#i have proof he scuttles in my house | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

votederpycausemufins · 3 years

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more content for the SF series! (since the first one was Summoning Family and now it's Surprisingly Familiar). i can't believe it's chapter 5. and i'm not sure if i mean can't believe it's only ch. 5, or already ch. 5. you know, both is good!

Edit: iforgottotagpeople iforgottotagpeople iforgottotagpeople!!! @petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel forgive meeeee

“Let me take care of one thing before we explore the rest of the server.” Sense spoke up, Grian only half paying attention. “You can explore as you see fit, but I wouldn’t wander too far.”

As the redstoner walked away, Grian went the other direction for a few steps before stopping. “Are you going to keep following me around or what?” There was no immediate answer, but then someone appeared near Grian.

“Well, you look different than before.” Came an echoey voice from the figure who was greyed out and transparent. “What happened?”

“I’m from the past, but not the past here, so I’m not going to be able to fix whatever is wrong with you.” Grian replied, crossing his arms. It had already been explained that Grifter went looking for a new dimension to find alternate versions of his family since apparently the real versions weren’t the best. Grian didn’t fully believe it at this point, but Sense said Grifter would bring back some proof, which was a little worrying.

“There’s nothing you need to fix for me.” The ghost, because that’s all it could be, responded. “There is no business I have unfinished that you could finish for me. And that’s fine with me. It means I can help and explore with little worry, though I do like this castle.”

“Right.” Grian responded, unsure how to feel about the ghost. He already dealt with a few at school, some better than others, so he wasn’t exactly sure how this one would act. “Well, I would like if you stopped following me around.”

“Alright Grifter.” The ghost replied, and then left, going down a hallway before disappearing. Even with them gone, Grian still felt on edge, so he didn’t go far, just going back to where he had been left. When Sense did finally come back, Grifter was with him again, which finally helped Grian feel a bit safer again.

“Alright, so, I’ve talked with a few people to make sure they don’t cause problems as well as pick up some papers with information you might want to know. And you don’t need to worry about it getting damaged because it’s magically protected.”

“Your magic, or other Listeners?” Grian asked, which surprised Grifter. He looked over to Sense who didn’t look as concerned and quickly explained.

“I gave Grian a quick tour of the castle and explained some things along the way. About the magic from being a Listener. How Grian may still have magic but is also still considered in-training so his magic is much weaker. How you came here trying to dimension hop for Taurtis again and how that went. Things like that.”

Grifter smiled and gave Sense a kiss, which he used to quietly whisper a message to him. He then pulled back and made sure Grian definitely heard him the second time he spoke to keep up appearances. “Thank you. And he took it well? I mean… I- he does look a little…”

Grian crossed his arms. “I’m fine. I’ve got the basics which is already pretty helpful. If I can learn how to use magic, I might be able to use that when I go back and save Taurtis since obviously new dimensions are off the table again.”

Grifter raised an eyebrow and Sense elaborated. “So far he’s only hopped once and got rid of their second universe versions.”

“It would be complicated if there were two of us. I mean, it’s already complicated enough with you and me and we look pretty different, what with you being older and all.”

“Yeah, same sentiment when I got here.” Grifter agreed. “Essentially this place is all flipped around. I mean, dad here is Death instead of mom, the Sam here was good, The me- you- us here was like some sort of god and got imprisoned. Stuff like that. People see me and think I’m the one that got imprisoned, so they used his name for me, and I mean, it’s pretty close to Grian.”

“You really don’t mind?” Grian asked, making Grifter shrug.

“Well, either way the nickname is Gri, so I don’t mind too terribly much. And it’s better than… you know.”

Grian shuddered a little before Grifter started leading them all away, putting the small stack of papers he had into a bag and giving the bag to Grian. The teen took the bag and opened it up to look inside, finding the newly added papers as well as a bunch of pink things. Pulling one out, Grian was surprised to find it was a sword, and another a shovel. He put those back in and then pulled out some yellow carrots, which seemed to glitter as he held them in the light. “What is all of this?”

Grifter turned around to face Grian, walking backwards a few steps to see what was being talked about. “Oh, that’s a bunch of starter gear. I mean, normally it would be iron, but I doubt you wanted that, and I’m sort of in charge around here - long story - so I upgraded you to aetherite which is as good as you can get here. You’ve got a sword, pick, axe, shovel, and a full set of armor. I’ve also given you golden carrots and plenty of steak so you won’t be hurting for food. Also there’s a crossbow and plenty of stuff to load it with, like arrows, darts and fireworks.”

Grian nodded slowly, looking through the bag again. “Okay, can I like… get trained how to use these? I mean I sort of know how to use this stuff from, you know. But I mean, can I get a gun or something?”

“Oh of course!” Sense was the one to reply, putting down a shulker box. “What type are you after? Standard or more upgraded?”

“Handgun with plenty of ammo before reloading sounds best.” Grian said, looking into the box. Sense helped him find one that fit what he liked as well as ammo that matched, and then it went in the bag.

“I still think you should train with the other weapons to be safe, but gun still is better than umbrella.” Grifter commented, getting a look from Grian before he confirmed that, yes, someone’s main weapon of choice around there was an umbrella.

“Alright, now that you’re geared up, let’s get on with a proper tour!”

A good sized team entered into Helscraft, consisting of Mumbo, Grum (Jrum wanted to stay behind and watch Kokatori, but Mumbo thought it might also be some fear of getting stranded again), Doc, Tommy, Phil, Xisuma, and Paul. Wilbur and Techno also tagged along when they heard the news, refusing to let their brother disappear again. More of the hermits wanted to go, but with the two triplets refusing to take no for an answer and Xisuma not wanting to take too many people to hels at once, they didn’t really have room.

Xisuma attempted to get all of them to the main spawn island for the world, but that didn’t quite work out with everyone except him arriving there. That was soon followed by Grum taking charge and leading them through the world and to the foot of a black and yellow building, which he knocked on the door of.

A few minutes later, the doors finally opened to someone in dark red armor and a helmet with a much more standard design. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” The person said, looking just at Grum at first. “Oh, it’s you. If NPG isn’t at home, he’s probably-”

“No. We need Xisuma back.” Grum spoke up, and this time the person looked up at the rest of the group and sighed.

“Honestly, I finally got him back here again and you’ve got to take him away immediately? Here I thought it was finally something to improve this… horrid week. What do you need him for anyway? Isn’t he just a chauffeur or whatever?”

Tommy was the first to respond, pushing to the front of the group. “Look bitch, we don’t want to deal with any more shit right now. Just hand over him and Grian so we can leave.”

Though the red tinted visor, Tommy could just barely see the hels admin raise an eyebrow. “Grian? My brother is the only one here from wels not in your group.”

“Wrong answer fucker! We know that Gr-” Tommy was cut off as something lowered from the ceiling. Everyone stared as a pink worm on a string descended from somewhere inside the door. It had yellow paper cutouts of a mask, cape and M decorating it, and it kept getting lower until it was eye level with Evil Xisuma, then lightly bonked against his helmet a few times.

The way the hels admin slumped slightly and his eyes stared back just showing how done he was with everything. “Would you excuse me for just one second?” He said, and then the worm started to go back up before EX grabbed it, trapping it in a fist, then yanking down, someone falling from the ceiling a moment later. “Get out of my house Phedaz.”

The helsmit with dark blue hair, matching pale blue skin that faded to black on his arms and pitch black eyes picked up the discarded worm on a string before scuttling off through the door on all fours, racing past the team after Grian. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Phedaz.” EX said in a bored and defeated tone. “He’s been doing that all week. I just wanted to torture my brother a little to blow off some steam, is that too much to ask?”

“When we’re looking for Grian, it really is.” Mumbo spoke up, making the Helsmit sigh.

“Well, Grian’s not here, only NPG. Not even Grifter is here, and he hasn’t been here for a day or two now. That being said, Sense did leave a few hours ago, likely to meet up with that bastard.”

“Okay, so where are they?” Paul spoke up, getting EX’s attention.

The hels admin stared at Paul before pulling out a potion of some sorts and chugging it. “I’m not sane enough for this right now. Go talk with Theseus will you? Come back here when you need to leave or whatever and I’ll let you have him.”

“Alright! And that’s about it for the tour!” Grifter said cheerily as he, Grian, Sense, and now the two hels bots arrived at the castle again. “Now as a reminder, you should do your best to stay away from any areas we did not tour just to be on the safe side. The one exception would be where Euro and Krys are staying, but it’s far enough away I wouldn’t bother, plus Silski always likes to visit and staying away from him in general is a good idea.”

Grifter was going to say more, but then Sense stopped walking. “Oh for fucks sake, he’s back.”

Grian looked over to where Sense was looking and saw someone vaguely familiar leaning against the castle wall. They wore a trench coat and a beanie that struggled to hold down their very puffy brown and grey hair and they also held a guitar, quietly strumming a few cords. “Hey, you’re back. Missed you at the show.”

Before Grian could ask any questions, Grifter stomped over to the person, followed by Sense who was getting out a weapon. “Off the property Wile.”

“Pay me.”

“I’m not paying you. Leave.”

The person, Wile, stared Grifter down for a few seconds before shrugging. “Nah, gotta pay me first. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” And he started to play the first few notes of a song. He didn’t get far though, because Sense walked up to him. He didn’t even use his weapon to attack, simply yanking the guitar from his hands and smashing it against the castle wall in one fluid motion.

Wile looked down at the broken pieces of his instrument for a moment before pulling out a second guitar and continuing the song. Sense yelled in frustration while Grifter pulled a few feathers out of his wings. Grian reacted more than his copy, wincing at what was likely painful, but the hels didn’t mind. He instead used the pulled feathers as knives, stabbing them into Wile until he dropped to the ground, dead.

“Oh my god! Is he dead?!” Grian yelled after the person didn’t move for a while.

“Yes and no.” Grifter replied, kicking the body to the side. “He respawns, it’s just his corpse stays with his shit in it. Seesee, would you be a dear?” Sense didn’t get a chance to react as Sefter walked up first and heaved the body over his head, then chucked it as far as he could away from the castle. “Hmm, well that works too I guess.”

Grian stared in the direction of Wile’s corpse before turning back to Grifter. “Who… Who was that?”

“Wile.” Grifter replied. “Essentially the Wilbur here. The only plus to him over Wil is that he mostly just sticks to L’Manberg.”

“Oh? Where’s that?” Grian asked. It wasn’t a place they really covered in the tour, but a few other countries had been mentioned.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t want you heading over there.” Grifter replied. “Sense, back me up here.”

Grian was a little surprised by Grifter calling the redstone by his name and not a nickname. “I know you said you’re… well you’re most likely over eighteen.”

“I am, but what does that have to do with it?” Grian asked, rolling his eyes slightly.

“L’Manberg’s a stripclub.”

That left Grian silent for a few seconds before he simply said, “Oh.”

“Well, now that things are awkward, I suppose you could meet some of the better parts of the family. They weren’t around for so long, they won’t be able to tell that past me isn’t past Grifter.”

“Who exactly is everyone here?” Grian asked, following Grifter as he started to walk off away from the castle again, Sense and the bots heading inside.

“Alright, I already covered Dad being Death.” Grifter started to explain. “Technically there’s another death which is his brother, but we don’t really cover him. Mom is named Krystina, or just Krys.” Grifter then gestured to where Wile’s body was thrown. “We already covered Wilbur and Wile. Instead of Techno, we have Euro, who mostly lives with Krys. Theseus is Tommy, and he’s moved elsewhere.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more?” Grian asked with slight hesitance.

Grifter shrugged. “Because there is. That’s just the bit you’re familiar with. Even though Wile’s a stripper, he is married to Sadie. Sadie has a kid named Fleur who’s a little older than you are right now. Krys also half adopted Silski, so technically that’s another sibling but I won’t count them. If you do want to, then they’re married and have a kid, but that’s not really important.”

“So… Sadie, Fleur, Silski, and two other people?” Grian asked, making sure he was following along. “Can I know their names just to be safe?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Silski’s married to this guy named Toob and they adopted a kid named Jane. Well, technically it’s ꄘ꒓ꂑꋫꁍꀭꆂ꒒ꁕ, but pronouncing that is a mess so they named her Jane instead.”

“Right… Do you have anywhere I can write this down?”

After what happened with Tommy before, the entire group was ready to attack if need be. Paul was the one to knock on the throne room door, willing to be the first line of defense. There was no answer at first, but footsteps from behind the door had everyone put their guard up. They all waited with bated breath before finally the large doors opened, and then Grian poked his head out.

