#or if not ill at least make the first few days be purple focused like the first few days of mawrch were green | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spunky-89 · 3 years

Text

All Power (Kol Mikaelson x Female Reader)

A/N: Woo a new fic! Cause updating or finishing old WIPs is apparently not as cool. Also, this fic is a bit of a crossover from Teen Wolf, not anything like major, just some references and such.

Word Count: 1.8 k

Warnings: None that I can think of

The air was tense in the courtyard as Kol stood protectively in front of his lover, facing off against his pain-in-the-ass hybrid brother. Elijah stood between the two trying to keep them from tearing each other apart. Freya was off to the side holding herself, feeling guilty for starting this disagreement.

“You come anywhere near her Nik and I swear it will be the last thing you do.” Kol threatened.

“I don’t like liars, especially not in the house where my daughter sleeps,” Klaus growled.

“You really think I wouldn’t make sure that my girlfriend had no ill intent towards my niece? Do you think that low of me brother?”

“Enough, both of you,” Elijah spoke, turning slightly to look at his youngest brother and his lover. “Now, would you care to share what this ruckus is all about?”

“I don’t know, ask Nik.” Kol spat, rage in his eyes.

“You stand there and make me the bad guy when it is your pet human that is lying and has been her whole time with us.” Klaus proclaimed.

“And how do you know this Niklaus?” Elijah inquired.

“Because I sensed it,” Freya spoke up, moving closer to the brewing storm.

“Sensed what Freya?” Kol snapped, becoming more and more fed up with the current situation.

“Something… off,” She tried, struggling to find the words.

“You need to do better than that sister, or else this is a waste of time because you have no grounds to accuse my girlfriend of anything.”

“Enough.” The woman came out from her position behind Kol and came to stand next to him. “Please just stop, all of you.” She requested.

“Darling?” Kol gave her a questioning look and she gave a heavy sigh.

“She isn’t wrong, I’m not human,” She started, avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground. “Well, not entirely human I should say.” She then looked to Klaus, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sense it. I mean typically wolves have a sense for this sort of thing.” She remarked.

“Get to the point, my patients is waning fast,” Klaus warned. As he did so, Kol took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Okay, calm down. The short version is I’m a werewolf.” The woman stated plainly.

“You can’t be, you’ve never turned on a full moon,” Kol stated, looking to his girlfriend in confusion.

“That’s because I’m a different breed and I’ve learned to control it.” She then gave a bashful smile at him and said, “I also happen to have an amazing anchor that keeps me grounded.”

“That’s it,” Klaus growled and sped at the supposed werewolf and pinned her to the wall, his eyes glowing golden. “Who are you?”

She saw Kol move to intervene but she shot him a look to let her handle this. She smirked as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them to reveal her eyes were glowing a vibrant purple, wolfish features taking over her face slightly. And before Klaus could make a comment or move, she dug her claws deep into his side and rake them upwards, causing him to release her in shock. She used that moment to roundhouse kick him away from her.

“Who am I? Well, I’m someone you really don’t want to piss off.” She huffed, fixing her clothes.

Kol was looking at her wide-eyed, never having seen her like that before. He watched in fascination as her face shifted back to the one he loved so much, though the claws on her hands didn’t disappear.

While Kol was focused on her, she was focused on Klaus. She knew she just poked the sleeping bear, or well in this case wolf. She acted casual, but she was ready for a full-fledged brawl. She heard him let out a chuckle, and her heart went icy cold. She knew that kind of chuckle. It was the kind that told her she’d just pissed him off and he was amused by her attempt to hurt him.

“That was a neat trick, love,” He said as he stood back up to his regular height. “But you’ll have to do a lot better than that if you want to hurt me.” He growled as his eyes flared and he started to rush towards the woman. Before he could even get close Kol threw him to the other side of the courtyard.

“I told you Nik, not a hair.” He seethed, standing protectively in front of his girlfriend, who was now minorly terrified and clutched onto the back of his jacket.

“Maybe I should just go,” She murmured to Kol.

“Nonsense, you are still welcome here,” Elijah promised.

Klaus had gotten up and was getting ready to argue when Elijah cut him off.

“Why don’t we give the lady the benefit of the doubt. As it stands, if she had wanted to harm any of us she’s had ample opportunities to do so and has not. We shall hear her out before we jump to any more conclusions.” He stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Everyone was slow to move, but eventually, all were gathered in the seating area.

“What do you want to know?” The woman asked, practically perched in Kol’s lap.

“First off, how is there another breed of werewolf?” Elijah asked.

“Well, there’s actually a few. I’m from the French line of werewolves, whereas your brother is of the North American breed. As far as I know, the only other breed is English wolves. But there are many different shifters out there from many cultures. Kitsune, for example, come from Japan.” She explained as best as she could.

“How is it we’ve never heard of any other wolves or shifters before?” Freya asked.

“That I am unsure of, but I’ve met loads of different shifters and other creatures. Where I come from, it’s practically a beacon for supernaturals.”

“And you can control your shifts?” Kol piped up.

“Well for the most part. The way French wolves and shifters work is that you can shift at any time, not just on the full moon. But the full moon makes us more susceptible to turning. But for older wolves, it becomes easier to control your shifts. Whereas baby wolves tend to be much more at risk of turning uncontrollably.”

She then spent the next hour or so explaining the differences between the different wolf breeds and other supernatural creatures, although she never really explained what she was. It was actually Kol that brought up the question.

“Me? Well, I’m kinda a special case. I’m a werewolf, but well, an extremely rare one. It’s why I didn’t tell you who or what I was.” She explained, clearly nervous to reveal who she was. But with one squeeze of the hand from Kol, she sighed and started speaking, “I am the twin sister of Scott McCall, the True Alpha. I am his opposite in most cases which makes us an elite team that is nearly unbeatable. So I am what is called a Compliment Alpha. Part alpha, part beta, all power. It’s why my eyes are purple. It combines the red of an alpha’s eyes and the blue of a beta’s.” She explained, once again flashing her eyes.

“Does that satisfy you Nik? Or does she have to go through her life story before you trust her?” Kol asked, seemingly done with his girlfriend being interrogated.

“I swear to you I am no threat to your family. I didn’t even know of your existence until Kol revealed who and what he was. Vampires are kinda new territory for me. This is not some evil plot to harm you or any Mikaelson. You all have become my new pack, and you don’t hurt your own pack.” She swore.

“I shall allow you to stay, but be warned little wolf, I see even the slightest hint of your inevitable betrayal and I will end you and your brother.” Klaus threatened, but instead of being scared she just gave him a smile.

“I would expect nothing less.” She teased as she stood from the couch. “But just so you know, my old pack and I are hard to kill. Trust me, many have tried, yet here I am.”

Kol stood as well and took her hand as they left for her apartment on the other end of town. He pulled her close by her shoulder and kissed her head as they walked out of the compound.

-----------

When they finally made it back to her apartment, he could see her noticeably relax.

“I have to say, darling, I’ve never seen you kick ass before but I would love to see it again,” Kol murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid kisses on her neck. She giggled and tried to push him away.

“Stooop,” She whined as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Kol, unfortunately, refused to let her go and held her tighter as he relished in her laughter. Moments like this were his favorite because there was just joy in the air. All troubles forgotten and burdens lifted to make room for the contentment he felt when he was with her.

The two settled down on the couch and just sat cuddled up in silence for a while. Kol was the first to break it after about half an hour.

“Would you have ever told me?” He asked, looking down at his lover who suddenly seemed very interested in the couch.

She sighed and sat up. She hated this. She knew he would eventually ask this. And she dreaded it because she didn’t have a good answer. But she knew she had to give him something.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She started, “My identity and my secret is the reason why I ran here in the first place. The danger became too great for my brother and me to stay together. We had to separate, at least for a little while. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She paused as she recalled the day she had to say goodbye to her mother and brother. The physical pain she felt when she got on the plane without him. “I was scared.” she admitted, “I trust you, and I wanted to tell you so many times, but…”

“But what darling? Cm’on darling, I just want to know.”

“If my identity was found out, I would have had to leave again. Which would mean leaving you. And I couldn’t- I can’t lose you too. It would break me. Shatter me to a point that I would become volatile and dangerous to those who came across me. Because my heart’s been broken a few too many times for me to be able to come back from that.” She said quietly, not realizing that tears had begun to stream down her face.

Kol pulled her back into his arms and just held her.

“I swear to you my love, no one will keep me from you. Not even my brother.” He vowed.

#kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson oneshot #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson #the originals #teen wolf #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kinda au #werewolf

148 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA.

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave.

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?”

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable.

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed.

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend.

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially.

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid; when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that.

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks.

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras.

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man.

“You good?” His answer was predictable.

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands.

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other.

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end.

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything.

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away.

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph.

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt.

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his.

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing.

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else.

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

289 notes · View notes

magireco · 3 years

Note

Would love to hear more thoughts on how these girls have understandable teenage motivations (A+ tag analysis by the way)

1. Thank you!!!!!!

2. ALRIGHT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (shuffles my papers). i’ve gone off about homura’s motivations in depth before but i think it was only in dms/groupchats? anyways i’ll go in order with All the girls bc i think about this all the time as a teenager who grew up mentally ill and had their perceptions skewed because of it, and also i don’t think it’s talked about nearly enough for the others, at least on my blog... so, buckle up!!! this is REALLY LONG!!!!

3. i tried writing like, an individual thing for every member of the quintet all together in this one ask, but i ended up talking a little too much about homura and now i’m going to split up all the different analysis stuff for each character into the reblogs and work on it every so often! you’re free to kinda skim of course because i really did write a whole novel but here we go!! read under the cut. :3 this is literally essay length btw. i did NOT expect it to get this long but if you want to read it all i’d recommend it but i don’t expect most people to

First: Homura Akemi

okay so i’m going to kind of summarize everything but from the perspective of empathizing with her so if you don’t want to reread a whole recap you can skip to the ending few paragraphs

Summary

first of all, in episode 10, homura’s past is explained for the viewer. she was a shy, unsure girl who had been bedridden for a long time. she was clearly unsocialized, not to mention she went to a catholic school and those can be brutal, esp in japan... that’s all we know about her in that episode, but it’s revealed in one of the drama cds that she was bullied as a child(& further at mitakihara middle), her parents never were mentioned ever (i assume them to either be dead or neglectful, considering she lives alone and unchecked), and in magia record, homura says to natsuki that she’s never had friends before, she hasn’t been on vacation before until the beachside bonds event, hasn’t ever celebrated valentine’s day, has never celebrated new years, etc...

clearly, she’s missed out on a lot not only because of her sickness and hospitalization, but because of her isolation as a child at school. judging by her demeanor and the way she reacts when madoka comes up to her without being asked to, something like that had never happened to her before. it’s clear to me that madoka was many of homura’s “first’s”, her first friend, the first person who reached out to her, the first person to compliment her name honestly(validating her, disproving her dislike of her name), the first person to regard her so kindly rather than judging her based off of her appearance and demeanor (like other students had apparently done, this is also shown when the other students at mitakihara middle make fun of her for being tired after only being able to run one lap). AND, madoka (and mami, but homura knew madoka better at that time) saved her life, even though homura was so willing to die, just in that moment... i’d assume it made homura feel like someone believed in her even when she was at her worst. it’s really clear by the glimmer in her eyes that these are nice people that made her feel happy and welcome... and then walpurgisnacht came. she didn’t know much about magical girls and just believed in madoka and mami to be able to defeat the witch because she saw them as strong and saw the witch as defeatable, despite its size. and then mami died, right in front of her and madoka...

this kinda seems headcanon-y when i phrase it this way but it’s practically proven in her actions but i really think homura is scared to be abandoned, especially by someone who was as overtly kind and nonjudgemental to her as madoka... it’s in the way she cries her name and says “don’t go” before madoka runs away to fight walpurgisnacht. OH ALSO, i need to address this one thing really quick because people like to assume that homura didn’t care about mami from the beginning and only liked madoka. it’s not that she wasn’t sad when mami died, she was clearly terrified and didn’t want the same to happen to madoka, also mami LITERALLY WASN’T IN HER CLASS OR HER GRADE so i assume she spent most of her time with madoka considering they were in the same grade and class and probably shared most of their periods with each other... but also, once again, mami is older than both of them and homura probably saw her as more of a mentor/teacher that she needed to impress rather than madoka who was more on her level, i guess?

anyways, moving on... homura had to see madoka die (& experience the crushing guilt she felt for “letting madoka go” even though there was nothing she could’ve done) and literally says “i’d rather you had lived than saved someone like me” ... her self worth is below zero. she makes her wish to be strong enough to protect madoka(because she sees madoka, her first friend, who saved her life which she felt had no worth, as so strong and noble) which causes her to go back in time, etc. etc., you know the deal. okay before i move on to talk a little more abt the timelines and the personality change i’m going to address why it’s reasonable that she’d be attached to madoka.

i mentioned before that homura said herself that she had never had a friend before. just like, put yourself into her shoes for a second. this girl has no idea how to make friends; it was never taught to her. it’s literally rational that she’d get attached to her first ever friendship. it’s not “normal” the way she views madoka, but how could it be? this is her first time having a friend, she’s afraid of being abandoned by her, but she’s had to see her die over and over again anyway. she doesn’t want to lose madoka. even if she doesn’t go about it in the right way, there’s no way she would’ve actually known how to Do relationships. no one taught her. i think that needs to be empathized with more...

i kinda feel like i need to summarize all this just bc if i word it right it kinda reminds you & puts into perspective just how terrible and scary all of this was.

anyway Again, i would skip straight to the end of timeline 3 (where a New Flavor of trauma is given to homura) but i need to first address timeline 2 for a second. it was homura’s first time repeating the timeline, she trained with madoka and mami again, she was still hopeful despite what happened, etc. kinda just bonding further with madoka Again... and then it’s at the end of this timeline that she watches madoka turn into a witch, just in front of her very eyes... and realizes the true fate of magical girls. when she resets the timeline again, it’s up to her to start anew and break the truth to the group when she sees them again. when she tries telling the truth, sayaka immediately shoves this aside, claiming homura was just trying to split everyone up. it’s clear that that hurts homura. (also the little shinies in her eyes were wavering which is anime-code for sad) her feelings were immediately disregarded by sayaka and she couldn’t defend herself, but madoka did for her, and mami tried to diffuse the situation.

after they all find out homura was right when sayaka turns into a witch, mami kills kyoko and ties up homura in her ribbons and aims a gun at her, and this, rightfully, ignited a fear within homura... madoka is forced to kill mami in order to save homura, leaving only the two of them to fight together. then, when walpurgisnacht comes that time, The Promise is made... madoka tells homura to go back in time and save her from becoming a witch (because she doesn’t want to curse the world that way, she still sees beauty in it) and homura agrees, saying she’ll never stop until she saves madoka, and then... homura has to mercy kill madoka before she becomes a witch. she cries loudly and shoots madoka’s soul gem... it’s literally so heartwrenching and (usually) brings the viewer to tears, or puts something into perspective for them...

then we assume the personality change happens in the timeline right after. this personality change causes a lot of discourse because sometimes it’s seen as kind of irrational, but personally, i think even moemura had at least SOME resent for the world around her considering what she’d been through. it’s madoka’s repeated deaths that finally push her over that edge. i could get further into the coolmura arc but that’d take a WHILE, so i’ll just kind of explain something briefly though -- why homura ended up becoming even MORE focused on madoka. and i’m also going to debunk the claim that homura doesn’t care about her other friends as fast as i can before moving on.

also, ONE LAST side tangent, for those that think homura really did do a 360 degree personality turn are wrong. it’s shown explicitly in homulilly’s labyrinth that there’s this... “core” homura, a shadowy purple silhouette with braids. every time the series depicts homura’s internal self, it’s always glasses+braids, symbolizing her “child” self, who she truly is. she never stopped being that person. she doesn’t want to kill. ...but i can get into that in a rebellion analysis later! this is also shown in wraith arc bc the person inside her soul gem has glasses+braids. anyway let’s get to the next part i’m going to rant about

Homura’s Love for Madoka, but Otherwise Apathy

homura has seen many different, yet all similar, versions of her friends. the first claim i’m going to talk about which i saw brought up quite a few times before is in regards to homura and mami. first of all, homura absolutely still cares for mami, and not just in the “i only care about your life if it affects madoka’s” way. one part that always gets me is when mami ties her up in the series timeline after homura frantically warns her that this witch isn’t normal, to which mami IMMEDIATELY brushes this off, without even giving homura a chance. then, when mami’s ribbons fade away, homura looks horrified and just goes “oh no...” and it’s kind of obvious to me that it was in response to mami’s death rather than madoka’s reaction. this is arguably up for debate i guess because i’ve seen different takes on that reaction and it’s ambiguous, i guess? but i’m about to get into something extremely similar and that’s the sayaka situation, where madoka throws sayaka’s soul gem onto a moving car. homura gasps and immediately pauses time and disappears, running in literal open traffic and climbing on top of a moving car to retrieve sayaka’s soul gem. one could argue that this is ALSO only just because homura wants to save madoka (and kyoko) the fear, but don’t you think her expression would be different? if homura truly didn’t care for sayaka’s wellbeing, wouldn’t she be making an expression more similar to like, “oh, this shit again...” instead of the frantic one she was making in the scene? this kind of thing Also happens when kyoko asks homura to leave while kyoko’s about to sacrifice herself in oktavia’s labyrinth, and homura looks up sadly at kyoko and then back down at madoka, and once she knew kyoko was dead, she just quietly said “kyoko...” to herself. she usually refers to them as [last name, first name], but she dropped that during that moment... it otherwise sounds like a bare minimum thing to do, but keep in mind the timeline we’re shown in the series is implied to be like, the 110th timeline, i think? like, this is the last timeline, she’s worn down, but she still does have empathy -- or at least sympathy -- for the others. she still loves them.

homura promised to be madoka’s protector, she dedicated her life to her, and also she doesn’t have a choice not to dedicate her life to her anymore, even though that’s not fair to her... homura is in a really hopeless situation and madoka is her hope, and madoka is the one that judges her the least out of the quintet (like saying “i’m sure homura is good” to herself) upon first impression. also okay i mentioned this already in my last post (which you saw) but i’m going to bring it up one more time, homura is not mentally 26!!!!!! she is still 14 mentally!! in order to be 26, you have to have experienced 26 years of new life experience. maybe you acquire that through school, maybe you aquire that through friends, whatever it takes. but homura just repeated the same month over and over, and it’s not like her body (canonically) ages ever. she just kind of gets transported back into her body in the hospital again considering she’s back wearing her braids and pajamas... so, yeah. no mental development there. i also mentioned this here but i’m gonna say it again, that just makes it even harder for her to actually age correctly... it stunts her to 14. imagine being 14 for 10-11 years...

In Defense Of My Own Claims

btw before you think i’m just going full-on radical homura apologist, i’m not explaining all of this to be like “homura made ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS because her trauma gave her an excuse!!” because like, Obviously, she did a lot of bad things, she killed people, did a lot of callous things, a lot of thoughtless things, a lot of things that make her seem emotionless, etc. but i just have trouble blaming her considering how things ended up, and it’s not like she enjoys killing people. she’s not sadistic... she ends up becoming short with all the others not only because of her (extremely) weakened trust in them, but also because the amount of times she repeated the timeline. i’d imagine it makes her feel like the others can’t truly die because she can just go back and see them again. (this is also why wraith arc/post-tv series must’ve been hard for her because she can no longer turn back time, things are permanent now, deaths are forever) she’s become so worn down that she’ll do anything to escape the loops... also considering she has no choice but to continue? although it shouldn’t be, it’s technically her job as a magical girl to defeat all witches and walpurgisnacht counts. it kills magical girls and tears up the whole city and she’s usually the only magical girl left... her choices, when defeated, are either to give up and die or to go back and try again, and she made a promise to her first ever friend to do just the latter... i just don’t understand how this isn’t easier for people to comprehend, that all of this trauma and stress and responsibility on top of an already traumatized 14 year old does not mix well. ever. she had to figure out all of this by herself.

TL;DR:

homura was a previously traumatized, unsocialized 14 year old with (very)low self esteem & self worth whose first friend (and first love, really, let’s be honest) died in front of her in horrific ways and she watched as she (and the other friends she came to make) drifted slowly apart from her in her endless and futile attempt in saving her from what proved to be an inescapable fate. also she’s 14 and also she’s (canonically) mentally ill and a lesbian. not a monster, not evil, not “psycho”. and that’s that!

#asks #luna-mistrunner #homura akemi #analysis #THIS MAY HABE TAKEN ME LIKE 2 DAYS ON AND OFF

94 notes · View notes

morimakesfanart · 3 years

Text

Sindria's Prophet #14

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

#magi prophet fanfic #magi fanfiction #magi fanfic #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbadxoc

39 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 5

Here it is! Ivar and Kari’s “date”....between friends of course.

Norwegian translations are via google, apologies if incorrect.

Warnings: swearing, Ivar being Ivar, sexual tension, fluff

Words: 8000

Series Masterlist

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Kari repeated to herself as she fixed her chocolate brown hair in the bathroom mirror. She hated how Ivar had manipulated her into going out with him, coming to her work and turning her class into participants in his scheme. Why couldn't he just let this go? Why did he have to keep injecting himself into her life?

She vehemently ignored the small part of her that enjoyed his attention. Sure, she found him attractive, he was gorgeous, there was no denying that. It did not help how her mind liked to vividly recall how intoxicating his kisses felt, how passionate his embrace was. Never had she had a man pursue her so intently; well really, any man pursue her in general. The conflicting emotions were warring within her mind. It was best if they did not interact, if he forgot about her and moved on…. for both of their sakes. The traitorous part of her heart that yearned for more, whispered beguilingly for her to just try.

She still hated his manipulation.

A loud banging on the front door jolted her from her thoughts. She raced back to her room to see a luxury Mercedes car parked in front of the driveway. This was it. Her breath hitched in her throat. Was she really doing this? A second pounding on the door forced her to move. Snatching her purse off her bed, she made her way down the stairs and opened the front door.

Only for her jaw to drop.

There stood Ivar dressed in a designer black suit and white shirt, that complimented his body in all the right ways. His dark hair was braided back impeccably. One hand tapped on a dark metal cane by his side. He looked so deliciously suave and sophisticated; it was unfair. A runway or photoshoot seemed a more appropriate place for him instead of waiting for her at her front door. His blue eyes, even more striking in contrast to the dark colors of his suit, traced over her body with a severe scrutiny.

"You're not wearing that."

And that harsh statement was enough to rip her attention back from her ogling. She glanced down at her clothing, a nice pair of jeans and one of her favorite flowy blouses.

