#waiting in the wings: character study/about | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pomefioredove · 1 month ago

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Hello! Can I please get a #3 sugar cookie with frosting, sprinkles, and chocolate drizzle? Thank you and happy holidays! 😊

delicious yummy prompt... thank you for waiting so patiently, anon! here's one vil fic to finish off apvril

order #3, sugar with frosting, sprinkles, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ are you happy?

summary: an unexpected meeting with fate, and your ex-husband tropes: only one bed, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers characters: vil additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, post-nrc, but also at nrc, DIVORCE!!! I LOVE DIVORCE!! this is long because angst

To the observer, to the other, to the hungry tabloid reporters and your own friends, it was simple: Vil Schoenheit had ruined your life.

Two years wasted on lavender-scented sunscreen and mud baths and a man who dumped you for a movie deal.

It was hard, and you told yourself you'd been through worse: overblots, burns, cuts, broken teeth and bruised ribs, even Crewel's make-up exams. But not even the end of the world itself could hold a candle to this.

This. Anger. This poisonous resentment that filled your lungs, forced bile from your throat, and left a bitter taste on your tongue. This sadness, this fear, this confusion. It left you feeling young again, in all the worst ways. If you closed your eyes, you could feel the drafty, mildewed interior of Ramshackle, the splinters under your cold hands, the moon which so resembled your own home's in the grinning, gap-toothed roof.

You had moved on from that. From Ramshackle, yes, but also from the hope that you might ever see your home again.

He had been there for you, of course. Consoling you, coddling you. Letting you ramble on about your culture and family and the place you grew up, and he was your sanctuary, your escape from reality, from the cold, broken world you had been brought into.

Vil was thoughtful in that way. Always thinking of you. For you.

There was a time when it was difficult- nay, impossible, to imagine yourself without him. He had swept you up in the luxury of loyalty, taken you under his wing like a true mother bird.

That was years ago. And now you're older, lonelier, the subject of pitiful whispers and prying eyes. Your luxurious life had plummeted down into the dirt, exactly where you started. No longer the spouse of a superstar, the sexiest man alive (named so six years in a row by Shaftlands Quarterly). No, now you were nothing but a name lost to internet forums and inactive fan blogs, and you're an employee of Night Raven College.

Funny how that works, isn't it?

More of a peer to the professors who had chastised you for being tardy and forgetting your books than to the students who were once your friends.

Another year of work, another year closer to death, another year further from home.

"And refreshments," Sam says, setting a crate of bottled cranberry cocktails (non-alcoholic, as explained on the label) on the table.

You raise an eyebrow. "Refreshments? Dire is going all out this year, is he?"

"Well, as it so happens, we have very special clientele," Sam smirks. "We want to impress the-"

"Donors," you both say, your own words accompanied by a sigh. "Why am I not surprised?"

Sam shrugs, and you almost smile, unpacking the crates with practiced precision. This wasn't your first family day, after all. Far from it.

"Who's it this time? Another prince? A billionaire heir?"

Sam doesn't respond. Your hands still, and you look over your shoulder at him. He's never one to shy away from work gossip.

Unless...

"Who is it?" you repeat. Sam tsks.

"Schoenheit's boy,"

Your fingers clench around the bottles, nearly crushing them between your dry, worn palms.

You say nothing.

Sam takes to helping you with the drinks, clearing the crate and dressing the table to avoid the awkwardness heavy in the air.

And, then, you speak.

"I didn't know he had children. Well, good for him. I'm sure he's very proud,"

"Positive," Sam deadpans, studying the forced indifference on your face.

"...I'll cover for you."

"Thank you," you exhale, hoping the tension in your body will carry away with your breath. It doesn't.

Cold. It's still cold here.

All of the renovations, all of the hours, all of the sweat and tears and bumps on your head and splinters in your fingers, and Ramshackle is still freezing.

And you even have a fire going. For old time's sake.

It's been years since you'd spent a night in your old dorm, but you couldn't bring yourself to take the long walk back to your apartment in Foothill Town.

Besides, it's a beautiful night.

The sky is clear, and the stars are out.

...Malleus had told you something about stars, once. That they don't change. For all of our worries and woes, for all the human drama in the world, the stars stay as they are. Smiling.

The thought disturbs you. You hadn't let your mind linger on Malleus in years. You only had pieces of him, from the gossip of your coworkers, and even then, they had little to say.

That's how you heard about most of them. Your former classmates. Your friends.

It had been your fault. After you and Vil started arguing, after you were sure there was no saving your marriage, you had forced everyone away. You didn't want to see them. Constant reminders of what you'd once had. No, what you could have had.

He has a son.

A boy. Going to Night Raven College. No doubt a talented mage, like his father. Maybe he has more children. You don't know. You suppose you never will.

Had he married, then? Had his career suddenly not mattered as much as when you were with him? How long did it take? Ten years? One? A month?

You aren't important enough to be asking these questions. You'd always had a bad habit of obsessing over the past, what could have been, what should have been. You supposed it was only a symptom of what had happened to you. That's how Crowley explained it.

Trein had told you, once, sometimes, these things never go away. You never grow out of grief. Mourning makes itself a home within you, like a disease, or a memory, which are more often than not the same miserable affliction.

Would you be like this forever, then? Your body would age and change but your mind would stay here, in bed, in Ramshackle, memorizing the grooves in the wood grain of the ceiling? Dreaming of something else?

You had tried to live, to have an adventure. You had married the prince, you had escaped the tower, you had lived happily ever after. And now you're too old for adventures, and so you only think about other ones.

Perhaps you were suited for a life of pencil-pushing and paperwork. Student records and attendance forms couldn't argue with you, after all.

It made you sympathetic for Crowley, in a way, which was surely a sign of an impending psychotic episode.

"Ah, you're here,"

You shoot up in bed, eyes wide, and your back aches from the sharp movement. Even in the dark of the room, the fading light of day, you recognize him.

You could feel his presence, imposing and impersonal.

"You know..." Vil starts, sitting at the edge of your bed, but delicately, as if afraid he'll frighten you.

"This is the very last place I would've expected you to be."

You look up into the rafters, dripping rainwater and dusted with mold.

"...Likewise. What are you doing here?"

"Don't be foolish, it isn't a flattering look on you," he says. "You know very well I'm here to see you. I wouldn't have come for family day if not for you."

Something in your chest tightens, and the same thing on your tongue, and you forget to speak. He's happy to supply your words for you.

"When did my father ever come to one of these? They're wastes of time, pitiful panhandling attempts from that Headmage of yours,"

"You knew I wouldn't want to see you," you argue.

He smiles, smugly satisfied with your answer, as if you're saying all the things he expected you to. You hate that. "And you knew you wouldn't have a choice,"

Silence follows. Your fingers feel around the bed, finding the limp sheets and pulling them over your chest, like a small child hiding from a monster in the dark.

"You have a son," you say.

Vil hums. "And a daughter,"

"And?"

"And," he repeats the word, as if you had spoken it in another language. "And, what?"

"And? Unlike me, those children didn't come out of nowhere,"

Vil scoffs, though he seems more amused by your sarcasm than not. That's different.

He smooths out the black of his pants, and removes his woollen gloves. Overdressed, even for an event he despises. That's more like him.

"Their mother and I divorced six years ago," he says, as stern as he could, as if he would sooner die than give you the satisfaction of seeing him disturbed. "It was an amicable affair- unlike ours. We had simply fallen out of interest."

Out of interest. Not out of love, you note.

You frown. "Who was she?"

"An actress. We met on the set of the movie,"

You feel a shadow pass over you, a shiver up your spine. The movie, the final nail in the coffin of your marriage. You had been young, too young to marry, really, and you were unhappy with how much time he spent away from you. His career had always come first. The movie- a romantic drama that Neige LeBlanche (now married, happily settled and retired from acting) had passed on- was set to be filmed for six months, across the world from you.

You had begged him not to go. He had gone.

"No children of your own, I presume?" Vil asks, breaking the splintered silence.

"Grim," you say. "But... no human ones."

"Are you seeing someone?"

You won't give him the satisfaction. "I suppose you could say that,"

"Are you happy?"

You shift. The sheets bunch around your waist and the wind blows through the many broken windows in Ramshackle's walls. You're not quite sure how to answer that, and you're also not quite sure why he asked.

Are you happy?

"I'm better," you manage, "Than I was a few years ago. I'm back on my feet."

Vil hums. "I'm glad,"

You lie back down in bed, as if you might really fall asleep here, and dream of being anyone but yourself. Vil lies by your side and looking at the stars through the cat-sized hole in the roof above your heads, as if in understanding.

You don't look at him. "Are you happy?"

"No,"

You don't look at him. "Is it my fault?"

"No,"

You won't look at him. "Would things have been better if we never knew each other at all?"

That's the first time you've said that aloud. Sixteen years of feeling it in your throat and chest and fingertips.

Vil turns to you, and "Don't be stupid," is what he says. "I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't unmarry my ex-wife, I wouldn't unhave my children, I wouldn't forget you. And I know it's terribly selfish. I had always hoped you'd never go home, but when I'd gotten my wish, I took it for granted. I lost you. I've been divorced twice for the same reason- tabloids have made millions on my stupidity. We were children. And foolish ones, at that. I had always thought myself so mature- matronly. I wasn't ready. For any of it."

You look at him. "For any of it?"

"For any of it. And neither were you,"

He cups your cheek in his palm, not feeling for blemishes or dryness, but for the warmth of your body. "I can only hope that you might find it within yourself to forgive me,"

You can't. You don't want to. Forgiving him would be no better than saying goodbye, than finally letting go of yourself, the grief of the people and places you once knew. It would finally force you to grow up.

You aren't ready. You weren't then, you aren't now.

But there's a bead of sweat on his forehead, and a tremble in his lip, that betray something you hadn't even seen when you were married.

He's afraid.

Of what, you can't be sure. You don't actually want to know.

"I do," You breathe outward, your warm breath visible in the cold air. Vil kisses your forehead, and sits in bed. You follow.

"I'd like to see you again. Preferably not in another sixteen years," he says, putting his gloves on, his touch becoming warmer and yet more impersonal. "I'll be visiting my son often. I'm trying to avoid becoming his manager, rather than his father. Lunch?"

Despite his indifference, the professional, confident way of his words, there's still a stammer in his voice, a crack in his lavender-scented mask of perfection.

He's aged, now. There are lines under his eyes.

And you nod. "Lunch. I'll... I'll have Di- The Headmage send you my schedule,"

"Hmph. Better to do it yourself," Vil smiles. "I'll be in touch."

He leaves you there, in Ramshackle, on your bed, the same one you had spent every night for years on, dreaming of something else. You can see your future from here. It's not awful.

Your fingers feel up your forehead, finding nothing but the residue of chapstick.

You hadn't even noticed he wasn't wearing makeup.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued

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yandere-wishes · 4 months ago

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Idea, what if Catgirl!Darling/Reader was called Stray at some point or something and was like Selina’s sidekick at some point, so like Damian can tell Bruce he found a stray and oh it’s just another cat- that is a human

I don’t know, I’m on cough syrup cause I’m sick rn and my thoughts are all wonky

≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼≽^•⩊•^≼

Bruce doesn't think much of it at first, after all his son has always had a penchant for taking in lost, stray, things.

He ascribes it, to genetics, to lineal impulses, to the macabre compassion pumping in his blood.

It's all very Wayne to bring home anguished, ferocious, things. To devote slivers of your soul to every hopeless little thing prowling the Gotham streets.

Bruce doesn't think much of it at first.

Damian had said he had brought home a stray

There was nothing unusual to think about.

But then he sees her, really sees her, the mangled girl with hellfire dancing in her sunken eyes. More cat than girl, more feline than human.

He notices the limp in her leg when she lunges for Damian. Notices her shaking hands when she tries to strangle the boy who only kisses her back. Licking at her lips as his nails dig into the back of her thighs. She claws at his chest. Little kitten trying to kill the robin. So Selina in every way.

Bruce didn't think much of it at first,

He's beginning to realize that was a mistake.

Damian kisses your neck, biting into the crux, nestling your sweet flesh between his teeth, he laps at the skin as you mewl in pain, claw-like nails raking at what little skin is exposed at the base of his neck. A dark chuckle escapes Damian's mouth, it sounds like the chirping of an arrogant robin upon first snowfall. It rings bitterly in your ears. He's enjoying this, isn't he? The little assassin boy may play noble hero, but he'll never escape his roots, his love for the pain, the thrill.

You curse silently at the monstrosity born from the unholy union between the dragon's heir and the bat. Curse at the characters from the stories your mentor, your big sister, used to tell you. When did they become so real? When did fairy tales marry epics and birth horror stories? When did the bird catch the cat?

Damian has your arms pinned painfully behind you, shoulders pulled back unnaturally, bones slipping from their sockets. His lips lower to your chest, kissing, biting, marring.

"Damian, when you said 'stray' I had thought you meant a hungry kitten you found in a back ally or a limping pup from the Narrows. Not Stray, as in the cat burglar."

Damian's emerald eyes lightened in confusion "What part was not clear Father?" his inquiry all too innocent for the boy who had been knawing on your sore lips moments prior. There's a moment of silence, as Bruce looks at you, studying you like a case file, like a cold case cracked open. You wonder if he sees her inside you. The traces of your mentor linger along your body like a second skin. Has he done the same for his sons? Left traces of himself amongst their flesh and bones.

You think it funny for a second, the cartoonish vision that blooms within your mind. That of a bat harboring four little chicks under its midnight wings, atop a mighty oak tree. Whilst underneath a black cat licks her kittens, fussing over their matted fur.

"I see the chemistry brewing between you two," Bruce says his voice carrying the stern baritone of a father, yet awkward and uncertain all in the same breath. "This isn't chemistry" you squeal, voice hoarse from all the screaming, all the uncomfortable vocalizations of pain. "This is phosphorous meeting ozone!"

"That's still technically chemistry" Damian corrects, hands clasped behind his back. Perfect little soldier boy, standing in attention. Waiting for a medal from his general.

Bruce sighs, a microscopic smile dancing across his plump lips.

"I'll let Selina know you're here, she must be worried." Your face lights up in joy, she'll be here soon to rescue you. To save you from the bat's nest. But as Damian pushes you to the nearest wall, caging you between his body and the cement, you think it all too impossible to be saved.

Bruce doesn't think much of it at first.

But he sees it all now.

Damian has always had a weakness for stray things.

He gets it from his father.

I feel like I can make this just a tiny bit darker if I really wanted to...

On a lighter note, Fancy you are my bestie so Imma rant to you for a bit (please don't mind this has been on my mind FOREVER and I need an outlet!!) But lately -in between train rides to school- I've been daydreaming SO hard about a "Catwoman Family" (and a "Batwoman family" cause Kate is the love of my life, but that's irrelevant for now!!)

