#if anyone knew how much time was spent on colour correction here they would cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

6sakusa · 3 years

Text

‘next time’ kozume kenma.

a/n : so this is actually based off my past relationship & i kinda wanted to make the reader the villain for once so enjoy <3

wc: 1.8k

warnings : implications of toxic relationship, angst, me not proof reading.

you stared down at your feet, eyes pooling with tears and heart racing as your now ex-boyfriend approached you. the two of you were obviously still madly in love with each other, anyone could tell that part. but what you hadn’t expected was an ocean to separate the two of you soon enough, instead of your own stubbornness.

—

“i don’t love you anymore.” that was a lie, a lie that kenma wasn’t quite sure why he told you. maybe it was because he pretty much loathed you right now, but then again, there was such a fine line between love and hate and he barely knew himself where he stood on the spectrum. all he was aware of was that he was being fuelled by an ugly emotion, jealousy? no it couldn’t be, but then how come he despised the way you would smile at lev? the way you would brush his shoulder when you laughed? the way you offered up your food to him when he said he was hungry? even though the two of you were both inexperienced in your first serious relationship he still expected you to understand that you were his, and he couldn’t stand another moment with you contemplating whether you really belonged to him or not.

“where is this coming from?” you were practically frozen in place, unaware if you had registered his words properly as you could hear your heart leaping out of your chest. you bit down on your lip hoping that this was some kind of sick joke that kuroo had put him up to, you would make sure to get the bastard back later, he would definitely pay, how could he do something so cruel-

“i’ve realised that i barely know you.” you forced yourself to look up at him at his words, clenching your fists to the point where your nails were digging into your own skin at a poor attempt to deflect emotional pain with physical pain. so this wasn’t a joke? you scoffed at the realisation, but despite your cool and put together demeanour you felt cold. this heartbreak was slow, it was unexpected and refused to register itself the way it should. perhaps it was because deep down you knew that his words weren’t true, of course he loved you, he always had. so why were you acting like this? it seemed spite was deeply embedded where there was once love and you certainly wouldn’t provide him with a response that would satisfy him.

he wanted you to beg and you knew it, the reason you knew it is because you had made him do it over and over again. at times your relationship felt like a game of cat and mouse as you would always scurry out of kenma’s grasp the second your relationship was heading in the right direction, and it was all because you liked it when he would trail after you, when he’d apologise even though it made him nervous, when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear just to get you to forgive him even though it made his anxiety peak and his cheeks flaunt a dusty pink colour.

but you weren’t like him, no, and you weren’t gonna concede the same way he had done countless times. because you saw this for what it truly was, a game of tag and kenma had decided to make you it. but you would change that soon enough, even if you had to break your own heart to do it.

pride was a sin, not any sin but one of the seven deadly sins and there was no surprise that the deadliest one of them all was your speciality because you would die to persevere your pride if you had to.

“so these months we spent together.. if you didn’t love me then why did you waste time?” it was a mystery to kenma how you were so well put together right now, wasn’t this the moment where you’d start crying? weren’t you supposed to be reminiscing now? this as your cue to say that you could be better, that you’d do better, that you’d do anything. but no, you did none of that, why did you do none of that? do you not care? did you even love him? he was baffled how you were the one asking the questions right now even though there were a million going through his mind.

“i really liked you at first, i thought we could make this work but, w-we’re too different, we barely know anything about each other, what’s the point being together?” he stumbled on his words and you knew you were in the lead. you definitely had the upper hand here because even though kenma was one of the most relaxed people you’d meet in public, behind doors when it came to you he was an emotional wreck, and right now he was playing right into your hands.

“what don’t we know about each other?” you asked, biting back a smirk, you were almost amused in anticipation of his response. it wasn’t that you didn’t love kenma because you did, but something about inexperienced love lead to this, and if this was the end it’s only fit to make it an entertaining one right? because when you went home you knew that you would be biting back your sobs but for now- while it lasts, you had to win this at any costs.

“look, i can't name specific things but you know what i mean, i know that you understand what i’m saying.” he hated this, he hated standing here trying to pick apart what was wrong between the two of you, but ultimately he was correct, there was a void when it came to you two knowing each other well enough, it wasn’t something that could be voiced but instead felt. when had the two of you spent quality time outside of school? or even gone on dates? had you ever even facetimed each other? he couldn’t recall. but despite all this he loved you with a depth he wasn’t sure you’d ever understand and for the longest time he was willing to wait for you to be comfortable and open up. but instead here he was, throwing the same things back in your face that he claimed to be okay with when you had first voiced your concerns on why you didn’t think the two of you would be compatible.

“y/n i’m sorry but-“ “no, don’t pull that bullshit on me you’re not sorry, don’t even bother ever trying to speak to me again.” you interrupted, of course you had to be the one to say it, there it was again your selfish pride. it was sad- no, tragic how much you based your self-worth around it and even though that worth was crippling away you wouldn’t let it go yet, no, not until you were done here. “don’t be childish about this, come on.”

“did you not hear me before? don’t speak to me ever again.” you scoffed wanting to reinforce the last blow as hard as humanly possible. but even though on the outside you were quite the bitch, no one could ever understand the hurricane of emotional turmoil that was sweeping itself through you right now, because it took everything not to cry right there, not to beg him to stay, not to make empty promises about how you’d do better. what you wish you’d known is that he was going through the exact same thing, because the two of you were too stubborn for your own good.

“fine.” he clenched his jaw but his voice was below a whisper, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was never supposed to go like this. the two of you walked away from each other and the further away you got the more it started to hurt as the two of you realised how hopelessly in love you were with one another. it was a slow heartbreak indeed.

—

and that was what had taken you to this point, only a month later finding out that you would be travelling overseas to live with your cousins. that’s when it hit you that the two of you truly wouldn’t get back together despite the constant pining on both ends even after you had told him not to speak to you.

“i hate you.” you muttered through your sobs not even being able to bring yourself to look him in the eye. you cursed yourself for being so stubborn, maybe the two of you would’ve had one more month together, now all you wanted was to go back in time, to be with kenma again battling for his attention against the switch. you smiled sadly at the thought as he stood before you after receiving the news that you’d be leaving soon from none other than lev, it’s a pain how things had turned out.

“why?” he asked, not as emotional as you but god he wanted to be, but he had to be strong right? for you..? he’ll be damned if he lets your last memory with him be tear stained and heartbreak.

“you said you didn’t love me anymore, remember?” you chuckled bitterly thinking back on it, in the moment you wondered why you were so hellbent on turning the whole thing into a game, you hated yourself more than anything right now, even more than you claimed to hate kenma.

“i was lying.” he brought his finger to your tears, wiping your liquid heartbreak before bringing you into his embrace and you swore you could see fireworks. it was almost a movie like moment, you wish you could freeze time and stay like this forever but alas this was your punishment for your pride, for your sins.

“i don’t wanna leave.” you sobbed into his shoulder finally letting the dam break, it was true, you wanted nothing more than to stay here, where he was. maybe it was the way that he stroked your hair while you cried or the way you inhaled his scent but you knew this was home.

“i’m sorry.” you looked up at him at his words, if anything you should be the one apologising, there were so many things you wished you had done differently and so many moments you wanted to share in the future but you knew your time together was coming to an end. “i’m sorry too.” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you clinged onto his hoodie.

“you know we’ll see eachother again one day.” he mumbled into your hair and you could’ve just melted right then and there.

with shaky hands and an overbearing sense of love you pulled away with a sad smile that he returned. “i’ll see you next time.”

301 notes · View notes

arhvste · 4 years

Text

MIYA OSAMU - BUN IN THE OVEN

- summary - working alongside your husband brings moments of domesticity outside your home which you reveal is about to become a little bigger - fluff - x f reader

- an - this was based off of this ask an anon sent in earlier today, i’ve posted atsumu fic that links to this one !! thank you for the idea it was nice to write domestic samu :) this is also for @zumisace because i know you love samu and i love u >:)

“Oi, Samu! Stop flirtin with ya wife right in front’a me and get cookin, I’m starvin!” Atsumu whined as he rested his head against the kitchen prep counter which was currently occupied with countless cooking utensils scattered across the cool metal surface and various ingredients dotted around.

“Yer just jealous I have a gorgeous wife and you don’t” With a smug smile, Osamu wrapped his arm around your waist bringing you in close enough for him to press a quick kiss to your flour dusted cheek.

“Yuck! Not over the food I’m beggin ya!”

You giggled and pulled your husband back in close to you before turning to give a quick smile to his irritated twin.

“Perhaps we should find you a girlfriend Tsumu! I know a few people who I’m sure would be at least willing to go out on a date with you.”

“Yeah, you’d probably have to pay em first!”

You and your husband laughed lightly at the setter’s expense causing him to groan and sit up straight.

“I have plenty of girls linin up for me dont’cha worry bout that!”

Osamu snickered and motioned for his brother to take a tray of freshly prepped onigiri out to the front of the store.

“Yer damn right ya got a line waitin for ya, or more specifically, they’re waitin for ya to bring more food out so get to it.”

Atsumu grumbled but obliged as he slumped off the stool and took the tray with ease out to the front where drooling customers were waiting to pounce on any fresh batch of onigiri they could.

“You’re so mean to him sometimes.” You hummed as you continued to shape the rice into the correct size triangles as Osamu cut seaweed grass into accurate rectangles.

“It’s all outta love darlin.” He offered a warm smile to which you happily returned. “Of course he’s gonna be jealous I have a gorgeous, helpful and amazin wife! Anyone would be jealous.”

You blushed at his words and flicked him lightly leaving small dust prints of flour on his apron. “So gross!” You whined only for him to pull you into his chest and get you to look up at his handsome face.

Despite the fact the Miya brothers were twins, you still couldn’t help but find Osamu significantly more attractive than his older twin. This was even before you’d fallen for the man. There was just something about him that made him more desirable, not intending to offend Atsumu for he definitely wasn’t someone you’d consider unattractive. Perhaps it was his mature and responsible traits or maybe it was his hardworking and determination that drew you in. It didn’t matter either way though. You loved Osamu Miya for everything he was, physical and personal traits all included. He was the man you fell in love with and he was the man who had wanted you to become ‘Mrs Miya’, a title he often liked to refer to you as.

Osamu leaned down and rested his forehead on yours sighing softly. Caressing your cheek with his warm calloused hands, he pulled your face closer to his and pressed a warm and delicate kiss to your lips before securing his hand at the base of your neck while the other found its way around to the small on your back, drawing small circles with his index finger as he tenderly kissed you.

He was always good at catching you in these moments, Osamu never shied away from showing affection towards you whenever you had a second of privacy. The long hours he worked at his restaurants and home office took a toll on your time spent together, only making his levels of clinginess heighten until eventually it would snap and he’d refuse to keep his hands off of you when he’d get to see you again.

When you had suggested helping him in the restaurant he wasn't opposed to the idea at all. He knew he could count on you and that you were more than capable at cooking after being with him for so long. He loved the feel of getting to be domestic with you outside of the warm and loving home the two of you shared.

Finally pulling away, Osamu admired the soft twinkle in your eyes that he always found himself getting lost in.

“God, I’m lucky yer my girl, my favourite, beautiful girl.”

You hummed gently as you wrapped your arms around his small waist.

“Well, I hope you’re ready to potentially let me share the title of your ‘favourite girl’...”

Osamu’s eyebrow quirked in confusion as he muttered a puzzled “huh?” before you pulled one of your arms up to cup his warm cheek.

“I’m pregnant Samu…”

His eyes widened as he searched for any sign of insincerity in your expression. Then again, you weren’t one to pull a joke like this on him in such an atmosphere, you had to be telling the truth.

“Samu?” your voice laced with concern and worry as your husbands mouth stayed shut as he studied your form with soft but shocked eyes.

“Sorry! For real? Like, yer not playin with me are ya?”

“Of course not!”

Osamu felt tears prick in the corners on his eyes and wasted no time grabbing you by the waist and lifting you in the air in pure glee.

“I’m gonna be a dad? Fuck, I love you so so much y/n!” He laughed joyously as you let your own laughter intermix with his own.

Your home was about to become a family home and Osamu couldn’t have been happier. Not only did he marry the woman he loved, but now alongside you, he was going to get to raise a child the two of you had made together. A million different scenarios and questions ran through his mind as he placed you back down and wrapped you in a tight embrace. Would they look more like him or more like you? Were you going to bring your child to work some days or should he take time off. Would his kid be able to tell the difference between him and Atsumu? Would his kid even like onigiri? Oh, who cared? Right now, the most important thing on his mind was how much he loved you and wanted this with you.

Hushed but excited mutters of ‘I love you’ were traded between the two of you as Osamu peppered your face in soft kisses. Absolutely everything was right with the world in that very moment.

“Samu! Yer gotta get out there! Animals I’m tellin ya! Absolute animals out there! It’s like feeding hour at the zoo!”

Well, almost everything was right in the world.

“Comin yer idiot.” Osamu sighed before pulling away from you after you wiped his eyes.

“Thank fuck and- oh! Were ya crying ya little pissbaby?” Atsumu snorted when he saw his brothers slightly reddend eyes.

“Oh please, yer the only pissbaby here with yer stupid corn coloured hair.”

“It’s been toned since highschool actually, Bokkun taught me how to do it so I’d appreciate it if yer acknowledged that.”

“Whatever and besides, ya can call me pissbaby however much ya like but just thought I’d tell ya, I’m the one thats gonna be the dad to a real baby soon so shut yer trap!”

Atsumu’s mouth gaped open as he looked between you and your husband, surprise shown in his expression. You shook your head at the brothers typical bickering and strode over to the two of them grabbing another tray of freshly prepped onigiri to take out to desperate customers.

“I hope we don’t end up with twins.” You muttered as both boys snickered following out behind you as Atsumu bragged back to Osamu that his kid was gonna like ‘Uncle Atsumu’ more than his own father to which Osamu childishly quarreled back.

Nevermind a child, these two were enough for you to handle for now, but you just couldn't wait for your own angel to enter the world and had no worry in the world as you knew they’d have the best dad in the world and a semi-decent uncle.

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @atsunakaashi @peteunderoos @tsukishimagizzard @saturnfarie @toffees-main @zumisace @boosyboo9206

#osamu miya #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu fic #osamu scenario #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq

414 notes · View notes

lailyn · 3 years

Text

At World’s End

Summary: A short companion piece to Episode 5 Journey Into Mystery

Pairing: Loki/Mobius

Tags: Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

The Void, Time Immemorial

“There’s a fire inside, what the hell are you doing out here? Aren’t you cold?”

If there was one thing Loki did not miss about Mobius, it was the perpetual nagging. But for once, he had to agree.

“Yes, it is a bit cold out here, isn’t it?” Loki tucked his hands under his armpits and suppressed a shiver. “Never thought I’d still need to concern myself with weathering the elements, this is the first such post-death experience for me.”

“This is the first post-death for me, period,” Mobius said dryly, planting himself on the ground. “I’ve always believed Hell would look different for everyone. Not freezing, at least.”

“A bespoke Hel,” Loki mulled. “You have just made a very good point there.”

“I have?” Mobius quirked an eyebrow. “Now I finally believe we’re at the end of the world. Loki of Asgard just paid me a compliment.”

“Loki of Nowhere,” his companion corrected. “Every other Loki here is a greater embodiment of Asgard. I do not deserve the title.”

“Come on, what happened to that spunky guy who talked me into journeying back in time to Pompeii?” Mobius bumped their shoulders together lightly. "But come to think about it, everyone’s still got some pretty strong leather game going on, except for you.”

"Your precious TVA divested me of all my fineries," Loki said curtly, obviously still mourning the loss of his fine Asgardian leathers.

“Yeah but would you look at yourself? You’re filthy. And this was a brand-new shirt!" Mobius poked a finger into the side of Loki’s arm where someone’s blade had ripped a gaping hole in his shirt.

“Hey!” Loki recoiled with a wince. “You did give me just the one.”

“If anyone’s in need of a shower and a nap, it’s you,” Mobius said. "Did you even get that wound looked at?"

"No time. Too busy getting pruned."

“What happened to your jacket?” Mobius asked. “You could have gotten away with not so deep a cut.”

“I left it on Lamentis-1. It got ruined. See if you’d only used high-quality leather, it would have lasted longer.”

Mobius laughed. “Thank you for the constructive feedback. I’ll make sure the right department gets it.”

Loki’s entire demeanour iced over, his back a little straighter, his eyes candelas darker. “Oh no. You’re going to burn the whole place to the ground.”

Neither spoke for an immeasurable moment, tense and silent.

“I am, aren’t I?” Mobius asseverated solemnly.

“You promised her, didn’t you?”

Mobius nodded his head once, for once was enough. He knew what he promised. He knew what he owed Sylvie, what he owed Loki, what he owed all of them.

“I’m sorry I called you a cockroach.”

“It was fitting.” Loki’s voice was flat. "Kill one, a legion of us takes his place."

“That's not what I meant."

“Mobius, it's okay, it’s forgotten.”

“Damn it, Loki, I’m trying to apologise here.”

“You did get pretty angry with me back there.” Loki gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye. "As far as interrogation techniques go, I've seen better."

"Nah, I was just pushing your buttons - "

A scoff, "Pushing my buttons?"

"I couldn't help myself, you have too many."

Loki shook his head. "I can't believe you."

It was now or never.

Mobius’ hand suddenly shot out to grab Loki by the tie. "Believe this,” and he hauled him in for a kiss.

A million memories flitted past in a blur of garish colours and sounds and scents, memories of hours spent dancing around each other in the search for answers neither was willing to freely give,

Somewhere, somewhen, he heard Loki gasp in surprise, but Mobius gave him no chance for a breather, deepening the kiss until hard enough to bruise.

Will he remember all of this? Will he remember the nights spent burning the midnight oil poring over worthless documents for what good had they done him? All the nasty words exchanged in the heat of the moment, thinking they had betrayed each other?

Will Loki be as forgiving? Mobius wondered in gut-wrenching regret. As forgiving as Sylvie?

Mobius received his answer not a moment too soon when Loki surged against him a precious second later, body and breath; his grappling hand released the tie only to grasp the sides of Loki’s torso lest they both toppled onto the cold, unforgiving ground.

It could be Alioth roaring the sky or the promise of imminent death hanging over their heads, but the kiss tasted as sweet as hell. When they finally parted, it was with a pain Mobius had never felt before, and judging by the myriad of emotions raging in Loki’s eyes, it was a sentiment shared.

An eternity must have passed, for suddenly the sky just seemed that much brighter, the air a thousand times lighter.

Loki was the first to breach the silence.

"What was that?" he murmured.

"An apology."

“What more than that?”

"My swansong."

Loki blanched. "Mobius…"

"I don't want to regret anything.” The wind carried Mobius’ wish away, and with it, every shred of doubt.

He truly loved Loki, and reciprocated or not, he wanted Loki to know.

"I don't want to forget you." Mobius thumbed the hollow of Loki’s cheek, committing every dimple, every laugh line to memory. "However this is gonna end, good or bad, I really don't see an outcome where I don't forget you."

Loki’s face crumpled. "You won't."

For something that came as naturally to Loki as breathing, he must have forgotten how to lie; it felt like every inch of his face was giving him away, from the false bravado of his words down to the quivering of his lips. "I'm unforgettable."

Mobius had seen Loki driven to tears countless times throughout his long, long life, but he drew the line at Loki crying because of him.

He climbed to his feet. "I should go.”

"You're leaving? Now?"

Mobius nodded. "Ravonna's waiting. It's time to finish this."

“Without telling the others?” Loki pleaded. “Sylvie’s going to kill you for leaving once she wakes up.”

“I’ve already said my goodbyes.” Mobius smiled kindly. “I came out here to see you.” One last time.

He quickly turned his back while Loki was still sitting stunned on the ground and fished the Tempad out of his pocket.

A press of a button later, the Time Door materialised in front of him, ominous and beckoning.

What lay beyond used to be home. Now? It was a death trap, but one Mobius simply must walk through. It was his duty.

But before he could take another step,

“Mobius, wait!”

A hand grabbed the bend of his elbow and against his better judgment, Mobius turned, only to stumble backward when Loki launched himself at him, locking chest to chest, lips to lips.

The kiss lasted for a while and tasted of sorrow.

"One for the journey." There were tears in Loki's eyes.

So much for not making you cry. "See you at world's end, Loki."

"Goodbye, my friend.”

#lokius #loki tv #mobius m mobius #wowki #time husbands #fic #loki x mobius

31 notes · View notes

rwby-diaries · 4 years

Photo

Fair Game Weekend 2020!

