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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

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Addicted to You

Part III: Renegade

Summary/Author's Notes: Frankie (and the rest of the boys) goes and gets his girl back. I won't say anything else because I know y'all have been waiting.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ once again STRONG kidnapping elements, restraint, violence, death, murder, blood, language, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Gif by @hvitserkk

MASTERLIST

Part I Part II

Apparently this hell hole of a jungle insisted on being true to its word. Ever since they had left the bar it had been pouring down rain. Large torrents of water cascaded from the dark sky like the dump bucket at the local water park crashing down on a bunch of screaming kids. Unsurprisingly, Frankie had not slept at all. He tossed and turned on his cot in their hostel, spending the majority of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Benny snore, and thinking about you.

A few times he gave up his restless dance and got up to crack the window and light a cigarette. Pope was already up as well, unable to rest for the same reasons Frankie couldn't, and he held out a smoke and a lighter to him in silence.

"Thanks," Frankie said, quietly and Pope nodded. The two of them didn't speak. What was there to say? He offered his presence and a cigarette as an apology and Frankie took it. That's just how they had always operated, with an unspoken language of knowing that even if they were pissed at each other, there was no one else they would rather have watching their six.

The watch on Pope's wrist beeped quietly and he pressed the button, nodding to Frankie that it was time to head out. Frankie returned the gesture, taking another long drag of his smoke as Pope started to wake the others. He stared up at the dark sky and wished there was some way to tell you that he was coming for you. Whatever was happening, whatever state you were in, just hold out a little longer.

The thickness of the canopy of leaves on Lorea's property helped with the rain. The large drops pat on the trees with soft thuds as the men took up their positions from yesterday and started in towards the mansion. Only this time, each of them was geared up, locked and loaded. Frankie was careful of his steps not because of noise this time, but because of the mud. The sheer amount of water that the forest floor had received overnight had flooded every tiny creek bed, and eroded enough earth that even the smallest hill was just an avalanche of silt. His shirt was already stuck to his body, protected only by his Kevlar and the pack slung over his back.

Pope turned his hat around backwards as he took up his sniping position on the hill and looked through his scope. Frankie moved quietly through the trees towards the gate and Will flanked him, each lowering their guns to start snipping the chain link fence with their bolt cutters. Benny mirrored Pope's sniper stance from the East side and kept a careful eye poised on the two men below working on the gate.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing they're so devout," Benny said flatly through the com piece. "My dad used to say when it's raining, that means god didn't need us in church today."

Will chuckled and shook his head, finishing up clipping the fence and putting the bolt cutters back in his backpack. "Yeah, he also said you go to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company."

"Actually I think Mark twain said that, shithead." His brother retorted as he adjusted his scope and checked on Frankie's progress with the fence.

"Alright, keep the radio clear. Stay awake and look alive." Tom's voice came through everyone's ears, his obviously irritated tone making Frankie roll his eyes. "How many is that, getting in, Fish? Count it."

Frankie looked up as he finished cutting and watched the family pile in the car adorned in their Sunday best and umbrellas. "Seven getting in the van," he answered Tom.

"Anybody see Lorea?" Pope asked.

"Negative. Never saw him come out." Will walked carefully back to his spot perpendicular to the road that led out of the fortress. He ducked behind a tree as the cars drove passed him down the gravel road. "Wife and two kids are with a single driver--the family has left the building. We're clear."

They all waited in silence as the family vans disappeared and another unmarked, black car rounded the corner in their place. Pope's informant had been true to her word and was here to deliver the day's round of Lorea's money like she didn't know that he was about to be robbed blind. The gates opened slowly and she drove right through. She had a beat up four door hitched to the van so she could drive away and leave them the extra van, just like Pope had asked.

"Damn Pope, your girlfriend is a keeper. She got us that second van." Benny said, looking through his scope and adjusting the settings. "Punctual, smart, and brave as shit--just how you like 'em."

Pope ignored his quip about the informant and asked, "Has anyone seen any sign of (Y/N)?"

"Negative." Frankie said flatly, squeezing the com button clipped to the inside of his shirt. His eyes diligently searched each window of the upper floor, desperate for even the smallest sign that you were inside and alive. But he saw nothing.

"Informant is in," Benny cut through the silence. "Making the handoff now."

"Here we go," Tom raised up off of his knees and started to move. "Ben, you're first hit. With this rain the guards are gonna be inside. Watch your angles--silence is key."

"Roger."

Will and Frankie started walking toward the back of the mansion, matching each other's strides as they let Pope take point in front of them through the tall grasses. Each man had their semi-automatic rifle level with their eyes, balanced against their chest as they strained their ears and vision to see anything in this fucking rain. Frankie ducked his head under the family's clothes line as they entered the backyard and waited for Pope to give them a hand signal.

To an outsider, this would have looked like any normal family's patio. A children's sized soccer goal and a few balls were off to the side, a grill and a white iron table and chairs sat waiting for summer time barbeques. And only a prick like Lorea would subject his family to his dealings out here in the middle of nowhere. Frankie hoped with everything he had that the man in question was inside, because he couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

"Steady." Pope said over the com and motioned that he was going in the side patio door, and that the other two should go in through the double doors.

"Alright," Will nodded, looking at Frankie and motioning him to take the lead. "We're going in."

The house was dark. Will checked the windows but it didn't offer much insight before they crossed the threshold. Most of the glass had been covered with newspaper, bleached from the sun and offering little to help with what he could only imagine was Lorea's paranoia. A lot of the furniture was covered in sheets and protective cloth like they had just moved in or were getting ready to move out--either way, it wasn't very homey.

Pope nodded as he crossed paths with the two of them from the side door, taking note of the guard watching soccer in the living room at such a volume that suggested he was absolutely hard of hearing. But that sure made sneaking passed him easier.

Will and Frankie headed to the kitchen. The fridge door was open and a faceless man was rifling through the contents. Frankie let Will take point, keeping his gun raised as the blond slung his over his shoulder and waited for the guard to shut the fridge. As soon as he did, he was on him with a swift punch to the face. Will twisted the man around and wrapped his bicep around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold, squeezing tighter as the man struggled, ultimately falling unconscious and sliding to the floor.

Frankie white knuckled his gun as he saw that it was the smaller guard from the day before--the one who had called you merchandise. He hesitated, but shook it off as Will tossed him a zip tie and they secured the man's wrists and ankles before stowing him on the other side of the counter.

"Front gate secured," Benny said over the com from outside the house.

"One guard secured in the kitchen," Frankie answered as they crossed back into the foyer.

"Ben come to the house," Tom ordered from his place on the rooftop balcony

"Copy that."

Will followed Frankie into the next room as they looked across the foyer at Pope. The guard who had previously been watching his ridiculously loud television was nowhere to be seen. Benny's shadow appeared in front of the frosted glass of the French double doors and Pope held up a fist that he hoped he would be able to see.

"I'm at the front door."

"Hold Benny, hold," Pope responded, keeping his fist raised.

"Threat in the TV room is gone," Frankie said, keeping his voice calm and factual, letting Benny know the reason he was continuing to stand in the rain.

All three men looked up as the missing guard came down the staircase. Frankie's eyes narrowed as he realized who the guard in question was. He remembered the clear image of his disgusting hands over your mouth, hurting you, restraining you, and ultimately striking you--bitch. muzzle. cunt. His heart hammered in his chest and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he did the only thing he could think of. With an echo through the high ceiling entryway, he squeezed the trigger and fired, hitting the bald guard in the kneecap and sending him to the ground with a thud and a yell.

"What's going on in there??" Benny said over the com and Pope lowered his fist.

"All clear Benny. Eyes out for Lorea--"

"Well, he sure as fuck heard us now!" Will growled, dropping to his knee and pulling the zip ties and electrical tape from his pack. He spared a glare at Frankie as he got to work but Frankie felt no remorse. If he didn't need to find you, he would have shot the bastard a second time.

Will wrapped the black tape around the guys mouth to muffle his painful screams as Frankie pulled the zip tie tightly around his ankles--perhaps a little tighter than was necessary. The three of them looked up as Benny came in the front door and Pope pointed to the open utility closet at the left of the stairs.

"Set the charges for the security room. I want those cameras offline now! It's just Lorea and I do not want him to know our positions." Pope took a couple of stairs up and raised his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looked around the corner.

"What was the fuck was that? Who shot first?" Tom hissed through the com and they looked at Frankie.

"We had to shoot the third guard in the leg." Ben answered as he started pulling wires out of the cameras and lining the inside with a small amount of explosive, wetting his fingers with his tongue. "Taking him to the kitchen as we speak." He looked pointedly at Will and Frankie. It made Frankie realize that, unlike Tom, none of them would blame him for the shot, but they had to stay focused and keep moving.

They picked up the still grunting and thrashing guard and carried him into the other room and Benny turned his head and said with a grin, "Fire in the hole."

The camera system fuse sparked and popped like a line of firecrackers and all at once every camera in the compound went dark.

The rest of them let Frankie and Pope take the lead as they walked up the stairs. Both men shoulder to shoulder as they aimed down the sight of their guns and looked in each open door that led to a room, hoping that you would be there. With each empty room Frankie's heart beat harder. He found it more difficult to breathe every time he swept the area and you weren't there. Sweat dripped off his brow, both from the humidity in the house and the fear of the possibility that you were no longer in the house at all.

The two of them came to the last closed doors in the hallway and they looked at each other.

"You take right, I'll take left?" Pope offered and Frankie nodded wordlessly.

"I got your six," Will said behind them both as Tom and Benny moved to take the double doors that led to Lorea's office.

Frankie tried to calm his hands as he took one off of his gun to open the door. The room was dark and cluttered, a nice set of bay windows being the only light as rain pounded against the glass. Frankie swept the room slowly, using the barrel of his rifle as a guide for his eyes as they adjusted to the low light. He lowered his gun slowly as he laid eyes on you, for even in shadows he knew it had to be you.

"(Y/n).." he breathed out, dropping his rifle and backpack to the floor with a thud. Nothing in the house mattered anymore, not Lorea, not the Narcos money--even if Will wasn't watching his back, he would have dropped everything he was carrying to get to you faster.

You had heard footsteps and a gunshot long before Frankie hit the door. Not that any of the warning sounds mattered because you were basically a sitting duck, and you had been for almost twenty-four hours. Time was irrelevant though as the blindfold around your eyes made everything dark at all hours of the day. As the footsteps got closer you clenched your fists and pulled against the zip ties that held you against the straight back chair. A whimper fell around the gag that was biting into your cheeks and as a hand touched each of your arms, you let out a muffled scream.

The sound alone felt like someone was ripping Frankie's heart out with his own hunting knife. He released you like you had burned him and quickly went for your blindfold first so you could see it was him, not Lorea, not his thugs...him.

"(Y/n)! Baby, stop--it's me, it's me!" He raised his voice to be heard over your fear and you froze.

Blinking slowly, your eyes adjusted to the light as he came into focus in front of you. Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie Morales was squatting in front of you, looking up at your face with a mixture of elation and worry.

His large but gentle hands reached up and, careful of your hair, slipped the cloth gag out of your mouth and let it drop to the floor.

"Cat?" You rasped weakly, the one word catching in your throat like a stone. Your mouth hurt and felt like it was full of paste, dry and clammy at the same time.

"Yeah," he laughed softly in relief as if hearing your voice made you more real. "Hold on, doll." He said, pulling his knife out of the sheath on his boot and cutting through the restraints on your ankles before moving up to each wrist. The plastic snapped easily under the blade and your body felt like it's entire existence gave a sigh as the blood flow resumed to those areas.

Before you could stop yourself, you crumbled off of the chair and against his chest, but he was expecting it. He knew you better than anyone and like always, it was as if he could read your thoughts. Your sobs came easier than you would have liked, but they were impossible to fight.

Frankie's arms wrapped around your body like they had a thousand times before. One hand went to your hair and he looked over his shoulder to Will, "Get Pope." His words were as quiet as he could keep them while still allowing the other man to hear him over your tears.

"Of course," Will nodded, leaving the room at a jog.

"Santi's here?" You managed to choke out and you felt him nod.

"You bet," he tightened his grip on you, clearing the emotion out of his own throat. "Who do you think called in the calvary?"

The fact that your brother had been the one to track you down was not surprising in the slightest. You had hoped against all odds that the moment you didn't show up to meet him in the city, he would have allowed his paranoia to go into full force. But you had no idea that it meant he would rally a rescue posse. It made sense--there was no way he would be able to take the mansion solo, but knowing that all of his guys, the guys that you considered part of the Garcia family, had dropped everything to help him find you made your chest tight. The tears started again and you gripped Frankie's Kevlar vest, too tired to fight them.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling you back against him. "I got you. You're safe now--we're gonna get out of here."

You nodded and looked back up at him. Two years. Two years and not a damn thing had changed about the man in front of you. He still wore a ball cap that you were certain you had seen before, his thick, dark hair curled out from under it and you knew if the hat came off it would be sticking out in every direction. Your fingers itched to touch it, to touch him, any part of him that wasn't the tactical gear that covered the outside of his body. The scruff at the sides of his jaw had just a touch of gray, now that was new, but then again neither of you were kids anymore. You couldn't stop yourself as you touched the edge of his beard with the tips of your fingers. He was here. He was real. And despite the distance and the time between your last encounter, he had come for you.

"Can I kiss you?" Frankie choked out in the empty room as if he held the thought in any longer he was going to burst. His chest ached, and his jaw hurt from clenching his entire body to keep his own tears at bay. He didn't need to add his own shit on top of your distress, and he shouldn't have asked for such an intimate act after just untying you from a fucking chair. But he heard Will's voice promising him that he would get to tell you everything he had ever meant to since you met.

"Yes, yes," you nodded, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and looked at you like he had never seen you before. Your cheek was bruised from the day before, the purple edges starting to turn yellow but the majority not the center remained a painful looking black. Your lip was swollen, very obviously cut open and recently dried by something forceful and crass that should have never been allowed to touch you in the first place. The corners of your mouth were irritated and chapped from the gag and from screaming, another image that he didn't want either of you to have to remember after today.

He shouldn't kiss you, he shouldn't entertain such a self indulgent act when you were this badly hurt, but you didn't stop him. If he was a bigger man, he would have stopped himself, but the thought vanished as he met your eyes. Those soft, kind, eyes that he wanted to lose himself in were so tired, red with tears, and downright broken. If Lorea was still in this house...he would skin him alive.

His lips were a feather's touch against your own and you swallowed the whimper that threatened to leave your mouth because you knew such a noise would gut him. You wanted to hold him close and never let him go again. Suddenly all of the excuses you had ever had for settling down with Frankie Morales were bullshit. You allowed your arms to be pinned against his chest as he held you close and you closed your eyes. He smelled like rain and sweat but under that he smelled like how you remembered, like campfire and earth.

Not wanting to cause you any discomfort, he allowed himself one last quiet peck before nosing your cheek and exhaling softly.

"Take me home, Frankie," you breathed against his face, your voice shaking despite your efforts. "I just want to go home."

He nodded against you and you felt his grip tighten. "You got it. We're going home."

"(Y/n)?," Pope said as he broke the threshold of the room and laid eyes on you and Frankie. "Oh, gracias a Dios," he said, lowering his voice as he crossed the room and fell to his knees with a graceful thud. Frankie relinquished his hold on you so the other man could gather you up into his arms.

You hugged him back as tightly as you could, but nothing prepared you for the grip he engulfed you in and the grimace on your face made Will speak up. "Easy, man, she's seen better days," he called from his position in the doorway and it made you smile.

"Are you hurt? What did they do?" Pope said, sitting back on his heels and holding you at arm's length to see your injuries.

"I'm okay," you tried to sound reassuring. "Sore, but okay."

"Did you have any idea why they wanted your crew?" Will asked, and you shook your head.

"No, I don't. I've been in this room since I got here. I know they change who guards the door, but that's it." You put a hand on Frankie's leg to steady yourself and his hand found the small of your back. Even sitting on the floor, you felt weak, you were so tired.

For two days the only human contact you had was with a select few of Lorea's men. With a shift change, they gave you water, led you to the bathroom, and then redid the zip ties on your hands and feet. The blindfold stayed on through everything and they had strict orders to keep their hands to themselves and not rough you up too much. You weren't stupid--Journalists made good ransom chits, especially American, female ones.

"Is there any of your crew left?" Will asked and you shook your head.

"They killed them, oh god," your hands started to shake again and your breath caught as you remembered the men kneeling in the tennis courts of the mansion, landing in a puddle of blood and darker things with each bang of a gun. "They're dead--it's just me."

Santiago pulled you back against him and put his chin on top of your hair. "It's okay. Stop. Nothing you did would have stopped it. Your job was to survive, remember?"

You nodded, not really wanting one of your brother's trademark military pep-talks. You knew he was right, what else could you have done? But that thought didn't do anything to change the bile in your stomach that made you want to throw up.their coms crackled to life, thankfully drawing yourself out of your own thoughts.

"Fish? You got eyes on (y/n)?" Benny's voice came over the radio and you looked at Will who gave you a wink. Of course he had brought his little brother on the rescue mission.

Frankie reached up and clicked the button pinned to the collar of his shirt. "Yeah we got her. She's okay."

"Good," Tom's voice crackled back. "Now, everyone to the upstairs office. We got a problem."

"Shit," Pope cursed, getting up and letting go of your arms so Frankie could take over. "Take your time," he said to you as your knees wobbled and Frankie hooked his arm around your waist.

"I got her," the other man said, nodding his head in the direction of the door. "Go see what's wrong."

Pope hesitated, taking another glance at you before nodding his thanks to Frankie and Will. The blond moved to the side, but kept his post of guarding the door so Frankie could give you his full attention. He started unbuckling his bulletproof vest and you looked at him in confusion. He tossed his backpack next to his gun on the floor, clearly intent on getting to the vest itself.

"What are you doing?"

"You're gonna put this on," he said flatly, pulling the Kevlar over his head in one fluid motion.

"Frankie, you need that," you tried to protest but he shook his head.

"Arms up," he said firmly and you obeyed in silence. He was gentle as he pulled it over your head and tightened the first strap on your side. He clipped the buckle and moved to the next one, making sure the material hugged you tightly and was secure. As much as you wanted to argue, the look on his face made you bite your tongue. His sole mission was to get you would of that mansion alive by whatever means necessary.

His handsome face was much too serious and you couldn't help putting your hand on his cheek as he leaned down towards your chest to finish the last buckle around your back. The small smile you received was worth the action. He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt and held it in his palm.

"Safety," he said pointing to the small black dot under the magazine. He clicked it up and the dot showed the smallest flash of orange paint underneath. "On."

"I know how to handle a glock, Cat," you said quietly and he grinned.

"Just making sure," he raised his hands in playful defense as he let the full weight of the gun transfer to your own hand. "I know it's not the beretta."

You blushed and shook your head as you holstered the gun in the waistband of your jeans. You suddenly wished you had the beretta that was sitting useless in the nightstand beside your bed. Santiago had purchased it before he left back for Columbia and he entrusted Frankie to teach you how to use it. And the man in front of you had stayed true to his word.

"Let's keep moving," Will broke the silence between the two of you and nodded his head down the hall.

Frankie agreed with a nod of his own and started to walk towards the door only to stop and hold his hand slightly behind him. You crossed the gap and gripped it tightly, something you had done a thousand times, felt as wonderful as it had years ago. "Stay with me," he said gently and you nodded. He knew it was an unnecessary request, because right now, he couldn't think of a single thing that would make him let you out of his sight.

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@ms-dont-care @lustinglilac @fioccodineveautunnale @cahooter

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged, if I missed you, etc etc. There are a few of you that your tags aren't working. 😭😭

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #Pedro pascal #pedro character fic #addicted to you #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales

647 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 5 years

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Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first:

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense.

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go.

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it.

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit.

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world.

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic #guess who spent 48 hours doing nothing but writing and formatting #can I get a wahoo

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 4 years

Text

Accompanist | Vanya Hargreeves and Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: De-Aging

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Words: 1784

A/N: This doesn’t follow any particular storyline. I figure that since there’s always something going wrong when there’s time travel, I’m sure something like this would happen.

It had been months since the Hargreeves siblings had time travelled to fix yet another impending doom. Vanya told you to stay at the Academy with Grace and Pogo where you’d be safe, promising to come back to you as soon as she can.

During that time of waiting, you explored the large Umbrella Academy, looking for any secrets that Reginald Hargreeves might have kept within the walls and within his study. Pogo was gracious enough to give you access to the surveillance tapes, knowing that he could trust you. It was odd to have cameras around the house to monitor your own children, but Reginald was not even human, you knew that much.

Vanya was usually alone when she was growing up, and it worsened when Five disappeared and Ben passed. She would be by herself with only her violin to keep her company. Watching those tapes made every fiber in your being want to climb through the screen to meet younger Vanya and even younger Klaus and hug them and tell them everything was going to be okay. The others seemed to be deep in their own little world to care.

You were helping Grace dust off the railings of the stairways when you heard a strange noise, followed by a few thuds and groans. Grace’s eyes widened before she practically floated down the stairs to the room with the fireplace. You followed close behind and saw Five dusting himself off. He looked down at his siblings and cursed.

“No, damn it!” he shouted.

The others slowly stood up, clutching their heads and looked around. The first thing you noticed was that they were shorter, about Five’s height, which is saying a lot for Luther. Second, they were visibly younger. And third…

“Who the hell is that?” Diego pulled out a knife and pointed it at you.

“No, no, no,” Five muttered, standing between you and Diego.

“Oh, my god, Five!” Allison said. “Look, he’s back!”

“Where the hell have you been?” Luther demanded, stepping forward. Suddenly all the siblings except Vanya and Five were talking over each other, trying to find out what’s happening.

“Oh, dear,” Grace muttered in front of you, “Shall I make pancakes?”

“Okay, let’s go through this one more time,” FIve pressed, standing at the front of the table, his siblings sitting around with a plate of pancakes in front of them. “Questions will have to wait until I’m done. I’m looking at you, Luther and DIego. Now-”

Klaus raised his hand. “Are you going to explain why there’s a stranger in our house?”

Five squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched tightly at his side. You looked over at Vanya who had been quiet the entire time. She was starting at Five in worry before sensing your eyes on her. You offered her a soft smile before turning your attention back to Five.

He went on to explain what happened when he time travelled, omitting a lot of information, given that not only were his siblings in their younger form like he was, but their minds also reverted back to when they were thirteen. You quietly ate your pancake and you could see Klaud shoving them in his mouth and occasionally muttering to the air over his shoulder.

Five finally reached the point where a crisis had occurred and could only be stopped if they went back in time. While they had fixed the problem, there were slight miscalculations travelling back.

Klaus raised his hand again. “That doesn’t explain the stranger eating pancakes with us,” he said.

All eyes turned to you midbite. You placed down your fork and straightened your back. “I am… Vanya’s friend,” you said.

Diego snorted, making Allison elbow him. Klaus seemed to accept this, looking almost happy for his sister for having a friend. Luther paid no mind to any of this, leaning forward towards you with a glare. You were unfazed by this, taking another bite of your pancake.

“I don’t know what your game is, but when Dad gets back-”

“Who cared about dad,” Diego interrupted him.

Luther whipped his head around and looked at him as if he said the most ridiculous thing. They both pushed their chairs back and squared each other up with Allison rolling her eyes between them. She pushed their shoulders down, hoping that they’d drop it.

“I heard a rumor,” Allison said, “that the two of you sat your asses down and be quiet.”

They slammed themselves down on their chairs, opening their mouths but no sound came out.

Five sighed. “Thank you, Allison. Now, until I figure out how to fix this, we will just have to stay put in here. Meaning no sneaking out to fight crime or to get any donuts, alright?”

Luther frowned, wanting to ask him who made him in charge. Five simply shook his head, feeling a migraine forming. Was it possible to grow gray hairs when you’re in a teenager’s body?

Pogo walked in and stood next to Five. “Five is right,” he said, “It would do no good gallivanting out before this problem is fixed.”

They all looked at each other and sighed. Once Five and Pogo agreed on some ground rules, the others got up and left to busy themselves around the house. Vanya was the last one to leave, her eyes lingering on you before turning to Five.

“Did you ever find the peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches I left for you?” she asked softly.

Five sighed, his expression softened. “No, I’m sorry. But, there was not a day that went by that I never thought of those peanut butter marshmallow sandwiches. In fact, I could go for one now.”

Vanya smiled. You nodded at Five and left them to their sandwich making. Pogo followed you out until you reached the grand stairs.

“We need to keep a close eye on her,” he whispered.

“I know why you’re saying this, but she wouldn’t be much of a perceived danger if everyone had given her the love and attention that she deserved. All of them would have progressed so much more if there was positive reinforcement instead of needless competition and isolation.”

Pogo nodded at this. “You’re right, and I was foolish in keeping silent. Just let me know when you need any help.”

“I will.”

You were reading through books that could help Five reverse the effects of their recent time travel when you heard a clatter in front of you. Vanya froze, her violin case clutched close to her chest. You bookmarked your place and set the book down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “Is this where you usually practice?”

She nodded.

“Would you mind… if I listen a little? You can say no, I just wanted to hear you play. I play the piano, you see.”

“You said you were my friend… in the future,” she said.

“Yes, I am. Sometimes I’d accompany you with my piano when you play. You’re an amazing musician.”

She tucked her chin in, looking down in embarrassment. You slowly stood up and stepped to the side. Before you could walk out, she grabbed your wrist.

“Can you tell me how we became friends?”

You smiled. “Sure.”

