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beneathsakurashade · 1 year ago

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why did my favorite game turn into a dating sim? twst x gen reader (crack fic) CH: 2 me. u. church. in wedding outfits. rn

CH: 1

The two of you sit across from each other on opposite sofas. Enjoying a pleasant late afternoon meal of tea and various cakes, it felt like a scene from a fluffy fanfic. “Man, I remember one time I had a birthday party at a cafe or something and we got served lemonade and cookies” you smile, serving yourself another small cake. “Lemonade and cookies? I haven’t heard about that before, processed sweets and drinks are forbidden in my household” Riddle remarks taking a small sip of tea. “Damn, that’s crazy, is that why your fave food is strawberry tarts?” You reply. “Yes, the tarts that Trey makes are my exception to that rule. In fact, Trey bakes all of the desserts for our dorm.” he explains.

“Wait Trey makes these? Like ALL of them? Dang, bro’s a great baker, I’m banned from the kitchen in my household for some reason” you say “Banned from the kitchen? H-how did that happen?” He sighs nervously and you shrug in response “I think it was because of that one time I microwaved a mozzarella stick for like a minute and almost burned down the house. Or that time I gave my family food poisoning the first time I cooked dinner. Wait maybe it was that time I cooked a pizza and it fell down to the bottom of the oven from the rack and we had to buy a new oven… Dunno, tbh they're prob just being haters”. Riddle chokes on his tea and coughs “Uh-I-I see…I suppose then I’ll have to be the one cooking in the relationship”.

“Speaking of this relationship, am I gonna take your last name for a month? Or are you gonna take mine?” You ask “I thought about this, and while I would like to keep my name. I don’t mind taking yours, it is only a month after all”. “Hmmm, Y/N Rosehearts or Riddle L/N…” you sigh “Quite the conundrum” “Indeed…” The door is flung open by two students who you recognize as Ace and Deuce. You jump in surprise and drop the cookie that you were holding. “Housewarden Riddle! Is it true that you’re gonna get married?” Ace exclaims and Riddle stiffens “Y-yes that’s correct, but only temporarily! A month at most”. You pout and pick up the fallen cookie “Rip soldier” you mutter and turn to the two “What have you to say for killing my cookie?” Deuce bows “Our deepest apologies!” Ace groans “No need to be all proper Deuce, its not like they’re a celebrity or something” he smiles “The names Ace Trappola, and this here -he points to Deuce- is Deuce Spade”. You sigh “Erm actually, I have three hundred and sixty seven followers on hoyolab, so yes, I am a celebrity. Also I know, Riddle complained about how you’re among the worst students that he’s seen in all his twenty years. Btw I’m Y/N L/N, professional failure and yapper, with rizz”. “I feel bad for ya’ to be honest. With all the rules here n’ stuff” Ace sighs and sits down beside Riddle on the couch, much to the other’s chagrin. You shrug in response “I know, but that’s the price you pay for love I suppose. I don’t mind it if I can be married to my husband here for a month”. Riddle turns red and Ace laughs “We better get used to seeing a strawberry red housewarden Deuce!” Deuce responds confused “Okay!” You smile “You two are silly, I like it, but stop harassing my pookie”. Riddle turns an even darker shade of red if that was possible and collars Ace. Deuce watches on in confusion, unsure of whether to defend his friend or his Housewarden. You liked Ace, he reminded you of a childhood friend that you had back home, though said friend always pretended not to know you at school for whatever reason. That’s probably what drew you to his character in Twisted Wonderland. Deuce reminded you of yourself, though not the whole middle school gangster thing, your mom would kill you if she ever found out that you used to ditch school and joined a gang. But the whole working hard and it never being enough, nothing ever sticking in your head no matter how many times it was drilled into you, staying up till ungodly hours in the night to get a good grade to impress her.

The two of you, yourself and Riddle, head back to his room. “Did we miss a few chapters?” You tease and Riddle turns to you confused. “Pardon?” You sigh “Of course you wouldn’t get it…” he still looks confused while opening the door “Guests first” he smiles and you walk in. “Woooah, aw man, there’s only two beds” you mutter “Is there something wrong?” Riddle inquires. “Nah, just a fanfic reference, iykyk” you shrug and sit down on the twin bed near the wall. “Fanfic?” “Yea, y’know, fanfiction?” You lie down on your back and turn your head to face him. “Fanfiction? Oh, Cater mentioned something about that…” he nods and sits down on his bed “Is your bed comfortable, Mx. Y/N?”. “Its nice, but it would be better if you were here with me” you sigh dramatically. To which he blushes and sighs in mock annoyance “Y-you’re certainly quick to act like a married couple Mx. Y/N”. You turn and set your chin on your palm “Call me Y/N, we’re more than a married couple less than lovers correct?” He sighs softly “I suppose that’s a rather accurate description, forgive me for acting incorrectly at all during our time together. This is the biggest thing that I’ve done without Mother’s permission…besides that one time I got fast food with Cater”. The teasing look vanishes from your face “Your mom doesn’t let you get fast food??” You gape. “She considers it extremely unhealthy, saying that fast food is the beginning to a short and poor life.” You blink and finally say “So…she’s an almond mom?” He looks down “Cater said something like that once…I researched the topic and it isn’t an incorrect description of my mother. But she’s a good woman! She is a doctor so she knows all about what she is talking about! Mother wouldn’t lie to me…she wouldn’t…”. You sense the saddening gloom that's starting to settle in the room. Riddle's mom was a sore subject for him, most of the fandom, (his stans especially) absofuckinglutely hated her guts, you couldn't blame them though, she was a real daughter of a nice lady... “Welp, usually I’d say listen to your parents. But I have an idea, how about we go to a fast food place for our first date as a couple? You guys probably have a McDonald’s or something like it here right?”. He brightens up at your enthusiasm “Are you sure about that? Aren’t first dates usually more classy?”. You respond smugly “That’s what the tv shows say, but my broke ass says otherwise! Don’t worry pookie, I’ll make our first date the best that you’ve ever seen!”

AN: hiii everyone its me, also random thing but I remember the time I was reading a twst fic on wattpad and there was a comment that I found so goofy and what made it extra memorable for me was that the user of the commenter was theevilfoodeaterbanica or something like that and it made my Evillious Chronicles fangirl heart happy. Anyways hope you all are doing great! (つ≧▽≦)つ⊂(｡･ω･｡⊂)

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst #fanfic #robbedofeggsaladwriting #twisted wonderland #crack fic #goofy ahh fic that i wrote at 3am

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chibi-celesti · 1 year ago

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Phase 02-Book 01: Dia Rosa Rudje (pt. 5)

Previously: The student before them was beautiful, though rightfully pissed…

Like a predator to his prey, he leaned forward to Meryu’s face. “How do you plan to pay me back, Herbivore?”

…

“I’M SORRY!!”

~Twisted Tonelico~

“Huh?” This was an unexpected response. Usually he either gets pushed back til the brat gets his teeth broken, or they whimper and admit defeat, and also lose a couple of teeth. But this? This was not what he normally got.

She kept her head bowed, embarrassed for hurting someone by accident. “Oi! What are you doin’, Minion!?!?” Grim panicked. Not like the position he they're in.

“I didn't mean to step on your tail, sir! I swear!” She righted herself back up, not caring for the whiplash she’s feeling. “Your tail isn't broken is it?!”

The older boy in front of her kept staring at her in confusion before deciding to mess with her some more. “Sadly, you did. I can barely feel it anymore.” He smirked at her “How do you plan to fix this?”

The Reyvateil got more flustered. Oh no! I hurt him! If Mr. Crowley caught wind of this, I’ll never hear the end of it! “L-l-let me fix it please!”

The stranger complied, lifting his tail in feint pain, and letting her hold it in her hands. ‘They're dead meat if they-’

~Was zweie ra enegd corpu hyzik yor. Ieeya cremia afezeria tes yor, sor wearequewie.~

Out of the blue, a stuffed lambie in a tutu holding a small bell appeared above them. With her small arms, the lamb shook the bell vigorously, causing green sparkles to fall on the boy and his tail. Still in shock, the senior said nothing, but Grim on the other hand… “First a Rose, now a Lamb thingy?! What’s with your songs being so weird?!”

The spell ended with the lamb hugging the boy before vanishing, leaving silence in her wake.

The stranger stared at Meryu, putting two and two together regarding the person in front of him. “So… you’re the Herbivore from that night? Little Miss Nightingale.”

Meryu looked at him. “Nightingale?”

She didn't have much time to think of the odd name as another voice cut through their talk. “Leona-san!”

Said boy growled in annoyance again before sighing. “Over here, Ruggie.”

Another boy appeared from the garden and made his way to the trio. His hair was a shaggy, sandy color with two hyena ears almost blending into his head. And his eyes were as blue as the daytime sky. He also wore the same color band and vest, but his uniform attire looked very baggy on him compared to his classmate.

The shaggy blonde-Ruggie- looked between Leona and Meryu before laughing. “Am I interrupting something, Leona-san?”

“Yes and no.”

“Too bad. You have a supplementary class to make up. If you fail again, you and I are gonna be in the same grade next year.”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard ya.” He removes his tail from Meryu’s grasp before walking away with Ruggie. He glances back to the girl and Grim one last time. “Next time, watch where you walk, Nightingale. Not everyone is forgiving of stuff like that.”

She nods in understanding.

“Bye, Melenas-san.” Ruggie waves to her before dragging his senior out of the Greenhouse. What an odd man… And why would he call me Nightingale?

A dramatic sigh from Grim breaks her musings. “I thought we were goners~. Watch where you’re going next time!”

“It was an accident,” she pouted.

They soon heard the heart and spade duo called for them from behind, changing the topic and reminded them of what they initially came there for. Right, the Mont Blanc!

Meryu ran to meet with the boys and together they left for the forest and chestnuts once more.

~Night Raven: School Kitchen~

With the help of the Greenhouse equipment, the First Years succeeded in gathering as many chestnuts as they needed for the tart. They brought their spoils back to Trey, and where they can start their first major tasks: breaking open the chestnuts!

For Clover, Spade and Grim, it was easy since they used magic to break them with ease. Trappola and Melenas on the other hand…were not so lucky. They broke them manually which was more taxing than they thought. The Reyvateil and Ace managed to work out a rhythm to cracking the chestnuts open, but of course not without a few complaints from the latter.

“Who knew cracking these things was so difficult! Wish I had my magic back.”

The girl tried patting him on the back. “It’s not so bad. Besides, we're just about finished with the last of them.”

“True. By the way, is what Grim said true? You sang to someone in the Greenhouse?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It was a small healing spell, nothing more.”

“...Lucky bastard.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.” He stretched his arms, relieved the hardest part of the prep was over. “Ok, Trey-senpai. What’s next?”

“Next step is simple. We just need to mix together the peeled chestnuts with the milk and eggs- Shoot!” Trey shouted.

Deuce and Meryu rushed to Trey’s side. “What’s wrong, senpai?!”

Trey shook his head in dread .“We’re out of milk and eggs. We need more for the tart.” He looked to his juniors. “Would I trouble you two to go to the school store and get more?”

“Yes!/ Of course, Mr. Clover.”

Trey stepped away, making his list for the ingredients missing and other items he may need. Once he was finished, he gave the list to Deuce and Meryu, along with a couple madol to pay for the items.

“We’ll be back with the supplies, and Grim please don’t eat any of the ingredients!”

“Nyah! I wasn’t gonna!”

~Night Raven: Mr. S’ Mystery Shop~

“Wow…/ Whoa!” The duo were blown away by the school store. On the outside, it gave off an appearance of a humble traveler hub-like building one would pass by for small items and leave. But from the inside, it was something beyond either of their imaginations.

Countless items from all across the globe were hanging around the store, from crystal balls to intricate masks from many, unique cultures. At the front cashier desk stood a man in an interesting plum suit with a bright purple vest underneath. His outfit is adorned with skeletal designs, from the buttons to his top hat. His magenta gaze bore directly at his new visitors, and, as if he were a showman, he introduced himself to them.

“Hello there, my little imps~! Welcome to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop!”

This caught the pair off guard for a moment before Deuce asked his question. “We came to purchase some things.” he gave Sam his list. “We’re hoping you would have these.”

Mr. S(aka, “Mr. Sam”) took note of all the items on the list and with a swift bow spoke to the duo. “Sit back and relax. I’m gonna go get everything you need in the back!”

Soon, he left for the back of the store, leaving Meryu and Deuce to see the supplies sold at the school store. “Cauldrons, pens and inkwells, crystal balls. This place has everything!” Deuce exclaimed, mesmerized. All the Reyvateil could do was nod in agreement.

I wonder if Lady Shurelia would love shopping here? Maybe Mr. Lyner would like shopping here, too?

They also didn’t seem to wait long for the shop owner to return, as he arrived with bags of the exact groceries and other items Trey requested! “Here you go, little lovebirds~~! All of your much needed necessities!”

“EEEEHHH?!”

“I’m just kidding, little imps! By the way, are either of you interested in magical saucers? They’re fitting for any special occasions, and in stock now!”

“O-ooh. Um, thank you, sir. But we’re fine for now.”

Meyru bowed, thanking the shopkeeper as well. “Thank you, again, for helping us.”

~Night Raven: Main Street~

With supplies in hand, the two made their way back to the school kitchen. Deuce carried a bulk of the bags, leaving Meryu to carry one. “Mr. Deuce, are you sure you carry most of those bags by yourself? I’m more than happy to take some off your hands.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but it’s ok. I used to do this kind of stuff for my mom back home?”

This surprised the girl. “Really? She must be very proud to have a helpful son like you.”

“U-uu-uh. Th-thank you, Melenas-san,” He cleared his throat, hoping to clear away the blush on his face. “Also, you don’t have to keep calling me Mr. Deuce or Mr. Spade. Just Deuce is fine.”

“You sure?” he nods. “Ok. I apologize for the formalities. It was something I was taught to do whenever I meet someone growing up.”

“I figured as much.” They laughed together, enjoying their time before meeting the others. Unaware of a pair of students walking on Main Street, and towards their direction.

“Also, Melenas-san, I-?”

Someone bumped into Deuce-

*crack!*

-causing his hands to slip and drop the bag full of eggs.

“Whoops. My bad.” And then they laughed.

Meryu gasped. “You guys again?!” She and Deuce were confronted by some Night Raven students. And these boys were the same troublemakers from lunch!

Deuce was shocked, too, but quickly got on the defensive. “Hey! Why are you jerks here?!”

“I’m offended. I was just minding my business when you walked into me.”

Meryu was livid. “ That's not true and you know it! No thanks to you two, our eggs are broken!”

“Oh boo-hoo!” one of the other boys fake cried. “You can still use them! Ain’t our fault your boyfriend here bumped into my pal, bitch!” The delinquents laughed, apathetic of their actions. And that was enough to upset Deuce.

“...take that back.”

“Huh?”

The spade was angry-no- extremely ticked off. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK, RIGHT NOW! YOU DICKHEADS HAVE A LOTTA NERVE TO SLANDER A GIRL!!” He cracked his knuckles, his demeanor a massive one-eighty from earlier.

‘Like at the mines…’ Meryu wasn’t sure to be amazed or scared.

“I was gonna let you guys go nicely after breaking the eggs and the little chicks they used to be. But for you to call Melenas-san ‘Bitch!’? I AIN’T LETTING THAT SHIT SLIDE!!!” Deuce smirked. “IF YOU AIN’T GONNA APOLOGIZE, I’LL MAKE YOU APOLGIZE!!”

~Phase 02-Book 01: Dia Rose Rudje- Tes Biron~

Hymmnos Rough Translation:

*Was zweie ra enegd corpu hyzik yor.: I wish to remove the pain from your body.

**Ieeya cremia afezeria tes yor, sor wearequewie: May my blessing heal you, that is what I wish for.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ar tonelico #twst x ar tonelico au #twisted tonelico #deuce spade #ace trappola #trey clover #cater diamond #leona kingscholar

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here-have-some-stories · 1 year ago

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Silent Laughter Chap 4

I got no sleep that night. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to risk the thing coming back. To keep me awake I kept my light on and paced around my room. Eventually I walked over to my speaker and connected my music to it, turning the volume all the way up. It seemed almost impossible to fall asleep with bright lights, movement and Metallica’s Whiplash playing at max volume.

I was spinning around my room when a knock on the door startled me and made me fall to the floor. Slowly I stood up. I knew getting out of my room would be a terrible idea to check the door, for all I knew the creature could be on the other side of it. But even with those thoughts in my head, I still left my room and headed towards the knocking. I took a quick detour into the kitchen first and grabbed one of the knives, the sharpest looking one there was.

I crouched down low on the floor so the thing didn’t have much of a chance of seeing me through the windows and started crawling towards the door. When I got to it I slowly stood up, placed my left hand on the door knob, and got the knife ready in my right hand. I positioned myself at the door so when I swung it open, I could move out of the way and out of view of the frame and whoever or whatever was standing there. I started mentally counting down from three, preparing myself to open the door.

Three, two, one…

I twisted the door handle, and swung the door open, quickly moving out of the view of what was standing there. After a tense minute of waiting, I realised that nothing had happened. I slowly moved my hand holding the knife into view of the doorway, a small threat to what was standing there. I moved my hand away and lowered down into a crouch, then slowly and cautiously poked my head behind the frame to see. No one was there. I stood up, knife still in hand, and looked out the door without leaving the house, just like they did in the movies.

I closed the door and went back into the lounge. I sat down on the couch and ran my hands through my hair, exhausted and confused. I didn’t know if I should find help or not. What would anybody be able to do anyway? They most likely wouldn’t believe me.

I held my head in my hands, thinking for solutions but not being able to come up with anything. I leaned back on the couch and focused my eyes on the TV, which was black and turned off. And thank God it was like that otherwise I may not have been able to see it. In the reflection of the TV, I could see something standing behind the couch, and behind me. I couldn’t see it properly but it was tall and pale, not wearing any clothes, but not needing to anyway. I couldn’t see its face because the reflection in the TV was blurry. I didn’t want to turn around, but I felt like l needed to. So I did.

