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ballorawan740 · 3 years

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SCP Scenarios: SCP x Reader - McDonald's Sprite (REQUESTED)

Requested by: @katnotmore123

Bro y'all be simping for Sprite and I'm here simping for 7Up...

I mean I like them both but I just prefer 7up over Sprite... It's like comparing Pepsi and Coke ngl but with a more subtle difference

SCP 073 (Cain)

You came back to the foundation one day with a cup of iced drink and Cain had asked what you were drinking and you showed him

He was mildly confused but soon understood the beverage since he had seen them somewhere on the web (no, not the hub, an advert from McDonald's)

You asked if he wanted to try some and he did, so you gave him a sip

You were slightly annoyed and surprised since you drove over an hour and hadn't had anything to drink and the last thing you wanted was someone taking your drink

But since it was 073, you made it an exception since you hadn't expected him to have any food or beverages outside of site 17

You figured that he had enjoyed it as he reminisced his past about being able to eat plant-based food but no longer could

You felt bad and agreed to get more when you next go back

The researchers had wondered if the drink had ever rotted in his mouth but realise moments later that it's mainly made out of artificial ingredients aside from the natural flavourings

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

I have high doubts that you would be able to persuade Abel to drink such a plain beverage, so you had devised a plan to get him to try

You made a bet with Abel in which the loser has to finish off the drink, not that you'd complain (you unhealthy mf), but you really wanted him to give it a try

Abel accepted and had very much lost the bet

He had taken a sip and you noticed that he's enjoying the drink and teased him

He spat it out and flat out denied it (like the tsundere he is) but continued drinking it anyways

Some of the researchers monitoring Abel's cell found it rather amusing that he enjoyed such a "plain beverage" and did try to tease him about it

Let's just say it didn't end very well as it resulted in somebody's head being chopped off

You both had agreed that if Abel stops trying to breach his containment and be more cooperative, you or somebody else in your team would buy him more Sprite from McDonald's (and by 'buy', I mean kidnapping the whole chain's Sprite dispenser)

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

999 would most definitely take the drink out of your hand since his little tingles tell him that whatever you were drinking was sweet

And he was very much right

You were slightly shocked but wasn't surprised since he does have quite a sweet tooth

Every now and again, SCP 999 would ask if you had any more of those drinks and would even ask what they were

You had explained to him that it's a lemon and line flavoured soft drink created by the Coca-Cola company (the more you know right?)

He was intrigued and sweetly requested if you could buy him more and you obliged

You would use your time off to buy a dozen of Sprites from McDonald's and would sometimes buy other soft drinks like Coke and Fanta for 999

Needless to say, you had an orange blob as your personal pet who would give you unlimited hugs since you spoiled him with so many drinks

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

This mf of a lizard right here is just as stubborn, if not even more than Abel, and would reject trying that beverage at all for the whole entire week

You had to bribe him and the researchers were laughing their socks off from this interaction you both got going

He did give in but was rather hesitant at first

Once you poured some into his mouth, he seemed slightly disgusted from the taste

He would just sit still for a moment as to contemplate then stuck his tongue out as a sign of disgust

But bring the cheeky person you were, you spilt more into his mouth which led to him farting for the next few hours to which everyone laughed

Dr Bright heard the commotion and came to see what was happening

Let's just say he encouraged you to carry on if you want your head cut off but found it amusing regardless

In short, don't ever give him Sprite unless you want to torture him

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

Does this bird doctor even drink?!

You mention multiple times about human food and how delicious they are

Mainly McDonald's Sprite and their food since its rather popular

ESPECIALLY THEIR CHEESE BITES/STICKS!!! HAVE YALL EVEN TRIED THEM!? THEY'RE DELICIOUS AF!!!

OMG they've released the garlic ones but I preferred the normal Mozzarella sticks and cheesy bites though

Anyways, back to Sprite, our side chick

049 would be intrigued about this 'Sprite' since you spoke so passionately about it like your life depended on it and requested you to get him one for a try and so you did

When he drank it he was surprised at the foreign taste

He asked if there were more beverages like it and you answered honestly, carrying on with your love for McDonald's and offered to buy him some for a try

Basically, 049 would give it a try since you spoke so passionately for them

He wouldn't necessarily hate it, but he wouldn't love the drink as much

I'd say he would be intrigued to try something new outside of his role in curing the pestilence

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

I am so sorry guys, I'll have to make 035 hella short since I can't think of anything interesting for him

DO YALL THINK THIS BOI CAN EVEN TRY?! JUST LOOK AT HIM!!! HE'S A BLOODY MASK!!!

The closest thing for him to try the drink is if you gave his now possessed body some beforehand so 035 could telepathically understand the taste

Like if you just straight up gave him the drink I don't think he would be able to drink it even if he wanted to

If the now dead body never had Sprite, then you ould just describe the tase to him in form of arts (I like to imagine 035 would be into arts, especially performing arts since he's basically a theatre mask)

SCP 105 (Iris)

Our girl here has a high chance that she might have tried McDonald's Sprite

But she just prefers healthier foods (this healthy mf knows that y'all can't keep healthy, that's why she's here to start your New Year's Resolution which is to stay healthy)

You both would recommend food which is healthy or unhealthy and would try them

Iris is more than capable of controlling her diet, but you, on the other hand, have a hard time doing so (don't lie, we all know y'all like junk food)

So, you both compromised in which you can have junk food as a reward, namely your favourite beverage, Sprite

You just love the citrus flavoured, colourless beverage so much that Iris would have to hide the drink from you (ah yes great promotion from me XD)

What would you do without our girl, Iris, eh? (Die from overeating unhealthy food which causes heart attacks and strokes, of course, fun!)

Anyways, sometimes when you're the one going out, you would be the one to buy a few dozen bottles of Sprite from McDonald's (bro do they even sell bottled drinks? Ik they do in KFC from where I live OwO)

Iris would drop dead from the sight of you bringing in so many Sprites into the foundation

She would most likely drink some with you, not because she likes them, god no

It's because there's no more room to store them and she's just a little bit thirsty

SCP 106 (Old Man)

This old man would be so confused by all this food and drinks from the outside world

His first impression of McDonald's was that of a circus since you've shown him the older advertisement for McDonald's since it fits his age (love you 106!!! Not)

And then you gave him a menu, and god did he not have any glasses (boi he do be needing to go to Specsavers fr)

He read Mozzarella Sticks as mosasaurs pricks, the Spicy Veggie One as spicy vag- and what's worse is that he read Double Quater Pounder as double quantum pounding (he even read Coke wrong!)

You and the foundation staff burst out of laughter at his 20/20 eyesight

So one day, you returned to the foundation with some Sprite in your hands in hopes that 106 would give it a go and so he did

He found the flavour somewhat new and strange but still enjoyed it nevertheless (this boi here do be a man of culture, am I right?)

Anyways, 106 loved it so much to the point that during one of the breaches, he disappeared from the foundation and reappeared with 10 boxes of Sprite

The researchers then realised afterwards that 106 had used his pocket dimension to teleport to the nearest McDonald's and stole the boxes of Sprite without even paying

They were even more surprised to find that the workers there were ordinary humans and weren't even fazed about 106 teleporting to their business (Sames here bro! If anyone stole my food/drinks I'd be pissed too regardless of who it is!!! Food is food!!!)

You basically made him addicted to Sprite

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

(Imma be honest here, idk if this guy eats since he's facing the wall and covering his face like 99% of the time unless some guy saw his face)

You were sat in 096's cell and was debating on what food to get from McDonald's

096 was curious about what you're talking about since he heard you mumbling bout food from this so-called "McDonald's"

So you explained to him the concept of food and that generally speaking, unhealthy foods are tastier and typically served quicker in at places like McDonald's

Imma be real here, I like Burger King's chilli cheese bites a tiny bit more since the McDonald's at my place is stuck with garlic cheese bites atm

It's not like I hate them, but I just prefer the old ones, but it's nice that McDonald's changes up their food every now and then

Anyways, back onto our side chick

You bought your favourite Sprite along with the double quantum pou- quarter pounder

096 was upon curious and so you let him have a bite of your quarter pounder and your Sprite

Let's just say that 096 found it weird and didn't ask about human food again

Dr Jack bright

Jack Bright is very much aware of McDonald's and other fast-food chains since he does have a fair share of memories of eating them with his family and because the bodies he possesses do be unhealthy af (just like you)

You were talking about food with one of your co-workers and Bright just so happened to be nearby and butted his head into the conversation

Your co-worker also just happened to leave for a meeting so you're both stuck together talking about McDonald's

Sometime later, you bought to the foundation some food, including Jack's favourites as he had mentioned not long ago

You both tried each other's food and he was mesmerised by the Sprite since it's been a while since he had it

So whenever you went back, you would buy a larger bottle of Sprite for Jack since he wouldn't have much free time and needed to drink more anyways

Sometimes, when you're both talking about food, you'd make up puns for them or just laugh at your misinterpretations since you're just as blind as a bat (btw I've read somewhere that bats have good vision, they just use echolocation a lot)

Some of the things you both would say would be "Did you hear that McDonald's gave all their employees large laptops for Christmas? They were Big Macs" and "Hey, Ronald McDonald - been watching any good clown movies? Ronald: I'm loving it"

One time, he smacked your bum and casually said to you "Girl, this quarter-pounder will take you to a whole different level of experience" and then left

Dr Simon Glass

Another doctor who has knowledge of fast foods

He's similar to Bright in a way as he doesn't leave the facility as often as he likes since he's constantly busy

Also, he would make terrible jokes and puns using wordplay

When you told him about your favourite drink, Sprite, Glass immediately said "I went to the store to get eight cans of Sprite. When I got home, I realized I’d only picked seven up"

You just looked dumbfounded at his puns and laughed as he continued

He did manage to take a sip and drank the whole can of Sprite instead

You even bought some wrap with extra mayo and told Simon about your friendly chat with the waitress/cashier and mentioned her former co-workers

And you died on the inside because his only reply was "She should go back sometime to ketchup with her old co-workers or she mayo not want to"

To shut him up, you have decided that buying him Sprite would work and it kinda did

Only for a short while though

Dr Alto Clef

Clef is well aware of the fast-food chain called McDonald's

It was hard to ignore it as a lot of people younger than him had kept talking about it, even you

Even worse if it was you talking about McDonald's since you have an obsession with their Sprite

Poor Clef was confused as he assumed that all lemon/lime flavoured drinks were the same

Oh boy was he wrong

You came back with your lunch from you know where and 2 bottles of Sprite

One was from McDonald's and the other from Lidl along with some of your favourite pastries, like croissants and toffee yum yums

You had him try all the foods and both Sprites and he finally gave in to the fact that McDonald's Sprite tastes more superior than the other

Not only that, he made dirty jokes and puns about the food in McDonald's

Like "Baby, you got more legs than a bucket of McDonald's", "Come over to my house and I’ll give ya a happy meal", "Do you work here? Because I’d like to order some fries with that shake" and "Girl when I am done with you, you won't be looking for no toys in this happy meal"

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Benjamin Kondraki would be the type of person who would be reluctant to try but would anyways since you asked so kindly and gave them those eyes

And by that, I mean a death glare

NGL he doesn't seem like the type of fella to be eating a ton of unhealthy food

I mean he doesn't necessarily eat salad or anything overly healthy, but he does have a balanced diet for the most part and does treat himself sometimes, but not too often

You magically crept up behind Kondraki and scared him unintentionally but you still laughed anyway because you're evil

He looked down and realised that the packaging was from McDonald's and you were holding a familiar clear bottle in your other hand

You were kind enough to share your food with him and he thoroughly enjoyed it

Then after that, you forced him to drink some Sprite since he has PTSD from your unhealthy obsession with it

And yes, he did end up drinking it

And no, he didn't like it nor did he hate it

You were upset that you thought he shot you down about Sprite but quickly regained your happiness since he did tell you about the drink being just above average

195 notes · View notes

violet-knox · 3 years

Note

1 I would love to request a story for you if it´s still fine to do it, my request is a smut story with a quiet virgin female reader who is popular with opposite gender mostly because of her attractive physical appareance and for that when she confess that she have a romantic interested in him. He thinks is a lie or a joke to hurt him somehow but when she insist that her feelings are honest and she is willing to do anything.

Beauty’s Curse

Pairing: Young!Snape x Half-Veela!Reader

Summary: As Valentine’s day quickly approaches, you find yourself surrounded by more and more people asking to be yours, but you have your eye on someone else.

Warnings: (SPOILERS) Spiked drink, manipulation

Word Count: 6679

A/N: To be honest, I was a bit hesitant with this request because I knew it would be a rather big challenge. I didn’t want to write anything superficial or cliche, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to break the stereotype of “that pretty mean girl” and show that no one should be judged on their looks, even those who are considered attractive.

I took inspiration from a situation I found myself in more or less recently, so please do read the warnings before reading this even though they are crossed out unless you really don’t want spoilers.

Nearly six years had passed and the comments from your peers had never once eased. Valentine’s day had become your least favourite holiday from the never-ending line of people asking you to be their Valentine, each year worse than the last as your popularity increased. You knew it wasn’t their fault, not entirely. You were half Veela after all, something you never dare tell a soul. Rumours went around in your fourth year when you hit puberty, an invisible glow seeming to surround you as you walked down the hall, heads turning as they ogled you in amazement. ‘It was a gift’ your mother would always tell you, but you could never see it that way, especially after you’d agreed to go out with that boy a few years above you last year, finding out his charm only extended so far until his true colours showed. Since then, you’d done everything you could to contain your influence over those who yearned for you, knowing you’d never know true love if the man you ended up with only did so from his inability to resist you.

You wanted to know what love really felt like, real love not the admiration the Slytherin boys chatting you up now were showing. It irked you how they’d suddenly surrounded you like this, three of them, all taller than you, all of whom were doing their best to impress you. One spoke of his father’s status at the Ministry of Magic, offering to take you anywhere you liked on Valentine’s day. Another tried to persuade you with the offer of visiting his mother’s shop in Westminster; the most luxurious dress shop in all of London he claimed, anything you wanted his mother could have you fitted for. The last boy had the nerve to try and hand over a necklace with the most amount of diamonds you’d ever seen, saying he’d offer you anything you liked if you agreed to be his Valentine. You had to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes, the necklace barely managing to snap your attention back to them as your eyes instead wandered to the end of the hall where you saw another Slytherin sitting on the ledge of a window with his nose in a book.

You could still remember back when that was you sitting alone somewhere in the castle in your first year, everyone passing you by like you didn’t exist, your own nose shoved in the tenth book you’d been reading that week. Of course, that part never changed, you were a proud bookworm, one who’d much rather spend the evening diving into the pages of a good book than surrounded by people gawking at you. The only difference now was it was much harder to find a place where you’d be uninterrupted, but you always found a way, a small corner in this giant castle to call your own and escape the real world if not for a short moment.

“Sorry, but I can’t be any of your Valentines.” You spewed a quick apology to the Slytherin’s and pushed passed them, only to watch the boy you’d been intrigued by slam his book shut and dramatically swift away down the stairs.

He’d seen enough, the necklace turning his stomach into knots as he thought about the stupid bet they made before walking over to you, how they each thought they could buy you over with some luxury he could never afford to have. They didn’t even acknowledge his presence as they spoke, didn’t even bother to notice he’d hung back, that he stood by to watch them get rejected by the person who’d been known to reject everyone since first year. You seemed so kind and of course, it probably helped that you were a Hufflepuff, helped your ruse of being everyone’s friend, but he saw through you. He was the only one that did just as he was the only one to see through Potter. Everyone who was popular with the entire school had a dark side, he knew it, even if he hadn’t seen yours.

“Severus!” He turned around in surprise as he heard his name called out, unable to recognize the voice. His expression immediately turned sour when he realized it was you who’d run after him, calling his name to get his attention. He turned around and began walking away, one hand holding his books tightly as the other formed a tight fist. “Severus, wait!”

You were almost surprised to see someone so bluntly ignore you, shun you like you were nothing and you knew it was an act of dislike towards you, the way he looked at you making it very clear he did not want to speak with you. Yet you couldn’t help but yearn over him all the more. The only person in the entire school that seemed to see you as just another student, the only person who didn’t look at you like you’d blessed the very ground you walked on and he wouldn’t even give you a moment to speak.

“Severus,” you tried again, finally catching up to him as you placed your hand over his shoulder, Severus nearly twisting your wrist as he spun around, acting like your hand had burned the spot where you’d touched him. “I was just wondering, if you’d perhaps like to go out sometime?”

“What?” Severus rose his brow, wondering if he’d heard you correctly. It almost sounded as if you were asking him out, you, the person everyone in his life compared to perfection, the beauty of an angel, kindness comparable to no one else’s. You who’d chatted with the entire school, made friends with everyone, enemies with no one, would choose him?

“It-it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. But I just thought, well I thought it would be nice to have a chat with you some time,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your face as you tried to ease the tension. Severus' expression only darkened with annoyance as his suspicion of you grew.

“Did Avery put you up to this? Nott? Or Potter?” he blurted out. He couldn’t believe you thought he’d fall for such an obvious ruse. That he’d be desperate enough to accept your deceptive invitation, and when he found out who it was that plotted this interaction, he was going to make sure they never tried something like this again.

“N-no! Why would you say that?” You looked at him with shock, your heart sinking as you felt yourself nearly knock yourself over as you hit that defensive wall he had built around himself. You knew he wasn’t exactly liked by the other students, that he had a much tougher time than he deserved, but you’d never imagined him reacting like this when you finally built up the courage to ask him out.

“I’m not falling for this,” Severus shook his head as he dismissed your advancements. He turned around and resumed walking down the stairs, leaving you to your own failure though he wasn’t surprised to see you running after him.

“Severus wait!”

“Tell whoever sent you to piss off!” He brushed you off without stopping. Reaching the ground floor, he continued to walk towards the Entrance Hall without so much as glancing your way.

“Severus no one sent me, I swear,” you tried to make him see reason, to show him you were being genuine, but as he spun back around, his hair turning dramatically with him as his strands quickly settled back into place, framing the annoyed look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t willing to let his guard down for even a moment and consider your intentions to be pure.

“Really? Then why?” His words came out more as demands rather than a question, but you wouldn’t let it scare you away. You didn’t want to give up the one chance you had at a genuine relationship with someone who saw you as more than just a pretty face.

“Why what?”

“Why in Merlin’s name would you ask me out when you already have the entire school ready to put their heads on the chopping block just for a moment with you?” His tone made you wonder if he was asking the question out of curiosity for your answer or if he’d already made up his mind, that no matter what you said he wouldn’t believe you anyways. You had half a mind to walk away, telling yourself you deserved better, but this was what you wanted wasn’t it? Not to be run after, try to be bought over in some way? You wanted someone to go out with you and love you for who you were, to resist the natural attraction of your Veela DNA.

“Because you’re brilliant and love to read. Because you aren’t like everyone else. Because you make me feel normal.” You poured your heart out to Severus only to have him scoff in your face, rolling his eyes, clearly finding your words less than truthful. You’d never admit it of course, but you did, in a way, lie. You’d admired him for so long now. All you saw was his good sides, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit such a thing. “Please, Severus, give me a chance.”

Severus stared at you a moment, surprising himself as he actually debated your plea. He wanted nothing more than to believe you, to believe someone would be interested in him in the way you claimed. But it was you. How could he believe the most wanted person in the entire school would choose the most hated? He wanted to get the truth out of you, to embarrass you when you admitted to your real intentions and perhaps that’s exactly what he should do. Perhaps he could get you to blurt out the name of the imbecile that would soon regret trying to mess with him like this.

“Fine. There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend. I suppose I can spare a few hours with you.” He agreed to your invitation as he made plans of his own, immediately setting off to the dungeons when you smiled and nodded. You looked almost relieved that he’d finally accepted, almost like you had some other agenda and of course, he’d find out one way or the other. He was tired of the harassment, the humiliation from everyone in this school, tainting it with their insolence and stupidity. This was his home, the one place in the entire world where he could belong, and he wouldn’t let anyone push him around any longer.

This was the last straw. He was going to make an example out of you and whoever it was pulling your strings. He’d make the entire school regret making him out as a punishing bag, a joke for everyone to laugh at. What more could he lose? His best friend had already abandoned him, his Slytherin peers eager to do the same, only ever defending him out of obligation for their own house. He had no one, nothing to care for except his own reputation. He’d come to Hogwarts wanting to make something of himself, to build himself a future better suited for a Prince than a Snape and that’s what he was going to do one way or the other.

He made his way to his dorm first, retrieving the stash of potion ingredients he hid under his bed and cross referenced what he needed from the notes he’d taken in the back of his Advanced Potion Making textbook. He had nearly everything he needed, but he knew he could get the rest from the potion’s cupboard before Potion’s class today. It would take some time to brew and he’d probably have to stay up tonight, but he knew he could finish it just in time for his ‘date’ with you.

You’d spent all week excited for the weekend. Every day you woke up with a smile until finally the day of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. You were the first to wake, preparing for the day as your nerves grew, your friends questioning why you seemed so happy all of a sudden, but you brushed them all off. You didn’t want anything to ruin this day, knowing they’d laugh if you told them you were going out with Severus. You just wanted to enjoy your date, to be left alone and show Severus there was someone in this school who would love nothing more than to spend every second of the day with him.

Naturally you’d show up early and of course you were prepared. You sat at a nearby bench with your nose in a book as you usually were when you were alone and despite the crowd that grew with every second that past, Severus had no trouble finding you, rather surprised you weren’t surrounded by people all laughing, waiting to see what would come of your plan to humiliate him today. You were reading Magical Theory, one of the most boring books he’d found in all of Hogwarts’ library, yet there you were, enticed by every word, flipping the pages like you couldn’t go another second without reading.

“H-hello,” he said, startling you as you shot your attention up from your book to him. He felt his heart racing, his nerves escalating like this was a real date. But it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. He was here for one reason and one reason only; the truth. He shouldn’t be feeling guilty for something he had yet to do, but he did. A sliver of him didn’t want to hurt you, instead hoping that this was real, that you were here because you were genuinely interested in him, but he knew better. How could someone as popular, as liked and as beautiful as you be interested in him?

“Severus, I’m glad you showed.” You gave him the widest smile he’d ever seen anyone give him as you closed your book and stood up.

“I said I would didn’t I?” Severus rose a brow at you, taken back by the enthusiasm in your tone.

“Yes, but you seemed reluctant the other day.” Truth be told, you half expected to spend the day alone in absolute despair trying to distract yourself in that book as you pretended like you weren’t hurt from being stood up. But he came and he seemed much less defensive than before.

“Shall we?” He gestured to the group of students making their way down to Hogsmeade. You nodded your head and happily joined him as you walked side by side amongst the crowd. Severus was already suspicious of you and your intentions knowing if he was alone, he would have been called ‘Snivellus’ at least once by now. He felt shielded around you, like no one could touch him and for a moment, he was relieved to feel normal for once.

“I loved your presentation in Defense last week,” you commented, hoping some light conversation would help ease the mood before you found a place to settle for the day. Severus glared at you in surprise, wondering if you were trying to butter him up or if you had actually paid attention during class unlike the rest of his useless classmates.

“Really? What did you like about it?” Severus questioned your honesty, wondering if he could catch you in a lie before your ‘date’ even started.

“I love how in-depth your research was on cursed objects and your theory of their origin was intriguing,” you said with a smile, holding back your enthusiasm in fear of scaring him away. But you couldn’t help it, you admired Severus and how brilliant he was. You felt the heat rise to your face as you thought about the first time you saw him with his nose in a book, the first time you’d ever found yourself pulled away from your own book. “I noticed you like to hang around the Defense section of the library, is it your favourite subject?”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Your question had the opposite effect that you wanted as you saw his wall rebuild itself around him thicker than before. But you’d never give up knocking and asking him to let you in, to give you a chance and show him he could trust you.

