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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

Text

The Home I Crave - Chapter 4

Title: The Home I Crave

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tobirama Senju x reader

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2938

Chapter: 4/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶️▶️

Read the previous chapter here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Though your future husband had his own residence separated from the Hokage’s, you weren’t sent there after being informed that you would stay in the village for the next days. Instead, you would be a guest in Hashirama’s house, and Mito would provide you the orientation you’d need in your new role.

The Uzumaki princess, with her vivid presence and smartness, helped you to find ways to fill your days with meaningful activities, so you wouldn’t see time passing until the wedding and wouldn’t have many chances to feel like a burden staying in the house of strange people counting on their assistance. You couldn’t entirely avoid this sensation, which led you to decline from small favors and treats that were offered to you from time to time; on the other hand, you found some relief once you realized that the manners showed by the Hokage’s wife during the reception were not mere formality: Mito’s interest in your well being was genuine, and she was not going to give up on making you as comfortable as possible under the current circumstances.

It was better this way, you thought. So you just let her be the friend she was willing to be.

In fact, Mito Uzumaki was an excellent friend: she would always answer your questions and doubts with honesty and objectivity and never hide when she didn’t have the information you needed; the things she asked about you were never embarrassing or invasive, and you always saw yourself willing to talk when she made you questions. You spoke to her about your life with your sisters, your training at your clan’s compound, your use of Doton and how it is a characteristic of your family since the oldest generations; Mito explained that her clan was specialized in sealing techniques the same way your were proficient in Earth Style, and when you asked her about them, she described the history and the creation of the most important among them.

During your time together, most of your conversations consisted in you two exchanging your experiences as shinobi, your families and your relationships with your friends. You discovered opinions and preferences in common despite the obvious differences in your personalities: while you had a tendency to live in your head if you were left alone and not speak your mind unless you were invited too, Mito was straightforward when it came to expressing her thoughts, though she was never rude while doing it; many times she took the initiative to start the conversations, and the mission of taking out your thoughts would almost always fall on her shoulders, no matter how many times she assured you that you were free to speak whenever you needed to.

One day, when this situation happened, she looked into your eyes and gave you an advise for which you would thank her later, when you’d be a married woman facing the challenges typical of your new condition:

- I am always encouraging you to not keep everything to yourself when you have the chance to talk, but maybe I’ve failed in explaining why I insist so much in this, y/n-san.

You blinked in surprise and curiosity.

- In this case, let me ask you your reasons for doing this, Mito-san.

- This can be good for you in any circumstance of your life, of course, but the main reason is that this is the most efficient way to communicate with Tobirama.

You clenched your hands to avoid the trembling that was about to reach them after you heard his name. It’s been a while since it was mentioned between you: you’d usually hear it when Hashirama came home and mentioned something concerning his work or a message sent by his brother. However, you always felt it differently whenever it was said by Mito.

You asked little about him since that conversation you had when you first met the Uzumaki woman. You didn’t like to think you were avoiding the topic, though your attitude would say that this was exactly what you were doing; the case was that you didn’t have so much to ask about him after everything she told you that day, and knowing that he was the brain behind the measures of the new alliance between your clans already said too much about the person he was: any other minor information you’d get would sound superfluous compared to that. Mito noticed your reluctance in this, and despite never asking about your reasons for it, she chose to respect it.

To speak the truth, you would only talk about Tobirama when you got in touch with something – a place, a circumstance, an idea – that, according to Mito, reminded of him in some way. There was a time when you were taking a walk at the shores of a river around the village and she commented that you were walking at one of his favorite places to fish and spend time alone after stressful days.

- If he suddenly disappears, it is almost certain that you will find him here – she smiled – But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to come here unannounced when he’s trying to get some rest. He’s too attached to his privacy.

You looked around and couldn’t judge him for this feeling: that was a beautiful, calm place; you wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted if you were there seeking for relief from the burdens of the day.

Episodes like this happened with some frequency, and you took the opportunities to enrich the image you were creating of him. Everything you discovered was interesting in their own way, though you weren’t still able to decide if your final opinion was good or not. Maybe it was something between the two – shinobi were always in the gray zone of the human moral compass. And when you remembered that you, as a kunoichi, were included in this account, you refrained yourself from pointing your finger at him.

However, there was a parameter that remained unconsidered to you among all the others, perhaps because of your lack of attention or the great amount of urgent preoccupations you already had, and about which you’d only come to think when you were directly led to it – Tobirama’s physical appearance.

After your experience with Hokage, you were aware that sometimes informations could be deceiving depending on their source and the person who received them. With all you’ve heard about him and considering what you thought of the arrangements led by him, it was possible that your betrothed’s looks were just like his personality: not the most pleasing one, and even scary at some point. But when you added the fact that he had a brother like Hashirama, well, maybe he was nothing like this. At some moment, you started to imagine that he could resemble his brother in some traits, or he was just like the men you saw working in the office during the meeting: all of them had a certain level of resemblance, something that made it possible for a stranger to identify them as members of the same clan, even if they were not blood relatives.

Whatever the truth, all you had was a just a vague idea, a second hand thought that you weren’t willing to turn into a concrete concept or to confirm with Mito: it was more interesting just to hear her talk about his actions and attitudes.

You would only change your mind when, thanks to an unexpected incident, you ended up finding a portrait of him.

You were still getting used to the structure of the Hokage’s house: though your own residence at your clan’s compound was large, formed by many rooms, the corridors were few, not enough to form the same intricate labyrinth of the building you were now. Still, you wouldn’t avoid walking through them without company in order to train your sense of direction, and thanks to the orientations you received from Mito regarding the rooms you had permission to enter, you weren’t afraid of invading the wrong place. But you would still get confused if you entered the wrong corridor.

This is what happened that time, so that instead of reaching the living room you got into a narrow hall with a collection of photographs on the walls of both sides.

You recognized some of the landscapes in them from the path you and your group took when you arrived at Konoha’s territory: hills, rivers and the forest’s entry; some of the residences and farms were there too.

You also identified some of the people: there was a rectangular portrait of Hashirama Senju in what you understood to be his official clothing as the village’s governor; Mito Uzumaki appeared in another picture right beside it, surrounded by a group of men and women with their hair as red as hers and dressed in the same style, leading you to the conclusion that they were part of her family or were close friends; there were also pictures with some of the people you saw in the office beside those two.

The majority of the photos were of people you didn’t know but were certainly close to the ones you knew. There was a photograph of a middle aged man wearing a reddish armor; wrapped on his forehead there was a white stripe with the crest of the Senju. The man had his skin as tanned as Hashirama’s, and his hair was straight and dark just like his, though it wasn’t that long. Looking closer, you noticed the two shared similar face traits despite the lack of gentleness and freshness of the older man if compared to the younger one. There was no identification in the picture, but you thought that this man could be Hashirama’s father. If this was the case, they must haven’t had nothing in common besides the appearance.

Near this photograph, there were other, larger, with a group of children surrounding a woman, all of them wearing the Senju traditional clothing. One of the children, a boy with a bowl haircut, shared some resemblance with the man of the previous image: you looked at him for a moment and recognized Hashirama. The other children, all boys, and the woman were too different from him and between themselves, but there was something in them that told you they were relatives, so that if that was the Hokage’s mother, those boys should be his brothers. With this, your natural reaction was to wonder which of them could be Tobirama.

The first kid, close to Hashirama, had a scar on his cheek and brown hair; he was the one with the widest smile. The second, sitting right after him with a sweet look and some shyness in his manners, had white skin and a hair parted in two contrasting shades: white on the right side and dark brown on the left. The third boy, standing up beside the woman and separated from the others, was the one who most resembled her; he was staring at the camera with a serious, firm look. He had the same light skin tone of the second child, and his shaggy hair was of a shade similar to the lighter side of that boy’s hair as well; but the thing that caught your attention in this one was that pair of red eyes, just like the woman’s, with which he looked into the lens, to the photographer or to something beyond them. It wasn’t the look one would expect from a child.

Considering what Mito told you during the tea and what you thought of the arrangements, you were thinking that this kid had the highest probability of being…

- Oh.

Your voice escaped when you took a step ahead to observe the next photograph and found in it a figure entirely different from the ones you’ve saw until that moment.

The portrait was the same size as the one of the Hokage and it showed a young man in a blue armor, with his arms crossed, looking at the lens with the same perspicacity you sensed in the boy’s look. His armor was different from the one of the middle aged Senju who you supposed to be his father: around his shoulders there was a huge, white fur attached to his forearm protectors, all of them together creating the impression that his torso was larger than it really was; under the armor, he was wearing a black shirt that covered his neck and arms until his fists; he wasn’t wearing gloves. On his face, he had a gray happuri with the Leaf crest carved on its forehead.

The man had white, voluminous hair that would rebel against the steadiness of his general aspect, as a minor inconvenience that remained out of his control and to which he was already used; looking closer, you realized it wasn’t of a pure white, but of a slight shade of gray. His skin, only visible through his uncovered hands and face, was light, even pale if you compared him to other people who spent as much time under the sunlight as him certainly did as a warrior; was it a peculiarity of him or just the environment where the photo was taken? You had no way to tell. On his face, too, the light tone served as a white canvas for what you thought to be facial painting or tattoos: three red marks spreading over his chin and under his eyes as slits opened by a kunai; around his eyes, black, thin lines that would contour their natural form, already sharp, giving them the sensitivity of a hunter’s eyes.

Those eyes, you realized with astonishment, were as red as the eyes of the boy from the other photograph.

You went back to the children’s picture to observe his face with more attention, and didn’t need much time to notice the similarities between them. The mannerisms, the traits, the seriousness – they were the same person.

It was when you started to look for portraits of the other children and was unable to find anything except the one of Hashirama in the Hokage’s clothing. You already knew that the Senju head had lost his siblings to war, but just a few days ago you found out there was only one brother left for him. You looked at the blue armored man again…

- Finally I found you.

You startled, almost letting a scream out. When you turned, you found Mito smiling at you.

- If I was an enemy, you would be in trouble.

A glimmer in her eyes insinuated that she has been observing you for a while, waiting for you to notice her presence. You never cursed your lack of sensory abilities as much as in that moment.

- I… I am sorry for this – you apologized, looking at the photographs – I took the wrong corridor and ended up here. I wasn’t expecting to find these pictures, so…

You glanced behind, as if sensing the man’s image right over your shoulder. This didn’t escape Mito’s attention: she walked closer to its spot on the wall, looking in the eyes of the warrior. This gesture eliminated any remaining doubts about the identity of the man.

- You already guessed, didn’t you? – with her unaltered voice, she questioned you without taking her eyes off the picture.

You turned to the portrait too, facing his gaze again.

- This photograph was taken four or five years ago, but he remains the same – Mito continued – Not even a line of expression appeared on his forehead or in the corner of his eyes since then – and with a smile – The same goes to Hashi. Just another talent of the Senju.

You observed the portrait in silence, not interrupted by the princess: having familiarity with arranged marriages as much as you, she was aware of the time one needed to become accustomed with the looks of their betrothed under these circumstances.

You only spoke when you felt prepared to, and when you did, it was to point out that he looked even younger than you expected after all the things you discovered about him.

Mito laughed.

- I don’t blame you. If I didn’t know him or his brother and saw them together for the first time, I would certainly think that Hashirama is the younger one.

You laughed too; when your smile faded, you turned back to your contemplative expression. Now, the white collar and the aspect of his eyes just gave you an idea.

- I hope you don’t find it strange what I’m going to say, Mito-san, but he reminds me of a wolf.

Mito crossed her arms, looking at the picture; now that you were becoming used to her manners, you no longer found it weird to see her doing gestures like that while dressing in noble clothing.

- Nobody never said that about him before, at least not to me – she commented – But it makes sense, now that I’m looking at him.

You stood in silence for some time. You spent it training your eyes to get used to Tobirama’s sight, to the weight of his gaze, for you sensed that once you were together, you wouldn’t have such time. The funny thing was that, while you stood there, you didn’t notice how much time passed, only waking up when you heard Mito’s giggle beside you.

You turned, only to find her still contemplating her brother-in-law’s image.

- In his own way, he’s a beautiful man, isn’t he?

You sensed heat coming up your cheeks, mas didn’t refuse to reply.

- Yes. I dare say yes.

#tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju #tobirama fanfic #naruto fanfiction

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adventures-on-foster-island · 3 years

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I was hoping, if it's not too much trouble, you could talk a bit about the trapinch line? Recently a friend of mine received one as a birthday gift, however, she said that it wouldn't work on her team and she abandoned it at our nearby river. I was appalled by her behavior and went to save it. Since it isn't native to my region, I'm at a bit of a loss. Strangely enough, it has become very affectionate towards me, however, it is quite hostile to my other partners. (Flaaffy, Milotic, & a Swablu)

Your Trapinch likely senses the strength in your other partners, and maybe is afraid of you doing the same as it's previous owner. Give your new friend a name, try some team building exercises such as training, battling, outdoor activities in a neutral location, read this segment on how to care for the line, and give it some time. If your Pokémon love you and respect you, things will usually sort themselves out. You're a good person for going to rescue the little guy. Trapinch do not belong near a river, and he probably would have starved to death. I'm sorry your friend is a shithead.

How to Care For the Trapinch Line

The scientific community has fought over the typing for each member of this line. They fall in a grey area, somewhere between ground, bug, dragon, and flying, that leans back and forth on the scale between its evolutions.

Trapinch is a larval state for the Pokémon, and is the longest portion of it's life. Female Flygon lay eggs in sand at the end of their lives in the wild, however can live longer in captivity to raise multiple clutches of eggs. They hatch ready to start digging, building little bowls in the sand to trap bug type prey, without assistance from their parents. To simulate the hunt, provide your Trapinch with a big sand box. Once they've dug their trap, roll dragon and ground type food pellets down the slope. This provides them with both their nutritional and enrichment needs. Just because some of the 'Dex entries state that they can go a week without food and water doesn't mean they should. Offer them food every other day, and remove uneaten food from the nest. If you have a garden that is plagued by bugs eating your plants, place your buddy's sand box outside near the garden and the bugs will quickly learn that your plants are not worth the effort. Allowing your Trapinch to hunt isn't usually a problem like it is with more active species of Pokémon, as they stay in one place, letting the prey come to them.

There are a few variants who can live in more humid conditions, however your average Trapinch is a desert dweller and requires a dry climate. Invest in a dehumidifier and heat lamp for the room your Trapinch's sand box will be in, unless you live in the desert. For drinking water, try a hanging bottle usually used for rodent and bird like Pokémon. They won't use it often, however it's the easiest way to make sure they can get it if they need. If your Trapinch gets very wet, make sure to dry them off well, as they can grow mildew if left damp. They should not be bathed, and instead their sand box should be kept clean, which will keep your Pokémon clean.

If you and your partner are thinking about evolution, you should buy some noise canceling headphones, and a bigger sand box. They will need to eat more, usually twice a day, but can eat the same kind of food as they did previously. Don't be surprised if Vibrava is a bit of a messy eater; they spray digestive fluids onto their food to dissolve it before drinking the liquid that it turns into. While Vibrava is strengthening it's wings, it can not fly very far, however can produce vibrations with its wings that give humans headaches. It will take a few months of training your Vibrava while wearing the headphones before they learn how to control their sound. Some Vibrava can be trained to play songs from their wings, although this can take years of practice, and usually begins by playing music for baby Trapinch.

Flygon require a little more care than its previous two evolutions. They are considerably larger, with way more power than your average Pokémon (they are just shy of being considered a pseudo-legendary), and are not for beginners. Flygon need acres of desert to roam, preferably where they can hunt without endangering domestic Pokémon or local ecosystems. Although still carnivores, they do require a more varried diet; a mix of dragon, ground, and flying type food, and occasionally berries. The flying type food should be a high protein kind, usually made with ground bug meal. Offer them a small pool, just big enough for them to sit in, as a fresh water source and to help them shed. Their eye covers also shed, so make sure to teach them to let you see the shed before they eat it. This will help you make sure everything came off. If you notice pieces missing from the shed exoskeleton, especially the eye covers, check your Flygon over to see if it's still attached, and keep an eye on them for 48 hours. If the piece is still attached, take them to the Pokémon Center. Stuck shed left on for too long can impair vision, growth, and mobility.

This line makes for great security Pokémon on government property. Trapinch act like traps in the ground, Vibrava make sounds that deter trespassers, and Flygon whip up sand storms that make it impossible to see. Wild ones aren't very social, however they have been shown to participate in teamwork, and domestic members of the line can be quite friendly.

#ask #anonymous ask #ellisa talks #ellisa talks to trainers #pokemon #how to care for your pokemon #trapinch #vibrava #flygon #ground type #dragon type

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ohthethingswedoforlove · 4 years

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Yandere!GLaDOS and Yandere!Wheatley headcanons

Author’s note: Recently, I’ve been watching a let’s play of this game and not only was I flooded with memories of these two bastard robots but also with ideas of how to turn them yandere. Let’s see how that goes!

Warnings: yandere characters; violence; mentions of death; verbal abuse; major spoilers for the game;

GLaDOS

With GLaDOS it's... Well, a bit hard to understand if she even gives a shit about you in any way, or if the reason why she hasn't killed you yet is simply because she would much rather have a human test subject instead of some glorified pieces of metal with legs and a barely functioning brain.

She certainly seems to want to make her dislike towards you very clear, that's for sure.

She's quite verbal about it.

But, for someone who supposedly despises you, she sure doesn't want to let you out of her sight.

It's her job, that's what she'll tell you.

She wouldn't even bother to watch such a excuse of a creature otherwise. Even for a human, you're quite pathetic.

Testing should not stop even when everything you love outside this facility is long dead and gone, she not so gently reminds you.

Though operational once again... She may have underestimated how much her personality cores seemed to be keeping her together.

She has become rather strange since the... Incident. Or perhaps that's just what being dead for quite a while does to someone, she guesses.

Oh, she hates you, don't get me wrong.

But there's something keeping her from killing you. Which is hilarious, considering the fact that her morality has been quite literally burnt to a crisp, if her memory serves her correctly.

But she humors the idea that perhaps it would be more satisfying to watch you slowly die and decay with the passage of years. She has an eternity of time to kill, after all. There's nothing more to it.

So why is that when you get separated from her with the aid of that moron, the only thing she can think about is finding you and getting you back?

She shouldn't care. It's not like he could get you far in this facility. If you don't end up accidently dying due to endless hazards of this place, she should be able to find you both and finally get rid of the walking nuisance that you are.

But... She doesn't.

Uncharacteristically to her, she tries to promise you better treatment if you come back to the test chambers and even suggests alternative escape routes (which she just plans to use as traps to catch you), saying the you really shouldn't trust that tiny spherical retard that you are calling "friend".

But you don't trust her. Of course you don't. You know better than to trust her. Besides, no matter how much she tries to sound a bit gentle, her cynicism and hostility seem to always break through anyway.

She thought she would hate you even more after you managed to get the idiot to the Central AI Chamber, trusting him completely and letting the core transfer happen.

You had just let the biggest and most unstable moron that ever lived be in charge of the whole facility. Now she was stuck inside of a potato battery, lost in the long abandoned parts of the Enrichment Center, miles and miles underground.

With you.

But, surprisingly, if the little underground journey you two had been forced to go through taught her anything, is that she may not hate you as much as she likes to let both herself and you believe.

No longer being attached to the Central AI Chamber, alongside with the slow recollection of memories of Caroline and helping you achieve your conjoined goal of reaching Weathley and dethroning him, gave her... A new view on you. And on her relationship with you.

You aren't her enemy! You're her friend! She doesn't hate you, she... Doesn't hate you.

She isn't sure if she's capable of even "feeling" love, but... She can guess that this is the closest that she had ever gotten and ever will to "loving" someone.

Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

When you two finally managed to defeat Wheatley and put her back on the mainframe... It felt like resetting all of that progress.

Something about the mainframe corrupts whatever's attached to it. She figures that was exactly what had happened to the moron.

She deleted Caroline from her brain. She didn't need her, she thought. It was nothing but a inconvenience, something too human that stops her from completing her tasks efficiently.

But even then, she just couldn't get rid of you.

She didn't even need to kill you. Just... Let you go. Let you have that freedom you crave so much. You're just going to cause more trouble if you stay, anyway.

But she can't seem to let you go.

Against her better judgment and your pleading, she throws you right back into the test chambers.

At this point, she doesn't even care if you decide to complete the tests or not.

She had created two backups for a reason, before all of this happended.

She'll monitor the testing of the two robots instead, doing as she had always done with you beforehand.

From time to time, in between tests, she checks up on you. She makes sure to know where you are at all times, being careful to not let you get far in case you do move through the tests. She has learnt a lot about how you function by this point.

Sometimes you wonder is she's still here. She barely even talks to you anymore, preferring to simply watch you with a strange and supposedly impossible feeling of melancholy clinging to her.

When she does talk, it's usually just to calmly detail to you how you won't be able to leave, no matter how hard you try.

