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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

huddling.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1482

a/n: found an old incomplete draft and completed it instead of writing something new from scratch because i am ✨ lazy ✨ smh

It’s absolutely freezing.

“I do not think that we’ll be able to make it back to a Wisteria House tonight!” Kyoujurou calls over his shoulder, his booming voice somehow dampened by the roar of the winter gale. Pulling your haori tighter around yourself in a poor attempt to shield yourself from the freezing winds, you do your best to stop your teeth from chattering before calling out a reply to the man in front of you.

“What do we do, then?”

There’s the crunch of Kyoujurou’s zori sandals on the snow as he trudges back to you, his bright hair tossed about relentlessly by the winter storm. Contrary to you, he appears completely unaffected by the cold, a vigorous smile on his face even as the winds batter the two of you. Perhaps it has something to do with him being the Flame Pillar, you think as you try your best not to shiver.

Kyoujurou, of course, notices.

“Are you cold?” He asks, brow furrowed as he looks you over - a cursory glance of concern that has no right making your heart skip a beat as it does. Cheeks heating slightly, you turn away so that he can notice and shake your head, fisting your hands to stop the shivering. It wouldn’t do to have you embarrassing yourself in front of a Pillar.

“No, I’m alright.”

You’re proud of the fact that your teeth only chatters once.

Kyoujurou frowns slightly, and before you can ask him what the matter is, he’s already slipping the haori from his shoulders and stepping forward. Shocked at his offering, you raise your hands to stop him in his tracks, shaking your head desperately. “No, no, I’m really alright, Kyoujurou-san-”

The Flame Pillar pays no heed to your words, humming lightly as he sets the fabric of his haori around your shoulders, smoothing it out with his hands so that it wraps snugly around you. To your surprise, the second the haori settles around your form, you feel yourself enveloped in warmth - Kyoujurou’s gentle warmth woven into every fibre and stitch seeping into your skin.

“Kyoujurou-san, I really...” your words trail off, caught between slight guilt at taking his outer coat in this cold and the desire to continue basking in his warmth. Already, the added layer of protection against the winds make you want to cry with gratefulness. Kyoujurou only laughs at your hesitance, reaching out to sweep some snow off the top of your head.

“It’s no problem! As you are my junior, I should be looking out for you!” His words, simple as they are, are enough to make your heart trip in your chest. He smiles at you once more before his eyes turn razor sharp again, glancing over the expanse of snow behind you before making a quick decision. “We’ll find a cave somewhere and get out of this cold. It wouldn’t do to keep wandering about in the middle of a snowstorm and the mountains are treacherous at night.”

He takes a single step forward, pauses, and glances back at you briefly. You blink at him, a little confused at the way he’s staring at you, before he’s suddenly reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Come on!” Kyoujurou says brightly, even as you gape at him. “I would hate for you to get lost in the snow! This way, I’ll know that you’re always behind me!”

With a gentle tug of his hand, he leads you through the snowstorm, shielding you from the biting winds with his own body. His hand is wonderfully warm, long, strong fingers folding over yours and holding you close behind him. Sure that you’re out of his sight, you finally allow yourself to smile - happiness seeping through the cracks of the professional facade you try to keep up around your senior.

The two of you find a small cave embedded in the side of the mountains after a few minutes of searching. Ducking into the small crevice splitting the rock face, you let out a sigh of relief to finally be out of the wind, drawing Kyoujurou’s haori tighter around yourself.

Deep into the cave, where you can no longer hear the howling of the wind outside, Kyoujurou spots the remains of an old campfire - apparently, both of you aren’t the first ones to take refuge here from the elements. While you pick out the still salvageable twigs to burn later on, Kyoujurou works on starting the fire with a small flint and steel. A few minutes later, the darkness of the cave seems to fade ever so slightly, and you turn around to see your mentor holding up a patch of burning kindling that illuminates his triumphant smile.

“We’ll have to wait out the storm here,” Kyoujurou tells you after he gets the fire going, sitting next to you. Your backs against the wall, both of you watch the little fire you have in front of you crackle merrily, orange gold flames so much like his hair near hypnotising you with the way they dance. You nod, tuck your feet close to you and blow on your hands, because even with Kyoujurou’s cloak, your extremities still feel they might freeze at any moment. If that’s how cold you feel, you wonder how Kyoujurou hasn’t turned into a walking block of ice.

“Kyoujurou-san,” you begin to say, concerned, and his head turns around immediately to look at you with a bright smile. Golden light flicker across half of his face, the other half cast into shadow. Remarkably handsome, you want to say, but instead you ask, “Are you sure you aren’t cold? I mean, I have your haori and I’m still freezing…”

His mouth twitches into a slight smile at your question, but then suddenly he laughs, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Well, when you put it that way, yes, I am very cold right now. Perhaps I should talk to Oyakata-sama about winter uniforms during the next Pillar meeting!” He laughs again at the thought, and his eyes soften. “But I am quite alright. It is more important to me that you will not freeze. I am uncomfortable, but I have been through worse. Do not worry about me!”

That doesn’t sound very good. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glance down at the haori covering you before turning back to the man sitting next to you. “Then, Kyoujurou-san, how about we share?”

He stares at you, a befuddled expression on his face that constitutes of a boyish raise of the eyebrows and a slight scrunch of his nose as he fights back a sneeze. “Share? How?”

“Well,” you hold up his haori in front of you to gauge how much it will cover. And… that was a silly suggestion to make, because you have vastly overestimated the size of his haori, but you also don’t want to go back on your word about sharing it. “Like this…”

Sidling up next to him, you try to press yourself as close as possible to his side without actually touching him, before you toss the haori over the two of you. It ends up failing to cover either of you completely, but at least now you feel less bad about having it all to yourself. “I mean, it’s important to me that you don’t freeze either, Kyoujurou-san.”

Kyoujurou is quiet for a second, before he smiles again, more slowly this time - it’s not bright as the sun, like his usual laughter and grins are, but more gentle and muted, like the small fire in front of you. “That’s very nice to hear,” he says. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to look at him - instead, you keep your eyes firmly focused on the flames in front of you, watching them as sparks swirl into the air.

While they are very pretty, they also make you sleepy in a record amount of time. In almost no time at all, you’re fighting to keep down a yawn, your eyelids starting to droop. When your head nearly falls forward, a gentle hand catches you by the chin and guides your head to rest on a strong shoulder.

You try your best to stay awake, you really do, but Kyoujurou hums lightly, his hand settling lightly on your head. “Just go to sleep,” your mentor says gently as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You’re practically leaning against him at this point, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I’ll take the first watch, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Mmm, wake me up when you want to change over...” you barely manage to make out before your eyes slip shut. You vaguely remember something gentle touching your forehead, but you cannot remember what it was in the least.

All you know is that you slept warmly that night, and that’s enough for you.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny #kny kyojuro

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

Note

Hi hi! I was wondering if you could do a dick Grayson x Avatar like fem reader with either a jealous Babs or Zatanna I hope that made sense🥲

True Love’s Kiss

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think so

Word Count: 4.1K

@writing2sirvive : Hi love, me again but with a request this time. If you have time of course. I was thinking true love’s kiss with Dick Grayson. You can go crazy with it because I know you love Dick Grayson as much as I do. Btw I love your writing so much.

A/N: I think I did it wrong...cuz even though this is a Dick Grayson x reader fic, it’s mostly centred around reader and Zatanna???? Sorry about that???

You were fine with knowing that Dick was still friends with most of his exes. You completely accepted that he was able to keep functional relationships with most of them. In fact, it showed you how amicable and neutral Dick was and how he never held any grudges against people.

Of course, you were surprised by the sheer number. And the fact that he seems to interact with them practically every day. But eventually you managed not to let yourself get too bothered by it.

I mean, how could you? Barbara was the smartest, funniest, most approachable person you had ever met. She always made sure not to overstep her boundaries and was unusually open with you, given that Dick was her ex-boyfriend.

Raquel was adventurous and fun and you always had a good time when you were around her. She was another one who was respectful of your relationship. She never brought up her past flings with Dick, nor did she ever try and put you down. In fact, she was one of the people who really shipped the two of you.

You liked most of his exes. To the point where it made Dick kind of uncomfortable.

You liked most of his exes.

Ever since you had joined the team, being introduced as Nightwing’s significant other, Zatanna had been a constant thorn in your side. She was nice and sweet but there was something about her that rubbed you the wrong way. You could tell almost immediately that she wasn’t quite over her relationship with Dick. Short as it was.

Or maybe she was just the type of person who didn’t want someone, but didn’t want others to have the same person either.

Nonetheless, being around her put you constantly on edge. You lost count of how many times she redirected a conversation to be about her previous relationship with your boyfriend. ‘Oh, Dick took you to a fancy restaurant for your birthday? Well, I remember back when we were dating, he threw a huge party for me on mine.’

‘Oh, you celebrated your one-year anniversary with Dick in Paris? Well during our 3-month-aversary he bought me an expensive necklace.’

It didn’t bother you in the slightest. At least, not in the way that she hoped. It didn’t make you insecure or doubt or feel intimidated by her. It was just an annoyance that you couldn’t shake off, like the teacher you didn’t like or your annoying neighbour.

Unfortunately, Zatanna couldn’t take a hint that it made you and your friends (Barbara and Raquel included) uncomfortable and slightly irritated. Yet, everyone was just waiting for you to express the slightest distaste, not wanting to step on your toes. However, they were quick to change the topic in case they thought she was going too far.

Dick had been blissfully unaware of everything and you wanted to keep it that way. The last thing you needed was this turning into some sort of issue, especially since Zatanna was still his teammate.

However today you had enough.

You could look past Zatanna’s petty jealousy but allowing the jealousy to come to the forefront during a mission was where you drew the line.

Dick, M’Gann and Conner had been on a covert mission for Batman and out of the country and under team vote decided that you should be made in charge until he returned, since you were the only other older member (other than Zatanna but you were voted leader unanimously. Something you were extremely proud about). That was well and good, until you had been given a mission.

Regardless of how much you did not want to work with Zatanna without the others there to wrangle her, you had to put your personal feelings aside when you had a mission to complete.

You thought you could both be professionals about it and act like mature adults.

You were dead wrong.

If it wasn’t disagreements, it was insubordination. If it wasn’t insubordination, it was blatant arrogance. She questioned your judgment in front of the other members and even had the nerve to argue with you about mission strategies. You were trying to look out for everyone and put yourself in the line of fire since the squad members were better at stealth.

Zatanna seemed to think you were trying to steal the show and insisted that she be partnered with you even though you wanted someone with the younger members to keep them safe.

When you relented and agreed to go stealth, she accused you of ducking out and intentionally trying to put her in danger. The others had to watch as steam practically came out of your ears when you relented once again and decided you’d be with her because you honestly couldn’t argue with her much longer.

As if that wasn’t infuriating enough.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when she refused to work as a team, putting the mission at risk and nearly getting the both of you hurt. She was fighting on her own, not bothering to have your back and going into it alone. Obviously, the two of you were overpowered quickly once they realized that you were pretty much behaving solo.

Luckily, the others pulled through and got you both out of there before anything horrible happened.

You sat in the ship, jaw clenched so tightly that they swore they could hear your teeth cracking, fists nearly white as you tried to control your anger and keep yourself from screaming at her while you were still in the air.

Once the ship landed in the docking bay and Zatanna was the first one to leave without saying another word, you snapped.

“What the hell did you think you were doing today!” You growled out, fisting her collar and stopping her in her tracks.

“What are you talking about?” She feigned innocence and you felt your skin burning. Everything around you faded out and all you could feel was fury. In hindsight, you would have liked to handle this issue in a more refined manner, but you honestly couldn’t care.

So, you didn’t notice the rest of the team, along with the a few members of the Justice League watching you chew Zatanna out.

Whatever would keep you from lighting her on fire was enough.

“I’m talking about putting the mission, not to mention ourselves in jeopardy, all because you can’t stop acting like a spoilt brat!” You hissed.

She rolled her eyes and you and the thought of strangling her briefly crossed your mind before she shoved your hands off her, dusting herself off like your fingerprints were dirt, “You need to stop blaming others for your inadequacy.”

She turned on her heel sharply and walked away. Blood pounded through your ears and your fingers twitched by their sides before you formed a whip of water from the bay and lashed it against her feet.

Zatanna, caught off guard, was thrown across the room before she caught herself with a muttered spell and turned around, glaring at you furiously.

“We’re going to settle things, right here, right now!”

“If you would stop being so insecure, then we could sort out our differences like mature adults!” She screamed back at you and before you could control it, flames erupted from beneath your feet and raced towards her, scorching the ground beneath it.

Each puff of breath you took released sparks. Zatanna immediately got into an offensive stance, levitating one of the weapons crates and chucking at you. You blocked it effortlessly using a wall of earth before throwing an inferno at her.

You kept fighting, flames and splashes of water going into the air every time you collided. The others watched in fear as you both raced towards each other, it looked like neither of you were holding back.

Before you could strike her again, you were being pulled away by Superman and as Zatanna was by Batman, they both pulled you yards apart. Even with his strong, authoritative grip on you, you couldn’t stop thrashing in his arms, throwing gusts of air at her.

“(Y/N). Enough.” Superman spoke in your ear and you calmed down, relaxing in his grip. He let you go after and you winced, feeling your skin bruise where he grabbed you. He gave you an apologetic glance at that.

“You both have to put your differences aside and work as a team or you won’t be allowed to go on any more missions.” Batman told you, voice firm but it didn’t shake you.

“No, Zatanna is going to have to put her issues with me aside and learn that when I have been elected as leader of the squad then you are supposed to put your petty jealousy aside and know your place.” You spat.

“You weren’t right for the position!”

“I did everything right! And if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have been under open fire tonight!”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“When I am the leader of the squadron then I am! And you’re meant to listen and not question my judgement because you’re being blinded by your pathetic jealously!”

“I’m not jealous of you!”

“Oh, please! That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve heard from you and it was all proved today! Admit it! You were immature and fucking stupid because you can’t get over that fact that you dated Dick for what? 3 months?”

“That’s because he’s supposed to be with me!”

“LIKE HELL HE IS!” You roared.

Batman felt a little helpless watching the two of you scream at each other. All this fighting? Over a boy? His son, no less? He had other sons and you were free to have your pick. But at this point, he wasn’t even sure what to say.

“You just can’t seem to accept the fact that he doesn’t love you anymore! Get over it! Because he certainly has!” You shouted, spinning on your heel and stomping away from her, determined to have the last word. Superman sighed in relief. He thought another fight would break out.

“You’re just insecure because you know that if he had the chance, he would come crawling back to me!”

A chill went done your spine and you felt cold fury run through your veins, turning around to glare at her murderously and clenching your hands tightly. You were so angry your feet were rooted to the floor, body seizing up slightly.

The others looked anxiously between the two of you as you glared at each other for a minute before you spoke with the calmest, yet most terrifying voice they’ve ever heard from you.

“Zatanna, you can try your damn hardest to win him back. But I promise you, you’re never going to get what you want.” You told her darkly, before walking away.

As Zatanna glared at your receding figure she decided she was going to prove you wrong.

***

To keep you from fighting with Zatanna again, when Batman came to you with a solo mission you couldn’t agree fast enough. Even though you knew you’d miss Dick’s homecoming, you still wanted to get the hell away from here. Not like you’d be missing anything important, other than Zatanna fawning over him.

You’d get to tell him how much you missed him in private anyway.

As soon as you were out of the cave, you couldn’t help the relief that filled your bones. You had been so on edge the past few days, still furious with her so the distance between the two of you was appreciated.

When Dick got home, he was ecstatic to see you again. It had been nearly 3 weeks since he had last held you and his skin was practically buzzing with excitement when he reached a cave, desperate to hug you, kiss you, touch you.

He got to the mess hall quickly, running all the way there and when he opened the door, he was instantly disappointed. You weren’t there.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked Beast Boy, hoping he would tell him that you were just back at your apartment or that you had gone out for a while and would be back soon but he felt his heart sink when Gar gave him a sympathetic smile.

“She’s on a mission for a week.”

“A mission? Who’s with her?”

“No one. It’s a solo mission.”

Now he was worried. You usually didn’t take solo missions, liking to work in a team, knowing that there would be people who would be watching your back was reassuring. He knew you were more than skilled to handle a solo mission but not being by your side made him nervous and slightly antsy.

He was also upset that you weren’t here. So, he decided to do the most adult thing. Go home and sulk in bed while holding your sweatshirt that smelt like you.

But apparently the world had something against him because when he was about to go through the Zeta tube he was intercepted. By non other than Zatanna.

Now, poor clueless Dick had no idea that you had thrown hands with Zatanna just a day ago and was the reason why you weren’t there to welcome him when he got back. If he had he would’ve sulked at her and whined loudly for her to hear while he dragged his feet.

But, poor clueless Dick had absolutely no idea Zatanna was the reason he was being deprived of your kisses. So, he just smiled brightly at her and asked her if she needed anything.

“As a matter of fact, I found an old spell and I need someone to test it out on!”

“I don’t know how I feel about being your non-scientific experiment, Z.”

“Come on, it’s totally harmless, I promise.”

“I don’t know...”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. But there was just something about this situation that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he missed you like crazy and just wanted to go home and sulk until you came back. Maybe it was because he felt uncomfortable to go somewhere private with his ex-girlfriend without telling you first. Or maybe it was because of the way Zatanna felt the need to guilt him into it.

Nevertheless, he agreed, albeit reluctantly and went to her room. Inside Zatanna had a bunch of ruins written on a paper and some weird poultices beside it.

“Now this isn’t going to work unless you give me your consent.” She informed, bustling about the room and Dick suddenly felt the air was a little stuffy.

“What do you mean by consent? Consent for what?”

“It’s a love spell.” She told him, smiling slyly but he couldn’t quite understand why. His hands got a little clammy at the announcement. What did she mean by love spell? Was she trying to get him to fall in love with her? Why would she be so open about it then? Especially when she knew he was in love with someone else?

“What do you mean?”

“Oh relax, stop being so tense. It’s just a love spell that proves who you truly love.” She said, immediately noticing how stiff his body was. Though she chalked it up to confusion. Dick was simply confused about who he loved, he was clouded by his attraction to you and he felt guilty about being unfaithful. But deep down, he really loved her. And this spell would prove it.

“In the olden ages, people would use it on their wedding to prove that their significant other truly loved them.”

He nodded, mouth falling open with realization. He already knew what the answer would be so why even bother? He assumed it was because Zatanna was curious to whether it actually worked.

“Too bad (Y/N) isn’t here, I mean I know who I love but I’d like to try it out on her. I mean, who takes a mission the day before their boyfriend comes back to town.” He complained, more to himself but Zatanna still heard it.

“Anyway, can I cast it on you?”

“Sure, couldn’t hurt.”

Oh, how he’d come to know just how wrong he was.

***

You raced through the halls, panicked, hearing your heart beat out of your chest as you sprinted to the Med Bay. Even though you were running as quick as possible you still pumped your legs to run faster, needing to get there quickly.

As soon as you saw Zatanna outside the Med Bay, you skidded to a stop in front of her and grabbing her collar, pinning her against the wall. She hit it with a thud and she saw white for a second when her head collided with the hard surface.

It was then you got a good look at her face. Her eyes were red and face wet. Her lips were bitten until they bled. You gritted your teeth, grip tightening around the collar as tears pricked your eyes.

“What the hell did you do!”

She whimpered, eyes getting glossy again before she started crying, incomprehensible words leaving her lips and you snarled before shaking her again, “You don’t get to cry! What the hell did you do to him!”

“It was a love spell!” She cried out, “It was supposed to reveal who he truly loves.”

“AND?!”

“It’s activated by a kiss.” She sniffled, “And I did.”

“Is it done?” Dick asked just as she finished casting the spell. His body was enveloped by a slight glow that was only visible to her and Zatanna’s lips curled when she realized it had worked. Now there was only one thing left to do.

“Yep.” She said, slinking over to his side and he pouted curiously.

“Are you sure? I don’t feel any different. You said it was supposed to reveal who I love. What happened?”

“We’re gonna find that out. Hold still.” She said, smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck to press a kiss to his lips. Dick froze, feeling her lips move against his and his mind went blank for a second before his chest contracted painfully.

He gasped against her mouth, before his legs buckled and he tumbled to the ground. Zatanna’s eyes widened when she saw the way his body twitched, pained gasps leaving his mouth and tears began falling from his eyes.

“Are you okay?!” She panicked, wrapping her arms around his thrashing figure but he couldn’t choke out an answer.

“Someone help! Anyone! Please!”

“A kiss doesn’t put people through cardiac arrest!” You screamed, feeling your chest tighten as you heard it out loud for the first time. Your eyes began burning and your throat contracted, feeling tears build. It was the first time you had admitted it to yourself.

You were scared. Emotions that you could barely process or understand swirled around you in a dark cloud and you were scared that Dick wouldn’t make it out of his critical state. If he was taken away from you because you hadn’t been there to stop it, you would never forgive yourself.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered, sobbing and her body went limp in your fists. The urge to rip her head off her shoulders resurfaced. She didn’t get to be upset, not when this was all her fault.

“I don’t give a shit.” You hissed, “How do we save him?”

“A true love’s kiss should stop all the side effects.” She whispered, looking up at you with wide eyes, “If Dick truly loves you, then when you kiss him, it’ll reverse the spell.”

You needed to get in there.

You released your hold and Zatanna and she slid to the floor pathetically, holding her body as she cried. But even with her heartbroken sobs, you couldn’t feel any sort of remorse to her, glaring at her instead, “You better hope this works. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

And then you rushed in.

When you got to Dick’s side your breath stuttered when you noticed just how many things he was connected to and you felt your body shake. Batman was carefully watching him from his bedside.

You carefully walked to his side, gently brushing your fingers against his cheekbone. He looked like he was in so much pain. He looked so weak. You wanted to help him but a part of you was scared. For the first time in your life, you doubted Dick’s feelings for you.

The time you needed his love and devotion to be true the most, you were doubtful. A million thoughts rushed through your head and for a second you were tempted to just avoid doing this at all. But you knew that you had to at least try.

So, with trembling hands, you held the ventilator fastened to his mouth, taking a deep breath before tugging it off. Batman, already knowing what you were about to do, let you pull it off him before pressing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Tears gathered underneath your lashes when you didn’t feel anything happen.

Just when you were about to pull away, Dick took a deep breath through his nose and panted against your mouth, kissing you more firmly. You couldn’t help the sob that bubbled out of your throat and he swallowed it without any qualms.

Even through bleary vision, you were able to make out his blue eyes and the small smile on his face.

His hands came up to weakly cup for cheeks, gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs, “I missed you.”

You sniffled, letting more tears fall because you knew he’d be here to wipe them away, “I missed you too.”

***

Bonus:

You walked into the mess hall quietly. Dick had just fallen asleep in the Med Bay where he would be kept for a couple days under observation. It was past 1 in the night and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed but you had some unfinished business left to handle.

It was dark and it was hard to make out your surroundings until your eyes adjusted to the darkness. As you walked to the kitchen island, your eyes landed on the sorceress that had her head in her arms and wondered if she was asleep. Batman had said you were free to deal with her anyway you liked and that had been exactly your plan.