You had the routine of playing music with Vanya in between helping Five and bouncing ideas with him. After a while, the others would sit and listen while you and Vanya played. You bet that this was the first time they had actually sat down and paid attention to her music. Klaus had his eyes closed while he sat back while Allison watched, memorized. Diego was surprisingly quiet, gradually being less restless and stopped to appreciate it, though he knew that Luther wasn’t going to relax.

“Thank you,” Vanya said as she was cleaning her violin.

“For what?” you asked.

“For playing music with me. It’s… nice. Being the ordinary sister of six superheroes can be lonely. I started playing the violin to have something of my own that I could be good at, but they still never spared me a glance until now.”

You smiled, leaning forward to gently squeeze her hand. “Vanny, you are extraordinary, you know that?” She shook her head. “You are. You don’t need superpowers to be amazing. Even a normal person can make a big difference. You don’t realize how much power you have in you.”

“You’re too nice. You’re lying.”

“I’m your best friend, Vanny. I only speak the truth.”

Vanya wanted to take a break from playing, so you went around the house to check on everyone. You could always check the surveillance cameras, but they were too invasive and too impersonal.

Walking past some of the rooms, you smelled the burning of a particular plant down the hall. You knocked on Klaus’s room before opening the door. Klaus was furiously stubbing out his joint and knocked it down, kicking it under the bed.

“And what do I owe the pleasure?” Klaus asked with a cheeky smile.

You wanted to give him a speech that drugs won’t help him, and would only make it worse, but you had a feeling he knew. The memories of being locked up in the mausoleum were too strong to ignore. He needed something else to focus on and pour his energy into.

“Wanna learn the piano?”

The next thing you knew, you were teaching Klaus piano, Diego guitar, and Allison singing. It was the first time in a while that you’ve seen them so relaxed. Pogo had approved your decision of shifting their focus on other activities separate from their training while Grace would praise them for their quick learning and mastery. The expansive Academy was finally filled with music.

Once Five figured out the right formula to revert them back to normal, he gathered everyone into the living room with the fireplace. They all stood in a circle holding hands.

“Now, everyone needs to hold still and concentrate, alright?” Five said, slowly building up his power. When he saw that his siblings were ready, his power spread around the circle, engulfing them in a translucent blue aura.

The energy rustled any surrounding loose objects. The lights began to flicker as their bodies began to shift. They began to grow into their adult bodies, their faces morphing into mature features. Five stopped, pulling back and touching his face. He remained the same, but at least everyone else seemed to return to normal.

“(Y/n/n),” Vanya sighed, walking straight to you and hugged you tightly. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Thank you for the way you treated her. Young Vanya,” she whispered.

“Of course, Vanny. My piano doesn’t sound right without your violin.”

#WritersMonth2020 #vanya hargreeves and reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagine #tua #tua imagine #oneshot

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euphoniumpets · 4 years

Text

Nothing left to say | Diego Hargreeves x reader (1/10)

Prompt: ‘’Everybody is afraid of something, and she will become their fear who they cannot control.’’

Authors note: hiya, and welcome to the first actual chapter of nothing left to say! here we go for the wild riiiide. also a quick reminder, Elijah Jenkins is Dylan Sprouse! tag list is still open for those want to be tagged! Also, send an ask or an comment of what you guys thought of this chapter!!Also, so sorry for the late update, school have just begun and it’s going crazzy.

Warnings: may come up some disturbing scenes in the future chapters such as child abuse, manipulation etc.

Tag List: @losers-club6 @frantasmic @guineverebeckilicious @emma-is-a-nerd @white-wolf-buckaroo @irenne-stans

As you fiddeled with your keys, you let out a heavy sigh. It has been hours since you worked from the hospital and you couldn’t wait to come home, shower, and then sleep for the rest of the hours. You shared your apartment along with Vanya and the two of you were close. y/n Hargreeves were just an ordinary girl with no special ablitites like the rest of the family.

Along with Vanya, they had been told that they were just ordinary and they were being isolated from the family. When you decided to leave the umbrella academy alone, Vanya followed into your footsteps. You and Vanya worked to get an nice, cozy, small apartment that could fit the two of you.

After you had earned some money, you decided to get your phd and then worked at a Hospital as a nurse. Ever since you were a child, you wanted to help people, you were always the one who made sure that everyone was okay. Even though, when they didn’t wanted your help.

You opened the door as you took off your coat. It was like everyday, you would go home, blame yourself that you could’ve saved the patients you would take care of. Working at a hospital is not an easy job. Seeing people die, was not an easy job either. You thanked Vanya since she was the one who would often comfort you after work.

‘‘Hey, Vanya, you home?’‘ You called out after you put your coat away and walked towards the kitchen. ‘‘Yeah,’‘ You hear Vanya’s small voice as she approached in the kitchen. You saw her dull look which made you frown. ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ You asked her as you crossed her arms. ‘’It’s Dad,’’ Was all she replied before you got to hear the news.

After hearing the news about your father, that he had died from a simple heartattack. You and Vanya packed your stuff as you mentally prepared when she decided to go back where you spent the rest of your childhood, the umbrella academy. Vanya had called an uber as it took some hours before the two of you arrived.

Watching from outside as you stared at the big mansion in front of you, you took a deep sigh as Vanya came and stood next to you. ‘’You okay?’’ She asked you with a frown as you looked at her. ‘’Shouldn’t I be the one who’s asking you that?’’ You questioned her as she let out a small smile on her lips.

‘‘Besides, I bet you that they are still pissed about that book,’‘ You huffed as Vanya’s look turned into a guilty one. ‘‘Yeah,’‘ She responded before you walked in. Standing in the hallway along with Vanya, you heard footsteps to your right as you saw the familiar figure of Pogo. You let out a small smile towards that apeman.

‘‘Pogo,’‘ You replied as the two of you walked towards him. ‘‘Welcome home, Ms. Y/n, Vanya,’‘ He greeted to the both of you as you hugged him and then Vanya.

‘’God, it’s been a long time since we was here,’’ You replied as you felt immedieatly flashbacks towards your childhood. Dread filled your body whenever you would think of when you were little.

‘’I won’t be staying here for long, I’ve got work,’’ You informed him as he nodded. ‘’I understand, how’s thing going on the hospital you work for?’’ He asked you. ‘’It’s hard but, it’s something that I enjoy saving people,’’ You replied as Pogo left a smile.

‘‘I’m going to my room, if that’s okay?’‘

‘‘Of course,’‘ Vanya replied.

You waved towards them before you walked upstairs. As you sighed softly, you tugged onto your backpack before you approached your bedroom. You placed your hand as you opened the door, gently and as you expected, everything was the same when you left the place.

You walked in as nostalgia consumed you as you placed your bag on the bed. You began to pack out your clothes for the night before you heard the familiar voice. ‘’Y/n?’’ Turning around, you saw Diego in his black clothing. ‘’Diego,’’

You and Diego had an odd relationship.

You and Vanya were the ordinary ones and were left out of the group. You couldn’t be with your sister and brothers without the whole family ignored the two of you, until one day, Diego approached you outside asking what book you were reading.

‘‘Hi,’‘

An awkward silence began to form between the two of you. You always hated it whenever that would happen. Besides, it has been years since when the two had talked to each other because of that promise you made each other.

‘‘Did you made her to do it?’‘ Diego suddenly asked. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘‘What do you mean?’‘

‘‘I meant that did you support her when she started to write the book?’‘

Ah. The book. The book where one day Vanya had her idea to start her writing career. Revealing about the secret what really went inside the umbrella academy.

A defending glare showed up. ‘’And why should you care?’’ You spat.

‘‘I care because I’m your family,’‘ He retorted back as he walked closer to you.

‘‘Last time you were my family, you dissappeared without me,’‘ You sneered as all memories flooded back to Diego.

‘‘Besides,’‘ You cut him off his thoughts. ‘‘It’s her own damn decision, the last time I remembered because my siblings weren’t the most supportive when we were young,’‘

‘‘It’s because you were-’’

‘‘we were ordinary ones. I know,’‘

Silence.

‘’Did you... Did you love me? Back then, when we were kids?’’ Diego’s eyes snapped towards you.

‘‘No,’‘ You could feel your heart breaking because you hoped that he would feel or felt the same way because the feeling never left.

‘’Why then? I always asked myself when why did you come to me when I was the one who were isolated from all of you?’‘

‘‘Because Dad made me to do it,’‘

‘‘He wanted me to distract you so that’s why,’‘ He replied. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes and you could tell that he wasn’t lying. ‘‘Why?’‘ You choked out. Diego hated himself now because he still, even when he had grown up, he still didn’t know why his father made he as a distraction to you.

‘‘I didn’t ask any questions,’‘ A knock was interrupted as you turned to look over Luther in the doorway. ‘‘Hey,’‘ He called out softly as you didn’t saw Diego rolls his eyes as he turned towards him.

‘‘Everybody’s downstairs,’‘ Luther replied awkwardly as soon he saw Diego’s glare before walking away. You sighed as you followed after Luther before Diego’s voice stopped you. ‘‘Did you love me?’‘

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Diego had tears in his eyes and he looked broken than ever. ‘’No,’’

Walking downstairs as you tried to calm yourself down. You took out your pills from the bottle before placing it in your mouth. You could see that Luther was right and you saw everyone down there.

‘‘Hey, y/n,’‘ You heard Allison’s voice as you looked at her. ‘‘Wow, hey, it’s been ages since we saw each other,’‘ You both chuckled as she nodded. ‘‘Yeah,’‘

‘‘How’s Claire?’‘

‘‘She’s fine,’‘ Allison replied with a smile. ‘‘It’s good to see you,’’ She told you as you sent her a soft smile. ‘‘It’s good to see you too,’‘

‘‘Do you guys want anything?’‘ Klaus asked everyone. Vanya shook her head as you were about also to decline but saw Diego walking inside the room. ‘‘Actually, yeah, I need a drink that I could survive for just today,’‘ You muttered.

Klaus nodded as Vanya looked at you with concern. ‘’Don’t you have work tomorrow?’’ She asked you as you shrugged.

‘‘Yeah but a drink can’t hurt, right?’‘

‘‘That’s my girl,’‘ Klaus replied before he went towards the bar as you sent him a smile. There’s only a few minutes where the only noise is coming from Klaus behind the bar.

Luther stands up as he cleared his throat as he tried to get yours attention. You watched him with amusement. ‘‘Uh, I guess we should get this started,’‘ He began. Klaus is still in the background as you held your laugther when Klaus tried to make much more noise with his drinks as Luther glared at him and cleared his throat.

‘‘So, I figured out we could have some sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dads favorite spot-’’

‘’Dad had a favorite spot?’’ Allison interrupted with a question look.

‘‘Yeah, you know, under the oak tree,’’ He replied as he noticed the confused glances you all gave him.

‘‘The oak tree?’‘ You repeated.

‘‘Yeah, we used to sit there all the time...’‘ He paused for a moment. ‘‘None of you ever did that?’‘ He mumbled. Klaus then barged in with your drink in his hand as you sent him a grateful smile.

You accepted the drink as Klaus held a trophy in one hand and a cigarette along with his drink. ‘’Lovely,’’ You muttered as you sipped in delight.

‘‘Will there be refreshments?’‘ You chuckled towards Klaus reply as he looked at each sister with a smile. ‘‘Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner,’‘

‘‘What no!’‘ Luther replied seriously. ‘‘And put that out, dad didn’t allow smoking in here,’‘ Klaus shrugged and placed the cigarette between his lips as he twirled around the room.

‘‘Is that my skirt?’‘ Allison replied in disbelief as she pointed towards her brother.

‘‘What?’‘ He turns around. He looked down at his legs before he admired the fabric and looked up. ‘‘Oh! yeah, I found it in your room, it’s a little dated, I know but, it’s very breathy on the...bits,’‘ You let out a snort towards his comment.

‘‘Listen up! There’s still some important things we need to discuss, alright?’‘

‘‘Like what?’‘ Diego snaps as you turned towards his voice. Locking with his eyes from a second, you snapped away as you gulped and continued to drink.

‘‘Like the way he died,’‘

‘‘Aand here we go,’‘ Diego replied as he rolled his eyes. Vanya tilted her head in confusion and shifts her seat next to you. You moved to the middle so Klaus could sit next to you.

‘‘I don’t understand,’‘ Vanya replied slowly. ‘‘I thought they said it was a heart attack,’‘

‘‘Yeah, according to the coroner,’‘

‘‘Well, wouldn’t they know?’‘ Vanya asked. ‘‘Theoretically,’‘

‘‘Theoretically?’‘ Allison echoes. Your attention is full on Luther this time. ‘’What are you talking about? Are you telling us that they lied?’‘ You asked him as he looked at you.

‘‘I’m just saying that something else could’ve happened,’‘ He replied. ‘‘Last time I talked to Dad, he sounded strange,’‘

‘‘Oh, quelle surprise!’‘ Klaus exclaimed as he gurgles on his drink. ‘‘Strange how?’‘

‘‘He sounded on edge, told me to be careful who to trust,’‘ He replied to Allison as he glanced all over his siblings.

‘‘Luther,’‘ Diego sighed. ‘‘He was a paranoid, bitter, old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles,’‘ You watched Diego stand up from his seat and approach Luther. Luther shifts uncomfortably.

‘‘No, he must’ve known something was gonna happen,’‘ Luther stops as he looked towards Klaus who is in his own world. ‘‘Look, I know you don’t like it but, I need you to talk to dad,’‘

Klaus brings his head down and looks between you and Vanya. You look down towards the ground with guilt before his gaze turned towards Luther in disbelief and pointed at his chest.

‘‘I can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like, Dad can you just...stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?’‘

‘‘Since when?’‘ Luther scoffed. ‘‘That’s your thing,’‘

‘‘I’m not in the frame..of mind,’‘ He explained.

‘‘Your high?’‘ Allison questioned without looking up from her drink.

‘‘Yeah! Yeah! I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense!’‘ Klaus laughed.

Klaus slumps back into his seat and chug down his drink as Luther sighed deeply and pointed towards him.

‘‘Well, sober up! It’s important,’‘ Klaus groans in response. You patted Klaus leg gently as he sighs and closed his eyes while continue to smoke his cigarette.

‘‘Then there is the issue of the missing monocle,’‘ Luther begins but is interrupted by Diego.

‘‘Who gives a shit about some stupid monocle,’‘ He scoffs.

‘‘Exactly!’‘ He exclaimed as he turned to look at Diego. ‘‘It’s worthless so, whoever took it, it must have been personal, someone close to him, someone with a grudge,’‘

You could feel the air was becoming thick with tension as everybody glanced at each other. ‘’Where are you going with this?’’ Klaus asks as you let out a scoff.

‘‘Oh, isn’t obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed dad,’‘ Diego responded.

‘‘You do?’‘ Klaus asked him.

‘‘How could you do that?’‘ Vanya asked him with disbelief.

‘‘Great job, Luther, way to lead,’‘ Diego leaned in and patted onto his shoulder. Everybody started to leave as you let out a snicker and shook your head with your drink as you followed everyone, leaving Luther alone in the livingroom.

#diego hargreeves x reader #Allison Hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy

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firewoodfigs · 4 years

Text

into each life some rain must fall

Six times he stands before a grave in the rain, grieving. But this time, courage is reborn. [5+1 Things]

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Riza Hawkeye is terrifying. This is the first thought that crosses Roy’s mind when he sees her slicing up the carcass of a chicken (or is it a duck?) without even flinching. So when it rains that day, he doesn't think it’s necessary to find her, in hopes of passing her an umbrella. Truthfully, he doubts someone like her is even capable of catching the common cold.

Perhaps it’s childlike bravery, or sheer stupidity, but Roy decides to search for her anyway. He can think of many reasons why this is an awful idea. First, Roy knows he’s kind of good-looking, the same way he knows he’s sort of ingenious and incredible. But he also knows his aunt is paying a lot of money for his lessons, and that he’s here to learn; not to chase girls or get a girlfriend. Second, he knows from his sisters’ stories that the female imagination is capable of unimaginable things, and he most certainly does not want her, of all people, to get the wrong idea.

If word ever gets out about the little stunt he’s about to pull, his sisters would never let him live it down.

But thunder rumbles in the distance, and rain pelts down incessantly, relentlessly. It’s enough to make even a grown man shiver. So he jogs over to her school in quick strides, searching for a socially awkward urchin with messy golden hair and a terrifying glare.

Roy only manages to find her in the end, after what must have been hours of searching. She’s not at school, no. She’s kneeling in front of a tombstone with a bunch of wilted freesias and roses, staring blankly at the inscription written on it.

He says nothing, only lifts his umbrella over her grieving form and lets half of himself get drenched.

Miss Hawkeye glares at him when she finally notices his presence, but accepts the umbrella begrudgingly nonetheless. As she turns around to face him, he sees rivulets streaming down her cheeks, and Roy wonders if it's the rain or her tears.

She rubs her eyes impatiently. “It’s just the rain,” she insists, even though the umbrella shields her from the raging storm overhead.

ii.

Master Hawkeye dies in his arms after begging him to take care of his daughter. He’s only twenty, halfway through the academy and still unacquainted with death. He’s too stunned to care about decorum and propriety and honorifics at the moment, and ends up yelling for Riza to come.

She appears a moment later, hair still a dishevelled, dampened mess; knuckles white from gripping the doorframe so hard. Her eyes are hollow and she’s too numb, too shocked to say or do anything as she stares at her father’s unnaturally still form.

For a long while, nothing he says seems to elicit any kind of response from her. It’s almost like she’s catatonic; trapped in another dimension where he can’t reach her.

He ends up taking care of the burial and the estate and everything else.

The funeral passes by in a haze. It’s a small, quiet affair. His master has never had many (or any, actually) friends to begin with, anyway, given his eccentricity and preference for seclusion.

Roy stays by her side before a gravestone again afterwards. It’s a sunny day. She doesn’t kneel this time; only stares quietly at the name engraved on it like it belongs to a stranger rather than a father.

To his dismay, he learns that, unlike him, she has no other living relatives or family to turn to. How lonely must it be, then, being trapped in this nondescript, deserted town all by herself?

So he offers her his contact details; his dreams and aspirations for the future as an excuse for them to maintain some semblance of a friendship. It’s probably closer to an acquaintanceship, given that they hadn’t really spoken much even during his stay at the Hawkeye manor. Either way, it’s better than being all alone, he thinks.

In exchange, Miss Hawkeye simply responds with a small, sad smile before asking if she can entrust her back to his dream; offering her own naive ideals and hopes for a better, brighter future.

And then, she unbuttons her blouse as soon as they return to the manor to unveil an intricate array begging to be deciphered. For all his brains and talents Roy can only stare, shell-shocked.

What the hell had his master done?

The sky begins to weep for the abuse she’s endured for the sake of bearing an alchemist’s legacy. But the misty rain can’t wash away the ink splaying out like blood on her back; the pain she must have suffered during the excruciating procedure.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing he can say to break the silence that hangs over them like a death sentence, as he crosses the distance between them to ghost his fingers over the apology inscribed onto her back.

Miss Hawkeye offers him an impassive shrug. “It… it doesn’t matter,” she mumbles, but her shoulders are quaking and her hands are trembling as she grips on to her blouse for dear life.

iii.

The war finally ends. Rain descends from the heavens like drops of silver after what must surely have been hell on earth. A rarity, Roy thinks, where condensation in the air is caused only by blood, not water. A gift from the gods (do they exist?), perhaps. He lifts his palms heavenward, as if begging for the rain to wash away his sins; his scars and his very soul.

It doesn’t. A soldier like him now inured to violence and gore doesn’t deserve such a reprieve.

At the very least, though, the Hero of Ishval is grateful that it renders him useless. A hero. The title sits uncomfortably on his tongue, in his gut. He’s nothing more than a murderer; a monster, and he doesn’t want any medals of gold or glory emblazoned across his military garb. Not when they’re just symbols celebrating death and destruction.

Roy watches from the distance as a sorrowful silhouette with a familiar tuft of blonde hair kneels over a makeshift grave.

“An Ishvalan child, shot and left to die on the roadside alone,” she explains reverently with a forlorn smile, when he inches closer to ask whether it’s a fallen comrade.

He swallows thickly. God, if only he’d kept his ugly mouth shut back then. Then maybe she’d still just be shooting birds and rabbits and antelopes. Maybe she’d still be making chicken soup for dinner now (imagining the smell of cooked meat is enough to make him nauseous). Maybe she’d still be stuck in the raffish countryside; in that countrified, eerie manor all by herself.

Being alone, he thinks, is still infinitely better than being surrounded by cadavers in a deluge of blood-stained sand.

The… sniper (The Hawk’s Eye leaves an awfully bitter taste in his mouth, like he’s biting a bullet) clenches her fist when she’s done, before asking him for the impossible.

“I have a favour to ask of you, Mr. Mustang,” she begins. “Please burn and crush my back.”

“There’s no way I can -” Roy replies immediately, almost yelling. How in the world could he burn her flesh, with the alchemy he’d learnt from her back?

“Please,” she says, begging for him to liberate her from the bonds chaining her to a deceased man so that she can be her own person. Just Riza Hawkeye, not the keeper of her father’s secrets.

“Damn it,” Roy curses under his breath. She makes it sound like it’s her fault for entrusting her father’s research to him. But isn’t he the one who had abused the power entrusted to him; defiled her trust, destroyed her hopes of everyone getting their happy ending somehow?

And yet... endings like these only exist in grand castles and fairy tales. Not in arid, scorched deserts, and most certainly not in their horror stories of ruthless murder and bloody genocide and endless strife.

If only he’d been a little less foolish back then. If only.

Roy relents.

iv.

Rain pours down in heavy, roaring torrents when he burns her back. Roy wishes it could fall through the roof somehow; douse the fire eating her at her flesh so he doesn’t have to hear her suppressed screams that come out as whimpers as she bites down on an old, ragged cloth. It breaks his heart to burn her, a friend he’s come to cherish and appreciate through all the hell they’ve endured together over bland coffee and stale bread.

But he does so anyway. Because it’s what she wants - no, what she needs. He lets the massive downpour swallow the sounds of their cries; lets the wind carry away the lethal secret that has killed hundreds (or thousands?) into the dark, endless void.

“It… it’s done,” Roy whispers breathlessly at last. He removes the burnt tissue carefully, mindful of her quivering frame before covering them with sterile dressings. Then, he gives her the painkillers he’d gathered from the apothecary, which she eagerly swallows.

He doesn’t dare meet her eyes while she’s still conscious, fearing that he’ll only see hatred swimming in them. How could she not, after all that he’s done? He wouldn’t blame her, to be honest. She has every right to, and he deserves every ounce of it.

Fortunately, the medicine kicks in quickly. Roy kneels before her half-lucid form as her eyelids begin to flutter shut. God, he wants to beg for forgiveness, but...

“I forgive you,” she murmurs sleepily even before he says anything, before finally falling into painless oblivion. Roy stays by her side, nervously close and gentle as he wipes her forehead with a cool, damp cloth to make sure a fever doesn’t develop.

Afterwards, he goes to her parents’ grave to beg them for forgiveness; to repent for all that he’s done to their daughter.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t fulfil your last wish, Master,” he cries, filled with regret that he hadn’t listened to his warning back then. The stones only stare back at him wordlessly. Self-reproach swallows him whole, the way squalls of driving rain completely engulf him.

A little less than a month later, Riza Hawkeye marches into his office, stoic and stalwart with an unrivalled expertise in guns and an unyielding duty to the living and the dead. He’s inclined to believe that maybe, just maybe, he can make the necessary reparations and restitutions with her by his side. And so he makes her his personal adjutant; gives her the right to shoot his back if he steps off the path.

It’s the least he can do after he’s defaced hers, after all.

“Will you follow me?” Roy asks apprehensively.

“If that is your wish, then even into hell,” she states, not flinching in the least. He wants to tell her that she’s already been through hell with him, and she doesn’t deserve anymore of that.

Instead, he grits his teeth and looks on ahead resolutely, determined not to let her down this time.

Brigadier General Maes Hughes is buried on a relatively bright afternoon. The sun shines as birds sing and flowers begin to bloom. The spring sky shimmers overhead in a vibrant, cheerful shade of blue like it’s paying an ode to his sprightly nature.

And yet, the ceremony is distinctly somber: it’s filled with soldiers who aren’t allowed to break protocol and say their eulogies and prayers; a wife whose heart is torn asunder, who still yearns for him to return home, and a child who’s far too young to understand that he’s not coming back.

Colonel Mustang stands at attention as the soldiers lower his best friend six feet under. His stomach coils as his heart wrenches. He feels like throwing up again. A part of him wishes his body would stop behaving in this manner so that he can at least attempt to convince himself that this isn’t real; that it’s just a feverish dream which will be chased away by the morning light.

But it’s real. It’s not a dream. Because Elicia, darling Elicia is crying for her father. “Why are you burying Papa?” she yells. “He has to return to his work!”

Roy only barely manages to stop himself from grieving aloud. Years of military training, perhaps. He continues watching quietly as the bugle sounds off in Hughes’ honour instead, and waits for everyone to leave before saying his piece.

Well, almost everyone.

“... Are you alright?” His Lieutenant asks.

“Yes,” he answers unconvincingly. “It’s… it’s a terrible day for rain.”

She looks up at the vast horizon above them, a pretty pastel pink with tender ribbons of lilac streaking across. “It’s not raining -”

“Yes, it is,” he whispers, before donning the military cap once more.