Mumbo, Tommy and Grum all quickly recognized that it wasn’t actually the missing hermit, but the others were too worried that they reacted too fast. “Oi Grian, what the fuck was all that mate?”

After a moment, NPG pulled themself out of the hug Phil had trapped them in. “I am sorry for the confusion. I am NPG, not Grian. You came here not too long ago.” The robot then looked over to Wilbur, Doc and Paul. “Though you did not visit and I have not met you in person before.”

Tommy quickly spoke up and introduced people. “That’s Wil, Doc, and this guy’s named Paul. Grian kinda got kidnapped, so we’re back here looking for him instead.”

“Oh no! Did you check your old server again just to be safe?”

“Grifter’s the bitch that kidnapped him.” Tommy said, crossing his arms. “If he’s there, I’ll eat my compass.”

NPG nodded, then went back into the throne room and the group could hear him talking to someone that had Tommy’s voice. They stood there listening until NPG finally shouted approval for the group to enter.

“Well this is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see any of you again that soon.” Theseus spoke from his throne. He still was wearing his mask that looked like Dream’s, which made Tommy shudder a little as well as had Grum hiding behind Mumbo. “So, you’re after my brother. Hah, good luck with that.”

“You better fucking tell us something bitch!”

Theseus didn’t immediately reply to Tommy’s shout, instead handing off a paper to NPG, who happily took it and ran off. “Look, I haven’t seen him since he dragged me back to Dad. Technically he’s been here, but just stayed away. He’s admin of my old world now, so he’s probably stuck there. Sense also left recently, so I would guess he’s there too.”

“So, You’re saying we need to go through another version of the smp to find Grian?” Techno was the one to ask. “Ours was already pretty rough, how bad is this one?”

“Your creeper friend there is supposed to be Prof, right?” Theseus asked, his visible eyebrow raising in question.

“Yeah… he is.” Grum answered, peeking out from behind Mumbo for a moment. “Why?”

“Has he ever built a prison?”

“Well, he built Area 77 if that counts.” Mumbo answered, but Theseus just rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing that doesn’t count.”

“Oh definitely not. If what NPG says is right, it let people waltz right in.”

“Those were guided tours, man.” Doc replied. “And that’s just recent. I’ve done plenty of defenses back when we had the mycelium war.”

“Ooh, ah, defenses.” Theseus deadpanned. “Get real. Those aren’t what I’m asking about.”

“He’s asking about The Perd.” Paul spoke up. “Which yeah, he mostly built that himself.”

Theseus smiled and nodded, while everyone else looked confused, except for Doc himself and also Phil, who just looked stunned. “Wait, he’s the guy who made The Perdit-”

“Hey man, you can’t just go throwing that name around.” Doc spoke up, cutting Phil off. “The less people know, the better.”

Phil gestured to Paul. “And so he knows about it, why?”

“I was one of the testers.” Paul responded. “Really think I can’t get out of that vault of yours now?”

“We’re getting off topic.” Wilbur was the one to speak up. “Since this creeper guy has made that prison thing, is that good or not?”

“Very good.” Theseus replied. “Prof had to trap Grifter when he wasn’t an admin, so imagine what he’s doing as admin. Having your version of Dad is going to be good, but one of him is also better. And I guess also this guy here is good to have too.” Theseus added, glancing at Paul.

“What can you tell us about your old world.” Mumbo asked. “I’m sure even those from our version will be a bit lost since I can hardly wrap my head around this one.”

“Oh I could tell you plenty. I could say every little detail I went through in my years there. I’m sure plenty of it would be repetitive though, and I don’t really know what’s the same and what’s different.” Theseus explained. “But I can tell you what I do know.”

“And what’s that?” Phil asked, hoping that looking like the Phil here would help things.

“Well, when I was in that other place, your respawns were a fucking mess. Technically three respawns but it always depended on some shitty admin’s code.” Theseus stood up to make a point. “Instead You always respawn as long as you’ve got a place to respawn to. But if someone finds your anchor and breaks it, well, I wouldn’t die if I were you. Technically, there was more to it so Nightmare could try to get around his own rules, but it obviously didn’t work.”

“Is that it?” Tommy asked. “Lives are just done differently?”

Theseus rolled his eyes before sharply turning his head towards Tommy. “Well excuse me. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the fucking admin over there anymore, bitch. Neither is Nightmare. I only knew about you having fucked up lives because of that thing there!” And he gestured towards Grum. “I don’t know your lives. I don’t know your world. So I don’t know what to fucking tell you that’s going to fucking help. At this point, you’re likely to know more than me!”

Everything was silent other than Theseus’ heavy breathing from yelling until there was a creak from the door as NPG came back in. “Is everyone okay? Thee? Do you want me to get Rusty?”

Theseus was still quiet, though he straightened his posture and his mask, then spoke. “No. I think I’ll be fine. Can you take these guys to Xannes? I’m done dealing with them.”

“Okay! I can do that!” NPG replied, and then he was leading the group out, being helped by threats Theseus was giving the group under the robot’s nose.”

When they returned to the admin’s base, he was disappointed to see them back so soon, but did allow Xisuma out of his ‘torture chamber’ - if it could really be called that - and let him take the team of people to the NSMP.

Xisuma took them into the other world and was suddenly glad his helmet was a filter. Tommy pulled his bandanna over his nose after gagging at the smell of the place while everyone but two of them reacted similarly. Since they had been there before, Phil and Mumbo knew what to expect. Techno also knew, but his sense of smell was enhanced from being a hybrid, so it didn’t help. And then while Tommy had been in the group before, at that point he had been replaced by Theseus and never actually went into the NSMP.

Not wanting to stick around in one place, the group started travelling, hoping for some sort of landmark that was more than just rubble and possibly someone nice enough to help them out.

But back on Helscraft, Xannes was upset the moment the group was gone, and a moment after that, he sent himself to the palace to meet with Theseus. Lightning crackled around him in his rage, pushing aside anyone who even stepped in his line of sight.

“Theseus!” He shouted as the doors to the throne room were broken. “What the fuck did I just send them into?!”

Theseus looked up at the admin. “The NSMP. Why? Did you somehow not?”

“Something intercepted them. I mean, I tried hacking them through the whitelist, so it should have-”

“That place doesn’t have a white list last I checked.” Theseus said. “Nightmare never gave it one. He made access public. There was just a little… test of sorts to get through first.”

Xannes didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of test?”

“One that I’m sure they’ll get through. The question is how long it will take them. If they’re lucky? Hmm, maybe a few days.”

Xannes didn’t bother listening to more as he followed along the group he just sent ahead of him. He ended up in the same place the group did, in the spawn of the DSMP. And if it weren’t for the fact that Xannes could feel his hacking powers get limited, he would have thought it was the regular world. “Fine. I guess we’re doing this all the hard way.”

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

Note

Daenerys's heart is a dragon not like Cersei's heart who was Tommen has belong to someone else, and even Sansa's heart will be herself.

I got this ask in reference to this post that I wrote back in 2017, especially this quote:

Someplace no stag ever found … though a dragon might.

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne III

I don’t really get your message Anon, I didn’t mention Dany’s or Cersei’s heart in my post. So, I will repeat my point for anyone interested:

“Where?” Brienne slapped another silver stag down.

He flicked the coin back at her with his forefinger. “Someplace no stag ever found … though a dragon might.” Silver would not get the truth from him, she sensed. Gold might, or it might not. Steel would be more certain. Brienne touched her dagger, then reached into her purse instead. She found a golden dragon and put in on the barrel. “Where?”

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne III

From this last quote I want to rescue this line: “Someplace no stag ever found… though a dragon might.” These words are talking about stags and dragons, not silver and gold, just the animals that the coins bare on one side. The stag is the sigil of House Baratheon and the dragon is the sigil of House Targaryen. And this makes me think about the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, where the first and the fifth of its final champions belonged to these houses. And according to this theory: “When you look at the names of the champions’ families and the fact they fight for a 13 year old maid, especially with the family Hardyng, we find out that they correspond strongly with Sansa’s suitors in A Song of Ice and Fire.” (*)

So, following the pattern established by the five final champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, I believe that the stag in this line represents Joffrey Baratheon (Sansa’s first betrothed), while the Dragon who might find Sansa is Jon Snow, the Targaryen Champion (Sansa’s actual betrothed). This last idea is going to be developed throughout this post.

(*) I would like to make some precisions: 1) The events of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow developed in ‘The Hedge Knight’ novella. 2) The champions are the final five after the first day of jousting. We don’t know the results after the second day of jousting and the third day was the Trial of Seven. 3) The queen of love and beauty at the beginning of the tourney was the 13 years old daughter of Lord Ashford. The champions weren’t fighting for her, the final five champions after the third day of jousting would decide if they crowned a new QoLaB or not.

(…)

Let’s go back to this line: “Someplace no stag ever found… though a dragon might.” In the text the word ‘someplace’ refers to where Brienne’s supposed “sister” is -the beautiful highborn maid of three-and-ten that has blue eyes and auburn hair-. But in the history of ASOIAF universe, the word ‘someplace’ could also refer to the heart of a Stark girl.

Joffrey and Jon, Jon and Joffrey. I have a theory about them, I called it the ‘JoJo Theory’. Maybe one day I will turn my thoughts on them into words. But for now, let’s talk about these two in relation to Sansa.

Joffrey and Jon are supposed to be the sons of two best friends: Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark respectively. But none of them are really that. And I think they both were living the other’s life. I mean, Joffrey took Jon’s real place in the world, as Jon took Joffrey’s.

Joffrey, who is supposed to be the trueborn son and heir of King Robert Baratheon, is truly a little shit bastard, the illegitimate child of Jaime Lannister. And he is the vicious, despicable type of bastard as well.

On the other hand, Jon who is suppose to be the baseborn son of Ned Stark, is actually the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the last Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne. And he is the very opposite of the vicious, despicable Joffrey. Jon is brave and has a noble heart.

Also note that the real fathers of Joffrey and Jon are the men who Cersei and Lyanna choose over Robert; that is to say: Jaime and Rhaegar.

So, reading again this line: “Someplace no stag ever found… though a dragon might.”, we know that in the past that line was true, as Robert Baratheon never found his way to Lyanna Stark’s heart unlike Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. And it could be true again, in the future, as Joffrey (no stag) never really found his way to Sansa’s heart, but Jon (who is also a dragon) might do. Let’s see:

His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers. Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon I

Jon was obviously jealous of Joffrey, in the same fashion he was of Robb. Joffrey was ‘trueborn’, a royal prince, the heir of the Iron Throne, with a place of honor at the table just below the dais where the King and Queen were seated, handsome, taller than him despite being younger, and on top of all that, Joffrey got the beautiful radiant girl by his side. Jon just couldn’t believe why, while having all of that, Joffrey and his pouty wormy lips gave Winterfell’s Great Hall a bored and disdainful look.

You don’t believe Jon was jealous of Joffrey? Read this then:

“Then you saw us all. Prince Joffrey and Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella, my brothers Robb and Bran and Rickon, my sisters Arya and Sansa. You saw them walk the center aisle with every eye upon them and take their seats at the table just below the dais where the king and queen were seated.”

“I remember.”

“And did you see where I was seated, Mance?” He leaned forward. “Did you see where they put the bastard?”

—A Storm of Swords - Jon

I know that in this scene, Jon was trying to convince Mance that he really wanted to join the freefolk. He was trying to deceive him and infiltrate into the enemy’s camp. Despite that, the things Jon said to Mance at that moment, rang true. So in the end, Jon did convince Mance and he ended up joining the freefolk, as a covert mission entrusted to him by Qhorin Halfhand.

Still you don’t believe me when I said Jon was jealous of Joffrey? Listen to Sansa herself then:

“What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He’s very gallant, don’t you think?”

“Jon says he looks like a girl,” Arya said.

Sansa sighed as she stitched. “Poor Jon,” she said. “He gets jealous because he’s a bastard.”

“He’s our brother,” Arya said, much too loudly. Her voice cut through the afternoon quiet of the tower room.

—A Game of Thrones, Arya I

Now tell me that Jon saying ‘Joffrey looks like a girl’ is not proof enough of Jon Snow being obviously jealous of the crown prince.

But Jon Snow who knows nothing, except, maybe, that Joffrey is truly a little shit, has no idea that Joffrey was living his life.

And his sisters cousins, Sansa and Arya, unbeknownst to him, expose this truth to Ned while talking about Joffrey’s hair color (note that Ned always knew who Jon’s real father is):

“Father, I only just now remembered, I can’t go away, I’m to marry Prince Joffrey.” She tried to smile bravely for him. “I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies.”

