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plant-acts · 1 year ago

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Oh Look, The Brothers are Bonding

A Linked Universe Fic written for @/exhaustedvet during a LoZ AU Gift Exchange!

(2,547 Words)

Summary:

Legend was not ok. He was in an unfamiliar Hyrule with Wind of all people. “Where is everyone else?”

The boy shrugged, “Dunno. I jumped through the portal after you.”

Oh no.

OR: Legend and Wind are not close. Let's see how long that lasts when secrets are revealed.

(Ao3)

Link, or Legend now as of two months ago, didn’t want to be here.

He wanted to be in his cluttered home with his annoying roommate, or at least off on an adventure alone, not stuck with eight other people who all seemed dead set on him being a part of the group.

Every night by the fire, they wanted to sit around and tell stories with him or make small talk while heading to their next destination, or even coddle him after a battle. It was exhausting.

Oh, also they all had the hero’s spirit or something, but that’s not important.

It was midday in Twilight’s Hyrule. The sun beamed through the trees overhead, basking everything in a warm glow. They were walking for what felt like hours and the sailor was falling behind. No matter how many times Warriors offered to carry him, he would refuse and say something that would have even the toughest men blushing.

It was honestly starting to annoy Legend. Yeah, a lot of them had been young when they pulled the sword so no one could judge, but that didn’t mean the kid had to drive them all up the wall with nonstop talking and being a genuine thorn in the side. All his stubborn attitude did was slow them down.

“Are you sure you don’t need to be carried?” Warriors asked for at least the hundredth time. “I really don’t mind giving you a lift until we reach the next village.”

Legend swore that Wind literally growled, “Yes! I’m sure and if you ask me again, I will shove my sword right up your-!”

“Wind. Watch your language.” Time called from the front of the group, not taking his eyes off the road. Twilight and Wild snickered at his sides.

It was a little funny to look back and see the kid’s face red from embarrassment—Karma at its finest. Whenever the goddess gave that specific child the hero’s spirit, she must have been drunk.

Speaking of the mentioned goddess, she must have not liked him thinking that because one second, he was chuckling to himself at Wind getting scolded, and the next he heard yelling from around him. He turned just in time to step through a portal that appeared in front of him.

“Ah, crap.” Was all he had time to mumble before falling through space and time. It was quite an uncomfortable feeling; like being shaken around in a blender, poured through a strainer, and then put back together. A solid 10/10 would not recommend experience.

Landing ungracefully on his stomach, the air was knocked from his lungs. He was seriously going to fight the goddess one day. Maybe that should be his next adventure.

After taking a moment to gather himself, Legend sat up and took in his surroundings. Around him was a patch of tall grass swaying softly in the breeze, with mountains and fields as far as the eye could see. The sun was now high in the sky, with small clouds dotting the view. It was beautiful, almost calming.

Taking a breath, he basked in the atmosphere. Maybe this was the break he deserved.

The moment was short-lived. He nearly jumped out of his skin when screaming started above him. Looking up, Legend spotted a familiar shade of blue growing closer. He didn’t have time to move before it landed on his chest.

Just his luck.

“Ow, oh! Sorry!” Wind jumped up, dusting himself off and reaching out a hand to help Legend stand. “You ok!?”

No. Legend was not ok. He was in an unfamiliar Hyrule with Wind of all people. “Where is everyone else?” He ignored the sailor’s help, getting to his feet on his own.

The boy shrugged, “Dunno. I jumped through the portal after you.”

He froze. This stupid kid. “You-!?” Of course, he would jump right through the portal! Wasn’t he falling behind? How the hell did he even get there!?

Wind didn’t seem to share the same worry, because all he did was tilt his head to the side confused. “Me?”

This was going to be a long few hours. Legend ran a hand through his hair, trying not to scream. “We need to find the others.” He did not want to be stuck with an actual child longer than needed. “Come on.” Looking around, he chose a random direction and started walking.

The sailor fell into step with him, adjusting the straps of his bag. Luckily, those stayed with them through the switch. “Where do you think we are?” He asked.

Now it was Legends turn to shrug. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

The sun lowered, causing the sky to glow a burned orange. Once again, Wind lagged behind. The kid really needed to work on his cardio.

“Keep up.” Legend called over his shoulder. “I would like to find the others before we die of old age.”

The sailor’s shoulders slumped. “I’m trying!”

Looking closer, he felt a little bad for the younger boy, whose boots dragged against the dirt. Maybe it was a good idea to stop. Legend himself was getting tired, and he didn’t want to walk through the night. Looking around, he spotted a small clearing through the trees. He took Wind’s arm and marched that way, ignoring the way the boy complained about being manhandled.

The spot seemed safe. Off the path so nothing could sneak up on them, yet close enough that they could make their way back in the morning. “We’ll set up here.” He instructed, dropping his bag to the ground.

The other was quick to follow, flopping down next to their things. “Oh, thank the gods! I thought my legs were going to fall off!”

He rolled his eyes with a small smile. Kids can be so dramatic.

Now it was time to go through the familiar routine of setting up camp. “Stay here.” He spoke, securing his sword to his back. “I’m going to get firewood.”

Wind did not listen, when did he ever? Instead, he hopped up and ran to Legend’s side, practically bouncing on his toes. “I’ll help!”

“No.” He quickly shot down. The last thing either of them needed was him getting hurt. Warriors would actually have his head on a stick. Legend would never admit it, but the guy could scare him sometimes; when he wasn’t fretting about his hair, at least. “Just…look through our bags for food or something.”

Once again, Wind did not seem to like that answer as he rolled his eyes and sat back down with crossed arms. “Fine. Whatever.”

He watched him for a second, slightly guilty. He didn’t want to be like some of the others and treat him differently because of his age. It was hypocritical to do so when almost all of them had faced danger quite young. He couldn’t help it, though. It was one thing to be a kid with the hero’s spirit; it was another to watch a kid, someone so young, fight every day, knowing how the story ends. Legend at one point used to be as carefree as him after all.

He sighed, leaving the clearing without a word. This was way out of his comfort zone.

The forest was calm as Legend picked through it. He didn’t need to go far for wood, but took extra time to organize his thoughts. The sun was low, low enough that the moon showed itself in the sky. He would need to head back soon and make sure Wind didn’t burn down their small camp. The thought made him chuckle some, but also kind of scared him. The youngest of their group could be a wrecking ball if he wanted to.

An ear-piercing scream echoed through the woods.

Legend dropped the wood he was holding, bolting back toward the clearing. His boots pounded on the ground as blood drained from his face.

“WIND!” He called, ignoring how the trees scraped against his legs as he plowed through the foliage. “YOU OKAY, KID?!”

The lack of response was deafening.

Breaking through the brush, saw two bags and nothing else. It was eerily still. Where the hell did he go? Legend’s heartbeat frantically in his chest, his mind swirling with worst-case scenarios. No way he lost the kid!?

Rustling across the tree line caught his attention. Slowly, he reached for his sword, unsheathing it. The cold metal against his hand was comforting; a reliable weight.

All was still for a moment. A standoff between Legend, and whatever hid amongst the leaves.

A mop of unruly blond hair littered with twigs burst out of the brush, grasping a sword and eyes wide. Upon noticing Legend, Wind grinned sheepishly. “Heyyy, Leg’.” Blood dotted his bright blue tunic. “Your back!”

Legend was at a loss for words. One order, he gave the kid one simple task! To stay put and organize food, but no! He couldn’t even do that! He stalked forward silently, eyes ablaze.

Wind took a step back. “I can explain!” He hastily shouted. “You see, I looked through our bags and thought we could use a little more food, and since you were gone, I figured I could get it myself!” Laughing awkwardly, he picked a branch out of his hair. “I found some berries that looked good, but then get this! A lizalfo jumped out at me! Not one of the black-blooded ones, a normal one! I handled it though, because I’m just that cool!”

Legend spoke slowly. “You handled it?” He towered over the younger boy, whose smile faltered. “Wind, you have blood on you!” Grabbing the boy’s arm, he yanked it over, showing a long cut going down his forearm.

Wind yanked his arm back, ducking between the taller boy’s legs to get away. “Most of it isn’t mine!” His face was red from anger, or maybe embarrassment.

Legend didn’t let him get far. Turning on a heel, he grabbed his shoulder, forcing them to face each other. “I told you to stay here! Not run off and get hurt!”

“I just wanted to help, and I can take care of myself!”

“Can you use your head for once!?” He yelled, practically shaking the sailor. “You are going to get yourself killed one day by not listening to simple instructions! The goddess must have made a mistake choosing you because there is no way in Hyrule that you should have lasted this long with dirt for brains!” He didn’t mean it. Wind was a talented warrior, one of the best. He was just…worried. Anything could have happened.

The younger boy didn’t look up. Instead, he kept his gaze on the tree line, body stiff.

Maybe Legend went a little too far. He was only a kid, after all. Slowly, he lowered them both to the forest floor. The crickets chirping, and the leaves moving were the only sounds.

“Why did you follow me?” Legend asked. The thought had been itching at the back of his head since they landed.

Wind looked away. “You have been leading us through this Hyrule. Of course I would follow.” He responded, dodging the question.

Legend narrowed his eyes, watching as the younger boy fiddled with the ends of his tunic. A breeze blew through, causing them both to shiver.

“You know what I mean.”

He didn’t respond for a long moment, just staring off into the distance with foggy blue eyes. Eventually, his mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to form a response. “Can I tell you something?” His voice sounded small, almost like the child Wind was supposed to be. He met Legend’s gaze.

It scared the veteran to see the youngest of their group, the one who shone like a light in all the dark times, be uncharacteristically quiet.

He nodded anyway.

Wind took a breath, preparing himself. “I- well, first off, you can’t tell anyone, or get mad.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he looked almost scared. Like he expected Legend to jump up and chase him away. “I don’t have the hero’s spirit.”

That was the last thing Legend expected to hear. A chill went down his spine.

The sailor continued. “I’m sorry.” Fresh tears filled his eyes. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to impress you! You have gone on so many adventures, and have all kinds of magic things, and I wanted you to like me! I want everyone to like me, and if they knew I wasn’t chosen, that I wasn’t a genuine hero, then they wouldn’t!” He practically yelled, franticly running his fingers through his hair. “That’s why I pushed past everyone and jumped in after you! I wanted to spend time with the hero of legend.”

Legend didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t some amazing hero, just a guy who went on a few too many adventures. No one a kid should look up to, or more importantly, compare himself to.

Slowly, he moved his arms, wrapping them around Wind in an awkward hug. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Wind looked up, sniffling. “What?”

“You defeated Gannon, right?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah. Stabbed‘em straight through the head.”

Slightly graphic, but that’s fine. “Then you are just as much of a hero as the rest of us.” Gently, Legend rubbed his back. “Maybe even more so. You did it without any divine intervention.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “And uh, I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Short, sweet, and to the point. Legend had never been the best at apologies.

He felt Wind’s arms wrap around his mid-section tightly. “It’s ok. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have run off when you told me not to.”

And that was enough mushy feelings for the next month. He ruffled the boy’s hair, pulling them both up. “Alright. Why don’t we fix up that arm and actually get some food before dark?”

“Can I come with you this time?”

“Of course.”

That night, they sat side by side as the fire roared and stars danced overhead. Wind lay against Legend’s side with a blanket wrapped around both of them.

“And that is how I met my roommate, who is also the most annoying person in the world.” Legend finished his story. How he was pulled into the classic bonding around the fire was a mystery. But unfortunately, he didn’t hate it.

Oh god, he was going soft, wasn’t he?

There was no response from Wind, which was slightly concerning. The kid had been a chatterbox since they wrapped up his arm and ate. A small snore had him looking down.

The boy was fast asleep, tucked under his arm and holding onto the front of his tunic. Legend smiled softly. It was slightly adorable. Never in a million years would he admit it out loud, but maybe, just maybe, he had begun seeing the youngest Link as a little brother.

How annoying.

Making sure the blanket was secure around them, he settled in for a long night of being a Hylian pillow. Would he wake up in the morning sore? Yeah. Would he complain about it to Wind until they found the others? Also, yeah. Did he regret it? Not a bit.

#linked universe #lu wind #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #plants lu fics #Plants fics

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hypersomniat · 1 month ago

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wc: 8.5k

cw: allusions to medical malpractice

You rub your eyes as the 6th Hunger Games roll on the screen. Your notes lay scrawled in front of you, and you’re not sure how much more of this you can watch. It’s a very disquieting feeling to start each tape and know that out of all the faces on screen, only one was still alive.

But you have started to get a solid strategy going, or, at least the bare bones of one, given the physique of your tribute. He is from the lumber district, and when you shoved him down, you definitely felt solid muscle. So he could swing an ax. He is likely pretty fast too. You can work with this.

You could almost feel the Plinth Prize in your hands, and how good it would feel to rub it in all of their faces. Snow of all people doesn’t need it for anything other than gloating rights. That’s what he wants you to think anyway, but you know better. If he manages to be amicable when he loses, you might even give him the money. You don’t really need it either. You just want to rub it in a few people’s faces that you’re better than them.

Cruel, but such was life.

The Academy isn’t letting anyone speak to the tributes, or letting anyone visit at all. You also haven’t seen Clemmie in two days, and no one seems to know where she is at. When you had asked Snow this morning, he gave you a tight lipped smile and said she “had a nasty case of flu.” It isn’t like you believe him, but there isn’t much you can do about it.

Treech is on your mind too, the last you saw of him burned behind your eyelids as he was rounded up with his hands atop his head.

Class is being let out early to watch Arachne’s funeral procession. Apparently, Snow is singing at it. Clemmie is still nowhere to be seen. There’s a rumor that she fell in love with her tribute and tried to run away with him, and is now being held in jail deep under the city. It’s laughable, because you know Clemmie, and you know exactly who and what she’s in love with. Snow and success.

It’s funny, because she can do so much better than him, but it’s not your business. Maybe she just likes the Snow's reputation. Clemensia Snow has a nice ring to it.

Whoever started it though is up in the air. You won’t be surprised if Festus is the starting point.

You catch up with Lyssie after class, unwilling to have someone else find you. You don’t want to talk to Festus and console him about Arachne. You and Lyssie talk aimlessly as you walk to where the procession will be.

“Jessup’s bite looks worse,” her face scrunches. “It’s awful that they won’t look at it.”

“I can give you some cream to sneak him,” you surprise yourself by offering. Lyssie smiles gratefully.

“Really?”

“After Arachne’s funeral, I can get it if you want to come back with me?” You’re in too deep to just back out, and you owe Lyssie a few favors.