“He’s okay now, if you’re curious.” You told her. Her head shot up and she looked at you out of the corner of her eye before bowing it away shamefully. But you caught a glance at her face. She looked like she had been crying for hours, eyes bloodshot and face red and blotchy.

“Thank god.” She croaked out.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m so so sorry, (Y/N).” Zatanna whimpered out before crying again, “You were right. I was jealous. And I did a crazy, wrong thing. And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed, nodding at her apology even though you knew she couldn’t see you. You weren’t sure if you accepted it, and you didn’t have to. For now, it could remain in the air.

“He really doesn’t love me....” She whispered out and you sighed once again, stepping up beside her and setting something on the table.

Zatanna glanced at the bottle of tequila and the two shot glasses you left. You didn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare straight ahead. You opened the bottle, pouring yourself a shot before tilting your head back and downing it, hissing at the burn.

“Obligatory break-up drink.” You mumbled, pouring her a shot and passing the glass to her.

She sniffled, looking at the glass in her hands before gulping it down. You took a deep breath, refilling the glasses. You still didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, just poured a refill when either of you finished and downed it in one gulp. The excitement from today and the tense feeling from sitting beside Zatanna kept you from getting drunk too early.

You two ended up finishing half the bottle, drinking in the dark until she passed out first and you followed soon after.

The others found you the next morning, passed out at the kitchen island, clutching empty shot glasses.

***

Bonus bonus:

Batman sighed, smelling the overwhelming scent of tequila as he came closer. None of them were able to wake either of you up. You were out cold, face scrunched up and head against the table in a position that would no doubt have your neck in a crick.

Zatanna was no better. Her hair was a mess, tequila spilt on her clothes and she was drooling all over the table, snoring unattractively.

“All this over a boy?”

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deadlymodern · 3 years

Photo

i. writer’s block | part 3

“You won’t tell a soul, Matty, will ya?” I whispered to him - that one sorrowful night at the beach - as we clung to each other so tight it seemed our secrets would spill and spoil the water if we dared to let go. “Not even to Roger!”

“But…” He stuttered in confusion. “He doesn’t have to know of you and Mary, only that you are like us….”

“Oh! Say you won’t!” I might have stomped - I’m not sure - for I felt Matthew flinch through our embrace. “Say I’m accepting of the two of you, nothing more!” He only sighed and consented with his head, and I knew, now, that he had kept his word.

‘If she can be ordinary and happy,’ I thought, bitterly, 'well, so can I!’ I was determined to set myself on a path to normality. A path without her, at last.

And, venturing into such an ordinary world, I caught myself hoping Matthew - and Roger - would be just as common and as plain, and as miserable as I was. As I walked to meet the young men halfway, I begged, with each step, for Roger to be displeasing. I begged for him to leave in a hurry, or to laugh and claim he had changed his mind. But he never did.

Instead, the man was nothing but wonderfully pleasant, and quite gallant. He spoke so naturally of his - of our! - nature as though he was most proud of it! I had never heard such a speech… Mere months ago, I was still certain that Maisie and I were the only people in the whole world like that. And, now, this young man talked about his family, about their acceptance, about their support of him and my brother… I felt my throat tight, keeping a weep from bursting.

That was their ordinary.

Despite wanting to tell Roger the truth, - and let him and his loving family aware of my own leaning - I shoved the idea aside and concerned myself in being the most endearing host there ever was. It was the least I could do for I felt terribly guilty and ashamed of my own thoughts just as I did, as a teenage girl, when I was first falling in love.

previous | next | full story | recap

transcription under the cut

MATTHEW: I, uhh Bethany, t-this is Roger Buckley. Roger, this is m-my sister– // Where are your shoes?!

BETHANY: Oh, do forgive! I just meant for a little walk and lost track of time…

MATTHEW: My, I’m sorry, I told you she was a bit rough 'round the edges…

ROGER: Come now! // If it would be alright, I’d love to take my shoes off as well, in a bit!

BETHANY: Ah, we shall be good friends, I can tell! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Roger.

ROGER: The pleasure is all mine, Miss Norman! Matthew has told me much about yourself.

BETHANY: Good, things, I can only hope! And do call me Beth, won’t ya?

ROGER: Oh, I… Are you quite sure I should?

MATTHEW: You’re right. // I believe she’d prefer to be addressed as Betsy.

BETHANY: No, he teases! Please, ‘Beth’ is just fine.

ROGER: Very well. // I… Thank you very much for inviting me. I– I hope that… I hope this queer situation between Matthew and I doesn’t offend you… I don’t mean to–

BETHANY: Oh, no, I’m not one bit offended. I’m delighted!

MATTHEW: I said you needn’t worry! She’s accepting as well.

BETHANY: As well…?

ROGER: Ah, yes, my… // My family is aware! Of my ways, I mean. And of Matthew and I, even if they haven’t met him yet.

BETHANY: Really?!

ROGER: Really. All of them: my mother, and sister, and–

BETHANY: And are they supportive?!

ROGER: Very much, indeed! // We all take it as something natural, of course. Matthew and I, we… Well, we were apart for a while, after the scandal, isn’t it right? Still are, a bit. My family insisted I was extremely careful until the gossip died off… Yet, they’d still love to meet him. // And you, as well, Miss No– Beth! Sorry . Once I mentioned Matthew had an accepting sister, they were most content!

MATTHEW: Isn’t it brilliant, Beth?! // His whole family!

BETHANY: 'Tis about the most marvellous thing I’ve ever heard… You are a very lucky chap, Roger, you are. Having such a family…

ROGER: I suppose I am, aren’t I? // Yet, so is Matthew! He says you’re brought up quite traditionally, no? I’m surprised, then, that you are so open minded and, obviously, very relieved!

BETHANY: Of course. As long as he is happy, so am I! Now, here is an utterly important question: Are you hungry?

#long post tw #wtwc #wtwc; summer #i. writer's block #gen1 #bethany norman #matthew norman #roger buckley #norman legacy #ts4 story #sims 4 victorian

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alby-rei · 3 years

Text

Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side.

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement.

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love.

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed.

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made.

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,�� I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did.

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode.

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation.

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY VINCENT #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #vincent x mc #ikemen vampire vincent #Birthday fic #best boy #also FIGHT ME THEO #side note: I don't hate Theo #I just think we'd butt heads all the time xD #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #alby one-shots

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frenchbread-writes · 4 years

Text

Unexpected Reunion| {Enji Todoroki/Endeavor}

@unfaithfulmemories: Hi, I see that you are taking requests. Could I ask for an Endeavor x male reader Pro-hero that started dating Enji during their UA years but then Enji ghosted the reader and after a few years the reader decides to go on a dating app and reconnects with Enji without knowing it's him and it ends with a passionate night? Maybe a time skip where they are married and the reader adopts the Todoroki kids under his name

I MOVED ACCOUNTS

I’m so happy that you asked me to write about endeavor since he’s literally one of my favs

The story’s ending might be a bit eh but I’m proud of the overall story so I hope you still like it😊😊

Pairing: Endeavor x Male!Reader

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of abuse, implied NSFW

Requests: Closed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Hawks suggested that he should consider meeting someone after being single for an admittedly long amount of time, Enji promptly shut the smaller man down. Between trying to maintain his duties as the #1 Hero and fixing the rift he caused within his family, he had no time to even think of trying to enter the dating scene.

The #2 Hero still tried to convince him until He said how Endeavor was a quote: “Lonely old man who needed to get some.”

After that, the larger man snapped, glaring at the winged hero. Flames growing larger in anger as he growled out how “his love life was none of Hawks’ business” and then stomped out of the room.

But now there he was The Endeavor, sitting in his bedroom after his shift, on his phone staring at the dating app sign up screen, blushing. Cursing himself for acting so childish he finally started filling out his information into the required boxes.

It started off easy enough just the usual information:

Name: Enji Todoroki

Username: Endeavor#1

Gender, email, number, and password.

Though it was the last question that made him pause.

Sexual preference

It should be obvious, he liked women, but even having said that his finger still hovered over the screen. It didn’t feel right. He thought of his previous relationships, which was admittedly a small amount to remember, and.. Nothing.

He had felt no attraction to the people he had been with previously, even thinking of a woman’s body did nothing for him if anything, he felt the opposite of how he thought he should. But there was that one time in UA where he experimented, he dated another man it was only for a little while, about 2 months. He couldn’t remember his name but he could clearly remember those (e/c) eyes and how they made him feel. He felt heat prickle the top of his ears and spread down to the back of his neck.

He swallowed thickly and idled there for a few more moments staring at the screen before he took a deep breath and pressed the male option and pressed sign up before he could change his mind.

Now all that’s left is setting up his profile.

Description, he thought for a moment before typing:

“Looking for a romantic relationship with someone who can be independent and not a pushover.”

Now for photos.. how do you take decent photos?

He went through other profiles to see what kind of photos he should take.

The most common ones were selfies and.. shirtless mirror pictures. It’s ridiculous and he should delete the damn app and curse Hawks for giving him the idea in the first place.

But here he was, standing in his bathroom in front of the large mirror with his hero costume on flexing for the camera, the next few photos were of him with his flames turned off and without a shirt, and the last pictures were of him in a suit that hugged his body in all of the right places and showed off his muscles through the stretched fabric around his arms, chest, and thighs.

He stared at the photos he took and deleted the worst ones, being left with about 4 photos.

“Good enough.” He muttered as he uploaded them to his profile

now all that's left is to explore potential candidates worthy of being in a relationship with him.

Over the next few days not one person on the app piqued his interest in the slightest, and the ones who were brave enough to message him first were disregarded, they weren’t of any interest or not worthy of being spared even a second of his time.

He sighed as he shut off his phone and flopped onto his bed, dissatisfied and disappointed by his lack of success. He drifted off to sleep hoping to have more success.

He did not have more success. The men he met up with were either easily intimidated and had no backbone or were able to stand their ground and look him in the eye but immediately made their sleazy intentions clear, which is not what he was looking for and it clearly states in his description what the type of relationship he is interested in.

It wasn’t until a few more days passed he got a notification from the app as he walked out of his agency saying he was matched with another person, he grumbled and prepared to swipe it away but the name caught his eye, it seemed familiar but where had he seen it before?

He didn’t get a chance to think about it when he received a message.

“OMG Enji it’s actually you!!”

Such casual use of his first name threw him off, and another ping alerted a new message.

“It’s me (Y/N) we dated in back in high school!!”

That’s why the name sounded so familiar, it was you the male he dated in high school.

He stared at his phone for a moment, all he had to do was respond with something kind.

“Yes I remember you being a thorn in my side”

‘Why am I like this?’ he thought

“Is that why you were an asshole and radio silent on me?”

He blushed, oh right, he was so obsessed with becoming number one that he cut all ties with anyone he deemed useless at helping him achieve his place at the top.

Thinking about it, that wasn’t one of his best choices.

“I apologize for my actions in the past I hope you can forgive my childish behavior, you have every right to be angry with me”

“I was kidding you dummy but if you really want to make it up to me you could look up from your phone screen.”

His brow arched in confusion at the message, look up why would he- oh.

He didn’t know what to do, you were standing there smirking, the sight making heat spread across his cheeks, you were stunning.

You had changed a lot since he had seen you at UA, your muscles are larger and more defined, scars littered your arms ranging from small light scars to large dark ones, gained from years of working with machines and different kinds of equipment no doubt.

You raised a brow “So are you just gonna stand there checking me out or are you going to take me out on a date?”

He jolted and cleared his throat, “I apologize, you surprised me, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

You sighed “You’re still as stiff as you were back in high school, we need to do something about that.”

What did you mean by that? He wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, as you fished a pen out of your pocket, grabbed his hand and scribbled something on the palm of his hand.

“Here’s my number call me later.” You winked before walking off.

He was stunned, you were just a normal guy who asked him to call you, so why was his heart pounding in his chest, palms sweaty, and an extreme heat covering his face that had nothing to do with his quirk?

After he composed himself Enji took his phone out and added your contact, now he had to wait until later that day to contact you.

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

After the encounter, the few hours that remained in his shift that day seemed to drag on forever. He was antsy to end the day, only a few more minutes, all he had to do was finish his reports then he could change and go home. That was easier said than done but he managed.

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

When he made it to his room he immediately whipped out his phone fumbling with it before opening a conversation with you.

“Hello, it’s Enji”

Not even a minute later you replied

“Hey! You ready to take me out?”

You were so direct and straight to the point, it was amazing.

“Yes, where shall I meet you?”

You sent him the location and time.

“8:30 Don’t be late ;)”

It was 6:00 so he had time to prepare, but as he sat there staring at his messages he couldn’t help a smile from creeping onto his face.

“So who were you talking to that’s making you smile at your phone?” The soft voice of his daughter made him jolt, smile immediately slipping from his features.

“N-nothing!” He yelled

She chuckled and prepared to leave the room, but before she could leave the doorway, Enji called out for her.

He blushed “W-wait! Actually, I-I need your.. help with something”

She turned to see a flushed Endeavor staring at his feet.

“I need your help looking for something to wear for a d-date”

She was taken aback, him going on a date, it was.. unexpected to say the least, but she couldn’t help the warm smile from tugging at her lips. He’s finally doing something positive and trying to move past the negativity.

Fuyumi sighed “Ok I’ll help”

He looked up to her grateful and gave a silent thanks, now he had to get ready to meet you near the train station and start the date.

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

Which is where he found himself wearing one of his casual button-down shirts and form-fitting jeans. ‘I hope this is good enough’ he thought, glancing at his appearance as he waited for you to show up.

It was now around 30 minutes after you were supposed to be there, Enji now tapping his foot in impatience, nervousness now replaced with annoyance. Grumbling “How dare he make me wait this long” under his breath.

He whipped his phone out about to send you a message when he heard. “Hey! Sorry, I’m late!” Your voice sounding sheepish. He huffed “You better have a good explanation as for why you kept me waiting” he stared at you expectantly.

You chuckled and said, “Well I simply lost track of time”

“Now let’s get going we’re wasting daylight” taking his wrist you started dragging him off to your destination.

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

The two of you walked for about 10 minutes before you stopped. “This place is amazing, I come here in the morning to get my coffee”

You gestured to a small cafe before walking in. “A lot of heroes usually come by here, it’s very lowkey and they give heroes a discount!”

he glanced around the interior taking note of the small number of people present.

After the two of you ordered you found a booth to sit and began to talk, well, you did most of the talking. You didn’t chat about anything in particular just catching up about what happened after high school. This went on for about an hour after that Enji slowly started to open up, talking more and eventually, he began smiling and laughing with you.

But sadly the date had to end eventually, that left you with Enji walking you home. You couldn’t help but notice from the corner of your eye that Enji was glancing at your hand more than usual, so you took initiative and took his hand in yours. In response, he stiffened up his face flushing, and grip a bit too tight you couldn’t help but tease him.

You looked up at him, winked, and brought his hand up to your lips and left a gentle peck on the back of his hand. Enji’s face burned as the two of you walked the rest of your way to your apartment, hands still Intertwined.

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

Walking up to your apartment you and Enji look at each other.

You sigh “So I guess this is my stop”

Enji offered a small nod in response and awkwardly opened his arms for a hug.

Chuckling you accepted his embrace, soaking up his body heat hug lasting longer than usual. After about a minute you pull away from the hug your arms still around his torso, look at Enji and smile, a real smile and not one of your cocky ones “This was the best date I’ve had in a while, thanks”

Enji blushed “I had a great time as well and I hope we can do this again soon”

But as he said that he couldn’t stop staring at your lips you were so close and they looked so enticing, so he took a deep breath, steeled his nerves and took a chance and leaned in connecting your lips with a gentle kiss.

You weren’t expecting Enji to kiss you, so you froze for just a moment before kissing back, his lips were a bit chapped and it was obvious that he hasn’t done this in a while but to you it was great.

The kiss was innocent enough but as the kiss kept going it began to escalate. You felt something soft and warm press against your bottom lip you parted your lips and welcomed his tongue that entered your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, pressing up against his solid chest he responded by grabbing your waist and doing the same.

He had you pressed against the door panting when you heard it, the laughter you looked around him to see your nosey neighbor's kid was messing around at the park that was direct across from your apartment. You didn’t want your neighbor budding into your love life because her kid saw you kissing a stranger so you pulled away from Enji and pulled out your key to unlock the door.

The two of you barely closed the door before Enji was attacking your lips again. Not wasting a moment the two of you stumbled to your bedroom, a mix of heated moans, clumsy footsteps, and groping hands, the two of you discarding articles of clothing until the two of you were in just underwear.

Enji picked you up and pressed you down onto the mattress kissing down your jaw down to your neck and chest leaving red marks a he went.

He was prepared to be the dominant one until you somehow instantly flipped the two of you around making it where you were on top smirking at him and holding a condom in between your teeth.

You may be the one on his receiving end but Enji knew that you were far from being submissive for him, as you tore open the wrapper with your teeth and looked at him like he was your prey.

He was in for a long night.

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

Waking up the next morning the first thing Enji did was to sit up and stretch until he felt the familiar pop of his joints, he looked around his surroundings and noticed that you weren’t in the room with him. Your clothes were missing from the floor and a pair of clothes were neatly folded on the foot of the bed for him.

Quietly he got dressed and went to open the door to exit the room, immediately he was hit by the smell of eggs and bacon.

Walking into the kitchen he blushed as he caught sight of you standing in front of the stove, wearing nothing but a T-shirt tucked into short shorts. They did nothing to hide all of the marks that covered your neck and thighs left behind from the night before.

He couldn’t help but admire your beauty and the way your hips swayed as you quietly hummed a tune under your breath.

“It’s rude to stare you know,” you say over your shoulder

He jumped “S-sorry I didn’t mean to”

You smiled at him and playfully rolled your eyes “It’s fine and stop being so stiff around me you’ve seen me naked and I don’t let just anyone do that ya know”

You turn off the stove and spin around with two plates of bacon and eggs in your hands “now sit, I made breakfast”

Enji sat at the spot at your small dining table that you prepared for him and began eating.

You rubbed the back of your neck “I know it’s not the best but it’s the only thing I know how to make without needing adult supervision”

“It tastes perfectly fine, thank you for making it” Enji defended

You opened your mouth to deny it but his sincere expression made the words dry up and all you could do was let out a sigh and smile back at him.

Enji wanted to see that smile every day.

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

After breakfast was finished and everything was put in the sink you and Enji sat on your couch, drank tea, and talked. Mostly just chatting until the conversation about being in a relationship came up.

“(Y/N) there is something I need to talk to you about before any of this continues” Enji looked directly into your eyes.

The two of you held eye contact until he looked down and sighed.

He began telling you of his past, of his goal the reason he left you before, the stuff he’s done to his son and the emotional and physical abuse he’s put the entirety of his family through. Not once did you interrupt him, you let him speak and reveal everything he had done.

After he was finished speaking he couldn’t face you, you must’ve been disgusted with him not that he would blame you. He expected you to reject him, tell him to leave not wanting anything to do with a monster like him.

But that’s not what happened, instead, you reached forwards and cupped his face in your hands and placed a delicate kiss to his lips.

You pulled away “Thank you for telling me, what you did was terrible and you deserve any punishment that you receive.” You paused “But I can see you are trying to change and become a better person.”

You looked him directly in the eyes “And that’s all that matters is that you’re trying and as long as you’re trying I will stand by your side.”

After your speech, Enji only noticed the tears falling from his eyes when you started wiping them away, he latched his arms around your torso pressing his face into your chest, shaking, and sobbing out a chorus of “thank you’s.”

You simply smiled and held him as he cried, you didn’t care that he was staining your shirt with his tears instead, you rubbed circles on his back, placed soft kisses on the crown of his head, and whispered that everything was gonna be okay.

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

Ever since that day you and Enji have been on several more dates taking it slow and getting to know each other.

It was about a year later when he invited you over to his home, that was odd considering he hasn't invited you over before because he hasn’t told his kids about you, his daughter Fuyumi being the exception.

Walking up to Enji’s door, your heart was beating a mile a minute it was the first time you were going to meet his children and you were nervous as hell.

Taking a deep breath you lifted a hand and knocked firmly on the door. Not even a minute later the door opened with Enji greeting you with a quick kiss, a thank you for coming before he pulled you inside.

“So I have informed them of someone I wanted them to meet but I haven't told them who exactly they’re meeting” he whispered

As soon as you walked into the living room 3 pairs of eyes were on you, it was an intense staring contest between the four of you.

Enji cleared his throat and gestured to the smaller man “So everyone this is (Y/N) my boyfriend, I hope all of you can get along.”

You took that as your cue to speak “Hey guys nice to finally meet you!” You gave them one of your signature smiles and slap Enji’s back “This loser can’t stop talking about you.”

Enji glared at you “H-hey!” His kids snorted

You ignored him opting to sit next to the boy with half red and half white hair “You must be Shouto” you pinch his cheek lightly “You’re just as adorable as the time I saw you at the sports festival!” He simply blushed and let out a small “thank you.”

Next, you looked to the taller boy with white hair and raised your hand for a high-five “You’re Natsuo!” The boy gave your hand a gentle slap “I love your shirt by the way” you gestured to his shirt that said “FRONT” on it. He gave you a smile “Thanks, finally someone who appreciates my sense of fashion, unlike somebody.” He glanced over to Fuyumi.

You gave her a gentle smile and held out your hand for her to shake “It’s very nice to meet you Fuyumi, I hope I’ve made a good impression on you so far?”

She chucked “Yes you have (Y/N)”

After that you had pleasant conversations with the siblings, getting along with them even Shouto seemed to perk up when you spoke to him.

Enji watched as you effortlessly seemed to make them warm up to you, fitting in so easily it went much better than he thought it would.

He couldn’t help but stare at the empty space on your finger on your left hand and feel the shape of the small velvet box that was at the bottom of his pocket.

Soon his children will have another father, the Todoroki family will have a new member and everyone can take a step forward.

He’ll have to wait until the time is right but for now, he is content with watching his family bond with his boyfriend and future husband.

#endeavor #bnha enji #enji todoroki #endeavor x reader #endeavor x male reader #bnha x male reader #x male reader #male reader #enji todoroki x male reader #endeavor x male #frenchbread's writing

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sery-chan-13 · 3 years

Note

Hi :) can I request where Niragi is a genie?

Ooh, interesting idea!

[Make A Wish]

Niragi Suguru × Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, past scars

"Yeah, I'm here. I know mom. Yep. I know. Yeah. I love you too. Bye," you said, ending the call. You sighed, opening the door to the old house.

Your grandmother had recently passed, and you were in charge of taking care of all the belongings. You had a copy of her will, and of course, while going through her things would make you sad, it was better than seeing her suffer for another day.

You walked in, taking off your shoes, and laying them besides the door. It was quiet, and the blinds were drawn shut. You smiled sadly, as you couldn't smell something cooking in the kitchen as you usually did. The warm light that usually filled the house was dull, and not full of as much joy. You sighed, and kept walking through.

The will had stated that the house itself would go to you, along with whatever belongings you wanted to keep. Your mother would get everything else. You were so happy to get the house you were basically raised in, and honestly there was only a few items you really really wanted.

It was the end of the day, and you had packed all the items your mother wanted. All that was left was some of your grandmother's old kimonos you loved, most of her jewelry, a set of teacups, and the old lamp she always told you not to touch. In the will, however, she said that since she was gone, you could. It had always been fascinating to you. A family heirloom, apparently. You were excited to finally hold it after so many years.

