#dunno why though...it just appeared in my head out of nowhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iluffyouxo · 3 years ago

Text

†råñ§þårêñ† §ðµl ☾ || Daryl Dixon ♡

the walking dead — daryl dixon x black, female oc

The sun rays burned against my otherwise pale brown skin, seeping its light into my pores to bring more discoloration to my skin. Though, from what I could tell, it was some time past five o’clock, the sky was still as bright and as blue as it was in the afternoon. My vision was blurred as I rubbed at my eyes, squinting just so to be able to make out what I was seeing past the blinding yellow and high heat waves. I could make out a tuft of black hair walking next to longer black locks. “Glenn? Michonne?” At the beckoning of their names, the pair looks towards me and, what I assume, smiles in my direction, too. “Shinra!” Glenn happily exclaims, and I find myself smiling at the fact that I can recognize the people I’ve come to know as family even without being able to see. I’m soon able to make out their faces once we’re about ten feet apart. Glenn’s smile falters as he takes in my dazed appearance. “Shinra, where are your glasses?” I puff out an exaggerated sigh. “I lost them on my last run. I dunno what I’m gonna do.”

“Did you ask Rick if you could go out and search for them?” Michonne inquires about her newly snagged up boyfriend, placing a hand on her hip. “Yeah,” I groan, “But, he says it’s too far for me to go searching on my own—especially now that I can barely see—so I’ll have to wait.” Glenn’s face falls, “Wait…? You’re an important asset to our group! Without you going out on runs, we won’t get half of the supplies we usually would with you!” If my skin tone allowed me I’d be beet red at the flattery that my brother just frantically spat out. “Since when do we Rhee’s compliment each other?” I grin. “Since the world went to shit and compliments became hard to come by,” he chuckles.

“However,” Michonne began, “Glenn is right. You’re important to our group. Now that you can’t see, we’re in some deep shit.” Leave it up to Michonne to get back to the task at hand without a single laugh, I think with a slight grin. “We should go help her look, M,” Glenn suggests. My eyes grow wide and I shake my head. “Rick would have a fit; there’s no way he’d let us go just to find my glasses.” The two glance down at me. “Well, he’s going to have to. Those are the only glasses that have your prescription.” My eyes grow as wide as saucers at the realization. “Oh, man, I have to find my glasses.”

•

“So, where we goin’ n’ why?” The engine roared loudly as we drove past a couple of Walkers stalking out of the woods, a deer leg in the clenching jaws of the one on the right. Despite the world glaring like static right now, I’m fairly certain it looked like my third grade teacher, Mrs. Bluereguard. I shake my head at the thought and glance forward. “We’re going to the grocery store about ten minutes out, we’re looking for my glasses,” I reply crossing my arms. Currently, I was sat in the passenger seat of one of our older cars. Michonne, Glenn and Carol were seated in the back seats while Daryl opted to be the driver (per his request). “Ya lost yer glasses?” Daryl snorts. “Yeah, just like you lost your motorcycle,” I snap back. “Oh, that’s rich, Velma.” I roll my eyes. “I’m the comedian of the year, Streetrat.” Daryl flinches at that and only shifts his gaze my way for a few seconds before turning back to stare out into the empty road. “Yeah, well, whatever,” he mumbles. I couldn’t help but to feel the shift in atmosphere. I had said something I shouldn’t have, and, man, was that a shitty feeling.

The grocery store was a in-the-middle-of-nowhere Wal-Mart nearly fifteen minutes away from Alexandria. Surprisingly, the store was still intact. Stuck in time as if a whole ass pandemic hadn’t happened four years prior. We hopped out of the car, gathering our weapons and bags for supplies, before splitting up into groups of two: Carol, Michonne and Glenn; Daryl and I. Michonne and Carol pulled me to the side before we left to, hopefully, find my glasses successfully. “You need to apologize to Daryl,” Carol starts. Michonne nods in agreement. My eyes slit in a confused glare. “What?” Michonne sighs. “You might not know it but, Daryl cares a lot about what you think of him.” I blink slowly. “What?” Carol hits the side of my head with the open palm of her right hand. “You’re so blind even with glasses. Daryl is so transparent, you’d have to be ridiculously dense to not catch on.” I inhale. “W h a t…?” The pair shakes their heads in unison with heavy, exasperated sighs. “You’ll get it eventually—“ They pick up their things and began to walk away, “—just remember to apologize, Shinra.” Glenn scrambles after them.

•

It was dark and moldy and dusty. It took everything in me to not sneeze in the awkward quietness of Daryl’s company as he stalked around corners in front of me in a hunting-like stance. He held his bow (loaded and ready) in front of him despite the fact that we had done a sweep of this place a mere two days ago. It was only until I saw the blurred image of babies that I recognized where we were. “Here! This is it! This is where I dropped my glasses!” The brunette turns to me and I don’t have to look at him to know that his crystal eyes were cold. I smile sheepishly. “Sorry…I just wanna see again.” Daryl sighs but moves forward, refusing to utter a single word. Did I really hurt his feelings? I wonder as I follow close behind, hand holding tight to the hilt of my machete. That’s when something catches the light of the flashlight that I was shining down to the mud-ridden checkered floor. “My glasses,” I smile.

Daryl bends down and picks them up before swiftly turning towards me. I had thought he was going to hand them to me but he just stared down at the glasses that he held by the edge of its right arm. “Daryl…?” I question. He slowly looks up at me. “D’you—umm…d’you really think that?” I raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Think what?” He looks at me for a while before turning back around. “Never mind. Forget it. Let’s jus’ find the others,” he grumbles. I stare at his back as we begin to walk again, completely disregarding the fact that he never handed me my glasses. Were the girls right? I hook my hand around his arm, the bare flesh sweaty and hot. “Daryl, please, tell me what’s wrong. What is it that you wanna know?” He shrugs off my hand. “‘S nothin’, Shinra.” I cut my eyes at him in annoyance before quickly picking up my pace and side stepping in front of him.

His pale blue eyes glisten and his cheeks were flushed a peach-like pink. There was another emotion other than just fear and anger on his face—the only two expressions that I’ve come to associate with Daryl. He looked sad…. I hadn’t seen him like this since Merle died…or maybe when the prison was blown into a distant memory…? “Daryl…are you okay…?” I was at a loss for words. Before I could think of something more clever to say, the sentence had already slipped from my tongue. His gaze was downcast and he looked even more lost than my own jumbled thoughts. After moments of unbearable silence he finally looks up at me, and it was obvious that he was hurting. “No.” His voice was rough and broken. I could barely recognize it. My gaze softens at his response but, before I could get the chance to reply, I hear Glenn beckoning my name. “Hey, Shinra, did you find your glasses?” I turn around and pull together the ghost of a reassuring smile, “Yeah, Daryl’s hanging onto them for me.” Michonne and Carol show up not too much later. “We should get going, then. We were able to gather a bit more supplies.” I nod in agreement. “Okay, let’s go.” By the time that I turn around again Daryl is already walking away. Well, what the hell was that all about?

•

Days have gone by and it was as if Daryl was avoiding me. I hadn’t seen him since he had handed me my glasses once we had returned to Alexandria without a word. I had to corner him somehow in some way, shape or form. It had taken me a while to figure out but the best time to approach him was when he was working on his motorcycle. At least once a week he was at Rick’s house tinkering away at the vehicle he had recently gotten back from another group of survivors. (Either that or he was working on his bow).

It was some time late afternoon that I had decided to go on a walk and spotted him in front of Rick’s garage. Autumn was beginning to kick in and there were a few fallen leaves that had graced his hair and shoulders as he sat squatted in front of his bike. His bow sat next to him in a protective manner. He shivers as a particularly cold breeze whips by. “Now is a good a’ time as any Shinra.” I jump slightly at the sudden voice in my ear. I turn to the right of me to spot Michonne stalking towards the house. She winks at me as she climbs up the steps and slips through the slightly cracked front door. I sigh and stuff my hands into the pockets of my oversized jean jacket. My steps are light as I stroll towards him, curiously watching his concentrated glare. I tower over him for a little while before sitting down across from him. “Y’know, you can’t avoid me forever, Daryl.” The brunette doesn’t acknowledge my words nor my presence for several minutes causing a heavy sigh to slip through my lips. I had begun coming to a stand, ready to leave and confront him another day, when he grips my hand tightly. “I’m sorry…please, don’t go.” I blink. This Daryl Dixon was way too out of character for my liking. It was beginning to freak me out.

“You’re really starting to scare me, Dixon. If there’s something wrong, ya gotta tell me.” Still he refuses to meet my gaze but his lips do part to speak. “D’ya mean it when you called me a streetrat? ‘S that what you really think a’ me?” His voice was rough and distressed but soft and hesitant. Nothing at all like the Daryl I know. My heart clenches in guilt. “Fucking hell, Daryl, of course not. That’s not what I think of you at all. It was just a joke. Geez, I—you should’ve told me you felt like this sooner, asshole.” I raise my hand to rest at the nape of his neck and I caress the skin there. I feel him tense at the intimate touch and, eventually, looks up at me. “No, what I think of you is that you’re misunderstood…as someone who’s never really known what family is, you’re finally learning when everything is a shit show.” I inch closer and place my hands on his hips. His eyes grow wide and his jaw goes slack. “I think that you’re truly important to this impromptu group of ours…without you I’m sure we would’ve starved years ago, and that Rick would’ve lost his way in how to lead without your input.” I slip my hands under his shirt and trail the past-healed scars of his abusive past along his tattooed back. I feel him tremble under my fingertips, his own hands gripping tight to my arms. He gasps. “I think that you’re a survivor. I think that you’re a fighter. And I think that you are strong. And I will never think of you as anything less. I’m sorry that I made it seem as if I did and hurt your feelings.”

And he kisses me. As inexperienced as I can guess that he is, his lips move sloppily against my own. But I don’t mind. His lips are chapped and soft. And he tastes of cherries and yesterday’s roasted squirrel. It was comforting. Something that I’ve come to know in this clusterfuck. When I pull away I feel a wet sensation on my cheek. I smile slightly and kiss at the few tears that he sheds. “Don’t doubt for a second that I can’t see right through you…you have such a transparent soul, Dixon.”

#black writers #black female reader #black oc #excerpt from a book i'll never write #fanfiction #blasian oc #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x oc #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #ooc daryl dixon #« outofcharacter » ( ooc )#ooc tbt.#ooc character

54 notes · View notes

ca-8 · 4 years ago

Text

Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

'This is it. The beginning of the end.'

Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.

Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.

The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'

The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus.

"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."

'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'

Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.

First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said.

The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.

The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him.

"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper.

"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building.

'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'

It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her.

'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.

...Or, perhaps it wasn't.

A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger.

And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder.

"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could.

His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant.

"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile.

(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."

His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”

“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”

“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”

(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”

As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed.

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’

“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”

Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”

This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses?

A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.

‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.

(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Of course he will!” her backpack said.

The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin.

“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him.

“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”

“What-?”

“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”

Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.

Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'

Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’

“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.

“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”

“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”.

Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”

(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.

His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”

And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat.

“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand.

‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'

Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.

“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).”

“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”

“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.

The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times.

“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.

“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”

Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place.

Except for (Y/n)’s mentality.

She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal.

“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.

And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”

(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.

She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath.

His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.

And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.

(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.

“(Y/N)!”

She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”

She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’

#is this how you write him lmao #i love this boi so much #animaniacs #cartoons #x reader #fanfiction #the reader in this is like 15 dont worry lol #im bored #yakko warner

154 notes · View notes

terrytellyetales · 3 years ago

Text

Leave Y/N Alone!

Howdy! it’s been a while. I dunno if anyone’s done something like this before (there’s probably a few), but here’s how I imagine things would go if someone dares to mess with you. Not a lot of characters since I'm feeling a bit out of touch with Genshin (hence the absence of any posts). I’m gonna try and get back at it slowly.

If you want to check what else I’ve written, here’s the masterlist!

===================================

You just finished with your commissions and decided to do some errands before heading home. Your first stop was the general goods store to pick up some flour and other things. You enter the shop and immediately spotted the flour. As you were about to grab the last sack of flour, another customer swiped it away without sparing you even a glance. That was kind of rude of them, but you thought nothing of it. You still had enough to make bread for tomorrow anyway. Moving on, you went to get a stick of butter to go with the bread you thought of baking. As you were reaching for one, someone else got hold of it and you were left with the deformed one. It looked like the same guy, but you thought nothing of it. “No matter what shape it takes, it’s still butter.” You grabbed your sad looking butter and headed over to the other side to get some eggs. You saw there was one tray left, so you quickly grabbed it before someone else did. Success! “Finally! And these look bigger than the usual too. Lucky~” You were headed for the counter when you heard a huff. “Hey you! I was gonna buy those!” You turn around and see the guy that’s been swiping literally everything you’ve tried to get hold of. Ignoring him, you continue heading for the counter to pay for your goods and walk out the store. You could still hear the guy calling out to you in an annoyed tone. Not wanting to deal with this stranger, you make your way for the fruit stand you frequent.

“Ah (Y/N)! I had a feeling you’d show up. Just in time too. I was saving these for you.”

“Were you now? Haha. These look really good.”

“Of course! Only the best quality for my favorite customer.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, sir. Haha! That's 50 Mora, right?”

You hand the vendor the payment for the fruits as he hands you your purchase only for it to get snagged away yet again by an unpleasantly familiar hand.

"Hey!"

"I'll take these in exchange for the eggs."

"You again? Look, I don't know what your deal is, but that belongs to me."

You were too busy arguing with the guy to notice another familiar face appear behind him.

Amber

Being an Outrider, I assume she has really good eyes. She'd probably be gliding while on patrol within the city (even though gliding is not allowed there, lol) when she spots you. She can tell something's off and immediately descends to come to your aid. She approaches the two of you and calmly asks questions to better grasp of what’s going on. Following the Knights of Favonius handbook, she would speak in a very polite way despite her feeling ticked off by how he’s treating you. Would find a way to calm things down rather than use violence.

Arataki Itto

THE Arataki numro uno Itto and his gang got your back! Gonna intimidate those bullies with his size and their numbers. If the bullies move on from you to them, this guy’s got a heart of gold and nerves of steel. If they start throwing a bunch of foul balls his way and hurting his ego, brooo you awakened something you shouldn’t have. Itto would probably stop you before you do anything rash.

Eula

I imagine she was just on her way to get a drink after a long day’s work when she notices you. She’ll make her way to where you are and position herself slightly in between the two of you, so that the guy is not uncomfortably close to you. He’d immediately recognize her as someone from the Lawrence Clan and start spouting insults about why you were taking what was rightfully his. Uh-oh. It's fine if she's the one being talked down, but when it comes to you, EULA. WILL. NOT. HAVE. IT. Let's see how long they'll last running away and fending off the attacks of the Spindrift.

Hu Tao

She'd probably be skipping happily in the busy streets of Liyue. She’d either be looking for you or on her way to who knows where to write poems. She spots you at the fruit stand and notices you look quite ticked off. Pranks are fine, but bullying is a big no no. Hu Tao won't resort to violence, but would pull off the biggest prank she can for the next few days with a target in mind.

Sangonomiya Kokomi

You can bet your bottom Mora she’s walking around Watatsumi surrounded by the people who adore her and need her help. She’d probably be talking to someone about preparations for some big event when her train of thought is interrupted by the sound of your angry voice. She pushes through the crowd and makes her way to the two of you. As much as she’d like to get angry for your sake as well, she has to remember her position and remain calm. She needs to have an unclouded mind to be able to properly assess the situation and handle it the way a Divine Priestess of Watatsumi would. Being able to plan for every scenario she can come up with, she’d have a comeback for whatever “excuse” (and insult) this guy throw at you. When the matter is settled, she’ll ask you to meet with her at her hideout where she’ll lose it (just a little bit.) You’re an important friend, after all. Of course she’d be upset for you.

Lisa

It was one of those days where Lisa had to go outside and retrieve some overdue books herself. She wasn’t in the best mood because of how much effort it took to retrieve some of them. She was on her way back to the library for a well deserved break when she spots you. The sight of you seemed to melt some of her troubles away. She thought of inviting you over for some tea when that big brute came in and snagged your apples. Her mood took a shift for the worse (again). Who would dare cause problems for you right in front of her eyes? She continues making her way towards you, electro energy filling the air, causing the sky to darken and hairs on your skin stick up. She lightly taps on the man’s shoulder and commands him to unhand you in a stern voice. He was about to tell her to mind her own business when he turns around to see the usually smiling Librarian had a scary look on her face. It was then he noticed the bolts of electricity filling the air and her fingertips. Realizing it wasn’t an empty threat, she gulps, places the bag of apples in your hands, and runs away as fast as he can.

Yanfei

This legal advisor was just out on a stroll in the night market when she overheard the two of you arguing over some eggs. Regardless if she recognized you or not, she’d go investigate to see if there’s mora to be made anyone in need of her services. She’d approach the both of you and ask what the problem was. She’d listen attentively and take note of every detail. Even if you two are quite close, she’d make sure to handle this like the pro she is. Seeing how this isn’t your fault (as she suspected) she would give him a good lecture about laws related to ownership of purchased goods and the such until he backs off. What in Teyvat would you do without her?

Yoimiya

She’d make very good use of her chatty personality. She’d most likely be chatting away with someone within the area when she’s interrupted by the shouting. Would probably act as a mediator and encourage you to talk things out, to clear out any misunderstanding or whatever caused this predicament you’re in. Seeing how he refuses to cooperate, she won’t give up. Yoimiya believes in the power of words and that communicating is the key for everyone to get along. It would come to the point where she struck something within him and he just starts opening up about his troubles and what could have caused him to act the way he did. (Yoimiya the couselor, lesgoo)

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Bonus

I’m so excited for her release!!

Kuki Shinobu

She’s probably out looking for Itto when she hears the commotion. Thinking the oni was involved, she’d quickly look for the source and see you. Seeing how you’re in a bit of a pickle with a complete stranger, she’d reach down for her sandal and send it flying towards the guy’s head to get his attention off of you. Confused, both of you would check the direction the sandal flew from and you’d see a familiar green haired girl wearing a mask with a very scary look in her eyes. Welp, it was nice knowing you, sir (not really). RIP.

====================================

Thanks so much for taking the time to read! As always, comments and suggestions would be appreciated. If you’ve read this far and want to make a request... I am still thinking about it since I’m not too confident how well I’d be able to meet anyone’s expectations... My asks are open though (I think? I know I fixed that!!) so feel free to drop something there. Until next time!

22 notes · View notes

lunar-wandering · 4 years ago

Text

“hey google? whats social interaction?”

two fics in one day hell yeah. this time it’s for an AU i don’t think i’ve talked about here, called the Shy!Wukong AU, in which 500 years of isolation had the consequence of absolutely destroying Wukong’s social skills and confidence.

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on Ao3

When MK arrived on Flower Fruit Mountain that afternoon, it was quiet. He walked around for a few minutes, enjoying the silence, a big difference from the constant sound of the city, before sighing.

He walked over and leaned against a tree, barely hearing the soft intake of breath from behind it.

"I know you're there, Monkey King." He sighed again, taking the staff out and twirling it. "I could see your tail y'know."

Wukong slowly emerged from behind him, walking around the tree to stand just outside of MK's reach. MK purposefully didn't look at him, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that his mentor was avoiding eye contact.

"Ah, uh, yeah uh, hey bud." Wukong said, "I uh, didn't know you were here-"

"You were meant to come hang out with me and my friends today." MK said, and Wukong slumped. "I understand having some days were you're just not up for interacting, but this is the third time. ...Why won't you interact with my friends?"

He asked this as gently as he could, but still Wukong shrunk back a little.