“I’m indebted,” she nudges your shoulder with her own. You can’t help but smile back. Lyssie in your debt wouldn’t be too bad. You find seats in the stands, and you can see Snow if you squint.

“I heard Snow is singing for this,” you tilt your head towards Snow. Lyssie leans forward, searching for him. “Do you think they offered him something?”

“I didn’t know he could sing,” Lyssie finally spots him. “Let alone such close friends with Arachne.”

“I didn’t think so either,” you shake your head. “It’s starting,” you point to the screen that flickers on. You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about Arachne’s death. You’re not going to miss her, but…

You hope they aren’t treating the tributes too much worse than they already have been.

Snow’s voice cuts through the silence as he begins to sing the national anthem. You’re a little annoyed that he isn’t even half bad. As the song reaches its conclusion, your eye catches on a crane that rolls down the street, projected on the screens as it begins to come into focus. There’s something dangling from it, but you can’t tell what.

Lyssie gasps, hand over her mouth. “They didn’t,” she exhales, obviously puzzling out what the hanging thing is before you do. As if the universe can sense your confusion, the big screen zooms in, and your stomach drops.

It’s the district ten girl, suspended on hooks as her body is paraded through the street. Gasps surround you, but they do not drown out the jeering at the sight of Arachne’s killer. She’s white as a sheet, all of her blood outside of her body. Literally. It’s revolting.

You wish you could kill Arachne again for making you sit through this procession.

What seems like hours is full of people crying and speaking about Arachne’s achievements, how wonderful of a person she was. It even made kind hearted Lyssie press a hand to her face to conceal the smile at the sheer absurdity it is to include so many flattering words in the same sentence and line of thought as Arachne.

When the funeral ends and your hands have been touched by dozens giving their condolences and apologies for your loss, you grab Lyssie’s wrist and manage to sneak out the back, away from the camera’s. She wipes her eyes with her free hand, and you don’t mention it.

You let her lay on your floor as you snap open your med kit, shifting through the contents for an anti-bacterial cream and a small tin. “It was unnecessary,” Lyssie says as you manage to find a small container to put the cream in. You hum in agreement. “I mean, it was garish.”

“Excessive,” you agree, twisting open the metal tin. You’re sure Arachne’s spirit is looking up and is positively thrilled she has become the temporary face of Panem. A martyr for fear mongering about the districts.

District may be…uncouth, but they still were people that the government was supposed to protect at the end of the day.

“Have you heard from Clemmie?” Lyssie switches the topic suddenly. You glance behind yourself as you squeeze the large tube of cream into the pocket tin. Lyssie stares up at the ceiling with a frown on her face. “No one in class seems to have heard from her. It’s not like her to miss so much.”

“Coryo said she has the flu,” you shut the lid onto the tin. You wipe the edge with a handkerchief. Does Treech need any sort of medical attention? If he does, he’s likely not getting it. What a nice thought.

“That’s what he told me too, but he sounded like he was lying,” Lyssie sighs. “I’m worried about her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, whatever it is she’s gotten herself into,” you nestle the anti-bacterial cream tube back into the kit. Lyssie isn’t convinced, and neither are you. You both seem to know this, because she somehow slumps further against the floor. You crouch down, metal tin in your hand. One debt to Lyssie has been knocked out.

“You’re the best,” Lyssie pushes herself up off your floor, hair sticking up at an odd angle. She takes the cream with a tired smile, and drops it into her pocket. “Have you finished the strategy report yet?”

Right. You’re supposed to be working on that.

“If one existing page counts, then yes,” you say as Lyssie begins to stand up.

“That makes me feel better, I don’t even want to touch a pen to finish it.”

You walk Lyssie to the door in silence, a strange mood befalling the both of you. “Good luck on your essay,” you tell her as she laces her shoes up. She pats the tin in her pocket.

“You too, y/n.”

The front door thuds shut, leaving you feeling something you can’t quite describe. It wraps your lungs all the same. You think of Treech again, and something else snags inside your gut. You ignore it as well as you can, digging in your bag for the report you were discussing with Clemmie.

You lay your notes and the beginnings of the actual essay itself out on your desk, and quickly come to the conclusion that this is futile. You drop your pen on the desk, reaching across your homework to drag your phone towards you. It’s not one of the newer models where it also projects a picture to you, that one in your living room, but it’s the one the Lovecotes have in their house.

Clemmie has been trying to persuade her father to upgrade it, but to no avail. You don’t need to look as you enter her household number, cradling the receiver against your ear. The line rings one, twice, and then a third time before it is picked up by an out of breath sounding woman.

“Lovecotte’s head maid speaking,” she says. You resist the urge to sigh.

“Hello, this is y/n, from the Academy, I’m a friend of Clemensia’s. I was wondering if Mr. Dovecote is available?” There’s a pause on the other end, and you twirl the wires around your fingers.

“Please hold,” the maid says, and before you can say anything, the line beeps. You sigh this time, and stare at your desk. The silver hairbrush Treech used sits within your line of sight. You frown.

The line beeps again, preventing you from forming a coherent thought about it. “Dovecote speaking,” Clemmie’s father says. He sounds slightly strained.

“Mr. Dovecote,” you twirl the wire again.

“Y/n,” he says. The line crackles. You almost didn’t expect him to remember your voice, let alone your name.

“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything,” you blanket your statement with a formality. You would like to keep him viewing you in a bare minimum neutral lighting. You can’t care less what he was doing.

“I had a moment,” he answers, and you picture him rubbing his mustache. It’s a habit of his when he talks about himself. Clemmie used to do the same thing in elementary.

“Forgive me for being blunt then, but what has Clemmie tied up? No one has seen her in days.” You spin the wire off your finger, it’s getting too tight. You miss the pressure almost immediately. The line is silent for a moment, and you wonder if Mr. Dovecote hung up.

“She is in the hospital, a ‘flu,’ they say.” He sounds skeptical. “We do not know, the doctors won’t tell us anything else or let us see her, and Coriolanus says that she fainted.” That is far more information than you’ve gotten.

Okay, so clearly Clemmie doesn’t have the flu. With the entire time you have known her, she has actually gotten sick like four times. Three of which were during the Dark Days. She was nothing if not vigilant about washing her hands.

“I see,” you say, because there is nothing else to say. No one knows what has happened to Clemmie except Snow, and he isn’t talking. “I’ll keep an ear out for you. Sorry to keep you, sir,” you twirl the wire again. You have no idea how you’ll keep an ear out, but it sounded like the right thing to say.

“Thank you,” Mr. Dovecote says, and after a few more useless pleasantries, he hangs up. You put the phone back in its receiver, and pick your pen back up. This report isn’t going to write itself, and you had the beginnings of a real strategy in the arena spinning in your mind. If you can’t see Treech, you might as well continue to do your part as his mentor and figure out what to do for him.

You try to visit the zoo the next day, but are turned away. You’re turned away the next day too, and frustration boils in your gut. You feel useless, and worried. You end up finishing your strategy report, very little else to do. It felt heavy in your bag until you finally turned it in yesterday. You poke at your potatoes.

Districts one, two, and four have an emerging pattern of producing strong tributes. Districts seven, ten, and eleven have tributes who can usually stay alive for longer than ten minutes. The other districts have outliers, and are not consistently strong or knowledgeable in weaponry. District twelve ranks low, unless the tribute is eighteen and has worked the mines. That has only happened once for district twelve, and the tribute ended up dying in the end anyway.

Treech was right, frankly, because what good does sending in food or water if the games are usually over in mere hours? I know you’re on the edge of death and all fighting for your life, would you like some water so another kid can bash your skull in?

Your boy hardly left your mind, and inexplicably, him messing with you during the first interview.

‘Married?’

‘Are you asking?’

Something about the way he said it. Under different circumstances, you don’t doubt you’d play with him. Not knowing how he is bothers you.

Clemmie is still missing too, and the rumor mill is anything but inactive. Your current favorite is that she killed someone and got sent off to district four. There is also one where Snow killed her, and that’s why he seems to be the only one who knows anything about what happened. You don’t doubt it.

A tray drops down across from you, and you flinch, neck jerking up to glare at the offender. Festus looks unapologetic as he sits down. “Highbottom is saying we’re touring the arena with our tributes today,” he drops his bag to the ground, making it clear he’s staying. Your fork hovers over your plate. You’re seeing Treech today.

“I was going over strategy last night,” Festus keeps talking, “and I know we’re adding betting, so people watch and the stakes feel higher, but what’s the point?” He spears his steak. “There’s no place to hide in the arena, and the betting system does nothing. Dogfights, at least, you can win your money back.”

You hum along. “Dr. Gaul won’t like to hear that.”

“It’s beyond me why she doesn’t see the flaws in her games this year,” Festus rubs the bridge of his nose. “Anyway,” he squints at you. “Do you think they’ve been feeding the tributes?”

“I’m not sure,” you shake your head. “We’ll find out later when our tickets to the Plinth Prize are all skin and bones.”

“Funny,” Festus says around a mouthful of food. “Really funny. I, for one, think that the eleven girl is going to be dead before the games, if she’s not already.” You let Festus talk as you eat, and the time passes quickly. He does circle to Arachne at one point, but you’re feeling magnanimous and decide to not shush him. You wrap up your brownie when he’s not looking.

He ends up being right as well, Dean Highbottom announcing after lunch that they will be paying their tributes a visit and showing them the arena. Your skin buzzes at the prospect of seeing Treech, and you can’t place your finger on why.

It’s probably just nerves. Protecting your assets and all.

That’s what you tell yourself anyway, as you’re loaded up into vans. Lyssie sits next to you in relative silence, thanking you again for the medicine. She taps her finger on the lid, and you hear the slight metallic clink of it through her pocket.

Ushered into the same room your first round of interviews with the tributes were in, you look around for Treech. He’s in the same spot he was the last time, hat tipped down again. “Fifteen minutes,” Dean Highbottom warns you all as he turns his back.

You sit down across from Treech, and the chains around his wrists are tied closer to the table than they had been. His wrists are raw and red, evidence of time in the cuffs running up his arms, and not just pulling on them.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but it’s a silly question. You knew that the moment it fell past your lips. He looks sick, frankly. Absolutely exhausted. You wonder what they did to him. Wait, why is he squinting? You lean across the table, tilting Treech’s hat back enough to look him in the eyes. It irritates you when he pulls it down, you’d rather look at him.

He flinches, but he can’t exactly go anywhere, so you manage to settle his hat back on his curls and take a good look at him. A bruise under his eye looks back at you, mottled purple and black. "Who did this?” You resist the urge to touch it. There’s more dirt on his face too.

“Peacekeepers,” he says after a moment. “I was getting too rowdy, apparently.”

That somehow annoys you more. You click your tongue in distaste, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket. You lean in again, and to his credit, Treech only grimaces as you touch him again. You rub the cloth against the dirt on his face, scrubbing his nose for good measure. Feeling self-satisfied, you pull away again. There, now he looks better. If only you could do something about his eye.

“Have they fed you?”

“After day three, guess they decided we weren’t worth much entertainment if we all died before they got it on screen. Why, have something for me? I still have room.”

You’re pretty sure that’s the longest he’s ever talked to you in one breath. It’s almost cute.

“I might,” you say. “You can have it once we get to the arena.”

“How exciting.”

“I’m sure. I want to see the arena in person before we talk about real strategy. I advise against an alliance, they can and will turn their back on you the moment the buzzer sounds.” Treech frowns, and you know he already has an alliance in mind. You’re sure you know who it is, too. “Who are you thinking?”

“Lamina.”

Of course, it’s Lamina. You’re disappointed, but not surprised.

“Can she fight?”

“She works in forestry on the weekends. I can’t just leave her.”

He could, but you don’t say that.

“Just keep an eye on your back, okay?” Treech clearly isn’t happy about it, but he nods. “This is cruel, but if you want to get out, take out the smaller ones first. If you write them off, they’ll be the one to kill you. Or they’ll wear you down so someone else can kill you.”

He stares at you, expression once again unreadable, but vaguely hostile. You consider how it would feel to win and then rub the money in Snow’s face. You like his songbird and all, but she can’t survive. Not if you want Treech to. You make a mental note to grab something for his wrists, and maybe some bruise cream.

You wonder if Treech has a staring problem, now that you think about it.

“You’ll be okay,” you tell him. “If it’s any consolation, you’re getting popular.” The words taste acidic on your tongue. You don’t really want to share him with the masses. You shake the thought from your head.

“Easy for you to say,” he sighs, finally looking away. “Do they usually have axes in there?” He does not clarify where, and he doesn’t need to. You smile at his initiative, at least a real drive to get out of the arena.

“There’s always an ax or two.” You recall the previous Hunger Games. “Swords, tridents, spears, knives.”

Treech shuts his eyes. His eyelashes brush his cheeks. You reconsider your odds again. With Lamina, his odds of survival either go up, or she’ll be one of the first to aim their blade for him. If you want him to cooperate, it looks like Lamina is staying. Maybe you can play up a duo in the interviews…

“For the interviews,” you check the clock. Two minutes. “I was thinking you can show off your proficiency with an ax with a stick or something. Ridiculous, I know, don’t make that face. Or your strength.”

“Time,” Dean Highbottom says. Chairs scrape.

“Think on it,” you tell Treech as you stand up. “I’ll see you soon.”

And see him soon you do. Lyssie sits next to you again in the vans, and she is silent. Your odds feel a little better as the doors slide open. You break away from Snow and Lyssie as you climb the steps to the arena, scanning the line of tributes for yours.

He’s towards the center front, saying something to Lamina. The chains are off their wrists. You see Coral, Festus’ tribute, eyeing Treech. You’re not sure if she wants an alliance, or if she wants to kill him.

“Enjoy the show,” an electronic woman’s voice rings out as the first of the tributes are pushed through the gates. It surprises you; they must exclude it from the recordings. You catch Treech’s expression. He seems to have caught the irony. Lamina, on the other hand, looks like she’s about to burst into tears again.

You step through the gate, the bars rolling with your movement. Treech comes through a moment later, and his wide eyes sweep across the arena. He swivels in a slow circle, stepping back as Pup approaches Lamina. There is nowhere to hide. But there is something.

“Treech,” you call him. On dazed feet, he crosses the short distance between you. “You said you work in the trees?” He nods, so you point to the mottled surface of the slightly angled wall that leads up to the stands. “If you can get up there, you’re almost golden.”

He follows your finger. He looks a bit like a trapped animal.

His lips move, and you lean closer, curious on what he could be saying. While you’re at it, you drop the brownie into his pocket, shifting your blazer so one won’t be able to see your hands. “I don’t want to die in here,” you hear, barely audible. You’re not sure if you are supposed to hear him or not.

