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rozcdust · 1 year

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The little princess

Pairing: Haitani brothers x younger sister reader

Genre: Fluff, crack

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: Canon divergent, ooc, profanity, kid on a leash, kid close to gang business, jokes about hating men, Kisaki

“Haitani brothers, the rulers of Roppongi. They could get a hundred men to come with just a call.” Chifuyu solemnly explained to Takemichi, nodding in the direction of two men sitting to the side, carefully observing.

“A hundred men?” Takemichi turned to look, halfway expecting hardened criminals with murder in their eyes and prison tattoos, and could already feel himself shake with fear.

What he found instead, was intimidating two men, yes, but one of them, the one with glasses, was tightly holding onto a small child, bouncing his leg, clearly not even noticing the tiny girl trying to braid his hair while putting sparkly clips in it.

Takemichi blinked.

“IS THAT A TODDLER?”

“Shut up about the toddler before they hear you. They’ll kill you.”

Takemichi could only stare as the child climbed into the lap of the other man, who allowed her to adjust as she pleased, with no issues quickly unbraiding one of his braids, combing through the locks with his fingers and letting the girl do as she pleased.

These were the feared Haitani brothers?

Takemichi found that hard to believe as he watched the two men coo at the child, Rindou’s fingers lightly tickling her stomach as the squirmed, giggling.

And why was the kid on a fucking leash?

“Ran! Ran, look! Rinnie too! There’s a pretty lady there!”

Ran glanced between his sister and the general direction as to where she was pointing her finger, trying to figure out who the hell was she talking about.

He really started considering if she should have some positive female influence in her life.

Ah, there, he found it.

The one from Toman, with a mask covering his face and long, platinum hair, clearly busy boxing some guy’s face.

“Princess, pretty sure that’s a guy.” Rindou chuckled, ruffling the girl’s hair as she visibly wilted with disappointment, “Don’t worry though, Ran is also a pretty lady.”

Ran shot a glare at his brother, who merely grinned.

“Luna! Luna!” A tiny voice called, drawing both the attention of Mitsuya and his younger sisters.

A small girl, no older than 5, was running towards them clumsily, in clearly too pretty of a dress and too impractical of shoes for such a task, almost tripping and falling multiple times, yet persisted until she reached Luna, slamming into her with a bone-crushing hug.

Luna’s face lit up as she hugged the girl back, a smile splitting her usually serious face in half.

“Y/n! Hi! How are you?”

“I’m okay!”

Before Mitsuya could as much as ask who this child was, and why was she on the busy streets of Roppongi by herself, a panicked, breathy voice interrupted him, calling for the girl.

“Y/n?! Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“She’s here!” Mitsuya called out, presuming the male voice was the girl’s father, but as a familiar, rather unpleasant face pushed through the crowd, Mitsuya’s heart sank to his heels.

The older Haitani seemingly didn’t even notice him, instead scooping up the tiny girl into his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

“Good god, sweetie, you can’t do that, we talked about this! Rin and I got scared to death! What if something happened to you?!”

“Sorry,” The small girl murmured, burying her face into Ran’s collar, “I just wanted to say hi to my friend.”

“Haitani y/n, you have to tell us where you want to go so we can go with you!” Rindou appeared out of nowhere, out of breath as much as his older brother, his glasses crooked and slightly steamed. He glared at the child with a stern expression, “Next time I’m putting you on a leash.”

“Sorry, Rinnie.” The girl mumbled against her older brother’s neck, whose panic finally seemed to dissipate and turn to relief as he stroked her hair, gently rocking the child in his arms.

“Don’t worry, sir! Y/n would be safe with us and my brother! You’d get her back in one piece!” Luna enthusiastically responded, nodding wildly as if that affirmed her statement.

Ran finally looked away from the girl Mitsuya assumed was y/n, glancing at Luna, then at Mitsuya.

A grin split his face practically into two.

“Mitsuya, lovely seeing you here.”

“Haitani.” Mitsuya nodded, acknowledging him, if rather unwillingly.

He still hasn’t forgiven him for slamming a brick into his fucking head.

“Hi, Mr. Haitani! I’m Luna, y/n’s friend from school!” His younger sister grinned, taking a step towards the two brothers before Mitsuya could as much as try to pull her back, extending her tiny arm to offer the Haitanis her hand to shake.

Ran, then Rindou, both took it, shaking it rather softly considering the bullshit Mitsuya has seen them be capable of doing.

“Hi Luna, what a pretty name!” Rindou leaned down to be at a more of an eye level with the girl, smiling lazily.

She spoke too fast for Mitsuya to try and rather firmly excuse himself and his sisters.

He would literally rather lick the asphalt clean than spend a minute more with the Haitani brothers.

“Thank you! You could go with us if you want? I haven’t seen y/n in so long-“

Long time, his ass.

Luna hasn’t seen her friend since literally earlier that afternoon.

The girl perked up, still in Ran’s arms, and looked between both her brothers with excitement.

“Yes, yes! Can we, please? Please, please, please?”

“Well, princess, since you asked so nicely.” Rindou nodded, extending his arm to offer the girl a quick pat on the head. He unclipped one of the numerous colourful butterfly clips littering the girl’s hair, fixing it to hold all the strands back into place.

Of course the fucking Haitanis, rulers of Roppongi and flashiest bastards alive, had to also dress that tiny child like she won’t be running around and ruining the dress.

Idiots.

Mitsuya truly, genuinely did not want to go anywhere with the two bastards, but he was pretty sure Luna would throw a tantrum if they didn’t.

Come to think of it, Luna and Mana rarely cared for men, only liking their older brother and tolerating Hakkai on best days, as opposed to being obsessed with any girl they met, but they seemed to like the Haitani brothers well enough, probably due to their long hair and the fact Ran looked like a living, breathing doll with his long braids and stupidly soft facial features.

Heavy-hearted, Mitsuya took Mana’s and Luna’s hands and continued, now in tow with the Rindou and Ran fucking Haitani, to the carnival.

That was the start of their long-lasting, if begrudging, comradery.

Izana curiously stared down at the small girl, who confidently stared at him back, her small head tilted up to look at him properly.

When Kakucho said the Haitani brothers had two demands, Izana did not expect… This, whatever the hell this is, to be a part of them.

He was pissy about them having different uniforms, the cocky bastards, sure, but he stomached that well enough, no issues there.

This, however-

This.

He knew they had a younger sister, but he expected her to be younger by maybe a couple of years, probably around Kakucho’s or Kisaki’s age.

Not by a whole decade and some change.

Apparently, they did not trust anyone else to be left with her, so they just casually brought her around gang members and let her run wild and do whatever she pleased, as long as she was within their eyesight.

Come to think of it, she was tiny for her age, hold old was she even? 4, 5? A baby, basically, and Izana had to wonder, what the fuck do they feed her?

Clearly not enough milk.

Maybe Izana was just short.

The girl took her tiny rucksack off her back, rummaging around it as she stuck her tongue out in concentration.

Finally, she seemed to find what she was looking for.

“You look sad, Mr. Kuro- Ku- Kuroka- Mr. ‘Zana! Do you want a juice box? Or a snack?” Holding out an apple juice towards him in one hand, a small bento box in the other, she tilted her head cutely, “It always cheers me up, and Rinnie says it’s important to share.”

Izana could now understand why the Haitanis adored the kid.

In his defence, he wasn’t soft, not at all, no ma’am, nuh-uh, not the feared Izana Kurokawa, he has never been soft in his life.

It was just hard to see a tiny child, dressed like a doll, her hair in pigtails with pom-poms, offering him her afternoon snack, and not immediately wish to scoop her up and coddle her to death.

If the other Tenjiku members wanted to comment on Izana letting the girl sit on his shoulders, they didn’t, but he noticed the smug look Kakucho gave Ran.

Bastards.

Now, Mucho and Mochi were never particularly liked by kids, they usually either started crying or hid behind their parents when the two men passed, and honestly? They were fine with that.

You, however.

You apparently decided they were just two huge teddy bears, and perfectly appropriate for jumping on, often tugging on the leg of their pants to ask them to pick you and throw you in the air.

And they always indulged you, because you were too damn cute with your wide eyes and tiny face.

No, Mochizaki Kanji and Muto Yasuhiro were not soft for the youngest Haitani sibling, don’t be ridiculous.

Glancing up from his game of shogi with Mucho, Sanzu found you fixated on him, situated on Ran’s lap as you stared intently in awe.

They were in the Tenjiku hideout, doing nothing at all really, mostly just hanging around and playing games, one of the rare slow days when everyone was exhausted and just wanted to relax.

And of course, the Haitians brought you along, seemingly forsaking the usual dresses they put on you in favour of a frankly adorable outfit of floral-patterned overalls, hair braided and clips added to match, and a turtleneck, fretting about you possibly getting sick.

It was undeniable, to say the least, that you were Tenjiku’s favourite little creature, each and every member, including Izana, practically tripping over each other in a rush to cater to whatever need and whim you may have, constantly offering you snacks and toys, bundling you up in blankets whenever you as much as shivered, and rarely a second passed when you weren’t either in somebody’s hands or on someone’s lap.

Sanzu fretted imaging the kind of spoiled brat you’d grow up into, but shockingly, the Haitanis, seemed to be doing a good job of raising you to be a perfectly polite little girl, always saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and insisting on calling everyone ‘Mister’ even if they did tell you to just call them by their name.

The Tenjiku members did make a competition of who would be your favourite, and even if Ran and Rindou continuously held the first place, the others fought tooth and nail for the second, going as far as to try and bribe you.

They all offered you to buy anything you wished if you just said they were your favourite, but you always diplomatically shook your head, shyly noting you liked them all the same.

Even if everyone knew Sanzu was the second favourite.

He wasn’t even sure why, he never interacted with you much, as he found kids to be sticky and loud messes he preferred to keep as far away from himself as possible, and yet, you persisted.

You insisted on calling him miss at first, not grasping the concept of a man being as pretty as he was, and bloody no one corrected you, as they found it adorable, even if Sanzu was not amused.

After a couple of mishaps, however, you learned, but still stuck to him as glue.

You toddled out of Ran’s lap, who merely glanced at you to make sure you weren’t gonna wander off too far, before focusing again on his conversation with Izana, and towards him.

“Mr. Sanzu? Mr. Mucho? Can I watch you play?” Tilting your head so your nose was touching the table, Mucho and Sanzu both nodded, Mucho already reaching out to pick you up under your armpits and seat you on his leg, but you shook your head, gently pushing his arms away.

“Sorry, Mr. Mucho, would you be upset if I sat with Mr. Sanzu today? Brother said I can if Mr. Sanzu agrees.”

Mucho smiled, barely, amused as he glanced up at Sanzu, quirking his eyebrow in question.

Containing the urge to roll his eyes, knowing his captain will tease him about this for the foreseeable future, Sanzu nodded, picking you up and letting you curl up into his lap.

Shrugging off his jacket, he tucked it around your shoulders, proceeding with the game as Mucho and he both started to explain the rules to you.

“Mr. Kisaki? What happened to-,” Unsure of how to explain your feelings, you simply gestured to your face, “That?”

“Huh?” Dumbly, Kisaki stared down at you, unsure of how to respond.

He couldn’t stand you, almost wanting to punt you across the room every time you toddled up to him, but he knew that would be a sure-proof way to get massacred, so he at least tried to be polite.

Ran’s burning and obvious hatred of both him and Hanma seemed to be infectious.

“Your face, I mean. Was it some kind of accident?”

Kisaki felt his eye twitch as Hanma started wheezing next to him.

“That is quite rude, y/n.”

“Nuh-uh! Brothers say it’s okay to ask men why they’re ugly, but not women, because there are no ugly women! Only men! They also say men are trash!”

Kisaki looked up and glared at the two men, hard, who merely smirked in amusement, focused on their game of cards.

“How the hell are you raising her?!”

Ran didn’t even spare him a glance as he spoke.

“We’re currently hoping for a raging misandrist.”

“Yeah,” Rindou nodded, fixing his glasses, “Though, just a regular amount of hatred towards men would be okay too, don’t wanna put too much pressure on her, ya know?”

Kisaki considered shooting them both on sight.

. . . next

🔖Taglist:

@dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @graythecoffeebean @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman @anahryal @reiners-milkbiddies @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @luvjiro

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #haitani brothers #haitani brothers x reader #rindou haitani x you #ran haitani x you #rindou haitani x y/n #tenjiku #izana kurokawa #kakucho hitto #haruchiyo sanzu #mucho tokyo revengers #kanji mochizuki #kisaki tetta

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usernameforaboredcat · 7 months

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Head Over Heels (Law X TomBoyF!Reader)

(A little dabble I thought while taking a piss 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 like 3 minutes ago)

Warnings⚠: None

[Part 1/?]

Law meets Luffys older (by like a year) sister who honestly the type of girl he’d imagine being the big sister to the Straw Hat and BOY is she just fiiiiiiiine!

3 brothers!

Imagine growing up with 3 idiot brothers with only one of them being less stupid. Fist fights, rolling around in mud and dirt, covered in blood from hunting, needing a bath every night to not get sick. Haha God I love those idiots!

Law doesn’t know why he’s here, walking down a random street on a random island with the idiot Straw Hat Luffy. As the two walk, Luffy lets out a loud yell as he sees a familiar older girl walking down the street. “HEEEEEEY! (YYYYY/NNN)!”. He calls way too loudly, drawing the attention of everyone including the girl. She turns in confusion, the gasps as she looks over with wide eyes and a bright smile.

Luffy jolts off over to the girl, the Captain of the Heart Pirates groaning as he slowly walks to catch up. He sees her wearing baggy long pants and a bikini, saddles and a small pack bag through the belt parts of her pants. Luffy jumps and hugs her, who hugs him back. “No way! It’s so good to see you again little dude!”. She greets him. “I’ve missed you so much!”. Luffy cries. (Y/n) pulls off the younger kid, putting him in a headlock as she ruffles his hair with his knuckles.

“You little fuck! I thought your ass was dead you little shit! Scared me half to death! I swore I saw the light!”. She snaps at him angrily, tightening her hold as he starts to choke. “I-I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!”. Luffy breathes out, spazzing in her hold.

The Heart Pirate Captain finally catches up, looking at the two with a raised eyebrow. “The hell are you?”. (Y/n) asks the taller man, looking up at him. A thump goes through his whole body, strange. “Th-this is my friend!”. Luffy chokes out, now trying to pull her arm away. “No shit! Can’t believing you made a friend that isn’t some 30 year old guy!”. She says happily.

Law looks at his now turning blue friend, his cheeks reddening at the sign of his face so squished against her boob. “Hope this little turd hasn’t been too much of a pain in the ass”. She tells him, finally letting go of Luffy to let him fall to the ground. ‘Yes, he has been a giant pain in my fucking ass’. “No, not at all”. He responds. ‘Damn it!’.

She then hums, getting on her tippy toes and leans right up into his face. “Holy crap! You’re that Law guy! I heard about you! Your bounty is like crazy high at like 3,000,000,000 berries!”. She points out in shock. “Yeah! Isn’t he awesome!”. Luffy cheers, now back on his feet. “It is quite impressive, I must say”. She hums, holding her chin with her hand as she nods.

“Uh…th-thanks”. He mutters, gripping the brim of his hat to lower it to hide his slowly growing blush. ‘What’s with this woman? Why am I like this? Damn it!’. “So, whatchu up to these days?”. Luffy asks his older sister, the two turning to each other. “Oh ya know, just traveling around looking for anything to do! Probably doing the least to piss off the old man out of us kids”. She answers, leaning with her hand on her hip.

“How bout you? I’ve seen that your bounty has only been goin up so ya still trying to be King of the Pirates?”. She asks. “Yep! And it’s only gonna go up and I’m gonna be king!”. He responds happily. She chuckles at her little brother. “I believe it! Remember I’ve been your number one supporter since day one”. She reminds him, nudging his arms with her elbow.

She then turns back to the other captain, feeling an arrow go through his heart when her eyes meet his. “Mind if I hang with you guys for a while? Just for a bit, I wanna catch up with my baby brother”. She asks him oh so kindly. Law felt as if his heart stopped, chocking and spitting out his own spit. Luffy laughs at his reaction while his sister just stares.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a handkerchief, holding it out to him. “Do you…need this?”. She asks nervously, never really seeing a guy act like this before in her life. “Uh…”. He takes the handkerchief from her, feeling the soft fabric on his fingers. “Thanks”. He thanks, raising it to clean his face. “Oh man! You should have seen your face!”. Luffy laughs at his older friend.

He holds the handkerchief back to her, her hand grazing his as she takes it back. Her finger tips are as soft as silk, her fingers smoothly sliding off his. Laws nose suddenly bursts, blood gushing out his nose like a hose. “Holy crap!”. The girl yelps, jumping back while Luffy bursts out laughing again. “Hahaha! Now you’re like Sanji!”. He laughs, holding his stomach from all his laughing.

(Y/n) looks at her brother with a concerned expression. “Is he uh…usually like this?”. She asks him. “Hehehe, nope!”. He simply answers. All Law can do it turn away from the two, his face a dark beet red. Never in his life has he been this embarrassed just because of some girl. (Y/n) leans over so she can whisper in Luffys ear. “Should I leave and we catch up a different time?”. She whisper asks him, causing the younger boy to turn and look at her.

“No no it’s fiiiine! Just give him a minute”. He reassures her. She hums as she leans away from her baby brother, then just to lean back over. “He said he acts like a friend of yours, what’s he like?”. She asks him. “Oh you mean Sanji? He usually acts like that around girls, he really likes girls”. Luffy answer. Oh…OH!!! Oh~. “Oh I see~”. She coos, leaning away from her little brother again.

“Huh? Get what?”. Luffy questions. (Y/n) then grabs Laws hand, gaining his attention and causing him to freeze in place. “So Law, are you here for long? Perhaps we can meet up and you can tell me some stories of dumb shit my baby brother has done?”. She asks him, sending him a little wink. His nose starts to bleed again, but he’s able to muster out a nod. “Cool! Now why don’t we go somewhere nice and chat!?”. She says happily, linking arms with her brother and dragging the two down the street.

Trafalgar Law, Died Age 26

Death By Blood Loss & Heart Attack Caused By Luffys Hot Older Sister

#one piece law x you #one piece x reader #one piece law #one piece law x yn #one piece trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law x reader #one piece trafalgar law x yn #one piece trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x yn #trafalgar law x you

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pandenewie · 5 months

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RULE THREE: No Kissing (on the lips)

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“Dude, since when could you draw like that?”

The sudden question from Jake leaves Niki stunned for a second. What is he talking about? He hasn’t drawn anything serious since freshman year.

“Is it a self-portrait?” Sunoo asks, making Niki’s eyes widen. Did they find it? He spins around to see Jake and Sunoo looking intensely at an opened copy of The Promised Neverland. Niki had been rereading it recently and knew it was the perfect place to keep the drawing Y/n had given him… apparently, he was wrong.

“Stop snooping through my stuff.” Niki scowls, ripping the book from their grasp (careful not to crinkle the drawing.) “Woah, no need to get so pissy. It’s cool to see your art; you never draw anymore.” Jake says sincerely. “It’s not mine… Y/n drew it.” Niki mumbles, the mention of their name causing Jake and Sunoo to look at each other with a smirk. “Aww cute! He’s using it as a bookmark!” Sunoo gushes.