"What? You said dress nice."

He tapped his cane on the ground once, as he scoffed. "Yeah, not dress like you're going to a fucking outdoor festival."

"Well you didn't give me much information to work with." She retorted, already fed up with his attitude. It was his fault she was unaware to dress like they were going to some black-tie event. Since agreeing to this ill-conceived date, she had been on edge; and now him throwing this in her face, even more solidified this was a bad idea.

"Right, let's go." He started past her, heading towards the stairs.

"Wait, what?"

He looked at her over his shoulder and stated-as if it explained everything in the world, "I told you, you're not wearing that." Turning back, he began ascending the staircase.

She groaned, shutting the front door, and pressed her forehead against it. What had she done in a past life to deserve this? If she walked out of her front door and disappeared, how long would it take for him to notice? The idea was tempting.

The thumping of his footsteps and cane up the stairs preceded his voice yelling down, "left or right?"

"Right!" She called back, then realized he was heading to her bedroom alone. She scurried towards the stairs and up them to enter her room just as Ivar stood in front of her closet.

"Do you own anything that isn't fucking athletic clothing?" He waved a hand at her wardrobe like it personally offended him.

She gestured to the clothing on her body.

"Right. We're going to fix that." He said as if to himself before diving into her closet.

Unsure what to do, she sat on the edge of her bed watching the scene unfold before her. Any other time this might have been amusing to witness. Ivar pushed around the clothing on the hangers, opening a couple of the drawers before returning back to the hanging clothes. The whole time she noticed, even as he muttered to himself, he was never rough with her stuff, nor was he delicate either but he seemed to take care of how he handled her things.

"This." He pulled out a dress after a couple of minutes, holding it up on the hanger. The dress was something she had bought spur of the moment when she first moved here as a treat to herself but never actually had a reason to wear it. It was a rich purple, off-the-shoulder, high-low skater dress that she loved. On more than one occasion she pulled it out just to admire it and hope one day to have a reason to wear it. It was most likely the only thing she owned that could pretend to be black-tie appropriate, even if it fell woefully short.

"Come on, we don't have all day." He shook the hanger, holding it out towards her.

She pursed her lips in annoyance but snatched the dress from him. Wordlessly, she went to the bathroom attached to her room, making sure to lock the door behind her. Changing into the dress, she reminded herself she just had to make it through tonight. He would realize how boring and uninteresting she was and then she would never hear from him again.

Once changed, she tried to touch up her make-up better. Adding some eyeliner and darker eyeshadow, she only added a gloss to her lips to finish it off. Make-up and fashion had never been something she excelled at but she could hold her own. Luckily, she had painted her nails a shimmery silver so they matched her attire.

With one last look in the mirror, she gave herself an approving nod. Her blue-green eyes popped with the enhancement around them, the bit of blush and bronzer made her cheekbones sharpen and her lips looked fuller and shiny due to the gloss. The dress itself flattered her nicely, emphasizing her small waist and toned legs. She ran her hands over her sides, loving the soft feel of the material. At least she had the chance to finally wear the dress.

"Here goes nothing."

Opening the bathroom door, she was surprised to see him seated on the end of her bed, typing away on his phone. "Shoes and jewelry are on your table." He said without looking up.

A small table sat shoved into the corner of her room, her bed taking up most of the space. On it was the small jewelry box she owned, along with her aloe vera plant and a couple of small succulents. Laying out on the table was one of her few expensive necklaces she had brought with her when she moved, and it was one of the most sentimental. Reverently, she put it on, running her hand over the small diamond pendant hanging on the dainty, silver chain. It matched the small diamond earrings she always wore. A gift set from her grandmother.

"Who taught you fashion? Most guys are hopeless." She jabbed, as she slipped on the slender, black heels that he set out for her. She had forgotten she owned them. He must have dug into the recesses of her closet, a terrifying thought.

Either he ignored her tone or was not paying attention, as he was still focused on his phone. "You spend enough time with my mother, you begin to pick up useless information."

That answer she did not expect. She peered over at him, still staring down, and smoothed down her dress once more. Nerves fluttered in her belly. Which was ridiculous since she did not really care what he thought of her appearance. Right?

"Alright." She announced. "Does this earn the highly esteemed Ivar's seal of approval?"

He rolled his head to the side, a sharp comment obviously on the tip of his tongue, but when his eyes locked on her…. he froze. A myriad of emotions flickered through his eyes before he blinked and swallowed thickly. "Come here." He commanded, holding a hand out to her.

There was a tenderness in his gaze that beckoned to her, even more than his words. In three strides she found herself taking his hand and standing in front of him, before she could rationalize her actions. It felt almost instinctual, like she was drawn to him without conscious effort. Plus the way he gaped at her now, it was like he was admiring the rarest gem or most breathtaking natural phenomenon. The vulnerability in his admiring gaze caused her to look away, unnerved just by the sheer awe in his eyes; yet at the same time she had never felt so beautiful or safe.

"Vakker, kattungen min." He murmured, almost inaudibly.

"I don't know what that means." She whispered back, the air feeling heavy with something unnamed.

"I know."

"So…" She glanced at their hands, his thumb running lightly over her knuckles. "This alright?"

His gaze greedily trailed over her, taking in every curve and dip of her body. Then once his eyes met hers, he winked salaciously. "It's adequate."

Her jaw dropped for a second before she shook her head and laughed. "Well you dressed me. So, if it's only adequate, it's your fault."

"I didn't have any good material to work with." He let go of her hand, rising to his feet.

"You sound like a diva."

His heated gaze instantly transformed from sensual to threatening in an instant. "The fuck does that mean?" He sneered, looming over her.

"Not...nothing...I'm just teasing you."

Tension surrounded them, Kari had to physically restrain herself from squirming under the feel of it. It was terrifying how his demeanor could switch so drastically. How he could go from sweet to dangerous in the blink of an eye. Finally after a long moment, he huffed and turned away.

"Come on, we're going be late already."

Silently, she followed behind him, unsure of what to expect next. They headed out and into his vehicle, the driver taking off as soon as they were both seated.

The residual anger rolled off of him like encroaching mist, not sure if it would eventually dissipate or grow into a storm. So she watched the city pass by out the window, a place still both unknown and becoming familiar. After ten minutes, suddenly thick, calloused fingers hesitantly entwined with her slim ones. Peeking over, Ivar was also looking out of his window but his hand reached across the seat between them, his fingers gently holding hers. She wondered if this was his silent way of apologizing. Instead of pulling away like would have been the intelligent thing to do, they rode the rest of the way with their fingers entangled and a comfortable silence between them.

When they pulled up to the restaurant, she now understood why they were dressed so formal. She had heard about this place but never in her wildest dreams thought she would actually be eating here. Casa mia, Maggiore ranked in the top five most popular and most expensive restaurants in the city. To even get a table, it had to be booked months in advance. The Italian restaurant was legendary, catering an old-world theme while boasting the best chefs in the country. From what Kari overheard, all the praise was well-deserved.

She could only gape as she scooted out of her seat and took Ivar's hand to help guide her out, too distracted by the magnificent building and the shock they were eating here. Her head swiveled about, like a child in a candy store, trying to see everything. What appeared to be stone columns lined the short walk to the entrance. Once inside, the tantalizing aroma of garlic bread sticks, wine and savory meat blended together with underlying hints of seasonings to immediately make her mouth start watering. A small fountain bubbled in the front entrance, a peaceful sound amongst the dim noise of conversations. Ivy hung strategically around from more columns or baskets on the walls. Marble-esque statues decorated corners. The rich colors of the restaurant tied in beautifully with the stone and wood making the place feel like you stepped through a portal straight into Italy.

The two walked up to the host standing behind a podium.

"Two for Ivar Lothbrok."

The sharply-dressed man barely glanced down before he responded. "Ah, yes, thank you, sir. Follow me."

"Ivar, how did you get us in here on such short notice?" She quietly asked as she walked beside Ivar, not even realizing they were still holding hands, too caught up in staring at everything.

"I know the owner."

"Of course." She muttered, earning a playful wink from him.

They were led to a partially secluded table, which had a perfect view of the restaurant and the live instrumental band on a small stage.

She started towards the opposite side of the table, to sit across from Ivar but stopped when he said her name.

"Sit by me."

Tilting her head in confusion, she just shrugged it off and moved to sit next to him instead of across the table. Soon as she sat down, she was grateful. Now she faced the direction of the live band and the captivating mosaic on the far wall. Every time she turned around this place continued to astound her.

"Anything I start off for you, sir?" The host asked as Kari and Ivar settled into their plush seats.

"Yes," Ivar answered immediately, "we'll start with a bottle of the Fontodi 2017 Chianti Classico."

"Excellent choice, sir. I'll send your waitress with it in a moment."

As the host walked away, Kari turned to him. "This is…. this is too much, Ivar. Why did you bring me here?"

He shrugged, leaning back casually. "It's my favorite restaurant." Like that explained why he was prepared to spend a couple hundred dollars on their dinner.

"This feels like a date-date. I told you I was only going out as friends."

"Yeah, well I have expensive taste. So shut up about it and enjoy. I swear you'll be thanking me after you taste the food here."

Silence descended once again. As he scanned over the restaurant, she took the moment to stealthily appreciate how handsome he looked. His chiseled jawline, beguiling eyes and plump lower lip was enough to entice anyone; but his broad shoulders, strong upper body and toned stomach could make anyone swoon. Her mind drifted into wondering what he looked like bare chested, what his apparent muscles would feel like under her hands. Heat flooded her face and belly as she realized where her mind went. Friends, just friends, she tried to remind herself.

He must have caught onto her blatant ogling because he spoke to her without turning his head away from the band. "See something you like?"

Her face further inflamed, fiddling with the necklace as she tried to compose herself. To change the subject, she blurted out the first question that came to mind. "You said earlier, spending so much time with your mother, you picked up some fashion sense from her….is she….um…." Her question trailed off, not quite sure what she was trying to get at.

He studied her for a moment then returned to watching the band. "My grandmother, my mother's mother, was a fashion icon who wanted her daughter to follow in her footsteps. Instead my mother married my father. She still has connections in the fashion world but she focuses more on the hotel chain she and my father started."

"Aesir, right? Aesir Luxury Hotels?"

He nodded.

The cost for one night in those hotels was more than a down-payment on most houses. Only the wealthy and elite ever stayed in them because of their outrageous costs.

"Are you…. close….to your mother?"

He hesitated for a moment but she could visibly see his gaze and demeanor soften. "Yeah, I guess. She spent most of my childhood at my bedside or in a damn hospital. And when I wasn't bedridden from surgeries, she forced me to travel with her or be at her side because she didn't trust many people to "properly" take care of me. Floki and Helga were the only ones she truly felt confident in. Even father or my brothers, she would call almost every other hour to check in on me."

"I met Floki, didn't I? He has the head tattoos."

Ivar paused as the waitress returned with their bottle of wine. He waved her off when she went to pour it and quickly gave her their order, sending her away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I didn't get a chance to look at the menu." The brunette protested.

"Kitten, trust me. I know you'll like this." He said as he poured them both a glass of wine. "And yes, Floki has the head tattoos. He's been a friend of my father's since they were children, he's even more of an uncle to us than my actual Uncle Rollo."

"Oh, he seemed…. ah, nice?"

Ivar laughed loudly, startling an older couple at a nearby table. "He's a mad bastard, smoked too many herbs when he was younger but he's solid. I'd trust him with my life. I have on occasion. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you close to your family?"

"Not really. My father died in a car accident when I was five so I don't remember him much. My mother is…. she’s a complicated woman. We don't talk much. My grandmother was the one who really raised me. She was my safe to go to when I was a child." That was as close to the truth as she could get, every word honest but certainly missing a few important details.

He hummed, swirling his wine seeming deep in thought. After taking a sip, his eyes landed on her with an intensity that threatened to split her soul. "Is that why you moved out here from England?"

She froze, the glass just touching her lips.

"What?" He asked, eyes wide in innocence.

"What do you know?" She breathed out, mind frantically racing.

He answered her with a sly smirk, looking pleased with himself like the cat that caught the canary. "You moved here almost two years ago from a small village in England where you lived with your mother. You had top grades in school, played football for a few years while in school, tried to go to university but dropped out. Not too much later you moved here. Also, you have the worst fucking taste in music. Ed Sheeran? Adele? Could you be any more stereotypical?"

"How...how do you know that?"

"The security on your phone is pathetic. Even an amateur could hack it. Don't worry, I already ordered a new iPhone for you when it comes out in two weeks. The Playlists on your phone are fucking boring. And your Netflix account...remind me to introduce you to good movies and TV shows instead of that shit you've been watching."

"You…." Her words tumbled out as her mind refused to fully comprehend what he was admitting. "...you are unbelievable. You hacked my phone? You looked up information on me?"

He shrugged. "I always do that with anyone I meet."

"Ivar…. that’s…. that’s not ok."

"Why?"

"Because…. people deserve their privacy. I mean, if you wanted to know that information about me you could have asked, LIKE A NORMAL PERSON." She tugged on her earring as she looked away. Thankfully the information he got on her was only her cover. She made a mental note to thank Albus when they talked on the phone next. Still, if he could find all this out about her in a week…and he acted like there was nothing wrong with his behavior. She could tolerate many things but this, having her privacy invaded like this. She pushed her chair back and started to rise. "I think, I think I need to go."

"What are you talking about?" His voice dropped to a low, menacing tone, a sudden fire blazing in his eyes.

"Ivar, I like you for some reason, you're fun to talk to and you're interesting but this…. I don't know if I can be alright with it. You crossed a line and I think it's best if we stop talking now. I'm sorry. I'll get an Uber to take me home."

He seized her wrist in a firm grip just as she took a single step away. "Is this because I hacked your phone?" He sneered, only tightening his grip on her as she tried to tug her wrist away.

"Yes….and looked into my background." She sighed, holding his burning gaze. "That's just not…. that’s not normal behavior."

"It is in my family. We have to be careful who we get close to…. who we let in."

It was in his hushed tone, the way he made his answer sound like a confession that held her in place even more than his physical grip on her. Sincerity danced in his eyes, but also something more. Something far stronger and darker. Staring at him, the only word that came to mind was fear. Was he truly that terrified by the idea of her leaving? Although he tried to hide it behind the anger, it lurked just within view. That vulnerability she caught glimpses of, that drew her to him. How much of his instant rage was only a mask?

Then she thought about his response. Even if the answer did not completely pacify her, it kind of made sense. Was his family even able to fully trust people or did they constantly second guess their motives?

His eyes dropped to their hands, his grip loosening marginally. "If I promise not to do it again, will you sit back down?"

When she did not respond, he looked back at her. She was never one for direct confrontation, but passive-aggressive, the silent treatment, she was a professional at. So she waited, pressing her lips together intentionally. He was the one continuously forcing himself into her life, manipulating her. If he did not want her to walk away right now, he was going to have to learn her boundaries. And abide by them. She was done fully playing by his rules only.

A voice in the back of her mind that sounded eerily like her roommate screamed at her, reminding her of the darker side of the Lothbrok reputation, particularly Ivar.

His words struggled to come out through his clenched teeth. "I promise not to hack into your phone or run anymore backgrounds on you unless I think it's absolutely necessary."

"Your definition of necessary is probably different than mine."

"Fuck. Fine. Unless I think you or someone else is in danger, that kind of necessary…. fucking happy now?" He released her, running his hand over his braids, and glaring in the direction of the live band as if plotting their murders.

"Thank you." She slowly settled back into her seat.

Ivar grabbed his wine glass and drank the whole thing in two gulps before reaching for more. Luckily the waitress returned with their food, setting a plate in front of each of them and a basket of breadsticks in the middle of the table.

"Oh gods. This looks delicious. What did you order?" She eyed the plate set before her, her senses overwhelmed with how utterly mouth-watering it smelled.

"You have Pansotti Alla Genovese."

Without another word she took a bite of her pasta and practically moaned. She closed her eyes as she let the flavors settle on her tongue. There was no doubt, whatever was in this pasta was pure magic. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Ivar staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes, and she did not think food would satisfy that appetite. It made a warmth curl in her belly and a flush rise to her skin.

"What?"

He blinked. "Nothing." He abruptly dropped his gaze down and started to cut the meat on his plate.

"What did you order?"

"Osso buco alla Milanese."

"It looks good." She lightly commented, taking another bite of her pasta. Maybe the chefs were all wizards here, that's how the food tasted so good. Forget the train platform, the kitchen here was the secret entrance to Hogwarts.

"Want to try?"

She almost choked on her food. Chewing quickly, she took a sip of her rich wine before speaking. "Excuse me?"

"Open your mouth."

She just stared at him.

"Come on, kattungen." He cut a small piece of the meat and speared his fork with it. A mischievous smile on his face, he held it close to her lips. "Trust me."

It smelled divine whatever it was, so she opened her mouth and allowed him to feed her. Soon as it touched her tongue, her eyes involuntarily closed again.

"Mmm…. that’s amazing."

"I told you to trust me." He winked, putting a bite into his own mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. So, you know all about my favorite artists and movies. Are you going to tell me about yours?"

"You know, you asking me all these questions is really starting to sound like a first date. You sure we aren't on a real date and you're just saying…."

She reached over and swatted his arm. "Unbelievable. Now answer my question."

It took a tense minute before he really started talking but before she knew it, she was regaled with a comparison of heavy metal bands, the ones he liked and disliked plus some rock bands he listened to. Several jabs were made at his brothers and some of their choices of music. Next they easily slid into comparing movies, him continuously making fun of her love of animated movies. The rest of the dinner flew by as they talked effortlessly, never a dull or awkward moment in their conversation. It was completely different from how tense everything started, it almost felt like two separate dates…. between friends.

All too soon they were walking out of the restaurant. The air was still warm from the late summer, even as the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. People still wandered along the stretch of businesses. The loud thumping from a nearby club intermingled with the sounds of cars and pedestrians.

Before they left the table, Ivar had called his driver. Now the luxury car waited for them just off the main sidewalk. As they approached, her gait began to slow down.

"Do we, um, never mind." She started then changed her mind last minute, hurrying the extra steps to catch up with him.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing really, let's go."

"Kari," he stopped her with a hand on her arm, uncaring of the people that had to swerve around them as the two stood in the middle of the sidewalk. "Just tell me."

"Do you have to take me home now? I mean, I get it if you need to leave so you can sleep and be ready for work or whatever you do."

"No, no, I don't have to drop you off yet. What do you want to do? I mean if you want to go back to my place and take advantage of me, I did drink more than you so…."

"Stop it. I take it back. I want to go home now!"

As she tried to step away, he dropped his cane to grab both of her wrists, pulling her closer and placing them on his chest. "Tell me." He commanded gently, looking down at her with those bright eyes that pierced her soul.

"It's stupid." She mumbled, fiddling with the lapels of his suit jacket.

"For fuck's sake, just tell me."

"Alright." Although she hesitated a moment longer, the words slipped out hesitantly, like she expected him to laugh at her when finished. "There's this ice cream place around the corner I've always wanted to go to. All the flavors are named after famous art pieces."

"Masterpiece. That's the place?" He clarified, head cocked to the side.

"Yes…"

"You want to go out for ice cream?"

"Yes?"

He was quiet long enough for Kari to start to fidget out of nervousness, then a bark of laughter erupted from him with a broad grin on his face. "Fuck it. Why not? I don't think I've been out for ice cream since I was four."

"Well all the more reason to go. See I'm doing you a favor."

"Shut up. Stay right here." He snarked without malice, then picked up his cane and headed over to tell their driver about the change of plans. After quick instructions, he walked back over to where he left Kari on the sidewalk. "He'll meet us there. Come on."

She did not complain when he wrapped an arm around her waist as they started in the direction of the ice cream parlor. Instead she slipped her arm around him, too happy to be going somewhere she had only dreamed about. Of course the place was expensive, just based on its location that was evident, but she would have felt weird going alone. Plus, she did not have anyone she felt comfortable asking. Alana might have been willing but she was busy lately with her work and school. Gyda was the only other person Kari could think of that might go with her. The thought reminded Kari of how few friends she had here.

The parlor was everything she had hoped for. The interior looked like a high-class art studio. Various sized canvases hung along the exposed brick walls, the entire wall facing the street was a window. None of the chairs or tables fully matched giving an eclectic vibe. Classical music played in the background, only competing with the handful of other patrons in the parlor.

Not caring how childish she looked, she practically sprinted to the counter and pressed her face against the glass to see all the different flavors offered.

"Gods, how old are you, Kari?"

"This is ice cream! Age doesn't matter!"

They both scoured the many flavors, laughing at some of them and debating the merits of others. A couple comments were made about what they should try next time, which sent Kari's heart fluttering, even if she tried to not let it get to her head. Eventually after much deliberation, Kari ordered a cup of Girl With A Pearl Earring while Ivar chose The Garden of Earthly Delights.

Ivar paid, ignoring her insistence that she pay for herself this time. She thanked him, grabbing her cup and looking towards the tables. Only two tables were occupied, both pressed against the large window so there were plenty of spots to choose from. Ivar was finishing up the transaction when the patron standing in line behind them whispered loudly.

"Fucking move already. Your crippled ass is holding up the goddamn line."

Ivar whipped around without hesitation, his icy blue eyes overflowing with rage. "You want to fucking say that to my face?"

The man dressed in a light gray business suit glared at Ivar. He could not have been much older than Ivar or Kari but the way he sneered down at them gave the impression he thought he was more mature. "Are you done yet? Just move, if you're able to."

Without a word, Ivar took a menacing step forward, twisting the top of his cane with his hand. Immediately, Kari crowded Ivar's side, grabbing his face with both of her hands, forcing him to look at her. The snarl on his face and the wrath in his eyes terrified her, promising blood to be spilled.

"He's not worth it." She cooed, trying to put out the raging fire in him. "We're having fun, ok? Just ignore him."

He took several deep breaths, the tremble in his body dissipating with each second as his eyes bored into hers, before giving a faint nod. That fury lingered under the surface, just waiting for a spark to set it off. Kari slowly moved her hands away but not before caressing his cheeks, hoping to instill some sort of calm. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments under her touch, tipping his head to lay his head in her hand for a second.

After Ivar straightened, he looked back at the man. "You're fucking lucky, if she hadn't said something you'd be in for the ass-whooping of your life."

"I'm so scared." The man mocked, rolling his eyes. "Are you fucking done yet?"

Kari turned back to the man, having grabbed her ice cream cup quickly off the counter. "We'll be out of your way, I'm so sorry…. oops." She "accidentally" tossed the ice cream cup onto the front of the man's suit. The cream-colored ice cream slid down his gray suit, to start dripping on his shiny leather shoes.