"They....they can sense weakness..." Wukong muttered, and now MK did look at him, with confusion.

"Wh- no they don't- well, Mei might, but still." He pushed off the tree, turning to face Wukong fully. "You seriously need to get some more social interaction- it'll help you be more confident again!"

Wukong opened his mouth as though to speak-

"Fighting Macaque that one time doesn't count as social interaction." MK deadpanned, watching unimpressed as Wukong nervously scratched the side of his face. "....Tell you what, if you come with me and Mei shopping tomorrow, I'll get off your case for a week. Does that sound okay?"

"...Yeah..." Wukong quietly gave his assent, and MK beamed.

"Great! Now, are we going to do training?"

"I didn't plan anything out though...."

"That's okay, we can just spar!"

Wukong was 20 minutes late.

MK glanced at his watch again just to make sure that he was reading the time right, before looking back over to Mei. She was playing some game or other on her phone, looking bored.

"Y'know, I'm starting to think Mr. Monkey King might be scared of me." Mei said after another minute went by with still no sign of Wukong.

"Honestly, you might not be too far off from the truth there." MK admitted, "I was half expecting him to at least send a clone, but he must know that I catch on to that immediately now."

"Do you think he's alright?" Mei put her phone back in her pocket, now glancing at the sky with concern. "Like, he didn't freak too much over it and hole himself up in his room or something again, did he?"

"No, he's already met you once, so I don't think it'd be that bad again." MK pulled the staff out of his pocket, contemplating for a moment. "...Hey Mei, how would you like a trip to Flower Fruit Mountain?"

"I would love to." Mei smirked, before turning around and entering the mall, grabbing hold of the back of MK's hoodie to drag him in along with her. "But first, we're gonna need some supplies!"

When MK and Mei arrived on Flower Fruit Mountain, it was once again quiet.

"Okay." MK shifted the bag he was carrying on his arm, adjusting his grip. "He's probably up in his little house behind the waterfall. He probably knows we're here by now, so..."

"So all we have to do is find him." Mei finished, "Don't worry MK, I remember the plan."

"Right. Okay." They passed through the water fall, walking through the cave. Standing in front of Wukong's door, MK set his bag on the ground in order to lift his arm and knock.

One of the younger monkeys opened the door.

"Hey there!" MK said, "Is Monkey King here?"

The tiny monkey chitters out a response MK interprets as yes, moving aside to let Mei and MK through. Mei easily finds her way into the kitchen, and MK can hear the clattering of some pots and pans as she shuffles things around (they'd bought some hot chocolate, and apparently Mei refused to wait any longer before making it). MK, meanwhile, sets his bag down by the door and starts looking for Wukong.

It ends up not being very hard really, as he finds his mentor laying on the couch, a blanket pulled over top of his head, his tail poking out and resting on the floor, stiff.

...Too stiff.

"Monkey King?" MK asks, and he sees the fur on Wukong's tail bristle, but yet the monkey himself doesn't move. "I know you're awake."

Wukong says something entirely incoherent.

"Me and Mei are here to have a sleepover, if you're wondering." MK says, "Since you didn't come shopping with us."

There's no response.

Suddenly Mei curses, and there's a loud clatter in the kitchen. MK turns, suitably distracted.

"Y'alright?" He yells.

"Fine! Monkey King just has horrible sorting skills is all!" Is the response he gets, and MK quietly chuckles because, well, she's not wrong.

When he turns back around, Wukong is out from under the blanket, standing up, his usual nervous smile plastered on his face.

...But something's off. His back is too straight, for one, the Monkey King that MK knows is normally slightly slouched. The look in his eyes doesn't show shyness either, rather an attempt at faking being shy.

MK makes his deduction in less than a second.

"You're a clone aren't you."

"Oh thank heavens." The Wukong clone, relaxes just slightly, the nervous smile slipping off in favor of a more relaxed, natural one. (One that, notably, MK has only seen on Wukong's clones. Well, he thinks he saw his mentors real smile once, but Wukong had left rather fast after that, so MK had never been actually sure.) "I wasn't sure how long I could pretend to be nervous for."

"He's trying to bail again, huh." MK said, not even surprised, having mostly known this would happen. 500 years by himself had really taken it's toll on the Monkey King, MK still wasn't sure how exactly Wukong had lost his confidence, but the consequences of whatever it was were fairly obvious. It had taken forever for MK to actually get his mentor to just have normal conversations with him instead of just leaving him sticky notes with instructions on them. During that time, Wukong had run away from MK *multiple* times.

Well, not tonight. MK personally respected Wukong's lack of knowledge on how to be social, and knew first hand the experience of not feeling up to interacting with people. But if Wukong didn't at least try to step over his comfort zone, then he'd never become confident again.

Wukong's clone seemed to have the same idea, as he turned, walking off down a hallway. MK heard a door open- followed by a yelp of betrayal, and then the clone was back, carrying a flustered Monkey King over his shoulder, dumping him onto the couch before vanishing, just as Mei entered the living room with a tray covered in candies, as well as three mugs of hot chocolate.

"Did I miss anything?" She asks, setting the tray down on the coffee table, before sitting on the couch to the left of Wukong. The Monkey King actually squeaked, shifting to move to the other side, only to be stopped by MK sitting on his right. Almost as though they'd planned it, they both leaned up against Wukong simultaneously, feeling how he stiffened at the sudden contact.

"Did you get the remote?" Mei asked, sipping at her hot chocolate.

"Yep." MK held the remote up with one hand, easily accessing Wukong's Netflix account. (He'd accidentally stumbled upon the password one of the times the monkeys had shoved him into the house in an attempt to help him interact with Wukong.) "What do you want to watch?"

"Hm, dunno. What do you think, Mr. Monkey King?"

Wukong didn't respond. He still hadn't relaxed either. His eyes looked slightly unfocused, and MK could practically hear the computer crashing noises.

Jeez. Wukong was a lot more touch-starved than he had thought.

And then Wukong moved, sliding down a little, covering his face with his hands. Mei and MK shared a look of concern.

Maybe this much contact was a bit too much to start?

MK leaned away from Wukong, putting just the slightest bit of distance between them, Mei following his lead soon after.

They were both quiet for a moment, silently considering what to do next as Wukong continued to not look at them.

...And then Mei grabbed the pillow behind her, slowly raising it over her head.

MK barely had the time to register what she was doing before the pillow smacked him in the face.

Mei burst out laughing at MK's surprised look, jumping up off the couch, pulling more pillows out of...somewhere. MK hadn't seen her grab them, but they were certainly there now.

He ducked down, sliding off the couch as a pillow soared over his head, flopping against the couch cushions, having not met it's target. He barely managed to shift out of the way of a second pillow, catching a third before it could hit him in the chest.

"Oh it is on!" He cheered, spinning around before throwing the pillow at Mei as hard as he could.

Soon enough the pillow fight increased to all out warfare, more pillows seemingly appearing out of nowhere. MK laughed, nearly forgetting about Wukong-

And then a pillow hit him in the back of the head.

Both he and Mei paused, knowing for a fact that Mei hadn't thrown it, she was in front of him, getting him from behind was impossible.

MK turned around just in time to see Wukong create another pillow out of one of his hairs and throw it.

When MK pulled the pillow off of his face, he was greeted with Wukong's nervous smile, and a bit of anxious laughter.

MK glanced at Mei.

Well. This wasn't exactly the way they had planned to help Wukong come out of his shell a bit, but it could work.

Sleepovers became more frequent after that. Typically they ended up with just a pillow fight, but still, it was some progress, however small.

MK and his friends were more than content to take things slow, let Wukong relearn how to socially interact and overcome his shyness the normal way.

And then New Years happened.

Wukong was still definitely not comfortable interacting with anyone other than Mei, MK, and Sandy, but he did start showing up a bit more frequently. (MK had noticed that Wukong tried his hardest to be more confident around Pigsy. He wasn't sure as to why Wukong did so, but he did. Pigsy himself seemed concerned about it as well, but for the most part let it slide). MK sometimes couldn't help but feel that his mentor seemed a bit...worried about something. But whenever he asked, Wukong would just clam up, sometimes even going so far as to distract MK before teleporting away.

But whatever. It was fine, they were making progress. Wukong was actually somewhat talking to people now, albeit he was still quiet, and easily flustered at the smallest of things. (Tang had briefly mentioned how impressive Wukong's feats were in an offhand sentence, and the Monkey King had practically shut down for an entire half an hour.)

...Unlike MK and the others however, Demon Bull King was more than slightly concerned.

The New Years Incident had been his first time seeing the Monkey King since 500 years ago, and needless to say, he was not what he expected.

He remembered Wukong being boastful, confident, easily coming up with snarky quips left and right.

So it was definitely a shock when, instead of annoyingly chatting or created stupid jokes while captured by Spider Queen, Wukong had simply sat there, quiet, a light blush dusting his face as he sulked, embarrassed over having gotten caught.

Demon Bull King could only wonder what in the world could've happened that would've rendered the Monkey King so shy.

He'd shared his concerns with his family, of course, in a roundabout, thinly veiled way. (He had been fairly certain that the monkey of the conversation had actually been spying on them at the time). Princess Iron Fan had commented about seeing Red Son in a slightly similar state, considering how he never could seem to hold an actual conversation with MK or Mei, instead always challenging them to a battle. (She was concerned, for her son. She'd known that staying in his lab, working on inventions day in and day out would definitely be bad for his social skills, but Red Son had been so stubborn at the time that there'd been nothing she could do.)

Red Son, of course, entirely missed hearing the conversation about himself.

He did however, hear the one about Wukong.

Which, of course, led to-

"Wake up, simian!"

Wukong startled, rolling out of bed, falling to the floor, his blankets falling on top of him and obscuring his vision. He scrambled for a minute, trying to get his bearings as he struggled with the blankets, trying to clear his vision.

A light laugh made him freeze, suddenly glad for the blankets covering him as he felt his face flush as he realized he wasn't alone.

"Seriously? This is the great, powerful Monkey King everyone is afraid of?"

It took a moment for him to place the voice, slowly lifting the blankets up, keeping his head hung low as he checked to make sure.

Bright red jacket. The faint smell of smoke.

Red Son.

Wukong looked away, trying to pull up every inch of confidence he'd regained.

"....How'd you get into my house?" Is what he ended up saying, and he mentally patted himself on the back for not having his voice break mid sentence.

"Please, it's not like it's that difficult."

"There's a whole entire waterfall sealing the place."

"Which is very easy to by pass if you know how."

Wukong couldn't come up with a response for that, instead forcing himself to stand up, trying to put a normal smile on his face, but knowing it would probably only end up being his usual nervous one.

"Uh, um. Why are you here?" He finally asked.

"Well, uh, my father is worried about you so I'm here to help you or....whatever.... something like that..." Red Son said, getting a bit quieter and trailing off towards the end of his sentence.

"I-" Suddenly, irritation overcame Wukong's shyness and anxiety. "You- you're just as bad as I am!"

(Demon Bull King had been right. Wukong had been spying on them during that conversation. He'd originally planned on going over to talk to them, but then, well, as usual he'd panicked, and ended up listening in the rafters while waiting for an opportunity to leave unnoticed.

...That had been a long day.)

Red Son spluttered for a moment, before pulling himself together.

"I am not." He hissed, the edges of his hair sparking.

"You socialize with my successor by fighting him because you don't know how to ask him and Mei to hang out outside of battling." Wukong deadpanned, "And no, battles do not count as social interaction, according to MK."

There was a pause, where they both went silent, staring at each other, waiting for the next move.

An hour later, and they were both sitting on the floor of Wukong's bedroom, both of them looking slightly frazzled.

"I mean, just." Red Son said, "How do you talk to people?!"

"I literally have no idea." Wukong sounded just as stressed and dismayed as Red Son. "I mean, MK and his friends have been trying, and like, I guess it's been working, because they haven't complained about me yet, but still, just, what is social interaction??"

"I don't know!" Red Son groaned, holding his head in his hands. "If- if only we had someone who was really good at social interaction, someone we could copy-"

"Like MK?" Wukong asked, before immediately dismissing the idea in his next sentence. "No, no, he'd pick up on what we're doing and either make us stop or call us out on it way too fast...."

"Agreed, we definitely cannot use the Noodle Boy or his friends as an example." Red Son muttered, "But....to be honest with you, I don't know many other people."

"...Me either." Wukong flopped backwards to lay on the floor, both of them sighing in defeat.

And then Wukong, tensed sitting back up, a thoughtful but also very reluctant look on his face.

"...Actually, there is one person we might be able to go to..."

"...What's being social?"

Wukong and Red Son both looked at their last hope of a savior in dismay.

Macaque stared back with an equivalent amount of confusion.

The three of them sat in the middle of a small park, partially hidden from passerby by a line of bushes. Macaque wasn't even entirely sure how he'd gotten there, and wasn't even close to having a clue as to what was going on.

"What do you mean you don't know- you socialize literally every day!" Wukong threw his hands up into the air, in a mixture of anger and defeat.

"You alone are literally responsible for over half of the city's parties." Red Son added, "How can you not know how to be social when you're the perfect example of a social butterfly?"

"I don't know." Macaque shrugged. If anything, this reaction seemed to cause Red Son and Wukong more distress.

"So you're saying you.... don't actually know how to socially interact?"

"Uh, no?" Macaque leaned back, crossing his arms. "I kinda just go along with whatever happens so- wait why are you crying."

Red Son looked to his left to see that, oh, uh, Wukong was crying. He didn't seem like he wanted to be, if the way he was hiding his face behind his hands and trying to muffle his sobs was any indication, but he definitely was.

"You were our last hope of understanding social interaction." Wukong muttered, voice muffled by his hands. Red Son awkwardly hovered his hand over Wukong's shoulder, knowing that the other still wasn't entirely used to touch.

"...Aren't the both of you interacting with me ri-" Macaque was abruptly cut off as something grabbed him by the back of his scarf, pulling him back into the bush. Red Son was too focused on Wukong, and Wukong was too busy trying to stop crying, to notice the sudden disappearance.

Macaque landed on his back, spitting out a stray leaf as he looked up at MK. (He'd known Wukong's successor was spying on them, he'd heard him hide behind the bush. Still though, randomly grabbing him was a little bit annoying).

"You can't tell them that they're socially interacting." MK hissed, quiet enough that the other two couldn't hear him. Macaque raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Any particular reason as to why?"

"If you tell them they're actually interacting it's like- it's like Cinderella when the clock hits midnight, they both go back to being easily flustered recluses." MK said, "You've got to keep them going without realizing what they're doing for as long as possible."

"...Okay???" Honestly, this didn't clear things up for Macaque at all, but he wasn't going to try and argue with MK now.

MK let go off his scarf, and Macaque returned to his position in front of Wukong and Red Son, adding an extra glamour over top of himself so that his little trip through the bush would be entirely unnoticeable. Funnily enough, neither of them seemed to have noticed his temporary disappearance.

"So uh....wanna keep not-socializing with me at that cafe over there?" Macaque pointed over his shoulder at a nearby place he liked to visit. If he was going to do this, he was going to need another dose of caffeine. "I can maybe try and figure out some tips for you?"

"Yes please." Wukong and Red Son said in sync, already standing up and moving towards the cafe. Macaque stood up shortly after them.

Quietly, watching them walk in front of him, he thought; 'They're idiots.'

"Wukong, why are you hiding your face, Red Son's the one that just face planted while walking through a door!"

The Monkey King's response was completely incoherent, afflicted with second-hand embarrassment. Both he and Red Son refused to look Macaque in the eye.

The shadow monkey sighed, almost tempted to teleport away to find somewhere nice to scream.

MK better find a good way of paying him back for this.

#Monkie Kid #my writing #Shy!Wukong AU

135 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Black Ice (one-shot)

Synopsis: Black ice is considered one of the most dangerous winter weather phenomenon. It appears after it’s rained or snow has melted and then the rapidly cooling air freezes it, leaving it as a shiny black mirror on the ground. A deadly shiny black mirror.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of hospitals and injuries

Word count: 8852

“God, Harry, it’s just one night!” Y/N exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “One fucking night I wanna go out with my friends and have some fun. Is that really too much to ask?”

“I haven’t seen you in two months!” he snapped back. “So, please fucking forgive me that I wanna spend a night in with my girlfriend and have her say ‘no’ one time, and make me a priority. Is it so hard to reschedule?”

“Yes, Harry it is!” Y/N stood her ground. “Adam and I have been talking about this for three weeks before we could set a date and meet up. He fucking flew out here! To London! And it’s not my fault you haven’t been home in two months, so don’t put that on me.”

“No,” he shook his head pointing a finger at her. “Don’t pull that shit on me. You knew about my job, you know how it can be, how much I have to travel.”

“I get that, and I’d get your anger if I was fucking off with my friends on our anniversary without any notice or some shit, but I’m not! I made these plans ages ago. I told you about them! How could I have known you’d decide to ‘surprise’ me a week early?”

But the thing for Harry was – he did think there was an anniversary to celebrate. It wasn’t an official one, and he hadn’t told Y/N how much the date meant, but that day was the day they’d met a year prior.

***

He was in the middle of filming ‘Darling Don’t Worry’. This time they'd flown out of California to shoot a scene in the middle of the woods, in the cold of November, which as exciting as it was to have his acting career flourish, Harry wasn't too happy about freezing his ass off in the middle of nowhere.

Y/N, however, lived right next to those woods, her family house having been there for generations, while the location scouts of the movie had chosen the location because the aesthetic could double as the location of the woods behind the mansion.

Y/N’d been out on her daily run (well, daily complaining because Y/N, with all her being, hated running, and thought it was a sign you were a masochist. But her best friend Adam loved running and hated going alone, so he bribed her with the promise of pizza afterwards), when they’d run into pitched white tents, filming equipment and barriers encasing a part of the path they were on.

Adam’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowed his pace, and Y/N thanked god for that because she felt like she was about to pass out.

“What’s going on here?”

“Dunno,” Y/N huffed. “But we should probably leave.”

But instead, Adam grabbed her by the bicep, dragging her forward to the set. “Nope. Come on.”

“Adam!” she hissed. “What the fuck are you – “

“Hi!” He flashed a woman standing by the railing a smile. “Could you-uh-tell us what’s going on? Why’s the path blocked?”

“A movie’s being filmed. Sorry for the disturbance.”

“Mhm, and when do you think you’ll be leaving?”

That she hadn’t expected, given how typically when people saw a movie set, they’d be more than intrigued in getting into a shot or finding out about who were the stars, not when they’d be going away.

“Oh, uh,” she stammered. “I’m not too sure. Depends if the snow starts falling and how much we manage to shoot. Sorry. But uh, would you be so kind and find a path around?”

Y/N jumped in, flashing her a kind smile. “Yes, thank you. So sorry to have disturb –“

“You do realise this is a public place?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “We have a right to be here.”

“Adam, shut up,” Y/N groaned. “We can run around them, it’s not a big deal.”

“But this is our route!”

“Adam for fuck’s sake! It’s the woods, you don’t own them!”

“Exactly!” he said. “And neither do they! They have no rights to infringe on our ability to get to the sea.”

That’s when Harry had noticed her, and to this day Y/N had no clue as to why he’d fallen for her. He was conversing with Florence about the upcoming scene when his ears caught the very end of the conversation, green eyes snapping to where two people in running tracksuits stood.

One of them was a tall burly man, muscles practically ripping apart his clothes at the seams, the other was a shorter woman, hands-on-hips, hair kept away by a headband which also covered her ears, and the most done expression on her face as she glared at her companion.

They were talking with a nervous assistant; Harry could see by her stature and how her head kept snapping to the side in hopes of finding someone above her to deal with the two strangers.

