#i was originally just going to stick with the city-building stuff but more ideas kept coming to me as i wrote it out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

ALL IS FAIR

a/n: woohoo!! finally a harry fic! lol sorry i got very into marvel these past weeks but im finally bringing you some harry content! this one was originally requested by an anon sometime and then we kept talking about it until i actually got around to write it! hopefully you’ll like it and if you do, please like and reblog!

pairing: ceo!Harry x ceo!plussize!reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 16.7k

masterlist

“Stop being such a stuck up dick, it’s your birthday, bro!”

Harry rolls his eyes at his friend who walks into his penthouse as if he owned. Niall Horan was so well-known in Harry’s building that he could have easily walked into any homes in the tower and people would still welcome him warmly. It might have a few things to do with the fact that half of the residents in the Compass Tower are women who are hopelessly in love with either Niall or Harry, hoping for a chance to drag either of them into their bed one day. They have a lot more chance to do that with the Irish bloke than with Mr. Styles. Not that Harry doesn’t find them attractive, but he is not the type to have one night stands, something his friend gives him quite a lot of shit for.

“Would you fuck off for twenty more minutes?” Harry sighs, shooting him a look as he covers the speaker of his phone, in the middle of a call.

“You have ten minutes and we are leaving. I’m not letting you work on the night of your thirtieth birthday!” Niall warns him before walking into the kitchen to roam the always full, neatly stocked fridge.

As much as Niall Horan comes off as an irresponsible cocky child, he is quite the businessman himself as well. As the Lawyer of one third of New York’s most influential people, he surely doesn’t have to worry about making a living, enjoying his luxurious apartment a few streets away from Harry’s place on the Upper East Side. It’s not as expensive and impressive as Harry’s penthouse on the top of the tower his father built in the heart of the posh neighborhood most people only know from TV shows, but he couldn’t complain.

“Another designer refused to sign with us, H. We are running out of options,” Lambert’s voice rings through the phone as Harry turns to the floor to ceiling window, staring out to the city skyline in front of him.

“We have quite a few left, right?” Harry asks clenching his jaw.

“Yeah, but I heard that Cometa is planning on announcing something big next week so I think a lot of them are waiting for that to happen.”

“Do you think it’s another collab? But they just had fucking Chanel have a line sold through them!” Harry growls, his blood boiling at even just the thought.

When it comes to fashion in the virtual world, there are two businesses that totally dominate the industry. In the men’s wear, Twisted is definitely the number one selling place. The idea started off as just a freshman school project that originally wanted to sell tech stuff, but a few years into the project Harry met Lambert who was already a rising star in the fashion industry and they joined forces, creating the most classic yet affordable and user friendly online empire: Twisted. Though Twisted mostly features men’s clothing, they’ve been trying to venture to the field of women’s fashion, but it hasn’t been as easy as they thought it to be. And the reason for that is Cometa.

Cometa was originally a website where anyone could sell their own clothes, make their online wardrobe sale. But eventually the business grew itself out and stepped up a few levels, collaborating with various designers and brands, selling exclusive lines and a highly praised seasonal variety four times a year, earning a well-deserved top spot in the online fashion industry. It’s hard to compete with what Julia Bianchi built up through sweat and blood and Harry Styles has been working on stepping up to be a major competition for Cometa in women’s fashion, with not much luck so far.

To top the cake with a delicious looking cherry, Cometa has been trying to set feet into men’s fashion as well in the recent years, bringing out several lines with some mentionable designers, but they never made it be as big as Twisted. The two businesses have been trying to outdo each other for about a decade now, with not much luck so far and Harry’s patience is running low by now.

“I don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out. I’ll call you on Monday, alright?” Lambert sighs through the line.

“Okay, thank you,” Harry nods, feeling a little defeated.

“And happy birthday, man. Go and celebrate!” he chuckles, making Harry’s lips curl up as well.

“Thanks, have a good weekend,” Harry bids his goodbye before the call ends.

Wandering into the kitchen Harry finds Niall with the thickest ham and cheese sandwich between his hands, sitting at the kitchen island.

“So where exactly are we going tonight?” he asks, grabbing himself a granola bar as he joins the Irish lad on the stool next to him.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he grins, mouth full as he chews mercilessly. Harry grimaces, not sure how this is the same man who can convince a judge about basically anything, wearing his designer suits, putting on an intimidating and serious act for his cases.

“I have a switch,” Niall once told him when he asked how he does it. “I just turn it off when I’m off the clock.”

“You know I hate surprises,” Harry informs him matter-of-factly, but Niall doesn’t seem to be bothered by his comment.

“You’re thirty now, no one cares what you hate.”

“Says who?” Harry huffs.

“Me,” he grins, making Harry roll his eyes.

The bass is throbbing, red tinted lights illuminating the exclusive bar in the heart of Manhattan where Niall chose to gather some of Harry’s close friends to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. Sitting in the leather couches at a restricted area at the back of the place, they are hidden enough not to draw too much attention to themselves but still feel like they are part of the party.

“Cheers to three decades of this cocky motherfucker!” Niall beams as their glasses meet in the middle, everyone laughing and wishing Harry a happy birthday before they all chug their drinks.

Harry is not necessarily the type of person to enjoy going out too often, but he admits it’s been a while since the last time he let loose. It feels nice to have the evening to himself, leaving the business behind for just a couple of hours before he returns to his busy everydays.

Though the occasion is Harry’s birthday, Niall is surely enjoying the evening a tad bit more than his friend. After Harry sees him send down three tequilas in a row he realizes it’s not gonna end well if he doesn’t get some water into his system as well. Excusing himself from the group he heads to the bar, pushing his way through the dancing bodies until he finally reaches his destination.

Given how it’s a Friday evening, the place is packed and he waits in the line patiently while the bartender is fixing up the order of a group of girls a few stools down from Harry. Leaning onto the counter Harry runs his gaze over the dancing crowd, tapping his fingers against the surface to the beat, even bopping his head a little when he feels a push from behind him.

“Oh, sorry!” A female voice calls out and as he turns around he spots the owner of it, a young woman, her curvy body wrapped in a tight mini dress that leaves very little to Harry’s imagination as his eyes run up and down her figure. He has never seen a curvy girl as confident as her, she is radiating, drawing every male’s attention to herself like she is feeding off the hungry stares and dirty thoughts birthed by her.

Her eyes meet Harry’s gaze and the sly smirk that tugs on her perfectly shaped lips gives it away that she is not that sorry to be bumping into him.

“No worries,” is all he manages to say, the urge to drop to his knees right then and there stronger than anything he has ever had to fight.

“He won’t notice you,” she tells him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The bartender. If you just stand there like that… he will never come here,” she explains.

“I’m not sure I have what catches his eyes,” he jokes, making her laugh and he swears his stomach drops at the heavenly sound.

“May I?” she arches an eyebrow and Harry nods, letting her step in front of him. He stands tall above her, eyes fixed on her figure as she leans onto the counter, the marble pushing her breasts up just enough to spark the bartender’s fantasies when he glances in her way. She waves at him with a charming smile and a moment later the guy is standing in front of her, ready to please her in any way she desires.

“Three vodka sodas and…” she turns in Harry’s way, her lips slightly parted and his breath hitches in his throat. “What did you want, handsome?”

“Just, uhh—Just two water, please.”

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t comment on it, just adds the two water to her order. The bartender nods and disappears to fix up her drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and sticking his hand out to her he introduces himself.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” She takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry. Are you here alone?”

“Um, no. I’m here with a few friends,” he replies nodding towards the back of the place. “Are you here with someone?”

Please don’t say your boyfriend, please!

“A few of my girlfriends,” she smiles, brushing her hair over her shoulder, flaunting a better look at her naked neck and just one glimpse is sending a whirl of dirty thoughts into Harry’s mind. He wonders how soft her skin would feel under his lips, what her moans would sound as he sucks on it, leaving a mark on her, letting every man in the house know that he made her feel good.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” Y/N asks, a knowing smile on her lips as she most definitely saw Harry staring at her.

“Actually, yeah,” he chuckles a little nervously. “It’s my birthday.” Y/N’s eyes brighten up as she beams at him.

“Really? Happy birthday then!”

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly. “Are you guys celebrating something too?”

“Well, I…” she starts, her thoughts wandering off for a second before she continues. “I kind of got promoted,” she explains and Harry smiles down at her warmly.

“Congrats then!”

The bartender returns with the drinks and she is already about to get her card from her little clutch when Harry pulls his card out, handing it over to the guy behind the bar.

“Birthday boys shouldn’t pay for others,” she smirks, but doesn’t try to fight him that hard.

“You can pay me back later,” Harry shrugs with a suggestive smirk on his lips. He doesn’t want to part ways with her, but she is obviously expected to be back with her friends and he needs to get back to Niall as well before he absolutely loses control. Stepping closer to him, Y/N slides a hand up his chest, her palm resting at the base of his neck as she leans to his ear.

“Save me a dance, birthday boy?” she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing against him for a split second before she steps back, grabs her drinks and winking at him one last time she disappears from the bar. Harry stands there for a few more seconds before the bartender hands him back his card and snatching the waters from the bar he heads back to his friends.

Luckily, Niall is slowing down a little, The water does him well and Harry finally doesn’t feel like he’ll have to take care of him, dragging him home once the night is over. Sitting by the table Harry is trying to focus on the conversation, but his gaze keeps wandering over to the dance floor, looking for one particular curvy figure in the sea of dancing bodies.

It takes him some time to spot her, but when he does, he is not able to tear his eyes away from her.

She is almost perfectly in the middle with her friends surrounding her, lips and shoulders swaying to the rhythm perfectly. He catches her chug down the last sips of her drink before she disregards the glass and gets back to dancing. Watching her every move intently, Harry feels his lips slightly part at the sight of this angel who is for sure a devil in the sheets. He can’t stop himself fantasizing about what it would feel like to dig his fingers into her thighs, kiss her neck, her cleavage that’s on show now, how her curves would fit into his hands perfectly. He wants to praise this woman, make her feel good and not just because he wants to be selfless and please her, but also because seeing this woman reach her high because of him would be the biggest ego boost for him and he just needs that.

“Go dance with her!” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at him when he catches Harry staring at her.

“What? No, I’m not a dancer,” he shakes his head, shifting his eyes away from the dancing goddess on the dance floor.

“Oh come on, don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a pussy, I just—“

“You’re a pussy. I saw her looking in your way as well, she wants your dick!”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry whines rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when he gets so vulgar, but luckily no one heard their conversation. Glancing back in Y/N’s way Harry sees how men are eyeing him, probably building up the courage to go up to her and that has his blood boiling. He needs to be the one to touch her.

Chugging down the rest of his drink he snaps the glass on the table before standing from his seat, ignoring Niall’s cheering as he makes his way into the crowd.

Harry didn’t lie when he said he is not a dancer, he feels uncomfortable, awkward and uncoordinated most of the times he tries to dance, but he is pushing all of those to the back of his mind for now as his eyes are set on one person in the crowd.

When Y/N spots the man approaching her, she can’t push a pleased smile off her lips, slowing her movements down as Harry finally reaches her, leaning closer to her ear so she can hear his voice over the music.

“Here to collect that dance,” he smugly tells her, making her laugh, though the music is too loud to let him hear her. She just nods and turning around she presses herself up against him, her backside fitting his front perfectly. Harry’s hand snake around her waist, his large palm smoothly moving through the silky fabric of her dress as they start moving together.

She is intoxicating, makes Harry feel like he is some kind of horny teenager, like he hasn’t dealt with women before, but in a way, she makes all of his past flings appear to be only girls. Her confidence in her own body is easily one of her best traits, the way she handles herself, moves her body, the look in her eyes, Harry is getting drunk on just watching her and now he is able to touch her as well.

When he feels himself getting hard in his pants, he knows he should be at least a slightly bit embarrassed by himself, but as Y/N turns around in his arms and he sees the pleased smirk on her lips, the feeling vanishes in a heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close, her lips brushing against his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?” she prompts before pressing a kiss to the soft skin under his ear and he can’t hold a growl back. The friction is almost unbearable, as his hands slide lower on her back, stopping on her ass, he knows he won’t be able to control himself any longer. Luckily, he is not the only one having this inner fight.

Snapping around Y/N grabs his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd towards the hallway of the bathrooms. He follows her eagerly, lucky for them, the club doesn’t have restrooms with several stalls, but single bathrooms with a lot more comfort and privacy. Just what they need right now.

They find the third bathroom empty, pushing their way inside and locking the door before Harry pushes her up against it the moment it’s just the two of them, their mouths hungrily meeting in the middle. He almost grunts against her lips, she tastes even better than he imagined and the way her tongue is the first one to come into action has got his mind blown. His hands roam up her body, running up all her curves until they reach her face and he cups it in his palms, pressing his hips against her. She moans against his mouth when his hard cock pokes against her, both of them desperate to take it further.

Tumbling further into the small bathroom, he helps her up to the counter next to the sing, her legs instantly opening for him, her tiny dress rolling up her thighs, revealing her clothed sex. Harry eagerly kisses his way down her neck and chest, her skin feeling so smooth under his lips. His fingers hook under the thin straps of her dress, tugging them down so he can push the dress past her full breasts and thank God she is not wearing a bra underneath!

“Fuck me, you are so hot!” he breathes out, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she cockily answers before Harry’s mouth attaches to her nipple, his hand working on her other breasts before he switches.

He quickly gets down on his knees, pushing her underwear to the side before his lips and tongue meet her sensitive clit.

“Oh shit!” she moans, a hand coming to tangle in his hair while she tries to hold herself steady with leaning on the other one behind her. There’s no time for teasing now and they both know that.

She is so lost in the experience, Harry is licking and sucking just the right spots and she tries to close her legs, locking his head between her thighs. His arms come to curl around them, ring clad fingers digging into her flesh and the situation might be a little suffocating for him, but he doesn’t mind it a bit. In fact, if he died this way, he would die a happy man.

She doesn’t let him finish what he started, pulling him up, his lips still glistening from her own juices as she kisses him messily, wiggling herself out of her underwear while he undoes his pants as well.

“Shit, do you have a condom?” he breathes out when his palm wraps around his throbbing cock. She nods, reaching for her clutch she dropped to the counter and digging into it she grabs the package, smacking it against his chest playfully. “Were you planning to do this tonight?” he grins cockily as he rips the package open and starts rolling it down his hard length.

“No, I’m just smart, unlike you,” she retorts, her sass dripping from her tone and it just riles him up even more.

Grabbing her thighs he yanks her to the edge of the counter, a gasp leaving her plump lips as she tries to find her balance quickly.

“Don’t be a brat,” he growl against her lips before kissing her, while he lines himself up with her, the head already pushing in.

“Then fuck me, birthday boy,” she challenges him again and it’s the last straw.

Harry slams into her, both of them moaning at the sensation before he starts thrusting in a fast pace, needing all the friction he can make to get them to finish as soon as possible. Y/N’s head falls back as she holds onto the back of his neck, her other hand on the counter behind her again and Harry glances down, watching her breasts bounce every time he rails into her, slamming his whole length into her every time their hips meet.

She reaches for one of his hands that’s holding her thigh and she boldly brings it to her core, tapping his fingers to her clit, letting him know that she wants some extra effort. Harry doesn’t say it, but he is blown how she didn’t just do it herself, she made him do it. It’s got to be one of the hottest things he has ever seen.

“Fuck, go harder!” she gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist as he picks the pace up, feeling his orgasm building rapidly with each thrust.

They both are a whimpering, moaning mess, the bass of the music is thumping outside and for a moment, Harry feels like he is finally living his life to the fullest.

“I’m gonna cum!” she breathes out, his name falling from her lips moaning after that and when she pulls him down to kiss him, biting into his bottom lip and tugging it, he loses himself.

He feels himself jerking inside her, still sliding in and out of her as he grunts, releasing himself into the condom. He flicks his fingers on her clit at the same time, creating just enough friction to push her over the edge as well. He is coming off his own high when her walls tighten around his cock, dragging his orgasm out even longer as she basically screams, gasping for air, riding her orgasm out to the last bit.

Leaning down he kisses her again though they are still panting, this time making it a lot less rushed than the time their lips met for the first time. Her legs fall from around his waist and he pulls out, both of them cleaning themselves up in the aftermath of their little session.

“I know this was quite rushed and all that, but can I have your number?” he asks, even feeling a little nervous. She puts her underwear back on, smoothing her dress down as she smiles up at him, cupping his face in her palm.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to skip on that,” she tells him simply, shocking him for sure.

“D-Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” she shakes her head and now Harry is confused.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” he then asks, trying his best to figure out the reason behind the rejection.

“I did. But it was a one time thing. If it’s supposed to turn into more…” she sighs, grabbing her clutch from the counter. “Then I’ll leave it to fate if we ever meet again,” she shrugs before turning around she just unlocks the door and walks out, leaving Harry stand there in complete and utter shock.

This is definitely a first for him, a woman who doesn’t want to see him again. He is not that egoistic to think that everyone is in love with him, but he never had an encounter similar to this. Not after the most amazing sex ever.

Harry fixes himself up, still not believing she walked out that easily, but there’s not much he can do now. Walking back to his table, he acts like nothing happened and when his eyes scan over the crowd again, he can’t see her anymore.

Harry lets out a tired sigh when Zayn, head of the graphic design department walks into his office with a familiar brown paper bag with the logo of Harry’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Has it started already?” Zayn asks, though glancing at the big screen on the wall he can see the stream is still waiting to be started.

“No, I’ve been staring at it for like twenty minutes,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself away from his desk to join Zayn on the couch in front of the screen as he unpacks the food. “What do you think it’s going to be?”

Today is the day of Cometa’s big press conference and no one knows what they are about to announce. It’s been keeping Harry on the edge for the past few days, because whatever it is, it has got to be major. Julia Bianchi is not the type of person to hold press conferences, she is a private person who has managed to keep most of her life behind closed doors. That’s something Harry admires in the woman even though they are competitors in the business. He can relate to wanting to keep her life just for herself, he has been doing the same thing. No public appearances, no lengthy interviews, no photoshoots. He likes to let his work talk for himself and it’s proved to be a successful move so far.

“I don’t know, but I hope they don’t suddenly announce a full graphic makeover right before our update,” Zayn chuckles. He has been working on an entirely new appearance for the website these past weeks and it’s supposed to go live sometime later in the month. A change for Cometa would totally throw their attempt off, making them look like they are just copying Julia’s move.

They eat and wait for the stream to start when the screen finally comes alive. There’s an empty stage shown with just two mic stands in the middle and nothing really happens for a few minutes before clapping is heard from behind the camera and Julia finally walks on the stage.

The woman is a real diva. Wearing a matching pant suit with bold floral print all over it, her short hair is neatly straightened into a bob cut, her red lips smiling lightly as she waves around in the room. Julia has been in the fashion industry for almost three decades now and she surely made a name for herself, sitting front row in every fashion show she attends, her words on any new trend being basically the standard.

Stepping to one of the mics, she clears her throat as the clapping dies down and her calm, gentle voice rings through the speakers.

“Welcome, everyone, thank you for coming, as you might already know I’m Julia Bianchi, head of Cometa, the world’s best online women’s fashion house.”

Harry leans back in his seat, eyes fixed on the woman on the screen as he is patiently waiting to hear what she’s got for the people this time.

“I’ve spent twenty-seven wonderful years in the business, building my own one for the past two decades. I fell in love with fashion as a child and moved to Milan to study designing from the bests. Though designing has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, I saw an opportunity in the early years for a brand that would hold together every other brand in the industry, bringing it to everyone’s home thanks to the rapidly developing technology. Cometa has always been my little baby and I’m proud of everything I achieved as head of such a great company.”

Harry realizes what it’s about before Julia could even say the words herself. The phrasing, the nostalgic tone, it’s all adding up to the obvious: Julia is about to announce her retirement.

“I gave the best years of my life for this company and I regret nothing, but recently I’ve realized that it is time for me to slow down for a little bit and enjoy a life that’s not filled with work anymore, and spend more time with my beloved husband, Fabio and my family who supported me on my long way here. Therefore, I am now announcing it with an aching heart and a lot of excitement as well that I am stepping down from my role as CEO of Cometa. I might be leaving now, but my business will not. So it is a pleasure to introduce you the person who will carry my legacy on, my amazing niece, the absolutely most perfect woman to carry on the work I started, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The moment another woman comes into the picture Harry almost chokes on his own saliva, seeing the same curves he had his fingers dug into last Friday. Y/N smiles and waves around as she steps to the other mic next to her aunt, exchanging a short look with her before turning towards the people in the room and the camera that’s streaming the event.

“Dude, you alright?” Zayn asks, patting Harry’s back a few times as he is still struggling to breathe normally.

He refuses to accept that the woman he fucked in a bathroom on his birthday, the one that made him moan like never before, is the same woman who is going to take over his biggest competitor.

“This has got to be a joke,” he breathes out with teary eyes from all the coughing.

“It is an honor to be here,” Y/N starts speaking as the clapping dies down once again and the two men are staring at the screen. “Just like to be the one to step into the perfectly stylish shoes of my aunt. I hope to live up to not just her and everyone else’s expectations, but also to mine as well. I grew up watching my aunt build up this empire with basically dust so to be the person to take her place is a dream come true. I promise to keep the quality the same and work on improving Cometa to its possible best while being in charge.”

As she finishes talking, questions are thrown in her way, but Harry doesn’t pay attention any longer. Standing up he walks to the window, staring out to the city as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously.

“What the fuck is your problem, H? It wasn’t as bad as we expected, right?” Zayn questions.

“It’s fucking worse!” he snaps turning around. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that… I told you about what… happened on my birthday.”

“The bathroom fuck, oh yeah,” Zayn chuckles with a playful shine in his eyes.

“Well, that woman… the woman I fucked was her.” Zayn stays silent for a moment before he turns towards the screen, eyeing the woman on the stage as she is still answering questions, standing confidently in her tight, black dress and red heels.

“You fucked Julia Bianchi’s niece? And she is now taking over Cometa?” he raises his eyebrows at Harry who just nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “And she is also the one who didn’t give you her number?”

“Don’t… bring that up. But yes, it’s her.”

Zayn starts laughing, clearly finding Harry’s misery entertaining, but Harry doesn’t feel like taking it that easy. He wonders if she knew who he was, if she did it on purpose or it was fate’s horrible joke on both of them.

“Ah man, that charity event on Saturday will be one hell of a show then!” Zayn points it out and Harry’s face falls. He totally forgot about the charity event he was invited to, one that would have the biggest names in the fashion industry together in a ball room to raise money for a chosen good cause. It happens every year and it’s a major event, the perfect place to network and also to see your biggest enemies. That means that Harry will see Y/N again in a few short days and if he is being honest… he is not ready to face her, not after the information he learned today. Sighing he steps to the minibar he insisted on having in his office and though he never drinks during the day, he now thinks that now might be an exception. He pours himself some whiskey and before he chugs it down at one go, he lets out a long, tired sigh.

“That’s just my luck…”

Leslie helps you with the zipper of your dress, the silky, red fabric hugging your body like a second skin. She smoothes the wrinkles out while you fix the straps, staring back at yourself in the mirror with judgment. You need to look perfect, this is going to be your first time appearing at an event as CEO of Cometa, your big entrance into the industry, you can’t let anything go wrong.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Leslie smiles at you, bringing your hair behind your shoulders as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. Leslie might be your assistant, but she is a lot more than that. You’ve been friends for almost a decade and when she lost her job a few years ago you didn’t hesitate to offer her a spot next to you. You wouldn’t be here without her, she doesn’t try to use her privilege of being your friend to not do the work, she is always on top of her game and you’ll always be grateful for her to not make it awkward at all.

“I think you need some diamonds though,” she winks at you, stepping to the table where all kinds of jewelry is sprawled out. She reaches for a simple one, not too much, quite elegant and you nod as she holds it up for you. Walking behind you she brings it around your neck, the diamond brilliantly sitting on your chest now, giving that little extra shine to your outfit.

“You’ll make every man fall in love with you,” she smiles at you and breathing out you nod, hoping to believe that everything will go perfectly.

While you make a few last minute calls she gets dressed as well before the car arrives for the two of you. She is wearing a less daring but still beautiful black dress, her curly hair pinned up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her heavily freckled face bright from her happy smile as the two of you make your way to the event.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I tried to memorize the faces and names from the guest list,” she grins at you, earning an eyeroll.

“Les, I told you, this is not The Devil Wears Prada,” you chuckle softly. She is obsessed with that movie and hasn’t shut up about feeling like she is literally living in it since your aunt has shared her plans with you about your future position last year.

“I know, but it might be impressive if you already knew everyone!”

You have to give that to her, it would earn you a few good points if you knew the names already, you’re just still nervous about the whole thing. So many things could go wrong and you want it to be perfect.

At first you feel intimidated by all the influential people around you. Everyone here is one of the bests in their own field and you feel like an impostor, but then you remind yourself that you earned your spot. Your aunt wouldn’t have given you the company if she didn’t trust you entirely with it. You worth no less than anyone else in this ball room and that reminds you that… you’re that bitch.

Leslie’s knowledge of names actually comes handy. You love seeing people get shocked when they try to introduce themselves to you, but you already greet them saying their names. It earns you some appreciative looks as you make your way around the room. Everything is going smooth, right until you spot one particular man in the crowd.

You’re in a little circle with a few designers when your gaze falls on Harry who is standing across the room, talking to two men. The champagne almost slips from your hand when you realize it’s him.

“Leslie,” you grab her wrist catching her attention. “Les, who’s the man in the blue Gucci suit?” you ask in a whisper and she follows your gaze, finding the man in talk.

“Oh, that’s Harry Styles, head of Twisted.”

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and head out to the balcony to get some fresh air before you faint right on the spot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Leslie follows you.

“I messed up,” you squeak as you step outside, the chilly evening air hitting your uncovered skin immediately. “I messed up big time!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

Stepping to the edge, you wrap your hands around the railing, staring out into the void for a moment. Leslie Stands beside you, quite puzzled about your sudden panic.

“Remember the guy I told you about from Friday night?” you ask, keeping your voice down even though there’s no one really around. Leslie nods. “Well… he was the guy.”

Leslie glances back inside and then at you before her eyes widen and lips part in shock.

“You fucked Harry Styles at a club’s bathroom?!” she whisper-yells at you and you feel like a teenager who is getting scolded.

“I didn’t know who he was! And I genuinely think he didn’t know me either, how could he?! But now he is here and… Oh God, this is so bad,” you whine, your head dropping backwards as you let out a frustrated growl.

“Okay, don’t panic. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t remember you.”

“You can’t make me believe he doesn’t remember me after fucking me on a counter,” you tell her giving her a look.

“Alright, alright. Then… you just have to suck it up. It’s not like you can unfuck him,” she shrugs and though you know she is right, you just wish you could leave right now.

You never planned on seeing him again. Your bullshit speech about letting fate decide it was just an excuse to not give him your number. You didn’t want to because you thought he is not the kind of man that would be good for you. From his look you thought that he was either a fuckboy, not willing to commit to anything serious, or the kind of man that seems all nice and respectful at first but then turns out to be a total asshole and you’ve had enough of those in your twenty-eight years.

Soon enough you head back as the auction is about to start. Luckily, your seat is far away from Harry and it seems like he hasn’t noticed you yet. Though you wish to keep it that way, you can feel it coming already.

The auction goes by fast, you buy a new painting that will look amazing in your living room and almost twice as much money is raised through the evening that was the goal. You leave Leslie behind at the table as you go to the bar to get yourself another drink, probably your last one of the evening if you don’t want to end up making a fool out of yourself.

Patiently waiting at the bar you’re already thinking about watching Grey’s Anatomy when you get back and out of this tight dress. You look hot, but it’s not the comfiest look, if you’re being honest. There’s only one more person in front of you when you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turning around your stomach drops when you see the man you’ve been trying to avoid all evening.

“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N,” he nods shortly, his expression is quite blank, but he is definitely not shocked to see you. You tighten your jaw before looking away from him, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You don’t seem surprised,” you point out.

“I was kind of expecting to see you here tonight.”

“So you knew who I was all along?” you snap at him, but he shakes his head.

“Not until the stream this week. I was pretty shocked when you walked on stage.”

Nodding shortly you brush your hair over your shoulder and you catch Harry glimpsing down your body, but decide not to comment on it.

“Did you know who I was?” he then asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

“No, I wouldn’t sleep with my biggest competitor willingly.”

“Just from the abrupt ending I had a feeling that you might have known me.”

“Just because a woman doesn’t throws herself into your arms after a fuck, doesn’t mean she had ulterior motives,” you scoff. “Get off your high horse,” you add before turning back towards the bar so you can order your drink. Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t want the conversation to end just yet. His hand is laid flat on the counter in front of you as he stands on your right, a little too close to your liking. You can smell the expensive cologne on him, the same that hit your nose on Friday as well and suddenly your body is betraying you.

