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btswishes · 4 years

Text

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 1 )

Part1 / Next

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: This is my first Marvel fic and I am taking it as a challenge. It is opposite of what my account was made, but here I go. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Word count: 3,281

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

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Through sleepless nights and dark circles, books and pens, through months of work you reached your goal. The moment you received the acceptance letter from Stark University you almost flew out the window without a fear in your mind. This was it!

Time had passed since that moment, but it is still engraved in your mind- a memory keeping you strong during the hard midterms and piles of work, even the small glimmers of regret. Trying your best wasn’t an option, you could do only that and no less. It was no easy task, lost social life as much as you tried to keep it. You were really lucky you had good friends that understood and supported you. University wasn’t easy for anyone making this one even tougher. People of all ages, backgrounds and cultures were piled up with you in this building. The best of the best as the slogan said, the ones that proved themselves and emerged victorious.

When you were young ,you used to spend a lot of time with your uncle at his places outside the country. He would introduce you to his work colleagues and things you had never seen before. There was a time where you would spend months on end with him. Not many memories were left from those moments in your head. At one point you spend a few years with him, your mother thought it would be good experience for you and it turned out to be nothing but the truth-at least you hoped so. You learned a lot from him and his friends, it felt like each spend day would offer you more knowledge in areas you never knew of. Computer work, ways of thinking and so much more that had become second nature to you.

The sky was tinted in a wash of oranges, reds and yellows bleeding one into the other, swirling around the sun emitting them. The day was ending, but you found yourself filling up an application in the library, covered by the silence and smell of exam worry.

Sponsored and founded by the one and only Tony Stark, this establishment offered an internship. Being part of the Avengers, Tony didn’t let just anyone from the students attending in, even if they were the best labeled by the school. It had been a year and a half since you started pushing yourself harder to be able to apply and there was nothing that could stop you. Pressing your finger over the enter button was very nerve wrecking yet simple. Even if it didn’t work out this year, you planned to do it again and again ,till he had no other choice but give you a chance.

Usually F.R.I.D.A.Y. went over everything and left only the applications worth going over by Tony himself or Pepper. The next 5 weeks for you were very stressful, but there was nothing more you could do but wait and focus on your own work. The first person you wanted to tell about this was your uncle. He went to work in some distant place where they had no internet so you switched to mail. Not as much paper under his name passed through your hands, as he had stopped answering you. You missed him, but the muddy childhood memories kind of compensated for that.

“Did you send it in?” the phone muffled a bit the sweet voice coming from the speaker

“Yeah, a few days ago actually.” You answered with a gentle sigh

“And no answer yet?” the girl’s pitch rose at the end of the sentence, amazed at that what she just heard

“I know, I know. Think about it though Nea. Who knows how many applications get submitted. Someone has to brush through them after all.” defending the situation was a form of coping for you, made you feel hopeful.

“So you are trying to tell me Tony Stark’s interface or whatever it’s called, can’t sort them out in a couple of hours? Come on Y/N! You and I both know you are trying to make yourself feel better.” The small pause made you anxious over what Nea said “Listen.” A breathy start of the sentence “ I don’t mean to brag, but I think I am one of the people who know exactly how much you deserve this. You were never the studious type, plus that you were gone for years on end with that mysterious uncle of yours. I never expected you to suddenly go for Stark University. Your dream changed you, from this quiet kid to crazy ol’ you right now on the call with me.I ain’t letting you bust yourself up over this just because it didn’t happen the first time around-”

Ding ding

Nea’s deep speech was cut off before she could unleash herself completely, by the slight ring of your phone’s notification.

“Who tf has the audacity to text while the great me is giving this legendary –“

Ding!

The second time the sound sung out made her choke up with anger, you could almost see the fumes coming out of the phone.

“WHO IS IT!” a loud hiss pierced your ear

“Maybe if you gave me a minute I could answer your question.” Pulling the call down, your finger ran over the screen to the email, making your notification lamp blink like a car. Almost instantly it opened before your eyes and you gasped. The action made you swallow suddenly and cough out a bit ,giving poor Nea an idea about the level of shock you were in.

“What?What? You can’t just almost die and not tell me what is going on.” She proceeded with a not so tasteful interrogation.

“I-…they accepted my application…” at the end a small smile flowed over your lips contorting the sound coming out

“Stop!?” she choked up as well “You gotta be fucking with me!? No fucking way this is real!”

“I am honest. It says here that they liked my skill set, my grades and the way of thinking I presented in my essay. I got the spot Nea! I fucking did it!” you threw the phone on the bed letting it bounce as you started dancing.

“Of course you did! I told you! You will be working with THE AVENGERSSSS!” at some point it sounded like your best friend was more excited than you “When do you start?”

“Well…” taking a second to calm down and re-establish contact with your phone, you looked up the schedule that came attached with the email “…ok…so it says here that I will be starting on Monday so~ in 2 days? “

“So soon! Any requirements for the job miss Avenger’s sidekick?” and the teasing begins

“A list, surprisingly.” Rolling onto your back, you held the screen away and above your face, scrolling past “ I guess my first job will be with Dr. Banner in the lab. Apparently I will be given some sort of assignments throughout the 5 months work span. I will be monitored by Dr. Bruce Banner and the grading, I guess if you can call It that ,will be done by Tony Stark himself.”

“Basically Hulk will be your babysitter.” once this girl starts teasing she never stops even in amazing situations such as this one, good thing you loved her “That sounds so cool though! You will be able to meet Captain America and Black Widow~! I am so jelly of you I swear! When you leave work make sure to wait for someone from the group to walk by, omgggg I am fangirling so much right now.What if you go to dinners with them!?AAAAA!”

“Fun thing about that.” Your eyes landed on the last paragraph of the email “It says here that I am supposed to move into the compound and stay there till further notice. The whole idea is that if I do things well I will get a permanent job. Weird…” you hummed

“Weird !? How? That is so cool! Who knows you might even become an Avenger! You will be living with them anyways.” at this point Nea was either not breathing or hyperventilating so fast you couldn’t hear it

“Don’t be ridiculous.” your attention landed once more on the thought process you had a moment ago “I don’t get one thing. They say here that my PE grades combined with my IT and overall studies make me a great candidate, but I don’t remember sports being a requirement at all, or even providing them in the first place. Does it mean that if my grades were low in that department I wouldn’t have gotten the spot?”

“I guess people of science aren’t that flexible. Who cares anyways! You got in, no ifs and buts. I am telling you, at this point you could be an Avenger.” poor girl began thinking of names and suit designs for you “ Hurry up and pack those bags before I drop by with take away, so we can gossip over Steve Rogers’s abs.”

“Um…don’t get me wrong he is super hot, I just see the Cap more like an older brother figure than anything.” It was true, you looked up to him since the first time you studied about the Civil War. Fearless, gave his life in a way for his people, astonishing man over all.

“Hey! Let me drool over him! You were always more of a Winter Soldier fan anyways.” Nea pouted audibly . Her words made some lone memory pop up in your head, but it was as murky as the rest. “I don’t know why I am interested in him. Somehow his look is very nostalgic and rugged. Anyways. ”you shook your head out of the mental image of the soldier “I will go pack up, tell my parents and fix up all my documents. Probably find some stuff from former Stark employees online. I want to have a bit of an idea of what he expects and what I am getting myself into.”

“Fine fine, you could have just said you like troubled guys. You were the one who was happy Loki got a second chance after all. I will be over in like 3 hours.” She informed you

“Hey! He deserved to redeem himself, he was used!” a firm Loki supporter as always “Ok then, see ya.”

Hanging up the call you placed your phone to charge and rolled off your bed. The email gave vague information about what you needed, but clothing wise you would still be able to come home and get stuff if you had to. What was on top of your priorities were papers, documents, all your research materials and tech. Those things had to be organized no matter what ,since they got you this far in the first place.

Nae came over as planned and you two had a nice sleepover talking about you know who. The night came and left, letting the morning find you in your bed at 11am. Your forearm rested on top of your forehead in a relaxed manner, letting enough space for an exhale to linger in the air in front of you. Your mind was going over everything that was about to happen to you. It was one of your dreams, you worked for it nonstop day in day out, so why were you so worried about meeting the rest of the Avengers? Maybe it was just anxiety or fear of the unknown, yeah made sense.

All you did during the day was make lists for every piece of tech you were binging with yourself. Things seemed to be in order, but worry kept nibbling on your bones. The moment of truth finally rolled up and so did your suitcase in front of your house. Nea came to send you off as she promised.

“Sweetie, make sure to call us every day. Eat well, don’t overwork yourself and-“ your mom went off with caution about anything and everything that came to mind

“Mom, you know I am going 3 blocks down from here right? Plus I can come home at any time I want to. I am not moving to Mars or getting arrested.” You smirked the panic away from her, giving them a big hug.

“Call me or text me when you get there.” Nea pulled you in, whispering in your ear as quietly as possible “And don’t forget to sneak me a booty pick of good ol’Cap. You know what they say-”

“That is America’s ass.” Your voice came out in a mocking tone

“That i-…let me at least finish it by myself! Geez!” she pushed you towards the door “Ok ok, go now before you spoil me something else” her arms crossed in front of her chest

The walk wasn’t that long, you were too invested in your own thoughts to notice when the time and distance had passed. The glistening windows of the compound building shined into your eyes. Your lungs filled up with a breath that they kept in for a moment, before releasing it back in the outside world. Pulling out the documents you stepped in. The fresh smelling air hit you making you close one eye for a second.

People were walking around you fast and concentrated. Some looked in a hurry, others were on break with a cup of coffee and a strain-leaving expression.

Your feet, as slightly shaky as they were, took you right up to the front desk were a lady with a dark rich red colored uniform looked at you. She flashed a professional smile, her eyes asking for your purpose.

“Um, hello. My name is Y/N -Y/L/N.” she saw the logo on your papers and gasped

“You must be the new intern Mr. Stark told us about.” She signed something and reached out “Can you give me your hand for a second.” Your fingers didn’t go past the surface of the desk when she pocked your skin. Pulling in your extremity, your palm wrapped around the spot that began to sting a bit “Don’t worry about it. This is your identification pass. Fancy, no?” she smiled winking. Her body stood up as she pointed at the elevator far in the back of the foyer.

Instructions were given with each step of the way, calming your nerves a bit. The moment you found yourself inside the elevator she pulled your hand to the sensor on the wall next to the buttons.

Recognized: Code 2514. Welcome Miss Y/N

Your head shot up when F.R.I.D.Y.’s voice echoed in the small space. The women smiled giving you a small nod and stepped out of the vicinity. Once her body was outside ,the doors slid closed. Over them glowed a protective blue light layering over the material like a soft veil.

It felt like you weren’t moving an inch. Your body flinched when the sun stung at your eyes from the window. Your gaze landed over the view of the city, as you went higher and higher, ascending into the clouds The blues and yellows were covering the inside of the elevator, such vibrant and lovely colors warming your body. For a moment your heart felt heavy- lost memory tugged onto it again. An often occurrence lately, yet you kept brushing off as deja vu.

Floor 134. Welcome to the Avenger’s compound Miss Y/N

“134!?” the numbers cracked out with your voice. The interface made you turn towards the opposite opening doors revealing a room as big as a hall, if not almost a stadium. The ceiling was high being the lid to this round area. Your heart beat increased pumping blood to your body, dilating your pupils at least twice their original size. It look amazing, almost like you had just entered heaven. The walls were white, the furniture was perfectly placed and cream colored. Stepping outside you jumped at the sound of the elevator doors closing behind you.

“Wow” escaped your lips, your hand pulling the suitcase closer. So this was the common room or the shared space. The windows were so big they were practically a wall of their own. The bright rays were making themselves at home giving the white paint a new color with each passing minute. The ceilings were probably the equivalent of 3 floors in height. There was this weird feeling of home inside, a bit of isolation maybe mixed in.

“Miss Y/N?” your head swung to the side when you recognized that shy but bright smile. Throwing the papers on top of your suitcase, you extended your arm at the man.

“Ah.” Good thing your mind automatically responds politely to people without you giving it much thought “Dr. Banner. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” you shook his hand gently a couple of times and let go ,finding the papers and showing them to him “My name is Y/N-Y/L/N.” gentle bow and a smile followed the words skillfully chosen

“Welcome Welcome. Tony is out right now so I might be the only one actively walking around the compound. Well…”he scratched the back of his neck, lightly hunching over with a sheepish smile “I am one of the people you will be working under anyways, so I guess it is good that I came to get you. I would love to show you the lab, but I am sure you would like to set up your things first.” You nodded and he showed you to your room. The corridor had 3 tall doors scattered on the walls, all looking modern and elegant.

“This is the side where usually we have our female members. Natasha and Wanda will be your nextdoor neighbors. Hope it won’t be any trouble.” Bruce looked at you ,when an aggressive shake took over your neck

“No, no. Not at all sir. I am very grateful to have such amazing heroes next to me. As a matter of fact won’t they be troubled with me here?” and here came the normal anxiety that you had for everything

“I am sure they will like you. Don’t worry about it.” Bruce stepped next to the door and waved you over “You don’t have a key or a door handle as a matter of fact. Tony’s idea, don’t ask. If you got up here on your own I assume he made the girls downstairs give you an identification implant. That is basically your entrance for everything here. Kind of an Avengers thing.” You nodded and him wiggling his fingers like a spell. Placing your hand on the door like he told you activated F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Recognized: Y/N. Access and ownership granted.

The metal frame slid open and you found yourself standing before a big room. It was nicely furnished. The desk was big enough for you to work on it and have everything around. Bookshelves empty and ready to be used on your left and a large bed on your right flush against the wall. The window was once more its own wall right in front of you standing behind the desk. The bathroom door was opening a space before the shelf the same color as the paint in the common room.

“I will let you set up. If you need anything F.R.I.D.A.Y. is always here. The room is interactive, you can ask exactly what works under the interface’s control. The door is one.Take your time.”he was on his way out “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“I would like some tea, thank you very much.” Bruce flashed you a smile “F.R.I.D.A.Y. the door please.”

Door closed

Done as said and requested, clicking behind you.

Would you like an extensive list of my functions as an assistant?

“Please do.”

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butmakeitgayblog · 4 years

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Demon!AU Snippet

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After much deliberation and help from my merry band of short bottoms, here's the decidedly most PG rated snippet I could find, enjoy? Hopefully?

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"Oop, hot delivery girl, incoming," Raven whispered, a devious smile stretching over her face.

"Wha-"

Clarke jumped slightly at the quiet thud beside her, eyes swinging around to take in the brilliant pink box now sitting squarely in the middle of her desk. Before she could react, a grey skirt covered hip slid just over the edge of her desk, nudging aside her nameplate and outgoing stack of mail to create an impromptu seat.

"Morning, gorgeous."

She barely bit back a groan at the voice.

Raven grinned, leaning forward on her elbows and looking up at the woman now perched on Clarke's desk. "Well, good morning to you too, Lexa."

Perfect.

Clarke tried her hardest to stay focused on her annoyance at Lexa having such a brazen disregard for things such as personal spaces and belongings and the entirety of office etiquette, pushing down the thoughts of how well that satin burgundy shirt hugged every last one of her curves.

Cheeks pinking in failure, she compromised and settled on averting her eyes to the safety of her computer.

"Oh, morning. Did you do something with your hair, Reyes?" Lexa questioned, reaching out right across Clarke's screen to gently tug on one of Raven's flowing locks. "Sexy. Looks good."

Sighing in resignation at the obviousness of Lexa's antics, Clarke stopped typing and flopped back silently in her chair, feeling that typical flare of anger. Because who did that? Who does this? Who just sits themselves down on top of a veritable stranger's desk and starts flirting with their coworker? Who practically shoves their ass in someone's face just to sweet talk and charm someone who is distinctly not the work area's owner?

"I did," Raven said, breaking through her silent tirade with pleased smile tinting her features. "Got it trimmed over the weekend and got an oil treatment. Thank you for noticing."

Feeling a pinch to her arm Clarke grunted a soft, "Ow," sucking in a breath as she rubbed the injured area and glared at her friend. "I'm sorry, okay? I told you I had a rough morning."

"Oh, no. What happened? Bad dreams?" Lexa frowned, tucking a wisp of blonde behind Clarke's ear before pulling back. "Or good dreams?

Blue eyes flew up to the face obviously fighting a smile, an unreadable glint coloring the hooded gaze looking back.

Sucking in a breath at the insanely inappropriateness of that, at feeling somehow Lexa was currently seeing every flash of their torrid dreamtime coupling that was currently flying through her mind at that very moment. Clarke coughed out a quiet choking sound before clearing her throat with a shake of her head. "No," she stated, adjusting in her chair at the tick of a brunette brow and adding firmly, "and no... I'm fine."

Turning back to see her coworker smirking and glancing between them, Clarke narrowed her eyes and pointedly continued. "And I would've noticed eventually, Raven. It's been like five minutes since you sat down."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Lexa noticed at least," Raven flicked her wrist in dismal. "Who needs you?"

"Rave-"

"Ignore her, Clarke," she heard as slim fingers slowly turned her head forward and up, finding a heated grin zeroed in on her. "I need you."

The altogether too intimate touch and tone was gone before she could even begin to process it as Lexa casually moved to open the box beside her, flipping the top and continuing as though nothing had happened.

"Anyway, I had a craving this morning and couldn't stop myself, but I definitely went a little overboard. Figured I'd share."

Breathable oxygen still very much an issue after the gentle handling and warm words, Clarke dazedly looked down to see a small array of sweets.

"Oh my God," Raven moaned, pitching forward over the span of their desks to look through the variety of cupcakes with eagle-eyed precision. "Have I ever mentioned I love you, Lexa?"

"Buttercream can have that effect on people," Lexa hummed, leaning a palm down to support her weight as she practically lazed back across Clarke's desk. "Help yourself. Just leave the-"

"I know, I know," Raven rolled her eyes, fingers already lifting a chocolate and caramel monstrosity out of the box and bringing it to her mouth.

Snapping out of her reverie, Clarke drew in a quick breath and tsked at her deskmate as she sat back down. "It's like eight in the morning, Raven."

"So?" she muffled through a face full of cupcake.

"Technically, it's 8… 22," Lexa unhelpfully supplied, checking and then double checking the gleaming white gold watch sat neatly on her wrist. Clarke watched a slim finger drag through the chocolate of one of the cupcakes in a slow swoop. "Everyone knows you're allowed to sin after 8am."

"That makes no sense whatsoever," Clarke frowned, her focus now centered entirely on the woman draped over her work area.

"Trust me, Clarke," Lexa assured in a whisper while bringing the frosting covered fingertip to her mouth. Full red lips wrapped around the sugary digit before sliding it back out clean. "I'm an expert."

With that Lexa hopped up, legs swinging out in a graceful swoop as she lifted herself back onto the ground and hands slid over her chest in a show of straightening out the delicate fabrics of her clothes. Clarke valiantly tried not to watch how the slick material bunched and tugged in all the right places, a small inner voice chastising herself when the only coherent thoughts were of the fit and cut of her outfit.

It was annoying how everything seemed to fit like it was made for no other body than Lexa's own.

"Raven, I have a meeting at 11 that I need you to push back to 3," Lexa said as she finished her preening and collected her confectionery haul. "Charles wants to go over the contracts for a new client so I'll probably be busy dealing with kissing his ass until lunch."

"You got it, boss lady," Raven nodded, immediately turning to her computer at the instruction. "Not that I believe for a second you kiss anyone's ass around here."

"Oh, there's one or two," Lexa hummed, actually having the nerve to openly let her eyes trail over to Clarke for a moment, throwing in a final wink before sauntering away and leaving Clarke to her ruddy cheeked stupor.

Traitorously her eyes followed after, watching the hitch and sway of rounded hips and long legs as they glided through the office in high, pristine heels. Strong yet slim shoulders flexed with the confident swing of toned arms as she walked like she owned everyone within sight. The dip of her back looked so good wrapped in the smooth material of her blouse, its color and texture seeming almost liquid in the sunlight that slanted through the tall office windows; its smooth deep color spilling over the curve of her firm, full, squeezable looking-

"You need some alone time with that view?"

"What?" Clarke startled, head snapping back around to see her wickedly grinning friend as she carelessly took another bite of her treat.

"You looked like you were trying to get her pregnant with that stare."

"That-... No. Shut up. I wasn't even-... Shut up."

"Articulate. But what I don't understand is why you act like such an angry virgin every time she's around," Raven said, thoroughly ignoring the horrified look that stretched over Clarke's face. "I mean the girl comes up with the dumbest excuses to come talk to you, and you barely ever say two words. At least none that aren't hostile."

"She doesn't though," Clarke argued despite Raven's dubious look. "She came here to flirt with you. 'Ooo Raven, your hair's so sexy'," she mimicked in a nasally voice, dodging the free hand slapping her away as she moved to caress Raven's admittedly beautiful black tendrils. "Besides her being an HR ticking time bomb with how obvious she is, you're married for God's sake."

"You're so dumb. She didn't come here to flirt with me, dude. She came to give you that," Raven laughed and shook her head, reaching over to tap a finger on Clarke's desk.

Clarke followed her line of sight, face scrunching up in surprised confusion at noticing the perfectly placed red and white cupcake sitting on the front edge of her desk.

"Haven't you ever noticed whenever she 'accidentally' gets too many cupcakes, miraculously and mysteriously there's one red velvet in there? And it always miraculously and mysteriously ends up in your very own little combative ass hands?" Raven asked, rolling her eyes at Clarke's disgruntled look of dawning realization. "Homegirl sure as hell doesn't know my favorite flavor, I take what I can get."

"... I guarantee you, it's a coincidence," Clarke said immediately busied herself with fixing the arrangement of her work belongings. "Lexa's… I don't even know what. But thoughtful or kind or whatever the hell everyone here seems to think, isn't one of them."

"What has she ever done to you? Why do you dislike her so much?" Raven asked.

"How do you not? She's so… I mean how does no one else see it? She's insanely unprofessional, and says just the, ugh. The things that come out of her mouth. She flirts with everything in a skirt and bosses people around who've been here for years. Besides, haven't you noticed all the weird stuff that's happened?"

"Clarke, we're a startup marketing firm that caters to millennials. Of course there's weird shit going on around here. It's a circus filled with idiots."

"No," Clarke said firmly. "You don't get it, you weren't here before she got here. Things were quiet and fine at the old building and now everything's crazy. Contracts always going missing, John literally just disappeared one day-"

"You realize he probably just quit."

"The whole office has this weird vibe now," she continued on a roll. "I have never seen so many mess ups and freak accidents in an office building of all places before in my life. And she's always just… there."

Raven just stared at her with a blank look of boredom, slowly chewing a bite of her cupcake before swallowing and shaking her head. "Again. You realize everything you described sounds normal for a company who's recently expanded, right? Personnel turnover, paperwork mistakes, general growing pains as they adjust? And you're blaming her for that? When she's literally been nothing but nice to both of us?"

"She just… rubs me the wrong way."

"I think your issue is wanting her to rub you the right way."

Clarke scoffed in an overwhelming show of disgust, ignoring the swoop of her stomach to needlessly re-straighten the pile papers in her hands before carelessly tossing them aside. "You've lost your mind if you think I could even think about her like that. I've seen the way she looks at other people around here, believe me, she's not all sunshine and cupcakes. There's something up with her... Besides, she's annoying. And cocky. You guys treat her like she's God's gift but in reality she's just another asshat lawyer who thinks she's the master of the universe… And she's not even that pretty."

Clarke hadn't meant to go on such a vitriolic vomit of words but it was hard sometimes having to listen to the endless poetic waxing of the woman's praises. It just never stopped, and Clarke genuinely couldn't understand how not one single other person seemed to be able to see through Lexa's bullshit. Her pompousness and irritatingly smooth talking at every interaction. Like somehow her taking the time to figure out Clarke's favorite cupcake and going to the trouble of buying it for her… and hand delivering it to her desk… could or should somehow make up for the salaciousness of her smirk.

"Hey, Clarke?" she heard beside her after a moment.

"What?" she breathed, trying not to let her frazzled nerves get the best of her as she faced Raven with expectant annoyance.

"Can you turn this way?... Now do this," Raven asked, tilting her own head this way and that as her eyes roved over Clarke's face from different angles.

"Why?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm just thinking about what contouring would work best with your clown makeup, you gigantic fucking liar."

She easily ducked the halfheartedly slap Clarke aimed at her shoulder before carelessly tossing her empty wrapper in the bin between them and swiveling to resume tapping at her keyboard.

"I'm just saying," Raven continued, "you're fooling no one with that act. You'd have to be blind not to see how attractive that woman is. I'm happily married and even I don't exactly mind watching her shake her ass past your desk fifty-some-odd times a day. She's a hottie with a body, Clarke. Everyone, including you, can see that."

"You're as bad as she is. And I'm telling your wife you said that."

"Bold of you to assume I haven't said it to her myself... Granted, it was in the context of me wanting you two to just knock boots already, but she's aware I work with eye candy and she doesn't care. My lady knows I'm faithful, I can eye-fuck whoever I want."

"You and Anya defy all sense of reasonable relationship standards."

"That was part of the deal," Raven hummed, clearly becoming more distracted as she leaned closer to her screen and focusing on her work.

Sighing deeply at the apparent dismissal, Clarke resigned herself to the day as she clicked back into the long list of emails waiting for her… and begrudgingly took a bite of her cupcake.

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More soon 😈

#demon!lexa #clexa #lexa x clarke #clexa fanfic #it's still rough be gentle

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padfootagain · 4 years

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A Very Rose Mistake (VII)

Part 7: How A Mistake Was Made

Here we go for a new chapter!! You're finally going to understand where the title of this series comes from!!

I warn you, this is angsty. The flashback is angsty. Sorry… you'd better get some tissue before diving into this!

I hope you like it all the same! Lots of explanation here again thanks to the flashback! The next chapter will be more about the present days again.

I hope you like this! Don't forget to tell me what you think about it, I most definitely need a little help to write these days!

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 5951 (sorry it's a bit long)

Holmes Chapel, 2011

It was Valentine's Day. He was 17 and his world was changing at a speed he couldn't comprehend.

It was great, for the most part. It was completely crazy, actually: he was making an album. He was going to sing and travel around the world. How mad was that?

When he had left Holmes Chapel, he thought he would be back in a week. Maybe two. It would be a fun thing to discuss with you. How mad it was. How weird the whole experience had been, but let's be honest, he was only 16 and he wasn't mature enough for anything as big as this. He would slip back under his covers in his bedroom, and you would cuddle together while watching stupid videos on youtube that made you have this loud and uncontrollable laughter, and you would hide the bag of chocolates you had smuggled into his room when Anne would climb up the stairs.