Wouldn't it be better if you just give up?

The outside world isn't the paradise you're expecting, anyway. You'll die a horrible, painful death out there.

At least you're still alive. With her.

Wheatley

When it comes to Wheatley you have to understand that he's... Well, stupid. There's no way around that one, really.

Though, while he was still in his spherical core body, he wasn't much of a problem.

A moron, yes, but a rather lovable and somewhat helpful moron.

He only wanted to help out, given that you would help him as well. You two had a common goal in mind, after all. To get out of this place, preferably alive.

He has to admit, the moments when two had worked together were rather nice.

He wasn't really expecting much from a human, especially one that had been in suspension for such a long time. He's not even sure how your brain still functions, to be perfectly honest.

But maybe it was the thrill of escape, coupled with finally being able to make his own decisions and having someone who wasn't treating him like a living liability at every minute, that made him... A bit attached to you.

At first he figured that it was simply out of convenience and mutual helpfulness that he wanted to stay near you.

But when he finally came to after being nearly crushed to bits by GLaDOS herself when you two accidently activated her, his first thought was about how his friend was in danger and he had to get them back. He needed to. Not just for the sake of the plan, but also for your sake. Mostly for your sake.

His attachment only grew as you two later reunited and continued on a new escape plan, reaching a way to confront GLaDOS. Properly this time.

It was when you both decided to initiate the core transfer and let him take her place that things started to go downhill fast.

The mainframe quickly corrupted him.

But maybe it wasn't just the mainframe.

Maybe it was that alongside with the sudden realization that now he is in control of everything. The whole facility!

Tiny little Wheatley, who during his entire pathetic existence had been told that he was nothing but a useless moron, is suddenly in control of everything.

He's the boss now.

And you also quickly found out that, for a robot, Wheatley is... Surprisingly emotional.

He has a big inferiority complex.

He tends to let his anger and need to validate himself absolutely control all of his actions.

He doesn't care about what you think.

Or that's what he tells you, at least.

But the second something questions his authority he loses it.

It would be hilarious, really, the way he seems so terrifying and in control one moment only to crumble into a disjointed panic the next.

It would be, if he wasn't bringing the whole Enrichment Center to crumble down along with him.

When he realized that you had joined forces with GLaDOS he went livid.

How dare you? After all that he did for you and him both? You're just going to betray him like that?

He's going to bring this whole place to the ground to prove a point, if he has to.

Now that you are back on the upper levels of the Enrichment Center he isn't planning on letting you go anywhere.

At first, he thought he could keep you as a test subject.

But after you proved yourself to be quite stubborn in your continued attempts to escape this place, he decided he didn't need you for that anymore.

Quite literally. He did found two perfectly functional robots that GLaDOS had left behind to serve as test subjects.

You have been more trouble than you're worth, he tells you. Only to then disclose how he's actually planning to kill you.

And he did had the intentions to go through with it... Well, until his anger cleared enough to actually let him realize who he was going to kill.

He shouldn't have hesitated, but he did.

And you managed to run from the scene. Not surprising, considering that you've been running circles around him for a while now.

But that was the last straw.

He started to bring everything in your possible paths to come crashing against themselves, constantly going between screaming at you to not dare to run away from him and pleading for you to get back in complete panic.

In the midst of all the chaos and destruction, you end up getting separated from your Portal Gun and, consequently, from GLaDOS. That left you trapped inside a closed-off amalgamation of two test chambers that had been crushed together, with no way to get out.

It had been an accident, but it was the best damn accident that had happened so far, in Wheatley's opinion.

Maybe you should stay there. Maybe you shouldn't go anywhere until you learn your lesson. If you can't behave, you might as well stay there completely isolated until you see how his company is actually preferable, a godsend really.

You're in a race against time with Wheatley, you really are.

Because this is all going to come down whether or not he's actively trying to cause it. With the way he's running this place, it's not going to last much longer.

So you either manage to reach the Central AI Chamber in time to, somehow, do another core transfer; or, more probably, you are going to need to convince him to do something to stop this.

And you're going to need to spell it out for him too. He's a dumbass, he has no idea of what he's doing or what's going on, so he's just going to ignore the blaring alarms and warnings screeching at him that this place is literally going to explode.

He's not hard to trick. But he's stubborn.

You're going to need to swallow your pride and give him what he wants, if you want to get out of confinement.

And what does he want from you, exactly?

He's... Not sure, actually.

Maybe a bit of respect. Maybe some appreciation for everything that he has done. Maybe even gratitude over the fact that he chose not to kill you. Yeah, that. Maybe if you show that you can act as civilized as you humans seem so convinced you are, he'll let you out and back on the testing tracks or something.

Honestly, if you want to pull the rug out from under him, just tell him that you love him. As a friend, or just in general, really.

He'll be completely caught off guard. It's... Not what asked out of you exactly, but... It's close enough, he decides.

And by "close enough" he actually means way better than he expected. Surprisingly so. Though he won't really tell you that.

From now on, your survival depends fully on how well you can keep Wheatley calm.

While rather easy to fool, he's also incredibly unstable.

Though he does like to believe that you're finally on his side and that he can keep you here, he'll lose his shit if he even suspects that you may have lied to him or are just using him to escape.

Then it's right back to the closed-off test chamber with you.

#tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere wheatley #yandere wheatley x reader #yandere glados #yandere glados x reader #yandere portal #yandere portal x reader #tw violence #tw death #tw verbal abuse

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gregtroyan · 3 years

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Radiant Epoch: Chapter 2 - Lyra

All the truly enjoyable things in the world came in two kinds. One kind had only a finite lifespan. With things of this kind, there was a moment one could look back on when they first clearly understood that it contained a whole new world of delights just waiting to be explored.

But with that realization came the silent promise that, if one devoted enough time to it, sooner or later, there would be nothing left of it to explore. And finally, the day would come when it no longer felt like an enjoyable thing at all; and without really thinking much of it, a person would simply cease to pursue it. Ten years ago, Lyra would have unhesitatingly cited her dolls and their imagined adventures as one of the more enjoyable things she knew of. The rather impressive doll collection she boasted as a child was just one of many ways in which her life had been enriched by her family’s vocation as retail merchants, which made novel items imported from far-flung regions of the Hafen Empire and beyond a common sight in her house.

The Lyra of today could not recall when playing with dolls had stopped being an enjoyable for her, but she knew it had been many years since she’d felt the urge to do it, and that, at some point, she began to find it more enjoyable by far to see a little girl’s face light up when told that one of Lyra’s childhood toys was hers to keep forever. Incidentally, indulging this more recently discovered pleasure had ultimately whittled her once-prized assemblage down to a single member: a very unusual artifact of the now badly endangered traditional culture of the Anhelos Archipelago, which had managed to stay on as one of her possessions after losing its value as a plaything by becoming instead an evocative symbol of yet another of her enjoyable things, that being a growing earnestness to learn as much as possible about the world she lived in (an interest of hers which no doubt had its roots in her father’s habit of providing his young daughter not only with unique toys, but also with tales of the faraway lands from which they came).

Things of the second kind were a bit more mysterious to Lyra. They had no clear origin, and the way they felt never seemed to change. It was as though people had just been designed to love certain things. Seeing the world slowly flood with light before a sunrise. The feeling of cool air early in the morning. The melodic chirping of the birds who lived in the mountains surrounding Paach as they took to the skies in anticipation of the sunrise. How clear the sound of running water was at the canal while most of her neighbors still slept, or the way the soil in her family’s garden smelled after she watered it.

Lyra had no idea why any of these things which embellished her mornings made her happy, or how she could feel so certain they always would. Perhaps giving toys to children was another pleasure which, once discovered, would never fade. She had seen no evidence in her seventeen years that adults ever got tired of doing that no matter how old they grew.

Such were the thoughts drifting aimlessly through Lyra’s mind this morning as she lay motionless in her bed, not quite sure she had really woken up just yet, or whether a minute or an hour had passed since possibility of getting out of her bed had first occurred to her.

As the first calls of the birds she had just been thinking of reached her ears, she snapped her eyes open and finally acquiesced to wakefulness, rolling out of bed and making for the chemise she had placed on her dresser last night all in one motion. After donning the garment, she felt around for another item she knew to be on her dresser, and soon found it: a small cylinder, with a tiny hole bored into one of its bases. She placed her finger into the hole for a moment. A faint humming could be heard coming from the object, and then suddenly her room was bathed in a soft red light.

Talises were by now a rare sight in most parts of the Hafen Empire. Most kinds had been banned, recalled, and destroyed within a year of the technology’s debut, after the horrific effects they had on the body became tragically apparent. All that was now left of the promise of a vastly improved world which had been fleetingly attached to these items when Lyra was a little girl were a few trinkets offering mild convenience such as the one she now held, which had been allowed to remain in legal circulation because they supposedly used too little magic to cause any harm.

Most people remained extremely wary of them regardless. In Paach, only a handful of eccentrics owned even a single talis. Lyra’s family owned several, and she had recently started keeping this one in her bedroom as an aid to her morning routine, since at this time of year, it was almost always still dark out when she first woke up. To date, she had felt no ill effect from using it. Her father had even said that “everyone” in the city of Hafen still used talises for lighting at night, and he had brought most of the ones they owned back after one of his annual trips to the capital.

The thought had crossed Lyra’s mind before that, given her father’s obsessions with the latest things to come from Hafen, she and her family probably would have been among the first to die of magic sickness in Paach if their business had been as active as it was now when talises had first been available.

Lyra set her talis back down on the dresser, and, with the help of its light, stepped in front of her mirror and reluctantly began putting on the rest of the outfit she had laid out the night before: a long white skirt adorned with colorful foliate embroidery, and a very billowy coat cinched to the wearer’s body by drawstrings. Her father had procured these for her just a few weeks ago during his most recent stay in Hafen, and had presented them to her with the utmost assurance that they were highly fashionable among young women in Hafen these days.

There was probably no human girl in Paach who owned as much “fashionable” clothing as Lyra. There were probably also few who would have cared to less. By now, her parents had to have known that Lyra was not one to be impressed by whatever strangers living hundreds of miles away found fashionable, but every time they presented something like this to her, they talked on and on about it as though this was the one that would finally make their daughter understand.

Admittedly, Lyra had been slightly more interested in gifts of ornate clothing when she was younger, but as she grew older, she realized that in a town like Paach, “being fashionable” just meant sticking out everywhere you went, stirring up jealousy in the other girls and even some married women in her fairly well-to-do neighborhood, and getting nasty glares from cordillans or any human to whom Hafen culture was still anathema (which, in Paach, was a lot of humans).

Around the same time she had wised up about wearing high-quality imported clothing about town, she also realized that these clothes had always been more for her parents than for her anyway. What better way to showcase their shop’s access to the finest merchandise coming in from Hafen than by displaying it on the person of their lovely daughter? That, and her father liked to be surrounded by anything that might let him imagine he was but a temporarily displaced member of the Hafen bourgeoisie, and not a man born and raised in Paach as he actually was.

Lyra let out a sigh as she finished tying off the cords on her coat. She would be minding the store alone in the morning as her parents attended to some business elsewhere in town, so she had no choice but to assume her role of living advertisement today, at least until they returned. She was already looking forward to stripping these off later in the day and changing into the simple but pretty blue kirtle Tyce had bought for her a few days ago.

“Tyce….” Lyra muttered softly as she turned away from the mirror.

A month ago, that had been just a name to her. The name of one of her best friends in this world, sure, but saying it aloud had really felt no different than saying anybody else’s name. Now, it had become a charm that could make her feel just a little bit happy every time she said it. It seemed like the kind of charm that should wear off after a few uses, but somehow it never did.

Tyce and Lyra had begun dating just a little under a month ago, following an unintentionally romantic evening under the stars. Looking back on it, Lyra was still unable to explain how she’d acted that night. Truthfully, she had felt strange even before Tyce had arrived, like the night was just uncontrollably different, but not for any reason she could pin down. And then out-of-the-ordinary things started happening one after the other. Tyce showed up on time. Geneon did not show up at all, leaving the two of them alone. A perfectly normal and innocent chat somehow immediately brought out her long un-confided dread of a seemingly unavoidable future playing out a scripted life in Paach.

By the time they’d set off for the cave, Lyra had been awash with far more conflicting emotions than she’d been prepared to grapple with on what was supposed to have been nothing more than yet another carefree and relaxing time with her friends. She had been angry at herself for letting herself get so vulnerable for no real reason, angry at Tyce for his ineptitude at handling her vulnerability, angry at herself for being unreasonably angry with Tyce, upset that her tried and true mental routines for reigning in her anxiousness around other people were for the first time she could remember simply not working, and desperately searching for a way to shove all of it aside and just have a fun night — all while her worries about the future seemed far more crushingly valid after having finally been heard by someone else.

But she had also been deeply appreciative, to her own surprise, of Tyce’s unyielding efforts to comfort her in spite of his ineptitude. And when he had hugged her by the waterfall, she had suddenly become irrepressibly cognizant of the fact that she was alone in a beautiful place with someone who had actually grown to be quite an attractive man, who she trusted, and who cared about her deeply. It was like there was been some other Lyra who’d been taking a nap in the back of her mind for years who had been well aware all along of what that meant, and that simple touch had finally woken her up; after Tyce’s words at the cave, she was ready to take the reins, and somehow knew exactly what to do next.

It had been the sort of rash and inexplicable action that Lyra had always believed generally led to no good, but so far, she wasn’t complaining about the results. In fact, just about everything since then when it came to Tyce felt totally new and inexplicable to her. It had become clear to her very quickly that the lexicon she’d been given for understanding it all fell far short of the task. Words like “love”, “passion”, “heartache”, or “lust” seemed hopelessly clumsy in practice for navigating romance. It was like people had just given up on coming up with new names for anything once they got to this part of life.

As Lyra headed downstairs, she laughed as remembered what she’d been thinking about in bed a few minutes ago, and wondered which of the two kinds love was. If she thought about it, it had to be closer to the second kind, but overall, her theory of the good things in life now felt like a much less profound epiphany than it had when she was half asleep.

Shelving the whole idea for some other morning’s idle contemplation, she turned her mind to her plans for the day. Her parents would be out during the morning, and she would be minding the store in their absence. After they got back, it was off to her date with Tyce. Troupe Astral had come to Paach, and Tyce was taking her to see their performance. Year by year, Paach was become more open and integrated into the cultural life of the Hafen Empire, but as far as Lyra knew, getting to see a show like this was a first for the people of the town. She was excited for it, and the fact that they showed up so soon after she and Tyce had begun dating somehow made it feel like the whole thing had been specially timed just for them. Lyra had no doubt that this was a day she would remember for the rest of her life. It was hard to believe that after her date, she had something even more important to do.

Before meeting up with Tyce, she was going to see Geneon.

The one and only problem in Tyce and Lyras’ new relationship was what to do about Geneon. A month ago, Geneon and Tyce had more or less shared the same place in Lyra’s heart. The trio had been best friends for long time now, and tended to spend as much of their downtime together as possible. In fact, as far as Lyra was concerned, the two of them were at this point her only friends, or at least her only real ones. Now, though, all of that was in danger of becoming a thing of the past.

It wasn’t just that Tyce and Lyras’ relationship had changed. Of course they were going to want to spend more time with only each other’s company. That probably would have been a bad enough strain on their friendships with Geneon, but it was something that could have been gotten through with time. From what Lyra had seen of other people’s relationships, the whirlwind of mutual infatuation in which she and Tyce had found themselves helplessly caught these past weeks was probably not destined to remain so overpowering forever.

No, the real problem was the huge fight they’d had when Tyce and Lyra had finally worked up the courage to tell him about “them”. It had been the kind of fight where nobody involved was sure whether they were ever speaking again afterward.

Lyra mostly blamed herself for what had happened. First, they should have told him right away rather than waiting so long. Although in fairness, it wasn’t like they were keeping it a secret from him specifically. Tyce’s mother was the only person who heard before Geneon, and that was only because Tyce had just blurted out the truth like it was no big deal when his mom asked how his night went the morning after their first kiss. For her part, that night had left Lyra’s mind spinning. It was only after seeing Tyce again and talking about it all that she finally came to the conclusion, “This person is now my boyfriend,” and the change was so dramatic and hard to believe that she felt like she needed time before telling Geneon, let alone her own parents.

That said, she had only wanted that time to come to terms with her own feelings. As soon as “being in love with Tyce” felt safely like her new normal, she was ready to announce it to the world. She had rehearsed any number of ways the conversation might go with her parents, and was fully prepared to withstand any resistance to her relationship they might put up.

But somehow, she’d given no real thought to how the talk with Geneon would go. Partly that was because, unlike the talk with her parents, Tyce would be there, too, and it wasn’t like she could just write him a script and tell him to stick to it. Not like they should need some plan of action just to talk to their best friend anyway. What was there to do but explain things and assure Geneon he meant no less to them now than he had before?

Suffice to say it had not gone well. If she was being honest, Lyra had noticed long ago that Geneon probably had feelings of his own for her. It was something toward which she had always feigned obliviousness. He’d never confessed his love for her, after all. How could he? A cordillan orphan, and a human daughter of what passed for high society in their town? It was tragically unfair, but that wasn’t going to be an easy life to make work. Besides, in all those years since she’d first started to wonder if he felt that way, “love” for Lyra had always been something for the future — ideally with a mature, intelligent, and well-organized man from somewhere other than Paach who she was sure to fatefully encounter through her family’s business one of these day. For as long as that had remained true, it was easy to just not think about love at all.

Lyra’s big mistake that day had been assuming, without even noticing she was assuming it, that, because Geneon had not acted on his feelings for her, that meant they weren’t every bit as powerful and turbulent as what she and Tyce now felt for each other. She had frankly expected him to accept the situation, be at least a little happy for them, and soon put to rest whatever feelings he might have had for her before she started dating Tyce. Put simply, she was so wrapped up in her feelings for Tyce that she hadn’t even considered that she would need to take how Geneon felt seriously at all.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to leave things as they were. No one else in Tyce and Lyras’ lives had ever been particularly happy about their longstanding friendship with a cordillan, and it would come as a relief to them if Geneon was out of the picture for good. The one exception to this was Tyce’s mother, Ellen. As a widow who ran her own smithy and casually treated cordillans like humans without finding it unusual, she had long been regarded as an oddball (albeit, owing to the necessity of her labor and her seemingly boundless generosity toward others, a well-liked one).

As for Tyce himself, he was being irritatingly stubborn about the whole thing. It was clear he was still angry with Geneon, and every time he came up in conversation, Tyce would hear nothing of going to see him together, and would just say that Geneon would come around when he was ready. But Lyra knew that might never happen. People had been begrudgingly tolerant of their relationship with Geneon when they were children, but they were getting less so with each passing year. It wasn’t like Geneon didn’t face criticism for getting friendly with humans, either, and given his unenviable lot in life, people not liking the way he did things wasn’t just something he could brush off and go about his business the way Lyra and Tyce did. All of the pressures in their lives were for their friendship to dissolve, and their feelings for each other were the only thing standing against them. It just wasn’t a fight Geneon could be expected to make on his own.

The most frightening moment for Lyra had come last night as she was coming home after finalizing her plans for today with Tyce. She was buzzing with excitement in anticipation of their next date, and at some point, the situation with Geneon had crossed her mind. It had only been for an instant, but the thought had popped up loud and clear, Things change. We’re going to be full-fledged adults soon, and then there’ll be no time for playing around outside of town anyway. Maybe it’s fine this way.

After expressing reflexive disgust at that thought and stamping it right back down, Lyra suddenly realized that maybe this was how most of the adults she knew became so self-absorbed and unconcerned about others. She vowed then and there that she would never become the kind of person who could just say, “It’s sad, but that’s life,” about a dear friend she’d grown up with just because she’d found some happiness for herself. She would go confront Geneon the very next minute she had the chance to, and today, she was going to have about three hours free between her parents’ return from their errands and her meetup with Tyce. Lyra was determined to save their friendship and wasn't going to give up on him.

#RadiantEpoch JRPG Novel Novelization Webnovel Webstory OriginalStory OriginalContent Fantasy SciFi Teenager Teenage Love Drama

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seokjxnnie · 5 years

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celestial (pt. 1) | kth (m)

genre: (future) smut, angst, demon au, incubus!taehyung x reader warnings: blood and violence, aloof asshole taehyung length: 5.3k

↳ her flesh and blood imparts immortality to any demon, but the incubus protecting her from the hunt requires something else of her body.

masterlist | part 2 ↠

a/n: let me know if you would like to be tagged in future updates! thanks!!

Everything was a little out of focus, but those piercingly red eyes were impossible to dismiss. Long, slender fingers unbuttoned her shirt. A heavy, aching fatigue paralyzed her, yet she still managed quiet mewls when a pair of lips cascaded tender caresses down the side of her waist. A scarce twinge of pain followed each stroke of a tongue, inspiring her to lightly squirm, but strong hands held her hips down. Eventually, with each kiss against her skin, she felt better, revitalized. Her vision gave to a slow fade.