Walking up the long staircase up to the second floor, your hands shook. Down the hallway, into the dark part of the house where the rope to pull the attic stairs were. You grabbed ahold of it, pulling it down. Slowly, the ladder pulled down from the door on the ceiling with a creak. Dust floated down with it, and you sneezed. "Ugh... fuck dust," you grumbled, beginning to climb up the stairs. You reached the top, pulling yourself in. Your mother had cleaned out all the boxes the week prior, leaving you the things you wanted. Even then, she had only taken the boxes, not cleaned up. You understood why, however, and just ignored it. There was three boxes left, the small, ornate lamp sitting atop the middle box. You smiled, giddily running to it. You knew nothing special would happen, it was just exciting to finally being able to touch it. Years of pent up curiosity had lead up to this moment. You reached out and picked it up. The cold metal made you shiver. You ran your finger along the side, tracing the jagged pattern that adorned the lamp. You smiled, hugging it close to your body. "You're kind of dusty, aren't you? Let's go clean you up," you said, talking to the lamp. Sure, it might have seemed crazy, but it made you feel a bit better.

You softly moved the cleaning rag over the metal, smiling at it. Sure, it might have been the least valuable thing in the house, but the emotional value was worth more to you. You laughed at the thought you had of rubbing the lamp, seeing if anything happened. It's what you always thought when you were younger. Why not? You weren't expecting it, but it would be fun. You placed the rag down, and held the lamp, rubbing it softly. You closed your eyes, with a smile.

"Remember (Y/N), when my time comes, which is unfortunately soon, you'll get that lamp. And then all your wildest dreams will come true. And by then, I won't be here, so you have to promise to say hello... and goodbye...to a very dear friend. Promise me?" Your grandmother had said, holding her cold hands in yours. You nodded, tears filling your eyes. "Yes, I promise. I promise. And your time isn't soon grandma. I still haven't taken you to Paris, just like we said. You can't leave yet," you whimpered, tears falling. She smiled, pressing a hand to your face. "It's ok... it's ok..."

You opened your eyes, shaking your head, sniffling and drying the tears. "Uh... so... should I come back later or..?" You heard someone ask. Your eyes widened and you slowly looked up. There was a man floating above you. You gasped, backing into the wall behind you. "I'm just tired... and sad, and anxious, this is a hallucination, no way this is real. No. Nope. Goodnight," you said out loud to yourself. You slapped the side of your face harshly to see if you would snap out of it. "Ouch, that looks like it hurt," he stated sarcastically, standing on the floor. "And I can assure you, I am most definitely real sweetheart." You felt lightheaded, and took short shaky breaths. "I... I th-think I'm gonna pass out," you said, holding a hand to your head. "Yeah, you go ahead and do that," he said. You vision swirled, black and white filling your eyesight, until you lost consciousness.

When you woke up, you were on the couch downstairs. You held your head, sitting up with a groan. "So it was a dream," you muttered. Everything was fine, until you looked over at a chair in the corner. Glowing yellow eyes looked back at you, and a shadow darker than the rest of the darkness slithered slowly over to you. Your breathing quickened, and you screamed. The lights turned on, and the shadow figure was revealed to be exactly that, a shadow figure. "Do I have to deal with you annoying ass evil bitches every time some mortal rele- uses the lamp?" You heard someone groan. You turned to see the man from last time. The shadow immediately dissipated, leaving behind purple embers, and you jumped up from the couch. "S-so... what? You- you? Shadow? What the fuck?" You questioned, digging your hands into your scalp. "Yeah, I'm real. So was that thing. No, you're not just extremely stressed. Now, I do have to ask... where is (G/N)? Haven't seen her in a while..." he asked, answering your other questions before. You looked down frowning. He knew what that face meant. "Oh... sorry," he apologized.

''So... what are you exactly?" You asked. You two were currently in your kitchen, talking about random things. "Well, depends where your from, but most know my kind as genies," he said with a smirk. You hated the fact that it made you feel butterflies. He was rather attractive now that you actually got to look at him. "Genies?" You questioned. "Genies. All powerful beings that can grant wishes to mortals yada yada yada. Yeah, that," he said. You could tell he was rather proud of this. It made you laugh a bit. "Oh so like... three wishes?" You said. He nodded, "Exactly that, actually. Three wishes, the sky's the limit besides these rules: I can't bring anybody back from the dead, and I personally don't make people fall in love. It becomes obsessive, and I would rather not deal with that again."

"Oh... and then what happens after the three wishes are completed?" You asked. "I go back to my lamp. Basically a prison. But yeah. You see these?" He said, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Under where two black bracelet cuffs with intricate patterns and designs carved in. Your eyes lit up, and you traced over the patterns. "Yeah, these keep me connected. Forever. So, let me guess your wishes. Money, power, fame?" He said, rubbing his hands together. You raised an eyebrow at his words, tilting your head to the side. "That's boring and selfish. Also not what I want. So... oh! Actually... um... I just wish my mom did not have to worry about all the money, legal stuff, or anything having to do with my grandmother's funeral. Could you do that?" You asked, looking up at him.

This was new. No one had ever asked him for anything that didn't benefit themselves. Most people asked for money, or being famous. Some had other selfish desires, so this was new to him. Of course he could do it, but what we're your motives behind it? And with that being said, didn't you know he could trick you and make your wish come true in a different way? You probably did, you seemed intelligent, so he assumed you knew.

"Yeah, I can do that."

For the past few days, you hadn't asked for anything else. Well, more like you hadn't wished for anything else. You had asked his name, which you learned to be Niragi. You had smiled when he told you, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit flustered when you did. Although, he reminded himself not to do anything rash such as develop feelings, because after your three wishes were done, he went back to living in the lamp until the next person came along.

"Niragi, um.. why is there always those shadow things trying to hurt me?" You questioned as he floated besides you. "Because you're cursed," he said, patting the top of your head. You tilted your head to side, confused by his words. "What do you mean cursed?" You asked. "Cursed, ملعون, 詛咒, nasumpa, καταραμένος, maledictus eris,maldita. You want me to go on?" He stated. You stared in awe, grabbing his arm. "You know more than one language?!" You shouted. He smirked down at you, nodding his head. "I've been around for millenia sweetheart. Many people from many different places," he said. He thought it was the stupidest thing to get excited over. You were acting like he just told you you were going to Disney or something. "Wait, back on track... why am I cursed?" You asked. "It's easier to show you. Hold on," he said, picking you up of the floor. You yelped in surprise, holding onto him tightly. You screwed your eyes shut, not wanting to look.

"If you never open your eyes, you'll be scared your whole life. Come on," Niragi said. You shook your head nuzzling your face further into his neck. You were most definitely not in your grandmother's house anymore. You didn't even know if you were in Japan at this point. "Look or I'll drop you. You need to have fun (Y/N)," he said. You thought he was kidding. "Ok, have fun," were the only words he said, before letting you go. You screamed, feeling the wind rush past you, your hair flying upwards.

"Niragi!!" You screamed, calling out for him. He appeared besides you, laughing. "Isn't this fun?'' He asked, yelling over the sound of the wind rushing past. "N-no! Please don't let me fall!" You yelled, tears filling your eyes. You weren't usually quick to cry, but it had been a stressful two weeks, and your concept of mortality had been flipped with your grandmother dying. You knew how fragile humans were now. And it terrified you that you could die at any moment. 'Shit, she's crying. Fuck.' He thought, before grabbing you into his arms once more. "Sorry," he apologized. You clung onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your face went back to being nuzzled into his neck. " 'S ok... just don't let me fall," you whimpered. He had forgotten that humans could be oh so fragile. And you crying made him feel bad. He had never felt bad for a human before. It was new.... You as an experience had been so new. Everything you did was a breath of fresh air for him. It was nice...

"And we're here,'' he said, setting you down on the floor. Your legs were wobbly, and you held onto him for support. "It's ok, here, get on the floor, we're right in front of why you're cursed," he said, helping you sit on your knees. You finally looked around, seeing it was a graveyard. There was a gravestone, old and crumbling, right in front of you. You jumped back, and Niragi's arms wrapped around you. "Where are we?" You asked, looking at the gravestone. You couldn't even read the words on it from how old it was. "A cemetery somewhere that I won't tell you the name of," he said. You pouted, and he snickered, patting the top of your head. You crawled over to him.

"Ok, but why?"

"To explain why you're cursed."

"But why did we have to come here?"

"Because you need to leave that damn house."

"So it's trauma time?"

"It's trauma time."

"Can I sit here?"

"Go ahead, we'll be here a while."

The exchange would have been funny to any passer-by, but as you two were alone, no one would be able to recount this. You sat besides him, picking at the dead grass. It seemed everything was dead in the cemetery. "Alright. Comfy?" He questioned. You nodded, and urged him to go one with the explanation.

"So, a long long long long ass time ago, this man made the lamp that imprisoned me. He had found me out and about, and made a bet. A bet that if he could make something for me to stay in, I would be trapped in it until he needed me. So, me being me, I said yes. I told him he got three tries. The first two weren't successful, you know as most things aren't. The third however... the third trapped me. I was chained into the lamp, only being called on when they needed something. But, I was smart. The three tries? Yeah, that's where you get your three wishes then I leave. Others heard about what he did, capturing a genie, and making it bend to his will, and asked him to make them lamps to catch genies. Everyone treated us like pets. It was horrible. Constantly under the command of someone else who doesn't give a shit about anything that happens to you. With this, other genies were understandably upset. So, they put a curse on him, and his bloodline. They would never be free from the torture of demons and spirits who were bitter about what happened, or if they wanted to take the genie for themselves. He's the reason you're cursed. He's your many greats back grandfather."

You gasped softly, "So... how... how did they treat you?" Your hands softly grabbed onto his arms, raising the sleeves. He pulled on his arm, trying to pull it back. You looked up at him, giving him a look that calmed him. It made him feel comfortable and safe. He'd never felt that with anyone. He sighed, letting you raise his sleeves. Burns and scars adorned his skin, and you lightly traced over them. Your hands were cold in contrast to the heat his body was giving. They didn't hurt anymore, but he still jerked back when you touched them. You were so gentle, and loving. He didn't know anyone could be so soft, so sweet. He didn't know humans could show kindness towards him. But here you were, breaking everything he had thought before.

He was broken from his thoughts when he felt your lips touch to his arm. "What... what are you doing?" He asked. "My grandmother used to do this when I got hurt.... I know I can't make up for the mistakes my ancestors made, or heal the scars they caused, but... maybe I can make you feel better?" You said softly, one of your hands reaching out, and softly tucking his hair back behind his ear. "Shouldn't I be doing this to you?" He questioned with a laugh. "I want to take care of you. Men can be vulnerable, and be taken care of. They have feelings. Even if you are an immortal being. You still have feelings," you responded. "Let's take you back to your home," he said, pulling his sleeve back down. "Our home. You're there with me. It's ours."

After you two had returned, you went to go take a shower. You told him to change or do what he wanted really, so he did. He unbuttoned his shirt, scowling at the scars previous people had left behind. How he hated it. He hated that any mark left behind was a cautionary tale. What had they taught him? Not to speak? He shrugged his shirt off, his frown deepening as he saw more and more of what he hated. He stared into the mirror, losing himself in his thoughts.

"Niragi- woah, sorrysorrysorry!" You apologized, covering your eyes with your hand. He shook his head, snapping himself out of it. "It's fine. I'm still dressed, just no shirt. Lost myself for a second," he said. You took your hand off your eyes, frowning at how he looked at himself in the mirror. You could see hatred, and anger when his eyes met the mirror. "Why is there are mirror at the foot of your bed anyways?" He scoffed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You joined him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Because," you answered. He groaned laying back. You waited for his reaction.

"You have a mirror on your ceiling too?! What the fuck is this shit?!"

You laughed, laying back with him. You turned on your side to face him. "Thought it was cool. And some of my past hook up and exes liked them for... reasons," you said. "Because they liked looking at you two fucking in a mirror?" He said. You blushed, looking away. "Oh my gods... just admit you have a mirror kink and move on," he groaned. Your blush got heavier, and you pushed on his arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the shadows again. This time, it didn't seem to want to back down from the room. "N-niragi... shadow," you whispered pointing at it. He sat up quickly, putting an arm in front of you defensively. "Can you not?" He said. The shadow only slithered closer, and you hid behind Niragi. This spirit was most definitely bolder than the rest, getting closer every second. "Niragi... I can wish it away, can't I?" You whispered. You were scared, and he could tell. "You can, but don't waste a wish on something I can han-" "I wish my family would stop being cursed for the actions of our ancestors," you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Why we're you so selfless? The world seemed to be treating you horribly recently, and all you did was use your wishes for others. Would this one benefit you as well? Of course. But any other person would have wished for only them to stop being cursed. "Your wish is my command sweetheart."

You lay besides him, frowning. "What's wrong?" He asked. You looked up at him, confused. "You're sad. What's up?" He questioned, looking down at you. "I won't get to see you after the third wish... I don't want you to leave," you explained. "Sweetheart, trust me, you won't even notice I'm gone. You'll go on with your life and forget about me," he said, running a hand hesitantly through your hair. Those words pained him to say. He didn't want you to forget about him. He didn't want to leave, something else that was new. He always couldn't wait to leave, but this time, he was dreading it. "No... I can't go back to normal after you..." you whispered, cuddling into him. "You have to," he stated. You shook your head. "Can't I wish you to stay? I can do that right? It's not against the rules? Would that be selfish to make you stay with me?" You rambled, hugging him tightly. You didn't want to let go, as if he'd disappear any minute. "Why do you want me to stay? I'm not important to you (Y/N)," he whispered. "Because you are important to me. I love... I love you," you admitted. He looked down at you, watching as you hid your face. "So... can I wish you to stay with me?" You asked. He thought about it. Really, you were the only person who cared about him, and the only person he cared about. You were so different from everyone he'd met, and it was an attractive trait. He couldn't lie, he loved you too, and he was almost tired of hiding his feelings. It was the quickest anyone has fallen in love, probably. It had been 2 weeks. "... Yeah. Yeah, you can do that," he said. "I wish you didn't have to disappear into the lamp after the third wish. That you be free from being a genie, and stay with me...'' you whispered, holding onto him. You just held him, fearing what would happen if the wish didn't work.

A minute later, he was still there. And you cheered happily. "You're here! It worked!" You shouted. He laughed, surprised at this as well. "Thank you... thank you (Y/N)," he said, pressing his forehead against your own. Once again, you had made a wish that didn't benefit you. Or so he thought. Your last and final wish had been a tad bit selfish, making him stay with you. But it's what he wanted. It's what you wanted. For him to stay with you. Wishes can't be taken back, and neither could he. Because your last wish sealed both of you together forever. Maybe he couldn't make people fall in love, but you most certainly could.

Oh wow, that was kind of long-

Sorry that took so long to finish, and I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes!

#alice in borderland #niragi #×reader #fluff #these requests are so interesting and amazing and i love themmmm #you have no idea how creative yall are #they make me so happy lol #like... i love mythology and these requests make my brain buzz

23 notes · View notes

jaminjims · 4 years

Text

bts 8th member {imagine}

a/n: ok so this was the child of my 1-5am mind that was running off of chips ahoy cookies and diet root beer, and honestly?? kinda proud of myself lmao. i felt like i was kinda lacking with my boys au update this week and i wanted to feed you guys with more content so, here you go! (also sorry if it’s a little rushed, i just started writing and didn’t stop) i lob ya’ll

pairing: bts x reader (it’s sorta implied as a m!reader bc bts is a boy group and i refer to you as he maybe twice throughout, but it can be read as any gender! although i do make you refer to the older boys as hyung. you can also read it as ot7 but you don’t have to, there are fluffy moments between everyone)

genre: pretty angsty but also pretty fluffy

warnings: panic attack, loneliness, anxiety medication, brief mention of insomnia, extreme dieting, sleep medication

words: 4.2k

~**~

you trained in bighit for two years before you were put into a group and you could easily say that those years were probably the hardest of your life

in the beginning, you were ecstatic to be accepted because being an idol was your dream, even if it was a small company. you had lost count how many times you dreamed about debuting and just making people (who you couldn’t wait to call your fans) happy

over time, you wouldn't say you lost your drive to continue, but your bright outlook on the future dimmed and the pressure of everything had begun to build up and it had gotten really hard

you had to train everyday: singing lessons, dancing lessons, exercising. and on top of that? you also had to study for school and continue to get good grades

after all, that was your parents only rule if you wanted to become an idol

your parents were also happy for you, but if they also became worried. because being away from home and the pressure of school and training without the fact they could look after you, it worried them to no end

they called you everyday and asked how you were doing, and you would tell them the truth about how you missed them so much that it almost hurt and if you were eating a lot (if your training even aloud it) and that you were staying hydrated and healthy

and sometimes, you were worried about yourself too

there have been multiple times that you thought you were going to break, how you thought you couldn’t continue to live like this because you weren't aloud to eat much and the classes and school work and just everything began to pile up

but this was your dream, and no one said it was going to be easy

that's the thought that kept you believing in the future, kept you believing in yourself. all of your hard work was going to pay off and you knew it was going to be worth it

right?

the times when you sang so much your throat went raw, the times when you danced so much to the point of exhaustion, and then collapsed but didn’t eat enough afterward. those were the hardest

your parents came close to pulling you out of training more times than you could keep track of

but you persisted. you had already made it this far, what's the point of dropping out now?

the first year of training was exhausting, but you were so proud of yourself because this was the hardest task you had ever done and you were getting through it!

the second year though, was probably worse than the first. that was the year when you really started to miss your family, and with trainee's constantly coming in and out of the dorms, you really had no one to connect with

there were nights where you would cry yourself to sleep because of everything

it didn't help when your trainers put you in remedial classes, because you were pretty good at dancing, but not so much at singing

the extra classes got in the way of your school work, and more often than not, you found yourself missing at least two classes a week because of them

but it was ok, you told yourself. if you had made it this far and gave up, then what would the last year of training be?

but there are only so many times you could tell yourself that before the words started to lose their meaning and you had come so close to dropping out because a person could only have so many anxiety attacks and meltdowns before they just broke completely

but it was like something looked down on you and suddenly: the moment was there. you were put into a group and immediately cried on the spot then and there, even when the others in the dorms could see

you had called your parents right after and were so happy, you couldn’t even get the words out and they could only half understand you

you knew it was going to be worth it and even though you almost aloud yourself to give up, you would be willing to do it all again

that's when you vowed to yourself: you were never going to give this up for anything

and even though you didn’t get the grades your parents really expected of you, it was ok

you were here, you made it

meeting the rest of the bts members for the first time was something that you would always remember, and even though you would come to laugh at the first meeting with them in the future, it was hella embarrassing

“hello, my name is y/n. please treat me kindly and i look forward to working with you.”

well, at least that's what you tried to say

instead it came out more like this: “hello. y/n. nice working kindly with you, please treat me forwardly.”

yeah, you die every time you think about it. the look on their faces as you flush in embarrassment would become the faces of your paralysis demons for months afterward because god could you seriously be any more socially awkward?

the answer to that question was: of course you could!

even though you weren't the shyest (that would probably go to the youngest, jungkook) you were probably the one to mess up the most and then think about it in the most inopportune of times

like for example, it was one of your first dance practices together and you were thinking so hard about not messing up anything, you ran into the door on the way out of the practice room after it was over

yeah, this time most of the members couldn’t hold back their laughs, and even though you knew it wasn't to make fun of you, you still flushed the color of crimson because christ what the hell is wrong with your brain function?

your face was probably two shades redder permanently because of the amount of embarrassing moments you had still have

that was probably the reason you become closer to jungkook first because (excluding the fact that the both of you were close in age, you only one year older) you were both the shyest

also, videogames who? ya’ll know her very well

most of you and jungkook’s bonding moments came from your mutual love of videogames and the relationship was THRIVING

“hey wanna play minecraft?” “kook it's two am.” “well then why are you still awake?” “to see how long it would take you to ask me to play minecraft. i already have the server open.” you both would then probably get blown up by creepers and you would yell before one of the others came scolded you both for staying up way to late and making noise

and once you bonded with jungkook, it was only natural that the rest of you bonded too (sharing a room does that to people)

when you were practicing the i need u choreo, for some reason your timing was off and you knew that but you just didn’t know where it went wrong and that one mistake was driving you crazy

dancing was the thing you were supposed to be good at and that fact that you kept messing up weighed hard on you and made you lose confidence

but it was hoseok who had found you hours after practice had ended, laying down with your arms across your face because you were just so frustrated with yourself that you felt like crying and at this point hoseok had known you long enough that you weren’t the type to ask for help even if you needed it

“y/n, you ok?”