“You won’t,” you tell him firmly.

“Treech,” Lamina says somewhere to your right. You allow them a moment, retreating to where Festus, Lyssie, and Felix are talking.

“Y/n,” Festus smiles as if he were just talking about you. “Coral is considering your lumberjack as an ally.”

You don’t like the sounds of that.

“She’s strong,” Felix crosses his arms, sounding a bit jealous. You think his tribute is the girl with tuberculosis from eleven.

“Hey lumberjack!” You hear Festus’ tribute call, and you turn around to watch the scene unfold. Festus does the same, followed by Felix. Lyssie mutters something about checking on Jessup, leaving you alone.

Treech pauses, looking at Coral. “Lamina,” he says over his shoulder. Lamina takes a step forward, and Coral narrows her eyes. Her district partner leans into her shoulder. “No, no, just you,” Coral shakes her head. “Just you.”

Your boy looks down for a moment, hesitating. He almost turns back to Lamina, but instead, he leaves her standing alone, sending one glance in your direction. He’s afraid, you realize. He can either join Coral or become one of the first she runs through in the arena. His chest rises and he opens his mouth, but closes it just as quickly, ducking his head.

Lamina gasps, and you don’t need to look at her to know she’s crying again. Treech had already told her that he wanted to stick together. Ouch.

“Success,” Festus grins. “Teamwork.” Not for the first time, you want to punch him in the face. You return his grin. Fuck this guy. You are going to be so mad if Coral decides to just kill him.

Treech, Coral, and…. you wrack your brain. Mizzen? Mizzen and the boy from ten stand together. Outside of the kid, they are going to be a formidable pack. Poor Lamina. She’s still crying, and Treech is refusing to look at her.

Your eyebrows pinch. Okay, this can still work. Treech just has to turn on them first. You’re most concerned about Coral and Mizzen though. District four climbs rigging, they can likely get up stone if they take their time. Just as you’re about to ask Festus how good of a climber Coral is, the sky caves in.

The ground rattles violently, sending you stumbling in the direction of the pack. You lose sight of Felix and Festus. You can’t see much of anything past the dust rising in the air. For a moment, you think that’s it. The ground explodes.

You hit the ground, the realization that the arena was being bombed sinking in. You feel five years old again, warplanes flying over your head seconds before your entire world exploded. The ash and dirt burn your lungs, and you fumble for your handkerchief to press to your face.

Treech. Where’s Treech?

You spot him among the rubble, coughing and pushing wooden beams off of himself. He has his shirt pulled up around his nose. You pat your pockets, half delirious and hysterical. Bomb time. You find your backup handkerchief, because who would you be if you weren’t prepared for a situation. Any situation.

“Treech!” You shout, and your throat feels as if it’s catching fire through the fabric. You’re not quite sure how you reach him so fast, but you thrust the cloth into his hands. He presses it to his mouth and nose immediately, coughing violently.

There’s shouting, and it seems as if the ground has stopped shaking. You can see Peacekeepers moving, and you realize some of the tributes are trying to escape. The pair from district one are gunned down. Treech hardly seems in a state to run off, and he won’t make it far, either. More bullets fire, and Treech pulls you to the ground. It’s a role reversal, you think as you try to squint up at the roof to make sense of what had happened. You ignore how your skin scrapes against concrete, willing the pain away.

Sunlight hits you instead.

Gloved hands pull you up, and Treech is pulled away. The jostling sends fire along your nerves, and you can feel the blood dripping down your fingers. You hope you don’t need stitches. Treech looked nice, your mind helpfully supplies. Too bad your hard work at wiping the dirt off his face went to waste. One of your classmates lays face down and unmoving in the dirt.

You stumble down the smoking steps of the arena, half dragged along by the two Peacekeepers with you. You don’t think you’ve met a single polite one. It makes you giggle a bit. A classmate is shouting, trying to pull one of the tributes out of the rubble. Mizzen? Your eyes fall on waiting ambulances, and you can hear a few more sirens approaching from deeper within the city.

You don’t see any of the tributes, but you catch sight of some of your classmates. Snow on a stretcher. Iphigenia with hair turned grey from the ash. Lyssie, eyes wide being escorted down the steps.

You’re taken to the back of one of the ambulances and sat down on the sidewalk behind it. EMTs swarm you, asking questions that you try to answer to the best of your ability. Your heart pounds and worry coats the inside of your skin to the point you can hardly feel it as they stitch your finger and begin to wrap your hands in gauze. You’re unsure where your handkerchief went.

Still in a daze, you’re cleared by the medical teams, the only thing on your mind is your boy from district seven. Is he alright? Where is he? Are the games going to continue if the arena has been destroyed? You won’t get the Plinth Prize, but it doesn’t feel too irritating to know in that moment. You hope the cloth you gave him protected his lungs. What tributes are even left? The pair from one was gunned down in front of you.

You’re not quite sure when or how you got home. Your parent's fuss over you, but you brush them off, heading straight to your room. You have no idea what happened to Festus or Lyssie, and you’re relatively certain you saw Persephone still in the collapsing arena as you were taken out of it. Snow looked worse for wear, he’s surely in the hospital by now.

You sit on the floor by your bed, trying to make sense of the bombing. The arena is left untouched for nearly the entire year, only used now for the games and then a short clean up immediately after. Who knows how long the bombs were lying in wait. They could have been put up just this morning, but by who? Rebels? Rebels in the Capitol? Unthinkable, but there aren’t a lot of other motives you can think of. Targeting the affluent children, maybe?

The phone ringing on your vanity startles you, bumping your head on the metal of your bedframe. You scramble up, cursing whoever is on the other line. The phone rattles on its stand. You frown as you pick up, knowing it is one of the few people you’ve given your personal number to on the other end.

“Hello?” The pressure of the phone in your hand is unpleasant, resting against your stitches.

“Y/n,” the person on the other end sounds relieved. Festus. Why was he calling you? You half consider just hanging up on him. “I lost sight of you and Coryo after the rebel bombing.”

“I saw Coryo,” you say. “He was on a stretcher; I think he’s been taken to the hospital.” Festus sighs. “What happened to you?”

“I got thrown across the arena. Bruised but fine. Those Peacekeepers were rough.” Festus sounds displeased, and you imagine he’s already taken the issue to his father. “Listen, my father just got off the phone with the Academy. They’re continuing the games.”

You’re still in the running for the Plinth Prize, then. And the games were still going to continue. It leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. “In the same arena?”

“Yeah, they’re currently putting cameras in the passages the bombs opened. Half of the arena collapsed. Figured you would want to know since we’re working together now.” A pause, and you can hear his smirk before he opens his mouth again. “And I’m sure you’re worried about that boy of yours.”

Because Festus’ tribute was probably going to kill him. Your finger twitches in annoyance, pulling the stitches. You almost can’t believe the games are still continuing.

“I see, thanks for letting me know.”

“Right.” There’s a shuffle on the other end. “If you hear anything about Coryo, let me know, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine,” you try to reassure him. You’re pretty sure Snow was smoking when he was loaded into the back of an ambulance, as if he was recently on fire. Festus hadn’t seen him. You don’t know why he likes that boy so much. Maybe Festus will sing at Snow’s funeral. “‘Snow lands on top’ or whatever it is he says.”

Festus laughs, but it’s a tired thing. “It’s a cold line.”

“Funny,” you shut your eyes at the pun.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Festus says. “We can talk strategy then.”

Great.

“Don’t stay up too late,” you say instead. You know his habits.

“Whatever, maybe Dr. Gaul will stop in tomorrow to tell us about a new thing she’s implementing.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you groan. Every time you have to talk to the head Gamemaker, you feel like a rat trapped in a cage with a gun to your head. Festus laughs. “Good night, Festus,” you rub your nose. You click the phone back to its stand. You should have asked if he had seen Lyssie.

If the floor is open in that arena, the games have real potential to go on for more than a day or so. Meaning, the system of sending tributes gifts will mean something. If cameras have to be put in the tunnels, they go far under the arena, and there should be places to hide down there.

You need to tell Treech.

Your hands still sting. The white gauze wrapped around them is just begging to be picked at. You never got to see the extent of the damage, just the blood through the smoke, and that isn’t any good indicator of the injury. You curse yourself, wishing you had done more for Treech. Instead, you got caught in bomb time.

The fading sunlight filters through your window, turning the floor in front of you orange. Firm determination sets in as you lift yourself up off the ground. You dig a handful of cash out of your drawer, stuffing it into your pocket. If they don’t let you in to see Treech, guards can always be bribed. You know beyond a shadow of doubt that Snow and Felix have already bribed the guards this past week.

You change out of the Academy uniform, not wanting to call attention to yourself with the red, opting for a darker color scheme. You tap your fingers against your arm as you consider what exactly to bring with you. The movement hurts, but you don’t stop.

A new handkerchief gets folded into your pocket, simple white with blue flowers embroidered at the ages. You have a shirt that matches it, hanging up in your closet somewhere. You drop a bottle of water into your canvas bag, and after a moment of hesitation, you toss in your burn cream, some gauze, bromelain cream, and disinfectant. You have to make sure he looks presentable, you tell yourself. You’re not entirely sure you believe it when you say it.

You sling the bag over your shoulder, and your hands scream in protest at the action. It’s ignorable, so you brush your knuckles against the cash in your pocket, ensuring it’s where you put it. It would be embarrassing if you arrived and left your money on the table.

“I’m going to Lyssie’s” you call out into your apartment. She will cover for you if anyone actually does go looking for you, but you doubt it will come to it. You wonder if she ever got that medicine to Jessup. Pulling your shoes on, you take your keys off the hook and slip out into the hall. You choose not to use the elevator down to the ground floor, taking the steps two at a time. You catch yourself on the railing as you reach the bottom, heart pounding and a little out of breath.

The sky is streaked purple, shadows long in the street. You walk quickly, just short of running, and you’re sure you look a bit silly to anyone who looks out of their window at you. It’s humid. A car roars past. By the time you reach the zoo, the sky is dark. You step over a rat twitching on the ground, blood leaking out of its mouth. Apparently the rat traps are doing something. Or maybe it’s the most unlucky rat in the world.

It doesn’t matter, in the end. It’s not why you’re here.

You spot a pair of Peacekeepers quickly enough, guns in their hands. “No visitors, zoo is closed,” one of them says to you. The other squints.

“You’re an Academy student, I saw you on the TV.” Astute observation. Guards should be rounding the perimeter in a moment. You don’t respond verbally, instead splitting the cash in two and offering it over to them.

They hesitate, but only for a moment. “Be quick,” the first one says as he pockets the money.

“I’m just checking up on my tribute,” you slide past them before they change their mind. If they snitch on you, they’ll have bribe money in their pockets that they will have to explain. Your hands ache. You quiet the fall of your footsteps as you approach the monkey cage where the tributes are being held, counting heads. More than a few are missing, unless you just can’t see them in the dark, hidden behind something.

You skirt the edge of the enclosure, avoiding fallen branches and twigs on the ground, and narrowly missing a box of rat poison. Yeah, you’re pretty sure the rat you saw earlier was just unlucky. A little stupid, too.

“Treech?” You whisper as you approach the bars closest to the boulder he and Lamina have claimed for themselves. You don’t see him at first, and your heart speeds up a little. “Treech?” Just as your bag begins to feel heavy, you spot him and his hat sitting in the shadow of the rock. You don’t see Lamina.

His head snaps up, and you can’t see his expression in the dark. You can see the glint of his eyes though, the little light left in the area reflected off of them. “Y/n?” Your boy sounds a little incredulous. You wave him over, and you hope he can see it.

You kneel down, gently putting your bag on the ground next to you. You watch him gingerly unfold himself, crossing the distance between without a sound. He kneels down slowly across from you. Is he hurt? This close, you can see the dirt and ash on his face. His eyes are hidden in the shadow of his hat.

“Y/n,” he repeats.

“Hi,” you smile, relieved to see him in one piece. “Here,” you reach to your bag, fumbling for a moment as you retrieve the water and unfold the handkerchief from your pocket. He’s silent as you uncap the bottle and pour some onto the cloth. Not too much, just enough to make it damp. You reach through the bars of the enclosure, and push Treech’s hat back, fingers brushing his hair out of your way. You’re a little surprised he lets you.

His eyes track your hands.

“Are you alright?” You whisper, bringing the handkerchief to his face. He’s still for you as you begin to carefully wipe the dirt off of him. “Are you injured?”

“A veterinarian checked me over,” he frowns. You’re appalled. A veterinarian? Your disbelief must show on your face, because he raises his hands. You look down, pausing in your efforts to clean him up, and take in the first degree burns. It could be worse. You can’t tell if there are bruises or burns on the rest of him, though. You can see the skin rubbed raw around his wrists.

“I have something for that,” you promise, trying to scrub a particularly stubborn mark under his eye.

“I have your other cloth,” Treech murmurs, staring at you. His eyes are nice.

“Keep it,” you say. “Give it back to me when you get out of that arena.” He frowns but doesn’t comment. “Listen,” you wipe his face one last time before you’re satisfied. He looks good when he’s kind of damp, like a wet cat. “The arena is completely different. They’re putting cameras down in the tunnels. You can hide underground now, and gifts sent into the arena will serve a real purpose; this year's game is not going to be over quickly.”

“I left Lamina,” Treech says after a moment. “I think I destroyed any strategy you had. I didn’t want to,” he looks at you intensely, and you realize that he’s apologizing.

“You don’t want Coral hunting you,” you fold your handkerchief. You understand why he did what he did. He was just scared.

“I tried to get her to let Lamina join, but she said to drop it or I’ll be first,” he says, tired sadness twinging his voice. You bite your lip.

“Who’s in it?” You try not to let any anxiety creep to the edges.

“Tanner, Coral, Mizzen, and I,” Treech shifts.

“Are they hurt?” You feel around in your bag for the ointments you brought along.

“Just a few scrapes, Tanner’s face is burned.”

“Tanner, is he the district ten boy?”

Treech nods. His chance of survival completely depends on who stabs him in the back first. “I won’t tell you to leave the pack first, but strike before they strike you.”

You pour a little more water on the handkerchief, aiming for a clean section. “Give me your hands, I brought burn cream.” He hesitates, but the promise of medicine persuades him quickly enough, and he sticks a hand through the bars so you can get to it better.

Your boy’s hand is warm in yours, but it might just be the inflamed skin. Resting his palm on your fingertips, you dab the cloth around the red skin, careful to not press too hard as you try to clear the wound of dirt. It’s a little difficult in the dark, and you feel a bit trapped under Treech’s gaze.