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.”

“He is!“ Sansa insisted. “I don’t want someone brave and gentle, I want him. We’ll be ever so happy, just like in the songs, you’ll see. I’ll give him a son with golden hair, and one day he’ll be the king of all the realm, the greatest king that ever was, as brave as the wolf and as proud as the lion.

"Arya made a face. "Not if Joffrey’s his father,” she said. “He’s a liar and a craven and anyhow he’s a stag, not a lion.”

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

"All three are Jaime’s,” he said. It was not a question.

“Thank the gods.”

The seed is strong, Jon Arryn had cried on his deathbed, and so it was. All those bastards, all with hair as black as night. Grand Maester Malleon recorded the last mating between stag and lion, some ninety years ago, when Tya Lannister wed Gowen Baratheon, third son of the reigning lord. Their only issue, an unnamed boy described in Malleon’s tome as a large and lusty lad born with a full head of black hair, died in infancy. Thirty years before that a male Lannister had taken a Baratheon maid to wife. She had given him three daughters and a son, each black-haired. No matter how far back Ned searched in the brittle yellowed pages, always he found the gold yielding before the coal.

“A dozen years,” Ned said. “How is it that you have had no children by the king?”

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

I can clearly imagine Ned thinking about how he had to hide Jon Snow, the heir of the Last Dragon, as his bastard; while Joffrey, an actual bastard, was living the life that could have been Jon’s, had Rhaegar prevailed over Robert.

This kind of ‘switched at birth’ case between Jon and Joffrey and the possibility of Jon being Sansa’s fifth Targaryen betrothed, is actually foreshadowed in the Books. Let’s read this passage from Sansa’s first chapter in ACOK:

The morning of King Joffrey’s name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. “What do you think it means?” she asked him.

“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. “I’ve heard servants calling it the Dragon’s Tail.”

“King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son,” Ser Arys said. “He is the dragon’s heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey’s ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies.

"Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey’s enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king’s command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The comet was red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn’t the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?

— A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

See? From “Glory to your betrothed,” to “King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son” “He is the dragon’s heir” Every word from Arys Oakheart’s mouth evokes Jon, not Joffrey. Joffrey is not a dragon, far less the dragon’s heir; he’s not even a stag.

If Joffrey had truly been the son of Robert Baratheon, he indeed would have had a bit of Targaryen blood, because Robert’s grandmother was the Princess Rhaelle Targaryen, but that’s not the case.

And the red comet could never be ‘Joffrey’s Comet’ as Sansa correctly pointed out when she said: “Shouldn’t the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?” The servants were right; the red comet was related to dragons, just as the person who knows everything in ASOIAF stated emphatically:

Bran asked Septon Chayle about the comet while they were sorting through some scrolls snatched from the library fire. "It is the sword that slays the season,” he replied, and soon after the white raven came from Oldtown bringing word of autumn, so doubtless he was right.

Though Old Nan did not think so, and she’d lived longer than any of them. “Dragons,” she said, lifting her head and sniffing. She was near blind and could not see the comet, yet she claimed she could smell it. “It be dragons, boy,” she insisted. Bran got no princes from Nan, no more than he ever had.

Hodor said only, “Hodor.” That was all he ever said.

—A Clash of Kings - Bran I

Sadly the last part of this passage from Sansa’s first chapter in ACOK, also foreshadowed the Red Wedding. The Lannisters once more would take her family from her; this time Catelyn and Robb.

But let’s stick with the good part, the part where she is called the betrothed of the dragon’s heir, that is not Joffrey, but Jon Snow, her own Dragonknight, her Black Knight of the Wall, her dark haired prince hiding in the north. We can only hope that this time the betrothal will end in a real marriage, because Sansa’s betrothal record isn’t so good thus far:

Joffrey Baratheon (the Psychopath Bastard), the betrothal was broken.

Willas Tyrell (the Cripple), the betrothal was cancelled.

Tyrion Lannister (the Imp), the marriage was not consummated.

Harrold Hardying (the Arse), the betrothal still stands but the bride is Alayne Stone.

Jon Snow (is dead but on the third day he will rise again from the dead).

But against the odds, I believe Sansa will wear a Targaryen Cloak, and under that protection, she will slay her enemies.

***

I wrote this three years ago. I think it needs some adjusting here and there, but the main idea is there and I hope this time is clearer.

Good night.

#anon ask #jonsa

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Note

If you're available I would love to see a Twilight request! The reader has a one or two year old child. She falls asleep with the child in a nearby playpen napping as well. Edward, Jacob or Emmett(Or even the Cullen family returning home from a hunt) arrive and find the child awake, out of their playpen, face covered with marker marks and in the process of coloring sleeping mom's legs. Thank you so much in advance!💖💖

So this took a while because I really struggled to think of a way to write this at first, but I finally got an idea I was happy with because it combines a cute request with some quality Emmett and Rosalie fluff! I hope you enjoy it chickadee :D

Dream A Little Dream

Words: 2756

Warnings: None, just a simple bit of fluff!

Summary: Emmett needs a reprieve from Rosalie’s temper tantrum, so he goes to check on a DIY project, only to find someone else is living their dream.

“C’mon Rose, talk to me, just tell me-“

“Get out Emmett!”

The door had slammed between them before he could dare say another word, but Emmett was nothing if not persistent. He had spent 66 years married to the woman after all and if he had learned anything from that experience, it was that Rosalie’s temperament was as precarious as an unweighted seesaw - he was confident she’d be cuddling him by tonight.

“Babe.” He rapped his knuckles against the door to the garage but the only reply he received was the loud and sudden blast of a bassline from the CD player. His eyes rolled and he puffed out his cheeks, exhaling in a huff and turning away from the garage to leave his wife to cool off. Edward remained seated at the piano, grinning down at the keys while his fingers diligently moved across the ivory keys.

“No, I have no idea what’s wrong with her.” His voice drifted through from the music room, carrying on the sweet notes of the song he’d composed. He hadn’t played for quite a while but it was a nice, soothing change to listen to the melody he plunked out, Alice’s sugary soprano harmonising beautifully with the key he played in. Emmett scowled in his general direction, moving through the house towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Carlisle’s voice made him stop and turn, his hand on the door handle.

“Out. Rose needs space.” He answered. Carlisle’s brow furrowed, his expression troubled. Emmett couldn’t quite understand it himself. He had never really seen the downsides to vampirism, not when it had gifted him an eternity with his very own angel, not when it came with the added perks of agility and strength and speed he could only have ever dreamed of in his human days. He didn’t have it in to lament for his soul or whatever the rest of them seemed to do. They were vampires, and vampires drank blood – accidents were inevitable. So what if the Swan girl fell prey to Edward’s temptations? They moved on and returned in a few decades when the memory of her had faded, as they had done before and would no doubt do again.

It really wasn’t rocket science! They all knew the laws and neither option was a particularly bad one to him. Either Edward got a good meal, or he had a chance at finding his epic love, his Rosalie, and he might stop brooding for the first time in over a century. Rosalie’s desire to kill the girl was understandable but so was Edward’s urge to protect her, but Emmett didn’t need to be Alice to know there was no future in all the realms of probability that could ever exist where Bella Swan would grow old and grey. Isabella was destined to die one way or another.

“Be safe.” Carlisle’s words made him snort, a smug grin crossing his lips as he opened the door.

“Me be safe? I’m the most dangerous thing out there.” He quipped. Emmett left without looking back. The forest flew past him in what should have been a blur of greens and murky browns, but his eyes saw every detail. Each crack in the bark, the dew glistening on cobwebs, the smallest of insects scuttling up the stems of leaves…it was all a gift to him. He would kill for Rose to see the beauty in it all as he did but she never would. Rose had had all her dreams taken from her by Carlisle long ago, and she was forever going to be bitterly frozen, trapped in her own cycle of self-loathing. He’d burn the world if it put the faintest smile on her face; had taken her to the most incredible places with the most astounding views, bought jewellery so expensive it made even the richest men shudder in disgust at his actions. The one thing that would make his love truly happy was the one thing he could never give her, but he had been thinking of ways to at least soften the heartache.

There was a house (a small ramshackle thing a few miles out from their own sleek residence) that he’d visited once or twice. He’d taken photos and done some minor fixing up of the place, making sure the roof no longer leaked, that the walls were weather-proof and so on. Emmett had laid floors, plastered walls…he’d made the small house viable once more and the only thing he had yet to do was take down a portioning wall between what he envisioned would be the kitchen and lounge space. It would be his anniversary gift to Rosalie, a place she could truly make her own, where she could build her own home. There may not be little feet pattering on the wooden floors, but he could give her two out of three couldn’t he? Renew their vows so they were confirmed husband and wife once more, help build her a home…

He slowed when he neared the site, his nose twitching. Emmett inhaled deeply, an odd mix of smells drifting up his nose. He didn’t remember peonies, and…was that lavender? Emmett approached his little project cautiously, straining all his senses to read his environment, predatorial instincts rising to the surface. A heartbeat, odd rhythm…no, two heartbeats? One slower, one faster, neither the same sort of pace or rhythm as any animal roaming the woods. Humans then? Emmett frowned deeply, struggling to understand why hikers would come all the way out here as he picked his way over the tree roots trying to trip him up, hand dragging over moss covered bark.

A billow of white was the first thing he saw, a sheet in the light breeze. It fluttered, surrounded by bright coloured clothes much too small to be adult sizes, and damp towels. There had been a brief moment of sun this morning but Emmett still had to scoff. Whoever had stolen his project from him was clearly no native to Forks or they’d have known better than to hang their laundry on the line at the slightest bit of sun. Sunshine rarely lasted in Forks. Emmett paused, looking at the fence now enclosing the house he had transformed with his own bare hands. He definitely hadn’t put that up, nor did he recall painting a fence bright green. He hadn’t installed a laundry line either but someone had driven that stake into the ground, the line coming from some sort of contraption nailed into the exterior of the house.

Someone was definitely living in his DIY project, and he was not-

“Shhhhh!”

Emmett was paralysed briefly by the little giggle that followed. It was a soft sound, full of innocence he could never recall having, and it came attached to the sound of scratching and squeaking. His brows pulled low over golden irises, his body moving of its own accord. It had to be a child, but who would leave a child alone in front of their house? Was it even supervised? His curiosity had piqued and though he wanted to be frustrated he just couldn’t be. Maybe Rose wouldn’t ever get to live in this house with him but someone else had clearly made it their home, someone who had achieved the dream Rose had always wanted. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed it but he had to sigh, because only he could attempt to resolve his wife’s bitter disposition and end up adding to it instead.

He didn’t recognise her. From the exterior alone Emmett could tell that in the few weeks it had been since he’d last visited this place, she’d put a lot of effort into making the house a home. The outside had a fresh lick of paint, the windows clean and windowpanes a freshly painted grey, the front door a bright green to match the fence surrounding the house. A wooden picnic table had been added just in front of the kitchen window, and she was sat folded over with her head resting on her arms, eyes closed and skin peppered with goosebumps. Stray wisps of hair blew about her face as his eyes tracked down her figure, noting the gentle, even breathing and the way her eyes twitched about under their lids in her sleep. Beneath the picnic table was the source of the musical laughter.

Emmett crouched, forearms resting on his knees and lips curling into a small smirk as he watched a curly haired little boy press a marker pen to her leg, scribbling a design into her skin. She didn’t even appear close to waking, but the temperature had dropped and clearly the little boy had escaped from the playpen across from the picnic table, the door open and the locking mechanism snapped, paper strewn about the garden by the breeze. Emmett could see the dirt under her fingernails as he got closer, a pair of gardening gloves on her opposite side. She’d clearly done her laundry and a bit of gardening while the sun was out, leaving her son to play in his playpen, but the little boy had seen an opportunity once she’d fallen asleep and took it.

He had the cutest little dimples when he smiled, green eyes shining bright with mischief. Emmett chuckled lowly, zipping about the garden to clean up the papers he’d spotted before approaching the picnic table and clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” he called. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion evident in them for a second before she jumped, straightening in her seat and watching him with wary eyes. Emmett watched her glance to the playpen, her eyes widening. He could hear the way her heartbeat leapt in her chest, the panic stricken expression she wore telling.

