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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

His + Hers

Summary | You didn’t want a bodyguard and certainly didn’t need one. Bucky didn’t want the job. But as soon as the two of you meet, all bets are off.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | language (including light degradation, possessive!Bucky, smut (oral - f receiving, piv) - minors dni or you will be blocked

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

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“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” rolled eyes and loudly snapped gum. Crossed legs and an anxiously jiggling foot. The aging clock ticked loudly as your gaze burned into the giant dual monitors that shielded the man on the other side. He had just oh so casually dropped some horrible news to you.

What was his name? Jeff? Jeffrey? Jefferson? It didn’t matter. Funny. For a man that you’d seen more often than your father in recent years, you’d think you might have remembered his name. Despite all that you still hadn’t seen him more than four, save five, times.

“Those are your father’s wishes.”

“Then why isn’t he here telling me this?”

“He’s a very busy man.”

“A man too busy to see own daughter, his own child, always work, work, working,” you spat, “what he could be doing that’s so important that he couldn’t even spare me fifteen minutes of his time?”

“He’s-”

“It was a rhetorical question,” you stood up and grabbed your bag, “sometimes it still shocks me that a man that claims he loves me so much he barely speaks to me, sees me. I don’t want this bodyguard - if you send them to me I will simply send them away. Don’t waste my time or theirs.”

“Your father is going to send someone regardless of your wishes, you must know this by now.”

“Tell him if he’s so insistent upon me being chaperoned like a puppy that he can come and talk to me himself,” you threw your shoulders back as you tried to chase away emotions or feelings. This was not the time or place for them, “see you in another six months for so.”

“Miss -”

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bucky’s groan was heavy - irritated - as he trudged up the stairs to the ninth freaking floor. Of course you couldn’t live somewhere near the bottom. Of course the elevator was broken, “I’m gonna murder you, Wilson.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he calmed himself with every single step. Left foot, right foot, and repeat. Before he knew it, he arrived on your floor, less angry but still annoyed.

Bucky looked around for your apartment number, finding it quickly but wishing he hadn't. It was supposed to be a simple job - hang around you for a little while until things calmed down around your father. There was never any huge threat to you, but you were to be kept safe anyway. Typical rich people, he practically rolled his eyes. Complete idiot, he sighed at himself. He could have walked away from the gig easily, but things had been quiet after everything in New York and he needed something fresh. Naturally he’d say yes to this when Sam mentioned the job to him.

Once he found your apartment he slowly trudged through the hall, his mind all but made up about you already. You were going to be nothing more than a spoiled little brat. He looked at the golden number above your door and sighed heavily before knocking loudly.

For a few moments, nothing but silence met his ears before he finally heard what he was sure was annoyed grumbling inside accompanied by soft footsteps. The door was whipped open and Bucky came face to face with you.

Your brows knitted together as you studied him before crossing your arms over your chest, “can I help you?”

“James Barnes,” his name practically came out as a sigh. You raised your eyebrows at him but remained silent.

“And?” you asked as you moved to close the door, “I’m in the middle of my fifth zoom meeting of the day and annoyed and hungry. Thanks for wasting my time. Have a fantastic day.”

Before you could slam the door in his face, Bucky stuck his foot in the doorway and prevented you from closing it. A huff escaped your lips as you glared at him through the crack, “your father sent me. I’m supposed to look after you.”

“Ahh yes,” you rolled your eyes and frowned, “the baby-sitter my father hired. I told him and his assistant that I don’t want - or need - anything to watch me. I’m fine. So if you don’t mind you can leave. I’m busy and don’t have time to deal with you.”

“You don’t pay me sweetheart,” he scoffed lightly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You wanted a challenge? He’d give you one, “and as long as that’s the case, I stay.”

“I’ll double whatever he paid you.”

“Oh honey, I doubt you could ever afford that.”

“What can I do to get you to leave?”

“Nothing.”

“It really doesn’t seem like you want to be here either so why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and cut the shit?”

“Not until your father tells me it’s okay to leave,” he smirked, “I don’t take orders from little girls, sweetheart. Nor do you pay my bills.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a bitch,” your mouth opened into a little pout as you attempted to shut the door on his foot, “you can shut the door, it won’t hurt me. I’ll just tear it down if I have to.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Want to find out?” he asked as you threw your head back and sighed at the ceiling. Yes and no. You wanted to push his buttons and see how far you could press. But you also didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Instead you slowly, ever so reluctantly opened the door, refusing to move but motioning for him to come in. He practically sauntered in with a victorious little smirk on his lips, “good girl.”

You were to let him have it when he turned around to face you and finally got the chance to study him. And your jaw almost hit the floor. Fuck.

He was handsome - dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen with a five o’clock shadow. He was dressed in very well fitting jeans, along with a henley and leather jacket. So casual but he managed to make it look so good. For a moment you thought he looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place. Maybe you’d seen him around somewhere.

Well, this presented a whole new predicament. This would have been so much easier if he hadn’t been one of the most gorgeous men you’d laid eyes on.

“Like what you see?”

“I’m not into old men,” you cocked your head to the side and watched him with a smirk. Bucky almost tripped up and let an emotion slip but instead he remained pointedly neutral as he looked you up and down.

It would have been easier to dislike and hate you entirely if you weren’t so damn cute. You were dressed in a comfy, oversized sweater and joggers and big fuzzy socks - casual and cute but effortlessly so. It was a challenge not to stare.

“Whatever you say,” he held up his hands in mock defeat as you became momentarily placated, “what’s the plan for today?”

“I have a job and things to do,” you huffed as you pushed past him, “so just do something or whatever and stay out of my way. If you insist on being here.”

“I do.”

“This is going to be fucking hell, isn’t it?”

“It can be whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart!”

“Sure thing, doll.”

"I hate you already.”

“The feelings’ mutual, honey.”

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Hating Bucky was a full time job. Bucky having to chaperone you through all of your shenanigans was a full time job. Both of you were incredibly stubborn and damn near made the job impossible.

You'd be lying if it said he wasn't attractive and that you hadn't thought about him. Especially late at night. Alone in bed. But you'd rather die than admit that to him.

Bucky had a feeling he'd break you down eventually; not that he expected anything to come of it. He enjoyed flirting with you and watching you get frazzled and nervous. But you weren't his type. Nuh uh - Bucky Barnes wasn't into pretty little spoiled brats. Even if they weren't attractive and smart and genuinely kind underneath it all.

That wasn't part of the job. Which was why he never let it go past anything that could be deemed as flirtatious.

Just as he vowed to break you down and just admit you liked him, you might have had a little goal of your own…

"Come on," Bucky sighed as he paced around your living room, waiting for you to come out of the bedroom so you could pizza and watch movies. It had become somewhat of a Friday night tradition, reluctantly so. It was hard to get out and have a lot of fun when you had a silent, intimidating brooding man following you around, "how long does it take to change?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you opened your bedroom door and stepped out, slipping on your heels, "I'm ready."

Bucky's eyes widened as he looked you over. You were wearing a little black dress and fuck me heels along with ruby red lips and a full face of makeup. He fought back a little growl as you smirked at him, "what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Its called a dress, genius."

"To get pizza so we can come back and watch movies?"

"That's not the plan," you straightened up and walked past him, grabbing your purse and jacket.

"You said-"

"I lied," you stated the obvious, "I'm going out to finally have some fun. Without you."

"I'm coming with you," he crossed his arms over his broad chest as you tried not to stare, "that's the job, sweetheart."

"And I'd like to actually have fun and get laid," you threw your hands up, "its hard to do that with you breathing down my neck constantly! If you insist, can you at least like stay ten feet away. Give me a fucking break."

His breath had hitched in his throat as soon as he heard the words get laid and he worked to keep it together. He sighed as he forced himself not to imagine you underneath, naked and begging for more.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "ten feet only."

"Thank fuck."

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One drink had turned into two which easily turned into three and after that you’d both lost count. Bucky had been sitting at the bar, a singular, but arbitrary drink in his hand as he watched you get progressively looser as the evening wore on. His steely gaze almost never left yours as he watched you chat up people around you. You were naturally extroverted, and definitely a flirt - but then again maybe that was the alcohol - and it wore Bucky out trying to keep an eye on you. He wasn’t terribly concerned about what was going on, but still, he was a man that took his job seriously.

It wasn’t until he decided that it was fine to let you out of his sight for a few moments only to turn back and found you missing. A growl bubbled up in his throat as he scanned the tightly packed pace and found you in the middle of the dance floor. You were pressed against a man that had been eyeing you up since you’d gotten there, mouths smashed together as you kissed him like your life depended on it. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your ass the entire time.

As soon as you ground up against him, something in Bucky snapped. He threw back the rest of his drink and quickly made his way over to you. The people in his path parted like the seas when they noticed the predatory expression in his eyes. Before you could even realize what had happened, you felt a hand tightly squeeze your shoulder. A gasp left your lips as Bucky pulled you away from your newfound friend.

“What the fuck!” you glared at him as the man that just had his hands all over you grew visibly nervous. Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, “Bucky!”

“Keep your filthy fuckin’ hands off of her, you understand?” he growled at the man as he just nodded, “I ever see you near her again and you’re dead. You leave my girl alone.”

Bucky shoved him away and the man practically skittered across the bar and out the door without so much as a single glance back. Breathing angrily, he turned around to find you staring at him in awe, arms over your chest. You were suddenly incredibly sober, “what the hell was that? I’m not your fucking girl, Bucky.”

“We’re going home. Now,” he reached for your hand and held your wrist in a tight grip as he dragged you without another word. You wanted to argue with him and fight back, but there was something about his possessive nature that had sent a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth to your core as you let him pull you along like a ragdoll.

Maybe your dangerous little plan was finally going to turn into reality.

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“Are you going to finally tell me what’s going on?” you asked as you walked back into your apartment, trailing after Bucky and slamming the door shut, “you chased off my only chance of-”

Before you could say anything else, Bucky’s hands found your waist and he crashed his lips onto yours in a bruising tangle of tongue and teeth. You responded with a surprised moan as he backed you up against the wall, making sure you didn’t hit your head.

“He’s a fuckin’ boy,” he insisted as he lightly gripped your throat, causing you to part your lips as you fought back a moan, “he wouldn’t have made you cum. Probably doesn’t even know where your pretty little clit is.”

“And you would?” you challenged, already knowing exactly where this was leading. Something in your mind told you that this was wrong and you should have stopped it, but the larger part of you really just wanted him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it for weeks and weeks now, touching yourself late at night to the thought of him. Bucky smiled at you - a dangerous, toothy, wicked thing causing you to swallow thickly, “I don’t think you could. You’re all talk, Bucky. Probably haven’t even been laid since the 40s.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this too, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin, making it a point to mark you up. That way everyone would know you were his. He rutted his lips lightly against yours, and you could already feel how hard he was, “I see the way you look at me - I know you’ve thought about me. Probably touched that pretty pussy of yours and wished it was my cock, huh little girl?”

“Bucky,” his name was nothing more than a whimper of your lips as you tried to reach down and touch yourself. He was quick to grab your hand and pull it away. You whimpered as he just chuckled darkly. Oh, how easily he could break you down with just a few words, “please. Need you.”

“I’ll give you what you need,” he swore as he watched you with hungry eyes. He shimmied up your dress and moved to touch you. His smirk only grew when he noticed you’d forgone panties, “look at you, such a little slut. You didn’t even put on panties? You really wanted this, didn’t you? Were you just hoping I’d touch you? I bet you had this whole thing planned out - just wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”

You looked at him with wide doe eyes but remained silent as you tried to play coy. But he was having none of it, and grabbing your jaw, “answer me.”

“Mhmm..,just want you,” you admitted as he slowly let go before grabbing both of your wrists in his vibranium hand and pinning them above your head, “just touch me.”

And he did - slowly, he dragged his fingers through your folds, smirking at how wet you already were, “oh honey, you’re practically dripping. So wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you. Such a good little slut.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him circling your clit slowly before feeling your soaked folds and sliding a thick finger inside. A small sound of surprise reached his ears as you almost rutted into his hand and he easily slid another finger in. The stretch from his fingers was enough to spark the warmth in your belly as you bit your lip to keep from whining.

“Look at you, such a needy little thing,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he fucked with his fingers, “but you’re not going to cum on my fingers. I’m going to see if you taste as sweet as you look. Gonna make ruin that pussy for anyone else. You’re mine - you understand?”

“‘m yours,” you whimpered as he let go of your hands and slowly sank to his knees in front of you. His large hands, a contrast of warm and cool, splayed on your thighs before slowly traveling up to your hips and grabbing them in a bruising grasp. This man was really working to make sure he would remain all over you. He pressed a few kisses to your thighs before stopping at your mound, and you could feel his warm breath fanning across on your pussy, “please.”

“That’s right, you can be a good girl,” he didn’t even hesitate for a moment before diving in and licking a stripe up your folds, causing sparks to shoot throughout your spine. You could feel him smirking against you at the immediate effect he had as he ate you out like a man starving.

Bucky Barnes was not a shy man when it came to eating pussy. He licked and suckled on your clit as he let two of his cool vibranium fingers slide into your pussy. He crooked them just right, effortlessly finding your g-spot as your knees threatened to buckle. No one man had ever made you feel this good before, nor so easily.

“F-fuck,” you hissed as he pulled back and look at the blissed out expression on your face, “more please.”

“Look at you pretty little thing,” he grinned as he pressed a few wet, sloppy kisses to your mound. He pulled his fingers from you before reaching up and practically ripping your dress off. If you’d hadn’t been so close to cumming, you would have yelled at him, but in the moment you didn’t care. Especially not as his hands found your breasts and massaged them before he played with your pert nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, “not wearing a bra either. You are bad.”

“‘m so close,” you whined as he just smirked at you. Before you could say anything else he slapped your pussy, causing you to jump slightly before you keened into his touch, silently asking for more.

“You like that, honey?” he teased as you nodded with closed eyes, your mouth forming a small o. He repeated the motion before he grabbed your ass and buried his face back into your pussy. You moaned into his touch, bucking your hips against his mouth as he made all the most sinful noises as he ate you out like his life depended it on. He worked pure magic with only his tongue and he soon had you seeing stars as your legs started to shake around him. He anchored you to him and kept you from falling down as he brought on your orgasm, “that’s it honey. You’re going to cum all over my face, going to taste all that pretty pussy has to offer.”

“F-f-fuck,” you reached down and carded a hand through his dark hair as you held him against you, “jesus.”

“Cum for me,” he commanded and you did just as you were told, crying out his name like a prayer as you felt your release wash over you. Bucky stayed between your legs as you came all over him, cleaning up every little bit you had, not stopping until you were begging him to stop from the over stimulation, “tastes like fuckin’ candy. Best pussy I ever tasted.”

“Jesus,” your chest was heaving as he kissed his way up your body. He stopped at your lips and offered you a victorious little smirk, “you’re an asshole but at least you know how to eat pussy.”

He grabbed your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him, “you’re mine - this pussy is mine and no one else’s, you understand, little brat?”

“Ruin me then,” you raised your eyebrows before you kissed him again, trying to beat him at his own little game. But it was no use - he was easily more dominant and held control over you, “make me yours.”

“Turn around,” he growled as he flipped you in his arms and pressed you against the wall. You moaned as his hands mapped out every curve of your body before you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass. Just to spur him on a little more, you bounced your ass and he slapped you a few more times before massaging your skin to soothe the pain, “you like it when it hurts. God, you’re perfect. My little slut.”

“Please fuck me. Need you so bad,” you practically whined but quickly grinned when you heard him undo his belt and pants before he pulled his cock out. He groaned in your ear as you heard him stroke himself a few times.

“‘m so fucking hard, baby,” he ran the tip of his cock through your folds and you could already feel how big he was, “got me leakin’ already. Thought about you and that smart little mouth so many times. Always cum so hard when I think about you. Can’t wait to see how good this pussy feels squeezing my cock. You’re going to take all of me, little thing.”

He coated his length with your arousal - you were already so wet again - before slapping his cock against your ass. You tried to reach around so you could touch him but he slapped your hand out of the way.

“Put your cock in me,” you practically begged and before you could say anything else, he plunged into you, causing you to practically scream in surprise. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed inside of you, feeling like he was practically splitting you apart. The burn quickly faded away as you moaned and clenched your walls around him, “fuck, you’re so big.”

“Did you expect anything else, pretty baby?” he whispered in your ear before grabbing your hips again. He slowly pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into you with no warning. You clawed at the wall as he set a brutal pace, slamming his hips into yours over and over again, letting you have almost no room to breath. The only sounds that left your lips were small whimpers and mewls he fucked you to an inch of your life.

You felt the coolness of the vibranium snake around your body before he found your clit. You let him press you against the wall as he pounded into you, and you quickly left your second orgasm start to bubble up in your tummy.

“Taking my cock so well,” he praised as he slowly played with your clit. He was not shy about being loud and moaning, all while murmuring filthy praise into your ear, “so tight - so perfect. This pussy was made for me.”

“More,” you begged in between breaths, “harder, please.”

“You want it harder, pretty baby? You’re not gonna be walkin’ after this,” he smirked before he picked the pace and fucked you even harder than before, which you hadn’t even thought possible, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Mhmm,” you agreed with a wistful smile, a fucked out expression on your face as you felt his cock twitch inside of you as your walls started to clench around him, “please, please, please.”

“Gonna fill you up,” he said through gritted teeth as he slowed his thrusts, making them slower and deeper than before, “gonna make sure you know who you belong to.”

It was a few more thrusts before you came again, crying out as the pleasure rippled through your body. Bucky came quickly after, grunting as he came inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. He fucked you through it all, not stopping until you were feeling boneless and he had filled you with every last drop.

He easily caught you just as you were about to collapse in his arms and pulled you against his chest as he pressed a few kisses to your shoulder. You reached behind you and carded a hand through his arm, scratched at his scalp as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you said as you tried to catch your breath, “that was incredible.”

“I told you I’d ruin every other man for you,” he slowly pulled out and turned you around so you were facing him. You put a hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “you’re mine.”

“I’m your girl,” it was like music to his ears as you reached between your thighs and swiped his cum mixed with your arousal up and sucked it clean off your finger, “my pussy is yours and your cock is mine.”

“Good girl, “ he praised with a wicked smile, “now get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to use.”

“Yes sir.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years ago

Text

A Helping Wing

Quick Revali scenario, I have had this idea for some time now and I’m finally posting it lol. Anyway enjoy soft, worried Revali!

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

Summary: A trip to Goron City gets an unexpected turn with an even more unexpected reaction from the Rito Champion.

Notes: Injury

The scorching heat that dominated the air on the way to Death Mountain would have been unbearable if it weren’t for the fireproof elixirs you had made well in advance. Still, the hot air had its effect on you as you found yourself wiping tiny beads of sweat from your forehead every now and then as you walked along the rocky path. You could only imagine how the thickly feathered Rito behind you was most likely suffering from the heat much more than you were.

“Remind me again why are we on this absolutely horrendous trip to Goron City in the first place,” Revali complained behind you, eyebrows frowned in annoyance. A part of you knew that this would happen. Knowing him, just about any small nuisance in his way made his beak spill out words of irritation. All you could do was sigh.

“Daruk got seriously injured and Mipha requested us to bring her some supplies so she could heal him faster,” you explained, though had already done so when you initially started your trip to the city. You threw him a quick glance. “Without these, the process could take days.” You lifted the bag on your shoulder that held the herbs and potions the young Zora had asked for. Revali merely scoffed.

“Well, if this is such an important mission, why are we wasting our time on foot when we have two perfectly operational wings right here?” He motioned to his wings with his eyes. “Surely we would get there faster and be done with this cumbersome task.” You let out a laugh, keeping your eyes forward.

“As if you would let me climb on your precious little back,” you mocked. If there was something you knew about Revali is that he had too much pride in, well, everything, so you knew that what he was implying was practically impossible. Even if he was willing to let go of his ego in this rare, inconvenient situation, there was a problem with his idea. “Besides, the herbs would just fly out and burn if we’re that high up.” You turned around to look at him.

“We’re almost there. Just hang in there a little longer."

Revali clicked his tongue but eventually sighed, accepting your words. Despite his exasperation, you were right. Even with the effects of the elixir, flying high surrounded by the hot air would do damage to the precious contents of your bag, but also to him and you. His feathers would probably catch fire and that was the last thing he wanted. So, he continued to walk behind you, muttering miffed words under his breath.

As you pressed on under the extreme temperature, something quickly caught your eye. You stopped and Revali looked at you, raising his brow in confusion before your voice came through.

“Bokoblins.” You nodded towards the creatures. “Four of them.” They danced around as they usually did without a care in the world. The Rito crossed his wings.

“Nothing you can’t handle,” he stated, his words making you look at him in bewilderment.

“Me? Are you not going to help?” You purposely kept your voice down, as the Bokoblins hadn’t yet detected either of you. Your question was met with a smug smirk that stretched the edges of his beak.

“I am rather exhausted from this awful heat, and I’d rather let you do the honors, seeing as you seem to be quite determined in getting to the city in the first place.” You couldn’t believe his words. Revali was many things, but lazy was something you could have never expected. There was the possibility that he was telling the truth, but the pompous grin on his face made you doubt this. However, he was right in saying that defeating a few Bokoblins was no difficult task.

“Fine,” You spat and tossed the bag of supplies at him before grabbing your bow, a part of you regretting the decision to ask him to come with you in the first place. “I really hate you, you know?” Revali held the bag and took a few steps back, the smirk never fading from his face.

“The feeling is mutual.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned away from him, your eyes gluing themselves on your target. The Bokoblins were in a nice little pile, so taking them out would be easy. However, you could feel Revali’s judging eyes boring into your back, watching your every move. At this point, you thought that he may have abstained from helping you just to see how you would do with the bow and then possibly mock you for an incorrect technique only he could see.

You shook the thought away. Now was not the time to worry about Revali’s judgment. Your only task was to bring the supplies to Mipha and not pay attention to his foolishness. Still, in the back of your mind, some part of you wanted to impress him for whatever reason, so you attempted to take all of the Bokoblins out at once.

Revali watched as you prepared for your attack, that arrogant smirk still apparent. His eyes watched as you gripped the bow, how you tested the string and how you finally grabbed an arrow from your quiver and-

Suddenly, his expression changed to a panicked one as his widened eyes noticed the grave mistake you had made that took the form of the arrow you had chosen: A bright red, sizzling bomb arrow.

Revali quickly jumped into the air and grabbed the back of your shirt with his talons, pulling you away from the massive explosion caused by the arrow and the surrounding air. Your eyes widened at the blast, and you instinctively shielded yourself with your arms as you were pulled back before feeling your back slam against an armored chest.

The Rito stumbled back and fell to the rocky ground, softening your fall by having you land on his chest. The sound rang in your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them once you couldn’t feel the heat of the flames any longer. You blinked and looked at your burned bow that laid on the ground, the Bokoblins fleeing the sight, frightened by the loud noise. It had all happened so fast, you only realized your mistake when Revali opened his beak:

“Are you out of your mind?!” He yelled behind you, voice filled with anger and concern. “You could have gotten both of us killed! How could you possibly think using a bomb arrow at a place like this was a good idea?!” You slowly stood up, still shaken by the accident.

“Are you truly that foolish? That you don’t know that a bomb arrow will explode as soon as it makes contact with the hot air?”

Of course you knew. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even realized that you had grabbed a bomb arrow and now you were scolded by your stupid mistake. Your eyes found the ground below you, embarrassment settling in your stomach. “I’m sorry... I just... I didn’t even realize,” You said, trying to somehow explain your actions, though you were more taken aback by his reaction. You had never heard him use his voice in such a manner.

A sigh left Revali’s beak as he tried to calm himself down. Truthfully, he didn’t fully know why he reacted in such a fiery manner.

“You’re hurt,” he finally said. You looked up at him and saw his eyes glued to your arm. Then you felt the burning pain on it. A significant piece of fabric from your sleeve was burned, the jagged hole revealing your reddened skin that sent waves of pain and discomfort throughout the rest of your arm. You hissed in pain and grabbed the abused area with your other hand.

You noticed Revali grabbing something from a bag of his own and motioning you to sit on a rock conveniently placed on the side of the road. You took his offer and sat down, fighting back tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. You glanced at Revali, who carried a white, jiggly blob of... something in his wing while walking towards you.

“What is that?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the unknown substance.

“White Chuchu jelly.” Revali kneeled beside you, expression neutral, rid of any signs of arrogance or judgment. “It should help with the burn,” he stated, pressing the jelly on the surface of your arm, the cool temperature of it immediately easing your pain. You let out a shaky breath.

“Why do you even have that?” You were unable to look at him, something inside you making your stomach churn. You felt his wings wrapping a bandage around your arm, the jelly staying on your skin.

“Well, I would have used it to cool myself off, but it appears that you need it more than I do after that ridiculous stunt you pulled.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“I said I didn’t realize what I was doing I just-”

“Didn’t pay attention,” he interrupted. You were about to argue but after realizing that he was correct, you let out a heavy sigh instead. Revali finished wrapping your wound and stood up, briefly glancing at your destroyed bow.

“What a waste,” he sighed, walking back to the bags, relieved to see the supplies still intact. You stood up, looking at your bandaged arm and then at him. Despite his somewhat rude and cocky exterior, he apparently cared about you enough to at least tend to your wound when he technically didn’t need to. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Revali.”

The Rito briefly stopped what he was doing, likely processing your words. You couldn’t see his face, so his expression was left a mystery. He on the other hand was grateful you didn’t witness the feathers on his face puff up ever so slightly. The accident startled him more than he would have liked to admit and was grateful that he was able to pull you out in time.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he finally said, regaining his usual attitude. He stood up and picked both bags up from the ground.

“We haven’t reached our destination yet and I clearly misjudged your abilities, who knows what ridiculous mistake you might make next.” For the first time, you let out a tiny laugh at his words, following him as he began walking.

“Well, I guess asking for your assistance in this little task of mine wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.”

Revali chuckled and shook his head at your words, his usual arrogance embedded in his response:

“Oh, (Name).” His glimmering eyes glanced at you, smirk once again decorating his features.

“What would you do without me?”