But he didn't come home at all.

Instead, he went through the whole show, and after the X-factor was done, he was pushed into London City. It had been almost a year, and you had barely seen him.

It was strange to walk the same streets without him. It was strange to not have him sitting next to you in class anymore. It was strange to not go to his house after school every night and eat with him and Gemma while watching some dumb show on TV. It was strange not having him pushing you around on the way to school whenever you weren't quite awake yet.

And the truth was, it was unbearable almost, the way you missed him.

The hurricane he had been caught into was just as strange for him than it was for you, and he missed you just as much as you missed him.

And this shift in your relationship that had appeared right before he would leave had been on hold ever since.

You had almost kissed that evening. If Anne had not opened the front door right at that moment, you would have kissed. And as he was to leave the next day, he didn't bring the moment you had shared again. He reckoned that he ought to tell you how he felt face to face.

He wasn't quite sure what it meant yet being in love with someone, but he reckoned that if he had to give a definition, he would have given your name as an answer.

He was a little lost, and he wasn't sure of how he felt exactly, because he had never experienced anything like it before, but what he was certain about was that he wanted to explore whatever this was. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to cuddle with you and hold you tight and peck your nose. He wanted to be close to you all the time, it drove him insane.

And when he had been given the opportunity to go home for Valentine's day, he believed in a sign.

You couldn't come to celebrate his birthday in London, so you had promised to spend the weekend with him whenever he would come. And it started tonight.

Harry checked his reflection in the mirror of his old bedroom one last time, straightening the collar of his white shirt under his jersey. A red rose was resting on his bed, and he checked once again that the leaves had not suffered from the lack of water during the past 15 minutes. But they were not wilted, and he looked with satisfaction at the flower.

Romantic. Perfect. Because tonight was the night when he would ask you to be his girlfriend.

And if he were honest, he found that this prospect was scarier than walking on that stage for the first time and sing before a jury.

What if you said no?

But he pushed the thought away. Because that night, a year ago, you had almost kissed him too.

But a year had passed...

Yes, a year had passed, but he was certain that you didn't have a boyfriend. You hadn't mentioned anything to him or to Gemma, and that meant that you were single. He wasn't in Holmes Chapel anymore, but he was still your best friend.

Hopefully, that would change tonight though.

He walked down the stairs with his rose in his shaky hand. Anne eyed him from the living room, pretending to watch TV. When he struggled to arrange the collar of his black winter coat though, his mother couldn't help but walk over to him. She gently pushed his hands away and fumbled with the soft material until it was folded just the right way. She gave her son an encouraging smile and pinched his cheek affectionately.

"Good luck."

"I think I'm gonna throw up," he admitted, before turning to the door.

"It's only Y/N. It'll be fine," Anne encouraged him.

She crossed her fingers for him and he reciprocated the gesture before walking out of the house and into the cold air.

The wind bit down on his cheeks, making them flushed and painful. He ignored the sensation though, and hurried down the path and towards your house.

How many times had he walked this same path leading to your house? Thousands and thousands of times, without a doubt...

It was the evening already, and February coming with its shorter days, it was already pitch-black outside. It had snowed that morning, and the grass and pavement all around the street were covered with half-melted ice. The rooftops were of an immaculate white, although the lampposts scattered down the lane were barely enough to show them. The clouds of the morning had cleared through the afternoon, and the night sky was stained with pale stars. The moon though was nowhere to be seen.

And for the first time in twelve years, he was nervous as he knocked on your front door, the same red paint that had always been there, chipped at the corners and a little diluted by the sun.

You were quick to open the door, and Harry could have sworn that he was having a heart-attack as he saw you again.

You were wearing a simple pair of blue jeans and a warm sweater. Simple. Comfy. The most adorable sight he had ever seen

You were even more beautiful than the last time he had seen you for real... how were you even human at this point?

"Hi, Y/N..."

But he was cut short as you threw yourself at him, sure that he would catch you. And he did, he always did.

You both laughed, your nerves slowly dissolving as you held each other tight.

"Harry!"

"It's me," he nodded, chuckling some more.

"I've missed you so much... I can't believe you're here!"

"I've missed you too. So much!"

"You have so much stuff to tell me. And I have too. You'll never guess who Jeremy ended up with."

"Jeremy? With Ashley?"

"With Leila."

"What?! No way!" He exclaimed, pulling away just enough to look up at you as he was still carrying you, your legs now wrapped around him like a koala.

You nodded with shock all over your features.

"You'll tell me everything. I need to know what kind of drama could have unfolded to lead to these two getting together."

He pressed his face into your neck again, right where it belonged, and you closed your eyes as his warm breath hit your skin softly, a vivid contrast with the cold air of the early evening.

Finally, he gently put you back down, feeling that you were starting to shiver in the cold weather.

And at last, you noticed that he was holding a rose in his hand. You looked up at him questioningly, and Harry was certain that he was going to either throw up or pass out then.

He opened his mouth to offer to go inside to talk because it was awfully cold outside, when someone new appeared on the threshold.

And Harry froze.

It was a boy. Around your age. He had never seen him before.

Who…? What…?

"Oh, Harry, this is Joel! Jo, this is Harry!"

Jo?!

"Hi, man!" Joel shook Harry's hand.

"Hi."

Who was that guy, and what was he doing here? It was the evening, and it was Valentine's Day, and it was the day Harry finally came home to Holmes Chapel and…

Oh…

You had a boyfriend…

"Why don't you come in, Harry?" you offered, but your best friend was still staring at Joel.

You… you had a boyfriend?

"Harry?"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning at him. You were shivering in the cold now, your teeth chattering before you would clench your jaw to stop the shaking. Your breath drew patterns in the light coming from your house behind you. And you were breathtaking, as always. You were absolutely perfect.

You had a boyfriend.

Harry tightened his hold on the rose without noticing, until a thorn was piercing the flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

"Uhm… Actually, I was just saying hello, but I got to go."

"Oh, okay…" you nodded, although you were clearly disappointed.

"Yeah, I… I've got to go."

"Still busy because of the band?"

"Uhm… No, I… I've got something to do."

You looked at the rose again, and then at his eyes, your gaze travelling back and forth a few times.

Of course, you were wondering what he was doing with this flower in his hand.

And he could have given it to you. Given you the benefit of the doubt. Gone forth with his plan anyway. Asked about your boyfriend.

But it seemed wrong and mean and all in all, useless. You had found someone else, and on one hand he was the one to blame. A year had passed since that moment you had shared in his house, and so much was different now. He should have asked you about all this before, instead of waiting for you to be gone. He was too late, that was all.

And maybe he had given the moment too much meaning. Maybe you didn't mean much by it. Maybe you had forgotten about it altogether.

And there he was with a rose for you after spending months building his hopes up. What a fool he was… What an absolute idiot…

"Hmm… yeah, I… I've got to go see Melanie."

"Melanie?"

"Yeah, I… I have a date."

Your expression remained unreadable, although he saw the way your jaw clenched. But he attributed the symptom to the fact that he had promised to spend some time with you tonight, and your best friend was bailing out on you.

Yes, that was why you seemed confused, and a little sad.

"Oh," was your only answer.

He nodded, taking a step back.

"Will you still be here tomorrow?" you asked, following him one step further, chasing after him even if for a single step, the way you always had and always would.

"Yeah, I'm leaving in a week."

"Can you… Maybe we could go to the cinema tomorrow or… just… chill and catch up?"

"I… I don't know, Gemma's back too to see me so…"

"Oh, okay…"

"And I want to spend some time with my mum too, so..."

"Of course, you… you don't see her that much either."

"Yeah."

"Well, just… tell me when you're free, okay? I… I've really missed you and I… I really want to catch up with you."

"Okay. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Good night, Harry."

Before you could say anything else, Harry had turned on his heels and was hurrying down the street. He turned left to cross through the gardens and come back to his house discretely. When he knocked at the kitchen door, Anne welcomed him back inside with a deep frown.

"Already? What happened? And why are you coming back from there… we have a front door, you know?"

But he didn't answer and merely rushed inside, throwing the rose in the sink. He was taking off his coat when Anne realized what it all meant.

"Oh… darling, I'm sorry."

She wrapped her arms around her son, but Harry didn't reciprocate the gesture.

"I need to be alone right now," he whispered, but Anne tightened her hold on him.

"Are you sure? You don't want to tell me what happened?"

He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, his voice made hoarse by pain.

"She… she has a boyfriend," he simply answered, and Anne heaved a sigh.

"I'm so sorry, darling."

"It's alright. It was a long shot anyway."

"Did you ask her about this boyfriend of hers? Maybe it isn't that serious."

"No, I didn't. I just… I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

"I need to be alone right now, mum."

"I'm here if you need anything, okay?"

Harry merely nodded, giving his mother a small smile as he finally broke away from her embrace. He hurried upstairs, while Anne looked at him with a pained expression on her face, but there wasn't much that she could do to help.

He walked in his bedroom and closed the door behind him, not bothering in turning on the light, and when he remembered his lie about Melanie, he decided to remain in the dark for a while longer. This same bedroom in which the two of you had spent countless hours laughing and joking around and doing your homework and reading and watching stupid videos of cats on his computer. You had fallen asleep together in his bed during sleepovers. You had broken his shelf while trying to imitate some martial art. You had broken your toe against his bed simply because you were so damn clumsy sometimes. You had played video games together through sleepless nights. You had read your favourite books to him out loud. He still had that sheet of paper upon which you had learned how to write his name in one of his drawers.

His life was so full of you.

He let himself slip down the length of the door until he was sitting on the wooden floor. When had the tears started to flow? He wasn't sure, but they were there nonetheless.

He looked up to his window, through which he could get a glimpse at your bedroom. Your light was on, and through the think curtains, he could guess your shadow moving on the other side of the windowpane. There was another shadow with you, a little taller, and he didn't need much effort to guess that it was Joel. He watched the two shadows moving closer to meld into one broader shape instead. He kicked the foot of his bed as he imagined the two of you kissing. And if he wasn't sure of what his feelings for you meant, he was absolutely certain that the cause behind his pain now was heartbreak.

He tried to look away, focus onto anything but you and Joel wrapped in each other's arms in your bedroom.

Because indeed, you were in Joel's arms at that moment. With your own arms around his neck and your head resting against his shoulder. And it felt nice. You felt better like this, being held.

You reckoned that you were lucky to have your cousin by your side. You were lucky that he had managed to travel for your mother's birthday and stayed for a few extra days. You were lucky that he was there now, with you, to cradle your head in his hand while you cried harder than you had ever cried before.

Because you had waited for a year for Harry to come back. Because you had imagined thousands of times how you would talk about that interrupted moment in his kitchen. Because you dreamt of being held by him instead, and you wondered what it felt like to be kissed by him. And when he had been standing there with that rose, for a moment, you had hoped that maybe the flower was for you. That perhaps he felt the same, had the same anticipation as you did at the thought of the two of you spending some quality time together again, and the same apprehension at the idea of talking about the almost-kiss from the previous year. But then, he had told you the rose was for Melanie, and not for you. It was Valentine's Day and he was going to give Melanie a red rose, the message was loud and clear.

Maybe he had even forgotten about that moment in his kitchen, it was the most painful thought that kept on twirling around in your mind.

Yes, you were glad your cousin Joel was there to hold you while you cried over your first heartbreak.

Loch Lomond, 2020

Now that you were up and eating your breakfast, your hair still damped from your morning shower, you noticed how sore your legs were after the hike of the day before. If you didn't regret at all your long walk in the mountains, as the view from the top was most definitely worth a few cramps now, you still wished you could go back in bed and lay there all day.

But your plans for a restful day didn't match the schedule your cousin had prepared for the week, and there was no way you could refuse Cassie anything the week before her wedding. Which was why you found yourself walking towards the loch with the rest of the guests, chatting with Patrick and your parents. Harry was a few steps behind, lost in a conversation of his own, even though he was sometimes distracted from the words spoken to him because he kept a careful eye on Patrick all the way from the lodge to the shore of the loch, cautious at being as discreet in his surveillance as he could.

Cassie had planned an outing across the loch. She had rented some rowboats for the day, that were merely ten minutes away from the lodge. The idea was to cross the loch with the boats, have lunch on the other side, and explore the forest a little maybe, and then coming back to the lodge for the early evening.

The weather was merciful, the day a little warmer than the previous one, and the sun was bright now that it was high enough in the blue sky. There were barely any lazy clouds to cover the light, and the waters of the loch reflected the clear sky like an azure mirror. The shores were not too muddy thanks to the sunny weather, although the layers of multicoloured skeleton leaves that covered the ground had a tendency to trap the morning dew for a little longer than usual, making the earth still a little wetter than what it should have been. It made your footsteps loud in the quiet morning.

Cassie insisted for you to join her and her fiancée in their boat, so you complied, leaving Harry to share a rowboat with other guests.

It didn't really surprise you to have Cassie insisting on you joining her. You had not seen each other in a very long time because of your studies, and you had lots of things to catch up on. Besides, you were expecting to be questioned about your 'relationship' with Harry.

And indeed, you were not disappointed.

Five minutes into the trip, as soon as you were a few meters away from the other boats, Cassie was more or less abandoning the oar she was in charge of to lean towards you instead, an excited glimmer in her eyes.

"So… you and Harry? I want to hear everything!"

You laughed, shaking your head.

"There's not so much to say about it," you rolled your eyes, diverting your attention from her eager eyes by shaking your drying locks, as if trying to make your hair dry faster.

"Not much to tell about it?! Are you kidding me?! After all these years of the two of you being oblivious morons, you finally are together!"

"We didn't spend years being oblivious morons, thank you very much!" you defended yourself, but your cousin was far from convinced.

"Yes, you did!"

"Honey, you need to help me control the boat," Cassie's fiancée blurted out, struggling with her own oar, but your cousin was too busy with you to care about where the boat was heading.

"How did you two finally come to your senses?" she asked.

"We… had a little bit too much to drink one evening, at a party," you explained, hoping she wouldn't notice that you were lying. "And we ended up… saying things that we wouldn't have admitted while sobber, I guess. And we… kissed. Then, the next day, we talked about it and came to the conclusion that it was for the better that we got it out in the open. And we decided to take the risk and try a relationship."

She let out an excited shriek, letting go of the oar completely, making Amy roll her eyes at her and giving up her own oar as well. She knew your cousin enough to be aware that she wouldn’t be focused on anything but you as long as her curiosity for gossips wasn't satisfied.

"I can't believe it took you guys this long to finally agree to be together!" she swatted your leg playfully. "But then, you both are stubborn and a little stupid, so… not so surprising."

"Thanks for the compliment," you answered with irony, making both the women in front of you laugh.

"And so far, how is it going?"

"Good. It's… it's going great."

"What about the distance?"

"Huh… so far we haven't had to deal with that too much but… we're used to not being around each other constantly so I'm not too worried."

"Yeah, but… it's different between friends and between lovers," Amy replied.

"Uhm… yeah, I guess," you tried to escape her question.

"Has he written songs about you?" Cassie asked, a softness spreading across her features, and both you and Amy chuckled at the sight of the desperate romantic your cousin sometimes was.

"No, he hasn't!" you replied.

"None that you know of, at least!" Cassie replied with a snort. "He was already writing songs about you before you two got together, so he's obviously writing some now too!"

"No, he wasn't!" you shook your head, frowning.

"Huh… yes, he was."

"Of course not!"

"He was! You have to be blind to not realize that yet! He's been head over heels for you for years!"

You rolled your eyes, hoping the gesture would be enough of an answer, because you weren't sure how to respond to her without betraying the truth.

After all, she would know he had never felt this way for you if you told her that he had never, for certain, written any songs about you. Because for all these years, he had never seen anything but a friend in you. There had been one moment when you were sixteen… but then time had passed and had turned the instant in a fading memory. And there was nothing else to be said about it all. He went on to have other relationships, and you did the same, and he fell in love and wrote songs about other people, and never about you. And you were fine with that.

But you couldn’t sell Cassie the story of shared feelings with Harry if you told her that he had never seen anything in you but a friend.

Luckily for you, she dropped that particular subject, to come to another, just as personal and problematic for you to answer.

"And… when did he first say that he loves you, then?"

You scoffed, faking to be a little embarrassed.

"That is none of your business!"

"But he said it then!" Cassie let out another excited shriek. "Knowing him, it must have been awfully romantic," she went on with a dreamy sigh.

By her side, Amy rolled her eyes at her, an amused smile on her lips.

The other boats of the party were drifting across the loch as well, a few meters away and, hopefully, out of earshot. But you were too busy trying to make your way through Cassie's sudden interview to pay much attention to the rest of the guests.

"Anyway, it ought to be more romantic than when Amy told me she loved me for the first time," she threw a knowing glance at her fiancée, who frowned at her in response.

"It was kind of romantic, when you think of it!" Amy defended herself.

"I was sick! I was throwing up in your toilets!"

"I was holding your hair!"

"I WAS PUKING!" Cassie fought back.

"When you think of it, it was kind of cute," you defended Amy with a chuckle. "It meant that she loved you even if she was seeing you being disgusting."

"Exactly!" Amy agreed.

Cassie laughed, before leaning to kiss the fresh pout away from her fiancée's lips.

"You're right. It was kind of cute. Memorable, if anything else."

It was Amy's time to laugh, before leaning for another peck.

And seeing the couple together like this, you had to admit that you were a little jealous. If you weren't complaining about being single, you still had to admit that, looking at these two being adorable together, you wanted that too, one day.

You didn't even notice your eyes drifting away and settling on a colourful jumper in another of the boats, your brain refusing to register the interruption in the movement of your eyes, or who the jumper and the mess of brown curls belonged to.

"Anyway, next question I have to ask," Cassie brought you back to the present, and you settled your attention on her again. "How is the sex?"

You chocked on your own breath.

"What?! What kind of question is that?!" you protested, but Cassie merely shrugged while Amy was exploding with laughter at your reaction.

"Sex can be important in a relationship! Depends on the relationship, of course. Some people don't need that. But Harry is obviously very touchy and horny, like… that's just who he is. So I assume sex is gonna be a part of the relationship that… counts at least. How is it going?"

"Cassie!"

"What? We're all grown-ups! Don't act all shy now!

"I… It's going perfectly fine, thank you for your concern," you answered, clearly embarrassed.

"Good… you won't give me any more details on what's going on down there…?"

"CASSIE!"

"Okay, okay! I was just curious!"

You buried your face in both your hands, groaning in embarrassment.

"Besides, I'm asking cause… I'm a bit worried for you two, if I'm honest."

At that comment though, you looked up at Cassie again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, it's just…" she shrugged, trying to find the right words. "You and Harry don't seem so… different around each other than you were… before. You know?"

It was your turn to shrug.

"We've always been kind of close. And Harry isn't so much in PDA anyway."

"Hmm…" your cousin nodded, but was clearly unconvinced. "I don't know, I just… feel like maybe you're not putting enough… tenderness into it. Okay, he held your hand a couple of times but… you're not kissing, or stealing many glances or… I mean, no more than usual. I don't know, just… I'm worried about you two. A relationship can't work if you don't put efforts into it, and you don't seem to put too much effort into it for now."

You were near panicking by now.

Had you and Harry done such a bad job at selling the whole fake relationship? Even your cousin was doubting you. You reckoned that a conversation with Harry was needed.

But right now, you needed to find an explanation, and fast.

You heaved a sigh.

"It's just… it's a bit weird being together around my parents and the whole family, you know?" you lied, hoping with all your might that Cassie would bite into the bait. "I'd love to be a bit more obvious about it, but then I notice my parents are around, and I feel like a teenager about to get caught snogging her boyfriend in her bedroom by her dad… you know what I mean? And I think Harry kinda feel the same."

Cassie nodded knowingly, before leaning forward and taking your hand.

"I get it. It must be weird to change your relationship with Harry and suddenly come forth with it in front of everyone. Especially when Harry has been your friend and a part of this family for so long now. But… you need to relax. Everyone around here loves Harry, and more importantly, everyone simply wants you to be happy. And it's obvious that your happiness lays with Harry, it's always been obvious. So… relax. Enjoy your relationship and stop caring so much about everybody else. Can you do that for me? Consider it my wedding gift."

You were strangely touched by her caring words, and you found yourself fighting tears for some reason. Maybe it was because Cassie was so genuinely concerned for you and only wanted the brightest happiness for you, it was obvious in her tone and her words alike. Maybe it was because of what she said about Harry and you. It was hard to tell.

But you nodded anyway, choosing to joke to relieve the emotion that filled the air above the loch all of a sudden.

"I'll try, thank you for your advice. But… I've already bought you one of the things on your stupid wedding list, so… that would make too many gifts."

She laughed with you, finally pulling away, and taking back her oar. But she didn't start manoeuvring the boat before one last word was spoken through a tender smile.

"I'm really happy for you, Y/N. He'll make you happy, I know it. He'll love you the way you deserve to be adored. He always has, even when you didn't know he did."

You weren't surprised to find Harry playing with the two young children that were part of the guests. Amy's nephews and nieces were, after all, some of the cutest children you had ever met, and Harry was known for his love for children. So, when you went looking for him to talk about what your cousin had confessed in the boat about her doubts about the two of you, and found your best friend giggling in the most adorable way, chasing after Amy's eight-year-old nephew, in this ridiculous way he had to run sometimes, you couldn't refrain a grin. None of them seemed to notice you as you approached them, they were too busy playing on the shore of the loch. The rest of the two families were setting down blankets and the food needed for the picnic a few meters away, the boats safely dragged up the shore when you arrived to the other side of the loch. And you thought you could use this amount of time when everyone else was busy to have a quick conversation with Harry. But then, you were met with this adorable scene that now unfolded before you, and really, you couldn't interrupt them.

It was as if you were held back by an invisible force, really. All of a sudden, your feet were planted in the ground, and there was no willpower to summon in yourself to make your body move forward. Instead, you remained motionless under the autumnal sun, the wind making the colourful leaves whisper above you, and stared at your best friend being the softest ray of sunshine you had ever seen.

And there it was again. This warm feeling invading your whole chest that you had spent so long trying to banish from your heart. No need to put a name on it. No need to make it harder and more painful than it already was.

Why did he have to be like this all the time? He made it so hard to forget him. And he was so oblivious to it all that you couldn't even be mad at him for it.

Really sometimes, you hated him a little because of it. And as you watched him run around after the child, purposefully missing as he extended his arms to grab the boy, a ridiculous expression on his face as he laughed under the sun, wearing that stupid oversized jumper stained with bright colours of his, his unruly hair a mess of curls shaken by the wind, you did hate him a little. You hated him for making you feel the way you did now.

It took him a couple of minutes to notice that you were there, leaning against the trunk of an evergreen pine tree. Once he spotted you, he shot you a bright smile, before making a silly face that made you laugh despite yourself. It wasn't your fault, after all. He was so goofy sometimes, how were you supposed to resist him?

You shook your head at him, before nodding towards the trees that climbed up the shores, all the way up the slopes of the mountains around the lochs. Harry seemed to catch what you meant, as he sent the children back to their parents, and followed you as discreetly as he could further in the forest.

There were bushes filled with thorns that you almost tore your jeans onto. Only a few meters away, a small clearing filled with purple heather and tall green ferns was splayed in sunshine. Pine trees left their needles everywhere, making a brownish blanket upon the earth. A few colourful deciduous trees finished to paint the scene with touches of brighter colours to stain the blank blue sky. You figured the clearing was far enough to not be heard.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked with a concerned frown when you stopped walking and turned to him with worry painted all across your features.

"I had a talk with Amy in the boat."

"And?"

"And… we're not doing so good."

"What do you mean? Do you mean she's… suspicious about us being together?"

"Kind of. I mean… no, she didn't go this far," you reassured him. "But she asked if everything was alright between us because she thought we weren't… uhm… showing our feelings enough."

Harry heaved a sigh, pinching his lower lip between his fingers, clear sign that he was thinking and worried.

"I told you it was a bad idea."

"Look, we just need to up our game a little. I thought my family would be more easily convinced, but as they clearly don't seem to be buying it, I reckon that we simply have to… put a little more effort pretending."

"So… what do you propose we do?"

"Just… more PDA, I guess."

Harry's cheeks and ears turned crimson, and there was nowhere for him to hide this time.

"Alright. I can do that."

"Let's just… full on pretend we're together, okay? Holding hands, and hugs or whatever… you would do with your girlfriend in public... I mean… with people you know around."

"Okay."

"We can do this, H."

"We don't exactly have a choice at this point, do we?"

You didn't answer, and instead, walked back towards your family to join them for lunch, leaving Harry to meditate on your words on his own.

But then, he reckoned he didn't have a choice. If you wanted him to fully lean in the pretend, then he'd do it. No matter how dangerous that behaviour could end up being.

*****************************************************************

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davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

Comics this week (12/1/2020)?

calvatronlordofall said: Today’s comics?

Far Sector #9: Another comic I won’t understand until it’s done and I can reread the whole thing but that I’m enjoying anyway. Really, really hope Jemisin continues contributing to the medium in some form after this, because she absolutely has a gift for it.

Strange Adventures #7: He doesn’t care for tyranny, folks. And JEEESSSUUUUS, Doc

DCeased: Dead Planet #6: Some quality DC Comics nonsense problem-solving, but not sure at all whether the chips are gonna fall in favor of the stuff about this I’ve been really liking or the aspects I simply don’t care about at all.

Tales From The Dark Multiverse: Wonder Woman: War Of The Gods: While I’ve seen plenty of them around the periphery in anthologies and so forth I think this is Vita Ayala’s first full work I’ve been exposed to, and tbh I can’t say I’m taken, even given the pretty threadbare-seeming material for them to work with. I’ll still give Children of the Atom a try, but my expectations have been lowered. Nice seeing Trish Mulviihill’s colors though, thought they looked familiar and it turns out she worked on my beloved Superman & Bugs Bunny.

Batman: The Adventures Continue #7: Yeah, now that it’s all said and done, definitely the best take on the death and return of Jason Todd.

Batman #104: Art’s taken a hit, but Ghostmaker’s getting more and more fun as a character the more that comes out about him. And surprising seeing Dick in his real Robin suit in flashback, Dark Designs had him still rocking that New 52 abomination. It really seems like the policy RE: costumes in flashbacks with him remains up in the air at any given time?

Anonymous said: Thoughts on the long-awaited BatCat?

Anonymous said: Bat/Cat the objectively best comic of the week. Thots.