"You bitch! Do you know what you've done?!" He screamed, hands frantically waving.

"I'm so sorry. Would you like me to grab some napkins?" She asked with a sickly-sweet tone.

Before the man could say another word, Ivar raised his cane to press the end against the man's chest. "You better take care of that before it stains."

If looks could kill, Kari and Ivar would have dropped dead. The man glared and muttered curses under his breath as he stormed out of the parlor.

Kari looked over to the lady behind the counter. "Do you have a wash cloth and bucket? I can clean up the mess."

"Oh, don't worry about it. He's always an asshole. Honestly, this just made my night. Let me get you a new cup on the house."

Kari convinced Ivar to go choose a table for them as she waited for her new ice cream cup. While making small talk with the lady, and learning about a new seasonal flavor coming out soon, she noticed Ivar had picked a booth across from the large windows. After thanking the lady once more and grabbing her cup, Kari walked over to him, ice cream in one hand and purse in another.

"Thank you again for…." She started as she slid into the booth seat across from him but her voice trailed off as Ivar slid out from across and onto her bench. "Wha…"

Without warning, he wrapped an arm around her, clutching the back of her neck while the other hand cupped the side of her face. His lips descended on hers with a bruising kiss. She gasped at the unexpected action, which allowed him to deepen the kiss. It felt feverish and not appropriate for their surroundings. Her hands clung to the lapels of his suit, to keep herself upright under the onslaught of his delicious mouth.

"That was so fucking sexy." He mumbled as he switched to placing soft pecks against her lips.

"Ivar, stop…." She tried to lean away from him, to be able to think and breathe fully, but the grip he had on the back of her neck prevented it.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his erratic breathing matching her own. "Gods, you don't know what you just did. Fuck, kjære…. only family ever stands up for me, never...never anyone else."

Her heart broke at hearing that. She did not know what to say, so she cupped his face, stroking his sideburns as they both just breathed. This felt even more intimate than the kissing their swollen lips were evidence of. It was sweet and raw. No facades, no boundaries, just a moment of understanding and connection.

Eventually he stole another quick peck before leaning back. She knew she would have to address all the kisses but with what he just confessed, now did not seem the time.

Kari took a bite of her ice cream, both to distract herself and try to erase the feeling of his lips. "Wow, this is delicious." She gushed, eyes wide.

"What is yours?"

"Mmmm…. it’s praline, I think." She peeked at his cup. "What’s going on with yours? It looks like it's got a little bit of everything possible."

"Garden of Heavenly Delights. Just like me." He winked flirtatiously, scooping some onto his spoon.

She snorted, covering her mouth quickly.

He narrowed his eyes, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing…. just something caught in my throat."

"Yeah, and I was going to share with you. Changed my fucking mind now."

"Ivar, you are the best and are truly a delight! Anyone who says differently clearly has never met you! " She squealed, placing both hands over her heart and fluttered her lashes at him.

"That sounds much better. Open your mouth."

"No, I can…"

"The only way you are trying this is if I feed it to you. Your choice."

His ice cream looked amazing. She was not sure what exactly was in it, looking more like a conglomerate of all the best ice cream toppings mixed into the frozen ambrosia….and she really wanted to try it. He fed her back at the restaurant and nothing bad happened. This was just sharing food between friends, nothing special. At least, that's what she told herself.

"Fine." She opened her mouth and wearing a self-satisfied smirk, he gently stuck the spoon in. First the chocolate hit her tongue followed quickly by the caramel and the little bits of candy mixed in. "Oh, that is divine!" This time she did not even try to suppress the moan. Ice cream was a gift from the gods and no one could convince her otherwise.

"Told you, just like me." He winked and licked his lips.

Signing in mock annoyance, the way her lips curved upward teased of her amusement. "Alright, your turn." She stated, scooping up some of her ice cream and holding her spoon at his mouth.

He opened his mouth, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time as his lips and tongue worked the ice cream off the spoon. She bit her lower lip at the suggestive look he gave her, unable to tear her eyes away. It was a miracle their ice cream did not immediately melt from its close proximity to his blatantly heated look. Slowly she pulled her spoon back, only to scoop up some for herself to try and distract from the ache pooling between her legs. His gaze lingered on her; she could feel it even as she stared down at her cup.

"Tell me about your brothers." She said, not so subtly, trying to diffuse the growing heat between them and the way her mind kept creating images of tasting the ice cream off his tongue. The kisses he kept stealing were not helping her resolve and her stance as just friends.

"Why?" He asked with an incredulous look.

"Well, I already know Gyda. And I'm an only child, so call me curious."

"Nothing interesting to tell. They're all idiots."

She giggled. "They can't be that bad…. please?" She tried batting her lashes at him again, knowing she looked ridiculous but did not care.

He groaned, running a hand over his mouth, before speaking. "You met Bjorn. Him and Gyda are from my father's first marriage to Lagertha. Then there is Ubbe, the oldest, Hvitserk, and Sigurd."

"Do they all work with your family?"

"Why do you care?"

His sharp tone caught her off guard for a moment, but she kept her voice light. "It's interesting." She answered honestly.

Taking another bite of his ice cream, he surveyed around the parlor. There was no one sitting close by them. Only one other table was occupied now and it was almost across the dining area. Finally, he leaned back with a grimace, throwing his arm on the back of the booth, toying with the loose strands of her hair. "My father started Ragnarssons Trading but over the past few years he's slowly handing it out over to Bjorn. Fucking imbecile. If it wasn't for Torstein, Torvi, Hvitserk and Lagertha, Bjorn would drive the company to the ground."

"Why?" She desperately tried to ignore the way his thick fingers felt twirling her hair and just brushing through it. All of her muscles fought with the desire to relax into his touch, but she kept her back straight.

"He's better at social connections, traveling, meeting new vendors and creating trade agreements. The day-to-day running of the company, he sucks at."

"Wait…. Lagertha?" Her mind jumped back to the name previously mentioned. "She works for your father's company?"

"She heads the second office in Istanbul, though she focuses more on trade around the Mediterranean."

"Isn't that awkward? I mean, I guess they must still be friends, right?"

He shrugged but by the way his jaw tensed, she decided to drop the subject. There was a story there and it sounded full of drama. None of it was her business anyway.

"Ok, um, Hvitserk." She tried to get back on the subject. "I met him the other day too, right? What does he do?"

"He advises, but he helps head the finances also. Making sure father and Bjorn don't spend all the company money on huge parties."

"Ok, Sigurd?"

"Nothing useful…. wastes his days on music and women." Contempt laced his every word, shocking her but she pressed on.

"And the oldest?"

"Ubbe." He nodded. "He helps advise but mostly helps my mother run the hotels."

"And you? What do you do?"

"I'm hoping to do you."

"Oh gods! That was terrible." She laughed loudly, swatting at his chest. A genuine smile teased his lips and his eyes lit up, erasing the intensity he wore like a mantle. Seeing that, all she could do was stare. She had seen him angry, cocky, smug, charming and furious, but this look, an almost boyish sweetness peeking through made her heart swell. Silently, she decided it was her favorite look of his. It was like the dark clouds rolled back to reveal a sunny day. It was breath-taking.

If he noticed her gaping at him, he thankfully ignored it. "Security mostly." He replied indifferently, scooping up some ice cream with his left hand.

"I feel like there is a whole lot there you aren't telling me."

"Anyone tell you, you're damn nosey."

"I am not!" She gasped dramatically, but a smile quickly settled on her lips. "I just want to learn more about you."

He stared at her for a moment as if lost in thought, then rubbed a hand over his mouth before speaking. "I sometimes help my mother out but I do mostly contract stuff so I can make my own schedule."

"Do you like it?"

"I guess, I'm good at it." He tugged on her hair lightly, that sweet smile still on his face. "What about you? Why yoga?"

She thought about her answer, how best to articulate her feelings. "It was something that I did for me, you know? Back in England. When I moved out here…. if I had to work, I wanted to do something I enjoyed."

He hummed in understanding. "Your family did not approve?"

"My mother thought it was stupid. My grandmother was the only one who encouraged it. She was the one who would drive me to the yoga studio whenever I could go, even though it was an hour away."

"Sounds like she cared about you."

Kari felt her breath hitched for a second, emotions swirling in her chest at the memory of her grandmother. "She did." She softly said, dropping her gaze to the table.

"Done?" He asked after a quiet minute, both having finished their ice cream and now just sitting there talking.

"Yeah."

They disposed of their trash and walked out onto the sidewalk together. Ivar's car was parked just off to the side, the driver leaning against the car and smoking. The late summer's warmth still permeated in the air. Without a word, they slid into the Mercedes. With the ice cream settling in her stomach, Kari shivered once she got into it. The temperature difference was just enough to cause goose bumps to break out on her skin.

"Here." Ivar slipped off his jacket and laid it across her lap. Then, in an almost practiced move, he slung an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

"I'm fine." She grumbled, even as she made no indication to scoot away from him.

He chuckled, but made no sarcastic comment. They rode in silence for several minutes, cuddled together in the back seat and watched the city pass by under the starlit sky, before he spoke up.

"Are you glad you agreed to come out with me?"

Unable to help the slight jab at him, she muttered. "I didn't have much of a choice."

"You have more of a choice than you think." He whispered, barely audible even with her sitting next to him.

"What?"

"Nothing." He snapped, sounding suddenly defensive. "So?"

"I had fun. You aren't so bad to hang out with, I guess."

"Shut up."

She giggled at his mock annoyance, the smirk he was trying to suppress gave him away. Wordlessly, he tugged her closer, if that was even possible, and laid his head on top of hers. After they both drifted back into a comfortable silence.

The line of friendship she was trying so hard to maintain was blurring and she found herself struggling to try and fix it. Never had a man held her like this and she found herself unconsciously melting into his embrace. In his arms, she felt safe and warm. A fact that concerned her. This was Ivar Lothbrok, someone with a dark reputation for anger and violence, if you believed all the rumors. Cuddled up with him right now, she was not sure what she believed.

When they arrived at her place, she winced when she noticed Alana's car in the driveway. Hopefully her roommate was asleep or watching a movie in her room. Somewhere where Kari did not have to explain why she was dressed up fancy. There was no simple explanation she could conjure that would be believable.

Sitting up, she slipped Ivar's jacket off her lap and turned to say thank you but stopped when he cupped her cheek.

"I want to kiss you." He breathed out, staring at her like he was unsure if he wanted to worship or ravish her.

She tried to shift subtly, the blooming ache between her legs distracting. Teasing him, she purposefully kept her voice light. "Do you always kiss your friends?"

His lips twitched but he remained focused on her.

"Ivar…. we’re just friends. I told you. I can't be anything more."

"Samme det. Jeg har ikke tenkt å gi opp når som helst snart, kattungen min." The foreign language rolled off his tongue gracefully, as he rubbed his thumb along her cheek.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering a moment too long for it to be considered chaste. "I'll text you."

"Ok. Good night, Ivar."

She slid out of the car and walked to the front door, her skin tingling from the warmth of his body against hers. She waved at the dark vehicle before letting herself in.

Once she was finally in bed after taking a hot shower, she laid there for a long time, her time with Ivar replaying in her mind. Did she hate how Ivar manipulated her into going out with him? Yes. Did she actually enjoy her time with him? Yes. It was all so confusing. She repeatedly told herself she needed to stay away from him, it was better for their lives to diverge…. but he was making it hard to follow through with that conviction. The more she learned about him and spent time with him, the more she found herself not wanting to walk away. Even if it was the best thing to do.

She rolled over onto her stomach and pressed her face into the pillow. She had meant to get away from drama, to live simply and just enjoy life. That was why she had moved away in the first place. Now having Ivar inserting himself into her life, he was turning her life upside down. And she could not decide if she was truly upset about that or not.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #to call forth love #mzwrites

86 notes · View notes

beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Ten: A Train Whistle

A slightly shorter chapter this time, but hopefully short means sweet, maybe?

You can find the full chapter (along with all the others) on AO3 here :)

Thanks for reading!!

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

I couldn’t keep my eyes from the red stain on Chishiya’s hoodie as we entered the deserted shopping mall. He was walking and behaving just as usual, and his expression gave nothing away. Even when we had backed back to the park gates to collect the Two of Spades card, he hadn’t complained. But I knew he was in pain. He had to be.

‘We don’t have to do this,’ I repeated for the umpteenth time. My voice echoed through the empty mall. ‘I’ll go with someone else in my next game.’

He was strolling beside me, regarding the stores around us with boredom. ‘It doesn’t matter, since we’re already here.’

‘There might be a pharmacy in here somewhere.’ I chewed on my lip, struggling not to let my anxiety get the best of me. ‘Maybe if I find some medical supplies, I could bandage it up.’

‘I wouldn’t trust you to bandage up anything,’ he replied. ‘I’ve seen the state of your arm.’

Any offence I felt at that comment was pushed aside, as I chalked it up to him being irritable. My arm wasn’t too bad, was it? No matter. I had to find some way of keeping him from moving too much and aggravating his wound.

Spotting a bench between two large artificial flower beds, I suggested, ‘why don’t you sit over there? I’ll be super-duper quick.’

His eyes slid over to mine, with a look that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking. ‘Fine, but there’s no point in rushing.’ Then pulling out his headphones, he took a seat on the bench, leaned back and closed his eyes.

Leaving him there, I nervously flitted about between stores. Most of them had been plundered and looted by players, and others had been turned into hideouts, soon abandoned after their owners had died. But some were untouched, and it was these stores that I visited first. I snagged two hoodies for myself, one pale purple and the other a sea green, along with several t-shirts, socks, jean shorts, and a new pair of trainers, as mine were stained with algae and squelched with every step.

It was strange. In the previous world, I had never been able to justify spending money on branded clothes. In fact, I never would have even touched the sportswear section. But now, I never knew who or what I might have to outrun, and it seemed like the obvious choice.

I was on my way to leave, when I drifted past the menswear section and suddenly remembered that the soggy hoodie I was wearing was tinged brown by the pond water.

‘I want that one back.’

‘Sorry, Chishiya,’ I muttered, picturing his disapproval. ‘I’ll get you a new one anyway.’

I began sifting through the men’s clothing section, searching for one just like what I was wearing. Only I couldn’t find it.

Come on, there has to be something he would wear in here.

Then I spied a flash of white hidden in the rails and picked out a clean white hoodie, very similar to the one he usually wore. He didn’t strike me as someone who would go for bright colours.

Something like this would do, right?

Swiping two bags from behind the till, I tipped the clothes into them, taking care that Chishiya’s new hoodie was folded up neatly.

And then there was the question of swimwear. Hatter’s rule was both disgusting and ridiculous, but I couldn’t exactly refuse.

Slipping into another sportswear shop, I managed to find a few one-piece swimsuits that could function as a t-shirt if I wore them with shorts. But for good measure, I grabbed a bikini, too. One that wasn’t quite as stringy as some of the options at the Beach.

Right, that’s it! I was finally done. He’s probably wondering where I’ve gotten to.

I left the store and started back to where I had left Chishiya. As I passed by the deadened shopfronts and frozen mannequins, my mind drifted back to his behavior in the park. I understood that he followed me because he was an executive, and he was technically supposed to keep an eye on my performance. But the way he had grabbed me when we encountered the hunter… the way his arms had squeezed me painfully close. I just couldn’t figure him out. The man was like a closed book, with front and back covers that looked the same, even upside down. I didn’t even know where to begin reading him.

Yet my skin still tingled where it had been pressed against his own. I could still feel the ghost of his body heat, and every shudder that passed through him in the cold. It was disconcerting. Chishiya almost seemed like a god, but he was so very, very human.

Don’t think too hard about it, I told myself. He was probably just toying with me back there.

As I walked past a window, something caught my eye. A sparkle from a jewellery store. It was only small, but it was like a treasure trove filled with gems, gold and silver.

I glanced down the mall. A few minutes is fine, right? Just a few minutes.

This wasn’t just any jewellery store; it was the expensive kind. The kind I used to covet in the real world for all its gemstones and silverwork. Exploring the glass cabinets, I peered at the spectrum of crystals until one ring caught my eye. A pear-shaped drop of labradorite, set on either side by sterling silver flowers.

‘I see you’re enjoying your freedom away from the Beach.’

Chishiya’s voice sounded from the entrance. He was eyeing the jewellery around him with skepticism.

‘Sorry,’ I said, sheepish. ‘I got a bit distracted.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t care. Get whatever you want.’ He nodded at the ring. ‘Even that.’

‘I… I couldn’t.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, leaning against the wall, ‘though I didn’t take you for the materialistic type.’

Scowling at him, I mumbled, ‘it’s not like that at all.’

‘If it’s the idea of stealing that’s bothering you, it doesn’t make a difference. People murder each other every day.’

I felt the drip of blood tapping against my cheeks, and briefly closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the sensation had disappeared. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that jewellery isn’t just about the sparkly stuff?’

His eyes were focused on me with a quiet curiosity, although it no longer made me squirm.

When did I stop being bothered by it?

Looking at the labradorite ring, I tried to find the words to explain to him.

‘Back in the old world, I knew all about gemstones, the meanings of them, their histories, the legends,’ I told him, knowing he probably didn’t care. ‘Obviously, I’ve never really believed they cure illness or bring luck. I know it’s not possible, but they still felt pretty magical. I always hated diamonds though, since they just seem kind of soulless. But I always imagined…’ I trailed off, embarrassed. ‘It’s stupid, I know, but I always had this idea that if someone ever wanted to marry me, they’d choose a ring like this one, with a stone that has a meaning.’

I thought back to the teenage girl. Perhaps she had similar dreams. Maybe she had wanted to meet someone, get married, have children, grow old. And there was me, the murderer who wanted to fall in love. It was pathetic. When I glanced back to Chishiya, his eyes were closed as he rested against the wall.

Typical.

But just when I thought he hadn’t been listening to a word of what I’d said, he cracked an eye open. ‘It’s that level of naivety that’ll get you killed. I suppose you’ve got even more romantic ideas running around too.’

His words left me exposed. Vulnerable. But then I knew he was wrong about some things. I wasn’t completely naive, at least not in the way he was imagining.

‘Romance isn’t the same as love. Love is different.’

‘Love is for idiots with too much time on their hands,’ he said lazily.

‘No, romance is for idiots with too much time on their hands. Love isn’t nearly as obvious.’ I paused, thinking hard. ‘Have you read much by Haruki Murakami?’

‘He’s called Murakami Haruki over here, but no,’ he replied. ‘I haven’t. He’s not considered much of a literary figure in Japan. At least not by the critics.’

I smiled. ‘Perhaps not here, but the rest of the world thinks so.’

Thinking back over what I had read, I fished around for a specific title, but the name escaped me. ‘There’s a short story of his,’ I explained. ‘He compares the feeling of being in love to a train whistle.’

Chishiya looked at me with disinterest, but I could see something in his gaze. He was following along.

Even though it had been years since I first read it, I recalled the story vividly. ‘Imagine at night, you wake up and you have this sudden, horrible feeling that you could disappear at any moment. But at the same time, you feel you could explode. It’s that kind of emptiness that swallows you up. There’s no meaning to anything, and you no longer care whether you live or die. In fact, you don’t even know whether you’re really alive or dead at all. You’re just suffocating in nothingness.’

Chishiya turned fully toward me. ‘And?’

I gave him a smile. ‘And then you hear a train whistle. It’s far away, and the sound is so tiny you can hardly hear it. But it cuts through the isolation. You’re no longer floating as long as you can hear that whistle.’ I nodded to myself. ‘That’s love, at least to me. It sort of creeps up behind you, and by the time you realise it’s there, it’s too late. You’re already trapped.’

There was a moment of silence where he didn’t respond. Then he said, in the quietest voice possible, ‘how unpleasant.’

Things became awkward after that, and every attempt I made to strike up conversation was met with stiffness on Chishiya’s part. Slowly and silently, we began to head back to the Beach. The bags were uncomfortable to carry, but I didn’t want to ask Chishiya for a hand. Not with his injury. Even now, the blood stain on his clothes had grown bigger.

I suggested again that he should see An, but he dismissed the comment entirely. It was as if his mood had flipped, the amusement having drained out of him, leaving nothing but the cold.

We passed through derelict streets decorated with unlit signs and empty windows, until the Beach finally came into view in a cacophony of music, screams and spotlights. As I shuffled through a back entrance to avoid the crowds, I found that Chishiya had disappeared without a word, probably to his room, or perhaps even to find An. I still had the replacement hoodie I’d found for him, but it could wait until after he’d received medical aid.

I passed through the hotel halls, and turned a corner, almost bumping into Kuina. She was holding a drink in one hand, and her mouth stretched into a wide smile when she saw me.

‘I see you made it! How did it go?’ Leaning back, she assessed me from head to toe. ‘You look like you’ve been thrown into a swamp.’

‘Two of Spades, and you’re close. Chishiya made me swim in a pond.’ I said, stifling a yawn. ‘Where are you heading?’

She shook her glass, the ice tinkling. ‘The pool. Thought I’d live a little. Why don’t you join me? You look like you could use a drink.’

I shivered in my still-damp clothes. ‘Ah, it’s okay. I’ll pass for tonight,’ I said. ‘I’m really tired after the game. Plus, these clothes are icky.’

Kuina snickered. ‘You don’t say. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.’ With that, she disappeared down the hall, waving to me as she went.

Ducking away from the chaotic drunks in the hallways, I crawled all the way up to my room, before realising I had forgotten to ask Kuina about the hoodie, about why she never told me it belonged to Chishiya.

I’ll do it next time I see her. I’m too tired now.

Sighing, I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights as I dumped the bags of clothes onto the floor. After being drenched in pond water, I definitely needed a shower. But the combination of the Hunting Season game and the walk back through Tokyo had sapped all my energy.

Tomorrow, I can take a shower and wash the bed linen and Chishiya’s hoodie tomorrow. For now…

I curled up, still in my clothes, and slipped away into a quiet sleep. And for the first time since the Hearts game, I dreamt of nothing. Not the businessman’s starched collar… nor the cool twinge of gunmetal… or even the drip of blood against my eyelids; just blackness.

Outside, the shadows of hollow buildings blurred together into a vacant grey space. A cool wind blew through the alleyways, catching the edges of roof tiles, and slipping into a gentle whistle that rang through Tokyo at midnight.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #aib

76 notes · View notes

n3rdybird · 3 years

Text

Healing Touch

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Hamilton Lyric challenge! This story went through so many re-writes and changes, god I hope this mangled mess is okay, haha. My prompt was the line “My name’s been through a lot. I can take it.”

