#Red son is so fun to draw actually I should draw him more often | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent��s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

#dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #maribat #bio!dad au #Bio!mom Harley Quinn #Bio!Dad joker #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Harley’s Plea for Help #platonic brucinette #platonic jasonette #platonic Harley Quinn x Marinette

632 notes · View notes

revasnaslan · 3 years

Note

thane/irikah, sharing a dessert or one falling asleep with their head in the other's lap? your choice lmao

Sunlit Days | Ao3

The sun was a rare sight on Kahje. Once or twice a year, it would manage to make an appearance, but most of the time, the planet was shrouded beneath such heavy cloud cover that it felt like they were trapped in a perpetual night. While drell couldn’t thrive in such conditions, they made due.

Irikah was going to enjoy the sun for what little time she had with it. After all, tomorrow it would be gone again and they would have nothing but the memory of its warmth to tide them over until the next time the sun decided to show itself again. As Irikah made her way down the street, she leaned her head back and allowed the sunlight to wash over her deep blue-and-black scales. A contented smile played on her lips as she took the final turn and the house came into view at the very end of the street.

While Thane hadn’t mentioned taking Kolyat out for the day, that didn’t mean they had stayed home. Today was too beautiful to waste being cooped up inside, after all. Irikah had found herself feeling restless all throughout her shift, while sunlight shone in through the windows. More than once, she had found herself drawn away from her tests so she could let the sunlight fall across her face. She hadn’t even stayed late, knowing that the sun had began its descent in the sky.

“I’m home!” Irikah called as she entered the house, setting her bag down beside the shoes that were haphazardly piled next to the door. As she began shrugging off her coat, she peered through the doorway into the kitchen, expecting her son to come running as soon as he heard her voice. Kolyat was five now, steadily growing more independent, but he was always happy to see her when she got home in the afternoons.

Neither he nor Thane appeared, however. Frowning, Irikah finished shrugging off her coat and hung it beside the door before stepping through into the kitchen. There were a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, and the datapad Kolyat had gotten for his birthday—strictly for games that were supposed to help young drell develop cognition and memory retention—sat abandoned on the counter, still powered on. Irikah shut it off and set it to the side.

It looked like a bomb had gone off in the living room. Half-finished drawings were scattered across the floor and the low table at the center of the room—mostly Kolyat’s work from what Irikah could tell, although she also saw one or two that looked like they might have been done by Thane. He often mixed up red and black, where Kolyat did not, and it was noticeable in their work. As she began tidying up, avoiding stray crayons underfoot, she found herself wondering if they had gotten distracted by the rare sight of the sun, as she had at work. She certainly couldn’t fault them for it, if that was the case.

She carefully set the collected drawings in a neat pile and then glanced around again, for any sign of where they might have gone. Their coats and shoes were still by the front door, and Thane hadn’t left a note in a place she’d immediately have noticed. It was only when a light breeze ran across her frill, and she heard their voices faintly in the distance, that she noticed the door to the backyard had been left ajar. They must not have heard her come home, too caught up in what they were doing out there.

When she eased the door all the way open, she had every intention of immediately announcing her presence, but her voice left her when she noticed what they were doing. Thane had already dressed down for the evening, wearing what he often did when running through his daily meditations and exercises, and Kolyat was dressed similarly. The dark fabric was interwoven with thermal weave that helped maintain one’s body temperature, which was a finicky enough prospect when a drell was sitting still.

Thane was in pose, balancing his foot against his calf, just below the knee. At times, it was easy to mistake him for a statue—his balance never wavered—but right now, he was watching Kolyat attentively as Kolyat attempted to mimic him. And Kolyat—Arashu bless him—wasn’t nearly coordinated enough to do even that without wobbling.

“Your foot is too high,” Thane said patiently. “If you lower it, that will help.”

Kolyat pouted, but did as he was told. While he did still sway just a bit, there was a sharp determination in his eyes as he managed to hold the pose.

“Now, lift your arms up, towards the sun,” Thane instructed before he demonstrated. Although Kolyat hesitated, looking unsure, when Thane gave him an encouraging nod, he was quick to mimic his father. He still wobbled a bit, but he didn’t fall over as Irikah feared he might.

Irikah almost didn’t want to disturb them… only almost, though.

“Well, it looks like you two are having fun,” she said.

This time, when Kolyat nearly tumbled over, Thane caught him with a firm hand against his shoulder. Not that Kolyat seemed to notice—his eyes had lit up at the sight of his mother, and Irikah was quick to scoop him up as soon as he was close enough, spinning him around and kissing his cheek. Kolyat immediately began listing off everything that he and Thane had done while she was at work, although he ran through it so quickly she barely caught most of it. Still, she listened.

Thane approached more slowly and lingered a couple paces away, watching the both of them. His expression was difficult to discern, but there was just the slightest tilt of his head. Irikah recognized that as a sign of fondness. When Thane finally spoke, he did so without raising his voice. “Kolyat, you had a drawing you said you wanted to show your mother.”

Kolyat nodded quickly, his eyes alight as he squirmed out of Irikah’s arms. She set him gently back down on the grass, and he was gone before she could say a word more.

“I just cleaned up after you two,” Irikah sighed, although there wasn’t any actual bite to her voice. It was difficult to be mad at either of them for leaving a mess in the house when it was so nice out here. Thane still looked a little guilty, though.

“I intended to straighten up the house before you got home,” he admitted as he closed the distance between them. When he was close enough, he settled into her arms, pressing his face into her frill. “I fear time got away from us… how was your day, siha?”

“Well enough,” Irikah said, swaying the both of them a little bit in the sun. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her face again. “I kept getting distracted by the sun…”

“Didn’t we all?” Thane asked. “Kolyat could barely sit still all morning… he wanted to be out here.”

Kolyat had only seen the sun once or twice in his life—he had been born in the middle of a very rainy year—so it was little surprise he had been so desperate to enjoy it while he could.

Irikah let out a soft sigh and released Thane, taking hold of his hands and dragging him further into the center of the yard. Thane’s brow pinched, but he followed along after her without complaint. Once they were in the center of the yard, where the sunlight was at its strongest, Irikah settled down in the grass, crossing her legs in front of her. Thane was slow to sit down beside her, glancing back in the direction of the house, watching for Kolyat.

“I noticed that you tried your hand at art again,” Irikah said, reaching out to coax him into laying back with his head in her lap. For a very brief moment, he looked like he was going to protest, but when she began running her fingers along the delicate skin of his frill, he immediately relaxed into her touch. His eyes slid closed.

“Kolyat insisted,” Thane murmured.

Irikah couldn’t help but chuckle. “You spoil him, Thane…”

Thane’s eyes shot open again. “… am I not supposed to do that?”

Quickly, she shook her head. “No, no… it’s fine,” she said reassuringly. “Sweet, even… we should frame some of them. I think they’d look nice in the foyer.”

Silence—a comfortable one—passed between them then. Irikah continued stroking along his frill, and a low, contented hiss left Thane as his eyes slid close again. His breathing evened out within minutes, although it took Irikah a moment to realize that he had fallen asleep. He must have been exhausted… but then, Irikah supposed running around after a five year old all day would that to you.

“Mom!” Kolyat said with no regard for his volume as he hurried out of the house again, clutching the drawing he must have been hunting for. “I found it!”

Irikah hushed him gently, holding a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake your father,” she whispered, before beckoning him closer. “Now, let’s see what you drew.”

#rev's writing again #thane krios #irikah krios #kolyat krios #me when all the krioses appear in a fic: The Gang's All Here #this is the shortest thing i've written in like 2 years #there's probably typos in this but i'm done looking at it!!#anyway bon appetite

56 notes · View notes

diary-of-an-onliner · 3 years

Text

feet on the ground [f.w.]

word count: 3381

warnings: none

a/n: this is based on, and a counterpart/continuation of @ickle-ronniekins 's head in the clouds — thanks for the inspo babe, this one is for you

Fred Weasley was not happy. Sure, he had made a lot of questionable, or as other people like to say 'bad', decisions in his life, but taking Care of Magical Creatures was one of the worst. Yes, it made Hagrid ecstatic, and that's always a good thing to see; yes, it's useful for his future business. However a hellfire-cracken the size of a shoebox was making him rethink his choices.

For the lack of a better distraction, he focused on digging a hole in the grass with his trainer as Hagrid’s rumbled instructiones flew over his head, missing both ears and zooming away into an indifferent oblivion. George is taking this already, he looked to George, who was quite enchanted with his partner, and thoroughly enjoying it, couldn't we have split up? He kicked the dirt lightly, startling the girl next to him.

Neither Fred nor his Slytherin partner were thrilled with each other,but misery loves company, so it might be for the best.

"How's the weather up there?" said his partner, who was crouching eye — er, shell-level, with the creature, but keeping her distance nonetheless. Her hair waved and flickered on her shoulder as she bounced on her heels.

"Immaculate, thanks for asking." he said, not wanting to get closer to the scorpion-lobster lovechild from the asshole of hell. "Y'know Hagrid said those things burn, bite, and sting, right?"

"So do I.” she said sarcastically, still keeping her gaze tied to the monster. “I'm not going to touch it, I'm just looking. You're aware we need to sketch it, label its parts and write an essay about it later?" Fred shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly.

"Yes." his nostrils flared.

She pursed her lips and, after a moment of silence, said: "I dare you to touch it."

He crossed his arms. "I am not taking dares from you. We met three minutes ago and I haven't enjoyed a second of it."

"What's up your ass?" she turned to him, still crouching. "Actually, I don't care. Just don't take it out on me." The creature clicked their — tail? — pincers? — their something.

"I wasn't—" she raised an eyebrow and he fell silent, and looked away.

"'m not very thrilled to be here." he mumbled. "And that ugly death trap isn't making it better. Can we start over?" he asked, sighing and tiredly sweeping his left hand through his hair, and offering his right to her.

She took it and pulled herself up, then promptly smoothed out her skirt, shook his still proffered hand, and introduced herself.

Unlike his messy untucked shirt, her uniform was pressed down to the socks and her shoes held no traces of mud. It gave her a calculating, and slightly cold aura, as if she was drawn with a set of rulers and a compass. She was probably more geometrical than anyone who had ever taken Care of Magical Creatures.

"Fred." he said, even though she knew.

"Well Fred, we will be working together on this Blast-Ended Skrewt for the next few weeks, so that 'ugly death trap’ is our son you're talking about." she chided with a smile that better belonged on a sly fox rather than a girl.

"You sound very attached to it." he shot back. An idea, a thought, a silver of a notion that this might be fun slithered along the floor of his skull.

"Him.” She corrected with her pointer finger in the air. “And it's called being a good parent." she lightly jabbed him in the chest.

"Okay then. Go pet your son." Fred smirked.

They turned toward the beast which was playing in the grass like a puppy. It seemed to be wiggling its tails.

Her eyes narrowed: "Which part is the head?"

"I don't know. We should probably figure it out, since the other side shoots flames." he said in an amused tone.

"It's supposed to be a sucker, so it might be the penis-looking side." he chuckled, but when she turned to stare at him expectantly, his red eyebrow jumped in question. A breeze ruffled their hair.

"Go on then, don't be shy, we need to compare." she said flatly.

He burst out laughing so hard, a few people around them turned to stare - quite a dangerous thing to do at the moment seeing as some of the beasts started snipping. A yelp sounded from afar, and Fred laughed even harder.

At least his partner is funny.

"Seriously though, this thing is going to fire-fart on us soon and we need to figure it out."

“You don’t feel better in nature?” her tone piqued as she turned the pages of a book. Their desk was covered with them, during the first of their many study meetings.

“No.” Fred played with his quill, spinning it through his fingers. “You do?”

“I feel clearer, especially near water.”, thump, she shut her book and discarded it.

“How come?” he balanced on the back legs of his chair, eyes darting around.

“I don’t know. It’s not a thing I question.”, flip, flip, flip, “It just lures me out of my head, and makes me feel a little more real, like I’m aware of my own existence. Sharper, yknow?”

Fred shook his head.

“I don’t have a need to get out of my head, it’s great in there.” he joked. She snorted and passed him a book with a piece of paper sticking out.

“Don’t you? You seem to be in there a lot though. I think you think too much.” Fred chukled, “That’s something I've never been told.”

“Then it’s about time.” she threw his way, but she had yet to look at him, Fred noted. The idea of her as geometrical played around in his head. “Try it next time. People exist a little sharper sometimes. It stops you from feeling like you’re going to float away.” her eyes finally flickered to him like two needles of her compasses, and shot him down. His chair hit the ground.

Before Fred had a chance to say something else or roll her idea around in his brain, she passed him a piece of parchment with a soft order to, “Write.”

His diagram of their unnamed child was much neater than hers, but his illegible handwriting distracted from it perfectly.

"That is not a t."she said, her hair almost electrified from stress-combing it with her hands.

"It's obviously a g." he chirped, but his tone sounded worn down all the same. She squinted at the paper with her mouth open for a moment, then gave up.

"How are you still this peppy?" she asked as her gaze lazily rolled itself away from the books. His tie was completely undone and being used as a bookmark, his shirt unbuttoned and ruffled like his hair, ha, carrot head!, but he took no note of it as he balanced on the back legs of his chair again. Every so often, a clank would sound amid their conversation when the chair struck against the stone floor and his feet hit the ground, before he leaned back again.

"What are you talking about? I'm knackered." he yawned.

She looked up, and her thoughts leaked out of her head. The scenery through the window behind him was gorgeous, lit on fire by the dusk— oversaturated reds and pinks which lined the dark purple clouds.

With a loud tap on the library floor, the front legs of Fred's chair touched the ground and his head covered the sun perfectly, giving him a golden lining and making his orange hair melt into the background. The clear lines of his face looked almost chiseled in contrast to the haziness behind him.

A weight settled in the center of her torso, an iron bowling ball rolling between her stomach and her heart. He was handsome. She knew this. But she used to know it the way one knows they should drink water when they’re thirsty. Knowing you needed it after you drink him in, swallow, and sign, is another story.

She felt a warm metal line grow out of her chest, like a vine towards the sunlight, enter his chest and settle.

For a few moments she imagined it. She tried to note the dragging sensation of warm iron and let herself be pulled to him. She imagined the ball rolling in his center, and all his squirming being in an attempt to adjust it instead of just staying awake.

Then she blinked. Took in the real scene. Despite being exhausted, she felt tranquil in their little corner filled with books and a few very ugly sketches. She picked one up.

“Are we allowed to call his head a dick?” She questioned, but Fred just yawned and shrugged. His chair tipped back again.

“You’ll hurt yourself.” She said flatly, words moving from line to line like trains with the shittiest track designs ever.

“The thrill keeps me awake.” he closed his eyes, hair still a burning red. She didn’t dare look at the Sun for too long. Her eyes tried to follow the words. The ball rolled.

He slid another sketch towards her. “I think we should use this one.”

She put the first one aside, their hands brushing as she took the new parchment. She heard the scraping of his chair on the floor as he moved closer until his collarbone pressed against her shoulder as he leaned over to point. The body heat he was emitting only reminded her of the weariness her body carried. It also refashioned her bowling ball into an anchor slowly sinking through her stomach, tickling her insides on the way down.

The sketch was neater and much simpler than others, no more than a handful of black lines on a yellowing parchment.

“This part is the head.” Fred pointed out. “I think. It looks weird and there isn’t exactly a good reference for a randomly cross-bred demon.” He seemed so focused on his drawing that she got the feeling he was avoiding her eyes intentionally. Stupid, really. They’re both just tired and have a lot of work.

Look at me.

He didn’t.

She banished all her stupid silly thoughts, and tried to turn to the books for the next few hours.

Fred stayed circling warmly on the edge of her orbit, moving around her but never looking, never acknowledging her as anything other than a voice and a pair of friendly working hands. The silly stupid thread she felt earlier vibrated. She didn't bring it up for fear they wouldn't finish all their work if she were to derail the conversation, so she waited until the end of their study session.

However, when the anticipated end neared, his chair hit the stone the last time and when she turned to him, Fred was lying on his arms on the table, asleep. His outline was as bright and as sharp as ever, but his face was soft and smooth from relaxation, like a marble statue melting. The anchor in her stomach lurch up at the sight, but she swallowed it down, smiled, and laid her head on the table too.

Another sunny afternoon had George almost skipping to his quirky partner. And Fred was glad, he liked to see his brother happy and loved teasing him for being in love even more — but he still hated the bloody beasts. He was thankful for George's efforts to cheer him up, but Fred refused to move out from under his personal gloomy cloud, choosing to carry it alone instead, the way one would an umbrella.

As soon as George mentions his partner, he knows it's time to leave him to his beloved, as he does, with minimal mocking involved (—but come on!).

As Fred approached her, he saw her roll her eyes. Funny. Something about knowing she's as un-excited as he is made his chest swell up with what can only be described as the sudden understanding of the real depth of companionship between you and a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend. I might not like this, but I am not alone.

"They're four feet long already. Your future sister-in-law," said his partner, gesturing to George's love with her head, at which Fred smiled warmly, "said we only get to work with them for another class. I think she might cry." His clouds stopped thundering.

"Don't be rude." he replied but did not sound angry in the least.

"I'm not. She's a nice girl and God bless her for being passionate about this. We need people like her, otherwise the rest of us would have to care as well." she reasoned.

"There's that warm and welcoming Slytherin care I've heard all about." he said sarcastically.

"Rude. Gingers truly are soulless." Fred got nudged in the ribs.

"Oi!"

"Oi yourself!" she flipped her hair and flashed her foxy smile. No, it's fox-like. "Don't start things you can't finish."

"Well, I'm ready to be done with this thing." he looked pointedly at the snapping creature reaching out to them like a baby in a cot.

They received their instructions from Hagrid to feed, entertain, and check the health of the creature and set off to work. After a few minutes of silence, Fred spoke.

"I think there's something wrong with this thing." he squinted.

"Him." She corrected, "He's our son."

"Well I think our son is pregnant." Fred’s face soured.

“No way." she replied, kneeling closer to the beast than she'd ever dared before. "How do you know?"

"A hunch?" Fred shrugged his very nicely shaped shoulders. No! "I'm not sure. It did eat three times as much as the others. It should be a lot fatter."

"He." She absent-mindedly corrected, trying to get a good enough look.

"He doesn't look sick but he's being weird." he squatted next to her, bouncing on his heels.

"Maybe he's lonely. We both ditched a few times." She bumped her knee into his. "I dare you to touch him."

Fred laughed as he turned to her. "I'm not that commited of a father. You do it."

"Why me? You need to do something too!" she whined as their son approached in a rather puppy-like gait, as if he was going to rub against their legs, and Fred's gaze slipped off her, like that day in the library.

"I'll do whatever you want.” he paused "Within reason, of course."

"Touch him."

"Within reason."

"Fine." their dark-shelled son stood before them now, but they were not as hesitant this time. The beast looked at Fred with either his head or his stinger (how is it still not clear?).

Slowly and shakily, her hand reached out. She almost withdrew it, but it already made contact with their son's back and he made a sound similar to purring, which was both surprising and unsettling. Her face bent in disgust as her entire palm pressed against his black shell, gleaming maroon in the sunlight.

"Ew. He's slimy." she detached her hand to see a catran-like substance coating it. "How is he slimy?"

Fred's nose was scrunched as well but an amused gleam flickered on his face nonetheless. “Disgusting.”

"Well, I did it." she complained, trying to wipe her hand on his arm, but he rose to his feet quickly, laughing.

“Keep that to yourself.” Fred warned, trying to avoid her swift attempts to use him as a rag.

“Come on!” She whined. “We’re in this together. If I have to be gross then so do you.” she jumped up after Fred.

He felt weightless as he maneuvered around her and the clawing beast that still purred by their feet, and he realized how warm the sunlight was. His little cloud was gone. In that distracted second of their impromptu three-creature quickstep, she wrapped her clean hand around his hand and pulled herself closer to him.

She grinned from ear to ear, and Fred felt her wet, cold hand sliding down his shoulder. She wiped a few times down his arm and chest with a wickedly satisfied look in her face as he wondered why he didn’t mind it so much. His eyes danced over her face the way his trainers had over the grass mere seconds ago.

“What?” she asked. Wait, she was speaking.

“Um, nothing.” his face rearranged itself from a goofy smile (What?) and he looked at his stained shirt. Before he even had time to comment, her voice made the center of his stomach tighten.

“Do you think he'd lick one if she asked?” Fred followed her gaze to George, looking as dreamy as his partner who was purring back at their Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sunlight covered them too.

Her hand still held onto him.

Fred sighed, both amused and lightheaded from a new discovery threatening to unveil its face in his mind. George laughed so loudly it reached Fred’s ears, and he responded, “Yes.”

“Would you lick one for me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“Absolutely not.” he said without missing a beat.

“What kind of a father won't even lick his own son?” she put a hand on her chest, faux-horrified.

“I still think our son is pregnant.” he said, grinning at her.

“What kind of a father won't lick his own pregnant son?” she humored.

“You're making this worse than it has to be.”

Her eyebrow rose as she offered: “You can always do this alone?”

“No.” something ugly and covered in spikes spun in Fred's stomach.

“Well then,” she said smugly, as if she knew, “you need to start cooperating.” She tugged on his arm with her hand that was there the whole time. Her arm slid around his as she pulled him along, and Fred adjusted his collar with his fingers. When did they get so far away from the group?

“You don’t pet him, you don’t groom him with your tongue like a cat, what do you do? I haven’t seen you change a single diaper!” she over-exaggerated. “I’m basically a single mother!”

He laughed and apologized, feeling lighter and sharper than he had all day.

His future sister-in-law was wrong. They worked on their loving, puppy-like hell scorpions for three more classes, and had another one in a classroom, correcting their essays. During that class, they found out that their son really was pregnant, at which they laughed all the way to the Great Hall.

Fred felt something heavy rolling over his intestines when he thought of the end. It wound itself around his organs until his lips dropped. Nevertheless, he grinned at George (who definitely saw through him), and, with his chin up like a proud lion, departed from him to sit next to his partner, one last time.

He thought about her more often than he expected to, and he feared he might have to stop soon.

As he slid next to her, his metaphorical tail curled closer to him. She beamed brightly at him, and offered her closed fist.

“You ready, partner?”

No, he curled his fingers with a smile, I don’t think I am, and bumped their hands together.

“Doesn’t have to end? Didn't you listen?” she asked him incredulously as he caught up with her. He couldn’t say he has, as his ears buzzed deafeningly loudly since they received their O.

Maybe she had a point when she said there were moments when people felt more defined as he was more sure than ever that he existed in the corridor leading to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, as his limbs filled with lead at the way she spoke.

“I just thought if you—” his mouth shit on its own. “You know—”

“Holy shit, you really didn’t listen?” but this time she laughed. “Hagrid said we can pick our own partners for the next project.” Her arm curled around his own, “So unless you want to dump me, we march on.”

Whatever heavy thing has been making his stomach a winter home the past week flew off to their summer residence.

She definitely had a point about grounded moments, because when her hand squeezed his arm, the lead leaked out and the awareness of every part of his body slammed into focus.

And Fred smiled back.

She smiled promisingly at him, his heart stuttered, and his sneakers sunk into the stone beneath him.

#fred weasley #fanfic #fred weasley x reader #hp fanfic

119 notes · View notes

ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

Under The Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part 2 // Itachi

Itachi Uchiha

Itachi stands under the little green plant, looking unsettled. It was explained to him that this is “just a fun game” but this just seems weird to him. However he doesn’t wish to alienate himself from the group, so he complies.

Deidara

His first instinct is to pull a bomb from his pocket and hurl it straight at Itachi’s lips, because “that’s the only ‘kiss’ the Uchiha bastard deserves, hm!” However he’s talked out of it by Konan who tells him that such a thing would make him a really bad sport. He scowls but accepts it. Itachi murmurs softly “You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t wish, Deidara.”; he says it nicely, but Deidara hears it as a challenge. “Ah?! You think I’m scared? You think I won’t kiss you?!” He rushes at Itachi, leans in, and kisses him so aggressively that he accidentally bonks Itachi’s forehead a good one, raising a small bump for both of them. Itachi will just sigh (he really doesn’t understand why, even after all this time, Deidara still seems to hate him so much) and quietly say “Thanks.” Deidara will react immediately, going “Thanks? What the hell are you thanking me for, Uchiha? Don’t tell me you’re in love with me now?” and he’ll keep teasing the brunette until Sasori comes and drags him away.