Batman/Catwoman #1: I imagine disappointingly, quite few - both the best and worst part of this book is that King’s entire spiel on “This is gonna be such a different animal from my regular run, this is my DKR, this is my ultimate prestige statement on the characters” was pure hype, this is just the next issue of his Batman run with Clay Mann as the new main artist. And it’s good! I like it! I think it’d take awhile for anybody to tumble onto the ‘three timelines’ aspect of it if they didn’t go in knowing about it since the color of Catwoman’s suit is the only obvious tipoff for a chunk of it, but it’s still a well-constructed piece of comics in line with the story up to this point, even if it’s so in line with it that it pretty much puts the lie to the notion that this was originally conceived of as a special prestige project in the same way as Strange Adventures or Rorschach. Mostly I’m just struck now that it’s out by the guts of doing a straight sequel to Mask of the Phantasm, given that’s maybe the singularly least divisive major Batman story: everybody on every side of the Batman-loving aisle recognizes it as hallowed ground, so nobody’s gonna not be let down if you fuck it up. I really need to rewatch it, it’s been well over a decade and unlike Return of the Joker my memories of it have almost entirely faded.

Black Widow #4: The further in I get the more I’m struck by the cleverness of the central conceit. How do you construct a drama around a century-old woman whose business has her have to mostly forsake most normal human connection? Make the literal supervillain plot that she’s been forced to have incredibly intimate human connections, and now she’s just gotta deal with that on top of what would otherwise be fairly routine Black Widow stuff.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man #21: Hate to say it folks, but even discounting the severity of the delays this arc’s been a dud. Really hoping it finds its feet again soon.

King In Black #1: Holy cow, this was ass. I went in thinking “well, I’ve resigned myself to having to get this to understand the crossovers into books I’m already getting and tie-in minis I do care about, but Cates still has a baseline level of competency so it should still be perfectly readable”, but this is just...nothing. This is that modern Dan Jurgens tier where it’s so bland and perfunctory and inoffensively executed it loops back around to infuriating, except Dan Jurgens’s writing if nothing else at least doesn’t strut around in tangible self-regard as the next great sales-shattering triumph of the Punk Rock God Of Comixxx like Cates’. And when was the last Marvel event on this scale with such little hype behind it? Even Empyre seemed like it had more weight on arrival, and much as I enjoyed it I’m pretty sure that book mainly existed to fill space until we got this. Maybe it’s just the circle I run in. I swear I remember Thanos Wins being pretty fun, and I just reread Atomahawk and that was still a hoot, so it’s a shame Cates has turned out this way, and worse he’s ended up Marvel’s new golden boy. Unless my dad likes it (and if so hey, he’s not alone, I imagine this is selling gangbusters) I’m sure not grabbing another issue, so I guess I’ll have to do my best with context clues in figuring out what’s going on for...Guardians of the Galaxy, S.W.O.R.D., Daredevil, Namor, Return of the Valkyries, the Joe Fixit Immortal Hulk one-shot, Iron Man/Doctor Doom, and the next book below. Fuck.

The Union #1: I’ve only read Everything Used To Be Black And White for Jack Staff but I was definitely curious what Grist would do here, and it didn’t disappoint! Fun little story, bunch of neat character ideas I’m looking forward to seeing developed further, very lived-in feeling slice of its corner of a superhero world.

Marvels Snapshots: Civil War: An excellent little parable that I’m surprised we didn’t actually see the likes of in ‘06, and frankly worth getting a mediocre Miles Morales arc for (even if it was disappointing that that one had to be where the ball was dropped) if this is where Ahmed’s attention was going instead.

Daredevil #25: So I turned two pages at once and accidentally spoiled myself at the last possible moment for the big reveal of the issue, so that sucks. Still a great issue though - one that manages to function as a logical extension of an incredibly street-level story even though it can only possibly exist as an extrapolation of the wildest excesses of the Marvel universe - but I cannot imagine how the hell the next is gonna cleanly pivot into King in Black shenanigans.

Kill A Man: A new OGN by Steve Orlando, cowritten with Phillip Kennedy Johnson and with art by Al Morgan and letters by Jim Campbell, the reductive though not inaccurate pitch is ‘queer Creed’. But since this is likely to sail under the radar I need to emphasize this is one of Orlando’s absolute best works, a real triumph of the form that’s among the best comics of the year (good GOD does this put to shame 99% of superhero comics fight scenes by the end), and a must-buy for any fans of his work. I’m just gonna let how hard the title and solicit text go speak for themselves:

“As a child, James Bellyi watched his father die in the ring as payback for slurs thrown at the other fighter. Today, he's a Mixed Martial Arts star at the top of his game, and one of the most popular fighters in the world...until he's outed as gay in his title shot press conference. Abandoned overnight by his training camp, his endorsements, his fans and his sport, to regain his title shot Bellyi is forced to turn to the last person he ever wants to see again: Xavier Mayne, a gay, once-great fighter in his own right...and the man James once watched kill his father.”

#Week's Comics #Opinion

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skzss · 4 years

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Walk with me

Member: Any? Written with Lee Minho in mind but it’s never specified so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ x reader

Warnings: Car crashes, death, slight claustrophobia, slight nyctophobia (fear of darkness)

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1997

Description: You don’t know at all what happens after death but at least there’s someone there to guide you.

Author’s notes: I had an existential crisis thinking about my life and what it would mean if I died right now and then I got to thinking about how reapers are much kinder than we think they are. After all, they guide us through to the other side, wherever that is, so we’re never alone.

You knew this day was coming.

After all, everyone dies someday. Some go easier than others but everyone goes someday.

You had hoped, in vain, that you would die a little softer and a little gentler than you did. But you don’t get to choose these things. You remember screaming, hearing squealing wheels and smelling burning leather. You remember feeling very hot then very cold. You remember flashing lights before your consciousness dripped away.

“Hey.” You feel someone shaking you. “Wake up already.”

Huh? Aren’t you supposed to be dead? That car hit right against your passenger side door, there’s no way you’re not dead right? You crack open an eye and it’s dark. Definitely not the hospital then because those places are always the worst sort of fluorescent yellow light. It doesn’t smell like any kind of hospital either. The air is rich with decay and you wrinkle your nose at it. The voice you heard scoffs, mutters a “typical human”. You look up and you blink, once, twice.

A hooded figure towers over you. A reaper holding a stereotypical scythe, though this one seems impatient. They nudge you again with their foot, sighing. “Not very fast are you.”

“I just died, can’t you give me some slack?!” You grumble as you sit up, surveying your surroundings. You don’t see the crash anymore, or your body, though that’s for the better. You might be mangled up by now and you definitely don’t want to see that.

“No, I’ve got other souls to see too. Let’s go.” The figure doesn’t even bother offering you a hand, instead immediately striding off. You scramble to your feet and dart to their side. It’s much too dark for you to find your way without them. Way to where you’re not even sure but you sure as hell don’t want to be left behind here. They set a breakneck pace and you struggle a bit to keep up. Even if you’re a spirit now, a soul or whatever, you still aren’t very fast. Apparently your dead lungs still transmit signals to your dead brain to slow down. You couldn’t exactly wheeze but your ghost got as close to that as possible. Sparing you a glance, the reaper slows down marginally and you manage to catch up.

“So,” you huff, “where am I going?” You weren’t a bad person. You weren’t necessarily good either. Everyday, you just lived your life, with some care for the world around you and some care for yourself. Whenever you could you’d use recycled materials or avoid printing excess pages, but you didn’t stop using plastic entirely or give up your air conditioner either. The best you could hope for was probably something akin to purgatory, where you’d be neither heralded nor hurt.

“You’ll see,” they say. You frown. First of all, cryptic as fuck. Secondly, why do they sound so annoyed? If anything, shouldn’t you be annoyed at dying? You grumble under your breath but they don’t seem to care at all.

For a while it’s quiet. There’s no sounds, even from your plodding footsteps. You don’t feel any more tired than you did when you first started. Perhaps you could walk infinity without feeling tired. The figure next to you glides along, ever forward without taking any turns. Though could they even take turns in this vast, endless darkness?

Your mind wanders back to your life, or rather who’s left alive. You hope someone will take care of your cat. She does get rather hissy when she isn’t fed on time. Someone will probably tell your parents. Your heart clenches. Your mom will probably collapse on the spot in shock while your dad silently holds her, hands gripped tight around her arms. They’ll ask to see your body maybe. They’ll definitely cry. You send a quiet apology for dying so soon. Your friends, they’ll know too sooner or later. You apologize to them too even though they’ll never hear. Hopefully they’ll divide your belongings among themselves without too much fuss. Your mom will want some of it but the vast majority of your stuff will go somewhere else.

“Will you stop,” a voice snarls. You snap your head up to look at the figure who’s gripping their scythe so tight it’s turning their knuckles white. Now that you’re looking at them properly, they kind of look like a regular person. You can’t see under the hood exactly but their hand isn’t skeletal at all. Their fingers twitch on the pole. “You’re thinking too loud.”

You stop. “You can hear that?”

They groan and stop as well, a few feet ahead of you. “Sort of. It’s not the exact thought if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Your face scrunches up. “What does that mean? You’re sensing auras or something?”

They snort. “Sure, auras. Feelings. Whatever you want to call it.”

Ugh, just what you needed. A nosy reaper to take you into the void. You start walking again, standing next to them and waiting for them to continue onward. They seem to look you up and down before doing so.

“So what am I supposed to do while we walk? Does this ever end or am I stuck strolling around with you?” You sigh, throwing your hands up in the air.

“As if. I told you, I’ve got other souls to see too.”

“So then when-” you start but they silence you with a flick of their wrist.

“You will know when we get there.”

Again, cryptic and unhelpful but you sigh and allow the silence to fall again. If you’re not going to get answers out of this guy then why bother? But since you can’t dwell in your thoughts too long, you don’t know what to do. What were you doing before the crash? Singing? Probably. You love music, so much that you were constantly listening to it. Even in your sleep! Perhaps the only moments of silence in your life were when you were taking exams for school.

What was the last song you were playing? Hopefully something good. Your playlists weren’t exactly filtered through so some of the songs were from before your music tastes changed. You hear a defeated sigh. “You were listening to Teenager. GOT7.” Well, you muse, at least it was a good song.

You wonder how much long you’ll be walking but apparently the answer was not long at all. The pure black melts into a gloomy grey so you can see a little better. The reaper holds an arm out in front of you, making you stop in front of what seems to be nothing truthfully. But you can sense something from the space in front of you and well, your guide should definitely know what’s going on.

“Wait here.” They push you back just a bit before stepping forward and- You blink. They’re gone, utterly vanished into that pale light. If you squint just a little harder, you can see the barest outline of a doorway.

Left out there by yourself, it’s… Eerie. It may not be pitch black anymore but even in the dim light, you feel uneasy. Your skin crawls because it’s too quiet. There’s not a sound at all, nothing to indicate that this space even really exists. Or that you exist. That reaper had really put you at ease, hadn’t they? Walking by your side, a presence to shield you from some of the suffocating clutches of the vast void. You regret being a little impatient with them now, even as you hope to whatever deity listens that they’ll be back soon. Something tells you that you don’t want to be left here, alone, for any reason at all. You can’t help pacing around a little, thumb coming up to your mouth. Bad habits don’t die apparently.

Your throat feels tight and it’s hard to breathe and everything feels smaller even though it’s just a great empty nothing and and and-

“Quit that.” You jerk your head up to see the reaper. Even from their voice they sound agitated but when you look up, you actually. Woah.

He’s really cute. His lips are drawn in a tight line and his forehead is wrinkled as he stares down at you. Wait, since when were you on the floor, crumpled up like this? You jump up, a little unsteady. Fuck that’s embarrassing. Anyways, back to the cute guy who’s apparently been walking by your side the whole time.

“Come on.”

The door materializes, heavy and dark wood. It looks as ominous as you would expect but there’s also comfort in seeing something so real. You attempt to take a step forward but your legs give out. Now of all times, you think as you collapse. The guy sucks in a breath and darts forward to catch you even a little, his hand gripping your arm tight. “Sorry,” you mumble, your other hand firm on the ground. “Sorry, I’ll get up, I-”

Your brain races to recap this whole situation. You’re dead. You died and you left everyone you loved behind and you never did anything meaningful with your stupid life and you, you, you-

You’re crying. You’re crying and your tears are warm. Some part of you thought they’d be cold. But they’re warm, down your cheeks and your chin and your nose. Your hands tremble even as they fly to your face and touch the tracks carved. Your chest heaves and you cry awfully human like for a ghost.

Since when were you cradled in his chest? Since when had he set you down and pulled you quietly, gently into his arms? Since when had he begun to sing, a melody so soft it breaks your heart? He rocks you right there on the floor, surrounded by terrible gloom. He’s awfully warm for a reaper.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, again and again and again. Your face is pressed right into his robe and he’s shifted to stroking your head, tangling and detangling his fingers from your hair. “I’m sorry.”

He clicks his tongue. “This is why you’re all so troublesome.” But he still keeps stroking, steadily draining away your desolation.

You’ve never really given thought to reapers. They’re caricatures of Halloween and death and usually overly sinister to the point of being ridiculously goofy. But this one isn’t like that. He’s not just a skeleton dressed in a scary robe, using his scythe to tear down lives. He didn’t make you die. All he did was wake you up and walk with you through what could’ve been years of darkness. You grip his robes and look up. You probably look like shit honestly, with puffy red eyes and red cheeks. He looks down to meet you with a slight curve to his lips. “You’ve stopped crying.” Ah, how beautiful he is like this.

You swallow. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, it was to be expected. You didn’t die very nicely. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t break halfway through.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it with more strength than you thought you had. “Now, are you ready to go?” He gestures to the door. It creaks open but you can’t see what’s beyond.

But you are, strangely, ready. Did you leave behind everything you had? All your regrets and sadness, there on the floor in his arms? Just what kind of magic did he cast on you?

You take a deep breath and step forward until you’re just before the door. He’s held onto your hands this whole time and some part of you expected him to continue through the door. But he lets your hand float out of his own as you pass through. You whip around and manage to catch one last glimpse.

Oh, how sad he looks, with his kind smile and crying eyes. It was a blessing to have him by your side as you went, wasn’t it? You muster up everything you have to shout.

“Thank you!”

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theres-a-goldensky · 5 years

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32 Reddie Fic Recs

In honor of the joy I feel in finally getting out of this miserably terrible fucking year of my life, I thought I’d do something fun and make up a list of Reddie fic recs, since this has fandom has taken over my life recently. Strap in, friends. This is gonna be a long one.

These recs are in the order in which I read them.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

IT chapter 2 list part two - Reddie

Good Omens fic

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are Reddie, all are complete.

** - denotes personal favorite

1. first love / late spring by vowelinthug - ~36,000 words, explicit - They both survive It, but not without some injuries, both physical and psychological. Richie takes Eddie to a secluded cabin to help him recover. And then they accidentally make a podcast. Nice slowburn, a good Richie characterization. I liked the conversations between the two of them, in particular one about Richie’s disdain for shoes that was pitch perfect.

The doctor’s evil eye is on both of them now. “Your friend is gonna be fine. Broken collarbone and a lot of blood loss, but the arm stays on, for now anyway.” Probably at the way Richie sags in relief so hard he groans in pain, the doctor stops looking so severe. “He’s a tough guy. I’ve never seen anyone regain consciousness from that much blood loss just to give me a full medical history.”

“Oh my god,” says Richie, covering his mouth. “I like him so much.”

Bill pats his shoulder in sympathy.

2. the fireworks that go off when you smile by zach_stone - ~10,000 words, teen - Post-movie the adult Losers, including Stan, go on a vacation together. There’s just lots of Richie staring at a wet, shirtless Eddie and pining.

Richie blinks at him, his stomach doing a fucking somersault, pinned under Eddie’s weirdly passionate stare. He swallows another mouthful of beer to stall for time, shifting his gaze away. Spread out before him, the lake looks like flat, black glass. “Jeez, is the risk analyst really telling me to ignore the risks? What’s the world coming to?” he manages to joke.

He expects Eddie to roll his eyes, to huff and lean away again, but he doesn’t. He says, still earnest, “I just think some things are worth the risk.”

And Richie doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that. He resolutely tells himself not to puke on Ben and Beverly’s porch, because he thinks if he did it would just be the words I love Eddie Kaspbrak a hundred times over, all puddled on the slats of wood. He stands up rather abruptly. “I should go to bed,” he says, aware that he’s talking too loud, being too fucking obvious. “I’m jetlagged as fuck. Also maybe a little drunk.”

3. oh, i want the truth to be known by ShowMeAHero - ~7000 words, explicit - Richie sees Eddie die in the deadlights and then manages to save him at the last second, but It skewers him instead. I’m honestly not sure why there isn’t more fic with this premise, because Richie sacrificing his own safety for Eddie and then Eddie losing his shit is absolutely, 100% my jam.

The claw isn’t in Eddie’s chest. Instead, it’s in Richie’s, caught in his side, pinning him to the ground. He chokes on a scream, caught in his throat, and pushes at Eddie, just trying to get them away. He rolls into him, ripping Pennywise’s claw through his side to get away, but once he’s free, he’s scrambling into a half-stumble and dragging Eddie with him until they’re hidden under an outcropping of rock. His side is bleeding, he can feel it, and his entire fucking abdomen hurts, and, for a moment, it’s all he can process.

“Holy shit, Richie,” Eddie exclaims. The pain shuffles to the back of Richie’s mind so he can focus on Eddie instead. He sounds winded, but he’s fucking alive, unhurt and breathing and okay, and Richie huffs a laugh. He’s in so much fucking pain, but he can’t even figure out where it’s all originating from, and the only thought cycling through his brain is it’s okay, he’s okay, Eddie’s okay, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, over and over.

4. we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright) by buckyjerkbarnes - ~9,000 words, teen - Richie and the other Losers in the hospital after killing It, waiting for news on Eddie. Richie has a bit of a breakdown.

The ambulance ride had been the longest twenty minutes of Richie’s life. He'd tried not to get in the way of the EMTs who worked frantically to keep Eddie alive; who were far more patient with him than Richie likely deserved. By the time they'd rolled up to the emergency entrance at the hospital, Ben stamping his breaks as the rest of the Losers came to a grinding halt not fifteen yards away, Richie was still a sobbing mess. He couldn't see through the cracked lens of his glasses, and when Eddie, who had not opened his eyes or said a word since they were still in the sewers, was about to be wheeled out of sight, Richie made like a battering ram and lunged towards the pair of swinging doors.

“Sir!" An orderly yelped. "You can’t—!"

And Stan, who had materialized at Richie's elbow, told the orderly: "He's the husband."

5. ** It’s Hard to Tell Sometimes by gallopingmelancholia - ~21,000 words, explicit - Eddie divorces his wife and moves to LA to live with Richie. Richie promptly has like five emotional meltdowns over it. So much pining. So much. This is one of very few that has Eddie in the hospital for a realistic amount of time, which I appreciate. When writers have been hoping out of bed after a day or whatever, it really throws me out of the story.

“When can we see him?” Mike asks.

“He’s asleep, but we’ll send in a nurse when he wakes up. I wouldn’t expect it until tomorrow morning at the earliest. He’s been through quite a lot, eleven hours of surgery, and is on a lot of pain medication.”

“Will he survive? What’s the percentage? He’ll want to know the probability, he’s a risk analyst,” Richie says.

The doctor hesitates. “The chances he makes it through the night are 65%.”

“That’s not bad!” Richie says even as his heart drops to somewhere in the region of his feet. The others look at him pitifully. “Tell him we’re here and we love him. Tell him the Losers are here and we’ll see him soon.”

6. ** it’s a nice day to start again by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~6000 words, teen - Post-movie, Eddie wakes up one morning to discover that Richie and a woman had a shotgun wedding in Vegas the night before. Great, sad-but-trying-not-to-show-it Eddie here. (And yes, Richie is a total disaster gay who marries a woman on a whim.)

“Are you sitting down?”

“I didn’t even get out of bed yet! Bev please just tell me what the fuck is happening.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Just- Richie got married.”

“What? No he didn’t,” Eddie scoffs, throwing the covers off. “I’m not - he’s not even dating anybody, I see him all the time. It’s probably just a big joke or something, that’s-”

“He got married, in Vegas. It’s all over Twitter, and he- he sent pictures to the group chat last night. She’s some other comedian. None of us have ever met her, he didn’t invite any of us.”

7. Oh, But He Makes You Laugh by MellytheHun - ~9,000 words, mature - Teenage Eddie has to deal with some serious jealousy when a new friend enters their group. This one has a good, slow realization on Eddie’s part.

The boy is in their grade, though not part of their social sphere; he’s nearly as tall as Richie, with light eyes, and walnut colored hair. Eddie recognizes him from his AP bio class, but can’t inwardly recall his name.

The boy nods toward Stanley while keeping eye-contact with Richie, and informs him, “alligators - they can grow up to twenty feet.”

Richie opens his mouth to argue with the new kid, but he’s cut off.

“Which is weird, cause they usually only grow four.”

Eddie watches in abject bewilderment as a hearty, genuine laugh is startled out of Richie.

8. Richie Tozier: Pray Away the Gay by QueerOnTilMorning - ~4,500 words, teen - The official transcript of Richie Tozier’s comeback Netflix special. A lot of writers try to do Richie’s stand-up routine, but not many can nail it. This one feels realistic and contains actual, like, jokes and stuff.

Because I grew up in this little town called Derry, Maine--nope, absolutely not, do not cheer for that. Fuck Derry! I had this friend, for years he thought I was lactose intolerant, because he'd mention dairy and I'd be like "fuck Derry! Derry tried to fucking kill me!" No, I can eat cheese, I just hate my hometown. They did not fuck with the gays, in Derry. That's probably why I dress so shitty. It's a survival thing. I was already super into dudes. If I had developed fashion sense on top of that? No. Oh my God. It was so--I was so fucking scared all the time.

And like, to put this in perspective, has anyone ever heard of Henry Bowers? Any true crime fans in the house? Henry Bowers, the baby serial killer? Yeah, you listened to that podcast! My friend Bill was on that podcast, doesn't he have a sexy voice? Anyway, Henry Bowers, also known very creatively as The Derry Killer, murdered a bunch of kids the summer we were thirteen. I say we, because that dude was in my fucking class. There was an active serial killer in Derry during my childhood and still, still my greatest fear was that someone would find out I was gay.

9. RICHIE TOZIER IS...THE COMEBACK CLOWN by owlinaminor & tinypersonhotel - ~11,500, teen - An excellent multimedia fic about Richie’s life with Eddie post-movie.

While Richie Tozier never stops talking, Eddie Kaspbrak never stops moving. Listening to a conversation between the two men is akin to watching a pinball machine with two balls going at once, slamming into each other and the walls and the levers and each other, lighting up their surroundings in a trance as mesmerizing as it is chaotic. (Kaspbrack laughed when I told him this metaphor—apparently Tozier spent many an afternoon at the town arcade when they were kids.)

Over the course of one twenty-minute walk with their dog, a beagle named Stanley, through their L.A. neighborhood, they manage to call off their engagement, call it back on, invite me, uninvite me, call the engagement off again, debate eloping, call the whole thing back on but disinvite everyone except me, and finally agree on what color napkins to have at the reception.

10. ** The Jenga Dream Date by stitchy - ~15,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie domestic fluff that starts at Ben and Bev’s wedding. It feels so sweet, and you can just see the happiness radiating off the screen. This is truly the ending they deserve.

Then a seriously, unbearably cute thought occurs to Richie. A thought he can’t immediately share with Eddie, because Bill and Mike each independently cornered him and made him swear not to steal Bev and Ben’s thunder.

Ah, fuck it.

“I can’t think why we would possibly be in another situation in the near future where there’s dancing but also my mother is there for some reason, but holy shit, Eds! I have got to see you dance with Mom. During this very special situation. For which I will make hand calligraphed invitations and hire a photographer and-”

Eddie’s eyes dart in either direction before he lets out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. “Uhhh, I also have no idea when or why that would happen, or what sort of event that would be appropriate for.”

11. Bad Parts In by 50artists - ~9,000 words, not rated - It’s Richie that ends up in the hospital after it all goes down, and Eddie who has the crisis. And also some serious misapprehensions.

"I feel like Richie might be slightly weirded out," Eddie says dryly. "Like oh, hey, we've not spoken for decades and you're the straightest man I know, but it turns out I have been subconsciously in love with you since we were teenagers. I dunno, might make things a bit awkward."

"I'm sorry," says Beverly, "just to clarify, Richie Tozier is the straightest man you know?"

"Dude, have you seen his comedy? It's all, 'I love fucking chicks while drinking beer and watching football'."

"You mean the material that Richie doesn't write himself?'

12. ** We Found Love in a Chili’s ToGo by Amuly - ~14,000, explicit - Richie confesses his feelings to Eddie in the airport before they both headed back to their own lives. This is such a lovely story about friendship and love and putting yourself back together. And there’s some A+++ phone sex.

“Nah, Eds. It’s because I had a big gay crush and needed Stan to bitch at about it.”

Eddie frowned, then shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t bitch at me about it.”

“Well bitching about your secret crush to your secret crush is generally frowned upon, Eds. Kinda fucks up the ‘secret’ part.”

Eddie, bless his tiny heart, didn’t get it for a second. His expression scrunched up, about to say something stupid back to Richie, when his brain processed Richie’s words. In a second his expression fell open, jaw actually agape.

“Oh look: drinks!” Richie grabbed his marg, licking and drinking without even letting the waitress set it down onto the tabletop. Eddie barely had the courtesy left to let her set his down before he was grabbing at it.

13. ** Ask Me About My New Material by twoseas - ~7,000 words, explicit - I could read 10,000 stories about a confused and horny Eddie jerking it to Richie’s stand up without understanding why before they meet again in Derry. This one has a great Richie, who reacts like he got hit in the face with a bat when the truth comes out.

In the restaurant, as the gong resounded around them, Eddie looked up at a four-eyed, messy, middle aged Trashmouth and suddenly it all clicked.

He had two thoughts.

Oh, he realized, it’s because I’m in love with the dumbass.

And, Aw fuck.

14. No Parenthesis by pineapplecrushface - 13,000 words, explicit - In the deadlights, Stan gives Richie some instructions on how to bring him back. Spoilers: it involves an orgy. And Richie and Eddie dealing with their feelings.

“Okay,” Mike said, holding his hands out to placate him, and honestly Richie was really fucking sick of Mike saying crazy shit and then somehow—somehow!—convincing them to do it anyway. “I’m not saying we have to do it. I’m just saying, the ritual exists and we could do it, and now that it’s out there, I feel like you should all have the choice.”