She stirred in her sleep, rousing awake.

A dream. An inexplicable yet vivid dream. She wasn’t sure how long she napped for, but it must’ve been for too long if she felt this lightheaded. Sluggishly, her eyes opened, adjusting to the light as she stretched in silky sheets.

Her body suddenly went rigid, remembering she didn’t have silky sheets. A jolt upright and she found herself in a foreign environment. She was in a bed she didn’t know, in a room that wasn’t hers, wearing clothes that didn’t fit her. Before fear crippled her limbs, the door opened and revealed a kind face.

“Oh, Princess, you’re awake.” Soft eyes greeted her. “My name is Seokji—”

She flinched and tousled back when he approached and extended a glass of water to her. There was a throb in her head that elicited a pained exhale from her.

“Don’t move so suddenly! You’re probably still a little weak from all the blood you lost.”

An unearthly chill swamped her skin at such menacing words with inference she couldn’t grasp. Her heart thumped violently against her chest. Her throat tightened with the threat to suffocate. “Where am I? Who are you? Who changed me out of my clothes?” she assaulted him with panicked questions.

“Taehyung did. He had to heal your wounds and your clothes were soaked with blood. I’m washing them right now.”

Although he was seemingly speaking to her in an incomprehensible language, his words somehow brought on an ambiguous, fleeting series of images of her mind, bursts of what she could only hardly make out to be violence and gore. Even so, they were just passing visuals that failed to illustrate a coherent recollection.

Plagued with confusion and terror, her limbs quaked and her head pulsed. She darted her gape around the room in search of means of escape. “Please just let me go,” a frail, fractured voice pried from her quivering lips.

Seokjin swallowed, lips tautening into an apologetic frown. “Listen, I know this all might seem crazy and scary, but try to stay calm so you don’t overexert yourself.” Gingerly, he attempted to extend the glass of water to her once more, “I can explain everything.”

Her breaths fell as tremoring wisps before she contemplated whether it was idiotic or in her best interest to believe in the sincerity the stranger projected. She peered down at her foreign attire, finding herself in basketball shorts and a Spongebob t-shirt – both of which were too generously sized for her. The harmless image of the apparent pair of men’s pajamas she was in seemed to suggest something far from a hostile kidnapping. Then briefly, her gaze shifted to the drink stretched out to her, recognizing that her pounding head was begging for it.

“It’s safe, I promise. I’ll show you,” he insisted, bringing it to lightly touch his lips before he took a gulp in hopes of evaporating any of her apprehensions of it being contaminated. “See?”

Wary hands reached out to accept it. Reluctance quickly turned to eagerness when she felt how good it was to soak her dry tongue and quench the dense throb in her temples.

She’s never had a hammering headache in this magnitude before. She’s also never ‘lost of a lot of blood’ before which, according to him, was why she was feeling the way she did. All over again, she was swathed by a haunting uneasiness.

Hence, in spite of his warm smile and seemingly benevolent efforts, when his hand extended out in offer of taking away her quickly emptied glass, she instead tossed it at him. In the distraction of having him fumble to catch it, she made a hasty lunge off the bed and a beeline for the bedroom door – the alternative of the bedroom window was unhelpfully high and would’ve instead made for a slow and clumsy escape. Veering around him and his wide blinking eyes, she threw open the door and sped out, her bewilderment readying her to weave through whatever she has to in order to make it outside and scream for help. Unfortunately, it was a swift transition from the bedroom’s doorway into a face-first collision with a broad chest of another unidentified figure. Dizziness returning in an amplified form, she stammered back.

“Jesus, take it easy,” a tongue clicked before big hands claimed her shoulders and held her upright.

She peered up to find familiar eyes – the same eyes from her dream. They didn’t have the same red quality, but the matchlessly penetrative glance they delivered couldn’t be mistaken. Was her mind so inundated that it had fabricated a dream of the man now standing in front of her trailing his lips down her side?

Taehyung, she recalled Seokjin’s mentioning earlier. The visual prompt of his familiar face suddenly made for an enrichment of her memories, triggering another barraging flash of bloody imagery. Nausea settled down on her and her sights started spinning again.

He caught her when her knees submitted to a buckle. “You’re not supposed to be up and about yet,” his criticism resonated with a deep voice. Arm swinging around under her knees, he picked her up. A quick nod at Seokjin reassured the older that he can handle it from here.

She would’ve struggled if she wasn’t entirely crippled by fatigue and anxiety. However, as he began carrying her down the hall, she was suddenly confronted with a strong sense of nostalgia. The humble and rustic walls looked as if she’s been acquainted. It wasn’t until he sat her down on a couch of a living room that she then taken back to an amicable elderly face eight years ago.

“This is the town shrine,” she mumbled to herself after the fragments of reminiscence assembled to refine a certain memory.

For as long as she could remember, the girl could see supernatural beings. In childhood, they had never bothered her more than a brush of curiosity. And so, as a kid she had even called the things her imaginary friends, being that apparently no one else was able to see them and she was consistently being dismissed as having a wild imagination. Approaching adolescence, she began to recognize the eeriness in their ghastly looks, becoming increasingly concerned that she wasn’t growing out of her ‘imaginary friends’. Her developing maturity allowed her to find the fear in seeing things others couldn’t.

As a result, at 12 years old her parents took her to a shrine seeking advice from a gentle-faced elderly monk. There was a brightness behind his crinkled eyes when he smiled, and a cosiness played in his voice whenever he talked. He assured her parents that it was nothing to worry about, that all her visions were the product of a creative mind. Nonetheless, he still imparted her with a bead bracelet, assuring that as long as she kept it on it would protect her. Her parents appreciated the monk’s white fib in an attempt to help her feel better. Although it didn’t dispel the monsters, she felt an attachment to the bracelet and kept it on till present day.

Now in the same shrine eight years later, she blinked at and fingered the same beads around her wrist. Their original dark brown colour was now tinted a deep red. Before she even had the chance to add to her amassing puzzlement, she stiffened as five other strange men joined them in the room.

“Oh, the Princess is awake!”

“I thought I heard voices.”

Seokjin followed, entering and setting down her folded clothes on the table in front of her. “I managed to get the stains out,” he greeted her by her name with a lively grin, “but I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything about the rips and tears.”

Her eyes broadened, terrified, when she held up her shirt with a monstrous bite taken out of its side. She gasped and jerked back in retreat when she at last remembered the earlier pain that had thoroughly conquered her body. All too vividly was the reminder of the demonic face of the child that clamped its teeth onto her ribs. All the overwhelming emotions from the entire day suddenly barraged her, provoking her to shake uncontrollably. Stinging tears welled up in her eyes.

“How do you know my name? Who are you guys?” she whimpered through a broken and frail voice, sinking into the couch to increase her distance from everyone.

__________

The day was eerie from the start.

The walk from her dorm room to campus was darker than usual. It wasn’t due to gloomy weather of any sorts – it was actually a sunny morning, perfectly characteristic of the budding summer season. The shadows were actually casted by the blankets of monsters that spread, hardly leaving any landscape vacant. Two-headed cats hung on trees, three-eyed foxes sprawled across garden beds, double-ended snakes spiralled around stair railings, crows two feet tall enveloped benches and stone sculptures. It was routine to see them often, so much so that it was often hardly a chore to walk on through as if she didn’t see anything, to pretend as if she wasn’t stiff with anxiety and fear. But today was different. Their presence has never been so ample. While none of them flocked to her, she could feel their hungry stares searing into the back of her head, as if stalking her as prey. A chill snaked up and down her spine.

“What are you staring at?” A classmate joined her side and reeled her out of her troubled daze. Their paths often overlapped, heading to the same lecture.

She had long ago given up on talking about the things that she could see. “Oh, nothing, just thinking about the lengths I’m willing to take to get out of that argumentation assignment due tonight. If I asked you nicely, would you hold a knife to my throat?”

The classmate snorted. “Christ, relax! It’s your birthday tomorrow! You get it done tonight and won’t have to worry about it when we celebrate.” Excited pats warmed the girl’s shoulder. “You think I’d let myself forget and let you off that easily?”

With such an uncanny start to her morning, even she forgot.

She tried not to act distracted and insincere when she thanked her peer.

While eager to find distance from the horde as she entered the school, she instead found dismay in her lecture. Windows lined the side of the class, and lining the windows were an abundant layer of more demons. The students carried on as if the room wasn’t dramatically dimmed by the obstruction of the copious densities of the monsters, as if they didn’t see the multitude of brutish, ghastly faces glowering at them – at her.

She sank into her seat. Not only the horror, but the loneliness has never felt as smothering as it did now.

What’s going on? Why was today as unusual as it was? She didn’t know, and will probably never know. It’s been this way of her whole life – no one around her could ever answer her questions about her experiences with anything other than a look of concern. Nonetheless, she swallowed the fear accumulating as a swell in her throat and reminded herself that she’d just have to carry on and hope that the strange themes will curb on its own by the end of the day.

So, once she finished her classes, she found refuge in a deep, quiet corner of the library away from the windows to finish her assignment due at midnight. Hours bled into the tedious clicking and typing of her laptop, and although mind-numbing, it adequately served as a distraction from the eeriness that lurked a just a few walls away. So much so that the anxiety of the supernatural gradually dispersed to instead make room for the fatigue of her studies.

The library was completely silent – it was now late and the occupants must’ve cleared out. She, however, just had a couple more paragraphs to refine before she could leave too. Eyes strained and dry, face stretched by frequent yawns, and mind dazed from the droning of the past few hours, she remembered submitting to the droop of her heavy eyelids.

Just for a minute, she promised herself, just to rest my eyes.

Regardless of what she insisted, the brief moment of ease and tranquility was mesmeric. So much so that when she finally did bring herself to stir and scarcely open her eyes, she found the time to be 11:42pm with no accomplishment of additional work from when allowed herself the break an hour ago. The panic surged through her, bolting her upright with consciousness and playing her fingers in a hurried and tireless employ.

It was 11:59pm when she clicked on “submit” and a green checkmark responded on her screen to inform her of a successful submission. She threw herself back in a slump with a sigh of relief. Stretching in her chair, she relished in the release of tension in her body to accompany her close-call victory.

Happy birthday to me, the girl quietly tittered to herself when the time on her laptop blinked midnight.

Packing herself up, she was drawn from the excited thoughts of being engulfed by her bed when she heard a childish sobbing coming from another corner of the library.

She froze, stiff and cold. What was a child doing on a college campus at midnight? The catalog of horror movies she’s watched could provide some ideas, none of which too kindly for her. Pulse thumping so rapidly that it seemingly burned a hole in her throat, she remained unmoving, waiting to see if the cries continued. Maybe she was so worn out that she was hearing things, she tried to rationalize. She remembered a psychology article she read, outlining something along the lines of the mind tending to fabricate false stimulations to the senses amidst a backdrop of paranoia, which was easy for her to develop in the dark and isolated environment she was in now. Although she might just be desperately reaching.

A rigid breath of distress pushed past her gritted teeth when she heard the whimpering continue. She wasn’t imagining it.

Prompted by the sliver of concern that it was actually a child in the need of help, pale and clammy fingers dug for her keys before wedged them between her knuckles as a makeshift tool of defence. Then, she cautiously made her way towards the sound. An attempt to console herself came with the reminder of her phone’s function of a blaring SOS alarm. She thumbed the power button in preparation to hold it down and trigger just that if necessary.

Up ahead, she saw a little boy sitting at a table with his back turned to her, whines and sniffles produced from the face that rested down on folded arms. The child’s shoulders quivered up and down as he sobbed. Gingerly closing their distance, she didn’t see any other company.

Someone’s visiting little brother? A staff member’s wandering son?

“Hey, are you alright? Are you lost?” she asked, employing a soothing and reassuring tone before reaching out a hand to tap his shoulder.

The kid spun around to reveal a demonic face – pale blue skin, eyes beady and red, teeth jutting and serrated, far from the anticipated face of innocence and vulnerability. Gasping, the girl would’ve lurched back if the thing didn’t latch onto her shoulder with its claws, breaking skin and drawing blood. She cried in pain, only wailing louder when his jaw widened and protruded to clamp down onto the left side of her ribs. An agonizing ache thundered throughout her entire body and forced her to her knees. It felt like the monster child had started lapping at the blood he drew from the wound he created. Then, it felt like his robust set of jaws was curtly removed from her side. With her senses blurring towards a deterioration from the sudden trauma that rendered her faint and close to unconsciousness, she was losing the ability to perceive reality as anything other than indistinctive and uncertain.

Her pale face dropped to the floor when she lost control of her movements over the immense pain. Under hooding eyelids, her hazy and departing vision managed to dimly distinguish a set of legs that straddled and knelt down on the demon’s chest. Vaguely, she watched as its thrashing and resistant body abruptly drop to a limp when a fist brutally landed on the creature’s face. Puncturing through its skull, a gaping hole was left when the hand retreated.

Everything dulled to a black.

A dream. A stir awake. A jolt upright in a bed she didn’t know, in a room that wasn’t hers, wearing clothes that didn’t fit her. The door opened and Seokjin entered with a glass of water.

__________

It was just past 3am, she learned. She had been unconscious for three hours.

A man named Namjoon was seated next to her on the couch, a wary distance away in consideration of her comfort amidst a disorientation. Next to him, Seokjin. Across from her on the other sofa, they introduced themselves as Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook, who was perched on top of the backing of the couch. Taehyung remained leaning against the frame of the living room’s doorway.

Her eyes were darkened with exhaustion and dewed with distraught. Hoseok had reached out to offer her a box of tissues. Soon, fibres of the damp and crumpled napkin in her hand produced a speckled and velvety texture on her fingertips.

Although still on edge, she’s decided to submit to cooperation. She couldn’t fight back anyway, burdened by not only the physical stress and wear, but also by its allied emotional strain when complete recollection of tonight’s dreadful events returned to her. Or at least for what she was conscious enough to record.

Moreover, this group of seven men might’ve been strangers, but they were strangers who promised answers to her confusion. For the first time in her life, she just might be able to finally understand… everything. Her fear of them had grown less aggressive – if they wanted to hurt her, they would’ve done so by now, as opposed to all keeping a sympathetic distance and projecting similar looks of concern from their eyes.

“When you visited the shrine as a child, the monk knew exactly why you could see things others couldn’t. But, you were still a kid, you weren’t ready to understand yet,” Namjoon spoke softly, prudently.

Jimin, foreseeing her overwhelming plunge into a reality different from what she’s known, moved mindfully not to further rouse disturbance within her when he departed and quickly returned with a hot cup of tea to soothe. She took the mug from him with a timid thanks, deciding to trust the gentle qualities reflected in his consolatory smile. It came as a reward, the hot sips calming the sharp strikes to her temples and dissipating the bloat in her airways.

“What wasn’t I ready to understand?” her voice came out feeble and splintered by a stubborn sniffle.

He replied, “You come from what our people consider a line of royalty.”

A loaded statement. A challenge to process. She only registered the first half of it. “’Our people’...?” she tentatively repeated.

“Demons,” Yoongi uttered the word she’s been waiting to hear, “the kind you’ve been seeing since you were young.”

An indecisive gaze trailed over their faces, unsuccessful in realizing any severe differentiations. No one had colourful skin, excess limbs or features, barbaric and unearthly characterizations, none of what she was used to seeing.

“But you all look human.”

Demons come in different forms, they explained. The stronger ones were able to suppress their demon traits and resemble humans, with the trade-off of being able to be seen by them. They’ve blended in, even walking among society, undetected and only perceptible to other demons.

It all sounded like an exert straight out of a supernatural young adult novel. It only escalated from there when she questioned the latter half that addressed her relation in all of this.

Every century, a human is born with the blood that can prolong a demon’s life if consumed after the ripening of adulthood. Devoured in its entirety, the celestial flesh and blood granted immortality. That celestial being was her.

The hammering in her head resurfaced. An apprehensive throb in her chest imitated the same pattern. Denial was the overpowering emotion in this instance, however. The girl scoffed a slight laughter of disbelief that accompanied the shake of her head. “That’s ridiculous. That can’t be. It… I can’t be…”

Except it would’ve explained why a mass of monsters stalked her yesterday morning. They were waiting. And right on time, at the stroke of midnight that marked her 20th birthday, the demons that mainly left her alone her whole life suddenly wanted to make a meal of her. Most of all, it would’ve explained why she was the only person she knew that could see the supernatural element.

Tautness abruptly overcame her once again when she made the connection that the seven men in front of her were also demons, possibly with the same intentions. Had they only brought her here just to surround her and have her all for themselves? The tips of her digits drained pale by the deathly anxious grip she had on her cup.

Jungkook realized the brewing fright and unease in her silence. With wide eyes, he threw his hands up in defence. “Woah, wait! Not us though! We don’t eat humans,” he exclaimed.

“Not all demons have desires for immortality and intend to hurt humans. But, we are here to protect you from those that do, Princess,” Jimin added, a trustworthy look glossing over his irises to complement his promising words.

She grimaced, “Don’t… call me that,” she muttered under her breath.

“Most of us have been under the monk’s care since we were young,” Seokjin explained. “He knew what would happen when you turned 20, and he wanted to protect you. We all grew up knowing that. When he passed away a couple years ago, the seven of us took over the shrine as well as the responsibility of making sure you’re safe.”

Her shoulders deflated at the solemn news, reminiscing the elder’s kind eyes that had comforted her many years ago. “So,” her wilted gaze reluctantly flickered up at them, “that demon earlier… it was you guys that stopped him?”

Hoseok nodded, “Taehyung did. If he had come any later, you would’ve…” he shivered at the thought of it.

She swallowed, disturbed as well by the recollection of the grisly red eyes and the agonizing pain that came with the sinking of its jagged teeth, how she was likely seconds away from being reduced to an indistinguishable pool of blood and guts. Her eyes stuttered in their peer up to Taehyung, who had remained quiet and still by the door the entire time. He was stoic and difficult to read, but she had been deprived of the resilience necessary to look at him for longer than a blink. This was because she was uneased by the idea that he had been the one to undress her from her red-stained and tattered clothing earlier. Whatever he did though, the claw and bite marks no longer marked her skin.

Stammering fingers traveled to graze her side, acknowledging the lack of an anticipated ache upon contact. “H-How did you…?”

Namjoon gestured to her wrist. The bracelet that the monk gave her, he also gave it to Taehyung. He was apparently faster and stronger than any of them. Wearing the beads simultaneously for a long interval formed a bond between the two of them. Taehyung was her familiar, was the term Namjoon used. It was a bond that meant Taehyung’s duty protect her overpowered his instincts as a demon. It was what provided him the ability to close her wounds and prevented him from personally gaining vitality from her flesh. They had scented the beads with his blood, Namjoon continued to explain, which will come as a warning to other demons. They shouldn’t be bothering her anymore for the most part.

Dwelling in such a prolonged stage of bewilderment was exhausting. Being awake in the middle of the night after just barely recovering from a penetrative pain that spilled her blood was exhausting. Wrestling between knowing to believe and wanting to deny such outlandish fables was exhausting. She sat still, quiet, numb, tired, fingering the bracelet around her wrist, now understanding why they produced their red tint.

“Someone’s going to tell her, right?” Yoongi blurted.

She looked up. What now?

Namjoon sighed, eyes dropping as if he was about to disappoint her. “Taehyung is…” he paused, clearing his throat and shuffling a nervous hand through the hair at the back of his head, “an incubus.” The air surrounding them seemingly tightened. “Which means—”

“I know what that means,” she deadpanned, stopping him before he had to embarrass himself— embarrass her any further, and before the red tips of her ears spread to blot more of her face.

A reminiscence of the elective mythology course she took during freshman year reminded her that incubuses gained life energy through sex. Incubuses were also supposed to be nothing more than a myth, but how could she be surprised when monsters and familiars and immortality-granting blood were a factual aspect in her reality?

No longer being able to stand emotionally smothering herself, she leapt to her feet.

__________

While finally in her own bed, in her own room, wearing her own clothes, she was restless. In spite of her relentless tiredness, she couldn’t sleep. Swaddled in an uncomfortable warmth prescribed by the summer heat and a fidgety apprehension, the ensuing sticky layer of sweat that draped over her skin made for a painstakingly long journey until the state of drowsiness.

She had politely asked to leave. She had thanked them for their care and for their explanations, but she was in dire need to be alone in her state of exhaustion and disorientation. They didn’t stop her, however Hoseok and Jimin insisted on walking her back to campus residence at this time of night. She declined and asserted her request to be unaccompanied. Again, they didn’t stop her, perhaps out of sympathy and condolence.

Alone at last, the girl was lost in her thoughts and it kept her up. While her eyes idly traced the uneven patterns of her ceiling, her mind tirelessly ran several trains atop numerous winding tracks that overlapped, each one trying to make sense of her situation, trying to assess how she was going to handle the disarming truth she had still so desperately sought for. Most rails ultimately ended in collision.