“N-no, I like to hide in the library at times and I just noticed you were a regular as well,” you said, but you could tell Severus wasn’t convinced. He could almost see the crack in your claims, trying to cover them with some made up weak lie.

“Why have I never seen you in the library?” The interrogation continued, Severus seeing his victory in his line of sight. He had you cornered and was ready to end the day now when you admitted your true intentions. A smirk began to grow on his face as he thought of the victory at the end of his fingertips. He could almost see the horrific look on the face of whoever is to blame for this day.

“Pince lets me sit on the second floor overlooking the library, it’s only meant for staff, but she noticed my inability to have a moment to myself and rescued me one day from another mob of people looking to make conversation with me.”

“That’s kind of her,” he said, gritting his teeth as you slipped away from him, freeing yourself from his near grasp. His lips stretched into a frown as his revenge faded away. The longer he spoke with you the more his hope that this was real grew. You surprised him with your lack of self-absorbent qualities and your interest in what the Hogwarts library had to offer. He never imagined having so much in common with someone with your popularity, always assuming you’d be a lot more like Potter than himself.

He looked over at you as you nodded, your smile enriching the twinkle in your eye as you gleamed at him with joy. You were so happy to speak with him, to have a casual and light conversation, to share things with him you’d never shared with anyone before. It felt good to open up a bit, to show that other side of you that stayed hidden away when you spoke to your friends or classmates. It was almost freeing, and you only hoped with time, Severus could feel the same with you.

“So, where should we go?” You asked, unsure of what his favourite places at Hogsmeade was. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy a trip to Honeydukes and you knew he didn’t have enough money for the bookstore.

“We could grab a table at The Three Broomsticks?” Severus suggested as he gestured towards the pub. You nodded your head and made your way over, opening the door and began to make your way to the first empty table you saw. You smiled when Severus pulled on your arm and pointed to the booth in the back instead. He was always such a loner, though you couldn’t help but wonder if he preferred the seclusion now because he didn’t want to be seen with you. You wouldn’t blame him for being skeptical and you were thankful he was giving you a chance, but trust was so important in a relationship and you didn’t want to start it off with an inability to trust one another.

“Go ahead, I’ll grab us some drinks.” You nodded and made your way to the booth, making yourself comfortable as Severus walked over to the bar. As you slide to the middle of the booth, you began to appreciate Severus' choice in seating, realizing how well hidden you were from everyone, not wanting your day interrupted by someone who thought Severus had kidnapped you and forced you into a date because they thought someone like you shouldn’t be out with someone like him.

Severus didn’t take long to bring you your drinks, setting them down before shuffling into the booth beside you, grabbing his drink and taking a few gulps. His nerves had finally settled in and he almost wished he’d ordered something stronger for himself. The moment of truth had nearly come and at any moment now he’d get what he came here for, but he was afraid. He feared what the truth may bring him, that if by some small chance you were being honest before, he was about to ruin a love that could have been.

“Thank you,” you said as you reached for your own drink and took a sip. “Not just for the drink, but for giving me a chance as well.”

Severus gulped down the guilt that grew in his chest. There was no going back now. He had to find out the truth, even if you seemed genuine with your feelings towards him. “I was curious to know why you’d want to go out with me.”

He dipped his toes in the water as you both continued to enjoy your drinks and as he hoped, you began to open up to him, though perhaps not in the way he would have thought. “I’ve admired you for quite some time and have been trying to build up the courage to talk to you for a while.”

You put your drink down in shock by your sudden outburst of words. You hadn’t meant to say all that, even if it was on the tip of your tongue. Furrowing your brows, you pressed your lips together, unsure of how you’d lost control so suddenly. You felt like someone was pulling your strings, like they had slapped you on the back so hard, the words just flew out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at you, doubting his own abilities and wondered how this could possibly be. He was so sure this was a trick, that you were being deceitful, put up by someone else to embarrass him, but your truth was far from what he was expecting. You were real, you were interested in him, and he’d made a terrible mistake. “S-so no one put you up to asking me out?”

“No of course not. You’re the only person I’ve ever met I felt like I could truly fall in lo-” You clapped your hands over your mouth before you could say anymore. Your eyes widened as you bit down on your tongue, muffling the words you could not believe were about to be heard by him. You looked at him in fear, feeling completely helpless. Your freewill had been stripped away from you and you found yourself unable to control what came out of your mouth. “W-what’s going on?!”

“I-I’m so sorry (Y/N). This was not how I imagined things would go,” he said, his sympathetic tone making it harder for you to stay calm as your heart pounded angrily against your chest. Every fiber in your body told you something was wrong, that you should run, but you couldn’t, you didn’t want to. You’d waited so long to be here, to be in this moment alone with Severus, you didn’t want it ruined.

“What are you talking about?” You let yourself speak just enough to ask for clarification, to give Severus the chance to explain himself, to give you the explanation you needed to stay here with him.

“I-I slipped Veritaserum into your drink. I thought I could get you to admit this was a trick. I didn’t expect this. I’m so sorry.” You looked at him with absolute horror, your heart breaking into a million pieces as his betrayal sunk in. He’d manipulated you, used you like a puppet when you’d done nothing but open yourself up to him. You’d trusted him like you’d done with no one before, and he tossed that away like it meant nothing. Your eyes swelled with tears, unable to look at him any longer. Your legs immediately swept you from your seat as you glued your mouth shut, trying to escape the prison Severus had trapped you in

“(Y/N) wait!” Severus cried after you in desperation, unable to believe how he’d messed up something he could only dream of having. You were an angel that anyone would have felt lucky to be with and he was the demon you’d chose instead. The demon who’d scared you away from love, from happiness, from a good and honest relationship. He tried to grab your wrist, but his hand failed to hold onto you as your skin, your oh so perfect skin grazed his fingertips. You ran out the door with tears dripping down your face and a hand over your mouth, leaving him deserted. His eyes followed you until you were no longer within his line of sight, running to get as far away from the monster who’d broken your trust, your faith in him.

Slumping back in his seat, he stared blankly at his hands, the hands that had spent all week brewing a potion that was meant to bring him peace, a sense of power and control over his own life, yet it brought him nothing but an empty heart and crushed aspirations. Your words rang in his ears, the kind tone you took with him, the loving look you gave him all sinking in much differently now that he knew for certain they were real. He looked up at the drink that had ruined his second chance, the chance at a happy life, a life where he no longer had to be alone and swung his arm at it in anger.

The pub fell silent as glass shattered, the drink spilling all over the floor as Severus pushed himself up and began storming out the door, ignoring the calls of the angry bartender who stood over the mess he’d made. Severus ran in the same direction he’d seen you head, but found no sight of you. He had no idea what he’d say or why he so suddenly ran after you without thinking. He just knew he had to find you. He couldn’t give up on the miracle he’d been asking for all his life, someone who truly cared for him, who liked him for who he was and could look past his flaws.

He looked around and found himself in a lost haze, unsure of what to do next. You were gone, vanished like a figment of his imagination and he was left here to wonder how he’d managed to get so lucky to have the one person the entire school was after fall for him. He looked back at the road back to Hogwarts before he found his legs suddenly jolting him forward as if his body knew exactly where to go. He couldn’t understand what was happening, how he felt like he had no control over himself. His mind was cycling as it tried to comprehend what was happening, how he could be driven on nothing but emotions, his feelings for you pushing him to run as fast as he could back to the castle and up those flights of stairs.

By the time he got to his destination, his hair was sticking to the sides of his face, his lungs gasping for air as he felt his entire body heat up. His heart pounded angrily against his chest, shouting at him to keep going, that he wasn’t done until he’d found you, but he’d never run so much in his life, never felt so unable to breath, even after the massive panic attrack he had the night after the Whomping Willow incident.

Looking around the library, he found his way to the door he knew only staff were allowed to open. His hand bolted for the doorknob, tugging on it to find it locked. Pulling out his wand, he tried to unlock it with no luck. His fists pounded on the door in frustration, he needed to get in there, he knew you were in there, he could feel it. You’d trusted him enough to tell him about this place and as much as he was aware you didn’t want to see him, he needed to see you. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please open the door! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t think- I didn’t know!”

Severus hung his head low as he pressed himself to the door. This was as close to you as he knew he’d ever get again. He’d ruined any chance of a relationship with you and you were right to hide away from him. He was destructive, ruining anything he touched, anyone who spoke with him or dare come near him and perhaps that was why Potter felt the need to hex and curse him every time they saw one another. He couldn’t let it go on, he had to try and mend things, if not to at least make up for what he’d done.

“Please, at least let me undo what I’ve done. I can cure you and if you don’t want to hear what I have to say then I’ll leave. But please let me fix this.” Severus shut his eyes, tears threatening to fall as his forehead met the door. He stood there in silence, wondering if he’d hurt you so bad you’d abandoned the one place you felt safe in this school, if he’d done to you what Potter had to him. He’d become what he hated and was about ready to retreat to his dorm when he heard the doorknob turning, the door slowly opening as he took a step back, his eyes wide as he wiped away the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

Your eyes met his and you felt your disappointment melt into anger. Your jaw hardened as you locked your teeth together, doing everything you could to keep from speaking another word to Severus. You watched him snap out of your gaze and begin to fumble with his robes, pulling out a small stone and presenting it to you. You stared down at it confused, wondering what kind of apology this was meant to be.

“It’s a bezoar. I know it’s not the most comfortable solution, but it’s all I have,” Severus offered it to you, hoping you’d take it, that he could try and regain your trust once again. He held out hope as he watched your posture relax the slightest bit, your hand hesitantly reaching for the stone. He wouldn’t dare speak a word or move a muscle until you indicated what it was you wished of him next. From this moment forward, he would do nothing you didn’t ask for, say nothing you didn’t demand.

Tossing the stone into your mouth, you swallowed hard and groaned at the feeling of its rough texture travelling down your throat. You heaved for air, but for the first time since you ran out of The Three Broomsticks, you found yourself able to relax your jaw, your fear of spilling your guts disappearing. Straightening your back, you looked at Severus who seemed unable to move or breath, waiting for your command to do so as his wide eyes stared desperately into yours. You’d never felt so conflicted, your feelings for him clouding your instinct to slap him for what he’d done to you. You never felt so humiliated, so used in your life. Severus had gone from the person who’d treated you like a normal human being to the one person in your life who’d hurt you worse than you ever thought you could be hurt. But you still couldn’t find it in you to shove him away and lock him out of your life. So instead, you closed the door behind you and stood your ground with your arms crossed, waiting for Severus to explain himself.

“I-I’m so sorry.” He nearly choked on his words as they came out when he saw the look on your face, the frown you wore. No word would ever be large enough to truly depict how he felt right now and as much as he wanted to say more, all he could do was apologize.

“You already said that,” you mumbled in a whisper, speaking against your own trauma from the truth serum that Severus had given you. He looked so sincere, so desperate for your forgiveness. You’d never seen him like this before, clawing at someone else for something only they could give. He’d always been such a strong person even if others would disagree. He wasn’t presumptuous as he was proud of himself and his achievements, but the person who stood before you now had no pride left to show. He had nothing but regret and torment in his eyes.

“And I can never say it enough. I should never have put that potion in your drink and I wish I could take it back. I didn’t think you were being genuine. I was so sure you were lying to me.” He spoke honestly, hoping you’d have faith he was being truthful with every word he spoke, that you could at least put the trust in him he failed to put in you.

“Why?” You couldn’t let go of the sheer stupidity of what he’d done. His reasoning didn’t make the slightest bit of sense to you, and if you could understand why he did it, maybe you could begin to forgive him.

“Why? Because you’re you and I’m me and why would I ever believe you of all people would be interested in me?” Severus went on as if the question was an absurd one to ask, the answer so obvious, even a house elf could see it. He wondered how you couldn’t see his hesitation, why you’d ever think he’d simply accept the fact you were interested in him.

“Because I said that I did!” you said bluntly, rather offended he questioned your intentions at all. Never had anyone second guessed you to this extreme before and you didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

“I know, I just-”

“Didn’t trust my word?” You looked completely heart broken, more so then when you realized he’d slipped truth serum into your drink. He could see trust was something you cherished between those you let close to you and he’d completely ruined his chance at gaining it from you.

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not after the way the school decided to brand me all those years ago.” Severus had no hope of convincing you what he did was justifiable because even he knew it wasn’t. All he could hope for was for you to understand his hesitation, to understand why he had to do something when you approached him to see if you were genuine in your intentions.

“I’ve never treated you that way,” you retorted.

“I know. I’m sorry and I’ll understand if you’ll never want to speak with me again.” He put the ball in your court, completely at your mercy. Whatever it was you decided to do, he would respect it, but every inch of him begged you to give him another chance, to let him have a proper opportunity to have someone in his life that would care for him, to have a happy ending. But as Severus stared into your blank eyes, he could tell he hadn’t swayed you in any way. It was his fault and as he had nothing more to say, all he could do was turn around to walk away from everything that could have been.

“That’s it?” Severus stopped as you called after him, turning around in surprise as he stared at you blankly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re just going to walk away? You’re not going to try and fight? For-for this?” You gestured between yourselves with a sliver of hope in your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t have expected much from him, but a part of you hoped he’d be a little more resilient to giving up on you, especially after all that time you’d spent admiring him from afar.

“I-I didn’t think there was anything to fight for,” he said truthfully, looking at you with wide eyes as he walked back to you. He stared at you intently, trying to read you, to figure you out with all these mysteries surrounding you. How could someone so beautiful fall for him, want to be with him enough you’d be willing to give him a chance at redemption when his own best friend wouldn’t give him such a thing?

You took a step forward, wanting so badly to have all those talks with him you’d dreamed of having, to enjoy spending time with him if not to simply read together and find comfort in each other's company. You wanted to go back and give him a chance to redo the evening, to have it end much differently than yours and if it were anyone else, you would never have given him the chance to explain himself. But it wasn’t someone else, it was him. It was the one person in this whole world who you thought could break your curse, who seemed immune to it.

“Severus, why don’t you treat me like everyone else in this school?”

Severus stood in silence a moment as he thought back to how easily everyone worshipped the ground you walked on, how you always seemed to have a trail of people behind you, admiring you for no reason other than your looks. His thoughts wandered to Lily and how Potter seemed just as enchanted with her as the rest of the school did to you, how he’d only become intrigued with Lily after finding out she was a kind witch who lived in Cokeworth.

“I just-I suppose I just never thought of you in that way because I didn’t know you, and I never thought you’d be interested in knowing me.” Severus tried to be as honest as he could, watching you with hope. He held onto the fact you hadn’t run away, that you’d given him the chance to speak, to hear him and understand him. You were so kind, nothing like he would have ever imagined and he knew if he was ever so lucky as to get a second chance with you, he would never take it for granted again.

“Well, I am,” you said with a smile. You’d always been rather talented at reading people after the absurdity you’d seen from others, and Severus had truly wanted to make amends. You prayed your faith in him wasn’t misplaced, that he meant every word he said and that he saw what you saw. “If you are.”

“I am.” The words flew out of his mouth faster than he could process. He jumped at the chance you offered, beyond excited for the happy life he saw ahead of him. “Would you perhaps like to try again?”

You nodded your head eagerly, excited for your do-over date. You almost wanted to forget what had happened today, to approach things with him from a fresh perspective. “Valentine’s day is coming up. Would you care to share a cup of tea with me at Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop?”

“Really?” Severus couldn’t believe how kind hearted you were, how willing you were to see the good in others and how tremendously lucky he was to have found you, or more accurately, have you find him.

“So long as I’m buying this time,” you nodded with a laugh, eliciting a smile from Severus as you began making your way out of the library. You smiled as you finally got to see the real him, the person you grew infatuated with, the boy who you saw hope for love with. For the first time in your life, you felt content, excited for the spark you felt growing inside your heart. You could experience love for the first time in your life, real, pure love and you couldn’t wait to see what more it had in store for you.

#Severus Snape #Severus x reader #Severus Snape x reader #Snape x reader #young Severus Snape #young Snape x reader #my fanfic #my writing #pro Snape #snapedom

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scribblingfangirl · 3 years

Text

WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

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Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings: // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

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Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected.

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.)

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you.

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie.

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been.

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly.

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before.

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible.

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there.

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.”

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing.

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence.

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open.

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?).

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again.

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be.

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?)

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room.

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.”

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.)

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!”

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.”

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit.

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!”

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej @ifilwtmfc

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #luke patterson x reader #reggie peters x reader #alex mercer x reader #jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #my writing #viascribbles

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Fred Weasley

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- It’s sort of hard to ignore the Weasley twins, isn’t it? Tall redheads who play on the Quidditch team and are always bringing attention to themselves in one way or another? Little hard to miss.

- Speaking of being on the Quidditch team, that’s how the two of you first meet which, depending on what house you’re in, means that you either met during tryouts for the Gryffindor team or after/during a game against Gryffindor.

- The competitive and teasing Weasleys are going to mess with you either way but how they; mainly Fred, tease you somewhat depends on which house you’re in.

- The teasing which occurs regardless of what team you’re on includes: them playfully telling you not to screw something up, Fred smiling and insisting that you’re doing something wrong, him giving you compliments he jokingly pretends to not want to admit, etc.

- If you’re on the Gryffindor team then he’ll have more of an excuse to be around you and be more touchy, ruffling your hair, picking you up in a hug when you guys win a game, softly pushing/bumping shoulders with you, etc. Him and George are the bane of your existence and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

- It’s after one of your games that he finally asks you out. If you’re on the other team then you’d probably have to lose for him to do so, so sorry about that.

- He comes up to you and cheekily says “good game y/l/n” before asking “think you’d want to celebrate with me at Hogsmeade this weekend?”. This means that you either happily agree or teasingly ask what you’re celebrating, reminding him that your team lost.

“Why, you’re celebrating another great fight against the ultimate victor, of course!” He answers in an exaggerated voice, tossing his hair back while sticking his noise in the air.

“Alright, alright, sure. I’ll go with you to Hogsmeade.” You laugh in reply as the two of you walk towards the school.

- So yes, your first date takes place in the little village near the school. He keeps his arm around you as you walk in the snow together and talk. He also probably drags you to the joke shop which, knowing him, you probably should have anticipated said visit. He’s just as cheeky as always but hey, that’s what you like about him, right?

- The two of you share your first kiss about a week later, right before you go to get ready for another game; or at least before he does. He’d playfully asked for a little good luck kiss and you’d pressed one to his cheek. He hummed, saying that he “might need a little more than that”, giving you a grin as he pulls you in by your collar and presses a kiss to your lips.

“That’s better.” he’d said before sending you a wink and running off to get ready, leaving you standing there flustered yet happy.

- And just like that, the sneaky, secondhand robe wearing redhead had officially stolen your heart.

- Tons of pda. He’s a touchy boy and he loves loving on you; he can never get enough of it.

- Fred’s used to sharing affection and attention with a bunch of other people so he’s always eager to have yours. Surprise him with a hug or a kiss on the cheek and he’s a happy boy.

- His hand is constantly on your thigh. Sometimes it’s purposefully placed there, other times he’ll just rest it there without thinking after he pats you on the leg.

- Hugs from behind. He loves to whisper things in your ear or duck his head down to brush his lips against your neck, making you giggle and squirm as he holds on tight.

- Temple kisses.

- Teasing words leading into kisses. He likes making playful comments, his face moving closer to yours before he finally connects your lips.

- Sweet, soft kisses. He’ll just keep going in for another as you’re half distracted, doing so until you finally giggle and softly push him away.

- Him stealing kisses from you before you can do anything, either on your lips or somewhere else. He likes quickly giving you a peck before running off with George to do something.

- Lots of snogging.

- He can cuddle you in just about any position and be happy but he has a particular fondness for when you lay in the crook of his arm with his head resting against yours.

- He always pulls you to sit down next to him whenever you’re in the great hall together; or wherever else you can be together.

- Him lounging between your legs; especially when you’re with your friends. He likes resting the back of his head on your stomach/chest and feeling you wrapped around him.

- Soft looks. He acts like this cheeky menace all the time but he’s really a softy when he’s with you. George gives him smug and amused looks when he catches him looking at you like you’re the moon.

- He likes calling you things like pretty girl, lovely, and sweetheart.

- Flirting and pick up lines. Usually you flirt with someone when you want to date them but not Fred. No, Fred started really flirting with you after you became a couple.

- Teasing; in every sense of the word. Poor girl, you’re never left alone.

- He thinks spooking you is highly amusing. He likes seeing you jump or jolt at his sudden appearance, loving the way you slap his arm and whine at him.

- Pranks, both getting them played on you and helping him play them on others.

- Getting roped into things. He’s the ringleader of most of the twins shenanigan's so its only natural.

- Mini competitions and bets. He’s a competitive boy and he likes that determined look on your face; and bragging to you or watching you brag when one of you wins.

- Passing notes in class.

- Sneaking around the school together using the marauders map and his sheer knowledge of the school.

- Getting to keep his old sweaters when he outgrows them. They’re the only piece of clothing that he can really give you, considering everything else can go to his siblings.

- Sometimes, you’ll get him a little gift and he won’t be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day. He cherishes it; especially when you aren’t there to see. Occasionally, he’ll just hold it in his hands and smile when he’s alone in his room.

- Snowball fights and snowman building.

- Being dragged into Zonko’s shop whenever you go to Hogsmeade.

- Study dates. He usually gets very distracted by you and just tries to persuade you to go do something more entertaining. He’s never been a big fan of academics, not unless he’s trying to mess with you and teasingly not pay you attention when you want it.

- He probably likes writing stupid stuff on you or your things, stuff like “Fred’s property” or “Gryffindor rules”, etc.

- Celebrating with him after he wins Quidditch games and being invited to join his family whenever they go to professional ones.

- Compliments and flattery. “How is my beautiful girlfriend”, “have I told you how amazing you are today”, most of the Weasleys know how to get what they want through flattery and he’s no exception. He also just likes making you flustered.

- He believes in you more than anyone else. He knows exactly how impressive you are and what you can do.

- Visiting the burrow whenever you can.

- Molly loves you; especially if you try to keep Fred out of trouble. You’re like another daughter to her once she sees that you’re a good match and a good influence on her lovely little man.

- George third wheeling a lot or having double dates with you; when he does manage to get a girlfriend. Although, it’s not really third wheeling when it’s Georgie, is it? He’s just a part of you.

- Getting to hear all about their new products and how they work, occasionally helping them come up with things or explaining why they wont work/testing them out. He gets sort of shy when you earnestly call him brilliant.

- Visiting him at the shop and possibly working there if that’s what you want to do.

- Him trying to impress you with his tricks and fishing for your praise. Once again: a bit deprived of attention; though that’s not Molly’s fault.

- He can certainly be a bit of a jerk but he’s always there to comfort you and make you feel better. It’s what older brothers do best.

- Jealous boy. He’ll always clench his jaw when he sees you smiling or laughing with someone else. He’ll come over and kiss your head, interrupting the two of you and asking “what’s going on over here?” when he thinks they’re getting a little too comfy. He’ll definitely prank the hell out of someone if he learns they made a move on you.

- Protective. He’s an older brother to a younger sister, it’s in his blood to watch over little ladies that he cares about; even if he gives you hell from time to time.

- The two of you don’t really “fight” but you do bicker quite a bit, though that’s usually resolved fairly easily since you’ll pretty much just move on and forget about it. If you do fight fight then he’ll usually try to play it off and insist that the issue isn’t a big deal which doesn’t help his case.