“Great. I choose no. I’m fucking leaving before I get ritualed into giving all my money to a cult leader and I end up spending the rest of my sad short life on an alpaca farm,” Richie said, standing up too fast and stalking across the room.

“Richie,” Bev said, and she sounded, unbelievably, like she was not thinking this was completely insane.

“Are you fucking serious?” He whirled around to look at them. They were all giving him varying levels of Richie, be reasonable, which was a look he was familiar with, but not when it came to sex rituals, for some fucking reason.

15. ** Stupid Deep series by anonymous - ~50,000 words, explicit - Richie has a huge dick, and Eddie is obsessed with it. Come for the super, super hot sex, stay for the sweet romance, twist of angst and happy ending.

It’s been five months since then, and Eddie has spent at least 40% of that time thinking about Richie’s big fucking dick. He spends about 20% working from home, 20% arguing with Richie about dumb shit, and the remaining 30% sleeping—this adds up to 110%, but that’s because there’s overlap between the sleeping and the thinking about Richie’s huge dick in the form of extremely graphic dreams.

He thinks about Richie’s dick in the shower. He thinks about Richie’s dick when they’re watching TV together. He thinks about Richie’s dick when he’s trying to eat breakfast. He hasn’t even seen it hard. But god, he thinks about it. Thinks about it hot and thick in his hand, thinks about it twitching as Eddie strokes it, thinks about it stretching his lips, thinks about it leaking precum all over Eddie’s fingers and tongue and stomach. And, most importantly—most vividly—he thinks about Richie’s dick inside of him, filling him up, fucking him.

At the same time, Eddie also spent a good amount of time, woven through the rest of his daily activities, falling so deeply in love with his best-friend-cum-roommate that it was disturbing at best. There was pining. There were lingering glances. There was lying on Richie’s bed while he was out just to ease the ache in his chest with Richie’s warm, familiar scent, which is disgusting and Eddie hates to think about it. There were, in Eddie’s darkest moments, daydreams about Richie holding his hand and kissing him and telling Eddie he’s in love with him. Like a fucking sap.

16. I’m quite alright hiding today by remusjohn - ~7,000 words, explicit - Eddie kisses Richie out of the deadlights, but Richie doesn’t know if that means anything.

On the first night they don’t do much of anything. They unpack (well, Eddie unpacks his massive bags while Richie tries to figure out how to sign in to his Netflix account on the tiny TV in the living room), and they order in, and they argue over what to watch while they’re eating, and Eddie falls asleep some hours later with his head tucked into Richie’s shoulder, and Richie tries not to think too much of it.

There’s been a lot of that, the last couple of days. Richie doesn’t know how to say, You kissed me to wake me up from the deadlights and I don’t know if you did it to save my life or if there’s something else too, but it’s kind of killing me, man.

So Richie doesn’t say anything at all.

17. Haunt Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Vulcanodon - ~20,000 words, explicit - AU where Eddie and Richie are ghost hunters who get stuck in a very trippy haunted house. This concept really shouldn’t work, and I’m not big on AUs in the fandom, but the relationship between the two of them really sells it. And, obviously, the pining. There’s so much.

The only time Eddie has ever witnessed Richie freaking out was when they had been fucking about in the woods near Montana for their werewolf episode. Eddie had been walking backwards, trying to get Richie and a creepy footprint in frame when he had suddenly felt nothing but air behind him. He had fallen for an impressively long time down the hill, blacking out briefly when a branch caught his head and when he came to Richie had been leaning over him, white and frantic, hands all fisted up in Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie, Eddie, Eds, Richie had said, nearly crying. Are you alright, can you talk?

Is my camera broken? Eddie had managed woozily to say, and for a moment Eddie had thought Richie might do something crazy like slap him or even kiss him.

He hadn’t done either in the end and Eddie remembers the disappointment, even with the haze of a mild concussion.

18. Five Times The Losers Gave Richie Permission by toomuchrootbeer - ~11,000 words, mature - Each loser tries to let Richie know that they know in their own special way.

“No I don’t mind,” Stan says evenly, shrugging his shoulders like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t mind any of it.”

“Cool,” Richie chirps, grabbing his backpack off of the grass and pushing himself to his feet. “Pip pip Edward,” he calls. “Shall we endeavor to find you a cleaner wardrobe?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says back, but there is no venom behind his words.

But then Stan is reaching out, gripping Richie’s arm, “Dude what are you-”

“I don’t mind any of it, Tozier,” he repeats, voice lower and his words somehow more weighty, fixing Richie with an indecipherable look. “And I don’t think any of the other Losers would mind it either. If you wanted to,” he jerks his head in the direction of Eddie, “you know.”

19. String Theory by neverfaraway - ~17,000 words, mature - Richie starts slowly regaining his memories and has a disturbing experience in the deadlights.

The thing is, Richie knows this is a version of himself and Eddie that never existed. He can taste the pretence on the tip of his tongue, but the sticky air seems to sharpen and solidify around him. He can’t remember where he was before this moment, watching his fingers alight on the buckle of Eddie’s hundred-dollar belt.

The Voice wavers and Richie comes pouring through the cracks. It's painful to watch the careful way he places his hands on Eddie’s skin. "Fuck, I missed you," he says. "Even when I couldn't remember, I had a hole right through me, straight through the middle. You left a fucking entry and exit wound."

"Damnit, Richie," Eddie mutters, blinking rapidly. "Beep, beep."

20. hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~25,000 words, mature - Things don’t magically work out after Derry for Eddie. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he goes back to Myra and his depressig life. But at least now he has his friends. He has Richie.

With his memories back now, with all the knowledge of his mother and his placebos and his fake inhaler and his friends, it feels like Eddie has been living the last 27 years in sickly, yellow sepia tones. His memories and even the brief time he spent with everyone at the Chinese restaurant shine in his mind in vivid technicolor, and everything else pales in comparison.

He thought he would die, and now he doesn’t have a plan. His life in New York is miserable and cramped and leaves him feeling small, so he puts it off as long as he can.

The drive isn’t long, even with Eddie taking his time. He takes a detour just to drive along the coast and see the ocean, and stops at any given exit or National Forest along the way that strikes his fancy. He’s still home before nightfall.

21. After Derry series by pineapplecrushface - ~47,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie are both pining and miserable disasters post-movie. Until they finally get their shit together and figure some things out.

He woke when Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and touched his back, under his disgusting shirt. “Hey,” he said. “Your turn. I mean, your turn after I wash my hand again. What did you lie down in?”

“Your mom,” he said, sitting up and glaring at Eddie, who was half-naked, a towel wrapped around his waist. “How do you all look so good and I ended up looking like fucking Christopher Lloyd? Like, not young Christopher Lloyd. Present day.”

Eddie’s hand was still tucked under his shirt, rubbing a path across his lower back. “I guess you did grow into your looks.”

“Oh, fuck you, you weirdly muscular little shitweasel,” Richie said, escaping to the shower so he didn’t have to look at the slope of Eddie’s arms. He was weak for that, the line of a man’s shoulders and back. He was weak for all of Eddie, really. After everything he had seen, he guessed it was something he could admit to himself. There was no panic left in it.

22. for better, for worse by kaspbrak_kid - ~26,000 words, not rated - Eddie has just gotten through a messy divorce and is trying to deal with the fact that he’s been in love with Richie for 30 years, and then he has to go to Ben and Bev’s wedding. Not a great combination of things.

Eddie blows out a shaky breath and puts down his phone, then picks it back up again, restless. He scrolls up through his and Richie’s texts.

They’re not that frequent. They talk in the group chat, mostly. Eddie thinks about texting him all the time, several times a day, and then never does. It’s all just stupid shit, anyway. A dream he had or a movie he saw on TV that he remembers Richie used to like, and does he still like it? Some things his therapist tells him he should say, like that he’s been in love with Richie for somewhere between six months and thirty-odd years.

Instead, most of their private texts are just inane bickering, or Richie trying out jokes on him, or Eddie telling Richie how to clean the cut he just accidentally gave himself opening a can. He could have just googled it. But he asked Eddie.

23. feet on the ground, head in the sky by peggyolson - ~21,000 words, teen - I’m kind of a sucker for the slowburn, falling in love over distance trope. This one does it well, with bonus Richie dealing with his issues and figuring shit out.

Mostly, though, it’s just a slight tug at the back of his mind, another part of his day. A mumbled let me call Eddie, like an afterthought, while he’s tapping his foot in line at Whole Foods.

Eddie always, always answers.

“Edward Kaspbrak,” he chirps during business hours, dry and glib, and Richie will respond in a deep, exaggerated baritone with something awful like Mr. Kaspbrak, your test results are in and unfortunately you will keep shrinking at an alarming rate for the rest of your life, something barely funny that he says just to get a reaction.

(It had been such a mistake to give Richie his work number.)

24. it’s about time that you just unwind by fuckener - ~9,500 words, explicit - Eddie finds out that Richie is gay via his stand-up and promptly loses his mind.

“Yeah? Mine was weird, guys, I’m not going to lie. I came up with this really good idea on how to cause total chaos at a family event, you wanna hear it?” There it was - glasses adjustment, not even past the one minute mark. “If you really want to shake up another dull as fuck Thanksgiving with your parents, just wait ‘til you’re in your forties and your elderly father is spooning out his first helping of mashed potatoes for the night and then drop the bomb that you’ve been gay the whole time. Boom, happy Thanksgiving. Pass the sweet corn, I want to fuck the huge green dude on the can.” People laughed. Richie did that thing with his face between a smile and a scowl. “It’s the long game, yeah, but -”

Eddie slammed his laptop shut.

25. feel this burning, love of mine by floatingonthelehigh - 17,000 words, mature - The clown is a bastard. Richie gets a second chance.

“Don’t leave,” Eddie says quietly, and god fucking damn it, it breaks him that Eddie thinks he ever would.

“No, fuck no, Eddie. I’m not going to.” He adjusts his grip on the jacket against Eddie’s stomach, winces when Eddie gasps in pain. Richie’s lip shakes again as he just keeps talking. “Frankly I’m insulted that you’d think I’d leave you, after just remembering you're my best fucking friend in the world, after twenty seven fucking years. My clown-murdering partner in crime! How could I ever leave you? Fuck no, I’m not leaving you, Eds. Idiot,” He laughs emptily, rubbing Eddie’s cheek, and pauses, beginning to nod to himself as a goal flits into his mind. “I’m going to pick you up, I’m going to get you out of here, to a hospital. Right now. And—” Eddie’s grip on his arm tightens, and he stops.

26. hey there demons (it's me, ya boi) by dharmainitiative - 12,000 words, teen - Is this another ghosthunters AU? Why, yes it is. I don’t know why there are two of these, but I enjoyed them both. This one is much lighter, and I really liked the way that the writer creates a very lived-in feeling as soon as you jump into this universe.

As it was, BuzzFeed wasn’t a bad place to work, despite all the shit Richie gave it. He was paid well, there were always a bunch of cushy chairs everywhere, and the food that got brought in for lunch everyday was way better than the shitty grilled cheeses he ate at home for dinner. And despite what Richie expected, his coworkers were actually pretty cool, all things considered. Sure, they were all millenials who thought landing an internship at BuzzFeed was the height of success, but most of them were friendly, and occasionally funny, and like Richie, just excited to get paid to do something that required little to no effort.

Most of them, at least. There was also Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie met Eddie his first day at BuzzFeed, when he was shown his desk and the incessantly chatty intern that sat at the desk right next to him. Working side by side — literally — let Richie learn a lot of things about Eddie Kaspbrak: he was a neurotic hypochondriac, exclusively owned Polo shirts, and talked faster than Richie could even blink.

27. New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring - 17,000 words, explicit - Post-movie, Eddie divorces his wife, moves across the country and makes himself comfortable in Richie’s home. Richie is totally fine and not freaking out at all.

He clips the wall coming into the foyer, practically crashes over the little table he uses to stack mail—fumbles around with the chain, the deadbolt, before finally wrenching open the door. It doesn’t occur to him until he’s sending it bouncing back against the doorstop, that it might have been a good idea to check the peephole and make sure it actually wasn’t some asshole out for a smash and grab in the middle of the night, or worse — a fan.

Richie would be less dumbfounded by either option.

He squints at the person standing in front of him, blinks.

“I’ve had this dream before,” Richie says, voice still croaky from sleep, “usually you’re wearing less clothes.”

“Jesus christ,” Eddie sighs, and rolls his eyes when Richie jumps back a bit, genuinely startled that it’s not some manufacturing of his sordid imagination. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

28. Drives Me Wild by rustywrites - ~4,000 words, explicit - Eddie and Richie have hotel sex after RIchie wins himself an Emmy.

"I thought I told you no more jokes about how much you love my dick," Eddie says, shifting to straddle Richie's waist in earnest, rolling his hips downward just to emphasize his point, no doubt. His hands are braced on both of Richie's shoulders, pinning him back with his bodyweight, while Richie's hands are on his waist, holding him in place. It's not the most comfortable position, all things considered--Richie's knees are bent over the end of the mattress, his feet still on the floor, and they're both still in their fucking monkey suits.

Richie had tried to make the case with his agent and his manager that he should be allowed to attend the Emmys in the same clothes he always wore (jeans, a shitty t-shirt, a semi-fashionable jacket, you know, the works.) They were good enough for his specials, one of which had earned him the nomination to begin with, but both Anna and Johnathan had pushed back hard, and when Eddie had not-so-subtly sided with them, well. Suit and tie it was.

29. Rewrite by sachi_sama - ~13,000 words, mature - Stan is dead, but somehow only Eddie can see him as they race to beat It. That’s...probably not a good sign. (note: Stan stays dead in this fic.)

“Whoa. Hey, Eds, you being a weepy drunk over there?” Richie asks, and he scoots over into Stan's seemingly empty chair, and Stan vanishes as Richie's hand is suddenly on Eddie's shoulder.

“I just—I saw...” Eddie pauses, and he wipes his hands over his eyes, sniffling. When's the last time he cried? It makes his head hurt every time. “Fuck. I'm sorry, guys.” He stands abruptly. “I'm gonna go splash some water on my face.” He hurriedly exits the room and he hears Mike asking what he saw, but Eddie is already power-walking across the restaurant to the bathroom, aware Dead Stan is hot on his heels.

“Lucky. The bathroom is empty,” Stan says as he leans against the wall. Eddie looks at him, really looks, and he sees the blood on Stan's wrists.

30. ** we are all going forward, none of us are going back series by theappliepielifestyle - ~21,000 words, teen - Richie gets stuck in a time loop and forced to repeat their last stand at Neibolt over and over until he gets it right.

Richie hears himself finish saying Let’s kill this clown and it’s only when he finishes forming the n that reality sets in. What the fuck -

He whirls around. Everyone’s standing around him, just like they were last night - they’re in front of the fucking house, it’s standing again.

“What the fuck,” Richie croaks. “No, come on - what’s going on? Ohhhh fuck.”

He only lets himself stare at it for a few seconds of unbridled hate before he keeps looking at the others, who are now staring at him, pausing from where they’d all taken a step towards the house before looking back and stopping to watch Richie’s nervous breakdown.

31. ** keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theapplepielifestyle - 16,000 words, teen - Eddie dies, sort of, and meets Stan in the afterlife. The two of them realize that they can communicate with their friends in their dreams. Eddie has to watch Richie slowly breakdown in his absence.

32. ** happily ever afters all the way around series by theapplepielifestyle - ~35,000 words, teen - I have so much appreciation for this author’s desire to fix the ending by any means necessary. In this one, that good old turtle lends a hand and sends Richie back in time to fix everything. It’s...a lot.

Then it smooths out into an actual scene, if jumpy: a sigil on wooden boards that look a lot like the floor of Richie’s apartment. The sigil is probably drawn in blood, but it could also be red paint. Although Richie’s being very optimistic about that. Anyway, the dream is mostly that: the sigil being drawn, slow and precise, by Richie. It’s dark in the dream, and the sigil being drawn is overcut with more fleeting images, chased with sounds: Stan’s bloody hand dangling out of a bath. Stan as a kid, on the tail end of saying something as he walks home in the evening. Eddie with blank eyed, slumped in IT’s lair. Eddie as a kid, in mid-argument in the clubhouse. A voice so deep and impossible that it hurts, a voice that reminds him of the turtle’s gaze: come back come back you can change the -

At the end of the dream, the scene will stabilize. Dream-Richie will say some shit he can't make out. Then he'll say the one thing he can make out, which is: I’m coming.

And then he’ll wake up.

LINK TO REDDIE FIC REC LIST PART TWO

#it #reddie #reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #fic recs #ao3 #rec list #damn this took so long #i hope someone gets some use out of it

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hpdabbles · 5 years

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Master Of Death (In Training)

Harry knew that he, after gathering all of the Deathly Hallows, would technically be considered the Master of Death. In theory.

But since he was trying to stop a war, save as many people as he could, and take down a mad man bent on world genocide it slipped his mind. There wasn’t like a grand sign that told him he was now the Master of Death anyway.

Harry had to focus on other things, too preoccupied with the dangers of the war and the final standoff between him and Riddle, to notice the glowing and the sealing of the Deathly Hallows upon his magic, marking him.

After the last battle, he took some time for himself to relax and handle the trauma he built over the last few years.

Or he would have. Had Death, in all its silver cloak and flouting glory, not barged into his room late at night with a wheezy breath, a grave-cold touch and most terrifying of all: a new employee manual.

“It’s not that hard of a job” Death promised him. Harry stared up at the cloaked being in small horrified bemusement, a light silver binder in his hands. “You're more like a temp if anything. You’ll mostly be doing the office jobs, such as writing up the death reports, keeping a chart on reasons of deaths, keeping track of the number of ghost hauntings, and approving or disapproving reincarnations. Really, you’re just going to be a trainee for at least two centuries before any of the fun stuff like soul taking comes into the picture.”

“But I don’t want this job”

“You should have thought of that before gathering the Hallows” Death rebuffs without an ounce of sympathy. The figure, whose face was left in the shadows, an the cloak that hides the gender, glided across the room to sit next to Harry. “Now I know it’s unlikely, but if you find yourself being summoned-”

“Being what!?”

“Don’t interrupt.” Death huffs. It’s odd to hear in a voice that sounds as if five or more people speaking at once. Of various genders, tones, and pitches. “As I was saying, should you find yourself in that situation, you can add your own rules as the summoning will only work in the dimension your change of but you can not bring anyone back to life and you can’t make long-lasting deals. The Deathly Hallows was a rookie mistake by a trainee all Deaths are having to deal with now.”

Harry can’t see the figures face, but he could hear the eye-roll in the last sentence which makes this all the more bizarre. He goes to pinch himself, wincing when his fingers break the skin and yet Death does not disappear from his right.

Grabbing his wand, and casting any spell he knows that could bring him to reality have similar effects. This is real. He’s really the Master of Death and apparently a “Death” in training.

“Oh, Merlin.” He whimpers. Death gently pats his shoulder almost as if it pitied him. It sends a bone-deep shiver down his spine.

“I’ll be your supervisor, along with Muerte. She’ll be over whenever I can’t. Should you have any questions-”

“What does Muerte mean?”

“Spanish for Death”

“Oh”

Death nods. “As I was saying, should you have any questions or concerns call us with the Reapers number extension lines. Good luck Mr. Potter.”

And just like that Death poofs out of sight leaving Harry with the Sliver Binder of Death Trainees, the Cloak of Invisibility, the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. He rubs his face and throws them all into his bedside drawer hoping that if he rolls over to sleep, the objects will be gone in the morning.

But sadly, they are not.

In fact, Harry is only just starting to fall asleep, when he feels an invisible hook launch onto his navel and yank him out of bed. He is launched through what feels like a swirling path of lights, the feeling similar to the one- and only- time he rode a roller coaster before he is slammed against a clear wall.

There is only a short enough pause for his jammies to change into a metallic emerald green cloak that hugs his figure nicely, tied at his waist with a black belt. His shoes are changed to black dragon-skin boots, and his half-face is hidden from view as a hood comes up and over leaving only a bit of his mouth and nose within sight.

He feels trousers, made from the same materials as his boots, wrap around his legs, and a comfortable but firm fitting dark emerald shirt under his cloak.

The items he left in his bedside table, appear in his arms and Harry only has a moment to wonder if he looks as ridiculous as he feels before the hook returns and drags him through the wall.

As he passes whatever barrier that was, he realizes he has entered his death realm, feeling it into his very soul. This is what Death had been talking about when he-they? said he was in charge of and he can feel people and animals’ life candles flickering out even as the summons stops.

Harry is left standing before a very familiar group of people who all gasp in fear at the sight of him. With his new ability to be the one in charge of everyone dying in this dimension, he identifies them all even if they are younger then he is used to.

The Order of Phoenix, but the one before his time.

“What have we done” Alice Longbottom whimpers her wand aimed at Harry who tilts his head at her rounded stomach. She clamps a hand protectively over what he knows is Neville once she realizes his head is tilted in her direction.

Frank Longbottom is quick to step before his wife and unborn child, trembling in place but not willing to back down without a fight. Harry is a little impressed, since the man is, in all intentions and purpose, standing before Death in order to protect his family.

Harry turns his eyes to a red-head woman with a similar round stomach who is aiming her own wand at him. Her pale husband, with his three best friends, are at her side doing the same.

Seeing his mum, his dad, his godfather, uncle, and the traitor almost makes Harry cry.

“Great Power” Albus Dumbledore starts stepping forward “We have called you here in order to request your aid in this war and fear we can not win without your assistance.”

Harry swings his head back to the headmaster. He blinks at him forgetting they can’t see his eyes.

After a moment of no response, the headmaster clears his throat and goes down on one knee. The room holds their breath as the man speaks “I offer you, my soul, in exchange for your aid, Great Power.”

“Oh, Albus.” Minerva McGonagall says with great pain but she does nothing to stop Death. They all knew who would sacrifice themselves before doing the summons, and loath they may be to admit it, losing the headmaster is a small price to pay for the Greater Good.

Harry for his part finally unfreezes. He flips through his binder rapidly looking for what he has to do. The room stares at him as he holds up a hand and says apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m new to this. Um, give me a moment to consult my employee manual, please? I don’t want to take your soul unless I have to.”

“Employee Manual” Sirius Black repeats baffled. “How can literal Death be an employee?!”

“Trainee actually” Harry corrects once he founds the right page. Skim through it he sees that he doesn’t have to take the summoner's soul but he must take something otherwise his supervisors will come and take something in his place.

They could have the right to demand the souls. He rather avoid that, if possible.

Harry searches the room looking for something they all share- since he can sense they all had something to do with the spell- before he gets an idea. “I want everyone’s socks in exchange for help.”

In the long silence that follows his words, Albus sighs “But I like these socks.”

#Hpdabbles #Master of Death (In training)#Part 1 #Harry Potter #In which Harry gets a new job #Gets summon #And scrambles to do his job correctly #Crack

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second-chance-stray · 3 years

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RP Log: Riylli waits for Cravs.

Cravendy Hound - It had been a couple of bells since Cravs had split off from the group. By the time she found her way back to the village, the sky was pitch black and cold. A couple of night owls were still milling about on the sands, but most of the partygoers had returned home by now.

Riylli Aliapoh sat on her own in the sand, hunched over a pile of leftover lantern materials and doing her best to twist the wires into the proper shapes with no other light to go by than that of the moon above. There were already about a dozen lanterns behind her, some with strange designs and a couple that looked like they had been thrown behind her in frustration. Her ears twitched as she heard footsteps approaching, looking up to see Cravs walking along in the darkness of the night. Riylli quickly hopped to her feet, hesitating for just a moment before speaking. "Uh, Hey! You're back! I was beginning to wonder if you had fallen asleep out there or somethin'"

Cravendy Hound: “Wh-what? Yer still ‘ere?” Cravs steps back in shock, clearly not expecting anyone, least of all a company member, to be hanging around at this hour. As such, she hadn’t bothered to keep up appearances. Her hair looks like it’s been tossed back and forth a hundred times, either by wind or by frustrated hands. All her armor is half-loosened, straps slack or buttons unclasped.

Cravendy Hound is thankful that it’s night and, hopefully, Riylli doesn’t notice too much. “Of course I’m back...I don’t live on the beach. What’re ye up to?” She peers over at the experimental lanterns.

Riylli Aliapoh 's eyes flicked downwards briefly to examine the rough state of the Roegadyn's appearance, her Keeper eyes quite well suited for the dark, but quickly return upwards so as not to be rude. "Oh, I was just working on some lanterns, and... Uh..." Riylli hesitated again, the line she had been practicing for the past bell or so sounding a lot stupider now that she was saying it out loud. She let out a soft sigh before continuing, "...Just... Thought it would be good to wait for you, I guess. See how you're holding up after... that..." She spoke awkwardly, extremely out of her element with this

Cravendy Hound stiffens, mind racing to identify what ‘that’ could refer to. The celebration as a whole? Or, perhaps more likely, her reaction to seeing the lanterns float out to sea bells earlier? Cravs coughs awkwardly, looking away for a second as she feels heat rise into her cheeks. Normally, she’d come up with an excuse to cover it all up. Sand got in her eye, shit like that. But something about tonight pushed Cravs to speak more honestly.

Cravendy Hound: “Oh. Right. Well. Thanks for waitin’.” Cravs takes a seat on the sand next to Riylli. She keeps her eyes forward, pointed towards the water. “Truth is, I’m barely ‘eld together as it is. I guess I was both ‘appy and...sad with ‘ow it all ended.”

Riylli Aliapoh blinked, staring for just a moment before taking a seat again as well. It felt a bit unlike Cravs to be this open, but Riylli thought she might understand, the Miqo'te not exactly feeling like her usual self either. She picked back up the lantern she was working on, turning it over a bit to remember where she had left off. "...I tried to make to make one that would float, but I think the materials are too heavy for that..." She said, trying to make awkward small talk for a moment before giving up, putting the lantern back down and looking up towards the moon with a sigh. "Do you... wanna talk about it? I'm not exactly great with this whole... 'feelings' thing either but... I can listen, if you like?"

Cravendy Hound peeks over at a ‘lantern’ with a particularly unique design. “Well, ye get top marks for creativity. Really pushin’ the envelope for what can be considered a lantern,” Cravs teases, but the edges of her voice are rough with weariness. For the moment after, she watches the tide go in and out as she considers what to say. Maybe it’d help, maybe it wouldn’t.