#loz #botw #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda breath of the wild #loz botw #botw revali #loz revali #revali #loz botw revali #breath of the wild revali #revali x reader #loz revali x reader #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #legend of zelda revali x reader #revali x you #reader insert

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jeminy3 · 5 years ago

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A Kingdom of Isolation. (NaruMitsu Frozen AU Snippet + Outline)

Next to the Titanic AU, I also attempted this one during late 2019 after seeing Frozen 2 in theaters and getting a lot of ideas about Edgeworth as Elsa and the flaws of the first Frozen film. Once again, this was fun to work on while dealing with life at the time, but after spending so much time and energy just building a believable setting and plot, I no longer have the energy or interest to properly write this.

The following is a summary of chapter 1 and the snippet for the end of the chapter.

Read the rest on AO3

Read the rest on Google Docs.

Click here for old art of this AU and the ideas I had.

+This is the end of what would have been the first chapter. Phoenix was the prosecutor of 1-1 with Franziska as co-counsel, who whipped and berated him the whole time for being bad at his job, which he is, losing handily to Mia and Maya on defense. After talking to them in the lobby, accepting defeat with grace because Larry is Larry after all, he is whipped again and eventually sent home to the Von Karma/Edgeworth Law Firm, punished with mindless paperwork for the rest of the week. Phoenix grabs lunch at Eldoon’s and is reminded of the white streak in his hair and scar on his head, which he thinks is from an accident 15 years ago. Then he goes home, mulling about his life and what’s led him to this point.

+His memories include parallels to “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” wherein he attempted to get Miles out of his room with offers like “do you want to build snowdogs,” “do you want to help me study,” and now this part:

-Phoenix arrives at the law firm, puts his leftovers in the break room fridge, goes to his desk and begins doing paperwork. He gets bored enough to have a dumb idea, and heads down the hall to Miles’ office, and once again tries to connect with him.

He knocks on the door. “Edgeworth?”

No response.

“I know you’re in there… you always are. Um… Do you… want to help me build some case files? For practice, y’know.”

Silence. Despite knowing better, stupidly, Phoenix continues.

"I had my first trial today, by the way! I lost, of course, but I mean- Larry was the defendant, so he was innocent anyway. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. You know how he is. If something smells...”

Still no response. Phoenix clears his throat awkwardly.

“Y- You know I was never great at prosecuting. So I mean, of course this would happen. I’ve told Von Karma SO many times, but you know him. ‘Defense is the WEAK side of justice. Prosecution is the ONLY way.’” He dips his voice into a nasally, gravel-like tone to mock their mutual mentor. The effort makes him laugh, between the ridiculousness of it and the way it tickles his throat.

Suddenly Phoenix hears shuffling, and the soft sound of footsteps approaching the door. They’re the same heavy footfalls that usually preceded Edgeworth opening the door for a crack wide enough to peer at Phoenix with one cold, grey eye and tell him to leave, he’s very busy. Again. As always.

Phoenix swallows, and decides to jump to that possibility first. “Now, before you come yell at me to go away again, I just want to say-”

The footsteps stop, suddenly. (Huh. That actually worked. Now what?)

Phoenix swallows again, feeling a chance to release at least a little bit of the heavy, choking weight in his chest.

“Um. I… I know you don’t like me anymore. And I don’t blame you, y’know, I’m… impatient, and reckless, and- I can barely pay attention to textbooks, so I just kind of wing everything, and I know that’s really annoying to you, since you take your work so seriously all the time- And like I said, I’m really bad at prosecuting, I don’t know why anyone bothers with me honestly, or what anyone expected today…”

His voice grows watery as he goes on, and he decides he’s letting out a bit too much, so he stops. He’s also noticed the footsteps coming closer, but much quieter now. And he can see the shadow of a figure in the foggy, frosted glass of the door’s window. It draws close, but makes no move to open the door.

“...Miles?” Phoenix dares to whisper.

He thinks he hears a muffled sigh, and the figure’s head bows, coming to rest against the glass in a circle of pressed hair and skin.

Something flutters inside Phoenix – it’s the closest he’s ever been to seeing Edgeworth's face again in years. He feels the need to also lean forward, bow his chin and rest his forehead against the glass, near Miles’ own.

“I… I miss you,” he says quietly. “We used to be really close when we were kids, and… I just... I miss it.”

“So do I,” the voice of Miles Edgeworth finally says, quietly, through the door – not only responding, but recognizing the pain and distance between them.

Phoenix squeezes his eyes shut, forces back the tears welling up as best he can. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out.

“Don’t be, Wright, it’s not…” Miles stops, then sighs again. “Just- Stop selling yourself short. You’re certainly not the worst prosecutor I’ve seen.”

Phoenix snorts a little. “Well, I guess that’s better than nothing.”

Edgeworth makes a quiet breathing sound that must be him laughing under his breath. “I don’t hate you, Wright. I never did. It’s just... “

Phoenix, feeling the weight of fifteen years pressing down between them, makes an educated guess.

“...It’s our parents, isn’t it?”

“...Yes,” Edgeworth eventually says with a deflating sigh, his breath fogging the window glass further. “The case never was solved… technically, it’s still open. The statute runs out in only a week... Then it’ll be off the records completely.”

Phoenix startles a little, lifting his head. “...You’ve looked at the case files?”

“I have,” Edgeworth says. “Here and there, over the years. I don’t know why, I never find anything new, and it only feels worse. I just…”

“...You want closure,” Phoenix finishes.

“...Yes.”

“So do I.”

Silence falls, heavy with the pain of wounds that never fully healed, questions that were never answered. Phoenix breathes, closes his eyes, remembers the way his mother crinkled her eyes when she smiled, the warmth of Gregory’s laughter. He lets the memory hurt him, just a little, before pushing it away and climbing up through the waves of grief before they wash him away again. He has a bold, potentially stupid idea.

“Maybe… we could look at the files again? Together? See if we can… I dunno, find something...?” (This is a terrible idea…)

Edgeworth chuckles again, louder, as its clearly audible through the door. “And how would that be helpful when I’ve failed to find anything new or substantial in all these years on my own?”

(Good question…) “Uh… I don’t know, honestly,” Phoenix says. “But- they always say, two heads are better than one! At the very least, it’s worth a shot before the statute runs out.”

Edgeworth hums softly on the other side of the door, and his head finally moves from the glass. His silhouette shifts on its feet before he speaks again. “Actually… I just might take you up on that, Wright.”

(Wait, really?!) “Wh- Really?”

“Maybe,” Edgeworth replies, “After the inheritance ceremony, of course, and if I can make time from the case I’m working on.”

“Uh- y-yeah, of course! Any time! That you’re free, that is. Uh- shoot, I’ll have to make some time too, but- Yeah, yeah, let’s try it!”

Edgeworth lets out another small, muffled laugh on the other side of the door, and Phoenix is only glad to hear it. “Someone’s certainly excitable… You never change, Wright.”

Phoenix scratches at his neck, finding himself flushing there. “Aw, well…” He wants to say, Well, you’ve changed too much, but considering the small miracle he’s achieved just now, the thought is quickly pushed aside.

“Well,” Phoenix starts again, his heart pounding in his ears, “I’ll uh, see you later then?”

“Later, yes,” Edgeworth says, with just enough hints of warmth and giddy awkwardness that Phoenix can believe he’s just as excited about this too, and no words can encapsulate just how incredible it is that this is happening – well, going to happen. Hopefully.

It’s more hope than Phoenix has allowed himself to feel for a long time, so he takes it in both hands and grasps it more tightly than anything else in his life. Spending time with Miles, just seeing him again, is worth that much and more.

After bidding him goodbye and goodnight, Phoenix could almost skip down the office halls, he’s so excited.

–

On the other side of his office door, Miles Edgeworth listens to Phoenix’s fading footsteps and sighs to himself, a hand on his door’s window.

He studies himself and his surroundings – all over the skin of his hand, and the furnishings of his office, is a layer of sparkling ice and frost, glittering with a strange, ethereal light.

He closes his eyes and concentrates, calming the small storm of emotions the recent conversation had awakened within him. In response, the unnatural ice around him begins to recede, vanishing with tiny crackles of sound, not a drop of water left behind, until its reduced to a small halo of white around him.

He looks at his surroundings again, somewhat satisfied, mostly forlorn. He bows his head, studies the now-bare skin of his knuckles.

“I’m so tired of hiding,” he says quietly, to himself. “...And if anyone deserves the truth, it’s you, Phoenix.”

#narumitsu #wrightworth #frozen au #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #jeminy writes

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minijenn · 5 years ago

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A Whole Mess of Unused Keys To The Kingdom Content

Because sometimes when I’m working on Keys, I get overzealous and write scenes that don’t contribute anything so I decide to cut them out or change them to make the flow better. So here’s a bunch of unfinished scenes from the first third of the fic (since we just passed the first third of it, I’m sure I’ll make a follow up to this once we get 2/3s done with it). Make of these what you will, I’ll try my best to explain why they were cut as we go along:

From Chapter 7; I largely cut this bit when I remembered Kairi would actually know who Aerith is because of KH1, but of course I didn’t remember that until AFTER I wrote this scene out, either way its a pleasant interaction between the two, I think, even if I cut it because it makes no sense in terms of what actually happened in past games (I also had to straight up screencap this one bc its on word and my use of word expired so it won’t let me straight up copy stuff anymore lol):

From Ch. 17; I originally wanted the Moana chapters to sort of carry all of the same songs as the movie did? And for the most part they do, what with Your Welcome and Know Who You Are and stuff like that but when I got to Tamatoa, I realized that the Shiny scene just wasn’t working as a musical number, hence I rewrote the whole thing and cut all this out:

“Because if you are… I will gladly do so. In song form!”

Sora and Moana only had the briefest chance to look to each other, absolutely confused before Tamatoa launched into said song, one that was filled with nothing but all the self-adulation the crab could possibly give. Which, of course, was quite a lot.

“Well, Tamatoa hasn’t always been this glam.

I was a drab little crab once.

Now I know I can be happy as a clam,

Because I’m beautiful, baby!”

To show off said beauty, Tamatoa began to spin around his cavern, allowing the mass of treasure he’d collected to glisten off its walls as he continued to latch onto his captive pair all the while.

“Did your granny say listen to your heart?

Be who you are on the inside?

I need three words to tear her argument apart:

Your granny LIED!

I’d rather be shiny!

Like a treasure from a sunken pirate wreck,

Scrub the deck,

And make it look shiny!

I will sparkle like a wealthy woman’s neck--

Just a sec-”

Tamatoa’ already wide grin grew as he glance up at the pool of water hanging above his head, one that was filled with a swarming school of fish just waiting to be devoured.

“Dontcha know--

Fish are dumb, dumb, dumb,

They chase anything that glitters!

Beginners!

Oh, and here they come, come, come,

To the brightest thing that glitters!”

The giant crab opened his maw wide as the fish swam down toward him, attracted by his glistening glow as they fell directly into his waiting mouth.

“Mm, fish dinners!

I just love free food,

And you look like seafood…”

From Ch. 22; I’m surprised the longest chapter of Keys so far doesn’t have more cut content but I had started writing this bit before realizing that it would have been redundant. I wanted this information to be explained to Sora and the reader at the same time to give it more potency and emotional weight, hence why I cut this out (also cut it out to give more flow following the scene between Kairi and Axel near the beginning of the chapter that this would have immediately been after):

Despite this reassuring thought, the mood the pair was met with upon venturing back into the house was anything but based on the first thing they heard upon entering. “What do you mean there’s nothing more you can do for him?!” Donald asked, both him and Goofy looking to Aerith for answers.

For her part, Aerith still remained as calm as she had been before, though she did let out a small, sad sigh, stealing a glance back at Sora as he lay, still unconscious, on the makeshift cot behind her. “I’ve healed just about all of his wounds, but… to be honest, there weren’t even that many of them,” she began to explain. “The problem is that he was poisoned. Heavily poisoned at that.”

“So? Can’t ya just get rid of the poison using some sort of spell?” Yuffie asked.

Aerith shook her head. “I tried that, several different spells in fact, but… none of them worked. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Whatever kind of magic Maleficent created it from must have been very powerful and very devastating, but… she definitely knew what she was doing when she cast it on him. It’s like she gave him just enough to incapacitate him completely. Any more than what’s already flowing through his blood stream would have-” She stopped short as she happened to glance over Kairi’s way, a brief spark of dread flashing through her expression before she put a hasty end to her explanation. “Um… n-never mind.”

From Ch. 26; the longest cut scene so far, pretty much a song-less version of I’ve Got a Dream (which I happen to be listening to while posting this, oh the irony); It’s a cute, fun little scene but it ultimately adds nothing to either the Tangled side of things or the original Keys side of things. In fact it kind of ruined the entire chapter’s pacing as a whole (I didn’t cut this out until the chapter was done as a matter of fact). Anyway here it is, because I still like it but again, it brought the chapter crawling to a huge grinding halt and I didn’t want that:

“But more might show up,” Sora pointed out. “It’s hard to tell when they might-”

“Yep, exactly,” Flynn interjected hastily. “Which is why maybe we should get out of the woods for a bit. Just to wait ‘em out. Is anyone hungry? I know a great place for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Sora raised a curious eyebrow at this. “I thought you wanted to get to the kingdom as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t do that on an empty stomach,” Flynn urged the others to follow him. “Now come on. You’ll know the place when you smell it.”

***

The place Flynn led the group to was rather underwhelming compared to how he’d described it: a squat, rather misshapen building that certainly looked its age based on the withering wood it was built from. It was practically propped up against the overgrown tree it stood in the shadows of, casting the entire restaurant in a rather shady light.

“Aaaaand here we are!” Flynn grinned in satisfaction as he began making his way down the path that led to the diner. “The Snuggly Duckling. Don’t worry, very quaint place, perfect for you, blondie. Don’t want you scaring again and giving up on this whole endeavor now, do we?”

“Well… I do like ducklings,” Rapunzel shrugged with an oblivious smile.

“Yay!” Flynn returned her bright grin almost mockingly.

“So, what makes this place so ‘great’ anyway?” Sora asked, curiously.

“Oh, you’ll see…” Flynn said, an air of mystery even as he threw the restaurant's door open. “Garcon! Your finest table, please!”

Rapunzel couldn’t hold back a terrified gasp upon getting her first glimpse at the other patrons of the restaurant. If there were any men who fit the description of “ruffians and thugs” perfectly, then they were all right at home in this restaurant, or tavern, to be more precise. The dingy dining room was packed with all manner of big, burly men, a vast majority of whom were scarred, unwashed, or weapon-wielding as they all turned their intimidating glares toward the group that had just stepped through the door. Rapunzel didn’t hesitate to lift her frying pan up in self defense and likewise, the trio was somewhat on edge as well, only barely hesitating to summon their weapons since none of the thugs had really made a move to attack them. Even so, they didn’t really rule out the option that they might based on the threatening manner they all mutually carried.

“You smell that?” Flynn was still grinning as he began to guide Rapunzel onward into the tavern, despite the fact that she was clearly terrified by the frightening assemblage around her. “Take a deep breath through the nose. Really let that seep in. What are you guys getting? To me, it’s part man-smell, and the other part is really bad man-smell. I don’t know why, but overall it smells like the color brown. Your thoughts, sunshine?” he asked Rapunzel, who let out a horrified gasp as one of the thugs suddenly grabbed her hair.

“That’s a lot of hair…” the thug noted, even as Rapunzel hastily pulled it away from him so she could flee.

“She’s growing it out,” Flynn remarked. “Say, is that blood in your mustache? Blondie, look at all the blood in his mustache!”

“Hey, Flynn?” Sora interjected, his expression aptly suspicious in light of the circumstances. “What’s the big idea here?”

“Why, I have no idea what you mean, kid,” Flynn rebuffed, feigning innocence. “I just wanted to give blondie a taste of a real five star establishment here.”

“This is what you call five-star?” Donald asked dubiously.

“...More or less.”

“I dunno… Rapunzel looks awfully scared... “ Goofy frowned, glancing over at Rapunzel, who had essentially backed herself into a corner, her hair bundled up in her arms and her frying pan still held at the ready to attack.

“Well, hey, you know, if that’s the case, then maybe we should just take her home and call it a day,” Flynn shrugged apathetically. “She’d probably be better off anyway. If she can’t handle this place, then maybe she should just go back to her tower.”

Despite his smooth, convincing grin, the trio only offered him a shared, disapproving glance at this, none of them on board with his plan to coax Rapunzel back into the sheltered, stifled life she’d known before. Still, Flynn didn’t get much of a chance to sway them otherwise as one of the larger thugs suddenly spun him around roughly to face him.

“Is this you?” the thug asked, pointing to the wanted poster in his hand that sure enough, depicted Flynn Rider.

“Uh… n-no?” Flynn shrugged, hoping the man would somehow believe him.

“Oh, it’s him alright,” another thug, one with a hoof in the place of one of his hands, spoke up with a greedy grin. “You!” he pointed to another nearby ruffian. “Go get some guards. And as for you,” the thug used his hook to pull Flynn in by the collar of his shirt. “That reward is gonna buy me a new hook.”

“I could use the money,” another thug stepped in, grabbing Flynn roughly before another one did the same.

“What about me? I’m broke!”

“No, that reward is mine!”

“But I want it!”

From there, an all out brawl began to break out between the thugs, with each of them clamoring to apprehend Flynn so they could claim the hefty prize that came along with his capture. Rapunzel and the trio were aptly startled by this sudden, violent shift, and even though they were greatly outnumbered, they all rushed in to try to put a stop to it.

“R-ruffians! Please, stop!” Rapunzel cried anxiously.

“Yeah! Leave him alone!” Sora shouted, finally calling upon his Keyblade. Donald and Goofy gaped at this, both of them realizing that Sora was more than likely to get himself into an unnecessary scuffle in doing so, but that hardly seemed to matter to him as he joined Rapunzel in trying to pick through the burly crowd Flynn was struggling to escape.

The hook-handed thug was just about posed to land a heavy blow to Flynn’s jaw to cease that struggle when Rapunzel finally put a stark end to the aggressive outburst. All it took was using her hair as a whip to land a sharp, yet effective blow to said thug’s bald head, to get everyone to freeze in surprise at just how bold this unassuming girl seemed to be.

“Put him down!” Rapunzel ordered fiercely, catching an ire-filled glare from the thug in the process. She gasped, afraid as the thug began to approach her, pulling out the axe hanging from his back as he did. Fortunately for her though, Sora hurried in to her defense just in time.

“Back off!” he warned, brandishing his Keyblade against the much-larger thug’s weapon.

“Tch, what are you gonna do with a key that fancy, kid?” the thug sneered. “Unlock the world’s biggest door?”

“Oh, believe me, you don’t wanna see what I can really do with it,” Sora retorted, more than ready to use it to keep both Rapunzel and Flynn safe.

“Sora-” Donald and Goofy tried to mutually protest, though it didn’t really do much good as the thug inched his axe in closer.

“Try me,” he growled coldly.

“W-wait!” Rapunzel interrupted from her spot behind Sora, not wanting to see any additional fighting break out. “L-listen, “ she pleaded with the hook-handed thug. “I don’t know where I am, and I need him,” she pointed her frying pan at Flynn, who was still being held aloft by the rest of the thugs. “To take me to see the lanterns because I’ve been dreaming about seeing them my entire life! Find your humanity! Haven’t any of you ever had a dream?!”

The thug said nothing to this at first, his expression still just as stoic as dense silence filled the bar. That is, until that stoicism finally wavered into a softer, wistful expression. “I… had a dream once…” With this, he tossed his axe aside, and as it struck one of the bar’s already weapon-ridden walls, he headed over to the piano on stage and began to play a surprisingly jaunty, upbeat tune. “I’ve always yearned to be a concert pianist!”

At this, the other thugs in the pub began to ease up a bit as well as a few of them started voicing their own hopes and dreams. “I really want to make a love connection!” a rather large-nosed ruffian proclaimed with a romantic gleam in his eyes.

“I want to quit and be a florist!” another thug cried as he quickly began fashioning a surprisingly lovely floral arrangement.

“Interior design!” a ruffian remarked with a flippant flair as he expertly rearranged a small corner of the pub.

“Ulf here is into mine,” a thug pointed out his companion, who sure enough was playfully miming next to where Flynn was sullenly hanging as he watched this ridiculous display play out. Even so, Rapunzel was instantly charmed by it, and likewise, the trio eased up, confused yet curious to see where this bizarre and wholesome scene might be going.

“You have to try Attila’s cupcakes, they’re sublime!”

“I knit!”

“I sew!”

“I do little puppet shows!”

“And Vladimir collects ceramic unicorns!”

“What about you?” the hook handed man asked Flynn with a suspicious glare.

“I’m sorry, me?” Flynn scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“What’s your dream?” the big-nosed thug pulled him down off the hook he was hanging from.

“No, no, boys,” he rebuffed with a laugh. “I’m not into the whole sappy dream thing.” He quickly changed his tune however, as just about all of the thugs pointed their deadly weapons right at him threateningly. “Ah-ha… o-ok, well… I-I’d like to be filthy rich and live on my own private island faaaar away from anyone else. Does that work for you fellas, or what?”

The thugs let out a rowdy shout, catching Flynn off guard once more as they all threw him up into the air once more. At the same time, Rapunzel climbed up onto one of the tables, more than eager to voice her own life-long desire as well. “I’ve got a dream too!” she announced brightly, all of the thugs turning to her to hear it. “I want to see the floating lanterns! You know, today’s the first time I’ve ever left my tower, but I’m so glad I did after everything I’ve seen and all of the lovely people I’ve met like all of you!” The thugs all let out a solid cheer of support at this as Rapunzel grinned down at the trio standing on the ground next to her. “What about you guys?” she asked them curiously. “Do you have a dream too?”

“Oh, uh…” Sora hesitated, facing sudden scrutiny from both the thugs and from Donald, who was sending him the unspoken order to maintain the world order in his answer. “W-we… we want to find a special Key and use it and a bunch of others to help our friends!” he proclaimed, knowing that was a very simplified version of the whole story, but fortunately, it was enough to satisfy his companions and the pug thugs alike.

“So you see?” Rapunzel turned back to the thugs, still maintaining her warm grin. “We’re all not so different after all! We all have dreams we want to see come true someday!”

The thugs and ruffians all let out another round of cheers at this, their excitement palpable in the aftermath of everyone sharing those dreams. The levity wasn’t able to last too long, however, as the tavern door burst open to reveal the thug that had been sent off just a while ago. “I’ve found the guards!” he announced, sending a startled ripple through the entire pub.

Even so, Flynn wasted no time in grabbing Rapunzel and the trio alike at this, pulling them all out of sight as a handful of armored soldiers stormed in. “Where’s Rider?!” the captain demanded. “Where is he?! I know he’s in here somewhere. Find him! Turn the place upside down if you have to!”

The captain only barely missed spotting the group hiding under the bar, not really having anywhere else to go, especially as even more guards filed in. Flynn narrowly peaked over the edge of the bar to see that they weren’t the only ones either, as he just so happened to spot them toting in his now-arrested former partners in crime: the Stabbington Brothers. Former, in the sense that he’d been the one to abandon them with the prize they’d stolen together, not only to escape the guards but that first round of marauding Heartless alike.

Yet despite Flynn’s apt panic at such a daunting situation, the entire group was caught off guard by the hook handed thug. He said nothing as he joined them behind the bar, instead nodding for the group to silently follow him over to the far side of it. From there, with the flick of a single inconspicuous switch, a secret door opened up, revealing a passageway down into a cavern that led out of the pub completely. Just about the best means of escape they were going to get, all things considered.

“Go,” the thug whispered with a warm smile. “Live your dreams.”

“I will,” Flynn replied, immensely relieved.

“Your dream stinks,” the thug scowled. “I was talking to them,” he nodded to Rapunzel and the trio. Flynn simply carried an annoyed scowl as he began to crawl into the passageway.

“Thanks for everything,” Rapunzel said, the trio offering the same grateful sentiments as they also began to make their way into the cavern. They did so just in time as the hook-handed thug closed the door to the passage way up, concealing it from sight right before the guards began to search behind the bar, only to find not a single sign of Flynn Rider, or anyone else for that matter, to speak of.

From Ch. 27: aka the chapter I’m currently working on. Idk Tangled has a lot of scenes that went unused in KH3′s take on things and I figured this one would be necessary to explain why Rapunzel and Eugene got separated but I only ended up writing a paragraph or so of it last night before deciding I wanted to shift focus back over to the trio instead at that point. So here it is:

“Ah! There you are!” Eugene greeted the Stabbington Brothers with a show of faux camaraderie, knowing he was just about the last person they probably wanted to see in light of his earlier betrayal. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you guys since we got separated. The sideburns are coming in nice, huh?” The brothers simply eyed him harshly at this, silently telling him to get the point already. “A-anyhow, I just wanted to say that I shouldn’t have split. The crown is all yours.” He tossed the satchel their way, the crown spilling out of it as it landed. “I’ll miss you, but I think it’s for the… best...”

He trailed off as one of the brothers stood to approach him, hardly paying any mind to the crown as he did. “Holding out on us again, eh, Rider?”

#jen writes #keys to the kingdom #keys unused #unused writing

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mother-snake · 5 years ago

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promised story 1-

(this one is an origional and first chapter to a book im going over at the minuet, any constructive critisism would be nice and anything you liked about or didnt like would be good for me so i can perhapse change certain things in future!) -if you guys like it enough i might post the other chapters as i work along them. and if youd like, i can tagg you in!-

UNLOCKED: kurbose words: 3641 warnings: small fight thing happens at begining.

chapter 2- n/a

chapter 1 -I will eat this sandwich; fate just has other plans.

At least crows don’t judge people for doing the bizarre things they do, I suppose. For example; the fact that I was sitting down on top of the rather worn-down churches roof that lay in the dead centre of the village, slowly turning into a town. Very slowly... I’d blame me getting up here on my habit of using my, not so useful, skill of getting into trouble; but in all honesty that excuse’ became unreliable since the tenth time I’d deliberately made my way up here. Not that I minded much.