“hyung, i-” you choked up and you got even angrier at yourself because are you really crying over this?

hoseok rushed to your side and helped you sit up, but you didn't take your hands off your face

he instead took your hands in his gently and swayed them back and forth, “yah~ it’s going to be alright.” he gave you a the hobi smile and you couldn’t help but lighten up

he pulled you up and together the both of you practiced until jin forced you to come home and sleep because “they had already missed dinner, god damnit.”

you nailed the choreo almost every time after that

or when you were recording vocals for spring day and you kept messing up and your voice kept cracking and the other guys had already gone to their lunch break while you were still sitting in the studio, practicing your lines

the other seven sat in the practice room eating and got worried that you were going to miss lunch altogether so they nominated jimin to go collect you because they knew that you weren't confident in your voice even though they told you almost everyday that it was amazing

jimin walked in on you singing your part in the song and smiled at how smooth your voice sounded but then frowned when you suddenly stopped and cursed because “why can’t i sing? what the hell y/n.”

you had yet to see jimin enter the recording studio but you defineitly felt when he wrapped his hands around your torso in a comforting gesture

you relaxed in his hold and sighed out as he whispered in your ear, “your voice is perfect and it fits you y/n-ah. it’s going to be ok.”

you teared up and turned around in his hold and properly hugged him. “i love you hyung.”

and you really did, you loved all of them

and you pride yourself on being the one that helps every one and makes sure they are doing alright, mentally and physically

you would get scolded by your hyung's and occasionally by the maknae that you should look after yourself better and that it wasn’t your job to always look after everyone, even more so if you are younger

like when you stay up late to wait up for yoongi to comeback from his studio even into the early mornings, and when he doesn’t you bring food and go to him instead because “i’m here for you hyung. and it's been awhile since I've seen you.” “it’s been four hours, y/n” “yeah, four hours to long.”

but he would eat the food you bring him anyway because he secretly likes your visits and wouldn’t trade them for anything

he always asks you if you’re ok though, “you getting enough sleep?” “why are you up so late?”

you always answer honestly, “i’ve been staying up really late to get things done when i was a trainee, so i’m used to it. it kinda just happens now.”

he frowns but can’t really fault you because he does the same thing sometimes. but still, he doesn’t stan sleep depraviety

or when namjoon gets stressed before interviews (it doesn't happen as much recently but it did when they were younger) especially ones where he had to speak english

you would always give him massages and reassure him that everything will be fine and that he was the best leader he could've asked for

the way joon smiles with his dimples gets you melting every time and you can’t stop yourself from poking him and calling him cute just to tease him, even though he’s older

he always gets this blush on his face and swats at your hands, but he never does lose his smile

you try your best to learn english because you want to take some of his stress away and help him in any way you can

and it’s because you all try to help and build up each other in any way you can, is why you all work so well and just flow together

like how you and tae just casually switch clothes sometimes because “y/n has the best fasion sense in bts” and you because you just like the way he smells (which, for the love of god, you will never admit to him, or anybody, outloud)

“hey y/n have you seen my purple hoodie?” then he would walk out of his room to see you covered in his hoodie eating ramen and smiles “never mind, i’ll just wear your white one” and then it’ll be your turn to smile

or when you assist jin in the kitchen because you actually really love cooking too and you two end up goofing off

“hyung the pasta is gonna burn!” “aish, then stop distracting me with your childish antics!” “oh did you hear something? must be the wind.” and both of your laughter would echo out, making the other members smile and sometimes laugh along with you

you’re also a regular on eatjin and army just love seeing the interactions between you two

but as much as you all get along, there are still many fights that happen because no relationship is perfect

it gets really stressful when you see members fight with each other because you have never been the one for conflict and would choose to avoid it when you could. you would always apologize first because you had a weak heart and hated when anyone was mad or upset at you

but sometimes the stress and pressure get to much and there are moments where they can't help but blow up at each other

“damn it! why can’t you get this move right!” someone would say, after doing the dance for the fourth time

“i’m learning it just like you are! calm down!”

it would sometimes stop there and the two occupants would apologize and they would continue to work, helping each other when needed. other times it would escalate and you would sit and watch because what could you do?

it would usually be one of the older ones to calm everyone down but practice would be cut short and there would be this tension in the air that felt suffocating and it comes to a point where you or someone else would end up speaking up and force the two to talk but they would become stronger and more understanding after the fight, because that's who they were and how they worked

but those were only small fights and you have only initiated them enough times to count on one hand, but the big fights are the ones who leave you feeling drained and powerless because you were never one show big acts of emotion so when you did you felt tired afterward

a big fight that you were apart of that really impacted your relationship with he wrest of the members happened all the way back in 2017

you were more jumpy the past few months and the members knew you didn't get barely any sleep

they also knew that you had been under fire from the media and haters because of a false rumor, and haters had been constantly pointing out your flaws and every little thing they could find wrong with you

you had also lost a lot of weight and that's what really hurt them, they felt like they were slowly losing you and they had tried to bring it up with you a thousand times before, but you would just brush them off and tell that you were ok when they could clearly see that you weren’t

it was when you fainted during a costume change in a concert that they drew the line

you had woken up later back in the dorm with about a million messages on your phone from news sites and family (and of course the other members to check on you to see if you were awake yet)

“y/n suddenly disappears from concert” “does y/n really care about army?”

those where only a few titles that he saw on articles and it only added fuel to the fire for the false rumors and hate

you had sat on your bed that you presumed the medics dropped you off at and based on the time, it had been about an hour and a half and the concert should be wrapping up soon

and you cried.

the rumors, the hate, the other members treating you like you would break any moment. you were letting people down and oh my god, you actually were breaking and couldn't stop it

it was already hard thinking about letting the fans down because they were your everything and you would go to any length to make them happy

but also letting your members down? your parents?

that was excruciating

because you had found seven other boys that you had grown so close to that you could count on but what were you if they couldn’t count on you?

when they came back after the concert all worn out and tired, their first thought was still about you and if you were ok

the maknae line almost broke down in tears at the sight of your sleeping form and how it was very much apparent that you had cried. so much that your eyes were red and puffy and you had a deep frown on your face even in sleep

the hyung’s left to talk when the maknae’s got into your bed with you nd held you because they were legitimately scared that they wouldn’t see you again when you collapsed (jimin on your left, jungkook on your right, and taehyung after jimin)

hobi was the first to speak when they closed your bedroom door. “we need to force him to do something.”

namjoon sighed, “that might make it worse, hyung.”

“well the medic said, just by looking at y/n, that he was malnourished and sleep deprived! i-i don’t know what to do!” his voice cracked and he went to sit on the couch, seokjin sitting down next to him to try to provide any comfort he could

there was a silence that followed the group after the outburst and finally yoongi whispered out. “i’m so scared.”

it was tired and broken and they all felt the same way he did

jin and hoseok fell asleep on the couch together while namjoon and yoongi retired to their own bedrooms, to tired from the events of the day

everyone had woken up before you did and the somber mood from yesterday still permeated the air

it was the most you slept in two months.

when you woke up, you probably felt worse than before

your face was swollen, your head was pounding, you were starving, and just all around miserable

the members somewhat knew what you were going through. they knew that you felt like you had let the fans down and they were very conscious of the hate you were getting right now

when you walked into the kitchen at eleven (all activities halted for the day. another thing that was your fault.) the rest of the boys were sitting around the table, talking about the best way to help you

you had simply walked in and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, trying to avoid the others because you knew the conversation that was coming and you weren’t looking forward to it

jin saw you first and got up from his chair and gently held your wrist to prevent you from leaving

“come here, you need to eat y/n-ah.” he said softly. he then pulled you over to the table, and you let him

everyone went quiet and you just simply put your head down on the table because what could you say? that you were fine? because it was very obvious you weren’t

when jin came back with a plate of food, he gently massaged your neck until you sat up and taehyung sitting on your other side held your hand

jin feed you himself when you made no move to and they were happy to see you eat more than you usually did, but not enough to fully sustain you

when he saw you wouldn’t eat anymore, jin sighed and pushed the food away. he went back to massaging your neck as you put your head back down on the table

namjoon spoke up from across you, “how are you feeling?” he spoke softly

“mm head hurts.” your voice was raspy and even softer

“we need to talk to you.” yoongi then said and this was the moment you were dreading the most

they tried to get you to talk about how you were feeling mentally and tried to be there for you but when namjoon brought up doctors and medication is when you broke

you even surprised yourself when you started yelling (this was probably the first time you really did at them)

“i’m already messed up enough as it is! i don’t need more flaws that will just bring everyone down! is that what you really think? that i’m that messed up?”

they tried so hard to keep calm but you were slowly driving yourself insane and what you were saying was also just so hurtful that they couldn’t help but get heated back

jimin was quick to catch you when you started swaying on your feet because your head was still pounding and it was getting hard to breathe and you couldn’t focus on anything, the others voices blurring together around you

you had to lean back against him and you heard him say something but you couldn’t make out what it was because you couldn’t breathe and your lungs were heaving because you needed air

the voices around you became softer and there were hands trying to sooth you but nothing was working

it wasn’t until there was a soft whisper that you heard in your ear from someone that told you to “breathe for me y/n. please breathe for me baby.”

you then took a big breath and then another and another and the others began to breathe again too once they realized your panic attack was over

you couldn't help the sobs that escaped you and it was just so heart broken and scared that others teared up with you

hoseok hugged you from the front as jimin was still supporting you from the back and you clung to him. “i’m so scared” and “i’m sorry” were the only two phrases you could seem to get out at the moment

“it’s not your fault. it never will be your fault.” and they would feel guilty because they knew you just needed help and they couldn’t fault you for getting upset because the media could be so harsh

it got even worse when you would later admit that you just didn’t want to bring them down because of course you would think like that. them before you, always

so they stayed by your side every waking second and became even more clingy if possible because dammit, it was ok to let yourself be takin care for once and a while and this time they were going to make you take care of yourself before you took care of them

when you were diagnosed with anxiety and sleep medication, they were with you every step of the way and made sure that you were taking them properly because they knew you still were against the idea of taking medication. it had the chance of getting out, and the media didn’t look kindly upon idols who had to resort to such

jungkook would be the one, more often than not, to make sure you take them, and on bad nights the only thing that would get you to comply is when he would say “if you take them it will help me sleep better.”

and it always worked because he knew you would do anything to make sure they were happy

the road to recovery was hard and there were of course ups and downs but at the end of the day, you had them and you couldn't imagine what your life would be like if you didn’t

the fights, the laughter, the crying, you would go through it all again if it meant you would get to stay with them

life as an idol wasn’t easy, but with them, it was just that much easier and you couldn’t ask for a better family

yeah, they were your family

and when you stood up on that stage, tearing up to see all yours fans chanting your names, you knew this was worth it

because you had made it, you built yourselves from the ground up and had loyal fans that would do almost anything for you and that support was worth more than anything

so no longer was your dream to just become an idol and have fans. no, it was so much bigger than that

you evolved and your dream along with you

you truly loved your fans and more than that, the family and community you had helped create along with the rest of these amazing boys that you were proud to call your everything

so standing up on that stage, you cried tears of joy because in this moment, there was no place you would rather be

and afterward you all would cuddle, because who wouldn’t love that, right?

[end]

end note: this was seriously too long and i enjoyed writing this wayyy to much. like i seriously made myself cry?? the part with the panic attack?? i swear i almost ugly sobbed omfg. also, would anyone be interested in seeing other parts to this? like i would absolutely love to take requests for this and make it a mini series if ya’ll are interested in something like that. i just love you guys to much lmao

also sorry if there was any mistakes, apparently i like writing at ass o'clock in the morning where my one braincell can barely function so there are probably many of them, but i was just so excited to get this out and so i didn’t read over it jsfjkgb

~**~ masterlist

taglist: @boba-tea1206

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 14: Fever]

A/N: I’ve written a lot of chapters for Tumblr, but this one was by far the hardest. Thank you for reading. 💜

Chapter summary: Queen enjoys an American tradition, Y/N struggles to be optimistic, John offers distractions, Roger makes questionable decisions (what else is new).

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, accidental intense flirting, inconvenient erections, drugs, overdoses, near-death experiences, medical emergencies, hospital stuff, pregnancy, babies, miscarriage, drama, sexual references, do I even need to say angst...? Y’all already know.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark @culturefiendtrashqueen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you!

It’s November 12th, 1977, and you’re six weeks pregnant.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother!” Your mom is positively giddy, beaming ceaselessly, patting the back of Roger’s hand at least once every three minutes. I was right about this delightful English boy and my future gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says. Your parents either never saw any headlines, or—a possibility that seems increasingly conceivable—didn’t believe them.

“I know it’s early to announce,” you add nervously. “But we figured...you know, since we’re here now...and who knows when we’ll be back in Boston...”

“Oh, I’m so happy you told me!” your mother peals like a wind chime. “Here, have some more sweet potatoes, and some salmon too, they’re so good for the baby...have you thought about names yet?”

“Roger Junior,” Roger jokes.

“Freddie Junior,” Freddie offers with a flamboyant flourish of his hand; his fingernails are jet black with glinting flecks of silver.

“A few,” you tell your mother, rolling your eyes at Freddie. “But there’s still plenty of time to figure that out.” In truth, this whole having a baby thing still feels rather nebulous and untrustworthy, like it’s a dream you might wake up from, like it’s a desert mirage that will evaporate as soon as you stumble too close, parched and ravenous and aching for it. Roger slips his arm around your waist, and you don’t exactly dislike that; but it feels a little like a mirage too.

“We’re so happy,” he says, with a gentle wistfulness that is striking on him. Roger is happy, as happy as you’ve ever seen him. He drinks only in moderation. He does his physical therapy. He’s taken up meditation. He fucking meditates. He wants to get clean for the baby, for you, for this second chance at a future together. And you don’t entirely trust this—because everyone lies and everyone disappoints and everyone carries around mortal shadows in the marrow of their bones—but you are beginning to let it make you happy too.

“You’re next, Fred,” Brian says. “You’re the only one left. Come on, it’s your turn. Cough up an infant.”

Freddie cackles. “All my children have whiskers and tails and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your mother shoves a glass baking pan of sweet potato casserole, topped with a layer of gluey burned marshmallows, towards you. “Eat!” she commands.

You warily spoon yourself some, grimacing; you’re more or less constantly nauseous. Then you stare down at the heap of lumpy orange root vegetables that—to you, at least—contains a choking quantity of cinnamon. The sweet potato casserole stares menacingly back. John leans over and scoops himself a bite off your plate.

“Mmmmm!” he exclaims, to your mother’s delight. Then, more quietly to you: “Not to worry. I’ll help.”

“Everything is delicious, as always,” Brian tells your parents, ever well-mannered. “It’s always such a delight when work brings us to Boston. This was so kind of you!”

Your mom and dad wanted to treat Queen to the band’s first-ever American Thanksgiving dinner, even if actual Thanksgiving was still two weeks away; the table features a monstrous turkey with brown crispy skin, stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade cranberry sauce, green beans almondine, ham, Atlantic salmon, buttered rolls, pumpkin pie, and of course the loathsome sweet potato casserole. You endeavor to taste at least one bite of everything, sipping sparkling apple cider cautiously, biting back waves of nausea that surface at random like breaching whales. The tablecloth is speckled with autumn leaves and inappropriately jolly cartoon turkeys. Your parents are glowing, proud, thrilled...although they’re visibly channeling effort into not being offended by the fact that Brian won’t try the turkey.

“It’s our pleasure, of course,” your father deflects as he puffs on a cigar. He’s mixed a drink for all of the non-pregnant attendees: Apple Cranberry Moscow Mules for everyone except John, who requested his usual Manhattan. “And you’ve timed it perfectly. There’s no better time to be in New England than the fall.”

“Oh, the foliage is just stunning, and the skies are so clear, you can see all the constellations!” Brian cranes his neck and points out the dining room window. “Look, there’s the winged horse Pegasus, and Cassiopeia, and Perseus...”

“The scenery is gorgeous! Creatively rousing!” Roger agrees.

“Oh, planning a Boston-inspired sequel, are we?” John quips. “I’m In Love With My Lobster Boat?”

“I’m In Love With My Revolutionary War Memorabilia?” Freddie suggests.

“Get a grip on my extremely unreliable and difficult to load musket...” John sings.

Freddie points his fork at him and grins. “Yours wouldn’t be so difficult, Deaky dear.”

“How long did those old muskets take to load?” Bri asks.

“About two minutes,” your father pipes cheerfully.

Freddie snorts. “Sounds about right.”

John bears the laughter with a good-natured, smug sort of smirk. I’m not bothered because I know I’ve got nothing to worry about, that look says. You wiggle your eyebrows at him. He winks back.

Roger groans as he stretches his hands up towards the ceiling. “Am I really expected to play after all this?! Jesus christ. I’ve gained a stone in the past hour. Alright, one more slice of pie, then we have to get going...”

Queen has reserved your parents front-row seats at the show, as well as a limo to shuttle them there and back. While your mother fusses over whether you’ve eaten enough and what appropriate rock concert attire is—“leather and feather boas and riding crops, darling” Freddie informs her—your father circles the table snapping photographs, first with your Canon and then with his own Polaroid. You and Roger pose together, lean into each other, plant giggling kisses on each other’s cheeks. And you marvel at how a photo is a snapshot, a split second, nothing less and nothing more; that it’s instantly and mechanically captured, impersonal even, cheap to print and easy to burn. As your mother begins gathering up plates and glasses, you stand to help her.

“No no no,” Roger says, wiping the crumbs from his chin with an orange napkin. “Not allowed, Boston babe. Sit down, I’ll do it, I’ll help clean up.”

“I want to,” you insist. “I feel better when I’m moving around.” Less likely to vomit into anyone’s sweet potato casserole.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” You smile down at him fleetingly, ruffle his short bleached hair, then disappear into the kitchen.

Your mother is scrubbing plates in the bubble-filled sink, her hands turning pink under the hot water, humming Rhiannon in a bright merry voice. She’s wearing a sparkling crimson dress that reminds you of blood. Your stomach lists like a sailboat.

“I’ll wash if you want to dry,” you offer.

“I raised such a kind girl. My beautiful daughter, a future mama. Mrs. Roger Meddows Taylor.” She twirls a lock of your hair affectionately, then steps aside so you can reach into the sink. “That John Deacon is a bit strange, isn’t he?”

You resist the reflex to bristle, to snap at her; it’s not her intention to be cruel. It never is. “No, not really. He’s wonderful, he’s a genius. He’s my best friend, actually.”

“Oh alright, dear. I’m sure he’s lovely enough. He’s just so terribly quiet. He fades away next to the others. And certainly next to Roger.” She sighs, infatuated, dazzled.

You hear Roger’s voice echo in your skull: Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.

Maybe he was right about that.

You’re trying to be happy, really you are; you’re trying to fall in love with this future Roger has planned for you. But you can’t shake the gnawing sensation that—somewhere along the way—your life stopped being written by you. You’re anxious all the time; you bite your lips until they bleed and wring your ringless hands and rarely sleep. You feel restless and ineffectual and nervy, like there’s some inescapable horror crouched behind every door you open, every page you turn. You feel the opposite of free.

Your mother notes casually, drying a china plate patterned with pink roses and edged with gold: “It must get difficult sometimes, having to share him with the world.”

You gaze into the nest of pearlescent bubbles that pop around your wrists like interrupted dreams, like broken promises. “You have no idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 21st, 1977, and you’re twelve weeks pregnant.

Blood trickles down your palm, the underside of your wrist, your velveteen-soft forearm. You hold the wad of gauze against the Scottish roadie’s pouring nose. What’s this one’s name? Nick? Nate? Niall? You’ve lost track. Whoever he is, he sustained an accidental elbow to the face as the crew was unloading the band’s luggage from the tour bus and is now slumped on the marble floor of the New Orleans Ritz-Carlton, splattered with drops of blood like the freckles sprayed across his pale cheeks. Giant red bows and Christmas trees trimmed with twinkling white lights rim the lobby.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” You lift the gauze away; the bleeding has slowed considerably. You gingerly probe the bridge of his nose as the roadie moans in pain.

“You trying to kill me, lady?” he jests.

You wrap an ice pack in fresh gauze and press it against his swollen face. “It’s not broken. Keep the ice on it, apply pressure, come get me if the bleeding doesn’t stop in ten minutes. Okay? You might have black eyes but you’re gonna be fine. You’ll look extra badass for the babes at the club.”

“Okay.” The roadie smiles gratefully. “Thanks, Florence Nightingale.”

You smirk up at Roger. “Did you have to teach them that?”

“You’ve cultivated quite the reputation, love.” He grins, takes a drag off his cigarette, glances around the lobby through his opaque prescription sunglasses. And you’re struck by how pertinent he looks here, in grand rooms with chandeliers and towering ceilings, in famed cities littered across the globe. He belongs in the spotlight. He belongs to the world. He doesn’t belong to just me, and he never will.

You reach for your duffel bag, but Roger yanks it away and slings it over his own shoulder.

“Will you please stop trying to lift heavy things?!” he pleads.

“I’m pregnant, I don’t have brittle bone disease.”

“Brittle bone disease!” Freddie cries, horrified. “Is that an actual ailment?!”

John snickers. “Yes, and it’s sexually transmitted, so watch where you stick your bone.”

“Oh, ha ha ha, you are hilarious!” Freddie says, rolling his large dark eyes. “Worry about your own performance, Mr. Misfire. Bri, you’ll join us for a drink tonight, won’t you?”

“Well...” Brian hesitates, and you suspect you know why. He’s been looking forward to this stop for months, Queen’s last in the States during the News Of The World tour; after two days in New Orleans the band will fly back to London, spend the holidays there, resume the tour with shows throughout Europe beginning in April. In just a few rotations of the Earth, Brian will be back at home with Chrissie and the twins. But tonight he has plans to see the girl he calls Peaches.

“You undependable poodle,” Freddie scolds. Then, saccharinely, batting his eyelashes: “But you’ll surely come along, won’t you Nurse Nightingale?”

“Fred...I hate to disappoint, but...”

“This is unacceptable!” he exclaims. “I am distraught! Not even an orgy with spicy Cajun men will lift my spirits!”

“I doubt that,” you reply, smiling. “I’m exhausted, Freddie. This making a kid business isn’t easy.”

“Oh, but you’re not too exhausted to cart around luggage like a fucking alpaca!” Roger massages your shoulders, enfolds the slight bump of your belly with his hands, lands a series of featherlight kisses down your neck. He’s still clean, he’s still effervescent, he’s continuously devoted in a way that is unusual for him, tender and sensitive, simultaneously ecstatic for the future and nostalgic for the past. “Want me to stay?”

“For fuck’s sake!” Freddie laments.

“That’s alright. John said I can help him wrap Christmas presents for Veronica and the kids. I’m learning how to be all maternal and domestic, isn’t that exciting?”

“I’d say you’re fairly effortlessly maternal,” Roger says, rather proudly. “Want me to bring you back anything?”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll send a roadie for chili cheese fries or something.”

“You can send them for lobster and filet mignon. Whatever you want.” He reaches into the pocket of his fitted black jeans and pulls out a small ring box.

“Roger...?”

He opens it, grinning, and taps an antique gold ring with a ruby stone into his calloused palm. “I found this at a shop in Miami. You remember the first time we were ever there? March of 1975. Hotel room with a view that looked out onto the beach, taking photos on the balcony with the ocean crashing behind you, feeding the seagulls chips until the bitches started attacking us.”

“I never forget.” And that’s true; there have been times you wish you could, but you don’t.

Roger takes your left hand and slips the ring onto your wedding finger. Then he lifts your knuckles to his lips, bites them gently, leaves faint burning indents in the flesh.

“I love it,” you breathe, turning your hand back and forth, watching the lights from the Christmas trees glimmer off the ruby. It feels real in a way that sharing a future with Roger hasn’t for a long time.

“Now don’t get all emotional over it. It doesn’t mean anything, you know.” Roger winks and lands a parting kiss on your forehead. Then he passes your duffel bag to a roadie, who vanishes with it into an elevator. “Deaks, you’ll take care of my girl?”

“I always do,” John replies.

“Have fun,” you tell Roger, beaming up at him. “But not too much fun.” This could work. This could really work.

Freddie crosses himself like one of Veronica’s Catholic great aunts. “Depravity? Us? Never in a million years, darling.” Then he hooks an arm around Roger and leads him towards the glass hotel doors. They’re engulfed by a crowd of Queen’s roadies, laughing and shoving each other playfully: Ratty Hince, Paul Prenter, Chris Taylor (dubbed Crystal by the band), Brian Spencer, John Harris, others whose names you haven’t committed to memory yet.

“You ready, Emily Post?” John asks, heading towards the nearest elevator, and you follow him.

In his hotel room is a messy stack of gifts accumulated over the past month and a half from tour stops all over the United States: tiny model Liberty Bells from Philadelphia, Yankees baseball caps from New York City, a slot machine that spits out gumballs from Las Vegas, red socks embroidered with the logo of—what else?—the Boston Red Sox, NASA astronaut action figures from Houston, teddy bears wearing Cubs t-shirts from Chicago, plushies from the Miami aquarium: a hammerhead shark for Laszlo, a dolphin for Anna, and an octopus for the newest Deacon due in mid-February. You and John sit on the floor together in a flurry of tubes of Christmas-themed wrapping paper, stick-on bows, name labels, greeting cards, and pens. John flips through the tv channels until he finds It’s A Wonderful Life. You send a roadie to get dinner from a New Orleans-based fast food chain called Popeyes, and you take leisurely breaks between gift wrapping to chomp on crispy chicken wings and biscuits and mini apple pies and to guzzle down towering cups of Southern-style sweet tea.