Day 1: Confessions

We couldn’t participate in the entire weekend, but we couldn’t help ourselves with this prompt! Our favourite uncles have been in love for a very long time~

Line Art by: @bosiphas

Colour by: @data-plays-viola

Ficlet by: @bosiphas

Ficlet edited by: @data-plays-viola and @lameclub

Ficlet under the cut!

Qrow wasn’t sure how to go about it. There was a tightness in his chest and a pit in his stomach. The thought of being so vulnerable, even in front of Clover, was unbearable. He’d changed since his days in the tribe. Before, he’d never have even let himself feel anything for Clover let alone tell him his feelings. But he was different now, and as much as it made him scared, he was happy. But that thought scared him even more. What happened if that happiness left? What if Qrow let himself be vulnerable and share the most private parts of himself to someone that sparked such joy in him, and that’s what drove him away? And in the back of his mind, he could hear his sister. We’re here to learn how to kill huntsfolk. Despite the connections they’d made with Tai and Summer, Raven would still try to remind Qrow, and by extension herself, that they weren’t staying. Her words had been a dreadful reminder for the past 3 years anytime either of them got too close to someone. He’d had a hard time admitting to her that he would never want to go back. Not after everything, after Summer and Tai, and… Clover.

Qrow swallowed hard, his palms clammy, as he stood in front of Clover on the helipad, ready to depart for Vale.

“So…” he muttered, trying to hold eye contact with him but failing miserably. As much as he wanted to stare into Clover’s beautiful green eyes all the time, right now they were heavy on his heart. Qrow scratched the back of his head awkwardly as Summer squealed a goodbye to Lucy, Clover’s teammate, a few feet away. Raven and Tai were just beyond the pair, saying their goodbyes to the remaining two of Clover’s team, Rayne and Vivian. It would’ve been easier if Qrow had been alone with Clover.

“I wish the Vytal Festival was longer,” Clover admitted, pulling Qrow’s attention back to him. “Would’ve given us more time together.” He took a step forward to Qrow, reaching out his hand and gently taking his.

Qrow looked down at his hand in Clover’s, then back up to meet Clover’s eyes. He could feel a slight warmth in his cheeks as Clover smiled softly at him. Gods, how could he ever have the guts to say this? What if it was too soon? He would scare Clover off—no, that didn’t sound like him, Clover was more forward than anyone he’d ever met. What if Clover wasn’t there yet and he made him feel uncomfortable? They’d only been together a few months. Spent almost every day together since they’d fought in Round 1 Team Fights of the tournament. Qrow clenched his jaw, trying not to smile too much, thinking of the stupid way they’d gotten tangled in Kingfisher’s line and Clover, gods Clover, smirked and said, “Lucky me, huh?”

Clover squeezed Qrow’s hand, noticing him tense up. He was anxious about something and getting distracted. “I’ll message you every day,” Clover declared, trying to sound practical by saying “message” instead of “call”. He’d already fallen so in love with the boy, but he could tell Qrow was someone not used to being so open with people. He wouldn’t ask—Clover didn’t want to pry—but he could surmise it was something to do with his family. His twin sister Raven was even more closed off, save for the rare moment with her team. And Clover didn’t think she liked him very much.

Qrow looked down to his feet, gathering his thoughts for a moment. He had to say it, he didn’t want to leave without saying it. Letting out a shaky but calming sigh, Qrow looked back up to Clover once more, determined. “I…” Qrow’s voice cracked slightly and he hesitated. His head was swirling with what if’s. “Y-you… have my number…” Fucking dumbass. Qrow cursed himself, defeated. Chickening out at the last minute, gods he felt pathetic.

Clover could tell Qrow was holding back, but in the interest of not pressuring him, he only chuckled in response. “I have it memorized, so, no chance of losing it.” Clover hesitated himself, wanting to follow his instincts to lean in and kiss Qrow, but he didn’t seem ready for PDA yet.

“Uh…” Qrow went to scratch the back of his head again, something he’d realized was a bit of a nervous tick, but he’d gone to do it with the hand Clover was holding. Qrow froze before he let go of Clover’s hand, but unfortunately, it was too late as Clover let go of his hand in response. “Oh, no… I–”

“Qrow! C’mon! We gotta get going!” Tai yelled from behind him on the airship that was taking them back to Vale.

Qrow tensed up his shoulders, annoyed. As Clover turned around and waved at his team that had called to him as well, Qrow turned to his own team that was waiting on him, Summer giving Tai grief for interrupting him and Clover, and Raven standing there, arms folded across her chest, unimpressed with a sour look on her face. He sighed heavily, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to say it now, but he’d be damned if he didn’t show some sort of affection to Clover. He had to, Clover couldn’t always be the one to close the distance.

As the two boys turned back around to face each other to say the final goodbye, Qrow leaned in hurriedly and placed a small peck on Clover’s cheek, and just as quickly pulled away. “Call me.” Qrow didn’t mean for it to sound so demanding, but he didn’t have time to correct himself, he was sure he looked ridiculous, his entire face was on fire. Without waiting for a response from Clover, Qrow turned around and hastily boarded the aircraft.

Clover watched Qrow run up the ramp of the aircraft, lifting his hand to touch his cheek where Qrow had kissed him. A wide smile spread on his face and he called out a goodbye to Qrow. He needed to give him more credit. Qrow wasn’t as closed off as he thought, and Clover knew that kiss took a lot of effort on his part.

Qrow turned around as the doors of the aircraft started to close, unable to help himself, getting one last glimpse of Clover’s face. He had the biggest smile on his face since they’d had their first kiss; Qrow could practically see the shining aura of happiness around his face as Clover waved him goodbye.

Qrow turned back around, let himself fall back against the closed door as the aircraft took off, and slid to the floor. He put his hands in his face, trying to ignore Tai’s laughter and feeling his sister’s piercing gaze on him.

“You look a little embarrassed, Qrow!” Tai teased, still thunderously laughing.

Raven moved her hands from her hips and crossed them in front of her chest. “More like he looks like a child.” She threw the insult at him, knowing he’d know why she was not happy.

Qrow dropped his hands from his face and snapped his head up to meet his sister’s gaze, giving her a warning glare.

Tai interrupted their staring contest, putting an arm around Raven and pulling her to the seats on the other side of the cabin. “C’mon, Raven! Haven’t you ever been in love?” He added an affected dramatic tone to the words “in love.”

“N-no! Of course not!” Raven tried to elbow Tai off her, but she still walked to sit with him.

Qrow watched his sister be a hypocrite with a look of disdain on his face as Summer took a seat next to him on the cabin floor.

“Do you love him?”

Qrow was surprised by the question, looking to Summer who could read his emotions almost as easily as Clover could, maybe even better. She was his best friend. The only thing she didn’t know about him was why he and Raven had enrolled at Beacon in the first place. He’d never admit to Raven how much he’d told Summer over the years–including but not limited to their upbringing in the Tribe. When he met this little girl in the forest 3 years ago, he never thought they’d turn out like this: Qrow wouldn’t know what to do without Summer.

Before he answered he looked back over to Raven and Tai, making sure they, or rather she couldn’t hear him. Qrow sighed looking at his hands. “More than I ever thought I could,” he answered.

Summer smiled, noticing herself how much Qrow had changed since she’d met him, but she wished Raven had made the same progress he had. “Then I’m sure it’ll all work out.” She adjusted her position that had been slightly turned to Qrow and placed her back flat against the door and rested her head against it.

Qrow smirked, looking over to Summer, ready to put the heat on her this time. “What about you and Lucy?”

Summer’s shoulders tensed and her cheeks lit up. “What about me and Lucy?” She sputtered, embarrassed.

“You’re not going to date her?”

Summer pressed her lips together, feeling dejected from Qrow’s question. “Lucy’s great, I like her a lot… but…” She peaked past Qrow and down to Tai who was teasing Raven by messing up her hair. She paid him back with a small jab in his side with Omen’s hilt.

Qrow followed her line of sight but already knew who she was looking to. “Sorry.”

Summer shook her head, equal parts an acknowledgment and a way to keep herself from crying. “It’s okay.” She rested her head on Qrow’s shoulder, who rested his head on Summer’s in return. After a long pause, she spoke again. “I’m sure you’ll be luckier than I am with love.” She grinned.

“Hey.” Qrow reached over with his hand and pinched her cheek as she giggled, chuckling with her. “Brat,” he sneered jokingly, but he knew she was deflecting to make herself appear okay. He wouldn’t say anything else though, knowing it would be better to leave it at that and sit with Summer in comfortable silence while he kicked himself for not saying what he wanted to Clover. Next time. Qrow promised himself. ~~~ When they finally got back to Beacon, it was late. Everyone was dragging their feet, walking back to their dorm rooms. Summer had fallen asleep during the flight and instead of waking her, Qrow opted to carry her. Tai had offered, but Qrow thought it best for him to carry her instead, considering certain feelings. As they were walking through the halls, Tai yawned dramatically and stretched his arms above his head.

“Imma go hit the showers before bed.” Tai split off from the other three, taking a hard right down to the co-ed bathrooms. “G’night…” He waved behind him to his teammates as they continued on down to their room.

Raven sighed heavily. “Such a child.” She shook her head and grimaced.

“You? Yeah, I agree,” Qrow spoke in a pointed but hushed tone.

Raven glared at him. “No. Shut up. I’m talking about our teammates.”

“Quiet, Raven,” Qrow warned his sister, not wanting her to wake Summer. “Don’t start. You always do this, when either of us is getting close to someone you -”

“I don’t get close to anyone,” Raven denied, stopping in front of her younger twin and crossing her arms.

Qrow rolled his eyes, stepped around her, and continued down the hall. “Okay, edgelord.” Raven started to retort his jab but Qrow continued. “Stop lying to yourself, Raven. You don’t have to. If you think I’m going to judge you for liking Tai,” Raven tried to interrupt once more at Qrow’s claim, but he continued still, ignoring her denials. “Or for being friends with Summer, I’m not.” Qrow turned slightly to look back at her and decided to take a chance. “We don’t have to go back.” He paused at Raven’s expression after finishing his daring suggestion. He’d expected her to deny such an option and penalize him for even thinking about it, but he could see it on her face: she’d considered it already. Her eyes fell from his face to the ground, and her eyebrows arched up. It was rare for Raven to show such a… vulnerable expression. “Raven, you-” Qrow began, but she quickly cut him off.

“Whatever, I’m going for a walk.” She turned on her heel and walked away from him, any vulnerability she was showing just seconds ago was now gone.

Qrow pressed his lips together and took a deep, tired breath. He wouldn’t bother her anymore; if left on her own, Raven would surely come to the same conclusion he had. Hopefully. He had to admit he was still surprised, though. His sister was many things, but stubborn was probably one of her most obvious qualities. Tai’s shitty flirting must’ve been doing something then. Qrow continued on to take Summer and himself to bed.

As he finally reached their dorm room, he felt Summer stir on his back. “Hey, Petals. We’re home,” he said and opened the door to their room. As Summer mumbled sliding down his back, he guided her to her bed and tucked her in.

“You should tell him, Qrow,” Summer mumbled out while lazily plopping herself onto her bed and laying down. She opened her eyes to meet Qrow’s, barely able to keep them open.

He stared at her for a moment, not sure what to say. “Just go to sleep,” he instructed.

“I forgot to give you the picture,” Summer spoke softly, digging around in her sweater pocket. After a moment of tired grumbles, she pulled out a polaroid and handed it to him.

Qrow felt his chest tighten as he looked at the photo. It was slightly bent around the edges from being in Summer’s pocket, but it was a picture of him and Clover. Last night, when their teams ended up just sleeping in Clover and his teammates’ dorm room instead of going back to their own. Qrow had fallen asleep next to Clover, and—he didn’t remember how—it seemed he’d made Clover’s chest his pillow. Clover was hugging him in and also sound asleep.

“You took this?”

Summer nodded, her eyes still lidded. “Raven told me to.”

Qrow paused, noticeably shocked. “Raven did?”

Summer nodded once more, stretching her back, and arching up. “Mhm,” she hummed. “You know, you both get much more relaxed when you think the other isn’t paying attention…” She opened her eyes a little more to properly meet Qrow’s gaze.

‘Cause we’re both not saying what we’re feeling. Qrow told himself.

“Night…” Summer sighed and turned over.

Before Qrow could respond to Summer, his scroll buzzed in his pocket. As he took it out and saw that Clover sent him a message, he’d returned the goodnight to Summer. He glanced back at her, sound asleep, then turned around to read the message.

Have you gotten back to Beacon yet?

Qrow replied: Just got back

A few seconds after his reply had been sent, his scroll started to ring with a call from Clover.

Qrow quickly walked out into the hallway to leave Summer in peace, before answering it. He closed the door with a light click and answered the call before he’d even realized this was their first conversation on the phone. His mouth became dry as he lifted the speaker up to greet him. His scroll felt heavier than normal, and his hands weaker. “H-hey,” Qrow stammered, trying to be aware of his voice and how he sounded.

“Hey! Did you make it back safe?” Qrow could practically hear Clover smiling, his voice was… different on the phone but it still sounded like him: almost unbearably chipper.

Qrow chuckled and leaned against the door. “What? Did ya think my bad luck would take down the plane?”

There was a slight pause on Clover’s side. “That’s not what I meant…” He replied, a nervous tone streaking his voice. Ever since they’d met Clover could tell that Qrow’s semblance was a sensitive subject. He would make small jokes about it sometimes, usually in contrast to his own semblance, but he didn’t want to upset him. Another thing, besides his past and childhood, that he didn’t want to pry about. There was an unmistakable desire to help Qrow be okay with his semblance, even if it was gradual.

Qrow tensed up, realizing his tone wasn’t clear that he was joking. “No, I know! I was just… kidding,” he explained, pausing at Clover’s soft “Oh” then continued. “Yeah, I made it back safe. I’m okay…”

“That’s good,” Clover replied. There were a few seconds of silence, and for Qrow, it felt like an eternity. Since when was speaking on the phone so nerve-wracking? Clover was the first to speak up. “I miss you,” he spoke softly. And with those simple words, Qrow’s heart felt like it could burst at the seams.

“I miss you too,” Qrow mirrored Clover’s soft tone. It wasn’t something he was prepared for, getting so attached to someone so far away. And before he’d met Clover, he had never imagined being so in love with someone. He and Raven were taught that love was a weakness, which even put a wedge between them, despite being twins. It was something so foreign to him when he first got to Beacon. He thanked whatever gods there were that Summer and Tai came into his life. And now he also had Clover, and the thought of losing him—losing that absolute fool that radiated sunshine—terrified him more than any monster he would ever fight.

Clover smiled sadly at Qrow’s response. He was happy he also missed him, but in a perfect world, they wouldn’t have to miss each other. “Maybe I’ll transfer to Beacon,” Clover half-joked.

Qrow gave a defeated laugh, knowing that Clover wanted to but wouldn’t. “You can’t. You have your heart set on joining the Atlas Military.” That also baffled Qrow. An ex-bandit falling for the Golden Boy who wanted to be a cop to do good and bring peace to the world. Personally, he couldn’t see the correlation between Clover’s ideals and his career choices, but he felt it wasn’t his place to question him anyway. Besides, it’s not like he could judge as an ex-bandit. He’d done plenty of bad in his life before he was even 18.

Clover chuckled. “Maybe you could transfer to Atlas and join with me,” he said smugly.

Qrow scoffed. “Fat chance. You aren’t going to get that lucky, Cloves.”

Clover hummed. “Lucky enough to know you.”

Qrow froze and his cheeks felt warm. Clover could be so cavalier about small comments like that: almost always luck puns. Those used to bug him to no end, luck jokes at his expense. His bad luck was just another reason for him to never be truly close to someone. Now, it was a connection to him, and the jokes were just a part of their love language. He still had a… difficult relationship with his semblance, but knowing his opposite—his other half—was around made it better. “You’re such a nerd.” Qrow listened to Clover’s tired laugh, unable to stop from smiling.

“You know you love me!” Clover retorted. However, the two boys instantly froze on either end of the call. “I-I mean… I didn’t mean-” Clover stuttered out frantically, worried the comment would put Qrow off.

Qrow’s entire face was glowing as he listened to Clover stammer and trip over his words trying to take back his teasing joke. In the back of his head, he could hear his own voice. Say it now. “Yeah.” Without giving himself another second to think about it, he jumped into the deep end. “…I do.”

Clover’s stutters had ceased, but Qrow could hear a shaky breath on the other side. “What?” Clover hoped, prayed Qrow would elaborate. He wanted clarification. He wanted to know he wasn’t misunderstanding, and if he wasn’t, he wanted to hear it again.

Qrow bit his lip, mentally pushing himself to talk. “I… love you.” Qrow gripped his scroll in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white. He swallowed hard, feeling a giant pit in his throat. His courage ran out though, he couldn’t wait and hear Clover’s response. “Bye!” Qrow yelled, hung up his scroll, and watched the screen as the call disconnected, hearing Clover call his name as it cut off.

“Qrow! Wait, Qrow!” Clover tried to call out to him but the line was already disconnected. No, no, no, no! Clover froze for a moment, his mind processing what had happened. I love you. The words echoed in his head, and it took another moment again to process that Qrow had said them…to him! Clover let out a shaky breath, feeling overwhelming happiness. It was being overshadowed by the anxiety of not having said it back yet, though. He couldn’t not say it back! He had to call Qrow back, and he needed to say it to him. Gods, he was over the moon, but he couldn’t even think about that as he frantically tried to dial Qrow’s number in his scroll. It felt like he’d lost all control in his fingers; he fumbled so many times. “I need to say it back,” Clover whispered under his breath, tears of frustration stinging his eyes.

Qrow watched the screen of his scroll for a few seconds before letting his arms fall to his sides. He let his head fall back, hitting the door and sinking to the floor once again. His breath trembled, hands shaking. His heart was racing, and somehow, he was out of breath. He felt like he could throw up. And all of these afflictions heightened instantly when his scroll started to ring again. He lifted it to read Clover’s name on the screen. He was calling him back. Fuck. Why didn’t I turn it off?! Qrow watched his scroll ring, unable to move to answer it, only feeling his heart thump against his chest. Gods he couldn’t answer; he didn’t know what Clover would say. But as he decided to pretend to be asleep and let it ring, a message came through, also from Clover:

Please answer!!

Qrow felt his chest tighten, an unbearable weight made him unable to ignore the feeling. Impulsively he jammed his finger on the screen, answering the call. It took a solid few seconds for him to lift the speaker back up to his ear, but when he finally did, Clover’s voice flowed through the receiver. “Qrow, are you there?” Clover hoped he’d respond, he had to know he was there on the other end listening.

“…Yeah.”

“I love you too!” His voice was high and cracked slightly, but he didn’t care. He just needed to make sure he’d said it.

Qrow sucked in a breath, a million thoughts overflowing his head. Had he heard Clover right? It felt like his ears were ringing so loud just from those words. His entire body felt hot, his chest felt heavy and light at the same time, and his fingertips went numb. Qrow almost dropped his scroll when Clover called out to him again.

“Qrow… Did you hear me?”

Qrow exhaled and closed his mouth that had been agape. He licked his dry lips before biting the bottom one and focused back on Clover’s voice. “Yes… No. I - Did you-” He stumbled through a few words, unable to form a proper sentence.

“I love you too,” Clover repeated, less frantic to get it out. He let out a strangled breath, trying to get his breathing back to normal, and rubbed his eyes to get out the tears that had built up.

“You do?” Qrow curled his legs halfway up to his chest, setting his free hand down on his thigh.

Clover hummed happily. “Very much,” he answered.

Qrow teared up, a big smile on his face as he let out a few happy sighs and patted his legs excitedly.

Clover chuckled in response to hearing Qrow’s reaction, only wishing that they were face to face so he could embrace him and give him an overwhelming amount of kisses. But the thought was cut short when Rayne threw a pillow at Clover’s face.

“Clover I’m happy for you and your boyfriend but please be quiet,” he implored, and Vivian and Lucy mumbled tiredly in agreement.

“Okay, Rayne,” Clover responded flatly. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Is it alright if I call you tomorrow?” Clover asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah!” Qrow answered eagerly but cleared his throat when he realized he was being too eager. “…if you want,” he corrected himself.

Clover chuckled lightly. “I want,” he paused, “Goodnight, love you,” Clover spoke softly—so quiet Qrow could barely hear—but held his breath after saying it again. He waited to hear the words repeated back to him; he wanted to hear Qrow say them again.