“Adam, I swear to god, I’ll punch you." Harry heard the woman exclaim. "Leave the girl alone! We can run around.”

“But I –“

“Adam!”

“Fine,” he grumbled as he threw the assistant and apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“ ‘S okay. Have my preferred cycling route as well, so yeah… Sorry.”

Harry watched as the woman next to the person, Adam, shook her head and gestured to where the barriers curved around, starting up on a slow jog, and when they passed where he was standing by the trailers, he could hear them still arguing.

“Oh my god,” Harry heard her whisper while looking at the ground. “I’m friends with a fucking Karen.”

“I am NOT a – you’re Harry Fucking Styles!” Adam shouted so hard, it startled Y/N, and when she looked over, it was like a deer in headlights before relaxing and both of them slowed their pace.

“Sorry,” she gave him an awkward glance. “He’s a fan, but we’ll be going and stop bothering you...”

“No, no,” Harry shook his head, putting his hands in his coat’s pockets and smiling. “ ‘S alright, you’re no bother. I’m always happy to talk to a fan.”

“Yes, well, don’t encourage him. Soon enough, you’ll be besties, and Adam here’ll be turning your life into absolute chaos.”

He scoffed looking down at his friend. “I’d like to think I’m taking you out of your boring routine, Y/N, and giving it some spice.”

“Anyway,” she gritted out. “It was lovely to meet you, but uh, we should probably be on our way. You have to be somewhere.”

Y/N’s eyes glanced over Harry’s shoulder, where a nervous AD stood, bouncing on her feet, a weary smile on her face as she caught the singer’s eyes and motioned with her head he was needed back on set.

Harry nodded and wanted to turn back to tell the two to come by whenever they wanted (well mainly Y/N), but when he turned around, the two were already quite a few feet away. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Y/N shout, “Congratulations on the three Grammy nominations, by the way. ‘Fine Line’ was amazing.”

“And that’s a compliment!” Adam hollered jogging backwards. “She only listens to shit from the early 2000s.”

“Adam, shut up!”

With that, Harry was left to watch the two disappear behind the trees, a feeling he was quite familiar with settling in his chest.

It was three days later, when he saw Y/N approaching the set barriers, hands in her pockets, as she rolled her neck. Their eyes met, and even, from the distance, he could see her smile split apart her face, but when she just waved without the intention of coming any closer to the lot, Harry rushed to the side calling out to her. “Hey!”

“Hey!” Y/N responded chuckling and ducking her head down. “You alright?”

“ ‘M alive. How ‘bout you? You doin’ fine?’”

“The bar’s so low?”

“I guess. Won’t be able to get you to nurse me back to health though, which is why I’m in the cold again.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at Harry. “If you wanted to see me, there's no need to lose limbs or bits of yourself.”

Harry hadn’t expected her to be so upfront, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t like it. Made it easier for him to understand if his advances were welcome or if he should back off. “So uh, no Adam today?”

“No, he has a late shift at work. Which means I’m spared from the running.”

“Not a fan?” he looked at her with a quirked brow, seemingly saying ‘you’re sure dressed like you are’.

“Do I look like someone who likes stabbing pain in her side and having her heart ripped out of her chest?

“You’re just not breathing properly.”

Y/N sighed. “If one of you gives me any more advice about how to properly run when I don’t even want to run, I swear I’ll stab you.”

“Okay!” he threw his hands up in surrender, laughing. “No more talk about running if I wanna keep my head on my shoulders. Where are you uh going? You don’t have to answer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N squealed on the inside, but bit her lip to keep the grin away. She’d been dying to talk to Harry since they’d briefly met but had no real reason. Not that she had one now, but she’d had a horrible day at work and needed to clear her head, and what was better than the forest air (also she could scream there without anyone really caring). “You’re not, so don’t worry. I’m uh I’m going to the sea.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “There’s sea nearby?”

“You’re like a fifteen-minute walk away from it,” she chuckled, stuffing her hands in her coat’s pockets. “Should really be more aware of your surroundings.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Yeah, you’re kind of right. But it’s places like these where you can find the best spots.”

“Will you show me then?”

She looked at him with an unreadable expression, and he could only hope his nervousness wasn’t as apparent, because Harry was more than convinced his erratically beating heart could be heard miles away. But then she nodded, giving him a wide grin, making one of his own bloom on his face.

“You sure you won’t freeze on your way there?” she said in a sarcastic tone eyeing him up and down, and Harry shoved her a bit.

He donned one of the standard down-jackets issued for the movie with winter boots, but given the costume underneath, he was chilled to the bone. “It’s bloody cold, and my toes are freezing off. How are you still standing?”

“Insulated shoes and thermal clothes. Kinda boiling actually.”

“I should steal ‘em.” He smiled at her. “Probably have frostbite by now.”

“Wow, you people from the South UK really are weak.”

Harry’s gasp made her smile as wide as a Cheshire cat. “How dare you!” He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, Y/N’s laughter erupting through the air. It cut through the yells and shouts from the filming crew, and made a warmth spread in his chest. “How do you know about the South versus North? You don’t sound like you’re from the UK.”

“Studied there for three years; had loads of flatmates from all around, let alone course mates.” Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “And to say that I thrived on the chaos was when you said North was better than the South would be an understatement.”

“Well, I guess I know where your loyalties lie.”

“Did you expect me to immediately swoon over you?” Y/N batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, Mr Harry Styles. Your voice in ‘Kiwi’ was so good it fucked me to cloud nine. Will you please do that to me with your dick instead? Which you should take as a compliment again, considering kiwi is the only thing I’m allergic to.”

“Wait,” he looked at her, eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead. “So you have heard my stuff?”

“Well, I don’t live completely under a rock. I did say 'Fine Line' was amazing.”

“But you don’t really like it?”

Y/N shook her head. “ ‘S not that I don’t like yours or other pop stuff, ‘s just that I have a preference, and I guess it’s, as Adam said, ‘early 2000s shit’.”

A sly smile appeared on Harry’s face. “But could that include by any chance 'One Direction'?”

“Afraid not,” Y/N sighed giving him a pout. “When you came onto the scene, my heart was already taken by a boyband. And I can be a lot of things, but I most definitely a loyal bitch.”

“One band at a time kind of gal?”

“Exactly.” She beamed. God Harry had never wanted to kiss a person that bad.

“Duly noted, but I will need to know who they are, and how many graves do I have to dig? You know, for research purposes.”

“Going method now?”

“What’dya mean?”

Y/N shrugged sniffling a bit from the frosty weather. “Looked up a little bit about the movie. Need to know what kind of people might be around in the area. Psychological thriller. Wife. Rich husband. A dark secret. My guess – someone’s dead and buried. Also, the huge pit we walked past was kind of a give-away.”

He paused for a second before nodding. “Fair enough.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two as Y/N motioned with her head to where they needed to turn and made their way onto a new path when she spoke. “ ‘S not that I wasn’t a fan,” Y/N shrugged glancing at Harry from the side. “The songs were really catchy, but I guess I got tired of them? Like they were on the radio so much, it was a relief I didn’t have to hear the five of you singing about how I don’t know I’m beautiful.”

Harry threw his head back in a laugh. “Don’t worry. Sometimes we’d get sick of it ourselves. But umm, ‘Fine Line’… You said you liked it… Do ya’ have a favourite song?”

Y/N cringed. “Is it cliché if I say ‘Golden’? Because it’s ‘Golden’. I’m a sucker for a slow and then a ‘bam!’ kind of an opening.”

Harry shook his head. Now he was the one biting back a grin. “ ‘S not cliché. Was one of my favourites to write, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”

“Also, it makes me feel sunny? If that makes sense? Like – like when I listen to it, I feel warm and safe and just happy...”

He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest at her words. Warm. Safe. Sunny. “Well,” Harry cleared his throat to keep the words ‘One day I’ll marry you’ at bay. Fuck, he'd only known her for like twenty minutes! “I’m glad you like it more than my previous stuff.”

“You just love putting me in uncomfortable situations, don’t you?”

He smiled, nudging her shoulder with his, and was just about gearing up to take a breath and ask Y/N out (before he could ask to marry her), when quick steps from behind him drew their attention.

Dressed in a typical 50s housewife dress with a black coat on top, Florence Pugh came to stand beside them, and Harry swore he saw mischief twinkle in her eyes as she raked them over both people and then settled on Harry’s companion.

“Hi!” she said giving Y/N a bright smile, and a wink to Harry, which passed the other girl’s head, given how she was absolutely fangirling right now. “I’m Florence.”

“I – yeah – I – you – I love you,” Y/N finally breathed out. “Fuck, I just, you know, 'Midsommar' was a fever dream, but I absolutely loved it, and I can’t wait for 'Black Widow' to come out. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Please don’t.” She laughed grabbing onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Feels like I already know you, but I’ve been dying to meet you actually. Created quite the commotion yesterday.”

You know how they say men can think of absolutely nothing, like have a completely blank page in their head? Yeah, Y/N was having that exact moment.

Florence tutted crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Harry with mock disappointment. “But Harry here just kept talking about you, without any intention of inviting you to the trailers, so I had to take things into my own hands.”

“You’ve been wanting to meet me?” Y/N breathed out, hands going into her hair, looking at Harry. “Oh my god, what is happening? Am I hallucinating?”

“No, you’re not,” Harry grumbled glaring at Florence. “Unfortunately. But we were on our way to the sea, so I’ll see you back on se-“

“Hello there,” Chris Pine’s smooth voice interrupted them, as he extended a hand for Y/N to shake as he jogged up to the trio. “I’m Chris.”

“Wow, your eyes are even bluer in real life.” Her own Y/E/C ones widened. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“You did,” Chris chuckled, “but I most certainly take it as a compliment. You said you were going to the sea?”

“Uh, yeah,” Y/N breathed out still gazing into Pine’s eyes. “Wanna join?”

Harry wanted to scream, but he couldn’t really. As much he wanted to tell both Florence and Chris to go away, he didn't. Seeing Y/N’s eyes light up as the two other actors conversed with her, laughed and joked around, made his heart expand.

It was insane to him, that a woman he’d seen twice in his life could have such a huge impact. It was like she’d been his missing part. Well, no. Harry didn’t like that notion – that the ‘right’ person would complete someone. People were complete on their own, but it was true to him that there was someone out there that’d make each and every moment special, someone who would help the other become better, but also hold them accountable when needed.

They wandered around the seashore, which like Y/N had said, was a fifteen-minute walk, for about half an hour before turning back to the woods.

By that point, she’d somewhat calmed down, and could actually comprehend what Chris and Florence were saying to her, and it was rather enjoyable to ask all the questions about Hollywood and the industry most people wouldn’t say on the record.

At around four PM when all of them got back to set and Olivia came to tell them they were wrapping up for the day, Florence, and Chris split from Y/N, telling her to come by whenever she wanted, while Harry said he’d walk her to the end of the trail.

“You know I’ll be fine. I grew up here, know these paths like the back of my hand.”

�� ‘S alright,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they won’t mind much if I come back ten minutes later.”

“You know, you’re not how I thought you’d be.”

“What’dya mean?”

“I – I don’t even really know… just not how I imagined you.”

Harry didn’t know what to really do with that information, but the look on Y/N’s face most definitely didn’t seem like she meant it in a bad way. In fact, her shy smile and fleeting glances told him otherwise. At least he hoped he read her features right.

They said goodbye with soft ‘see you laters' and he watched her throw one last glance at him over her shoulder before he himself retreated and ventured to the trailers to start de-shedding the character of Jack for the night.

Harry plopped down in his seat with a groan, fishing out his phone from the pocket while the hair and make-up team did their work, taking the products off his face before applying moisturiser to the stressed skin.

Florence poked him in the cheek, and he swatted away at her hand, looking up from Instagram (or his attempts to find Y/N with just knowing her first name). “What’s wrong?” she asked, poking his pouting face again.

“She literally fangirled about everyone but me.” He huffed sliding down even further in his seat.

Florence raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Styles?”

“No,” he scoffed crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because literally both mornings that we've got here, you’ve been fidgety, keeping a watch of the path, and didn't calm down until Y/N appeared just now. So I’d say you’re absolutely smitten with the girl and are jealous because she’s more of a fan of us than you.”

“I know she likes me.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I think. She hasn’t told me to fuck off.”

“She’s a stranger you met in the middle of the woods. You should hope she likes you. But not too much. Otherwise, it could so easily become a scene out of a horror movie.”

Chris bit his lip looking at Olivia, who’d come in the trailer after having seen the group come back with an almost heartbroken gaze – it was clear as a summer’s day Harry was struck by the girl, but they had to face the music. “Harry,” he started. “You – you do realise we end filming here in two weeks, right? And she’s a local.”

“And?” his eyebrows furrowed at Chris’ words.

“You’ll be leaving in two weeks for another three months of filming, while she stays here. I don’t – I don’t want to see you hurt, but you have to realise that most likely nothing will happen.”

“And what makes you say that? Maybe she could come with.”

“Y/N is her own person with her own life, job and friends, which, as it seems is all set here.”

“Besides you don't really even know her,” Olivia said as well. “It's been two days."

“Sometimes a day is enough.”

A silence settled over them, as Harry tapped his phone against his nails.

“You guys, come on!” Florence came to his defence. “He likes her. Why not give it a shot?”

He'd flashed her a thankful smile and mouthed a 'thank you' to which she just gave him an encouraging nod. She was on his side. She believed he could do it. And he did. Using Florence's faith in him as a catalyst, a day later when Y/N had gone on her run with Adam, Harry had excused himself and joined the two.

Adam was thrilled to the bone, but he was also competitive, so after ten minutes of trying to persuade the woman to run faster so he could beat his previous time, he took off on his own, with a promise of meeting up by the shore. That’s when Harry grabbed Y/N by her bicep and stalled them both, confusion written all over her features.

“I uh,” he started. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

“I – “ he stuttered taking in a deep breath. “I – uh – and you have zero obligations to respond, but uh – I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?”

That made Y/N do a double-take. “You want to go out? On a date? With me?”

“Ye – yeah.” It was uncertain how the word came out, but it felt so good to say it. “Yes, I really do.”

“Sorry.” She shook her head looking at the ground with furrowed brows. “Sorry’s just, kinda hard to believe it.”

“ ‘Nd why’s that?”

“Well because the first time we met, I looked like a sweaty mess, the second, I could barely function around your friends and co-workers, and now, well now I look like a sweaty mess again.”

“So?”

“I just –” Y/N laughed but waved him off. “Never mind.”

Fear instantly took hold of his core at her statement, so he rushed to salvage what could be salvaged. “No, I mean if you don’t want, you - you don’t have to say ‘yes’. I’m not gonna be upset or any –“

“Harry!” This time Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his ramblings. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“You – you would?”

“Yes.” Her smile blinded him like the golden rays of sun which broke through the overcast sky. “I’d like to very much so.”

But it was Y/N’s tearful huff, a storm cloud compared to the warm light from his memories, which brought him out of the fond thoughts and into the icy right now.

“Because unless it revolves around Harry Styles, it doesn’t matter, right?” she let out a pained laugh. “Because unless he’s there to have all the spotlight on him, it’s not important. Unless it’s not something he wants to take part in, it immediately needs to be cancelled or rescheduled because god forbid someone made plans without him.”

He grunted in disagreement. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

“No,” she snapped, snatching her purse and coat. “I get it. Very clearly. I’ll show myself out.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

She scoffed, glaring at him. “Call me when you get your head out of your ass.”

The door slammed shut, and Harry sat down onto the sofa to scream into a pillow.

***

Y/N’s sight was blurry as she drove down the street. A light snow had started to fall over London, so she was twice as careful, knowing Londoners had zero clue how to function when snow hit, and no one had winter tires.

“Fuck,” she choked out, wiping away at her cheeks.

She’d had fights with Harry before, it wasn’t like they were perfect. From the outside they looked like nothing could ever be wrong, but they were human. They had flaws and tempers and ideas and beliefs, and sometimes they clashed, but it’d never been as bad as it was that night.

She loved Harry, Y/N truly did. She’d even had dreams of the two of them in some far-off cottage in the Italian mountains living a domestic life, but she also just wanted one night to herself. To let loose and think about her own needs and wants, while Harry was away doing the same. It wasn’t selfish, not in her mind.

It’d been her who’d uprooted her whole life to be closer to Harry, not the other way around. She was always the one cancelling and making new plans with her family or friends just so she could spend a spare second with Harry. She was there for his sleepless nights and there for his knock-out concerts. Why couldn't he let her have this one thing?

She was sitting by the wheel at a red light taking in deep breaths to calm herself down.

The light turned green, and her hand was slightly shaking as she changed gears.

Y/N released the clutch and pressed down on the gas.

Two lights came rushing from the side.

She gasped.

A sharp pain went through her side.

And then it was all black.

***

Anne was going to rip Harry a new one, as she rang him for the fifteenth time, but he still didn't pick up. After the accident and the nurses being unable to contact Harry, they obviously called Y/N’s parents which were next on the emergency contact's list, but given how they lived outside of the UK and the next flight was only in four days, they immediately reached out to Anne, begging for her to go be with their daughter while they got there.

“And please tell Harry to fly over as well!” Y/N’s mum had cried. “I – I know he has work, but please.”

Anne had been shocked to hear Y/M/N ask that, having assumed he was already there, but she wasn’t going to let them get to Harry before she set him straight herself.

In the beginning, she’d been kind of sceptical, but after spending an evening together where Y/N, her and Gemma all did wine baking, and it had ended up in a disaster in the kitchen with the three of them crying from laughter while Harry stood at the entrance completely baffled and just so done with them, Anne knew Y/N only had good intentions with her son.

Anne’s love for her only grew from that point on, when she also realised just how much Y/N’s love language was giving. It wasn’t the kind of ‘hey, look, I bought you some fancy thing, now love me’, it was ‘hey, I saw how much you wanted this, I noticed how much it’d mean to you, and I love how happy it makes you. And if it reminds you of me, that’s just a bonus’, and Anne couldn’t help but become as protective of Y/N as her own kids.

But at that moment, as finally, after her twenty-seventh attempt, Harry picked up with a gruff ‘ ‘ello?’, Anne was about to burst with rage.

“You get to the hospital right now!” she hissed into the phone.

“What are you talking about?” There was a tremble in his voice.

The thing was, for two days since Y/N had stormed out, Harry’d been feeling sick. He thought it was due to the stress from the fight and from the pressure his label was putting on him, but now he understood it wasn’t that. It was his instinct telling him something bad had happened, and at Anne’s words, the bad feeling that’d settled in his stomach made his blood run cold. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N was in a car accident, and you didn’t bother to pick up your phone.”

“I –” He stammered unable to process her words. “What? Mum? No…”

“You’re her emergency contact,” Anne spoke. “The hospital tried to call you a billion times, and you didn’t pick up.”

And that’s when he remembered all of those calls from unknown numbers. He thought they’d been some crazed fans who’d gotten his personal number, so he’d just blocked them. “Mum, no.” Harry choked out. “I didn’t mean to – we fought – mum…”

“She’s at St. Helen’s. Please get here.”

He immediately ended the call, and in the span of twenty minutes was at the hospital, which Anne was sure to scold him for because there was no way in hell anyone who didn’t speed would be able to get to St. Helen’s in less than forty minutes. The second she saw her son burst through the door, tear tracks down his face, all the anger and disappointment vanished.

“Where is she? Is she alive? Y/N!” he yelled across the hallway. “Where is she? Mum! Where’s Y/N?”

“Gem.” She patted her daughter’s knee as both of them stood up from where they’d been sitting at the chairs outside the recovery room assigned to Y/N. “Get a nurse, please.”

Gemma didn’t need an explanation or reasoning seeing Harry’s wild eyes, erratic breathing and shaky hands.