Sasori

Another person to kiss? Really? Sasori never kissed anyone other than his parents before his transformation, but now it’s gotten out of hand. Nevertheless ... he leans up and gives Itachi a quick peck to the lips. Itachi doesn’t react but Sasori draws back, startled. What is this?? As someone who grew up with a knowledge of herbs and healing, and as someone who makes his own poisons, Sasori has become an expert at identifying various chemicals by a simple taste. But Itachi’s lips tasted ... strange. Something unidentifiable, but Sasori recognizes as dangerous. Itachi is ill; his chemical balance is completely off. A moment passes between them where Sasori almost opens his mouth and questions this, but the look in Itachi’s eyes tell Sasori that he’s very aware that he’s sick ... but intends to do nothing about it. It makes Sasori feel a great deal of sadness; Itachi is a calm, intelligent young man, and a good friend ... but this is his choice. Hidan is nearby and he sees the way Sasori and Itachi are staring at each other, and misinterprets it, saying loudly “Looks like these two went totally gay for each other!”; Sasori lashes out and hits him with a poison dart. After all, no amount of poison will make the white haired nuisance die; but maybe it’ll shut him up for a while.

Hidan

LOUDLY protests against kissing Itachi. He was fine with it when it was Konan, but this ... “I don’t wanna make out with this ugly-ass homo!” But the others tell him he has to. He’ll go into Kakuzu’s room and get his Sake, taking several healthy swigs before coming back out to where Itachi waits. The alcohol hitting him in full effect ((it was clearly more than a FEW swigs)) and starts telling Itachi some pretty awkward things (“Damn wait you’re actually kinda hot; with that long hair you kinda look like a bitch.”) and, grabbing hold of Itachi’s neck, pulls him close and plants a very sloppy open-mouthed kiss on him. The others make noises of disgust; alcohol or not he took it way too far. Hidan has the audacity to try and go for a second kiss before Kakuzu extends his tentacles and grabs him, dragging him away. The others ask Itachi if he minds going to brush his teeth before they have their turns, to which he heartily agrees.

Kakuzu

Two people in and this “game” has already gotten on his nerves. But he likes Itachi; he’s one of the few he’s never had an issue or an argument with. A kiss on the lips would have been beyond strange, so he settles on a light brush on Itachi’s forehead. The others tease him, but Itachi actually enjoyed the gesture; being kissed on the forehead reminded him of the one time in Itachi’s life that his own father did the same, after Itachi successfully learned a new jutsu. It’s a nostalgic feeling and a comforting one, which Itachi will hold on to for the rest of the day. Kakuzu, however, has slightly different feelings. As somebody who knows extensive medical jutsu, he took note of how overly warm Itachi’s forehead was. That, and, looking closely, the pronounced flush of his cheeks. It’s somewhat obvious that Itachi is sick; but Kakuzu has always seen the kid as capable of taking care of himself, so he won’t question Itachi on whatever may be wrong with him. He does, however, make a mental note to start slipping a herbal immune system booster into the tea that Itachi drinks so often.

Konan

Like Itachi did for her, Konan gives Itachi a warm hug, rather than a kiss. Her arms circled around his waist make her aware of how thin he is, how young. It’s so difficult for her to believe that somebody who possesses Itachi’s raw intelligence hasn’t even seen his 25th year of life yet. She tries several times during the embrace to let go, but Itachi is reluctant to release her. As with Kakuzu, Konan’s warmth reminds him of being hugged by his mother, something that he greatly misses. Eventually he does let go, only this time he follows up the hug by kissing HER, gently, on the cheek.

Tobi

“Hiya, Itachi-san! Is it Tobi’s turn to give you a kissy?” Itachi merely nods and watches Tobi approach. Unlike with any of the others, Itachi tenses up, and he has to fight himself on the urge to activate his sharingan. Something about Tobi, this tall, simplistic, childlike fool ... sets off ALL of Itachi’s warning bells. As with Konan, Tobi starts to remove his mask just enough to expose his lips ... but Itachi abruptly holds up his hand, stopping him. “No,” Itachi says quietly, and instead extends his arm for a handshake. Itachi can feel the energy coming off of Tobi; Itachi’s unexpected gesture has left the masked one a mixture of surprise, fear, and ... anger. But Tobi can’t afford to show this, to everyone else in the room who are already confused watching them. “Awww; are ya shy, Itachi-san?”, he’ll ask out-loud, before pumping Itachi’s hand up and down in an exaggerated gesture. He’ll walk away calmly, but inside, he’ll be in turmoil; because in those brief few seconds, Tobi has been able to sense it: Itachi had come within a hair of trying to kill him. Could it be that he’d figured out — but no. No, no. Surely just a mistake, right? Maybe Itachi really WAS shy, and by the time it was Tobi’s turn, his tolerance limits had been reached. A plausible explanation ... but was it the right one?

Zetsu

He sees Itachi standing under the mistletoe and thinks to himself, that man looks delicious. He’s eaten a lot of people in his time, but never once somebody who possessed the sharingan. Would that visual prowess make the meat taste better? His mouth starts to water; Itachi is fairly young and therefore should be soft and delectable. He stands there staring at Itachi until somebody (likely Kisame) asks him what’s up with that weird look on his face. Not wanting the others to think he’s any more of a freak than they already do, he steps up and kisses Itachi’s cheek — and takes the opportunity to flick out his tongue and lick the man’s skin. Saltier than expected, but warm, with a faint scent of tea. He quickly walks away before he loses control, and goes out into the night to find others to fulfill his awakened appetite.

Pein

Pein welcomed Itachi into the Akatsuki when the latter was still a very young man. Over the past few years he’s watched the way he’s grown and matured, and he’s come to think of him almost as one would think of a son. Pein will smooth Itachi’s hair back and lightly kiss his forehead, and then lightly pat his head, before going on his way.

Kisame

He sees Itachi standing there, and his heart jumps into his throat. Itachi ... is a level of light and of perfection that someone like Kisame doesn’t dare to touch. He stands back and watches the others have their turns. He’s gotten to know this man pretty closely these past few years, and can often tell what he’s thinking or feeling just by glancing at his face. Right now, what Itachi was feeling, was Patience. The kissing game is just another thing he’s enduring, not particularly liking or disliking it, simply getting through. Kisame thinks that he should spare Itachi and go quietly to his room, so that Itachi can return to his own. But Itachi sees Kisame start to walk away, and actually calls out to him, stopping him. Hearing his name makes Kisame’s heart thump even faster. But WHY? Itachi was simply his young friend, for goodness sake. An intelligent, thoughtful partner. A — “Hey shark man, you gonna slobber on red-eyes here or what?” Kisame glares at Hidan before walking quickly up to Itachi, he takes a deep breath and leans in to kiss his cheek— but Itachi turns his head at the last second, and Kisame finds their lips are touching. Kisame is not sure of how much time is passing; the clock seems to stand still for this moment. Itachi’s lips are as soft as flower petals, his hair smooth and silky as it brushes against Kisame’s cheek. Itachi eventually breaks the kiss, and, to Kisame’s shock, he’s smiling. Not the smirks or grins that Kisame has come to know, but a real, tooth-bearing smile. Seeing that expression makes Itachi look younger than ever to him, and Kisame ... feels flustered. Although there’s no reason to feel flustered. He’d only shared a kiss with his friend, that’s all. Both of them look at each other a few moments longer and then Itachi, his “sentence” over, says his Goodnights to the members and goes to his room. Eventually Kisame (and everyone else) does the same.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kissing #itachi uchiha #tobi #zetsu #konan #pein #kisame #hidan #kakuzu #deidara #sasori

49 notes · View notes

themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

The Queen’s Lynchpin

We’re getting to part 3 of the ‘Successors of the Future”! This week has gone back to being hectic so I could only write this part here and there for only a few hours. Still, I’m happy that I could finally finish it.

And we have the names of MC’s and Yandere!Malleus children as well as his second wife and the other prince! Any piece of info from @tri3tri Second Wife AU is always fun to read! With that said, I’ll be adding their names into the 2 previous oneshots after this is posted so it’s all align. If you want to know more about this AU, please drop by at @tri3tri blog. Their content and drabbles are amazing!

Lastly, I think it’s alright if I don’t add the link and summary of the previous oneshots of this series in every new piece. The intro is just gonna be super long otherwise. But if you guys think that a link and summary it’s a good, please let me know I’ll be sure to add them in.

“Uh Mama? Have you been hearing... noises in the middle of the night?”

“You mean your sister talking to her mirror in her room in the dead of the night? Then yes, sweetie.”

MC smile, deeply amused, when her son let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s just her talking to Ren.”

“I’ll tell her to keep it down if she’s talking to Renata at night, don’t worry.” MC assured him with a pat on his head.

“Thanks, Mama. Say, do you have any plans for today?” Lucien’s sudden question was a little odd to MC. The three of them have been staying in the house - only going out for a grocery run - lately, and she didn’t have any plans to change it.

“Not really. I was thinking to catch up with some leftover work from the office before Monday comes. Why? Do you want to go anywhere?” MC inquire curiously.

Lucien is quick to shake his head. “Oh, no, no. Umm... Mama, you often look so sad lately. We know that having Ren away at Twisted Wonderland has been hard on you, so I just thought maybe we could all do something to help make you feel better.” He explains with a bit of hesitance, wringing his hands. It’s clear to MC that this is one sensitive topic that he didn’t want to unintentionally hurt her with.

MC couldn’t help but smile at how thoughtful her little one is. Really, all of her children can be rowdy in their own way but at the end of the day, she always noticed that they tried so hard not to make her worry. But as the parent, it’s her honour to protect her children - not the other way around. Which is why seeing the hesitant expression on Lucien’s face tugs her heart.

“Oh, Luci. I didn’t mean to worry you and your sisters. It’s just that...” MC paused for a moment to think on how to properly express her feelings. “None of you has ever been separated from me. The issue with your father is one thing, but I can’t help but fret about your oldest sister. Is she eating well over there? Sleeping early on a school day? Oh, but then again, she does have a habit of waking up around 2 in the morning looking for a snack if she sleeps too early.” MC bit her lower lip, she should have told Renata during their last talk to keep some snacks in her room in case she gets hungry.

Ever since Renata had first contacted Sherrie and taught her the communication runes and she in return, taught her and Lucien on how to draw them on any mirror in the house, they all have been talking to Renata through the large, hanging mirror in the living room every day.

“We can ask her if she’s been waking up in the middle of night after our dinner, Mama.” Lucien assured their mother. He took her empty tea cup and pour some tea from the still hot pot and push the porcelain cup back to her. They were having tea and a light meal in the kitchen after he had woken up from his nap.

Sherrie passed on their invitation since she’s too busy livestreaming her latest game in her room. From below, they could hear her muffled voice.

MC took a sip and hums thoughtfully. “You’re right, Honey. I’ll be sure to do that. Anyway, you mentioned a family activity - what do you have in mind?” Perhaps a distraction is just what she needed to get her mind off Malleus and the inevitable danger he’ll bring.

Lucien’s eyes brighten in delight. Happy that he could do something to cheer her up.

“I found this recipe recently and I was hoping that we can all cook together? It’ll be fun I promise!” He pleaded. Among all her children, Lucien is the only one with the knack for cooking. Sherrie can make simple meals whenever she wants.

Renata, however, needs to be supervised even if she wants to boil a pot of water.

“Sure! I’d love to. So what’s this recipe you want to cook?”

Much later when it’s almost dinner time and Sherrie wrapped up her livestream, MC and Lucien are already in the kitchen preparing to cook. Curiously, she glances at the list of ingredients and steps for dinner that was left on the kitchen counter and her eyes bugged out at what they were going to make.

“I feel like there are things that mankind should never attempt lest the price be their sanity. And this? This is it!” Sherrie shrieked, flapping the flimsy paper incredulously at them. MC is preparing the dough while Lucien makes sure they got all the ingredients out and ready.

“What? Boba pizza sounds delicious!” Lucien rebuke with a small frown. “And beside, you won’t know if you like them if you haven’t try.”

Sherrie just slap her forehead at his words, as if she couldn’t believe this. “I know you’re pretty crazy for boba teas but this is ridiculous! Pizza dessert for dinner? Can’t we have something normal, Mama?” She pleaded their mother.

MC toss her a playful smile as she rolls the dough. “Well honey, it does sound pretty exciting when you said it. Pizza dessert!” When Sherrie’s face scrunched up in disgust, she tries to coax her daughter, “Aww, c’mon, honey. Look, you can order a delivery for yourself but come have fun with us! I’ll even let you toss the dough if you want.”

Sherrie folded after that. Honestly, making pizza - of any kind - is always messy process, but her children are having fun with smudges of powder on their faces and MC felt her heart lighten just hearing them laugh. Dinner might be unconventional tonight, but it was worth it to see Lucien enjoy eating his pizza and Sherrie reluctant admittance that it tasted alright, if a bit weird.

Once the kitchen is all cleaned up and their stomachs full, they settled in the living room. MC and Lucien watched as Sherrie used her old, red lipstick to draw the runes on the mirror. The surface rippled once, sinking the runes and reveal Renata in her pyjamas beaming at them.

“Good evening everyone! How are ya’ll doing?”

“Hi sweetie. We just had dinner.” MC said, glad that her eldest daughter still looks healthy and happy.

“You wouldn’t believe what we had for dinner.” Sherrie interjects dryly. The 3 of them are sitting on the couch with MC in the middle. “It’s so weird!”

“But you liked it!” Lucien countered with a smug grin before turning to his oldest sister. “We had boba pizza! It was amazing!”

“Boba pizza!? Nooo! I can’t believe you all ate them without me! I’ve been wanting to try them!” Renata whines. “I wish we can pass stuffs through the mirror. Wait - I might be able to do something about that actually.” She goes on to mutter about needing to bully the headmaster again.

The family traded what they did during the day, Renata assuring them that yes, she had a storage full of snacks in her room and that her favourite lesson so far is Flying class. Once that’s out of the way, MC asked her daughter, “How are your assignments? Is Leona-senpai’s son helping you out?”

When Renata told them that her History’s assignment partner is none other than Leona’s son, MC was a bit worried if he carries his father prejudice against Malleus towards her daughter, but Renata assured her that other than his funny attempts at posturing and warning growls, Bakari Kingscholar has been nothing but civil and helping out with researching and editing their papers.

“Yup! We’re nearly done with our homework and I think we’re friends now? He’s a bit of tsundere which makes teasing him so much fun!” Renata giggled. “You know, just today we decided to have lunch together after our assignment and when I went back to my room and check my bag, there was a candy bar inside. He must’ve slip it in when I told him that I snacked often.”

Sherrie immediately drop her phone. She was mindlessly browsing through her Twitter account while they talked, but her attention perk like a hound dog. “Whoa, whoa wait - he bought you food when you told him that you eat often? Me thinks he might like you, dude.”

MC’s eyes widen and Lucien gape. Could that be true!?

But Renata just rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I think he was thanking me for not making him do all the work. You know those tough guy acts? Yeah, it’s nothing special.”

Sherrie tilt her head, clearly not believing it, but keep it to herself for now.

“Being the only girl in a school for boys must be tough.” Lucien mused sympathetically. “I’m glad that you have a friend with you, Ren.”

“Well, Diasomnia students has mostly been friendly yet distant with me so far. Probably because of this,” Renata twirl her fingers beside her horns to emphasise her point. “But it’s cool. So far, no one tries to bully me or anything. And by the way, I’ve been staying out of trouble, Cherry. I haven’t even landed myself in detention so far.” She proudly announced.

“Yet.” Sherrie snickers.

Lucien frowns at her. “Ren has been working hard, Cherry. She’s been sticking to your plans, right? I seriously don’t think she will mess it up.”

“Nah, it’s all cool Luci. I’ve mostly been blowing off steam during Magishift. It’s super fun! I wish you guys could play too.” Renata said and then proceed to explain to her siblings what Magishift is all about.

That’s another thing that MC had picked up as Lucien grew up. Despite how close her daughters are, they do bickers as sisters tend to and Lucien usually act as the mediator and peacemaker between them when things get too heated.

MC couldn’t help wonder if her sweet boy would ever be like this if he was raised in Malleus’ castle.

The family talked a little more until it was getting late. After bidding each other goodnight and MC telling her daughter to keep herself safe, she ushered Lucien and Sherrie to their bed and tucked herself in.

That night, she dreamt of a past memory. However in her dream, all 3 of her children are laughing and free as they grow in her world.

Now that Lucien thinks about it - he doesn’t really know what Sherrie plan is exactly. He’s aware that they’re doing their best to help Renata avoid being discover by their father as long as they can and Mama told her to make friends with the children of her old friends since they helped her out a lot during her school life in Night Raven College but other than that? He doesn’t know what they would do once father found out about their oldest sister.

That particular though came back in his mind when he woke up from his sleep because he heard Sherrie giggling in her room. With blearily eyes, he checked the time on his phone and groan.

It’s 3.15 in the morning.

He push himself out of his warm bed with great difficulties and slowly padded towards Sherrie’s bedroom.

He knocked twice and groan, “Sherrie? It’s seriously late. Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”

“Shit, Luci-chan? Sorry, did I woke you up? You can come in if you want. The door is not locked.”

With a tired grumbled, he swings open the door and zombie-walk to her sister who is sitting in front of her vanity table, talking to Renata.

“Hey Luci! Sorry that we woke you up!” Renata apologised quickly, guilty that they’ve disturbed their little brother. “I was just reporting to Cherry that I found several hidden and unmarked paths that connects to father’s castle and to the outside world of the Valley of Thorns. I thought it might come in handy so I wanted to share it with her.”

That sounds interesting to Lucien. He’s a little more awake now. “Did you use your spells to scout the area?”

“I sure did! Haven’t been caught by anyone or any bat so far.”

“What... what does father’s castle look like?” Lucien couldn’t help but asked. It’s hard to believe that he and his family are actually royalty. That his Mama and sisters used to live in a castle.

It’s still hard to accept that he’s actually a prince.

“Gloomy.” Was Renata immediate reply. All her previous good humour vanishes and her hard glare surprises him. “We hardly get any sunshine because father controls the weather with his temper tantrums.”

“Not to mention that we had to live with basically strangers.” Sherrie added. “I never really feel comfortable around the castle’s staffs. Sure we got the family wing all to ourselves but we still had to deal with them.” Both Lucien and Renata understand her unspoken words: having to deal with judgemental strangers is difficult.

“What are you going to do once father founds out you’re in Twisted Wonderland, Ren? Are you going to go hiding?” Lucien asked.

It’s Sherrie who answered him, “No. We’re going to make sure that he can’t forcefully take Mama or any of us back to the castle. I just need a little more info and we can act once the 3 of us are in Twisted Wonderland.” She explains.

“We suspect that once Cherry hits sixteen, the Ebony Carriage will also pick her up and by that time I’ll be in my second year as a student here. If that’s the case, we just need you here and then it’s the second phase.” Renata took over explaining here. “Rumours spread fast in Night Raven College, but it’s not going to reach to father. He’s in an isolated country. Well, not until he’s here.”

Lucien blink, now lost. “He? Who’s he?”

“We have a halfbrother - Victor. He’s the same age as you, Luci-chan. Looks like father didn’t waste any time getting his second wife pregnant.” Sherrie said with a smile that honestly send cold shivers up his spine. It’s sweet with a poison laced underneath. Lucien seen this smile only once. A girl from school tried to blackmailed and bullied her into doing her biddings.

He heard that the girl was transferred to another school in a different state soon after when news broke out that she was selling drugs with her boyfriend to the students.

Lucien would like to believe that the incident had nothing to with his sister, but he’s seen what she does for Renata whenever she lost her homework or to the English Literature teacher that had an issue with her.

So Lucien needed to asks this. “Are you... are you going to hurt him?” His voice is soft and careful.

Through the mirror, Renata eyed Sherrie in which his second sister leans into her chair and relaxes. “I won’t, don’t worry. After all, he’s not at fault.”

Words are Sherrie’s favourite playthings and at that moment, Lucien hopes she means it.

Funny enough, I’ve been calling S/N (Lucien) as Luciel because it means light and I HC that MC sees him as the unexpected light that Malleus gave her. Her daughters are a treasure but Lucien serve as MC’s light. It’s fate!

So far for Lucien, my main reference for him are two people actually. Dead Master from Black Rock Shooter and Nisha Labyrinth from Elsword!

Will expand more on them as I continue to write. Also, I’m shit when it comes to timeline and ages so here’s my rough idea so far:

Renata = 16 years old (first-year student)

Sherrie = 15 years old

Lucien = 13 yeard old

I’ll change the kids’ age if Tri reveal them on their blog.

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #twst mc #malleus draconia x mc #twst kids #Malleus and MC kids #yandere malleus draconia #Draconia Family series #Second Wive AU

172 notes · View notes

officialleehadan · 3 years

Text

Solar Safe

Hello darlings! Are you enjoying spring? I certainly am!

Today's story was brought to you by Stella! Darling, This was such fun to write. thanks for prompting it!

Prompt: a continuation of Lady of the Kitchens

+++

Cyra would have preferred her godsons didn’t hear, or in Imlyn’s case see, what she did to the men who had hurt them. After all, they were young, and there were some things that left a permanent mark.

Of course, they also had the resolute comfort of knowing that their attackers were most entirely dead, which was a reassurance Cyra herself often leaned on when her past came knocking on her nightmares late at night.

“Keep your eyes closed, youngling,” she told Phylin when she was done with the would-be attackers. He was too big for her to carry these days, but she kept an arm around his shoulders as she pulled him out from under the table. Imlyn was a little slower, but he was fourteen, and nursing a bad arm, with a beating on top of it. Cyra felt old, familiar fury spark over her magic and took a steadying breath. The men were dead, and her godsons were safe. “follow my hands. We’re going up into your mother’s solar.”

“Alright,” Phylin whispered, shaken to the bone by the screams of the men Cyra took apart to save him. Ge was a good lad, and Cyra was glad when they were out of the kitchens. “Can I- you’re our godmother?”

“You two are the best gift anyone ever gave to me. You can open your eyes now, by the way,” Cyra told him with a reassuring smile to Imlyn, who leaned on her and stumbled like he was drunk. Shock was a hell of a thing, and he probably wouldn’t be on his feet for long. Cyra caught the eye of her scullery maids and nodded once when one of her bakers, a stout man named Nolan, came over to help. “Imlyn, lean on Nolan, he’s going to help you. The rest of you, there’s a mess in the kitchens. See to it, and scrub everything down to the stone.”

“Yes Cyra,” they chorused, more than one of them hard-eyed and angry. They all loved the princes, and many of them had histories as rough as Cyra’s own, although admittedly, not on such a large or violent stage as hers had once been. They would handle the bodies in the kitchen with the appropriate lack of respect for those who came to hurt their boys.”

The matter settled, Cyra ushered the boys and Nolan up to the solar, gave Nolan a firm nod of approval for getting Imlyn to a couch, and sent him off again for the castle’s healer. She hoped that the men in the kitchen were all of the attackers, but if they weren’t, Riala’s solar was well-armored in magic, and well-stocked in weapons. Cyra could hold back an army in the doorway with the armaments that hid in this brightly-lit, comfortable room.

“Auntie, what wasthat?” Phylin asked, shaken and tucked under his brother’s good arm. Imlyn was still ghost-pale, but he seemed to be alright other than some bruises and his bad arm. Cyra knelt before him and checked over his ribs professionally, just in case. He flinched when she found bruises, but sighed when she decided that he had avoided any broken ribs. “You- you killed those men.”

“And I would kill a great many more if they’re fool enough to come for you again,” Cyra told him seriously. Finished with her quick examination, and aware of Imlyn watching her, she sat back on her heels. He had always been a clever boy and he was old enough to understand just how lethal she was to be able to drop so many men with no effort. “Your parents aren’t the only one with a long history, dear one. I’m retired, but that doesn’t mean I forgot who I once was.”

She pushed herself to her feet, cursed her aging knees, and made for the hidden panel in the solar that contained a weapon she hoped to never touch again. Riala had insisted they keep it, although Cyra thought they should have the blade destroyed. Now she was glad she bowed to the wishes of her dearest friend. The panel popped open under her touch, and she reached inside. Cool stone and cool leather meat her reaching fingers, and she curled her hand around a hilt that she knew better than her own name.

After all, it wasn’t everyone who could wield the Blood-Quenched Sword.

It wasn’t cursed, which was frankly a surprise considering how much death it had seen, but it was heavily enchanted, and as the name implied, it likedto draw blood. The blade of it was made of folded steel, and dyed deep red, with a burning core down the center. The stone of the hilt had been white when Cyra first came to wield it, but the white stone slowly darkened with the blood of thousands until it was nearly black.

She hoped to never hold it again, but for her godsons, she would wear it happily.