“Love you too.” Qrow sighed happily as the line disconnected, and he let his hand fall beside him. He tilted his head back against the door, looking up to the hallway ceiling. He couldn’t think of a time he’d been this happy. Ever. He continued to pat his legs with his hands eagerly. The emotions were overwhelming, but he felt like he could fly just from hearing Clover return his feelings. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, getting close to people. He’d always have those reservations in the back of his mind. It was hard to unlearn everything the tribe had taught him, plus, his semblance was always hard to manage. Maybe Raven could also be happy here, and with Tai, if she wanted that. Both of them could have a great life and never have to think of the tribe again.

At the very least, Qrow found himself hoping he’d have these important people in his life for a long time. ~~~ The shrill ringing of Qrow’s scroll pulled him out of his half-asleep daze. It was early—too early—which meant he knew exactly who was calling him. He rolled over from his back to his side, reaching to his scroll that was almost buzzing itself off the side table. Knowing who it was, he answered the call with a quiet, “G’morning, babe.”

“Good morning, my Pretty Bird. Happy Anniversary.”

The smile on Qrow’s face grew wider, but his eyes stayed shut. “Happy Anniversary.” His voice was croaky in contrast with Clover’s bright and awake voice. He’d likely been up for a couple of hours already.

“Late start?” Clover smiled smugly. “Early bird gets the worm,” He teased.

Qrow scoffed while rubbing his face. “Shut up,” he teased back but then sighed heavily, and Clover picked up on the exhaustion in his tone. “Long night…” Qrow paused. “Wish you were here.”

Clover felt a tug in his chest but opted to be positive. It sounded like Qrow needed it. “I know, I wish I was there too. I wish we could’ve been together for our anniversary so I could call you from the living room.” He listened to Qrow’s quiet chuckle, a loving soft smile creeping onto his face.

“You’re such a dork… If you were here you could just say it to my face.” Qrow rolled his eyes, but the fond smile stayed. Clover had always insisted on calling Qrow even if they were together for the anniversary of their first ‘I love you’s’, he’d call Qrow and they’d say it because that’s how they first said them.

Clover hummed. “I’d do both.” Clover paused and looked to the gold ring on his finger. “I can’t wait to marry you next month.”

Qrow’s mood picked up thinking about how the date had gotten closer and closer. He spun his own silver band with his thumb and prayed nothing happened that would cause any delay or sour the service in any way. His luck, even with Clover to balance it, sometimes had perfect timing. “I can’t wait to marry you either. Going to make you my Lucky Charm for life.”

“I love you,” Clover said confidently.

“I love you more,” Qrow retorted, mirroring Clover’s tone.

“Not possible.”

“That’s what you think, Lucky Charm.”

#rwby #rwby v8 #rwby volume 8 #fair game #fairgame #fair game weekend 2020 #fairgameweekend2020 #qrow branwen #clover ebi #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #rwby rewrite #rwby rewritten #post #canon #bo

91 notes · View notes

silentprincess17 · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Things Have To Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga

Chapter 1: Everything goes wrong when you don't have breakfast

Link was having a bad morning. He’d missed breakfast, a cardinal sin, and now he was anxiously darting around the Bazaar, weaving between the trees, in an attempt to see if he could spot a glimmer of blonde hair or a flash of a blue shirt.

She just had to run away. Again.

He sighed. It wasn’t that hard to understand why she constantly gave him the slip, even if he wished she didn’t. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to think such things, especially when he knew it wasn’t really him, she was running from, rather it the sword that was strapped to his back. It wasn’t him she was frustrated with, it was herself. And the sword symbolised how he was apparently fulfilling his destiny and his side of things, whilst she struggled endless with the stone-cold Hylia and had nothing to show for it. Essentially, the sword meant destiny and fate had already set out a predetermined plan for her, and she was currently set for failure. So yes, he could understand why she felt the need to escape what was surely a suffocating sight every day- the boy with the sword that has it all sorted, geared and ready to go, whilst she stumbled in the dark, Hylia’s Divine Blessing evading her.

If only she knew how much he struggled too. He didn’t just pull a sword out a rocky pedestal and boom morphed into Hyrule’s Saviour. He’d trained long and hard too. And frankly, he had felt compelled to draw the sword, it hadn’t been something that was in his control- if he had a choice, then he would also choose to just leave it be in the Lost Woods. It sounded naive and foolish now, but he hadn’t anticipated what the consequences would be when twelve-year-old Link had jumped up and wrapped his hands around that cursed mauve handle. Mostly, the thing he regretted the most about pulling the sword was that he’d effectively doomed them all. Did he want to be the one to basically foreshadow what was now surely coming? No. Another was that it had put a timer on the Princess to find her powers, and he didn’t want to cause her such anguish at being unable to unlock supposed birth-right sealing powers that she clearly didn’t have and didn’t know how to obtain. But… there had been a hidden consequence, one that he couldn’t for the life of him have predicted- when he released the sword from the pedestal, it didn’t just end with him now possessing the mythical legendary blade, oh no. He’d also obtained a whole wealth of memories, memories of past lives, past successes, past failures, and he’d lost whatever childish innocence he’d had then. And it crushed him, having this soul that apparently was doomed in this endless fight, and now he had to live up to them. He had to live up to these past Heroes and by Farore he had no idea if he’d be able to.

Every word that had come out of the Princess’s mouth at his blessing ceremony had cleaved him in two. All those past disastrous events that happened in Hyrule, and all the lengths his predecessors had gone to save the country… Adrift in time indeed. IN TIME. How was he supposed to do the same? And it made him fearful. And he was not easily frightened. He liked to think he was a little bit brave, he would run headfirst into any sort of challenge, be that eating rocks, defeating hordes of monsters, including Lynels, or even redirecting errant guardian laser beams but when he thought about what those Heroes had gone through… He certainty didn’t feel very brave when it came to imagining what exactly he’d have to do, what trials he would have to face, in line with theirs.

He finally finished strapping the sword properly to his back, he’d ran out as soon as he realised she was missing, and he tried to find any distinguishing patterns of her boots nearby. It was a useless venture, because sand shifted, constantly, and as a result any tracks were lost pretty much as soon as they formed. He sighed, deciding to do another very quick run through the Bazaar in case anyone else had spotted her, or she had come back from the baths maybe. He was clutching at straws, he knew it, and he felt that familiar churning feeling in his gut that something was wrong, but he decided to keep calm and check again just in case he’d missed something.

He sighed, even before Urbosa told him how the Princess’s behaviour was in fact coloured by the sword, he could have guessed. One of the biggest signs was that she always looked at it, instead of him. He only wished to tell her that he was just as lost as she was, because yeah sure, everyone Impa stated that he had the Sword that Seals The Darkness. Okay, but how did it do that? How does one go about killing darkness? Monsters he knew. Monsters he’d trained for. But darkness? And the thing that frightened him the most was that most of the past Heroes had fought a man. A power-obsessed, strong-willed and formidable opponent, but still, fundamentally, a man. None of them had fought this… Calamity equivalent that he seemed to be up against. Hence why he was uncertain, and fearful even, if the sword would be enough.

Not to mention how much it pained him that the arrogant idiot bird had managed to find his greatest insecurity, but that was neither here nor there.

But in truth, every time someone mentioned how he was their savour he wanted to cry. Perhaps she didn’t realise that whilst everyone had pinned her as a hopeless case and a lost cause, he’d been saddled with double the expectations to succeed. So much pressure, so many eyes, that he’d all but gone silent. Every word spoken could be misconstrued in some shape or form. Nothing he said was ever safe from scrutiny, so to continue to play the perfect, composed Hero that he was supposed to be, he decided to stop talking. What he wouldn’t give to explain to her that these praises that were lavished on him made him feel sick. Made him feel suffocated. Made him like a liar. Because really, he felt like a failure too- he had no plan other than maybe try and hit the darkness with the sword and hope that works. And the foreboding feeling he had that he hadn’t yet faced the supposedly impending huge trial that most of the other Heroes had, and they had all done said trial well before they obtained the Master Sword. He felt unworthy of it, somehow. All he’d done was train hard, fight and try to eradicate the plague of monsters in the land. He hadn’t travelled through time, he hadn’t transformed into a wolf, he hadn’t lost his sister, or his best friend. Hence why he was dreading meeting Ganon. There was a catch somewhere. He could feel it.

He exhaled heavily, sweat starting to build on his brow. This was why he wanted to tell Zelda that she wasn’t alone. That he knew what she was going through. They were a pair in destiny, fate… even souls after all. But she hated him, his very being, and probably wished he didn’t exist- no correction- she wished the sword didn’t exist, then he wouldn’t have pulled it and wouldn’t have become a direct comparator for her success. It all felt futile sometimes, and he wondered why exactly he was in such a melancholy mood this morning. Probably something to do with not eating.

She wasn’t in the Bazaar. He’d now checked over every stall twice. And Link felt rising trepidation. Of all the places for her to run away, she’d chosen the desert. She’d chosen where the main dissenters of the Royal Family lived. She chosen the one place where it was highly probable that there would be an assassination attempt on her. And he wasn’t there to protect her. Link could freely admit to himself he was scared. What if he didn’t find her in time, what if – No. He had to think positively. And then his eyes fell to his Champion’s tunic, embroidered, as it was, by her hand. Goddesses above, how would he present himself back the Castle if he’d actually lost her this time? And in such a worrisome place too. A stone settled in Link’s gut, as he desperately racked his brains, replaying last night’s events trying to remember if she’d dropped any hints as to where she was going.

He drew a big fat blank.

In the name of Din, where else could she have gone? She had been silent on the way back from Vah Naboris, probably reproachful that he’d managed to find her, yet again. And he had, admittedly, found it suspicious that she’d remained mum, accepted going to the Bazaar, and sleeping in the Inn, and leaving to head to Goron City the next day without a single word of dissent. He should have known that she was planning something.

And now, it was starting to get hot, as he quickly ran off towards the path, wondering if she’d gone back to Gerudo Town. But she’d already said her goodbyes to Urbosa last night... Link sighed, the heat already causing his tunic to stick to his back. It was a desert after all, one couldn’t expect it to get cold during the day, and he hadn’t had time to fill in their canteens, and oh for the love of Farore could he at least get a single sign as to where Her Highness had deigned to grace her presence at. He didn’t want to be beheaded for incompetence so soon.

He saw a small cloud of sand rise in the distance. At this point, it could be a mirage and he was seeing something that his mind had conjured in desperation at trying to find the missing Princess.

And then he saw a flash of red.

And his blood ran cold, despite the heat.

25 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Still - Director Keller x OC (Captain Marvel)

Out Of Nowhere Girl (For Reference): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Author’s Note: I wrote this as soon as I got out of the theatre when I saw Endgame... As the eventual ending to ‘Out Of Nowhere Girl’... Anyway, basically I spent so long talking about these two to @mendelskrull and this fic was basically finished anyway, that I decided to put it out! 😁

UGH. I love them. They must be my second OTP after Lorennic... Now they need a name...

I also realise that he’s referred to as Keller for the majority of this story... 🤔 We’ll just roll with that.

Keller’s astronomy ring is like this.

Disclaimer: We’re going to pretend that timelines don’t exist. / MCU characters/plots/events not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: When Thanos snaps away half the universe, Maliyah loses everything. It’s a long and difficult 5 years, but now the battle is won...

Words: 1830

Warnings: N/A. I mean we talk about stuff that happened in Infinity War and Endgame, so, a little bit of angst.

_____

Remember when I told you you were mine, all mine I couldn't get you, baby, off my mind Me and you we were the real thing You didn't know but I had butterflies 'Cause I knew then, leaning in Baby I was never looking back again Every day changes but it doesn't change The way you make me smile when you say my name And when you laugh, it makes me laugh And when you cry, it makes me cry Yeah like it did back then When we were just beginning And girl it always will I want you, I need you, still And I don't care how many times that story is told Cover to cover, it never gets old Like a fairy tale, gets better and better Boy meets girl and spends forever together Yeah and, oh my God You are my whole world And we're spinnin' When you look my way Everything stops And time stands still

---

The Snap

Maliyah had barely been able to face Keller’s family.

His parents had lost their only son, and their grand-daughter. His sister had lost her best friend, and her niece. Maliyah had tried to make sure they hadn’t lost her too. Turning up on their doorstep two days after their worlds had been utterly devastated, it was nothing more than constant hugging and crying. She should have been there for them before then, but for those first few days she was in too much pain – it was beyond unbearable. The bond between their DNA was very suddenly ripped apart, the brightly lit patterns that used to cross her body were now solid black lines. She’d told him once that was never something she wanted to happen; and now Maliyah had failed to protect him, so these marks of shame were his. Maliyah wanted to stay with what family she had left on Earth, but there was so much to help Carol take care of around the Universe – that was before adding on trying to settle whatever was left of the Xandarian’s. Her home destroyed by Thanos even before he’d done the unthinkable. Maliyah was their Supernova – it was her duty to help them rebuild what they could. It kept her preoccupied, a fact for which she was glad. There was so much pain that those two names bought her she wasn’t able to return to Keller’s family easily. Maliyah knew she shouldn’t, but she wanted to face this alone. There were many memorials around the world to the victims of what Earth was calling ‘the Blip’, but this one was her favourite. If that was even the right way to talk about it. Maliyah touched his name gently, but her lip quivered and pretty soon she found herself with her forehead pressed against the letters and her tears wetting the stone. Why? Why had they taken him from her? Why had they taken their daughter? This wasn’t right. Maliyah’s name should be on this, not theirs. She knew she didn’t deserve to live on, not instead of them. Talia was nothing but innocent, and Keller, he’d pretty much single handily raised her. He was a good man - a better husband and father than Maliyah would ever be mother. And yet she lived... She had never deserved anything less in all her life.

She remembered her final conversation with him. Thanos had taken her home from her, Xandar was no more. And he was coming for Earth for the infinity stones, and then god knows what would happen if he succeeded. “You’ll get him. Maliyah. You’ll stop him.” “What if I can’t? Even with help, what if it just doesn’t happen? What if he wins? With those stones-” “If. IF he gets them, Mali... then you can reverse it. I know you can. I know you will. But it’s a big if.” And that smile he’d give her, of assurance. Keller was always so sure. “And I know it won’t come to that.” But it had, and it had taken her family away from her. Maliyah had watched too many turn to dust with shock on that initial battlefield before pain shot through her. At first she thought that she was dying too, but Maliyah hadn’t been that lucky; curled up in pain and screaming as her body warned her that he was in trouble. Just like that Keller was gone, wiped away so unnaturally that her body still didn’t know how to react. Panic for her daughter had eventually spurred her to the house – still too young to be able to fend for herself alone. Maliyah had found nothing but an empty home. And all she’d felt was empty ever since. It had been hard to walk around with the silence hanging the way it was. Uncomfortably loud. The only real indications that anyone had just disappeared was the computer system was still on, pages of notes with a word half written… drawings and crayons on the floor – too peculiar to look like two people had just left in a hurry. Keller’s astronomy ring sat on his desk in open position – that wasn’t insignificant. He knew what was happening, he’d have left it for her. Maliyah picked it up delicately, closing it back to a single gold band: an unusual choice of wedding ring. She’d worn it on a chain around her neck ever since. It had been 5 years, and some had simply accepted and moved on. Maliyah was one of the few that couldn’t – he’d told her not to give up, and she never would no matter how long it took. She refused to believe that Keller was gone forever. And with the help of the assembled team, constantly in contact over video link, she would get him back; everything would be as it should. Maliyah could afford to wait for eternity…. But his family couldn’t. They needed closure and answers: she vowed to help them.

*** The Aftermath.

Maliyah and Carol arrived on the battlefield together, Earth bound shooting stars. They were used to teaming up by now – and with the Universe corrected, there was only one thing left to do. Win the battle and the war. She knew before the battle was even won: the energy and serenity that suddenly flowed through her could only have one source. How, despite him being a few thousand miles away, Keller’s colours ignited over her skin as she fought. Time to show them what a real Supernova could do… The funeral of Tony Stark was a quiet affair, even if it was well attended. She stood respectfully back, nearer to Carol and Nick than the rest of the group. They were probably her closest friends here, standing slightly forward for Peter Quill – he’d been missing for the past five years too. Maliyah had too much to catch up on. There was a lot of quiet contemplation between the groups. A lot of where to next. For Maliyah there was only ever one answer to that question. Before she jetted off to the stars, or helped anyone with anything. “Maliyah... won’t you stay??” She shook her head at Nick with a small smile, “What’s left of the S.H.I.E.L.D organisation could really use you...!” Carol scoffed, arms folded, “No! She needs to come with me!” She gave Maliyah a soft wink, “What do you say? Marvel and Supernova saving the universe?” Maliyah couldn’t help but laugh, “If you wait for me Carol, I’ll take you up on that... but right now I’ve got somewhere else to be...” “... Right. Of course, Maliyah Keller has somewhere else to be!” She turned from Carol’s big smile and grinned across to Nick Fury with a nod, knowing how perfectly he understood, “You’re damn right!”

***

Flying halfway across America was not what was sending Maliyah crazy. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating so fast as she landed herself softly in front of the country home. Surrounded by acres and acres of land, it was in the middle of nowhere for so many reasons... It reminded her so much of his parents.

The breeze tousled her hair as it played through the trees. It had been 5 long years - or short - but it felt to her like a lifetime. Every time she read those two names on the mural she broke down in tears. It only served to shatter her heart into more pieces. But all that was reversed now... The door opened, and Maliyah didn’t think her heart had the ability to beat as quick as it did. She couldn’t breathe. He was standing in a three-piece suit. Sans jacket. Sleeves rolled up, he placed both hands in his pockets. The sun hit his face, his hair, his eyes; that gorgeous blue she hadn’t seen in 5 lifetimes... and he smiled taking the two steps down to the driveway, she illuminated in blue and white - brighter than she ever had before. His emotion hit her full force and she could feel herself start to cry. She wanted so badly to sprint to him, but he engulfed her. Her senses were overwhelmed by Keller. Something they had yearned for for 5 years.

It didn’t matter, because Jonathan sprinted to her, and suddenly she was in his arms. She couldn’t grab enough of him close to her; and he couldn’t either. “You did it, you did it... I knew you would.” Keller’s voice was soft as he held her to him, breathing her in as much as she was him. He’d woken up in the same place he’d watched their daughter disappear into thin air. The same place he’d done exactly the same thing - but years after... he’d known life without Maliyah for maybe a month. She had been without him far longer. She laughed through her tears, “I think my input was minimal!” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Her colours burning a new level of bright. “We’re back. Because of you.” There was nothing she could say back, it was hardly true but Keller wasn’t about to let her argue with him – she knew that, pushing up on her toes to press her forehead against his, Maliyah slipped the chain from her neck, taking his hand to reunite him with the ring. “I knew you’d have taken it with you.” “I needed you.” “You didn’t give up. Not that I expected you to, Supernova.” Keller pulled her back to him, capturing her lips. “MOMMY!!” Maliyah left Keller’s arms, kiss cut short, to see her daughter now sprinting down the same steps. “Tali!” She ran, skidding to her knees. She was still 6; still her baby. Maliyah had missed to much already, she was glad she wouldn’t miss anything else. She placed her head gently against her daughters, Keller watched with a smile as they both lit up in the same amalgamation of purples, pinks and soft blues. There was a communication there he would never understand, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what it meant.

Maliyah stood, gathering Talia in her arms, and Keller wandered to them, taking them both in his own arms. His girls were both okay. And they were both here. Talia wrapped her arms tightly around Maliyah’s neck and entwined her tiny fingers with his. Keller kissed her again. A real kiss, one she savoured with her eyes closed; gentle, nice and slow. “Stay...” He breathed it. “This time, please stay.” She knew Jonathan wanted nothing more than for her to be here. For them to finally be a family. For Maliyah it had been 11 years: for 6 she’d been unprepared to be a mother, for the last 5 she hadn’t had a choice. Those five years put the three of them into real perspective. She smiled; as if she really had a choice? “I’ll stay.” Maliyah took his hand, “I’m going to stay.”

---

Thank you for reading! 😅

#My little Space Girl deserves her OG story #But I don't feel like I'm at OG level yet I really do #There's much work to be done yet.#Director Keller #Maliyah x Keller #Maliyah #Captain Marvel #183 #Note: His sister knows that she's from Space but his parents don't.#Not that that makes an overall difference to the story - buuut!#It's been sitting in my notes too long and I just kinda want it gone so we're going to get it gone.#I wish I could do these two better justice than this... Buuuuut #They're certainly not my forte #Linzi writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #we'll bury this and move on.#Wont tag Mendo this time

12 notes · View notes

dykexanderharris · 4 years

Text

heartache, i’ve heard, is part of life

(kennedy/willow, heavy mention of tara/willow)

Post-Chosen

It’s May and it’s only been a couple weeks since you watched her hair turn white with magic and felt centuries of the slayer line run through you. It’s May and she hasn’t said it but you think it’s been one year since the last woman she loved died. You have a few reasons for thinking that.