“Mum!” He practically sprinted after seeing the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Calm down, Harry,” she shushed him, pulling him in for a hug and feeling his whole body tremble. “Calm down, it’s alright. Gem’ll get you some help, but you need to breathe.”

“I – I’m not the one who needs help!” Harry pretty much screamed. “I need to know if my girlfriend is alive.”

Anne spoke in a calm voice as to not agitate him even more, and her heart broke at the sight of her son so utterly broken. “Harry, you’re about to have a panic attack, and you’re no use to Y/N in that kind of state.”

“So.” He took in a chocked back breath. “So she’s alive?” He didn’t know what he’d do if the answer was anything else but a resounding ‘yes’. There was no version in his brain of where his life could possibly lead but down if he had to go on without Y/N.

“Yes,” Anne nodded, smoothing his hair away from his face, and watching as he took in a deep breath of relief. “She was just wheeled in for her second surgery. Should be out in about four hours. ”

All over again his insides froze. “Second? Mum, tell me the truth – how bad is it?”

“Harry, this is routine,” Gemma put a reassuring hand on his shoulder having returned with a nurse behind her, the man keeping a close eye on Harry and his behaviour. “They did as much as they could the first time, but their priority was on the worst injuries. This one is just to set things properly.”

“Set everything right like – “

“Like bones and stuff…” Gemma shuddered, trailing off. “Y/N broke her hip, dislocated her kneecap, her ankle was shattered and she fractured her collarbone. They took her in so that the bones could be properly placed together and there’s a lesser chance of complications not only while healing but later on in life. But can you please sit down? So they can help you as well?”

“I – alright,” he conceded, taking a place on one of the stiff plastic benches, as the nurse came to him, took his pulse, gave him an inhalator just in case and some herbal tablets to help him relax a bit.

“You said they focused on the worst injuries.” Harry looked at his mother. “What were those?”

Anne sighed, leaning to sit back on the chair next to him and ran a hand through his hair. “A piece of debris punctured one of her kidneys. The bleeding was pretty intense, but they say it was salvageable, so she’ll still have both of them. Gem donated some blood.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, looking over at his sister who wiped a stray tear away from his cheek.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Y/N is family. If she’d lost the kidney, I’d give her mine in a second.”

“The worst they’re worried about is the head injuries,” Anne said. “Luckily, she got away without anything major, but she definitely has a concussion and minor whiplash to her neck, so they want to keep an eye out for any side effects that could arise. They have another surgery scheduled for her in a week if recovery goes as planned. To take the stitches that won’t dissolve out and put in the ones that will.”

Harry sagged against his mother’s side, her palms soothingly running up and down his back. “She’s gonna be alright, love,” Anne muttered in his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

It was comforting for both of them – for Anne to have her youngest in her arms, to know he was safe and sound, and for Harry to be held by his mother, the person who always knew how to comfort him when times were rough, and at that moment, they were the roughest they’d ever been.

“You’ve got some nerve to be here.” Adam’s seething voice pulled Harry away from his mother’s embrace and watched as he rounded the corner with a coffee cup. He was quite sure he was keeping his temper well in check from how hard he was gripping the Styrofoam cup. “Fucking ignore her for two days while she’s laying in the hospital, and appear when it’s convenient for you? Is she some fucking toy for you to use when you want?”

Anne’s tone was consoling and pleading. “He didn’t know.”

“The hell he didn’t, he just didn’t want to know! They called you!” Adam pointed at the nurse’s desk. “And you let them go to voicemail. And then, better yet, you fucking blocked the number.”

“I didn’t know it was the hospital,” he weakly defended himself.

“Because you didn’t bother to find out.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. And not that he really could think of anything when the surgery ward’s doors swung open and they watched as a nurse wheeled Y/N’s gurney back inside the room, while another wheeled her saline bag along with.

It was a terrifying sight to see. Her face was basically nothing but a swollen piece of flesh, bruises and scratches littering her cheeks, a neck brace to keep her head from moving while one leg was wrapped in a full-on cast, the other in one up until her knee and her left arm was in a sling.

He’d had nightmares about her before. Most of the times it was about Y/N leaving him because she could no longer do it, could no longer commit to the hectic lifestyle that came with Harry, and as he screamed, banging on the invisible window that separated them, she just walked away, his sobs carried by the wind in the other direction.

“You should go inside,” Anne whispered motioning with her head to where the nurses checked the monitors and how stable Y/N was. “I know you had a fight, but she’ll want you to be there when she wakes up.”

“How,” Harry gulped back the lump that’d risen in his throat. “How do you know? How do you know she doesn’t want me to just disappear? I wasn’t there when she needed me, I was – “

Anne put her hand on his cheek. “Because when she woke up yesterday morning for the first time, you were the first person she asked for. You. She wants you there. And it’s the least you can do for her.”

He nodded, then took a deep breath and entered Y/N’s room. Watching her lay in the bed, unmoving, without her usual grumpy features as she slept, made Harry sick to the stomach so much so, he thought he’d have to call back the nurse.

It was some twisted version of Sleeping Beauty, yet he knew a true loves kiss wouldn’t awaken her. Y/N just laid there, small breaths making her chest rise and fall, not even a flutter of her eyelids.

Harry had spent countless night watching her sleep, looking at how her lashes fluttered as she dreamed of something; how her forehead creased and small, incoherent noises passed her lips as she talked to someone in her mind.

Now, he was surrounded by none of that, only artificial reminders that she was still alive and fighting to get better.

With uneven steps, Harry made his way to the chair which’d been stationed next to her bed (he was convinced beyond belief that Gemma, his mum and Adam had all taken shifts to sit there, to be there for Y/N), and much like a king who knew he was unfit for the throne, Harry had to swallow a lump as he took the seat.

“I – I don’t know if you can hear me…” Harry took hold of Y/N’s palm and let out a sob of relief when he felt it was warm, not cold like he’d feared. “But I’m here for you. I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to, so until you wake up…” there were so many words, so many apologies he wanted to say, but kept them at bay. Y/N deserved to hear them when she was conscious, so instead, he said, “I’m here, lovie. Get some rest, I’ll be here…”

With that he put his head on the side of her bed, twisting his face so he could look up at her, watch her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and fell asleep to the sound the beeps of Y/N’s beating heart.

While he slept he dreamt again, the same terrifying dream of Y/N leaving, only this time she did look back at him, but her face was all wrong, her neck bent in a way it shouldn’t be, and eyes covered in a milky white.

“You weren’t there, Harry,” she said in a voice void of emotions. “So why should I be there for you?”

Harry was 100% sure if he’d been hooked up to a heart rate monitor while he slept, people would think he was going into cardiac arrest, but it sure would’ve shown it flatlining as his green eyes swept over his lover’s frame to check his nightmare hadn’t become a reality, only to be met with two Y/E/C sparkling orbs looking back at him, giving him the softest gaze in the universe.

“Hey,” Harry’s tone was quiet, afraid to bring even the littlest of discomfort to Y/N given her state, and he had to physically restrain himself from sweeping down to bring her in a hug.

What he saw on her face made his heart leap to his throat, as she smiled, genuinely happy to see him, lifting up her right hand, the only limb without a bandage on to cup his cheek. “Hey, love.” Her voice was scratchy like nails on a chalkboard, but to Harry, it was an absolute symphony. “Are you alright? Your eyes are puffy. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Fuck,” Harry choked on his tears looking up at the white ceiling before back at her, complete disbelief in his blood-shot eyes. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed, with casts and bandages all over you, scheduled for a third surgery, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

If Y/N could, she would’ve shrugged as if that wasn’t the most self-explanatory thing in the world. “I’ll always want to know if you’re alright. ‘S not exclusively you that can care for people, you know.”

And there she was – his sarcastic, allergic-to-kiwi-but-‘Kiwi’-loving girl that never ceased to amaze him, as she made sure everyone else was alright before herself. And that made Harry break down.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. So fucking sorry. I – god – I – there are not enough words in any language to say how fucking sorry I am. I should’ve been here, should’ve never let you leave. This is all my fault.”

Through all that, through his choked back sobs and crying, Y/N’s hand had steadily remained on his cheek, wiping away the tears from underneath one eye before switching to the other side and making the little pearls of hurt disappear with just her touch.

“Harry, are you the weatherman?”

That was not what he thought she would say. “I – what?”

“Do you control temperatures and have not told me?”

“N – no?”

“Were you the guy who ran the red light?”

“No.”

“Then how is this your fault?”

“I – “ he stammered. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve gone after you, found a way to make you stay or – or should’ve fucking stopped being so selfish and driven you to see Adam yourself.”

“Harry, had you tried to make me stay nothing would’ve changed.” Y/N sighed letting him lean into her touch, as she bit her lip, thinking over her words. “I was just so pissed, that I think anything you would’ve tried to do, would’ve only made it worse. And I’d rather be here with you than alone in my apartment crying in a tub of Hagen Dazs because of a broken heart.”

“You-you've got your priorities completely backwards.” He wasn’t laughing when he said that, but Y/N was.

“Maybe.” She raised her eyebrow. “But I don’t think so. The bones will heal, but the amount of love I have for you… I’m afraid you’ve ruined the thought of a future without you in it. We’ll talk,” Y/N swallowed hard. “We need to talk, but when I get better. Right now, I just wanna hold your hand and have you hold mine as I try not to kick the nurses trying to take my blood for tests.”

It felt inappropriate for Harry to smile, to feel happy about how Y/N hadn’t told him to go screw himself, even though he felt like he deserved it, but fuck was it impossible not to when his body felt so light, and her love chose to invade the dark corners of his mind to fill it with golden warmth.

She fell asleep not long after their small conversation, body too tired and in need of recovery, but like he’d promised, he was there for her when she awoke again, this time to a more familiar Y/N as she glared at the coffee cup in his hand, while he sipped, a ring clad palm gently pushing away strands of Y/H/C hair from her face.

“I hate that you can drink coffee.”

“Yeah, and why’s that?”

“Because I can’t.”

“I’ll happily buy you as many coffees as you like. Once you get better and are allowed to, of course.”

Y/N snorted and then winced as the action caused pain to shoot through her body. “Knowing you, it won’t be a cup of coffee or a coffee machine, but a fucking coffee chain restaurant.”

“Would it be that bad to own one?”

Her eyebrow rose at him in an incredulous look. “You know I can’t bake. Coffee shops include pastries, and I’m not the one who worked in a bakery. I can cook, I can clean, but make me make muffins from scratch, and I’ll set your house on fire.”

“You already did.” Harry laughed. “Gem and mum helped.”

“They supplied the wine, so I’m putting 60% of the blame on them.”

“You do realise that equates to 30% of the blame on each of them, and most of it is still on you?”

“Shut up,” Y/N smiled, weakly pushing against Harry’s arm, but the motion made him happy to know she was trying. “I was just in a car crash, so forgive me for not being that great at division.”

A knock at the door made Harry look up, Y/N not even attempting to turn her head to see who’d interrupted them, given how the first time she’d tried it with the neck-brace, it’d hurt so bad she’d passed out.

Her doctor was a man in his mid to late fifties with greying hair, Y/N’s medical record file slapped underneath his arm.

“How are we doing today?”

“Better than yesterday, I guess,” she responded.

“Well, you were out for most of it, so I’d say so.”

Y/N and the doctor chuckled, but Harry didn’t, as he thought of how bad, how absolutely tired a person has to be to sleep for a whole day. He’d had those days himself, and that was from being exhausted from work. He couldn't imagine what being in a bloody accident would feel like.

The doctor stepped forward a bit and extended a hand to Harry, introducing himself as Dr Tate, while Harry rose in his seat to accept it, but not wanting to move away an inch from Y/N.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

“I – uh – I can only hope I still am,” he let out a nervous giggle, which made his girlfriend slap his arm, a furrow on her face.

Dr Tate looked Harry over from head to toe, eyebrow raised at that, but all he said was, “We tried to contact you, seeing as you’re Miss Y/L/N emergency contact, but the nurses said it couldn’t go through.”

“He was filming overseas.” Y/N butted in, clearly having rehearsed what to say beforehand. “Flew over as fast as he could. I’m the luckiest person in the world.” Her tone was soft as a feather, but Harry’s stomach felt like it was filled with rocks.

“Is there anything I can help with?” he asked hoping to be given some sort of a task to do, to allow him to redeem himself some way.

“Well, actually yes. One of the injuries Ms Y/L/N sustained was a concussion,” the doctor said, “which could lead to some complications like headaches, migraines, spotty vision or amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Harry wanted to vomit. It had crossed his mind, but having a professional say it made it all so much worse.

“Yes, and we’d need someone to be with her as much as possible, 24/7 would be desirable, to keep an eye on.”

Harry honestly hadn’t heard anything past the amnesia part, mind spinning in a circle that just screamed ‘she’ll forget all about you’.

“It’s nothing to worry about too much.” Dr Tate was quick on his feet, seeing Harry’s blank stare, and tried to diffuse any possible spiralling. ��With Y/N’s cognitive abilities and having repeatedly excelled at the test without a single stutter, it’s very unlikely she’ll have those side effects.

“But it’s still a possibility, right?”

The doctor nodded, giving Harry a kind smile. “Which is why I’m informing you of it. To keep an eye out to see if anything changes so you could come in if necessary. But as I said – Y/N’s memory has proven to be intact so far. And I always say to trust the facts.”

“Harry,” Y/N placed her hand on his. “You know I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll uh, give you two a second.” The doctor exited leaving them alone, an almost sad silence over both of them.

“God I almost lost you to some idiot running a red light with no winter tires, and now you won’t remember me. And – and even with everything you’re going through, you’re still trying to protect me? Why did you lie? I – I wouldn’t have cared if you said the truth that I was an asshole.” Harry dragged both hands over his face, trying to keep the cry’s at bay as Y/N ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’d prefer to think,” Y/N shrugged trying to tease him and make him crack a smile, “me being dead would be the worst-case scenario, not me forgetting you. And of course, I’ll protect you. Your reputation matters to me. Just because we had a fight doesn’t mean I’ll immediately run to everyone I can and say how shitty of a person you were in those specific ten minutes.”

But Harry’s lips didn’t quirk up, the tears didn’t disappear as the painful grimace on his face wasn’t replaced by the crow lines next to his eyes from smiling so much. “What if you – what if you forget you love me? What do I do then? I know I sound selfish and like the biggest fucking dick, but as pathetic as it is – I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how I could.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words because if the roles were reversed if Harry forgot about her and fell out of love, she didn't know how she'd survive. She’d had those fears before, when he was away filming and she couldn’t follow; she’d been terrified because what they’d had was so new, he could easily move on, find someone better, someone who was familiar with his lifestyle. But any time those thoughts came to her mind, Y/N reminded herself of what she’d do. And that’s what she told Harry.

“Then you make me fall in love with you again. You’re great at that. Make me love you more with every passing moment.”

“And – and if you don’t fall in love with me again?”

Y/N shook her head. “Impossible, Harry. You made me fall in love with you after barely two hours spent together. And well, if you put your mind to it… who knows how much deeper I’ll fall.”

For the first time in two days, Harry leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, a barely-there touch, but it meant everything. It was a promise to one another to love unconditionally, to remind the other of it at every passing moment; it sealed their future to be spent together, and neither wanted it any other way.

Harry’s phone rang, eliciting a whine from Y/N as he pulled away to answer it. “It’s Florence.” He pecked her lips one more time. “I’ll just tell her to call back.”

He turned to the side for a second muttering a soft ‘hey, can you –‘ before whatever Florence told him made him pull away and extend the deivice towards Y/N.

“It’s for you.”

“For – for me? Florence is calling me?”

Had the two women become friends? Yes. But didn’t mean Y/N had an easier time not fangirling about her.

“Hi, Flo,” she breathed out, looking at Harry with wide, happy eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Harry sat there watching as his love talked to someone she looked up to, and someone he cared about. He hadn’t told Florence, but her encouragement meant the world to him, as she was partially the reason he’d gotten together with Y/N. After all, she’d been the one on his side from the very beginning.

Y/N giggled like a crazy person after the call ended and she handed Harry back his phone. “Florence Pugh just called to give me well wishes.” She gasped looking at Harry. “Do you think Chris Pine will too?”

“God, I love you,” Harry laughed with her, pressing their foreheads together.

They’d be alright, they’d make sure of it. No matter if a disagreement arose, egos needed to be put in check or black ice covered the roads. They’d get through anything.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: Listen, Linda, those pictures of Harry on set does things!!!

Also the being allergic to kiwi - that’s me. Like legit it’s the only thing I’m allergic to. I always hated how they tasted like pain, like it made my mouth sting and feel like pins and needles before going numb, and according to professionals, that’s a sign of being allergic. But I love ‘Kiwi’ the song.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry :(

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles angst #harry styles and you #harry styles and reader #harry styles and y/n #harry styles fluff #don't worry darling #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

728 notes · View notes

gisachi · 4 years ago

Text

Better late than never?? Supposed to post on the day itself but of course I couldn’t. This is my rushed contribution to the prompt: domestic mixed with black knight&princess.

ShinRan Week Day 6

Prompt: Domestic (+ Black Knight&Princess)

Words: ~2.5k

“Not just once, but twice! Who was it that saved my life again? Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what, uh, the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrow- sorrowful? - face under this moonlight. Oh wow this is cheesy.”

Ran leans on the arm of the couch, bound script covering her resigned face. If she had a hundred yen for every single complaint coming out of this detective’s mouth, she’d have enough to buy two entrance passes to Tropical Land for each day of the week, plus snacks and drinks.

“I went here because I thought you’d be a more immersive practice partner than ‘tou-san. You are worse.”

“I’m sorry, princess, if my mom being an actress ruined your expectations of me.”

“Oh, for sure. And otou-san doesn't destroy the scene by dropping nonsensical comments. And lie on the couch while reading the script. So he’s better by a lot.”

Shinichi props his body up, eyes rolling sarcastically before throwing a look at the lady on the edge. “To be fair, you came barging into my house so early on a Sunday. This is justified.”

“Shinichi, eleven in the morning isn’t early.”

With a stubborn grumble, the detective flops back into the cushions, script on his lap sliding to the floor. “ ’M tired Ran, long case last night, let me sleep.”

“Please, you’re my last option! School festival is in less than two weeks, and I can’t possibly ask Araide-sensei to spare time on a weekend outside of our rehearsal schedule when he’s busy working—”

The lightning speed Shinichi jolts upright causes Ran to cut herself short. “Araide-sensei is the cloaked knight?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? I-” she pauses, delayed in taking in the curt iciness of his response when he was so apathetic five seconds ago. On anyone else it’s clear what that tone implies, but she’s never heard it on him.

“Do you have a beef with Araide-sensei?” she asks.

“A beef?”

Ran arches an eyebrow, skeptic. Shinichi meets her gaze, eyes slightly thinning before glancing away, cheeks crimson.

“I mean— Why Araide-sensei? Shouldn’t he be busy, I dunno, being a doctor, than being a fictional knight or something.”

“All the guys in our class were too shy and declined, so Sonoko asked Araide-sensei when he happened to come in for a checkup. He agreed so easily! Would you believe he’d taken a lot of lead roles in plays when he was a student?”

“And that was fifteen something years ago.”

“He’s also good at things like emphasizing lines and handling a woman!”

“Anyone can- What?!”

“Stop being a sourpuss Shinichi, especially when you’re the first to decline.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I did?”

“You don’t even remember?” Amidst the faint pink on her cheeks, disappointment etched on the way Ran’s lips curve to a small pout. “You were the first Sonoko asked... You were so quick to turn her down, she said.”

