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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 1

***This...This is glorious. Oh ho, I will most definitely give you this fic @millenniumofpain! I will do so gladly! Thanks for sending in this great request!***

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Part Two: HERE, Part Three: HERE, Part Four: HERE

You growled to yourself, angrily wiping tears from your face, as you marched away from the House of Lamentation, away from your partners.

Well, you said marching. It was more of a stumble what with the way your intoxicated brain could barely walk forward. You wished you could say you didn't know how things got like this, but the evidence had been there all along. It was in the slow build of tensions that increased and increased until they overflowed. It was in the way everyone would bite their tongues more and more frequently rather than communicating their thoughts.

Everyone had little things about the relationship between the eight of you that bothered them, and no one said a word until the words could no longer be held back.

It all started after you came back from clubbing way past curfew with Asmodeus.

The two of you were definitely drunk and were giggling messes as you did your best to hold the other up.

You both jumped when the hallway light turned on to reveal Lucifer and the others waiting there for you.

You bit back a sob as you thought of the vicious words that came out of their mouths.

"You're so reckless! Do you know what could've happened to a human like you this late at night in this state?! For Diavolo's sake MC, I expected this behaviour from Asmodeus, but I expected more from you!" Lucifer shouted Asmodeus groaned and leaned against you. "We were just having some fun. It's my date night. Don't get your wings in a twist." Beelzebub glared at him. "Just because it's your date night with MC doesn't excuse you putting them in danger. You couldn't even defend yourself right now, forget about defending them!" You frowned and stepped forward. "Guys relax. Nothing happened." Mammon scoffed, "That's always how it is with you! You think that just because nothin' has happened to ya that it's fine. You ain't invincible MC. Gah, it's like you're just throwin' ya self into dangerous situations just to get us to come to save ya again!" Satan raised an eyebrow at Mammon's comments and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that's what they want. Attention. Is that the real reason why you keep being so reckless?" he tsks and scowls at you, "If you wanted attention MC you could've asked one of your seven boyfriends." You looked at them all with wide eyes. "Wha- I do NOT do all of this for attention!" Levi snarled, "Then why do you do it? Huh? Why else would you get drunk in one of the most notorious clubs in the Devildom? Why else would you date all seven of the Lords of the Devildom?" You stepped back as though you had been slapped by Levi's words. You glanced around at the others, but no one rose to your defence. You met Belphie's gaze hoping, that maybe as the only one to have not spoken up, that he'd be on your side. He just snickered and gave you a perplexed look. "What? Don't expect me to step in. You got yourself in this mess." You stood shocked and hurt; almost unwilling to believe that your partners, the people who you thought loved you unconditionally, verbally attacked you. Anger bubbled and boiled inside of you until you couldn't contain it anymore. "If you guys have such a problem with it, then maybe I won't depend on you anymore! I'm reckless, yeah, I admit, but I never did it for attention and I certainly never put myself in danger just so you all could play the hero," you turned your anger to Leviathan, "And in case you forgot, you all agreed to date me! I thought it was because you all loved me as much as I loved you but apparently fucking not! So if you don't mind, I'm going to leave now like the attention-driven child that you all think I am!"

Not your classiest moment, but you didn't care. It was clear you weren't wanted at the time, and you were too tired to handle the brutal words that they were throwing at you. So you left. Which brought you here, stumbling your way towards Purgatory Hall, drunk, and sobbing as you shivered from the cold Devildom air. You could just see the shape of the Hall ahead of you when you suddenly tripped and found yourself tumbling to the ground. You winced as you felt your knees and hands scrape against the ground. You groaned and turned yourself over to inspect the injuries. "Just when the night couldn't get any worse," "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" You stiffened as three demons came out of the woods around you and began circling you like vultures about to swoop in on their prey. The tallest one snickered. "Looks like the Lords' little pet strayed too far from its masters. Lucky us~"

A shorter, rounder one smiled sharply as drool trickled from its mouth. "Their loss, our gain," it leaned forward and inhaled deeply before sighing in pleasure. "Oh, get a whiff of that fear~ Just, delicious! Do you think it's true when they say that human tears really do add seasoning to its meat?" You tried to scramble away from it, as your heart pounded in your chest, but yelped as your back bumped against a curvier one. Its long nails dug into your shoulders as it secured its hands near your neck. "Only one way to find out." You were in trouble. These demons clearly had no intention of letting you go. You needed to get out of there before it was too late. You jammed the heel of your palms against the back of the wrists of the demon that holding you down, while you leaned backwards away from it. You were able to get just enough slack to roll away from the demon before jumping back to your feet. You were still surrounded, but at least now you weren't defenceless on the ground. Progress.

You did your best snarl, one that you and Mammon had jokingly practiced together one day, and glared fiercely at them. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with? I could have you all killed with just a snap of my fingers. You have one chance to run away, or I promise you that no one will ever be able to find your sorry corpses."

The tall one laughed and smirked at you. "And what exactly are you going to do? Scratch us with your blunt little nails? Bite us with your flat teeth?" The round one perked and began to hop excitedly. "Oh! Oh! Maybe they'll summon the lords to do it for them! Such a pathetic thing doesn't stand a chance on its own."

The curvy one wore a sickening grin as it leaned down mockingly at you. "So, you gonna call your guard dogs or what?"

You froze. You couldn't summon the brothers. Technically, you could, but not at this moment. Not after that fight. They had basically screamed at you about how they were tired of you getting yourself into situations exactly like this and then come crying to them for help. And what did you do? Take off and prove them right. They didn't want to be your heroes. They didn't want you.

You were on your own in this, and there was no way you could fight and win. Without a second thought, you turned towards Purgatory Hall and ran. The laughter of the demons rang behind menacingly. You barely got five steps away before a set of claws slashed deep into your ankle. You screamed out as you collapsed roughly to the ground, making your forehead against the dirt road.

You twisted onto your side to see the round demon drooling over your heavily bleeding leg with a nearly psychotic expression. "I love it when they try to run." That was the only warning you got before it sunk its razor-sharp teeth into your calf. You wailed loudly in pain as you used your other foot to try and kick the demon off of you, but it wasn't so willing to let go of its meal. The tall one grabbed your arm, bending you foreword as it roughly folded it behind your back. You cried out as you felt your shoulder pop out of its socket and nausea swirl in your stomach. "Not so tough now, are you?" It purred in your ear as it licked the tears off of your cheeks. You choked on your sobs as it roughly bit into the flesh on your collar, and weakly struggled in its grasp. "Let go of me! H-Help! Somebody! Help me!"

The curvy one finally approached you, burying its fingers into your hair before harshly yanking your head towards it. You screamed before it slapped its clawed hand across your face. Bile threatened to rise out of your throat as you felt your own blood drip down your cheek.

Spots began to blur your vision as the demon leered down at you with its menacing eyes. You felt your stomach drop as a realization hit you. This was how you would die.

You whimpered as you thought of the brothers, and how you never got to even kiss them or tell them goodbye one final time. Hell, you didn't even get to see them smile at you. Instead, you were reminded that you could never be what they needed you to be.

You would die scared, in pain, and unloved.

The curvy demon laughed as it wrapped its hands around your throat. You struggled to breathe and whined as, for just a moment, you saw Belphegore choking you to death once more, and not this monster. You morbidly thought that it was only fitting for you to be killed the same way twice. The demon leaned closer to you, demanding that you meet its un-naturally yellow eyes as it smiled. "You realize it now don't you? That this is your death bed? That no one is coming for the pathetic little human. I bet no one would even-" Before it could finish its sentence a blindingly bright beam burst across the side of its face sending it flying across the ground. You could hear the other demon curse and began to take off as two voices shouted and more bright flashes were sent in their direction. As your vision began to fade, you saw tear-filled, innocent blue eyes look down at you and a small mouth framed by chubby cheeks try to speak. But it was too late. With a final whine, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull and your mind plummet into darkness. ***This request is just evil and I love it. There will be a part two. So stay tuned for more pain. Hope you enjoyed it @millenniumofpain! Thank you for allowing me to write this!!***

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shushiyuii · 3 years

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Ok I really been wanting to see Giant dream and Tiny Tommy vore fluff. Just some fluff and noms. Ans Maybe another where it is Giant Dream and Tiny SBI Fluff and noms also. It is wired I am sorry. Saw you asking for requests.

I did the first one! (Also sorry for the lack of uploads today, been really busy.)

Warnings: Soft vore, mention of rough past, slight dehumanization?

Words: 1.4K+

The god and The Strange Boy

The temperature of the room was almost unimaginable, he had no idea how he had coped with it for so long within that prison, the now outside fresh air feeling foreign, cold. It was a strange sensation, but a welcome one.

He wondered how everybody was doing, how things had changed within his time within the prison. In his opinion it was an unfair sentence, it wasn’t his fault how things had changed within the SMP, it wasn’t him that should’ve been held responsible.

It should’ve been them.

He remembered how he’d get visited by him in the prison, he was almost scared. Asking for advice on what to do, he wanted so badly to hold him close to his chest and comfort him, but the prison’s containment prevented him from doing so.

At first, the exile. He hated him, wanted to kill him. But, in his exile he came to understand the boy and his beginnings, the boy had opened up to him, so he comforted him and even opened up himself.

Dream didn’t have a good past, he was known as a monster back in the day, he’d changed when he met Sapnap and George but reverted to his old ways somewhat when the whole L’manburg started happening.

But this boy. Tommy. He thought the boy acted on selfish decisions, was arrogant or worse but that wasn’t the actual Tommy. To some extent, yes but if you really knew him as Ranboo or Tubbo did. He was definitely someone else.

Whenever you see this side of Tommy, it’s mainly a defence mechanism. Because the boy had a rough past himself. One that neither found family knew of, Tubbo and Ranboo only knew parts of this past. But to say the boy had it rough, he really did.

He wasn’t sure why Tommy ran away from exile; he was there for the boy. He thought maybe he scared him. Or the loneliness? Whatever it was he didn’t know but in the meantime, he wanted L’manburg gone. So he teamed up with two others are known as Philza and Technoblade to destroy it.

In the remains of L’manburg, that’s where he saw the boy again. Looking betrayed but all of them. When in reality, all they wanted to do was protect him. Dream, as much as this ancient god didn’t want to admit but, he saw this kid as his own.

Afterwards, Techno and Phil returned to their home in the Antarctic, being the blood god and the angel of death. They had similar titles as Dream. But as for Dream, he was punished by other’s, held in prison to what many saw as home.

He hated the place but put up with it with the visits of Tommy, he had apologised for running and began to talk to Dream how he used to.

Tommy was in no way a god, he was mortal. Small compared to many others. He was a mortal adopted by the gods, taken in to be one of their own.

When in reality, he was left to survive as a plaything for these gods.

Dream saw him as no such thing, and as much as Techno and Phil hated to admit it they cared for the boy as well. Despite not being there as much for him as Dream. They had a reputation to maintain.

Now, with his newfound freedom, he was looking for his brother. It had been a while since his last visit, and he had no clue where the boy had gone.

He looked and looked, no one had a clue as to where Tommy’s current location was. It was just known he wasn’t at his dirt hole as much as he once was.

He questioned everyone he came across; he didn’t find anything suspicious until…

Until he ran into the God of bees and the God of portals. Ranboo and Tubbo.

When asked, they acted suspiciously different, as if they were trying to hide something from them.

And he was correct, when followed he found that these gods had founded a new place to call home, one off the knowledge of others. Much like the Antarctic. It was called Snowchester.

The three had founded a mortal son that they wished to hide. And with it, Tommy was there. He found him.

Tommy pulled on leaves about twice his size, trying to uproot what seemed to be potatoes in the cold winter snow. “Tommy?”, he asked whilst standing beside a nearby tree.

The boy jumped out of his mind for a moment before turning to Dream, “DREAMM! MY MANN! Wassup?!”. He said enthusiastically but Dream could see that he had frightened him.

He laughed and smiled, then approaching the boy. “I’m good, out of prison now. I’ve seen you’ve been doing good with yourself”. Dream then held out his hand to the floor, allowing Tommy to stand on as he sat down near the tree.

“Yeah, been working where I can and stuff, sorry bout not visiting”, “It’s fine Tommy”. “How’d you even find me anyways?”. “Followed Tubbo and stuff”.

“They’re gonna be pissed!”. Tommy laughed, “They won’t be, not when they realise, I mean no harm”. “That may be the case with Ranboo, not so much Tubbo, he’s not only the God of Bees y’know”.

Dream nodded in understanding. And then there was a moment of peace between the two, “It’s weird honestly?”, Tommy looked up at Dream. “How we both get along? Don’t you find it odd?”.

“Well Dream, I’m pretty sure it’s because of how great I am! I am Tommyinnit after all!”. Dream smirked from under his mask and put a fingertip to Tommy’s hair and ruffled it playfully.

Tommy’s expression turned from happy to silent grief as he looked away from Dream, “Hey Dream?”, “Yes, Tommy?”, “Am I ever going to be able to go home?”.

A thing about the god realm is that if humans were to cross the barrier, they’d never be able to return. They’d be at the mercy of the gods.

Dream looked down at Tommy and moved his finger to gently rub the boy’s back, making the answer clear. He’d been told it many a time, but he knew the boy couldn’t help but cling onto hope of going home. He couldn’t blame him.

The two sat in the comforting silence for a while longer, until the cold winds started to pick up, it didn’t affect himself, but it did affect Tommy. The boy was shivering now with no shelter for him nearby. He’d freeze soon enough.

Tommy looked up to Dream, seeming to know the plan already. Dream moved Tommy to his lap as he used his hands to unclip his mask, when the mask was removed it revealed a scarred face with his eyes black with glowing green pupils. A sight nobody usually saw.

He then picked up Tommy and brought the boy closer towards his face, where he breathed and covered the boy in warmth, Tommy clung to him. He opened his mouth to reveal a multitude of sharp fangs.

But that didn’t stop Tommy from stepping in himself, Dream using his tongue to make sure the boy didn’t trip or anything, once Tommy was safely in his mouth, he closed it. And moved his tongue to taste at Tommy.

He purred slightly as he felt the taste of Strawberries and a mix of other things, Tommy laughing every time he and the tongue crossed paths.

Once he deemed the boy ready for decent, he titled his head back and swallowed.

He traced the boy’s descent with his finger, and slowly felt Tommy drop into his stomach, safely tucked away. He rubbed there for a moment, feeling Tommy move and shift into a comfortable position.

He signed in relief when he felt the boy tiredly put his hands to rub at the stomach walls and fall asleep. He must’ve been tired from all the work he’d be doing.

He began the journey of finding a place for the night but was stopped when he heard the yell of his name. “DREAM!”.

He turned and saw the god of Explosives, Tubbo. Who seemed ready to explode and a slightly angry Ranboo, he seemed conflicted about something? He drew out his sword for a fight.

Later, they were all sitting by the fireplace, covered in injuries. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”, Tubbo spoke in a sassy way as he sipped on his tea. Dream had a hand covering his stomach as he looked to Tubbo, “Well, it doesn’t matter now. You all are now under my protection.”.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #tw vore #giant!dream #giant!ranboo #giant!phil #giant!techno #giant!tubbo #tiny!tommy #shushi's writings

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weasleydream · 3 years

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unfairness

here it is, my participation to @omgrachwrites writing challenge! once again, congrats for 1k love, so happy for you!!

the prompts were “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” ; “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Do it then.” and “This is all in my head. It’s all happening in my head.”

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

TW: the end can be a bit violent

masterlist

We had realized our relationship wasn’t as bright as we had thought when an umpteenth rumor about us had spread between Hogwarts’ walls, at some point during our sixth year of school. It wasn’t the first, far from that, but it was definitely the worst because it also involved this Ravenclaw guy whose name was still unknown to me at the time. As far as I could tell, there had always been jealous girls that had tried to get Fred to dump me, and plenty of boys that wanted to convince me that they had more to offer than the Weasley boy. The only difference with this rumor was that Fred kinda despised said Ravenclaw boy because of a Quidditch match the year before, and he had turned his nervousness into a burst of anger I hadn’t anticipated. Problem is that, at the same time, I had heard Angelina telling Katie that Lee had told her that George had implied that Fred was seeing someone else, and just everything that had happened that year had gotten the best of me.

Our first break up had occurred a week after we had heard about these rumours, and during the rest of our sixth year and most of our seventh until now, we had ended our relationship twice more.

The worst in all of this was that I loved Fred. So fucking much. I loved him and I was ready to do anything for him, and I knew it was the same for him, but it was just not possible to keep a relationship as ours was. We didn’t have the same interests at all, Fred was obsessed with his shop project and me with the learning of defense against the dark arts (through Dumbledore’s army, of course). He was nonchalant and sometimes forgetful, I was fussy and very sensitive. When one of us was too busy, a date planned was quickly forgotten and the fight very likely to happen.

That’s why, as I was in my dorm trying to choose what to wear, the main question in my mind was to know if it was worth it. A few clothes were scattered on my bed, and two pairs of boots were thrown on the floor. It had been almost half an hour and I only had twenty minutes left before having to join Fred who would probably be waiting for me in the common room. I had hoped this little preparation session would help me ease my terrible mood but it seemed that it was a fail. Finally opting for comfortable jeans and one of Fred’s sweaters - even though we were almost in June, the week had been a bit cold - I spent the rest of my time reading again some transfiguration notes. I headed downstairs exactly twenty minutes later only to find the common room completely empty.

“Of course…” I muttered.

As soon as the portrait opened, the noise in the corridors broke the silence I had been plunged in for an hour. Some people were talking about the coming exams, others about the next class they would have. Not once did I hear my name in a conversation, which had become quite rare with the time. I had learned the hard way that people always had something to say about my relationship with Fred, and if there wasn’t any tasty gossip, then inventing one wasn’t a problem.

I found Fred in the great hall, sitting with George, Ron and Harry. They were all talking about something that had to be classified as a defence secret considering how they suddenly became interested in everything that wasn’t me. Ron and Harry turned to Hermione, who was sitting at the table behind them, and George patted Fred’s shoulder before nodding at me and leaving without a word. It was usual, this taciturn behaviour George had when I was here; we had never gotten along that well, and if I was being honest, it was probably another problem between Fred and I.

We headed outside and took the road to Hogsmeade. We were walking next to each other, our hands brushing every now and then without ever really touching. The distance had become natural, touches were rare now and it was in moments like these that I hated it the most. Hating on the happy couples we saw on our way was easier than trying to find something nice to talk about, so that’s what I did. Fred looked like he was lost in his world and he only gave me some attention when he pushed the Three Broomsticks’ door for me. We found a table against a window, which provided a nice warmth, and Fred put his jacket on the chair.

“Butterbeer or hot chocolate?”

“You know the answer.” I said, playing with my sleeve.

“So it’ll be hot chocolate with chamallows for the damsel.”

He left with a smile to order our drinks, leaving me alone for a good five minutes. When he came back, a pint of butterbeer in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, I had had plenty of time to ruminate over everything I had decided to talk about with him during the past two days. However, the chuckle that shook his shoulders when he told me about the guy who had just tripped with three bottles of butterbeer in his hands stopped me. It could be a good afternoon, and these were too rare for my liking. It happened of course, our relationship wasn’t absolute hell, but it had definitely worsened with the time.

“Y/N, you okay? You look quite pale.” Fred was looking at me with concern in the eyes. “No, don’t tell me: I bet a galleon you’ve been working on your potion essay until very very late at night. How right am I?”

“Very right,” I muttered before passing a hand on my face. “I don’t get it. How can you spend so little time on your work without being at least a little bit nervous?”

“You know I don’t really care about all of this. I’ve got other priorities and bigger ambitions.”

“I know, but you’ll need this knowledge, won’t you?”

Fred was keen to avoid another argument, and he sighed loudly.

“We’ve already talked about this Y/N, George and I can do without all this scolar stuff. Plenty of people have done that already.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m sorry we’ve spent all that time arguing.” added Fred after a pause. “It’s not time we can gain back.”

“Maybe we can’t,” I began cautiously, “but we can try to do better. Try not to lose more time.”

“It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway.” Another pause. “Do you want to take a walk? Looks like it’s getting warmer outside.”

We got up and exited the pub. Indeed, the sun was higher in the sky and its rays weren’t hidden by clouds. The warmth on my face was more than welcome, and the pleasant sensation made me forget Fred’s last sentence.

This time, he grabbed my hand and we exchanged jokes on the way back to the castle. We bumped into a few friends and even one or two professors, but most of the time it was just Fred and I. Until the moment we arrived near the castle entrance, that is.

“Hey Y/L/N, how are you?”

A Slytherin guy stepped in front of me, obliging me to stop and pull on Fred’s hand. The least I could say was that he didn’t look pleased at all with the interruption. The Slytherin didn’t look like he gave a care and kept smiling at me.

“I was thinking, we could go to Hogsmeade together one of these days. I mean, I guess you want to cover your back, so I’m here if-”

I wanted this pretentious git to shut up, and it looked like Fred had read in my mind because his fist collided with the nose of the guy with a disgusting noise of cracked bone.

“That’s what you get for trying to ask my girlfriend out.” he muttered before grabbing my hand.

I should have said something, whether thank you or are you crazy? but in all honesty I was trying to calm my heart, which was beating like crazy. It was rare to hear such words from Fred’s mouth or so it had become, but hearing him calling me his girlfriend, punching a guy that was hitting on me, that gave me hope for our couple.

And it made it even more painful when, a few weeks later, Fred left Hogwarts with George on his broom without a word to me. Without something as simple as a glance behind. All I could do was watch helplessly as he saluted Peeves and flew away and try to process the fact that he was giving up on me. Did that mean that we weren’t together anymore? That he had decided on his own he had enough of me, that I wasn’t worth the effort? It’s right here, alone in this crowded corridor after the most crazy departure from the castle we had witnessed, that I understood the meaning of what Fred had told me back at the Three Broomsticks, during our last date. It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway. What an idiot I had been! Here I was, thinking he was talking about the war, persuaded that he was just being extremely pessimistic, when he was in fact confessing that he was going to leave the castle and basically dump me without having the decency to assume it in front of me! I got back to my dorm, trying my best to keep a neutral face as I knew most of the students I would bump into were going to search for the slightest ounce of pain on my face. I only let my walls crumble when I got to the common room, and the first sobs left my mouth when the door of the dorm was closed.

I threw myself on my bed and grabbed the pillow that I wedged underneath my chest. The anger would come later; for now, I needed to cry as many tears as I had in stock. I stayed in my bed the rest of the day, did surprisingly well in faking sleep when the dorm filled, and spent an agitated night. When I got up the next morning, my first thought was to wonder why my head was so heavy and painful, and when I remembered, my second thought was that it was time for anger. I grabbed my prettiest shirt, slipped in a particularly fitting pair of jeans, and watched myself in the mirror, hoping to fool people enough to avoid questions. At the sight of my dull skin, my eye bags and my glossy eyes, I realized the most beautiful clothes in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, so I sighed, grabbed my bag, sighed again and left the dorm with one goal: forgetting Fred Weasley, my love for him and the pain he had caused me.

_ _ _

A few months later, it had become very obvious that I had failed that goal. I was still full of resentment toward Fred and what he had done, and I was able to get really irritated when someone reminded me of him in any way. The fact that I had gotten involved completely in the Order and that most of his family was in it too didn’t help at all and it had led to a few encounters I would have given anything to avoid. Fortunately, he was busy with his joke shop and we never saw each other long enough to say more than hello. Well, that was before Mrs Weasley organized a diner at the Burrow with a few members of the Order, me included.