“Oh my – no no no –“

“Erm Miss? Don’t panic, he’s under the table.” Emmett smiled, flashing his own dimples in an effort to calm her. He was a naturally unnerving being after all and most humans tended to be either hopelessly attracted to him or deathly afraid – there wasn’t really an in between. She whipped her legs out from under the picnic table, moving so swiftly Emmett was left in awe. She very quickly scooped her son out form under the table and swung him onto her hip, cradling him close and closing her eyes. Her heartbeat began to calm, her breathing growing less rapid now she knew where her boy was.

“Oh god, thank you. I…I guess I fell asleep, the weather was a lot nicer earlier,” She shivered a bit, hand cradling the back of her sons head until he wriggled in her grip. “Not now baby just – really? Oh Damian!” she groaned exasperatedly. Emmett watched amusedly as she licked her thumb and rubbed furiously at his cheek.

“No Mama! No!” the boy cried, squirming in her grip. His face was covered in marker pen, a mixture of blacks and blues and pinks all swirling over his cheeks and down his nose. Emmett couldn’t help but chuckle.

“He’s a real mischief maker huh? He got your leg to.” He informed her. She looked down to her leg with another soft groan, her cheeks turning pink.

“Sounds about right. Have you ever tried to renovate with children?” she questioned, shaking her head. Emmett shook his head, his eyes stuck on the little boy. He shared his mother’s dark hair though not her eyes. Emmett wanted to be upset his plans for Rose’s anniversary surprise had fallen through, but he had been stupid enough to not check the market for this property and it had gone to someone who clearly needed it, though the property was fairly out of the way and an odd choice for a young woman and her child. She seemed intent on making it somewhere nice to live for them both though, and for that he couldn’t fault her.

“Never had any of my own, but your boy sure is a handsome guy. I did renovate this place though, I’m glad it went to someone who needed it.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Her eyes widened, the surprise in them obvious.

“Oh! It was you! The real estate agent said they had no clue who had started the renovation’s, but it didn’t stop them selling it to me…we didn’t know it was taken.” She bit her lip, hoisting her son higher up on her hip. Damian was still wriggling slightly, looking up at Emmett with wide, curious eyes. It was clear what she was worrying about it, but Emmett shook his head, hands held up before her.

“It’s yours, really, me and my wife live nearby, this was a second property we didn’t really need. It wasn’t like I checked it was for sale or anything either, you won it fair and square.” He promised. The relief was palpable in her eyes as her son squirmed again. She set him down, hand running through his curls briefly before he darted back into the house. She watched him go with a small smile.

“Well I’d be happy to give you the tour of the place, if you like? Show you what I’ve done with it Mr….”

“Cullen, Emmett Cullen.” He introduced himself with a nod, knowing his frigid skin would put her off if he dared shake her hand, and he didn’t want to put her off. Emmett’s brain was spinning a hundred miles an hour, and he was starting to form a plan. Rose might not get to live in the house, but she could spend time perhaps with the one thing she wanted more than anything. Her smile brightened.

“Y/N L/N. Maybe if you give us a little time to clean up first you could drop by later? Neighbours seem rare out here, it’ll be nice to know someone.” She admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Emmett tilted his head slightly, glancing up at the house.

“Yeah. Yeah I er, would you mind if I bought my wife to? She had plans for this place, think she’ll enjoy seeing how you designed it for yourselves.” He said. She didn’t hesitate to nod and he tried his best not to feel too pleased with himself.

“Of course!” she agreed, and with a time organised between them Emmett sped off home to barrel his way into the garage. Rose was stuck beneath a car still, her BMW to be precise, though Emmett could never fathom what exactly she found to tune up on that thing – he was sure she spent more time under the car than under him. When she didn’t respond to his tapping on the hood, he pulled on her legs till she wheeled out, her expression sour and a smudge of grease across her cheek.

“Emmett.” She huffed. Emmett grinned down at her, completely unperturbed by her pouty glare.

“Rose. Come on, shower, dress up, do whatever it is you do, we got an appointment to keep.” He told her. Rose’s glare was enhanced by the way her nose wrinkled.

“An appointment? Emmett I swear if you’re trying to get me to go to marriage counselling again-“

“I’m trying to make you smile again.” He groaned exasperatedly. Her expression fell immediately, her golden irises softening from hardened topaz to gooey caramel. Emmett sighed, pulling her to her feet and reeling her in close. She was made for him, her body fit perfectly in his hands, against his. She was his shining light but she had been so dim since Bella had come to Forks.

“Emmett-“

“Rose, babe…I know you. I only have eyes for you. Who cares about some human? This family is immortal, we’ll survive it like we’ve survived everything else that comes our way. For one afternoon, just one, can I please, please have my wife back?” he pressed his forehead to hers, running a hand up and down her back. Rose remained tense for a while, but slowly her arms wound around his torso.

“What did you have in mind monkey man?” she tilted her chin, her lips a fraction of a centimetre from his own. Emmett’s smile returned.

“How’s about I take you to meet a really cute baby?”

By the end of the afternoon, seeing Rose smile at the young boy in her arms while he pretended to admire the newly fitted kitchen in Y/N’s house, Emmett started to understand what made her dream so beautiful, and so painful to wake from.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #cullen family #emmett x rosalie #reader #Emmett is an absolute dumbo but he loves his wife #Rosalie is just stubborn #I bet he's really good at DIY secretly #this man knows plumbing like Mario

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kotoplasm · 4 years

Text

𝐈.: FATE

synopsis: bokuto's philosophical outlook on life has him wondering whether there is a place for him in the universe. you exist to make sure that he knows just how priceless that his existence is to you.

i have not proof read this at allll 😔

masterlist ...... next chapter

society liked to believe that amongst caffeine driven adults and stressed beyond repair broken teenagers, the world still ran on an abstract emotion known as intimacy, to put things simply, love. in the urban streets of tokyo where the lights never seemed to darken, bokuto koutarou was left to wonder whether he was just another puzzle piece waiting to be slotted into that very society.

to begin with, despite his callibrated ability to read emotions to a decent standard, he has failed to keep a single relationship intact. not that he was the problem but rather the confusion that would arise when he began to question why he was even in this relationship to begin with. (okay so maybe to an extent he was the problem). it would seem dangerous, yes, and some would even deem the following as something that was portrayed to be unspoken territory. the girls that he would inevitably find himself with were pretty, yes, and undeniably mesmerising to look at, but that was all there was to it.

he didn't enjoy the said intimacy that some people shared in those said relationships, but he wondered whether he would ever be able to find himself in a situation as such. the term seemed so unearthly and out of sight so he had lost all hope of ever being able to experience something so euphoric and long-lasting. now he just drags his newly found setter to the gym to practise perfecting his cross spikes until his hands were satisfied by the red tinted bruises forming on his calloused hands.

within tokyo, the city was busy and you would only be able to speak to pedestrians for a few ephemeral moments before the current of today's age and time carried you away. today, bokuto had opted for a more quieter route to bid farewell to akaashi, who had told him that he didn't need him to walk him home. bokuto being himself obviously ignored that.

so here they found themselves, exhausted from practise and admiring the scenery of sub-urban tokyo. their clothes were drenched in sweat and fatigue from their intensive practice, to which akaashi could only really scowl at. the pungent smell of body odour wasn't new to him of course, but that didn't equate to him enjoying its scent.

the area was a hotspot for dogwalkers and evening strolls, he had noted as he watched a couple walk by them with their children scuttling past their limbs. it took him a few moments to process that children probably saw himself and fukurodani's spiker as big friendly giants.

"ne akaashi," bokuto called out to him, hands folded behind his head. "do you think you'll ever get married?"

"that's a very random question bokuto-san," he replies, eyes never leaving the road ahead of them. he spots a glass garden in the distance but pays no attention to it. "but i hope so. i don't like the idea of spending my adult years alone."

"yeah, i guess you're right," he replies back. and then he stays quiet, looking ahead.

odd. akaashi says to himself but doesn't prod further. he wishes to go home and shower, hopefully being able to finish some of his homework before the due date arrives.

"i never knew there was a florist in this area," the same golden-eyed boy calls out, pointing to the very building on his mind.

"yeah, it's a family owned one. the owner is very close friends with my family," he notes.

"are they nice people?"

"i guess. i've only ever spoken to their daughter but they don't tend to speak a lot."

"hmm."

before he knew it, bokuto was jogging towards the very store, peering into the garden to stare at the bouquets and nosegays of variously coloured flowers, water dripping from their freshly watered pots.

"we should go in akaashi! maybe you might see something you like!" says bokuto with an expression of joy and excitement on his face.

reluctantly following after him, akaashi embraces the fresh scent of grass cuttings and fertiliser. it was the same smell as always: where some people might finding it to be unbearable, he found it homey.

one of the two go around the store to explore the rest of the interior whereas the other went to greet the owner, a newspaper on her lap as her spectacled eyes skim through the fine print of todays paper. to the right, a paraffin lamp was lit; the smell was irritating but he tried his best to ignore it.

"ahh akaashi!" the older woman pats his shoulder a little harshly, a warm grin on her lips. "haven't seen you about for a long time. how're your parents? are they feeling alright?"

he answers the questions modestly, curtly nodding when appropriate and returning a friendly smile.

"[ l/n ]-san, isn't [ y/n ]-san usually here, helping you?" he questions, scanning the area for any clues as to where you might have wondered off to.

"i'm afraid not akaashi. she started school a few days ago and she's been complaining about the sudden surge in work load," shaking her head, she continues. "says that it's been tough to manage the latter so i told her to forget about the shift she was supposed to cover this evening."

"she's a second year now, isn't she?"

"yes. but if you're worried about her forgetting you now that you don't attend the same high school, don't fret too much."

"no, umm, it wasn't that. i just wanted to remind myself, that's all. hard to believe that she's a year older than me."

"i still can't comprehend how," she replies, letting out a chesty laugh that stimulated a small smile on his non-chalant face.

concurrently, bokuto found himself strolling through each aisle, his eyes erratically jumping from one flower species to the next. akaashi side glances at him occasionally to keep an eye on him but it didn't look like he was doing anything extraordinary.

up until he disappeared. and in quite literally an instant.

from what the silver tipped boy could remember, he had remembered tripping over something and collapsing onto the soil stained gravel, bracing himself with his elbows.

"are you alright?" she calls out from behind the checkout getting ready to stand up.

the boy waves a thumbs up in reply. despite wanting to pry further, he decides against it, dusting off the soil particulates and heading back towards the till. it couldn't have been....

the pair of them bid a farewell and continue their walk up until they got to akaashi's house, to which the very boy could see his upperclassman fidget with his hands.

"akaashi, you didn't happen to see anyone with us in that store did you?"

"why, did you see someone?"

he pauses. did he see anyone? whatever he tripped over felt too warm to have been a random object and had disappeared the moment that he'd tripped over it.

"actually, i don't know. maybe i'm just imagining things."

he gives him a funny look before sighing. "yeah, maybe you were imagining it."

bokuto sighs. "maybe i was."

it's the second day of the week; fukurodani's and nekoma's weekly practice looming over bokuto koutarou and akaashi keiji. it was a periodic occurrence, only happening on the tuesday of every fortnight and the friday of every other week.

if he was being honest, bokuto was excited, ready to show off their new setter, who was still wary to the idea of co-ordinating the offenses of a powerhouse school. afterall, he was still only a first year trying out the position for a few games before sitting out to observe. what he felt was new but refreshing and thrilling, so he tried not to think of the nerves trying to seep beneath his skin.

the satisfaction bokuto felt was all driven by an act of competitiveness with the middle blocker of the opposing team, kuroo tetsurou, someone who, despite cherishing as a good friend, didn't mind the level of rivaled tension that was thick in the air.

"hey, sorry i'm late guys!" came the voice of the boy in question, stepping into the gym in his blue coloured kit. the moment his eyes settled on bokuto, his lips curled into a coy smirk. "hope you're ready to lose, ya horned owl bastard."

"i don't intend on it," bokuto retorts, blowing a silent raspberry with his arms folding out of habit.

"kuroo! i thought you said that you've found someone!"

"yeah, um... give her a minute. i might have ran and left her behind," he responds. "she's coming though. i can promise that."

despite that comment, practice commenced regardless with the first ten minutes being used for warm-ups. as usual, bokuto rushed into spiking drills, the spherical object hitting the ground with an absurd amount of strength, reflected by the vibrations of the hardwood.

"that could've gone through a little sharper," he told himself as he prepares to retrieve the free ball.

it felt almost surreal when he'd picked it up.

you appeared through the open gym doors a little tired but okay nevertheless, attempting to fix your school uniform. your hands instinctively went to straighten your skirt which had crumpled up a little and tights which had sagged slightly near your knees.

he couldn't help but stare at you because he was wondering how it was possible for someone to look so breathtaking when they indeed had their own breath taken from them trying to catch up with an athlete, the very person now taking time out of his drills to come and greet her, or rather that's what bokuto was thinking.