Thankfully, Hawkeye understands. She gives him a moment to grieve, not bothering with senseless platitudes or empty sympathies. A crow caws in the distance, calling for the departed soul of his friend as he stands, uniform dry but cheeks inexplicably damp.

“Let’s go, sir. It’s getting chilly here,” Lieutenant Hawkeye calls gently. Colonel Mustang nods and obliges, leaving his best friend behind in the setting sun.

Daybreak arrives once more, like clockwork. His eyes are raw and red and swollen shut as he mulls over the consequences of ditching work for the day.

Hawkeye turns up at his doorstep with freshly baked bread and a warm cup of coffee just then: the morning light that offers him a brief respite from grief.

vi.

It’s pouring this time as he stands in front of Hughes’ grave. Somehow, it always does whenever he stands alive before death.

The sky and rain are like sackcloth and ash, Roy thinks, as it falls on his shoulders and shrouds him from the rest of the world in a sad, pearly grey. But he’s been so scared and frustrated and exhausted over the past few months - from losing his closest friend, to dealing with a government corrupt to its very core and an impending nationwide catastrophe - that it’s a welcome relief.

“It’s almost time, Colonel,” comes a gentle voice in the midst of the gloomy darkness.

The downpour gradually lessens into a soft drizzle.

It’s impossible to miss the scent of her, lavender and petrichor masked beneath gunpowder even in this graveyard reeking of death. And it finally dawns upon Roy then, why the time they’d spent apart had felt like an eternity; why it’d pained him so badly like someone was ripping his innards out. Because he loves her. He loves her so much that it pushes out through every fiber of his being; that he almost can’t contain the urge to kiss her; hold her, keep her in his arms forever.

Behind him, he hears her feet shift subtly. Her breathing is weary and slightly laboured. A well-timed reminder that she’s very much alive, not buried underneath soil like the other rotting corpses in this god-awful place.

Roy bites on his lips, hard, to restrain himself from crushing them on hers. They don’t need any more fires between them when they already have enough to extinguish.

But she’s here now, at least, and that’s more than enough. It’s enough for him to keep moving forward despite having buried a part of himself alongside the man he’d seen as a comrade, a friend and a brother. It’s enough for courage to be reborn; for him to face another day with strength and hope.

“Let’s go, Lieutenant,” he says at last, a genuine smile crossing his features for the first time in months. She hesitates for a moment before trailing behind him, footsteps quiet and steadfast. And when they depart the land of the dead (together) to meet the maelstrom awaiting the living he’s not afraid anymore.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #5+1 fic #5+1 things

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 4 years

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Born Into the Wilds - 07. Moot

I just remembered that I didn’t put the latest chapter here on tumblr. So here it is and also a Link to AO3. Thank you @lightsaberwieldingdalek for your help!

In which Nyx parkours aound Little Galahd and old people debate while everybody else watches.

Featuring: hunting reporters, Nyx' recklessnes, politics, old people with agendas, family drama in the background, Ulric clan history, Nyx' lack of self worth, magic, and did I mention politics?

Warnings: mentions of war, flight and death

Foreign words:

sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller cünaniu = a moot, basically a publilc gathering to debate stuff. Held by selected Elders and has to be an odd number druhm = edible root that looks like a black carrot and tastes a bit like hazelnut and is sweet like beetroot, can be used in teas, be roasted or cooked maneth = mother, stepmother; affectionate term oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title Galahkari = people of Galahd ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit buhgil = term of endearment for children; lit.: sprout (noun)

Nyx scaled the outer wall of the concrete building with all the grace of a disgruntled cat. Muttering obscene curses under his breath, he swung himself over the railing and landed on the flat roof in a crouch with nary a sound.

The day had started so well. Considering the circumstances, that is.

It had been an absolute disaster.

After being thrown out of bed by Libertus and swinging by Pelna's place to find out what the realms of Pitioss was going on, sinehär gisdrauht Istoria Patientia had come by personally to 'invite' him to a cünaniu that was to happen this afternoon. It had been shortly after lunch, Pelna, Libertus, Luche and Axis had to attend a spontaneous training exercise and so hadn't been there. Nyx himself was still on medical leave and so Tethys had invited him to stay.

Greetings had been exchanged. Istoria sat at the table, a steaming cup of the traditional tea of welcome in front of her. The smell of druhm roots, pepper, cardamom, liquorice and honey made Nyx think back to his sister's first tries that had been overly strong and sweet. Barely eight, she had been so proud of her achievement that neither his mother nor him had uttered anything but compliments. That day had been full of Selena's bright laughter.

Istoria took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “You have a skilled hand for brewing tea, Tethys of Clan Najad.”

“Thank you, Sinehär Patientia. My maneth taught me; her teas were said to be the best,” demurred Tethys, her own cup between her hands and a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The short exchange startled Nyx out of his childhood reverie. Silently reprimanding himself for his lapse in attention, he forced the image of a smiling and laughing Selena from his mind. The painful stab of regret he felt in his heart every time he thought of her, had never gotten easier to bear over the years.

“For which occasion do you honour my family with your visit, sinehär?” asked the younger woman.

“To my regret it's not a member of your family I came to meet,” Istoria said. Her eyes were firmly set on Nyx who dearly wished he could vanish into the ground at that very moment. “A cünaniu has been called for this afternoon and Oirkar Ulric has been invited to speak among us.”

Her body language, the set of her jaw and the tone of her voice made it clear what kind of invitation it was. Should he not show up at the gathering he would lose what standing he had within the Galahkari of Insomnia. Loathe as he was to admit it, if he didn't have his standing as the head of an old and respected clan, much of the shit he did get himself into wouldn't end as well as it normally did.

Beneath the sharp eyes of both women in the room, Istoria's giving nothing away and Tethys' silently promising to get an explanation out of him, he bowed his head in acceptance.

“I will be there, to speak and to listen,” he said.

“Good,” nodded the old woman. “Now, I don't care how you do it, but get those reporters out of Little Galahd as fast as you can. They're more of a nuisance than evergrow weed.”

“Of course, sinehär,” muttered Nyx, internally wincing. He'd had to turn off his phone after the ninth call from one reporter or other. He knew it wouldn't help any in the long run, but for now he could actually talk to someone without being interrupted every five minutes. Maybe he should invest into a new number. Though he had no idea how to do what the Elder had asked of him.

“The cünaniu will be held by the community fire at exactly 4pm. I trust you know the etiquette of an invited speaker?”

Nyx nodded again. All Clan Heads had to know; they were most likely the ones to be invited, if someone was. Speak clearly and only when prompted. Any other time an invited speaker wanted to say something they had to take a step forward and wait until they were acknowledged. The surrounding crowd, if there was one, wasn't to be addressed ever. Since this was a formal event the proper titles had to be observed.

They drank the rest of their tea largely in silence, only interrupted by the spare bits of small talk Tethys and Istoria engaged in.

This was not going to be any kind of fun. At all.

Now he crept over the flat roof of an apartment complex in the middle of Little Galahd not too far from the courtyard the Galahkari had chosen as their speaking grounds, with little time remaining and on the run from those damned reporters.

Carefully, he crept over the roof between damp bed sheets that had been hung out to dry. They made his way into a labyrinth that his him quite well and made him feel marginally safer. It was childish, but he couldn't quite help it. He still didn't dare to stand up properly.

If he ever found out who had blabbed, he was getting Luche to do a blood eagle for him. And damn the consequences. The longer he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it must have been the lab technician who talked. He doubted that either King Regis, Shield Amicitia or General Leonis would sabotage the situation like that. Nyx had known from the start that it was a bad idea to consent to a private audience.

At the reminder of that private office and that awful portrait he snarled at the bed sheets drying in the warm air and spit out in an impulsive show of disdain. Ozone burned in his nose and when his fingers brushed one of the sheets the spot started to sizzle.

He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. No, now was not the time to be upset about a portrait depicting the Conqueror King, as justified as it may be. It was just a portrait for ahtrihn sake. The man himself was long dead. It was a cold comfort.

He reached the other end of the roof and glanced down at the street five storeys below him. Not a reporter in sight. Just a few Galahkari making their way to and fro, easily recognizable by the patterns of their clothes.

Thank Enías for making me lose them.

It would have been so embarrassing, if those reporters had managed to follow him all the way here. Nyx had probably lost them somewhere around the the narrow streets around the marketplace, where they had made such a ruckus that some pedestrians had looked close to causing bodily harm. Well, most Lucians had a talent for that, so it wasn't anything new. The point was he had finally lost them.

Furrowing his brow in consideration he glanced down at the street again. It wasn't far towards the court yard where the community fire was, now. Should he risk it?

Scoffing at himself – he wasn't scared of a few reporters, damn it – he made his way down, jumping from windowsill to windowsill as if they were the branches of a tree made out of concrete.

Somebody yelped in surprise and Nyx winked at a woman standing by the windowsill he was using as a temporary perch, a wide and playful grin on his face. He jumped the last two storeys down followed by a slew of obscene curses. People turned around to see what was going on, but as soon as they recognized him they nodded in greeting and went back to their own business.

Heh, he still got it.

His grin transformed into a satisfied one as he flounced off towards the community fire.

The spark in his bones rumbled like a giant satisfied cat.

After running all over Little Galahd – technically it was just the market place and a few streets, but there wasn't anybody present to refute his claim, so there – he was nearly late. There were more people present in the courtyard than he had expected. Then again, considering the topic to be discussed it honestly wasn't too surprising.

Nyx saw quite a few friends and closer acquaintances in the mingling crown, but didn't have the time for more than a nod in greeting. Luche, Axis, Pelna, Crowe and Libertus were part of the training exercise the Glaive was scheduled to do today, Tredd and Sonitus were there, however, along with Pelna's eldest niece Ker. Here and there he could see other members of the Glaive that were on leave. Then there were Ariadne and Archyll so close to the fire barrel, it was nearly inappropriate.

Nyx made a face and acted as if he hadn't seen them, a longing tug in his gut. He tried to shake it off. Both of them had made it quite clear when he had joined the Kingsglaive that he wasn't welcome with them any longer.

Straight backed and head held high he stepped into the space the sinehäri had left for him. Right between Istoria and Eriq. The old willowy man stared at him with icy eyes. His remaining hair was carefully braided into a neat braid full of colourful beads, that reached his chest.

Nyx crossed his wrists next to his left hip in greeting deference. He didn't say a word, as it wasn't his place to speak first. The five sinehäri in the circle touched their chests, right over the heart, with the back of their hands in the acknowledgement.

All around them the crowd grew silent.

Istoria was the first to speak, as she was the oldest if the five.

“Welcome to the open fire. May the flames be witness to what is spoken and keep the knowledge until the ashes of the world are washed away.” She spoke the traditional greeting in the oldest tongue they remembered. Then she turned to him. “Be welcome as a guest in our midst, Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric, that you may speak and be heard.”

“May the flames be witness to my words and prove them to be true,” Nyx replied, the old words heavy on his tongue, his accent a heavy drawl.

It didn't happen all too often that one not an elder or a clan head involved in the governing of the Galahkari was invited to speak in a cünaniu.

“We have gathered here today,” Istoria continued in modern Hadnissa, “ to deliberate on the recent development concerning Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric and King Regis of the Lucis Caelum line.”

She used the Lucian word for 'king' since technically Hadnissa didn't have an equivalent word for the title. There were a few that came close, but like all titles in Galahd they had to be earned and the Lucian king most certainly hadn't done that.

“Now tell us in detail what led to the articles this morning and those Lucians crawling all over the place,” commanded Eriq more terse than necessary.

Istoria cast the man a stern glance. Nyx kept his face carefully neutral as all eyes trained on him.

He started his tale with what he could tell of his last mission without going against the King's orders. It was moments like these Nyx hated the careful balancing act he had to practice due to his debt to the man.

The sinehäri kept their silence until his tale ended, even if Eriq and Elenia looked like they dearly wanted to interrupt him more than once. The only thing holding them back was the fact that one wasn't to interrupt a speaking party, if one didn't want to be excluded. After Nyx had finished his recounting, having made it as detailed as he could manage, the silence hung heavily between them for a few heartbeats.

“This is an opportunity we cannot let go to waste.”

All eyes turned towards Leonid. The man was the youngest member of the cünaniu, having reached the appropriate age only three years ago. All other remaining members had been a part of it since before Galahd had fallen.

“What do you propose we do, Sinehär Leonid of the Colophon?” asked Elenia, her voice cold and sharp.

The lower right side of her face looked like the skin had melted and formed into into a misshapen mass. The mark travelled down her throat in sprinkles and vanished under one of the colourful scarves she always wore. Sometimes her right arm twitched without her permission. Those were souvenirs the Nifs had left her with during the initial attack. Since then she was against anything to do with Lucis or Niflheim.

The youngest of the five Elders returned her gaze evenly. “I propose we play into their expectations. Lucis doesn't recognize a country or ethnic group without them having a clear leader to negotiate with. I think we will all agree when I say that's not something we have. We could make Oirkar Ulric our representative, so to speak.”

“So he would be what? Our... king?” Eriq practically spat the Lucian word in front of his feet like it was a curse.

Nyx suppressed a flinch. His fingernails dug painfully into the palms of his hands. He swallowed down the words burning on his tongue and reminded himself not to speak. From where he stood he could see parts of the crowd. It was utterly silent for a crowd this big. He could make out worried faces, angry ones, neutral and confused ones. It was a pretty mixed bag. Ker had moved into the first row of the spectators and grinned at him when she saw him looking.

“I'm saying that, if we were recognized as an autonomous people, we would have rights. Family members of dead Kingsglaives wouldn't lose their homes, we would have the right to open our own schools to educate our children in our ways, just to name a few. Or traditions exist because they saved our lives, now it's time we add to them.”

Elenia stared at Leonid with distaste burning in her eyes. “I won't consent to changing our traditions because Lucis demands it!”

“Traditions have been altered or added to before. Lucians have been the catalyst of that for many times. As a people it is our most sacred duty to remember what others forget. It is a lapse in our duty that it took us so long to realize the true depths of Lucian ignorance.” Here Istoria nodded towards Nyx in reference to his tale about the private audience. “We cannot let ourselves be dragged down into the same pit of forgetfulness. For that we need to teach and to be able to teach, we need the Lucians cooperation while we reside in their city.”

“You want to teach Lucians?” Elenia's scandalized cry caused a wave of silent unrest within the crowd.

“No,” said Istoria decidedly.

Her hard tone took Nyx aback. Eriq snorted and muttered something under his breath Nyx couldn't quite make out.

“You know how difficult it has been to take the children on their First Hunts, Sinehär Elenia of Clan Dala. It will only get even more so as time goes on. Something needs to happen,” intervened Demetri Arra. Until now the man had been silent, listening carefully. “Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric, please tell us your opinion on why exactly the Lucians are convinced of you being of higher blood.”

Nyx didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. Hadn't he already done that at the beginning? Nonetheless he he opened his mouth without complaint and told them again.

“It's my ability as a mage, sinehäri. The Lucians are convinced that independent magic is only possible within two family lines in this world. The Lucis Caelums of Lucis and the Fleurets of Tenebrae. Everybody else showing magic that hasn't been gifted by them, must therefore be either of their blood or a line of higher blood blessed by their Astrals.”

All five Elders around him made various faces of distaste. Elenia's looked like a mask made out of wax due to her scar.

“What do you think they expect from you, Oirkar?” asked Demetri before anybody else could say anything. It was probably better that way.

Nyx had to pause for a second. A sense of anticipation built in the air, he didn't want to ponder. He swallowed dryly and started slowly: “I... I think the King doesn't really know, himself. For him it appears to be mainly about family. Beyond that... This has gone into a direction that cannot be predicted in its entirety. If I had to guess, I would at least be a more specific target than a whole ethnic group.”

“I think we should work with that,” reiterated Leonid into the thoughtful silence.

“I won't accept a king!” bellowed Eriq again.

“We are talking in circles,” stated Istoria in a brisk voice that brooked no argument. “The Oirkar has been put into Lucian focus. We cannot do anything about it - it has happened. What we can do, is use the situation to get what we want. Are we all in agreement about that?”

They all nodded, even if Eriq looked like he had swallowed old seaweed and Elenia like she would rather gut herself. Nyx looked at them, resigned about what he knew was the loss of his relative anonymity. He sighed soundlessly and stepped forward, waiting to be acknowledged. In for the meat, in for the kill.

Istoria looked at him, her expression one of careful consideration. She nodded.

“What about the position of makti-oir?”

Demetri made a sound like he had been punched in the gut. Leonid looked vaguely smug and Istoria had a satisfied tilt to her head. It was like that was what she had wanted to happen all along, thought Nyx.

Damn that woman.

The eyes of Elenia looked like they would fall out of her head and Eriq opened his mouth to say something – not polite, no doubt – before shutting it again with a clicking noise. A thoughtful expression made its way onto his face.

“Sinehär gisdrauht, how many members of Clan Ulric have held that position?” he asked, tugging at his beaded braid. His eyes never left Nyx who was silently cursing himself for suggesting this.

The eldest in this circle smiled. “The first was Nikon of Clan Ulric, daughter of Adrastea of Clan Ulric. She became makti-oir in the conflict that drove off the poachers. After her was Oirkar Perses of Clan Ulric, who became makti-oir the day the black sails first clouded the sky. He was the first of three to hold the position during the War of the Black Ships.”

Nyx unwittingly stood a little bit straighter as the woman listed name after name. He could feel hundreds of eyes resting on him. Those were members of his clan. His. For the first time in a long while he could truly appreciate it. His clan. His history. All those stories that had been carefully preserved and told again and again.

Elenia's gaze was still full of that raging fury he had never seen her without, but now there was also a quiet respect. Hers was not the only one.

Demetri nodded thoughtfully after Istoria had ended her impromptu narration. “Does Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric fulfil the requirements?”

Nyx dearly wanted to say no, but he knew that wasn't an option he had left. His people had left. If this was his chance to make things right, to atone for his failures, then he would gladly dedicate his life and his death to it. His people deserved nothing less. Selena and his mother would have deserved nothing less. All the people he had failed.

It was Istoria who spoke again: “On his First Hunt Nyx, then of no name, was blessed by the Queen of the Jungle, Lady of Beasts, the Great Coeurl herself, and now he strides in her shadow. He fed four Clans during the last winter before the war came and led twelve hunting parties through it once it was there, the second to last group to leave Galahd was the one he helped protect and since coming here he has fought to regain our homes, never leaving anyone behind, living or dead.”

The subject of such praise could barely bring himself to listen. This wasn't something he wanted to hear. It wasn't him. Where were his failures? All the people he hadn't been able to save? Those that had starved during that horrible long winter, those the Nifs had killed while he had been right there and not being able to do anything. And so many more. Those that had drowned because they had fallen off the boats during their escape, those the daemons had gotten on their miserable track across the mainland. The hunger and the sickness. All the comrades he had lost while fighting for a nation that didn't want to appreciate their sacrifices.

Nyx blinked as he noticed that the old woman had stopped talking. What had he missed. Kohna, why had he spaced out?

Eriq huffed in irritation. “Do you accept the position as makti-oir?”

Steeling himself, Nyx gazed into the crowd. A tension covered the whole courtyard like a smothering blanket. The air was stifling and hot. Hadn't there been less people when he had last looked? He couldn't say for certain.

He tried to read their faces. Would these people accept him in this position? Would his fellow hunters follow him and trust in his decisions? A heaviness settled around him he wasn't sure he could bear. His eyes caught Tredd's. The redhead stood near the edge next to Sonitus, his face an unreadable mask. For barely a heartbeat they stared at each other and then an expression flitted across Tredd's face. It was gone so fast that Nyx couldn't say what it had been, but the other man raised his chin, having come to a decision, and nodded.

Nyx turned his attention back towards the five sinehäri who were waiting for his decision with varying expressions of patience.

“I accept,” he said loud and clear.

Within seconds the tension in the air evaporated. The crowd surged, waiting for the cünaniu to end so that they could celebrate. They had come one step closer towards leaving this city and going home. Everybody knew hit.

But it wasn't over.

“What shall we do about the Lucians?” asked Leonid, looking pleased and exhausted. “I have said it before, we need someone to press for our interests. With Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric we have somebody who can do it.”

Elenia looked ready to murder the man. “We will not collaborate with the Lucians! Not after everything they did.”

“We won't collaborate with the Lucians,” Leonid shot back. “Think of it as taking what we're due.”

Elenia huffed but didn't say anything else. Nyx was thankful for it. He had honestly enough of old people arguing. Not that he would ever say that out loud; he didn't want to die that badly.

Demetri sighed tiredly. Even now at age 84 he was nearly a head taller then Nyx. With that and the tattoos and scars he had collected over his life, he cut an formidable figure. He spoke little outside of his duties, but his voice was like a booming bass, loud and imposing. “The Lucians should come to us first, if we do this. We must be prepared for it, but we cannot be the ones to ask for an audience with the Lucian King. It would press us into a weaker position than we already have.”

No one seemed overly happy at his last words. But they were true and everybody in the courtyard knew it.

“Are we all in agreement of this?” asked Istoria looking at her peers.

One after the other nodded. Her gaze settled on Nyx who realized that now that he was makti-oir, his voice had true weight within this circle. He nodded also.

“Then we will leave it here.” She raised her voice so that it echoed loud and clear over the heads of the listening crowd. “Let it be known that after Oizys of Clan Pontos who fell as Niflheim covered our land in death and flames, we name Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric as makti-oir. He has been found capable of this responsibility and has accepted it with the fire bearing witness to his words.

We will enter negotiations with the Lucian crown to fight for our tradition and way of life, as we should have done from the beginning. Let this be a lesson for us to not place our pride over our needs. The Astrals couldn't make us bend. A human king won't manage what the false Gods couldn't do. We won't let him.

May the fires bear witness to our words, to what has been said and done today. In the name of the Wooden Throne that seats only Galahd itself, I close this cünaniu.”

For one eternal second the words seemed to fill every space in the courtyard and beyond. The wandering shadows deepened and a cool breeze that carried the sound of rustling leaves and the crashing of the sea against Galahdian shores. A shiver of anticipation travelled down Nyx' spine.

Something was coming.

The fire cracked and sparks flew high, dancing in the air and brining the smell of home. It sounded like the distant roar of a coeurl.

“The hunts are on!”

The cry thundered through the air and broke the spell. The crowd roared, the sound deafening.

Nyx didn't move, too busy trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Then Ker was there, a huge grin on her face. The girl was barely old enough to remember what her home had been like. She hugged him. The force of it pressed the air out of his lungs and teased an airy laugh out of him.

Her face pressed into his shoulder and her body started to shake. She was crying. Worried, he slung his arms around her muscular form and asked: “What's wrong, buhgil?”

Ker shook her head, hiccuped and looked up at him. Her cheeks were covered in tear tracks and a dusty red. She was still smiling, positively brimming with happiness. Nyx barely understood her over the roar of the celebrating crowd.

“Thank you, Nyx. Thank you.”

#ffxv #born into the wilds #nyx ulric #ulric clan #so much worldbuilding in this one #nyx has no idea what he got himself into #people have no idea what they got themselves into #politics #cultural differences #traditions vs the need to change #my fics #the spirit writes #I should probably tone down the language thing...#oh well

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chyteawrites · 5 years

Text

Torn: Chapter 10

Story Summary: You start work as a make-up artist for The Umbrella Academy and meet two of the most handsome people you’ve ever worked with, both of them vying for your attention.

Chapter Summary: David finally introduces you to his sister over FaceTIme and the next morning, you give him the best wake up call.

Chapter 10/?

Word Count: 1,366

Pairing: David Castañeda x Reader

Warnings: Self-doubt, oral sex (male receiving)

Tags: @superapplepie @diianawonka @spacearttraveler @ynm1505 @stardust181 @loulouloueh @reblogserpent @karlitabi-rrito @wh3n-1t-ra1ns-1t-p0urs @berrygutz @dawnson-hargreeves @bunniegrrl (Tag list is always open!)

A month and a half had passed since I had told David about my ex-fiancé and everything was going great. Rachel and Robbie had become almost inseparable. The four of us had gone on a few double dates. Those nights ended with Rachel walking back to where Robbie was staying while David came home with me. There had been so much teasing on those nights, it was inevitable that by the time the door locked, we’d both be half undressed.

Other nights, like tonight, we would lay in bed. We would talk and just be near each other. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he ran his fingers over my shoulder and through my hair. I let out a moan as his phone rang and he moved to answer it.

“It’s my sister.” David mumbled before answering, his sister’s face filling the screen.

“Hey! How’s it going up there in the cold?” She asked with a smile.

“It’s fucking cold. What’s up?” He asked and smiled. I managed to sneak away without being seen and started to walk away. He grabbed my wrist and looked up at me as she talked, his eyes pleading with me to stay.

“Fine.” I huffed quietly before slipping into my pajama pants.

“Tash, I have someone I want to introduce you to. You remember the woman I told you and Laura about?” He asked, holding my hand as I sat beside him.

“Oh yeah! Do I finally get to see her?!” She gasped and smiled. She had a smile just like his. Warm, inviting, and kind. He turned the phone to face me, his smile wide as his sister looked me over.

“Hi, Natasha.” I greeted her and smiled nervously.

“Please, you can call me Tash. My brother said the woman he was seeing was beautiful, but he didn’t say she was absolutely stunning.” She said with a wide smile.

“O-oh. T-thank you.” I stammered, blushing as I hid my face from them. I heard them laugh and felt David kiss the top of my head.

“She’s so sweet, Tash.” He smiled and rested his head against mine.

“Well, I would hope so. She has to deal with your annoying ass all day.” She chuckled.