She had been particularly pleased to see me, and Ginny had confessed it was because her mother was persuaded I would run away.

“You know, because of the git I have to call my brother.” she had added with a disapproving pout.

Ginny had been very disappointed in Fred when he had left, not because of school because she would have done the same if she could but because he had left me on the sidelines. She was a good friend and confident, and even though family was everything to her, she had assured me she would never forgive Fred for what she used to call “a very stupid mistake”. However, as I was squeezed on the couch between her and Tonks, all the support she could provide me wasn’t enough considering the fact that Fred was only a meter or two away and his eyes were fixed on me. I was repeating myself that it didn’t matter, I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but his gaze seemed to be getting heavier as the minutes passed by. It took me a good quarter of an hour to gather enough courage to look directly at him with the idea of making him understand he was annoying me, but the strange sparkle in his eyes intrigued me more than it should and I found myself looking away faster than what my ego could accept. A few seconds later, his hand was on my shoulder.

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Ginny’s elbow hit my ribs repetitively until I sighed. I got up without a word and lifted an eyebrow, which Fred interpreted as a positive answer and apparently as an authorization to grab my hand.

“Don’t go too far.” I warned before removing my hand and walking toward the stairs.

I didn’t know how this would turn out as we hadn’t had any proper conversation since he had left months ago. All this rancour I had built up was ready to resurface at any moment, and I wanted to do my best to avoid the disaster. That’s why I decided it would be better if this conversation happened on a ground as neutral as possible, which would be complicated considering the fact that I was in his childhood home, but not impossible. I settled for a room I was sure wasn’t the twins’, maybe Bill’s, and if he wondered why this choice, Fred never questioned it out loud. The door closed behind his back, and I was surprised to notice that it didn’t cause me any anxiety.

“You look tired.” he finally said with a certain hesitation when he understood I wouldn’t speak first.

Quite honestly, I had imagined a lot of things, but certainly not this.

“I’m- what? What does that mean?” I added with a grunt.

“It means I think you look tired. Is it that surprising?”

“That you’re concerned for my well-being? Since you left school without telling me and didn’t give me any news I have to admit that yes, it’s surprising!”

It was too late to contain my anger as it seemed, and I decided the best I could do was leave the room before exploding. It was without counting on Fred though, who visibly didn’t want me to leave.

“Get out of the way Fred, there’s nothing left to say.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, there’s everything to say.”

We looked each other in the eyes for quite a long time, and I eventually sighed before looking away, too afraid of the heartbeat my heart missed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry for what I did.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but things weren’t great between us and… I don’t know, I didn’t think that much.” I scoffed and took a step backward. Fred’s eyes were filled with what I had a hard time admitting was sadness - or regret, maybe? - and they followed every movement I made to sit on the bed. “Listen Y/N, back then I really loved you and I still love you now. But this thing between us… It turned out not good at all, it wasn’t healthy for us to keep it the way it was.”

“So you think you only had two options? You decided by yourself you had to choose between staying with me and keep suffering or leaving without a word?” My voice was maybe a bit louder than intended, but it was too late to keep my heart closed. He wanted a discussion, he would have it. “You never for a second imagined we could make it work again? Fred, what you did was breaking my heart, nothing else!”

“And I broke mine in the process.”

“I- I don’t believe you. You’re the one who made the decision, you are the responsible. You are responsible!”

Fred looked away, and I could have sworn he was tearing up. All the words he could have come up with wouldn’t have changed my mind, but the tears that were now threatening to run down his face made my anger falter. It wasn’t pity but comprehension; these tears, they had covered my face so many times these last months and even before that I could recognize them undoubtedly. I was blaming Fred for leaving me, and even if I wouldn’t forgive him for the way he did it, blaming him for wanting a true breakup would be hypocritical. After all, hadn’t I thought about it myself? The only difference was that Fred had been brave enough to end it, not me. But that didn’t make the abandon any less painful, or these last months any less hard to think about.

“Why now? It’s been months, why do you apologize now?”

Fred sniffed quietly and passed his hand on his face, wiping away a few tears in the process.

“Would you have let me apologize before?” Of course not, I would have punched him and left. “We were both hating me for what I did Y/N, and… I know I’m not pardonable, I just want you to understand that I regret and that no matter what happened, I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“I’ll be too Fred, trust me. But you’re right, you’re not pardonable.”

And I left without saying anything else, closed quietly the door between Fred and I, and it felt like it was the definitive end for us.

_ _ _

Something like three weeks later, the situation of the wizarding world had worsened exponentially. Attacks from death eaters were getting more and more common, and this toward muggles, blood traitors and members of the Order. Two weeks ago, I had participated in my first real monitoring mission with Tonks, and that had made me a veritable member of the Order with all the dangers that it implied. My relationship with Fred had become a bit better after our conversation at the Burrow and he had been the first to show worry about me. An hour or so before my departure for the mission with Tonks, he had left the shop to find me and tell me to keep the Dumbledore’s Army galleon so that he could know if I was in trouble. I had accepted because I wanted him to leave but with time, I had concluded that having it with me was reassuring. I would have never admitted it in front of him though.

A few days ago, Fred had invited me for a special evening at the shop that was organized for the presentation of a new product. He had refused to tell me anything about it and had assured me I would find it hilarious. I wanted to go but the thought of spending an evening with him still made me uncomfortable. Finally, I had accepted on the condition that Ginny was coming with me.

The first thought that crossed my head when I apparated in Diagon Alley is that never in my life would I have thought it possible to see it so empty, so lifeless. Almost all the boutiques I had visited so many times were closed, some because the owner had stopped their activity for a question of security and others because of much darker reasons. My eyes found the only bright light of the alley and I picked up the pace to reach the twins’ shop quicker. All the customers were hurrying inside, they probably felt as oppressed as I did.

“Here you are!” exclaimed Ginny when I reached the door. “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind. Glad you didn’t though, George told me what the new product is and it really seems fun.”

I hummed absent-mindedly as my eyes left the floor to wander around me. Trying to convince myself I wasn’t looking for Fred would have been stupid and a loss of time, so I just grumbled once more at my weakness and asked Ginny where her brother was.

“Probably in the back shop preparing his grand entrance. Come on, let’s get closer to the stage.”

If she didn’t make any comment, I didn’t miss her smirk as she grabbed my hand to drag me through the crowd of customers. We finally reached the stage that was occupying all the space in this part of the shop, and I found an empty spot somewhere on the left. On the stage was a huge white cover that was hiding what looked like a board and a table one behind the other, and I barely had the time to think that it was a very simple installation before the twins made their appearance. Everyone cheered and especially the younger ones and Ginny. For my part, I adopted a small smile that widened when Fred winked at me - against my will, I promise.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Fred.

“Dear customers,” continued George.

“Let us present to you our latest product.”

“It is the result of a long work of research and development-”

“And your future darling, it’s a promise.”

George waved his wand and the cover disappeared.

At first, the silence seemed very heavy, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened in their heads to create such a thing in times like these. Then, a kid in the audience giggled, and it seemed to relax everyone; laughter burst and some were already shaking their wallet. Ginny was applauding and shaking her head. The twins’ smiles widened and they got off of the platform to reach out to their customers.

It was fun indeed, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they truly measured the impact of what they had just done.

_ _ _

“U-no-poo Fred? Really?”

Fred giggled as if I had just told him a very good joke he had never heard before.

“You have to admit that’s pretty clever!”

“That’s not clever, that’s stupid and not fun at all and- and that’s dangerous Fred!”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t let go of that cocky smirk.

“Y/N, would you happen to be worried?”

“No, I was just thinking your instinct for survival was better than that.” My averted eyes didn’t mislead anyone though. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this Fred, that’s all.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He hesitated for a second, and our eyes fell on the hand he had lifted and stopped above my shoulder. I didn’t say anything and he squeezed it gently. “These laughter earlier, that’s why we’re taking the risk. You have your way to fight the darkness, I have mine, that’s all.” I didn’t find anything to reply to that. “You know, I didn’t think you would come tonight, even Ginny was doubtful. And given the look on your face when I told you about it I thought you would refuse, really.” Fred paused and his fingers clenched lightly against my shoulder once more. “Why did you decide otherwise?”

That was a good question. Why? I had spent the last few days trying to figure out why the first answer in my head had been immediate and positive, why my heart had first beaten like crazy at the thought of seeing Fred again instead of aching as it used to, why I couldn’t hate him as much as I thought I did, as much as I thought I had to. Suddenly, some customer’s shoulder collided with my back with enough strength to make me lose my balance. The position we ended up in felt natural, as if Fred’s torso had always been there for me to rest my head on it and his hands were meant to be on my back.

“I had missed this.” I murmured, and I felt his agreement through the vibrating of his body.

I timidly encircled him with my own arms, and the feeling was so unhoped for, I had craved it for so long, that I found myself unable to move away from him. The more time passed by and the tighter our embrace was until it became almost difficult to breathe.

“Maybe I should…” muttered Fred before loosening his hold, but without letting go of me. “Never again,” he added with a smile, and it didn’t take long for me to realize what it meant. “I’m not leaving you again.”

And as cliché as it could sound, I read the truth in his eyes. The pain, the regrets, the way he had been hating himself everyday for what he had done, but also comprehension because he knew I had been feeling the same. The Weasley sparkle was here too, bright and vivid and loving, and his smile was wider than every smile I had ever seen. I was probably looking the same, and if I wasn’t, I was definitely experiencing this euphoria that was shaking every cell of my body and making my heart beat so fast.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Fred’s voice was low, but it was the only thing I heard.

“Do it then.”

“Let me finish darling. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don’t deserve it, not after what I did to you. Give me some time to earn it, okay? We’ll make it work again, I’ll make it work again.”

I nodded, torn by two completely opposite emotions. I was grateful because Fred wanted us to become a loving couple again, and disappointed because I needed him, so much that it hurt. But after all this time, it wouldn’t have felt right, and after all maybe it was for the best. Suddenly, I became aware again of the noise in the shop: dozens of customers were still talking happily about their purchase and congratulating George.

“I should go back home. It’s… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know, don’t worry.” Fred smiled and kissed my hair. I gave him my back and took barely two steps toward the door before he grabbed my hand. “Wait Y/N, I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home. It’s dangerous outside and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You shouldn’t leave your little party, Freddie. Don’t worry for me, I’ll apparate as soon as I can, okay?”

“You have the galleon, right?”

“Yes Fred, I have it, and yes I’ll warn you when I’m home.”

He nodded and let go of my hand. I sneaked through the crowd of customers and reached the door. I was on the verge of opening it when Fred’s voice echoed.

“Are you going to leave without a U-no-poo Y/N?”

“Who told you I needed one?”

Fred chuckled, and I only looked away when the door closed. The alley was still somber, and the same dying feeling was floating in the air, but my heart was lighter than it had been in months. I was so happy that nothing could have tarnished my joy, or so I thought.

It’s my training as a new Order member that kicked in and made me dodge the first curse. As the only remaining window of Ollivander’s shop exploded, two dark silhouettes made their appearance between the twins’ shop and I, making it impossible for me to reach any safe place on this side of the alley. What I feared was confirmed when at least two other death eaters’ feet hit the paving stones.

All of this had happened in a second, and I reached for the magical galleon in my pocket before anything else. An instant later, I was forced to dive to the ground with my hand still stuck in my jeans. I got up quickly and drew my wand. It was too late. Something burnt my back with such intensity that the heat spread to the core of my body. Through the excruciating pain, my dizzy brain noticed that there wasn’t a sound that left my mouth, and soon my knees hit the ground. My arms refused to obey and I found myself falling forward without anything to shield my head. The shock was brutal as the rest of the scene. The death eaters left without anything else, word or curse, and soon the noise made by their footsteps disappeared. It felt like an eternity before someone else arrived whereas it had probably been less than two minutes. Time definitely seemed to stop when I realized it was Fred.

“Y/N, what’s- oh god, Y/N, can you hear me? Please tell me you’re still with me… Y/N!”

His arms slipped underneath my limp body. Even the heat he gave me as he was hugging me against his torso wasn’t enough to dissipate the icy cold in my bones. He was calling for help, desperate to be heard as it seemed like we were both glued to the paving stones.

“Please Y/N, tell me- tell me I’m dreaming. This- This is all in my head, it’s all happening in my head... Right? Y/N, say something, please!” I wished I could have reassured him, but my strength was leaving me. “I still have to gain back your love, Y/N you can’t leave me… You can’t…”

Fred was almost sobbing now, shouting to whatever cruel god was watching him that he couldn’t live without me, screaming pleas and crying at this unfairness. His arms were still holding me, and even this feeling was slowly vanishing; soon, I wondered if I had ever felt it and the only answer I could get was the aching in my body that had nothing to do with the curse.

Death wasn’t that bad, after all, less painful than life, and I wished Fred could read it in my mind.

#rach's1kcelebration #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #tw death

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Text

When a loss isn't really a loss

This is just over 5000 words of O'Darwin smut and general silliness. Enjoy. Some of this I have posted as a live write before on the discord, but it's been heavily edited and added to.

Rating: E

CW: Explicit sex, food talk

Please message me if you I missed any content warnings.

All of these characters come from the fanfic Sweater Weather and Credit for them goes to @lumosinlove

"I'm going to jump in the shower and then I'll be ready to collect payment," Natalie smirked, shaking her ass at her boyfriends as she bent down to peel off her snowy boots at the door.

"Absolutely not," Alex scoffed, smacking her butt, although she couldn't feel much through the padding of her thermals and ski pants "You cheated."

"I made one tiny comment," Natalie argued, setting her boots to the side, and stepping a little further into the cabin to take off her jacket. "It’s not my fault your brain is in your dick."

"Okay, but it's not as if anybody is really losing, is it?" Kasey said pushing past Alex, having mentioned multiple times by now that he was ready to be out of the cold. "Let's be real, eating you out is the real prize here, babe."

"Kiss-ass," Alex grumbled.

"I'll kiss your ass anytime, Al,'' Kasey retorted. Alex muttered something under his breath, but Kasey ignored him, continuing to shrug off his clothes until he was left in only his base layers. "I'll start a fire whilst you hop in the shower, Nat."

“Thanks, love,” Natalie pecked a kiss to Kasey’s cheek, the slight scruff he had decided to sport for the trip was rough against her lips. Alex had finally managed to get his boots off, and joined the two of them in pulling off his skiwear. She drew up onto her tiptoes, not letting the couple of inches of extra height Alex had on her be a deterrent as she ruffled his hair and placed a kiss on his cheek too. “Suck it up, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” Alex protested. “I want a rematch tomorrow!” he called as she retreated from the room, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

The warm water felt wonderful cascading down Natalie’s body, soothing her tired muscles. She could have stayed under it forever; the thought of Alex and Kasey waiting for her in the lounge the only thing motivating her to move through the routine of washing her hair. The coconut scent of her conditioner permeated the room as she stepped out of the shower and piled her hair beneath a towel.

She stepped out into the short hallway, hearing hushed bickering coming from the living room. Rolling her eyes, she yelled to let them know the bathroom was unoccupied. “Boys! The shower is free!” The bickering continued, the topic switching from where the next log should be placed, to which of them should be left to finish the job. Natalie considered interrupting to inform them she could probably do the task quicker than either of them, but she left them to it, heading to the bedroom.

She hummed to herself whilst she rummaged through her suitcase, considering the new lyrics she’d doodled on the flight here, until she felt the slippery material of the satin pyjamas she was looking for.

“Aha.” She gave a satisfied smile, pulling the bralette and shorts on and looked in the mirror. “Damn, Darcy,” Natalie approved, turning to appreciate the way the material clung to her ass in all the right ways. She adjusted the top slightly, gave a satisfied nod and shook her still slightly damp hair from the towel, letting it fall down around her shoulders in loose waves. For a moment, she considered blow drying it, but she preferred the way it looked when it was allowed to dry naturally. If Alex and Kasey wanted to have sex, then they could deal with it.

The lounge was empty when Natalie returned, the logs and fire - lighter abandoned on the ground. She snorted at the tiny tepee that had been built in the grate, imagining Alex lecturing Kasey on the technique, until they decided it was more fun to take a shower together. It was a far too regular occurrence for Alex to remind them he had been a boy scout only to completely fail at the skills he was supposed to have learnt was comical. At this point, she suspected the only useful thing to come out of it were the photos of a small Alex dressed in little shorts, grinning proudly at his badge-covered sash. The organisation could go fuck themselves, but she had to admit the images were adorable.

Natalie gathered the materials, making light work of getting the fire started. Her own skills came from weekend camping trips with her family, her parents having encouraged her to pull her weight alongside her brother. Kasey wasn't one to embrace nature, more inclined towards the comfort of hotel rooms and running water. Still, Natalie was daydreaming about dragging him and Alex on long hikes when the pair of them interrupted it, walking back into the lounge with sheepish expressions.

"In our defence -" Alex started, his sentence ending abruptly when he properly took in Natalie's appearance. "Excuse me, nobody told me we were supposed to be looking hot. I need to go and get changed," he gestured to the pair of joggers sitting loosely on his hips.

Kasey shook his head, quickly grabbing the back of Alex's t-shirt, halting his retreat. "Don't bother, I don't plan on them being on for long."

"Okay, yeah, I could be down with that," Alex agreed. "But fuck, Nat. Warn a guy next time."

Natalie laughed, pushing herself up from the floor and relocating to the sofa, a few steps away. "Where would the fun in that be?"

"It's alright, Al. You could be wearing a bin bag and you'd still be hot," Kasey said, releasing Alex's t-shirt from his grip.

"Aww babe," Alex cooed. His eyes flicked from Kasey to Natalie, pointing his thumb at Kasey. "Can you believe this guy manages to convince people that he's a tough man?"

"Hey, real men talk about their emotions," Kasey shrugged. "We did a whole campaign on it, soon after you joined the Rangers. Remember?"

"I do, the t-shirt they gave you was too fucking small and I swear I nearly combusted,” Alex tipped his back slightly whilst he laughed. Natalie loved watching the two of them interact. There was something light about it, almost as if they seemed to forget the rest of the world was there. "Nat, it was honestly sinful.”

Okay, perhaps they forgot everybody but her. And frankly, Natalie was honoured.

"Sinful huh? I approve of sin," Natalie raised an eyebrow, patting the seat beside her. "Get over here." She didn't have to ask twice, soon flanked on either side by her hockey boys. She nudged her shoulder against Alex's. "So, have you reconsidered that maybe you did actually lose earlier." Alex ran his tongue over his lips, dragging his eyes over her form. "I could be convinced," he murmured, fingers trailing over Natalie's thigh. "I still want another race tomorrow though."

"You know I'm going to win again," Natalie smirked, leaning in to let her breath skim over his ear. "What are you waiting for? I'm ready," she whispered, punctuating her words with a kiss to his jaw, spreading her legs a little further. Alex stumbled a little as dropped to his knees in front of her. Apparently he was excited.

"It really is a shame to take these off, they're so pretty," Alex sighed, grasping the waistband of the shorts, although he didn't seem to be too disappointed to be sliding the silky fabric down her legs.

He kissed a trail up her thighs, each kiss sending a tiny shiver up Natalie's spine. Her body was tight with the anticipation of what was coming. They weren't new to this, Alex spent a lot of time between her legs, but in her opinion, the thrill had only increased. She knew how good he could make her feel now. Alex hooked his hands under her knees and shifted her a little closer to him. Leaning forward, he dragged his tongue through the damp already forming between her legs, tasting her with slow, leisurely licks. Natalie whined, low at the back of her throat, her hips pushing up and legs tightening around Alex as she sought more of his attention. He obliged, pressing his tongue flat against her clit, bringing his fingers to play at it, his beard rough against her skin as he sucked eagerly at her centre.

She let her head tip back, finding Kasey's strong hold behind her. He kissed gently at the exposed skin of her neck, capturing her mouth to swallow her next moan. "Can you tell me what you want next Nat? You're going to come on Al's face, yeah? Then what?"

Natalie managed a nod, her hands flying to tangle in Alex's hair as he dipped his tongue inside her. "Fuck, Alex. Do that again." Alex repeated the precise flick of his tongue, his small chuckle at Natalie's string of expletives, reverberating through her.

"Hey," Kasey's hand gripped her chin carefully, getting her focus. "What next?"

Natalie couldn't think what came next when Alex was working his magic, any coherent thought she managed to form was forced away by the skilful tease of his mouth.

Kasey traced the wildflowers inked around her belly button, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you want me to fuck you?" He snaked his hands upwards, ducking into the cup of her bralette to toy with her nipple. "Or Haz? Or maybe both?"

"Yes," Natalie gasped, rocking her hips against Alex's mouth. "Yes, yes yes." She wanted that. She wanted all of it.

"It's alright, babe. We've got you," Kasey continued to tug at her nipples, each pull sending a shiver down her spine. She writhed under their touch, her body unsure what it wanted more of. Alex pulled back a little, soothing Natalie's whine by replacing his mouth with his fingers, pressing them inside her.

"Please," The cry fell from her lips, guiding Alex's head back down. He followed enthusiastically, fingers still pushing into her as he lapped at her clit, grazing lightly over it with his teeth. She urged his mouth harder against her, the familiar tingle of pleasure playing at the ends of her limbs.

"That's it love, come on him. I can't wait to taste you on him,” Kasey encouraged.

“Fuck Al - I'm so close," she whimpered, her breath coming in quick pants.

A warmth pooled in her stomach, seemingly every muscle in her body tensing as Alex upped his efforts, his face buried in her as he nipped and sucked and licked. Kasey's mouth was back on her, his hands squeezing at her breasts. She couldn't tell where each of her whimpers and mewls started and ended anymore, the sounds melding into a symphony of pleasure; her boys playing her body like a practised instrument.

Natalie let herself voice her pleasure without restraint, enjoying the fact their cabin was nestled into a secluded spot in the forest and nobody would be able to hear them.

"Oh fuck, yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Gonna come." The words fell from her lips rambling and desperate, her hand curling tighter into Alex's hair in warning. Her world narrowed as she came, everything but the intense pleasure searing through her becoming irrelevant in that small moment. The two of them worked her through, coaxing every second of bliss from her they could, until the spasms slowed and she relaxed against Kasey.

"I believe I said something about sharing." Kasey grasped Alex's hand, leaning down to help him close the gap between them. Alex's face was sticky with her come, but Kasey didn't hesitate to crash their mouths together. Natalie watched them kiss above her, the euphoria still making her thoughts a little hazy, but a small excitement told her that she was definitely still horny, despite the fact she had barely recovered from the last orgasm.

Kasey pulled away; the corners of his mouth turned up into a soft smile that didn't quite seem to match the situation. "Messy boy," he chirped, cupping Alex's jaw and gathering the slick onto his fingers. Slipping them between his lips, Kasey sucked them, giving a long moan at the taste.

Alex's back clicked as he clambered back up onto the couch properly. The juxtaposition between the reminder of the reality of human bodies, and the almost pornographic gesture she had just witnessed from Kasey made Natalie snort a laugh. “Are you okay there, old man?" she flashed Alex a grin.

Alex poked her gently in her side, chuckling a laugh against her lips. "Shut up."

Natalie shoved him in the arm playfully. "Thank you, that was awesome. Maybe I'll let you win tomorrow so I can return the favour."