However crazy the situation is, you can’t deny that he gave you one of the best times last Friday. Men you dealt with were more concerned about their own pleasure and most of them didn’t even get you to finish. But Harry made it happen so fast and didn’t even bitch about it when you made him rub your clit. He just obeyed like a grownup man who is willingly take care of his partner. That almost made you change your mind about leaving, but once you came down from cloud nine, you returned to your original plan.

But not as he is standing in front of you and you can smell him, your senses trick you into thinking that you’re in that bathroom again, almost aching for him to touch you the way he did then. He leans closer to your ear as he speaks up again.

“Leave the drink, dance with me,” he tells you as the bartender places your drink in front of you. You debate what to do before grabbing the drink and chugging it down in one go. You’ll need the alcohol if you are about to dance with your enemy.

Harry takes you to the dance floor in the middle of the ball room, one of his hands finds the small of your back while the other takes your hand as the two of you start swaying to the gentle music played by the band.

“Your aunt set my company back in women’s fashion every time I tried to take a step forward. Are you going to do the same?”

“She didn’t do anything to set you back but to build her own company. Not everything is about you.”

“You sound a little naïve, Love. It’s pretty clear you are new in the business.” This statement riles you up big time. How dare he degrade you like that? He knows nothing about you, yet he assumes things that are not at all real.

Smirking to yourself you lean back enough so your gazes can meet. Your hand slides up from his shoulders to the base of his neck so your fingers can gently brush against his skin and you notice the shudder than runs down his spine. He is not the only one having flashbacks from your last encounter.

“Wanna know what I know about business?” you purr, his eyes glued to your red lips as you speak. “I know that… Twisted was one of the last sites to participate in personalized ads on online platforms, failing to reach it’s targeted audience as fast as literally everyone else. I know that your company and my company use the same security system in our server rooms yet I can assure you that it cost me twenty percent less because we waited a month before installing it and got a huge last minute discount because the security company was trying to boost their numbers for their end of year closing. And I also happen to know that you are working on a new design for your website that could easily be outshone if I just did the same before you could do it.”

Harry’s lips part, probably mostly at the last information. He has no idea how you know these stuff, but you have a wide circle of connections in the city, you have an insider at every big companies in the industry without them even knowing. You’ve given countless tips to your aunt through the years, that’s how she managed to stay on top of her games.

Leaning closer your lips almost brush against him and you see how he weakens, he is expecting you to kiss him and he wants it. But you just smile at him, your eyes snapping down to his lips before up to his eyes.

“I will not do the same as my aunt, Harry,” you softly speak, your fingers grazing the back of his neck. “I will do way worse things.”

And with that, you slip out of his arms and walk back to your table, leaving him standing there alone at a complete loss of words.

“What the fuck had gotten into you?” Niall grimaces upon hearing everything he told you on the evening of the charity event. And quite frankly, Harry has no answer to that. He has absolutely no idea what had gotten into him to act like such a dick when you didn’t do anything against him.

The situation just messed with his head, seeing you in that breathtaking dress, mingling with everyone, smiling and laughing, oh how he wished you were laughing on his jokes! But then you seemed so tensed when he came up to you and something just switched in him. He wanted to take dominance, to somehow get out of it on top, but he miserably failed. When you brought up their plans to change the design he completely froze.

“No idea, okay? I just…lost it,” he growls, sinking into the couch. When Niall found out that Harry met the woman from the club again he insisted on coming over with some wine to talk it out, but he was not expecting this kind of story at all.

“Dude, you just put yourself on her radar big time, maybe she wouldn’t have even bothered to compete with you like her aunt did, but you surely changed her mind now.”

“I know, Niall!” Harry growls, not in the mood to be scolded like a little child. “Do you think she’ll change their design before we do?” he peeks at his friend, but Niall just shrugs.

“No idea, but I would try to speed it up before she actually does it.”

Harry made you into a ticking bomb and you successfully got under his skin about the whole design project so first thing the next morning he went to Zayn to discuss a possible earlier debut for the new designs. Though it would be a close stretch, they agreed that it would go live by the end of the week and that got Harry somehow a little relieved, but in the middle of that he failed to put the right amount of effort into finding designers for their female lines.

When he meets up with Lambert a few days later he is not there to deliver great news. Apparently, three out of the four designers they were negotiating with recently pulled out of their deal and signed a contract with Cometa.

“We have one last designer on the list, but then… we are out of the bigger names,” Lambert sighs as Harry chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels like he has fallen into a hole a while ago and instead of climbing out he is just digging it deeper underneath him.

“Okay, do we have an appointment with them?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her this afternoon.”

“I’m going with you,” he nods before standing from his chair and opening the door he calls out for his assistant. “Rebecca, please clear my schedule for this afternoon, I’ll be out of the office.”

Rebecca nods behind her desk, already starting to make calls about Harry’s meetings and appointments.

It’s obvious he is anxious about the meeting, because if it falls through they are forced to look for less known designers and that won’t bring the change for the company they’ve been seeking for a long time. Arriving to the showroom where the designer is working, Harry is setting his thoughts straight, determined to convince her to sign a contract with them. The two men are let into the building by the nice assistant working at the front desk and she shows the way to the showroom where Kennedy, the designer is waiting for them.

Harry is confident, he trusts his skills to make this happen, but when they walk inside he instantly freezes upon seeing an all too familiar figure standing with Kennedy

A maroon colored pantsuit is hugging your curves, a Hermés handbag hanging from your arm, your hair falling in loose curls. As if you could sense his presence, you peek over your shoulder, a devilish smirk on your lips when you see the shocked expression on Harry’s face.

“What a great surprise!” you beam, selling how happy you are to see him and in a way, you are. You wanted to see his face drop when he realizes you snatched yet another designer from him.

“Oh, Mr. Styles!” Kennedy smiles nicely at him and he finally snaps out of his trance, shaking hands with her and then turning to you, doing the same but in a lot colder manner.

“Y/N, nice to see you again,” he fakes a smile as your hand falls from his palm.

“I could say the same. But I’m heading out now. Great talk, Kennedy. I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at the young designer who seems to be thrilled by your words as she walks you to the exit.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath and Lambert shoots him a look before Kennedy returns.

The three of them take a seat on the couches in the corner of the room and Harry is quick to get down to business, trying his best to make his offer appear more appealing than anything you told her right before their arrival. Kennedy listens intently, even takes notes and then she shows him some examples of what she was thinking about for her next line and Harry is beyond thrilled.

Unfortunately, soon comes the painful part.

“Harry, I’m gonna be honest with you,” Kennedy starts and Harry already knows what she is about to say. “Your offer is very tempting and it would be an honor to design a line for Twisted, but in my situation it would be more beneficial if I collaborated with Cometa. It is nothing against your company, it’s more about my personal path and growth.”

Harry can feel his stomach dropping and he clenches his jaw as he listens to Kennedy’s worth. He understands, of course he understands, she has the right to selfishly look at her own benefits upon signing with a new company, but he wished she would take the risk and chose his company instead of yours.

“I’m keeping the offer open for you still,” he forces a smile on his face. “If you change your mind, Twisted would be more than happy to work with you.”

Kennedy walks the two men out and the fake smile quickly vanishes from Harry’s face upon stepping out of the building.

“What are we going to do now?” Lambert asks, clearly worried about how they’re gonna move forward with their last chance falling.

“If Y/N wants a war, that’s what she’ll get,” Harry growls, revenge burning in the greens of his eyes.

It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, only hours left from the day before you are headed home finally. You’re sitting in your office with Leslie, going over next week’s schedule to make sure everything is set and clear.

It’s been almost an entire month since you stepped into your aunt’s shoes as head of the company and though the start was a little rough, especially with finding out who Harry was, but you feel like you have everything under your control by now. After all, you didn’t learn business for years from the bests for nothing, right?

Harry’s comment on you knowing nothing about the industry made you bitter, because he knows nothing about you and the struggle you went through your life to get to this point. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbow, being Julia’s niece might have been a hugely influencing aspect of you taking over, but you worked your ass off to be the best leader you can and not just ruin everything she built up through her whole life.

Though you didn’t always want to be the one following her, but you like to think that things worked out to your favor and you are where you should be.

“Alright, everything is looking fine,” Leslie smiles at you over her laptop. “I’ll send you the notes from today’s meeting.”

“Thank you. Can you call in with the delivery company about next month’s transactions?” you ask her and she nods, already adding it to her list of tasks for the rest of the day. “Alright. I’ll do the rest of the signings and then we can head out,” you smile at her.

Leslie is grabbing her things from the table when there’s a soft knock on the door. You give your permission and one of the tech support guys walk in with a worried look on his face.

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m afraid we have a problem,” he clears his throat and you can already feel your anxiety crawl up on your spine.

“What is it?” you ask firmly. The guy steps farther inside, fumbling with his fingers as he presents the issue.

“There’s been an attempt to break our software’s security system where we keep our data about the sellings. A-And I’m afraid it wasn’t just an attempt, they succeeded.”

You take a deep breath, glancing over at Leslie for a moment before you follow the man to the tech department to investigate the issue further. You don’t know shit about these stuff, but from what he said you know the trouble is huge and if you don’t solve it as soon as possible, valuable data could leak out to the public. They try to explain you what they are working on as of right now and that there’s not much you can actually help with.

“Make sure to put your extra hours on your attendance sheets and let me know when you are able to restore the system,” you tell them and you earn quite a few thank yous on your way out for actually paying the overtime. Then you turn to the guy that first came to your office. “Do you have any information about who it could have been?”

“We weren’t able to track them back, but whoever it was, they’re surely professionals and they might know the system from the inside.”

“What do you mean from the inside? Someone did it from the company?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together as you fold your arms on your chest.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We would have been able to track that back. I mean that they know the system, maybe they worked somewhere where the same one was used and they could see into it.”

It takes you a few moments before you realize what this really is and it has your blood boiling right away. Nodding shortly you exhale sharply through your nose.

“Thank you, please call me when it’s up and running again, I’ll take care of the rest,” you tell him before turning around you walk away.

When Leslie sees you approaching your office with a head practically turning red she is quick to jump to her feet, following you into the office.

“What’s happening?”

“Harry Styles, that’s what happening,” you snap as you grab your phone, purse and coat before heading out, not wasting another minute.

“What? Where are you going now?”

“To the devil himself,” you growl back and enter the elevator, leaving her alone with her questions.

Sitting in your car on your way to the headquarters of Twisted, you imagine every scenario you want to make happen when you arrive, most of them including hitting the man across his ridiculously handsome yet annoying face. He crossed a line with breaking into your system and stealing valuable data. Though you’re sure he wouldn’t dare to sell or publish it, because he would be in a big legal trouble if he did, he still had a glimpse into your numbers and that’s already an advantage. He is playing dirty and you’re not having any of it.

Arriving you burst through the doors and demand to see him. Though the woman behind the front desk tells you that you can’t see him without an appointment, you still get her to make a call up and naturally, Harry allows you to see him. The fucker might already have been waiting for you to show up. As you stand in the all glass elevator, on your way up to meet him you take a few deep breaths to keep your cool and not snap like a maniac, however it all vanishes when you see him waiting for you with that shit-eating grin on his face when you step out of the elevator.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go straight to the police with your little stunt, you fucker!” you snap, not able to hold back your swearing any longer.

“Do you have any evidence?” he tilts his head to the side and you don’t miss how his gaze runs down your body as you march towards him. You’d find it flattering in another situation, but right now you just want to punch him in the face.

“I’ll show some evidence down your throat, Styles, if you don’t stop messing with my security system,” you growl back, standing so close to him now that you see every tiny freckle and blemish on his face and the way how he clenches his jaw, holding his gaze on yours.

Without a word or invitation, you walk into the room that you suppose is his office and he follows with a soft chuckle.

“Did you hire a hacker just to mess with me?” you throw the question at him as he closes the door so his employees don’t hear everything.

“What if I did?” he shrugs, stepping to the tray on his desk that already has a glass of whiskey on it. He grabs the glass and simply lifts it to his lips, taking a tiny sip from it. “Oh, excuse my manners. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m driving,” you answer shortly. “You crossed a line, Harry,” you warn him.

“What line?” he chuckles, rather entertained by your rage. “After what you pulled with Kennedy, I think I went easy on you.”

“I didn’t pull anything, I just gave her a better offer! It’s not my fault she has better chances with my company!” you snap back, feeling your heartbeat fastening from the anger that’s boiling in your veins.

“You knew I wanted her to design for me, why couldn’t you just let one person out of your endless list? You already have everyone else, she was my last fucking chance!” Harry barks back, clearly having some built up tension in him as well.

“If you didn’t act like an arrogant asshole at the charity gala, I would have happily let you work with her, but then you felt the need to fucking degrade me! That’s why I didn’t let you get away with it!”

Harry opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes his mouth, probably knowing well you’re right. He did act shitty towards you that evening and he has no excuse for his behavior. You walk closer until there are just a few feet between the two of you, your eyes glued to his burning green gaze that’s staring back at you, but before you could speak up, he cuts you off.

“Well, you know. All is fair in… war and business,” he shrugs and you honestly barely can stop yourself from laughing at how stupid that just sounded. You can’t miss the twitch in the corner of his mouth as well and you can’t believe how easily he made you break out of your rage.

“Don’t try to make money out of writing slogans,” you huff shaking your head and now he is grinning widely. “Do you have the data?”

“I don’t,” he answers and you narrow your eyes at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “I had it, but I already deleted it. I know it wasn’t ethical so as soon as it was handed to me I deleted it. I didn’t even look into it. I just wanted to scare you.”

“And how do I know your hacker doesn’t have it either?”

“Because he signed a contract that would cost him millions to break and I don’t think a junior in college who is still living in a dorm can afford that,” he points out and now you are somewhat convinced. You stare back at him for a few more seconds before nodding.

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, how does that sound?” you offer generously.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he questions with a smug smirk that makes your arch an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” he then asks and you can’t mask your surprise in front of him.

“That does not concern you, Styles,” you scoff, though it boosts your ego that even through all the hate you’ve been targeting at each other, he still wants you the same way he did at the club that evening. You can’t deny, this rivalry has sparked a few thoughts in you as well, but you are not going to fall into the same mistake you made that evening. You pay him another smirk before turning around and heading towards the door. “Stay out of my way, Styles!” you call back without looking at him, but you just know he is grinning at you, a growing sexual tension thickening the atmosphere in the room.

“Or what?” he smugly questions and you stop at the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Or… You said it yourself. All is fair in war and business,” you smirk before walking out of the office.

Following your visit to Harry’s office things take a… playful turn in your rivalry. The attempts and competing don’t stop, both of you are on each other’s radar, ruining and messing with each other’s projects and works whenever and wherever it’s possible, but it’s not as hateful as it was at the beginning. If something, it even helps you to always be on your toes and watch out for possible threats, not just from Harry but from everyone else.

Neither of you succeeds in evolving in each other’s field, Cometa keeps thriving in women’s fashion with a quite small variety offered for the gentlemen while Twisted fails to grow out of men’s fashion and venture to the ladies, but somehow it’s not as frustrating as it used to be before.

Harry keeps up his flirty acts and tries to ask you out every time your paths cross each other, but you relentlessly turn him down every time, only fueling him to keep chasing after you more the next time. It’s a thrilling and flattering little game, knowing that even with all the rivalry between the two of you, being the biggest competitors in the business… he still wants you.

New York fashion week rolls around and it’s by far one of your favorite times in the year. You managed to snatch an exclusive deal with YSL to release a special line just for the fashion week and it sold out in the first two hours, now waiting to be restocked in a few days. Cometa is thriving and your aunt has expressed her pride towards the work you’ve been doing at the company, so things are heading the right direction.

You knew Harry would be attending the same shows as you, but it’s fate or just luck that you are seated next to each other at one of the shows, giving you the chance to talk without any of you attempting to corrupt the other this time.

Harry is already sitting in his seat when you arrive wearing a custom made Gucci dress, something that immediately catches his eyes since he is a huge fan of the brand himself.

“Your fashion sense never disappoints, Y/N,” he beams up at you as you take the seat next to him.

“Hope that’s not surprising, Styles,” You smirk at him, taking a glance at his own Gucci outfit, the checkered pants fitting him perfectly while the pussy bow adds some spice to the whole outfit, you have to admit. He looks good, he always does.

“Any plans after the show?” he asks right before the lights go out and the show starts. You leave him without an answer, just let out a soft chuckle as you glue your eyes to the first model who walks the runway.

Once the show is over you head out with Harry by your side, having an actually entertaining discussion about the designs you just saw. He might not be an expert in fashion, but he has developed a good sense through his years.

As you make your way out of the venue you are stopped by an interviewer and Harry remains on your side as the woman asks you a few questions about the show.

“I’ve always wondered, does it bother you that you couldn’t be on the runway yourself? You’ve been sitting front row the past years, but you once had aspirations of being a model yourself, is that right?”

The question makes you tense up and you can feel Harry’s puzzled look on you from the side.

“It’s not like it was my fault for not making it up there,” you sass back, forcing a smile to your face.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” the woman chuckles and it has your blood boiling, because you know the real meaning behind her words.

It’s your fault you didn’t become a model because you were never thin enough to be one. It was your fault and not the industry’s to hold impossible standards to women who wanted to succeed as a model.

The smile falters from your face and you take a long, judgmental look at the woman in front of you. Because if she is brave enough to talk like that to you, you’re not gonna shy away from bringing her spirits down either.

“Judging from your appearance and attitude you wouldn’t make it either,” you spitefully reply and her smile quickly fades, clearly shocked at your answer. You open your mouth again, ready to continue, but then you feel a hand on the small of your back and you realize Harry is still standing next to you.

“Come on, we have somewhere to be, right?” he smiles kindly as you just simply nod and walk away from the woman before she could offend you again.

Harry senses your tension as the two of you leave the venue but doesn’t try to talk to you and that’s a wise choice from him. As you step out of the building you realize that if you went home now you’d probably get drunk on your own and let that comment get to you more than you should. So instead of doing that you turn to Harry.

“So, what are our plans?” you ask and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he stares back at you.

Not in the mood to stay around people at a bar you accept Harry’s invitation to his place, since it’s also close. The contrast between his extravagant penthouse and your cozy but still quite modern townhouse in Park Slope is major, but you didn’t expect anything less from the man.

You’ve managed to calm down since you left the venue, but you’re still quite bitter about the comment the woman made. Harry hasn’t tried to ask you about it, but you can tell he is dying to know more about the situation that’s behind the madness.

He fixes you a drink and you find yourself sinking into his comfortable and probably ridiculously expensive couch in his living room area.

“I used to want to be a model,” you start, breaking the silence that settled between the two of you. “When I was a teen. I was a lot thinner, I was a competitive dancer until I was seventeen, but I had a knee injury, so I had to quit.”

Harry sits on the other end of the couch, listening to you with patience as he sips on his own drink.

“I was never as thin as the other models at the agency I was trying to get into, but I definitely wasn’t overweight. Yet, they labelled me as a plus size model. I was a healthy, strong young girl with a perfectly good body, yet they told me that I was too fat to be a model.”

Glancing at Harry, you can tell that he is surprised at the information he just learned. He is probably picturing you thinner now, going to model castings and if you’re being honest you enjoyed that part. The trouble came when you got rejection after rejection, telling you to lose weight and come back after that.

“I quit my whole plan to be a model and studied fashion and business instead, consciously working my way towards this point. But I never got over how the industry made me feel less of a person because I wasn’t a size zero.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares at you and it’s actually nice that he doesn’t try to make you feel better right away, praising you how you are perfect just the way you are. Because you’re not, but that’s fine because no one is.

“I’ve honestly never seen a more cruel industry than fashion before,” he then speaks up. “I didn’t grow up in it and still don’t really have that much and deep connection with it, but I know how fucked up it is. And it’s nice to see that you know your worth even after everything that happened.”

Your gaze meets his and you’re looking for any sign that gives away that he is just messing with you, but it’s all genuine. You just shoot him a small smile before lifting your drink to your lips. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him, including the ones you had in that bathroom.

“Okay, now you tell me something about your life,” you prompt, wanting to divert the conversation on him a little bit.

“What do you want to know?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“Why did you name your brand Twisted?” you ask. The question has been on your mind for a while.

“It’s coming from my mum’s name. Anne Twist.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, you weren’t expecting such a deep and personal reason behind the name, connected to a family member.

“Why her?”

“Why not?” he smirks shrugging his shoulders. “She raised me and my sister up, I wouldn’t be here without her. It was obvious I would make her be part of it in some kind of way.”

“That’s actually very nice. Who knew that you could be something other than an egoistic asshole!” you joke, making him laugh as well.

“Okay, what’s the meaning behind your brand?” he then turns it back around.

“Well, my aunt met her husband when they were very young, maybe eighteen. She fell in love with Fabio on her trip to Italy and being the impulsive and adventurous woman that she is, she stayed for a month there just because of Fabio. He is a very passionate man and he was always ready to bring the stars down for Julia. He always used to tell her that he would even catch a comet for her, if that’s what she wanted. And that was my aunt’s favorite saying from him. Cometa is comet in Italian. It’s her tribute to the love of her life.”

“That’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Harry hums and you just smile nodding at him. It really is like a fairytale and it’s also one of the reasons why you were so happy to take her place at Cometa. Julia is still just as in love with Fabio as she was at eighteen and she deserves to spend more time with her beloved husband. She earned the time off after all the sacrifices she made for the company and all through them Fabio stayed by her side. It’s their well-earned happy ending now.

“You know a lot about romantic things?” you cock an eyebrow at him, finishing up your drink.

“Actually, I’m a quite romantic guy.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah, you just never gave me the chance to show it to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?” you chuckle, handing him your glass when he stands from the couch to get you a refill.

“Exactly!” he chuckles holding up your empty glass on his way. “I hope you know you absolutely broke my heart when you didn’t give me your number that night.”

“Oh, you poor little thing,” you chuckle, resting your head in your palm, your elbow on the back of the couch. “I’m not sorry though. You didn’t give out the right vibes.”

“The right vibes?” he huffs as he returns with your drink and now sits a little closer to you. “What vibe did I give you?” “The vibe that told me I shouldn’t mess with you,” you simply answer as you take a sip from your refilled drink.

“You were so keen on hating me even before you knew who I was, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I’m just cautious!” you protest. “I’ve dealt with some problematic men in the past, I can’t let myself walk right into another one that easily.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men just can’t treat women right. Especially confident ones with a body like mine,” you simply shrug.

Men like to think that bigger girls are so terribly insecure about their body that they need the validation of a male to feel good about themselves. But when you’re confident and feel good in your own skin without needing them to praise you, they think that you’re egoistic, so full of yourself and they are quick to try to drag you down. That’s something you can’t tolerate. You don’t need a man to feel good about yourself, you don’t need anyone for that. You know your worth and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s eyes travel down your body, taking his time on your curves and you smile shaking your head as you reach out and cupping his chin you pull his head up so he is looking into your eyes.

“I honestly can’t see what problem anyone could have with your body. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our bathroom fiasco,” he bluntly comments making you chuckle, even flattered by his words.

“You are such a flirt,” you grin at him and he doesn’t try to protest.

You stay for a couple more drinks and you drop the heavier topics, venturing over to music, fashion and any funny stories that come to your mind. Harry is actually amazing company when you’re not trying to jump at each other’s throat and for a few short hours you forget that he is supposed to be your competitor.

You’re a little tipsy, but you are definitely not drunk, so when Harry offers you to stay the night you turn it down, calling yourself a car since you are not in the right state to drive.

“I’ll come and pick my car up in the morning,” you breathe out as you put your heels back on that came off your feet sometime during the evening, making yourself home in his place.

“I’ll text you the security number to the garage,” he nods, walking you to the elevator.

“Thank you. And… I guess thank you for the evening,” you smile at him, turning to face him. He is standing close, but still takes a step closer, one of his hands finding your waist as he pulls you against his chest. Your palms lie flat on his chest as you try to get yourself to the right mindset to leave now before you regret doing something. Leaning down his nose nudges against your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss under below your ear, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I should go, the car is here,” you breathe out, but don’t move.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, his lips peppering kisses on your jaw and your cheek, as if you didn’t say a word. You want to continue it, not just because of the alcohol but because the sexual tension between the two of you has been growing since that charity gala, but the remainder of your rationality stops you before your lips could meet.

“Bye Harry,” you smile at him softly as you push him away and you walk into the elevator, leaving him hanging. Again.

“Bye Y/N. I’m still going to try to ruin your company!” he calls after you as you turn around to face him, the sliding doors slowly closing between the two of you.

“Same back at you, Styles,” you smirk before the door closes and you are taken down.

Well, that was a lie. Following your evening at his place neither of you really tries to work against the other, leaving each other be without any fuss. It might also have something to do with how you kept in touch after that day. You’ve been texting occasionally, attending some events together, even had a business dinner together with a few other peers from the industry. Things have been quiet and you’ve been feeling content with the current state you’ve managed to reach. Or so you thought.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you. You both put your projects aside that targeted the other’s profile. Harry stopped looking for designers for his women lines and you put your men department to the side as well. There were a lot to work on beside these fields so you felt like you were in peace. Right until Leslie bursts into your office on a casual Tuesday.

“Have you seen this?” she asks, placing a tablet in front of you with an Instagram account open on it.

You want to ask what you’re supposed to look at, but then you realize what it really is. A shiny new account for a new brand that promises to take online shopping to the next level; female and male as well.

“You think it could be…?” you ask, not quite convinced that Harry is behind this.

“Well, the wording is similar to theirs and creating a new brand might be a solution to their gap in women’s fashion,” she points it out, though you don’t want to believe he could have been working on this all along, basically in front of your face.

But it’s a possibility and you have to consider this option before jumping into defending him without any proof.

“Men can’t be trusted,” you grumble under your breath before jumping into work.

What you didn’t know is that an eerily similar situation goes down in Harry’s office as well when Zayn bursts in, showing him the ad he found for the new brand called Farfalla.

Harry immediately digs up everything about the company, though there’s not much other than their new Instagram account and heavy marketing that started just yesterday.

“What is Farfalla even?” he grimaces leaning back in his chair.

“It means butterfly in Italian,” Zayn explains and Harry’s eyes flicker up to him.

“Italian? You think it’s her?”

“It’s possible,” Zayn nods. “Starting a new brand to finally reach men’s fashion is a good idea.”

“She wouldn’t have done this,” Harry shakes his head in disbelief. Could you be working on this all along? Was this your plan from the start? To make him fall for you and forget about business while you built up your new empire to ruin him?

“What if she did?” Zayn prompts and in a way his suspicion is valid, but Harry is having a hard time believing it. You would never play him this dirty, not after how the two of you have grown closer in the past weeks, almost became friends.

“What are you going to do?” Zayn asks him as he pushes himself away from the desk and quite obviously starts getting ready to leave.

“She is not getting away from this,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he grabs his coat and phone before storming out of the office.

It’s past six when Harry gets to Cometa’s building and he is informed that you’ve already went home. He could have just come back in the morning, but he knew he would just stew in his own anger if he didn’t talk to you as soon as possible. So using his charm he gets the woman sitting behind the front desk to share your address with him, saying that he needs to talk to you urgently. That’s how he finds himself heading to Park Slope, slightly surprised you are not living somewhere in the heart of Manhattan.

As the scenery around his changes, skyscrapers turning into brick buildings and townhouses, Harry tries to figure out what he even wants to say to you. Should he just get straight down to business and accuse you? Snap at you? Or should he give you the chance to explain yourself? He can’t really make up his mind, mostly because he still feels like you betrayed him even though he can’t be sure Farfalla is yours.

Parking down at the address he got from the woman, he stares up at the deep red brick townhouse, a simple, black door at the top of the stairs that’s lined with a few potted plants and flowers. This is not what he would have imagined your home like, but now that he is standing on your doormat, he realizes it kind of suits you.

Ringing the bell he hopes that you’re home and not out and about somewhere in the city, but when he hears the familiar sound of heels clicking on the floor he knows you are on the other side. When the front door flings open and you come into his sight, for a split second he forgets why he is here and his anger vanishes. As always, you look amazing, a tight, black dress hugging your curves, the middle part appearing like it’s a corset, emphasizing the dip of your waist. Your hair is let down in loose curls and your feet are bare, but he knows you probably wore heels all day. You must have gotten home not long ago and as your eyes fall on the man at the door, your expression hardens on him.

“You really had the balls to come her, huh?” you cock your head to the side, keeping your eyes on his green ones for a moment before you let him inside.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” he huffs walking into the hallway and stopping as you close the door and turn to him.

“Me? I could say the same! You thought I would just ignore it or what? I proved you a few times that I’m not stupid, Harry,” you retort, folding your arms on your chest as you walk past him, into the kitchen and he follows.

“You surely are not stupid, playing me so dirty behind my back!” Harry spats standing his ground. “Playing all friendly and nice and then make a fool out of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you question narrowing your eyes at him as you lean against the kitchen island’s counter. “If anyone played dirty it’s you! And you have the balls to come here and talk like this to me in my own fucking home?!” you snap, walking closer to him, keeping your deathly glare on him.

