closes the door behind him.

(There’s no Ouroboros tattoo on his hand, Q notes and subconsciously relaxes.)

(He shouldn’t feel bad for it—but he does anyway. Just the same as Bond, who didn’t mean to lose control long enough for Greed to hurt Q the way he did.

Emotions are fickle things.)

Eve has gone quiet for a long second as well, probably considering her words. In a way, Q feels he already knows what they are going to be, and grim satisfaction paints his tongue when what she says next is precisely just that, “How’s First Lieutenant Bond?”

How are things between you two, goes unsaid, but he hears it loud and clear nonetheless.

Bond is patiently waiting for him—hands tucked behind his back, perfect military posture, too proper and formal to bear—and Q squeezes the coat that remains in his lap.

(He misses the casual dynamics, easy tandem they used to have. One not laden with guilt and second-guessing.

It’s just one more hurdle for them to work through, he supposes.

Together.)

“We’re… getting there,” he replies, mildly surprised by his own honesty. “Talk to you later. Goodbye, Major General.”

He hangs up, and Bond has gotten closer, despite maintaining a minimum distance of three steps.

Q crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits, eyes expectant.

Eventually, Bond can’t but break the silence. “Was that Major General Moneypenny, sir?”

Q suppresses a sigh and nods. “Yes. Just one of her usual check-ins.” He pauses. “She did ask about you, about us, and how we were doing. And I said we were getting there—you heard.”

When Bond doesn’t reply, Q narrows his eyes, shrewd. “So, are we, Lieutenant? Getting there?” Most likely, he’s coming off much harsher than he originally planned, but Q doesn’t give a damn about that. Not right now. “You said you were following me to the top. Is this how you intend on doing it? By pretending to be a good little model soldier while keeping me at arm’s length?”

At this, Bond seems to further straighten, if that’s still physically possible. There’s steel in his eyes, but not the lost, abandoned kind given into avarice like that of Greed.

It’s all just sheer solid nerve and hardened integrity. It’s all Bond and so much more.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect and help you reach your goal—”

“Don’t you get it? You can’t protect me for damn if you’re always three steps away from me! That only means we’re no longer the team you seem to think we are.” Q’s mouth twists into a snarl. “Do you understand what I’m getting at, Bond?”

Bond turns his head away, staring out into the endless expanse of the night through the large panel of Q’s windows. Bond has never liked them, these ‘uselessly big windows that Central Command seems to prefer for their offices.’ Makes his job harder than it already is, he said.

Q tears himself away from the sudden memory.

“My only mission is to protect you,” Bond grinds out, hands that have fallen to his sides clenching into fists.

“And you have not failed.” Q’s voice has somewhat softened as he stands and clears his throat. “What happened, back then. It just means that we need to update our measures of counterattacks.”

They stare at each other now, mutual challenge shining in their eyes like a beacon to safety in the middle of a raging storm.

(“Q. I’m sorry.” Bond said, desperation ripping his voice raw and vulnerable. Q had never heard him like this. “I–I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“James, there’s nothing to forgive.”)

“We can discuss that tomorrow, then.” Bond bends down to pick up Q’s coat from the floor and gives it a few perfunctory pats before handing it back over, a tentative smirk on his lips. “Are you ready to go home for the night, sir?”

Q scoffs and takes it, not hiding his own smile. “Just about.”

It’s a long road ahead, but they’re getting there all right.

Bonus art:

#00q #teambondvillains #007 fest #007 fest 2020 #my art #my writing #my drawing

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dweetwise · 4 years

Text

day 18: panic attacks

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: fluffy angst, idk if this even qualifies as whump but it’s what i went with <3 warnings: panic attack descriptions word count: 1920

Ace is having a rather good day, all things considered. He finishes his second generator of the trial while Feng is still doing a phenomenal job at being chased by the killer, and he even has time to stop and search a chest in good conscience.

He picks up a broken key with a worn brass token, which isn’t ideal but he’ll add it to his ever growing pile of junk back at camp anyway.

In the time it takes him to find a generator, the Nurse has finally managed to down and hook Feng, but someone saves her right after and the chase beings anew. Ace would guess the rescuer was David and that he used borrowed time to make sure the gamer made it out, since he can’t see Felix being stupid bold enough to unhook in the killer’s face like that.

With the Nurse’s distant screeches providing some pleasant background noise—considering it’s not Ace she’s chasing—he gets to work on a nearly completed generator by one of the exits. If he finishes it before the killer comes to check, it marks their fourth completed objective of the trial, and it looks like they’ll have an easy escape provided she doesn’t have the obnoxious totem perk to ensure an instant down after the gates are powered.