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie saw Kasey reach down to palm himself through his shorts. She pecked a kiss to Alex's cheek, his face still shiny with her come. "Why don't you go and wash that off before it starts to get itchy. I want all your attention on me when you're fucking me."

Alex let his head drop back against the sofa with a groan, and Natalie laughed as his eyes seemed to glaze over slightly. A filthy comment never failed to get him worked up.

"Okay, Okay, I'm going. Don't do anything too interesting until I get back," Alex pushed off the sofa eagerly, dragging his eyes over Natalie and Kasey before he hurried to the bathroom in a half-jog.

“Bring the lube too!” Natalie called after Alex, swinging her leg over to straddle Kasey’s lap. Kasey smirked as he lifted his head to catch Natalie’s lips with his own, pulling back from the kiss only once their breaths were coming in heavy pants.

“Think that was too interesting?” he murmured, burying his face into her shoulder..

“I don’t know. What do you think about this?” Natalie ground her hips down, drawing a whine from Kasey.

“Definitely too interesting,” Kasey gasped, bucking up into the contact.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Alex shouted, his footsteps heavy in the hallway.

“That’s what I’m going to be saying in about two seconds if you don’t stop,” Kasey quipped, setting his hands on Natalie’s waist, his fingers squeezing gently.

“What took you so -” Natalie looked up as Alex hurried into the room, his feet slipping slightly on the hardwood. “Where are your clothes?”

Natalie had to cling onto Kasey's shoulders to avoid being thrown from his lap when he turned his whole body, whipping his head around at the question. God, Kasey was so cool until he wasn't at all.

“Figured I wouldn’t need them for this next part,” Alex smiled. His face was so expressive, the emotion lifting his entire face. He swept his hand through his hair smoothly as if he hadn’t just nearly landed on his ass. “I did bring lube though, and condoms,” he added, showcasing the aforementioned objects. “Still waiting on that second set of results after Philly.”

Two sets of testing. Two weeks apart. The second set at least a month after the event. Plus twice a year routine testing. Those were the rules they had laid out for not using a condom if any of them had sex with somebody outside of them and a few other select people they trusted. It wasn’t fool proof, but it was what the three of them were comfortable with.

"Get over here,” Natalie beckoned. “I was thinking we could have a do-over of Vegas?”

“Vegas?” How Alex managed to make the thoughtful tilt of his head look almost puppyish, sauntering over buck naked, and his hands full of sex paraphernalia, Natalie would never know. He glanced at the cabin door, eyes widening slightly.

“Yep,” Natalie sniggered. “No room service to interrupt here.”

“I think we’ve already established that you are the brains of this relationship, eh?” Kasey prodded her in the side. Natalie was so busy trying to escape the fingers tickling under her last rib that she didn’t hear Alex dropping to his knees behind her, startling as his hair brushed against her cheek. “Stop it,” she laughed, batting away Kasey’s hands, her head tipping back into the kiss Alex was pressing into the curve of her neck.

“Let’s try not to have anybody end up on the floor this time, Kase?” Alex returned the laugh, his steady weight behind her the only thing that was preventing her fall.

“I will bite you,” Kasey lifted a hand from Natalie’s hip to show Alex his middle finger.

“Is that a promise?”

“Do you two want the room to yourself?” Natalie chuckled, pushing her ass back against Alex. She chuckled as his cock twitched in response. “Hmm, I’ll take that as a no. Enough talk then?”

“Fuck, I want to rim you first, please?” Alex groaned lowly, hauling himself from the floor. “And you sir, are wearing too many clothes. Rectify that.” He took the seat next to Kasey, curling his fingers around his jaw and pulling into a needy kiss.

“Oh, he’s bossy today. Better do as he says, Sugar,” Natalie chuckled, sliding from Kasey's lap. He remained seated, his eyes following her every move whilst she quickly dragged one of the armchairs so that it was opposite the sofa. Satisfied, she returned to him, for once being the one to look down at him. She gave him a soft smile, tucking a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. “Come now, There’s a front row seat for you once you’re ready,” she said, hooking her finger into the neckline of the old faded Gryffindor tee he was wearing and urging him to stand.

“And I didn’t even buy tickets,” Kasey laughed lightly, pulling the t-shirt over his head. Natalie shoved him gently, shaking her head at the terrible joke.

Still smiling, Natalie draped herself over the arm of the sofa, her back arched and feet resting on Alex’s thighs. She glanced over her shoulder to find Alex’s gaze fixed past her on Kasey undressing. She couldn’t really blame him, letting herself watch as Kasey shoved his sweatpants down seemingly endless legs. The pants hit the ground with a quiet thud.

“Fuck, I forgot my cell was in there,” Kasey muttered.

“You need to work on your act, babe,” Alex snorted.

The trance-like weight that had filled the room lifted and Natalie dug her toes into Alex’s leg, garnering his attention. “Since you asked so nicely,” she grinned, dancing her fingers over the curve of her ass.

“I did, didn’t I?” Alex hummed, his hand covering Natalie’s. It was warm, and even though his eyes were dark with anticipation, the grasp was gentle. “Just relax, watch Kase,” he said, squeezing their fingers together lightly, nudging her hand away as he let go.

Natalie listened to him, tucking her arms beneath her head and turning to watch Kasey. Alex’s lips were soft against her skin, pressing kisses everywhere from the top of her thighs to the base of her spine. Kasey finished undressing, taking his time to create a meticulously neat stack on the coffee table, leaving only his underwear to the side. She caught his quick look at Alex, but she was too slow to read whatever communication they’d been having, both of their expressions quickly schooled back into innocence. She huffed, any irritation she had felt wiped away by the nip of Alex’s teeth on her ass.

Kasey folded himself into the armchair Natalie had moved, one leg tucked casually beneath the other. The position left his cock exposed and Natalie was about to make a casual quip when Alex let his breath whisper over her asshole. Her whole body tensed, Kasey wrapping his hand around the length of his cock at the same time as Alex let his tongue brush over her sensitive nerve endings. “Fuck, Al,” she whipped her head around, quickly turning to look back at Kasey who was teasing himself with slow strokes. She whimpered, unsure where she wanted to look.

“Sssh,” Alex soothed, “Watch our boy.”

Natalie couldn’t have told you how long it was until Alex shifted again. A few minutes maybe? Perhaps more. That first intense pleasure of his tongue pushing into her slowly morphed into something more relaxing. It was an odd contrast to Kasey getting more and more worked up, his groans escalating until he bucked into his fist one last time, quickly enveloping the head of his cock with his boxers.

“Damn, Snow. Come here,” Alex beckoned Kasey over once he had taken a second to get his body back under his control, his legs still a little wobbly as he made his way over.

Natalie hadn’t even noticed the lazy circles her hips were rubbing into the sofa below her, until Alex stilled them. “Are you ready to take some fingers now, Nat?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs into the back of her thighs in a slow massage.

“So fucking ready.” Natalie rocked back a little to stretch her muscles out. Now that Alex’s tongue wasn’t working her into a euphoric state, she could feel her back protesting the position. “Remind me why we’re doing this here and not in the bedroom again?”

“Something about someone wanting to say they had fucked in front of a fireplace in a cabin,” Kasey drawled.

“Oh yeah, who would that have been?” Natalie gave a small smirk. Perhaps there were easier things they could have done out here, but she was determined to fulfil her fantasy completely.

“You want to switch it up? Kase could lie under you, whilst I prep your booty?”

Natalie laughed, sitting back on her heels to let Kasey lie where she’d been. “I’m officially adding booty to the list of words we don’t say during sex.”

“Such a party pooper," Alex quipped, sticking his tongue out at the eye roll he received from Natalie. He chucked a condom in Kasey’s direction, the latter plucking it from the air with ease. Natalie waited for him to roll it on, and then swung her hips over his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down into a kiss.

“Hey,” Kasey grunted.

“Hey to you too, did you enjoy yourself over there?” Natalie mumbled against his lips, content in the security of his hug.

Kasey hummed, “I like watching you two. You’re my favourite people in the world y’know and you’re both incredibly hot.”

“Jesus,” Natalie huffed out a breath. “Do you want me to start crying?” she chuckled, kissing Kasey again, slow and long. Alex muttered something about them being too cute, before she felt the cool drip of lube between her butt cheeks, long fingers chasing it soon after. Alex took his time, adding more lube with each new finger. Kasey’s hands roamed endlessly over her back, his mouth stealing each approving whine from hers. It seemed unclipping her bralette and pulling the material from between them. She shivered as her nipples brushed against his skin, her body taught with anticipation.

“I’m going to come like this if one of you doesn’t fuck me soon,” Natalie gasped, grinding him. She could feel his cock growing harder each time it slipped through the wet slick pooling between her legs and she wanted nothing more than to take charge.

She didn’t have to though, and sometimes, that was just as nice. “I’ve got you babe,” Alex said, pulling his fingers from her, kissing the back of her neck to quiet the small whine she gave at the emptiness. His lips turned up into a smile against her skin and then he was gone.

Somewhere behind her, she heard the familiar tear of Alex opening a condom, but most of her attention was sought by Kasey. “Can’t wait to be inside of you,” he whispered, brushing her hair from the side of her face. “It’s always so good. And Al’s going to be right there as well. I bet I’ll be able to feel him. We’re going to make you feel so good.”

"Big promises, Kasey Winter," she teased, knowing there was nothing but truth behind the words. Even after all these years, things hadn't gotten boring. Sex wasn't the most important thing in their relationship, and if it had to stop tomorrow for some reason they had s0 much more, still it was something they both valued. Not everything new they tried worked out, but they never took each other for granted and they always had fun and she loved it.

Alex wasn't the first person they'd shared their bed with, however it had quickly become clear he was different. She couldn't deny there had been a small niggling part of her that had wondered if it would weaken her and Kasey's relationship. Of course, Alex had proved her wrong, slotting in perfectly. There had been issues, things they needed to work through, and there always would be. Nevertheless, Alex made things better.

"Natalie?" Alex asked, his fingers tapping against the curve of ass. "You with us?"

“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out. Are you ready?”

“Jeez Kase, I leave you with her for two minutes and she’s already bored. Step it up, lover boy,” Alex laughed, both him and Natalie squealing as Kasey sat up to smack Alex in the arm.

“Alex,” Natalie huffed.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Alex appeased her. “Here, I think this will be easiest if you sit up,” he suggested helping her into a more upright position and taking the spot behind her. “Yeah, like that. And then Kasey can go from this way,” he waved a hand that was vaguely instructional, waiting for a confirmatory nod from Kasey. “ That good, Nat?”

“I’m good,” Natalie affirmed and Alex pushed into her slowly, both of them groaning as she stretched around him. Natalie leaned back into his chest, his arms strong around her waist. She tilted her head back so he could capture her lips in a sloppy kiss, the short thrusts of hips drawing breathy moans from the both. Neither of them seemed to care when their teeth clashed, both of them too eager to be as close as possible. There wasn’t really enough room on the sofa for the three of them, their bodies slotting together at the most awkward angles, yet they made it work.

“One more, Kase,” Alex uttered. She could feel him squeezing his eyes shut against her neck, his breath coming in breathy pants each time she squeezed around him. Kasey obliged, adding a third finger with his next thrust. Between the two of them, Natalie felt full already, but she wanted more. Kasey was dragging his thumb lazily around her clit in a way that made Natalie’s toes curl, never quite where she needed it, just playing along the brink of something spectacular.

“Kase!” Sometimes Natalie enjoyed the slow dance, being teased until she felt like she was going to explode. Today, however, was not one of those days. She wanted Kasey in her, now.

“I hear you loud and clear, love,” Kasey hummed. “What does the boss man think?”

“The boss man? Is that me? Oh, I like that,” Alex said. The low grumble Natalie gave was almost inaudible. Still, Alex must have felt it because he chuckled, brushing his lips over shoulder blade. “Yeah, I think you better get on with it.”

“Holy shit,” Alex groaned, his fingers squeezing hard into the soft flesh around Natalie’s hips when Kasey sunk into her. “That is incredible.” At first the movements were awkward, but eventually they found a rhythm, Alex slipping out as Kasey pushed forward. Low whimpers fell from her lips with each thrust.

“Are you okay?” Kasey squeezed Natalie’s knee, the act managing to maintain a gentleness to it despite everything else.

“It’s a lot, but it’s good,” Natalie nodded jerkily. She grasped at the limbs around her, trying to gain purchase on the sweat slicked bodies. Her own body felt charged, brimming with electricity as they rocked together. Kasey shifted slightly and if Natalie thought it had been good before, it was nothing compared to this. "Oh my God, don't move. Please don't move."

"There you go, baby." Kasey pulled her closer, his hands firm on her hips, letting her rut against him. Behind her, she could tell Alex was getting close, his babbled exclamations becoming more and more incoherent. She knew the words coming out her own mouth were similarly incomprehensible. It was as if she could feel every inch of Alex’s hastening movements in every muscle. It was simultaneously too much and not enough.

Natalie was pretty sure Alex finished first, the warmth of his come seeping through the thin latex. She didn’t get to enjoy the sensation for long, falling into her own orgasm soon after. She does remember Kasey dragging her hips forwards to fuck her through it, tipping himself over the edge too.

“I’m down for doing that again sometime if you two are?” Natalie hummed once their heart rates had settled to something more like normal. She was sandwiched between Kasey and Alex. Now that the endorphins had started to wane, it was becoming rather uncomfortable, the three of them squeezed onto the small sofa. “Maybe somewhere more convenient next time.”

“Sure,” Kasey replied, his words laced with tiredness and a yawn escaping.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, Winter. You promised we could watch Black Widow tonight,” Alex sat up, poking Kasey in his side. “Come on, it’s not even late.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep,” Kasey blinked, once, twice, three times, before giving a heavy sigh.

“Nope, everybody up. Up. Shower time,” Alex clapped his hands together.

“See what happens when you let him take charge, Nat. It goes to his head. Look what you’ve created.” Kasey groaned, rubbing the heel of hand into his eyes. He did sit up though, pulling Natalie with him and she resigned herself to the fact they were moving.

“I want popcorn,” Natalie said, her mouth already watering at the thought of freshly popped kernels.

“Yes, good shout,” Alex agreed. “I think we still have pasta left over from last night too.”

It took a while, but eventually the three of them piled back onto the sofa, steaming bowls of popcorn decorated with pretzels and chocolate sauce on their laps. Natalie ran her thumb over the corner of Alex’s lips wiping away remnants of tomato sauce; the pasta hadn’t made it out of the kitchen. She leaned forward to grab the remote, Alex immediately taking the opportunity to feign throwing a piece of popcorn at Kasey.

“Nuh uh, if you’re going to start playing catch then I’m having the first attempt at catching. You two get all competitive and then I never get a turn,” Natalie reprimanded jokingly, already shifting her bowl to the coffee table so she wouldn’t lose it all.

“Okay, whoever catches the least out of ten has to make breakfast in the morning?” Alex agreed.

“Game on.” As Natalie opened her mouth to make her first catch, she felt a wet finger dip into her ear and the popcorn sailed past her into Kasey’s lap. He picked it up and dropped it into his mouth as a smug smirk. “No!” she protested with a laugh. “That’s cheating. That one doesn’t count.”

Kasey raised his hands in surrender, his own laugh bubbling in his chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll play fair, I promise.”

#18+#o'darwin #sweater weather #lumosinlove #kasey winter #alex o'hara #natalie darcy #cw: food #cw:sex

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ciarawritesmarvel · 5 years

Text

afterglow - steve rogers x reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k (if I round up)

Warnings: Some angst, which I know you don’t particularly expect from me, but it quickly dissolves into fluff

A/N: Finally! Here it is, my entry for the wonderful @peaky-shelby‘s gorgeous A Lover’s Challenge. I listened to the song as I wrote this and hope it seems sufficiently inspired by it, the actual song was a little too angsty and I couldn’t bring myself to leave it like that, not when the album itself is so hopeful. Ioanna, I hope you like it lovely, and thank you for allowing me to join your challenge! Without further ado...

masterlist in my bio and tags in the reblog! please drop me an ask to be added to any tag lists!

---

“Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us”

“Why are you doing this?”

The words hit you square in the chest, a force that makes you want to step backwards, take the space that would give you and use it to think calmly, think rationally.

You do none of this.

“Why am I doing this? You’re the one who’s done this, Steve, not me,” you bite back, words laced with a venom you don’t quite understand. All your heart is doing is screaming at you to stop, to cross the room and fall into two strong arms that you know would catch you. If you look at them, you can almost feel their grip around you, warm and strong and safe and-

Your head stops you. Puts your heart back in its place. You glare at Steve as you wait for an answer.

“But I’ve not done anything, sweetheart!” he was exasperated now, that much was clear, his previous softer tone that had been an attempt to calm you done replaced by hurt words and arms thrown in the air.

“Well if you think that, then this whole conversation is useless.”

It was the only thing you could say. Because Steve had done absolutely nothing wrong and you had no idea what the hell you were doing and why you felt like you had no control over what you were saying right now. It was a wonder you hadn’t started crying yet.

“Y/N,” he was back to that soothing tone again as he stepped towards you and you thanked everything within you for not moving away, “You gotta talk to me right now, because you’re really scaring me. Did something happen?”

What could you say? Yes, Steve, I realised for the first time that I was in love with you and started thinking about what that meant for us and now in a desperate attempt not to get hurt yet again I’m sabotaging everything we have.

“You happened,” you rebuked harshly, “And I’m not sure I wanted you to. This is all moving too fast, Steve.”

He looked pained for a moment before he nodded, lips pressed tightly together and of course he did, because he was too damn understanding at the best of times. You’d should’ve known he’d be too damn understanding in the worst of them too.

“Okay, I get it. I’m sorry. We can go slower,” he suggested and you didn’t miss the desperate note in his voice. Just as your heart was about to take back the reins and jump on him, you opened your mouth.

“Or we can just stop. You’re too much, Steve.”

His face fell. And you felt like you’d just been punched in the stomach. He’d told you multiple times that he worried he was too full on too quickly in your relationship, but that it was only because he was all in. You’d told him you were all in too. Reassured him.

Now you’d taken his heart from your top pocket and thrown it carelessly over your shoulder. It hurt you more than you could’ve anticipated, watching him stare at you like that, knowing just how much he was hurting right now. You didn’t want this.

“Right,” he mumbled, grabbing his coat from your bed where he’d thrown it when he arrived. You thought haphazardly about the fact that maybe if he’d arrived just thirty minutes later when you’d calmed down about the worries of giving him your heart, then maybe none of this would’ve happened.

You could’ve let him in and given him your heart with shaky hands and an unsure smile and he would’ve put it in his own top pocket, tapped it twice for safekeeping and you could have a wonderful night of music and chatter and absentminded touches.

Oh how you dreamt of those absentminded touches.

But it had happened and before you had time to comprehend anything or your heart had time to catch up, your stupid paranoid head had done the necessary damage and Steve had slammed the door behind him on his way out.

You didn’t bother to follow him. Instead you sat down on your bed and willed the tears to come. They refused to allow you any reprieve by falling, however, and you guessed that your heart might have been just slightly angry with you.

Throwing away the only true love you’d ever had wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, hands trembling as you picked at your nails, legs feeling numb to movement, head bowed as thoughts drifted in and out of your head. Lashing out was a defence mechanism you hated and yet it was the one you had been stuck with. If you stopped this now, then it would hurt but then it would stop and you would move on.

Right now, it felt like your head had done some miscalculations on how much this would hurt.

It was only when the word mistake was flashing in bright white font in your mind that you heard a muffled voice behind your door and then suddenly Steve was in your room again.

Stupid F.R.I.D.A.Y. Always acting in your best interests.

“Okay,” Steve said, no greeting or anything, and in a way you were glad, because it was clear he was expecting nothing back from you at this moment. You stayed in your position, but with your head raised and wild eyes locked onto his, “I know why you’re doing this. You’re scared. I get it. The past you’ve had, how could you not be?”

Flashes of white rooms and lab coats. Shiny metal and the taste of blood. You blinked. They’d really done a number on you.

“Steve-”

“No. My turn,” he said forcefully but with a kind edge that stopped you from biting back and let you listen, “HYDRA ruined your life. I get it, Y/N. They ruined mine too. But you have a chance now, a real chance, to get some of that life back. With me. If you want it.”

The lump in your throat was large and unforgiving and you were finding it hard to breathe. He was talking in broken sentences, struggling to find the words that he thought might change things, but seeming to find the perfect ones anyway. He was so perfect and he had no idea how exhausting it was.

��It’s okay if you don’t,” he continued, and you realised at some point you were going to have to say something or he’d simply continue forever, “Want that with me, I mean. I just- I think you do. And you won’t let yourself. But you should.”

You kept looking at him, not saying anything, but he could see your gaze softening with each word he said and he risked a step closer, knowing this would use up all his risks and doing it anyway.

When he crouched down and took your hands in his, he cooled them instantly. His were cold and icy, engulfing your too hot, too clammy hands in a basket of ice. All there had been at HYDRA was heat and fire and burning. And the last time you had given your heart to someone, they had burnt that too.

Sometimes you forgot just how cold Steve’s hands were.

His thumb ran well-worn lines into your knuckles. Absentminded touches. He pushed up from crouching to press a known kiss into your forehead before he returned to looking at you. Your eyes were closed. A few tears clumping your lashes, one escaping down the curve of your nose.

And you were concentrating. Really, truly concentrating. Because you wanted to say it. To make sure he knew now, because if he knew now then whatever might happen next or after that could be dealt with, could be moved on with. You wanted to say it.

“I-”

But no. The words got caught in that damn lump in your throat, and it wouldn’t let them past. And whilst this war raged on, a war you expected to last quite some time, you snuck some smaller, less weighty words past the lump and said those instead, hoping that for now they’d be enough, that they’d be enough to win the battle if not the war itself.

“I’ll try.”

Two words that meant nothing out of context but everything within this bubble. Steve finally smiled and you finally opened your eyes. The look on his face told that it was enough. That for now, that was all that was needed.

And though you knew there was still a war to win, you smiled too at the little victory.

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chirpycreations · 4 years

Text

How Villians Sleep At Night Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This story will NOT be my usual happy, bit of violence sorta thing. It will contain some mature themes and language. I don't mean Undertale genocide mature either. I mean abuse, manipulation, depression, low-self-esteem and possibly suicidal thoughts (I'll clarify this list as I work on the story). This isn't something I'd let my 12-year-old sister read so if you're under 14 I probably wouldn't recommend it.

Alrighty, with that out the way, happy reading!

- - - - - - -- -

Cold, windy and cold. The light snow began its descent, its final journey, landing down on his nose and everything around. Drawn like a magnet, he felt his hand jump outwards, catching one of these fallen angels, only for it to dissipate in a matter of seconds.

He paused a few meters from the door, turning back to the tall building which loomed over him. He must look different from when he arrived. His body felt chocked by the bandages around him. Ribcage, vertebrae and skull, left arm laying lazily in a sling. It wasn’t just his recent addition of battle scars and bruises those. His clothes, or more accurately, now his clothes. Donated to him by a friend. They were too small, too tight, too familiar. Sleeves of the tired blue hoodie just surpassing his elbows, trousseaus mimicking shorts, and pink fluffy slipper which, judging by their size must have once belonged to his friends older brother.

The wind wrapped around him as if in a hug to congratulate, or was it to comfort? Both would be appropriate given the events that had passed.