“How is Lamina?” You ask quietly. Half your mind is on the blood on your handkerchief that isn’t going to come out without effort.

Treech swallows. “She’s fine. She was crying last I saw her, she won’t talk to me. Says she doesn’t want to win, she just doesn’t want to be alone.”

“I see,” you say. For his sake, you hope Treech isn’t the one to kill her. It’s a good thing that he’s free of her, even if it’s a harsh thought.

“I know,” Treech looks down at his hands as if he can read your thoughts. With the way he was looking at you, he very well might be able to.

“Give me your other hand, don’t let this one touch the ground,” you guide his hand back. He allows you to take the other one without a fight. You repeat the process, trying your best to be gentle as you wipe away any dirt. “Did they put anything on these?” You lift his hand to your face, trying to determine if any medicine had already been applied.

Treech just shakes his head, and you can’t decide what to do with the anger in your stomach. It doesn’t feel like how anger usually sinks into you, but you don’t know what else to call it. You click your tongue, and with one hand supporting his, you spread your handkerchief out in your lap. Your knees sting from where they are pressed into the hard ground. You unscrew the burn cream, suppressing a wince as your stitches pull again.

You set the tube on your lap, guiding Treech’s hand to rest above your knee. It’s better than risking the open wounds rubbing against his clothes, clothes that are covered in dirt and ash and who knows what else. You wipe your hands with a clean corner of your handkerchief, and spread some of the burn cream on your finger.

“This is Capitol stuff,” you tell him, taking his hand that he’s kept in the air for you. His palm is rough, and you resist the urge to press your hand against his. Instead, you begin to rub it into the broken and peeling skin. “Even one coat will act quickly.”

“Feels nice,” Treech watches your hands move. “Cold.” The warm July air of the night seems heavier as he says that, and you become aware of the hair sticking to the base of your neck. You can’t believe Treech has been wearing a jacket this whole time.

You smear the cream across his hand, flipping it over to get the spots on his palms. “Don’t move your hand,” you warn, placing the heel of his palm on your knee. You take up his other hand, dabbing the ointment on the burn. Treech looks as if he’s relaxing as the cold soothes the angry skin. “If the games continue on schedule, your televised interview should be Sunday, three days from now,” you tell him, recalling the schedule Dean Highbottom told you earlier in the week.

Leaving his hand in the air, you wipe your fingers on the edge of your handkerchief. You should have rolled up his sleeve earlier, you have to put something on his wrists too. Hands wiped as clean as they’re getting, you slide your fingers under the edge of Treech’s sleeve, taking care not to bump the raw skin.

Maybe you should have gotten him to just take the jacket off, it isn’t like he’s going to be getting terribly cold. You inspect his wrist, pulling him closer to your eyes. You still have to squint, trying to take advantage of what light you can pick up to see. The skin doesn’t look pretty, but it’s superficial.

“I’ll put a disinfecting gel on these,” you move onto his other wrist, cuffing the jacket. The main damage appears to just be on his hands. The jacket caught the worst of it, but even it isn’t too worse for wear. “Have you considered what you want to do for the interview? I think both strategies I suggested would be fine. Maybe throw in some stuff about your family, a lover, give them something to root for.”

Treech gives you a look as you hover both his hands in the air, and reach for the water again. “It doesn’t have to be true,” you remind him, tipping the bottle over his right wrist, and then the left. Cool water wets your fingers and slips down his skin. You fold the handkerchief over again, patting his wrists dry.

“Think about it for me,” you say.

“I’ll think on it,” he agrees, and you know that’s the best you’re going to get tonight. You uncap the disinfectant, gingerly applying it to his wrists. Treech is quiet as you work, rotating his palm around to apply the gel to the underside of his wrist.

You’re pretty sure you covered it all, but it’s hard to see in the dark.

“Here, I have something for your bruise too,” you wipe your fingers again, reaching for the bromelain cream. “You have to lean closer for me,” you inform him as you squeeze the medicine out onto your index finger.

Treech obliges you, shuffling closer. His gaze is to the side as you reach through the bars, tilting his head to the side and into the slim bit of light from an emergency streetlight. His face feels hot under your fingertips, and, unless it’s a trick of the light, you think his cheeks are dusted a light pink.

Under different circumstances, you might have leaned in for a reason other than trying to help his injuries. He was pretty enough, and it isn’t like every person you’ve ever kissed ended up as the love of your life. You like pretty things, what can you say?

You hold his head in place, dabbing the bromelain on his cheekbone and under his eye. He flinches when you press a little too hard. “Close your eyes,” you whisper. His eyes fall shut, and you gently swipe your finger over his eyelid. The bruising isn’t too bad the higher you go, but a little medicine isn’t going to hurt.

With a tap on his cheek, his eyes open. You smile. “There, much better.” Your boy shifts back. “Let it dry before you go messing with things, it shouldn’t take long,” you pack the medicine back in your bag. You want to wrap his injuries at least, but you’re unsure if he will get in trouble for it. You might, even if he doesn’t. You can’t get him out of the arena if you get a demerit. “This is the best I can do for now.” The handkerchief goes into your bag next.

Treech looks at his hands, and nods. “Okay.”

You’re about to put the water back in your bag, but you think better of it. You’re not sure how clean the faucet water the tributes are given is. Ah, but Treech’s hands are covered in ointments. “Thirsty?” You ask. Treech reaches for it, but freezes before his fingers wrap around the plastic as if just remembering the work you just put in for him.

He frowns looking a bit hurt, and stares at you as if you’re trying to trick him; as if you are mocking him. “Sorry,” you say automatically. “Here, open your mouth.” You bring the water up to him, waiting. You think he’s going to refuse as his brow furrows. He averts his eyes again and allows you to bring the mouth of the bottle to his lips. You wonder what has brought on the docile behavior.

You tilt the water for Treech, who drinks eagerly. When he pulls away, you’re not quick enough, and spill some down his chin and neck. “Oops,” you mutter, sliding your sleeve over your wrist. You’d use the handkerchief, but it’s in sore need of a wash. You wipe the water off of him with an apologetic smile.

“I’ll see if they’ll let me in tomorrow,” you screw the cap back onto the water. “I’ll leave this, but be careful.” There’s only a few swallows left, but it’s something. “You’ll be fine, okay lumberjack?” You’re half convincing yourself of it. You pick up your canvas bag, raising yourself up off the ground. “Get some rest,” you tell him. Brown eyes bore into your own, and that’s where you leave him.

Your hands throb painfully as you walk out of the zoo, able to focus on the feeling now that you’re not paying almost complete attention to your district seven boy. The veterinarian comment continues to bother you as you walk. You wish you could have done more. The feeling of his hands in yours plays over in your head.

You hope the medicine works as intended, there’s no reason for it not to. You need him to be able to hold an ax if you want to win. He’s sure to garner support based on looks alone. For some reason, that bothers you.

Waving as you duck out of the zoo, you whisper thanks as you walk past the guards. They do not acknowledge you, and you thank the stars for it. You’re glad tomorrow is Friday, you’ll have the weekend to plan and talk with Treech, even if you have to keep bribing the guards. You learned early in life that there are very few Peacekeepers who are unwilling to look the other way for a bit of cash.

You fall into bed that night with a strangely giddy feeling in your lungs. It’s paired with a heaviness that you can’t lift off your shoulders. Your dirty handkerchief sits on your vanity, folded into a neat square. The last thing that passes through your mind is the image of Treech kneeling on the ground as you left before sleep overtakes you.

part 1 part 3

#treech/reader.neri

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deniable-masterpiece · 11 months ago

Note

SORRY IF ITS SORT OF HEAVY...-BOW ANON

its so embarrassing to admit this i downloaded twitter. (i know, i know, that was dumb of me, i've never had it before!) but its worse than that! long story short, i was interested in lewd character RP but i was too scared to get my foot through the door. theres an older guy (he sent face pics and stuff with a specific code to prove it was him but i was too scared too...like thats so personal, what if he leaks it after he doesn't get what he wants? but needless to say he did ask but i made an excuse) i was speaking to on there and he keeps pressuring to roleplay with him when i barely had any time (but also no hate but i wasn't into it just yet as well and was super nervous, i kept explaining that to him) but then he went and dumped his a load of texts trying to do actions to me randomly "trying to calm me down" with a tone of something *MORE* (ykyk). he'd done it a lot with other people turns out but because i didnt know how twitter worked as much until i was gonna block him (till i didn't because you'll read why after). anyways i say no thank you very kindly, using some fake excuse. he keeps trying to do it but i pretended i had something to do and i come back and he's texted me SO much...i felt so pressured by him and also myself subconsciously because all i could think was "this is what people my age do, right ???" and "am i that much of a pussy i cant send a few texts ???" i stare at his texts and he is still typing and then he switches up from his detailed texts and typing style thats 'Written Like This.' and just goes "I know you are reading this right now. Why are you ignoring me?" but at THAT point instead of blocking him: i deactivated my account entirely. i still have the urge to roleplay and would love to do that safely but i have no idea what i would do, where i'd start and whatever so it might just have to be something i'd like to do but never get to do ,,, i started writing fics again recently but it's so annoying have to work by yourself and imagine everything that i kinda wanted someone on there to help me get the spark for writing it but i guess not. SORRY FOR WRITING SO MUCH - bow anon

NO YOURE GOOD‼️ Im glad you got that off your chest!

I’m a little lost but I understand that this isn’t easy for you to explain. I’m just a little confused about what exactly happened? He was spamming you because you didn’t send any proof of your face back (which I want this to be known in the nicest way possible, people don’t usually send their face during fictional RPs!) My best advice is just to give your name (or go by a pseudonym online) and your age cause if you’re doing lewd stuff then it’s good to know check if the other person isn’t a minor. But that’s only if you need to, I’m not saying you should give that info to them by any means because these are still strangers on the internet!!

Or was it that you weren’t responding to him fast enough? Sorry like I said I’m a little confused about why he got upset, but people are bitches honestly. But please please please remember that you don’t owe anyone the time of day and twitter is the most entitled and chronically online platform to go to. People your age might be doing this but that’s only doesn’t mean you have to or should feel the need to if it makes you uncomfortable. You also shouldn’t be aiming for older men, and I’m not saying that you were but they do not have good social manners online and can be totally creeps! I knew a guy like that… well, many guys like that. But it sounds like you dodged a major bullet!! And as for the writing, I know it sucks to feel alone on it but I’m here for you!! Whenever you need🫶

I’ve done a few roleplays with a variety of topics, and I know you don’t want to ~reveal yourself~ but I’d be more than accepting if you shot me a dm!

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milliedazzledust · 4 years ago

Text

If A Look Could Kill (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 1429 words

A/N: this is literally a blurb from a scene in the 2nd episode of fatws when they're all in the car after they fought the supersoldiers

They had been in the same car for no more than ten minutes and Y/N was already holding herself back from punching the smug smile on the man pretending to be Captain America. Both fake heroes had showed up in the middle of their fight, throwing around Steve’s shield, acting like the world owed them anything.

Earlier that day, inside the comfort of the apartment she shared with Bucky, she had watched the cocky man parading in front of cameras, standing in a stadium. She had heard him talk about Steve like he knew him, like he had fought along side with him. And when he had compared Steve to a brother, when she had seen the look of hurt and betrayal on Bucky’s face, her heart had shattered.

She knew that sometimes grief could come like a runaway truck, that despite seeing it careening down the highway, we might not have enough time to get out of its way. And she had seen it that morning, that grief smashing Bucky right in the face when he had least expected it. She didn’t know the man the government had chosen to replace the Captain, but she already hated him for causing her lover pain.

"If you guys joined us we could …" The man pretending to be in charge started as the military vehicle was moving.

"No." Bucky hostly cut him.

There wasn’t a lot of space between the five of them. She had been forced to sit next to the man with the shield while her friends were in front of her.

The tension was almost palpable. Sam had his arms crossed and his lips pursed and Bucky was visibly clenching his jaw. Their patience was hanging by a thread and only she seemed to have notice.

Ignoring the conversation they were having, she exchanged a knowing look with her boyfriend. He had a short temper and habits he had picked up from his alter-ego that could potentially get him to explode. Judging by the side glances Sam kept giving him, she guessed she wasn’t the only one worried.

"What do you say, Y/N ?" She heard the man sitting next to her talk.

Unwillingly, she turned around to look at him.

"What was that ?" She asked him.

His smirk alone was enough to make her roll her eyes.

"We could use a … woman like you" He told her suggestively. She didn’t miss the way he looked her up and down, neither did Bucky.

"A woman like me ?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head to the side.

"Yeah, you’ve got potential, babe. So what do you say ?" He said in a seductive voice. "Interested in joining us ?"

A quick glance at her boyfriend was enough for her to tense when she saw him going from annoyed to seriously pissed off. He was scowling at the man with all his old ferocity, looking everything like the assassin he had once been.

"Does he always stare like that ?" Battlestar inquired, nodding toward Bucky.

"You do know your friend is disrespecting Y/N in front of her boyfriend who also happens to be one of the most prolific assassin on this planet, right ?" Sam ironically told him.

The woman narrowed her eyes at the man sitting next to her, irritated by his behavior.

"At what point did you decide we were close enough for you to refer to me as ‘babe’ ? Because I think I missed the memo between the need to punch your face and the craving to shove your ego up your ass"

Bucky’s chest swelled with pride at her comeback and he sniggered. He knew she was a strong woman and had always loved that feisty side of her. She was fire and he was ice, a perfect combinaison yet dangerous association. Even Sam seemed pleased when he noticed Walker growing uncomfortable next to her.

"Look, we know you don’t like us" The other soldier known as Battlestar answered.

"That’s an understatement" Sam muttered under his breath.

"We’re on the same team here" Walker added.

"No, we’re not" Bucky glared at him.

The soldier with the shield sighed. He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before glancing at the men in front of him.

"I’m not trying to replace anyone" He started to explain.

"You couldn’t if you tried" Y/N mocked him.

"My point is, I know I’m not Steve and I’m not trying to be. But I am Captain America"

"Like hell you are" Bucky scornfully stated.

"It takes a lot more than knowing how to throw a shield to become a superhero" Sam reminded him.

"I am what the world need right now" He insisted.

"What the world want. Big difference" Sam continued.

"You were getting your ass kicked back there" Battlestar told them, helping his friend’s case. "We saved you"

"Should we say thank you ?" Y/N ironically threw at them.

"This isn’t up to you. Why are we even arguing about that ?" Walker was getting annoyed.

"Because you’re not even half the man Steve was yet you keep parading like a clown pretending to be someone you’re not" Bucky aggressively spoke with a cold voice. "You don’t get to mention his name, Walker, not when you’re destroying all he’s ever work for"

"Bucky…" Sam called him with a cautious tone, trying to get him to calm down.