The sun was already beginning to rise, peeks of radiance generously filtered in through her opened blinds and made for an unaccommodating setting for sleep. A huff of frustration sat her up and trudged her towards her window to drop close the shades. Already a crack open, her fingers first wrapped on the underside of the window’s frame to open it further in hopes of it catching a heavier breeze. She had just started to lift the glass pane when a tall, dark silhouette came into view.

She gasped and recoiled backwards, her release of the window allowing it to fall. Her hand hadn’t retreated far enough yet, she realized when her finger got caught in the panel’s drop. Pain surged up the length of her arm when the frame slammed down on her index. Yelping, she dropped to her knees before wrenching her digit free, finding a bloody trench framing her nail.

She didn’t have more than a second to grimace at her injury when the complete opening of the window required her immediate attention. Clambering back, fear seized her lungs when the shadowy figure that was suspended on the tree branch immediate to her window had climbed in. Before a scream managed to pry her throat open, their closing distances allowed her vision to sharpen the facial features of the stranger.

“Jesus, you humans scare so goddamn easily,” Taehyung huffed, sitting on the sill with one leg hovering above her bedroom floor and the other swinging five storeys above ground.

Anger surfacing, she exclaimed through gritted teeth, “Were you there this entire time?”

“Yeah,” he replied, curt and without a shred of shame or penance. “I actually followed you the entire way home, but I guess humans are inattentive too.”

She would’ve clenched her hands into fists in resentment if she wasn’t met with an immediate aching jolt from her fingernail. “I told you not to,” she instead spat an irritated murmur, which promptly transitioned into a hiss of discomfort when she wiped the blood from her finger.

Her scent flooded his senses. “Yeah, well look how easily you hurt too. How your species has survived this long completely escapes me.” After a patronizing scoff, he leapt down from the window and slumped down onto the floor next to her, legs folded in front of him. He captured her wrist with the injured finger and brought it close to his face. She resisted, face contorting into a scowl, knees withdrawing to her chest, and hand tugging back in response. He reinforced his grip. “Just relax. I’m trying to help,” his tongue clicked with impatience.

The girl swallowed, eyes locking with his unwavering, assertive gaze. The echoing reminder that the supposed ‘familiar’ had healing abilities prompted her to retire her defences, although she was unsure of how it was exactly going to unfold.

Another sharp inhale dropped open her jaw, stunned when he plunged the tip of her finger into his mouth. “What the fuck are you do—” she began to shout before wrenching herself free from his lips, only to reveal undamaged skin that made her abruptly pause in disbelief. Rotating it in view, she confirmed that her finger was no longer bleeding, the nail was no longer cracked, and the likelihood of bruising was no longer promising.

Is this how he does it? She only briefly pondered. But just as quickly, her eyes dropped closed when disrupted by the recollection of her supposed dream of him running his lips down her shoulder, down her waist, before she had woken up suddenly unscathed.

This is how he does it.

And that wasn’t a dream.

Taehyung interrupted her silent stupor, “A ‘thank you’ will do—"

“Get out,” she lowly rasped. A series of troubled and shuddering winces debilitated her upon remembering the unintended mewls and whimpers he had drawn out of her in half-consciousness. “Get out!” her snarl escalated to a roar. She reached behind her before hurling a pillow toward him off her bed.

He jumped to his feet, his tensed lips sputtering a string of frustrated profanities and curses at her apparent unexplained outburst, especially after his kind deed. “Fine!” he barked. Spotting his basketball shorts and Spongebob tee slung on her computer chair, he snatched them up. “And I’m taking these back!”

The incubus leapt out her window and disappeared, which she firmly made sure of with her own eyes. The girl threw herself back flat on the ground, flustered, burying her face in her damp palms when she couldn’t strip herself of the lingering sensations of his tongue against her skin.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #armiesnet #kim taehyung #bts #bts scenarios #bts angst #taehyung scenarios #taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts supernatural au

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latent-thoughts · 4 years

Text

The Pursuit of a Simple Life (Chapter 5 - HQ)

[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartz]

Rating: 18+ (there be lots of citrus here).

Warning: None

Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character

Summary: Three years after returning to Earth with the other Asgardians following Ragnarok, Loki finds himself working for SHIELD, truly just trying to fight the boredom. While on an undercover mission, he unexpectedly begins to fall for his co-worker, Gemma, and she seems to feel the same way…about Dave, his alter ego while in disguise. Can Loki continue a relationship with her while keeping his true identity a secret? How many lies can the ‘God of lies’ spin to keep his pursuit of a simple life?

[Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017); THOR IS A GOOD BRO AND TOTALLY NOT HOW HE WAS IN RAGNAROK, THNX; Infinity War Doesn’t Exist; Everyone lives]

A/N: Thor and Loki catch up. Gemma gets excited to see Dave again. A little too excited.

(^^^^Credit to @briannacherrygarcia)

________________________________

IMPORTANT NOTES:

Bold Text = Loki’s POV

Normal Text = Thor’s POV, then Gemma’s POV

________________________________

Thor hung up the receiver with Fury and a slight smile crossed his lips. It had been several months since he and Loki had an opportunity to see each other, and he was honestly curious about how his brother was doing.

This new life as a SHIELD operative seemed to be suiting him well, though Thor was certain he would have become bored with it by now--Loki’s magpie mind was always looking for the next shiny object to attract his attentions. And once he found it, he’d obsess over it, just like always...

Thor chuckled quietly to himself as he headed for the lounge in the R&R area of SHIELD headquarters. He’d been so busy with the diplomatic efforts of giving the Asgardians some kind of legal status and protection, he’d hardly had time to even think about Loki other than the occasional question about how to approach a difficult political situation. It would be good to see him in person.

He reached the lounge, ordered the largest cup of black coffee he could, then sat on the somewhat uncomfortable couch and flipped through emails on his cellular device--as primitive as it was, it did come in handy here on Earth.

Loki walked into the lounge and found Thor uncomfortably spread over a couch, checking his phone. Strange, how he had finally adapted to Midgardian life.

"You need a haircut," he said without preamble, leaning against the couch and pulling at his ponytail. "Hasn't Brunhilde been mocking you relentlessly over it? I paid her to make certain you didn’t let yourself go in my absence."

Thor’s smile widened as he stood.

“Loki! It’s so good to see you, brother!” He brought his wayward sibling in for a hug, wrapping his arms around him in a bear-like embrace. “How are you? You look well!”

Loki tried his best to return the hug, but soon, he was left gasping as Thor nearly squeezed all the breath out of him with his powerful embrace.

"Thor, cannot breathe," he choked out, punching his arm as he laughed.

Once Thor let him go, he shook his head and muttered under his breath, calling him an 'uncultured oaf'.

It was all in good humour, of course. This was how they greeted each other these days. It was far better than greeting each other with violence, at least.

"I am well. Being Midgard's best spy is quite enriching. Though, Romanoff loves to call me a hack and cribs about me having snatched her job." He grinned as he spoke, settling down on the couch with Thor. "Now you tell me. How's New Asgard? Are the people coping better now? And what happened to your attempts at reaching out to a certain astrophysicist for a reconciliation?"

Thor’s throat tightened at the mention of Jane, but he did his best to brush it off and maintain his excitement at seeing his brother again.

“The Asgardians are...adapting, slowly but surely. Certainly the most difficult thing has been learning to live without the use of the advanced technologies we took for granted before...well, you know. But they are healthy, and strong, and resilient. I am proud to be their king.”

Then he returned to his seat on the couch and sighed a bit, taking a sip of the bitter brew.

“And Jane is...well. We speak on occasion, but...sometimes I think just being on the same planet with her isn’t giving her the distance she says she needs.” He looked at Loki with a sad smile, the heartbreak and resignation apparent, though he tried to hide it.

“But I hardly have time to worry about it, what with all the meetings and negotiations lately. I think we’re almost at a point of agreement with the Norwegian government. If things go as planned, we’ll officially have sovereignty over the three small islands we’ve been living on; we’ll be the second smallest country on Earth, only slightly larger than the Vatican. Though that particular government has not been helpful. It’s interesting how religious humans behave when meeting us...”

Thor felt uncomfortable...things hadn’t progressed as he’d hoped, and he fought the ever-present feeling of failure with everything he could. Sometimes it wasn’t enough.

But that didn’t matter right now.

“And how is your current assignment--you’ve been undercover for quite some time with this one. What has it been, three months? Are you nearly done?”

Loki saw the sadness and struggle in Thor's eyes as he spoke before he changed the subject, and it really made him feel a bit guilty for leaving his people behind to go on SHIELD missions. But then again, what could he do staying in New Asgard? The world knew him to be dead, so there was hardly any role for him to fit in.

It was for the best that no one knew of his presence here on Midgard, for it would only jeopardize the chances New Asgard had to be a free kingdom.

"My assignment is indeed coming to an end... soon." He looked down at his hands, thinking of Gemma again as he spoke. "I had to spend some time ingratiating myself into the company, picking apart its secrets. Now that the groundwork has been laid, it's time for the final act. I'll be out of there within a week or so."

“A week? Well then, on to the next exciting adventure, right brother?” Thor slapped him on the back, slightly harder than he knew was comfortable. But he saw that look come over Loki’s face when he mentioned the end of the assignment...that was unusual.

“Is there...something about this assignment that was different? You don’t seem to be as enthusiastic to move on. Perhaps unfinished business or a loose end?”

Loki blanched at Thor's questions. He didn't need him to be perceptive... not now.

"Not really. It's just that, you build a life and live it for more than three months, and it starts to become your normal life. It's just hard to suddenly move on from that, like a hard shift from the first gear of a vehicle to the fifth gear straight." He shrugged, deliberately stalling the conversation as the server brought in his tea.

After they were left alone once again, Loki took a sip of the tea and glanced at Thor, worrying that he was onto him somehow.

"Fury also told me to lay low for a while. I'm trying to think up a new hobby to spend my time on while I wait for a new assignment."

Thor had known Loki long enough to know when he was masterfully evading a direct answer, and the nervous sparkle in his green eyes meant there was much more to the tale than what Loki said. Thor grinned.

“Ah...and what hobbies have you been considering?”

Though he felt like he was setting himself up for disappointment, Thor had an inkling--just a tiny gut reaction--that Loki may have already found that new focus for his attention, and this time, it wasn’t architecture.

"How does clay modeling sound to you?" Loki asked jokingly, laughing at Thor's nonplussed reaction. "Or maybe I should take up cave exploration...I just learned the word for it: spelunking. Isn’t that odd?"

He drank his tea while Thor focused his steady icy blue gaze on him. Norns, he badly wanted to talk about Gemma, but it was far too soon... and he didn't know how he'd pull her back into his life again after the mission was over.

"You seem to be expecting something else from me, brother. I swear, I won't do anything bad. Except mess with Steve Rogers a bit. It's been a while since I’ve done that."

Thor laughed heartily, nodding in agreement. “Yes. Steve has finally stopped looking around the corners before walking down hallways--your last bit of mischief made him quite paranoid.”

Perhaps Loki wasn’t ready to share...but then again, when would be the next time they would get to see each other in person? And...there was always the fear in the back of Thor’s mind that Loki might backslide again, into that terrifying madness that had ripped him away the first time.

Maybe...just one more small push would be enough. After that, he would let it go.

“Is there something I should be expecting, Loki? Anything you might want to speak of that weighs heavy on your heart? I don’t know when we might next see each other, and if I may help to unburden you in some way, please...I’m all ears.”

He laughed at the somewhat disgusted look Loki gave him at the use of that Midgardian colloquialism, but Thor just smiled warmly back.

Loki sighed and put his now empty cup down, finally feeling like he should at least tell Thor about it. After all, there was no one else. They were the only family they both had...

"I met a woman," he said quietly, looking down again. "And I think I'm growing quite fond of her. I took her to my apartment... day before yesterday. She spent the night."

I knew it! He met someone!

Thor’s knowing smile barely concealed his excitement for his brother.

“And...how was it? She’s still in her right mind? All of her limbs are still attached?”

Loki gave Thor an exasperated glare then. But that quickly dissolved into a shared chuckle between the brothers.

"She was fine, just a bit dazed I think. But that's what happens when I take a lover, they just go glassy eyed." He was very aware of the fact that he was describing his own reaction to Gemma as well. But he let it slide, for there were more important things to discuss. "But on a serious note... I feel guilty."

Thor certainly understood why he would feel that way; Loki wasn’t exactly available ...even in his disguise. That persona would be wiped from any and all records as soon as the mission ended.

Thor lowered his voice and leaned toward his brother. “Do you plan to see her again? After the company you’re investigating has been shut down?”

He knew, on the one hand, that it was out of the question--one of those non-negotiable rules of the role he played for SHIELD. But on the other hand, as Loki’s brother...he wanted so much for his sibling to finally have made a connection with someone. So much so, he may have even been willing to encourage an exception if this new woman was becoming more than a fling.

Loki swallowed hard, pursing his lips as he looked around them furtively.

"I want to." He locked his eyes with his brother then, and gave him a pleading look. "Please don't jest about it. And don't share it with anyone. Not yet. I don't know how... but I'm thinking of a plan. I can't just let her go like that..."

Thor’s heart nearly burst with excitement in his chest. So this was serious...serious enough that Loki was already scheming on how to make it...well, how to make something work.

“No jests, Loki.” Thor put his hand on the back of Loki’s neck and pulled him in, so their foreheads nearly touched. “If you feel this woman may be worthy...I will help you however I can.”

Deep down, he had to admit that helping Loki was somewhat selfish...perhaps it would ease his issues with Jane if Loki were to have a female companion.

Loki was a bit surprised that Thor was so readily supportive of him this time. There was no judgment in his words. In fact, he sounded relieved and happy.

"Well, she knows me as this man named Dave, from England." He laughed mirthlessly as he explained his conundrum. "I am not him, and he is not me. But still, my feelings are honest and true. I know that I'm probably fixating on her, but I want to take this chance. I'm just... " He shook his head, looking away once again. "I've been solitary most of my life, and then lonely too. I do want companionship, and Thor... she's so sweet and good natured, everything I'm not. I feel a strange pull towards her. I don't want my job at SHIELD to ruin this."

“I know, Loki. I understand.” Much in the way that Loki fixated on his obsessions, Thor fixated on helping others. And he was especially focused on helping Loki--after all they’d been through, he wanted nothing more than to have that connection with his brother again. And if helping him build a relationship with this woman would do that, then there was no way Thor would let it slide.

“You deserve happiness, Loki. As we all do. We will figure this out. Barton has a family--exceptions have been made.”

Loki nodded, taking a deep breath to calm his chaotic mind.

"Thank you, brother." He put his hand over Thor's and squeezed it. "Your support means a lot to me. Likewise, if I can help with anything, I'm always there. You know that. Distance means nothing to me."

“Yes. Of course, Loki.” He leaned back and waved his cellular device at the God of Mischief. “You can send me an electronic message! Or a textual message! Or we could simply play FarmVille...that pastime can be most infuriating without the help of friends.”

Thor stood and hugged Loki once again, then held his shoulders as he gave him a genuine look.

“I missed you, brother. We will get through this.”

With that, Thor swallowed what was left of his coffee, and bid Loki a fond farewell.

_________________________

Gemma was elated. She couldn’t stop smiling--it was so bad her cheeks constantly hurt. But she didn’t care. She was completely infatuated with Dave...and he seemed to be feeling the same way!

After that night together, they hadn’t seen each other--his schedule had him out of the office often, so it wasn’t surprising. That first day back, she was disappointed to see his empty chair pushed in at his perfectly organized desk...but she did find a small box of what looked like very expensive chocolates at hers, and a note written in the most beautiful handwriting she’d ever seen.

“Hi Gemma. Sorry I missed you. Thought you would like these. Terrible reception where I’m going, might not have signal. Can’t wait to see you again.

Dave.”

Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw them, and the note made her melt...she even moaned a little. And they were the best chocolates she’d ever eaten!

Even though she wasn’t able to reach him on his phone, every day after that there was a little token on her desk--a small vase of flowers, a cute art print to decorate her cubicle, even a gift card to her favorite coffee shop. It was wonderful...but it made her miss him so much. She wondered where he was traveling...and if he was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him...

Now finally, it was Friday. And she almost jumped out of her skin when she turned the corner to her desk and saw him sitting there, his broad shoulders leaning over his desk in that crisp baby-blue Oxford shirt.

She quickly walked over to her desk and put her things away, then booted up her computer, trying to KEEP IT TOGETHER AND NOT FLIP THE FUCK OUT.

“Hey, stranger...” she said quietly, a huge stupid smile stuck on her face. She tried to hide it.

Loki knew that she had seen him the moment she entered the hall. After all, there was that beautiful blush on her face...

He dearly wanted to go over and chat with her, but he just couldn't. He was heavily loaded with tasks, and quite a few of them were related to his mission.

But that didn't stop him from sending her heated looks from across the aisle.

The company was going to be demolished the day after, and hence, he was inundated with work, both farcical and real.

Oh well... he was willing to wait...

After all, he was already planning on how to keep her even after the mission. He wouldn't let her go so easily.

Just as he sent an important message to Fury regarding freezing of the company's hidden assets, he heard Gemma's soft greeting.

Looking up, he saw her standing at his desk, trying her best to look like just an employee... greeting her co-worker.

"Hello Gemma," he said, smiling as he stood up. He couldn't dial down on the heated look, as much as he tried. "How have the last few days been?"

What she REALLY wanted to say was, “Oh my GOD I’ve been wanting to see you every day! The gifts you’ve been giving me make my heart palpitate and I want jump your bones and fuck you in that side office over there RIGHT NOW!”

Instead, what came out of her mouth was: “Oh, you know, fine...”

She really couldn’t hide the giggle in her voice. Every time he spoke, she felt butterflies in her stomach. “Same old, same old. You? Any new clients you’ve landed over the last week?”

She sat at her desk and logged into her email, casually checking on that day’s tasks while blushing furiously and trying to control herself as she waited for his answer.

Loki moved over to her desk and leaned against her cubicle wall as she typed and tried to curb her blush from deepening. She was utterly incapable of doing that.

"A few, yes. But I had a miserable time, traveling here and there," he replied. "I wasn't where I actually wanted to be."

His insinuative answer made her blush even harder. She felt like she was in a fairy tale...who WAS this guy?!

“Yea...me too,” she said softly. “Would much rather have been somewhere else...with someone else. But you know, bills gotta get paid, resumes need to be consistent...so we carry on.”

She turned to look at him, and that 1000 gigawatt smile he gave her almost made her squeal. She took a moment to collect herself, smiled back, and said as cooly as she could, “So, you wanna grab lunch today? I mean, I’m sure you’re busy, but if you have a few minutes, my schedule is pretty flexible.”

"While I am busy, I can certainly make exceptions for you," he stated, never breaking their eye contact. He lowered his voice as he continued. "Where do you want to go, baby girl?"

She was completely speechless. He called her baby girl?! In the office?!

That brought back SOOO many memories. Memories she still could have written off as fever dreams until he said those words…

“Uuummmmm.... I--I...”

Anywhere with you, Dave. I’ll go ANYWHERE with you, do anything with you. Take me, here, now, forever, just let me be yours!

“S-sandwiches?”

Loki almost laughed aloud at her answer. She was so damned adorable, he wanted to pick her up and spin her around.

And then fuck her silly.

But that would have to wait...

"Sandwiches it is," he said with a smirk, pulling away from her desk and heading back to his.

Now he just had to wait for lunch time...

Gemma couldn’t breathe. She had been waiting for this moment all week, and yet, she was STILL in utter disbelief that THE DAVE was interested in her. Not just interested...more than interested. He liked her.

Suffice to say, she got almost NO work done in the ensuing hours. Mostly she stared at her screen and clicked windows open and closed randomly while her thoughts spun with daydreams of Dave...

The memory of their night together...

The memory of the next morning...and the shower...

Imagining having her arms wrapped around his waist as they rode a white horse through the surf on a private tropical island...

Dancing on the streets in a city at night in the snow...

“Gemma?!”

She snapped out of it and turned around to see Oliver standing over her, his prodigious belly protruding so far over the waistline of his pants that her nose almost touched it when she faced him.

And all her happy feelings disappeared.

“Heeeey, Oliver...” she said weakly, with plenty of guilt. She wondered how long he’d been watching her...

“We need that TPX report on the latest cardboard sales figures ASAP, and we’re still waiting on the numbers for last year’s gross revenue versus projections. Do you have those done yet?”

“Um...no sir,” she said, shrinking into herself. Everyone was staring at the confrontation...including Dave. She wanted to die...

“Aha. Well, Ms. Spitznaegel, your performance certainly hasn’t been up to snuff lately. Plan to stay late tonight. I want those reports on my desk first thing tomorrow.”

“But...tomorrow is Saturday—”

“DID I STUTTER, SPITZNAEGEL?!”