One of the big ones is that it’s May and You’ve learned that May being Apocalypse Month is one of the Scoobies’ favourite jokes. Since Willow was the cause of the last Apocalypse, you figure Tara probably died almost exactly a year ago. There’s also the thing where Xander and Buffy have both been big with the hovering for the last few days. You get wanting to be with friends after a near-apocalypse, you’ve spent a lot of time with Rona and Vi since Sunnydale turned into a crater, but Xander and Buffy have nearly attached themselves to Willow.

But the biggest hint is the way Willow is quiet. In the few months that you have gotten to know her, Willow has been a lot of things, most of them amazing, a few of them kind of terrifying. None of them is quiet. She can be shy occasionally and she can overthink which can look like quiet, but you can always tell that it’s not actually quiet since her eyes do this really cute and expressive thing where it kind of looks like she’s trying to figure out the worlds secrets.

Right now she looks quiet. She talks with same vernacular that you’ve grown so fond of and she smiles at you every time she catches you staring. But she looks quiet and her eyes don’t look complicated at all and there’s sadness there, more than usual. You’re not worried in the stressed and panicking sense, you’re just worried in the concerned that she isn’t talking to anyone about her dead girlfriend.

You recognize that you are definitely someone she can come to, but that she probably wouldn’t be big for conversing with her girlfriend that she accused of making her forget about her dead girlfriend - turning into the man she killed or not -about said dead girlfriend. So, you hope that Willow’s talking to someone but you have an inkling that she’s not going to talk to Buffy or Xander since they both have more recent dead loved ones. You doubt she’d talk to Daw, especially since Dawn has been kind of an asshole to both of you since she realized that the two of you aren’t just screwing because of your common experience of pre-apocalypse lesbianism. You wish you had her confidence, because even you aren’t convinced of that fact.

Th point is, you care, a lot, about Willow. And whether it’s been a year since Tara died or if the grief is just heavier now that there isn’t magic recovery or a First Evil to fight, you want to be there for her. So, when she comes out of the bathroom and into your room, towelling her hair, you just smile at her and invite her to come sit with you.

You listen to her breathe for a while as she flips through a handwritten journal, leaning your head on her shoulder you recognize most of the handwriting as Willow’s but there a more hurried and loopy script running through the pages along her steady and colourful words. You feel when her cheeks life with her smiles as she reads and thanks to your newly enhanced slayer hearing, you can hear the frequency with which she starts swallowing when she comes across full pages of the blue and loopy words.

Feeling her shift as she runs her finger along the edge of the page you shift with her, looking up to her. Softly, you ask, “Tell me about her?”

When Willow looks down, the same quiet in her face as the last few days but a small confusion, you clarify. “Tara. And only if you want to. I know you say you two were private and I respect that, but grief is hard and it’s harder when you don’t talk about it. So, if it’s okay with you, you can tell me about her. Or I can get Xander or Buffy and you can talk to them.”

Willow smiles at you and you really wish this warm feeling in your chest would stop popping up every time she looks at you because you don’t want to be the stereotypical lesbian who says I love you on the third date but she makes it easy. And she pauses and swallows again, and then she closes the journal and looks at you. And she says, “Are you sure?”

And you’re not, because you have this tendency to get jealous about stupid things and you don’t want to put yourself in a place where you might end up jealous of a dead girl and that would be stupid. But you say yes anyway because the hope in her eyes makes it clear she needs this. And Tara sounds like a good person from every account you’ve ever heard about her, plus you’ve got that whole loving Willow thing in common, so she seems like the kind of person you would’ve wanted to know if you could’ve.

With your confirmation, Willow tells you about her. She tells you about her as in the way that she loved horror movies even though she basically lived in one. You learn that Tara used to always get on both Willow and Dawn’s backs about eating healthy but she always kept gummy bears in her backpack in case it turned into a bad day. You listen when Willow admits that Tara thought the two of them were dating weeks before Willow realized she was gay and she laughs with you when you tease her.

And then she tells you about the journal on her lap. It started as just a catalogue of demons and meals and spells and little anecdotes from her daily life but eventually became the story of her and Tara, written out in their own handwriting. Willow mostly tells you about Tara teasing her about how she writes like she talks - in circles until someone tells her it’s okay to stop. You smile into Willow’s shoulder when she points to a period after a run on sentence that lasted over two pages long that is a different colour that the rest of the pages.

She goes through each page and tells you some of the stories and keeps some to herself, and from Willow’s account you can see how everyone views Tara as a perfect person because she seems pretty amazing. But then, a couple months into the journal, Willow starts flipping through pages written in black ink - an odd occurrence when previous pages were pinks or sparkly blues or lime green - with incantations and spells and ingredients and frustrated scribbles. You feel the way she tenses and she tells you about Glory who had made Tara go literally crazy and how she spent days pouring over texts just trying to find something to bring her back and how because of that Buffy died. You don’t correct her, it’s a different battle for a different day, but you do relish in her smile when the loopy writing is back.

There’s a page with some stranger ingredients and Willow tells you it’s the spell that brought Buffy back. You note the different coloured question mark next to the ingredient “vino della madre”. Now Tara’s notes are smaller than before, things like ‘dork’ when Willow pours over how much she loves Tara in the pages. you laugh are surprised that you have felt no jealousy, just sadness that Willow, and everyone, lost her. But you watch as Tara disappears from the margins, not abrupt like last time, but slower, until her only input are small drawings. And eventually she’s gone, and there’s a page that’s been scratched out but you see the way it bleeds onto the next page and figure it wasn’t the prettiest breakup. Willow confirms to you that it wasn’t, she tells you every step she took that ended up with her turning into a terrible and abusive person.

That’s one of the things about her that scares you sometimes, but you don’t need to think about that now. Willow flips through more pages, some of them black, some with colourful writing and fewer and fewer with spells, some with small self-affirmations. And you tease her for it and she blushes and you love her, in all your own stereotypical lesbian glory. She gets to the last page of the journal. Not the last page in the physical journal but you can tell it’s the last one in the way she looks at it.

And the last pages are all Willow, one is about a serum to help Buffy and the other two are about Tara. And then, proving your theory about the day she died, on a page dated May 7th, 2002, in purple ink is one sentence. ‘I love you, always, even when I’m not around.’

Willow gasps as she reads it, and you watch her gasp turn into a sob and she starts crying. You didn’t expect this conversation to end anywhere else, so you hold her and tell her it’s okay until she calms down. She shakes her head, as if to deny what just happened. Then she shrugs, “I’m sorry. It’s just, this,” She points at the journal, “and a couple pictures are the only proof that she was ever...”

She trails off and you get it. You don’t get it, but you think of Amanda who was younger then you but who reminded you of your sister so much and now she’s just a body in a hole that the government plans to fill with cement with no proof that you ever even knew her. You know, somewhere with her is Anya and Spike and Tara.

But Willow’s wrong, because Amanda is the one who encouraged you to forgive Willow, and wherever this goes, Amanda is part of the choices you make. So you kiss her cheek and place you hand on her other one, wiping away the tears there with your thumb. And you nod, “You’re right, she was a whole person and now all that’s left is notes in a journal and a couple pictures. But you forgot something.”

At Willow’s confusion, you continue. “You’re still here, and Dawn’s still here pissed off on Tara’s behalf. She’s gone but she’s still here. So, yeah, it is unequivocally shitty that she doesn’t get to be here so that the world gets to know her. But the world gets to know you and Dawn and Buffy and everyone else that got to know Tara. And I think, that’s plenty since she’s supposed to be my competition or whatever and I think I might like her more than I like you.”

Your last words are teasing and Willow smiles at you, though her eyes are serious. She leans her forehead against yours, running her hand through your hair and sighs wetly. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

And you smirk at her. “I did actually, but thanks for the ego boost.”

It’s easier like this, when you can say serious things but end the conversations lightly and don’t have to sit with the discomfort. Willow shifts to kiss you and is crying when she pulls away. “Thank you.”

And you could say it now, that you love her. That you’ll follow her wherever she wants to go once the apocalypse hangover is gone. But as much as you’re comfortable being a stereotype, you’re not an idiot. You’ve been given what you consider to be the extraordinary gift of getting to date Willow Rosenberg, most powerful witch in this hemisphere. You’re not going to mess that up with as something as stupid as saying you love her off the hinges of a conversation about the dead love of her life. So, you just smile.

#kennedy (btvs)#willow rosenberg #kennedy/willow #btvs fanfic #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #mine #kennedy

17 notes · View notes

shadowsof-thenight · 4 years

Text

When she least expects it - 1

Summary: When Rebecca’s relationship comes to an abrupt and painful end, she finds herself without a home. With her brother currently stationed in Iraq, she turns to the one person she knew she can always depend on—Steve Rogers.

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, sadness

Ship: Steve Rogers x OFC—Rebecca Barnes

A/n: This was written for Star’s Follower Celebration. The prompt was a roommate AU and I intended to write a one shot. However, it turned into a mini series that I hope you’ll enjoy!

Series Masterlist

***

Chapter one

Rebecca groaned as she walked down the street in the pouring rain, this really was not her night. When she had stepped out of the cab mere moments earlier, the rain had been a light drizzle, which was why she’d let the cabbie stop at the end of the street. It was narrow, and this way, he’d have an easier time turning back onto the main street. For Rebecca, it simply meant a slightly longer walk—seven minutes as it turned out, a distance that was negligible in the light of day but felt so long in these dark hours. Especially with the clouds opening up above her, folding the street—her feet were sopping in her ballet flats.

With an annoyed grumble she switched her large overnight bag from her left to her right shoulder; she regretted not grabbing a suitcase when she left the house. In hindsight, it would have been much easier to lug a wheeled trolley behind her instead of carrying a bag that felt heavier by the second. By the time she had finally made it to the apartment building, she was shivering. Finally out of the pelting rain, she was suddenly made more aware of the cold breeze in the night air. Just a little further now, she told herself and took the stairs two at a time—ready to change out of these wet clothes and more than ready for better company than what she had left behind. She whipped a hand over her face to remove all traces of her tears and hoped that her eyes weren’t as bloodshot as they felt.

Two staircases later, she rounded the corner and walked along the narrow communal hallway that would lead to her destination. Her steps slowed, and she suddenly wondered if she was right to assume that there would be a place for her here. She had not called ahead—perhaps he had company. Shaking her head, she decided to keep going. Where else would she go?

Most of the overhead lights flickered, but the final two were out completely, and when she reached the correct apartment, the door was shrouded in darkness. She knew it was a dark cherry wood colour, but it appeared black in the current lack of lighting. She also knew the bell had stopped working months ago and that neither tenant had bothered to fix it. Too busy, they had said. Rebecca knew they couldn’t be bothered, and she honestly couldn’t blame them. They really were busy, and the little downtime they had would not be spent fixing minor inconveniences such as a malfunctioning doorbell. She made a mental note to look into it, if she was granted access.

Finally, she raised her hand to knock on the door, and her eye fell on her watch. She didn’t need light to know it was late. The little hands glowed weakly and though she couldn’t see the numbers, she could make an educated guess. Pulling her fist back before it touched the wood, she wondered if it would be too late now. Would he be up still? She felt stupid for not taking the hour into consideration when she had packed her bag. To be fair, she had not really been thinking all that much. All she had known with absolute certainty was that she needed to leave quickly.

A deep breath in and she knocked gently. Twice, she told herself. She would knock twice. If he did not respond, she would leave and find herself a motel for the night. She needn’t worry though, a second knock wasn’t needed. The quick response of footsteps behind the door strengthened her hope that perhaps he had not been asleep just yet. Though upon seeing him, she realised that he had at least been getting ready for it. His hair was a little messy, as if he had been running his hand through it repeatedly. It was usually meticulously combed and styled. He wore a white sleeveless shirt that had seen better days; the fabric was worn and would probably feel incredibly soft. His day clothes were always crisp, he would not wear this outside. Underneath the shirt, he wore old sweatpants from their hometown college—one he never went to— and it hung low on his hips, displaying the V that made so many women stutter upon seeing it. Then again, he had that effect on women when he smiled. There was no need to show skin.

“Bec?” His voice was full of worry, and when she looked into his baby blues, confusion stared back at her.

“Hey, Steve,” she whispered and offered a weak smile.

A soft yellow light spilled out of the apartment and into the hallway in which she stood, illuminating her drenched figure. Without needing any more prompting, he ushered her in, taking the bag from her shoulder and quickly checking her for any obvious injuries. Finding none, he found his words and asked what was going on. The worry in his voice intensified as he did so. She didn’t even think she could look into his eyes without crying. He had that effect on her—she never could hide her emotions from the man before her.

She opened her mouth to make a snappy remark about her situation, but no sound came out. Trying again with the same result, she sighed and shrugged instead. A single tear slipped from her eye, mingling with the drops of water still falling from her hair.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She hadn’t looked at him, but he could read her body language better than anyone else. So when he placed a hand on her chin and moved her face upwards, she was not surprised. He gently wiped away the tear before pulling her into a tight hug, and she sighed with relief. She had come to the right place. In his strong embrace, she stopped worrying if it had been too late to knock, whether she was bothering him or if she was intruding and overstepping. Steve would never turn her away and he never made her feel like a burden—she had known that deep down. He cared and gave her a safe space, which was exactly what she needed right now.

An involuntary shiver ran through her body, and Steve stepped back. Suddenly, he seemed to realise that they were still standing in the entrance way, the front door barely closed and she was dripping wet. It quickly prompted him into action; he helped her out of her coat. The wet fabric stuck to her arms and she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to overcome it. He understood instantly that she was emotionally and physically drained. Therefore, he bent down and manoeuvred her shoes off her feet before picking up the bag she had brought with her and leading her towards the second door of the rectangle hallway. Rebecca had been here often enough to know that it would lead into the bathroom.

“Why don’t you take a shower, while I make you some tea,” Steve offered, and she smiled gratefully, unable to form words.

He moved around her, collecting towels from the linen closet that stood against the wall between the bathroom and his bedroom. He then stepped into the small bathroom and rummaged through the sink cabinet. From it, he retrieved a bottle of citrus scented body wash. He placed it by the shower and backed out of the bathroom again, ready to leave her to it, but not before he stood before her and kissed her forehead, telling her that he was certain that everything would look better in the morning. Rebecca tried to offer him another smile, but she was uncertain if her face was still cooperating. She really wished she could be as sure as he was, but her gut told her that it would take more than a good night’s sleep for her to feel better about her situation. Of course, she had yet to tell him what happened, so she understood his need to make her feel better.

As Steve closed the door behind him, Rebecca used her shaking hands to peel off her wet clothes—grumbling angrily as they stuck to her skin like her coat had. When she finally managed to remove everything, she wasted no time and stepped under the warm stream of the shower, allowing the warmth to battle the chill that had seemingly seeped into her bones.

Steve stood in the kitchen as he heard her angry grumbles, before the shower finally started and released a small chuckle. Rebecca was never known for her patience, especially when it concerned herself. Quietly, he filled the kettle and turned on the stove. For a moment he wondered if he should send her brother a message, filling him in on her unexpected arrival, but he realised that he would be better off waiting until he knew more. He wouldn’t want to needlessly worry Bucky. His best friend had other things to worry about right now. No, Steve decided. He would deal with this himself—until he couldn’t. Rebecca was one of the strongest people he knew and it was rare for her to cry or ask for help. So for her to show up at his door close to midnight was an oddity that he would need to uncover before pulling her brother into it. Besides, it wasn’t like Bucky could do much from his current location.

The kettle whistled moments after he had heard the shower shut off, and he took two large mugs from the overhead cupboard—filling them to the brim and picking her favourite flavour. It had not occurred to him before, but it was nice to know how she drank her drinks. Convenient too. He didn’t need to ask her, he could just have it at the ready the moment she walked into the room. For instance he knew she only drank green tea, no sugar, no milk. And that was why he was now also sipping orange flavoured green tea, not necessarily his favourite, but it would do.

When Rebecca joined him in the living room, she saw him sitting at the dinner table with two steaming drinks, and she quickly made her way over. Dressed in a thick blue sweater and leggings, she slowly started to feel more like herself again. The clothes she had been wearing earlier were already discarded in the hamper; she would have to remember to wash them in the morning.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, after he’d allowed her a few minutes of silence—in which she had sipped her tea and avoided all eye contact.

Rebecca knew with great certainty that the worry in his voice would still be reflected in his features and that if she looked up now, she would see that crease between his eyebrows. His eyes would be clouded with it, showing off the specks of green in them. She wasn’t ready to see it, not ready to face it. The look on his face would bring her to tears again and she wanted to be done crying. Therefore, she stared at her mug, blowing at the steam the warm liquid was ejecting. Steve didn’t press her. Not yet. To stall, she moved her head to the side and took in the room, even though she knew the place by heart. The small but efficiently decorated kitchen, separated from the dining area by a kitchen island that maximised the storage space. Before the island stood three high chairs, where Bucky and Steve often took their breakfast.

On the other side of the dining table where they were now seated, was the living room. When they had first bought the apartment there had been a thin wall to separate them. It had been the first thing they had knocked down and it made the place appear far bigger. Without looking she knew the living room held a large L-shaped antraciet couch, the long side against the wall and the short side used as a divider with the dining table. Across the long side, a large flat screen stood in an charcoal coloured armoire. The armoire had been handmade by one of their friends, Clint. It fit their home perfectly and provided storage room on both sides of the TV. The walls in the room were stark white. It was clean, organised, neat. Exactly what one would expect from a place where two soldiers lived.

Rebecca was pulled back from her exploration by the clearing of a throat. She knew she would not ignore his question, but she wasn’t entirely sure where to start her explanation. However, she did finally look up at him as she pondered her words. It was a small effort to let him know she heard him and was working on an answer. She took a deep breath, grateful for the room that Steve was granting her. If the roles had been reversed, she would have demanded him to answer faster. Then again, she had always been less patient and a tad more aggressive in her behaviour. She lacked both the laid-back quality that her brother possessed and Steve’s infinite kindness. He was softer, though far more reckless when pushed. In all honesty, Rebecca knew that while she was more bark than bite, he was the opposite. With Bucky to navigate them, they made quite a team. She wished her brother could be here now.

“We broke up,” she finally said, wondering how much she should mince her words with Steve—to protect the man that had burned her. Steve had never really warmed up to her ex, and she didn’t want him to act rashly. After all, he wouldn’t be able to serve in the army he was so loyal to with an assault charge on his record. So perhaps she was protecting him by keeping it vague.

“Why?” Steve gently prodded when silence followed those words. His demeanour was still calm, though she wondered if perhaps he was already plotting a murder in his head. He always had been protective of her. Between him and Bucky, it was a miracle she’d ever gotten herself a date to begin with, let alone a boyfriend.

“He…wasn’t in love with me anymore,” she whispered. “ I wasn’t making him happy.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d simply left out a few details. Major ones, but for the time being, those weren’t relevant, she told herself.

“He’s a damn fool,” Steve grumbled. He truly could not understand a man that did not see how lucky he was to have Rebecca as a girlfriend.

She smiled at his words. A real smile, one she hadn’t felt in a while now. His anger soothed a pain inside her chest. He would always pick her side. Steve would not play the devil’s advocate with her—he stood by her. Except perhaps during her childhood fights with Bucky. He had been smart enough to stay out of those.

“I can’t go back there.” Rebecca softly mumbled, feeling bad for imposing on him. She just needed tonight, she told herself. Tomorrow she could get a hotel room. Her only other option was the couch of her best friend. Not only was that couch far from comfortable, Natasha had just moved in with her boyfriend. They were in that lovey-dovey phase of their relationship, and she would be cramping their style—though she knew neither would turn her away if she asked. She didn’t want to third wheel it.

“You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like,” the words left his mouth without any hesitation. “You can always come here.”

There was very little that Steve would not do for the woman sitting across from him. Not only was she one of his oldest and closest friends, she was like a sister to him. Okay, that was a lie. She wasn’t like a sister, not anymore. That had been the category in which he had placed her for years, but Steve had to be honest with himself—she had left it a while ago. He had stupidly fallen for her, and he wasn’t entirely ready to face that fact yet. He was certain that Bucky would kill him for it and she would pull away from him. Neither was very appealing to him. He’d rather be her friend than just some guy she used to know.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Rebecca conceded with a bright blush on her cheeks. She needed time to catch her bearings, and what better place to do that, than somewhere she felt safe and at home?