The former assassin shut his mouth, refraining himself from saying anything more.

"Obviously there’s some issues you still need to work on" Walker spoke with a grin on his face. "But my offer still stands. We’d work better together"

"Keep on dreaming" Y/N expressed, rolling her eyes.

"If we’re being honest here, the only thing I dream about is you out of that suit" He forcefully flirted, looking down at her superhero outfit

She cringed at his useless attempt of seduction and missed the way Bucky’s expression turned dark in the split of a second. He clenched his jaw so hard his veins were visibly noticeable and his blue eyes were boring into Walker. If a simple stare could kill, he’d already be dead. He looked as menacing as can be with that hostile glare and his anger was reflecting itself through the way his muscles were bulging, ready to attack.

"Don’t do anything stupid" Sam warned him when he realized the man’s patience was running low.

Bucky growled and before any of them could react, the super soldier watched his newfound nemesis casually placing his hand on his girlfriend’s thigh. His entire body tensed and his blood ran cold.

"If you don’t take your hands off me in the next two seconds, you’re gonna lose both of them, Walker" Y/N threatened him.

"I’d take her word, Captain, ‘cause you’re about to be eaten alive" Sam advised him.

The soldier dismissed him and laughed, which only seemed to anger the woman and her boyfriend.

It all happened too fast for anyone to react. Just as Y/N was about to assault the man, Bucky decided to let his rage speak for himself and reached for Walker’s hand, twisting his fingers. He could almost feel the bones on the verge of breaking and his skin had started to turn red as the former assassin applied more pressure. The soldier grunted loudly in pain, trying to release himself from the tightening grip.

"Stop the car !" Bucky shouted.

The vehicle slowed down and he menacingly leaned toward Walker.

"If you so much as glance at her again, I will rip you to pieces"

Maybe it was the tone in his voice, or the serious promise of death he could see in his eyes, but the soldier bit back the lump in his throat, unable to answer. He looked terrified.

"Told you" Sam shrugged as Bucky released the man.

They both stepped out of the car, waiting for Y/N. The woman, still angry, turned to stare at the soldiers in blue and red.

"One more thing" She tilted her head.

Without notice, her fist collided with John Walker's jaw. The loud impact with his face was enough to almost knock him out and she smiled. Pleased with herself, she got up and followed her friends.

"Was that really necessary ?" Sam joked and they started walking.

"Oh c’mon, you know you’ve been dying to punch the guy" She smirked.

Bucky placed his human arm around her shoulders and a sweet kiss on the side of her forehead, secretly satisfied.

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midgardianweasley · 4 years ago

Note

hiii i love your fics so much omg! anyway, i have a request that i've been daydreaming about that haha: nat and r get into a really big fight about smth (anything but cheating pls my heart won't be able to take that) and r kind of shuts down, and wanda & carol become super protective of her and follow her everywhere making sure she's ok. (and they're also glaring at nat any chance they get) but then nat comes into r's room one night and apologizes and they make up and snuggle and its soft hours

thank you so much! and of course lovely! here you go<33

Priorities

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has been missing date nights, leaving Y/N embarrassed for the final time. When confronted, an argument unfolds, but can they come back from it?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: some swearing, some self-neglect

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! <3

“Another drink, miss?” The waiter in a smart, black tux asked you for the second time this evening, a part of you felt that it was out of pity as you sat alone at a table for two, and had been for the last two hours.

You were supposed to be meeting your girlfriend tonight for date night, you got all dressed up, makeup applied and hair styled perfectly, which had taken forever, only to be stood up. You wouldn’t have overly minded if this was a first occurrence, you would’ve brushed it off and rescheduled for another night. Which is what you had done, two missed date nights ago.

This was your third night of sitting alone in a crowded, candlelit restaurant as couples around you glanced over with a sympathetic gaze, which had only made you feel worse. Your girlfriend should be here. ‘Natasha should be here’, you thought. You looked up at the kind waiter, giving him a gentle smile before shaking your head.

“No, thank you. I think I'm calling it a night.” You spoke as you hurried to gather your things and get out of there as soon as possible, trying to hold back tears that you refused to let fall, not in front of all of these strangers. You hated this. You hated feeling so exposed. So vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel anger bubble inside of you, thoughts of Natasha being the only thing currently plaguing your mind, most along the lines of; ‘What was her excuse this time?’ ‘Who is she with instead?’, but, there was one in particular that you couldn’t help but focus on.

‘She promised.’

You hadn’t realised you were crying until you were in the taxi, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror when the driver had adjusted it slightly to see the cars behind you, in the process, you’d also caught her eyebrows raise in concern and it wasn’t long before she started conversation.

“You okay back there?”

You laughed somewhat bitterly, but it wasn’t towards her. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Your response didn’t seem to settle her worry as she turned quickly and shot you a sad smile before returning her eyes to the road.

“Boy troubles?”

“Girl.” You rubbed your face, trying to rid yourself of any tear stains that may be lingering and messing up your once really pretty makeup. Not that it really mattered at this point.

“Ah, been there.” She held up her left hand, showing you the shimmering diamond on her finger. “The wife and I have had our fair share of arguments and fallouts, some of them included a situation like this one.”

“Crying in the backseat of a taxi?”

“Crying in the backseat of a taxi.” She laughed lightly, making you smile for the first time tonight.

“It had always worked out though, we’ve never been stronger.”

“Congratulations.” You looked towards the woman “I hope I could be so lucky.” You mumbled, though still loud enough for her to hear. You were mad at Natasha, more disappointed really, but you still loved her, dangerously so. She could stand you up for another 50 dates, and you’d still be head over heels. Angry, but your love would never falter.

“I’m sure you will be. If there’s one thing I've learned over the years, it’s that things have a way of falling into place eventually.”

Pondering her words, you looked out of the car window and noticed that you were pulling up to Stark Tower. It wasn’t long before the car came to a complete stop, the woman turning round to you and beginning to speak again.

“You’ll be okay. It’s obvious you love her, okay? Speak to her. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” She looked at you with nothing but kindness in her eyes, which you did your best to return with a smile. You reached into your purse, handing her the money owed, plus a tip.

“Thank you for the help.”

“Don’t worry about it, go get her.” She winked as you got out of the car and watched her drive away, quickly taking yourself inside to avoid freezing to death as the cold wind blew harshly. Kicking your heels off, you set off with one task at hand. Talk to Nat.

__________________________

“Hey, have any of you guys seen Nat?” You addressed some members of the team who were hanging out in the Kitchen, fixing themselves a snack or just conversing with one another. The second they looked up and took in their appearance, you could’ve sworn their faces paled and saddened slightly as if they knew what had happened.

“I think I saw her head off to train a while ago, but I'm not sure if she’s still there.” Carol replied, her face morphing into one of seriousness. She knew about the missed dates, having found you one night looking completely defeated in one of your nicest dresses and heels. She, alongside Wanda, who had found you both later that night, had spent their night comforting you and reassuring you that she probably hadn’t meant it. They didn’t know what to do, they’d never seen you look so sad before, no matter how much you told them it was okay, the pang in their chest for their best friend hadn’t ceased.

You nodded, quietly thanking Carol and wandered off in search for your girlfriend.

It didn’t take long, she was still training when you’d walked into the gym, sweat practically pouring off of her. Your heart softened briefly when you saw her, her fiery red hair tied back into a ponytail with loose strands all over the place, wearing a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants and a deadpan face as she attacked the dusty punching bag with such force that you’re surprised it hasn’t flown off of the chains yet.

She hadn’t noticed you had walked in, still giving all of her focus to her punches. Maybe she just hadn’t heard you?

“Hi Nat.”

Nothing.

“Nat”

All you could hear was the furious rattling of chains, still not getting a response from the redhead. With a sigh, you decided to try another approach. You stepped closer to her, still keeping a little distance, and leaned forward to tap her shoulder, instantly grabbing her attention. She flung herself around, arm still in midair, her closed fist almost coming into contact with your face.

You don’t know what you expected when she turned around and finally acknowledged your presence, but you definitely didn’t expect to be met with a scowl.

“Seriously? in the middle of training? I could’ve hit you.” She huffed as she turned back to her previous position.

“Sorry. I just wanted to come in and talk to you.”

“About?”

You paused, expecting her to look at you again, but she didn’t.

With a small sigh, you continued. “you missed date night again. I waited for you, but you were a no show.”

“Right, yeah, date night” she muttered, seeming to be unfocused as her eyebrows furrowed and her head kept darting around the room, looking anywhere but at you. “I’ll make the next one.”

“This is the third one you’ve missed this month.” You said firmly, wanting her to understand that this can’t keep happening, of course cancellations or rearrangements were bound to happen sometimes, but she’s just not showing up and then leaving you in the dark as to knowing why.

“I told you, i’ll make the next one.” She walked over to the bench, picking up her water bottle and taking a swig of water, looking directly at you, you look back at her and she just looks so, unbothered.

“I don’t believe you, Nat. You say you’ll make it up to me and then I sit there again, hoping that you’ll be there this time, but you don’t turn up. And now I come back and you’re just training. Could it not have waited? Was that seriously more important?” You raised your voice now, all the anger and frustration you’d felt earlier coming back up to the surface.

You just wanted an explanation, or something to justify how she was acting, but she gave you nothing, not even an attempt, only adding fuel to the fire.

“Why are you getting so annoyed? You should know better than anyone that this is my job.”

“I just explained that to you! Which is more than what you’re giving me right now.”

“Okay, fine, forgive me for not making everything about you for a minute.” She spat bitterly towards you, her temper starting to go as the discussion became more heated.

“Seriously? That’s how you’re seeing this?” If you weren’t so unbelievably irritated, you would’ve laughed at her response.

“You’re being selfish. So I missed a date or two, you’re blowing this out of proportion once again, it’s infuriating.” Selfish?

You raised both your hands, as if in surrender. It was one thing to ditch you, it was another thing to then insult you for speaking up about it. With a tight lipped smile, oozing with sarcasm, you decided that you’d had enough.

“I don’t need to listen to this.”

She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the gloves she’d just put on. “Then don’t, i’m busy anyways.”. This time, you did laugh.

“What a fucking surprise.”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked out, hearing the echo of punches fill the room once again, every one feeling like a punch to the stomach.

Maybe these are things falling into place, just not the place you’d hoped.

________________________

You were still in bed at noon the next day, unable to bring yourself to get up and face the world. You didn’t need to worry about anything in the confinement of your bed, even more so considering it wasn’t the bed you shared with Natasha.

After speaking, well, arguing with her last night, you went straight to your shared bedroom, gathered some clothes and your essentials, and slept in your old room that you used to stay in before the two of you started dating. It felt wrong. You always spent your nights with a warm feeling of love washing over you as your girlfriend pressed kisses all over your face, tangling your limbs together in the process.

It wasn’t the same. You felt cold, a type of cold that no heating or blankets could solve. You lacked a weight on your waist, fingertips stroking the skin that was exposed due to your top riding up slightly. Instead, the only comfort you had was the small bear you’ve kept for the las year. It was one that Natasha had given you after she won it at the funfair on your third date, and you could never bring yourself to part with it, remembering how happy she looked when she handed it to you, and the butterflies you felt just from seeing her look so pleased.

The bear was a little worn and torn now, it had been ripped in a couple of places, now replaced with a little sewn on patch of material that didn’t exactly match the shade of brown, and one of the eyes had started to fall off, but you liked that it was different. The assassin had tried to offer to replace it and buy you a new one, but you’d always refuse, insistent that you would keep that bear with you for the rest of time. Even now, when the two of you weren’t speaking, you still held onto it with a death-tight grip.

A knock on the door snapped you out of your daydream.

“Y/N, open up, It’s me.” A familiar voice shouted through. Carol.

“And me!” Wanda.

You heard some muttering outside of the door, something along the lines of Carol suggesting they break the door down, immediately being told that it was unnecessary by the Sokovian. Feeling pretty against the idea of having a doorway with no door, you called out for them.

“Guys, it’s unlocked.” You were quiet, but it was clear that they had heard you as the faint talking stopped altogether and you heard them walk in and shut the door behind them with a ‘click’.

Wanda was the first to approach you, kneeling down beside the bed so that she was at eye level with you, pulling the bed covers down a little to uncover more than your forehead. Once she could see your eyes and nose, she sent you a warm smile.

“Hi sleepy. It’s noon.”

“I know.” She frowned when she heard you speak, your voice raspy from your crying through the night. She hated seeing you like this, she loved both you and Natasha, and it hurt to see you so sad because of the woman you adored.

“We should go and eat something, it’ll help.”

“‘M not hungry.” You pressed your head further into the pillow, the last thing you wanted to do was eat, your stomach already feeling like it was twisting with every minute that passed.

“C’mon, i’ll make you your favourite.” the blonde winked, leaning against your wardrobe.

“Your special pancakes?”

“With extra whipped cream.” She sang, playfully trying to encourage you to leave the bed. You had to hand it to her, she knew you too well.

WIth a brief look between the two, you rubbed your eyes and threw the covers off dramatically, sighing and ensuring that they knew you didn’t approve of this. They knew you were joking, even if you weren’t, all they cared about was making sure you were okay, knowing that when you felt like this, being left alone allows you to neglect yourself and get really low. They don’t mind if you dislike them for a little while, as long as you are looked after.

“There we go! Well done.” Wanda stroked your back and led you towards the door where Carol held it open for you.

“No breaking it down behind my back.” You shot towards her, slightly amused at the guilty look on her face as she realised you’d heard her quarrel beforehand. Shaking her head, she nudged you out of the door, and the three of you made your way into the kitchen.

_______________________

Carol had stuck to her promise of preparing a sweet treat for you, a stack of fluffy pancakes sat in front of you, topped with whipped cream and two cherries on top. You ate slow, still a little cautious of how stable your stomach felt. You could see your two friends talk with one another, not wanting to stare and make you uncomfortable, but occasionally looking over silently to check in on you.

You were feeling pretty content as you sat at the counter, munching away with the two avengers for company. It was only when you heard a voice that you could recognise anywhere.

“Hi guys.”

Not daring to look up, you ket your eyes focused on the food in front of you, hoping that if you just stay quiet, you’ll be invisible to the human eye.

“Hey Nat.”

“Hi.”

Wanda and Carol replied, wary of any interaction between the pair of you that could unfold into something neither of you wanted or that would lead to any regrets.