“Octopuses are gender-neutral, right?” John asks, floundering as he tries to wrap all eight tentacles individually.

“Totally.” You’ve been brainstorming how best to package the slot machine for fifteen minutes. You take another contemplative bite of a flaky biscuit. “These kids are gonna be super confused when it comes time to pick a favorite team for the World Series.”

“Well obviously they’ll have to be Boston fans or I’ll disown them.”

You sigh contently. “This is just too adorable. I want to wake up early on Christmas morning and open presents with some hyperactive children. Please adopt me into your family.”

“Done. You’re in.”

You laugh. “I don’t think Slavic Jesus thinks highly of polygamy.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who said anything about a second wife? You can be the live-in nanny but also the filthy secret mistress. Take it or leave it. Final offer.”

“Alright, Mr. Misfire. But you’ll have to fuck me for at least slightly longer than two minutes.”

Oh god, I should not have said that.

John stares at you. You stare back. And something flies between you, something like a pop of static electricity or a firing neuron, something hot and lightning-quick. There’s blood flushing his cheeks, but it’s not quite embarrassment; you know because the same heat is swirling in yours.

Stop, you order yourself.

But it’s too late, now you’re thinking about it, what it would be like: what he would feel like, taste like. Not like wildfire, reckless and consuming, disaster nipping at its heels. Something different, something constant and dependable and soulful, something that feels like home anywhere in the world.

It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about me. You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about me.

John grabs a sheet of crinkling wrapping paper patterned with chortling Santa Claus faces and drags it over his lap to conceal the sizable bulge growing there in his white pants. You pretend—unconvincingly, you’re sure—not to notice.

Finally, he chuckles uneasily. “However you want it.”

“I’m so sorry. That was wildly inappropriate. I’m hormonal and stupid.”

“I kind of like you hormonal and stupid.”

“Well don’t get used to it, this is a temporary condition.”

“You really can come over,” John says. “On Christmas morning. You and Roger can come over if you want to. The kids love you both. And honestly neither of them are old enough to remember this year anyway, so no pressure if you fuck up Christmas by being accidentally slutty or whatever.”

The smile ripples through the muscles of your face, uncoiling all the tension there. He really does make everything better. “Okay. But you have to promise to behave too.”

He shrugs coyly, lights a cigarette, watches you as he exhales smoke. “You’ve always said I have game.”

There are voices out in the hallway, uproarious laughter, the pounding of irregular footsteps, thumps against the walls. You can hear Freddie giggling: “Rog, darling, come on, get it together...!”

John furrows his brow at you. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that look. What John means is: Is he okay?

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you reply. He’s been fine all tour.

And then, more desperately: He HAS to be fine. Not just for me anymore.

“Rog?!” Freddie shrieks, and now the voices are louder, more numerous. There’s one massive thud. Someone screams for help.

You and John scramble to your feet. You snatch your kit off the dresser and bolt out into the hallway. Roger is sprawled on the floor in the center of a reeling crowd, unconscious, gasping for air, his skin a starved bluish. Freddie and Crystal are hovering over him, shouting and horrified.

“Oh my god,” John says.

“Call an ambulance,” you tell him, and John sprints back into his hotel room.

You shove Freddie and Crystal aside and kneel beside Roger, jostle him awake, pry open his eyes and shine your flashlight into them. His pupils are pinpricks. His breathing is shallow and uneven. You close your fingers around his right wrist; his skin is drenched with sweat. Roger’s pulse is erratic, fading.

“Roger, can you hear me?”

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs. Then he blacks out again.

“What did he take?” you pitch at Freddie.

Freddie and Crystal exchange a glance, hesitating.

“If you don’t tell me what it was he’s going to die, what did he take?!”

“He wasn’t in the same room as us,” Freddie says, his voice quaking. “We don’t know—”

“So you left him alone,” you seethe. “Of course you fucking did.”

Roger’s hand shoots up and seizes your shirt, twisting the fabric in his gnarled fingers. “Speedball,” he rasps. His vivid blue eyes—like bruises, like veins, like cold rain—are huge and bloodshot and frantic. He’s begging for his life. He’s begging you to save him. “The guy said it was a speedball.”

You know exactly what a speedball is; it’s your job to know things like that, to know all the chemical combinations that errant rock stars love destroying themselves with. “A speedball has heroin in it, Roger!”

“I can’t breathe,” he sighs dispassionately, as if it doesn’t bother him at all. His eyes are glassy now, unseeing.

“Don’t you fucking die on me!” You rake through your kit for the vial of Naloxone that you thought you’d never need. That’s not for bands like Queen, you remember thinking when the record company insisted you carry it. That’s for people like The Rolling Stones or Black Sabbath or maybe even Fleetwood Mac on a bad day, but not Queen. Not my boys. Not my Roger.

Oh, but has he ever really been mine?

You pull a syringe out of your kit, throw off the cap, and hold the vial of Naloxone upside down. You stab the needle through the rubber stopper and measure out 1cc—an entire syringe’s worth—of the drug that can reverse opioid overdoes. CAN, not will. It doesn’t always work.

Freddie is sobbing as Crystal drapes an arm over his shoulder and turns him away. So they don’t have to watch. So they don’t have to see him die.

You don’t have the luxury of not watching.

John is back. “What can I do?” he asks.

“Shake him. Keep him awake. Hit him if you have to.”

John kneels, cups Roger’s face in his hands, smacks his cheek each time Roger begins to nod off. Roger gazes up at him numbly, breathing in haphazard wheezes. “Stay with me, Rog. That’s it. Stay with me, you’re gonna be fine...”

You pinch a tiny roll of fat in Roger’s upper arm and jab the needle in. You push down the plunger and 1cc of Naloxone vanishes from the syringe barrel as it surges into Roger’s disordered bloodstream. You toss the syringe away and rub his arm as crimson blood beads from the injection wound.

“Come on, Roger,” you beg him. “Come on, Roger, please...”

You fill another syringe and inject it an inch below the first puncture mark. Roger’s eyes—those eyes that you’ve been trying to claw your way out of since you first saw them across a hospital room in the June of 1974—flutter closed. His sweated rib cage stills.

“Roger?!” John roars, shaking him. “Roger, Rog, wake up!”

“Roger!” you scream.

He sucks down a sudden breath—deep, clear, life-giving—and his intense blue eyes fly open.

“Oh thank god!” you cry, clutching your chest. “John, help me, help me get him up...”

Together with Fred and Crystal you drag Roger to his feet, force him to walk, parade him up and down the hallway until the paramedics arrive and ferry him away—still dazed and ghastly pale, still grasping for you and muttering things you don’t understand—and then your adrenaline rush evaporates and you crumble to the floor, one shaking hand covering your face, the other on the small swell of your belly.

I’m so sorry, little guy, little lady. You deserve better than us.

“I have to go after him,” you tell John when he reaches for you, trying to lift you off the floor. “I have to make sure he’s okay, the Naloxone, it could wear off before the heroin does, and it...it...it can stop an opioid overdose but speedballs have coke in them too and he could still have effects from that...”

“Okay, no problem, we can go, come on, we’ll get a cab and we’ll be right behind them.”

And you remember what Roger once told you as the planet rolled into 1975, under streetlights casting islands of luminance in an ocean of cold darkness: But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?

But Roger was wrong.

My life does feel like a cage. It feels exactly like a cage.

You sputter weakly: “He’s not, he isn’t, he can’t...”

“What?” John presses. “Slow down. Breathe. Tell me.”

“He’s never going to change, John,” you whisper. The weight of the ruby ring is heavy on your trembling left hand. “He’s never going to change.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s February 15th, 1978, and you’re nineteen weeks pregnant.

The kitchen phone rings, and you answer. The date for your twenty-week ultrasound is circled on the calendar in red ink. “Hello?”

“Do you need to get out of the house?” John asks. “Because I really need to get out of the house.”

You do, incidentally. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and Roger did everything right: a bouquet of pink roses and carnations waiting on the kitchen table when you woke up, a new Ferrari parked in the driveway, a candlelit dinner at Mon Plaisir. It was a little too right, actually, like Roger was trying to coax you into serenity, like he was proving how illogical it would be to consider ever being unhappy with him, like he was making up for something; and that’s how things feel a lot of the time, now that you think of it. Roger is fine, mostly. He’s home, usually. He’s clean until he isn’t, and then afterwards he’s so dazzlingly radiant and kind that you can’t stand the thought of not being there to help if he needs you, can’t remember your frustration or your anger half as much as your fear of losing him. And it’s incredible how good you’ve gotten at pushing the memory of that News Of The World headline out of your mind, like it was something from a soap opera or a cheap romance novel, like it was just a slice of scandalous fiction that happened to somebody else. That’s the way the body works too, isn’t it? Wounds close over, livers regenerate, old cells slough away and reveal fresh tissue beneath with no recollection of the pain that comes tangled up with all the other eventualities of existence. Times like Valentine’s Day are a revival, a resurrection: brand new cells, a healed fracture, a shot of Naloxone to restore the blood to equilibrium. But today is not Valentine’s Day, and Roger isn’t home. You aren’t entirely sure where he is, and you don’t know if you’d want to be. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up. I can show you my wicked new ride.”

“I’m intrigued. You’ll have to let me drive it one day.”

“What, directly into a cop car?”

“You’re awful and I hate you,” John says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “See you at 8? There’s a new disco in Soho I’m dying to check out.”

“Sure thing, I just have to make myself glamorous first. It’s quite a process now that I have all the elegance and svelteness of a large marine mammal. But I’ll rise to the occasion. I’ll be the most attractive whale you’ve ever seen.”

He chuckles. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

You roll up to John’s Putney house in your maroon Ferrari, the convertible top down despite the biting cold, a bomber jacket—just a tad too tight to zip up over your bump—concealing your short black dress. Pregnancy has finally started to look good on you, aforementioned marine-mammal-ness notwithstanding: your hair is thick and gleaming, your skin clear, your face fuller and emitting a mysterious, ethereal sort of glow. You check your hair and makeup in the rear view mirror as John jogs out of his front door. He stops dead in the driveway.

“Wow.”

You pat the passenger’s seat. “Hop in, felon.”

“He bought you a freaking Ferrari?!”

“Am I not worth it?” you joke, flipping your hair.

John slides into the car. “How do I become married to Roger Taylor? Tell me your secrets.”

“Well, to receive a Ferrari, you’ll probably have to get pregnant with his firstborn child too.”

“Ahhh. A minor obstacle.”

You laugh as you spin out of the driveway and cruise towards downtown London. Then you peer over at John, really taking him in, reading him like heart rates or units of measurement inked to the barrel of a syringe. His elbow is propped up on the window sill, his chin nestled in the heel of his hand, his blue-grey eyes unfocused as they gaze out into the night sky and streetlights that flicker by like the episodic flashes of a firefly. “Are you okay, John?” you ask seriously.

“Yeah,” he replies, a prospect that seems implausible.

“I’m glad you called.” You both know what that means: Roger isn’t home, I don’t know where he is, I don’t know when he’s coming back or what condition he’ll be in when he does.

John smirks wryly. “You have a shit husband. I am a shit husband. We should stick together, people like you and me.”

The disco is a small place called Lo Asilo with neon blue lights rimming the entrance way like vines laced through a trellis. John orders a Manhattan for himself, goes back and forth with the bartender for a while about the virgin drink options, ends up passing you a non-alcoholic raspberry mojito.

“I love it,” you pronounce after a tentative sip. This kid loves fruit. And sugar. And you feel a abrupt groundswell of affection for that sometimes inconvenient, frequently anxiety-inducing little person who temporarily shares your blood and bones: who they are, who they one day will be. These moments are coming more and more often, as your future solidifies in some ways and becomes more imprecise in others.

“You’re almost halfway done,” John says, pointing at your belly like he can read your mind.

You sigh. “Do we have to talk about me?”

“We definitely can’t talk about me.” He studies you for a moment, makes mental notes like someone browsing through archaeological artifacts in a museum. Then he realizes: “You don’t want to have to stay home.”

You nod, downing your sort-of-mojito. No offense, kid, but I could really use some mind-numbing inebriation right now.

“Because you don’t trust him...?”

“It’s not quite that,” you reply. “I can’t stand the thought of not being there if something happened to him. If something happened to any of you. If I wasn’t there to at least try to help and someone ended up...you know...” Goddammit, I’m so much more sensitive these days. You force it out. “If someone ended up dying, I wouldn’t be able to live with that.”

“No one’s going to die, love,” he says gently.

“People die all the time. Especially rock stars. Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison, Murcia, McIntosh, Bolin. I could go on. There will be more names a year from now. Maybe some we recognize.”

“What do you want me to do? You want me to haul him off to rehab? You want me to handcuff him to his hotel bed every night we’re on tour? I’ll do it if you think that would help. I’ll do whatever you want. Obviously I don’t want to lose him either. But I’ve never known Roger to be someone you could force into anything.”

“No, he’s definitely not,” you agree softly, in surrender.

The opening notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Go Your Own Way rumble from the stereo. John knocks back the end of his Manhattan and sets the glass on the bar.

“Alright, congratulations, you get your wish.” He grins, holding out his hand. “We don’t have to talk about you anymore.”

“I’m warning you, I am zero percent graceful in my current state.”

“I’ll manage somehow.”

“Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?”

John leads, pushing through the crowd to a spot near the center of the kaleidoscopic dance floor. Then he knots his fingers through yours, sways with the music, dances comically sluggishly as you struggle to keep up, twirls you randomly until you’re giggling against him, blushing and not thinking about Roger or the tour or your impending career change at all; and you suspect John isn’t thinking about Veronica either. You belt out the lyrics at the top of your lungs, flouncing around like an extremely ungainly Stevie Nicks, and after a moment John joins you, pumping his fist in the air:

“You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day...”

And it feels good. It feels more than good. It feels almost like being free.

Lindsay Buckingham’s guitar solo splits through the fog-filled room, and your smile begins to fade, recedes like the frothing ocean waves at low tide. And you think, more clearly and more inauspiciously than you ever have in your life: Something’s wrong.

The body knows when it nears catastrophe. There’s a primal dread that sparks up in the blood and nerves and endocrine system, seeps from your pores like smoke, cloaks you in that bleak, biological premonition. Dogs can smell it, can be trained to alert people before that nascent calamity manifests into a cardiac arrest or diabetic coma or asthma attack or stroke; and humans can feel it when that inevitable devastation creeps close enough, when it sharpens its fangs and scrapes them down the jugular. You’ve never truly been able to understand that before. But you recognize it now.

There’s cold sweat springing up on your skin like goosebumps. There’s a stormy rush of blood pounding in your ears. You can’t remember the name of the club, the city, the type of car Roger bought you for Valentine’s Day, the stone gleaming in your ring. The air that you wrench into your lungs is thin and fleeting, without the relief of oxygen. There’s an indescribably heavy iron twist of fear buried in your guts.

John freezes in the middle of the dance floor. “What?” he asks, alarmed.

There’s pain; sudden, sharp, low. Your eyes follow it. There’s blood snaking down your bare thighs. There’s indigo darkness crumbling around the edges of your vision as you sink to the floor. Your knees bruise against cold tile.

Someone is screaming for help; you aren’t sure who. But you reach for them, because they sound so irrevocably strong, because they sound like home. Your fingertips collide with John’s leather jacket.

“Make it stop,” you choke out through bared teeth, as claws of glass and barbed wire tear at where your future once lived. The agony is unnatural, razored, almost surgical.

“I can’t. Here, we’re gonna get you help, hold on, hold on to me—”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you sob into John’s neck. His skin is stubbled and dusted with nicotine and flare-hot. He’s trying to drag you to your feet, shouting over his shoulder for someone to call an ambulance. “I don’t want this anymore, I don’t want any of it. I don’t want to see the world. I want to go home.”

“Don’t say that, everything’s going to be okay, they’re coming, listen to me, listen to me, I’m going to get you help—”

“It’s too late,” you whisper. And every light in the world blinks out.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s February 16th, 1978, and you’re not pregnant at all.

You’re a registered nurse, and so you understand perfectly the terms that the doctors use when they explain to you why it happened, after they do the ultrasound to make sure the miscarriage was complete; when they tell you why it was doomed from the start. Stage 4 endometriosis. Placental abruption. Difficult to conceive, nearly impossible to carry to term. An open and shut case. That’s the genetic lottery, and some people roll straight sevens, blood-red sevens rimmed with fool’s gold.

What you have a harder time understanding is how this could have happened to you. How is it possible to have all of that organic poison building inside of you, all that latent ruin, and yet not know it? To have never had any symptoms besides slightly-more-annoying-than-average periods? To have a nursery set up in one of the five extraneous bedrooms—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper, to be exact—with a crib your child will never use, never peer out of with their tiny fists curled around the wooden bars, never cry out to you in the middle of the night from? To have a list of names scribbled on a notepad stuck to the refrigerator—Roger favors deeply Anglophile possibilities like Arthur and Jasper and Alice, while you tend towards names with a Southern European flair like Aurelia, Callista, Felix, Augustus, although you both quite like the idea of incorporating some variation of John—that you suddenly have no use for? To have to inform your husband, your parents, your friends that there is no baby, that there most likely never will be, and that it’s entirely your fault: So terribly sorry, due to a genetic glitch my womb is rendered inhospitable, we’ll have to leave that ultimate trophy of womanhood off the shelf indefinitely I’m afraid.

You’re in and out through the night. The dreams are murky and fragmented and ominous, jolting you awake four times an hour. John never leaves, except to periodically phone the Surrey house from the nurse’s station. And there’s pain now, of course, even through the haze of the morphine drip—your uterus cramping down to collapse the void, your head splitting from the shock and hormonal bedlam—but it’s almost like that pain belongs to someone else, someone you might have heard of but don’t know especially well. The pain doesn’t surprise you. What surprises you is the totality of the darkness that rolls over you like a quilt, like a second skin.

Shouldn’t I feel at least some infinitesimal amount of relief, of liberation? Shouldn’t I feel free?

“I don’t feel free,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and very quiet.

“What?” John leans into you, takes your hand in his, lays his palm on your forehead and smooths back your hair. Harsh morning sunlight streams in through the window. “What did you say?”

“I don’t feel free at all. I just feel empty.”

His greyish eyes are slick and anguished. “I am so fucking sorry,” he says, his voice breaking.

You whisper: “He’s never going to be able to love me now.”

“Shhhhh, don’t,” John pleads. “He’s always loved you. As much as he can, and in the way that he can.”

“You’ve been here all night.”

“Of course.” And he hasn’t managed to tell Roger. Which means Roger hasn’t come home yet.

You shake your head groggily. “No, you have your own family. You have to go home.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he says tersely.

“John, you have to go home. You have to call at least. Veronica could have gone into labor or something.”

“No, seriously, it’s fine, she pops out one a year no problem. I’m staying.”

A scalding tear slinks down your cheek. “You’re lucky to have her.”

“They must have you on a lot of drugs.”

You laugh, then begin to cry.

“Hey, don’t do that, please don’t do that, shhhh...”

John climbs into the hospital bed and you fold into him, burrow into his warmth that smells like cigarettes and dusky cologne and Manhattans, sob against his chest as he locks his arms around you and pulls you in until there’s no space, no air, no line between you at all.

“You have to be okay,” he murmurs, his lips to your forehead. “I need you to be okay for me. Because when I was messed up I didn’t get better for me, I didn’t do it for me, I got better for you. So now you need to get better too, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, not meaning it at all.