Cravendy Hound: “I don’t want to talk about it. But...I think I should anyway. Doin’ shit I don’t want to do has worked so far,” Cravs eventually mumbles. She gives Riylli a worried look. “Ye sure ye want to listen? I won’t be mad if ye want to go ‘ome or somethin’.”

Riylli Aliapoh shoots Cravs a glare as she mocked her lantern, though to be fair, Riylli had been going off of a decade old memory for the design. Now was not the time to start arguing though, holding herself back from a surely witty retort and instead nodding to what Cravs said next. "...Ava says it's good to talk about these things." She said, going quiet for a few seconds before remembering Cravs would not know who that is. "Er... Ava is the matron of my clan. A mean old lady, but she cares about us in her own way. And she's a lot better with this stuff than me for sure."

Cravendy Hound smiles slightly, and then lightly bumps Riylli on the shoulder with a closed fist. “If the rest of yer clan is as unruly as ye, then the top lady has got to ‘ave balls of steel to keep ye all in line. And that’s a good thing. I’d like to meet ‘er one day.”

Cravendy Hound grows silent again as she considers where to start. So many memories were still razor sharp, as if one wrong step could send her careening back into outright depression. She takes a sigh and speaks, heart pounding. One has to try. “Do ye know why I’m an officer at ‘eartwood?”

Riylli Aliapoh managed to grin at the playful shoving, "Yeah, some of us definitely deserve a matron like her. Doubt anyone else could manage to keep us together." She said in agreement, though the moment of levity did not last too long as Cravendy continued. She shook her head. "I just assumed it was because you looked big 'n scary." She offered, hoping to add a bit of lightheartedness of her own

Cravendy Hound: “Aw, thanks,” Cravs laughs. It was good to know some things didn’t change.

Cravendy Hound laces her fingers tightly together, arms drawn around her knees against the chilly night. “If only it were that simple. Truth is, it’s because of who came before me. ‘er name was Aiswyda, and she was everything that I’m not. Friendly, warm...good. And all my problems were dumped onto ‘er.”

Riylli Aliapoh looked at Cravs in silence for a moment, not really sure how she was supposed to respond now. "You're... friendly..." She offered, though Riylli clearly had a bit of a warped view on how friends were supposed to act. She hesitated, giving up on that path as she turned her head downwards to focus on her lantern. "...I'm guessing that's who Rising's lantern was for then..?"

Cravendy Hound can’t help but laugh at Riylli’s attempt at lightening the mood. Guess it worked. “Piss n’ wind, don’t lie to me. But yeah. That’s who the lantern was for. I just wish...” Cravs trails off.

Cravendy Hound: “The reason why Dirtpatch was destroyed in the first place. Why so many died. I may ‘ave not known where the ball would roll, but I -was- the one to kick it all off,” Cravs muses. “I don’t know ‘ow to explain all this, but thanks to me, Wyda was given a bad ‘and in life. Took a fall when it was mine to take. But despite everythin’ I did to ‘er, she still chose to save me. I...” Cravs sets her jaw, tight. “...I’m probably not makin’ a lick of sense.”

Riylli Aliapoh smiles again, feeling the tension lifting off her chest for just a moment as she begins to think they might actually make it through this, only for it all to return as Cravs continued her story. Riylli looked to the Roegadyn, then back up to the moon as she tried to take some comfort in it's light. "...S'okay, we got all the time we could need right now..."

Cravendy Hound: “Why I draw breath when others more deservin’ lie six feet under...I never stop wonderin’ why.” She cranks her grip tighter and tighter still, until her knuckles are bone white and shaking. For a moment it feels like she’s falling, but Riylli’s words anchor her back into the present. Cravs sniffs, angry at herself for being like this, but at the same time grateful to share her thoughts.

Cravendy Hound lets out a haggard breath into her knees. “Yeah...but I wish the future would come faster. Ah, fuck.” She pushes her feet into the sand and, surprisingly, it’s warm underneath. “Fuck.”

Riylli Aliapoh goes quiet, her ears flattening and her tail finding its way into her lap. She looks away from the moon, staring into the sand for a moment just feeling... brittle. She's quiet for a long time, even after Cravs finishes speaking, though every second that passes just makes her chest feel tighter and tighter. Riylli finally grits her teeth, turning around and selecting three of the lanterns from her pile that actually looked serviceable. She placed them in front of her and tapped each in order. "Akosha, Kebbe, Mom." She said, her voice sounding rather distance before going quiet again, simply staring at the lanterns in front of her

Cravendy Hound - Cravs feels like a coiled spring, tense to the point of breaking. But this time, when she lets out a breath, her nerves leave with it. For once, she’s loosening, and the space between the ribs and lungs doesn’t feel so tight anymore. Because she clearly sees that she’s not alone. Because Riylli is here to listen.

Cravendy Hound stares hard at the lanterns. “What about ye? Ye want to talk about it?”

Riylli Aliapoh paused for a long moment, but soon found herself nodding. She had not really realized it until now, but she had not been waiting out here all this time just for Cravs' sake. She had had a feeling the Roegadyn might understand her own story, and her words just now had confirmed it. Still, it took her a while to begin speaking. "Akosha and Kebbe were my sisters... And mom was... well, mom." She hesitated, finally looking back up towards the moon as she tried to figure out where she was supposed to start her story. Another long moment of silence passed, Riylli just staring upwards lost in thought, before she eventually let out a sigh. "If you tell anyone what I'm about to say, I'll kill you. Got it?" She said, shooting a glare over to Cravs preemptively before turning back to the lanterns and continuing. "...When I was a kid, I was pretty much the complete opposite I am now. Dresses, dolls, all that... stupid, flowery shite..." She muttered, giving Cravs a moment to get whatever jokes in she might have ready

Cravendy Hound gives her all the space and time she needs, and simply waits. When Riylli threatens her with death, Cravs raises her hands defensively, though from the tired smile on her face, it’s clear that she’s just trying to lighten the mood. “Oy, I could say the same. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

Cravendy Hound: “I used to think that sort of stuff was stupid too. But not anymore.” Cravs plainly states with a shrug. “Only reason I don’t wear dabble in that kinda stuff is because other people’ll give me ‘ell over it.”

Riylli Aliapoh gave Cravs a hesitant look, still waiting for the jokes to come for a long moment before finally continuing. "..Anyways. I had thought it was all fine at the time. Akosha and Kebbe would go hunting, me and mom would cook what they caught. I never bothered to learn the bow, or the spear, or anything really outside a stupid sewing needle. Just a dumb stupid kid who was only ever worried about her hair." Riylli grit her teeth, clearly angry at the memory. She had to pause to take another deep breath, trying to calm herself down before continuing, needing her composure for the next part. "...And then... The Calamity happened. Fire raining down from the sky, beast and seedkin rampaging, the elementals throwing their stupid temper tantrum... We had to leave our home behind and run for Gridania, but things kept popping out of the trees to attack us like we were the ones at fault for everything going on." She paused, her hand going up to feel the scar on her eye, deciding at this point to just rush through the rest of the story. "A treant got a good swipe at me and my mom, and Akosha and Kebbe stayed behind to give us a chance to run. And that was the last time I ever saw them..."

Cravendy Hound digs deeper into the sand as she listens. Cravs feels mad on Riylli’s behalf - the world was just like this, wasn’t it? Calamities and disasters and suffering that had no end. It made her want to tear something, anything, in half. She lets out a huff, rips her hands from their grip, and plunges them both beneath the sand as if she were holding something hot.

Cravendy Hound: “Ye were just a kid, and no one could’ve stopped the Calamity,” Cravs states. She opens her mouth again and tries to find just the right words to say, but eloquence was never her strong point. So she just lets her heart take the wheel. “That’s terrible. Did ye ever go lookin’ for them?”

Riylli Aliapoh looked down, realizing she was holding her tail in her hands and quickly letting it go. "No, I didn't. I... Don't think I could handle seeing the home I grew up with all charred and destroyed." She paused and took another deep breath, realizing she had been doing that a lot and that it was not really helping. "I know I couldn't have stopped the calamity, but... I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I had stayed behind and fought with them. If I had just practiced the bow instead of the needle. If I had just been a bit stronger... I could've saved them. We all could've made it to Gridania together. If I had just..." She trailed off, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. Riylli grit her teeth brushed it away angrily, not bothering to care about smudging the paint on her cheek. "...Sorry. I was supposed to be listening to you, not dropping all my mistakes on you... Doubt that'll help at all.."

Cravendy Hound - Though the story is different, Cravs is all too familiar with what Riylli’s feeling. It feels like looking into a mirror in some ways...Being caught in what-ifs, the guilt. But seeing it from the other side is eye opening and for a moment, Cravs is stunned. “O-oh...no, listenin’ to ye ‘elped. I know ‘ow ye feel, and it’s ‘onestly, it’s torture.”

Cravendy Hound: “It’s not somethin’ that’ll go away. It just becomes a part of ye, and one day we’ll both be comfortable livin’ with those burdens.” Cravs struggles to hold back her own doubts. So many ‘maybes’ she wants to inject into her sentences because, the truth is, she doesn’t know what’ll happen. But by trying to be strong for Riylli, she finds a confidence she didn’t know she had. And by saying those words, she helps herself in turn.

Riylli Aliapoh glanced to Cravendy, scanning her face in the darkness. She could see the Roegadyn was not as confident in her words as she was trying to be, yet oddly enough Riylli found it comforting. She let out a sigh as she tried to relieve herself of her own tension, picking back up the near-finished lantern she had been working on and beginning to fiddle with it again. "...Do you mind if I ask what happened to Aiswyda? I dumped all my garbage on you, s'only fair you get to do the same"

(Cravendy Hound) ALSO I WILL SAY ;_; pain. wanna toss these two into the dryer and have them come out warm and fluffy )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Sad emotional night rp, but Riylli gets to feel less alone because of it and hopefully Cravs gets to feel the same!

Cravendy Hound tries to think of a way to tell Riylli without sounding insane, cutting corners, or talking her ear off. But it’s a situation where she can only choose two, or maybe even one. Cravs chuckles at what she’s come up with. Well, why not. Time to look like a loony.

Cravendy Hound: “She, er. Was kinda like a ghost walkin’ around in my body, but for over a year. But like a ghost that I unintentionally summoned. And one that didn’t know what she was.” Cravs dances around the word primal with mixed results. “Anyway, eventually she found out what she was, and thought we both couldn’t exist. So she chose what she thought was best for everyone...”

Cravendy Hound shakes her head in frustration - what a pisspoor attempt at explaining that situation. “It didn’t make much sense to me either.”

Riylli Aliapoh stopped working on the lantern, staring at it blankly as she listened to Cravs'... 'interesting' story. There was a long, looong moment of awkward silence, and then Riylli just began working on the lantern again. "Dissociative identity disorder?" She said, an awfully big term for such a dumb Miqo'te. "Or... Do you mean like... Literally..." She also hesitated to use the word 'primal', but it was obvious she was thinking it. "I feel like... That might be a story we might not manage to get through in one night, huh?"

Cravendy Hound: “What’s that mean? Er, or if it means what I think it means then...maybe? I don’t know. She was ‘er own person for sure though. But I agree. Maybe when I tell it a second time, it’ll come out better. One can hope.” Cravs sends Riylli a defeated smile.

Cravendy Hound has been chilled to the bone from being out for so long. She sniffs, followed by a shiver. “Bugger me, what time is it? ‘ow long ‘ave we been out for...Any longer and we’ll catch a cold.” Cravs stumbles up and brushes the sand off of her. “Come on, let’s go.”

(Cravendy Hound) AIGHT I gotta go eat now xD )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Okay! Lemme write up a closer, I'll send it to your discord! (Cravendy Hound) AIGHT I gotta go eat now xD )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Okay! Lemme write up a closer, I'll send it to your discord! (Cravendy Hound) ah cool!! KK, I'm gonna dash off :D )) (Cravendy Hound) ty for the rps! )) (Cravendy Hound) THIS WAS GOOD very blessed )) (Cravendy Hound) they can look out for each other :3 )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Yeah ^o^ Riylli talked a bit longer than I intended, but it was still nice letting them know they arent alone

"Nooot just yet" The Miqo'te girl said as Cravs, rushing the next few steps of the lantern as quickly as she can without destroying it. Luckily she had gotten enough practice in with the last dozen, and managed to create a serviceable lantern with just a few more twists of wire and plenty of glue. She holds it up into the air, admiring it for a moment before standing and shoving it into the Roegadyn's hands. "Here. I was just gonna make the three at first, but you were takin' so long to get back that I thought... Maybe you'd like to have one as well? Y'know... For Aiswyda." She says, awkwardly rubbing her arm, unsure if she was maybe stepping over the line. "C'mon, we can set them off and then head back to Heartwood." She said, leaning down and wrapping both her arms around the three lanterns she had already made before rushing off towards the waters edge. It was not exactly the same as the festivals Riylli had had when she was a young girl, but in the dark night with the moon reflecting down onto the water, the sight of those lanterns slowly floating away to join the light of the stars felt familiar enough to bring the girl back to a time where everything was simpler. Back when the world made sense, and she didn't have to fight so hard just to feel worth her existence. Riylli would not say anything else as they watched the lanterns drift away and out of sight, feeling like there was nothing more that needed to be said between the two after tonight. They were both messed up, but they were not alone. That was enough for her, and it was time to go home.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Riylli Aliapoh #;_;#both messed up but not alone #such feels

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hinac0lada · 4 years

Text

neck deep

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oikawa tooru/reader 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: another attempt at angst. this was inspired by a dream i got the other night lol. so it’s very different from any other fic i’ve written + i’m kinda trying something new. [ graphic by me ]

they say dreams are like a shadow of history you’ve lived in a previous life. dreams stirs the imagination of one. like a cold, grey darkness. similar to a lonesome and hollow place. it’s like you can’t imagine stuff like that are what dreams are made of.

but what if dreams were like a calling? a premonition. a warning. suddenly dreams have become scary, like shedding light to an old folk tale.

lately, oikawa realizes his dreams may have a deeper meaning to them than he initially thought.

he vividly remembers the last place his dream took place. it was in a parking lot. he doesn’t know why since he doesn’t even have a license nor a car yet, but he peers through it anyway. he couldn’t see a plate number, but he remembers seeing vibrant colors of neon lights. red and blue, he recalls.

he starts up the car, with the engine roaring to life. he waits for a moment to warm up the car, the luminescent lights inside glowing for indicators of certain buttons. oikawa steps on the gas pedal, accelerating to wherever the road ahead were to take him. sometimes it appeared endless, often leading him to a cold and empty cloud of space. at times, he feels as though he wasn’t even the one steering the wheel. the headlights were on. he doesn’t remember turning them on himself. but it doesn’t matter. there appeared to be nothing on the road. nothingness, it seemed.

oikawa takes a deep breath in, inhaling whatever fresh air he was surrounded with. he suddenly felt the air clog up. he felt like a fish out of water. he was beyond terrified and confused. a couple of dreadful minutes of feeling like he lost the ability to breath, it all came back. it choked him to breathe in multiple scents all at once.

moments after an endless drive to nowhere, cars materialized out of thin air. all appear to be going in the same opposite direction. he was alone in his own lane. he observes each car passing by. they all had different sizes, ranging from minivans, micro, pickup trucks and small cabs. the only thing was, they didn't have any color nor shape. they were all silhouettes. it made him feel unease, as if at any moment, one would suddenly drift into his direction and slam his car out of the way. death by car accident. either one of these cars could be a symbol. vehicles of destruction, he thought. it was alarmingly fitting.

a silhouette manifested beside him in the passenger seat. he couldn't say he was surprised. the unknown figure just sat there, no words spoken. none of them spoke for a majority of the ride.

oikawa tries to talk to the figure seated beside him. he didn't know why, but he felt the need to. it's like he knew this mass of darkness in the real world. the mass was familiar to him.

even though he can feel the cold air it emitted, he feels warmth and solidarity. it wasn't a pleasant match, he'll give that. it made him feel bitter at the distasteful feeling. still, the figure gave no signs of moving or talking. by now, it's fixated on a much more humane form than just a dark floating mass of mist. he couldn't identify if it was a man or woman though.

but why would that matter anyway? it was stupid to question it in the first place.

oikawa felt helpless. he's arrived at their destination. it was a beauty salon surrounded by neighboring houses and convenience stores. it was so out of place. upon his inspection, the salon inside lead to an apartment. it was so surreal.

he finally gets out of the car, shutting the car door firmly and shifts towards the run-down building. he's blocked by a woman. she was fairly the same height as him, albeit a bit shorter. hair at a [h.l] length. it was most definitely you in the flesh. the only difference from the real you was your eyes. dull, [e.c] irises seem to blend in with a colorless sheen of black; engaging in the pitch black sea of darkness.

he tries to speak but soon faltered when he couldn't even hear his own voice. your dead, fish-like eyes were unnerving. never blinking and cold. oikawa raises an arm out to touch you - to have some sort of contact and feel something akin to warmth. he felt so cold, but you only moved to avoid the hand reaching for your head. he didn't know why this action left him feeling numb. in reality, it wounds him more than he reap.

you took off running, making the gap between you two stretch even wider. he failed to notice the gap that formed the moment he found you. you ran inside the door of the one building that stood out more than the rest. he follows you, naturally. he looked like a lost puppy; all cold, searching for a place that would welcome him.

oikawa was shaken to the core. it wasn't that he was bothered by the transparent plexiglass was blocking him from making his way over to you, but it was the way you looked at him. you both were staring at each other down through the glass, one with wearisome eyes and the other a mute.

your face suddenly contorted into multiple expressions; from dumbstruck, sorrow, grief, disgust and finally rage. all emotions that he felt were directed at him.

he tried read your moving lips, as he couldn't even hear your voice from the other side, but he couldn't catch a word you were saying. your lips moved too fast for him to make out a sentence. he places his face closer to the glass, pressing his ear against it in hopes of making out something. anything, even if it was muffled. he jumped back a deafening sound of a high pitch octave waved through his ears. he hunches over at the tingling feeling he felt.

then he heard a sound. it was far away, distant. but as he stayed hunched in a fetal position, the voice got louder and louder. it was an echo coming from every direction. an echo comprised of you.

"look at you. so pathetic. i don't think i've ever seen a sadder sight." a giggle came from the left. your figure stood still beyond the thick layer of glass that proved to be a barrier between you two. he didn't need to take another look to know you were nowhere near him.

he hears snickers and mumbles of agreement behind him. "i can't believe i let him take away months worth of my life. i can never take those back." your voice seethed.

the color of the sky shifted to one of burgundy. the pop of color filled the dark void he was surrounded in, with the red-maroon like color kissing his skin in silence.

your laugh echoed everywhere as he leans his weight on one leg, staggering to stand up in his shaken state. you knew his vulnerability. you knew about his emotional state. he couldn't deal with it all at once, especially if it came from you.

"you think i care about you? please! am i that desperate to you?"

he whimpers, the ache in his heart growing ever so slowly.

"i don't even know what i saw in you."

his lips trembled.

"i don't ever want to see you again."

he trudged towards the glass barrier, hands shaking as he breathed a puff of air on the glass, fingers writing words he hoped you'd get. you had to.

please come back to me

in response to his poorly written message, you placed a palm on the glass, as if you were reaching out to him from your side.

i still love you

he can tell the difference though. he knows you didn't mean it. you never did.

so he ran away.

after crumbling back to the man he once was, he returned to the drivers seat, tears blurring his vision as he slammed his foot on the pedal, desperate to get out of that place. he didn't care where he ended up in. as long as it was far away from here. the road was dark and never-ending. he thinks back to the previous vehicles that drove pass him - probably hours or even days ago - and wishes how he should've just gotten rammed into. it wouldn't be so bad, would it?

time was nonexistent at this point.

oikawa woke up crying. his tears fell silently on his face. he was a bit startled, having awoke to a wet stain on his cheek. he brings up a finger to touch the drying tears. it's just a dream, he reminds himself. he squints his eyes in the dark, turning his head to find another source of light other than the moon shining through the windows of his apartment. his eyes lock on the alarm clock resting on the small cabinet beside his bed. it read 3:56 am.

he feels the bed shift, causing him to take a breather. he gives himself a moment to relax but he can't. he looks down on his shaky palms, envisioning your sleeping figure coddled up to a pillow beside him.

it just felt too real.

#oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa fic #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x you #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #im sorry this probably didnt make any sense LOL #dreams are my reality #i had to write it #i remember it too well #but i changed it to suit oiks better

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kaetastic · 5 years

Text

YOUR EMPTY WORDS

pairing: Deceased!Regulus Black X Reader

summary: Regulus passing had left Y/N with creeping memories. Despite her attempts to warn his mess of an older brother, she had failed. Finally, her dead lover’s brother had met her once again.

word count: 3.2k+

warning: angst, mention of death, tears, denial, grief

note: NOT MY BEST WORK. Sorry, I haven’t been posting lately, I just finished my exams and though I read- my writing wasn’t that active. I’ve been feeling so empty with a hole inside of me, I feel like something’s wrong but I don’t know. Anyways, enjoy and take care 💕💓

A muffled force on the front door vibrated through the petite house. The faint fragrance of her freshly batch of sticky dough filled the air, a low hum produced by the oven as it heated the contents, a melody created by the ticking of the small timer that rested firmly onto the heating glass; the familiar smell coated her heart with joy as a short play of her past previewed itself in her head. The gluey lump connected her fingers like frail bridges that were pulled down as if a heavyweight stepped onto it. Her eyes glossed away from the counter that had been sprinkled over with flour, scattering as it prevents the ability for the dough to stick itself onto the area.

Nudging her head to peek below the overhead cabinets through the set of the wooden counter, shadows of feet blocked the sunlight as it plays a light show. The window had been closed with a curtain. That is how she liked it. It was no use if she had poked her head to take a quick glimpse of those who stood in front of the house for it was blocked by a tall-standing hedge. She cursed at her frequent memory loss of forgetting to remove it. How she always thought of doing it, to only end up not doing said-removing.

“Just a minute!” She yelled out, frantically shaking her wrists over the sink, drips and strands plopped away to slam itself onto the walls of the vessel as it screamed a splatter. With a soft rinse, the leftover grease glazed her fingertips; nothing the apron couldn’t handle. The hurried wipes on the covered fabric left drag of her wet hands left a mark, like tracks of tires on a sludge of snow.

Shuffles of feet dragged across the vigorously clean floor with no left visible speck of dust, hard work clearly pays off. She cleared her throat, muttering short syllables words under her breath- wincing when it sounded too high. It was not often for her to have visitors nor guests, due to her detachment from society. She wore a widened smile, displaying her twinkling teeth. It lost. Corners of her lips quirked down like wilted flowers; pent up anger sipped through her. The discontent she had managed to stuff in a box jumped out as if the lock had cut open. The grip on the handle tightened at the face she wished she hadn’t met. The resemblance between him and his brother was too similar, she hated it. How dare he? Bringing up his face anytime he wanted. She gritted her teeth as her nostrils flared red, the prominent veins pulsed in her neck.

“I see you’ve taken the liberty and pack up all your chivalry to finally talk to me. What a delight isn’t it? Well, it was nice to see you,” Her hands flicked to slam the door shut with no hesitation, as if she had planned this a long time ago. Slight pride in her ignited at her wise choice. The only sound that echoed through the house was those emitted from the kitchen, the whooshes from the passing vehicles and the silence that placed itself between the trio and her. Not the sweet sound of the door meets the frame. Pent up rage prodded itself, if she was alone- with her own emotions, she could’ve fallen down on her knees and begged. Begged for the return of her fallen lover. However, it was accompanied. Sorrow didn’t come alone for it walked side by side with anger. The feeling she had to face all by herself to overcome the darkness that cowered over her.

In the corner of her eyes, she noticed another pair of heads that stood behind him. But the redness painted the background of Sirius. Maybe, just maybe- if he had come sooner, or if he was there to reassure of the loss of someone from both of their lives, she wouldn’t be so pressed or uptight about the situation. The sight of him sickened her. Narrowed eyes, she tried to ignore the poking words that desperately wanted to fall off her tongue. It took her a master to accept silence while her endless days of sleep as voices spoke to her, it had no mercy. The world had no mercy.

The tension between the two was so prominent, the passersby would glance at the woman who had her hair flared up with raging fire. The ball of aura that surrounded the pair waved thundering electricity. Even the youngest who wore round glasses pointed it out. He looked so familiar. But she couldn’t lay her finger on it. “What are you doing?” She stressed out every syllable, the grip she held on the door could’ve formed a dent, possibly cracked it in half if he managed to push her to the edge. Glancing at his foot that sat in between the frame and the door, preventing her ability to make a quick escape; a scowl formed on her lips.

Sirius’s untamed and wild hair matched well with his personality, crazy and on the verge of being labelled as a psychopath, or what the wizarding world has already named him as, a murderer. Or it was due to the fact it was windy. Nonetheless, she was sick of him. The brother of the man she loved had never bothered to check with her during the days all she wanted to do was let go. It was selfish for her to say that someone should’ve visited her regularly. But she had no one left.

Disappointment and frustration laced the air; a twinkle of content glittered in the space between them, “Please, hear me out Y/N.” She scoffed, she couldn’t help but be amused by his stubbornness and determination. As if she would do so. Arms crossed, she quirked an eyebrow at the wizard.

“What is there you could possibly say? Hm?” The papers of his face splattered on every wizarding walls she has walked by was being sharpened; ready to slither his throat. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be in Azkaban? Where you belong?” Sirius could not help but feel the drumming of his veins, a frail crack formed over his heart, that was emptied out by the hellhole he was forced to live in. Leaving nothing but blood pulsing out and all the joy he felt dumped out, sucked in by the grey creatures. Mouth gaped open, he was ready to speak out, to defend himself when someone had done so before he had the chance.

“Wormtail- Peter, I mean, was the one who killed those muggles, not Sirius.” With his string chord of a voice, he sliced the tension. Remus sent him a reassuring smile when he whipped his head back to face his long-life friend, his nearly only existing one. Harry glanced at the adults who stood in front of him with confusion stroked in his eyes, wondering with killing curiosity that terribly suffocated him.

Sirius cleared his throat to face the person he desired to sit with and talk about the thing that has been bugging him ever since. He couldn’t help but notice the glimpse of those who walked past, judging their choice of outfits for the sunny yet windy day, “Please Y/N, I beg of you. Let us in and we can talk.”

His voice irritated her. If she had to compare it to a sound, it would be like the screeching of fingers scratching a blackboard. Ever since Hogwarts, his voice was of nothing but whining, “Sirius is still considered as a vigilante, please?” If only the little kid wasn’t present, she would’ve slammed the door.