Sword on her hip, at odds with the comfortable working drss she wore in the kitchens, she turned back to her godsons. They were watching her curiously, but she was glad to see no hint of fear in their eyes. A knock on the door announced Nolan, and the castle’s healer, Talla, was behind him. Talla went to work. Imlyn’s arm was badly dislocated, but not broken, and Talla was kind enough to brush away his bruises while she was at it.

When she stepped inside, she gave Cyra a faint smile, and a nod of respect. Like Cyra’s kitchen-workers, Talla knew Cyra’s history. She also recognized the sword at Cyra’s hip, and understood why Cyra would take it up again.

Talla loved the boys too.

“The castle is clear,” Nolan reported while Talla worked on Imlyn. “Don’t know who they were, but there weren’t many of them. Snuck in, went for the princes. You know how it ended.”

“I do,” Cyra agreed quietly. She made sure the boys were occupied with Talla for a moment, and closed her fingers on a spark of magic. When she opened them again, it was to reveal a communication spell like those she once used to command an army. Moments later, it shimmered and vivid blue magic shot through the almost-black green of her own. The sparks came together in a burst as the spell connected to the intended target. “Riala, there’s been an attack. The boys are safe. I’m with them.”

The queen, whose mouth was open to ask why Cyra would call her so suddenly, closed with a snap that Cyra could almost feel. A moment later, Thalis, the boys’ father, crowded close enough to share the spell with his wife. Cyra obligingly turned her hand so they could see their sons, safe and whole.

“What happened?” Riala asked anxiously. She trusted Cyra beyond anyone but Thalis, but she was a mother, and Cyra wouldn’t call for anything less than an emergency. “You have blood on your cheek. Who died?”

“Someone tried for the boys. I stepped in,” Cyra summed up the situation and pulled out her handkerchief to deal with the blood. She wasn’t sure which of the men it belonged to, and eyed her blood-spattered apron with some regret. She had liked this one. It was embroidered with kitchen herbs. Now it was soaked in blood, which rarely came out once it dried there. Maybe she could get one of the castle tailors to dye it for her to hide the stains. “Imlyn was hurt. Talla has already seen to him, and he’s fine. Phylin is scared. Will you be able to portal home?”

“I sent for a mage as soon as your spell came through,” Riala promised. Her cheeks had gone ashy with fear for her boys, and what could have happened if Cyra hadn’t been there. “You’re wearing your sword?”

“Retrieved it as soon as we reached the solar. Haven’t had to draw it. Turns out a cast-iron pan works just as well to kill a man.”

“You’ve always been inventive, dark sister. We’ll be home as soon as the portal is up.”

“I’ll hold the castle until you’re here,” Cyra promised her with a smile that probably wouldn’t be reassuring to anyone but Riala. The queen, however, knew exactly what Cyra could do, and what she would do, to protect the boys. “Hurry back. I imagine the questions will start in a minute, and I don’t want to tell the story until you and Thalis are here to remind them that I didn’t actually kill you both.”

“You tried a few times,” Riala said with a chuckle, her eyes on her boys behind Cyra. “But you came around.”

“You gave me a family to fight for,” Cyra reminded her fondly. “Your portal will be up in a minute. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be here to hug them yourself.”

+++

What Once Was:

Cyra is a cook. Unfortunately for everyone but her family, she used to be a great many other things, and not all of them were peaceful.

Lady of the Kitchens

Solar Safe

+++

MASTERLIST

+++

33 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Twin snowflakes part 24: Date Night.

Part 23 here! <-

Still exhausted, Veronica flopped back onto her bed with the help of Nick. The girl let the mattress steal all tension from her body, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “Aaahhhh! That’s the stuff. Appreciate the help.”

“Don’t mention it. Especially after what you just did. Frankly I had no plan to get Summer to cooperate.”

Veronica chuckled the best she could. “Hehe, not often Nicholas Schnee doesn’t have a plan. I guess you owe me then? Lucky for you I take words of affirmation as payment all the time.”

Nick smiled. It was nice to see Veronica joking. Encountering Shiva always put a dread over him, but she seemed to not care much. That’s Veronica alright, refusing to take crap from anybody. “I could praise you, or how about I praise you over a nice dinner?” Nick quickly responded.

All the neurons in Veronica’s brain suddenly came to a screeching halt. Her body immediately came flinging forward to sit upright to stare at the smiling boy. “What…?” She asked, still processing the question.

“Let me take you dinner.” He said again, “I have a reservation at this place in Atlas tonight. I was gonna cancel but we could just have a night out together. You still haven’t tried much food from here right? Plus I know you still have to be hungry. This works out.”

Veronica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did Nick just ask her out on a dinner date? That didn’t sound right, even if it was a thank you gift. As quickly as her eyes lit up, they began to squint at him with skepticism. “What happened with Valerie?”

Now his eyes got big. He wasn’t expecting that response. “Uhhhh what?” His voice gave away his nervousness and Veronica could clearly tell.

“Don’t play dumb with me Nick. I’m not gonna call you a liar or anything, but I know you, and you know me; as well as my feelings.” She said that last part sheepishly. “You aren’t the kind of person to play with my emotions or offer a dinner date when you’re crushing on Val, so what’s up? Be straight with me”

It was becoming clear to Nick that he apparently could be read like a book. This is the third person within twenty four hours to look at him and automatically knew to ask about Valerie. This was ridiculous! His life had many things that made him bummed out. How are people guessing right on the first try!?”

“Uhhhhh” he scratched the back of his head and sighed. No point tip toeing around it. Not like it was a secret or anything, yet his stomach felt queasy all the same. “I ran into her yesterday. She was pretty upset that I didn’t tell her I got sick. I apologized and tried to smooth our recent bickering over with dinner. It was going okay, but then…Val immediately started to brush me off. I got upset, she started deflecting, people started staring, then she really started saying some things that really got me upset; kinda made a little scene out of it before walking off. Nor really princely, huh?” He tried smiling at the self jab, but failed. “Anyways, next time we meet per her request more a less will be at the tournament. We currently aren’t on speaking terms. Something she should be fine with since distance was what she wanted in the first place.”

Veronica could hear a little venom in those words. Val really did have Nick upset. He’s never this openly bitter. Though maybe it was being behind closed doors that allowed him to drop the facade of being consistently pleasant. Frankly, that made Veronica a little happy for him, in an odd way. However… “I see. So I assume that this dinner reservation was for you and her?” An answer wasn’t needed. Nick’s moment of sulking was replaced with a guilt ridden look on his face the moment she asked. “You know, kinda shitty you’re asking me to a dinner meant for another girl that turned you down. Not a fan of being someone’s second choice.”

Nick closed his eyes and let in a sharp breath like he had just been hit. “Oooo yeah, yeah that was pretty messed up for me.”

“Mhmm, big time. No girl wants to hear that you know?”

“I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to...sorry. That was tasteless and selfish of me.” He looked down, shamefully and with genuine guilt. It was only when Veronica’s hand lifted his head by his chin did he see the girl stare at him with an observing gaze and lips pouting to the side. She then crossed her arms and looked away from him, ears tucked and a tinge of red visible on her.

“You’re lucky you’re a good person and I am hungry. I…guess you could apologize with a good dinner?” Veronica knew he wasn’t trying to be insensitive. Still, she was more than a little ticked off at herself for letting him off easy. Darn his good qualities! Being mad towards him for long was never gonna happen. Not to mention having a calm outing together is a golden opportunity. No way she wasn’t gonna capitalize off of Valerie’s mistakes. Her eyes shifted towards Nick to see a relieved smile that only made staying upset harder.

“This place better be good! Also I’m gonna order every expensive thing possible!” Veronica declared, attempting to save face.

“Hehe, thank you, and go right ahead and order anything you want. It’s not until around nine so please, get some rest.”

“I should be saying that to you. Isn’t going out at night in the cold while moody only gonna give you more sniffles?”

“Pfft, I’m sick anymore. Just focus on healing and rest. Not that I have to tell you this, but you gotta dress nice for where we’re eating.”

Veronica smirked, pointing at a closet of designed outfits. “Careful. I may not be worth billions but I’ll make you look like a pocket change if you don’t wear you best.”

The boy let out a cocky chuckle before walking to the door. “For your information, I’m two billion.” He said puffing out his chest playfully, leaving on that note. He could hear her gentle laughter behind the door. At least he could lift one girl’s spirit. As for the other, Nick looked at his sister’s locked door. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t going to knock, but he had to at least walk to it. Come to think of it, Nick had a hard time remembering when this door remained open. Most days it kept either the warmth in, while shutting others out. Slowly he rested his hand against it. The wood, cool to the touch.

“Tell me what you need.” He thought, “I’m not a mind reader…” Nick could only sigh. He removed his hand and stepped back. As he began to walk, the door moved. As if something was pressed against it from the other side.

“I know you’re there.” Summer said from the other side. Nick quickly walked back to it. Somehow he could imagine how she was on the other side. One leg extended while the other was bent as she pressed her back to the door. Nick took a seat himself, mimicking the pose he envisioned.

“You okay?”

“Far from it, but that’s par for course…” Summer looked over her shoulder as if she was actually resting against her brother’s back. “Honestly I feel so fucked up some days that therapy feels like a joke. I think I need a break.”

“What kind of break?”

“The usual…” Summer let her words draw out lazily. The back of her head rhythmically tapped the door. “Care to join me?”

Nick tugged at the carpet fibers, mulling it over. “Mmmm sorry, I’m not in the mood for that kind of relief. Besides, I already have plans. I’ll cover for you though. I think venting could do some real good for ya. Just don’t stay out too long. Leave around… half past nine.”

“Will do, thanks Nick.” Even though a door separated them, Summer could feel the care from the other side. Veronica’s words back in the forest about Nick and how Summer treats their relationship struck an all too sensitive cord. “I promise not to worry you. Have fun with whatever you’re doing tonight. I’ll keep you updated and everything.”

“Don’t stress about it. I believe in you. Anyways, I gotta get going. I think I’ll do a bit of distressing in my own way.” Nick stands up. “Better go while there’s daylight.”

“Gonna pay respects?”

“Yep. Enjoy your outing. I’ll see ya tomorrow if I don’t see ya tonight before I leave. Love ya.” He walked away after that, not expecting a response. Didn’t need one. After all, Summer coming to the door said enough.

All in all, things felt okay. Life felt okay. By no means was it perfect, but Nick was thankful he had blessings to count. He’d feel better after the tournament. What should’ve been an exciting time was getting more troublesome. Training, performing, fighting Darren in the duos, and now a not so friendly rematch with Valerie. At least Eliza still had a sportsmanship attitude. He still needed to ask her favor as well. By the end of this she would certainly be sick of him. Nick was surprised she didn't block his number yet. That would royally suck.

His slow walk took down the stairs and back to the front of the manor. He heard dishes clanking from the door to the far left while he grabbed his dark blue winter coat off the rack. “That you dad?” The kitchen door swung open to show Jaune drying a cup and Yang waving in the background as she held a slice in her mouth while talking to Blake. How they managed to swipe pizza out of Veronica’s room was beyond Nick.

“What’s up?” Jaune said, noticing his son put his jacket on. “Heading out? Your mom and aunts should be back soon. Pretty sure they’d want-”

“Veronica and I are going on a dinner date later.” Nick interjected. As planned, his father was derailed. Stammering footsteps came plopping out of the kitchen in the form of a very wide eyed blonde, and a shocked ninja. Blake’s ears even did the little twitch Nick as seen Veronica do whenever she’s caught off guard. “Yeah I thought you all should now. I’d say don’t bug her about it and let her rest, but considering Yang’s feet are already pointed towards the stairs…”

Yang looked down. “Huh...how about that?” She said, walking up the stairs with Blake trying to stop her.”

“Let her rest Yang!”

“But I wanna say stuff~” she whined, “I guarantee you she’s listening to us right now.”

Yang was right on the money. Veronica was currently judging how much strength it would take to lock the door. Her odds were bad. “Okay I don’t care how cute he is. This was cruel!” Veronica thought loudly to herself.

Jaune watched Blake slowly get dragged up the stairs by trying to stop Yang. Without looking, he leaned forward and reached out to grab Nick’s shoulder, who was trying to slowly back up to the door. He faced forward and smiled. “Good attempt, but you’d need a better distraction than that.”

“Eh it was worth a shot…” Nick sighed. He was pulled forward and fell into a surprise hug. He stood silently for a minute before wrapping his arms around his dad. “You needed a hug?”

“Not really, but you looked like you did.” Jaune said, squeezing tired. “You know you’re growing up into a fine young man. Better than me by a long shot at your age. I hope you know your entire family is proud of you.”

“I know dad…” Nick said, his voice getting stuck in his throat a little.

“I know I can’t relate to some of the pressures you feel. Honestly being a part of a household with this much attention and expectation still gets me anxious from time to time. So don’t hesitate to vent to me. You’re a young adult yeah, but I’m still my son and sixteen. Weiss and I would much rather see you yell at an annoying cameraman or get scrappy with a bully than see you try to hold it in for the sake of family image. Remember that.”

How did he do it? It was unfair, downright cheating almost in Nick’s eyes. How could so many people easily call him out? “What’s the point of enduring if everyone I wanna reassure sees right through the act? So much for a brave face.” He muttered. Jaune finally let go of him. The compassionate father poked Nick right where his heart was.

“Enduring an ordeal for the sake of others is pretty brave in my book, but who said you couldn’t endure hardships and still be open to those who matter? Have you meant your friends and family? Besides your sister I don’t think there’s a soul close to you who isn’t an expert of seeing past masks. Val and Vee live with bleeding hearts and the rest have had to put up with me!” He chuckled, “Just like I’m sure you know when someone is upset.”

Nick had his doubts. “Mmmmm, starting to think I might not know them as well as I think. Val is...ugh, I don’t know she is. Learned about Vee’s traits recently for the first time, and Summer-”

“Okay, I see your point. But! Learning new things about them and knowing there’s things you don’t know, doesn’t erase what you did. Y’all are teens. There’s a bunch of things to sort through. At the end of the day though, you know them where it counts. Does that make sense?”

“....Yeah, I think I do.” Nick nodded, thanks dad. Seriously. It’s kinda scary how good at talking you are.”

“Comes with practice, specifically learning to listen and just watch closely. You may not realize it but you do this plenty. It’s a big reason people gravitate towards you. Well… people who are just money hungry anyways, but that’s more of a rich person policy than a Nick-ism. I digress! You better get going before your mother comes back and give you her own talk.” Jaune said. He opened up the door for Nick to leave. “From the way you’ve been acting I assume you’re heading to pay your respects?”

Nick nodded, “I’ll try not to be terribly long. Don’t tell mom unless she asks. You know how she gets?” Nick walked through the door, fist bumping his dad on the way out.

Jaune closed the door and went back to the kitchen. Somewhere above him he could hear giggles and a few squealing. “Hopefully nothing catches on fire up there.”

“You are starting a fire!” Blake yelled, trying to contain Yang’s excitement so the blonde’s hair would stop flaring up. “Use your words.” Blake laughed.

“Please…” Veronica groaned. This level of energy was higher than usual. “You’re more excited than me. It’s just a dinner date. Barely even that. More like a thank you gift I suppose.” That being said the blush coming to her face clearly sung a different tune. “Can we please talk about anything else? I mean mom, you’re here!”

Blake crossed her arms. “So I heard you got into a fight? Let’s talk about that.”

“Ummm, so this date, any suggestions on what to wear?” Veronica poorly deflected. Blake didn’t even respond and Yang was smart enough not to. There was no choice but to talk about it unfortunately. “Sigh….I know okay? Ma told me I should’ve eaten and I didn’t listen. I should’ve, or learn to walk away from-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Don’t think for a second I wasn’t okay with a person getting hit when they were clearing harassing you.” Blake took a seat on the bed. “Expecting you to balance instinct, emotions, and logic here in Atlas was never in the cards, because frankly we don’t know what that balance is. Not to say I assumed you’d fight here. All I wanted was for you to try and...take a break from the norm.”

“If that’s the case then school should’ve been removed right off the back. It doesn’t matter the location, people act the same. Different faces, same insufferability. Only difference is these bozos are rich and human.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t crushing on a rich human whose parents are allowing you to stay in their manor.” Yang deadpanned. “Not making you go to school would only leave you bored and gods know what you’ll do with too much time on your hands. Then again you managed to stir things up already by stealing a spot on the cheer team.”

Blake did a double take. That wasn’t mentioned earlier. “Cheer team? How did that happen?”

“A girl got cocky with me so I out performed her. Honestly I was more than a little surprised by it all. Holding pom-poms, doing flips on mats, and even the couch blowing the whistle, kinda forgot what those things were like until I was in the moment.”

“See? That’s a change from norm.”

“Pretty sure that counts as a return to form.” Veronica countered. “It’s whatever though. Just a temporary thing. Although I’ll admit that Eliza chick, Marigold’s kid, she’s pretty decent.”

Blake wasn’t expecting that easier. “Oh? Well that’s nice. Sounds like that could be not so temporary?”

“Eh, whatever happens, happens.” It was a nice thought. Veronica couldn’t deny that. “Any other thing you wanted to discuss with me? I’d like to lay down for a bit longer.”

“How’s it feel to discuss all this genetic stuff with Nick and Summer? Call it what you want, but telling them was no different from a therapy session if it made you feel better.” Blake stated.

Veronica frowned. “Not how I see it. I’m pretty indifferent for the most part I’d say. Haven’t thought deeply about it. Veronica plopped her head on the pillows and turned away.

Blake and Yang took their scrappy daughter’s hint to leave. Blake got off the bed and was more than fine revisiting the discussion later. Yang briefly bent over Veronica’s covered face and kissed her head.

“Muah! By the way, I’m pretty sure Nick would love to see you in his colors. No heels though. He’s a little touchy about his height.” Yang left after that, closing the door gently. Veronica could only lay there pondering the advice.

“Hmmmm that could work.”

xxxx

While the youth finally got some rest, Adults were hard at work trying to piece together all that’s happened. Ruby and Weiss scoped out the undisturbed frozen lake along with Winter, Nora, and Penny most importantly. Though there wasn’t much to go on. Just crushed rocks, claw marks from ferocious grimm, and a mix of blue and red blood that made Weiss particularly uncomfortable. Ruby sensed that uneasiness and quickly began rubbing her partner’s back.

“Your daughter’s fine.” Ruby reassured. “If what she said is accurate then she never actually lost control.”

“Yeah but the blue dyed snow before us means she just barely held on. That’s too close for comfort.” Weiss held her hands together gently. “It feels like things are getting worse.”

“Because you’re in the thick of it.” Nora spoke, projecting her voice to get their attention. The strong and prideful woman made her way over to them. “Every day you’re worried for her and wake up knowing your daughter is a few rooms away upset. A parent is only as happy as their saddest child, and seeing Summer so distant makes it difficult to see the good stuff. This situation is trying, yes, but Summer still fought back. Your daughter fought Shiva off and killed grimm to protect someone. Determination like that is a sign Summer isn’t done fighting by a long shot, so that means you shouldn’t mope. I mean she gets all that strength to defy assholes from you.”

Ruby gave a big smile. She couldn’t have said it better herself. “Yeah! Nora’s right. We’ll turn this around.”

“....Geez, you two ever stop being helpful?” Weiss said, smiling gently. She was happy to have them here. “Thank you, especially you Nora.”

“Considerate my way of apologizing if Valerie really upset Nick. I told her she needed to call him, especially after him having the decency to call me so I could keep her in the loop about this. Apparently she wasn’t very pleased that he was ill and didn’t mention it. She’s….a lot sometimes.”

“Hey, so were we. I’m sure she means well and I’m not oblivious to the fact Nick can be...a lot as well. I’m partly to blame. I enable some of his actions towards her from time to time. I think I’m projecting a bit. Maybe I should tell him to move on?” Weiss sighed. Perhaps she played matchmaker too much and misread things.

Nora could only chuckle. “Hehe, I wouldn’t. Believe me when I tell you Valerie doesn’t hate having Nick look her way. A little forwardness is the only way she’ll acknowledge problems she doesn’t want to deal with. I can’t say for certainty what those problems are but I don’t pin any of it Nick. Val has a way of wanting her cake and eating it too. She’s gotta learn hard ways that’s not how life goes. I just hope Nick finds it in himself to not hate her because of this.”

“Pfft, I don’t think hate truly exists in his vocabulary.” Weiss laughed. She could count on her hand how many times Nick truly despised a person. “He’ll be petty about it I’m sure, but that’ll go away. Space between them might be good. At the end of the day I at least want them to still be close. Val has a way of motivating him that I like. He actually has fun.”

“Yeah, my Little Thunderhead excels at moving people, that’s for sure. Her semblance would be pretty mediocre otherwise if she wasn’t.”

The three continued talking lightly until Penny eventually walked up with Winter. “Okay, so I’ve finished running some tests of the area and the deposit of Diamond Dust. I have….unique results.” Penny said, a bit baffled.

Ruby wasn’t a fan of that statement. “Ummm that doesn’t sound great coming from a person who reads books written in binary. What did you find?”

“This dust is less volatile than the samples in my lab, even though it’s been untouched for longer. By all means it should be more refined.”

“Well isn’t it a good thing that it isn’t?” Weiss asked. “We barely handle what we have.”

“True, but it’s strange. There’s a couple possibilities that may explain this. Summer may have used up some unintentionally, or maybe Shiva herself was syphoning it.”

Winter folded her arms, “Not a fan of that second option. Based on the story though, what if it wasn’t touched at all?”

“Panic attack.” Penny said immediately. “She hasn’t been here since the accident, right? It’s entirely plausible that Summer’s mind and body remembered the trauma. Repressed memories or outright fear and anxiety could be the basis for this entire event. I tried contacting Oscar if he’s noticed anything different in Summer’s behavior, but I can’t get in contact with him. The seas have been rather violent lately due to weather changes.”

“So what you're basically saying is we're as lost as usual?” Weiss said, falling backwards into the snow. “Juuuuuust great. I’m going to assume the pain attack option then. That’s something I can work on with her. If Shiva is by any chance stronger now then the only thing we can do is what we always do. Brace ourselves.”

Ruby looked down at Weiss. “And option one actually means we have less dust to deal with. That’s a plus!” She knew it was a small amount of positivity but every bit helped. Weiss smiled at her and sat up.

“Here’s hoping for option one as well I suppose. We should probably head back. This place creeps me out a bit.”

Ruby helped Weiss up and everyone began leaving. Penny kept staring at the data she collected and trying to call Oscar. Unfortunately the man wasn’t answering. Her displeased sigh was heard by Winter, who rubbed the girl’s back.

“Not to be insensitive, but your son and Qrow wouldn’t do anything too crazy out a sea would they?”

Winter laughed nervously. “Hehehe….I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t inspire confidence!” Penny yelped. Now she was only going to think about them being stranded by the gods or in a storm. Hopefully she would hear from him soon. “I guess a deeper study will have to wait. Ruby, can I stay at your place with Whitley for a bit? I don’t wanna go home yet. Too lonely.

“Sure thing! Door is always open. Though I bet you’ll have a livelier time at the manor these days.”

Penny tried her best to act like that would be a good idea. “Tempting, but a certain blonde teenage girl wouldn’t like that much, considering her parents so desperately want my husband to be her therapist. Summer also sees me enough as is. Nick would be happy I was there.” She said in a happier tune.

“He’s not home if I know him well enough.” Weiss frowned. “Times like these, I’m sure he’ll visit the graveyards.”

Truly, her son was easy to read.

xxxx

Right now the boy in question walked through an alley of tombstones and snow, his and covered in pollen. Atlas’s central graveyard had become a place for Nick over the years. The wide space and solitude became a welcoming barrier that blocked out most strangers from approaching him. Even the paparazzi had enough tact to not disturb a person here. His feet carried him down multiple lanes towards an old tree barren of any leaves looming over a grave with no actual tombstone. Standing before it was Eliza, wearing a dark blue winter coat and deep in thought. He wasn’t expecting to see her today.

Nick kept approaching until he stood beside her silently. A cool breeze went by them as the air itself felt still. Eliza eventually shifted her gaze to him, completely aware he was there. She looked down at his dusty yellow hands before speaking. “Talking to your grandma again?”

“Yeah. She says I should eat more sandwiches. Afraid I’m a little too then.”

“Heh, always witty. Visited your gramps yet?”

Nick shook his head, “No that’s halfway across Atlas from here and further from my home. It’s the next stop. What about you? Didn’t expect you to be here today.”

“Haven’t been in awhile.” Eliza waved her hand to cause a brief gust that blew away the snow from the grave and several others. “It needed cleaning and I was in the area. So what brings you here specifically? You only visit here on anniversaries, holidays, and when you’re moody. Last time I checked this is a random day, soooo”

“Eh don’t worry about it. Everything is alright now. Just decompressing.”