- If he was in the wrong then he’d give you an “okay, okay, I’m sorry” but it’s usually a bit too late at that point. He’ll give you a little space before he comes around and gives you a proper apologize, acting too cute for you to stay mad at him.

- If you’re in the wrong then he’ll be serious for once, arguing with you until it’s settled and you apologize/agree to never do it again. Only then will he let out a breath and an “okay” and wait a minute before pulling you into a hug.

- Lots of I love you’s, usually sung out playfully. He loves hearing you say it to him too; even if he only shows it by failing to stop himself from smiling.

- The two of you have a long and happy life together. He knows that you’re the one for him and is eager to start a little army of hellraisers with you.

#hp imagines #hp imagine #hp headcanons #hp headcanon #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagines #Fred Weasley headcanons #Fred Weasley headcanon #harry potter imagines #harry potter headcanons

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freefallingforfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Fated- A Soulmate AU

Chapter I

Rating: M for Mature

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Jedi!Reader

Summary: Everyone in the galaxy knew of the Red String of Fate. It was the one thing every single individual had in common: a small, crimson string tied into a neat bow, permanently secured around their ring finger. These strings, no matter how far they stretched or how tangled they got, would never, could never, break. The Red String of Fate, invisible to everyone but the wearer, was tethered to your destined, the other half of your soul. A soulmate. Everyone had one. Well, everyone except for the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, that is.

Authors Note: (TELL ME YOUR PREFERENCE) Hi all! I have this written in two different ways, one with an OC, and the other as reader with the pronouns “You”. Which would you prefer to read? OC or reader, let me know in the comments!

Everyone in the galaxy knew of the Red String of Fate. It was the one thing every single individual had in common: a small, crimson string tied into a neat bow, permanently secured around their ring finger. These strings, no matter how far they stretched or how tangled they got, would never, could never, break. The Red String of Fate, invisible to everyone but the wearer, was tethered to your destined, the other half of your soul.

A soulmate.

Everyone had one.

Well, everyone except for the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, that is. His own string, while wrapped snuggly around his ring finger, fell short a soulmate, cut off prematurely. It dangled limply, a meager two feet in length off his finger, leading to no one.

There were some nights, when he gazed at his beskar covered reflection, that he thought, maybe it was for the best that he didn’t have a soulmate. After all, who could come to love someone that they could not see? Could not touch? Could not ever truly know unless wed?

But then there were the other nights, the nights where he would agonize over the loss of someone he never truly had, of someone who never existed. If he wasn’t fated to anyone, why did it still feel like half of him was missing?

Those nights were far more frequent since he had found the kid, since he started to long for a life of more than hunting quarries and running from IMPs. He wanted someone to come to after a long day of hunting, a riduur who he could bare his face to, who could help him shed his layers of beskar at days end, and who he could hold through the cold nights aboard the Razor Crest.

He stared at that cut off string now, held in his unbound hand as the ‘Crest flew through hyperspace on autopilot. He twirled it around his fingers, un-gloved but bared to no one, wondering why the universe had not saw fit to give him a mate, but give him all the emotional turmoil that came with having one.

Throughout his years, the Mandalorian had experienced all the symptoms of mate withdrawal. The body aches, the sudden sensation of feeling incapable of breathing, the feeling of his heart clenching in his chest so tightly he thought it might burst within him.

And then there were the dreams. The dreams of her.

Din could never see her face; it was always, always obscured by something. Usually in was her hair, soft locks, rich in color, that fell gently down her back. Her back, that was always to him as she ran through the halls of a large ship, dark in color, save for the splashes of red light that danced across the halls. He always chased her, got so close to her he could almost touch her, but then she would dissipate into the air, and Din would wake.

He always woke from those dreams in a cold sweat, heart pounding loudly in chest, his lungs greedily taking in air as though he had forgotten to breath while dreaming. The longing would settle in when he opened his eyes and she was no where to be found. He yearned for her so much it physically hurt.

It was her, his soulmate, he knew it in his gut, but still, the string tied neatly around his finger hung mockingly at his side.

The Mandalorian heaved a great sigh as he dropped the string and lifted his tired body from the pilot’s seat, the ship was set to course, and it was time for bed. Beside him, in his floating pram, the Child slept soundly. Din smiled fondly beneath his helmet before pressing the button to close up the pram for the night, it followed silently behind him as he made his way to his quarters, turning in for the night to an empty bed.

***

The quarry was not a hard man to find or capture by any means. A rodian smuggler by the name of Sio Thule, wanted for the disappearance of a large shipment of spice, was not a clever being.

The tracking fob had led the Mandalorian to a small pub on an outer-rim desert planet. There, Din had found the rodian three sheets to the wind, loudly bragging about the stolen spice. He was too intoxicated to put up a fight, and a swift jab in the stomach was all the Mandalorian needed to bring the bounty down. The Mandalorian grabbed the rodian by the hood of his tunic, dragging him from the pub while he bemoaned his gut punch.

Then, when that pained had faded, and the reality of his situation settled in, the roadian, like all of his quarries, started his attempt at bargaining.

“Hey! Hey, buddy,” from behind him, the rodian fought to capture the attention of his captor, the Mandalorian hunter. “Maybe we can help each other out, yeah?”

Din ignored the attempt at communication, use to quarries attempting to bargain their way out of their situation. The one before the Child had attempted to bargain his way to freedom with credits, but it ended the same every single hunt. A quarry encased in carbonite, ready to transport back to the guild.

“Hey big guy, I know you can hear me up there. I can help, I can help you!” The rodian was attempting to right himself, as Din was still dragging him, but was having little success.

“How could you possibly help me?” The question had ben rhetorical, but the rodian didn’t seem to notice, and took this as a sign that the Mandalorian was up for discussing his potential release.

“Back in the pub,” he started, “You said you were lookin’ for a Jedi.”

Apparently, despite whining profusely about his “injury”, the rodian had managed to hear the brief exchange between the Mandalorian and the pub bartender.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” The Mandalorian stopped in his tracks, Sio, who could now finally regain his bearings, stood up from the ground. He attempted to wipe the debris from his clothes from his unceremonious escort to the ‘Crest, when the Mandalorian cuffed him in on fluid movement.

Din had been tasked weeks ago with returning his Foundling to its own kind, the Jedi, and he had found hide nor hair of the order of sorcerer’s. He was currently looking for more Mandalorians who may have escaped the Imperial attack on the covert to help him by Creed, and was coming up with just as few leads.

Sio gulped visibly as the Mandalorian in his intimidating beskar armor, stared down at him intensely.

“Not much,” Sio attempted to keep his voice confident, free of the fear that had made its home in the pit of his stomach, “Just where one so happened to appear the Day the Galaxy Shook.”

Beneath his helm, the Mandalorian quirked a brow, “Appeared?”

The rodian nodded vigorously, “Yeah, yeah, appeared. Out of thin air,” Sio wiggled his fingers through the air expressively, “They say she was thrown from the Netherworld of the Force.”

“The Netherworld of the Force?” Din said slowly, testing the phrase on his tongue.

Sio tried to plaster on a confident look on his face, “Yea, yea! The Netherworld, where the Jedi reside after death. Like the afterlife or something.”

“The afterlife?” Din grunted, tugging harshly on the rodians cuffs, “You’re wasting my time.” Din pulled his quarry forward with strength much greater than the other beings, and Sio stumbled forward, struggling to keep his footing.

A Jedi booted from the afterlife on the Day the Galaxy Shook, now that was an inventive tale. Perhaps what the rodian lacked in intelligence, he made up for in imagination. In all his years of hunting, Din could honestly say that that was the most outlandish story he had ever been told as a means of bribery.

Not giving up, Sio called out to the Mandalorian once more, “Hold on, hold on, I’m telling the truth!” Sio caught his bearings quicker than Din would have liked, and resumed talking almost instantly. Din couldn’t wait to put this guy in carbonite. At least then he would finally shut up.

“Let me show you! I bring you to where the Jedi showed up, you can confirm the rumors yourself. Just let me go in return.” The rodian was begging now, his voice cracking at his last attempt to persuade the Mandalorian, “What do you have to lose?”

At Sio’s words the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks once more, the rodian, who hadn’t been prepared for the abrupt stop, smacked into Din’s back, the hard beskar rattling his skull.

“Dank ferric,” Sio muttered, rubbing his green head as Din mulled over the rodians words.

What did he have to lose? Some time maybe, but not much else. If the rodian was telling the truth, which Din doubted, then he could finally have a lead on finding one of the Child’s kind. If not, well, it wasn’t like this quarry was smart enough to give him the slip, he would still collect his bounty.

Din spared a glance down at his own hand, where the Red String of Fate was tied neatly, visible to him even beneath his gloves. The Day the Galaxy Shook. The day Din looked down at his hand and suddenly- his string lead somewhere. Din’s heart squeezed inside his chest. Maybe…

After a long stretch of silence that left the rodian sweating, Din finally spoke.

“Show me.”

Chapter II

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froog-water · 3 years

Text

howdy and hello

and thank you for finding this! If you enjoyed this madness that I have somehow managed into a story, then, please do not be afraid to interact! I am relatively new to the whole Apex scene and am, obviously, prone to make mistakes. If there is anything wrong, like spelling errors or something like that, just point it out and I will try to fix it :) This goes without saying but, apologies in advance if Bloodhound appears to be OOC or anything along those lines. As I said, I'm new to all this but I still wanted to try my luck with writing something so, yeah. Though the reader is written with the intention of being a female (she/her), there is really no specific mention of their gender (unless I missed it somewhere) so for now, the reader is greatly gender neutral :) Other than that, I hope whoever reads this likes it. This story is purely selfish and my response to the clear lack of good Bloodhound fics out there in the world

Upwards Over the Mountain (Bloodhound x Reader)

Chapter 1; next

From somewhere outside, beyond your stone walls, the world raged. The overhead night sky rumbled thick and dark with heavy rain clouds that every so often flashed with brilliant lightning and shook the ground with terrible thunder. Tonight was the last good storm of the year before winter set in to turn everything to ice and chill, and Mother Nature was holding nothing back.

The wind howled painfully and threatened to rip the bar's front door clean off its rusty, old hinges. Worriedly, you pass the rickety things a brief look, unsure if the storm would make due on its promise to ruin your night. Rain hammered endlessly on the ceiling and your lights gave a concerning flicker - there was still time yet.

As your hands busied themselves with the cleaning of the day's mess, wiping down tables, and stacking plates and glasses for washing, your mind wandered to the security of your late-evening patrons. You whisper to yourself, and whatever god was listening, a silent prayer for their safe journey home.

The town you had precariously made your home was a terribly small farming community nestled tightly to the base of a mountain, families here were numbered and small and people were old and simple-minded. At the center of this plain society sits your bar, the beating heart of all the people, where conversations were light and bubbled easily with the flow of alcohol and food. Your connection to this hub of activity, being its sole owner, meant that on a near-daily basis you had the privilege of intruding in on these strange people's lives, of which they were more than eager to allow you entry.

Though in the beginning, you tried to keep them all at a safe arms-length, smiling at their jokes only when necessary, they had a way of seeping under your skin. The country life was most infectious and her inhabitants, even more so. They were plain people plagued by simple problems and naively narrow mindsets and it was all so intriguing to you in a sort of enjoyable manner. Their ways of life, views on the world and politics, the way they treated each other, and, of course, their stories. Especially their stories. All this brought out of you a sense of interest, albeit a somewhat back-handed one. The imagination of these people, whether it be for the better or worse, always struck you as so strange and wonderful. The fishermen who strolled into your bar would regale you with the tales of their daily catches and how the ocean had favored them thanks to their abiding of some ancient traditions. The farmers would entertain you with wild gestures of their experiences in the fields, proclaiming with great conviction that they had seen something almost magical in the early rays of the dawn. Such simple things when compared to the true, harsh reality of the machine-driven world beyond your doorstep.

Having known nothing but bitter metal and concrete jungles for the majority of your early life, these seemingly insignificant worries of old entranced you and teased out a seemingly lost sense of childishness. Despite your heavy scrutiny, these people prevail and their stories linger long after your doors shut for the evening.

Your thoughts often drifted back to their many tales, replaying their absurdity like television in your head in times of quiet with gentle bemusement. It was always more preferable to occupy your time with fairytales than to dwell on more intrusive voices. Tonight, however, the usual whimsical wives' tales were instead replaced with ill tidings.

Again the front door pushes inwards as the wind picked up and the glass windows rattled in place. You exhale loudly in a desperate attempt to soothe your racing heart. This bar was old and stable, earning the title of being reliable after many years of resistance to this tortuous climate, and though it whined at the force of nature beckoning down on it, you had to trust that it would not fail you this time. Your night was not going to be ruined by faulty foundations.

You fill your arms with dirty cutlery and take it back to the kitchen to be washed and packed away. While walking you pass the front window, a beautiful piece of stained glass gone yellow in its corners from age, and there you hear the noise again. Your mind immediately flickers back to the prominent story that had not left your consciousness since the first rumblings of the storm.

The caw of a raven.

A large part of you scoffed at yourself and your childish notions for even humoring the idea. It was absolutely, totally, 100% ridiculous. But, you muse to yourself, there was nothing else to listen to and your mind had a tendency to drift away.

You had heard this wild tale about the Winter ravens from a group of old ladies who had visited the bar in your early years of employment. They had occupied a large table in the corner of the room and blew tobacco smoke out their pipes whenever you approached them. Eventually, they eased into your sweet hospitality and offered you some advice, curling their elderly fingers in a motion for you to sit with them. Their ‘advice’, if you could be so generous with the word, was to never feed the ravens who arrived in winter. They foretold of a great danger to those who stupidly talked to these birds and of a stranger who followed them, whose eyes glowed in ominous moonlight and who was nothing like anyone had ever seen before. How vague a description but how fascinating it all was. It captivated you at the time, how entirely peculiar this story was and how it had entrapped the women in its grasp of fear and worry.

It was in their wrinkled, old eyes that you wondered if maybe there was such a person, if perhaps their story was somehow based on true events. But your rational mind was quick to corral your thoughts and you slipped back into unphased independence. It was just a fancy story made up by people who had nothing better to do than to smoke and spread rumors.

Even so, through all the talking down and condescending, the story still held a tight grip over you. And it did not help that over the storm you could hear the very ravens you had been so warned about. The previous winter was bizarrely devoid of these animals, drawing even some backward comments from the more normal of your patrons. It seems that this year, the birds were determined to make amends for their absence.

Over the clattering of glass and metal and the ever bellowing of the storm, you could still hear the birds calling. They scream loudly, their voices seeming to get closer to the front door with every passing utterance as if drawing in on your location. Despite everything, the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smile. How exciting it would be if such a wild story was true. Imagine the looks on the ladies' faces if you were to tell them you stole a look at their raven stranger or even, heavens forbid, you spoke with them. The bird outside caws again and, against all your better judgment, you stop your washing of the plates and quickly dash for the door. A soapy hand grasps the handle and before you could reason with yourself to stop being so ridiculous and easily persuaded, pulls it open to reveal a world wracked with night and storm.

Immediately, the biting cold of the rain stings your bare face and the wind pulls mercilessly at your clothes. A hand shoots up to cover your eyes and the other grasps the collar of your coat closed, a feeble attempt to remain steady in the torrent. In the darkness of the night, your eyes squint, darting up into the sky to find any sight of your midnight visitors. They sounded so close, as if sitting right on your front porch waiting for you to open and allow them inside. Unsurprisingly the ravens were nowhere to be seen, supposedly their black bodies giving them the advantage of hiding perfectly in the night. Surprisingly, however, when your eye level lowered to the empty street before you, you caught sight of the outline of a figure in the rain.

In the instant, all your whimsical fantasies and daydreams flee your head and are replaced instead with very real concern. That was a person.

“Hey!” Your voice hardly makes a dent over the orchestra of water and thunder and you swallow hard before trying again. “Hey!” You yelled, your free hand coming down from your eyes and cupping your mouth. This seems to have finally grabbed the attention of the troubled figure and they suddenly turn in your direction. The moment your eyes make contact, you barely manage to stifle a shocked gasp. Two reflective disks stare back at you, catching the light of the storm in an almost hypnotizing way - you were sure that had the moon been out, you could have mistaken them for glowing eyes. The story of the raven stranger starts afresh in your head but you quickly shake free of its grasp. Now was not the time to reminisce on fictitious gossip - right now there was a person who needed your help getting out of the storm.

You beckon the figure with urgent hand movements and a hasty side-step, revealing the warm glow of the bar inside as invitation. Your message was clear - please come inside. Luckily, the stranger was willing to follow your orders, reacting before you could even blink, and swiftly making their way towards you in powerful, strong strides. You hold the door open with your shoulder as they approach and it is only when they enter the doorway do you finally get your first good look at the figure.

Your first thought - they were much larger than they had appeared to be while standing in the darkness. Closing the door behind them you try your best to remain aloof and polite, casting your eyes to the floor so as not to stare. With the door closed the bar fell back into subtle stillness and you could finally come to bearing with your panicking mind. You had just invited a most odd-looking stranger into your bar, one who fits to the T the very weird description of an even weirder story and now, you were alone with such a stranger. A part of you, the one who scorned your carelessness, lashed at the back of your mind - this was a most stupid and potentially dangerous folly. But there was no going back now. It would be rude to turn possible patrons away especially in this sort of storm.

“Well,” You remark a little too breathlessly, shaking your wet head and walking behind the front bar. You reach underneath the long table and produce a towel with which you begin to pat dry your hair. “What horrible weather.” You offer the stranger your best winning smile - this would be easy, you try to convince yourself, you know how to deal with all manner of people and though this particular one, clad in heavy hunters gear and animal furs, was a little startling, they were just like anyone else who strolled in through your doors. You force your anxieties to leave your chest as you exhale and prepare to make light conversation.

“What an odd coincidence this all is.” Your voice carried around the bar without much-needed volume, the atmosphere somewhat lightening as you broke the quiet. The stranger remained motionless, their head turning ever so slightly to scan their surroundings. You push on. “I had no idea anyone was even out on such a night as this. Had I not looked out the door at that exact moment, who knows how long you would have been-”

“This is The Drunken Mule, is it not?” The stranger suddenly spoke, ripping the carpet right out from under your feet with how loud and potent their voice was. After a minute of composure, you nod even though they were not looking in your direction. Something about their tone made you narrow your eyes and set your warnings on high alert.

“Yes.” You answer strongly. “A most unfortunate name.” Out of nowhere the stranger rounds on you and steps forward, drawing you into their mesmerizing appearance with their illuminated lenses and towering physique.

“Vhere is the owner, Andante?” There it was again, unmistakable and oh so violent. Carried over their heavy accent and muffling mask, the anger in their voice was most noticeable. At the rising sense of threat, you drop nearly all of your trained mannerisms and you furrow your brow. Your thoughts momentarily flicker to where your gun was stashed and you shudder at the thought of retrieving it. Never have you had a fight occur before in this bar and tonight, you were not looking to make this encounter be your first.

“What business do you have with him?” You ask with professional coolness that only appeared to irk the stranger for their hand twitched and an annoyed scoff could be heard. You had to keep it cool despite their obvious rising temper and though your heart beat around your ribs like a wild rabbit caught in a cage, you knew better than to back down.

“That is of my own.” They shoot back with half-bitten venom.

“I am afraid not.” You replay placidly, swallowing your bubbling fear in favor of remaining in control, “Andante More died last spring. I am the sole inheritor of both his bar and his inn. So whatever business you have with him, you also have with me.” Thankfully, your voice did not betray how shaky your knees had become and you puff your chest out and glare in an effort to portray false courage.

There was a moment of tense quiet, neither one of you moving or speaking, all that could be heard was the constant drumming of rain on the roof. Then suddenly, movement from the stranger, and although you cannot see their face, you can most definitely feel contemplation slowly corrode their malice. This action, along with your revelation, made the stranger hesitate in their defense then deflate in an almost defeat, although it was hardly discernible under all that heavy clothing and armor.

“I ask again,” You pry further, your arms crossing over your chest and your trained eyes never once leaving their daunting outline. “What is your business here?” A moment of silence passes before the stranger manages to speak, their voice devoid of their previous hostility but not of mild irritation - you could tell that they were trying to rein in their heated emotions even if some residue still clung to their words.

“I had an arrangement vith Andante. I have a cabin out in the mountains, he vas to maintain it vhile I vas away. I vas kept busy last year and vas unable to visit until now. It vas not in my knowledge that Andante had passed.” They were certainly quieter now, their voice smoothing out into a relaxed and almost apologetic tone. News of the man's death must have struck a nerve with them and you could feel the room shrink as their fury did. You take in the stranger's words, rolling them over your tongue before deciding how best to answer.

“This is the first I have heard of such an arrangement. Had I known, I would have happily taken up Andante’s duties.” You admit plainly, allowing some sweetness to ooze back into your words and extend out to the stranger in a metaphorical olive branch. You were quick to forgive the grievances of this troubled stranger - a personal fault you had yet to decide was virtuous or not. You would have to wait and see. “Is there a problem with your cabin?” It was obvious what the answer was by the way the stranger had arrived in all their unfriendliness and from basic deduction, but you still asked the question with genuine concern.

“It has been left unchecked. The roof is torn and the rest is in disarray.” They replied after a moment of debate, unsure if they were allowed to speak to you after their appalling entrance. Suddenly the stranger lowers their head in a short bow, a gloved hand touching the brim of their helmet. “Please forgive me and my intrusion vith such reiði. I vill leave now.” In a blink of an eye, the stranger had moved to the front door and already had their hand around the handle.

“W-What? Wait!” You react off instinct, a hand reaching out to follow the retreating figure. It was so abrupt to have this person switch between such potential anger to this somehow polite and embarrassed individual that it took you at least a few seconds to gather your bearings. “Wait.” You say again, a tired laugh passing through your lips as they stretched back to their gentle smile, all your pent-up repentance bleeding away into comfort and ease. “I am afraid that I cannot let you leave. Not after all,” you make a motion with your hand, “This.” The stranger does not turn to face you completely, instead, they hover by the exit, offering you only their ear to listen to what you have to say. If they really wanted to, this person could just push their way into the night and you could do nothing to stop them - it was only courtesy that kept them in place long enough for you to speak.

“You say your cabin has a hole in its roof. And I imagine it would not be very pleasant to sleep in, especially on a night like this.” You step out from behind the bar and stride over to the door, moving close enough that you could start to make out the more fine details of their unusual outfit - a collar of thick fur, many odd pockets and bags covering their chest and hips, and a head hidden behind a most bizarre gas mask and goggles. Something about them strikes you as extremely familiar but you cannot remember ever meeting someone quite like this person before. “As I have said earlier, I own Andante’s Inn which, unsurprisingly, is empty this evening.” You manage to edge yourself into the stranger's field of view, successfully bringing their attention back to your face. You smile encouragingly under their unwavering gaze.

“Did you walk here?” Your curiosity gets the better of you and makes its presence known through the form of impertinent questions. The stranger does not answer, rather they slowly and deliberately tip their helmet downwards in a quiet yes. “Then I really cannot let you leave.” You boast, your arms once more folding proudly around your chest. “Please, I insist you stay the night here where, at least, you will not get wet.” They made no moves, showed no indication that they had even heard your request.

“If not for your sake, then for my own.” You add on, your tone gentle and beset with sincere worry, “I would not be able to sleep tonight knowing that I willingly allowed someone to brave this horrible storm alone.” This roused something in the stranger and after a few silent minutes, they nodded in reluctant agreement. Your smile doubled in size and you clapped your hands softly.

“Wonderful! Thank you so much for agreeing.” You bow your head slightly before darting back to the kitchen to secure the bar for the evening. After grabbing your coat and turning the lights off, you return to the waiting stranger and motion for them to follow. Over your shoulder you throw them a tease, winking in a terribly playful and scripted manner.