With a huff, she plopped herself onto the couch, the seat groaned at the abrupt addition of weight. Arms crossed with her back leaned onto the couch, her eyes narrowed towards the uninvited guests. She wouldn’t be in this situation if she would’ve just shut the door onto his face, just like he did with hers… and Regulus’. Although the unstable walls shivered, she had to be reasonable. Because that was how she had to cope with her farewell of her only lover.

An ear-pitching screech from the timer rung through their ears but Y/N seemed unfazed, not flinching a muscle. The youngest of the group glanced at the open kitchen, towards the, what he hoped would be the silence breaker. As if she could feel the annoyance that twitched in him, she raised an open hand in the air- twirling her fingers without turning back to even glance at what she was doing. Harry stared in awe. The sight of floating utensils flew from one side of the kitchen to the other, some moved around, clashing with the metal sink before soft rinsing of water washed the dirty tools. ‘Magic is brilliant’ thought Harry. Even though being a wizard himself, he couldn’t help but feel his heart rise with light amusement. Harry watched as the door of the oven opened ajar- a tray pulled out, littered on it were treats and baked goods worth salivating for.

The still Hogwarts’ student flinched as a tray made its way to rest on the coffee table that separated the group. Somehow wary if she would poison him, Sirius reluctantly leaned forward to grab one of the filled glass. His sips laced with the sounds that echoed out of the kitchen as if someone was actually partaking in working in the kitchen.

Remus couldn’t help it. He had already scanned the room. He hoped no one saw. He wasn’t nosy, just curious; he liked to call it as so. It felt like home. It was her home. There were marks that seemed sentimental or lovable. Cabinets with glass as a transparent material allowed the displayed items to show itself, a twinkling gold ball glittered into his eyes, Remus winced at the abrupt beam. She was never part of Quidditch. He remembered he had seen her sit on the field many times when teams were participating, he had never saw her on a broom. So he jumped to the right conclusion, it wasn’t hers.

The throb of his heart was something he couldn’t ignore when his eyes landed on a framed photo of a grinning couple, who seemed to be the happiest on the world… as if nothing was against them.

“So? Speak.” She knew she was being harsh, she knew she should’ve controlled the slash of her tongue. But if someone was to avoid you for years, when all you wanted was to sit with them- to converse with one another. To set a base, a foundation, she wasn’t at fault if she said her frustration got the worse of her. Sirius nodded, he cleared his throat as his mind formed the words he desperately wanted to speak out.

“Well, first off, I- uh, wanted to say sorry..,” A scoff fell of her lips at his words. That felt empty and worthless at such time. His eyes twitched, worry angered in his chest. Not wanting to misunderstand him, he did not hesitate to continue his words. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you- when my brother left. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I was a mindless idiot!”

“I’m sure you still are.” Sirius ignored her comment.

“I was selfish… for two years you tried to talk to me, but all I did was ignore you.” His head fell down as his shoulders hunched in disappointment, forehead resting on his palm, massaging his temples in an attempt to eradicate the stinging tension.

A slight tinge of satisfaction grew in her chest when she heard the words she had been hoping for, dreaming of. The whole time she thought it would be over, the closure to her story, it wasn’t. It did not feel like the end of a chapter, it wasn’t her closure. There were too many words caught in her heart, all stuffing the chambers which bled., “How about your brother?”

Sirius snapped up to face her, confusion laced his eyes, the windows to the soul they say- if it was true, all anyone would be able to see were the joy memories he had, taken away by the monsters that walk on the floors of the prison, “Huh?”

The corners of her lips quivered at the thought of having a murderer sitting in her house, “Have you ever thought about him? His death? Have you ever mourned for his fall? You haven’t!” Remus was quick to shoot up to try his best to hold her down, his heart ached when she trembled, sobbing her tears that she had been familiar with ever since.

Although he had to maintain as the emotionally stabled one, the years he spent in Azkaban felt forever, it got him, “I have! He is my brother!” He couldn’t help but feel accused on as a finger was pointed at him. It was like the past all over again.

“You chose your friends over him!” It was true, ever since Sirius had been kicked out of the Blacks family- she had never seen him try to talk to his younger brother. The only time they conversed was the day after Sirius ran away to the Potter’s, she could still feel the silence had echoed through the great hall. It was merely a short one. But other than that, they were like strangers; who once had been so close, where the lingered strings were snipped off, the only connection that held frail between them.

Sirius had his own pride too, he was exhausted of being the one to blame ever since the accusation of the murders, without a thought, he yelled back with no attempt to cower the anger away, “He chose the dark side! How about you? You’ve walked willy nilly across the school, stuck to him! Surely you’ve too!”

Remus snapped his head to his friend, who panted with popped out veins, jaw clenched with crashed eyebrows. The body he held in his arms twitched, if it wasn’t for him- she would have crashed down and slumped onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. Her body goes limp. She tried to find comfort in it. The tremble in her voice flipped the cards of hearts upside down, “He was 18, and we were engaged. Where were you?”

His mouth fell to falter open at the overwhelming words that had summarized everything. The sentence that he had formed in his head now diminished at lost. Where was he?

“While you partied away from the house… he left. And though I tried to talk to you… it seemed like all the love you had for your little brother, didn’t even exist,” Silence now covered the house, no sound made by the kitchen as a heart ached. “Yes he chose the wrong side, but he did something you will never be able to, Sirius,”

Harry rested his gaze on her, “He was a man of his own words.” The two figures who were present understood none for only the two did. It finally struck him after realizing what she was going on about, Sirius’s eyes widened with sorrow, at the promise he had made with his little brother. Like a swirl of memory, hurricanes of grey twirled to his past, ‘Sirius! When we grow up… could you be my best man?’ The lightness that was familiar to his chest rose. ‘Of course Regulus.’

His face dulled, dragged down with no reflection in his eyes. ‘It used to be so simple.’ Ear pricking honks from the road echoed through the cracks of the house. No one spoke. The student finally raised his voice, still unsure if it was the right time to speak out for the reason they had paid her a visit, “We came to ask you… if you could help us with this…”

Time stopped. The pulse of transportation in her veins halted when they couldn’t believe what was truly left to display for her. Her lips met each other in confusion, but a sense of shock sent through her spine as her fingers brushed over the scrunched up piece of paper. The creases that were harshly folded seemed neat but the valleys between each quarter formed a river. River of her tears at the familiar handwriting. Her loud sobs filled the hurried air, quick to rest beside her was Remus who was ready to embrace her, softening her fall to the couch.

She thought the pain was over even if his belongings rested on her walls. She thought if she had a mutual understanding with the farewell. Who could’ve thought the sight of his writing stroke a heartstring?

“Of course I’ve seen him, I’ve seen him in front of me… I remember it like it was yesterday, cold and empty. In his presence, all I could call him was ‘My Lord’, words I wished I had never spoken.” The mumbles that fell of her lips were only audible if you say right next to her, the reason why Harry was glancing at the two men with confusion. He stroke them beams of signals, hoping they would get it and pass the message on. However, they never really bothered as they were so focused on her story.

“Did you… get the mark?” Y/N’s head looked up with slight reluctant, unsure if she should tell the story.

“I didn’t… he did. We had a fight and we stopped talking for a while, but, we always found each other after every petty thing,” She wore a faint smile that glinted with joy at the past memory, his face had been painted on the walls of her mind; she was afraid he would be nothing but a vivid dream. So she thinks about him often. “You-Know-Who didn’t mark me as he knew of my value. I had nothing, even though I came from a pureblood family,”

Harry met her gaze, “I had no one. When Regulus left, I had no one. I was alone,” The corners of her lips twitched at the tug of her heart. “He was so young when he left,” Her eyes fazed to the piece of paper between the student’s fingers. “He- he told me of his plans… but now, it’s just hazy. I don’t remember anything,”

Disappointment engulfed her heart as their eyes lit up with hope, glinted with content if they were able to get their next goal, diminished into pouts. “I’m sorry, I was of no help.”

Harry’s eyes softened onto her fingers which would not stop but caress itself, her anxiety was exuding and prominent, “Thank you, for sharing your side of the story,” Remus grinned, hoping it wasn’t seemed force, it would be the last thing he would want her to assume. His fingers clasped her shoulder, reassuring her. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to owl me.”

Although she had lost, she had gone through the harsh levels of grief, denial and the depression that cowered over her- leaving her numb and empty; her vessel dumped with bouncing emotions, she had no one to talk about it to. No one. But now, she did. If she lingered the emptiness and the anger she held against Sirius- she would have to live with it. She wanted it no more. Y/N deserved happiness.

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter #angst #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #hp imagines #hp oneshot #hp oneshots #harry potter x reader

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Courage

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Characters: Tsunayoshi Sawada, Kyoko Sasagawa

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for Day 3 of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! RarePair Week, for the Prompt “Hilarious or Shocking Reveals”!

Tsunayoshi Sawada had shed tears many times in his young (and unfortunately harrowing) life. He honestly never dreamed he would be blinking away tears while staring admiringly at the rolled-up diploma in his hands. His quivering fingers bent the thin paper when they curled tightly around it. He sunk his front teeth into his bottom lip, but his mind was numb to the dull pain of the action. With a sudden squeal of delight, he crushed the paper in his fist and threw his hands in the air.

“I did it! I graduated high school!” he crowed triumphantly. He puffed out his chest and put his curled fists on his hips to close his eyes and inhale haughtily. “I am not No-Good Tsuna anymore!”

“Yes, you are.” Tsunayoshi deflated like a popped balloon to cast a sordid glare at his home tutor. Reborn had grown significantly in the last several years since the Arcoboleno curse had dissipated, now standing at Tsunayoshi’s waist. The man trapped in a child’s body still dressed way too sharp for his apparent age, donning a neat, pressed suit and his magic chameleon disguised as a hat. He sipped matter-of-factly at his coffee and smirked teasingly at Tsuna. “That paper in your hand doesn’t change the fact that you still have a long way to go- and it was my teachings that earned you that diploma, anyway.”

“Ahhh, Reborn, you’re just as ruthless as ever,” Tsunayoshi grumped and pouted at the diploma. I don’t care what Reborn says! This is an accomplishment, and I’m gonna treat it like one!

“Tsuna, Tsuna!” Takeshi called as he came trotting up, beaming as always, with his father watching with a pleased smile from a distance. “My old man says he’ll treat us to sushi tonight. Everyone is invited!”

“Awesome!”

“I want sushi! I want sushi!” Lambo sprang out from the bushes where he had been presumably playing in the dirt looking for worms, as evidenced by the smears of soil he left on Tsuna’s uniform pants as he pawed at them. Tsunayoshi recoiled with a whine, looking dejectedly at the streaks of brown disfiguring his pants. Lambo skipped over to Takeshi and began running circles around him, bleating about sushi. The afroed boy had undergone a similar growth spurt, only slightly shorter than Reborn, but he had not acquired much in the way of maturity. Takeshi laughed good-naturedly and patted Lambo on the head affectionately. Nothing ever dampens Yamamoto’s spirits, Tsunayoshi thought warmly.

“Hey, little brat, you’re so loud,” Hayato griped as he strolled up with his hands in his pockets, and his diploma tucked in a back one. Scowling, he pushed on the back of Lambo’s head with the sole of his shoe. Though it couldn’t have hurt much, Lambo still took great offense. The little boy plopped down on his behind and began to bawl, screaming about how mean Hayato was to him. “Shut up, you baby! I didn’t hurt you!”

“Gokudera! Stop tormenting my dear sweet Lambo!” Tsunayoshi narrowed his eyes at the familiar but very out-of-place voice. Haru came running into the schoolyard to scoop Lambo up and press him into her bosom. Lambo cooed and snuggled into her breasts, clearly with lascivious intent, but Haru nuzzled his fuzzy head endearingly.

“What are you even doing here?!” the bomb expert griped. She shot him a seditious pout and a stony glare.

“I came to see Tsuna graduate, of course! Our school just finished, so I rushed over here. And what do I find? Gokudera is as much a villain as always!”

“Oh, can it, stalker!”

“I am not a stalker! I am a lady in love!”

Tsunayoshi abandoned the duo to their quibbling and pushed himself onto his tip-toes, head craned back to scan the many craniums of the students mingling in the courtyard. He did not find who he was looking for, but close enough. He could hear Ryohei screaming about the usual nonsense from a mile away. Wherever Ryohei is, Kyoko must be! he thought and pushed into the crowd.

Tsunayoshi was still small compared to his peers, so squeezing through the many chattering students was a chore. He followed Ryohei’s crowing and howling laughter towards the center of the mass of people. With a grunt, he pushed through two very stocky football players before stumbling out into a circle of green grass. Tsking, he smoothed out the creases in his shirt and pants and fixed his fluffy bangs, then inhaled deeply and straightened his back. He fingered the box-shaped lump in his front pocket nervously, eyeing the beautiful young girl chatting amiably with her overzealous boxer brother.

All right, Tsuna! It’s now or never!

“Kill him! Kill the Vongola Tenth!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Tsunayoshi screeched in anger and tore at his orangey-caramel hair in frustration. As machine-gun fire ripped across the yard, the new graduates erupted into confused screams and scattered like marbles. Thankfully, whoever was attacking only meant to entice the Vongola family into retaliating, so the fire harmlessly rained down into the grass and concrete. Ryohei shoved Kyoko behind him and threw up his fists, while Tsunayoshi begrudgingly trotted over to stand beside him.

“What cowards! Show your faces and fight like a man!” Ryohei yowled and shook his bandage-wrapped fists.

“Can they not?” Tsunayoshi replied with a groan. “Can they just go home?” The yard had thinned in a matter of seconds; all the crowd had spilled out into the streets and run for cover, leaving just the mafia family behind. Takeshi had drawn his katana and Hayato his bombs. Kyoya (who had been lounging around the school though he had graduated before them) was standing across the yard with his tonfa, frowning. Chrome, brandishing her trident, scampered up with Haru clinging to the hem of her shirt. Lambo was sitting in a puddle of his tears, and Reborn was nonchalantly sipping the last dregs of his coffee.

“Reborn! Do you have any idea who these thugs are?” The Vongola Tenth asked his tutor. Reborn pretended not to hear him. “You little-! Gaaaaaah, let’s just get this over with,” Tsunayoshi huffed and activated his Dying Will Flame, alighting his forehead with the orange glow and materializing his gloves on his hands. “Come out!”

“Yeah, so I can blow you all to Hell!” Hayato sneered. Dozens of armed men in black suits appeared on the rooftops, with a man in a mink overcoat at their head.

“My name is- Hey, what the fu-?” Tsunayoshi didn’t give the mafia leader a chance to introduce himself, instead opting to blast his way up to the roof and drop-kick him in the face. As their leader slid across the tiled roof with an imprint of Tsunayoshi’s shoe across his forehead, the underlings could only gawk at Tsunayoshi’s malice and prowess. Tsunayoshi, his expression blank, flexed his fingers.

“One day. Can’t I have one day without some goons crashing in and threatening my life and the lives of my friends? Seriously, did it have to be graduation day?” Tsunayoshi griped as he advanced on the man, who was now crawling away on his hands and knees blubbering. The men around Tsunayoshi howled angrily and trained their weapons on him, but before any of them could fire a single shot, his Guardians jumped into the fray. Within seconds, the attackers’ formation crumbled into chaos. Tsunayoshi ignored the mania to stride over to the leader.

“Have mercy!” the leader pleaded as he pressed back against the roof’s wall, shaking like a leaf and staring fearfully at Tsunayoshi. Using Leon in the form of a mini-helicopter, Reborn perched himself atop the fence and tutted at the poor excuse of a man.

“How shameful. Did you really think you could take on the Vongola Tenth with such a small force and such little resolve? This is an insult.”

Tsunayoshi smothered his Dying Will flame and pouted up at his tutor.

“Rebornnnnn, please don’t tell me this was some kind of training exercise or scheme…”

“Of course not. Even I am kind enough to allow you to enjoy your graduation day.”

“Y-you asshole! How dare you patronize me!” the mafia boss screamed and lunged at Tsunayoshi. A knife glinted in the sunlight, shooting towards Tsunayoshi’s throat, but his hyper-intuition made dodging it an easy task. The young Vongola Tenth side-stepped the attack, leaving the manic man stumbling across the roof. Takeshi dispatched him with a neck-chop to his pressure point, and he crumpled like a doll.

“That was no fun. I wanted a challenge,” the swordsman whined and sheathed his katana.

“I would rather not have to deal with stuff like this at all! One day! Just one! That’s all I want!” Tsunayoshi argued. Takeshi just laughed animatedly, like he always did, squinting his eyes happily. When he stopped, he glanced down at the ground with a confused grunt.

“Oh? Tsuna, what’s that?”

Tsunayoshi knew exactly was Takeshi was referring to and released a high-pitched screech, but before he could retrieve the precious object, Lambo scampered over and swiped it.

“No! Lambo! Give it back!” he wailed and chased the afroed, horned child across the roof. Lambo screamed elatedly, pleased with the chase, and opened the box as he ran in circles with Tsunayoshi in hot pursuit.

“A ring! It’s a ring!” Everyone froze, including the girls, who had just mounted the steps.

“Ahhhhhh! Tsuna is finally going to make Haru his mafia wife!” Haru trilled and clasped her hands beside her cheek. Clenching his teeth, Tsunayoshi shot her an incredulous look before lunging for Lambo, who had stopped running in his bewilderment of everyone’s reactions. He yelped as Tsunayoshi snatched the ring box and hid it behind his back.

“Lambo’s lying! It’s not a ring!”

“Uh, yeah it is, Sawada,” Kyoya blinked disinterestedly. Tsunayoshi growled at him, infuriated that he was no help to his cause; it was just par for the course, because since when did Kyoya care about anything but his naps and the middle school?

“Who’s it for? Who’s it for, Tsuna?” Ryohei grinned and bolted over to shake him. Tsunayoshi released startled gasps as his brain rattled in his skull along with all his other bones under the boxer’s relentless jarring.

“Gah! Ah! For the love of-! Kyoko! It’s for Kyoko!” he choked out. Ryohei ceased shaking him to gawk stupidly at him. Tsunayoshi went pink from the base of his neck to the top of his forehead. He shouldered away from his Sun Guardian, fidgeting with the box incessantly. Kyoko gawked wide-eyed at him from across the roof, mouth agape. Ugh! I had wanted to do this in private, but since when does anything in my life go as planned? he lamented. He cleared his throat before striding over to the girl, trying to seem dignified. It was a meaningless effort, because his knees buckled as soon as he reached her. “K-kyoko,” he stammered, then swallowed thickly, hating how quivery his voice was. He tried again, opening the box as he did so to reveal a silver band with a tiny pink opal in the center.

“K-Kyoko, this isn’t how I wanted this to go, but…. I’ve loved you for a long time. You were the motivation to get me through the hardest parts of my life. This is a promise ring,” he explained with a glance down at the jewelry. “M-my life is really dangerous now, with the mafia and all, and because of that, I’ve put your life in danger far too many times… B-but, with this ring, I promise to protect you, always, a-a-and love you w-with everything I h-h-have…” His voice grew high-pitched and trembly at the end, making his blush redden to a tomato color. With shaking lips and shaking hands, he extended the ring to her. “P-please be my girlfriend, Kyoko!”

“Nice delivery,” Hayato muttered sarcastically, which made him hunch his shoulders up to his ears. He heard Hayato yelp as his sister slapped him upside the head. Still, he kept his eyes firmly locked on Kyoko’s face, watching as she studied the ring curiously. His breath halted as she reached out with slim fingers to pull the ring from the box and admire it in the sunlight. The little pink opal sparkled beautifully, but not nearly as wonderfully as her eyes, Tsunayoshi thought. His heart somersaulted in his ribcage as she smiled broadly and slipped the ring onto her right ring finger.

“I accept.”

“Yes!” Tsunayoshi howled and threw his hands in the air triumphantly. “Kyoko said she’ll go out with me! This is the best day of my life!”

“Sawada!” Tsunayoshi cringed and hid behind Kyoko as Ryohei barked his name. He hunched down to peer above Kyoko’s tiny shoulder, watching fearfully as her elder brother stomped across the roof to cross his arms and glowered down at him.

“R-ryohei, I can explain…”

“No. I’ve heard enough,” he grunted with a stern expression. Tsunayoshi whined and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for one of the boxer’s devastating punches. Instead, he felt a hand ruffling his fluffy hair. He cracked an eye open to see Ryohei grinning and even crying a little. “This is so exciting! I know you will take care of my sweet little sister.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, big brother. You’re the one who needs taking care of, getting beat up all the time!”

“Heyyy, Kyoko, that was so mean…”

“So are Tsuna and Kyoko getting married?” Lambo asked Chrome while sucking on his index finger.

“No, no, they are just dating,” the illusionist responded. “I think…”

“Hey! This is just one more thing to celebrate over sushi!” Takeshi laughed good-naturedly.

“I’m leaving,” Kyoya snorted and whirled on his heel to begin striding for the stairs. He bristled when Takeshi clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him around.

“Come on, Hibari, don’t be such a stick in the mud! Surely you like sushi? My father makes the best.” Kyoya glowered before clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

“Do you have tuna sashimi?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. But I’m going for the sashimi, not because we’re friends.”

“Sure, sure.”

Tsunayoshi watched fondly as his friends rejoiced on the rooftop, smiling alighting their faces like beacons as always. As Ryohei scampered over to throw his arms around a laughing Takeshi’s shoulders, Kyoko looked at him with a sweet smile, making Tsunayoshi’s heart stop in his chest.

“You’ll keep your promise, won’t you, Tsuna?” He blinked, then smiled lovingly at the girl he had adored for the longest time.

“Of course, Kyoko. I’ll protect you with my life. I swear it.” His eyes snapped wide open when she leaned in to press a small kiss to his cheek, leaving bright pink heat in her wake.

“Good- but don’t be in a hurry to throw your life away. I’d miss you so much, Tsuna.” Smiling charmingly, she skipped over to Haru and Chrome, wherein they cooed over the pretty pink-gemmed ring. Tsunayoshi slowly raised a hand to his cheek, a smile slowly spreading over his face.

“I’m proud of you, Tsuna,” Reborn remarked and patted the back of his thigh. “I never thought you’d do it, really.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Reborn. You gave me courage.”

“No,” the mafioso retorted with a sly smirk. “You always had the courage. I just taught you how to find it.” Tsunayoshi nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. You sure did, Reborn.”

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @khrrarepairweek, @deliathedork

#khrrarepairweek2020 #khrrarepairweek #tsunakyoko #tsunayoshi x kyoko #tsuna x kyoko #kyoko x tsuna #kyoko x tsunayoshi #tsunayoshi sawada #sawada tsunayoshi #kyoko sasagawa #sasagawa kyoko #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #katekyoshi hitman reborn #hitman reborn #khr fanfiction #khr fanfic

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Whist - Chapter One

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

Word Count; 6.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: not a finnick odair x reader. it’s a ‘what if’ series

–

“Good morning.” Finnick’s voice is rough, tired.

You pause the pencil right where it is, looking over to him. He’s got his eyes half-open, squinting at you through the sun rays that are running through the window. For a moment, he lifts himself to see what you’re doing, and then he rests back against the pillow, back to the window.

“Good morning.” you place the pencil down temporarily, running your hand over his forehead, “Still feeling unwell?”

“Little feverish.” he admits, “Nothing I can’t handle. The Capitol will have all the medicine I need, anyway.”

“If you say so.” you give him a sweet smile, turning back to the black book.

You read over the words, trying to recollect your thoughts. After reading over the sentence a third time, it picks up in your mind. You finish it, write the date down, and then close the book for good. You’ll pick it back up when you get back from the Capitol.

“Do you know the time?” Finnick asks.

You turn to the nightstand, sliding the book--with the pencil neatly tucked between the pages--and check the time, “Little past seven. The whole house is awake already.”

“Little past seven?” he repeats, “Maybe I should stay home.”

“It’s likely the medicine that made you sleep in so late, honey.” you say sweetly, slipping out of the bed, “Either way, you have to be there for the reaping. Better not drag your feet.”

“Right.” he agrees, “Start up the shower?”

“Of course.” you agree, heading into the bathroom. You lean into the shower, turn on the faucet to warm, and then leave.

“I’m going to help Alyssum. It’s her first year and all.” you go back over to Finnick, crawling onto the bed long enough to kiss him, “Gotta reassure her and everything.”

“The first is always the worst.” he says.

“Yes, it is.” you agree, “I’ll be back up, holler if you need something.”

“Will do.” he sighs, and right when you make it to the bedroom door, he calls your name. You turn to look at him, seeing a smile on his face, “I love you.”

You smile back, “I love you too, Finn.”

You head out of the room after that, closing the door but not entirely. There’s a small gap between the frame and the door itself. Just in case he does yell, you’ll be able to hear him from the entire house.

Knocking on Alyssum’s door, you wait patiently for her to answer. She doesn’t say anything, opting for swinging the door wide open for you to see her instead. Her eyes are wide, and she’s got two dresses hanging from her arm.

“I don’t know which to choose.”

She holds them up for you to see. The dress on the left is baby pink, with white accents. There’s a ribbon that runs along the middle, and in the back it can be used to tie it up. Like an apron. The dress is long-sleeved, which might be awful in this weather, but even Finnick had managed to catch a cold.

You have a feeling that it might be because of all the time he’s been spending out on the water lately with Reed, Mox and Caspian. You warned all of them to take a coat, just in case they were to fall into the water and get frozen. But none of them listened, and now your husband is at the end of a nasty bug.

The other possibility is that he caught it while he was in the square--the black market of District Four. Again, lately he’s been out there with the boys doing god knows what. But you heard from Mags that people have been catching colds, and with how jam-packed the square is constantly, he probably got it there.

You’re just glad that Mox and Reed seem to be in good health.

The pink dress also has a nice trim along the bottom. When you reach out to run the fabric between your fingers, it’s soft. Might even be easily damaged. Things will easily stick to it, but at least it’ll be warm. You can already picture the possibilities of accessories that she could pair with this.

As for the second dress, it’s strangely familiar. You can’t place your finger on it though, even while you look over the material. It’s a little more stiff, a slight gold color. Black trim and ribbon, and it’s not long-sleeved. It’s got the arms of a regular t-shirt.

“What’s the weather like today?” you ask her.

“Hot.” she says, “It’ll start warming up around the time we leave.”

“Which is what? Eleven? Twelve?”

She nods.

“Then I’d say to go with the gold dress.” you pick it up from her fingers and hold it against her body, “Make sure you choose something black that will go with it.”

“If I find a black ribbon, will you tie it in my hair?” she asks hopefully.