Ten or so crows were lined on either side of me cawing loudly at one another trying to get closer, hoping that they could snag some of the sandwich I was eating. It had been wrapped up and stayed in my pocket since the morning. I had always left then in the early hours and barely came back until nightfall. the murder was slowly becoming more and more agitated as they looked at the sandwich with a keen eye.

lunch I had to skip due to them… I don’t mean the birds of course. not the birds. Never. Ever. blame the birds.

the night air was always calming. The stars seemed to look down upon me with a curious gaze, as if asking why I was still in the melancholy village. Living in such a boring place for years. sometimes it felt like hundreds of eyes were on me. that’s why I always sat on top of the roof. And when I did, I couldn’t help but feel a form of freedom I couldn’t get anywhere else. Mayhaps that was because I wasn’t supposed to be up there in the first place. Alas. We shall never know.

sure, some people would enjoy the normal life. Not worrying about what would be around the corner. But I I’m not like that, when it’s all you know. You’d wish for something to change.

I surveyed the area in my line of vision. It was slowly becoming dark enough that everything was blending together. But I could still see the outlines of everything. the sound of the canal that split the village up in sections was only a couple streets away.

I could recognise some of the people lined up by their houses getting the final things ready. And those who were wondering the streets were making their ways home. it was fairly easy to remember everyone in the town. No one really moved here, and if they did, they would mostly stay till they were old and grey.

One of the many people I could see from where I was is Miss hazel. I could see her picking some of the herbs and flowers for her medicines and potions. She was our physician much to many traveller’s surprise.

Then there was Mr. jackal who was sitting on his doorstep. A small wooden pipe in hand, a faint smoke ring coming from the pipe. Sometimes I felt that I’d never seen him going anywhere without it.

The brother and sister, Lawrence and Catherine were running after one another, up and down the street below. They were five and seven. Catherine being the eldest. She was very much a saint in many eyes. Learning how to climb into small places for things we had lost.

Her brother Lawrence had been practicing magic as far as anyone knew. He was getting better as the year continued to pass. He had started in early spring and not seemed to have stopped since. He had a wizard’s soul, that’s for sure. Only one in thousands seemed to appear.

Mrs. Evelyn was looking around the streets from one of her windows waving down to everyone, looking up and spotting me, I gave a quick wave back. I couldn’t hear her but I could tell she was laughing as a crow hopped up onto my lap and stole a slither of meat from my sandwich.

Sometimes it was nice to see a familiar face, but when you know practically everyone who walks the street daily. It can get rather boring, their conversations tended to repeat with nothing interesting happening most of the time.

I was cut from my thoughts by an annoyingly familiar clink of something hitting the roof grabbed my attention. I quickly wrapped my sandwich back in its paper bag and placed it into my cardigans pocket. I turned my attention to the gutter, a small sharp stone that hadn’t been there before laid on top of some moss.

The murder realising what was going to happen fluttered away in a frenzy, cawing in disarray. Not wanting to be caught in the stupidity that laid below me in the church garden.

Preparing myself as best as I could, I looked around and caught sight of the gargoyle sitting perched slightly off from where I was positioned. If I miss this, well… I either die or break my legs.

The gargoyle itself had a monstrous face, baring fanged teeth and its wings spread out, poised to strike. another rock landed near my position. deciding to take the risk, I pushed myself slightly in the direction of the beast. landing with a small thud behind it, I let out a breath. Two more stones were thrown in my direction, the sound of them rolling onto the gutter caused me to flinch.

They were too close. One thing I could say is that the people below were getting better at their aim and way of throwing.

There was a slight warmth coming from the gargoyle, they were in hibernation. They would remove the stone shell around them late into the spring most likely. But they were still aware of what was happing around them. “sorry Mr gargoyle, I hope you can forgive me for using you as a shield…again,” I muttered as I sat behind it. it was hard to keep myself completely hidden. My height being the main reason. Why on this planet did I have to be one of the tallest people. Why? What reason was there for someone to be over six feet? What reason was there?

A couple more stones landed on the roof. I grumbled to myself and peaked over the wing, trying my best to be as careful as possible.

A rock soared over my head causing me to duck slightly. A small part of me was proud. That was the closest they’d gotten in a long time. After all this had been a weekly routine for a while now. A bit inconvenient when trying to eat. But at least it kept my somewhat self-preservation skills usable.

A small cackle came from down below. I rolled my eyes. If only they were as smart as their egos. Their rich snobbish attitudes had been like this for years.

“is poor goliath too scared to come down?” Jonathan yelled; the noise being muffled by the distance. “sorry! It’s not my fault I’m allergic to social interaction” I hollered back; I peeked back over the wing, slightly thankful for the small heat it gave off the cold winter air biting my exposed skin. Wearing knee length shorts in winter is not advised for a reason. That’s the joy of being a dysfunctional mess such as myself.

Anyways, as I peeked over the first thing, I could see was his obnoxiously blonde hair, it was almost three shades close to white. I would have easily called it fake if it wasn’t for the fact that I hadn’t grown up with him. the blonde hair was held in a ponytail today.

My eyes also caught sight of the two figures standing either side of Jonathan. Both recognisable by the way they looked. the ginger on his left was always known for her seemingly endless collection of silk blue dresses. Each one would have cost my family a year’s worth of food.

Then the boy on his right was a lavante, he had been one of the few to move here. His species are known for the fact their basically living lava, skin ossified by the oxygen. His eyes were pools of red lava. His hair was like living fire. the older they got, the bluer their hair became.

He looked a bit conflicted to what they were doing. He always did. We were mutual friends. He gave a weak smile and waved. To be honest I forgot his name years ago… too late to ask now.

“you’ll come down eventually!” blue dress screeched as she readied to throw a stone in her hand.

“you underestimate my pettiness, I've got food in my pocket, I could stay up here longer that you could down there!" I yelled back; my pettiness was something barely anyone was able to match.

Seeing her pull her arm back to throw, I ducked myself behind the wing one more time. soon one after another, a barrage of rocks was being thrown my way. one sailed over my head; I could feel the air move as it ruffled my hair. It rolled down and landed by my foot. I picked it up and threw it back as possible.

I looked down to my other pocket. reaching in I pulled out a bronze pocket watch. The lid had long since came off, according to my dad it was the day he met my mother. I chuckled to myself as I remembered the story.

“what on earth do you think you’re doing?!” I sighed in relief as the voice of the father reached my ears; even if the malice in his voice sent small shivers down my spine.

Is wrath being something to fear. They could try anything they wanted. But as soon as the father got involved then they were very much screwed over.

I tuned out the shouting down below me, sitting in a better way that made my lanky legs sigh in relief. I looked into the gargoyles eyes and mouthed a quick thank you.

As the noise went silent, I looked over the wing to see them walking away out the garden and back to whence they came, a wave of ease flooded over me. At least I would be home in time. Hopefully.

I stood up, stretching and listening my bones crack as I did so. Clapping my hands together I turned around and climbed back onto the top of the roof struggling to get a grip as I did so. I shakily stood up, trying to balance myself in hopes I didn’t fall over.

I walked over to the edge of the building, I crouched down and grabbed the rope I had long ago tied to the building. holding on as tight as possible, knuckles going white in the process, I swung my body over the edge. The rope swayed from the motion. I wrapped my legs around the rope, hoping and praying I didn’t mess this up. taking a deep breath, I let slightly let loose of the rope. Gravity swiftly dragging me down, the rope slightly burning my skin in the process.

I quickly held onto the rope tighter as the ground came too close for comfort. it was that moment father Francis turned the corner. I gave a nervous chuckle as my body hung in the air. “what are you doing,” he groaned. “you know, just hanging around,” I responded, getting a smack on the back of the head causing me to spin slightly in the air.

Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I stood up and rubbed my hands on my shirt, getting rid of the small amounts of dust and mud that clung to them.

He began to walk away, waving for me to follow. I jogged to keep up as best as possible. He didn’t say much anymore. But he was one of the best people in my mind. before he had joined the church, he had been working in the north. He had been one of my inspirations growing up. the stories he told about dragons and monsters he had seen had filled m wonder and desire to see what was beyond here.

People would joke around that the reason he had grey hairs was because of me. I didn’t blame them really. “sorry about that father Francis… again…” I sighed as I averted my gaze. he let out a small chuckle and patted my back, “only a gentle giant like you could hie instead of bashing them in,” he gestured for me to begin moving, “only you goliath.” “why won’t you let that die?” I muttered. he let out another laugh. “I’ll walk you back to your home, make sure you dad knows that they were back again,” there were very few things that could make me shiver, but having my family know about this was one of them. “or, you don’t tell them?” he only gave a deadpanned look in response. I wasn’t getting out of it.

It withing a minuet we were out the garden and onto the streets. The greys and browns of the buildings seemingly blending together in the darkness. we walked in silence turning when needed. The sound of the canal getting closer. brass lamps were lined neatly on each side of the streets. Fireflies the size of a grown adult’s hand laid inside, buzzing away to one another. the people in their homes slowly turning of their lights in hopes of falling asleep. I’d never understood why it was always this time of night that they locked everything up. weather it was a habit or just a bizarre timing factor.

I reached up to my hair and pulled down the bobble keeping my hair up in a simple ponytail. My brown locks dropped down to my sides. I ran my hands through my hair grumbling. I stumbled for second after tripping on a rock. Barely stopping myself from tumbling over.

The darker and closer we got to my home; the more noises filled the air. Small neon bugs lit up houses and other buildings. Small mice with glowing whiskers would scuttle past us as quickly as possible. The vibrant colours would almost leave a blur in their trail, making them easy to spot in the dark.

Small groups of night birds flocked around piles of litter left by merchants that had been wandering the streets. Nibbling or defending pieces of food, or guarding small shiny things they found on the ground. Like children defending their own things.

So much happened in the night, so much happened and I only get to see a portion of the neon lights, I wished I could have seen more sometimes.

Soon we were out of the main village turning town and making our way down a mud and stone covered path towards the farm.

Soon enough, but not long enough to gather my thoughts and mentally prepare myself. we arrived at a metal gate surrounding what looked like a nearly collapsing house. I stepped forwards and opened the rusty gate, the hinges creaking with the movement. I had been needing to oil them for a while and had been putting it off for around two weeks now.

The house looked barely liveable. The roof looked both old and new in patches. the chimney looked cracked and ready to fall on the house. the porches roof looked close to caving in as well.

But sill it was home. I took a deep breath and made my way forward towards the door. Hoping with every fibre of my being they were all asleep by now for the sake of my sanity.

As I got closer, the porch light flickered before turning on completely and giving off a small hum. A small dread filling up. the light could only be turned on from the inside after all.

I quickly checked the time on the pocket watch. Oh… I was late. Not too late, but just enough that I was going to get chewed out at most.

The door swung open. A figure walked out and stood in the doorframe with an icy glare directed at me. “where have you been?” yeah, I wasn’t going to survive. the figure let out a sigh, “come in, you will have some explaining to do whilst Eric gets you both some tea.” “sorry for being late…again miles,” I chuckled as I rubbed the back of my neck.

He steppe bac and walked into the house. I let father Francis go in front of me as we made our way inside. I would have taken my shoes of if I had worn them today. I gave a small weak smile to Francis. If it were my dad that we had been greeted with he would have to only stay for five minutes. The twins on the other hand were another story… they had been like this for as long as I could remember. They had always been protective of me. I was sixteen. Yes, it was strange but the reason behind why they were so overprotective is a story for another time.

The entrance was small. Barely able to fit the three of us. Miles made his way up to the first couple steps on the staircase to give more room. I looked to the right; the lights were off witch was probably to save energy. I made my way into the left room. The fireplace warmed up the room, relaxing my body compared to the cold nipping air that was outside.

There was a figure identical to miles, the only difference being their hair partings. They had both their own unique skills, that was one other way to tell their differences.

The cardigan that I was wearing was knitted by Eric. It was at that moment I remembered what was in its pocket. I quickly reached down and pulled out a slightly squashed paper wrapped sandwich and sighed, putting it on the kitchen table that was one wrong move away from losing a leg.

The door at the back of the room shuttered. Looks like it was going to be a long night. the room was slightly crammed, but I didn’t mind that much.

Pulling out a chair and sitting down, I looked over to where the twins were arguing silently. miles had his parting on the left, the smaller part was cut off, it was the same for Eric except with his parting on the right. their hair was an inky black. they glanced over in my direction as I took a bite out of my crushed sandwich.

Red and green heterochromia. One eye green, the other a blood red.

“so, what are you two thinking about?” I said before taking another bite. “why we put up with your antics every day,” miles deadpanned at me. “you love me. That’s why,” I grinned as they sighed. “you’re ten minutes late Charlie, where have you been,” a voice forms the entrance. I looked up to see a scruffy looking man and grinned, “hey pops. And I think the pocket watch may be on the fritz again if that’s the case. It says I should be on time.” “either way, may I ask why the father is currently in our home? Again.”

“Jonathan and the other two again, I simply came to make sure she got home safely instead of running off.”

They began to talk, leaving me to my own devices. The sandwich that had only one or two more bites worth lay on the table. A half-drunk cup of tea next to it.

Standing up and cracking by back, I made my way past the gossips and made my way to the living room. The light now on as dumbass one and two sat on the floor with cards.

Falling on the sofa backwards, the two who were absorbed in their game gave a little squeak and flung back. I let out a chuckle and stared at them with a curious look as the grumbled curses and words that would put sailors to shame.

“so, what has caused you to grace us with your company?” “if you were in the room with those two gossips, you would leave after a while too.”

Eric laughed and reached his hand over to the small wooden table in the middle of the room. “shift over goliath,” Eric muttered pushing me up. I swung my legs from the arm of the sofa and crossed my legs as I felt a pair of hands running down my hair before getting caught in a knot.

“I swear your hair is worse than ours on a good day,” he groaned before he began to brush my hair. “you do know I could do this on my own, right?” I said. “yeah, but it’s not like I’ve got much else to do in the first place.”

It was another fifteen minutes before I heard the noise in the kitchen slowly rise into the room. the three of us looked between one another with concern. They hadn’t fought before as far as we knew.

“she can’t know!” the voice I could clearly tell was my dad yelled. “she needs to know sooner or later, the sooner the better.”

I stood up from the sofa and slipped into the hall and peaked my head into the room. I could see my father’s face, eyebrows knitted together and eyes glaring at the father. His knuckled white from gripping the cup.

“look, I get why you don’t want to. But all your doing is speeding up the inevitable.” “I know… I’ll tell her soon. I promise.”

I walked into the room and locked gaze with my dad, “or you could tell me now instead of hiding it.”

“how much did you hear,” his face paled. “enough.”

#three book project #my side of the bet pt 1 #ill try and get a fanfiction written for wednesday #otherwise it will most likely be chapter 2 #origional stroy #unlocked kurbose #charlie scarlet #miles scarlet #father francis #eric scarlet #origional charachters!#not the book im planning now #i hope you enjoy!

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katehuntington · 6 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part two) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part two: Jo picks up Y/N from the airport and doesn’t waste any time warning the intern for a notorious wrangler called Dean Winchester. When she arrives at Gold Canyon Ranch, she soon understands why. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Broken Halos’ - Chris Stapleton (car scene) and ‘No Good’ - Kaleo (saloon entry). (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

It stops raining just as suddenly as it started coming down, but the asphalt in front of the airport entrance still shimmers under the streetlights. Knowing that it's going to take at least forty-five minutes for her ride to arrive, Y/N treated herself to a cup of coffee from Starbucks, which she sips on while seated on her suitcase. Whenever a set of headlights approaches, she looks up hopefully, but up to now, all cars have passed by. With a bored sigh, she tucks her flat-ironed hair behind her ear and yawns, despite the caffeine she’s consuming. She checks her phone again. “Come on, already…”

When she looks up from the device, a black pickup pulls up to the curb. It triggers her to straighten her back and seek eye contact with the driver. As the car comes to a stop, a young woman has turned to look outside her downed passenger window. “Are you Y/N?” “Yes,” she responds a bit hesitantly as she rises. The driver grins and signals her to come closer. “Well, get in. I ain’t got all night!”

Y/N smiles back somewhat nervously, draws out the grip of her suitcase and rolls it to the side of the car. With difficulty, she manages to push the heavy load in the open cargo area, making sure not to scratch the paint or spill her coffee, after which she hastens to the passenger-door and gets in. Before she settles down, Jo picks up her ivory white cowboy hat from the seat and puts it down behind her, offering her passenger a place to sit. As she does so and closes the door, the driver holds out her hand. Y/N shakes it, surprised by the strength of the young woman’s grip. “Jo Singer,” she introduces herself. “Welcome on the Gold Canyon Ranch Express.”

While Jo steers the car back on the road, Y/N takes her in. She’s slender, not very tall, but the confidence she radiates makes up for that. She’s rocking the ripped jeans and western boots, a comfortable loosely knitted sweater covers the skin that her tank-top doesn’t. The young woman has plaited her hair in a messy braid which falls down from her left shoulder. With one hand at twelve o’clock on the wheel and the other casually hanging outside the door, she averts her focus from the road for a brief second, turning to her passenger.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait. Cattle just came in and Dad got a little caught up. He gets that way sometimes,” Jo apologizes as she lowers the volume of the radio. “That’s okay,” Y/N assures, holding up her coffee. “I had company.” “What is that, by the way? Do I smell cinnamon?” Jo eyes the coffee container as if it’s alien. “It’s a Cinnamon Dolce Latte,” Y/N states before taking a sip. “A what now?” Registering Jo’s expression, she sniggers. “Cinnamon, coffee, and milk, basically.” “Fancy.” The driver grins. “You’re from up north, right?” “Yeah. Freeport, Maine,” she elaborates. “It’s quite a change of scenery.” “I’ll bet,” the cowgirl behind the wheel reckons. “Ya’ll have pretty cold winters over there, huh?”

Curiously, the new girl looks over at Jo. The Southern charm in her voice is rich. Her accent has a lot more soul to it than the ones she picked up in the arrival hall and the coffee place back at the airport. Not even the local taxi drivers who were chatting as they waited for a ride sounded like Jo.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, answering the question after a beat. “Lots of snow too.” “You won’t ever be cold in Arizona, I can promise ya that, Yankee.” Y/N chuckles. “Yankee?” “That’s what us Southerners call Northerners,” she explains. “Better get used to it.” “I thought Arizona was considered the Southwest,” the intern says. Now it’s Jo’s turn to smirk, as she gives her a side-eye. “Aren’t you as smart as all get out? But you’re right. My folks are from the South. The ranch belonged to my grandpa back in the day. When he got too old to work the land, Mom and Dad moved in to help and took over when he passed. I was born and raised here in Gold Canyon, but what can I say? It’s hard to lose the slang when you’re around a bunch of Southerners.”

Jo continues to make small talk. Y/N doesn’t mind it, though. It’s nice to get to know the ranch owner’s daughter and at least there’s not an awkward silence dwelling in the old pickup. Easy conversation about the weather is soon traded for other subjects, like the ranch and the horses. “Dad mentioned you’re a reining rider. What level are ya?” Jo asks. “Debuted in Open a couple of months ago.”

She tries to stay modest, but a proud smile forms on Y/N’s lips anyway. Hours of practice and years of training have brought her to the highest level in reining sport. When the letter from the National Reining Horse Association came in to inform her of the promotion from Non-Pro to Open, she remembered being so excited that she ran through the house screaming high pitched and hugged her parents so tight, she almost suffocated them. It took hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, but she made it. It all paid off.

“Whoa, you must be pretty damn good then!” Jo responds, eyebrows raised, impressed. Y/N doesn’t really respond, not sure how to take the compliment. Instead, she looks down at the coffee container in her lap. “What about you?” “I’m not a reiner,” the cowgirl smiles. “I race barrel.”

Now, it’s Y/N’s turn to be fascinated. Surely, reining is an exciting discipline of horse riding, but barrel racing is a whole other ballgame. She always enjoys watching it at the rodeo. The speed, the acceleration, the tight corners around the barrels, beating the clock, every fraction of a second counting; it’s the definition of thrilling.

“What’s your PR?” she wonders. Jo looks at her sideways, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “16.1 seconds.” Y/N huffs, amazed. “That’s fast!” The ranch owner’s daughter shrugs it off. “I’ve got a very good horse.” “My grandfather taught me that a horse will never become extraordinary unless it’s matched with a skilled rider.” Jo smiles at those wise words and gazes at the road ahead.

The beams of the headlights reach out several yards in front of them. Everything beyond remains in the darkness of night. Although the rain stopped falling down on the dry and thirsty land, clouds still shield out the frail moon’s radiance. They left Metro Phoenix about ten minutes ago and Y/N can barely see what’s out there, but what she can see, captivates her. For a girl who has never been to the southwest of the US, it seems foreign, not from this planet even. A pair of tail lights glides down the straight two-lane freeway towards an invisible horizon, while a few lights on the mountains give an idea of the relief in the east. Dust, sand, and rocks alongside the road are all that she can make out, joined with tall cacti and small bushes every now and then. This is the first time she has seen a cactus in its natural habitat. She didn’t know they could grow that tall.

“You should stay away from those when you go on a trail, especially the little fluffy lookin’ ones,” Jo suggests, noticing her passenger’s amazement as she watches the cacti pass by. “There’s nothing fluffy about the damn things when you get too close. I’ve seen the most gentle and laid back horses go full bronc after running their ass into a ‘cholla’.” Y/N chuckles; she can imagine that happening. Appreciating the tip, she turns her attention back to the driver. “Any other good advice for my first day tomorrow?” She dares to ask, curious about what lies ahead. Jo smiles at her, appreciating her eagerness. The girl beside her isn’t the first rookie to ask her this. To her, it’s a sign of insecurity, one that comes along with the lack of experience.

“You didn’t do a lot of ranch work back in Maine, did ya?” she confronts. Out of balance, Y/N looks aside at the driver, then averts her gaze. The gentle expression on Jo’s face should tell her that she doesn’t intend to make her feel uncomfortable, but she can’t help herself from moving in her seat a little, lost for words. “How can you tell?” she replies shyly. “Your boots are too clean,” Jo grins, nodding at the intern’s feet.

Somewhat stunned, Y/N looks down at her shoes. Wanting to make a good impression, she polished the brown leather. Honestly, she spent more time cleaning them than she normally would before a show, but it might have been a better idea to leave them dirty. A blush warms her cheeks as she shakes her head slightly; apparently, she’s a little too eager to prove herself.

“You got me,” she admits. “You’re right, I lack experience when it comes to stable work. But I really want to learn.” Thankfully, Jo takes away the embarrassment and seems to appreciate her enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about it. We had workers who didn’t even know how to pick out a hoof, let alone ride a horse,” she reassures. “You’ll be fine. Keep your eyes and ears open, your head low and if there’s anything you need, you can always come to me.”

Slightly put to ease, Y/N smiles at her shiny boots. Jo is right; she will be okay. There is no need to be nervous about tomorrow, she’s not completely oblivious after all. And with the ranch owner’s daughter as her new ally, she feels confident enough to believe that she will manage just fine.

A moment of quietness follows as the young blonde takes the exit and directs the pickup onto Superstition Mountain Drive, leaving route 60 behind them. Soft music comes from the amplifiers, a country ballad bathing them in pleasant tunes. Despite her insecurities, Y/N feels comfortable with Jo by her side, and as she glances over at her, a future image of them becoming friends forms in her head. It doesn’t seem unlikely, not at all. Her wit, her confidence, the joy that she seems to have in everything she does; she can appreciate that.

“There is one other piece of good advice I’m gonna give ya,” Jo continues after a while. “And it’s very, very important that you stick to it.” Curious, Y/N waits for a follow-up, eager eyes on the blonde cowgirl in the driver’s seat who waits a couple more seconds, underlining the importance of her message. “Do not, under any circumstances, fall for Dean Winchester.”

A little underwhelmed, Y/N’s facial expression shifts from confused to amused. She scoffs, for a second thinking she’s joking. Jo’s dramatic build-up prepared for a line she was going to remember during the tough moments while staying at the ranch, so it’s a bit of a downer when it resulted in advice on men.

“Who’s Dean Winchester?” she asks, unimpressed. “He’s a wrangler at the ranch,” Jo enlightens her. “Also a shameless womanizer who has broken more hearts than I can count. That bastard lures gals into his bed like it’s a fucking competition. Or in the haystack, his truck, the restroom of the saloon. Whatever place he finds fit to hump somethin’.”

Y/N’s jaw drops, after which she covers her mouth to muffle her chuckle. And ten minutes ago they were talking about the weather. Well, that escalated quickly. “I’m serious,” Jo underlines, noticing the cynicism in her passenger’s laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not what I’m here for,” she assures the ranch owner’s daughter. “That’s what most of them say,” she returns, having heard this before.

For a second Y/N observes her co-driver as questions start to buzz around in her head. What are Jo’s motives? Might there be something more behind what seems like just good advice? “Did you…? Did you ever, you know…?” Insecurity overwhelms her once again, disabling her to form a proper sentence. A little confused, Jo looks over, but at the sight of Y/N’s raised eyebrow and a subtle smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, it suddenly dawns on her what she’s getting at. “What?! Oh, hell no!” She shudders in disgust. “Christ! He’s my cousin!”

Y/N eyes grow large when she realizes what she just implied, but then Jo snorts and they both burst out in laughter. How this conversation went from climate and desert flora to sex and men puzzles her completely, but she’s sure that she just gained a friend. When both of them can talk again after another convulsion of giggles, Y/N can’t help but wonder about this wrangler with a reputation.

“What’s so special about this Dean?” Jo wipes away tears that came running down her face in the uncontrollable laughing fit she endured. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She switches on the turning signal and turns left onto a long driveway. Fenced pastures stretch out on either side, running up towards the hills. Cows are chewing their roughage at the hayracks, but look up when the headlights of the Chevrolet captures them briefly as the car passes. Up ahead, a wooden sign arches over the road. ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ it says in bold capital letters. The pickup surfaces from underneath the sign and proceeds up the driveway, which fans out into a square. In front of a house - which is built from sandstone and has a red-tiled roof - Jo parks the car and turns off the ignition.

Amazed by the setting, Y/N gets out of the truck and takes it in. Several buildings, all in the same architectural style, surround the square as well. The soft and easing sounds of horses rummaging around in their stables originate from a large barn to the right of the family home. Then there’s that familiar and soothing smell of the farm, although the scent that’s reaching her senses now is sharper, more earthy than she’s used to up in Maine. Then another sound draws her attention; the sound of a cheerful crowd and country songs. Y/N looks over the top of the Chevrolet and watches Jo walk over to a building complex at the other end of the square.