Oliver’s perfectly round, bulbous head changed to a shade of purplish-crimson she hadn’t known existed in nature. She balked.

“No sir...I’ll have them on your desk before I leave tonight. I promise.”

“Good. Don’t mess this up, Spitznaegel. You’re on thin ice as it is.”

Then he walked away, leaving Gemma humiliated in front of the entire staff.

_____________________________________________________________

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] Ch-1; Ch-2; Ch-3; Ch-4 [NEXT CHAPTER]

#Loki fanfiction #Loki fanfic #Loki #MCU Loki #TPSL Chapter 5 #TPSL #Loki/OFC #Loki x OFC #romance #fluff #angst #idiots in love #Loki in disguise #false identity #Loki/Original Female Character #Loki x Original Female Character #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction

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harry-lloyd · 4 years

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“Everybody’s happy now,” is the familiar refrain from Aldous Huxley’s classic novel Brave New World, and the phrase becomes the central irony of the adaptation on the new Peacock streaming service. Two of the main characters who immediately begin to question whether their supposed happiness in New London is truly fulfilling are Bernard Marx, the Alpha Plus counselor played by Harry Lloyd (Legion), and Lenina Crowne, the Beta Plus fertility specialist played by Jessica Brown Findlay (Downton Abbey). We spoke with the pair recently about their characters’ personal journeys as their Utopian existence crumbles during the course of the series.

Brave New World opens with Bernard calling Lenina to his office over concerns she’s spending too much time with one man. After all, in the “social body” of New London everyone belongs to everyone else! “At the beginning we’re really seeing her exploring how to get a deeper connection with someone,” says Brown Findlay. “I think at first she thinks maybe if it’s just one person — this taboo idea of monogamy — then I’ll be able to connect with someone in the way that I secretly know I really want to. But… it’s not just one person that will fix it. It’s who it is, how and when you meet, what you discover about yourself before you meet them. Those depths come to Lenina as we travel with her through the story, and she’s certainly so much more complex than in the book. In the book sometimes she gets lost, and in this she really comes into her own.”

The irony, of course, is that Bernard wants Lenina for himself, but he also notices a pattern of dissatisfaction elsewhere in his role as counselor. “There has been this trend towards solipsism and thinking and looking in the mirror and wondering and things that no one does in this society. And Lenina’s been doing that, too,” Lloyd explains. “And more things happen which explores that crack… Are these similar things happening for a reason? Are they all connected? Why is Indra allowing these things or why can Indra not control these things? This is part of the broader questions that the whole series asks.”

Part of what provides the artificial contentment for the caste-based society of New London is the drug soma, which Bernard is able to dispense as needed in Brave New World. “Bernard is a counselor, and he has access to the higher grade soma. He has the oranges and the yellows… it’s the colors of the rainbow,” says Lloyd. “So everyone has access to a blue, and indigo, a violet, a green. And ultimately, it’s the level of anxiety. It’s the distance you feel from your true, happily contented center. So a little blue, a little violet when you’re waiting for a bus or something, but then someone brushes your shoulder — oh, I’ll need a green for that one. But then actually, I’m feeling these strange sentiments of loneliness, and I don’t have the words for it: you need an orange.”

The doubts that Lenina and Bernard share — and they’re not the only ones — go against everything that New Londoners, from the highest Alpha administrator to the lowest Epsilon laborer, have been taught since birth. “Lenina, from the very first conditioning, has told herself that she should be satisfied and that she really shouldn’t be thinking at all,” says Brown Findlay. “She shouldn’t be looking outside of herself because there’s nothing to see outside of yourself. You have everything that you need and want. You are happy! But it’s funny, if anyone does call her Beta, she’s, ‘Beta Plus… if we’re going to use the words.’”

Lloyd appreciates the changes the television version of Brave New World has made to the characters of Bernard and Lenina, among others. “All of the characters have a bit more depth, and they’re all a bit more challenged,” he says. “It’s a more character-led, emotionally driven story than you get in the book. The book is a wonderful exploration of a society, of a moment in an imagined future, but our one goes on more of a progression and challenges that society more. Bernard’s relationship with Lenina is explored further and deeper and what their time in the Savagelands does to them and compounds these feelings of loneliness. I think the show goes deeper than the book in terms of allowing us to see these characters find the words and tools to deal with emotions for the first time that they’ve never had.”

Brown Findlay notes that, although Huxley’s Brave New World was written for a post-Depression audience, the series explores themes that are relevant to today’s world. “There’s something about tearing ourselves apart and putting ourselves back together and a connection with technology,” she says. “The idea that if we are distracted enough or connected enough in a technological way then we’ll feel more enriched and closer, whereas in fact… there’s nothing like being in a room with someone or being able to hug and interact with the people that you love. There’s no getting rid of that in our DNA and how we’re constructed, and that’s what this explores: what happiness and freedom is, and can you have one without the other?”

Lloyd agrees that contentment through distraction speaks to a modern society attached to its mobile technology, and new concepts introduced in the Brave New World adaptation address that idea. “The mass distraction… to a certain extent [Huxley] has in the book with the soma and the frequent casual sex, but by the introduction of this optic interface and the idea of Indra really enhances that in our show and also makes it more relevant. You have adverts in your face, and you can swipe them away; you can change the way you look; you can change someone’s wallpaper. Everything is artificial and manipulatable. So you’re connecting to your friend at any point. The format of that, if not the philosophy of that, is something extra relevant.”

#harry lloyd #interview #brave new world

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gffa · 5 years

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You know how some fandoms just keep piling on the fic, so you’re like, “I’ll just wait one more day, so I can read a few more and include them on the list!” and then two weeks later it’s still happening and you finally have to go, “NO, I HAVE TO YELL ABOUT THIS NOW, NOT IN ANOTHER MONTH.” and yet people still keep posting fic? That’s me yelling at STAR WARS fandom about how much wonderful fic there is and that I cannot keep up with it and it’s the best problem to have! Because, oh, this collection has some incredible fic, so many of them that I want to shove right at people and yell at them to read this amazing thing, and how brilliant this fandom is. STAR WARS FIC RECS: TIME TRAVEL RECS: ✦ Legacy by myrlendi (thehistorygeek), luke & leia & obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, time travel, 105k wip Three months after the Battle of Endor, Luke Skywalker goes in search of a rumoured Jedi temple in a secluded part of the Mid Rim. He finds within the temple nothing but a strange artifact, which unexpectedly brings him much closer to the Jedi of old than he ever thought he would be. ✦ Let’s Try This Again by Nny11, obi-wan & ahsoka & anakin & cast, time travel, 33.5k wip Anakin’s life is shaken up when he finds a small togrutan toddler hiding in a dingy alleyway, after all, she did create a Force bond with him and is apparently his future Padawan. Wizard! PREQUELS RECS: ✦ A Constituency of One by victoria_p (musesfool), padme & obi-wan & anakin & cast, 3.7k Padmé is the one who figures it out. ✦ And the Void Answered Back by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan & anakin & rey & finn & poe & ben & yoda & maz & han & cast, force ghosts, 84.9k wip (Follows the Force ghosts of Anakin, Obi Wan, and friends getting dragged kicking and screaming through the events of The Force Awakens) ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & cody & bail & palpatine & cast, 22.1k wip By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. ✦ Dooku Deserves a Break by nny11, dooku & qui-gon & yoda & obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & cast, 1k Master, it’s time now. The voice was faint and familiar, and it burned. It’s soothing sound eating away at everything. Pain, pain, pain- It went ignored. ✦ The Past Remains by otherhawk, obi-wan & anakin & cody & mace & plo & adi & depa & cast, 15.6k The war drags on leaving trauma and destruction in its wake. After a bereaved Master is accused of harming his padawan, Obi-Wan is sent to talk to her, dredging up memories of his own past. ✦ Not the same fate as mine by liv_k, obi-wan & anakin, 2.6k Excerpts from the journal of a newly minted Jedi Knight. ✦ perfect in so many ways by victoria_p (musesfool), padme/sabe, nsfw, 1k Padmé knows she’s been selfish. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, obi-wan & bant, 1k When Bant steps into Obi-Wan’s room in the Halls, it’s like a balm to his nerves. She’s one of his oldest friends, and her familiar presence is so very soothing. He really has missed her, they see each other too rarely these days, what with the war. ✦ Villain of a Different Story by HiNerdsItsCat (HiLarpItsCat), obi-wan/satine & anakin & cast, 73.2k wip It turns out that there are some perks to being the Chosen One: Anakin finds himself transported five years into the past—only to discover that it isn’t his past, but a completely different one. One where Obi-Wan Kenobi left the Jedi Order, where Qui-Gon Jinn survived… and where Anakin Skywalker is the galaxy’s greatest villain. ✦ Accidental Baby Acquisition: The Obi-Wan Kenobi Way by kitkatkaylie, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast, 8.5k wip Shmi Skywalker was desperate, so when she saw a Jedi in the marketplace of Mos Espa she did something that many would judge her for if they knew but just as many would understand. ✦ A Personal Touch by DragonHoardsBooks, obi-wan & anakin, 6.2k New jedi padawan Anakin Skywalker realizes that there is more to being a jedi then he tought. Discovering a completely new culture will take time and effort, but maybe he’ll make some friends along the way. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, mace & cast, 1.2k “News, I have, from the investigation into the altered mission reports from the Senate.” ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, anakin & ahsoka & background obi-wan & cast, 2.4k The past and the present blurs together, Anakin can hardly breathe through it. Too many thoughts crowd inside his head and the more he tries to sort himself out, the more of the past he remembers and the more fears for the future it brings up. ✦ Passing by Nny11, ahsoka/barriss & luminara & anakin, modern au, 18.3k Barriss claims she’s dating Ahsoka, Ahsoka agrees to go along with it, and both of them spend the next 6 months worrying the other will discover their crush on the other. Nobody is really surprised about this fact besides them. ✦ Jedi of Light by Sannah, obi-wan/anakin/padme & mace & yoda & plo & even & jocasta & cast, 9.4k wip Out of irritation with the war and with permission from the Council, several talk show hosts create a show that airs weekly about the Jedi. They name the show *Jedi of Light,* and go around following Jedi and asking them questions. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ And yet, somehow, a happier ending by liv_k, obi-wan/anakin (pre-slash?), ~1k He had always known that there would be no happy ending waiting for them at the end of the road. And yet, somehow, he felt that this was happier than what could have been. ✦ The Missing Part by Nightstar269, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & palpatine, NSFW, modern au (of sorts), 109.3k wip Anakin Skywalker, a student of mechanical engineering, has always felt that his life was lacking something, a feeling that was made much worse with the deaths of his mother first, and of the woman he loved some time later. Still haunted by the pain and heartbreak, he tries to go on with his life as well as he can. When an initiative of the director of the university has the students attending the classes of another degree so as to enrich their knowledge, he will meet someone that will turn his world upside down. ✦ my push and my shove by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan/anakin/padme, nsfw, crossdressing, d/s, 1.8k There wasn’t much Anakin wouldn’t do to make Padmé and Obi-Wan happy. ✦ Collar by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, 9.4k “You have to be sure, Anakin. Once we’re in, we’re in.” “I think I can handle being your sub, Obi-Wan.“ ✦ Shaak Herding for the Troubled and Lonely by protos_metazu_ison (larkspyt), obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & ahsoka & plo & cast, au, 34.3k wip Disgraced Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was content to live out the rest of his life as a hermit until the Prime Minister appeared at his door, begging him to attend the Skywalker clan’s annual party. ✦ Solstice by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, 8.9k wip After the events of Equinox, Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves back at war with enemies both seen and unseen. ✦ Home by little_tales, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & shmi & cast, time travel, 6.4k wip Time travel fix-it story with a bit of a twist. After his death, Obi-Wan wakes up on Tatooine, in the body of his padawan self. But instead of trying to prevent Anakin from Falling, he decides to change the future by stopping Qui-Gon from ever meeting the little Ani. ✦ Tidbits by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k Things go a little bit differently when Anakin sees Obi-Wan off on his mission to Utapau. ✦ untitled by subskywalker, obi-wan/anakin + implied obi-wan/anakin/padme, nsfw, 1.6k (The easiest way to kill someone? You just need to kill what they love the most.) ✦ 36 Questions by kenobiapologist, obi-wan/anakin + background anakin/padme + implied obi-wan/anakin/padme, 30.7k In a study by psychologist Arthur Aron, they found that strangers would fall in love when asked to answer 36 questions together. ✦ Let’s Be Wrong Together by bluebell26, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 3.1k Anakin Skywalker had a dark secret. He’s been in love with his Master for several years now. He is attached. Yes, attached. It was bad, he shouldn’t, but what his former Master didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. ✦ Untouchable by Blu3sc0rpion, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, non-con issues/themes, 64k wip A mission on Kraysiss-Two takes a turn for the worse. Ancient Sith designs work against both Obi-wan and Anakin as they desperately try to find a way off world. In the throes of confusion their relationship begins to spiral. They might be able to escape, but can they ever truly be rescued? ✦ Seed by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin + anakin/padme, NSFW, 44k When Anakin falls prey to a lethal poison, Obi-Wan has no choice but use all his resources to heal him– no matter how reluctant he is in administering the antidote. ✦ Miasma by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & cody & rex & & kix & cast, dark themes, 20.6k Obi-Wan never believed his best friend and lover Anakin would die first. But he has. ✦ [iasip music] Anakin Explains to His Darkest Timeline Son That He’s Gay by destiny919, obi-wan/anakin & luke & ahsoka & cast, 2.2k "Ah, Padawan,” said Qui-Gon. “The crux of the matter lies in that our world is prey to the spectre of compulsory heterosexuality.” Obi-Wan gasped, horrified. “No! Not that!” ✦ Swear On It by dirkygoodness, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, mild d/s undertones, 6.5k He squeezes his eyes shut tight against it and holds his breath for a moment, trying to get himself under control. Tonight it doesn’t seem to be working, though, because the images of people he knows and loves hurt and bloody and dead just won’t get out of his mind. ✦ Unexpected by planetary_retrograde, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.1k Obi-Wan’s first instinct when Anakin is hiding something is to help. ✦ Hidden Treasures by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin, modern au, 3.9k Ben Kenobi doesn’t look like the type to have tattoos, and Anakin badly wants to see his hidden ink. ✦ He Is the Chosen One by wearethewitches, obi-wan/anakin & cast, fem!anakin, 17.8k Darth Vader dies. Then, Anakin Skywalker wakes in the body of a dead slave woman in 31 BBY, a year before the Occupation of Naboo. ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ Maker by ambiguously, luke & r2-d2 & c-3po, 1.8k Threepio’s processor has an error. Luke and Artoo have to figure out why. ✦ does it bother anyone else that someone else has your name? by suzukiblu, multiple pairings across all of star wars, soulmate marks, 2.9k Drabble series about various soulmates in the Star Wars universe. ✦ brittle, break by glorious_clio, leia & luke & han & chewbacca & rieekan & cast, 8.2k They’re not on Hoth very long, but Leia stands still long enough for it to leave an impression on her. A very cold sort of impression. ✦ sand into glass by glorious_clio, luke & cliegg & owen & beru, 2.2k AU where Cliegg is around for Luke’s arrival at the Lars homestead. Luke has a lot to learn from his grandfather. REBELS RECS: ✦ The Starry Crown by bedlamsbard, ezra & kanan & sabine & zeb & chopper & cast, 8.8k wip Months after Ezra Bridger vanished into the depths of the mysterious Jedi temple on Lothal, he reappears – with Kanan Jarrus in tow. All Hera Syndulla and the other surviving members of the Ghost crew want is to retrieve their missing teammates, but a Jedi who can raise the dead is a prize too great for the Empire to pass up. Palpatine will do anything to get Ezra and the secrets he carries – secrets that may allow the Emperor to control reality itself. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obikin #ahsoka tano #luke skywalker #leia organa #han solo #fic recs

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melodiesofblueroses · 4 years

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Flower Shop (Saeran x Reader)

Warning: Rather lengthy and maybe ooc!

Everyday, right when the doors opened, the same girl would burst into the shop and pick up exactly a dozen pinks. Saeran didn’t think much of it during the first few days it started. She could be buying flowers to enrich her home or gifting them to someone. Days turned to weeks which turned to months. She never failed to come at eight o’clock sharp and pick up the same flowers each day, even when the weather was unfavorable and the roads were iced with a thick sheet of snow in the sidewalks. Her determination was admirable. Maybe that was one of the traits that made him fall for her.

Every day he would notice something cute about her. The way she smiled when surrounded by flowers; the way she avoided looking him in the eyes when paying, as if embarrassed that she was a regular; her furrowed brows when told that there were no pinks left in stock; her sweet hums when walking around the shop, thinking that the store was empty and that no one could hear her. It had been a while before Saeran realized that he had fallen for her. So much of her persona could be told through the actions she took.

Eight o’clock sharp, and the tiny bell above the door rang. He looked up from the chrysanthemums that he was tending to and noticed her. She dressed in casual clothes, as usual, dressing in a beige knit sweater and navy jeans that were worn a bit at the ends. Her smile never faltered. Every day she came in wearing the same warm smile as she went up to the counter to pick up her dozen pinks.

“Your flowers are at the counter,” Saeran announced, watering a few daisies that sat by a window. She looked down at her feet, twirling a strand of hair around her index before muttering a small ‘thanks’ and dropping the money off at the counter. It was another one of her quirks that he had noticed. She tended to bite her lip or the inside of her cheek when nervous or a bit shy and play with her fingers. He had found it a bit cute, but their interaction was nothing short of one between a customer and a salesperson. While their interaction was short and conversation was at most two sentences, Saeran found himself day-by-day growing attached to the mysterious girl. He wanted to find out where she went with those flowers but gradually grew interested in her daily life. What did she do during her days? Did she also enjoy gardening just as much? Perhaps she owned a cute little garden in her backyard which she tended to during her free time. It wasn’t long before he realized that he had fallen for her.

He was seated in a little booth of the small ice cream parlor that was just around the corner from his shop, eating his vanilla ice cream on a cone alone. It was a pretty frigid day outside, but Saeran always seemed to have room for ice cream. Perhaps it was due to the sweet memories of sharing a popsicle with his brother when the two of them were younger. Whatever it was, Saeran seemed most at peace with flowers and ice cream. He looked out the parlor window, watching people pass by and going about their daily lives.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure pass by on a tarnished, yellow bike. It might have been his imagination, but it was the same casual sweater from the morning that was riding the bike. Quickly glancing towards the streetlight, he found her waiting impatiently for the light to turn red, carrying a bouquet of yellow pansies in the basket that clung onto her bike. Saeran was once again intrigued by her figure. She had never spoken more than a few words to him in a quaint voice, so he was curious as to what her voice sounded like. Was it like a cute, soft voice that made him feel relaxed, or was it more like a loud, active voice when she spoke with such enthusiasm about the topics that interested her? For a second, however, she seemed a bit nervous, biting her lip and checking the map she held in her hand. Saeran wanted to go help, but one it would be awkward for him to appear and ask, and two, she would be long gone by the time he got up. A few buses passed by, blocking his view of the lady. When they left, she was gone with them.

The next day, at eight o’clock sharp, he was expecting to see her smiling face as she walked through the glass door. Minutes of waiting turned to hours. This was odd. She still hasn't shown up, and it was a few minutes before closing time. He sat behind the counter, staring at the dozen pinks that lay untouched on the counter. Maybe she wouldn't be able to make it today. But it was peculiar. She never once failed to show up right when the doors opened, yet she hasn't come in all day. Saeran knew that she had her own circumstances, but he couldn't help but find it a bit strange, especially since she had made it every single day, even when the roads were iced and the ground was buried with snow.

Two minutes before closing. He sighed, taking brass keys out of his pocket and walking towards the door to lock it. He didn't know why, but Saeran couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that she couldn't show up today. Something must have happened, right? Maybe she was just tired? But that couldn't be right. Many times when she came in, dark eye bags were prevalent and her smile was lopsided while she would look like she was about to crash any minute. He couldn't help but worry for her, but why? It wasn't as if they ever spoke with one another more than a few sentences. It was just a quick ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye,’ nothing special. Yet, here he was, hoping that she was alright. It puzzled him. Why was he worrying? Thinking about her smile, his cheeks suddenly flushed and he felt heat flow through his body within seconds. His heartbeat started to gain speed.

Damn, he thought, what's wrong with me today? Shaking his head, Saeran plopped the key within the lock and turned it, hearing a satisfying click.

She was too late, unfortunately. By the time the mysterious girl showed up, Saeran was slumped over at the counter, sleeping on the paperwork he had to turn in soon. Sunlight was still present in little amounts, but most streetlights were being turned on right about now. She lightly tapped on the glass window with her knuckles, hoping that he would notice. He still lay slumped over his desk, however, sleeping ever so softly. She smiled at his form. He was so cute when he was asleep. Saeran just looked so relaxed and at peace when he was fast asleep as if every problem he was dealing with just suddenly vanished. She got on her yellow bike she was gifted for her tenth birthday and started riding. She was unfortunately too late today and didn't have a chance to pick up her flowers.