And he makes you promise again and again until you drift back to sleep with his steady heartbeat drumming against your palm, just loud enough to keep the dreams away.

~~~~~~~~~~

John finally reaches Roger at 9:47 a.m. Roger arrives at the hospital twenty minutes later, his hair a chaotic tangle, his eyes shielded by prescription sunglasses, still wearing the sapphire blue suit he left the house in the night before, his tie undone and several buttons missing from his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Roger begins. “I was at this party and met some guys who wanted to collaborate on my solo album, and it turned into a whole...oh, fuck, it doesn’t matter. Is she—?”

John grabs him, pushes him against the hallway wall, yanks off Roger’s sunglasses and pries open his eyes. Roger flinches, but doesn’t struggle.

“What—?”

“I’m making sure you’re not high.” John observes normal pupils and shoves Roger away, disgusted. “Get in there. She needs you.”

“You’ve done a lot for us,” Roger says.

“It’s mutual.”

“Thank you.” There are tears in Roger’s crystalline blue eyes. “Thank you so much, John.”

John nods towards the hospital room. “Just go.”

She wakes up when she hears the door open, and she knows it’s Roger instantly. Of course she does. Everyone knows the way a room changes when Roger walks into it, the way he lights up people and places like wildfire, the way he gets humans addicted to his innate magnetism the same way some are hooked on coke or alcohol or heroin. John isn’t that kind of man, and he knows it. He will never be that kind of man.

“I’m so sorry,” she tells Roger.

Roger shakes his head, cradling her face in his hands. “Baby, I’m not mad. I don’t blame you. I’m not mad at you.”

John watches as she explains everything, as Roger embraces her, as he says all the right things, all those beautiful and hopeful and effortlessly spellbinding things, as she begins—slowly, yes, but unmistakably—to light up again like rising sunlight glinting off quicksilver waves.

And only then does John leave.

110 notes · View notes

hayleyb100 · 4 years

Text

Light My Way, Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 the end

⚠️ WARNING! ⚠️

-It is a twisted story of Pokemon Sun and Moon, and a crossover of Pokemon SM and SWSH. -It features Hau and Kabu as the main characters. -Extremely angsty. -Everything is headcanon. -It isn’t spoiler-free.

Kabu was an ambitious man when he first came to Galar.

As his father was a craftsman for katana, he naturally became close to Fire-type pokemon, and He was determined to reach the top with them. His parents were also supportive of him and gave any help necessary. True to his ardor to reach the top, he became Gym Leader of Motorstocke Gym. But his ambitious dream tumbled to pieces over time. Kabu thought with his youth, vigor, and passion, he can burn down all the enemies in his way, but with time, his loss count stacked.

Too much until he was weeded out of the Gym Leader position.

Kabu felt lost. The only dream that motivated him to come to another region away from the parents was to become strong. But now that he was thrown out, he was too embarrassed to see them again after all their support. He hid the fact that he was thrown out to his parents. To continue to lie to his parents that he is doing well, Kabu started working for any job that he can lay his hand on to stay in Galar, but a young man wore out quickly with his wings to reach his dream snapped.

He became severely depressed that he lost all the wills for pokemon battles. He was busy maintaining his life in a foreign region and handling people's backbiting, that he forgot the purpose of why he even has to go on living like he is doing. Despite his distressed economic situations, he got drunk day after day to escape from the sad reality, but nothing helped. He started to disbelieve in himself and his potentials.

That's when his father reached him. As usual, Kabu lied that he is doing well. But his father quietly told him.

"If you are having a hard time there, always remember that you have home to return to. And even if the whole world turns cold back on you, remember you have your mother and I believe in you."

those simple but honest words woke up Kabu by far. That little fact where he has somewhere to return to gave him so much relief and consolation. After he hung up, he wept alone in his room for a long time. He felt refreshed than ever. He immediately cut off his drinking habit and started training hard with his pokemons again. He shed his old habits and mind set of power and started working on his tactics too. His passion burnt further with the fantastic match against Leon. With his efforts, he became the Gym Leader once again, and he was praised as one of the top Gym Leaders of the Galar who turned over a new leaf.

After getting back on track, Kabu dreamed of visiting Hoenn again to see his parents as a proud son. But his Gym Leader work kept him occupied that he just couldn't find the right time. His fear of losing his position again restrained him from going back to Hoenn to relax. He stayed in Galar to train and keep himself on edge. Days turned to months, and months turned to years. He rarely visited Hoenn and kept postponing his visit to his parents.

...Until it was too late.

When many years of peaceful days passed, Kabu received a call saying his parents passed away. As they were devoted to each other, they left on the same day together. He left the Hoenn at last to bid a final farewell. Unbearable heartache from regret devoured Kabu as he faced two portraits. He tried to stay as a strong Gym Leader to be the proud son as well, but he ended up not doing the basic duty of the child: Sharing his life with parents. He felt as if his bones were shattering, but he didn't just lie there crying. The flame of love that his father and mother passed on kept him firm. And all those years of hardship he went through taught him weeping and sitting down doesn't help.

After the funeral for 7 weeks, Kabu thought carefully about what to do in the airplane back to Galar. All his life he's been working hard to pursue his dream of becoming a great pokemon trainer, but upon his parents' death, questions started to brim in his mind.

So what was I stacking all this power for?

What was I burning for?

Was it just to show off?

Was it just for an honor?

Was it to become a proud son? But considering that, I ended up not able to pay the love back.

Kabu felt so much guilt of only receiving love from his parents and not repaying them with the love they deserve. And with Gym Leader work and the turmoil during his youth kept him busy, he never started a family either. It felt as if when he looked back, he had nothing to turn to. As he kept thinking in the airplane back to Galar, one thought came up in his mind.

'That's right. The least I can do to make sure my parent's love doesn't go to waste is to pass it down. I can pass down the love to who needs it the most as a legacy.'

Kabu resolved that moment. But considering people around him, there wasn't an appropriate person for him to do that. Most Gym Leaders were young of course, but they were all so mature and had a loving family. He knew it would be a hard and rough way, but there was one more option: Fostering. He was determined to help the one who is in the most need, like when Kabu was going through a hard time.

A week after Kabu returned to Galar, a video call from his great friend came. It was the most welcoming call Kabu had since the friend didn't contact him for quite a long while.

"Nanu, glad to hear from you. How have you been?"

"So-so."

Nanu was Kahuna of Alola who Kabu befriended during Nanu's trip to Galar. Professor Kukui of the same region wanted to start a Pokemon League in their place, so he was traveling around different regions to get an idea of how to run one along with other Kahunas who will be the Elite Four. Nanu grumbled in annoyance but still followed Kukui as Kahuna. At least Nanu gained one thing in Galar: A good friend called Kabu. They were about the same age and had the same interest which was pokemon, so they came close through pokemon battles and a glass of beer. Even after Nanu went back to his region, they constantly got in touch to babble old man's chat. But since quite a while ago, there was no call from Nanu whatsoever, so Kabu got a little worried. Well, until now that is.

"I heard that your parents passed away. I deeply sympathize. Sorry to hear."

"Thank you for the worries, but I'm alright now. I had plenty of times to think it over, so I have calmed down. However, I was more worried about you, honestly. What happened over 8 months? Were you busy building the League?"

"Well..."

Nanu scratched the back of his head and wore an awkward expression. Kabu was puzzled, as it wasn't the kind of expression that Nanu would normally wear.

"The plan to build the League was... abolished. For good, I guess."

Kabu was caught so off guard that he was stunned for a few moments. He couldn't believe that such a passionate professor like Kukui would throw a towel at his ambitious plan so easily.

"I... Wh... Did something bad happen?"

"Yeah... Bad. Very... Bad."

Nanu inhaled looking frazzled.

"It's actually the reason why I couldn't call for that long. Something bad happened in Alola."

"...Is it alright for me to ask why?"

Nanu seemed as if he knew the question was coming, but he sighed deeply.

"Kahuna of Melemele Island passed away."

Kabu gasped. He was shocked, as Hala was the most energetic Kahunas of all.

"His grandson has gone missing and his daughter-in-law died in an accident... His heart just gave out. After losing his mentor, Kukui was devastated and discarded whatever he was doing. The League, his research... Everything."

The Fire-type Gym Leader was lost for words. He didn't know where to start consoling.

"I... I am sorry."

"Hey, you're the one to hear sorry at the moment, right? Don't sweat it. I wasn't damaged as much as Kukui... Or the grandson."

The last words just pricked up Kabu's ears.

"Did you find him?!"

"Yeah... But in the worst condition."

Nanu shook his head as he told Kabu an unbelievable story of how the grandson of Hala was discovered in cold sleep.

Kabu couldn't imagine how ravaged the little boy was when he found out he was left alone in the world. That's when his instinct screamed him to go see that boy.

"Nanu, if it isn't too much of trouble... Would it be alright if I meet the boy?"

"Umm... Not without a purpose. He isn't fond of strangers now, you know."

"I know. But I need to."

Kabu inhaled deeply.

"I would love to foster him."

Nanu kept shaking his head saying the boy would be tough to foster as he was abandoned by the foster family twice and he isn't in good health. But Kabu insisted and pleaded, saying he will take good care of him. Nanu signed and approved, as he knew Kabu was pretty stubborn when he made up his mind and he was someone trustworthy.

In an airplane to Alola, Kabu studied the psychology of an adopted child, how to care for them, and what to expect and do. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the poor boy yet again due to lack of preparation. Nanu took him to the hospital, and he had a fateful encounter.

The boy was sitting on the bed quietly. Kabu was surprised at his lovely olive green hair like Oddish leaves and two round eyes like Deerling. But it tore his heart to see such an enchanting boy wasting away in sorrow. When Nanu called the boy, he looked back, and Kabu's eyes met a pair of eyes that looked like the night sky.

As soon as Kabu saw the eyes that looked like 2 black pearls, Kabu made up his mind. He wouldn't temporarily foster him. He will raise him as his own. He said he would foster him because he had to be careful with these things, but his mind was already inclined onto adoption instead of fostering.

This is the boy.

Kabu thought.

This is the child to pass down the love I've got.

#pokemon kabu #gym leader kabu #kabu #rival hau #pokemon hau #pokemon nanu #kahuna nanu #pokemon gen 7 #pokemon generation 7 #pokemon gen 8 #pokemon generation 8 #pokemon swsh #pokemon sm

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

Text

Snow

The snow was coming down heavy. Heavy enough that you weren’t sure you were going to make it to the extraction point in time. And even if you did, you had to wonder if the quinjet was capable of taking off in the rapidly escalating blizzard.

You tromped through the drifts, grateful for the GPS ping in your suit. There was no way you could see where you were headed, you were going strictly by following the directions being fed to you.

Through the dark and blackout conditions, a vague shadow appeared ahead of you. You paused, wiping the snow from your lashes and squinted. The outline of a person emerged from just ahead of the tree line. Your hand went to the weapon holstered at your hip, and you drew it, aiming carefully.

You heard a voice call, but the sound was muffled by the snowfall. You slowly stepped behind a tree and tried to make out the silhouette. Your GPS indicated you were still at least a kilometre out from your extraction point, so this person was unexpected. Potentially hostile.

You stilled as much as you could, watching the form move toward you. In the swirling storm, you lost track of it, and tried not to shriek when there was a hand across your mouth suddenly. A face leaned close. Thor. You sighed in relief and annoyance.

The big Viking god was the last person you wanted to see. Aside from the enemy, that is. Arrogance and pride seeped from his every pore, frustrating you to no end.

“There is a Hydra patrol nearing, and Stark has signalled that the quinjet is unable the land at this site because of the weather. We are to find shelter and stay out of site.” His words were quiet at your ear and you nodded and pulled his hand off your mouth.

“There’s a cabin about three kilometres east,” you said. “I passed it a while ago.”

“We are not going to make 3 kilometres in this storm. You will freeze to death,” he argued.

“Any better ideas?” You snapped, knowing he was right.

“There are hills to the north, the trees are denser, and the mountain is high with steep terrain that is difficult to pass. There is little more than goat paths. We will undoubtedly find shelter there and are not likely to be followed, he explained quickly.

“How is that good for us?” You demanded, imagining broken limbs and icy crevices.

“It’s not Jotunheim,” he winked. “So I can keep you safe.” He took your hand and led you in a meandering pattern through the woods heading north. Just as he had said, as you got into the foothills, the terrain shifted, and the trees were closer together. To snow wasn’t falling as hard, you noted, and as you climbed, the flakes became fewer and further between. You paused to catch your breath after what felt like forever. It had probably only been fifteen minutes of ascent, but Thor had been right about that too. It was steep and treacherous.

Your eyes were well adjusted to the darkness and with the snow so light you were able to scan your surroundings. There was a darker gash behind some trees. The complete absence of reflection or shadows intrigued you and you carefully scrabbled across the snowy rocks toward it. Thor followed, a single protest dying on his lips as he finally saw what you saw.

“Let me go in first, and make sure there are no predators,” he offered. He pushed past you and entered the cave, hammer at the ready. After a moment he emerged. “It is a good find. There are signs of habitation by hunters but not for many years. The wood is dry, and we can have a fire safely.”

You climbed the last few meters to the cave entrance and pulled your flashlight from your belt, scanning it around the cave. There was a couple of cobbled together stools, a moth eaten blanket, and a well defined fire pit.

You moved toward the fire pit with numb fingers and started stacking wood and kindling from the pile near the back wall of the cave. It didn’t take you long before a small fire was cheerfully crackling and you could feel you extremities starting to warm.

“You look exhausted,” Thor commented. “Humans are fragile. You should sleep.”

You shot him a glare and rubbed your hands over the heat of the flames. “I’m fine.”

“You should get out of your wet clothes and lay them out to dry,” he suggested, pulling his armour off and propping it up near the fire. The arming tunic he wore underneath came off next and he draped it over the chest plate near the fire. He was just about the pull off his pants when you protested.

“What are you doing?”

“I have no intention of freezing to death in wet armour when I can dry my things and warm myself by this fire you’ve built,” he explained, pushing his pants down. He pulled his boots off and hung his pants between the tops of his boots.

You decidedly looked away. Apparently they didn’t wear underwear on Asgard.

The ragged blanket landed near your feet. “Midgardians are so prudish about nudity. Cover up, but for for Odin’s sake, get out of that wet gear.”

“I am not wrapping up in this stinky, filthy rag,” you exclaimed. Thor raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it that you find so displeasing about me that every conversation feels like with you must feel like viper spit dripping on bare flesh?” He asked.

“You really want to know?” You asked.

“Truly.”

“You are arrogant, proud, dismissive of humans, think you’re better than everyone else, are always in my way, constantly appear out of nowhere, interfering with whatever mission I’m on, you’re stupidly handsome -“

“Is it my arrogance that bothers you, truly? My pride? Are those characteristics not deserved?”

“Humans don’t act like they own the world just because they’re ridiculously strong and annoyingly beautiful,” you protested.

“Is this because you feel inadequate? I assure you, you are more than adequate.” He looked genuinely puzzled.

“You think I’m jealous of you?” You asked, trying not to laugh. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m hardly worried about physical beauty. Brains are more my thing.”

“Perhaps the truth is that you find me desirable but feel as though I might not return the feeling.” His voice was softer, and lower. You furrowed your brow in denial.

“I could care less if you found me attractive.” Your protest sounded weak, even to your ears.

“And yet you are too modest to doff your clothing for your own safety, and you will not look at me. You dismiss me at every opportunity, and have thrown my physical desirability at me as an excuse to dislike me more than once, even in this conversation. I am no idiot, Ástin mín. I am sorry I ever led you to believe you were anything less than perfection in my eyes,” he said. You blinked.

“What?” You were so confused. He stepped closer to you and you bolted off the stool to face him. He placed a warm hand on your cheek.

“With your permission, let me show you,” he said. You nodded, and he dipped his head to brush his lips against yours. You pulled away slowly, your hand coming to your mouth.

“Oh,” you breathed.

“I am always in your way because I ask Steve to pair us. It is not a character flaw that you are weaker than I, it is what makes you human, and I could not bear the thought of you being harmed before I could make my feelings known,” he explained. “I appear out of nowhere because I am never far. I watch your successes and an mindful of your vulnerabilities. But I am afraid I have been a coward, and should have pressed my suit before now.”

“That’s an old timey way to say you want to take me in a date, isn’t it?” You asked, dumbfounded. He nodded.

“Although right now I am more concerned about your temperature,” he admitted, raising a hand to the zipper of your tactical suit. “I am done fighting with you. I am going to undress you now.”

“Kiss me again and I’ll even cooperate,” you sighed. With a soft smile, he dipped his head again and pressed his lips to yours.

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demisexualemmaswan · 3 years

Text

the story can resume (2/???)

A/N: "I'll definitely update in October," I said to myself two months ago. I tried to write but I admittedly struggled a little bit with writing this chapter. Hoping you'll enjoy this chapter! Also, I thought Henry was going to bet he sole narrator and then the muse decided otherwise. Hoping you’ll enjoy Emma and Killian’s perspective too!

Summary: “The story can resume. … I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”An unfortunate misunderstanding caused by secrets and naivety forces a young couple to be torn from each other far too soon. It’s up to Henry Nolan to put the clues together and right the wrong he has caused his sister and the man she loves most.Inspired by the book/film Atonement for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon. Tagging: @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @teamhook @jarienn972 @dreameronarooftop15 @captain-emmajones @klynn-stormz @snowbellewells @csalltheway @captainswanmoviemarathon @captainswan21 @xsajx @lonelyspectator12 @yasbio2015 @mariakov81 @xarandomdreamx

[Read on Ao3]

“And he burnt the manuscript?” Killian asked angrily, digging another hole in the ground for the new shrubbery.

“He tried to,” Emma sighed from where she was lounging on the grass. “Apparently it was rescued from the fire with only a singed back cover and enough emotional scars to almost keep Henry from writing ever again.” She closed her eyes, tilting her face toward the sun. “Was it a mistake for me to leave, Killian?”

Her voice trembled and it stopped him in his tracks.

“I...I can handle it when father gets like that. It’s been this way for ages, and he’s never understood Henry. I should’ve stayed here to protect him.” She slung her arm over her face to stop him from seeing her tears. He could tell by the way her chest hitched a little bit. “At the very least, by now they would’ve married me off and I could do something they’d actually be proud of.”

“Emma,” Killian murmured, putting the shovel down. He furtively glanced around to make sure no one was watching him before he sat beside her. “Emma, love. You would’ve hated being stuck here. As awful as those gits were to you, I know how much you relished using your mind the last four years. You’re brilliant in so many other ways that your father is an arsehole for being unable to appreciate. There’s no point in sacrificing your happiness for everyone else’s. You deserve to be just as happy as any of them.”

He reached out to touch her and then thought better of himself.

Killian glanced around again to make sure that Emma was the only one who had heard him. If he was to be honest, he had gotten quite used to the freedom that had come with being at Oxford. No one scrutinized their every movement, he could speak his mind to Emma, and she could speak hers in turn. If anything, their time away from the manor had solidified their ironclad friendship. When they were taking the train home, Emma curled into his side as she slept, the nightfall cloaking everything that they had wanted to hide from each other, everything they’d wanted to ignore. But daylight had thrown everything into a sharp relief.

Their stations, and Emma’s family, would never accept him as being more than the servant boy that they found on the street. Which would’ve been perfectly fine, if Killian had not been ardently and devotedly in love with Emma. He had no idea if she returned his feelings, but he fancied himself the keeper and protector of her heart.

(He had other feelings toward Emma that he would only act upon when he was alone, as he pictured the hollow of her throat, her hair tossed back and what she would feel like around him.)

He would just have to simply resume the task in secret. If anything, it made him feel like her knight, championing himself for her, promising himself in all things to keep her heart safe. He was quite sure Emma would break his nose again if he ever verbalized his feelings, either sort of his feelings. She was a tough lass and she certainly didn’t need to be rescued. An incident in a bar at Oxford involving one Neal Cassidy and a broken foot certainly proved that to all and sundry that Emma Nolan was not to be trifled with.

But Killian did not mind building his best friend back up when she felt knocked down. She was fierce and brilliant, but it did not change that she needed to be reminded of this when the world knocked just a little too harshly.

“I’m supposed to be picking flowers,” Emma muttered, finally drawing her arm away from her face. Her eyes were dry, if a little red. “David’s coming home today. For a visit. Did you know?”

“Aye, I’d heard,” Killian murmured. “A very reliable author informed me.” Warmth and amusement flooded his tone and Emma chuckled softly in spite of herself. “He’s bringing the fiancee. Mary something.”

“Mary Margaret. And two friends: Walsh Ozman and Graham Hubert,” Emma sighed, her green eyes flickering up to him. In the sunlight, he could see the golden flecks that were found in both Henry and David’s eyes, but they made her eyes look all the more striking. “Apparently they’re both extremely eligible bachelors.” Her voice hardened and her eyes narrowed.

“Well, you can always break their noses and send them running,” Killian said serenely, standing up and getting ready to return to the yard work.

Emma rolled onto her side and looked up at him, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “It didn’t scare you away,” she reminded him softly.

“And it never will,” he promised, heading over to the wheelbarrow and shovel again.

Emma’s hand reached for him as if to call him back and then she seemed to think better of herself, her fingers neatly folding in on themselves. “Thank you,” she murmured softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Killian.” She came up beside him for a moment and rested her chin on his shoulder, her arms ensnaring his waist.

He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her over his shoulder. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised softly, his lips so close to hers that it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to just turn around and kiss her.

For a moment they shared a breath, simply looking at each other. His eyes searched hers, desperate for some sign that he could do what he’d wanted to do for the last four years. Her gaze never broke from his, and he could’ve lost himself in the green of her eyes forever. She leaned in a little closer until a yell from the house distracted them both.

Emma pulled away abruptly, her breath rattled. Though he had not kissed her, he felt like his lips were buzzing with the anticipation of the act. “I need to go get the flowers,” she rasped, immediately turning on her heel and all but fleeing back into the house.

“Emma!” Killian called after her, racing to try and grab her hand, to get her to explain, to get her to tell him what the hell that just was.

But the honking down the lane signified the return of Liam with the car and the arrival of David and their guests.

And then one car became two, signaling the arrival of Emma’s cousins and Killian sighed. It was going to be a very long day.

“But I don’t want to act out your stupid old story!” Jack protested, folding his arms over his chest. “This is horrifically boring! Hardly any violence in it at all!” “I agree, I want there to be some action! I think it’d be rather exciting for Leon to be stabbed at the end and I am an excellent stabber!” Nick added excitedly.

“And I am very excellent at falling over and pretending to be dead!” Jack exclaimed. He leapt to his feet and Nick pretended to stab him. Jack held onto his chest and staggered before falling over, pretending to be dead. “See, Henry?” the boy asked, his voice muffled by the floor.

“No one is getting stabbed!” Henry protested hotly, crossing his arms. If he had known that casting his cousins in the reading of the story was going to be such an arduous task, he wouldn’t have done it at all. They were every bit as opinionated and bossy as they ever were, and any sympathy Henry had for their plight was long gone in the wake of their atrocious behavior. “If you want a part with stabbing then you can write your own story.”

“Let’s go swimming!” Jack cried, springing up from the ground. “It’s too hot and I don’t want to write or read any sort of story! It’s summer and I shan’t do any school work while I’m here!”

“It’s not school work,” Henry short back.

“No school! No school!” Nicholas chanted.

“Let’s go for a swim!” Jack cried.

“But then we won’t be prepared for--” Henry started, but the uproar of the twins drowned out his protest as the two bolted out of the rooms, racing to see which one could find their swimsuit the fastest and which one could do the biggest cannonball off the docks.

“Just a half an hour break, Henry.” His cousin, Ava, had only sat back during the whole exchange with a little smirk on her face. Even when she spoke, there was still a condescending edge to her tone that had Henry crossing his arms. “I’m sure you can manage that for your guests, can’t you? It’s what Uncle Leopold would want.”

Henry’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, go take your swim,” he muttered, looking at the floor. “I’ll just be up here waiting when you guys get back.”

“Will you rewrite Arabella’s last scene so that she faints?” Ava asked, tapping her cheek. “I’m a wonderful fainter. My drama teacher at school says so.” Henry just nodded mutely. “Good boy,” she said snidely before flouncing out of the room.

WIth a sigh, Henry sat back down at his desk, pressing his forehead to the wood. There was a moment where he briefly considered tearing up the whole thing and letting his cousins off the hook. But he was sure that it would come back to haunt him someway.

No doubt Ava would complain that Henry wasn’t being courteous to the guests and had destroyed the book because it wasn’t going his way. And then Henry would get a long lecture which certainly would feature the phrase “man up” several times over.