“Do not worry. Our boarding rates are quite manageable and I may even throw in a free breakfast.”

As the warm smell of sizzling bacon and fried eggs fills the small kitchen in the early hours of the morning, your mind wanders back to the events of the night before. You can not help but cringe pitifully and wrinkle your nose in disgust.

How idiotic you had behaved, how unnecessarily childish you had been - all with a complete stranger no less! It is the most common knowledge to be wary of strangers, especially ones who appear at night dressed as if ready to go to war. What had compelled you to be so reckless and to willingly invite such a danger into your abode? You had put yourself in jeopardy's way all in the name of some old promise of benevolent kindness. Always help people, Andante drilled into your head. Always. Perhaps your unwise behavior was the result of too many late nights or maybe a far too-convincing patron had indulged you in one too many beers. Whatever the cause was, you cursed it wholly.

Over the crescendoing noise of your own self-degradation, the sound of the kitchen doorway creaking brought your head up and towards the solid figure suddenly occupying its space.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, the spatula you have been using to cook the bacon flying up in a defensive position. It takes you only a heartbeat to relax, laughing airly and banishing your vile self-criticisms to be examined on a later date. “You scared me!” You say to the stranger, waving them over to the small, prepared table with a well-oiled smile. “Please,” You motion to the chair, “I woke up feeling rather generous this morning!” After a moment of consideration, the stranger silently slipped forward and took their place at the opposite end of the breakfast table. You afforded them their stoic silence, deciding rather to lead the conversation yourself than to try drag a word out of them. Clearly, the two of you were both still in equal shock over last night's events.

“I have not had the honor of sharing breakfast with someone in quite a long time so forgive if my culinary skills are,” you turn around and slide two pieces of bacon off the pan and onto toast, “lacking.” You lift your eyes to meet their emotionless mask, an unconscious and unwelcome shiver travelling up your spine as the thought of what lay beneath bites at your curiosity. Something was most certainly familiar about them but what exactly it was still eluded you. “Coffee or tea? Or, better yet, do you even want the bacon?”

“Coffee vill do. No sugar. And bacon is velcomed.” They finally speak and greet your ears with a much admired and amused delight - no longer were their words dipped red with unidentified anger but now, rested and offered food, were decent and alluring. Their accent is on full display to your interest and your keen ears lean in. You feel your painted smile shift more in favor of sincerity as you prepared your guest their meal.

“I must commend your sense of timing.” You push on the conversation much to the gratitude of the stranger who eased at your playful words, as did all your patrons. You were the master of teasing people, talking them up with trained comfort and care until eventually they paid you or offered you something more. You were a most tantalizing host. “It was just last week that I had helped old Carter on the hill rebuild his disheveled cattle shed. See, I have never done such a task before and had provided him with…” You pause, carrying over to the table the stranger's made-up breakfast and drink, “an overabundance of supplies.” The silence from the stranger wordlessly implored you to explain where exactly you were heading with this discussion.

“What I mean to say is, you have a roof with a hole in it. Correct?” They nod, the beads hanging from their odd helmet swaying with the motion. “And I have a heap of unused materials just laying around taking up space.” You plop down in your chair with a small huff, “Do you see where I am going with this?”

“You vish to help me?” They ask without missing a beat, taking up your offer with the grace and judgment of a butcher at a slaughterhouse. You blink in surprised confusion.

“Is that so wrong?”

“I know that service from people is not like air - it is not free. Vhat do you intend to gain from helping me?” Though their apprehension to your rather forward proposal was expected, you still felt a twinge of hurt at their words.

“Nothing at all. What could I ever want from you?” You mockingly place a hand over your wounded heart, an attempt to break the blooming ice in the stranger's concerns. “If anything, you will be doing me a service and getting rid of my supplies. Plus, I might add, you technically have paid me already.” This draws a curious reaction from the raven stranger, their head cocking to one side. You stand quickly and from the counter, grab a piece of crumpled paper.

“For the longest time, ever since I first got my hands on the finance documents of this place, I wondered where the hell these quarterly sums of money were coming from. If perhaps, Gods forbid, Andante was involved in a more shady money-making scheme. But now I know.” You offer the paper to the stranger and they take it with a thick, gloved hand. As they scan over your business's finances, their thumb tracing over a particular underlined article, the very one you had spent all night pondering over. “It's from you, isn’t it? No name, no details. Just money.” You watch them for a reaction, shuffling over to your seat and taking it up once more. “Money you paid Andante to watch over your cabin in the mountains.”

“You are correct.” They answered after a minute, handing back the paper and sealing together the theory you had come up with. You sigh your relief.

“Then it is settled,” You announce, taking your fork and jamming it into your food, “We leave after breakfast.” The stranger waits in strained quiet, an uncomfortable atmosphere ebbing off their totally unreadable appearance. You wonder what could be ticking behind those moonlight lenses of theirs, what kind of person were they really. The same curiosity that compels you to store and maintain the stories of a fantasy people tugged at your chest - this stranger, as unpredictable and bizarre as they are, attracted you more than anything before.

“I eat alone.” They announced suddenly, snapping you violently from your daydream. You shake your head and return to your autopilot hospitality.

“Of course. Down the hall, second door on your left. There is the lounge. It is empty and you are welcome to close the door.” At your orders, they rise from their chair. “Oh and just one more thing.” They pause, training their unblinking mask on your face under which you did not cower. “As crazy as it sounds, I don’t remember asking for your name last night.” The raven stranger tenses at your request, almost as if taken aback by your lack of recognizing them, then lifts a hand to their chest.

“I am Blóth Houndr. You can call me BloodHound.” You tell them your name and they dip their head in acknowledgment. And with that, they collected their food and made their way to the other room.

The sun overhead gave little warmth as you stood in the field, dying blades of long grass coming up and raking across your pants like zombie fingers of the earth. Bloodhound had asked to visit Andante’s grave before departing to the mountains and you were more than willing to oblige. Typically graveyards were somber, cold places, filled with the forlorn memories of people no longer walking. But this place was the furthest thing from that plain description.

Sure, it housed many a sad memory but it certainly was not cold and somber. It occupied the top of a hill, overlooking both the town and neighboring mountains. The air up here was clean and always blew with the faintest hints of lemongrass. In a most unusual way, it was peaceful up here, light and alive as if untouched by time, people, and maybe even death. You hesitate to even call it a graveyard.

In the distance, you could see Bloodhound, their head lowered over the late man’s grave in some unimaginable prayer or curse - you were not sure which they had chosen to say. They were a most weird enigma and you found yourself inclining into them with every passing conversation. People who wore masks obviously had something to hide and you often prided yourself on not being too nosy and digging in on their private business. But with this raven stranger, you could not help but want to know more. No matter how much it pained you to have to admit it. You knew everyone else who lived, worked, or passed through this town but not this one. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger and whip yourself anew. You have to get out more often, have to meet new people, and be reminded of your own insignificance. These old town’s people were incredibly boring and were starting to make you act desperate.

Bloodhound shuffles and you assume their grievances to be over. With a hand full of freshly plucked wildflowers, the last growing of the season, you make your way over to them. Silently, you slip beside them, eyes downcast and focused on Andante’s headpiece. You kiss the tips of your fingers and touch the cold stone - a true sign of admiration.

“I know it is not proper to offer flowers such as these at a grave but,” You bend down and gently place your makeshift bouquet on the dirt floor, “They are so beautiful. And I know he would not have wanted it any other way.” You remain kneeling for longer than you had expected. Suddenly your chest feels tight and something made of iron drops heavy in your stomach. You had never been accompanied to his grave before and apparently being there with someone was enough to draw out of you, long-buried emotion.

“You must forgive him.” You whisper to the open air, your mind slowing and your tongue working off an unpracticed instinct. Your shoulders sag and your knees begin to ache. “Andante was not all there when he died. In his last few days, he could not even remember his own name.” Yellow grass tickles your hands as they follow the engravings of the man's name in stone. “You cannot blame him for forgetting.”

“I do not. I hold no biturð against Andante.'' Bloodhound answered next to you. That weight in your stomach lightens and you find the courage to stand up straight again. “My journey here vas long and left me unfocused. My reiði vas improper and unjustly pointed towards you. I am sorry.”

“Please do not apologize.” You murmur softly, shaking your head in a slow gesture, all the while with your eyes remaining fixed on the grave before you. “We all have our reasons for performing and yours was perfectly adequate.” You finally manage to tear your gaze away from the ground and towards Bloodhound. You are startled to find that they were already looking at you. “You are human under all that, right?” You joke, your signature playfulness sweeping back into control over your actions. Bloodhound curtly nods and you smile, charm gleaming off your eyes. “Then you don’t need to apologize. It is an occupational hazard.”

When Bloodhound had first told you that their cabin was up in the mountains, you had foolishly hoped that it would be a short drive to get to. This whole town was, by all technical reasoning, ‘up in the mountains’ so how much further out could their cabin be? It took you nearly an hour along a treacherous dirt road to finally reach their hidden paradise. By the time you stepped foot out of your dingy old truck, your back was aching and your legs whined to be stretched. The sun was right above your head in a gloriously mild midday. Clearly, your hopes for a short day were quickly going down the drain.

Their cabin was modest, but then again so was everything else here so how much of that was a virtue still hung in the air. You complimented it regardless. The small wooden house blended seamlessly in with the forest scenery, even as the greens turned to yellows and browns, so too did the wonderful dark wood of the house. The trees surrounding the building were tall and ancient which all stretched high above your head, standing tall and unphased by man's will. This was no ordinary house, you said to yourself as you stepped into its shadow, it did not claim itself different from the wild world. Instead, it sat in it all, watching as everything moved untouched around it. You pass a cheeky look at the raven stranger and contemplate if they shared their cabin's sense of independent aura. Bloodhound led you around to the side of their home and even from your viewpoint on the ground you could make out the extent of the damage. After a very minimal inspection, you nod your head, grab the ladder from your truck, and set to work removing the fallen tree branch.

It was a long and tedious job, your hands acquiring many new scraps and splinters and your muscles gaining a sort of stiffness you would regret in the morning. Bloodhound had offered you gloves but you politely declined, you did not wish to ask too much of the stranger and plus, they were doing all the heavy lifting. By the time the sun had started to dip behind the horizon, your work was thankfully nearly complete. With a triumphant and defeated puff, you land ungracefully on the forest floor. Exhaling loudly, you flex your red and sore fingers and watch as your knuckles acquire a purplish tint - it sure was getting colder now. Bloodhound approaches your resting position and sits across from you, a glass of water in their hands. They extend it to you and you gratefully take it.

“Your vork is done here. I vill handle the rest. I thank you again for your rich generosity.” They say, their signature head tilt making an appearance as a sign of unspoken, and unnecessary, gratitude. You scoff and brush them, and their charming words, off with tired bashfulness.

“Please, I had you do most of the hard work.” The water goes down with much praise from your tired body and you relish for a moment in the relaxing quiet of the forest. The air was cold and getting even more so as the sun’s warmth retracted behind trees and clouds. Around you, the world was at a complete silence save for the mere brushing of leaves and the odd call of a bird. You open your eyes at this sound and see before you a raven pretched surprisingly on Bloodhound's extended forearm. It looked at home on their arm and playfully nipped and pulled at the many beads dangling from their unusual helmet. With the back of their forefinger, they gently stoke the black bird's chest feathers, a forgein whisper escaping their masked mouth.

It was a marvelous sight indeed, something you had never seen before and you were certain to never see again, but you found yourself unable to truly relish in the scenery. Your internal confusion must have made its way to your face for Bloodhound cleared their throat.

“Clouds cover your mind. You look troubled. Something the matter?” They asked and you felt embarrassment well-up in your stomach.

“No, of course not!” You dismiss haphazardly, flicking your hand around your face as if trying to shoo away an annoying fly. When it became clear that your flimsy denial did not please the raven stranger, you relented slightly. “Well, it’s just that…” Never had your words betrayed you like this and you inwardly screamed at yourself for being easily moved to speechlessness. “You seem awfully familiar to me. I mean, I know I have never met you but ever since last night I have this nagging feeling that I have seen you somewhere before?” You frown and break eye-line with Bloodhound’s disk-like goggles, shaking your head slightly in befuddlement and apprehension. You were getting too comfortable with this stranger, going so far as to feel safe enough to share such personal and tripe worries with them as if they were more than but a most perfect and dangerous stranger. Bloodhound hums and sends their bird away with a jolting motion of their arm, rocking back onto their hunches and then into a crossed-legged position. They fold their arms firmly across their chest and watch you as you try to fruitless pluck an answer from your frazzled mind.

“Your intuition rewards you. I am the many seasons vinna of the Apex Games. Perhaps you have seen me on the television.” At this you snap your head around to them and stare with wide, unblinking eyes. Suddenly you laugh and run a hand through your damp hair.

“Oh my god, of course! That makes so much sense!” You practically shout, straightening your back and coming to life in a most comedic fashion. “Then that means,” You turn to Bloodhound again this time with awkwardness flickering in your eyes, “You’re like a celebrity.”

Bloodhound shakes their head in disagreement, “You’re flattery is misguided. I am merely a hunter for the Gods.”

“Still that's… wow.” You breathe, defeated by your own stupidity and reaction. This was the furthest thing from the cool persona you had worked so hard to create and maintain - you were speaking freely and from your own ass. Was it such a shock to your system to meet this wild and unfamiliar person that you could no longer remain in your aloof loft? You were crashing down to earth and embarrassment clawed at your corpse to claim it. You send out a silent prayer that maybe Bloodhound would not notice or take offense to your spontaneous giddiness.

“I must admit.” Bloodhound’s voice wafted to your ears as if through a dream. You turn to look at them, offering what little smile you could muster. “I have never had a reaction so adverse like yours before. Most people just cower.” Their teasing comment turns your smile from artificiale to one more earnest. “I did not think the people here vatched such programs.”

“They don’t.” You answer in between breaths of laughter, catching their amused tone and running with it - playing along with them much to the ease of your heart.

“I had my suspicions that you vere not of this place and now it is clear I am correct.” They admit.

“Oh really? What gave it away? Was I too rowdy? Or was my tongue too harsh, as I have been told many times?” Your face beams with reigniting vigor, the last of your energy seeming to only grow as Bloodhound spoke more with you. They shook their head.

“Nei. Your spirit is strong and velcoming even in the face of danger. And your tongue is quick. The people of this planet, however. They are more…” They hesitate, fingers drumming on their bicep as they rake their brain for the correct words to use.

“Old-fashioned?” You offer, leaning over in their direction. They shake their head again, this time rather absent-mindedly. “Suspicious? Sheltered? Inclined to gossip?”

“You speak such harsh words yet I detect no hostility in them.” Bloodhound gazes at you from behind their mask, eyes flickering over your form in search of any hint of malice. Your airy laugh only relaxes your shoulders and brings to life your weathered face. They notice this and observe with meek delight the way your face stretches with a genuine smile. It was wonderful to see, they had to admit.

“I don’t mean any. The people here are wonderful and kind. They gave me a home when no one else did.” Your heart thumps painfully in your chest and you quickly avert your eyes back to the grassy, forest floor. It was so easy to overshare with Bloodhound, whom you had to hotly remind yourself, was a complete stranger to you. You steady your mounting nerves by plucking yellow grass in your hand and crushing the blades in your fingers. “They do have their flaws however and often, that involves making up wild stories.”

Perhaps Bloodhound had sensed your apprehension for instead of questioning your previous comment or casting you away after your needless exposure, they simply continued on with the conversation. You appreciated that.

“I have had many stories made about myself.” They say, almost proud in their odd accomplishment. “Some say that I am half bat. Others that I am fabulously vealthy. None, I assure you, are true.”

“Are you sure?” You snicker, gathering the courage to once more look them in their moonlight lenses. “That bat one sound awfully convincing.” After your comment, the world falls back into blissfully silence. The air between you two feels somewhat lighter and you breathe deeper, taking into your lungs the smell of oak, of cold earth, and of the open wilderness all around. While you know you will kick yourself later for all that you have allowed yourself to get away with, in this moment you are relaxed and content - happy to simply sit and exist.

All too soon the wind blows, dragging its boney talons along your exposed skin and reminding you of the time. You shiver and hurriedly jump to your feet, eyes glancing to the setting sun. “I should get going now.” You turn towards Bloodhound and find that they too are standing, looking up at the sky. They lower their head to you and you hand back their glass. “I must go before it gets too dark. I hope you enjoy your time here now that everything has been set right.” You take a small step backwards, “Goodbye.”

“The Allfather goes with you.” Bloodhound responds, their body bending as they bowed stiffly. You offer them a smile once more before turning and walking your way back to your truck. Suddenly you stop and spin on your heels.

“You are more than welcome to come round to the bar again! Any time! I might even throw in another free breakfast!” Though you could not see it, Bloodhound chuckled at your offer. They did not answer, however, because before they could you had already jumped into your truck and sped off down the dirt road and into town, leaving behind nothing but dust.

#hell yeah baby #apex legends x reader #apex legends fic #apex legends bloodhound #bloodhound #bloodhound x reader #bloth houndr #lol yeah #i had way too much fun writing this #but man am i stupid #please forgive any mistakes #i am literally just vibing bro #also please interact!#uwu

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

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Thanks to @jrob64 for the lovely artwork!!!!!! It makes my heart happy :)

Killian, Persuaded

Chapter Fourteen — Turducken

Summary: In which our hero is not prepared

Chapter Fourteen on AO3

“I just can’t believe

The loveliness of loving you”

-Sugar, Sugar, The Archies

“It’s a tad ambitious, don’t you think?”

Elsa stared like she was torn between smacking him or trying to convince him. Killian recognized the signs of a woman on the edge, there was a time in his life when he delighted in sending a lady there, so he stepped back before she decided on a course of action. Liam was working away on one of the numerous projects on their schedule and the girls were upstairs enjoying their school break by playing Mad Scientist, a lovely game of their own invention normally requiring him to drop whatever he was doing at the time to play the part of a science experiment gone horribly awry.

It was a role he was born to play.

“It’s just Thanksgiving dinner with a few friends,” she replied, thumbing through the pages of a Martha Stewart cookbook and marking things for later. “We always have Thanksgiving at our house.”

“Do you always invite half the town?”

“I hardly think eleven adults and six children constitutes half the town, Killian. Why are you fighting me on this? Do you have romantic plans for the evening? Somewhere else you have to be?”

Sighing, he pulled the book across the island and looked at the pages she dog eared. Elaborate recipes featuring dozens of ingredients he’d never heard of cascaded one after another. He knew better than to comment but while Elsa had many diverse talents, they were not centered around the stove. Liam tended to cook more than she did. There was no doubt she could do anything she put her mind to but he had a feeling this particular endeavor was going to end in disaster. “No, you know Emma is being stubborn.”

Stubborn didn’t begin to describe the torture she was putting him though. She was always around, always being Emma. It was driving him crazy. She would smile and flirt and draw him to the brink of madness and then give him a brotherly hug and be on her way. He hadn’t realized taking it slow meant he’d be in a constant state of arousal while she lived her life unaffected and apparently in no hurry to move to the next step.

They hadn’t even been on a real date unless you considered countless nights on the couch watching holiday movies with one to five kids between them a date. Which he didn’t, no matter how much he adored the children in question.

“I’m glad she’s making you work for it. It’s character building and heaven knows if your head got any bigger, it wouldn’t fit through the door.”

“Yes, nothing like the complete collapse of one’s life to inflate one’s ego,” he murmured, studying a picture of some kind of Frankenstein monster in the form of animal carcasses stuffed into other animal carcasses. The fact she marked the page showed she wasn’t in her right mind.

“I refuse to feel sorry for you, no matter how downcast you pretend to be,” she laughed. “Admit it. You’re enjoying it.”

“Enjoying what?”

“Your life.”

He truly was and the feeling was as strange as it was welcome. He was surrounded by people he loved, pursuing a woman who could make his heart pound just by entering the room, he’d fallen into a job he was surprisingly good at and in less than a week he would be completely free of the shackles of his old life. He grinned at her and joked, “Maybe a little but I’m sure something will come along to knock me on my ass soon enough. Will that make you happy?”

Taking a bite of her oatmeal, she studied him thoughtfully. “Depends on what it is I guess.”

“You’re quite diabolical. Does Liam know the kind of woman he married?”

“Who do you think taught me?”

Chuckling, he continued thumbing through the cookbook. He wondered if this sudden interest in being the next Julia Child was rooted in her pregnancy or if something else was weighing on her. Trying his luck one more time, for Liam’s sake more than his own, he offered, “Perhaps we could try something unconventional this year. Italian or maybe tacos…the kids like those.”

“Tacos? For Thanksgiving? No, my entire family is coming and, come to think of it, the only member of Liam’s family we claim is here for the first time too. Although most of the luster with that one has already worn off,” she said with a wink. “I’m going to make a traditional dinner.”

“This isn’t a dinner, Elsa. It’s a five course feast complete with suckling pig and homemade eggnog. I beg you, let us eat tacos and sit around in sweatpants. You’re impressive enough without standing on ceremony.”

“My mind’s made up. You and Emma are responsible for dessert but make sure to tell her popcorn with melted milk duds doesn’t count.”

—

He leaned against Emma’s countertop and watched her break apart refrigerated dough and place it haphazardly on a cookie sheet. She was already dressed for dinner, her black leather dress making his body hum with desire as she remained oblivious to his admiring stare.

“If you keep looking at me like I’m dessert, I’m going to send you to the living room to play video games with Aster and Henry.”

Maybe not so oblivious after all.

“When are you going to let me take you out to dinner?”

Though she was still focused on the cookie dough, he saw her smirk. “When you’ve earned it.”

Moving closer until she had no choice but to look up from her task, he held her gaze as he ran a hand down the bare skin of her arm. “How does one earn a dinner date? Please tell me it’s by helping you work up an appetite…”

“You’re going to Seattle tomorrow. If you come back, we can talk about dinner.”

“If?” His caress turned into a soft embrace, pulling her away from the counter until she was cuddled against him. She didn’t resist, at least they had progressed that far, instead wrapping her arms around him and sighing. “Darling, you can’t get rid of me that easily. I wouldn’t even go tomorrow if I could keep from it.”

He dreaded getting on the plane. Hated the idea of flying away from everyone he held dear for a whole week and returning to a place he’d rather keep in the past. However, he wouldn’t be able to move on as long as he had one foot in his old world. He needed to figure out what to do with his penthouse and the handful of possessions not on the auction block. He needed closure. What better way to find it than to physically let go of everything tying him to that life. Inspiration struck and he asked hopefully, “Why don’t you come with me?”

Pulling away, she looked at him like he had grown another head. “To Seattle? I think it’s better if I don’t.”

“Why? You have a deputy now. Smee will make sure the town doesn’t burn to the ground while you’re gone. We can bring Henry and I can show you the hedonistic life I abandoned in search of quiet reflection and self-improvement.”

“You mean the life Liam yanked you from and you spent weeks begrudging the loss of? Sounds like a lot of fun,” she said with a grimace. Grabbing the pan, she placed it in the oven and turned back to him. “Beside the fact Henry has school on Monday, I’m not sure it will do either of us any good for me to see you return to your natural habitat.”

She was worried he would revert. It was clear from the way she kept herself from being pulled deeper into this thing between them. This was a test. For both of them. She truly believed there was a chance he would be sucked into the glitz and glamour of his old ways and leave her. Again.

Grimly he accepted she would not be persuaded into joining him. “It was a cage, love. A comfortable one to be sure but I was nothing more than the main attraction at a zoo full of wild animals. This is where I want to be.”

Emma made a noncommittal sound but refused to look at him. He reached for her again, half afraid she would struggle against it. He lifted her chin with a gentle finger and emphatically repeated, “I’m not going anywhere.”