The creature was indeed tall, and very pale. It had long arms, so long that they dragged across the floor. The hands weren’t really hands, but more pointed sharp spade things. Sharp spade things, that when the tip was banging against the window, could probably make a crack. It had no hair, no ears, no eyes, no nose, and for once no mouth. Yet I could tell it was grinning at me, like it had won. I had no idea how it had gotten inside. But then I remembered, this thing could turn into ribbons, just by ripping its head back and laughing silently. It must have done that, and slithered past me, unnoticed, when I was looking at the door.

The creature’s arm started to come up, and its pointy spade arm seemed to point behind me. I was tired of having things suddenly appear behind me. It wasn’t fun, it was terrifying. But the creature must have found it fun because a small smile did start forming on its face, except it was more like a small cut getting ripped wider and wider.

I turned around, preparing myself for what horror would be there, and saw a noose, just hanging from the ceiling. The creature clumsily walked around the couch towards it, arms dragging on the ground. It went behind it and mockingly put its head through its, smile getting bigger, as it tugged its neck down on the rope pretending to choke itself. It was obvious that the thing was taunting me, that it wanted me to do the same thing.

I started to back away from it, and the smile instantly dropped into a long droopy frown, which was somehow more terrifying than the smile. Maybe because I knew I had displeased it, by not going along with its plans and games. It didn’t want me to walk away, so I realised I couldn’t walk away. But I had to try anyway. I turned around suddenly and ran, opening the door and slamming it shut again, running down the street. I had to get away from it, from the house, and that stupid rope hanging from the ceiling. I didn’t want to turn out like my mother. If I was going to die, I wanted it to be on my own terms.

I turned down a street that I had never seen before and quickly realised that I had just made a huge mistake. It was a dead end. I heard the sound of something dragging across the ground and turned around. At first there was nothing, but then the creature slowly and casually appeared from around the corner, and started walking towards me. It was teasing me, I realised. It could have easily turned itself into skin ribbons again and just slid towards me really fast but it didn’t. It was going slowly, taking its time. It knew I couldn’t get away or go anywhere so it didn’t bother to chase. It was savouring this moment.

The smile started appearing on its face again, realising that it had caught me. It’s mouth opened up wide, head splitting backwards, still walking closer and closer. When it got to me, it put its head back in place, still smiling that creepy, disturbing smile. I’m not sure what it was going to do with me. But I knew for a fact that I wasn’t going to like it. Its arms started to drag upwards, looking like it took the creature a bit of effort to move. They slithered up me, up my legs, past my torso, until they were cupped around my face. Then slowly, centimetre by centimetre, the points of the spade like hands started to edge closer to my eyes, and I knew what was going to happen. There was no point screaming. It wouldn’t change anything. It might even make the creature move faster, get it over with before someone could come. I could feel the points pricking into the skin around my eyes. I realised with dread that even though I had run, I was still about to end up like my mother. It was inevitable.

Next Chapter ->

Please review and give feedback and suggestions on what you think will happen in the story. I've stopped actually writing it for a little while to plan out what's going to happen in it, but I'm stuck for ideas. I know the ending, but that's about it. Anyway hoped you enjoyed it if you actually read it even though at this point no one actually does. :)

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spxcenotic · 1 year ago

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MY GANGSTER BOYS

more abt them under the break🥹

Caden (R): Gangster, Antiquarian

When they are in public, Caden takes the lead. He makes sure Spade is close to him (not that he has much a choice, anyway… he’s practically attached to the hip.) Caden is kind of like his model of how to act in public and what to do, etc.

Caden is Spade’s safe space. He’s always seen with Caden, especially in New York’s busy streets, Caden will take Spade’s hand and walk together through the streets. Crosswalks and road rules confuse him.

Caden notices everything: Every tic, every expression, every little blush that spreads across Spade’s face.

Spade (L): Gangster, Illusionist

-> Spade was written by an actual autistic person !! pls don't start stuff in the replies <3

Spade has autism and struggles with coordination and motor skills. He can’t tell where his body ends and the other person’s body begins and spaces between, so he is always bumping into people, coming off as rude, building into his ‘mean’ persona.

His coordination issues also are with eating. He often makes a mess when he eats, and doesn’t really know how to put his mouth around the utensils/cups correctly. His solution is to starve until he is alone.. He only eats in private, he will always eat in his room or alone in the kitchen. If someone comes into the kitchen while he is eating, he stops until they leave.

He covers his mouth when he eats in public or when he speaks, and when he sleeps or anything, he likes to cover his mouth with his sleeve or blanket because he doesn’t know what to do with his face.

He blushes VERY quickly.

Magic tricks are perfect for his brain to manage steps and for his hands to follow them. The steps and process make more sense for him.

He won’t speak to you unless you speak first, and even then, his words are short, which also comes off as rude, but he just does not have anything to say and can’t think of small talk, it stresses him out.

Little Things<3

If Spade is there, then Caden isn’t far away, and vice versa. They’re like a double threat. You don’t wanna mess with Spade, cause then you’ll have to deal with Caden, vice versa. They're a powerful duo.

Caden playfully teaches Spade how to confidently use spoons and forks in the mirror. Caden is guiding Spade's hands, they're both giggling.

Spade can’t walk straight. When walking together, Caden often has to pull Spade back to him by his arm.

When Spade and Caden go out to eat, Caden packs home utensils for Spade to use to feel more comfortable at restaurants.

They wear matching rings on necklaces.

Caden sent Spade on a grocery trip, and it was the worst thing ever. Spade was confused, he didn't know how to maneuver a cart, he didn't know what to get, even with the list Caden gave him. He forgets which brand to get if it's not specifically stated (Caden learned this, and now writes the brand, item, and aisle on the shopping list). He freaked out when there was people in the aisles so he waited or went the long way, he was clumsy with the cart and was shaken at self checkout. When he got home, he was drained and tired and took a nap on the floor😭.

#art #digital art #oc art #character art #idv oc #identity v oc

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morphologique · 2 years ago

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seen - in the distorted rendering fog - four tea trees - hissed brucE

exclaiming profusely - helmet_buckled - once though T-Block Sergeant chuckled - gleaming synthesis - left e - undiscovered, wispy rapscallions stintees cuddleD - skull-drilled - once flood killed - all the squirming worms - eagle had to offeR

Ajax John’s is waning - pouring money - from the kitchen - she illumines - the mist_haven night sky - all the while - sick dandelion - get their rich - iN

object since - wives pending - are bee’s second first minus twenty three - inversions have since - too still vinced - says genders are suspending up - nice - huckle berry flea

to make the cents - atm_converter connected - koin/cobweb path strung - simply projects now suspected - long awaited innovation - had now beguN dear Capt’n Domineer - raiding in support - vol. 4 - of “The Superior Thought” - done - so much taught - that you writing - didn’t expect you - the sorT

somewhere? knot_hair - kaleidoscopic paralysis shiver - infused fruit - ice_pick_rain - all leading in a group - all along the riveR

System_addict - system’s attic - systematic hipsters

Stone_cold - baron’s “baton_told” - toll climbed - as heard when taking in lip sticked trickers

was we always trees - rico,II no - “misspelt know as n-o -

paraplegic apostrophe, a downbeat ex pro used to do amazingly @ corn-hole -

two eyes typed too - mischievous tom is fooled - keep cool yo bro -nearing regional the floW

Rico knew - an actor,s spew -

the fhaled x-prow - speaks of possibs - shrewd

boycotted L’s - shoved pity- flew - four e’s did us ponies grew - no? - wasn’t due - to then reveal it was indeed truE

an eels worst fear - was punished published? - without a mouth to feed - accompanied rubbisH

snake fed fish - looked like - man Craddy - “Fimbles” a remembered highschool graddy - killS

Back to the current - add sum subs - danced - quite figuratively demon shark - hell bent - figure sixes stamped - almost ritualised - rituallY

closer for sure, trees grinned glee - certainty_forced

In an imperceptible way - ve’course - tea - Pawnee kill boarS.

Hip-hooray! The apostrophe’s big parade, you’ve been played by twelfth pay grade, “level spade”.

#the staple singers #cookie run #yacht charter #southern gothic #clue 1985

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alpha-kid-au · 2 years ago

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Chapter six, training, And pizza.

The mountaintops of Williams dimension are still drenched in the light of the full moon, as the sounds of battle echo through the valleys, as William is training G in the ways of combat

G strikes down at William, but he jumps out of the way. And as G lands, William kicks him into another mountain.

G got out of the wall and jumped back at him, bouncing from mountain to mountain.

He fired bones at him, which he dodged, but while he was distracted, G swung at him with the strings, so he jumped as G was about to hit him, and then he kicked him into the ground.

As William pulled G out of the ground he said "wow, you're doing a lot better than the first day we'd trained." As he dusted off G, and made sure he didn't hurt him

"Ugh, it just still seems so hopeless to defeat you though" G spoke annoyedly, as he stretched.

"Remember, the goal isn't meant to be "defeat me", it's meant to be improvement, which you have in spades." William said as he dusted himself off.

"I know but… it doesn't feel that way" G said, sitting down, as he got ready to eat his lunch

"Oh, you hungry?" William said as he sat down too.

"Yeah, it's just been a lot," G replied.

"Hey, would you wanna eat at my palace?" William suggested, putting his hand on G's shoulder. "I don't cook much but well, I can, if you don't expect anything magnificent."

"Are you sure?" G asked as William got up and said "of course! I mean I've been teaching you after all, gotta make sure you're not hungry. Come on, let's go." As G got up, and said "sure."

They both flew over on Williams' horned blaster, over the hills as they came to the large castle, weaving in and out of the mountain, some rooms visible, some not.

As they entered the hallway through the columns, they went down the hall, and after entering a smaller chamber, they went to the right leading to a hall with a large table. It seems to be dusty from lacking use, however.

"Whoa! How did I never know about this room before? Your place is massive!" G spoke into the echoing halls of the dining room.

"Y-yeah… I don't use most of it often" William said, grabbing his arm, as he continued down to the kitchen.

"You can do whatever you want, I'll try to make an actual meal, I'm used to just making cookies." He continued as he walked to the kitchen.

"Well I don't have much to do, I could help you make food." G suggested.

"Huh? Well what do you know how to cook?" William asked, as G perked up

"I can make pizza! Hunter and Nightmare taught me." As he walked over.

"Well I don't have those ingredients… Give me a sec." William said, disappearing into the warpspace.

After about five minutes he comes back with all of the ingredients he would need.

"Alright, let's make pizza I guess." He said as he smiled lightly.

As they headed into the kitchen, G saw a rather normal sized kitchen, as surprising as it is with the size of everything else, you would expect a kitchen the size of a restaurant's, however it isn't.

"This is my kitchen. We should get started! We'll need mixing bowls right?" William said as he used telekinesis to grab multiple bowls, cutting boards and a baking sheet, alongside a rolling pin and any other things they would need.

"Woah! That telekinesis is cool, can I learn that?" G asked, as William laughed,

"Well, probably. My control of telekinesis is far greater than even others with my same power, so it is unpredictable how good you could be with it." He responded.

"What do we do now?" He asked, as they made lunch.

Once they finished making food, they sat down, and ate.

"It would appear we have both learned something today,l." William said as he giggled and ate

"Yeah… I guess so" G said as they ate.

- later -

They're training again on the mountains, G threw bones, and fired blasters, to no avail.

So he summoned dozens of bones behind him, attached them to strings, flinging them at William, and as he was about to dodge, G surrounded the area with blasters, trapping him.

And as all the bones landed, he celebrated, "YES! I did it!" As William responded,

"Well, it could use some work, but I might be able to start using magic soon" he winked as he got up from the ground.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today bud, you can go home." William spoke, smiling.

As G said his goodbyes and went off to his home, William sat in-between the columns of the hall, as he somberly stared out into the infinite expanse.

#lmk au #undertale au #undertale #alpha kid #story #alpha kid chapter six #glitch sans #error 404 sans #alpha kid book one

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fanfictiondreamscape · 3 years ago

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When He Raises His Hand to You

Request: Hi, um this is my first time requesting, I would like for U if you could, do Sebastian, Claude, undertaker, and maybe Ciel, how they got into an argument, and the guy ends up raising their hand and might look like they might slap them because they were mad, their beloved is feared of them for a while or in that moment? uh, the them I suppose is angst with some comfort at the end, I've had a rough day, so I need depression with comfort, If U don't want to do this, I totally respect your wishes.

Title: When He Raises His Hand to You

Genre: mostly angst, little sliver of comfort at the end of each character portion

Pairing: Sebastian Michealis/Ciel Phantomhive/Undertaker X GN!Reader (separate)

Notes: Hey! I'm so sorry about this, but I don't write for Claude, so I stuck to the other three that were requested. Otherwise, I also decided to roll with headcanons for the format - the short descriptions would help the reader interpret the written in a way more similar to their situation, I think.

That said, I will warn any reader now: this does deal with traumatic events such as previous abuse and intense anxiety. If either of those makes you uncomfortable or is a trigger for you, I recommend reading something else. If you decided to read, please do so with caution.

Either way, I hope all readers enjoy it - and that it can possibly make your days better.

Below the cut!

Sebastian Michaelis

on a normal day, he’s gonna be cool as a cucumber

seriously

it would have to be an absolutely A W F U L day for him to even raise his voice at you, much less his hand

but today was one of the aforementioned days about ten times over

you had dropped by the Phantomhive manor to aid your family

your initial time spent with him was limited

you had to crack down and get to business with ciel

seriously, the two of you were notorious for being thrown together to solve cases

but that wasn’t what bothered sebastian

he was normally able to handle you working

but it just seemed like everyone was trying to get on his nerves today

mey-rin broke a good portion of the manor china, managed to flood the laundering area, and was seemingly even more inept at cleaning

finnian poisoned a large portion of the garden and seasonal flowers with one go, proceeded to call for sebastian to fix it, and then destroyed not only another portion of the garden but also the shed in which they kept all of the required tools needed

and bardroy burnt the kitchen. again. for the fifth time today.

this isn’t even accounting for the multitude of times in which grell came by to crash the manor and their endeavors to uncover any evidence

bringing along the other reapers

and the times that day in which they had completed work to present to you with the undertaker in which sebastian needed to attempt multiple times to get him to laugh

it was, overall, a stressful day

and he really wanted to relax with you

given ciel’s discretion, of course, but he knew you were a reasonable person and patience was something that you had in spades when it came to sebastian and his work

he would be able to do that later that night, though

you specifically requested have sebastian stay with you once the busyness at the manor slowed

and, after a few hours that felt like a good few weeks to sebastian passed, you were able to

you were trying to relax by candlelight and admire the images that were present on the walls surrounding you

sebastian was trying to put ciel to bed and make sure that the rest of the servants were asleep

“young master, is there anything else you require of me before you rest for the night?”

“i think that will be all, sebastian. possibly if you could review any documents that may need reviewing with y/n, though. that would be great.”

“or course, young master. rest well.”

he met up with you not long after putting ciel to bed, and as you were roaming, he was trying to remain calm.

this never usually happened.

he usually had everything under control.

he usually had his head upright and logic straight.

but tonight, for once, he wanted to - needed to - relax

sadly, while he couldn’t really relax, he at least was with you

well, he thought he was

until you caught wind of an event occurring in your own manor

and you were reccommended to leave within the coming few hours

that was the last straw for sebastian.

“darling, i normally attempt to allow you to attend to your own events and needs, but i only wish to request that you stay here for the moment.”

“sebastian, i’m quite sorry, but this is important. i must attend to it quickly. i promise you that it won’t take long, not in the slightest.”

“darling, if i may-”

“sebastian, i’m so, terribly, sorry-”

“darling-”

“i must be on my way-”

“no. it was said that you could leave come the morning.”

“i’m quite worried, though-”

“darling, i must ask you to stay calm and relax here for the night.”

“but business calls-”

“ignore it. i’ve had quite the stressful day, and all i request is that i do not be denied time spent alone with the one human i can tolerate.”

he only slightly raised his voice then, yet you were still chilled.

not enough to back down, though

“sebastian, please-”

“y/n, dear. you are staying here for the night.”

“no, i must go-”

you stood up, rushing to reach your room for the night

sebastian regarded your leave, grabbing your arm

“please, sebastian-”

“no, darling-”

“i quite clearly said. NO.”

“sebastian-”

his fists were clenching, something you failed to see, but nonetheless

“please, darling-”

“i must leave-”

he pulled you by your arm and quickly, oh so quickly

he raised his other hand

it wasn’t by much, not by much at all

but it was so sudden, so shocking, and so uncharacteristic of him

it left you shaken

you stared at his gloved hand, mouth agape

memories came back to you, almost tenfold

some of your past with your adoptive parents

some of your past with your biological and deceased parents

some of the orphanage owners that you lived with

a gloved hand, to you, was something that often terrified you

and, in that moment, sebastian was no longer sebastian

he was your father, your adoptive mother, and your previous caretaker all at once

hand raised, brow furrowed, and eyes wide

the sight was bloodcurdling to you

tears clouded your vision and you backed away, resorting to running from the current room you were in and locking the door

sebastian had lowered his hand upon seeing your facial expression

but, despite him trying to process what had just occurred and the emotion that came with it, he was only trying to configure the aftermath

he knew you had locked the door, really

and though he had the key to enter if need be, he left you alone.

he wouldn’t want you to be so awfully scared that you would fear for your wellbeing after this point

he would approach you after you have settled what you need

you would be returning to the manor after everything has been worked out, and he’d ask tanaka to lead you to your carriage

of course, while advising ciel of his actions and your dilemma

so, in that time, he would have to process the regret

the true, honest regret

and come to terms with what had happened as well as what he is to say and do to fix the situation as best as he could

and so, come the next day, he was alreayd prepared

ciel had been the one to greet you, and tanaka was the one who led you into the manor at you next visit

and while you saw sebastian, you were still hesitant to talk to him

you knew that he meant no real harm towards you, that it simply was a spurred reaction

but that didn’t make it much better at all.

ciel had been the one to chew out the servants for screwing things up so awfully that day, so they really straightened out and quick

so they had been on their best behavior for the time that you were away, and still had been

sebastian had been given a break, and tanaka had been temporarily appointed the caretaker for the phantomhive child

ciel really, truly saw you as someone to respect, so he made sure that you would be fine and that sebastian felt guilt for it

it wasn’t until nightfall came that you talked to sebastian

it took some time to muster the energy to do it, but it was done nonetheless

he had approached you and held out a hand, which you obliged

he gave it a light kiss, meant to signify a simple apology

you knew how formal he could be, and he never really did this after an event such as the one that recently occurred unless he was instructed to find information

so this was slightly shocking, but it calmed you down.