The next day was quite gloomy, a contrast to the previous bright sunshine-filled Friday. He woke up with arms and paperwork drenched in his drool, earning a look of disgust from him. How long was he asleep? Saeran checked the watch on his wrist, alarmed that it was nine in the morning, an hour past opening time. He sighed, thinking of how it would be better to just not open for the day. It was a Saturday after all, and he could probably afford to miss a day. A thunderous clap was then heard in the background, startling the man who was drinking a glass of water that sat on his desk from yesterday. He did a small jump, spilling water on his beige sweater in the process and mentally cursing himself. Soon enough, he got startled again when there was a vicious knock on the glass doors, jumping again and spilling more water. Saeran turned towards the window, a malicious glare in his eyes which only deepened once he saw his older brother standing outside.

“Hey bro, can you let me in?” Saeyoung tried to motion through the window, pointing at the doorknob and making strange movements as if he was playing charades. Too bad he sucked at it. Saeran had no idea what his brother was doing outside his shop at nine in the morning in the midst of a severe thunderstorm. He hadn’t even made plans to stop by, he just showed up out of thin air, which irritated Saeran a little.

“Why are you here?” Saeran asked in a stern voice, allowing a soaked Saeyoung to enter his shop, his wet t-shirt leaving water droplets everywhere on the floor. “And you could’ve at least had the decency to call and say ‘hey I’m stopping by for a visit.’” His arms folded, he waited for an explanation, as if an angry mother scolding her child.

“First off, don’t I at least get some kind of proper greeting?” Saeyoung pouted. “Secondly, I thought it would be nice to stop by for a visit. My shop is right around the corner anyway so it wasn’t as if it was troublesome for me.” The older red-head then went to a lily that was in the corner of the shop, picking one up and playing with its white petals. “Thirdly, it’s not as if you hate these visits.” He’s got a point there. Saeran, in fact, loved it when his brother came to visit. The younger sibling didn’t really have anyone else to converse with, spending his days feeling rather lonely, although it hurt a bit to admit. He did have a bit of an ego.

“Anyway, make yourself comfortable.” Saeyoung smiled and tackled his brother in a hug, leaving a baffled Saeran standing in place. It was very sudden, and Saeran was a bit taken aback, but he hugged back.

“Dammit, you have no idea how much I missed you. You don’t come to visit the computer shop as much anymore. We don’t really hang out, and just...I really missed talking to you.” His embrace grew tighter. “You just seem so distant most of the time, and I sometimes wonder whether you’re annoyed with me or something.” Usually, Saeyoung would be a goof, cracking jokes left and right. This new side of him left Saeran baffled, but he felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t been talking to his brother as much anymore. Truth be told, he was just so busy with paperwork for his shop that he kinda forgot about Saeyoung.

“You don’t have to be so emotional this early in the morning y’know.” Saeyoung cracked a goofy smile at Saeran’s response, releasing his grip to go and make coffee. He was happy that he could spend time with his brother again.

The two brothers spent their morning catching up on things, asking how each other’s shops were coming along and sharing some weird stories. “I once had this customer come in with a camera, and she had a horrified expression on her face,” Saeyoung began. “Seriously, her face was so pale she could be classified as a vampire.” Saeran chuckled and took a bite out of his ice cream. “When I asked what was wrong with the camera, she broke and confessed that she wanted to make a home video for a video production class she was taking and something went wrong.” Saeyoung stopped for dramatic effect, expecting his brother to be on the edge of his seat and ask what happened next. Saeran realized this and decided to play along.

“Then what happened?” Saeyoung was enthusiastic, cracking into a wide smile before continuing.

“So she left it with me, and the camera was totally fried. I thought that I wouldn’t be able to repair it, but as I am the greatest technology person thingy you know-”

“An electronic technician?”

"Sure, whatever, but anyway I managed to find the issue and fix it. So I was looking through the film, or what was left of it, in order to identify what happened. And then, I come across a video that shows when she was washing dishes and how she got the camera close to the water. I thought, ‘Oh God. She dropped the camera in the water.’” He stopped once more for dramatic effect, earning an eye roll from his brother. “When she comes in a few weeks later, I ask her what happened to make sure I was right. Get this, she said that she put the camera in the microwave along with the food in order to get a good angle.” Saeran suddenly burst into fits of laughter.

“What kind of idiot-”

“That’s what I thought, and I was trying to remain calm and composed while she was explaining why she thought it was a good idea to microwave a camera.” Saeyoung was then cut short due to rapid knocking at the door. The two of them turned towards the door to find her, Saeran’s regular, standing outside in the pouring rain. The younger sibling immediately tensed up.

Crap, I forgot about her. Noticing his tense form, Saeyoung raised a brow and took a quick glance at the woman once more.

“Ohhh, I see.” The mischievous red-head smirked, eyeing his brother who had an intense blush on his face. “So, who is this girl you like?” The audacity of him. “How’s she like? Does she know? Are you two in a relationship? I can’t believe that my precious little brother has someone.” He took off his glasses, making a small gesture with his finger as if wiping away a tear. Saeran’s blush only grew in intensity.

He wasn’t entirely sure about whether or not he did have a crush on her though. Whenever she smiled, his heart fluttered a bit. Sometimes he would find himself gazing at her cherry-red lips, silently wishing that he could kiss them. Her eyes were another thing he was fond of. Her eye color complemented her locks, and she shone with a special kind of radiance, one that stood out from others. Saeran often found himself waiting for her to arrive, even if he would see her for a few minutes at most. Whenever he could see the hurt in her eyes, he so desperately wanted to ask what was wrong but decided that it would be rude to impede on her personal life, yet she still smiled the same lopsided smile. He adored that confidence and strength. He didn’t have the courage to fight through the pain with a smile on his face. Oh God, he did like her. Yet, he had just come to the realization now, when his brother brought it up.

“N-No,” Saeran stuttered, making his way to the desk to pick up the dozen pinks he had set aside. They were freshly picked from the small greenhouse he had in the back. “It’s just that she’s a regular.” He went up to the glass door, flowers in hand, and motioned for the woman to come in. “Uh, you’ll catch a cold if you stay outside without a jacket in the rain,” he whispered, looking to the side as if embarrassed and a bit shy. Her hair was drenched and the hoodie she wore stuck to her body a bit.

“It’s ok,” she replied. “I’m just here to pick up the flowers.” Her voice was soft, and Saeran was entranced by it. She spoke with such eloquence although she had barely said a word. Her soft voice was cute in a way, and the way she smiled at the end made Saeran’s heart beat faster. Had he really fallen head-over-heels for this young woman he didn’t know anything about? What was this, some sort of a Romeo and Juliet love story?

“No, I insist. I don’t want you catching a cold.” He moved a bit to the side, gesturing for her to come in. She gave in to his charming smile and went in, a sort of milk-white card in hand that was now drenched in water. “Here, I’ll make some coffee for you to warm you up. Or would you prefer hot chocolate? I-I also have juice if you want.” He stumbled with his words, trying to figure out how he should treat such a beautiful and delicate woman. Saeran had never really had a crush on someone before, so all this was a new experience for him.

He caught Saeyoung off the corner of his eye suppressing a laugh. Was Saeran really trying that hard that it was noticeable? Apparently so as she had giggled. Now he had just made a total fool out of himself. He was embarrassed, flushed red from the tip of his ears to the bridge of his nose and mentally cursing himself for his desperate nature. He didn’t know what had come over him. Did Saeran really want to impress her, maybe confess although that would be a bit awkward? They were practically total strangers, yet here he was falling in love with her.

“A coffee would be fine.” She squeezed her hand, showing signs of shyness which he found adorable. She seemed so pure and innocent, Saeran wanted to embrace her by a fireplace on a cold day like this. Great, he was now having delusional fantasies. “Also, were you closed today, because no one else seems to be in the shop?”

“Ah. Yeah, I had woken up late so I was closing the shop, but you’re fine. Anything for a regular.” Saeyoung, meanwhile, had disappeared to who knows where. Knowing how much of a “great” matchmaker he was, setting Saeran up on blind dates from time-to-time, the older red-head probably left to the back to give the two some room. Who knows, they might just hit it off and this interaction was the start of a loving relationship. “Please, have a seat at the counter.” She made her drenched form over to the counter, taking a seat behind it, feeling a bit awkward as she was always on the other side as a customer. Saeran made his way over with a warm cup of black coffee in hand, setting it down in front of her as well as small square packets of sugar and a small cup of creamer in case she wanted to make it sweeter.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, playing with her fingers while Saeran mumbled a quiet “you’re welcome” and stared off to the side. Both of them were socially awkward at this moment, not knowing what to talk about. Finally, she broke the silence. “Your shop is quite nice. It’s very serene and the relaxing atmosphere makes me feel comfortable here. I don’t know, it might be because of my love for flowers. They just have such a calming presence, and I particularly enjoy being surrounded by them whenever I feel stressed.”

“Ah, really? I also have a love for flowers. I guess you could tell since I own this flower shop, but it’s nice to find someone else who shares this interest.” Saeran bit his fingernail which was already worn down due to the numerous times he has bitten them. He had quite a bad habit of it. He was a bit anxious over this sudden confrontation, but he was a bit happy with it as he would finally get to know this regular a bit more. “By the way, sorry for asking, and you don’t have to answer, but why didn’t you visit yesterday? Well, it’s kinda embarrassing to admit, but I was worried that something happened to you since you visit when the shop opens every day.” Was he that stupid to say such a thing? Once the words left Saeran’s mouth, regret immediately washed over him. What a complete and utter idiot he was, yet a part of him was grateful for asking about her wellbeing. It showed that he did care for her, albeit she was a clutz at times and other flaws were apparent, but that’s what made her unique and quite special.

“I was just busy with some things during the day. I’d rather not go too much into detail.” She gave a distraught look, gazing into her coffee while lost in thought about something. Well, that was a bad question to ask. Her eyes were no longer shining with a sort of brilliance yet was overcome with a feeling of sadness and a tinge of resentment. It was the same thing he felt when he was younger, having been separated from his older brother. The past was the past, however, and Saeran would rather try to forget about those distant memories.

“I’m sorry for asking.” She just smiled and shook her head, signaling that it was fine. How could she still smile through the pain? It ached him on the inside, wanting to so desperately ask how she could possibly smile when something was bothering her. How was she so strong and courageous as to mask her emotions behind a smile? He decided against it. He didn’t know her that well, and Saeran would feel that he was impeding on a sensitive matter.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go now.” She got up from her seat, a small sneeze erupting which Saeran found a bit cute and funny as it sounded high-pitched like a baby mouse. Without much thought, he grabbed his thick black coat from underneath the counter and draped it over her shivering shoulders. A small blush erupted onto her cheeks, taking the coat off and handing it back to Saeran. “Sorry, but I can’t take this. You need it, and besides, I’m already wearing an oversized sweater so I’ll be fine, probably.” The man just draped it over her shoulders again.

“You’ll get a cold, and you’re going out while I’m here in the shop. You need this more than me, and you can always give it back when you come visit another time.” Thinking of how it would be no use to argue back, she hesitantly accepted the offer and made her way through the doors, carrying the bouquet of pinks in hand. She muttered a small “bye” and quickly walked out, a large blush on her face that she tried to cover by snuggling into the warmth of the oversized coat.

Saeran stood in front of the glass door for a while, silently cursing himself for his awkwardness. And he forgot to ask what her name was. Great, just great. “So, who was that?” The enthusiastic voice of his brother popped up from the back, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. Saeran glared at him, proceeding to ignore him and go lay his head on the counter while contemplating his decisions.

A few weeks passed by and everything was seemingly normal. Saeran thought about his small crush and whether or not he should confess, although that would be creepy since they barely knew each other. She would come in every day like normal, pick up her pinks, then quietly leave. He had gotten his coat back, and every time he put it on he could feel a sliver of her warmth attached to the insides of the coat. Or maybe it was the thought that she had worn the coat, but Saeran didn’t really mind. He was more confused about why he liked her. Sure she was pretty and had a sweet voice, but what about her specifically. Saeran hadn’t really thought of it until his brother had brought it up.

“Well,” Saeran started, sitting in a small booth while meeting up with his brother again. “She has pretty eyes I guess.” Saeyoung nodded, motioning for him to continue on. “Well, her voice is soft and cute. Um, sometimes I kinda just want to put a string of hair behind her ear and tell her how pretty she is.” His brother gave him a bewildered look, possibly creeped out from his list. “Ugh, I just don’t know.” Saeran slammed his head against the table, sulking a bit as he tried to list off why he was attracted to the mysterious customer. “It’s just...I don’t know why but everytime I see her, my heart speeds up and there’s a small blush you could see on my face. Whenever she comes in through the door, I have to suppress this big grin but I don’t know why. It’s as if my body just told me ‘yeah, she’s the one.’”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, but it sounds like you do like her although you haven’t really specified why.” Saeyoung got up and stretched a bit. “Anywho, I got to get back to my shop-and speak of the devil she’s here.” Saeran’s ears turned a bit red at this mention, lifting his head off the table to scan the cafe for any signs of her. Sure enough, she was there, three seats in front of the brothers writing something in a notepad.

Before Saeran could even utter a word, Saeyoung left the shop, winking at him and giving a thumbs up. Well then. Although Saeran had little confidence in his social skills, it was now or never. He was going to go up to this cute girl and finally converse, maybe ask her out or get her number if things went well.

“Hey,” he greeted, which earned a mental facepalm. God, why was he just so awkward. I mean, yeah, he never was one to chat with others, and he did have a rather rough past that he was able to overcome after loads of therapy, but why couldn’t he talk for God’s sake?!

She looked up from her notepad, smiling that damned lopsided grin that never failed to make Saeran’s heart skip a beat. Yet again, however, there seemed to be a tinge of sadness in her smile. “Oh, hey! I never did catch your name although we see each other every day.”

“Oh, ahh, I’m Saeran.” He took a seat at the booth and scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact.

“(MC). By the way, do you by any chance sell tiger lilies? I’ve never seen them at your shop before.” She started to bite the eraser at the tip of her pencil, chewing it as if in thought or waiting for Saeran to answer.

“Yeah, I do, except I keep them in the back. I don’t have too many people ordering them, so I usually only reserve them for special orders. Do you need any?” Yes, he didn’t grow that many tiger lilies, but if (MC) wanted some then he sure as hell will give them to her, free of charge.

“No, it’s just that my customer wants about a dozen of them.” She started tapping the pencil against the tabletop, quite irritated at the thought of the aforementioned customer. (MC)’s face then lit up, as if she forgot to mention something. “I deliver flowers by the way. It’s just a part-time job I picked up to help pay for my university tuition. I know it’s not much, but it’s been helping somewhat. Every penny counts, you know?”

Saeran nodded. He never did attend university, instead opting to take a few classes on business and gardening before opening up his own shop. The costs were massive even with those few classes. In short, college is hella expensive. Who could afford all those costs?

The two continued to chat for a bit, making small talk and getting to know a bit about each other. Saeran was truly grateful for this opportunity. After about an hour, he decided to bring up a question that he was always meaning to ask.

“So, forgive me for intruding on your personal life, but why exactly have you come to my shop almost every day at the exact same time and ordering the same exact thing?” Gosh, he was so softspoken and awkward. But this was needed.

“Oh, this is kinda awkward,” she rubbed the back of her neck, Saeran immediately regretting ever speaking. “Um, please don’t think that this is weird, but it’s because I always wanted to see you before I began my day. I’m just too socially inadequate to go up and start a conversation, however, so I just settled with buying pinks that I don’t need. I mean, sometimes my customers do want them, but it’s mainly because I really love seeing you. When I first walked into your shop, I took one glance at you and thought, ‘damn, that’s a fine-looking snack right there.’” She chuckled after her ramble, face visibly red.

Saeran was over there dying on the other hand. She...she thought that he was cute? Um, excuse me? His heart beat furiously, threatening to jump out of his body at any minute. His soul has transcended, beginning to leave for the afterlife. His feelings were reciprocated. Is this what heaven looks like? Sitting right in front of your crush who just confessed, both of your faces red and body temperature running so high that it could be mistaken for a fever?

She continued on. “It’s just that...my life has been, well, shit over the past few months.” She started to play with her nails and bit the inside of her cheek. (MC) was getting all nervous again, as Saeran could tell from her actions. He had studied her enough to be able to read her emotions. She wasn’t a good hider as it turns out. Saeran remained silent, allowing her to go on as if silently comforting her that he was there to listen to her. He wanted to be someone with who she could be open.

Saeran had gone through therapy due to his rather rough past. He knew what it was like to be abused, to feel as if there was no opening to escape the dark pit you are stuck in. Without his therapy, Saeran feels as if his life wouldn’t have gotten better. His mom was abusive to both him and his brother; their father was of a high position and never once acknowledged that they were his sons; he was manipulated into a cult, only to be further abused; and above all, he felt as if his dear brother had abandoned him. While he was in a better place today, the past still lingers, clinging onto him as if whispering that he can never let it go.

“This one particular customer just berates me and will always find a mistake I’ve made in the order. Like, ‘oh, I ordered thirteen roses but you only bought a dozen.’ Or ‘this flower is slightly discolored. What are you thinking about giving me such a sick and unsightly flower?’ Then she just goes on to call me names, saying how I should be fired.” (MC) had tears in the corners of her eyes.

“And it’s hard to just take it in, you know?” She continued on, her tears silently falling. “It’s hard to deal with this stuff when your self-confidence has already hit rock bottom, and you think it can’t get worse, but oh boy there’s a shovel and now we’re digging even deeper!” (MC) was practically sobbing at this point.

“I’m such a worthless piece of human trash. I can’t even pass my university classes because my dumb professor is all like ‘you forgot a comma here’ or ‘this class is too hard for someone of your intellect’ as if she’s doubting my intelligence. Then parents are all up on my ass about how I don’t know what I want to major in yet. ‘Oh, you should go to med school’ or ‘how could you not know your interests yet? You’re just wasting your time and money. You should just drop out and marry a rich man.’”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” Saeran had moved over to her booth. Yes, he was awkward, and yes, he had no idea what he was doing, but he had to comfort her somehow. “You’re just going through a rough patch right now.” (MC) then hid her face in his shirt, hiding her tear-streaked face as Saeran awkwardly placed a hand on her head, stroking it gently.

“Don’t listen to those people, (MC). You’re a strong-willed woman. You’re just going through hard times, but everything will soon be better. Once you’ve hit rock bottom, the only place you can go is up. Listen, I’m so proud of you.” The crying seemed to have toned down a bit, much to Saeran’s relief. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was helping. He had always been the one to have advice given to him, not the other way around.

After a few more inspirational (and quite cringy according to Saeran) talks, (MC) seemed to be feeling better. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks had dried trails of tears, and her nose was quite runny, but (MC) wasn’t crying anymore.

“Thanks, for everything,” (MC) said, cheeks a bit red as she twirled a strand of hair with her finger. She seemed to be embarrassed that she had cried in front of a stranger she barely knew anything about. “That was the first time I had someone comfort me, so thank you. I usually just bottle up my emotions, but I guess it became too much this time.” She softly chuckled, trying to make a joke about the whole ordeal. God, she was just so embarrassed.

“Hey, it’s fine. I wish I had someone to say these things to when I was dealing with something similar. We all need to express our emotions somehow.” Saeran smiled, genuinely smiled. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had smiled this much was. God, this girl just made him feel things he wasn’t exposed to. “Anyway, we’re friends now, right? You can talk to me anytime you need anything.”

“Mm, thanks, honestly. Same here.” The two sat in awkward silence, unsure of what to say next, until finally, Saeran spoke up, deciding that it was his turn to make a move.

“Soo, you want to hang out next week?” There was an imminent blush on his face, eyes looking to the right as to avoid her facial expressions. He then heard a soft giggle.

“I’d love that.”

#mystic messenger #saeran choi #x reader #romance #mc #short story

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atlasxrose · 4 years

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Tagging: Atlas Rose, (Mentions of @astraearose), (Mentions of Werewolf WC), Isaac Wright (NPC). Time Frame: April 7th, 2014, Early to Late Evening. Location: North Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada Notes: When Atlas met Isaac. tw: kidnapping, tw: blood, tw: murder

There was no sound atop the lookout over the Quay, the witch, his sister, and their childhood friend had parted ways shortly after getting into town. The wildling witches and their wolf companion had been sneaking into cities for years, usually passing their time together, occasionally parting ways to take in sites as individuals, rather than a trio. The red metal scaffolding of the lookout towered over the harbor, Atlas liked it here, coming to the Quay first only a few years ago. The coastal regions were among his favorite. And this province was no exception, the varying islands, cultures and communities were inviting, enriching, and these neighboring cities in particular were rich with international travelers and immigrants from varying walks of life.

He’d already met so many interesting people.