“Takes one to know one.” He muttered, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“Hey, you were an ass first. You’re older than me.” She retorted before looking over to me. “How’s he treating you?” She asked and smiled.

“Great. He’s so good to me.” I replied with a smile. I ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as he talked to Natasha. I kissed his cheek before getting up to go get a drink in the kitchen. I walked out and saw Rachel sitting on the couch, curled up in her favorite blanket.

“I thought you were with Robbie?” I said, raising an eyebrow as I put ice in a glass.

“I was. He and I have an early morning, so we wanted to sleep in our own beds.” She explained and smiled sleepily.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell David we need to keep it down.” I chuckled and smiled.

“You know I don’t sleep. Don’t let me keep you two from having a good night.” She told me as she got up and walked to her room. I laughed quietly before walking back to my room, hearing him laugh at something Natasha said. I stood on the other side of the door and listened to them talk to each other in Spanish.

Damn. He could be talking shit about me to his family and I’d never know. I thought to myself and sighed, backing away from the door. Maybe he doesn’t actually me. The thought ran through my mind, my body leaning against the wall and I slid down, sitting on the floor. I felt myself start to drift off to sleep, my head resting in a corner in the hall.

I groaned as I was lifted up and carried to bed, my eyes fluttering open for a moment to see him. I whimpered as he set me down and covered me up before laying down beside me. His lips pressed gently to my temple and he held me close.

“Good night, mi cariña. I love you.” David whispered, so low I barely heard.

“I love you too, handsome.” I mumbled with a sleepy smile and fell back asleep in his arms.

My alarm went off and I woke up with David wrapped me, his face buried in my hair. I mumbled and tapped his arm, getting a soft moan in response.

“Hey. We gotta get up.” I mumbled and wiggled myself out of his arms.

“No. Stay.” David groaned and grabbed my wrist.

“Get up and I’ll make it worth your while.” I whispered playfully.

“Wanna stay here.” He grumbled. I sighed and looked down at him before an idea popped in my head. I wiggled under the covers and gently started working his pants down his hips. I smiled as I finally got his cock free and took him into my mouth, moaning softly.

His tired moans and groans turned into ones filled with pleasure as my head bobbed under the cover. I felt him toss the cover away and his hooded eyes met mine. His hand wrapped into my hair while I took him all the way into my mouth, smiling as he moaned my name.

“Fuck.” He grunted and tugged my hair gently. I flicked my tongue under the head of his cock and stroked him, looking up to see his back arch. He free hand tugged at the sheets and his moans filled the room.

“So good.” I heard him mutter, his body shaking.

“Do it.” I whispered before I started sucking again, his back arching higher.

“Fuck!” David panted before he came in my mouth. I smiled and pulled away, swallowing and grabbing a napkin.

“You awake now?” I chuckled and stood up, looking down at him.

“Mmm. Best wake up ever.” He murmured and smiled.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” I whispered and kissed his cheek. I walked to the bathroom and started brushing my teeth before he grabbed my waist and kissed my neck.

“Where’d you get the idea to wake me up like that?” He cooed in my ear.

“Just popped into my head.” I said after I spit and rinsed.

“So good, mi cariña.” He whispered and kissed my cheek. “But can I ask how in the hell you ended up sleeping in the hall?” He asked and turned me to face him.

“You were talking to Natasha and I didn’t want to bother you guys.” I mumbled.

“She likes you. You wouldn’t have bothered us.” He said with a smile.

“I know. But you guys were speaking Spanish. I barely remember any from high school.” I explained.

“You thought we might have been talking shit about you.” He sighed and kissed my temple. “I can promise you, it was the exact opposite. Anything we said about you in Spanish, it was all good.” He told me, his eyes full of kindness.

“Promise?” I said with a mock pout.

“Promise.” He whispered and kissed me gently. “And I meant when I said that I love you last night.” He added.

“I meant it too, David.” I cooed and kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Mmm. So beautiful.” He mumbled and smiled.

“And you’re so handsome. I’d love to stay here with you, but we have to do our jobs.” I chuckled, pecking his lips.

“Do we have to? Can’t we just stay here and trade trips to the fridge for…” He mumbled before I pressed my finger to his lips.

“We have all day off tomorrow. You make it to tonight and I might wake you up the same I way I did this morning.” I whispered and walked away with a wink. I heard him groan and smirked as I got dressed and put on deodorant.

“Fine. But I get you all to myself tomorrow.” David said with a smile before we walked out the door and headed to set.

#chynna writes #torn #torn chapter 10 #torn: chapter 10 #David Castañeda #david castañeda x reader #david castañeda fanfiction #david castañeda fanfic #david castenada #david castaneda x reader #david castaneda fanfiction #david castaneda fanfic #don't read this at work

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miilesgmorales · 5 years

Text

Abilities far beyond the ordinary (2/7)

A/N: Again, I don’t really know what I’m doing or what this is, but I gotta say I actually liked writing this a lot and am not too mad about how it turned out (maybe because Diego is my favorite and I relate to him the most. just maybe.)! I hope whoever reads this enjoys it, some feedback would be greatly appreciated. Idk if I should add like word count and warnings and such? This one’s around 2.5k, not much to warn about honestly, maybe a swearword or two if anyone’s bothered by that. Also probably worth mentioning that English isn’t my native language, so please just blame any mistakes you find on that. Now, without further ado:

Diego

Extraordinary. Super powers. What a load of bullshit.

Okay, yeah, maybe Luther had kicked his ass for the third time this week. But that didn’t mean he was ‘super strong’ like he claimed to be. It didn’t prove shit. It just meant Diego had to do better next time. Next time, he’d be prepared. Next time, he’d come out on top.

“Number Two!” Diego flinched at the sound of his name. It wasn’t even a name, not exactly a title either. Just an old man’s stupid ranking. What kind of father ranked his children? All it ever meant to Diego was “second best”, and he hated it. “Yes, father?” he sighed. “I will schedule an additional training session for you. Be prepared in an hour,” Hargreeves ordered. “But dad, we just got done with training. My knee feels like it’s not in the right place, I’m pretty sure Luther almost broke my arm, and my head feels funny. Do I really ha-“, Diego started to complain, but was interrupted by his adoptive father. “Stop whining, Number Two, it is unacceptable. If you want to be a member of the Umbrella Academy, you will neither complain about nor object to anything I order you to do. Understood?” Diego nodded slowly. “Use your words, boy,” Hargreeves commanded. “Yes, u-understood,” Diego murmured. He remained standing in the middle of the hallway until Reginald Hagreeves disappeared behind his office doors, then he turned around and marched down the stairs.

Okay, this was it. He needed to figure it out. Today. No matter what. Everyone else was already there, Diego didn’t want to be left behind. Luther with his stupid strength that Diego didn’t know how to compete against. Allison had her rumor thing, that was freaky; the thought that his sister could shape the entire world to her own liking? Somewhere deep down, Diego was wondering if he’d have a place in his sister’s perfect world or if she would choose just Luther over the rest of them. Klaus’ power, well, that was downright scary. He wasn’t sure how it worked, which made it even more terrifying, it wasn’t really tangible. Five, of course, thought he had the coolest power. Sure, it was neat, but from what he had seen, it wasn’t all that reliable. Diego had watched Five’s power fail him quite a few times, that had to be frustrating. Diego would rather walk places than knowing he should be able to teleport there, and then it just didn’t work. Never in his life had Diego been more thankful for Ben to exist. Ben hadn’t come any further than he had, he was just as clueless. He was trained in hand-to-hand combat much like Diego himself, although Sir Reginald hardly ever paired Ben with Luther. Why couldn’t Diego get to fight Klaus every now and then? It wasn’t fair. However, as far as Diego knew, Ben wasn’t all that special. Not yet. So, if Diego just hurried up and figured it out today, he wouldn’t be the last one. Granted, even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t truly be the last one. There was always Vanya. Things were weird with her. Diego knew that their father had taken her aside a few times last year, and he had been under the impression it had been to figure out her power. But it had turned out Vanya was the black sheep of the family. Ordinary. Nothing special. Something Diego would not be if it was up to him. He just had to have abilities, right? It couldn’t be two out of seven, that’d be too much bad luck, even for him.

Something Diego had always been fond of, was super speed. If Luther was super strong, why couldn’t he be super fast? There was some logic to that, right? Yeah right, the Hargreeves and their very logical super powers. Diego scoffed. He checked Allison’s room first. It was empty. Good. She and Luther were probably up in the attic. Five wasn’t home, Diego knew that much. Ever since he had found his damn abilities, he was using them constantly, never staying anywhere for too long, constantly on the move. How Diego wished he could just leave this place with a snap of his fingers or whatever it was Five did. Diego shook his head. This wasn’t about Five. Next up, Klaus. Where was he? Usually, if Klaus was in his room, Diego would hear some kind of noise - laughter, his brother jumping around. But the house was silent. Most likely, Klaus and Ben were off somewhere together doing god knows what. Diego just hoped Ben would keep Klaus out of trouble. The only one Diego had to get rid of was Vanya, who was currently playing the violin in her room. She didn’t seem to hear Diego knocking on her door, so he slowly opened it, peeking inside. His sister stood with her back to him, eyes closed, swaying slightly back and forth, clearly lost in the music. For a minute, Diego was fascinated. He just listened. To be honest, it was beautiful. How Vanya seemed to be one with the violin. How the music changed from sweet and soft to strong and powerful. He had to admit, his sister was really good at what she did. Not that he’d ever tell her. Sometimes he wanted to, felt bad about not spending as much time with her. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. Dad kept them busy most of the day, and Vanya didn’t train with them. Diego also felt like, in his father’s eyes, talking to Vanya, the ordinary one, was something that was frowned upon. And if there was one thing Diego tried to gain, it was his father’s respect and acceptance. He couldn’t jeopardize that. He stepped forward and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Hey, Vanya? Vanya’s eyes flew open, she shrieked and spun around. “Jesus! Diego! You scared the shit out of me!” “Don’t let Dad or Pogo hear that,” he laughed and added a mocking “Language, Miss Vanya!” A genuine smile appeared on his sister’s face, something Diego hadn’t seen in too long as he realized. “Sorry to interrupt, but mom needs your help with something. In the kitchen.” “Mom needs my help? Now? Twenty minutes ago, she told me I could go practice.” “It’s what she said. Better go downstairs, see what she wants.” God, Diego hoped Mom wouldn’t bust him. But she would find something for Vanya to do. She’d know Diego had his own reasons for sending his sister downstairs. She’d keep her busy. “Fine.” With a small sigh, Vanya set down the violin. “Thanks, Diego.” Diego nodded, then opened the door, letting his sister pass through first, then followed her out of the room. Done. He was alone now. Just perfect for what he had to do.

Diego climbed up the stairs. When he reached the landing on the third floor, he inhaled deeply. If super speed was his power – and at this point, Diego was desperate enough to believe it was – this had to be how it worked. All he had to do, was to run fast enough, then his power would take over and he’d be practically flying, right? It made sense to him. Enough at least to give it a shot. Diego closed his eyes for two seconds to focus, then he bolted down the stairs faster than he ever had. He very quickly noticed two things. One, it wasn’t fast enough. There was nothing super about his speed. Shit. Two, he had somehow forgotten about the slight turn the stairs took between the second and the first floor. With full force he crashed into the wall on the first floor, and tumbled down the last flight of stairs until he came to a stop on the ground floor. Groaning, he reached for the railing and pulled himself up, just to sink down on the first step, burying his face in his hands.

He heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Diego jerked around, ready to defend himself, to explain to his father that he was just trying to figure it out, to be better – until he realized it wasn’t Sir Reginald towering over him.

“Diego, dear, what’s wrong?” “M-mom? What if…what if I’m not special? What if I’m ordinary? I- I’ll never be enough for him!” “If you weren’t special, you wouldn’t be here with us.” “Vanya’s here.” “Now, now. Don’t be mean to your sister, Diego. She’s figuring it out just like you are.” “But dad…he…he looks at her different. And why doesn’t she train with us? What…w-what if he won’t let me train anymore if I’m not s-special? How am I supposed to go on missions?” “Diego, dear, listen to me. You can do anything you put your mind to. Train hard, and you’ll be extraordinary, you’ll see.”

‘Train hard.’ Easier said than done. He was training hard, wasn’t he? How much more was he supposed to do? How much more could he do, realistically, without there being lasting damages? He wouldn’t be much help for the Umbrella Academy with a fucking limp.

Just like he always did when he was upset – which happened more often than he liked to admit – he went to his room, crouched down in front of his bed and reached underneath it. His fingertips brushed against soft yet worn out material. There. Just a few inches more and he had it. With a sigh, he flopped down onto his stomach to crawl further under the bed. Bingo. He wiggled a bit, pushed his body backwards, and finally got up, triumphally holding an old tennis ball in his right hand. He needed it, always played around with it when he was upset, anxious, or just needed to think. The ball clutched in his fist, Diego made his way outside, carefully checking his surroundings for his father. The old man was nowhere to be seen. Good. Diego let the tennis ball slide through his fingers, from one hand to the other. He needed to focus, keep his hands busy so he could clear his mind. Except, today, it wasn’t working all that well. He was just so frustrated and upset. Stupid powers. Stupid training. Stupid Academy. What were they even doing? They were just kids. Angrily, he threw the tennis ball up in the air, catching it with ease, throwing it a little higher the next time, and a lot higher the time after that. Every time it came down, he caught it with a little more strength behind it, until he was damn near punching the ball. Diego continued his game for a while, not even paying attention to his movements or the ball anymore, instead, he was lost in his thoughts. Extra training. Bullshit. As if he needed it. He was the best out of all of them, not Luther. His brother just had an unfair advantage with his super strength. But father wouldn’t hear of it. His precious Number One. Number One, Number Two. God how much he hated it. Who was the old bastard to say Diego wasn’t good enough to be Number One? Who was he to place him second best over and over again? With a sudden furious outburst, he threw the ball as hard as he could, putting all his pent-up rage into it. What happened next was by far the strangest thing Diego had ever seen in his life – which meant quite something, considering the circumstances of his upbringing. Time seemed to stand still. The old tennis ball started to move forward, much like Diego had intended. But then, as if pulled back by an invisible force, it turned, missed Diego’s right ear by less than an inch, and was launched all the way back across the yard. It went right through one of the mansion’s windows. Glass shattered. Shit. This wasn’t just any window. It was his father’s office. Diego probably would’ve made a run for it before his father had a chance to see him, but he couldn’t move. He was still staring at the spot where the ball had turned by itself. Slowly he turned around and took careful steps towards the house. What if the ball came back? To attack him? Was there something or someone else here? Something he couldn’t see?

“NUMBER TWO!” Reginald Hargreeves’ voice cut through the silence like a knife. Diego jerked and snapped out of his observation. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “Are you out of your mind, Number Two? What are you doing outside? Did I not tell you to get ready for your extra training? Do you have any idea what you just did?” Truth be told, no, Diego really had no clue. But at his father’s words, he had scales fall from his eyes. ‘Do you have any idea what you just did?’ What you just did. You. “I knew it,” he whispered to himself.

Later that day, after lunch, when most of the others had scattered to probably get some time to themselves or do something fun before the evening lessons began, Diego remained at the table lost in thought.

“What’s got you brooding like a champ today?” Klaus quipped from beside him. “I’m not brooding, asshole, I’m thinking.” “Oh wow, really? Are you feeling okay? Should I tell mom?” “Shut up. Maybe if you weren’t being such a jackass, I’d tell you.” “Tell me what?” “What my powers are!” “Oh wow, Diego, you found it? Well, what is it, do tell?” “It’ll be cooler if I show you!”

This was it. The moment of truth. Diego had practiced a little bit before lunch, testing out his newfound abilities. He had thrown a bunch of things around in his room, even with his eyes closed they had gone exactly where he wanted them to, whether he had aimed at his target or not. He was pretty confident this was going to work.

“Okay, so I’m gonna throw this at you.” “Excuse me?” Instead of his tennis ball, as Klaus had expected, Diego had picked up one of the kitchen knives. “No, no, no, no, hang on. You’re not throwing a damn knife at me, are you crazy?” “I won’t hurt you, it’ll go exactly where I want it to, trust me.” “Well, how do I know where you want it to go isn’t my eye? Or my lungs? Or my heart?” “Quit being so dramatic, Klaus. Just trust me on this, okay? Go stand behind the door.” “How are you-“ “I told you, it’s my power. You’ll see.”

Reluctantly, Klaus did as he was told. Diego took four steps back and closed his eyes. One deep breath. Go time. With a slight buzzing noise, the knife glided through the air. Diego could feel a gentle breath of air on his face. Then the noise. He knew the knife had found its target. Klaus shrieked. Diego let out a laugh. “Oh wow, Diego. That’s…” Klaus stared at the knife that hat struck right between his outstretched fingers in awe. “Cool, huh?” Diego exclaimed with a satisfied grin.

Maybe super powers weren’t so bad after all.

tags: @diego2hargreeves @gayouijaboard (you didn’t ask to be tagged, I know, but I’m just kinda forcing this on you, sorry not sorry) @errmynee @goldennparker @missingyoucth

#the umbrella academy #a thing #my dumbass brain #diego hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #grace hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #sir reginald hargreeves

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clownsgobeepbeep · 5 years

Note

“How unfortunate. You got blood on my new tie.”

Mafia AU in which we, well, some of yours, meet some kiddos!~

“Why did you have to insist that I come along?”

Stellar sat by his sister Coraline on top of towels that were neatly placed and held down on the sand in the beach they were both in, as well as some others.

“Because you desperately need to get out more.”

“How come you didn’t force Roger to come?”

“I tried, but he was too stubborn so I let him go just this once. The stars know what he’s doing.” Coraline took a sip from her lemonade before setting it down to adjust her sunhat. “I suggested he allow me to bring the twins as well, but he said he’d rather take them to a new bakery or something.”

“There hasn’t been any new bakeries.”Stellar turned to his sister who gave a shrug, not really caring about the matter. Honestly, Stellar didn’t are as well, he understood that their brother was pretty damn weird,

“Children!” Coraline called out to her kids who were splashing around in the waves before stopping to look at her. “Don’t go too far in.”

The children replied to her before going back to their running and swimming, Coraline giving a small smile as she turned to her brother.

“So when exactly are we going to be leaving?” Stellar turned to her as well, grabbing his change of clothes, looking through his outfit. “I’ve got other things to do.”

“Such as?”

“Casino stuff.”

“Like?”

“Are you writing a book?”

“Many, yes. Some currently in the works.”

Stellar squinted his eyes at his sister which she noticed despite the shades he wore, and he saw how she gave him a smirk. He then turned to the water again as he heard voices talking near their location, and they seemed to be pretty familiar.

“I still don’t understand why you’re afraid of the water.”

“I have my reasons. So don’t expect me to go in with you.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Oh no.” Stellar breathed out, clutching onto his clothes while trying to hide further into the large umbrella covering the siblings from the sun.

“Is it Boggs?” Coraline whispered, turning to look at her kids as she reached into her purse to grab something.

“No, worse.”

“Worse?” she squinted her eyes before standing up to check who it was was walking near their umbrella, and she gave a frown, then directing it to her brother. “Really?”

“Don’t you dare-”

“Is that you Maggie?” Coraline ignored her brother before the pair walking by stopped and turned around at the sound of her voice. “And Mr. Blackwood as well I see.”

“Oh, Ms. D’Vitt.” Vespers replied in surprise, deciding to approach Coraline. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Same goes for you two.”Coraline nodded as the pair now stood in front of her. “Could you come out and say hello to the others?”

“Who are you talking to?” Maggie tilted her head, then turning to the side as a loud wave sounded resulting in a burst of laughter to ensue. Right then she spotted four kids, one absolutely soaked as the others laughed before comforting that child. They looked rather familiar, especially the blonde one.

Well, to my brother of course.”Coraline slyly smiled as a groan was heard from behind her, and Maggie as well as Vespers saw that Stellar crawled from out of under the umbrella before standing next to his sister.

Vespers’ smile soon disappeared at the sight of Stellar, especially since he was shirtless and...

“Close your mouth and stop drooling Vespers.”Maggie loudly whispered to Vespers who snapped out of it, turning to her with a glare as she nudged him.

“He wouldn’t be the first to gawk at Stellar in such a way.”Coraline turned to her brother who shot a glare at her. “Just as I doubt it’s the first time he’s gawked at Mr. Blackwood in such a way.”

“Coraline, I swear-”

“Wouldn’t you two care to join us?”Coraline ignored Stellar yet again. “We were just about to have lunch. We even have cannolis.”

“Oh, we’d rather-” Vespers started before Maggie stepped in front of him.

“Don’t mind if I do.” she grabbed walked by him and Vespers before Coraline followed after her, leaving the two men standing alone.

An awkward silence then ensued.

“So.”Vespers calmly started. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

“I was forced to come here, so what do you expect?”

“Well-”

“Children!” Coraline’s voice interrupted the two, both feeling relieved as they weren’t exactly forced to talk to each other any further. “Lunch time.”

Everybody looked towards the water as four children now shook their bodies, most likely trying to get rid of all the sand and water on them. While they came by, Stellar walked back to the umbrella and reached down to grab his clothes in a rush, though that caused him to drop a glass bottle that opened upon having contact with the ground. To Stellar’s dismay, its crimson contents spilled onto his clothes.

“How unfortunate.” Coraline picked up the bottle, closing it while Stellar looked at his clothes in disbelief.

“You got blood on my new tie! Mom bought that for me!”

“You spilled my pups’ afternoon snack. Now one of them won’t get to have any.”

“Wait, wait.” Vespers held a hand up, concerned about the now ruined tie but even more concerned at something that was mentioned. “Did you say blood?”

“Yeah , she sometimes carries around blood.” Stellar rolled his eyes before glancing at his tie, giving yet another groan.

“Blood? Why do you carry bottles of blood?” Maggie asked after having finished two cannolis, Coraline taking away the box so that no more would be eaten before the children arrived.

“For my pet sharks.”

“Excuse me, what?” Maggie’s eyes widened while Vespers’ full attention was now on Coraline.

“Pet, sharks?”

“We’re here mother.” a girl’s voice announced before everybody turned, seeing the four children from before which brought a smile onto Coraline’s features.

“Hello Lily, boys. Sit next to mommy.” Coraline motioned to the empty space next to her where it was expected for the kids to sit on, but to Maggie and Vespers’ surprise, they all attempted to sit behind Coraline. “What’s wrong?”

The girl leaned close to Coraline’s ear to whisper while the boys peeked at the new pair from behind Lily and each other.

“Oh darling, there really is nothing to worry about. They won’t hurt you.” Coraline reassured the child before placing a kiss on her hand. “Mommy will always keep you safe.”

Maggie saw as the girl turned to look at her with green eyes identical to her mother’s, but they held more innocence and shyness. So, Maggie gave a small wave at the girl who turned to whisper to the boys before eyeing her mother again.

“Maggie, Vespers. These are my children.” Coraline presented as they all sat next to her, trying to stay as close as possible to each other. “In order, Liliosa, Robyn, Rayden, and Dante.”

“Nice to meet you.” Maggie gave the kids a nice smile before Vespers slightly nodded, keeping his focus away from Stellar who was now behind the kids.

“Uh, hi.”

The twins of the group gave small waves before snuggling close to the others.

“Children, do eat up. You’ve been playing in the water all day.” Coraline then offered them some cannolis which brought smiles to all of their faces, even Maggie as she attempted to grab another. The box was snatched away by Stellar however, right before he grabbed a cannoli and took a bite out of it, keeping the box near him while Maggie gave him a glare.

“Mother, were you talking about the sharks before we came?” Lily asked before taking a bite of her cannoli.

“Yes darling.”

“Are we gonna go feed them?” Dante turned to Coraline, obviously excited.

“Well, we were. But we must go back home for another bottle of juice for them.” Coraline eyed Stellar who was too busy eating a cannoli. “Your uncle here wasted nearly an entire bottle.

“Coraline. I can call you that, yes?” Vespers called the woman who turned to him as the kids now gave Vespers plain expressions. “What kind of sharks are these? Where do you have them? How did you tame them?”

“Perhaps you two and Maggie would like to come and watch us feed them.” Coraline suggested with a shrug as the children turned to her in shock, not wanting this. At the same time, Maggie snapped around to give Coraline a terrified look.

“No, no, no. You can tell us about them, but nooo visiting the sharks.” Maggie shook her head before Vespers gave a scoff.

“Maggie, please-”

“I think Maggie’s right, only you guys should go and visit. Leave them alone, let them go their own ways.” Stellar butt into the conversation as he was now munching on a sandwich. “In fact-”

“They’re tiger sharks.”Coraline looked at Vespers. “They’ll eventually be found at the old aquarium which I purchased some time ago, as well as other shark breeds.”

“Fascinating.” Vespers nodded before he saw the children whispering to each other, Stellar attempting to listen in on their conversation which prompted them to keep quiet.

“Since people adore dumping their filthy trash in my waters, we give the sharks something much tastier to snack on. Sharks don’t enjoy the taste of humans.” Coraline glanced at Maggie who was actually listening in. “But these crave every drop of blood they smell, making sure to savor every piece of flesh they’re fed.”

“Like Robyn?” Rayden pointed to his twin with a giggle, receiving a smack on the arm from Robyn who had just finished eating his third sandwich. “Mom!”

“Boys.”Coraline looked at the twins who quieted down.

“We’re sorry.”they apologized before going back to doing their own thing, watching Lily grab two sandwiches. She then stood up, walking over to the area in front of Coraline where Vespers and Maggie sat.