Like we all know Batman has 4 sons and 3 daughters (I count barbara as his first daughter) but what about Catwoman? Doesn't she deserve a family of her own? Catgirl is my running idea for her sidekick BUT when you mentioned Stray!! I was like "Why not give the woman two daughters!!".

I'm really trying to carve out some time this weekend for drawing. And just sketch out my ideas for Catwoman and Batwoman's sidekicks!!

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luxcuriousao3 · 6 months ago

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I've been messing around lately, writing Ghost in different ways to see which rings most true to his character (in my opinion). I wouldn't say that it does ring true for me in this one (then again this one did spawn from my stalker!Ghost thots, tho this fic isn't part of that universe), but I decided to post it anyway. So this little ficlet, despite being xReader, is more of a Ghost character study than anything else. This characterization is definitely experimental, and leans into the "Ghost and Simon are separate personalities" headcanon. No smut, but still NSFW.

Ghost x general's daughter!Reader

You were the daughter of some aging General, a balding, pot-bellied man on his way out, an honorable discharge in his near future. You’d come to visit him on the base, a tray of gooey brownies held firmly in your hands, two hot cocoas balanced on top, and a visitor’s badge pinned to your chest.

Initially, Ghost hadn’t taken much notice of you. Pretty thing, would be easy to kill, was his first impression. A casual, fleeting thought that he paid no attention to but made Simon shudder. There had been a time that when Ghost was in control, Simon was entirely unaware. He would come to and hours could have passed, sometimes days, or, on one particularly grueling campaign, even weeks. It was how he knew there was something evil lurking inside him. But in the desert, all was revealed, and Simon and Ghost were irrevocably tangled up in one another, the same but not, like two different sides of a single coin.

It wasn’t until you walked straight into his firm, broad chest and spilled the scaldingly hot drinks on him that he really noticed you.

Clumsy fuckin’ bird, Ghost thought angrily as he grunted in pain. Should break your bloody wings.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” You chirped, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. He waited for you to flinch and look away when you saw his mask, but you didn’t. You just shifted your tray of brownies to one hand, the other fluttering uselessly over his soaking wet chest for a few seconds, before you grabbed the hem of your dress in a panic and lifted it up to try and dry him off with it.

Your dress was long, long enough to keep you from flashing him entirely, but he still caught an eyeful of your legs, even a glimpse of your plush thighs. At least until you realized what you were doing and dropped your dress again with a squeak of embarrassment, cheeks reddening.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated earnestly, as Ghost stared down at you in bemusement. It wasn’t often he was shocked by someone’s behavior, but you were just so odd. It was, admittedly, amusing. Watching you squawk and try to smooth your ruffled feathers was like watching someone who’d tried to kill him choke on their own blood. Entertaining. Satisfying. Vaguely erotic.

“Are you okay?” You finally remembered to ask, reaching out to touch him again, as if to check him over. Ghost’s hands shot up, one wrapping around your wrist in a firm grip, the other moving to stop your dessert tray—which was tilting dangerously—from falling. He could feel your pulse thrumming beneath his finger tips, and the warmth of your skin seeped through his glove.

“M’fine,” he said shortly, voice deep and grumbly but not as hostile as usual. Simon’s influence, no doubt. Ghost almost rolled his eyes. His other half always banged on and on about treating ladies with proper respect. Ghost wasn’t particularly interested in sex with other people, preferring to fuck his own fist if the urge grew too great to ignore, but he thought about bending you over right here in this hallway and bullying Simon’s big cock into you, just to spite him.

“Oh! Thank you,” you said with a charming smile, entirely ignorant to the image he’d conjured up of you. One he found himself enjoying more than he’d thought he would. “I really am sorry,” you said for the third time, like a parrot echoing itself. Little bird indeed. “I’m such a klutz. Except for when I’m dancing. Then I’ve got at least a modicum of grace.”

Beneath his mask, Ghost raised a brow. Had he mistakenly given off the impression that he cared?

His silence was pointed, and you flushed deeper. You pushed the tray of brownies towards him, seemingly unphased by the grip he still had on it and your wrist. He let go.

“Go ahead, take it,” you said encouragingly, holding out the treat insistently. “It’s the least I can do to make up for ruining your shirt… I can always make more for Daddy another day.”

Simon’s cock twitched, and this time the dirty thoughts in their head were entirely his. Though Ghost could admit the thought of you calling him Daddy in that sweet little voice of yours, all innocent and sincere, was appealing. Perhaps there was something attractive about fucking another person after all.

“Don’t want any,” Ghost answered after a moment, and your face fell. But instead of taking his words for the dismissal they were, you perked back up and continued talking.

“Do you not like brownies? I can make you something else and come back tomorrow,” you offered, for some unknowable reason. Both Simon and Ghost were astounded the conversation had lasted this long, and worse yet, showed no signs of ending. “I can make lemon bars, white chocolate truffles, pudding, anything you’d like.. But nothing too fancy.” You giggled. No one had ever giggled in Ghost’s presence before. “I’m no professional baker. I just do it when the mood strikes, or when Daddy is craving something sugary. He’s the one who taught me to bake. Oh! Do you have any allergies? Nuts, gluten, anything? I don’t want to poison you…”

And on and on you went, rambling like Ghost was actually listening to you. Except that he was. Perhaps it was cruel curiosity, wanting to see how long you’d carry on making a fool of yourself. Or maybe it was Simon pitying you for the nerves in your voice, not wanting to interrupt you and make you more anxious. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you were showing Ghost more kindness than he had ever received in his life.

Simon had experienced the joys of living, of companionship and love. Ghost had not, though he’d seen it all through their eyes. He hadn’t really thought that he was missing out on anything.

But now, with a lovely little dove like you offering to bake for him—not Simon, but Ghost—he thought he maybe he was, if just a tad. Especially if your pussy tasted as sweet as your baked goods smelled.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic

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starm0onlight · 28 days ago

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Drowned by love🥀

₊˚⊹ ᰔ pairing: Greek gods x fem reader!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ note: i don't know what im doing nor why im doing this but we rock i guess

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warning: English isn't my first language so feel free to correct me!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ content: multi characters x reader, greek gods being... greek gods? there will be more than one part

🪽₊˚⊹ you don't remember how this is happened, everything was so sudden, but all you remember is you waking up in giant forest where trees are everywhere you look.

☀️₊˚⊹ you didn't understand what got you here, first you were at your home and now suddenly you're at some forest in some place..

🏺₊˚⊹ as you stood up you start walking around looking for a way out of this forest, at first you start screaming for help but you give that idea up after a while of screaming and your throat hurting

🪽₊˚⊹ after spending hours of walking you suddenly found a gate, giant gate that look like it belong to royalty, you didn't care that much as you start running towards it, forgetting all about your legs pain of hours of walking.

☀️₊˚⊹ as you reach to it suddenly open by itself reveling a giant palace which quickly mad you jump and gasp, how does this giant palace exist in the middle of no where?

🏺₊˚⊹ you where so shocked that you didn't notice the person who has sneak up behind you.

"well well well, what do we have here, a little mortal?" he says close to your ears which quickly make jump and gasp pulling away from him as you look at him with confusion and little fear.

"what would bring such a mortal like yourself here darling?" said the guy before letting out a little chuckles, he was tall with wings on his head and a hat, as you look up and down at him you notice him wearing what look like old clothes, ancient one. and is that shoes with wings in it?

"i...i don't kno-" before you could answer suddenly you heard a voice coming from behind you, much louder and rougher one

"Hermes, what are you doing, and who is this mortal?" said the voice as it started getting closer, as you turn around you see a man with white hair and beard slowly approaching you. okay that just got even worse now.

"i don't know father, this little mortal just appears here and she looks a little lost" said hermes as he got a little closer to you studying your face as you quickly start stepping away but suddenly hit something behind you, or rather someone.

"what a pretty little mortal like you doing here?" said the voice that comes from behind you softly which quickly makes you jump and turn around to be faced with a tanned man whose hair is as gold as the sunlight with eyes that could literally shine.

what's wrong with men here suddenly appearing out of nowhere from behind you?? is that a kink or something? because you're definitely not interested.

before you can even question anything you heard another voice, great the collection is completed , but this time it seems more like feminine voice, very harsh one indeed.

"zeus!? who is this mortal, and how did she come here??" said the woman harshly as pointed at you like you're some... thing.

"hera, we don't know how this mortal got here, but she seems like she's lost?" said the white haired man as he looked at the woman tiredly.

wait, Hermes? zeus? HERA??? this can't be right.. and don't tell me that the golden hair man is Apollo?? oh she's died for sure.

"lost? on the mountain of Olympus?? just throw her off." said hera as she looked at you with hate and disgust .

wait throw her? OFF OF A FUCKING MOUNTAIN?? i mean she did throw her own son. BUT STILL??

"wow wow... please don't throw me off the mountain, I too dont know how I got here.." you finally said as you try to reason with hera. well , we know how this goes.

"mortal how dare you talk back to me??" said hera with even more hatred and disgust, if eyes could kill, you're a gonner.

luckily zeus steps just in time to stop hera from throwing you off herself "calm down hera, we're not throwing anyone, not yet" well it's zeus..

"so what do we do with her?? keep her?" said hera as she looked at zeus angrily.

"well keeping her doesn't sound so bad, it's been a long time since I've seen mortal so beautiful" said Apollo as he got closer to you studying your face, You don't know if you should be flattered at his compliment or be concerned

"Yea It's been a while since the gods had a mortal servant, a little pet if you will" said hermes with little chuckle as he glare at you.

a pet? for the gods?? getting thrown out of the mountain doesn't sound so bad right now.

"yea turn Olympus into a zoo for mortals!" said hera sarcastically as she looked at Apollo and hermes, definitely not a fan of the idea.

"well, it's better and more entertaining than throwing her off, we could use a mortal in Olympus" said zeus and smirk looking at you.

yep your fate has been sealed. doom.

"well welcome to your new home little mortal, what's your name?" you heard Apollo talking softly to you but you can barely focus with your brain trying to take in all the new information.

you can hear hera yell and zeus ignoring her, but suddenly as your body suddenly remembers it's tiredness you couldn't stand on your feet as you suddenly pass out.

well look like you're in for a long ride.

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menyuui · 1 month ago

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JUST A LITTLE LONGER

༉‧₊˚. synopsis. you and remus break up because neither of you knows how to be honest about their feelings #flops

༉‧₊˚. tags. remus lupin, remus lupin x reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt to comfort, inaccurate hogwarts layouts, ooc maruaders era characters, lowkey rich!remus lupin, headcanoning him as coming from money i dont give a gaf, plot holes asf

༉‧₊˚. notes. this is my first ever fic and also i wrote it at 3 am and it took me 5 hours i literally have not slept so i apologize for inconsistencies and inaccuracies and also my poor unedited grammar and spelling pls forgive me also the ending and kind of the whole this is so rushed sorry i literally wrote this on my phone while bed rotting pls forgive me

REMUS LUPIN, had asked you out in the winter of sixth year, minutes before you boarded separate trains to go home for the holidays. he'd come running down your platform, coat buttoned to the top, hair a mess, juggling three different suitcases, how could you possibly say no to such a display?

to be entirely honest at that point you had been waiting weeks for remus to gain the courage to ask you out and you said 'yes!' faster than you'd like to admit but you'd live the embarrassment a billion times over if it meant you got to end up with remus in the end.

he had spent months courting you, planning dates and activities and introducing you to his tight knit group of friends, not to mention the years he had already spent pining after you (not that he'd ever confess that truth to you). with all the effort he had put in to getting you to date him you're not sure how you ended up here, like this. seventh year had started off so well, fresh off the train after spending the last week of summer at the lupin estate while remus's parents conducted business overseas. it seemed like you two were more in love than ever before, if that was even possible, so why wouldn't remus just tell you he was a werewolf?

it's nearing the end of november and remus and his friends were off on a 4 day "study group field trip", an excursion that they somehow convinced professor mcgonagall to go along with. you knew what that meant though, it meant that the full moon was coming up and remus would be spending the next couple of days in the hospital wing with only the company of madame pompfrey his aching body. last month it had been an impromptu trip to james's childhood home, the month before the four of them had all conveniently caught the flu and could not see you under any circumstances out of fear of spreading their infection. every month before that since you had begun dating was excuse after excuse, and you weren't sure how much more you could take.

you had become privy to remus's secret two months after your relationship began. you were never stupid, far from it, in fact you were always quite perceptive so it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone when you figured out what your boyfriend was trying to hide. it was easy to figure out the remaining players in the game after you uncovered the secret. obviously james, sirius, and peter had known, but it seems along with the three of his closest friends, lily evans was also let in on the confidential matter.

nothing changed for you after you had found out. you loved remus, you still love remus, nothing would ever change that.

so why won't he just be honest with you?

for as long as you could you staved off thinking about it any further than the surface level. you pushed the thoughts and doubts deep inside your mind, never letting yourself steep on it long enough to actually feel bad about it. until now, the christmas holiday was rapidly approaching, just mere weeks away, which also meant that your one year anniversary was just around the corner. your parents had been begging you to bring him home for the holiday, even if just one day could be spared, they just wanted to meet him. all of sudden, all the thoughts you had been avoiding had been pushed to the forefront of your mind.

despite your best efforts, your endless sleepless nights of attempted rationalization, and your undying love for your boyfriend, you could only come up with one answer as to why your boyfriend wouldn't let you in on his inner-inner circle:

he was going to break up with you.

to practical anyone else who knew the two of you, this would never even be thought possible.

but to you? it was the only possible reason.

it all made sense, obviously the marauders would know, they were his lifelong friends, practically his brothers. and of course lily would know, she was james's soulmate. all these people who knew he had let in on his secret were guaranteed to be in his life forever, which could only mean that you weren't.

so that's where you find yourself, on the last day of your boyfriend's montly disappearing act, worn down from the lack of sleep and the excess of worry, dreading the end of your relationship.

if you could have it your way the relationship would never end. you were completely sure that remus lupin was the only man you were ever going to love, but where you saw a future, remus only saw an opportunity to have one last school romance before he got started on his real life.

meanwhile in the hospital wing . . .

"i simply don't understand why you can't just tell her moony?!" sirius was fed up with his friend, the events of the previous full moon fueling his annoyance.

remus rolled his eyes and turned over in the creaky hospital bed, groaning at the added pressure on his bruised ribbed but grateful to be hidden away from sirius's glare.

sirius could just strangle remus right now.

"ughhhh!!! you're so-" remus wasn't looking at him but he knew that sirius was shaking his fists in anger while james and peter looked on amusedly.

james attempted to ease the situation, "alright come off him padfoot, the poor lad's just been through the wringer." his efforts not in vain as sirius mumbled a quick "whatever." before turning away from the trio of his friends.