“Fair enough.” Eliza put her hands in her pocket and went back to thinking, until she realized Nick was looking at her again. “Uhh can I help you?” She said a little confrontational.

Nick got a little defensive and spoke quickly. “No, just surprised you’re not pressing me to open up.”

“Why? Your business is your business unless you make it my business. Something you’ll do if your attitude negatively affects the preparation for the tournament.”

“Ouch...well if that’s the case then the favor I’m about to ask you shouldn’t refuse.”

That peaked her interest. Eliza actually turned around fully. “You’ve been asking a lot of favors of me lately.”

“I’ve asked like two favors, and you’re the one telling me to directly involve you if-”

Eliza covered his mouth, irritated by him being right. “I know what I said! Sigh… what’s up?”

Nick looked down at the hand on his mouth, getting Eliza to remove it. “You’re lucky I didn’t lick it.”

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you up on hollow ground.”

Nick smirked. “Oh, so you think you can finally take me?”

Eliza squinted at him as her face got a little red. Why the hell did he have to be like this sometimes!? “The next words you speak better be your favor, or I’m walking away.”

“Well I wouldn’t exactly call it a favor but if you’re training by the harbor tonight, I’d appreciate it if you swooped by the seventh dock. The one with the huge building they rarely put cargo in. Summer is going to be there blowing off some steam. I don’t think anything will go wrong but you know, if you got the time…?”

“Hmmm I guess that’s not unreasonable. Wait, how do you know I train by the harbor!?”

“Did you forget my cousin literally owns a ship? If I’m correct, one time he said his sail caught on fire when a random bolt of lightning came down one day.”

“......” Eliza put her hand back in her pocket and began walking. “You’re really annoying Nick.”

“I’ve done nothing! Also I’m not done talking! I actually do have a real favor I’ve been mulling over for about a day!” Eliza kept walking away from him. “Hey! Don’t just- Can you train me!?” He shouted, hoping to gain her interest again.

It worked wonderfully. Eliza stopped mid-step and pivoted around. “Excuse me?”

“Training, yeah uh there’s this thing Schnee’s do called the candle test. Helps with our glyphs. Long story short, I’m ass at it hehe. Summer has stuff going on and it’s not really clicking with my mom or aunt. Since your magic is sorta like what I have to do, I thought maybe-”

“We are in a contest against each other, Nicholas.” She said firmly. “You are my opponent! One of two people currently in my way from reaching the top. Why on Remnant would I help you?”

Nick’s eyes avoided contact with hers. He began to scratch the back of his head as if he’d been caught red handed in a lie. “Because… you value sportsmanship?” He looked at her to receive an unamused blank stare that was colder than the snow. “Uh, and also you helping me in any capacity will let you in on a proposition that you’d find very intriguing. But I’ll only tell you when we’re training.”

“Tsk, I would think a Schnee would know better how to do business negotiations. Why would I make a deal when I don’t know if I even care about it? You tell me now or not at all.”

“I can’t say it now! I gotta smooth out details.”

“Then I guess we’re done here.”

“Fine, then I guess you don’t want a shot at gold with a sure fire way of at least getting silver!” He boasted, catching Eliza off guard. Nick slicked his hair back and crossed his arms to intimate his uncle’s calm yet assertive demeanor. “Yeah that’s right. I’m saying I have an idea crazy enough to benefit you and I. Everyone wants gold of course. However, you got a little more riding on this, don’t you?”

Eliza remained silent. Nick began walking a little closer to refrain from speaking too loud. “Last year was your real debut to the public eye and it was pretty good one at that. Third place is nothing to snuff at in the singles bracket. However...trust me when I say I know third is the worst seat in the house. That’s where the pressure and stress is. One mistake and you're off the podium and that feels terrible when people finally start looking your way.”

Eliza began tapping her foot. He wasn’t wrong. Not by a long shot. Confident as she was, Eliza was aware of her only two options. Do better, or hit the same bar. Winning was the goal but no one was gonna give her shit for losing to the top two contests. Nick and Valerie have been dominating for about three years now, and here he was saying he can get her to second. “Get to the point.”

Nick unfolded his arms. Time to be gentle again. “I cannot get into specifics at this time, but if you wanna show up at the manor anytime this week to help me, we can talk. I can get you second at minimum in King of the Hill.

His eyes burned with eagerness. Eliza had so many questions but obviously he wouldn’t answer them. This plan clearly had to be in his favor to get first, which neither of them had earned before. However, Valerie was first. How did she fit into this? What was going through his head!? Eliza had to know what regardless if she’d actually be okay with it. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Tsk, I take back what I said. Guess you are a Schnee. I will see when I can come over and help. Now, any other obnoxious request before I get driven away from this conversation?”

“Well……” Nick could feel just how dangerous this situation was. “It’s quite a walk to the other cemetery from here….hehe.” Laughing was hard when someone’s nostrils were flaring at you in frustration. Getting closer might’ve been a terrible decision.

Eliza closed her eyes briefly, then turned around to walk away. She went a few steps before briefly stopping. “Knock the snow off your shoes before you step in.”

Nick lit up like a Christmas tree. “You’re the best!!!”

“Why did he get more votes than me!?” Eliza internally screamed.

xxxxx

The day seemed to drag on. It had taken some time for Weiss to return home with the company of her sister and Ruby. Nora had departed earlier to check in on her family. Penny had opted to head towards Ruby’s home before her. They would’ve gone together but Ruby did want to see her niece and Blake. Penny had yet to properly see her friends. Though she wanted to, she thought it best to hold off for now.

The trio walked into the house and were assaulted by the strong scent of what had to be Jaune’s amazing cooking. They could practically see the aroma of spices dance in the air. One spice in particular hit Ruby. It was subtle but sharp at the same time. The kind of spice that sent a zing through your nose and hit your tastebuds. A mouth watering smile spread on her face and her stomach growled.

“Mmmmmm” Ruby hummed, “Somebody brought spices with them from Menagerie.” She sang. Ruby and Weiss wasted no time heading to the kitchen. Inside was an apron-wearing knight stirring a pot of stew, and their favorite faunus in the whole wide world in an apron cutting vegetables.

Blake didn’t even need to turn around to know what giggling pair just entered the kitchen. She put the knife down all the same and turned around with her arms wide open. “Well-” she couldn’t even say her boastful introduction before her two cheecky smile teammates dove in for a hug. All three of them just became a choir of happy laughter as they embraced one another.

Weiss finally let her friend go to get a good look at her. “Look at you! Traveled all this way and you’re helping make dinner!? I don’t deserve you!”

“Well I saw Jaune breakout a pot and I figured he’d enjoy some help without fear of something burning.” Blake jabbed. Ruby immediately tucked her lips to stop herself from snickering at the diss.

Weiss’s jaw dropped. She still smiled however, crossing her arms. “Oh ha ha, I’ll have you know my cooking is leagues better than what you remember since last time you had it. I can cook amazing meals all by myself!”

“As long as it doesn’t involve a fryer.” Jaune added, walking over to kiss his wife’s cheek really quick.

Weiss’s face got a little flushed. “Grease is bothersome.” She mumbled. Blake could only chuckle at the remark while walking to the pot and dumping the vegetables inside. The smell of the stew intensified and reminded Weiss she is still very much the weakest in her friend group when cooking was involved. “How are you going to outdo me in my own home? Why’d you bring spices in the first place!?”

“Don’t question it!” Ruby shouted. Her body went on autopilot to grab the plates and cups for the dinner.

“Ruby, aren’t gonna make dinner at home?” The room said, thinking about Whitley.

Ruby then proceeded to grab one of Jaune’s tupperware containers. Apparently they were now feeding Whitley as well. Ruby knew they wouldn’t mind, so she felt no remorse when filling it. Her boldness knew no bonds.

“Ruby, how do you know they aren’t making enough food for the people in this house?”

“Because this household would crumble anytime Jaune did a mission and didn’t make enough food for weeks.”

“I can cook!!!!” Weiss yelled.

Jaune playfully rolled his eyes and patted Weiss’s back. “Ruby isn’t completely wrong. Anyways she can take as much as she wants. Nick and Veronica have a dinner date tonight so they won’t be joining us for dinner. Then I don’t if Summer-”

“Nick and Veronica have a date!?” Weiss and Ruby shouted.

“Oh yeah… that happened while you left.” Jaune tried to reach for the ladle for the stew but Weiss swatted his hand before turning his head back to her. Fortunately Blake swooped in to continue stirring. “Yeah so they’re going on a date tonight. I don’t know details.”

Weiss turned to Blake who shrugged. “I didn’t press Veronica too much about it. Yang should be upstairs with her trying on dresses.

“Behold! A beautiful sunflower in the snow!” Yang cried out from outside the kitchen unexpectedly.

“Or I guess she’s downstairs now.” Blake turned off the burner on the stove and moved the pot before following her friends out to the main hall. Outside was Yang standing proudly with her hands on her hips and staring up the stairs proudly. Jaune and Weiss’s eyes went wide while Winter seemed….impressed? As much as she could be. Her feelings towards Veronica in general were mixed. The girl was definitely beautiful though. That was just a fact.

Blake looked up to see her daughter all dressed up at the top of the steps. She wore a white, thin strapped dress that had a light blue sash around her waist. The skirt portion went down to about knee level and the flats she wore were also white. The bottom of the skirt brought more color in by being an intense light blue that faded to white half way up; lace snowflakes were intricately etched on to that portion to break the color up. Gloves that went just passed her elbows followed a similar scheme but started white at the hands before transitioning to blue. To top it all off, a pretty little light blue ribbon formed a bow on top of her head. It was that accessory that made Blake notice that not only wet her ears gone from sight, but so was her tail.

Veronica’s face was stricken with a decent shade of red. Her feet shuffling in place a little as she rubbed her left arm. “So….ummm thoughts?” She said anxiously. “This is just one of several ideas so no need to hold back.”

“Several? What, did you make these in a couple hours?” Winter asked.

“No. I’ve been working on a Fire and Ice collection recently. This dress in particular was already put together for the most part. Although the snowflakes at the bottom was a last minute decision I made half an hour ago.” Veronica swayed to make the skirt flow side to side. “Normally I’d say adding flames or snowflakes is a bit heavy handed since the colors of the outfit already speak fire and ice, but I don’t know. Felt appropriate. Especially since the white lace is on the blue. I even have them on the upper rim of the gloves. Made sleeve versions too.” Veronica inspected the stitching to make sure it was okay. “Hmm not my best work, but I kinda like it.”

“I kinda love it!” Yang proudly said. “Oh it takes me back to the Beacon dance a little. Back then another Schnee was outdone by a Xiao Long wearing white.”

“Ha, no! Your dress didn’t even look done!” Weiss shot back, refusing to take such slander. “This dress is ten times better than what you wore.”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah sis, your dress was pretty plain. Didn’t even have a bow.”

“I couldn’t find one!” Yang defended.

Judging by the banter, Veronica was getting positive vibes from the dress. She looked at Winter since the woman was there. Surprisingly, a thumbs up was given. “Well that was more positive than I expected from her.” Veronica thought. The only person who remained silent was Blake. Veronica turned to see her mother assessing what her daughter had on. The silence she gave made Veronica a little concerned. “What’s up mom? Not a fan of how thin the straps are? It’s not a low cut anywhere.”

“No, all that is fine. I just have to ask, why-” before Blake finished, the front door opened once again with Nick coming through it this time. Everyone froze in place by his sudden entrance. Including him!

“Uhhh why is everyone just standing in the front of the house?” Nick questioned. It was only when he looked up the left staircase did he get his answer. “Oh, that’s why. You look...wow.” He said, rather clumsily. “I didn’t think you’d get ready three hours ahead of schedule. I still gotta wash up from the grav- I mean my walk. Yeah, walk, around town. With no real location stopped at.” He had no idea why he kept saying things. The deadpanned look on Winter and Weiss’s face clearly showed they knew where he was.

Weiss gave a reassuring smile and poked his forehead. “No need to lie, especially so poorly. If talking to them brought you some form of clarity then by all means have at it.”

“Yeah it’s not my business either.” Winter added, ruffling his hair.

Veronica wasn’t exactly sure what they were discussing, but it looked like things were going well. Nick even looked like he was in a better mood then when he left. His eyes went back to Veronica and made her fidget a little. The gaze he gave her was focused, deliberate even.She didn’t know how to feel about it until Nick began to look a tad displeased. “I-Is something wrong?” Veronica asked hesitantly.

“Not wrong, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cover your ears. Tail yeah, since it can get in the way a bit, but why the bow?” He asked, pointing at it from afar. Everyone looked towards her for an answer, especially Blake. Nick had beaten her to the question.

Veronica looked down at her feet for a moment before looking at her family, crush, others. She never really knew what to call Weiss or her siblings. “Well normally I wouldn’t cover them, but while you were gone I kept thinking about this date…and how I wanted it to be a simple night out.” Heat began to rush to her cheeks. “So you know, people will stare and judge less if I’m like this. Not that their opinions matter, but I’d like to keep things peaceful as much as possible tonight. That’s all.” She looked at Blake who was looking right back at her. The answer didn’t seem to upset or surprise the mother. Veronica played with her a bit. “Is...that okay?”

“Hmm? You’re asking permission? It caught me off guard seeing it. Whether it be for aesthetic or personal reasons, I won’t dictate how you wanna design your clothes as long as it’s appropriate. After all, ribbons and I have a history. Couldn’t judge you if I wanted.”

That was a relief to hear. Veronica had completely forgotten her mother wasn’t a stranger to trying to blend in. “Well if that’s settled-”

“Hold on.” Nick softly said, his calm footsteps walking up the stairs to meet her. Everyone fell speechless as they watched him. Veronica for some reason felt as if the mood had changed. The room was quieter, air completely still. The face of the boy in front of her began to look more earnest than it has ever been as it got closer, stifling her breath. Nick extended his hand out slowly till his fingers clasped a corner of the bow, then unraveled it.

The ribbon flowed slowly into his palm and then was brought down towards Veronica’s. “If a calm night means you have to hide, then is it really a calm worth having? Like you said, those people don’t matter. Besides, I like your ears.”

Burst, Veronica felt like her heart could’ve burst. The blush on her cheeks deepened greatly and her eyes went wide from the shocking words. She had barely remembered to breathe. If she paid attention to the audience below then she would’ve been embarrassed by the grins that went ear to ear but no. Veronica only noticed Nick and his gentle smile that matched his words. Her mind finally caught up with itself and Veronica grasped the ribbon ever so slowly.

“O-Okay…” she said without thinking. Anybody else may have gotten more of a debate on it. Not him though. Not after words like those. “I’ll...make a few adjustments then.” She said, flattered and flustered as she walked back to her room without any more words.

“Take your time. You still have about three hours like I said, plus I gotta wash up.” He reminded her, not realizing just how sweet his words were. He turned back around to see smug faces and contained laughter. “What?”

“Nick…” Winter said, smiling with her hands on her hips. “And you wonder why girls flock to you obsessively. You’re too much.”

“I’ll say.” Blake said, admiring the boy. “But you know what? There’s something perfect about that. Nicholas, thank you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he did but he got embarrassed all the same, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. At least things finally felt relaxed in this house. “Umm you’re welcome?”

With teasing done and the mood lightened, everyone went back to doing their respective things. Jaune and Blake went back to prepping food. Weiss went with Ruby to set tables and properly catch up, while Yang decided to keep Winter company since both her son and Qrow were off adventuring. The chatter filled the hallways and even reached upstairs to not only Veronica, but Summer, who finally managed to fall asleep peacefully. Even Nick found a bit of proper rest in the bath. The soothing warm water filled with epsom salt was more than enough to make him doze off. Time steadily went forward and the adults began winding down. However, the kids were just getting ready for the night.

xxxxx

Dusk finally came. Winter leaned up against the main door waiting until she saw Nick coming walking down the stairs looking dashing. His crisp white suit, ice blue tie and handkerchief were perfectly in place along with his slick back hair.

“Hey Whitley jr.”

He groaned, “Please don’t. This is why I do nothing with my hair. One minute I look like dad, then the next I’m uncle.”

“Grow it out more then.” Winter suggested.

He shook his head. “That’s a slippery slope. Too long and I’ll be compared to you, mom, and sis. I guess my face is just too great.”

“Pfft, you just know you can’t compete with all this.” Winter sassed, turning her head to sway her hair. Nick would have objected if she wasn’t right.

“Whatever hehe. Anyways, everybody still here?”

“No, Ruby eventually headed home, but everyone else is strung about. I’m heading out myself but I figured I could drop you and Veronica off for your date.”

Nick gave her aunt a huge smile. “Awww, auntie!”

“Oh hush, don’t make it a big deal. It’s convenient, that’s all.”

“Well I appreciate it nonetheless. Veronica will too.”

Winter mumbled,“She better show it by not getting you or sister into trouble.”

“I heard that.” Veronica called from up the staircase. Winter and Nick looked in that direction to see her walking down. Nick wasn’t prepared.

Veronica had switched the gloves out for detachable sleeves that still exposed her shoulders. They also followed the same white to blue pattern. What really changed was she used the ribbon to make a high ponytail and now dawning jewelry. A pearl white necklace rested around her neck and complemented the pearl earrings she wore. Slowly she approached Nick with her hands holding each other in front of her. Veronica’s face was still a healthy shade of red. This close, Nick couldn’t help but smell of peach nectar. An interesting and oddly refreshing choice for perfume.

“Well...ummm...you weren’t kidding when you said you would out dress me.” Nick said, captivated. “I’d say you’re one billion, easily.”

Veronica chuckled nervously. “Hehe,th...thanks. I wouldn’t go that far, but I appreciate it.” Looking at him was harder than usual. Men’s dress shoes had a bit of heel, so Nick actually was a bit taller then her now since she chose flats. It could only be by an inch or two but it made a hell of a difference to her. “I had a little help near the end. These are actually your sister’s pearls.”

“Really? Oh, that’s right! I think the only reason she got them was so this other rude girl couldn’t. I don’t remember the specifics.”

“Wow. You two are….extremely petty at times.” Veronica said. Yeah pettiness was nothing new to her, but she’d never bought something to spite someone else. That’s the lifestyle in Atlas she supposed. “Anyways, if you’re ready to go then I am too. I’d really like to avoid-”

Click! The sound of a camera cut her off. The two teens looked back to see their parents all taking photos. Trying to stop them would be impossible. The only thing they could do is quietly wait for the clicking to stop, which was thankfully over in seconds.

“Gee I didn’t realize I lived with paparazzi.” Nick quipped. Another flash came from up above the second floor. Summer and her bed head leaned against the railing. “Summer!? You too!?”

“I came down to eat and saw we were embarrassing you. How could I not?” She took one more photo and then made her way down to the kitchen. “Have fun. I’m gonna eat and go right back to bed.”

Nick knew she was lying of course. That was the real reason she came down now, to announce she’d be sleeping in her room so nobody would disturb her. Summer, never missing an opening, also collected everything she needed from upstairs without anyone noticing. It was scary how far she’d plan ahead sometimes.

Winter finally decided to open the front door and head out. “Let’s move people. Rich or not, it’s rude to be late for reservations.”

“So strict. Almost think that you’re about to go drill instructor on me.” Veronica jokes, walking out the door.

“Don’t think I won’t make you drop and give me twenty just because you’re in a dress.” Winter shot back, closing the door as Nick walked out.

“The sad thing is she isn’t kidding…” Weiss nervously said. “That’s gonna be a long car ride.”

Summer came out of the kitchen with a bowl of stew and an evil look in her eye. “Why are there less left overs than usual? Who had seconds?”

“Ruby took some for Whitley. As well as had seconds…”

Summer squinted as if Ruby was there to actually receive the grumpy look before putts spoonful in her mouth and walking back upstairs.

“Ma’am, the table. Not your room.” Weiss said, using her mom voice.

Summer did a heel turn to the dining room. “Who made this stew!?” She said annoyed. Jaune and Blake both raised their hands. “It’s fantastic!” Was all she said as she continued walking.

Blake and Yang looked at each other confused before looking at their friends.

“Hangry.” Was all Jaune said.

“Ah…” the couple said together.

The moment Summer was out of sight from everyone she put the bowl down and searched around the living room quickly until she found her guitar case. Quickly, she grabbed it and opened a window towards the side of the estate and tossed it on a set of glyphs that hopefully propelled it right into her open room window. She then ran back to the dining room to sit down and eat comfortably.

“Phew! That was the last thing. And now I wait.” She took another bite of the stew happily. Nothing tastes better than an escape plan coming together.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby twin snowflakes #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #val valkyrie #winter schnee #penny polendina #veronica belladonna #rwby whiteknight

32 notes · View notes

orange-axolotl · 3 years

Text

This idea is based of this post! A huge thank you to @tack-tick who inspired me to write this and @dreamsmp-au-ideas for giving them a platform to put it on.

tw: hurt/no comfort, major death warning, I put smajor in place of Sclatt because i saw some cool ideas of him being Phil’s brother somewhere, a role reversal au.

ao3 link

Wilbur’s lost count of how many portals that he’s moved through at this point. The endless voids of stars and the sickening purple swirls that he’d raced through all blurring together as he moves through world after world.

It’s been two weeks since he’d received the letter from Technoblade that had prompted the mad dash. He’s read it so often that he can recite it by memory, can see where Techno’s always steady hand had smeared ink.

‘Dad’s not doing too well. Things aren’t going the way that we had planned. It might help us out if you could by. The sooner would be better.

- Technoblade.’

Most people wouldn’t find that alarming, some would even scoff at the way that Wilbur - a relatively soft musician in a family of warriors - is rushing to help the mighty and untouchable Technoblade.

There are only three people in the world who could read the warning signs, the red flags, the imminent danger in his brother’s words. It’s the reason that Wilbur had received the letter instead of the several more powerful people that Technoblade knows.

As soon as he’d gotten it he’d called on every single connection that he has, pulled on old favors, tracked down any kind of help that he could find. At every turn there was helpless shrugs and advice to not go anywhere near that server. Blocked from the common every man in a way that it hadn’t been at the beginning.

He places the ender eyes and does his best to focus on the sketches that Niki had sent him. The bare outlines of a podium, the white house in it’s half - glory (Tubbo and Phil) and it’s half - disatrous (Quackity) state. The flag that he’d designed.

His breath catches as his feet find air. He thinks of his father’s glorious iridescent black wings, Tommy’s barking laughter, Techno’s deadpan jokes. The smell of freshly baked bread.

The end swirls around him, stars twisting around him at a breakneck speed.

Phil’s voice starts to echo all around him a moment later.

“I think that there really was something special about it, ya know?” Phil says, sad and melancholic, “The way that we all built it from the ground up. The way that we managed to keep Dream from stepping all over us, but I think that - I think that eras passed us by.”

“Phil?” Wilbur calls out, struggling to keep his eyes open. “What are you doing?”

A beat of silence.

A whispered, “Wilbur?”

“No, it’s one of your other sons. Yes, it’s me.” Wilbur says, the stars finally slow down until they’re merely turning around him. “I’ve been looking for you guys for so long. It’s a bitch of a thing to get on a server without being whitelisted.”

“Wilbur, mate, you really should go home.” Phil says. It takes far too long before Wilbur realizes that he’s crying. “There’s not really much to be done here.”

Oh gods, Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s ever once heard Phil cry.

“Where are you?” Wilbur calls. He doesn’t know if the stars are actually closing in on him or if it’s a trick of the void. He doesn’t much care when he has a crying father to try to talk too, “Dad, where are you? Where are the others?”

“We’re in L’manberg,” Phil says, catching on the word. “You wouldn’t know exactly where I am. I - Wilbur. I think that it’d be best that you stay out of the Dream SMP for right now. You can try again in a day or two -”

Wilbur’s feet finally meet stone, but much more importantly his eyes are fixated on the black feathers of his father’s wings. The feathers are all in disarray in a way that Phil would never let happen. Wilbur isn’t naive enough to think the dark red smeared against the back is anything other than blood.

The room that they’re in doesn’t look like anything that’s been described to him. There are words carved into the wall shadowed so Wilbur can’t make out more than a few words. His hands start shaking when he realizes that they’re the semi - joking lyrics that Wilbur had sent to him, months ago now, after they’d won the war. Wilbur had insisted that they’d need a national anthem.

“How’d you get in?” Phil asks.

“I - I hacked my way in,” Wilbur says, taking a careful step forward. He has to duck so he doesn’t hit the top of the ceiling. “Phil, what the fuck is going on?”