“Leave your suitcase. Let’s fix us a drink first.” She hints at the saloon, from where the music is coming. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the bunch.” Y/N follows in a fast stride, forking her fingers through her hair and straightening it out quickly, then she tucks her checkered blouse into her jeans, even though she just decided that she was going to leave it hanging over her belt. This is ridiculous, she scolds at herself. Why are you so nervous?

She doesn’t have time to think about it, because when she’s about to catch up with Jo, the blonde swings open the double doors and makes her entrance. The musk of hard work mixed with beer and nicotine welcomes her, mingling with the lingering heat of the day. The music shifts to a new song, the guitars and a strong beat sounding through the space. Burning stares come her way as they walk into the saloon, making her feel like she got stuck in an old spaghetti western starring Clint Eastwood. Where is that cowboy to save her now?

“Look what I found out in the rain,” Jo jokes, casually putting an arm around Y/N’s neck. “Our Yankee!” Cheers rise from the group of men, glad that they made it back. Half-empty beer bottles litter the wooden surface of the table they are seated at; it’s clear that the party has been going for a while now, eyes getting hazy and laughs roaring louder. It’s a good thing that Jo basically drags her inside, because if she had been on her own, she would have frozen on the spot.

A middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair steps from behind the counter to meet them halfway. With a dish towel hanging over her shoulder, she approaches the new face, smiling genuinely. “Y/N, this is my mom,” Jo introduces. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Singer,” Y/N greets, humble, remembering her name from the email exchanges they had to arrange her internship. “Please, call me Ellen. Welcome. Make yourself at home, honey,” she says as her husband flanks her. “And this is my old man.” Jo pats him on the back, triggering a mutter. “I’m not that old,” he states, redirecting his attention to the new guest. “I’m Bobby. Nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout the delay.” “Oh, that’s alright,” Y/N smiles back at him, starting to feel more at ease.

The family seems really nice, but the group of men - which Y/N assumes is the ranch crew - still curiously lurks at her. Intimidated, she lets her eyes roam through the bar, trying not to stare. At home she had her brothers to back her up, their presence alone usually enough for guys to take a step back. But yet again she becomes painfully aware of the fact that she is on her own this time.

Her eyes glide over the workers and wranglers. At the far end of the table, a guy - who she guesses to be in his late twenties - looks back at her from under his cowboy hat. He has two poker cards in one hand and nurses a bottle of beer with the other, resting his strong forearms on the edge of the wood. Emerald green eyes seem to read her like an open book, taking her in with enough confidence in his expression to compensate for what she lacks. He puts his lips against the mouth of his beer bottle and takes a swig, slowly, without breaking eye contact. Did he really take his time or did her mind just process that in slow-motion? Suddenly aware that she’s staring, Y/N looks away and focuses on Jo again, who has continued the introduction.

“This is Ash, one of our wranglers and in charge of the cattle. Don’t let the hair fool ya, he’s a pretty swell guy under all the craziness.” She walks behind him, peeking into his cards. “Wow, you really just raised with a two and a three?” The guy next to Ash shoves two piles of chips forward, flashing the bluffer a big grin. Jo has settled between the two men, smirking at Ash’s annoyed face. Resting her folded arm on his shoulder, she turns her head and now puts a hand on her neighbor’s back. “Benny Lafitte. Best farrier in Arizona. Also, a master on the ground when it comes to starting young horses.” The man with a nicely trimmed beard tips his hat at Y/N, observing her with his blue eyes for a second before the ranch owner’s daughter moves on. “Over yonder is Garth. Wrangler and our man in the stables.” She nods at the fragile built guy with dark hair, who shyly looks up and greets the newcomer. “He’s harmless, great mounted shooter by the way.”

Jo straightens her back and folds her arms in front of her chest as she turns to her cousin. He doesn’t look back, though. His eyes haven’t left the new face, who forces herself to meet his gaze. After everything that Jo told her about this guy, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being the spectator for her discomfort and shyness. But my God, she gets why the girls swoon by the sight of him. He has great features, a few days old scruff adding to his strong jawline. Broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his jacket, his strong fingers running slowly up and down the smooth glass of the bottle. He looks like he just walked out of a Marlboro commercial, western hat and all. “And this is Dean,” Jo states simply, observing them both. As the guy in question takes another swig of his drink, he finally tears his eyes away from Y/N. The weight that was pressing on her chest is lifted and instantly she finds it easier to breathe. “What? No catchy intro for me?” he asks Jo. “Now, I know it’s hard to describe a man like me with words--” “Oh, I already described you just fine, Winchester,” she returns impudently. “Every girl about to encounter you deserves a fair warning.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that remark, not sure how to interpret the remark. His eyes flick back to Y/N again, startling her. She must have flinched, because her reaction ignites a grin. “You know us now, but what’s your name?” Dean asks, even though he is already aware. Pushing her self-consciousness out of the way, she speaks as clear as she can, not just addressing him, but the entire crew. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you all.”

When their gazes lock again, the cowboy’s smile grows a little wider and he flashes her a short and subtle wink. It’s close to unnoticeable, had she blinked she would’ve missed it, but she caught it, alright.

“Your turn, brother,” Benny calls for his attention on the game. Dean glances down at his cards once more. A pair of queens; surely he’s going along with the raise, but he doesn’t want to be obvious about his good hand. He shoves two stacks of chips forward to meet the stakes and waits for his friend’s response. Translating his expressions and possible tells, the blue-eyed wrangler stares back at him while dealer Garth unfolds the final card; a queen of hearts. Benny seems to ponder, but Dean doesn’t give him an inch.

The farrier throws in five more chips. “I raise with five hundred.” “One thousand,” Dean counters. Benny chuckles. He’s got to be bluffing, right? “Fine,” he agrees, adding five more to the pot as he throws down his cards on the table for his opponent to see. “A pair of Aces.”

A good hand indeed, but not good enough to win. Dean bites his lip, looks down at his cards, then back at the young woman that caught his eye. This time she’s prepared; Y/N doesn’t look away. All she does is stare back into those green orbs, standing her ground. Before it becomes obvious to the others in their company, Dean averts his gaze first. For Y/N it feels like a big win in this strange staring contest that started from the moment she walked in. The hand that Dean lays out on the table is his victory. Three of a kind just won him over three thousand chips. Interesting, how a queen of hearts in the last draw is the key to winning this game of cards.

“Well, shit!” Benny laughs, leaning back in his seat and admitting his defeat. “Guess the next round’s on me then.” “Let me pour you a drink, sweety,” Ellen suggests, bumping her shoulder into Y/N lightly. “You can use one after all that traveling.”

A heavy breath falls from her lips as she joins the ranch owner’s wife at the bar. Ellen isn’t wrong. Boy, she needs a drink, but not because of the long flight. The attention from Dean, him looking at her like he did; it’s unlike any attention she has ever received. It felt exciting and suffocating at the same time. Unable to truly understand what she is experiencing right now, Y/N thinks about what Jo said. The words she spoke in the car are starting to make sense now. The way this man has a grip on her since the moment she laid eyes on him, throws her off. He shouldn’t be having that effect on her, she’s not that kind of girl, after all. She’s the kind that keeps her eye on the ball and doesn’t let anything distract her. And if guys would try? She would give them a run for their money. With three brothers, Y/N learned to stand her ground in order to compete with her siblings. She developed a smart mouth and isn’t easily intimidated by men. But somehow all the lessons learned flew right out the window the moment Dean Winchester laid eyes on her.

“What are you having?” The one person who got her drowning in her thoughts settles on a stool on her right. She glances aside at Dean, who has a gentle smile on his surprisingly plump lips. “A beer would be great.” She turns to Ellen, who is waiting by the fridge for an answer. The wrangler puts up two fingers as he makes contact with his aunt behind the counter, signaling her to double it. Skillfully, she flips the caps off the bottles and hands them over. “Here ye go. On the house,” she insists, her expression gentle. “Thank you,” Y/N returns gratefully with a slight nod of the head.

As Ellen Singer leaves to join her husband, Y/N is forced to deal with the guy in the seat next to her. Conflicting emotions battle each other inside her chaotic mind. Working on this ranch is going to show her Dad that she can build a company worth his investment. It will teach her everything she needs to know about ranch work. She made an agreement with herself that she is going to use every second of her time to learn. Wasting it by fooling around with one of the wranglers does not fit in her schedule and it certainly isn’t going to deliver the message that she’s taking this internship seriously. But she cannot deny that a part of her is curious about this cowboy. He ignited a downright confusing interest, all that with a few lingering stares and a couple of words.

When she glances aside at the handsome man, elbows on the bar while holding her beer loosely by its neck, Jo moves into her peripheral vision. With a stack of plates in her hands, the blonde cowgirl enters the area behind the counter and continues to the kitchen, but not before shooting her new friend a glare that asks her what the hell she’s doing and tells her to stop it right now. Jo’s good advice fights its way to the surface and Y/N’s common sense takes over again. Dean didn’t take a seat because he likes her, he took that seat because he wants to get laid tonight.

“So--” he starts off. “Just let me get one thing straight,” Y/N interrupts, “I’m here to learn about the ranch management, not to entertain you during lonely moments. You might be able to wind any other girl around your finger, but not me, so forget it.” It’s out there before she’s able to stop herself. She doesn’t fully understand where the words came from and how she managed to gather the courage to speak up, but the harsh message is out, hovering between them and throwing her admirer off his game. Jo - who spied on them from around the corner - seems impressed and smirks, amused, before disappearing again.

She’s not the only one who is left stunned. Dean has raised his eyebrows and needs a moment to recover. “In my defense, I was gonna ask you if you were looking forward to your first day tomorrow,” he says with a chuckle, rubbing his chin. “I like to set boundaries,” she states, taking a swig of her beer. “Apparently.” Dean clears his throat, collecting himself before he speaks a little lower. “Good thing I like to break them.”

The charismatic man has turned towards her now, his hand holding the beer resting on the counter. He’s not hiding that this hard-to-get demeanor actually intrigues him more. His arrogance, on the other end, only fuels Y/N’s persistence to shut his attempt down. “It wouldn’t really be breaking boundaries if I’m just a number on the long list of girls you picked up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day and tomorrow probably isn’t going to be much shorter, so I’m going to get some sleep.”

With those words, she knocks back the last of the beer and leaves the bottle on the bar. Before he can stop her, she hops off her stool. “I’ll show you the way,” Jo offers, surfacing from the backroom again. With a suppressed grin on her lips, she passes Dean, who watches the two girls walk away from him, flabbergasted.

It’s then when the puzzle pieces fall in place. That little bitch... Jo just cockblocked him! He bets his lovely cousin told all about his intermezzos with some of the women that have passed through these doors. She just ruined a perfectly good chance to get together with the new girl.

Without giving him one more second of her time, Y/N starts to walk towards the exit of the saloon, followed by Jo. “G’night, everyone.” They all reply, either with words or by waving, all but Dean. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, turning on the stool to meet his beer again. It doesn’t happen very often, but his pride has taken quite a punch. When he looked at the woman that had him do a double-take when she walked through those doors, he could have sworn he saw her react to him. Maybe you’re getting sloppy, he thinks to himself. Maybe you’re getting too old for this shit.

No, that can’t be it. Just because he’s heading towards those dreadful thirties, doesn’t mean he has to change the way he plays this game. Benny is half a decade older than him, he still lives like a bachelor and will most likely do so for the rest of his days. The intern probably has some history that causes her to act this way, a backpack full of misery; not something he wants to deal with anyway. Too complicated, at least that what he’s tries to convince himself of.

“Hey, amigo? What’s that on your face?” Ash looks over at the bar, observing the man who just got rejected. He shuffles the cards for the last game of the night. “Oh, I see it too,” Garth acknowledges, pretending to be shocked by the sight. “That doesn’t look so good.” Dean feels his cheek and casts a confused gaze at his friends as Benny starts to snigger. “That’s one ugly lookin’ red handprint that’s swelling up, man,” Ash continues.

Garth giggles, his laughter coming out in a high-pitched sniggering sound. By now Dean gets what’s going on and rolls his eyes. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these assholes. “That’s gotta hurt, Chief. Want me to get some ice for that?” Benny adds, sparkles in his bright blues. “Y’all can kiss my go-to-hell,” Dean mutters, unable to appreciate the banter.

Now all three burst out in laughter and even Bobby can’t help but join in a full belly laugh. After the fun, Benny gets up from his chair and walks over to fill the empty spot beside him. “I think this is a good thing,” he comments, his accent as gentle as Southern comfort. “It'll keep you sharp, a gal like that.” “She’s quite somethin’, isn’t she?” Dean smiles at his drink. “She ain’t easy, that’s for sure,” he agrees. “Good thing she ain’t the only lady friend in town.”

Benny redirects Dean’s eyes to a beautiful dark-haired woman at the pool table. Casey is a guest that enjoys her time at the ranch every holiday, especially since most of that time is spent with a certain wrangler. She must have arrived just now, because he didn’t notice her earlier. Or was that because his eyes and mind were too occupied by someone else? It doesn’t matter, because when Casey makes eye contact before pocketing the striped number thirteen, the sexual tension between them is already stirring up. He might not spend the night between the sheets with Y/N, but he will be satisfied by the end of the night either way.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part three here

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daisylincs · 5 years ago

Note

Ok sorry if you get multiple of the same ask just ignore the copies Anyway can you do a staticquake 53, 58, 62

53 = Mutual Pining, 58 = Accidental Eavesdropping and 62 = Love Confessor (Character A confessing their love for Character B to Character C).

Hey thanks, anon! Now, for some reason, my brain at midnight decided it would be a really good idea to combine this prompt with, of all things, a Circus AU. I cannot for the life of me explain why I thought this, except maybe that I was scrolling through the prompt list and realised that I've never actually seen a Circus AU before. (If you've ever seen one, please send it to me!! I'd love to give it a read.)

Anyway, however it happened, here's the bullet-point fic for you! I hope you like it 😁🎪

Shield Circus is known far and wide for its incredible acts, and for how its performers have formed their own tight-knit little family. From the ringmaster, Coulson, who's basically a dad to them all, to the fearless trapeze queen May and her protégés Daisy and Elena, to Fitz and Jemma with their ever-hilarious mad science show, everyone has a place where they fit in, and everyone knows, trusts and likes everyone.

Naturally, there's a lot of teasing around, too - with a group as close as that, what else can you expect, really?

And since Fitzsimmons have finally gotten their act together (ha, ha) the group's collective shipping interest has moved on to Daisy.

Specifically, Daisy and Lincoln, who everybody can see like each other - except, obviously, Daisy and Lincoln.

Lincoln's role in the circus is a musician, and while he's still a part of the Shield family, he's not as super-close as all the performers are. Him and Daisy are friends, sure, but they're not that close, and he's sure his massive crush is unrequited.

After all, why would someone like her, who can literally fly through the air, fall in love with him, whose only sort-of skill is playing the circus theme?

He's made it a habit to sit and watch her train with May and Elena in the evenings - she's absolutely radiant in the air, flushed and happy with success, and always laughing and delighted with herself when she comes down to the ground again.

Oh, he's so far gone.

"You two drive me up the wall," Hunter, the lion-tamer, informs Lincoln as he's setting up his act. (Lincoln doesn't think Hunter can really talk, since he literally describes his job with the lions as "they can't do anything worse to me than my hellbeast wife." But he doesn't say that - Hunter and Bobbi are in one of their on phases.)

Instead he just grumbles, "yeah, whatever, man," as he trails the trapeze artists out of the ring so he can hopefully catch Daisy for a chat before dinner.

He's hanging around outside the changing room - not creepily, thank you very much, he and Daisy actually have a standing arrangement to meet up after she's done with training to laugh together about the day's nonsense - when he hears May's voice.

He's a little surprised, because May usually changes very quickly so she can go over the plans for the next show with Coulson before dinner.

And he knows he shouldn't, but if his time with Shield has taught him anything, it's that privacy is a rather vague construct around here. Eavesdropping is a thing in the circus, especially if it can get you good bribing material.

Nobody's ever got any good bribing material on May, so can you even blame him for listening in?

What he hears, though, is decidedly not that.

"... sure he doesn't feel the same way?" May is asking.

It's Daisy who replies. "I don't know! He's never shown anything that couldn't just be interpreted as just, you know, being a good friend."

May makes a kind of unconvinced "hmm" noise.

"Oh, don't give me that," Daisy says, exasperated. "Fitz and Jemma used to meet up after training all the time - hell, they even slept in each other's trailers."

"And Fitz and Jemma are now dating," May says drily.

Lincoln can just see the scowl on Daisy's face. "Okay, fine, maybe not my best example. But -" her voice catches slightly "- I don't want to go into this unless I'm absolutely sure he feels the same way. I can't… the pain of thinking someone really cares about me, then having my heart torn out when I find out the truth - I can't go through that again."

He has never heard her sound so vulnerable, and it makes his heart clench. He knows exactly who did this to her, and if Ward ever shows his face here again, Lincoln will punch him straight into the next county. (He suspects he'll have to stand in line, though.)

There's a kind of soft rustle in the room, and he thinks it might mean May has pulled Daisy into a hug. His heart clenches again, for entirely different reasons this time - May might seem unapproachable and impassive, but God, she cares so much.

"Daisy," May says softly, and Lincoln almost gasps at how gentle her voice is. "I know you've been hurt, but if my life has taught me one thing, it's that we're not meant to spend our lives alone. Love is something we should all have, and I know better than anyone how hard it can be to open your heart to it, because the first step is trust."

"Trust, Daisy," she continues. "I know how hard it is, but you have to trust that Lincoln is nothing like Ward. You have to trust that he's a good guy, and that he'd never hurt you that way."

Lincoln almost misses the rest of her sentence, because his brain has frozen at the mention of his name. Wait, wait, wait. They were talking about him?

What???

Surely this doesn't mean… if she said she's not sure he feels the same way… if May is talking about love…

His brain blanks out completely for a few seconds as it hits him that Daisy might actually return his feelings.

Somewhat poetically, it's Daisy's voice that brings him back to reality. "He's a really, really good friend," she says, and her voice is so warm. "You really think he feels the same way?"

Lincoln can practically hear May rolling her eyes. "Of course he does," she says. "Daisy, that boy is gaga for you."

Daisy laughs softly, incredulously, as though she's only just letting herself believe it. (He totally gets the feeling.)

"Thanks, May," she says, still in that slightly breathless tone of voice.

And Lincoln has never heard May sound so warm as she replies, "Anytime."

He's so caught up in wondering at it all that he almost doesn't realise when the door opens. He has to scramble like a mad thing to get behind one of the lockers so the women don't see him.

"Lincoln should be somewhere nearby," Daisy says, and he winches at the absolute accuracy of that. "We always meet up for a chat around this time."

"And you think you two don't have anything special," May snorts.

Daisy shakes her head. "Yeah, yeah." But she's smiling as she walks off.

Lincoln is smiling, too, and he's so relieved and happy that he totally forgets about the locker he ducked behind. As he stands up, he bangs his head against it, really, really loudly.

Ow.

And also, oh, shit.

May whips around, her eyes narrowing. "Out," she orders.

Lincoln sheepishly comes out from behind the locker, rubbing his head. That really hurt, and now he's busted. Just perfect.

May's eyes narrow even further, if that's even possible. "How long were you there?" she asks in her soft, dangerous tone.

Lincoln swallows. He wouldn't dare lie to May. So, shame-facedly, he admits, "since pretty much the beginning."

"And why," May asks in a voice that bites like a whip, "did you think it was a good idea to listen in on a private conversation?"

"I… was hoping… to get bribing material," he says weakly. "On, uh, you."

He's sure he's just signed his own death warrant, but to his total surprise, May snorts and rolls her eyes. "This really is Coulson's circus, isn't it? He's really rubbed his no-personal-space-we're-a-family ethic off on you all, hasn't he?"

"Uh, yeah," Lincoln says awkwardly.

May shakes her head, but there's only fondness in her gaze. "He'd be so frustratingly happy to hear that."

Her gaze sobers quickly, though. "I was right, wasn't I?" she asks, getting straight to the point. He's always respected that about her. "You do love Daisy?"

"Of course I do," he says, and he can feel a grin tugging at his lips just to admit it. Wow, it feels good - but it's nothing compared to actually KNOWING she feels the same way.

May's gaze is amused, but, he thinks, just a bit affectionate, too. "Good," she says. "Then I think you two will be very happy."

"Thanks," he says, feeling his grin widen and his chest expand with warmth. "That means a lot, from you."

Because it really does - May is basically Daisy's mom. The little exchange he just overheard pretty much proves that.

May smiles at him - an actual smile. Whoa. "Off you go," she tells him. "Go find the girl you love."

He can't stop grinning as he turns to walk away, feeling a literal bounce in his step. Fitz really wasn't exaggerating with the whole love-makes-you-so-happy-you-could-float-away thing, was he?

"Just one more thing," May calls as he's about to round the corner. "I don't think I really need to tell you this, but if you hurt Daisy, I promise you I will put you in that cannon and fire you through the roof."

Lincoln has to bite back a grin at the picture, but he's never been more serious as he replies, "I hope you'll never have to do that."

May gives him a nod, and he really feels like he's passed a test. A nod and a smile from Melinda May? He never thought he'd see the day.

He's so preoccupied in his proud thoughts that he completely forgets to look where he's going, and crashes right into someone on the other side of the corner.

"What the… Daisy?!?!" he exclaims as he sees who it is. Then he processes her suspicious pose leaning against the corner. "What are you… were you eavesdropping on me?"

Daisy’s cheeks are burning, but she folds her arms and stares him down. "Well, as it turns out, I was eavesdropping on you admitting that you had eavesdropped on me," she points out, confusingly but correctly.

He has to concede that one - and he's pretty sure his cheeks are burning, too, as he realises what exactly she would have heard.

"So, um, you… like me, too?" he asks.

At the exact same time, she says, "I can't believe you like me, too!"

"Well," he says, cheeks practically on fire from burning so much, "I thought I was actually pretty obvious, what with the whole watching you train and spending every free minute chatting with you -"

"I thought you were just being a good friend!" she protests, and somehow she's drifting a step closer to him with every word. "I didn't know that I'd end up falling for you, even though your puns are the stupidest thing in this world!"

"My puns are awesome," he argues, letting the last bit of distance between them draw closed. "And, really, didn't you see all the similarities between us and Fitzsimmons?"

"Well, you probably thought I didn't even notice you," she reasons, raising her hands to poke at his chest but ending up just resting them there. "As if I could not notice you!"

"Should we just agree that we're a pair of oblivious idiots, then?" he asks, reaching out to brush a curl of hair behind her ear and letting his hand linger behind her ear.

And, really, that line should not be as romantic as it is, but Daisy's gaze turns all soft and warm.

"Yes," she says, and her voice is breathless in the best way possible. "We should."

And then they're kissing, her hands flattening and smoothing on his chest and his hands cradling the sides of her face.

To think he ever thought she wouldn't notice him. To think she ever thought he was just being a good friend!

If they weren't so busy kissing, he might even see what Hunter means.

But as it is, he's fully occupied with the wonderful feeling of Daisy's lips on his.

Well, at least until he gears someone start clapping slowly behind them.

"Really, Hunter?" Daisy asks without even opening her eyes.

Hunter doesn't even have the dignity to look ashamed of himself. "Come on, Dais, you know the drill." He holds out his hand to Fitz. "Come on, mate, pay up."

Grumbling, Fitz forks over what looks like a hundred dollars. Lincoln just shakes his head.

Then May walks calmly around the corner and takes the money from Hunter's hand. "Actually, I think you'll find that my bet predicted this to the day," she says, and holds out her hand for everyone to pay up.

At Daisy and Lincoln's absolutely incredulous stares, she shrugs and pockets her money. "What do you expect? I married Phil Coulson."

Then she's walking away like the badass she is, leaving everyone else to trail after her.

Daisy buries her head in Lincoln's shoulder. "This is a crazy family we're part of, isn't it?"

His eyes light up with mischief. "Yeah, it's a real circus."

Daisy's eyes widen, and she groans and slaps at his shoulder. "Oh my Goooood."

She can feel his laughter even more than she can hear it with her cheek pressed against his chest.

And cliché as it might be, she's never been happier.

She's found where she truly belongs.

"They're crazy," she agrees, looking up at him with a soft smile, "but I wouldn't trade any of it for the world."

The End.

#tropes mashup #circus au #mutual pining #accidental eavesdropping #staticquake #love confessor #bullet-point fic

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bunnis-babes · 6 years ago

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Something About the Stars Chapter 3: First Day Part 2

You stared blankly at the now empty gym. Morning practices had just ended and now you were patiently waiting for your guide, Kuroo, to finish changing. Your feelings about Kuroo were somewhat neutral at the moment. He seemed alright, he was very good looking despite his unkempt appearance, and he was funny in a teasing kind of way. Now that you thought of it, he reminded you of a black cat, which was fitting. You chuckled to yourself, very proud of your connection.

“What’s so funny?” you heard next to you.

You whipped your head to the voice and found none other than Kuroo. You let out a breath and shake your head. Yes - very much like a black cat.

“Nothing, just thought of something…” you trailed off awkwardly, not quite ready to be buddy-buddy with this - pretty much - stranger.

He shrugged off your response with a smirk.

“Alright. Now are you planning on sitting there the whole day, or are you going to let me show you around?”

You nodded and stood up, gesturing in front of you “Well lead the way, my guide.”

He chuckled and began walking with you alongside him. You made sure there was a respectable distance between the two of you as to not give anyone the wrong idea - rather, any ideas at all. The two of you walked in a mostly comfortable silence; Kuroo only piped up to either announce what part of the school you were at or give a comment when he deemed it necessary. Some of his more clever comments even made you hold back a giggle or two, and you somehow felt relaxed around him - it was all very strange to you.

“Do you know what your schedule is so I can, you know, show you around a bit better,” he said expectantly

You sighed and pulled your bag off your shoulder, shuffling through its contents until you pulled out a piece of paper with all your information on it. You handed to him and allowed him to scan through its contents with little hums of amusement. It felt like he was ridiculing you for a second, but he handed it back with a smirk.

“Looks like you really like torturing yourself,” he chuckled, you didn’t find it amusing, and you were sure to show him with the dead look on your face.

‘I’m kidding,” he threw his arms up in defense, “but seriously, you’re taking several college-level courses, that’s going to be tough.”

“I can handle tough.” you retort.

“And I never said you couldn’t. Anyway, we’ve got two classes together, so I can help you out with them if you need,”

You eye him suspiciously, “Which classes?”