“darling, i do apologize for my atrocious behavior during the last time we were alone.”

“no, no - you did it as an impulse reaction, nothing more. you wouldn’t hurt me.”

he chuckled just the slightest at that statement, but guided you to a nearby seat.

a candle was lit on a shelf not far away from said seat, and it smelled faintly of (favorite/scent).

it was an apology silently accepted as you sat beside the tall man and shared a conversation.

the following times that he was bothered, he made sure to avoid letting any anger reach him as best as he could

(that, or he took it out on grelle if she just so happened to be in the vicinity of wherever he happened to be)

(sometimes, he even ended up beating the red-headed reaper in front of you)

(ciel would always scowl, you’d always giggle a little. it was funny, so-)

Undertaker

this guy.

okay.

with undertaker, i don’t think he would raise his hand unless something positively huge was compromised.

he can get serious, yes.

it can get intimidating, yes.

but the thing is...he isn’t particularly violent unless pushed so far that that’s the only course of action.

(dude’s an xntp of some kind, logic and ideas are way higher than kicking and fighting when things go wrong)

that said, i think this would have to do with him planning his resurrection idea

that, and/or putting it into action.

specifically during book of atlantic, or right before.

it would probably be during the planning stage, and i have a feeling that work would manage to get to him

he is a reaper, and he does have emotions, so it isn’t like he wouldn’t be even a little stressed about this.

that, and he needs someone to help put that plan into action.

he didn’t manage to reach his partner, and you?

yeah, you were completely and totally unaware of his plan, much less aware of his whole idea.

you only knew that he was doing something, and you assumed it to be his normal work.

he was busy, as always.

but, you knew that he also needed a break from time to time.

again, he’s a reaper - he needs to function like a normal human to do acts that a human is almost completely unable to do.

so, using what was available, you made him a snack.

it wasn’t much, no. not much at all, but it was something.

you had a plate in hand, taking it to a door to the undertaker’s office

knocking gently, you heard his voice ring.

“who could possibly be knocking on my study door?”

you laughed, shaking your head and setting the plate you held on the ground.

“tis merely a burglar, darling. they happened to drop a snack by for you, as well.”

“ha ha! well, i appreciate the burglar’s efforts!”

and this followed as habit for days

which then turned to weeks

which then turned to months

which caused you to get a little pissed.

your partner wasn’t responding to your efforts, he wasn’t even opening the door in front of you.

if this was just a portion of his normal job, then why is he being so secretive?

so, tired and annoyed, you did what you would normally do.

bring him food

(again, still a reaper.)

and instead of just dropping it by the door like usual, you knocked and stood there

“whoever may be here at this hour?”

“yet again, a burglar, darling. i do think we need to focus more on our security.”

“ah, and may they perchance have food readied?”

“why, yes they do. they do wish that their target would meet them to flaunt their loot.”

silence.

you knew it would happen.

he doesn’t respond to this well, but you usually calm him down.

this? totally different story.

“well, my apologies dear burglar, but i’m unable to do so. would you please leave the plate beside my door and i’ll provide a gift of thanks tomorrow?”

you breathed in deep, knocking again.

you heard the old wooden chair that he kept in his study move when you didn’t reply.

some footsteps echoed as best as they could, but that was it.

until the lock became undone.

the door didn’t open, no, but the lock became undone

so, angry and worried, you stormed inside

“undertaker, darling, take a break.”

he cleared his throat and sat still enough

still enough to warrant some fear

“please, you need to rest and i’m sure that this endeavor of yours can wait.”

slowly, slowly, oh so slowly he stood

and finally looked at you

you remembered seeing his eyes before, but now?

there was a fire in them that scared you senseless

“darling, if i may, i’m quite busy-”

“and you’re failing to care for your health. you never seem to listen when i have to remind you-”

“now-”

“-that you can’t thrive off of what is essentially spite and drive-”

“(y/n), my dear-”

two steps closer.

“-simply because you wish to. may i remind you-”

“darling, i might advise you to calm down-”

“-you are not a demon nor one of those damned creatures referred to as angels, you are simply a-”

“darling...”

another two steps

“-reaper. you are a reaper, and you need rest just as much as the rest of us humans do, so-”

“(y/n), there is a fine line here...”

“-not just for my sake, but for yours, take. a break.”

“i cannot!”

for the first time in a long time, he raised his voice to you.

“this is business that you are not to be associated with, and it requires my utmost attention.”

his voice boomed through the walls

“with your ‘care’, i seem to be getting less work done by the second.”

he stepped closer with every word he uttered

“so, if i may say, you are being quite obnoxious-”

“i’m only trying to assure your health, reaper or not-”

“ENOUGH!”

his hand came up quickly

you flinched back just as he did so, terror overtaking you

you gulped as you stepped back, setting the food on a table nearby the exit of the study

silence rang louder than he ever did in that moment

tension rose, very obviously so

“alright then. i’ll be out of your way if that’s what you think.”

you pushed your chest up, raised your head, and proceeded to turn your back to him

“i’ll be leaving then.”

and you left

he sighed, sulking hsi way back to his seat

he was staring through his fingers at the copious amounts of work present on his desk

shame was everything he could comprehend.

you, on the other hand, took to roaming the town.

waving to the townsfolk that you knew and vice versa, sharing slight conversation with those that you could say you were friendly with

you even ran into grell when walking past the nearby church

“ah, hello, (y/n) my dear!”

“hello, grell.”

she noticed your attitude as soon as you spoke.

nothing could slip past her

“what happened, dear? do you wish to talk about it?”

you shook your head

“i’d prefer if we just took a stroll around. i need to clear my mind.”

so you did.

small talk was exchanged, and she told you of her issues in the workplace

stories about how overtime was exhausting, complaining about being ridiculed for the event with madam red by will, even about how people in the office were outright insufferable

it got a slight laugh out of you

even when she would bring up her advances towards the phantomhive butler, you listened and let her talk

it was relaxing, but you couldn’t help but feel a little dejected still

your partner just raised his hand to you even though you were trying to make sure that his health wasn’t suffering

yes, you were being a tad bit obnoxious, but it wasn’t out of malice

it was merely worry for him

the night fell not long after, and being courteous, grell walked you home

“rest well, darling! i shall see you again soon!”

you smiled slightly, “of course, grell. i wish the same to you. good night.”

and you slowly walked into the undertaker’s shop, trudging to the small flat that you both lived in hesitantly

when you entered, undertaker was located in the kitchen area staring at a cup of tea in his hand

creaking was heard upon your entry, and his head darted up to face you

you sniffed, turned away, and went to hang your coat

“may i inquire what it is you need, undertaker?”

he cleared his throat, and though you couldn’t see it, directed his gaze to the warm liquid in front of him

“i apologize for my actions earlier.”

you sighed, turning back to him and waiting patiently.

“it was impulse, particularly one that i’m not fond of. you were simply making sure that i was well taken care of, and i took it for granted.”

“mmm. alright then.”

approaching him, you brushed a stray hair from his shoulder

“i accept your apology, though i will say that i do not apologize for my intent. i apologize for my persistence, though - it was quite rude for me to barge in on your work.”

a simple little moment was shared in silence in that moment

he sipped his tea, you stood by and made dinner for the both of you

“do you wish to work again tonight, my dear?”

“not quite. rather, i’d wish to relax with a good book.”

you gently smiled, nodding and reaching for silverware and napkins to prepare the table with him

Ciel Phantomhive

ciel here is a bit of an enigma

we know he is usually calm and collected, b u t

he’s still a child.

his emotions are going to be all over the place, and him raising his hand to someone was depicted

(in regards to lizzy breaking his ring)

so this wouldn’t necessarily be normal, but it also wouldn’t be something that isn’t a plausible reaction (sadly)

but, for the sake of this, let’s say that ciel is almost 18.

business for funtom was getting tiring, and it seemed that every case he was being thrown was harder than the last

his lessons were getting more plentiful, the servants were wreaking havoc around the manor - more so than usual

a guest was to join you and him at the manor tonight

and, finally, daily annoyances were starting to get to him

he couldn’t even sit through a game of chess.

you had been staying at the manor for the summer months, as your family knew his quite well since you were children

(you two were close, so your staff was caring for your manor while you were away)

(you still had your personal servant with you, though)

you had been trying to play against him, but as much as he tried, the most energy he could muster was used to complain and sigh in dejection

it left you feeling a little off, but you knew how he could get.

“do you need some time alone, ciel?”

“hmm? oh, uh...if you wouldn’t mind...though i do apologize in advance.”

you smiled and shook your head

“no problem! whenever you need me, i’ll be in the manor. somewhere.”

so, you left.

and with that, chaos seemed to hit him harder.

the servants were getting more lax, driving him (and sebastian, but more so him) up a wall

and grell decided it would be a good idea to infiltrate the manor and ‘relax’

translation: annoy the living hell of out sebastian and himself

case after case was being sifted through, and despite his intelligence, ciel could swear he could feel his brain losing its functionality

add that onto the extra work that sebastian provided for the day (seeing as it was one that was much less busy than others) and...

you’ve got a pissed off phantomhive.

night rolled around, and with that, so did the arrival of the guests.

it also meant that there was going to be some intermingling

and chaos, as always.

dinner was stressful.

mey-rin had been instructed to only set the table - 1. by. 1., as per sebastian - and pour the wine

but she had slipped.

again.

ciel sighed, but sent a look towards sebastian.

finny didn’t do anything outright outrageous, but upon the reminder that the dinner event was tonight, he tried to fix up a portion of the garden.

it didn’t work.

the portion was completely black. no clue how, it happened though.

and sebastian had warned ciel, so it was supposed to be blocked off.

sadly, though, once the dinner itself had ended and the intermingling began, people were adamant

‘i’ve heard wonderful things about your gardens, mr phantomhive!’

‘the flowers here supposedly bloom much more beautifully than elsewhere.’

that wasn’t uncommon.

so they of course had to see the garden.

it was a game of cat and mouse, keeping the guests from the destroyed area.

you, ciel, and sebastian were acting as mice in that scenario

and by the end of the night, as desserts were being left

bardroy had burned the kitchen down.

a g a i n.

ciel had about had it.

sebastian was able to keep a more level head, thankfully, and got him to calm down just the slightest.

though he was just as pissed.

that said, though, things did get worked out

and the cleaning process was almost insufferable

again, after being knocked to the side, grell decided to try again.

ciel had it at that point.

he had stormed to his office, almost looking like a child throwing a hissy fit.

you noticed this and immediately trailed him

“ciel, is everything alright?”

“i’m fine.”

“you’re mad, you’re not exactly fine.”

“you heard me the first time, y/n.”

“yes, i did. and i don’t believe you.”

by this point, you two had made it to his office and were getting heated

“well, darling, might be good for you to believe me.”

“no, i don’t think so. you’re mad, i can tell, the guests could tell - everyone here knows.”

“no, not a single occupant knows.”

you sighed, shook your head and took a deep breath before speaking.

“ciel, you’re mad. livid, even. that’s fine. but you need to discuss it.”

“no, i don’t. i’m not mad.”

you step closer to him.

“yes, you are and you need to talk. things are different now, ciel. you don’t have to hide anything from me.”

another step closer.

“y/n, this is fine. it’s fine. it is merely a normal occurrence.”

“normal occurrence, maybe - but no matter, you are mad. and stressed. that’s easy to see.”

another step.

“you’ve gotten tense, you haven’t even been able to sit through a game of chess.”

and another.

“you were constantly glaring, and couldn’t even fake small talk with the guests tonight.”

and another.

“just sit down for a second...”

one more.

“take a deep breath or two...”

you were in front of him now, reaching for his hair to brush it away from his eyes.

“and then we can ta-”

his arm seemed to raise instantaneously.

had ot not been for sebastian getting there in time, who knows what would have happened.

either way, you were shaken.

no tears, you knew he could get worked up and resort to moronic actions

but this was only slightly unexpected.

you nodded, backing away and taking a deep breath

“fair enough. i’ll wait until you’ve leveled out, ciel.”

giving your awareness to the tall butler, you retreated to your personal room for the summer and called for your servant to help you get into your night clothes

you went to sleep that night with a head full of thoughts.

he had never gotten violent with you, until tonight, that is

and he had always been upfront.

was it stress?

was it simply anger?

or was this a sensitive time for him in general?

these questions plagued you

as they plagued ciel, as well

it had been a pretty intense day, mostly due to the copious amounts of events and documentation that needed to be done

but that doesn’t excuse his actions.

he knew that you would listen, you’ve done it before.

multiple times, you would sit and listen and provide input whenever - and it always seemed to be at the right time.

he truly messed up, and he knew it.

he just didn’t quite know how to verbalize it

“young lord, if i may suggest something, it would be best to get to the point.”

sebastian was helping ciel to bed at this point, and even he was about tired of tonight.

“and how would you suggest that i do that?”

ciel waited as sebastian hummed

“they’re reasonable. waht you have to say, they’ll listen. just be honest with them, young lord.”

humming himself, ciel sent sebastian off once situated in bed for the night and stewed over what to say.

the next morning, you and ciel were seated at different ends of the dining area table

the aura was tense - enough to know something was wrong, but not enough to know exactly what it was.

ciel cleared his throat after sipping his tea, brushing his pants before looking at you

“y/n, i owe you an apology.”

you raised a brow, but straightened yourself in your seat and gestured for him to proceed.

“it was wrong of me to raise my hand. i was livid, i was also stressed, but that is no excuse,.”

your gaze softened just the slightest.

he was tense, again, and almsot fumbling to put together a sentence.

likely about why his reaction occurred.

“we can get into the details later, ciel. i appreciate the apology. you don’t have to tell me why if you don’t wish to.”

and from then on, the day slowly got better.

sebastian even gave ciel a break, keeping papers from him and cutting his classes for the day.

you two had finally managed to reconcile, going on multiple little adventures in the manor itself.

looking through all of the books in the library at the manor, going through the garden, even venturing through the woods beside the manor (being trailed by your servants, of course.)

essentially, everything came to a better end than beginning (considering the ‘beginning’ was the previous night)

he also managed to keep himself in check following the event.

(it shocked you, how well he adjusted)

(seriously.)

(ciel managed to keep everything together, even when the day was worse than the event that caused it).

(it also shocked sebastian, to be frank.)

(but you weren’t complaining - you were connecting with him better!)

2K notes · View notes

kalliyen · 3 years ago

Text

“Flipped” Part 1

Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Ni-ki of Enhypen, Danielle of NewJeans, Soul of P1harmony

Genre: Flipped (2010) AU, Early 1960’s AU, Students AU, Non-Idol AU, Slight E2L, Fluff, Crack, Angst

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warning: a few swear words! Riki is kind of a jerk in Part 1 but he gets better I promise, Y/N is described as a ‘stalker’ but she is not.

Disclaimer: Only a work of FICTION do not take any of this seriously. This is based of by the movie/book Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen so all rights go to her, I am not trying to steal her work, this is only inspired by her work. My version of her story replaced with my own characters.

Word Count: 1,647 Words

(Part 2)

(# y.is = your initials)

N.RK

All I wanted was for Y/N L/N to leave me alone.

It all started before the 4th grade, when my family had just moved into the neighborhood.

I learned pretty quickly that this girl could not take a hint.

While my dad and I were unloading our moving truck, she suddenly came in and decided she wanted to help us, when dad stopped her.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, what do you think your doing little girl? Those boxes have valuables in them.”

“Don’t you want any help?” She replied.

God this girl was already so annoying.

“No. Now, why don’t you run along to your mother? She must be very worried about you.”

“Oh no. She’s knows where I am, she says it’s fine.”

My farther and I exchanged a look, when he spoke up

“Riki, isn’t it time you, ah, helped your mother in the kitchen?”

I gave him a confused look “huh?”

He gave me a look that said ‘go on son’

I quickly understood and dashed inside the house, and that’s when she started following me!

She grabbed my shoulder out of nowhere and I tried to shoo her away, but we ended up holding hands.

Which was quite embarrassing.

Thankfully, my mother came out of the house.

“I see you’ve meet my son?”

“Yeah” she replied. Was she giving me heart eyes?

Retracting my hand from hers, I quickly dashed away to hide behind my mother. Which was a bit cowardly of me, but what other option did I have?

However, my troubles were far from over.

When the first day of 4th grade arrived, I discovered that Y/N would be in the same class as me.

She ran up to me and started hugging me out of nowhere! Thankfully, she let go because our classmates were starting to tease us.

I internally prepared myself, because this girl, would never leave me alone.

Finally, in the 6th grade, I took action. I had had enough of Y/N’s weird antics and clinginess.

I devised a fool proof plan. It required 3 steps.

Step 1: Ask out the most attractive girl in school, Danielle Marsh.

To further understand the genius of this plan, you have to understand that Y/N never liked Danielle, and I never knew why, She was pretty, nice and she seemed to have a lot of hair.

“Hey Danielle! Wait up!”

“Oh hi Riki! What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask..do you wanna go to the movies with me this weekend? You know, like a date?”

“I’d love to Riki!”

“Great! I’ll see you on the weekend”

Step 2: The more I’d hang out with Danielle, Y/N will get less and less interested in me.

So far, being Danielle’s boyfriend was great. Sure I didn’t quite understand what she was saying half the time, but seeing Y/N give Danielle the death stare that would’ve bored holes in her head, made me happy. Because that meant Y/N would finally stop liking me.

One day when we were both walking down the halls, I spotted Y/N in-front of her locker.

To add salt in her wound, I decided to grave Danielle’s hand.

I know it sounded evil, but the furious look Y/N gave us, made me feel satisfied.

Step 3: (my personal favorite) I’ll finally live a peaceful Y/N-less life.

For two weeks, not having a certain unbearable someone, bothering me and breathing down my neck, was heaven.