“You should invite them to come bowling with us this weekend!” Jake exclaims. “Why the hell would I do that? They’d be so uncomfortable.” Niki grumbles defensively. “No, they wouldn’t! Sunghoon’s bringing Gaeul, come on, it’ll be fun!”

“He’s bringing his dog bowling?” Niki asks, disgusted.

“Not his dog, his girlfriend.”

“I still think that’s really weird by the way.” Sunoo chimes in. “That’s like Niki dating someone named Bisco. Or like you dating someone named Layla.”

“Okay, let’s not judge Hoon for his dating preferences. He’s bringing Gaeul so you should bring Y/n. It’s a great way to integrate them into the group!” Jake attempts to convince him. The thought of Y/n getting involved with his friend group terrifies Niki. The two of them could barely keep it together during lunch - how are they supposed to keep this act up for an entire evening? And if the relationship gets exposed as fake, Niki will never live it down.

On the other hand, he doesn’t want to seem like a possessive asshole who’s gatekeeping his relationship. The guys are already on the fence about whether it’s real or not, keeping Y/n hidden away could only add fuel to the flame.

“Okay… I’ll invite them. But I can’t promise they’ll show. And if you guys pull that same crap you did at lunch we’re leaving immediately.”

“Y/N!”

The sudden sound of their name being yelled through the halls cuts off Y/n’s conversation. Y/n turns to see Niki jogging up to their group. “Oh, hi Riki.” Y/n smiles, the mention of his real name causing the girls to look at each other with wide eyes. “Are you free this Saturday?” The question was unexpected and caused Y/n’s eyebrows to furrow with confusion. Noticing this, Niki elaborates: “My friends and I are going bowling and they told me to invite you… it’s all good if you’ve got plans since it’s kind of last minute but… I don't know, it’d be fun if you could come.” He rambles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Eunchae snorts slightly at the boy's out-of-character shyness, earning a glare from Y/n. “I’d love to go.” They smile, relief washing over Niki’s body as the words fall past their lips.

“You have the audacity to ask Y/n to go bowling and not invite us as well?” Eunchae asks, gesturing between herself and Danielle. “Well, did you want to come?” Niki asks. “No.” The girl shrugs simply.

“Why would you get upset about me not asking if you were just going to reject me anyway?”

“It’s your punishment for not asking in the first place!”

"Okay, I think we should go before this escalates any further." Danielle interrupts, pulling Eunchae away from Niki. "Are you coming Y/n? Or are you two eating lunch together again?" She continues, her eyes darting to Niki. Y/n looks at Niki for confirmation, causing him to shake his head with a smile. "Go ahead, I've probably been stealing you too much recently… I'll see you this weekend, anyway." He says, ruffling Y/n's hair before turning around to find his friends.

As Y/n turns back to their friends, their eyes immediately roll at the expressions on their faces. "Don't you even start." Y/n warns, their words falling on deaf ears as the two girls begin to awe at the affection they just witnessed.

"That was so cute! He definitely has a crush on you." Danielle teases. "He definitely does not. We have a deal and real feelings are not a part of this." Y/n argues, earning a scoff from Eunchae. "If either of you think that you're gonna stick to whatever rules you planned, you're both much dumber than I thought," She says. "Now come on, I want to get to the vending machine before all the good stuff is gone."

Y/n doesn't go out a lot. Not in a weird way, they just happen to spend a lot of their time at home. And in the circumstances where they do leave the house, it is usually with the comfort of Danielle and Eunchae - not their fake boyfriend and his entire friend group.

"If you start to feel uncomfortable, just tell me and we'll leave, okay?" Niki asks. He had gone through the effort of picking Y/n up from their house (something Sunghoon has insisted all good boyfriends should do) and the two had caught the bus together to the bowling place.

"You don't have to worry about me, just have fun with your friends." Y/n reassures. Their words cause Niki to look at them with a deadpan expression. "Okay fine, I promise I'll tell you if I get uncomfortable." They add, earning an assertive nod from Niki.

As soon as Niki's friends are spotted, he grabs Y/n's hand tightly, leading them towards the group.

"So the lovebirds finally showed up, huh?" Heeseung teases, immediately earning a slap on the head from Jay. "Sorry about him, we're glad you could make it, Y/n." Jay says. “It’s okay… thanks for inviting me.” Y/n smiles politely before turning to the only member of the group they don’t recognise.

"I'm Gaeul, Sunghoon's girlfriend." The girl says, waving slightly. Y/n waves back before turning to Niki, their eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly. "Wait, didn't you say his dog was called-"

"Anyway, should we start bowling?" Niki asks, interrupting Y/n’s question. “Come on, let’s go pick our shoes!” He continues, dragging Y/n by the hand.

Since half the group has never gone bowling before, they decide it’s best to split into teams - with Niki, Y/n, Jungwon and Sunoo on one team and Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon and Gaeul on another team. Juniors vs Seniors.

“I feel like these teams are a little uneven…” Jungwon points out, looking at the difference in skills between each team. “It’s fine, Sunghoon will bring them down.” Niki laughs, earning an offended scoff from Sunghoon. “Yah! Have you seen me bowl? Tell him, babe.” Sunghoon points, turning to Gaeul for reassurance. “Well… you can definitely hit some of the pins.” Gaeul replies sympathetically. “I’ll show you.” Sunghoon challenges, only making his friends laugh further at his competitiveness.

Y/n quickly finds that they suck at bowling. Niki, on the other hand, is practically a prodigy. He even joked at one point about putting the gutters up and using the kiddy ramp to “give them a fair shot”. His teasing only made Y/n even more determined to get a strike but at this rate, that won’t be happening any time soon.

“Come on, try it with this one.” Niki reassures, walking towards Y/n, a cherry red bowling ball perched carefully between his palms. “Isn’t that one heavier?” Y/n questions, attempting to take the ball from Niki’s grip. As soon as they get a taste of the weight, however, they immediately give it back to the ball. “Yeah, no. I’ll break my wrists trying to use that.” They laugh, patting Niki’s arm before walking to grab their regular ball.

“You can do it, Y/n!” Sunoo cheers. “Y/n, fighting!” Jungwon adds, making Y/n laugh as they get ready to bowl. Y/n gets into position, aiming as best they can before carefully rolling the ball down the lane - mustering as much power their body can handle.

Everyone watches eagerly as the bowling ball rolls slowly down the lane, starting to lean towards the left gutter as it goes along. “Come on, come on.” Niki please quietly, praying he has somehow gained telekinesis that can lure Y/n's ball back to the centre. Although that doesn't happen, the ball does somehow manage to keep out of the gutter, knocking down the far two pins before rolling off.

“I got something!” Y/n exclaims, jumping with excitement. Their team matches their enthusiasm, jumping out of their seats to cheer for their member. Niki runs towards Y/n without thinking, picking them up in a bone-crushing hug and spinning them around as if they've just scored the winning point.

“Yah! Let them hit the rest of them, you idiot!” Jay scolds playfully, a look of fondness present in his eyes. “Okay, if you get a strike I'm gonna throw you in the air.” Sunghoon says bitterly, making Gaeul laugh. “It’s not a competition, babe.” She says, patting his chest reassuringly. “It is now. I'm not gonna let some 17-year-old out-boyfriend me.” He scowls, only making her laugh more.

“Okay, okay, you can put me down now.” Y/n laughs, patting Niki’s shoulder as he lowers them back onto the ground. “You can do this.” Niki cheers quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of Y/n’s head before walking back to his seat.

Y/n can’t do this. It's as if all their luck and bowling skills left their body the second those two pins hit the polished pine floorboards. They miss. By quite a long shot, as well. “Nice try, Y/n!” Jungwon exclaims. “If it makes you feel any better, Sunoo was making you guys lose anyway.” Jake says, attempting to reassure Y/n. “Uh, rude.” Sunoo scowls. “Come on Y/n, don’t let him turn us against each other.” He continues, shielding Y/n from Jake.

Eventually, the bowling comes to an end, with the seniors absolutely thrashing the younger team. No one expected a different outcome - the other team was far more experienced. Jungwon however, claimed that their team had better chemistry and therefore, they were the real winners.

“Niki, you need a ride?” Jay asks, twirling his car keys around his fingers. Niki turns to look at Y/n, unsure of what to do. “Go ahead, my bus is almost here, anyway.” Y/n smiles. Unsure, Niki turns back to Jay. “Nah, I’ve gotta make sure Y/n gets back.” His words cause the boys to break into a chorus of oohs, causing Niki to roll his eyes. “Uh… yeah, I don’t need a ride either. Gotta make sure Gaeul gets back safe.” Sunghoon coughs, causing the group to erupt into fits of laughter.

As the group splits up, Niki and Y/n begin walking to the bus stop. “You could’ve just gotten a ride, you know? I can get myself home.” Y/n mumbles. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I did that?” Niki scoffs, nudging his shoulder against theirs Y/n goes to remind him that he isn’t actually their boyfriend but for some reason, the words don’t come out.

The peaceful silence of the bus ride is suddenly cut short by a grumbling sound coming from Y/n’s stomach. The two pause to look at each other for a moment, both silently wondering whose stomach it was before their thinking is cut off by yet another growl.

“Sorry… I haven’t eaten much today.” Y/n mumbles, sheepishly, their words almost immediately being waved off by Niki. “It’s okay, we were a bit busy with bowling… did you want to get something to eat?” He asks. Y/n seems apprehensive at his words, looking up to check how far away their stop is. “There’s this really cool sushi place down the street from my house… my treat.” Niki adds, wiggling his eyebrows as he attempts to convince them.

Y/n would be a fool to pass up sushi. Free sushi, at that.

As soon as the sushi roll hit Y/n’s tongue, it was as if the taste had exploded in their mouth. Niki was right to recommend this place, the sushi is amazing. Y/n had largely underestimated how hungry they were.

“Slow down before you choke!” Niki laughs, reaching forward to hold Y/n’s chopsticks away from their face - waiting for them to finish their current mouthful before letting go. Y/n rolls their eyes, shoving another sushi roll between their lips.

“Did you have fun today?” Niki asks, digging into his meal. Although he had tried his best to keep his attention on Y/n throughout the day, being around the boys occasionally distracted him. Hopefully, Y/n didn’t feel ignored. Niki’s overthinking gets cut off by a wide grin from Y/n. “I did! The only people I really hang out with are Danielle and Eunchae… and I guess you, now. So it was fun to get to know new people and do something I haven’t done before… even if I ended up being really bad at bowling.” Y/n says, laughing slightly as they think back at their failed attempt at bowling. “That’s good, I was scared the guys were gonna say or do something and make things weird.” Niki sighs.

“I never really asked… why are your friends so obsessed with you being in a relationship, anyway?” Y/n asks, causing Niki’s eyebrows to furrow. “I don’t really know, I guess it’s because I’m the only one in the group who’s never been in one… unless you count the whole thing with Eunchae.” Y/n nods at Niki’s words. “Any particular reason?”

Niki doesn’t remember the last time someone asked about his love life in a way that wasn’t to tease him. “At first I just wasn’t that interested. I didn’t want to just date for the sake of dating and I was never put in the position where a relationship would naturally happen so I just… didn’t.” He shrugs, the words spilling from his lips a lot easier than he thought they would. Y/n smiles at this, almost like they completely understand what he means. “You say at first, what changed?” They ask sweetly.

The extra question causes a subtle blush to spread across Niki’s cheeks. He considers dodging the question and changing the topic but the way Y/n’s eyes sparkle with curiosity somehow tricks his brain into answering.

“Ah… it’s kinda dumb. Jake was in a relationship with a girl called Lily… you probably remember seeing them around school together.” Niki starts, earning a nod from Y/n. “Well, they were basically like… the it-couple in our friend group. Everyone else would date around, get together, break up but they were consistent. For a while, it felt like they were going to be together forever. And then one day, they were done. Nothing bad had happened, no one did or said anything, they just broke up. And that kind of freaked me out because… they were so in love, you know? And suddenly… they weren’t. I don’t want something like that happening to me.”

Y/n smiles understandingly at Niki as they take in his words. “That’s not dumb, love can be scary.” They agree. “Giving someone your heart and trusting them to not break it… I don’t know how people do it so carelessly.” Y/n admits. “Yeah… I think I’ll just be forever alone.” Niki mumbles, making Y/n snort. “We can be alone together.” They smile, causing Niki’s heart to flutter.

“How many times have I told you that you don’t have to walk me home?”

“Probably the same amount of times that I’ve told you I don’t care. You never know who or what is out here.”

“The chances of me getting attacked are very slim, Riki.”

“And with me, they’re nonexistent.”

Y/n rolls their eyes as their mini-argument subsides, letting Niki win this round. He smirks proudly, nudging Y/n’s shoulder slightly as a silent “I win” before shoving his hands in his pockets.

The pair, once again, find themselves standing outside Y/n’s house. Niki’s feet begin to drag slightly as they walk up the neatly stoned path, towards the front door. He doesn’t want them to go inside; doesn’t want the day to end just yet.

Y/n pauses, almost as if they can read his mind, and turns around to face Niki. “Today was really fun.” They smile. “You already told me that.” Niki teases, earning an eye roll in response. “Just telling you again… thanks for inviting me.”

Smiling, Niki ruffles Y/n’s hair. “You’re welcome. It was way more fun with you there.” Such a simple complement and yet Y/n still feels their face heat up at the words. “I should probably head inside…” Y/n mumbles, turning their head to look towards the door.

With Y/n turned away, Niki leans down to press a kiss against Y/n’s cheek. He’s always been pretty good at timing things but he can’t tell if this is impeccable timing or the worst case of bad luck. Y/n’s face turns just as his lips go to make contact, the feeling of their lips and not their cheek causing Niki’s eyes to widen in shock.

…

They just kissed…

Niki had his first kiss…

And it was with Y/n.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Y/n gasps, pulling away completely from Niki. They stare at each other for a moment, eyes wide as saucepans, before Niki coughs awkwardly. He turns away to look down the street as Y/n stares down at their feet.

“Oh, would you look at that, my bus is coming.” Niki lies. “Gotta run so I don’t miss it, I’ll see you at school.” He blurts out, turning and practically running back towards the street. Y/n moves just as quickly, rushing inside their house and slamming the door shut behind them.

…

What the hell just happened?

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breannasfluff · 8 months

Text

Lost Hero

“How can you lose an entire person?”

“He can’t just be gone!”

“I bet he’s wandering around exploring.”

“It’s Sky, not Hyrule or Wild! There’s no way he got up early to go exploring.”

“Who was on watch last night?”

A long pause and all eyes swivel to look at Wild. ‘The hideout is empty,’ he signs. ‘Promise. Riju cleared it out; we’re safe here.’

Legend snorts, folding his arms. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop Sky from vanishing off his bedroll!”

This, of course, is the root of the problem. They woke this morning to find Sky missing. There’s no sign of struggle and no one woke to a fight. The blankets are merely pushed back and empty. Most telling of all, the Master Sword still rests by his bedside, sheathed.

“When’s the last time someone saw him?”

Wild raises his hand. ‘He was asleep on his mat, well, halfway off his mat last night when I went to bed. Seemed fine.’

Wind paces until Warriors captures him under an arm to pull against his side. “What if something happened to him?”

Time rubs a hand over his face and gestures to the empty room. “Let's not jump to conclusions. He might have gotten up to go to the bathroom or explored and got lost. Wild, you know this area best, let's break into teams and search the area.”

“Did anyone look outside yet,” Hyrule offers.

They haven’t, which leads to a mad rush for the door to pull it open. They pile outside, calling for Sky’s name, only to be greeted by silence.

“It’s not windy,” Four points out. “We’d be able to see his footprints if he left this way.”

The sand is smooth except for the footprints they scuffed when descending from the cliff. No tracks extend down the canyon to point to the missing hero and there’s no breeze to fill in prints.

“Back inside, everyone. Maybe he’s stuck.”

The Chain filters back inside with grumbles and worried murmurs. Wild trails them, trying vainly to unseat the guilt taking up residence under his ribcage. Is this his fault? He told Time they didn’t need to set a watch.

The yiga hideout should be empty, though. Riju and her warriors ripped it apart and Wild helped. Some might call it slaughter; she called it necessary. It’s hard to draw up sympathy for people who attacked him continuously on the road or posed as needing help, hoping to catch him off guard.

The hideout was empty, the yiga were dismantled, and Wild slept easier at night for it. Yet none of this explained what happened to Sky. The chosen hero isn’t the type to wander off on his own; he sticks close to the camp and others.

They break into pairs and spread in different directions, calling periodically for Sky. Voices echo and refract on the stone. It plays tricks on Wild’s ears and makes them twitch. Is that Sky calling back or an echo?

The hallways form a warren, connecting in odd ways. Wild and Four run into Wind and Warriors, only to break apart and try another turn. It’s easy to see how someone could end up lost, but they still find no hero.

The Chain meets again at the back of the hideout and Wild circles the outdoor area, eyeing the pit.

“He’s gone! What are we going to do?” Wind’s voice is high with fear.

“We’ll find him, sailor.”

“We don’t have any clues! What if something snatched him? What if one of us is next?”

Warriors tries to ruffle Wind’s hair, but he ducks away. “We’ll stick to pairs. We’ll set up watches. We’re heroes; we’ve dealt with danger before.”

“But this is Sky!”

Sky, who wields his soft, sleepy demeanor like a blade to get what he wants. Sky who sighs dreamily over his girlfriend. Sky, who gives cuddles to anyone who wants or needs them. Sky, who respects Wild’s boundaries.

Sky, who’s missing because Wild said they were safe.

“Guys! Come look at this!” Four’s on the other side of the pit, peering at one of the large rocks.

The champion joins him, frowning at the rock. ‘What about it?’ he signs.

“It looks like a hidden mechanism. Here, help me push it.”

With a shrug, Wild puts his shoulder to the rock and he and Four give it a shove. It moves—a lot easier than either were expecting. Wild slips on the sand and nearly bashes his chin on the rock. Four keeps his feet, but it’s a near thing.

“Woah! This is way too light. And look, it’s on rails!” Four gives it another tentative shove and it slides easily. Something grinds and whirrs; the sounds of well-oiled gears. “What the…”

“You find something?” Time joins them, looking at the rock and the grooves. The rest of the boys drift over as well.

“I don’t know, but this is something either way. Look, you can cover up the tracks with sand and no one would know the rock moves.”

“Keep pushing it!” Hyrule lays on the ground, peering into the pit. Legend grabs the back of his tunic, even though he’s not in danger of falling in. “I think I see it doing something.

Four wipes away sand from the rails and Wild gives it a final push. It clicks into place and Hyrule cheers.

They also join him on the edge of the pit to look down. A walkway has appeared, winding downwards.

“Champion? What’s down there?”

Wild can only shrug. ‘Never seen this before,’ he signs. ‘Even with Riju. We checked the pit but it’s just that; a pit. Deep.’

“Think Sky found it and went down?”

“And how would he push the rock back into place?”

Hyrule grimaces and turns to Time. “Is it worth checking out?”

Time looks at the walkway, then the worried faces of the boys. “Twilight, do you think Wolfie is around and would be able to track him?”

He grimaces and shakes his head. “He already tried. It’s hard to pick up any scents in the sand; everything criss-crosses.”

Warriors squints at him. “How does Wolfie manage to follow you from realm to realm?”