“What the fuck did I do?!” he scoffs throwing his hands into the air.

“You created a whole new brand just to fuck with me! Or did you think I wouldn’t find out about it?!”

“Me? You made a new brand! And you didn’t do a great job hiding the fact that it was your work, even the name is Italian, like your current one!”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side as you process what he is talking about. All along, the two of you were accusing each other of something neither of you did.

“Harry,” you breathe out, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Farfalla is not my brand.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it?!”

“Well you better be because it’s the fucking truth!”

“Prove it!” he hisses at you, taking a step closer, his face only inches away from yours now.

“Until about twenty seconds ago I thought that it was your new brand, Harry. I thought that you were the one who backstabbed me!” you snap back, standing up for yourself in this giant misunderstanding you fell into, accusing each other without any proof.

Harry stares back at you, his gaze burning into yours as he stands his ground and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes your words.

“So… it’s not yours? You didn’t do it to fuck me up?”

“Of course not!” you breathe out, suddenly quite tired of all the anger that’s been eating you away through the afternoon. “I thought that we had a kind of silent agreement not to mess with each other so I wasn’t planning anything anytime soon. That’s why I got so mad when I thought you did it!”

“I thought the same!” he growls shaking his head. “I thought you did it all to just make me look stupid, that the friendly act was just so I wouldn’t notice a thing and I fell right into your trap.”

“There was no trap,” you simply tell him and you hope he senses the hidden meaning behind your words.

Luckily he does. But for your biggest surprise there’s no snarky comment or smug smirking, he just steps closer and before you could even protest, his hands find your waist and he pulls you against his hard chest, lips hungry attacking yours. He makes you back until you bump against the kitchen island, his hips pressing against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface, his hands wandering on your sides and back, up and down, exploring every curve of your body while his kisses never slow down, your tongues meeting in the middle.

Bringing up a leg you curl it around his hips, your heel digging into his round ass as he leans forward, making you arch your back, leaning onto the counter as his lips move from your lips to your jawline and neck, his fingers digging into your waist and the thigh that’s lifted by his side. He nibbles on the soft skin of your neck, definitely leaving a mark, but you just comb your fingers through his hair, letting yourself get lost in the sensation.

“As much as I would love to fuck you on a counter again, can we take this to a bedroom?” he mumbles as he kisses his way back up to your lips, smirking against them as he captures them again.

You don’t answer, just grab his hand and pull him upstairs with you, right into your bedroom. He is all over you, lips, hands, tongue, pressed up against you as the two of you stumble your way to your king sized bed. Harry’s fingers fidget with the corset on your dress, but he soon realizes it’s a little trickier than he expected, so leaning back he furrows his eyebrows as he glances down at the dress, still trying to figure out how to get you out of it.

“Harry,” you smile at him softly. “It’s faux. There’s a zipper at the back,” you inform him and he sighs in defeat as he kisses you again, his fingers quickly finding the zipper. The dress pools at your feet and you rid him from his jacket and shirt, revealing his inked chest, a sight you’ve been thinking about way too much lately.

By the time the two of you fall to your bed, neither of you are dressed in more than just your underwear. Because both of you like to be in charge, you roll around for a while, trying to get on top of each other but eventually Harry stays up when he starts going down on you, kissing his way through your heated skin. You don’t shy away when his hands snake under your back and easily unclasps your bra, being bare in front of him is not something that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure. The way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel brings you so much confidence, you have absolutely no problem being nude.

When your bra flies to the floor, Harry leans back a little to admire you lying there, before his lips find their way over the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties he tugs them down easily as you lift your hips, your thighs parting as you bare yourself in front of him.

“Don’t be shy about screaming my name,” he smugly tells you before his lips and tongue meet your clit. Your fingers lace through his hair immediately as you gasp out at the sensation, his tongue drawing the whole fucking alphabet to your bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, ring clad fingers digging into your flesh as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Harry! Yes!” you moan out, tugging on his locks when he teases his tongue around your hole, your walls tightening around nothing as you are growing desperate to feel something inside of you.

You pull on his hair, signaling him that you want to get it on with, Hands reaching down to get rid of his boxer briefs before you blindly pull out the drawer of your nightstand, grabbing a condom. His lips eagerly meet yours as he wraps his erected cock and though you would love to have a taste of him like he did with you, you just want to feel him inside you.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls against your lips, teasing you with running just the head up and down your slit.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna rip your guts out,” you warn him, earning a soft chuckle as he kisses you again, tongue pushing into your mouth as he finally pushes inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up perfectly and it somehow feels even better than the first time.

“Go hard,” you gasp, a hand coming to grab his ass as you push him even further into you. He doesn’t need more, he starts slamming into you, his hips meeting yours roughly with each thrust, his whole length disappearing inside you every time.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin. You almost think about telling him not to mark you, but it just turns you on even more so you let him do whatever he wants.

“I want to see you on top,” he pants, lifting his head so his gaze could meet yours. You nod, before the two of you turn around and you straddle his hips, guiding him back inside you as you sink down his length. Your hands are sprawled out on his hard chest as you find your balance in the position, Harry’s eyes roaming your body up and down, not able to get enough of how blissful you look, sitting with his cock buried inside of you, enjoying yourself to the fullest. His hands run up your thighs and upper body until they find your breasts, kneading them as you start moving your hips up and down, back and forth. When you moan his name or gasp because his cock reaches that one particular spot inside you, those are the moments he wishes he could capture on camera and watch whenever he wants.

“I want it from back,” you pant as you lean down and kiss him roughly. That’s all he needs, he helps you get off of him before you get on all four, pushing your butt up in the air while Harry kneels behind you, the sight in front of him hardening his cock even more, if that’s possible. His hands grab onto your waist as he pushes inside you, making you both let out a satisfied moan before he starts moving again.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, Y/N. I love your ass,” he growls, giving it a smack that surprises you, but you absolutely love it.

“Harry, go faster!” you whimper, feeling your orgasm nearing as you grip the comforter on the bed, desperate to reach your climax. You’re just about to reach down between your legs to play with your clit when Harry not only picks his pace up but also reaches around you, two of his fingers starting the circling motions on the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake from the pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he growls, railing you from behind without missing a beat.

“Harry!” you scream when he thrusts into you so harshly, your whole body rocking in the motion.

“Come on, angel. Cum for me,” he murmurs and leaning down he wraps his arms around you, bringing you up straight, your back pressing against his sweaty chest, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he keeps thrusting up into you, pushing you over the edge.

You moan and gasp and scream his name as your walls tighten around his length, riding out your bliss and it helps him reach his own high, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck and shoulder, grunting and cursing under his breath as he fills the condom.

As his thrusts come to a halt, he sinks into a sitting position, bringing you with him, you lean against him feeling like jelly as you’re still just trying to catch your breath. Harry peppers your shoulder with small kisses before you muster the energy to break the position and lie down on the bed.

“Towel is in the bathroom,” you tell him knowing that’s what he’ll look for as he stands from the bed and you point at the door that leads to the joined bathroom. Harry nods and pads his way in there, cleaning himself up before he returns with a small damp towel, doing the same for you. He drops it to the floor next to the bed before joining you, cradling you into his arms as you take a breather together.

One hand is on your shoulder, fingers dancing on the naked skin, the other one is holding your thigh that’s across his lap while your head is resting on his chest.

“You really thought I would backstab you like that?” he hums after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You did the same,” you answer, lifting your head, resting your chin on his chest.

“Touché,” he chuckles, before leaning down he kisses you shortly. “So, if neither of us did it, then we have a quite major problem on our hands.”

“I know,” you hum. “That shit looks promising and they can easily ruin both of us.”

Harry stays silent for a little, but you can see the gears turning in his head. When his gaze snaps back at you, you know he has an idea.

“Unless… we join forces.” Your eyebrows arch as you stare back at him. “I know it’s a risky move, but this is the only way to stay on the top.”

“How much you want to be joined?”

“We could start with just one line, the men part designed by someone from me and the women by someone from you. And if it presents well we can just figure out where to go from there. Obviously, the men part would be sold by us and the women by you, but we could join the pages and direct users to each other’s sites in connection with the lines.”

“That could… actually work,” you nod shortly, thinking about the idea. It needs a lot of planning, but it could actually be a big hit if you do it right. “And you’re willing to partner with me?” you ask cheekily as you push yourself up into a sitting position, Harry doing the same.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m willing to do about anything with you,” he chuckles, making you smile at his playful answer. “I hope you know I’m not talking about just business,” he then adds with a meaningful look.

“You are still so keen on this?” you sigh, tugging your hair behind your ear.

“Do you not like being with me?”

“I do, surprisingly,” you roll your eyes, making him laugh.

“Do you not like having sex with me?”

“I think the answer is pretty obvious to that,” you give him a look as he smirks back at you.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”

“I enjoy having sex with you, Harry,” you roll your eyes again, but he just kisses you short but hard before leaning back.

“So then why shouldn’t we date?”

“Because we are competitors?”

“We just agreed that we should join forces. We are partners now.”

“You are running a little ahead, Harry,” you cock an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, I haven’t been in a relationship in ages. I probably suck at it at this point,” you shrug, but it’s just a lame excuse and you both know that. Leaning closer Harry smirks at you smugly.

“I have something else you can suck.” You smack his chest at his nasty remark, but can’t push a smile back. His hand finds the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. “I want you, Y/N. I really do. You are all I think about even when you are an annoying piece of shit, getting under my skin. I still want you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” you chuckle shaking your head. “What if we can’t get over our differences in the business? That can easily poison any relationship.”

“Then we’ll have a lot of mind-blowing angry and makeup sex. Those are the best. We can put all our frustration into sex, I think that’s just perfect.”

“What are you, a horny teenager? Sex is all you can think about?” you chuckle.

“It is when I’m lying in a bed with you naked. You can’t blame me,” he grins smugly and you want to hate him, you want to hate him so badly, but you can’t. You want him just as much as he wants you.

“So… partners?” he prompts, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he waits for your answer.

“Partners in business and life?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan,” he nods, his smile growing wider with each passing second.

“Alright,” you breathe out. “So… it’s not—All is fair in war and business?” you ask teasingly, using his own words from earlier.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #ceo!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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sergeantbuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

serendipity // bucky barnes

PART ONE

Summary: You end up stuck in 1942 without a way to come back, but when you meet the young and charming version of Bucky Barnes, do you really want to go back to the present?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: lack of ‘40s knowledge

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Thanks to @punxgal for proofreading this. You’re amazing!

divider by @firefly-graphics

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“Are you sure we should be here? You know how Tony is about people in his lab,” Wanda pointed out for like the seventh time but you kept on ignoring her. Maybe you should have listened to her and you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation.

Tony didn’t allow anyone in his lab, he had his reasons, but the majority of it was because he didn’t like it when other people touched his stuff. You had the stupid idea of breaking this rule to go to see what he was working on, and of course, you bring Wanda with you, because if you are going to get in trouble you may as well involve your best friend.

You were a restless person and had the bad habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. It was something most people hated about you, you did nothing to change it, but this time took the cake.

You had messed with one of Tony’s new gadgets, the lights went off, an alarm ringing so loud you had to cover your ears. Then out of nowhere, a gust of wind swirled the room.

Wanda screamed at you asking what was going on, sparks lighting up the darkroom. You could feel what felt like someone pulling you and then your body hit the ground and seconds later Wanda was laying next to you.

Pulling yourself back up onto your feet, you looked around taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in Tony’s lab anymore. You were outside, in a dark alley.

“Did Tony build a teleportation machine?” you asked confused

“Not exactly,” you turned around to see Wanda, she was holding a newspaper in her hands with a frightened look on her face. You take a look at the paper to see what got her so shaken, and you saw it, the date.

“We’re in 1942?”

Was it really possible that you had traveled back in time? Had he really figured it out? You knew Tony was a genius but a time machine it’s too much, even for him.

“What do we do now?” Wanda was looking at you as if she was waiting for you to come with a solution, after all, you were responsible for this situation. If you haven’t sniffed around Tony’s lab you wouldn’t be here right now, you would be back at the compound, safe and eating ice cream while you watch some shitty show on Netflix.

You sighed, “I don’t know”

“They’re going to come for us, right?”

“I guess. The alarms went off in the lab, so they must know that something has happened, it’s just a matter of time until they put two and two together and come to our rescue.” But you didn’t know when that’s gonna happen. “We’ll just have to wait”

“Okay,” Wanda accepted, “What do we do until then?”

You decided the best thing, for now, was to look for a place to stay. You walked out of the alley and into the streets of Brooklyn. As you walked through the crowd you could see the strange looks people were giving you, trying to get out of your way or trying not to walk close to you at all.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” you inquired.

Wanda stopped walking and grabbed your hand, pulling you to a side of the street “I think it’s the clothes” she pointed out.

“What’s wrong with our- “ you stopped your sentence when you took a look at what you were wearing. Jeans, t-shirts, boots, and leather jackets aren't the most go-to look in the ’40s.

You couldn’t walk through the streets like that. It was drawing attention and that’s the last thing you two needed right now. Wanda paused for a moment, you standing next to her, she was doubting if she should do what she had in mind or not, it was a good option, the only option you guys had. Wanda wasn’t a fan of her powers, especially with people often being scared and disgusted by her. Not that she didn’t blame them though. But it hurt you that some people didn’t see farther than her powers. She is not only your best friend, but an amazing person and who only deserves the best.

Wanda sighed. She didn’t have a choice. You looked at her and instantly knew what she wanted to do. It was one of the many reasons The Scarlet Witch was your best friend. There was no need for words to know what the other was thinking, even without her powers, there was a connection between you two.

Only a snap of her fingers and a few seconds later, you looked down to see your clothes. Your twenty-first century outfit had been replaced with a knee-length, A-line dress and a pair of peep-toe heels and your hair was now lying in loose waves. “Wow.” You looked at her with fascination that you’d always held when seeing Wanda use her powers. You didn’t understand why people could be afraid of her when she could do such wonderful things.

It was the next day when you were laying in the bed of the hostel you were staying at and the ceiling had never been more interesting. It had been more than 24 hours and still, you had no news from your friends.

You hadn’t left the room, and you were starting to feel suffocated.

“Let’s get out,” you proposed as you got up from the bed. Wanda tore her gaze from the book she was reading and looked at you like had grown a second head.

“Are you crazy? We can’t just go walking around the city like that!”

“Why not?” you pouted and sat in her bed next to her “What is the harm?”

Your careless demeanor was something that drove Wanda crazy sometimes. You never thought about the consequences your actions could have and you two being stuck more than seventy years in the past was the perfect example of that. And now you wanted to go out and have fun as if this were a normal Friday for you.

The witch sighed and closed the book in her hands. “We’re not home, (Y/N). We cannot go and parade around the city like we belong here.”

“I just want to have some fun!”

“You wanting to have fun is what had brought us here in the first place.” Wanda muttered under her breath, you weren’t supposed to hear it, but you did. You got up abruptly from the bed and made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t reply to her as you left the room, closing the door behind you as you made your way out of the building and into the streets of New York. You knew you were acting childish and you knew Wanda was right but you were too proud to let her know that.

You walked through the streets with no particular destination in mind, you just needed the air hitting on your face. You had walked for at least twenty minutes when you spotted a building that caught your eye. A dance hall.

You crossed the street and made your way into the building. Jazz music flooded your ears as soon as you entered even though the club wasn't that large. It had enough room for various couples to be able to dance and that’s all that seemed to be needed. This scene was so different from what you were used to. It felt different but in a good way. You couldn't help but feel struck by the feeling that you were born in the wrong decade. You’d have loved to live like this.

As your eyes explored the room, you spotted a short man aside from the crowd that you couldn’t help but recognize. You narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of him. Oh my god... He was so much different now, but you would recognize the face of Steve Rogers anywhere.

You turned to leave as soon as you recognised him. Steve couldn’t see you. Yes, he had no idea who you were yet, but he’ll meet you in the future and this could affect all manners of things. What if you do something that changes the past and affects the future and- Now you were panicking, your mind running a mile per hour, trying to get out there when you turned and slammed straight into someone.

“Careful, doll.” That voice, why did it sound so familiar to you? You looked up into the eyes of the man in front of you and there he was. A young Bucky Barnes. With those steel-blue eyes, full of joy and that charming smile that never left his face. This version of him, at least. The Bucky you knew was nothing like the man that currently stood in front of you.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly, and it was then you realized that you had been staring at him for too long.

You looked away quickly, muttering a quick, “Y-Yeah, sorry.”

You tried to walk past him and keep your original plan of leaving the club. If talking to Steve was a bad idea, talking to Bucky wasn’t a better one. As soon as you made to leave, Bucky grabbed your upper arm gently, turning your heels so you were facing him again.

“Come on, doll. You can’t leave me like that,” the smile never left his face and you thought how strange it was to see him smile so much. Nowadays, it was a rarity to see Bucky smile, not that you could blame him for his broody demeanor after everything that he has been through. But now you couldn’t shake how damn beautiful he looked with a smile adorning his features. “You own me at least one dance.”

He held his hand to you, and you knew you should have refused, it was the worst idea and it could affect the future but you weren’t known for making the right choices. So, you took his hand and danced through your second mistake of the night.

It was late when you walked into the room, but Wanda was still up, waiting for you on her bed. She was doing her typical ‘scolding a child’ pose and she could be intimidating when she wanted to.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

You bit your bottom lip, a habit you had when you were nervous. “I fucked up….again”

His hands were on your back with yours wrapped around his shoulders. You swayed to the slow melody the band was playing.

“So… I don’t think I got your name,”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His shameless flirting made you chuckle as you’d heard the stories from Steve about Bucky’s amazing luck with the ladies. But now that you had that same man in front of you, his hand wrapped around your middle and dancing so close to you, you could see why so many women fell for him. He really had a game.

“What about you, Romeo? Can I get your name?”

“Bucky Barnes” he smirked. As you kept dancing to the sound of the music, his eyes never left yours, not for even a second, and you wished in that moment that you had the power to read his mind.

He tightened his hands on your back as he leaned a little to be closer to you. “How is it that I have never seen you around before?”

“I’m just passing by” You simply state, not technically lying to him. You still held hope that your friends were working on a way to bring you home.

“Does that mean I’m not gonna see you again?” His voice sounded disappointed, almost sad.

He brought one of the hands that were resting on your back to your face, caressing your cheek gently. Cupping your jaw, he looked into your eyes, asking for permission. When you didn’t do anything to stop him, he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. His lips were soft as they brushed gently against your own and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed you with so much tenderness. Bucky has only known you for a few hours and his kiss had more meaning than any of the kisses you had received from any of your previous relationships. It was something you didn’t know you craved until now, so you let yourself get lost in the kiss, melting into the third mistake of the night.

“What the hell, (Y/N)!” Wanda raised her voice at you. “Do you have any idea of what you have done?”

“I just- I couldn’t help myself,” you defended yourself, “You should have seen him… I couldn’t tell him no.”

“Since when do you have feelings for Bucky?”

“I don’t!”

“It doesn’t sound like it…. and it definitely doesn’t look like it. You practically light up every time you mention his name!” pointing accusingly at you.

You weren’t lying when you said you don’t have feelings for Bucky. You had barely talked to the man since Steve brought him to the compound. You didn’t know anything about him other than what basic information everyone already knew.

He was quiet and shy, spending most of his time locked in his room. The times he did come out, he only spoke with Steve and Sam. He tried to stay out of the way of everyone, not wanting to be a burden.

“What did you do after the kiss?” Wanda asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“I ran away...”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine

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garbagevanfleet · 4 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: None yet. Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed @satingrass-maidensfair

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans.

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days.

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor.

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down.

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it.

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little.

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages.

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word.

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand.

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived. “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.”

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.”

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming.

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?”

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it.

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked.

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for.

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk.

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.”

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head.

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect.

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again.

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping).

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency.

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to.

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited.

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves.

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on.

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall.

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours.

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it.

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again.

He stood back up, so you did as well.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out.

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos.

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs.

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh.

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?”

“I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them.

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile.

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off.

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?”

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.”

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull.

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?”

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.”

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

#josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #joshxreader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #brightest blue fic

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

#Original Work #original story #my work #Mirrors edge story

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

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Damian tugged down his face mask as he looked out over Gotham city. He was finally here.

After two decades of anticipation, after nearly a decade of work, it should have been a happy occasion.

He tugged the mask back up as he heard a scream nearby.

He stopped three muggings, saved a woman from assault, and stopped a robbery by the time a flicker of purple started following him.

He scared off some men that were following a woman then pretended to take off northward before ducking around a water tower and sneaking up on his pursuer as they tried to follow. He took them in before approaching.

They looked about five foot six. The dark body armor and cloak hid their build some, but the way they carried themself proved they were muscular even if not overly broad. As he grew closer, he could see that the armor was primarily black with dark purple detailing that matched the cloak’s color. They also wore a full face mask like his friend Vesper’s, though theirs had white lenses that stood out against the black fabric instead of being completely black like the older vigilante. They were cautious, yet sure-footed as they raced over the rooftops which showed a familiarity with the territory and an understanding of its dangers.

Similarly, their growing annoyance showed they’d realized they’d lost him so Damian swooped in to pin them against an air conditioning unit. They tried to throw him off, but his larger size and superior skills kept them pinned long enough to bind their hands and tie them to the unit.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” he growled, crossing his arms and looming over them.

They stared at him for a moment, head tilting to the side, then snorted. “No wonder he got mistaken for B a few times. Are you seeing this guy?” the young woman -- judging by her voice -- muttered to herself before saying, “I’m Spoiler and I’m following you because you randomly showed up in Gotham and started playing vigilante. Don’t you know Batman doesn’t like that?”

“And yet, here you are doing the same.”

“Excuse you, I’m Batman’s partner. I earned my place on these rooftops.”

“Right.”

She tilted up her chin and crossed her arms. “I am!”

Damian frowned, but didn’t move to redo the ties she’d slipped. Vesper had told him that his father was a solo hero. Batman worked with the Justice League and the Birds of Prey as necessary, but he’d never had a permanent confidant or taken on an apprentice like some of the other heroes. The closest thing he had to partners were the Batgirls. According to Vesper, though, neither ever developed a close bond with the man. The two might be called in as backup or would team up with his father when their paths crossed, but they never depended on one another. His father was more of an inspiration, patron, and occasional teammate than a partner to either woman.

Spoiler didn’t seem to be lying, however, and appeared too forward to be capable of deceiving him. Had something changed in the four years since he’d talked to Vesper? Perhaps he should have gone with his original plan of waiting to go out until after he’d spoken with her the next day after all.

Hindsight and such were not going to change the present, however.

He looked over the woman again. Girl, he realized. Given her proportions, she was likely in her mid-teens though he could be wrong as the armor was rather concealing. An apprentice, then, which explained why she had not fallen beside her supposed partner. The mission his father perished on must have been deemed too dangerous for her to accompany him.

He carefully thought over his next words. He was not ready to announce his presence yet as clearly he had some research to do and he needed to speak with Vesper. He also didn’t know how trustworthy Spoiler was. Even if she was telling the truth about being his father’s partner, that did not tell him just how far his father’s trust in her went and therefore how far he should trust her in turn.

He stepped back from the girl, dropping his arms and attempting to take on a less antagonistic posture. “Then I am sorry for your loss.”

“Loss?” Spoiler questioned.

“Batman’s death,” he answered slowly. Had no one told her?

“What? Batman’s not dead.”

Oh, no, she was simply trying to hide the truth. “My contacts within the Justice League say otherwise.”

Batman's death had left Flamebird uncharacteristically despondent of late, understandably given how close his father and Damian’s were and the fact Flamebird had been on the mission where Batman perished.

“Someone’s going to get an ass beating,” she muttered, storming to her feet. She poked him in the chest. “So what, you find out Batman’s gone and decide that means you have a free pass to just do whatever you want in my city.”

Damian pushed her hand away, fighting down the urge to stab it. “As I think we’ve established, I had no idea you existed. I simply had business in Gotham and thought I’d do some good for a recently undefended city.”

“Yeah, well, now you know the city is being defended.”

“By a child, yes,” Damian scoffed before he could stop himself and the girl bristled.

“Who the fickle frack are you to judge me?”

After being momentarily stunned by her euphemism, he answered, “I am Ẓill.”

She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “Yeah, no offense, it’s def a me problem, but if I try to say that I will totally beat it to hell and back with a tire iron then set it on fire and spit on it just for good measure. Is that an alien language?”

“Arabic.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, that’s why I’m sticking to the Romance languages for now.” She glanced to the side. “Do you know Arabic?”

“I-” he started, but she waved him quiet.

“I thought you were going to learn after the last run-in with… Okay, yeah, that’s fair. So… Well of course he can, the little polyglot.” She turned back to Damian as he started to wonder if the girl was insane. “So your name translates to Shadow. Mind if I just call you that because, again, I will not be responsible for the atrocity that leaves my mouth if I try to pronounce Arabic without time to practice.”

“Shadow is fine.” She wouldn’t be the first, as it had taken both Flamebird and Beacon awhile to learn how to pronounce his name properly, and the Ismoian still called him that on occasion as a nickname. More accurately she called him Shadow the Hedgehog, but that was a reference he refused to investigate given Flamebird’s reaction to it. “Who are you talking to?”

She gestured to the side of her head. “Augur. He’s our eye-in-the-sky computer guy. Hacking, running comms, information gathering, strategy, all that fun stuff.”

“I thought Oracle worked with Batman when he needed assistance with that.”

“Oracle? I mean, she helped train Augur and helps out when he needs a hand, but she’s got the Birds of Prey and Vesper, not to mention helping out the Justice League sometimes. I think she used to do a lot more for Batman back before Augur, but she’s got her own shit to do now. Augur’s our main man.”

He really should have waited to speak to Vesper. Clearly his information was more out of date than he thought.

“So, Shadow Weaver, what brings you to Gotham then?”

“Shadow Weaver?” He growled when she nodded, radiating amusement. That was clearly another reference he didn’t want to know anything about. “My being here is none of your concern.”

“Random unknown vigilantes being in my city are, like, the definition of my concern,” she said, cocking a hip.

“Your city?”

“Yeah, my city. So either tell me why you’re here or get lost.”

“And if I don’t?”

She shifted into a fighting stance. “I’ll make you.”

Damian snorted at the threat, then was yanked backward by his hood. He brought his hand up to defend, which was knocked aside.

He froze when he recognized the featureless mask staring down at him.

“I told you to keep your head down,” Vesper reprimanded, poking him in the forehead.

“If you had warned me that Batman had picked up a disciple this wouldn’t have happened,” he huffed and Spoiler pretended to gag.

“Ew, gross, don’t call me that. Makes it sound like I worship B or something, which, yeah, no.”

“Stop picking fights with Spoiler,” Vesper said and poked his forehead again. “Batman is already going to be mad enough.”

Damian’s eyes darted away from his friend and, behind Vesper, he saw Spoiler flinch.

Vesper let him back up and shoved him away. She turned to Spoiler. “I’ll deal with him. He’s a friend. Sorry.”

The girl nodded and left.

“Come on.”

The older vigilante led him to the rooftop of a clock tower. She used a biometric scanner to unlock a hidden hatch and they slipped inside, dropping down ropes into a workspace.

There was an elaborate computer setup in one corner, oddly lacking a chair, and a workout space in the other. Mirroring that was a modest medical area in one corner and a kitchenette in the other with seating at the island. Elevator doors stood between the computers and medical area while a couch and some chairs sat at the center of the room.

Pulling off her hood and mask, Cassandra led him to the couch. He removed his own hood and mask then pulled his katana off his back to lean against his leg as he sat next to her on the couch.

“You look good,” she said, glancing over him.

“You too. It’s good to see you again.”

She nodded, then lightly slapped his arm. “What were you thinking, Damian? I know I told you how protective Batman is of his territory.”

Damian’s left hand came up to trace the phoenix engraved onto his right bracer. “When was the last time you spoke to someone in the Justice League?”

She frowned, studying him. “I have been on an Outsiders mission for the past month, and was busy with a show the month before that. If Oracle has worked with them in that time, she hasn’t said anything. Why?”

“A little under a month ago, a JL team went on a mission. I don’t know the full details, but it had something to do with Darkseid and… Batman did not make it back.”

She didn’t react visibly, but her voice was soft when she asked, “You are sure?”

“Jon was on the mission. He said Batman was vaporized right before their eyes. I’m sorry.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. After her moment of silence, she looked up at him, face blank. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why are you here? Why do you care? You’ve always been interested in Batman, but this is… more.”

He sat up straight, hands fisting on his thighs. “I told you my name was Damian Naji, but that was a lie. My name is actually Damian al Ghul. My mother is Talia al Ghul… and my father was Batman.”

She studied him. “Batman… did not know?”

“Not as far as I am aware. Mother told me she told him she miscarried because I would be a distraction to him and the cause. After everything you’ve told me about him, I think she and Grandfather were just worried he’d take me from them. If she told him after I left, I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You could have come to him for help when you ran away from the League.”