He watched the boats as they came and went, the ferry that shuttled commuters and tourists across the channel to the capital across the water. He’d only been to Vancouver once before, had he more time Atlas might have considered boarding the ferry, he was sure that if he tried he could scrape together whatever money he needed to do as such. But the sun was already beginning to set, and the trio had a long trek back to the Coven, their absence would not go unnoticed.

“Beautiful night, isn’t?”

Atlas turned at the voice of a stranger, almost immediately feeling an intrusion in his peripheries. The young oracle was still naive enough to not recognize the potency of the darkness that emanated from the man’s aura, the corrupt pervasive nature of the other’s magic. Atlas furrowed his brow for a moment, knowing only that the man had magic of some kind, he wasn’t like the witches from Atlas’ Coven, nor any other that he’d come across over the years. But there was power there, the oracle could not deny that, and there was a part of him that was curious.

He was attractive, definitely too old, but duly handsome. There was a sense that he was also much older than he appeared, an aging soul that did not quite match the thirty-something year old man that stood before him now.

“It’s going to rain later, but yeah, I guess.” Atlas returned, not particularly interested in conversing with a stranger, though there was something bizarrely familiar about this one. The past few months he’d been bothered by horrifying dreams, and they were always the same; he was being hunted, through an unfamiliar forest. With trees not native to the soil where he grew up. A pack of jackals pursued him, cackling and howling in the night. He was always running, and he was always afraid. Powerless under the burning red light of a blood moon.

His and Astraea’s birthday had passed just a week ago, it was their eighteenth, the witches had at last come of age. While the Coven celebrated, Atlas had silently lamented his fate, tortured worst of all that night by the same prophetic dream from which he could not wake. The jackals caught him that night, and under the moon they tore the oracle to pieces, feasting on his flesh before the oracle awoke, screaming in pain.

grandmother, Atlas had asked. what does this mean?

A darkness comes for you, my sweet one. You must be careful.

Had Atlas truly headed his visions, had he listened to his grandmother’s advice, then he would have stayed home with the coven as he was supposed to. There was a dozen tasks he could have committed himself to instead, he had a blanket tapestry that was only half finished, the threads of his families’ tree overlaying in emerald green leaves and earthy bark, sapphire blues of a glistening ocean and a clear blue sky punctuated by distant storm clouds.

Being in the presence of this stranger made him long for that familiarity now. Where was Astraea? Where were the companions he’d come here with.

If he had truly headed his visions, had Atlas listened to his grandmother’s advice, then he wouldn’t have separated from them when they’d gotten to town. In the years to come, Atlas would blame his brazen youth, his curiosity for the dark, he wanted to face these jackals that tormented his dreams. He wanted to know what hunted him. Atlas wished to face his fears, and overcome them, but monsters were more than fears, they were more than sounds going bump in the night. Sometimes they came with the sharp teeth of jackals, but mostly they appeared as a stranger, with a smile that invited you to trust.

“You think so?” The man asked, “But the clouds are clear.” He moved to lean over the railing next to Atlas, though the oracle’s eyes were fixed on the strong lines of definition across hardened features.

“I can always tell when it’s going to rain.” Atlas mused, taking his eyes away from the stranger and moving towards the sea, only barely catching sight of a peculiar ring around the engagement finger of the man’s left-hand as he did. This individual was married, so it seemed. Though the ring was unlike any that the witch had seen before.

“I’ve always loved a good storm.”

Atlas said nothing, wondering if silence would lead the man to carry on, before the witch had to make his own awkward departure.

“Sorry, I should introduce myself, I’m Isaac, I live just across the water. There.”

He pointed over the Fraser towards the metropolitan center of Vancouver, he could have been pointing to any one of the high rises or condominiums, Atlas couldn’t have been sure. But he was a local. It was strange because the witch could have sworn he’d seen him before, more inland, maybe a month or so ago before the coven had moved to the forests in the mountains along the coast.

“Atlas.” The witch offered, shaking the man’s hand as it was offered to him. He felt a chill run down his spine, another warning, and after a beat too long, Atlas’ hand was slipping from the others. “But I should be going,” the sun was setting over the river now, bathing them both in an orange hue. “it’s getting late.”

“Shhh,” Isaac reached forward, and Atlas felt his breath leave his body, darkness following soon after. In the distance he heard his voice, “what’s your rush?” Then there was nothing but the sensation of falling backwards, sinking until he was caught. Strong uncaring arms.

While he slept, he dreamed now of a falling star, burning and crashing towards the Earth. As it fell, all the Gods wept as it burned and seared past them, out of reach even for divinity. When he hit the ground he was in this unknown forest once more, still burning he was not the hunted but the hunter. Running on all fours, screaming and cackling and crying as his feet struck the earth, drawing him forward though he had no desire to move. He wished to flee. He wished to drown himself in the lake. He wished to be home. He wished to wake.

They caught their prey, a traitor in their midst.

Atlas awoke in the hold of a ship, outside his porthole he could see the ocean as it lapped at the glass. It was farther away somehow than he thought it should be, without being told, Atlas knew where he was, he needed only to find the one who called to him now. His vision had troubled him and while usually it was the witch’s nature to recoil into himself, Atlas instead sought out the man that had been at the center of his vision. Loyalty and love drew him from the chamber, the initial room where he’d been held was not locked, unlike the others that lined the hall outside. As Atlas passed the doors he heard the screams of those trapped within, felt their power, some he recognized, others the witch had never encountered before.

He rose from the ship’s bowels, entering a room that he knew would be his new home, feeling every bit as attached to it as he had his own room back home. With his coven, with his family. With Astraea. There was nothing of his old life here, no personal affects for the witch to form an attachment to or bond with, yet he loved the bedding for its comforts, he loved the clothes for their fit and style, the magical relics that were now his, the power that was at Atlas’ fingertips. Forbidden secrets and instructions regarding blood magic and the divining arts. Everything the oracle would need to be of service to his master, to a one true, everlasting love.

Atlas washed the journey from his body, scrubbed the ocean salt free from his skin, the sand his body had been dragged across while he slept, healed the scratches formed from small stones and gravel. He dressed to please, wearing something his master would approve of, finding vanity in the darkness of a situation he no longer had any capacity to comprehend. Atlas loved the man he now served, every bit of the oracle’s being was devoted to him, and before he could present his master with his vision, he needed to first be presentable. After all, his master was hosting the others this evening, and Atlas was to be presented before them.

Without being told, the oracle knew this to be true. Knew it because of the ring of servitude that had been slid around his finger after he’d been rendered unconscious.

Atlas climbed the stairs and entered the ballroom, ornate lighting hung overheard as the oracle entered the masquerade, a mask neatly fitted over his face. He wove through the crowd, some enchanted, some not, some there on their own volition, others not. Atlas approached the head table , Isaac sat at the center, his eyes fixed upon the oracle as the rest of the coven lined the table on either side. Totaling eight, with nine seats. Atlas would come to learn that it was Isaac’s own twin sister that sat to his right, and the chair to his master’s left was reserved exclusively for the oracle.

Atlas leaned in, whispering:

Your traitor wears the jackal’s mask.

It brought Atlas some pleasure to see the note taken so easily, Isaac merely nodded and the witch took his rightful place at his master’s side. His raven mask perched neatly across his brow, his hazel eyes watched the room as the final song drew to a close and the dancing slowed. Isaac rose, he had the attention of the room. They were witches, humans, wolves, individuals who had aligned themselves with power, but Atlas knew that those, apart from him, that sat at the table were genasi. Once from a powerful familial coven of air witches, one by one they had turned themselves into genasi. The eight who sat at the table were all that had survived. A century had passed, and over the years they had gathered wealth, power, and a following who wanted only to be near their power.

This vessel was meant as a gathering place for all of them, something that happened maybe only once a year, though it was Isaac’s stronghold first and foremost. The blood wardings were ingrained within the metal itself, Atlas could feel the magic in the air, there was magic at work here. It was not one that he recognized, and Isaac had not simply given him the answers. It seemed the oracle’s fate to learn through observation, though he could guess easily enough the fate of a traitor.

“My brothers and sisters,” Isaac addressed, “tonight is indeed a night for celebration, the blood moon favors us, and has presented us with a new oracle to join our ranks.” The room applauded Atlas, who remained seating, eyes trained on the masquerade before him. “But we cannot forget to mourn the one we have lost,” Atlas knew he was speaking of his predecessor, though the thought that his life was in danger never once crossed his mind. The darkness, his grandmother had spoke of, might have been a lifetime away.

His sister. His friends. They were memories now, ones Atlas felt no attachment towards.

Isaac was his family now.

“Come forth Telemachus.” Isaac commanded, there was a whispering about the room before the finely dressed individuals parted to reveal a man, some years older than Atlas, step forward. A jackal fixed firmly to his face.

Isaac disappeared in a puff of black smoke and whooshed forward, winding around this Telemachus to appear before him. A blade was in his hand now, ornate and runed, Atlas could feel the power pulsing from it. Blood magic. This blade was one that had been used in sacrificial rites, Atlas had seen such tools before, but they were reserved for offerings and only used by individuals in the coven who weren’t so tempted by the power of blood magic.

“How do you answer for your crimes against the Coven? Do not lie Telemachus. I already know that it was you who murdered -”

Aware now of his fate, Telemachus shouted, “Death to the genasi! Don’t you see they’ll doom us all!”

In a moment, Isaac had dissipated in a wisp of black smoke and enveloped Telemachus, he slipped inside of the witch and Atlas rose from his seat as Isaac took possession of the older Greek. The blade now in Telemachus’ hands as dark veins encompassed his eyes, they’d changed from the steel gray of Telemachus old eyes to the dark irises that Atlas had first met on the Lonsdale Quay.

Words of ancient blood magic fell from his lips before Telemachus drove the blade into his own stomach and split it open, letting his innards fall to the ground as smoke rose from his frame, reforming as Isaac stood over the blood and viscera. Atlas drew closer, unphased by the grotesque flex of power and brutal display of gore, the likes of which the witch had only seen before when the coven had to butcher a pig, a deer, or an elk.

“Telemachus murdered one of his own.” Isaac said easily as the crowd gasped, there was whispering, but none would stand against him. They all had their reasons for being drawn to the respective genasi that they served, each had a seat at the head table, and each served the man that addressed the room now. None now more faithfully than Atlas. “Tell me Oracle, what do you see?”

Atlas drew his hands over the organs that had been spilled to the ground, whispering words of power that were meant to incite knowledge and information. He aimed to move the Gods to action, beseeching them to speak, the oracle was the portal for which the movements of the Gods could be perceived, and with this power combined with Isaac’s magic driving him forward, there was nothing the witch would not command of them, on his master’s behalf.

“The Coven will rise in power, but not in infamy, and all that you desire, will at last be yours.”

#tw: kidnapping #tw: kidnap mention #tw: blood #tw: murder #tw: gore #self para #about #history #age 18 #act i #aesthetic

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swhurtcomfort · 5 years

Text

Fall Apart, Fall Together --- Chapter 5

Chapter 4 AO3

.......................

While Obi-Wan meditates, grappling with the Force for a clue as to Anakin’s whereabouts, Padmé takes matters into her own hands. She digs up the visitor log from her own medical file and finds the identity of the person who dropped off the note for Anakin. A quick holonet search informs her that it is one of the Chancellor’s personal assistants. There’s no doubt in her mind that that’s where Anakin has gone.

“Come on!”

She drags Obi-Wan by the wrist, startling him out of his trance.

They arrive at the Senate complex, running past the sounds of ambulance speeders in the street.

Padmé heads straight for the commotion in front of the main entrance to try to see what happened. Obi-Wan follows, scrunching up his face as if it were too loud.

“Padmé,” he says, his voice strained in a way that scares her. “He’s inside. And he’s in pain. I—”

Obi-Wan breathes in sharply. The color starts to drain from his face.

“What, Obi-Wan?” Padmé demands. He doesn’t answer. “Screw it, just come on then, I know a back way in.”

Obi-Wan allows himself to be led along, holding his head. Padmé takes them around a corner and uses her access chip to open a side door

Once inside, Obi-Wan slumps back against the wall, grimacing.

“Are you ill? Is it some kind of Force thing?”

“The fourth floor,” he chokes out. “Go, hurry,”

He looks like he’s in pain. He’d said Anakin was too. Padmé promises to return soon with Anakin, then hurries towards the lift.

On the fourth floor, the hair on Padmé’s arms starts to stand up. She wishes suddenly that she’d brought her blaster. Then, just as quickly, she is thankful that she didn’t.

It isn’t hard to find Anakin. He is waiting by another lift, wobbling impatiently on the balls of his feet. He doesn’t appear to be suffering as Obi-Wan was. When he hears her approach, he turns stiffly, and Padmé’s blood runs cold.

“Ani!”

“Padmé,” he says in a low voice. He accepts her hands into his. “E-Everything is going to be alright now.” He doesn’t sound sure.

“Yes,” she says. “It is. Ani, let’s go somewhere far away from here.”

“No. Masters Windu and Fisto are upstairs. They’re going to arrest the Chancellor.”

Padmé freezes, caught off guard. “On what charges?” Anakin doesn’t answer. “What do you know?!”

The lift opens, and he steps inside. “Wait for me here.”

“No.” Padmé throws her arm across the automatic doors so they won’t close. “Ani, are you going up there to help them, or stop them?”

He trembles, jamming the door-close button even though it’s futile. “I-I don’t know.”

“Anakin, don’t be rash,” says Padmé. “The Jedi Council is…often misinformed, but they aren’t dictators.”

Anakin takes a small step towards the platform. Padmé needs to get him out of that lift. She continues, “Whatever’s going on, we can entrust to the republic. To justice.”

“I’ve had enough of the Jedi Council’s justice!” he spits. Just for a moment, a strange light flickers across his eyes.

“What do you mean? Obi-Wan wants you to speak with them tomorrow, he said he thinks he can reason with them on your behalf. You’re lucky to have an ally—”

Anakin’s eyes flicker again, decidedly yellow this time with renewed rage when she says his name. “Obi-Wan was in favor of what they’ve done to me—”

“What have they done?” Padmé asks. “And what do they think the Chancellor has done?”

“—and I didn’t see him sticking his neck out for Snips, either did you?”

Padmé shakes her head. On that they can agree. “He wants to help us, Ani. Something is happening, something in the Force and it’s hurting him. Is it hurting you too? Is it Dark?”

Anakin steps out of the lift onto the platform, holding Padmé’s hand. But he looks back over his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. I need Palpatine’s help—it doesn’t matter what he is. That’s how we’re going to save the babies.”

“They don’t need saving,” says Padmé. “And neither do we.” She lets go of the doors, and lets the lift shoot upwards without them.

……

Bail gives Padmé the full story, but even if he hadn’t, it’s all over the holonews. Three Jedi died in the Senate complex that day, and a fourth—Windu, according to most sources—is under investigation for his role in the Chancellor’s death. Most believe he will be held guiltless, security tapes clearly showing his actions to have been in self-defense.

Obi-Wan had recovered his faculties by the time Anakin had made up his mind, and rushed to help an injured Windu to the Jedi Healers while Anakin and Padmé slipped off unnoticed. There are rumors that Obi-Wan and the 212th were almost immediately sent off-planet again. Bail’s informants can’t agree on where they have gone—at least, until a new story breaks and the holo footage of him discharging a blaster neatly into Grevious’s heart is playing on every channel, practically on loop.

The galaxy is in tatters. The tide of the war has turned on a dime, and the majority of its citizens don’t understand why.

Several days later, Obi-Wan finds his way back to the medcenter. Padmé supposes it was inevitable.

“Are you ever going to pick up your comm, Anakin?” he asks, entering the room without waiting to be invited.

“Depends who’s calling,” Anakin retorts.

“They’ve grown quite a bit,” Obi-Wan gestures to Luke, lying on his stomach on Anakin’s bare shoulder.

“That’s what babies do.”

They lapse into uncomfortable silence.

“The Council…” Obi-wan begins, and Anakin stiffens. He soldiers on. “The Council wants to commend you for finding the Sith, Anakin. There will be no more talk of disciplinary action for any breach of the Code that might have occurred. It is an invitation, no questions asked.”

Anakin lifts his gaze, almost daring to hope. But he sees Obi-Wan watching him hold his infant son, and he knows it isn’t going to be that easy.

“They are my family,” he says simply.

“The Jedi are our family,” Obi-Wan counters, a note of frustration slipping through his façade.

“What do they want me to do, abandon them?”

“Arrangements can be made to ensure that Padmé and the twins are comfortable. You would do best to formally request not to be assigned to any more missions in the Senate, moving forward.”

When Anakin doesn’t immediately respond Obi-Wan continues, “And in a few years, if Padmé wishes them to be raised in the crèche, I’m sure the Order will be enriched by their talents, but you will limit your contact. Or at least be inconspicuous about it. Attachments fade, Anakin. I know it is painful.”

Bitterness wells up in Anakin. He wants to have it both ways, but he knows he can’t – Obi-Wan doesn’t have to be so obtuse. Luke starts to cry.

“You say you know, but have you ever found something worth leaving for? Do you know what that feels like?”

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “There have been times…but I was wrong, Anakin. There have been times I’ve considered it—wanted it desperately, but I have always chosen the Order.”

“I guess we can’t all be perfect Jedi.”

“Anakin,” says Obi-Wan, tears brimming in his eyes. “You are a fine Jedi—”

“Not anymore,” he says quietly. "I can't be, and I don't want to be." There is a different path before him now. He braces himself for the incoming lecture, but there is no anger flowing from Obi-Wan’s Force presence, only deep sorrow.

“Then you are lost,” says Obi-Wan.

Anakin turns to hand the sobbing Luke to a nurse, because his own hands won’t stop trembling.

Obi-Wan slowly pulls two objects from within the folds of his cloak and leaves them on a table before he turns to leave, averting his gaze. They’re two little beanbag toys in the shape of tiny bantha.

Anakin shuts himself in a closet and allows himself to break down in angry tears.

……

The war is over. They have a chance to breathe, and a chance to grieve.

Anakin’s sleep is deep and dreamless these days, but he lies awake wrestling with questions, and with choices. Wonders if it’s okay to miss Obi-Wan and be so unfathomably angry with him at the same time. Wonders whether it’s okay that he kind of misses Palpatine. He misses the idea of a benevolent grandfatherly confidant, even if the logical part of his brain understands that that person never existed—that Sheev Palpatine was always Sidious in masquerade. Wonders how it could have all gone differently.

Padmé is quickly realizing how many complicated questions this shift has created, and she’s itching to do something about them. Bail is heading up a subcommittee on the legal rights and future settlement of the clone troopers, Mon is appointed interim Chancellor and hard at work organizing a referendum, and Padmé hears news from Sola about sticky situation of filling Palpatine’s seat back on Naboo. But there are also more pressing concerns, starting with her own health. The first month of the babies’ lives has been so regimented and clinical, Padmé and Anakin both mourn the loss of all the ‘normal’ rituals of new parenthood. But the medcenter staff encourage them to be as involved as possible in feeding and changing and caring for the twins. They hold them whenever they can, and read and sing to them when they can’t.

The day finally comes that the little family is ready to leave for Naboo. They do so in a free galaxy.

Padmé has been watching Anakin all morning. She knows he is hoping Obi-Wan might come to see them off, but privately she wishes he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

“You’ve checked the transport half a dozen times, love. Come sit down.”

Anakin sinks down into the seat next to hers. The babies are sleeping, buckled safely into their seats.

Padmé takes his hand and squeezes it. He sighs and kisses the top of her head.

...

Go to Chapter 6

#anidala #anakin #padme #obi-wan #fix it au #star wars fic #one more chapter to go!#i promise there will be emotional resolution w Obi-Wan #I'm not that mean lol #mpost

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texanredrose · 6 years

Text

Oh, My Mistake

“we’re texting for the first time in forever and i told you about some stupid thing i did and sent a sarcastic ‘you must really miss me, huh’ and you just replied ‘yes’ and i think my heart just broke” au- for Xerxes, thank you for your kindness!

Yang cursed under her breath, setting her hands on her hips and casting her lilac gaze around, a pinch to her brow. Now, sure, she’d never been the absolute biggest neat freak in Remnant, but she kept her belongings more or less organized- enough that, when she wanted to watch one of her favorite movies, she could find it with ease. It could only be in one of three places, all of which she’d checked.

No dice.

“Oh, come on,” she said, running a hand over her face. “Where is it?”

Closing her eyes, she tried to piece together the last time she’d watched it or moved the case. Months ago, at least, but maybe even more.

Wait... now she remembered the last time she’d seen it- almost a year ago. Back before... her ex moved her stuff out.

“Shit...” Her lips pulled into a tight, thin line, gaze casting about for her scroll.

They hadn’t spoken since the relationship ended but... well, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. Winter had an exciting career in the military and a promising new assignment elsewhere; Yang had her own shop and family to consider. When the woman suggested that they probably wouldn’t be able to continue the relationship long distance, they’d ended it amicably... but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Yang had tried going out on a few dates since then. None of them led anywhere but, hell, she had tried.