"he's right though." james added with a tight lip.

this caused remus to roll his eyes once more, "get out." he groaned, clamping his pillow over his ears in frustration.

james lowly chuckled at his distressed friend, while attempting to soothe sirius who had just let out a scoff. peter looked at the pair as if to say 'let me try', before scooting onto the edge of remus's bed.

"remus...as annoying as sirius is," he started, giving sirius a pointed glare, "i think it would help us understand better, if you just told us why you don't want her to know."

when remus remained unmoving and silent under the protection of the pillow over his face, peter shrugged. james and sirius let out a quiet sigh, nearly giving up on an explanation when remus's mumbling cut them off. from beneath his pillow he spoke a brief and muffled statement, unintelligible to even his best friends.

"what?" sirius demanded with a judgemental eyebrow raised.

remus lifted the pillow off his face, tucking it under his head once more. still with his head turned away from the group he sighed deeply, "if i tell her...she's going to leave me."

a silence overtook the quartet. they all knew this had long been remus's greatest fear. flashbacks to nights post-full moons comforting a sobbing and broken remus as he begged for someone to just end the misery that was his existence. he'd long known he was destined for a life alone, bouncing between the couches of his best friends and their future partners and eventual children. this was the way it had to be. until you said yes, your mere presence made remus feel like he was being pulled out of the pits of hell.

but remus wasn't an idiot, he was on the verge of graduating and he had to be honest with his reality. you weren't meant for this life, this darkness, not when you were so kind, so pure. it was never going to last.

"you don't know that remus." peter stated as-a-matter-a-factly. and he meant it too, peter liked you, he really liked you. you had always been nice to him, and funny, and you made a real effort to get along with them, which he knows can be hard. he had faith in you.

remus cut off his mental praise with a cynical laugh, "yes i do."

peter didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to comfort his friend. james thought that he did.

"then she's not the one for you!" james encouraged. it did little to soothe remus's aching heart. somewhere deep inside him remus knew you were, the one for him. he loved you so dearly and he knew you loved him the same, he just couldn't stand the thought of you looking at him differently.

he knew it had to end. but was it so selfish of him to just want a little bit more time with you. seventh year was nearly half way through, remus would let you go after hogwarts, free to live and love like you deserved. he had come to terms with the fact that 10 years down the line when he was long gone that there would be some lucky fella who got you to fall for him bent over a crib carrying a baby with the eyes of the girl he had once loved, so can't he just have you for a little bit longer?

remus had already begun to see the signs. you were pulling away, being more distant. you were never in your dorm, always tucked away in the potions classroom during your free time or checking out books from the restricted section of the library. he knew the end was near.

all of sudden remus had forgotten about the pain of his injuries and could only focus on the pit forming in his chest. he didn't want to talk about this anymore.

his friends had taken note of his sullen face and ceased their talking. he pulled the blanket over his shoulders and tucked his face into the stiff pillow, they got the message.

as they left the room sirius offered a, "we'll check in on you after dinner moony." his promise was left unacknowledged.

three weeks later . . .

less than a month later your worst nightmare came true. six days before holiday break began, six days before your one year anniversary, remus lupin broke up with you.

he had approached you while you were sitting by the great lake, unassuming and oblivious to your impending doom and shattered your entire world without so much as a hint of despair on his beautiful face.

in all your pain and anguish you didn't know what to say, you offered a meek "okay." scared to say more out of fear of bursting into tears.

remus took your lack of words as a clear sign of your impassiveness about the situation. a indicator of your relief to be rid of the burden that was his existence, and he turned away and left you there, sitting on the stont bench, silent tears streaming down your face.

that was five days ago. remus had departed from the school early, to get home to prepare for the arrival of his friends and his next transformation.

you, on the other hand, had retreated to the safety of your dorm room shortly after the incident at the lake and had solemnly left your room since. with practically the entire school soon to be gone home for christmas and a letter sent to your parents explaining that you'd be spending the holiday season at a "friend's" (hiding away in the safety of your bed in the walls of hogwarts) you were looking forward to getting a moment alone.

but then you heard the voices of lily and alice pass by your door, "aren't you just in such despair that your beloved james is going to be away from you for the entire holiday?" alice teased lily who laughed in embarrassment in response.

you suddenly remembered the anniversary slash christmas present you had been preparing for remus for nearly a year.

pratically flying out of bed you dropped to your knees and began digging through the trunk at the foot of your bed. when your eyes locked in on the small and neatly wrapped box at the bottom of the trunk, you hesitated for a moment. pushing down any feelings of doubt and resentment you made your way to the great hall.

you stood outside the great hall, fingers curled around the neatly wrapped gift, your pulse drumming against your ribcage. it felt heavier than it should—more than just paper and ribbon, it held pieces of what could’ve been.

the moment you stepped through the doors, the familiar laughter of james, sirius, and peter met your ears. they were huddled together at their usual spot, carefree as ever. for a brief second, you wondered if remus was already missing them.

james spotted you first, his grin faltering just slightly before he called out, "fancy seeing you here."

sirius turned, one brow arching in curiosity. "i half expected you to hex one of us on sight."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite muster a comeback. instead, you held the small box out towards them. "i—" your throat tightened. "i was hoping one of you could give this to remus."

sirius exchanged a glance with james, his expression unreadable. peter just looked between you all, silent as ever.

james took the box carefully, turning it in his hands. "is this—"

"a gift," you cut in. "it was supposed to be for him before we—well. before everything."

the silence stretched, lingering in the air between you. "you don't have to say it's from me, in fact you probably shouldn't, just say it's from one of you, it doesn't matter to me anyways. just make sure he gets it before christmas." then sirius sighed, shaking his head. "you can pretend it doesn’t matter," he said, his voice softer than you’d expected. "but it does."

you swallowed hard, looking away. "i just want him to have it."

james studied you for a moment before his grin returned—lighter now, but somehow more genuine. "consider it delivered."

relief, bittersweet as it was, spread through you. you met his gaze, offering a small, grateful smile. "thanks, james."

you turned to go, and before you could take a step, sirius called out, "you know, we’re not just his friends."

you glanced back.

"you can talk to us too," he said, a little gentler now. "if you ever want to."

you hesitated before nodding and walking away.

the next day the trio left on the train along with the rest of the school, save for a frw lonely students like yourself, and so began your holiday isolation.

christmas eve day . . .

the fireplace crackled, casting flickering light over the modest living room. outside, a fresh layer of snow blanketed the ground, muffling the sounds of the world beyond the lupins' home.

remus sat cross-legged on the floor, the warmth from the fire settling into his bones. across from him, james wrestled with a particularly stubborn ribbon on a present, while sirius lounged back against the couch, shaking a small box near his ear as if trying to decipher its contents by sound alone. peter had already unwrapped a tin of biscuits and was halfway through his second one.

remus's parents watched them with quiet amusement. hope lupin, ever the gracious host, had insisted on feeding them first, hot cocoa and freshly baked mince pies, before they even touched the presents. lyall, standing near the doorway, looked content just observing, though remus didn't miss the way his father's eyes lingered on him longer than usual, as if already steeling himself for what was to come.

"this one’s yours, moony." james nudged a parcel toward him, his grin wide and eager.

remus hesitated, then peeled the paper back, revealing a thick woolen jumper, the kind you’d expect from an old but loving grandmother, except this one was navy blue with a golden moon stitched into the chest.

sirius leaned over, inspecting it. "practical. warm. a little on the nose, if you ask me."

remus huffed a laugh, running his fingers over the embroidery. "you all planned this, didn’t you?"

peter shoved another biscuit into his mouth and shrugged. "you need it. full moon’s always brutal in winter."

hope’s smile faltered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly, reaching for another gift to pass to james. remy saw the quiet worry in her eyes, no matter how many times they did this, she’d never truly get used to it.

but tonight, for now, they could pretend.

"open mine next," sirius said, tossing a wrapped box at remus. "and don’t be gentle about it."

remus rolled his eyes but did as he was told, tearing through the paper to find—

"merlin," he breathed. "how did you even—"

sirius smirked. "you really think i’d let you go through another transformation without something decent to listen to after? it’s all the best records, charmed to play however you want. figured music would help, even if you’re too out of it to remember much."

remus swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

james, clearly sensing the shift in mood, clapped a hand on remus's shoulder. "we know tomorrow won’t be easy," he said. "but we’re here now. and we’ll be there then too—same as always."

the fire had burned lower now, flickering embers casting shadows along the walls as the night stretched on. gift wrappings lay in scattered piles, forgotten in the excitement of the evening, but remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor. something about nights like these, the quiet and warmth of shared laughter, made the inevitability of tomorrow feel just a little easier to carry.

until james cleared his throat, reaching into the pile of gifts they’d yet to hand out.

"almost forgot," he said, a little too casual, passing a small, carefully wrapped box into remus's hands. "got this for you."

remus blinked down at it, frowning. he hadn’t seen that package among the others earlier, but he tore at the wrapping anyway, uncovering a small glass vial—midnight blue liquid shifting within, thick yet unnervingly smooth.

silence settled over the room.

lyall had gone stiff.

remus stared at the potion, "what is this supposed to—"

"wolfsbane." his father was staring at the potion like it might explode. "where did you get that." lyall muttered, stepping forward, studying the liquid as though willing it to reveal some flaw. "i’ve been trying for years, and every time it’s come with unbearable side effects. this—this isn’t easy to come by, let alone brew properly."

james shifted hesitant for a moment, considering telling the truth, scratching the back of his neck. "oh you know, connections."

remus narrowed his eyes, but sirius kicked at his ankle, distracting him with a smirk. "does it matter? it’s for you. besides what even is it? like some wicked liquor or what?"

lyall shook his head, grabbing the vial and turning it slightly in his palm. "it’s meant to lessen the effects of the transformation. nearly impossible to get right. but this—" he turned the bottle again, watching the way the liquid clung smoothly to the glass. "this is perfect."

sirius opened his mouth, closed it again, then exchanged a glance with james. james stared at the potion, then at remus. then back at the potion.

peter’s eyes widened slightly.

not a single one of them spoke, but the realization settled in like a stone dropped into still water.

but remus didn’t have a clue. neither did his family.

james cleared his throat, easing his grin back into place, as if shaking off the weight of the moment. "well. guess you got lucky, moony. and i totally got jipped, thought i was getting a bargain on some extra concentrated firewhiskey."

remus rolled his eyes, cradling the vial in his palm, looking it over himself now. "yeah. guess so."

hope glanced between them all but didn’t press further.

lyall was still frowning slightly, as if running through the possibilities in his mind.

sirius nudged james sharply. james barely acknowledged it. peter just blinked, staring at the bottle again. the fire crackled, filling the quiet as remus tucked the potion carefully into his pocket, blissfully unaware of the revelation hanging in the air.

outside, the snow continued to fall. inside, the warmth remained, but it carried something heavier now. something unspoken.

the morning after the full moon was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled into the bones of the house. the fire in the hearth had burned low, and upstairs, remus was still resting, recovering.

james, sirius, and peter trudged downstairs, sluggish but grateful for the scent of breakfast wafting through the air. lyall was already at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea, looking like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

sirius was the first to drop into a chair, stretching his arms above his head. "rough night?"

lyall huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "you lot know all too well that every full moon is. hope and i can't tell you how grateful we are for you guys."

james shrugged, remus was their friend, their best friend, taking care of him was a given, no sweat about it. grabbing a piece of toast, chewing absentmindedly he glanced at lyall. "about that potion—the wolfsbane—"

peter, still half-asleep, perked up at the mention of it.

sirius leaned forward. "you said it was nearly impossible to get right. but you've tried?"

lyall exhaled, setting his cup down. "for years," he admitted. "every time i thought i was close, it turned out worse than before. the headaches were unbearable, the nosebleeds frequent. cramps so bad i couldn’t stand some days. seizures." he paused, shaking his head slightly. "it never worked, no matter how many adjustments i made."

peter swallowed hard. "and you had to stop?"

lyall nodded. "for months. sometimes years. the toll it took, for all my love i couldn't continue."

silence fell over the kitchen only the sound of breakfast being cooked could be heard.

james stared at his toast, unmoving. sirius glanced between them all, brows knitting together. peter looked like he wanted to disappear into his seat.

the realization settled in, slow and heavy.

whoever had brewed that potion hadn’t had years to figure it out. they’d done it recently. quickly.

which meant—

sirius sat up straighter, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. james pressed his lips together, tapping his fingers against the table. peter’s expression tightened, eyes flicking toward the staircase, as if looking up toward where remus was still asleep.

you had gone through hell to make that potion.

the three of them sat with the thought, none of them daring to say it aloud.

lyall sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "whatever miracle brewed that vial, i hope it was worth it."

james forced a chuckle. "yeah," he said, voice quieter than usual. "me too." sirius reached for his tea, taking a slow sip, gaze unfocused. peter didn’t say anything at all.

outside, the frost clung to the windows, the world cold and still.

meanwhile at hogwarts . . .

the hospital wing was quiet, save for the soft clinking of vials and the occasional rustle of parchment as madame pomfrey jotted down notes. you sat perched on the edge of a bed, your posture stiff and hands trembling slightly as you clutched the edge of the blanket.

"you should’ve come to me sooner," pomfrey said, her tone stern but not unkind. she set a steaming goblet on the bedside table, the potion within swirling a pale green. "you’ve been pushing yourself far beyond the limits of a witch your age."

you swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. "i needed to finish it."

pomfrey sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. "y/n you’ve been receiving treatment for nearly a year now. headaches, nosebleeds, muscle cramps, they could've seriously harmed you."

you nodded, gaze fixed on the floor. "i—i couldn’t stop. not when i was so close."

pomfrey’s expression softened, though her worry was evident. "but darling the appearance spells? hiding the toll it’s taken on you? on your body?"

you hesitated, thinking about the months of cast appearance spells to hide your frail body littered with signs of wear, then nodded again. "no one could know. it was easier to pretend everything was fine."

pomfrey reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "you’ve done something extraordinary, but at what cost? your body needs time to recover. you can’t keep hiding this."

pomfrey studied your face for a long moment, then sighed again, standing to retrieve another vial from the cabinet. "rest. no more spells, no more pushing yourself. if you don’t take care of yourself now, there won’t be anything left to give."

you nodded, your resolve unwavering despite the exhaustion etched into your features. as pomfrey handed you the next potion, you took it without hesitation, the weight of your choices settling heavily in the quiet room.

you’re halfway through choking down the bitter potion when the door creaks open.

"thought i’d find you here."

the voice is unmistakable: smooth, lazy, edged with something sharp beneath its usual confidence.

sirius.

you freeze, setting the goblet down carefully before looking up. he stands at the entrance, arms crossed, gaze locked on you.

madame pomfrey straightens, clearly unimpressed. "mr. black, if you’re ill, i suggest you come back at a reasonable hour."

he barely acknowledges her, his focus never shifting from you.