You lifted your head slightly, able to see the daggers Carol was throwing at Nat, not impressed with her being in the room. You both had always been quite close, often talking about life before becoming superheroes that protect the planet, in her case, planets. In the process, she’d found herself having a soft spot for you, wanting to protect you from anything that could bring you harm. Which you were grateful for, but her glaring was terrifying sometimes, you were more grateful for the fact that her powers weren’t in her eyes, otherwise you would’ve definitely become single five minutes ago.

You could see Natasha out of the corner of your eye, she was filling up the bottle she used for when she was training, her eyes weren’t on what she was doing, instead, she was trying to subtly look up at you through the hood of her eyes. You subconsciously took the opportunity to really take in her appearance.

Her hair hadn’t been tended to since you last saw her, half of it was hanging out of her ponytail, most of it falling in front of her face. Her eyes looked glassy and bloodshot, like she had been crying recently and you could’ve sworn that was your t-shirt she was wearing. The sight sent a wave of sadness over you, wanting nothing more than to leap over the counter and pull her into your arms and tell her things were fine, that the two of you were fine. But you stayed seated, too nervous to make a move.

You didn’t know it, but she regretted speaking to you last night, instantly realising what she’d done after she came back to her room to find it empty and half of your stuff gone. She knew immediately where you’d gone and would’ve gone through to talk it through with you, but she didn’t think it would help. She wanted you to have your time and space before approaching the situation.

With that, she tightened the lid on her bottle, sent you an apologetic smile and walked out of the room, leaving behind an awkward atmosphere in her absence.

“You alright?” Wanda asked

“Yeah, yeah no I'm okay. I’m feeling a little tired though, I'll catch you guys in a bit, okay?” You stood from your seat, not giving either of the two a chance to stop you as you walked out and back to bed. What a day.

_______________________

Hours had gone by now and you were back wrapped up under your bed covers, still clinging onto your bear. You hadn’t bothered to change, you went straight to bed after walking in the door. You’d managed to get some sleep earlier, not a lot, but it was something.

You tossed and turned, trying to find any way of being comfortable so your body could rest and your mind could shut off, but it was deemed to be impossible. All you could think about was your argument with Nat, and how she looked so upset earlier. The thought alone triggered the waterworks again, this time, you didn’t even attempt to stop them.

Only a couple of minutes had passed before there was yet again, another knock on your door. You rolled your eyes, really not wanting any more visitors, you were grateful for the help, but you really wanted to be alone.

“Guys, I’m fine! It’s late, get some sleep.” You called out, waiting to hear retreating footsteps, but they never came. Huh. That’s weird? You brushed it off quickly, assuming that it must’ve just been too quiet to hear, which you wouldn’t put past you due to all the sniffling you’ve been doing in an attempt to silence your crying.

You were wrong. The person at your door hadn’t walked away. They also weren’t Wanda or Carol. Instead, it was who you least expected to be in your room at god knows what time at night after the events that had unfolded recently.

“Hi.” The redhead whispered, worrying that if she spoke any louder, you’d be able to hear her voice shake with nerves, or the huge lump in her throat that wouldn’t budge.

You froze on the spot when you realised who it was, not entirely sure how you were gonna play this. Realistically, you might as well just see what it is she wants, it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Hey.”

Her footsteps were practically silent but still felt deafening as she stepped closer to you, cringing slightly at how tense and forced all of this felt. It was her fault, she knew that, she hoped you did too. She didn’t want you blaming yourself for her actions, although she couldn’t say anything if you did, she was the one who had insulted you and planted the thought in your head, and she felt every fibre in her body beg for you to forgive her.

Approaching with caution, she walked up to the top of the bed, kneeling where Wanda had been earlier, but unlike Wanda, she didn’t reach out for you. She didn’t feel she had the right. Not now. She quickly took note of your eyes and how they were drooping and red, just like how hers had been earlier, which is how she could know in an instant that you had just been crying. She felt like a knife had gone through her chest at the sight, knowing that she had done that to you. She’d let you down so much that it had brought you to laying in bed alone and crying.

You mumbled something incoherent, completely muffled by the covers that were blocking your mouth.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you through the cover, could you tell me that again?”

You looked down a little, debating on doing it or just asking her to leave this conversation for another day. ‘But, she was already here, so you may as well get on with it.’ you thought, and with that, you tugged the covers down a little, letting Natasha see your full face now, unable to stop a tiny hint of a smile creeping up on her face. Your nose was runny, your eyes were puffy, and your face was flushed, but that didn’t change the fact that she still believed you to be the most beautiful woman she’d seen.

“Has something h-happened?” You hiccuped, noticing the frown take over her features as she maintained her eye contact with you.

“Yeah. i was a complete idiot.”

“Nat-”

“No, no, please. I want to explain. I need to explain. Please?” She pleaded, not caring how desperate she might’ve looked.

You paused for a minute before sighing gently, nodding at her and giving her a non-verbal go ahead to continue. She took a deep breath, looking away for a second then looking back at you before you could even blink. You could see her hands tremble a little, and while you were upset with her, you couldn’t leave it alone. You reached your hand out from under the cover and held it out to her, offering it for her to hold. She grabbed it without hesitation, squeezing it gently as a single tear fell, gathering the courage to say her next words.

“I have no excuse for what I did. There is nothing I could say that would make my actions plausible or acceptable, I shouldn’t have treated you like that or said what I did, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, or don’t want to. But I needed-, no, I need you to know, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve better.”

More tears had fallen down her face at this point, her thumb not ceasing in their circular movements on the back of your hand. She didn’t know if this was going to be the last time she felt your hand in hers, so with every circle, she was savouring the moment, no matter how badly she wished it was under different circumstances.

You shuffled a little so you were in a more upright position, hoping that it would make speaking easier. You’d taken in every word, and while you were hurt, extremely hurt, you saw how remorseful she was. Her face showed no sign of humour or like she was lying. You could always tell when she was lying, her eyebrow always twitched a little, which you would always be in stitches about when she tried to say she didn’t eat your last cookie and her eyebrows would be moving like mad. They were as still as stone when she was speaking this time.

“You really hurt me, Nat. I didn’t think I was asking for much, just some time with you, that was all. And you left me every time, for work and with no notice. It was embarrassing.” She nodded in acknowledgement as she listened. “A-and then to come back and witness you being so, so, hostile, with me, I didn’t understand what I'd done.”

She gulped audibly before speaking again. “You hadn’t done a thing. Not a thing. I-I threw myself into work, into training. The last mission, I was sloppy, I wasn’t on my A game, it almost ended up with other people seriously hurt. So I thought-” She took a shaky breath in. “I thought, if I trained harder, It would mean I would be better for the next mission. But I disregarded everything else on the radar, including you, and then I got so mad at myself for it that I ended up taking it out on you instead. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, and it was out of order for me to ever say so. It was wrong, and I don’t think I can apologise enough.`` She gave you an apologetic smile, tears streaming down her face steadily now.

“You know, when I came home from the restaurant, I had this driver.” You smiled. “Nice woman, she’s got a wife. She was telling me that it wasn’t easy for them. They had their ups and downs, their fights and bitterness. But they always found their way back to each other.” You whispered so softly that if there was any other noise in the room, Natasha wouldn’t have heard a word.

“And, when we argued, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to come back from that. I thought that maybe our time had expired.” You sniffled, your own tears trailing their way down your cheeks. Without thinking, she wiped them away, her palm pressing onto your warm cheek as you nuzzled into it, still finding comfort in her touch.

“I don’t want us to expire, Nat.”

There it was. There was the sentence that turned silent tears into fully body wracking sobs, your hands instinctively going to pull away and cover your face, instead, Natasha brought herself up to sit on the side of your bed, hastily bringing you into her chest and her free hand combing its way through your hair.

She rocked you back and forth, letting you get everything out of your system, no matter how much it hurt to hear.

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, moya lyubov.”

Your sobs soon died down with Nat’s help, sobs turning into faint pants with how tired you were and how much energy it had taken out of you. You looked up at her softly, as she smiled down at you.

“I love you, Natty.” You murmured, the words making the assassin’s heart grow fonder for you, if that was ever possible.

“I love you more.”

“Can you stay with me tonight? I can’t sleep without you.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” She leaned over you, bringing the blankets back up and over you, catching a glimpse of some brown fur among the darkness. She knew exactly what it was. She picked up up with the blankets and handed it to you, happiness overtaking her as she saw your eyes light up at the teddy she won for you.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Detka.” She pressed a kiss to your temple before settling down, holding you tight in her grasp, refusing to let you go for anything or anyone, not that you were complaining, you’d missed this.

Nothing had to be decided tonight, there was no rush for discussion. Sure, there were still things to talk through and work out, but that can wait. All that mattered right now, was that Natasha was there. She was holding you in her arms and you felt every ounce of love and apology she could give you. And that was enough for now.

taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova @wvnda-maximoff

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fandom #natasha romanoff fluffy

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atinywhore · 3 years ago

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chapter 1

ateez x reader

word count: 2873

warnings: violence, use of knife, swearing, a pathetic man but what man isn't pathetic am I right? , mentions of previous abuse, drugging?

an: this chapter one to my mafia series. this will turn into a yunho x reader over time but its gonna be a slow burn typa thing ;p. I have been dying to write this and get it posted and share with the world! please be kind, give lots of love and enjoy you dirty hoes:)

p.s: I'm getting this ins just in time for yunho's b-day! SO happy birthday to our puppy! I love him and dear god I hope none of them know about fan fiction and how crazy we all are lol

also lol I have playlist that I wrote this too... if you'd like to listen to it lmk and maybe I could drop the link..

tag list: @ch0isa99ie @mingigoo @ateezinmymind @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet @spiderlilyfics

edited 01/12/24

The sound of bone crunching and the metallic smell of blood flooded my senses, drawing me from my swirling thoughts. “Do you know how much you owe us old man?” The newly opened cut bleeds, the bright red liquid now running down his cheek and onto his ripped wife beater. Stuttering in fear at the man wielding the knife in front of him, trying to get his response out. “Huh? Can’t fucking speak now? How about I take out your tongue, then you really won’t be able to.” I see my brother grab the old man’s tongue and pull it from his mouth. “Enough W. We need him to be able to talk. For now.” He stops, just as the steel is about to cut off the muscle. Stepping closer to the disgrace of a man before me, his dirty brown eyes follow my movements, growing even wider with fear as I am now merch inches from him.

“My brother tells me that you owe one of our casinos a rather large sum.” I gesture back to my other brother, Y, who is casually leaning against the metal beam of some warehouse we are in. “He has also informed me that you have had plenty of notices and still have outright refused to pay what we are owed.” The man begins to sputter out apologies and excuses, pleading for his life. “If you can’t pay… then you have two options, old man.” His eyes, now white with fear. “Option one, you die.” The man began to cry when the word “die” left my lips. Scoffing, I kick my boot out and it connects with his shin. The faint crunch of bones is almost like music to my ears. He screams out in curses and pleas for this torture to be over. “Option two, you pay upfront with an equal or better value of your existing debt.”

30 minutes go by of nothing but continued sobs and empty promises, I am starting to get fed up with this man. “Okay since you don’t have anything of value to offer as payment, I guess there’s only one option left..” I can see the material of the light gray sweatpants the man is wearing grow dark around his crotch and then being hit with the stench of piss. “No- no please! I’ll give you anything you want but please-PLEASE don’t kill me.” W comes back over to the man from where he was standing and crouches down until they are at eye level. “We have already determined that you have nothing we want, old man.”

He frantically searched his mind for some way to keep him from his death sentence but he seemed to come up blank. Thoroughly annoyed now with this pitiful excuse of a man I looked towards W, clearly itching to get his hands dirty, I nod, giving him the signal to do what he does best. I watch him stalk towards his prey, his eyes black as the suit I’m wearing. Knowing what’s going to happen next, I make my leave, not wanting to stain my new suit.

“Please, please you have to spare me! I can’t die! I have little ones to take care of!” W laughed. I heard the man scream out in pain as the knife tears apart the man’s skin. “We know everything about you.” Not turning around to face the scene behind me. “We know where you live and work. We know how much money you make every year and how much of it you blow at our casinos. We also happen to know that you have one daughter who is 20, so don’t bother trying to lie to us.” It’s almost as if I can hear the wheels turning in his head, the rusty cogs scraping against each other like it’s been years since he last thought something through. “Wait!” I almost debate not stopping and keeping going. But, curiosity takes over and I turn back to the bloody man before me. “Take her.” I go hot with anger. “You are even more pathetic than I thought you were.” I can feel Yeo's presence to my left, also curious at the man’s offer. “P-Pplease, she's young and good-looking. I’m sure she could fill any… needs you might have for her.” I couldn’t help but let out a laugh at this scum in front of me. “So what you're telling me old man, is that you would rather your child be used, in every possible way by my brothers and me instead of you paying for your debt?” I circle the man who has now gone pale, either from the loss of blood or from the situation he is now in. I stop next to W and he hands me the knife. The handle is now sticky with the dried blood, the cool gray steel is painted with spots of dark brownish-red blood. I take the tip of the blade and press the point to my middle finger, holding the weapon on display for the quivering man before me.

The 8 of us are brothers by choice not by blood. We found each other at our worst, tackling our demons together, to become the most powerful men in all of Aurora. No one can hurt us anymore, as long as we have each other.

One of my elder brothers and our leader, Hong Joon, is the fiercest of us all. He is the man who rules the other 7 of us, running the entire city of Aurora simultaneously. Our leader is the glue that holds us all together, making us a family.

We keep our leader a mystery to the public, so in his stead, I have become the face of our company and the worst fear to anyone within the boundaries of our city. My name, Yunho, has replaced The Boogeyman. My name, never spoken. Like by just saying my name, might summon me.

There is one other boss excluding Hongjoon and myself, Seonghwa. He is just as bat shit crazy as the rest of us but he keeps the most level of headed, taking into account the reality of our decisions.

The direct responsibilities of our control are divided and handled by the rest of my brothers. Yeosang runs all the gambling, strip, and nightclubs.

San is in charge of acquiring and handling the maintenance of the entirety of our real estate.

Mingi runs interference between law enforcement, making sure there isn’t anything that could cause drastic repercussions to our rule.

Wooyoung is the craziest. He finds and supplies us and all of our men with weapons of all different kinds. He has connections with everyone and next to me he is the most feared of us all, but we rarely let him off his leash, or else a lot of people could get hurt.

Lastly, Jongho, the strongest of us all, controls every soldier under our payroll, ensuring their loyalty by any means necessary. He hires the best and trains the worst to beat the best.