With a vulnerable smile, she said with a hint of a challenge in her voice, “I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

He let her go when she stepped back. The space allowed the heaviness of their conversation to fall away and she peeked into the living room to make sure the kids were behaving themselves. Satisfied everything was as it should be, she reminded him, “Not a word about these not being from scratch. Elsa can never know. If she presses you, tell her I got the recipe from an old friend.”

“I thought she was your oldest friend.”

“Actually, I think you might be,” she revealed, her tone a mixture of surprise and amusement like this odd fact just occurred to her. “Maybe we can tell her it’s a Jones family recipe passed down generation to generation.”

“It will only be believable if you say the main ingredient is arsenic and the directions call for two dozen servants to make it,” he joked. “If you want me to lie for you, there will be a price.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she pushed him out of the way and started tidying up the kitchen. He was hypnotized by how her small, efficient movements made the hemline of her skirt inch up and down.

“Fine. I’ll keep your dirty little secret but only if you promise you’ll call me every day while I’m gone.”

“That would require me having your phone number and you actually turning on your cell. It’s quite a commitment. Do you think you’re ready for it? People might think we’re going steady.”

“As long as I can convince you we are, the rest of the world can go hang themselves.”

“Big talk from a man who hasn’t faced the real world in months,” she teased. Her expression turned serious suddenly. It was like her words had penetrated the playful atmosphere and robbed them of the ability to pretend things were normal. With a concerned look, she cradled his cheek in her hand. “You’re stronger than you know. Don’t forget it when you face the firing squad.”

“As if I could when dinner with you is on the line,” he murmured as he turned his face to kiss her palm. “I can compromise. If you don’t want to call, you can at least text. Maybe send a few pictures, preferably naughty ones.”

“Keep it up, Killian, and I’ll take back my walkie talkie.”

Less than half an hour later with the Jones family cookies, as they would henceforth be known, cooled and artlessly arranged on a platter emblazoned with a cartoon turkey saying ‘Gobble til you Wobble’, he dragged Aster and Henry away from storming the castle and bundled them up for the short trek back to Liam’s house.

Snow started to fall in earnest and the temperature was dropping rapidly, making even the quick trip a bruising affair. Picking up Aster, more for warmth than out of any need on her part, he raced Henry to the back porch. The lad put in a valiant effort but even with the additional weigh of his niece, he was no match for Killian’s longer stride. He forced open the back door and entered laughing over Henry’s protests he cheated and Aster’s taunting that the boy was a sore loser.

Elsa’s upset face greeted them.“Well, my family’s flights were all cancelled. Every single one. They tried to get on standby for the next one but they probably won’t make it in until the weekend.”

Dropping Aster softly to the floor, he shrugged out of his coat and reached over to brush some snow from Henry’s hair. “I’m sorry, love. But there will probably be plenty of leftovers to last that long.”

“You’re right because Robin called to say Roland and Regina are both running fevers. He suspects the flu so they can’t make it either.”

Her voice cracked on the last word and he had a sneaking suspicion she was on the verge of tears. Doing his best to sound unconcerned, he asked, “Where’s Liam?”

“Trying to wrangle the twins into their clothes,” she replied wearily. “Where’s Emma?”

“It’s cold outside,” he said by way of explanation. “Every man for himself.”

“I really don’t know what she sees in you,” Elsa groused, turning her back on him to stir one of the half dozen pots currently simmering on the stovetop. She seemed frazzled, tendrils of her hair curling from the heat and her apron smudged with all manner of food.

“Neither do I so let’s not tempt fate by asking her,” he teased as the woman in question made her way into the kitchen. Her red coat and beanie were covered with snow and if she wasn’t already attractive enough, the snowflakes caught in her long lashes made it look like she had fallen straight from heaven pulling the stars with her.

“Hey Elsa,” she greeted her friend, putting the cookies down and walking over to the stove to inhale the fragrant steam. “Can I help with anything?”

“No, I think I have it under control. Have you heard from William?”

Picking up on the unfamiliar and decidedly male name, Killian interrupted, “Who’s William?”

The two women looked at him with puzzled expressions and exchanged an amused glance. It was Emma who answered. “Smee. Please tell me you’re joking and you didn’t employ a man for almost a decade without knowing his first name.”

“Huh. Sorry, he was always Mr. Smee to me,” he admitted without a hint of shame. Liam walked in looking like he came straight from the battlefield, shoulders tense and eyes tired. He was sure the twins came out the victors of their confrontation and wondered if they would streak through any moment half-dressed and ready for round two. “Liam, did you know Smee’s first name was William?”

“No. I’m not sure it suits him. He strikes me as more of an Edward. Maybe Richard…” Reaching over, he grabbed a roll out of the basket where they were cooling earning him a death glare from Elsa. “What? We’re going to have plenty now that it’s only the ten of us.”

“Nine of us I’m afraid,” Emma informed them, her eyes drifting to Elsa as the woman looked like she had the wind knocked out of her sails. “William is responding to a traffic accident on the other side of town. He won’t be able to make it. The roads are already getting bad so I may need to leave earlier than planned if we get any other calls.”

“Fine. Great. It’s not like I went to any effort to make a nice, home-cooked meal for all my family and friends,” Elsa muttered, turning away and missing the worried glances the rest of the adults exchanged. “I guess since this is it, we should go ahead and set the table. No point in waiting.”

Eager to get out of the line of fire, for Elsa was clearly spoiling for a fight, he grabbed plates and nearly ran for the little used dining room off the kitchen. He had to admit his sister-in-law did a fine job decorating with cornucopias and a table runner bursting with autumnal colors gilded in gold. It looked like a display fit for a magazine spread.

Liam added the extra leaves to the table earlier in the week and since they were of a diminished number, the children could now join them in the dining room rather than being regulated to the kid’s table in the kitchen. He debated hiding until dinner was served but dismissed the idea. His flight was early in the morning, if the weather permitted, and he didn’t want to miss a single moment of his first Thanksgiving with his family. Even if he half expected Elsa to call for someone’s head before the night was through.

Emma joined him moments later with wide eyes and a shake of her head. “No matter what, everything is delicious and Elsa is the best chef you’ve ever encountered, got it?”

“Darling, no need to tell me twice. What has gotten into her? I fear for our safety. Did you bring your gun?”

Laughing, she moved closer and whispered, “She hasn’t told Liam yet. I think it has her on edge.”

“Why hasn’t she told him? He already knows. He’s thrilled at the prospect and pleased at his own prowess in the bedroom.” He claimed a seat toward the far end of the table and pulled her into the chair next to him. “We need to eat fast and get out clean, Swan. There’s a storm brewing and it won’t be snow falling from the ceiling when it breaks.”

“I already have my escape route and I’ve never been more thankful for slick roads,” she pointed out. Echoing his words from earlier, she winked and said, “It’s every man for himself. Best of luck to you. Save the children if you can.”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and went to join Henry in the living room.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the home minutes later. Everyone was already walking on eggshells to avoid drawing the wrath of Elsa, so there was no laughter or hullabaloo to drown out the sound. The entire household ran to the kitchen with dread that was palpable.

Killian reached her first and saw Elsa sitting on the kitchen floor, staring into the oven as if it had mortally offended her. The pieces of a broken plate surrounded her. He approached with caution, worried she may be hurt. “Love, is everything okay? Are you injured?”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t turn on the oven.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The oven. I never turned it on. The turducken is raw.” She burst into tears at the exact moment the girls entered the kitchen, Henry, Liam and Emma following on their heels. Within seconds, his nieces were also crying, over what he wasn’t entirely sure. He couldn’t blame them though. He felt like a good wail would suit him at the moment too.

Like a port in the storm, Liam went to Elsa and pulled her into his arms. Whispering endearments as he held her, whatever control she had collapsed and she was gripping him tightly as heartbreaking sobs wracked her body. At a loss, Killian glanced at Emma hoping she would know what to do. Unfortunately, she and Henry were huddled by the wall like the emotional turmoil had forced them backward.

“Mommy!” Lily cried, running toward her mother. Liam folded her into the hug, moving their group away from the broken glass without disrupting his wife or the growing horde of upset girls clinging to him.

“Killian,” Liam’s calm voice rang out. “You and Emma take the kids to her house. Don’t come back until you get the all clear.”

“Right, away we go,” he replied, glad to have a concrete way to help as he moved to break the stranglehold the twins had on their parents. At Emma’s direction, Henry grabbed coats and hats while she steered the older girls toward the door. With one last look over his shoulder at his brother who remained levelheaded in the face of the unknown, he moved away from one storm and into another.

—

The thin light of morning illuminated a scene Killian knew he would remember for the rest of his life. The signal it was safe to return never came, so the small band of emotional refugees had camped out in Emma’s living room, making frozen pizzas and macaroni and cheese for their unplanned Thanksgiving dinner. As the night wore on, Emma divvied out t-shirts and toothbrushes before settling the girls into a large pallet of blankets in the middle of the living room. Henry claimed the oversized chair in the corner, leaving the sofa for the two adults to share. Sometime during the night, Emma’s head had drifted to his chest, his arm wrapped around her.

It wasn’t the best night’s sleep he ever had but he wouldn’t trade it for all the high-priced mattresses in all the expensive hotel rooms and penthouses in all the world.

He sensed it was time to go but he couldn’t make himself leave. The snow stopped shortly after they arrived at Emma’s place. The temperature warmed enough so the roads cleared without the aid of snowplows and salt, but snow blanketed the ground so the world seemed quiet and still. The soft sound of breathing nearly lulled him back to sleep.

He smoothly extracted himself from beneath Emma, positioning her against the arm of the couch with exaggerated care. Scrubbed of make-up and in oversized flannel pajamas, it was like sleep had turned back the clock and she was once again the teenager he fell in love with. He gently pushed her hair from her forehead and placed a kiss there before backing away. If he didn’t leave now, he probably never would and he had business to take care of so he could get back to his family.

Finding a scrap of paper Henry left on the coffee table, he scribbled out a note to Emma. Assuring her he would return, that he would think of her every day while they were apart, he wrote his number at the bottom and put it under her badge where she would be sure to find it.

With one final glance, he left to pack his bags and face the music.

@jrob64 @kmomof4 @teamhook @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @stahlop @klynn-stormz @motherkatereloyshipper

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Before (Heal Me, Kill Me Prequel)

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x OC named Maggie (thanks @kimtaehyunq)

Genre— SMUT, Angst, Vampire!Tae au, Victorian era au

Warnings— Explicit unprotected sex (but like pretty vanilla and loving), some violence and death

Word Count— 4.8k

Summary— Taehyung was a vampire with nothing but time and boredom on his hands. He’s going on his monthly feeding adventures when he comes across a rather peculiar prey.

A/N— This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away and made a full prequel oops. The Heal Me, Kill Me series will be posting starting in October! The pairing will be Kim Taehyung x reader so it’ll be the usual y/n stuff. Thanks for reading, feedback is always welcome~

It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, well it wasn’t stormy, but at least it was nighttime. The year was 1863. Taehyung made his way down to the sketchy part of town, eager for a meal. Opium was all the rage nowadays, but Taehyung despised it. It tainted people, making them even more unbearable than he thought was possible. He drew the line past alcoholics, though he still wasn’t fond of them. However, people were even easier to persuade with absinthe coursing through their veins.

“Hey handsome, looking for some fun?” a woman approached him from the shadows, her knockers practically spilling out of her corset. She reeked of all sorts of carcinogenic substances.

“Away with ye, painted Jezebel,” Taehyung shooed her away, and she instantly stood up straight and walked in the opposite direction with a clouded look in her eyes.

It was hard to come by a decent meal these days. Unfortunately, sticking to the slums was his best option. No one cared if a poor commoner went missing. At least he only had to partake in such grizzly actions about once a month. Any longer than that and he’d be in big trouble (or more accurately, random people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time would be in big trouble).

Something caught Taehyung’s attention. He lifted his chin and took a deep inhale of a sweet aroma that wafted through the air. It was the scent of something he’d never dream of finding in the slums; an untainted individual. Untainted in the sense of a perfectly pure body, not once given into sinful indulgences.

Taehyung quickly followed the smell, growing more excited with each step. Through the narrowly winding alleyways and past some rather alarming scenes, Taehyung did not stop. He could barely keep himself from salivating once he arrived at the source.

There she was. A beacon of light in the dreary depths of a neglected corner of the world. Taehyung curiously observed her as she fluttered from body to body, carefully checking pulses and offering aid. He couldn’t help but scoff at her earnesty. There was no use in saving these people. They were beyond salvation. Yet, he silently watched her work as she hauled around her makeshift med kit. That was a mistake. The more he watched her, the more personal interest he took.

After devising a plan, Taehyung was ready to make his move. He started at the opposite end of the street, intending to meet up with her somewhere in the middle. He crouched beside each body with an extended hand; random passerbys would see a well dressed man committing charity work out of the goodness of his heart. That was his intention, though he was merely hypnotizing each person into a deep slumber if they weren’t already passed out.

“Are you looking for someone, sir?” the young woman piped up behind him.

“Not in particular,” Taehyung coolly answered as he stood up to face her.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but may I ask what someone like you is doing in a place like this if you’re not looking for someone in particular?” she crossed her arms with distrust.

“Is it a crime to want to help out the less fortunate? What we’re doing doesn’t seem to be much different. May I ask what a young girl like you is doing out here all alone in the middle of the night? It can be very dangerous,” his deep voice resonated in the air.

“Oh. You’re helping them too? I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean any harm. People like you just don’t really come down here unless it’s for certain unspeakable acts,” she bowed her head apologetically.

“Unspeakable? You help the people who partake in such acts,” Taehyung observed keenly, “Why bring them aid?”

“If I don’t, no one else will,” the girl answered solemnly.

“That simple hm? You seek nothing in return? Or is your vice that of self appointed importance?” Taehyung slowly approached the girl.

“I help them because they need it. Because they’d die without someone like me,” the girl held her ground.

“How admirable. I’m impressed, young miss. Please don’t think I was insulting you, I’m genuinely fascinated by you. Would you care to accompany me for dinner?” he extended his arm to her ever so slightly.

“It’s a bit late for dinner isn’t it?” she responded timidly.

“I suppose calling it a midnight snack would be more fitting. Your answer?” Taehyung asked calmly, concealing his impatience.

“Forgive my apprehension. I’m sure you’re a fine gentleman, it’s just that this isn’t a place one would normally find fine gentlemen. I’ll gladly join you for breakfast in the morning,” she countered.

Taehyung’s eye twitched with frustration, but luckily it was too dark for the girl to see it. He needed to feed. That night.

“I’m not keen on breakfast meals. How about tomorrow evening, during normal dinner time hours? Unless you can’t skip a day of helping the helpless,” he suggested.

“That would be fine,” the girl finally agreed, “Oh, and I never caught your name, sir.”

“Taehyung. Pleasure to meet you,” he bowed elegantly.

“I’m Maggie, the pleasure is all mine,” she curtsied awkwardly.

After hashing out the details. Taehyung reluctantly left her alone. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her jugular, but something held him back. His curiosity got the better of him, but after living for all these years it was hard for him to find something interesting. He figured it couldn’t hurt.

Taehyung cursed himself as he tore into an unsuspecting victim who had passed out drunk on the street. He retched at the foul taste, but this is what he has had to resort to. He couldn’t afford to be run out of another country yet again. His more refined taste would have to be put on hold for the time being (oh how he missed the good old days when people feared him enough to bring pristine victims monthly).

Rain lightly tapped against the window that Taehyung gazed out of as he scanned the crowd for Maggie. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, though a single drop of her blood would tell him everything he needed to know. Of course, that wasn’t as entertaining as an old fashioned conversation.

Maggie finally arrived, and the restaurant host escorted her to the table. Taehyung could tell that she made an effort to look presentable. He reasoned that she was wearing her finest dress, though it had a plain and rather boring look to it. Plus, she wasn’t even wearing a fancy hat, much less a bonnet.

“Good evening, Mr. Taehyung,” she curtsied before she sat down.

“Good evening, Miss Maggie. Have you been well?” Taehyung asked politely.

“As well as I can be, I suppose. Yourself?” Maggie extended the same courtesy.

“I’m splendid, now that you’re here. Tell me about yourself,” he dove right in.

“I’m just an average girl. Nothing really special about me,” she shrugged while tugging at a strand of hair, “I never thought I’d be able to eat in a place like this in a million years. You must be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“I disagree. I think you’re the most interesting thing here, apart from me of course,” Taehyung let out a low chuckle, “I gather you come from a poor family? What do they think about your late night escapades?”

“They’re...gone. Sickness took them. Cholera,” Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I don’t wanna see anyone else die so I…”

“Ah. That’s your noble cause huh? Admirable,” Taehyung took a long sip from his wine glass.

“And what of you, Mr. Taehyung? You seem rather peculiar yourself. What’s your reason for visiting that ward so late at night?” Maggie deflected the subject away from her.

“You could say I’m a humanitarian of sorts. I visit at least once a month, it’s a necessity for me,” he smiled slyly, “What else do you want to know? I haven’t had a decent conversation in ages.”

“You struck me as rather peculiar. A handsome gentleman like yourself lurking around giving aid to the weak. And then you only gave me one name when we introduced ourselves. I assumed it was your first name, so I gave you my first name in return. Forgive me if I was mistaken,” Maggie took a sip of water.

“One name is all you need to know, dear. I’m happy we’re on a first name basis. However, I can address you otherwise if you deem it improper,” Taehyung offered.

The rest of the evening went on pleasantly. The meal was delicious, probably the best meal Maggie had ever had. She noticed that Taehyung’s meat was barely cooked, it was practically still raw. She decided not to mention it when she saw him happily gobble it down. Maggie also noticed that his red wine was thicker than what she was accustomed to seeing, but she figured it was a fancy alcohol that rich people drank. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by asking.

Taehyung’s leg bounced quickly under the table. Maggie’s aroma grew more intense the longer he was with her. Her scent was intoxicating, and it took everything in his power not to take her then and there. He was in a conundrum. He took a liking to this spunky girl. He was torn. He didn’t know when to devour her, if to devour her at all.

By the end of the night, he had decided. He’d keep her around for as long as he wanted, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He could easily end her life whenever he pleased anyway. The only thing he’d have to worry about was his self control.

Taehyung and Maggie began to meet regularly. Taehyung would share the finer things in life with her. He’d take her to botanical gardens and fancy museums. In return, Maggie taught him everything she knew about medicine. She detested the use of cocaine as a common remedy, and preferred to make her own medicine. Taehyung accompanied her on her nightly rounds, he enjoyed every second he spent with her.

It took about a year for Taehyung to officially court Maggie. She accepted, of course, and was now visiting Taehyung’s home for the first time. Home was an understatement. His mansion resided on a massive estate.

A grand feast awaited Maggie. Her favorite dishes and desserts lined the dinner table, with Taehyung sitting at the opposite end. As Maggie dug into the food, she struggled to hold her tongue. A question had been lingering on her mind for quite some time now.

“Is everything alright, Miss Maggie? Is the food inadequate?” Taehyung asked from across the room.

“The food is delicious, probably the best I’ve ever had. Your kitchen staff must be very talented,” Maggie shook her head.

“Ah, I have no staff here. I’m glad you enjoy the food, it was all made by me,” Taehyung said proudly.

“You take care of this entire property by yourself?” Maggie’s jaw dropped in shock.

“It’s tough sometimes, and lonely. I suppose I could hire one person to help out,” Taehyung lifted his eyebrows at Maggie.

“M-me? I’m not really a good cook but--”

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. As you can see, I have more rooms than I know what to do with. You’re welcome to stay here with me for as long as you like,” Taehyung offered.

“Can you answer one question for me first, Mr. Taehyung?” Maggie asked tentatively.

“Ask me anything,” Taehyung smiled.

“Are...are you ill?” Maggie looked at him with concern, “Please don’t take any offense. I noticed that we only meet in the evenings or when it’s a cloudy day. And I know that you have a predilection for barely cooked meats, and I’m sure eating raw things isn’t good for you. Also when we first met I thought rich people just had fancy alcohol but I can never see anyone drinking the same concoction as you whenever we eat at restaurants,” she rambled.

“My my, aren’t you observant,” Taehyung’s lips twisted into an amused smile, “Are you afraid of monsters?”

“Monsters aren’t real,” Maggied quickly answered, annoyed that he deflected her questions.

“Are you sure about that? Think carefully. I only go out at night or under cloud cover. I prefer my meat raw. I drink a rather strange red liquid that you should be very familiar with since you tend to the drunkards who are bound to get into fights down in the slums,” Taehyung toyed with her.

“What? Do you expect me to believe that you’re some sort of vile creature that drinks blood?” Maggie laughed nervously.

In an instant, Taehyung’s chair was vacant as he menacingly stood over Maggie, “That is precisely the truth. Have you heard of vampyres?” he licked his lips.

Maggie was too frightened to move. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her? Her eyes narrowed in on the fangs Taehyung bared as he smiled eerily down at her.

“I’ve heard of them. The people in the slums are terrified of being sucked dry, claiming that people wandering alone at night have a death wish. I thought they were just delusional,” panic gripped Maggie, “Were you going to eat me the first night we met?”

“I desperately wanted to. You know the irresistible and mouth watering smell of a bakery in the morning? That’s what you smell like to me, only ten times more alluring and potent,” Taehyung nodded.

“Then why haven’t you yet?” Maggie questioned.

“Because, my dear Miss Maggie, I am a fool. I have taken a liking to you. As you can imagine, being an immortal being gets lonely. You’ve provided me with more joy and entertainment than I’ve had in a while. At this point, I’d rather have you stay alive,” he sighed.

“So if I stayed here with you, you’d promise you’d never harm me?” Maggie attempted to calm her breathing.

“Of course, I would not touch a hair on your head. Unless you want me to,” he winked.

“You would make me into a vampyre?” Maggie’s eyes widened.

“I was hinting at a more carnal interaction, but I could do that as well. Do you want an immortal life?” Taehyung’s eyes wandered to her exposed neck.

“No. Not if it costs others their lives. I must be crazy Mr. Taehyung. You’ve admitted that you’re a monster and yet I still feel safe with you. I would love to move in and keep you company, if you’ll have me,” Maggie smiled fondly.

“You’re very strange, Miss Maggie. That’s not at all the reaction I thought you’d have, but I’m happy for it. Very well, you may stay here. I can help you bring your belongings tomorrow night,” Taehyung grinned.

“I’m curious; were you born a vampyre?” Maggie piped up. Taehyung let out a hearty laugh.

“No, I was a human once like you. I got into a scuffle with a nasty bloke in the 16th century. Rather than killing me, he gave me a far worse end. He turned me. I haven’t seen him to this day, but I’m sure the slimy bastard is still undead somewhere in the world,” Taehyung’s cheery face fell into a scowl.

“16th century? You’re an old man!” Maggie exclaimed teasingly.

“But I have the physical body of a young man, that must count for something, Taehyung chuckled, “Come, I can escort you to your room.”

“Am I staying the night?” Maggie tilted her head.

“That was my assumption. You’re free to leave at any time,” Taehyung shrugged.

“It’s just that...I’ve never left my family home. I’ve been pretty lonely since everyone died. I can’t imagine how you must feel…” she trailed off.

“You’ve helped me with that tremendously. I guess we’ve cured each other’s loneliness, yes?” Taehyung cupped his hands over Maggie’s.

It was the first time he had ever touched her. His fingers were ice cold, resembling the kind of cold only a corpse could possess. Instinctively, she took his hands in hers and attempted to blow warm air onto them. Taehyung knew it would never work, but he appreciated the gesture. He pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Forgive me if this is inappropriate. You make me feel at ease,” Taehyung whispered. To his surprise, Maggie hugged him back tightly. She didn’t say anything, but her actions were clear enough.