"i’m fine," he says, but it’s directed at you, not her.

she lingers, exhaling through her nose. "five minutes. then she needs to rest."

once she disappears into her office, sirius steps forward, hands shoved into his coat pockets.

"so," he says, tilting his head, "you look like shit."

you roll your wyes, leaning back against the pillows. "i’m just...tired."

he scoffs. "right. sure. maybe that'd work on another idiot. try again."

you don’t answer.

sirius exhales sharply, pacing at the foot of your bed. "wolfsbane," he mutters. "you brewed it."

your throat tightens. "you already knew that."

he shakes his head. "we didn’t. not until lyall told us how impossible it is to brew."

the weight of his words settles deep in your chest.

sirius watches you for a long moment before he speaks again. "you’ve been practically killing yourself for nearly a year."

you don’t deny it.

"why did you even do all of that—all of this," he gestures to your ailing body, "if you were just gonna let him dump you in the end?"

you jump on the defensive, "you think i wanted to get dumped?" you quip back, angrily.

"well you didn't try very hard not to." sirius accused with a glare.

"oh fuck off sirius." you scoff.

sirius relents, "why didn't you tell him you knew? why didn't you fight for him?" he asked genuinely.

you hesitate for a moment, why didn't you fight for him? "he didn't want me anymore sirius. i can't fix that."

sirius's face flashed in bewilderment. remus lupin? not wanting you? impossible. before he could oppose you continued, "i wanted to give him the chance to tell me on his own time, like he told you and james and peter and even lily for godsake. i wanted him to come to me when he was ready, i didn't want to confront him with it, like it was some kind of accusation. i wanted him to trust me." your voice broke at the end and sirius immediately felt horrible for even slightly raising his voice at you.

"i thought that if i just gave him time, he would, but where he saw forever with you guys, he just saw for now with me. i figured that's why he never told me, what's the point in going through all the agony for some girl he never planned on keeping around anyways."

sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. how could you be so wrong. he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you till you understood, he wanted to scream in your face that it wasn't true, that your mind was playing tricks on you, planting seeds of doubt about a man who loved you so wholeheartedly that it could kill him, but he didn't. because that wasn't his place, it was remus's.

so instead he grabbed your hand, and sat with you in the silence of the castle for as long as he could before he had to make his was back to his friends.

back at lupin manor . . .

the house is quiet when sirius returns, the cold pressing against his back as he steps through the front door. the fire in the living room crackles softly, illuminating the space with a warm glow.

remus is exactly where he left him, curled up on the couch, blanket draped over his shoulders, looking tired but better than he did last night. his head lifts slightly at the sound of the door closing.

"didn’t think you’d be back so soon," remus murmurs, voice rough with lingering exhaustion.

sirius lets out a short laugh, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "yeah, well. didn’t feel like dragging it out."

remus shifts, turning his full attention toward him now. "how was hogsmeade?"

sirius scoffs, pulling off his coat and tossing it onto the armchair. "didn’t go."

remus frowns slightly. "thought you said you had a date."

sirius hesitates for a fraction of a second, then shrugs, like it’s nothing. "went to hogwarts instead."

remus’s brows knit together. "why?"

sirius exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before moving toward the couch, dropping onto the seat opposite remus. "to see y/n."

remus blinks, surprised. "she didn't go home for the holiday?"

sirius shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "nope. found her in the hospital wing."

remus sits up a little straighter, something unreadable flickering in his expression. "what happened?"

sirius studies him for a long moment before speaking. "she’s been getting treated for almost a year."

remus’s lips part slightly, confusion settling in, in the year that they had dated remus never noticed her even looking vaguely ill let alone getting treated for something. "treated for what?"

sirius sighs, his voice quieter now. "the wolfsbane."

realization dawns slowly over remus’s face, his grip tightening on the blanket draped over his shoulders.

sirius continues, pomfrey said she’s been coming in with all kinds of shit. headaches, nosebleeds, muscle cramps. even seizures."

remus’s throat works, eyes darkening. "she knows?"

sirius watches him carefully. “she's known moony, since nearly the beginning. she did it for you.”

remus exhales sharply, looking away, staring into the fire. "that doesn't make any sense, there's no way she knew and she stayed with me."

sirius can't help but roll his eyes at his stubborn friend, "is that actually true or did you just make yourself believe that? i mean did she actually ever say anything indicative of her being this horrible twisted person you've made her out to be?"

remus is silent.

"you don't get it moony. it's not her. it's me. i'm the dark and twisted one, she doesn't want this sirius. she doesn't deserve this." remus cried out.

sirius was in despair over his friend's anguish, he looked around desperately for something, anything to prove that what he was saying was true, his eyes landed on the vial. he grabbed it, harshly shoving it in remus's shaking hands, "she does want it. and that right there is hard evidence. it works doesn't it? we all know it did, you've never been able to stand the day after a full-moon before let alone walk down the stairs by yourself." he rips the blanket of remus's lap, "she did that for you, without being asked, without being rewarded, and the expense of her own health."

remus looks down at his body, he's felt it all morning, the lessened ache of his bones and the surprising lack of deep cuts in his skin.

"you have got to stop this moony, this wallowing this–this hatred. it's going to kill you. she doesn't deserve this? well neither do you."

outside, the wind howls softly against the windows. inside, something unspoken lingers in the spaces between words, settling deep in the quiet.

one week later . . .

the black lake is still, the surface glass-like under the dull winter sky. the cold bites at your skin, but you don’t move, not yet. you just sit there, staring out at the water, letting the silence stretch.

you hear his footsteps before you hear his voice. the scene is all tok familiar.

“you look well.”

you tense, fingers curling slightly in the fabric of your cloak.

“so do you,” you reply, voice even, measured. you don’t turn to face him. instead, you push yourself to stand, brushing off your robes, ready to leave.

“i got it wrong.” his voice is wavering.

you pause mid-step. slowly, you turn your head just enough to glance at him. remus looks tired. not in the way he did after his monthly ritual, not just physically, but something else lingers in his expression. something heavier.

you don’t ask.

you grip the edges of your cloak tighter, keeping your face unreadable. “about what?”

he exhales, shaking his head slightly, like he’s still sorting through the thoughts tangled up inside him. “about you,” he says. “about—about what you were trying to do.”

you shift, drawing your arms closer to yourself, bracing against the cold.

remus steps forward, just barely, his breath visible in the air between you.

“i didn’t see it,” he admits, his voice low. “not until sirius told me.” he looks at you then, steady and unguarded. “i got it wrong,” he repeats, softer this time.

the words settle between you, raw and honest. you don’t move for a long moment, your pulse drumming against your ribs, your breath short against the crisp air.

then, finally, you speak. "i don't know what you want me to say remus."

"just listen?" he offers.

you don't move, you still don't look at him. he takes it as indication to continue, "i’ve loved you for so long. longer than i even knew what love meant, longer than i ever thought i deserved to feel it. and for so much of that time, i did nothing about it. not because i didn’t want to, but because i didn’t know how much time i had." your face flashes in concern at this.

"with everything i am, this condition, this mind that turns against itself more often than not, i didn’t know how long i was going to last. i didn’t let myself imagine a future, because what would be the point? then seventh year came, and suddenly there was a deadline. graduation. the end of everything familiar. and i figured, why not, right? why not make the most of the time i had left with you? i love you so much, and i wanted to tell you. i wanted to tell you my secret so badly, but you are so pure, so kind, so good, and i was afraid. afraid that if i told you, you’d see me differently. you’d see the monster in me, you'd see what i see in myself, and you would leave. and i know that was selfish—i know. but i just wanted more time. i just wanted a little longer with you before you had to go." tears are streaming down his face at this point, down yours too, you can't bear to look at him, you remaining resolve would crumble, you know it.

"then you started to pull away after november, and i couldn’t–i couldn’t watch you leave. i wouldn’t have survived it. so i had to do it first. i had to hurt you before you could hurt me. because if i broke you, at least i’d know the ending was mine." he stopped, you didn't move, you didn't say anything.

"y/n please. i'm sorry." more silence. and then,

"i'm going to be late for class." and with that you walked off, leaving remus standing there under the cover of a wilted tree, next to the stone bench he had abandoned you on just a few weeks ago.

. . .

two days. it had been two days since remus's display at the lake and he had been moping ever since, much to his roommates dismays.

no one had seen or heard from you since then either. you weren't in your room when james had sent lily to check and you weren't in the hospital wing when sirius had gone to check, and it had remus in absolute shambles.

"she hates me. she hates me so much she transferred schools." he's face down in his pillow, his body limp against the mattress as he groans out his words.

peter scrunches his eyebrows, "we graduate in five months?"

still muffled by his pillow remus replies, "yeah so she must really hate me."

"oh come on you ole sap. don't tell me you're giving up so easily." sirius barked from across the room, peaking his head out from his post-shower routine.

"no i am. i'm giving up. the love of my life hates me and now i'm going to die." remus flips over onto his back and states plainly.

sirius frowns, "what did i say about all this self-anguish bull?"

"i'm only joking mom. kind of." remus replies sarcastically.

he's happy to have his friends in his time of despair, their senseless bickering and blind encouragement gives him hope in his dark and stormy time.

that is until a knock at their dormitory door causes them to all freeze. the four of them look between each other, confused. lily was still in class and sirius's various flings know better than to show up here, so who was at the door?

peter makes the first move, towards the door, hand slowly turning the handle. as the heavy wooden door swings open it reveals, you.

sirius let's out a dramatic gasp and remus nearly burns holes into his head, if only his gaze wasn't so locked in on you.

you brush past peter and make a bee line for where remus is now sat up on the edge of his bed. he holds his breath as you approach him, expecting you to slap him clean across the face.

but you don't, instead, you stop just mere inches in front of him with your hand outstretched.

"my name is y/n y/l/n. i'm a seventh year y/h/n and i'm incredibly talented in potion making." you state.

everyone is confused. remus is confused, but mostly remus is grateful you're even speaking to him. he's frozen in place and when you don't see him moving you shake your outstretched hand and raise your eyebrows.

in a moment of rare intellect from the idiotic boy he snaps back into reality, firm grasping your hand for a shake.

"remus. lupin. seventh year, gryffindor." he finishes, still grasping your hand. you raise your eyebrows again, he tilts his head like a lost and confused puppy.

you decide to throw him a bone and prompt him, "and...?"

it all clicks for him, he knows what you want.

"and i'm a werewolf."

you smile, he smiles.

you turn over the hand of his that has a firm grip on you and apparate a pen into your hand. opening his palm you bend over and write down a number on his open hand.

(+** - *** - ******)

and then you turn to leave, but not before throwing a quick "call me." over your shoulder.

as soon as peter closes the door behind you remus jump up out of his bed. he's pumping his fists in the air while sirius and peter cheer him on.

from his bed, james pipes up, "call me? we're wizards? who the bloody hell is using a mobile phone?"

he's promptly hit square in the face by remus's pillow, knocking the glasses frames clean off his face, "shut up prongs." and peter pats him on the back.

he's absolutely elated. as he falls asleep that night he thanks every single higher being out there for allowing him back into your life. he promises to never grimace at his dad's bad jokes, or make fun of sirius's gala outfits ever again, he swears on everything he has that he will never do another remotely unkind thing again for the rest of his life as long as you are in it.

he knows the two of you have a lot to talk about, and he knows he has a lot to work on himself, but for tonight, he's just happy you gave him a second chance.

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #marauders #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #lily evans

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

Text

Choose One (Chapter 2) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Explicit Sex, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Angst. Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"See-line woman (see-line)

Dressed in green (see-line)

Wears silk stockings (see-line)

With golden seams (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

Bodies jammed to music next to other bodies crammed inside Bernice's tiny third-floor apartment. A phonograph played the hot jazz they liked and shiny Black faces shimmied and shook the floor down. Max manned the drink table with his girl, and Bernice collected money at the door.

Lena clutched Stack's hand, and he grinned from east to west entering the raucous rent party. Two seconds after tossing five dollars into Bernice's finest church hat, he entwined his fingers with hers and joined the sweaty dancers cutting the rug.

Oh, he could dance!

Lena squealed as he spun her around. She wiggled her hips, stomped her feet, and threw her arms in the air. Her friends, neighbors, and co-workers eyed him up and down as he swiveled his hips and thrust against her. Later, they shared some cheap reefer and glasses of terrible hooch, then bought plates of fried chicken wings, pickled pig's feet, and potato salad.

Bernice threw an old scratchy Charley Patton record on, and Stack squeezed his eyes shut. He threw one hand up and moaned, "Ohhhhh, shit! Some down home blues!"

He ground his hips against Lena, and she matched his seductive ways with a steamy, slow drag. His hands wandered up and down her back, but once it headed further south and palmed her ass cheeks, they had to leave.

"Follow me," she whispered in his ear.

She led him out of Bernice's place and guided him down a flight of creaky stairs to her smaller kitchenette apartment. She stopped at the shared bathroom on her floor.

"If you need to go, there it is," she said.

Inebriated, he could still tell her living conditions weren't great. He took a quick piss, and she waited for him outside the door. Despite the substandard housing, Lena liked the people who lived in her building.

Stack flicked water from his hands after washing them and trailed behind Lena to her place.

"It's not much, but it's home," she said.

They kissed in the doorway until she felt his dick poking through his pants. His eyes were glassy while peering at her, and she chewed on her bottom lip, studying his expression.

"What do you like about me?" she asked.

"Everything," he said.

"Be specific."

"I like your beauty…your hair…the way you look at me all night. I like the way you smile…dance…everything. Is that satisfactory for ya, or should I keep going?"

"Keep going."

"I like the way your lips feel pressed against mine. I like how you feel against me, all soft and warm and made for me…"

His lips danced along her neck, and he sucked the skin on her collarbone.

"Make love to me, Stack."

"I will."

He lifted her into the apartment and kicked the door closed. Her place only had two rooms, so he went to where the small bed was.

He kissed her clothes off her body. When she was completely nude, he memorized every inch of her, even the twisty strands of her midnight black spiral curls that everyone always admired and women copied.

"I'll be right back. Gonna wash up first," he said.

"Okay. I'll get you some soap and things."

She gathered up a clean towel, a bar of soap, and a brand new pink wash rag.

He left her apartment and padded down the hall to the shared bathroom. She went into her kitchenette and used the sink with another wash rag to clean herself. Drinking a glass of water, she rinsed out her mouth and waited for him.

While she reclined on her soft bed, he returned with only the towel wrapped around his waist. He carried his shoes, garments, and underwear in his hand. Tossing them on a dresser in the room, he climbed onto the bed next to her.

"I have rubbers," he whispered.

He held out a square tin box in his hand that housed condoms.

"Good."

It didn't matter. Lena couldn't have human children, anyway.

Stack reached for her, and she hugged him tight, sharing her lips with his. She carefully kissed his forehead and eyelids, and puckered both his cute cheeks and groomed chin, leaving lipstick smudges. Lena kissed him long enough until her lips were swollen and tingled. He chuckled softly against her mouth and the warm breath added another rich sensation.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I'm usually knee deep in pussy 'bout to bust by this point."