“Tt. You know how I was back then. I was everything Father stood against. He wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me. Not until I could prove I was worthy of him.”

She reached out to take his hand. “That’s not true. He knew my past and he accepted me.”

“You killed one person, instantly regretted it, and never killed again. I spent almost ten years as an assassin. It’s not the same. Besides, you were just an occasional teammate. I’m…”

“His son. Which is exactly why I know he would have loved you. Batman cares deeply for those who he considers his own. Even Oracle and I. He keeps -” She frowned and looked down. “He kept his distance from us, but only because he felt he didn’t have a right to us. Oracle had a parent and was independent, only needing help getting her feet under her. I was an adult, legally, when we met and Oracle took on my training since she was the one who found me and had practice working with younger heroes due to assisting Black Canary with the Justice League’s minor division. Had he found you, though, he wouldn’t have hesitated. You would have been his.

“He would not have been happy about how you were raised, but he still would have loved you. He would not have turned you away, even if you had wanted to continue down the path of an assassin. He would have seen that wasn’t what you wanted, though, and taught you a new way. You would not have had to do it on your own.”

Damian shook his head. “No, I had to prove that I wasn’t what my mother made me. I had to prove I could follow his rules, only then could I present myself as his heir.”

“You wouldn’t have had to prove anything to him.”

He pulled his hand away to trail it against his bracer again. “Perhaps you are right. You knew him better than I. But I did have to prove it to myself.”

She shook her head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders despite him being a head taller and twice as wide. “How?”

“My first kill was on my sixth birthday. I was fifteen when we met and I decided to leave behind the League’s ways in favor of Father’s. It… took me longer than I liked to push through the instincts to kill so on my sixteenth birthday I made an oath. Ten years of saving lives to atone for ten years of taking them. Only if I reached my twenty-sixth birthday without taking another life would I come to Gotham.”

“That is why you’ve come.”

“No, my birthday is still a few months away, but… Jon told me what happened. I realized I was too late so I am here to… I thought if I could never present myself to Father absolved of guilt, I could at least protect the city he devoted himself to since I believed it was now undefended.”

“You did not know about the others,” she chuckled.

“You told me he worked alone,” he growled.

“He did when we last spoke.” She pulled away, tilting her head. “Am I your only source for information?”

“Yes. I did not know if I could trust any other source given his reclusiveness.”

“But I only told you about Batman. What about behind the man under the cowl?”

He slumped back against the couch.

“You do not know who he is,” she said, amusement in her voice.

“Mother always told me I would learn who he was when I’d earned it. The only things I know are that I am his only family and heir. That’s why I asked you to meet me. I wanted to do this properly and cover his responsibilities in and out of the mask, but I can’t do that without knowing who he is. I’d hoped that either you would know or you could help me figure it out.”

She hummed and glanced to the side.

He followed her gaze to see a clock on the wall. It was nearing two in the morning.

Suddenly she hopped to her feet and dragged him up. “You said you are staying at Hotel Belle Monico?”

“Yes, room 3215.”

“Go straight back there and get changed.”

He nodded, figuring she wanted to get some rest. “Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

After getting her confirmation, he climbed up the ropes and did as told. It only took him fifteen minutes to get back to his room and another twenty to change out of his vigilante attire, lock all his gear away, shower, and put on his sleeping clothes. Once that was done he started to debate whether or not to get some sleep or do a bit of research first.

A knock came at his door.

He grabbed the small dagger he kept on him at all times and palmed one of the knives he’d hidden around the room as he approached the door. He peeked through the peephole, then tucked both weapons into his waistband and opened the door.

Cassandra had lost her own suit in favor of a casual teal dress and gold-brown leggings. She frowned as she took him in and started shoving him further into the room before he could say anything. “Get dressed.”

“What’s going on?”

“Clothes.”

Well aware he wasn’t going to get anything out of her, he slipped into the suite's bedroom and changed into some slacks and a polo.

“Good,” she said when he came out, then turned on her heel and left.

He quickly followed after grabbing his wallet and one of the room’s keycards.

“Where are we going?” he asked once they were in the elevator, but she just smiled at him.

The silence continued as they climbed into her car and she drove them through the city. He tried to ask again when they crossed a bridge out of the main city and into a neighborhood filled with mansions and old manors, but she remained tight-lipped until they pulled up to the gate of a larger manor.

She rolled down the window and hit the call button, which was soon answered over the video screen by an older gentleman in a butler’s uniform.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Cain,” the man said in a warm, British accent. “I was told you might make an appearance, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Hello, Alfred. Should this wait?”

“No, you might as well come in now. They’re all still awake after tonight’s events,” he sighed and the gates began to creak open.

“Sorry,” she said and he waved her off before the screen went dark.

Curiosity itched at Damian, but he stayed quiet as Cassandra drove up to the front door and they climbed out.

Alfred met them at the door. He gave Cassandra a kind smile then turned it to Damian. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Cain. And who is this?”

She looped her arm around one of Damian’s. “An old friend. Alfred, this is Damian Wayne. Damian, this is Alfred Pennyworth.”

He didn’t react to the name, assuming she’d just given him an alias, but the calculating expression on Alfred’s face as he stared at Damian’s had him second-guessing the assumption.

The expression was quickly replaced by a sad smile, however, as the man stepped back to allow them into the manor. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Master Damian.”

“You as well, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Just Alfred, my boy. Please come in. The others are winding down in the family room.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Cassandra said, then led Damian into the house by his arm. They went up the main staircase in the entrance hall and into the first door on the left where they found a room inhabited by a group of children.

The oldest were a pair of teenagers sitting on the couch.

The girl was white, but tanned with long blonde hair pulled into a messy braid and dark green eyes. She was thin but muscular and he could see her arms were covered in small scars thanks to her Gotham Sirens tank top. She was cradling a sleeping infant who was wrapped in a Wonder Woman blanket and clutching a stuffed Batman.

The other teen was more androgynous, body hidden under an overly large White Arrow hoodie and Supergirl sweat pants. They were Latine with their skin a pale brown and their eyes a silvery blue. Their hair was black and chin-length. They had a video game controller on their lap and a tablet in their hands.

The next oldest was a preteen boy with a book sitting sideways in an armchair, back against one arm and legs draped over the other. He was fair with freckles speckling his face around his navy eyes. His hair was short and a dark red, almost black color. He was thin and muscular like the girl, but there was a touch of broadness to his shoulders that spoke of a bulkiness to come with puberty. A German Shepherd was squeezed onto the chair with him, half-tucked under the boy's legs with his head on the boy's stomach for pets.

The last child was a few years younger than the preteen. He both had the most conditioned and the least combative build of the children, having more of a gymnast's figure. His skin was of a similar olive tone to Damian’s, though a few shades lighter, and his curly hair was brown-black. Damian couldn’t see his eyes as he was dozing on a rug in front of the tv with a three-legged pitbull puppy, both curled around a large stuffed elephant. A video game controller was abandoned behind the boy.

The three awake children turned to Damian and Cassandra when they entered. They all greeted her warmly, but the girl and boy eyed him warily while the androgynous teen studied him with sharp curiosity.

“Who’s your friend, Cassie?” the boy asked.

Cassandra shoved Damian further into the room. “Your brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So last month I made a post asking if anyone had written a story where the Robins' ages were reversed as is the trope, but they still got taken in by Bruce in the same order as well as giving some ideas for how that could work. No one ever got back to me on if that was already a thing so I figured I might as well write out one of the scenes that really caught my interest when brainstorming.

#batfam #damian wayne #cass cain #stephanie brown #batman #rabno #fanfiction

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

Text

Blackberry Delivery Service

Summary: Where soulmates get plants that reflect what is done to each of them at unpredictable time of their lives, schools teach it’s about maturity. Virgil has known this is wrong since he got his plant at the young age of 8.

Remus never learns this before the night everything goes wrong gets followed by a day out of Roman’s daydreams.

/\/\

Nobody had figured out yet how the delivery service worked. There were classes in schools covering the history of soulmates and the plants connected to them which could go over how when people roamed the lands or lived in small villages and tribes they'd be drawn to the plants when they were ready for it. That still happened in a lot of the indigenous cultures, where spending time among nature was a larger part of their way of life.

For the people in cities though a delivery service had opened with the advent of a postal service. When a person became ready to care for their plant it would be delivered at a time they were alone at home and then the van would disappear for somewhere else. No base was known of for the Soulmate plants delivery, nor any greenhouses and plenty of legends surrounded the vans but nothing could get confirmed.

Virgil had read everything he could about them regardless. Originally it was dreaming that he'd get his plant one day and learn how he can find his soulmate with it. Receiving it when he was just 8 years old had grown the interest into the reasons people claimed they got their plants.

What schools taught was that if you are mature enough to care for someone, or something, living other than yourself and put their needs on the same level as your own then the plant would be delivered. The forums and multitudes of orphanages and care homes gave out different lessons, leaflets filled with personal stories about people getting their plant so they had something to look forward to, a reassurance there was somebody out their for them.

That was why Virgil received his plant. His parents had busy jobs and rarely spared a thought for their son, so long as he was fed, clean and his clothes were the good quality expected of reasonably wealthy parents. He'd gotten lonely and used to being ignored, or a second thought to everyone but the blackberry bust he received was a promise that wouldn't continue forever.

And that was how he continued on, looking after the plant and trying its best to help it grow. The thorns were longer than a normal blackberry bush and grew in a higher number but the berries were a wonderful balanced of sweet and tangy. It was soon Virgil's favourite treat, as long as the berries came from his soulmate plant. If only he could tell his soulmate was looking after theirs as well, but nothing changed except what Virgil did to the plant.

/Years Later for Remus\

It had taken far too long for Remus to save up the money for his own flat. Still, 10 times fired is 20 people he knows can't accept who he is, and he could finally move out from Roman's apartment.

He'd thought there could be a celebration, him and his brother having a game night or something to mark the achievement. Sure Remus would have liked to do more than that, go to a bar, or maybe bowling and see how many innuendos and dirty jokes he could make around it, but with Roman back in rehearsals a night in, getting him settled into the flat would have been nice.

Instead they argued, Remus hurt over the dismissal Roman gave. “I can't just fritter away hours with you. This could be a big break for me if it gets the presses attention so I have to be responsible for my time.”

“It's one night, Ro. One night to get that stick out of your arse, loosen up and just be silly again. Fuck, we could find an adventure on a hike and play dragons and princes again like we used to. Toast the fact I'm making it on my own now.” Remus had pleaded, just needing something to mark the change.

“Yeah and then in a month, possibly two, you'll be asking for an adventure or night out to celebrate you moving straight back in.” Roman scoffed, dismissing the idea and Remus's long standing dream of independence in one sentence.

Remus had slammed the door to his flat open then. He'd made the offer when they finished moving all his stuff over to the apartment and there was something darkly satisfying that he could now actually kick Roman out now. “Fuck you, Get the hell out of here! You've watched how fucking hard I've worked to get this and now you think I'm going to throw it all away for what?” He made no attempt to keep his voice down, too hurt and angry to care.

“Yeah, cause you're so mature. You haven't even received a plant to look after yet.” Roman had started to protest but as soon as Remus's missing plant was mentioned he was getting manhandled out of the door.

“I'm blocking you everywhere. I fucking trusted you!” Remus screamed, throwing cushions from the sofa at the door as soon as he'd slammed it shut, locking it behind Roman.

Remus had tried. He'd done everything he could think of to be mature enough to get that soulmate plant, but it still hadn't been delivered. Every day he hoped that perhaps finally it would come; that whatever spirits created and delivered the plants would finally realise he was ready for the soulmate plant.

He'd even kept a garden on the balcony at Roman's house. That was Remus's space and he'd kept it alive, thriving even. Every plant he'd had there had now found a place on window sills around the apartment, as specified to their requirements as Remus could manage.

For Roman to have thrown his missing soulmate plant back at him was too far, and his brother should have known that. It had turned the first night in his apartment which Remus had been so excited to finally afford from being a celebration to one of near destruction.

Remus had agreed with fix and redecorate the apartment for a reduced rent so he decided to move the screaming in his brain to chipping the cracked tiling away from the walls of the bathroom. The landlord had offered it when learning he was a joiner after his most recent building course. With every strike he wished it was a stem he could yank away from Roman's lavender bush, make him realise just how it felt to be missing something everyone insisted was important.

Mud, plants and carpentry could only get Remus so far until he was collapsing onto his new bed, and the tears came.

A new home, but an even lonelier life than before now he couldn't face the last person to try and stick with him again.

/A New Day Comes\

Remus thought the knock on his door must be Roman, trying to apologise or just explain himself. There were always more explanations from Roman than spoken apologies. The apology was shown in his behaviour and the time he cut himself off.

He definitely didn't expect the knock to be a blackberry bush and a van driving out of sight.

An apartment with no balcony or attached garden was probably the worst possible place Remus could try to grow blackberries, but he didn't have much choice, not over what his soulmate plant was, or where it could grow. There was at least a large window in his bedroom that he could find space for it in.

Remus gave it a small smile as he carried it through, leaving it at the foot of his bed for a moment. “Well I guess you were finally ready to come to me then. You just wait here while I shift some of your new friends around to give you a nice spot to rest in.” He says, stroking the leaves lightly before turning away.

“This isn't the ideal space for you, I know, but it's what I have and what's mine is yours, Buddy. Well for you and all my other plant friends of course. I don't care if your connected to my soulmate, these guys get all my love just as much as you do.” Remus was rambling, still mostly talking to the blackberry bush but nuzzling into the other plants he had as they were moved, some closer together and a couple taken to one of the other windowsills.

“I'm no more mature than I was yesterday so it seems like the teachers were just saying more bullshit to us all. Wonder why you're actually here though. Unless it's because I'm completely alone in the world now, and this is all just a complete scam. What makes me being completely alone the trigger when Roman got his years ago after a night moping that he's never be someone's hero?” They'd still been living with their parents when that happened, but now Remus was focused on being lied to by schools.

He shook his head, moving the bush to the new spot. “Maybe I should have tried mixing those chemicals in science labs given everything else they've lied over. I bet it wouldn't have caused anything fun to happen anyway. Now Buddy, you need a frame or some support to hook onto and then I want to start checking online if there are any people around caring for blackberry bushes. If my soulmate already has you then I'm gonna be telling them off for not caring for you properly. Lack of gardening knowledge does not mean you're unable to research a singular plant.”

Remus fell to humming as he started rooting through the boxes that hadn't yet been unpacked for his gardening supplies. He'd need to trim the bush a bit and get it tied onto a frame. There was plenty of time before he had work to get that done.

/Over to Virgil\

After growing up with his blackberry bush, Virgil never expected anything to change with it. He wasn't sure if that was because his soulmate was content to let him look after it or if they just hadn't received their plant yet.

This morning was proving they probably hadn't received it until now and were very knowledgable about how to look after their plants. Virgil had watched as the canes were cut, thorns trimmed away in the busier areas of the bush and then as a frame appeared in the pot, stalks being tied to it from the bottom upwards.

It had been a relaxing if confusing scene to watch but Virgil hadn't wanted to look away. There was evidence he had a soulmate and apparently one who's a very avid gardener.

Part of him wanted to cheer, to dance around his home screaming for joy. He had a soulmate out there, and now their plants were more identifiable than the wild growth that was all Virgil understood enough to achieve. There was a chance he could one day find someone who wouldn't just be talking to him for his family name, or in the hopes of getting a higher role in his mother's business.

It just made Virgil want to go out and start actually trying to find whomever they were, but what if they were annoyed that he hadn't taken better care of their plant? What if they had their life all put together and only cared about the plant because soulmates were meant to be important to them and he'd just disappoint them?

There were hundreds of what if questions that Virgil was now coming up with, stilling his hands as he went to search the 'match my plant' websites there were.

Instead he just double checked his Blackberry bush was watered enough and drew a V in the soil, washing his hands before finally heading into the restaurant his parents wanted checking on today. They'd decided Virgil should have a role as site inspector for the restaurants while they were refurbished or put together for a new site opening at some point and Virgil didn't mind the role. It gave him the chance to meet normal people in the builders, electricians and other skilled jobs as well as avoid special treatment from the restaurants staff since most of the time they'd never meet him officially.

Today the site was having fitted counters installed as well as the tables secured for the private booths. Virgil would really just be checking everything looked right and hoping to avoid chatting to the joiner for too long.

“Hey there, Are you the boss man for the site?” There was a man in fluorescent overalls trying to peer through the windows of the restaurant, knocking on them as Virgil walked up to it.

Most of the builders had been given the morning off so they didn't get in the way but the actions of the man had Virgil checking the time and realising he'd set off late after watching his plant get looked after. “Yep, that's me. Sorry I ran a little late. It seems like my soulmate has gotten their plant and was doing a lot of gardening for it this morning. I got distracted watching it.” The explanation was far more than the joiner needed to know, but it felt deserved given Virgil was late.

“Cool thing, Patches. I got mine this morning too. Must be a busy day for the delivery guys. You planning on letting us in or should I break a window and replace it on my way out?” The man had walked back to the van that was parked on the pavement in front of the restaurant as he spoke, but leaned back to wink at Virgil when he suggested the vandalism.

Virgil shook his head, snorting a little at the idea. It didn't seem serious so he wasn't going to treat it as such. “First, I'm gonna need to see some ID, preferably your traders license. Can't just trust people who ask if I run the building without introducing themselves at all.” He did pull the keys out of his pocket though, waiting beside the door as the other bounced back over.

“Well, I'm Remus, here's my card, call me whenever for whatever cause a body like yours I ain't gonna refuse.” Remus definitely checked Virgil out as he spoke but still handed over his license, a business card behind it that Virgil pocketed.

Unlocking the door, he shook his head again. “I'm Virgil and will need to call the company doing the rest of this place to complain about the state they've left it in. Sorry it seems to be chaos. I did order them to leave it clear yesterday but apparently my instructions were ignored.”

Remus didn't seem to care, already carrying various boards and his toolkit, just making large steps over any equipment or items left in his way. “I got a blackberry bush this morning. You said you thought your soulmate had got theirs today too so what's yours?”

“Oh, yeah, same. It's blackberries too. I've been scared that I'll hurt it if I do anything though so have mostly left it to grow its own way once I got a mini greenhouse to look after it in.” Virgil agreed, pulling his phone out, and falling into mumbles over how to make the call.

It was only moments later when Virgil looked up to actually double check the number, ever doubting his phone had saved it correctly, that he realised Remus had frozen and started watching him, large siding board still balanced on his shoulder. “Did I say something wrong? Is there something I need to raise as a big issue to like health and safety that I've missed?” He asked.

Remus bounced between his feet for a moment, almost falling before he remembered the siding and leant it against the wall. “No Dude, but like, does your plant look something like this now?” He pulled his phone out while speaking, flicking through a few screens before showing a picture of Virgil's blackberry bush, except it was surrounded by dozens of other plants on a windowsill that was in dire need of fresh paint and probably new frames all together.

“That's – That is my plant! Even down to the frame that appeared!” Virgil exclaimed, almost snatching the phone away to look closer at the picture. “I watched everything getting trimmed and tied onto the frame this morning.” He muttered, all thoughts of scolding the builders leaving his mind in the moment.

“So you're my soulmate then?” Remus asked after a minute of waiting for that connection to be made.

Virgil didn't think his eyes could get any wider or that he could be any more shocked than he already was, but that sentence would have managed it. “Well, must be, this is my plant so yeah.” He nodded frantically through the explanation.

He was a bit confused when Remus's expression darkened to a scowl. “This entire soulmate thing is fucked up. Nothing against you but is this stupid damnable universe telling me I had to go through losing or falling out with everyone I know only to get my plant and meet my soulmate on the same fucking day? It's ridiculous and stupid. If it wanted to pull this fairytale bullshit with anyone it should have been with Roman. This feels like he's fucking writing the story of my day just to spite me after throwing everything I've been trying to do back in my face yesterday.” The rant had Virgil backing away a little, sitting down on one of the benches as Remus carried on.

“I did every fucking thing I could to be whatever stupid ideal of mature this world wants before letting people have their plants for years! I scraped through course after course, job after job just trying to find one which I could make a career out of, earn enough to get even a ratty apartment I need to fix up for the landlord and then have the universe fucking telling me to speed run the entire process. Not just, hey Remus, you can finally have the soulmate plant to look after since you've been looking after your hundred plant babies so well, but hey Remus, you brother is a fucking bastard so you're all alone but here's a plant and hey, here's your entire fucking soulmate too.” Remus was screaming at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere that wasn't Virgil, looking like he was two steps from destroying the next thing he looked at closer to ground level.

Virgil usually felt panicked by watching displays of anger like this in real people. He'd usually do everything he can to get out of that situation but instead he just listened and waited, learning more from the rant than he'd expected to.

The yelling must have been audible from outside or something because there was soon a knock on the window of the restaurant, although Remus didn't seem to hear it. He did notice when Virgil stood though, falling quiet to watch him as though expecting him to say something.

With a gesture to the door Virgil went to open it, only to blink as someone almost identical to Remus stood on the opposite side, holding what he guessed might have been a peppermint plant. “Hi, um, sorry if I can't do this, but Remus hasn't been answering my calls and had mentioned doing some work here today. Is he still around?” The man asked, shifting to try and see further into the store.

“Who are you, first? And what's with the plant?” Virgil held a hand up to keep them outside, raising an eyebrow at their discomfort.

“His brother, Roman. I said something I really shouldn't have and have come to beg for forgiveness. The plant is part of my apology.” With that explanation, especially following the rant he'd just heard Virgil held one finger up before shutting the door in his face.

Remus seemed to have started getting his work tools out now his rant had been cut off when Virgil sat down again. “So that was some rant you had there and given I've had my blackberry bush since I was 8, I might be able to explain what actually seems to be the time the plants come to us. Before that though, are you going to start screaming again if I say there's someone at the door holding a plant and asking if you're here so they can beg for forgiveness?” He explained, watching as Remus turned to him and then deflated.

“He literally said I wouldn't last more than a couple months in my new apartment before having to live with him again, threw the fact I hadn't got my plant yet in my face last night and is now trying to apologise with a fucking plant?” Remus muttered, but sighed as he stood up.

Roman was let in silently and he seemed to watch Remus as if expecting something to be said first. Remus was watching his brother just as carefully, before glancing over to Virgil.

“Seriously. Are we sure the universe hasn't stolen one of Roman's stories and decided to dump me into it?” He asked, taking the peppermint from Roman and placing it in front of the window.

“I have literally known Roman for all of 2 seconds so have no clue what those stories might be like to say.” Virgil pointed out, knowing his expression was probably reflecting how crazy he found the question to be.

Remus rolled his eye, “I see no prostrating yourself on the floor to beg for forgiveness. This apology so far sucks worse than Mrs PeePee's apple sorbet.” He glanced over to Roman who was looking between them confused.

“Yes, of course dear Brother, except there isn't exactly space on the floor for that to be possible. I spoke entirely out of turn yesterday and should have never even considered speaking to you the way I have done. You have my deepest apologies and I swear that I will do everything I can to help make it up to you. In fact I would be honoured if tonight you'd accompany to the indoor mini golf course that's opening on the edge of town. It's rainforest themed and I hear rumours they've included a swamp area.” Roman bowed as he was speaking, actually glancing around to see if it was safe for him to kneel.

Virgil couldn't help snickering at it though, and Remus was soon to join in the laughter. “Let's all go actually. I need to know if this idiot is entertaining beyond cheap jokes and loud rants to tell the universe off.” Virgil agreed, before glancing at the sideboard and the time. There was still a couple of hours before the rest of the builders should arrive, hopefully enough time for Remus to do some of the work he was actually here for.

“Sure, you're forgiven and I think the universe has done pretty much everything I would have asked you to do or try to do already.” Remus agreed, jumping over a few things back to where he would be fitting the counters. “By the way, this is my soulmate and I got a blackberry bush this morning. Only figured that it was the same as his like 10 minutes before you got here.”

“Was that what the screaming was about? I thought someone was injured?” Roman asked, moving to the bench when Virgil shrugged and patted it.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, Remus has a few things to say to whatever does soulmates about how today has gone for him. Not sure the universe listens to people screaming in restaurants-to-be though.”

Eventually Virgil would get Roman to share one of the stories Remus had kept referencing and had to agree: The day they met really did seem to come out of Roman's imagination.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #virgil sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #roman sanders

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popatochisssp · 4 years

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Heya Poppy! I’m loving the new gem headcanons and was wondering if you have a diamond au too? Or any other stuff about the new gems? I love this au so much

Ohoho, of course I do! I do have the new gems’ Backstories, but since you asked about the Diamond AU specifically... UwU

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

Cubic Zirconia (Undergloom Sans) emerges alone, in an abandoned Kindergarten galaxies upon galaxies away from Homeworld’s (known) reaches. He doesn’t stay alone for very long, and not too much later, Moissanite (Undergloom Papyrus) emerges too--another gem.

...Not that they...know too much beyond the fact that they’re both gems. They certainly have no idea that they’re both products of diamond replication experiments at this outpost, commissioned by the (recently ceased) Void Diamond and forgotten when The War began and other priorities became more important.

But! They have each other, so even if their origin is shrouded in mystery and there’s nobody else here on this dusty, deserted rock of a planet, they both decide things could be worse.

They go about their lives for awhile, poking around in things, bonding with each other, making guesses about their species and civilization from their bare-bones programming and the artifacts of the Kindergarten.

It passes the time.

And then, one day, the seismic activity starts.

The two of them have no idea what’s happening or what to do about it; if there’s anything to do about it, and it’s a stressful few cycles before they get any solid answers.

Raw Diamond (Horrorfell Sans), clawing himself up through the ground from the deepest, darkest caverns of the planet, is about as ‘solid’ as an answer gets.

Cubic and Moissanite shouldn’t know the newcomer at all, yet they find themselves automatically saluting, calling him ‘My Diamond,’ and Raw...

Raw is just as confused as they are.

He doesn’t know what’s going on either, where they are, what he is, who he is… he simply is.

He couldn’t know that he’s a forgotten project of Void Diamond’s, too, a new diamond meant to join the ranks with him and Brown and Gray as their empire expanded and needed more leadership. He was simply left in the ground to incubate without being refined or even cut.

(He's monstrous, huge even for a Diamond, and oddly formed with a crooked jaw that won’t open and a hole in his skull…but Cubic and Moissanite hardly know any better than he does what he’s supposed to look like, so no one makes any mention of it.)

Freshly emerged and very lost, it goes without saying that Raw wants answers. The Imitation brothers have a few, but nowhere near as many as he’s after, and he stubbornly demands to be shown around the Kindergarten and the outpost, to see it for himself.

And it all lights up for him in a way it never did for the two that came first, doors and sensors and screens coming to life, responding to the signature of a true diamond. There’s brand new access to everything, reports, records, files and procedures… they learn a lot about what they are, what they’re supposed to be and what they’re not.

They also learn how true diamonds are made, in full and not just halfway.

Raw is certain this is the answer. Cubic and Moissanite are the first of their kind, they barely have any programming, but a diamond…a diamond done right and not left unfinished like he was, surely they would know more and be able to make sense of…whatever it is they’re not getting.

The brothers aren’t totally convinced... but admittedly, they don’t have any better ideas and well…rough he may be, but Raw is a diamond…

Champagne Diamond (Horrorfell Papyrus) unfolds himself gracefully from a craggy cliffside on the abandoned planet, massive in size but otherwise perfect—and he does have some answers.

Champagne knows he is a Diamond and he knows of gemkind. He knows of their society and of their directive to expand their empire.

…What he doesn’t know is the answer to Cubic’s well-meaning query of ‘...what empire?’

Champagne has no clue where the hell all the other gems are, where this little rock is in relation to the Empire, if the Empire even still exists if this place has been abandoned as long as all the charts and data logs say it has been.

He wants answers as much as Raw does, possibly even moreso…but to even start looking for them, they have to get the hell off this planet.

As it turns out, what he lacks in inherent knowledge of their status and origin and social structures, Raw has a real knack for gem-tech, understanding the principles and functions of even the old and mostly broken down devices they have access to, enough to design a passable space-faring craft that they all pitch in to build.

The first world the quartet comes across is empty now, but was once uniquely occupied by both gems and by organics. There’s a handful of gem structures, Kindergartens, bases, et cetera--long abandoned and in disarray of course, but hiding lots of new data and potential clues to mine about what happened to gemkind, and more importantly, where the fuck Homeworld is...

(Like the lost city of Punt, it seems that nobody ever thought to store something as obvious as Homeworld’s coordinates anywhere in the days before warp pads--why bother? Everyone knew where it was.)

There’s a lot to repair and sift through, a whole planet’s worth of it, and there’s only four of them, so it’s probably going to take awhile…

So when Raw finds some old notes that this planet would be a good candidate to incubate a diamond if not for all the useful organic life on it, he nudges Champagne and jokes that all the organic life is gone now, maybe they should…?

To Raw’s surprise, however, Champagne is intrigued.