Taehyung sat in an armchair in his room reading a novel a couple hours after he bid Maggie goodnight. He was pleased with the outcome of the night’s events. He was honestly dreading the thought of having to kill Maggie if she were to run away screaming. He was glad things didn’t come to that.

There was a knock on the door. With a wave of his hand the door swung open, revealing a sleepy Maggie on the other side.

“I heard a strange noise and couldn’t fall back to sleep,” Maggie yawned.

“Don’t lie,” Taehyung chided without looking up from his book.

“I’ve never slept away from home before and being alone in that big room scares me,” Maggie admitted, her eyes cast down to the floor.

“That’s what I thought. You’re welcome to use my bed. I’ll stay here while you sleep,” Taehyung finally looked up and kindly gestured to the large bed.

“Where’s your coffin?” Maggie asked as she wiggled into the sheets.

“That’s a stereotype. Do I look like the type of guy who sleeps in a stuffy wooden coffin? Nonsense. However, there is soil from my hometown beneath the bed,” Taehyung tsked.

“Really?” Maggie’s eyes grew wide.

“Nope. Go to bed, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Care to join me?” Maggie asked as she stretched.

“I’m not going to sleep--”

“Then neither am I! I’m practically wide awake now,” Maggie interrupted him.

Taehyung put his book down and walked to the bed, opting to sit on the end, a respectable distance away from Maggie. They talked the night away. Now that Maggie had some time to process everything, she had a plethora of questions ranging from vampyres to fashion throughout the years.

“So have you ever been married? Or in love?” Maggie probed.

“Never been married. Have been in love a few times. As you can imagine they all ended in heartache. Truthfully, I’ve been questioning why I let myself get so attached to you,” Taehyung confessed.

“I’m glad you did. Because I love you, Mr. Taehyung. I fell in love with your grace and intellect, and of course you’re extremely handsome. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me, I just wanted to be candid with you before living together,” Maggie tugged at her hair.

“Miss Maggie, I foolishly fell in love with you. You’d be one with the dirt by now if I hadn’t been so enthralled by you. Hm, that didn’t come out very romantic,” Taehyung shook his head before continuing, “The feeling is mutual. I know I can’t give you a normal marriage, but I promise to love you until the end.”

Maggie crawled towards Taehyung and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Taehyung deepened the kiss as he pushed her flat onto the bed. Hands wandered. Giggles filled the air. Clothing fell to the ground. Soon, both beings were stark naked as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Are you sure you want to go any further?” Taehyung asked.

“I want all of you inside me,” Maggie replied as she brought him in for another kiss.

Taehyung guided his dick to her entrance, patiently teasing it as he coated himself in her juices. Once he was drenched, he slowly slid into her, giving her time to adjust to his size. She let out soft moans as he went deeper.

They laced their fingers together once he began to thrust. He started slowly, making sure she was enjoying herself. He wanted to enjoy all of her delicately, taking careful care not to break her. His prior flings with the whores in the brothels was different. He didn’t care about them, he used them solely for his own pleasure. But this time, he wanted to please Maggie. He was happy to see her eyes shut with pleasure as he picked up the pace.

Taehyung placed his thumb on a certain little sensitive nub, making Maggie jump. Her eyes were blown out with lust as she arched her back. Taehyung worked her body perfectly, timing his thrusts with the clitoral stimulation. It didn’t take long for Maggie’s entire body to shake.

“Tae-Taehyung I--”

“Go ahead. Just let it all out, Maggie,” Taehyung demanded. He accidentally let his power of persuasion slip into that statement. Maggie came on the spot, cumming all over his cock as she moaned. It wasn’t long after until Taehyung released his seed inside of her.

Maggie’s chest heaved as she lay motionless on the bed. That was the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Taehyung cleaned her up before tucking her back into the bed. Once he cleaned himself up, he joined her side.

“Don’t worry about getting pregnant. I’m technically dead anyway,” he kissed her forehead before they both dozed off.

Taehyung woke up the following evening to an empty bed. He searched the house, unable to find Maggie. He began to worry. Did she leave him to get help? Did she abandon him?

“Good morning! Sleep well?” Maggie called out to him as she walked through the front doors.

“Why were you outside?” Taehyung questioned quickly.

“Lemme show you,” Maggie took Taehyung’s hand and led him outside. She proudly showed off a patch of crudely repotted plants. She explained to him that she went into town to get a few. Since she’d save a couple lives here and there, some people felt indebted to her. She called on her favors and managed to wrangle up a couple flowers and herbs.

“I love the botanical garden you always take me to. I figured we can try and make our own here since you have so much space,” Maggie smiled.

“Do you garden often?” Taehyung asked while looking at the half wilted plants.

“Never have, but it can’t be that hard right? Just give them water and love. Just watch, this place will rival that fancy botanical garden,” a flicker of determination lit up in her eyes.

Several happy years later, Maggie had kept her word. It had been ten wonderful years filled with merriment. Taehyung was not the man he was before. Maggie had softened his heart, and he was thankful for it. He accompanied her when she tended to the people in the slums, learning the art of medicine by her side. She even helped curb his bloodlust. Taehyung only fed on the people who were beyond help, or those who actively sought death. Maggie still didn’t like it, but of course that was out of her control.

Taehyung’s arms were wrapped around Maggie as they admired their personal garden. It was a struggle at first, but they discovered that Taehyung had a godlike green thumb, and basically resurrected the plants back from the dead. With his guidance, Maggie was able to see her vision come true.

One night, Taehyung had to leave the mansion for a few hours to meet with his business colleagues (he was a rather savvy businessman, being around for a couple hundred years does that to a person). Taehyung itched to return to Maggie’s side and barely paid attention to the meeting. She always claimed that she would be fine, it was only a couple hours after all. Even so, Taehyung worried about her.

Finally the meeting was adjourned, and he was free to rush home. He found the front door unlocked upon his arrival. He gave the handle a quizzical look, he was sure that he had locked it.

“Maggie? Where are you?” he called out.

“Taehyung! Run away--” Maggie’s muffled scream came from the dining room.

Two big men stood at either side of a tied up Maggie, who now had a black eye. One of the men held a knife to her throat, close enough to draw out an inkling of blood.

“‘ello, Mr. Taehyung. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” a third stout man with a thick cockney accent emerged from a corner of the room, “I’ll cut to the chase. You let us kill you, and the little missy gets to live. If you resist, she dies. Simple as that.”

“Who are you people? You’re making a huge mistake. I have connections all over the country that--”

“Spare us the horseshit. We know what you are, filthy vampyre,” the word rolled off the stout man’s tongue like a slur, “The VEC sent us. You know ‘em? Stands for ‘Vampyre Extermination Company’ it does. We’re the best they ‘av, so you might as well surrender now.”

“Oh you already know? Lovely, that saves me time,” Taehyung growled as he seemingly phased from where he stood over to Maggie (but vampyres can’t teleport, they just have super speed and can fly sometimes).

In the blink of an eye, he broke the neck of the man who held the knife and threw the other guy across the room. He quickly released Maggie, and hugged her tightly before returning to attack the intruders. He lifted the stout man by his neck and held him against the wall.

“You sure you’re the best? The VEC must be a pretty unsuccessful organization,” Taehyung taunted.

“I told yous we should’ve just killed her in the first place and then ambushed him!” the stout man yelled to no one in particular.

Taehyung sank his fangs into the man’s neck, before ripping out a piece. He was going to enjoy torturing him. It was what he deserved for harming his beloved Maggie. A gunshot went off, stopping Taehyung in the middle of his raging frenzy.

Taehyung looked back in horror. Maggie held her bleeding stomach, sinking to the floor. The man he had thrown at the wall earlier was wielding a gun with a smirk on his face. Taehyung lost it. He ripped the assailant’s beating heart out from his chest.

He scrambled over to Maggie, cradling her in his arms.

“That hurt,” she joked weakly.

“Shh, don’t speak. I have to get you to a doctor. I can carry you--”

“It’s too late. This wound is worse than most of what we’ve seen in the slums. I’m just sorry I have to leave you so soon,” a tear rolled down her cheek.

“No! No please don’t leave me. There’s still time! I can turn you and we can be together forever,” Taehyung wept.

“You know I never wanted that. I’m sorry I’m being so selfish,” Maggie coughed up blood, “I love you, Mr. Taehyung. Don’t ever forget that,” she said with her final breath.

Taehyung held her until he saw the light leave her eyes. Anguish and sorrow filled his soul. He held her close and sobbed over her lifeless body.

“You tricked her into lovin’ ya, eh? There’s no end to the wickedness of you bastards,” the stout man struggled to say as he drowned in his own blood.

Taehyung gently laid Maggie’s body on the floor and walked over to the stout man. He stepped on the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe and adding pressure to his gaping wound. The man’s eyes screamed in pain as Taehyung looked down at him blankly.

“The VEC huh? I’ll remember that. I’ll see you in hell someday,” Taehyung spat as he trampled the man beneath him.

Taehyung didn’t leave Maggie’s side for a week straight. He couldn’t bear to do anything; he didn’t want to admit that she was gone. His heart broke every time he saw her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move her. It wasn’t until her corpse was a bloated smelly mess that finally motivated Taehyung to move.

“I’m sorry I let you become this way, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung whispered as he carried the body out to the botanical garden. He buried her there, among her cherished plants.

Taehyung fled his estate. The crime scene wasn’t discovered until a year later when his business associates came to check on him after he missed several meetings.

Taehyung swore that he would never love again. Never open up again. And never ever, under any circumstances, interact with the VEC. As much as he wanted to tear the establishment apart, he knew Maggie would be against it. He couldn’t bear disappointing her, even in death.

He settled down in a small unsuspecting town in a different country. He bought an abandoned property where he swore he’d live out the rest of his days quietly and peacefully.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #vampire bts #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bts fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #bayanihanboost #bts angst #taehyung angst

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re-diesirae · 3 years

Text

13. Chris

Irritation was beyond what Chris was currently feeling. He and the Alpha team had been preparing to leave for Leon's location point when the second wave of B.O.W.s attacked the city. The emergency call required their immediate response, and the Alpha team's departure was pushed back, much to Chris dismay. His sister was somewhere in the middle of nowhere at the other side of the planet, most likely in great danger, and the damn mutants were preventing him from going to her rescue.

The second wave of attacks was on a bigger scale than the first one, but with the civilians evacuated, B.S.A.A had received permission to use any force necessary to stop the attackers. The city got engulfed in a sea of fire and destruction that brought him a bunch of bad memories, and what he hated the most was that his little sister would return to find her home destroyed.

"Fuck those terrorists," Barry's annoyed growl sounded somewhere close to his side. They had barricaded themselves in a building as they shot a horde of j'avo that had decided to open fire on them, "Can't I just throw them a grenade and end with their pathetic zombie asses?"

"More like mutant, insect asses, Barry," Jill corrected him.

"Who cares? It is all the same to me..."

"What's our status?" Chris groaned as he replaced the cartridge of his machine gun.

"Surrounded. These bastards won't give us a break," Jill replied.

"Have they ever done such a thing?" Barry spitted in annoyance.

"Get down...I'm using one of these."

Following a previous suggestion from Barry, Chris pulled off one of the grenade's security locks and threw it against the j'avos. The thing exploded, sending the foes flying in pieces.

"Well, that surely worked," Jill approved.

"Yeah, why didn't we do that from the beginning?" Barry growled.

Chris was about to articulate a response to that when the sizzling of his radio interrupted him in mid-sentence.

"HQ to Redfield, do you copy?"

"Redfield here."

"Redfield, a large scale B.O.W has been spotted north from your position. We sent the Betta team to size it, but we lost contact with them 10 minutes ago. We need you and Alpha Team to check on the situation."

"Understood. We will take a look. Redfield out."

Chris pushed his radio back into his utility belt and turned to the rest of the team. Barry looked at him and shook his head grumpily.

"So we get to do babysitting, huh?" Barry sighed, "Soldiers these days are useless."

"You sound like a cranky old man, Barry..." Jill teased.

"I'm stating a fact. I don't remember our men being such a joke when we started at this..."

"Not everyone can be like you or Chris, Barry."

"I should suggest some new training plans when this shit is over..."

" I am sure there are a lot of things we can do when this shit is over. For now, let's deal with this crap first. I still got to get Claire back."

"Relax, big brother. Claire is a tough cookie who knows how to take care of herself. The girl has survived three zombie apocalypses" Barry chuckled, "She might even be tougher than you despite being a girl."

"Hey, don't underestimate a woman," Jill smirked, faking an offended glare.

"Of course, I do not. Don't forget that I live surrounded by four. I am always on the losing side..."

Jill laughed, imagining how life in the Burton house probably was.

"Either way, Barry is right, Claire won't die so easily, she's a Redfield, and Redfields are hard to kill."

"And don't forget Kennedy is with her," Jill added.

"Yeah, I bet Kennedy will take care of her," Barry nodded, "So let's focus on cleaning up the city, shall we?"

"Huh," Jill snorted, "When Claire comes back and finds this mess, she won't be too happy with you, Chris."

Chris snorted. He could picture Claire's pissed look as she complained about him rushing to rescue her and leaving her beloved city at the mercy of a B.O.W. attack. Jill was right, Claire would be angry at him, and he knew better than to provoke his little sister's fury.

"Well then, let's clean up this city. If there is anything I fear in this world, that is Claire when she's angry."

He wasn't lying, and he found it amusing. He could face a war, survive a zombie apocalypse, fight horrifying mutants, and yet, Chris couldn't stand his sister's glare, tears, or anything she did to persuade him. Barry had always laughed, saying that he had a sister complex, but more than a sister complex, it was a soft spot for her. She was his baby-sister no matter how old she grew, and she had certain privileges that no one else in the world would ever get from him.

"Heh, I wonder how scary can the little Redfield be if she can make the almighty Chris Redfield scared., Barry laughed, "Is she that scary? I've never seen her mad."

"That's because she's the sort of woman who wouldn't get mad unless you did something truly despicable," Chris commented.

"Ow...and what exactly did you do to anger her?" Jill asked curiously.

"I am her brother. I am an exception. She always gets mad at me at the minimal thing," he said as he shot a couple of mutated j'avos that had been chasing them.

"So, you get the privilege to feel her anger for small things," Barry asked, shooting another group of infected, "I don't envy you at all, pal, and wait till you get married. Your wife will team up with Claire and make you miserable. I know what I tell you. When my girls team up against me, it is worse than fighting off zombies."

Chris wondered about that. He couldn't imagine how bad that would be, and he heard Jill amused laugh.

"This might be the first time I'll see Chris scared at all."

The two soldiers broke into a fit of laughter, and Chris rolled his eyes.

"You two….stop it already." Chris growled grumpily, "Focus on the mission!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood," Barry said with a chuckle," "I think this is the place," Jill said, checking her intel.

Chris looked around. The place was deadly quiet, and there were no signs of the soldiers or zombies. He signaled Jill and Barry to be alert, and both of them nodded as they took a position with their weapons ready. Chris walked into the place, looking around with his gun raised. So far, there were no signs of the B.O.W., but he noticed something lying a couple of feet from him.

"Redfield here. I've found the members of Team Betta. The situation is bad. I'll look for survivors."

"Understood, be careful, team Alpha."

Chris walked cautiously around the bodies, feeling disgusted. It looked like a slaughterhouse; something had torn the soldiers into pieces, and their body parts laid scattered all over the place. It was a massacre and a horrendous one. Chris was sad to say it, but he doubted that there were any survivors from Team Betta.

"Chris, watch out!" Jill's voice shouted out of sudden.

Chris turned around in time to dodge a reddish blur that jumped over him. The man rolled over his side and got back up with his gun raised. He shot the B.O.W. that had just attacked him, and he could hear Barry and Jill shooting, too.

"Watch out! I think this thing might be the one who slaughtered the whole Betta team."

The creature roared and vanished into the surrounding darkness.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Barry growled.

"I have no idea," Chris said, reloading his gun, "but I don't think it is good news. Alpha Team to HQ, do you copy?"

"This is HQ. We hear you, Alpha Team."

"We have a situation," Chris said, aiming his gun. He could hear something moving around them, but he could not see it. "Unknown B.O.W. Most-likely, the one responsible for Betta Team's slaughter. Requesting back-up."

"Copied. Hang on in there, Alpha team."

There was a screech, and the red blur jumped out of the shadows, trying to tackle them. The trio rolled over and evaded it.

"What the fuck?" Barry said, shooting.

Chris had no idea what it was, either. The creature in front of them was something they had never encountered before. It looked like a giant meaty caterpillar with four long paws that ended in curling tentacles. There was a long slash on its face, filled by long yellowish fangs. The drool was dripping disgustingly from it. The three of them were shooting endless at it as the thing jumped from a wall to the other, roaring.

The trio rolled over the ground dodging the whipping tentacles. The creature, despite lacking eyes, was easily tracking their movements. Chris had showered the meaty body with a wave of bullets, but the thing didn't seem to be affected. The creature roared once more, showing the second row of yellow fangs and a bifid black tongue.

"What an ugly face. Makes me wanna punch it."

"You are welcome to blow it up, Barry," Jill said.

"Heh..thought you'd never say it."

Barry pulled out one of his grenades and threw it into the B.O.W. The first grenade barely missed the creature, but the explosion effect managed to hurt it and throw it on the ground. Taking advantage of its vulnerable position, Barry threw a second grenade directly at it as Jill and Chris kept shooting at it. The explosion raised an intense flame, and when the fumes had dissipated, the monster laid dead and half scorched.

"Well, there you have it. Nothing can do against a well-aimed grenade... "

"What the hell is this thing?" Jill said with a disgusted look.

"Guess it is Neo-Umbrella's new toy, " Chris said, kicking the corpse to take a look. "Team Alpha here. We took down the B.O.W that attacked Betta Team. It's been taken care of, but we found no survivors."

"Those are unfortunate news. Understood, team Alpha. Return to HQ, let clean-up to the back-up team. You've received new additional orders."

"What new orders, sir? If I may ask..." Jill said, looking at Chris with a frown.

"We've received intel from a member from the F.O.S, concerning the location of agent Kennedy. The place might be testing grounds for developing B.O.W.s"

"Just great, another Santa's factory of B.O.W." Barry mumbled bitterly. Chris knew the man was still bothered by what had happened to his daughter two years ago. Heck, he was mad, too. They had taken Claire once, and they had taken her again and right under his nose. Those fucking bastards would have to pay.

"You've been ordered to rescue and investigate the place. An aircraft is waiting for you at the power building. You are to depart asap."

"Understood. We are on our way."

Chris looked at his companions. His face twisted in an angry look. Those damned terrorists would pay if they touched a single hair of his sister, and he wasn't kidding.

"Leon...Claire. We are coming for you."

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

#Resident Evil #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #Cleon #claire redfield #claire x leon #leon s kennedy #leon x claire #chris redfield

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slashermom · 4 years

Note

I was wondering maby Bo and vincent with an adopted younger sister?? Who wandered into ambrose after being kicked out of her home by her parents, and they adopt her as younger sister?? Headcanons ?

Dysfunctional family adopting someone who brings the jaded knuckleheads together? Where do I sign up?

Christ, you really didn’t know where you were going.

What started out as a heated argument quickly snowballed into you having twenty minutes to get your belongings and leave.

It was probably time to move out, anyway.

Just sucks you can only fit so much into a duffle. You decide to give your folks some time to cool down and see if you can’t weasel your way back into the house to collect more of your things.

And of course, your family just had to live in butt-fuck nowhere Louisiana with no cell service or a town for quite a few miles.

Or so you thought.

You were dragging your sorry behind down an old dirt road. Really not looking forward to spending another night in the woods, when lights shined through the trees.

Wasting no time, you cut through and found yourself standing in front of a quaint town. You don’t remember any town being way out here, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Maybe there was a motel or bed-and-breakfast? Not that you had much money, but you’ll work to pay off the rest. You just needed somewhere to lay your bones that wasn’t the ground.

Your thought process was cut off by the sound of a voice calling out.

“Hey! What are you doing over there?”

You look over to see a man exiting a gas station and you quickly put your head down and proceed up the sidewalk.

“I’m talkin’ to you.” The sound of footsteps hastily approaching only made you pick up your pace. “You here alone?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The man stepped in front of you and finally got you to stop. Which you were quick to explain you were just looking for a place to stay the night.

The blue eyes that narrowed in on you were almost as intense as his build and stance. He scoffed and told you there were no motels in town.

You almost cried and you think he could tell because he was quick to offer to work something out for you.

He told you to follow him back to the station so he could lock up and then he would help you out.

The two of you introduced yourselves and ended up getting to talking. He was surprisingly easy to talk to.

You were cautious, though. If he said something that was a bit off you kept note of it and even called him out on it. The last thing you needed was to be taken advantage of.

As you neared the Sinclair home, Bo began to internally fight with himself.

Bo has never had any trouble taking care of people who stumbled into Ambrose. No matter their age, size, or gender. He always figured out a way to take them down.

But every time he gets you in a position where it would be painfully easy to knock you out cold and let Vincent do the rest, he hesitates.

You remind him of himself when he was younger.

A spitfire who thinks they know way more than they really do. Painfully determined to be independent.

He tells you to wait in the living room while he talks to his brother.

Bo finds Vincent in the old office and explains the situation. Vincent barely contains his amusement at his predicament. He silently leaves and is careful when he takes a peak in the living.

You were clearly exhausted and not even close to a threat. Vincent was confused why his twin was so worked about this. He had seen beetles more threatening than you.

“Let her stay.”

“Are you out of your mind? What if--”

“Just for the night.” He knew he was pushing it. “Out in the morning.”

The twins went back and forth for long enough for your eyes to begin to droop shut. But you pretended to be wide awake when Bo came back with an announcement.

Besides his better judgment, Bo begrudgingly takes Vincent’s advice and offers you the couch.

Just one night. Bo isn’t into collecting strays and already has enough mouths to feed.

Well, one night on the couch turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into too many to count, which finally ended up with him putting you in Lester’s old room.

He pretends to be very upset as he watches you get settled in the room but you’re quick to remind him the both of you could hop in the truck and not have to worry about it. Which he shuts down a little too rapidly and says ‘That’s too much work and a waste of gas.’

He calls you ‘kid’.

Don’t take it personally. You could be only four hours younger than him and he would still call you that.

Naturally, Bo becomes protective over you.

He knows you can hold your own but you’ve become the Certified Baby™ of the Sinclair clan so he can’t help it.

Bo ever catches a tourist looking you up and down or giving you a hard time, he’s on that like white on rice.

Bo: Y/N, you seen the shotgun anywhere? That gentleman you met earlier wants to see it up close.

But don’t think you’re spared from Bo’s anger.

He will rag on you just as much, if not more. He thinks by being rough or crass that it will teach you a lesson.

Blame Victor.

Thankfully, you’re able to find solace and a more light tone around Vincent.

Vincent is a man of few words, but you have come to understand him pretty well and vice versa.

He made himself scarce when you first arrived - even though he was the one who persuaded Bo to let you stay.

Vincent craved someone else to talk to and be around but was too terrified to initiate any actual conversations.

So you ambushed him every time he was on the main level of the house until he got used to your presence. You never went down in the basement, though. That was clearly his place.

He offered you clothes he would have put on the wax figures. He knows it’s not much and maybe some of it isn’t your style, but they might be better than Bo’s old band tees and Vincent’s dusty sweaters he doesn’t wear anymore.

You become more comfortable and open around Vincent before you really do Bo.

You could tell him anything and it won’t faze him. Which is a pleasant change of pace compared to cut off finger now and ask questions later Bo.