“Physics and Calculus.”

You look at him in surprise, you didn’t take him for the hard-working smart type. Then again, who were you to judge, you probably looked like a dumb angsty first year to him.

“Wow, I’ve only known you for a couple of minutes and I’ve already left you speechless.” he teases, and you actually have to fight back a blush and a smile.

“Can you just show me to my classes, Kuroo.” you sigh.

He gives you a Cheshire grin that makes your stomach feel weird.

“Of course, my lady.”

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Your first and second-hour classes were uneventful, just the usual reintroducing students to a new school year. You knew absolutely no one in those classes, so you hardly interacted with anyone and sat silently in your seat doodling on your paper. Your third hour was Calculus with Kuroo. Once again the same thing, but this time you had Kuroo who occasionally spoke to you when he wasn’t catching up with other students. Fourth, fifth, and sixth you had with that excitable girl from earlier. Saki- Sara- Sachi- something like that. She tried her best to talk to you, and even get you to talk to some of her friends. Seventh hour you had Kuroo again, which was fine. Your teacher was much more interactive in this class than all the others, and you knew physics would be an enjoyable class here.

Finally, your classes were over, but you stayed in your seat for a moment. Clubs were about to begin, and you were struggling to decide on whether or not you wanted to join one. You were given a list of the clubs in a packet before school started, but you only find yourself interested in three. The volleyball club was tempting, but you knew Nekomas female team was mediocre at best so you scratched that off the list right away. You could go for art club, but you’d rather not interact with the art teacher more than you had - he gave off weird vibes. Finally, there was the student council, it seemed alright, if only it wasn’t writhing with the teacher's pets and suck-ups.

With a sigh, you stood. It was most likely best if clubs stayed on the back burner now, you should wait to see how well you can balance homework and homelife before you add in clubs. You walk yourself silently through the mostly empty halls and take in the school as a whole from what you’ve experienced. You decide you don’t hate Nekoma. Sure, it didn’t have Bokuto or Akaashi or anyone who could understand your soulmate dilemma, but it was alright.

You allow your mind to settle on this thought for a moment and walk yourself to the front gates.

Your route home was the same route you took to school. It was also apparently the same route Kuroo took home as well - thus lead to your current situation of the two of you walking side by side to your houses. You lived in the same neighborhood as him and this was just the fastest route for both of you, you assumed. Still something bout this bothered you, you had so many coincidences with this guy it was getting strange. Then it clicked.

“Kuroo, why aren’t you at volleyball practice? I feel like as the captain, it's your responsibility to show up.” you mused.

Maybe things worked differently at Nekoma with club captains, but you highly doubted it.

“Coach decided to give us a break for the first day of school,” he said nonchalantly.

You hummed, that did make plenty of sense. Still, it was oddly convenient.

“Alright, it’s been bugging me for a while,” Kuroo suddenly spoke up “how’d you become friends with someone like Bokuto.”

“He didn’t tell you?” you questioned.

“I never asked him, never even thought to until I actually talked to you. You two don’t really seem like you’d fit together well.” he chuckled.

“Well, neither do him and Akaashi, but they make it work.” you counter

You wished you could ass ‘because they’re soulmates,’ but you didn’t know what his stance was on that subject, and you did not want to get into a heated debate with this guy.

“Touché,’ he chuckled, “but seriously tell me, you don’t have a forced reason to hang out with the guy.”

You nodded, he had a point.

“Well, it was my first year at Fukurodani, and I was never really social so I didn’t join any clubs. For the first half of the year I just… hid in teachers' rooms after school or went to Juku.

Then for some reason, I don’t even remember what, I decided I would just hide-out in the gym after school. I didn’t really pay much attention to the guys first, but I eventually found my attention captured by them and the sport, and so instead of doing homework I watched volleyball.” you paused for a moment, wondering how to explain Bokuto’s actions but was rudely interrupted.

“Is that why you were creeping on us today, you like Volleyball?” he teased.

You gave him a harsh glare.

“Yes and no, just shut up so I can explain.

As I was about to say, Bokuto approached me first, because I wasn’t about to talk to someone as intimidating as him. He just talked to me like a person, and we somehow melted into a friendship over our mutual love for volleyball and other things, as cheesy as that sounds.”

Kuroo hummed thoughtfully at your story.

“Believable, I feel like you watered down Bokuto’s forceful-friendship a bit, though.” he joked.

You laughed - laughed out loud at his blunt statement. It wasn’t funny because he was right, Bokuto was forceful with his being friends with you or anyone. There was something about it being said out-loud so blatantly, however, that made you want to laugh about it. Kuroo eventually started laughing along with you, once he got over his initial confusion. Surely both of you look like idiots, but it felt so nice to laugh with someone different that you can't bring yourself to care.

“S-sorry,” you said through giggles, “it’s just… r-really nice to laugh about something with someone different for once.”

“I get what you mean, it's nice to have different people around to talk to sometimes,” he assures.

“Ah- this is mine…” you said, a bit disappointed your chat with Kuroo was over.

Kuroo nodded and complimented your house politely, as most people who see it does. You both said your goodbyes and made your way in opposite directions. You were about to open the door when you heard Kuroo call out to you.

“You should come to tomorrow's practice, and I’ll walk you to school too!” he shouted.

“I don’t want to get up that early.” you retort.

He laughs at your stubbornness.

“Don’t worry, no morning practices tomorrow, just the one after school. What do you say?”

His offering is really considerate, and who are you to decline.

“Be outside my place at 8:30 sharp, or I’m leaving without you!” you manage to joke.

You feel your heart swell with pride in yourself when he smiles and gives you a thumbs up.

(I apologize for how sloppy this is, I’m incredibly tired right now.)

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsurou x reader #kuroo #tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #x reader #hq #something about the stars

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nukagalreacts · 6 years ago

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Part two of F04 Companions react to arriving to a settlement to late and the whole place has been razed!

omg y’all sorry im a week late on this but here it is and I hope you like it! Thanks again for the request and thank you for your patience with me!

Codsworth: It always made him proud to see Sole helping so many settlements, their ability to put themselves before others and show kindness to strangers was a quality he had admired in Sole from the very day he had first started working for them. The ability to be selfless in world like this was hard, but Sole managed to do it day in and day out, without complaining or wondering why them when bad things happened, and they were happy to have a bot like Codsworth looking out for them across the Commonwealth. Today was no different either and Sole had been up bright and early before getting a distress signal from a small settlement not to far from Sanctuary, and was quick to gear up and call for Codsworth who was ready at a moments notice.

Codsworth was helpful in keeping the path clear for Sole as they focused on getting to the settlement and bracing themselves for whatever enemies awaited them. A bit later they came up and over the hill that was suppose to overlook the small settlement and Codsworth felt horrible as he saw that everything had been burned to the ground. He could see that his master was visibly shaken by this and did his best to provide words of comfort and let Sole know they would help them track down those responsible for this horrible crime. Him and Sole went down the hill and got to work looking for any evidence of who or what did this, Sole was glad Codsworth has multiple keener eyes then they did or else it would have taken a lot longer to search through the charred rubble.

Nick: The detective and Sole where like the same person when it came to going out of their way to helping anyone who needed it, so he was usually the one Sole picked to come along with them when a settlement needed assistance. Nick and Sole were widely recognized among the settlements and people always reached out to them first when needing help, and since Nick was a synth it actually increased people’s trust of synths in general as more people came to realize that synths weren’t a bad thing and most of them were just trying to live their lives.

Today was going to be no different than any other, they were just going to do a check in with a settlement that had been having some ghoul problems lately and as of last time they had gotten better defenses and seemed to be doing well. Instead they were greeted with the site of ashy, blackened ruins and bodies of ghouls and settlers scattered around the area. He could feel the disappointment and sense of failure wash over him and could see Sole’s eyes get a bit watery not just from the smoke but trying to hold back any emotions. This wasn't the first time this type of thing had happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it didn’t make the failure sting any less. From what he could see with how many dead ghoul bodies there were it looked like maybe the settlers were caught off guard and got overtaken so fast that they didn’t even have time to send out a distress signal. All they could do and hope for now was to go and see if they could find any survivors in the surrounding area.

Cait: She hated going out of her way to help anyone unless there was something in it for her, even then the reward better be something pretty spectacular if she has to risk her ass for someone. When she had first started traveling with Sole and they went off to help a settlement she moaned and groaned the whole time saying what a waste of time it was and people needed to learn how to defend themselves and not rely on others for help, over time though Sole had softened her up a bit and convinced her helping these places was for the betterment of the Commonwealth as a whole. Cait couldn’t deny either that helping so many places out had its perks and they ended up getting weapons and other supplies for free from grateful settlements, and it felt good to be seen as somewhat of a hero instead of being seen as some low life junkie.

Not every mission went smoothly though and she had seen her fair share of razed settlements,so the one she was staring at right now didn’t affect her at all, not like it did Sole anyways. Cait’s whole life had always been nothing but violence and neglect, her emotions had become limited and all but stunted as an adult, with Sole that had changed a little bit but not by much. In this case Cait acted as the more level headed one who would try to get Sole to calm down and think rationally so they could go kick the ass of whoever raided this settlement, now that was something Cait was always happy to do.

Deacon: The man may be a compulsive liar who changes his face every other week and no one really knows who he is besides those he works with, but deep down he cared about helping the people of the Commonwealth, even those who weren’t synths. In between doing missions for the railroad with Sole they would go out and do their best to help struggling settlements rather that would be building up defenses, taking care of raiders, or just helping with crops, no job was to big or small for them.

In the morning they had been making their way to a drop box location for info on their next mission when they spotted wafts of black smoke not to far from their location. They shared a look before making the mutual decision to go check it out. Deacon expected to find a camp of super mutants but it was so much worse than that, from behind his sunglasses he could make out a pile of bodies of what he assumed had been innocent settlers all stacked in a gruesome display of guts and blood. Super mutants had already come through here and slaughtered and destroyed everything without mercy, it made his stomach twist and turn as he turned away trying to keep down the bile half way up his throat. He felt horrible that him and Sole hadn’t passed by sooner they could have saved everyone here, but he guessed this is just the way the cards played out sometimes, and they couldn’t always be in the right place every time.

Curie: Someone needs help she is the synth for the job and will come running from anywhere in the Commonwealth to help anyone out! Curie has become a well known face among the people because she is so handy at her medical practice and hasn’t had a patient die on her yet, and everyone loves her friendly and calm personality. Whenever Sole is going out to a settlement she never leaves Curie behind no matter the reason she is going out to help them.

This time around Sole and Curie had plans to stop at a settlement not far from Sanctuary because some of the younger settlers kept coming down with a certain disease, and Curie had found a way to make a vaccine for it and planned to treat all the settlers with it. Curie was overly excited as they made their way down the trail that led right into the settlement, her medical bag carrying all the vaccines dropped out of her hand and Sole could hear the syringes breaking along with other medical equipment as they stared in shock at the destroyed settlement. Curie cried out and covered her mouth in horror, she had loved this place and the people in it so much and had come to care for them like family and in the blink of an eye something had stolen it all away. Curie slumped to the ground not understanding why this had happened, why the Commonwealth had to be such a cruel place.

Danse: Before he had found out he was a synth and worked for the B.O.S, helping out settlements and clearing out the filth to cleanse the Commonwealth had just been a job, he was only following orders as a soldier, nothing more. With Sole though he had learned compassion and he actually began to care about what really happened to the settlers and the people of the Commonwealth, he didn’t view this place anymore as just another stepping stone in a mission. It took awhile for people to warm up and trust the former Brotherhood soldier but they soon realized what a changed man he had become, and where thankful for any help he could provide. Afterall Sole had faith in him, so why shouldn’t they give him a chance to.

In the past week him and Sole had been frequently getting distress signals from settlements along the coastline due to an increase in super mutant attacks. Both of them had been out here for awhile helping build up defense’s, setting traps, trying to provide weapons and training to better equip the settlers so they wouldn’t always have to depend on them for protection. Things had settled down and him and Sole had packed up ready to make their way back to Sanctuary when another distress signal blared over the radio on Sole’s pipboy. They had already made some good distance when leaving so it took longer for them to reach the area again and Danse felt horrible when he saw they where to late, super mutants had already razed the settlement and were gathering up the leftover spoils and munching on a few unlucky settlers. Danse felt his blood run hot as he glared down the mutants with disgust, he was going to make them pay for this! He began firing at them with Sole following close behind covering his back, the mutants didn’t stand a chance against the rage that was fueling Danse in his attack.

Also yes I left Dogmeat out on purpose

#F04 comapnions #Fallout 4 companions react #Fallout 4 request #settlements #Paladin Danse #Deacon #Curie #synth #Nick valentine #Codsworth #Sole #sosu #sfw #part 2 of 2

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jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 7 years ago

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(I’ve been having a really rough couple of days, so I thought in an attempt to shake myself out/do something else/just distract myself, I’d post a snippet of a fic I’ve been working on now and then (subject to any edits of course), so I hope you enjoy! Also sorry about the lack of read more, I’m not able to get onto my laptop at the minute)

CUCKOO

Jughead pulls out some of the books in his locker; he’s slowly been emptying it out for weeks, taking things as and when he’ll no longer need them for class. The sight is somewhat bittersweet, in that his locker is just one more thing that won’t belong to him anymore, a place where he could keep his things solely his, now to be recycled, given to someone else. His stickers and notes would no longer litter the door, the picture of him and Jellybean from the summer his grandparents had let him come and visit already moved to his wallet, his books and folders gone from their permanent place inside. Locker 235 would have no memory of Jughead Jones beyond tape residue, just like most of his peers.

Jughead internally rolls his eyes at himself, not wanting to sink to the level of waxing poetic over an empty locker. The slam of the door coincides with another loud noise echoing down the corridor.

“Betty! Betty, wait!”

He knows the name. He knows the voice calling it. He hasn’t spoken to the owner of either in a long time.

Surreptitiously as possible, Jughead casts his gaze over his shoulder, one hand still raised and resting against the dial on his locker.

The first thing he sees is Betty striding purposefully down the hall, shoulders back and hair flying about her face. The weather’s been at a steady eighty degrees for the past few weeks now, and the smooth curve of her shoulders are exposed in the sleeveless, white top she’s wearing. Begrudgingly, Jughead’s eyes fall to the strip of skin between the hem of her shirt and the band of her jeans that’s showing. Just as quickly he moves them down to the pink Keds on her feet and back up to her face. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something that’s almost un-Betty like about her today.

Or maybe there isn’t. As her eyes find his on her way down the hall, he realises that it’s been a while since they’ve looked each other in the eye. What does he know about Betty Cooper anymore?

The corner of her mouth ticks up into something resembling a smile and Jughead’s stomach somersaults. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone, Betty turning away, and he’s left wondering if—knowing that—he imagined it. The lingering feeling in his abdomen says otherwise, but Jughead’s got more sense than to listen to his gut.

Betty scoops her hair into one hand, pulling it into a soft of makeshift ponytail while ducking her head towards the ground, lifting the strands from the back of her neck, relieving the heat, and it strikes him. He doesn’t remember a day when Betty hadn’t worn her hair up to school, in all the years he’s known her. The change makes him feel uneasy, in the same way that his emptying locker had done.

“Betty, would you just listen?” The voice comes again, closer this time. Jughead looks further to his right and sees the owner, barrelling down the hallway, expression pained, thick brows pinched.

Archie could have easily caught up to Betty, Jughead thinks, watching the boy that used to be his friend trail behind her forlornly. She’s not particularly running down the hall, and four years of school sanctioned sports hadn’t exactly left Archie out of shape. No, there’s something else stopping him from reaching out to her.

Jughead may be a social outcast—a self-identified loner—but he’s not completely oblivious. He’s privy to the churning of the rumour mill, as much as the next student.

Golden girl Betty Cooper had walked in on her footballer boyfriend, Archie Andrews, in flagrante with her best friend, Veronica Lodge.

Maybe being popular wasn’t all it cracked up to be. At least at this end of the social spectrum no one cared about the enthralling details of your private life. At Betty and Archie’s heights? They were the proverbial fuel of the high school hierarchy.

But, that wasn’t his problem, Jughead thinks as he lets slip a small sigh, tuning out Archie’s continuing pleas by replacing his headphones and turning in the opposite direction. They’d abandoned him. Whatever trials and tribulations became the prom king and queen were none of his business anymore.

Right?

“Five, four, three, two…” Jughead has taken to actually muttering a countdown out loud like some teen cliche as he watches the second hand drag by in slow motion. It’s his last class of the day (there’s some saving grace in that it’s English—going out on something of a high) and the bell is so close to ringing he can practically feel the vibrations in the air.

The small, red hand finally reaches the twelve, and just like that it’s all over. The shrill ringing of the bell sounds and almost simultaneously a cheer erupts from the majority of seniors surrounding him.

Jughead looks over just in time to see Ethel Muggs rolling her eyes at the farce around them. “You’d think none of them remember these are the best days of our lives,” she mutters sarcastically, and Jughead lifts the corner of his lips in a smirk.

“Thought that was college?” he quips back. Ethel laughs with him as they both gather their things and head for the exit.

“Have a good summer, Jughead. I’ll see you around, maybe?” Ethel asks as they step into the blinding sun (another eighty degreer) and head down the front steps to the parking lot.

“Sure. You too, Ethel.” He’s not sure if they actually will cross paths again, but he supposes he should make some sort of effort to keep in contact with the girl who’s been nothing but a friend to him over the past few years. Bonding by mutual exile might be more appropriate as a label, but the sentiment is still there. Jughead can’t imagine keeping in touch with anyone from Riverdale, though. Too many loose ends to get knotted. His hometown had served its purpose; he’d got his education and his grades, and now it was time for the next step: out.

He isn’t looking up as he approaches his truck, which is why when a familiar pair of pink Keds come into view he’s almost stepping on them before he realises there’s someone leaning against the driver’s side door.

“Whoa, what—” he blurts out, stumbling to a stop.

Betty’s got one ankle crossed over the other where she leans. The jeans have been replaced by a denim skirt today, the length of her legs on display. She’s been taking advantage of the sun, Jughead thinks, as his eyes involuntary trail them. She’s wearing another sleeveless top, this time tucked into her waistband. Her hair’s down again.

Betty smiles, a small thing really, and Jughead frowns.

“Hey, Jug.” It’s been a while since he’s heard his name in her voice—it prods at unwelcome memories, buried somewhere near those memories of his mom’s happy stories. “How are you?”

“How am I?” Jughead repeats, thoroughly confused. He has no idea where this is coming from, or why she’s here, what she wants, but he didn’t expect that to be the first thing she asks. He doesn’t say anything more and her smile falters a little before it’s back.

“Um, this is your truck, right?” Now he’s completely lost.

“I have the keys,” he replies wryly, lifting them up like proof. She giggles again, and he wishes, with a flush, that she’d stop.

“I know this is a bit out of the blue but I need a ride later and I was wondering if you’d mind driving me. Gas money provided, of course,” she says somewhat shyly, gathering her hair into that attempt at a fleeting ponytail again.

“What?” Jughead asks eloquently, his mouth refusing to close fully.

“Please?” Betty asks again, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. Her green eyes are wide and pleading, chipping away at Jughead’s resolve with each passing moment.

“Where do you need to go?” the remains of his rational side thinks to ask, garnering as much information as possible before he agrees to be her chauffeur (because he will agree, he thinks with a pang of self-pity).

Betty chews on her lip some more before answering. “Would it influence your decision at all if I decided to keep the location on a need to know basis? As in, when you need to know, you’ll know,” she says apprehensively.

Jughead wonders if drawing this out any longer will preserve some of his pride, which will definitely disappear when he says yes. He tries to chalk it down to morbid curiosity. “Sure, I guess,” he tries to sound vague, like that’s doing any favours.

Betty’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and gratefulness, and she leans in towards him before she stops herself, instead reaching out and laying a hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Juggie! Pick me up at eight?”

She’s gone before he can answer, and he thinks it wasn’t really a question anyway. The spot where her hand had been against his skin burns the whole ride home.

“I’m not gonna go,” Jughead tells himself more than he tells his friends, rolling a beer mat absently between his hands.

“And abandon Princess Peach in her hour of need? Yeah, right,” Sweet Pea scoffs from his position in front of the Street Fighter machine in the corner of the Whyte Wyrm, not even looking up from the intense game he appears to be caught up in.

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jughead hollers back, chucking the mat at the back of Sweet Pea’s head. His friend lifts one hand briefly to flip him the bird before going back to his game.

Jughead had wanted to transfer to Southside High his sophomore year of high school, but his dad had refused, despite them living in the district. FP had been unmovable in his desire for Jughead to get the best out of school that he could, and no matter his allegiance to the Southside, he knew that didn’t come on this side of the tracks.

It had been hard not to resent his father for metaphorically feeding him to the dogs (Bulldogs, to be precise) in that way, but the further he got from the initial sting of betrayal—and the two month stint living at the Twilight Drive-In—the more thankful for the decision he’d become. It was true that Jughead felt far more affiliation with the kids, like Sweet Pea, like Toni, that grew up on the same side of town as he did. There was a toughened skin, a pessimistic outlook, that developed amongst all of the Southside kids early on that made them feel united—as much as any leather jacket could.

Another thing his father had refused him was an initiation into the Serpents, into gang life—another thing to set him apart from the people that lived around him. FP didn’t want that for Jughead, and while he could understand a father’s desire to protect his son, Jughead couldn’t help but feel shunned, an outsider amongst outsiders. It only made him more determined to pass through Riverdale on his way to more.

Despite this, the kids on the Southside were far more accepting of him than the ones at school ever were, and there was a comfortable cushion to fall back on in his friends here that even a self-professed loner needed sometimes.

“He’s not wrong. You have got something of a hero complex,” Toni smirks from behind the bar, wiping down the sticky surface. Jughead feels his face burn and doesn’t try to disagree. “We all know you’re gonna go.”

“We don’t know that,” Jughead tries to defend lamely.

“Oh, Jones. It’s a sad, but familiar tale. And we all know it includes you going to do whatever bidding the Mother Teresa of the Northside wants you to do,” she lifts a pointed brow at him.

“What does she want you to do?” Sweet Pea chimes back in with a genuine curiosity.

“She didn’t really give me much to go on,” Jughead shrugs, stealing a handful of peanuts from the packet Toni has open on the bar.

“Guess you’ll have to go and find out,” she says coyly.

“I still might not go,” he repeats after a few beats, his words met with a chorus of groans.

At five minutes to eight, Jughead slowly pulls up to the curb on Elm Street. It bothers him how easily he’s remembered Betty’s address, and the one next door to it. A swell of sympathy grows for Betty as he thinks about having to live next door to the boyfriend that hurt her. Still, even though he doesn’t know what Betty’s plans are post-high school, he assumes that it won’t be the arrangement for much longer.

He isn’t quite sure how to announce himself, and decides on waiting in the truck for Betty to come out. As the clock ticks over he expects the shiny, red door to swing open but nothing happens. His fingers twitch towards the door handle as the minutes pass by and nothing moves in the still of the night, but finally something catches his eye.

There’s a shadow passing down the side of the Cooper house, scaling its way down the trellis that crawls its way up to the side window. The shape forms into a person, all long legs and loose, blonde hair, finally landing on the porch with a dull thud.

Betty hurries down the steps and all but flies into the truck, eyes bright and breathing heavily. Absently, Jughead notes she’s wearing a pair of denim shorts.

“You came,” she exclaims, still in something of a hushed whisper, body turned towards him on the bench seat.

“Said I would,” Jughead replies casually with a lift of his eyebrows, like he hadn’t spent all afternoon locked in an internal debate about that very fact. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her bronzed skin. “Front door out of order?” he jokes with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of the house.

Betty shrugs, the dusting of pink across her cheeks matching that creeping in around the early evening sky. “This is something of an unauthorised outing,” she leans in to tell him. She smells like the smokey air of summer barbecues, with an undertone of something sweet, like some kind of flower he doesn’t know the name of. “I trust you’ll keep it confidential,” she grins, teasing.

“Scouts’ honour,” he drawls, holding up three fingers before putting the truck in gear.

He hears a light snort and turns to her questioningly. “You were never a scout,” she scoffs with conviction, rolling down her window to let some of the stifling night air in.

Jughead jolts in surprise and wonders what else she remembers about him. He clears his throat, grasping the steering wheel with both hands. “So, where are we going? I kind of need to know,” he asks, bringing them back to her earlier terms.

“Right,” she chuckles, pointing in front of them, indicating straight on. Jughead pulls away from the curb as she continues to talk. “Do you know where Veronica Lodge lives?”

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #just a snippet

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yuudetama · 8 years ago

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Seven Thirty, Uncharted Territory [Part 1] // BTS’ Suga

In which an awkward Slytherin falls for an all-too suspecting Hufflepuff.

Fluff, humour, Hogwarts AU. Word Count: 1.7k.

Part 1 //

Seven-thirty in the morning, and Min Yoongi is already resenting the world. It must be some sort of curse, he thinks to himself as he slumps down at the dining table, that is desecrating either his luck or ability to pass through a day without feeling the need to snap his wand in half. While he acknowledges that optimistic mornings are not normally his forte, he can’t help but feel as though today in particular is destined to run to the ground: somebody has spiked the coffee pots with pumpkin juice- not even with good juice, too, the bloke just had to use yesterday’s stale leftovers- and the Potions essay he meticulously wrote last night is missing the back page. Couple that with a double period of Arithmancy and a stack of unreasonably difficult assignments, and it’s as though the world is serving him a big steaming platter of LOL and get fucked, mate. Scowling, he jabs at a grilled sausage. The seventh years further up the table shoot him scathing looks, but he soundly ignores their disapproval. His housemates aren’t very fond of him, he knows, but seeing as the feeling is mutual he really couldn’t give a damn. Sometimes when he’s lying in bed at night he wonders what sort of bastardly demon could have possessed the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin, of all places. He’s nothing like his haughty housemates- at least, he hopes to the gods he’s not- but he supposes it has something to do with his lineage being among the oldest and most traditional in the wizarding world. A prime candidate to carry on the legacy of Salazar bleedin’ Slytherin. Really, family could positively ruin your life without even trying, sometimes. Just as he’s about to begin his breakfast, a hand reaches over his shoulder and plucks the fork from his hold. “What climbed into your knickers this morning, Yoongs?”