Regardless of its intent, he pulled the scarf up to his nose, covering up the sensitive bone beneath. It was still raw from only having been recently reintroduced to the world that lies around it. A world much colder than the one he had known 4 weeks prior, and for more reasons than just the winter chill, gesturing its commiserations.

He found himself drawn out from these thoughts by the moaning of the snow behind. Crunch, crush, crumble. The snow settled under the weight of the oppressive foot.

He didn’t need to face its domineering owner to know who was approaching. The sigh of heavy boots and ragged breaths. He’d come to know them well.

“I am guessing you did not come to congratulate me on getting out of the Hospital?” His voice was coarse, rusted form lack of use over these last 4 weeks. Those in his defence, he had spent the last 3 weeks asleep and the option to practice such activities had not been appealing this last week, despite his visitors who had shown no such hesitation.

“That’d be correct.” The voice replied, his usual grim tone clouding over.

He could picture the cowboy standing there in the snow. His thick brown jacket, heavy boots and purple scarf, no doubt pulled up high like his own. Yellow beady eyes, peering through the falling snow. The only thing which could penetrate it was the scar running through his left socket. Two lines were torn deep into the bone like a knife through a cloth, jagged edges jumping out at those who dared ask the question; How?

He held onto these images just a little longer. He didn’t want to face him: Judge, jury and executioner. Didn’t want to break the illusion, see the bullet, the disappointment, hate and pity which followed in his final moment. Not now, not from him. Not a reminder of how far he’d fallen. How much he had failed everyone. Them. Himself. Not now, not yet.

The judge let another ragged breath escaped into the wind, then spoke again, his voice still harsh, “We need to talk.”

He almost laughed: Predictable.

He’d imagined this meeting over the last week, dreaded it.

Each time he imagined this outcome, each time only worse. The path so far smiled in his favour, but was it actually kindness? Or the sympathy of fate while deciding which hand to deal him next?

“I expected you would say that. Maybe somewhere a little warmer? I know a suitable spot.”

- - - -

The change of scenery was nice. He had seen too much white: White walls, white snow, white dust. It all blended together after a while. Instead, the calm beat of rain sang out drowning these thoughts; drip, drop, plop. The soft squelch of moss beneath his shoes and cool blue glow of flora. A welcomed change.

He sat on the lone bench, once home to an abandoned quiche to which he believed was adopted by Frisk some months earlier during their last run. A last bid to make their wrongs right? He couldn’t help the bitter smile that came with the thought. They had been the same all along, hadn’t they?

“Alright, let's get this shit over with. I’ve got better things to be doing than dealing with the fucking mess ya’ve made me, bless yar heart.”

The judge; to whom he’d come to know as Apollo, Wayne or his more commonly called name: Justice, over the last 5 months was the same as always. Grumpy, ill-tempered and foul-mouthed. Not knowing better, you’d think it was any other ordinary day. Paperwork, lack of sleep or maybe Squirrel might have contributed to the slight dip in mood, but otherwise, you wouldn’t think different. He knew different. He knew it was his fault.

Justice had taken to standing in front of him. He’d pulled out a dictaphone, notepad and pen. Bad cop, good cop? No, there was only one of him. He didn’t see Sarge or Chara, so obviously he’d been decided as an ‘easy’ case to deal with. Even so, it didn’t feel much like an interrogation. For anyone else, Justice would tower over them like a mighty dictator, interjecting fear and obedience. Then like a master surgeon he would dissect them for his answers. For him, however, the same was hard to say. Even while slouching, his lanky body continued to meekly rise above the judge, even if by only a few centimetres.

The situation felt a little... uncomfortable, but not more than that.

The dictaphone clanks as Justice sat it down on the bench. A bone finger reached out and pressed ‘Record’.

That's it then. No more hiding, no more delays. The inedible was always going to happen. He could only stall for so long.

“Interview #597883. Interviewing S-"

“Hoshi”

His interruption was met with silence, annoyance and confusion. For this story, he is ‘Hoshi’.

Was.

“...Interviewing ‘Hoshi’.” Justice finished his annoyance still very present. Strike one, maybe?

“For future review, this interview will be documented. All information discussed will be kept confidential and on a need ta know bases with only those holding clearance.” The note pad was empty. Did he really know all this off the top of his head? How long had he been doing this?

“You will answer all questions given to you, with nothin’ but the truth and will not withhold any information regardless of its contents. Should ya be found to be lying or withholding anything, then all evidence for your case will be rendered void. Do you understand?”

Tap,

Tap.

Hoshi rushed into an answered upon noticing the impatient pen's rhythm upon the paper. “Yes...s-sir.”

“Justice'll do.”

The silence was his reply, a slight nod of the head.

“Look, I ain’t gonna sugar coat this for ya. You’re in some deep shit here and really fucked up. I don’t think I have ‘ta tell ya how serious the charges you’re looking at are.” He paused, taking a breath, or was it a sigh?

“Endangering the life of a Creator & leaking sensitive information regarding the Bar & it’s Patrons to an unknown 3rd party is pretty fuckin’ serious, and should’a already contributed to 4 accounts of sansicide on you’re head if it wasn’t for sheer fucking luck.”

“That being said,” He added after a moment,

“You did speak out about it and put your life on the line to take the brunt of the consequences (, even if a little late).” He mumbled the latter half, scowling down on the words as if their existence in that order should sentence them to a fate far worse than his own.

“While try’na throw your life away is fucking dumb and won’t fix what you’ve done...myself, Z-Stars and other agreed ya deserve a chance. As well as the numerous vouches towards your character we received, evidence collected would suggest possible fowl play to some extent. Whether this is true or not, I intend to find out.”

How had he gotten here? Everything was going so well. Everything was going according to plan. It was simple enough. Fool proof. 'Hoshi proof', Shadow had even teased him often enough. If any common fool could do it, he would be fine. He couldn't fail.

But still...

- - - - -

"Que se passera-t-il si cela ne fonctionne pas?"

("What shall happen if this does not work?") He asked. He'd felt the fear call at him through the fog of his mind. It's worrying pleas, he could barely make them out, but it seemed logical to respond to them. By responding to them, they would leave. He'd be alone again with the fog. The nothingness. It had grown on him, the emptiness inside.

"Je suppose que ça dépend de la façon beaucoup don't vous voulez rentrer à la maison, n'est-ce pas?"

("I guess it depends on how much you want to get home, doesn't it?") His Shadow replied, in broken french.

Unlike him, his Shadow wasn't native to his tongue. Despite this, however, Shadow had insisted they use his tongue to communicate. His language was less common than English. It meant they had more privacy, 3.29 times more to be precise, and as a bonus, their target also didn't speak it.

"Tu t'inquiètes trop. Je serai là si tu gâches. Maintenant préparez-vous, ça ne devrait pas être trop long maintenant."

("You worry too much. I'll be there if you mess up. Now get ready, it shouldn't be too long now.") Where was he now then? Why wasn't he by his side? Whispering flattery... advice... encouragement...like he'd always done. Telling him how stupid and pathetic he was, how he couldn't do anything, wouldn't be anything.

Apart of him wished he could tell him he was right... again.

"D-d'accord. Merci mon amie."

("O-ok. Thank you my friend.")

- - - - -

A hand waved in front of him, ending its journey with a flick on his nose. He blinked hard twice looking up and meeting the angry gaze. Ah right, he was still here.

“You’ve got one chance ‘Hoshi’. The truth or I can make a start on locking yar ass up for eternity so I can get some brain bleach and drink the rest of this fucking nightmare away.”

"..."

“Choice’s yar’s really, but ya should know a lot’a folks stepped forward to vouch for ya. It’d be a shame to reject their forgiveness ‘cause it ain’t often you make friends like ‘em who’re willing ta stick by your side no matter what.”

It took a moment for Hoshi to find the right words. He’d know his decision since he’d first awakened.

“Where would you like me to start?”

A weight placed its self upon his shoulder: a hand. It stayed for a moment, lifting and coming back down with a pat. The judge had a smile projected onto his face, it couldn’t have been his own. In all the time he’d know him, he’d never truly smiled (unless sarcastic of course). Maybe he was seeing things? After all his left eye was still tucked away under bandages, deemed too damaged to face the elements.

“That’s the spirit, boy.” No, the smile was real.

He let his eye drift upwards, meeting Justice's almost unnatural gaze. Too kind and gentle, too out of character. If anything, the uncanny expression on his face made him feel even more uncomfortable than the whole integration.

The weight removed it’s self completely,

“The begging. Include all the details ya can remember. We need ta know who we’re fuckin’ deal with cause whoever these folks are, they’ve already made it pretty fuckin’ obvious they mean business.”

“I-I...I am sorry.”

“I know.”

They remained in silence for a minute, nothing more could be said: The damage has been done. All they could do now was pick up the pieces and hope there was enough glue left to save the situation from shattering further.

“Let’s make a start kid, somehow I doubt this’ll be quick.” He flipped his pen around. It stood at attention, ready to follow his every command.

“O-ok.”

This is it, then: the true story.

It was so long ago, so many things had happened since then. Could he even remember how it started? How it happen? But then again, the better question was how much would he let himself remember? He’d tried so hard to bury it, pretend the illusion was real, fight back the pain, the tears, late at night when white lies clawed at him. Slowly digging themselves up from the shallow graves he’d hastily buried them in.

He preferred the illusion. It had a happy ending.

Was going to, at least...

Was heading that way before the events of one month ago.

The incident.

His ultimate failure.

His betrayal...

He smiled meekly, he...he was a terrible person. He knew that much was certin. No.

A mess, not a person. A mess of lies, illusions and shredded memories. That was a different story, however. Maybe he would get to tell that story one day too. But till then... this is the story of Hoshi, Sans.

His story.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Cover & Chapter 1 art

[TOSD] How Villians Sleep At Night by me

Justice Sans by Vangold

#justice #sans #undertale #undertaleau #hoshi #story #litrature #storywritting #waterfall #past #incident #6monthdeal #creatorandcreation #talesofstardust

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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I call it magic when I'm with you |Jake x Amy|

So for my b99 Fall Fic Exchange 2019 I got to write for my fave @amyscascadingtabs and got these 3 prompts to inspire my story:

Halloween costume parties

Baking together (could be something Halloween-related or general fall coziness)

Peraltiago kids celebrating Halloween

I decided to combine all 3 of them (somewhat? I mean there’s no party but there’s the mention of costumes) with a main focus on nr. 2. Hope you like it even though I finished it so last minute and it’s kinda not what you asked for... I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened. Started out good and next thing you know there’s Harry Potter sexy times going down... Anyways happy Halloween and fall-season to you, Johanna and everyone else on here. You’re sweetheart and I hope you still enjoy it though my take on your prompts is... alternative.

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The sound of crunching leaves beneath her feet secretly provoked a happy, giddy feeling in Amy’s stomach and an extra pep in her walk as she made her way back from the deli down the street from their apartment. It was the day before Halloween, a Friday, and this just so happened to be her and Jake’s weekly common day off which had lead to the purpose behind her trip to the deli: Instead of simply handing out candy, the sergeant was going to (see: try to) bake cute Halloween-themed cookies for the cause. Today was truly a day of mysterious events. Not only was Amy Bad-at-anything-culinary Santiago-Peralta going to bake for innocent kids who didn’t know any better than to politely accept her cookies… She had also willingly gone grocery shopping and everyone knew that she far from handled anything colder than 60 degrees very gracefully. Yet Amy couldn’t help but smile just a bit as a fresh breeze played with both her hair and dead leaves in various shades of red, orange and yellow.

Also extra plump from all the unconscious smiling, her husband couldn’t help but notice the extra bright pink shade of her cheeks when she finally walked in the door with a stuffed paper bag.

“Not too cold?” He hurriedly made his way from the living room to where she was standing by the door to grab the paper bag from her grip.

“A bit,” she shrugged off her coat before putting it away along with her shoes. “But also kind of nice. Refreshing even.”

A scoff could be heard from kitchen the room where Jake was now in the midst of putting down the heavy bag and its content. “Amy Santiago enjoying the cold? Must be a lie.”

“Perhaps adding Peralta to my name changed me for the better,” was mumbled into Jake’s left ear suddenly, letting a tiny giddy shock run through him as an effect from feeling her arms wrap around his waist from behind him. Not that he minded one bit but he hadn’t noticed her making her way from the door to him. Instantly in a reaction to the pleasent surprise, a smile grew on his face and though she couldn’t see his face, it didn’t take much more than the slight change in the tone of his voice to tell her that he was smiling.

“Well… ” the affectionate touch had quickly captured Jake’s full attention causing him to stop his dutiful process of unpacking the groceries onto the counter as to allow himself to turn around in her grip on him to look at her. Their nose-tips briefly brushed across each other, bubbling chuckles dancing from their lips, accompanying their stupidly happy grins. There was barely what could be called space between them. A tiny readjustment was all it would take for them to get that loving lock of lips they always craved. Indeed Jake was in the midst of leaning in to kiss his wife whilst mumbling, “Guess I’m the best thing that has ever happened to you then-“ when a loud wail interrupted their little moment, this bursting their otherwise bulletproof bubble, just as their lips were about to come together and he’d just barely been able to sense that his wife’s lips were still cold from her trip to the deli. A sigh was the only thing Amy got to feel, not at all as satisfying but nonetheless replacing the kiss, before she drew back to shoot him an apologetic yet slightly amused smile.

Jake returned the exact same look. “Did you tell her to do that?”

In a split second Amy’s cheeky apologetic blush switched to a look of defence followed by a playful punch to his shoulder. “How dare you!”

Seriousness being a rare matter it all of course just earned her a soft laugh from Jake who put his hands in the air in what was supposed to look innocence as he slowly backed away from the kitchen towards the hall. “I’m just saying… She’s been napping peacefully ever since I put her down before you left for the deli so it seems rather suspicious that she just now, all of the sudd-“

“Shut up, Peralta,” she scowled picking up on where he’d left off unpacking the groceries, “… and feel free to collect your daughter since you two seem to be ganging up and framing me.”

Though she was clearly messing with him there was no way she’d have to tell him twice; apart from Amy, their new barely 3-month old daughter was Jake’s favorite human and every second with her, wailing furiously or making happy gurgling-sounds, was precious. Still, even after a few months into fatherhood, her daughter was even better and more perfect than he’d ever dared to expect. Actually he never actually knew what to expect since he was so damn scared, but Marcy was incredible. It felt amazingly incredible to not be able to imagine a life without someone that you used to not be able to imagine your life with.

“Hey, Marcipan,” he cooed as he carefully pushed open the door to the infants little, pastel yellow painted room. The little girl of course didn’t answer but simply let out another wail as to call out for someone’s (preferably mom or dad’s) attention.

“Shhh,” he shushed her calmly all while safely leaning down over her bassinet to cradle her tiny body his warm hands. Within seconds, making sure to be careful with the tiny human still as fragile as porcelain, his daughter was safely cradled in his arms and a warmth that had come to grow very familiar spread within him. “What do you say we go help mom bake some cookies, huh?”

He pecked Marcy’s forehead before slowly making his way out the room and down the short hall before continuing the one-sided conversation. “Just between the two of us, we have no choice but to help her,” there was a truth in the words that provoked a chuckle from the father’s own lips. “If we don’t she’s gonna burn the place down and we’ll have to spend Halloween in the streets. Your mom might be tough enough for that but I sure as hell am not.” Whether is was on purpose or not, his sentence ended as he rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“I heard that, you know…” His wife currently had her back turned to them, hands working on something on the kitchen counter and allowing Jake to admire the long, shiny pony tail flowing down her back. Pony tail meant serious business in the book of Amy Peralta-Santiago.

“Just being honest with her, honey.”

There was barely any time for her to react before she felt his figure’s presence besides her, presenting her her now awake and curiously observing daughter. A smile instantly appeared on the mother’s face, her hands interrupting whatever she was doing.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed sweetly ahead of bowing down to place a kiss, similarly to how Jake had just seconds ago, to her daughter’s soft forehead. “Did you nap well while mommy was gone? Or did you just spend the entire time plotting against me with your father?”

“Oh mommy, me and dad would never be mean to you,” Jake spoke in a high-pitched, phony voice as to take on his daughter’s role.

Amy straightened back up to take in the funny sight of her husband’s parody with one hand on her now popped hip and a suspiciously cocked eyebrow. Though there was no way she was actually mad at him, this kind of banter was a Peralta-Santiago trademark. Not a day went by without it and Jake incorporating their newborn daughter was definitely to his advantage.

“Hm,” she turned back to what appeared to be a bowl with mixed ingredients. “I don’t know if I believe you two…”

“Please believe us, mommy,” Jake continued his little sketch, following Amy’s movement away from them trying to close the remaining distance between them. “I napped really well and daddy just sat there thinking about how much he loves you and how he can’t wait to see you wearing that sexy Hermione costume he bought-”

Upon hearing those last few words slipping off her husband’s lips (her husband who was currently holding their tiny daughter in their arms!!) Amy’s head snapped back to him and away from where it was looking at what was slowly but somewhat surely becoming cookie dough. “Jake!” Though his wife’s eyes would forever and always be the most beautiful, soothing and perfect brown pair, for a second right there in that moment, he feared them and the threatening daggers they shot. “Don’t say stuff like that in front of Marcy!”

“Babe, she’s a baby,” he chuckled warmly to his defence, leaning in before tenderly placing kiss to his wife’s cheek followed by replacing them directly onto her ear so that his breathy whisper could hopefully cause shivers to run down her spine. “I could add so many more details about what you and I do when she’s asleep and she wouldn’t understand a thing.”

One side of Amy, the one that did quiver beneath the feeling of his whisper into her ear, wanted to give in to the tension her husband had managed to sneak into an otherwise very innocent and domestic moment. Yet her contradicting side, the one that was eyeing their tiny daughter safely cuddled up in his arms, managed to fight her urge. Yes, it was a fact that the otherwise incredible arrival of their daughter had kept them from any particularly intimate activities. Whenever Marcy happened to somewhat sleep through the night the two exhausted parents made sure to use every precious second to catch up on the constant state of lacking sleep that they currently lived in. Yet she couldn’t get herself to act on her urges right in front of the tiny, innocent human.

“Jake…” Amy’s vocal chords barely managed to generate a mumble with a longing quiver as she fought the fight between giving in to the side of her that was simply a craving human and the side that was a parent.

Deep down she knew that they couldn’t go any further - at least not right now when her baby’s beautiful, innocent face was looking right at her. Nonetheless she couldn’t break the spell without allowing herself to give into the intrigue that her husband’s familiar lips waiting expectingly against her ear brought to life within her. There barely even time to acknowledge the movement before her neck and head had twisted just enough in his direction for her ear to be replaced by her lips. Years later and he still made her feel like a bubbleheaded love-sick teen.

“I know she’s a baby…” Amy whispered into the merge of their moving lips, somehow managing to keep up with Jake’s lips that happened to be persuasive as ever in the act of pursue this rush of affection for his wife. “… But we need to behave.”

“Uhummm,” as carefree as he was known to be, there was no way the mumble meant Jake planned on stopping. Itself the fact that he’d been able to keep Amy going, partially against her morals, for this long was a tiny victory that sparked the teasing competitive within him that he loved almost as much as her.

Though Amy kept telling herself that she was indeed about to break it up, Marcy letting out a tiny squeal beat her to it. The two enamoured adults quickly broke the embrace both instantly redirecting their wild gazes down at their fussy daughter. Both had to let out a small chuckle meanwhile Marcy looked anything but pleased by her parents’ lack of immersion in her presence.

“We pissed her off,” Jake joked before taking a step back from his position previously glued to his wife, allowing room to gently rock the infant which instantly reacted by quieting down. Still by the kitchen counter and having learned quite early into their new role as parents that Jake was very much capable of handling their daughter’s small tantrums on his own, Amy had resumed to the process of her Halloween cookie-experiment (Amy doing anything in the kitchen was an experiment, Jake had learned a long time ago).

“She’s tired of her dad being so obsessed with her mother instead of her.”

Jake could hear the smirk in her voice as she shuffled across the tiny kitchen to turn on the oven for her.

“That must be a big misunderstanding then,” he carefully repositioned the tiny human. Instead of cradling her carefully he was now holding her by the armpits, Lion King-stylez, facing him as he raised his arms to hold her at his eye level. “Isn’t that right, Marcipan?” He kissed his daughters forehead tenderly before holding her back out to look into her eyes. “You and I both know that you’re my favorite, don’t we?” his voice immediately indulged in his daughter’s universe, mushy and goofy, only adding sweetness to the sight of him simultaneously nuzzling her tiny with his big nose.

Moments like these could only kindle a varm feeling in every corner of Amy’s body.

Since things were going so well for them she rarely gave it any thought, but in moments like this specific one it suddenly hit her that at some point Jake actually doubted his abilities as a parent. Yet here was, goofing around with their child like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Amy could only burst with pride at the sight. Not only had she witnessed Jake picking a tough battle in order to disobey the voices in his head telling him that there was no way he could be a better father than his own was; now she was also witnessing him, on a daily basis, being what she could only consider as being the most loving, dedicated and hard-working father to their daughter.

“I’m okay with that,” Amy smirked, making her way to the fridge to put the dough to rest. Jake’s eyes followed her, staying attentive for many reasons, as he carefully placed his daughter back into a cradled position in his arms. There was no way he was going to be let off with being right; something was coming to shut him up and all he could do was observe, wait patiently for his witty wife to pull out the last trick hidden up her sleeve. Her every move was noted.

Slowly closing the fridge was step one. The movement wasn’t exactly slow enough to seem suspicious, like it was leading to something else, but what happened afterwards or better known as step two would definitely blow his mind.

“… cause at the end of the day, as soon as I put on that costume… I’ll be your favorite.” Just in time to match her reaching the end of her venomous sentence, Amy tantalisingly turned around (right on that very same spot by the now closed fridge) and like a dagger stabbing him in his hopelessly devoted heart her deep, her brown eyes told him everything he needed to know. As so many times before she was more than right - and as so many times before he didn’t mind one bit. If she wasn’t smirking before (which she was) then she definitely was now and it was driving Jake crazy which with the biggest guarantee in the world she immensely enjoyed. Amy Santiago-Peralta had driven him crazy with great, legendary purpose for the past 11 years and by the looks of it she wasn’t planning on stopping; yet another fact Jake didn’t mind one bit.

He especially didn’t mind later that evening, after saving five entire batches of cookies from burning, when Marcy decided to stay asleep and his wife suddenly walked into their bedroom clad in a what Hogwarts would definitely define as a scandalous outfit: a way too revealing school girl outfit (if you asked Hogwarts - not Jake), red knee-socks and tie, only to be topped off with a magic wand. Needless to say that Jake, who’d quietly been sitting in bed on his phone playing Candy Crush (such a dad) dropped his jaw through their bedroom floor right at that very moment. Ambushed was not the word; this was so much worse (better).

“Hey, babe…” She smiled teasingly, posing by the end of the bed well knowing that she hypothetically could say or do nothing at all and it would still drive Jake insane. But where was the fun in that?

“Wanna explore my chamber of secrets?”

His reaction to those words, to her brief dismay, reminded her of Scully’s famous heart attacks. “Oh my God, Amy,” he basically gasped for air and Amy loved it as she took her time making her way around the bed before straddling him with the dopiest yet sexiest grin on her face.