"Is that what your other women like? Fast sex?"

He leaned back on her pillow and she cuddled on his wide chest, tracing her index finger on his soft chest hairs. His fat dick rested on her thigh, leaking teardrops of pre-cum. He cupped one of her upturned breasts and admired the pert cocoa brown nipples ready for his lips.

"It's not always fast, but I'm usually on the go…working all hours…traveling for the boss. Things get tense. Got no time to waste."

"Seems like the stresses would make you take your time and enjoy yourself. Sounds like you're spent before you even get your trousers off, Mr. Moore."

"Stack."

"Stack…"

She poked the tip of his nose playfully.

"Let me show you how to do it right," she said.

"Hold on."

He opened a condom and rolled it down on his erection.

Lena climbed on top of him and slid down his length, letting his penis stay warm inside of her without moving her hips. She lowered her face to his and kissed him softly, enjoying the languid time she spent just exploring and loving his mouth. His breath shuddered against her lips as he rested his hands on her hips.

She used her teeth to snag his bottom lip and bit it playfully, clenching her vaginal walls to squeeze his heavy dick twice.

"Fuck…!" he gasped.

She still didn't rock or bounce on him, simply allowed her natural lubrication to coat the rubber with a gradual slippery ease. The cock warming worked on him. He stayed focused on her eyes. His lips parted, and he panted her name.

"Lena…Lena…Lena…shit…Lena…"

"You feel so good inside my pussy, Stack. I'm so full of you…"

She slipped her tongue between his lips and their tongues tussled and twisted with groans spilling out. His skin felt like fire and she matched his temperature. She squeezed that big dick again and his eyes widened with the pleasure.

Lena started bouncing then, and he helped give her more girth by thrusting up. His fingers sank into the soft flesh of her backside and her bed suffered the strain of their weight humping each other.

He played with her breasts, licked and sucked her nipples tenderly, letting their passion rise to a scorching level. She slammed her ass on him and his body handled the loud smacking of their erratic friction. His eyes narrowed, and she brought him to the place she needed him to be.

"Show me why they call you Big Stack," she cried out.

The energy in the bedroom shifted and Stack flipped her over and rutted inside of her like a man with a serious mission. She yelped in surprise at the ferocity. He grunted with the exertion of stretching her walls to kingdom come…and then some.

Clawing his back, she stared up at the paint peeling on the ceiling and understood completely why the women flocked to his dick. He pumped in and out like a locomotive trying to reach the other side of a tunnel. The curve of his dick tugged on her clit and kept her in a maddening state of almost cumming, but not quite. It made her wetter, and she started crying because it felt too good to be true.

"Fuck me, Stack…oh…Big Stack…baby…!"

She thrashed under him and he pushed her legs up to her ears and fucked the sin outta her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she waited for the bed to crash down to the first floor. Glancing at the wall, the distance had changed. They'd fucked the bed a good seven inches from where it originally sat.

She jammed her cheek against his and hooked her legs over his hips. Her body writhed, keeping pace with his thrusts.

"Fuck… baby…fuck…oh…fuck that dick…fuck me…Lena! Lena!"

"Yes Daddy," she huffed in his ear, "Give it to me…I wanna feel it deep!"

He hunched over her and his body weight pushed her deep into the mattress. His release roared out of his throat, almost scaring her.

He collapsed on top of her, and she stroked the back of his neck.

"What did you do to me?" he gasped.

He rolled over and pulled her on top of him. She peppered his face with tiny kisses, and then jumped off the bed, grabbing her robe off the hook of the bedroom door.

"I'll go pee…wash up… and then we can do it again," she said.

Stack peeled off the condom.

"I'll be ready when you come back."

"You better. That was just the appetizer," she said.

"My God," he yelped.

She dashed out of the apartment and headed to the shared bathroom.

Lena and Stack kept their connection lowkey.

Very private.

A week after they started sleeping together, he moved her from the shabby apartment and paid to keep her in a luxury one inside a newer building with a doorman. She no longer had to share a bathroom and delighted in coming home to a hot bath inside her own space. He spoiled her with new clothes, jewelry, and fancy perfumes. If he couldn't see her, he'd send an errand boy to bring her the roasted peanuts she loved with some flowers. Just to let her know he was thinking of her above all his other paramours. At work, they pretended to be platonic acquaintances even though Max and Bernice knew better from the rent party.

None of the material gifts mattered to her. She only wanted his company and lovemaking.

However, she was greedy.

Lena turned her eyes on Smoke.

Out of the two brothers, Smoke was the more subdued and introverted. Women desired him as much as Stack and took great pains to catch his attention, but the man seemed to be in an insular world of his own. Contemplative. Not overly friendly. One who moved in shadows. He was pleasant with the Sunset staff and stuck close to Ernie as one of his lieutenants, like Stack.

When she knew Stack had to travel to Detroit, it surprised her that Smoke didn't go with him. They ran together on most syndicate runs as Ernie's reps, and this trip shouldn't have been the exception. Yet she stood behind the bar counter working and watching Smoke run the club and the streets while Ernie and Stack were away.

He ran a tight ship.

Lena liked that.

He exuded a quiet power that permeated the club. If Stack acted like a red rooster, strutting around and crowing orders to the staff, Smoke was the hawk watching far above, ready to swoop in with talons raised like a silent assassin.

A big band played to a packed crowd and Smoke perched himself at Ernie's table like a king observing his subjects, keeping them in line. She mixed him a Cohasset Punch because he liked dark rum, and walked it over to his table.

"You always seem to know when I need a drink," he said.

She set the glass down in front of him. Tried to think of a way to engage him without being a nuisance. Caroline, the server in that section of the club, bumped into her on purpose.

"I know what you're trying to do," Caroline hissed.

Lena stepped away from Smoke's table.

Caroline followed her.

"What are you talking about?" Lena said.

"You tried getting Stack, and that didn't work. Now you're going for Smoke. Stop flirting. He's off limits."

"Says who?"

Caroline put a hand on her hip. Her svelte physique was better suited to be a dancer instead of a server. She had the fair skin and keen features to be the next Fredi Washington.

"Stay away from him if you know what's good for you."

She jabbed her finger just under Lena's throat. Lena grabbed her finger and twisted it.

"Is there a problem, ladies?"

Smoke approached them with a neutral expression. Lena yanked her hand back from touching Caroline.

"No, sir," Caroline said with a slight grimace from the pain.

"We like to keep our reputation as a classy establishment. Can't have the staff bickering in front of customers. What's the issue?"

"Nothing, Mr. Moore. Just a misunderstanding," Lena said sweetly.

Lena tried to give him an openly carnal stare. He ignored it.

"Back to work then," he said, pivoting to his seat.

Caroline glared at Lena and quickly stomped off to see about a guest.

Lena had to figure out a way to attract him. Being pretty and using lethal stare-downs didn't work on him. He didn't chase tail. All kinds of pussy surrounded him and she never witnessed him taking advantage of it like his brother did.

All night, she plotted how to catch him. Because he had to run the club, he'd be there all week from opening until closing each night.

Two days passed. She tried everything from chatting him up to changing her hairstyle to see if he noticed.

Nothing.

There had to be a way to capture his attention.

He loved the big bands. Loved the dancing of the chorus girls and the patrons on the dance floor. He especially loved the vocalists who enchanted their audiences. She watched him get lost in the music, sometimes closing his eyes and tapping his fingers on the table.

On an especially busy night with a young horn player from New Orleans enthralling the club with an improvised solo, Lena watched Smoke struggle to roll his favorite tobacco. Taking a break from her job, she wandered over to him and helped roll the cigarette. Without saying a word, she handed it to him and even lit it with his gold lighter. He took a puff, blew out a stream of smoke, and eyed her.

"Thanks," he said.

She left him alone and twenty minutes later, before he could summon Caroline, Lena had a fresh drink ready for him at his table.

Snooping among her co-workers, she found out what brand of tobacco he liked and pre-rolled a few for him in her apartment. She left them in a silver cigarette holder with his first drink of the evening the next day.

It aggravated Caroline.

The other female servers, too.

The Smoke Stack twins had the raw animal magnetism that dampened panties and inflamed hearts. They were dangerous in the forbidden bad-boy way that made being around gangsters titillating. All the square broads and loose women preened in front of the brothers with their tongues damn near hanging out of their mouths like stray alley cats in heat.

Smoke became dependent on her for his comfort at work. He didn't want anyone else making his drinks or serving it to him…not even his meals there. The head chef told her that Smoke requested for her to bring his evening meal, not the regular servers on duty. She did so and Smoke stayed his normal, subdued self.

Except…

He started looking at her.

She'd wipe down the counter, retrieve bottles, joke with Max and Frank, serve guests with the charm and professionalism that garnered her a sterling reputation, and now and then, she'd feel eyes on her. When she glanced his way, he'd turn his head in another direction.

It surprised her to see him approach the counter and check in with the bar staff. He still said very little to her unless it was complimenting her hard work.

It clicked in her head to disappear.

Call in sick.

Smoke believed in order and things running smooth on his watch. If she threw a wrench into that comfort…

She called Max and told him she was down with the flu. Would be out for three days. She sat in her apartment listening to old blues records Stack liked and played with new styles for her hair. Ate candy. Cooked greasy foods. Napped for hours.

On her second afternoon playing sick, someone slipped a black envelope with a gold wax seal under her apartment door.

Lena used a letter opener to slice under the seal of an hourglass embedded in the wax. Inside the letter was plain white cardstock with a name written on it in gold embossed script. She memorized it, then placed the envelope and card on the floor, where it burst into flames. It withered away until there was only a whiff of smoke left. Sighing, she opened her bedroom window and quickly undressed.

Lying on her bed, she waited quietly for her transformation.

It always started as an intense heat in her toes that worked up to her midsection before painfully engulfing the rest of her. Her physical form liquefied into a gooey mass of black matter on the bed as her consciousness hovered above it, waiting to re-connect.

The essence of her floated down into the corporal form of a large crow.

She hopped off the bed and made her way to the window, perching on the sill. Leaping out, she spread her wings and soared above the tree near her apartment, and used a warm draft to carry her to the person she needed to see.

An elderly Black man sat on a park bench dressed in a smart blue suit holding a bag of breadcrumbs. He fed some pigeons vying for his generous offerings near his well-worn shoes.

Lena dropped next to him and the man glanced at her.

"You want some too, big fella?" the man said.

He sprinkled a small amount of crumbs for her on the bench, and she accepted a few to be polite. She cawed loudly and all the pigeons flew away. She needed his undivided attention.

"That wasn't real nice fella, those other birds weren't bothering you…oh," he said.

He gazed into her left eye, finally noticing the iridescent color.

"Oh," he said again, clutching his arm.

His breathing became haggard, and he grimaced before relaxing.

"I guess it's my time," he whispered to her.

Death came then.

She walked down a path unseen by other humans in the park. Mothers pushed baby prams, children ran around with nannies in tow, and young couples in love strolled in the sunshine holding hands.

Death wore a long sable veil that covered her entire body and trailed behind her into eternity. Underneath the covering, her obsidian skin shined brightly in an ethereal light, creating a tangible warmth that was as comforting as the womb the old man floated in when he was a baby. Back then, Death came to him as Life, coaxing him into the world. She was the first to hear him take his first breath as an infant beyond the veil. Now she had returned for his homegoing journey.

"Do not be afraid," Death said, reaching for him.

Unshed tears shined in his eyes.

"I'll try not to be."

"Thank you for finding him, Lena," Death said. "You may go now until I need you again."

Lena flapped her wings twice and leapt into the air. Looking down, she watched Death pull back her veil and envelop the old man in a loving embrace.

They vanished.

The bench held only the empty vessel that had once been Mr. Parnell Thomas James. Seventy-five years of age. He left behind a wife, four adult children, and five grandchildren. One day Lena would have to visit them, too.

But only when Death called for her.

Chapter 3 HERE.

Taglist:

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#sinners movie #sinners 2025 #sinners #smoke and stack #Smoke Stack Twins #Uzumaki Rebellion #sinners fanfiction

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bueckersbitch · 4 months ago

Text

Grace and Grit - paige bueckers x oc

chapter four: so high school

𐙚 grace and grit masterlist

𐙚 characters: hopkins!paige x oc

𐙚 warnings: none!

𐙚 word count: 2.4k

𐙚 authors note: here it is!! long awaited and i’m so sorry i haven’t put out a new chapter, life caught up to me unfortunately. anyway in this au larkin dance studio is in hopkins and jalen goes to school with paige. this is all fiction!!! enjoy <3

𐙚 taglist: @rosemariiaa @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @bueckersfive @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt

The consistent hum of Blaire’s alarm woke her from dreamland. Her last first day. One more year, then she wouldn’t have to step foot in her confining high school ever again.

Blaire brings her hands up to rub her eyes, trying to exude sleep from herself. After failed attempts to wake her up, defeated, Blaire gets up slowly, trudging her way over to her vanity. Sitting down in the pink padded chair. Her seventeen years of dance experience had trained her makeup skills, the requirement of knowing how to do a full face in less than ten minutes was something she had to learn how to do on her own. While her dance friends sat restless in front of their moms at the ripe age of eight, getting their makeup done and being gushed over, Blaire simply watched, longed, and yearned for that experience that was stripped away from her. But she was never one to complain, so she did it on her own, learning how to contour, winged eyeliner, and apply false lashes all by the time she was nine.

Blaire turned her vanity mirror light on, the soft white illuminating her puffy face. She reached for her skincare, the coolness of the serums and moisturizers working to depuff her face. Swiping on some concealer, bronzer, blush, and mascara, was all Blaire could bring herself to do. Shoving herself up from her vanity, she goes to brush her teeth, breakfast in the morning makes her sick. The fresh mint hit her teeth, a slow moment finally found after a rushed morning, but when her mind slowed, she could only think of one thing, well, one person, Paige.

She recalled that night in the ice cream shop, a small gesture, sure. But Blaire had never experienced someone so interested in her before. Everything was perfect, like everything Blaire had been waiting for in a girlfriend was presented to her in a beautiful, bubbly, blonde, package. Blaire tried to focus on the task at hand, she really did. But something about the thought of the way Paige’s eyes scrunched up when she smiled, and the way her cheeks showed a tinge of pink whenever she looked at Blaire, was enough for Blaire to lose track of time. Glancing at the clock, Blaire was now off schedule, running late by three minutes. She quickly spits into the sink, swishing mouthwash into her mouth before expelling that from her mouth as well.

Blaire stumbles on her rug, grabbing onto the door frame as she drives herself into her closet. Regaining her balance, she flicks the light on. Pink bow wallpaper adorns the four walls. She reaches for the outfit she had picked out last night, black flare leggings, a white tank top, a light grey shrug, and a black headband. Boring, maybe, but Blaire couldn’t really care less what people thought of her outfit.