But my supposed best friend, Haku Shota, had also taken an interest in Danielle. And loyalty gave way to desire, he told her my master plan that I only shared to him, just to get an opening to Danielle.

The next day of school, while I was peacefully reading a book, Danielle walks up to me and slaps me on the face.

You can assume she didn’t take it well.

Word got out and soon enough Y/N started giving me the goo-goo eyes again. It was so annoying.

But next year, 7th grade, would be different. New class, bigger school, maybe I could finally get away from Y/N.

The first day I meet Nishimura Riki, I flipped.

It was those eyes, those dazzling eyes. Gosh, I could stare into them forever if I could.

His family had just moved into the house across mine, and I decided to go over there and help him, and get a better look at this cute boy.

I started to help them unload the boxes from their moving truck, when his father stopped me.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, what do you think your doing little girl? Those boxes have valuables in them.”

“Don’t you want any help?” I asked him.

“No. Now, why don’t you run along to your mother? She must be very worried about you.”

“Oh no. She’s knows where I am, she says it’s okay!”

He and his father exchanged looks. I couldn’t quite tell what that look was.

“Riki, isn’t it time you, ah, helped your mother in the kitchen?”

So his name is Riki huh? An adorable name for an equally adorable boy.

He ran back to his house, but I could tell he didn’t want to go, so I chased after him.

I was about to ask him if he wanted to play a little before he got stuck in his house, right before he reached out to hold my hand.

Everything slowly went into slow-motion, was this it? Was this going to be my first kiss?

Before we could get any closer, his mother interrupted us.

“I see you’ve meet my son?” She asks.

“Yeah” I reply. I’m pretty sure I was giving him heart eyes.

Before I could say another word to him, he let go of my hand, and hid behind his mother, he was so cute.

That night, I contemplated the kiss that could’ve been. I was sure he had a crush on me, because he was so shy and cute, he couldn’t even talk to me!

Boys were like that, my mother said. If they couldn’t talk to you and started blushing around you that meant he liked you. So that must mean Riki likes me, right?

On the first day of 4th grade, I was so happy to see Riki walk into class.

“Riki! You’re here!” I tackled him in a hug, he got so embarrassed that he tried to let go, maybe it’s because all the other kids were looking at us while laughing.

I reluctantly let go of him, since he looked so shy and embarrassed.

When 6th grade rolled around, I had learned to contain my excitement whenever I saw him around.

But just when I was about to greet Riki good morning, I noticed he was talking to Danielle Marsh.

Danielle Marsh was nothing but a snobby, rich little backstabbing gossiper.

I didn’t hear much, but when I pieced together that she and Riki were going to go on a date, I had heard enough.

I was furious! The next few weeks I’d find them in the hallways, acting all lovey-dovey with each other.

One school morning, I saw them walking in the halls, as per usual, Danielle was blabbering on about nonsense, and Riki grabbed her hand!

She was holding hands with Riki. My Riki! I got so mad, I slammed my locker, which made some heads turn and look at me.

But I didn’t care. I was so mad I got back home and started furiously crying. How could he do this to me? I thought he liked me?

N.RK

Seventh Grade brought changes all right, but the biggest one didn’t happen at school. It happened at home.

My grandma had come to live with us, and whenever I got back home from classes, I always saw her looking out the window.

My mother said it was because she missed my grandfather, but it wasn’t something she would ever talk about with me. In fact, she rarely even talked to me.

That is one day when Y/N appeared in the local newspaper.

I had just gone down to take a snack from the kitchen when I was about to go to my room,

“Riki, may I speak with you for a moment?” My grandmother asked.

I stood there, a little confused, but I answered “Yeah sure, what’s up Grandma?” And then I took a seat beside her.

She handed me the newspaper “Your friend, Y/N L/N’s on the newspaper”

I took the newspaper from her hand and stared at it.

‘13 year old girl refuses to climb out of tree’ It read.

Y/N and that stupid tree. Specifically it was a Sycamore tree.

She had always had a fixation with that stupid tree, ever since we were kids. And I never understood it.

“Riki come up here with my brothers! It’s so fun!”

“No thanks!” I yelled. That not what I needed.

It would be all back to the 4th grade again. ‘Y/N and Riki sitting in a tree!’ Yeah right, I’d rather eat Lima Beans for the rest of my life.

I handed back the newspaper to my grandma. “She isn’t exactly my friend, more like uh, an annoying acquaintance.”

“Well why not? She seems like a nice girl” Grandma asks, seriously, did she really want to be friends with this girl?

“You’d have to know Y/N Grandma..” I answered her in a low tone.

“Well I’d like too!” I guess that she did want to be friends with that girl.

“Read this. Without prejudice.” She tells me, and hands me the newspaper.

“Alright grandma”

I go up to my room and toss the newspaper on my desk. Yeah right, like a needed to know more about Y/N L/N.

I knew exactly how she was, she was a stubborn know-it-all and a stalker. I don’t need to know more than that. And I don’t want to know more than that either.

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 3 years ago

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(saw this on my dash and had to dribble with it. featuring my own HC about a neurodivergent Not!Albus ((but for purposes of this, he is still named Albus though I stand by in a universe in which sirius black is alive, over his body would Harry ever be allowed to get away with that shit)). xoxo)

in which sirius knows a thing or two about being sorted somewhere unexpected.

It had taken some years, longer than Sirius would've liked to admit, to be able to decipher between the different types of quiet, as far as his middle grandchild was concerned. In a family full of big voices and a bold opinions (a grandfather who didn't hesitate to call bullshit in legal proceedings, a mother who never bit her tongue around the daily prophet, a father who called a spade a spade and had been raised in home where feeling wasn't a bad thing. His older brother never stopped moving; his little sister stamped her foot and couldn't be moved) Al felt things deeply. Thoughtfully. Took time to process information, his surroundings, retreating into books and writings in his journal to make sense of everything. It took time for Sirius to learn, with the help of his husband, that quiet didn't mean that something was wrong necessarily. Sirius knew what it was like to want a quiet space--his own study turning into a place of refuge, thankful that for once he had put a boundary and everyone had to knock-- and for Al, it seemed the quiet space was his own mind.

There was the quiet Albus got during holiday dinners, smiling and nodding and laughing along with everyone, enjoying the company without speaking. Sirius would be sure to pepper in check-ins, or else give Al odd jobs to do away from the noise, the two of them often retreating into the kitchen and taking a painstakingly long time to cut the pie. Breaks, so to speak. Time to bond otherwise, different traditions forming for the two of them.

There was the quiet Albus got while working on schoolwork, or reading a book. A train could come and he wouldn't break focus, but a single question of how do you like it? would open an entirely new world. Albus talked fast like his father--like James-- and it made Sirius smile every time.

There was the quiet Albus got after a fight with his siblings or his parents, seeking out Remus for equally quiet comfort at Number 12.

But this, was a new type of quiet entirely. Albus fidgeting and worrying his lower lip the first Sunday at tea in Remus's office. Because Sunday tea was a standing tradition with James Sirius and Albus, who had just started Hogwarts was now a part of it. He hadn't touched his tea, and while James was talking enthusiastically, Al hadn't said a word. New. Uncharted grounds.

Remus noticed too, able to reach over and gently pull the hand out of Albus's mouth, nails already bitten, and cuticles already red. Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, recognizing the silence as new but the expression wasn't. Al was sitting there trying not to cry as James talked about the beginning of third year and upcoming quidditch tryouts and the new electives he had started.

Sirius exchanged a brief look with Remus before standing up, "I'm so sorry, babe, I just remembered I have a book at Number 12 that I meant to bring here," he said, excuse leaving his mouth, and James shrugged.

"You're so weird," James said, "Book emergency? Whatever."

Sirius grinned, crossing the room easily and messing up James's hair roughly, "And now you look just as weird as I am," he teased, James laughing and swatting Sirius's hand away, "Al, how about you floo back with me? You can take a look at some I thought you might like."

It wasn't Sirius's best performance by any means, as far as lies and apologies and excuses went, but Al stood up easily, not posing any questions, walking with Sirius to the floo in Remus's office. They landed in the parlor of Number 12, Sirius brushing some of the soot of his shoulders, walking to stand in front of Albus and taking a knee.

"Better?"

A tiny nod, green eyes looking down at the ground.

"I do have a book I can show you if you're interested," Sirius started, "It's a sort of memoir about a wizard who didn't use magic for four years..."

"Why'd you read that? Doesn't seem like a you book."

"For work, boring reasons, but it was a good read," he said smiling softly, reaching to put a finger under Albus's chin and tilting his head up, "I'm also here to listen if you're interested in that."

Quiet.

The clock ticked, but Sirius didn't move.

"I'm not in Gryffindor," Al whispered, "Are people mad? I feel like they're mad and just not saying anything...pretending to be happy, but I'm not in Gryffindor, but they actually hate me and are angry. And James said I should ask to try again but I don't think it works that way..."

"Oh, mon amour, no one is mad, I can promise you that." Sirius said, ignoring the aching in his knees from being on the ground for so long, realizing he was definitely not twenty-something anymore, and ignoring his impulse to hug Al and never let go. He stayed, running a thumb across his grandson's cheekbone, "And to be honest with you, we're not even that surprised."

"Because I'm different!"

"Yes." Sirius said simply, "You are. How boring of a world would it be if we were all the same?" He asked, watching as Albus's eyes filled with tears.

"I'm always different and...Grandma made me that big blanket with Gryffindor colors for my bed and I can't....use it because it's just wrong. A-a-and everyone's been nice there! At my table! But no one...they're not James's friends, and nothing I own is green or silver or...I don't think Mum and Dad wanted me there....even if they're not saying it. Because I'm a Potter. What kind of Potter goes into Slytherin?" he finished despairingly, voice shaky and tears streaming down his face.

Sirius inhaled deeply. He wasn't twenty anymore. But he could easily remember what it was like to be eleven and sitting on a stool, listening to a hat shout out an unexpected choice, and the feeling of having the rug pulled out from underneath your feet. Like an amateur muggle-magician, pulling the tablecloth on a delicately set table only to have every single piece of glass shatter. Sirius was older now and still cleaning up the shards left behind.

"Come with me?"

"Where?"

"Upstairs?" A tiny nod, and Sirius apparated them both upstairs into a bedroom of Number 12 that had been untouched for years, though Sirius went in there monthly to make sure it was clean. How his brother would've wanted it.

A Slytherin banner hung on the wall, the curtains on Regulus's windows dark and heavy, his brother unable to sleep with any sort of light coming through. The bed was made with handsome grey sheets, all of Regulus's books on the shelf. A trunk at the foot of the bed.

"What's....where is this?"

"This is my brother's room."

Albus's eyes went wide, a single sentence stopping the tears, "But you don't let people in here! We're not allowed; that's the rule. Did you break a rule?"

"I make the rules so I can break them," Sirius grinned, his hand on Albus's shoulder, "When I was your age... I was sorted in Gryffindor, after my entire family for years, I'm talking hundreds of years had been in Slytherin," Sirius said looking down at Albus, "And my parents weren't as great as yours, but...if they knew one thing it was that you cannot control a hat. I argued with that hat for so long and it made no difference."

"I did too...I tried."

"Hat knows best."

"Were they mad?"

"Not at the sorting, no," Sirius told him, leaving out the part where his parents were only mad at who he became after. "I was pretty out of sorts about it at first, disappointed a bunch of people...being a rebel wasn't as cool as I initially thought in reality. But then I met your Granddad James and Granddad Moony...and I learned so many new things that made being different worth it. I got a best friend out of it, and I got to fall in love, and Professor McGonagall was...my perfect Head of House who understood what I needed to be my very best. And I'm certain yours will do the same. Hat doesn't make mistakes."

"Really?"

Sirius nodded, breaking away from Albus to walk towards his brother's trunk at the foot of his bed, popping it open for the first time in years but knowing the contents like the backs of his hand. "We're all so proud of you, Al, you can trust in that. It doesn't make you less of a Potter, it doesn't make you less a part of this family--at least not where I'm concerned and I make the rules..."

"You don't make all the rules...that's what Mum says anyway."

"I make the important ones. Like...I love you so much, no matter what happens. So does Moony, and your parents. And your sister and brother," he said, smiling as he reached into the trunk, pulling out a blanket--green and silver, neatly folded-- and setting it on the bed. He pulled out a sweater. A quidditch jersey, BLACK in silver letters on the back.

Albus walked slowly to Sirius, pausing before taking a seat on the bed, in a room that no one else had been allowed in for years. Al pulled his legs up, sitting crossed-legged, tears and worry subsiding slowly as he ran a hand over the soft material of the blanket. "A...blanket?"

"It's not hand-knitted, you'll have to give me some time to do that," Sirius said, "But...it is very soft, and I can't think of a better person to take care of my little brother's belongings. You're very careful. You see the world for all its complexities, smarter than I've ever been," Sirius said, closing the lid and catching green eyes in his own, "You are exactly where you are supposed to be. And sometimes...it's very necessary to break family tradition."

"What if I don't play Quidditch? I don't think I like Quidditch, I just like Mum..." Albus ran his hand over the faded letters on the back, speaking softly.

"It's still yours to wear," Sirius smiled, "I know it doesn't say Potter, but the Blacks and the Potters have--"

"They're the same. It's the same name. Dad says so."

"See? Not so different."

Another quiet settled in, Albus sitting on the bed, looking around the room with wide eyes. The familiar kind Sirius knew that wasn't full of worrying and unspent tears, but just the kind that said I'm processing. Emotions, environments, words. But Albus was smiling, sitting in a room that mimicked Albus's at his own home. One that was neat and tidy and simple. A quiet space. Sirius let out a breath before joining him in the same position, making a mental note to check for pain potion in the medicine cabinet, two Slytherin banners in his hand. One for a dormitory. One for a study.

#sirius black #albus potter #granddad sirius black #also wolfstar granddads #also some regulus black in here #whoops

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insomniamamma · 3 years ago

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Pigment: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/N: So this idea was kind of kicking around and then the Writer Wednesday prompt gave me permission. I know for certain that I'm not the only one who headcanons Ezra using writing and drawing as a way of building up dexterity in his non-dominant hand. Apologies if this is too derivative. This is fairly early in the Prickle 'verse timeline. Takes place after "Rain." Reader's nickname is 'Artichoke' but Ezra also calls her 'Prickle' or 'Prickle-girl'. Warnings: Mentions of old injuries. Mentions of violence. Food mentions. A little anxiety on reader's part. Mild language.

You didn't mean to look. It just kind of happened.

Acora is a trinary system, two main-sequence stars that orbit each other in a slow precise dance, and way out, past the smattering of gas giants and icy worldlets a T-class brown dwarf that the researchers on the bench nick-named Big Pink. Two suns means that certain times of day are unbearable for suit-work, so the three of you wait in the tent. The pod is mostly powered down, so not to overtax the coolant system and even with the scrubbers and chillers running no one wants to move much. You hear Cee shifting around in the upper bunk, tinny sound from her music player punctuated by snippets of singing. She forgets sometimes and sings aloud. You don't mind. Ezra sits propped up, scribbling in a spiral bound book resting on his knee, scratching away with a nub of graphite pencil. Probably running pull numbers or orbit curves, fuel-to-mass and all that. You wonder why he doesn't just use his tablet. Seems like it would be easier. You try to distract yourself from the rising heat, the tiny pinholes lining the tent's seams that sizzle like little stars, irritatingly bright while you try to read. It doesn't help that you've read this particular mediocre locked-room mystery multiple times. You already know who done it. That's how it goes. Most decent sized benches have some form of lending library, or at least junk dealers willing to make a trade. Paper books are surprisingly valuable out here. You don't have to charge them. They won't shit out if you drop them. Software glitches or botched updates won't turn them into useless bricks. Acora is not a decent sized bench. A skeleton crew of ice miners to keep her fueled and the flying, other than that it's all researchers. Geeks studying the workings of a trinary system. All of them seemed a bit wiggy, like when there was a dust storm back home and you'd have to seal everything up and kick on the scrubbers and try not to murder each other while waiting for the sky to come back. These aren't even real storms, your Gran kept saying, we aint had a real storm since they started dropping ice down the well. Still, by day four or five everyone would have tight smiles and big jittery eyes and once you'd watched your two older brothers start beating the shit out of each other in the kitchen because one ate the last sweet roll without sharing and Ma had to wade in with a broom to break it up. Not that you really expected a station full of scientists to start wailing on each other, but it didn't seem like any of them had been off bench in a good while. The rumpled botanist who's shelling out for live samples from this gruesomely hot little moon exuded that sense of being bottled up in spades. She talked rapidly and told the three of you far more than you needed to know for the task she hired you for, smiling big all the while. Your hand drifted downward to the thrower at your hip. Cee caught the motion and gave a little shake of her head. She was stimmed up to her eyeballs, she'd told you later. My father would get like that sometimes. As long as her money's good, who gives a shit, right? A quick and dirty little job while the freighter unloads and refuels, a three cycle turnover. You try to settle in and ignore the sweat sliming your skin, juicy rattle of the chillers struggling to cope. Best to wait for first sundown, Ezra told you, we'll still have plenty of light but a lot less heat. You peer at him over your book. He is deep in concentration, taps the eraser end of his pencil against lower lip and then against his forehead as if he could knock his ideas loose, brows pushed together in thought. Kevva, he's got pretty eyes, you think, and he glances up at you, a small smile quirking one side of this mouth and you wonder if you've said it aloud, feel heat creeping into your face. "Good book?" "It was the first time through." "Don't worry," says Ezra, "There'll be better pickings on Tirana. It's just a hop, skip and a jump. You can trade for more reading materials there." "Hop, skip and a jump," you echo, the both of you knowing full well that you'll be finishing this novel and then re-reading one of the other half dozen you've got stashed under your bunk before you hit Tirana Bench. "Right." Ezra chuckles and you turn your attention back to this foolish story. Bench-boss's asshole son gets snuffed and the plucky hero has to figure out who did it, all sealed up in a ring with the potential killers, femme fatale ship captain inserting herself into the mess. You know all the twists, familiar as the weight of your suit and body armor on a drop, as Cee's music, as Ezra's snores as he drops off into sleep, soft rasps off to your left, and you feel your own eyes growing heavy as well, a sort of reflexive slide into sleep, too hot to do much else, you rest your book on your chest and let your eyes fall closed, sinking into the unintentional rhythm of tent-noise, the chillers, soupy and rattling from sucking humidity out of the air, small comfort knowing the water is going right into the tanks, that it won't all be cycled piss, Cee's music, some Vayok synth pop she picked up two drops back, Ezra's small snores, and you're almost out yourself, right on the edge, things starting to turn soft and unreal, when a sharp sound snaps you back.