It could be something worth thinking about, actually… Another pair of hands, another set of eye-sockets… a diamond would be a costly investment, both time and resource-wise, but certainly more bang for the buck than a mess of soldiers or technicians that they really don’t need…

Plus, it’s something to do while they scour the whole damn globe for everything of use on it.

So... might as well try it.

A nice chunk of forest is summarily leveled by Cloudy Diamond (Horrorswapfell Sans) when he decides he’s good and ready to emerge—and while he’s certainly an extra pair of hands for the group, the eye-sockets…didn’t really work out the way they’d thought.

Cloudy, it turns out, is blind as a bat, a defective diamond—but still a diamond, able to interface with and access everything the other two diamonds can, if guided to it.

He sticks with Cubic and Moissanite, mostly, a quid pro quo sort of arrangement that works for everyone, at least until everything of use and worth is mined out of the artifacts of the planet, and it’s time to move on to the next lead: what seems to have been a military base on an almost entirely aquatic world.

Cloudy isn’t interested in visiting a water-world, not for a long-term stay like they’re talking about. He prefers solid ground beneath his feet at least most of the time...and he actually has very little investment in their Quest for Homeworld, so he decides that he’ll stay here.

The others question if he’s sure, and even offer to leave at least Moissanite with him to help him around, but he refuses. Aside from not feeling altogether right about splitting Moissanite and Cubic, Cloudy has his pride and he’ll manage just fine. He is a diamond, after all!

And so off the others go to the military installation.

Raw has a great time digging around in all the decaying ships and weaponry, Cubic and Moissanite explore the things left behind by the gems that were once upon a time stationed there, and Champagne researches.

Cloudy’s defect...weighs on him, though...

(Possibly because they kind of…created the poor guy, imperfect, and then left him there, which sucks… but Champagne is a diamond and doesn’t have half the emotional intelligence to realize the injustice of that is what’s bugging him.)

He somehow decides that it’s the defect itself that’s bothering him, that he failed to create a 100% functional diamond. But he didn’t fail, he could do it, if he tried again…which he’s not going to do, just to prove a point, to himself even and not anybody else!

………

That’s exactly what he does.

Pink Diamond (Horrorswap Sans) rises from the sea one day, kicking up a tsunami in his wake, much to the surprise of the others who were definitely not kept in the loop on this matter.

Champagne, for his part, is unapologetic and unashamed: Pink is a total success, strong and complete and perfectly formed (aside from, perhaps, the occasional, very minor glitching of his physical body... but that can surely be put down to all that water he was incubated beneath, smoothing his intended rose-cut over time into something more like a cabochon. That’s nothing to do with him...)

Pink, for his part, is happy to help and join the search for answers.

He dives right into it all without complaint…until…

Well...

Seeing Cubic and Moissanite, and Raw and Champagne…they get along so well, and his recent arrival hasn’t opened up any space for him in their dynamics.

He’s very pointedly the odd man out, and it’s enough to make a diamond quite lonely, quite aware that he’s the only gem here without a brother to call his own.

………

Taking a page from Champagne’s book, telling absolutely no one, Pink sets out to squeeze one more diamond out of this big ball of water, even though the planet’s resources are low after his emergence.

It’s not long before Olive Diamond (Horrorswap Papyrus) is slogging out of a dark, wet swamp, assisted by his brother—which is appreciated, because he seems to have a hard time keeping his legs to retain the ‘hard’ part of ‘hard light projection.’ Sometimes they’re solid light and sometimes they’re only light and maybe that’s what happens when you try to make a gem from a planet that’s running on empty...

Pink is delighted by his new sibling all the same!

Even so, a rule is made amongst the gems after that and agreed to by all: nobody makes anymore gems without telling somebody, no more surprises!

………

In retrospect, they probably should’ve decided on that rule a lot sooner, maybe a planet ago.

By the time they all return to the ghost world with a stockpile of newer tech and ships, they find Cloudy in the middle of a fully-operational and tidied up base, with everything rigged to accept voice commands and read out text, and a brand new shadow hovering around him.

Pepper Diamond (Horrorswapfell Papyrus) emerged from the ruins of one of the abandoned cities, Cloudy explains, and has been very helpful in the others’ absence, wonderful company—he told them he’d manage fine. > 3c

Well.

After all of that, the military base had been their last, best clue to finding Homeworld, or at least the remains of it, if gemkind were truly gone…

After a bit of discussion among the group, they decide to take communicators and ships and anything else they wanted/needed and just…go their separate ways, to do their own things.

Cubic and Moissanite set up shop on the first world they can find with sentient organics that will accept them, wanting to be around other people and to live peacefully.

Raw and Champagne choose to stick to their mission, going on the wild goose chase that is the search for other gems somewhere in the universe, even without any solid leads—the gem empire was expansive, but not As Infinite As the Universe-expansive, so they haven’t had any luck yet.

Pink and Olive are curious about other gems, too, but make it their mission to hunt down all the deserted bases, Kindergartens, and outposts in their neck of the universe and fix them up, restoring everything to its former glory as best they can—whether those places are promising in terms of leads/clues or not. It’s their heritage and they want to explore it and restore it, if they’re able.

Cloudy and Pepper intend to stay put on their birth world…but when Cloudy’s done everything he can on their planet, he gets a little bored sifting through the ruins of this dead world and wants to go find somewhere with living organics to stay instead. Pepper (reluctantly) agrees and they stumble upon a fledgling, primitive society that seems to think of these giant, shining and glowing immortals as some sort of deities… Oops, it seems as if they’ve started a colony of sorts on accident!

They’ll all keep on keeping on, and if anything interesting happens or someone needs a hand, they can reach the others to get back in touch.

…

Unbeknownst to the Outer Galaxy diamonds or the Diamond Authority back on Homeworld, a strange pair of Chameleon Diamonds—one Reverse (Gastertale Sans) and one Classic (Gastertale Papyrus)—are spat out of a singularity, somewhere in a galaxy in between.

They’ve got a lot of knowledge between the two of them, in the skulls behind their briolette-cut gems, but not a single solid memory, and their only clue is a whole lot of wreckage of some strange machine scattered around them in space.

They don’t know what they are, where they came from, how they’re alive, or what all this junk is…but once they make their way to a planet with gravity and stuff they can fashion tools and parts out of, they do figure out that they can cobble together a ship out of all this...

What better use of a couple of brothers’ time than a bit of adventuring, leisurely exploring the universe and any interesting lifeforms or civilizations they find along the way, with little more than respect of the Prime Directive to argue about? ;3

#skelegems #diamond au #undergloom #ug!sans #ug!papyrus #horrorfell #hf!sans #hf!papyrus #horrorswap #hs!sans #hs!papyrus #horrorswapfell #hsf!sans #hsf!papyrus #gastertale #g!sans #g!papyrus #Anonymous

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon

https://ift.tt/30jSLcc

The year 2000 was a scary one for horror films and not always in a good way.

While American Psycho and The Cell offered up visually striking nihilistic thrills to genre fans, the majority of horror movies released at the dawn of the new millennium were at best forgettable and, at worst, lamentable – yes, we’re looking at you, Leprechaun in the Hood.

This was the year of duff sequels like Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, Urban Legends: Final Cut and, though it is painful to admit, Scream 3. Horror fans were screaming out for something different, something exciting. They found it with Final Destination.

Discarding the stalk-and-slash thrills that had enjoyed a revival in the years following the release of Scream, Final Destination centered on a group of high schoolers who end up avoiding a fatal plane crash thanks to a premonition, only to discover there is no escaping death’s plan as one by one they are offed in a variety of brilliantly inventive “accidents”.

Released in March of that year, Final Destination was a sleeper hit with word-of-mouth helping the film to clean up at the box office, earning $112 million off a $23 million budget with more than half of that coming internationally.

To date, it has spawned four sequels as well as a variety of novelisations and comic book spin-offs while a franchise reboot is also on the horizon.

Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Jeffrey Reddick has worked on several films during his career to date but he’s probably best known as the creator of Final Destination. It’s something he has come to terms with.

“It’s probably going to end up on my gravestone, it’s such an ironic title,” he tells Den of Geek.

“Sometimes I’ll be out and I will hear someone say ‘you just had a Final Destination moment’ and it will make me smile. The whole thing just took on a life of its own.”

Nightmarish Origins

A screenwriter and director, Reddick recalls how his neighbors in rural Jackson, Kentucky, would laugh when his six-year-old self would tell them about his plans to work in the movie business.

An avid writer and reader of Greek and Roman mythology, he recalls spending his formative years watching horror movies with his friends. His mother was only too happy to indulge his burgeoning interest too, knowing it kept him out of trouble elsewhere.

Reddick’s life began to change after he saw A Nightmare on Elm Street.

“That film cemented my love of horror. I was this 14-year-old hillbilly from Kentucky but I decided I was going to write a prequel. I went home, banged it out on my typewriter and sent it to Bob Shaye.”

The legendary head of New Line Cinema initially dismissed Reddick’s draft out of hand, returning it with a note explaining the studio did not “accept unsolicited material.”

Undaunted, Reddick sent the script back with a note telling him “Look mister, I spent three dollars on your movie and I think you could take five minutes on my story.”

Shaye was impressed and struck up a bond with the youngster that saw him sending everything from scripts to posters to Reddick during his teenage years.

When Reddick moved to New York to study acting, age 19, he was offered an internship with New Line, which would become a full-time role despite acting being his “main passion.”

“Diversity in casting was not a thing at that time,” he recalls.

“My agent was like ‘I don’t know what to do with you as an actor. We can’t put you up for gangsters or pimps and you don’t rap and you don’t play basketball.”

“So I figured, screw it, I will just write stuff and put myself in it.”

Reddick was present at New Line during their company’s early 90s creative heyday and credits the experience with helping him get Final Destination off the ground.

“I learned a lot about how to get a movie made. I knew that to make a movie that connected with an audience you had to tap into something that was universal. Death is the ultimate fear.”

As luck would have it, the idea actually came to Reddick while on a flight back to Kentucky.

“I read about a woman who was on vacation and her mother told her not to take the flight she was planning to take home as she had a bad feeling about it. The woman changed it and the plane she was supposed to be on crashed.”

At that point however the idea wasn’t Final Destination. It wasn’t a film either. It was an episode of The X Files.

The Truth Is Out There

“I was trying to get a TV agent at the time and they recommended I write a spec script for something already on the air. I was a huge fan of The X Files and thought about a scene where somebody has a premonition and gets off the plane and then it crashes and used that as the plot.”

“It was going to be Scully’s brother Charles who had the premonition. He gets off the plane with a few other people but they start dying and Charles blacks out every time there is a murder so people suspect he is doing it.

I Still Want to Believe: Revisiting The X-Files Pilot

By Chris Longo

“The twist at the end was that the sheriff who had been investigating alongside Mulder and Scully the whole time had actually been shot and flatlined at the same time as the plane crash. Death brought him back to kill off all the survivors, including Charles.”

It would have made for a great episode except it was never submitted to The X Files. Reddick showed his spec script to some friends at New Line who were so impressed, they told him to develop it into a treatment for a feature, which was eventually purchased by the studio.

Producers Craig Perry and Warren Zide were brought onboard to develop the story and set about tweaking his idea.

“Originally the cast of survivors were adults because I wanted to explore more adult themes but Scream had come out and teenagers were hot again so New Line got me to change it”

In a twist of fate, two established writers from The X Files, James Wong and Glen Morgan, were brought onboard to rejig Reddick’s script.

“My version was definitely darker and more like A Nightmare on Elm Street,” he says.

“In my script, death would torment the kids about some kind of past sin they felt guilty about. They would then die in these accidents that ended up looking like suicides.”

For example, Todd’s death saw him chased into the family garage by an unseen specter where he accidentally ended up rigged in a noose triggered when his dad opens the automatic garage door.

Death is all around us

Ultimately that death scene and several others were ultimately scrapped in favour of what would prove to be the franchise’s calling card.

Reddick credits Wong and Morgan with coming up with the idea of having the film’s key death scenes kicked off by a Rube Goldberg machine-like chain-reaction that would see everyday things colliding to create a lethal scenario. It was nothing short of a masterstroke.

“It created this notion that death is all around us,” Reddick says.

“Death would use everyday things around us. It made it more universal and allowed us to set the deaths in places where people go all the time. The payoff would be fun but it was the build-up that had you on the edge of your seat.”

There was one major sticking point for the studio though: the presence of death, or rather the lack of.

“I fought really hard to make sure we never showed death because for me, if you didn’t show it, it could be something someone, no matter their belief system, could project onto our villain. That was a tough sell for the studio. They would be like ‘this doesn’t make any sense, you can’t see it and you can’t fight it’ but that’s the point, it’s death.”

“Luckily both James Wong and Glen Morgan were very insistent we never show it and tie it in to a specific belief system.”

Reddick credits the move with helping Final Destination become “an international phenomenon”.

“It struck a chord with people around the world. It broke out beyond the horror audience.”

Casting dreams

When it came to casting, Reddick had a clear idea of who he wanted in the lead roles, even if the studio’s opinion differed drastically.

“I had a wish list with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst as my two leads but New Line was like ‘well…’”

He might not have got his first pick but Final Destination boasted an impressive cast of up-and-comers who had already made waves among teen audiences.

Devon Sawa had starred in Idle Hands, while Ali Larter was known for Varsity Blues and Kerr Smith was a regular on Dawson’s Creek. There was even room for Seann William Scott, fresh from his breakout turn in American Pie who was drafted in on the recommendation of producer Craig Perry, who told Reddick “you’ve got to get this kid, he’s going to be huge.”

Even so, Reddick was left a little unhappy.

“One of the conversations we had early on was like ‘Just remember this is set in New York, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world so let’s make sure we have some diversity in the cast’ and they were like ‘oh we will’ and then there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t white in it.”

New Line chief Bob Shaye did find a way to make amends on some level at least, casting Candyman horror icon Tony Todd in a cameo role as a mysteriously foreboding mortician.

“He called me up and said they had got Tony Todd and I flipped out. He is an icon. Such a talented, serious actor.”

As well as co-write the film, Wong took on directorial duties while each of the film’s death sequences would require careful planning, his first aim was to have the film start with a bang by creating as terrifyingly realistic a plane crash as possible.

“We want to do for planes and air travel what Jaws did for sharks and swimming,” he declared in one interview.

Yet the film would later garner criticism for its eerie similarities to the explosion and crash of TWA Flight 800 off East Moriches, Long Island, New York in 1996 where 16 students and five adults died.

“There was some criticism that the movie was written to exploit this real-life crash,” Reddick recalls.

“I even realised later they used footage from one real-life crash which I wasn’t particularly happy about.”

Indeed, much of the news footage shown in the film actually came from the 1996 crash.

That didn’t stop the film becoming a major hit and spawning a sequel within three years.

Final Destination meets Game of Thrones

Reddick returned to write the treatment for Final Destination 2, determined to move the franchise away from its teen Scream origins.

“We had tapped into that zeitgeist and didn’t have to do that again. I wanted to expand the universe and subvert it, so I had it open by following a bunch of teens who are then killed off.”

Once again, divine intervention led to divine inspiration for the opening set piece.

“Originally, I was going to have it open with some kids going to spring break and they stop off at this hotel and there is a fire but the producers were not sure. Writers always say you should go out and live life – life informs you and a lot of inspiration comes out when I go out for a walk.

“I was driving back to Kentucky to see my family and I got stuck behind a log truck and the idea just came to me. I pulled off the highway and called Craig and was flipping out with this idea for a log truck on a freeway.”

The resulting freeway pile-up that leads to multiple deaths is one Reddick ranks as his “favourite scene in the entire franchise.”

“The second film is my favourite. I wanted to create a sequel that didn’t feel like a remake of the first. It went in a more fun direction – but it’s still scary.”

That first sequel also represented the last of which Reddick was formally involved in, though he remained very much in the loop as the Godfather of the franchise, revealing that producers had been “looking at scripts before Covid hit.”

He also revealed that, at one point, things looked to be heading in an altogether different and thoroughly fascinating direction.

“There was talk about setting a Final Destination back in Medieval times. Like Game of Thrones in Final Destination. Craig Perry worked with a writer and they talked about the idea and put a teaser trailer together [which has leaked online].

“I would go and see that movie in a heartbeat but the studio said that the reason Final Destination was so popular was that element of deaths in normal, everyday situations.”

Future Destinations

Reddick hasn’t given up on a return to the franchise though, hinting at a “unique” idea he has for a new film that is simply too good to reveal yet.

In the meantime, he has been busy writing and directing Don’t Look Back, a film that shares some surface similarities with Final Destination and is painfully relevant to society today.

“It’s a mystery thriller about a group of people who witness someone getting fatally assaulted in a park and don’t help the person and somebody films them and puts it online. The public turns on the witnesses and someone or something is coming after them.”

Eager to make more horror films and celebrate diversity in his work, Reddick remains immensely proud of Final Destination and the impact it has had on audiences.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“It’s cool. To have one movie that is going to be talked about after you die is a life goal. If that’s what I leave behind as a legacy that’s enough – but I still want more.”

Don’t Look Back is available on DVD & Digital from 14th June

The post How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3oUb1UD

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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pencilwritesshiz47 · 4 years

Text

Panic and Ruins

MGR Chapter three

TW: Panic Attack, death

[Previous] [Next] [Masterpost]

Goldie was freaking out.

The hole she had fallen through was about five feet deep, and she wasn’t hurt, so her original plan was to just wait in there until the danger had passed.

Until, of course, a rock had come barreling down on top of it, closing her in.

Usually, she would have used her magic to crush it, or at least move it away, but that time, all that came out was a weak burst of purple sparkles. She gasped, and crouched down.

The rock hadn’t crushed her, but it had cut down her hole depth from five feet to two, making the space small and dark.

Goldie did not like small and dark spaces. They reminded her of things that she liked to keep hidden in the back of her mind, far from where she would ever see them. When she was thrust into situations like this, it did not end well.

Hence, the panic attack.

Notagiannotagainnotagain

Her breathing started to speed up, and she started to shake.

Notagiannotagainnotagain

Her stomach started to churn, and she started to wiggle her foot, not knowing what else to do with it.

Notagiannotagainnotagain

It felt like her mind was a boat, and she was stuck in a storm of panic, crashing against rocks of memories. She couldn’t get out, and it seemed like the boat was sinking…

But, as always, there was a lighthouse.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

Her brain registered the sounds, trying to break free of the cycle of fear and anxiety she was trapped in, trying to focus on the voice.

“Breathe with me, ok? In for three... hold for three... out for three...”

She tried to breathe with them, even if the breaths were shaky.

“In for three… hold for three… out for three…”

Her breath started to regulate slightly, and she kept going.

“In for three… hold for three… out for three…”

The voice kept going on like this, and Goldie kept breathing with them, her panic slowly subsiding.

She opened her eyes (she didn’t even realize she had closed them), and saw a boy of about twelve in front of her. He was laying down, and it seemed like he had stuck his torso through a tunnel. He had brown hair, green eyes, and bronze-toned skin. He had a flame in his hand, and it lit up the hole, making her feel a bit better.

“Are you ok?” he asked, with concern in his voice.

“I’m ok enough. And, uh, who are you? How did you get here?”

“I’m Aaron,” he said, trying to reach out his hand before realizing that it would be awkward in the small space. “And me and my twin sister have been tunneling through, trying to get to the castle. Actually, speaking of the castle, do you have any idea how far away it is?”

“Hmm… ‘bout five minutes or so, I think.” she said, although not entirely sure.

He smiled, then turned his head behind him. “We’re there!”

She heard a muffled shout (of joy, she assumed), and the tunnel Aaron was sticking out of started to widen, until a girl’s torso came out of it as well. She looked like her brother, but instead of brown hair, it was long, and a bright bubblegum-pink. Her expression was also vastly different, instead of being cheerful and slightly anxious like her brother, she just seemed to be pissed. (But under the circumstances, who wouldn’t be?)

She spoke up. “You’re blocked in, right.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the thing blocking you made of?”

Goldie thought this was an odd question, until she realized that the girl was probably an earth elementist. (This would explain her making the tunnels, at least.)

She reached up to touch the thing above her head, and quickly pulled her hand back. It was flaming hot, and she felt like she would get burnt. But at the same time, it was bitterly cold, like biting wind.

She must have taken a while, before the pissed-off girl spoke again. “The Fade hasn’t stopped, you know. Now please, what is it made of?”

Goldie tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. Metal, possibly? But not rock, and at the very least, not normal rock.”

“Great,” she said. “Now how do we get to the palace?”

Aaron looked like he might cry. “We’re going to get stuck, I just know it—”

Goldie looked at the two of them, a bit surprised. “You could just have the pissed one do her stuff right above you so it doesn’t hit the rock.”

The two stared at her for a long moment.

“‘The pissed one?’” the girl said, looking a bit offended. “I have a name, you know. Eloise.”

Goldie sighed, about to say that she didn’t know that, but she realized that wasn’t worth her time. “Ok, Eloise. Can you do your stuff or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a few moments.”

She reached her hand up, touching the top of the hole. A small circle that would be just wide enough to climb out started to form, and within about a minute and a half, a tunnel was formed. Goldie was glad they would be able to get out, but she wondered what took so long. Most of the Earth elementals she knew would be able to do that in seconds. It might have been a lack of training, but that didn’t seem likely, the tunnel was perfect. Could it be the “Fade”? She had mentioned that earlier… if only Goldie could find out what it was.

She turned to ask them, but now Aaron was climbing out of the tunnel, almost to the top, and Eloise was already on the surface. She hurried up after them, fully intending to ask what it was, but then she looked around, and realized this was not the time.

The city was in ruins. Buildings had crashed, and fabric awnings of market stalls were in tatters, pieces laying over the burnt and cracked street. There were a few small fires, and she thought she even saw a few people hiding.

But what freaked her out the most was the noise. Stomping, grunting, and a few screams. Part of her needed to find out what was going on, but the other was far too scared to find out.

So she just decided to follow the twins, not knowing what else to do.

When they got there, Eloise kicked the gates open. She marched on through, but Goldie could see the tenseness she felt— she was scared.

When they walked in, she called out. “Dad? Father? Are you here?” There was silence.

Aaron gripped her arm. “El, maybe they’re already in the bunker. We should just head down there, alright?”

She quickly unhinged from his grasp. “No. They wouldn’t leave without us, and we’re not leaving without them?”

She looked back, surprise on her face. “You, uh, Goldie. You’re still here?”

Goldie sighed. “I was wondering if you could explain what the ‘Fade’ is.”

“Oh. Yes. That. Well, it’s kind of self-explanatory. Elemental powers are fading. Or at least, me and my brother’s. And it’s getting quicker by the second.”

Goldie looked at her, mouth agape. “My magic isn’t working either. Do… do you think this is happening to other people?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know we have to find—” she stopped.

There, on the wall in front of them, was an envelope, reading,

Aaron and Eloise

Aaron stepped in front of them to grab it, pulling out a paper with a red seal. He started to read.

“My Darlings. You must go now. We are all in grave danger. Head to the bunker, the key is in the envelope,” Here he paused, pulling out a small silver key on a chain. “And do not wait for us. Read the second letter when you get there. Best wishes, Father.”

They all stood in silence for a moment.

Then, they heard something. A crash, and a roar.

“O-our dads don’t roar,” Eloise stuttered out.

Aaron gulped.

“We should run, shouldn’t we.”

✧✧✧

They had been running for about fifteen minutes now. Eloise quickly turned into an ally, and Goldie looked at her, quite confused, before she gave her a fierce look, and they kept going.

At the end, she stopped, and knocked rhythmically on a crate. It slid away, revealing a trapdoor, which she threw open, and they filed inside.

To the right was a staircase, which the younger girl started to walk up. As Goldie followed her, she tried to see what was going on around her. But she had no luck. It was dark everywhere, the only light source coming from Aaron’s flame.

Suddenly, Eloise stopped them. “Here we are,” she said, and Aaron handed her the key. She felt around for a keyhole, and when she found it, she inserted the key. A clicking sound was heard, and she pushed open the door.

There was a medium-sized room inside. On one wall were a few beds, and there was a table and set of chairs in the center. On the left wall was a large cabinet that stretched from each corner, and there was a door leading to what Goldie thought to be a bathroom on the right.

They went over to the chairs, and sat down, Eloise closing the door behind her.

“Do you want me to leave?” Goldie asked. “So you can read the note?”

The two looked at each other. “No, it’s probably just a simple explanation, and I’m sure you have just as many questions as we do,” Aaron said, and his sister nodded. He opened up the letter, and he began to read once more.

“To Aaron and Eloise. If you’re reading this…” he trailed off, and gasped.

Eloise looked at him. “Well, go on! We have to know what happened.”

He nodded, and took a deep breath. “If you’re reading this, we’re gone.”

He stopped again, and looked at his sister. Tears pricked her eyes, but she nodded, so he continued.

“We are sorry. We are sorry that we are not there for you, and will not be there. We are sorry we have left you alone, and that we have left you with our responsibilities. We are sorry we will not get to see Aaron’s coronation and his reign as king, or watch Eloise take over our army and lead it to victory.

“But I do know that you are capable, and that you will be able to do those things, even without our guidance. Please know that we are so proud of you, and love you more than you will ever know.

“All our love,

“Dad + Father.”

There was silence for a moment, while everyone tried to process what just happened. Goldie sighed, and spoke. “I know. How it feels. And if you want to be alone, I get that. But if you don’t, just- just know I’m here.”

Aaron stood up, and walked over to Goldie’s chair, hugging her. Eloise scooted her chair over as well, and she started crying. “They-they’re… dead. I- Our dads are dead.”

Her brother’s face scrunched up, and he started sobbing. “I know.”

And as Goldie held the grieving twins, sitting in a bunker in an unknown part of an unknown country, she knew one thing.

Things wouldn’t be normal for a very long time.

Taglist:

@dorkdukess

@xonar-verse

wooooooooooo! hey look, i got it out!!

(also this is 1,920 words i think)

(so)

(:D)

anyways, please let me know:

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist

If I’ve made any spelling mistakes

If I’ve made any grammar errors

Your general feedback

Your questions

If I should add any other trigger warnings.

Reblogs and comments are way more helpful than likes, which don’t really do anything for me!

Thank you, and have a great day/night.

#mgr #mgr story #writings #my writing #ocs #oc story #fantasy story #goldie potter #princess eloise jamison #prince aaron jamison #xan ruz #tw death #tw panic attack #mgr chapter three

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myfriendscallmecoelophysis · 4 years

Text

fragile tiny shells

Dedicated to @transvav and @the-nerf-house

Its the atla AU fic where I hurt Jordan a bunch based on one day where @fanwp and I went absolutely feral on the poor guy. TW: blood, violence, character death, general sadness/angst

When he’d left his forest to join these people, Jordan had not expected to make connections with them. If he’d had his way, he would have stayed in his tree and away from the rest of the world. He’d done his time as a hero, let someone else save the day this time. But then he’d seen the Avatar, the uncertainty in her eyes at what the future would hold, not to mention Ianite’s less than subtle pushing that he helped them. There were other waterbenders, the Avatar and her motley crew could go bother one of them. He'd left his home with them nonetheless and against all odds, had started to view them as friends. They still knew next to nothing about him, they’d only just found out he was a waterbender, but he did have to admit it was nice to have others around for a change.

He and Sonja were resting during one of their lessons. The pond near their camp was hidden under a shaded canopy of trees, a small creek feeding it from some mountain spring far away. There was a cave system beneath them, carved out by years of the pond dripping down through the earth. It was today’s lesson, for Sonja to begin feeling the water all around her and learn to discern between different sources. She’d had some success so far, she knew the pond was losing water somewhere but hadn’t been able to fully pinpoint it yet.

“One of the monks at the temple where Wag and I grew up used to say that by tracing the wind we could trace the past. The theoretical stuff was never my strong suit in the way it was Wag’s but I guess this is kind of the same idea isn’t it?”

“In a way I suppose. There are some who say that water has memories,” he paused, hesitating in saying more. If he wasn’t careful he would tread dangerously close to words that he’d heard in his village. Before she could press for more he pulled a rivulet of water from the pond, swirling it around his fingers. “If you can learn to follow its path you can find every place it’s ever been. This pond for example. It’s been here for so long that none of the water that originally contained within it is left, it’s been refilled over and over by the creek which in turn is filled by a stream that flowed from a spring in the mountains fed from melting ice each season. We’ve talked about how there is water in everything and no matter what it is, it originated somewhere.”

“A body changes water into blood but that does not erase its memory of being water. Control that water and you control the blood and the body.” A voice sneered in his memories.

But then another spoke over it “I can pull the blood to places where the body needs more healing from within. I guess there is some benefit to be had from this ‘skill’.” Martha had always been the more positive one of the two of them but he’d always been grateful to her for that.

“Jordan?” Sonja’s voice drew him out of his reverie.

“Sorry, what was I saying?”

They finish for the day, rejoining the group back at camp. The sound of raucous laughter greets them as they emerge from the trees. A fire has been made, fish already roasting on sticks around it.