“Jake Peralta!” She gasped playfully. “Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

And though he loved his daughter more than anything in the world, he prayed that tonight would be the night Marcy Santiago-Peralta would make him proud and sleep soundly.

“Guilty as charged…” He returned the grin, having finally returned from his stroke-like state, only to put his phone aside to slide his hands all the way up her thigh to her waist, burying them under her robe to pick at the edge of her skirt. Amy Peralta-Santiago-Granger… You’ve definitely got me under your spell for the night.”

#b99 fall 2019 fic exchange #b99 fic #peraltiago fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #amy santiago #jake peralta #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #fanficition

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jae-in-a-trenchcoat · 5 years

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IT fic exchange

Here’s my fic for @notafightr who did an amazing fic for me! It was so good I feel bad giving them this piece of garbage

No warnings

Richie was never one for being able to express his feelings. It didn't matter if it was how he was feeling about a situation or how he felt about a person, it was just so hard for Richie to let people know how he was really feeling. Weirdly it didn't come from the environment he grew up in, it developed from Richie as a kid wanting his friends to see him as a tough man (even though he was only 7 when this began). Richie bottling up his feelings led to him being unable to read the mood of a situation and making stupid jokes basically 24/7. So when he started to grow up and find himself developing a crush on his best friend Eddie Kaspbrak, life became more complicated for Richie. What made it worse is that at the ripe old age of 16, while Richie waited for Maggie (his mom) to pick him up, Eddie fucking Kaspbrak was standing next to him asking a question never expected to come out of the smaller boy's mouth.

"Will you be my fake boyfriend?" Eddie asked out of the blue on this slightly cold day. Richie, who was leaning against the bike rack, felt his hand slip off the metal pole and he nearly fell face first on the ground. Luckily he was able to catch himself before letting that end in disaster. Eddie tried to stifle back his laughter as the taller boy tried to recover.

"I'm sorry what?" Richie choked out. Eddie bit his lip.

"Will you be my fake boyfriend," he repeated, softer than the first time. Even after saying it twice, Richie was unable to comprehend what Eddie was saying. His crush, his love of his life, was asking him to fake date him? Richie didn't need to ask why. It was to make Eddie's crush jealous. His name was Jake: he had the brightest green eyes that were hard not to get lost in, auburn hair, he was apart of the debate team and he was WAY too nice. Richie knew he could never compete and, even though it kinda hurt him, he just let Eddie try and go after Jake.

"Eds I don't know that seems more stupid than your mom," Richie snorted. Eddie stared at him with with his big adorable eyes.

"I'm being serious ‘Chee," Eddie said. "I-I wanna do this." He took both of Richie's hands into his. Richie felt his cheeks heat up. He could barely feel his body . This was a hard decision to make but it didn't look like Eddie was gonna give him time to decide. Richie would never admit that this would hurt him, even if he wanted to it would come out as jumbled and not clear.

If I do this I'd be able to spend more time with him though. He pulled his own hands away from Eddie's.

"I guess I could, but don't go developing feelings for me spaghetti man." Eddie let out a little laugh.

"Keep holding your breath trashmouth." The two shared a chuckle before Richie noticed his mom's car pulling up.

"Gotta go Eds, see ya tomorrow!" He exclaimed with a salute, before starting to move towards his mom's car. RIchie swung open the car door open and climbed into the passenger seat, accidentally knocking Maggie's coffee out of the cup holder in the process.

"C'mon Richard you've got to stop knocking over my coffee whenever you get into the car," she sighed.

"Sorry ma." Maggie shook her head with a smile. As Richie turned around to sit properly into the seat, he caught a glimpse of Eddie biting his lip but thought that he was just trying to stop himself from yelling 'Don't call me Eds!"

Bev tugged at the elastic band around her wrist, fuming.

"Son of a bitch," Bev muttered under her breath as she aggressively picked up the fake money and basically threw it across the coffee table. Opposite her was Stan who couldn't help but let a smirk form on his lips.

"Well sorry for properly investing my money instead of just buying random shit," he said with some sass. She rolled her eyes, annoyed with Stan's smart ass.

"It's monopoly Stan, not real life," she snapped back. Grabbing the dice Bev got ready to roll, until the front door flew open with so much force it could've come off its hinges. Richie stood there panting and out of breath.

"Guys, guys I've got a massive problem," he managed to get out between heavy breaths. The dice took a detour and rolled off the table and under the couch. Bev turned and gave Richie a death glare.

"Whatever it is, it better be fucking important," she growled. Richie averted his gaze to Stan, mouthing a 'what is going on with her?'. He mouthed back 'monopoly' before looking back at an angry Bev. Richie understood completely, it was basically what happened every Friday. The three went to Bev's aunt's house every Friday after school and played some board game lying around, Richie always got dropped off late and (almost) always walked into Stan whooping Bev at the board game chosen and Bev being a sore loser. Today though, he didn't feel like playing Monopoly. All he wanted to do was (try to) let out everything he was feeling about this whole 'fake dating situation', not play some stupid board game. Richie flopped onto the armchair dramatically with a loud sigh, his long legs dangling over the arm of the chair

"Well Richard what is so important you had to interrupt our game?" Stan asked. Richie adjusted himself so that he was sitting upright, though he found the other position much more comfortable.

“Well here it is Stan the man,” Richie began. As he explained his dilemma, the two listened carefully. Richie found he was the most comfortable telling Stan and Beverly his problems no matter how uneasy his insides felt. They were a trio that helped each other out. The three musketeers Richie would call the trio, even if Stan hated it with every bone in his body.

“Well how do you feel about the situation?” Stan asked. Richie opened his mouth to speak, then quickly snapping it shut. He tried finding the right words to say, any words at that point, but his mind was as blank as his page while writing an essay. C’mon it isn’t that hard Richie, for fucks sake say something! Nothing came out except a long stuttered mess of a sentence. Bev gestured for the raven haired boy to scoot over as best he could. As he did, she squeezed into the tight space and swung an arm around Richie’s shoulders. He turned his head so that he could see Bev’s much softer expression.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, we know how hard it is for you to talk about this sort of stuff,” Bev reassured. She then turned her head to face Stan. “Don’t we Stanley?” Stan threw his hands up in defence.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were my mother.” Richie watched as they bickered back and forth and let out an inaudible sigh of relief. It gave him the comfort of knowing that there was at least something was still normal and not messed up. Richie pushed himself off the armchair, causing Bev to fall to her side.

“Red, Stan the man, please save that for the ring,” he said with a presenter voice. Bev rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname.

“Shut up Richie,” Stan groaned. Richie snickered at their reactions. He knew he’d have to enjoy today because he had a feeling that after today, everything was going to be different and it would never go back to being the same. Ever. He helped Bev get the dice from under the couch with his long, lanky arms and sat down around the coffee table, deciding to let his two friends finish their game before joining in. The game didn’t last very long, Bev went bankrupt in 10 minutes and, although Stan just sat there with a small smirk, it was clear to Richie that he was enjoying his win against Bev very much. He had known Stan for so long and knew how to read basically every facial expression of his. Bev angrily cleaned the board so that they could play another game. As the new game progressed, Richie felt his heart slowly sink to the bottom of his chest.

This is it, this is my last day before my world turns to hell.

Derry High’s hallway bustled with teenagers as they all tried to get from one place to another, either to their locker, friends or next class. Richie used all his might his lanky body had to push through the crowd.

“ Please, ‘scuse me, coming through trynna find my Eddie spaghetti!” Richie shouted over the noise. People gave him looks of confusion and but he didn’t care. He finally saw the short, adorable boy leaning against his locker, foot impatiently tapping against the floor. Richie’s breath hitched. He was wearing a pale blue sweater that was definitely a bit large and those damn red shorts. Richie shook away his feelings before putting on a goofy smile and striding towards Eddie.

“Heyo Spaghetti-o,” Richie leaned against the locker next to Eddie. The smaller boy let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck! I thought you weren’t gonna show,” Eddie punched Richie’s arm harshly. Not enough that it would bruise but enough for it to hurt. He rubbed his arm and gave Eddie a fake pout.

“Of course I would, you didn’t have to punch me so hard for being-,” He quickly checked his watch. “2 minutes late.” Eddie lowered his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. It was as if something punched Richie in the heart. Something about seeing Eddie look so vulnerable did something that, really, no one else could do. Make him feel like his world had been shattered into a million piece. He gently grabbed Eddie’s chin with his forefinger and thumb and lifted it gently. Looking into his deep brown eyes made it hard to focus on anything else going on around him. He could tell that Eddie felt the same way, except Richie brushed it off as Eddie trying to make their relationship believable. Both their breathing started to become like small pants.

“No need to apologise,” Richie breathed. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jake staring curiously at them. Richie took this as a perfect opportunity to make a move and help Eddie achieve his goal. He swiftly pecked Eddie’s surprisingly soft lips. His body tingled with warmth. The feeling was hard to describe but Richie knew it was a good one. Eddie stared at Richie with wide eyes and red cheeks, redder than Richie had ever seen them before. For a second he thought he had made a mistake from the look on the shorter one’s face.

“I-I’m so sorry Eds I just saw Jake and-,” he was cut off when he was pulled into a much deeper kiss. Richie’s hands snaked around Eddie’s waist and he pulled him closer. Neither of them cared that there was a crowd, neither of them really realised there was a crowd. Richie didn’t want the moment to end. Unfortunately he had to pull away for air. His eyes darted up and down Eddie’s body, which was shaking slightly from adrenaline. The crowd of students stood there for a second staring before quickly dispersed and revealing the rest of the losers standing there.

“So, you two finally got together?” Mike asked.

I guess Eddie didn’t tell the others we were fake dating

He looked at his ‘boyfriend’ to see if Eddie wanted to say anything. He vigorously shook his head no. Richie was a little hurt that he didn’t want to tell their closest friends but he wasn’t going to show that.

“Right you are Mike-o,” Richie nodded. After a bunch of congratulations and a few pats on the back (mostly from Mike), Bev sent Richie a look. It was a look of ‘don’t fuck this up or everything will be ruined.’ Richie nodded his head slightly so that only she could see. He turned around to ask Eddie a question but he was gone. He glanced around and caught him talking, more like laughing, with Jake. Richie knew this was fake, knew he shouldn’t fall for Eddie more, but seeing him with the person that started this really crushed him. Something washed over Richie that caused his brain to basically shut down. Without realising he was already behind Eddie, arms wrapped around his waist and head nuzzled into his neck. Jake ran a hair through his hair and smiled.

“Sorry didn’t mean to take you away from your boyfriend,” Jake chuckled. “I’ll see you around Eds.” The aurburn walked off down the hallway, leaving the two.

“Bye Jake!” Eddie called out, giving a little wave. Jake turned around with a charming smile and a wave too. He let out a love filled sigh, then escaped Richie’s grasp and looked at him with rage in his eyes.

“‘Chee I was making progress!” he groaned.

“Sorry it’s just-,”

“Just what? What Chee?”

“I wanted to make our relationship believable.” Richie would’ve confessed his love for Eddie right there but he bit his tongue and held back.

“Well thanks I guess,” Eddie sighed. “I gotta get to class.” He stood on his tippy toes and kissed Richie on the cheek. Walking off, Richie was stuck there alone. He knew he’d fucked up. Literally doing the opposite that Bev ‘told’ him not to do.

2 months had passed and Richie couldn’t be more crushed inside. It was like the universe was teasing him. Every passing day spent with Eddie was torture. They were growing closer as friends, Eddie would say. They held hands everywhere they went, small little kisses, passionate ones too. while they were out in public and the smaller boy started sitting in the taller boy’s lap either at lunch or when they went to the diner. He hadn’t told anyone, but he was falling for Eddie harder than if he were to fall off a building. Jake had started warming up to Eddie though and Richie knew that their fake relationship would be ending soon, as the brunette had planned how they were gonna break up. Yet he didn’t want that to come. He couldn’t tell anyone what he was feeling, either he’d mess up his words or everyone would tell him that he shouldn’t have agreed if he knew he liked Eddie. Eddie eventually told the rest of the losers, a little angry that Richie didn’t tell him that Stan and Bev already knew but all anger washed away when he gave Eddie an apology kiss. Richie had woken up that day with a knot in his stomach. He had almost forgotten about the losers sleeping over that night, that is until he rolled out of bed and accidentally stepped on Stan’s hair. His shriek woke up all the other losers. The knot in his stomach quickly disappeared. Richie noticed that neither Bill nor Eddie were in the room.

“Where’s Big Bill and Eds?” Richie questioned. Stan sat up, rubbing his scalp to try and stop the stinging.

“I thought my boyfriend told you to stop calling him Big Bill.” Stan grunted. Richie shrugged with a smirk.

“I think they went to the kitchen,” Ben said groggily, pulling Bev a little closer to his chest in the sleeping bag.

“Thanks haystack!” Richie did some finger guns before making his way out his bedroom door. He let his legs take in control as he descended down the stairs, the sick feeling slowly coming back to him. Richie heard soft voices coming from the kitchen and immediately recognised them as Bill and Eddie’s. As he approached the kitchen door, he stopped right in his tracks when he heard Eddie say something never thought possible.

“I think I actually like him.” It was muffled but Richie heard it loud and clear. As quiet as possible, he scurried to the door and held his ear to it.

“T-t-trashmouth?”

“No Bill, another Richie. Yes Trashmouth!”

“W-w-what about J-J-Jake?” He heard the clink of a mug hitting the bench.

“I guess I didn’t really like Jake. You know I had a crush on Richie in 7th grade and spending all that time with him I realised that I still like him.” There was a brief silence. “Scratch that, I love him.” Richie’s body nearly turned to jelly.

Eddie just said he loves me.

The door started to creak open slowly and by the time he realised, it was too late. He fell onto the floor face first. He groaned both in pain and embarrassment. Eddie squealed.

“Chee! What are you doing here? How much did you hear? Are you okay?” Eddie asked in a panic. Bill leapt off the counter and quickly rushed to his side to help him up, Eddie staying on the counter. Richie stoop up and dusted off the non existent dirt on him.

“I’m fine,” Richie reassured. “Just a little tumble was all.” Richie took a couple of steps forward so that he was next to the island bench. No one in the room dared to make a sound, it’s as if someone who made a noise would ruin the moment. Richie took more steps forward until he was in front of Eddie. He stood there for a second, just taking in the way the brunette looked so cute just sitting on the bench. Richie felt his heart beat faster at the sight. He leaned in and smashed their lips together. Eddie immediately leaned into the kiss, enjoying how this kiss really meant something and it wasn’t just for show. Richie pulled away painfully slow.

“I’m guessing you heard a lot,” Eddie said sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Look, I’m not good at-at feelings basically so this is hard for me to say. I love you, I have ever since we met in grade school. I guess I never had the courage to tell you how I was really feeling and I regretted it so much because knowing you liked someone who wasn’t me, well it really hurt. Just the thought of losing you to Jake even if we weren’t together, made me get all weird and caused a lot of mixed emotions. I guess what I’m trying to say is I wanna be with you, I wanna be your actual boyfriend. Only if you wanna-.”

“Shut up trashmouth.” Eddie pulled Richie into another kiss, giving him the answer he wanted. Their lips stayed connected until Bill cleared his throat.

“G-get a room,” Bill laughed. Richie chuckled before pulling his now real boyfriend in for another kiss.

Not how I expected to start my morning. Definitely much better though.

Sorry that I didn’t do a better job but I hope you like it 🙂

#it 2017 #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stenbrough #stanley uris #bill denbrough #benverly #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #original character #losers club #it 2019 #fic exchange #it chapter 2

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theasstour · 5 years

Photo

Stave Two: The First of the Three Spirits.

STORY PAGE Word count: 8k

WARNING!: THIS PIECE OF WRITING CONTAINS MENTIONS OF CHARACTER DEATHS AND MENTIONS OF VERBAL ABUSE. READER DISCREATION IS ADVISED.

When Harry awoke in his chair, it was so dark, that looking out across the room, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber. His dinner was cold beside him, the steam that had risen from his microwaveable food 40 minutes ago gone with the time Harry had spent asleep. The fire in the fireplace had nearly gone out, so Harry got up and put another log on, noticing how a faint breath vapour left his slightly parted mouth, and he instantly felt the coldness of his bedroom ice its way into his fingers. He crossed his arms over his chest, focusing on the flame before him, willing it to rise and warm him and his room up. In the distance, through his closed window, he could hear the peaceful song of church bells, calling upon Christmas Eve through a harmonious lullaby that settled over snowy London like a warm duvet.

Harry didn’t think much of the church bells, being used to them ringing every now and then, sometimes longer than he’d like them to, but he wouldn’t rip his hair out. But, looking up at the clock above his fireplace, Harry thought for a second that he might. Thee words of Niall’s ghost rang in his ears, making him paralysed with fear, and he suddenly remembered where he was and what had happened prior that night.

“If this scares you, you’re going to piss yourself when the three spirits of Christmas arrive in an hour.”

That had been 16:00. And as the last strike of five o’clock rang through Chelsea, Harry didn’t know what to expect. Niall hadn’t told him anything that would happen, only that he thought Harry had been miserable for years, which, to Harry’s defence, he had been because there were loads of reason to be miserable. Besides, how many annoying people could you meet in one day without snapping at least twice? Harry shook his head, not wanting to think about all of this, and instead focused on the fire before him. But not for long. Along the small fissure as the bottom of his bedroom door, there was a light. Harry knew that the only light in his whole house that he was responsible for was the one of the fireplace, so whatever light was on out in the hallway must have turned on my itself. The light got brighter and brighter, the warm yellow resembling the pleasant glow of a candle, and Harry started to grow very curious as to what was going on. About to get up and check for himself, the light stops moving, streaks of gold crawling in through the bottom of the door.

With huge force, the door flew open. Harry, about to scream so loudly his lungs might have fallen out his throat, jumped up. Facing the door, he backed away, shielding his eyes from the tortuous light. The light was so bright it brought a ringing to his ears, and he shut his eyes hard. Hitting the wall, Harry laid a hand flat against it, groaning before he tried to see what stood in his doorway. It is impossible. He cannot even make out his own room. It is as though it has disappeared from around him, the light burning everything in its wake.

“It’s okay.” A very familiar voice says. “I will put the cap on for you.”

As the light dimmed, Harry removed his arm from in front of his eyes, blinking a few times while doing so. His eyes sting, but they slowly adjust to their surroundings. But Harry had a hard time believing he 100% did. Because in front of him, in the doorway to his bedroom, stood a 7-year-old replica of himself. In his school uniform, arms behind his back patiently, and a huge candle cap on his head. The faint hum of fire came from under his cap, clearly not going out completely even with it on. Harry found himself just staring at what was in front of him, utterly dumbfounded. This looked exactly like him.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled to himself, studying, what he could only assume, was the first spirit of Christmas in front of him.

“Niall said that was your favourite word.” Little Harry said, smile not wavering.

“What is?”

“That which you just said.”

Harry could not stop staring. Could not stop studying whatever was stood in front of him because he could not quite believe it still. He was completely mesmerised by the little version of him standing in front of him. Squinting a little, Harry took a small step forward, trying to get a better look.

“Who and what are you?” He asked, voice faint like a distant whisper.

“I am the ghost of Christmas Past.”

Suddenly, Past twitches as if a wind had blown through a candlelit flame, threatening to whistle it out. Harry frowned, standing up straight and blinking before he opened his eyes completely, taking in the little bloke.

“Long past?” Harry questioned, noticing how the flames in the fireplace was reaching for the ghost, like they were yearning to be part of the fire underneath his cap.

“Your past.”

It hit Harry then, why the ghost had taken the form of him. Though it still did not sit well with him that he was talking to the ghost of himself, the ghost of his past. Silence stretched out between the two, filling the room to the brim. Suddenly, Past took a step toward Harry, holding his hand out.

“What are you doing?”

But the ghost did not answer him, only took his hand and held it tight in his. Up close, the ghost’s whole body seemed to glimmer like a real candle; seemed to glitter of the Christmases of Harry’s past. Regardless, Harry flinched when the ghost took his hand, no weight to Past whatsoever, only the ominous feeling of a hand in his that he could not feel apart from the pressure of where a hand should’ve been. The ghost was air, his hand like vapour, but Harry could still feel the mass of a hand there, just not the heft of it. It was uncanny; sending a chill up his spine that shook through him. Past dragged Harry away from the wall, surprising Harry when he took flight. He positioned himself so that his face was level with Harry’s, and Harry had no doubt in his mind from then on out that this was all real. The ghost was him, the details of his old self’s face was strikingly correct, even the small scar under his right eye. Swiftly and gently, the ghost laid a hand over Harry’s heart. Harry was about to step back, terrified of what the ghost was going to do, but then he felt a warmth unlike any other he had felt all his life. Like wrapping your cold hands around a hot mug, your fingers prickling to life; the same sensation ran from Harry’s heart and out across his entire body. Under his white tucked-in shirt, black trousers and formal boots, Harry’s body was lighting up, much like the ghosts’. He blinked.

“Come along.” Past said, flying towards the window of the bedroom while Harry followed stumbling. “And walk with me.”

As they near the window, it opens on its own accord, and Harry hesitates, the night outside threatening and vast.

“Where are we going?”

“To your past.”

Bewildered, Harry uttered a slight, “How are we getting there?”

“We will fly.”

“I can’t bloody fly.”

The ghost’s hand caressed Harry’s chest once again, letting its fingers slide over his heart lightly. “And exactly what do you think I’m here for?” Past said, voice as comforting as entering a warm living room on a chilly winter’s night. “Why do you think your body is glowing as if, at its core, a candle is afire?”

Harry moved his face back from the ghost, brows meeting above the bridge of his nose. “Okay, you’re scaring me now, mate. At 7, I would never bloody say anything like tha-“

But Harry didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, because suddenly, the ghost was dragging him, flying, back toward the opposite wall to the window. As fast as a light would turn on at the flick of a switch, the two were soaring through the room, Harry screaming, and through the frame of the window. They must have flown through something of a forcefield, because Harry’s ears popped, and his eyes watered with the force of the wind. Blinking the tears out of his eyes, Harry suddenly noticed his surroundings. He wasn’t flying above dark, quiet London; he was sailing above the white, wide grounds of the outskirts of Manchester. The same grounds him and Reuben ran across when they were little; the same exact ones he had been able to see from his window at his old house. The only house he had ever known real happiness in. The house everything had happened in. Suddenly the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes weren’t only from the wind in his eyes.

He saw the house. The ghost was bringing him to his old house, the old farm, it seemed. The farm consisted of two houses, both made out of different shades of grey and brown brick. The roofs were a dark black, and on the main house - which stood to the left of the little bridge over a small river, you had to cross to get to the farm – had three small windows on the roof as well, two of those had belonged to Harry’s old bedroom, the other one to Reuben’s. A trellis wall stood on either side of the out-sticking foyer, vines would have stretched up and around those in summertime, though they were all dead now, covered in fresh snow. The smaller house that stood opposite to the little bridge, was for guests, and Harry rarely spent any time in there unless him and Reuben were playing hide and seek. Trees surrounded the gravel space that was used for parking, all void of leaves, but just as pretty now that Harry’s mum had twined Christmas lights around each branch, warm yellow shining through the snow.