At first, Ace doesn’t question why someone would have abandoned the nearly completed machine, but just before he connects the last two wires, he hesitates. Will this be the last generator on this side of the map? Maybe someone wanted to leave it because it’s by an exit?

He gets up to look around a bit, trying to spot any other nearby generators, but then he hears it.

A sob.

Ace frowns in worry and keeps looking around, not seeing any signs of life. Did he imagine it? Feng is the only one injured, and her moans of pain can be heard from halfway across the map. The girl is a lot of things, but quiet sure as hell isn’t one of them.

He remembers the key in his pocket, a normally useless item with an underwhelming add-on that will allow him to see his nearby teammates for only a couple of seconds. But right now, it’s exactly what he needs, and as he channels the item, he eventually makes out a human form cowering in the corner next to the exit gate.

The key’s power dies out but Ace doesn’t care, carefully approaching his distressed teammate.

He should have guessed who he’s going to find just by basic deduction, as Feng is still keeping the Nurse busy somewhere in the Asylum and David is one to push forward through sheer stubbornness. It still takes him by surprise to notice Felix, normally so calm and collected, huddled in on himself with his knees drawn close to his chest and his head buried in his hands.

Ace suddenly feels very out of place, and he realizes he could just slowly back away and Felix probably wouldn’t even know he was ever there.

But Felix doesn’t seem to be just taking a mental break from the trial, he looks to be struggling. His entire body is trembling and he’s taking sharp, wheezy breaths, bordering on hyperventilating.

And Ace might not be the best at offering comfort, but he sure as hell is going to try.

“Hey,” he offers softly as not to spook Felix, but from the way Felix’s head snaps up in surprise, he’s not successful. Shit, he’s never seen the guy so upset, looking utterly broken with tears and snot running down his face and taking short, shaky breaths. It make’s Ace’s cold, selfish heart clench in sympathy and he slowly kneels down on Felix’s level, far enough away to hopefully not feel like he’s cornering him. “How you holding up?”

That’s probably the dumbest thing he could have asked, but at least it makes Felix react, quickly wiping at his face and averting his eyes.

“F-fine, sorry—” Felix starts, but then his trembling voice breaks on another sob and he hides his face behind his hand in shame as another wave of what Ace assumes to be a panic attack hits.

Ace has never been good at dealing with emotions, his or others’, but he’s learned a lot after being swept up by the Entity and trying to keep everyone in their little group happy and healthy. He knows that Dwight needs to be held when his anxiety surfaces, and although that position is usually reserved for Jake, Ace has been the body for Dwight to cling to on a few occasions when others were unavailable. On the other hand, when something triggers Quentin’s PTSD, the boy wants nothing more than to be left alone, and even the smallest touch will send him spiraling deeper into his own head.

“It’s alright,” Ace says, trying to keep his voice calm and even offering an encouraging smile. “We’ve all been there.”

That seems to calm Felix down some, so Ace optimistically deduces that maybe his presence does help after all.

This is a vastly different situation from Dwight or Quentin, though. Where Ace mostly sees himself as a somewhat shitty parental figure to the boys, he’s been openly flirting with Felix ever since the other got here. And despite Felix sometimes awkwardly flirting back, he fully expected their relationship to stay at the casual friendship level.

But this is huge step, and if Ace manages to comfort him without hiding behind shitty jokes and Felix allows himself to be vulnerable, maybe that’s a sign they could eventually be something more.

“Just say the word and I’ll be on my way,” Ace starts. “But I also have a pretty good shoulder to lean on, if that’s something you think might help.”

Felix glances at him and Ace tries to keep the smile on his face despite his own nerves surfacing and mixing with the worry for Felix already there.

“Are you sure?” Felix asks, voice nowhere near steady but at least being able to form a complete sentence.

“Of course!” Ace reassures without even knowing which option Felix is referring to.

And then Felix looks back at the ground and curls in on himself further and Ace tries not to be disappointed. He’s already moving to get up, an apology ready on his tongue, when Felix shuffles along the exit gate wall to make room for Ace to join him.

The grin that forms on his face might not be the most appropriate considering the circumstances, but Felix doesn’t protest, in fact he immediately buries his face against Ace’s shoulder and clasps his arm in a death grip as soon as he takes a seat next to him.

Felix takes shallow breaths against him and Ace doesn’t care that his shirt is getting stained with wet tears and snot, suddenly hit with how intimate the entire situation is. His own nerves resurface and his free hand hovers awkwardly in the air, not sure if it’s appropriate to touch the distressed man.