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Steve asked after a few more moments of silence. He had noticed that her tea was gone and she was trying to hide a yawn by covering her face with her hands. “Or perhaps we should call it a night.”

“I feel like I could sleep for a week,” Rebecca confessed and Steve smiled kindly before standing up and taking their empty mugs to the kitchen. He placed them in the dishwasher and turned it on then walked back to her and extended his hand for her to take.

“Let’s get you settled then.”

#star's celebration challenge #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x OFC #MCU fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

grapefruitsketches · 4 years

Text

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 7: Pastel

2,278 Words

YanQing, Wen Qing, Jiang Yanli, hurt/comfort, fluff & angst, set around Episode 17 of CQL (at the Yiling Supervisory Office)

“With grey clouds starting to form overhead, she didn’t like that she didn’t know where Yanli was.”

Wen Qing had guests, but that didn’t make her a host. She was busy. Between preparing various tonics and ointments, supervising Wen Ning, her daily trips into Yiling proper to restock supplies, and visiting various patients, she had hardly had time to talk to her brother about the three traumatized Yunmeng siblings now staying in her home. Her guests didn’t seem all that interested in speaking to her anyway at the moment.

Even though she couldn’t dispute that it was easier to work without them under her feet, she wished that Jiang Cheng was awake, that Wei Wuxian was making trouble. She wished, above all, that they would all get better if only to relieve the sullen look on Wen Ning’s face.

Wen Ning had always been upbeat - had been the ray of idealistic optimism to her cynical pragmatism. She needed Wen Ning to be alright, to be happy, and safe. If not, what had this all been for anyway?

As she cleared the empty soup bowls from Wei Wuxian’s table, Wen Qing realized that she hadn’t seen Yanli all day. Yanli had spent most of her time since her arrival acting as the perfect image of a doting sister. She cooked and sat by her brother’s bedside. She even kept Wen Ning company, bringing a smile to his face as she asked him questions about the medicines that Wen Ning was only too proud to answer.

Wen Qing understood Yanli’s impulse well. She had felt it herself during her and Wen Ning’s first nights in Nightless City. Keep busy. Keep the others’ spirits up. Be the rock in the storm that had destroyed everything they’d ever known. If she wasn’t the rock, who would be? Show any sign of weakness and they would be swept away in an instant. Wen Qing understood that this structure, this work towards normalcy, could be a powerful coping mechanism. But she also knew that Yanli had a fever and that she did not want anyone, especially her brothers, to worry about.

Without ever bringing it up, Wen Qing had been keeping an eye on the fever. She had been happy to see that Yanli seemed able to maintain her regular sleeping schedule mostly without stumbling, but Wen Qing wished she would dedicate some time to healing. With grey clouds starting to form overhead, she didn’t like that she didn’t know where Yanli was.

The supervisory office was big, but not that big, and Wen Qing did not see Yanli as the kind of person to wander off into areas of the residence that Wen Qing had not shown her. Yanli was not in the kitchen, or her own quarters, or the library, or at Jiang Cheng’s bedside. Wen Qing quickly checked on the sleeping Jiang Cheng before continuing her search. She had only been outside for a few moments before one drop, then two, then a steady shower of rain covered the courtyard - Wen Qing included. Something about the water… the sudden rain on a previously sunny day, sparked a memory.

The pond.

Where else would a child of Lotus Pier go for comfort than to the nearest body of water?

Wen Qing grabbed an umbrella from her quarters, and set off towards the back of the residence, confident that the eldest lotus would be there.

Wen Qing remembered her and Yanli’s first real conversation, back in the Cloud Recesses. Wen Qing had been walking by the riverbank, grateful that she had brought an umbrella, unsure as always whether she actually wanted to find what Wen Ruohan had sent her for, or whether it would be better if his goals were simply unachievable. She had at that moment noticed a figure, draped in white with pastel purple designs and an elegant hairpiece, soaked, sitting on a rock, and rubbing her temples.

“Yanli?” Wen Qing was surprised to see anyone else out in this rain.

They had talked all the way back. Despite her fever, Jiang Yanli was a lively conversationalist. Wen Qing had wondered whether she bored Yanli. To hear Yanli laugh as she described her brothers’ antics, or sigh as she wondered whether she truly felt love for Jin Zixuan, or if she had just resolved herself to be happy because they would be married regardless… Wen Qing could not think of any stories she could reciprocate with. The happy childhood stories Yanli described, and the innocent romantic worries could only be answered by Wen Qing’s experiences of tragedy, too heavy to be borne by such a light and airy mood. She could not discuss her thoughts right now either. She couldn’t exactly tell a Jiang that she was on a covert mission to spy on the Lans.

Wen Qing was lost in this moment of self-pity as she lead Yanli to the bed and covered her with heavy blankets. When she turned towards her medicine stores to find something for dizziness, Yanli’s flow of musings paused for a moment, then, “Thank you Wen Qing.”

Wen Qing turned back, holding the medicine with a soft smile on her face, “It is my job. I am a doctor after all.”

Yanli started to shake her head, then blinked, reaching to steady her probably still swirling world, “No, not just that, I mean.” She fell silent, looking embarrassed all of the sudden.

“What is it?” Wen Qing had encouraged.

“I admire you.” Yanli confessed, “You are always so strong, looking out for your brother, studying the lessons, cultivation, medicine. I can’t help but envy you sometimes, you know.” Yanli smiled, “You do so much and even then, you found time to help me, to… to listen to me.” Yanli looked Wen Qing directly in the eyes, “It means a lot.”

Envy me? Wen Qing tilted her head in confusion, she whispered under her breath, “Jiang Yanli, it is I who should be envious of you.” A loud knock on the door signalled to her that the other Yunmeng siblings had learned of their sister’s whereabouts, and were ready to bring on some new exciting and happy stories to share. She smiled, and hoped that one day, she and Wen Ning would have more chances for such moments together.

As she approached the pond towards the back of the Yiling Supervisory Office residence, Wen Qing heard a few sniffs. She should have brought some medicine with her. With this rain, Yanli’s fever was sure to be…

But it was not a fever that Yanli was trying to hide this time. Instead, her sniffs came alongside the tears streaming silently down her face. The rain did a pretty good job concealing them, but Wen Qing’s sharp eye and the hint of puffiness around the oldest Jiang’s eyes betrayed the truth.

Wen Qing wondered at Jiang Yanli then. The woman was sitting by the pond, increasingly drenched in the downpour. Despite this, Wen Qing thought that Yanli looked every bit the tragic heroine so often depicted in the fantastic stories and bright, colourful illustrations Wen Qing had loved as a child. She had long assumed such images could only be the product of a very romantic imagination. But here Yanli was. She looked as though she had stepped out of a painting.

While it was good to cry, Jiang Yanli should not have to do so alone, not when Wen Qing knew she was so often the emotional anchor when others needed to let loose. Wen Qing stepped slowly but confidently along the rain-slicked stone path. “Can I sit here?” she asked kindly, gesturing to the rock next to Yanli’s. Wen Qing held her umbrella over her guest.

“Oh!” Yanli started, leaning a bit too far to the left. Wen Qing gracefully caught her at the elbow before she could slip off the stone. Yanli blinked, “Thank you. Yes. Yes of course you can sit. Sorry.” She turned her head away, moving to wipe her tears with the back of her hand.

Wen Qing caught her hand, “It’s ok. I am happy to see you let some of your tears out. It’s not good to keep them bottled up you know.”

Yanli choked out a small laugh, timidly glancing at her held hand, “But A-Xian… A-Cheng… I need to…”

“They’re not here.” Wen Qing cut her off, Yanli would not be the first patient who she had had to talk down, “I am, and you are, and they’re back inside, safe. I want to make sure you are safe too.” Wen Qing gripped Yanli’s hand firmly.

Yanli’s gaze shifted up, meeting Wen Qing’s eyes, she nodded, “Of course. If you are telling me as my doctor I…”

“Not just as your doctor.” Wen Qing corrected, refusing to break the eye contact that was quickly drawing heat to her face, “As someone who cares about you, Jiang Yanli. I’m telling you right now, you can let it out.”

This seemed to be enough to break the already strained dam. Yanli buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. “They’re gone, Wen Qing. They’re all gone. Mother. Father.” Yanli’s shaking intensified, “The Juniors. The Seniors. I think I may even have lost A-Cheng and A-Xian. The things they must have seen… Oh, Wen Qing, I’m just… I’m so useless!” Yanli wailed, folding over onto Wen Qing’s shoulder.

Useless? Wen Qing pet her awkwardly on the back, unsure how to even begin refuting such a baseless statement.

The crying stopped, but Wen Qing could feel that Yanli had not relaxed. If anything, she had tensed in Wen Qing’s arms. “It’s because of me he lost his golden core, you know.” Yanli whispered, muffled by Wen Qing’s robes such that Wen Qing could only barely make her out.

What? Wen Qing took Yanli firmly by the shoulders and pushed her back into an upright decision, “No. No it was not.” Wen Qing did not even bother to quell her fierce tone, or to leave room for the possibility that Yanli was right.

“If I… if I had been awake, if A-Xian hadn’t had to go get medicine for me, A-Cheng wouldn’t have been able to slip away.” Yanli’s voice was eerily quiet after the loud sobs moments before, “I should have kept an eye on him and then…”

“And then the Wen soldiers would have stopped looking for you? And Wen Chao would forget about you, would have stopped wanting to set Wen Zhuliu on any of you that he could get his hands on? That’s what would have happened if you had not had a fever?” Wen Qing shook her head firmly, “No. No it would not.”

“But if I were stronger, if I had ever properly formed a golden core myself I at least could have helped instead I just…”

“When we were younger, my brother had some of his spiritual cognition forcibly taken while I sat right there, beside him.” Wen Qing hadn’t really meant to say that out loud, to cut Yanli off, but it had gotten Yanli’s attention. Her eyes had gone wide.

“Wen Qing! I’m… I-I can’t imagine what that must… you have been so strong.”

“Are you not going to blame me for not stepping in front of my brother? Or pulling him aside?”

“No… why would…?”

“I could have saved him then a lot more easily than you could have saved Jiang Cheng, while you were recovering from a fever and severe shock.” Wen Qing caught Yanli with a steady gaze, still holding her at arm’s length, “So if you are to blame for Jiang Cheng’s golden core, then I should blame myself for failing to save Wen Ning, for not saving more of my clan, when I had the chance. Is that what I should do?”

Yanli fell silent. Wen Qing tried to maintain her hard look until Yanli admitted she was wrong, but her chin betrayed her, wobbling despite herself, and she could feel the pricks of tears of her own threatening the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, Wen Qing.” Yanli reached out and gently stroked the other woman’s trembling jaw, before snapping her hand back quickly, “Sorry.”

Wen Qing reached out, cupping the side of Yanli’s head in her hand, “Please, no more apologies. You’ve truly done nothing wrong” Yanli smiled and leaned into her hand.

Just as quickly as the rain had started, it stopped. Yanli pulled her head back from Wen Qing’s hand, as Wen Qing withdrew her other hand from Yanli’s shoulder. They giggled, breaking the tension of the warmth they’d each felt at the other’s touch, and looked out over the pond. Fresh sunbeams danced on the water’s surface, kissing the petals of a single lotus, glorious in its full bloom.

“Come.” Wen Qing commanded, pulling Yanli up beside her, ”Let’s get you into some dry clothes.” Wen Qing put a hand to Yanli’s forehead and tutted, “You will never recover if we don’t warm you up and make sure you rest.”

“Mmm.” Yanli agreed, taking the arm Wen Qing offered.

Wen Qing still had medicines to prepare, patients to tend to, shopping to do, and all that on top of her and Wei Wuxian’s research. But she was even busier than that. Each and every day, she made time for Yanli. And whether they cooked together (Wen Qing could cobble together a subpar version of the lotus and rib soup now) or prepared tonics (Jiang Yanli picked up the importance of maintaining temperature and the various scents of different medicinal herbs quickly), they treasured this time. Together, they formed their own little oasis, where they could, for at least a little while, ignore the storm building just outside.

#untamed spring fest #the untamed #yanqing #jiang yanli #wen qing #mdzs #my writing

24 notes · View notes

randomoranges · 3 years

Text

these blurbs are recycled. back in 2015, i had written these for another teacher au verse for another fandom. i never got around to posting them for the other fandom [i don’t think so. if anything they’re on my old LJ somewhere, but anyways.] i decided to re-read them and update them a little. these are based on true events and some wishful thinking.

the wishful thinking part is that i really would like to have an Edward lamao.

Teaching AU

Planning

Étienne had no idea what it was that had possessed him, when he agreed to this contract. Sure, he had a degree that said he could teach, yes, he actually did want to work, but he had no idea how to organise his lessons and the curriculum only helped him so much. He could do anything he wanted and the idea was overwhelming to say the least. That was the way art was – basically, he could have the kids do whatever project he so desired, so long as they ended up learning whatever it was the Progressions of Learning said. It didn’t matter how it was the students learned about primary colours, so long as they did. Étienne would have preferred some guidance – some left over projects from the year before to at least get him started and guided.

He was still a little shell-shocked. This was his first contract, the staff was nice, but the school was enormous and he felt as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It didn’t help that he was the only art teacher in the building and therefore had no other art colleagues on hand, (why had he agreed, why?) He would have liked to been able to exchange ideas with someone else – someone who knew the program and had done this for a few years – who knew the school.

Étienne sighed and tried to calm down his racing heart. He hated feeling like an incompetent. He could come up with projects easily, but – would the students enjoy them? Would they be able to do them? Would they breeze through the project in thirty minutes instead of the four periods he had planned? And then there was the grading – the groups – so many groups, so many projects and thus, so much grading. How did one manage it all? How did teachers not sign their souls over when they started?

There were high hopes riding on him and he didn’t want to disappoint.

If he was honest with himself, Étienne would admit that he had spent the past two weeks fretting during sleepless nights over this job and that so far, it was more stress than fun. He hated this. He missed his free time. He missed going home and doing something for himself. Something fun. He was always bone tired when he got home and there was always something work related to do; e-mails, grading, planning, preparing, thinking – thinking – thinking. Even when he tried to sleep, his brain would kick into gear and play over the days lessons and over think the upcoming ones. There was no break. Ever.

But he wasn’t one who gave up.

He would show them, damn it. He would show the man who hired him that he had made the right choice.

Even if it meant more sleepless nights and more after hours at school trying to keep his head above water.

Étienne sighed and opened up another tab on his computer, looking for some inspiration. At least the school was quiet now.

Printer

Edward didn’t know why, but somehow or other, he had decided that this year, he would make the new science exam, since apparently, the one the school had used last year was garbage and he had So Many Great Ideas.

Even though he had three other colleagues who equally taught fifth grade science, he had volunteered to do it, to show that he was willing to be part of the team, help out, and get involved. Or something equally wonderful and daft.

That was fine, except now he found himself alone, in the teacher’s room, on a Friday night, two hours after classes had let out, trying to coax life into the printer.

He wanted to go home.

These exams needed to be printed now, so that they could be looked over on Monday and then distributed by Tuesday. Therefore, now was not the time for the printer to stop working, thank you very much.

Edward would have gone to a different printer, but this was the only decent photocopier that could staple and hole punch the documents as well. He would have asked another teacher, but it was past six and no one was left in the school. Well, no one he knew of. No one in their right mind, really.

He was tired, hungry, on the brink of a nervous breakdown because of this stupid printer, stressed, anxious and overworked. He had piles of marking to do this weekend and he had lessons to plan. To top it all off, today had been a day six and he hated those. (It was the one day in his schedule where he didn’t have a specialist and of course it fell on a Friday, when the kids were more excitable. He’d tried to make his afternoon easier by putting on a movie, but that had been met with only partial success.)

It was a lot. It was too much. Why had he ever agreed to any of this? Why did anyone ever agree to this? And most importantly, how could anyone ever even think that teachers’ had it easy? This was anything but. Sure, he loved his students, would do anything for them, but.

He let out a frustrated cry and slammed his hand on the printer. There was no way the paper was still jammed or that the ink cartridge was low. He tried rebooting the machine, but he got the same error message as before.

He was going to give up.

He had let everyone down.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten so involved; he should have kept his mouth shut.

He should have minded his own business.

He should have – he let out a mangled sob and then heard a soft cough from the door.

Edward spun around quickly and wiped his eyes. He wasn’t alone anymore.

He squinted at the door and saw the new art teacher – Étienne. What was he doing here? At this time? Why wasn’t he home?

“Late night?” He asked, all smiles and casualness, but Edward had a feeling that Étienne was just hiding his own exhaustion behind his friendly smile.

“No – I mean – yes, I mean...” He looked at the printer and wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Printer problems?”

“Yes... and I was almost done. Well, for the day. Not like we’re ever done.”

Étienne laughed and stepped inside the dimly lit office. There had been daylight before, but he hadn’t bothered turning the lights earlier, too absorbed in his work.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Go ahead. It can’t get any worse than this. Although, if you fix it, I might just want to kiss you.” He joked and then realised how that sounded. He was about to apologise for the comment, but Étienne offered him a smile and a soft laugh instead. Edward stepped aside and let Étienne have a look. Étienne turned on the lights and Edward squinted at the sudden bright lights.

Étienne looked at the printer and hummed in concentration. He opened the tray, checked for a paper jam, and Edward wanted to tell him that he had done all of that already, but, well, Étienne could have the pleasure of finding that out for himself.

It took Étienne a little over an hour, during which they exchanged polite conversation. Edward tried to print his document, when it seemed that it would work, but every time, without fault, the printer stuttered or printed out blanks, much to both of their discouragement.

Finally, after four threats of setting the damned thing on fire, three litanies of curses and one break to cool off, the photocopier finally spat out Edward’s document.

Edward first kissed the stack of freshly printed-paper and then launched himself into Étienne’s arms.

Art Room

Edward looked at the small mountain of exams he still had to grade and groaned. He hated the end of term for many different reasons and this was definitively one of them.

He had more grading than he cared to do and the report cards needed to be filled in afterwards as if he didn’t have enough to do already.

It was a good thing he was on top of his grading.

He could only imagine what it would be like if he wasn’t.

Actually, he didn’t want to imagine.

At least he only had twenty-eight students to deal with. He had no idea how Étienne managed. He’d drown. He’d never be ahead. There was no way. Sometimes, he looked at Étienne correct projects and he wondered how he did it – how he decided what was full marks and what deserved less. Étienne had explained it to him once; had shown him his very detailed rubric, but even then.

Edward threw his red pen down and fished out his cell phone. He needed a break. He wanted to go home and forget about all of this. He wanted to pretend he was a regular man with a regular 8 to 4 job that didn’t follow him home. He wanted to go on a date with his boyfriend and not pass out on the sofa by nine-thirty like some ancient dinosaur man.

He opened up his conversation with Étienne, typing out a new message quickly.

“Are you almost done?” He typed out. Maybe, if Étienne was nearly done, he could use it as an excuse to head home.

The reply came a few seconds later, “Not even close. You?”

Edward sighed; so much for an earlier night. “Likewise. I need a break. Mind if I pop by yours for a bit?”

“God, please. I need a distraction something fierce.”

Edward put down his phone and stretched luxuriously, letting out a groan. His neck was stiff and his shoulders were sore, but standing up felt good.

Étienne’s art room was two floors below his own classroom and they had made the art room their own little meeting point when they wanted to sit together away from everyone and everything else. The art room’s doors had no windows, there was a comfortable plush couch in the back of it, and there weren’t any other classrooms beyond it. Therefore, it was the perfect place for some quiet time together.

Edward made his way towards the other room and took a moment to listen to the quiet of the building. There was something soothing and a little eerie about a quiet school in the dead of the night. He thought it was calming. It was different from the regular hustle and bustle of the day, with the students running down the stairs after class, before class, during class being their rowdy selves. Now, he could hear himself think and breathe.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Étienne greeted him at the door with a pleased little smile.

Edward couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He liked the fact that he could meet up with his boyfriend like this. He had friends who wondered how it was they ever had anything to talk about when they worked at the same place. It worked for them. They made it work. If anything, it meant that Étienne understood his work reality and vice versa. They both knew how demanding it was to teach and so, they never fought over the other “being lazy and not having done a chore” or something. Edward liked that they had the morning and evening commute together, even if they didn’t say anything. Just being together and sharing the same space was enough.

They exchanged tired, fond smiles and Edward closed the door behind him, before pulling Étienne close for a hug, leaning back against the door.