Lily plopped down right next to Vespers, offering him a sandwich. He stared at her and the sandwich for a moment, eventually taking it from her with a quiet ‘thank you’. Vespers stared at it just a bit more and then at Lily again, noticing that as she bit into a sandwich she watched him, obviously expecting him to eat. So, Vespers took a bite out of the sandwich.

“Are you Mr. Blackwood?” Lily whispered to him.

“Yes, my name is Vespers.” he nodded before taking another bite of the sandwich which was honestly delicious, maybe Coraline had some personal chef making these.

“So, you’re the one who’s gonna marry uncle Stellar, right?”

3 notes · View notes

thegreatestofheck · 5 years

Text

Two by Two ♞ Diego Hargreeves

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Original Character

Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved her years ago and she finally meets Diego in her bar. They bond over having the same name/nickname.

Warnings: description of torture, lots of talks about scars, physical assault (battery, nothing sexual), there’s a little bit of steamy (?) kissing at the end but it’s mostly fluff.

Word Count: 4352

Author’s Note: This is just a little drabble that I felt like making. Idk, she was meant to be more badass, but it’s okay that she’s not. Not everyone can be strong all the time. If there are any warnings I missed that you think I should add, please let me know and I will be sure to add them. Enjoy!

Diego Hargreeves walked into The Wilting Fleur, a scowl on his face. He plopped himself at the bar and waved over one of the bartenders. A young woman about his age walked over with a smile. She was olive skinned, with dark hair tied up into a bun. Her eyes were a deep brown and betrayed the lie behind her smile. She a long sleeved, high colored red shirt. Diego thought that was strange for how warm it was, even at this time of night. Still, he couldn’t talk. He wore something similar.

“What can I get you?” She asked him. He hadn’t actually decided yet.

“Can I have a water?”

“That all?”

“For now.”

“One water, coming right up,” she said with a smile. He watched her as she poured his water and brought it back to him. “You just let me know when you want something else.”

“Hey, Tess!” Someone in the kitchen called. She smiled at Diego and walked into the kitchen. Diego scowled at his water. Ever since Diego and his siblings saved the world from the apocalypse, he thought that things might be easier. Somehow he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to go around saving as many people’s lives. At least, he wished that they would be more grateful.

The bartender, Tess, came back around to talk to another customer. A man came in, wearing a black suit and a tie. Diego tensed, always wary of men in suits. They usually meant trouble.

“Are you Two?” He asked.

“Yes,” Diego grumbled.

“That’s me,” Tess the bartender said with a smile. Diego looked up, eyebrows pinched in confusion. She looked over at Diego and shrugged.

“I’m here to collect payment,” the man said. Diego’s fists curled. Men in suits asking for money, especially in bars, was never a good sign. He expected Tess’s smile to fall, for her to protest, but all she did was pull out an envelope and give it to the man. He took the envelope, counted what was inside it, and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said and left.

“Have a nice day!” Tess called after him.

Diego looked back at his water. Maybe he was getting paranoid. Not everyone was a bad guy. Maybe he was turning out like Dad.

“I thought it might be you,” Tess said. Diego looked up and she was standing to the right of him, wiping the counter down. “You’re Diego Hargreeves.”

“That’s me.”

Tessa smiled again, but this was a real smile, not one of the usual “I’m working customer service so I have to smile at everyone so I can get tips” smile. She actually looked happy to see him.

“My name’s Tessa. You probably don’t remember me, but when I was 13 you and your family saved my life. And my mom’s.” When it was clear to her that he didn’t remember, she elaborated. “There was this guy, kidnapping mothers and their daughters and killing them. My mom and I were just out shopping when he nabbed us. You were the one who found me first, saved my life. I never got to thank you. So, thank you.”

Diego wasn’t sure what to say. He sort of remembered the mission, but it was one of those ones he tried hard to forget. It wasn’t pretty. He almost smiled, however, knowing that all those terrible things that Dad made them do at least helped someone.

“I was just doing my job,” he said, not looking at her.

“Well, anything you want, it’s on me.”

“I couldn’t-”

“Look, Mr. Hargreeves, I don’t take people saving my life lightly. You want anything, you just tell me.”

She turned to walk away.

“Can I ask when you’re getting off?”

She looked back at him again with another one of her real smiles. She looked down at her shoes then back at him.

“My shift doesn’t end until closing, but I can take my break in 10?”

“So they call you Two, huh?”

Tessa shrugged. She took a sip of her coffee.

“My dad gave all of his kids nicknames like that. Leah, the youngest, was Little. Sam was Sparks. My older sister, Steph, she was Queenie. I was the second oldest, so I became Two,” Tessa said. She shrugged again. “It was just a family thing.”

“Yeah, my dad did something similar,” Diego said. “You read my sister’s book?”

“I was going to. I wanted to know about the people who saved me, but I couldn’t do it. It felt too personal, like I was invading your life. That wasn’t my place,” she said. “It sounds stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid.” Neither of them talked for a few seconds. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you. I’m not sure I still do.”

“I never expected you to. You guys helped so many people.”

“Would you refresh my memory?” Tessa looked at her coffee cup. She ran one of her hands up her arm, pulling up the base of her sleeve, just barely. Diego caught sight of a thin, white line. He had seen enough of those on himself to know it was a scar. “Of course, you don’t have to.”

Tessa shook her head. She closed her eyes and began talking.

“His name was Carter Worth. We didn’t know him before he took us. He waited for us to leave the store, crept up behind me a threatened me with a knife, said he would kill me if my mother and I didn’t get in his car. He blindfolded us, took us to a shack in the woods with a basement. He held us there for days. He would…” She massaged her collarbone. “He would cut us. Take turns, going back and forth. We were there for three days, maybe, I don’t know, before you showed up. Doctor’s said I wouldn’t have lasted the rest of the day if you hadn’t shown up.”

Diego was just staring at her when she finished. She looked at him and his mouth hung partially open. She found herself laughing.

“I can’t believe I forgot that,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m glad you forgot. I wish I could.”

“Look, if there’s anything I can do to help you…”

“You have already done so much. You gave me my life back.” Tessa looked at her watch and sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hargreeves, but it looks like my break is over. I have to go back to work.”

“Call me Diego,” he said, cringing at the sound of his father’s last name. “It was nice to meet you, again, Tessa.”

“Just call me Two,” Tessa said as she stood. “All my friends do.”

Diego watched her walk back to the bar, her real smile staying on her face as she started tot talk to the next guy at the bar. Diego stood, dropped some cash on the table, and started for the door. Just before he pushed the door open, he looked back at her one last time. She caught his eye and smiled again. He offered her a single wave of his hand before he left the bar.

Tessa breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She couldn’t help smiling. She had waited for 16 years to meet and thank the people who had saved her life. She remembered the pain like it was yesterday. She remembered it every night as she went to sleep, however, she also remembered the boy who had broken into the basement she was being held in. She remembered his mask, how with nothing more than a flick of his wrist, Carter Worth died. She was crying. He came over to her, took off his mask, told her it was going to be okay.

The rest of the night was good, even with the drunk men who hit on her and the painful memories that passed through her head just by looking at a butter knife. She slept easy that night, for the first time in a while.

It wasn’t rare to see Diego hanging around The Wilting Fleur after that. Tessa spent her breaks talking to him. When she confessed to him that she had been taking self defense lessons ever since she was kidnapped, he offered to help her get stronger when they were both off of work. She wasn’t too great at push-ups, and they would often end up laughing at her complete inability to do so.

She helped him mop sometimes. She thought it was fun, especially if they turned up the music. She could take off her shoes and skate around on their newly mopped floor. The first time she did so, it took a little bit of convincing to get Diego to take his shoes off too and join her. It was only when he did so that Tessa learned that Diego didn’t wear all black.

“What?” He asked when she paused, trying to hide her laughter. He looked down at his feet and groaned.

“I really love the socks, Hargreeves. Neon yellow is a good look on you.”

He ran at her, forgetting about the slippery ground they were standing on. Tessa turned to run, but she slipped, reaching out to him as she fell. Tessa pulled Diego down with her. Diego was going to ask if she was okay when she started laughing uncontrollably. Her laughter always made him laugh. That was the first time he wanted to kiss her.

When Diego had rough nights on the streets, he would show up at her place and she would let him in, make him a cup of coffee, listen to his day. When he fought with his siblings, she gave him shelter, a place to lay low for a while. When she had nightmares or panic attacks, he would talk to her, just talk, and it was enough to calm her down. He never asked her why she only wore long-sleeved shirts and long pants, and she never told him.

They protected each other from the demons that haunted them, from the monsters that hid under their beds. And it was good for both of them.

The bar was relatively empty at 10 o’clock that night. It wasn’t usual, but it was a Thursday so Tessa wasn’t surprised. Diego had stopped by, but there was an emergency out on the streets. She loved the way Diego’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open when he heard the radio call. He would always try to say he was sorry, but she knew what he did was important. Still, being around him left a lingering smile on her face.

“Damn, I wish I could make you smile like that,” one of her customers said. She looked up, cringing slightly at him. She forced a smile and gave another patron a beer. “What, he gets a whole conversation but I don’t even get a real smile.”

“He’s a friend,” was all Tessa said. She knew it wasn’t smart for her to interact with most male patrons, especially when they’re drunk or even slightly tipsy. It wasn’t safe for her.

“I can be a friend,” he said, chewing on the end of a straw. Tessa laughed uncomfortably. She turned back to the kitchen to grab a plate the cook set out for the male customer. He caught her eye.

“You okay?” He whispered, cutting something. She tried to smile and nodded.

“Nothing unusual,” she said. He hummed, not really believing her. She wasn’t really okay. He didn’t really look like Carter Worth, but there was a mole on his jaw that was far too similar to the one Worth had and it was enough to make Tessa shake. She put his plate in front of him. As she turned, he grabbed her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that came from her mouth.

“What’s your name?” He asked her. The fear that ran through her made Tessa feel weak. She hated feeling weak. She thought of Diego; what would he do? What would he say?

“Get your hand the hell off me,” she said, her voice low as not to disturb the man a few stools down.

“Or what?” The man asked, a laugh in his voice. Tessa grabbed his hand with hers, jamming her thumb into the fleshy part between his thumb and pointer finger. Pain crossed the man’s face and the shock was enough to loosen his grip of her wrist, so she snatched it away.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” she said, glaring at him.

“I never got your name.” The bastard still had the audacity to smile at her.

“Get out of my bar before I drag you out by your 3-inch dick,” she snapped. The other male patron snorted, coughing up some of his whiskey. The man in front of her stood up, shoving a few fries unceremoniously into his mouth. He flicked the plate up, the food her ordered going everywhere. Tessa jumped, rubbing her wrist. She jumped again when he slammed the door behind him. She shook her head and collected herself, She grabbed a rag and started to sweep the discarded food into a trashcan.

The other patron walked over to her. He right the plate and collected the fork and knife that were strewn across the counter.

“Thank you,” she said weakly. He dipped his head.

“Here,” he handed her a wad of cash. Tessa knew by looking at it that it was more than his once glass of whiskey cost.

“You don’t have to-”

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way. Maybe this’ll help you buy a taser to protect yourself from guys like him.” He set the money on the counter and turned to leave. Tessa tucked the money into her apron and finished cleaning. She closed her eyes as she passed the plate, fork, and knife back to the cook. She could feel the knife in her hand, the weight of the handle. She felt ashamed of the way her fear controlled her. She thought she had been doing better since meeting Diego.

“The knife isn’t the weapon,” he told her once. “The humans are the dangerous ones. A knife can’t hurt you without a human holding it.”

It was helping her. She could touch butter knives without wanting to cry, but when something like this happened, she felt like the 13-year-old girl again, weak, helpless, pathetic.

“Go home, Two,” the cook said. “We can close up.”

“We don’t close for another hour.”

“No one’s here. Just go home.”

“Thank you, Danny. Goodnight.”

“Night, Two. Be careful out there.”

The air was cold against Tessa’s face. For once, she was grateful for her long sleeves and her long pants. She welcomed the cold. It bit at her skin enough to distract her from thinking about the man, how he grabbed her, the mole on his face. Tessa’s apartment wasn’t very far from The Wilting Fleur. She never had problems walking home. Until tonight.

Tessa walked by a dumpster and the man from before jumped out behind her and wrapped an arm around her neck, clapping his hand over her mouth. It didn’t stop her from screaming. Tessa elbowed him in the gut and he loosened his grip on her. She tried to run, but he grabbed her by the shirt. Her shirt tore as she tried to run, revealing her shoulder. He didn’t keep his hold on her, but she lost her balance and stumbled. She cried out as she hit the ground with a thud.

He grabbed her shoulders and lifted her off the ground. He pushed her against the wall. He hit her face once, trying to get her to stop struggling. Stars swam in her vision. She tried to kick him off of her, but his grip on her was too tight. She was ashamed of the tears that squeezed out of her eyes.

“Go ahead and cry,” he seethed. “No one’s going to help you.”

Tessa couldn’t deny she was praying that Diego would show up and save her like he did before. But maybe she had to save herself this time.

She spat in her offender’s eyes. He recoiled, giving her space to push him away with her feet. She dug her teeth into his arm and he let her go with a cry. As soon as she was free from his grip, she started running toward her apartment. This guy must have been some kind of athlete because he composed himself and caught up to her before she could even get around the corner. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up by the waist.

She was almost more frustrated by this guy than afraid anymore. Only she was forgetting what Diego had taught her about this. She couldn’t think clearly. Her first coherent thought was that she was going to die.

But she didn’t.

All of a sudden, he let her go. She fell to the ground. Tessa scrambled to her feet and ran a few feet, not caring for the first few seconds why he had let her go. When she heard him grunting, she turned back around. She saw a black mass pummeling the guy into the ground. She knew who the black mass was before she even saw his face. That was her black mass.

“What the hell man?” The guy yelled.

“What the hell?” Diego yelled back, kicking him once in the ribs. “The hell is you’re beating up my friend, my girl, and you think I’m going to let you get away with it?”

“Diego, that’s enough,” Tessa said, holding her sore arm. It was like he didn’t even hear her. He grabbed the guy by his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

“You don’t go near her ever again. You don’t look at her ever again. You don’t step foot near her place. Do you got me?”

The man nodded, fear in his eyes. Diego hit him again in the face again and again and again.

“Diego! Stop!”

He did. The man fell to the ground, breathing heavily but not moving. Diego crouched down to talk to him.

“If she wasn’t here, you’d be dead,” he seethed. Tessa felt a shiver run up her spine. She didn’t doubt what he said. Diego stood and turned to her.

She took a step back, afraid of the look on his face. There was murder in his eyes. She wondered how many people had died at his hand, that look on his face the last thing they saw before they died.

But half a second later, his face changed into a look somewhere between relief and concern. He ran to her and folded her into his arms. By the time he reached her, she had forgotten the terrifying look on his face. She buried her face in his shirt, barely caring about the knives on his harness that pressed against her.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, putting his gloved hands on her face.

“Yeah, Diego, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” He checked her eyes, touched the ripped fabric of her shoulder.

“I just want to go home.”

“C’mon.”

Tessa sat cross-legged on Diego’s bed, wearing one of his sweaters. It was warm and it smelled like him. He sat in front of her, one of his legs hanging over the bed. He pressed an alcohol wipe against the cut on her forehead. She cringed and sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for?” She asked with half a laugh.

“I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Tessa put a hand on his.

“Diego, look at me.” He met her eyes. “You don’t always have to protect me. It’s not your job.”

“I can’t see you get hurt.”

Tessa sighed, lowering her head.

“Don’t worry about me, Diego. I’ll be fine.”

Diego lifted her chin to meet her eyes.

“I do worry about you, Two.”

Tessa didn’t respond. She took his hand in hers, looking at the bruises on his knuckles. They were there because of her. She didn’t know what came over her, but she brought his knuckles to her lips. His hands were warm. She heard his breath hitch. She had no idea what she was doing.

She looked up at him to apologize. Tessa met Diego’s eyes for a mere second before he leaned down and kissed her. Surprise was the first thing that Tessa felt. Warmth exploded throughout her. The inner cold she felt before disappeared. She pulled him closer to her, trying to soak him in.

His lips left hers, traveling to her jaw. Tessa tilted her head to the side, giving him more room. The trail of warmth his lips left in their wake made her shiver. He slowly slipped his overly large sweater from her shoulder. Diego kissed the nape of her neck, pressing his lips against one of her scars.

Tessa’s eyes shot open. She pushed against Diego’s chest, her heart pounding.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s not you, Diego. It’s me.” She pulled his sweater back over her shoulder. She hated how her nose burned and her eyes filled with water. “It’s the scars. I see them and I remember that I don’t have control of my own body. That, even if he is dead, I still belong to him.”

Diego didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“You don’t belong to him, Two. What that man did to you…” Diego breathed deeply, as if trying to control his anger. “That wasn’t your fault. Hey, Two, that wasn’t your fault.”

Tessa sniffed, flicking her finger across the tip of her nose. Diego grabbed her hand gently and lifted it to his face. He pressed two of her fingers to the scar on his eyebrow.

“I got this one when I was 17. It was just after I left the house. My first lone mission. A guy hit me with a vase.” He moved her hand to a thin white line on his jaw. “That was from falling down the stairs when I was a kid.” Tessa bit her lip and moved her hand to another scar on his neck. “Luther threw something at me. Allison was so mad when I started bleeding, but I just told Luther that if he wasn’t a sissy he would have done more to me than give me a scar.”

He showed her a few of his other scars. She smiled at some of his stories. A guy like him and you would think all of his scars would be from saving families from robbers, but most of them were from mishaps as a kid. When she built up the courage, she finally ran her finger along the long, gnarly scar marring the side of his head.

“It looks like something that would need a long winded explanation, but really, a guy was going after my ex-girlfriend. I tried to defend her and he came at me with a knife. Didn’t really end well for me. Luckily, my ex was a cop so he got arrested.”

“I’m sorry,” she said to him. Diego shook his head with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, Two. I just want you to know, you don’t have to be afraid of your scars. The only thing those scars tell me is that you’re the strongest person I ever met, and my brother is an actual behemoth.”

Tessa laughed. He loved it when she smiled. She grabbed his hand like he did to her and pulled down the collar of his sweater. Across her chest was a puckered scar. She breathed heavily as she put his hand over it.

“This was the first one he did,” she said, not sure if she could look in his eyes. She was shaking. She lifted the sweater just enough to show him the scar on her ribs. “This one hurt the most.”

As he had, she went through the scars all over her body. She could remember each one, how much it hurt, when she got it. There were a few she had from before, from a crashed bike or a rock she dropped on her toe.

Tessa found herself laughing along with Diego. He touched one on her collar bone, one that looked more jagged than the rest, like it had been cut off part way through.

“This was the last one,” she said. “He was carving this one into me when you broke in. There’s one more.”

Diego could tell by the way her voice shook that this last one was something more than the others, something worse.

“You don’t have to show me,” Diego told her. She waved him off. Tessa sat up on her knees. She lifted her sweater again, all the way to her sternum. Right over the bone, a letter was carved into her skin. Just thinking about it made tears run down Tessa’s cheeks. Diego looked up at her.

“It’s a ‘C’. He branded me. The police said he did it to all the girls before he killed them. It meant I wasn’t supposed to live much longer. It’s a good thing you came when you did.”

Diego put one hand on her waist, trying to steady her shaking body. With his other hand, he touched the carved letter.

“I never told anyone. I never showed anyone. I have to change and shower in the dark. I don’t go swimming. I don’t wear dresses. Until I met you, I couldn’t imagine anyone knowing the full extent of what he did to me,” Tessa said. Diego looked up at her. She lowered herself so she was sitting back on the bed.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said. Tessa smiled, looking at her hands. He kissed her cheek, trying to tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Can I stay here?” she asked him.

“Of course.”

Tessa lay down with a sigh. Diego lay behind her. She didn’t realize how tired she was until she closed her eyes. She didn’t fall asleep until Diego draped his arm over her waist.

#diego hargreeves #number two #two by two #the umbrella academy #fanfic #fanfiction #au #diego #original character #maybe ongoing

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just-call-me-johnny-archive · 5 years

Text

Johnny found himself at an all too familiar cliff; that was where he'd spent one too many nights peering over the edge. Years prior he had wondered if what awaited him after the plunge was better than he'd dreamt about that one night. He had learned since then that it wasn't a dream, and he supposed that's what kept him from taking his life as often back then. What was the point when he'd return?

After a few moments of staring out his windshield, Nny exited the car and ballooned an ice umbrella from his fingertips. The magic in his powers had worn off. Much like the magic in being immortal had worn off as well. Not the literal, supernatural magic that made these things possible. He was referring to the feeling of childlike wonder at being able to live forever and sprout snowflake from his hands.

He didn't have anyone in particular who was out to kill him. His only threat was the one he posed to himself. Even then, there wasn't any drive to harm himself- when he had urges he had to remember the people he'd leave behind if he went through with it.

Just three days were hell for survivors.

Really, his life was perfect now. He had family and friends. He had a job and a house that felt like home. He had someone who finally, truly loved him- who would never hurt him or leave him.

So why did he feel so empty?

He continued walking towards the edge of the cliff, untouched by the rain falling from the sky.

Was it because none of the money he made was actually hard-earned? He hacked for a living. This was... stolen. It was basically like using monopoly money to purchase everything and it- it felt fraudulent.

He felt fraudulent. He was a complete fraud.

What did he have? Who was he?

His husband was an artist- one of the best if not the best. He could create things and put them right onto the paper or tablet. His stories were comprehensive and could take someone away from reality. He was a fucking demigod- he had fire powers- he was beautiful. He was a creator- a god- in every sense of the word.

His brother was on his way to becoming a rock star. He got himself a record deal and was probably hard at work on his first album right this moment. He had a great singing voice that Nny could easily listen to for hours and never grow tired of. He had a future full of prosperity and excitement. He'd go on tours with his family and play to crowds of varying sizes.

His sister was a queen- an actual queen- royalty. She was a mother to many. When she wasn't showering everyone else around her with love and affection, she was kicking ass and being a leader of an entire planet. She had ice powers that were graceful and beautiful. Her motions were fluid; she was made to have the gift of ice and snow within her. On top of all that, she was a fucking doctor- and an incredible one at that. He couldn't imagine how many people she had helped in all her years of medical practice.

His son was the chancellor to a galactic alliance. He spent his days hard at work with relations, research, and recovery. He was the reason that so much good had come about since being put in a place of power. He was attempting to correct years of shitty leadership due to his false father.

His niece was the admiral of that same alliance. She was a natural engineer and skilled with a multitude of things. Much like her uncle, she was a jack of trades and could do about anything. Her combat skills were impressive. She was fiercely independent and capable of defending herself and her mates whenever they needed her. She was headstrong and in all ways a Phoenix.

He could go on about any number of his acquaintances and family.

He was surrounded by greatness.

Yet, he was nothing.

He could feel the tickle in the back of his throat. The familiar near-sting in his nose. Nny had exhausted his tears. He was tired of crying all the time- of feeling sorry for himself- of being pathetic.

He glared into the ground until he felt the ice forming under him evaporate. He hadn't even realized his umbrella had already faded away and the rain was pelting his head.

"Lost in my head and I can't leave."

He continued his steady trek over to the edge of the cliff and stared down at the city below. "Watching the rain falling away, away from me."

He wrapped his coat closer to his body slowly and solemnly started to approach the guardrail. "Days grow cold as I grow old. Watching my life through a window."

The man climbed over the protective barrier and sat down on the cold, wet metal. "So I sit, watching the rain. And I can't leave."

Nny lifted a hand to weakly make a flurry shoot from his fingertips, but there wasn't any feeling in it and the black dust faded with the rain. "I want to feel something."

"I want to feel air that I can breathe." Nny looked skyward as he created two more, slightly more powerful gusts of black snow and ice.

He threw his hands down frustrated at being unable to think of something that was his. Something that didn't already exist- something unique. Not stupid wind wisps. "I'm tired of being nothing."

"I'm tired because I don't want to be make believe." He frowned, thinking over his own incompetence. His own failures and shortcomings. His absolute worthlessness.

Did people look up to him? What was it they saw his as? Brave? And strong? He wasn't any of those things. What on Earth did anyone see in him?

He arose from his perch on the guardrail and steps back over it to safety. His thoughts were too blurry at the moment to trust himself on a literal ledge.

"It happened again; I freed myself from words never said."

Those words being that he was special. Or valuable. Or needed. Even if those very things were true and shown to him through other means. He was too deep in his own head at the moment.

"This road with no end and there's no help, ooh."

He stared out at the road behind his car- the one back to people who could easily make him realize his worth and show him how loved he was.

But really love was something different from true worth. He could be told he was adored and loved and cherished, but why?

God, those words echoed through his head since he was subjected to them. The condescending tone. The obvious entitlement in his voice. The confidence in knowing he was right and no one could tell him otherwise.

People are tools, Johnny...

We all use each other in one way or another. Comfort, sex, money, affluence... I just don't see the need to disguise it in words of "love."

He clapped his hands over his ears as if that would have stopped the noises and the thoughts and the chaos inside.

"Lost and lonely...Strangers know me better than I know myself." He caught a glimpse of himself in a puddle. He resented the person looking back at him. So anxious and cowardice. All talk and no action. A hypocrite.

"So I sit, watching the rain and here I'll stay."

"I want to feel something!"

He stomped into the puddle and a patchwork of blue-black ice spread out from under his boot. However, it was frail and shattered. He glared again.

Johnny whipped himself around and continued screaming out. More ice spread out and around him, jagged, uneven red ice sprouting in angry pieces.