“And Jeriah was all ‘You guys really thought Tom had a chance at being Mianite’s Champion? He’s been nothing but chaotic his whole life!’” Tucker was saying, a hand on his stomach as he laughed.

“Sonja! Tell us a funny Wag story from when you were kids!” Tom demanded when he spotted them coming into the clearing.

“Uh when we were learning how to use our gliders he ran into-”

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!” Wag interrupted.

“THE SIDE OF THE-” Sonja started yelling, a smile on her face as Wag tried to tackle her. She ran from him and in moments they were air-stepping higher and higher, the rest of the group laughing right along with them.

Ianite brushed up against his ankles to get his attention, meowing up at him. “You look upset.” She said as he gently lifted her to his shoulder.

He feigned a yawn, muttering “I'm fine” behind his hand. Her ears flicked back in displeasure but didn’t push him. He took a seat on one of the rock seats Tom or Tucker had made, a fairly standard practice at this point. None of them really wanted to deal with chopping down trees every time they had a fire so it just made more sense for one of the earthbenders to make small pillar seats for everyone.

“What about you Jordan? What’s your family like?” Dec asked, rotating the fish skewers he could reach.

He felt Ianite stiffen, her claws lightly pricking into his shoulders, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind him of her presence past the weight of her around his neck. The thing was, part of him did want to tell them. The part of him that ached to get the weight of everything he’d endured off of his chest. Talking to Ianite about it was one thing, she had been with him through most of his life and knew about the parts she’d not been with him for. It was another to talk to people he hardly knew even if he had been travelling with them for several weeks now.

He cleared his throat and calmly said “They’re gone now. It’s just me and My Lady.” It was handy that they all thought Ianite’s name was Lady, it made addressing her properly easier to explain. For his part, Dec looked abashed at having brought it up.

“Jordan, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know. No harm done.”

It took a few minutes for the awkward tension to dissipate but eventually it did, talk turning back to stories from the other’s childhoods. They all wisely refrained from asking Jordan about his own.

The moon was high above when they decided to call it a night, Tucker pulling the pillars back into the ground while Karl bolstered the fire to make sure it would burn well into the night and keep them warm. Sometimes, when they were close to towns or in dangerous territory someone would stay up and keep watch but tonight, this far from any sign of civilization it was decided that it was unnecessary. Nevertheless Jordan climbed into a large tree on the edge of the clearing, bending and shaping the branches and leaves to make himself a platform to sleep on. He preferred it this way, a better vantage point and easily defensible if something were to happen. Plus, should the absolute worse happen, he could disappear into the forest further.

“Goodnight My Champion” Ianite purred as she settled in next to his head, the tip of her tail barely brushing his hair. They’d come to the understanding long ago that they both slept better with the other next to them but Jordan tossed and turned too much in the night for her to sleep directly on him.

“Goodnight Milady.”

He could hear shouting as he came to awareness. Screams of terror and desperate yelling. He was at home, not the treehouse in the forest, but his real home. Instantly, Jordan realized that this was a nightmare. A nightmare he’d had dozens if not hundreds of times since it had happened. He knew how it went and that he had no choice but to just let it play out unless Ianite sensed his distress and woke him up.

He leapt from his bed and threw on his coat and gloves. The village was already in flames, the buildings not made of stone or wood crumbling and melted.

“Captain!” One of his Lieutenants called out, running over.

“What’s going on?” Jordan asked. Inherently he knew but the dream would run its course no matter how much he tried to stop or change it. He was a viewer in his own body.

“Firebenders sir, at least three ships from the Fire Nation, with more on the horizon. The breached the walls somehow just as the sun was rising. We’ve managed to slow the assault but sir, we’re outnumbered.” His face was pleading, waiting for answers, waiting for hope, waiting for Jordan to say that they had a chance. There was nothing he could say. Their village was not a large one, not like the Water Tribe Capital at the North Pole or even the City in the far South. They were a small village dedicated to Lady Ianite and her Temple.

“Continue your efforts, round up who you can and focus on keeping the invaders away from the Temple. Surely they’re after Lady Ianite. And if anyone figures out just who they are, tell me immediately. This is unlike followers of Dianite to just openly attack.” The Lieutenant bowed quickly and the two separated to run in opposite directions.

Jordan encountered half a dozen firebenders on his way to the Temple. Each moment spent defending himself or his people was a moment that Ianite could be in danger. He loathed taking lives of any kind, he couldn’t even bring himself to butcher a fish, not after what had happened. Instead he left a trail of frozen, struggling enemies buried up to their necks in ice. They could melt their way out of course but it would take time and the cold would sap their strength.

He passed Sola’s home, affording a quick peek inside to ensure that she had things under control and that all the children whose guardians were fighting were taking cover, including his own little brother. She reacted the moment he entered, nearly spearing him through the eye with an icicle. They’d trained her well enough at least. “Jordan, thank Ianite you’re here! Jerry ran away, he said something about wanting to help you-” He tuned out for a moment with a frustrated breath. Why couldn’t his little brother ever do as he was told? Now was not the time to try and play hero.

“I’ll find him, stay here. Keep yourself and the rest of the kids safe.” He ordered, running back out the door, absently putting up a wall of ice to provide another layer of protection.

As he ran through the village towards the Temple he kept his eyes open for a flash of green. Jerry was just about the only person in the entire village that wore colors besides shades of blue, white or grey and he always without fail wore the green scarf that their Father had sent him years ago. Their Father had been a travelling merchant who’d fallen in love with their Mother when he’d come to the village. He’d visited periodically until Mother had died but hadn’t said a word to either Jordan or Jerry since. Presumably he was still alive somewhere but Jordan hardly cared, he’d only seen his Father a handful of times in his life and never for very long. Jerry, the hopeless optimist he was, was determined that their Father would come back for them one day. Jordan had long since given up on the same idea.

He saw the smoke rising from the Temple before he got there, sliding to a stop on the hard packed snow. His guards were doing their job valiantly, holding in formation at the top of the steps while their enemy shot blast after blast of fire at them and the Temple itself. Pulling the water from a nearby channel, Jordan rushed in, riding the wave he’d made as it surged towards the firebenders. The new angle caught them off guard and all five were swept in the current, frozen within it as Jordan leapt away.

“Lady Ianite?” He questioned, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Inside sir! Kana and Tarno are with her now.”

“I’ll take her out of the village, Taika, Sani, guard my back, the rest of you go help where you can. And if anyone happens to see Jerry, take him back to Sola for Ianite’s sake.” Where normally there would be snickers at their Captain’s brothers antics, today there were only crisp nods of understanding. This was no time for jokes.

Forming a trident was as easy as breathing, the ice cool and smooth beneath his glove. He truly didn’t need it but he felt better with a physical weapon in his hand, something concrete that he could use faster than he could gesture for water. In the end he would always rely on water though.

“It is everywhere dear boy. There is nowhere in this world that a waterbender is truly unarmed.” A voice hissed in his mind. Jordan tightened his grip on the trident, tight enough that fractures cracked along the shaft. No. He had grown past those lessons. Lady Ianite had taught him and helped him heal from his past. He didn’t belong to them. Not anymore.

He took a calming breath, willing his heartbeat to slow. He needed to stay focused. If they wanted any chance at surviving this battle, he needed to keep a steady head.

Ianite looked up when he entered her chamber. “Captain, something is very wrong.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, one he’d come to recognize as her sight. There was more at play here than a simple raid. He really should have expected as much. His life was never simple.

“Milady we have to go. It’s not safe in the village.” He reached to take her hand when an explosion erupted from behind them. Jordan threw up a shield to block him and Ianite from the worst of it, but still the force flung them both into the ground. When he opened his eyes, it was horribly, gut-wrenchingly bright in what was normally a darkened room. The Temple was in ruin around them, the last vestiges of the structure collapsing into piles of snow and ice. Jordan heard Ianite give a whimper of anguish but he didn’t look, his own gaze focused on the massive chunk of ice that now lay where his guards had been standing. He’d lost warriors before, both before Ianite had found him and after she’d made him Captain of her guard. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“Ianite, we have to leave, now.” The words felt heavy in his throat and turning away took actual effort. He reached out a hand to help her to her feet and allowed just the slightest hint of his old teachings to slip into him now, just enough to let him get through this day without his emotions taking control.

What lay outside the Temple ruins was not a much better sight. Massive fireballs rained from the sky, exploding on impact to send clouds of snow rubble into the air. They had already been fighting a losing battle but he’d managed to force what little hope he could, now, looking at the remains of the village, even that hope was beginning to bleed from him. That was when his eyes fell upon the figure standing at the base of the stairs.

They were clothed in shades of black and red, hair a deep rippling shade of burgundy. Their lips were curled into a sadistic grin, chaos alight in their eyes. Twin daggers of flame extended from each of their closed fists, the fire growing to a pair of crackling swords as they locked eyes with Jordan.

“So the Champion finally emerges.” They called up to him. “A shame it took me destroying your entire village to draw you out of hiding. But I do as My Lord bids.” and it's the pointed way the title is spoken that makes Jordans veins turn to ice. He let go of Ianite's hand and stepped forward, his challengers grin growing even wider. “Nothing to say Champion? I expected more from you after what I've heard of your abilities.”

Jordan shed his coat and gloves, letting his trident melt back to water and fall to the ground. “Stay here.” He ordered Ianite softly. She was a goddess yes, but he wanted her nowhere near this lunatic that had razed his home. She nodded, respecting him and his judgement well enough to listen.

He descended the stairs slowly, flexing fingers and muscles to warm them up. He was the best bender in the village, that was a fact he was confident about, but if his suspicions were correct, the person before him had been trained by or at least served the same Master that had trained Jordan. There was no telling what they might be capable of.

As he reached the ground, he fell easily into his bending stance, hands loosely raised in front of him and feet planted, ready to react at a moment's notice. The fire in his foe’s hands crackled then extinguished as they got into their own bending stance.

“I look forward to returning your corpse to My Lord.” They sneered, teeth bared.

Jordan did not speak, he wouldn’t waste breath rising to taunts. Instead he simply raised a questioning eyebrow, sliding his foot just so as his opponent lunged.

He didn’t relive the fight. He didn't remember each and every move he made like he did the words he said that day. Lady Ianite however, did. He watched himself through her eyes as she had shown him the very first time he’d asked to see. It had helped with his trauma somewhat at first but as he began to watch the fight over and over in his mind, it only made things worse. He saw each and every little mistake he’d made; every missed strike, every misplaced foot or wrist, every hit he took. Jordan considered this fight to be one of the most formative and important of his life and he’d lost. He wondered constantly that if he hadn’t made those mistakes, if he had dodged one fire blast or another or landed a well placed water whip or ice blade, could the outcome had been changed?

Jordan watched himself stumble backwards, feet slipping on ice he was normally so sure footed on, chest heaving from exertion and burns marring his exposed skin. He still had scars from one or two of the larger ones that couldn’t be fully healed. His opponent stalked forward, expression manic and unhinged. “I expected better from you!” They taunted, releasing a gout of flame from their fist that Jordan barely blocked. “The great Champion of Ianite, fallen before me!” another blast punctuated the statement and oh how Jordan remembered this moment.

He could feel the heat on his face, the steam in the air, the ice beneath him. He saw the flash of green across the courtyard but could not bring himself to shout a warning. He watched as a snowball as big as his head crashed into the side of his opponent's face and heard Jerry’s cry of “Leave my brother alone!” The Darkness’ minion turned with a snarl and then the world was moving in slow motion.

He was yelling, trying to scramble to his feet. Ianite was shouting from above him. And Jerry’s eyes were wide, terrified, reflecting the light of the fire. Jordan raised a hand desperately, all thought of forms or proper training gone, relying on instinct alone. He can feel the water in Jerry’s blood at the tip of his fingers, fear striking him instantly at the recognition. He hesitates, just a fraction of a moment but it’s long enough.

The world blurs, tears, steam, smoke, fire and white hot burning fury unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He can’t breath, can’t even scream. He’s not in his body anymore, instead watching again through Ianite’s eyes and thoughts. She’s crying, her own vision hazy. She watches him get to his feet and raise his arms, expression as hard as the crystalline ice that had once stood around them.

She had never shown him the entirety of this memory out of care for his psyche, only glimpses. She had seen the hurricane that rampaged through the remains of the village, indiscriminate and all consuming. She had watched the ice stain with streaks of red and smudges of ash, the last foundations of the buildings crumbling back to the snow they were made from. All she can do is go to Jerry and shield him from the storm. She is a goddess but she is no bender. There is so little she herself can do for the child. She cradled him in her arms, blocking him from the biting wind and stinging fragments of ice.

Ianite cries. She cries for her village. She cries for her people. She cries for the child in her arms. She cries for her Champion. She cries because of how utterly useless she feels at this moment. The storm rages until there is nothing left of the village and softly Ianite calls to her Champion. She knows he will not hear her spoken voice, lost in his agony as he is, instead she calls gently into his mind, coaxing him back from the precipice of self destruction.

“My Champion, your brother needs you. Please.” Slowly, the storm begins to subside, the ice turning to rain and then to gentle snowfall. Jordan is in the center of the village, knelt, unmoving in the rubble. “Jordan.” She called to him with as much care as she could. He was so very fragile in the moment, as he had been when they had first met. She would go to him if she could, but she was afraid that even the slightest movement would further hinder Jerry’s dwindling chances of survival.

Jordan looked towards her, expression blank and eyes glassy. Shakily he got to his feet and began to walk towards her. She could see the weakness in him with every step and her hopes for Jerry grew smaller and smaller. Jordan may be capable of healing, but he was never the best at it and in this state she was afraid he may not have the strength. He crumpled to the ground before her, reaching out to take his brother in his own arms and hold him close.

He’s in his own mind once more, looking down at Jerry’s body. They’re both covered in blood and the smell of it makes Jordan’s stomach roil. The green scarf is hardly more than a charred scrap of fabric around Jerry’s neck, his clothes and hair scorched. Jordan raised a hand, ignoring the way it shook and his body protested, pulling forth as much water as he could muster. He guided it to pool around the worst of Jerry’s burns, trying to focus on healing, on aligning the energy paths and chakras. But as he felt Jerry’s heartbeat slow further and further, it became all he could focus on.

“No.” He breathed, anger bubbling back to life at his inability. He reached for the blood, forcing it to circulate. Forcing it to keep his heart beating and lungs moving. He could not, would not, let Jerry die. Not now. Not because of this. Every muscle in Jordan’s body was quivering from exertion but still he continued. He could hear the echo of the Darknesses' praise in his mind, every word about bloodbending and how it was the ultimate skill, how he was to be a Champion for his mastery of it.

“Then why isn’t it working?!” He demanded, shouting back at the honeyed praise. Because he knew that it wasn’t. Jerry wasn’t healing, his body was being forced to remain alive by the push and pull of his blood throughout it.

It was Ianite who finally stopped him, wrapping a delicate, bloodstained hand around his wrist. He looked up to glare at her but his anger melted to misery in an instant at the sight of her tear streaked face. She let go of his wrist to wrap her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Jordan whispered. “I’m so sorry.” It’s not just an apology to Ianite; but an apology to Jerry, to the village, to the mother he’d lost long ago and the father he’d lost even further back. It’s an apology to everyone he’d ever known that had suffered because of him or the Darkness or the ties that had bound them together against his will. It won’t do anything to bring anyone back, nothing would.

“I’m here Jordan. You’re not alone. Not anymore.” Ianite says in his mind and then he’s waking up.

Ianite is curled on his chest, head tucked under his chin. She’s purring so loud it's a wonder she hasn't woken him sooner.

“I’m here My Champion. You’re not alone. Never again.”

#mianite #Mianite fanfiction #atla au #Captain Sparklez #Ianite #Jerry the little brother #omgitsfirefoxx #furia #angst #Blame Nerf House #my writing #words words words

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noonachronicles · 5 years

Text

Everlong Pt. 7

Kwon Jiyong/ G Dragon X Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: mild language and some violent imagery (?)

Genre: Hades/Jiyong. Greek God AU. Fantasy.

A/N: Fingers crossed y’all think it’s good lolololol!

Update Tag: @kathrynwynterbourne , @astarlitworld, @blue-lungs , @violagoth , @un-idntfied , @optimizche , @de-gabyconamor , @134340-cm @wonderful39530

Moodboard by Bae @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

One weekend during your first summer living with Jiho, when you were still just roommates, the two of you had gotten into a massive argument. It was a Saturday towards the end of June and had been the longest day of the year, literally. Summer solstice. The sun had reached its highest point in the sky and the daylight had lasted longer than any other day of the year. Longer than anyone had wanted really. The apartment didn’t have central air so most the day had seen you two bickering over who got to stand directly in front of the open freezer door since the a/c unit in the window had broken down the summer prior and Jiho had never replaced it.

Tensions were already peaked and made worse by the fact that you’d been so hot you couldn’t even think of eating anything other than popsicles, so you were also starving. Irritation levels were bordering on nuclear. You had gone to the refrigerator to grab one of the chilled water bottles, the only thing giving you any relief, when you found that Jiho had taken the last one and hadn’t replaced it. The screaming match lasted for two full hours and the subject matter varied so many times that by the time you walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind you, you couldn't even remember what the original issue had been.

All that afternoon and well after the sun had set, you walked around downtown. You didn’t stop anywhere, you didn’t go inside any air conditioned buildings or cool down with an iced coffee. You walked and you walked and when you thought your feet were going to pop off at the ankle, you kept walking. Finally when you were sticky all over where your sweat had bloomed and dried, and bloomed all over again until you felt like you were more layers of sweat than layers of skin, you went home. Your plan worked.

By the time you’d gotten back to the apartment Jiho had passed out in his room, which meant the argument would remain dead. It also meant you were able to take a nice long cold shower, so long that when you stepped out you were still shivering. And you did it without him complaining about how much water you used. By the time you let your body crash down on the mattress you were so exhausted that you slept well into the next afternoon. Waking up you found that Jiho had gotten up early that morning and purchased a new air conditioner and replaced the water in the refrigerator. He’d put tiny gift bows on each bottle and left a note with a cute cartoon drawing on it that said ‘I’m sorry roomie’. That was the first time you felt anything for him beyond your normal platonic relationship.

That walk, you’d thought, was much worse than this one. The sun was warm here, but the air around you was relatively cool. When you did finally feel yourself starting to perspire you simply took off your sweater, grateful to your past self for remembering to wear a shirt underneath which you didn’t normally do, and wrapped it around your waist. Jiyong seemed completely unphased by anything. Still in his heavy coat and sweater combo, not even a hint of a bead of sweat on his brow.

The only thing that made your other walk slightly better was having all the people to watch, the buildings to peek into, and other general activity often found in cities to observe. Your initial excitement had worn off sooner than you’d hoped as Jiyong led you down a dirt road towards the mountains you’d seen earlier. He’d said that he wanted to get the nasty stuff over with first and the pair of you had been walking the road to Tartarus for what felt like hours. You’d talked a lot along the way but there was a lot of silence as well. You liked both equally. You could, you’d thought to yourself several times, talk to Jiyong for hours about anything and never get tired of it. You could also just be near him silently and have that be enough as well.

“It feels like we’ve been walking forever,” you said as the two of you finally reached the mountain. You squinted up at the bright orb in the sky and then followed Jiyong towards a creek that led to an opening in the mountains, a valley. “But the sun isn’t even at its highest point yet, it’s not even noon.”

“Time works differently here.” he said simply. “It moves slowly at first and then before you know it, it moves very, very quickly.”

You hummed thoughtfully and leaped onto a large rock sticking out above the shallow water. “So what’s down here?”

“Horrible, terrible things I would have never suggested you see or experience in life or in death.” he said quite bluntly.

“Drama queen.” you teased with an eye roll before jumping to the next rock and catching your balance.

Jiyong followed along side the small creek, watching you as you hopped from one large flat rock to the next over and over. He was finding your constant playfulness refreshing. He’d walked this world a million times both by himself and in the company of many others, but you seemed to see it differently than anyone before you. Several times already you’d pointed out things to him that he’d been taking for granted. Smells that you loved, sights you found breathtaking. You saw everything that no one else ever took notice of all while asking a million and one questions. He knew he’d answer a million more for you if you wanted to ask him.

As curious as you were, however, he still didn’t really like the idea of you going to Tartarus. He wasn’t even really fond of you having come this far. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, not any of it. And he still didn’t know enough about you to be sure you could handle it all. You could do things and see things beyond what you should be capable of, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t still mortal. That you weren’t still vulnerable to the tricks and traps of the underworld.

He scratched the back of his neck nervously as you hopped to another rock, “Will you please be careful. If you break an ankle I’m not carrying you. I might drag your body but that’s it, that’s as chivalrous as I get.”

“Listen Frodo, you may enjoy impossibly long walks through deserted wastelands, but I’m just trying to find fun where I can get it, okay?” you said taking another leap.

He scoffed, “I’d like to remind you that this extended journey was your own idea. So desperate to see it all.”

“Maybe,” you said before your next big jump, “so. In fairness to me, when you said there wouldn’t be any creepy skeletons or sad spirits, I thought you were lying. I didn’t realize that besides the people walking around near the gates, we were going to be the only two people in the entire underworld.”

“How long do you think the underworld has been around?” Jiyong asked clasping his hands behind his back as he continued to walk parallel to you.

“Like...awhile.”

“And how many people do you think die every year?” he asked.

“A bajillion.” you said sarcastically, “but doesn’t that just prove my point that there should be more people, more souls, hanging around?”

“Fifty-five million people died last year. Of course that number increases as the number of people being born each year increases, so it wasn’t always that high, but you get the point. So what would you suggest we do with millions of people in our limited space?” he finished his rant.

“What would I suggest ‘we’ do? Who is ‘we’ exactly?”

He seemed to sputter out his response. “Just… whoever runs this place. Not us we, but the general usage of the word.”

You hopped across three large stones landed in the gravel beside Jiyong. “Well then, what do they do with everyone? Mr. I know everything ever about everything ever.”

“It’s a little bit different everywhere,” he started to explain but you grabbed his arm and he paused.

“Who is that?” you asked nervously looking down the creek.

There was a gangly man walking towards the two of you. Torn, dark denim stretched over his impossibly long legs and tucked into dark brown leather hiking boots. On top of that he wore a plain gray hoodie underneath a black coat. His black hair was quaffed to one side and even though his head was down you could see the way his ears pulled away from his head like wings, and you didn’t know why but it made you smile despite your nerves. There was a burlap satchel hanging at his hip that he was digging in, so he hadn’t even noticed the two of you yet.

“Pothos,” Jiyong muttered. The god of longing. One of the three erotes, gods of love and desire. He was a decent friend actually, he and Hades had bonded through their commonalities. Similar to Hades, Pothos had also been duped by his two brothers and was now in charge of those souls who had wasted their lives on unrequited love, in their deaths. “Stay here a minute.”

“Jiyong…” you whispered and squeezed his arm tightly. “Don’t go.”

“You’re okay here, I swear. I’ll be right back.”

He walked away as you watched nervously. Jiyong had almost gotten all the way to the tall man before he’d even realized he wasn’t alone. As he lifted his face you were struck by his features. The soft curve of his chin emphasized the sharp angles of his jaw. His thick eyebrows were shaped with a peak that expressed a mischievousness, matching the cheshire curve of his lips. He smiled when he saw Jiyong as if he knew him, like he wasn’t some trespasser. It earned your curiosity, but you were too far to hear what they said when they spoke.

“Hades!” Pothos greeted the god cheerfully, “Friend, what are you doing here?”

“Shh,” he hissed, “Don’t. Please don’t say that name.”

“Oh..kay.” Pothos said confused, but not surprised. Hades always was a strange one. “Is it already that time of year?”

“No, I’m not here for inspections.” he said clearing his throat, “Why are you here?”

“I was just dropping off some new charges. Went by the pavillion earlier, you’ve got a heavy backlog. They were complaining that you’d disappeared. Where’ve you been?”

“Busy.” he said shortly, hoping that he wouldn’t give too much away.

“With a young woman, perhaps?” Pothos grinned, “Don’t think I didn’t notice your friend. She, who radiates life like no other creature in this realm. Who is she?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The other gods mouth fell in sudden realization, “You don’t want me to use your name because she doesn’t know you’re Hades. That is...curious.”

“No, she doesn’t know and if she finds out from anyone but me,” he said pointedly, “I will tear the wings off that individuals back with my own two hands.”

“Ah, you know they’ll only grow back.” Pothos grinned, “What’s your fake name?”

“You don’t need to know, since you won’t be speaking to her.”

With a charming smile Pothos raised his hand and beckoned you over to them. He turned back to his friend as you started walking towards them, and muttered “Tick Tock.”

“Jiyong.” He groaned just before you stepped up beside him.

“Well hello, darling. Beautiful day, don’t you think?”

You looked to Jiyong who nodded and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’ve been enjoying it so far.”

“And Jiyong here, he’s been treating you kindly?” he asked.

“The kindest I’ve ever been treated.”

“Oh,” Pothos raised an eyebrow in amusement before looking between the two of you for a moment. “Seems I’ve already done my job here then.”

“Great, so you can leave.” Jiyong said with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, of course, I’ll give you two some privacy.” he winked.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, as he started to take his leave. He turned to you expectantly and you stuttered out, “Can I... is it rude to ask?”

“The wings?” Pothos smiled. You’d noticed the cream colored feathers peeking out from beneath his jacket when you were watching the conversation earlier and had been curious about them ever since. More than anything you wanted to know what they felt like. “Of course. Anything for a friend of...Jiyong. Let me shake them out for you.”

He took his bag off his shoulder and handed it to Jiyong who scowled, and then did the same with his jacket. The hoodie he was wearing had massive slits down the back to account for the wings, which was one of your questions answered. As he stood there the wings grew from the length of his spine to the length of his entire body. He shook his shoulders, ruffling the feathers before expanding them out completely in a dramatic flourish. The power of them blowing your hair like a gust of wind in a storm. Jiyong made a noise at the back of his throat in annoyance.

“They’re all yours.” He called over his shoulder.

You ran your hand down the smooth feathers, they felt like silk against your fingertips. Pothos shivered at the feeling and you pulled your hand away quickly, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that was fine. It felt lovely.” He turned to face you, his smile faded into something sad. As his wings shrunk down to their previous size, he lifted his large hand to your face. He brushed a loose piece of hair from your cheek and let his palm rest on it for a moment before saying, “I’m just afraid that you’re one of mine, darling. For that I’m terribly sorry.”

“She’s not.” Jiyong snapped, tossing the bag and jacket into Pothos arms before snatching your wrist in his hand to pull you behind him, as if to protect you. “We have to go now.”

“I’ve been wrong before.” he said and looked at Jiyong with pity in his eyes, only making the other god more angry. “Have a wonderful day.”

You didn't even get a second to say goodbye before you were being dragged down the length of the creek. Jiyong didn’t stop or speak until Pothos was out of view, until you’d rounded a curve that opened to a length of the valley that was completely covered in red rose bushes. You dug your heels into the ground, effectively halting his sudden rampage. There were small pebbled paths on both sides of the creek, but beyond that it was rose bushes as far as the eye could see. Not just on the floor of the valley, but growing along the walls of it as well.

“Would you…calm down?” you asked, trying to focus on him, but getting too distracted by the sight before you.

“Do not touch them.” he said seeing the longing look in your eyes.

Your jaw clenched at the command and you immediately wanted to defy him. “Why not?”

“Roses have thorns.”

“I think I’ll live with a couple of scratches.” you said sarcastically.

“They’re poisonous.” he responded quickly.

Your nose scrunched, “Seriously?”

“It is the underworld.” he shrugged. He held out his hand for you to grab, you accepted without any more of a fuss. “Here, you can hop on your rocks.”

He walked on the bank between you and the roses, acting like a barrier. You kept your hand in his as you continued your leaping game.

“Who was that guy?” you asked after some time had passed and you were sure that Jiyong had calmed down from his previously frazzled state. “Is he an angel?”

Jiyong scoffed beside you, amused at the thought, “He wishes.”

“He seemed very nice,” you said thoughtfully, “except...what do you think he meant? When he said you’re one of mine.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not true.”

“Ji…”

“Drop it.” he snapped. You stopped on the last rock you’d landed on and pulled your hand from his. He looked over at you with a sigh, “I’m sorry. Just- it doesn’t matter what he said, if it’s wrong. He’s just a glorified gardener anyway. I don’t want you needlessly worrying about things.”

“Fine.” you said and stubbornly started moving forward without reaching over for his hand again.

“Thank you.” he tucked his hands in his pockets sounding just as grumpy as you.

The feeling of an argument between the two of you didn’t sit well in your stomach. After a moment of silence you called over your shoulder, “You said he’s a gardener?”

“Yeah.”

“And all of these roses, are they his?” Jiyong hummed in confirmation, “He’s not that great at it. Most of these are sad and droopy.”

He hummed again and you sighed dramatically and turned on your heel to face him.