“God, you look how I feel.” He told Étienne.

Étienne laughed and gave him a one over. “I can say the same about you, Murphy, and yet you’re still a sight for sore eyes.”

“Kind as always, Maisonneuve.”

“Only for you.” Étienne said, soft, and closed the distance between them, cupping Edward’s cheeks with his hands to press a kiss to the corner of Edward’s mouth.

“No. Kiss me proper, damn it. I need something to survive this hell night.” Edward pouted.

Étienne’s laugh was more of a rasp, but he was never one to refuse Edward a kiss. He pulled him closer and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, looking into those eyes he loved so much, before he kissed him properly this time. Edward sighed against him, held him closer and chased another kiss when Étienne made to pull back.

This was by far the greatest perk of working with his boyfriend. It wasn’t as if they used every chance they got to make-out, but it was nice to know that they could. That when Étienne needed a hug they could sneak one in behind closed doors and that when they were both doing their usual unpaid overtime, they could indulge in a little moment or two to make the night a little easier.

After Hours

Parent-teacher interviews were finally over and the desks and chairs had been put away. Tomorrow was a PED day, but at least it meant a reprieve from the kids, even if they still needed to be in at the same time and then have to sit through meetings that could always be summed up in an e-mail but never were.

Even though Étienne was exhausted and he wanted nothing more but curl up in bed and sleep until spring, there was a get together in the staff room and he could go for a little socialising. It wasn’t as if he had time to see his friends anymore anyways.

Being the new teacher, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to make new friends, but Edward was there and so he figured he could hang out with him. If anything, there was free booze from the looks of it and that in itself would make this a little more interesting.

Luckily, being the art teacher meant that even if he didn’t really know the other teachers, they knew of him and that he existed in the school. They all exchanged polite hellos and congratulated themselves on surviving the night, before toasting to that.

Étienne found Edward by the back of the room, sitting on one of the couches. He seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with the other fifth grade teachers and Étienne figured he might as well join them, even if just to sit somewhere.

“Excellent, I thought you had left.” Edward said with a bright grin and Étienne thought that maybe this wasn’t Edward’s first drink, judging by the pink of his cheeks.

“Nah, you’re my ride home, or did you forget?” He joked. Honestly, the rides home and to school were a life saver. He needed to get Edward a proper Christmas thank you gift just for that. And also because Edward had offered him friendship when it seemed as though he would be alone in this new school and drown in his own feelings.

They exchanged a few anecdotes from the night, until one of the gym teachers showed up with a special bottle of whiskey and a stack of mismatched teacups.

“Looks like things are going to get interesting!” Edward grinned at him. Étienne could only nod as he was handed a cup.

The janitor came by to kick them out around eleven, when he had to arm the school. They didn’t mind, really, since they did want to head home and they did have to show up to school the following day, even if the idea of calling in sick and sleeping in seemed oh so alluring.

Étienne’s head was spinning a little and he wasn’t sure if it had to do with the extra cup of whiskey or the fact that Edward had been pressed close to his side, all evening long, with their legs touching and shoulders bumping into each other. However, for once in his life, he was happy to have the cold November air blast him in the face when they stepped out.

If anything, it had been an excellent way to end the evening and he had connected with a few other teachers. Especially Edward. Edward was fast turning into a potentially Real Friend. Friend he could meet up with outside of school type.

“You ready to head home?” Edward asked, bundling up in his scarf and coat. Étienne liked the rosy tinge to his cheeks and wondered if it was the cold, the booze, or a blush. For half a second Étienne had a vision of going to home to someone – of going back home with Edward and he mourned the fact that he wasn’t – that there was no one home waiting for him and to kiss him goodnight.

“Yeah; I’m beat. You?”

“I’m okay. I guess I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Around 7h30?” At least he could sleep in an extra thirty minutes.

“Sure looks like it. Wanna grab lunch during break?” He threw out, feeling bold. They’d never done lunch before. They kept it at the lifts, which were already nice, even if sometimes they were quiet. Edward seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. His cheeks taking on an interesting shade of pink that Étienne wasn’t sure if it had to do with the cold, the booze, or something else.

“Sounds like a plan.” He finally said and nodded to himself.

Étienne grinned feeling light-headed and giddy.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #teacher au

2 notes · View notes

lailaliquorice · 5 years

Text

hold my hand and we’re halfway there

prompt from the lovely @qualquercoisa945 - “Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand” with parrlyn. I hope you like it ❤️

the aim was fluff, and while it’s sat on the emotional hurt/comfort border I think it’s soft. I’ve been thinking of writing something like this for a while; writing a letter to my younger self was my first bit of homework from when I was in counselling and I’ve always thought it would be interesting to have one of the queens do that. and the quote cathy says is one of my all time faves. could have made it longer but I have another 7 prompts to do!!

The letter in Anne’s hands felt like it weighed more than the world.

It had taken a while of thinking beforehand, but Anne had eventually made the enormous step to start counselling. And one of the first pieces of ‘homework’ she’d been given by her therapist was to write a letter to her old self. She could say whatever she wanted to say to the Anne of the 1500s, be it an apology or a congratulations or just a rundown of everything she had yet to experience. Whatever she thought would be the most helpful.

After folding it up on her desk, she turned to look over where Cathy had been sat on the bed to give Anne the morale support she needed while letting her have the space to pour her heart out on paper. She’d been by Anne’s side throughout her counselling journey so far; always coming with her to the sessions, letting her cry or rant or ramble or laugh afterwards if she needed to while telling her she was proud of her. Currently she was curled up like a cat in a patch of sunlight from the sun shining through her skylight, having fallen asleep while Anne was working, and Anne couldn’t help but smile at how adorable she looked.

Craving the comfort of her touch, Anne crawled across the bed to lie behind Cathy with her arms wrapped around her waist. Cathy stirred slightly as Anne settled down, humming a sleepy greeting as she turned her head to smile at Anne over her shoulder. “You ok?” she murmured quietly.

“Yeah, ‘m alright. Just wanted hugs,” Anne said, burying her nose into the crook of Cathy’s head and closing her eyes. She wasn’t lying when she said she was fine, but writing to her former self had left her feeling a bit fragile and in need of her girlfriend’s touch to ground her back to their present reality. “I finished the letter,” she added after a moment of quiet.

Cathy nodded understandingly, grabbing one of Anne’s hands and pulling her closer. “That’s really good,” she said, her caring tone obvious even though she was facing the opposite way and her voice was still raspy with sleep. “How’re you feeling? Dou you think it’s helped?”

Anne shrugged. “Yeah, think so. Felt a bit weird at first but then it got easier. Think I got a bit carried away really.”

Shaking her head, Cathy said “I think that’s a good thing that you had a lot to say. What did you tell yourself?”

“Her. Tell her.”

Cathy rolled over to look at Anne as she corrected her. “You’re thinking of your old self as a separate person?” she asked, but there was no judgement in her eyes as she met Anne’s gaze and held her hands.

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I am a different person. I look different, I sound different, the only thing that’s still the same is my name and my memory. And my scar,” she added as an afterthought, swallowing heavily at that.

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure if that counts as trying to accept your past,” Cathy said, not unkindly in the slightest. She moved one hand to cup Anne’s jawline as she continued. “I know what you mean, I feel the same too sometimes. But you can’t think of yourself back then as a different person entirely. A different version of yourself, maybe, but she was still you.”

Anne didn’t react for a moment, other than a muted nod as she covered Cathy’s hand with her own and closed her eyes. “Hey,” Cathy said gently, prompting her to open her eyes again. “I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well with all of this, even writing that letter must’ve been really hard. I’m always here for you and I’ll never not be proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Anne mumbled, smiling softly.

After a minute or two of quiet, she continued in a stronger voice. “I told her that our story isn’t done. That we’ll get to tell it our way eventually, and we’ll find people who understand us and believe us. I said I was sorry for everything she’s got to suffer through before she becomes me. And she’s allowed to feel hurt and betrayed and stuff. And I told her… I told her I was proud of her.”

Cathy was beaming with pride when Anne looked up at her. Anne shuffled forwards to wrap her arms around Cathy’s neck, comforted by the feel of her curls tickling her cheek and the smell of the floral perfume she liked to wear. “You know,” Cathy started softly, “there’s a quote I stumbled across a while ago which I think applies to us more than anyone else on this Earth.”

“What?”

“The ghost of the woman you used to be would be so proud of the woman you have become.”

Anne couldn’t help but cry at that, but it was a happy sort of crying that came from the feeling of someone knowing her so well it was humbling. “Love you,” she choked out, leaning out of Cathy’s embrace to kiss her lightly. She could feel Cathy’s smile beneath her lips and it made her grin too when they broke apart.

“I love you too,” Cathy said, eyes a little misty as she wiped Anne’s tears away.

She sighed under Cathy’s gentle touch, her face peaceful for a while before her brow furrowed in thought. “I had an idea,” she spoke hesitantly, glancing up at Cathy’s eyes for a split second before looking down at their joined hands. “I… I want to go back to the Tower. Find where I’m buried and read out the letter. I dunno, it feels like something I need to do.”

“You think it’ll give you the closure you need.”

Anne nodded at Cathy’s words, once again floored by the sheer understanding in her tone. “Yeah,” she nodded, then looked up at her and spoke in a small but hopeful voice. “Go with me?”

“As long as you hold my hand,” Cathy teased lightly, squeezing Anne’s hand as she said it.

Anne’s snort of laughter made Cathy smile brighter. “If you insist,” she retorted in a voice that matched Cathy’s teasing, but her eyes shone with gratitude that Cathy wasn’t going to let her go alone.

She knew just how much of an enormous venture it was for Anne to suggest going to the Tower of London; the Queens had been invited there for press near the start of their West End run, and while Kat’s immediate panic attack had been the official reason they all refused they hadn’t missed Anne’s face draining of colour at the suggestion either. That night had been their very first movie night all together, with a still-trembling Kat held in Jane’s arms while a very grey looking Anne spent the entire film curled into Cathy’s side as far away from Jane as she could possibly manage. Things had changed since then, in every aspect.

Cathy opened her arms as Anne wriggled forwards to cling onto her again, kissing her hair as Anne hid her face in Cathy’s shoulder. Things had changed in every aspect indeed, but she couldn’t imagine spending her second chance any other way. “Tomorrow?” she asked, resting her forehead against the top of Anne’s head. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Anne moved her head in a slight nod, hugging Cathy even tighter. “Tomorrow,” she echoed, her voice muffled by both her emotions and Cathy’s collarbone. She could feel anxiety crawling in her stomach at the thought to confronting the place where her first life had come to an end, but so long as she was holding Cathy’s hand she would never have to face her past alone.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #parrlyn #anne boleyn #catherine parr #laila's writing

84 notes · View notes

whats-the-story-tc · 4 years

Text

14th of February, 2020

“The One with the Long Way Home”

[THIS IS GONNA BE REALLY LONG, CUZ A L O T WENT DOWN, BUT THE ENDING IS REALLY GOOD. PROMISE.]

Another day, another flannel. And y’all know what’s funny? Yesterday, I said V has a shirt similar to what I wore. A day later, she puts it on. I hate her.

Physics first thing in the morning, and the teacher asked me to fetch some tests that we left in our classroom. As I went outside, and looked towards the teachers’ corridor, I spotted an oddly familiar wristwatch on an oddly familiar hand. I step back a little, so I can see the person in question better. Bingo, it’s V — and she was cutting paper. Blood froze in my veins as I walked away. I didn’t remember her promising us a test. Seconds later, I remembered that one of the younger boys I know from rehearsals told me they’re writing a test in V’s class, in second period. Thank God.

English with V. Turns out, she did have some papers for us, too, but it was only classwork. Didn’t take a minute to recognise the metaphors in the exercise. Meanwhile, V took her dice out of her pocket, twirling the bag in her hands and fiddling with its strings. “Uh-oh...” I muttered. “I’m just playing with it, don’t be scared.” she told me, with the trademark half-smile.

Turns out, my solutions were all correct. Sometimes, I explained them to a confused Art Friend before V could, but she didn’t seem to mind much. I think she’s used to me not having much control over my words. She lets me speak. But when she did get into full-blown story mode, when Know-It-All asked her something... things got interesting. V, sitting on the edge of her desk, looked at him when she started speaking — then turned to me. As in, looked me directly in the eyes all the while she was explaining whatever she was explaining, for about half a minute or so. It wasn’t easy to keep eye contact, but I managed somehow. I’m getting better at it. When she finished, she looked back at him briefly, before walking back to the blackboard. I didn’t know what to make of it. I still don’t. It’s been two days since, and I get butterflies thinking about it.

V asked us if we could recognise what kind of stylistic thingamajig this one quote was. After thinking a lot, as I recognised it, I just couldn’t find the word, I blurted out: “Metonymy!” “Why?” V asked me. “Cuz that’s what first came to mind!” I surprised V to a grin, the rest of the class laughing as well. “I wish it worked like that.” she said.

But here’s the funny part. Know-It-All had no idea what hoarfrost meant (it was in one of the quotes), and thought it was a plant. The look on V’s face... if eyes could kill, he would’ve turned to ashes. The poor woman was shocked. She fully pulled out her phone, googled that shit, and walked up to him with the image search results on her screen. I think Incessant Questions Guy also asked to see it, and, though I don’t remember everything she said, she definitely called him “City Kid”. I was howling with laughter.

Then I noticed. V types with only her right hand. The same way I do. I raised my hand immediately, and asked her “Sorry, off-topic question, but did I notice correctly that you type with only one hand, Miss?” I think she thought I was gonna call her out on it, because she said “Yeah. That’s what I got used to.” “Finally someone!” I answered. “I spent my whole life getting picked on for this!” She didn’t say anything, but someone else did. “Another similarity.” said Comparison Boy. Oh, the irony. Out of all people, it’s her having this in common with me. I think it would be easier to list our differences than what we have in common.

After V called Blonde Boy in the Back out on him doing fuck all in class, he didn’t take it very well. As we were waiting for our next class, I overheard him tell his friend “What’s going on with this [V]? She’s a dick, that one.” I had to physically remove myself from there so I didn’t say anything. Does discipline immediately mean someone is a dick these days? I’m afraid for my generation.

I don’t remember where my mood started going downhill. It must have been around homeroom, where things got pretty serious. Serious as in my stomach still sinks thinking about it.

V’s presence in the next period made it slightly better, but didn’t solve things completely. “You know what’s funny?” she turned to me and Pocketwatch Friend, after I said that the other class should get their own loudspeakers (which, as V informed me, they did). “That [this one teacher] thinks yours is free property! [The one she was plugging in] is the other class’, as they took yours, then [another class] took it elsewhere, and then [that teacher] took it like it was free property!” Bless her soul, she was so riled up.

Now, because these loudspeakers were a little different, V had to choose a different spot to sit. That very spot was the other side of the desk in front of ours — placing V in a way where she was facing me directly. Meaning I actually had to watch the film. As soon as Tatyana appeared with that extra ass hairdo, I said “Shame about that hair,” making V grin and repeat it immediately. And, when I pointed out that Tatyana is the only one wearing colour, my favourite absolute unit of a woman paused the film just talk about it, calling it a “good discovery”. I feel valid.

After class, I thought I’d be cute and help her out a little, and unplug the loudspeakers, as well as take them back to their original place, receiving a “many thanks” for it. As I told Pocketwatch Friend, whom I dragged with me, “I wouldn’t carry anyone else’s shit.” Not true, cuz I help everyone and their mothers cuz I can’t say no, but anyway. When I went back to our classroom, V was still there, giving the Onegin tests back to my classmates. Naturally, I went to check mine. “It’s always the names!” I said, looking at what I got wrong. “Always...” I heard quietly from the other side of the teachers’ desk. V wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her, however, that the actress playing Olga, Lena Headey, is the one playing Cersei in Game of Thrones. When Art Friend and I told her, she started grinning, all wide-eyed. “I didn’t even get that! You learn something new every day.” She was still grinning about it when she walked away.

After that, I started to think about graduation, totally randomly. What happens after. If V and I will stay in contact. How could I possibly ask her something like that. I kept spiralling into things, and took the longer way home, thinking more and more, until I pushed myself to the verge of tears for absolutely no reason at all. Honestly, though. I still don’t get why I did that. There wasn’t a reason.

But let me tell you what there was this evening — a school dance. There is always one towards the end of winter. And once I finished training, I ventured into the crowd. The day couldn’t end with me crying alone at home and writing a sad post on it. I wouldn’t let it. And this is where Fate kicked in, as everything, that happened from then on, was a string of coincidences aligning a very particular way, too particular for it to be coincidences anymore.

I walked around in circles, eyes sharp, making small talk with a couple people along the way, looking for her, but not finding her anywhere. But... that couldn’t be. Every teacher was here, even the ones who never attend anything. There was no way she wasn’t somewhere among all these people. And as I made my way deeper into the crowd, I spotted a familiar shirt. She was sitting in the very front row. A judge. Every class has to present something, you see, as there’s a contest every year, judged by teacher. Well chosen, I thought to myself. V always sees everything.

But this also meant, that if I wanted to talk to her, I’d have to stay until everyone is done, with either a dance or a video. Am I seriously staying until I haven’t spoken to her? Maybe. Fuck it, I’ll do it. You only live once. - I texted to Pocketwatch Friend. Are you sure this is what you want? - she replied. And no, I wasn’t. No matter what was happening, my eyes were on V. The scoring paper in her hand, the pen in her mouth, the way her shirt collar was open, exposing the nape of her neck... unreachable, now physically, too. On the verge of crying, I waited for my Dad to stop talking to my coach so we could leave. I couldn’t take another minute of this.

Outside, I told Dad that I wanted to walk the long way ‘round home, because “today has been a lot” and “I want to think”. Then Dad posed me a good solution, so I wouldn’t be alone: “Why don’t you walk me home then?” As soon as he told me there was cake at theirs, I was sold. I hadn’t eaten in a while by then, and I would’ve needed some energy for crying anyways, so it definitely felt like a good solution. And it definitely was good cake, even though I nearly teared up at the dinner table about five times.

It’s time to get going, and Dad offered to accompany me until I’m about halfway home. And when he left, I got an idea. I couldn’t simply walk past school without being sad, so... why not go back inside? I could still wander around on the dark streets, listen to sad music and cry afterwards, if I wanted to. But, as I said before, I wasn’t about to let the day end like that. And as long as there was even just half a percent chance that there would be a happy ending to my night, I owed myself that chance to try. I’ve gone mad. - I texted Pocketwatch Friend on my way back. And even though she was trying to talk me out of it, I told her to tell me one reason why I shouldn’t, aside from the pain. It has hurt before. I could take it. But I knew that no matter what she said, she couldn’t talk me out of it. I was already at the corner of the building. I was going inside.

I walked up to the bridge, and ran into Art Friend. Thank God, someone I knew, someone I could talk to about what was wrong! And, of course, she wasn’t the only one there. There V was, just so my heart could hurt even more, stood at the railing, not looking up from her goddamn phone. Now that I saw her, I suddenly wasn’t so brave anymore. I didn’t want to bother her, so I chickened out of going up to her, even though Art Friend tried to talk me into it. I refused and refused until V walked away. Fantastic. I’m literally so fucking stupid

We kept talking for about ten minutes after that, Art Friend and I, both of us venting about our love-related woes to the other, and chatting with a few other people along the way. I didn’t know whether I should stay or go, I felt absolutely hopeless and confused at that point. Nothing made sense. After asking my poor friend about five times whether I should stay or go, I decided to stay. At least until she came back. And she did come back.

V and A walked down the stairs together, both of them joining the people standing at the railing as the band, comprised entirely of students, was setting up downstairs. Now’s my time, I thought, and went closer to where V was standing. One of the teachers, who used to be my homeroom teacher at about the dawn of time, noticed me standing behind her, and offered to swap places with me so I could see better, which would’ve put me even closer to V, who was, for your information, still on her goddamn phone. I politely refused, but she wouldn’t have it, and so, I wound up directly at the railing, my Art teacher next to me, V just slightly behind us. I think you can guess how nervous I was.

I ended up talking to my Art teacher, discussing some stuff in a couple sentences. Bless, she’s the best person to talk to when you’re nervous, as she’s a right laugh. And then. V came closer, bumping into the Art teacher’s feet as she did. The latter barely even noticed, even though V said sorry, so V tapped her shoulder to say sorry again. And there we were. The music started, V wound up between us, so now, she was standing directly next to me. Jesus bloody Christ. So much for a healthy blood pressure.