"I want to feel air that I can breathe!"

He glared at the pathetic ice spikes, making more form because his emotions were so conflicted and confusing. The entire thing cracked and fell apart underneath him.

He breathed out realizing that he needed to calm just a little bit if he wanted to do this one DAMN THING RIGHT.

But of course, it didn't work.

"I'm tired of being nothing!"

With this, the ice gave a little more and from the spikes form something solid and recognizable and from that, something steadily arose from the broken ice.

"I'm tired because I don't want to be make believe!!!"

Nny lifted his hand skyward- he made this new structure as high as he could handle. Around him the ice formed a solid ground, a patterned base is enough to make him feel just a tiny bit of satisfaction. But it wasn't enough. The thing falls again.

He continued to dance around, his hands worked hard to create something out of all his nothing. If he was his husband or his sister or hell even his daughter, then he would have done a better job creativity wise. He didn't have a single artistic cell in his body. That had been stolen from him.

"All we are is guilty hearts in a sea of memories," he paced and rubbed his shoulders in a mockery of self-comforting.

"Time goes by and people cry, but I don't feel anything."

He was powerless in everything. He wanted to be helpful. To somehow use his powers- his immortality for good. To contribute rather than stay at the sidelines- oblivious to the plight that so many others were subjected to. In a way, he felt almost responsible for any catastrophe. He always felt there was something he could have done different- to help. But no, he was a waste.

He repeated this again and grew more angry and emotional- contrary to his words. Slowly around him, the base started to rise with new structures that were waiting to be built up.

Nny ran to them with his palms up, fingers clenched as if he was physically lifting the ice up and molding it.

"I want to feel something!!!"

He jumped around, shooting magic here and there as he started to make something that seemed meaningful. Not just an imitation of a rose or some other functional device.

He spun in a slow circle as a covering of glass spread around him. Walls of decorative ice melded together as he smiled hopefully.

Maybe he finally had a breakthrough.

"I want to feel air that I can breathe!!!"

The things around him continued to grow and mount. How exciting! His own creations! His own little place! His work!

"I'm tired of being nothing!!!"

He jumped onto a growing tree-like structure holding onto a branch with one fist, blinded by the influx of power and confidence. The entire thing glowed brightly with purple- his happy color.

"I'm tired cause I don't wanna be-"

He lept off the branch as it grew and onto the bottom of a slope that was steadily being created from under him.

His smile was fit to burst as he raised his arms to shoulder level, his heart practically singing from the feeling of making and doing and being!

"I wanna feel something!!"

He saw a blue moon slowly come to light ahead and he was so amazed! He made that?!

He laughed and continued his climb upwards, practically running with joy.

"I wanna feel air that I can breathe!!!"

And for those moments he does! He felt his own air graze his cheeks as he continued to ascend to the highest peaks. He forgot this feeling ever existed. Of seeing something you worked so hard finally being revealed.

"I'm tired of being nothing!!!!"

And he was finally done with it! He wasn't 'nothing' anymore! His existence wasn't a stray mark on a masterpiece! He was the author of his own story! He was in control! His arm physically reaches out in front of him- a gust of ice and snow blowing in front of him.

"I'm tired cause I don't wanna be-"

His stomach dropped when he realized he had reached the top and- it was just a roof. It was... a roof like any of the other houses down there. Nothing spectacular. And his outstretched hand touched nothing but glass. What?

He looked around. Down at the three different sized trees. A snowman sat somewhere between that and the... house. All of the snow was settled at the bottom. Above and around him was nothing but glass.

A snowglobe. He made a fucking snowglobe.

"... Make believe."

His smile dropped steadily and his hand curled into his chest as he wrapped his coat tighter around him and dropped onto the roof, looking up at the moon with a pained expression.

He would have cried, but he was too exhausted. He just tucked his knees to his chest and buried his face in the sleeves of his jacket.

He tried to calm himself before he would return to the nameless city.

Where in a world of aliens, inventors, and creators he was nothing but make believe.

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snidgetsafan · 6 years

Text

The Curse of the Black Roger: Prologue

Rating: G

Summary:

“You should start believing in ghost stories, Miss Swan – because you’re in one.”

When young Princess Emma found a pirate necklace on the baby rescued from the sea, she never expected years later to be swept into an adventure worthy of her favorite novels.

And she certainly never expected someone like the legendary Captain Hook.A

“Pirates of the Carribean” AU

Notes: Here is my offering for the CSSNS! Thanks to @amorecolorfulmoniker, whose pic set inspired this fic. Thanks to my betas, @gingerchangeling and @shireness-says who acted as a sounding board, a crying shoulder and grammar enforcers where needed. Thanks also to @slow-smiles, who created amazing art for this fic! Wonderful banner by @wingedlioness.

On AO3

“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me…”

Emma leant on the railing at the bow of the Pride of Amphitrite, her gaze lost in the dense mist surrounding the ship while she hummed dreamily. This was her first trip abroad, and she had enjoyed it immensely, despite the circumstances in which she had taken the journey. She had spent her time on the ship observing the men working, exploring the deck and hold, and trying to spot dolphins in the water below. Now, on the last day of their return trip, she was trying to take advantage of their last hours at sea to feel the spray on her face and smell the salt in the breeze.

Her mother, Queen Ruth of Misthaven, and she were making their way back from her uncle and aunt’s memorial, which had taken place the week before. Her mother had been sad, because Aunt Gerda had been her sister, but Emma hadn’t known her very well. She had only met Aunt Gerda once, when they had gone to Arendelle to see her cousin Anna, who had just been born. However, she had tried to help her mother, by being well-behaved and entertaining her cousins, even if Elsa had refused to come out of her room. The young princess had missed her brother and father while she was gone, but David had come down with chickenpox three days before leaving, and he’d had to stay in bed, with their father taking care of him.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. “You shouldn’t be singing that song, your Highness, that’s bad luck,” Manley, one of the sailors, gruffly told her when she turned around. “That sort of song is calling for trouble, is what it is. Almost as bad as whistling, that damn song is.”

“I would thank you, Mister Manley, to watch your language around the Princess,” a disapproving voice told Emma’s interlocutor before she could answer. Grumbling into his red neck scarf about not needing any bad luck in this pea soup, the stocky sailor walked away as she looked behind her, seeing her mother and the Pride’s captain approaching. When they had come to within a few feet of her, the captain bowed to her, and continued, “While his language was quite inappropriate, he was right, your Highness. That song makes sailors nervous, and pirates are not to be admired.”

Clasping her hands tightly, Emma told him, “I think it would be quite exciting to meet a pirate.”

Her mother frowned while the captain smiled briefly. “Think again, your Highness. They are vile and vicious creatures, who thrive on the misery of others, and who have never worked a day of honest work in their lives. I’ll make sure any man or woman found convicted of piracy gets what they deserve: a short drop and a sudden stop.”

Emma gasped when she understood his meaning, as her mother hurried to her side and held her shoulders. “I’m not sure this is appropriate talk for a ten year old girl, Captain Cassidy.”

The man lowered his eyes, and then bowed to his Queen. “You are right, your Majesty. Please accept my apologies, it won’t happen again.” He turned to look at Emma. “I am sorry if I have shocked you, Princess, it was not my intention.” And with another bow, he was gone, making his way towards the stern.

Emma turned towards her mother, dislodging the Queen’s hands from her shoulders. “Actually I find all of this fascinating.”

“Yes, that’s what concerns me,” the Queen told her drily, raising her eyebrows. “A young lady should not find pirates fascinating or exciting. And she definitely should not know pirate shanties, nor should she sing them in public. Now, try to behave, sweetheart, we are almost home.”

“Yes, Mama,” Emma answered quietly, as Ruth turned to follow Captain Cassidy. She didn’t understand why her mother was so adamant she stop being interested in pirates. She knew, objectively, that they were dangerous outlaws. But they also lived a life full of adventure, sailing the Seven Seas and going where they wanted. What was not to like about that way of life? She had read every book on pirates she could find in the castle’s library, dreaming between her lessons of boarding enemy ships, taking their cargo and sailing towards the horizon with her crew, or battling legendary creatures to seize their treasures.

Emma had loved traveling on the Pride, feeling the wind and the sun on her skin and getting used to the gentle sway of the deck below her feet. Briggs, the ship’s quartermaster, had even taught her a few things, such as the difference between port and starboard and what the different parts of a ship were called. The princess had even learned how to knot what was called a “bowline” this very morning. The young girl also knew that the ship she was sailing on was called a ship of the line, and that it was the flagship of her father’s Navy.

Emma pondered all of this as she silently resumed her place at the railing, fiddling with the cord she had been practicing with all day and looking down at the mist hanging over the ocean, which looked black in the dim light. The monotony of the sight, however, was soon broken when an object came floating out of the fog. Emma squinted, trying to discern what it could be. She was surprised to find it was an umbrella, floating on its back. She looked at it, smiling slightly as it passed her, wondering how such an ordinary object had found its way here. Had it fallen off a passenger ship, a sudden gust of wind having ripped it off a lady’s hand? Or had it come all the way from the land? They were not far from Misthaven, after all…

Movement in the periphery of her vision made her turn her head, as another object floated towards her. A wicker basket bobbed on the waves not far from the ship, and came to within a few yards of where Emma stood, allowing her to see the basket was not empty, that some sort of fabric filled it. Her smile faded, as she wondered at the probability of two objects floating near the Pride, when there hadn’t been anything for days.

The young princess frowned suddenly, as she thought she heard a faint sound coming from the sea. Listening carefully, she leant over the railing, and heard it again, clearer this time. It sounded like an infant crying. Where was it coming from? Emma heard it a third time, and saw at the same time the fabric inside the basket move, as it began to sway harder on the waves. Her eyes widening in horror, she turned frantically as she shouted at the sailors surrounding her, “Help! There’s a baby in the water!”

At first, the men looked at her curiously, sure they had misheard. But once she repeated herself, yelling even louder, Manley, who hadn’t wandered far from her, hurried to the railing, and looked at where Emma was pointing. Thankfully, the baby cried again at that exact moment, and, with no hesitation, he started removing his jacket while calling out “Man overboard!... Well, a miniature one!” before diving off the side of the ship. The deck erupted into chaos as men burst into action, running towards where he had jumped, some readying ropes to haul them back on deck. Emma clutched the railing, leaning over to see better. Manley swam to the basket, clutching it to his chest after he had checked what was inside. Swimming one handedly back to the ship, he grabbed one of the ropes that had been thrown to him, and tied the basket by its handles. As men started to carefully haul the basket on board, making sure not to jostle it and drop its precious cargo, Manley gripped the other rope and began to climb the side of the ship, keeping level with his charge.

When she saw they both were about to reach the deck, she tried to get closer, but the men were so tightly packed around the sailors lifting it that she could not even get a glimpse of the basket. Her mother and Cassidy’s arrival granted her an opportunity to get closer, as the crew parted to let their captain and their Queen approach, but before she could follow them, she heard a nearby sailor swear profusely under his breath. Following his gaze, she saw the burning remains of a large ship emerging from the fog, the flames rising from its broken hull coloring the surrounding mist in red at it slowly sunk under the waves. Black smoke mixed with white mist, creating a crimson halo around the wreck that seemed to have a life of its own. A change in the wind brought the smell of burning wood to Emma’s nose. The smell also attracted the attention of the group surrounding the basket, and activity once again erupted on the deck.

Emma’s mother walked quickly towards her, and guided her with a hand on her back towards the basket, which she could now see clearly. “Emma, the baby’s in your charge, take it to the Captain’s cabin. I will join you in a few minutes.” Her mother looked quickly behind her, eyeing the gathered group of muttering sailors, before forcing a smile on her face. “Take care of him, sweetheart.” She gestured urgently to a cabin boy, holding a short conversation with him, before allowing him to lift the basket. In a louder voice, she finished giving her instructions to Emma, turning her towards the rear of the ship and giving her a small push to propel her forward, “Make sure the baby is warm and dry, and stay with it.”

Emma followed the cabin boy, opening the door for him and watching him put the basket down on a bench before leaving the room. She closed the door behind him, turning to approach the now silent basket. She peeked over the edge, where two curious brown eyes were gazing at her. The fabric she had spotted while on deck was a woollen blanket, embroidered with little swans on its edges. There appeared to be nothing else in the basket, which was slowly dripping on the bench.

Remembering her mother’s instructions, she carefully slipped her hands between the wickerwork and the blanket, feeling for any wetness. When she found none, she lifted the baby gingerly, making sure to support its head like she had seen midwives do at the castle. Once the baby was secured in her arms, she moved the blanket away from its face. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” she said in a soothing voice. A little fist was clutching a corner or the blanket, and Emma gently pried it away, seeing that a word was embroidered there. “Henry”, she read aloud, looking down into the little face. “Hello Henry, my name is Emma, and you’re on the Pride of Amphitrite, the best ship on the Seven Seas. You’re safe now.” She lightly bounced him as she walked around the cabin, stopping in front of a window. As she raised her eyes, she saw something glinting in the light. Tugging, she saw it was a golden chain with a heavy pendant at its end. She gasped when she saw the grinning skull engraved in the center. Looking back at Henry, she whispered “You’re a pirate!” She stared in wonder at the necklace. How did a baby end up on a pirate ship? Was he the son of one of the crew? Her wonder turned to worry as she remembered the Captain’s words. Surely he would not harm a baby?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door handle turning. Not thinking, Emma shoved the necklace down the bodice of her dress, hoping the thick cotton would hide the strange bump in the middle of her flat chest, before turning and plastering an innocent smile on her face. Her mother stepped through the threshold, blocking the view of the deck. “How’s the baby?”

“He’s fine, Mom.”, Emma answered hurriedly.

“He? Is it a boy then?”

“Yes, his name is Henry, it’s embroidered on his blanket. Here, look.”

The Queen approached and leaned over Emma and the baby. “You’re right, and what a beautiful blanket it is,” she said, fingering the fabric. “Hello, little Henry, it looks like you were the only one lucky enough to survive.”

Emma looked at her mother, digesting her words. No one had survived the shipwreck? A shiver went down her spine. “What happened, Mom? Why did the ship explode?”

Raising her eyes from where she was stroking Henry’s face with her finger, Ruth looked at her gravely, pondering her words. “It seems the ship’s powder reserves exploded. We don’t know why yet.”

Emma looked intently at her mother. The princess had always been able to detect when someone was lying, and while her mother was not telling Emma an outright lie, the queen was not being entirely truthful. What was her mother hiding? Emma could see however she would not be able to get a straight answer from the woman if she pressed the issue now, and decided to drop the subject for the moment. Looking down at Henry, she wondered aloud, “Then what is going to happen to him? If he has no family, who is going to take care of him? Don’t we have a responsibility towards him?”

Ruth looked at her daughter, a fond smile on her lips. “You’re right, darling, we can’t abandon him. You found him; he is our family’s responsibility now. We will take him in at the castle as a royal ward, and we will place him with one of the nurses.” Tucking Emma’s hair behind her shoulder, the Queen continued, as she prepared to leave. “And as his savior, your first mission will be to find your charge a last name. Do you feel up to this task?”

Emma nodded, glad Henry would be taken care of. She would make sure he got everything he needed. The princess had barely known him for an hour, but she already felt an attachment to the little boy she could not explain. Looking down at him, the girl again approached the window, wondering what name to give the infant. Emma had to be careful in her choice - it would follow him his whole life. Henry chose that moment to wave his arms, making the blanket fall away from his torso. As Emma tucked him back in it, she rubbed one of the embroidered swans thoughtfully. Could it be this simple? Looking back into his eyes, the young girl tried it aloud: “Henry Swan,” she said. If the fact that it felt right to call him that had not convinced her, Henry’s shriek of delight would have done the job. Smiling, Emma told him “Welcome to Misthaven, Henry Swan.”

However, her joy was short-lived, as she remembered the medallion hidden in her bodice, which had been slowly slipping down her dress all this time, only being stopped on its descent by Henry’s body being pressed close to her own. Should she tell her mother what she had found out? Would her mother be as benevolent towards Henry if she knew his true heritage? Emma was afraid she would send the little boy to a family outside the castle, where she would not be able to see him. It made her decision easy: she would protect Henry and his secret from her mother and the Captain by hiding the medallion, so they would never know his true heritage, and he wouldn’t be taken from her. All the pirates on that ship were gone, no one would be the wiser. Taking out the medallion, she raised it in the light, looking at the symbols engraved on it. Before she could try to decipher them, or at least understand in what language they were, movement outside the window caught her eye, and she looked up.

She gasped, clutching Henry to her. The mist had parted for a moment, and Emma could see a dark shape sailing away from the Pride. It was a ship, or at least it looked like the ghostly remains of a ship. Its black sails were ripped in several places, and a large hole on the starboard side of its hull gaped just above the water line. Its skeletal appearance should have made it impossible for the specter to float, even less sail as fast as it did, but it swiftly cut through the water as if pulled by the god of the seas himself. It looked as if it were out of this world, and a shiver went down Emma’s spine. The last thing she saw before the fog swallowed the vision was its flag, a white grinning skull on a black background. Pirates! Emma thought wildly, pressing herself to the window, making sure not to crush Henry. But the ship had already disappeared, as if it had never existed.

Chapter 1

#snidget writes #cssns #cs ff #captain swan

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piperemerald · 6 years

Text

Divided We Fall

Commission for @wombatking, details on my commission here

Paring: Zutara

Word Count: 11,080

Summary: Zuko will never act on his feelings for Katara. She’s smart, full of light, and he knows she can do so much better than him. However, when she suffers a life-changing injury and both of their worlds are turned upside down, he must grow up in a hurry to help her fight to adjust.

Zuko didn’t like parties. They were loud and obnoxious and full of loud and obnoxious people. He’d spent the entirety of middle school and his first two years of high school avoiding any type of social gathering. He didn’t have the time or patience to put up with the flakes and jerks who hated him anyway. He was better off being a loner.

He bitterly reminded himself of this as he made his way through the crowded beach, trying not to cringe at the overly cheery faces he was forced to pass in the hallway every school day. It was the first day of spring break. He should be sleeping or doing something remotely fun, not uncomfortably hovering through yet another one of Sokka’s stupid parties. How the dork was able to get half their school to show up to his event was a mystery to Zuko.

He scanned the crowd around him for someone that he could at least stand by for a few minutes. Toph was sitting under one of the disgustingly bright beach umbrellas, looking just as out of place as he felt. A group of girls in his grade walk past her, loudly complaining about their sheltered, petty problems.

In a swift motion, Toph scooped up a handful of wet sand and launched it in their direction. Zuko felt a smirk form on his face when the sand hit its mark. Toph then plastered on an innocent smile that anyone who actually knew her could see through in a heartbeat, using her blindness as a flimsy excuse. The stuck up girls bought it, as they rushed off to scrape the wet sand from their expensive bikini tops.

Toph was cool like that. She knew that people saw her as disadvantaged, but instead of letting it bother her she used that as a weapon. She knew how to play off of the stupid people around her and have a good time while she was at it. Zuko envied that.

“Nice one,” he commented as he walked over to her.

“Who dragged you here?” She asked point blank. Toph didn’t do small talk. That was fine with Zuko. He hated suffering through awkward pleasantries that no one actually gave a damn about.

“My uncle,” he said stiffly.

That was true for the most part. Uncle Iroh hadn’t forced Zuko to drive to the beach, but he had casually pointed out the amount of times that Katara had asked him to at least show up. Guilt tripping was a low blow, and Zuko was still getting used to how effective it was proving to be.

“This stuff isn’t any fun without Aang.” Toph’s complaint brought him back to the present.

Zuko had to agree with her. Aang had been the self appointed mediator of the quirky friend group Katara had dragged Zuko into. He knew everyone’s boundaries and found ways to work around them. At events like this he knew how to be the life of the party, and had gotten away with tricking Zuko into having a good time more than once.

The group wasn’t the same since he’d moved away at the beginning of the school year. The role of peace keeper had shifted to Katara, but she had a bit of a temper. Zuko was pretty sure it was a side effect of caring too much. He’d told her this once, she hadn’t exactly been amused.

That thought made him grin. Part of him liked riling her up. He liked watching the spark in her eyes when she started an argument. He liked watching it grow into a shine when she realized how right she was. She had so much passion, and it amazed him how even the smallest things could get her going.

Looking back, he guessed it was funny that he liked to see her fight, since fighting was how their friendship started.

As if aware he was thinking about her, Katara and her brother took that moment to appear. Sokka was clearly reveling in how many people he’d managed to get to show up to his cheesy celebrating-spring-break party. Zuko would admit that it was an accomplishment, even if he could never understand why anyone would take pride in it.

“Hey,” Katara smiled at him and Toph.

She looked beautiful. Her dark hair was pinned out of her face, highlighting the radiance that shone off her tanned skin. She was always bright. It didn’t matter how much warmth she’d already spent. An endless supply of light pooled off her, filling the space around her. She lifted people up—she drew them in, probably without even noticing.

Katara rarely wore makeup. Zuko figured this was probably just because she didn’t have time to fuss over how she looked, and not that she realized she didn’t need it. He hoped she never started, part of him was scared that adding powder and colors would taint her shine.

“Hi,” he said. He didn’t tell her she looked amazing. He didn’t tell her that her presence made the aggravating surroundings slip into a blur.

Zuko had gotten used to keeping these thoughts under wraps. That didn’t mean there hadn’t been slip ups. There were times when he stared too long, or didn’t realize that he wasn’t masking his emotions. Katara never noticed these moments, Sokka did.

Aang had as well. He used to tease Zuko about it relentlessly. After finally getting over the painfully obvious crush he’d had on Katara, Aang had been certain that she and Zuko would eventually fall into each other’s arms. Those were the words he’d used each time he’d excitedly explained it to Zuko.

On weaker days, Zuko went with the fantasy, but when he was being brutally honest with himself he knew how impossible the rosy picture was. Aang had never been good at accepting reality, especially if it meant he had to think about the negative parts of someone. He didn’t understand that Katara deserved better than Zuko. Even if she felt the same—and there were moments when he thought she might—she didn’t need someone who matched her light with darkness.

“Come on, you guys gotta stop moping and have fun for once,” Sokka informed them.

This was how it always started. Somewhere Zuko could recognize that Sokka wasn’t actively trying to get under his skin. Somewhere he understood that there were always going to be things that other people didn’t get—there were always going to be buttons they didn’t mean to push that would send him over the edge. It was on him to stay calm, to not snap. He had always been shit at that.

The next thing he knew they were bickering about the party, and not about the party. For Zuko it was always boiled down to the same argument that they’d had a million times. Why couldn’t Zuko have fun? Why couldn’t he lighten up? Why couldn’t he stop dragging everyone else down with him?

Katara tried to cut in. She tried to make them both shut up for one second and realize that all they were doing was pissing each other off, and ruining everyone else’s time. Sokka was never good at listening to her when she tried to break up a fight. Neither was Zuko. Katara was hot headed, her telling anyone to calm down was hypocritical.

Zuko pulled himself back, not out of clarity but irritation. He wasn’t at school. He wasn’t being forced to continue this conversation, or even stay at the shitty party. He said as much, and turned to walk away.

He couldn’t go home. If he arrived back this early his uncle would think something had happened, and besides not even he was that dramatic. Instead he headed in the direction of the cliffs overlooking the beach. The climb up was easy. Zuko wasn’t the most athletic person he knew, but the knowledge of his earlier years of martial arts his mother had made (and father had allowed) him to attend were still in his body. Soon he found himself with an unobstructed view of the ocean and clear sky above it.

The beach was nicer here. He couldn’t see the party full of happy people who didn’t like him. Instead it was just water, and sand, and sky. It was calm and peaceful—two things he struggled to maintain. Maybe this was why other people liked going to the beach. Standing here, he didn’t feel like he needed to keep his armor up.

People told him he didn’t relax enough, but really he didn’t have enough chances to. How could anyone who knew how awful the world was relax? It didn’t matter if he was in high school or a battlefield, people were always ready to cut him down. He had to be prepared to fight back.

He wasn’t like his friends. He didn’t know how to make people like him. Katara and Sokka weren’t popular, but they could make friends with just about anyone. They knew how to be nice to people they didn’t even know. Zuko couldn’t do that. He never could. He stuck out at school and it was hard not to resent the people around him for not letting him fit in. That only got worse when he got his scar and—

And he wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t going to think about Katara either, and how she’d somehow become intertwined with the bad memories, bleeding light and understanding into them. Or how she was probably so disappointed in him right now.

Instead he looked out over the calm, quiet ocean. He hadn’t been to this beach before. He liked it more than he thought he would. It reminded him of another beach he’d been to a long time ago.

He was playing in the sand. He wanted to build a sandcastle. The tide kept trying to wash it away. After several attempts he finally built the first wall. He was proud. It was a good wall.

His sister was next to him. She wasn’t having fun. She never had fun.

Their parents were sitting nearby. His father looked bored, but his mother was watching them play. Zuko showed her his wall. It was going to be a big castle by the end of the day. He would build it so tall that the waves wouldn’t ever knock it down.

His mother laughed. She told him she was sure that he could build a great castle. Zuko looked over to where his father was sitting. He wasn’t watching them. He didn’t care about Zuko’s wall. Zuko told himself that was alright. When the castle was done, his father would be impressed.

He started piling sand for the next wall. He needed this one to be even stronger. As he pushed the sand a small crab crawled out between his fingers. Zuko watched it walk. It was headed toward the ocean. Zuko scrambled in front of it, trying to guide it back to the sand. He didn’t remember if his teacher said crabs could swim or not.