Harry gulped as they stopped outside the door to the main house, feeling everything within him scream to run away, but also to walk inside. It was all very confusing, and he didn’t know what to do. The ghost beside him was quiet, watching his companion as Harry tried to figure out what to do now. He didn’t have to think long, because suddenly the sound of feet sinking into the compact snow behind them was audible, and then two very familiar sets of laughs sounded in the cold winter air. Harry managed to just step out of the way as the 10-year-old him ran past him, opening the door into the house for him and Reuben. He watched, his mouth agape, as him and his little brother did something as mundane as take their jackets and shoes off, talking and laughing.

“Mum?” Harry shouted, running into the living room, Reuben following. “Mum, can you make us some cocoa, please?”

The ghost flew the two of them after the brothers, catching their mother in the act of decorating the Christmas tree. Harry’s heart stopped. He had never seen anything as heart-breaking, while also fantastic, in his entire life. Brown hair was fastened in a bun at the top of Andrea’s hair, curls poking out every here and there, as she had clearly been decorating the whole house for Christmas all day. Andrea smiled as she saw her children, though, looking down from where she stood on a small ladder, stretching to place a red ball on a green branch, the lights on the tree already on. She was wearing her white apron, the same one Harry had made her for Christmas the year before, and Harry remembered always feeling proud when his mother wore it. And she always looked so beautiful wearing it as well. Harry had always loved his mother more than he thought he could ever love anyone. She was the gentlest human being on Earth, and Harry had always secretly thought she must have been an angel, though he never told anyone. Andrea’s dimples showed as she climbed down the ladder, a huge sigh leaving her lips.

“Marshmallows and cream, I assume.”

“I can’t have marshmallows.” Little Harry stated. “I’m allergic.”

“Very true, baby. You want sprinkles then?”

Harry screeched, running after his mother into the kitchen, disappearing out of view. Reuben followed his brother.

“I want sprinkles instead as well!”

Next thing Harry knew, images of what happened next flashed before him. Running through the most traumatic happening in Harry’s life like some sort of terrible movie montage. Reuben running outside to their father to join him buying presents in town. Harry’s mother giving him his full cup of cocoa, placing a kiss to his forehead. Harry walking into the living room. Tripping over and ripping a wire. Spilling his cocoa. The Christmas tree up in flames. His mother screaming. Everything in the living room up in flames. His mother screaming. Harry too stunned to do anything. His mother running into the living room, lifting Harry up. Screaming. Harry being the only one running out the front door.

Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to be shown more of this day, not wanting to be reminded of what he had done. The flickering of Past beside him and the whooshing of air around him had him opening them again, though, and when he did, they were somewhere else entirely. In a hotel room in town, none of the lights on and Harry’s father, Don, sat by the window, looking out into the night. It was Christmas Eve, none of them having eaten anything that day, and it didn’t seem they would. Don hadn’t said a single word to Harry since that day, and Harry was starting to believe he never would either. His father blamed Harry, his son, for what had happened to the love of his life and the mother of his children. Blamed him for the fire and had trouble looking at him without feeling rage pulse through him, without wanting to sacrifice him for his mother. Harry hadn’t thought of it that way, but that Christmas Eve, he started blaming himself, too. Because it was easier that way, finding a reason to something that you found inexplainable. It kept things in balance. The weight on his shoulders was terribly heavy, but he deserved it. Harry hadn’t smiled since.

“Harry?” Reuben’s voice came over the scene before Harry, a moment taken out of a time later that same Christmas. “Harry, open the door, please.”

Harry sat in one of the three rooms in the guesthouse, he remembered, his door locked. It was the room facing the burned down house. “No.”

It was quiet for a second, Harry’s dad in the hotel room running both hands over his face before he started crying. Harry barely remembered this time in his life, let alone how he was feeling and thinking. It had all be repressed and he didn’t want to go back and open that door, didn’t want to remember that dark period of his life.

“Please.” Reuben repeated.

Harry’s dad got up from the bed he was sitting in, still crying.

“Harry, it wasn’t your fault.” Reuben said softly, only 8 still. “You know it wasn’t your fault that mum died.”

Don walked up to Harry, unable to say anything as tears ran down both of his cheeks. Levelling his index finger with Harry’s face and he almost opened his mouth to say something, but he looked away, as if looking at his son physically hurt him.

“Harry-“

“-No, Reuben, leave!” Harry said through the door. “Leave me alone!”

“Please, dad said-“

“-I don’t care!” Harry’s voice got louder. “I don’t care what dad said, Reuben! Leave me alone! Just leave!”

In the scene before Harry and Past, Harry’s dad walked away from Harry and towards the door of the hotel room, not looking back at his son as Harry shook, sad beyond belief. The door shut behind him, leaving the room in a high-pitched beeping noise that Harry cover his ears. But not for long, because the ghost started flying them forwards in time. Suddenly, they were far up in the air again, land underneath them looking like a drawn map of sorts. Harry recognised the bulky and run-down streets of Cork, Ireland, though. He could recognise those any day, anytime. Blinking in surprise as the University of Cork stood out, shining in the light of the sun above them, Harry suddenly felt a weird sense of peace. He knew exactly what the ghost wanted to show him now.

Harry had studied Business Studies with Finance at University of Cork. He had never really had any interests; his only one was trying to stay out of the way of people, but he had just applied for five different universities, five different courses. And this was the one he had decided to go with. At Freshers Week, Harry met Niall, one of his five other Irish flatmates. Surprisingly enough, the two hit it off, despite their huge differences. Niall was always loud, happy, and laughing, while Harry was quiet, miserable, and grumbling. Music and Business Management was Niall’s degree, and his most priced and favourite possession was his guitar. It was very run down, stickers on it and dents in places Niall had accidentally dropped it, probably having felt himself lose 5 years of his life doing so. At night, Harry would sit in Niall’s room, and Niall would play on his guitar. Harry became interested in music because of Niall, and quickly bought an old guitar of his own. It sucked just as much as Niall’s, and the two had a fun time while Niall taught Harry how to play, the two quickly starting to play together in Niall’s room every night.

“You know,” Harry had said one night when one of his guitar strings had broken. “It would be much easier if we just made guitars of our own. That way the ones we use wouldn’t suck sweaty fucking balls.”

Niall’s face whipped up, looking at Harry in front of him with huge eyes. “Harry…”

“Niall.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.”

But the Ghost of Christmas Past didn’t stop for Harry to relive any of his university moments, just to fly over Cork and the university so Harry would be reminded of it. So, he would know what was to come. Because before he knew it, they were in London again, flying through the front doors of Dymond Headquarters and into Harry’s office there. The two were flying above the ceiling, taking in the scene from above, and even though Harry felt like he was watching a film he had never seen before unfolding before him, he knew exactly which day this was. Exactly what was going to happen in a minute. He had just moved in; the whole building having been renovated for this new chapter in Niall and Harry’s professional lives. Dymond was doing phenomenally well, and new employees were running around, all with huge smiles om their faces as they took in the new Dymond. Harry’s office had a glass door, same with Niall’s right next to his, and the people walking by were looking in, giggling and whispering to one another. Harry regretted saying yes to the glass doors. The rest of his office was painted a dark beige, bookshelves lining one of the walls, two blue leather recliners and a black coffee table the other, and his desk was facing the door, a huge chair behind it and loads of cardboard boxes around it. Books and documents were in all of the boxes, ready to be taken out and to find their new place in Harry’s office. He would ask one of the employees if they could do it as he wasn’t bothered. Though, he knew himself well enough that he didn’t want anyone else touching his stuff, so he’d end up doing it himself anyway.

“How’re you finding everything, partner?” Niall asked as he walked in, not bothering to knock before entering. “Quite the new place, huh?”

“Yea.” Harry nodded, looking behind him through the windows of his office, and out at white late-November London. “It’s spacious.”

Niall snorted. “It’s spacious, alright.” He rested his hands in his suit trouser pockets, smiling at Harry. “I’m going to bring in a grand Freud sofa, so I can lay there all day and have the time of my life.”

“Aren’t your clients supposed to lay there?” Harry said, opening a box and beginning to unload some books. “That’s what Freud did anyway.”

“I don’t give two shits and a flying teabag what Freud did, Harry, I want to lay in the sofa.” Niall said, walking over to where Harry stood by the cardboard box. “And what are you doing anyway?”

“Moving into my office?”

Niall looked into two of the other boxes, the frown on his forehead deepening with each stare. “Looks boring.”

“It is.”

“Would you mind me interrupting you, then?”

“You already are.”

Niall chuckled. “No, I have someone it’s important that you meet.”

“If it’s one of those girlfriends of yours that you change every week, then I’m not interested.” Harry said, making Niall laugh again.

“No, Harry, this is not my girlfriend. That would almost me like incest or something.”

Harry looked up at Niall, a blank expression on his face. “You should really elaborate on that or I’m going to assume-“

“-Fine, shut up.”

Niall walked out of Harry’s office, humming to himself as he turned the corner and disappeared for a few seconds. Harry bent down again, bringing some more books out of the box and placing them on the desk beside him. First, Harry heard Niall talking, and then a soft voice answering him. And hearing it now, as he was floating above the scene, watching it from afar, he felt himself draw in a little breath. Niall turned the corner first, a woman following in behind him. If Harry had been holding books like the past Harry below him, he was sure he’d have the same reaction. Because as past Harry straightened up, holding a pile of books, he right about lost the first three as shock took over him. Before him stood one of the most gorgeous human beings he had ever seen, making him lose control of everything he knew. She stood beside Niall, hands in interlaced in front, and a very casual, yet elegant, black dress on that complimented her form perfectly. She jumped a little as the books hit the floor, and Niall only threw his head back and laughed. Even Harry of the now, as he watched this, went through the same feelings as past Harry; knew the expanse and depths of the emotions he had felt seeing Y/N for the first time.

“This is Y/N.” Niall explained, holding a hand out to motion to the woman beside him. “She’s a family friend, and she’s going to be our new assistant. Hope it’s okay by you that I gave her the job without asking.”

Harry didn’t say anything but removed his eyes from Y/N as not to seem like a creep. Locking eyes with Niall, he raised his eyebrows, letting Niall interpret that himself. Y/N, however, walked over to Harry and hunched down, picking up the three books Harry had dropped. When she came up to a standing position again, her eyes met Harry’s, and if he hadn’t worked his arms out four times a week, he would undoubtably have lost all of the eight books he was holding.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Niall’s told me a lot about you.” Her lips moved as graciously as the wind moved over and across the mountains, swaying with its swells and forms. Harry was hypnotised.

Harry blinked, trying to find words for a reply. “All bad, I assume.”

“Just that you like your own space, hate asking for help, can play the guitar pretty bloody well, love winter, and hate people.”

Harry’s mouth parted slightly.

“So… not too much.”

“More than I know about you, anyway.” Harry mumbled, and Y/N blushed.

At the sight of her looking down at the ground, trying desperately not to have all attention on her, made Harry of-the-now melt. She was so adorable, so incredibly pretty, when she showed her vulnerable side like that, when she let her true feelings show, unfiltered, through her body language. While Harry of the past placed the stack of books on the desk, the one of-the-now wasn’t able to take his eyes off of her there he laid floating, glancing down at her with a look so pure, so soft, it could only resemble the feeling of sliding your fingertips against silk. The smoothness of it relaxing you, making and instant feeling of pleasure and relief flood you. The mere thought of Y/N was wrapped around Harry’s heart in the finest silk there was, though he would never admit that out loud. Never admit that someone had him so good; that anyone could bring him to his knees like her.

The ghost beside him snickered, and when Harry whipped his head toward it, he only caught him for a second before he took Harry’s hand. Swiftly, Past flew the pair over to Niall’s office, and it seemed to be a few months later, almost a year, because the trees outside were green, though the leaves were turning yellow and brown at the edges. Harry guessed around September the following year of that November Y/N had started working. And he was very right.

“Y/N,” Niall sighed, laying in his Freud sofa and staring up at the ceiling. “Today was very embarrassing.”

Y/N, now wearing jeans and an elegant white blouse nodded, rubbing her sweaty palms together to try and calm herself down.

“You understand that, right?”

She nodded.

“Because I never want that to bloody happen again.”

“You told me to arrange the meeting for next Tuesday, so I did.”

“And it’s now Tuesday, and I told you to arrange it for Thursday. Wrong day. Everyone showed up, but the most important parts didn’t. The hosts – aka me and H - didn’t bloody show up. ”

“No, you did not tell me to schedule it for Thursday!”

Niall sat up. “Thursday.”

“You said Tuesday!”

“No, I’m 100% sure I told you to book the room, e-mail the details, and put it in my calendar for Thursday this week.” Niall got up. “You were sloppy last week ordering new string wires from that new company you said would be so much better than the one we were already buying from.” Niall said, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. “And now this? If you keep pulling stuff like this I might have to fire-“

“-You said Tuesday, Niall.”

Harry remembered this very well. He was leaning against Niall’s desk, arms crossed and eyes moving rapidly between Y/N and Niall as they were fighting. He remembered how scared he felt when Niall threatened to fire Y/N; the fear of never seeing her again. Harry also remembered how he had talked with Niall about the meeting being scheduled for Thursday, but that by that point, his crush on Y/N had grown into something more than that, and in that moment, he felt desperate. He wouldn’t let her slip from him this easily.

Niall, startled at Harry engaging in the fight, blinked a few times before looking at Harry. When their eyes met, and Harry, very quickly, let his fall on Y/N before Niall, Niall understood. Trying not to smile, not to show just how amused he was, Niall shrugged his shoulders. Y/N looked back at Harry, and in the glance she gave him, she said a quiet ‘thank you’, because it seemed she, too, knew she was in the wrong. Niall tried not to scream, feeling like he had uncovered a secret of sorts, or that his assumptions on how Y/N and Harry felt for one another was actually truer than he thought. But he played it off, walking to his desk, he smiled as the two others stood with their backs to him.

“Guess I was wrong.”

Flying through Niall’s glass door that opens when they near it, Ghost off Christmas Past takes Harry to the hallway just outside his and Niall’s offices. The lift. Harry could feel himself let out a shaky breath as he understood once again. Halloween decorations hung over the lift, bats hanging in yellow and orange strings along the walls, Dracula’s silhouette against the metal door of the lift. Harry didn’t care much for festive seasons, didn’t care about any time of the year in particular, but Niall loved decorating and making their workplace a fun place to me. Of course, Harry thought the decorations were pathetic, but he wasn’t about to tell Niall off for it. It made his best friend very happy.

Harry of the past walked past floating Harry and the ghost, the two of them watching as Harry pressed the button of the lift and then standing back. Footsteps sounded down the hall, and a panting Y/N stepped into the lift with Harry as it arrived. Harry only cleared his throat, holding onto his briefcase as he was going home for the day. Y/N was obviously doing the same, her dark coat hanging loose around her until she started buttoning it up. With everything he was, Harry tried not to stare at Y/N because if she saw him in one of the mirrors, or in any way caught him watching her, he knew it would be very awkward. So, he tried his very best to stare at his own reflection, refusing to make Y/N uncomfortable. But just as Y/N was about to finish buttoning up her coat, all the lights in the lift went out. It jolted, sending Y/N falling to the floor, and Harry about to, only just able to catch himself on the railing along the wall in time. The lights flickered back on, and Harry dropped his briefcase, hunching down beside Y/N.

“You alright?” He asked, voice soft.

“The lift stopped.” Y/N said, frowning a little to herself. “Why the fuck did it stop?”

Harry, who wanted to laugh at how cute and confused she looked, looked around at the lift, though nothing seemed to have triggered it in any way. Well, not inside the lift, at least. Y/N sat up, leaning against one of the walls as Harry stepped over her feet, trying to get a look through the slit of the doors to see if they were stuck between floors and how bad it was. He couldn’t see anything, though, and pressed the emergency button before calling the receptionist downstairs. He explained there was a black-out across the street, and that might have something to do with the lift. As much as Harry wanted to scream orders at the receptionist, he took a deep breath and talked calmly, asking him to call the fire department. Once he had hung up, he sat down opposite Y/N, looking through his briefcase to find something to occupy himself with.

Y/N chuckled.

Harry looked up at her, only to find Y/N already glancing at him. “In any moment, even in one of crisis, you fish out work to do. Every time.”

Harry huffed. “It’s called dedication.”

“Also called being a workaholic.” Y/N sang, and Harry bit his lip as his eyes fell to the paper, a deal he needed to seal that he had taken out to look at. “Did you hear me, I insulted you?”

“I blocked it out.”

Y/N smiled now, finding their bickering amusing. “Really? And why don’t you like constructive criticism?”

“It’s not constructive criticism if you’re attacking the receiving part.” Harry looked up at her again, pretending his heartbeat wasn’t picking up dangerously fast.

“I’m not attacking!”

“You just said you insulted me, though.”

“Yea, well…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing how to reply to that.

Harry smiled a little, and so did Y/N, to which Harry felt himself draw a huge breath.

“Just trying to make conversation, is all.” Y/N defended herself, unbuttoning her coat as she was starting to get hot.

“Next time, here’s another suggestion for a conversation starter:” Harry started, putting the file back into the briefcase. “Don’t be a prick.”

Y/N gasped, Harry chuckling at her reaction. “Harry Styles cracking a joke.” She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “I would’ve never believed.”

“It wasn’t a joke, it was advice.”

“Sounded like a joke to me.”

“Then you should start revaluating a lot of things in life if you don’t know the difference between a joke and advice.”

Y/N gasped again, Harry now laughing. He had never laughed like that before that very moment, not since he was a child anyway. And how Y/N brought this side out of him, he had no idea. There was something about her, always had been, and those three hours they spent in that lift together only made his feelings for her that much stronger. He wanted to spend every waking moment with her; wanted to spoil her, make her laugh, and make sure she was nothing but happy till the end of time. He wanted to know the most deranged parts of her soul; to have her relive her most traumatic happenings so he could live them too; to know so much about her that he didn’t know what was his life and what was hers. It shocked him how strongly he felt for her, how many times he looked over his shoulder after her when they left that lift, and how many times she looked back, too. The thought alone made his heart flutter mad.

“You really fell hard for her, didn’t you?” The Ghost of Christmas Past said, voice soft as the Y/N and past Harry chattered along in the lift below them.

Harry decided to play dumb. “Who?”

“Y/N.” Said Past, the voice of his 7-year-old self talking back to him. “There’s a bond between the two of you as old as the universe, your souls created as one among stardust, but parted when you were put on Earth.” There was a slight pause as Y/N laughed, her hand in front of her mouth, Harry beaming at her. As she removed her hand, the two looked at each other, smiles on their faces and their hearts warmer than they had ever felt before. “You have spent centuries searching for one another, only to find each other now.”

In his mind, the time at the back of the conference hall flashed before Harry. Niall was doing a speech, all other lights in the hall dimmed, every single eye and floodlight on the Irish man on stage. He was talking into the microphone, enthusiastic and smiling, and it seemed that everyone was intrigued, liking what Niall had to say. Harry didn’t like attention, it was therefore that he stood in the very back, behind the audience, with Y/N. The speech was almost over when Harry felt the light pressure of a finger against the left side of his palm. The finger glided further into his palm, very slowly, as if doing it too fast might cause a reaction. Harry felt Y/N’s soft knuckles against his already damp palm, gulping loudly as he pressed his hang against hers, wrapping his fingers slowly and firmly to match her. Harry let go of a deep sigh, all the blood, all the happiness, all the love in his entire body rushing down to where Y/N’s skin met his. To where he was holding everything he’d ever wanted to hold. Neither looked at each other, their eyes on the stage and their friend who was now bowing, grinning up at the audience as they clapped for him. Harry held Y/N’s hand like it depended on his life, like it was his life force. But at the same time, the pressure of her against him overwhelmed him, the love she was trying to show scaring him. So, Harry let go of Y/N’s hand and rushed down the steps to the stage as everyone started getting up from their seats. Standing in the back all alone, feeling empty, and with a bitterly cold hand, stood Y/N, a breath hitched in her throat and tears of frustration in her eyes.

“How do you know this?” Harry asked, voice weak as the memory he had just gone over drained him of more than he thought it would.

“I know all you past, all your lives, and all your mistakes. All your failed attempts and how you could have righted a wrong.”

Harry frowned a little, facing the ghost, and still finding it eerie how it was his younger self he was taking this journey with. “Way to fucking kill the mood.”

The ghost took Harry’s hand and turned the two around, going back into Niall’s office where they were greeted with Y/N already standing before Niall’s desk. Niall sat in his chair and the calendar behind him read March 2016. Niall’s last full year alive. The thought made Harry flinch.

“… don’t even know what the fuck is going on, because I’ve done nothing but my best.” Y/N explained, leaning both her arms on the desk.

“Have you asked him if something is wrong? Like, if something has recently happened?” Niall asked, twisting a pen between his index and thumb, feet on the desk, and leaning back in his chair. “Don’t take it personal, Y/N. Harry’s always been miserable.”

Y/N groaned, turning around and rubbing her hands together, a habit she had when she was nervous or frustrated. In this case, it seemed both. This was the first moment they had visited today that Harry had not been part of himself. She turned to Niall again.

“I don’t want to work here anymore if Harry keeps on treating me the way he does.”

Niall took his feet down from the table then. “What?”

“He disrespects me, mumbles unnecessary comments under his breath about me, tells me to ‘fuck off’ at least 30 times a day or that what I’m saying is ‘fucking humbug’-“

“-Lovely phrase. Love that.”

Y/N chocked her head and Niall motioned for her to continue.

“I can’t… I can’t deal with someone being this unprofessional, Niall. I… I just can’t.” Y/N sighed heavily. “I feel used and unappreciated.”

“You are appreciated. Very much so.-“

“-Make fucking Harry say that, or else I won’t believe it.” Y/N groaned, pacing back and forth. “I-I don’t understand how he changed attitudes all of a sudden. I don’t understand what happened after… after…” Y/N trailed off, and Niall frowned.

“After what?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing. What matters is that I’m not treated right and I want to quit because Harry makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“Y/N, I’m going to talk to him about it, okay?-“

“-Can you do it now?”

Harry ran both hands over his face, about to burst as his heart was aching so bad he didn’t know what to do. He had no idea that Y/N had felt this way, no idea that this was what he had done to her. The ghost beside him just watched the scene unfold, the flame under the cap flickering and beating softly against the metal.

“Don’t.” Harry’s voice was horse as if he had been screaming. “Get this away. I can’t bear it.”

But the Ghost of Christmas Past doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to do anything but watch Y/N and Niall argue. Harry looked to his right away, the voices of his best friend and the woman of his dreams seeming to get louder and louder.

“Get it away!” Harry shouted, and suddenly they were falling through the window of Niall’s top floor office. Face first, Harry and the ghost soared, a scream not quite reach Harry’s throat as the shock and speed of it all took his breath away. The ghost took a hold of Harry’s shirt before they flew through and open window and into one of the conference rooms, this one flat, and with blue, silver, and turquoise lights filling the room. Christmas music was playing in the background and people were milling around, laughing and talking. Christmas Party on December 23rd 2017. Niall was running late as he had been catching up with a cousin. And by the bar stood Harry, Y/N walking up to him and sitting on the barstool beside him.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. He knew this night. “Please don’t.”