“Are you mad or-” your sneaker slipped on a bit of wet rock. You tried to correct yourself but failed and your eyes blew wide open as you started to fall backwards into the bushes beside the creek.

Jiyong lunged forward and reached out to catch you. His arms kept you from falling completely into the bushes, but your back and head had still dipped into the flowers. Several petals brushed against your neck and cheeks. It was one of the worst noises you’d ever heard in your entire life. A chorus of voices crying out in agony crashed around you. Endless wailing that made you feel like your own heart was breaking in your chest. He pulled you from the flowers as fast as he possibly could, and as soon as you were no longer touching them the screaming was silenced. It was too little too late as the pain from the roses rang in your ears and echoed through your veins.

Back on your own two feet you brushed your cheek with the back of your hand and brought it away with a few drops of blood smeared across it. “Am I going to die?”

“Why would you die? Where are you hurt?” he asked looking over your body in a quick inspection.

“You said they were poisonous.”

“That was a lie,” he confessed, “I just didn’t want you to touch them. I didn't want you to hear them.”

“Explain.” you demanded. Your heart was aching in your chest and you thought you might cry soon, though you weren’t sure why. The sudden strike of emotions was unsettling and you need a reason for it all.

“Each rose in this valley is a soul.” you gasped lightly at his words, “This is the valley of mourning. Every soul here wasted their lives on unrequited love or died of a broken heart.”

“Your friend… he plants these souls. He said I was one of his. What does that mean? Which one am I?” you asked sounding frantic, “Heartbroken or unrequited?”

“Neither. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You won’t rest here.”

“No, I won’t! I won’t rest because I’ll be in agony for all of eternity.” you said brushing a tear from your cheek.

Jiyong grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look at him, “This place is not for you.”

“He said…” you’d lost your grasp, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Things change, people are wrong all the time.”

You gasped out a breath between sobs, “God I can’t stop crying. What’s happening to me? I’m so sad.”

“It’s this fucking place.” He muttered, angry at himself. He should have never brought you.

He pulled you into his arms and you cried into his shoulder freely. You couldn’t understand why you had gotten so upset so quickly. As if all of the souls that belonged to the petals that touched your flesh had reached inside of you and you were subsequently feeling each and every one of their hearts breaking over and over again.

“They didn’t do anything wrong.” you sniffed after a minute, stepping back.

“Who?”

“The souls,” you answered, “They didn’t do anything wrong, but they’re still stuck here in agony all alone for the rest of eternity. No one here to listen to their pain or comfort them.”

Reaching out your hand, you cupped a single rose in your palms. There was a gently weeping that rang out around you. It was a soft sound and wrapped around you like a blanket. The weeping soul seeped inside of you. You learned its story, and you cried for it, cried with it. The idea that there were countless others surrounding you, that you would be joining them, made you feel sick.

Jiyong grabbed your hands in his, “Don’t do this. It will just upset you and nothing will change. This is their fate.”

“And mine.” you muttered.

“Not yours.” he said sternly. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”

Sniffling the entire way, you walked with him out of the valley. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by it and he didn’t seem to be at all. There were several times on the way out that he had to push flowers out of the way so you could pass by and not even once did he flinch. It was like he couldn’t even hear what you heard. It left you with a feeling of weakness, being so sensitive to it all and you were starting to worry, imagining that it would only get worse from here. That hadn’t even been where people were purposely tortured.

The valley opened up to a vast empty field of long grass. The wide open space before you felt like a relief, and you let out a long deep sigh. You hadn’t even realized the valley was making you feel so claustrophobic until you were actually out of it. Looking out over the emptiness, you felt fine, you felt really good. There was nothing there that looked remotely scary. No ominous movement in the grass to indicate any creatures lurking in wait. Nothing but an empty grass wasteland, and just beyond it a massive rocky hill with a large gaping hole at its base. The entrance to a cave.

“Tatarus.” you said quietly, “It’s so close.”

“I can’t lie. It’s going to be very difficult for you to make it through the field of punishment. You’re already in a weakened state by the valley of mourning.” he looked over at you and you tried to hide your still shaking hands, “I’m not comfortable taking you any further.”

“I’m stronger than you think I am.” you argued stubbornly, though you didn’t entirely feel it in your chest. “And it’s just some grass.”

Jiyong held back a groan, “It’s not a matter of thinking you’re weak or strong. I know very well this won’t be easy for you and I’m worried. I don’t want you to feel even a miniscule amount of the pain that this place can bring. It is inexplicably worse than mourning.”

“Why are you only worried about me and not about yourself?” you asked. Jiyong froze, unable to respond. “Because you think you’re so much stronger than me? Well, you’re not. So let’s just go.”

He sighed and followed behind you as you pushed forward, the long grass brushing against your hips. For the first time since he met you, he was angry with you. Angry that you wouldn’t just listen to him. That you had to be so persistent and curious. Two of the things he loved most about you, coming around to torture him. More than you he was angry with himself, realizing that he pushed you too much. Ever since he realized that there was something in you that was more than mortal he’d been curious too. Putting you into positions that would test you without your knowledge, wanting to know how much you could take.

It wasn’t until your reaction to the valley of mourning that he realized there was still a large part of you that was mortal, and that could be affected by the magic of this world. Now he was worried for you, scared that this would go too far. The closer a person got to the entrance of the cave to Tartarus the more powerful the energy became. Even Hades himself hated going down to the caves, they left a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt uneasy letting you keep on ahead, knowing that soon you would feel it overcome you. He was overwhelmingly concerned that it would change you, drive you mad. It would be his fault if you didn’t come back from this. His fault for being too lenient with you. His fault for not telling you who he was, again and again and again, keeping the secret to himself out of selfishness and fear that you wouldn’t accept him for who he was. The worst part, he’d realized, was that all you had done this entire time was trust him to protect you and he was going to fail.

After you were more than halfway through the field you slowed in the grass, your hand brushing against a bush with tiny white flowers. You’d seen and passed by several of the same kind of bushes as you walked through the field. You wondered what the plant was every time you saw it but had been reluctant to ask Jiyong about it since you’d went off on him. It’s all you thought about on the walk though the grass. It left you feeling like a jerk and you genuinely believed you deserved that. He didn’t think you were weak, you were just being a brat. All he’d done was try to keep you safe, and all you did in return was make it exceedingly more difficult for him with every choice you made.

“Do you know what this is?” you asked, trying to ease the awkward tension between the two of you.

He stepped up beside you and looked over at the small flowerette and hummed thoughtfully, “That’s hemlock.”

You snapped your fingers away from the flower, “Like the poison.”

“I think it’s only deadly if you ingest it,” he said with a small smile as you rubbed your fingers against your jeans. “Just don’t, you know, lick your hands or anything.”

“Is each tiny flower a tortured soul?” you ignored his joke, and looked over at him, thinking that just maybe you were finally understanding.

Jiyong shook his head, “No, the hemlock is planted here to poison the soil.”

Suddenly you were pushed forward from behind, your chest slamming into Jiyongs shoulder. You turned quickly to see a man walking passed you. After staring at him for a long while, wondering where he had come from, you turned back around.

“Jerk... who was that?” You asked annoyed.

“Who was who?” Jiyong asked looking over his shoulder to try and see who you were talking about.

When you looked away from Jiyong you gasped. More people were walking towards the two of you. No one said anything, no one acknowledged you were even there, they just kept pushing passed. As the two of you stood there in the long grass, more and more people seemed to be filtering passed you, all of them in the opposite direction. You felt like a fish swimming up stream.

“Who are all these people?” you asked already feeling your blood tickle with anxiety. “Where’d they even come from?”

“Stay close, don’t let me go.” he said quietly sounding more than concerned

“Let’s keep going.” you said sliding your hands down Jiyongs arm to lock your hand with his. “We should try and get out of this crowd.”

“Stay with me. Y/n? Stay with me.” He said as you walked, he already sounded far away.

“Yeah, of course.”

You kept your body tucked as close to his as you could while you pushed in the opposite direction of the oncoming hoard of people. The further you walked the more people there seemed to be. The swarm just continued to grow thicker and thicker. And every last person that walked passed you was ruthlessly inconsiderate as they jostled you around, making it more and more difficult to keep close to Jiyong. Suddenly it was just your fingernails, dug deep into the fabric of his jacket, keeping you two together. That was until one final heavy body pushed through you, your hand dropped for half a second before you were frantically reaching out, trying to find him again.

“No.” You whimpered, “No. Oh no.”

Trying as hard as you could you searched the crowd to try and find him again but it was useless. You couldn’t differentiate a single thing in front of you. It was a massive blur of movement. Your stomach cramped with anxiety as you tried to push forward. Every once in a while you would catch sight of a back of a head that looked like his, or a flash of a jacket that looked like the one he’d been wearing. Crying out his name you’d push and push through the crowd to get to him, but could never quite reach him before he disappeared again. Half given up at one point you figured he would be pushing forward, so you should just push forward too and you could meet where the crowd broke.

It had to break, there had to be an end to this. Even if you couldn’t see it. Even if the fact that you couldn’t see it terrified you even more than the crowd itself. As you continued to push through you could feel bruises growing on your arms as you were slammed with elbows and shoulders. Every brush of another body against yours made your skin crawl. Your gut had long since twisted into a hard rock and you could feel your chest starting to tighten as well. The group of people seemed to be growing, and the crowd was tightening around you. You gasped for air, stretching your neck to the sky but you weren’t tall enough to break through to the fresh oxygen you needed. Lungs tight, you gasped for breath and you pushed forward. You couldn’t stop, you had to keep going.

Still trudging your way through the crowd something clipped your foot and you crashed down to your knees. Several feet trampled over your hands before you were able to pull them into your chest. The crowd was moving so heavily that you were surrounded by a thick cloud of dust, making you choke as it hit your lungs. Now you had to worry not just about suffocating but also about being trampled to death. You sat in the soft dirt, pulled your knees to your chest, and tucked your head beneath your arms.

“Go away. Go away. Go away.” you gasped through panicked sobs.

You stayed tucked in a ball for what felt like forever, as legs brushed against you, and feet tried to walk over you. Stepping harshly on your arms and back. You could feel how raw your forearms were from where people had dug their shoes into your skin before slipping off of you. You could feel blood dripping down your arms Was this it, you’d wondered, had you died? Was this how you would be tortured for eternity? You wondered what the true punishment was. The tearing pain you felt in your gut, like everything inside of you was being ripped from you? Being trapped in this endless sea of people who were treating your body like a step stool that was just in the way? Was it how alone you felt despite being surrounded by all of these people? The helplessness of it all?

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up at the clear sound of your name. The field had cleared of people. The once long grass had been marched down into mulch. You weren’t sure when he’d arrived but before you, very unexpectedly, stood Jiho about a yard away.

“What? What are you doing here?” you asked through soft sobs.

He stepped towards you, kneeling down to cup your face in his hands, “I heard you were here. I came to find you.”

“I lost him.” as the words fell from your lips it felt like something ripped in your chest and you cried out in pain as another wave of agony passed over you.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Jiho said wrapping his arms around you, pressing kisses against your tearstained face, “I’ve got you now.”

“No...I lost him.” Another scream escaped you. It was as if every time you said or even thought the words you were struck with another lightning bolt of pain that rippled through your entire body.

“I’m right here, you’re not alone anymore. You’re safe.” Jiho said over and over, trying to pull you tighter against him.

“No!” you screamed shoving him away from you and into the dirt. “Not you! God, it’s hurts so bad.”

“What do you need?” Jiho asked.

“Help me find him! Or kill me!” you begged.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” he asked standing up and stepping back, a look of sheer terror on his face.

“It hurts. I’m being ripped apart.” your eyes had been screwed shut with pain, but you opened them, hoping to curb some of the anxiety in your stomach. If you could just see that physically you were fine you could work on some of the other ailments. Everything was not fine.

“No, I mean...what is happening?” Jiho asked again horrified as he stared down at you.

Blinking away tears to try and see clear you saw bits of what looked like red confetti falling in front of you. For a brief moment you were so confused by why there was confetti there that you were able to distract yourself from the pain. Focusing on it for just a moment longer you realized that something wasn’t right. The confetti wasn’t falling down it was floating upwards. It wasn’t confetti at all. Your eyes followed the tiny droplets of blood back down to its source. There was a wet patch of red soaked through your shirt, beads of blood seeping through the fabric one by one and floating up into the sky above. Your breathing became more and more panicked. You tore at the cotton shirt. A muted scream tried to escape your mouth as you stared down at the gaping hole in your chest.

“Help me.” You begged looking up at Jiho, but he was useless, frozen in fear. “Help me! Help!”

You pressed your shaky palms against the wound trying to keep anything else from slipping out. With wide eyes you watched a gold cord slip from between your trembling fingers. Even though you didn’t know what it was or why it was a part of you, you could feel that this cord was important. You knew you couldn’t just let it go.

“No. No!” you cried out as you watched the cord snake its way out of your chest. Following the movement of the blood, it started to float up and away from you. It kept coming and coming, a morbid magic trick. You tried to grab the chord, to pull it back. Slick with blood your hands just slipped over it fruitlessly. “I need that. That’s mine!”

Finally the rope ended and you watched helpless as it lifted into the sky and disappeared into the clouds above. Body still aching in pain, you laid on the ground and cried. Any hope that had been left inside of you had been torn away with the gold cord.

“Let me die.” you closed your eyes and whimpered, “I want to die, let me die.”

You could feel Jiho’s fingers brush over your cheeks as he held your face in his hands and he whispered against your forehead, “Fight it.”

Opening your eyes again Jiho was there, but he was feet away from you, still frozen. However you could feel hands soft against your cheeks. Lifting your hands, you placed them where there should have been nothing, but you could distinctly feel fingers. Moving your hands down there were wrists, and then you squeezed an arm but still you saw nothing in front of you.

“Jiyong?” you choked out.

“There you go, come on.” his voice was a whisper in the back of your mind, “Fight it. Come back.”

“Where?” you cried, “I didn’t go anywhere! You left me!”

“I thought you were so strong before, huh? What happened, you can’t cut it? Not as strong as you thought?” he was taunting you.

“I am, you asshole!” you snapped, you could hear his laugh echoed around you. “I don’t know what to do. Jiyong, I’m really scared.”

“I know you are, it’s okay. Fight it.” he repeated, his voice stronger now, “Come on, come back to me. I know you’re strong enough. I know you can do this.”

You looked back over at Jiho and then to the empty space in front of you. “This isn’t real.”

“It’s not real.” he confirmed.

“I have to go back to what’s real.” you whispered, “I have to go back to you. You’re real.”

“I’m real and you’re real. We’re right here together. Me and you.”

“Just us?”

“Just me and you.” his thumb brushed your cheek.

When you looked again Jiho was gone. The grass that had been trampled down to dirt was swaying tall around you. You let out a deep sigh, and pushed yourself up so you were sitting in the field, “Okay. I can do this...”

You tried to imagine him back in front of you, the way you had at the beach, but it wouldn’t work. You could see bits and pieces but never a clear picture. Something was missing but you didn’t know what. Lifting your face to the sky you looked at the clouds for a long while trying to figure out what to do, hoping they’d spell out some answer for you.

Then you saw it, the gold cord, and it started to float back down. It coiled into a ball in the space before you. In complete reverse of what had happened to you, you began to rebuild Jiyong with the pieces that fell from the sky. Your lips trembled once he was finally whole again in front of you, unsure if this was just another vision that would fade.

Watching your eyes closely he tilted his head and then smiled, “Hi.”

“Did I do it? Is it really you?” you asked. He nodded and your body shot forward like a bullet. Throwing your arms around him you squeezed him tighter than you’d ever held anyone or anything before and buried your face in his neck. “Don’t you ever leave me like that again!”

“I was here the whole time.” he promised, “I never left your side, I swear.”

“Really?” you asked sitting back down in front of him, “What the hell was that?”

“Your worst fear. If you can’t make it out at some point in the nightmare you die and then it starts at the beginning. It cycles like that over and over for eternity.” he said solemnly. “What was your fear? What did you see? You just kept screaming, begging me to kill you. It was fucking awful.”

“You didn’t see it? You didn’t hear anything else?” you asked feeling slightly embarrassed. That meant, if you’d deciphered it correctly, your greatest fear in the whole world was losing Jiyong. It seemed ridiculous to you to even think that could be your one true fear. How had he become so important to you? What was the chord symbolic of?

“No, why? What happened?”

“I, um, I los-” you paused remembering the last time you made an unrequited confession to him. You’d told him you loved him and he hadn’t even acknowledged it. If you told him that losing him was your worst fear and that it felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest, he’d probably run. You weren’t sure you could blame him. Instead you said, “hangnails.”

“Hangnails?”

“Yeah, just kept going and going. Thin little strip flesh pulling and pulling until I didn’t have any skin left.” you lied, trying to make it sound like something torturous.

“That’s disgusting.” he said making a face.

“Super gross.” you agreed and looked around, “Ji, where are all the souls?”

“Each blade of grass in this field is a soul.” he said slowly as if to soften the blow. “They’re planted like seeds. The hemlock seeps into them, it’s what keeps the fear cycling.”

“That’s horrible.” you muttered looking around at the countless blades of grass, knowing what each of those souls were feeling right now, knowing that some of their fears would have left them even worse off than you had been. You felt like throwing up, but instead you started to cry again. Jiyong wrapped his arms around you and you cried onto his shoulder for a second time in as many hours.

“I know,” he whispered against your ear as his hand rubbed up and down your back, “It’s not meant to be nice. It’s not meant for souls as good and gentle as yours. These were not good souls, they’re among the worst. I promise you, they’re not worth your sympathy.”

After a moment more of crying you pulled away and wiped your face. “Sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“You’re fine.” he grinned. “Now will you please just let me take you out of this place for real?”

“No, Ji,” you said and looked across the small bit of grass that stood between you and the mouth of the cave that led to Tatarus, “I said all the way. I meant all the way.”

“Are you insane? After all of that? Are you kidding me? No. I won’t let you, not this time. You will listen to me! We are getting out of here!” he yelled, wide eyed and furious. You held it for as long as you could, which honestly wasn’t long, but you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You are...you’re fucking joking.”

“Yeah, this is miserable, get me out of here. Please.” you laughed.

“What a little psycho...” he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief as he stood up.

“Help me.” you whined lifting your hands up.

He grabbed your hands and pulled you upward to your feet. A little lightheaded you wobbled forward and into his chest. He looked down at you genuinely concerned, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just a little woozy.” you smiled up at him, “You should carry me, in your arms like a baby.”

“Um, no.” He scoffed and pulled your arm over his shoulder.

“Fine, wounded soldier, just toss me over your shoulder.” he snorted with laughter as you started walking, “Piggyback? You can be Dora, I’ll be your talking backpack as we adventure through the underworld.”

“No way.” he said looking over at you sternly. “You wanted to come here so bad, you gotta walk out on your own two feet. You can do it, you’re strong. You don’t need me.”

“Just because I don’t need you doesn’t mean I don’t want you.” you muttered more to yourself, but Jiyong caught it. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, and you choked out, “Y-Your help. Want your help.”

He sighed, “Do you really want me to carry you out of here?”

“No.” you laughed, shaking your head. “This is good, I like this.”

You moved your arm down around his waist and hooked your finger through a belt loop on his pants. He shrugged, tightening his grip around your hip. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

The only thing you were sure about was that your nightmare wasn’t the only thing making your legs weak.

#kwon jiyong scenario #g dragon scenario #big bang scenarios #kpop scenarios #Everlong

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a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan · 5 years

Text

LinkedUniverse Fanfiction Ch. 15: Painting the Town

Stop! You’ve Violated the Law!

So, you’ve stumbled upon this original post for my Linked Universe fanfiction. That’s okay, it happens to everyone. As of March 2021, I’ve uploaded the entirety of this fanfic to my Archive of Our Own page. Along with finally giving the story a name–Oops! All Links: A Linked Universe Story–I made substantial edits to some of the chapters. These range from minor stylistic revisions to fixing a gaping plot hole that kinda completely broke the character conflict in the earlier chapters. I also renamed and renumbered (but not reordered) the chapters. Specifically, this is now Chapter 17: To Sell a Butterfly (Pendant).

The AO3 iterations of these chapters are the definitive versions. So, if you would like to read this fanfiction, please do so on AO3, right here. With this embedded link. Hehe. Geddit? Link?

Note: My screen name on AO3 is FrancisDuFresne. Yes, that is me. I am not plagiarizing myself.

Anyway, for posterity’s sake, the rest of the original post is below the cut.

It’s finally here! Wow! ... If you thought the long wait would end with a chapter the scale of “Fire,” you’ll be sorely disappointed. Sorry, folks. Still, now we finally get to see more of Selggog and the Links’ quest. When we’re talking my fan narrative, what can beat the hijinx of the Heroes of Wind and Twilight? Word Count: 1576

“So why’d you come with me, instead?” Wind asked.

Twilight looked down to his friend and shrugged. “I didn’t want to sit around waiting for Wild to find weapons he liked. Potion shopping beats that, at least.”

Wind glanced upward at passing shop signs as they walked down one of Selggog’s many busy streets. The others sent them to resupply on potions. Hyrule had finished the last of their stock following their skirmish with the Hinox. The two of them had been searching for an apothecary for the past half hour.

The elder of them sighed. “We should ask someone.”

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” Wind countered. He was jovially bouncing about on the balls of his feet with each step. “Having absolutely no idea where you’re going makes it a little adventure!”

“Aren’t we already on an adventure?”

Wind frowned. He clasped his hands behind his head and looked up. White, fluffy clouds dotted the otherwise clear sky. “Yeah, I guess,” he said somewhat dejectedly. Then, more chipper than before, “Well, it can be a side quest. How about that?”

“’Side quest?’ Kind of a silly name for it.”

“Yeah? Well… I like it.”

Twilight let out a bark of laughter. “Maybe it’ll stick.”

Some passersby knocked shoulders with the Links as the streets became busier. “Ack!” Wind grunted. “You know,” he called out to someone ahead who had rammed into him, “wouldn’t kill you to say sorry!”

“Shhh,” Twilight hushed sharply. “We don’t want—“ he was cut off by someone bashing his shoulder—"unneeded attention.”

Wind rubbed his shoulder and looked up to his friend. “You think they’re always this in a rush?”

“Dunno. I’m not used to city life.”

“Yeah,” Wind said. He thought back to Windfall Island, which he used to think of as a metropolis. “Gotta say this place is a bit bigger than I’m used to.”

Twilight patted his pockets. Satisfied everything was where it should be, he glanced at his partner. “Just make sure no one filches anything. You have your wallet, right?”

With a pffft, Wind checked his own pockets over. “Of course I d—”

A pause. “Wind?” Twilight asked. He stopped walking.

The youngest hero looked up at his friend with a sheepish smile. He raised his arms in a guilty sort of half-shrug. “Wind,” Twilight said slowly, “Don’t tell me you—”

“Yep.”

“By Ordona…” he cursed, smacking his forehead. He thought that over. Why did I just hurt myself? I didn’t do anything wrong. He promptly smacked Wind on the back of the head.

“Ow! What the heck?”

“What did we tell you?!”

“To watch out for pickpockets…” Wind admitted with his head hung, kicking at a pebble on the road.

“And did you?!”

Wind looked up. His wide eyes seemed to burn with anger Twilight had never seen. “No, Twi!” he shouted back. “I didn’t! So can you stop yelling at me and making me feel like crap so we can go find it?!”

Twilight was about to fire back, then paused. For all Wind had been through, he was still just a kid. He sighed and looked around. Some people had stopped and were staring at them. “Well?” he called out to them.

They shrugged and went back to bustling down the street on their errands. When Twilight turned back to his friend, he found him breathing deeply with his eyes closed. “Hey,” he began, “I didn’t mean t—”

“Stop,” Wind interrupted. He opened his eyes and met Twilight’s gaze. “Just because I’m cheery most of the time,” he whispered. Twilight could barely hear him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings like everybody else.”

“I—”

“Just remember that.”

Twilight had never seen the youngest Link upset enough to yell. He really had struck a nerve. “Okay,” he said. “I will.”

Wind’s expression softened. “Thank you. Now let’s find my wallet. What’re we gonna do?”

“I would suggest we ask Sky to borrow the Master Sword for its dowsing ability.” He considered this. “But even if it was willing to help, there are so many wallets in this town that it probably couldn’t pick yours out of the crowd.”

A thought struck Wind. “What about your wolf sense?”

Twilight looked around. The streets were packed with people going about their business. He remembered how the residents of Castle Town reacted to seeing his beastly form. “No. I don’t want to scare all these people.”

“Fair,” Wind replied. “But what else can we do?”

“Uh…” he muttered, wracking his brains. “I… I don’t know.”

Wind’s jolted to attention as if shocked by a yellow ChuChu. The sudden movement made his partner flinch. “What if I just earn back all the money that was stolen?” Wind suggested, thrusting his arms down, palms up, as if pointing out something totally obvious.

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “That might actually work…” he admitted pensively. “How much was in there?”

Silence. Well, at least between the two heroes. The townspeople were loud and rowdy as ever. “Um…” Wind said, clearly stalling. “Not too much.”

“Don’t dick around with me. How much?”

“About two-fifty?”

“That’s a lot of smashed pots,” Twilight joked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “How do you plan on earning that much?”

The young seafarer dug in his pouch and pulled out a necklace. “I’ve got some treasures I can sell. How many people here would buy a chintzy necklace with a butterfly pendant?”

“With this many people, hopefully at least a couple.”

“How much should we charge?”

“How many do you have?”

“Seven.”

Twilight nodded. “Anything else?”

Wind shook his head. “Some trinkets, feathers, a lot of junk.”

“Right. Well, let’s get started.”

“Hoi!” Wind called out to the crowd. “Beautiful butterfly necklaces here! Twenty-five rupees apiece!”

No one walked over to them. The crowds just kept moving by. Undeterred, Wind repeated his sales call even louder. This turned some heads, but nobody came. He tried once more. The second-floor shutters of a nearby building slammed open. A disheveled old man in a sleeping cap poked his head out. “Quit yer yapping!” he shouted down to the Links. “People are trying to sleep!”

The two heroes glanced at each other, paused a moment, then shrugged in unison. Wind hooked his thumbs on his belt and shifted his weight to one leg. “Guess that’s out the window,” he said.

Twilight let out a frustrated sigh. If he had just been more careful, we’d have potions by now, he thought bitterly. No, stay focused. We need to figure this o—

“Oh!” Wind exclaimed, again startling his friend. “Let’s find a shop that will buy some of my stuff!”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure most shops won’t buy off strangers. They’re trying to sell their junk, not buy yours. Think how fast they’d go bankrupt.”

Wind shook his head. “No no no, I mean a treasure teller! Someone who deals in treasures. There was one on one of the islands I sailed to. I’m sure there’s one around here.”

“Alright,” Twilight said, “how are we gonna find one? Search every street? That didn’t quite work for the apothecary.”

“Look for a sign with a rupee on it,” Wind replied, scanning the street for such a sign. “There’s gotta be one aro—OH! Look!”

Wind pointed out to the building directly across the street from them. Sure enough, the storefront had a multitude of rupees painted all over it. Twilight sighed in relief. “That was easier than expected.”

“I wouldn’t get too excited. We have no idea what they’ll offer for my stuff. These guys can be fickle.”

“Right.”

The two heroes crossed the street and entered the store. The walls were covered in a bizarre wallpaper filled with celestial bodies and distorted floral patterns. The shelves immediately drew their eyes. Treasures and spoils lined the perimeter of the store. Everything from golden statuettes to fine china to jewelry to precious stones rested upon the shelves. A beaded curtain hung in the doorway between the store and some back room.

While Wind marveled over the treasures, Twilight strode to the ornately-decorated counter. It was adorned with an equally beautiful silver bell. He gently tapped its button. A soft, pleasing ding rang out. No one came after a few seconds, so he rang it again, a little harder this time. He strained to hear any movement in the back room but was left wanting.

By now, Wind had refocused and walked up beside his friend. They glanced at each other. A look of confusion and mild annoyance passed between their eyes. Wind shrugged. “Hello?” he called slightly louder than the second bell ring. Nothing.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbled with a huff. He hooked his thumbs in his belt again. “Maybe no one is here?”

Twilight shook his head. “With this kind of merchandise, the door would have been locked tight.”

“So why the heck is no one coming?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Alright, here goes,” Wind said with resignation lacing his voice. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Hoi!” he yelled. “Is anybody here?!”

Nothing. The hairs on the back of Twilight’s neck stood on end. His eyes narrowed. Honing his wolf senses had carried over somewhat to his Hylian form. Something didn’t sit right with him. “Quiet down. This doesn’t feel right.”