The both of you bond over making fun of Bo.

Bo: Am I a joke to you?

Vincent & you in unison: Yes, absolutely.

Bo teaches you the ins and outs of cars.

Vincent teaches you about candle making.

Bo doesn’t hesitate to refer to you as his sister in front of tourists. It’s muscle memory at this point.

You and Vinny share books and talk about them often. Most of the time you get to talking about other things but neither of you seem to mind.

You have switched out Bo’s Avenged Sevenfold tapes for Mariah Carey on more than one occasions. And each time it happens you swear you see three years fall off that man’s life span.

Also, I’m gonna say it...

They give really good brother hugs.

Bo will hold you tight with a hand resting on the back of your head to keep you close before he realizes he’s being a little too soft and tries to squeeze the life out of you and play it off as a joke.

Vincent’s hugs are secure and gentle. A hand skimming lovingly across your back and won’t let go unless you want him to.

#platonic love is just as important as romantic love #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax 2005

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

don’t go ~ mark;midsommar

word count: 1919

request?: yes!

“Mark from Midsommar imagine where reader is Pelle's sister and convinces Mark not to go on the trip with everyone else because she knows what will happen. So she stay there with him?”

description: in which she tries to stop her boyfriend from going to the midsommar festival because she knows the truth of the festival

pairing: mark x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

masterlist

“New table for you,” my co-worker told me as I tightened the strings on my apron. Usually, I wouldn’t be too happy about having a table right after my break, but when I looked over to see where it was I saw that it was my boyfriend, Mark, my brother, Pelle, and their friends. So I couldn't exactly be too mad about it.

I practically skipped over to their table and bent over Mark to give him a kiss. The three other boys chorused “Get a room!” at the same time.

“The service is so friendly here,” Mark joked, causing me to giggle.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked, positioning my pen to make it look as though I was actually taking their order.

“Just grabbing some food,” Josh responded. “Celebrating the trip we’re taking to Sweden in a few days!”

I raised an eyebrow at them before looking to Pelle. “Trip to Sweden?”

“Pelle invited us to some sort of festival held in your hometown,” Mark responded. “He said it’s super exclusive or something, only happens once every so often.”

I was so shocked that I almost dropped my pen and pad. I tried to keep a smile on my face as I turned to my brother and asked, “Can I talk to you...alone?”

I took the boys’ drink orders so I could make it look as though I was actually doing something while I talked to Pelle.

“How could you invite them to that awful festival?!” I hissed. “Why are you even going?! I thought you were getting out of that place!”

“Not all of us hate it there, (Y/N),” Pelle responded, keeping his voice low so my co-workers didn’t hear him.

“How could you not?!” I snapped. “Pelle, that place is evil! They kill people! How could you ask Mark to go there? He’s my boyfriend!”

“It’s tradition,” Pelle snapped under his breath. “And what was I supposed to do? Ask everyone else but him? He’d want to go anyways. Besides, he might not be a sacrifice.”

“But if he isn’t that means he’s stuck there! He won’t be able to come home!”

“So maybe you should come with us.”

I glared at Pelle. This was a usual argument. My brother and I were much different when it came to our opinions of our home village.

Pelle and I were born in a village called Hårga. We were raised there for most our lives. I was the first of the two of us to leave, moving to America when I was only 18 years old. At that age, I realized that where we lived wasn’t a village, it was a cult. A nasty cult that I had to get out of. I wanted nothing to do with them, with the place, the people, not even my own parents. I wanted to forget that place ever existed.

Pelle, on the other hand, was very devoted to our home. He followed all the rules, did everything that was asked of him. He moved to America to go to school, but to also possibly persuade me into returning home, at least for our Midsommar festival. Of course, it didn’t work. I’d never go back there, not in a million years.

Why did he have to become friends with my boyfriend? Was it on purpose? Was this just another one of his ploys to get me to come home? See, that is what the cult did to people, they stripped them of their emotions and made them manipulative and evil. I had hoped Pelle might’ve been different.

I placed their drinks on a tray and waved Pelle away. He glared at me as he returned to the table. I put on my best fake smile and walked over, carefully placing each drink in front of the boys. I began taking their orders when Mark wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Are you coming with us, baby?” he asked.

I could feel Pelle’s expectant gaze on me. He was waiting for me to respond, knowing he would get what he wanted no matter what I said. If I said yes, I’d have to stick to my word and go. If I said no, the boys would try to convince me to come with them, which would probably result in me going. There was no way around it. Unless...

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I might. Can we talk about it after work, babe?”