But the ghost didn’t listen, only drew them closer to Y/N and Harry by the bar. Their words weren’t audible, but Harry knew, as he remembered this night clearly, that the smell of a tropical cocktail had been on her tongue. Y/N was tipsy, and clearly on the brink of being drunk as she was willingly talking to Harry, but the two were still having a good time. One thing led to another, and the ghost making the moment pick up speed, zoomed in on Y/N and Harry as she leaned in, nose against Harry’s. The both had their eyes closed, both needing the other one to move that last little centimetre for their lips to touch. Harry remembered every single part of that moment; how Y/N’s skin had felt against his, how she smelled, the music that was playing in the background, and how his finger – from the arm that was leaning against the bar counter – skimmed her upper thigh every once in a while. Goosebumps ran up and down Harry’s spine, how brain not being able to comprehend what was going on, what could happen. Again, he felt his heartbeat in his throat. A sort of claustrophobia clutched at his organs, and he stepped away. Y/N opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. Harry pointed toward the exit, saying something under his breath about how he needed to leave, and so he did.

Y/N sat by the bar, eyes tearing up as the frustration of Harry never taking a hint, never taking the chance when she put herself out there, finally caught up with her. She wiped a tear away, turning toward the bartender. She was going to forget she still having feelings for Harry, because he truly didn’t deserve her anyway.

Past moved the two out of the building, following Harry’s Audi as he drove off and away from Dymond. His heart was still pounding, his head still screaming that he didn’t deserve Y/N, so pushing her away was a good idea. The only way to keep her away was to push her to the very edge. He knew he must mean little to her, and the thought hurt, but it was better this way. Again, the ghost started fastforwarding.

Harry stopping at a red light. His phone ringing. Niall’s mum’s voice over the speaker in his car. The lights turning green. Harry not being able to move a muscle as Niall’s mum’s sobs filled the car. Someone holding the horn down behind him. Harry still not reacting. Not reacting till Reuben had to come get him and drive him home. Not reacting till four days later when he felt a tear roll down the side of his face where he laid in bed, running into his ear and tickling him, but he didn’t bother wiping it away.

Feeling void of anything but death and unhappiness.

Feeling hatred towards the world a day later.

Feeling like screaming till he died.

“Get me away from this.” Floating Harry begged, hating how the Harry he saw in the car was someone he had once been. This time the ghost listened, and the two flew downstairs and outdoors where it was strikingly white all of a sudden, clearly a morning not long after the incident. The path up to Harry’s house was snowed up, no footprints in it whatsoever as no one had been to visit. But some days after Niall’s death, that changed. Y/N rang Harry’s doorbell and when he opened, she took a step back. He was wearing blue robes, his hair a mess, and the stubble on his chin grotesque.

“Harry…” She said, voice trailing off. “I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Harry swallowed, not knowing how he was supposed to handle someone being compassionate in this manner. Y/N stood before him, offering him sympathy, and he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to react.

“Niall’s office…” Y/N started up again, knowing full well that Harry wouldn’t give him a proper answer. “What are we going to do about it?”

Harry shook his head, sighing. “Y/N, just leave. I can handle that some other day.”

“I-I just wan to help you-“

“-Please, leave.”

Y/N stood her ground, blinking a few times as a snowflake landed in her eyelashes. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Don’t-“

“-He was your best friend, more like a brother, and your co-owner, and I’m sorry you lost that.-“

“-Y/N I told you to leave me alone!” Harry shouted, shaking with the effort not to break down completely right then and there. Y/N jumped at Harry’s raised voice, walking back away from his house. She turned around and walked rather quickly away from Harry, who watched her until she was in her car. There, she sat crying until her sight wasn’t blurry anymore from tears, and then she drove back home.

“Get this away from me!” Harry shouted at the ghost. “Please! I don’t want to see this!”

Images of Niall’s funeral started to manifest themselves, and Harry saw just the dark road this was going to go down. Blinking as the wind in his eyes got intense, Harry closed them and shouted once again.

“Get me out of here! Get me back to me house!”

But the ghost didn’t listen, just kept pushing on through a year that had gone by in a haze. Blurry images of a life Harry barely remember living, of people he didn’t remember, and places he had forgotten. Harry, who had felt nothing but hurt and pain and despair this whole journey, was starting to get fed up by the ghost. As the wind around them got intense, Harry reached for the cap above the Ghost of Christmas Pasts’ head, and started pushing it down. Down, down, down. He screamed as he pushed and shoved the cap down, the younger ghost version of himself disappearing from view as the light started shining bright again. As the inextinguishable, luminous rays flooded downward onto the ground, Harry suddenly found himself zipped back into his bedroom. Harry continued to push until the cap was one with an appearing floor beneath him, and everything around him disappeared. Utterly bewildered, Harry raised quickly, panting as he looked around his dark bedroom. Everything was normal. Nothing out of place. But in his chest, he felt that something was.

And he wouldn’t find out why until the second spirit was to visit. When, he had no idea. But he sat down in his bed, facing his door, and started recounting the events that had just gone down in detail.

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thebargainingchip · 6 years

Text

Blood Colors: Chapter 6

Masterlist

Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Descriptive Violence

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

The day had finally arrived. Today was the opening to the tournament and after a week and half of being mostly in your room, you were glad for the fresh air. Behind the village was a half-wrecked stadium that Azgeda used as an arena. The stands were packed with the people from all villages, the main event between Luktri, Stromclud and the Eastern Village would take place on the third day and final day. The first two days would be filled with festivities, a feast -as if people weren't starving enough-, some fights showcasing the bravest warriors challenging others and public scaring ceremonies for those who have come of age.

You were dressed in a simple long sleeved shirt covered by a fur jacket with pants and a pair of combat boots that was more than enough to keep you warm. You had wrapped your hands with bandages and pulled on a shirt that hooked over your thumb to stop the ache that you felt in your hands when it got this cold. The wounds were healing very slowly, the pink lines that now crossed your palms were scabbed over but you still struggled to grip things tightly in your left hand, your dominant hand.

Roan was seated on the throne, Echo standing on one side, war paint on her face and you on the other side. The first fight that had commenced was between one of the war generals on Roan's council and his second. Although this was a fight to the death, not all challenges this weakened would be. The fight was won in short victory as the younger, the second finally pushed his sword through the chest of his mentor. The crowd burst into cheers, a cry that echoed through everyone's chest. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, sure you weren't really ever sappy about someone dying, it happened, but you weren't used to people's lives being used as entertainment.

The second fight was basically a marriage dispute, husband and wife fighting for dominance. It ended with the woman's sword to the man's throat, this time it rose fewer cheers from the crowd. It was then that a man, stepped into the arena, alone, he came and bowed in front of the King and as he rose you recognised his face. It was the councilman who had challenged you in the meeting about two weeks ago. As if on queue at the thought, his gaze shifted to you. "Ai, Gendru kom Azgeda challenge the one they call Jus Gona." Everyone seemed to freeze at the challenge, except the crowds who slowly started stomping their feet as the request hung in the air. "Challenging my guest means you are challenging me." Roan piped up before you could string words together. "And I-" "I accept." You stepped forward, the foot-stomping silenced and cheers rose.

The door slammed closed behind you, but you stood near the threshold ready for the uproar. In the King's chambers again. "It's what Clarke would do." Is the first thing you say when Roan turns to you, anger on his face, that takes the words out of everyone's mouths in the room. "If you accepted the challenge then you wouldn't exactly have gained the favour of your people, I would have looked weak and if you die then I sure as hell dead too." "She isn't wrong." Echo pointed out, Roan sighed. Oren was also uncharacteristically quiet. "Look it's set for tomorrow afternoon, I have plenty of time to prepare." "You haven't even trained properly with a sword yet." Roan said still resenting the fact that you would be fighting a war general to death. "I can do it." You said firmly. "Fine but you're training with Oren." That was really starting to get old, the orders.

Echo and Roan left to attend the rests of today's events while you made use of the King's empty chambers, which had a large open but private space that you wouldn't find anywhere else. Despite Oren's ironic and impassive nature, he was a natural and brutal fighter, his advances were quick and he gained a lot of ground, a few times you almost found yourself trapped between him and the wall but his defences were easy to get through. Your biggest problem was the fact that your thumbs grip on the sword was to lose to actually keep hold of the hilt. A few times you found yourself having to dodge Oren's attacks as your sword lay on the ground feet away. Your best bet would be to strike hard and fast and not allow your opponent to bring up your defences for too long. "Again." Oren said standing straight, you were good at dodging his attacks even if you were swordless you agility allowing you to escape but if this was a real fight you might tire out before your opponent. You picked up your sword, a little out of breath. "You can't keep losing your sword." "I'm trying." Your hands were burning and bleeding, the bandages had longs since torn and the scabs had been ripped off. "You need to try harder." Still not losing hope even at his reminder you dodged his attack by ducking under his sword and bring your sword up to push it against his throat, but Oren was way ahead of you, kicking you in the side and making you stumbled to the ground as you lost your balance, Barely even hitting the ground you recovered and block his attack, which seems to ring through your hands as the metal connected. You twisted your blade around his until you purposefully drop your sword and grabbed his hand and then his other wrist, kneeing him in the stomach twice then twisting one of his hand behind his back, you kicked his knee out from under him and grabbed your sword and pressed it to his neck before he could recover. "Is that hard enough?" "That's enough for tonight, get some rest."

Despite your hunger you returned to your room, it was already dark outside and you were more tired than anything else.

You're barely awake when Roan bursts into your room, all determined. You sit up raising an eyebrow at him as he paused at the foot of the bed. It's past dawn but he's already dressed and ready for the day. As if a thought sifts through his mind he hesitates unsure. "Oren said that you're not half bad." The exact person which was currently missing, he usually spends the night dosing in the chair but you certainly hadn't heard him come in last night or leave early morning. "Suppose to be a compliment or?" The silence follows after as Roan completely ignores your question. "You're nervous." You state somewhat hesitant to acknowledge it. "The last thing Azgeda needs right now is to go to war and I fear that if you die it would be unavoidable." "Hmm, yeah, I think you're secretly afraid of Lexa kicking your ass again besides my people wouldn't go to war over my death. They basically hate me." "Clarke doesn't hate you." "Clarke doesn't think war is a solution or a good revenge strategy." You pointed out. "It's unnerving how calm you are." "It comes with being a sociopath." You shrug. Roan looks visibly less nervous now after your joke, which was surprising enough. You wouldn't ever describe yourself as having a calming effect on anyone. "Besides if you haven't realised by now, despite Clarke's dislike of my talents, I'm quite good at killing people." "Why do you follow Clarke?" Roan asks, catching you a little off guard, but you know the answer. "Because she has a hell of a lot of a better chance of being right than I do." Roan nods, seeming to accept your answer before he turns around and leaves. The emptiness of the room leaves you to wonder if you really would still trust Clarke like you did before, but she hasn't been wrong yet, not about sending you here. But she also hasn't been right, you haven't really achieved anything but stir up trouble so far. After soaking in the bath, you braid your hair out of your face and then curl up in front of the window until breakfast, snow is lightly falling outside and below people are training. You try to find some part of yourself that is even a little bit nervous or hesitant but you honestly couldn't say you were, this was nothing different from any other day.

Oren finally shows up right as you are about to go get some food, he's quieter than usual but not tense or anything as far as you can tell, just broody. It got to the point where he even ignored you when you asked where he was last night. "What's up with you?" "You are fucked." You stare at him, eyebrows knitted together as you pause spoon in hand. "Thanks for believing in me." You answer before grabbing another spoonful of porridge, just as you try to think where he got that conclusion from he explains: "When you win, then Gendru will die." You pause a little, caught up in his sentence usage for a moment. "What's your point?" "General Gendru is supported by many people, if you kill him, there are some who you might not win over. This means that you will not have eliminated more threats but only created more." "Well, I sure as hell am not going to choose war or my own death." You add. "Besides, why is everyone so stressed about this?" Oren gives you a weird look like you're crazy but you ignore it.

Your weapon is freshly sharpened just before you enter the arena, Echo brings it to you being her ever lovely self, she shoves it into your hands and ends with "I hope he gives you a quick death." You don't reply as she leaves but instead, you turn to Oren. "At least someone is not worried about me." You joke, Oren just shakes his head as you fix the arm guards to sit more securely. You have chosen to go without your bandages fearing they will just be in the way but the wounds still looked angry and inflamed from yesterdays torture and you have no doubt they will be more sensitive. "You can do this." Oren says one last time as the challenge is announced outside and the crowd roars.

"I know." You grin and pat Oren on the shoulder as you run out.

Gendru stands beside you as you both face Roan, he stays silent for a moment longer than necessary but then with the wave of a hand starts the fight, you both draw your swords and face each other.There's a moment where both of you pause, the falling snow drifting to the floor, the crowd silent as they wait. Then just as if it feels like the moment has lasted too long, Gendru launches, his sword swipes are precise and fast as you dodge each one. You realise too late that it was only a distraction as he sweeps your feet out from under you and land hard on your back barely having time to recover before he uses both hands to plummet the sword at you. Heaving yourself out of the way you dodge another sweep of his sword and then catch the back of his calf as your roll to your feet. The crowd oo's as the general sags to his knees. You allow him time to recover because you decided to be nice even when you knew he wouldn't be. He stands and you wonder if you should have gone for his Achilles tendon, that would have slowed him down. This time he waits for you to strike and you do bouncing blows off him even as he blocks, he deflects one blow hard and pushes against his blade until he throws you off balance, you stumble backwards and block his strikes. He' trying to wear you out, but the trick is on him, still, you allow him time to think he is doing something right. He tries the same move as before, using his sword to distract you and using any of his other three limbs to knock you down, but you don't fall for it this time. You grab his fist, effectively blocking his punch just as his sharp blade slides past your cheek. You throw away the act, you're ragged breathing steadying just as you slice across his chest, he stumbles backwards but straightens to come after you again but doesn't have enough time to get past your defences instead having to block your sword. You shift your sword around his and slicing down his hand then punching him in the stomach. The crowd is oo's again as you catch his wrist, his blade now discarded on the ground. He clutches his fingers tightly but you decide to stretch it a little further. Kicking his sword away you allow your opponent time to recover. He gets to his feet, takes a breather or two before he comes at you strong again. He doesn't miss the blade that slices his side as you move past him. He takes off running for his sword and you assess him. He's almost done, he's lost too much blood to not be weak. You let him pick up the sword and turn back again. He blocks your attack, but he isn't fast enough to block the kick to his side, he stumbles but recovers quick with an up slash that you barely have time to jump out of but you're quick to strike again, you use the butt of your blade to knock the sword out of his hand, catching his sword with your right hand. He moves back and raises his neck to avoid his own blade that you hold there as you step forward. You could slide your sword right through his neck or chest between his fourth and fifth rib and he would be dead. But death isn't the worst thing.

"Next time you utter a challenge, think it through, if you can speak that is." You make one slice down his throat in a scew line, he stumbles to his knees from the shock. He clutches his neck, blood slowly trickling through his fingers. "Frag op. (Kill)" The crowd begins to chant. As you turn to them and watch, you could still do it, one last temptation that you're almost transfixed by. "I'm not Azgeda." You cast Gendru's sword aside. You turn to Roan as the crowd falls into an unmatchable silence. "Save him." You pause then add "Or don't." Gendru chokes on the blood that runs into his lungs behind you before you leave the arena. The arena is still in dead silence as you disappear into the hallway leading to outside.

You sheath your sword when you're out in the cold weather again, your hands raw from the fight, the cut on your cheek burns unnecessarily bad as you tuck your hands into your armpits, it feels unwittingly cold as the breeze only lightly blows past you. You keep the castle in sight as you walk through the mostly empty village. The arena is still quiet which must mean that a break has been called. You just wanted a bath right now, you felt so tired all of the sudden. Just as you glance up from where you've scoped the ground, the castle now looming before you, it blurs. The dizzy feeling overwhelms you and makes your head throb. Just had to make it to your room. You climb the steps of the palace a little of balance but manage without stumbling until you reach the top step. Just as you enter the castle a wave of nausea hits you. Something is very, very wrong. You walk at a much more brisker pace and try to listen to your surroundings while the blood rushes through your ears. Just down the hallway, up another flight of stairs and then the first door on the left. Just as you reach the steps you stop, your cheek stings again and you sway on your feet. Through your bleary mind, you piece it all together. It had to be on his sword, on the blade. You see someone move out the corner of your eye but don't stick around long enough to see who it is. Instead, you sprint of the steps taking two, three at a time, on the last step your foot misses its footing and you stumble. Despite your muscles fighting against you, you push yourself up and stumbled down the wall and through the doors of your room.Your guards that are usually posted outside are gone.

You fall against the desk as you try to reach the chair and then manage to pull yourself upright, though it's agonising. You drag the chair over to the door and barely manage to push the chair underneath the handles but stumble last moment to ground, sliding down against the door, you're cheek resting heavily against the cold wood, someone slams their shoulder into the door and you barely manage to fight off grasping hands before your vision fades and with it your consciousness.

Next Chapter

#roan kom azgeda #king roan #Roan #the 100 #roan x reader #roan fanfiction

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kuresoto · 6 years

Text

Nariño 70 Cold Brew (reylo fic)

Rating: T Words: 2k Summary: Finn doesn't think he can unsee how utterly pathetic Kylo looks, crushing on a girl who works at Starbucks. Modern coffee-shop AU. Insp from this post sent to me from @extrakyloren ♥ (AO3 link)

“Remind me again,” Finn said, exasperated. “Why is he here?” He pointed at the man who sat at their table, obviously awkward and out of place compared to the table’s other occupants.

“Because,” Poe started, “I couldn’t just leave him at home like this.” Finn fixed him with a look that said no, you totally could have. “I mean, look at the man, Finn!”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not right fucking here,” Kylo grumbled, face still pale from what transpired earlier that day.

Finn crooked a brow and took a proper look at him. His once flouncy hair was limp and sad to look at with his face sullen and ashen. The normally self-assured man who walked around with all the confidence in the world was reduced to a hunched ball of anxiety. He had his feet propped up on the edge of his seat, knees pressed to his chest, as he curled over and nursed his cup of hot chocolate, sulking.

Finn cringed at the sight before him. “What happened?” It wasn’t right to see Kylo so...not himself.

With a gulp of his beverage, Kylo let out a shuddering breath and placed his cup on the table. His fingers remained on the curve of the cup, finding comfort from the warmth. “I...ah…did Poe tell you about the girl?”

“The one you’ve been stalking at Starbucks?”

Kylo slammed his hand on the table, making Finn jolt. “It wasn’t stalking!” he hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Finn said, hands up in defence. “It wasn’t stalking. You just stared at her creepily from whatever corner you were skulking in.” He let out a laugh when Poe thumped him on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! Well, not really.”

“As unhelpful as Finn is, he has a point. I thought you would be, I don’t know, better at handling these situations,” Poe commented.

“Well, good news!” Kylo said, voice with thick sarcasm. “I handled it! I worked up the courage and told her how beautiful she was.”

With an impressive nod, Finn softly applauded him. “That’s good. You went from wordlessly pointing at random drinks to actually saying something to her.”

“And, I only threw up twice,” he added belatedly.

Silence stretched between the three as Finn and Poe exchanging horrified looks. “Did you know about this?” Finn asked Poe urgently, hand over his mouth in a pathetic attempt to hide his words from Kylo.

Shaking his head, Poe replied in a harsh whisper. “I didn’t know he threw up!”

Suddenly, Kylo dropped his legs and cradled his head in his hands. “I don’t even drink coffee!” he moaned.

Poe rubbed his back reassuringly. “I thought you would have gotten used to the taste by now. Especially since, you know, you go there so often that you’ve probably tried everything on their menu.”

Kylo ripped his head from his hands and stared at Poe with a wide-eyed look. “Why is coffee so bitter though?”

“Then you should have added sugar! Or syrup!”

“I couldn’t!” Kylo collapsed dramatically against the back of his seat. “I ordered whatever she recommended and ran with it. I didn’t want to insult and say that her choice of drinks is shit!”

“Yeah but barristers usually ask if you’ve had coffee before and if you like it sweetened,” Finn chimed in, eyes narrowing as Kylo became suspiciously quiet. “Kylo,” he prodded, drawing out his name slowly.

“It’s not my fault,” Kylo wheezed. “I wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying, so I just nodded.”

The pair groaned and covered their faces from second hand embarrassment. “Kylo,” they whined in unison.

“This really is all on you,” Finn commented as he took a sip of his own sweetened coffee. His sigh of content was cut short when a horrible realisation crept up on him. “Kylo,” he started. “You didn’t…” He paused for dramatic effect, and to throw a prayer into the wind, hoping that he was wrong. “You didn’t throw up on her, did you?”

Kylo pursed his lips together and glared at his almost empty cup. He looked like a child who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He propped his legs back on his chair and wrapped his arms around them tightly. “At least she knows how I feel about her,” he croaked, ignoring the pitiful looks sent his way. “Or she thinks I’m a weirdo.” Kylo buried his face into his arms and rubbed his eyes against his knees. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not going back anyways.”

Finn opened his mouth, only to pause and snap it shut. There really wasn’t anything he could say or do that could help his friend’s roommate, and neither himself or Poe knew the girl who seemed to make Kylo change into the shy boy he currently was. All he could do was pat his back in condolence, and he couldn’t even do that properly. His own roommate was finishing work soon and he had gotten word that her day at work was a disaster.

God, Kylo looked so pathetic, so in a desperate attempt to not look so uncaring, Finn took off his thick scarf and draped it over the man’s huddled self. It wasn’t much, but moping into his soft scarf was a better alternative than the scratchy material of his jeans. With an apologetic look thrown at Poe, Finn rushed off, knowing that he had to stop by the movie store to get a dumb comedy to cheer up his roommate.

The popcorn was already popping loudly in the microwave when his roommate burst through the door. One look at her was all he needed to know that it must have been a really bad day. “Didn’t you leave in your uniform this morning?” Finn asked, taking a bottle of beer from the fridge for her.

His roommate, Rey, eagerly took the proffered bottle and gulped it down. Letting out a small frothy burp, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but some customer threw up on me.”

Oh, no. With disguised horror, he nodded continuously as his eyes zoned out. “You don’t say…”

Meanwhile, Rey continued to ramble. “Yeah, it was so weird. I mean, no, I should have seen this coming. The guy obviously didn’t drink coffee, if his face was anything to go by.”

Finn propped his arm against the kitchen counter and cradled his chin. “Really?” he said with fake wonder, despite the screaming inside his head. It was like he was watching a car crash happening in slow motion.

“I just don’t understand why he would lie to me like that.”

“Lie?” That caught Finn’s attention. “Wh-What did he lie about?”

“He asked what coffee I would recommend, but since I work at Starbucks, I’m obliged to do the spiel. You know, tell him about whatever new coffee beans we have and he kind of just...nodded to everything I said. I specifically asked him if he’s had coffee before and he just kept nodding! And then I watched him!”

“You watched him?” Finn asked incredulously.

“Yeah. He looked a bit weird and it wasn’t that busy so I just happened to watch him.” Rey snapped her mouth shut and looked at Finn suspiciously. “Before you say anything, no, it’s nothing.”

Finn held his hands up in defence. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Anyways, I just happened to watch him take the first sip of coffee and I’ve never seen anyone gag like he did. And he kept coming back! And kept ordering the same drink!” Rey grabbed Finn’s shoulders and shook him roughly. “Why did he keep ordering the same drink?!” she asked, voice becoming hysterical.

“I don’t know, Rey, I just don’t know.” Kylo’s crush on Rey must be pretty serious if he couldn’t pull himself together to order another drink.