Still, the idea of reaching out to her ex to see if the woman had accidentally packed up her favorite movie didn’t magically become any more appealing. It’d likely just hurt like hell and lead nowhere but she really did love that movie.

She should just buy a new copy, honestly. It’d probably be pretty cheap; older movie, none of the flashy special effects like modern ones, and it’d be quicker and relatively painless.

Then again, she kinda had a special attachment to her copy; she’d had it nearly ten years. And, even if it hurt, just having the chance to talk with Winter again... it’d be worth it.

With a sigh, Yang located her scroll and shot off a quick text.

‘Hey, I know this is out of the blue, but you wouldn’t happen to have my Monty Python and the Holy Grail dvd by mistake, did you?’

Setting her scroll down, the blonde went over to her movie collection to start putting it back in some semblance of order, expecting the response would take at least an hour, probably more.

But then her scroll dinged before she’d made it halfway across her room.

‘I do, actually. I apologize. I can have it to your apartment by tomorrow morning.’

Her brows rose, surprised both by the prompt response and the urgency with which the woman seemed to want to return the movie.

‘You don’t have to go through all that trouble; I just was wondering where it went.’

‘Nonsense. I’ll have it delivered as soon as possible.’

She couldn’t help the way her lips curled up, just a little. That sounded like the Winter she knew.

‘Well, if you insist.’ Lightly, she bit her lip, thumbs hesitating for a moment before setting her scroll aside. And focusing on finding another movie to pass her time.

They’d gone this long without any contact. Probably for the best.

Yang groaned as she pulled herself out of bed, having slept for shit the night before. Hours had passed with her just wondering if, perhaps, she should’ve tried extending an olive branch to Winter. The woman typically didn’t remain in contact with her exes, though, so Yang had assumed that would apply to her as well.

But... she had the chance. She could’ve at least tried.

The thought remained in the back of her mind throughout her morning ritual, all the way until she tried leaving her apartment and found a man in a delivery uniform coming up the steps.

“Yang Xiao Long?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Then he held out a little brown box. “Here you go, delivery.”

She raised a brow but signed for the package anyway, taking the moment to open it up once he’d left.

Sure enough, Winter had done exactly as she said, as the DVD case slid out into her palm. However... it looked a bit more worn than she remembered and the bottom snap didn’t seem to be working, the edge worn too smooth to catch and close properly.

A frown touched her lips. Had the woman been watching it? Winter had made it clear that she didn’t really have the same appreciation for comedy the way Yang did. Whenever they watched it together, she seemed a touch more interested in her scroll than the movie, but usually spent her time watching Yang’s enjoyment- that, apparently, appealed to her a great deal more.

Setting it aside for the moment, she went out to her motorcycle, so she could get on with her day.

But this wasn’t over.

Taking off her helmet, Yang shook her hair out as she entered her apartment, setting everything in its place as quickly as she could and pulling out her scroll. She’d told Ruby about texting Winter and her sister seemed to be on the same page, encouraging her to follow her gut.

Extending an olive branch couldn’t hurt worse than never knowing.

‘Hey, they delivered the movie this morning. I’m impressed!’

‘I’m glad you got it in a timely manner.’

‘Thanks, really. I’ve been missing it.’ Her tongue peaked out as she hesitated for a moment before just plowing ahead with what seemed to be the easiest option available. ‘So, how have you been? That assignment seems to be work outing for you.’

‘It’s been an enriching opportunity. I got promoted a few months ago. It’s been good. How’s the shop?’

‘Hey, congrats on the promotion! And, ya know how it goes. Ruby’s still the best mechanic in Vytal, so our business is doing pretty well. Never a dull moment!’

‘I’m glad to hear that. I’ve heard a whisper or two about Red Dragon over here in Atlas- all good, I assure you. You and Ruby should look into branding.’

‘Eh, you know it’s not about the fame or money for her.’ Yang chuckled. ‘There might be millions of red roses out there, but there’s only one Ruby Rose!’

Almost immediately, she slapped a hand to her face. As much as she loved puns- as much as Winter said she loved puns while they were dating- that didn’t mean she should just start busting them out all willy nilly. Especially when half her flirting depended on them. She wouldn’t want to give the woman the wrong idea.

Or, rather, she wouldn’t want Winter guessing the truth behind her desire to reconnect. Even if they couldn’t be together, losing her girlfriend had also robbed her of a dear friend, and if she couldn’t get the former back, she’d try like hell for the latter.

‘You’re most certainly correct. She certainly rises above expectations.’

A little chuckle burst from her lips. ‘Okay, that one was pretty good.’

‘I practice in my spare time. I’ve got a Xiao Long way to go, though.’

This time, she laughed. ‘And Xiao Long have you waited to use that?’

‘Almost a year, truthfully, and you didn’t have to one up me immediately after. I’ve always kicked myself that I didn’t realize it before we broke up.’

Her lips quirked into a sad little smile. ‘Hindsight’s a bitch, huh? lol’

‘I’m learning to live with it.’

‘If only your sister could find her sense of humor. She’s still a little sore about my last prank.’

‘In her defense, you know how much she enjoys Blake’s cooking, so swapping their salt and sugar did toe the line. I’m surprised she just yelled at you; I’d half expect her to tamper with your hair care products for such a transgression.’

She ducked her head, scratching behind her ear as a blush came to her cheeks. Yeah, it did kinda go a step too far, but how was she supposed to know she’d made the swap immediately before a romantic date night they’d planned months ahead of time?

‘Okay, fair point, and I honestly expected the same. I threw out all my bottles the next day just to be safe.’ She shook her head, remembering fondly all the times she’d gotten one over on either her best friend or her girlfriend’s sister, and the lectures that followed. Sometimes, Winter would agree with Weiss while hiding a smile behind her hand and, other times, she’d be too busy laughing. ‘One of these days, someone’s going to slip past my defenses, and there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘Are you vaguely threatening a hypothetical prankster for giving you a taste of your own medicine?’

‘Well... yeah.’ She cringed at the blatant hypocrisy implied. ‘It’s my hair we’re talking about, here.’

‘Duly noted.’

A shake of her head. She could just picture the wry grin on the woman’s face when she typed that, the expression that said ‘you know how ridiculous you sound, right?’ in not so many words. ‘You must REALLY miss me, huh?’

‘Yes, I do. A little more with each passing day.’

That sent a shock through her system- her shoulders dropped, a frown touching her lips. She’d always thought Winter had moved on without giving her a second thought; it would explain the radio silence from that end. To find out that the woman still thought about her... or maybe she misunderstood.

‘Really? You never said anything.’

‘It was my idea to break up. I heard you were dating again and I thought it would be best to become a memory and fade away.’

A little stinging came to her eyes. ‘I could never forget you, Winter.’

‘Nor I you.’ Before she could formulate a response, another text came through. ‘I have something of a confession. I realized I’d packed up your movie a month after I left. I apologize for the delay in returning it to you.’

Yang’s brows furrowed. ‘I thought you didn’t even like that movie, though. Why keep it?’

Silence. She stared at her scroll but nothing happened. After five minutes, she began to worry; Winter had always been the sort to favor a clear beginning and ending to a conversation. She didn’t just... trail off like that. Following her gut, Yang tapped on the information at the top and hit the icon to dial, pressing the scroll to her ear.

“Yang,” Winter said, a strange edge to her voice. Not the razor sharp bite of her wit but rather something very... soft, almost morose.

“Hey, is everything okay?” She sat down on her couch, having completely forgotten about finding another movie. “Or- you busy? I can call back.”

“No, no, s’fine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Winter. Are you drunk?”

“... yeah...” The reply came softly, almost as if she was ashamed to admit it. “I mean, I’m drinking. Not... exactly drunk yet, but... pretty much.”

“What’s going on? This... isn’t like you.” Yang shook her head. “I mean, you might have a glass of wine but you always hated the idea of getting drunk.”

“Well, I do, that, but, I made a discovery.” A sigh. “A pathetic one but a discovery nonetheless.”

“And what discovery was that?”

“Well...” A few moments passed, as if she struggled to find the words. “If I put on that movie, and I get just the right amount of drunk, and I close my eyes... I can hear you laughing along to the jokes.”

The stinging came back to her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. “... Winter...”

“I know. I know I have no right, I know it was my idea, and I know I’m an idiot for ever suggesting it in the first place.” A quick inhale- almost like she was sniffling. “I thought it was the best for both of us but I was so wrong... at least... for me... I’ve missed you so much, Yang.” A pause. “I still love you.”

“You sure kept silent about it.” She didn’t mean to make it sound so accusatory but her heart was starting to hurt in her chest, her mind racing.

A year- a year- without the woman, and she’d held this back. All this time they’d lost...

“You were dating.” The shifting of fabric. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that. You... you deserve better than someone dumb enough to walk away in the first place.”

“That’s the alcohol talking,” she said. “What’s the real reason?”

Winter remained silent for a moment. “Why do Schnees always remain silent when merely speaking up might save someone pain?”

Oh, she remembered the answer to that question; it came from one of their first fights. What the actual argument entailed eluded her- something about improving their communication- but she remembered the answer clear as a bell. “Because you fear emotional vulnerability.” She sighed. “You thought I’d reject you.”

“And I couldn’t blame you for it.” Another sigh. “I shouldn’t have walked away. My career... it’s fulfilling, somewhat, but I’m so lonely without you. Every accomplishment just feels... hollow. Saying goodbye... is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

“Winter.” She got to her feet, scrubbing at her face and heading towards her closet. “You need to stop drinking.”

“You’re right. I just thought, maybe-”

“I mean it.” Yang pinned her scroll to her ear with her shoulder while opening the door, eyes roving over her wardrobe. “Pour it out. Now.”

“Right.” Faintly, she could hear some shuffling, and eventually the setting of a glass in a sink. “Done.”

“Great! See you soon.”

“I’m so- uh. What?”

But she ended the call without explaining further. They’d talk again soon enough.

Yang pulled her coat a little tighter around her, digging her chin into the warm scarf around her neck. Atlas’ colder climate grated on her nerves, truth to tell, but she could really care less about the cold night air winding through her hair as she marched her way up the path, stopping in front of the door she wanted. Winter’s new promotion had allotted her a full house to herself tucked away in a nice, well kept part of the base- something the soldiers manning the gate were all too happy to reveal once they were told she was the Colonel’s ex. Apparently, word traveled around the barracks quickly that Winter’s mood had taken a sharp down turn once her assignment in Vale ended. She hadn’t become unbearable, quite, but the rank and file were more than willing to help her out if there existed even a chance it might improve the Officer’s disposition.

They weren’t the only ones.

Raising her hand, she knocked on the door- heavy thuds that couldn’t be ignored, in the event her advice hadn’t been heeded.

A few moments later, it opened to reveal Winter, halfway out of her uniform and hair freshly released from its bun, cascading over her shoulders with bends still intact from being up all day. Blue eyes opened wide, her mouth opening but no words making it out as a very light flush came to her cheeks, and Yang couldn’t help but smile.

“Not quite next morning delivery but I caught a red eye over.” She shrugged. “You sober?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice sounding crisp and clean.

“Good.” Reaching into the big pocket on the bag slung over her shoulder, she fished out the DVD case. “How about we order some pizza and watch a movie? Sound good?”

“Yang...” It seemed like the gears in Winter’s head had finally started turning again. “I- I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

“Oh, right.” With her other hand, she reached forward, grabbed hold of the woman’s lapel, and gave a sharp tug- enough to pull her down within easy kissing distance, a fact Yang wasted no time capitalizing on as her eyes slipped closed.

Damnit; she’d missed this.

When they parted, both a little breathless, a smirk curled her lips. “That clear things up?”

Winter blinked. “No.” Hands slipped to her hips, pulling her forward and flush against the woman, a bit of mischief sparkling in blue eyes. “Explain it again?”

“I think I can do that,” she said, laughing before diving back in, the two slowly making their way inside amid the embrace.

After all, they lost a year together.

They had to start making it up.

#TRR writes #Elderburn #TRR commissions

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musevassal · 6 years

Text

Abroad

I sometimes reflect on my life and wonder: at what point did I stop living abroad?

It’s not as dumb a question as you might think. I am, and have consistently been, aware of what country I live in. The question concerns my perceptions of where I live in relation to where I am from.

When you go abroad, your home doesn’t change. During my first stint in Japan, I taught for two years, but in my conception of things I was always working abroad. Canada was always my home, and I viewed everything I was experiencing through that lens. Of course this was all a more intense and immersed experience than simple travel, to live and work in a foreign country for a foreign company.

And I probably have just caught you making the basic assumption that so many Westerners make when thinking of being abroad in foreign lands. Go back and reread the last clause of the last paragraph.

“... in a foreign country for a foreign company.”

What’s foreign about it? I’m the foreigner in this situation. The company is absolutely not foreign. Yet, most of us fail to recognize this simple truth at a fundamental level.

Blind spot.

We go abroad to enrich our lives and broaden our horizons, and that is well and good. But how many consider that in doing so, we become the foreign other for that place and its people?

What might we represent to the place we visit?

Here in Japan I’ve worked with so many dickheads (mostly American, but not all, just to keep it real) whose whole experience and narrative is built around, “well, in my country, we do things this way.”

And don’t get me wrong, the Japanese do love this trope. They like hearing about Western cultures this way. They like hearing impressions of their own culture; the more ignorant the better! They like that the barely civilized ape man is so pompous and arrogant. And loud. And uncouth. It’s a real gaijin behaving in precisely the stereotype they have of these gaijin.

How marvelous! He thinks he’s very special! Get him drunk! Applaud him for using chopsticks! Let’s see what wild and crazy thing he does next!

The monkey has been taught to smoke. How very amusing; do keep giving it cigarettes.

It is all pretty harmless. But when you go abroad, it couldn’t hurt to keep this kind of thing in mind. As special and unique as you might think you and your culture are, for the people you visit you are just a specific type of foreigner doing very predictable things.

Everything is a two way street. Never forget that.

However, what happens to you when you don’t go home?

There was a moment (and I don’t know when it was) when I was no longer abroad. It was also the precise moment that Canada, the country of my birth, ceased to be my home.

I am now an immigrant. It is something I am proud to be. It helps me fuck my mind in a way I couldn’t otherwise.

In Japan, the country I now live in, I am still perceived to be abroad by the people I live among. It doesn’t matter how long I live here, and how much of the language and culture I can adopt; I will never be of this place.

That’s how it is.

But I don’t need that. And I don’t want it. And I don’t expect it.

One of the things that first attracted me to this place is that there’s a certain amount of anonymity that comes with being such a visible minority in such a homogeneous place (since people just see the stereotype). But that’s not what keeps me here.

Ultimately, it’s just such a simple thing at its heart: I like that everything and everyone around me is not what I grew up with. Every visual I take in is different than what I was conditioned to expect. I take a drive with my family and the farms all look like something in a samurai movie. It’s invigorating.

As much as I’m a foreigner here, and always will be, this is my place too now. I can take possession of it just by virtue of my continued experience of it; through the changing of that experience as it matures. The sense of strangeness the place gives me is no longer that which comes of being abroad. I’ve been here long enough that vistas have become familiar. Places have old memories attached to them. It’s all getting worn in; smooth and comfortable.

Yet, because I will always be regarded as an outsider, the place can’t ever get altogether normal for me. That’s what I like about it.

I suppose that after a few more years, with any luck I’ll be able to start heading back the other way. Rediscover Canada a bit. See how it and its people look through the new lenses I’m crafting for myself now.

It’s something to look forward to: being abroad in the country of my birth. A mind fuck only being an immigrant can give you.

#travel #immigration #working abroad #abroad #foreigner #japan #gaijin

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irontechdollfactory · 3 years

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Why she buy adult sex dolls for husband?

There are many advantages to buying sex dolls for your husband. In addition to being a very personal and sexually satisfying gift, it is also a good tool to start rebuilding a marriage or simply satisfy some unsatisfied needs. The number one reason why you should buy a sex doll for your husband is that it can solve specific problems you may face in your relationship.

Throughout this article, I will try to find some good examples of why you should consider buying a adult sex doll for your husband. I believe that if you can keep an open mind, you will find many good ideas in this article that can help you make an informed decision.

HE WON’T LIE TO YOU Sometimes, in marriage, your sex life will be affected. This happens regardless of the reason.

Man is a predator. It means that they are constantly looking for sex to satisfy themselves. It sounds simple, but it is true. Men’s needs are very basic, and sex is one of the most important things for them. If you are reading this article, you may no longer have the need or pleasure of having sex, and trying to satisfy men’s desires has proven to be a housework. Therefore, the sex life is reduced.

If a person encounters this situation, it may cause him to find a new partner to satisfy his desire. As his partner, you don’t want this to happen. This may cause some tension between the couple and cause him to leave you to find the new woman. Studies have shown that when people are dissatisfied with their sexual partners, they will look for new partners.

On the contrary, if you buy a life size adult sex doll for him, your husband can use it to satisfy some of his wishes. If your man is satisfied, then he will not need to look for other sexual partners. This will greatly reduce the possibility of him cheating on you.

Look at the businessman Pieter Steenkamp. He bought a doll for himself and left her in the office. He not only uses dolls to make love, but also helps him relieve the stress during busy periods. Sex dolls are a great way to relieve stress for doll owners because they provide companionship and sexual pleasure.

Stingkamp said the key thing about his love doll is that when his wife is too tired instead of cheating on her, she is there. Stingkamp said that if he cheated in his community, he would lose a lot. Cheating not only affects your interpersonal relationship, but also has a greater impact. This is why allowing and buying sex dolls for your husband is a better option.

YOU CAN’T SATISFY HIM ANYMORE Another key reason to buy a sex doll is because you may no longer have the desire to satisfy him. It’s not that you can’t, but you just don’t like it. For this reason, more and more women buy sex dolls for men. Sometimes, when your husband has some needs, when you are tired, you can let sex dolls replace you. If your husband likes characters in anime, this can also satisfy him. Tpesexdoll sex doll store have many realistic cute anime sex dolls.

Looking at China, the reason why the sex doll industry is booming is because society is becoming more tolerant of sex dolls. Women who strive to satisfy their husbands can use it as a substitute.

Here is an example. A Chinese lady bought a full size adult sex doll for her 60-year-old husband. Why? Because they no longer have the passionate years and sex life of the past. At first, the lady dismissed female sex dolls, struggling with shame, guilt and regret. However, when the lady saw her husband’s high spirits and rosy face, and a better and better attitude towards her. The Chinese lady was relieved too. She felt that this sex doll bridged the important gap in their marriage and made their relationship closer in other ways.

To be honest, being a wife may be one of the hardest jobs in the world. Some men have difficulty coping. Why not let you take some time out of your sex life without worrying about your man cheating on you every time you show up, why? If you are sick, pregnant, busy or other things, you should also be allowed to take time off. You don’t have to worry that adult sex doll will replace you. Your beloved wife will always treat your man better than sex toys.

YOU WANT TO ENRICH YOUR SEX LIFE Another popular reason women buy sex dolls for their husbands is to add interest to their sex lives. For example, you may have been fantasizing about a trio, but always worry about bringing strangers into your love life. This is always a complicated problem, and it may bring a series of problems that have never been encountered before. Therefore, many couples will choose adult sex doll as the third partner. It can simulate the experience of a trio without the problems of a trio.

One of our sex doll customers named Scott told us how he likes to use sex dolls in threesomes. He said that they do not use full size adult realistic sex doll regularly besides used for a special occasion type. Scott said that it is important to treat their husband and wife like any other sex toy, because this is not to replace their wives, but to add new pleasures to their excessive sex objects. Scott’s wife emphasized that they don’t use her like other doll owners, they treat it like a sex toy, and you won’t find it sitting at their table drinking tea.

Owning a adult sex doll does not always mean getting a companion or friend. For some people, this is just another sex toy in their closet, and this is not part of the day, it is a very special thing. This is not because you suddenly bought a sex doll, a strange sex lunatic.

Most people who use adult sex doll for their sex life regard it as a cool experience to try at least once at a time and give it a high rating.

SUGGESTED USAGE Now that you have read some of the reasons why you should buy a adult sex doll for your husband, you may want to consider establishing some basic rules before buying a sex doll for him.

One thing to consider is what the intended use of the sex doll is. If you get a sex doll purely for gratification, make sure he uses it only for this purpose. Some men may start to treat sex dolls as companions. This happens only when such a treatment window is opened, but if you tell him immediately that the only way to use a sex doll is for masturbation purposes, then you are closing the potential window. Make sure he does not start talking to or sleeping with the doll, as these signs indicate that he may be attached to the doll.

You should also try to set a schedule for sex dolls, in other words, tell him not to use adult sex doll too much. For example, maybe he can only use sex dolls on certain days or when work is too busy.

Hope you like our article on buying adult sex dolls for your husband. Please visit our store here to see a list of all the sex dolls we have.

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