Gently, he pushed it toward a mountain of sand and watched it disappear within the grains. He smiled. He saved the crab.

Standing up, he turned to tell his mother. Maybe his father would pay attention now. After all, saving a life was more impressive than his sand wall. He looked up in time to see his sister crush his castle.

He shouted at her. She started crying, she ran to their father. He told Zuko to stop yelling. He told him to grow up.

That wasn’t fair. Azula shouldn’t get to do that and get away with it. It wasn’t right.

His mother shushed him. She told him they could build it again. That together they could make an even better castle. She looked at him through pained eyes, and pursed her lips.

Why was it so hard to remember her smiling?

Katara was kinda pissed off. No, she was fed up. Fed up with her friends fighting, fed up with them not listening to her, fed up with Zuko cutting himself off from everyone else yet again. This always happened. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t just get along for a few minutes. They didn’t have to take every tiny comment to heart.

Alright, she was probably one to talk with that one. The real solution would be for comments not to be made in the first place, but Sokka and Zuko had the verbal filters of children.

She sighed to herself. Sokka didn’t understand Zuko. He didn’t get that words got under his skin, and he didn’t choose to react angrily. The anger was a part of him. Katara was scared that it always would be.

Not that she could blame him. After everything the guy had gone through, she was surprised he could find it in him to be kind and gentle. That was the side of him that most people didn’t see, or even think that he had. It was Katara’s favorite side of Zuko.

Gentle Zuko was nicer, but he didn’t go out of his way to tailor his words. He bickered with her, and laughed at her, and knew how to have fun. It took a long time for Katara to meet this Zuko, and she didn’t get to see him all that often. He existed in the moments where Zuko allowed himself to let all his walls down. They were fragile moments, but they were beautiful.

It wasn’t too hard to get Sokka to calm down after the argument. She didn’t try to talk sense into him now. She’d do that to the both of them, but she could choose her moments better. They were supposed to be having fun. It was a nice day, and the water was begging her to go swimming.

That was a good idea. If she could get everyone (spare Toph) into the water, they’d forget that they were mad at each other. They’d have fun for once and be glad that it was finally spring break.

Katara was more excited for the idea of vacation than she’d been in years. Junior year was killing her. She guessed that might have been her fault, since she had been the one to take on as many AP classes as their school would allow. Sokka on the other hand, had spent his time hatching a “brilliant plan” to coast ’til college. His work ethic annoyed her. Most people’s work ethics annoyed her.

She’d had the mindset pushing herself. She’d had that even before they’d let her skip a grade in middle school. Being the only fifteen-year-old in her grade level just made it more rewarding when she came out top of the class. She enjoyed challenges. School was just a series of contests.

“Do you know where Zuko went?” Katara asked Toph, once Sokka had forgotten his irritation and was busy chasing after Suki.

“He didn’t say anything,” Toph stated, clearly annoyed.

“Right,” Katara mumbled. She scanned the crowd around her. More people had showed up than she expected. Zuko probably hated that. He’d never liked crowds.

Her eyes landed on a figure standing over the cliff arching over the water. Well, that was very him. Shaking her head, she headed up the slope. Maybe she could convince him to come down for a bit. They planned to get a game of volleyball going at some point. That would get Zuko and Sokka on speaking terms, Sokka loved strategizing and Zuko had pretty good aim and reflexes.

“Hey,” she said when she reached the top, making sure he realized it was her. He had to have heard her coming, but he hadn’t turned around. “Look, I know you’re mad but—”

The next thing she knew he had jumped. She ran to the edge in time to see him cannonball into the water below.

“Seriously?” She shouted after him.

She felt annoyance course through her. He could have at least heard her out, it wasn’t like she was the one he’d been fighting with. No, she was there to try to make him feel better. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult?

“Whatever,” she muttered to herself.

He wasn’t getting away that easily. She was just as good of a swimmer as him, and had never been afraid of heights. If he thought he could get out of talking to her by jumping, he was dead wrong. Taking a deep breath, Katara dove off the bluff.

Looking back, she felt inclined to think that what happened next happened in slow motion—that each fraction of moment slipped by with clarity and understanding. In reality it all went too fast.

The fall was exhilarating, bearing the ignorant bliss only the seconds before a life changing instant can. She saw the blue water ahead of her, she felt the air whip past her face. Her eyes were open, she was far past the fear of getting salt in them.

She saw the blur of brown that was the sandbar before she felt it, but she didn’t realize exactly how much she’d misjudged the distance of the drop until she collided head first.

A sickening crack filled her ears as she felt her neck snap back. Her vision blurred, and part of her knew it wasn’t just from the water. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, as her heart pounded in her chest and pain shot through her body.

She saw the ocean floor. She loved swimming in areas like this. She loved seeing the land and water collide. Now it mocked her.

Doing her best to block out the pain, she tried to push herself to the surface. She could be scared and berate herself once she was lying on the sand. She tried to pump her arms and make the water propel her up, like she learned back when her father had first taught her how to swim.

She couldn’t move her arms. She couldn’t move at all. She was floating underwater and she couldn’t move.

Zuko knew it was kind of a dick move to jump, but he really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about how he needed to stop lashing out at little things. It had nothing to do with him not wanting her to see him crying.

He hadn’t been crying. He’d been thinking of a stupid memory from a very long time ago that didn’t mean anything to him anymore. He didn’t cry about memories. They no longer had that power over him.

He heard her dive after him. Well, he definitely was going to get that lecture now. That was fine. He’d like to see her try to scold him while bobbing in the water.

A laugh escaped his lips as he resurfaced. He didn’t try to swallow it, no one was around but Katara and he hadn’t felt this light in ages. This was so very them, and God help him if he loved it. He loved that he could be overly dramatic and she would follow him right into it.

His eyes scanned the water around him, waiting for her to pop up and start splashing him. The laugh on his lips faded. She should have surfaced by now. She might have dove a little bit after him, but she wouldn’t have gone under for this long.

She wasn’t coming up. Why wasn’t she coming up?

Panic burned through him. Zuko hated panic. He hated how it could wrench his control away from him and leave him a helpless mess. Frantically, he pushed through the water around him. He’d jumped farther from the cliff, he’d realized it would have been dangerous not to. What if Katara—

He saw her body floating a few feet away from him. Moving faster than he thought possible, he swam to her. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her head above the water. He didn’t let go as she gasped for breath. He’d never heard a more terrifying sound.

She had just been floating, face down. He knew how deadly a couple seconds could be underwater. She could have drowned. She could have died.

Almost on a reflex, Zuko tightened his grip on Katara. She wasn’t holding him back. Aside from the uneven breaths, she wasn’t moving at all.

“Are you okay?” He asked. His voice was louder and rougher than he meant it to be, but she didn’t wince.

“No,” she gasped out. “I can’t move. I couldn’t breathe.”

She was in shock.

“I’m getting you to shore,” he told her. “Can you hold onto me?”

“No,” there was fear in her eyes. Zuko decided then and there that he was going to do everything he could to make sure she never looked like that again.

“Okay,” he tried to sound—he tried to sound like he knew what the hell he was doing. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He slowly maneuvered the both of them to the beach. When the water was shallow enough, he looped his arm under her, carrying her bridal style to shore. He felt her head lean into his shoulder. In the back of his mind he remembered how much he’d longed to be this close to her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Sokka and Toph met them at the shore. Sokka must have seen him carrying her. Zuko gently laid her on the sand before collapsing next to her. All adrenaline had worn off, leaving him drained and scared.

“What happened?” Sokka demanded, worry that Zuko rarely saw etched across his face.

“She dove after me,” Zuko told them. “I found her floating.”

“I hit a sand bar,” Katara said between breaths. “Sokka, you need to call an ambulance.”

“Just breath,” Zuko started. “You’re in shock—”

“No,” terror was seeping into her voice. “I can’t move!”

“I’m calling 911,” Sokka frantically fished his phone out of his pocket.

Zuko felt a pit form in his stomach.

She was sitting in the hospital waiting room. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She could feel tear tracks on her face, but she couldn’t remember crying. The nurses told her that she had to wait here. They didn’t let her into the room with him. She guessed that made sense, but she couldn’t stand not being by his side.

She didn’t know why she was the one he called. He’d sounded so lost and broken, she’d never heard him let his guard down so completely. As she sat, replaying the events in her head, she hoped she’d done the right thing. She could have moved faster, she could have called the ambulance right away instead of asking what happened.

She knew what happened. She didn’t need the details to have a clear image in her mind. Why hadn’t she said something to someone sooner? Her father would have tried to help, the school counselor would have. She could have done something, whether he wanted her to or not.

When she closed her eyes she could still see his face. He was bleeding. Half his face was bleeding.

She couldn’t breath. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this terrified or this angry.

She wanted to kill the person who’d done this. She wanted to demand an answer from life, because this was not alright. Zuko didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of it.

Katara opened her eyes to a white, dimly lit room she’d never seen before. She was lying down, but this wasn’t her bed.

She was in a hospital.

In a jumbled rush, the events at the beach came back to her. She had dove off the cliff after Zuko. She remembered hitting her head, she remembered lying in the water, she remembered thinking she was going to die.

Zuko found her in time. He'd pulled her to safety and carried her to shore. She couldn’t swim for herself, her arms and legs wouldn’t work, she couldn’t move. Suddenly the panic from the moment in the water was back. She tried to sit up, she tried to fight the stillness in her body, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t get herself to.

“I can’t move,” she said out loud.

It was only when the words left her lips that she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. Sokka was sitting next to her. Alertness shot through his body. She realized he must have been dozing off a moment ago.

“I know,” he looked scrambled. That didn’t usually happen. “Dad’s talking to the nurses, I’ll tell them you’re awake—”

“Why can’t I move?” She asked before he could stand up.

“I—” He looked down at her with sad eyes. She didn’t like that look. The last time she’d seen it was their mother’s funeral. “They called it a C4/5 level spinal cord injury.”

“I’m paralyzed,” the words felt numb.

“From the shoulders down,” Sokka said.

“For how long?” She asked. “When did they say I should get better?”

“They said maybe never,” he wasn’t looking at her.

“No,” Katara could hear her own voice shaking. “This isn’t happening.”

“Katara—” He was worried now. He’d stopped being worried for her a long time ago.

“This can’t happen,” she uttered.

Katara had plans for her life. Not ones that would take years to accomplish, ones she was already working on. She spent years working, at school and in her personal life. She had goals, there were things she still needed to do. This couldn’t happen—not to her.

“Katara, calm down!”

Sokka’s voice broke through her thoughts, as if he could hear them. Maybe he could. For all their ups and downs, they were close enough to read each other. They were close enough for this to hurt him too.

“I’ll get Dad,” he started.

“No,” her voice wasn’t firm. It was small. She’d promised herself years ago she’d stop being small. “Can you stay with me for a minute?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice close to breathless. “Whatever you want.”

Katara closed her eyes. Sokka was right, she needed to calm down. She needed to think.

She’d heard of cases where, with the right balance of physical therapy people were able to beat things like this. Katara was strong. She was the strongest person that she knew. She could beat this. The doctors didn’t know her, they didn’t know what she was capable of withstanding. She could recover, she just needed to fight.

“I’m gonna kill Zuko.” Sokka’s words brought her back to reality.

“Sokka.” She couldn’t deal with this now.

“He’s the reason this happened,” there was anger in his voice. Anger and something else. He was scared. He hadn’t let her see him scared in years.

“You didn’t say anything to him, did you?” Katara asked, dread filling her.

“It’s his fault you got hurt in the first place!” Sokka was shouting now.

“No, it isn’t,” she tried to tell him.

If they fought about this, Zuko might have yelled back but chances were he’d just taken it. He was probably just as upset as Sokka. What if he’d agreed with him?

“I knew he was bad news,” Sokka kept going. “I knew from the very beginning—”

“Will you listen to me for once in your life?” Katara’s voice cut through the room, shattering the enraged haze that had enveloped her brother a moment before.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft now.

“Don’t,” Katara didn’t finish. She didn’t tell him that this wasn’t how she wanted him to listen to her. It was supposed to be because he knew she was right, not because she was hurt and he didn’t want to upset her.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She could do that. Maybe talking through it would help.

Zuko was surprised he’d made it home from the hospital the day of the accident. He was surprised that he hadn’t thrown himself into the closest and most reckless form of danger he could find. He deserved to. This was his fault.

He was the reason Katara was on that cliff. He was the reason she jumped. He was the reason she almost died.

What was happening now was almost worse than if she had drowned. She was the most ambitious person he knew, not being able to move would kill her. It would lock her down, and rip everything she’d been so close to achieving out of her hands.

He did this. Everything he touched burst into flames, and everyone who got close to him always got burned. He’d known this since he was a kid. He should have learned from it. If he’d ever cared about her, he would have made her stay away.

Zuko didn’t leave his room the next few days. His uncle wasn’t happy with that, but there wasn’t much he could do. He brought Zuko his meals and tea, and tried to coax exactly what had happened out of him, but Zuko didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw her floating in the water.

On thefifth day of spring break, his uncle—rather forcefully—dragged him out of bed. He demanded that Zuko stop moping and go to the hospital. He asked Zuko how Katara must feel—what she must bethinking after everyone but him had paid her a visit. Zuko hadn’t wanted to wonder what Katara was thinking. That meant imagining a Katara that resented him for what he’d done.

Uncle Iroh wouldn’t listen to that, saying that Zuko knew this girl well enough to know that she wasn’t blaming him. Even if she was, if that kept him away maybe he deserved the blame. Zuko didn’t tell his uncle that he was positive he did, but he agreed to go to the hospital.

He needed to face this at some point.

Hospitals didn’t make Zuko uncomfortable. He knew that feeling creeped around the medical material was supposed to be normal, but he’d never experienced this. Sometimes they made him sad. They reminded him of the days before his life completely wentto hell. They brought back memories of sitting by his mother’s bedside, thinking that somehow they were going to be a family again—thinking they’d ever been a family in the first place.

Zuko knew what floor Katara was on, but not what room. His plan of walking around until he got lucky didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped.

“Are you lost?” The nurse asked. She looked more peeved than concerned.

“No, I’m here to see someone,” Zuko stated, trying to mentally will her to leave him alone. Instead she looked at him expectantly. “Her name is Katara. I’m not sure what room she’s in, but—”

“Are you family?” The nursed asked, almost accusingly.

“Hey!” Sokka’s voice cut through the air. Zuko turned to see him trotting their way from the other end of the hall. “You just get here?”

Sokka looked from Zuko to the nurse.

“He’s with me,” he informed her. As if that was supposed to make whatever hold up there was go away.

Zuko wasn’t sure if he should facepalm or just be glad that Sokka wasn’t trying to kick him out of the hospital. Considering the last thing he’d done was scream at Zuko that all of this was his fault, that outcome had seemed a lot more likely than whatever was going on right now.

“We’re only admitting family,” the nurse said to Sokka.

Zuko didn’t know Sokka as well as the other members of their group, but he knew him enough to recognize and fear when the gears in his brain were turning. This was one of those moments.

“This is my cousin,” Sokka told the nurse. “Lee.”

Zuko blinked at him. Did he need to point out that no one in their right mind was going to think that someone who was obviously Japanese was related to someone who was clearly of native descent? It took a second for that to click for Sokka.

“Yeah,” he kept going. “He’s adopted. On our mom’s side. It’s weird and complicated. Right, Lee?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said stiffly.

“Come on,” Sokka grabbed Zuko by the shoulders and began to haul him away from the nurse. “I’ll show you where the room is.”

“Lee?” Zuko asked once they were out of earshot.

“I panicked,” Sokka shrugged. “But it worked."

“I guess,” Zuko would give him that.

“Listen,” Sokka stopped walking. “Katara told me what happened.”

“Right,” Zuko felt his blood run cold. Of course Sokka was still mad at him, he had every right to be.

“I’m sorry I blew up at you,” Sokka sounded more genuine than Zuko had ever heard from him.

“No, it’s fine,” Zuko told him. He was the one who should be apologizing.

“It’s not,” Sokka pressed. “Katara—she’s kinda all I’ve got. I mean, we have our dad and friends, but—”

He winced. He wasn’t looking at Zuko. He was never this vulnerable.

“I promised our mom I’d take care of her.” The words fell from Sokka’s lips stagnantly. “I failed.”

“You didn’t,” Zuko said. He and Sokka didn’t always get along, but at the end of the day they still chose to be friends. Zuko didn’t like seeing him in this much pain, and knowing that there was nothing anyone could do to take it away.

“I should have been there,” Sokka exhaled. “I’m glad you were.”

“It was my fault she was,” Zuko reminded him.

“She said she would have drowned if it wasn’t for you,” Sokka said heavily. “Thanks. You’re a good guy. Super emo, but a good guy.”

He gave Zuko a sad smile.

“She’s in that room,” Sokka pointed to the door behind them. “I’m gonna go to the food court for a bit. She’s kinda annoyed at me hovering.”

“Okay,” Zuko nodded.

He stood outside of the door for a second. He needed to walk in calm. He was ready for her to be mad at him. Whatever she needed to say, he’d take it. If this was the end, it was more than he deserved.

He pushed the door open.

The second his eyes landed on Katara, everything changed. She was lying motionless on the hospital bed. Her usual bright blue clothes, swapped with a plan whitegown. Her eyes weren’t closed but they might as well have been. They stared at the ceiling in a bored, saddened manner that felt jarring coming from her.

The light that usually danced all around her was gone.

Zuko couldn’t hide away and act like it was for the best. He couldn’t stuff his emotions into his darkest corners and pretend he didn’t feel, because this girl needed him. She needed him to grow up, and be strong.

She needed him like he had once needed her—like he still needed her. He needed her so much everyday.

He loved her. He loved everything about her from her smile, to her voice, to the way that she talked. He was so completely and hopelessly in love with her, and he was so mad that this had to be the place he realized it.

The mirror in the boy’s bathroom of Zuko’s high school was shitty. No one cared enough to clean the stains and stupid graffiti. You’d think people would have better things to write than “I hate math” and “school sucks.”

He had a solid twenty minutes before the warning bell rang and he had to get to his homeroom. He couldn’t afford to be late for another class. He thought that the teachers would care less about tardiness in high school, but he was only a few months in and it seemed like all of them were out to get him. If he slipped up, they’d call home. He couldn’t let that happen.

He poured a bit of the liquid foundation he’d stolen from his sister on to his finger tips. He rubbed the tan mush onto his chin, frustration growing when it did little to nothing to hide the dark purple mark. If a teacher saw this, they were going to ask questions. Zuko couldn’t think of a convincing enough lie.

He put more of the foundation on his hands. It didn’t matter if he used all of it. What was Azula gonna do? Complain to their father that he stole her makeup?

Zuko’s hand curled into a fist. She never had to do this. She was never forced to bend until breaking point for their family. No, she was the princess, the perfect one. He was the one their father hated—the mess up, the waste of space, the failure.

He punched the sink.

From behind him, he heard a kid scramble out of the bathroom. He’d thought he was alone. Was he seriously that dumb that he couldn’t realize someone was watching him. That meant he should probably clear out. He couldn’t deal with them coming back, or telling someone he’d punched the sink.

His hand rubbed the foundation across his chin. It still looked like a mess. He couldn’t leave until it was covered. That was more important than getting in trouble about hitting school property.

“What are you doing?”

He whirled around to see a girl with dark brown hair standing in the doorway. He knew her. She was in a few of his classes. He was pretty sure her name was Katara.

They didn’t get along. She was always trying to call him out or argue at whatever incorrect point he made. Preppy people were all the same.

“What are you doing?” He asked back. “This is the boy’s bathroom.”

“Someone said you were attacking the wall.” Her hands were on her hips.

“The walls fine,” he said through his teeth. “You can leave now.”

“What’s on your face?” She took a step closer to him.

“Go away,” he said bitterly. He tried to turn around, but the next thing he knew she had crossed the room. Her hand was outstretched, inches from his face. “Don’t touch me!”

She retracted her hand, but didn’t step back. That wasn’t right. She was supposed to run away now, instead something too close to compassion flashed in her eyes.

“You’re doing it wrong,” she said softly. “You’re supposed to blot. Here, can I?”

“Fine,” he muttered.

Slowly, her fingers brushed against his face, smoothing the mess of makeup already on his skin. She then took the foundation bottle from his hands and applied a little bit more. When she was done, Zuko turned to the mirror. His jaw looked normal, not sickening like it had when he woke up.

“Thanks,” he uttered.

“Wow,” a small smirk formed on her face.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary,” she snarked.

He rolled his eyes.

“What happened?” Her voice was softer now.

“Nothing,” he said stiffly. He turned to leave.

“Hey,” she started when he reached the door. When he looked back she was smiling at him. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

As he walked away he tried not to think about how soft her hands were. He tried not to ask himself how long it had been since someone was that gentle to him.

“Hey,” Zuko’s eyes were filled with something Katara didn’t understand. He didn’t walk into the room, he just stood there staring at her.

“Hi,” she tried to smile, but it didn’t feel real. “You can sit down, you know?”

“Oh,” he looked at the chair next to her bed. “Right.”

She didn’t know what to say to him. She wanted to ask why it took this long for him to show up. Why he hadn’t been there the second she woke up, like she would have been for him—like she knew he had to want for her.

The questions fell away as she looked at his face. She’s seen this version of him before. This was the boy she’d first met. This was the Zuko she’d befriended and guided. He had too many emotions that he didn’t know how to sort out, and was never going to admit how much that scared him.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice sounded hoarse. It was like the words were trying to rip his insides apart.

“Zuko.” She wanted to hug him. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him that it was going to be okay. She wanted to move to him.

“I’m the reason you jumped,” he said bitterly. “I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have even been on that stupid cliff.”

“Zuko, stop,” she was close to pleading. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he insisted.

“No.” Her voice was louder and sharper than she’d meant it to be. “You don’t get to say that, okay? You don’t get to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“But—”

“You saved my life.” She knew this was true. She’d felt the fear and hopelessness of those seconds underwater. “I don’t wanna fight about this.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly she was angry. He never folded this easily. They always argued for longer, even if it was about things that didn’t matter. Instead he was taking a step back. He was looking at her as if he was scared she was going to break. He was looking at her like she was weak.

She couldn’t take that. Not from him.

“What did the doctors say?” He asked softly.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said through her teeth. “I’m going to recover.”

“They think so?” For a second he looked hopeful. Then he put two and two together. “Right. Yeah, I’m sure you can.”

“They said I might never be able to move my arms, or sit up on my own, or walk again,” she told him.

“I’m sorry,” he sounded so sad.

“I’m going to fight this,” she pressed.

“I know you are.” He took her hand in his. She couldn’t hold his back.

Zuko spent the rest of his spring break at the hospital. He was pretty sure he was there more than Katara’s family. No one pointed that out, of course. Once school started back up, he went straight from classes to Katara’s room. He did his homework on the chair by her bed, mainly because it didn’t take her long to realize he was neglecting studying in order to spend time with her.

They didn’t make him leave during her physical therapy. He didn’t know the name of Katara’s physical therapist. She didn’t talk to him much. Not that Zuko minded. He’d gotten one or two knowing smiles that assured him the woman thought the wrong idea. That was bound to happen, since no one really believed that he was her “adopted cousin, Lee.”

Watching the physical therapy was hard, but Zuko knew that if he stepped out of the room it would be harder. Katara didn’t like to show weakness—they had that in common—but he knew that she wanted him there. Somehow, his presence had become a silent support as she became more and more frustrated.

“I can go for longer,” Katara insisted not for the first time.

“That’s enough for today,” her therapist said warmly.

Zuko didn’t think Katara appreciated the warmth. She was ready to fight, and she didn’t know how to recognize that it wasn’t a battle she could win.

Zuko knew she wasn’t the first to realize this. He saw the unspoken words in Katara’s father’s eyes, in the half hearted attempts at humor Sokka tried to make, at the way her therapist slowly reduced the exercises geared toward recovery. She wasn’t going to recover.

She wasn’t progressing, she was just fighting and losing. Everyone could see this but her, and no one knew how to break her denial. She was too stubborn, too determined, and too intense. These were things Zuko loved about her, and they were breaking his heart.

Katara had always been very good at blocking out reality. When her mother first got sick, she’d been certain that she was going to get better. When Aang had told them that his father’s job was forcing them to move, she’d been certain they’d change their minds. When her therapist stopped the exercises and started teaching her how to use a mouthstick to push buttons and turn pages, she told herself that this was just in case.

The cruel thing about reality, is that you can never hide from it for long.

She was alone when she broke. It was late, Zuko had just gone home. He was staying later and later each day. She’d spent most of the day learning how to use the Sip-and-Puff wheelchair to move around without someone pushing her. It was hard, but she was getting the hang of it. That almost felt gratifying, until it made her sick.

She’d blocked out weeks worth of everyone around her accepting the truth, and it was crashing down around her in a broken wave of cruel, twisted reality. This was her life now. She’d thought that if she stayed motivated, if she kept fighting, she could beat this, but that wasn’t happening. She couldn’t beat it.

She wasn’t ever going to walk—she wasn’t ever going to move her arms again.

Alone in the dark hospital room, she cried tears she couldn’t wipe. She thought about everything that she’d spent her life working for. She was supposed to start applying for colleges next semester. Her counselors had looked at her GPA and told her she was going to have so many schools fighting to get her.

Then there were the silly, unimportant things. She thought about the parties that Sokka loved to throw and how they would dance terribly to loud music and laugh. She thought about swimming in the ocean, feeling the water on her skin. She thought about Zuko.