Astounded by the revelations docking in his brain all at once, Shinichi struggles to recall the conversations he had exchanged with Sonoko the past weeks. None stands out. If she had included Ran’s name in there, he would remember instantly. But Sonoko didn’t. Suddenly, the floodgates in his mind open.

If he finds out later on about the plot and the cast, he’ll definitely find a reason or two to sulk, if not object. Whether Ran is partnered with someone else or Araide-sensei doesn’t matter, for as long as it isn’t him. Him who she’s positive would outright reject her offer to act as a prince because why would he? In any case, god knows Sonoko omitted Ran’s name on purpose for this.

The sly woman has stirred something up, and she will proudly take the front row seat on his reaction she was so sure he’d make.

Not saying Sonoko’s predictions are right. This is just how she thinks. And he won’t react the way she expects he will. She is not right.

Not. Right.

Sonoko, yaro...

“Stand up, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“You want immersive? I’ll give you immersive.”

Left with little time to process as Shinichi pulls her by the hand, Ran drops her script on the floor. The sudden shift in character is unbelievable. How can someone so sleep-deprived turn into someone this enthused in a span of a breath?

“But first, let me…” He leaves the room, and Ran picks up her script, still quite lost. Whatever she said earlier must have triggered something, and she’s torn if she’ll ask once he returns but considers the possibility that he may break character. Not gonna risk that. He said he’ll give her an immersive practice, and it’s oddly unexpected, but she’ll take it. This is good. After all, she needs him as the knight.

Wants him as the knight.

“Sheesh, Ran, stop…” Shying away from her own maidenly thoughts, Ran flips to the designated page, scene, and line, rehearsing as she waits.

Some minutes later, Shinichi reappears, holding his script and something else. Of all things she would expect him to own, a blue fancy Columbina mask adorned with elegant silver and royal patterns wasn’t one of them.

“Mom has these things, okay,” he explains, putting it on. Ran isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or tease, but she does neither when she gets a glimpse of him with half of his face covered, and she catches her breath at the sight.

Standing against silk red curtains and brilliant glow of afternoon sunlight, he really does seem like a mysterious knight…

“Don’t laugh, idiot. After doing this for you. Wear this,” he says, and Ran zeroes in on the line of his lips because she has nowhere else to look at as he places a small barrette tiara on her hair. Doesn’t matter what he says, what they wear, even if they fail to match the daintiness of the mask and tiara. Shinichi with this on makes Shinichi as the knight much more vivid now. And Ran as the princess...

“Sorry!” She claps a hand on her warming cheek, pulls back a dumb smile she doesn’t notice she is wearing. “And I— I wasn’t laughing!”

“Still smiling creepily though.”

“I wasn’t being creepy! Geez. Anyway! Page-”

“Page 27, Scene 8, Line 10. Got it.”

After some short blocking instructions, they drop their scripts on the couch, and begin.

“Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrowful face under this moonlight.”

Two steps forward and he removes the mask, and time slows down. She’s seen the same face a million times yet this time, her heart leaps like she’s laid eyes upon the most handsome face in the universe.

“Might—Might you be Spade?” She carries on, taking everything she can to maintain composure. “Long ago, you were banned from this land by my father… but now you’ve become the prince of Trump Kingdom...”

It’s nerve wracking, the way he’s strikingly still, eyes laden on her, either waiting for her next lines or admiring how beautiful she is with the tiara, she isn’t quite sure. The mask is gone, but he isn’t breaking character. Meanwhile, she’s trying her darned best to stay as Princess Heart of Bridge Kingdom.

“If you have… not forgotten about our childhood promise, then please…”

A nervous lump forms in her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands find her waist, and she nearly gasps but holds it in because right now, she’s Princess Heart, not Mouri Ran asking this of Kudou Shinichi. “Please, show me on these lips.”

“As my princess so desires...”

It should be ‘the’, not ‘my.’ And there’s supposed to be another line after that, but nothing stops him as he leans in ahead of time and her eyelids flutter to the erratic beat of her heart. It’s better to be partnered with Araide-sensei in this after all. He will not mess up his lines, and she will not lose her mind the way she’s losing it now.

Two parted lips are a pucker away when the doorbell chimes, making both jolt.

Ran is first to snap out of character, as if she hasn’t had the urge to earlier.

“That—That must be Sonoko. I forgot to tell you... I invited her in.”

“Oh, great,” Shinichi says.

Forcing her limbs into working order, Ran disentangles slowly, drawing a distance. Shinichi glances at the mask in his hand, then at her, before tossing it to the couch and turning for the door. From the window, she watches him walk to the front gate, scratching the back of his head in an annoyed manner like she just woke him from sleep, but grumpier. She hasn’t seen him display much emotion on a Sunday noon the way she’s seeing him now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him, she sighs, her turn to slump onto the couch this time.

“As I was saying, the prod already scouted the finest material for the costumes, and I decided, pink suits Princess Heart— Hello? Are you listening?”

Ran nearly drops the knife she holds if not for her inhuman reflexes. “Of course! Princess Heart in pink! Yes.” Like nothing happened, she resumes slathering jam and butter on the toast she’s preparing for the three of them. She doesn’t need to look at her side to know Sonoko’s eyeing her from head to toe.

“What happened to her?” The woman turns to Shinichi who sits at the high stool by the kitchen island.

“Dunno,” he says, sounding as noncommittal as he probably appears. Her back is turned against him, but she can see his face, and god why is she blushing?

“I just helped her rehearse. For the play,” he adds.

“Oh?” Sonoko’s brow perks up her forehead, hair whipping as she turns between her and the boy across them. “Did you?”

“Yup. Page 27.”

The dramatic gasp that tears from their friend’s throat is exactly the kind of gasp they expected; even so, Ran still flinches as Shinichi’s stool rakes the floor. “You kissed and I didn’t see?!”

“Hah?!”

“No!”

The two yelp in unison.

“That’s sly! You have to do it again! I’ll judge.”

“Excuse you! It didn’t happen, what you’re thinking!”

“Sonokooo!”

“Oh, shush, Ran, this is good practice. Good practice.”

“But—”

“Relax, rehearsal is rehearsal! In the actual play, once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job—”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Shinichi gets off the stool, jaw stiff, out of the kitchen.

“—with a hug than a kiss. Right?” Sonoko ends, once Shinichi is out of the room.

“What?” Ran’s expression is inscrutable as she faces Sonoko completely, the flush across her face befitting embarrassment or ire. “You’re losing me here!”

“Oh, you’re not going to kiss, Ran. The lights will dim before your lips touch.”

“Then why—” she puts down the bread and walks in haste to the island to flip through the script, “Wh— That’s not in here!”

“Sonoko-sama hereby deems the script revised now that we have Araide-sensei.”

“Eh...?!” Ran cannot explain the play of her reactions. On one hand, a cloud is cleared from her mind, having to worry no more about doing something she has no experience with in front of watchful eyes. On the other, bunch of half-formed thoughts whirl through her mind that goes, Shinichi and I almost kissed for nothing, for nothing we almost k-kissed, an almost kiss with Shinichi, almost—

“That won’t do! I mean— That’s so not you! T-To choose a hug over a...”

“Duh, Ran! Even if it’s just a play, I won’t enable a kiss scene between a student and a staff member. We can fake the kiss. That, or switch to hug. Or better yet, change the male lead.”

“Change the male lead? In two weeks? Who will agree?!”

“Easy.” Just in time, Shinichi returns, hands in pocket and long face worn all the way to the stool. “I know someone who will.”

‘Once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job…’ What? Kissing Ran? Shinichi wants to puke. Sonoko needs to think things through. If this is part of her plan, it’s unacceptable, it sucks.

There’s no way, no way anyone can do a better job kissing Ran than…

“Aaaargh, what are you thinking!” He ruffles his hair in dismay, curses here and there. He only wanted to help Ran yet he almost went for it. Not as Spade but as himself. The audacity. It’s part of the script, sure, but—

If it is part of the script, then have Ran and Araide-sensei rehearsed it before?

“That’s it,” Shinichi huffs, storming out of the bathroom. If this is the kind of reaction Sonoko wants from him, she’s in for a show. Not just a show but a lifetime of curses and mental stabs. For her to go this far is unbelievable. Did Ran even agree to that? Will such a scene really happen in the play? No matter how despicable Sonoko’s methods are, he has faith she respects Ran’s preference as the female lead. No offense against Araide-sensei, but he cannot take Ran’s first kiss, whether as Spade or not.

That is not to say he knows Ran’s preference, especially when it comes to a first kiss, but… it’s not... Araide-sensei... is it?!

He cannot ascertain, not when Ran did nothing when they were about to kiss…

Okay, halt there, self. I said immersive. That’s immersive. She was acting.

All was but an act. She’s a great actress. I suck. No need to make this a big deal.

Shinichi is a pitiful mess once he’s back in the kitchen.

“My offer still stands, you know.” Sonoko sits beside him, munching a toast, while Ran is busy returning the jam in the cupboard, back against them.

“Your offer?”

Shinichi glances at Ran, then at Sonoko, with that feral grin on her lips and Shinichi does a bad job looking pissed, and it’s maddening because he is pissed, just not obvious with the blush forming across his cheek.

Reprimanding Sonoko is what he intends to do. For doing him dirty, him and Ran dirty, for dragging a staff to be the male lead, for imploring Ran to give her first kiss she’s probably saving in a different setting. All invalid reasons, when he cared less about the play before. He’s a full-time idiot, and Sonoko knows it clearly that’s why she’s offering the role again. He doesn’t want to fall into her trap, the same way he doesn’t want anyone else to be Spade when Princess Heart is Ran.

But Ran looks over her shoulder and they accidentally lock eyes, and pink blooms across her cheeks before she turns around, and suddenly the words that leave his mouth completely betray the thought process he underwent in the bathroom.

“If Ran agrees, yeah,” he says.

#shinranweek2021 #day 6 #late entry #shinran #kudou shinichi #mouri ran #fanfic #oh my god this is all over the place AHAHA #i dont want to leave this in my draft forever tho so here ya go!!

105 notes · View notes

ssplague · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 0ne

“And so it begins”

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

Warnings: Gaslighting, manipulation, power play, light degradation

The day before the two of you left for UA; Your best friend gave her word to your mother that she would always look after you. Now that the two of you are in your third year she’s officially FED UP with your attitude and childish antics. Mentioning her dilemma to your shared group of friends results in the most unlikely person offering to be her solution to the problem that is YOU.

A/N: The girl in the banner is NOT how the reader is “supposed” to look, it was just a drawing I did specifically for this. You look however you want to, I don’t really make any specific references to your appearance in this story.

🌅

Its Saturday morning; Ive been awake for about five minutes now, but I’m not ready to open my eyes and embrace the conscious world just yet. Hearing the door of my room unlock and open does the trick though. Only one person (other than myself of course) has a key to my dorm room.

“I made breakfast for the both of us, its your favorite” announces Euphie as she walks in, kicking the door shut behind her. I sit up, just as she’s pushing my black out curtains to the side I let out a hiss of disdain as sunlight immediately begins to permeate the room.

“Thank you Euphie” I say with a yawn.

She hands me a plate before settling down on my bed, acknowledging my thanks with a nod as we both tuck in.

“We have plans this afternoon, can you be ready by at least 12:30? No need to get super made up but at least out of your pajamas?” Euphies voice is gentle, but I catch the underlying “I’m not asking, but telling you” vibe she tries to hide.

“For sure”

She smiles at my seemingly agreeable mood so early in the morning and we easily segway into our standard start of the day discussions. “Are we um…Are we going to be busy all day? I….I kinda planned on going to hangout with-“ Euphie cuts me off as she picks up our plates: “No worries you’ll have plenty of time for that, I promise!” Giving me a wink before shutting my door.

She didn’t even know who I was referring to, or what I was going to say….

At 12:55 Euphie reappears to rush me out of my room.

“Hey I forgot my purse I-“

“Don’t need it”

“But my wallet is-“

“Not necessary”

Her tone is clipped, and she has a death grip on my wrist as she quite literally drags me down the hallway. Initially I was taken aback, not being used to receiving this type of treatment from her. My bearings have started returning along with growing frustration each time one of my questions are receiving one word answers, or met with a complete dismissal. Reaching my limit I fail to notice that she’d began to slow down, and I’m wrenching my wrist free of her grip at the exact same time she’d come to a stop.

“What in the fuck is your problem?! You told me that we had plans to go out this afternoon, and you’d treat me to whatever I want!

This-“ I’m interrupted again.

“I certainly wouldn’t do anything for a fuckin’ brat throwing a tantrum like this”

My eyes snap to the side where I see the irritated scowl of one Katsuki Bakugou, as he leans against his door frame glowering at me. Embarrassment further fuels my anger as I turn toward him, pointing an acusatory finger as I begin “No one fucking asked you, stay out of it Katsu-“.

Kirishima suddenly emerges from Bakugo’s room, giving Euphie an enthusastic greeting

“Hey there! You look nice, ready to head out?”. The red head is flashing his signature shark toothed grip at my best friend as he offers her his arm. “You know it” she giggles, taking hold of his muscular bicep. The two of them start to walk off, confused and furious I start to head after them, but a large hand grips my shoulder grounding me in place.

“Bakugo told me he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you while Kiri and I went out this afternoon, this way you’ll stay out of trouble and get to keep the plans you’d made with him, bye!” The closing elevator doors add a sudden finalization to her brief explanation.

“Plans?” Bakugo questions while uncermoniously yanking me backwards.

I stumble back, falling through the doorway and landing flat on my ass in front of the now closed door (Which he is standing in front of). Glaring up at him as he continues: “She must have me confused with the local brothel, because thats the only place I’d imagine wearing a skirt as short as that would be deemed appropriate”. His insult doesn’t deter his crimson eyes from roaming the length of my body, lingering on the aforementioned skirt. Getting to my feet, he walks around me and move towards his desk, taking a seat behind it.

“Oh fuck you Katsuki, you can be a real dick sometimes, I dunno what stupid Euphie told you about keeping and eye on me, but I dont need a fucking baby sitter! So ill be off now” with a huff you turn towards the door. “________, I’m not in the mood for bullshit today so just sit down and shut up” he growls, not turning to look at you. He always feels embarrassingly giddy when you adress him by his first name, thats why he insisted you call him by it. That in itself should be an indication of how he seems to favor you.

It makes him almost feel a bit guilty for using a harsh tone when he’d spoken to you. Despite how he treats others, Katsuki is hardly ever outright mean to you; He’s never even given you a derogatory nickname like he has for everyone else. Today’s an off day though…He’s just not used to running on little to no sleep. That paired with his already non existent level of patience makes for a blow up. Especially when YOU were the cause of his latest bout of insomnia….turning to look at you has his thoughts beginning to wander.

Those lips of yours flapping away as you berate him…

They sure would look a helluva lot better wrapped around his-

“-Not even fucking listening to me are you?!” You snarl, starting towards the door again. “I cant believe I woke up this morning wanting to hangout with YOU, guess I’ll change my plans and hangout with someone not so shitty to me…. Like Deku!” A loud crash comes from behind you. The now enraged man had stood up so abruptly, it sent his now vacated chair careening into the wall and toppling over.

“You really just cant help yourself can you?”

His voice is so eerily quiet as he turns to face you, something unidentifiable flashes in his rapidly darkening crimson orbs. You couldn’t exactly identify it, considering it disappeared as abruptly as it had originally came.

“Course you cant, I already know that”

A menacing smile appears on his face as he takes his first step toward you, immediately triggering your natural “Fight or flight” response.

“I know what you need”

He’s only an arms length away when you start to step back.

“You dont know shit”

You somehow summon the courage to speak, but are unable to summon any false bravado to keep you from betraying how unnerved he’s got you feeling as he takes another step.

“I know that your best friend cant stand what a spoiled fuckin’ brat you’ve become, I know she’s so fed up with your shit that she’s about to write you off completely”

The defiant expression you’d worn all this time finally starts to falter.

This marks the first time Katsuki has ever seen how you look when your confidence begins to ebb away, only to be replaced with a mixture of uncertainty and fear.

His sadistic side emerges with glee as your now saddened doe eyes meet his.

“You’re constantly disregarding everyone’s opinion of you unless it aligns with your own, but you dont even know what to think of yourself now that your faced with the possibility of being alone now…do you?

You remain silent, taking yet another step back as he continues speaking.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to correct you, but they’ll have to of earned your respect….So when you inevitably step out of line, you wont put up a fight when you get put over their knee”

Your back hits the wall.

You swallow down the panic that slowly begun to rise from your chest up into your throat as you realize there is nowhere left for you to go.

“You desperately want to be a good girl, just dont know how to be one, huh princess?”

It’s so adorable the way your bottom lip juts out, but at the first quiver it quickly gets sucked between your teeth.

“That’s why you’re acting out right now isn’t it?

I bet you drench your cute little panties every time you get a rise out of me. Always hoping that its going to be the time I yank you the fuck up and put this brat in her goddamn place, hah?”

You shamelessly lean into the large hand thats now cupping your cheek, letting out a sigh as his thumb caresses your soft skin.

“Mhmmm”

It’s horrifying how easily you just admitted your most guarded secret! The triumphant smirk he sports makes it even harder to accept.

His tone is surprisingly gentle when he starts addressing you once again;

“I can do that for you baby….Let me be the one that finally brings the princess down on her knees”.

Your eyes are practically sparkling at the feel of a sudden pressure being applied to your throat. His calloused fingers squeezing the delicate skin of your neck, effectively making it harder and harder for you to breathe. The thrill of this foreign feeling is instantly addicting.

“Tell me if thats what you want: If its not then shake your head and we never speak of this again”

Bakugo has to at least give the illusion that you have a choice in the matter. Even though its more than obvious that you need want this just as much as he does.

“I want it, I want you” your words come out in a breathy whisper as he releases his hold on your throat.

“I wanna hear you say it princess, what do you want me to do with you”

“I want…no I NEED you to….t-to make me into your good girl please…”

He gestures for you to continue, his raised brow implying you must be forgetting something.

“Please make me into your good girl….Daddy”

The pleading expression and twinge of desperation in your voice stirs something deep inside Bakugo. It was something akin to the last vestiges of some ancient seal had disappeared: The monster that it had rendered dormant had finally roused from its slumber, intent on wreaking havoc.

“You do understand that you’re mine now right ________? Every part of your being belongs solely to me”

Gorgeous ruby eyes scrutinize your face carefully, searching for a single trace of fear, uncertainty, or possible apprehension. All they found was admiration and girlish excitement, and this earned you a genuine smile from the almost always scowling young man.

“Yes, every part of me belongs to you now Katsuki”

“Better get used to this then”

Before you could inquire what he was referring to, he was kissing you.

❤️‍🔥

A/N: So concludes chapter one

Oh god I hope this is well received.

Should I get a tag list together? Is it too soon? If anyone would be interested leave a comment. SMUT in the next chapter, we’re moving faster here because let’s be honest; Smut is what all of us want! 💦

#katsuki bakugo #bnha #daddy bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #husbando #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #tw daddy kink #tw gaslighting #bakuhoes #Plaguescorrection

77 notes · View notes

dreamsmp-au-ideas · 4 years ago

Note

Ok, so I might as well post the first part now since I already have it. Fun fact, it's four pages in a google docs. I'll give you the second part as soon as I'm done writing it.

Tommy glanced at Cedric questioningly. The older teen just waved him on, leaving the trophy open. Tommy shot another glance at Harry, eyebrow raised. “We’re all champions,” the dark haired teen said. “Besides, you and I never put our names in the Goblet. I don’t see the harm in letting him take the cup.” “No, no,” Cedric said with a small shake of his head. “You two have won basically every challenge so far. You deserve the trophy more than I do.” “Together then,” Tommy said, shifting Harry’s weight and reaching his hand out to Cedric. “After all, we are all Hogwarts champions.” After a moment of hesitation, Cedric accepted the hand, and together the three of them limped towards the Triwizard Cup.