You push yourself up on your side. Ezra's notebook lays on the dusty floor, face down, front and back covers splayed like wings, pencil not far off. Must've fallen asleep writing. You frown. He's had that notebook since before you've been crew. He would not like to see it wrinkled and left on the floor. You pick it up and brush the dust off, straighten the pages, smooth the wrinkles back down and that’s when you notice that his technical notes are not notes at all, or at least not entirely. He has drawn Cee to the life, the tilt of her head, music player covering her ears, that far-away face she gets when she's listening to something new. A Central-standard date pencilled in beneath. You shouldn't look, you should place it beneath the corner of his bunk where he's got his data pad charging, and his stash of Shock-berry Limited Edition Bitz-Bars (as if he had to stash them, they were nasty on so many levels that you and Cee had handed over your share of them in a wordless trade for the regular kind, better the devil you know). You flip a page, curiosity getting the better of you. A cluster of heptagonal shapes, and you feel yourself smiling. The fossils on CJ's World, opaline red, winking in the sun as you pulled them out of the soft sediment. A good and easy haul, low risk. You'd seen a rainbow rising out of the distant sharp cut canyons, and found Ezra's hand folded warm around yours. That was a good day, you think, listening to Ezra's soft snores. "You sure you stripped the aux input panels?" He asks clear as day and you freeze, but then he shifts and the snores resume. One more page, you tell yourself, then we stop being a snoop. The next page bears your face and your name, not 'Artichoke', but the one you signed on the line when you joined this little crew. You in profile, but that can't really be you, can it? You recognize your tactical gear, the webbing that holds your thrower to your thigh, your knife-sheath, the tool belt you wear in place of armor when you're on a friendly drop, but there's a small soft smile on your face, a light in your eyes that he's somehow managed to imply in a few graphite strokes and paper left blank. He's drawing weak-handed, that must be it. You flip the sketch book closed and place it beneath the corner of his bunk with the rest of this things. You lie back in your cot and stare at the pattern of shifting light over the tent, waiting for your mind to settle. It takes some time.

Tirana Bench is a ramshackle hub but there are plenty of stalls in the commerce ring to poke around in. This is how it goes. Once the pod is supplied and the next job negotiated, there's usually a little time for the three of you to split up and get whatever incidentals you need for the next leg of your endless trek around the Great Arm, books, music cylinders, special snacks, extra consumables. Used books, a hand lettered sign reads, one for one trade. You've left what you mean to trade with the man running the shop, and you've got a few promising novels tucked in the crook of your arm when something else among the junk catches your eye. A flattish metal case the length of your hand opened to show wells of bright pigment, cracked, obviously used but with plenty left, a clutch of fine bristled brushes held together with a bit of string. Paint-kit, the tag reads, near new. You fold it closed and examine it, turn it in your hands. If Cee was here you'd ask what she thought, but she's off somewhere else in the commerce ring, making her own deals. The label is mostly missing, faded yellow against the plain grey metal. The catch is s small button and when you push it, the lid pops open on its own. That's what sells you. Ezra can open it one handed. You add it to the clutch of books. He's gonna think it's silly, you think, and the proprietor obviously agrees because the trade for the battered tin of colors is two novels. "That's highway robbery," you grumble. "Where else you gonna find honest-to-Kevva art supplies in a dump like this? Lose two stories or take your trade elsewhere." "Fine," you say and take the slimmest two volumes and slide them back across the counter, "We good then?" "We're good," he says and you tuck the remaining books and paint-kit into the bag slung over your shoulder. "Safe flight, spacer." You nod. Spacer as a form of address still feels weird, like a title you haven't earned. You wonder if that feeling will ever fade, if that small voice that says you have no business out here in the black will ever shut up.

You find yourself hurrying along the ring, suddenly wanting to reach the pod before anyone else, because now you're wondering how Ezra will react to your gift, your present, and you feel silly. You imagine his brow arched quizzically, what's this now, Artichoke? Kevva. You can almost hear him. If you get to the pod first you can stash your things without the others seeing, your books, your vac-packed saar jerky, some new socks because you wore holes in the ones you'd gone off world in, and this little tin of used but mostly good paints. And then you can just not think about it for a while. Gods this is stupid, why are you so worked up? So nervous at the idea of giving Ezra a gift? This is something friends do for each other. Give each other little trifles. Doesn't mean more than that right?

Of course Ezra and Cee are both in the pod when you get back, Ez arching an eyebrow at you. You're late, Artichoke. By, like, two sixteenths, says Cee, snapping one of the pods many storage compartments shut, rolling her eyes, you had a good half buffer. "That half might make the difference between us shoving off without you," says Ezra, "Clear?" "Clear. It won't happen again," you say, feeling heat rise to your face. "I trust that it will not."

You hurriedly stow your things and brace yourself for the change in grav as the can-hauler you're clipped to undocks, the flywheels spinning up to dampen the bench's spin and then transfer their momentum to the freighter's smaller ring, grav meant for passengers and cargoes that can't tolerate microgravity, a sick sideways upward lurch and it still doesn't feel right, you find yourself breathing hard, swallowing saliva that tastes metallic. "Here," says Ezra, reaches across and hands you a wrapped piece of candy, "Spice-root. It'll help your stomach. Hold it in your mouth for a spell. You'll be alright." You take the offered candy and tuck it into your cheek. "I always keep some of this on hand," says Ezra, "You never know when your inner ear's gonna decide that you're going backwards and sideways all at once." You try to slow your breathing and just listen to him talk, Ezra's voice is like a warm steadying hand. "Amateur," says Cee, with a teasing grin. You crunch your spice root candy between your teeth and give her the finger. Ezra chuckles. "Seems like you're about back to normal, there, Prickle-girl."

Privacy is an odd thing living in a drop pod for extended periods. Clipped to a bench it's not so bad, there are places you can go, things you can look at, food stalls, bars and the like. You can get away from each other for a little bit. Clipped to a freighter? It's been a mixed bag so far. Depends on the ship. Depends on the whims of them flying her. At best there might be a grotty little mess hall where you can get a hot meal. At worst you are locked down in your pod, with no view and nothing but the same shit rations you eat downworld. It's not entirely unfamiliar, being cooped up. The winds would kick up so high back home that the sand and flying dust could scrape you raw and bloody if you got caught out in it. Privacy is a matter of claiming it, and everyone agreeing to it. When Cee has her music player over her ears, you and Ezra know not to bother her, likewise when you are reading, or when Ezra is running points or calculations or drawing. Silence will fall between the three of you. Not unwelcome. Just everyone doing their thing, usually after you've eaten your last meal of the day, no rules, just an easy habit the three of you have fallen into. Except tonight you can't seem to settle in. You've read the first five pages of the horror novel you traded for on Tirana Bench at least a half-dozen times. It's not that the story or writing's bad, you just can't concentrate. That little metal box in your storage compartment is burning bright in your mind like a lump of radioactive material. You glance over at Cee. She's fast asleep, music player knocked askew. You know eventually she'll take it off in her sleep. Ezra is still awake. Of course he is. Better now than when Cee is awake. She'd probably roll her eyes and call you a goof-ass, but it's not her judgement you worry about. She'd probably also tell you to quit waffling. You abandon your novel on your crash couch and fetch the paint kit from your storage locker. "Hey, Ezra?" "Yeah?" You turn to him, holding the little box behind your back. "I, uh, found something I thought you'd like. On the bench." He's sitting up on the edge of his crash couch, legs hanging over, sketchbook spread across his lap, looking at you expectantly. You offer him the paint-kit. He looks at the battered metal box and then back up at you, that little line starting to stitch itself between his eyebrows. You feel yourself starting to smile a little at his confusion. "Push the button," you say and he does and the dented lid springs up. You set the box on the sketchpad, flat surface folded open and step back, hands worrying at each other. Ezra raises his hand to his mouth. His face runs through a complication of emotions. "I saw some of your drawings. I didn't mean to pry, you fell asleep and dropped your book and I didn't think you wanted it getting all dirty, and I saw this kit and thought you might like to try some colors," Your face and neck go hot. You're rambling. "I mean, you always say how you gotta have the right tools for a job and I saw this and figured I'd get you some tools. It doesn't mass much more than a book. I thought--" "Get me a squeeze bulb with some water, yeah?" "Yeah okay," you say, and snag a squeeze, "You're gonna try it now? It's kind of late-" Ezra makes a dismissive noise. "We've got fifteen and a quarter cycles cooling our heels in this pod," says Ezra. You look at him and he is beaming, dimples sunk into his scruffy cheeks, eyes warm and crinkled, he glows and you feel yourself warmed by him, feel yourself mirroring his smile.

"Plenty of time to sleep," you say and plop down next to him with the squeeze bottle of water, "I think this big well is meant for the water." "I think so too," says Ezra, and his smile falters slightly, "Can you hold the paints for me? I can finagle some sort of lap board later, maybe one of the grading trays--" "Sure, Ez, I've got you." You rest the box on your knee so he can reach. Ezra wets the brush and dips it into one of the paint-wells, long dried pigments soaking up into the fibers. He strokes the bristles over the paper, a long blue squiggle, experimenting with pressure and thickness. Dips a second brush into the clean water and uses it to draw the blue across the paper, staining the fibers, fading color like some sort of magic trick. "How do you know how to do that?" Ezra shrugs. "My mother drew and painted when she had the time," he says, "I used to watch her and she'd let me try my hand at it, but I was never any good." "Well that's bullshit," you say. The blue squiggle becomes a fractal pattern, an oxbow river seen from orbit. "It's not though," says Ezra, rinsing the blue out and going for a deep green, "Cee got me my first blank book. I had to teach my weak hand how to be clever. I meant to teach myself how to write again. I'd copy out my letters over and over and my hand would cramp after a spell. Drawing helped me loosen back up." A constellation of green dots and drips make a forest, tiny pink pin-pricks a field of flowers. "My handwriting is still utter dogshit though," he muses, fully focused on the sketchbook in his lap, "Funny how that works." "Kevva might take a lot from you, but she always gives something back," you say, one of your Gran's expressions popping out of your mouth unbidden. "Just so, Artichoke, just so."

#writer wednesday #ezra x f!reader w/cee #ezra prospect x f!reader #prickle 'verse #prospect AU #prospect fic #pedro pascal #writer-wednesday

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youabandonedthem · 2 years ago

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What REALLY Happened on Diwali? (written 10/27/2022, revised 12/11/2022)

Informal Script/Screenplay.

Setting: the felt are all wearing ethnic clothing while being interviewed by an unnamed journalist. The video’s perspective is through a shaky camera that goes in and out of focus at times and shows the recording length in the corner

die: well, i w-w-w-w--wwas just trying to celebrate diwali, you know the, holiday we celebrate in our home planet, Clower offered me a samosa but I declined, you know, I was p-p-p-p-p-putting the l-l-l-lights up, And then i saw... One of THEM... (slow zoom in on his face, blurry) Interviewer: Can you tell us more about what you saw? Die: (squeaks and hides his face) II-I-I- shouldnt like to keep talking now. Please turn that off

(cut to the next felt member)

Fin: You know, i saw it coming. I knew they was coming here but I didnt mention it to the others cus I didnt want to ruin everyones day! But I knew! Trace: (holding on to him and snuggling him) You didnt tell me neither... fin: (is also holding trace) No trace... No i didn't... Interviewer: So you knew they were coming? did you see them doing anything? fin: Yeah but i figured, maybe I should have a little fiath this time, maybe they celebrate it too. WRONG! Interviewer: what did they do? Trace: (wrapping his tongue around fins tongue) fin: (holding tace closer) Trace: (breaks off) excuse me, will you turn off the camera, this is a PRIVATE MOMENT.

(camera out of focus before zooming on Eggs face at a weird angle) Eggs: They were so mean to us, they dont want us to be happy. They bullied us on diwali. Interviewer: How did they bully you? Eggs: I was iwth biscuits and puttig, rangoli on the floor so we went in to put the rangoli in the hallway. I use my timer to make a lot of it. And we saw graffiti on the wall. Noboydy in my gang makes graffiti beucuse crowbar would kill us so we knew this wasnt one of us, it was spades slick and his gang.

The graffiti is shown: "YOUR SHITE AT CRICKET" "YOU'RE KITSCHEN AND CLOTHES SMEL BAD LIKE REALLY BAD LIKE A DEAD ANAMAL, PROBABLY BECAUSE YOU ARE SO RETARDED AND EAT CURRY" "I AM BIASED AGAINST YOUR RELIGION"

Eggs: (crying because hes so upset) They hate us and they were racist to us on diwali . interviewer: Thank you for sharing your experience so bravely

Clover: HEE HEE HEE! (dancing) BEFORE I CAN TELL YOU THE TRUTH ABOUT DIWALI, YOU MUST PROVIDE THE ANSWERS TO MY RIDDLES THREE!

(Almost immediate cut)

crowber: they RUINED diwali. interviewer: who? crowbar: YOu know... THe crew. The midnight crew. I know on derse they practice that other religion, they wear tthose headscarfs and stuff. I dont really get it. They’re not civilised people. interviwer: How did they ruin diwali? Crowbar proceeds to tell the only coherent story thus far detailing various scenes about the crew cartoonishly ruining the felts diwali playground bully style. His dialogue fades away as it shows the scene happening in real time: Hindu party music is playing before the crew busts in and a record scratches and islamic Allah worship music starts playing. Boxcars smashes a light on the wall causing all of Eggs time travel duplicate lights to become destroyed and go out at the same time. a close up shot of Slick spitting in the curry and the spit travelling down the curry in slow motion while droog pours dal down the kitchen sink. Deuce stacks several rectangular boxes of indian sweets on his head with his hat on top wihle flailing his arms around

After the showing of this skirmish the final interview is with spades slick himself who briefly talks about the event from his perspective and goes on in a thinly veiled india vs pakistan rant except its derse vs leprechauns. the end. And actually some time after i wrote this i realised it would be infinitely more fitting for it to just be prospit vs derse but its ok.

#the felt #diwali #homestuck intermission

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

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Across the Board || i || kth

(banner done by the great @kimtaehyunq )

↠ Across the Board ↞ You’d hit a low point in life. With bills piling up and your bank account empty, you were starting to get desperate. So when you got the invite to your oldest friend’s birthday party being hosted at the most popular underground casino in town, what did you possibly have to lose? You took what little you had left in your savings, put your card skills to use, and entered a private blackjack game.

And you’d won. And went back for more, and more, and more.

Until you lost.

And now you’re indebted to the city’s most dangerous mob boss, forced to pay your dues in blood one way or another. With a gun pushed into your hands and your life at stake; once you’re in, you’re in. You’ll never get out.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Genre: Set in the Roaring 20s! Gambling. Mature themes. Mafia!au. Mafia Don!Taehyung. Violence. Law breaking. Alcohol use. Death of minor characters. Explicit language. Enemies to lovers. Short series. 18+

|| Next | Masterlist | |

Danger.

It was a word right up there alongside the definition for the term “stupidity.” While not next to each other in the dictionary, they were close enough that your brain was unable to pick out the subtle differences. Perhaps you’d just always had a habit for screwing your life up, or maybe it was just genetics. Who knew?

You should have listened to the warnings, should have stopped yourself before you got in too deep. Hell, you should have done a lot of things. But you had no one to blame for your current situation except for yourself. However, if you’d learned anything throughout your twenty-two short years of life, it was that life lessons didn’t mean jack if you didn’t get yourself into messes into the first place.

Though staring down the barrel of a revolver sure was a funny way of going about it.

The air in the dimly lit back corner room was tense enough to hear the sound of a casino chip fall to the ground somewhere beyond the shut door. None of the six men sitting around the round, green felted table spoke a word. Their attention — and yours, consequently — was fixed on the single man in the room who barely even batted an eye at the clear panic evident on your face.

He sat on the opposite side of you; the scowl pulling down his bow shaped lips and the narrowing of his fierce gaze had fear chilling your veins. That man was much like an exotic animal; beautiful beyond belief, but dangerous right beneath the surface. A carnivore staring down his prey. The single light above the table threw his shadow against the wall as he casually aimed his pistol right between your eyes.

“You were saying, dollface?”

His neatly parted, straight black hair fell across his face when he leaned forward as if the next words out of your mouth would seal your fate. Not that the thought of having to have your blood cleaned from the expensive carpet beneath his expensive shoes seemed to bother him in the slightest. In fact, he’d look almost bored if it weren’t for the dangerous gleam behind his espresso irises.

“I—” You cut yourself off, swallowing roughly and glancing back down at the table. A depleted deck of cards sat in the center, two hands laid out on the surface. One was yours — a ten of diamonds and a ten of clubs — and the other his. A red ace of spades and a black jack of hearts.

You were out of money.

Having bet more than you possessed, you were also out of chances.

“It’s simple. You owe me money as promised,” his deep, baritone voice spoke up casually over the noise of your heart beating through your chest. “Either hand it over, or you won’t be leaving this room alive. Your choice.”

You closed your eyes for a moment too long to be called a blink, and cursed yourself for ever getting into this situation.

One Month Ago

Final Notice of Payment

Ms. L/n,

This is a reminder that you have a balance of $20.54 that is past due. Please make a one time payment no later than—

“Oh, please.” The bill enclosed envelope hit the top of the small, circular dining room table. Or was it the kitchen table? It was hard to tell, seeing as how they were one and the same.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the creaky wooden chair, fingers massaging your temples. That was the third bill you’d come across that morning and every single one of them was the final notice of payment. The last warning they’d give before sending someone to collect what was owed.