"you ought to ..... run a little slower kuroo," you panted back. "i'm not used...... to running such long .......distances."

"then maybe we should make it mandatory for new recruitments to join us during our runs," he quips back with a smirk. it lasted for a few moments before you had swatted his arm rather harshly, scowling.

"remember that you forced me to come here, against my own will."

"you could've gone back and i wouldn't have noticed."

"no, you would."

so the pair of you walked away towards your coach and current third year manager who looked ecstatic to see you.

and yet, bokuto couldn't bring himself to remove his peering gaze away from you.

so much, that he didn't even realise konoha calling him out of his daydream.

"oi, the game is about to start! get up!" as they're slipping on their coloured bibs, akaashi takes a glance at the golden eyed boy, wearing a questionable expression.

"are you feeling okay? you don't need to sit this game out do you?"

he pries his eyes from your figure to face akaashi with a bright smile. he couldn't tell if it was feigned or genuine.

"yeah! i'm just excited to finally show off our new setter!"

"but i'm not playing for the whole game..."

"details akaashi! do we really need to get bogged down by them?"

the whistle sang its last song. all worries from the first year faded away. maybe he was worried about nothing afterall.

adolescence taglist:

@sirachano0dles (send an ask to be added)

#myworks #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #bokuto scenario #bokuto headcanon #bokuto x you #bokuto hq #bokuto x reader

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starstruckcomet · 3 years

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Harry Potter and the Look Into the Future

Summary: Harry Potter and Y/N unexpectedly learn more about their futures than they bargained for when Umbridge gets her sights set on getting the duo in trouble. Reader is a Hufflepuff girl. Just a quick, cute story (Bonus: includes Umbridge get slammed on by McGonagall). Not set in any specific canonical timeline and canon has been altered quite a bit (Spoiler: Cedric does not die, Cedric is not Hufflepuff Seeker, etc)

"Right now, I don't know if I wanna kiss you or kill you" Y/N hugged the wall behind her, feeling the cold stone against her back through her robes.

"Was that a confession?" Harry asked, looking at Y/N instead of down the next corridor, where he had been training his eyes before, and where Y/N was looking now.

"You wish" A faint smile graced Y/N's features, eyes still trained on the empty corridor lined with torches ahead of them.

Harry smiled as well, feeling his heart jump at her accusation. "Why would you kill me? I'm the one who warned you"

"Because if I hadn't known about this, I wouldn't be here standing with you. I'd still be in Charms learning how to use Raparifors... and I might've even been able to help Madame Pomfrey with some patients, she's been looking tired lately, what with Quidditch injuries and Hagrid showing us the Skrewts"

"Hey!"

"No, I'm not saying it's wrong of Hagrid to teach us about them. I think the Skrewts are quite interesting! And you know I love the way Hagrid teaches. But you can't deny they're causing injuries, right? The infirmaries are full every day, Madame Pomfrey looked a little overworked when I went to go check if my hand had healed fully. I feel bad, I think she deserves a break"

Harry scoffed. "Hufflepuffs."

"You say that like it's a bad thing" said Y/N, sounding offended, but smiling. She looked back to face Harry now.

"Not at all. I feel pretty bad for her too" Harry returned her smile. "But would you really rather be ignorant to this and let it just happen to you? Before you can do anything about it?"

"...no." Y/N admitted, turning back to look around the corner.

"So you won't kill me then?"

"Not today, Potter" A sly smile formed on her face.

"Brilliant. So a kiss then?" Harry raised his brows, half-expectantly

"What?" Y/N looked to face him again, taken aback.

"You said you didn't know whether to kiss me or kill me, didn't you? And you said you're not going to kill me..." Harry explained.

"Not yet, at least" interjected Y/N, bemused.

"So the other option was to kiss me." Harry raised his brow, as though challenging Y/N.

Y/N felt her face heat up despite herself. "Can we focus?" was the only thing she said before turning back to the corridor. She heard Harry chuckle lightly, obviously amused, which did not help with her rapidly heating cheeks.

"I AM focusing" Harry said defiantly.

"Right" murmured Y/N. Just then, she spotted Umbridge scuttling down the hallway. Y/N swung back, using the wall to hide herself.

"Is she ther-" Harry began, but was unable to finish his sentence because Y/N had slapped her hand against his mouth. She did not even spare him a look before slowly leaning to look down the corridor again. Harry could hear Umbridge's shrill, artificially sweet voice. She was talking to Professor McGonagall.

"A word, Minerva?" her voice said, and Harry and Y/N could just imagine the annoying smile that they (and many of the other students-and teachers) wanted to slap off her face.

"I do not tolerate disruptions of my class. Speak with me later, Dolores, if you'll please" McGonagall said coldly, the way she always talked to Umbridge.

Y/N and Harry had to muffle their laughter.

"I have to speak to you about a student." Umbridge's voice wavered for a fraction of a second. She was obviously intimidated, but as always, did not want to admit it, wanting to keep up her unbothered façade.

McGonagall audibly sighed, gave some instructions to her 4th year class (they were all listening intently as well), then walked out of her classroom alongside Umbridge, out into the corridor.

"And which student do you wish to speak about?" Y/N could hear McGonagall more clearly now, as the Professor shut the classroom door behind herself.

"About Miss Y/N Y/L/N"

"Now I'm not sure if you were aware, Dolores, but I am Head of Gryffindor house. And I believe it should be quite obvious enough from Miss Y/L/N's canary yellow robes, that she has been sorted into Hufflepuff. Therefore, you should be speaking with Professor Sprout about any issues you have with her. Professor Sprout's greenhouse is just outside, in the lawns, if you were not up to date with the Hogwarts layout" McGonagall heaved, not showing any sense of fear of the High Inquisitor's wrath.

Both Harry and Y/N snuck a look into the corridor, and they could see Umbridge's face go purple, the way it always did when she was quite angry with something. When she talked again however, her voice was still utterly dripping with fake joy.

"I know very well about all those things, thank you Minerva. However I believe it is in your best interest to listen to what I have to say, as it involves a student that has been sorted into Gryffindor house as well"

Harry and Y/N shared a look. There was a silence as McGonagall furrowed her brows inquisitively.

"Harry Potter IS in Gryffindor house, yes?" Umbridge asked, pretending as though she were clueless.

"Obviously" McGonagall sighed. "And what has he done?"

"According to Educational Decree Thirty-Five" and there was ruffle of parchment as Umbridge took out the list of Educational Decrees she always kept with her, so as to remind people (or shove down people's throats, rather) of the new school rules set by the Ministry. "All male students should stay separate from female students." Umbridge looked up and Y/N thought that McGonagall was going to roll her eyes through the back of her head. "You've seen this Decree, I assume?"

"How could I have not?" McGonagall sighed, and she gestured towards the corridor, where at least 5 posters of the Decree were plastered, despite the corridor being one of the smallest in the castle.

"Then you see how Mr. Potter and Miss Y/L/N have violated school rules?"

"No, I do not. My classroom has male and female students, and they are sitting and working together." McGonagall moved her arm to the closed door of her classroom. "Because if you have truly read the Decree, it continues on to say that interactions which do not involve touching or other intimate acts are, in fact, permitted. And that's to not even mention that you have shown me no proof of these two students being in close proximity together in an inappropriate way. So, unless you have got proof of the two students doing anything intimate with one another-which if you do, I stoutly question your role as a teacher in this school-I cannot help you" McGonagall flourished.

Y/N and Harry heard Umbridge's breathing hasten. She was now panting, as though a dog.

"I have proof, however. As for my role in this school, I am simply upholding the rules that the Ministry has set"

"You have proof?" McGonagall questioned, backing away from the door of her classroom, which she was about to open. "Right then. What is it?"

There was another ruffle of parchment as Umbridge took something out of her pocket again.

"Love letters." stated Umbridge proudly as she handed the papers to McGonagall.

McGonagall frowned as she scanned them. "You have letters that the students sent privately to one another? I'll have you know that is quite illegal, even outside of the world of magic. And surely a Ministry witch such as yourself would be aware of this fact?"

Y/N and Harry looked at one another. This was what Harry had warned Y/N about. Y/N felt her face heat up, thinking of her teachers reading the mail she and Harry had exchanged. She wondered how Umbridge had managed to get her hands on them.

"All in the name of the Ministry" Umbridge sighed happily. "And Hogwarts, of course" she added, as though an afterthought.

"And you call these love letters, do you? Read them, Dolores. Do you see romance when you look at these?"

"I do, indeed. Read between the lines, Minerva. They are evidently..." She took a sharp intake of breath, racking her brain, "What do the kids call it...flirting! Yes. Flirting, they are"

"Dolores, theft of student mail is a violation of privacy and these accusations of...flirting" McGonagall said, dumfounded by Umbridge. "are unbased. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach. I'd advise you to get back to yours as well" and McGonagall turned to try to enter her class again.

"I have more proof, however!" Umbridge said, sounding desperate now.

McGonagall begrudgingly turned back to face Umbridge, watching as she took a stack of something out of her pockets. Y/N wondered just how big Umbridge's pockets were and made a mental note to remember to ask her where she bought her clothes. Umbridge handed McGonagall the stack of what looked to be pictures. As McGonagall took them in her hands, she looked at them, bewildered.

"What are these?" she demanded.

"Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Potter being quite intimate with one another. Holding hands, hugging, even...sharing a kiss" Umbridge explained as McGonagall turned to the last photo in the stack.

Harry and Y/N's cheeks heated up as they looked at one another, perplexed. A kiss? But they had never shared a kiss. Or even a hug since the 35th Decree had been put into place. How could Umbridge have gotten those pictures, when the scenes depicted in them hadn't even happened in the first place?

Professor McGonagall seemed to have the same question, but without the context of knowing that they were obviously fake and had never happened . "How did you get these?" she asked, sounding enraged.

"The High Inquisitor-that is to say, I- has eyes all over the school. Always watching, of course. How else am I supposed to make sure that students are following rules?"

McGonagall was so livid, she was unable to even form a sentence. "Violation of privacy! These are teenage children! Just because you've never felt the affection of a man!"

Harry and Y/N had to muffle laughter once again.

Umbridge did not take that last comment well, her smile disappearing off her face. "I'll have you know-"

But Umbridge was cut off by a McGonagall that was getting angrier by the second. In her anger, she had dropped the pictures, which were now scattered about the corridor floor.

Y/N dared to sneak a glance at one, and she felt her cheeks immediately turn red. In the picture that had drifted closest to the duo hiding behind the corner, Harry was depicted hovering himself over Y/N, leaning down to kiss her. Both their cheeks were flamingo pink and Harry's brows were furrowed. For some reason, they seemed to be lying in the grass.

McGonagall continued shouting. "How DARE you sneak into the student's private lives, taking scandalous pictures of moments that are meant to be for their eyes only! Beyond disrespectful!"

Some of McGonagall's 4th years had gathered to watch the scene out of the small rectangular window in the door. They shoved one another, trying to get a better look.

Umbridge had begun gathering the pictures that were strewn about the floor. Harry and Y/N caught sight of a few more of them. Many depicted them sharing hugs, or comfortably lying together on the couch in front of the fire in the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor common rooms. Although, something that surprised Y/N and Harry more than the fact that Umbridge had these pictures in her possession, or that she was sharing private moments of theirs with McGonagall, was the fact that none of the pictures seemed to be memories...they were all things that hadn't happened. Ever.

"We will have to talk to Dumbledore straight away!' McGonagall was still shouting, shocking Y/N and Harry. They knew she would be angry, but they had never heard Professor McGonagall shout before.

McGonagall began to march down the opposite end of the corridor, Umbridge following suit. Harry and Y/N expected Umbridge to have been angry or scared, but instead she looked pleased with herself.

"We'd better get back to class. I expect they're going to call us into Dumbledore's office for questioning" Y/N said, trying to fight off the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Ah, right" Harry quickly averted his eyes from Y/N, as though he had been staring at her the entire time.

So they made their way back to Charms, where Professor Flitwick didn't even bother to ask them why they'd taken so long in getting books from their common rooms (the excuse the two had given to be able to leave Charms in the middle of the lesson)

Just as Harry and Y/N took their seats again, with inquiring looks from their classmates, a 7th year that they had seen a few times in the corridors came marching in. "Harry Potter and Y/N Y/L/N have been called into Dumbledore's office" he said.