Once they reached it, a glance passed between the three of them, and slowly, they reached out for the Cup. As soon as they did, Tommy felt a sharp tug in his belly button and he was yanked forward. He felt his hand slipping from Harry’s, and he held on tighter. Faintly, he thought he heard Cedric’s voice calling them. Then just as suddenly as it had stopped, the dizzying tug stopped, and dumped Cedric, Harry, and Tommy into a damp field of grass.

It took Tommy a moment to regain his bearing. He was still disoriented, but he saw a small hill rising to his left, dotted with tall, rounded stones. It took him a moment to realize they were graves. He was in a cemetery. His brow furrowed. “Where the hell are we?” he asked, helping Harry to his feet. “I dunno,” Cedric said confusedly. The teen was disoriented, but he seemed to have more of his wits about him than Harry did. “I think someone turned the Cup into a portkey.” “Well, obviously,” Tommy said, hand dipping into his inventory for his sword. “Still doesn’t tell us where we are though.” Suddenly, a small, snake-like voice croaked out, “Kill the spare.”

“Avada Kedavra!” A bolt of sickly green light shot out from behind the graves. It hit Cedric square in the chest before Tommy had even so much as a chance to cry out a warning. The older teen dropped to the ground silently, a tangle of robes and limbs. Harry checked him over, but Tommy could tell by the paleness of his skin that he was already dead.

He drew his sword, but before he could find his enemy, a bolt of red light hit him, and he dropped his blade. Tommy fell to the ground frozen, and after a moment, Harry fell beside him. “Very good, Wormtail,” the same snake-like voice said. “Now, as we discussed.” Tommy heard footsteps, and then there was a small hand twisting into the back of his robes, nails digging into his skin. There was a soft grunt, and then his captor was dragging him across the damp grass. “Tommy,” Harry whispered, scared. “What do we do?”

Tommy’s mind was whirling, but he was frozen. He was frozen in place and at the mercy of Wormtail. There was nothing he could do. Not yet, at least. Suddenly, he was slammed up against something hard and rough. A small shockwave rang through his skull and dirty hands yanked his arms behind him. Coarse rope wrapped around his wrists. The stupify hex he had been hit with was wearing off by now, but he was already trapped. There was nothing he could do. He heard Harry hit the grave next to him with a small thud, and after a moment, he too, was helpless.

Wormtail yanked the teens’ wands from their robes and stuffed them into his pocket. For the first time, Tommy managed to get a good look at where he was. He was at the top of the hill. A mausoleum rose in front of him, a cauldron sitting at the base of the steps, a small bundle fo black cloth at the foot. Wormtail aimed his wand at the base of the cauldron, and flames erupted under its base. Sparks danced across the surface of the water, illuminating the grave in a ghostly white light.

Wormtail bent down and undid the bundle of cloth, lifting a small creature into the air. It was grotesque and only vaguely human shaped. It was the same size as a newborn child, but there was nothing innocent about it. Wormtail raised the thing above the cauldron and gently lowered it into the water. Tommy saw Harry murmuring a prayer under his breath. “Please let it have drowned. Please.” Tommy knew they weren’t that lucky though. He still whispered the prayer anyways.

Wormtail raised his wand slightly and began to recite a spell. “Bone of the father.” The ground at Harry’s feet cracked and greyish white dust floated up. “Unknowingly given.” Tommy craned his neck to see that Harry’s grave read “Tom Riddle.”

“Flesh of the servant,” Wormtail continued, voice beginning to shake. “W-willingly given.” From the fold of his robes, he drew a knife. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, and too late, Tommy realized what he was going to do. He turned away as Wormtail brought the knife down on his arm, and tried to ignore the sounds of metal cutting through muscle, skin, and bone.

Wormtail let out a single whimper of pain, but then he forced himself to his feet and lurched towards Tommy and Harry. The two teens scrambled back, but they had nowhere to go. Tommy’s eyes darted around the graveyard, looking for a solution, but Wormtail was too close. He raised his knife above his head, and Tommy braced for the blow. Instead, the point of the weapon dug into the skin of Harry’s forearm.

A jagged cut stretched from the boy’s elbow to halfway down his forearm, and Wormtail’s knife gleamed red. “Blood of the enemy, unwillingly given.” Wormtail’s voice shook with pain, but he held his knife steady as a drop of blood splashed into the cauldron. “You will resurrect your foe.”

The light of the cauldron suddenly turned to a dark, crimson red and sparks danced along the surface of the water. Wormtail dropped to the ground in a heap, clutching his arm to his chest. Tommy watched as the spell performed it’s magic, hardly daring to breathe.

Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the sparks were gone. White light filled the sky, turning night into day, and thick fog filled the air. From in the cauldron rose a slim figure, everything about it radiating wrongness. Everything in Tommy was screaming to run, but he was trapped. The figure spread its arms and said, “Wormtail.” It was the same snake-like voice as earlier. Wormtail whimpered, but he stumbled to his feet anyways. “Robe me,” the figure commanded. Wormtail grabbed the bundle of cloth and awkwardly slipped it over his master’s shoulder’s. The figure turned around and Tommy finally got a good look at his face.

It was flat, the eyes barely more than slits, nose flat and grotesque. He was pale, paler even than Cedric had been in death. He wasn’t supposed to be here. “Harry,” Tommy whispered, a note of fear beginning to creep into his voice. “Who is that?” “It’s him. He’s back. Lord Voldemort.”

Voldemort slithered over to Wormtail, who was now kneeling on the ground, sleeve of his robes covered in blood. The Dark Lord rested his hand gently on Wormtail’s head, and the man glanced up, pleading in his eyes. “Please, my lord. You-you promised.” “You’re arm, Wormtail,” Voldemort commanded. Wormtail began to extend his injured arm, but at his master’s sharp glance, he bared his other one.

Slowly, the Dark Lord reached for a dark mark that rested in the crook of his servant’s arm. As soon as he touched it, Wormtail doubled over in pain, and Harry cried out scar burning. “That should summon them,” Voldemort said. Then, he smiled. He turned and crept towards Harry and Tommy. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the boy who lived,” he greeted, cupping Harry’s chin in the palm of his hand. The teen’s breathing was shallow, face tight with pain. “How ironic that you’ll die tonight.” There was silence for a moment, but then he turned his attention to Tommy. “Ah, and the fiery friend.” Tommy’s jaw clenched in defiance, but his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Why are we here?” he spat, struggling against his bindings. He had an axe in his inventory, but it would do him no good if he was still trapped.

Voldemort shook his head as if he was explaining something to a child. It irritated Tommy. “Well, you see, I needed the famous Harry Potter here for the ritual. And now that he’s served his purpose, It’ll be my pleasure to finally finish what I started the night I killed his parents.”

Harry still looked terrified, but Tommy could see the hint of anger that crept into his eyes at the mention of his parents. “And I needed you,” Voldemort continued, digging his fingers into Tommy’s hair, and forcing the teen to meet his eyes. “Because a very special ally of mine requested your presence here tonight.” “W-what ally?” Tommy hated the fear in his voice. Voldemort laughed softly under his breath. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll understand in no time. After all, he seems quite certain the two of you know each other.”

Suddenly, a loud crack filled the air, and Tommy glanced up to see that a figure in dark robes and white skull-like mask had appeared in front of the mausoleum. “Ah,” Voldemort said, standing to greet the newcomer. “You’ve finally arrived.” More cracks filled the air, and a few seconds later, a total of fourteen death eaters stood in the clearing.

Voldemort examined them and no one dared utter a word. Then he rattled off a list of names that Tommy didn’t recognize as he surveyed his servants. He paused on one at the end of the line. “Lucius,” he greeted. “Wonderful that you could join us tonight.” The Death Eater shuffled awkwardly, but didn’t say anything. So Malfoy’s dad really was a Death Eater. Tommy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the kid.

Voldemort’s gaze drifted towards the Death Eater at the back. They were different from the others; their cloak was bulkier and their mask sent a shiver of fear down Tommy’s spine. “So you came yourself,” Voldemort said, a hint of surprise to his voice. The Death Eater simply nodded. “So,” the Dark Lord said, now addressing the whole group. “You are my most loyal followers. How disappointing. Of course, there are those who are still trapped in Azkaban. And we mustn't forget our two fellows trapped at Hogwarts. But so few of you heeded my call. I must say, I was expecting more.” No one said anything.

After a moment, Voldemort said, “I have called you here today, not only to see that your master has been resurrected, but also so that you may finally see me triumph over the great Harry Potter.” An excited murmur ran through the group. “Wormtail,” Voldemort commanded. “Free the boy. Return his wand. It would be best to kill him in a duel. Prove once and for all that I am stronger than a pathetic teenager.”

Wormtail did as he was told, freeing Harry from his bindings, and shoving the boy’s wand roughly into his hand. Harry was clearly still disoriented, and Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if the teen’s scar was brutally painful. He was shaking, injured leg barely supporting his weight, but Harry looked every inch a match for Voldemort. He stepped towards his adversary, and the Death Eaters closed around the two, blocking them from sight. There was silence for a moment, but then two voices shouted “Avada Kedavra!”

Tommy’s fingers worked at the knots frantically, desperately trying to free himself. If only he could get his axe, he could help Harry. Finally, he felt the rope fall away and loosen. But before he could draw his weapon, the strange Death Eater stalked towards him, sword drawn. Tommy leapt to his feet, yanking his axe out of his inventory, and barely raising it in time to block the blow.

The metal of the Death Eater’s blade dug into the hilt of his axe, splintering the wood. Tommy twisted his own weapon, disentangling himself from the Death Eater’s blade. He stumbled back, dodging the Death Eater's thrust at his abdomen. He caught the edge of the sword on the crook of his axe, and twisted it upwards, knocking the sword from his opponent's grasp. He slammed the hilt of his axe into the Death Eater’s head, and the wizard stumbled back with a grunt.

Now the other Death Eater’s began taking notice and drew their wands. Before Tommy could do anything though, the air filled with phoenix song, and everyone turned to see a net of golden light surrounding Harry and Voldemort as they rose into the air.

Tommy took advantage of the distraction to make his way over to Wormtail, Quickly he searched the man’s robes for his wand, and sighed in relief once he found it. Unfortunately, the Death Eater’s had recovered from their shock, and stunning spells were flying past Tommy.

He dove to the ground as curses flew over him, firing back at as many targets as he could. At least three of his spells hit, and the volley of curses lessened just enough that Tommy was able to scramble to his feet.

He fired spells blindly as he sprinted down the hill, trying to reach the sword he had dropped. A jelly-legs jinx curse hit, and suddenly, he was tumbling head over heels down the hillside. He crashed into a gravestone, knocking it askew. Quickly, he cast the counter curse and scrambled to his feet. He braced himself for more spells, but none came. He turned his attention towards the top of the hill.

The phoenix sound had grown louder, and the light from Harry and Voldemort’s wand was blindingly bright. The two weapons were connected with a beam of golden light, and figures surrounded Harry, protecting him. Tommy couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw Cedric among them. Suddenly, the net dissolved, and Harry dropped to the ground. “Harry!” Tommy cried out, worried.

Suddenly, the dark-haired teen came sprinting out from the mass of Death Eaters, green Avada Kedavra spells just barely missing him. “Harry!” Tommy called again, waving to him. Harry dove to the ground, rolling down the hill, trying to dodge the killing spells. Tommy scooped up his sword, and dropped his axe into his inventory. Behind him, the Triwizard cup began to glow blue. “Tommy!” Harry yelled frantically, skidding to a stop at his friend's side. “We need to get out of here!”

Tommy nodded, and pointed to the portkey. “It’ll take us home. But we need to go. Now.” Harry nodded. He grabbed the portkey, other hand resting on Cedric’s back. At the very least, the boy deserved to be brought back to his family. Tommy grabbed the other handle of the Cup, and suddenly, he was yanked forward. It was only then did he realize that the strange Death Eater’s robes were green. Green robes and a white mask.

-Gemstone Anon.

Oh my god. Okay. This is beautiful. I have read this like 10 times now. Oh my god. This is- This is brilliant.

#dream smp #dream smp au #gremlins in hogwarts au #harry potter #tommyinnit #ask #long post #gemstone anon #fanfic #drabble #i don't know if it drabble or fanfic #so here we go #this is amazing

134 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Built on a Lie

Prompt: I like the possible idea of Janus being a absolutely crushed to find Roman bleeding out due to a bruised ego in his room after pof was uploaded. After all most Sander Sides Fans hated Roman after he mocked Janus's Name.

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: arguably roceit i guess??? it’s just focused on them, can be platonic or romantic if you want. same with LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Warnings: sympathitic janus even if it might not seem like it, sympathetic feral protective remus, roman is a hurt boi

Word Count: 5010

The wedding is tough.

After the wedding is an ordeal.

After after the wedding…hurts.

The Mindscape is all but deserted. No one wants to come out to the common areas for risk of running into someone who they had…disagreements with or getting swept up in a painfully awkward conversation. Patton lingers in the kitchen, Virgil almost never opens his door, Logan works, and Remus, well…Remus is the only one still behaving as normal.

Janus is grateful for his consistency.

In all honesty, and oh, the irony, he doesn’t enjoy this. He doesn’t enjoy the others walking on eggshells constantly, nor does he thrill at how they seem to jump at everyone, not just him. His point was made. That is his job.

But he’s not so sure he fully anticipated the cost.

At the very least, Logan seems to get over their troubles first. He approaches Janus a few days after the wedding and offers one of his philosophy books. Janus accepts it gratefully and by the time he’s finished it, Logan starts talking again. It’s not the greatest thing for the Mindscape that Logan is willing to talk to the others again.

Patton comes around next, simply because he’s the kindest. Janus pities him a little for it. But sure enough, the common areas start to ring again, drawing Remus out from the depths to cause his chaos.

Virgil appears next, summoned by the repeated calling of Remus’s antics and Janus’s exasperation. And sometimes, well, sometimes it seems like they’re back in their hallway, with Patton and Logan looking on with the air of some bemused anthropologists.

All the Sides reemerge and start trying to figure out what’s going on except for Roman.

Roman is nowhere to be found.

“He…he just needs some more time, I’m sure.”

“Roman is prone to fits of dramatics. It is unsurprising that he chooses to have a repeat performance.”

“Princey’s a bit of an asshole, it’s gonna take him a while to own up to what he did.”

“Catch!”

Janus grunts and staggers under Remus’s weight, eventually getting them both with their feet back under them on the floor. He adjusts his hat and looks disapprovingly at the amount of slime Remus has managed to get all over himself.

“What were you even doing?”

“Exploring the precise relationship of viscera to ventricles inside the heart of a blue whale!” Remus shakes his sleeve. “They lied about how bit the veins and arteries are.”

“How did you—nevermind,” Janus sighs, “I don’t want to know. Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Not paying attention.”

“…Roman’s not or you’re not?”

“I’m not!” He flicks some slime at Janus’s hat. “But you should be!”

“Yes, well, when slime starts to emerge from every corner again, I’ll chase you down.”

“Ooh, promises, promises.”

Janus doesn’t hurl some of the slime at Remus as he sinks out.

Roman still hasn’t appeared and the others are starting to notice. Thomas isn’t exactly in a position to do a whole lot of things, but at the very least he’s not doing what he perhaps should have been capable of. Logan notices and at first, chalks it up to the fact that they are in a pandemic; lapses in peak physical and mental performance are not unexpected, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s a little more than that.

The Mindscape grows dimmer, more sluggish. Thomas doesn’t seem to want to do much of anything, let alone work.

“I don’t understand,” Patton mumbles one afternoon when they meet—sans Roman—to try and figure out what’s going on, “I know I’m having a few—um, it’s not Thomas’s feelings that are causing us problems.”

Janus doesn’t make a note of how Virgil quickly presses his arm against Patton’s shoulder.

“There are certain things that are to be expected under times of great stress,” Logan muses, “and certainly any pre-existing problems will be exacerbated, but…this was not anticipated.”

Remus cranks the chainsaw and sets about carving up a new slice of…whatever he’s working on. “We’re in a pandemic, Spectacles!”

“I am wildly aware.”

Virgil stares at the chainsaw—which is fair—then up to Remus. “You ever been in a pandemic before, Remus?”

“Nope!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Okay, so that makes sense. But L’s right, this feels…weird. Like we’re missing something pretty big.”

In unison, they all look towards Roman’s seat.

The room falls as quiet as it can with Remus’s chainsaw still in the background.

The big, red, overstuffed armchair looks…different, without Roman lounging in it. The blinds aren’t drawn but it looks like the coloring has faded significantly, as though it’s been out in the sun for far too long. The seams look as though they’re struggling and there’s a dark imprint on one of the arms.

It’s not a shock to Janus to discover he’s never really looked at the chair before.

“Has anyone heard from Roman,” Logan asks quietly, “since the wedding?”

Virgil shakes his head, glancing around. Patton looks down at his chest.

“You think this is Roman.” It’s not a question.

“HIs tantrums do not normally last for this long,” Logan continues, adjusting his tie, “and whilst I admit that perhaps our circumstances have contributed more than I anticipated, I do not believe that is how Roman feels.”

“Princey has been away for a really long time.”

“Thomas is starting to get hurt by it,” Patton mumbles, laying a hand on his chest, “I can—I’m starting to feel it a little.”

“So we need to get Princey’s head out of his ass again.”

Logan sighs. “Most likely.”

“I didn’t want to rush it,” Patton says, glancing at Janus, “but you guys are right. I think he’s being selfish now.”

At the word ‘selfish,’ Remus freezes.

The chainsaw splutters and dies to the floor with a heavy clunk.

“Remus,” Patton scolds, “be careful with the…”

He trails off when he notices what the rest of them have.

Remus is standing completely still—an impossibility for Remus—his head tilted back, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. His nose quivers, almost like a bloodhound.

His nose twitches.

His lip curls up into a snarl.

His morning star appears in his hand with a growl as he tears off toward the stairs.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Wait!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Remus!”

Janus closes his eyes, reaching out to see if he can tell where Remus is going. His eyes shoot open.

“Roman’s room. Now.”

Virgil grabs Logan and Patton and sinks out.

Janus tries to appear in Roman’s room only to hit something burning cold. He hisses and flinches away from it, only to realize that he hasn’t materialized properly and is stuck. The burning cold reaches further, further, into his scales, digging under them, until Janus yanks himself away and appears, panting, in the hallway outside Roman’s door.

Virgil appears too, still holding the others. “What the fuck was that?”

“Did he block us out?”

“None of us have the ability to do that, other than Thomas.”

“Did he get Thomas to block us out?”

“I don’t know!”

A loud crash jerks their attention to Remus. He raises his morning star again and drives the spikes deep into the bright red of Roman’s door.

…that isn’t nearly as bright as it should be.

Remus snarls again and wails against the door. The wood starts to creak and buckle under the onslaught. He hefts the weapon again and shatters the door with a thunderous crack.

The morning star is hastily flung aside as Remus claws at the splintered wood, yanking it away from the hole he’s made.

The door groans and yields.

Remus rushes through, Virgil on his heels. Patton and Logan attempt to follow only to run smack into both of them.

“Why’d you stop, kiddos, we can’t—“

“Let us through, why did you—“

When those two fight their way through and into silence, Janus sighs and gingerly steps through, nudging Logan and Virgil aside to look at what’s got them so shocked. Roman in the middle of a sobbing mess of tissues, probably, or an empty room signifying he’s gone off on some quest in the Imagination, or even a pouting Roman glaring at them for ruining his door.