“Stay back!” Phil snaps, whirling around as the sound echoes in the small space. The instinct to obey that voice has Wilbur taking two steps back. Phil swallows, a few tears trailing down his cheeks, he attempts a horrible facsimile of a smile. “Wilbur, we won.”

“You don’t seem very happy about that?”

“Scott - Scott’s dead, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s heart drops into his stomach. He has to grab at the edge of a wall to keep himself steady as the words slam into him like a blow. “What?” he whispers, “But I thought you were going to take him in peacefully?”

“He didn’t want that,” Phil says, tragedy written into the deep-set wrinkles of his forehead and in the bags under his eyes. “He made sure that we wouldn’t be able to take him in.”

Wilbur forces himself to focus on Phil. He has too because otherwise the grief would overwhelm him. He still doesn’t know how his vibrant, extroverted, and fun - loving uncle had turned into the cold tyrant that he’d been told about.

Instead he focuses on the way that Phil looks like he might turn into dust at any moment. His bucket hat is wrinkled and sags against his forehead, his shoulders curved and his wings hunched defensively around him. He looks old in a way that Wilbur’s never seen him look.

He hasn’t moved away from the wall. He’s so obviously hiding something from view.

“Phil,” Wilbur’s voice is shaking despite his best effort. “Phil, what’s this room suppose to be about?”

Phil takes a deep fortifying breath. His back straightens, his wings go lax against the floor even as they twitch with energy.

“Phil?”

“Do you remember Eret?” Phil asks.

Oh, Wilbur remembers Eret. The deep wounds that they’d left on his already untrusting father and brother had Wilbur and Tommy sending scathing letters for weeks afterwards. He remembers the half - upset, half - amused way Phil had written about the rainbow - themed castle. He remembers laughing so hard that he’d cried when Tommy told him about the crusade that he and Technoblade were undertaking of stealing every single flamingo that Eret had dared put up.

“I remember Eret,” Wilbur says, “I don’t know what he has to do with this. Phil, please, let’s just go and find our boys -”

His communicator beeps. Several rockets go off.

TommyInnit was slain by Dream using [Nightmare]

Dream went off with a bang due to a firework fired from [Rocket Launcher] by Technoblade

Wilbur stares down at the communicator in horror. He glances up desperate to see the same horror echoed in Phil’s face.

Phil doesn’t even look down, instead just staring at him with tears trickling down his cheeks. He’s moved so he’s no longer hiding the back wall. His hand is hovering over a stone button.

“Did I never tell what Eret told us? Before he betrayed us all?” Wilbur shakes his head. Phil smiles a very sad smile, “It was never meant to be.”

A click of a button, the hiss of TNT igniting, the hard impact of Phil slamming into him, the sound of wings fanning out and feathers puffing out into a protective layer.

It all happens so quickly that Wilbur doesn’t have anytime to process it before the sound of utter devastation hits him. The sound of buildings crumbling into dust, the sound of screams, and rockets.

The beeps emitting from their communicators are coming every second.

“Oh my gods,” Wilbur cries out, coughing and spitting when dirt ends up in his mouth. He can’t open his eyes against the dirt and dust that must be lining his face. “Phil!”

Gentle hands wipe at his eyes until he can finally open them again. Phil is staring down at him, the previous grief and tenseness replaced with worry.

“Are you hurt?” Phil demands.

“Oh my gods,” Wilbur whispers as he stares at bloody stumps where wings once were. “Dad. Dad, your wings.”

“Are you hurt?” Phil demands again. The worry replaced with a steely resolve.

Wilbur shakes his head. His hearing hasn’t even been damaged despite how close they both were.

Phil stumbles to his feet, leans his shoulder against a half - broken wall. Wilbur stays laid out against the wall and stares out at the utter devastation of what he assumes had once been a nation. Now there is only rocks and collapsed buildings, people standing the edge of a crater.

He can’t recognize any of them from this distance.

“Wilbur,” Phil says, drawing his attention to him. His tone has gone utterly casual as if he hadn’t just blown up his own nation. “Have you been practicing with a sword like we’ve told you?”

“Y - yes?”

Phil pulls a netherite sword from it’s sheath. He doesn’t look quite right without his wings but even more than that, there’s something gone from behind his eyes. He holds the sword out to Wilbur, “I need you to kill me, Wil.”

“No!” Wilbur says, pulls himself up onto shaking legs. “Phil. Phil, we need to go find our boys. We need to make sure that Tubbo and Niki are alright. I’m not -”

The handle gets pressed into his shaking palm. Phil continues to look completely blank, “Do it, Wilbur.”

“No! Phil. Dad, listen to me. This is nothing. This can be rebuilt in a few weeks. We can salvage what we need to -”

The words catch in his throat as Phil meets his eyes. He takes the handle back out of Wilbur’s limp hand.

“Alright,” he finally says, a hand reaching up to cup Wilbur’s cheek for a moment before falling away. “Alright, Wilbur.”

Wilbur nearly collapses again from the relief, “Thank you. You were scaring me -”

Phil drives the sword through his own stomach. Stumbles backwards with the force.

Wilbur screams. He doesn’t think that he makes any words but if he did then he wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blood pounding in his ears.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur.” Phil mouths, “I’m sorry.”

He stumbles back another step.

It takes him right off the ledge and into the new crater. It’s a free fall that that a mere minute ago he could’ve flown away from. Now, he’s utterly helpless against the gravity pulling him down. Wilbur lunges towards the edge, his hands hanging uselessly where his father had once stood.

He isn’t quick enough.

His father eyes never leave his face.

Philza hit the ground too hard while trying to escape Philza

#text #fanfiction #wilbur soot #philza #role reversal au #hurt/no comfort #this isn't beta'd at all so sorry for any mistakes!#let there be a garden and a man in it

52 notes · View notes

babyybitchhhwrites · 4 years

Text

Shikamaru x Reader 18+

Title: Sleeping In

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 6413

Warnings: Cunnilingus, barebacking, creampie

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482461

♥♥♥♥

Rather than the blaring noise of your alarm, it was the soft nudge of Shikamaru moving against your back that woke you up. A soft rustle of the sheets followed by a dip in the mattress and then the unconscious huff of a man only partially cognizant filtered through the still morning air, drawing you further out of your peaceful slumber.

Groggy and half asleep yourself, you blearily cracked your eyes open to peer over at the clock standing like an ominous sentry among the clutter on the bedside table. There was a little over fifteen minutes left until it would start screaming at you to get up, you realized with some amount of dread. You wanted to drift back off for the remaining time you had but you were already awake and regretfully aware of your surroundings so there was little hope of accomplishing that. It certainly didn’t help that the looming obligation of having to go in to work at the Hokage’s office made you feel ten times more tired than you would have if this had been one of your days off. Being an adult really sucked sometimes.

Shikamaru seemed to settle behind you then and you felt his arm curl around your middle as he snuggled as close to you as he physically could. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling into the pillow as that anxious feeling immediately dissolved as if it were little more than sugar in warm water; thoroughly smothered under the reassuring weight of his body curling around yours like a contented house cat laying in its favorite sunbeam. You instinctively knew you could face anything the world had to throw at you with him at your back like this.

Issuing a low hum of appreciation into the quiet room, you rolled your ass against the flat plane of his hips by way of greeting. He shifted, seemed to realize that you weren’t asleep anymore, and his arm protectively tightened around you in response.

“It’s not time to get up yet, baby.” Shikamaru’s voice was rough and gravelly with lingering traces of sleep and the warm puff of air from his mouth tickled the nape of your neck, making goosebumps erupt across your skin.

You drew a contentedly slow breath, basking in his presence pressed up against you like this. “I know.” You murmured, with just a hint of forlorn melancholy for effect. “I don’t want to go though. Not in fifteen minutes. Not ever.”

“Then don’t.” Was his all too simple answer to your conundrum.

You quietly laughed as you reached under the blankets to cover his bony knuckles with your palm. The body heat coming off him was almost enough to make you forget that the likelihood of finding snow outside was exceedingly high even with spring fast approaching. He was a surprisingly effective substitute for a space heater for being as skinny as he was.

“I have to. Tsunade-sama is expecting that report to be finished today. Plus, there’s that meeting with the councilors.”

Shikamaru snorted and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you. “As fun as that sounds, I’m going to enjoy my day off. I have no intention of leaving this bed before noon.” He let out a quiet sigh before adding, much more softly, “I wish you could stay with me.”

“I do too.”

A quiet moment passed over the bedroom and the only sound you could make out was the steady whisper of breathing. Slow and shallow. Rhythmic. It very nearly lulled you into dozing off again, which you wouldn’t have complained about, but Shikamaru’s thumb tracing nonsensical patterns just above your belly button managed to keep you tethered to reality. The rough callus tickled, only a little bit, and you knew that getting anymore sleep was well and truly a lost cause now. Resigned, you languidly stretched after a prolonged moment only to issue a quiet groan at the resulting series of pops down your spine.

“You could always tell them you’re sick.” He helpfully suggested, dragging his hand down over your abdomen to slip between your parted thighs. You tensed slightly but didn’t protest even when the pressure of his palm cupping possessively around your pussy made an interested spark ignite deep inside your gut. “My dad doesn’t actually need you there to do the paperwork for him. He’s perfectly capable of managing on his own for one day.”

Giggling, you brought your topmost leg down to effectively trap his fingers where they were. “Shikamaru ... are you encouraging me to lie to your own father?”

“Only if it keeps you here in bed with me.”

You rolled your eyes at the far wall but couldn’t exactly deny that the offer was tempting. Just enticing enough to make you seriously consider it. But Shikaku would have your ass if he found out you’d been dishonest with him just to lay up with his son all day and that was to say absolutely nothing about how Tsunade would react. You weren’t so sure you were brave enough to test your luck against the two of them but your resolve started to crumble when Shikamaru rolled the heel of his palm against your clit, just the right amount of teasing pressure to leave you wanting more.

His powers of persuasion were simply too much to contend with sometimes.

“Let’s say I agree to this.” You intoned distractedly. “Are you going to protect me from the Hokage’s wrath tomorrow?”

“To my dying breath.” The sly tone lacing his now much more alert voice attested to the fact that he was already sure of his victory. The absolute ass.

“And your father?” You pushed, trying to convince him as much as yourself that this wasn’t the best-laid plan he’d ever come up with.

Shikamaru’s mouth curled against your shoulder and he laughed. “It doesn’t matter who it is. I’d never let anyone hurt you.” A brief kiss pressed into you through the thin material of your t-shirt, succeeding in its intended purpose of making you want him even more than you already did. “You should know that better than anyone else by now.”

You wanted to curse him for doing this to you but you were nothing if not a slave to your own desire for him. Blindly reaching back to tangle your fingers in his loose hair, you swiveled your hips down against his hand in a slow grind that left you feeling just shy of needy.

He chuckled into your back, contentedly letting you tug at his scalp while he rolled his wrist in time with your tense, halting movements. The pressure sent exquisite jolts of pleasure racing through your body and it didn’t take long at all for the two of you to find an easy rhythm with one another; pushing, pulling and grinding together in tandem. You could feel the spot between your legs steadily dampening as your arousal swelled and you moaned when you felt the rising nudge of his cock against your lower back just a brief moment later. A silent reminder that he wanted you just as bad.

“You’re going to be the death of me at this rate ...”

Releasing a clipped exhale, Shikamaru leaned into you with his weight and half rolled you over so that he was draped across the length of your back. The change in position had you spreading your legs and bracing your topmost knee on the mattress for leverage. Pivoting your hips was made all the easier now and you rode his palm in earnest, grasping at the sheets with an increasingly tighter grip that had them bunching under your fingers.

“That’s funny,” He whispered against the outer shell of your ear, rubbing the hard length of his cock against your upturned ass enticingly slowly. “Sometimes I think the same thing about you.”

You keened, very softly. The pressure Shikamaru was exerting on your eagerly throbbing cunt doubled down at the low noise of wanting you’d issued and he responded with a soft groan of his own. Turning his head, he dipped his mouth down to kiss the side of your neck; pausing every so often to give your thrumming pulse a teasing lovebite. It had you squirming underneath him, desperate for the full brunt of his attention without your clothes in the way.

“Shikamaru ... nngh.”

Grunting in acknowledgment, he started humping you a little more earnestly. His enthusiasm picked up as the red hot desire you were mutually stoking in one another gradually mounted, dragging the hard weight of his cock over the swell of your ass so earnestly that a shudder rippled down his spine. The bed creaked softly as the sharp contours of Shikamaru’s pelvis drove into the plush cushion of your thighs and pushed you forward, bowing your back underneath him. You whimpered in delight and pressed your face into the pillows, arching up to eagerly meet his next thrust.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” He rasped, making your pussy clench in anticipation. “Let me hear those pretty sounds, okay?”

You swallowed hard and tentatively lifted your head. “Aahn .... don’t - nngh - tease me ...”

He drew a pointed breath but the sudden blaring from the alarm beat him to the punch and you both started.

“Shit!”

Shikamaru’s fingers jolted against your cunt and quickly withdrew, shoving the blankets out of the way as he brought his hand up to reach over onto the bedside table. He slammed the button to silence the damn thing so hard that for a split second you actually wondered if he’d broken it. The strange sound it made upon abruptly cutting off didn’t exactly bode well for its longevity.

That thought was short lived though and you promptly forgot all about it when he pulled back to go up on his knees, taking the comforter with him as he tugged at the waistband of your sleep shorts. One good pull was all it took to have them bunched just under the swell of your ass and a fresh wave of pleasant tingles ran up your spine when you felt the chilly morning air hit your exposed backside. The warmth of his hands descended upon the plump globes almost immediately, squeezing and kneading them in a pinching grip that made your breath hitch.

“Seriously though,” You sighed, sounding far more sultry than you’d intended as you peered over your shoulder at him. “We’ll both be on the chopping block if we get caught like this.”

Scoffing, Shikamaru lifted his gaze to fix you with a wry look even as he curled his hands around your hips and easily flipped you over onto your back without much resistance on your part. “We were always going to be in deep shit if we got caught like this so there’s really not any higher risk involved. What with you being the Jounin commanders secretary and me his son, after all. Talk about a conflict of interest.”

He grabbed at the front of your shorts then and you curled your legs up so he could tug them down and off. They were carelessly tossed over the edge of the bed and he promptly lowered himself to nestle between your thighs, jostling you slightly with the movement. You felt yourself flush hot when his intentions became clear, happily relenting when he nudged your thighs further apart.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t care anymore?” He asked mildly.

“That depends.” You murmured, your heartbeat picking up a little bit as you watched Shikamaru dip his face to press a lingering kiss to the apex of your mound. “Prove it.”

The confident smirk that slashed across his pouty mouth would’ve been enough to convince you all on its own but then he shimmied a little further down the mattress and bent close to your bare cunt. Dark lashes fluttered shut against the apples of his cheeks, savoring the moment as he tilted his head and slotted his mouth over your slit. You jolted slightly at the hot, wet warmth; lips parting on a silent groan as he kissed you, slow and steady, gradually working your labia apart with the motion. The moment his tongue flicked out to get its first taste made you twitch and hiss at the sensation, curling your toes against the sheets. His warm breath fanned out across your pelvis on a quiet sound of satisfaction, feeling almost like the barely there caress of spectral fingertips. It was enough to make you completely forget your obligation to the Hokage. To his father. The whole damn village.

With a low exhale, you arched into his mouth and brought your hands down to thread them through coarse, ink-black hair. Shikamaru issued a noise of encouragement against your pussy, the hint of vibration making you clench as he leaned his scalp into the cradle of your palms. His eyes flashed open a brief moment later and he peered up the length of your body to pin you with a hooded look that was indescribably attractive, particularly while he was dragging the flat of his tongue over your clit. You trembled, brows knitting together when a roiling pang of desire shot through you.

“You’re always such a tease ...”

One of those sharp, thin brows quirked up in amusement and he nuzzled into you, opening his jaw wider. The impossibly soft, wet cavern of his mouth enveloped the tingling nub and you seethed through your teeth when he gave it a torturously slow suck. He issued another rumbling groan and did it again, slowly suckling at your cunt in a rhythm that seemed to match your heartbeat. The quick flick of his tongue intermittently lashing out to prod your clit made you groan a little harder, a little louder; and you tipped your head back against the pillows as you spread your legs wider apart for him.

“Oooh ... Shikamaru …!”

He grunted a low sound of mirth, burying his nose further into the plushy give of your mound. Tongue slipping past his teeth once again, he took his time slowly tracing circles around the sensitive pleasure button nestled between your folds while unhurriedly working his way inward. You were trembling softly by the time he brushed against the center of your clit what seemed a small eternity later and your grip on his hair tightened. Back and forth. Up and down. His attack on your body was sure and precise, alternating between feather-light strokes and grinding it down with the flat of his tongue. It had you shaking with rapidly mounting ecstasy, twitching and writhing on top of the sheets as you softly keened up at the ceiling.

“Aahhn .... Ahh! Right there ...”

Wetly smacking his lips as if you were the sweetest dessert he’d ever tasted, Shikamaru lifted his head to draw a strained, faltering breath. You watched as though through a dreamy haze as the pink of his tongue darted out to lick his lips and lap up the evidence of your arousal. Those dark, dark brown eyes roved up to regard you again, glinting with mischief and surety alike as he slowly smirked at your flustered expression.

“Who’s to say I don’t want you to cum on my cock instead of my face? Hmm?”

The way you trembled underneath him at the low, seedy promise in his voice did not go unnoticed and he chuckled softly when you fitfully tugged at his hair. Lowering his face again, Shikamaru took a long, wet lick up the length of your slit and you gasped.

“Why can’t I have both?” You mewled, jutting your pelvis to give him better access.

He offered you a shrug of his thin shoulders and affectionately nuzzled against your core, the tip of his nose just barely teasing your clit. “We have all day, love. There’s no rush.”

That little reminder that you were skipping out on work made your stomach settle like a lead weight. You started to sit up, already taking a breath to announce that you had to send a message to the Hokage’s office before everyone started to wonder at your absence, but Shikamaru was quick to curl his arms under your thighs and flatten his palms across your abdomen.

“Calm down. You’d still be getting ready right now so we have time.” He said, smiling up at you when you opened your mouth to protest. “Just relax. Let me take care of it.”

You couldn’t have missed the double entendre even if you’d wanted to and you hesitated a moment before gradually easing back onto the mattress. He looked quite smug as he made himself more comfortable, nudging even closer before closing his open mouth over the apex of your slit again. Stiffening, you slipped your hands down off his head in favor of clutching at his wide hands where they were still keeping you pinned and he promptly picked right back up where he’d left off. Your thighs started shaking almost immediately, making you suck in a faltering inhale as white hot static surged throughout your cunt and into the rest of you.

“Ooh, shit ...!”

Shikamaru issued a breathless laugh against your soaked pussy, burying his face between your thighs so he could worry your clit between his lips. The slow simmering flames burning within you roiled and heaved, making the rest of your body feel pleasantly oversensitized even as the heat of ecstasy continued to pool directly into your loins. You could tell you were edging dangerously close to the edge when your hips began twitching under his ministrations and you twisted, arching into the air even as you swiveled your hips to grind against Shikamaru’s face. Clearly recognizing your tells for exactly what they were, he withdrew his tongue and sealed his mouth around your clit and sucked. Hard.

“Aaah - nngaaah ...!” Blinding starbursts erupted across your vision as you went ramrod stiff against the bed, gasping raggedly. “Shika - aaahn!”

You were vaguely aware of his mouth curling against your soaked cunt and then he slowly leaned back, tugging on your clit until it slipped past his lips. The sharp sensation of having that throbbing little nub toyed with so relentlessly had you writhing and bracing your feet against the mattress so you could enthusiastically jut your pelvis up for more. Shikamaru was altogether uncooperative though and he turned his head to press a rough kiss to your soft inner thigh, smearing a viscous mix of arousal and spit across your skin in the process. You hissed emphatically, trembling even as you brought your knees together and sandwiched his face between your legs with a frustrated little whine.

“That’s not fair ...!”

Dragging his hands up from your hips, he gave the pliable soft meat of your thighs a tight squeeze as his attention flitted up to coolly regard you from under the fall of dark lashes. “All's fair in love and war, baby. You know that.”

You pulled your lower lip in a pout and warningly flexed your legs around his head. “Is that so?”

He offered you a cocky, lopsided grin, entirely unperturbed. “Well, I can’t say I necessarily agree with that statement in a broader sense but in this case at least, I think the point stands. Don’t act like you don’t love what I do to you.”

Unable to stop it, you smiled right back at him. He was right and both of you knew that. The slow buildup he was so adept at torturing you with would just make the explosive crescendo all the more satisfying and when he gave your leg a soft pat, you readily eased up the tension keeping your knees together.

Shikamaru pushed against the bed and rose up on his knees to loom above you. The plain black, oversized t-shirt he’d gone to bed in was yanked over his head in one smooth motion and tossed to the side, exposing the long, lean line of his body. You licked your lips hungrily, watching the muscles in his stomach dance just below the skin. He didn’t allow you much time to ogle him though, shuffling close to kneel between your parted legs before reaching out to hook his broad hands under your armpits and tug.

You giggled when he effortlessly pulled you up into a sitting position, bringing your hands up to squeeze at his narrow hips. He smiled at you, warm and unguarded as he could be only when you were alone like this. The sight of him looking so happy was enough to have your pussy and heart throbbing in equal measure, and it took everything you had not to start swooning right on the spot.

Oblivious to your thought, his long fingers came up to affectionately brush the side of your face before trailing down to grab the hem of your shirt. It came off as quickly as his had, exposing your tightly puckered nipples to the cool air, and you shuddered even as you lifted your hands to pull at the hem of his sweatpants. You’d never been so glad for elastic waistbands as you were when his straining cock popped up into the scant space separating you two, blissfully free of the restrictive clothing.

Shikamaru issued a low sound of approval, palming your breast in one hand and possessively squeezing the supple swell of flesh while the other came up to curl around your neck. You leaned into the covetous gesture as you wrapped your fingers around the hard length proudly jutting from his pelvis, tilting your face up when he leaned close to press his mouth over yours. The exchange was chaste and savory in deference to the fact that neither of you had brushed your teeth yet, and you issued a quiet groan against his lips as you steadily pumped him with a gentle roll of your wrist that made him sigh through his nose.

A soft, wet click rose up between your bodies when you tugged the meat of his foreskin down just enough to expose the glans. There was a fat drop of precum beading on the tip and you lifted your thumb to gently smooth over it, smearing the sticky slick across the head of him. Shikamaru groaned in response, breaking apart from the kiss with a low sound of wanting as he sat back on his haunches to look at you. His eyes were resting at an attractive half-mast, lips parted in a crooked, pouty ‘o’ and the faint dusting of pink on his round cheeks effectively reminded you just how much you loved him. He was easily the most attractive man you’d ever known with his smooth jawline and sharp facial features, and the fact you were lucky enough to call him yours just made your heart swell.

Reaching out to brush a loose strand of thick, coarse hair behind his ear, you gave his cock a slow tug. “I wish you could see yourself right now.”

He snorted a quiet sound of mirth and shot you a meaningful look from under the fall of his lashes. “That should have been my line. You look wrecked and all I’ve done so far is eat you out …”

“Well, you’re very good at it.” You offered him a salacious smile as you pulled, bunching the tip of his foreskin with another quiet click before rolling it down under the ridged glans in one smooth motion.

The furrow between Shikamaru’s brow deepened and he shuddered at the sensation. His gaze darted down to watch you drag your palm down towards the base until the mess of black curls there brushed your knuckles. He tightened his hold on your neck then and pulled you close, leaning forward to meet you halfway. Your foreheads bumped together and the two of you stayed like that, alternating between looking into the others face and peering down at what you were doing to his cock.

“Now who’s being the tease?” He huffed, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb over your tightly puckered nipple.

You arched into the touch with a sharp inhale. “You’re welcome to come take me whenever you want …”

Mouth curling in a lopsided smirk, Shikamaru sent you a long look from just a scant few inches away. You could see the familiar glint of fond endearment reflecting back at you and when he drew a haltingly slow breath that made his shoulders lift, you licked your lips in anticipation. “When you say things like that, it makes it hard for me not to act like a brute.”

“I might like it.”

He laughed, low and quiet; angling close to brush the tip of his nose against yours. You returned the gesture, never once breaking eye contact, and when he leaned further into you just a short moment later, you readily let him push you back against the pillows. Shikamaru followed you down, taking his rightful spot on top of you as he seamlessly slotted his hips between your thighs. You felt his straining cock nudge your cunt, tracking more arousal across your labia when it slipped through your drenched folds. A faltering groan rolled off your tongue as you brought your arms up to link them around his neck, trying to pull him down to rest against you, but he continued to hover over you with one hand braced against the mattress.