Listen, guys. We all know V is clever. She knew why I was still wearing my coat. She knew why I was standing there and she knew why I was so nervous and why I didn’t say a word to her. That might be why she decided to speak first. The music was loud, so she leaned closer and just told me “Look at those two stupid seniors in the corner,” referring to two boys dancing in this classical, wobble-your-shoulders kinda club dancing style. She even imitated it, making me laugh, but she was grinning too. Down by the stage, the people started a train dance, which V just commented as “Unbelievable,” still grinning. Meanwhile, I thought it unbelievable that I’m the one she started talking to when I haven’t seen her speak to anyone else all night.

“How were the performances from the first row?” I asked her, subtly referring to the fact that I saw her earlier. She leaned closer again, hand in front of her mouth like she was saying something confidential, and told me “To be honest, I was a little scared of the girls dancing hip-hop.” “Who, the younger kids?” I asked her, laughing. “No, no, the guests.” Yeah, I probably missed those. Anyway. “And how was our clip?” I continued. “I thought there were too few of you in it, but it was really well edited.” “Yeah, [Boy who filmed it] is talented at this. I was only in it, so I didn’t have to go to P.E.” And as the band started playing a new song, I told V “[They’re] really good.” “Yeah, I want to film them.”

And she did. Understandable, I think she teaches half of them, and they were really good. After that, there was silence. She pulled out her phone, and, as far as I’m concerned, she was texting, meanwhile I got a few words with A who was standing nearby, and took photos myself. I decided, that when the song ends, I’ll leave. I got way more than I hoped for, anyway.

“I think I’m gonna go now.” I turned to V, once we gave them the applause they deserved. “Alright.” “And you, Miss? Are you staying until the end?” “Well, I have to.” “And why is that?” Maybe this one I shouldn’t have said, as it was painfully fucking obvious. “I’m supervising.” “Oh. Well, then, have a good weekend.” “You too.” “And keep holding on.” “Thanks.” My Art Teacher waved to me, smiling, as I walked away, and I waved back. Yeah. There’s a bit of a difference between how I like her and how I love V.

I went downstairs to say goodbye to Art Friend, and, just before I left, I looked back up at V, who was smiling. I’m not certain anymore, and I don’t want to write misinformation, but in that very moment, I could’ve sworn she was looking at me.

I no longer needed to take the long way home, I went my usual way. Even so, I burst into tears, but those were of relief. I trusted my gut, went through with it, and my night ended really well. Then I spent the rest of that night and the next morning calling my friends and telling them in even more excruciating detail what happened between V and I. To be honest, it still doesn’t feel real.

See, I still don’t know if there even is a V and I to begin with. But something has definitely changed in the past weeks, I feel it. But I’ll leave this up to you to judge. All I know is that I’m over the moon. Good luck trying to get me off.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#not @ how this took me a whole ass day to write #tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

2 notes · View notes

tobethefairybest · 5 years

Text

First Miraxus fic is up! Thanks @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate for proofreading! :D

The fanfic can be read here below or by clicking the ff.net link above :)

--------------------------

It was late at night at the Fairy Tail guildhall. Mirajane walked down the stairs from the highest floor, it had been a long day. Ever since the guild had been re-established, she and Levy had been helping Makarov nonstop with all the paperwork needed to get the guild back into business with the entire city again. Levy already left an hour ago, but Mirajane had stayed a little longer. Not because she had too, but simply because she felt like every time spent with the almost century old master was precious to her. She never wanted to leave before knowing he was feeling well.

It has been strange for everyone to go back to the lives they had always led here. Some had gotten used to their new life already in a new place, but most of the guild members had never felt home again since the disbanding until now. So had she. Fairy Tail had been her and her siblings' home and suddenly being left without it had thrown them into the dark. Of course they still had their house in Magnolia, but the city had had a gaping hole in its heart without the guild.

She awoke from her thoughts by a low rumbling sound coming from the main hall. It was followed by an almost inhuman sound of rasping and gurgling. Mirajane froze in place. It was as if a large animal was drowning and gasping for air. It eerily resonated in the now empty and dark guildhall. The last thing the now peaceful guild needed, was trouble from outsiders. Maybe an animal had gotten stuck in the building?

Carefully she crept down the stairs and up to the balcony. She kneeled down and looked through the bars. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Normally there wasn't much for her to be afraid of, but the thought of someone, or something, having intruded the guildhall without anyone noticing left her surrounded by fear.

At first, it seemed like not a living soul was present at ground level. Had she imagined it? No. There was no way a sound that loud was just in her head. She carefully stood up straight. It was then when she saw it. On a barstool, somebody sat with their back towards her. A back that was all too familiar to her.

''Laxus?''

He was visibly startled, as if he didn't expect anybody to be around at this time, but he didn't turn around. Something was off, he should have definitely been able to hear her walking around with his extraordinary hearing skills.

She walked down the last stairs.

''You scared me! Why on earth did you make that sound?''

He didn't reply.

She slowed down her pace when she came closer. ''What's wrong?''

''None of your business.'' he replied in a hoarse voice, while quickly covering a napkin laying on the bar with his hand. The light of the oil lamps of the bar was faint, but enough for Mirajane to notice the blood on his chin, which he wiped away with the back of his hand.

''Please look at me.''

After a moment of hesitation, he slowly turned his face towards her.

He looked absolutely awful. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them had turned a greyish colour. It was as if his body had become an empty shell, even his skin colour didn't look natural anymore.

''The bane particles never left your body, did they?'' she managed to bring out quietly.

He shook his head and let out a raspy cough again.

''You lied and just convinced Porlyusica that you were doing better, while your organs were and are still degrading.''

He picked up the bloody napkin to wipe his mouth with.

She almost didn't want to ask. ''Just how bad is it?''

He sighed. ''I'm gonna be real with you, I have no idea how much longer this body of mine will last.''

Mirajane couldn't believe what she was hearing. Deep down she had always feared that him poisoning himself last year would lead to problems later, but never had she thought it was this bad.

''Most days, I don't feel that much pain and it makes me think that it's gonna get better, but every time I have an attack like this...'' his voice started to break down, ''I feel like it's gonna be over.''

''Why have you been hiding this from us?!'' she said in a trembling voice, ''we're your family, the ones you're suppose to reach out your hand to in times of need,'' she took his hand with hers, ''so we can help you.''

He jerked his hand back, ''I've caused the guild enough trouble already, this is my way of repaying for that.''

''By dying and causing us all grief?!'' she let out, crying.

He fell silent and looked to his side, only to see her with a tear-streamed face. Her skin all red and her eyes soaked. Her always neatly brushed hair was stuck to her cheeks in strands.

''Nobody wants you to suffer, even after all you've done to us.''

He was left totally stunned. Never had he expected anyone of the guild to be this worried about his wellbeing. Especially not Mira, after all the times she called for help and he just ignored it and laughed it off.

She turned around and walked back to the stairs.

''Where are you going?'' he asked.

She looked over her shoulder. ''To your grandfather, he deserves to know.''

He stood up, electricity surging through the wooden floor beneath him. ''No you won't.''

She stood motionless on the first step. Sparks escaped the floor at her feet.

''Please understand that this is my choice.'' he said slowly but with resolve, ''I don't want my old man to die of worry.''

She felt conflicted. Of course she wanted to keep a secret, but not one as heavy as this one.

''Please, Mira.'' he softly said.

He knew that calling her by that nickname would make her feel nostalgic.

She turned around. He had moved closer and his eyes had gained that golden glow again.

''For how many years have we known each other now? Twenty?'' he asked.

''Twenty-one.'' she corrected him.

''And how many times have I been in mortal danger during that time?''

''Too often.'' she let out softly.

''But I survived.'' he said, ''I don't know how, but I will find a way around this.''

As much as this sounded like just another lie to keep her from worrying, somewhere deep inside she believed him. He was a mage who carried a dragon lacrima in his body, if there was anyone who would overpower a nearing death again, it would be him.

She reached out her hand and rubbed some blood off the corner of his mouth with her thumb, ''If only you had absorbed a demon instead of poison, I could have gotten rid of it.'' she smiled, still swallowing the tears.

He was left without words. Never in all that time together, they had gotten this close. At least not when they were all alone. He had a hard time picking up signals. Was she really flirting with him right now?

''You should open up more often,'' she said, ''it suits you.''

''Oh shut up.'' he grumbled.

''Back to normal, I see.'' she said as she made her way towards the guild's doors. ''I should be going then, it's getting late.''

''Wait.'' Laxus said out loud before instantly regretting it. What was he supposed to say next? He cursed himself.

She looked over her shoulder. ''Hm?'' Mirajane turned around, only to find herself looking up to him. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and hesitantly pulled her closer.

She was surprised by his sudden move, but had no intention to resist either. His clothes smelled like gunpowder, probably from all the times the electricity had burned little holes through it. As intimidating as he was, resting her head against his chest made her feel safe. ''Thank you.'' she heard him say, followed by a pressure on top of her head.

Her eyes widened when she realised what caused it, ''Did you just-?"

He let go of her and walked up the stairs.

''As far as I know, we didn't have this conversation.'' he said with a wink.

She took the hint, ''I'll keep it a secret, don't worry.''

Mirajane walked out the guild, ''Just don't die.'' she whispered before closing the massive doors behind her.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fic #ft fanfic #ft fanfiction #laxus x mirajane #fairy tail laxus #ft laxus #laxus dreyar #ft mirajane #Mirajane Strauss #miraxus

15 notes · View notes

spell-cleaver · 5 years

Note

Alright, another prompt based on the trope list. Historical AU, Padme and Palpatine?

This is another War of the Roses AU, a prequel to the last one, and I cannot tell you how excited I got about all the history while writing it. It’s ended up being the longest of these prompts I’ve ever written, so I hope you enjoy it :)

If you haven’t read the first War of the Roses AU, it’s here.

Prompts from this post.

Padmépaced the room. Once, twice, three times. Then five times more.

Ten stepsfrom the family tree tapestry to the door; twenty five steps to the bathroom;ten steps to the window. And back—ten steps to the family tree tapestry—

The royalquarters in the Tower of London were nothing to scoff at, and indeed she wasn’t scoffing at them—she was justscoffing at the fact she was there.

Why wasshe there? Why was this happening?

There wasa quiet cry from the corner. Padmé sighed, and hurried to sweep Luke up intoher arms, rocking him gently. Leia stared up at them from the crib, liquidbrown eyes unblinking.

Lukecalmed down after a moment, but Padmé didn’t put him back. She found thatholding him made her feel marginally less tense—double so when she picked upLeia as well. It was awkward, holding them both at once, but they’d spent ninemonths being squashed together. They weren’t bothered by it now.

And it did help, cradling them against herchest. No matter what chaos had descended on court, they were both fine. Shecould protect them. All was not lost.

And thatwas what gave her the courage to raise her voice again and ask of the manoutside, “Why are you holding me in here?”

“Foryour own protection, Your Highness,” came the monotonous response she’dreceived before.

“Thenwhy am I locked in?”

“Foryour own protection, Your Highness.”

“Bullshit.”

There wasa moment of silence, surprise at a princess cursing so, then, “YourHighness—”

“Iwish to speak to Duke Palpatine,” Padmé demanded. “He will listen tomy demands—”

“Asyou wish. We shall send for him immediately.”

“—andAnakin Skywalker.”

Once again,there was that stunned silence from behind the door. The soldier’s tone wascareful when he asked, “The Lord of Vader, my lady?”

“Yes.I wish to speak with him as well.”

A fewminutes passed before she received the answer, “Duke Palpatine iscurrently in a meeting with the Royal Council, but Lord Vader is in the city.He is being sent for as we speak.”

“Good.”Padmé tried to disguise the waver in his voice. “Thank you. I look forwardto his arrival.”

Sheresumed her pacing.

She knewwhat her demand to see Anakin implied. The sire of the twins had been a hotlydebated topic since it was first announced that she was pregnant. She’dreceived constant abuse from all angles, from people convinced Luke and Leiawere illegitimate. They weren’t, but it wasn’t like anyone would believe that.

It wasn’tlike anyone would believe the Princess of England would marry a poor lord withfew lands to his name for any reason, let alone that it might have been forlove. Let alone that she’d done it in defiance of her parents’ wishes.

But nowthe rumours would start flying again.

Perhaps itwould make it easier for people to accept, when the news finally broke—

She spunon her heel when she heard sharp footsteps mounting the stairs, approaching thedoor. She recognised that gait, that was—

“Anakin,”she breathed when he entered, and surged forward.

She couldn’thug him—she was still holding the twins—but hehugged her, wrapping his arms roundall three of them. A part of her sagged in relief when he bent his head overLuke’s, pulled a face which made the boy laugh, then kissed him on theforehead. He did the same to Leia.

“Padmé,”he said, “I’m so glad you’re alright. I heard about the King, and—”

“Whatdid you hear?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

He froze.“You… don’t know?”

“Noone’s told me anything.”

Heflinched. Swallowed harshly, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Then hesaid, “Your parents and sister are dead.”

Sherecoiled from his touch, hugging the twins closer to her chest. “What—”

“Theywere assassinated—Palpatine suspects the Yorkists are responsible—”

“The Yorkistsare subdued!” she snapped, her parents’ common rhetoric springing to mind.“There are barely any left, and those that are left have pledged fealty.”

“Noteveryone abides by their oaths.”

Padmésighed—she didn’t want to argue with him at the moment. So she just said,unable to completely contain the fear in her voice, “What happensnow?”

Anakinlooked puzzled. “What do you mean, what happens now? You’re the next inline to the throne.”

“Solawas the Crown Princess—”

“Solais dead. Padmé,” Anakin reachedfor her hand, and squeezed it, “you’re the only one left.”

Padmé tooka step back, then another. She collapsed into the nearest armchair, accidentallyjostling the twins in her panic. She shook her head in some sort of vaindenial. “What—” she swallowed. “What happens now?”

Anakinlooked awkward. He’d never been well-versed in the politics of court—not nearlyas well as she was, anyway, but she was falling apart. He was a small, unknownlord for a reason. “I’m sure Duke Palpatine is busy arranging your coronationas we speak—”

“I’mafraid not, my boy.”

Both ofthem turned at once—Padmé was too late to hide her tears—to see Palpatinestanding in the doorway. He wore a look of utmost sorrow, but Padmé got thesame impression she always did when looking at Palpatine: there was somethingswimming underneath it. What he showed was not what he felt.

When she’dsaid as much to her parents, they’d used to say that was the mark of a goodpolitician. Palpatine was a good politician, they’d said, and loyal to them;there was nothing to fear from him.

Thatdidn’t mean she’d ever quite brought herself to trust him.

Especiallynot now.

“Whatdo you mean ‘not’?”

“Imean,” Palpatine said delicately, taking a step forward so the doorslammed shut behind him, “a sermon was preached only yesterday about themarriage between your parents.”

Themarriage between— “What does thathave to do with anything!”

“Pleasecalm down, my dear, it’s nothing to worry about,” Palpatine soothed.“But this preacher has dug up documentation proving that your father wascontracted to marry someone else when he married your mother. The Council havebeen checking the facts, and it seems to be correct.” He gave a wry, sadsmile. “You, and all your heirs, are technically illegitimate.”

Illegitimate.

She was sofucking tired of that word following her around. First it branded her babies;now it branded her, too?

Now itkept her from ascending her father’s throne?

“Who—”Her voice cracked on the word. She forced herself to take a deep breath.“Who, then, will be the next monarch?”

Palpatinenodded at the tapestry of the family tree behind her. “Well, the Councilchecked the lineage, and it seems to be… me.”

Padméblinked in shock. “You’re aPlantagenet?”

“Itappears so, my lady. There are other Plantagenet heirs, naturally, but giventhat your father’s will has it stated that, should any of his heirs be underagewhen they ascended the throne, he wanted me to be appointed Protector of theRealm… the Council considered it wisest for me to take charge.”

“I—”Padmé worked her mouth, then grimaced. “I… can see the logic in that.But—” What will happen to me? To mychildren?

Palpatineheard her unspoken question. “Well, you may do any number of things,”he assured her. “You can join your husband on his estate,” he noddedat Anakin, “and be a family, for one. A family not crushed to death by theweight of the crown, as all your ancestors have been. The opportunities areendless for you. But your life’s certainly not over.”

He waslying.

It madeher cold to even think about it, but he was lying.She could tell.

Your life’s certainly not over.

Unbidden,her eyes drifted down to the brooch pinned to his lapel. It was shaped like awhite rose.

“Yousee, Padmé?” Anakin slipped an arm round her shoulders. “There’snothing to worry about—nothing at all.”

She noddedmutely, and tried to smile. “I see,” she said. “I— I think I’mtired from all of this, and I—” Her throat closed up. “I need to…grieve.” Both men nodded gravely. “I think you should—”

“Ofcourse, my lady.” Palpatine bowed, low and respectful. It was almostmocking, knowing what she knew. “Young Skywalker and I shall take our leaveof you. Thank you for handling this terrible news so admirably.”

Sheinclined her head in return. “Thank you for looking after everything sowell,” she countered, “YourMajesty.”

There: aflash of triumph across his face.

It wasgone in an instant, but enough to solidify her resolve.

Anakinkissed her hand, then made to follow Palpatine out. Her heart ached to watchhim go, knowing it would be the last time she ever saw him. A sudden urgeseized her.

“Ilove you,” she called.

Hestiffened in shock—as did the guard by the door, if his gasp was any indication—butsmiled back. “I love you too,” he said gently, and then he was gone.

The doorslammed shut.

Padmé tooka deep breath, then stood.

She walkedover to the crib first, where she placed Luke and Leia. Then she stood in frontof the tapestry.

The name Plantagenet emblazoned the top, denotinga straight line done. Then the line split, and the roses which adorned thebranches changed colour. She followed the red, down the Lancastrian line, towhere it ended with Padmé and Sola in silver, curling letters. Thenher eyes skipped over to the other branch—the white roses. York.

Followingit down, Palpatine’s name stood out like a brand.

She shookher head. So, her parents had beenkilled by a Yorkist.

Whatstupid labels. What stupid factions. What a stupidwar.

What astupid family, tearing itself apart over a crown.

She openedher mouth, and so began the end.

She askedthe guard to fetch her handmaidens. When Sabé and the others came, she handedthe twins over to them. There was much crying, but Padmé steeled herself, andshe did it. Luke and Leia were smuggled out of the Tower.

They wouldnever see their mother again.

And thatwas why they survived.

Theyweren’t there when Palpatine sent another assassin in to kill the last of theLancastrians, or when Padmé’s lifeblood stained the halls. They were presumedkidnapped, then dead; Anakin was distraught and Palpatine won his loyaltythrough comfort.

But they survived.

And whenthey returned, years later, to reclaim the throne stolen from their mother,they would bring a reckoning.

HISTORICAL ENDNOTE: The War of the Roses (or Wars, depending on the historian asked) was when two sides of the current dynasty ruling England, the Plantagenets, fought over who should be on the throne. The Yorkists (symbol: white rose) and the Lancastrians (symbol: red rose) were the two sides, from York and Lancaster respectively.

The specific event which inspired this oneshot was when in 1483, Yorkist Edward IV died (of an illness—not assassination) and a sermon was preached that barred Edward V from being coronated due to doubts over his legitimacy. Edward IV’s brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester, became king instead. (To be clear, while the extent of Richard’s role in this is debatable, this specific event was not conflict between the Lancastrians and Yorkists. The whole event is very different in this. I took artistic license.)

Richard III was later deposed by Henry Tudor, which is what the original oneshot was about :)

#THANK YOU PRAETOR FOR GIVING ME ANOTHER CHANCE TO RANT ABOUT HISTORY #i had so much fun on this oneshot you have no idea #POLITICS AND PLOTTING AND INTRIGUE OH MY #asks #prompts #historical au #war of the roses au #flash fiction #flash fiction: star wars #padmé amidala #sheev palpatine #luke skywalker #leia organa #anakin skywalker #anidala #romance and stuff #random words on a page #my writing

26 notes · View notes

rosensilence · 6 years

Text

Ficlet - Walk of Shame

Kylo Ren x Armitage Hux (SFW) Words - 1,169 This comes from a meet-ugly list of prompts from a couple of weeks ago. One of the prompts was the characters meeting while doing their own and unrelated walks of shame.

** Every Sunday morning at 6am, Hux arrived home.

It was the perfect time to come home. The streets were bathed in a peace so silent that it was easy for Hux to believe that he was the only human that still existed; a thought that held more appeal to Hux than it probably should.