A lanky figure plops into the seat beside his. Yoongi knows who it is but glances up anyway. He’s not disappointed when he’s greeted by the sight of familiar tawny hair and the signature red-and-gold necktie of the Lion’s house. “Just the usual inescapable miseries of life, nothing new.” He watches with a surly expression as his visitor enthusiastically digs into his food. “And I told you to quit calling me that, Taehyung. You make it sound like I’m some sort of pet toad.” Kim Taehyung polishes off the rest of the sausage and grins. “Come on, don’t be like that. I bet you’d make a great toad.” He passes the fork back to its disgruntled owner and snags a pastry from the bread basket. The seventh years snarl at his boldness but otherwise leave him be. After enduring five years of the younger Gryffindor skipping to their table to join Yoongi for the odd meal, they’ve learned that not even threats or aggressive brandishing of wands can scare him off their territory. Despite himself, Yoongi feels his lips twitch. If anybody ever says that Gryffindors aren’t loyal friends then surely they haven’t met Kim Taehyung. Yoongi grabs a platter and begins to reload his plate. “Forget about me. How are you not dead after writing that sleeping draught essay?” “Simple. I haven’t started yet,” Taehyung announces proudly through a mouthful of pastry. Yoongi arches a brow as he takes a bite of eggs. “Nothing in the instructions about it being optional, mate.” “Don’t worry,” dismisses the Gryffindor, popping the last bit of danish into his mouth. “We have like, what, another day to finish it? I still have some time before it’s due.” “Only the third week back and you’re already at the top of the game. Your dedication to academics is commendable,” Yoongi comments dryly, although he can’t help but marvel at his friend’s laidback attitude. Ever since their youth Taehyung has followed the motto of everything will be okay, and, if truth be told, Yoongi feels a little envious that he can breeze through life with such a carefree philosophy. Especially at a time such as now, what with the professors upping their regime in preparation for the gruelling NEWT exams. "You do realize we're already in our sixth year now, don't you?" “No, Yoongi, I didn’t know,” Taehyung says in a long-suffering voice. “As a matter of fact, I’m still waiting for my play mat and colouring books so I can get settled in with the other first years.” Yoongi shoots him a look that says he is entirely not in the mood to deal with unwarranted sass. "Great. And here I was thinking you were missing out on Snape's idea of fun." Taehyung peers inside the nearest coffee pot. "You haven't had any caffeine yet, have you? I can tell because you're never this testy about homework- why does this coffee look spotty?" "Because some idiot thought it'd be brilliant to dump pumpkin juice into all of our pots," Yoongi grimaces. "It's disgusting. I can smell the spices from here." Taehyung dips a spoon into the pitcher and samples the questionable liquid. He smacks his lips together with a thoughtful look. “You know what, it’s not half bad. Just think of it as eight- no, ten- free pumpkin spice latte knockoffs," he says as he goes in for another spoonful. As a muggle-born Taehyung is constantly making references to his non-magic world, something which Yoongi finds both fascinating and mystifying. He has no idea what this latte concoction is, but decides to inquire after it another day when he actually has enough energy to digest the explanation. Before Yoongi can ask his friend to sneak a cup of dark roast from his own table, a pack of Gryffindor girls passes by their seats. "Hey, Taehyung! Are you going down to Quidditch pitch later? Jackson just got the latest Windsweeper and he’s been dying to show it off,” one of them calls out. Taehyung waves his classmates a hello. "No, I’ll be hanging out with Yoongi here. But tell him that I want to have a go at it myself, yeah?” The girls continue to migrate towards the double doors, but not before giving Yoongi an apprehensive stare. Yoongi inwardly sighs. No doubt they're wondering how he coerced their poor, unsuspecting housemate into sitting with the dirty Slytherins for breakfast. He thinks that Taehyung may have noticed the subtle change in his mood, because his friend suddenly nudges his arm. "Hey, you should come take a look at Jackson’s new broomstick too! I bet we could fit in a quick game before third period, if we can sneak out the Quidditch chest.” Yoongi averts his eyes. Despite their persisting friendship, the invisible barrier between their two houses has always been somewhat of an awkward topic for him to cross. “No, it’s fine. I need to go back to my dorm anyway, I’m missing a page from my-” He stops mid-sentence. A group of students are crossing the Hall, laughing and catching the last free moments before first period. All except for the student at the back reading a tattered book. Yoongi watches as you flip pages, too engrossed in your book to pay attention to what your friends are saying. He notices the way you smooth over the paper, running a finger down the aged parchment, scrunching your nose at whatever it was you were reading. The loose curl of hair brushing against your cheek, the yellow-and-black badge emblazoned on your robes- And then your eyes flicker over your book to meet his. Yoongi doesn’t even have time to pretend he’s not staring before your lips quirk up. A smile, soft and hardly unfazed; it’s a movement as minuscule as the Snitch itself yet Yoongi finds it more enrapturing than any Quidditch game he’s ever seen. Taehyung follows his line of sight. “Checking out the Hufflepuffs now, are we?” Yoongi jerks his head back. “I’m not- Who said I was looking at her?” His friend perks up at the sputtered response. “At her? So you were checking one of them out? Don’t worry, I already figured out who it is.” Taehyung’s voice is smug. “The one at the very back, right?” “I wasn’t looking at her,” Yoongi says defensively. “I was just trying to see what book she was holding.” Oh Gringotts, it sounds pathetic even to his own ears. He clears his throat in an attempt to recover his cool. “But since you mentioned it… She new here? How come I haven’t seen her around before?” he asks in what he hopes is a casual tone. Taehyung smirks at him. “Why don’t you ask her for yourself?” Yoongi scowls, but he can feel the back of his neck flushing red. “You know what, forget I said anything. Hurry up and finish eating; classes will be starting soon.” But as he speaks his eyes drift towards the door through which you had vanished. He realizes that he doesn’t know your name, or even what year you’re in, and, because he is a luckless resident of the Snake, he will most likely never have the opportunity to find out. And even more unfortunate for him, Taehyung can read him like a bloody Howler. The Gryffindor’s grin practically stretches from ear to ear as he gives Yoongi a hearty clap on the back. "Come on, you don't have to pretend you're not interested! Listen, if you’re really fond of her then I'll help you out, alright? Consider it my early Christmas present to you." "No, you really don't have to-” Taehyung cuts him off. "Trust me, Yoongs, leave it all to me. I'll have you guys necking and exchanging love spells in no time," he promises, adding an enthusiastic thumbs up for good measure. Yoongi looks at the beaming grin on his friend’s face and sighs. He thinks that his life is a little doomed.

#yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts hogwarts #bts yoongi #bts taehyung #bts fluff #and I am back #and exhausted #but back #I just missed everyone here #I love you guys #ignore me I'm such a lil shit #but yes #hi

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astoldbyacertifiedunicorn · 8 years ago

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#japrilweek2017 has come to an end, and to me and my friend Ann @japril12 decided to write the final fic of our collaboration together. Part 1 will be on her blog, so please read that before you go on to read Part 2 of the story :)

Japril Appreciation Week: Day 7 ⇒ Free choice

“Can you stay?”

She turns back, looks at him, probably wondering if he’d actually said that. He was a little surprised himself. He hadn’t meant to ask her that. He’d just been thinking about how safe he’d felt when she was here, and how nice it felt to know he had someone like April Kepner on his side. Well, if she forgave him, that is. Regardless, there was something warmer about the bed, when April sat on it.

“Jackson, I-” She chews on her bottom lip, seemingly unsure. Of course, she didn’t want to. They weren’t that close of friends yet, and he wasn’t her favourite person right now. She just came in here to be polite.

“You know what forget it. It’s stupid, you don’t hav-”

She hesitates for a second, before she shrugs her shoulders and slips into the bed, and rests her head on the pillow. He notices that she keeps a safe distance between the two of them, and he muses whether this is the first time she’s shared a bed with a man.

“It wasn’t the same as the ones before, was it?”

He looks at her, and gently nods.

“You said my name…” she almost says it to herself, wondering why he was possibly having nightmares about her.

“I saw you this time, getting shot I…” she shakes his head, willing the memories of his dreams out of his mind.

“What did you see?” She asks him, shifting her body to closer to his.

“You got shot, and you were bleeding. There was… there was a lot of blood. And you were screaming I was trying to get to you, and I couldn’t,” Jackson studies her face as he talks, he’s at least relieved that she doesn’t look at him pitifully. She gets it. “It’s like, you how sometimes in dreams you’re running towards something, but the moment you get closer something just stops you and you can’t go further?”

“Yeah, I know. I hate it when that happens.” she says.

“April, listen, I’m sure you’re sick of hearing me say this, but I really am sorry. If I could take it back, I would. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He admits, and he looks at her eyes focus deeply on his, “You’re right. I was a really shitty friend. I don’t really deserve your friendship, but I hope you give me another chance.”

April is quiet but at least she’s not yelling at him.

“I haven’t got much experience in the friendship department.” He admits, out loud, for the first time ever.

April’s brows come together in confusion. Back at Mercy West he practically had a flock of people hanging onto his every word. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never had a lot of friends,” he tells her and she scoffs in that way that where her whole upper body moves and it never fails to make him laugh. “What it’s true!”

“So, I’ve found out your secret shame?” she raises an eye brow, her scepticism dissipating.

“Hey, I can be complex,” he jokes and April giggles and hits him, her hand connects with his chest instead of the sheet which has dropped a bit lower. He notices her blush and pulls it up higher over the both of them. “People were only interested in me because of what I could offer them. It was never about anything else.”

He watches her contemplate this. He really hopes she lets him in once more. It took him seeing her shot and bloody to realise that out of everyone left at Seattle Grace, April was the only one he actually cared about, and he could bet she felt the same way about him. It was probably why she was so hurt with what he did.

“It’s okay.” she mumbles, and he almost misses it.

“Really?” he blinks.

“Yes,” April whispers and laughs much more loudly this time when he makes an exaggerated relived expression and he knows that they’re okay now, “I forgive you.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“I’m sorry too,” she mutters, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket, “I shouldn’t have told everyone about your nightmares, it’s really personal and it wasn’t right, no matter how upset I was.”

She would be the type to apologise for something like that. He appreciated it more than she knew, “It’s okay. I mean, I deserved it, anyway. I forgive you.”

She beams at him, and for the first time it occurs to him how absolutely beautiful April was when she smiled. A comfortable silence settles over them, and he yawns, feeling the sleepiness settle back in. He perks up, however, at the sound of her voice.

“I was so scared that you were hurt. I had already seen Reed… dead, and I just kept thinking how I had to find you because I had to make sure you were alive. I couldn’t lose two of my people in one day.” Her voice is low, but there is an unmistakable heaviness to it. She’s trying her best not to cry.

He brings his hand up to her face, and takes her chin in between his fingers, lifting her face up to meet his. He wonders whether this gesture is too intimate, but he knows that tonight has made them both aware that they are, by circumstance and choice, each other’s person.

“You know Charles is… was my best friend, but when I heard about the shooter, the first person I thought about was you. I just wanted to know if you were fine, alive,” he says, and she widens her eyes, clearly not expecting him to reveal this, “You were my favourite.”

He softly chuckles at how it sounds, but it’s true. He’s always been very protective of April, and although tonight was an exception he’d like to forget, a part of had always been relieved that it was April who’d survived too.

His laugh drowns out when he sees tears in her eyes. Shit, he must have said something that was over the line. Maybe all this was too much for her, because they were just acknowledging their place in each other’s lives, or maybe she thinks he’s lying. His actions haven’t lately been speaking louder than his words.

“April, I’m sorry, did I say something wrong, I-”

“No, no… you didn’t, I just… miss them both so much.”

He sighs, and pulls her towards him. He holds her, and rubs her back as she weeps silently into his shirt. He holds her there all the way through the night, until sleep claims them both.

Jackson wakes up to feeling of April’s hair tickling his face. He turns his head and looks at the wide expanse of cool mattress next to him and then back down at April sleeping soundly on top of him. The sight is enough to make his lips turn up.

He doesn’t know how they got this way but he’s not at all bothered by her presence. It’s a pleasing affirmation knowing that April was holding him close through the night. They would definitely be okay.

He sighs contentedly thinking about how their relationship hasn’t been affected by tragic events. Their legs rest tangled together under the sheets and he feels her arm move from his abdomen, upwards to drape on top of his shoulder. Jackson breathes the scent of her hair in and she pulls him closer.

Jackson shifts his hips a little and its only then his attention moves from April to acknowledge the fact that all this blood has rushed to the south of his body, as like any other morning.

“Oh crap,” he whispers.

April mutters nonsensically, not understanding his distress. She releases a little sound from the back of her throat and it does nothing to quell his situation, if anything it just spurs it on even more. Then she moves her leg and the inside of her thigh brushes against him. He knows if he moves he’ll wake her up but staying in the position that they’re in isn’t at all better. But April feels so soft against him and smells so good, dawn is breaking and its quiet, maybe they could stay like this.

If something feels this good it can’t be bad, can it? No, no these thoughts were bad, very bad indeed.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, it’s then that April takes the opportunity to wake up. She plants a hand in his bare chest to sit up more and smiles down at him sleepily, still oblivious. Jackson wishes he could return it, he’s not sure if he believes in God but if He was up there then he must be laughing at him.

He watches in a quiet panic as her expression changes from serene to red-faced. Yep, she’s felt it. He’s thankful that his complexion saves him from such physical evidence of embarrassment. She goes to get off him and struggles somewhat, the sheets aren’t helping and then April gestures to him.

“Jackson,”

“Oh sorry,” he apologises moving his arms from around her waist. He didn’t even notice that he was still touching her, it felt so natural.

She separates herself from him but stays sat on the bed. April makes sure she keeps her eyes on his face and not the sheet. She feels her face warm up and bites her lower lip. The atmosphere in the room shifts, and all he can do is stares down at her mouth. He hears her breath hitch, and he’s happy to know he’s not the only one who feels this unbearable tension that’s settled over them. He leans into to capture her lips, cupping her cheek and she opens her mouth slightly to welcome him.

Just as he relishes in the feeling of the softness of her lips on his own, the alarm clock blares beside him. He curses, and she groans almost angrily. They stare at each other and begin to laugh, happy that the feeling is mutual.

“Do you maybe, I don’t know, want to hit snooze?” he asks, tentatively.

She beams, and her face flushes almost immediately, probably shy about her enthusiasm.

“Yes, please.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

and thank you for reading all the other OS, and for your likes and reblogs and wonderful replies! I hope it was enjoyable and you had fun! Thank you for everything! :)

#japril #japril fanfiction #japril week #japril week 2017 #japril appreciation #japril appreciation week

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dzamie · 8 years ago

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Fuckton of OC questions: Dzamie

Questions from @liaraliara‘s post here. Doing these for Dzamie, will do more for other characters eventually, whether y’all want me to or not.

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything? Dzamie Deshulian. Dzamie is one of my common pseudonyms (linguistics joke I stole from a family member), and Deshulian... in-universe, he chose that name from a Chinese word for “skill” and the French "de.” It is almost certainly pronounced wrong, but it’s his name now.

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them? Holy fuck does he have titles. Well, descriptors mostly, though he does carry the moniker of Blue Bandit from his attempts at being a phantom thief, Lord of the Yellow Hive from Equestria shenanigans, and some places call him the Reaper due to his high body count nearby (he decided to get a scythe when he heard that, though he didn’t practice using it much for a long time). Title-wise, he’s described himself as a spellsword, archmage, weaponsmaster, assassin, illusionist, and complete fucking nerd. He self-describably “moonlights as a Lesser Spirit of Chaos.”

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? Oh man his childhood is tragic as fuck. Birthplace village burned down, his parents presumably killed or captured, and essentially left with his half-brother (HM) to fend for themselves. Managed to find their way to a really helpful... institution, for lack of a better word. Except it’s a place dedicated to teaching people how to kill dragons. HM happens to be a dragon. Dzamie went anyway, and HM sort of let dragon instincts help him survive, with help from Dzamie. Dzamie was at some point convinced to inflict an ambiguously-large amount of torture on a bunch of dragons, at first because... well, dragonslayer school at the time was fucked up, and later because science. And then people kept trying to kill him, but that’s just... that just keeps happening; it’s not a childhood thing.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? No strong memories. His father died in the fire or shortly after, and his mother is in hiding to keep herself alive definitely dead. No need to look for her.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults? H.M. Deshulian is his half-brother (genetics are weird when dragons are involved). They’ve always had a pretty good relationship, though strangely tempered with a mutual feeling of “I don’t want it to happen for a really, really long time, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be the direct cause of my death.” Dzamie is HM’s favorite food, and HM is the reason Dzamie decided to increase his acid resistance to a ridiculous level.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate? Dzamie was wonderful at the technical stuff, but completely refused the “dragons are evil”-type rhetoric, so he just barely got by, eventually graduating bottom of his class (though the dragonslaying done as the graduation test was definitely the most efficient and least risky of the lot). He’s taken a few college courses here and there, but all after timelines start getting weird around him, so it’s hard to tell when or how many. He enjoys applied math

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? He was completely study-driven, with HM being his only friend - though, it didn’t help that most kids he could’ve been friends with would’ve wanted to kill HM on sight. Interestingly, Kenny was in his year, though they never really liked each other much.

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? Well, he has HM No pets to speak of. Closest there is is Smugleaf, a Serperior who occasionally lets him have her Pokeball and direct her in combat. He loves birdwatching, snakes, and a bunch of other animals.

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? Animals are generally somewhat neutral towards him, though he can regularly get pretty close to wild animals without them caring.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect? No (but he does well with them anyway), yes, no, neglectful, not too bad (just because it’s not much interaction. Facades are tough to keep up over long times)

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies? Will starve without meat. His species generally views bread as a mild poison, but Dzamie being Dzamie, he no longer has to care.

12. What is their favourite food? Brownies, the chocolate-ier the better.

13. What is their least favourite food? Sourdough bread.

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal? Nothing in particular. He remembers being food a lot, especially for HM, but that’s not really the same.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking? He’s amazing at cooking, especially at arguably-taboo meals (though he won’t make anything he wouldn’t eat). He has a lot of fun with it, because he “gets to play with knives and fire, and out comes delicious food.” He’s quite the showman while cooking, which can be hit-or-miss, but most people like his cooking, assuming they like the dish he makes (i.e. he obviously can’t make a PB&J that someone who’s allergic to peanuts would like).

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? He hoards knowledge, gold, and some shiny jewels, which he blames on growing up with HM. Additionally, he keeps trophies - the left horn of each dragon he slays, and the sword of any dragonslayer he bests in combat (not usually kills, just leaves weaponless for a while. It’s a slayer thing).

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos? Nope! He likes to be on camera, but photos aren’t really his thing.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else Books: Fiction with interesting worldbuilding stuff. He tends to visit those places. Music: Anything with a good rhythm and tempo, since he often fights in time to whatever’s playing in his head. Electro-stuff is good. TV shows: No preference, really. He doesn’t watch much. Films: Same as books, though he tends to riff on the films he watches. Video games: Platformers with tight controls.

19. What’s their least favourite genres? Most things to do with rural stuff, come to think of it.

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes? He likes the idea of musicals, rarely the implementation. Music is very important to him, especially as he can mimic male voices, and move precisely to rhythms.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper? He kind of does. He’s pretty patient, and tends to do the silent-rage sort of thing when upset enough. Though, it’s a little bit of a tell that his magic spikes and its color turns from green (pride) to red (anger).

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back? He’s definitely the kind of person who’ll insult someone to their face, either backhanded or up-front. Either directly pointing out flaws (”Let’s get this straight, you thought coming at both me and HM unarmed was a good idea? Did you maybe think the price on his head is that big for a reason?”) or just calling them names that probably don’t make sense if not for inflection (”You absolute salmon.”). Mostly for suicidal lack of common sense.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces? He has good auditory and muscle memory, but can’t remember faces, and names are tough. He knows a lot of trivia, and has memorized a bunch of really useful dragonslaying regulations, but it can be kind of random what he remembers.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress? He sleeps whenever. Nobody’s known when or where he’s ever slept for almost two years now, save for a few times people could make guesses from him somehow waking up in a pile of dragons.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves? It’s really hard to predict, except for puns. He loves puns. He makes a lot of them, too.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? If it’s necessary to keep up a Facade, he hides his emotions well. If not, he smiles, sings and hums, and sometimes fiddles with knives.

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad? Not much, actually. He hasn’t cried in years, and nobody’s really known if he’s sad - even him.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? HM deciding he’d rather not have him around. HM with a large tactical advantage over him. Manic grin, blatant rules abuse.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? Depends on if he likes them or not. If he does, he usually doesn’t bring it up, and warns them if something he’s about to do is gonna be really scary (though he usually does it anyway after telling them how to avoid experiencing it). If he doesn’t like them, he’ll try to abuse that fear as much as he can without letting on that it’s him doing it.

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out? “Does playing with people trying to kill me count? Because if not, all I’ve got is sparring with Kenneth and HM, and occasionally going for really long walks.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing? Nope, but he can act it really well!

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like? He has three modes of dress: comfortable and casual, ridiculously-accurate cosplay, and naked. To sleep, generally just a comfortable pair of PJ bottoms and a t-shirt. Dzamie doesn’t usually wear makeup, but does an excellent job of dying his fur to pass for a tiger or leopard when he needs to have a non-magical disguise.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties? Boxer-briefs, if he’s wearing anything.

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body? Lean, somewhat muscular (but it doesn’t show through his fur at all). He’s roughly 6 feet tall, and makes sure he’s very comfortable with whatever form he’s in - he’s very physically expressive, and also does a lot of things that require knowing exactly where every part of him is.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? His guilty pleasure is probably making up identities to pretend to be online. His totally unguilty pleasures are a good swordfight, casual pickpocketing (though he generally returns the stuff he swipes), and being eaten, usually by HM, Smugleaf, or Sylvia.

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing? Dzamie’s good at... a lot of stuff, actually. He’s kind of a Mary-Sue. Most of my OCs for the Combined Setting are poorly-written, really, so I don’t write stories with them. He likes playing videogames, making his hoard look nice, and bothering talking with HM. And yes, he’s an amazing singer, pitch-perfect and flawless rhythm. Has trouble with female-sung songs, since he can’t just mimic those.

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction? Fast-ish reader, prefers fiction (fanfiction especially). Dzamie enjoys poetry and abhors free verse.

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had? Fuck if I know. He wishes he could learn a telekinesis spell (he’s fundamentally blocked from doing so, ever), but this fosters resentment, not admiration.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? Definitely emails.

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert? “Awake and alert” is his default state, but he’s not known to turn down sugary snacks.

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship? Self-described as “complicated, or alternatively ‘straight plus also into women’” (he has a variety of transformation spells, and form affects mind). Physically, he likes... scales, tails, and forked tongues. Mentally is a bit tougher, but usually stable and steady enough to not go off the deep-end when he, HM, Dream, and/or Kenny inevitably do something... sanity-testing.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition? Dzamie doesn’t have any goals in particular. He’d sacrifice anything but his or HM’s life for, well, his or HM’s life. No secret ambitions, really.

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people? He’s not very religious, though if he had to choose he’d say he “observes” Eris (the chaos noodle, not the Greek deity), and he does tend to celebrate major Jewish holidays (Yom Kippur isn’t really “celebrated,” but you get the gist) and Christmas out of tradition. Nobody really knows where this tradition came from. He generally doesn’t really care about people’s religiosity or whatever, so long as they’re not bonkers enough to try to, say, ritually sacrifice him or someone he cares about, or to try to stop his kobolds’ “cult” at the source by killing Azurel (him as a dragon).

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? Definitely autumn, and heavy cloud cover (but not quite overcast). He’s pretty good in the cold (fire spells just in case) but complains about high temperatures, blaming his fur coat for his crabbiness.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? They generally think Dzamie’s a bit to the side of normal and sane, but almost disturbingly effective. Those who aren’t used to him find him a bit unstable, but HM, Dream, and Kenneth figure he’s surprisingly predictable - just not in ways most people are. He, on the other hand... actually, he’d agree with all of that.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves? He doesn’t usually have the opportunity to make a good impression; most new people Dzamie meets are met amidst chaos. “Introductions” tend to range from “Hey, I don’t suppose you’ve seen, like, six kobolds run through here?” to “Hi. I’m Dzamie Deshulian, but you can call me your worst nightmare.” to “Don’t worry! This spell should last for at least ten seconds, so you should run that way before it stops working! Name’s Dzamie, by the way.” to “Good evening. I suppose I should mention a bit of a hole in your security system. It’s about Blue Bandit-sized, which is going to be a problem about two minutes ago.” to “Hi. Dzamie Deshulian. I noticed you guys used to have a dragon problem with a nifty reward. Note the past tense. Here’s her horn.”

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event? Generally hates them. Plays well, but generally expects a pretty big payoff (assassination target, scoping out a Blue Bandit target, some really good food, etc.) if he’s going to pretend he’s actually enjoying his time there.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? He vaguely enjoys get-togethers, but often stays away from group conversations, content to just watch people do people things. If it’s a party where a lot of the guests are dragons, he can usually expect to wake up in a pile of dragons. He has no idea how this keeps happening.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them? Tough call between his twin katanas, his Dragonslayer blade, and the mana-crystal necklace he wears pretty much all the time. The katanas are actually everywhere he goes as well, but they usually don’t actually exist until they need to.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? His spellbook and a bunch of knives. Everything else can be summoned, created, traded for, stolen, or... harvested, if they’re not the necklace (always on him) or his twin swords (also always on him).

#text #ocs #dzamie #tag

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girlwsoftsound · 8 years ago

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Haunt || Matty Healy Oneshot

Word Count: 2,667 Warnings: Miscarriage Summary: A tough event turns your life with Matty upside down. Author’s Note: I’m really sorry for the tears this probably will bring. I cried while writing it, personally. Also, the original prompt asked for a song, but I changed it into a letter because I am not a good lyricist :/ I think it still does the job, though. Anyways, read on and let me know what you think xx Please feel free to read my other work here!

It was all set out to be perfect.

It started out perfectly imperfect. On a random day after a random month of simply relaxing and enjoying your life with your boyfriend Matty, you found out the big news. You were pregnant. Though he was shocked beyond belief given that you two had been safe, Matty was incredibly supportive and oddly very excited about the prospect of him becoming a father. The man who hated the idea of children stood before you singing their praises, enthralled by the idea of actually being able to pass down wisdom to a younger human, the next generation, the future. His future.