An enigmatic smile is his only answer. “Magic.”

“Yeah, right. Well, this is the only lead we have. I say we go for it.”

Four is still examining the sliding rock. “Should we split up? At least until we check out what’s down there?”

“Why would we do that?”

He gestures to the rock. “What if this is on a timer and it starts to slide back? Do you all want to fall off a staircase into a giant pit?”

“The smith has a good point,” Warriors adds. “Time, let's split into groups. I can stay here with a few in case Sky comes back. The rest of you go explore the pit.”

The old man nods, easily accepting the decision. “Four and Wind, you stay here with Warriors. The rest of you, with me.”

“Why is it always the short ones left behind,” Wind grumbles, but he crouches by Four to examine the rock again.

The rest of them step onto the platform and start the long, winding path down into the pit.

Read the rest here!

#linked moments #lu sky #lu time #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wind #linked universe #linkeduniverse #angst #tw blood #breannas fluff #my writing

79 notes · View notes

mysterious-ocarina · 1 year

Text

Fortissimo

Request: hi again!! i can’t get over your writing omg- could you do another remus x reader? im actually obsessed with him haha. reader is sirius’ twin but is really quiet almost mute most of the time(bc of family trauma). they draw really well and draws remus the most. one day reader is out and sirius finds their sketches and shows it to the rest of the marauders and when reader comes back they get loud for the first time bc they’re touching their book. i love the idea of sirius sibling reader it’s taking over my brain!

A/N Dedicated to the anon who's been waiting since the beginning of January for this! my longest fic yet and I'm sorry it took me so long to start writing it <3

Main Masterlist HP Masterlist Requests AO3

(2.9k words)

If someone were to ask anyone about you, the first thing they would say is how quiet you are and how much of an opposite you were to Sirius, your obnoxious twin brother. You loved Sirius and when he moved into the Potter home, you were graciously invited and followed Sirius. This is how you became close to The Marauders. Everyone knew that the Black family was dysfunctional but you and Sirius coped with the family troubles in opposing ways. While Sirius was always loud and rebellious, you were more stand-offish and reserved. Sirius always knew this, but his friends found it to be quite the surprise.

The Marauder who was the least put off by your nature was Remus Lupin. He understood the want for silence as well as how annoying your brother could get. This is likely why you may or may not have developed the tiniest crush of sorts on the werewolf. You guys often spent time alone in each other's presence. You with your sketchbook, and Remus with a book. This was your favorite time of the day because Remus often gave you inspiration to draw.

On one hand, he would tell you about whatever story or topic that he was reading about so you would draw whatever he was talking about. On the other hand, he gave you inspiration even when he wasn’t talking. Your sketch book was your prized possession. You never let anyone look at it. Sometimes you would show off your sketches of random things to your friends but that was it. You didn’t want anyone, especially Sirius with his blabbermouth, to see all of the sketches you have of Remus.

Drawing Remus during your time together started off normal. You simply wanted to get better at drawing faces and such and he just happened to be with you. Over time though, as you started to fall for him, your sketches started to become less about anatomy lessons and more about the way Remus looked peaceful curled up reading a book. Or how the scars on his face made him more attractive even if he didn’t think so. Or how his shirt clung to him in all the best ways. In your head, you defended yourself saying that it was still about anatomy, that you're learning how to draw facial expressions, facial features, and how clothing works on a body. But you knew, it had nothing to do with that. You were just desperately in love with Remus and this was the only way to express it.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus asked aloud, peering over his book at you.

Blushing, you replied with a short, “Nothing.”

You focused back on your sketchbook and realized that you were so distracted by your thoughts, that you hadn’t even been drawing. Your sketch was only the outline of a faceless body. You didn’t start drawing Remus and with your mind still distracted, you put your sketchbook down on the coffee table in front of you.

“How is my favorite twin doing?” Sirius asked, ruffling your hair from behind you. He hopped over the back of the couch you and Remus shared and took the seat in between the both of you.

“I’m your only twin,” you grunted, slapping his hand away. “Unless you count James, who’s hip you seem to be attached to all the time.”

“Well, unlike you, I have a best friend. . . Or friends in general,” Sirius offered you a smirk.

“I have a lot of friends. I even have a best friend,” you replied, stubbornly. You didn’t have a single friend outside the Marauder boys. You were decently close with Lily and Marlene, your roommates, but the person you were closest with was Remus. There was no way that you would admit in front of the boys that Remus was the closest thing you had to a best friend, who you have a fat fucking crush on.

“Oh, really? Name one friend, that isn’t one of us 4,” at his request, James and Peter sat down on the chairs around you, coming from seemingly nowhere, and joined the conversation.

“She probably can’t. She loves us too much to have other friends,” James said with the most prideful look on his face.

This argument was petty and stupid, you realized. You weren’t really in the mood to bicker with Sirius right now. You were also embarrassed by their teasing because Remus hadn’t said a single thing to add. You wondered if he knew that you were only close with him.

“It’s called quality over quantity. I know you don’t know what that means with the amount of guys and girls you. . . affiliate with,” you remarked. It was no secret from anyone that Sirius was a bit of a playboy around school.

Remus suppressed a giggle at your comment and started to laugh harder at Sirius’ fake offense to your suggestion.

“Shouldn’t you be on my side?” Sirius raised a brow at Remus.

“Maybe,” Remus shrugged, giving you a wide smile. You smiled back with a blush adorning your face.

As the conversation lulled, everyone started to do their own thing. James and Sirius played a serious match of wizard chess as Peter watched on, stuffing his mouth with some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Remus was still on the opposite side of the couch as you, with his nose tucked firmly into the book he was reading.

Later that night, you were alone with Remus in the boys’ dorm, sitting across from each other on Remus’ bed.

“You’ve never told me why no one is allowed to see your sketchbook, not even me,” Remus mentioned, adorning the cutest pout you’ve ever seen.

Avoiding his gaze, you softly replied “It’s just private, that’s all.”

“If I had your talents, I would be showing it off to whoever I could,” Remus smirked at you.

“A showboat Gryffindor. How unusual,” sarcastically replying, but a smile still threatened to take over your face.

“Admit it, the show offs in Gryffindor keep this school alive. . . and the ladies swooning,” Remus told you with a laugh.

“Absolutely no ladies are being swooned by the Marauders, I can tell you that,” you lied.

“I can think of a few ladies,” Remus looked right at you. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Did he know that you liked him?

Was he flirting with you?

There's no way he could like you back, right?

Before your thoughts could spiral anymore, the rest of the Marauders entered the room. You think you hear Remus give an exasperated sigh but you decide you’re being delusional.

“Time for you to leave,” Sirius gives you a head pat. “Can’t have my twin in detention for being out past curfew.”

“I get it, I get it,” you swat Sirius’ hand away from your hair, for the millionth time in your life. “I’ll see you losers tomorrow.”

With a wave and a look, mostly in Remus' direction, you bid the boys goodnight. You wouldn’t realize until too late, but you left your sketchbook sitting on your brother’s nightstand.

REMUS

“Shit, look at this,” Sirius whispered, picking up a leather bound book from his nightstand.

“Is that y/n’s sketchbook?” James asked, wide eyed.

“Let’s take a look inside,” Sirius exclaimed. With wide eyes, Remus shot up and attempted to grab the book from his friend.

“We shouldn’t do that. It’s an invasion of their privacy. Even I’m not allowed to look inside,” Remus sighed. He understood how important the book was to you. Even though he was as curious as the others to see inside, he would never want to ruin your trust in him.

“Come on, Moony. She’ll never know that we took a little peek inside,” Sirius claimed. Remus didn’t know what else to say so he just laid back in bed and tried to ignore his gossiping friends.

“Well, well, well. That is not at all what I was expecting,” James whispered. “Explains why they didn’t want us to see it.”

“Moony, come take a look at this. You’ll love it,” Sirius pleaded, excitedly.

“Unlike you guys, I don’t want them to hate me for invading their privacy,” Remus replied, exhausted.

“Trust me, they could never hate you. Just come here,” Sirius pulled Remus from his bed and brought him to look down at the sketchbook.

Remus blushed as he saw most of the pages filled with different drawings of him, some filled with cheesy hearts and flowers. He was surprised to see that most of the portraits had a little comment under them. The comments were about different stories that he told you.

He adored telling you stories, especially from whatever book had captured his attention that week. He never realized you actually listened to them or even cared enough to write them down for later.

“Someone has a crush on you Moony,” Sirius smirked.

And at the worst time possible, you walked right into their dorm and Remus watched as you took in the scene before you.

YOU

You were already all the way to your dorm by the time you realized that you left your sketchbook. You debated between leaving it there overnight, but a gut feeling pulled you back to the boys’ dorm. Not bothering to knock, you entered the room.

“Someone has a crush on you Moony,” Sirius smirked. All of the boys were crowded around Sirius’ bed and a blushing Remus.

“What’s going on here?” you nervously asked.

All 4 boys turned to you with the guiltiest faces possible. With them facing you, instead of hunched over the bed, you could see what captivated their attention. A familiar leather bound book.

You felt your stomach drop to the floor and tears threatening to fall. Silently, you walked up to the bed, not looking anyone in the eye, and harshly grabbed the book.

You were about to leave the room, when Sirius spoke up. “Hey, y/n. Wait-”

“No!” you screamed, turning to face the boys. All 4 of the Marauders shrunk at the sound of your voice. You never yelled before, especially at them. You were always level-headed and calm but the anger rolled off of you in waves at this moment. Remus tried to think of a time where you unleashed any kind of anger like this, but couldn’t think of one. Not even when you were ambushed by Slytherins, did you yell.

Sirius felt so much guilt at the sound of your voice, that he almost thought you walked up and slapped him. But no, you stayed glued to your spot next to the door.

You were seething. You never asked for much, always grateful for anything you had. You didn’t care when they annoyed you, pulled silly pranks on you, or even got you in trouble with the professors.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” you paused to collect your thoughts. “I’ve only ever asked you guys for one thing. Not invading my privacy. That was all I ever asked of you four. And here I find you guys doing exactly that.”

Your yelling was so loud that each of the boys wondered if the silencing charm around their dorm could contain it.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed a heated finger at Sirius. “As my brother, growing up in the same shit household, I thought you of all people would understand privacy and trust. Looks like I was wrong.”

With that said, you turned around to leave. Opening the door, you shot one pitiful look at Remus before making your way back to your dorm.

REMUS

“Fuck,” Sirius cursed. You guys never fought and it was obvious in Sirius’ distress. “We’ll fix this. We have to.”

“Well on the bright side, we know that they like Remus as much as Remus likes them,” James tried to soothe.

“Yeah, well any chance I had, is now gone,” Remus sighed, solemnly. He was the only one who saw the tears in your eyes as you looked back at him.

“We’ll fix everything in the morning. Don’t worry,” James tried to comfort.

With tired sighs, the boys did their best to go to sleep that night.

YOU

Fuck. You yelled at the boys. The embarrassment of the entire situation muted the anger you had for them. You were beyond angry about what they did, but even more embarrassed about what you were sure they found. No doubt had they realized how much you cared about Remus.

Oh, Merlin. Don’t even think about Remus. He didn’t utter a single world to you last night. He didn’t even stop you from walking out the door.

Walking into the Great Hall, you found the Marauders with their heads casted down, with depressed looks on their faces.

In no way did you forgive them, but you decided to take pity on them.

Wordlessly, you sat next to Sirius and across from Remus. You filled your plate with your favorite breakfast foods and ate.

The silence that overtook the group would have amused you under different circumstances. This group of boys did not know how to keep their mouths shut.

Your silent eating was only disrupted when you felt someone lightly tap your foot. You looked up to find Remus staring at you with an unreadable expression except for the blush staining his cheeks. You offered him a small smile back.

One look at all the boys staring at you had your heart cracking. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought that Sirius might even have unshed tears in his eyes.

You finally decide to speak up. “I’m still mad at you guys, but you are forgiven.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Sirius hugged you tight. The force almost knocked you out of your seat. “I’m so sorry. I promise, anything like that will never happen again. I never want to do anything that would make you yell at us.”

The love in your brother’s voice made you tear up as you tightly hugged him back. You realized that you could never stay mad at these boys forever.

Breakfast passed quickly after that, the usual jokes and conversations starting up. Once the meal was over, James and Sirius headed off to quidditch practice and Peter headed to his tutoring sessions. This left you alone with Remus, making you beyond nervous.

Grabbing your hand softly, Remus whispered, “Come to the Astronomy Tower with me, please.”

“Of course,” you easily replied. You were nervous to find out what awaited you but with the tight grip Remus had on your hand, you felt your bad thoughts fly away.

The walk up the stairs to the Astronomy tower was agonizingly long but Remus never once let his hand slip from yours.

Your mind was wandering the entire time. Had he looked through your book? You’re sure he did because he seemed embarrassed last night. Did he not like what he saw? He knew that you drew him because sometimes he would catch your eyes as you sketch away. But maybe he didn’t know the extent to which you drew him. Maybe he was uncomfortable with your small obsession with him.

“We’re here,” Remus whispered, derailing you from your current train of thought. With a smile, he pulled you over to one of the railings and you both stood there taking in the view. In the distance, you could see red robes whizzing around the quidditch field.

“Do you promise you’re not mad at us anymore?” Remus asked you with a hopeful smile.

With a blush and a sigh, you replied, “I promise. There’s no way I can stay mad at you guys forever.”

“Good. I don’t want my favorite lady to be mad at me,” Remus flirted. Your whole body felt like it heated up at his comment.

“Don’t tease me,” you snapped with an embarrassed huff. You didn’t need him to rub your crush on him in your face.

With wide eyes, Remus replied, “I’m not teasing you.”

You finally looked up at him, whispering “Then what are you doing?”

He looked into your eyes. Silence hung in the air but you didn’t care because of the twinkle in his eyes as he looked down at you.

Before you realized what was happening, his lips were on yours.

You stood still for a second, taking time to process what was happening. It didn’t take you long to kiss him back with almost as much fervor and passion as he was kissing you. His hands made their way from your waist to your hair. He was holding you as if he never wanted to let you go.

This close to you, he smelled of sandalwood and old books. He felt like heaven against you, and you never wanted this to end.

All too soon, Remus pulled away from you, leaving you to lightly trail your lips after him. He gave you a dashing smile, panting from the kiss.

You gave him a dazed smile of your own, excited for what was ahead of you.

Still panting and with a light blush covering his cheeks and nose, Remus winked at you. “Have I made you swoon?”

With a roll of your eyes and a pat on his chest, “I don’t know. Kiss me again and I might tell you.”

Remus laughed at your remark before bending down to kiss you again. This time slowly, as if the world revolved around you and time stopped.

#remus lupin #female reader #fluff #marauders #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin one shot #fanfiction

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mishapen-dear · 2 years

Text

There’s a little green something in the cracks of the road. Grian stares at it, and then he looks at Scar, who is humming cheerfully while he rummages in his bag, and then Grian looks back to the little plant.

Grian looks at Scar again. He takes a step closer to the plant. Scar, blissfully, does not notice.

Something fungal bubbles at the back of Grian’s throat.

He crouches, inconspicuous, next to the plant. He knows it isn’t grass, that it’s probably a weed, but he doesn’t know anything more. He doesn’t care to know anything more, really, and it won’t matter in a moment anyway. He reaches and-

A dull pain pings bright on his arm. He startles upright, wings flaring out, and Scar shoots him several more times with the Nerf gun. The little foam darts bounce harmlessly off of Grian’s chest.

“Bad Grian!” Scar scolds him cheerfully. “No plant killing! Bad!”

“But it’s a small one!” Grian protests immediately, startled and indignant at the embarrassment of being caught. Another foam dart hits him.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Ow- Scar, come on, it’s itsy bitsy,” Grian tries, wheedling now. “It won’t hurt anything.”

“Well, you know that’s not true. It’ll hurt the plant,” Scar answers reasonably. He waves his toy gun threateningly at Grian. “You know the deal, G. No pestulating in the Hoe-ly Spaces.” He uses his dramatic voice to say Hoe-ly Spaces. He always uses the dramatic voice to say Hoe-ly Spaces. Grian wants to punt Hoe-ly Spaces and all associated dramatisms into the sun.

“That’s not a word, Scar,” Grian says petulantly. He ruffles his wings and sits on the larger half of a broken concrete barrier. The vines that had been wrapped around the barrier writhe away from the spores that fall from his wings, so Grian vindictively shakes his wings more. This, at least, Scar does not scold him for.

“What? Sure it is.” Scar has gone back to rifling through his bag again. He keeps pulling out strangely shaped bottles of bright colours with baffling smells. Grian would be more alarmed, but he knows Scar has a weird thing with taking labels off of bottles. How the man ever remembers what goes where, though, he has no idea.

(He has some idea. Scar’s tongue is too many different colours, always, and he’s been almost poisoned thrice. By Grian’s count, the man should be dead.)

“Pestulate is not a word,” Grian says, doubling down.

“Then what is it?” Scar asks innocently. He pulls out a jug of blood and lugs it into the centre of the clearing.

“A nonsense.” Grian shakes his wings again. There’s now a full circle of empty asphalt and concrete around him, free of plant matter. His spores won’t root without living tissue, but he feels a little vindicated by every twitch of the green things moving away from him. “Are you done yet?”

“Grian, Grian, Grian, you can’t rush a good blood ritual” Scar exclaims. “Do you know what happened to the last guy to rush a blood ritual?”

“He di-”

“He died!” Scar presses a hand against his heart. “The plants swooped up and ate him! I found his bones, Grian! His bones!”

“We could just leave,” Grian suggests. “This is- what, the fifth blood ritual? We’re fine without them, Scar. I bet the Kingmaker doesn’t even notice.”

“Oh, pish-posh.” Scar holds out the jug and pours the blood straight down over the smallest unbloomed flower in the clearing. The jug makes awful noises as the blood chugs and glugs out of it, because Scar doesn’t care for any silly thing like fluid dynamics. The jug convulses like its gasping for air and it makes sounds that Grian thinks Scar would make if he were ever simultaneously choked and drowned. The red blood splashes across the green, seeps through the cracks in the asphalt, and gets all over Scar’s shoes. Grian draws his own feet up in distaste, but he’s far enough that no blood touches him. “You know that’s not his name.”

“He doesn’t get a name,” Grian says. “I’m mad at him.”

“Careful, Grian!” Scar says cheerfully. “That almost sounds like rebellion.”

Grian scoffs, loud, but he doesn’t say anything. Scar continues with his stupid blood ritual. Which is to say that Scar goes back to his bag, grabs a canteen, and returns to the plant. Without ceremony, Scar upends that jug over the plant too.

“Scar!” Grian squawks, scrabbling to his feet. “Scar, that’s all our water! Scar!”

“Oops!” Scar says cheerful.

“You only used a few drops for the other rituals!” Grian wails. “We just got that!”

“Oops!” Scar says again. He has no remorse. Grian snatches the nerf gun from where Scar had left it on the ground and shoots him with it. “Ow!”

“You’re the worst,” Grian says.

“Love you, too, G,” Scar says. He shakes the canteen to get the last few drops of water out. Grian watches them fall with despair. The water washes away the blood, dilutes it across the asphalt and towards the ring of vines and green things that surround them. Scar gives the little twice-baptised bloom a loving pat, and it opens in his palm. The petals are a different colour in each Hoe-ly Space, and the same holds true for here. These petals are unnaturally white, unsettlingly perfect, and-

“Is there another flower in there?” Grian demands.