"Very well" Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky voice. He turned to look at Harry and Y/N. "You may go. Remember to practice Raparifors as homework!"

The duo nodded, then followed the 7th year to the gargoyle statue on the 2nd floor.

"Treacle Tart" the 7th year said, and the gargoyle began to spin upwards, unveiling a staircase as it did. "Good luck, McGonagall looks quite mad." The 7th year turned to look at Harry and Y/N.

Harry and Y/N only nodded at the boy as he stalked away, grinning to himself. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen the photographs as well.

They made their way up the stairs, pausing to knock on the wooden door that separated the staircase from Dumbledore's office. They heard Dumbledore's voice say "Get that for me, would you, Dolores?" and a second later, the door was opened by Umbridge, who smiled sweetly, flashing her yellowing teeth at them.

They scuttled in, the both of them, and Umbridge closed the door behind them, as though trapping prey. "And as I was saying, as High Inquisitor, it is my job to uphold the rules, which these students have evidently broken" Umbridge stated this as though she'd already been talking before Harry and Y/N came in, not taking into account the fact that if the duo of students hadn't been snooping, they would've had no idea what she was on about.

"I don't think it is anybody's job to be nosing around in the private love lives of students." McGonagall sniffed.

Dumbledore looked calm as he switched his glance between the two quarrelling teachers.

"Come. Sit" he gestured at the two seats in front of his desk. He tapped a Newton's Cradle set on the desk in front of him, and the pendulums began to swing, bumping into one another. It was so mesmerizing to look at that Y/N thought it had to be enchanted with magic; she was so encapsulated with it that she had almost forgotten why they were there.

"Y/N, Harry, you two must be confused as to why you're here" Dumbledore folded his hands together and rested them on his desk as he took a seat in front of them.

"I'll explain, although you should already be aware" Umbridge butted in. "I have caught you two violating school rules"

"What?" Y/N let out a breath.

"Which one?" Harry asked, lying through his teeth.

"I think you know very well which one" Umbridge grinned, holding up the pictures for the students to see. Y/N felt the blush creep up on her again, and when she looked at Harry, his normally pale cheeks were also tinged.

"Absolutely outrageous!" McGonagall huffed again, quickly averting her eyes away from the photographs. "Dumbledore, you must see what's wrong with this?" she rounded on the Headmaster.

"I do, in fact see the problem" Dumbledore hummed sedately.

McGonagall seemed to sigh with relief at this.

"And what issue may that be? It is perfectly within my right to inspect students and other residents of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is in my job description, you see-"

"That is not the issue I am conferring to, Dolores" Dumbledore interrupted, voice stable. Y/N saw from the corner of her eye an enraged and confused McGonagall. Y/N felt her love for Professor McGonagall grow. She knew that McGonagall was one of the teachers that was always by her side, but she felt especially teary at how angry the Transfigurations Professor was getting on her behalf today.

"Surely, Professor you-" McGonagall began but Dumbledore interrupted again.

"The issue here, is that this proof is invalid" stated Dumbledore.

"As you can see, Professor, these pictures prove my point perfectl-"

"I'm afraid these pictures are false, Dolores" Dumbledore said tonelessly.

Umbridge scowled. "Whatever do you mean, Dumbledore?" she asked.

As Dumbledore took out his wand, an expression of realization dawned on McGonagall's face. Y/N, still confused, focused her eyes on Dumbledore in front of her.

"Pictures, please Dolores" and Umbridge handed him the images. "Ostende Vera" He said, flicking his wand as he did a spell that neither Y/N, nor Harry had ever heard of.

Immediately, the pictures morphed to show print on the bottom right-hand corner. Y/N squinted to see the words closer and saw that one of the pictures of them cuddling in front of the fire had "December 23rd, 1997: 9:00PM, Gryffindor Common Room, In front of the fire. Pictured: Harry James Potter, Y/N Y/L/N. " written on it. Y/N frowned with confusion.

"As you can see, Dolores, these are Respice In Futurum. Otherwise known as "Future Looks" Dumbledore stated.

Umbridge still looked confused, while McGonagall's expression had changed into a smile.

"The meaning of this?" Umbridge questioned, raising a brow. Y/N could see that she was piecing together the meaning but did not want to admit it.

"Meaning these images have not happened." McGonagall explained, folding her arms.

"Yet." added Dumbledore and Y/N could swear he winked at Harry and Y/N. They shared a look, as if confirming from one another that he really had. They blushed looking at one another, realizing that they were not just imagining things.

"Excuse me?" Umbridge was turning purple again, still unable to admit it.

"It means" pressured McGonagall, smugly, and the professor reminded Y/N of Hermione for a second. "This scene will not take place until 9PM on December 23rd, 2 years from now. It has not happened. I would've assumed that a Ministry official such as yourself would know about such a thing?"

"Well, what matters is the fact that it happened...or is going to happen at all!" Umbridge insisted, defiant still, ignoring the last part of McGonagall's statement. "Whether it is in the future or not!"

"We cannot punish students for breaking rules they haven't broken yet" Dumbledore said with a gentle smile.

"Well why not!?" Umbridge was livid now, any semblance of fake joy drained out of her voice. "We have proof right here that they are about to violate a rule set by the Ministry of Magic!"

"In two years." said McGonagall coldly. "Who knows whether the rule would still exist in two years time! That is a judgment we can only pass in December of 1997"

"Well, as long as I am here, the rule will exist!" Umbridge shouted. Her fake smile was nowhere to be seen.

"Exactly. As long as you're here" McGonagall said "Can you prove that you are still going to be a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in two years time?"

"Well, why wouldn't I be!?" argued Umbridge.

"Who knows? Professor Trelawney might've been able to tell you but unfortunately for you, Sybill does not really wish to see you. Anyhow, there is no definitive proof that these students are breaking any school rules at the time of this photograph. So speaking on terms of the punishment of these children, it is non-viable." McGonagall smiled lightly as she watched Umbridge's face contort with anger.

Umbridge huffed. "Alright then" she brushed out her pink dress as though arguing had made it dirty. "But if I catch either of you doing anything-" she turned to face Harry and Y/N-who had just been sitting quietly as they watched the whole thing enfold-pointing an accusatory finger at them.

"I think it would benefit you best, Dolores, if you focused on the present, rather than on what is going to happen, or what could potentially happen" Dumbledore said wisely, smiling at the livid teacher.

Umbridge huffed again. "Of course" her fake smile returned, but it was tight lipped now. "Good day, then" she bid, then walked out the door. Y/N grinned, just imagining the breakdown she would have in the privacy of her office.

McGonagall also bid her goodbyes. "I have a class to get back to, then. Good afternoon." and she left as well, leaving the students alone with Dumbledore.

They looked to him to see if they had been dismissed. He only smiled at them, as though he were expecting something.

"Professor..." Harry began, and Dumbledore shifted his gaze to the pendulums on his desk, which were still swaying, confirming Y/N's suspicions that they were enchanted. "Was that...really a look into the future?"

"Definitively, yes" Dumbledore said simply.

"So...it is 100% going to happen?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

"Quite right, you are, Miss Y/L/N. Future Looks only show future events that will happen, without a shadow of a doubt."

Y/N and Harry looked down, spotting the image of them sharing a kiss which had the words "November 28th, 1995, 1:49 PM. Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor. Pictured: Harry James Potter, Y/N Y/L/N." imprinted on the bottom. They both blushed deep red and Y/N's heart began to pound painfully in her chest.

"November 28th, 1995? But that's...this year! It's November 16th!" she thought to herself. "And during a Quidditch match? Is that why they were lying in the grass? Why in the middle of a match!?"

As though he could read her mind, Dumbledore spoke up. "As I said to Dolores, do not fret on the future." he smiled gently. "What is meant to be, is meant to be."

The students did not speak, looking at the floor. Fawkes had curled up in Y/N's lap and she decided to focus on the Phoenix instead of the conversation they were having with Dumbledore, however, she was unsuccessful.

"Ah, young love" Dumbledore suddenly heaved, smiling. "Would it be quite horrible of me to say that I find it fun to watch enfold? As Headmaster, I see it blossom quite often" he said. "The purest form of love, it is."

Then he gathered the photos and set them aside. "Quite an invasion of privacy, though, I do agree with Minerva. I apologize on Dolores's behalf for this."

The bell rang for lunch, and Dumbledore abruptly got up. Y/N and Harry got up with him.

"Off for the Great Hall, then." he said and the two students headed to the door. "I heard from Dobby that the house elves have made me my favourite Sherbet Lemons"

They nodded, polite smiles growing on their faces. They turned back towards the door, but before they could leave, Dumbledore called behind them.

"Good luck" he winked.

Harry and Y/N flushed red, Stumbling out of the office. They hurried down to the Great Hall, not even once looking at one another. It was a silent trudge downstairs.

And as Y/N took her seat at the Hufflepuff table with Cedric Diggory and Hannah Abbot, and Harry his seat at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, they both wondered how on Earth were they going to share their first kiss in 12 days time.

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innittowinit · 4 years

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Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children (chapter 6)

Fic summary:

Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers

That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?

Chapter summary:

The dream team attacks Wilbur's asleep Phil's busy Tommy-proofing the park

Chapter Word count: 2363

AO3

Fuck…

It was so hot, so humid, that Techno could feel himself swaying where he was standing; his signature red jacket had been tossed aside in a feeble attempt to cool down for just a minute. With Wilbur having fallen asleep on top of the ticket booth roof and Phil trying to clean out some of the glass and brambles from one of the old gift shops before they let Tommy play in it -the white house needed to be safe after all- Techno was left to watch over Tommy on his own. Having taken on board everything Phil said to them, he managed to keep an eye on his brother the entire time.

He even climbed up a bit with him, making sure not to go too high and set a bad example, he was still a kid though and it was fun to mess around. He’d keep Tommy safe and have fun doing it, he wouldn’t let Tommy get board enough to warrant him wanting to venture higher.

“What are the kids in your class like then? They nice to you Toms?” Techno already knew the answer, Tommy could be a bit obnoxious at times but as far as kids would see it, he was miles more ‘normal’ than Techno and Wilbur had been. They probably loved him, that was a nice thought. He loved him too.

As they sat, feet dangling off a track, that wasn’t too high, as Techno had checked many many times, and was very sturdy, Tommy gave an excited nod. That was good news. “Love ‘em, we’re all super good friends! Tubbos my best friend though, he’s way way better than the others” he nodded, as if it was a well known fact that Tubbo was objectively the best, which made Techno chuckle.

Only now was he realising that he never really spoke to Tommy like this anymore, it was nice. Wilbur was always with him, he needed Wilbur nearby to be able to be calm enough to talk, so it was rare to find a conversation without the brunette at all. At times, he found himself wishing he could be more confident with his verbal abilities, it would be amazing to be like a character from a movie, to be able to just go out and maybe order himself a coffee, talk to a stranger as he waited for the bus. So often he found himself fantasizing about the most mundane things for most people, but really he did crave them a lot. He was working incredibly hard in his speech therapy, there had been so many times where he felt like just giving up, like maybe he could get away with not talking for the rest of his life, but then he’d hear how assertively Wilbur could tell their doctor that he was getting overwhelmed and needed a break and.. It just reminded him of how badly he needed to crack this.

He couldn’t stay silent forever, not when he wanted to talk so bad. Even now, as he sat with his little brother, he was reminded of how badly he needed to get his issues sorted out. It was grim to think about but he knew that if he didn’t have full confirmation Wilbur was close, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with Tommy.

“Don’t tell the others I’m getting soft but I really love you, you know that right Toms?”

Tommy giggled and then he nodded. Ah, confident as ever. Techno was incredibly grateful that Tommy hadn’t turned out like him or Wilbur. It was such a relief, at first he had been so sure that the social issues were hereditary, why else would Wilbur struggle too? Recently though, he had figured out that it likely was a mix between his adhd, which was genetics, and the lack of attention he and Wil had gotten while they were little. With Two parents who were constantly out working, babysitters were usually the only people they saw in the day, their parents leaving before they had woken up and arriving back home after they had been put back to bed, it was a bad cycle of them only getting to see them a few minutes a day at most.

He wasn’t a psychologist, if he was he probably could have started talking by now, but he guessed Wilbur had likely clutched onto one of the only consistent things, that being him, and he had developed a fear of talking. Out of fear of getting close to temporary people? Out of spite? He didn’t know.

What he did know though, was that perhaps through the constant praise and adoration he and his brothers had always given Tommy, they’d somehow prevented him from turning out like them.

Tommy could be happy, he didn’t need to fear random things.