Vikings

HeahmundxReader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some blood, talk about Church, self-flagellation etc (referenced, not described in depth) suggestive language, oogling a man of the church (haha)

Gossip was always a funny thing in small villages. Perhaps you had not been thinking clear when you established your home on the edge of the holy town of Sherborn. Nestled in the woods near a stream, you were both close enough to the town to visit for supplies but far enough away that your arrival stirred up a bit of mystery.

As an unmarried woman with no known family, you already raised a few brows of the more prominent families. But it was your talent for herbalism that set most of the tongues wagging. The smallfolk were more pragmatic towards your skills. They could overlook your marital status if it meant well-made salves and tonic for their aches and illnesses. With their payments, usually traded goods that you could not make yourself, and the bounty of the forest, you rarely had any need to visit the town marketplace. Which only furthered the mystique around you.

When you did grace the town with your presence, most of the townsfolk gave you a wide berth, allowing you to shop in peace. Even the merchants seemed to deal in your favor, giving you more than was due for your wares. You heard the rumors. Half the town believed that you were a cunning woman and would bring misfortune to any who wronged you. The other half sang your praises, that you were even more skilled than the clergy.

So it was to your great surprise as you kneeled to rearrange your parcels in your basket that a shadow loomed over you. You glanced upward, schooling your features as you saw the Bishop of Sherborne himself, Heahmund, standing over you.

You nodded your head in greeting before standing, slinging your basket over your shoulder. The bishop was a popular man, known for his devotion to God as well as to the sword. And lesser-known, his propensity for women. Mostly gossip, but living as you had, you knew there was at least a kernel of truth to any rumor. His handsome face did not help, nor the way his stubble gave him a rakish air. He was a far cry from the average holy man, fat and week from a sedentary lifestyle.

“Your Grace,” you greeted and dipped into a shallow curtsey, giving the most powerful man in Sherborne due deference for his position.

“You know who I am?” he asked.

“Of course. One could scarcely live in Sherborne without knowing of its Bishop,” you answered.

He nodded in agreement, before gesturing for you to walk with him.

“Please allow me to escort you home if you are finished for the day,” he offered.

You had no intention of spending any considerable time with the church official, but you erred on the side of caution and walked in step next to him.

“I apologize for not making my acquaintance sooner, I meet most of my parishioners on Sundays for mass,” he said, keeping his eyes forward.

You hummed noncommittally, but inside, you blanched. Heahmund's statement seemed polite on the surface, but you knew he was angling for an answer to why you had yet to make an appearance in church. In all honesty, it wasn’t that you weren’t Christian. You were, in your own way. It was the idea that one had to go to church to be considered religious that you didn’t agree with. So you had to pick your words carefully.

“Well then I am pleased that I’ve had the chance to meet you today,” you said, avoiding the point about the church, focusing on his former words rather than the latter. Heahmund cut his eyes towards you, clearly noting your evasion.

“Quite.” His tone was sharp and you felt as if you failed an unknown test.

The conversation dwindled to Heahmund telling bits of history about the town or gesturing to points of interest as the two of you left town. You were glad when you walked past the boundary of Sherborne. You were used to the curious stares when you were alone, but with the Bishop as company, it seemed the gazes were amplified. The gossip mill would soon be in a frenzy. The path home took you past the open fields and into the shaded forest along a winding path.

“Living alone, so far from town, must worry you,” he noted.

“Why would I be worried?”

“Well a woman such as yourself, living alone. You would be far better protected living in town. Roaming bandits, animals, or even the occasional Viking incursion.”

“I worry as much as the next, I suppose, but living in town has never appealed to me. Not to mention it is easier to collect wild plants,” you explained.

“Yes, I’ve heard of your skills. Where did you learn?”

You paused your walk, noticing a crop of comfrey sprouting from the ground. You knelt in the dirt, brushing the purple buds with your fingertips. Too young. You’d have to wait a few more days to harvest. You stood up, wiping the dirt off your skirt. You glanced back at Heahmund who had stopped several paces away. He was watching you closely but looked away as soon as your gaze met his.

“Family mostly, I’ve never learned formally. I’ve found that there is much in nature that can help or hurt. It only takes a practiced hand to know the difference.”

Heahmund stiffened, his hand resting on his sword. His gaze turned to stone as he eyed you critically.

“And do you only heal? Or do you hurt? I admit this meeting was no coincidence. There have been rumors that reached my ears. Half the town believes you to be a cunning woman, a witch, and I do not suffer pagans under my watch.”

You swallowed. You shouldn’t have disregarded the gut feeling you had the moment he began speaking to you. If the Bishop found any fault in your words, he could kill you now and be firm in his belief that he was in the right in his duty as a man of God. There was no one around who could come to your aid, not that any would stand against the warrior.

“Do you deny it?”

“Perhaps you could tell me which rumors have graced your ears, so I may better defend myself.” The words you spoke were calm and confident, the complete opposite of how you were feeling. The sounds of the forest melted away and all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat as you tried to control your fear.

Heahmund tilted his head as if trying to suss out your guilt or innocence.

“‘Which’ rumors? You are aware of what people say about you?”

“My name’s been through a lot. I can take it. Women are always subjected to gossip, especially unmarried ones. I would be a fool to believe otherwise. I hardly see the point in trying to change someone’s opinion of me. People do not like to be wrong.”

“Lord Oswald has claimed that you hold dark influence over his daughter, causing her to act out and defy her father. And that you placed a curse upon him, causing illness.”

At the mention of the man, you clenched your fist. You had first met his daughter when she visited you, draped in a cloak to hide her face. The purple bruise that spread across her cheekbone like a wine stain caused your immediate hatred towards the man she called father. You may have let out a few choice curse words as you treated the abrasion and consoled the young woman.

“That man is a pig. I couldn't care less what he thought of me. As for his illness, perhaps he should be blaming his poor diet.”

“Lord Oswald is an upstanding and-”

“Upstanding? That man would sell his daughter to the vilest devil on earth if it meant he’d get more power!” You blurted the words out, angry that that man would be considered upstanding.

“His daughter is his by rights, and as such may marry her to a man of his choosing. That is the duty of daughters,” the Bishop intoned, repeating the words drilled into him by years of church teachings.

You scoffed at his words, biting back harsh curses. Duty, you’ve never cared for that word.

“Duty, what a hollow promise. Is it not a father’s duty to protect his daughter? And not to lay a hand on her in anger?”

Heahmund’s face softened at that particular bit of information.

“Did you place a curse on Oswald?” he asked again, his voice low and stern.

“I wouldn’t have to. That man will drink himself into an early grave,” you spat. You nodded to where his hand was still resting on the pommel of his sword.

“So what is your judgment? Is thinking a man worth less than a pile of shit enough to die? Or not congregating with hypocrites on Sunday who profess their goodness only to hit their wives or cheat on their husbands or sleep with clergymen? Are those my crimes?”

The last bit of course was aimed at the Bishop. He was taken aback by your words. He too knew the hypocrisy of humans, he had seen it firsthand in others and himself.

“Regardless of any sin committed, man can repent and ask forgiveness.” It was what he told himself every time he failed in his duty to God.

“But I am judged by the words of one man, and that’s enough to condemn me? And what of all the kind words said in my favor? Because they are from the smallfolk they aren’t as important? But as soon as someone with ‘prestige’ speaks horrible lies, you must come running to investigate. Like a trained hound set out by its masters.”

Dismissing the warrior bishop, you shook your head. Rigid, sanctimonious, and arrogant.

“If you are going to kill me, kill me. I do not wish to suffer your presence any longer.”

When Heahmund did not speak but removed his hand from his sword you gave him a terse nod.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, your Grace.”

Heahmund watched as you walked away, your skirts swishing behind you. You had spoken the truth. He had no interest in you until the upper echelon started their complaints. He was all but demanded to get to the bottom of it. As much as your words stung, you were correct. He could have denounced the hearsay as soon as they were spoken, owing to the fact that smallfolk all but revered you. So he bowed under the demands to keep his place secure.

You, however, were not what he expected. Young, unmarried, and striking. He thought you might be an older widow, with the talk of your skills. Instead he got you, a fiery, educated young woman, who wasn't afraid of speaking her mind. It was almost refreshing to have someone not fawn over him. Yes, you treated him with respect but did not trip over yourself to please him. You had no problem criticizing him.

He rubbed the pommel of his sword, worrying the raised designs with his thumb. You were interesting indeed.

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

After you left the bishop to mull over your words, you had hurried home, half expecting him to come after you and take you in for your supposed crimes. When he did not follow, your steps became shaky and you found yourself stumbling into the small cottage you called home. You flung the latch closed and leaned against the door, trying to regain your wits.

You had been accused of crimes, as untrue as they were. The Bishop himself was sent to investigate. And you had thrown a tantrum, insulting him and his life. The next few days you did not venture far from your home, fearing retribution. You debated leaving your home, going to another area. But you tired of running away. As the days passed, you breathed a little easier. No one had come to take you away, and the smallfolk continued to do business with you.

After a particularly grueling morning over a cookfire, and setting a poor child’s broken arm, you were exhausted. With the hot sun overhead, you plucked at your tunic as it stuck to your skin. A dip in the water would do nicely.

Gathering your satchel and clad in a lightweight chemise, you began your trek to your preferred bathing spot. A small bend in the river where the water calmed and you could bathe in relative peace.

Placing your bag within reach of the water, you glance around before unlacing your chemise, letting it fall to your feet. The water was cool, refreshing on your overheated skin. You ducked under the water, brushing your wet locks away from your face. You wiped the water from your eyes before reaching for your soap to wash away the grime of the morning.

“Perhaps you are not a witch, but a water nymph from Greek stories,” a familiar voice called out. You spun and stared gobsmacked at the bishop sitting near the edge of the water. You bristled at the nerve of him openly staring as you bathed.

“Shouldn’t a man of the cloth look away when a woman is bathing?” you retorted, wishing for the first time that the water was not so clear.

“Ah, but you have already judged me a hypocrite, would that not be proving you wrong?” he replied but turned his head away from you.

You grumbled, a bit irritated that he had thrown your own words back in your face. Making your way to the shore, you all but snatched your chemise with outstretched fingertips, and dressed with haste.

“Is there something you need, your Grace?” you huffed out, irritated that he had spoiled your bath. You grabbed your satchel, swinging it wildly over your shoulder, hitting his chest with the soft leather. You immediately dropped your pack in alarm when he hissed in pain.

“I came to apologize,” he said between clenched teeth. “Would that be amiable, or would you prefer to hit me with your bag again?”

The weight of your bag should not have caused him any pain, especially if it caused him to grit his teeth. You peeled back his tunic and gasped at the sight of several scratches adorning his chest. Though most were superficial, a few deep welts drug across the expanse of his skin.

“What on earth happened?”

Heahmund jerked away from your grip.

“It’s nothing to worry about," he said, brushing off your concern.

“I’d ask you not to lie to me. Take off your shirt.”

When he didn’t follow your command you rolled your eyes.

“Lord save me from bullheaded men,” you muttered, reaching for his shirt.

“You can either take off your shirt, or I will cut it off. It matters not to me what you choose.”

Heahmund raised a brow at your demands and pulled his tunic over his head with a grunt of pain. Kneeling in front of him, you tried to not ogle the Bishop as you took in his wounds. Most were already scabbed over, others dark with crusted blood. You curled your lip in dismay. You traced your fingers over his skin, the newer cuts crossing over old scars. Some of the deeper gashes were warm to the touch, a sign of infection. You looked up, his eyes watching your hand as it moved across his chest before looking at you.

You pulled your hand away, clucking in a scolding manner. Rifling through your pouch, you pulled out a strip of cloth and some salve. You dipped the cloth into the cool water, wringing out the excess before blotting at the wounds.

“You would think someone with your knowledge would know to treat cuts, no matter how trivial,” you said, as you washed the crusted blood away. “You look like you got in a fight with a cat,” you joked.

“Thorns actually,” he amended. When you looked at him confused, he clarified.

“My self-penance, along with asking for your forgiveness.”

You paused in your ministrations, horrified at the thought.

“You believe God would want you to harm yourself to seek forgiveness?”

“It brings me clarity, to better understand what path God wishes me to take.”

You shook your head before reaching for the salve.

“What is there to understand? God gave us free will, for us to make the choices in our lives. Maybe making mistakes is part of his plan?” you said softly, applying the paste with deft fingers.

“I fear I make too many mistakes, stumble too often in my path,” Heahmund confessed.

“You were right. About Oswald and the rumors. His daughter confirmed it in confession. She was quite worried about you when she heard I came to visit you.”

You shook your head, sighing. The last thing you wanted was to cause more trouble for the young girl.

“I hope you told her she was not at fault. I can take care of myself. Please tell her not to worry.”

He took your hand in his, his calloused fingertips running along yours. Your hand was calloused, but not from holding a sword. You had burn scars from hot pots, tiny cuts from mishaps with knives. Your hand that he had accused of witchcraft and misdeeds was the hand that wiped away his blood and applied medicine, something he did not deserve. A healing hand.

“Choices and mistakes shape our lives, make us who we are. My life brought me here, to Sherborne. As your choices brought you to me. It was your choice to let, rather than kill or imprison me, something I am grateful for,” you said matter of fact.

Heahmund laughed.

“We shall see if that works in my favor. Provided you didn’t poison me,” he said, nodding towards his chest.

You rolled your eyes and licked your fingertip, still coated in salve. Heahmund’s eyebrows jumped in surprise at your action.

“Well if it were poison, now I would die as well. So fear not your Grace, you should be on the mend quickly,” you jested with a smile. Heahmund returned your smile with one of his own. You felt your stomach flutter at the expression on his face, and the threat of a blush warmed your neck.

He brought your hand up to his lips and planted a warm slow kiss on the back of your knuckles. The rough brush of his stubble sent a zip of desire down your spine. This was dangerous. This was a mistake in the making. But you found yourself caring little as you stared into his eyes.

“Please, allow me to repay you.”

#vikings fanfic #heahmund x reader #star's hamilfilm lyric challenge #heahmund fanfic #vikings fanfiction #bishop heahmund

61 notes · View notes

angstyaches · 3 years

Text

I’ve Been Away Pt. 2

Part One

CW: anxiety, nausea, indigestion, hospital/nursing home setting, past death mention, degenerative illness, memory loss (dementia), loss of sight, family drama/issues very vaguely implied.

AN: I’ve been sitting on this for so long that everything is now obvious to me, and I’m sorry if it’s a lot more vague/confusing than I think it is. Hopefully Part Three will clear things up if so.

___

“Are you gonna go in?” Shayne asked quietly.

Felix swallowed thickly as the silence broke. He hadn’t even realised Shayne had woken up; he’d been sleeping since about thirty minutes after they’d left, and now it was four hours later.

“I am,” Felix said, trying to sound firm despite the queasy tremble in his voice. He stared out the windscreen at the pale orange building that ran in a semi-circle around the car park. The paint job looked fresh and clean, and the whole scene – even the car park – radiated a silence that reminded Felix of a graveyard. Even the pale blossoms that sprung from the bushes lining the pavement made him think of funeral flowers. He’d seen pictures of the place online, but actually being here felt… strange.

It was like he was stepping into a life that wasn’t his anymore.

He cringed at the sudden wrenching sensation in his gut. His stomach gave a low grumble as it shifted. He swallowed yet again, gently bringing the back of his hand to his mouth and stifling a weak burp that had crept up. He’d picked up indigestion tablets when he’d stopped to get petrol, but the chalky chunks hadn’t worked too effectively against the rising tide of stress in his belly.

“Did we drive here in silence just to sit here in more silence?”

Felix frowned at that. “We only drove in silence because you fell asleep.”

“Yeah, for about an hour.”

“You were awake for two hours and you didn’t say anything? You didn’t even ask where we were going.”

Shayne gave a lazy shrug. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”

Another uneasy belch rumbled in Felix’s belly. His shoulders moved forward slightly as it slipped up his throat. “Ugh. I really don’t feel well.”

Shayne gestured towards the main building. “I’m sure they’ve got a shit tonne of doctors inside. Wait, are we here to ask about checking Elliott in? He told me the other day that he’s almost seventy in human years, so it’s good that you’re thinking about where to stick him next.”

Felix sighed deeply, wishing he had the energy to deal with the joke, but the thought of Elliott only made his stomach and chest burn even more. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to go home and see his partner.

“Okay,” he said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and inhaling deeply. “Wish me luck, buddy. I’m going in.”

“Okay, bye, then.”

By the time the long breath was released from Felix’s lungs, his hands hadn’t left the steering wheel of the parked car.

“You’re still sitting there,” Shayne mumbled in a sing-song voice.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Felix replied, sticking a thumb nail between his teeth and biting down on it. He wondered with a shiver of fresh anxiety if he was actually thirsty; should he have packed one of his lollipops to tide him over? Was it even safe for him to go, unescorted, into a building where there were likely needles and blood bags and other such contraptions? Had he really done such a bad job of thinking this through?

Had coming here been a complete mistake?

“Felix…”

“Yes, I know, I’m going,” Felix insisted quietly, an uncertain hand rubbing at his belly.

“Jesus, are you okay, or what’s going on?”

“I’m fine, I’ve just got… a tad of stupid indigestion.” A slight flush of heat rose to Felix’s cheeks as he felt his stomach gurgle under his hand. “Happens when I’m nervous.”

Shayne clicked his tongue and reached across to undo his seatbelt. “God, if you’re this fucking worked up, what if I go inside with you?”

Felix raised his eyebrows. “Would you really?” he gushed softly.

“Please don’t make this weird and emotional.”

“I always knew you loved me, cuz.”

“Aw. It’s like you think I won’t punch you in the throat.”

___

At least Felix couldn’t have said that the place smelled like death; there was quite a pleasant, disinfectant smell from the moment they stepped through the doors. Well, maybe not pleasant, but it was at least reassuring. The floors were old – beige linoleum from the 90s, it seemed – but they glistened, all the way from the reception desk to the open-plan recreational space at the far side of the lobby. Felix could see at least six figures seated in armchairs, one of them being attended by a nurse while another was shaking a walking stick in the direction of a flat-screen TV.

He swallowed, blinking in surprise when he turned his head and someone had spotted them. Another nurse, a bit older than the one across the room.

“Hi!” the young nurse chirped, glancing at Shayne first, and then at Felix. “Are you here visiting someone?”

Felix’s grip on his documents and newspaper clippings tightened. He wished he’d put them in a folder instead of carrying it all around so conspicuously. His jaw was heavy and his throat was clenched. Yes, he thought, willing his lips to move. How had he forgotten how to form the word yes?!

“Yeah, we are,” Shayne piped up, his voice slightly higher to mimic the tone of the nurse’s.

“Great, what’s the name?”

This time, Felix knew he couldn’t cop out of giving an answer. Shayne could have been the most helpful person in the world, but he wasn’t a mind reader. Felix cleared his throat, swallowing a burning belch before it could burst out of his mouth. “Patri- Patricia Bramley.”

The nurse pursed their lips as they referred to a clipboard on the desk in front of them.

Felix swallowed, fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. “Trish,” he mumbled.

“Ah, Trish,” the nurse repeated with an air of recognition.

There was a beat of silence that Felix’s mind filled in with disturbing readiness; he braced himself for a look of discomfort or despair to cross the nurse’s face, and for them to gently explain that Trish had been dead for years; that she had wept every night out of loneliness until the loneliness ate so deeply into her heart that it gave out, and that whoever was responsible should –

“She’s actually in her room right now,” the nurse said, an easy smile crossing their face. “She might be sleeping, but if she’s awake, she’ll be very happy to see some visitors. Is one of you Avery, by any chance?”

The nurse’s gaze was more focused on Shayne as the question was asked, and Shayne quickly responded, “Uh, no.”

A panicked laugh burst past Felix’s lips, causing the nurse to throw him a confused look.

“Nephews, we’re – we’re Trish’s nephews,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he sounded. “I’m Felix, and this is Shayne.”

“Alright, well, come this way,” the nurse instructed, guiding them towards a hallway to the west of the communal area.

Felix glanced towards the gathering of recliner armchairs and end tables, momentarily drinking in the sound of daytime TV and murmured conversation, before his chest tightened all over again. There was a shakiness in his bones and an empty longing in the pit of his stomach, and he realised he was missing Elliott. All of this could have been so much easier if he’d had Elliott’s hand to hold onto, Elliott’s calming voice to reassure him, Elliott’s easy smile to turn to.

“I can’t remember the last time Trish had a visitor, so this is exciting! She’s going to be delighted. Do you live far away, or..?”

“Mmm, something like that,” Shayne was telling the nurse, meeting Felix’s gaze as he looked forward again. His eyebrows were pulled together, question marks basically jumping out the top of his head. Felix gave a nervous smile that he was sure looked more like a queasy grimace, because he sure was feeling queasy, and the smell of disinfectant was suddenly not helping.

The nurse slowed by a private bedroom, peering around the door. “Here we go – ah, looks like she’s awake after all! Afternoon, Trish!”

Felix’s stomach pretty much hit the floor as he stepped into the room after Shayne and the nurse. The disinfectant smell vanished, talcum powder and the smell of roses swamping the air instead. She had always loved roses and had filled the house with them and doused herself with rose perfumes. Felix could practically hear her singing something in a soft, low voice as he inhaled, though his memory hadn’t held onto any words of the song.

Sunlight trailed gently through a netted curtain, warming the magnolia walls. A knitted purple blanket was thrown across her lower body as she cradled something to her chest with both hands, something that Felix couldn’t quite see. All he could tell was that they had cut her hair. She had always said she wanted to keep her hair long, even into her old age. She’d always been braiding it and twirling it between her fingers. He almost let himself get angry about it, before he realised that no one had been there to tell them to do otherwise – not even him.

“Trish? Your nephews are here to see you,” the nurse exclaimed happily. “Why don’t we sit you up, so you can have a chat?”

“Who – who is that?” the woman whimpered, reaching out a hand, which the nurse promptly took.

“It’s Andy, Mrs. Bramley,” the nurse replied, speaking a little more firmly this time. “I’m here with two of your nephews, isn’t that nice?”

The numbness began to spread out from Felix’s chest as the nurse adjusted the hospital bed so that the silver-haired woman was almost upright without the danger of slumping forward. Soft eyes that had once held such warmth and recognition were unfocused and foggy, never landing anywhere for longer than a few seconds.

She can’t see.

Just how long had he been away?

Shayne backed up a couple of steps, briefly meeting Felix’s panicked gaze, and then swept a hand through the air to beckon him further into the room.