Scar doesn’t lift his gaze. “Yeah,” he says. He touches a scarred hand gently to the second bloom, which shivers at the contact but doesn’t open. “Huh.”

“...Huh?” Grian echoes. “Scar?”

“It’s okay, G,” Scar says too fast. “Let’s just go shopping, yeah? All done here.” He steps back from the plant. He sees the look Grian is giving him and tries to give a bright smile in return. “Seriously, Grian, it’s fine.”

Grian has always had a knack for knowing when Scar is lying.

“...If you say so.” Grian watches Scar pack up his bag, holster the nerf gun, and throw the plant a two-fingered salute. He’s too quick. They haven’t been here for even twenty minutes, maybe, and normally Scar stretches the ritual to last an hour. Grian guesses that he’s not surprised that the blood-jug and the water are the only necessary components. The steps for the other rituals had been sporadically changed each time. “Ready to go?”

“Can we get ice cream on the way?” Scar asks, even though he knows that all the ice cream in the world has already melted.

“Sure,” Grian says, even though he knows that the corpses of the ice cream shop workers are ripe in their rot.

Scar steps up onto the concrete barrier, almost loses his balance then helps Grian up and almost sends them both toppling over. Grian doesn’t comment on it. Scar keeps casting glances to the weird plants, but stops when Grian opens his arms. Scar grabs onto him, tightly, and Grian holds tight in return. Grain’s wings start to flap (Scar sneezes at the spraying spores) and they step off the concrete barrier together. Soon, they’re in the air.

(Scar has cracked a Superman joke at least once every time Grian has flown him somewhere. This time he’s nothing but silent, and he keeps trying to peek back at the plant-filled bridge they’d left behind. Grian flies a little faster.)

—---

Scar lets Grian kill whatever he wants, most days. He doesn’t like mushrooms, or fungus, or mycelia-filled goo, but he doesn’t complain too much. It’s a good deal for both of them, Grian figures. Scar helps Grian with his whole ending-an-apocalypse-by-causing-a-different-apocalypse deal, and he’s good company in a world full of decomposing things that used to be people, and he lets Grian know when he’s getting too close to the rebellion line. The plants destroy anything that oppose them, and the last thing Grian wants is to openly oppose them.

Mushrooms are better. They’re kinder. Almost plant, almost animal, and there’s so much for them to eat. Much better than the violence of true plants.

Honestly? Grian shouldn’t even be alive. It’s pure luck that he found the mycelia before the plants could burrow into him, it’s luck that it Chose him, and it’s luck that it wants the world to end again.

(Sometimes, late at night, he wonders if he’d be happier if he’d been the first harbinger of end-times rather than the second. But, then again, mushrooms are components of decay. Scavengers rather than hunters- it makes sense, maybe, that the fungal spread occurs after the flora’s feast.)

Grian thinks he’s almost done. He used to be human, but now mushrooms sprout around him when he sleeps, and spores spread on the wind from his wings. He leaves large fields of fungus in his wake. Soon enough, he’ll have to actively hunt for the green and force it to recede. Soon enough, the old apocalypse will be ended, and the new ending can truly begin. That’s why Grian doesn’t mind carting Scar around to the last green places so much- Scar gets a free travelling companion, and Grian gets lead right to the green sources that Scar doesn’t want him to hurt. Grian doesn’t hurt them because then Scar will stop showing him where they are, and Grian is smart enough to bide his time. One day, maybe, Scar will die, and Grian will be free to kill as many green spaces as he wants.

(Grian shouldn’t have to kill him. The plants should have killed him. The fungus should have rotted him. Grian sometimes wonders what it means that he’s still alive. He licks poison and blood and shiny things that should give him tetanus, but he’s still alive.)

(Grian thinks about leaving, sometimes, but he never does. He’s always been too curious for his own good.)

“What’s that for?” Grian asks.

Scar freezes like a statue, weedkiller clutched tight in his hands. Slowly, as if Grian is a predator with poor eyesight, he hides it behind his back. Grian tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter.

“Scar. You know I can see you, don’t you?”

Scar deflates, shoulders slumping forwards as he pulls the weedkiller out again. “Okay, okay, you caught me, G,” he says. “I’m just… looking for a drink.”

“That’s weedkiller.”

“So?”

“...Okay, you’re not even trying now,” Grian says. “What’s with the weedkiller, Scar?”

Scar shuffles his feet and bites his lip, then huffs out a breath. “Are we alone?”

Grian, still smiling, raises his brows and looks around the store. Most of the shelves have been raided, several of them knocked over, and the only people in the vicinity haven’t been people in a long time.

“The plants, G,” Scar says impatiently.

“Oh, no, those are gone,” Grian says. “The mycelium works fast, you know that.”

“Right,” Scar says, and he goes quiet.

Grian eyes him, then gestures to a currently-indoor outdoor furniture set that doesn’t even have any blood on it. “Do you want to sit down?” he offers.

Scar makes a beeline for the furniture set, weedkiller still clutched tight in his grasp. Grian has barely figured out how to sit without crushing his wings when Scar blurts out, “The King’s called a meeting.”

Grian almost falls out of his seat. “What?”

“Yeah,” Scar says. “And I have to go, or, you know.” He jerks his head towards the nearest corpse. There are vines wrapped around its neck. “I was hoping you could give me a ride?”

Grian gapes at him. He feels his mental gears spinning frantically, completely tractionless. “Okay- wait.” He runs his hand through his hair and ignores the mushrooms that brush against his hand. “The King called a meeting- why? He hasn’t done that before- do you think he knows you’re working with me? This is probably a trap, Scar. You know this is probably a trap.”

Scar looks at the weedkiller on his lap. “Yeah.”

Grian stares. “Oh.”

Scar grimace-smiles. “I figured- you’ve been a good friend, Grian. I have… loyalty, to the crown, but I won’t let them kill you.”

“Oh.”

Scar shrugs a little self-consciously. “It’s the least I can do, you know?”

Grian doesn’t want to say it. He likes Scar, though, and he would feel guilty if he didn’t point out, “What’s stopping me from killing them, then? You know what my goals are.”

“Rebellion, Grian,” Scar says automatically. Grian winces and raises his hands in apology, and Scar continues. “I figured- well, maybe you won’t if I ask you really nicely?”

“That can’t be it.”

Scar shrugs. “You haven’t touched the spaces,” he explains. “And all I did there is ask you nicely.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Grian fumbles for a second. “That’s- it’s- like- chopping off a head will kill a body?” he tries. “Like- the spaces are the hands, and the King is the head, so that’s- yeah.”

“Are you going to chop his head off?”

Grian is quiet.

“Please, Grian, don’t kill him,” Scar says. He holds the weedkiller carefully, and his fingers keep nervously tapping at its sides. “Neither of them. None of them. Just- keep being your mushroomy, birdy self, okay? You don’t even have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”

Grian is silent.

“Please?”

Grian caves. Mournfully, he thinks of the Hoe-ly Spaces, and he thinks of the quiet rule he has to kill those whenever Scar dies. It feels wrong to delegate something like killing the King to that same rule, but- Scar is right. Beheading the King sounds like it comes too close to rebelling, anyway. “Okay.”

Scar lets out a breath, then gives Grian a winning smile. “Okay!” he says. “Okay, perfect! Hey, I think I saw some chocolate earlier, maybe it won’t be expired.”

“It’s definitely expired,” Grian says, but he stands and offers Scar a hand to help him up.

Scar takes the hand and pulls himself up to his feet. “It’s always good to have hope, G,” he says brightly, and they continue to ravage the store.

—---

The place Scar takes him to isn’t green at all. It’s white and red and brown, like old and new blood on white petals. Well, Grian shouldn’t be thinking in similes here- there is literally old and new blood staining old petals almost everywhere he looks.

The border of the Tree’s territory is made of wood, or whatever it is that roots are made of. They drip red onto the white flowers that make up the groundcover. It had been relatively easy to get past the border- it opened up when Scar approached, peacefully allowing him through. The roots shuddered furiously when Grian approached, but they didn’t kill him when he tucked his wings in and pretended to be demure, so he thinks that means he’s basically Scar’s unwelcomely welcomed plus one. He’s not sure if court people even get to have plus ones, but he’s not skewered by evil plant matter so he thinks that he gets to count as a plus one.

He’s maybe a little nervous.

The interior of the Tree’s territory doesn’t make him feel any more at ease, either. This, too, is a place that is blindingly white. The Tree itself sits in the very centre, painfully pale and looming. The King’s Spire sits to its right, a building of previously-white colours that has now been overgrown with green. Moss and vines, Grian thinks, but he can’t distinguish anything else. Beneath the Tree are several small figures that cause something fungal to gurgle in his throat when he looks at them too hard. Grian stays close to Scar and tries to turn his eyes to the ground.

It’s hard not to acknowledge the Tree, though. They approach it together, slowly engulfed by the leaf cover overhead and hidden from the sun. It’s almost dark. Grian feels very small. The last time he’d felt so small was when his human self had accepted the blessings of the mycelium. He’d been welcome, then, but there is no welcome for him here.

Scar, of course, seems unaffected.

“You’re late.” Grian chances a glance upwards to see a woman with dead eyes and red flowers sprouting from her hair. The fungal thing tries to crawl out of his mouth. He swallows hard and ducks his head. He’s suddenly questioning the might of Scar’s weedkiller against all of this. He understands a little, maybe, the might that would have been needed to bring the first apocalypse.

“I’m right on time,” Scar disagrees. “You’re just early.”

“Everyone else has gone.” The woman sounds unimpressed. “And who do you have with you? You know he wants these audiences to be one-on-one.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Scar dismisses. “Sym- synergy. We’re really synergetic. I couldn’t have gotten here at all without Grian.”

“Your funeral.”

“Ha,” Scar says. “As if.”

Grian is startled enough by this statement to look up at Scar, but Scar grabs him by the arm and ushers him towards the trunk of the Tree. “Hey, wait- what do you mean?” Grian hisses. It occurs to him for the first time that this could be a trap for him.

“Not now, G,” Scar mumbles to him. “Ask me later.”

Grian, ruffled, unruffles a little bit at that. After all, there wouldn’t be a “later” if Scar was going to kill him now, right? Grian is beginning to realize that Scar is wrapped up tighter in whatever- whatever this is a lot more than Grian had first assumed, and he does not like it. Not one bit. He hates this, actually, and he hates it more when Scar knocks on the trunk and the wood creaks as it twists and bends out of their way.

A voice from within calls, “Welcome, Goodtimes, to my most private of areas.” And Grian hates that most of all.

They enter the Tree. The Tree creaks and groans and it closes behind them. Trapping them inside. And Grian hates this so much.

He finds even more to hate as they delve deeper into the almost-room that’s waiting for them. The King sits on a throne in the centre, drooping like a wilted flower. He’s dead. Grian can tell that immediately- he wants to spread his wings and spread the spores, but Scar asked him not to, and-

Wait. What?

Grian looks again. The King continues to be dead. The crown sits golden on his head, shining and perfect. The King is undecayed, unblemished, but his eyes are flat, and he isn’t breathing, and Grian can almost hear the creaking as he scowls.

“What have you brought me?”

“Presents,” Scar promises. “Just as you’ve asked. They’re for you, too, Bdubs.”

Grian again begins to wonder if this is a trap. Before he can continue that train of thought, however, there’s more creaking as the Tree shudders around them. The walls shiver, and lichen sloughs downwards until there’s just a human-shaped lump of green left against the wall. The human lump turns around and looks right at Grian with its impossibly large eyes.

Grian almost bares his teeth. He knows that look. This is competition.

(Competiton for what? There’s so much to fight over, probably, if he really thinks hard about it.)

“Why is the bed made of dirt?” Grian asks.

Scar balks, the King pauses, and the lichen-man stares.

“I mean, not to ruffle any feathers,” Grian rushes, valiantly not ruffling any of his. “I guess I was just expecting…”

“What?” The dead King asks.

“More?” Grian says. “Pillows? Blankets? Uh. More gold, I guess, but I know people don’t really carry that around these days. Didn’t.”

“The crown is gold,” the lichen man says.

“Aye, but tis a tiny crown,” the King concedes.

“And the bed is made of dirt,” Grian says.

“It’s a plant apocalypse,” the lichen-man -Bdubs- says. “Of course the bed is made of dirt. It’s not like he actually needs any sleep.”

“I like to nap,” the dead King protests. “Royal naps are very important, Bdubs.”

“Of course, your highness, of course,” Bdubs says quickly. “But the dirt is fine, right?”

“I mean,” the King says. “A dirt nap is mighty thematic, all considering, but… You there, Goodtimes! Have you brought your king a pillow?”

“Uh- no, no.” Scar laughs a little, startled. “No, I didn’t.”

“Shame,” the King says. The Tree rumbles. “Then you have failed me. Goodbye, Goodtimes. You served me well.”

“Whuh-” Grian starts.

“Woahwoahwoa-” Scar babbles.

“WAIT!” Bdubs shouts.

The Tree stops rumbling.

“Yes?” the King asks.

Bdubs looks at the King, then he looks at Scar, then he looks to Grian, then he looks back to the King. “Scar - Goodtimes has displeased you mightily, my liege,” he hazards. The dead King nods wisely. “Right-right- but he has displayed his loyalty quite mightily, too! The blood sacrifices are always pleasing, aren’t they?”

“You would have me grant mercy?” The King sounds displeased. Grian shuffles. He wonders if it’s even possible to kill a dead guy. He wonders if his mushrooms can kill. He hasn’t had much practice spreading them on purpose, but maybe if he can get them in the eyes?

“No, no, no, no mercy,” Bdubs amends hastily. “Just- inconvenience.” He leans in and whispers loudly. “My lord, he has a friend with him. The oncoming rot? I’m just saying- two birds with one stone here.”

“Oh?” The King looks closer at Grian. Grian lifts his wings a little in a threat display. The King nods slowly. “I see, I see… Goodtimes, I offer you a choice.”

“I don’t want to make a choice,” Scar says, more weakly than Grian has ever heard him.

“Nonetheless you have it!” the King booms. “Goodtimes- you may spare your own life, or the life of the oncoming rot. You have-”

“To give you your gifts first,” Scar says loudly.

The King pauses. “You interrupt me?”

“For presents,” Scar says quickly. He pulls of his bag and rifles through it quickly. Bdubs shuffles over and Scar hands over several unlabelled bottles. Salvation. Hope rises within Grian until, alarmingly, he realizes that none of the jugs are the weedkiller.

“Scar,” Grian says quietly.

“It’s okay, G,” Scar replies quickly.

Bdubs opens each jug and sniffs it in turn, then brings them to the King and pours them at the base of the throne. With each bottle the King’s body twitches, making noises like an ancient rocking chair, and- it takes Grian a moment to notice, but each bottle emptied at his feet brings life back to the King’s features. He grins, wide and sharp-toothed, and Grian wonders if he’s lost his chance to escape.

“Now, the choice,” the King begins.

“No,” Grian says, and he lets loose.

He’s on the ground three seconds later.

Lichen fills his mouth, vines around his wrist and wings, bark already growing quickly over his legs to trap him in place. Bdubs wipes a stray mushroom off of his sleeve in disgust, and Scar stares with wide, despairing eyes.

Do something! Grian tries to yell back with his own eyes. Scar doesn’t do anything except let out a breath, and then start to smile.

Scar says, “Phew! That took you forever, Bdubs.”

“Huh?” Bdubs says.

“I started thinking you weren’t going to stop him at all,” Scar remarks, and Grian’s heart drops into his stomach.

“OH,” Bdubs says loudly. His eyes sparkle. “Oh, so this- oh, phew! You got me worried there, Scar! Really worried! ‘Why is he hanging out with the oncoming rot,’ I said.”

“I said that,” the King argues.

“Of course, of course,” Bdubs says quickly. “Anyway, I said ‘wow, I wonder why Scar is hanging out with the oncoming rot!’ But you just needed a bit of help with this one, didn’t you?”

Scar smiles widely. He rummages through his bag again. “Right on, Bdubs,” he says. “Can’t kill a fungus surrounded by fungus, right? It’ll just grow right back!” The two of them chortle together and Scar brings another jug out of his backpack.

In fragile hope, Grian’s heart begins to beat again because he recognizes that jug. It’s the weedkiller. Label torn off. Scar opens it, takes a sip, and doesn’t flinch.

Grian feels several emotions all at once.

Scar hands the weedkiller over to Bdubs just as the King says, “What are you waiting for, Goodtimes?”

“You still have my bow, King,” Scar says.

“I thought we gave that back…?” The King looks questioningly to Bdubs.

“You took it away again after Scar failed to provide appropriate subservience, my lord.”

“Oh, well have it back, then, Goodtimes.” The King waves his hand and more of the tree creaks and moans. A real and true bow and quiver are revealed when the floor pulls back. Grian wriggles frantically, fear spiking again. Scar still hasn’t wavered. Grian is starting to doubt the contents of the weedkiller jug. He tries to flap his wings but the bark has grown over the edges. He tries to let the fungus out but his throat is clogged by lichen. The wood around him dies and tries to rot but it’s just grown over and living again in less than a second.

Scar strides over, playing with the quiver. He kneels next to Grian, then pulls out an arrow. Grian stares up at him, making his eyes as wide and pleading as he can. Scar doesn’t look at him. “Long live the King,” Scar says, raising his arrow. Bdubs raises the jug to him, but doesn’t drink.

Consternation flashes over Scar’s face, and Grian feels another rush of emotion he doesn’t know how to parse. Then Scar’s expression hardens and he brings the arrow down.

It hurts. Grian yells against the lichen in his mouth. There isn’t any blood- Grian isn’t human anymore. Of course there isn’t blood. There is an arrow in him and there isn’t any blood and Scar raises his fist with a cheer, and the King raises both arms with a cheer, and Bdubs drinks the weedkiller.

The Tree shudders.

The King collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

Bdubs shrieks. The weedkiller drops. It sprays over the floor. The Tree screams. Grian thinks he’s also screaming. Scar isn’t screaming. Scar is frozen, false smile plastered across his face, and Grian realizes with dizzying clarity that he has no fucking clue when Scar is or isn’t lying. That’s a weird thing to realize in the worst moment of Grian’s after-apocalypse life and it’s so silly he just starts to laugh. He stops laughing when a branch spears through Scar’s chest.

“Traitor!” Bdubs yells. Three more branches strike Scar through. He gasps at each one, but he doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t try to get away. He doesn’t stop smiling. He doesn’t start bleeding. “The King trusted you!”

“The King is dead, Bdubs,” Scar says. “And your apocalypse has been ending. The oncoming rot hasn’t been oncoming for a long time- it’s been here-” he gestures wildly to Grian, who has yet another flurry of unregistered emotions “-the whole time, and you’ve let it!”

“The plants-”

“Kill those who oppose,” Scar says. “But your court has been opposing you since the moment you raised them. You failed your own apocalypse.”

Grian feels dizzy. He isn’t bleeding, but he is dying.

Why isn’t Scar bleeding?

“...What are you?” Bdubs asks. He’s breathing heavily. Grian’s vision is swimming, but he thinks Bdubs has sunk down to the floor. “Why-“ another branch spears Scar through “- aren’t-” another “-you-” another “-dead?”