Techno was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of someone throwing fun-snaps along the entrance to L’manburg. Fucking Dream Team, why couldn’t they leave them alone? And what was best was that the only people available to confront them were Tommy or Techno, a seven year old or a mute.

Nudging Tommy, he glanced towards the entrance knowingly, Wilbur was a lot better at reading him but Tommy and Phil were pretty decent too. After a couple knowing glances at each other, seemingly an entire silent conversation taking place, the two brothers started to climb down the coaster and back to safety. Techno would have been happy enough to just hide and wait for Wilbur to wake up or maybe Phil to come out, he could definitely take any one of them in a fight but he didn’t want to.

What he did want was for Wilbur to wake up and come do the talking because although he loved Tommy, he didn’t want to be represented by him.

He just couldn’t get that though; the second Tommy’s feet touched the floor he dashed into the centre of the entrance way, causing Techno to dash out of him, Dream visible despite the fact that he was hiding behind a bush. Huh. The idiot must have ran out of Fun snaps since he wasn’t throwing any more.

“This is war! It’s war! Your tyranny over L’manburg cannot last forever, sleepy boys!”

Dream stood up quickly, his green hoodie tied around his shoulders as he stood in a white tshirt and grey basketball shorts. As the blonde raised his crossbow, pointed directly at Tommy, Techno couldn’t help but wonder just how he was planning to aim through the small eye holes in that mask.

“You’re dead! You hear me! We’ll win this war.”

And with that he fired two shots, the foam bullets bouncing off of himself and Tommy pathetically as they watched in confusion. What was his problem? Seemingly, Tommy had been shot on the cheek, the boy was rubbing it with small tears in his eyes. Being hit with something, even if it was a toy bullet, must still be a shock when it hits you directly in the face.

Techno wanted to comfort him, but he couldn’t, not when Dream was standing mere feet away. Instead he opted to run his thumb over Tommy’s cheek then taking his hand as a sign he understood that he wasn’t happy - he didn’t know why or how but holding his brother’s hand’s hand started to be the thing guaranteed to let them know he cared when he couldn’t talk. It was dumb but at least he had a way to communicate it now.

“NOW!”

Right as he was distracted, he heard Dream yell out, causing him to snap back to reality, standing in front of Tommy protectively, only to realise Sapnap and George were scuttling in from a hole in the wall. Techno wanted to yell out, he wanted Phil to come, he felt scared and overwhelmed, logically he could take any of these boys physically but he was scared. This was new to him, they were new people, and he had someone to protect!

It wouldn’t be so bad if Wilbur was awake.

Wilbur could yell and get Phil to come and Phil would do something.

The two boys were charging towards them now, Dream still had that stupid toy crossbow pointed at them too. God why were they so awful?!

“Give it up Techno!” Sapnap yelled, waving a toy sword, it looked like it was made of wood. He wasn’t holding it right, Techno had noted to himself, if he were to try and hit someone with that he wouldn’t get much force. The other boy, George -He only remembered his name because that was the one Wilbur hurt- was carrying a wooden axe, it didn’t look sharp and the handle was painted in a way that made it clear it was also from a toy set, probably the same set that the sword was from.

That made it all the more clear that they were bad kids. They wanted to hurt them.

He repositioned himself in front of Tommy as the boys drew closer.

Sapnap had tried to hit him first, he was able to block that with his arm, then came George with his axe. The boy jumped up and swung as he came down, even though it was blunt, he had still been hit hard with it and it fucking ached.

Techno didn’t want to get violent but he would protect Tommy no matter what, he knew Phil said no more fights but as he saw Sapnap swing the sword, the wooden blade brushing past Tommy forcefully and leaving a splinter in his arm, he couldn’t hold back his anger. He gently turned Tommy around, nodding towards the ticket booth, before turning back to the two boys in front of him, shaking his head as if to tell them not to even think about going near him.

Techno had faith in Tommy, he knew he’d be able to get Wilbur, that’s why he had to be quick here. In all honesty, he didn’t care about George, he hadn’t hurt Tommy, but Sapnap had and so he felt no shame as he pushed him hard, letting him bounce on the sandy dirt of the warm summer’s day. He didn’t want to start an actual fight, Phil would kill him if he actually punched someone but pushing wasn’t that bad.

“Okayyy Okay kids”

ThankGod,ThankGod,ThankGod

He heard Phil’s voice as he jogged over to Techno, Sapnap and George; by now Dream was standing in the open, by the entrance to L’manburg, as if waiting for his brother’s to finish up their game since his part was over. Techno hated that they seemed to think of this as a joke. They didn’t need L’manburg, they just didn’t like that they couldn’t have it. In his opinion, they were just spoiled rotten, why was their discomfort a source of their amusement?

No matter how he thought of it, Techno couldn’t understand their thought process. Even though he had already pushed Sapnap over, Techno was still boiling over with anger, strong tension dripping from any motion he made.

“Boys get up” Phil sighed as he helped Sapnap off the ground, as well as George who had got down to make sure he was okay. “Techno we don’t push people..Okay I’m sorry about him, you head back home now”

The blonde ushered the boys out of the park as fast as he could, trying to be polite all the way, even though they had been nothing but rude to them.

…

Everything was silent for a minute.

“Techno-Blade Reid, How many times do I have to tell you violence isn’t okay?”

Okay, he used his full name, fuck shit. Phil rarely got this mad but it was obvious Techno had messed up. He hated making Phil mad, he never wanted to yell back, it always just made him disappointed in himself. Everybody knew that Phil was a nice guy and to be the one that forces him to lose composure? It felt horrible.

“Phil I-”

“No no! Listen for a minute okay? How hard actually is it to just talk? Why couldn’t you just call out to me? You know I would have got rid of them for you! Tommy said you had a sword fight, Techno, a sword fight! Did you even realise that Tommy got a splinter? What if that gets infected?”

Techno felt simultaneously that his heart had been stepped on and that he wanted to puke. It hurt, so, so bad, to hear his brother say these things. With the once comforting summer heat choking him up and threatening tears, Techno crossed his arms against his chest, walking directly to Wilbur.

Wilbur never would have said something like that, not even out of anger.

“Phil, I wanted to… You think I didn't realise Tommy got hurt? Why else would I have shoved him?! They attacked us!” He had to stop for a moment, getting a bit choked up, he had been so relieved to hear Phil’s voice, he really hadn’t expected this.

“No, fuck, Tech’ I didn’t mean that… I don't know why I said it. I promise I didn’t mean it”

Phil’s face had contorted slightly, he looked pained and guilty. Techno was well aware that he had just been frustrated and went for the easiest jab possible, he just hadn’t been expecting it.

No matter how much he told himself that Phil didn’t actually think any of that, no matter how much he told himself that his brother still loved him despite his speech issues, he still couldn’t help but find himself being hurt.

He knew what Phil said hadn’t been on purpose but it still stung.

“Take Tommy home and get his splinter out, me and Wil are gonna stay back here for a bit” Voice weak and mellow, he pushed the words out as if it was a physical struggle to talk right now.

He heard Phil sigh, the one he did when something was really hard. “Okay, I love you Techno, and you Wilbur.”

Techno nodded “I love you too.. I just need to be alone for a minute”

#technoblade #sapnap #georgenotfound #dream #the dream team #dtblr #sleepyblr #philza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #fanfic

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somethingthatsaysbubbles · 1 year

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10 Fandoms 10 Characters 10 Tags

Thank you @raemoriendi for the tag! 🖤 Way more than 10 characters, so I apologize, but I’m also not sorry.

Coral Island - Pablo. It’s a fandom of maybe like three people, so is it really a fandom? Probably not, but I’m here thirsting after the cute blacksmith anyway. Come into my house, and kiss me about it.

@morvantmortuary - Maxi, Hex, and Rora. (Make me choose, I dare you.) If the Morvants have a million fans, I am one of them. If the Morvants have ten fans, I am one of them. If the Morvants have only one fan, that is me. If the Morvants have no fans, that means I’m dead. If the world is against the Morvants, I am against the world. Is this a fandom? It is in my heart, and that’s what matters.

MCU - Baron Helmut Zemo. Don’t talk to me about Thunderbolts, I’m angy.

The Alienist - Laszlo Kreizler. Love of my life. Instant joy. I wrote a fanfic about him. It was pretty good.

MCU - Jack Russell from Werewolf by Night. I’ve only had this man for 53 minutes, but if anything happened to him I’d burn Marvel to the ground. (I wanna write something for him, but with what free time? Let’s be honest.)

The Addams Family - Morticia and Gomez Addams. Chillest fandom ever. We all just see the Addamses and collectively say “Yeah, I’ll reblog that.” Beautiful. (Legally, I can’t choose between them. Those are my parents.)

The Sandman - Dream of the Endless. I just think he’s neat.

Star Wars - Cassian Andor. I’m not super involved in the fandom, but like I’m still a massive Star Wars nerd. I even went to Galaxy’s Edge, disneybounding as Darth Maul/a generic Sith. (Check out my Instragram somethingthatsaysbubbles for proof.)

Arcane - Viktor. I need Season 2. I need it. Viktor is a comfort character, don’t ask me why. It says nothing about who I am as a person. I promise.

The Batman - Paul Dano’s Riddler. He’s disgusting and vile and pathetic, and I love him.

Bonus: Stranger Things - Eddie Munson. If you know, you know. 🖤

10 tags. No pressure:

@burritoni @lorna-d-m @trelaney @rosemaremembrance @maximoffwxnda @bruhlsbees @lightinthedarkuniverse @spookyspiderboiii @scuttle-buttle @eldritchcircus and anyone else who’s interested!

#tag game #thank you #rae #my beloved

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silverlysilence · 4 years

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TDoDE: Dagur’s Redemption

@fabllama02, you asked about Dagur’s redemption, I give you Dagur’s redemption. I can’t do simple and this ended up way longer than just a few bullet points.

(RttE: A Time to Skrill)

“That's gotta be the right cage. It's the only one submerged in the water,” upon hearing Hiccup’s voice, Jackson forcibly tore his gaze away from the cages. Fingers twitched across his staff, needing to free the dragons trapped inside but there wasn’t the time. The Dragon Hunters were sure to figure out the Jorgensons’ distraction for what it was any minute and they couldn’t allow the Skrill to fall into their hands. After freeing the Skrill, the Druid promised himself they’d free the rest of the caged Creatures of Magic. Even if they were forced to retreat, he would come back for them. “Cover me.”

Slipping from Toothless’s back after Hiccup, Jackson followed the auburn-haired Viking’s lead. Even before Hiccup yanked the hide off the cage, he knew the Strike-class dragon was housed within. The Druid could feel the charge in the air and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention as the Skrill locked eyes with the Night Fury rider. An angered screech wrenched from deep within the dragon’s chest as he expressed his dislike of the Viking.

“I know you can't fire while you're in the water. But don't worry. We're here to help,” Hiccup strove to soothe the agitated dragon. Taking a step forward and into the water, the Dragon Rider held out his hand to show the dragon he meant no harm. A hand which Jackson immediately yanked out of the way as the Skrill snapped at the offending appendage.

The action drew the Strike-class dragon’s attention towards him. Jackson felt the auburn-haired teenager stiffen when he noticed where the Skrill’s gaze now resided but the Druid release the Viking’s wrist in favor of holding his hand out to the caged Creature of Fire. Golden eyes softened as the dragon sniffed the offered hand, a spark jumping from his horn to that of Jackson’s ring finger and while he didn’t flitch, the tables had turned. This time, it was Hiccup yanking his hand away as Toothless jumped between them, snarling at the suddenly hostile Skrill.

“Jackson!”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, he’s just scenting me,” the brunet reassured both Strike-class dragons and Dragon Rider alike. His silvery voice weaving a sense of calm into the air as he gently pulled away from Hiccup. Never once did amber eyes leave the golden gaze. “Let's just calm down and keep quiet or they'll hear us.”

“Oh, it's too late for that,” Ryker’s voice had Jackson wrenching his eyes from the caged dragon as both he and Hiccup turned to find the Dragon Hunters had them surrounded, bows aimed at each one of the riders’ hearts. Toothless screeched and lunged for the closest hunter. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far as two men jumped from the tops of the nearby cages and entangled him in the net strung out between them. A tactic that proved itself effective as it was used on the other riders’ dragons as well.

A group of men shoved Snotlout forward, prodding him with the tips of their swords as Spitelout grumbled unintelligible words at their captors. What really had Jackson on edge though were the unnerving chuckles he heard well before Dagur peeled away from the shadows, an unsettling grin on his face.