The other slipped into the tight space between you two, reaching not for his cock but for your sopping wet cunt. You jolted slightly when you felt the pads of two fingers press down on your clit, drawing tight circles around it, and the high strung arousal from only a few minutes ago immediately came rushing back at full force in a blinding surge.

“Ahh!”

Biting down on your lower lip to stifle your cries of pleasure, you tilted your head back to fix him with an imploring look. Shikamaru attentively regarded you for a prolonged beat, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure while your body twitched against him, and the strand of hair you’d tucked behind his ear only a short while ago slowly slipped forward to hang over his temple again. You wanted to reach up and push it back, curl your fingers against his scalp and hold it in place, but with a twist of his wrist he was suddenly prodding at your entrance and you couldn’t think straight.

“Shikamaru!” You blurted, digging your nails into his back.

A sly edge crept across his expression and camped there as he breached your entrance with the tips of his fingers in torturous slow motion before suddenly withdrawing them. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.” He repeated the same action twice more, just barely dipping into your body and then immediately pulling back out. It had you clenching down on nothing and letting loose a frazzled groan into the statically charged air.

“I need to cum on your cock,” You choked out, trying once again to pull him down on top of you. “Please …”

Shikamaru acquiesced this time and a reverberating groan rumbled deep in his chest as he settled against you, the pliable swell of your breasts squishing against the firm expanse of pecs. You invitingly arched against him even as you brought your legs up to hook them around the small of his back, trying to nudge him closer with the balls of your feet. Shikamaru’s attention was focused on guiding himself to your waiting entrance though and you both seethed in unison when the glans started to sink inside. The stretch gradually grew more intense one torturous fraction at a time until you were blinking through a film of stinging tears, your mouth hanging open in stricken ecstasy. The further he reached inside your body, the harder it was to stay grounded and you finally threw your head back with a half choked moan just as he settled against you at long last.

“God,” He breathed out, sounding like even that much was a struggle. “You have no idea how good you look when I’m inside you, baby. You really don’t.”

You drew a shuddering inhale. “It feels good …!”

“I gathered as much.” Shikamaru murmured laughingly as he bent close to press a bruising kiss to your jaw, his narrow chest working against yours. “I’ll start to get a big head if you’re not careful.”

“You already had a big head.” Whimpering softly, you turned to shove your face into his shoulder and muffle the last bit. “And I don’t mean your ego.”

That didn’t stop him from hearing it though and Shikamaru issued another breathless laugh as he flattened himself flush against you, working his arms between your back and the mattress. “Mean girl.” He mumbled in a fond tone.

You smiled against his skin, feeling like you were floating somewhere between this plane and the next as he slowly angled his hips back. The drag of his stiff cock against your spongy inner wall made you feel lightheaded and dizzy, head lolling on the pillow as you braced for what was coming next. You were much too far gone, lost in the rosey daze of carnal pleasure, to realize that you should have left about ten minutes ago and the thought never even crossed your mind when he pushed back in straight down to the base. A grunt on his end and a staggered gasp on yours with an accompanying wet squelch of your body sucking him in deep. That was all you could focus on at the moment and you clung to him as he started up a steady rhythm of push and pull, the soft thunk of your headboard meeting the wall helping set the tempo.

Shoving his face into the crook of your neck, Shikamaru seethed with every downward lunge while his fingers dug into your ribs hard enough to bruise. The onslaught of stimuli was overwhelming in the best possible way and you heaved for air as the space between your bodies quickly grew stiflingly hot and sweaty. It made your flesh stick to his, abrasively pulling at the soft expanse of your tummy where it was pressed flat to the hard line of his stomach. Your breasts were in the same boat and you mewled when you felt the soft skin of his nipple drag across yours, sending explosive shockwaves racing down the curve of your spine.

You writhed under him and locked your ankles together over the small of his back, clutching at him in your desperation. Shikamaru’s quiet groans rose in pitch when your pussy clamped down on him with a warning tremor so strong that it seemed to bleed right through you and into him. Slowing to a shuddering halt, he took a moment to steady himself and he used the opportunity to grind against your soaked core with a stuttering pivot of his hips. The coarse hair at the base of his cock teased your clit with the motion, making you teeter that much more closely to the brink of release and the added pressure on your quaking guts instantly had you shaking uncontrollably around him.

“Shika - aaahn! Shikamaru! I’m gonna’ cum! Please! Nnnghh … don’t stop!”

Sucking in a haggard breath, he resumed his earlier thrusting with noticeably more urgent enthusiasm. He wanted you to find release on his cock, basked in the knowledge that he could make you shatter with his own body the same way some men took pride in the knowledge that they could go for hours without ever stopping to ask if their partner had been satisfied at any point during that time. You’d been there and done that before, and as a result you hadn’t thought the sheer heights of ecstasy Shikamaru took you to could actually exist before you’d met him. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling to know your pleasure was so important to him and you happily let the cresting waves of building tension swallow you up even when they threatened to suffocate you with the sheer intensity of the sensation.

The headboard was now banging against the wall loudly enough that there would be no mistaking the reason, and you idly hoped your neighbor was away on a mission. You weren’t so sure if you could survive the embarrassment of receiving a formal noise complaint, particularly not when the pressure in your throbbing cunt doubled down and you suddenly realized that you were wailing Shikamaru’s name up at the ceiling.

“Shhh. It’s okay, baby.” He rasped, panting into your neck so vigorously that you could actually feel the moisture beading between the two of you. “I - nnghn. I’ve got you! Cum on my cock so I can fill you up, okay?”

The mental image of him releasing deep inside you added on to the potent memory of him doing just that many times before made you seize, releasing such a stricken shriek of delight that you sounded possessed to your own ears. There was no stopping it though and you heaved once, twice - the tense muscles of your fluttering pussy staying locked in dizzying overload for the beat of two seconds - and then the coil snapped. You jerked under Shikamaru so hard that the bed slammed into the wall with enough force to make the contents of the nightstand clatter. You probably would have shot right off his dick if he’d let you but, true to his word, he held tight. Keeping his arms linked around your convulsing body, he fucked you right through your orgasm and into his own until your cunt was a pulppy, churning mess and he was shooting ropes of hot spunk against your cervix. His off kilter groaning rose in pitch and joined yours, the two of you shaking against one another for what felt like a small eternity.

Shikamaru was the first to come down and he went boneless on top of you, trying to catch his breath even as he nuzzled into while you rode out the lingering tremors of orgasm. Your shuddering passage clamped around him in rapidly weakening contractions a few more times before stilling altogether and you let out a flusteredly gratified puff of air that made his hair shift against your cheek. Slowly letting up the tension keeping your legs curled around his waist, you let them slide down the backs of his slim thighs to hook in the bends of his knees. Both of you were sweaty, tangled up messes but the contentment radiating around you was practically palpable. You’d never dreamed sex could be so satisfying.

It was the plush give of Shikamaru’s lips on your neck that finally drew you back to reality and you turned your head, pressing a kiss of your own to the outer shell of his ear. You felt his lips curl into a smug grin and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling too. It was infectious.

“I think you’re slowly getting louder and louder.” He murmured softly.

“Shut up.” You laughed, bringing one hand up to tangle in his hair and cradle the back of his skull while the other looped across his broad shoulders.

Shikamaru breathed a deep sigh of contentment as he shifted on top of you, seemingly getting more comfortable. A few minutes passed in this fashion and it seemed inevitable that the two of you would drift off in each other's arms when an abrupt knock at your front door startled you both awake.

“I’ll get it.” He grumbled and sat up, though not without a yawn to go with his compliance.

You giggled, rolling over onto your side so you could watch him stumble out of bed and back into his sweatpants. The urge to reach out and playfully smack his ass had just gotten the better of you when another knock sounded at the door, but this time it was accompanied by a voice.

Shikaku-taichou’s voice.

You’d recognize it anywhere and you froze, arm still stretched out on its aborted mission. Shikamaru’s expression visibly paled as he shot you a quick, surreptitious glance and you both seemed to realize that neither of you had sent word to the Hokage’s office regarding your absence at the same time. The twin looks of dawning horror probably would’ve been quite comical had the circumstances been any different.

“I’ll answer the door,” You whispered, heart in your throat as you jumped up to find your clothes. The thick, goopy mess between your legs promptly made itself known and you winced. “Hurry up and hide, just let me handle this.”

“Oh, like that’s going to do any good.” Shikamaru snipped as he frantically looked around for his discarded shirt. “That’s the Jounin commander out there and my father! If it was that easy to hide from him, he wouldn’t be your boss right now.”

You threw your hands up in frustration and spun around to face him, suddenly finding yourself standing chest to chest with your (secret) boyfriend. The two of you hesitated, regarding each other for a quiet moment of uncertainty. “What do we do?” You finally asked him in a small voice.

Shikamaru opened his mouth to speak but it was Shikaku’s words drifting through the front door that answered your question, much to your mortifying shame.

“Look, I know my son is in there with you so you don’t need to try and hide it. I’ve known about you guys for some time now, actually. Just let me in so we can talk, alright?”

He didn’t sound particularly upset, more tiredly weary than anything else, but you still felt certain you’d die from embarrassment alone. A brief look at Shikamaru quickly assured you that you weren’t the only one feeling that way and you reached out to comfortingly take his hand. You’d never seen his face so beat red in all the time you’d known him. Even the time he’d slipped on ice and landed flat on his ass when he’d been trying to show off in front of you hadn’t made him look quite this humiliated.

“It’ll be okay.” You assured him in a soft tone. “Let’s just talk to him, okay?”

Forcibly shrugging off his shellshocked daze, Shikamaru peered into your face for a long moment while those big brown eyes darted back and forth over your features in search of an answer. Then, so imperceptibly you almost missed it, he squeezed your fingers with a cautiously optimistic smile. “Okay. Let’s tallk.”

#naruto #shikamaru x reader #shikamara nara #self insert bullshit #My writing

334 notes · View notes

readyourimgaines · 4 years

Text

Age Doesn’t Mean Much

Summary: Five times the BAU remembered Reid’s younger than them plus one time they were violently reminded he’s not a child.

Spoiler/Trigger Warning: The entire ending of the second season’s 15th episode: Revelations.

Dr. Spencer Reid was merely 21 when SSA Jason Gideon convinced him to join the BAU. With the exception of Aaron Hotchner (who had also read the young doctor’s file) the team wasn’t sure how to feel about the inexperienced man.

Other than giving a pointer or two to a professor lecturing on a cold case, Reid had no experience working in the field. The others figured that was why the poor kid pushed himself so hard: to prove himself.

Right after the first case, Elle stopped talking down to him. Half way through the same case, Morgan decided he’d taken the doctor under his wing. JJ was the first of Hotch’s subordinates to warm up to Reid. Their friendship was an awkward one for a couple of days. To an outsider, it looked as though a childhood friend was trying to help the other through a bout of amnesia.

Though the team never again questioned Reid’s ability on the field, there were times when they were suddenly reminded of Reid’s age.

1: Trying to Balance on a Curb While Walking

Hotch lost count of how many times Jack would walk on the curb, one foot in the front of the other, both arms outstretched for extra balance. Almost always, one of Jack’s hands would be firmly holding one of his father’s. SSA Hotchner almost laughed at himself when he nearly held Reid’s hand on instinct.

Reid and Hotch were walking alone to get lunch for the unit while between cases back home. They’d been walking side-by-side while Reid babbled happily about the last book he finished. Hotch contently listened, his mind occasionally wondering.

Hotch’s mind was pulled back to reality from one of its wonderings when his hand had brushed against Reid’s. The doctor’s hand quickly formed into a fist as he concentrated on his balance, his lips pressed tightly together. While Jack had his arms stretched straight out, Reid held his at more of a slant.

One thing Hotch quickly noticed, and was surprised the scientifically minded doctor missed, was that Reid’s ever present satchel was throwing him off balance.

“Reid.”

“Hm?”

“Let me hold onto your bag.” Hotch held his hand out to take the leather bag.

“Why?” Reid’s foot touched down on the road as he lost balance now that he was doing more with his brain than focussing on his footing.

“It's a hypothesis.” Hotch smirked but Reid missed it, not taking his eyes off his sneakers.

Carefully, as not to fall, Reid removed his satchel and held it out, blindly, for Hotch to take. The older agent held it by the shorted of the two handles as he continued to walk alongside Reid.

Hotch chuckled to himself upon seeing the look on Reid’s face. The young doctor was looking at his feet, almost in awe. He hadn’t needed to touch down since Hotch took the bag half a block back.

Once he walked two blocks on the curb- without losing balance- Reid was content and took his bag back, putting it back over his shoulder so the pouch of it bounced against the opposite hip.

“Did you know the position of an object’s center of gravity affects its stability? The higher the center of gravity is, the easier it is for the object to fall. That’s why a small boat- like a kayak or canoe- is less likely to tip if the occupants are seated lower in the boat.

“Textbooks usually demonstrate this with either a bus and or two cars of different heights and lengths…”

2: Mismatched Socks

One of the first things Emily Prentiss noticed about Reid were his mismatched socks. Of course, the other BAU members noticed it too, but they never questioned it. It’s just part of who Reid was. Curiosity got the better of SSA Prentiss.

“Reid?”

The doctor looked up from his case file. “Yeah?”

“Why do you never wear matched socks?” She looked down at Reid’s ankles and he followed her gaze. One lavender sock, one pink with blue stripes.

“My uh- When I was a kid, my mom would tell me it was bad luck to wear matching socks.” Reid pulled the lavender sock back up to where it should be.

“That doesn’t sound like something that could be scientifically verified.” A slight smirk spread across Emily’s face.

Reid huffed slightly. “The night I was taken by Tobias… It was the first time I wore matching socks in five years. Burgundy with orange stripes.” Reid blinked heavily, clenching his eyes shut. “I don’t wear socks if they match.” He paused again. “Besides, matching socks are boring. Some people say socks should be a shade darker than their pants or a shade lighter than the shoes- Hotch does the former.

“Also, 82% of men in my age bracket wear mismatched socks at least once a week because we keep losing one of a pair. And a family of four- on average- loses 60 socks a year.”

3: Playing With Jell-O

Reid loved Jell-O. No-one was really sure why, but didn’t ask, either. Everyone had their favorite dessert, so maybe Jell-O was just his? He liked cake, sure, but he didn’t eat it nearly as often as he ate Jell-O.

On jet rides back home, no-one ever knew what conversations were bound to come up. This week’s was what the team was going to do with a three day weekend and morphed into best desserts.

“What about you, Reid?” Prentiss drew Reid from his train of thought.

“Hm?”

“You like Jell-O, don’t you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan checked.

“Yeah.”

“Not even Henry likes Jell-O,” JJ smiled at the thought of her young son.

“It doesn’t have much of a taste,” Rossi added.

“I think that’s part of why I like it, actually.” Reid fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“Because it tastes like watered down Kool-Aid?” Rossi frowned.

“Yeah. All the other foods are so strong and Jell-O’s not. It’s cool, but not cold, and it’s fun to play with.”

A ghost of a smile danced across Hotch’s face. “Jack likes playing with it. He gets sad when I don’t buy finger Jell-O on accident.”

“That’s the only kind I buy.” Reid nodded. “The red is my least favorite- It takes like Red 40.”

“What is your favorite kind, then?” Rossi couldn’t help but ask.

“Pineapple. Minimal amounts of dyes and you can see through it.”

“No numbers about Jell-O?” Prentiss challenged with a grin.

JJ, Hotch, and Morgan all smiled while Rossi teasily groaned. The groan got a smile from Reid too.

“Actually, in the US, the Jell-O brand is recognized- by name and product- by 99% of the populous.” Spencer chortled. “That means that if you got a group of 100 people together, only one person would have no idea what Jell-O is.”

4: Doodles on Everything

Dr. Spencer Reid didn’t always carry his leather satchel with him. Hotch more or less ordered him to get a notebook he could keep in a pocket. The unit chief didn’t care if Reid drew on his arms. The unit chief cared when Reid jotted down notions or points for the running case.

Garcia loved Reid’s little doodles and had a decently sized collection. She referred to him as a “chronic doodler”. The analysis tech found it almost funny that someone as brilliant and talented as Reid had so little artistic skill outside of his geographic profiling maps.

Reid knew full well that Garcia collected his doodles. After a particularly stressful case- which always resulted in more doodles, Reid would sign and dare the flip book page before tearing it out and leaving it in Garcia’s bunker.

There were times when Reid would doodle on his arm rather than the flip book simple because it was more convenient. That didn’t mean Garcia didn’t see those ones. No, no, no. These ones, Reid would take pictures of and send to Garcia when a case was getting to her.

Morgan talked to Garcia more than anyone else on a case. Whether or not Penelope voiced her unease, Morgan- ever the profiler- could tell. He’d have Reid a certain look and the younger man would send Garcia texts of his doodles- evenly spaced- throughout the case. If he did the math and found he didn’t have enough, nothing stopped him from drawing a couple more.

Hotch and Gideon thought of the times their sons would draw a picture or make them a card when they had a bad day at work. Morgan was reminded of the beaded bracelets his sisters used to make him when he was injured in football or his team lost a game.

The one hitch with their theory? Garcia was the one person who got to keep the drawings. Not even Reid kept them. She knew this fact and gloated about it to the team whenever she got a new one. All of her computer screens in her bunker had a different doodle as the screen saver.

5: Dependent on the Team

For the most part, the BAU stuck to themselves after hours if they weren’t going out for drinks. Reid was the one exception and the rest of the team found they didn’t mind.

JJ was the first one he texted. The message was a simple worded question: How can you tell the difference between romantic feelings and transference? The gentle blonde took it upon herself to explain to the doctor that he’d know when he was in love because how being near the person or even just thinking about them made him feel.

The media liaison assumed she’d never really see the person Reid texted her about that Sunday evening. She was a little less than shocked to see the light in the young doctor’s eyes shift when Morgan wandered into the bullpen Monday morning.

A month passed before JJ got a message along the lines of the one she was expecting: Reid asking for advice on how to ask someone out. How to better the wording, how to keep from straying off the point.

The next day, he texted Elle about flowers: I have a date next weekend. Are flowers too forward?

Elle smiled down at her phone, at Reid’s innocence. She told him that flowers were a nice and caring gesture, but that he’d want to be careful with what flowers he got because different flowers sent different messages.

This was the first of this Reid was hearing. He thanked Elle and thought more. Hotch was married. He must know a decent amount about flowers and such romantic ideas, right? So he texted Hotch: Do you know anything about flower symbolism? Elle says flowers have different messages to them.

Hotch chuckled, getting Haley’s attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you remember Dr. Spencer Reid?” Hotch looked at the blonde.

“He’s the shy, Autistic boy, right?” Haley glanced up from feeding Jack.

“Yeah. He’s nervous about an upcoming date and texted to see if I know anything about flowers.” Hotch’s thumb was dancing across the flip-phone’s buttons.

“What are you telling him?”

“That roses have the highest chance of getting him in his date’s bed. Pink camellias and carnations are signs of love and longing; ivy means friendship.” Hotch typed this by naming the flowers, placing an equal sign, and the meaning.

“Do you know who his date is?”

“Not as far as Reid and his date are concerned.”

So yes, he did.

Friday morning- the morning before his date- Reid sat by himself on the jet ride home, trying to read a book he brought. He couldn’t focus on it for the life of him. He’d been staring at the same page for then minutes. He jumped a little when Gideon sat down across from him.

“What has you so nervous?”

“Noth-” Reid stopped short. That wasn’t the right word; the date meant everything to him. “I uh… I have a date tomorrow evening and I’m worried, I guess. I’ve never actually been on a date, but I really like this person.”

“Okay. So what about it has you worked up?” Gideon’s eyes were gentle and fatherly.

Reid thought about how to answer the question. “We’ve been friends for a while and I don’t- I don’t want to mess up so badly that he doesn’t want to be friends-” Reid froze, his eyes wide. “G-Gideon, I-”

“There’s nothing wrong.” The older man squeezed the younger’s shoulder. “If your friend know you as well as you know him, I think it’s safe to say he’s not too worried about the friendship failing. Sometimes, Reid, you have to take a leap of faith.”

+One: “I choose...Aaron Hotchner.”

“Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Click. “Choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

Click. “Choose.”

“I...I choose...Aaron Hotchner. He’s a classic narcissist. He thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4, “Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.”

Bang. Raphael took a bullet from Tobais’ pocket and held it up, showing it to Reid. “For God’s will.”

Morgan’s heart shattered at seeing his boyfriend crouched over the body of his captor and tormentor. The side of Reid’s head was coated in dry blood, he was avoiding putting weight on his sock-less foot.

Reid limped his way over to Hotch and hesitantly put a hand on his superior’s arm as though he wasn’t sure the man was there. The young man quickly and tightly hugged Hotch.

“I knew you’d understand.”

JJ was the next to hug Reid, the doctor losing his balance slightly and the liaison easily caught him.

“I am so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The second JJ let go of Reid, Morgan stepped forward and pulled Reid into as tight of a hug as he dared. He needed to feel his boyfriend in his arms but he’d seen the same video as everyone else and didn’t want to hurt him more.

Prentiss was shocked and looked at JJ with wide eyes when Morgan kissed Reid and the doctor eagerly reciprocated. The blonde just smiled.

*****

@stxrryspencer @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @the-need-for-reid-speed

#read your imagines #combefere's journal #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #elle greenaway #jennifer jj jareau #jason gideon #derek morgan #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #moreid #moreid imagine

174 notes · View notes

kinglazrus · 3 years

Text

Not Your Danny – Ch 5. Fresh Air

Previous | First | Next | FFN | AO3

Word count: 3075

Dani hesitates at the top of the stairs. The lab door, when closed, looks comically when compared to the rest of the house. Set halfway down the hall that bisects the house, from either end, the doorway appears normal. When you get closer, however, and the door itself comes into view, a smattering of warning signs greets your eyes. The yellow and black stripes, the deep red biohazard symbol, one bright green sign that just reads GHOSTS AHEAD!, are the only pops of colour against the off-white walls.

The signs draw the eye to a comical degree. They remind Dani of cheap Halloween decorations, slapped on the nearest empty surface in the hopes that more signs equal more scares.

It's not as funny when the door is open. Metal plating gleams along the walls, some of the seams between them crusted with dried ectoplasm. More stains litter the stairs, left by careless, unclean feet. Far below, the pristine white tiles of the lab floor are lit by a soft green glow.

She hasn't even entered the lab, but just a glimpse of the room below transports her back to Vlad's place in Wisconsin and that cold room where she spent hours alone. It was the worst before she learned how to go intangible, when she was stuck with nowhere to go. Vlad didn't have the time to go down to the lab every day, but when he could, he worked feverishly on making newer, better clones than her.

"Siblings for you," Vlad called them, but Dani knows the truth now. Replacements, since she hadn't been good enough for him.

So many times, Vlad made a clone that was almost stable, almost life-like, but they would die overnight. Dani could never take her eyes away from it, no matter how much it horrified her. Seeing other clones melt away to nothing, their skin sloughing off, muscle dripping from their bones until those, too, liquified into nothing.

If Vlad had known Danny was transgender, maybe he wouldn't have seen Dani as such a failure. He might have loved her properly—or at all.

She doesn't want to go down the stairs, not when such horrible memories are already clamouring for attention. But Maddie is down there, and it might be hours before she comes upstairs. Bracing herself against the wall, Dani leans forward on her toes and calls down. "Maddie?"

Although she can hear shuffling coming from below, she gets no answer.

"Maddie?" she says again, a little louder.

Still no answer.

Swallowing her nerves, Dani goes down the steps. She keeps her arms in, even as her legs shake and threaten to give out on her, she doesn't want to touch the walls. Her gaze doesn't stray from her feet, either, fixed firmly on where she is stepping. When she reaches the last stair, she squeezes her eyes shut.

It's fine. This isn't Vlad's lab. There might be some similarities, they aren't the same. Like her and Danny.

I am at Fenton Works. I am at home. I am at Fenton Works. She repeats the mantra over and over. Her heart doesn't stop pounding, but eventually, she has to look up or turn back around, and she doesn't want to give up now. Steeling herself, she looks up and opens her eyes.

It's not Vlad's lab.

Of course, it isn't. Dani knew that the whole time. Actually seeing it, however, fills her with relief. Instead of bubbling vats full of half-formed bodies, they have long counters full of inventions. Although the floors have a few scuffs and some noticeable burn marks, there are no dubious stains of questionable origin.