“I’unno,” Scar says. “It never sticks.” The Tree rumbles overhead. Grain can feel it through the floor. “How about you? Are you dead yet, Bdubs?”

There’s silence. “Bdubs?”

The Tree stops rumbling.

“I don’t think poision is supposed to work like that,” Scar says. Or he says something like it. Grian isn’t sure. He’s really tired.

There’s something warm pressed against his face. “I didn’t lie to you,” Scar says quietly. Grian makes a little noise. “I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t let them kill you. I didn’t say anything about me. Doesn’t that mean something, G?” Grian doesn’t answer. “Yeah, yeah…”

Grian breathes out, slow, through his nose.

“You’d hate it the other way around,” Scar promises quietly. “But you did it, Grian. Bdubs wouldn’t have drank that without you. That was you, alright? You did it, you won. New apocalypse, new you. That’s the way it goes. The King died, and now it’s you, and- and it won’t be like this. It’ll be better. I don’t like mushrooms, but I’ll learn to like them when they’re you, okay?”

Grian can’t reply.

“I’ll see you soon, Grian,” Scar mumbles, and he sounds so far away.

And Grian goes to sleep.

And Mother Spore wakes up.

---

written for the @pinchhitsfromthevoid event and for the @ghastspidergwen person! this got. wildly out of hand basically the second i started to write it. unfortunately i suffer from "cannot write a normal apocalypse au" disease but eyyy that just means its a two-apocalypse package deal, which was really fun to write. hopefully it's just as fun to read!

(also on ao3)

#i wrote this in like four or five hours and posted On the deadline #this is almost pure stream of consciousness babeyyyyy #mishapen words #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft fic #<- lemme know if i need to add any more trigger tags #hello tag readers. i want you all to know how genuinely little i planned this fic going into it #i do not understand how there's several moments of foreshadowing #i cannot comprehend the fact that the consistencies outnumber the inconsistencies #this fic wrote itself and i was merely its possessed vessel for four-five-however-many-hours #anyway spoilers in the next few tags you have been Warned #look away now #have you looked away #it's okay i read ahead when i shouldn't too #these are the trigger tags for filtering purposes theyve got to be spoilery sorry about that #death tw #blood tw #body horror tw #<- im not sure the body horror really Applies but there you have it anyway #lemme know if i missed any

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boomitsallie1 · 2 years

Text

Mirrorball

PAIRING: Eddie Munson x Reader (pretty gender neutral i believe but if you catch anything LMK)

Summary : Eddie has his sights on Chrissy Cunningham, and who can blame him?

Warnings: slight mention of ED, Eddie being a jerk to reader? Idk Based loosely on the song Mirrorball by T swift. I was listening to it when I wrote this.

It was hard to watch his eyes flutter to her table every time her joyous laugh rung through the small cafeteria. I’m not sure exactly when it began, when his happy, dopey gazes with the hellfire club became longing ones for the petite blonde that sat across the room. I couldn’t blame him though, this is Chrissy we were talking about, the princess of Hawkins high. She had everyone wrapped around her perfectly manicured nails, breaking them down slowly with her sweet smile and kind eyes.

I didn’t hate Chrissy. I couldn’t, ever.

Chrissy and I had grown up together, living just across the street from each other. I sat in her living room, whilst her and her mother were in the kitchen. While her parent figure in her life degraded her appearance, tearing her down slowly.

Our friendship had ended abruptly when we entered high school. Chrissy’s mother had pressured the young girl to try out for the cheer team, and after that the friendship dwindle too practically nothing. To a friendly wave if we happened to pass in the halls, but not of course without a sneer from her football playing boyfriend Jason.

Because of course, freaks don’t mix well with the popular crowd.

Yet the longing gazes from our dungeon master continues.

The fixation begun to sneak into the clubs’ campaigns as the months continued too past. He’d come into 10 to 20 minutes late, a small smile on his face and the traces of old weed and her perfume rolling off him.

That smell made my chest hurt.

And here we are, yet again, waiting for the curly hair DM to arrive, while I set up our campaign. A soft sigh left my lips, the sound filling the small and quiet room. Then, there was a click, followed by a booming voice. “Hello, my little black sheep!” his voice echoed, walking through the room with a small pep in his step. He ruffled Dustin’s hair, much to the small boy complaint, before taking a plop beside me in his throne.

Weed and vanilla perfume.

My chest begun to constrict.

He wore a lazy smile as he spoke with the hellfire club, taking in all the information the excited boys had for the next campaign. That was until, Lucas spoke up about his next game coming up, and how he’d really appreciate if they could try to make this one, as it was the last game of the season before nationals. And of course, the curly black-haired man scoffed at this.

“You can’t just skip hellfire to throw some stupid balls into a laundry basket” Eddie laughed, which made a soft scoff escape past my lips. I prayed that it was soft enough to not draw attention to myself but based off the glare Eddie was sending my way, I know my prayer was not heard. “Got something to say, sweetheart?” He hissed, trying to present himself as threatening. I shook my head, which caused a small tick to escape from him, before he relentlessly encouraged me to speak my mind. A soft sigh left my lips, before I begun to explain myself.

“I just think its unfair, eds” I spoke softly, “we sit here every day, waiting for the guy who controls our campaigns to show up. You expect us to waste our time and wait for you hand and foot, and you give Lucas a hard time by him just because of this other activity he does, let alone support him in his athletic career.”

“Sounds like you’re a bit jealous, Y/N” he spoke, “No eddie, I-“ I begun to say, but he cut me short, with the raise of a ringed hand, and sharp nod. “If you don’t like what my rules are for Hellfire club, your more then welcome to leave it”.

And that’s when my chest collapsed.

I took in a sharp breath, while Mike and Dustin began to talk over Eddie. He begun to yell at them, as my chair scraped out from beneath me. Eddies brown eyes gazed up at me, the slight recognition of what he had just said changing his face in the slightest. Reaching into the front pocket of my ripped black jeans, placing a red and black marbled swirled D20 in front of him. His eyes flickered from my face, to the dice I placed before him, before back up at me.

“happy 2 years of Hellfire, dungeon master.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie x chrissy #eddie the freak munson

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lavenderbexlatte · 2 years

Text

day 5 - size kink

nct 1.4k words female reader insert Reader x Johnny Suh NSFW

🖤 warnings: johnny suh is very annoying but he has an undeniably big dick, friends to lovers scenario, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a bit of a pain kink 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"Oh, no, I'll get it."

He's such an ass.

You love Johnny, don't get it twisted. He's a great friend, a ride or die, an equal opportunity drinking buddy and museum date and wingman. Not the kind of guy you ever thought you'd be friends with, but he's such a feature in your life now, you can't remember what you did before you had him to hang out with at all hours.

Except when he's like this.

"I can reach," you dismiss.

"But it's so much easier for me," he says coolly.

He reaches over your head to grab the bottle on the top shelf of your kitchen cabinet, easily, barely stretching, and holds it out to you with the worst self-satisfied look on his face.

You're not that short. You're really not, it's just that Johnny is so fucking tall. He swears he's only six-foot, but that's impossible. Six-two, you'd guess, or more.

He's just big. Overall. Especially when he's interested in bulking up, like he is now, no hint of the tall and lanky frame he'd had up until just a few years ago (and that he quickly returns to having in the occasional months when work takes over his mind and he neglects the gym and the protein powder). At times like this, he's tall, he's broad, and you can tell just from how he carries himself that he's more aware than ever of just how big he is.

For a guy who likes to slouch and shrink and practically lay down in every chair, he's just big.

"Did I ask for your help?" you snark.

"You didn't need to," he replies. "I have to use my powers for good."

"Busybody."

"I just wanna take care of you," he coos, ruffling the top of your head.

You shove him away. "Like I said, didn't ask."

The tiny kitchen in your apartment is small enough that you're constantly bumping into Johnny if he comes over to cook with you, but now he's getting into your space on purpose. You can tell, by the way he's reaching over your shoulder to grab utensils, looming behind you to watch the dish in the pot you're finishing up. You shouldn't have reacted so much. Giving him a reaction only eggs him on more, because he's the worst.

It's just Johnny, boxing you in to piss you off, but a feeling that you've never wanted to associate with Johnny is brewing every time he draws too close.

You're not really short, but that's not to say that you don't like feeling short. Small. Easy to toss around, easy to-

"'Scuse me," Johnny says, not apologetic at all, as he reaches for the cupboard again.

Annoyed, you turn around to push him again, but he's so close that you've essentially turned yourself right into his arms, your face nearly meeting his chest. His face is right above you as he reaches upward, and he smirks.

There's no ulterior motive, you can tell. He's just trying to bother you, pushing your buttons about being smaller than him and unable to reach some shelves in your own kitchen. Johnny is your friend, one of your best friends, and there's no way he's doing this on purpose.

But that doesn't change the fact that you are just the tiniest bit undeniably turned on. A tiny bit.

Or more than that. Maybe a lot more than that.

It's not that it's Johnny, you tell yourself. It's that he's so much bigger than you. That fact itself is punching you in the feral brain, making you react as if this is a real person and not Johnny. He leans down farther, looking just a bit confused. You're probably making an audacious face.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

You can practically feel his voice vibrating up from his chest. Oh, this is bad.

"No," you say, entirely unconvincing.

Johnny huffs out a laugh and backs off slightly, reaching to turn off the stove burner. He can reach it from here. This is so bad.

"Cuz you look like you're gonna be sick," he says, obviously amused.

"It's just hot in here," you lie.

"No, it's not. I'm chilly, actually," Johnny says, edging closer to you again. "Gotta share body heat."

"Johnny!"

He's pressing you against the counter, now, stretching to his full height. You can't help but feel bad, guilty even, about the arousal pealing through you, since he's so obviously just being a pain, just messing around-

Until he shifts, just a little, and you feel it.

He's hard. He likes this just as much as you do. Oh, no-

You freeze. His eyes blow wide.

And he backs up for real, draws away quickly. "Sorry. I know you don't like being called short, I got carried away-"

"I do like it," you say, mouth moving faster than your good sense, scrabbling for his arm to drag him close again. "I like it when - sometimes if I-"

He cuts you off. "Are you gonna kick my ass if I kiss you?"

It's a valid question, because he's drunkenly kissed you without permission maybe twice and both times you smacked him so hard that it left a mark, but things are different, here.

"Nope."

"Good."

Kissing Johnny is a strange experience, but you don't hate it. His lips are hesitant, but his hands are eager, exploring your waist, your hips, straying to grope your ass so quickly that you wonder how long he's wanted to do it.

"Horny bastard," you mutter.

"Could say the same thing about you," he replies.

He's got a loose grip at the back of your neck, and you shudder realizing how much of your skin he can cover with just one splayed hand. He notices, too, if the way he tightens up his hold is any indication. You're foggy with arousal, looking up, up at Johnny, thinking about what more he could do for you, what it would be like to only be able to see and hear and feel him...

"You really like this," he muses, obviously thinking hard despite the circumstances. "If your thing is tall guys, what about that last one you dated, the one-"

"It's not just about height," you say. "Big guys, sure, but also big-"

"Oh, you're covered, then," he interrupts.

Typical Johnny. Such an ass.

"Impress me," you quip.

He's hauling you toward the bedroom faster than you can react. You'd never seen yourself as particularly easy to haul or carry or anything of the sort, but Johnny's apparently got the height and the muscle to do just that, maneuvering you easily into your equally-tiny bedroom and depositing you on your bed.

There's no hesitation as Johnny presses you up the bed until you're laying comfortably in your pillows, with him looming above you. He probably assumes - correctly - that you'd stop him if you didn't like something.

But you have no intention of stopping him.

He shucks off his shirt, and there's just so much of him, planes of tanned skin and muscle. He makes quick work of your clothes, and the rest of his own. You find out pretty quickly that he wasn't lying about having you covered, intimately - he's big. Proportional to his body, yes, but that means he's simply big.

"I've wanted this for a while," Johnny admits, tracing his hand down your bare side.

"Secretly pining away?" you tease.

He grins, lopsided. "More like, you're cool and hot and I figured this would be fun."

It's not a love confession, but it's almost better. Assurance that this is being done out of fondness and excitement, not some kind of one-sided romantic urge.

"I'm ready for you," you say.

Johnny makes a bit of a face, reaching down to tentatively swipe his fingers through your wetness, which, like you'd just fucking said, is plenty enough for what you want.

"I should probably make sure-"

"I like it if you just..." you gesture, embarrassed, unsure how to say nicely what you mean, "It's...it's okay if it hurts, a little."

You like to really feel that first push in, is what you mean. What fun is fucking someone with an objectively huge cock if you don't even get stretched out on it to the point of a little pain, sometimes?

He seems to understand without you saying all of that, though, grinning down at you darkly and lining himself up. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

"Get on with it - Jesus-"

He always has to get the last word in, even indirectly like this, as you cut yourself off with a hissed breath as he begins easing his way in. Just the first stretch of his tip is heavenly, exactly what you want, a bit of a delicious burn.

You know you're in for it when Johnny smiles for real. He knows what he's doing, the stupid prick.

"How's a little thing like you gonna handle me?"

#kinktober 2022 #kpop kinktober #nct johnny fanfic #nct johnny smut #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh smut #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut

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exhaustedcatte · 1 year

Text

Teddy Remus Lupin

“Ted! D’you mind helping me clear out the attic?” Andromeda Tonks yelled from the kitchen.

The taffy-haired boy slung his arm across her shoulders as he veered his grandmother towards the stairs. “Yeah, ‘course I’ll help, but what’s the occasion?”

“We haven’t enough rooms for guests.”

Teddy shrugged.

They made their way into the attic, a spacious cavern with cardboard boxes piled high along the perimeter.

Andromeda handed Teddy a cloth and a duster to arm himself with, and then set to work.

The pair removed the boxes and Teddy found numerous playthings and toys, all from his childhood.

“We can sterilise them and give them to Hermione. She is expecting, isn’t she.”

“Oh Ted,” Andromeda clapped her hands together, “that’s a lovely idea.”

Andromeda levitated the boxes downstairs, to pass on to the kids and what was unusable was to be donated.

They worked in tandem, occasionally pausing to rifle through obscure Black Family possessions and some of his grandfather’s muggle keepsakes. Teddy pocketed an interesting looking device – a Walkman, it said. He didn’t want it to end up in the Weasley bin and have Arthur fiddle with it.

The doorbell rang when they were halfway through. Teddy unloaded the last of his toys into a plastic bin, and jumped over miscellaneous trash to open the door.

“Hiya Ted!” Harry grinned.

And at the same time, Draco smiled, “Hello, Edward.”

“Hey guys!” He huffed a laugh, “How come you’re both here?”

“Surprise,” Harry ruffled his hair.

His uncle shook his head in disagreement, “Your knuckle-headed godfather must’ve forgotten that today was my turn to have you.”

“Did not!” Harry pressed an offended hand to his chest.

Draco rolled his eyes at Teddy and behind him Harry mouthed ‘kinda did’.

“Teddy! Who is it?”

“It’s just Draco and Harry, grandma,” Teddy yelled back.

“Where’s your grandmother?” Draco asked him, politely sidestepping the mess that had been levitated into the drawing room.

“We’re cleaning the attic, she didn’t want anyone sleeping on the couch, so.”

“We’ll help, let’s get your grandma out of that allergy box,” Harry clapped Teddy’s back.

“I’m allergic to dust,” Draco sniffed delicately.

Harry raised a brow, blinking in disbelief, “Could’ve fooled me when you followed me to the most cruddy places, Malfoy.”

“Aunt Andromeda! Let’s get that finished for you,” Draco marched ahead, neck growing pink below his mullet.

The three boys sent Andromeda down to bake her infamous biscuits, while they tidied the place.

“So, which one of us are you banishing to up here?” Draco asked, lifting his hands to levitate boxes downstairs.

“Can’t you just use your wand, you showoff?” Harry jested.

“I don’t have my wand on me Potter, and it’s not like you don’t know how to forgo using your wand.”

Teddy ignored the banter. “I’m actually thinking I’d like this place for myself.”

Harry pivoted on his foot, “That would be wicked.”

Draco lifted another box and was magicking that downstairs when he bumped into Harry and the things in the box came pouring out.

“I swear to fucking Merlin, Potter,” Draco began, as Harry moved away – hands raised in surrender, but Teddy accidentally interrupted him.

“What the hell is that?”

“Language,” Draco murmured absently, kneeling down as well.

There was a huge album, embossed RJ. Lupin, crammed to the brim with pictures.

“Wow,” Harry breathed, touching the cover reverently.

“That’s not…” Teddy looked up for confirmation. “That’s my dad’s.”

Draco hesitantly opened the book.

Inside were pictures Teddy had never seen before.

There were photographs of four young boys, round faced and bright eyed. Pictures of them wearing matching scarves, all of them bundled in one huge sweater, them sporting matching butterbeer ‘staches. Four boys doing absolutely everything together.

The tawny haired kid, despite the thin silvery scars on his knuckles, had the biggest smile on his face. He stared hard at it, trying to burn it into memory, swallowing the growing ball of heat in his throat.

“Dad,” Harry smiled sadly, tracing a photo of James Potter tackling Remus in a hug. “I used to hear that I looked exactly like him for all my life. I don’t anymore.”

The implication was obvious. Harry was now older than James had gotten to be.

“You still look very similar. He was a handsome man, your dad,” Draco rubbed Harry’s back consolingly.

“Calling me handsome, Malfoy?”

“Take it as you will.”

The next few snapshots were of Remus, Sirius and James. Heads bent over a huge piece of parchment, fitted smartly in dress robes, pie-faced on halloween, wearing Santa hats.

Then came another year.

Remus was visibly the tallest of the quartet. He had shot up severely, his face was more rugged, almost roguishly handsome. A shadow of stubble on his face, hardened jaw, a strong nose. He had shed the last shreds of childish innocence, to give way to a handsome young lad. But even still, his big amber eyes, even through pictures, were so kind. Love omnipresent in them.

Remus was shot studying, or gallivanting with his troop in all the photos. He was stooped over a wrinkly hand (Teddy wondered if it was Hope Lupin) painting the nails a pale pink. Remus was in the library, the kitchens, the astronomy tower, all after bed-time. Teddy felt relief bubble up in him, his father had had fun in his time at Hogwarts, no matter the circumstances.

Draco turned the page.

There were a lot of pictures of whom Harry identified as Sirius Black. The man had had an incredibly handsome youth. Beautiful grey eyes, long shiny hair, cuttingly high cheekbones. His complexion pallid, a shock against the ink black of his hair. His heart shaped face drew stop at a pointy chin.

Where Remus looked hardened, Sirius appeared delicate. The Black genes were strong, he recognised a lot of Andromeda in his grand-uncle.

“He was quite the looker,” Draco acknowledged.

Teddy noticed through the corner of his eye how Harry kept looking at Sirius and back at Draco. He also seemed to find the Black genes in a relative, just like Teddy had.

There was a picture of Sirius laughing at something a girl beside him was saying. The red-head had appeared in many photos as the boys grew.

“My mum,” informed Harry.

Sirius was captured sticking his tongue out at Peter, tackling James, hugging a few other friends. All candid. Teddy assumed it was his father taking these pictures.