“I-I –” Felix’s stomach flipped as he shook his head, pushing another bubble of acidic air towards his throat. “Shayne, I can’t – I-I don’t think I can do this.”

“Nephews?” the woman mumbled.

“Yeah, your nephews…” Nurse Andy looked at Shayne, beckoning him to the other side of the bed. “Felix and – Shayne, was it?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Shayne said, awkwardly letting himself be guided into a stiff plastic chair.

Felix lingered by the opposite wall, smiling weakly at the nurse as they glanced over at him.

“Shayne and Felix are here,” Andy repeated for the sake of Patricia’s hearing. “They’re gonna talk to you for a little while, okay? And I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes with your lunch.”

“Ah…” Patricia nodded slowly, a nervous twitch of a smile crossing her face. “Oliver will want steak for his lunch. But don’t let him near the whisky cabinet until the sun goes down.”

Andy shot Shayne and Felix a smile that said good luck, and left.

There was dead silence for what felt like the longest time, in which the woman turned her head to look in the direction the window. Felix could barely see her face now.

Shayne sat forward in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees. Felix felt his gaze land on him briefly before he stared at the floor. “Are you okay?”

Felix opened his mouth to answer, but Patricia answered first. Shayne’s head shot up at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide.

“Oh, I’m quite fine, sweetheart,” she replied, tilting her head in Shayne’s direction. “You can tell your father I’m quite alright.”

Shayne made brief eye contact with Felix again, before a wandering hand caught his attention. He seemed to automatically reach up to let it rest against his own palm, and the woman tightened her grip around it.

“I’m…” Shayne shifted in the chair and cleared his throat. “Patricia, I’m not – I’m not your son.”

“Oh, my son…” Patricia gave a low chuckle. “Are you friends with Avery?”

Felix felt his hair stand on end, bristling with a cold that just wasn’t there. He expected another look from Shayne, but he didn’t get one.

“Avery?” Shayne’s voice was surprisingly soft. He continued letting her hold his hand, which Felix found surprising.

A pinch of anxiety made Felix’s skin bristle. He shook his head in denial, thinking maybe he could shake the name out of his head; he hadn’t heard it in so long, and it felt like it would have dragged a gasp out of him, if he could bring himself to breathe at all. He looked down and rearranged his feet on the spotless linoleum floor. The nerves were a permanent tingling knot in the pit of his belly, a sour taste in the back of his throat that he couldn’t get rid of. Tears burned his eyes and throat, the kind that he knew would overwhelm him for hours if he let them fall.

“That’s a… nice name,” Shayne was saying.

“No,” Patricia mumbled, shaking her head with curious ambition. “My baby was never Avery, not for a single… Oh, I have to – have to pick him up at two o’clock. Have to – have to wash Avery’s hands, Avery’s little hands… Oliver hates mess. Hates it in the house.”

“Shayne,” Felix whispered, taking a step backwards, towards the door.

Shayne looked up. “What?” he hissed.

“I think we – we should – we should go,” Felix whimpered. He was starting to feel very, very ill, now that he was able to put a face, a voice, a set of memories, to the sketch outline he’d kept in his head. These were names and things he hadn’t let himself even think about for thirteen years. He’d put all of this in a box – in a coffin, more or less – and had never intended on opening it.

He lifted the back of his hand and turned his head to let out a couple of deep, anxious belches, trying his best to keep his eyes from watering.

“Hey, Trish?” Shayne said, starting to get up from the chair. “I have to go to the bathroom, but my friend’s going to keep talking to you. Right?”

“Wh-what?” Felix stammered. His heart leapt as Shayne nodded to the chair, beckoning for Felix to come around the bed and take his seat. Bitter acid licked the back of his throat.

“Yeah, come on, sit down,” Shayne said loudly, using that same breezy voice he’d put on when he’d spoken to Nurse Andy. It seemed to prick up Patricia’s ears and hold her attention, because she turned her head slightly, as though searching for

Felix’s hands shook as he laid his documents down on the bedside locker and then shuffled around the end of the bed. He let his weight sit at the very edge of the seat, legs too twitchy with nervous energy to sit all the way back. He glanced up as he sensed Shayne moving away.

He gently grabbed onto the dark-haired boy’s arm.

“Shayne,” Felix whispered, feeling the break in his own voice as it trembled.

“Relax, I’m right fucking here,” Shayne whispered. He cleared his throat and broke out the peppy voice from before. “Hey, Trish, this is my friend. His name’s –”

“Felix,” Felix murmured, gently laying his hand over the back of hers. The contact was surreal, like he was holding a hand made of wax, and he might have dropped it again out of abject fear, if she hadn’t closed her fingers around his. “I’m… I’m Felix.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“H-hi, how – how are you doing?”

“Oh, I was just weeding the flower beds.”

Felix’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting; it wasn’t as though touching her own flesh and blood would suddenly bring back the coherency that had been eaten away by the dementia over the years.

“Sorry,” he whispered, clearing his throat and staring at the back of her hand. The words felt and sounded insufficient for what he needed them for, and yet he couldn’t think of any better ones. “I’ve been away for a, um, a long time, and I’m – I’m really sorry.”

Nothing changed on her face, nothing to indicate that she was taking any of what he was saying in. He felt a flutter of relief in his chest.

He realised Shayne wasn’t listening, either; in fact, he’d gone around to the other side of the bed and picked up something from Felix’s pile of papers. Felix didn’t have the heart to say anything to stop him.

“Oliver Bramley,” Shayne mumbled, frowning at a cutting from a newspaper. “Her husband’s a tech guy, apparently he’s worth millions.”

Felix squeezed Patricia’s hand and watched as Shayne flipped to the next clipping.

“Oh,” Shayne said, almost immediately after seeing the next headline. “He was worth millions. He’s been dead a few years…” His voice drifted off as he read to the end of the article. He looked up at Felix. “It says Avery’s dead too.”

“Yeah,” Felix said softly, turning his gaze towards her again. Her expression was peaceful, and her hands were gentle as they both cupped Felix’s. Her fingers, he realised, were drifting softly across his skin, a little more pointedly than Felix felt comfortable with. It looked like she was feeling for a watch or a bracelet, until she pressed the pads of her fingers into his wrist, as though she was checking his pulse.

Felix’s stomach flipped as he realised what was happening.

She was checking whether or not he had a pulse.

Felix sat up straight and tried to pull his hand free, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Patricia jumped slightly, and lifted her head as though to meet his gaze, even though she couldn’t. He blinked, and tears dropped onto his lap.

All of the things he’d thought, at some time or another, that he’d like to say to her, seemed to evaporate straight off his tongue. His throat was probably too dry to form any words, in any case.

“Felix,” Patricia whispered, that smile breezing across her face again. As he looked up at her and blinked away tears, he envisioned the years melting out of her skin, her face quickly becoming the one that he remembered.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding briskly and trying to ignore the tears that were gathering in his eyes. He had never believed he’d hear that name being spoken by that voice.

“That suits you much better, darling.”

#Swallow the World #Thicker than Blood #Stw Felix #Felix's story #nausea #indigestion #anxiety #angst fic #sickfic #my OCs #memory loss mention #dementia mention #family drama

18 notes · View notes

seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Adventus Everlark

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Special request: Everlark celebrates Advent by focusing weekly on hope, peace, joy, and love. [submitted by @hutchhitched]

Rating: T (for suggestiveness and a trigger)

Trigger Warning: Mention of physical abuse.

Author’s Note: This story will have both religious (Catholic/Christian) and secular elements. This is part 1 of a 4-part ficlet series. To be continued on A03 at a later date. Thank you. I hope you enjoy!

______________

If Katniss knew anything about her boyfriend, Peeta Mellark, she knew he loved this time of year‒the Christmas season. He loved everything about it; he was practically giddy as a child over it, and he’d been eager to share his traditions with her for some time. Truth be told, Katniss didn’t always understand or share Peeta’s excitement for this time of year, but she loved to see it, and she loved him for it.

Having grown up in a Catholic household, Peeta celebrated Christmas in the traditional Catholic way‒with Mass, prayers, and the lighting of Advent candles. Of course, there was always a Christmas tree, presents, a big dinner, and tons of baking‒Peeta was a baker, and came from a long line of bakers, so there had to be.

The Everdeens, by contrast, weren’t expressly religious; although, they were open to the possibility of a greater power in the universe, and they would partake in the typical holiday activities around this time of year. Katniss had gone along with those activities for years, even tried to replicate them for her beloved sister, Prim, after their father died and their mother suffered from a crushing depression, but she’d never gotten the joy out of it that Prim did.

Or Peeta.

Peeta was a lot like Prim. Maybe that was part of the reason why she loved him so much. The two were kindhearted as they came and fresh as raindrops, both giving, loving, and selfless individuals. Too good for Katniss, in her opinion. They even looked alike, with their light skin, pale blond hair, and blue eyes. Honestly, Prim looked more like Peeta’s sibling than her own‒she with her olive skin tone and gray eyes.

Another thing Prim and Peeta had in common was their faith. Despite growing up in a secular home, Prim held strong beliefs, similar to Peeta’s.

For Katniss, faith was a challenge. It required a great deal of trust and devotion, things which she’d always struggled to give. At least, that’s how she felt about it. But Peeta said otherwise. Peeta always said he saw Katniss for who she truly was, even if she didn’t see it herself. He said he saw a loving and compassionate woman, dedicated to caring for and providing for her entire family.

She’d argued that it was because they were family. It didn’t make her compassionate; it was just the way it was supposed to be. Directly after, she’d felt awful for her statement. Families were definitely not created equal when it came to love and affection, and Peeta was proof positive of this.

When Peeta first told Katniss about some of his childhood experiences, particularly his mother’s physical abuse, she was furious. She couldn’t understand how he could have anything to do with his family, let alone uphold their traditions as he did, and she wanted nothing to do with them, either.

Katniss had put off meeting Peeta’s family for that very reason. Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure how she’d stand being in the same room as his mother. If she even looked at him wrong, Katniss was certain she’d go off the deep end.

But Peeta assured her that his family wasn’t all bad, nor had his home life been. In fact, he’d mentioned a lot of good memories with his brothers and his father. And regarding their holiday traditions, those were the ones he held closest to his heart.

Peeta was so good, almost too good.

If anyone could be a religious prophet come to earth, it would be Peeta. But maybe she put him on a pedestal because she loved him so much.

No, Peeta was not perfect, and sure, he did things to annoy her, like the time he jokingly called her pure. She’d gotten huffy about it and refused to talk to him for about two days. In hindsight, her reaction was a bit extreme, but they’d made up, and then some.

Besides, if anyone was pure, it was Peeta.

Not that he was a saint; there were certainly things he…bent the rules on, such as them sleeping in the same bed before marriage. She was glad for that one, because she hated not sleeping in his arms.

And Peeta felt the same.

One time, after a particularly nasty fight with his mother over what she suspected to be an ‘improper arrangement’ between them, Peeta had told Katniss, “I don’t care if she thinks it’s a sin. Now that I’ve slept with you in my arms, it’s impossible not to. I’m not going back.”

“Sometimes you do,” she’d said cheekily. Considering they weren’t ‘officially’ living together, she did occasionally sleep at her place.

“I know, but those times are unbearable,” he’d responded, leaning in for a soft peck. “If I had to do it all the time,” he whispered against her lips, “what kind of life would that be?”

Katniss concurred.

Of course, the whole sleeping together thing had started innocently, when they were still just best friends. It all began with Katniss’s nightmares…

One night, after an especially bad one, she’d called Peeta, who lived in the same building, hoping he’d talk her to sleep. On a whim, she’d asked him to come over, and she’d asked him to stay. He did.

After that, they shared a bed frequently, and it was all very innocent. But the more they slept together, the harder it became to fight temptation, especially after revealing their true feelings for one another.

It was sort of a mutual confession, but Peeta had been hinting at how he felt for a long time. Then one night, in bed, he’d asked her directly, “You love me. Real or not real?” This was a little game they played.

Without hesitation, she’d answered, “Real.”

This would be Katniss and Peeta’s first Christmas as an honest-to-goodness committed couple, and they were both thrilled. Peeta usually went to his family’s for Christmas, but this year, he’d said that he wanted to spend it with just her.

And they’d decided to celebrate Advent together by focusing on hope, peace, joy, and love.

Week 1: Hope

On the first Sunday of Advent, which fell this year on November 29th, Peeta taught Katniss about the lighting of the Advent candles, and they lit the first candle on the wreath, one of the purple ones. Peeta explained that it was called The Prophecy Candle and symbolized hope and God’s forgiveness of man’s sins. They proceeded to light it every night, together, and Katniss even prayed with Peeta, or at least remained by his side, holding his hand.

Her favorite activity during the Hope week so far was when they spent an entire evening wrapped up in each other on the couch under the blankets, eating junk food and talking about their hopes for the future, their own wishes and those for their loved ones and all humankind.

At first, Katniss had been fearful about speaking some of her own because she didn’t like to think too far ahead. To think ahead was to ultimately be disappointed, in her mind. She was so afraid that if she spoke aloud what she hoped for, as with one of those elusive birthday wishes parents talked about, it would never happen, or be taken away.

But Peeta reassured her.

Something else Peeta had been doing for Advent, which he hadn’t expected her to do was fasting. It wasn’t a complete fast; he was still eating, but he wasn’t eating between meals or having meat on Fridays or any sweets.

First, we fast; then we feast, was what Peeta had told her, referring to the period of penance and preparation leading up to the Christmas celebration.

Peeta was being really good about it, so good that she worried he might waste away to nothing at this rate. And she liked a little bulk on his body. Healthy and strong like an ox, that’s the way she liked him.

Of course, she wasn’t making things easy on him.

Katniss imagined it must be difficult for him to bake up all kinds of treats for her this time of year and not eat any himself, so she’d offered to fast with him. But Peeta refused, saying he enjoyed the act of baking, which she knew, and that he enjoyed serving her. She also knew that. And naturally, he had to bring up her cheese bun and Christmas cookie addictions.

He was right, though.

What could she do but thank him and kiss him, then prop her head between her hands and watch him bake?

As creepy as it might sound, she loved watching him. She enjoyed seeing the muscles of his forearms twitch and pulse when he whipped a mixture. And she enjoyed watching his long, pale golden eyelashes flutter in concentration when she got close while he read over one of his recipes (also when he sketched or painted).

Presently, Katniss was seated on the edge of the counter watching Peeta boil fudge in a saucepan. God, she loved fudge.

Peeta was multitasking today, so he also had a batch of cookie dough laying in wait in a mixing bowl. When he looked over and smiled at her, she smiled sweetly back. And then, partly to freak him out and partly because she wanted it, she scooped a bit of dough onto the mixing spoon and brought it to her lips.

“Katniss!” He tramped over and smacked her hand lightly like a child’s.

“Hey, watch it,” she said, grinning. She’d been asking for it, though. She knew Peeta hated when she licked the raw cookie dough batter. Something about salmonella. Although, she’d done it as a kid and never got violently ill from it.

“But this was one of my traditions.” She cocked her head and licked the very tip of the spoon in a seductive manner, hoping it’d get to him.

It didn’t.

Peeta simply sighed. “Fine, go on and eat it if you want to end up in the hospital.”

Poking her lip out at him, she put the spoon down in its bowl. He smirked over at her, then returned to the oven to check on the fudge. After a few seconds he turned back, spoon in hand. “By the way, trying to entice me while I’m baking isn’t going to work.”

“No?” She was honestly surprised.

“Nope. You should know that when I bake, I go into a zone. And as you’ve seen, I have some self-restraint.” He smirked impishly. “But nice try.”

Katniss pressed her lips together.

“Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m gonna carry the image of you licking the spoon with me the rest of the day, minus the unsafe cookie dough, and later…I might have big plans for you.” He winked at her.

“You mean big, big, big, big plans?” Katniss imitated Miss Trinket, their ‘eccentric’ (to put it mildly) neighbor with the wild, colorful wigs and affected accent.

“Yes, very big plans.”

“Can’t wait.” She bit down on her lip and reached for the spoon again as if her hand was magnetized.

“For all that is holy, please stop eating raw cookie dough!” Peeta exclaimed.

“Okay, okay.” Katniss dropped the spoon back in, the corner of her lip twitching. “But you might need to give me something else to snack on.”

“Will do, sweetheart.”

With that, he walked over purposefully, placed his hands on either side of her face, and captured her lips. Sofly, but insistently his mouth moved across hers, sending a pulsing sensation straight down.

“How’s that?” he asked as they broke apart.

“Hmm…you think a lot of yourself, Mellark.”

He raised a brow then kissed her again, longer and slower.

“Better,” she said, slightly breathless. He began feathering hot, wet kisses down her throat, and Katniss sighed.

With a low growl, Peeta gripped her hips, causing her to let out a small squeal. He tugged her closer to the edge of the counter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her pelvis into his. She could feel his excitement growing, and just when she was sure he was about to carry her off and take her upstairs, he disentangled himself.

“That’s self-restraint,” said Peeta smugly.

Katniss felt like whipping a ball of deadly cookie dough at his head like a snowball. “Tease.” She groaned, shoving his chest. “Sadist.”

“No, masochist, sweetheart. Trust me, this is a lot harder for me than it is for you.” Katniss chuckled, and he pecked her cheek.

Just then, Katniss’s phone began to ring. She fished it out and took a look. “Oh, that’s Prim calling.” She hopped off the counter and prepared to tap the green button. “Hey, Peeta, what do you think about inviting Prim over for Christmas Eve?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

78 notes · View notes

theheavenlymoon · 3 years

Text

A flower’s growth 🌸

I just realized that Hanako is technically a self-insert oc because I use her for more than just twst i-

Also, this is my number one resource https://camp-halfblood-fanon.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia_Cabin

Its mentions one important thing that is critical in Hanako's back story. I'll show you the important thing but I recommend reading it all because its really interesting!

"i.e. Hestia takes some essence of a mortal man she takes a liking to and create her child by fire from the hearth with her essence fused to that mortal's. Hestia then proceeds to notify the father as she cannot raise the child." (13 in 'powers and traits')

Also to give you some visuals (I’ll explain the two boys later on)

So with that being said..let's👏talk👏trauma! More specifically Hanako's trauma.

(The writing style might change so just ignore it-)

WARNING: Suicidal thoughts

Virginal Goddesses like Hestia don't really have kids. Athena children are born from their mother's head. So how would a Hestia child be born? Let me explain.

A man caught Hestia's attention. He was compassionate and energetic and always tried to help when he could. Even though he had very little money, even though he had some hard times, he was still compassionate and that intrigued Hestia.

When he was more financial stable, Hestia decided to gift him a child. A perfect gift for a family man like him. Hestia took some of his essence and mixed it with her’s and with the help of some fire from the hearth, Hanako was born.

A small knock could be heard through the small house. Fumihito goes to open the door only for a baby to staring up at him while making cooing noises. Rapped in a purple blanket with flowers on it, the baby had a small name tag that said ‘Hanako’

“Welcome home Hanako.” The man said with a small smile

When Hanako was about 4, Fumihito married his best friend and moved to America. A few months later triplets were born. All of them being male. First is Kaji, Hinote, and Yakeru. Most people would think Hana would hate to have siblings, but it’s quite the opposite. Hanako was ecstatic to have siblings she could play with.

When she was told she was going to be a big sister and had to take her role seriously, that’s exactly what she did. She read the boys to sleep and keeped them entertained as best as she could. When they were a little older Hana liked to make them wear dress and have tea parties. In return she took part in everything the boys did. Sports, video games, music, art you name it she would try it at least once.

Hana grew in grace and compassion. She truly was a great balance between her parents. It was funny hearing advice that sounds like something a sage would give only for it to be a child talking. She was a bright, energetic girl and never could stay in one place for very long. She was very social and was friends with almost everyone in her school.

But some stories can’t always be fairytales and rainbows...

Hanako’s step-mother fell ill and passed away when she was about 10. Everyone was devastated but life doesn’t stop when people fall. So they didn’t either. Obviously they still mourned but they tried to have a positive outlook even though a family member is gone.

(Fast forward to where Hana is 11)

In the dead of night, when everyone was in a deep slumber, there’s a small crash. At the sound, Hana jerks up in a sweat. Call it intuition, but she had a horrible feeling something was going to go wrong.

She snuck into her brother’s rooms and hid them in a small closet in one of their rooms. As Hana was about to go wake her father she heard a noise. Hana turned around only to see a woman holding what look to be like a sword.

Without warning the woman grabbed Hana’s hair and threw her into a bookshelf. Hana let out a small shriek. The bookshelf itself was unstable and the added force made it fall. Luckily Hana was fast enough to move most of her body. Let’s just say her left leg wasn’t as lucky as her other limbs.

The woman had a feeling the father could come out any minute so she ran around the corner and waited for the perfect opportunity to strike

At the sudden noises that we’re going outside his room, Hana’s father slams the door open only to see Hana stuck under the unstable bookshelf.

In at state of panics he rushed over to her. “Hana are you alright?!?!” But Hana didn’t answer. She was to focused on the woman who was still behind the corner.

“I’m calling the police! Just hang on!” Fumihito yelled. After Fumihito called 911 he tried to move the bookshelf. While he was doing so the woman kept stalking closer. “DADDY LOOK OUT-“ but it was to late. In one swipe Fumihito’s head was cut clean off, his body falling limp right beside Hanako. No one in that neighborhood could ever forget the Bloodcurdling scream that came from Hanako’s house. Eyes wide with horror and despair Hana couldn’t keep her tears in.

Before the woman could do any more damage they heard police sirens. “We will meet again someday demigod.” And with that the woman disappeared.

After a full check of the house they concluded that only the children were left. Once they found Hana, nothing was left of the lively girl. After helping her get out from under the bookshelf the police immediately sent her to the hospital. The police told the triplets to pack stuff that was most important to them and follow the police. (The triplets also packed stuff for Hana as well. One of the things being a photo album of the family.)

The police concluded that the children didn’t have any other adults to care for them so they would have to be put in an orphanage. However there wasn’t an orphanage where they lived so they would have to be put in a new town.

It was hard adjusting to this new life. There was barely enough food for everyone, you had to share rooms with other kids. Hanako had to use crutches for a while until her leg healed. Her new school wasn’t that great either. Hana, not being as social as she once was, was bullied for being too quiet. Not to mention, no one had ever seen a kid with natural yellow eyes and violet hair.

From beating her almost to death, to threatening to cut her hair and gouge her eyes out because she was ‘too pretty’

On terms of Hana in general, she wasn’t acting like her normal self. She had gotten more reserved and became a cry baby. You could easily tell she had eye bags and her anxiety was always threatening to go through the roof. You can only assume those eye bags were because of nightmares from that night. She talked much quieter and always wore a frown with her eye brows scrunched in a worried way.