“I’ll do your hair entirely.” you promise, “All Capitol fancy.”

Alyssum has a smile spread over her face, “Okay.”

She turns back into her room, shutting the door. Turns out she’s not as nervous as you thought.

As you go down the steps, you come to realize that she doesn’t really have a reason to be afraid. She’s surrounded by older people who have either been inside of the games or trained relentlessly in case they would be. And when Alyssum finally turned ten two years ago, all of you jumped on her back at once.

Of course, she’s been being fed little things since she was seven. You started out with the easy things, like how to tie the ‘fun’ knots, and how to start a fire. And ever since, you had a theme with the year. When she turned eight, if she wasn’t in school, she was on a boat with you and Finnick learning to fish or she was tying knots. She was already a strong swimmer, so there wasn’t much to worry about with that.

When she turned nine, you took it upon yourself to teach her how to use a knife. Places to hide one, how to get it out easily. You bought her a pocket knife from the square for her to have. Even if she wouldn’t be allowed to have it at school, it was good practice. She carries it with her everywhere now.

That same year, you and Finnick had taught her how to use a spear, which she didn’t like very much. So then, you two switched to the swords. And you’re talking about the illegal ones also from the square. However, you weren’t buying them, you were only borrowing them from some old gal that you’ve known for a while now.

On top of the sword, someone offered up a bow in trade for teaching his daughter how to do it in a way that would make her want to learn how. Then someone else pitched in a dummy and a couple of target stands. That summer was by far the craziest.

Then she turned ten, and you started to teach her other things. You wanted to ease her into the idea of having to kill someone. So, instead you taught her the anatomy of the body. You showed off exactly where the major arteries were and told her that if she were to ever get hurt there, she would have to act quick.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d likely die unless she knew what she was doing with medical stuff. So, you brought her to the local clinic that year and convinced some of the staff to allow her to watch how it was done. In return, you funded some medical supplies.

You thought it would be better if she learned it straight from a professional. Especially with practices like District Four’s. They’ve all been handed down from generation to generation. All the shortcuts to getting better, the medicines to avoid--namely morphling because of how addictive it is--and what to and not to do.

She learned how to do stitches, and by the time the school started up again in the fall, she answered all your questions flawlessly. When you asked her how to treat stab wounds, the words would come from her mouth before she realized it. At first, she thought it was embarrassing, until everyone around her was so excited.

Reed had thought you were the prodigy, with how you learned and never complained. But with Alyssum, she was always so eager to learn more. And the way she retained information too was a big deal. No matter the situation, if you ask her a question about a past lesson, she’ll know it.

When she turned eleven last year, that’s when you started to get more serious. More survival skills that would help her in the long run. What berries looked like, what leaves looked like. What food would be useful inside of the arena, the three rule especially.

And with her turning twelve this year, you finally decided that she couldn’t be babied any longer. She could like all the little kid stuff, but she’s eligible for the games. The chances of her getting picked on her first year are so slim that you won’t even consider the possibility. But you took the precaution of teaching her how to fight anyway.

Most of the time it was plastic swords and knives. You’d set up a mock hunger games with you, Finnick, Reed, Mox, Caspian and his family, and her just a little outside the gates of victor’s village. In the middle would lay everything that she would need. And you focused on the if factor. If she ran to the middle rather than away, she would have to act quick.

None of you went easy on her. You all might have tens of years of age on her. It’s clearly unfair with the first thought. Then the second rolls in. That the career kids have been taught this stuff since they were young. This is their first nature. They’re going to think like the predators. They’re going to be bigger than her, smarter than her, and more skilled than her.

And hell, they wouldn’t give a damn if she was twelve or seventeen. If they were to see her face, they would go straight for the kill. Unless she made allies.

At first, Alyssum wasn’t any good at the fighting, but she gradually got better. She’s fairly shorter than all of you, so the first place she goes when she swings is the legs. It’s not a bad move.

You’re just happy that after everything that has happened, she’s realized that running to the middle is always the biggest gamble. Reed and Mox are sure to enforce that every year when they’re in front of the television set. They point out every little mistake of the tributes that run to the middle.

So now, she roots for the people that run away and get frustrated with those who head in.

Anyway, as you were saying, she has no reason to be afraid. She’s been growing up with it for a while now. The questions, the training, the lessons, the mock hunger games. She’s no professional, and she’s still got a lot to learn, but she’s getting there.

It’s not like she has much to worry about this year. Her name is going to be in there only once. As the years climb--you’ll start to worry. Until then, she knows as much as you can afford to teach her.

She’s even had practice with real weapons. Ones that can kill.

“How’s Alyssum doing?” Mox asks, he’s waiting at the bottom of the staircase, nibbling on his fingers. You reach over, pulling them from his mouth.

“Getting dressed. You should too. The hosts might talk about us since Alyssum is now eligible for the games.”

In the kitchen is Reed, hovering over a plate of pancakes. On the stove sits a pot, and when you take a peek, you’re able to see that it’s soup for Finnick.

“Are we still quarantining Finnick?” Reed asks.

“He’s feeling better today, so I think he can come down.” you reach over for the coffee, thanking Reed when he passes over the cream, “But he might stay home this year. I think he’s still sore.”

“He nearly died, so it makes sense.” Reed says, “Looked like you when you had typhoid.”

You pause for a moment, raising your head as you think.

You suppose that’s right. He was pale, it was hard for him to move but he made a point to. He didn’t like it when you fussed over him and consistently insisted that you spent your day doing something else rather than showing fantastic bedside manner. To no avail, though. You don’t have much to do these days besides show Alyssum how things are done.

“Strange.” you tell Reed, raising the coffee to your lips. The cream has cooled it considerably, and you’re able to drink the entire thing without burning your tongue.

You grab another mug of it for Finnick, since he’s going to need all the energy he can get with how he is. The medicine that the clinic had prescribed him has made him all sorts of tired. Which he can’t really afford to be today, or any other reaping day. It would be awful for the cameras to zoom in on him and make fun of him the same way they do Haymitch.

Mox has joined the kitchen, and you pass him on your way out. You go up the stairs and straight to the bedroom. You can hear the occasional large splatter of water as Finnick rinses his hair. You knock on the door once or twice, slipping inside.

“Brought coffee.” you tell him.

The sliding door opens and he holds his hands out for the mug. You pass it over, watching as he does the exact same thing that you did. And when he’s done, he gives it right back with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Want more?” you ask.

“I’ll get more when I go downstairs.”

“Alright.” you grab a few things out of the bathroom drawers. A brush, some hair ties, a curling iron, hairspray.

All while you’re grabbing these things, you can’t help but to feel a little guilty. The reaping is no time to look pretty. With a brand new dress and nicely done hair, it’ll make it look like you’re glorifying the games.

But everyone has to know that you’d never do such a thing. You haven’t taken the games lightly ever. You take your job seriously, and you showed them when you sacrificed thousands of dollars just to get medication inside of the arena for Annie. Without a single clue of knowing whether or not it would actually work.

Alyssum gets nice dresses because she doesn’t have to take hand-me-downs anymore. They’re not expensive in any way, and they’re not imported from the Capitol either. None of your clothing is. Hell, you’re supporting the local businesses, the ones that struggle without you going in to buy a new pair of socks or shoes or underwear for your family.

And you might as well spoil Alyssum, because she’ll never have to live through what you older kids had to. She’ll never have to worry about selling the living room furniture, pawning off family jewels and getting rid of her toys just to make that month’s rent.

“When are you getting ready?” Finnick asks, shutting off the shower.

“After I do Alyssum’s hair.” you tell him, “How are you feeling?”

“A little better, but still sick.”

“We could always tell the peacekeepers that you’re sick, since you are.”

Finnick frowns a bit, drying off his body with a towel, “Then that would seal my fate on not going.”

“I want you to heal.” you press a hand to his chest, “And you can’t do that if you’re running around with me in the Capitol.”

“I’ll manage. I don’t want to miss Alyssum's first reaping anyway.”

“Whatever you say.” you give him a smile, “Your coffee mug is on the counter. When you go downstairs, make sure to tell Mox everything is fine. Don’t go to Mags or Annie’s without me.”

“Sure.” he says, and pulls you in for a quick kiss.

Once you pull away, you leave the bathroom, then the bedroom. Down the hall and straight to Alyssum’s bedroom. You hardly knock before opening the door, revealing Alyssum to be standing in front of a mirror. She’s already got her black shoes on.

“Can you tie the back ribbon?” she asks.

You set everything down on the bed, tying the ribbon, and then getting her seated in front of the mirror. You pull half of her hair up loosely, putting the hair tie in. Then, you neatly tie the ribbon around the bands. After, you begin to curl her hair at the ends.

“Ask me questions.” Alyssum insists.

You give a smile, “What are the ways to clean water?”

“Boiling, iodine or a few drops of chlorine, but not enough to get you sick.” Alyssum says.

“Why do we clean water?”

“To get rid of the bacteria, otherwise we can end up with a ton of viruses--like typhoid, cholera, salmonella and a couple of others. They become more deadly the longer they’re untreated.”

“How can we start a fire?”

“Flint and a rock, typically.” she thinks for a moment, “A lighter, matches if it’s available. Sticks. Or glass and the sun, but that takes a while.”

“Name the big arteries.” you let a curl fall, shaking the hairspray and then spraying it on.

“The one in your neck, on your thighs and the arms.” she says.

“If someone pins you down, how do you get free?”

“Buck your hips and then flip on top of the person.” she says.

“What’s the one berry you don’t want to ever eat inside of the arena?”

This one takes her a moment, “...nightlock?”

“Yes.” you smile at her through the mirror, “What does it look like?”

“They appear black, but once squished they’re red.”

“Alright, why don’t we run to the cornucopia?”

“Easy, because the careers go there, and since I’m small, I won’t make it. So, I go when they’re not there instead.”

You’re proud of her for this. To know that she should wait until the careers have gone out and started their hunting. They go out at night, looking for easy fires to catch. Kill the easy tributes. Depending on how far they’ve gone away from the cornucopia, they’ll either head back or stay in the woods for a night. Then they’ll pick up where they left off, and end up right back at the cornucopia by the end of the night.

“All done.” you tell her.

She turns her head in the mirror, looking at what you’ve done for her. She springs to her feet and takes you in for a long hug. When she lets go, you gather your things to head back to the bedroom so you can get ready yourself.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” you tell her, “Go study with Finnick some, okay?”

She beams, and follows you out the door. She takes a turn for the stairs and you head to your bedroom. You shut the door behind you, drop everything off in the bathroom, then pick out a simple outfit. Once it’s all neatly laid out, you take your shower, cleaning your hair.

You dry it, carefully dry as much as you can, and then you leave the rest to air-dry. You pull on the simple flowing tank top with the stitched back. Then the black jeans and a pair of nice tennis shoes. Showing up to the reaping in casual clothing stopped being a heinous act a while ago.

Finally, you go downstairs. Alyssum is eating breakfast, Finnick is enjoying a second or maybe a third cup of coffee, asking Alyssum questions. Every now and then, the other two will pitch in. Once Finnick realizes you’re there, the two of you pack up some breakfast for Mags and head out the door.

“She’s getting better.” Finnick says, “I had her show me a few knots. She’s got quick fingers.”

“I hope so.” you laugh, he joins in.

You and Finnick enter the house after a couple of knocks so Mags can know that you’re there. She’s already waiting in her living room, a book in her hand. You and him wait patiently in the doorway. She closes the book, and then gives you both a welcoming smile.

Finnick helps her to the table while you lay out Mags’ food. She sits, eats in silence while she reads. Finnick finishes his coffee, you scrunch your hair with your hand to try and give it some character.

Before you know it, you and Finnick are taking Mags back to your house, and then heading towards Annie’s. Just as you reach the door, Annie’s mom sticks her head out and shakes her head.

“Annie’s got the flu, the peacekeepers already know. Thank you, though.” she gave a kind smile and then shut the door in your face.

Right back to the house, it gave you extra time to do something to your hair and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Curled your hair like you did to Alyssum’s, put on a little makeup, and right back down the stairs. After breakfast, you played a memory game with Alyssum, Reed and Mox.

Then time was up, with only thirty minutes to get to the stage. All of you headed out as one big bunch. With Finnick holding your right hand and Alyssum holding onto the left. Ahead of you guys were the other victors of four--the ones that hardly glance at you all.

Since it’s Alyssum’s first year, it took a little longer to get her signed in, but right after you went to your regular spot behind the cover near the staircase up to the stage. Mags went up without you guys, but you hung back to talk to your family, as usual.

It’s the normal nonsensical stuff that wasn’t able to be fit on the walk here. Casual banter between all of you. The peacekeeper at the top of the staircase is kind enough to inform you guys when there’s ten minutes left. Time to wrap it up.

“Okay, Aly.” you hold out your arms, “How are you feeling?”

She throws herself into your arms, squeezing tightly, “Little nervous, but it’s natural, right?”

“Yes it is, and it’s okay to be nervous.” you kiss the top of her head.

Mox, Reed and Finnick move in to join the hug. You all hold tight for a moment, and then pull away.

“I’ll make sure to stand so you can see me.” Alyssum promises.

“Sounds good to me.” you give her one last smile, “Good luck.”

Reed takes her hand when she turns around, waving goodbye. You and Finnick head up the cracked stone steps, nodding to the peacekeeper when you pass him. The two of you make your way over to where the victors, mayor and Elysia sits. You sit between Finnick and Elysia.

“Alyssum’s first year.” Elysia whispers.

“Yes it is, she’s grown so much.” you tilt your head a little.

Alyssum has found a friend, and the two of them are talking about Aly’s hair for a moment. Then, they bid your bothers goodbye, heading to the twelve year old section, right up from. They slide in right in place, and just as she promised, you have a clear look at them.

Aly and her friend hold hands, and the two of them chat while the rest of the sections. Along the outside stands parents and bystanders alike. Your brothers are where they always are, behind the boys section and standing out like sore thumbs. They’re dressed better than most of the people around them.

Right as the last few people file in, Caspian comes up beside Reed, and the two of them start talking too.

The mayor takes a deep breath, and then gets up. She readjusts her blazer as she heads to the microphone. You look over to the camera, noticing how it’s on you guys right now. There’s a long moment of eye contact before the camera is the first to break it, focusing on the mayor.

“Happy hunger games.” her voice echoes, and by her tone, you can tell she either really hates her job, or she’s tired of having to introduce the games every year.

She launches into the speech on the dark days, and to reinforce it, she shows a video made by the Capitol, narrated by Snow. It’s all required, she doesn’t have much of a choice. When the video is over, she hands it over to Elysia.

This is when a sick feeling washes over you. You fan your face with your hand, thinking that the dizziness will fade, but it only grows. The nausea is hardly bearable.

“I think I might be sick.” you admit, and Finnick apologizes. He then holds out a water bottle that he had brought just in case any of you needed it. You take a couple gulps of it, glad that it eases some of the knots in your stomach.

“Happy hunger games.” Elysia says, her voice isn’t as excited this year. You can’t even see the look on her face, but you can only guess that she looks tired too, “And may the odds be ever in your favor. As usual, ladies first.”

She moves over to the girls bowl, picking out a random slip of paper. You can see Alyssum has her eyes glued to it, eyebrows drawn together. Elysia moves back over to the mic and carefully removes the black tape to reveal the name.

She inhales, like she’s going to say the name. Then, she deflates, the mic catches the wind. Elysia seems to go rigid after that, eyes glued to the paper slip between her fingers. You squint, trying to catch the name, but it’s too far away.

Ten seconds pass, then twenty. The head peacekeeper clears his throat, letting her know to get a move on. It’s enough to snap her of her daze, but when she speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.

“The girl’s tribute this year is uh--” she pauses for a moment, taking in a deep breath, but lets out half of it again before she speaks, “--Alyssum Gallows.” her voice drops out during the last time.

The two cameras on either side of the stage turn in different directions. With one looking in the crowd for your dear baby sister, and the other landing straight on you and Finnick.

You jerk in your chair like you’re going to get up, but Finnick holds you back, clearly as stunned as you are.

The air is still.

Your eyes manage to find your brothers and their friend, standing there just as stunned as you are. Mox hasn’t started to cry yet, his eyes are wide and his mouth is open. While Reed looks like he’s paled several colors, as white as a corpse.

The dizziness comes back, bigger than ever.

‘No,’ you think, not being able to bring yourself to shake your head, ‘She’s twelve. Her name is in there once, she’s twelve.’

“Come on, honey.” Elysia’s voice is soft, like silk.

Alyssum can hardly pry her fingers from her friends. She stiffly moves into the aisle where the peacekeepers are, waiting to escort her to the stage.

‘Someone volunteer. Please, someone volunteer.’

She reaches the steps and she’s careful not to scuff her brand new black shoes. When she’s at the top, her eyes find yours, and it’s almost like a reflection. The amount of horror you feel is replicated on her face. Only, she’s got tears forming, and you can’t even bring yourself to move.

“Right here.” Elysia stops her in front of the bowl, going back to the microphone, “Any volunteers?” she urges.

You’re too old to volunteer. Disregarding the fact that you’re a victor yourself, you’re too old. If you were younger, you’d be jumping right now for her. You’d go back into the arena twenty times just so she could have a normal life here.

The silence is deafening and clear; there are no volunteers and she must carry on whether she likes it or not.

Alyssum glances over her shoulder again, and you’re able to see the tears running down her face.

“Now to the boys.” Elysia is defeated, and she heads over to the boys bowl. She doesn’t dally with this one either, pulling out the name and heading to the microphone.

She removes the tape, “Rigg Estridge.”

You find yourself selfishly wishing for an older boy. But watching the way the crowd moves, it’s another twelve year old.

You bury your face in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. This can’t be happening. You can’t be getting two twelve year olds. Their first year of the reaping, and one of them is your sister.

When you look again, a short redhead with curly hair is being moved down the aisle. Without a prompt, he heads up the steps and stops in front of the boys bowl.

Once again, Elysia asks if there’s any volunteers. There’s more silence, one look to Reed and Mox tells you that they wish they were fifteen years younger too. They desperately want to be in the same boat as Alyssum like you do.

With no volunteers, Elysia tells them to shake hands. Alyssum moves forward with a shaky palm. There’s shiny tear streaks on her cheeks, but her face is serious. The boy looks more shaken than she does.

After that, it’s over. And the tributes are being escorted off stage and into the justice building. There, they will wait for their friends and family to say their final goodbyes.

You stand from your chair, running your fingers through your hair as you try to get a grip on what just happened. Finnick wraps his arms around you tightly as a hug.

“I’m going to the Capitol.” He says.

“I expected no less.” You tell him, wrapping only one arm around him.

Elysia looks even worse than she did before, “(Y/n)—I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry—“

“You didn’t know.” You tell her, eyes fluttering for a moment.

The dizziness hasn’t subsided. In fact, the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. You look to where your brothers had been, but they’re long gone. Likely trying to get to Alyssun.

“We need to see her.” You tell Finnick, “I have to be together with them all one last time.”

You make him let go, heading down the same steps that the mayor had taken, disregarding everyone that tries to reach out to you. One peacekeeper tries to offer his condolences, but you slap his hand away and move right inside of the building.

The ones guarding the door move out of the way, and when you enter the room, your brothers are already there. With you as an addition to the room, their bodies turn, and you’re running the small distance to bring them so close to your body.

“Finnick is coming with.”

“Good.” Reed says, and then they let go.

You let them talk to her since you’ll be seeing her for the next week. This is their goodbye, not yours. Not just yet.

“You listen to (Y/n).” Reed tells her, “She knows what she’s doing, and she’s going to try her hardest to get you everything you need.”

She nods, it won’t be difficult for her.

The door opens a second time, and you look over to see that not only is it Finnick, but Mags is on his arm.

“You can win.” Reed says, his hands are on her shoulders, “You’re smart, you’ve been learning all of this information for years now. The only disadvantage you have is that you’re small, but even that has advantages.”

“Mags has a token for you.” Finnick says, your brothers move aside.

Mags pulls something out of her pocket, weighing it in her hand carefully before she holds it out for Alyssum to take it out of Mags’ palm. Alyssum reaches up with shaky fingers to carefully bring the jewelry out.

There’s a special gem attached to the necklace. The gem is expensive, and you recognize it almost immediately. It’s tanzanite. And just by the look of it--how polished it is--it’s new. And it costs more than her dress. Not only all of that, you recognize it for a whole separate reason.

Like how you had your mother’s ring for your games. She’s getting mom’s most expensive necklace. One that was given to her by grandma.

Reed and Mox seem to remember too, but Alyssum has no clue. She turns the necklace over in her hand gently.

“It was mom’s.” you let her know, “And grandma’s too.”

“Oh.” her voice is soft, and she wraps her fingers around it, looking at Mags, “Thank you.”

“She was planning on surprising you with it after the reaping.” Finnick says, and you all know what he was implying. A gift for after, when she hadn’t been reaped and survived her first round. Instead, she’ll be taking it as a token now.

The doors swing open again, and you watch as Alyssum is shown some sort of affection. A kiss on the forehead, a long hug. Until the four of you are huddling in for the last time. The peacekeepers are surprisingly patient with this long goodbye.

“I love you, Alyssum.” Reed tells her, and Mox agrees, “We’ll be cheering you on.”

Reed and Mox go to leave before you, Finnick or Mags budge from where you stand. You crouch down, trying to get to her height.

“On the train station, there will be cameras. The whole country is watching us right now, so you need to do me a big favor and not cry on that platform, okay?” you fix her hair, “You can cry as soon as the doors are shut, but you need to have a brave face until then.”

“But the reaping--”

“I know about the reaping, and that’s okay. No one reacted well when you were called, not even me. It’s okay to make mistakes, but we need to start not making them anymore.”

She nods, “Yeah.”

“I have to go, okay? I’ll be at the train waiting for you. Elysia will be with you, stick close. Don’t fight the peacekeepers, they’re on our side.”

You stand up, and Aly hugs Mags for the last time. After that, the three of you are heading out. The doors slam shut behind you, rattling the door frame. Outside stands your brothers who had been waiting patiently.

You take in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“We have to start heading to the station.” Reed says, squeezing you tightly, “We’ll see you there.”

“What about Mags?”

“I can walk her.” a peacekeeper volunteers, you know who it is.

“Thank you.” you place a hand on his arm.

There’s a car that’s already waiting for the two of you. In passing, you tell Elysia that she should probably keep quiet inside of the car when it comes to the two of them. Inside the train is when you’ll introduce and begin to get them used to the idea of it all. Other than that, they just need a moment of silence to collect their thoughts.

The car ride to the train consists of you biting your nails until you finally decide to stop, knowing that your stylists friends will be upset if they have nothing to work with.

Finnick holds your hand tightly.

“The Capitol is going to love all of this.” you tell him, “(Y/n)’s little sister. The Executioner’s twelve year old sister is going inside of the games.”

“They’re probably going to be comparing you two the entire time.”

“Yes, they probably are.” you agree, “And I can’t wait to see what Caesar Flickerman has to say about all of this.”

The car makes it to the train station, you and Finnick get out, go up the steps and then into the train. You don’t stand on the platform with the tributes, Elysia does. Then, they come inside after the final glance after the reaping.

You run your fingers through your hair, taking a seat by the door.

You need to focus on her training score right now. If she scores high, then she’ll be in the clear. It’s not often the first years get something so high. They’re expected to get something so low, anything below an eight. But with all that you’ve been teaching her, she should hit the eight mark.

And if she does something flashy inside of the private session, that will increase her score, just like how it increased yours.

It’s a while before the tributes have even shown up at the train station. By the sound of it, there’s a lot of people out there. You and Finnick don’t dare to peek your heads around the corner, though. You strictly stay inside, waiting and listening for Elysia to tell them to say their goodbyes.

Another ten minutes later, their car has finally shown up, you lean your head against the wall, closing your eyes. You can hear Alyssum’s shoes against the stone steps, and how they crunch when they come to a stop.

There’s sniffling coming from someone, but you don’t think it’s Aly, but the other boy--Rigg. He doesn’t know not to cry, you weren’t there to tell him. For now, you’ll let him give off his look.

Soon, they’re being brought inside. The doors shut, and you’re hugging a crying Alyssum, pulling her onto your lap as you rub her back. You let her get it all out, telling Finnick to go ahead and start with the boy, since he doesn’t look like he knows anything.

Finnick gives you a kiss on the forehead, and then leaves with the boy to take him into a different car. Elysia has already left to do whatever, you’re not too sure what that is exactly.

You try your best to comfort Alyssum, but you can’t help but to think that she’s not going to make it. You can’t tell her that, she has to realize that for herself. But there’s eighteen year old careers waiting for her in the Capitol. There’s the older kids from other districts too, but they’re not nearly as ruthless.

Careers are taught to think of their fellow tributes as animals, not people.

You scoop up Alyssum like a baby, carrying her to your mentor room. Along the way, peacekeepers open the doors for you. When you get inside, you lay Alyssum down on the bed, and then you slide in next to her, pulling her to your side as you run your fingers through her hair soothingly.

It’s not long before she falls asleep, exhausted.

#ilguna #whist #whist chapter one #lacuna au

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holdthosebees · 5 years

Text

La Belle Dame

Rating: T Pairing: John/Martin, pre-slashish. Background Melanie/Georgie. Summary: No powers, drag queen AU. In which John’s ex-girlfriend drags him to a charity show, and he has an awkward encounter with one of the queens.

A/N: A procrastination oneshot that I wrote while not working on any of my many, many WIPs. Shoutout to @jinxedlucky, who helped me workshop this idea and then told me not to work on it until I finish something else, and who was right. Also--Martin’s drag name, and the title, both come from the Keats poem La Belle Dame Sans Merci.

The drag queen on stage had glitter in her beard and the most impressive biceps John had ever seen. The red sequins on her skintight dress shimmered as she walked up and down the edge of the crowd, mic cord trailing behind her, as she reached out to regulars, all winks. Georgie tapped John’s shoulder; he had to lean in to hear her, her hair brushing against his ear.

“That’s Sasha’s friend,” she said. “Tim. The one I was telling you about.”

John nodded. He’d been struggling to keep track of all of people in Georgie’s new social circle, her girlfriend’s friends and their friends who were all supposed to be his friends by some sort of mathematical transference. The drag queen on stage tapped the mic, and grinned. Her lips were very red.

“Ladies, gentlemen, monsters, everyone else,” she said, pitching her voice low. “Welcome... to Eastbenders!”