He gets around Virgil’s shoulder and his blood runs cold. Burning cold.

If they weren’t in Roman’s room, he’s not sure he’d be able to recognize this as Roman.

His pristine white costume is stained an ugly brown. The gold trimmings fall limply off, hating on by barely a thread. His hair sticks to the floor in horrid, matted clumps. His hands are speckled and stained with more blood, some congealed and crusted from the puddle on the floor. His legs bend at awkward and uncomfortable angles. One of his arms is stretched away from, reaching for something.

Or anything.

They dare not move. They dare hardly breathe.

Remus takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. He circles the body on the floor, not caring about stepping in the blood, crouching down on the far side. His face is drawn, paler than Janus has ever seen it go, he looks sick.

If…if Remus looks this bad—

Remus looks up at the others. His face darkens.

“Explain,” he whispers, his voice low and soft and dangerous, “now.”

No one can find words to even try.

When no one says anything, Remus crouches down and, with a tenderness that shocks Janus, lays his hand on Roman’s side.

“Roman,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Ro-Bro, it’s—it’s me.”

“Wha’re you…here?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Remus growls, looking up at them again, “maybe no one was.”

“’S fine.”

“Roman, it is about the furthest from fine that it could be.”

“…’ve had worse.”

“…okay I was wrong. That is the furthest from fine it could be.”

Judging by the way Roman’s body slumps, his eyes must fall closed again. “You c’n go. D’n’t have to stay.”

“Not on your life.”

“’S fine, Re,” Roman slurs, “the others will…wonder where you are.”

Remus stiffens. His hand tenses on Roman’s side.

“No,” he says softly, “they won’t.”

Roman twitches, his head rolling up. “‘M sorry, Re.”

“What the absolute fuck are you apologizing to me for?”

“Thought they’d…care.” Roman’s head waivers and drop back down. “‘Bout you.”

Patton can’t stifle his whimper.

Roman twitches again. “Wha…”

“They’re not gonna wonder where I am,” Remus growls, “because they’re here.”

Roman’s going to panic. He’s going to freak out and they’ll have to reassure him. Or Roman’s going to be angry and they’ll have to stop him from hurting himself. Or he won’t believe Remus and that…that might be the worst.

…Janus should really stop thinking that.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re they here, Re,” Roman mumbles, his body sagging to the floor again, “‘m I late for s’mething?”

Remus snarls and Roman flinches.

“Don’ be mad, Re, please, ‘m sorry—“

“I’m not mad at you, Roman.”

“But you’re mad.”

“No.” Remus stares at them, his voice still even and soft. “I’m enraged.”

Before they can say anything, Roman hisses and jerks. Remus’s hands instantly flit to Roman, searching for whatever’s hurt him.

“What’s happening, Ro,” he growls, “whose ass do I need to kick?”

“You can’t,” Roman wheezes, “can’ stop it.”

“The hell I can.”

“No, you—you actually can’t,” Roman says, reaching for Remus’s hand, “help—help me sit up?”

“Ro, you’re—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“’S fine.”

“I don’t think it is!”

“Please?”

Remus sighs, gingerly wrapping his arms around Roman’s bruised and bloody body. “Come on then.”

Roman’s costume clings to the floor and his back as they sit up, the stain darkening and drying on the belly of his tunic. His head lolls against Remus’s chest, breathing heavily for a moment before he finally looks up.

Oh, his face…

It’s an absolute mess. Blood and salt and other things Janus couldn’t hope to figure out cling to every scrap of skin they can as he squints at them.

“You broke my door.”

“You were in trouble,” Remus replies easily, hoisting Roman to sit properly.

Roman sighs, his breath rattling. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“We…” Logan swallows. “We just came from one.”

“Oh.” Roman closes his eyes. “I’ll…gimme a minute, I’ll—“

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I gotta do the meeting, Re.”

“The hell you do.”

“You—you don’t have to worry about the meeting, Roman,” Logan says firmly, taking a step closer, “we—what happened to you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What does he mean?” Virgil explodes. “Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Roman hisses again. “Don’ have to shout, Virgil.”

“Of fucking course I have to shout! Look at you!”

“I believe that might be more of a reason not to shout,” Logan says quietly. Virgil huffs, balling his hands up into fists.

“What the fuck happened, Roman,” Virgil repeats, “and don’t pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Roman sighs again, something whistling, what happened to him?—and sits up away from Remus. “I can’ shout, come closer.”

Logan and Virgil immediately walk forward, crouching down a respectful distance away. Patton takes a moment longer, creeping forward and reaching out a trembling hand toward Roman.

“K-kiddo,” he mumbles, “I’m so—so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“’S okay,” Roman slurs, leaning back against Remus, “’s okay, Pat.”

“Patton?” Logan turns. “What do you know?”

“Yeah, Patton,” Remus growls, “why don’t you tell us.”

Patton shrinks back. “I—I—“

“Shh,” Roman mumbles, clumsily patting Remus’s hand, “don’ do that, ’s okay.”

“No, Roman, it’s not.”

“...kiddo?”

Roman nods.

Patton takes a deep breath. “You guys know that—how Roman gets hurt sometimes when Thomas does something that, uh, doesn’t turn out great?”

“We all get hurt, Pat,” Virgil says, “that doesn’t explain this.”

As if on cue, Roman hisses again.

“No, no, Virgil,” Patton mumbles, “it’s—Roman’s the only one who gets physically hurt when this stuff happens.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he looks at Roman’s injuries. “Of course…”

Despite everything, Roman smiles tiredly up at him. “Figure it out?”

“You’re the Ego,” Logan mumbles, “and thus it follows that you would get…bruised.”

“Wait, that’s a literal thing?”

“Apparently so.”

“Jeez, Princey,” Virgil mumbles, “you coulda told me.”

“You were busy, didn’t wanna give you anything else to worry ‘bout.”

“That’s not—Roman—“

“But Thomas has been inside,” Logan interjects quickly, “alone, he hasn’t—we haven’t done anything since the pandemic began.”

“It’s a pandemic, Lo,” Roman says, “no one’s doing much of anything…besides staying inside, reading things, watching things…”

“So how is this happening to you, Roman,” Patton says, wringing his hands, “what—what’s doing this to Thomas?”

“Fuck,” Virgil says, burying his hands in his hair, “Princey has this been happening to you since the wedding?”

“Mm,” Roman hums, leaning heavily against Remus.

“People are watching the video,” Logan whispers, “and they’re—well, they’re talking about it.”

“Are they—are they still saying Thomas should’ve…” Paton gulps. “Done something different?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m sure they are but Thomas…Thomas hasn’t been looking at the comments from the video, not really. Virgil and I have specifically told him not to.”

“So then why is Thomas still being hurt by it? Why are people still attacking Thomas?”

“Not—“ their heads all jerk around to look at Roman— “not Thomas.”

He waves a hand at himself.

“Wouldn’t be like this if it were them attacking Thomas.”

“Then what—“

“They’re attacking you?” Virgil’s eyes go wide as they scan over Roman’s injuries. “Directly?”

“Mm.”

“Oh, kiddo—“

“Princey, what the hell—“

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve—“

“What for?”

In response, Roman’s eyes raise slowly, and look at Janus.

Everyone else follows, looking back toward the door, realizing that Janus hadn’t moved closer with the rest of them.

Roman’s gaze isn’t cold, but it makes him feel cold.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“My name,” Janus breathes, “it’s…they’re mad at you because of me.”

“Told you,” Roman slurs as his eyes close again, “gotta come closer. Can’ shout like this.”

Janus swallows heavily, his throat dry, clutching his cloak tightly around him as he edges closer. Roman mumbles to himself until Janus is close enough to hear him.

“There we go…” He cracks a bloodied eye open. “You’re right. They’re angry at me. Rightfully so, but…yeah.”

“Because you made fun of my name?”

They all rush forward as Roman keens, his hand flying to his gut and hissing.

“Fuck, Princey, is it—is it still happening?”

“Mhm.”

“How do we—how do we stop it?”

“Can’t,” Roman mumbles, “wasn’t lying. Nothing you can do. Not until it’s over.”

“It’s been ages since the wedding, Roman, how much longer is this going to go on?”

Roman makes a vague noise of ‘I don’t know.’

“But—but—“ Logan looks frantically back and forth between them— “surely they can’t all be angry at you, that would be—“

“They’re not,” Roman mumbles, “not all of them, but it’s—it’s most of them.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some of them really don’t like me—“ Roman hisses again— “some of them really like J-Janus or Remus or…or Logan, or Patton—“

“What?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“And some of them just think that it’s—what I did was—“ Roman stifles a whimper, biting his lip— “really bad.”

“But then why…why aren’t the rest of us being affected like this?”

“You’re not the Ego.”

Remus snarls again as Roman jerks, a new bruise blooming on the underside of his neck.

“…ow.”

“We have to get you cleaned up,” Logan mutters shakily, trying to stand.

“Not much point right now,” Roman sighs, absentmindedly nuzzling into Remus, who tightens his grip protectively around Roman, “‘m just gonna get all messy again.”

“Not if we stay with you,” Logan promises, “not if we help.”

“…don’ have to.”

“What the hell are you—“ Virgil shakes his head. “Of course, we’re gonna help you, Roman.”

Roman just looks at them and closes his eyes.

“Ro—kiddo,” Patton says, reaching out for him, “why don’t you believe us?”

“You haven’t exactly…done that before.”

“We didn’t know!”

“You did.”

Patton’s retort dies in his throat. He looks desperately around for something, anything—

Janus is in shock.

Roman…oh, Roman…Janus knew Roman was the Ego, but he didn’t—he hadn’t—

Fuck, were the bruises from what he said still there? Not—not just that awful, awful thing about comparing Roman to Remus, but…from before?

How many times had Janus hurt Roman…and hadn’t cared?

“…I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan murmurs, breaking the silence, “will you let me help now?”

Roman looks up at him. “I’ve been awful to you,” he mumbles, “you don’—don’ have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan says, “because you’ve been wonderful to me too…and I am not blameless in this either.”

“But they don’t know that.”

“I do,” Logan says firmly, “and they will.”

The smallest smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s mouth as Logan stands up to go fetch the first aid kit.

“Princey, I—Roman,” Virgil stammers, “fuck, you—oh my god—“

“I’ve been awful to you too, Virgil.”

“And I’ve been fucking worse right back!” Virgil squeezes his hands tight. “And I—you’re the only one who gets yelled at for it. Fuck, I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, I’m gonna—can I help too?”

“…if you want.”

“I’m gonna go help Logan get the shit,” Virgil mutters, getting to his feet and tearing out after Logan.

“…oh, kiddo…”

Patton’s eyes begin to tear up.

“I thought—I thought you needed more time—“

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Pat,” Roman manages, “it’s not fun, trust me.”

Patton’s laugh comes out more like a sob.

“I won’t hold it against you, and you can—“ Roman hisses again— “help if you want.”

“Do you think you can drink something?”

“…I’ll try.”

Patton’s gone in a flash.

Janus looks at Remus. Remus glares at him and pulls Roman closer.

“…we should…try and get some of that off,” Janus tries, “so we can see what, um…”

Remus’s stony silence as Roman starts to drift again cuts off Janus’s words.

“…Remus…”

“You are very, very lucky,” Remus whispers, cutting him off, “that I’m not about to leave my brother’s side for a long time.”

Janus nods.

“Start on the buttons,” Remus says, “at his wrists. I’m not sure how much of this we can save.”

He immediately sets to work, trying to communicate how sorry, sorry, sorry he is with every gentle brush of his fingers against Roman’s skin. Remus summons something for them to lean Roman against as they start to gingerly remove the tunic. It’s worse than Janus thought.

Roman is one big pulsing wound, little nicks here and there and varying shades of purple, red, green, yellow, all coming from one massive sore in the center of him. As they watch, more injuries appear, little bruises that make his breath hitch, and occasionally a small swipe along his ribs. As Janus works the cuff over his wrist, one of his fingers blackens and swells as it breaks.

“Oh, Roman…”

“Sit up, Ro,” Remus whispers tenderly, peeling and unsticking the tunic from his back, “okay, there we go. Are most of them…up here?”

“They all look to be coming from…that,” Janus says, indicating the giant wound, “so…”

And indeed, as they watch, Roman keens again and the wound deepens, more blood beginning to trickle out.

“Are all of these—“ Janus indicates the injuries littering Roman’s body— “comments?”

“Mm.”

“Then what—why is this one…?”

Roman’s eyes drift closed and his head lolls back.

“’Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache.”

No.

“’Otherwise, between you and Remus—‘” Roman winces as the wound digs deeper— “‘I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.’”

…no…

Janus reaches out a trembling hand and lays it next to the wound. It’s…it’s warm under his touch but…wrong.

A snarl jerks his hand back and he looks up to see Remus glaring at him.

“Remus—“

“Save it.” Remus glances toward the door. “The others will be back in a moment anyway.”

Sure enough, Logan and Virgil bust through the broken door, their hands full. Logan immediately sweeps his gaze over Roman and kneels down, reaching out.

“May I touch you, Roman?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Logan slots a hand gently behind Roman’s hand. “We’re going to try and get the blood off of you first, alright?”

“Mm.”

“This might sting,” Logan cautions, starting to rub an antiseptic towel down Roman’s arm, “my apologies.”

Virgil takes another one and carefully cleans Roman’s other arm, mindful of his broken finger. As they work, Patton reappears, holding a bottle of water and a glass of juice.

“Come on, kiddo,” he says softly, taking Logan’s place behind Roman’s head, “drink this for me?”

Roman manages a few sips of each.

“Good job, kiddo, there you go…” Patton glances down. “Does it seem to be stopping at all?”

As if it can hear him, the wound starts to bleed again.

“Oh, Roman…”

Logan glances between the wound and Janus, his brow furrowed.

Please, Logan, for once…don’t be so smart.

The way Logan’s eyes widen and narrow say that it’s too late.

“This one seems to be the origin,” Logan says instead, turning away, “all the others seem to stem from it.”

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “so what’s that one?”

Janus’s mouth runs dry as Logan turns to him expectantly.

“Well,” Remus growls, “go on.”

“I don’t—what if it just makes it worse?”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“I didn’t—“

“Oh, shut up,” Remus cuts him off, “you knew. You knew.”

“Remus—“

“You wanna know how I know that?” Remus draws away from Roman just enough to clench his fists. “Because I found you after the wedding. You were all curled up on the floor and you were so upset.”

Roman stirs. “…Re…”

“And I asked you why, and you said it was because Roman made fun of your name,” Remus continues, “and I thought: ‘huh, that feels a little weird. Where have I heard that before?’”

Patton shrinks out of Remus’s line of sight.

“Then I remembered! The courtroom,” Remus continues, a manic smile on his face, “and your little plan to make sure Roman felt like he had no idea what was going on.”

“…J, what is he talking about?”

“Oh, he’s not going to tell you,” Remus says, “but I will.”

“Remus—“

“You said that you knew Roman,” Remus says, talking right over him, “and you knew that if you pushed him in the right direction, you’d be able to get him to listen to you easily.”

Even Logan pauses.

“Do you remember what you said, Janny?” Remus’s eyes bore into Janus’s mind. “Do you?”

“…Remus, please.”

Remus’s grin drops.

“You said,” he whispers, “that if you just fucked with his name, he’d be in the palm of your hand.”

And he was.

"Conveniently, everyone seems to have forgotten that. Forgotten what you did. Or they don't care."

Remus tightens his grip on Roman.

"But not me."

Guilt presses hot and thick against Janus’s throat. Unbidden, huge, fat tears start to form in his eyes as he stares at the wound on Roman’s gasping chest. Distantly, he thinks he can hear the others muttering but all he can think about is how much of this is a lie.

Roman isn’t the evil twin.

Roman isn’t Remus.

Roman isn’t stupid.

Roman isn’t worthless.

Roman isn’t a toy or a puppet or a tool.

Roman isn’t selfish or greedy or arrogant.

Roman is hurt and scared and Janus is so, so sorry.

He lets out a growl of his own and presses his hand hard to the wound.

Lie. Lie.

This is a lie.

Truth is hard and unyielding and painful but nothing is more painful than knowing that all of this is built on a lie.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, his hands trembling as he presses it against the wound, searching, searching for—

There.

He closes his fist around the lie and yanks, pulling the words and the hurt and the ache out of Roman’s chest in a bright flash.

When it’s gone, Roman’s chest is heaving, bruises still littering his torso, but the big wound is nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Janus clenches his fist until the lie shatters into pieces, the shard disappearing into harmless puffs of air.

He looks back.

Logan and Patton are staring at him open-mouthed. Virgil has his hands bunched up in his hoodie. Remus just stares at him, his face unreadable.

And Roman…

Roman looks up at him, panting too, but it doesn’t feel quite so wrong anymore.

“I can’t promise that this one won’t hurt you ever anymore,” he vows, “but I can promise that it will never have that much power again.”

Roman reaches out a hand. Janus lets him pull him closer.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

Janus huffs. “I can also promise that you’re not nearly as sorry as I am.”

They let their eyes fall closed as Janus’s hands steady Roman, landing lightly on his sides and just resting there. Roman tips forward and his forehead lands against Janus’s.

For a second, the room just breathes.

“Can we clean you up,” Janus whispers, “the rest of the way?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, Roman,” Logan says instantly, “what do you need?”

“Can I—wanna sleep.”

“I don’t think you’ve got a concussion, so that should be alright…” Logan glances at Patton. “Let’s have you drink a little more and then you can rest, hmm?”

“Okay.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton coaxes, “here we go…”

As Virgil and Logan set about cleaning again, Janus runs his hands slowly over every injury he can, plucking out what little lies there are and sending them away. He can tell by the weight of Remus’s stare on him that he’s not in the clear yet, but the way Roman starts to sag slowly makes it easier.

“Alright,” Logan murmurs after a while, “I think that’s all we can do.”

“…sleep?”

“Yes, Roman, you can sleep now. Would you like us to help you to your bed?”

Roman blinks, his hand reaching out for— “Re?”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“Re…” Roman mumbles sleepily as he all but collapses into Remus.

“…yeah I’m okay with that.”

Logan jerks his head towards Roman’s mattress. Together, they drag it down to the floor and help Remus get Roman onto it. Logan murmurs that he’s going to go put the first aid kit away, but that he’ll be right back. Patton gathers up the glasses and leaves with the same promise.

Virgil glances back and forth between Remus and Janus.

“…you guys remember that this is about what Roman needs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good.”

Virgil reaches out to brush a little of Roman’s hair out of his face.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Logan and Patton reappear at the door and slot themselves in around the mattress. Remus looks at Janus.

Janus deliberately sits between Roman and the door, something he’s seen Remus do too many times.

Remus nods.

This conversation is far from over, but right now…

Right now, Roman mumbles sleepily and grabs onto Remus’s sleeve.

There is truly so much that they never see, isn’t there? Logan wasn’t wrong, the amount of Roman that’s never been on camera is truly staggering.

Janus has let that lie of omission cause too much damage for too long.

Right now, he’s got work to do.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @private-snippers @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #lamp #dlamp #dlampr #roceit

356 notes · View notes

theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 4 years ago

Note

3rd life Villain!Impulse perhaps? Reasoning because he's been so nice to all factions and appears very harmless...until he kills Tango in the firing squad scenario. Do with that as you will :3

honestly i think the villain 3rd Life AUs are some of my best writing. also i’m pretty sure i’m gonna end up writing everyone as a villain at some point lol (villains so far: Scar, Etho, Tango, Grian, Ren, Martyn, now Impulse. Joel too if you count that fic where he kills Jimmy)

…

A feeling of dread hangs over Impulse as he makes his way up to Tango’s base. Getting a private message from his best friend, simply saying “we need to talk”, has highly unsettled him. He has absolutely no idea what Tango could want to talk to him about.”