The other three were to young to understand what happened. The police had to lie to them saying “your dad is on a special trip right now.”

About 6 months later the triplets were adopted by a man who looked like he was the head of some company. Hana tried her best to run after them but the staff had to hold her back. All the while the three were screaming for her to come and save them.

What no one knew is that the triplets would be forced to become assassins. It’s not like they wanted to! The man said if they didn’t he would kill their sister! The night after the adoption they all made a promise to keep Hana safe no matter what.

So there Hana sat all alone on the swings of a play ground, with no one around to comfort her. Surrounded by people who have families and are happy. It’s like the universe was taunting her.

The only thing that didn’t change is her older sibling nature. Giving her food to the little ones. Playing dress up or soccer. Her smiles were always fake. Maybe to the blind eye she seems happy but some could easily tell she was anything but happy.

6 months later Hana finally gets her cast takin off. At this time Hanako is 12 and is at her breaking point. After another day of school, and another day of almost getting beat to death, something snaps inside of her.

(TRIGGER WARNING⚠️)

You have to understand, Hanako didn’t have anybody to talk to. Everyone was either to busy or didn’t bother to care. Which left her all by herself. It felt like she was trapped almost. No one there to listen or laugh with.

The scissors on her dresser looked quite tempting. The relief of not having to go through any more of this pain and loneliness was very appealing, but before she could touch them a huge gust of wind blew into her room. Taking the scissors away from her while she was distracted.

If that couldn’t work then running away would be the next best option. That night Hana packed her things (including the photo album) and drew out her plan. It was quite simple really.

She would skip school and go behind it, where a cliff is, to get a good view of where she could go from there.

After running around the school and into a forest, Hana reached a stream. Cupping some water to drink, Hana got caught up in how refreshing the water was. A snap of a branch snapped her out of her state and made her look around. That’s when she saw the manticore out of the corner of her eye.

Hana quickly got up and started backing away only to forget that there’s a cliff and slips. Plummeting to her presumed death tears start to seep out once again. Out of no where a boy that looks to be about 15, swoops in to save her, but the weirdest thing is that his shoes have wings on them, But she was to tired to care. So acting like she didn’t have a care in the world, she rapped her arms around him and snuggled into his neck.

The last thing she could make out was something like “ Let’s get out of here before that manticore decides it wants a 3 course Demi-god meal!” Or something like that.

When Hana woke up, she looked around and realized she was in an infirmary room. The same boy she saw was sleeping on the bed next to her. A knock on the door was heard, and in came girl who looked about the same age as the boy. “You two have been out for a while.” She said “I would’ve never suspected that a tiny demigod like you could cause so much trouble.” Hana looked confused “Do I know you? And what do you mean by demigod?” She asked.

The older girl let out a small chuckle before walking up an sitting next to Hana. “I’m Jane, daughter of Aphrodite! The reason why I called you a demigod is because, well... you’re half god half mortal.” The younger girl couldn’t believe her ears. “B-but how do we know I’m a demigod?” “Have you seen your other parent before? Can you never be in one place for to long? Those are all signs my dear, of course if you don’t believe me we can wait till your godly parent claims you as their kid.”

After that small encounter Jane took Hanako on a tour of where she’d be staying the whole summer. “W-why are we at a camp? And who was that boy w-who saved me?” The younger girl asked in a quiet voice. “This camp houses demigods, there a two from what everyone knows. One for Greek gods and one for Roman gods. The boy who saved you is my best friend Chase, he’s a child of Hermes! Speaking of Hermes, you’ll be staying in that cabin until your godly parent claims you.” The elder girl pointed at the Hermes cabin. “The gods have specific cabins for them and their children, and depending on your mom or dad you could end up housing with me or Chase.”

After the tour, there was dinner, after dinner it was time for everyone to sit around the big campfire. Everyone was laughing, talking, and telling stories. One kid asked Hana if she knew her godly parent yet, but before she could answer something flashed above her head.

The warm glow of a fireplace hung over her head. Everyone stopped talking, looking shocked. Hana was the first ever child of Hestia! From the back of all the campers you can hear someone yell “All hail Hanako! Daughter of Hestia!” And just like that everyone bowed.

After all that craziness, Hanako was escorted to her own cabin. She let out a small thank you before going inside. To her surprise there was a woman waiting inside, but this woman felt oddly familiar. Almost as if Hana saw her before! The woman turned around and said “We have quite a lot to catch up on, Hanako.” With a welcoming smile. Just like that Hana dropped her bag and ran to the woman. It didn’t take long to figure out that she was her godly parent.

That night the two girls talked and talked till midnight. That’s when Hestia tucked Hana into bed. For the first time in a year she finally felt happy, and that night she went to sleep wearing a smile. The next day Hana sat by a tree relaxing when suddenly two boy came out of nowhere! One had black hair, blue eyes, and he had some freckles on his nose. The other had light brown hair and cyan blue eyes and wore a black baseball hat.

“We h-heard you were the daughter of Hestia and w-we were w-wondering i-if you would like to-“ “What he’s trying to say, is that we wondering if you to be friends!” The brunette interrupted. “A-are you sure you want a crybaby like me to be your friend??” The boys looked at each other and smiled (the brunette smiling more brighter and the blackette smile more small)

They nodded and reached out their hands to her’s. At first she hesitated but quickly grabbed their hands, afraid they might disappear. When she grabbed their hand it was like weights were lifted off her chest. She never realized until now, how important friends and family are until recently . “I’m Xavier and the dork with the freckles is Kai!” “I AM NOT A DORK!! I’m just not that great when it comes to ladies!” “Right, Right.” The brunette said sarcastically. “Anyway my godly parent is Hermes and Kai’s Mother is Athena!”

Maybe thing we’re starting to take a turn for the better.

Once she met those two Hanako started coming out of her shell more. She was still quiet and anxious but it isn’t as bad as before. Not to mention she gets more loud and energetic with Xavier and Kai around!

Hanako HATES libraries and bookshelf. She’ll go in a library if she has to, but she avoids them as best she can. If she’s ever in a vicinity of a bookshelf she’ll distance herself as much as possible. Let’s just say she gets very anxious and nervous when she around them.

If you ever asked about Hana’s past she would never be ashamed to tell you what happened. She isn’t happy about the events that took place but there’s nothing she can do about it know. So know matter what Hanako always tries to keep her head up high when it comes to her past.

(More visuals)

🌸Some side notes here🌸

(Don’t mind the last one’s eyes being blue. I was trying to decide if I wanted to stick with yellow or try something new-)

(I can go more into depth on Hanako’s two besties if anyone would be interested)

(I’m also thinking of reintroducing her because the first one is her in twst but she’s like that in every fandom basically. Obviously I won’t delete the first one I just wanna talk about everything she’s in and what her relations are to everyone!)

#ocs #twst oc #jjk oc #twisted wonderland #obey me oc #demon slayer oc #twst #genshin impact oc #twst x reader

19 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Fire - Daenerys x Red Priestess!Reader

heyo! this was requested by an anon who originally wanted an assassin w fire magic, and i compromised w a red priestess who was an assassin but decided not to hurt dany (bc that seems neat!) but ive been in the shit this week so ... i wrote something fluffy instead. I know, im a big fail, lol. I hope yall enjoy it anyway

Summary: Dany has a big gay crush. That’s it, that’s the fic

“Is she everything you hoped for?”

Y/N did not answer the man behind her. She focused on the flames in front of her, dancing in the brazier into familiar shapes. She had seen them for many years. It’s why she was chosen by the priests, and since the red comet fell from the sky, they whispered if she listened close. Here, in the dragon queen’s palace, she could hear the fire inside the dragons.

The bear knight’s metal armor and annoyed tone was not enough to distract her. Y/N reached her hand into the fire, it shaped into a dragon that sat in her palm. She didn’t feel the fire, but her red silk sleeve was burning.

Jorah disliked her silence, but he disliked many things about Y/N. When he first saw her fire tricks, he thought they were illusions, but the heat of them said otherwise. Then there was the first time she set upon Drogon…

He suppressed his shiver and set that memory aside. “The khaleesi wants to see you.”

Y/N closed her palm, and the dragon slivered out, flying back into the brazier. The flames glowed blue for just a fraction of a second. She waved her hand over them, and the fire smothered itself. Smoke rose out of the hot coals, but those too began to rapidly cool.

She wondered if the knight was still unsettled by her magic. Even the khaleesi had moments of awe and uneasiness, although she was fond of watching. Y/N stood, her silk robes gently scraping the marble floor. Jorah was already walking away, and she made no effort to run to catch up to him. She knew where Daenerys was.

The chambers Daenerys set aside for her council was well-lit and had an impressive, engraved table at the center of it. Its legs used to be harpies made of carved marble and ivory, but she had them removed for dragons made of onyx and rubies. Y/N liked the change, and how they glittered in the light. Perhaps she was biased - her own ruby hung around her neck, although it was far larger and smoother than any gemstone Daenerys had seen before.

The girl’s purple eyes lit up as Y/N entered the room. Y/N couldn’t help but return the sentiment, giving her khaleesi a smile. She was pleased there was no one else in the council room. “You wished to see me, khaleesi?”

“Yes. Jorah, you may leave us.”

Jorah didn’t protest, but he did shoot Y/N a look before he left the room and closed the doors. Y/N noticed there were no Unsullied in the chambers, either.

“I talked to him about what he said the other day,” Daenerys said after a moment of silence. “Ser Barristan, as well. They don’t … In the Seven Kingdoms, your sort of magic is seen as a dream. Unreal.”

“As unreal as dragons?” Y/N tilted her head, and Daenerys tried not to focus on how her hair slid across her bare shoulders. When Y/N first entered her service, she wore modest robes that covered nearly every inch of her. Since then she had adopted a more elegant, free style, at Daenerys’ subtle suggestion. She was pleased with the result.

Daenerys set her thoughts straight. “True. The reason I called you here was to locate Rhaegal. I haven’t seen him flying overhead in some time.”

“Nor have I.” Y/N touched the ruby that dangled by her collarbone. It was held with a simple gold chain, and anyone could have missed the way it seemed to flicker. It could have been a trick of the light, but Dany knew otherwise. “Would you like me to find him?”

Of course Y/N knew how to do that. She knew how to start and stop fire, how to dream about it, how to see into it. It was only logic that she could find it. She once told Daenerys that the dragons were beings of fire, swirling and living heat. She looked at them like …

… Well, not how others looked at them. It was hard to puzzle out Y/N’s expressions and thoughts. You could ask her something directly, and she’d have some sort of strange answer, or she’d just stay quiet. Daenerys could tell when Y/N was thinking something over, at least. Her pretty eyes would lower, and she’d touch that ruby - was it hot to the touch? It seemed like it - and she would be gone. Sometimes she stayed very still for hours, staring into fire, or staring into nothing.

But she’d always have an answer eventually.

Daenerys’ knights warned against Y/N’s counsel, telling her not to listen too closely to the words of a strange woman of a strange religion. Even Missandei had commented on the followers of Rhllor’s intent to convert King Robert and other places, and the strange magics they could possess. They warned her as if she did not know how to think for herself.

It upset her, but Y/N took such words in stride. She often seemed to know what others thought and said about her, and she did little to stop it. Missandei had warmed to her, Ser Barristan did not think she was any real threat, but Ser Jorah remained unconvinced and wary. Grey Worm did not like talk of magic or priests, but he had no real ill thought of Y/N, and Daario liked to ask her all sorts of ridiculous questions for his own amusement.

“I have found him, khaleesi.”

Daenerys couldn’t believe her thoughts had drifted again. Y/N often had that effect on her. “Where? Can we ride to him?”

“We could. He is in no danger, he is simply occupied with…” A soft smile came to Y/N’s red lips. “Something he has not seen before. That’s why he’s been away.”

“What could possibly interest him for that long? He’s been gone for days.”

“Shall we find out, your grace?”

Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah would warm her against this, ask her to take one of them or the Unsullied on the trip. Grey Worm would ask to escort them, Missandei would worry and send guards after them anyway. Daario would want to come along. Daenerys looked to the open, blue sky. There was still plenty of sun left.

“Let’s be quick,” She said, already giddy even if they hadn’t stepped a foot outside of the palace yet. “Missandei will keep them busy. Do you want to share my horse?”

Y/N was not an adept rider, but she still said, “That is alright, khaleesi. I can ride my own.”

Daenerys tried not to feel disappointed.

The danger outside the protective walls of Meereen was real, but Daenerys comforted herself with the fact that Drogon and Viserion often flew about these hills, and no one had seen them leave. Y/N said it would not take long, that they’d return toward the end of sunset.

Why do I keep believing her? Daenerys asked herself. She glanced aside, watching the woman reposition her reins. Her normally serene facade was broken everytime she rode a horse. She was not afraid of the creatures, but she had only recently learned to ride, and the beasts weren’t always fond of her.

“If you keep moving like that, you’ll make him nervous,” Daenerys said. “There’s no need to clutch the reins so tightly, either.”

Y/N nodded, and tried to relax her posture. Luckily, she picked an agreeable horse. Daenerys recalled the saddle sores and aches she received when she learned to ride. Her handmaidens gave her a balm to ease the pain. Maybe she could find that for Y/N.

I’ll ask someone to deliver it to her. I couldn’t give it to her myself - no, who says I can’t? But what would she think…

It was hard to tell exactly what Y/N was thinking, but sometimes she slipped, like now. Her brows were slightly furrowed as she righted her posture, and once she was satisfied with it, she kept glancing down at the ground, or at the horse’s ears. Y/N pet his soft neck, then slowly reached up to scratch between his ears. She jerked her hand back as her horse shook his head and made an annoyed sound.

“He didn’t like that,” Daenerys laughed, and it was adorable how Y/N gently laughed, too. She was usually so subdued, so quiet, so … what Daenerys used to be.

“But his ears are so cute,” Y/N went back to petting his neck, which he much preferred. “Doesn’t it make you think of a cat.”

“No, not at all.”

“Not even a little? There were some strays I’d feed at the temple. Their ears would twitch when I came by. They could smell the food in my pockets.”

Sometimes Y/N would speak of the temple she grew up in, or the other Free Cities she had travelled to, the friends she had known. Perhaps if she showed this side to the others, they would trust her more, but Daenerys was happy to have it to herself.

The grass thinned and made way for rocky hills and in the distance, orange and yellow canyons. The sun was beginning its descent, and soon the sky would match those oranges and yellows. Y/N stopped her horse.

“We can walk from here. Do you hear him?”

Daenerys stopped her own horse and listened. There was the slightest breeze, some distant bird calling, the sound of her horse’s nicker and …

She shook her head. “If he’s close, we would have heard him by now.”

Y/N dismounted with some inelegance, but she fixed her clothes and just smiled. “Maybe you will when we get closer.”

They tied the horses to one of the few trees in the dry area, and Daenerys followed Y/N’s lead.

It could be a trap. She could have men waiting there, or there could have been someone following us …

The thought was fleeting, and Daenerys fell in beside her. They both changed to more practical clothing, but Y/N still had a shimmering red cloak tied around her shoulders. As they walked, Daenerys began to hear something strange. It was faint, but as they came closer…

“Water?” She looked at Y/N.

Y/N’s sweet lips curled upward. She often smelled of smoke and spice, and Daenerys wondered if she tasted that way, too.

They came to the edge of a small canyon, which could be better described as a deep ravine. Water glistened at the bottom of it, and more importantly, the deep green scales of her dear Rhaegal. He lifted his wings high and water spilled on his back.

“What is he doing?” Daenerys asked, but she was answered just a moment later. Water spewed up from the ground in a huge geyser, all at once, and Rhaegal happily opened his mouth and snapped at it. The water fell in thick droplets all around the dragon, the ravine and the two of them.

Y/N pulled her red hood over her head. Daenerys wiped her brow. “You didn’t tell me to pack a hood.”

“Apologies, khaleesi.” Y/N giggled. She peered downward. “If we’re steady, we can walk down to him.”

Rhaegal’s long tail lazily swung back and forth in the water. He was resting, and it only submerged his arms and legs, but he was content. Daenerys noticed all the charred bones scattered around the ravine. She wondered how much was in the water. Her feet found stability, and she carefully followed a natural, steadying path downward. Y/N was just ahead, although she wasn’t as confident in her descent.

They came to a small landing and had to stop there. The rest of the way was simply too steep. Rhaegal seemed to just notice them then, and Daenerys’ heart swelled as her child lifted his head and gazed at her with his sharp eyes. They weren’t merely brown, but bronze, with all the steadiness and strength that metal held. She touched his nose and muzzle, marvelling at how much he had grown.

His eyes quickly flashed toward Y/N, and Daenerys felt his growl vibrate underneath her hand. She frowned and quickly said, “No.”

She remembered Y/N’s first encounter with Drogon. That was also the day she had taken the strange, beautiful priestess into her court.

Just like with Drogon, Y/N showed no fear. She stepped forward, but she didn’t make an attempt to touch the dragon. She lowered her hood, and Rhaegal’s long, black pupil tightened.

Daenerys felt the heat of his breath as he snorted through his nose. She tensed, forcing herself to stay calm as she repeated her order. “No.”

The geyser blew again, and Daenerys didn’t flinch. Rhaegal watched it rise in the air, then pulled away from his mother to open his jaws at the water again. His black teeth glittered in the setting sun.

Daenerys looked to Y/N. The priestess was so calm and steady, so unaffected … except Dany caught how her shoulders sagged in relief.

“He isn’t like Drogon,” Daenerys said, remembering that day. “He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

Y/N replied simply. “Drogon did not hurt me.”

Had you been any other woman, he would have killed you. Except ...

It took days for the servants to remove the char marks on the marble, and some of the melted pillars were still being repaired. Daenerys was half tempted to leave them like that, as a warning to any potential enemies, but it was unsettling to think it may have been Y/N that was burned away.

Except, she didn’t. Her red robes and long hair did, but her necklace and body remained unharmed. Daenerys and her court watched as the fire arced around her, singing away everything but skin and metal, and that ruby she never removed. Y/N looked Drogon straight in the eyes, even as they were obscured by his fire.

His temper always was the worst. She had done nothing but approach Daenerys too quickly. Jorah was the one who pulled her back behind one of the pillars, and Daenerys remembered how the heat licked her arms as it tried to reach around the marble. Daario had pulled Missandei to cover behind the other pillar.

Drogon almost never came to the palace, he always wanted to be in the sky, yet he came down on that day. And when the fire cleared and the floor was charred black except for a small circle … He stood back, and Y/N still looked at him. She only trembled slightly.

She isn’t any other woman.

The geyser blew again, and rained down upon them. The water’s heat didn’t bother her, but all the dust from the ride was stuck to her skin, and the water didn’t clean it off. She had dust in her hair, too, and probably some stray pieces of grass.

She smiled. It had been some time since she was properly dirty after a ride, and she looked forward to a perfumed bath and brushing her hair when she got back. Daenerys glanced to Y/N, who was occupied with watching Rhaegal. She also had dirt on her cheeks and neck, and some in her hair, and maybe if she wanted a bath afterward, too…

Daenerys reached forward and tried to rub some of the dirt off her cheeks. It didn’t work, but Y/N’s pretty eyes went wide. She didn’t pull away. “Khaleesi?”

Daenerys stepped forward, gently moving her palm so she had Y/N’s whole cheek. Just as she thought - as she dreamed? - the priestess’ skin was flushed and warmer than anyone she’d touched before.

“You can say my name,” Daenerys said. She tried to tease, but her beating heart and their closeness made her breath catch. She thought Y/N was wearing color on her lips, but perhaps they just always looked like that?

“Daenerys.” Y/N tried it out, and the dragon queen felt like a girl again, feeling her heart soar at hearing her name on those lips. She leaned in, bringing Y/N closer to her. Their foreheads brushed, and the warmth between them turned to heat.

A piercing roar broke through the sky, and cut straight between them. Daenerys recognized the sound at once, and it distracted her as Y/N jumped away. The woman’s cheeks were as red as her cloak.

Above them, Viserion broke through the clouds and bellowed down at his brother. The first cry was for Daenerys, and the second was probably a command for Rhaegal to move aside. The green dragon made room for his brother, and the water reached the top of the ravine as Viserion splashed straight into it. Y/N pulled Daenerys back before the muddy water could splash all over them.

Daenerys was far too overheated and flustered, and the sight of her children amusing themselves only gave her a little relief. At least Rhaegal was alright.

Y/N had pulled her hood back down, and it was a shame. At least her lips were still visible through the shadow, although looking wasn’t as good as tasting.

“We’ve been gone for a long time. Let’s ride back.” Daenerys led the way out of the ravine. Y/N said nothing until they were back to the horses, who were understandably spooked from the dragon that flew overhead not fifteen minutes ago. Y/N held her horse’s reins and tried to soothe it, and Daenerys helped, touching the priestess’ hands perhaps more than was needed.

Y/N didn’t pull away, and that gave Daenerys the courage to kiss her cheek. The soft dyed linen brushed her own cheek, and she caught a whiff of perfume.

The priestess giggled, and it was a better relief than the breeze that was slowly blowing across the hills. “Please, Daenerys. I’m covered in dust.”

“I am, too. Let’s wash up when we ride back - together?”

She caught Y/N’s bright eyes under the hood, and they sparkled as she blushed and tugged the hood further down. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

So it was decided. By the time they reached the gates of Meereen and entered the Great Pyramid, Y/N had dropped her hood and her easy, serene face had returned. She disregarded the suspicious looks, she gave an easy nod to Missandei, who returned a tentative smile. As far as anyone knew, Y/N’s mind was wrapped in her usual visions and prayers.

Until Daenerys brushed her dirty hair aside and smiled at her, then Y/N’s cheeks blushed and her eyes widened in that adorable way. She let the khaleesi take her hand, entwine their fingers, and guide her to the great baths. Y/N’s red cloak fluttered behind her, drawing attention to them. Some Unsullied guards probably saw, and surely others, but Daenerys didn’t care.

She’s like fire, and I am a dragon - how could she bring any harm to me?

#Daenerys Targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #libra fics

312 notes · View notes

undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years

Text

With You When You’re Down: A ROTTMNT FanFiction One-Shot

I’m dedicating this one to @jadethest0ne who also helped come up with the title. Its also dedicated to anyone who ever battled depression or any other mental illness

Summary: It’s ok to feel sad sometimes, and right now Donnie doesn’t even have the will to get out of bed. But thats ok, why? Because he has a amazing family whose going to help him feel better.