It hadn’t always been like that. You hadn’t always been in such an insurmountable amount of debt, not until recently. Two months ago your mother, the last bit of family you had left, died. Passed away clinging to the sheets of the hospital bed she’d been laid up in for the past half a year. Cancer, the doctors had said. From all of the cigarettes she’d burned through in the past decade or so.

Irrecoverable, they’d said.

No amount of “sorry’s” or meaningless condolences could fix the massive amount of money that the hospital billed you. Or the debt that your mother left behind, along with her slim-boned corpse that you’d had to bury in the corner of the city cemetery. Perhaps if you’d known who your father was, you could’ve laid her to rest in the space next to his own, but you didn’t. Weren’t fortunate enough to.

Bills had piled up. Rent for the tiny studio apartment the two of you had shared was demanded by the pigeon-toed old woman who owned the rundown, overpriced building. Her husband had passed away two years ago and ever since then, she’d been relentless. She pounded on your door at approximately eight in the morning everyday, shouting through the thin wood that you had until the week was up to pay what was owed. Otherwise you’d be tossed out onto the street with only the clothes on your back.

Combined with the utility bill and the fact that you still had to come up with the dough to feed yourself, you were trapped. The meagre pennies you got from your waitressing job at the diner three blocks away weren’t nearly enough. Nothing would be enough. Not unless you wanted to sell your body on the street corners in the late of night.

Which you didn’t. And you wouldn’t. You’d be more likely to end up dead in a ditch somewhere with your throat cut than out of debt. The city wasn’t safe for women, less so by those men who saw prostitutes as no more than an object to relieve stress onto. And you refused to become another headline in the paper.

Tossing the opened envelope across the table, you paused when familiar handwriting caught your eye on top of the rest of the mail pile. Addressed to you in a curling script that only ever came from someone who could afford a private tutor. You sighed, carefully sliding a knife along the top to slice it open. A waft of sweet, cherry scented perfume filled your tiny kitchen and you almost rolled your eyes at the unnecessary addition.

Jennie, your oldest friend since high school, always had an inclination for the unnecessary. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a gold digger for a mother, she’d had nothing else to waste her time on. How you’d even gotten on as friends with such a gap between tax brackets was still a mystery to you. Maybe it was because she’d always used her wealth and status to get the two of you out of trouble. Whether it was from breaking into the school late at night to get wasted in the halls with the rest of her friends, or to get away with slipping things from the corner store into your dress pockets.

She’d always been a rule breaker.

Which was exactly why when you read the contents of the letter, a laugh tumbled from your mouth. It was an invitation to celebrate her upcoming twenty-third birthday in three day’s time. That wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, however, if it weren’t for the location. There wasn’t an exact address, there never was. Just a thin piece of cardboard the size of your hand that fell from the envelope. A playing card — a red ace. One that looked normal except for the center that had the name of a restaurant in the heart of the most rich part of downtown printed on it.

It was a ticket to the most popular underground casino in the whole city. No one knew how to get one, how to get your name onto the list that only catered to the rich and powerful. Located beneath a restaurant, it had grown to be infamous almost overnight since gambling and alcohol was outlawed. Even the coppers knew well enough to leave the establishment alone.

The only way to gain entrance was by flashing a ticket to one of the restaurant staff. That was what you’d heard, at least. You had no idea how May had managed to secure one, let alone enough to cover what you knew would be a large party of her closest friends.

Flicking the corner of the card, you couldn’t believe your luck.

Your mother hadn’t taught you very many things, had been too busy gossiping with her friends over a carton of cigarettes to bother. What she had passed down, however, was her ability to draw cards. To play blackjack with the best of them. That’d been the only thing she’d ever bothered to teach you; when she’d had too many sips of wine and her eyes had glazed over with memories of the life she used to live.

She’d sit you down and make you memorize the names and faces of the cards until you could count them forward and backwards. Could predict what card would be drawn and when. Where she’d learned it, she’d never told you. But that didn’t matter now. Couldn’t, seeing as she was dead and all.

Grinning, you flopped back into your chair.

Maybe you’d be able to pay off your debts after all.

And you had. Paid off your debt, that is.

After clearing out your savings account of the last fifteen dollars you had left to your name, you’d dolled yourself up and gone with Jennie and her friends. Had left the group of flappers tittering and groaning drunk at the line of slot machines at the back of the casino. Calls of bets being placed, dough exchanging for chips, and illegal cocktails pouring into glasses played as a soundtrack.

None of the card tables scattered across the underground establishment held what you’d been looking for. Neither roulette, nor craps, nor slots. The bartender had been the one to tell you where the real games were, where the cash was. A door down a tiny back hallway led to a room where private games were held. If you managed to win at one, he’d told you, then you’d win not only the pot, but an invitation to come back and play again.

Which had been an opportunity that you just couldn’t pass up. No matter the risk.

You’d won.

And now you were addicted.

To the money, the lifestyle, the adrenaline that shot through your veins like a particularly harsh sip of gin. Which was exactly why you’d gone back. Again, and again, and again, every single week for the past month. It wasn’t your fault that it was so easy. So simple to swindle your way into getting your name permanently written down on the entry list.

Oh, and the men.

It was a different group every week, but they weren’t all that dissimilar from one another. They’d sit there and smoke their cigars and drink their whiskey, all while silently mocking you with their eyes. Like they thought they were better than you just because they had a dick between their legs.

You were addicted to that too.

To watching the way their faces would fall in disbelief every single time you cleared the pot and took their money. And how their voices would raise in pitch with their countless complaints about how some lowly broad conned them out of their pocket change. Because that’s all that money was to people like them.

Change.

They were rich. You could tell by the custom suits they wore, the cologne they bathed in, the way they carried themselves. The money they gambled with always had a cap, a max amount that they were willing to bet. And the games never got too crazy, didn’t escalate once they lost to you. Which was a shame really, because you wanted more. Craved more. More of what, you weren’t too sure, but the high that playing brought only lasted so long until you came crashing back down.

Which was exactly when fate decided to change the routine.

“Here to play again, miss?” Felix, the same teenage boy who always manned the door to the gambling room, asked with a slight tilt of his head. His light brunette hair was tucked beneath a bowler hat, different from the usual fedora. Back to the door, he was standing up straight instead of his normal slouch. And the way his mouth was taught around the edges was out of the ordinary as well.

The boy didn’t have a cigarette clenched between his teeth, which should have been enough to set off the bells in your head. But it didn’t. Because you were too bullheaded, had gotten too cocky in the terms of things.

“You know me too well, Felix.” You reached out a hand to pat the lanky boy on his suit clad arm lightly, a smile pulling up at your red painted lips. “Is the usual table ready?”

The volume in the casino wasn’t as loud either, nor were there quite as many patrons. But you’d just chalked that up to the heavy rain pounding a path into the concrete outside. Though the lack of customers did nothing to eliminate the permanent smell of cigarette smoke that lingered, hidden in the walls beneath the fancy looking wallpaper.

“I don’t know if you want to play today, miss.” Felix glanced away from you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You blamed the flickering light in the corner of the hall for the way his freckles stood out amongst his slowly paling cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer. Not at first. Silence lingered in the hall, drowning in the soft jazz music coming from the band on the stage near the back of the joint. It took the raising of your other brow for the underaged boy to finally answer.

“It’s just not a good day for gambling.”

Now that had you leaning forward until you could finally catch his flighty gaze, voice hushed in a playful whisper. “Oh really, how so? Is there a stool-pigeon running about somewhere? Should we be expecting the coppers to come kicking down the door any minute?”

“No. I—”

“Then why can’t I play, Felix?” You were starting to get irritated. The week had been long and you were ready to forget about it all for the next few hours. Buried beneath the weight of a handful of cards and glass full of gin.

Either Felix could see your growing impatience, or there really was something he was hiding, because he stepped even further in front of the door. “You don’t want to play with this group, miss. They aren’t as welcoming as the others are. It’d be best if you just went home.”

“You ca—”

“And what’s going on back here?” That wasn’t Felix’s voice and neither was it yours. You whipped around, surprised at the new addition.

The man behind you had honey brown hair parted and styled carefully until it was brushed back away from his heart-shaped face. Though some of it still hung in front of a single, dark eye. His other was uncovered, a scar running through his eyebrow and cutting it in half. Everything about him was angular, sharp. From his jawline to the slope of his nose and the corners of his full lips.

One look and you already pegged him for a cake-eater, a ladies man, if you’d ever seen one. Hell, he even dressed like he came right off the front cover of one of those Time magazines that littered the newspaper stands on every street corner. With a navy blue suit and perfect, unscuffed shoes.

“No, sir,” Felix attempted to pull the man’s attention from you unsuccessfully. “The missus here was just leaving.”

The Stranger hummed, tilting his head to study you with those sharp eyes of his. “Were you, bunny? Just leaving?”

You couldn’t help the twitch of your nose at the unfavorable nickname, squaring your shoulders and crossing your arms with a scoff. “No, I wasn’t. I want to play a few rounds, you see, but he won’t let me.”

Perhaps you should have felt bad for ratting out the kid, but you didn’t. Especially not when the Stranger huffed a laugh, a distinct ha-ha-ha! in amusement. Though there was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t name. Didn’t want to acknowledge. “You want to play a hand of blackjack, is that right?”

“Ab-so-lute-ly.” You raised an eyebrow at the man and waved a hand through the air. “I can play.”

“Oh,” He asked, taking a step closer until you had to crane your neck back to meet his imploring gaze. “Playing isn’t cheap.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I can pay too.”

He must have been waiting for that answer if the smirk that pulled at his lips was any indication. And he finally, finally broke eye contact to wave aside the boy behind you. “Well, did the dame make herself clear or not? She wants to play.”

You happened to turn just in time to catch the alarm that flickered across Felix’s face as he stepped to the side to reveal the door behind him. Felix reached out with a ringed hand to twist the brass knob of the door. It swung open without a sound and he gave you a quick, wide-eyed stare filled with a warning you couldn’t interpret, before looking away.

“Well?” The Stranger questioned from over your shoulder. You could smell his cologne now; husky with a hint of sweet orange.

His words were an invitation if you’d ever heard one. And you didn’t want to look like a bluenose, a prude, so you stepped inside without hesitation. Though perhaps you should have taken Felix’s unspoken warning, for you had no idea just what it was that you were walking into.

Inside the cramped room was filled with a haze of cigar smoke, which wasn’t unusual at all. What was, however, was the group of six men sitting at the circular table as you rounded the corner with the Stranger at your back. They were beautiful, all of them. A huge contrast to the usual rabble that came to play. Hell, even underneath the dim light you couldn't spot a single flaw on them.

No one noticed your entrance at first.

Well, at least not until the Stranger cleared his throat. “Gentleman.”

His greeting sounded like it toed somewhere on the line between amusement and respect.

All movement in the room came to a halt as six men looked up from where they’d been bent over the blackjack table. If you’d been a little less prideful and a lot more careful, then perhaps the overbearing confidence that bled from their pores would have given you pause. But as it was, you stood standing, back straight and head held high. Even while their eyes roamed your figure like tigers behind a cage at the zoo right before feeding time.

A pause hovered in the air, lingering with a tension that crawled onto your skin. What seemed like hours passed merely in seconds before it was broken.

“And who’s this?” The question came from the fella who sat in the chair closest to where you stood. He was turned around with his arm propped up on the back of it, head tilted to the side in curiosity. His hair was styled similar to the Stranger’s, though his was darker and the gel pushed through the strands made it gleam silver beneath the dim lamp that hung above the table.

High cheekbones and skin the same color as molten honey, his jaw worked around a piece of gum stuck between his teeth. A smirk pulled up at the corner of his mouth, dark eyes glittering with a touch of interest. With a black and white suit that complimented the shade of his hair, the man was nothing if not a billboard: flashy. Handsome.

“I found bunny here outside arguing with Felix. Something about wanting to play a few rounds of blackjack. Isn’t that right?” The Stranger placed a heavy palm between your shoulder blades. What might have been intended to come off as comforting, only succeeded in making you feel the opposite. Like you were being put on display.

You didn’t let it show on your face. “That’s right.”

“Oh?” Gum Chewer’s smirk grew broader at that, but he said nothing else. Just leaned back in his chair.

“What do you say, should we let her play?” Blond hair, pink kissable lips and dangerous, dangerous eyes. The slim man sitting next to Gum Chewer was attractive in a pretty way that made you envious of his easy-on-the-eyes looks.

While the question may have been asked to the whole room, none of them answered it. Instead they looked towards one of the men sitting in the middle who had yet to speak. If you’d thought the rest of them were a sight for sore eyes, well, they had nothing on him. How your attention hadn’t been drawn to him the moment you walked through the door, you didn’t know.

He wasn’t even looking at you and you already felt tongue-tied. Busying himself with shuffling the cards in his hands against the green felt table, the expensive looking rings adorning his slender fingers caught your eye. He was what your mother would’ve called a timeless beauty. The type of handsome that meant he could walk the streets of the city in nothing but a sack and he’d have women throwing themselves at his feet.

Hair the same shade as a moonless sky made him look intimidating, like he belonged to the shadows themselves. A straight nose, cupid bow lips and long eyelashes that would make any broad jealous; he gave off the type of power that could make even the bravest of men cower at his feet. The longer he took to respond, the more the room grew still. As if your fate was in the hands of a man who’s name you didn’t even know.

Though perhaps it was.

A muffled thud echoed throughout the room as he tapped the deck of cards against the table once, twice, before sliding them over to the fella to his left. Plucking up the glass of scotch in front of him, he finally looked up. And graced you with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“What’s your name, dollface?”

tagged: @bewitch-me @jxngkooksthxghs @kaitswrld @clarissalance @namurkive @ifntelyinspirit @kotaevln @red--aren @ggukkieland @moonlitmyg @i-like-puppy-mg @aianloveseven @drumsofheaven @figurativehoe00 @wonhoandonly @wacdon @hear-me-growl @milaridez7 @1088x1088 @alana-ba @vlntaeg

#bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #magicshopnet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #bts #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #jungkook #jimin #namjoon #hoseok #seokjin #yoongi

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stevesharrlngtons · 5 years ago

Note

34 with roman 🥺

(remember when i talked about a nanny!au? well... here it is. somewhere in an alternate universe...)

the feel of fingers brushing together by accident

sorry if roman is a bit ooc

You sat at the breakfast bar with Nadia, your arm outstretched creimously on the countertop as you watched her fumble through arithmetic. A bowl of Hershey Kisses sat between you both, crinkled balls of their foil scattered about. Your temple rested against the crook of your elbow as you fussed with the tin, waiting for Nadia to need any assistance.

“You could be cleaning,” Peter quipped from the sink.

“You’re the only old maid around here. I have better things to do,” you countered back, as you flattened a wrapper and began to peel it apart.

“Scrolling through Neiman’s and sleeping ‘til noon?”

“Precisely,” you looked up to grin at him in time to see him roll his eyes.

Nadia gave a little giggle at the encounter and you threw her a playful wink.

Most late afternoons into early evenings looked just like this one. You with Nadia at the counter as she did school work, and Peter wandering on the fringe of your conversations as he tidied and cooked dinner. It had felt strange at first, how quickly you had created such an effortless routine that rarely held hiccups or upsets with the two, who were supposedly notoriously closed off and unaccepting. But, it had seemed to be fate, that you had been the missing gear to their unit that was needed to have everything run smoothly. You were extraordinarily lucky to have earned both their favors, as well as Nadia’s father and Peter’s stringent boss’.

You rolled a discarded foil ball between your fingers before promptly flicking it at Peter’s head. Nadia burst into giggles once more and your heart swelled at the noise. Peter gripped the sink and turned to look at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping her with her homework? Or are the concepts a little too lofty for you?” he snarked.

“It’s third grade math, Peter,” you scoffed and fell back on your arm causally.

“I know it is,”

You huffed and stuck your tongue out at his back. Nadia began to laugh again but you poked her with your Manolo, a silent signal to keep quiet. She obliged, but her lips still held a wide grin.

It was always a beautiful sight, her smile. A beaming expression that you rarely saw from her father, but often in photographs of her mother. Their upper lips curled the same way, which only widened her plump lips that she gained from her father. Her blue eyes crinkled at their corners and sparkled when she looked at you head on. Her smile was a wonder of the world, and after you informed her of this, the action that used to be next to impossible to achieve, happened regularly.

“How many times does eight go into one hundred ten?” Nadia asked you, moving her pencil so you could see her long division problem.

“Ok, c’mon, you got this. Start small, you know how many times eight goes into eleven right?”

“But do you?” Peter muttered, just loud enough so you would have no trouble hearing him.

“Quit, dish bitch,” you picked up another foil ball and tossed it at him.

You heard him chuckle under his breath.

“Once,” Nadia stated.

“Great! Now put the one there, and the eight below,” you guided and Nadia did so.

You both worked out the rest of the problem, and only one short curse word was said by you by the end. You were never good at long division, or math in general, so a worksheet filed with even basic division and fractions was a nightmare to you. Maybe Peter’s jab had some merit after all…

When you and Nadia were on the tail end of problems, with your phone calculator out and helping on certain equations, the distinct sound of a key entering the front door’s lock disrupted the little girl.

“Daddy!” Nadia exclaimed, the problem you were both painstakingly working at was immediately forgotten, as she rushed toward the door to greet her father.

Roman opened the door just as she reached it, compensating quite well for a surprise rogue nine year old jumping into his arms.

His hair was handsomely disheveled, likely from running his nimble fingers through it during moments of stress in his day. His suit jacket was discarded, the top button of his dress shirt undone, and his silk tie loosened to reveal more of her perfect alabaster skin. His broad shoulders fought the seams of his shirt and you could tell that he had recently run his sinful pink tongue over his plump bottom lip. He looked positively good enough to eat.

“Daddy is right,” you mumbled, busying yourself with cleaning up the Hershey wrappers to save yourself from combusting over your boss’s good looks.

“Yes, but not yours,” Peter said, coming over to help you.

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” you replied with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, and many have,” he said knowingly.

You pinched his wrist with manicured nails and he smirked at you. It was no secret the droves of women who lined up to have a chance at landing Roman’s attentions. While many earned an entrance exam, none were asked back. You would sometimes see them with an exaggerated pouts on their lips the morning after as they trudged down the stairs and out the door. You couldn’t blame them for their theatrics or bad moods, however. When Roman Godfrey was on the line, any and all hissy fits were accepted and expected.