You could still remember the night Matty went into the studio and told the band as the crew. He came back absolutely hammered, giggling and rambling on to you about how truly gleeful he was to be a dad. He explained through a bit of stumbling and slurring that the boys were just as gleeful, hence them dragging him out of the studio to a bar and buying him drinks until he could barely see straight. Sloppy kisses were pressed to your face as you laid down at his side on the bed. Sloppier ones were placed delicately to your stomach, followed by drunken whispers letting your baby know even at its tiny age that it is and forever will be so loved.

And it was loved. All the way to the end.

He was at the studio when you gave him the call. Panicked, pleading him to come home. Something was not right. It was not supposed to happen like this. The line fell dead without a word spoken by your boyfriend. He left the studio in the same fashion, not even telling the boys what was wrong, just knowing he had to get to you. Fifteen minutes of dodging cars and nearly running through red lights later, and he approached the house to the sight of paramedics. His heart stopped, and his hands grew clammy. As soon as they brought you, a crying mess at this point, out of the house on a stretcher, he jumped to your side. Mutual panic met through the exchange of glances between you. Still, Matty held your hand tight and promised you what he had promised the day the test came up positive.

“It will all be alright.”

An hour later, it felt as if it never could be alright. So fast, so fragile your baby’s life had come and left this world. Not even big enough for you two to have heard its heartbeat, yet big enough to make you feel like the world was crashing down around you without it. It’s a tragedy in the cruelest of fashions. Matty held your hand at your bedside and cried with you, sometimes breaking out into full sobs that shook the hospital bed. You wondered who was taking it harder - you or him. As he stepped out to smoke, his shaking legs barely carrying him forward, you firmly believed it was him.

Jamie and the rest of the band found out two hours later, when it felt as if all of the tears in the world could not fill the aching gap in your heart. Matty called them, his voice dull as the grief had turned into numbness. Within thirty minutes of the phone call, the lot of them were there in your room, their girlfriends in tow to give you support. You hugged them tight to you, their soft eyes unable to imagine the grief you were feeling yet pleading to help in some way. Jamie, Ross, and Adam brought Matty in one by one for an embrace, and later did the same for you. George, tears falling unapologetic down his face, held Matty to him and sobbed into the crook of his neck. The sight of his best friend, practically his brother, looking so robbed and shaken killed him. Matty buried his head into George’s chest. You looked to the two with your own tear-filled eyes. The man Matty often referred to as his rock was reduced to a puddle of tears. It truly felt like nothing good would ever happen again.

The next morning, George, who had stayed the night with his girlfriend to watch over the two of you as you grieved, drove you both home. Large yet silent hugs were given by the couple before they drove off, promising to come over if you needed support or help. Matty thanked them for you and ushered you inside. What had been a horror scene hours before, now stood nearly spotless. A note on the kitchen counter explained that the boys had gone through and done so as a way to help. Kind words and love-filled remarks ended the note. Matty folded it up and shoved it into his pocket to keep safe. You thanked him for it.

The rest of the day was spent in bed, Matty holding you close to him, letting you cry or scream or do whatever you needed to to feel somewhat okay again. You fell asleep in his arms, soft shaking drifting off into peaceful slumber the further sleep took you. Only then, did Matty fall asleep. Only when he knew you were okay, or at least not troubled by your conscious thoughts, could he not feel guilty for sleeping. It was the last peaceful sleep you two shared for a while.

The next day started a string of events neither of you could have expected or prepared for. Upon waking up, you felt as if you did not want to see Matty, or talk to him, or even discuss what happened. You wanted him away from you, out of sight and out of mind. At first, Matty had been troubled by this. He pushed, trying to get you to speak to him and not be so afraid, but you refused and only grew more distant because of it. You stowed away in your guest room, locking the door and curling up on the bed in the soft comforter that lay there. You only moved when Matty brought in food for you or when you needed to use the restroom. Even then, you did not speak to him. You simply fell into your new reclusive lifestyle as if it were second nature. That night was the first night since you had moved in with each other that you purposefully chose not to sleep at his side. Matty fell asleep in tears.

As days passed, this became normal. Matty woke up in the morning and made you breakfast, left to the studio or wherever he was sent, came home to make you dinner, and then wished you goodnight before making his way back to his room quietly. It was as if you two had become strangers. You were merely taking up his room in his home and eating his food. You only spoke when words were necessary to him. Deep down, it broke your heart to feel yourself act this way. But, your mind dictated it. Depression did not exactly allow things to be easy. Trauma did not, either.

Over time, Matty noticed another pattern popping up. This one was more subtle, done only when you believed he was not around, yet still incredibly heartbreaking to watch. What had been a bundle of blankets on the floor in the guest room now resembled a swaddled bundle, big enough to fit comfortably in one’s arms...and big enough to hold a baby. You carried it wherever you went, which wasn’t far, but still far enough to break Matty’s heart into even more pieces. You cooed to it sometimes, too. Matty found that out when he accidentally walked in on you getting a drink, and telling it softly that ‘we won’t be thirsty much longer’. When you left, Matty dug into the cabinet for the nearest bottle of red wine, and downed however much remained in it.

What you did not see because of your new reclusive nature was how Matty had taken to the sudden 180 his life had taken. Losing a baby and losing in a sense the love of his life with it, he had gotten back to drinking wine more religiously. The red liquid that had filled his body long ago in darker periods of his life once again coursed through him, numbing the pain slightly. What the wine couldn’t fix, Matty supplanted with drugs and busying himself. He pushed himself in the studio, getting irrationally angry when a note came off flat, or when his mind simply could not come up with the proper lyrics. The boys tried to calm him, but it was beyond their control how Matty acted. He was in pain, a pain that could only be truly dulled with you back in his life. Matty knew that that was what he needed, but his heart hurt too much for him to think of a way to get you back. He needed help. One night after he was sure you were asleep, he left the house and walked down to George’s. He was let in on the third knock, welcomed happily in.

After getting high and playing some videogames, Matty looked to George and let out a sigh, deep and pitiful. George turned to him and frowned. He knew Matty was just about ready to explain why he came over, and he was scared to know the reason. He thought you had finally said you wanted out. What he got however, the whole story of your reclusive nature and the bundle of blankets and the not sleeping by his side, hurt him more than that ever could have. Setting his spliff aside, George leaned in and hugged Matty.

“I’m so sorry mate,” he spoke, sincere. Matty shook his head against George’s shoulder.

“I just want her back. I want her back so I can help her get through this. She doesn’t have to be alone, and it kills me to to see her go through it that way. I’m scared for her and it’s eating me up every damn day that I wake up and she’s not beside me.” Whimpering, Matty collapsed against George. “It feels so hopeless, George.”

George frowned. “Have you spoken to her at all?”

“I’ve tried, but she doesn’t reply,” he said. He wiped his eyes, making them only more bloodshot and irritated. George took them away.

“Why don’t you write her something, then?”

“Like a song?”

“Or a poem,” he replied, smiling down softly at his friend. “Or even a letter. Whatever you are able to make that lets her know your true feelings, and lets her know she does not have to be in this alone, you should do. It’s easy to ignore words, but it’s pretty hard to ignore the emotions written ones give you. They reveal true, genuine feeling from the heart. I bet you that if you write her something, you’ll get through to her. She’s just traumatized and lost. If you can make her see that there is a way out, that there’s someone willing to rebuild with her, then I think you can get her back.”

And so, with a bit of convincing and a quiet room provided for him to write in, Matty wrote a letter. He left the room looking tired and tearstained, but in his hand resided a paper, and with that paper, a glimmer of hope. If he was able to successfully get through to you with the paper, it would mean a new beginning. George reminded him that it wouldn’t be a quick fix, but Matty did not care. He would be able to have you again, and that was all he needed. Even if you both spent the rest of forever crying, he’d still have you to cry with.

Walking back to his flat, he clutched the paper tight. He walked inside the house and shut the door gently, so as not to frighten you if you had woken up in his absence. As he went to your room, he found you sitting in the restroom, staring into the mirror, the bundle of blankets resting nearby. His presence beside you surprised you at first. Your cold facade quickly tried to take over, but Matty stopped it in its tracks by taking your hand into his. It was the first time in a while that you had touched his skin. His hand was warm.

He brought you, and the bundle, back into the guest room, and sat you down on the bed. Opening the paper he had stored in his jacket, he cleared his rusty throat and began to read.

“I’ve always toyed with the idea of life and death and its fragility. I’ve fascinated myself with the emotions and the imagery that come from both brief and fleeting circumstances, and seemed to view them as some sort of game or masterpiece. I’ve calculated the absence of a god, and decided that my life would best be lived focused on the here and now, the present. Ever since a few weeks ago, when life and death were taken and shoved in my face so bluntly, I’ve seen a recalculation, a miscalculation, take its form. I’ve seen myself focus on what could have been, what should have been. Through the spirals of guilt and pits of despair, I’ve lost sight of what humble living I have left to do on this Earth. I’ve seen myself drown too often in the bottom of a wine glass, or in the powders that I’ve smoked, when I should be focused on the present. I should be focused on love. I should be focused on the love we have, and the fact that despite all that has come barreling our way, we still have each other. We still have each other, my love.

I can see you too have forgotten that, have fallen off the path we were leading life on. It pains me every time you wish to speak but find yourself unable to. It hurts to see you carry around a memory of what could have been, what should have been, and let the ghosts in your mind haunt you. Reality is harsh and we felt its cruelty firsthand. Our baby...our baby felt it firsthand. But that should not stop you from living. It should motivate you to go on and live, because why should we let the darkness win? What hold does it have over us that tells us we cannot move forward after tragedy hits? Why neglect ourselves, our lives, the moment the universe challenges us with its callousness? Our child would not have wanted such grief to consume us. I do not want such grief to consume us. I love you. I miss you dearly. I know it’s hard to fight back from this, but I know we can move forward together. I want to move forward together, because both of us trying to alone has only brought us misery. If you agree, I will devote the entirety of my life here on this planet in this universe to helping you move forward. I will never give up on you. I love you, {Y/N}.

Matty xx”

When he looked back up at you, he saw tears in your eyes. For the first time in a long time however, he saw those tears mingling with glimmers of hope and love. Suddenly, he found himself tackled by you, your arms wrapping around him tight as sobs escaped you. You looked broken and terrified, but you trusted him, and a kiss to his lips proved that you also loved him. That was all he could ever ask for. Returning the kiss to your lips, he felt like he finally had you back. For that moment, promise of a better future crept back into your minds. Perhaps, healing would start to begin.

That night, the two of you shared a bed again, cuddled in each other’s arms.

#matty healy #matty healy imagine #the 1975 fanfiction #The 1975 fic #The 1975 imagine #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy preference #matthew healy imagine #matthew healy fanfic #The 1975 #The 1975 Oneshot #The 1975 writing #matty healy writing #matty healy oneshot #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #oneshot #Haunt

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rpchive · 6 years ago

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122nd Encounter-- Slow Ride

nice and smooth

The next morning, a squadron of golems earnestly move about between the kitchen and dining room. The table has been stretched out and set up to accommodate a much larger crowd than usual, and specialized containers designed to keep the food inside fresh and hot sit at various spots of the table. Barbell sits in his normal spot at the head of the table, idly working his way through a sausage link as he studies a couple of papers in front of him, occasionally scribbling here and there. Jay absentmindedly toys around with the scrambled eggs on his plate as he debates grabbing hash browns. Demo, on the other hand, has been eating next to nothing but pancakes and fruit. After a few more moments of writing, Barbell finally finishes his bite and then looks back up. "Alright, I think that's as far as I'll get on my own! Sorry about bringing work to the table, but I find it easier to make notes if I write out an outline first. Oh, how's breakfast, by the way? Feel free to ask one of the golems for anything you need." Demo: It's workin' out. Barbell: Good! Now, I don't suppose you'd mind humoring me about some questions I had regarding kleivenn, would you? You're the first I've ever even heard of, and given what I saw yesterday, you're also capable of some truly incredible feats. alienrabitt: Uhh, sure! If I can't answer, Karumet probably knows. Barbell: Works for me! So, someone mentioned yesterday that a "saa" was created by a wish, and bound to the maker of the wish. Does the nature of a saa depend on the specific wish or its maker, or are saas mostly just variations of the same concept? alienrabitt: What a saa becomes is kinda based on what the wish was, and who made it. If the wish was made with bad intentions, I guess the saa would be bad no matter what; but if a questionable wish was made by a good person, the saa would probably try to act in their best interest, if that makes sense? Barbell: I think so, yes...

He makes quick notes as Jay answers, glancing between him and his paper. "And what about their abilities? Is that also dependent on the wish?" alienrabitt: Well, yes and no? A saa has a couple of different "sets" of abilities; one from the wish that made them, and one from the wish that drives them. Barbell tilts his head to the side, somewhat confused. "So hold on, there are two wishes? What do you mean by the wish that 'drives' them?" alienrabitt: It's whatever they're holding in their oracle; something they can be told to do by anyone, and something that can change in an instant Barbell: Hmm... and what is an oracle, exactly? alienrabitt: That's something any saa-based kleivenn can have; it's what their soul's bound to. Most kleivenn that are only saas have hearts for oracles, but it could be an object too. Usually it has to stay on their person, but Demo seems to be an exception. Barbell: Interesting, and I assume you'd have to actually handle the oracle somehow to change it. So I take it Demo's not a saa, then. Are you one of those "maryen" or however you pronounce it? Demo: Maryein; but no, I'm...one of a kind. There's nothing like me anywhere else; period. Barbell: Heh, your group's just full of "one-of-a-kind" folks, isn't it? I assume that has something to do with that Xentrilis fellow you mentioned yesterday. Does that have any effect other than not needing your oracle on your person? Demo: It lets me summon as many anubis as I need. I can manipulate their sands, too, assuming they're not in their weird bird forms... Barbell: ... Anubis? Demo: ...Do you want an example? Barbell: Assuming it doesn't make a mess of the dining room, I'm not opposed. With an indifferent shrug, Demo summons one of her anubis a fair distance away from the table, so that none of the sand from the process gets blown into anyone's food.

"See? Just a big, fancy bird..."

Barbell looks over eagerly at the creature and then shortly afterward drops his pen, and the mood in the air changes as he goes silent for a moment. "... That. Is not a bird." Demo: Well, it's also a dragon, but I think it looks more like a bird... Barbell: It's not anything like an animal. Will you please get rid of it? Demo gives Echo a frustrated look of confusion, only for Echo to be gratuitously nodding back. Even more confused, Demo dismisses the anubis. "Umm...sorry?"

Demo doesn’t know what anubis actually look like all the time, but Echo does

Barbell gives a heavy sigh of relief as the anubis vanishes, putting his elbows on the table and then burying his face in his hands, causing the goggles to slide up his face for a moment. He takes a few more seconds to collect himself before he finally pulls the goggles back down and unhides his face with a very practiced movement that prevents the others from seeing his eyes. He leans over and picks up his pen from the floor and gently places it next to his notes, then clears his throat before he turns to Demo and finally speaks again.

Barbell: I don't mean to be rude, but that was horrific. Demo: I mean, I know most kleivenn look pretty scary in their true forms, but I didn't think it was that bad... Barbell: You really don't know what that is you're summoning, do you? Echo: Considering the god it came from, she ought to know better, but I don't think she bothered looking past what we do to them to keep everyone else from seeing...

Demo: I...didn't realize I was the one doing that, honestly. I just thought they all decided to quit looking creepy when I freaked out the first time...

Echo: No; they just got better at hiding it. Barbell: So wait, you have seen it? How it has all of those... faces... Echo: Well, yeah; but that's not really something you talk about... Barbell: I suppose not. Forgive me, I... wasn't expecting to see some of those again.

He stacks his notes and clips them together with the back of his pen. "I think that answers everything I had for now. I'll need to write all of this down in a proper form later. I'll leave you to breakfast for now, then. Send a golem for me if you need me. They always know where to find me."

He pushes himself up out of his chair and steps out of the dining room, unable to completely hide the discomfort in his expression. Echo: Way to ruin breakfast, Can Tab.

Demo: Don't...call me that. Collin: I don't think she was trying to. Still, I've never seen him so... shaken. That really must've been a nasty sight to see. Demo: ...It's...not something that's easy to look at. Collin: I'll take your word for it on that one.

I mean I could show you but something tells me you don’t wanna know

Karumet: Uhh, well...what did you want to do today? Collin: I'm not entirely sure. It's nice not to have any pressing issues for a change, but after doing that for so long, it feels... weird to have a break like this. Demo: What, do you want something to do? Collin: I mean, I sure as hell don't want to fight another devil if that's what you're implying. Maya: Well, what do you want? Collin: I... I just feel like we could do something with the time. Like... I don't know, maybe finally get around to teaching me something about Chariot? Maybe we could get Barbell in on that too, assuming you don't need freaky magic creatures to do that too. Karumet: Definitely not, unless I count... Daedalus: He said freaky, not fishy. Karumet: ...Regardless, I can teach you. Collin: I'm not opposed. Though we should probably wait until Barbell's had some time to calm down... Karumet: Can't blame you there. What should we do while we wait, then? Demo: Why don't you check on the kid? She strikes me as the type that's always up to something interesting. Collin: That might work, assuming she doesn't want to work on whatever in peace. Demo: Worst case you go back on the IT and play a game or something. Collin: True. Anyway, I guess I'll go see if she wants company. Anyone else coming? alienrabitt: I'll come.

Paprika: Oh, I'll go too! I'm interested to see what's going on here. Collin: Works for me. Let's see what she's up to, then.

The trio leave the dining hall and head up the stairs in the foyer to Relana's room, which has been helpfully marked as such by a handmade sign with letters that pulse with a faint light. Collin knocks on the door a couple of times, to which a distant voice replies "Just a minute!". Soon enough, Relana answers her door, although she seems slightly surprised at the people on the other side.

Relana: Oh! Uh, hi! Sorry, I'm not used to anyone that isn't Barbell or one of the golems knocking. Collin, Jay, and... Paprika, right?

Paprika: That's right! Relana: Nice! I was torn on either that or Pepper. Anyway, did you need something?

nah, Pepper’s actually one of my mutual’s OCs

alienrabitt: Well, we just wanted to see what you were up to is all. Relana: Oh, uh, sure?

Somewhere between confused, surprised, and pleased, she steps to the side allowing the others into the room. Inside is a rather strange blend of a girl's bedroom and the back area of a workshop. Drawings of animals and places are pinned up on the wall alongside schematics for various unidentifiable gadgets. A stuffed mouse with magnetic hands holds a screwdriver next to a dismantled electrical appliance. The strange snowglobe from yesterday sits on a counter with a to-do list on a pink sticky note stuck to its base. A larger workbench sits opposite of the bed with what looks like a broom with a strange engine attached to the brush end resting on top of it.

"Sorry if it's a little, uh, cluttered. In my defense, Barbell's room isn't any better." Paprika: You certainly seem to be a busy person...but that just means you have a lot of ideas, huh? Relana scratches the back of her head, unsure of how to react to the remark. "Ahaha, I guess? I mean, it's not like it's rare to think up cool stuff, right? I'm just lucky enough to have the right tools to do it. And, uh, the right people to go to when stuff doesn't work right or starts turning into a tornado." Paprika: It's interesting; I haven't actually seen any sort of weather besides snow before. Relana: ... Wait, really? Did you live in some kind of arctic area before now? Paprika: Well, no; there was a...monster, I guess, that was so cold, she made the climate in her room change. Relana: Woah, you had to babysit a monster like that? Paprika: Babysit? No, we just...observed it. Sometimes we had to fight it, but only when, well...I'm getting sidetracked; um, I haven't really been...outdoors.

oh, that one’s...The Snow Queen! she’s got some nice EGO stuff

Relana: Oh, geez, that's... sad. You should come with Iris and I sometime! We've found all sorts of cool places to go around here! Paprika: I'd love to! I've never been able to really explore anywhere, and we usually only go to dangerous places, so I haven't been able to see much... Relana: Yesss! I'll have to let her know later! I've actually been working on a broom for her, but I haven't been able to get the engine to play nice with it yet. I guess making two different magic things work together isn't as easy as just strapping them together, go figure. Paprika: I haven't dealt with a lot of magical things before. I've seen plenty... Relana: It's not as hard as you might think, but it does take some getting used to. Stuff doesn't always act the way you think it will, for better or for worse. In this case I just can't get the broom to fly again once I put the engine on. Maybe it's just too heavy..? alienrabitt: The broom, or the engine? Relana: The engine. The broom can fly just fine on its own, but trying to make it go faster's just made it grumpy so far. alienrabitt: Well, if the broom can carry a person, it could probably carry a little more weight; but not by much... Relana: Hmm... I think you're right, actually! It could carry both of us with a little struggle, so it can't just be the weight! Something about the vis in the engine must be throwing the broom off! Maybe it's the fuel source? I think it's using Potentia right now, but maybe if I swapped that out for Volatus- Oh, sorry, I probably shouldn't start working when I have company. Hang on a sec.

She hurriedly scribbles something down on another sticky note and slaps it onto the engine. "I'll get back to that later, sorry." Paprika: It's alright! You're pretty quick with this stuff, huh? Relana turns slightly red. "W-Well, I... try my best? I just want to... um..."

She seems to catch herself before she says something, unsure of whether to actually finish the thought out loud or not. Paprika: Y'know, I think you're gonna do something pretty incredible. People like you could help a lot of people. Relana sputters for a few seconds, looking at everything in the room aside from Paprika to find some kind of response. She finally looks back at her, trying desperately not too look too proud of the compliment but not quite succeeding. "Th-Thank you..." Paprika: Of course! Um, well; now that we've had a look around, should we check on Barbell? He didn't look too good...

all this flattery is probably just Paprika doing her job as an ex-sephirah and less her genuinely caring, but I don’t think she’d admit that

Relana: Wait, really? Did he get sick or something? Paprika: Oh, no! He was just a little upset, I think... Relana: I don't think I've ever seen him upset... Should I come with you, or is this one of those "adult" things? Paprika: I think he just saw something...sad, or maybe scary...? I didn't really understand. Collin: I don't think he was scared. Sad is probably the better bet, honestly. Relana: Well, if that's the case, do you mind if I come with you? Paprika: I don't see why not! If you're old enough to be building things like that, I think you're old enough for just about anything else. Relana nods seriously, and the group head out of Relana's room as Relana takes point and leads the others to Barbell's door. She reaches up and knocks on the upper section of the door, then waits patiently. A few moments later, the door clicks and Barbell opens the door from the inside.

Barbell: Oh, I see we have a whole group here. Is everything alright?

Relana: They told me something happened that made you upset. Are you okay?

Barbell chuckles slightly and pats Relana on the head, rustling her hair slightly. "Ah, I think I'll live, don't you worry about me. I just had to take a little time for myself. I just had an unexpected trip down memory lane, that's all." Paprika: Those are always the worst. Barbell: Sometimes. Other times they're just... bittersweet. Ah, but don't worry about me. What're you kids up to now? Paprika: Karumet wanted to teach Collin how to understand Chariot! We figured you'd be interested. Barbell: Oh? Is that a sort of language or something to that effect? alienrabitt: It's the kleivenn language! Written and spoken. Barbell: Ah, let me get some paper and I'll be right there! A little while later, a small group has assembled in the same room where Barbell was giving his presentation on the gods of magic so long ago. The same chalkboard has been wiped clean, and a set of chairs has been set up for the audience as well as a podium or two for the presenters. Karumet: This is...a chalkboard...

alienrabitt: Well, yeah...

Karumet: I haven't used one... Barbell: You haven't? What are you used to, then? Karumet: Paper.

alienrabitt: Well, think of it as big paper, but with a different type of stick to write with, and you can erase the words with just about anything.

Karumet: I...think I understand. Is there anything either of you wanted to know immediately? Barbell: Is there an alphabet of some form? That should be a decent starting point, in my opinion. Karumet: Words are drawn with a structure; each word is drawn out with branches and points, like drawing leaves on a tree branch. A safe start is to draw a line, then draw diamonds branching off of it, or interrupting it on the way down. There can also be "clusters" of diamonds in places, three diamonds shaped to look like one larger diamond. The location of these along each individual line determines the phonetic of the word itself. Each phrase is written like a string; each word connected by the line that runs throughout all of them. A sentence would be ended with a circle at the end of the line; however, there are no breaks between words or paragraphs, and there is no other punctuation, often making things look like one large line... Barbell: So the line is a sentence, ended by the circle, and the diamonds and clusters are the actual letters and words within the sentence? Karumet: Yes, exactly! And it's read horizontally, from left to right, then curving if it reaches an edge to be read from right to left, effectively zig-zagging all the way down whatever it's written on. It's very important that the line is never broken by anything other than a circle; all words are connected. Collin: So, how do you know what the diamonds actually say? Karumet: Based on their location, whether they're clusters, or whether they're inside the line or branching off of it. A noun will almost never begin with a cluster; and a verb will always end with a branching diamond or cluster. Barbell: So is it more like memorizing words, not letters? Karumet: A bit. Let's take a look phonetically at the words you know for sure. Saa; maryein; shalvenn; kleivenn; Kujaar...a lot of our words have repeating letters. Clusters signify that a letter will repeat in the word; the location of the cluster indicates where the letter repeats. The start of the branch indicates that the first letter is repeated; the middle means that the letter after it is repeated; and the end means the letter before it was repeated. In a way, clusters are punctuations; however how many diamonds are in the cluster, with a maximum of three, as well as the location of it, indicates the sound the cluster itself makes. Standalone words can be read a number of ways, but the location of specific lines will always narrow the word down to just one. Collin: That... kinda makes sense? This is gonna be weirder to learn than I thought, though. Karumet: Ultimately, Chariot is written with one thing in mind: context. Words written in a broken way can be hard to understand; breaking down the possible meanings of those words helps make sense of it. "Pigs make moon sand bouncy square plates" doesn't make much sense; "humans crossed the desert rapidly at night," however, does!

Collin: Where do pigs and plates fit into that second one? Karumet: Pigs describe the living thing; plates just sounds similar to the word for traveling. Ka-sha-re; ka-ma-re.

alienrabitt: Seems a little harsh to call them pigs, don't you think?