Characters: Donnie, Leo, MIkey, Raph, Splinter

Pairings: I am NOT even kidding this time. You look at this fic with anything but ‘oh aren’t they a nice family’ feeling in your heart i”m going to sic my new pet Dragon Reggie on you. He loves eating t**st shippers and he’s hungry.

“Has anyone seen Purple?”

Raph tried to answer but apparently forgot he had just been trying to fit three burritos in his mouth and let out a loud choked noise but managed not to actually die. He bit through the burritos to clear his mouth and shook his head, “No Pops sorry,” before resuming his task of fitting as many burritos in his mouth as humanly possible.

Splinter frowned, “Red, I’ve told you this before. Small bites please, you’re too big for me to give the heimlich to anymore.” Even though Raph gave him a pained look and his shoulders sagged, he instead began to work on two burritos at once. “I’m going to check on your brother, no one dare Raphael to put anything bigger than his head in his mouth.” Before looking directly at Leo who was already using breakfast fixings to fill an abnormally large tortilla shell. The blue turtle gave him a nervous smile before leaning back in his seat with a pout. Splinter went over to the coffee maker, knowing it was safer to approach a possibly sleeping Donatello with a peace offering than just running in and expecting him to be cool with it. Last time he had tried that, he had been three feet taller.

The rat dad took Donatello’s favorite mug and stepped to Donatello’s room, tapping the entryway, “Purrrple? It’s almost two, you may be tired but I brought you a treat.” He sang. When he didn’t get answer he frowned, normally Donnie would give a loud shriek followed by ‘DADI’MBUSYITSSCIENCESCIENCESCIENCELETMEINPEEEAAAACCCCCEEEE!’. It wasn’t like Purple to not answer. He could still be asleep but even then he would have woken up in a rage and thrown something at him. While he normally respected his sons privacy’s enough to go to their rooms without permission (except to ‘borrow’ Mikey’s shirts), he called, ”Purple I’m coming in.” he ducked under the curtain. The room lacked normal hum that would come from Don’s inventions and instead left the small space in silence. He almost thought Donnie was still asleep.

Til a small sob reached him.

Splinter went into the small connecting room that was Don’s sleep nook. Even in the darkness he could see Donatello was still curled up on his bed, wrapped up in his blankets like a cocoon, “Purple? Its Dad,” out of the corner of his eye Splinter could see the shattered remains of Donatello’s phone on the ground, considering Donnie once had a meltdown when Leo joked about touching his phone without permission, that wasn’t a good sign, “Purple?”

The form on the loft bed twisted around, rolling over like a caterpillar forming a cocoon to look over the edge down on him, a pair of blood shot swollen eyes peered down at him, a small sniff escaped the small confides of the cocoon as Don rubbed his face against his blanket again.

Splinter could already feel his heart ache, “Aw, Purple.” He set the mug on Don’s desk as he climbed up the loft ladder, “Can I sit?” He asked the turtle, without lookin at him, Don’s head dipped in a nod. Splinter sat on the edge of his mattress, rubbing his sons shell over his blanket, “Are we not feeling ourselves today?” He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, but instead heard a small sad noise come from him again. Splinter remembered seeing a box of tissues sitting on his desk, snaking his tail down underneath the bed and pulling the box up to his level, “Here my son.” He set the tissue box by Donatello’s head who didn’t hesitate to take several tissues in his hands and wipe at his face. Splinter placed a soft hand on the back of Don’s head, “It’s ok my Purple Plum. We all have days like this. I’ll tell your brothers to not bother you and let you rest your soul.” Splinter moved his palm from the back of Don’s scalp to the side of his face, using his thumb to wipe a stray tear that escaped Don’s eye, “Is that alright with you my son?”

Don gave him a weak, if appreciative, smile as he nodded. Splinter held his sons face for a few more seconds before climbing down from his bed. He remembered the coffee mug he had brought it and carried it back up the ladder, “Here my boy.” He held out the mug for him, “Pure Black, just the way we like it.”

Don took the mug, squirming to a upright position, giving Splinter another appreciative , if small, smile before resting his face over the warm drink, “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you.” Splinter promised before climbing down the ladder one last time before leaving the room.

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Splinter had explained to them that Don wasn’t having a great day. A feeling Raph understood too well, but that didn’t make it easier to know one of his brothers was suffering too. Of course, his first reaction to finding out had been to go check on Don, at least before Splinter caught him and made him promise not to go in there with the purpose of asking him a ton of ‘are you ok’ questions and draining his mental health more than it already was.

So, for the first part of the morning, he focused on his rubix cube. Though it was second nature at this point to twist it in the right shape, it did nothing to distract him. He had considered maybe getting his other rubix cube and go challenge Don to a rubix cube race, but Splinter hadn’t thought it was a good idea. He said they shouldn’t stress Don anymore then possible (and if they did, he would ground them to the moon and back). The big and beautiful turtle let out a sigh, setting his rubix cube down as he absentmindedly looked around his room. It was hard knowing his brother was in such a state without a way to help him, but then his eyes fell on a certain pink caboodle and a giant smile encompassed his face.

Raph snatched it up and jogged out of his room, making a beeline for Don’s. Leo, who was doing a handstand on his skateboard, saw where he was heading and looked like he was going to try and stop him til Raph held up the caboodle for him to see. The red slider narrowed his eyes before giving him a nod of approval. Raph had to stop from bursting into Don’s room and take a moment to knock, “coming in buddy!” He said ducking under the curtain. The form on the bed twitched before Don looked towards the entrance with a look of surprise on his face, “Oh, sorry” Raph apologized weakly, “I should have asked permission,” he said as Don’s gave him a slight frown and laid back down on his bed with his shell to him. Don’s bed was covered in used tissues and an empty tissue box lay on the floor as though Don had tossed it aside when it lost its usefulness to him. “I’m sorry,” Raph apologized again in a softer voice. He sometimes forgot his loudness could unintentionally set off Don’s headaches and sensory issues. “I didn’t come in here to stress you out if that helps,” he started. “The last time I was depressed, Dad did my nails for me. So, I thought I’d see if you wanted me to do yours!” He held up his caboodle, ‘“Mikey’s been giving me lessons too so I won't mess up so bad!” Raph took a moment to check the volume and tone of his voice, he didn’t want Don to feel like he wasn’t giving him a choice, “I mean it's up to you.”

For the first time since Raph entered the room, Donnie looks at him from over his shoulder, his expression is softer this time, as though forgiving Raph for coming to his room so loud. A few months ago, Donnie told him that Raph reminded him of a large dog that always forgot it wasn’t a puppy anymore, but he had said it with a smile so it couldn’t be an entirely bad thing. He looks to the caboodle then to his nails and gives a nod so slight Raph almost misses it. “Ok cool!” Raph sets the caboodle on the desk under Don’s bed, “I think I have just the color, I saw it the other day when I was shopping with Mikey and it made me think of you.” He pulled out a thing of purple nail polish, “It’s glow in the dark,” he holds it up. In the dark room the purple contents give a soft glow, “And there’s glitter in it. It kinda reminded me of space so I figured you’d like it. Do you want me to use this?”

Don studies it for a moment, but then nods again, “Ok cool times two!” Before he starts, he notices Don doesn’t have his telltale hoodie, a source of comfort for him, “Hey if you want, while your nails are drying, I’ll do a load of your laundry and bring you one of your hoodies back. I’ll ask Leo for help so I don’t accidentally use the wrong fabric softener. Is that ok?” He once again gets a soft nod and sets to work. He also makes sure to clean the tissues off Don’s bed and bring him a new box before leaving to do his promised laundry.

(V)(V)(V)(V)

Mikey slid his spatula underneath the newly formed toasted sandwich before setting it carefully on a plate with a few cut up carrots on the side and a cup of oyster crackers. He takes a moment to check the tray for everything he was going to need - Mikey’s phone, a meal, a box of hand wipes, and a water jug of sugar free sports drink. With a nod of satisfaction, he picks up the tray and makes his way to Don’s room, using his foot to tap the outside of Don’s room before ducking in. “Hey Donnie!” he says with his trademark large smile. The softshell turtle was propped up on a few pillows wearing a purple hoodie with the hood up and looking at his nails when he looked at him with a nod of greeting, “I brought you something to help you feel better.” He practically skips over, “Last time I was sad, Raph made sure that I had water and ate something. Even if you’re not hungry now.” He almost laughs at the suspicious way Don was studying the sandwich, “Don’t worry it's not a Leo sandwich, it’s toasted mustard and ketchup. Your favorite.” Don nods at him, but sets the food aside. Mikey made a mental note to check later to make sure that Donnie actually ate. He did feel better to see Don drink out of the water jug before the hand wipes caught the soft shell turtles attention, “Oh that’s something Leo taught me too. It’s a good way to clean yourself without having to take a shower. I know you don’t like feeling dirty, so I figured you’d like it. There’s also some gum to clean your teeth”

Don blinks at him before opening the container. Its only then Mikey notices the soft purple glow coming from his nails, “Aw! I see Raph was here too!” Don nodded, he was already using a hand wipe to clean his neck and face. Mikey picked up the trash can and pulled Don’s chair around so it could rest it on it. Giving Don a closer vantage to it. He figures Don will finish his ‘hand wipe bath’ when he’s got privacy. “Hey dude you remember that AMV I was making for Jupiter Jim the Musical? The one made like a silent film??” He paused, thinking for a moment, “wait, actually how is it a musical if it’s a silent film?” He looks to Don for the answer, as he usually does, but Don just shrugs. “I was thinking of using a StarSet song, and since you basically listen to them all the time I thought I’d ask you for help picking one out. Is that ok?”

Honestly he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe having Don roll away. He should of asked Leo if this was a good idea but instead Donnie scooted away from the ladder, patting the spot he had been sitting in. With a smile that can barely be contained by his round naturally happy face Mikey climbs up the ladder taking out his phone and pulling up the StarSet playlist he had made. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Don rests his cheek on his scalp but makes sure to give him a smile before starting the playlist.

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Leo honestly hates it when the Lair is quiet. Even though it’s barely evening, it feels almost unnatural for a home that had seen so many fires that he was sure the fire department would condemn them. Hours earlier, Splinter had told them that Donnie was experiencing a depressive episode and that they should respect his space and privacy as much as possible. But of course, had he been told his favorite Donnie was in such a state a few months earlier, he would have run through the wall and trapped Donnie in a death cuddle from which there was no escape. But at this point he knew better, so even though he watched Splinter, Raph and Mikey go visit Donnie at different times during the day, he stayed his distance, staying close enough that if he heard anything he could interfere.

So now he sits at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers on the surface. If anyone had been in the room with him, they would tell him to take a breath and stop feeling so anxious. But he can’t help it. Anxiety was a nasty devil who lived in your brain reminding you of all your mistakes you’ve made and all your mistakes to come.

Leo leans back in his seat, and takes a deep breath.

The anxiety feels further away.

The turtle stands up and stops by his room long enough to pick up his favorite blue hoodie. He makes sure to take a deep breath before knocking on Don’s door (I think you should specify which door), “Your favorite Leo’s coming in.” He calls gently before ducking under the curtain. He’s almost surprised to see the room still so clean, he can see clean clothes hanging from Don’s closet and a trash can situated on a chair by Don’s bed is filled with tissues and wipes. It fills his heart to know his brothers cared so much to come in here and to do little things to help him.

But Don doesn’t even roll over to acknowledge him, he can barely see Donnie scrub at his eyes again before curling up under his blanket. With a soft sigh, Leo walks over and climbs up the ladder, “Still not feeling ok buddy?” He asks crossing his arms over the top rung and resting his head on them as Donnie nodded in agreement. ”It's ok,” he drummed his fingers over the surface of Don’s mattress, picking up a few stray crumbled tissues and dropping them over the side of the bed. “Remember when I had my bad day a few weeks ago? I went to my room and refused to come out. I was a little angrier than I think you are now. But you came in and just hung out with me? You set up a projector in my room and we watched Jupiter Jim movies all night and you did that JJ impression that always makes me laugh.” He couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory. Eventually his room was full of their small family all curled up on his bed watching a low budget sci-fi movie series, even Splinter (who had some beef JJ he didn’t understand) joined in. Mikey sat on Raph’s shoulders doodling on his mask as Leo laid his head on Donnie's lap and laughed himself silly.

Leo blinks out of his memory and smiles up at him “You know what? Give me a sec.” He leaps off the ladder and hurries to Don’s lab. It feels almost eerie to see all his inventions shut down, but he snatches up Donnie’s tablet from its charging station and comes back to Don’s bed. “I’m actually kinda bored, wanna hang out and watch Ted Talks?” At first Don doesn’t look at him, his eyes were so swollen that Leo wasn’t entirely sure he could see anything. He was prepared to leave if Don wanted him to, but is relieved when Donnie nodded. Leo beams as he scrambles up the ladder. He gathers the pillows around to make a makeshift seat for the two of them, snuggling into his spot. “Not to sound too humble, but I can basically make the best pillow throne ever right Donnie-Dee?” He smiles praising his naturally humble nature before he scoots over enough to give Donnie space free of him but is again surprised when Donnie curls up next to him and rests his head on Leos’ shoulder. At first, he thought Don just wanted to see the screen better. But then his immediate brother begins to tremble, pulling down the rim of his hoodie down to to cover his face as he began to sob softly.

The blue masked turtle immediately wraps his arms around his brother, resting his cheek on his brother's scalp. He is unsure what he could say to comfort him, but when he felt Don press his face into his shoulder, he knew this would suffice.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there rocking his favorite weeping Donnie in his arms. But slowly he felt Don’s sobs fade away with his trembles, and eventually he pulls his face away enough to pull his tears tainted hoodie away from his face. Leo, without releasing his hold, pulls the box of tissues closer. “It’s ok to feel sad sometimes,” he says rubbing his cheek against Don’s temple to give him the space to wipe his eyes. “Just don’t forget that we love you Dee. We’ll always be here to take care of you. Your big brain knows that right?” He said peering at his brother's face. Donnie gave him a shaky smile and a nod, “See? That’s why you’re the smart one buddy.” Leo says with a smile

A soft noise escapes Donnie that Leo realizes is supposed to be a laugh, and he rubs his scalp. He settles back to hold the tablet up when Don reaches over to a plate Leo hadn’t noticed and tore a grilled sandwich in half, before pausing and stuffing one of the sides with some few remaining carrot sticks. Leo grins. “Aw see? You know me so well,” he says taking the carrot sandwich half with one hand and holding up the tablet with the other so Don could see it. Later, when Don was obviously getting annoyed with the flawed logic behind the Ted Talks, Leo would mute the screen and give his best impression of what he thought the ‘experts’ were saying. Even though Don laughed, it wasn’t so much Leo’s humor it was the horrible jokes that had him drag a hand down his face and succumbing to giggles. Later that night, they would be joined by the rest of their family. There wasn’t room for a projection screen, but Mikey brought in several of his favorite board games and they made a circle that would include Don’s bed. Sharing stories and telling jokes long into the night. Though Don didn’t share any stories, he laughed louder than everyone else, and at one point had to escape Leo’s ‘tickle torture’ when he rolled his eyes too many times at his jokes.

But nothing could keep the smile off his face after that.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #donnie #leo #mikey #raph #spllinter #hurt/comfort #depression #undercoverwizardninjaturtle #it’s ok to feel sad #jade #support rottmnt

173 notes · View notes

mangekyuou · 4 years

Text

LET ME IN ━ﾞ

⁺◟ CHARACTERS . . . kujo jotaro fem!reader holly ‘ joseph ‘ suzi q ‘ jolyne mentions of the crusaders

⁺◟ GENRE . . . angst fluff oneshot

⁺◟ SYNOPSIS . . . 1989 was a scary year for jotaro. from the threat of his mother dying to going all the way to egypt to fight a vampire who took over his great great grandfather’s body. when coming back to japan, he finds out about, ( y/n ), the principal’s daughter’s who had brought his work home and took care of his mother while he was gone. after getting to know her, he does something he has never done before, let someone in and tell them how he’s feeling.

⁺◟ TRIGGER WARNINGS . . . mentions of death ‘ mental illness ptsd ‘ depression

⁺◟ WORD COUNT . . . 4.7k.

⁺◟ COMMENTARY . . . i originally didn’t plan for this to be this long. i have NEVER written so many words. oh wow.

Tap...tap...tap, the bamboo well sounded to the right of a young schoolgirl dressed a purple uniform, the ascot on her uniform being dark blue with a small mermaid tail on one the sides that her mother had stitched into it to make the young woman stand out, despite her will to never stand out.

School had let out a few hours ago, and she, ( y/n ) was tasked with heading to the Kujo household to give Jotaro his homework for the past few weeks.

The tall, muscular delinquent had pretty much disappeared from their school. He just up and left, without a word. Leaving his grades and fanclub to somewhat suffer, which was where ( y/n ) came in.

One of the top and most well behaved students at their school, trusted by the admiration. She was known for her good girl status across the campus. But she was fairly timid, quiet and, very reserved. If she spent half as much time as she did focusing on her work, she would have more friends than she did.

But what could you expect from her? It was expected of her. Her father was the school’s principal, while her mother was a college professor. She was expected to be smart and top of her class. Anything lower than that would be unacceptable. It was stressed to her from a young age from both of her parents as well as the rest of her family, as they had high expectations for her future, hoping she would become a doctor or a lawyer, even if she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life after high school at this point.

Now the principal’s daughter stood in front of the luxurious Kujo home, coming just from school, holding a large vanilla folder full of worksheets, handwritten notes from her very own journal that she copied onto her own loose-leaf paper because she ran out of printer paper at home and she was too scared to ask her mother for more, and many more papers that served as guides that would help Jotaro with all of his homework and studies since he wasn’t in class for the lessons.

She didn’t want to be here. She barely even knew the guy, only having any a handful of encounters with him.

He was her lab partner for a physics project once, but the two never talked after that. They had barely talked during the project. She tried to introduce herself and he blew her off, wanting to do the project alone. But he came around in the end, helping her but he wasn’t in school the day the two had to present as he was rumored to have been arrested the night before for beating a group of thugs to a pulp.

She always felt weird around him, like she was unwanted and she understood, trying to stay out of his hair often the project but at the discretion of her father, once again here she was having to meet the cold individual because he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

In his own words: “You two are classmates. I’m sure he’ll be happier to get his work from a classmate rather than a teacher. And you’re one of the only students who doesn’t fangirl around him.”

Right, his fangirls who were both envious and angry at ( y/n ) for getting the chance to go to Jotaro’s home and give him his homework. It’s not like she wanted to do it anyways.

The property was quite gorgeous, and quiet. In a way, too quiet. She crossed the wooden bridge, walking to the home. She felt nervousness fill in her chest, as her heart began to race. She clung on tightly to the vanilla folder, as she approached the door.

Now face to face with the door, she knocked slightly, hoping and praying no one would answer the door, but she was wrong.

A sickly-looking fair headed woman with the prettiest blue-green eyes. Her skin was as pale as paper and beads of sweat decorated her forehead. She looked not only sick but in pain.

“A-Are you okay?” The young girl asked with a look of concern washing over her face.

The fair headed woman gave her a weak smile, “Y-Yes. I’m just a little tired. Luckily, I was already heading to the door when you came. C-Come in...”

“B-But I haven’t introduced myself ye―” She began, stopping midsentence as she watched the older woman’s eyes roll to the back of her head, as her body gave out from under her.

“MRS. KUJO!” She dropped the folder, quickly grabbing Holly before she could reach the ground. Her weak arms barely being able to hold the woman up. She quickly recovered herself, wrapping one of Holly’s arms around her shoulders and leading her over to a futon that sat in the middle of the floor and placing her down gently, “Easy does it.”

Holly opened her eyes, reaching up for her head, “What...what happened?”

“You passed out at the door, Mrs. Kujo, and I caught you before you fell. You only blacked out for a minute.” She placed the back of her hand to Holly’s forehead, feeling the extreme warmth, “You’re burning up. Have you seen a doctor? Do you need me to call an ambulance.”

“N-No! I’ll be okay...please don’t worry about me.”

“It’s kind of hard not to. You fainted at the door. And you’re here with a high fever all alone. Is Jotaro here with you? Is that why he hasn’t been coming to school?”

Holly eyed the girl up and down, noticing her school uniform, “Oh...you must be one of Jotaro’s classmates. He’s not here now and he won’t be here for a while. Did...did you come here to bring his work to him?”

“Yes, is that...is that okay?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want my boy to get behind on his school work.”

The girl lowered her head slightly, “I...I brought extensive notes for him as well, so he could understand the lesson despite not being there for it. If he needs more help, I’d be very happy to help him.”

“What’s your name?”

“( l/n ) ( y/n ), why?”

“Because I wanted to put a name to your face and so I can tell Jotaro who brought his work when he comes back,” Holly said with a smile. For a sickly woman, she sure did smile a lot. She struggled to sit up.

“M-Mrs, Kujo! You should lay down so you don’t hurt yourself,” ( y/n ) warned the woman, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder gently. Holly laid back down, letting a pained whimper.

“I...I should go. I’ll pick up the notes and worksheets and I’ll leave them on the table for Jotaro.”

Holly took ( y/n )’s hand into her soft one, putting her free hand on top of their joint hands, “Could you do one thing for me before you go?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Could you make me shogayu? I could really go for some.”

The young girl nodded, “Of course. It will only be a second.”

And she did just that, making the older woman shogayu. The best damn shogayu she ever made all for the mother of one of her classmates because it made her feel warm on the inside watching Holly smile.

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. Before ( y/n ) knew it, the sun was beginning to set and the moon was beginning to rise. She had gotten lost in conversation with the fair headed woman. It was the best type of conversation to have, one where you could talk about just about anything.

Holly had told embarrassing childhood tales of Jotaro, even some from her own childhood. Even at one point, ( y/n ) had opened up to Holly about her struggle with her own family and she listened. No one had ever listened to her before, at least not like Holly did. Here she felt like she was her own person and not the daughter of her parents.

Much to her dismay, she had to go home. But she made sure that wasn’t the last time she had met Holly.

Many more days after that, she returned to the home to check on her, each day she had gotten worse and it had scared her. She had made a new friend who was getting worse and worse by the day. She watched as random men from some unknown foundation came in and hooked her to IVs and many other machines to keep her breathing.

Seeing Holly like this, broke her. There she sat, on her knees in front of Holly’s futon, the sound of beeping from the machine and sniffles filled the now silent room. She had been since school had let out, her backpack was tossed across the room as she ran to Holly’s side to keep her company. Even if she was out cold, she still wanted to be there for her when she woke up. She held onto her hand, just like the first night she met the hair headed woman, how Holly held onto her hand, as she softly sang Japanese lullabies her own mother sang to her when she was sick.