They’d been close to something. She knew he liked her. He wasn’t exactly subtle, even if he hadn’t made any moves. From the beginning she knew anything with him was going to take time. He had so many walls—they both did. They’d been close to breaking them all. Neither of them were in a rush, part of her had just figured that when the moment was right one of them would say something.

She loved him. She loved the way he debated with her. She loved how protective and loyal he was to anyone he called a friend. She loved that he didn’t need people to like him, he just needed her.

They would have been right together. They would have been good for each other.

She wasn’t good for anyone now.

They were in the hospital. He had just been discharged a few minutes ago. As long as he kept applying the ointment to the burns and checked back in a week, he should be fine.

She wanted to scoff at that. As if a kid who’s face had been critically burned could just be fine. He was hurt, he was hurt in so many ways and no one was saying anything.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he wasn’t even looking at her.

“Why?” She glared even though he wasn’t the one she was mad at. “You know one of your teachers are going to put two and two together.”

“I’m gonna say it was an accident,” he said decidely. “I was high and had a lighter—”

“No one is going to believe that,” she cut him off.

“They think I’m stupid and reckless enough,” he said darkly.

“Then I’m going to the police,” she meant this. Now he looked up at her.

“You can’t,” he shook his head.

“I have to,” she was going to cry. She really didn’t need for him to see her cry. Not right now.

“You don’t get it,” he was angry now.

Katara had accepted a long time ago that anger was Zuko’s default. It was so much easier than everything else he could feel right now. That was fine. He could be angry. She was angry too.

“You don’t know my father,” he told her. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“So you’re gonna go back?” She questioned. “What about when something worse happens? And don’t you dare say it won’t.”

“I—”

That was when the anger faltered. There was something else in his eyes. He was scared. For the first time, he was scared and he didn’t know how to hide it from her.

She broke first. That was a surprise. After pushing him so far, she was the one who crumbled. The tears she’d been fighting to keep at bay fell down her cheeks. Without thinking of the consequences, she crossed the room. She pulled him into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said into his chest. “I just can’t watch him hurt you again.”

He inhaled sharply. She closed her eyes. She pretended the embrace could protect the both of them.

“You know,” Zuko started. “I think you’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

Katara had so many friends. How was it that this boy was the only one that mattered?

“It hurts to see you like this,” she told him.

“I think it’s a permanent part of my face now,” he muttered.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she pulled back to look him in the eye.”I mean it hurts that someone can damage you like this, and I couldn’t stop them.”

“Yeah,” there was a sad smile on his face. Gently, she brushed her fingers over the bandages that covered the scar he’d only let her get a glimpse of.

“Let me help you,” she pleaded.

“Okay,” he breathed.

She came home a few weeks later. There house was exactly the same and so painfully different. It gave her a headache. Everything around her made her feel like she was reaching for the life she used to have—the life she’d taken for granted.

Sokka tried to act like everything was the same. Katara appreciated the effort, but not even his jokes could make her laugh. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really be able to laugh again. She was stuck in a doldrum and didn’t have the tools to navigate out.

They didn’t let her return to school. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t leave the house on her own, she was in no condition to get from class to class. Even if she could, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the way people would look at her now.

Still, no matter how beaten and depressed she was, she wasn’t going to let herself fall behind academically. Especially now that it felt like that was the only thing she had left. The day she got home she emailed her teachers. They’d already been informed about her situation—the whole school had been. She explained that she was more than capable of keeping up with the work and asked them to send all homework home with Sokka.

The response she was met with was upsetting to say the least.

“They think I need to rest,” she complained to Zuko when he showed up at her house that afternoon.

He hadn’t said he was going to. She hadn’t asked him to either. They’d just both silently known that this was what they were doing now. She ignored how it made her feel. She’d already given up on that.

A dark look came over his face, then he nodded.

“I’ll take care of it,” he informed her.

The next day he showed up with a pile of homework for the weeks worth of classes she’d missed. When she asked how he’d managed that, he just shrugged. Given he was still in school, it was unlikely he’d threatened her teachers. Then again, this was Zuko.

He helped her catch up. He lent her the notes he took each day for the handful of classes they shared, and helped her try to make sense of the assignments for the ones they didn’t. She tried to see this as a challenge to overcome. She liked challenges, but not being able to type at her usual speed or even pick up a pencil was getting harder and harder to deal with.

She wanted to say that her arms felt like dead weight on the armrests of her wheelchair, but they didn’t feel like anything. Every time she needed someone to pick something up for her, to help her get from room to room and task to task, it was another reminder that she wasn’t the same. She couldn’t be her own hands, she needed other people to do simple mundane things that used to be thoughtless.

Frustration used to motivate her, but this was suffocating.

Zuko couldn’t remember ever being this worried before. The girl sitting in front of him was so different from the vibrant, radiant one that had pulled him from his darkness. This wasn’t the hopeful, passionate Katara he’d met years ago. She was loosing who she was, and she wasn’t fighting to get it back. She let him help her with school and small day to day things, but she wasn’t letting him in. She wasn’t telling him she was in pain.

Katara had always been better at math than him. He took notes each lesson, but over the past year he’d gotten used to coming to her for help with it. Having the situation switched was difficult for both of them.

They were sitting at the desk in her room with a string of numbers neither of them could make sense of on the page in front of them. They were both irritated, both at the work and each other. He watched Katara narrow her eyes and purse her lips, trying to find another angle. He’d given up five minutes ago, but knew the second she said something was the second she’d snap at him.

He was pretty sure she was on the cusp of something when the pencil she’d been holding in her mouth to keep track of each number fell. It clattered to the ground loudly, shattering thesilent, built up tension. She closed her eyes.

“I’ll get it,” he told her.

“Don’t,” her voice cut through the space around them.

“It’s not a big deal,” he bent to pick up the pencil.

“Can you just stop?” She asked sharply.

“Stop helping you?” He asked back, because no matter how much he was trying he was still irritated.

“Just stop treating me like I’m made of glass,” she exclaimed.

Zuko took a breath.

“Katara, calm down,” he said softly.

"That is exactly what I’m talking about,” her tone darkened. “My life is gone. It’s gone, Zuko, and all anyone is doing is pitying me! None of you are looking at me like I’m the same person. I’m not. I’m someone I don’t even know, and I can’t do anything about it!”

There were tears in her eyes. He’d never seen her this frantic before. She was tipping over the edge. He was watching her fall.

“I’m weak now,” her voice broke. “I’m weak and hurt and it’s never going to go away.”

Zuko sat there and watched the bravest person he knew dissolve. Frustration melted into self pity, and that morphed into hopelessness. Even in the hospital—even after almost drowning—she’d never looked this out of rope.

“This isn’t like when my mom died, or when that administrator said I wasn’t smart enough to skip a grade,” she was looking at her motionless arms. “When I try to fight this it just gets worse, and times not gonna make that better. I have nothing left. You had to convince my teachers to let me keep up with school. I’m not gonna be able to move to college in a year. And we—”

Her eyes flickered to him now. The rest of that sentence didn’t leave her lips, and Zuko didn’t have it in him to hope for what it might have been.

“I’m suffocating,” she uttered. “And I don’t think it’s gonna get better.”

Zuko looked into the eyes that had once been full of an everlasting light. He looked at the girl he’d fallen in love with, and the friend who’d stayed by his side when he needed her. This was why all of that had happened. This moment was why he’d been thrown into Katara’s life.

“You’re an idiot,” he stated.

“Excuse me?” she blinked at him, shock more than offense displayed on her face.

“You heard me,” he crossed his arms. “You’re an idiot.”

“Zuko—”

"Do you remember when we first met?” He asked her.

“That doesn’t have anything to—”

“Do you remember?” He repeated.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Do you remember when my dad tried to burn my face off with a lighter and I called you?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And when I was going to go back to my house and you stopped me?” He went on. “When you made me call my uncle and tell him what was happening?”

“Yes, I remember everything,” her voice was laced with impatience and confusion.

“Every time I’ve been angry, and scared, and alone, you helped me.” He gave each word it’s full weight. “You stood by me when no one else would.”

“Zuko.”

“I’m not pitying you,” he told her. “I’m trying to be here for you, like you were for me.”

There was a flicker in her eyes. She was listening to him. He was reaching her.

“Did you ever see me as weak?” He asked her.

“What?”

“When I was living with my dad, and coming to school with bruises and red eyes, did you ever see me as weak?” What had been barely two years ago felt like ages now.

“No,” she answered. “Of course not.”

“How about ugly?” He questioned. “I mean half my face is scarred over, I’m not exactly good looking.”

“Stop it,” she muttered.

“I don’t see you differently,” he pressed. “I’m never going to. You’re smart, and vibrant, and you don’t take anything without a fight. You might not be able to throw a punch, but you still scare the shit out of me and I bet anyone who tries to get in your way.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Her voice was softer now. She was asking him for help. In her own way, she was telling him she needed it.

“What you do best,” he smiled at her. “Keep fighting.”

“I’m not getting better.” This was the first time he’d heard her say this with the full, terrifying meaning of it.

“Fine,” he said evenly. “Then be amazing without your arms.”

“It’s gonna be so hard,” she whispered.

“You’re Katara,” he gently nudged her shoulder. “You can do anything.”

“You really don’t have to help,” Zuko told Katara for what felt like the hundreth time.

“We’re almost done,” she shrugged dropping a box onto his new bed.

He was moving in with his uncle. He didn’t know where his sister was going, and he didn’t really have it in him to care. He was finally free of his father and the house that had kept him prisoner for fourteen years.

Zuko glanced at the mirror. The scarf he had draped over half of his face looked ridiculous, and the lack of depth perception wasn’t exactly making the job any easier. Still, it was better than seeing what he looked like now. It was better than Katara seeing that.

He reached for the box at his feet, but missed. He was going to get fed up with the lack of depth perception really quickly. Sighing to himself, he moved closer to pick it up.

“Just take it off.” Katara was still standing in the doorway, her eyes on him.

“It’s fine.” He was about to turn away from her, but like in the boy’s bathroom when she first forced her way into his life, she was across the room before he could blink.

Smoothly, she pulled the scarf off his face and dropped it on the bed. He winced. He’d made sure she didn’t see it in the hospital, but there was no way to hide his face from her now. He waited for her to recoil. He didn’t see how anyone couldn’t.

Then she was smiling a warm, bright, and completely genuine smile.

“I think there a three more boxes,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

She was beautiful, even—no, especially through the stubbornness.

Katara accepted that she was frustrated. She accepted that she was upset, and she was damaged, and what happened to her sucked. But Zuko was right. That didn’t have to stop her. She wasn’t going to let it.

She spent the next few days channeling the frustration. She took advantage of the free time that not going to school gave her, and started researching everything that the hospital hadn’t told her. She looked at research currently being done to find cures for paralysis. She learned more about why what was happening in her body was happening.

Purely on accident, she stumbled upon a disability activism page. That took her to forums, to documentation of protests and rallies. She found a community of people like her who were marked as damaged, but weren’t letting that stop them. She wasn’t alone. She was part of a fight so much bigger than her, and there were so many people ready to welcome her into their ranks.

There were ways for her to show who she was. There were ways for her to prove to everyone that this wasn’t going to stop her, and maybe someone like her would see her and realize the same thing about themselves.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she was motivated. She was ready to take on the world, and she wasn’t going to let anything knock her down.

It was very hard for Zuko not to grin when Katara ranted to him about the mistreatment of the rights of those with disabilities. This was the best sign he could have hoped for. This was the Katara he knew. She was energized, and pissed off, and ready to take on the world. She was doing better.

He could see the light seeping back into her. It would take a bit for it to be back to its full strength, but he knew that would happen. He knew her, and he knew the fire she was capable of. She was pulling herself out of the darkness, and he was there to support her journey.

It was only a month later, when Katara was getting ready to take the exams on content she’d only learned through him, that he realized something.

At the beach, before all of this had happened, he’d been so certain that she could do better than him. He’d thought he would drag her down, but maybe he was wrong. Nothing could drag her down, maybe she needed him not just as a support. Maybe she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Working up the courage was difficult. Part of him wanted to laugh, because after everything the both of them had been through he was positive that this was the most normal thing he’d ever been stressed out about. He called Aang and asked for advice. It wasn’t much help, but at least someone thought it was going to go smoothly for him.

There wasn’t anything particularly amazing about the day he chose. They were sitting at Katara’s desk. They’d decided that they were finished studying for the day, and were both fairly exhausted. The tiredness might have helped him work up the nerve.

“Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” He blurted. It sounded so unsure and juvenile. “As in a date.”

That made it worse. That made it so much worse. He was about to die of embarrassment, when he realized that she wasn’t answering. She looked surprised.

He messed up. Why had he thought that she’d see this coming? Why had he thought she’d want this? She was his best friend, she was his emotional support and he was supposed to be hers. This was crossing a line. Now she’d think that he’d only stuck by her because of this. How could he be this stupid?

“Yeah,” she finally said. Then a wide smile spread across her face. Then light filled the entire room. “I’d love to.”

He wanted to dance. He wanted to fly. This was the most elated he had ever felt, and he was going to explode.

“Are you sure?” Suddenly her face was full of conflict. He didn’t know how to answer, but she seemed to understand that. “I’m not normal anymore. Whatever this is gonna be, it can’t be a normal relationship.”

She didn’t think she was good enough for him. Katara didn’t think she was good enough for Zuko. He would have laughed if she didn’t look so serious.

“We were never going to have a normal relationship,” he stated.

She didn’t look convinced. For the first time, Zuko let himself drop his last wall. There wasn’t any going back now, he might as well be completely honest, and bare, and raw. He owed her that much.

“I love you,” he uttered. “I think I have for a long time. I love talking to you, and arguing with you, and being in the same room as you. I don’t give a damn about normal, I just want you.”

“I love you too,” her eyes were bright.

“We can fight the world together,” he declared. “Because I promise, I will stand by every mess you get yourself into, I don’t care how big it is."

“Shut up and kiss me,” she laughed.

Zuko didn’t need to be told twice. Gently, he pressed his lips against hers. She leaned into him. He cupped her face with his palm and let his other hand get lost in her beautiful hair. He loved her, and she loved him, and it didn’t matter what life had left to throw at them.

She had been there for him in his lowest moments, and he had been there for her in hers. Their future wasn’t going to be perfect, or conventional, or anything he knew how to predict. But he was certain it was going to be full of light.

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totalfanfreak · 7 years

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One of Three - Chapter 3

One of Three

Chapter Three – How the Braid Unraveled

They gave her directions to the restaurant, she could tell when she pulled up on the graveled lot that it was cozy, like a diner, a place where people went where they could get home cooking when they couldn’t get it at their actual home. She kept in a smile. It screamed a place for single men. The place was very busy inside, boisterous noises around the island to the bar, several of the men screaming at the television as whatever sport played on it. She continued to look around as the boys went to talk to the hostess at the podium, she could tell this wasn’t their first time here as they leant over the table with ease, talking to the girl who shoved them playfully as she laughed at whatever they said. They didn’t seem to have a problem with talking to people, comfortable and in their element when it came to chatting with whoever came in their path.

I used to be like that.

She had, she had been very in tune with people. Now she could hardly look at someone without thinking they had a hidden agenda against her. She looked back up seeing them turn to her, and the girl beamed at her too, until she saw Shepherd. It was second nature to her to bring him everywhere, and since she had stuck to only a choice few places to go those people had gotten used to seeing the dog by her side. Pulling up her purse, she began searching for her wallet, skimming through for the little ID card. She could hear the boys saying something to her, but she thrust the card at the girl, her hand shaking with nerves and a bit of shame. The girl’s eyes drifted to the card, her eyes widening with realization.

“Oh, oh, okay ma’am, come this way to be seated.”

She hiked her purse strap back up on her shoulder, she followed the girl, keeping her head tilted to the floor so the boys couldn’t catch her eye. They were placed in a booth near the window, and she took a place near the edge seat, facing towards the outside. They were still focused on her, but she felt herself relax, their laid back demeanor calming her.

“Care if we smoke, lass? Know this one didn’t think ta ask beforehand, but don’t wanta ruin yer appetite.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t mind, appreciate you asking though.”

Gif by memoriesinatrunk

They pulled the ashtray between them, both lighting up simultaneously. She kind of felt the urge to clap at that. Casting a look at her, Connor waved his hand to disperse the smoke that was wandering towards her.

“I’m fine, really.”

He nodded. “Hope I don’t offend ye, but yer not blind are ya, lass?”

She grinned. “I hope the DMV isn’t giving the blind licenses now. No…I’m epileptic. It’s not a big deal or anything. But since I developed it I always had a service dog with me, and I’ve gotten used to it. I like having Shep with me.”

Murphy nodded, his eyes tender. “Can tell he’s a good one, we weren’t meaning anyting by it, we’re just curious. So how long you had ‘im?”

She petted Shep, his head sitting on the vinyl seat. “Ten years, give or take a few months. He’s been a good friend.”

“He protect ye well?”

She looked through the smoke at Connor. “He does. Though I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”

The question had thrown her off, making her suspicious again. Why would someone need to know if the dog guarded her or not. But the chuckle that came with her answer released her tension.

“That’s good, all the shit happenin’ the last few months, a girl needs ta protect herself. Would it bother ye if we asked how you…err?”

The way he gestured and the shame in his eyes, she knew Connor was wondering about her ailment.

She shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t mind talking about it. It’s just the looks you get with it, I don’t like people to feel nervous around me, definitely not sorry for me. But it happened when I was about five we were staying at my grandparents’ house for the summer. Their house was by a lake, and we stayed by the water a lot. One day, I’m not even sure what my parents were doing but my brother and sister and I decided to play on the dock since the tide had rose. We kept seeing who could get in the most without leaving the dock. Well, my luck I fell in face first, and sunk like a rock, I ended up tangled up in some rope, and when I didn’t rise up my sister got my parents while my brother jumped in after me. He got me loose, but the lack of oxygen for so long it rewired my brain you could say and I started having seizures. But like I said I manage.”

She inhaled looking back up at them, and was a bit startled that there was no pity in their eyes but something of nostalgia, affection.

“Good ya had yer brother and sister, saved ye. Been a sad day if we didn’t get ta meetcha.”

She snorted making their smiles expand to grins. And she noted that they were the same as well. Yes, their looks were different, but the mannerism of it. The way their lips slowly parted spreading until all their teeth showed like a kid on their birthday, eyes lighting up as they crinkled on the sides. Happiness taking over their whole face. It was wonderful, and faltering.

Murphy flicked his ashes before pinning his gaze back on her. “Connor says you’re a triplet, yer brother and sister named after angle hierarchy as well?”

“Told ye, they’re named fer jewels. Ye never damn listen.”

“I fuckin’ listen, ye didn’t say nothin’ bout it.”

“Did so.”

“Níl tú nach raibh fucking. Tá sé tú ag iarraidh a dhéanamh dom breathnú cosúil le asal.”

(No you fucking didn't. It's you trying to make me look like an ass.)

“I don’t think you’re an ass.”

Murphy looked startled a minute while Connor chuckled. “Already forgot ye can understand us.”

“So what gems were you named after then?”

She smiled. “My mom was a gemologist, so she studied the uses and everything for all the jewels…it was actually supposed to be me and my brother so she had to come up on the spot for my sister, but Selene and Seraphine for Selenite and Seraphinite. Both gems were said to be used to communicate with angels, our poor brother got the worst of it though. He was named Sapphire, which was supposed to symbolize heaven and devotion to God.”

Both boys had started cackling before she finished and she couldn’t help but join them.

“Feel sorry for yer brother, how the hell yer ma could do that to him?”

She shrugged. “She thought it was unique. But when we were old enough he quickly shortened it to Sapph, and anyone who called him otherwise was likely to get beaten up for it.”

“Except yer ma and you girls?”

“Meh, mom and Selene were fine, but Sapp and me fight all the time. In case you thought I was demented it’s why I smile when you two go at it, I know it’s not anything mean or personal just something you do. It’s like a hug but with open hand slaps.”

They laughed again, nodding in agreement.

She grinned, her eyes then catching the smoke rings coming from Murphy’s mouth. “Oh, that’s neat.”

Gif by Katieshox

She let her finger poke through, changing the ring’s shape.

“All in de tongue, love.”

“All I can do with mine is roll my rs’s and make one of those clover things.”

Their brows lifted at that. “Well show us lass, we could use some good luck.”

She chortled shaking her head, glad to see the waitress coming. Giving their orders Connor ducked under the table before looking back at her.

“Ain’tcha goin’ to order for the pooch?”

“Oh, no, he’ll get his dinner when we get home.”

“Aww, come now, love, yer the one that said he’s why ye fetched me. He deserves a reward don’tcha think?”

She looked to Murphy who shrugged. “Told ye lass, I would’ve let him drown out there, though it’d be wrong to make him watch us eat with nothin’ for him.”

Lucky for her the place had hard boiled eggs so she got two for Shep as they settled down with their drinks.

“So ye ma works with gems and such, so what’s yer da do?”

So they hadn’t caught the past tense in her sentence. And her dad…she didn’t really want to talk about him at the moment.

“Oh, no, that’s enough about me. You boys tell me something about you, besides being too manly for umbrellas and having a knack for languages.”

Snubbing out the cigarette, Connor leaned closer to her. “Aye, and what would ye like to know lass?”

She shrugged. “Anything I guess, have you always lived in Boston? Do you like what you do? What’s your favorite thing to do? Anything.”

Murphy answered then. “Connor and I moved here around seven years ago, left Ireland with what we could carry on our backs.”

“Why’d you come here? Was there something you wanted to do or…?”

They both shrugged. “Seemed like what was right fer us. The American dream and all that, wanted ta see what the fuss was about over here. Knew Boston was full of the Irish so best settled down here, right? Got offered the job at the plant, make enough money to get a good place ta live and some to send off to our ma. S’good enough.”

Her stare softened. “That’s sweet that you take care of your mom like that. So you do like it here? Does it feel like home?”

Connor rubbed his face in thought. “Well now, don’t know how ta exactly explain that, nothin’s quite like Ireland, but yeah, it’s home…I guess anywhere is, ya know?”

She did know. She knew exactly. “Because you have each other, that’s what makes it home.”

They turned to each other before back to her, astonished glee in their eyes.

They answered her at the same time. “Exactly.”

She took a sip of her water before nodding. “I get it. I wish I could be with my brother and sister right now.”

“Why aren’tcha lass?”

She gulped on that, various emotions setting in.

Because I can’t.

She fiddled with the napkin ring, Shep feeling her discontent whimper as she patted him.

“I –“

Their food was brought over then, and she was glad not to have answered. Making herself busy by cutting up the egg for Shep before twiddling potatoes around her own plate. They were still waiting on her, expectant, their faces clear of judgement encouraging her to answer.

She pursed her lips, voice low to keep the trembling out. “We lost her, Selene, about a year and a half ago. We couldn’t protect her, and after a while Sapph thought he couldn’t protect me so he went on his own. I still hear from him but not as much as I’d like. I miss him. I miss them both.”

Every minute of every day I miss them.

It was quiet, and she started to look up when she felt herself surrounded on both sides. Her breath hitched when two pairs of arms wove around her. She lurched, surprised by so much contact, and yet so comforted, the familiarity welcomed.

Her ear was warmed by Murphy’s voice. “Couldn’t imagine goin’ through anything like that lass, you’re a brave one, no doubt on that. I might get aggravated by the stupid shit but I don’t know how I’d cope without him. Ye shouldn’t be alone though. And if ye need somebody…”

Her heart hammered, the fullness being too much. She wasn’t sure what they were offering to her, wasn’t sure if she even wanted anything from two people she just met, but she didn’t want to let go yet to be undone for so long, now being woven again, it felt joyous and torturous at the same time. Before long they pulled away, the warmth diminishing and giving her the chance to breathe again.

Licking her lips she looked at her plate. “Thank you.”

She sighed, not knowing why her hands wandered to her bag, Selene’s bag. Her hand clutching around a gaudy keychain that held a picture of them in it, she handed it to the boys. It was an unflattering picture of her, her face scrunched up with uninhibited laughter lying on her back with Selene collapsed on top of her with her own giggles, Sapph was next to them knees drawn up wanting to be angry but laughing in exasperation. She couldn’t remember how they had gotten in the exact position but Sapph had been dumb, putting his new cell phone in his back pocket and unaware, had fallen back to sit somewhere cracking the screen to pieces. All that money wasted her and Selene poked fun at him, the result being this, a friend taking the photo when they weren’t paying attention. Always the best pictures, the ones when you’re too caught up in the moment to care about everything else.

“I know we don’t look too much alike.”

They didn’t, but they did. Of course they weren’t identical, triplets hardly were, but they had similar features. They all had auburn hair from their mom, though Sera’s was the darkest borderline chestnut, Selene’s near a strawberry blonde and Sapph’s somewhere in the middle. They all had hazel eyes, courtesy of their father, green overtaking with hints of a golden brown surrounding it. Her and Selene looked more alike, both having something akin to cherub cheeks while Sapph’s had diminished as he grew older the cheekbones more prominent.

“Now, that’s a lie love, all three of ye have the same secret smile going there. Like ye have something ta tell but you ain’t goin’ to.”

She felt bad when they left, like she had put them out and through the ringer. She was glad to not go into too much detail on things but it was still enough to be off putting. Dropping them off at what she thought was a warehouse though they had assured her they lived there, they had both given her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek and she was sad and a little glad she wouldn’t be seeing them again.

#the boondock saints #boondock saints #connor macmanus #murphy macmanus #connor and murphy macmanus #norman reedus #sean patrick flanery #my ocs #chapter 3

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