Karumet: W-well, it was a different time when we were writing that...! But it's written with the phonetics; "life, animal, adverse" and human is written "adverse, animal--" well...! Hm. I guess it's written differently now. Let's see; "adverse, animal..." what did they call Lou...modakorra? Mallokama? Horrashaba? What was it...?

alienrabitt: Maddossaba; "adverse, human, kindness." Barbell: What did those other words mean? Karumet: Helpful; unique; ambitious. Collin: Uh-huh... So I guess you just have to learn to recognize certain shapes and patterns, and then where they are on the line is what actually chooses what they mean?

chariot’s a mess

Karumet: Pretty much.

Collin: Yeesh, so there's not even an alphabet or anything... Are there a lot of these diamond-cluster things? Karumet: There's a few different ones. Anywhere from two to four diamonds can be in a cluster. Collin: So I guess you just have to memorize those and then where you can place them. This definitely isn't a "one class" kind of lesson, is it? Karumet: Absolutely not. It's a language, after all. It'll take some time to learn it...this is why most kleivenn came with the capability of understanding any languages the person they belonged to could; so there would be no language barriers. Collin: I get that, I'd just like to be able to know Chariot too so that I could understand it if I needed to. I wonder if they have an English to Chariot dictionary back in Kujaar.

Barbell: Chin up now, this isn't even all of it. They haven't even touched on how to speak it!

Collin: That's... not really encouraging. Karumet: Speaking it is easier than writing it, honestly. Once you learn a word, all you have to do is combine it into a bigger word; say enough words and people will understand you. Barbell: That seems a little too easy. Can you give an example? Karumet: Well, let's take a look at 'kleivenn' and 'shalvenn.' Kleivenn means star forged; so we know -venn means one of those two words. Barbell: "Forged", most likely. Am I right? Karumet: Exactly! See, you can learn it! Barbell: Ha, well it was an educated fifty-fifty guess, to be fair. Not to mention I'm a certified bookworm at this point. Karumet: It's easy enough to speak Chariot; it's a much easier language to speak than to read. A few humans could speak it, but I don't think a single one ever learned to read it all. Collin: Man, the odds are never in my favor, huh? Karumet: Well, you have a handful of people that /do/ know it, and you have a lot of people that know how to build incredible technology. Wouldn't it be easier to just build some sort of...visual translator? Collin: ... Maaaybe? It's worth asking about, at least. Maybe Fawkes or XL could pull something off. Fawkes knows a bunch of languages already, so maybe he could figure it out. Karumet: It'd probably be both easier and faster than trying to teach the language to anyone. I'm sure there's books in Kujaar he could use. Barbell: Ooh, if they do rentals, get a couple for me. It'd be fascinating to look into, I'm sure. Karumet: Ehh, well, is there anything else anyone wanted to know...? Barbell: I think that'll do, for now. If you do find any resources on the language in that Kujaar place, I truly would appreciate if you could bring a copy to me. I understand if it's not possible though. Who knows, maybe I can find something of it here? Kleivenn seem to be able to show up anywhere, by the sound of it. Karumet: We'll keep some eyes out I guess. I'm sure there's something somewhere... Barbell: One can hope. Anyway, you can run along and do something else now. I won't make you play professor anymore, even if it is a refreshing change of pace! [The next day...]

The IT crew shares another breakfast with Barbell and Relana the next morning, but afterwards decide that it's time to move on before they overstay their welcome, despite Barbell's assurances otherwise. The group spend some time gathering their things and meet up back in the foyer closer to the afternoon. Barbell and Relana are waiting to see them off, along with the four thaumium golems.

Barbell: Well, guess it's that time then. It really was good to see all of you, including you newcomers. You'd better visit or at least write to me more often, or else next time I might just have to find a way to you! XL: We have the technological equivalent of phones that can connect across time and space; isn't that a bit better than a letter? Barbell: I... Erm... I guess I'm just old fashioned, what can I say? I don't even really have anything like a phone here, come to think of it...

Relana: Can you put one here? That sounds so cool! XL: Well, it's not really big, so you can just carry it around! It opens up like, uhh...a clam, or something; so don't try to twist it, but...

She sifts through the contents of her jacket before producing one of their communicators.

"Knowing you, I probably don't even need to tell you how to turn it off or on. Dialing the IT, or any of our communicators, is as easy as typing 33. Just...don't try to take it apart; even I have a hard time getting it back together." Relana eagerly snags the communicator and immediately starts inspecting it and toying around with the buttons onscreen. Barbell arches an eyebrow as he looks at XL with a sly grin.

Barbell: You do know who you're talking to, right? But I'll try my best to make sure she doesn't void your warranty. XL: Even if she manages to break it, there's dozens more on the IT itself that we still need to hand out to...several groups of people. Each of us already has one, so you could reach us individually too. There's a whole screen dedicated to private lines, after all. Barbell: Sounds useful! You're gonna have to show me how to fly that thing once you're done tinkering there, y'know.

Relana: I'll try my best, but I don't think this comes with a quill or an inkwell.

LMAO ROAST HIM

Barbell: Oho, you better watch yourself, kid!

He tousles Relana's hair playfully for a second before she spins away with a devious giggle, turning her attention back to the communicator. "Alright, well, anything we can do for you before you head out?" Demo: I think we're alright for now... Barbell: Okay, just let us know if you ever need anything. You've got a new handy way to get a hold of us, after all! Safe travels, kids! The group returns to the IT, where Nydins, Rio, and Paprika softly debate their next destination in the console room. Fawkes: Already have some plans, you three? Nydins: Well, not yet; but I'm sure we can figure something out. Unless you wanted to go somewhere? Fawkes: Oh no, I'm fine for now. I actually had some time to draft up a project design during our time with Barbell, so I'm probably going to work on that soon. I'll leave the course charting to the rest of you this time. Rio: Oh, you're working on something too now? Fawkes: Indeed! Weapon designing left a bad taste in my metaphorical mouth, so I wanted to work on something a little more... gentle? I can't seem to find the word for it at the moment. Paprika: Oh! Well, let us know if we can help. Fawkes: Will do, although truthfully I want to keep this a surprise. You'll see in a day or two, hopefully.

please don’t give Daedalus another flower crown

Collin: Sounds neat! So uh, where should we go now? It's not like any of us have urgent stuff to deal with, I don't think. Nydins: Didn't Azreldeh want to do something with you? Alternatively, we could go to Kujaar and look for books. Collin: Oh right, I'd almost forgotten about that with, well, everything else recently. Uhh, did you ever come up with something? He gives an uncertain look in Azreldeh's direction. Azreldeh: I didn't need to "come up" with anything, things just got a little...hectic. Collin: Oh, fair enough. Do you... want to do that then? Azreldeh: Are you...okay with that right now? You and your boyfriend just went through...a lot. Collin: I mean, we've had some time to just be together for once, and we talked some things out before that too. Assuming you don't have anything crazy in mind, I think I'll be alright. Are you still okay with all this, Jay? alienrabitt: As long as you don't get into trouble, yeah. Collin: I'll do my best. I think it's the other side of the coin you'll have to worry about. Azreldeh: I'm not gonna do anything weird, jeez! Not after everything else that just happened... Collin: Oh I know, I'm just messing with you. But yeah, we can do that whenever you want to, then. Azreldeh: Well, whenever you're ready, I am, I guess. Collin: Will a little bit later today work, then? Azreldeh: Sure. Collin: Alrighty, I'll knock on your door in an hour or two.

Everyone goes their separate ways for a little while to kill time. A couple of hours later, Collin approaches Azreldeh's door and takes one deep breath before knocking on it.

I can’t remember why we decided not to make this its own log

Azreldeh answers the door, her room still in its previous state. "Oh, you're ready already?" Collin: I... guess? I've never really been on an actual date before, so I wasn't really sure what to do, sorry. Do you need a little more time? Azreldeh: No, no, I'm always ready. Already got 'em to move the IT and everything. Collin: Oh, cool! So uh, where are we going anyway? Azreldeh: One of my favorite old hangout spots. I usually took people there when I wanted them to be honest with me; figured they'd open up more in private. Collin: I guess that's fair? I guess I'm just curious about what a demon princess would use as a hangout spot. Do demons build tree houses? Azreldeh: I mean, I guess we could? I haven't seen any, though. Built by us, anyway... Collin: I'm just joking, don't worry. Shall we, then? Shrugging, Azreldeh leads Collin out of the IT, which seems to be parked a little ways away from a hill with a perfect nighttime view of a distant city of some sort. "Not much out here aside from us."

Collin: Wow, no kidding. Where is this? Azreldeh: Some little town Chitola and I used to do our thing in back in the day. Looks like it's expanded a lot since. We'd bring kids that were being bullied and stuff up here; ask em what was going on at home, or school, or whatever; then we'd just...pick who to punish from there. Doing good with bad gifts just felt right, even if it was still dirty work at the end of the day... Collin: Wait, you know Chitola? Azreldeh: Uhh, yeah? I thought I mentioned that...well, whatever. Do you? Collin: Yeah, actually! Back when Nydins... died, Firefly told us about her and what she could do. We wound up taking a trip to the mirror world to find her at this bar that she ran, and she brought Nydins back for us. Azreldeh: I'm sure that came with its fair share of blessings and curses. Collin: Yeeaaah, Nydins came back with some pretty big changes after that, and she messed with Jay a bit as payment, but honestly who hasn't messed with Jay at some point?

He shakes his head slightly, changing his tone to a joke at the end. Azreldeh: That's...fair, I guess. Honestly, I'm kinda impressed you've never done anything weird to him. Collin: Huh? What do you mean? Azreldeh: Oh, c'mon; you're human; you've got a shapeshifting companion with wish-based powers that'll do anything you ask 'em to; how have you not wanted to take advantage of that? Collin: I... I guess I just... never really thought to? It's a really long story, but... I guess in the early days of us being together, a lot of our goal was to just help each other be free of our past and live our own lives. Now that we're at that point, making him do things just feels... odd? I mean, I've thought about trying some things with his oracle occasionally, but I don't want to make him think I want to take advantage of him, y'know? Azreldeh: You're just such a genuine and good guy; I really don't get it. I've seen thousands of humans, but I've never really met one quite like you. Collin: W-What? Come on, I can't be that different from most humans, right? I mean yeah I shoot lightning and stuff, but aside from that... Azreldeh: Don't be ridiculous; every single human in the world has one thing in the deepest, darkest part of their heart that could tempt them into doing something really immoral. Some people would hurt others; or kill things; or do some other questionable stuff; and it doesn't matter who you are, everybody has that turning point. I just...haven't seen yours. I can't figure out what it is yet, and it's...embarrassing. There's no way you're flawless; nobody is. Collin: Well, I'd hope something like that is hard to find! I don't really like hurting people at all, honestly, but sometimes it's just necessary, especially when you deal with the types of people that we do. But... why is that embarrassing to you? Azreldeh: You really don't realize how close the 7th district was to Bandit's son, do you? Besides, I wasn't any demon, I was a princess; I had some serious expectations put on me... Collin: I guess you would have, yeah. But what does any of that have to do with my... tipping point, or whatever you want to call it? Azreldeh: Well, not yours specifically; I just...I don't know, this stuff should be as obvious to me as the color of your hair... Collin: Oh, I think I get it now. Is that sort of stuff easier for other demons to figure out or something? Azreldeh: Well, y'know, demons only interact with humans either out of necessity or out of antagonism usually, so when we meet a human, we need to know how to instantly turn the tables. A weaker demon wouldn't be able to find something like that out easily; that's why most people have middle names that are kept "secret," but someone like me doesn't need to know your name or anything; I should be able to see right into the depths of you as a whole... Collin: Huh... So, is it just me that's giving you trouble, or is it other people too? Azreldeh: It's probably just something leftover from you being tied to all those gods. I can't get a read on Demo or Firefly either... Collin: I guess that'd make sense. Demo and Firefly also had some connections with divinity in one way or another, so maybe that's why you can't figure them out... Although if you can figure out Jay, that might not be the only reason. Azreldeh: I can get a read on...half of him, I guess? The kid that's stuck in his body.

guess I took this as an opportunity to get more of my demon lore out there

Collin: Ohh, that makes sense. So maybe it is just with people who have direct connections with gods in some way, which would make sense given that you're, y'know, a demon. Plus that can't be a super common thing outside of our little group, so it can't be that big of a hassle for you, right? Azreldeh: I guess... Collin: Sorry, guess I got us on a tangent. Is that not really the issue? Azreldeh: You're just so different; I don't understand you at all. Collin: In what way? Aside from the magic stuff, that is. Azreldeh: Well, for a human, you just don't have a lot of the similar qualities...and on top of that, I mean, the crowd you hang around is so overwhelming, and you can blend in so easy... Collin: I guess Aperture's to blame there, at least a little bit. I didn't really have any social contact until a few years ago, and I had to learn to roll with the punches both in and out of that place. Azreldeh: ...At least that place is behind you now. ...For the most part. Collin: Yeah, aside from this thing in my chest. I really need to figure out what to do about that in the long run, but at least it works for now. But uh, I don't know, I guess I just never realized I was any different from other humans. Then again, I don't really hang out with too many of those, do I? Azreldeh: Maybe not... Collin: So... was this the only spot you hung out at around here? Azreldeh: Pretty much. Didn't have a reason to try and make friends or anything... Collin: So you didn't have any friends in the court? Or the mirror world in general? Azreldeh: Nobody in the 7th district saw me as anything other than a princess. Chitola was the only one to ever just...honestly enjoy my company. Collin: I'm... sorry to hear that. Everyone else doesn't really know what they're missing in that case. Sucks to be them, huh? Azreldeh: Seriously... Collin: ... Is everything alright? I'm not sure I've ever seen you so... tense. Azreldeh: ...Coming back here; talking about all this...it's just a lot to think about. I don't usually think before I speak, but I guess that's not a surprise. Collin: Heh, I guess not, but it's really not that bad. It's kinda funny how quick you are on the draw when it comes to hitting on people, even if it usually catches me off guard. Azreldeh: That's the point. Collin: Heh, I guess that's true. But really, you don't have to worry so much about what you say. It's nice getting to hear more about what you were up to before we met. Azreldeh: I guess I just don't really know what a real date's like, y'know? I only got with people to kill them for doing terrible things to innocent kids; so it's kinda weird addressing anything...casually. Collin: I don't really know either. Jay and I didn't really date; we just had enough time and near death experiences to pull us closer together. I guess the point is just to... go to neat places and learn more about each other? Azreldeh: Well, you won't find a better view of the moon around here when the sun sets all the way, so I guess all that's left is to talk until it does? Collin: I think we can manage that. Is there some place to sit down, or is it just sorta... open seating?

He gestures out vaguely to the field around them. Azreldeh: People usually drove up here, but we don't exactly have the hood of a car to sit on... Collin: Yeah, the IT does a lot of things, but a car it ain't.

look I don’t wanna magic school bus my way through space/time

Shrugging, Collin takes a few steps away and then sits down on the grass, looking toward the city. He thinks for a second and then pats the ground next to him, looking over at Azreldeh. Taking a seat beside Collin, Azreldeh looks out at the town. "...What do you wanna know first?" Collin: Uh, I'm not sure... Hm, did you ever really get to do much of anything when you were in the court? I mean, you are a princess there, but it sounds like you don't have a lot of fond memories of the place. Azreldeh: ...Well, I mean...we were so close to the 9th district, that's where Bandit's son was, so naturally everything we did had to be really serious. The heads of the districts were the people personally responsible for taking up the mantle to...deal with Six personally, after all; any demon worth their weight in brimstone'd want a chance at turning that bastard bad. Making him truly evil would've allowed one of us to become a devil too, after all, so a lot of demons were aiming to do terrible things as a result. Same with the shadows... Collin: That all sounds... kinda miserable, honestly, although I guess we are talking about the business of devils and demons, huh? Azreldeh: The closest you can get to hell, honestly. I haven't even been. I mean, I know my mom's there, but I don't see her much. Collin: Your mom's in actual hell? Azreldeh: Well, yeah; she's too...much to be around anything short of greater demons and things that humans would define as eldritch. Collin: I'm... not sure how to feel about that. She's really that bad? Azreldeh: She's...just a lot to take in. I'm not sure any human could look at her without going a little crazy. Collin: If she's really that, uh, intense, then why do you look so normal? I mean yeah you've got horns and whatnot, but you're not like an actual monster. Azreldeh: Well, I have a few different forms; I guess you could say I have paternal; maternal; and bestial forms. My paternal's a lot easier on the eyes, so I like to keep myself lookin' like a pizza, y'know? Collin: ... A pizza? Azreldeh: Yeah, a hot 'n ready pizza ass!

Collin: Oh my God. He buries his face in his hands, incapable of looking in her direction. "Why did you set me up for that?" Azreldeh: Because I knew you'd fall for it!

you married this

Collin uncovers his face, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "How dare you take advantage of my trust and naivety. Did you just come up with that, or did you spend like an hour cooking up lines like that just for this purpose?" Azreldeh: Nah, I'm just naturally good. Collin: Naturally good at being inappropriate, maybe. I'm just relieved you didn't crack a line like that out at Barbell's place. I was afraid we were gonna have to tape your mouth closed or something whenever Relana was around. Azreldeh: Wow, I can't believe you'd do that in front of a kid. Collin: What do you- Ugh, you're terrible. I'd make a joke about locking you up, but that'd just make this even worse. Azreldeh: I can't believe you're being so forward on our first date; wow...!

👀👀

Collin sighs and leans forward, holding his head up with one hand. "I don't know what I expected. Okay, let's try getting out of this innuendo whirlpool. Did you want to ask me anything?" Azreldeh: Um...well, I don't think there's a whole lot I haven't heard about already. Do you, uhh...? Well, I guess that's probably a big no...alright, um...well, nobody we know really had good parents or anything, huh? Did any of y'all ever, like...make peace with that or something, I guess? Collin: Well, I can't really speak for the others, but personally it actually hasn't bothered me too much? I guess that's partially because when I first woke up, I was immediately dumped into a long series of death traps which didn't really lend itself toward introspection too often. Plus since my memory got screwed up, it doesn't really feel like I'm missing all that much. From my perspective, I just kinda... popped into being and went from there. That probably sounds really weird, but I'm not sure how else to explain it. Azreldeh: But don't you hate that? Not knowing where you came from, having nothing to go back to...it's weird, right? I mean, humans have that whole pack bond thing where their families mean more to them than anything in the world; don't you want to be a part of something like that? Collin: Aren't I already? There's nothing for me back at Aperture aside from bad memories. Almost everyone I care about is right there in that vending machine. Azreldeh: ...So you consider them family? Collin: Or at the very least friends, depending on the person. I've known some of them for a long time now. Almost as long, maybe even longer than the time I spent in Aperture, which was like... my entire life for a while. I don't know, maybe it's weird or unusual, but I can't help it. Azreldeh: Well, it's...different, but I don't think anything in that box counts as any definition of "normal," honestly. Collin: A bunch of people living in a flying soda machine turn out to be kinda weird, huh? Who'd of thought? Azreldeh: Well, there's more layers to it than that...hmm...are you worried about what Jay's powers could be like now? Collin: I wouldn't say worried, but I am kinda curious about how different they might be. We can still sync, apparently, so that's a good sign that things aren't super different, but I guess we'll have to find out. More than anything, I just hope he's actually happy now. God knows we've gone through enough getting him to this point. Azreldeh: Well, I don't think he wound up the way he did because he was unhappy; I think he just made a lot of bad choices and got really scared a bunch. Collin: Yeah, but he was unhappy because of all that. It feels like a big chunk of our relationship has just been trying to get him to a more stable point. But hey, he's light years ahead of where he was when we first met, so I'd call that a success. Azreldeh: Hey, I'm just glad things are working out between you two. I know how much you matter to each other. Collin: I'm glad too. Uh, sorry, probably shouldn't be talking too much about my boyfriend on a date, should I? Azreldeh: Well, at this point we're talking about everybody a little bit... Collin: S-Sorry. Guess it's kinda obvious I'm new to this stuff. I'm guessing you've had a lot more experience with this than I have. Azreldeh: Yeah, but usually it ended with me slipping my hands up someone's shirt or down some pants, followed up by a "how 'bout we head back to your place?" and then I had to kill people; so uhh...this one's a first for me too. Collin: Uh... Y-Yeah, I'd prefer this date didn't end with you killing me. That'd suck for a lot of reasons. Azreldeh: Trust me, that's not the type of suck I'm looking for in a relationship.

Collin: God. I am not gonna do anything crazy on a first date, no matter how many jokes you make. Azreldeh: Hey, at least I can still crack jokes. Collin: I mean, I can't stop you. Besides, it's... kinda funny once you get used to it. No one else on the IT says anything half as wild as you do. Azreldeh: That's a good thing! I've never met anyone half as fun as me, anyway. Collin: Well I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best to keep up at least. Azreldeh: Looks like the sun'll set soon. You're not afraid of the dark, right? Collin: Pff, the dark is the least of my problems. Plus I can make my own light if I need to. Azreldeh: Worried about somethin' else, then? Collin: Right now I'm just focusing on not messing this up, honestly. Azreldeh: Look, unless you fling yourself off the edge of that cliff, you're fine. Collin: No freediving, got it. I hope the sky's still as pretty as you said it was. I've always really liked looking at the stars. Azreldeh: We're just far enough from the city that you can see the stars, but since you can see the city from here, it's kinda like there's a blanket of stars on the ground too. The moon looks bigger here too, I think. Not absurdly big, but it's noticeable. Collin: Sounds nice. Do we need to be somewhere else, or...? Azreldeh: No; here's fine.

Glancing back down at the town for a minute, Azreldeh waits patiently as the sun hides behind the other hills, eventually falling out of sight, leaving the pair in a darkness interrupted only by the natural light of the moon and stars; the harsh lights of the city only glitter in the distance in comparison. The moon, like Azreldeh said, is large enough to seem slightly unusual in comparison to Earth's normal moon; a deep, yellow-orange color against the black sky. Collin: You weren't kidding... It's almost like the city's a reflection of the sky, except nothing down there really compares to that moon. I haven't seen it that color in a long time. Azreldeh: It's nice. Like a harvest moon, but all the time. Collin: It's like that every night here? Azreldeh: It is! Or, well, it is every time I've been here. I don't know if it's different when I'm gone.

Collin: Who knows, maybe things are just nicer when you're around? Azreldeh: Honestly, between the doll thing and Bandit, I have to disagree. My...sister or whatever almost speared your brother through the chest; people just go crazy around me. Damn shame, they're not even participating in the main attraction. Collin: Bandit wasn't really your fault. We all decided to try and stop him when we saw how bad things were getting in the mirror world, that wasn't you twisting our arm or anything like that. Same goes for your sister, really. It's not like you were cheering her on and eating popcorn at the time. The doll thing was kind of a mess, but I think all of us have caused trouble at some point or another, so you're just part of the club on that one. Azreldeh: I guess I get that, but...I don't know. I just don't wanna feel like I'm hurting you guys somehow... Collin: Well, not getting us turned into stuff or stabbed by family members is a good starting point, I think. If the worst you do on a regular basis is make sex jokes, I think we'll survive. Azreldeh: Looks like I'm in the green, then. Collin: Oh, kinda off-topic, but I do have another question for you. I've seen you do a lot of different things with your magic since you've been here; is your only limit how much magic you have on hand, or are there certain things that you can't do? Azreldeh: Well, I'm only a demon, so my magic's only as strong or as much as what I've got in my horns; but I can do just about anything with the right amount of magic. Hypothetically, I can do things without the proper amount of magic too, but that can have...consequences. Collin: Like having to go back to your shadow form? Azreldeh: Well, yeah, but it can also do things to people around me too. Collin: Like what, dare I ask? Azreldeh: There's plenty of chaotic consequences to choose from! Nothing deadly; well, usually; but for the most part it's just weird stuff. Collin: Like turning people into dolls weird? Azreldeh: Well, it could be that, it could be anything. 'Cause sometimes it wants to draw power from the nearest source; and, well, most things don't have a source of magic, and if they do, it's not something they can tap into on their own; so a demon lacking magic will try to draw in magic from any source that's surrounding them. This'll kill plants, maybe animals, maybe people; sometimes it makes people sick; sometimes they go comatose; sometimes they turn into other things...disrupting a person's natural flow of magic and spiritual energy can do seriously weird things. Collin: Not too surprising to hear. So is this coming from personal experience, or...? Azreldeh: I may or may not have accidentally trapped a guy's soul in a streetlamp for grabbing my ass once.

I can’t believe it’s not jojo

Collin: Ouch... I guess that was an illuminating experience? Azreldeh: He definitely ass-trally projected. Collin: Good grief, and I thought my pun was bad. So did you just leave him like that? Azreldeh: Well, no; he wasn't my target, he was just a jerk, so Chitola put him back and dumped him off near a bar somewhere. He woke up, figured he got really drunk or something, and went home. Collin: Hopefully he learned something at least, assuming he even remembered anything. Still, I'm sorry to hear that happened to you. Azreldeh: Eh, I've had worse. ...Aaaanyway, did you have anything else you wanted to know? Collin: Mm, nothing's coming to mind really. It's just nice being out here. Azreldeh: Yeah. Nothing but the sound of crickets and birds. Collin: Mmhmm. I'm not sure what made you want to ask me out, but I'm glad you did. It's nice just being able to talk. Azreldeh: I dunno: you just seemed...right. You're something I haven't tried before, so I figured I'd get to know you better. Collin: And how's that working out for you? Azreldeh: I think it is. Maybe a little, anyway. I'm sure there's more for me to learn. Collin: Likewise. I just wanted to make a good first impression, ahaha... Azreldeh: You made your first impression with me ages ago. Collin: Well... first date impressions, then? Azreldeh: Heheh, okay, I'll give you a pass there. Collin: So, did you have anything else you wanted to know? Azreldeh: Mmm, not yet. I think I kinda just wanna enjoy the view. Collin: Don't blame you there. I can work with that. The two spend some time admiring the night sky from their spot out on the grass. As the moon starts to rise higher into the sky, Collin eventually suggests they should head back before one of them falls asleep. He helps Azreldeh up onto her feet and opens the IT door for her, then follows her back inside.

I guess things are gonna keep this kinda slow pace for now? idk if I introduced someone kinda new before or after this

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