As he gets to the hill Tango calls home, he spots Tango himself standing at the top, arms folded, clearly watching him. A shiver running down his spine, Impulse slowly climbs up the hill. Tango watches him all the way.

Finally, he gets to the top. Keeping an eye on the sun, which must be about an hour away from setting, he gives his friend a wave. “Hi, Tango. What’s… What’s going on?”

Tango’s looking at him with a narrow-eyed expression of distrust. “I know your game, Impulse.”

“Huh?” Impulse blinks. That’s not what he was expecting. “What?”

“Your little game of pretending to be allies with everyone so nobody will ever turn against you. Etho, Dogwarts, the crastle folk. You’ve got them all wrapped round your little finger.”

Impulse frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tango rolls his eyes. “Uh huh, ‘course you don’t. You change the sheet music for everyone, don’t you? Everyone believes they’re the only one getting your support. Well, not me. I know what you’re up to and I’m gonna make sure you stop getting away with it, starting today.”

As Tango turns to start walking away, Impulse grabs his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “Please don’t, Tango,” he says calmly.

Tango scoffs. “Let go of me, Impulse. I’m gonna expose you whether you like it or not.”

Impulse hangs on to Tango’s wrist. “I’m giving you one last chance to back down. You’re red; if something happens to you, you won’t come back.”

“You’re not gonna stop me,” Tango retorts. “I know you. Your niceness has always been your biggest weakness, and in this case, it’s gonna be your downfall.”

“You’ve misjudged me.”

Impulse abruptly seizes Tango’s lapels and roughly swings him closer to the edge of the cliff, holding him dangerously close to the precipice. “I‘ll do anything to survive,” Impulse says coldly. “Anything.”

Tango’s eyes widen with shock. “Impulse-!”

But Impulse shoves him off the top of the cliff.

He waits for a few seconds, listening to Tango’s screams get quieter and quieter, until they’re abruptly cut off.

Tango fell from a high place

Taking a deep breath, Impulse takes off running. He doesn’t know if there’s anyone nearby but he can’t risk it. If anyone sees him here, he’s done for. Absolutely done for.

The chat is filling up with confused and concerned messages but it doesn’t matter now. Tango is gone forever. Nobody ever needs to know what happened.

Impulse dashes back towards the wool castle but as he passes Tango’s still-gushing lava minigame, he bumps into Etho, who’s running the other way.

“Impulse!” Etho breathes. “Gosh, you scared me. What happened?”

Despite internally panicking quite hard, Impulse manages to stammer, “I-I dunno, I was just going to Tango’s base to talk to him when I saw the message. I thought he might have been somewhere around here but I couldn’t find any dropped items or anything. He must’ve been somewhere else when he died.”

“Tango doesn’t just fall from a high place like that,” Etho says. “He’s careful. Impulse, I’m worried that someone might have murdered him.”

“What?!” Impulse gasps. “Who would do that?!”

“I don’t know for sure, but my prime suspect is the crastle alliance. Bdubs had it out for Tango for some reason so I’m sure he knows something.”

“Oh no…” Impulse stares at his friend with wide, innocent eyes. “Bdubs wouldn’t have taken TWO of Tango’s lives… would he?”

Etho slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know. I thought I knew our friends really well but lately, I…” He sighs quietly. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past him. But it’s getting late; I’ll go talk to him tomorrow.”

He turns back towards the castle. “You coming?”

“I‘ll be there later. I’m just gonna go check on my villagers.”

“Gotcha. And Impulse…”

Impulse pauses as Etho glances back at him. “Thanks for being the only person on this server I can really trust.”

Impulse smiles back. “No problem.”

…

Under the cover of darkness, Impulse makes his way to the crastle. He can see Cleo up on the roof, aiming a crossbow at him, but thankfully, she lowers it when he gets close enough for her to see who he is.

Cleo and Bdubs let Impulse into the crastle. “What’s going on, Impulse?” Bdubs demands. “Nobody seems to know what happened to Tango!”

“Nobody’s owning up to knowing, anyway,” Cleo adds. “I don’t suppose you do?”

Impulse shakes his head. “I’ve no idea. But I’ve heard rumours going round the server and I thought I should come to you directly to let you know.”

“Let us know what?” Bdubs says.

“That Etho suspects you guys had something to do with Tango’s death.”

“What?!”

Bdubs and Cleo exchange a shocked look.

“Why would he think that?!” Bdubs snaps. “He has no evidence!”

“That’s why I thought I should come over and warn you,” says Impulse. “He’s gonna come over here tomorrow to confront you about it.”

“Oh gawsh…” Bdubs groans. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Oh, but this is just to give you some warning to prepare. You can’t let Etho know I told you, okay? Otherwise he might not tell me other stuff that concerns you guys.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Cleo says. “If we’re your secret girlfriend, does that mean Etho’s your… uh… spouse?”

“I don’t really have a singular “spouse”,” responds Impulse, making air quotes over the word “spouse”. “More like the rest of the server is my “spouse” and I can’t let them know that I favour you over them.”

“Riiiight, gotcha. Guess you’d better head home before your “spouse” misses you.”

Impulse nods. “Yeah, I gotta go back to Etho. See you guys later.”

As he leaves the crastle and starts to head for home, he spots a figure watching him from next to one of Bdubs’s tall spruce trees. When the figure comes forward, Impulse recognises the person as Joel.

“Hi,” he says, giving a friendly smile. Joel isn’t one of his official allies at the moment but that doesn’t mean he can’t be nice to him. “What’s up?”

“I heard Tango died,” Joel says, eyes sparking with interest. “Do you know what happened?”

“No, I don’t. I just saw it in chat.”

“I think you’re lying.”

Impulse blinks. “What?”

Joel grins as he senses he’s caught Impulse off guard. “I said I think you’re lying. I think you’re manipulating everyone into believing you’re their friend when in actuality, you don’t care about any of them. And I think you killed Tango when he confronted you about it. Am I wrong?”

Impulse stares at him, unable to say anything in his defence.

In the ensuing pause, Joel takes a sudden step towards Impulse, who backs up a few steps, his hand automatically flying to the hilt of his sword. But he pauses. He has to be extremely careful here; Bdubs and Cleo may be watching him. If they see him put a single foot wrong here, it’s over. He has to let Joel make the first move.

“Would you kill me?” says Joel challengingly. “Would you kill me as callously as you killed Tango?”

Impulse carefully turns his back to the crastle and narrows his eyes. “Come and find out. Or would you rather die stupidly and pointlessly because you forgot about FIRE DAMAGE?”

That does it. Impulse knew exactly how to rile Joel up and it works. Eyes flashing red, Joel growls and lashes out with his fist.

Impulse allows himself to be hit in the chin, narrowly avoiding biting his tongue. Joel’s second blow, this time to the stomach, winds him and causes him to drop to his knees, vulnerable. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Joel drawing his sword. This is it; this is the moment. Either his position on the server will elevate… or he will simply die.

He holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

An arrow flies out of nowhere and buries itself in Joel’s chest, causing him to stagger back a step. A split second later, a second arrow hits Joel in the neck, and that’s all it takes.

SmallishBeans was shot by BdoubleO100

Impulse stares at the ground where Joel had landed, a second before he died. He can’t believe his plan worked so well.

“Impulse, are you okay?” Bdubs appears at Impulse’s side, discarding his crossbow. “What happened?”

“He… He was gonna kill me,” Impulse chokes out. This isn’t entirely an act; Joel’s unexpected hit to his stomach has completely snatched the wind from his sails.

“Why? Why did he wanna kill you?”

“Did he really need a reason?” Cleo says. “He was red and Impulse is green. Nuff said.”

“Wh-Whatever it was, you guys saved my life.” Impulse gives them a smile. “Thanks. If Etho or anyone else asks what happened, you guys spotted me getting attacked by Joel on my way back from checking on my villagers. Okay?”

“Ooh, good story,” Bdubs says approvingly. “But are you sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Thanks to you guys. I should probably head home, though.”

Bdubs pats him on the shoulder. “Yeah, go get some rest. Thanks again for… um… coming past and not visiting.”

Impulse nods, knowing exactly what Bdubs means. “No worries.”

…

“Joel just attacked you?” Etho frowns. “Why would he do that?”

“He doesn’t need a reason,” responds Impulse, recalling what Cleo said earlier. “He was red. I guess he just saw an easy target and couldn’t resist.”

“So he attacked you on your way back from the villagers, huh. And you’re okay, right? You’re not hurt.”

“No, I’m fine,” says Impulse. “A little shaken and tired from everything that’s happened, though.”

“Oh yeah, you should get some sleep.” Etho smiles at his friend. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Etho.”

As Impulse gets into bed in his room, he can’t help a small smile. He took a big risk today but it has really paid off. Getting rid of two red lifers in one day is enough of an accomplishment in of itself, but doing it without arousing suspicion on himself AND managing to turn Etho and Bdubs further against each other? That’s something he can be proud of.

All he needs to do now is make sure he’s in the right place at the right time for Etho’s confrontation with Bdubs tomorrow and perhaps he can be there for another red life death. Bdubs may be one of his strongest allies but if Impulse sees a chance to get another player out of the game, well…

He’s going to take it.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #impulsesv #etho #ethoslab #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #zombiecleo #smallishbeans #tangotek #vaunna’s requests

104 notes · View notes

shofics · 4 years ago

Text

So tumblr ate the ask (thanks! I hate it!) but @knifemartin sent the prompt 13. pirate au but make it... sky pirates with Earhart, Zolf, Sasha, and Wilde! This got frighteningly long so I had to put it under a cut, I hope you enjoy my ramblings. <3 They’re going to kill a dragon!!

I think I genuinely might clean this up and make it into a proper fic. Watch this space.

Zolf Smith is a miner. Zolf Smith dreams of the sky. Zolf Smith kills his brother. Zolf Smith takes flight.

The Meritocracy doesn't have air forces- don’t really need ‘em when you’re a huge fuck-off dragon who can fly- but they’re worried about the increased presence the separatists are having in the skies above their lands, so they’re building one. Zolf leaps upon it like a life raft.

When the ship goes down, there are two reasons he doesn’t die; his past, and his god.

The Reliant answers the emergency call, and that surprises Zolf- a known separatist vessel, making an attempt to save the crew of a ship in the Meritocratic Air Force- but a lot of things surprise him about Captain Earhart. It’s not the Reliant’s fault that he is the only survivor. It is due to the Reliant that there is an only survivor at all.

His family were Harlequins. Captain Earhart recognises him, visits him in the sick bay as her medics do their best to save his legs, asks after his father, asks after his brother. Gives an understanding nod when he refuses to speak about them. Offers him a job, because he desperately needs one.

It’s a lot all at once, and they can’t save his legs, but he finds he doesn’t need them. Dwarves don’t have the build that most of the Hermes lot have, but he’s never let not fitting in stop him. The feeling of the wind in the rigging is like wings on ankles he doesn’t have anymore. He’s freer than he’s been his entire life.

When he is thirteen years old, Brock Rackett successfully makes it out of Other London and out of the clutches of the Rackett clan by chopping off his ring finger and escaping on the first air vessel that will take him. At least, this is what Sasha believes. She’s sad he left without her, but she knows well that when an opportunity comes, you take it. She hopes he made it out safe.

Nine years later, at twenty-two, Sasha’s opportunity finally comes. She heads for the aeroport. Maybe she’ll be able to find him.

Barrett’s men are following her, she can feel them on her tail all through the crowd like a bad smell; she needs a cover, needs somewhere to hide. There’s a drunk in the corner of the bar, some once-foppish-looking dandy, and Sasha decides to make him her cover.

She slides into the seat next to him and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible, but the drunkard starts and leaps to his feet, swaying. “Keep your trousers on,” she hisses, jumping up to pull him back down in front of her- he’s tall enough, he should provide good cover.

The man staggers out of her grip and produces a dagger from nowhere. He tries to fend her off with it- poorly- and then his eyes roll up and he collapses. Sasha just barely manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

Wilde knows the Meritocracy is crumbling. He can feel it in the air; something big is coming, something very bad, and he really doesn’t want to be here when it finally arrives.

Though maybe the sense of impending doom he’s getting is just from lack of sleep. But he’s sure that’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine.

So he puts his bardic talents and his espionage training to work, following the trail of the odd orders and the disappearing agents, and realises quickly that if he stays, he’ll probably end up disappearing as well- or worse, become one of the people giving the odd, conflicting orders. He doesn’t know what that’s about. He doesn’t want to find out.

Wilde fakes his own death in the hopes it will throw off the scent, and decides, like so many others seeking the separatists, to head for the Americas.

In a bar at the aeroport he is accosted by a mugger, and he knew he was being conspicuous, but with everything blurring and the ringing in his ears he’s in no shape to properly defend himself. Instead of killing him, though, the dark figure hauls him up and runs.

He’s not lucid enough to take in the scene of the room she drags him into, and so he doesn’t resist as someone snaps something cold around his wrist, and he at long last sinks into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Earhart knew the look of people like Zolf Smith- lost, angry, needing. She’s seen plenty of it, in her years as an airship captain, because there are only a few reasons why people set out for the skies. And so she took him on, and he proved a fantastic first mate, knew his stuff inside and out and indulged her more reckless tendencies.

Plus, he’d been fleeing the Meritocracy. That automatically put him in Earhart’s good books.

Famous (and infamous) Harlequin airship captain Amelia Earhart was, by that point, becoming famous and infamous enough to become a thorn in the Meritocrats’ sides. They decided to target her. The fact that they tried to take down the Reliant was not her fault. The fact that she turned the whole ship around to attack back, causing a wreck that killed almost all of her crew and blew the Reliant into unsalvageable bits… that was.

The only reason she hasn’t drunk herself to death by this point is her ‘fantastic’ first mate (she’s regretting that now, in an angry way), who for some unknowable reason is unwilling to let the guilt swallow her whole.

Zolf Smith was an airman. Zolf Smith dreams of gods and wings and roads not taken. Zolf Smith is given a choice. Zolf Smith chooses no.

Zolf Smith loses his magic.

Earhart is trying to die, and he’s doing his best without access to his healing magic, but it won’t work forever, not when she’s this determined to let herself waste into nothing. He’s not good at talking, and that’s what she really needs- someone to talk to. Someone to listen. But he’s got no legs, and he’s got no magic, and he’s got almost no hope left, and nowhere to go.

They take refuge in a seedy bar in the closest aeroport and report the crash; two survivors, him and Earhart. They’ve been there a month and a half when the door to their room bursts open and a terrified kid with dark shaggy hair and an enormous jacket practically falls through the doorway, lugging an unconscious man in a blue and green waistcoat.

For a split second they all just stare at each other- everyone except for the unconscious man, of course, being as he is unconscious (and bleeding, from the nose and from the ears, and Zolf may not have magical healing but he has medical training and he knows that’s bad)- and then the kid drops her charge like a sack of potatoes, slams the door closed, and dives under the bed.

“Are you in trouble?” is all Zolf asks, and the kid nods, petrified and utterly silent. “Fine. Stay there.”

The unconscious man begins to shake and cry out as Zolf manhandles him into his bed, as though having a nightmare. He wakes with a scream, eyes wide and terrified. Someone bangs on the door. “Do you mind?” Zolf yells. “Little busy in here!”

The door bursts open a second time- those poor hinges- and two men of the kind who aren’t holding knives until you look at them from the right angle, and then they definitely are, and they’re pointed right at you, appear in the doorway. They take in the sickroom and the man with the two prosthetic legs, look nonplussed for a second, and then one nudges the other and tells him to “get a move on, she’s in here somewhere,” and they disappear down the hall.

Zolf pulls the door shut behind them and goes back over to the man in the waistcoat. It takes a bit of figuring out, but eventually, in desperation- the man is obviously dying- Zolf fishes out the anti-magical handcuffs issued to him as soldier and medic in the Meritocratic Air Forces, and clips one around his wrist. He goes limp.

He turns around to find the dark haired kid staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. “Were they lookin’ for you?” he asks, and her eyes narrow.

“Why do you want to know?” she asks defensively- as though they could be looking for anyone else. The kid has ‘runaway’ written all over her.

“‘Cause I’m tryin’ to save your life,” Zolf snaps, and that seems to shock her, “so if you could work with me here, that’d be great, I’ve got enough on my plate tryin’ to save her life-” jerks a thumb to Earhart- “and apparently this one’s as well-” to the now asleep man taking up his bed. “Who are you? Who’s he?”

“I dunno,” says the kid, “he just kind of fell over.”

Sasha does not make the decision to trust him then. She doesn’t even tell him her name. She makes the decision to trust him when he tells her, a day later, as they sit against the wall and watch the man in the waistcoat mumble in his sleep, that he used to work on an airship.

“I’m Sasha,” she says. “Can I come with you?”

The white-haired dwarf named Zolf Smith- he looks too young to have white hair, but Sasha knows not to judge from appearances- grimaces. “I mean,” he says. “Dunno why you’d want to.”

“I want to see the sky,” says Sasha, who has spent her entire life underground. Zolf looks at her and seems to see something in her that pains him.

“I dunno where I’m goin’,” he warns her mournfully, looking back at Earhart, who is also sleeping. “But you can come with if you want. ‘S your choice.”

He doesn’t ask Sasha’s surname. She decides to trust him.

The name of the man in the bed next to her is Oscar Wilde, and Earhart starts frantically reaching for a gun, any gun, forgetting in her automatic fury that Zolf had taken them all off her weeks ago. A Meritocratic agent-

“Ex-agent,” says Wilde politely. “Please don’t shoot me, Captain, I’ve almost died once this week and I’m not really eager to repeat the experience.”

Earhart feels more lucid than she has in ages as she listens to him describe the strange series of events that brought him there, how sure he is that something is brewing within the Meritocracy’s upper ranks, the disaster that is coming. She can feel Zolf’s eyes on her as all her grief and guilt and despair and boiling anger calcify inside of her.

Wilde is like her, like Zolf, like Sasha- lost, angry, needing.

Wilde has information she can use.

“Mr. Wilde,” Earhart says, her voice hoarse with disuse but filled with more fire than she’s felt since the crash, “you are going to help me kill a dragon.”

She didn’t like him at first- he talked down to her, and his posh affectations grated on principle- but Sasha has to admit that Wilde is smart. She stares in disbelieving wonder as he produces a bag of holding full to the brim with more gold pieces than she’s ever seen in her life. His Meritocratic funding, he tells the spellbound group, because he can spellbind even without his magic. He liquified as many assets as he felt he could get away with before leaving.

“Pick a ship,” he says, “any ship. We can buy it. No need to steal.”

“We’ll need elementals,” Earhart says. “At least two.”

Wilde turns to Zolf. “You’re a cleric, aren’t you?” he says. “You can summon elementals.”

“Not anymore,” Zolf bites.

“Why?”

Zolf makes a face. “I don’t- when- okay.” He sighs. “Look-” and casts Spark into the fireplace. He jumps back in shock.

“I… don’t see the problem?” Wilde says after a good minute of silence, looking from the roaring flames back to Zolf. Sasha gets up and goes to dry her hair by the fire; the weather around the ports has been awful lately. Zolf stares into the flames in surprise.

Zolf Smith was a cleric. Zolf Smith dreams of a new ship. Zolf Smith finds a team, full of people who need healing, the kind he can now provide. Zolf Smith has hope.

#my post #answered #prompt fill #my writing #knifemartin #rqg #rqg fic #rusty quill gaming #rqgaming #sasha rackett #zolf smith #rqg wilde #wilde rqg #rqg earhart #earhart rqg

61 notes · View notes