Blaire slid on her shrug, the last piece of her outfit. Realizing she had a bit of down time before she had to leave, she wonders if she should peek at Paige’s socials, something she had been doing a bit too much recently. It’s almost as if her fingers have a mind of their own, skidding across the screen to pull up Paige’s profile before she could even finish her thought.

She studied her profile. In a way, it almost exactly mirrored Blaire’s. A different sport, of course. But the posts wishing her friends happy birthday, photos from past state championships, the trophy being held up to the sky, ones where her and her teammates are biting their medals. Blaire knew the feeling all too well. It was just an instagram profile, but the memories of Paige’s time in high school flood her phone. It was sweet, the way she looked so intimidating on the court, her taunts cracking the confidence of her opponents, all for her to really just be a normal girl going through high school.

—

It was the end of fifth period now, Blaire’s AP Chemistry class ending with her teacher wishing them a good rest of their first day. It was lunch period now, all of Blaire’s friends either had schedules that let them out early, or a different lunch period. Blaire scratched her scalp, a consistent throbbing settling into the rear of her head. Continual reviews of class syllabi meant her teachers repeating the same rules like a mantra, late work policies, honor code, extra credit assignments, and test outlines were all things Blaire had grown bored of. Sighing, she hops down from the stool, picking up her Larkin Dance Studio backpack, the thread at the straps fraying from being her companion the last three years. Blaire stilled, the air around her restricting her, but also allowing her a chance to breathe. She moves one ugg clad foot in front of the other, making her way to the door, annunciating a quick “Have a good day Mr. Stone.” with a smile, pushing the door handle and stepping out into the hallway.

It was overwhelming, really. Looking out into the hallway. Blaire had navigated these hallways more times than she could count, but something about the masses of people bumping into each other, clueless as to where they were going, hurdled her anxiety into overdrive. All she needed to do was walk herself to her car, where she would eat her lunch, after, she had two more periods. Almost to the finish line, the wiring of school could be erased from her mind when she stepped back into her studio, being able to regain her consciousness.

Blaire gripped her phone in her hands tightly, her earbuds in her ears as an attempt to drown out the surrounding noise. It was no use though, the shrieking of high pitched voices cut through her soft music like nails on a chalkboard. In the midst of all the chaos, Blaire swears she hears her name called out. Glancing around, she’s met with nothing but bodies of teenagers. Brushing it off, Blaire keeps moving, shuffling slowly towards the doors that lead out to the parking lot.

Blaire feels a tug at her shoulder, yanking her earbuds out from her ears, turning to see what the fuss was about. Instead, she’s met with the smile and scrunched eyes she had been musing about in the earliest hours of the day. Paige and Blaire’s schedules had matched up for one period so far, study hall. Now, it seems that they had lunch together too.”Blaire! Who are you sitting with at lunch?” A curious Paige asked, Jalen poking her arm, ushering her towards a clear path to the doors. “I was just planning on sitting in my car, all my friends have different lunches.” Blaire responded with. Before she could register what was happening, she felt the comforting warmth of Paige’s fingers wrapping around hers, subtly dragging her along with herself and Jalen, while saying, “S’You’re sitting with us in my car now.” Blaire couldn’t help the soft smile that wound up on her face, her cheeks heating up at the kind gesture by the girl, something that hadn’t happened since their study hall during third period.

The three of them walked together to Paige’s car, Jalen walking backwards in front of them to talk to the two girls. “Soooooo… You’re Blaire, right?” He started. Paige groaned, trying to shut him down with a, “Jalen, bro.” while her hand ran over her face. Blaire observed the two, she knew what it meant, Jalen, Paige’s best friend, knowing who she was. Blaire pushed the thoughts of her heart gushing to the back of her mind, trying to focus on not messing up first impressions.

“The one and only, and you’re Jalen?” Paige’s eyes peek from in between her fingers, widened at the fact Blaire wasn’t weirded out by the prodding. Blaire wasn’t weirded out, in fact, she was overjoyed by the fact she seemed important enough to Paige to be mentioned to her closest friend. The boy smiles, his hands in his pockets, “Sure am, hear you’re a dancer. You tryna do that in college?” Blaire nods, “God Willing, something about Juilliard is calling me, but it’s nice to know I have U of Minny and Ohio State as cushion if that plan falls through.” Jalen’s mouth drops open at that, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Damn, so you’re like, good good, then?” Paige smiles, wrapping an arm around Blaire, patting her head with the other, “Hey! I told you she was good. You doubting me is disrespectful.” The blonde says. Blaire shrugs, slightly surprised by the fact Jalen even knows how major of a deal both colleges are. “You could say that. How do you know about dance anyway?” Jalen responds without a beat, “I got sisters, they don’t dance but they like watching uda nationals.” Blaire smiles, it seemed being welcoming was something prominent found in Paige’s friends too.

As they got to Paige’s car, Jalen started to swing around to the passenger side, a routine perfected since Paige got her license. He whips his head around though, the blonde pointing at him saying, “Jalen, you’re sitting in the back.” Jalen’s face showed confusion, Blaire didn’t want to intrude, so she tugs at Paige’s shirt, “Hey, I can sit in the back, it’s okay.” She assured. Paige let out a laugh at that, an obvious fake one, “collecting” herself, she turns to Blaire, telling her, “You gotta be crazy, what kinda host would I be if I didn’t let you sit in the passenger seat?” Blaire scoffs, but under the front she put up, she liked the fact Paige was so persistent with her, really liked it. “Host? It’s your car.” Blaire said with a playful attitude. Paige cocks her head, “Whatever.” She says to the dark haired girl.

“Ooo, P’s got a crushhhh.” Jalen gets out, the two girls' eyes break away from each other, pulling to look at the boy waiting outside the back car door. “Seriously, stop.” Paige says, annoyed.

–

The loudspeaker starts up, it was eighth period, Paige sat clad in her Nike shirt and basketball shorts, Playing with the loose string that had managed to unravel from the hem of her shirt. Her calculus teacher was cut off by the announcement, “Good Afternoon Royals! I am overjoyed to welcome you all back to campus!...” Paige tuned out the voice of her principal, opting to look around at her classmates around her, all working on the pre-assessment for the class. Her eyes are drawn to the bulletin board, full of clubs and different volunteer opportunities. But one poster stands out, a specific dark haired girl that had been consuming her thoughts. Her teeth in a smile as the words around her talked about a dance gala, auctions being held at it to raise money for cancer research. Paige took a mental note of it, being snapped back to reality when she heard the euphony of backpack zippers, “Just like always, seniors will be dismissed first, if you’re a senior, you may make your way over to your car now!” Paige closed her eyes for a moment, the stress easing away from her as realization dawned upon her. She made it through the first day.

Pulling out her phone, she makes a new group chat with Blaire and Jalen, shooting a text about grabbing food at Panda Express, the Chinese food sounding awfully good to soothe the hunger that had settled into her stomach, she didn’t eat during her lunch period, wanting to talk Blaire’s ear off as much as possible in the allotted time.

–

Paige rushes towards the door, wanting to reach it before Blaire, stumbling over her excited feet, she yanks the door open, flashing a smile and wiggling her eyebrows at Blaire.

Jalen had gotten roped into helping his parents with stuff at home, but the two girls decided to grab food before Blaire’s practice anyway, the two of them both agreeing that Panda Express sounded too good to pass up.

Paige watches Blaire order, a simple bowl of white rice with some honey sesame chicken, and while she trains her ears on what Blaire was ordering, she couldn’t help but notice the small details about the girl beside her. How her nose moved slightly while she talked, her hands picking at the nail polish that slightly flooded over the sides, her legs crossed, and her eyes squinting to see the menu a little better. The truth is, Paige hadn’t felt this in a long time, her last relationship had lasted a while, but honestly the two of them had been done for a while, just not having the guts to call it quits, Paige was dragged through an emotional rollercoaster, but the familiarity of it comforted her enough to get her to stay. That was over now though, Paige felt grateful that it was, because the girl in front of her was so intriguing to her, she hadn’t known her for long, but she wanted to peel back all her layers.

Paige and Blaire slid into high stools, well, Blaire had slid onto her stool, and Paige had sat right next to her, scooching hers close enough for their legs to touch. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Blaire said, referring to when they were up at the register. Paige shoved her card into the reader before Blaire could pull out her wallet, murmuring a slick, “You don’t gotta pay when you’re with me ma.” Paige shovels her food into her mouth, swallowing and licking her lips, “Stop pretending like you don’t like it.” Blaire rolls her eyes at that.

Paige holds the trash can open, Blaire disposes her bowl and fork. “Sooooo… I know parties aren’t your thing, but you gotta come to senior bonfire. It’s tradition” Paige perks up as she says this, hoping that Blaire will cave in. “Paige, you know I don’t do well with those kinds of things, too much opportunity for things to go wrong.” Blaire reasons, Paige fakes a pout, “Oh c’monnnnn, if you worry too much about ‘what can go wrong’ you’ll miss out on experiences that’ll go right!” Blaire gives a puzzled look to the taller girl. “Okay, that didn’t really make sense, but you get what I mean.” Paige answers to Blaire’s questioning look, Paige is persistent, tugging on Blaire’s shrug sleeve while repeating the word “please” more than one should say in a lifetime. “OKAY! Fine, I’ll go, but you have to promise to stay with me. If something happens, I’ll never forgive you.” Blaire pointedly says. Paige’s hands shoot up in defense, silence between them before a notification sounds from Paige’s phone, “Deal.” The blonde says, smiling in triumph.

#a’s works ⭐️ ⋆₊˚⊹୨୧ #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconnwbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #hopkins paige #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader

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revelboo · 5 months ago

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the recent development with 'everything is alright' has me wondering about king starscream and how... lonely he seems. granted rattrap is there but hes... not much company in stars mind, i think. like dont get me wrong i knew he'd be lonely and a little on the right side of miserable, but that in tandem with the bit about 'dont you know you're home/his future/the one good thing in his life' bit from the last chapter has me!! chokign up a bit cuz damn he really wasnt kidding!!! he got what he wanted but at the cost of still being miserable bc its fuckin LONELY at the top when youre paranoid as all hell with VERY REAL justifications to back said paranoia up!!! god!!!

Yeah, King Star isn’t all that happy. I do like playing with different versions of the same character and just tweaking the circumstances. In Everything is Alright he’s alienated himself from his Trine due to his paranoia, in True Romance he still trusts his Trine and has that relationship, so he’s a lot less paranoid and lonely, in Overdone his Trine just drifted apart. He could have made more of an effort to connect and reach out, but he was so focused on his goals, he didn’t really notice that gap widening until they’re almost strangers to each other

Overdone Pt 2

IDW RID Starscream x Reader

• “You’re weren’t on earth, were you?” He asks when Rattrap gawks at the human in his grip. Striding past, he heads for his private habsuite. Hears Rattrap weakly call out about the reports and he ignores him. They can wait. But you? A human from nowhere plummeting to your death. Closing the door behind himself, he studies you as you cling to his servos. Timid for a spy. “Well?” He growls, depositing you on his desk. “Where did you come from?” Who sent you to spy on him? Wants to know so he can and deliver your broken body to them.

• Falling on your hip, you stare at the big monster and his wings flare out. Trying to say something, anything, when you’re too terrified to make a sound. You’d been driving and then crippling pain had slammed through you, feeling like being torn in two. And then finding yourself somewhere wholly different falling to your death. It’s a nightmare and you can’t wake up. Lip curling, he slams his huge palms down far too close to you and you scream and cringe into a ball. “Speak! Who are you working for?” He roars.

• Pretending at terror? No, venting softly as that acrid shift in your scent registers, he leans back. Not an act. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” You cry, little voice broken and terrified and his wings droop slightly. Maybe you’re telling the truth, but you came from somewhere. Humans don’t spontaneously teleport across space and time. Except you apparently had. Servos tapping on the desk, he glares at you and the problem you pose. If you are a spy? An autobot ally sent to undermine him? Why risk your death? If he hadn’t grabbed you, you would have died. Maybe whoever had dropped you meant to see what he’d do and you’re of no importance to them beyond as an expendable pawn?

• “Stop cowering and sniveling,” he growls and you risk a glance at that scowling face, see his optics narrow at you. “If you show your fear, others will use that against you.” Heart hammering against your ribs, you watch him pace around the huge room. And when he’s not looking at you, you can breathe. Try to get your bearings. You have no idea where you are or how you got here, but it had hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt. Tracking him as he lifts a hand, murmuring, you realize he’s talking to himself at the same time it sinks past the fear that he’d caught you when you’d been falling. He’d saved you.

• Why had he saved you? Because you’re not a monster not matter how much you pretend you are, that annoying, little ghost whispers and he curls his lip. “You know nothing.” Refuses to look, to let his processor trick him with impossible things. Would think maybe you’re a hallucination, too. Except he’d felt your little heart beating against his servos, the warmth of your body in his hands. He’s not mad enough to imagine details like that, yet. Though for you to appear when he was considering not pulling up? Are you a punishment? Drifting back to the desk, his head tips with predatory interest as he rests a servo against your throat and you lay a soft hand on him. You feel real. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rid myself of you. Make me believe you’re no spy.”

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #starscream

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artemiisvanity · 1 year ago

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I don't talk enough about Daisy's relationship with both Allison & Lilith. Let's change that.

Daisy falls for Allison pretty quickly. It only takes one time watching Allison on stage and one conversation for them to be absolutely smitten. They're naturally protective of Allison, a bit overly so. Hearing all Allison has gone through, Daisy would do anything and everything to keep from history repeating itself. Funny enough, Allison's experiences are what keep her from pursuing a relationship, wanting to give Allison time to heal from and process everything she's gone through.

Then there's Lilith.

In the beginning, Daisy isn't really sure what to make of her. Just another mob boss in Hollow Port that... oddly enough, makes something in her heart move. Much like Allison, Daisy is hesitant to admit her feelings towards The Lady of The Underground, but she's much more passive and tame about it, compared to Allison who is more bitter and spiteful.

Eventually, Daisy offers herself to Lilith, figuring that The Phantom wants Allison as a submissive bride, Daisy offers instead to grant Allison peace. She's willing to throw away her priesthood for the sake of one love, and the chance to help another grow from their mistakes.

Imagine Daisy's surprise when she realizes that Lilith, not only had good intentions along and just went about in a dumb way, but is actually the pure hearted maiden that Daisy was foretold to protect!

One long ass explanation and a good session of rebuilding trust lady, the trio find themselves in a healthy polycule where they finally come to understand each other.

Now Daisy doesn't hesitate. She makes her feelings known and refuses to be passive in dire situations. She can't afford to. Allison & Lilith need her. And she needs them...

#waiting in the wings: character study/about #all i ask of you: daisy x lilith x allison #outofswords #the gays have been through hell and back....