“And today, like always, he came in and ordered that goddamn cold brew-”

The rest of Rey’s sentence was just a blur to Finn. He stared, wide eyed at Rey as the intensity of Kylo’s crush came to light. He had on good authority, something about an incident that happened when Kylo and Poe were still in college, that Kylo despised iced drinks. He hated them. Too many times had Finn been subjected to the lectures of ‘how iced drinks are a monstrosity’ whenever Kylo caught him with one.

Oh, boy, Kylo was a goner.

“-and he wanted to tell me something, so I waited patiently but then he just threw up at my feet! And then he tried to apologise, but one look at me and I got sick all over my front. Which is fine. It was only a matter of time before he threw up from the cold brew, but he just kept on blabbering to me about how sorry he was and that I was too beautiful.” Rey scoffed in disbelief. “I-I don’t even know how to react to something like that.”

Being nineteen and on a scholarship, Rey didn’t have time for dating and the likes. It wasn’t a problem though, she was so oblivious to anyone’s advances that they usually got disheartened by her lack of attention and left her be. She was an orphan like himself, grew up in the system and was bumped from family to family that any concept of family and love was so foreign to her that she shied away from those situations. He was lucky. Finding him similar to herself, Rey latched onto him during the first weeks of college and after some shuffling, they ended up rooming together.

“What are you gonna do next time you see him?” he asked, curious to know the answer to the million dollar question.

Rey shrugged and flopped onto a kitchen stool. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I doubt he’ll come back though. He was pretty embarrassed by it all.”

“Hmm,” Finn hummed as the microwave beeped. He busied himself with emptying the bag of fresh popcorn into the bowl when a knock sounded at the door. “Could you get that, Rey?”

Rey hopped off her seat and stole a handful of popcorn before making her way to the door. “Mmm, so good! It’s just what I need-”

Finn looked up from the bowl when Rey abruptly stopped talking. He furrowed his brow and tried to see who was at the door. “Who is it?” he called out, still craning his neck to see beyond the door.

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before Finn finally gave up waiting and went to see who was at the door himself. He rounded the kitchen bench and stopped in his tracks.

There in the doorway was Kylo, holding his scarf while looking at Rey dumbly. Finn couldn’t see Rey’s face, but he didn’t have to guess what look was on her face. The popcorn fell from her fingers, falling to the floor, ignored.

“Hey,” Kylo managed eventually. “I-er, I’m not a stalker. I came to return Finn’s scarf.”

Rey continued to stare at him, speechless. Finally, she pivoted on the balls of her feet and looked incredulously at Finn. “You know him?”

“Ah, yeah. He’s Poe’s friend. You know, the one I was talking to you about? The one that hates cold drinks,” Finn said, just remembering he had complained about Kylo to her in the past, but always under the guise of ‘Poe’s roommate’ or ‘Poe’s shithead friend’.

Rey swiveled her head back to the man in the doorway. She took two steps forward, ignoring the sound of popcorn crunching under her feet, and fixed him with a hard stare. Then, she slowly asked with a hint of desperation, “Why the fuck do you keep ordering iced coffee?”

#reylo #rey x kylo #rey x kylo ren #benrey #reylo fic #*mine #*fic

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thetullybadger · 4 years

Text

Quantum Deep.

Part One

“Ahhh here man, what is this shite?!”

The statement was quiet, but audible enough to inform everyone of his boredom. His not so dulcet Geordie tones were carried on the stifling air. Everyone looked. Everyone of his team mates giggled, bar the manager and the tour guide. The tour guide looked annoyed. This was probably just due to the amassing number of years both in the sun and fighting gravity, than actual annoyance. Her dearly departed husband had developed problems with his nerves, always believing he was in for a bollocking when their eyes met. Scotty, the vocalist of this exclamation didn’t care about her sun bleached, gravitational drooped facial structure, nor her dearly departed, anxiety ridden husband. He was just a bit pissed off. Righty so, and he wasn’t alone. They were all thinking it. To be fair to them all, this exhibition was a bit shit.

The museum wasn’t on any tourist maps, nor was it immediately obvious from the outside that it was in fact a museum. It was a large wood and tin warehouse, with all the function over grace styling famed by World War 2 architects. From the outside could see the outlines of fences and outposts that once stood in the rocky crops of the Badlands. The once prestigious, yet secretive, military research facility had been purposely built in the arse end of nowhere, South Dakota. It had been the epicentre of ground breaking research into super soldiers and world beating athletes, before abruptly closing down and almost drifting out of existence in the early 80’s. It had but one Trip Advisor review which read, ‘Bad coffee - 2*’. Despite this, their manager, eager for anything that would help prevent another relegation battle and stave off his impending p45, decide they were going.

Said manager, Claudio by name, had sneakily arranged for his Gateshead F.C team to do a training camp in America, to improve the squad for the coming season. The Crafty Italian’s purpose was finding this centre. He came across it on a Instagramer’s conspiracy page. This page, however, also claimed that U.S president Donald Trump and North Korea’s Kim Jong-un are the same person, cleverly disguised with different shades of fake tan and Just for Men. Stranger things have happened, thought Claudio.

When Claudio announced the day long tip North from Sunny Los Angeles to the Badlands there was much disgruntlement among the team who were keen to just sun bathe and knock up a few of the locals, ideally at the same time.

The journey there would be enough to make most sane people get off the bus, walk into the nearest undertakers and climb into a coffin. This is unless you had really bad piles which needed to be bumped back in. And bumped they would be. This road in the badlands had more holes than the British Governments competitive Corporatation tax regime, which as we know, the word competitive in this sentence means absent. Absent also, was most of the road. Still though, anything that gives you an edge, thought Claudio. Their coach driver, who preferred to be called a executive destination agent, had wanted to turn back. Fearful his coach (destination delivery unit) would become filler for some of these potholes. Claudio insisted they press onwards, much to the displeasure of everyone’s bottoms until finally, they arrived.

Claudio, who seemingly struggles at the best of times with his English, piped up in defence of the tour insisting that they could be something here to help them in their careers. Looking around at the rusting pieces of equipment and dated dusty books, the team stood amazed. Not because all the crap in here was about as much use to the modern game of football, as a paralegal is to you getting your mortgage through on time. But rather before now, they all believed Claudio’s English was limited to ‘get the ball’, ‘fuck off’, and ‘4-4-2’. Coincidentally similar to the English used by parents watching their kids play on a Saturday morning.

‘It’s a bit wank though isn’t it gaffa’, muttered Scotty to Claudio when they were nearing the end of the tour. The expression was seemingly lost on on him, but Scotty thought Claudio was probably thinking something similar, in Italian. Claudio wander off to contemplate his fate.

‘Nothing you like?’ Said a voice from a unnoticed doorway in the corner of the room. It was the unfortunately annoyed face of the tour guide, in an now almost suspect German accent. Looking at her now, Scotty noticed she was even older than he first thought, she was like a walking fossil. He wasn’t the first person to wonder if she was actually dead. For some time rumour had circulated that she had died, but being fed up of lying in a box all day, dug herself out and became a tour guide, like many other dead people before her.

“Boredom is often the sign of a great mind,” the tour guide followed up with, staring intently at Scotty. Scotty was flattered by the comment, he’s always thought of himself as being a great thinker, although he chose not to disclose the fact he could probably spell Dundee twice with his GSCE grades.

“The secret to being happier lies in here,” said the tour guide, pointing to the the door behind her. The horny old bat thought Scotty, giving the idea some seriously contemplation. The fossil then walked off in the other direction, leaving Scotty with the kind of conflicting emotions only found in teenage lads between 16 and 19 years - disappointment and relief.

The door creaked open slightly and the dim light struggled to illuminate the dusty descending stair case. Having seen one to many horror films, Scotty’s grey matter was screaming a big ‘fuck no’ and he was about to close the door, when he heard the faintest sound. A cracking old electronic tune with the distinct repetitiveness that could only be a computer game. So, without further thought, off went Scotty down the stairs, almost taking the door off it’s hinges in search of another form of instant gratification. His brain wondered if it was possible to list Scotty on Purple Bricks and find another body to occupy.

The stairs creaked and moaned with all the irritability of arthritic old man in the morning. The air, stuffy with dust from the generations before, suddenly stirred into life and hitched rides on the air currents brought down with Scotty. The light from upstairs raided down the staircase into the vast darkness at the bottom but yielded quickly. Outlines of objects played tricks with Scott’s eyes as he fumbled his hands across the walls in search of a light switch. Old chairs seemed to jump out of nowhere with one sending him careering to the ground, knocking him unconscious in the process. This was just as well, as prior to losing consciousness, Scotty emitted a terrified scream so high pitched, to hear it, you would have though someone, somewhere, had just stood on a sleeping dog. Had that been attributed to him, he would have had to retire from life due to the ribbing he would have relieved from his teammates.

Coming to a short time later and lying spread eagle on the floor, Scotty wondering if he was about to soddomised by whatever had attacked him. He then found himself wondering how he would respond if the sodomiser politely requested he squeal like a pig. A TV suddenly tuned on though and put an end to the thoughts of buggery. It scattered a dim green light through the darkness from which the dust seemed to dance around, the electronic jingle was back. Scotty could now see his attacker was a kitsch velvet dinning chair. The shame of it.

Having uprighted himself from his crumpled heap, Scotty made his way towards the tv. There was another kitsch velvet dining chair in front of the TV. The TV, as deep as it was tall, was perched on a teak sideboard. Resting next to it, a small box. The box was grey, familiar and memorable. On closer inspection it was non other than a first generation Nintendo. ‘Result’ thought Scotty. There was an old cartridge game poking out of it. Scotty pulled out the cartridge for closer inspection. Quantum Leap was the name of the game, not one he was familiar with, but he vaguely remembered the TV show with that lad Sam someone or other. Looking about, his mild concussion fogging his decision making, Scotty exclaimed, “What’s the worse that can happen!” He popped in the game, booted it up and took a seat. Had Scotty had paid closer attention, or even just found a light switch, he would have noticed that this Nintendo was connected to a massive grey, Cold War relic of a machine at the back of the room. The machine clunked into life. The banging and clattering of old pistons was deafening. They heaved and forced movement into the rusting steal clogs that has once had been as lubed as the playboy mansion, now rusted with the arid dryness of Gandi’s unattended sandals. The grinding and banging caused Scotty’s sphincter to tighten so much he had no choice but to stand up to prevent himself being turned inside out.

On the TV screen a large pixilated cartoon was waving to come on in.

PRESS START, loomed on the screen.

Conclusion in control, Scotty pressed start. The Screen flickered for a few moments and then, with all the plagiarised visual effect from the film Tron, Scotty was turned into strips of light and suck into an electronic blackhole to the delightfully reminiscent sound of an internet dial up tone.

Moments later, Scotty rematerialised to find himself bollock naked in a glass tube. Soft blue lighting give a calming glow to an otherwise sinister laboratory. A woman stood in front of him.

As elegantly and as calm as Scotty could be in this situation, he said

“Here man, what the fuck, ye draft cunts. Where am a? Ye kna who I am. Get me oot of this tube or I’ll fuckin knack the lot of ya!”

With that out of the way and indeed with no-one responding, Scotty took in the room and noticed the woman look at him.

Now feeling a little exposed he muttered, “What ye looking at eh?”

“Hello, my name is Twiggy” said the woman.

It was of course not the real Twiggy, the London model and self styled ambassador for the UK, but more a physical representation of her. Twiggy explained that her image had been burned deep with Scott’s genes and this is why she was there, she was to be his guide.

“Hadaway an’ shite! Guide for what?” Demanded Scotty.

The two things Scotty had yet to understand was that his father had and spend most his 20’s and 30’s wanking over Twiggy and was thinking about her the night Scotty was conceived.

‘It’s probably why you like more mature women”, Twiggy later explained.

Scotty protested, he was no Wayne Rooney.

The second thing Scotty failed to realise was that he was now trapped in the the Quantum experiment. An experiment to put the greatest minds on the planet into those in great peril; in order to make decisions and achieve things their own mind wasn’t even capable of grasping. It was designed to help make the world a better place, put a brilliant mind into somewhere where wars could be won, world end events could be prevented and to stop pedo’s making it beyond the 80’s. Instead, sadly, the experiment was highjacked by old scientists, politicians and pedo’s who wanted to live forever.

“Are you ready?” Twiggy asked.

If Scotty was confused about what he was to be ready for, then his mind was about to be blown out of this tube as he, and everything about him, was once again turned into an scintillating electronic light, then sucked into a blackhole. Internet dial up tone jingle to boot.

Everything was now black. Twiggy was speaking.

“Some say that Jumanji, Tron and quantum leap were all written by those who made it of out the Quantum experiment. Those who bettered the thing they became. Many never did and live out there lives in whatever soul and time period they occupied. Some were happy about this, deliberately failing so they could live out lives a rockstars, astronauts or Honey Badgers. Others met a not so happy end as Dung Beatles, farmed salmon or country singers.

“You must better the life of that which you occupy, for both them and the world they inhabit. Succeed and you will move on, fail, and that will be you forever. I ask again, are you ready?”

“Eh?! What the fuck are ye on aboot man?”

“Good, then we’ll start”, replied twiggy.

#writing #writer #scribbles #procrastination #blog #blogging #wordpress

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jiminie-pxrk-blog · 7 years

Text

mother of witches | park jimin x reader [witch hunter au]

pairing: jimin x reader

theme: witch hunter au

warnings: mild smut [in the future], gore [in the future]

word count: 2 221

a.n: forgive my sinful soul, i beg. this is my first bts fanfiction, i hope you enjoy. also, i didn’t proof read so apologies for the mistakes.

“Always the same questions. Who are you, what are you, will you kill me, et cetera.” He waved his hand in annoyance. “You know, for once I’d like someone to ask how I am.”

[part 1] [part 2: coming soon]

sunday 13th of january, edge of the witch woods:

Why had you been so reckless and risen to Nikel’s challenge? Why had you not just looked down, ignored his taunts and walked away, like you always did. You knew this was doomed to fail. You weren’t even a fully fledged hunter, and even the great ones had never managed to capture the mother of witches, let alone kill her.

Maybe it was the way Taz had stared at you seconds before Nikel called out to you. Something about Taz made you feel stronger and more reckless than ever. But you regretted it, because now you were alone, in the wilderness, at the edge of the Witch Woods. Soon, you’d have to leave your steed behind because the trees had treacherous roots that were knobbly and protruded from the ground in the most unnatural way. Soon you’d have no choice but to go on.

“I don’t have a choice anyway.” you whisper to yourself. You had to come out victorious or not at all. How fucking stupid could you? What kind of brainless…

A screech coming from the woods made you jump out of your skin. The woods were still half a mile away and you could barely make them out in the clearing fog, but the sound had still travelled all the way to you, making you heart beat faster and your become cold. Something told you it was time. You unsaddled your horse and set it free, stomped out the fire, threw away the remaining tea that had been steeping for over an hour and shouldered your pack. No turning back.

The edge of the woods drew near at an alarming rate, even as you made a conscious effort to walk slowly. The trees on the outer rim grew so close together, you weren’t even sure your horse could have set foot in there. All you could hear was your own footsteps and breath. Another step and you were in. I can still turn back, you thought to yourself, almost pleading with your ego to let you tuck your tail and run away. But you didn’t. You felt drawn, as if chains had been placed around your ankles and you were being dragged. The Witch Woods called you.

You slowly slipped through the trees.

The woods were dark. The trees grew tall and close together, very little light seeped through the high branches. Fog covered the ground in a thick blanket and parted only briefly whenever you took a step. You felt afraid. Anxiety gnawed at your bones, making them itch in the oddest of ways. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you looked around.

No one had ever been able to draw a map of the Witch Woods. Some had come out alive, not even encountering a witch or anything odd, but most of those who entered had either died, had an unpleasant encounter or come out victorious, with the heart of a witch and many tales to tell.

The only thing you could do was try and go deeper into the woods. By chance, you’d stumble upon the lair of the mother of witches. Surviving such an encounter was improbable, but you went on anyway.

tuesday 15th of january, witch woods:

The fog didn’t let for the first two days you explored the woods. The cold was constant and damp, making its way through your clothes and into your bones. Every night, you dug a hole and lit a small fire over which you cooked an odourless stew of vegetables before covering it with dirt and sleeping on the warm patch of earth. Survival had been your only strong point back at the academy. You weren’t a great fighter, counter magic was your weakest subject and other than botany, you were a general failure. It wasn’t for lack of studying, it’s almost all you ever did do. No. Most said you just didn’t have potential. Taz disagreed, but he really was the only one to do so.

You sat against a large root feeling utterly miserable. You missed Taz. You missed the academy. You missed Nikel’s sly grin, as much as you loathed it. You missed everything about the outside world. It’s as though you were stuck in a bubble, locked in by roots and fog. You placed your head on your knees and let out a small sob.

When you lifted your head, the fog had parted, as if to create a path for you. You blinked, eyes still puffed from crying. You stood up cautiously, feeling a bit weak. Compelled to follow the freshly cleared path, you shouldered your pack and took a cautious step.

The path seemed to snake through the trees for an eternity, but you were determined to get to the end of it. What could have created it? Were you walking right into a witch’s trap? Possibly. But you went on. Finally, you were able to make out a clearing between the trees. You accelerated. The clearing drew near and you could just about see green. Grass? You accelerated, breaking into a sprint and pushing through the last trees and bushes.

Panting, you let the scene sink in. Grass, a rock illuminated by the sun, an apple tree…

You stared for a long time before taking a few hesitant steps. The ground was soft and the lack of roots sprouting from every direction made your steps easier. It took you a few minutes to realise you were smiling. Something about the place was distinctly off, but… You couldn’t help but want to laugh.

You walked towards the sunlit rock and sat down slowly. It was large and flat and most of all, warm. After a few extra second, you leaned back and laid down, closing your eyes and soaking up the sunlight.

Finger tips brushed your lips. Your eyes opened in panic as you jolted up right. No more was the sunlight and grass. You were awkwardly strewn across a root, your pack by your side. Had you fallen asleep?

“Thought that may wake you.” said a voice. The mere sound of it seemed to dim the already low light. You turn to see a man, sitting atop a root directly behind you. You let out a yelp, catching yourself before you toppled over. “Now, now. Don’t panic.”

“Who-”

“Am I?” he completed your sentence and sighed. “Always the same questions. Who are you, what are you, will you kill me, et cetera.” He waved his hand in annoyance. “You know, for once I’d like someone to ask how I am. It’s very tiring to always define the who. Some days, even I don’t l know, so how could I tell you who I am?” You blinked.

“Uh. How are you?” you asked hesitantly, not even sure why that mattered in this situation.

“I’m all right. A little under the weather. It’s so… dull around here. What about you?”

“Are you a witch?” you blurted, unable to not address the elephant in the room.

“That’s not how it works, you know.” He chastised you, giving you a jokingly pitiful smile. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine.” you said, scowling. “Are-”

“That’s a lie. You’re awfully pale.”

“I’m scared out of my wits.” you concede.

“That’s better. A little honesty never hurt a soul.”

“Are-”

“Yes, yes I am. Then again, it should come as no surprise, you did walk into my home, uninvited may I add, you can’t exactly expect to not be hearing from your host.” He was still perched on the root near you, looking effortlessly comfortable and very at home indeed. Your eyes darted to your pack and you took a small step towards it, unsure whether to run or to fight.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, thinking of a way to buy yourself a bit of time. He let out a long sigh.

“Maybe.” He picked at the bark on the root he was sitting on.

One second, he was entirely relaxed and the next he had sprung at you, his mass hitting you in the chest. You had enough reflexes to use the momentum to kick him off you in mid air, but you nonetheless landed flat on your back with a loud and painful thud. You scrambled to get yourself upright, head ringing. Your head spun. Counter magic. Defence. Attack. Flight. Everything you’d learnt was dancing in your mind. You needed to stop him from looking into it. The quickest way to shut your mind down was pain.

You punched the root besides you hard enough for your skin to split on your knuckles. You had to let your instinct guide you and not think. Thinking was the best way to lose to a witch. You focused on your environment for a second before realising he was just sitting on another root, smiling.

“It’s cute seeing you get all worked up over nothing.” He commented nonchalantly. And before you could retort or charge he was gone, leaving you alone.

saturday 19th of january, witch woods:

You spent the next four days nursing your hand. As soon as the adrenaline had fled, the pain had become much worse.There was no sign of life anywhere, and it had been three days sign you’d heard a bird. You were running low on supplies. The witch hadn’t appeared again either, which was a relief.

You were almost a week into your exploration in the woods, and every single day seemed to drag on longer and longer. You only came across water twice, so you had to use it sparingly. The deeper into the woods you went, the more you felt alone.

Night was beginning to fall on the 6th day, as you heard, for the first time, a noise that wasn’t something one would typically hear in a forest. The sound of drums. You tried to find the direction from which it came and followed it, quickening your pace. You were cautious, as you neared, treading lightly. Finally, you arrived, at a place that seemed and felt familiar. A clearing. You didn’t run, this time. You crawled towards, concealing yourself as best you could. You hid in the bushes and parted them gently as the sounds of drums became deafening.

In the clearing danced a dozen people, all holding hands. They danced around the rock you were sure you’d seen in that odd dream. Under the apple tree stood a few children, beating drums rhythmically.

It hurt to lie still and watch them. The drums made your skin crawl and heart race. Your eyes wandered back to the dancing witches, when suddenly, your eyes locked with his. Him. The witch you had met a few days ago. He was dressed elegantly, in silver clothing that matched his hair colour. He smiled directly at you. Breaking away from the others, he walked towards you with confidence. Frozen in place as your heart filled with dread, you could feel each step vibrating in the earth as he stopped before you.

“[y.n]” There was a long pause where both of you stared at the other. And he extended a hand to you. Reaching up, you took it and he pulled you up right. “You’re late. I was wondering when you’d come. No matter. The night is young.” The drums became more intense and he lead you into the moving mass of witches.

You danced. Your body was no longer cold. You were no longer stiff from the long nights on the hard free roots. You were no longer is any kind of pain. All thoughts of Taz and the academy had been banished. You felt so free. It’s almost as though you had been unleashed. You danced with the witch. You danced with many other witches you. You danced alone. You held the hands of everyone present. Not a word was exchanged between you and anyone else. You had just been wordlessly accepted.

You danced for what seemed hours. You had ripped your boots and leather armour off, dancing in your loose white tunic, barefoot on the warm and soft ground. And you went on until the drums quieted down, gently, gently they slowed, until they were as gentle and soft as the heart of a sleeping infant. One by one the witches dropped to the ground, as if suddenly overcome by sleep.

You stood amidst the bodies that gently rose and fell. Another silhouette still stood. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight as he turned to you. He beckoned to you. Still entranced, you joined him and he wrapped his arms around you. Your stomach fluttered. He was still slightly out of breath. He lead you to the rock where you both stood. He placed your hands on his shoulders and let his hands drop to your hips. You opened your mouth to speak.

“Shhh.” he hushed you, placing a finger on your lips. You nodded and the two of you swayed gently. After what seemed an eternity, you both laid down on the rock. The drums stopped. Your eyes began to close. His lips brushed your cheek and whispered in your ear “[y.n], my name is Jimin.”

You barely caught what he said as your eyes closed entirely and you fell into a deep, deep sleep.

a.n: i’ll get to part 2 as soon as I’ve had a good night’s sleep. Criticism is appreciated, and requests are accepted! Thanks for reading

#park jimin #jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin imagine #witch hunter au #mother of witches #nean writes #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #fanfiction #au #witches

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