His reason for coming home at such an antisocial hour was not an exciting one. Hux was an architect by trade and he had been tasked with the design of a new state of the art office building for one of the high street banks. It was a high profile, high stress and high stakes project and Hux had been working through the night on it for weeks.

He did his best work at night. There was something about being in the office on his own with only the graveyard shift on Classic FM for company that got his creative juices flowing. The office was too busy during the day. He’d tried—several times—to work a regular 9-to-5 schedule, but all that gave him was a stress induced headache and a blank page that stubbornly remained blank.

For most people of Hux’s age, working through the night on a Saturday would not have been acceptable. They had partners, families, social lives and all of those things that Hux had never managed to maintain. All Hux had was his cat, and a couple of peace lillies he could barely keep alive.

He was reminded of the emptiness of his life compared to others around him three months into his Sunday morning routine.

Just as Hux was fumbling for the correct key to open his flat, he heard the heavy stomp of combat boots behind him. It was his neighbour—Ben Solo—coming home after doing whatever Ben Solo had done that Saturday night. It soon became routine. Hux and Ben would both arrive home around 6am each Sunday morning.

Hux had never spoken to Ben beyond the occasional muttered greeting, but he was sure that Ben’s Saturday night activities were more traditional than his own. Ben was tall and broad, with pretty hair, pretty eyes and an easy smile that was charming in its imperfectness. Hux had no doubt that Ben spent his Saturday nights in the arms of a lover, he just wasn’t sure if it was the same one each week or not.

As the weeks wore on and Hux arrived home each Sunday morning to find Ben coming home too, Hux started to feel resentful. Ben always looked completely shagged out; his hair was messy, his steps were heavy and Hux could almost smell the scent of sex clinging to his sweaty skin. It was another reminder of how everyone else was living their lives while Hux was struggling to make toilet blocks fit a company’s aesthetic.

It took nine weeks of it for Hux to finally snap.

Ben hadn’t done anything to deserve it, not really. All he’d done was drop his keys and accidentally bump into Hux in their cramped hallway, but it was enough to make Hux’s last thread of patience finally break.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Sorry?” Ben asked, straightening back up to his full height after picking up his keys.

“Coming home every Sunday morning at the same time as me. Rubbing my nose in it.”

“Rubbing your nose in what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You,” Hux said. Deep down he knew he was being unreasonable, but he had a lot of anger inside and Ben was a convenient target. “And your just shagged hair, doing the walk of shame every Sunday morning.”

“What is your problem, Hux? You’re here doing your own walk of shame every Sunday morning, too. Isn’t sex supposed to relax you? Why do you still look like you have a rod up your ass? Maybe you need a new girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Or boyfriend,” Ben added, shrugging his shoulders.

“For your information,” Hux said, taking a step forward and jabbing his finger into Ben’s personal space, “I’ve been working. Some of us have more important things to do than fuck our Saturday nights away.”

That wasn’t true, of course. Hux didn’t have to spend his Saturday nights designing open plan offices with tucked away meeting rooms, he just chose to because it was more productive than crying into a bottle of red.

“What’s your job?”

“Why do you ask? It’s none of your concern.”

“I guess not,” Ben said, shrugging his shoulders again. “I work too, by the way.”

“What?”

“On Saturday nights. That’s where I am every week.”

Oh. Hux desperately wanted the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole, but he wasn’t that lucky. Ben worked? He’d known it was wrong to take his boiling anger and resentment out on Ben just because he’d thought the other man had an active sex life, but now he’d also managed to make a huge fool out of himself.

“Sorry,” murmured Hux. “I’ve had a rough week.”

“I understand. It sucks to be working your life away when everyone else seems to be enjoying theirs.”

“It’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Look at us,” Ben said with a smile, “two losers doing a walk of shame from work. I’m a doorman, by the way. At the Nightingale.”

Oh yes, the gay club in town that half of Hux’s Grindr matches always wanted to hook up at. Hux had never been there, partly due to him being too nervous to ever meet up with anyone from Grindr, and partly due to his complete lack of a social life.

‘I’m an architect,” Hux explained. “I’m working on a big project and Saturday night is a surprisingly inspirational time for me.”

“I get that. Say, Hux,” Ben began, nervously rocking on his heels, “do you fancy getting breakfast at that cafe across the street? They do a killer full English.”

“I don’t think my stomach could cope with so much grease this early— Or late. Or whatever this time is,” Hux replied.

He’d been speaking honestly, but wasn’t prepared for the way Ben’s face fell from hopeful to disappointed. Hux realised—rather belatedly—that just maybe, Ben had been asking him out. Sleep was calling to Hux, but so was something else.

A chance.

“I could manage a cup of tea and some toast, though,” Hux added.

Ben’s smile was brighter than the sun that was beginning to rise. “Awesome!”

They walked down the stairs and over to the cafe together, swapping anecdotes about late night working. Ben’s were definitely more colourful than Hux’s, but he didn’t seem bored by Hux’s tales of demanding clients and building legislation. As Hux sat there, slowly sipping his tea as Ben wolfed down a plateful of sausages and bacon, he had one question burning in his mind.

Would it still be considered a walk of shame if all he did was cross the hallway from Ben’s flat to his own?

#kylux #modern AU #kylux fanfiction #my fanfic

118 notes · View notes

xbluexflowerx · 6 years

Note

Can you do Mako's baby shower? With Sousuke running around like a headless chicken because it's close to the due date and Mako has been having frequent Braxton Hicks so in the end, everyone has to calm Sou down before they start.

mpreg verse

…

This is such a bad idea.

The thought was buzzing around andaround in Sousuke’s head as he was trying to set up the living room. Why didanyone think it was a good idea to have the baby shower a week before the duedate?

God, what if the baby came early? He’dstruggle to usher all the people out and get Makoto to the hospital. No doubtNagisa would try and follow them, after giving birth to twins he was apparentlyan expert on birthing.

“Do you need a hand?” Makoto asked,currently bathing his swollen ankles in cold water.

“No, it’s fine.” He shook his head. Intruth he’d like nothing more than Makoto’s help, he was definitely a betterparty organiser than Sousuke, but he’d been out of commission for the lastmonth.

Makoto could barely do anything withouta strange twinge somewhere, the amount of times Sousuke was ready to pounce onthe hospital bag was too frequent these days. His heart could barely take itanymore, he’d be signed off work with stress at this rate.

“It’s not straight.” Makoto said,absentmindedly massaging his stomach as he watched Sousuke.

“What?” He asked, glancing over hisshoulder.

“The ‘it’s a boy’ sign. It’s notstraight.” He shrugged.

Sousuke bit back a groan, he knewMakoto wasn’t being picky on purpose, it was more his own frustration. He’dspent weeks on Pinterest, scouring for ideas to make it perfect and now all hecould do was watch as Sousuke unintentionally butchered his dream.

“Maybe we should call it off?” Makotosuggested, wincing as Sousuke haphazardly put out the cupcakes on the cakestand rather than having each layer with the same colour frosting.

“It’s a bit too late now.” Sousukesighed, their friends were due in an hour, they could hardly back out. Nagisahad probably had his outfit all picked out for days.

“But I don’t want to spend my babyshower sat on the sofa.” He whined, this day was a celebration and instead hespending it being an invalid.

“You won’t.” He shook his head,climbing onto the chair to sort out the sign. “If you rest now then you will beready for this afternoon.”

“But…” He attempted only to be cutoff.

“No buts.” Sousuke jumped down. “Letme handle this.”

Makoto tried his best to relax,watching Sousuke set up the rest of the party but his fingers were itching toget involved. There were so many things he would have done differently butsometimes you just have to let others take control.

But as he watched Sousuke carelesslyplace down a plate of food he realised this was not one of those times.

“Right, that’s it.” Makoto sighed,pulling himself out the sofa and waddling over to Sousuke, not even bothered bythe trail of wet foot prints he was leaving behind.

“Makoto.” Sousuke warned. “You need torest.”

“Fine, but I have a few pointers.” Hesaid as he was practically forced back to his foot spa.

“Fire away.” He rolled his eyes.

“The sign is still not straight, it’shanging too low on the right side. The baby clothes on the washing line aretouching, I understand they are not really wet but who lets their clothes touchwhile they are drying? It needs to look authentic. Why have you put the cakesat the front and the savoury stuff at the back? People will be forced to eattheir meal in reverse. And for gods sake sort those cupcakes, I got six of eachcolour for a reason not so they could be all mixed up on the stand.” Makotolisted.

“Oh.” He frowned, only having got halfthe information that was sprouted at him.

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, rubbinghis cheek. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sousuke shook hishead, kissing Makoto on the forehead. “You’ve been planning this practicallysince the day you saw the positive test. So, I will do anything you want, it’syour day.”

“Our day.” Makoto corrected. “Butplease sort the sign.”

“I will sort the sign.” He laughed,climbing back on the chair and have Makoto guide him.

…

Sousuke had been given a list ofinstructions before his friends arrived, make sure to mingle but don’t spendtoo long on one person, make sure they all have full glasses but don’t getpeople drunk, make sure there is always food on the table but don’t make peoplefeel guilty for eating the last sausage roll and make sure people enjoy thegames but don’t force them to play.

He finally understood why partyplanners earnt so much, this was like a military operation.

He was currently failing his duties,he was stood chatting to Rin in one corner to get a breather despite the emptyglass in Ai’s hand and the empty plate of cocktail sausages Nagisa haddevoured.

“What have you been giving Haru?” Rincringed as his husband stumbled across the room.

“It’s only bucks fizz.” Sousukeshrugged. “I could do with something stronger though.”

“That bad?” Rin chuckled.

“I’m shattered and you’ve only beenhere an hour.” He laughed.

“The joys of hosting.” He joked.

“Rei!” Makoto called out in shock ashe watched Rei fill some of the plates. “You’re our guest, Sousuke will see toit.”

“You’ve been summoned.” Rin grinned,nudging him forward.

“Sure, what do we need?” Sousukeasked.

“Just some crisps and sausages.” Reitold him. “But I don’t mind getting it.”

“It’s fine.” He shook his head,heading back into the kitchen to replenish supplies.

Sousuke felt like he was running backand forth from the kitchen for a good twenty minutes, every time he filled aplate somebody else finished another one. How were they still hungry? They allseemed to have more than their share already.

“Sousuke!” Momo shouted, bouncing onthe sofa beside Makoto. “I hear there are games.”

“Later.” He replied adding more salsato a pot in the middle of the table. He flinched slightly at the look Makotoshot him, that the idea of him deny a party guest disgusted him. “Sorry, we cando that now.”

He quickly ran up the stairs, takingthem two at a time to grab the box of games Makoto had order off the internet.Least they were all prepped and he didn’t have to do anything.

“Right, first game.” Sousuke announcedwalking back in the room. “As you are all parents you have to write down yourtop parenting tip and Makoto has to guess who has written it.”

“Surely he will recognise ourhandwriting.” Haru slurred.

“Someone can read it to him then.” Herolled his eyes.

Once all the cards were filled andhanded to Rin, Makoto looked up at Sousuke with soft eyes.

“Could you set up for bobbing fornipples? You don’t need to play this one.” Makoto smiled.

“Sure.”

“What?! Bobbing for nipples!” Momocried out. “That sounds more fun that this game!”

“Momo.” Ai warned. “Calm down.”

Sousuke slipped out the room beforeMomo could say anymore, he was going to be bitterly disappointed when herealised he was bobbing for bottle teats rather than anything saucy.

“Sou-chan!” Nagisa sung after him whenhe had only filled one bucket with water. “We need more sausage rolls!”

Sousuke rolled his eyes and grabbedthe packet, he was sure Makoto would be scandalised by his lack of care but hewas too stressed to worry about it now.

“If you have a boy watch out for thepenis, those things go off as soon as the cold air hits them. Nothing worsethan pee in your mouth.” Rin read, Sousuke snorting as he chucked the packetonto Nagisa’s lap.

“Well as Ai and Momo are the only twowith a boy it has to be one of them, and Ai already gave me advice to label mytops and tails tub so it must be Momo.” Makoto decided.

“It was me!” Momo cheered.

Sousuke went back to fill anotherbucket, they had bought three in order to play the game but it was taking solong that he decided two was enough. Surely that many people wouldn’t want toplay. He lugged the two buckets into the living room just as the game wasrounding up.

“When the baby sleeps, you sleep.Housework can wait.” Rin read.

“That’s gotta be Nagisa. You neverlike to clean.” Makoto teased with a smile.

“Nope.” The blonde shook his headsmugly.

“It was me.” Haru announced, sloshinghis bucks fizz around as he gestured to himself. “My house is a tip and I don’tcare.”

“And finally.” Rin said, bringing theattention away from his drunk husband. “Make sure you still have time for eachother, babies can be soothed after crying but losing your orgasm is alwaysdevasting.”

“Well, that’s obviously Nagisa.”Makoto rolled his eyes. “Of course your advice would be about sex.”

“Sex is all I think about.” Nagisawinked. “But seriously, the amount of times we have left the twins cryingbecause I was close is unbelievable.”

“Nagisa!” Rei cried out, hiding behindhis hands.

“Please, nobody believes you’re stilla blushing virgin.” He teased, kissing his husband’s red cheeks.

“Is it time to bob for nipples?” Momoasked impatiently, earning an eyeroll from Ai. “And do we have to take ourshirts off?”

“What kind of game do you think thisis?” Ai hissed.

“I suppose you might get a littlewet.” Makoto mused.

“Sounds like my kind of game.” Harusaid, perking up in his seat.

Sousuke sighed but tipped bottle teatsinto both the buckets on the floor, Momo watching on in slight confusion.

“It’s basically bobbing for apples butwith bottle teats.” Sousuke explained, moving the buckets into the middle of theroom.

“That is only mildly disappointing.”Momo smiled wildly, kneeling behind the bucket. “Whose taking me on?”

“I’ll do it.” Rin grinned, jumping upbefore he could get left out of another game.

Sousuke allowed himself to flop down ontothe sofa, the first time he had sat down since the party started. He made themistake of sitting next to Nagisa, hardly the quiet rest he wanted.

“On your marks! Get set! Go!” Nagisashouted, climbing onto Sousuke’s lap for the best view of the action.

Water flew everywhere when the twobegan to race, sometimes Sousuke forgot how fiercely competitive the pair were.When Makoto began to count down their minute Momo began to cheat, throwing someof Rin’s already collected teats back in the bucket. Rin responded by dunkingMomo’s head into the water and holding him there.

“Don’t kill him.” Ai said, soundingless concerned than he should.

“Times up!” Makoto shouted, Rinfinally releasing his hold on Momo.

“You cheated!” Momo panted, pointingan accusatory finger at Rin.

“So did you.” He shrugged as Reicounted the amount each man had collected.

“And Rin is the winner.” Rei declared.

“What?! How is that possible?” Momo screamed.

“He got eight, you only got six.” Reishrugged.

“Even you can do basic maths.” Rin smirked.

“Ai! I lost.” He pouted, lookingtowards his husband as if would somehow change the outcome.

“I saw.” He shrugged, holding his handout as his very wet husband came towards. “Don’t you dare.”

“Comfort me.” He whined, throwinghimself into Ai’s lap and leaving a wet patch on his purple shirt.

“Sometimes I really hate you.” Ai complained,ruffling his hair affectionately anyway.

“Do you have any toilet roll?” Nagisa askedsuddenly, eyes twinkling slightly.

“Yeah, why? Have we run out?” Makotoasked, shooting Sousuke a look – who knew his rest wouldn’t last long.

“No but I’ve got a great idea for agame.” He grinned, bounding off to the bathroom.

Sousuke knew he should probably checkon him, make sure he wasn’t doing anything untoward but he just didn’t have theenergy. It was almost four in the afternoon and he hadn’t stopped moving sincenine that morning, he was long overdue.

“So, the aim of the game is to make anappy.” Nagisa said, walking back down stairs. “We split into two teams andhave to put a nappy on one person from each team.”

“What does the winner get?” Rin asked,already grabbing a handful of toilet roll.

“Pride?” Makoto suggested, getting acollective groan from everyone.

“Wishy washy.” Haru mumbled.

Under Nagisa’s strict instruction theywere split into two teams. Rin, Nagisa and Rei against Momo, Ai and Makoto.Sousuke had declined to play and Haru was too drunk to even stand at the moment– it was the first time he’d had alcohol since given birth and it seemed ninemonths without drinking a drop was hitting him hard.

“Right, who we going to nappy?” Makotoasked, as Rei and Rin forced Nagisa into the middle.

“Ai!” Momo shouted. “He’s the smallest!”

“Why are you shouting?” Ai frowned.

“I don’t know!”

Sousuke began to game and watched thecarnage unfold, considering the majority of the people involved had babies theywere awful at putting on nappies. Makoto and Momo seemed to be focusing on thelegs and leaving huge gaps which would offer no protection. While Rin and Reikept pulling too hard and ripping their roll.

“My glass is empty.” Haru commentedwith a frown, barely heard over the shouting.

“Sousuke will get you one.” Makotosaid, finally moving onto Ai’s behind when he realised how exposed he was.

“He’s had enough.” Rin growled as thetoilet roll broke again.

“It’s fine.” Sousuke shrugged,anything to keep Haru out of action.

As Sousuke poured the drink he noticedthe game had suddenly gone quiet, at first he assumed it was over but when he heardNagisa’s terrified cry he knew he was wrong.

“Sousuke!” Nagisa screamed. “Somethingis wrong with Mako-chan!”

“I’m fine.” Makoto wheezed, grippinghis stomach. He was bent over and tears were building at the corner of hiseyes.

Sousuke dropped the bottle of buck’sfizz, spilling it over Haru as he ran to Makoto’s side.

“Honestly, I’m fine.” He attempted asmile but Sousuke could see through it.

“Breath.” He instructed. “Deepbreathes.”

“Sou.” He whined, using his spare handto grip his. “It hurts.”

“I know, I know.” He whispered, kissinghis forehead.

They both knew it was just Braxton hicks,it always was but they didn’t usually hurt like this. Makoto could usuallybrush them off, what if this was actually the real thing?

“I’m gonna call an ambulance.” Hepanicked, grabbing his phone out his pocket with a fumble. In his rush thephone flew out his hand and landed in the bucket of water. “Shit! Someone elsecall.”

“No.” Makoto shook his head. “It’sfine, they’re passing.”

“What if it’s a contraction? I knew weshould have had this party earlier.” He groaned, the last thing he needed wasthe whole crowd of them going to hospital. What a way to end a baby shower.

“They’re not.” Nagisa shook his head. “Believeme, you’d know if they were contractions.”

“It could still be early stages oflabour.” He protested.

“He’s alright.” Momo reassured. “Aiused to get them all the time in the last few weeks, just false labour.”

“How can you know a false labour froma real one?” He asked.

“No baby?” Rin said with a smile. “Look,he’s fine now.”

Sousuke stopped and looked over atMakoto, no longer fighting back tears but instead smiling with an embarrassedblush on his cheeks for causing such a drama.

“God, I need a drink.” Sousuke laughed.

“I’ll get it.” Rin said, pushingSousuke onto the sofa. “You sit.”

Sousuke sighed and ran his fingersthrough his hair, kissing Makoto’s forehead as he snuggled into his side.

“I know you didn’t take me seriouslythe first time but I’m going to offer again. Do you want me to be your birthingpartner?” Haru hiccupped. “Because clearly this guy just goes to pieces.”

“Haru.” Makoto scolded lightly. “He’sjust had a long day.”

“Uh huh.” He rose an eyebrow. “Thinkabout it.”

“Here you go big guy.” Rin said,walking back into the room with a drink stronger than bucks fizz.

“Thanks.” He smiled, taking a biggulp.

“Back to the game, I think our teamwon.” Nagisa said in an attempt to ease the tension that had fallen on the room.

“Are you joking?” Ai frowned. “Yournappy is hanging off.”

“But at least my bum is covered.” He turnedto prove his point. “All my accidents would be caught.”

“I almost had a covering, but therewas an incident.” He crossed his arms.

“On the plus side, the way it wrapsunder your cheeks really emphasises your curves.” Momo leered.

“So, it’s a victory for all.” Nagisawinked. “I have the best nappy and you have the best arse.”

“I… That’s not a win.” Ai spluttered indigently.

“It is for me.” Momo smirked.

Sousuke sighed as the argument didn’tseem to have an end in sight, even after Rei attempted to intervene. He closedhis eyes and tried to drown out the sounds of his friends, gently resting hishead on top of Makoto’s.

He could really do with a nap.

…

#soumako #makoto tachibana #sousuke yamazaki #free #mpreg verse #my writing #pegapi

33 notes · View notes