More artistic shots of the Black family heir were also pasted in the album – Sirius teetering on the edge of a balcony, downing a glass of wine, holding his wand up in lumos, standing against a bike in a parking lot dressed in leather.

“That’s a whole lot of Sirius,” Teddy noted quietly.

And then they flipped another page. Remus – expertly blowing a smoke-ring.

A shocked laugh escaped Teddy, “Is he holding a cigarette?!”

“Your father and his friends were quite the troublemakers, don’t be fooled by all the pictures of them studying,” Harry laughed fondly.

Draco agreed, smiling, “He retained that streak for mischief. It’s what helped him cope, I suppose.”

There was a whole spread of shaken photographs, giving away that the person behind the camera was either inexperienced or a pureblood, possibly both. All the photos were of his father. Reading, drinking tea, rolling weed, dancing too.

“My father was so cool,” he realised.

“We’d have made good friends,” Draco mused. “Maybe in another life.”

“If your head were less inflated, maybe.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

Then there were photos of just Sirius and Remus together.

There was not a hair’s gap between them in that timeframe. Them in a music shop, pointing at a stack of records. Remus reading to Sirius. Remus, Peter and Lily Potter holding up a banner for their two quidditch boys. Sirius playing with Remus’ hair. Remus applying kohl on Sirius’ eyes. The two of them laying beside each other under the shade of a tree. Them laughing, smiling, even crying.

Them kissing.

“What.”

It was a very clear photo. Remus was kissing his best friend. They were stood in the middle of an empty apartment, cardboard boxes stacked high behind them.

“What the hell?” Teddy asked weakly, head spinning at this knowledge.

“Er…” Harry turned to Draco, who also seemed at a loss of words.

And then there were more. Teddy could see in their eyes the amount of love they had for each other. Absolute adoration.

“Oh my god,” Teddy gasped at the scandalous photo. Even Harry’s eyes bugged out.

The two men were clearly not dressed below their bed linens. Sirius had draped himself over Remus’ tan chest. Both of them sound asleep.

“Well, what can I say. Seems like they had fun and I respect that,” Draco shrugged, trying to appear unfazed, but there was a distinct flush on his skin.

The photos ended abruptly after a series of shots of the Potter family and themselves. That’s when the war took a toll on them.

They closed the album silently. The quietness extended till Teddy cleared his throat.

“So… my dad and Sirius had a thing?” He asked, trying to be casual.

“I didn’t know,” Harry said honestly. “But seems so, huh.”

“Mum did mention once that Sirius was a disgusting faggot. Now look, I am too,” Draco laughed.

“It’s not disgusting,” Teddy assured hastily. He had to say it aloud, he owed it to his father, his uncle.

Harry agreed vehemently. “It doesn’t matter!”

Draco smiled at them, “I know, but thanks Ted, Potter.”

Teddy moved the album into his own plastic bin, to keep it safe.

The trio turned their attention to the rest of the things spilled on the hardwood floor.

Teddy sifted through the heap.

There were envelopes with letters; unsent, he guessed. Thick stacks of postcards, all addressed to some town in Wales. There were other things, but he wouldn’t ever know the reason his father had kept them. Quidditch jerseys with POTTER and BLACK printed on the backs, broken rectangle glasses, some sort of muggle board game. Banners with Gryffindor painted onto it. Records of ABBA, Queen, David Bowie, Frank Sinatra – the covers of which had a small Love, Lily scrawled on them. Parchments of recipes, all signed in the end with Cheers, Pete.

“Oh Remus,” Harry sighed.

Teddy blinked back his tears.

This entire house held the life of his mother, and he loved that a lot. To be able to learn of her in her own childhood home. Teddy had inherited his mother’s ability to shape-shift. He was also a Hufflepuff like his mum.

He didn’t know what of him was Remus.

But McGonagall promised him that she saw a lot of Remus’ personality in him; in his driven attitude, snark, in his pranks and his extreme love for chocolates and tea and sweets. She always smiled at him with pride and a tinge of reminiscence.

Teddy’d had nothing materialistic of his father, whose life even Andromeda knew only from the two years shared in Hogwarts. And he was suddenly gifted with more of his father’s post mortem possessions than he knew what to do with, but he’d keep them safely, he’d protect all of what was left of Remus.

Teddy ran his fingers along the edge of a photo frame. The picture inside was unlike those in the album, it was definitely a magicked one. Sirius was kissing the corner of Remus’ mouth, whose lips were stretched into a wide smile. The photo cut off right when the boys began to crack up.

“He was happy. He was in pain every month, but still so happy.”

“Ted,” Harry raised his head up. “Your dad loved you to pieces. He went through a lot, but he found people to love, and you were one of them.”

Draco affirmed this with a silent nod.

Teddy knew that, of course. In his room, in glass frames were pictures of him as a child, being held by his parents. Remus was obviously ecstatic, staring lovingly at the little cherub in his arms. Teddy didn’t doubt for a second that his father loved him. It was visible. Just as it was in his pictures with Sirius.

Teddy gathered all of the things and carefully placed them in his box, to keep in his room and to go through them leisurely.

They cleaned the attic in record time, when the smell of Andromeda’s baking wafted up and tickled their noses.

She distributed teacups and placed a platter of cookies on the teapoy.

“Grandma,” Teddy began hesitantly after they settled on the sofa.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about my dad and Sirius? Please?”

She froze midway pouring Harry a cuppa. “How did you–?”

“Remus had an album,” Draco explained softly, apologetic. “Evidence is plentiful.”

She laughed a little to herself, “Oh, of course. He had a habit of preserving all kinds of bits and bobs, your dad.”

Teddy sat up curiously. “Why?”

“I think he believed that if he didn’t have a memory of it, it didn’t exist. Things were always ripped away from him…”

It became solemn.

“So, did Sirius introduce you to Remus ever?” Draco sipped his tea.

Andromeda got a faraway look in her eyes, “It was the first time Remus had entered this house. Hand in hand with my cousin, who had been cut off and disowned then. He was the only one I trusted with Sirius’ heart. My cousin had grown up without love, but Remus was so patient and loving. And I’m certain Sirius was also the same.”

“Dad loved him, didn’t he?”

His grandmother smiled, wistful at the edges. “The two of them were the closest I will believe of soulmates. Opposites in many things but united in their values, experiences and such. He loved my Dora a lot, truly, but him and Sirius were like a house on fire.

“Even to an onlooker, they made an interesting pair. Where James and Sirius were the obvious duo, Remus and Sirius had a different dynamic built on very similar behaviours. Both stubborn, loyal to a fault, smart; even the childhood they experienced was riddled with guilt, shame, trauma. And where you could tell how much of a brother James was to Sirius, Remus meant to him very differently, and it showed.”

Harry had polished off his tea. “They deserved a happier ending…”

“Life owed them at least that,” Andromeda agreed sadly.

“Maybe they will meet again. The cycle of intertwined lives never end when two people are in love,” Draco leaned against Harry’s shoulder, unaware.

Teddy prayed silently that wherever his father was, he had gotten to meet his friends again. He hoped Sirius and Remus would get another chance at experiencing life together.

The dog star shone bright, in the night sky, beside the moon.

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sweetchcolate · 4 months

Note

I LOVE your posts about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and just read your fanfic about Rafael visiting a pregnant Ann and loved it! I hope you write more fanfics on Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and can I request you write about Ann and Shall's wedding. IT WOULD FILL ME WISH SO MUCH JOY THAT YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE!

fandom: sugar apple fairy tale words: 5677 title: wedding prep shenanigans summary: A humorous glimpse into the weeks leading up to Anne and Shall’s wedding as their friends and guests show up one after the other.

also available on ao3!

A/N: Hiya, this ask is from late august/early september, so thank you for waiting all this time!

It's more on the funny/gen side since my last fic (spillover) was 100% pure fluff, but there was no way I could write about Anne and Shall's wedding without involving all the friends the two made over their adventures.

Thank you for waiting! I hope it was worth it!

As a heads-up, there are some spoilers for events in future LN volumes in Keith's section. It starts when he says "Ah, I was thinking out loud…" and ends when you read "It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy."

(And the changes of spelling between Cat and Kat are on purpose, depending on who talks to him. When it's Cat, it's because they're referencing the animal).

Despite the distance separating them, when Alph Hingley, Keith Powell, Hugh Mercury, Bridget Page, Elliot Collins, and the many other friends Anne and Shall made over the years received a notice for the wedding ceremony of a certain sugar master and an obsidian fairy, they all shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

Followed immediately by: wait, if I received an invitation, then who’s planning this?

Bridget, with her fiancé Orland and her ex-fiancé Elliot in tow, was the first one to arrive, of course. She greeted Anne with a warm hug, gave a solemn nod to Shall fen Shall and Mythril Lid Pod, and went straight to the crux of things.

“The wedding is only weeks away! Do you have everything planned?”

“Yes.

“Your dress?”

“Almost done. The seamstress wanted to see me one or two more times to make the final adjustments.”

“And Shall’s outfit?”

“All set!”

“What about the reception?”

“Right next to the church. The head priest and the mayor said they’d lend us tables and chairs so we could eat and party outside.”

“And how many people are you expecting? Do you have a guest list?”

Anne handed over the list, which Bridget briefly skimmed through. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Who’s in the charge of the catering? Oh, and what about the sugar confection? Did you order one? Who did you ask?”

“A-about that…”

“She was planning of making her own,” Shall said, his first intervention since Bridget started grilling Anne over the details. He hadn’t looked up once from whatever he was sewing, but it was obvious he’d kept up with the conversation. “She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Shall!” Anne cried, betrayed.

Elliot frowned. He threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders, drawing her to him. He ruffled her hair.

“That won’t do, Anne. Do you know how many people would die to make your wedding sugar sculpture? Just think of it: Hingley, Powell, Mercury, Nadir, Valentine, King, Orland, Bridget—"

“Why did you cite me last, Elliot?”

“— and of course, saving the best for last: good old me. The silver sugar viscount and the best sugar masters of this generation at your beck and call. Soooo, who’s going to be the lucky sod?”

“Can’t I pick myself?”

“Ah ah,” Elliot tutted, wagging a finger. “No, no, no. Don’t you know it’s bad luck?”

“You guys should all make a sugar confection, and then we can choose a winner on the wedding day!” Mythril piped up.

“We? I wasn’t aware this was your wedding, Mythril Lid Pod,” Shall added.

“Ugh, you know what I meant!”

“Yes. You meant to stuff yourself full of silver sugar.”

“I’m going to gnaw on your wedding tunic.”

“No you won’t!” Bridget cut in. “Do you know how expensive those clothes are? Oh! I almost forgot! What about cosmetics? And your hair?”

Anne blanched, and that was an answer in and of itself.

“Anne, I can’t believe you! Come on, we’re going to Lewiston right now!”

“B-but the wedding isn’t for another mont—”

Shall, Mythril, Elliot, and Orland watched the blonde woman drag her friend. They were all quiet. Elliot made the prayer sign one would for the deceased.

Orland smacked him. To Shall, he said: “Aren’t you going to help Anne out? She’s your fiancée.”

“And she’s being dragged around by your fiancée,” Shall retorted. The implication was clear: if you’re not going to stop her, don’t expect me to.

“Hm.”

No one pointed out that the obsidian fairy, a one-man army of his own, could easily have prevented the women from leaving if he was so inclined. Keyword being ‘inclined”. No one could convince Shall (or Bridget for that matter) to do anything they didn’t want to unless you were called Anne Halford.

Mythril repeated the gesture Elliot made moments earlier.

“Yo.”

“Kat!”

Anne’s face positively lit up, shrieking when the older sugar master lifted her up in a bear hug. The gesture might be uncharacteristic coming from him, but hey, it wasn’t every day that his apprentice-figure was getting married. She deserved the rare show of affection.

“Hiya Anne,” Benjamin said once she was back on the ground. He was as cool and relaxed as ever. “Congratulations on the wedding~”

“Thank you, Benjamin! But it’s still two weeks away.”

“Oh good, we’re early~ The weather was just awful in Snowpoint, I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“It smells good in here, small stuff,” Kat said. “What’s cooking?”

“An apple pie! I wanted to make a big one for the wedding, so Bridget and I are trying to figure out the right proportions. Want to be our taste-tester?”

“I won’t say no to free food.”

He followed Anne, finding Bridget, Orland, and Elliot huddled around a stove. Or rather, it was more accurate to say Elliot was huddled around the stove. Orland was holding the hearth door open while Bridget put a knife to a delicious-smelling pie. The air was filled with the scent of clove and cinnamon.

“Oooo, Hingley. That’s a nostalgic face if I’ve seen one.”

“Why am I not surprised to find you here, you freeloader.” Kat rolled his eyes. “Langston, Page. Congrats on your engagement again.”

“Thank you,” they answered in unison. Bridget added: “I think the pie is ready. Once it cools, we can eat.”

“Apple pie?” someone shouted from outside. “Wait for me! Don’t you dare eat without the great Mythril Lid Pod!”

It wasn’t long before Mythril showed up, perched on Shall’s shoulders. The two (or rather, the latter) had gone to chop some wood, the supply depleting faster with the addition of Bridget, Orland, and Elliot.

It was also a good way to keep the insatiable Mythril out of the way, lest he try to eat the apple pie dough raw.

“Oh, hi Kat! I thought I recognized your wagon outside! See, Shall fen Shall? I told you it was his!”

“Thank you for your wisdom,” Shall answered, more sarcasm than actual gratitude.

“Rude as ever, huh, Shall,” Kat said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Done hibernating, mister Cat? Glad you could make it to the wedding.”

“Hey, play nice.”

“No, no, let them, Anne.” Elliot snickered. “It’s free entertainment!”

“At least I’m doing something. You’re just lazing around, Collins.”

“Hey, hey. I’ll have you know I’m here on official Page workshop business.”

“Oh, really? And what is that?”

“We’ve got a wedding sugar confection for a very important client.”

“And where is that sugar confection? I only saw a regular carriage outside, not a crafter’s wagon.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still in my head!”

“You lazy ass—”

While Elliot and Kat bickered, Anne scooted over to Shall, helping him put the wood away.

“It sure has gotten more lively,” she whispered.

“Has it? I tuned them all out since day one.”

Anne shoved him slightly, but the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “Don’t tell Mythril Lid Pod, or we won’t hear the end of it.”

“Ha. I don’t think we’ll ever have trouble hearing him.”

She held her hands out to take another log. Shall took the opportunity to bring her hand to his mouth, using his body to hide the gesture from their friends. It wasn’t like he had trouble with displays of affections, but Anne and he could do without the teasing.

Especially Collins’s.

“Only two more weeks,” he murmured, voice pitched low, just enough to reach Anne’s ears. She felt every twist of his lips, every syllable pressed in her skin. In the low light, Shall’s eyes gleamed a beautiful dark amethyst.

She blushed, feeling warm, and squeezed his hand back with a shy smile.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before the shrimp eats your share of the pie,” Elliot interrupted with his oh-so-great timing. True to his words, Mythril’s cheeks were full, resembling a squirrel.

Shall and Anne exchanged a look, sharing similar thoughts. Those would be the longest two weeks of their lives.

“I wasn’t expecting everyone to be here already… I’m a bit embarrassed.”

“You’re right on time actually, Keith! Bridget came in early because she wanted to help with the wedding prep, and Elliot and Orland tagged along. And Kat left Snowpoint ahead of time because he didn’t want to be stuck if the roads got snowed in.”

“Still, if I had known, I would have pushed for mister Radcliffe to let me out much earlier.” Keith pointed to the back of his wagon with a hopeful smile. “I hope my sculpture will make it up to you. It’s one of the pieces I’m most proud of!”

“I’m looking forward to it! What did you make?”

“That’s a secret. I can’t have you spoiling your own wedding gift.”

Anne pouted. “Everybody’s so cagey! First, it’s Bridget kicking me out of the venue, then Elliot telling me I can’t go home because he and Orland are making my wedding candy on behalf of the Page workshop.”

“What about Shall? And mister Hingley?”

“They’re checking with the innkeeper if we have enough rooms for all the guests.”

So far, all five artisans and three fairies had piled up in Anne’s and Shall’s home, with Anne and Shall sharing the master bedroom, Bridget in the guest room, Elliot and Orland in the other, and Kat and Mythril sleeping downstairs in the living room. However, after the reception, Anne and Shall would want for intimacy on their wedding night, and so their friends needed somewhere else where to sleep.

“The two of them? Will they be alright?” Keith asked, referencing to Kat’s short temper and Shall’s ability to get a rise out just about anyone with pinpoint precision. The two men got along like… well… cat and dog.

“Mythril Lid Pod’s with them, but if I had known everyone would give me the boot, I would have gone with them,” Anne sighed.

“In that case, do you know what to do when something’s bothering you?”

“Run and leave it all behind, right?”

Keith blinked, but a pleased smile appeared on his face. “I’m surprised you remember that. It’s been so long ago.”

“Of course! I was under a lot of stress back then, you know? Your words were a big help, they really cheered me up.”

“Just my words?” he teased.

“You know what I mean!”

He laughed. “I’m glad I could help.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the flowers sway in the slight spring breeze. All the snow had already melted, and the land was slowly regaining its colors, waking up from a long deep sleep.

“To think you’re getting married…” Keith murmured under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Ah, I was thinking out loud…” He sighed. There was something wistful, but also peaceful about his smile. “Talking about the past got me feeling nostalgic. To think that back then, our biggest worry was whether we’d make silver sugar master.”

True. A lot happened in just a few short years: Anne and Shall’s abduction by his brother Rafael fen Rafael, Shall taking his responsibilities as a potential fairy king and bargaining with the human king to slowly give fairies back their autonomy, Rafael fen Rafael’s return, and Anne and Shall almost dying at his hands and paying the price of surviving such an ordeal with their memories (Anne of her painstakingly hard-earned sugar crafting skills, Shall of his meeting with Anne and all those she brought to his life)…

It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy, but their happy ending was finally within reach.

And not just Anne’s and Shall’s… everyone’s: Bridget and Orland were engaged and most likely the next to get married; Elliot had assumed the reigns of the workshop, taking the strain off Glen’s shoulders; the Page workshop was flourishing ever since the Holy Beginnings exhibit; Kat and Keith kept up their work as sugar masters, refining their skills and gaining in recognition.

Everyone was moving forward towards a bright future.

But a part of Anne missed the old days, a time where life was much simpler.

“This might sound silly, but I hope we all stay in touch. I… I don’t want us to drift apart,” she said, fighting to get the words out of her tightening throat. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and bittersweetness.

“Of course.” Keith patted her on the back, kind and comforting, and the gesture almost made Anne lose her composure. She sniffed the tears back. “We can meet up for the Royal Fair, for the Holy Beginnings, for Valentine’s day… Your birthday’s on the sixth month, right? So that will be our summer reunion.”

“If we only gathered for my birthday, that’d be unfair.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s come up with our own summer holiday, then. That way, no one’s jealous.”

Anne laughed, shaky. “As long as I don’t have to come up with the name.”

“You can design incredible sugar sculptures to wow royalty, but you’re stumped by names?”

“Hey! I’m a silver sugar master, not a name master!”

He laughed. Keith kept on patting her back until she felt better. She was truly lucky to have such an attentive and thoughtful person as a friend.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

There was so much she wanted to thank him for, but she doubted she could ever convey the depths of her feelings, so Anne poured all her gratitude, her happiness, and her appreciation into two simple words: “Thank you.”