The only true similarity Dani can find is the specimen cabinet. Its glass doors reveal the rows upon rows of ectoplasmic samples hidden inside. The vials sit on labelled racks, sorted through some mysterious method Dan is not privy to.

One rack, near the front of the cabinet, is labelled PHANTOM, DANI. Out of the four vials, two are empty, the third is missing, and the fourth—her blood sample— is half-full. Looking around at all the weapons down here, Dani hopes her samples went to good use. The last thing she wants is one of these guns firing at her without warning.

Dani finds the missing vial with Maddie on the other side of the lab. Maddie sits at one of two desks, hers far neater than the other. The vial of ectoplasm, still capped, rests by Maddie's elbow. In front of her, a gun sprawls out in pieces. Maddie's head is lowered over the gun as she works on it.

"Maddie?" Dani asks.

Maddie takes a deep breath before looking up. She can't hide the slight widening of her eyes when she sees Dani's human face, but she doesn't flee, which is a vast improvement from last time. "Yes, dear?"

"Is it okay if I go out somewhere?"

"Of course. Where do you want to go?"

"Nowhere in particular. I haven't left the house since I got here."

"Really? That can't be right."

"It is." To be completely honest, Dani hadn't been sure if she was allowed to leave. The Fentons never laid out any ground rules for staying with them. Nor did they let her in on what a usual household day is like. After a week and a half, Dani has figured out more or less how things go, but only now does she realize that the Fentons never did anything to accommodate her.

Not that she knows what accommodations she needs, but it's odd, isn't it? Someone new moves in and they keep doing what they have always done.

"I didn't even notice," Maddie admits. "I'm so used to D—the kids doing whatever they want as long as they aren't out late. You don't need to ask us if you want to go somewhere." She leans back over the dismantled gun, grabbing a core piece with a dozen little wires sticking out of it. "Don't forget to text. And be home by curfew, young man."

—

Depends on when that is.

Maddie's mind fills in the automatic response, a perfect copy of Danny's usual snark. Several seconds pass before she realizes no one said it out loud. She glances up from her work and finds herself alone in the lab. Dani left without saying anything. The discovery cuts her deeper than it has any right to.

Maddie's parting remark runs through her head again. She gasps, finally registering what she said, and drops the barrel component in her hand.

She goes over her parting remark in her head and gasps. She didn't mean to say that. The words rose instinctively to her lips, spoken without any consideration of who she had been talking to. It was such a small thing, too; a meaningless ritual built between Danny and Maddie over the years.

"Be home by curfew," she would say.

"Depends on when that is," he would answer.

When was the last time she and Danny had this exchange? It only happened when he told her he was going out, which wasn't very often in recent years, but the instinct was still there. Maddie presses a hand against her eyes.

Danny's absence resonated throughout Fenton Works, but little moments like this cut deeper than they should. All their little rituals. Backwash soda. Small things Maddie didn't realize she would miss until they were gone. And at the centre of it all was Dani, subject to Maddie's moments of weakness, filling in that piece of her Danny took when he died, but not quite fitting.

Maybe this was a mistake.

"I'm sorry, Dani," she tells the empty lab.

—

It feels good to fly again. Sitting in the house with nothing to do, Dani was starting to get stir crazy. Finally getting some fresh air in her lungs and some wind in her hair does wonders to alleviate her mood. Not even Maddie's slip up in the lab can bring Dani down now, no matter how much thinking about it makes her skin prickle.

She soars far over the city, letting her instincts take over as the people below get smaller and smaller.

Amity Park airspace is perfect for flying. It sees so little traffic from planes, drones, or anything else like that. People in the area know to steer clear of the skies in case a ghost is about. Danny once told her that the airport actually diverts planes around the city if they're flying too low.

Not even birds like to be up here.

Dani relishes the feeling of wind buffeting her body. She lets her control slip, plummeting through the air. Spreading her arms, she guides her fall without the use of her powers, grinning wide against the roaring wind. She and Danny might not have liked all the same things, but they could certainly agree on this: there is nothing more amazing than flying.

A good hour passes with Dani in the air. She dips down toward the city a few times, swooping through the streets. The tall downtown buildings and fast-moving cars make a great obstacle course, especially when she flies at top speed.

"Is that Phantom?" someone shouts.

Dani has to stop and backtrack, flying by the voice so fast she almost doesn't hear it. Lounging in the air, she peers down at the sidewalk. "Someone called?"

A kid holding his mother's hand scowls. "You're not Phantom."

Dani sticks her tongue out at the brat. "Dani-with-an-I Phantom, thank you very much."

"I don't care. You're not Danny Phantom."

Dani's smile freezes in place. The brat, who can't be more than eight, makes a rude gesture over his shoulder as his mom pulls him away.

"Charming kid!" Dani shouts after them. The woman pulls her son along faster. Dani's expression goes flat. The brief exchange leaves a sour taste in her mouth and an ache in her chest. Flying right now doesn't seem fun anymore. She lowers herself to the street, ignoring the whispers around her, and transforms.

A few people gasp, but she ignores that, too. Who cares if they see her? The whole city already knows the truth about Danny. It wouldn't take a genius to reach the same conclusions about her.

Her hands go to the front of her shirt, seeking out her hoodie pocket. Belatedly, she remembers that she hasn't worn the hoodie in days. At night, she puts on the pyjamas Maddie bought for her, and in the morning she dons her new favourite shirt along with one of the several skirts Jazz gave her.

The first time Dani transformed from human to ghost wearing these clothes, she was worried they might disappear, or her hoodie and shorts would reappear. To her utter delight, no such thing happened. The skirt she wears now is a little long for her. She has it pulled up to her waist, with the star shirt tucked underneath, and rolled the waistband several times until the skirt rested around her knees. The soft fabric swishes about her legs, so much lighter than what she is used to.

Taking in her surroundings, Dani notes the big box stores around her. She recognizes the area, although she has only seen it from the air. The Amity Par Mall should be somewhere close by. Although Dani doesn't have any money for clothes, she could window shop and look at what's available. That should help lift her spirits.

—

The usual chatter blankets the mall food court. Beyond the tables, a kiosk for a local store advertises unique Danny Phantom merch. T-shirts, phone cases, and hats bearing Danny's iconic logo sit out on display. From her seat facing the kiosk, Sam can see water bottles shaped like the Fenton Thermos, plushies that vaguely resemble the local haunts, and even a few fake ecto-guns.

But the centrepiece of the display is a poster, unmistakably new. It features Danny twice over, as Phantom and Fenton, standing back-to-back with himself. The sight of it fills her with rage.

"How dare they." Sam seethes.

Seated across from her, Tucker nods. The soda cup in his hand crumples as his grip tightens. "Isn't that illegal, too? Using his likeness and all?"

"Absolutely. Especially since he's a minor."

"Was," Tucker corrects her, his voice soft.

"Right. Was." The memory of Danny's last moments flashes through her mind. Sam flinches, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut the image out. It doesn't work. The moment is all too vivid in her mind and she doesn't think it will ever fade.

Movies like to give heroes slow deaths, dramatic last words spoken with a final breath, the warmth of a loved one nearby. They make it so easy to forget that most of the time people don't get anything like that. Most of the time they drop, and they're gone.

Her hands feel sticky and warm, her throat hoarse.

The stunned silence of the street after it happened presses down on her.

"Looks like they have a website. I take care of that and you take care of the lawyers?" Tuck says.

Sam opens her eyes. She has to rub her hands together to remind her they're dry now, have been for weeks. Still, that doesn't stop her from picturing dried blood beneath her nails.

"Yeah," she says after a moment. "Sounds like a plan."

Whoever owns that kiosk is going to regret using their dead best friend for profit. Sam and Tucker will make them burn.

Sam's glare turns from the man working the kiosk to the shoppers browsing its wares. Her anger stretches to them, too, though not as much. She can't blame a child for wanting merch of their hero. Three of the five shoppers lingering around the stand are children, the oldest in her teens. Except instead of happily perusing the merch like her younger counterparts, this girl glares at the stand with nearly as much hatred as Sam.

Something about her is familiar, too. Sam can't see her profile in full, since the girl is angled away, but she can't shake the feeling that she's seen this girl before.

"Holy shit, is that Danielle?" Tucker asks.

Sam's eyes widen. He's right. Without the signature red and blue, Sam didn't recognize her. Dani's new outfit suits her, though. "Jazz said she saw Dani before the funeral. Where has she been?"

Sam stands up. Tucker rises with her, having the same idea. They dump their food trays at the garbage station and make a beeline for Dani.

"Danielle!" Tucker waves to the halfa, who turns at his shout.

Dani smiles when she sees them. "Hey!"

"Nice shirt." Tucker flicks Dani's collar. "About time someone put it to good use."

"Are you staying at Fenton Works?" Sam asks. Like Tucker, she recognizes the shirt and knows there's only one place Dani could have gotten it.

Dani kicks the floor with her heel, the sole of her shoes squeaking against the tiles. "Yeah. Jazz invited me to move in. It's... okay."

Over Dani's head, Sam and Tucker share a concerned look. They recognize that tone. It's one of the few things Dani and Danny have in common, at least that Sam has seen. Dani's voice dips at the end of her sentence, going low and flat. Jazz does it, too, sometimes. It's probably a Fenton thing more than it is a Danny and Dani thing.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks.

"Trouble adjusting, that's all. It's not a big deal." Dani shrugs.

Sam wants to question her further but lets the subject drop. It's fine if Dani wants to keep it to herself, although Sam prefers if she didn't. Either way, they aren't going to leave her like this.

"Doing some shopping?" Sam already knows the answer, though. Dani doesn't have a purse, or a wallet, or any money with her by the looks of it.

Dani confirms her suspicions. "Just looking."

"Cool. Can we look with you?" Tucker rests an arm on Dani's head, using her as a post for leaning. It works like a charm, drawing a half-hearted grumble and a small smile out of Dani. "We're here to people watch. And take care of assholes like this." Tucker nods toward the Phantom kiosk.

This time, Dani giggles. "Yeah, sure. We can take you to all the girl stores."

Tucker pales. "Wait, no. I change my mind."

"Too late!" Dani latches onto the arm resting on her head.

Sam quickly grabs Tucker's other arm until he's squished between the two girls, growing rapidly more distressed as they steer toward the closest store with a bright pink sign. These kinds of stores aren't Sam's thing, and she normally wouldn't be caught dead in one, but she can put up with it for a while if it keeps the smile on Dani's face.

—

Dani takes her bag from the store clerk with nothing short of reverence lighting her face. Even though she just watched the clerk pack it, Dani can't help but open the bag and peer inside at her new purchases: a skirt, a pair of shorts, and a handful of button-ups like the one she already wears.

Beside her, Sam slips her wallet back into her pocket.

"Have a nice day!" the clerk says.

"Thanks. You, too!" Tucker's hand settles on Dani's back, nudging her out of the store.

As soon as they exit, Dani spins and jumps at Sam. "Thank you so much!" When they went into the store, she didn't expect to find anything she liked, but everything inside was so different from what she found in Danny's closet. Especially the pastel colours.

"Consider it a welcome home present," Sam says. Her arm curls around Dani's back, squeezing her tightly.

"Group hug!" Tucker says before draping himself over both of them.

Dani's breath catches in her throat. When was the last time she touched someone like this? Sam and Tucker's arms surrounded her, their warmth making her skin tingle. For a second, she can't breathe, so overwhelmed by the contact that everything else ceases to exist.

Against her will, her shoulders start to shake. She clings to Sam and Tucker tighter, fists gripping the back of their shirts as she draws them closer. Tears welled in her eyes, rising from somewhere deep within her that she had been pushing down. Now, though, in the warmth of Sam and Tucker's embrace, Dani cries for the first time since Danny died.

Previous | Next

#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #notyourdanny #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #trans danny #trans danny fenton #nyd chapter five

18 notes · View notes

edettethegreat · 3 years

Text

How to stage King Lear so that Edmund’s 100% more sympathetic and Gloucester’s 100% more of a jerk

( the prequel )

( the sequel )

(This is 100% about Edmund. If you wanna read stuff about other characters then this isn’t the post for you)

(Seriously this isn’t about anyone other than Edmund)

(This is your final warning- enjoy!)

(Or don’t I don’t care I’m really tired and I have midterms to study for)

General Staging

-every time Edmund and Gloucester are on stage together, they gravitate away from each other. Kinda like what happens when you try to push two magnets together. If one takes a step towards the other, the other moves away.

-Gloucester rarely ever looks at Edmund. He often walks in front of him when both are walking together. In scenes where a three way conversation is taking place between himself, Edmund, and someone else, he looks at the other person the whole time.

-Edmund faces away from people when he’s lying to them. Often by standing in front of them (but like, across the stage from them so the audience can see them both) (like this—->)

(I deleted the picture accidentally this is not ok now I have to draw it again)

Casting/ Costumes

-(I’m only gonna be talking about the characters that I actually care about how they’re cast)

-Edmund: someone of average height, yet shorter than Gloucester, Edgar, and Cornwall. Around the same height as Albany and Goneril. Taller than Regan. Is attractive (obviously. That’s one of the first things we’re told about him), but leaning more towards cute than hot (as per my analysis in a previous post). Wears shades of grey- all of his costumes make it clear that he’s upper class, but they’re not overly flashy.

-Gloucester: If I get even one Santa Claus vibe, I’m gonna punch a wall. He should have zero resemblance to Santa. I just saw a production of Lear where he may as well have been a mall Santa. I wanted to scream. Anyway. Onto what he should look like. I honestly don’t care, as long as i can’t mistake him for Santa. It’s the vibe that counts. ANYWAY. His costume is obnoxiously ostentatious, but it gets gradually more normal as the overall stress level increases.

-Edgar: taller than Edmund, and physically more muscular, but in like “Disney channel movie football player side character who’s no one’s primary love interest and is kinda dumb” sort of way. (Future Edette Editing: What I meant was “he’s a himbo”) He’s not ultra hot, but he’s not exactly ugly either. He’s pretty average looking. He wears shades of brown, because I feel like that suits him.

-Cornwall: tall but doesn’t give off Tall Person Vibes. Preferably with dark brown or black hair, but other colors can work as well. I cannot imagine him wearing anything other than suits that are mostly black with some shades of red somewhere- I don’t care how you incorporate the shades of red into his costume, as long as they’re there.

-Albany: has a dark shade of blond hair, or a medium shade of brown hair. Any other hair color just doesn’t work. (Future Edette Editing: any color hair other than black is fine for Albany). Dresses sensibly and wears really boring costumes.

-Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia have at least a little bit of a family resemblance. Please. Their costumes are similar as well- all wear standard types of clothes you’d expect the princesses of England to wear.

ACT 1 SCENE 1

- Gloucester and Kent enter the stage with Edmund trailing behind them. They’re entering the palace from outside. Idk how England’s weather works, but I decided that the whole play takes place in the fall. I’m not wrong. It does. It doesn’t feel like the sort of play to take place in any other season. You can all fight me on this in the comments, I have no evidence to back up this claim. Anyway, they’re all wear jackets. Because it’s fall.

-As Kent and Gloucester say their first lines, they take their jackets off. It’s hot inside the palace. Edmund leaves his jacket on. It’s not a heavy jacket. He’ll be fine.

-As Gloucester finishes up his first line “...can make choice of either’s moiety” he hands his jacket to Edmund. He does this in a very natural way- it’s clear this is something he does instinctively, without thinking about it. Edmund takes it. He takes it instinctively as well, without thinking about it.

-Kent, watching this says the line “Is not this your son, my lord?”. As in “hey dude. Isn’t he your kid? Why are you treating him like a servant or a coatrack?”

-at “His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge”, Gloucester puts a hand on Edmund’s shoulder in a “yes this is my son” sort of way. He does that a bit too roughly- not in any attempt to hurt Edmund, but definitely showing that he’s doing it for show and not in genuine fatherly affection.

-While Gloucester talks about Edmund, a waiter goes around with champagne glasses. Maybe they have actual liquid (ie water) in them, maybe not. I don’t care. Anyway, both Gloucester and Edmund take one.

-As Gloucester continues talking, he slowly sips whatever alcoholic beverage is in the champagne glass. (Probably champagne, but hey, I’m no expert on alcohol). NO, this isn’t to imply that he’s only speaking Like That (TM) because he’s drunk. He is not drunk.

-meanwhile Edmund downs the whole glass, in the standard theatre way of “I don’t wanna be here and I don’t wanna deal with this”

-Gloucester hands his empty glass to Edmund. He seems to suddenly remember that Edmund is, in fact, there. He says him line “Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?”

-At “my services to your lordship” he would bow or something (I don’t know English nobility etiquette, sorry), but he’s currently holding two glasses and a jacket, so he partially bows to the best of his ability.

ACT 1 SCENE 2

- A main set piece for this play would be a door or two on wheels that can be moved around. People really like entering and exiting buildings.

-ANYWAY. Edmund comes in through said door, currently located at the back of the stage. Gloucester house have a portrait of Gloucester family in huge on the wall. Gloucester’s in the middle, with Edgar on one said and Edmund on the other. At this point this should go without saying, but the gap between Gloucester and Edmund is much larger than the gap between Gloucester and Edgar. There’s also a desk and chair somewhere on stage.

-As he starts his first soliloquy, he takes off his jacket that he was wearing in scene 1 and drapes it over the back of the chair

-at “legitimate Edgar, I must have your land”, he turns towards the portrait and looks at Edgar. Then there’s a pause in the soliloquy as he goes over to the desk and writes The Letter (TM). Then he continues the soliloquy with “Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund..”

-Gloucester enters. He doesn’t notice Edmund.

-As Gloucester asks Edmund for the letter, he and Edmund slowly circle around the stage, the way you’d see animals circling when they’re preparing to fight each other. They’re not going to fight. Not directly at least.

-Gloucester doesn’t make direct eye contact with Edmund for most of this scene

-Until he does, at the line “Give me the letter, sir.”. The line itself is said very forcefully. Both Gloucester and Edmund have stopped circling each other. They stand at opposite ends of the stage. There is a pause, and then Edmund takes the letter back out of his pocket and gives it as he continues saying his lines.

-Gloucester spends the remainder of the scene looking at the letter instead of at Edmund.

-“Edmund, seek him out..” is said very offhandedly, like he’s giving an order to a servant, rather than talking to his own son

-Gloucester leaves, Edmund sinks into the chair at the desk. He puts his head down on the desk and leaves it there for a solid second. He starts his soliloquy with his head still down. (Future Edette Editing: I still want something here to show that Edmund doesn’t get any enjoyment from this- he’s doing it out of anger, or as revenge, or to gain what should have been his, had things been slightly different, or possibly as a means of survival. Basically, he’s not doing this to have a fun time at deceiving anyone) He’s not enjoying what he’s doing- he’s not rejoicing at what is seemingly his success- he sees that it doesn’t make a difference. Gloucester would rather have no sons than only have him.

-Edgar enters. Edgar enters in a great mood. His optimism is turned up to a solid 100%.

-“How now, brother Edmund!” He speed-walks over to Edmund, who’s standing near the middle of the stage at this point. He does something brotherly- I don’t know what that would even mean, given that I am a girl with no brothers. He puts his arm around his shoulder or ruffles his hair or something. That’s the vibe I’m going for. The “haha yeah we’re siblings and we totally get along” vibe. Edmund is, however, not vibing.

(-if the second option is what we’re going with, Edmund takes a moment to fix his hair. A very short moment, but a moment none the less)

-Edgar notices that Edmund does not seem to be vibing, and that’s when he continues with his line “what serious contemplation are you in?”

- at “..go armed”, Edmund hands Edgar his own sword. This is the sword Edgar will later use to kill him.

ACT 2 SCENE 1

- On Edmund’s conversation with Curan: This is the first conversation Edmund’s having with someone without there being any uncomfortable tension between them. They talk in a casual way, and it’s clear that outside of the play they would be friends, regardless of status. Why would they be friends? Because I decided they should be.

-Edgar is doubly armed- with Edmund’s sword and with his own. He was planning on returning Edmund’s sword. When they “fight” Edgar uses Edmund’s sword and Edmund uses Edgar’s. They have different types of swords- Edmund’s- which is now Edgar’s- is slightly shorter and lighter. Edgar’s- which is now Edmund’s- is a two handed sword. These details are slightly irrelevant, but I feel like their weapon of choice (even though they’re using each other’s weapons (ie not their weapons of choice)) should match their personalities.

- Edgar just. Has NO idea what’s up with Edmund’s “hey we gotta sword fight now” thing. It should be clear to the audience that he’s ONLY going along with it because he trusts Edmund entirely.

-during the fight, Edmund slashes the family portrait with his sword, cutting a line between Edgar and Gloucester. Is this cliche? Yes. Must it happen anyway, because ✨symbolism✨? Yes.

-Edgar leaves through The Door I keep talking about

- Edmund stabs his non-dominant arm. This is relevant and important.

- “But where is he?” Gloucester hasn’t even noticed at this point that Edmund was injured in the “fight”. “Look, sir, I bleed!” Is Edmund’s attempt to get Gloucester’s attention. It’s his way of saying “I got injured for YOUR sake. THAT’S how good of a son I am!!”

- “where is the villain, Edmund?” The word “villain”, not the word “Edmund” is emphasized. While his seemingly innocent a son is standing there with his arm stabbed and bleeding, he’s more concerned with the son who supposedly plotted against him, but is currently running away now and is of no threat to him.

- (this is the point where I get really into @suits-of-woe’s Cornwall theory, because while I had never thought of it before, as soon as I read it I agreed with it completely. Please go read the theory if you haven’t already.)

- While Gloucester rarely looks at Edmund, Cornwall’s eyes go straight to Edmund as soon as he enters the room. Edmund doesn’t notice- he’s too busy trying to support his stabbed arm in a functional way without bleeding everywhere

-while Gloucester and Regan are talking, Cornwall calls a servant aside and whispers to him. The servant leaves. He asked the servant to get Edmund bandages because his arm has LITERALLY been STABBED and no one’s doing anything about it.

- Edmund’s focused on his arm until Cornwall’s line of “Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father a very child-like office”. Finally, someone appreciates him! At “It was my duty, sir”, it’s clear that there’s some sort of understanding between them. They somewhat get that they’re on the same side. There is a short pause.

- “...and received this hurt you see” Gloucester, being Gloucester, grabs Edmund’s injured arm to “show it off” to Regan and Cornwall. Edmund, master of hiding his emotions and such, winces for a millisecond but then goes back to “ah yes everything is ok and I am totally not condensed rage in human form”.

(Future Edette Editing: I am *so glad* I’m editing this because I really don’t like some of the stuff I shoved in here to try to cater this to a larger audience)

-after “..how in my strength you please”, that servant Cornwall called returns. As he says “For you, Edmund, whose virtue and obedience..” until the end of that paragraph Cornwall takes the bandage and bandages Edmund’s arm- I mean no one else is gonna do it. That, combined with the content of what Cornwall says in the paragraph, lead Edmund to be like “wait. Is this?? A father figure???” “a father figure? For ME???”

(-Hence the Cornwall theory I mentioned earlier)

- “I shall serve you, sir, truly, however else” this is the first line he’ll say in a way that it’s clear to everyone (mainly the audience) that he’s 100% sincere. He’s not trying to be deceptive. He’s not trying to trick anyone. He says it softly and truly means it.

-Edmund’s arm remains bandaged for the remainder of the play. (It’s not heavily bandaged or anything)

ACT 2 SCENE 2

- At “How now! What’s the matter?..” Edmund comes out holding Edgar’s- which is now his, I guess- sword. He’s holding it well enough, considering it’s a two handed sword and he just stabbed himself in the arm, but it’s pretty clear that he won’t be able to win a fight with it. Don’t worry, he’ll get a new sword before his final duel.

-at “no more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers” “his” is referring to Gloucester, not Edmund. This isn’t because Cornwall is ignoring Edmund, it’s because that’s just the order they’re standing in. Edmund entered this scene first out of the four of them, so while Kent and Oswald are on one side of the stage, Edmund stands towards the middle, and Cornwall, Gloucester, and Regan stand at the other side.

ACT 3 SCENE 3

-Gloucester is angry in this scene. Why is he angry? Because I say so. He says all his lines in an angry and bitter way. Which may be counterproductive- having Gloucester be angry about how Lear is treated may make him more likable, which isn’t my goal. But I don’t care.

-Edmund says his paragraph at the end in a bitter and angry way too. Because ✨ parallels ✨

ACT 3 SCENE 5

-Cornwall is Gloucester’s opposite when it comes to how they react to/ treat Edmund. While Gloucester rarely looks at him and has an anti-magnetic effect, Cornwall stands near Edmund on the stage and looks at him both when he’s speaking to him and when Edmund’s replying. And not in a “good eye contact is important” sort of way, because Edmund faces away from people when he lies to them. Just for staging reasons, not because he can’t lie when facing people.