“I’m going to repeat myself once again.” I drag the knife across his collarbone and shoulder blades as I continue to circle him slowly. “You would rather your daughter suffer for your negligence than yourself?” I stop in front of him and look down at the man. A bright red line now dominated the man’s clavicle, no doubt rounding to his back. The man's face is now slack, trying to fight against the pain. My knife now stopped above his heart. I press the blade deeper into his muscle. His face contorts and he finally answers “Yes, I would rather you take her than I die! She is a useless daughter anyways.” He screams out as I press further into his skin, bloodstains his beater. I can feel the muscle separating from itself as the knife glides deeper into his chest. I rip the knife from the man's chest causing him to scream out. “Wooyoung take care of him but don’t kill him, for now.” Yeosang follows me out of one of our many warehouses, leaving Wooyoung to do this thing.

Hongjoon is waiting for us in his office when we get back to the loft. We handle all of our business at a location separate from where we live. We try to keep the work away from home as much as we can, but sometimes it’s unavoidable, like the situation we were just called into. I was not supposed to be called out today, but Yeosang brought the man's immense debt to our attention and my appearance became necessary.

“How’d it go Yunho?” Hongjoon said without looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. He looked so regal in this state. His royal blue suit without a single wrinkle or flaw. His jacket was unbuttoned showing the thin white button-down underneath, not a single thread out of place. He is the best of us and he always makes sure to look it, even if no one but us sees him. “Are we getting our money?” He looks up and leans back in his chair, leather groaning against his movement, and folds his hands in his lap.

“What do you think?” I plop down into one of the chairs facing his desk. “The man was practically pissing himself when I made it clear how things work with us.” Yeosang sits down in the chair next to me, elbows resting on his knees as he blows out a long breath. “He told us to take his daughter as payment.” The heels of his hands press into his eyes.

My brother Yeosang has always had a soft heart. He looked the girl up in the car ride back to the office. Y/n, 20 years old, an only child and now working multiple part-time jobs to support herself and her father. Her mother died when she was only 8 and according to the multitude of hospital reports, her mother was beaten and sexually assaulted often. He didn’t have the heart to look at the massive list of hospital reports for Y/n, no doubt matching her mothers.

Hongjoon tries to hide his shock when Yeosang pulls out his phone with her life story. We see a lot of things, but not when it comes to this type of situation. We are in foreign territory here. “How I see it is that we have two options.” Hongjoon tears his eyes reluctantly away from the phone, no doubt admiring the photo provided of the girl.

My stomach turned and my palms sweat when I first saw her picture. How could such a beautiful woman grow out of such horrendous circumstances? The pixels that made up this godly woman made every hair stand on my body and this tremendous urge came to pull her from the darkness and protect her. I shoved the phone back into Yeosang’s hands and moved away from those thoughts, I had to. I can’t go down that road again. “Our first option is to just kill the man and leave her to pay off her father's debt.” I can see Hongjoon’s eyebrow furl with hesitation, the break-in in his neutral expression. He too has been hooked by the girl. “Or we take the girl as his payment and make the man suffer for his cowardice.” Yeosang shakes his head in agreement with my second option and Hongjoon too agrees, now we just need the rest of the family to agree.

The night shift at the diner was the worst. I always get stuck with the graveyard shift because I’m the new hire. I haven’t had a single customer come in for almost two hours. I have already cleaned, stocked, and prepped everything for my relief to come in, but that won't be for another 3 hours. I won’t have much time before I need to get to the bar to pull a double.

I’m sitting in one of the booths, rereading my favorite book when I notice headlights pulling into the parking lot. Marking my place, I get up and make my way over to the counter to grab my notepad. I can’t help but yawn as I stretch out my stiff muscles. The bell rings and the click of footsteps quickly fills the diner, drowning out the soft pop playing in the background. “Hello, welcome to Granny’s-” I can’t manage to finish my sentence as I turn around to see 4 expensive-looking men looking around the diner. All have their heads turned but the tallest, his eyes are locked on mine.

The purple and blue fluorescents highlight his features from the fullness of his lips to the darkness lurking in his eyes. He fixes the gold cufflinks at the ends of his sleeves slowly and my attention is drawn to the full length of the man before me. His broad shoulders, lean torso, and legs are covered in a well-fitted black suit. His large hands move to the buttons of his jacket. The black pristine shirt underneath hangs from his frame. Not only does he scream beauty but the way he’s looking at me has my senses heightened and muscles tighten, ready to run at a moment's notice. Danger emanates from this mysterious man and a small part of me is intrigued by the fear.

His companions moved about the diner, all equally put together and dangerous as the one still stood in front of me. “Um. If you’d like to take a seat I can get you started with something to drink.” I motion to the booth I had just been sitting at. “No need, we won't be here for long. We just came to collect something that belongs to us.”

My mouth went dry as I realized I was now encircled by the men. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door to the kitchen, where the back door was. “What do you mean?” I stand frozen. “We came to take what's owed to us girl.” One of the men spoke from behind me, causing me to turn to face him. He was not as tall as the previous one I faced, but he looked to be the strongest out of the four of them.

“I don’t understand what’s going on here. I don’t know any of you.” I spun slowly in a circle to face them all until I made eye contact with the tallest of them once again. He smirked and took a step toward me. I moved a step further away. We kept our steps up until I was flush with the counter, only feet away from my only attempt at escape. Fear crawled down my spine and sweat-dampened parts all over my body. My pulse quickened with each step he took closer to me. I should take the chance and run for safety, but my brain doesn’t send the signal. Something within the danger of the man pursuing me sedates me.

“You don’t know us Y/n, but we know all about you.” The darkness of his gaze and the roughness of his voice strikes fear deep inside of me. “We won’t hurt you y/n, as long as you come with us without causing any problems.” The man to my right says, turning my attention to him for a split second. Something about his sharp features and warm eyes sends a wave of calm over me, but it disappears as I take in the man towering over me now.

“You belong to us now Y/n.” I stare up at him as I shake, either out of fear or because of the proximity between us now. My hands grip the edge of the counter behind me, steading me as my head spins. “How? I mean… How could this have happened-” The realization hits me. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes and my face flushed from anger. “The fucking bastard.” Coming out barely a whisper, I let my head hang as the emotions wash over me. All hitting me like a bus, pulling me back in time to when I was still stuck under his control. I thought I had managed to finally escape him, but I guess he wasn’t finished using me. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” I push the man away from me but his hand grips my wrist, keeping it in place on his chest.

“Yes, you will.” He uses my arm to pull me even closer to him. I’m now straining my neck back to look him in the eyes. My own widened with shock as I see his lips curl up into an intimidating smile. “Your father traded his daughter as payment for his debt to us and the one thing you need to know about us y/n is that we always collect our payments.” Before I can respond, a cloth comes from my left and the stench fills my nostrils and soon my lungs. My senses dull and my vision blurs. The last thing I feel before my world goes black is being held and the mumbling of voices.

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #mafia au #ateez mafia au #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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lolibles · 4 years ago

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playing video games with them| anemo boys <3

characters: kazuha, xiao and venti

very fluffy, a little suggestive in kazuha’s part, slight slight angst for xiao, crack

synopsis: what games you play with them, how they act with you!

not proofread please don’t sue me this is also very random :)

kazuha

playing stardew valley and animal crossing with kazuha is my life goal that will never be fulfilled please cry with me. anyway, just imagine cuddling on the sofa under a thick blanket on a cold rainy day with cups of hot chocolate or tea whilst playing stardew valley. the both of you work through the first year slowly as little farmers doing cute little farm things. also if you ever chose to get into a relationship with any of the npcs in the game kazuha will not be happy, he’d definitely not talk to that particular npc because he is now kazuha’s “sworn enemy”. he will also be a pouty baby, so please apologise and give him kisses. and if you REALLY want to make it up to him, ask him to marry you in animal crossing and this man will be on his knees in a split second. he’d prepare EVERYTHING, from the venue, the guests, he’d even attempt to design his own tux for his little character to wear. and you guys would have such an adorable animal crossing wedding. also because kissing in game is not enough, he’d probably kiss you irl when the wedding officiant says you may now kiss the xx. honestly i see kazuha even going out spontaneously to buy you a promise ring with a little maple leaf engraved in it for you. yes it was an animal crossing wedding, but it was a wedding non the less. playing minecraft with kazuha please, its so fucking wholesome- he’s so good at the game and he doesn’t even try. he knows all the tricks and he’s so sexy with redstone you cant convince me otherwise. he’s also an amazing builder pls wtf. AND OH MY GOD, imagine playing the sims4 with kazuha, he’d literally cry inside. you both would sit next to each other in front of the computer screen for hours just designing your characters. and you would have a little cat too. everytime kazuha’s character flirted with yours, he will definitely shoot you one of his romantic haikus. also the first time your characters woohoo’ed, he most likely would have teased you and said “its unfair that only they get to woohoo you know.” anyway i think playing wholesome games with kazuha is 10 bells out of 10 bells.

xiao

now this one is kinda scary. i think its pretty obvious that xiao plays shooter games honestly. or anything that has to do with fighting. it wasn’t unusual to hear him literally SCREAM randomly throughout the day because of a game. if you ever play shooter games with this aggressive boy, please proceed with caution. i honestly feel like he would be so caught up in the heat of the moment he’d actually forget he was playing with you. so if he ends up getting angry, please bare with him- he honestly doesn’t mean to call you bad, or useless, or trash… I SWEAR. xiao will immediately regret his words and he’d feel so bad. especially after he notices how your mood just instantly dies. he’d feel so bad, even after he apologised and you forgave him, he can’t accept the fact that he just called you- the love of his life something so vulgar. and since he’s so awkward and bad with people he’d literally feel like crying on the spot. he wouldn’t know what to do to make it up to you. the next few days, xiao was so cautious around you- even if you didn’t think much about the incident anymore. in the end even xiao was unable to stay away from you for too long, and he’d ask you to watch him play games instead- which you happily agreed to. he loves it when you straddle him while he sits in his chair while gaming though he’d never admit it. but whenever you felt him get tense, all you had to do was give him a kiss and you just knew he’d calm down. you literally work magic on him. also occasionally you’d hear some idiots in his party talking shit about him, you wouldn’t think twice before speaking into the microphone and start standing up for him, and your grip around his waist would definitely tighten a lot more. “if i ever hear you talking shit about MY boyfriend one more time, i will literally come in game and beat the absolute fuck out of you.” yassss girlboss! xiao’s heart would explode and his face would be beat red, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. also he thinks your so sexy standing up for him like that, please don’t tease him about it. i rate him a “please dont scold me im trying my best” out of “FUCK YOU SUCKKKKKK”

venti

oh my god, horror games. he hates them but he can’t stop. playing phasmophobia with him would be incredibly fun, but he would make you do all the work literally. he’d be too scared to do anything- and if you ever got caught with the ghost you’d be stupid to think he’d try to save you. he would be the first one out the door and running away. he’s also so loud, your honestly more likely to get jump scared by his screaming than the actual game. other than that i think venti likes to play the sims4 too, except he’s so chaotic about it. he wants to do challenges and he also wants to make like 10 babies with you even if your sims can’t afford them- cries when they are taken away. has all the packs and just enjoys fucking around with everything- also makes bets with you, like whether your baby is going to be a boy or girl, and if you lose you owe him a kiss or he asks you to do something for him. when he plays with you, he needs to be touching your body at all times. he says it makes him feel safe, and warm. so you just let him. venti also wants to play karaoke games with you, he loves your voice so much- whether you can sing or not he loves it. but he will tease you if you cant. he loves duetting with you, to him it’s something very intimate and close to home. he wants to hold your hand and give them a squeeze as an encouragement when you sing with him. and yes you guys probably have played just dance a few times, but venti gets incredibly tired after one round- so please bare with his annoying ass. i think venti is a solid 8 red bulls out of “ive already drank 15”

guys i was supposed to include aether but his part disappeared and i- </3 i’ll have to rewrite and upload it in a second part!! heh sorry for being gone for so long, anyway i have my presentations tomorrow, a test on thursday and another presentation on friday ;-; wish me luck! ill be back writing in a few days while i suffer rn sghshshsh

also @truegaypotat my love here is some xiao content <3

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years ago

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Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd. When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life. They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene. For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey. Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him. With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did. “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face. She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.” Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well. So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit. “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.” For that, she received a slap on her arm from him. “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.” That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

“Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.” With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn’t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise. And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something. But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had. “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.” The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms. In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head. She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have. And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant. Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all. Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever. He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her. The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her. Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her. That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last. He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him. Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend? Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’ Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others. Bring Back Manly Men. At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life. “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.” Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?” “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.” “Why?” Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.” “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?” “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.” He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen. Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle. Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had. Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.” At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!” “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?” “You’re a menace.” Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.” His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head. For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?” Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.” “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.” She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!” “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?” “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.” Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?” “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?” “Deal.” “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“ But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call. She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her. When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox. “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.” He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.” “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after. “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.” That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.” “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.” “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.” The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’. To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N. The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck. I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing. Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.” “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.” But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn��t do anything. Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word. He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on. But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself. Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone. Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.” That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?” “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.” “What? Why?” “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.” Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.” “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip. She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?” “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood. “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.” Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.” It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time. Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.” She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’ Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry. Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings. As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked. “Have you even slept, Har?” “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.” Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.” “I know, but I will.” Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over. She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head. “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?” But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around. “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two. Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?” “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.” Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?” “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.” Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her. All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together. Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course. For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together. As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot. No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to. A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing. “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.” She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest. Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set. This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’. Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?” “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?” “I told you I would!” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.” Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?” “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.” “That’s what friends do.” “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?” And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do. The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest. His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face. She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.” Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.” “And you’re a living furnace.” “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?” The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.” For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work. “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.” He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?” “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.” “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves. “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.” Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.” “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?” “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?” She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?” “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?” “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.” “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.” Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back. It was then or never. Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart. “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?” “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.” Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.” “Oh.” That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.” At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session. In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible. As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers. “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded. “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.” Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it. “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.” “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp. “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.” But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on. The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her. But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.” Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.” And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment. “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him. “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.” “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.” “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.” But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?” “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…” Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!” And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes) – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

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: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission.

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker au #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 1/2021) - Breaking Point

Sam has been unable to find a cause for the security breach, leaving Tommy trapped. A heated argument in the cell escalates to a horrifying end.

As the rest of server mourns, the Eggpire celebrates. With their biggest obstacle in the way of their objective gone, it’s time for the next step.

It’s the start of the Final Stage.

---

VOD LINKS:

HBomb94

Ponk

Tommy

Tubbo

Ranboo

Jack Manifold

Connor

Badboyhalo

Captain Puffy

---

- HBomb hosts Foolish and Jack Manifold’s episode of L’Cast!