Roman entered the kitchen with Nadia perched on his hip, his jacket and suitcase deposited at the door.

“Evening, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he greeted professionally, as he sat his daughter on the counter next to you.

“Evening, Mr. Godfrey,” you greeted melodramatically, something Roman shook his head at.

You and Roman had never had a strictly employer-employee relationship, but you supposed that’s why you fit in so well in the Godfrey home. Since the day of your interview you were warm, practical, and up front with him and his family. You were nurturing, but firm. You treated Nadia and Roman like you would your own family and friends, and that had made you stick out from the crowd. As much as Roman needed a nanny for his daughter, he needed a friend for himself. He needed a maternal figure for Nadia, and he desperately needed a woman in his life he could trust wasn’t after anything insidious. And you fit all the requirements in spades.

“When will dinner be ready?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Peter replied, peaking into the oven to check on the chicken.

“I’ll be in my study until then,” Roman replied, as he retrieved his suitcase and then walked back toward his office.

The sound of the door shutting made you and Nadia sigh. Her little face was void of any more smiles it seemed.

“Hey,” you reached out and gave her spindly leg a squeeze, “how about we just cheat on the few we have left and watch some TV until dinner?”

“We aren’t supposed to cheat.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you that you will never need to do any of this mess in your head again. Calculators are the future -- have been the future! I’m sure when you’re in college they will be implanted in your arm and cheating will be encouraged.”

“Really?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged and Nadia crept back over to her worksheet and moved into her seat, “we’ll get your dad and all his scientists right on it.”

Dinners mainly consisted of Nadia speeding through a book of topics while you and Roman desperately tried to keep up. She was a sociable little girl and always had a story to tell from recess or gym class. She loved playing make believe on the playground, but didn’t love how her peers wouldn’t follow the strict rules she had set up for them. This was often a bone of contention for her, her brows furrowing in frustration as she explained a quarrel she’d had at the slide that day.

But tonight was different, tonight all she could do was talk about the following day.

Nadia’s third grade class was going to the Natural History Museum on a field trip and she had been anticipating the trip eagerly for months. Not only because of the normal excitement all children held for field trips, but because this one would be chaperoned by her favorite person in the world: her father.

You had convinced Roman at the beginning of the school year to sign up to attend the field trip with Nadia. He had hemmed and hawed about it for a week before he reluctantly signed the permission slip and gave it to his giddy daughter to hand in to her teacher. He would never admit it, but you knew that you were the one to push him over the edge into agreeing.

“This will be one of those memories that will make her smile for the rest of her life. I swear, if my dad had ever come with me on a field trip, I would have never forgotten it.”

And maybe it was because you had both bonded over absent parents in the past; or maybe it was the look that he often saw on your face when he had a nice moment with Nadia, the look of a little girl trapped behind your eyes, longing for her father to love her like that; or maybe it was because he knew it would make you happy; or maybe he just really believed you. It didn’t matter in the end, because he had agreed and made his little girl very happy.

“Jenny Krinkles brother had Mrs. Bridge last year, and she said that he said that there is an exhibit where you get to touch all this weird slimy stuff, and I’m not sure why it’s there, but Jenny’s brother said it’s fun! So, daddy, I want to make sure we get to see that, ok? I think you’ll think it’s fun, too,” she prattled on.

Nadia was too busy reiterating what Jenny’s brother had said about the dinosaur skeletons to notice how her father had become stock still and how his eyes were staring off into space.

You settled your fork down next to your plate and watched him with a worried expression as his jaw tightened and his eyes bulged.

“Are you alright, Mr. Godfrey?” you asked quietly, in a hope to not startle him.

Roman’s stare switched over to you in a mechanical way, his lips formed a hard line as his eyes bore into your skull.

“Daddy? Are you feeling sick?” Nadia chimed in, now noticing her father’s strange mannerisms and paling complexion, as well.

“Yes, I-- I feel fine,” Roman dropped his silverware with a soft clatter onto his plate, “I feel fine.”

You just nodded, but ducked to catch his gaze as he looked away. You wanted him to see your concern and know that you were only there to help.

“Are you sure? You can’t be sick, you’ll miss the museum, daddy and -” Roman cut off his daughter before she could spiral.

“Nadia, I’m fine. I am, but… something has came up at work last minute…” and he didn’t need to finish his sentence, it was clear what he was getting at.

Nadia’s little face crumbled into pure anguish as she burst into hysterical tears. She pushed away the remnants of her dinner and fled the table without a word. While this reaction might have looked like an exaggeration to an outsider, it made sense to you. Nadia rarely got to spend one on one time with her father, it was why she was so reluctant of your hiring and why she sprang to action the second she heard him come home. She loved her father almost to a fault, and when his promises fell through (which they often did) it hurt her a thousand times over. She wanted her father’s attention so desperately and got it so rarely. Not to say that Roman wasn’t a good father, he was just a busy one. A busy single father running a multibillion dollar company.

Roman called out weakly for his daughter, but the resounding thud of her door being slammed was louder.

“Fuck!” he raged, pounding the heel of his hand to the table top, causing the dishes to quake.

“You couldn’t push it off for one day?” you admonished.

“I don’t fucking need this from you, too.” Roman snapped viciously.

“I’ll deal with you later,” you bit back, as you took the napkin from your lap and threw it on your plate.

“You’re not my fucking mother.”

“And thank Christ I’m not,” you spat back at him, before you ran up the stairs and after Nadia.

After over an hour of coddling the sobbing nine year old and snuggling her to sleep, you carefully left her under thick blankets and in the comfort of her Barbie night light, and went to find Roman.

Unsurprisingly, you found him in his office, one a desk lamp illuminating the dark room. His tie had now been completely abandoned and two more buttons had become undone to reveal the ribbed undershirt he wore. Roman held a cigarette and a tumbler of scotch in one hand, and his forehead in the other.

“What’s the damage?” he asked in a small voice.

You walked slowly into the room, “She thinks you hate her.”

“Fuck.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you stood in front of him, “She’s an emotional little girl. And you bailing on her constantly doesn’t help.”

“So, you’re here to give me a fucking parenting lecture? Because if that’s your goal, I think I’ll pass,” Roman replied with a scowl.

“But I’m so good at lectures! Can’t you just humor me?”

You saw Roman’s tense expression falter a bit at your banter, which was silent permission for you to go sit on the corner of his desk.

“You need to remember your priorities, Mr. Godfrey. Work is work, and I know it’s important to you, but your daughter should always take precedence,” you said.

Roman was so tall that while you would be looking down at any regular man in a desk chair from your perch, you were eye level with him. In these moments when Nadia was away and it was just the two of you in his office; him in his chair and you firmly planted on the desktop; it was easy to forget the outside world existed. It was easy for you to forget a lot of things when Roman was around.

“I work so I can give her the best life possible. If that isn’t showing her that she takes precedence, I don’t know what will,” Roman argued, before he gulped from his tumbler.

“What a boring, easy answer to give.”

“It’s the truth.” he griped.

“Maybe it is, but it’s not the right answer.”

“Yeah? Since when was this a test?” Roman scoffed.

“Since the minute you had her. Parenting is always a test,” you shrugged and Roman let out a humorless chuckle.

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth…”

You both let out twin sighs. Roman took a drag from his cigarette before he looked at you. The way he looked at you when he felt weak, helpless and in need of guidance. He had once told you in confidence (and many sheets to the wind) that you were the only person in his life he felt comfortable being vulnerable with.

I don’t know what we would do without you. I don’t know what I would do without you,” he had slurred as you guided him to the master bedroom.

You still hadn’t forgotten how the weight of his body around yours felt, or the way he had stared at your lips just a few moments too long, or his musky cologne that had embedded itself into your pores for days.

“You’re smart, Mr. Godfrey. You’re gonna pass whatever messed up test raising a kid is. You just need to apply yourself and get your priorities straight,” you nudged his shin with the tip of your heel, much like you had done to Nadia earlier, “Daughter first. Work second.”

“It’s not that simple…” Roman said. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan.

“Since when is anything simple?”

There was another lull between the two of you, and you were suddenly incredibly aware of how short your skirt had become from your seat. You tugged the sides down your thighs the best you could. You didn’t notice the yearning look Roman gave you as your painted fingers ran over your nylon covered skin. When you looked back at him, his eyes were once again tied with yours.

“How do you know all this?” he asked, lifting his chin gently.

You let out a deep sigh, “I just watched my parents do all the wrong things, so I can only guess the opposites are right.”

“Leighann seems like she turned out all right,” he replied and you smiled.

Leighann, your younger sister, had been reared by you and you alone. Your parents had fucked off for most of her childhood and it left you to take care of her. Roman of course knew this, as it had come up on your application. He had a knack for remembering important facets of your life that always made your stomach twitch with affection.

“She did, didn’t she? So, you better take my word for it and start getting your act together. You don’t want her to turn out like me, do you?” as if to prove your point, you stuck out a hand and wiggled two fingers for Roman to pass you his cigarette.

He looked at you with an amused expression, but did so anyway. He held the smoke by the filter and you took it carefully. When you brought it to your lips, you could taste his fingers and his skin. As you blew out the smoke in a smooth stream from your puckered lips, you watched as Roman’s smirk grew. He widened his legs and reclined back in his seat to take you in. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about grabbing your boss by the wrist and popping his fingers into your mouth, but the way he was looking at you was so primal and seductive, you couldn’t help it.

You motioned for him to take the cigarette back before your mind talked you into doing something you would regret.

Roman leaned forward to take back his cigarette, his elbows coming to rest on his knees.

“I can think of worse people for her to end up like,” his voice husked.

As you passed the cigarette back to him, you felt the light touch of his calloused fingertips against your own. You hoped Roman didn’t hear the way your breath caught in your chest or the small shiver the touch gave you.

Roman made a show of taking the cigarette back to his plush lips, setting the filter between them and sucking deep into his lungs. All while his green eyes watched you with purpose.

“You taste like cherries,” Roman said as smoke billowed from his lips.

Your thighs pressed together on their own accord to silence the aching between them.

“So, what are you going to do about the field trip?” you changed the subject without acknowledgment. If you had, you knew it would end up with you on your knees and Mr. Godfrey’s cock in your mouth. And as much as you fantasized about it, you really loved your job, and you couldn’t let your sexual attraction to your boss ruin it.

“If it was Friday insead of tomorrow, I could make it work. But…”

“Then you’re making it up to her, y’know? This weekend: daddy-daughter day. No but’s about it. You will spend the entire day with her to make up for being an ass about tomorrow,” you chided.

“I can do that,” Roman nodded.

“Good, because I’m serious, Mr. Godfrey. She will remember this moment, you need to outshine the heartbreak with a day of happiness.”

“Ok.”

“If you schedule anything for Saturday or claim you are needed at The Tower, I swear to God that I will march down there and force you home myself, got it?” you said, standing up, just barely able to hover over him now.

“I’d love to see you do that,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“Hardy har har,” you waved your hand flippantly, before you began to walk back toward the door.

“Wait,” Roman called, “what about tomorrow?”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Who's gonna chaperone?”

“Oh, I will,” you said with a shrug, “gives me another opportunity to piss off all those stuck up private school moms anyway.”

Roman’s smirk morphed into a grin, “They’re just jealous.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You smiled at him one last time before you started to exit once more.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” you turned to see Roman had stood from his desk and was standing only a pace or two away, “I-- well, thank you. I want to say thank you.”

“It’s my job,” you laughed good naturedly, hoping to shuck off the tension that had begun to build again now that he was close to you.

“Still,” he said sincerely, inching nearer, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Godfrey,” you peered up at him with wide eyes as he towered over you.

There were his eyes darting to stare at your lips, there was his delicious cologne infiltrating your senses, there was his radiating warmth pricking at your skin and erupting goosebumps across your neck.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

He seemed to be battling with something, his mouth opening just to close again. His brow furrowed briefly, before relaxing once more with a sigh.

“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You ignored the supreme disappointment that quelled in your belly as you gave a strained smile.

“Good night, Mr. Godfrey.” and with that, you left.

feedback is always appreciated

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey au #hemlock grove au #nanny au #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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simpingforthisonedeer · 4 years ago

Link

Chapter 10: Storge I

SFW Version Here

Summary: There is some discussion of Kabbhalic lore in the beginning but this chapter and the next focuses mainly on the parental relationships Julius and Aika present. They certainly feel their age.

Notes:

- Ive split another massive chapter in half sighhhh. This is 5279 words and I’ve written 7.3k already but I still haven’t reached the ending I wanted so I just split it. 

- I know Yami and William haven’t made an appearance yet but they will. This chapter will shed some light on how Julius and Marx’s relationship and how proud he is that Marx grew up from an antsy young boy in his squad to a dependable young man by his side. -There’s like 2-3 sentences where its NSFW but besides that, nothing much sorry folks ajskjlk

Tagging: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare

Aika observed the dirty grimoire with one part apprehension and one part excitement. It was the first time she encountered a devil-possessed item without any supervision. A weg magic user that had come to Spade Nation War College as a guest speaker to her class had shown her how to recognize and deal with Devils. They were often best left alone in their sealed states whether they were friendly or not unless you wanted to make a pact. Though Aika’s curiosity was piqued, she had no interest in any other Devil except for one specific one, but he wasn’t heeding her calls or summons so she had lost any interest in becoming a host, especially considering the downsides.

There was no doubt there was a devil in there. She could feel the familiar mana from the Underworld. Aika cracked open the spine and stared in shock at the familiar writing. It was the same runic scripture from her own grimoire. She flipped through pages, skimming them. They all spoke of multiple different swords. Now, she had lightly studied grimoire magic over the years for fun because she found it fascinating how the countries in the Four Suits continent determined their borders purely based on the symbol on the grimoires. So she knew the basics such as checking the grimoire to see if anyone’s mana was connected to it and it wasn’t. This means that she could keep it and study it. If she took off her gloves, she could even make contact with the devil if she wanted to, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Aika looked up at her protégés as they stared warily at the book in her hand.

“What are your thoughts on this grimoire? What is so unusual and exciting about it?” She asked testingly. They needed to discern what it was from their own knowledge.

“Well, according to Clover Kingdom mythos,” Ellie began. “The three leaves symbolize hope, faith, and love. In the fourth leaf, a formation which occurred 500 years ago with the first Wizard King’s grimoire, contains luck. But according to legend,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “In the fifth leaf, there is a demon.”

“Do you think there is a demon in this grimoire?” Aika asked lightly.

Evan shivered before he answered, “There is definitely a devil in it. It reeks of the Underworld.”

She snapped the book shut and squinted at the anti-bird. Still strange how it was still here.

“Yes, you are right there is a devil in here,” she confirmed. They all tensed.

“What should we do? Should we kill it?” Jayce asked, his voice slightly shaking.

“No,” Aika shook her head and she crossed her legs again. “You don’t kill devils unless absolutely necessary.” She opened her backpack and stuck the grimoire carefully in it, willing it to be placed on top of her research table in her not-so-little study space in her loft.

“What?! Why?!”

“Because the very existence of devils obscures most of God’s Light and allows reality to exist. Killing them is counter-intuitive. You only kill them when they are unshackled and out in the human realm. This devil is very neatly sealed in this grimoire so no worries,” Aika explained as she smiled demurely. Their panic was quite amusing, especially when they are noticeably frustrated with her nonchalant attitude.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” Ellie asked carefully.

“Very.” She put the tea set away. “Now, if that is all, you may stand at ease.”

Their shoulders slackened and Ellie slinked over to her side and sat down next to her with a sigh.

“I can’t believe we are still brushing over the devil,” she murmured as she rested her head on Aika’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. When I have recovered, I will make sure the devil is safe before I take you guys to interact with it.” She carefully patted Ellie’s mass of white curls.

Evan sat in the armchair to her right as Jayce picked up a book from the stacks around them and flipped through it.

“I’m in no hurry to talk to a devil, ” he began as he absentmindedly traced the pages in the book. He snapped it shut with a wicked grin. “But I do want to know everything about you and the Wizard King.”

They all rolled their eyes at his theatrics. Aika shifted in her seat, quickly categorizing information that she was willing to share and details that were better left to herself. She found that this method was better than completely shutting herself out from people as per her first instinct.

“What exactly do you want to know about the Wizard King and I?” She asked as she wrapped her arm around Ellie. “There’s a lot to know.”

“Ooooooh,” Jayce plopped down in front of her like a kid at storytime and gave her his brightest smile. “How did you two meet? How did you get so close? ” He winked. Even Evan, who was usually understanding of Aika’s reluctance to share information, leaned forward as she braced herself to tell them the barest details at the very least.

She told them about her first encounter with him that night and the captain’s meeting and the assassination attempt at her home.

The three listened to her story and watched in great interest as Aika grew more and more animated, an easy smile gracing her face and a twinkle in her eye as she spoke of the Wizard King. It was fascinating to see their boss grow less and less reserved as time went by and what little time she had spent with the King had sped the process up. The more she smiled, the younger she seemed, happier, more carefree, and very undoubtedly in love.

Aika grew more somber when she talked of today. They knew of her condition and how it was dangerous to spend too much time around her. It was why they valued the time they spent with her so much. It saddened them to hear about how she had to reject him so many times when she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“But if it truly doesn’t affect him…” Aika’s gaze fell to the side. “Then I may have a chance.”

At love. She left unsaid, but they knew. They knew her well.

“There’s always an exception,” Ellie whispered soberly. “And if his words are to be believed, then he may be it.”

They all stayed quietly for a moment, and as if to herald the end of the storytime, Evan, Ellie and Jayce’s stomachs growled in unison.

Aika was the first to laugh. A tinkling kind of sound like windchimes swaying in the summer wind. They quickly joined in after the momentary shock, a sort of happiness bubbling in their chests to see her smile so freely after all these years.

“I’ve made flat bread and curry for dinner. Would you two like so—”

“Yes!”