-Cornwall knows Edmund’s lying- he shows this by constantly moving so that he’s nearly always standing beside him instead of behind him (not actually directly behind him; scroll up for General Staging, where I explained this.)

-At “go with me to the duchess” Cornwall puts a hand on Edmund’s shoulder, directly paralleling Gloucester in Act 1 Scene 1. Because I really like ✨parallels✨. Except Cornwall, the same guy who said “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love”, does this in a much more- fatherly, I guess?- way than Gloucester did.

-At “if the matter of this paper be certain...” Edmund does what he does when he lies; ie tries to turn away and takes maybe half a step back. He pretty much trusts Cornwall enough to not walk halfway across the stage when he lies, but not enough for him to either lie directly to his face (or just tell the truth, I guess- but that’s because the whole point of this is to stick to the original script and use only stage directions to make Edmund more sympathetic).

-At “True or false, it has made thee earl of Gloucester...” Cornwall puts his other hand on Edmund’s other shoulder (wow I’m bad at describing things)

Here are some stock photos to help ya visualize this-

THIS is putting one hand on a shoulder. Note that the two people aren’t necessarily facing each other.

AND THIS is putting both hands on shoulders-

(So imagine that, but minus how aggressive that looks, and minus one of the people’s arms. Also a whole lot less tense/intense.) (Anyway. Moving on.)

-at “thou shalt find a dearer father in my love” (...cue me googling “how on earth do fathers show affection?” Because I really want to get the point across that edmund’s like “a father figure??? For me???” And Cornwall’s like “👍. A father figure. For you.”) HECK I GOT IT. Hear me out. Cornwall pats Edmund on the head (in like, a fatherly way), and with the other hand hold The Letter (TM) (even though this is a different “the letter”) and looks it over. This is the first time he looked away from Edmund since this conversation started. In a way that portrays “yes you are my son now I have claimed you as my own” but also “you are not necessarily my top priority- I can give you the fatherly love and affection you desire, but it’s not exactly unconditional. You did well today, good job! You keep up the good work and I’ll keep up my end of this; ie providing you with the fatherly love you never received in your childhood” ( @suits-of-woe I am trying here. I am struggling. I’m so sorry for ruining the Cornwall Theory like this- I’m trying my best to convey it via my amazing stage directions, but I can see pretty clearly that I’m epically failing at this).

ACT 3 SCENE 7

-Cornwall walks onto the stage first, followed by Goneril and Regan close behind them, and Edmund last.

-at “Farewell, sweet lord, and sister”, Cornwall nods at Goneril in response (this has nothing to do with Edmund, I always just thought it was weird that he doesn’t respond)

- at “Edmund,.. farewell” Goneril had already left the stage, Regan is standing next to Cornwall at the opposite end of the stage. Edmund’s about to exit when Cornwall says “Edmund”. He turns around- expecting Cornwall to say something more to him or something. There’s a pause. Cornwall doesn’t have anything else to say. He just says “Farewell”. Edmund nods and leaves the stage.

ACT 4 SCENE 2

-oh heck I gotta stage an Edmund and Goneril scene now

-I don’t wanna?

(Future Edette Editing: and so I won’t!! I don’t normally describe things as cringe, but that’s what this was. I only put this in because I felt obligated to talk about every scene. Oh well- I guess 4.2 isn’t getting stage directions from me)

ACT 5 SCENE 1

-Edmund enters first, dressed in some sort of military commander uniform. Because. Like. There’s a war going on. His sleeves are rolled up/cuffed up to elbow length, and his arm is still bandaged from when he stabbed it.

-there is a tent with a desk in it on stage. Hold on let me illustrate this:

(Future Edette Editing: yeah there was an illustration here, but I’m changing some stuff so I deleted it)

It’s all on wheels so it can be moved around the stage- whichever piece is the most important to the scene will be more up front.

-Edmund stands at the desk which has some military plans of some sort on it.

-Edmund is armed with a brand new sword (Cornwall’s sword? Maybe? Who knows?) (UPDATE: yeah hi future Edette here- I decided that it is, in fact, Cornwall’s sword)

-With Regan, Edmund also doesn’t get that she’s flirting with him right away.

-and then. Then he’s like “OH WAIT” “WAIT SHE’S FLIRTING” “WAIT SO I GOT 2 GIRLFRIENDS??” “OH WOW THIS IS FANTASTIC” “THIS IS LITERALLY THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE” (lol Edmund it’s also the last week of your life)

-he 100% realized at “No, by mine honor, madam”.

-Albany stands at the opposite end of the desk. He never moves any closer or further from Edmund than the opposite end of the desk. Goneril would have moved closer but Albany is blocking her.

-as Edmund leaves he puts on his military commander hat of some sort and adjusts it while looking in a mirror or some other reflective surface. Just to show he’s still the same Edmund from act one- he still cares about his appearance to an extent.

-at “the enemy’s in view, draw up your powers.” Edmund half-jogs in back onto the stage- showing that he wasn’t just commanding the soldiers ( if he was he’d have been walking at a moderate pace), but he was actually with them, to some extent, fighting along side them on the battlefield.

- (Future Edette Editing here: yeah so I deleted the notes on the soliloquy here. I didn’t like them. Oh well.)

ACT 5 SCENE 3

-wow it’s hard to make this Edmund guy redeemable/sympathetic when he kills off Cordelia. Like. He really didn’t need to do that

-why, Edmund. Why must you do this.

-you’re making my job here (ie to make you sympathetic) very difficult.

-ANYWAY. I’ll do what I can for this scene

-The captain here? Yeah, he’s Curan from earlier. Edmund made him a captain. There you have it, Edmund’s one semi-redeeming factor for this scene

-I really don’t know how to have this part play out in a way that makes the audience sympathize with Edmund. This is the best I can do.

(Future Edette Editing: yeah so honestly killing off Cordelia and Lear was a logical and strategic move to make, tbh. ((Not morally fantastic. But logical.)) Because yeah Albany would have left them alive and then what? They’d get the throne? Let’s be real here- the country’s already collapsing- the last thing you need is Lear or Cordelia on the throne. Even *Albany* would do a better job than either of them. And he wouldn’t do anything at all. So. Yeah.)

-I’m so burnt out right now I know this isn’t the quality content you came here for but I don’t know how to get this back on track either. ANYWAY I am dedicated to finishing this. Let’s go! There isn’t much left to the play! I’m almost done!

-at “Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of war..” Albany speaks in a very harsh tone- talking to Edmund as if he were a child who interrupted class for like the eighth time that day. Albany’s just salty that his wife likes Edmund more than him.

(Future Edette Editing: Sorry if this doesn’t flow well here anymore- I deleted a bunch of stuff)

-as the argument continues, Regan and Goneril get more frantic because they see they’re not winning.

-Albany gets louder and angrier because he’s frustrated that his wife likes Edmund more than she likes him. Also because at this point, he pretty much hates Edmund.

-Edmund, however, is the quietest out of all the yelling people around him. He doesn’t like arguments- or rather, he doesn’t like when he’s the one the argument is directed towards. He tries to stay calm and talk in a level voice. As everyone around him argues he tries to step in between them and silently play the role of peacekeeper.

-at “Nor in thine, my lord” Edmund is still calm./ not yelling at him. He says it like he’s stating a fact, not contributing to the argument.

-at “half blooded fellow, yes!” My book’s translation to modern english say “Bastard, it is!”. And like. No one’s called him a bastard for like 4 whole acts now. All I have to say to this is Big Oof. (Is that a dead meme? Yeah. Probably.) Edmund is surprised at first- then glares at him- in a way saying “oh? You want to go there? We can go there. I’ll gladly fight you with my own two hands.”

-at “I will mainly my truth and honor” he draws his sword, which I have now decided definitely is Cornwall’s sword. Why does he have it? Idk, Regan probably gave it to him.

-As Edgar and Albany talk before the fight, Edmund swings his sword at nothing in particular- the way you’d see people warming up for a fight. This sword is not a two handed sword, so he’ll be fine even with his stabbed arm. As I mentioned earlier, he stabbed his non-dominant arm, so his sword arm is fine.

-at “In wisdom I should ask thy name..” he does something to indicate that he might know it’s Edgar. What does he do? I don’t know. Something with a whole lot of ✨symbolism✨. I’ll figure it out before posting this. Or maybe I won’t. (Future Edette Editing: Yeah so I figured out what to do here slightly after, and I have a whole post about it- but to sum it up, he looks at the *mysterious masked man*’s sword (which as you may recall was his). And he’s like “oh. Oh. Ok then.”)

-they fight. Edgar (as I previously mentioned) is using the sword Edmund gave him at the beginning. Edmund is using Cornwall’s sword.

-As they fight it’s clear that they’re pretty evenly matched. (I mean. Then again, Edmund was just helping in battle like two seconds ago while Edgar was just chilling with his half dead/dead father. So. Edmund’s trying to win a duel after just doing a bunch of exhausting physical activity while Edgar is not.) (Edmund would win if they were fighting when they were both at their strongest)

-(I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but I’m gonna restate it so that you don’t mess up on how you imagine the fight going down. There’s only one valid interpretation of it, and it’s my own interpretation. That has literally never been used in any production. Yup. That’s the only valid way to imagine the duel.) ANYWAY. As they fight, Edmund seems to be about to win, when Edgar hits his already stabbed arm. Edmund loses focus in that one moment, because. Like. That’s painful. (I was gonna say he drops his sword, but does he? Does that work? I don’t know. If he does or doesn’t, it’s valid either way). Then Edgar stabs him. With is kinda even more painful, and somewhat fatal.

-After he’s stabbed, some random soldier brings him to the tent toward the back of the stage, where he stays until he’s brought off stage

Here’s an illustration to help you picture this:

-Edmund is more focused on his wound than the conversation. His tone and body language for the rest of the play conveys “You won! I lost! I’m sorry! Can I get medical attention now??”

-Headcanon that Edmund would have lived if he would have gotten some medical attention sooner

-at “yet Edmund was beloved” he does a little sarcastic laugh (not like a laugh laugh, more like a cynical nose exhale?)- he sees the irony of how all three of them trying to take their rightful power, and all dying at the same time as a result of it.

-while Edmund tells them they still have time to save Cordelia, he sinks down/lies down. He already accepted the fact that he’s going to die.

-while he’s delivering this news, Edgar and Albany look at him in shock and then at each other. From there to the rest of the scene, no one looks at Edmund again. Not because they don’t like him, just because they find him irrelevant now (which Albany outright states a few lines from here).

-When Albany tells the soldiers to take Edmund off the satge/away from there, he doesn’t look at Edmund, he just vaguely motions to him.

-At “Edmund is dead, my lord” “That’s but a trifle here”, Albany barely turns to look at the messenger. He doesn’t care that Edmund is dead. No one does. The wheel has come full circle. No one cared about Edmund at the start, and he’s just as irrelevant now. Edmund wanted to be something to people. He would have wanted them to react to his death. If they had celebrated it, he would have been happier than if they ignored it. He doesn’t even get that much.

-The Curtains Close. The Play Is Over-

#king lear #shakespeare #Do you know how many HOURS went into this??#...because I don’t #I genuinely have no idea how many hours went into this #I was studying for midterms at the same time as writing this #so the hours spent on this and this alone were probably around 5?#5 hours sounds legit

68 notes · View notes

adhd-disaster-willie · 3 years

Text

seventeen and strung out on confusion; chapter 2/4

So, I don’t really like this chapter as much as the other one but it’s fine. :/ I don’t have the patience to redo it, so this is what you get :)

Warnings: Homophobia, child abuse, non-graphic description of wounds, panic attacks

chapter 1

---

Alex didn’t quite know how long he’d been curled up on the sidewalk when a figure began approaching him; but he was shivering and crying and really not in the mood to be murdered. The person may not have been headed directly towards him, but they sure were biking fast in his direction and once again, being kicked out and killed on the same night didn’t sound like much fun. So, swearing underneath his breath, Alex stood up and began jogging away, still unsure of where he was headed.

The bike came barrelling towards Alex but came to a screeching halt immediately after passing him.

“Alex?!” The person, who had a guitar strapped to their back, hopped off the bike and stumbled towards Alex.

“Luke?” Alex whispered, baffled. “What are you-” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Luke wrapped him in a hug, burying his face in Alex’s shoulder. Alex decided not to mention Luke’s damp, red cheeks.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Luke asked, pulling away.

Alex snorted at that. “I could ask you the same thing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and began rocking on his heels, counting down the seconds until Luke read him like he always does and Alex had to stop him from marching back up the block and yelling at the Mercers until his voice was hoarse.

“Your parents,” Luke muttered, his voice hardening, bitter. “They kicked you out didn’t they?” Luke didn’t get angry very often. Sure, he got upset and disappointed and frustrated, but he wasn’t one to get genuinely furious. He was now though. Alex grabbed his wrist and shook his head.

“Yes, but Luke, please don’t.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, but backed off. “I’m gonna kill them,” He hissed beneath his breath.

“Not if you die from the cold. What are you even doing out here?”

Luke grew quiet, his gaze shifting to the ground. “Nothing, nothing I was just… I was headed to Bobby’s. The studio.”

Alex nodded, internally berating himself for not having thought of that. But he didn’t want to bother anyone. Staying in the studio for the night was entirely different from asking to live there. But he didn’t have much of a choice.

Luke, somehow sensing Alex’s thoughts, sighed. “I’m gonna go grab your bike,”he said, giving Alex a quick hug before turning to walk up the sidewalk.

“Luke, you don’t have to-”

“Nah, I do. I’m not gonna make you go back there, and we sure as hell aren’t walking all the way to Bobby’s.”

“Fine. But you need to tell me what happened!” Alex shouted after him, but he was already far enough to pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

---

Alex’s hands were practically numb after 10 minutes of biking, and his backpack felt like it had doubled in size. Not to mention the only light was people’s Christmas decorations and the occasional street light, and he’d only ever gone to Bobby’s in the day so he was relying about 80% on muscle memory. All in all, not a great situation.

“Dude, why the fuck is Bobby’s house so far away?” Alex complained, adjusting his grip on his bike handles in hopes that it’d bring back some sort of feeling in his fingers.

Luke shrugged. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet the whole ride and was yet to explain why he’d run off in the middle of the night, but Alex knew he’d open up in time… hopefully. If it had to be pried out of him, it would; but Luke was never one to keep secrets. At least Alex leaving in the middle of the night wouldn’t take much explanation, except to Bobby’s parents. No one had dared say it out loud, but for the whole year it’d felt like the seconds Alex had before being kicked out were just slowly running out. And this was the last straw.

“Can we- can we stop for a minute?” Alex breathed, his legs burning. “I have like, no stamina.”

Luke chuckled weakly, coming to a slow stop. They leaned their bikes on the side of the curb before sitting down, feeling relieved that they recognized the area; it was just a few blocks from Reggie and roughly another 5 minutes to Bobby’s place.

Alex let out a shaky breath. “It doesn’t even feel real,” he whispered, dropping his head and burying his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “God, they kicked me out.” It was finally settling in and Alex felt sick. “Dad wasn’t even there. It was- it was just Mom and she… She didn’t even seem sorry. She looked at me like I was nothing.” He choked down a sob. “Like I was never her son. I didn’t think she’d ever hate me, but look at where we are now.” Alex didn’t bother fighting the tears this time. His shoulders shook and he brought his knees up to his chest, breathing in slowly in hopes to prevent a panic attack.

Luke moved in closer, wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulder and squeezing. “Hey, it’ll be alright. We’ve got each other. And Bobby, and Reggie-”

“Luke, Alex?”

Both boys snapped to attention; they would’ve recognized that voice anywhere.

“Reg?” Luke stood up and took two long strides to meet Reggie, clasping his thin, hunched shoulders. “Shit. Reggie, dude.”

Alex wiped his eyes furiously as he walked over to where Reggie and Luke stood and he once again recognized the pure anger dripping from Luke’s words. Then Reggie moved closer to the streetlight and Alex’s heart plummeted to his feet.

Reggie’s face was blotchy and pink and his eyes were swollen from crying. His hair was slightly damp and Alex felt sick upon seeing the shards of glass in it. There was dried blood on his cheek and Alex was afraid for him to take his jacket off, but Luke tore it off anyway, inspecting the bruises running up and down Reggie’s forearms and wrapped around his wrists.

Reggie squeaked in protest and snatched the jacket back, his hands shaking.

“They are dead,” Luke muttered coldly. He gestured to both Alex and Reggie. “I am going to actually kill both of your guys’ parents.”

Reggie looked over to Alex. “What did Alex’s parents…” He trailed off, face darkening in realization.

“Where were you gonna go?” Alex asked quietly, his grip on his fannypack strap tightening.

Reggie shrugged and went to sit down on the curb. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I can’t just leave forever. Sammy… I can’t leave him alone with them.” He shook his head. “I’d hate myself if I just left him there.”

“Olivia moved out last year and left you guys alone!” Luke countered, sitting beside Reggie. “Reg, dude, you can’t stay there!”

Reggie’s expression hardened in a way Alex had never seen. Reggie Peters was basically a human puppy and it seemed Alex had gotten all to used to that fact. “Yea but she knew we had each other, Luke. You don’t get it. Sammy’s just 13, I can’t just leave him. I can’t.” Reggie’s tone grew more hopeless at the last sentence, his lip quivering.

“Fine,” Luke grumbled. “But at least come with us tonight. We’re going to Bobby’s.”

“But what if-”

“No buts. You’re hurt and you smell like beer, we’re not gonna leave you out here.”

“But Sammy-”

“Sammy’ll be ok,” Alex cut in. He squeezed Reggie shoulder and gave a half-hearted smile. “He’s a tough kid.”

Reggie nodded. A quiet sob ripped through him and he buried his head in his knees, leaving damp spots on his jeans from his hair which would probably smell like alcohol for a week.

Alex lay an arm around Reggie’s shoulder and Luke chuckled. “Yea, group hug,” he whispered feebly, joining the embrace.

The temperature was rapidly dropping and Alex could feel Luke shivering and Reggie’s teeth chattering, his own feet growing numb in his shoes. But for just a split second, none of that mattered. He didn’t have to look to know that they were all crying and that Reggies hair was sticking to his cheek and Luke’s guitar case was digging into someone’s shoulder. They were a family. A stupid, dysfunctional, scarily codependent family, but still. It was something.

---

March, 1995

Despite protest, Bobby’s parents had started giving Alex and Luke monthly allowances; claiming that if they were gonna live there, they were family, not guests. Reggie refused to accept the money; he was still returning to his house at least two nights a week for fear that his parents would take their anger out on Sammy. But the money meant that Alex was finally able to get a new hoodie; one that wasn’t too tight around the shoulders and didn’t ride up every time he lifted his arms. It was nice, too. Sure it’d taken a couple months of allowance to buy, but it was soft and comfortable and his favorite shade of pink.

“Alex,” Luke whined, drawing out the vowel like a small child begging for candy. “You can’t leave us like this!”

“Luke-”

“It’s betrayal! You- I thought you were our friend!”

“Stop being dramatic,” Alex replied, smacking Luke’s shoulder lightly.

“Ow.”

“It’s one band practice. If I don’t retake this test, I’ll fail Algebra.”

“Algebra is a stupid subject anyway,” Luke pouted, kicking a rock angrily.

“Bobby’s mom got ice cream,” Alex said. “Now go.” He waved Luke off, smiling impatiently.

Luke trudged away from Alex’s locker and towards the exit, his head hung low. “You’re the worst,” He shouted before walking out of sight.

Alex sighed and chuckled lightly as he turned back to rifle through his locker in search of a pencil; he’d lost his favorite one in English earlier that day (more like Bobby stole it, but same difference). He didn’t like pens because the concept of not being able to fix mistakes was more daunting than it probably should be, and he refused to use any non-mechanical pencils (“Shut it Luke, I’m allowed to be picky about my pencils!”) because he hated having to sharpen them constantly and he had a bad habit of pressing down too hard and breaking the lead. So he couldn't find a damn pencil and Mr. Thomas had said he had to be in classroom by 4:30 if he wanted to retake the test but he couldn’t find a stupid pencil. Alex swallowed and breathed in shakily, glancing up at the clock which seemed to be moving too fast because there’s no way it was already 4:25. Logically, he could just ask Mr. Thomas if he could borrow a pencil, but he didn’t want to be a bother, and he knew there was a pencil somewhere in here.

Alex cried out in frustration, slipping his backpack from his shoulders and unzipping the small front pocket which he’d reserved specifically for writing utensils. Nothing. Ok. Fine, he’d just borrow one. It isn’t that hard to ask to use a pencil. Right.

Halfway across the hallway, Alex heard snickering drifting from around the corner. He froze and gripped his backpack straps tighter. It was useless, willing himself to keep walking. Not when that laughing was sickeningly familiar. God, Alex hated football players.

“Awe look he got a new jaaacket.” Someone -Alex refused to try and decipher who- cooed mockingly.

Alex didn’t turn around.

“Y’know when you stopped wearing the other one, we were really hoping your parents had finally beat some sense into you.”

Alex looked at the clock. 4:28. He willed himself to move forward, ignoring the twisting in his stomach. He played out the beat to Now or Never on his backpack straps.

“Hey! We’re talking to you!”

Why was the hallway so long? Alex had begun to think it had doubled in size since he’d started walking. His hoodie felt too hot all of the sudden and he could practically feel someone breathing down the back of his neck. They were talking to him, but it was muffled, like he was underwater. He tried breathing in slowly. 4:29. His steps quickened.

“F*g!”

He couldn’t breathe. Alex couldn’t breathe and he felt like someone had stabbed him in the stomach and was twisting the knife over and over and over again. 4:30. Oh god. They were yelling at him and drawing closer and closer and now he’d missed his chance and was gonna fail algebra and they’d call his parents and then the school would know he’d been kicked out and-

Someone had hit him. He wished he could pinpoint where, but his entire body was numb and throbbing and everything was blurry. He wondered briefly if the shouting was in his head or out of it. And this might be where he could say he’d blacked out, but that wasn’t quite what had happened. He stumbled blindly across the rest of the hall, mostly on autopilot, unable to see through tears and why was he crying??? He never really fainted, but no matter how hard he tried, Alex couldn’t remember what’d happened next.

---

“Alex!”

That was Luke, Alex was sure of it.

“ ‘Lex, come on.”

Reggie shook Alex’s shoulder and his vision began to clear. Oh.

“What, why am I in the studio?” He asked frantically. “How did I- my test!” He stood up and not bothering to figure out why he was dizzy, Alex rushed to the doorway.

“Nope.” Bobby clasped his shoulder tightly and steered him back to the couch. “Sit down, idiot, you almost passed out.”

“Dude, who punched you?” Luke asked, scooting in closer to Alex and gazing furiously at the bruise on his face.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t- I’m not- it’s…”

“Mr. Thomas said you came into his classroom and tried to ask for the test but he wouldn’t let you since you’d just been beat up and then Bobby heard you in the room cause, cause he came up to the school to give you a ride so you didn’t have to walk-”

“Reggie slow down, you’re gonna give him another panic attack!” Luke scolded, swatting Reggie’s chest and shoving him lightly.

Bobby sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Thomas is letting you retake the test next week, drink some water.”

Alex took the glass gratefully and took a hesitant sip. He set the water down and breathed in, settling into the couch, still tense. “ ‘M sorry,” he muttered.

“Sorry? Dude what?” Luke looked at Alex, completely baffled. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I made you cancel practice so I could take my test but I didn’t even take it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Reggie chided. “We’re not mad at you-”

“Yea it’s whatever asshat punched you that we’re mad at.”

“Bobby, we’re not killing anyone.”

“Yea please don’t get yourself arrested for me,” Alex laughed softly.

Bobby shook his head and flopped down on the couch beside Reggie. “Fine.”

“Hey,” Luke shook Alex gently. “You want some chocolate? Reg got some of that fancy stuff-”

“No, I draw the line at giving him my chocolates,” Reggie complained, reaching across Alex to slap a hand over Luke’s mouth. “Ew! Dude, you licked me!” Reggie whined loudly as he shook his hand, pretending to gag. “That’s just low.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“You’re both stupid.”

Alex let his head fall against the back of the couch, a small smile creeping onto his face.

---

I’m not great at angst, so I’m not quite sure why I thought I’d do well with this fic akhfkldsfh

please tell me if there’s anything else I should add a warning for, I tried to do everything but I could’ve overlooked something.

chapter 3

chapter 4

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #sunset curve #alex mercer fic #willow writes

46 notes · View notes