Besides, as much as he wanted to, he was sure ripping up his manuscript would only prove his father right and greatly disappoint Emma. He was more afraid of the latter in that regard that the former and so he set it aside.

Still, there was nothing that said he couldn’t write a revenge story about his cousins very quickly. That he could shred up so that it would never see the light of day, and it would make him feel more amiable toward his cousins upon their return from their swim.

After quickly adding in a line at the end to indicate that Arabella would faint, Henry began work on his project to let out his frustrations. In this story, he was much braver, all but shouting at his cousins. In this story, his voice roared like a lion when he took back his manuscript from his father and his father kowtowed to his interests. And maybe in this story, he was just a little bit better at math. There was nothing quite like getting lost in a story, as the world around him seemed to fade away. His bedroom no longer seemed to exist, but instead a world of evil queens, werewolves and monsters. He was quite entranced in his plot when a shout drew him away from his writing. Going to the window, he saw Emma and Killian standing by the fountain. Their father’s favorite vase was beside Emma, full of flowers. Henry was too far away to hear exactly what they were saying but he could hear Killian’s voice shouting at Emma. His sister stood stock still before she brusquely began shimmying out of her dress leaving her only in her chemise. Henry ducked away from the window, his heart pounding against his chest. What had he just seen?

Had Killian told her to do that?

Emma, after leaving Killian in the garden, had walked back into the house to get the vase. Her cheeks burned with how close she and Killian had been, though she tried to convince herself that it was just because it was hot outside.

She only had a moment’s notice to pull herself together as the twins came barrelling down the hall.

“I can jump farther than you!” “Well I can swim faster than you!” “Goodness, what’s all this about?” Emma laughed, watching Jack and Nicholas chase each other around the table.

“Can we go for a swim, Emma, please?” they pleaded in unison, still chasing each other in a circle.

“Yes, of course you can go for a swim!” Emma laughed. “Go on! Race to see who can get there faster!” The boys giggled and went tumbling out of the house, shoving each other as they went. She smiled fondly for a moment before she went back to find the vase.

She picked her father’s favorite vase, knowing that he would want to show it off proudly on the table, and at least if she’d picked the right vase it would be a small recompense for whatever damage she was liable to do later on in the evening.

Closing her eyes and counting to three, she took in a few deep breaths still trying to will the heat in her cheeks away.

“Why are you so flushed, cousin?” Ava asked suspiciously from the door.

Emma’s eyes flew open. “Because it’s the hottest it’s been all summer,” she replied. “And I’ve just been in the garden.”

“With Killian, I’m sure.” Her cousin responded, then took a considerable pause before adding, “I’m sure your father would be very interested in hearing about that.”

Emma did not appreciate the tone that her cousin was taking. She stepped closer to Ava, just to remind the other girl she was a little taller and a little older.

“A reminder to you that this is my house, and I am to go where I please,” Emma replied firmly. “And if Killian happens to be working while I’m lounging in the garden, then there’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, I’m sure my father would love to hear how committed Killian is to the upkeep of the estate.”

She brushed past Ava before turning around and adding, “It would do you well, cousin, to be more gracious to your hosts. You may be a guest, but don’t think I don’t know about the money that’s gone into keeping your family’s indiscretions quiet.”

“Are you threatening me?” Ava demanded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Emma replied with a thin smile. “I’m just reminding you that you could certainly practice a little more gratitude. After all, your reputation hangs quite precariously and if you fall out of my father’s favor, then you might actually have to work for a living, cousin.” She tilted her head and added, “Perhaps Killian might be able to teach you about gardening. He’s quite good at it.”

She began to walk away, but Ava was determined to have the last word. “At least I’m not a good-for-nothing like you!” Ava shot back, folding her arms over her chest with a pout.

She stopped in her tracks, turning around to face her cousin. The remark didn’t sting coming from her cousin. She heard it so often that the remark barely made a mark coming from anyone. “Was that meant to insult me?” Emma laughed, the sound high and bitter. “You’ll have to do better than that. I already know I’m a good-for-nothing.”

With that, she walked back out into the garden. Killian straightened up when he saw her, but didn’t dare approach. He went back to his work, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Emma picked flowers while she waited for Ava to stalk past them and follow her brothers. True to form, Ava flounced past them with her nose in the air.

“It’s an excellent bouquet you’ve picked, love,” was the first thing Killian said to her, after a few moments of heavy silence.

“Yes, I think David will like them a lot,” Emma said, trying to keep her voice bright. “I just need to grab some water from the fountain.”

“Well, that works out for me. Your mother wishes me to water the rose bushes by the fountain. I’ll come with you.”

Emma and Killian walked side by side to the fountain, the only sound passing between them the rattling of the wheelbarrow at first.

“You’re not a good-for-nothing,” he said quietly to her. “You have to know you’re…”

“I am, Killian,” Emma said quietly. “But you’re sweet for saying I’m not.” Her sigh was heavy. “Knowing me, somehow I’ll have picked the wrong flowers or the wrong vase too.”

“Well, let me water them for you,” Killian offered gallantly when they arrived at the fountain. “So that you can say you didn’t mess up the watering.” He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the vase.

“No, I’ve got it.” She tugged the vase closer to her.

“I insist, love.” He tugged it back to him.

“It’s watering a vase. I can do it.” A firmer tug and a firmer tone.

“Emma, it’s fine!” His handle broke off of the vase and fell into the fountain. His eyes met hers and he shrugged. “Oops.”

“Don’t ‘oops’ me, Killian Jones!” Emma demanded, running a hand over her face. “That was my father’s favorite vase. He’s going to kill me.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Killian replied. Emma took a step forward to yell at him. “Careful!” he shouted. Her feet had barely brushed the jagged edges of the vase and she stopped, frozen for a moment. Realizing that the handle was still in the water, she quickly stripped down to her chemise and dove in to fetch it. She winced when she felt the jagged edge of the broken piece cut into her hand, but she still held on when she came up for air.

“Emma, your hand! It’s cut!” Killian exclaimed. “Let me help.” “It’s fine,” Emma replied, fully aware that she was dripping with water and her chemise was essentially see through at this point.

“Let me help,” Killian insisted again, gingerly taking her hand in his own.

“So now you’re going to a gentleman?” she asked, trying to keep her breath from hitching at just how close they were standing to one another.

“Goodness only knows what’s been living in that pond and if we have to cut off your hand, I’ll never hear the end of it,” Killian replied. “And I’m always a gentleman.” He took a bottle out of his pocket and gently began pouring it on Emma’s hand. “Ah!” she hissed. “What the hell is that?” “Rum,” Killian replied, closing the bottle and taking her hand back in his. “And a bloody waste of it too.”

“What? Are you drinking on the job?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hardly, but it makes for an exemplary disinfectant,” Killian replied. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wrapping it around her hand. Using his mouth to secure it, he very gingerly tied it in a knot to secure it in place. “There.”

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, the hairs on her arms standing up.

“Is that all your hand is worth to you?” he teased, pulling back. “Perhaps some gratitude is in order.” He tapped his lips playfully, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“That’s what the thank you was for,” Emma retorted, her eyes shining with mirth. “Besides, it wouldn’t have happened if you had just let me fill the vase.” Killian quirked an eyebrow at her, and she smirked at him, knowing full well that he had blushed when pretty girls looked at him at Oxford. “Please. You couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” Killian taunted, popping the ‘t’ sound in ‘it’.

Emma stared at him for a moment before grabbing him by the suspenders and yanking him toward her. Her mouth slid against his and she desperately pressed into it for more. His arm hooked around her waist while his other hand went to her hair, trying to draw her in closer. She couldn’t help but moan as their lips slid together and he pushed back as if he could never get enough. When they broke for air, she was still clinging to his suspenders. They were sharing a breath, and though Emma couldn’t see Killian’s face--when had she closed her eyes?--he sounded as wrecked as he felt. Then, with a horrified spring of guilt, she realized that this was her best friend, and by kissing him, she could’ve compromised his future and his esteem in her father’s eyes.

“That was…” Killian started, the wonder still in his voice. “A one time thing,” Emma said frantically, pulling away from him. She gathered her things together and headed back into the house, leaving Killian there alone.

It broke her heart to leave him there, but she couldn’t put his future in danger.

The kiss made her realize that he meant too much to her for that.

#blaire's writing #csmm #csmm20 #captain swan movie marathon #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan fanfiction

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Rebel Hours (15/18)

Kwon Jieun always fit her parents’ image of the “perfect” daughter… at least to their knowledge. Away from prying eyes she was like any other girl living life to the fullest doing what she wants. When a little someone named Bang Chan comes into her life priorities are changed, mistakes are made, and her life finally becomes her own.

Angst this chapter

w.c: 2.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a week to get everything in place. Having to make calls and pull strings for the plan, on top of having to keep up with my school work, left me little time to do much else. I texted Chan when I could and he understood, especially with the situation at hand. He’s tried to figure out what exactly I was planning but I wanted to keep him in the dark about most of it. I’m not proud of what I have planned but it’s what needs to be done in order for my parents to listen. Knowing Chan, if he knew how extreme this was he definitely wouldn’t let me do it. Family is a big part of his life and he would hold himself accountable if I lost mine for what I’m about to do.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of my car and head to my parents’ front door. My nerves were buzzing and it didn’t help that I basically had to schedule an appointment to see my own parents. Mother took the chance to berate me for the "extra work" I caused them before actually giving me a date and time. At the door one of the maids greeted me and escorted me to father’s office before leaving me. I straightened my blazer to give me a smidge more strength after taking a deep breath and entering the room. Father seated in his chair and mother stood beside him, their glares followed me as I took the seat across from them.

“What does an unfilial child want? Going as far as making an appointment,” mother scoffed.

“It’s only fair to do since you both decided to treat my life as an object for transactions.”

“You-”

“Mother please. I think we both know there is some truth to those words.”

“Insolent child, how dare you?!”

Father boomed, slamming his hand on his desk. Internally I flinched but on the outside I leveled my gaze with my father’s as sparks flew in the air between us. Focus on the goal, no feelings. After silent affirmation I readdressed my parents.

“Let us discuss what I came here for, my unofficial engagement to Kyunghoon behind my back.”

“Look at this behavior! If we didn’t act, who knows what kind of trouble you would get yourself in. Do you know how much work was put in to cover for you and save your father’s reputation?”

“Mother the articles were harmless aside from a few small comments. There wasn’t much you needed to fix anyways but I will reiterate what I spoke of last time. I am in a relationship and will not be accepting the matchmaking you’ve arranged and definitely not Kyunghoon,” I bit back.

“This is precisely why we made the decision to pair you two up. Kyunghoon and his family are thankfully still willing to agree and that’s what you’re going to do. Do you understand?”

“I understand clearly but that does not change my response. Mother, if you continue to push this matter, I will have to make an extreme move that I believe neither of you would enjoy.”

“Are you threatening your parents right now? Children really are shameless these days… We’ve given you every connection you have, who would dare go against us?”

“Actually there were quite a few interested parties, father. People want to know if things are as perfect behind closed doors as they seem in public.”

I reached into my purse, pulling out three business cards, and displayed them on father's desk. With trembling eyes, he picked up and read each card before crushing them in his fist. Mother stumbled back to lean against the wall, shocked by my brazen behavior as I continued.

“The interview dates are set. As long as you drop the engagement and allow me to live my life as I wish, without intervening, these interviews will be nothing more than good press to bolster your campaign.”

“You wicked child! Now you want to bite the hand that fed you?! Fine, live as you wish but do not call us your parents because we did not raise a child like you!”

“I apologize for going to the extreme but I keep my words, and I swore to myself I would protect my happiness. I hope one day you’ll accept me for who I am rather than be seen as a tool to support your campaign.”

“Get out. I no longer want to see your face.”

My father’s words were harsh and short, cutting deep within my heart. I got up and bowed to both of them before turning to walk out but then I stopped. I reached into my purse and contemplated for a moment as I fiddled with the flash drive in the pocket. Walking back to my parents, I carefully placed the flash drive on the desk.

“There is a strong reason why I am against Kyunghoon. I understand that you’ve disowned me but if you’re ever curious about the girl who was your daughter and that reason, it’s all in here.”

Once I was safely in my car, all tension left my body as frustrated tears poured from my eyes. So many questions spun in my mind. Why were my parents like this? Why don’t they trust me… If I was honest, all that "exposing the truth” was all a bluff. I didn’t have the heart to throw away my parents’ hard work. I’ve seen enough to know that I wasn’t the only one the campaigns were having a toll on. I understand just how much time and effort was put into this, it hurt the most that they believed I was ungrateful and spiteful enough to ignore all of that. All I asked of them was for a little room to just be me, for once in my twenty-two years of life.

I don’t know how long I sat there like that until my tears finally exhausted themselves. When I looked in the mirror I was a mess as I covered my closed eyes in an attempt to ease the stinging the tears had caused. I needed to get rid of the puffiness and the red rimming my eyes ASAP. I’m meeting Chan later and he’ll already be able to tell that something happened, I don’t want him worrying too much if he sees I cried too. Luckily by the time I reached his university most traces of my tears were gone. As I walked onto the campus grounds Chan called and directed me to his location through the phone. The moment I laid eyes on his figure I put my phone down and weaved through the crowd as I knocked into him, wrapping my arms around him and letting out a sigh.

"That bad?"

I nod into his chest in reply. He gave me a squeeze before gently pulling away to examine my face. Looking into his eyes, I pulled a smile hoping he didn't notice the lingering puffiness. Thankfully he didn't as a soft smile graced his face.

"If it's that bad did the plan work? It's okay if it didn't, we can figure something else out."

"I'm definitely out of my engagement and they’ll leave us alone so I would say it worked."

"You must've had a hard time, you look drained. Wanna grab a coffee?"

"Yes please."

The coffee and just spending time with Chan helped soothe my guilt. Guilt for doing that to my parents and guilt for not being transparent with my boyfriend. Trust me I know it's gonna blow up in my face, the thought constantly nags me in the back of my mind, but there was no other way. Chan would definitely try to find another option but with the rumor and not knowing how long I had before they made things official, I needed to take the fastest and most effective route. Ignoring the little voice in my head, my attention was drawn back to the boy in front of me. We’re together and there’s nothing trying to break us up. Enjoy it… and that’s exactly what I did.

Two weeks fly by and it feels almost too serene. With my recent track record, I was expecting some type set back or accident or some drama to come up and send a ripple through the peaceful pond. Aside from classes and the interviews where I put on smiles to show I’m still the good child, explaining how supportive my parents are to me trying new looks, everything has been… normal. I’ve even had time to ponder a certain four letter word. The idea has danced across my mind on a few occasions but I’ve never really examined the thought. Am I in love with Bang Chan? From the indescribable force that draws me to him to the spirit that kindled itself in my resigned heart… love doesn't seem that far off but it seems as though fate didn't want me to dwell on the thought. Chan sent an urgent message to meet him… did something happen? As anxiety and fear swirled in my chest, I rushed over to the park between our two campuses. When my eyes landed on him, concern flared at his listless form as I moved closer to him.

"Hey what happened? Why did you need to see me so urgently? Are you okay?"

"So were you just going to keep this from me too? I thought we were over this."

Shit. No no no no no. I didn't tell anyone, how did he find out? The only people who knew were me and-

"Did my parents come looking for you?"

"They did but that's not the problem. When we got together we agreed, no more secrets."

"I know we said that but if I told you I knew how you were going to react-"

"If you knew how I would react, the more reason you should’ve told me! We could've found another way."

"There was no other way Chan! There was no time for an alternative. My parents don't listen until there is something on the line."

"It makes sense," he scoffs, "why you were so upset that day… you abandoned your family for-"

"Let's get one thing straight. They were the ones who disowned me because I wanted to take control of my life rather than let them make all of my decisions," I cut him off.

"But you did so by threatening them. How else would they react to their child acting like that?"

"If they took the chance to know me, they would’ve known. No matter how angry I am I would never put their livelihood at stake. I know how hard they worked to get my father where he is."

"Exactly Jieun and because of me you’re not only hurting your parents but also yourself… "

"If that's what it takes then so be it. I'm more scared of losing you than upsetting my parents. They will get over it if they want to keep me as their daughter," I stated stubbornly.

"But I'm not okay with that. How do you think that makes me feel? Knowing that I’m the reason you and your parents don't speak anymore?"

"That was their choice. All I could do was oblige with their request and let them know my door’s still open. Those were their actions that you have no control over, it's not your fault."

"I just- so much has happened and I don't know if I can keep doing this."

It was like the world slowed down. My heart screamed at me to tell him how losing him would be like losing a piece of myself and I wouldn’t recover… but my mind knew better. I’ve been in his place before so I should understand but I need to be sure what was at stake.

"Chan you don't mean…"

"No? I don't know, I just need time to figure things out. Even if I get over being between you and your parents, there is still the fact that you kept this from me."

"I messed up, I know that, and I’m sorry but Chan please," I begged.

I didn’t mean to say that but his doubt, although well deserved, cut deep within me and I lost my resolve for a second. It's just scary when you realize you’re in love and now you might just as quickly lose it. The desperation in my voice was evident and there was enough running through his mind, he doesn't need to add my wreck of an emotional state to his problems. Pulling my internal state together, my feet stepped away from him as I gave him a slow nod.

"I'm sorry for that behavior just now, it’s nothing. Take all the time you need, you know how to find me when you’re ready.”

I tried to give him a smile but I could tell by how his eyes softened that he didn’t buy it. We stood there in silence for a moment, unsure how to end this conversation? Argument? Do you just walk away? My mind was a swirling mess when his voice cut through the chaos.

"It’s getting late you should head home…”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #my writing #rebel hours

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mcfanely · 4 years

Text

Nightowls

Dancing, as Cole now remembered, was addicting in the best way possible. One performance was all it took and now he couldn’t get it out of his head. The exhilaration, the sheer feeling of elation and for once being able to just let loose a long hidden part of himself, even if no one knew about it. Yet, the shift in emotion definitely didn’t go amiss amongst his brothers.

Chapter 06 - What’s Next?, 2080 words

There were times when Cole questioned his life choices, and dancing with Chamille; not caring what anyone thought of him- odds on, some of the people there didn't even know him. He was probably just a guy who showed up one day and eventually decided he wanted to do more than just stand at the sidelines and watch.

There was no downside to his decision, all he could think was, why did I ever stop doing this?

But Cole knew why. He remembered the regimented and planned schedule that Marty Oppenheimers' focused on. All the classes that he didn't enjoy, all his classmates; all the teachers even; former performers, singers, actors, who were all well aware they taught at one of the most renowned private schools in Ninjago. They all loved what they did, that was clear, but it just wasn't…

It wasn't Cole.

He liked structure and order as much as the next person, but being graded on a dance discipline he didn't like, or taking written exams on the history of Performing Arts in Ninjago.

Then there was the fact that he only went to that school because it was the same thing his dad had done when he was his age.

Whereas his dad had graduated with flying colours and gone on to have a successful career, Cole had run away.

That wasn't to say he hadn't been successful. He'd helped save Ninjago multiple times, averting disaster after disaster, and if anything his time as a Ninja had only served to strengthen the honestly dwindling relationship he'd had with his father for so many years.

His dad was proud of his choices, Cole was proud of his life; but the universe always had a weird way of coming full circle sometimes.

What he was doing, in that moment, nothing was comparable to it.

So why did he ever stop doing something he genuinely loved?

The second time he danced was later that night, though it wasn't nearly as out there as the first performance.

He was standing just at the edge of the crowd, partially watching the dancers in the middle, but also trying the steps for himself. They fell into place easily, and he'd never felt more at ease just dancing. He was in a place where it was expected and enjoyed, and even though it had taken Cole over a month and many sleepless nights, he had the stark realisation that doing something he loved doing, surrounded by people with the same interests, what was there to be embarrassed or nervous about?

The only issue was that, as soon as he stepped back into the monastery everything went back under wraps. Though, that didn't stop the wide smile that he felt plastered on his face for the entirety of the following day. He'd even gotten back in time for training, walking into his room just a little before six in the morning, Cole had subjected himself to the quickest and coldest shower he could to try and wake himself up and it still wasn't enough to stem the still present hum of adrenaline and excitement under his skin.

Even losing a spar against Lloyd didn't dampen his mood, he just kicked himself up off the floor, dusted himself off, retrieved his scythe and shouted, "Nice work, kiddo," He smiled, "Didn't see that hit coming."

The area lapsed into silence, the clanging of weapons stopping.

"Did you… Really just say that?" Lloyd questioned, one eyebrow arching up, before he settled on an idea, "You never let your opponent win, why now?"

Cole paused, leaning on the pole of his scythe, the end jammed in between two stones, "Let you win? Dude, no, you won fair and square. I wasn't paying attention."

"Did you just admit you lost?" Kai questioned, he must have been listening in.

"Yes? You say that like I'm a sore loser. That's Jay." He nodded to the blue ninja.

"Hey!"

"Anyway," Cole shrugged, "Nice job, greenbean, I'm going to go change."

He turned and started to make his way back inside. He could feel sweat making his gi stick to his chest, and the way his hair was dampened down; it didn't help that it was a warm day too. Yet, training had to be done, even if the heat was sticky and uncomfortable. Nothing another shower couldn't fix.

Only, Zane was in his path, "Who are you and what have you done with Cole?"

There was a sense of humour in those circuits then.

"Oh, ha ha." He rolled his eyes, "Funny. I lost, so what? It's training, that happens." Cole moved his eyes over his icey friend, and crossed his arms over his chest, "This feels like an interrogation." And it did. With everything stopping. The birds were still tweeting their morning song, the sun was still rising, Jay had gone back to messing with his nunchucks if the woosh noise of them spinning through the air was anything to go off.

But with Zane on one side, and Lloyd and Kai on the other, he felt almost penned in.

"You're happy." Zane observed.

Cole frowned in an oxymoronic reaction to the statement, "Am I not allowed to be happy?"

"Of course you are, it's just--"

"We know you haven't been." Lloyd added after a second, stepping just a fraction closer.

Oh.

So maybe he hadn't been as subtle as he could be with his ongoing issue with nighttime and what it brought, but that was getting better.

He was getting better.

At least, he felt better?

"Cole, you've been looking exhausted recently and--"

"Guys," Cole held his hand up loosely, as if waving off the incoming conversation before it even started. "I'm fine. I'm all good. Golden even."

Lloyd ran a hand through his hair, halting just off to his side "Cole--"

"Listen, I'm having a good day. A really good day." Cole admitted after a moment. "Like, a 'nothing can dampen my mood' type of day. Those are rare. So, I'm going to go shower," He pointed in the general direction of his room, "And I'm going to enjoy this day. I'm fine, literally."

What did it say about him, if nobody seemed convinced at his words?

He sighed, then brushed past Zane with a small smile and a wave which for him, halted the conversation, "Right, you guys can keep being pessimistic, I'm out."

He could feel the eyes on the back of his head until he turned a corner, but he left it at that. Cole had other things to focus on, anyway.

Specifically, when he was going to dance next.

It was weird, that the night before he'd spent the entire trip into Ninjago city experiencing a minor freak out over what he had been planning to do. He'd talked himself out of it, and then back into it multiple times, and in the end he hadn't been given much of an option due to an extremely excited Chamille. So Cole definitely had her to thank for everything, because now he couldn't get the experience out of his head.

It was incredible, it had been so much fun and he could see why he saw the same people perform almost every time he went to Nightowls. Dancing was addicting in the best possible way.

Sure, he could freestyle whenever he wanted, it wasn't hard. Give him a good song or a specific style and he would make do. Yet, there was just something different about a choreographed routine. All the hours that went into it, the focus. The passion and dedication. If freestyle was like a sheer burst of serotonin, then what if he actually did a routine?

As Cole was stepping out of the shower after his second wash of that morning, this time at least having less paint to make sure he scrubbed off, he was already set on his idea.