“Of course.” Mark smiled his dazzling smile at me. I smiled back at him, but inside I was hoping I’d be able to convince him not to go to Hårga.

~~~~~~

Mark was waiting for me in his car when I got off work, something I was grateful for as I usually had to take the bus to and from work.

I got into the car with the intentions of immediately asking Mark not to go on the trip, but was distracted when he took hold of my face and began to kiss me deeply. I couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, leaning into him and deepening it when he tried to slide his tongue into my mouth.

I was willing to take my uniform off then and there and let him have me, until I remembered the reason why I had asked to speak with him after work. I managed to push Mark away and breathe, “We have to talk.”

His face fell and worry crossed his face. “Those words are never good.”

“No, no, not like that. I’m not breaking up with you, silly.”

Mark breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good, I don't know what I’d do without you.”

I smiled, feeling the blush creep up around my neck. A little over a year with him, and he still made every day feel like the first.

“What do you want to talk about then?” he asked.

“It’s...about the Midsommar festival...about Hårga,” I told him.

“Sounds pretty awesome. You should totally come, babe, it is your hometown after all.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, Mark, I’m not going. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about, you can’t go either.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What? Why can’t I go? It’s just a festival, isn’t it? Like drinking, partying, excitement?”

“No, no it’s nothing like that. It’s far worse. It’s not a happy festival, and you can’t go. You can’t even be friends with Pelle anymore if he comes back, you have to cut him off all together.”

“Baby, baby, calm down,” Mark said, taking hold of my face. I realized in that moment that I was starting to hyperventilate and tears were running down my face. I looked into his eyes, the ones that I loved so much, as he said softly, “Breathe, that’s it, just breathe. It’s okay.”

He gave me a moment to compose myself, which I appreciated. Just thinking about Hårga always got me so worked up to the point of tears. I hated that place. I really hated it. Why did Pelle have to be friends with Mark? Why did he have to ask Mark to go? Why couldn’t he just fuck off?!

I breathed deeply as I felt myself getting worked up again. I rested my head against the head rest, looking up at the sky through Mark’s windshield.

“Why don’t you try again?” Mark asked. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why don’t you want me to go?”

I took one last deep breath, holding it for a few counts before letting it out.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” I told him.

“I might, but I’ll believe you. Whatever has you so worked up, crazy or not, is definitely a real reason for me not to go. Tell me what it is, babe.”

I ran my hand through my hair and decided to tell Mark everything. I told him all about Hårga, about the Midsommar festival, about how, by the end of it, nine people would be killed, some of them willingly and some murdered, for the sake of “sacrifice”. I told him that Pelle was leading him into a trap that would result in him either dying or being stuck in Hårga for the rest of his life.

“That’s why I moved to America,” I told him. “I wanted to move as far away as possible from Sweden, as to never have to go back to there. I didn’t think anyone would ever find me here, but Pelle managed to track me down. I still think that he befriended you guys on purpose so he could use you as a reason to get me to go home. I don’t want you to go, please promise you won’t go Mark.”

Tears were starting to form in my eyes again and I had to wipe them and hope Mark didn’t see. I knew it all sounded crazy, that if you weren’t from there you’d probably think I made it all up for some reason, and the crying certainly wasn’t helping that. I had to get him to see that I was being serious, to believe me. I had to convince him not to go.

Mark looked at me for a while, and I was sure he was going to tell me I was crazy. To my surprise, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. He sat, waiting, until whoever he called answered.

“Hey man. Yeah, I’m calling about the trip. Listen, something just came up, personal shit, I can’t go.” On the other end, I could hear my brother’s muffled voice questioning why. “It’s just personal, I can’t go. Maybe some other time. See you later, man.”

I heard my brother cursing at Mark, hearing my name slip out of his mouth once before Mark hung up. Then, he just looked at me.

“I can’t promise the guys will believe me,” he said, “but I can try to convince them not to go. That just means doing it at a time that Pelle isn’t with them, so he can’t refute my claims. Which will be hard since all the four of us do is hang out together.”

“You - you believe me?” I breathed.

“Of course I do. Sure, it sounds insane, but even talking about it has you so worked up, I would be so stupid to think it wasn’t true. Would I like to see the place you were born? Fuck yeah! But not if you don’t want to go, and not if it’s a horrible place. We can go somewhere else, somewhere less...murder-y. Just the two of us.”

I smiled and wrapped my arms around Mark, hugging him so tightly he almost had to pry me off of him so I didn’t suffocate him.

“Can I stay over to your place tonight?” I asked when I sat back in my seat. "I don’t feel comfortable to be home. I’m afraid Pelle might show up.”

Mark smirked. “I thought you were coming over anyways so we could finish what we started when you got in the car.”

I giggled and fastened my seatbelt as Mark turned the car on and we started towards his place. I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulder, and thus decided to reach over and take hold of Mark’s hand.

He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was I. I wouldn’t have to worry about having to go home, or having to lose Mark. All felt right in the world once again.

@maryhuffxoxo

#mark #mark imagine #will poulter #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader #midsommar #midsommar imagine #one shot #imagine #request

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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

Text

A Villainous Meeting

“Good morning, my fucklings!”

Verosika Mayday, the pink succubus, strolled into the room, wearing her high heels, heart-shaped sunglasses, short black and white dress and her faux pink scarf. She blew a bubble of pink gum before spitting it out in a nearby trash can. The fellow employees sat at a cracked black round table with bloodstained high-backed chairs with eyes on the tops. The Wrath Ring imp Striker merely smirked and nodded as he fiddled with the wheat stalk in his mouth. He wore his usual gray and brown cowboy gear with a hat and boots. Fizzarolli, the robotic jester imp, looked around eagerly at the small office room decorated with circus posters and porn magazine covers. Verosika was shown in a seductive pose with her gang on one poster, while another poster showed a sinister Fizzarolli with handcuffs advertising a “Loo Loo Land’s Fizzy Buddy, Brand New Vibrating Toy, Use At Your Own Risk!” A few pictures here and there displayed Striker riding his black hell-horse BulletProof through the desert with a mane and tail of fire. Finally, Vortex, the dark grey hellhound bodyguard, stared at his phone, wearing all black clothing.

They were located somewhere in the Lust Ring under a pink sky in an abandoned building that looked like a warehouse from the outside. Spray-painted in red were the words “D.I.C.K. Headquarters,” on the door to the office.

“Remind me why you choose “dick” to be our name?” Striker muttered to Verosika.

“It’s spelled D.I.C.K. It stands for Demonic Immediate Crazed Killers,” Verosika replied. “Figured it described all of us well, because we do what I.M.P. does, only better.”

“You and your sexual innuendos,” Striker began, and then winked. “I like it.” Fizzarolli giggled.

Verosika cleared her throat. “Do any of you fuckers know why we’re here?”

“Because I took this job after you and I got drunk and did a one night stand?” Striker asked with a smirk.

“No!” Verosika bellowed in anger, though she knew it was true. She then blushed and stepped back. “I drank too much beelzejuice after returning back from Earth, alright? And you happened to be there staring at me with lust in your eyes with a bottle of Inferno 66 in hand. Let me tell you, sucking prisoner dick with your gang is worse than eating shit out of a toilet. Besides, I needed some time to recover after having to walk around after Blitzo took my parking spot. When we were together, he left me to pay for the hotel room, rang three rings around Wrath and maxed my credit card...”

“…on shitty horse-riding lessons, yeah yeah, I got it,” Striker said with a wave of his hand. “You told us the story like five times.”

“Is it because that imp was so jealous of my accomplishments at the circus that he set all of Loo-Loo Land on fire and allowed my robotic counterpart Robo Fizz to get eaten by a dragon?” asked Fizzarolli.

“How did you hear about that?” Vortex asked without looking up.

Fizzarolli turned nervous. “My boss Mammon heard about the incident and was furious. He said that unless I helped boost sales, fix the theme park and capture him…”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Verosika sighed. “My gang and I got a bunch of warnings and threats from daddy Ozzie.”

“You mean Asmodeus?” asked Vortex.

“Yeah. He wasn’t very happy that I nearly exposed the humans to the existence of demons. We go topside in disguise to feed on their lust every spring. If Blitzo hadn’t kept that fact secret…well let’s just say Valentino pales in comparison to what Ozzie can do to you.”

Everyone shivered at the prospect of the Ring Overlords’ plans.

“To answer your question, Verosika, it is because I failed to kill that pompous owl prince Stolas?” Striker asked. “I was this close to finishing off that wimp imp and persuading Blitzo to join me. He’s a formidable fighter, and he’s half succubus.”

Verosika crossed her arms. “There’s nothing special about him. He just pushes people away when they get too close and only cares about his job, murder and his stupid horses!”

“Hmm…he’d be a fun little toy to play with,” Striker mused as Fizzarolli smirked. “We can all agree on that, right?”

Everyone but Vortex murmured in agreement.

“Yes,” Verosika called, shoulders square. “That is the reason why we’re all here. Because of them!”

Verosika pointed to the whiteboard which had pictures of Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, Loona and Stolas pinned on it. Several knives were stuck inside the pictures and scribbles in red on the white board read “Fuck I.M.P.!” “Striker Is Better Than You!” “Fizzarolli Was Here!” and “Verosika, Call Me For a Good Time!”

“And I’m gonna led this shit!” she added.

“What makes you the leader?” Striker inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not the leader per se. Stella organized this group and Striker recruited us,” Verosika explained. “Though I’m technically higher than imps, sinners and hellhounds, so I say the position is a good fit.”

Striker scowled. “We get treated like scum in Wrath enough as it is. I ain’t gonna play nice if you don’t show me some respect.”

“Prove to me you’re better than that scumbag Blitzo.”

“I already did…in bed at the club, remember?”

Fizzarolli laughed much to Verosika’s disgust.

“While I will admit it felt amazing, that’ll be the last time I ever sleep with an imp. And I certainly don’t need some rogue cowboy to get in the way of my revenge.”

“Need I remind you, missy,” said Striker, “That I’m the one who recruited you and the jester in the first place? After you were getting over your hangover, you told me to fuck off or else your friends would have their fun with me.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I then noticed your heart tattoo on your shoulder with “Blitzo” crossed out. Then I asked, ‘Having imp problems, too? Wishing to see a certain imp?’”

“And I said ‘no, none of your damn business, imp.’”

Striker continued, “But then I told you, ‘I’m on a covert mission to take down a worthless royal…and to meet up with I.M.P.s leader. Perhaps I could offer you my services to you, monetary and otherwise, if you could tell me more about him.’”

“Yes and I did,” she said. “I remembered Robo Fizz back when I worked in the circus with Blitzo and figured he’d be a good person to talk to.”

“Hmpth,” Fizzarolli interrupted. “His business may be impressive, but his jokes were utterly pathetic! I got to be the star of the shows while he got to be alone and unloved! Ha!”

Verosika briefly stared at him. “You sure you didn’t get jealous because Blitzo left you behind and made more money killing people?”

Fizzarolli turned slightly red. “What?! No! How stupid are you?”

“Perhaps smarter than you think,” Verosika remarked, her boobs bouncing slightly.

“Get a room, love-fuckers!” Fizzarolli mocked to Striker and Verosika. “At least I was the first villain to appear in the show! First is the best! And my Ring is higher than yours!”

“Oh partner, even a sex bot like you…”

“I’m not a bot!”

“…could never handle what’s under these jeans.”

Striker smirked and continued the story. “Then I told slutty clown about Blitzo and he seemed to understand who he was,” said Striker. “I said, ‘A Goetia is giving me cash to kill a royal and that imp leader from I.M.P. What do you say we bask in riches, glory and chaos?’”

“I remember saying, ‘Is this a scam? Loo Loo Land must be fixed!’” said Fizzarolli.

Striker recalled what he said back to Fizzarolli,“’Mammon sent you off on a mission, didn’t he? Just like Asmodeus gave a warning to Verosika and what Stella did to me. All our stories and failures are connected. Connected because of what those imps did. If you can help me track down I.M.P. and that prince…no more worries for you.’”

“The show must always go on,” mused Fizzarolli. “It wasn’t like I had many other options. As long as my boss is satisfied…”

“And mine…” added Verosika.

“And mine…” added Striker.

“Indeed, we must all complete this mission, or else we’re all dead,” Verosika finished.

“Double dead,” Vortex corrected in a low voice, making the others shiver. “The Seven Deadly Sins do have angelic weapons. You’ll wish you were frozen in the Ninth Circle.”

“Hell only has seven,” Fizzarolli added.

“Shut up.”

“Loo Loo Land burned down, Asmodeus and Mammon got together, we took the Hellevator through the Ring portals and the rest is history,” said Verosika. “Now I’m stuck with an imp and a robot.”

“I’m an imp!” Fizzarolli protested.

“You’re just a robot,” Verosika replied.

“With partial robotic features! The model for all Robo Fizzs made by Mammon himself!”

“Still just a sex toy,” said Verosika.

“A useful one, nevertheless. One who Stella herself deems valuable, right Striker?”

“She did say to me, ‘I don’t care who you have to go through.’ Never thought I’d be dealing with a bunch of hooligans from other Rings,” Striker remarked.

After several minutes of loud arguments and hisses, Vortex barked loudly. “Shut the fuck up!”

Everyone then sat down in silence before Vortex stared at his phone again. “I never get paid enough for this shit,” he muttered.

“Somebody tell me any useful information about I.M.P. before I lose my shit!” Verosika barked, almost going into her demonic shadow form.

“The only reason why I’m here,” said Striker, his voice turning calmer and darker, “Is for my money from Stella. And revenge of course. Let me tell you where I think Blitzo will be at next.”

The villains crept closer.

“I came to the Lust Ring because I heard from Stella that this is where Stolas likes to “entertain” himself as it were.” His glowing eyes spiraled in yellow-green hypnotic circles. “Rumor has it that he goes to Ozzie’s place to cheer himself up. Heard he suffered quite a breakup from his dear hurt wife. And to have Stella potentially gain custody over his dear daughter…man that must’ve broken that bird’s heart.”

“Oooh what a charming little theater!” Fizzarolli remarked. “Stripper dances, pole dances, lots of lustful siren songs. Winged imps serve you food and other imps are in cages for display! Hahahaha! It is almost as good as the Big Top in Loo Loo Land!”

“Was, you mean,” Striker smirked before the jester seethed.

“I still perform there,” Verosika said. “When I’m not traveling around the Rings on tour. Lust is my home, after all.”

“Greed is mine!” Fizzarolli said.

“You already know where I’m from,” said Striker. “No one fucking cares.”

“Mammon and Asmodeus heard the news as well,” said Fizzarolli. “I heard Stella had a meeting with them at midnight last night. That was before we all got our orders to come here to Lust.”

Vortex looked up in concern. “It’ll only be a matter of time before Lucifer hears about this, too. Not just about the trouble I.M.P. has caused, but now that humans know of Hell…”

“Let’s focus on one problem at a time,” said Verosika with a deep breath. “We’re in no rush. It’s not like our leader’s gonna call us and demand…”

Just then, Verosika’s pink computer beeped and rang.

“Shit,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

Everyone straightened up as Verosika pushed a button. Stella’s angry white feathered face appeared on the Zoom/Doom screen. She scrutinized all their faces with pink glowing eyes, her face appearing on the screen.

“Striker,” Stella began, her golden crown shining on her head. “So this is the gang you recruited?”

“Yes ma’am!” he grinned.

“Hmm…” she pondered. There’s you…there’s some clown imp, there’s a fine-looking succubus…from who knows where…”

“The clown is Fizzarolli or Robo Fizz,” said Striker. “The succubus is Verosika.”

“Working for a queen, Striker?” Verosika asked. “How…”

“Long story, I already told you,” Striker said. “She’s desperate…”

“You bet that’s right!” Stella barked. “Then again, I’m…mildly impressed that you managed to get such a…diverse crew together.” She didn’t bother to hide her disgust. “Well done.”

Striker beamed with pride.

“But we’re far from done! You have no idea how long I’ve waited to properly unleash these feelings in me.”

Fizzarolli giggled and Striker elbowed him hard.

“That stupid prick of my husband thinks he can sleep all he wants with that assassin imp…in our fucking bed behind my back! If he stays any longer, my family will be a laughing stock. I’ll be stripped of my royal status and goodness knows what bad influence he’ll have on Octavia.”

Stella paused, brief hurt in her voice. She didn’t dare cry, though. “Sometimes I wish he didn’t have to die. That all three of us could be a good family again like we once were. He could’ve been a proper responsible father, kept the grimoire safe from the imp, and none of this would’ve happened.”

Fizzarolli cried tears at the rant while Vortex rolled his eyes. Striker yawned. Verosika, however, seemed to listen with a common understanding. She and Blitzo had been together and then they were broken up and fighting. Although she wanted power and revenge like Fizzarolli and Striker, she knew what it was like to get the short end of the stick in a relationship.

“Then again, I was forced into marrying Stolas millennia ago by my parents. It’s obvious I’d concern myself with status and wealth and hold my resentment inside.”

‘All that wealth, all that power,’ thought Striker, greedily. ‘Watch her talk on and on until the rug slips from under her feet…and the glory becomes all mine!’

“I love my daughter and Stolas…I really do…but…I must do what has to be done!” Right then, her regal imposing side was back.

She stared into their eyes, glaring at Striker in particular. “First of all, if any of you land a finger on my daughter, I’ll make sure your screams are heard by every Ring in Hell. She must not be harmed. But…if I have to use Octavia as leverage as a last resort to bring Stolas to his knees…then so be it. I don’t care what we have to do…I just want him dead. Do you all understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Striker. The others nodded.

“Good. Now to review the plan. Stolas and I recently had our breakup. He will be going to the same place he always goes to when he’s upset: Ozzie’s place. If you spot I.M.P., follow them, but do not attack yet.”

She continued. “Striker, your objective is the same: kill Stolas with your angelic weapons. Keep them safe in your hands at all times, but eliminate anyone who gets in your way.”

Striker already glowered at Fizzarolli and Verosika who were staring closely at his pistol.

“If you use it on anyone else important,” Stella said, suspicion already in her eyes. “I’ll fuck you with your own horns.”

Striker nodded, with the tip of his hat.

“Verosika, you will track down Blitzo and distract him inside the club,” said Stella. “Use any manipulative means necessary to catch him off guard. Fizzarolli, you and Asmodeus will sneak behind Moxxie and take down the other I.M.P. members. Verosika’s crew and some Robo Fizzs will also join in.”

She added in a sing-song voice, “You’ll all receive an extra bonus and royalty favors if you bring me their heads!”

Fizzarolli grinned. “This is gonna be so fun!”

“The rewards. Striker, you’ll be rewarded by me for killing Stolas. 10,000 souls or more. And a new home in Wrath for you and your family.”

Striker had to roll his eyes. He didn’t have a family anymore. He didn’t just want 10,000 souls. Now that he thought about it, he wanted much more.

“Fizzarolli, Loo-Loo land will be repaired and you’ll get to lead future productions in Lu Lu World. Plus money, your own brand and perhaps…” she whispered so only he could hear, “…freedom.”

“Oh goody!”

“Verosika…more tours, more sex and money for you. You’ll be the star of every Ring in Hell.”

Verosika grinned and fluffed her long pink-white hair.

Stella smirked in a manner unfit for a queen. “And to make things a little more fun…as a way to show Stolas what his infidelity means…a special prize for the first one to kill Blitzo for me…”

She playfully massaged her boobs under her pink dress. All the villains minus Vortex blushed in delight and shock as they knew what she was implying. Verosika’s gang in the far back of the room watched while eating popcorn. Vortex made a face of disgust.

Seconds later, Stella was regal again. “And you there, dog!” Stella called, making Vortex look up. “Verosika has a special assignment for you.”

“What?” he asked.

“Keep a close eye on that loony hellhound of theirs,” Verosika grinned deviously.

Worry was etched onto Vortex’s face as he nodded. Though he had a girlfriend, he had found Loona adorable at the beach on Earth. He couldn’t believe what he had to do now.

“I’ll keep you updated on Stolas’ whereabouts and when it’s time to move,” Stella finished. “Do not disappoint me.”

The screen went dark.

“Well, that’s a wrap folks,” said Verosika. “Meeting dismissed. Fuck around, get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

Verosika took out her phone and began texting.

“Who are you texting?” Vortex asked.

“There’s this pink southern succubus sinner named Martha,” Verosika grinned. “She says she leads an army in the name of Satan and they want blood after being killed by you know who on Earth. Ralphie and her two kids live with her there. She also wants this Mayberry sinner dead.”

“What does that mean?” Striker asked.

Verosika grinned. “It means…we have a potential ally in the Pride Ring!”

“Awesome!” said Fizzarolli. “Their enemies keep growing and growing!”

The villains laughed.

“With so many souls seeking revenge, I.M.P. won’t know what hit ‘em!” Fizzarolli cackled.

“Yes, but let’s focus on our main mission first,” said Striker. “Perhaps we’ll have the honor of getting to them first!”

The villains laughed again and retired to bed.

‘This plan better work,’ Striker thought. ‘Because Stolas’ blood will not be the only blood that’ll be on my hands soon enough…’

#helluvaboss #villains #legion of doom

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honey-harper-official · 4 years

Text

Evander Wade Hate AU - Chapter 6

MasterList for Evander Wade Hate AU

Word Count: 2463

This is an AU where Evander Wade is secretly a villain purely because I hate him and also I’m fixing some of the issues I have with cannon because it’s fanfiction so I will.

Reglogs >>>>> likes

And comment too!

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Nova's first objective was to find a safe place to stay before she bothered to even leave the Anarchists. The step after that was to get back the vitality charm and her personal items from the Anarchists without them knowing. The final step was leaving and cutting them off completely.

Nova sat on the iron bed of the rowhouse next to Adrian as they scrolled through apartment listings on his laptop. She didn't want something big. She just needed something small, somewhere safe that she could afford with the money she had stored away from working for the Renegades.

As long as you weren't one of the juvenile's who were part of their reform program for younger kids, then you got paid for your work and Nova had to create a bank account using her fake name and papers. But at this point she planned on using those forever and she didn't have any other papers or signs like birth certificates or social security numbers that proved she existed.

"I just told Danna that everything is all good between us and we can tell Ruby and Oscar. She said tomorrow we can all go to her place and explain it to them," Adrian said, looking up from his wrist band.

"That's good. I hope Ruby and Oscar aren't too pissed at me," Nova said.

Adrian pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't worry too much about it. Neither of them are one to hold a grudge and it's not like you did anything super personal to them. They get the idea that your decisions weren't entirely up to you."

"Don't push how much the Anarchists forced me into it. I mean I was definitely.. guilt tripped into it often but I took that and ran far with it. Not like they didn't encourage me though."

Nova didn't want to not take credit for her actions. She had done terrible things and needed to own up to them. She wasn't entirely proud of all her decisions but some like fucking up Frostbite's team were worth it. However it didn't mean all her decisions were good and didn't need her to take credit for them in order to move on.

However, she did need to learn that it wasn't all her fault. She hadn't realized that the way she was raised, like a soldier made for one sole purpose that would make her worthless if she didn't succeed, wasn't the way other people were raised. It had most definitely fucked her up and it would be a lot of work to undo all the damage that the Anarchists caused.

If she could even escape them.

It was just Honey and Leroy and they were the ones she could negotiate most with. Leroy had given her the choice before and maybe he would let her have that choice again. And Honey could probably be persuaded if Nova took the right course of action.

But if they wouldn't let her go, then it didn't really matter what happened anyways. She would have to tell them that people knew and would give her help if they didn't let her leave and if they didn't want that, then they would probably kill her.

And nothing really mattered much anyways if she was dead. It would probably devastate Adrian, but at least her being under the thumb of the Anarchists wouldn't be an issue any more.

Unfortunately there was no way to escape that hold without telling them or else they would find her and keep coming back unless she told them she wanted out. It was the only way out.

Nova spotted an apartment on the website.

It was a small studio apartment by the Renegades Headquarters and not too far from Adrian's place. That way she'd be close to Adrian and friends.

It also wasn't too expensive and she could easily afford it with her salary and what she had stored away in her savings.

If something was missing, like heat or electricity, then Nova could set that up herself. She did that in the tunnels and she knew how to survive with nothing after living in a train car with hardly anything but the clothes on her back for ten years.

Luckily all the basic amenities and even some furniture, such as a bed and little breakfast table, was included in the apartment though she was completely prepared to go without those things.

It wasn't like what she was paid wouldn't be enough to support her. A lot of adults worked for the Renegades and they all had to make a living and provide for their own families so of course she would have enough to get by.

"This one looks good," Nova said, showing it to Adrian.

He leaned in closer, reading the listing. "That's actually pretty close to Danna's apartment too. I think she's on that street but a different apartment complex. And the reviews are nice too."

Nova hadn't even looked at the reviews of the landlords and the apartment complex in general. Everyone left good reviews and said that the landlords, a couple with the names of Cleo and Estelle, were lovely ladies who were understanding and never raised rent. They allowed pets and were very lenient with the rules.

They seemed nice and all Nova had to do was send them an email and go see the place in person. After that there would probably be papers to sign and all that but it didn't matter much when Nova was finally going to have a space of her own.

She could get rid of the Anarchists and shed the violence that she was involved with and the violence that surrounded her. She could be safe with no one hunting her down and she was free to do her own things. She wouldn't have to worry about not being able to eat for a week or the power going out or someone dragging her away.

Nova, after ten long years, could finally have a home.

She hadn't realized how badly she wanted it until now.

"Are you alright my star?" Adrian asked suddenly, squeezing her hand.

She cocked her head, confused at the name. She was sure he was talking to her as there was no one else aside from them but she didn't know why he chose to call her that.

"What?"

"I asked if you were okay."

"No I understand that and I'm relieved that I found a place but what did you call me?"

"I called you 'my star'. Because of your name. I mean I just... never gave you a pet name or a nickname just for us or something like that and I hope it's alright."

He seemed embarrassed, offering her a sheepish smile as he rambled.

Nova cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his nose. She didn't mind the name one bit and instead felt her heart swell with joy at it.

"I like it. Just please stick pet names and nicknames to when we're in private."

She could think of several reasons as to why pet names in public was a bad idea. The media was already obsessed enough with Renegades, especially him, and she didn't need it on every tabloid to exist. She certainly didn't need everyone at Headquarters talking about it and she didn't want the team to start making fun of them either. It was all too big of a distraction at the moment and even if it wasn't, she wanted something for herself for once.

Nova had grown tired of other people always knowing her business and didn't want anyone else sticking their nose in it when she was finally starting to have some semblance of privacy for once.

Adrian didn't ask questions about her reasoning though.

"Whatever you want," he assured her.

It was a weird thing to hear; to have whatever she wanted. Nova had never had that either. She had thought she was getting what she wanted, revenge for her family, but it turned out she was wrong. She wanted to be happy instead and the Anarchists had shoved that false idea down her throat instead of letting her heal and recover, instead using her trauma to turn her into their pawn. She was entirely disposable though Nova supposed at this point, since it was just Honey and Leroy and such high stakes, they couldn't really afford to get rid of her now.

That didn't mean anything if she suddenly changed her mind. There was still a small chance they would try to kill her but there was no better person to fight them then the one they had trained to fight and Nova still had their trust. If she could just grab the vitality charm and conjure up a few lies, something she had been getting good at, then she would have everything she would need to run away and cut them off.

Nova shoved the fear down. It would all be alright and at the very least Adrian and Danna had her back and would help her. She would finally be happy and have what she wanted. She would be free and could be with Adrian and live for once.

Nova found the email address under the listing and wrote them a message, asking to come view the apartment that night and hopefully sign a lease on it soon after.

"I'll go over tonight to view and then once I do have a place ready for me to sign the lease, I'll get what I need from the Anarchists and leave. The next day I can tell them the truth and cut them off," Nova told Adrian.

He frowned. "Are you sure they'll let you go?"

She shrugged. "Not entirely but I have a plan. They're more understanding then any of the other Anarchists and they don't have much choice but to let me go. Either that or they kill me but by the time that happens I should have the vitality charm on me to make me more immune to whatever they do."

Adrian still didn't like that idea.

"Let me come with. We'd stand a better chance."

He looked so worried about her but Nova knew that she couldn't take the risk.

"You can be backup," Nova told him. "If something goes wrong I'll call for you but if not then I'm not going to drag you into it and most likely make things worse. I may like you but they certainly don't."

He bit his lip, mulling over his options.

"Fine," he agreed. "But at the first sign of trouble you yell for me and if you don't come back up in fifteen minutes then I'm coming down to get you."

"We can figure out strategy later," Nova said. "Let's just make sure I have a safe place to go until the time comes. I'll tell you when and by then we'll know exactly what to do."

Adrian sighed, pressing his head against hers. "Just please don't get hurt. I don't want them to hurt you more then they already have."

"I know Adrian," she said reluctantly. "But don't worry about me too much. Do you even know who you're talking to? If anyone can handle this, it's me."

He laughed. "Well you did take down Gargoyle without anything but a banner and a toy canon."

"And I also shot the Detonator, took down all of Frostbite's team, and let's not forget the many times I kicked the asses of our whole team as Nightmare with limited uses of my powers," Nova listed off, cupping his face, their noses touching.

"Okay now you're just bragging," Adrian laughed.

"I have the right to be cocky and we both know it sinta," Nova said, purposely calling him 'darling' in Tagalog. In her household with her parents, English had been the only common language between her mom and dad though it wasn't the first language of either of them. Her dad spoke Italian and her mom spoke Tagalog and she learned both though she had to read dictionaries in different languages and spend nights talking to herself in Italian and Tagalog to remember the languages until she was fluent.

Even now, she still practiced. Nova didn't know anyone else that shared those languages and so she had no need to use them.

But if Adrian was giving her pet names then she wanted to give him one too and it gave her a change to use her parent's original languages.

"Are you calling me a dumbass or sweetheart in another language?" Adrian asked.

"I'm calling you 'darling' in Tagalog, one of the main languages of the Philippines and the language my mom used most with me," Nova explained.

"Oh," Adrian said softly, warmth seeping into her palms from his cheeks. "I didn't know you knew any other languages."

"Both my parents were immigrants so English wasn't their first language. My dad spoke Italian and my mom spoke Tagalog but they spoke to one another in English and spoke to me in their first languages as much as they did English so I learned all three," she told him. "Though I have had to spend a lot of nights practicing so I don't forget because it's not like there's anyone to talk to in those languages."

Adrian offered her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm glad you finally get to speak in them though is that part of the reason you always mumbled a lot under your breath? Were you plotting or speaking in another language and trying to find the right word to say?"

Nova smiled sheepishly. "A decent amount of both."

He laughed and then his band went off, beeping.

"Max wants me to come see him," Adrian explained.

"Are you going to sneak into the hospital to go see him?" Nova asked, eyebrow raised.

Clearly, Max seemed to figure out that Adrian was the Sentinel and have given himself tattoos to give himself new powers, including on of the vitality charm over his heart which was helping heal the wound on his side.

"That's the plan. You want to come and get a piece of the action?"

She shook her head. That would not work at all. She'd be a dead give away to what he was doing and she needed to get things in order to go check out the apartment and meet the landlords.

"Not now but I'll text you after I see the apartment and I'll tell you how it goes."

"Okay," Adrian said, giving her a quick kiss. "'ll talk to you then."

He took his things and left after that, leaving Nova feeling both giddy over what had happened and yet filled with dread of the future.

---------------

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

Note

I hope you're doing well! I know you posted about a stressful situation last month, and I hope it's resolved itself. Sending good wishes you you and Hamlet!

Thank you so very much for checking in on me! I really do appreciate it. An update to that post under the cut.

Carol, who moved in with me on May 28, is still here. Right now, we have set a tentative move-out goal of the first or second week of August, but this is pending an apartment application that she hopes to finalize on Monday and a job situation that is a complete mess.

Basically, according to my limited understanding, Carol is licensed to teach in Florida. Alabama has a reciprocity clause with Florida, but it must be applied for. Carol has recently begun this process, but her teaching license(s?) is (are?) set to expire in December unless she passes certain exams. She’s already passed one for...general middle and high school teaching, I think, but failed a math exam. She has an art history exam Monday afternoon and expects to pass. I hope so, because she’s been doing nothing but watching Netflix and shopping for houses for the last few days in her new 2017 Jeep Cherokee.

I remain unspeakably grateful to my parents for teaching me financial literacy, because until I witnessed Carol’s decision-making, I had no idea how hard it was for some people to not spend money unwisely.

As a reminder, Carol is dead broke. She has $153,000 in debt across student loans, medical bills, Czech and US taxes, and some personal loans she would like to repay to friends for helping her. She is unemployed and has no support from her family and has relied on couch surfing at friends’ and acquaintances’ homes since last summer for housing. Since moving in with me, she has been trying to find somewhere to live that would accept her with all her debt and her nonexistent US employment history for the last ten years. Based on what she’s said, I think she has about $9k in the bank--or did, until last week.

In short, she needs a car, a job, and a home, and as far as I can tell she doesn’t care which order they come in.

Two weeks ago, she was offered a position in a rural town about 30 minutes from where I live. It’s a small, very country town which desperately needs a special education teacher, something I think Carol really does have a passion for. However, because she hasn’t finished the reciprocity licensure application yet, they’re having a lot of roadblocks with her paperwork, compounded by the fact that when she left Prague last year, she left all her important documentation behind: things like her birth certificate, her social security card, and her letters of recommendation, which for some reason she did not have electronic backups of. The principal has been trying to get what she needs from Carol for two weeks. Carol is constantly saying that things are “in process” but has nothing to show for it.

As far as we can tell, the job is still hers, but the school year starts August 13th and she still hasn’t been approved by the Board of Education because the paperwork is still not finished on her end. She did not attempt to replace her birth certificate or social security card until they needed it for the application. (Her friend in Prague--and I am beginning to realize she uses the word “friend” for anyone she’s met longer than sixty seconds), who frantically packed up all her belongings when she realized she would not be able to go back to the city, cannot ship her belongings or go through them for the important paperwork until next summer, as she and her husband are currently vacationing in Rome for a year.

Carol decided last night she is also going to apply for some online Department of Defense position--I didn’t understand the details and don’t really want to know, except that it’s also teaching and some administration. We’ll see how it works out. She is growing increasingly annoyed at the principal’s requests for paperwork completion, which baffles me.

So, job: shrug? Maybe?

Car next, then, but this whole mess also goes back to the financial literacy thing. My parents have always been extremely frugal (pennywise, as my dad would say), and from childhood they made it very clear to us to not buy things you couldn’t afford. They’ve never had a car payment in my memory, and they paid off their house about ten years ago. This means they drove a lot of junkers for a very long time, and for a very long time we had very few vacations, but now they’re fully financially stable and debt-free and my mom has a car that she drove off the lot brand new that they paid cash in hand for.

If I had been in Carol’s situation, I would have found a cheap, mostly reliable used car that probably wasn’t going to explode on me and drive that as long as I could while saving up for housing. I did in fact drive her to look at several used cars, most of which would have been even outside my expected budget (hers, as it happens, is larger even than that, because one of her overseas friends was willing to contribute $5000 to the cost of a vehicle). (I paid $6500 for my current car, a 2004, in college in 2012 with 70,000 miles on it at the time, and have driven it ever since.)

She rejected all of them because they did not have good “energy” and “feelings.” One she was willing to buy at $3700, but told the seller to go pay for his own inspection (once I explained to her what mechanical inspections were as a concept), so they ghosted her. She also is extremely afraid of head gasket failure--I don’t know why, since she knows nothing about cars--and has assumed all vehicles she has driven are on the verge of it, so after the first week she refused to even look at a vehicle without a warranty.

This means she exclusively limited herself to used dealership options, which I’m just going to come right out and say was monumentally stupid. I don’t know if any car dealers follow me, so I’m sorry if I am misperceiving this, but in my experience almost every dealer I’ve gone to has been aggressive, manipulative, and extremely predatory in their interest rates. I cannot think of a riskier course of action in abject debt than to try to cut a deal with a car dealer for the sake of a warranty I doubt will cover that much truly expensive failure in the long run anyway.

On Thursday, Carol bought a $20,000 2017 Jeep Cherokee from a dealership down the road. I don’t know what she put down. I do know she did not use her friend’s money (why not??) and I know her interest rate on the car loan is 4%, which she is extremely proud of and which horrifies me. She also “persuaded” them into a limited warranty that will cover the vehicle up to 100,000 miles (currently at 42k, and they ~only offer it for cars under 40,000 miles~). I can’t tell you how bad an idea I think all this is.

Thursday night, as she was regaling me with stories of her negotiating prowess, she also tells me she has decided to buy a house. She’s sick of renting, and somehow, someone somewhere managed to get her approved for up to $120,000 in a home loan. She already has $150k in debt, another $20k from the car, and now wants to buy a house. She was delighted that she could make the minimum 7% down payment, even though it would wipe out every cent she has left and leave her less than $500 to her name for moving expenses, utilities, food, title registration, etc. afterwards.

She doesn’t even have a secure job yet.

However, this plan seems to have fallen through. She went out with a realtor several times this weekend and came home the last time in great, heaving sobs, because she can’t find the 3bed 2bath she wanted in her price range. (For reference, most homes in this area go between 200k - 250k right now for 2-3bed 2ba, and the closer you get to the city--I have about a 20 minute commute--the higher it gets. My next door neighbor sold her 3bed 2.5ba for >300k three months ago, and Carol knew this.) She was absolutely devastated that the only things in her range were “tiny little ugly flipped houses” and “the ghetto.” The realtor basically said she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time. Carol repeatedly told me how grateful I should be that I got in at the price point I did a few years back, because no “normal people” could ever afford to break into the market again.

I tried to tell her that it was because I lived in with a roommate in very cheap housing and then a cell of a 1bed 1ba apartment for eight years while I saved money, but if nothing else, I’ve learned I’m not allowed to compare our situations or histories or offer advice of any kind except “go ahead and buy what you want,” because that only makes her cry harder. In the end, she has decided to give up on the house for now and settle for the absolute last thing in the world she wanted, an apartment with a lease.

To be honest, until she has a signed contract in hand, I half-expect this lease to fall through as well. I have tried to offer what I think is sensible advice and been ignored or rebuffed. I have tried to offer a sympathetic ear and ended up with her sobbing uncontrollably on me--heaving, body-wracking sobs--over and over again with me trapped in my own home, providing endless emotional support for a girl I don’t even like. I have tried to encourage her to do the things she wants to do, since she’s going to do them anyway, and when she gets “negative energy” after the purchases (buyer’s remorse, I think, that one little inkling of sense saying maybe it wasn’t a great idea to buy a $20,000 car or an $1100 brand new iPhone without a job), she blames it on the exact thing I said I thought might be good and makes me feel like I have now directly contributed to a negative outcome after poor decision-making.

For the record, when she says these things to me she is not saying, and has never said, them directly at me. She has never blamed me in any way for a negative outcome. She is not consciously trying to manipulate me or abuse me or take advantage of my help. She has never once asked me for money or job connections or for me to use any of my stability to unfairly or unethically get her something she needs. She is just completely absorbed in her own (rightfully absorbing) mess of a situation, and I think just completely unaware of how much of an emotional black hole she has become. There are no problems except her problems. There are no needs except her needs, and everyone around her has to understand how hard she has it at all times.

So, we’ll see. I am praying that the apartment works out next week. The owner seems to want to work with her, which is a hopeful sign. Good thoughts would be appreciated.

Aside from all of this, work has gotten extremely complicated. I’m not going to go into all of it now, but one of my jobs is to create an extremely detailed schedule for students in clinic. This is used to schedule patients in each service--if we have this many students, we can have this many patient slots per half-day, etc. Last week, two students were out unexpectedly, one who broke her arm the day before she was supposed to begin, and one who had a terrible anxiety attack and thought the symptoms were actually COVID. That student was tested and cleared negative, but Student Health requires a two-week quarantine anyway, so she was not allowed to return.

This meant that we now had multiple patients per day with no one to see them. We tried to reschedule as many as we could, but we still ended up with multiple overbooks. This is extremely stressful for me as both a provider, an instructor, and a human being who hates having other people wait on her in a professional capacity. We got through the week, but not without several painful bumps, and it’s looking like there will be more soon.

I also woke up to an email this morning that one of my favorite students (yes, I have favorites, I’m sorry), had a completely unexpected death in the immediate family and had to rush home. This is a very, very sweet, very smart girl who has worked unbelievably hard over the past year to do well in this program and in my courses, and I am just devastated for her. One of her friends is willing to cover her clinic, so the impact will be minimal on that side, but to have this happen during this country’s hellhole handling of this pandemic...I can’t even imagine it.

All of this isn’t even touching COVID. The President’s side has won in that sense--I don’t even register the numbers anymore--but as of last week our dean sent out messaging that implied that with our state’s failure to contain the spread, new discussions were going to be happening soon regarding our August start. We already had committed to full hybrid scheduling: all lectures online, in-person labs only where absolutely necessary to continue advancement in the program, and those labs limited to two per room with full PPE, but if they decide even that can’t happen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I cannot make competent doctors over Zoom. I can’t. At some point they have to touch other people and look at other people’s eyes. They have to be able to check real, in-person blood pressure. They have to look at genuine eye movements and ocular surfaces in person and I cannot and will not let them enter clinic until they have the practice and the time and the practicals behind them. I fucking refuse to endanger the public for sixty years because someone in an office somewhere decided a timetable is more important than a patient keeping their ability to see, and I’m ready to fight administration on this if they try to push it.

But if I win the fight, what next? They just...don’t enter clinic next year. They don’t enter my program. I don’t know what they do in the meantime, as this lab meets four mornings a week and the lecture twice. The course is delayed until next year or whenever we have the virus under control again, and suddenly my fall semester sure looks like I’ll be being paid to stay at home and count carpet fibers. I don’t think they’ll fire me--no one else wants to teach my course anyway--but if I win this fight I might put myself right into furlough in the process.

I could be borrowing trouble, I know. They could come back and say that after review, our system and safety protocols (all extremely conservative) are indeed safe enough and we can proceed as we want. They could say that our limited in-person option for lectures (we have several gigantic lecture halls that could easily socially distance) is the only thing that needs to go. They could say that we just need to have smaller lab groups--hellish on me, but doable.

But it’s one more element of stress in my life that I just can’t handle worrying about right now, which is why I’ve been bouncing back and forth between random fics and oneshots (that mermaid one was feverishly written on a single evening Carol spent at her mom’s house) and pouring an ungodly amount of hours into Animal Crossing. At least there I have some control over what happens next.

Sorry, guys. I know this is not the happy update I was hoping for. I’ll try to check in again next month and we’ll see where things end up.

#quark rambles #carol #coronavirus for ts #covid-19 for ts #update post #not a happy one for those who can't handle that right now #anonymous #quark replies

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