But in the end, he’s a gambler, and so he gambles, placing a hesitant hand in Felix’s hair as he remembers the other is usually messing with it when he’s nervous.

When the only reaction he gets is Felix gripping his arm tighter, he carefully starts running his hand through the locks, slightly disheveled from where Felix has no doubt been doing the same.

“It’s okay,” Ace says, trying to keep his voice steady and hoping Felix can’t hear his heart hammering in his chest. “You’re okay.”

“I’m going to get crows,” Felix chokes out through the tears.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ace reassures, discreetly looking up to try to spot the birds that should already be circling above Felix’s head. “Feng and David are keeping her busy. She’s got no reason to come here.”

Ace frowns as he realizes can neither see nor hear the Entity’s spies, despite knowing their captor’s rules clearly state the birds should be giving away their location by now.

The key sits heavy in his pocket and he suddenly realizes maybe the Entity wanted him to find Felix. Regardless of how Ace feels about the otherworldly being, he knows it’s not satisfied unless the trial has been what it considers “fair”. Maybe it’s giving them a time-out until Felix is in shape to continue, and maybe that’s why Feng still hasn’t been caught, despite being injured against one of the strongest killers.

“Seems like the crows are on their lunch break,” Ace voices his observation in hopes of reassuring Felix. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Not surprisingly, the knowledge that he’s not on a time limit seems to calm Felix down some, and the grip on Ace’s arm loosens as the sharp breaths slowly turn into more deliberate ones.

“That’s it, deep breaths,” Ace murmurs and keeps petting Felix’s hair since it seems to be working, or at least not making the situation worse. “You’re going to be fine.”

He has no idea how long they sit there together, with Felix slowly coming back to himself and Ace offering generic encouraging sentiments he hopes are somewhat helpful, lost in their own little bubble while the trial carries on without them.

When Felix eventually pulls away, Ace feels disappointed, even if he finally gets some much needed blood flow to his arm that has fallen asleep a while ago.

“Fuck,” Felix sighs and leans his head back against the tiled wall with a dull ‘thud’. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not,” Ace offers with a small grin. “But I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I didn’t expect one in the middle of a trial,” Felix says, letting Ace is on the fact that this wasn’t a one-off. “Thank you. You, um, helped. A lot,” Felix says bashfully, and Ace has to resist the urge to pull him back into his arms.

“Don’t mention it,” he says instead, and when Felix just gives him an adorable, tiny smile, can’t resist adding a cheeky “There’s a lot worse ways to spend a trial”.

“I’d say being a liability and making a complete fool of myself isn’t something I’m eager to repeat,” Felix mutters, but he’s still smiling, so Ace hopes he’s not still embarrassed.

“Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t make the situation worse,” Ace jokes. “Or that my brain didn’t implode on itself from not making jokes or flirting for five minutes.”

“You were perfect,” Felix says so earnestly it takes Ace completely off guard, and he’s not blushing he’s just suddenly really warm okay— “I should get back to my generator,” Felix seems to remember, looking over Ace’s shoulder in the direction of the machine. “I’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time for today.”

“If there’s anything we have plenty of, it’s time,” Ace reassures, pushing himself off of the wall and ready to join the trial.

He offers a hand to help Felix up, and it makes him smile when Felix only hesitates for a split second before accepting the gesture.

“You know, we should do this more often,” Ace says with a grin as he pulls Felix up on his feet. “I mean, preferably without the panicking. I didn’t mind but it didn’t exactly look like you were having the time of your life.”

Felix huffs out a small laugh at the statement, and then he squeezes Ace’s hand that’s still clasped in his.

“I’d like that.”

#whumptober2020 #no.18 #panic attacks #dead by daylight #fic #riconti #dweetwrites #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd #prompt #felix x ace #dbd fanfic #mental illness cw

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diamondcamefromhell · 3 years

Text

Memento Mori

A/N: This was written with a lot on my mind, and I will talk more about it at the end, but a short summary, this is an insert imagine, in a way, where “he” can be whoever/whatever “he” is to you. and you, “they”, i hope take something from it.

i am an emotional mess. i needed to write this. i hope you appreciate it.

There, at the exact same spot where they now stood alone, once stood someone else. Hands tied together seemed to be the only thing not letting their own worlds fall apart. Looking at his eyes they saw galaxies, and in turn, he saw infinity in theirs. A bond so beautiful, there was not a force on this earth to break it, but some things are stronger than bonds. Some things can break through the obsidian that is love, crack the diamond into tiny little bits and extinguish the fire that once burned so bright.