The last few days were the worst, being told that Holly was on the verge of death and she didn’t understand why. She was told nothing. What was killing her? Why was she dying? Why were all these people from this organization here? What was going on?

She didn’t understand. Not even when a much older woman had walked in, claiming to be Holly’s mother. ( y/n ) didn’t talk much, only worrying about Holly’s condition. She had cried over someone else’s mother than she had over anything else. She had never experienced loss and she was afraid to.

Not only was the thought of losing a friend and mother figure on her mind, but the scary reality that Jotaro could be gone and his mother could die without even getting to tell him that she loves him one last time.

But her thoughts had disappeared one day.

It started out just like any day. After the dismissal bell had sounded through every room of the school, the girl rushed to grab her things, shoving them into her backpack and practically running out of the school and to the Kujo home.

Just as she reached the bridge, she halted. Standing on the other side was the tall stoic boy.

Jotaro was back.

There he stood in all his glory. He wore a purple tank top, his arm wrapped in a cast, a sling around his neck to hold it up. His upper arms on either side were decorated in red and purple bruises and elastic bandages. Even without his jacket on, she still recognized those bright blue eyes of his. That is of course without paying attention to his hat.

He noticed the panic and sadness in her eyes. But it wasn’t because she pitied him. He knew why she was here. She was here to check on his mother. He had become aware of her visits to his home from his grandmother, Suzi Q, who even told him, “there were even nights where she didn’t leave and slept over, but she always made sure to leave early in the morning so her family wouldn’t go out looking for her”.

To know that she cared for his mother so much, to come every day after school, it surprised him. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, it warmed his heart. And he knew that that was exactly reason she stood on the other side of the bridge right now, to see if Holly had made it.

He stepped to the side, giving her a clear walkway. He shoved his one hand into the pocket of his pants, looking away from her, “She hasn’t stopped talking about you since she woke up. She’ll be happy to see you.”

( y/n )’s ears peered up at the mention of ‘her’. She knew there was only one person he could be talking about. A look of glee replaced her look of panic and sadness, as she ran across the bridge right into his arms, hugging him gently, careful not to hurt his arm.

“Get off,” He said coldly, returning to the boy she knew. She did as he said, running toward the large home, calling out to Holly who met her halfway, pulling her in for a tight hug.

Dinner was fun that night, Holly inviting ( y/n ) to stay and take a seat between her and Jotaro. Holly quickly introduced the young girl to Joseph who had thanked her profusely for taking care and keeping his only baby girl company for as long as she did.

Jotaro had struggled slightly with his meal, the young girl had offered to help. Even after he declined a few times, she still helped him. And he watched her. Not in angry or annoyance, but in admiration and astonishment. From what he had recalled about his minimal encounters principal’s daughter, he wasn’t very nice to her. But here she was, in his home, trying to help him eat. And for the first time in a long time, he let go and allowed her to help him.

In the following weeks, she helped him get back on track with his studies, taking things slowly as he still injured and often would zone out when she was talking.

Unsure whether to ask him or not, she had asked his grandfather Joseph and she learned the truth or at least part of the truth. Her inability to see Stands had made it hard for the old man to explain some parts of what had happened to not only Jotaro but him and a friend they made along the way to Egypt.

She learned of the deaths of three.

Avdol.

Iggy.

Kakyoin.

All friends of Jotaro’s. Dead. Gone. Never coming back. He can never see them again. Never talk to them, never tell them how they made him feel. Joseph was mumbling on about survivor’s guilt when it hit her. He wasn’t only hurting physically but mentally as well. It was all too much for a 17-year-old to handle, let alone an adult! But yet here he was, trying to push onto the next day. Acting tough, like nothing ever happened.

She knew it was wrong to just bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it with her. I mean who was she? Just a classmate of his. She wasn’t a friend. She wasn’t family. She was just a classmate who helped him on the side to help get his grades back up.

But she couldn’t lie and pretend she didn’t know, especially when the death of his three friends was beginning to affect his grades again. And so she told him.

“Jotaro...if you ever need someone to talk to...about anything...anything at all...I’m here for you and I will always be here for you. And I hope you know that.”

Though he didn’t say anything that day, he took her words and held onto them.

Weeks had passed since then and they were now about to graduate. She was top of the class, followed closely behind by Jotaro, who was only a point behind her.

Just by pure coincidence, the two had gotten accepted into the same university in America. He was going into marine biology, and she, law. According to Holly, it was somehow fate trying to tell her something but she blew it off and prepared for her great big move to America which would be happening soon.

During the night, on her last week in Japan, there was a light tapping at her window, waking her up. It was Jotaro at her window. She opened the window, asking him if something was wrong. Not only was it pitch black outside and probably past midnight, but he had never done this before.

But her questions were answered when she looked into his eyes, not seeing that tall, stoic man, but a sensitive young man who has been through a lot. He opened his mouth and reminded her of her own words, “( y/n ), do you remember you said I could talk to you about anything?”

“Of course I do, Jojo.”

“Are...are you available to talk right now?”

How was she going to say now? She allowed the man to climb into her bedroom, closing the window behind him. And he told her everything, from start to finish, beginning to end.

He told her about his Stand, Star Platinum, and the first time it had appeared. He told her of seeing Star’s true potential and when he learned of what a Stand really was. He told her of the friends he made along the way, the friends he had lost at the very end before coming home. He even told her why he left and why Holly was sick.

The man was sobbing by the end of it. She, not knowing how else to comfort him, pulled him in for a hug, allowing him to let out and thanking him for trusting her with such information. Though he found himself embarrassed for crying in front of her, she tried to let him know that it was okay to cry sometimes.

“Thank you, Jojo.”

“For what?”

“Letting me inside, letting me comfort you, letting me hold you.”

But that was all in 1989.

It was now 1999.

Ten years had past and the two were still inseparable.

Well, almost.

The now much older woman let out an annoyed whine, as she leaned against the side of the brown desk. She placed both of her hands onto the surface of the desk before scooting up onto it, much to the dismay of the man sitting next to her who was concentrated on a stack of papers in front of him.

“Jojo, I finally get some time between cases and you head off to leave us again?”

“I don’t particularly want to. Joseph wants me to.”

( y/n ) folded her arms across her chest, letting out a huff, “I forgot. Joseph’s illegitimate son is all the new rave. I know Grandma Suzi is taking it rough. I wonder how Mom is taking it.”

“I’m not sure and I don’t think I want to know right now. I’m only going to Morioh to investigate. I’ll be back before you know it,” He added, his eyes still scanning over the papers in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, “You always say that. You and this Stand stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever understand and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You could have married a girl with a Stand.”

“But I didn’t. You’re the perfect one for me.”

He had proposed a year and a half into their relationship, the pair getting married at the young age of 20. He had married his best friend and the woman who listened to him. A year later the pair welcomed their first and only child, Jolyne, Holly being the one who picked out her name.

Even at a young age, she had developed Jotaro’s personality and a modified version of his catchphrase, which annoyed her mother, hoping she would at least develop something from her.

In reality, she did. She developed ( y/n )’s annoyance toward Jotaro’s frequent absence. Oh, and her eyes.

The man took his wife’s left hand into his own, looking down at her wedding band and diamond engagement ring. She always wore both. Why just wear one when both were gorgeous? He continued, “I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Stand or not, you’re the only woman I want. Not for your looks, even though you’re the most beautiful woman alive. Not for your talents, even though you’re the most talented woman I know. Hell not even for your job, even though you’re the best damn lawyer on the face of this Earth. I love you because of your personality, because you’re my rock, you’re the woman who I trust my life with.”

“You’re only getting soft on me because you know you’re going to be gone for a while, don’t you?” The woman questioned, trying not to swoon over his words. It had worked many times before but now this time. They had been married for eight years now. She knew him inside and out.

He was smart enough not to answer, kissing her knuckles.

“You’re unbelievable, Jojo. But you flatter me. Do you really trust me with your life? Even if I don’t have a Stand?”

“You’re the only one I will ever trust. You said it yourself back when we were teenagers. That night when I came to your door, I let you inside. I let you comfort me. I let you hold me. And I don’t think I could ever do that with another person, let alone another woman,” He answered truthfully, pulling his wife of eight years from his desk, onto his lap.

( y/n ) giggled, “You’re still my stoic romantic. I love you, Jojo.”

“I love you too, ( y/n ).”

The woman wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate, loving kiss. He kissed back, wasting little time, wrapping one strong arm around her waist, pulling her as close as he could get. His strong chest had collided with hers, their fragrances intermixing with one another to create a new one, love.

He could feel her warmth, and she could feel his. It wasn’t often he would let her kiss him like this. It was always a simple peck on the cheek or sometimes on the lips.

She missed this. She missed her husband.

In marrying him, she knew he wasn’t the most affectionate man, so when he was affectionate, she didn’t waste a single touch, a single hug, a single kiss. She had always waited for it. And when it came, it had always made her giddy like a little child, this moment they shared in his office.

Interrupting their kiss, a small ‘yuck’ sounded from a crack in the door. Jotaro had pulled away from your lips, an audible whine leaving her lips. Jotaro looked toward the track in the door, seeing their daughter peeping at the two of them with a look of disgust.

Seeing as now she was caught, Jolyne’s eyes widened before she rubbed her eyes and opening the door. She faked a yawn, stepping into the office, “Mommy, I had a bad dream―”

“Jolyne, no need to lie. We both know you were standing right there the entire time. No one else is in the house but the three of us.”

The young girl, put her small hands behind her back, “Maybe...maybe there’s someone else in the house.”

( y/n ) raised an eyebrow, “Someone else in the house? Like a monster.” A small devilish grin appeared on her face. There was something about that grin that made set a flame inside of him. He knew what she was doing and decided to play along.

Jotaro hummed, “There might be a monster in the house. I remember seeing it on the way to work just when I stopped in Jolyne’s room to kiss her forehead before I left. He was in the closet.”

Jolyne’s eyes widened once more at the mention of a monster being in her closet. She stood frozen, as parents continued to relish over seeing some kind of monster. Her mother continued, “I think that was a different one. The one I saw was under her bed. It had long skinny hands with razor-sharp claws. It even asked me if it could eat her and I said―”

Before she could finish, Jolyne ran into her parents, pulling them both in for a tight hug as she sobbed, “MOMMY! DADDY! PLEASE DON’T LET THEM GET ME! I WON’T SPY ANYMORE! I WON’T BE BAD! PLEASE! DON’T LET THEM GET ME!”

“J-Jojo. There are no monsters. We were just messing with you. Daddy killed all the monsters,” ( y/n ) explained, trying to soothe the now sobbing Jolyne.

Jolyne sniffled, “Really?”

Jotaro kissed his daughter’s head, “Yes, I did. No monsters will ever get to you. I promise. Monsters...they’re scary but we have to fight them sometimes and if I didn’t fight the monsters I did, I wouldn’t have met your mother and you wouldn’t be here. After fighting the real monsters, I fought monsters that were in my head.”

Jolyne gasped, listening to her father, “Monsters can get in your head?”

Her father nodded, “They get in there and they stay in there. They suck the life out of you and remind you of what went wrong.”

( y/n ) listened closely, watching as Jolyne had slowly retracted her arms, climbing into her mother’s lap. Jotaro reached up slightly, wiping away the tears that had fallen from Jolyne’s emerald green eyes, which reminded him of what used to be. He continued.

“And when monsters get in your head it’s hard to get them out. Sometimes...people don’t get them out.”

“What happens when the monsters don’t come out?”

“It depends. Sometimes that person, goes a while they move on to a better place,” He tried to explain, not wanting to explain the concept of death to the seven-year-old.

Jolyne blinked, “But they come back, right? They have family and friends so they can’t leave, right?”

( y/n ) looked to her husband, noticing the sudden change in his face. She knew this was a sensitive subject. Though he claimed to be over the death of his friends, she knew he wasn’t. You don’t just get over the death of someone close to you.

To this day, he often woke up in cold sweats from nightmares about his trip to Egypt, seeing his friends die before his eyes and not being able to do anything about it.

His most recent nightmare being one about his own wife and daughter become victims of DIO. Hearing their screams and cries had stuck in his mind and wouldn’t leave. He...he broke out into tears in his sleep. ( y/n ) had woken him up from nightmare, and he hugged her tighter than he ever hugged her before. He even brought a sleeping Jolyne into the master bedroom, so he could watch over the most two important women in his life.

( y/n ) opened her mouth to speak, but Jotaro was quicker, “Sometimes, they don’t come back and they can’t come back. But when you have the right people to talk to and you have someone at your side, they can get better. I got a little better because your mother helped me fight my mind monsters.”

Jolyne looked to her mother in amazement, her eyes sparkling in joy, “Mommy, can fight mind monsters?! That’s so cool!”

He nodded in agreement, “She is really cool. She’s very cool. And I’m so happy I met her and opened up to her. And it was all because of―”

“GRANDMA!” Jolyne interrupted him, holding her small fists in the air with stars in her eyes. ( y/n ) ruffled her daughter’s hair gently, kissing her cheek, “I’m going to go make dinner―”

“No need. I already made it,” Jotaro chimed.

“But you didn’t...”

“Yeah! I’m ready to eat!”

With the flash of light, the couple’s emerald-eyed daughter had bolted out of the office.

( y/n ) was suspicious, “You stopped time to make dinner, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You’ll never know.”

She smiled at her husband, taking his hat off and putting it on her own head, “I’ll be taking this, Mr. Kujo.”

The man stood up from his chair, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her into his broad chest once more. He took his hat back, before unraveling his arm, earning an eye roll from the woman, “You’re such a tease, Mr. Kujo.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass, Mrs. Kujo.”

“But you love it.”

“You’re damn right, I do.”

A now annoyed voice spoke from the door, “Yare yare dawa...CAN YOU TWO STOP KISSING AND COME EAT?! I CAN’T REACH THE PLATES!”

⁺◟ BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

163 notes · View notes

tipsycad147 · 3 years

Text

Binding and Banishing 5

Ice Binding 1

Light a white candle and your favorite incense. Meditate a short while

on the problem. Invoke the Spirits of Protection for you and yours. Then

take a piece of brown paper, like from a grocery bag, on it use a lead

pencil to print and write the name of the offending person or people. If

unknown people are involved, also print and write, "and all persons unknown

that are causing harm to me!"

Cross off each line forcefully and say, forcefully,

" I freeze name(s) to be bound by this spell, unable to cause any more

harm to (name(s)! As I will, so mote it be! "

Then put a spoonful of used coffee grounds on the brown paper, fold it

small, and place it in the freezer. Leave it until the problem is

completely resolved. You may wish to wrap a rubber band, string, twist tie, etc. to keep the coffee grounds from falling out of the paper. You can also use a ziploc bag. Be sure and burn the candle completely up. Don't use that candle for a different purpose.

Ice Binding 2

Another way of ridding yourself of an unwanted negative influence is to write the name of the person or event at cause on a piec of paper. Concentrate on putting the negative energy into the paper. Place the piece of paper into a jar of water and put it into the freezer. Allow the paper to remain frozen in the water until all of the negative energy flow has completely stopped, then you can remove it, thaw it, and bury it in the ground.

NEW BEGINNING SPELL

Just before sunrise, go outside with some heather and a feather. Face East, light incense, and hold feather in hand while concentrating on the new day ahead as a new beginning. Say: Flight of feather, Scent of Heather Give me Cleansing With this beginning! Blow feather from hand and let the wind carry it away. Watch the sunrise and feel its rays cleansing you for the new day ahead. It is done.

PEACEFUL HOME

This spell is very good if there is a lot of turmoil or stress in the household. Do the following spell, and while doing so, remember to focus on your intent for a peaceful household. Sew a small pouch of lavender cloth. Place a small trinket in the pouch for each member of your household. Add to this a pinch each of lavender, rose and chamomile, before placing each pinch in the pouch, remember to hold it for a moment and REALLY focus, finally, add a small amethyst. Now, anoint a lavender or pink candle with peace oil(see recipes) and then light it. Sit in front of the candle and hold the pouch in your hands and whisper the following chant over it softly 3 times: Blessed Goddess, most gentle one, calm my home for me. Relieve all tension, send it far, so from stress we shall be free. Touch my family with peace and calm, and the sweetest softest bliss, Bless my home, Great Gentle Goddess, with your calming kiss. Set the pouch with the candle. Allow the candle to burn down completely. Hang the pouch in your home, preferably in the room where everyone gathers the most. Whenever tension seems to build, repeat the above chant 3 times and envision peace and tranquility radiating from the pouch and The Goddess.

Poppet Binding Spell

The purpose of this spell is to rid yourself of the negative energies of someone who is mentally or emotionally abusing you. If done properly, it will not harm the object of the spell nor will it affect his or her daily life in any way. It will simply make the person powerless to mentally or emotionally harm you.

Preform when Moon is dark

Materials:

Small cloth doll,(poppet) leave the head unstitched until you are ready to begin the ritual Needle and thread

Some personal item from the person you want to bind (fingernail clippings, hair, handwriting sample)

Black ribbon

Black candle

Cauldron or other fireproof container

Sterilized needle

Piece of parchment paper and pen or quill

One candle at each quarter (optional)

Ritual:

Call the quarters - I like to use candles at each quarter to form a circle of fire for extra protection. Light the black candle Concentrating deeply on the person you are binding, place the personal object inside the head of the doll and sew it shut.Tie the black ribbon around the poppet's head, signifying the binding of that person.

'With harm to none, my will be done

I hereby bind you (name of person)

Your words cannot harm me

Your thoughts cannot harm me

You cannot harm me'

Continue chanting this or something like it until you feel power surging through you. Visualize the person helpless to slander or verbally and mentally abuse you while you are chanting.

~ Now, to bind the spell ~

If you have a sigil or a craft name, sign it on the small piece of paper. If not, sign your own full name. If others are working the ritual with you, they too should sign the paper. With the sterilized needle, prick one of your fingers and put a small drop of blood over your signature. Again, if others are working with you, they should place a drop of blood over their signatures. (using a different needle, of course) Fold the paper, light it on fire and drop it into the cauldron (which should be on a heat-proof surface!). Meditate on the flames until the paper completely burns away. If you are working with a group, join hands at this point and feel the power surging around the circle as the spell is bound. Ground and center Release the circle. Thank the Goddess and God for their protection and power Bury the doll as far away from you as possible within the next few days.

RID OF NASTY ASTRAL SLIME

After Chakra cleansings in the evening by the ocean or a large body of water like a river or lake or pond. As the sun sets so your bad fortune will drain away. Hold a stone or object that you find and feel is appropriate and project all the nasty slimy and inky feeling you picked up from this person into it. Really focus on letting all your emotions about it as well and let them flow into the rock. When you have done this say: "I release this astral slime And all darkness which is not mine I let go of all that may have harmed My aura is bright all negativity released And I am charmed" Now throw the rock into the water preferably as the sun drops below the horizon and be conscious of its fading light taking away your bad feelings from this person. You can do this spell on then first night of the waning moon (after a full moon) for seven nights if you really feel tainted. Also Place 1/2 cup vinegar, a bunch of fresh or rosemary and 1 tablespoon of sea salt in your bath. Light a white and a blue candle. Imagine yourself surrounded by blue light, giving you positive energy. Visualize all of the negative energy and astral slime leaving your body through every pore.

SPELL BINDER

This is best used at the end of a spoken or written spell. This adds a certain boost to the releasing of energy. It also works best if you are wearing a Pentagram you have attuned to yourself. Speak these word with all the fibers of your body while releasing the spell's energy: By the Pentagram I wear, Water, Fire, Earth, and Air, Ruled by Spirit as All should be As I speak So Mote It Be!

Spell Breaking or Reversal

from Tesa on the kitchen witch list

This spell is performed to either reverse a spell you have cast, or to break a spell cast by another.

What you need:

Your cauldron

A black or purple candle (purple for spell reversal, black for spell breaking)

During the full or waning moon, place the purple or black candle inside your cauldron. Fill your cauldron about half way with water.The candle should be at least as tall as your cauldron or slightly taller. Focus on the task at hand- imagine the energy from the spell you are reversing or breaking is forming before you into a large ball of light. Imagine that the energy is now moving

toward the candle and inhabiting it. Light the candle as you are focusing

and say, "Break the spell, break the curse, the spell which was cast

is now reversed." Now imagine the energy slowly disappearing and that it no

longer exists. Allow the candle to burn down until it fizzles out in the water. Say, "It is done." Pour the water outside in a stream or into the

ground away from your house. You can bury the candle or throw it out with

the trash.

SPELL TO RID ONESELF OF A BOTHERSOME SPIRIT

Say "What is dark be filled with light, remove this spirit from my sight." Before starting place your hand before you, and start the flow of power out of your hand and then say the words, letting the envisioned blue-white light from your power hand fill the room or house or any other place that you might be.

TO FREE A HOUSE FROM HAUNTING

"The Presence that stands Upon the stairs The unseen hands That move the chairs. The lights that play Across the wall, The stains that stay, The plates that fall, The mist , the chill, The wandering scents This gentle spell must speed them hence. At midnight, set A table neat, With cup and plate, And wine and meat, Invite the ghost To sit and feast, As any host Should urge a guest. Presently, clear The meal away, Then open the door and softly say- "Quick or dead, Thou art fed, Cease to grieve And take thy leave" Bid him depart But should he remain Be calm, take heart And feast him again.

CHARM OF THE BEAST SPELL

-- mugwort angelica 3 hairs of an imposing beast black cloth oil of frankincense or myrrh Mix the mugwort and angelica in equal parts, add to it the 3 hairs and bind together in a black cloth. Add a few drops of the oil onto the cloth. then say " He who is strong, he who is mighty Lend thine power to this charm Demons turn on your heels and run" Draw over it a pentagram and the charms of banishment. Burn the mixture to drive away the spirits that ail you. Burn it in your home or room you wish to exorcise. Bury it before your doorstep and no demon shall touch you nor enter. Wear the charm or hide it in the roof to ensure safety against any ills.

TO BANISH AN UNWELCOME ENTITY

Speak directly to the entity, or in the room most affected, saying: It is time to leave here; all is well. There is nothing here for you now, You must be gone Go now, go ~ complete your passing, Go, and with our blessing fare well. Farewell. Remove everything of the previous occupant ~ writing and photos in particular. If there is anything you wish to keep, purify it with salt or incense, saying: With this I purify you of the past Of hurt and memories Keeping only Love

https://crimsonwolfe.tripod.com/id4.html

4 notes · View notes