Then it just came to the logistics of everything.

Mainly, how he was going to choreograph and practice a routine in a place that was never empty unless there was a Ninjago ending crisis going on, in which case there would be no time for anything else other than saving the world again.

However, Cole wasn't a quitter if he had his mind solidly set to an idea, so the process quickly went from a case of 'how?', to ‘how was he going to keep the inevitable process hidden?’

Though that wasn't so hard once he thought about it either.

It was honestly amazing how far a good set of headphones and a chair propped up against the door could go.

That isn't to say he didn't have any close calls. With the chosen music blaring in his ears, his eyes closed and his body moving on its own accord to map out the song and movements in his mind, it wasn't like he was paying attention to the door of his room. The only aspect that clued him in to someone knocking progressively louder with each thump was the fact that the chair nearly topped from its already slightly precarious position under the door knob.

Cole took a mad dive, catching it before it clattered to the ground and swinging the door open in one smooth movement.

He pulled his headphones off his head to sit down on his neck, the track still pumping from the speakers.

Kai was standing on the other side, dressed in his pyjamas with his toothbrush hanging out one side of his mouth. He must have stopped in the middle of brushing his teeth since his words came out slightly muffled around the foam.

"It's eleven at night, stop making so much noise." The fire ninja ground out, his brow furrowed, "What're you even doing anyway?" Kai reached out and knocked a finger against the headphones and in retaliation, Cole batted his hand away. "Nothing. Aren't you meant to be asleep already, isn't it past your bedtime?" He shot back, a smirk growing on his lips.

That set Kai on the defensive, and quickly swayed away the conversation. "What, no! But I would be sleeping if you weren't stomping around the place. Go. To. Sleep!" Each word was punctuated carefully, and Cole just let out a breath and reached up to turn the music off, then raised an eyebrow as if to say better?

That seemed to do the trick.

Kai gave a half-hearted thumbs up, and trudged back off down the hallway.

Cole did turn in for bed after that though, it wasn't as if he needed to rush the process. Plus, a tired Kai was slightly more annoying than well-rested Kai. Anything to avoid the former. Though he did practice the next night, and the next. After-dinner-game-time as Jay put it, was fun, yet there were only so many high scores that Cole could continue to break before he eventually got bored of the same five titles.

He used that time to practice, and in between either sleeping or sneaking out to Nightowls, dancing quickly went from something he'd never thought he'd do much of again, to nearly a nightly thing.

So when his routine was finished and polished after over a week of practice, Cole had had to force himself to go slow during dinner that night, and it was a conscious effort to stop himself from tapping his feet nervously on the floor. Whatever worries everyone had about his honestly improving sleep schedule, Cole wasn't ready to give them another reason to corner him and get him to talk about his feelings.

He was all for being open, but some things he could deal with himself.

Then he killed some time in his room, his headphones on full volume. Cole wasn't dancing, just humming along quietly. He knew the routine, he knew that he knew it. This was the time to cool off and relax, to try and tame the flurry of butterflies in his chest.

Though even as he was passing through the hallways of the monastery, a cloth bag over one shoulder holding his mask and an assortment of other things for the night, the nerves were just growing. The cool air of impending night and a drooping sun helped slightly, dragging in a deep breath and letting his lungs expand for a few seconds, Cole descended the monastery steps.

Only, he hadn't been as sly as he'd liked, since he wasn't the only one who left the monastery that night.

From the beginning

Ch 05 > Ch 06 > Ch 07

AO3

#Nightowls AU #Nightowls #cole #cole brookstone #cole ninjago #kai ninjago #lloyd ninjago #zane ninjago #jay ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #mcfanely aus #mcfanely writes #mcfanely #dancing

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sylphid187 · 3 years

Text

Coming Home, Taking Flight ‐ Chapter 2: Road to Osaka

This Chapter 2 of my fic focusing on Hinata's journey home. A look into Hinata's return to Japan, his interactions with his friends, and how he makes it into the MSBY Black Jackals.

Hinata Shoyou wakes up religiously the next morning. He gets up, goes for a morning jog, gets some yoga in his routine, then makes time for morning meditation. He makes sure to do all this, before heading to the kitchen to make some breakfast for his family.

He spent most of yesterday and last night catching up with his family and friends, who had to leave late in the night, after they realized that the sun was down and Tsukishima still had to drive Yachi and Yamaguchi home. During dinner, Shouyou had spent blissful time with his family, his mother seemingly very happy about having the returning presence of her eldest, back in their household. He is reminded again how being back in the company of his family in their own home, was so comforting.

He walks around their kitchen and, as he waits for the rice to finish cooking, he goes into the fridge to find some salmon slices and some tofu. Shouyou smiles and figures that he probably has enough ingredients to make a healthy japanese breakfast with the salmon, and he's sure his mom has enough ingredients to make some miso soup to go with the meal. He smiles as he is reminded of how he fiddled around in hisbshared space with Pedro, and how Shouyou would usually make breakfast for his roommate, before going to wake him so they could enjoy a meal together.

As much as Shouyou wanted to treat his family to some brazillian recipes he'd learned from Nice, he didn't have enough ingredients for it right now. So he promises himself he'd do that another day. He'd be more than happy to share the other culture that he's grown to love, with the one that he grew up with.

Later, when Shouyou is just about finished with setting up the table and their morning meal, he hears padded footsteps make their way through their dining area, and is sure that it's Natsu that's making her way to the kitchen. He hears a gasp and looks up to find that he's guessed right, and Natsu is there staring at their table.

"Wow Nii-chan, this looks great!" she claps her hands together in glee and continues to scan over what Shouyou has made.

"Thanks Natsu! Hope you like it! I packed one for mom so she can take it with her to work." Shouyou smiled. His mother still worked on the weekends, and she was used to laboring hard as a single mother. She had worked hard her whole life to sustain Shouyou and Natsu. Shouyou hopes that his dreams of going pro wouldn't just be a benefit to him, but would help lighten the load on his family too.

"It really does look good! I can't wait to dig in!" Natsu clasps her hands together again, before heading to the sink to wash them, and sitting down at her usual spot on the table.

Shouyou then sits across from her, and they both give thanks before beginning to dig in. Natsu immediately gives out a happy squeal after a few bites, and Shouyou can't help but chuckle at his sister's antics. He's extremely pleased though that she seems to genuinely like his food. "Nii-chan! This is so good! It looked great, but it tastes even better."

Shouyou grins. "Flattery will get you nowhere Natsu, but thank you. I'm really happy you like it."

"It's a real shame you won't be staying longer Nii-chan. I wouldn't mind eating more of your cooking. You're leaving this afternoon right?" she asks him with a smile.

"That's right. I'll leave by noon, sorry I won't be able to spend more time with you and mom. And I just got home too." Shouyou states, a little gloomy at the thought.

It saddens him a bit that he can't spend more time with his family, just after he's gotten back. But Shouyou cut it really close when he chose to fly back yesterday. He couldn't book earlier flights because he also wanted to maximize spending time with Pedro, Heitor, Nice and Coach. That, and he did promise to wait after Heitor and Nice's wedding. But, he needed to be home in time to make it to tryouts. Granted, his chosen flight really didn't give him much time for any detours. Tryouts were on Monday, and today was Saturday. The plan was to head out Saturday afternoon to Osaka via train.

The train ride from Miyagi to Higashiosaka in Osaka was about nine hours. He had planned to leave around noon to get to Osaka by 10pm. He still had to find a place to stay, but he figured he would work it out when he got there. He could, of course, leave on a Sunday. But Shouyou wanted to have enough time to familiarize himself with the area before tryouts, and have at least a little bit of time to get in shape while waiting for the day to arrive. He didn't want to show up to Osaka not knowing where he was headed and end up missing tryouts because he got lost. With this, he'd at least have a full day to go around the area.

"Don't apologize to us for following your dreams, Shouyou." The two look to the sound of the voice, to find their mother there with a smile on her face. "We support you, always remember that. And whenever you're having a hard day and need to come home, we'll be here to welcome you back."

"Mama..." Shouyou smiles. He really was very lucky, and he will never tell himself otherwise.

"That's right Nii-chan! And I can't wait to tell my friends and teammates all about you when you make the team!" Natsu says as she shoves another piece of fish in her mouth.

"Natsu! I told you I have to make the team first. There's definitely tons of competition for a spot on the team." He contemplates on this. He's both nervous and excited for tryouts, but he will definitely be doing his best, no matter who his competition is.

Their mother goes to the countertop and picks up the lunch Shouyou made and smiles at her son. "Oh believe me, you'll make it."

"Mama! Not you too! I don't wanna be overconfident about it."

"Shouyou, I'm not saying it because of any other reason, but because I truly believe that you'll make it." She goes over to him and pats his head. "It doesn't matter to me how old you and Natsu ever grow up to be. I will always be your number one fan. And you always remember one thing, I am so very proud of you."

" Thank you." Shouyou feels like crying, but he stops himself and opts for a wide smile instead. "I'll definitely ace tryouts, you'll see. I'll make sure they notice me."

"Yes you will!" Natsu chimes in.

"I know you will." She thanks him for the meal he's made for her before kissing both kids on the cheek and making her way to the door. "By the way Shouyou, are your things packed for later?"

"Yep! I made sure I had everything before going to sleep last night." He says with a proud smile. "I might end up leaving a little earlier though. I want to make sure I catch the train on time."

This makes their mother stop in her tracks, and Natsu snicker. "Shouyou, did you think you were taking the train?"

Shouyou is confused. "Yes? I mean, how else am I supposed to get to Osaka?" he asks as he tilts his head to the side.

"Natsu."

Natsu grins "Don't worry about it mama. Nii-chan will find out later anyway. So everyone agreed to keep quiet about it."

"Keep quiet about what?" Shouyou asks again as he looks between them both. "Am I missing something?"

"It's a surprise." And what a surprise it was.

---

Shouyou was just grabbing his things and about to head out the door, Natsu following behind him. "Nii-chan I really think you should wait a bit."

"Sorry Natsu, if I wait any longer I might miss my train!" He ruffled her hair affectionately and continued "Take good care of mama while I'm away, okay?"

"Nii-chan wait!" Natsu tries to grab Shouyou as he opens the door, but misses. He slides their door open and comes face to face with none other than Kozume Kenma and Kuroo Tetsurou.

Shouyou blinks. And then again. And again. "Kenma-nii! Kuroo-nii! You made it just in time." he hears Natsu speak from behind him.

"Yo, chibi-chan! What's up?" Kuroo's personality hasn't changed at least, Shouyou thinks.

"Wha...what are you guys doing here?!" Shouyou gasps, as he looks over at the newcomers.

"Shouyou." He looks over to Kenma who is smiling at him. "I'd like to think you owe me a better greeting than that."

"Yeah, that's kinda hurtful chibi-chan. After we came all the way here to take you to Osaka." Kuroo says with a grin as he slings his arm around Kenma's shoulder.

" You're taking me to Osaka?!" Shouyou exclaims again in shock.

Kenma sighs, a small smile still on his face. He dislodges himself from Kuro’s hold and goes to envelope Shouyou in a hug. It takes a moment, but Shouyou relaxes and immediately hugs back. "Welcome home Shouyou."

Shouyou feels someone ruffling his hair and he opens his eyes to see Kuroo there with a smile. "Glad to have you back Chibi-chan"

He feels Kenma let go, and the gamer finally stands back to take a good look at Shouyou after all this time. "You look good."

"Thanks Kenma! You too!" He grins.

"Should I be jealous?" Kuroo asks with a smirk as he watches them, but one look from Kenma shuts him up as he raises his hand in resignation. He chuckles and shakes his head, allowing the two to continue talking.

"You've changed too." Kenma continues as he grins. "I can't wait to see what else you're gonna do Shouyou."

"If you get boring, I'll drop you."

Shouyou ends up giving out a nervous laugh as he remembers Kenma's words from back then, just when Kenma offered to become his sponsor. But deep down, he knows that Kenma has only ever done everything he could to help Shouyou, and that was said in jest...probably. The former Nekoma setter was just really fascinated with him, for some reason.

"As much as I love the touching reunion, we have to move folks. It's a 10 hour drive to Osaka!" Kuro exclaims as he pats their backs.

Kuro and Kenma both begin to help Shouyou and Natsu bring the former's things to the car. While they're loading up, Shouyou continues to say thanks to his friends for taking the time to bring him to their destination. "I really appreciate it you guys, thank you. I was fine with taking the train though!"

Kenma scrunches his face in disapproval and replies "There's no way we'd let you take the train, not when we had the time to pick you up ourselves."

"I hope you guys didn't put off anything important." he tells them. He knows how busy Kenma has been, as he's regularly kept in touch in Brazil.

"I can manage Shouyou, don't worry too much about it." Kenma says with a wave of his hand.

"What Kenma means to say, is that if he had it his way, he would have been the one to pick you up from the airport too. Unfortunately, he lost at a game of rock-paper-scissors to Tsukki and had to give the airport pickup to them. And he also wants you to know that he finished all his workload early to make sure we were free when you got here. So don't you worry about it." Kuroo says as he shuts the trunk and dusts his hands. He looks over at the two with a large grin before he feels someone lightly punch his side.

Kenma gives Kuroo a glare and then another playful shove. "Just get in the car before I decide to leave you here Kuro."

"Awww you'd never do that kitten." Kenma stares at Kuro with a piercing gaze, and Shouyou thinks if looks could kill, that was it. "Annndd I'll be quiet now. Come on chibi-chan! let's get you to Osaka!"

Natsu waves at them animatedly as they all get in the car. She lets out a loud "Keep safe!" as they drive away from the Hinata household and begin their 10 hour car ride.

The ride begins similarly to that of yesterday, filled with catching up and updates on how everyone else has been doing. Shouyou has had little contact with the former Nekoma team, with the exception of Kenma and Kuroo. This wasn't for the lack of trying either, but he’s only ever occasionally spoken to Inouka and Lev, and that's during one or two video calls during a day off. It isn't a surprise to him that team Nekoma have all worked their way up the ladder as they grew up, and even through their success, continued to stay connected within their own circle. Kenma and Kuroo themselves regularly spoke to all their former teammates and told Shouyou much of how they were all doing.

"Waaah! I've heard from Lev about his modeling career! I didn't know he'd become such a big name in Russia." he exclaims excitedly.

"Lev is still Lev. He might look pristine and proper in the photos, but he's just as loud as ever." Kenma says with a sigh, as if just talking about Lev was tiring him out.

Kuroo guffaws. "At least he's mellowed down some because of Yaku."

Shouyou tits his head "Are they?"

Kuroo looks at him from the rearview mirror and smiles. "We can neither confirm nor deny, I'm afraid. Neither of them have said anything, but Yaku's sent us photos of them together. It's pretty common at this point, ever since Yakkun's been playing for the Russian V-League."

"We hear he plans to come back though. There's some talk that they've begun to scout for players fit for the Japanese volleyball olympic team, and Yaku wants to be here and play for Japan." Kenma states, as he begins to fiddle with what seems like a new game console.

"Ah yeah! Bokuto's been excited about that too. But he wants the Jackals to win this season first and finally kill the Alder's winning streak." Kuro tells them with a smirk. "And you know, they might actually be able to if you make it on the team chibi-chan."

"Ahaha...well I'll definitely make sure to make an impression during tryouts." Shouyou says. "I can't wait to see Bokuto-san on Monday! I wonder if he'll be watching tryouts?"

"From what Bo tells me, Coach Foster is requiring them to watch this year. He wants the whole team's opinion on getting a new player." Kuro replies.

"Shouyou, what do you mean by seeing Bokuto on Monday?" Kenma immediately asks, putting his game down and turns to look at Shouyou.

"Eh? I mean, I won't be seeing him till tryouts." Shouyou reiterates with a tilt of his head, when else would he find the time to see Bokuto-san?

"Wait chibi-chan, aren't you going to..." Kuro doesn't get to finish.

"Shouyou, where in Osaka are you staying? Sorry, we forgot to ask earlier." Kenma asks him.

"Oh! Sorry, my bad. I was wondering if you guys knew of any affordable budget hotels that you can drop me off in that's near the tryouts gym?" Shouyou asks with a smile. He sees Kenma freeze and Kuroo's eyebrows shoot up.

"..." Kenma stays silent for a little too long, and Shouyou wonders if he's said something he shouldn't have.

"I can look one up though! So you guys can drop me off somewhere in the area and I should be able to find one that'll let me stay two nights!"

"Kuro." That's all he hears Kenma say, before the rooster haired man is nodding and passing his phone to Kenma.

"Got it. Just send the text out and let them know it's you. Shouldn't be a problem." Kuroo replies. Shouyou doesn't understand what's happening.

"Um."

Kuroo looks over at him again. "Don't worry about it chibi-chan, we know exactly where to take you."

"Really? Where?" He asks, confused.

"You'll see."

He can see Kenma vigorously typing a message using Kuroo's phone, and once he's done, looks over to Shouyou again with a smile. "You're not sleeping in a random hotel, Shouyou. I'm not letting you."

"Eh?"

"Don't worry though, we've already found a solution." Kenma continues with a smile.

"Eeh?"

"Better to just go with it, there's no stopping Kenma when he's like this." Kuroo grins again.

"But..." Shouyou begins to protest. He really hopes his friends aren't spending money on him. "K-Kenma..."

"But you know," Kenma stares at him then, with catlike eyes that seem to be boring into his soul. "If you ever do something like this again and not let me know, I'll be really upset Shouyou."

"Eeehhhh?" Shouyou binks. He looks between the two and can't help his confusion from growing.

What in the world is Kenma talking about? And where in the world were they taking him?!

CHAPTER 1 BELOW

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu hinata #hinata shoyo #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#fanfic #sylphid writes #homecoming #msby tryouts fic #post timeskip #kozume kenma #kuro tetsuro #kuroken

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azulann · 4 years

Text

Refuge

Prompt: Lush

Some Yura and Alphinaud Fluff

Art by my wonderful friend: https://www.deviantart.com/sing-sei

A light sneeze broke the serene silence of the Shroud, a warm sun and a cool breeze rendering the weather around the area pleasant and calming. Alphinaud stepped lightly as he made his way down the beaten path before him, destination in mind yet in no rush to meet it. In no rush to disturb the lasting peace of the foliage. Another sneeze, another assurance that Alphinaud had been correct in his identification of the area to which Yura had made her usual disappearance. She was nothing if not consistent in this much at least. The young Elezen tread carefully across the dirt as he approached Yura, with no desire to either distract or alarm her as he watched her finish filling the ground before her. Yura often made her comfort zone in the forests of the Shroud. She seemed so calm, so peaceful at work. It was how she always was when she came to this place.

He watched as she finished her task, brushing herself off as a content sigh left her lips. Judging now a better time than any to beg her attention, Alphinaud spoke, “I thought I might find you here.”

Yura’s gaze shot up towards the young man, her eyes widening for a moment before a smile returned to her lips. “It’s not like I was hiding, you know,” though her words may have been true, it was not as if her place of refuge was anywhere of extreme evidence.

“I am aware. Still, not many might think to seek you out here,” Alphinaud grinned back down at her in retort. The area she chose to make her comfort zone was a road less traveled but benefited more for it. She had made it her own little world. Her own little garden of which she frequented. What was her work and what was the work of the forest, he could not say, but either way, it was her place of solace?

Yura gave a slight tilt of her head at his words, raising a brow at his words as she cocked her smile further, “Yet you would?”

“I’ve come to recognize your affinity for the area, yes.” Alphianud approached Yura further, crouching down to meet her level as he continued to speak, “You’ll get sick if you stay here too long.”

“Aye, I’ll be fine mother,” Yura jostled her friend lightly as he drew closer to her, turning her head to loom towards the canopy above, “I just wanted to come help before I went back. Relax a bit. It's always so peaceful here.”

Alphinaud made himself further comfort as he sat fully next to his friend, gaze turning in accompaniment from the young woman to the sky above, “T’is indeed a place of serenity. One cannot blame you for seeking solace in such times.” A silence fell between the two as they continued to gaze upward for the Twelve only knew how long, the deafening silence only disturbed by the brushing of the wind against the trees and the wildlife’s cheers for the calm day. Alphinaud eventually saw fit to break the silence between the two teens as he drew his gaze back at Yura, intently continuing her gaze at the sky “I do feel my curiosity begging to ask what seems to draw you here so often. Pardon my saying but I believe few ever pictured you as the “garden” type.”

Yura’s gaze did not falter at her friend’s question, continuing to gaze up at the vast space. She pondered her words for a moment, inhaling the scent of the world around her before speaking, “I grew up around… a lot of snow. Ishgard is nice and all but not exactly the premier place to go to see towering trees and lush vegetation. I did not see a lot of it growing up,” Yura reached upwards slowly to grab at a falling leaf, watching as it slowly slipped from her grasp as she continued to speak, “When I first left home, I was… really lost. I had not planned ahead. I had not thought things through. By the very nature of life, I should not had made it as far as I did,” once more she reached outwards, gently grabbing at the falling foliage , small bits just barely grazing and missing her hand as she reached further towards the sky. “But, by the grace of the twelve or whatever such nonsense one might seek to believe, I was blessed enough to be taken in by good souls. Kind people. J’thel and the like. They could see I was lost. I was confused. And so, they brought me here. To the Shroud. It was not always safe, nor was it always peaceful, but it was… calming. Fascinating. Perfect'.'

“T’was all a new sight to you then. A new feeling,” Alphinaud’s vision grew slimmer as his face cracked in a further smile, his gaze fixed upon Yura even as she focused solely upon the sky. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so idealistic in all these years I’ve known you.”

Yura finally broke her fixation upon the sky overhead, bringing her eyes back down to look into her friends for a moment, her smile widening. With the jubilance of a child after a bit too much sugar, Yura found herself jumping upward from her sitting position, reaching back towards the sky with full force, “I had never seen so much green before in my life!” She stayed reaching for a moment before pulling her arms back down to her sides, though her gaze held it’s fixation on the heavens, the sun beginning it’s descent from the sky. “I remember spending hours among the foliage, a child in a dreamland. I had never seen so much color. J’thel spent more time then he would have cared to tracking me down after that, always waiting to see the small girl poke her head from the grass and vines, covered in pollen, petals, trimmings, any of it.”

“Not too far from where you appear now, as it were.” A gentle hand brushed Yura’s shoulder, pulling her gaze back towards her friend for a moment as he dusted the dirt and petals from her shoulder. The pair held the look as he moved to brush further foliage from her head gently, smiling softly as his hand dragged past her check slowly, hand lingering upon her head long enough to send a blush to Yura’s cheeks as she turned away once more, though her smile remained.

Clearing her throat, eyes fixed upward once more, she continued, “Something opened in me that day. Something bright and hopeful. It felt like the ice around my heart had begun to melt away. All that torment that had built… it was gone, if only for a moment. It did not stay happy forever. Things happen and… I had to make a choice. To find my own way. But I still remember it all,” Yura broke her gaze one final time to look down at a small bush of flowers before her, running a hand softly over the leaves, gently caressing the blooming buds, “I come back here, in body when I can and in mind when far away, to remember a time of happiness. Of joy among the sorrow. Even with the pain I feel in remembering some of those days, the time we spent here, together… the warmth I felt from those strangers turned family. Seeing these blooms, even slow as they may grow, it makes me feel… happy again. To love something so dearly. To have something so important to come back to. ”

Alphinaud tore his gaze from the Young Au Ra to observe the plant on which she had fixated. T’was not grand by any means, but still young and strong. Where now there stood buds there would one day be full blooms. Full beauties. Full showings of the love and care she had poured into the flowers. For the love she held for those dear to her. “To hold all this so close to your heart. I never knew that such a place, something so simple, was so important to you.”

“The love I feel for this place…It’s how I feel about you. And the Scions,” The young elezen’s ears perked at Yura’s words as she spun his gaze back around to look at Yura once more. Her eyes had moved to him, squarely fixed upon his face as a light pink hue crept to her face. Yet unlike her usual moments of sentiment, t’was not a blush of embarrassment, but of joy. Happiness. Her eyes shone bright enough to assure him of that. “We were all strangers trying to make our way in the world. I knew you and Alisaie of course but I don’t think we all ever really “knew” one another. We just sort of… stumbled into each other. And grew. We sprouted like this lush garden and grew ourselves a home, new and proud,” Yura gently took her friends' hands in both hers, squeezing them gently as she cast her vision down for a moment to gather her words. “Meeting all these people when I felt I had nothing left…” she gazed back at her friend softly, “It meant the world to me Alphinaud. You and everyone else.”

Another wave of silence crept over the pair as they beamed at one another, both turned shades of pink by this time but both content in their blush. In a synchronized movement they both made their way closer to one another, pausing inches from one another as they cast deep gazes into one another’s eyes, memorizing the light that showed in each other’s. Slowly did they close their eyes as their lips brushed every briefly before pulling away just long enough to enter a content hug, enveloping one another in a tight and never ending embrace as Yura whispered quietly.. “Thank you for letting me share all this with you. All of this.”

#FFXIV #FFXIVWrite2020 #FFXIVWrite #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #Yura Kha #Yura x Alphinaud #Yura and alphinaud #yura #My Writing

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