They stood there, on the lonesome, but not entirely alone. Missing not only a better half of them, but a soulmate and a companion. They wondered, how they got here, and even more about where they will go. Where will they carry him and his legacy, where will they sing the songs and dance until the feet cant hold them up anymore. They wondered at how many starry nights they shall stare at to see a galaxy that was his.

There were endless nights ahead of them. And a number they could now count behind, a painfully small one, compared to the eternity that is a lifetime. There was not a word for pain that they had felt the moment they saw him go. Not a word for the weeps that escaped the tender lips he will never kiss again. They gripped themselves, as if to stop from crumbling, but it was like holding water, parts of them leaked in the moonlight, and it was not the pain you write poetry about.

Not one you compare to rose thorns in your hands and not the one where you stare at the stars to chase it away. The pain they felt was thick and heavy, as if the universe itself split open when he left. And that is how they felt; a hole so eternal, not a thing could fill it, but a wind of a memory to gloss it over.

They remembered now, meeting him for the first time. His smile so charming then, as light as a butterfly swept them off their feet so fast, they wondered how was it even possible. They daren’t ask questions, though, they took his hand and danced the night away. The first time they woke next to him, they knew, this was where they belonged. They had found a person who they could call home, and it all suddenly made sense.

The adventures they went on, the laughs they shared, they wiped each other’s tears more times than they cared to count. At some point, time seemed to stop to exist; only if they knew how little he had left. They wondered now, if they would have shouted their love to the moon one more time, or held him for just for a moment longer. How different would their tale be, if they knew how short it was, in the end.

Perhaps they would have loved harder. Perhaps less. But there was not a measure for love, it was not a cup you pour into, not a cake you slice. Love they shared was as immeasurable as the galaxy, and thus was their pain. It was a web of emotion so raw, you could slice your skin open on the edges. They never hid things. They were an open book.

They understood how vulnerable they both were being - but it was how they loved. Openly. Beautifully. Painfully. They ran through the fields and sometimes their pain compared to roses, and their bony fingers gripping at their ankles, splitting the skin open, blood tainting the grass. But they never stopped, never stopped loving, never stopped moving. Part of them wondered, if they ever stopped bleeding.

If they ever will, now. He had gone to a land beyond the sunset, beyond the sunrise. Where the starry nights compared to galaxies they found in one another. They believed, wherever he went, it was better than where they stood. They believed that he was free of pain, free of fears. Full of love. And more than anything, they hoped he was waiting for them.

The moment they will lay their head to rest so eternal, a soothing voice will sing them home, until an even more familiar touch wakes them up for a better tomorrow. For a better eternity.

But that moment was far away, and so it seemed where their memories, becoming more distant each and every waking moment they spent apart. They gripped at what was left, the scent that still lingered on some of their bedsheets, the mugs he didn’t have time to watch. The letters they once wrote one another. It had become like bible verses to them now, he knew them by heart, but read them nightly, like a silent prayer.

He was their religion. They wanted their salvation.

It took time. Perhaps, they wondered, too long, but there was a night where they laid in their bed, not as alone as they were the day before. The letters this night unread, a prayer not said. They closed their eyes and for the first time in forever, fell into a dreamless sleep.

They danced the dances and sung the songs. They lived and believed. They moved on; but never forgot. Never quite fully, a shadow of him always just a step behind, watching closely. There were moments, where they looked back, asking him if he was proud. It was an aimless question, a shot in the dark, but sometimes they’d swear, they heard the tiniest “always”.

Sometimes there were days where it was what kept them going. Where it seemed that the sheer presence of him, however distant, was the living force for them. But those days were rare, and through the years grew rarer. The tears they shed lessened and the rip in the galaxy became manageable part of their lives. They kept going, further and further, shining more and more.

They never reached the light they had with him. That was simply not possible, the universe was never brave enough to let such a force run loose again. But they shined, dimmed, nevertheless bright enough to light the world on fire, bright enough to be remembered. They would never be forgotten, as they had lived a life he would have wanted.

And at the end, where they stood lonesome but not alone, they knew he was there. Always has been. They felt a presence, a touch as soft as a wind and a whisper hidden in the shuffle of the leaves. His love had come through the forces of nature, and at the very end, at the spot where they once stood together.

They stood together once more.

A/N: In memory of Unus Annus, and generally, all we lost, the living and not living things. grief is hard and it comes in many forms over many things. its okay to grieve whatever it is you want to grieve. your feelings are valid; know it. keep going, keep shinning. you are never alone, and when it is our time to say goodbye, we shall meet on the other side.

i love you all.

we were here.

memento mori.

#unus annus #memento mori #unus annus imagine #grief imagine #grief #i dont know how to tag it #we were here #i was here #self insert #imagine #sad imagine #angst #??

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