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spnhunter4life · 6 months ago

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Good Morning

Summary: Ridoc is dying to share the latest gossip he's just discovered about a certain squadmate or two.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry in advance for the somewhat lengthy note here. Don't feel obligated to read the whole thing. So, I'm back and writing again! Not only is this my first fic back after nearly 6 months, but it's my first Fourth Wing fic! It is also my first time writing for anything other than Supernatural. After finishing these books I did the only logical thing and started searching out fanfiction to cope with the very real Fourth Wing hangover I was dealing with, and I was a little disappointed that there aren't more Liam fics out there since he is by far my favorite character. So I guess this is me, getting a start on putting more Liam fics out into the world. You're welcome? Maybe? Hopefully? Anyway, this fic is mostly just a lot of banter between the squad. Writing this kind of friend dynamic doesn't come super easily to me, but I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too! (Also, big thank you to anyone who actually read this whole thing!)

Masterlist

“Good morning!” Ridoc chirped with the biggest, most knowing grin on his face I’d ever seen. I glared daggers at him as I took my seat at the table next to Violet, Liam setting his plate down and sitting next to me.

His cheerful greeting was widely ignored, acknowledged only by Sawyer who managed little more than a grunt in reply.

Undeterred by this lackluster response, Ridoc continued cheerfully, “It is a great morning, isn’t it? What do you think, Rhi?”

I continued my glaring, but Liam merely rolled his eyes.

“I think it would be better if you weren’t being so loud,” Rhiannon, who had the misfortune of sitting next to him, grumbled.

“See? Rhiannon agrees,” Ridoc continued, either not listening to her answer or just ignoring it in favor of his obvious goal. “What about you, Violet? Having a good morning?”

Violet looked at Ridoc a little warily, catching on to his tone. “I suppose so,” she agreed.

Sawyer, who was also catching on, began to look suspiciously around the room before focusing back on our table. “What’s going on, Ridoc?” He asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” Ridoc replied in a tone that was far from casual. “But since you ask, you know who I hear is having a particularly good morning?” That knowing smile was back, but toned down into more of a smirk than an all out grin.

“Ridoc,” I warned since my glaring evidently hadn’t made my point.

“I heard Sam saying he saw Jesse coming out of Avery’s room this morning.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders and everyone else rolled their eyes.

“That’s old news,” Sawyer said.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a great morning for them,” Ridoc countered.

Conversation seemingly over, I turned to Violet.

“Hey, are you still available to help me study for that history test tonight?” I asked her.

“Yeah, of course,” she immediately agreed. “I’ve got some useful tips to help you memorize-”

“You know who else is having a great morning?” Ridoc cut in. My glare returned full force and I kicked him under the table. He yelped and Sawyer looked curiously between us.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” He asked.

“Ridoc caught me kissing Y/N this morning and apparently has nothing better to do than gossip about it,” Liam said, cutting off the ensuing battle of wills and drama before it could really start. Everyone gaped at him. I saw slightly squinted eyes and tilted heads as if they were replaying his words, sure they’d heard him wrong.

“Wait. Seriously?” Rhiannon was the one to break the silence, a grin slowly forming on her face.

I shot Liam a half hearted betrayed look and sighed. “Yes, really!” Ridoc said excitedly before I could say the exact same thing, albeit in a much less enthusiastic tone. It’s not that I didn’t want them to know, it’s that I didn’t want them to know yet. The truth was, we’d been together for just over a week now, and while I was loving it, I wasn’t ready to make the best thing I had going public knowledge to be gossiped about.

“You know how Liam’s been giving Y/N sparring lessons before breakfast?” He asked. While I hadn’t been performing poorly on the mat by any stretch of the imagination, I still had lots of room for improvement and had asked Liam to help me. Those lessons, those quiet times we had together with no one else around were what finally pushed us together. Turns out we’d both been pining for quite some time.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, a not so subtle push for more information.

“Well I was up early this morning and decided I’d go see if they could use my help.” This earned a snort from Rhi. “Anyway,” he continued, brushing off the wordless comment about the state of his own fighting skills, “I walked into the room and, what do you know? Turns out ‘training’ was just code for making out.”

“It was not!” I objected, a little too loudly. Several heads turned our direction and I felt my face heat. “He’s really been helping me,” I continued in a quieter voice. Liam, who was usually my go to for help in an argument of any kind, was apparently too busy being pleased with himself to back me up. I could see him fighting the smug smile threatening to take over his face. I fought the urge to roll my eyes again.

“So was this a heat of the moment, one time thing, or what happened? You know we need details!” Violet prompted.

“Heat of the moment?” I asked, eyeing Liam as I remembered his arms around me as he encouraged me to break his hold. His eyes heated as he remembered too. “Yes. One time thing? No.”

“So how long has this been going on for?” Rhi demanded.

“Barely more than a week,” Liam answered. “And we were going to tell you. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little bit.”

“You know what? I don’t even care that you didn’t tell us,” Violet assured us. “I’m just so happy to see you two finally admitting you’re into each other.”

“Yeah,” Rhi agreed. “To be honest, all the obvious staring and longing looks were getting a little old. I was about ready to step in and do something about it.”

“Like what?” I asked warily. She wasn’t one to hold back or do things the easy, gentle way, so if she truly had been planning something, then I’m glad we beat her to the punch.

“I don’t know. Kiss Liam to make you jealous. Find someone dumb enough to kiss you to make Liam jealous. Ridoc, maybe.”

“Hey!” Ridoc protested at being called dumb, but it was a token protest at best. We all knew he would’ve done it with very little prompting.

“Get a ridiculous, teenage version of truth or dare going and either have you kiss each other or force you to admit your feelings,” she continued. “Or maybe just beat you both around the head and tell you how oblivious you were both being.”

“My money’s on the last option,” Sawyer muttered, loudly enough that we all heard him. I was inclined to agree. The other options she’d listed were not really her style. She preferred a more direct approach.

“Well, luckily for us, there will be no beating necessary,” Liam said.

Ridoc grinned. “Au contraire, my friend. It sounds like some beating was very necessary. Unless you’re going to change your mind and tell me that training was just an excuse to make out after all.”

I huffed in exasperation and Liam shook his head, a fond smile on his face.

“If all we were doing was making out, why would we even come up with an excuse? Why would we not just spend the night together? It would be a lot simpler,” I pointed out.

“It would be simpler, wouldn’t it?” That ridiculous grin was still firmly plastered on his face. A quick look around the table confirmed that the rest of our friends were wearing similar smiles.

“Something to keep in mind,” Liam chuckled. “But in the meantime, I think you’ll all be quite impressed with Y/N’s improvements at our next squad training session tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah?” Violet asked with a sly grin. “Been putting her through her paces, have you?”

Ridoc choked on his water and started violently coughing to expel it from his lungs. Rhiannon thumped him on the back as she snickered.

Liam’s eyes sparked in surprise and then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a rarely seen – and unfairly attractive – mischievous grin. “Why, Violet? You thinking about joining us?” I could practically see the snarky retort forming in her mind, but just before she could voice it, Liam continued. “I’m a little preoccupied with Y/N, of course, but I could always ask Xaden to help you out.”

Violet turned red at the mention of the wingleader.

“Yes, Violet,” I grinned. “You do love seeing him without a shirt on.” I couldn’t help but reference the way she had openly stared at him yesterday while he and Garrick sparred.

“Oh please,” Rhi scoffed. “As if we’ve never seen you ogling Mairi when his shirt’s off.”

Liam turned a surprised look on me, eyebrow raised in question. I shrugged. There was no point hiding it from him anymore. “Guilty as charged.”

Liam’s smile turned back to smug and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s not exactly news to you that you’re attractive.”

“And that means I’m not supposed to like knowing that you’ve been looking?” He challenged. Then he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Or are you telling me it doesn’t do something to you when you catch me looking at you that way?”

My face felt like it was on fire with how quickly the blood rushed to it. I whipped my head around to stare at him incredulously, surprised he would make such a comment right in front of our friends. They hadn’t heard him of course, but their knowing smirks said enough about their ability to guess at what had been said.

“I thought we were teasing Violet now,” I managed to choke out. Liam’s thumb rubbed soothingly over my knee in silent apology, but the gleam in his eye told me he wasn’t sorry for making the comment, only that there were other people around.

“Her infatuation with Riorson is old news. This is much more interesting,” Ridoc answered.

“Interesting or not, if we’re going to make it to Battle Brief on time, we’d better get going,” Sawyer informed us. I glanced around the room and realized he was right. The morning’s usual mass exit was starting as everyone hurried to make it to class. We all stood up and followed them.

“Seriously, though,” Sawyer said, dropping back to walk beside us for a moment. “I’m happy for you two.” There were echoes of agreement from the other three walking directly ahead of us.

“Thanks,” Liam and I answered at the same time.

This day hadn’t started out quite how I wanted, what with our friends finding out about us, but I realized it wasn’t such a bad thing. A weight I hadn’t even realized was there was lifted off of my chest with the relief of no longer having to keep a secret from our squadmates.

I couldn’t seem to keep the smile off my face the whole way to Battle Brief. When I joined the rider’s quadrant, I was prepared for hard work and sacrifice and spending my days miserable and alone. Instead, I had a wonderful group of friends that would do anything for me. I was lucky enough to be in a relationship with the most incredible man I’d ever met. And I was happy, I realized. Happier than I’d been in a very long time. Maybe ever.

I reached for Liam’s hand under the table. He entwined our fingers without question, and I knew he would hold on until the need to take notes required us to let go. I couldn’t be upset with Ridoc anymore about outing us to the squad. I was too grateful to be a part of this little family we had all created together. I smiled to myself as I remembered his over the top greeting this morning in preparation for teasing us and how annoyed I had been. He was right, though. It was a good morning.

#good morning #fourth wing #fanfiction #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #violet sorrengail #ridoc gamlyn #sawyer henrick #rhiannon matthias #reader insert #fluff

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vxnuslogy · 1 year ago

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— the angel who lived. ft sunday

— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), not proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors

— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p

death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.

sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.

“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his position and walked with you.

“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.

but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?

one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.

“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”

and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”.

the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.

“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.

“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”

“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”

the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.

“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?

“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.

you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”

you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.”

sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.

“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”

sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.

elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.

“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’.

sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.

“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.

“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.

after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”

“not now, that's for sure.”

sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.

“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.”

“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”

and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.

he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.

but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.

taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.

“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.”

by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.

“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.

“i have something i need to do.”

elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats.

“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“mother, wait!”

sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.

“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.

golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.

“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”

sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.

—

“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”

your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.

“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”

“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices.

“i’ll be down in a—”

you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.

“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”

from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.

“something the matter, angel?”

“enough with the mind games, death.”

he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.

“what's going on?”

“nothing is going on.”

“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious.

“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.

gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.

“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”

“i believe that's none of your business.”

“you—!”

sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.

“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”

“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.

“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”

—

“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”

by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.

you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals. brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.

after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.

“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.

“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”

he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.

after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”

sunday was the first to answer.

“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.

you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.

“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”

“death will find us all.”

in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.

“it's good to see you again, mother.”

sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.

“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.

the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.

“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”

“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”

the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.

“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story.

“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”

“you've always done a good job, mother.”

sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.

your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin.

“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”

“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”

and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.

sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.

“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”

—

you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity.

the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”

but sunday thought otherwise.

how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?

they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes.

you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were.

he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.

“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”

“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”

“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”

he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.

“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”

sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.

“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.

he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.

against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his.

“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.

your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.

“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.

with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.”

sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.

“sit down.” you command and he followed.

the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.

“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.

your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.

“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”

“there's your answer then.”

sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.

“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”

“maybe.”

before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.

you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.

“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.

“including you?”

“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”

“how so?”

“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”

“will someone replace you once you're gone?”

you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.

“ely would probably replace me.”

sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.

“they aren't really children, you know.”

the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”

“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”

“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”

“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”

“even i don't know the answer to that.”

“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”

you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.

“i don't know.”

“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down.

“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”

“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”

sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.

“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”

“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”

“do you have to cut the cord?”

what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.

you only smiled bitterly in response.

“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”

sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it.

he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.

“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.

“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.

“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”

sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight.

your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.

“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”

“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.

the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.

but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.

sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.

“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.”

your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.

“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”

sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face.

“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.

“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”

he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state.

“i never… took you one for compliments.”

you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.

this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.

“are you fond of children?”

“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”

“just answer me directly, death.”

you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.

“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”

“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”

you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.

your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own.

you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.

“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”

you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.

“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”

“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.”

“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”

“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.

“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”

alright, you admit, he got you there.

“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”

“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”

“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”

“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.

“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”

“what if they aren't gentle with you?”

“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”

ah, he got you again.

—

sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.

all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal.

sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.

he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.

you would.

why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to.

“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”

“but we still have to.”

jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.

“can the angel walk?”

twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.

you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.

sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.

“where are we?” he asks.

“in reality.”

his eyes narrowed in a confused glare.

“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”

the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.

he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?

“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”

“what's going on…”

“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.

against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop.

“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.

“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”

what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.

“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”

sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.

“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”

“this isn't a game, death.”

sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.

“all is fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes.

what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?

“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”

his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.

“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”

you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”

“three.”

“two.”

“one.”

“RUN!”

and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.

“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”

your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.

you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.

but this time, sunday would rise victorious.

“brother!”

sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.

“it's mr. sunday!”

“are you alright?”

everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.

“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”

sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.

“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”

sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”

“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.” robin explained.

“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.

wait.

“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.

“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”

before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.

“brother!”

something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.

he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.

“it's time to wake up, sunday.”

sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.

the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.

“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”

sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.

and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.

“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”

“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”

“you can't.”

“you don't know that!”

the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.

“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”

“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”

you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.

“no…”

“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”

“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.

there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.

“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”

“you were.”

were. you didn't kill him.

the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.

you didn't kill him.

the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.

“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.

sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.

“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”

how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.

you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.

“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”

you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.

“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”

“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”

“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”

sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.

“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail imagines #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday angst #sunday imagines #honkai star rail x you #star rail x reader #star rail x you #hsr angst #hsr x you #hsr x reader #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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blackcat-star · 1 month ago

Note

Any Solo Leveling character is writeable for you? Is it possible to ask for a gn entomologist reader (who may or may not be autistic) who is really interested in Beru in a platonic and scientific kind of way? Like they're Jinwoo's friend, but they can't help, but be curious about Beru whenever he summons him.

I hope writing this won't be hard for you...

Afraid? No.

[Platonic] Beru x Reader.

I'm sorry that you have to wait for so long 😭😭 Hope you don't get upset.

I love you all 💗

______________________

The first time you saw Beru, you almost dropped the specimen box from your hands. The glass jars, filled with butterflies and rare beetles, rattled as you were stunned.