Just then, a drawling whisper came from directly behind the young heroes. “No need to be afraid, dearies…”

#linkeduniverse fanfiction #linkeduniverse #my own #my writing #painting the town #I'm back bitches

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agirlunderarock · 5 years

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Writing through the decade: 20 years old (2016)

So we’re going to by pass my first year of college, because really it was just more Hobbit stuff and that last fanfic, and deciding that I no longer liked first person point of view. 2016 was also the year I did National Novel Writing Month in November and the only year I’ve ever finished the word count. I say word count because I wrote 50,000 words and didn’t finish a story, but THATS OKAY because I have a lot of little scenes that I can use and put together later with newer ideas that I’m coming up with. This is a completely original piece, no fanfic this time. The selection under the cut is what I had intended to be a prologue. Some of you may have read this before, but this was the only scene I had fully planned when I started Nanowrimo

Prologue

Sunlight glares down onto the dirt paved roads leading between the local villages and the city at the heart of the kingdom. Some people continue go about their business as they normally would on any given day but most are shuffling excitedly along to the Grand Market. Occasionally a laugh will break through the buzz of chatter among the merchants and their customers lining the way. They are used to seeing the stone walls of the city, and the paved roads leading to the very center. The grand structures that line the skies do not amaze them, for the merchants this is something they see every day, and is something of an eyesore. However, for the fishermen of the docks, and the families of the farmers, even the stone homes and business lining the streets had them in a special kind of trance as the structures grew in size the closer they walked to the market square. Dirt paths fade into stones, and then into brick paved roads as the crowd makes their progression. This new world of stone, and swarming people was the perfect place for a young girl to explore.

Weaving in and around the towering adults, the young girl snakes her way through streets as she marvels at the people in colorful dresses and robes looking down from their windows. Many of them fill the streets as well, much to her liking, standing out like flowers in a sea of dead grass. Bright green eyes take in the large stone buildings, having only her small wooden home for reference, each one felt like a castle on its own. She continued to dodge and duck the arms of the people as she followed them to the Grand Market at the heart of the city.

Murmurings like “King’s judgement” and “traitor woman” where lost on to the young mind of the girl. She was far more interested in the ravens flying overhead, and the dog trying not to get trampled by clusters of people. What really caught the girl’s attention though, were the towers reaching up to the sky casting long shadows over the mob of citizens as they crowded the streets. She had only ever heard stories of the castle and its king and queen, now that she could see it for herself she wished to explore the long halls and scale its towers, so that if only for a moment she might believe herself to see all of the earth. It did not matter if her grandmother called out to her over the hum of the crowd. The girl wanted to explore this place and all that it had to offer, and she quickly slipped away from her grandmother’s side to slither her way to the far side of the court yard.

After nearly being trampled and tripping over uneven stones, the girl found herself standing in front of a large metal gate. Through the holes she could see men dressed in silver and gold from their head’s to their toes waiting for something. She squinted her eyes as the gleam from the armor glared at her harshly, but still she did not look away from the intriguing figures. Even the feeling that the men behind the mask where glaring at her as they moved across the inner yard did not deter her staring.

Only the tired voice to her right could pull her attention away, “Why do you not run little one?” A woman’s voice called gently cutting through the noisy buzzing of the crowd. The woman’s dark hair looked matted and greasy it fell along the side of her head where she was hunched over between two blocks of wood that had her hands and head sticking between them. Metal shackles, dusted with red, were bound around her wrist and ankles. “Won’t you come closer child? Don’t be shy little one, I won’t hurt you,” she said doing her best to turn her palms upward and wave the girl over to her.

Cautiously the girl walked over to the curious looking woman. The girl soon discovered bumps and dark purple spots covered the young woman’s face as she stepped closer. However, she decided it best not to comment on that and said instead pointed the to boards, “How’d you get your head stuck?” The girl did not understand how or why anyone would want to stand outside like that, though the purple blotches on the woman’s face showed that something had happened to put her out there. What the girl did not understand was why so many of the villagers and even the merchants were gathering in the market square, and part of her wondered if it had to do with the stranger woman before her.

The woman laughed ruefully at the girl’s question, “Sweet child, I’m not stuck by my own doing.” Though she was laughing as she spoke, her words sounded cold and bitter. The woman shifted trying to get more comfortable in her position making the chains jingle like many bells as she continued, “I was put here to wait for my time to come.” The woman did not look at the girl as she spoke, instead her dark eyes scanned the crowd of people as they gathered around something in the middle of square.

The girl tilted her head, her own dark curls falling off the side of her shoulder as she asked innocently, “Your time?” She really did not understand what he woman was talking about. Was she being punished? Was it time for her to go inside and get a bath to wash off the dirt and what looked like blood off her face? The girl turned to follow the gaze of the woman and stood on her tip toes to try to see what the people were gathering around in the middle of the square. The only thing she could see was a tall beam looming over the heads of the crowd, finding the shadow it cast was dreadful like a long claw looking to snatch people up. She frowned as the long dark streak dragged the sunlight away from the market place.

“My time to be given the King’s justice,” she answered her gentle tone slipping away with each word. “And you child? When will you meet your time?” the woman mused to herself, nothing thinking much about what that might mean to the young girl. She found the thought slightly amusing, that if she had not taken the action that she did, she might have many more years ahead of her much like the young girl. The not knowing what her future could be like was almost enough to make the woman regret all that she did. Almost. The woman sighed heavily looking into the clear frightened blue eyes of the child. “You of all people needn’t worry sweet one. No one knows when their time will come, not until the moment that it is presented to them…and still we can hope that moment will pass over us..”

The girl looked at her with wide and curious eyes. If she thought she knew what was going on before, she did not know anymore. The little girl shook her head, her dark curls bouncing lightly off her shoulders. The girl shifted her weight away from the woman looking at her wearily, but still her curiosity was peaked and she continued to linger near the beaten down woman. The girl spoke back in a small voice, “I don’t-“

“Shush child,” the woman interrupted though not harshly, “You needn’t be afraid. You time will not come yet. Not for many more winters I should think.”

The girl let out a small breath of relief at the woman’s words. She didn’t know for sure what the woman was talking about, but if it means that she would not have to see the tall wooden structure in the middle of the square again, then would be just fine with the girl. She looked back at the crowd squeezing into the market to gather around the large forbidding structure, and decided that she wanted nothing to do with either and sat down just below the woman’s hand. It suddenly occurred to the girl that maybe her new peculiar friend had an answer to the question that had been tugging at the girl’s mind since her grandmother walked her out of the house. “Why are those people going ‘round that tree?” the girl asked for lack of a better word for the tall wooden beam. She had never seen anything like it, the square, the “tree,” or even all of the people cramming into the market. It was all amazing in its own fearful way.

The woman felt a small bit of surprise that the girl sat down so close to her and gave a hint of a small smile. It was nice to know that in her final moments that at least there was some small bit of kindness to hope for. There would be one less person calling for her blood that afternoon. “They wish the disposal of a traitor.” They don’t care what the king does or doesn’t do anymore so long as he makes a show of it and tears them away from their miserable lives.” By the time the woman had finished talking her small smile pressed into a hard thin line. She knew the girl wouldn’t understand, at least not yet. There was still an innocent dream in her eyes, that kept her from seeing what this kingdom had become. She would learn, in time, but in the meantime the woman was more concerned with the sound of the grates opening from the castle yard.

Two large men in shining armor exited the yard and pushed their way through crowds of people. The woman knew what was happening. She shifted in her position trying to look at the castle walls, her tired eyes scanning what they could desperately hoping for some kind of sign that this was not her final moment. But there was none. Nothing, not a hint of a promise made long before. The woman let out a tired breath. Now was not the time to hope for anything, she knew this day would come, it was only a matter of time. She shifted again to look at the little girl sitting quietly, and almost looking happy. “When I tell you to go, leave. Do not stay in this place, do all you can to shield your eyes,” the woman said to the girl. If this was to be the woman’s final moments, she would try to do one last act of good, since her last one landed her in her position in the first place.

“What’s happening?” the girl asked looking up the woman and feeling a small sense of dread wash over her at seeing the fear pulling down the woman’s bruised brows and the corners of her mouth. That was enough to get the girl up on her feet again. “You- you want me to leave?” If the girl was honest she was not ready to leave yet, she didn’t think she would ever got the chance to see this place again and she was still curious. Perhaps she would leave the woman, and continue to explore or find her way into the castle yard and up into one of the soaring towers at end of high stone walls.

The girl did not get much of chance to think about what she wanted to do as her attention was captured by the two men as they pushed her aside to get to the woman. The girl landed on her but looking up at the men and her stomach twisting horribly as they moved to unlock the large lock keeping the two pieces of wood together. The girl wiped her face before giving a small gasp of surprise and firm hands picked her back up on her feet. She looked up into the withered and panicked faces of her grandparents, glad to have found her but worried by the scene unfolding before them. The girl opened her mouth so that she might introduce her family to her new curious friend, but when she turned around the men were fighting to bring the woman to her feet.

The woman cursed and spat at the men as they tried to drag her to her feet. They pulled on her chains and she yanked back thinking if she could open the cuts on her wrist and ankles that maybe she could slip herself free of the shackles that bound her for last several days. If she tried hard enough and fought through the black spots in her vision she might get the chain around the fat neck of one of the men, but before she could act a hard blow to her back knocked her forward and onto the ground.

She laid there a moment before locking eyes with the young girl looking at her through teary blue eyes. Two people, a silver haired man with skin like leather and a woman with silver streaks in her dark hair stood behind the girl trying to hold the little girl back. Tired eyes met with the two elderly ones, a silent plea to shield her and protect the girl from what would happen. Another blow to the woman’s side, likely one of the men kicking her, she groaned and curled up for a moment before forcing herself to stumble to her feet. She looked back at the young girl and flashed a hint of a smile and a firm nod to tell her to turn away. The woman then cast a long look to the walls lining the market, and any hope she had of not meeting this end was squashed.

Once again the girl did not understand what was happening and the sight of the woman being kicked to the ground scared her. She watched the men push the woman through the crowd and toward the center of the square. Her small face scrunched up with concern as the shouting of the people grew louder like the angry buzzing of bees when their nest was disturbed. The girl didn’t want to be there anymore, her desire to explore was crushed under the weight of roaring crowd.

The woman kept her head held high even as the men forced through the crowd. She did her best to tune out the jeers and shouts as she made her march to a large wooden platform at the heart of the crowd. Her mind momentarily drifted off to how the market looked only a few days before. As she looked out among the angry spitting faces she could almost see the merchants’ children playing in the streets, as their parents traded and shopped for brightly colored fabrics and food rich in color. Even the villagers, who rarely get to see the market when it was at its peak walked about the outer roads in their quiet yet resentful way.

Nothing was wrong in their minds, at least on the surface. The woman already knew there was much anger for the king and all those who served him, the spit in her face made that very clear. Though as she searched the crowd now, she could still find those both rich and poor who stood silently, ignoring the spectacle the two guards were making of her, watching the small balcony that creeped out over the market. She knew who they were looking at, she didn’t have to turn to know. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back. Instead she stopped in front of steps that lead to gallows and straightened her back and shoulders so that she could proudly walk across the platform.

The girl did her best to try to see the woman as she parted the crowd. She found that to be very difficult, to look around the many towering bodies and fight against the hold of her grandmother and grandfather. The girl watched as the woman rose above the heads of the people, her face stern and blank. However, the girl thought she could see the woman looking for someone or something, as her eyes never went to the crowd but to windows of the shops and homes lining the walls of the market and then to the walls of the castle. Apparently not finding what she was looking for, the little girl watched as the woman stepped up onto a box underneath the ugly looking claw structure. The little girl feared it would pluck the woman right off her feet and toss her into the trembling mass of people. A cheer went up from the people as a rope was draped around the woman’s neck, like a massive thick necklace. The girl’s brows furrowed as the men tightened the necklace, and much to the concern of the girl, she noticed it was attached to the claw.

“People of Hola Sveit-“ started a deep booming voice from up above making the young girl jump, “-before you stands a treacherous woman.” The girl craned her head to try to look for the source of the voice. The rest of his words were lost to her as she scanned the walls and windows. The girl wanted to know if that was the person the woman seemed so afraid of, if that voice was the king. She had never seen the king, before and a small part of her was excited to discover if it was him talking. Finally, her eyes landed on the balcony perched on the castle wall. From where she stood on the ground she could just make out the bright colors of the King’s robes and Queen’s dress. The King threw his hand out to gesture to the crowd as it erupted in loud cheers, “My people, I hand her to you!”

The girl’s eyes went wide as she looked up into the grim faces of her grandparents thinking that the woman could go home with them based on the King’s words. However, their eyes were not on her, instead they were watching the woman as she continued to search the crowd for something, or someone. “What’s going to happen to her-?” the girl asked just as her grandmother pulled her close, and hiding her face in her skirts. The girl just wanted an answer she did not want to hide, she wanted to know what was going on. She fought against her grandmother’s embrace, wiggling and pushing to get free. There was a loud clanging noise and a silence fell over the crowd, just as the girl broke free. She turned and looked toward where the woman was once standing, only to gasp at the sight of her struggling. No matter how badly the girl wished to look away only her grandmother pulling her into herself again pulled her away from the gruesome sight.

#Writing through the decade #My writing #Sierra speaks #Sierra writes #original work

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siliquasquama · 5 years

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Elf Storage

This is the first short story I ever told anyone. I think I came up with it for a Boy Scout campfire. But I lost the original document somehow (no idea how, it ought to be on my computer and it isn’t! I am vexed! I am infuriated!), so this is the revised version that I came up with yesterday -- here it is, and enjoy it as you please.

So I used to have a job in this town. I used to be the second-shift front desk clerk for a self-storage facility.

It wasn’t a fancy job but it was a big job, at least I like to think. ‘Cause a lot of people need their stuff stored, right? You know, we’ve all got so much stuff these days – sometimes I wonder where everyone puts it! But my place was one place. And, you know, lots of people have more stuff to store than their apartment can hold – better a self-storage facility than tripping over a bunch of junk to get to the kitchen table, right?

Well anyway. This place, big tall square brick building, not dressed up very fancy. It had a big neon sign out on the top that said “Self Storage.” Big letters lit up in red.

And I’m working at the front desk alone because the only two people who really need to be there are the receptionist, a couple security guards, and the manager. It’s a pretty low-overhead kind of place. Good profit, and I get some of it.

So around about noon one fine cold day this guy comes walking in and he looks homeless. You know how you can tell sometimes, right? Wearing lots of clothes all at once, carrying a big bag of cans, face looking like all the world’s come right down on you, which, to be fair, it has. Well this guy didn’t have a big bag of cans and he wasn’t wearing all his clothing at once, but he did have that look on his face.

And he came up to me and he said, “I would like to store myself, please.”

And I said “Stop yanking my chain.”

And he said, “I’m not trying to yank your chain, I want to store myself.”

And I said, “Either tell me what you actually want to store or stop wasting my time and get out of here.”

And he said, “Look, can I speak to the manager?”

And I rolled my eyes and I went to bring the manager out, and the manager asked the guy if he could pay, and the guy brought out a big old wad of cash. Well that threw me for a loop. Where did this guy get a big old wad of cash if he was homeless? The way he explained it, he had a decent job and all, working at the dollar store and second shift at a fast food joint, but he still just couldn’t afford an apartment in this dumb city, you know how it is, especially since he had to help pay his sister’s medical expenses, and the motels didn’t want him around, and he got kicked out of the Salvation Army Shelter because – well he wasn’t going to explain that at all. So maybe this was a last ditch, you know, a wild shot in the dark. Better than sleeping on the cold street, right?

And I thought well that’s fair, and the manager said well that’s fair, but it’s not like our units have ventilation or anything. And he said he would leave the door open a few inches at the bottom.

I didn’t think the manager was going to go for it, but he did, and the fellow purchased a unit and promised he would pay extra if he was going to bring anyone else in. And by day he would be out and about, doing his work, and by night, before the third-shift clerk came in, he would come back, pay his fee, give me a high five and go to his unit. Never brought anyone else in. Maybe he couldn’t afford it?

We wound up having to explain things to the third-shift clerk and the first-shift clerk, because sometimes Mister Stores-Himself would come in much too late for me, and of course he’d be leaving when I wasn’t there – the first-shift clerk thought it was pretty funny but the third-shift guy took some convincing. Fortunately in this economy, “do it or you’re fired” is pretty convincing. I always felt a little ashamed about that but hey – I’m not the manager. None of this was my decision. I’m just along for the ride and making money.

Well. Things went like that quietly for a while. I wondered if any other homeless folks would follow in his wake, but, you know, we do charge a fee for storage, and we’re not going to give discounts. Got to make money, right?

The first test of that principle came when the neon sign had a letter burn out.

You know how it is with those signs, right? Where you drive up to the store at night and the sign says “HARMACY” or “OOD MART” or “1-HR P O O” because the boss was too cheap to get the sign fixed and who cares anyway. Maybe you’re old enough to remember when the Hollywood sign said “HULLYWO D”? That kind of thing.

So now, as soon as night fell, our facility was called “ELF STORAGE.”

I thought that was kind of funny, like, oh no someone’s going to try to store an elf here. I stopped laughing when a lady came in around 6 PM and asked to store an elf.

So I said, “Come on, lady, I don’t need this kind of crap. I’m here on my feet from 5 to 11 and – ”

And she cut me off like a jerk. “I don’t care about your feet,” she said. “I want to store an elf.”

And I said “Look, you can store any object you want as long as you can pay, but why do you need to tell me the details? Just get out your credit card and stop wasting my time.”

And she said, “This isn’t an object, this is a real elf. The sign says Elf Storage. So I’m storing an elf. Do you want me to sue you for false advertising?”

And I said, “Do you want me to call security?”

And she said, “I want you to call the manager.”

Here we go again! So I brought in the manager and the manager said alright, let’s see this elf, and the lady brought out – must have been from behind her back somehow, I swear I never saw the damn thing before that moment – a living breathing elf.

A fairly tall elf lady, as it was, and I could tell even though her long hair covered her ears, cause she was a foot taller than my annoying customer and she was giving me a look that made me shudder and I was pretty sure her dress was made of actual leaves.

So I turned to the manager, hoping to get some backup for my refusal here, and the manager said, hey, we have to make money. And I said, I think we’re in over our heads. And the manager said, do you want to get paid or not?

That was a good answer, but I still had a burning question on my mind, so I turned to the annoying customer and said, “Why don’t you let the elf here speak for herself?” And that turned out to be a mistake because the elf’s response was a song that sounded like it came out of twenty different people.

And the annoying customer said that this was the elf lady’s request, because now that the sign no longer said self-storage, she couldn’t ask to store herself.

And that was when Mister Store-Himself walked in and put down his fee for the day, and the Elf Lady told him to scram because he was violating the sign. He told her to shove off. They almost started a fistfight until the manager put his foot down very loudly and said it was his facility, by thunder, and he’d accept whatever he wanted to accept.

That was a fair enough answer for the elf lady. She could understand monarchy well enough. And Mister Store-Himself was just glad to avoid being tossed out. So he didn’t put up a fuss.

Money in the till and that was that. The annoying customer purchased a small unit and the elf lady shrank to fit. I could swear she gave me a wink before she closed the door.

Things went like that for a while. Someone would come in wanting to store an elf, and all kinds of them – some thin as a rail and taller than me, some short and squat, some pale, some brown, some golden, some blue, didn’t matter really, they always looked completely different every time any of their doors were opened. And the third-shift guy kept telling me that they looked nothing like human when they crossed through moonlight. I asked him how the hell he was seeing moonlight in the middle of this city and he said he could see the full moon out the windows every night, when the lights flickered out at random times. I asked him how the hell the lights burned out when they were fluorescent track lighting installed last month. He couldn’t explain.

It took some convincing to get him to put up with all this, which is to say the manager threatened to fire him again.

Well, whatever. I didn’t have to deal with it except on the very occasional instance that the lights went off before my shift ended. One time Mister Store-Himself came in at just that moment, and needed help finding his own unit. Wouldn’t have been a problem except that my flashlight wasn’t working, so I had to use the glow from my smartphone and that kept turning off. Slow going. Especially since Mister Store-Himself told me to keep my eyes away from the patches of moonlight, so I’m shuffling around them with my eyes down. Talk about a nightmare. I have no idea how I found the guy’s unit before dawn.

Both me and third-shift guy were envious of the first-shift clerk, or more envious than usual.

That went on for a few months. No more incidents on my end, although Mister Stores-Himself complained to the manager that his unit’s door kept getting shut all the way. Thank heavens the first-shift guy always made sure to check. Otherwise it was a nice time. The building was warmer than you would have expected.

Then the next letter in the sign burned out.

At that point most of the elfs disappeared. They weren’t going to stick around if the sign didn’t say they could. And the manager no longer had a hold on them. Maybe he never really did. Maybe they were just playing with him. Or maybe they were following rules that he didn’t understand. Or maybe they understood what was coming. Whatever it was, the fees for their storage were gone, and the manager was despondent. He made hints that he would have to let us go. No more money. Well, that was going to be a problem, but at least the units were free for other people, right?

Unless some whack-off comes in trying to store an LF. What the heck is an LF? I don’t know. Hopefully nobody knows.

So the very next evening some fellow comes in with a pet carrier in one hand. Big pet carrier, the kind that holds a medium dog or a really big house cat. And oh boy, the sound that comes out of this pet carrier. Snarling like the devil himself. SNARL, GRRR, ROWL, RARR. I can barely hear the guy as he requests to store an Eleff.

I say, “What? You want to store an elephant?”

And he says, “No I don’t think you’re elegant!”

And the manager comes out, grabs the pet carrier, opens the door, sticks his hand in, and suddenly it’s dead quiet.

Alright, so maybe these things shut up if you give them a taste of the long pork. I asked the manager if Mister Stores-Himself is going to like that idea and the manager said, we have to make money.

So now it was my turn to suffer. First-shift clerk had no people coming to store Eleffs; third-shift guy only got them now and then; they all came in on MY shift, and oh my poor eardrums. I had to learn to stick my hand in the pet carrier despite my utter terror.

Whatever these Eleffs were, they were pretty fluffy.

And once you shoved the pet carrier into the unit their snarls were muffled. That worked well enough for a while. Until we got as many of them as we used to have elfs, and all the muffled snarling added up to an ominous sound that had the third-shift guy shaking in his shoes all night. He didn’t wait for the manager to fire him, apparently. Just ran out the door into the night. Or so I was told. I never actually saw him go.

You’d think if he got eaten Mister Stores-Himself would have gone first, but, by the same token, HE had a big steel door to hide behind. And what was he going to do if he didn’t like it? Leave?

I felt a little sick thinking that way about a fellow down on his luck, but it was true. He had to accept whatever this place threw at him, as long as his unit was his own. And the manager would take anything, as long as someone paid the fee. Money. Money money money. Maybe Mister Stores-Himself and the manager were both stuck in their own way. Manager out of greed, Mister Stores-Himself out of desperation. And me? Well, I had an apartment to pay for as well. This place paid well enough that I only had to work one shift. What a rare thing around here. I was stuck as much as anyone else was, unless I wanted to work myself to death at some warehouse package-fulfillment place where I could die and nobody would find me for twenty minutes.

So while these Eleffs were snarling all the livelong night, I was drowning them out with my own snarls about who had enough money to pay our fees, after all. How the hell did they get it and what did they do. Who knew.

Well, that went on for a while, and I wound up picking up the third shift because I was really good at ignoring the noises from the units, and NOBODY was applying for the position. Hey, two wages in my pocket, what’s not to like, right? Oh right, the fact that I had to stay awake from 5 PM until 5 AM. No goddamn way, man. I slept under the front desk.

Until the security guards ratted on me to the manager. Maybe they were mad at me for supposedly accepting all this nonsense. Hey, all I ever did was call the manager!

So I got real mad and I decided to get real sneaky. One night I told the security guards I was leaving the desk to use the bathroom, cover for me alright? And I sneaked up to the seventh floor where the big red sign ran right under the windows. This whole LF thing was going to end right now, dammit. I leaned out the window and whacked the glowing red L real hard.

Admittely it was a long shot, but I was thinking that, if they’re hanging up high, they’re not built to withstand any heavy blows. Well, I can’t say for certain. My idea didn’t work.

What actually happened was that the metal parts holding the sign to the brick were really rusty because Mister We Gotta Make Money never bothered to pay for maintenance on these things. So one smack sent the entire thing right off the wall.

The impact down on the ground sure drowned out whatever snarls were coming from the units. And thank god it sent both security guards running towards it, because they were too distracted to see me coming down the stairs. They were looking up to wonder why the sign had fallen, and down to worry about the massive amounts of glass all over the place.

I didn’t get any more sleep that night. The manager told me to sweep up all the glass. Oh, security guards didn’t have to help, did they? No, they had to protect the precious storage units from the sneak thieves who might have been using the sign as a distraction.

They wound up blaming Mister Stores-Himself because he was…an easy target, to be honest. They knew I’d gone to the bathroom and Mister Stores-Himself couldn’t prove his whereabouts, could he? And he could open his unit’s door from the inside, right? There you go.

The fact that I never revealed the truth when I had the chance to save that guy is not the greatest shame of my life, but it’s up there.

Well. I’d solved my problem, at least. Now we were going to get people trying to store an F. And no more snarls! No more Third shift for me!

Except that by this point, nobody in their right mind would have applied to work for us. I had hoped that Mister No Longer Stores Himself would take the opening that I had left, but maybe he wasn’t going to put up with a place that treated him like crap after pretending to give him a chance. So, welcome to third shift again!

And my assumption about the new customers proved correct. Sort of.

The first guy that came in next evening said, “I want to store an Eff.”

And I said, “Store an F? Maybe you can just paste it to a wall somewhere.”

And he said, “Excuse me? Oh, no no. Spelled E-F-F. Slightly different.”

And I said, “The sign says F not E-F-F. No dice.”

And he said, “I want to talk to the manager.”

I was sorely tempted to go behind the doorway and pretend to be a gruff manager telling him to scram, but the actual manager was there, so, nothing for it.

The manager said it was fine as soon as he could see this “eff”.

And the customer said, “You can’t see it. But! You know it’s there. Here effy effy effy effy.” And suddenly a gentle breeze blew through the room even though the door was closed.

Money in the till and that was that.

Only after the second and third of these things came in did I think to ask where, exactly, these things were being stored. The manager said, wherever. And I said, what do you mean whatever. And he said, you can’t store the wind in a definite place, can you? And I said yes you can, it’s called compressed air. And he said, the point is, we can store as many of these things in here as we want. Infinite customers! We’re no longer limited by space! And I said, compressed air, dumbass, there’s a limit to how much air you can fit in a space. And he said shut up or you’re fired.

Fine. At least this time the security guards weren’t going to venture into the building. At all. They were getting really scared. So I could sleep behind the desk now and fall asleep to the sound of a gentle breeze.

Or with good earplugs, because as we got one customer after another, the wind got louder and louder. I had to sleep with a thick blanket behind the desk because that wind was taking the heat right off me.

Mister manager kept his door closed and pretended not to notice.

But eventually, it was impossible not to notice, especially when I was having trouble standing upright at the desk. If I couldn’t hear a customer say anything then how could we get any more customers? Sign language! Thank goodness everyone knows sign language, right? Right. Right. Lucky me.

At the point that the manager himself could barely get his own door open, he began to have some doubts himself. But, gotta make money, right? And I tried to tell him that this was now impossible. First-shift clerk was long gone. Maybe blown out the window. The manager had to cover that shift himself.

But before he had the chance to figure that all out for himself, I wasn’t going to let him learn for himself, before I had my goddamn revenge. What I did was, instead of communicating the impossibility of the situation to him in sign language, I opened one of the windows, staggered back to the cash drawer, opened it up, and tossed all the cash into the air.

Must have been three thousand dollars that blew out the window with the escape of the Effs.

So NOW it was quiet.

And the manager told me I was fired.

Fine.

As it turned out, I wasn’t going to get any more money out of that place. Now that the remaining customer base had been thoroughly infuriated, they collectively sued the guy to oblivion. He tried to pin the blame on me but I never wound up paying anything because HE counter-sued the customers for creating the whole situation, and the whole thing became a legal tangle. He had to sell his storage facility to a national chain in order to keep paying his legal fees, and then settle.

In the meantime I took a first-shift job at a mattress store and a second-shift job at a nail salon, and those places were at least a little nicer. And I’d picked up enough money from the night shift at the storage place that I could put a down payment on a better apartment than my old place. I tracked down Mister Stores-Himself and offered to make things up to him by letting him pay a quarter of the rent instead of half. And he said, oh no, I don’t think you can put up with me, and I said, what could possibly be the problem? And he said that, before he managed to put on deodorant in the morning he always smelled like the devil himself. He had asked for a unit in a storage facility because he knew he’d be totally alone in the morning.

Well I’d lost my sense of smell in a firecracker accident years ago, so that wouldn’t be a problem. And he said fine and dandy.

So now we’re kind of stuck together, but I’d rather be stuck with him than my old manager. He’s a clever fellow, and bold. He proved that at the start of the whole ordeal.

I wonder why the manager never said anything about the smell. Maybe he was too polite? Nah, can’t be.

It had to be the money. Well, he got what he wanted.

And maybe everyone got what they deserved after all.

#Elf Storage #self storage #neon sign #fun with neon #short story #text #fiction

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