Keith wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. He whispered, barely a murmur on the wind, “Anytime.”

“Anne! Anne! Congratulations on the wedding!”

“Actually, it’s ‘congratulations on the engagement.’”

Noah ignored Valentine’s correction, clinging to Anne. “Can I see your dress?”

“Not today!” Anne laughed at the fairy’s pout. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it in two days.”

“But that’s too faaaaaaaar.”

“Noah.” It was Glen who spoke. The older man was on the edge of his seat, waiting for Anne and Noah to clear the way so he could get off the carriage. “If you’re that excited, why don’t you go check the church? That’s where the ceremony will be held.”

“Oh, in that case, could you tell Bridget, Orland, and Elliot that mister Glen is here?” Anne added.

“Will do!”

And just as quickly as he had latched onto Anne, Noah was off. Nadir and Valentine sputtered, giving Anne their regards before running after the fairy. Noah might be older than them both, but he was as innocent and carefree as a child.

“Mister Glen. You seem to be doing well.”

“I am. I feel much better these days.” Glen stood and Anne hovered nearby just in case, but the older man managed to make his way out of the carriage on his own. He regarded her warmly. “I believe you’ve grown. I don’t remember you being this tall.”

“I think you shrank, mister Glen,” King said. He waved at Anne. “Yo, thanks for the invitation. And congrats!”

“Thank you! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. You’re one of us, even if you don’t work for the workshop officially anymore,” Glen said. “If you had told us earlier, we could have organized you a grand wedding. But what’s done is done. Are you all set?”

“Yes! Bridget was a big help. I thought I had everything handled, but there was so much more left than I expected!”

“The missy planned her own wedding months ahead. She knows her stuff.”

“Before I forget. Here.” Glen handed Anne a leather pouch, heavy and thick. There was a tinkling sound when he moved it, almost like that of coins. “For you.”

“Wait, why are you giving this to me? Are you not staying?”

“Don’t look so alarmed. I wouldn’t miss your wedding like I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s. This is a long overdue payment.”

“For what?”

“For your time as our head artisan.”

Anne blinked. She had assumed that role years ago, her goal to retrieve Shall’s wing, then to fulfill her promise to revive the Page workshop. It had never been about money.

“Mister Glen, I can’t—”

“Can’t accept it? It’s rude to refuse a gift, you know?”

“Just take it, or he’ll just ask Noah to hide it so you can’t return it to us,” King said.

Anne sighed. All her friends said she was stubborn and impossible to sway once her mind was set, but they were as equally headstrong when they wanted to be.

“Thank you, mister Glen. I appreciate it.”

“Treat yourself, Anne.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s good manners to make use of the gifts you’re given. It shows your appreciation more than saying thanks ever will.”

She was working on that, on relying on her friends, on accepting their goodwill and affection (whether through money, gifts, food or kind words) without falling back on old habits of doing everything on her own.

“Then I’ll buy myself some strawberry cakes. I’ve been craving those for a while.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

Anne flopped around like a fish out of water, sleep eluding her. Shall sat up from the bedding they’d laid on the ground, next to the bed — he would have been more than happy sleeping with Anne, but she’d claimed it improper before the ceremony. His guess was that she was still shy with anything beyond hugs and kisses, but also didn’t want to risk Mythril finding them twined together which… fair enough — and leaned in, cheek against his palm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that. Too excited for tomorrow?”

“I… I kind of don’t want tomorrow to come.” Anne gasped and put her hands to her mouth, as if she realized how her words could be interpreted only after the fact. “Ah, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I…"

He let her talk. With her tendency to ramble, her true feelings would come spilling out sooner and later. And his patience was rewarded.

“I’m so happy, you know? The past few weeks were so fun, with everyone coming and staying over. I didn’t realize how long it’s been since we were all together. But once the wedding’s over, everyone will leave… we’ll all go back to living our own lives…” She sniffed, voice shaking. “I know it’s silly, but I miss everyone. I miss them even though they haven’t left.”

Shall was reminded of Hugh’s words, many years ago — words he knew true, but words he’d never forgiven the man for since they meant to separate him from Anne. “Humans get used to comfort so quickly, they forget how to go back to their old lives.”

They seemed to sum Anne’s feelings perfectly.

“The Page headquarters are a day of travel away from here, and Lewiston less than half a day. Cat also gave you his shop, but you know him. He’ll show up to check on you once in a while,” he told her, cupping her face. This caused Anne’s unshed tears to bead at the corners of her eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “Those you love and who love you will always be close to you, no matter the distance. But if the feeling gets too unbearable and you want to see them again, then let’s hit the road together.”

Anne’s smile was wobbly, but it was a start. He opened his arms, and she gladly went for a hug, burying her face against his chest as her shoulders shook quietly. He patted her hair, and she relaxed in his embrace after a while. She smelled nice and she was soft to hold.

“Thank you. I feel much better.”

“You should go to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you.”

“I know. It’s so unfair. Do you know how much more work I could get done otherwise?”

“You’d just throw yourself at silver sugar until you passed out from exhaustion. Which you have before.”

“What if it’s just an excuse so you’ll carry me to bed?”

Such underhanded schemes weren’t like Anne, but he humored her just the same. “Just ask me then. No need to go to such extremes.”

“Hey, you guys still awake? Is this a bad time?”

At Mythril’s voice, Anne scooted out of Shall’s laps, putting a respectable distance between them. She ignored the disgruntled expression on his face. “No, we were just talking. Did we wake you?”

“Nah, I wanted to check the moon. It’s overhead, which means it’s now officially your wedding day!” He sauntered over to them and held out two small boxes. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your gifts!”

Shall and Anne shared a look before taking the gifts. Shall’s was a pendant in the shape a golden full moon, the metal so polished it reflected his face. He glanced over to Anne. She had received the same thing.

“They’re matching necklaces!” Mythril exclaimed, taking his own out. “When we’re apart and you get lonely, just look at it and remember we’re all under the same sky, watching the same moon.”

Huh. Did he listen in on them or was it just an incredible coincidence? Then again, it was possible Mythril had picked up Anne’s underlying fears over the past weeks — he could be surprisingly perceptive.

Anne, whose emotions were already running high, was once again on the verge of tears, but she looked touched, rather than sad.

“Oh, Mythril…”

“H-hey, are you crying? Why are you crying? Do you hate it that much? Don’t cry, Anne, I’ll get you something else! S-shall fen Shall, help! Do something!”

“They’re tears of happiness, dummy.”

“Huh? Don’t be stupid, how can you cry from being happy?”

Anne shook her head with a small laugh, scooping the tiny fairy and bringing him close to her chest. She cupped one hand around his body and gently laid her cheek on the top of his head in the best approximation of a hug she could manage considering their size difference.

“Thank you so much, Mythril Lid Pod. I love it,” she whispered, overflowing with gratefulness.

He clutched at her front, cheeks pink and eyes downcast in embarrassment. “...you’re welcome.”

Anne set him down, wiping her eyes, and stood. “I just keep crying lately. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

Shall nodded. Mythril sat down on Shall’s pillow, playing with his necklace. It was quiet, if not for the occasional sniff coming from the small fairy. Shall didn’t comment on it.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?” Mythril said after a while.

“Hm?”

Another sniff, longer. “I think I get it. Happy tears.”

Shall snorted softly.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?”

“What?”

“Can I sleep on your pillow tonight?”

Looked like Anne wasn’t the only one hit with a bout of nostalgia and dreading separation.

It had been a while since they all slept in the same room. It was a necessity at first, born from the fact Anne barely had enough money to afford even a single room in inns. Even after she’d won the thousand cress prize in Philax, she kept her frugal ways.

It was only after the second royal fair, once Anne made sugar master and established her reputation, earning herself a commendable wage, that they started to rent extra beds or, on rare occasions, extra rooms.

And then everything went down the drain when Rafael fen Rafael returned, upheaving their normalcy. Once things had settled down, their new normal was for Mythril to sleep on his own while Shall kept watch over Anne, sitting in a chair or lying in nearby bedding.

This would be the first (and probably the last) time in months they would share a room.

“Fine.”

“Please, please, please! I promise I won’t make a peep! I’ll even— what did you say?”

Shall laid down, covering himself with his blanket. “Go to sleep, Mythril Lid Pod. It’s late.”

When Anne came back, she found Shall and Mythril lying side by side. The smaller fairy was sprawled out like a star, his eyes closed. Not wanting to be left out, she slipped in with them. Shall scooted backwards to give her more space.

“Good night, you two,” Anne said.

“G’night Anne… Shall fen Shhhh…”

It wasn’t long before the two were asleep. Shall adjusted the covers over them and watched over the two people most precious to him.

“Don’t!”

“You can’t!”

“Someone, stop him!”

“Easy for you to say!”

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Bridget asked, pulling away from where she was putting the final touches on Anne’s make-up. She frowned at the muffled screaming. The door to the dressing room shook and rattled, as if someone was leaning against it.

“Bridget, you gotta help us!” Elliot shouted from behind. “Lock the door!”

“What’s going on, Elliot?”

“Move aside,” Shall said. His voice might be muffled, but his annoyance was clear.

“I told you man; it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony!”

“That’s ridiculous. I should be able to see my wife whenever I want.”

“You’re not married yet, you dumbass. Show some patience.” It was Kat.

“Actually, they are. They signed the paperwork months ago.”

Mythril gasped, as if realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have.

Too late. It was like someone had sucked all the sound out. You could hear people’s breathing with how quiet it was.

“What?” pretty much everyone shouted in unison. Bridget turned to Anne, gaping, whereas Noah tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the fuss.

Anne would have buried her face in her hands if she didn’t risk ruining her make-up. Of course this would get brought up right before the ceremony and in front of all of their friends. Gathering the poofy skirt of her wedding dress, she made her way out of the dressing room, intent to explain the situation.

Instantly, six pairs of hands blocked Shall’s line of sight. The fairy huffed.

“When Shall and I looked for someone who could officiate our marriage, most of the priests we asked refused to.” Many of them had squirmed at the idea of a human and a fairy marrying, the result of decades, if not centuries, of subconsciously ingrained bias. “I told Hugh about this, and he said that as silver sugar viscount, he was authorized to oversee our marriage. So we signed the paperwork with him and Mythril as our witnesses.”

The silent was thick and heavy, everyone processing the information. It was Elliot who broke down first, bursting with laughter.

“That’s— that’s—” He could barely speak with how hard he was laughing. “Oh man, and you guys call me a schemer.”

“It wasn’t like we were trying to hide it!” Anne retorted, cheeks puffing. “It was just a formality.”

“Only you would call being married on paper ‘a formality.’”

“Because it is!”

“Sorry to break it you, kiddo, but that paperwork is as binding as any vow. As far as the kingdom’s concerned, you’ve been husband and wife for months now,” Hugh added with a smirk. He looked all too pleased and amused at Anne’s embarrassment. “Though I suppose if you asked Shall, he’d say it’s been even longer.”

The fairy crossed his arms, but didn’t deny Hugh’s claims. Anne was glad for the heavy layers on her face because she was sure her blush would have been as bright as the sun. She certainly felt as warm.

“You look very pretty, Anne,” Keith said, changing the subject. It triggered a flood of compliments from the other guests, their kind words overlapping.

“Yeah, you look great!”

“Beautiful.”

“Hey, where’s your veil?”

“I got it!”

“You’re all doing this on purpose,” Shall grumbled. He could easily have plowed through the crowd to check on Anne or moved aside the hands blocking his vision, but he had grown tolerant of his friends’ shenanigans.

Anne was filled with a surge of appreciation for her fiancé. He had come so far compared to when they first met.

“If you’re all ready, how about we proceed with the ceremony?” Glen said.

“Go on ahead, everyone. There’s something I want to say to Shall.”

Her friends looked at Anne, then back at Shall, uncertain.

“Shall, are your eyes closed?”

“They are.”

“There you have it. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Satisfied, they all filed down the hallway, headed for the altar, leaving Anne alone with Shall.

Given the opportunity, she took in her fiancé’s (husband’s) appearance. He had always been a beautiful man, with fair smooth skin, glossy dark hair, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. His striking features made people’s heads turn.

Some might find his wedding outfit simple — a long dark tunic over breeches, with jewel-patterned embroidery lining his shoulders, his sleeves, and his lapels — but in Anne’s opinion, it only made him more handsome, if that was even possible.

“So you’re allowed to stare all you want, but I can’t look at you?”

“Just a little longer. Once the ceremony starts, you can look.”

Anne grabbed and squeezed his hands, a small compensation for all his patience. His hands slowly traveled up her arms, her shoulders, and curled around her jaw, as if trying to perceive her through touch since his eyes weren’t allowed. Anne felt goosebumps at the feel of Shall’s strong and slender fingers on her bare skin.

“You better not shy away,” he breathed.

“I-I won’t.” Anne felt tongue-tied by their proximity. She felt like she was getting sucked in, but she resisted the urge to move in for a kiss — she wasn’t sure she’d find the strength of will to pull away. “Sorry about earlier. I forgot to tell you about that little tradition.”

“It’s fine. I waited years, I can wait a few more minutes.”

She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll be going first.”

She turned around, but was stopped in her tracks as arms wrapped around her waist, firm and unyielding. There was a puff of hot air on the back of her neck, and Anne’s whole body tensed when she felt a pair of lips on her skin. She squeaked as they moved up to behind her ear. Her legs trembled and her heart was pounding in her temples.

“S-Shall…”

“Tradition says I can’t look, not that I can’t touch or taste.”

Anne’s mouth was dry. She was frozen in surprise and excitement, but just as quickly as he had embraced her, Shall let her go. There was a satisfied and smug look on his face, even with his eyes closed.

“See you soon, my future wife.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, and basically sprinted out of there before Shall got more handsy and frayed her nerves. She met with Glen right outside the doors leading to the altar. He had offered to give her away, as she didn’t have any blood family, and Anne couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the role than a father himself.

“All set?”

She took a deep breath. Her heart was doing flip-flops in her chest and her hands were faintly shaking as she linked arms with Glen. “All set.”

He smiled at her, calm and reassuring. All their friends were seated and chatting with one another, but the second she stepped in, they turned to look at her. Elliot, Nadir and King hooted, Kat, Keith, and Valentine waved, Orland nodded and Bridget smiled at her, and Mythril jumped up and down in joy.

Anne waved as she passed each row of guests. She deliberately avoided looking at Shall, waiting for her at the altar. She knew whatever expression he made would make her weak in the knees.

Glen led her down the aisle, and she swapped his arm for Shall’s. She kept looking at her feet. It would be embarrassing to stumble and fall at this point.

Finally, once they stood in front of Hugh, their officiant, she allowed herself a glance at her fiancé (and on paper husband), immediately regretting and glad for her earlier choice.

She had been right. Shall was looking at her like she was the sun and he a sunflower. His eyes were intense, half-lidded and heady, and his strong features showed a fierce warmth and passion. She felt both like running away and wanting to stay in place to bask in such a rare expression.

“Alright everyone, I’ll be officiating this ceremony. I won’t bore you with a long speech,” Hugh said. The attendees got quiet, expectant. “Anne Halford, will you take Shall fen Shall for a husband?”

“I do.”

“Shall fen Shall, will you take Anne Halford for a wife? Will you love her from now on for better or for worse? In sickness and in health? In silver sugar obsession and in creative drought? In—”

Everyone snickered and even Anne giggled quietly. It was obvious Hugh was doing this to aggravate Shall, who bore the unnecessarily prolonged vows with admirable patience. Anne could tell when he tuned Hugh out, because he rolled his eyes and decided to look at her instead. They shared a smile, expressions soft with love, as they waited for Hugh’s speech to end.

“I do.”

“Good. Any objections from the guests?”

“None! You know there’s none!” Mythril yelled. “Hurry it up!”

“Then by the powers conferred to me as silver sugar viscount, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—”

Shall didn’t need to be told twice nor was he going to wait a second longer. In one swift move, he’d lifted Anne’s veil and leaned in to kiss his proper wife.

“—the bride. You know, it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.”

Cheers and shouts and clapping and confetti and flower petals burst all around them, swallowing Hugh’s friendly teasing. Not that Anne and Shall paid any mind to anything that wasn’t their spouse. They pulled back from their kiss, grinning, forehead and nose touching. Their happiness was obvious.

And just as all those weeks ago when they received the invitation, everyone shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

#sugar apple fairy tale #my fanfiction #shallanne #happy early new year and belated s.hall bday gift!#sweetchcolate's nonsense of the day #fanfiction

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sillygonk · 1 month

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Strings of Devotion [ao3]

summary: Samurai is rapidly gaining popularity, despite being relatively new to the industry. The group leader and vocalist, Johnny Silverhand, quickly became a heartthrob, furtherly increasing the band's reputation. But their path to money and fame can’t be too easy. Banzai Riot, another fresh Night City band, is gaining fans just as quickly as Samurai, and is led by an enigmatic girl known as "V". As both bands soar in popularity, their rivalry (or rather rivalry between the leaders) escalates, fueled by a one-of-a-kind opportunity – Battle of the Bands competition with a three-year contract from Universal Recording as the grand prize. Will they jump down each other's throats first chance they get, or will they find a common ground amidst their shared journey to success?

pairing: Johnny Silverhand/V

word count: 4,4k

Chapter II ->

Chapter I – Get in gonk, we’re going to get famous!

In the waking world, where reality's gleam, I long for the man from my nightly dream. When I try to reach, he fades from my sight, Leaving me alone in the quiet night.

In the first rays of light I whisper his name, But he's vanished, like…

Like, uh… Like…

Fuck.

“Writer's block again?”

V stopped scribbling and looked up at Raf from her notebook. “Yeah,” she ran a hand through her ruffled hair. “I… It's just, like, my brain is playing hide-and-seek and I’m losing every fucking round. Fucking pisses me off.”

She tried to break through that creative barrier for the past hour, while ignoring both the loud music playing in the background and the lively banter of her bandmates gathered around their favorite booth at El Coyote Cojo. This rickety old thing had seen it all and was marked by years of their spilled drinks, drumstick banging and even jack-knife carvings on the tabletop, for which they got an earful from Pepe couple years back.

V was mindlessly running her fingers along the gashes, cursing under her breath. Seeing her frustration, Raf sighed heavily into his beer and took a sip. “I think you just need to chill, you know? Take it easy. Clear your head.”

“Ooor, you know,” Nova smirked. ”Fuck what he said and let’s start a good ol’ bar brawl and see where the night takes us. That will give you some inspiration.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I need another fucking charges on my record,” V snorted, looking into her friend's pink optics. “Plus, Mamá would kill me if I blew up in her bar again.”

“I’m not saying here. I‘m saying, like, in general.”

“Maybe don’t say anything else, how ‘bout that?” Raf sighed again.

V just rolled her eyes at them. Like fire and water, Nova and Raf were total opposites. Nova thrived on chaos. She was beautiful, loud, and was always drawing attention wherever she went. Even though she was a big softie on the inside, Nova had an unapologetic attitude and was a force to be reckoned with. Raf on the other hand was the epitome of calm and collected for most of the time, but behind his composed exterior hid a batshit crazy madness. Sometimes, when his rational façade would crack, he’d dive headfirst into the unknown just for the giggles. He was also, as the only guy in the band, just a baby.