You had known Sung Jinwoo for almost a year now. The two of you had met by chance at a university lecture on rare insects - you had come as part of the entomology research group, and he... well, he had never really explained why he was there. He would just smile lightly whenever you asked, that faint smile like a mirror reflecting the bottom of still water, making others unconsciously want to trust him.

Without knowing when, a strange friendship had blossomed between the two of you: one was a curious entomology student, the other was law student, a man with a lonely aura like a long night.

Somehow, you soon realized that Sung Jinwoo was no ordinary person. Bits and pieces of truth are revealed through broken conversations, sudden disappearances, moments when he looks into the distance as if hearing something you can't quite place. Until the day he hesitantly reveals - he is the Shadow Monarch, the one who stands in the shadows, commanding armies that are neither living nor dead.

You've seen the silhouettes of his soldiers from afar: their towering figures, their roars that fill the air. You think you’re prepared, that nothing can scare you anymore.

Until today.

Beru.

A giant creature with silvery wings, a body that is part human, part insect, exuding an aura that freezes the air. His eyes glow coldly, his claws glint with metallic light, and a strange, respectful bow that makes the whole image both terrifying and strange.

"My King," Beru said in a shrill voice, bowing to Jinwoo like a loyal knight.

And you? You seized the specimen box and your heart raced like it would escape your body.

Sung Jinwoo shifted his gaze toward you while expressing regret through his eyes and hiding a hint of amusement. The man spoke gently to you like he would comfort a tiny bird. "He will not cause you any injury."

You opened your mouth to reply, but only a weak gasp escaped. For the first time in your life, you felt small in front of a creature that did not belong to this world - and for the first time, you understood that your friendship with Jinwoo had drawn you into a world much, much larger and stranger than the butterflies in the glass cage.

"Jinwoo, that… that's no ordinary ant," you whispered, your eyes widening so much they almost popped out of your head as a giant black insectoid glided out from Jinwoo's shadow.

Jinwoo only gave his signature small, mysterious smile. "This is Beru," he introduced in a light voice, as if he were talking about a house cat. "My strongest shadow."

Beru's jaw clicked slightly as it bowed respectfully before Jinwoo, then slowly turned its ember-red eyes to you. The moment those eyes locked onto you, the air around you felt thick.

But you didn't back down.

Years of studying insects had forged a heart of steel against anything with antennae, segmented legs, or pincers. Instead of fear, you felt a surge of excitement in your chest, blood pumping in your veins.

"Is he… is he a derivative of Camponotus?" you blurted, approaching Beru with the glint of a kid in a candy store. "Or more Atta-like in physiology? The exoskeleton is fascinating... a perfect blend of insect and human anatomy!"

You almost started muttering technical terms as you circled Beru, taking in every little detail: the texture of the chitinous surface, the proportions of the forelimbs and hindlimbs, even wanting to bend down to examine the movable joints.

Jinwoo stared at you with uncertainty and mild confusion.

"Most people run away screaming." The experience made him uncertain about whether it was something to boast about or something he should worry about because most people flee in terror according to his account.

You just waved your hand, eyes still fixed on Beru as if the world around them had vanished. "Most people aren't entomologists," you replied, dead serious. "Do you think I could study him sometimes? Just observation, I promise! No invasive intervention! The scientific community would never believe this if I didn't have the documentation."

Beru tilted his head slightly to look at you, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Perhaps because of the special attention he was getting, the giant creature even leaned towards you as if to make it easier for you to observe. Jinwoo rubbed his forehead, obviously trying to figure out who he had just brought to his side.

"Arise," Jinwoo muttered with a resigned sigh.

Immediately, from the shadows stretching out beneath him, a series of smaller creatures emerged - medium-sized shadow ants, all lined up in neat formation before you. They clicked, their armor glistening like ink in the light.

Your eyes widened even more.

"A fully hierarchical colony structure?" you whispered excitedly, your hand clutching the notebook in your pocket as if you were afraid you would forget every detail. "Jinwoo, this is unbelievable!"

Jinwoo, who looked at you as if he were witnessing a creature even stranger than any monster he had ever encountered, sighed, nodding in surrender. "Just think of it as a personal field trip."

You were practically jumping for joy, and Beru, with a look of utter pride on his face, puffed out his chest and stood straight like a first-class specimen, ready for you to analyze every millimeter.

__________

Over the next few months, Jinwoo allows you to observe Beru and several of his other insect shadows in your spare time. You keep a professional distance - these are sentient beings, after all, not just specimens - but your notebooks quickly fill with observations.

'Subject Beru exhibits incredible intelligence and communication abilities. Unlike conventional ants that rely on pheromone signals, it appears to be capable of complex vocalizations and understanding human speech. The jaw structure suggests evolution for both combat and complex communication.

Behavioral Notes: Despite its fearsome appearance, the subject displays absolute loyalty to SJ. The hierarchy within the shadow army mimics that of natural ant colonies but with greater individual autonomy.'

One evening, as you sat cross-legged on the ground of the Shadow Realm (you don't know how you could come here), sketching Beru's jawbone structure, Jinwoo approached with two cups of coffee.

"You know," he said, handing you a cup, "Beru asked about you."

You almost spilled your coffee. "He what???"

"He was curious why you were always following him. I explained what an entomologist was, but..." Jinwoo shrugged. "He wanted to know more."

You glanced at the giant ant, who was currently engaging in a sparring match with big knight shadow. "Is he curious about me too?"

Jinwoo nodded. "He's smart. Smarter than most people think."

That night, for the first time, you spoke directly to Beru instead of just observing or taking notes.

"Your social structure - before you became shadows, I mean - must be fascinating," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Is it similar to terrestrial ants, with a queen and specialized workers?"

Beru's head tilts, his mandibles clicking softly. Then, to your surprise, he begins to describe the queen ant society of Jeju Island. His voice is deep, resonant, with a strange clicking tone, but completely understandable.

You rush to your notebook, frantically taking notes as Beru explains concepts that will completely change the understanding of entomology - if you can publish it, which you know you can't.

_________

"You're not afraid of him at all, are you?" Jinwoo asked a few months later, watching her carefully measure the distance between Beru's whiskers with a special caliper.

"Should I be afraid?" you asked, taking down the measurement. "Beru has never shown any behavior that would make me feel scared."

"People usually view my shadows as monsters."

You looked up at Beru, who patiently allowed you to examine him. "I see a remarkable evolutionary adaptation. A sentient being with a complex social structure and intelligence. Why would I be afraid of something so fascinating?"

Then, as Jinwoo stepped outside to take a phone call, Beru's lower jaw clicked slightly.

"You are different," he said, his eyes fixed on you.

"Why?" you asked, closing your notebook.

"Not afraid. See me. Not just a shadow. Not just a monster."

You smile. "Oh, a career interest. I have devoted my entire life to studying insects. You stand as the most amazing individual I have encountered thus far."

Beru's lower jaw clicks in a way you recognize as his laugh. "Human study me. I study human."

"You studied me?" you ask, surprised.

"Different colonies. Different ways. Interesting to me."

You smile. "I suppose we're both researchers in our own ways."

#solo leveling x reader #beru x reader #platonic #solo leveling #reader insert #gender neutral reader #i have received all your requests #please wait for me 🙏🙏#just slam into my message box if you have waited for so long and there's no sign of your request

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yanderecrazysie · 1 year ago

Text

Twisted Zoo Chapter Eight

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @leleunderscore06 @tinymonke @lonelybluesworld @owodi @girl-nahh-two @obeythehuman @berry-efoy @ivorette @the-broken-truth and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Next Chapter: Chapter Nine

WARNINGS: none

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, (Y/n)! What have you got there?” Ace was quick to greet you when you walked into the bird exhibit, balancing a box of donuts in one hand as you closed the door behind you.

“I brought donuts!” you said with a wide smile. Ace’s face lit up, “Oh sweet! Is there a cherry flavored one?”

“Huh?” you were surprised by the request, “I’m not entirely sure that exists… either way, I’m afraid I don’t have that flavor. I have strawberry frosted ones though.”

“I’ll take it,” Ace said, reaching greedily for the box in your hand. You walked closer to him and popped the lid open.

“There are so many flavors!” Ace gasped at the sight of the box’s contents, “Say what you want about humans, but they’re real masters at making food.”

“Yup, we’re pretty good at food,” you laughed.

Ace took a donut with pink frosting and sprinkles out of the box and studied it, “Looks kinda girly.”

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like,” you snorted, “The taste is the only thing that matters.”

Ace took a bite and chewed for a moment, savoring the flavor, before his eyes lit up with excitement, “Delicious!” He ate the rest of the donut in two bites.

“So you like cherry?” you asked.

“Cherry pie, at least,” Ace said, “In the rainforest, I lived near a village, and a kind old lady used to give cherry pies to all the halflings.”

“That’s really nice of her,” you said with a fond smile, “Was she sad to see you leave?”

“She died,” Ace said, looking away, “She was long gone by the time I left the rainforest.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, but Ace merely shrugged.

You reached out and took one of Ace’s hands in your own, “I’ll try to bring you a cherry pie one of these days, when I get better at cooking, okay?”

Ace smiled at you, “I’d like that.” He cleared his throat, eyes looking a little watery as he suddenly spread his colorful wings and flew into his birdhouse.

You turned to Deuce’s cage and found him already watching you.

“Want a donut?” you asked.

He gave you a reproachful look but dipped his hand into the box you offered to him anyways. He chose a simple glazed donut and put it aside for later. You had the feeling he might not be one for sweets.

Still, he looked up at you with a soft smile, a light blush, and a “thank you”. You smiled and told him, “No problem, Deuce.”

You decided to go to Trey next, even though he creeped you out a little with the way he looked at you, as though he knew everything about you with one glance.

You found him waiting patiently for you to approach him, despite him being an owl in the middle of the day. “I’m surprised you’re not sleeping,” you told him.

“I could never sleep through your visit,” Trey said softly.

“That’s surprisingly sweet,” you replied with a smile.

“Surprisingly?” Trey asked, “Am I not allowed to be sweet?”

“No, it’s just…” you pushed aside your misgivings- it was probably rude of you to be so creeped out by a halfling that did nothing wrong. Owls always had a severe kind of look to them, that’s probably why he scared you, “Nevermind. Would you like a donut?”

Trey took one from your box and smiled at you, “Long time since sweets.”

“When was the last time you had one?” you asked.

“Used to cook. Made tarts,” he explained.

“You made tarts?” you asked, surprised, “I didn’t know halflings could cook!”

“I could,” Trey said, a proud smile sliding across his face.

“That’s amazing!” your earlier misgivings were forgotten. Your heart melted from how soft his smile was. He looked so innocently happy, thinking back to when he made tarts.

He turned his bright smile on you as he took a small bite from the donut he had selected, “I wish I could make tart for you.”

“I’m not sure how that would work, but maybe someday we could find a way. I would really love to try one of your tarts, Trey.”

His smile widened, “There is a way.”

Suddenly, you felt as though his smile was wrong somehow, as though there was something darker behind his words. Even so, you asked, “What way is that?”

Trey lifted a finger to his lips, corners of his mouth curling upwards, “Secret.”

“Alright then,” you sighed, “Well, I’ve got to give donuts to the others. Bye Trey.”

“Goodbye, (Y/n),” he replied, watching as you walked over to the flamingo’s cage.

You stepped onto the marshland and lifted the box high, “Hey, Riddle, Cater, I have donuts!”

Cater ran forward with a loud “oooh”, but you were more surprised with Riddle’s reaction. The red-haired halfling picked up a strawberry frosted donut with all the care in the world, as though it were a precious, fragile object. He stared at it for a while, even as Cater chowed down on his chocolate donut.

“You brought these… for us?” Riddle asked, “Why?”

“I brought some for the lions, hyenas, and wolves, so I thought it would only be fair,” you said with a shrug.

Riddle continued to stare at his donut in awe until Cater teasingly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Riddle, you are going to eat it, right?”

Riddle’s face turned red immediately and he stuffed the donut into his mouth, tearing a large bite out of it in embarrassment. You held back a giggle and reached out a hand to pat his red hair, “It’s okay, I’m really glad you like it.”

Riddle looked up, face red as a tomato, and met your gaze. His blue eyes widened and he ducked his head, somehow turning even redder. He hurried away, still holding tightly onto his strawberry frosted donut. Cater chuckled and turned back to you.

“Thank you for the donuts. Riddle likes sweets,” he said, “Very much.”

“I didn’t know that about him,” you said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Bring him a strawberry tart,” Cater said in a stage whisper.

“Trey said he makes tarts,” you said.

Cater’s eyes widened, “Yes, I know. Riddle and Trey were childhood friends.”

“That’s so cool!” you took a glance at Trey’s cage and was glad to see it was close enough to the flamingo’s cage that they could talk to each other.

“Yes, well,” Cater looked suddenly uncomfortable, “Riddle’s childhood was not… Well, that’s up to him to share.”

“Oh…” you frowned, looking after the retreating male with sympathy, “I’ll definitely bring him a strawberry tart soon.”

“Thank you,” Cater said, swooping over and landing a kiss on your cheek. You gasped in surprise and placed your fingers over the spot he had kissed. Cater chuckled and waved, running after Riddle and leaving you behind, standing there dumbstruck.

Finally, you managed to pull yourself together and shook your head with a laugh. All of the halflings were so different, and Cater certainly was a character.

You left the flamingo cage and headed for the peacock cage. Vil gave you a disdainful look as you approached them, but Epel and Rook drew closer with interest.

“Hey, I’ve got donuts!” you sang out. None of them looked particularly thrilled, but they still all took one from your box.

“I’d like to get to know you all better,” you said with a friendly smile, “Is there anything I could bring you guys as a gift?”

“Moisturizer,” Vil said, turning his head as though he couldn’t stand to look at you. It kind of ticked you off, if you were being honest.

“I actually have some in my locker. I can go grab it if you want. I have lotion too.”

Vil and Rook stared at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky. Epel didn’t seem to care as much, merely munching away on his donut. You smiled at him, “You’re looking handsome as ever today, Epel.”

He choked on the donut, blush rising on his cheeks and a hesitant smile gracing his lips as he looked at you fondly, “you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” you said with a smile. Epel blushed and looked away, his feathers puffing out in embarrassment.

“Now, I’ll go get that moisturizer and lotion for you, Vil,” you said, “Do you want anything, Rook?”

“Your kindness is astounding, mademoiselle,” Rook said, fluttering his eyelids as a smile swept across his face, “But I will be happy with moisturizer as well.”

Less than ten minutes later, you were sitting with Rook and Vil, all of your skin care products spread between you all. Vil looked like Christmas had come early.

“Thank you,” he said, genuine to the core. It was the first time you had truly seen him smile- he was truly beautiful with one.

Rook looked on happily, pleased to see the both of you happy. It was a peaceful scene.

If only it could stay that way forever.

#twisted wonderland

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