Aika chuckled and opened her backpack. Ellie dove headfirst without warning and Jayce soon followed. She carefully helped Evan step into it as the anti-bird perched on top of him again. As he disappeared into the void, Aika set her backpack down next to the sofa in an innocuous spot. Satisfied, she climbed in and closed the flap above her. Light brighter than the study flooded her vision. She kept her loft well-lit and tidy for the most part so she was fine having guests today. Aika heard a faint “wheeee” as Jayce slid down the pole to get to the bottom floor.

When you walk further into the living room that first greets you, there was a L-shaped railing that overlooked a spacious opening to the bottom floor. There was a break in the railing for a spiral staircase and a pole which Jayce had always loved to use.

The anti-bird she had allowed into her home flitted around, exploring the open kitchen to her right and the rooms in the hallway adjacent to the railing. Evan and Ellie were already setting up plates and utensils on the table in the dining area.

Aika walked past them with a tired smile and quickly heated up curry and bread with the firestone on hand and a touch of her Time magic. She placed them carefully on the table just as Jayce launched himself into his seat. It may be rather late in the night, but he was still full of boundless energy.

Ellie helped serve the food and Aika muttered a small prayer before they dug in.

“There was something off about the Wizard King, wasn’t there?” Ellie remarked innocuously. Aika looked at her curiously. She motioned her to elaborate as she spooned some curry.

“I stood where you two were, er, standing and the remnants of your mana felt like they were the same yet completely different.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a heartbeat, if that information means anything to you.”

“He’s not the undead. He certainly has a lot of mana,” Evan added.

“Is that why you are pursuing him while still keeping him at an arm’s length, Miss?” Jayce asked suddenly. They all looked at him in shock. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “You could never resist a mystery after all.”

Aika stared at him evenly and his gaze never wavered from hers. Anger initially shot through her at his words but she held her tongue. She couldn’t be mad at him for discerning part of the truth. She was known for her lack of patience but she had lately been trying to better herself and she asked for the three infront of her to help her in this. Ellie and Evan were patient with her when she lost her temper while Jayce was the only one with the courage to test her, keep her on her toes so she wouldn’t one day explode.

“That’s not completely true,” she finally answered. Julius’ smile replayed in her head and she felt a lot calmer, a little happy even.

“I do genuinely like him.” She looked down at her plate. Her breath stuttered when she remembered his laugh, his eyes, the way his soft hair threaded between her fingers. Aika couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face.

“I must admit, he is the only one that makes me laugh and smile like that.”

“And what are we for doing all that too? Chopped liver?” Jayce snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest childishly. She rolled her eyes at that.

“You guys make me smile in a way mother smiles when her children do stupid things,” she quickly retorted. “Or when they make her proud—”

“You think of us as your children?” Ellie interrupted breathlessly.

Aika gaped at her for a moment. She had accidentally let it slip hadn’t she? It’s been too long since she had to be so careful and alert and she was losing practice. And she was especially close with these three so her guard was completely down.

She hesitated before she answered, “Well, yes—” Ellie hugged her arm tight and Jayce was suddenly behind her, arms wrapped around her neck. Evan stayed put in his spot but his shoulders were hunched as he smiled shyly at the plate in front of him, a pleased blush high on his tanned cheek.

“We’re glad you think so.”

Aika stiffened at the sudden touch. Did they really want to be that close to her? Then it hit her. Of course they thought of her as a mother. They were orphans, she had rescued them from their various dangerous situations, taught them valuable lessons, protected them, gave them means to better themselves.

Oh.

She relaxed in their hold. She had more than one child, didn’t she? “I—” I love you guys. She wanted to say, but the words were lodged in her throat. She had a severe aversion to that particular sentiment. It saddened her that she couldn’t comfortably say the words she wanted to say.

Jayce slinked back into his seat and they continued eating.

“If he makes you happy in a way nobody else does,” Evan spoke first, changing the subject for her sake. “Be as careful as you want to be before you get together.”

Ellie hummed in agreement with him. “But you also have to make it clear that while you are keeping him at an arm’s length, that you still like him, or he would take your distance as disinterest.”

“We want you to be happy, but we just hope you just don’t get hurt like last time.” Aika smiled gratefully at all three of them. They were no longer children. They were wise beyond their years and people she could depend on.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely and cleared her throat with a blush as they giggled.

They thanked her for the food and helped wash the dishes before they all climbed out, ready to turn in for the night.

Ellie, Evan and Jayce wrapped Aika in a group hug, coaxing a joyful laugh out of her.

“Good night!” They exclaimed in unison before they shut the door to study behind them.

When they left, Aika grinned and buried her face in her hands. Her whole family died when she was just sixteen and she had wandered this plane of existence for decades, making friends along the way but they all had their own lives. She forcefully planted her feet in Clover Kingdom to protect it but along the way, she had found a family again. Her uncle, aunt, her daughter, whatever Arthur meant to her, Ellie, Evan and Jayce.

She felt an indescribable giddiness as she activated her Mana Hands spell to rearrange the stacks of books around her back into their places on the shelves. This was what she was looking for all these years. She didn’t even need Julius. This was all that she needed. –

Julius closed the door behind him and shifted the painting back into place so it was covered. He leaned his head against the canvas as he exhaled.

There was an unmistakable force pulling them towards each other every single time. First, that night, then the Captain’s meeting, that moment on the battlefield, then today again.

What in the world was wrong with him? Never in his life had he felt so lost. His whole life that he only ever needed magic and the power to do good in this world but what was this squeezing sensation in his chest?

“One month,” she said. One whole month. He thought about the way her eyes lit up at the Captain’s meeting, the palpable relief when she realized there were no hard feelings, the intent way she looked at him when she slipped off her blindfold.

Julius pressed his hand to his mouth as a blush suffused through his cheeks.

Oh, he was down bad.

He had always kept these sorts of interactions at an arms-length. One-offs were fine but what was so different about her? He just became Wizard King yet she consumed his thoughts. He was supposed to be thinking about the future of his kingdom not—

‘She held you like no other.’ His voice whispered in his head. ‘You have always protected others but you felt warmth and safety for the first time in the crook of her neck and her tight embrace.’ No one had ever dared to hug him and touch him like that. No one had ever kissed him so sweetly, and with that same mouth called him a “good boy” and made him see stars.

His hand clawed at the painting behind him as he pressed his legs together.

Julius let out a breathy laugh.

This was not the time.

He stared at the voluminous stack of papers on his new desk. His desk as Wizard King. He felt the crushing weight of that title again for the second time that day. He walked up to it, his fingers lightly tracing the edges as he stepped onto the side where he had rarely ever been.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He looked around the corner less office, cold and empty in every way. There was no fireplace, only torches that lined the walls.

Why was the room so big anyways? It should have a few couches at the very least to have comfortable conversations over tea instead of the vast barrier that the desk was sure to put up.

Julius turned around and faced the view he used to envy as a Captain. The giant, arched windows looked out over the Clover Kingdom from its highest peak. The sun had set hours ago but the bright, purple glow of the wisteria trees at the base of the tower was both exhilarating and calming.

He took a deep breath and faced his desk. He ought to finish at least one stack of papers. He filled up the fountain pen with ink and sat down heavily. Julius began with the paper on the top. It was a report from the Crimson Lion Kings.

Well, that piqued his curiosity.

He had always dealt with his own squad’s affairs and some collaborative missions with other squads but he didn’t know the specifics of the internal affairs in each squad.

The report wasn’t from Leonardo, it was in fact from his son and the new captain, Fuegoleon. From the lengthy conversation he had with the Vermillion during the banquet, he could tell that he was a hardworking, young man who was eager to do his job. He also inferred from their talk that he didn’t particularly care for anyone’s class or background unlike his father so he had high hopes for the Crimson Lions to set a good example for the rest of the squads. The most recent reports were all about how the battlefield was being cleaned up and about the dead. He genuinely focused on his work for half an hour before slowing down.

He was so tired. So much had happened today and the words in front of him began to look like scribbles. Perhaps he shouldn’t have exhausted himself so much…

A knock sounded on his door, jolting him from his thoughts.

Julius cleared his throat and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Marx, Lord Julius,” he called out, a little surprised he was actually in there.

“Come in.”

Marx stepped into the room, eyes alert as he examined the big office. When his eyes landed on Julius, they softened, happy that he seemed to be working.

“Are you working, sir?” He asked as he moved closer.

“Yes, Marx.” He smiled lightly. “May I help you with something?”

“No, sir,” He shifted his new cloak. “I was just making sure you were working, sir, and offer my congratulations once again.”

Julius set his quill down as he sat up straighter.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve worked so hard to get here and I am so grateful you chose me of all people to be your advisor, sir.”

A smile grew on Julius’s face as he regarded the young man in front of him. He was only 20 years old and Julius had only known him for the last 5 but he had a special place in his heart. He may not be a superb fighter but Julius saw his value in other places. He took Marx into his squad for his brilliant memory magic, his work ethic, and his unique ability to be the only person who could stand up to him and keep him in line. And now, he couldn’t think of a better person to make sure he didn’t stray his path.

“Of course, Marx. I know you will be the one to make sure I do my job right,” He added with a laugh.

Outside of family, Marx was one of the handful of people who was truly close to him and could stand up to him. Even as a 15-year-old magic knight, whenever Marx would find him trying to sneak away, he never hesitated to berate his captain and made sure he worked. With time, Julius had come to see that he was also a hard worker and was one of the few people who could successfully curb his propensity to slack off. If it wasn’t for Marx, he would’ve neglected his paperwork all together.

Yet, there was one more person who began to worm his way into his heart.

“Though, I have to say, there is one more person who you may see often as you work whom you haven’t met yet.”

“Sir?”

“She is a private consultant who used to work for the previous Wizard King and she had offered to work for me as well,” Julius explained as he laced his hands together.

“She?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. That was an unexpected remark. “Yes, Marx. She’s a woman. I hope you don’t have any issues with that.”

He threw his hands up as he shook his head. “No, sir. That’s not the issue. I just never heard of any women in particular that could be a consultant for the Wizard King.”

Julius laughed, slightly relieved that Marx wasn’t that kind of a person.

“You wouldn’t know her. She likes her privacy and used to only work in the shadows,” he explained as he cast his eyes down.

Marx observed his melancholic demeanor. Why does speaking of her make him feel so down?

“What’s her name, sir?” Julius’s eyes flicked up. “Her name?” He steeled himself for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on. “It’s Aika Tolliver.”

His eyes immediately widened in recognition.

“M-Madam Tolliver?”

Julius cocked his head at him. Madam?

“Yes? Do you know her?”

“Yes, my older brother used to be the head of communications in her company.” His voice wavered as he clenched his fists. “He was recently promoted to president. But why would she be a consultant to the Wizard King?!”

Julius was taken aback by all that he had just told him. Marx spoke very rarely of his estranged brother, Karl, and he never knew that Aika knew him. And what exactly does he mean why she was a consultant to him?

“What do you mean by that, Marx?”

“Sir, she has a bad reputation for using forbidden magic,” He whispered urgently.

Julius stared at him blankly.

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes. A Wizard King sometimes needs a licensed forbidden-magic user to deal with some unsavory things. She is also an amazing strategist and has experience in warfare for reasons I am still unaware. ” He added quietly as he picked at his quill. “We’ve talked for hours about a lot of things.” A lot of things indeed. “And I know she will be crucial in the future.”

Marx was about to object again but quieted at the stern look Julius gave him. He sighed as he clenched his fists by his sides, his light blue hair tickling his cheeks as he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“I will try to keep an open mind, sir.”

“Thank you, Marx.” He looked down at the papers, his smile falling. “I will see if I could introduce you tomorrow. I’m assuming you haven’t met her properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that’s settled.”

He stood there quietly as he watched Julius sign a paper with a flourish. Marx knew the man a lot better than most people and he knew that Julius would be ecstatic that he was finally the Wizard King and maybe even goof off a bit but right now, he was much too somber.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Julius looked up, surprised he was still here. He was far too lost in his thoughts. He opened his mouth and stopped. Marx didn’t need to know about Aika. He rubbed the back of his head as he forced his best natural laugh.

��Yeah, of course I’m fine, Marx! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you would usually be more excited on finally achieving your ambitions and…you wouldn’t be working…”

…He’s right.

“Well, I have simply realized the weight of my new title and I suppose that is what is making me more serious.” That technically wasn’t a lie. Julius mentally patted himself on the back for that.

Marx grinned, a giddy sort of feeling washing over him.

“Does this mean you will finally be serious about your paperwork, sir?!”

That was not what he meant.

“Wait, no!” Marx’s expression fell. “I mean yes! Of course I will do my paperwork!” His advisor’s face could not look any more disappointed. He quickly needed to change the subject before he got lectured again. “Speaking of paperwork, I think I will feel motivated to do it if I’m in a better setting like a study, you know? There’s a Wizard King’s study and it’s desk is longer and faces the windows so I would have an amazing view to keep me energized. And I would also be surrounded by a lot of books and I would feel so studious and motivated!”

That seemed to have caught Marx’s attention. He had never heard of study. “I would like to show it to you tomorrow and we could both explore it. Does that sound good?”

“But sir, you have to tour the squad bases and then you have to hold your first meeting with all the Captains—”

“We will explore the study after that, okay?”

“But then, there’s a lot of paperwork that—”

“Marx,” Julius addressed him patiently as he held his gaze. “Taking breaks is important, you know?”

“And all you want to take are breaks, sir,” Marx replied with an imperceptible roll of his eyes.

Julius laughed.

“I promise I will be productive!” – Aika threw her crimson cloak on, a cloak she had worn since her days with Mereoleona. She quickly examined her trousers for any odd wrinkles and stacked the needed papers for a meeting she had in 20 minutes.

She felt much, much better after speaking to Ellie, Evan and Jayce and Julius seemed like the type to be more casual about such things and not let them get in the way of work. She was rather worried it might because her Uncle told her that Julius gets distracted easily. She couldn’t meet up with him and talk today because she would be occupied, especially since she accepted Lord Silva’s invitation for tea.

Aika reached for her communicator to call for Ellie, but she tensed and quickly pointed her daggers at the person who teleported into the study.

“Mom!”

Her shoulders slackened and a tired smile softened her face as she dropped to crouch. Aika enveloped Holly in a tight hug as she giggled. She loved how her daughter smelled like roses and apples, though they smell the same. She pulled back and pressed light kisses on her cheeks and smiled indulgently.

“Hello, Holly. You are here to spend time at the CLK base right?”

“Yeah! Uncle Fueggy said I could play with the lions and I thought I should congratulate him for becoming captain too! I made biscuits and wore my crimson cloak.” She spun on her heel, showing it off.

“That’s really nice of you dear.” Holly led her mother to the sofas and motioned her to sit down. “Did you make any for me?” She murmured, amused as Holly climbed into her lap and made her wrap her arms around her tiny frame.

“I hoped to give you the leftovers if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine but what if there are no leftovers,” Aika asked, fake hurt lacing her voice.

“I have a plan to make sure there’s leftovers. Don’t worry, Mom,” Holly grinned and sighed contentedly into her mother’s chest. Aika looked down at her curiously, gently rubbing her hair.

“May I know what the plan is?”

“You really want to know?”

Aika let out a short laugh. Only her children could ever sass her like this and get away with it and she must admit, it was very refreshing.

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“Okay, so if Uncle Fueggy didn’t like them too much, you will have some left over. Obviously. But if he liked them and wanted to keep them, and give them to his squad or something, I’ll be like ‘I was going to save some for my mom, but oh well. I’m glad you liked them.’ And then he would feel really guilty and leave some anyways,” she finished with a proud smile.

Aika pursed her lips, tamping down the laughter bubbling in her chest. Holly caught this and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Is something wrong, Mom?”

“No…” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Have you simply thought of maybe just giving me one biscuit to taste or maybe simply telling Fuegoleon to save some for me?”

“What.”

“Yes, I mean it doesn’t have to be that convoluted because Fuegoleon is polite and wouldn’t say no to that and even simpler, giving me one biscuit now would be the simplest solution,” she explained with a laugh.

“Oh.” Holly buried her face in the crook of her neck in embarrassment. “You’re right.”

Aika laughed quietly as she rubbed Holly’s back. No one could make her feel as young and light as her daughter could and she absolutely loved her for it.

Holly peeked at the window between her mother’s arms to check the time. The moment she saw or felt the sun, she could instantly tell what the time was. But she let her jaw fall slightly when she saw an anti-bird perched on the lap. She had never seen one so close.

“Mom, is that a…” She pointed at the bird. Aika followed her gaze and found that the little bird from last night still here.

“Yes, that’s an anti-bird, but it also seems to be an anomaly.”

“Oh, you mean it doesn’t run away from us like other anti-birds?”

“I mean that bird is still avoiding me but seems perfectly fine with others.”

“Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to study how an anti-bird reacts to magic then?”

“What? No! It’s an anomaly so it doesn’t behave like other birds so it’s useless to study it, Holly”

“What about studying the anti-bird for its biology through the possession technique?”

The possession technique is a forbidden magic spell used in the study of animals to possess them and view how the world was from their perspective including the five senses and what instincts activate in any given situation etc. Possession magic only works on other species so a human cannot possess another human unless an attribute explicitly allows that.

People have tried to use a possession spell on an anti-bird before but like the North and South repel each other, anti-birds have shown to dodge magic at abnormal speeds when magic was thrown at them even in containment. The ongoing theory was that anti-birds actually feel some measure of pain, most probably a lot, the presence of or when in contact with magic.

“An anti-bird’s biology was already studied by people with less magic and it’s no different than a normal bird’s. You don’t have to worry about it—”

The door leading from the Wizard King’s office clicked open. Aika paused as her heart skipped a few beats when she glimpsed the blond hair before the door revealed to the Wizard King in all his glory. She could never get used to that strange yet commanding-looking cloak he wore.

Julius met her gaze and they were lost for words for a few moments. Last night seemed like a fever dream compared to the clarity brought by the daylight. His eyes flickered down to Holly who broke the silence. “Good Morning, Julius!”

Notes: Holly actually plays a bigger role than intended👀👀

#demons run #julius novachrono #marx francois #oc: aika tolliver #julius x reader #julius novachrono x reader #julius novachrono x oc #demons run chapter 10

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