She equally loved and hated them sometimes.

“What about that new track you've been working on, V?” Misty chimed in and started humming. “The one with the killer riff?”

“Ah, that one,” V sipped her beer. "Well, I have a track with no lyrics. Nothing we will make outta this.”

“We can say it’s a ballad and call it a day.”

A drink almost flowed out of V’s nose when she snorted.

“Yea, I don’t think that would be enough, Mist.”

Nothing was ever enough anymore, it sometimes seemed. Ever since they started taking music seriously, nothing had been the same.

At first, it had all been just for fun – they had been just a pack of raggedy teens who tried to find a way to blow off some steam in a safer way then jumping into gang life or ending up as dorphers. It started in abandoned garages or basements with klepped equipment and no skills. Their learning stage had been laughable at best, but it was better than wandering the streets looking for trouble. They honed their skills, at first getting somewhat good and then better and better each day. They began to realize that their music held a power beyond mere entertainment. It was their way to escape the reality for a while. It even became a lifeline in the darkest of times.

Then, slowly but surely, a shy idea rooted in their minds that maybe, just maybe, they could turn their passion into something more. Sometimes they dared to dream of a future where music was not just a hobby, but a way of life.

In the beginning they ignored these silly dreams, thinking they were too big for their own good. However, over time, they managed to convince one or two owners of second-rate pubs to let them play here and there. Then they even got the courage to ask Mamá Welles if they could play at the Coyote and to their delight, she agreed right away. “I thought you'd never ask,” she even said. To their even bigger delight, after their little gig, she told them that they should think of it more seriously. And that was it. For the first time they really thought the idea through and made their decision.

The legends of this city.

And now, here they were, stuck in one place, trapped in the shadows of their own ambition. They still had almost no name, no money, and in their minds, no prospects in a city where everyone wants to be a legend. They were getting somewhat recognizable locally, but it was too little and too slow. They all knew that their path to a breakthrough would be rocky, but come on. Not that rocky.

Still, they were refusing to let their dreams die. They may have been naive back then, when they made that decision, but now? Now they knew that they were meant for something more. They may not have been the most fortunate, but they had their passion, their perseverance, and, most importantly, the unbreakable bond that held them together. Which was cringe if V thought about it long enough, but she wasn’t one to denied it.

And as V reflected on those formative years, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the innocent teens with stars in their eyes. They persisted despite the hardships, living hand-to-mouth, with empty pockets but unbroken spirits. They poured their hearts into every chord, every lyric, clinging to the hope that someday, their determination would pay off. They just needed to do better and be better. Better than anyone else.

So no, V didn’t think that leaving their song at “ballad” stage would be enough.

“Alright, V,” Raf placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “Show me the stuff.”

“It’s not finished,” V stated, trying to hide her notebook away.

“And it will never be finished if you’ll keep gatekeep us, you gonk.”

This time it was V who sighed. Even though Raf was (usually) right, she would never admit it out loud. Fucking smartass. She handed him her notebook.

As Raf flipped through the pages, he nodded or shook his head while reading her never finished lyrics. V was on the edge of her seat, waiting for his take. When he finally got to the latest part, he laughed.

“The man from my nightly dream? Who the fuck you writing about?”

“Not your fucking business, that’s who,” V scowled, snatching the notebook from his hands.

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m saying it’s a bit corny.”

“Then you write something, funny guy,” V rolled her eyes. “You are all trash today, seriously. Maybe except Misty.”

She wasn’t going to count the silent one, Prime, as she was baked out of her mind in the corner of their booth, as usual, not bothering anyone.

“Why thank you,” Misty smiled. “And don’t listen to them. Writer's block is just another hurdle in the vast maze of creativity. Take a step back, breathe in the chaos of the world around you, and let it fuel your imagination. Night City wasn't built in a day, and neither is a masterpiece. Just trust your abilities, trust the process, and you'll be back in the zone before you know it.”

A small smile spread on V’s lips. Misty, always the sweetheart, was her forever favorite addition to the band.

“Thanks Mist. You’re seriously an angel.”

“I know,” she smiled sweetly. “Maybe I should give you a reading?”

“Eh, not today,” she drank rest of beer in one gulp. “You will pull out The Fool card and my mood will be ruined.”

“V, I told you hundred times now, The Fool card does not-“

“Yeah, yeah, it does not mean I’m the fool, I know. Still doesn’t make me feel any better when you pull it out every single time,” she murmured under her breath, suddenly irritated at the stupid card. Misty only giggled and pat V’s head.

“Is there any way to make your mood better then?”

“Yeah. I need another drink.”

As if on cue, Jackie appeared on the top of the stairs, walking towards their table with a tray full of beers, smiling widely.

“Hola fuckers. And Misty.”

“Jackie, my man!” Raf greeted him with a grin, sliding over to make room for him. “Finally missed us enough to crawl out of a studio?”

The man in question shot a quick glance at Misty and V tried to hide the smirk, though unsuccessfully, when she saw her friend blush.

“Maybe a bit,” he placed the tray on the table and sat next to Raf, stretching out on the bench. “But I come with big news and you’re going to lose your minds.”

“We’ll see. What do you have?” V nodded at him, already reaching out for a beer.

Jackie placed a flyer on the table. “A chance for you to finally make a name. Music contest.”

“Music contest?” Nova frowned and leaned in to take a better look at the brochure. “Like a talent show for kids at school?”

V silently agreed with the comparison. In her mind's eye, she couldn't shake the image of over-the-top judges acting like they know shit, fumbled mediocre performances and uninterested applause. They would most probably end up as some kind of puppets, doing mere sideshow for the amusement of others.

“Hey, don’t insult me, chica. I wouldn’t have come to you with this if it was not legit. This isn’t some dive bar competition, it’s an opportunity, a big one. And, it’s in Afterlife,” Jackie wiggled his eyebrows.

Afterlife? The Afterlife, a cornerstone of Night City's underground music scene? And, sure, mercenary work offered by first-rate fixers, or whatever, since lines between the criminal underworld and the artsy trades somehow got really blurry there, but dude. The music scene. Everyone who wanted to become someone dreamed about Afterlife. This was where real deals were made.

Well. V could re-consider being a puppet if it takes place in the Afterlife.

“So… It is legit?”

“Por supuesto. At least check it.”

Nova reached for the flyer with a heavy sigh and read it quickly. “Batlle of the Bands, yada yada, big opportunity for newbie bands- newbie? I ain’t a newbie, it’s you guys who are amateurs.”

“Just fucking read it Nova,” Raf grimaced.

“Fine, Christ. The competition will consist of presentation and three phases, yada yada yada, oh, OHH!” She exclaimed excitedly and sat on her knees. “The winner will sign a three-year contract with Universal Recording. Guys, Universal Recording! It really is legit!”

“What did I just say?” Jackie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. But seriously, we've been playing gigs at crappy joints for too long. This really could be our big break.”

“Where did you even heard about it, Jackie?” Misty frowned.

“Wakako tipped me off about it,” he shrugged. “Talked with her about you guys copula times, guess she thought it might help you. As soon as she got the detes she let me know. I’m actually surprised that you didn’t already knew about this. Wasn’t Dex supposed to take care of stuff like that? This is a huge deal.”

“Well, Dex is a shitty manager,” V scoffed. “Fucking unbelievable that your cares about us more than our own.”

V met Jackie’s manager a couple of times now. Wakako Okada was a fucking scary woman. Professional and polite, sure, always treating everyone with the same level of respect and courtesy, but she was also reading you like an open book, her piercing gaze seemed to see straight through your core, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. And yet, despite not knowing her very well (and low-key being scared of her), V couldn't help but feel a deep respect for Wakako. She was one of the best in the business, after all, and there was no denying that. If Wakako wasn’t representing solo artists exclusively, and only within the rap and hip-hop genre, V would gladly sell her kidney to afford hiring her. At least Jackie made the cut, and V was really happy that he was able to work with the woman. She let him spread his wings and he was currently recording his first album under her watchful eye. Lucky bastard.

“You seriously should take care of your own biz all the more,” the lucky bastard said.

Guess he was right. They couldn't really deny the allure of this whole shebang. After all, when opportunity like this is literally knocking at their door, they couldn't afford to lose it. Especially if they were left to their own devices. V glanced around at her bandmates with a flicker of hope and was met with excited smiles and silent nods. From all except one since Prime was still spaced out and didn’t say a word since they sat down at the table.

Prime. Always a woman of few words. It might have something to do with her always being stoned, but, as she always said, no one had any proof for that. And she was right, if her constantly bloodshot eyes and the smell of pot that clung to her clothes were not proof enough.

V nudged her lightly.

“Astra? You with us?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Prime blinked slowly, her gaze drifting lazily towards V. “Sup?”

“We have a situation,” V handed her a flyer. “Big shit, big chance. We might even score a record deal. What do you think, we’re in or we’re out?”

Astra took a minute to check out the brochure and nodded slowly. “Oh, hell yeah, we’re in.”

“Really?” V beamed.

“Yeah, dude. That sounds cool,” she focused on the flyer once again and her eyes widened. “Yooo, this in Afterlife? Are we finally hitting the big leagues or sum?”

“That’s the plan, babygirl,” Nova laughed at her stoned enthusiasm.

“Oh, hell yeah, that sound epic.”

“Aight,” V nodded. “Then we just need to get the application and-” she fell silent when she saw Jackie pull application card and a pen from his inside pocket. “The big man thought of everything I see. Thanks Jacks.”

“A sus órdenes, chica,” he saluted mockingly.

“Kay. Guess we’re really fucking doin’ it,” V started to filling up their application with a goofy grin. “Nova, you want to go with full name?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Badges don’t have anything on me anymore, I don’t give a shit.”

“Cool, cool,” V quickly finished putting in their detes. “Okay gonks, sign this up and I’m taking it to the Afterlife.”

“I'll tag along,” Raf quipped in, already signing the papers. “I should get going anyway, I have morning shift tomorrow, so I’ll at least keep you company for a while.”

V narrowed her eyes at him.

“You just want me to drive you home afterwards, don’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Fine.”

When the papers were signed and the beers were finished, everyone decided to go their separate ways. Raf wasn't the only one working in the morning after all. The booth cleared and the gang headed downstairs, empty glasses in hand, so that Pepe wouldn't have to clean up after them.

Finding an opportunity, V tugged on Jackies sleeve, pulling him away from the group.

“Will you ever ask her out, Jacks?” V smirked at the man.

Jackie stuttered, tips of his ears turning red at the question.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really? Well, that’s a shame,” she hummed. “Misty would be thrilled.”

“You think?” his eyes gleamed and V laughed.

“Yea, you gonk. You just need to finally grow your balls,” she punched him on the arm, which he most probably didn’t even felt.

Jackie’s gaze wandered to Misty again. He cleared his throat and nodded, but pushed V to the side when she laughed at him. They said their goodbyes to Pepe and went outside.

“I, uh, I’ll take Prime home,” Nova winked at V with a smirk, which she returned, silently acknowledging their shared mission.

“Right, we should be on our way too. Need to take this pretty girl home.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Raf batted his eyelashes.

“The prettiest.”

“Prettier than Nova?”

“I heard that!” Nova yelled, already a few steps ahead, tugging Astra along. “You kids be safe. See ya tomorrow.”

V laughed and waved at them, then pointed at Jackie. “See you soon, Jacks?”

“Obviously,” he smiled. “Still have some jobs bagged, waiting for us.”

“I sure hope so. We need to finish them before you’ll be too famous for that,” she hugged him tightly.

“Still have a lot of time,” he ruffled her hair.

With a quick wave to Misty, assuring her she will be home soon, V and Raf made their way to where V's motorcycle was parked nearby, trying to disappear quickly and leave the lovebirds alone. She swung a leg over the back of the bike.

“Hop on, babygirl,” she patted the seat. Raf sat down behind her, but not without rolling his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That’s like, what, twenty minute drive?”

“I’ll make it in fifteen,” V smirked and revved the engine.

They took off, making their way through the streets of Night City, wind whipping through their hair. V weaved through late-night traffic with ease, the scenery shifting from the gleaming towers of the corpo districts to the gritty urban sprawl of the combat zones, flickering streetlights flashing by in a blur. Though the journey was quick, V still sighed sadly when she checked the time after parking the bike in the dark alley. Seventeen minutes.

They made their way inside and paused briefly to explain to the security guy why they were here. He nodded in acknowledgment before directing them to the bartender. As they stepped further into the bar, V felt a thrill of excitement going down her spine. Just being here was enough for her to feel less stuck and more hopeful about their future. They reached the bar and she smiled at the woman.

“Hey.”

“Hi. What can I getcha?”

“Rather, what we can get you. Application for the Battle of the Bands,” Raf flashed his charming smile at the woman, while V pulled out their application.

“Alright kids,” she smirked and reach out. “Let me just check the papers real quick, can't ignore the drill.”

She took the application from V’s hand, took a moment to glance over it, her expression thoughtful. Then, with a nod of approval, she returned it to them.

“Looks good to me. Now I just need the entry fee and you’re good to go.”

“Entry fee?” Raf’s smile faded.

“Yup. There’s always a catch,” she tapped at the bottom of the papers. Both V and Raf looked down.

NOTE: entry fee – 3,500 ed

V huffed and rubbed at her eyebrow nervously. Nova and her fucking reading comprehension.

“Shit. Just… Just gimme a minute, okay? I need to make a call.”

“Who you callin’?” Raf frowned.

“Dex. We ain’t gonna pay from our own pocket, he’s the fucking manager, he need to manage,” she moved away from the bar and headed towards the exit.

“Whoa, wait then, I need to hear you chewing him out,” he laughed and winked at Claire. “We’ll be right back.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Claire chuckled and shook her head to herself as they made their way out. They were kinda adorable, she had to admit, with wide eyes but still exuding self-confidence. With a little smirk on her face, Claire got back to polishing the countertop as out of the corner of her eye she noticed a tall figure in leather jacket approaching the bar. She let out a resigned sigh.

“What now?”

“Those two that left, did I just saw them submitting an application?”

“Yup. Seems like they're gearing up to give you a run for your money."

“Lemme see their papers, huh?”

“You know I can’t do that, Johnny.”

“I know, but you have a soft spot for me,” he smiled sweetly.

“I do not.”

“And for me?” a second guy approached them.

“Don’t get involved, Kerry, you’re supposed to be the reasonable one.”

Kerry shrugged. “We’re just curious.”

When the woman rolled her eyes, Johnny whined.

“C’mooon, lemme see, I’ve been a good boy today.”

“The day hasn't ended yet,” she raised her eyebrow. He took it as a challenge.

“You poked the bear, Claire,” he snatched the documents before she could stop him.

"Johnny, I said no!" the woman exclaimed, her tone sharp with anger, but it was already too late. He quickly scrutinized the papers, narrowing his eyes, when he saw something he did not wanted to see.

Banzai Riot V – lead vocals, rhythm guitar Lara “Nova” Foster – lead guitar, vocals Rafael “Raf” Gupta – bass Misty Olszewski – violin Astra Prime – drums

“So?” Kerry urged him. “Who are they?”

Johnny clenched his jaw and showed him their info. Kerry glanced at it, his eyes getting wider.

“The fuckers from Banzai?”

“Apparently.”

He heard about them, of course he did. A new band on the rise, slowly gaining fans and momentum, just like Samurai. Making a name was already hard enough when you're fighting for it with no opponents, but when do you add another young and dynamic team to the race? One that is similar in style, on top of it? Nightmare. It was one thing to compete against other bands, but to go head-to-head with a group that was basically their mirror image was not fucking good. Johnny knew that in the cutthroat world of the music industry, standing out was crucial. But now, with those motherfuckers in the scene, it was going to be so much fucking harder to achieve.

Kerry’s voice got him out of his head.

“Shit, they're coming. Put it back!”

Johnny quickly put the papers back in their place and turned around, nonchalantly leaning on the left side of bar with his elbows, his back to those little fuckers. Kerry, similarly, looked the other way, but both of them strained their ears to get any details about their rivals. Claire rolled her eyes at them.

“Kay, can send you the eddies now,” said the girl rather happily, her eyes glowing with blue.

“Okay, got it. From… V?”

“Yep.”

Oh, so she is the leader. She most certainly didn’t look like one, Johnny thought, barely holding back a snort. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his lips instead, as he processed the newfound information. With long basketball shorts, ripped tank top and checked shirt tied around her waist she hardly looked the part of a rock star. She looked more like someone you'd find shooting hoops at the local court than leading a fucking hardrock band.

As Johnny's mind wandered, Claire's distant voice slowly pulled him back from his thoughts. He blinked, refocusing his attention on the scene unfolding behind his back.

"… your own equipment, ‘cause the sounding is on us. Other than that, you’re all set.”

“Thanks Claire,” he heard the guy’s voice. “Appreciate it, really.”

“No prob. Guess we will see each other often over the next few weeks, so there will be an occasion to say it again, but still good luck.”

“Thanks,” the girl, V, said, and he could hear a smile in her voice. “See ya around, then.”

“See you,” Claire watched them go and when they were out of the earshot, she narrowed her eyes at Johnny and Kerry. “Enjoyed your eavesdropping?”

“Wasn’t even listening to that bubbly little bitch,” Johnny scoffed, turning around to face her again. “Can you fix me a drink?”

The bartender shook her head in disbelief but relented, reaching for a glass and a bottle of tequila. She poured him a new one, which he accepted with quick thanks and returned to his table, Kerry hot on his heels.

“That chick was their vocalist, did you gathered that?”

Kerry glanced at him, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? The fuck you mean?”

“I dunno, man,” Kerry shrugged, his gaze wandering back to the direction where their competition disappeared. “Was more focused on checking out the guy she was with.”

“Dumbass,” Johnny groaned. “Well, while you were busy checkin’ out the gonk, I was busy listenin’. Turns out, that chick is the one callin’ the shots."

Kerry's eyes widened in surprise, his attention finally fully focused on Johnny's words. "Seriously?” When he was met with Johnny’s uh-huh, he hummed. “Damn, she sure is unobtrusive,” he thought in silence for a while, but couldn’t suppress a twinge of doubt gnawing at his gut. His brow furrowed with worry. “Think we should be worried?”

"Please, they've got nothing on us. We've got this in the bag," Johnny said, downing his Tequila Old Fashioned.

Sure. They had it in the bag. One hundred percent.

Or, if he was really honest with himself, ninety nine percent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They stepped out of the bar, their laughter echoed through the dark alley as they made their way back to V’s bike. Raf grinned, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Can you fucking believe it? We have a fucking golden ticket to the Major Leagues!”

“I know,” V smiled, fishing a cigarette from her back pocket. She lit it with a flick of her lighter and took a long drag. “And call me fucking crazy, but I think we stand a chance.”

“Are you kidding? We've got this in the bag, V!”

She smiled at his enthusiasm. He was right. He was fucking right, they could totally score this. All they needed was determination, which they had, confidence, which they had, and a talent, which they obviously also had.

A bit of luck would be also welcome, but to the hell with it – they were working hard for the success and they will succeed. Right now, they just needed to focus, work hard and show all them gonks something good. Something memorable and spectacular. Something…

“Aww, shit.”

“What?”

“Now I really need to think of a new song.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #fem v #silverv #au #alternate universe #cp2077 #cyberpunk fanfic #slow burn #enemies to lovers #original characters

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