There were a few half-hearted cheers.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that. Anyway, for the virgins in the audience, all our queens are local and all our proceeds will go to providing shelter and services to trans youth.” Another pause for cheers, more enthusiastic this time. “If you have any questions, ask comrade Sasha over there in the booth. Wave to the people, Sasha!”

John had met Sasha a few times over drinks. She seemed a very sensible person, unlike Georgie’s new girlfriend Melanie, who hated him on sight. He resolved to go and find her after the event, and maybe donate a bit. That was why he was here, after all; the charity.

“And the rest of you old slags, go say hello anyway. I promise you she’s very friendly.” The queen punctuated her sentence with a slow roll of her hips and a leer. John scowled down at his ginger ale, and ignored Georgie’s knowing look. She wasn’t going to tell him to lighten up, because she knew that he’d just roll his eyes in response, and she didn’t need to, because he knews she was thinking it.

It was just that this, the lewd jokes for the sake of lewd jokes, the self-conscious decadence, it was very much not John’s scene. He didn’t have anything against it, exactly; he just found it childish, and strange, and there was something profoundly alienating about it besides. If it were up to him he’d be at home, reading, or putting a few more hours in on the project he was supposed to have in by Monday, somehow, although Elias clearly didn’t understand how long database work actually took.

But it was for charity, Georgie had said, and it had been ages since he’d been out and around, and he wasn’t going to meet anyone new if he just sat around moping. To which he had responded that he didn't feel the need to meet anyone new, and she’d looked at him with her eyes so knowingly sad, tinged with an insufferable pity. And so here he was, crammed into an uncomfortable booth in a dim bar, watching a man in a dress with a wig as tall as his head and heels you could punch through metal sheeting with croon into a cheap microphone.

“I am your host for the evening, Kinky Spice--” someone in the back booed. The queen sighed exaggeratedly. “Fine, you caught me. I’m your host, Kim Morningwoodburn--” More booing, and scattered laughter. “Tough crowd! I’ll deal with you later, you naughty audience members you. I am, cross my heart, your host, Diana Explosion, and I’m here to ask you to welcome in our first performer, the bizarre, the incomparable Honey Wilde!”

The lights dimmed, and turned blue. The crowd applauded as flog began to slip in from the corner of the stage, creeping across the floor. The music started, something slow and electronic. John was intrigued despite himself.

Honey Wilde slunk slowly out of the shadows. Her shoulders were hunched, and she moved with a slow lurch. Her straight black wig hung in front of her face, like a creature from a Japanese horror movie. The lights flickered out.

When they turned back on, she was standing at the edge of the stage, arms spread wide. She was tall, even without the heels; with them, she towered. Her hair was back, revealing a beautifully painted face; even John, who didn’t see the point of this sort of thing, had to admire the artistry. She was wearing a black gown of some sort of matte material, and black opera gloves. And on them, marching up her arms and around the curve of her bodice, curled around her throat--spiders. Huge, plastic spiders. And in her right hand, which she stretched out to the audience, slowly walking across her palm--

“Don’t worry,” she said, in a husky stage whisper. She stroked the back of the tarantula with one finger. “She won’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.” She snapped her teeth, and then smiled, looking suddenly self-conscious. Diana Explosion wolf-whistled. John shuddered. He looked around, plotting an escape route. When he looked back at the stage, Honey’s eyes were on him.

“If one of you could please do me a favor,” she said. “Tell the silver fox in the back row that I bite, too.”

John’s face burned. Georgie jostled him with her shoulder.

“He’s twenty-five,” she yelled back. The crowd laughed. Honey Wild ducked her head, and when she looked back, her smile was crooked.

“I suppose being with you has aged him prematurely, has it?” she said. Georgie laughed. John didn’t. The tarantula walked slowly along Honey Wilde’s palm.

“Only a joke,” she said. “Don’t let it... eat at you.”

Diana Explosion jeered. Honey shrugged. The gesture was strangely sheepish; it didn’t belong to the person in the gown and the dark red lipstick. Then the music shifted abruptly, pitched eerily up, and the performance began.

It seemed to be some sort of performance art, with slow techno interspersed with half-song stanzas of Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale. What that had to do with spiders, John couldn’t say. He stopped paying attention. As the queen lurched and undulated across the stage, John stared down at his drink and thought angry, vague thoughts about pointless, fatuous entertainment and pretentious artists and men who thought that having a cock counted as a political statement. The next number featured a queen in a ridiculous harlequin costume and some kind of calliope remix, and John ignored Georgie’s worried glances and insistent nudges and pulled out his phone.

When the break came, he slid past her and went out the side for a cigarette. It was a cool night; he stood with his back to the brick wall and looked up a the sliver of orange-grey sky above the buildings. He breathed in, felt nicotine fill his lungs, allowed himself a moment to relax.

The door swung open. The man who emerged was tall and trying not to be. He had unruly brown hair that seemed pressed down on one side, and was wearing a jumper, ripped shorts, and fishnets. There was a grey smudge of hastily removed eyeliner around his eyes. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry. Hello. Mind if I share the alley for a bit?”

John shrugged. He offered the man his pack of cigarettes--might as well be polite--but was turned down.

“It’s just--need to get some air, you know? Decompress. I always get a bit jittery after a number. Can barely hold my hands straight, ha.”

“Hm,” John said.

“I don’t know how Tim does it. Of course, can’t hurt that he’s just like that all the time, I mean. It’s not really work for him, he just puts on a dress and goes out there, does his thing. Stuff really comes natural to him, you know?”

“I suppose,” John said.

“Sorry--you’re probably trying to relax, and here I am, talking your ear off.” The man ran his fingers through his hair, making it even more untidy, and looked down. There was a flush creeping up the side of his neck. “I, um. I’ll be out of your hair in a second, I promise. Just, while I’m here, I wanted to apologize.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“If I crossed some sort of line,” the man went on, as though that explained something. “I mean, it’s what most people are here for, to be honest, someone to flirt with and be mean to them, but you seemed sort of uncomfortable? So. Sorry about that. It’s just, I don’t really do this that often anymore, I’m only here because Tim made me, and for the charity. So I’m out of practice with the back and forth, is all.”

John squinted at him. The lighting was different; so was his posture, the shape of his face without makeup. But no, he recognized him now.

“You’re Honey Wilde,” he said. “The one with the tarantula.”

“Oh! Yes. Sorry. Not right now, I mean, right now I’m Martin. But yeah, that’s me.” Martin gave an awkward little wave. John took a deep drag on his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Are you sure? You seem sort of...”

“It’s fine,” John said again, more firmly. Martin’s smile was pained. He had dimples, John noticed; they were slightly asymmetrical, the right one deeper than the left.

“Well that’s--good. I’m glad.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Martin kept looking at John, and then away; after a moment, John realized that he was being checked out.

He considered this. Martin wasn’t bad looking, as far as John could tell. He seemed nice enough. The apology had seemed genuine. And there was a part of John, a vicious, petty corner of his heart, that enjoyed the thought of leaving Georgie in the bar to go home with a virtual stranger.

“I’m sorry if it’s a step,” Martin said slowly, “but you don’t really seem to be enjoying yourself? Did your girlfriend drag you along, or something?”

“Ex girlfriend,” John said shortly. Martin’s eyes went wide.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I’m--that makes it worse, doesn’t it. I’m sorry.”

Of course, there were the negatives. Sex with someone he knew well was just as likely to be uncomfortable and awkward as it was pleasurable; with a stranger, the risk was doubled. Martin seemed courteous, but he still might take it personally when John asked him not to touch him, or have weird kinks, or just expect John to be more into it than he could possibly be and come to his own conclusions when John inevitably wasn’t.

John watched Martin run a broad hand through his hair again, and decided that it wasn’t worth it.

“It’s--it’s fine,” he said, shrugging. “It was a long time ago. She has a girlfriend now, actually, who’s working behind the bar.”

“That’s--Oh, you mean Melanie? That’s Melanie’s Georgie?” Martin smiled, more genuinely this time. “Melanie won’t shut up about her. They seem sweet.”

“I don’t know if sweet is the word I would use to describe Melanie King,” John said. “But yes. They do seem to suit each other, don’t they.”

“Yeah.” There was something wistful in the way Martin said it, and a little sad. They looked at each other. John felt an unpleasant roll of anxiety; this was it, this was the moment when Martin would make a move, and John would say no, and they’d both go back inside feeling uncomfortable and awkward.

But Martin just pushed off from the wall and looked back at the door and said, strangely tentative, “Well, it was good to meet you. I should get back in. I’m not performing any more, thank god, but I don’t want to miss the second act. I’ll, uh, see you around, yeah?”

John blinked at him.

“Right,” he said. Martin flashed him a quick smile, and then opened the door. Through it, John could hear Diana Explosion, calling out, “--your seats, my lovely monsters, let’s get this show back on the road.” Then Martin was gone, the door closed behind him, and John was alone.

He took another deep drag on his cigarette. His phone buzzed, a text from Georgie, asking him where he was. He muted his phone and put it back in his pocket. Not yet. Soon, but not yet.

#the magnus archives #tma #my fic #jonmartin #jo(h)n sims #martin blackwood #JM

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danseinthefallout · 5 years

Text

the art of danse - one

a paladin danse fanfiction

story warning; this story contains strong language, adult themes (such as violence, smut/NSFW themes, drug use, and other harsh themes) and canon and un canon language and story plots of Fallout 4 and Fallout 3.

summary; yea, the bombs may have fallen, but art and love have not. and of course, people still tell white lies

word count; 3,6k

chapter one - idiots

Stella wondered how she stumbled in a police station, fighting feral ghouls with a man who battle cried. One minute she was looking for her friends, Lucas and Joanna and the next was involved in military business. She knew that they needed help, even one man in power armor couldn’t take all those ferals at once. She saw one of his men down, lazily shooting at them as a woman was tending to him. She was hoping to ask if they have seen her idiot friends and she would be on her way back to Endcliff in hopes they would be there.

Stella was caught off guard by looking at the women tending to the man as he gave up as a feral flung at her, knocking her to the ground. This has happened more times then she’d like to admit. She reached for her gun as she used the back of it to bash in the skull of the feral ghoul. “Filthy fucker!” She yelled as she jumped back up and shot the feral in the head, just to make sure. The man in the power armor was fighting three more ferals, the number of them decreases. He seemed to have a hard time as one of them attacked his arm. Stella was a master at headshots and with three bullets and a steady eye killed each and every one of them. Stella looked down the street to see if any more were coming, but it was clear, thankfully.

Stella was unsure if she should stay around, after all, she could tell this was the Brotherhood of Steel territory. She only knew that from the orange outfits and the symbols that were around the police station. A while ago she bumped into a wounding scribe by the name of Danny. The man in the power armor came up to Stella as she held her gun close to her chest. Stella looked at the man’s face and couldn’t help notice how handsome he was. Her face grew red but hoped he didn’t notice due to the blood that was splattered on her skin. “We appreciate the assistance, civilian. But what’s your business here?” The man asked, his voice deep and more calming then his battle cry. Stella raised an eyebrow, remembering the idiots she called family. She let out a smirk, hoping that they didn’t get kidnapped by raiders… again.

“Looking for two idiots. Who are you?” Stella asked nodding her head at the man. Stella put her gun back in her hoser as she crossed her arms.

“I’m Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel. If I appear suspicious, it’s because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire. If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side,” The paladin spoke. Stella could use this to her advantage.

“Will do, but I need your help in return,” Stella spoke. “You know those idiots I referred too? Their the closest thing to family I got. It’s like them to trail off and get kidnapped by raiders or hideout for 2 days surrounded by feral ghouls. This time they promised me they would stay close and well, no one other than me is here. We’re from Endcliff, so making our way to the middle of the Commonwealth is a mission. Luckily, I got a signal from one of my teammates and it led me to Cambridge. Any help would mean a lot before I make way back home to see them there or not,” Stella sighed, frustrated at Lucas and Joanna. She hated traveling back home alone.

“Over there is Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys, Haylen will help decode the signal for you and track down where your team is, but we need your help,” The paladin spoke as Stella put a hand on her hip, listing.

“What do you need me to help with?” Stella asked

“We’re on recon duty, but I’m down a man and our supplies are running low. I’ve been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal’s too weak to reach them,” Stella could see the worry in the paladin’s eyes and couldn’t help but feel bad for him and his team. The women that were tending to the man, now known as Scribe Halen turned to Stella and Danse, butting in.

“Sir, if I may?” Haylen began.

“Proceed Haylen,” Danse instructed, Stella, raised her brow.

“I’ve modified the radio tower on the roof of the police station, but I’m afraid it’s not enough. What we need is something that will boost the signal,” Haylen informed Paladin Danse and Stella.

“We need a deep range transmitter, our target is ArcJet Systems. We secure the area, get the transmitter and bring it back here. Will you be willing to help us get it?” Danse asked.

“I said yes, didn’t I? Let’s get you a new transmitter,” Stella smiled.

“Sounds like a plan, stay behind me,”

***

Fucking synths! Stella had to fight first-gen synths just to get that stupid transmitter. Almost died twice, but with a little will, she got that transmitter. Haylen was decoding the signal she got on her Pip-Boy to see where Lucas and Joanna where. Danse and Stella were making their way back to the police station, Danse was explaining some stuff on their way there and back, but Stella kind of blacked out on the conversation, really focusing on her friends. She did look at him a lot, she hasn’t found a man that good looking in a while. Stella noticed how he spoke and how serious he was. She’d hope that she could travel with him again, but she knew after this, she has to find her friends and go back to Endcliff.

As they walked down the road back to the station, Paladin Danse broke the silence and looked at the women who held her gun tightly. “You mentioned you’re from Endcliff, why are you way out here?” Danse asked, breaking his serious military character. Stella thought for a moment and looked up at the man in armor.

“We’re on a supply run as well as a manhunt. A raider gang came though Endcliff a few weeks ago, stole some important technology from us, killed 3 of our people, and injured 6. That never happened to us before. Luckily, me and my friend Luna killed them, but their leader left with the tech piece we need most. We’re hoping to find that bastard and get that back,” Stella was vague on the subject but specific enough because she felt like she could trust Danse.

“I’m sorry to hear that citizen. I hope you track down and kill that scum,” Danse said with compassion.

“Name is Stella Kennedy by the way. I was a vault dweller for most of my childhood. Vault 101. I was 12 when I escape after a kid left to find their father. I guess I kinda wander off, found some friends at Little Lamplight and spent a year there. Became friends with Mayor… fuck was it MacKenny? Cready? Anyways...” Stella trailed off. “Shit… that must have been 10 years since that bullshit happened,” Stella smirked to herself.

“Vault 101 and Little Lamplight was in the Capital Wasteland, right?” Danse asked with suspicion.

“Yes, sir. I spent most of my days wandering around until I was 15 I made my way to the Commonwealth where I meet Lucas and Joanna,” Stella smiled.

“I grew up in the Capital Wasteland as well,” Danse smiled but also remembering everything that happened.

“No shit soldier, where from?” Stella asked

“Rivet City,” Danse simply respond

“I’ve only been there a few times, I bought some junk there to build my first gun and only went there to get supplies when I was leaving for the Commonwealth,”

Danse could see the police station getting closer and closer. The two went inside as Stella gave the transmitter to Danse. Haylen walked over at the two.

“The signal is coming from Lexington, from the Super Duper Mart there. Hopefully whoever you’re looking for is there,” Haylen smiled.

“Thank you so much. Since I help you and you helped me, I think I won’t bother you and your team. Perhaps we’ll meet again,” Stella smiled.

“Wait, before you go, I have something for you,” Danse said

“No need to give me anything,” Stella said softly. Danse rolled his eyes and handed her a laser rifle. It was beautiful, to say the least.

“No need, as a soldier we always pay our debts. I modded it myself, it’s called Righoues Authority,” Danse smiled as Stella smiled back, her heart grew.

“Thank you Paladin Danse. I’ll return the favor, I promise. Say, if you’re ever near Endcliff, you should visit sometime. Benji will question you, but tell him I sent you. Where can I find you and your team after this?” Stella asked, taking the gun from Danse.

“Rhys and Haylen will stay put, I’ll be going back to the Prydwen. If you ever need me, come back here and we’ll get a vertibird to fly you there,” Danse said “If you ever want to become a soldier yourself, we’ll talk and I’ll be your sponsor,”

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I’m soldier material. However, you’ll probably see me again,” Stella declined the offer.

“Ad victoriam,” Paladin Danse spoke. Stella knew what all that meet when she spent some time with Danny, smile smiled

“She doesn’t know what that means, why waste your breath,” Rhys scoffed

“To victory. Ad victoriam, to you Paladin. Thank you for everything,” And there Stella made her way to Lexington, with her head filled with Paladin Danse

***

Lexington was always a raider shit hole. It was sad that only raiders, ferals and even super mutants littered the place. Stella knew the ends and outs of the place, but always had to tiptoe just incase a landmine was placed and every raider and their dead mothers could hear it.

She scouted out the Super Duper Mart and saw some roaming ferals liter the place, but from the looks of it, most were dead. Probably from Joanna and Lucas. She could hear yelling from a raider in the back of the store. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m going to kill you both and keep it. Then I’ll find your friend who killed my gang.” Stella’s jaw dropped. It was him. She felt her heart beating out of her chest as she crouched down.

Although she didn’t know the three people that his gang killed all that well, she knew that justice had to survive for their families. She turned on the dim lights on her Pip-Boy as she made her way across the market, being careful to not make any noise. Last time she was here, ferals littered the store.

She saw the greasy raider towering Joanna. Only Joanna. She was tied up in a chair. It made Stella sick to her stomach. But she started to wonder where Lucas was and her mind started to race.

Stella made a plan, point, and shoot. She aimed her rifle at the raiders’ head, making a perfect headshot. When she pulled the trigger, nothing happened. Fuck! She thought she brought enough bullets for this mission, but she used the rest of her bullets on synths and ghouls. Ha, funny…

Stella saw as the raider integrated Joanna, but she couldn’t just walk in there, discuss the weather. She knew these sacks of shits, they’ll just kill Joanna and then her. Stella somehow forgot the gift the Paladin gave her and reached for it. She never actually used a laser rife before, so she was kind of excited to kill that scum bag with it. She put her rifle over her shoulder, took out the rifle and aimed. “Hey fuck face!” She screamed as the raider turned around and struggled to get his gun before Stella pulled the trigger a few times and blowing his leg off. Holy fuck, that Paladin is a killing machine if he made this.

The raider screamed in pain unable to do anything. “You fucking bitch!” He screamed, trying to crawl to Stella who rushed over to Joanna and untied the rope. Joanna went to a steamer trunk to retrieve her gun that Stella gave her on Christmas years ago and the piece that the raider stole from Endcliff

“Should we let him out of his misery?” Joanna asked as they fleed to the front door. Stella laughed, hearing the pain that the raider was in, desperate to escape.

“Never, he needs to feel pain for the people he killed,” Stella said as the left the market. “What happened to Lucas?” Stella asked with worry. Joanna held her gun.

“He went out looking for help, I think we went to that police station to ask for help, some Brotherhood of Steel members are held up there, heard it on my tracker when I made that distress call, hoping someone would help,” Joanna explained.

“Perfect, I was just there. Helped this really cute Paladin and his team was stranded. They said we can come back whenever I hope that’s true,” Stella doubted.

“Okay, you lead the way before ferals attack,” Joanna nodded. “Hey what’s up with you and the Brotherhood of Steel? Didn’t you hook up with a scribe back in the Capital Wasteland?” Joanna laughed making Stella blush.

“I was 15, he was 17, we dated, then we fucked, it just so happened that I was held up with some Brotherhood soldiers and he was one of them. We went over this!” Stella said, clearly embarrassed.

“What about Scribe Danny?” Joanna teased.

“We’re just friends,” Stella stated.

“That’s not what my eyes would tell me,” Joanna laughed as the walked down the broken road to the police station. Stella shoved Joanna, annoyed, but a small smirk formed her lips. “I’m so happy you figured out my signal. I was so scared and I never really felt that fear before. All I could think about when he was yelling at me was you and Lucas. I had hope, of course, but I started to expect my death. I only felt that way once before and that one time was the accident. I learned to accept my new life as a ghoul fast, that was before of you guys… I just couldn’t imagine a life without you two… or your life without me. Shit, sorry if that was deep,” Joanna laughed as Stella gave her a side hug.

“I’d get you if you ended up in the Institute or the Capital Wasteland. You’re my family, just like Lucas is,” Stella stated with full truth to her statement.

“I love you, Stella,” Joanna smiled as she stopped in her tracks, giving Stella the biggest hug.

“I love you more, Joanna. Thank you for everything these past seven years,” Stella let go and looked at Joanna, grabbing her shoulders. “Just remember you’re still Joanna. You’re not just a ghoul or a freak like those assholes in the Brotherhood think or the folks in Diamond City,” Stella preached as Joanna smiled and rolled her eyes. Joanna pushed her arms away and did the same thing to Stella.

“And goes to you, you’re more than a prototype, you’re the best goddamn gun modder in all the Commonwealth and you let me fuck up your hair when I can’t with mine,” Joanna laughed as she pulled on one of Stella’s dyed braids.

“Hey, I really like the split color look,” Stella shook her hair a little. “Also, don’t let the Brotherhood know I’m… whatever the fuck I am and I’ll tell them to suck my dick if they give you a hard time,” Stella smiled.

“If you think it’s a good idea…” Joanna sarcastically commented. “But I’ll probably just wear my gas mask when we get there,”

Approaching the police station, the two girls casually made way towards the door. Joanna put on a gas mask that she looted off a raider, she knew she couldn’t walk in and have the soldier happy to see her. That did hurt Stella to her core. She hated the new Brotherhood to be quite frank. The Brotherhood was never like that years ago. One of the soldiers gave her a weird look, not expecting to see the mysteries girl so soon.

“Is Paladin Danse still here?” She asked one of the Knights.

“Yes, civilian, you may enter,” The Knight stated. Stella entered the police station to see Scribe Haylen working on the transmitter and Knight Rhys planning something out on the table. Stella went up to Haylen and cleared her throat. Haylan looked up and smiled.

“Hey, Stella! You’re back sooner then I expected! And I’m assuming this is…” Haylen paused thinking of Joanna’s name

“Haylen this is Joanna and Joanna this is Haylen… I have a question,” Stella got to the point and leaned in.

“What would that be?” Haylen smiled.

“Has a dude by the name of Lucas, about yay high, blonde hair. Joanna told me that he was coming here for help,” Haylen put down her stuff and stood up straight.

“Yes, Paladin Danse went with him to look. I’ll call him telling them to abort their mission and come back to the police station. The two just left,” Haylen spoke as she went to the radio next to her. “Paladin Danse, come in Paladin Danse, head back to the police station, Joanna and Stella are here for Lucas, come in Paladin Danse,” Haylen spoke, hoping that he’d come in the other side. She waited a few seconds before a signal started to come in.

“This is Paladin Danse, aborting mission now,”

“Now we just wait,” Haylen smiled.

“Thank you so much Haylen seriously. I wouldn’t know where to look for Joanna if it wasn’t for you,” Stella smiled.

“Why does your friend wear a gas mask?” Rhys burst out, causing everyone’s head to turn to him.

“Rhys, you can’t just ask why someone wears something?” Haylen said, annoyed.

“Yea I can… So, why is that? Is there something you’re hiding?” Rhys smirked. Stella rolled her eyes and although you couldn’t see it, so was Joanna

“Hey asshole, why do you care?” Joanna blurted out. That caused Rhys to stand up, pissed off.

“You’re speaking to a Brotherhood Knight, civilian. I subject you don’t speak to me like that, or there will be a problem; so I’ll as you again, what are you hiding… freak?” Rhys said slowly as he approached Joanna until he was close to her face. Stella felt herself tense up because she knew how Joanna can get when some asshole threatens her. Stella grabbed Joanna’s shoulders.

“How about we just wait for Danse and Lucas to get here, please,” Stella stated.

“Please, Rhys can you just let this go. Danse will have your head if he sees you acting like this. I’m so sorry you two,” Haylen pleed.

“Fine, but I will figure it out, I always do,” Rhys said as he walked away.

“He’s such an ass! I’m so sorry,” Haylen was so embarrassed, her face was red like a tato.

“It’s fine, I’m use to that. I’m kinda burned up, don’t like showing my face a lot,” Joanna half lied.

“No need to explain. I don’t mind… Danse should be here any minute now,” Haylen stated as she started to finish up fixing the transmitter.

“Hey, thanks again, we’ll be outside and we’ll fight any more ferals that come this way,” Stella stated as she grabbed Joanna’s hand and went out the door. She didn’t want any gunfire especially when Joanna is on edge.

Stella turned to Joanna. “What the fuck was that Anna? I mean what the fuck for both of you… Please try not to get yourself killed AGAIN. We’re almost done, we got the piece and we just need Lucas and then we’re home free. Please… and also don’t say shit to this Paladin, at least don’t call him an asshole, he could be useful,” Stella begged as she hugged her rifle to her chest, looking up and down the road to check for ferals, the Paladin or the idiot she called Lucas.

“You just don’t want me to blow your chances to blow the Paladin. I bet he’s not that hot,” Joanna laughed.

“Ah! Shut up! I don’t have a thing for soldiers in the Brotherhood. It was a two-time thing, stop teasing me,” Stella was clearly annoyed, but Joanna loved it. Stella rolled her eyes as she looked down the street to see the Paladin in his power armor and Lucas. “Lucas!” Stella shouted as Joanna saw him and perked up. The two girls ran to Lucas and gave him the biggest hug as if they haven’t seen each other in ages.

“What the actual fuck dude! I almost shit myself thinking you died,” Joanna shouted as she let go and looked at the Paladin. Stella was right. He was as sexy as fuck. “And this must be your knight and shining armor ready to take you away and fuck you, aye,” Joanna laughed.

“That is not appropriate, civilian,” Danse said with the most seriousness. Stella slapped her face.

“I’m so sorry Paladin. Thank you for everything. I will repay you… and before Joanna says anything, nothing sexual,” Stella said as she looked at Joanna who was doing that thing with her hands to indicate a penis and a vagina. You know that hand signal. Stella flipped her off. “Anyways, we should head back to Endcliff before people get a search team for us. Make sure to visit if you’re ever in the area. Goodbye,” Stella smiled.

“Anytime, soldier. You have a character full of friends. I’ll make sure to use that opportunity,” Paladin Danse cracked a smile. “Ad victorim, Stella”

“Ad victorim, Paladin,”

Authors Note; I’ve been really into writing this story and I have already written 2 more chapters that I’ll post sooner than later! Thank you for reading and I will try to quench all of your Danse thrist and needs.

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