---

The Prison Stream

(This portion of the recap will be more detailed than normal since it’s one long conversation and there are many important lines here, including a couple that were hard to hear during the stream)

---

- Tommy’s stream starts with him making sounds and singing “Roadtrip.” Dream tells him to stop, he’s trying to write a book.

Tommy: “What are you writing, Dream? What are you writing?”

Dream: “None of your business.”

- There’s a little gray and white cat sat on the chest. Tommy says it’s annoying.

Dream: “No he’s not...he’s actually the best thing that’s happened to us.”

Tommy: (Trying to lead the cat away) “Come with me, come with me...you know what I named him, don’t you? Pussboy, Pussboy!”

- The cat returns to its spot on the chest

Tommy: “Oh, Pussboy, you are so ugly.”

Dream: “C’mon, you’re being mean!”

(Tommy punches the cat)

Dream: “Tommy! Stop!”

- Tommy starts singing “Roadtrip” in autotune. Dream tells Tommy that if he can be quiet, he’ll give Tommy more potatoes.

Dream: “I think that...the cat is the best thing that’s happened to us.”

- Sam joins the call to say hello and ask how it’s been going. He’s come to drop more food into the cell. Tommy also picks up a new clock.

- Tommy asks to be let out, but Sam says he still hasn’t found out what the security issue is. Dream asks how long Tommy will be in here for. Potentially for a while, but not forever.

- Tommy protests about how bad the prison has been. He threatens to get lawyers on Sam, he knows Big Law.

Tommy: "Sam...you know I don’t deal very well in...close quarters situations for a long time, Sam. Sam, you remember when you visited me in exile, Sam? Alright, this is worse than that, Sam...let me out. I don’t like this. Let. Me. Out. Sam.”

- Sam insists he’s doing the best he can and leaves.

- Dream tries to say that it’s not that bad. He’s been in there for a long time, but now it’s better! Tommy writes a book to Dream, signs it and throws it to him.

Dream: “I have company. I have a cat -- I mean, technically it’s not my cat, technically it’s your cat, but still! It’s just as good, keeps me company when I write and everything, we talk sometimes -- ‘cause you’re annoying a lot of the time--”

- Dream throws away the clock in the lava, saying they don’t need it. Tommy punches the cat again.

Dream: “Tommy, hear me out, hear me out...what if...we get out together, okay?”

- Tommy is not a fan of the idea, Dream shouldn’t be let out too. He goes over to the cat and shouts at it for being in his spot. He punches Pussboy twice.

Dream: “Tommy...TOMMY, STOP!”

Tommy: “Excuse me! Come this way, come this way, excuse me Dream I’m trying to right-click Pussboy--”

(Dream moves to get in front of the cat)

Dream: “Tommy.”

Tommy: “Come here, come here! Do you like this cat, Dream?”

Dream: “Yes, I do.”

Tommy: “Why?”

Dream: “Because he -- Tommy, he keeps me company --”

(Tommy punches Pussboy again and leads him towards the lava)

Tommy: “Pussboy, this way. Pussboy, this way. Let me show you the light--”

Dream: “He’s probably low, he’s probably low!”

Tommy: “Oh what, you love him? Do you love him? Do you love him?”

Dream: “Yes, I do...Tommy, he’s made things better in here -- okay listen! When you leave, can you sit him down and leave him here?”

(Tommy goes over and punches Pussboy again. He tries to lead Pussboy away again, but when the cat doesn’t come he punches Pussboy twice more, killing him)

Tommy: “Yeah. And that’s what happens when you love something, bitch.”

...

Tommy: “See, now when I leave, when I leave, you’ll have nothing! ‘Cause you are lonely, and you’re m-m-manipulative, you’re a fuckin’ twat, and I mean that.”

Dream: “Tommy...I’m gonna get out! And you just motivated me -- you motivated me all the time, you just -- that was hope, right? The cat was hope -- the cat was hope that I could live a nice life in here--”

Tommy: “And now it’s dead, now it’s dead.”

- Dream insists that he’ll get out, and when he does, he’ll get his revenge on everyone who wronged him. Tommy asks if he’d kill Tubbo.

- The subject goes back to Dream’s plan of escape.

Dream: “I have a plan. And the thing is, Awesamdude’s never gonna believe you that I have a plan because he thinks it’s unbreakable, unescapable--”

“I have a plan. And you know, there’s a certain someone who owes me a favor, but -- that might be a part of it, but...I do have a plan.”

- They argue about the conditions of the prison again.

Dream: “I’ve been in here a for hundred times longer than you, and you sit there trying to tell me that it’s so horrible, that it’s so bad -- yeah, it was! But guess what, we have each other to talk to, and we had a cat until you fucking killed it!”

Tommy: “Dream...Dream, and listen to this -- fucking engrave this on you, write this into your arms, Dream...You don’t have me. You’ll never have me. We don’t have each other, alright? I am me, and you are this fuckin’ loser who goes around manipulating people, lying to get what he wants. You are a fuckin’ no one, man, alright? And when I’m going to leave here, you’re not! You might have a favor -- you think, who is it, Technoblade’s gonna be able to come in here to let you out -- Technoblade, he doesn’t like governments, but he likes self gain! You think he wants to piss off the owner of the most POWERFUL building on the entire server, just so that he can get a video that BARELY scrapes the five million view mark -- NO, Dream, alright? You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you’re deluded, you’re delusional, and I fuckin’ hate you.”

Dream: “Okay...yeah, but I have something Techno would want, so...it means knowledge, alright?”

- Dream says that even when he’s in here, he’s more powerful than Tommy outside. Tommy replies that if he wanted to, he could kill Dream right now. The only reason he doesn’t is because they need the revive book.

- Dream says that he will never use the revive book to help Tommy or his friends. Ever.

Dream: “So kill me. Go ahead, come on.”

- When if Tubbo dies, Dream says, they’ll come begging for Tubbo to be revived, and Dream will ask to be let out.

- Tommy then says that this isn’t worse than exile, because in exile, Tommy thought Dream had all the power, and Tommy knows something...he thinks the revive book isn’t real. Jschlatt was just a drunk, why would he have this book?

Dream: “Jschlatt gave me the book -- why else would I switch to Jschlatt’s side?!”

...

“I’m not lying! Jschlatt gave me a revive book after...before he died....because...he said--” (he cuts off here)

- Dream asks why he would be lying about that.

Tommy: “You’re a liar! You’re a liar, and really, through your Netherite armor and skin, I look at you and you know what I see? I see a sad little man who’s insecure about the fact that this server has gotten so far ahead of him that his only little glimpse of power in this world is gone. And I see an insecure, sad little man. So fuck off. You stupid green lad.”

Dream: “Your life...is literally in my hands. Does that piss you off? Does that make you mad? Does that make you so mad that I -- if you kill me -- I MIGHT AS WELL BE A GOD, TOMMY! YOU CAN’T KILL ME, AND I CAN KILL YOU! So what does it mean, that you can’t kill me because of the revive book -- what does that mean? If you can’t kill me, does that make me some kind of god?”

Tommy: “No Dream. I could kill you right now. If I wanted to.”

Dream: “Okay. But you won’t. But you won’t! I could kill you if I wanted to! I could kill you right now, actually.”

...

Tommy: “I don’t think this revive book is real. Schlatt? He’s fuckin’ dead. I’ve seen his grave! His grave is real, his corpse is there!”

Dream: “Okay...Why don’t you go see him then?”

Tommy: “NO -- stop it stop it stop it st--”

--- ---

CANON DEATH: TOMMY

Cause: Punched to death

--- ---

End of stream.

---

- Tubbo, Ranboo and Jack see Tommy’s death message in game chat.

- They go to the prison and Sam is there to tell them what happened. Sam couldn’t get there in time. He didn’t think Dream would actually kill him. They’re all in shock.

- Tubbo and Ranboo think Tommy will be back. There’s no way he’s actually dead, right?

- Jack Manifold is in celebration. He got what he wanted! He thought Dream would want Tommy alive, and killing Tommy himself would be an extra jab in the chest for Dream, but apparently not? And now he has a hotel!

- He decides to check on Tubbo and makes sure he’s okay.

- Jack walks down to the shore and looks up at the prison, and...it hits him. He’s spent months plotting to kill Tommy. Jack realizes his victory feels hollow. Even now, Tommy and Dream have managed to take away this from him.

- Of Ze Haus, he says that this place no longer means anything to him. He gets a flint and steel and sets it alight, watching it burn.

- He passes by Tommy’s house and finds Ranboo planting red and white flowers outside.

- Jack switches into his L’manburg uniform and walks along the Prime Path.

Jack: “I remember the day I joined the server. The day after the first war. L’manburg was still a big hole, and we built it up. And Tommy invited me to join. And I betrayed him (laughs), so really this has all come full circle.”

“Maybe I was always really just upset because I always felt like he cared more about the discs than...anyone. And I guess I just enjoyed it when we were friends...and...I’ve not really had any friends...since...then, really. Never really wanted any.”

- Jack later speaks with Foolish and tells him that Tommy’s never coming back from prison. Foolish didn’t know him too well, but he’s still a bit sad. When anyone passes, it’s sad.

- Jack heads back out into the wilderness, wandering to the beach area at the edge of the forest where Quackity had his argument with Badboyhalo a while back. There’s something just beyond the hill.

- Quackity meets him there and escorts him back home, telling him he was heading too close to something, could have gotten “a nice view of it.”

- He’s been thinking of writing up a draft of their contract. He also sees the new McPuffy’s.

- Jack tells Quackity that Tommy’s not in the prison anymore. Quackity says they need to talk to him and make sure Jack keeps his hotel. As the rain pours, Jack tells him. Tommy didn’t make it.

- Quackity and Jack have a moment in front of Tommy’s house. Though upset, Quackity says it’s time to get back to work.

Quackity: “Jack...don’t let this affect business. The train doesn’t stop.”

Jack: “No, it only goes faster.”

- Jack also speaks with Antfrost. Antfrost gives his condolences, and says he’ll put together a celebration “of life.”

Ant: “Bad and Sam will be happy...to attend, of course!”

- Afterwards, Jack heads down into Karls nightclub and ends stream there.

- Connor speaks with Sam Nook at the hotel.

- Bad meets Ant at the Holy Land. Ant asks if the church would be a good place for a celebration. Ant sits Bad down to tell him. Bad is overjoyed.

- Bad says that now, they don’t even have to do any preparations:

They can move into the Final Stage.

- They get milk for the cake and decide to throw the party at Tommy’s house!

- They meet with Sam at the prison entrance. He sounds dejected.

Sam: “I didn’t think Dream would ever actually...try and kill him”

Bad: (laughs) “Is this the same Dream we’re talking about? It’s Dream, Sam.”

Sam: “I mean...Dream had...I thought I had...broken the will out of him, to do something like that. But he...he did.”

- He says they need to find out what it was -- he wandered around the prison several times and couldn’t find any sign that someone had done something.

- Ant and Bad try to reassure Sam that Tommy signed the waivers, he went to see Dream, and Sam shouldn’t blame himself. Sam doesn’t see it that way.

- They say they’ll talk to Sam later and leave the prison. They see Sam Nook at the hotel. Sam is excited about the new upgrades for the hotel! Tommy will be so excited to see them!

- They return to Tommy’s house and speak with Punz as they make a party floor and sing the Crab Rave song in dudududus.

- Meanwhile, Captain Puffy is grieving, feeling like she failed Tommy. As she logs on, Bad and Ant decide that Puffy might want to join them for the party!

- Punz meets them there, and they tell him that Tommy’s dead. Punz isn’t sure how he feels, it’s bittersweet.

- Puffy arrives and angrily tells them to leave. What’s wrong with them?!

- The Eggpire sees Sam Nook at the hotel and goes up the floors to find a place to party. Puffy comes up and tells them to find another place to party. They argue again.

- Foolish arrives to visit his room in the hotel. Puffy leaves them. They quarrel about who has the room for the night.

- Puffy mines down the Eggpire’s meeting room. She’s noticed that being a hero hasn’t worked. Sparing people, being merciful, it hasn’t worked. She might need a change of perspective.

- The Eggpire decides to visit the Egg and break the news to it. They see the wreckage, but Puffy is in the Nether by the time they get there.

- Puffy visits Logsted.

- The Eggpire goes down to the Egg Room and finds the pathway blocked up with obsidian...is this why the Vines have been slower to grow lately?

- They break the barrier and find the Egg drenched in water. They wake up the Egg and it speaks.

“This world is mine. It belongs to me.”

“No no no, I know, but we’ve got something to tell you!”

“I see all...I...am...all...”

“Oh so you--”

“I know all.”

“You know then! Guess -- well, we’ll tell you anyway in case you don’t know -- but guess what? Tommy’s dead! Dream -- the green guy, you met him -- killed him in the prison! I guess Tommy got stuck there, and Dream killed him! Are you happy?"

“Feed me...I require nourishment.”

“No no no, don’t worry -- that’s coming soon! We’ll take care of that! We’re already gonna begin the preparations, right guys? Yeah, we’re gonna begin the preparations, and we’ll send out the invitations, we’ll let everyone know...and the final stage can commence! This is wonderful!”

- Once on the surface, Bad announces that with a little more preparation, they’ll all get exactly what they want. The final stage is about to commence.

The day of celebrations, the day they’ve been preparing for, the day the Egg has been preparing for, is about to happen...

- Bad goes down to the Egg Room one last time and stands at the Egg to give a final speech.

“Everything leading up to this point, EVERYTHING, all the way going back to the discovery of this...beautiful, luxurious Egg, okay...we had it all planned. As soon as we found it, we knew what was gonna happen. We knew the objective...”

“We may have forgotten what it was, forgotten the ultimate goal as soon as we boxed the Egg up in obsidian. But guess what -- that didn’t stop the Egg! Boxing it up only made it STRONGER, and LARGER, and more powerful! And the Egg’s been storing up that energy, okay? You may have been thinking the Vines have not been spreading...but that’s because we haven’t WANTED them to spread. We have been working, storing energy, storing power...in preparation for the final plan. The final objective. And there were only a couple people getting in the way. But guess what? One of the biggest obstacles -- Tommy -- is no longer in the way...now that he’s not in the way, we can commence with the final stage...the final party...before it all comes to a conclusion...”

“Brace yourselves...everybody on this server, prepare. Anyone who is anti-Egg...you guys better get ready, because we know who you are. And at the end of the day, the Egg is gonna be victorious. And there’s nothing ANYBODY can do to stop it.”

“Good luck.”

#dream smp #long posts #dream smp recaps #prison arc #i apologize for not including a lot of puffy's stream :(#it's really late and this post's a mile long as is #if you see any typos no you don't /lh

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