“Told you he'd come back for my Skrill. How could you, Hiccup? Oh! But look, you brought me my Druid!” the deranged Viking reached out to stroke the brunet’s cheek, but Jackson quickly backpedaled out of the way.

His back collided with the lattice bars of the cage and yet the hand still came for him. Amber orbs dilated, pupils mere pinpricks too focused on Dagur to see Ryker holding his sword to Hiccup’s throat, preventing him from moving any closer. The ringing in his ears drowned out the shouts of his friends. He did, however, feeling the charge in the air intensify and the next thing he knew was the deranged Viking reeling back as the Skrill lunged through the bars, drawing blood.

“Bad dragon! Bad dragon!”

“Good dragon,” Jackson didn’t know who whispered the words the winds carried to his ears but he readily agreed with the statement.

“Never mind the boy, Dagur. Just look at all the new dragons your friend has brought us,” Ryker forced the angered auburn-haired Viking to walk backwards towards the rest of the Dragon Riders. Vivid green eyes a lit with a fury rarely seen in the young leader. It was lost on the Dragon Hunter as he waved his second sword towards the dragons struggling their way to freedom from beneath the nets. “Cage 'em up. And muzzle the Night Fury.”

“What are you thinking?” Astrid asked when Hiccup was shoved into the circle with a calculating gaze solidifying in vivid green eyes. The shieldmaiden kept her voice low enough their captors couldn’t hear them, but it just was loud enough for the rest of the riders to hear everything.

Hiccup hummed, eyes darting from the trapped form of Jackson towards the two hunters wrestling a muzzle on Toothless and back again. “That the enemy of my enemy—"

“Might kill us all?” the shieldmaiden cut him off.

“I don’t think so,” vivid green eyes focused on the Skrill as he nudged the trembling Druid through the bars. “I think he might help us.”

Despite the distance, despite the whispered tones he used, despite the winds whisking the words away as soon as they left his mouth. Jackson heard him. He must have. For amber eyes snapped in his direction, more focused than they had been a moment before and with the slightest of inclination of his head, Jackson reached behind him and trailed his fingers up the Skrill’s snout. He didn’t snap at the brunet as he had Hiccup and Dagur. There were a few sparks that jumped from him to the Druid and back again but other than that, nothing.

The Skrill did not attack Jackson.

Hiccup didn’t care about any other factors, the proof the Skrill would not harm Jackson was all it took for him to make a break for it. His sudden burst of action was all it took for the Dragon Riders to follow his lead. Snotlout and Astrid easily disarmed the hunters nearest them as Fishlegs charged at the men daring to manhandle Meatlug. The twins were more than happy to bloody their fists, leaving an opening for Spitelout to take on the men on their flank. Without a weapon, Hiccup ducked under the sword sloppily swung in his direction and kept on going. He didn’t stop to incapacitate the swordsman—the man did that himself, overbalancing himself and falling forward onto his blade—and ran straight at the men barely managing to coral the raging Night Fury.

Tackling them to the ground, the auburn-haired Viking knew he couldn’t keep them there long, but he needed have too. “Toothless! The cage!”

Toothless didn’t need to be told twice and lunged for the cage as Jackson flipped up on top of it—using Dagur’s face as a springboard---and met the dragon on the other side.

“Sorry for this,” the brunet shouted as he rammed his shoulder against the thick latticed bars. It was more of the Night Fury throwing his whole body into the bars than anything he did that had the caged toppled over and out of the water.

Toothless did not stick around once the penned Skrill was on land. Instead, he leapt up on top of the cage and used it to launch himself at the two hunters who’d gotten the upper hand over his rider. They didn’t stand a chance and Hiccup was too busy watching Jackson hastily work to break the lock to see what became of them. It was a good thing too or else he wouldn’t have seen Ryker aiming an arrow towards the Druid’s unprotected back.

“No! Jackson!” the warning came not a moment too soon as the metal door fell to the ground with an audible clang while Jackson rolled out of the way. As for the arrow, it didn’t stand a chance when faced with a blast of pure lightning.

With a screech, the Skrill stepped forward. Wings flared out, obscuring the crouched form of Jackson from view as little motes of sparks flickered across the dragon’s spines growing larger as they scuttled across dark grey scales.

“Uh, what's it doing?” Dagur questioned, picking himself up off the ground where he fallen in his hast to get out of the way of the overturned cage.

“You tell me. It's your dragon,” Ryker growled, pointing one of his swords at the Strike-class dragon. His mistake

“Oh, no,” the deranged Viking’s whimper was obscured by the crackling lightning but it was the booming thunder from above that deafened the uttered spell.

“Ligetræsc.”

Lightning raced down from the sky, striking the Skrill and with a mighty flap of his wings, the Strike-class dragon launched itself at the hunters. Sharp barbs dented armor as fangs bit into the metal of Ryker’s sword. Dagur’s screams from the Skrill’s barbed tail coiling around his torso were quickly silenced when the Strike-class dragon tossed Ryker up into the air like a ragdoll with a shake of his head and released the lightning gathered a crossed his scales with a flare of his wings. The majority of it rained down upon the encampment, sending the rest of the hunters fleeing in terror but a portion of it traveled down his spin and zapped the deranged Viking before he was roughly tossed into a cage with a flick of the Skrill’s tail.

The grey dragon let out another screech before hurtling up into the air, catching a second bolt of lightning which he used to send out much smaller blasts at the fleeing hunters. Divebombing all those who dare raise a weapon towards him, talons greedily sank into flesh whenever possible.

“Hiccup, the cages!” Jackson shout drew Hiccup’s frantic search away from the surrounding chaos up to the top of a cage where the Druid was busy pulling Fishlegs up on to with him.

Vivid green eyes swiftly darted around. Noting how the bolts of lightning crashing down all around him were miraculously missing the occupied cages. He didn’t even get the chance to realize the Skrill was intentionally avoiding the cages before Toothless had him by the back of his shirt and was leaping up onto the nearest cage. He would have fallen—his prosthetic slipping through the latticed bars—if not for Astrid grabbing hold of his arm and steadying him. Hiccup muttered an absentminded thanks as his eyes searched out the rest of his riders. Not too far from him, both the twins were atop another cage, their skilled hands working to pick the locks while Snotlout just smashed the one he was standing upon with his mace.

That only left Spitelout unaccounted for and not for long.

“NO!” Jackson cry alerted Hiccup and vivid green eyes swiftly followed amber towards Spitelout still on the ground, surrounded by down hunters with one of their bows with a Dragon Root tipped arrow in his hands.

The Night Fury rider didn’t think and jumped from the cage, rushing towards the Jorgenson. He wasn’t the only one to hear the Druid and the Skrill did not take kindly to yet another weapon aimed at him. Hiccup used his upper body to drive his shoulder into Spitelout’s side, sending him cantering into the ground and causing the arrow to go wide. A loud thump had Hiccup very slowly looking up from the sprawled-out form of the older Jorgenson to the Skrill standing just a few feet from him, lightning dancing across his scales.

A presence at his side had Hiccup glancing out of the corner of his eyes to see Jackson standing at his side, smiling sheepishly at the dragon. “Please don’t harm Jorgenson, he’s an idiot, but he’s a part of the tribe and we can’t exactly go back without him.”

The Skrill huffed and sent a small jolt of lightning at Spitelout but otherwise lowered his wings.

“Thank you,” Jackson truly smiled at the dragon who just grumbled. Golden eyes than turned towards Hiccup and for a moment, the Viking had a feeling the Skrill was going to attack him—what with the lightning sparking in between his teeth, it was hard not to think that—still bitter about him freezing him in the ice. However, the dragon bowed his head at him and for a moment, Hiccup stood there stunned before an elbow to his ribs had him bowing back. With one last grumble, the Skrill took to the air and disappeared into the gathered storm clouds. “Okay, let’s free the rest of the dragons and get out of here.”

“Way ahead of you, bro,” Tuffnut came up to his side, swinging an arm around Jackson’s shoulders while waving Macey about. A glance up revealed the flock of newly freed dragons heading out in the opposite direction. “Sayonara!”

“In that case, let’s get out of here before any of the hunters come back or wake up,” Hiccup said just as Dagur let out a groan.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jackson hastily agreed, pulling himself up into Toothless’s saddle.

Maybe, if they had stayed any longer, they would have seen Dagur look around him in confusion. Hazy eyes flashing before darkening once again as he fell back into unconsciousness.

---

(RttE: Family on the Edge)

“Hey guys, how did the practice run go?” Jackson asked as the last of the dragons touched down on the stables’ landing strip. No surprise that it was Meatlug taking up the rear with Hookfang not too far ahead of the Gronckle.

“Slow and inaccurate,” Heather informed as she swung down from Windshear’s saddle.

The brunet paused in what he was doing and glanced over at the twins with a raised eyebrow. Tuffnut did his best to look guiltless and gave him a shrug which had amber eyes rolling, not believing the blond Viking for a second. The wicked grin Ruffnut shot his way had him scrunching up his nose but when she held up a hand with three fingers and a pleading look, he accepted. After all, the Thorstons now owed him three favors.

Turning back towards Heather, the Druid cocked his head to the side and stared at her with wide innocent eyes. “How do you know Muffnut and Scruffnut’s nicknames for the twins?”

The dark-haired shieldmaiden faltered, sharp eyes giving him the once over before snapping towards the blond twins currently wearing their ‘I told you so grins’ on their face. “Hard not to when ‘Slow’ declared his nickname from his older twin siblings was inaccurate.”

Jackson hummed and then shot her a grin. “Accurate.”

Heather couldn’t prevent herself from laughing. “Yeah, alright, you got me. So, you want some help with dinner?”

“You sure you want to help? Don’t you want to have a bit of shut-eye before dinner like those sleepless idiots over there?” the Druid jerked a thumb back over his shoulder where Hiccup and Astrid were busy still discussing tactics and alternative plans to raid Viggo’s shipyard and knock out his fleet.

“Unlike them, I actually went to bed when I said I would last night and didn’t stay up another four hours,” Heather huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“Then I’ll gladly take you up on that offer, but first, do me a favor and cover your ears,” the shieldmaiden didn’t question him and did as he asked. She was glad she did too when not even a second later a high pitch whistle had her wincing even with her ears covered. The rest of the Dragon Riders weren’t so lucky and were cringing as Jackson let his fingers fall from his lips. “Alright, the lot of you, if I see anyone before dinner is ready instead of in bed getting at least some type of rest, I’m taking that to mean you want to help me collect herbs tomorrow morning before the sunrises. Do I have any volunteers?”

“Hm-uh, neither slow nor inaccurate,” Heather commented, watching as the group hightailed it off the decking and towards their various huts. “So, what are we cooking for dinner?”

“Gotta use the rest of the boar meat before it goes bad,” Jackson scrunched up his nose and the Razorwhip rider couldn’t help but do the same. It would be the fourth time they had boar that week and they were getting sick of it, but she—and Jackson—knew better than the rest never to waste food. The other riders might think they know what hunger felt like but they never went weeks at a time without food. She, on the other hand, had during her time living alone in the wild and she knew Jackson knew what true starvation felt like too.

“True,” the dark-haired shieldmaiden hummed. “Maybe we can pair it with some kind of sauce?”

“I think I saw some juniper berries on the other side of the island that I think would make a good spiced sauce,” the brunet said after a moment of thought

“No offense Jackson, but I really don’t feel like walking to the other side of the island just for juniper berries,” Heather gave a pointed look at the saddle she just finished taking off of the Razorwhip.

The Druid laughed as he threw Stormfly’s saddle over his shoulder so he could pick up Meatlug’s resting at his feet. “Yeah, guess you’re right, it would be a bit far on foot and Windshear deserves a break after all those practice runs. I did collect some lingonberries to trade with the Wyldfae today but I can always get more tomorrow. I could even get the juniper berries as well.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, I’ll even help you collect them,” the teenager agreed, taking Barf and Belch’s saddles from a few of the Wyldfae as a few more followed after Jackson with Hookfang’s saddle. With a pat to the side, Heather left Windshear in Fawn’s capable hands with the other dragons as they stored the saddles in the tack room.

“Great,” Jackson grinned, trading Hookfang’s saddle for a lingonberry and proceeded to place it on the only empty rack. “Snotlout and Fawn usually help collect herbs and other such things. It’ll be nice to have someone else there that knows what’s poisonous or not and to keep those two from killing us all. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Fawn is an expert when it comes to fauna, but she can’t tell the difference between a blackberry shrub and poison ivy. Though, Snotlout has gotten better at identifying a few common plants.”

“Snotlout helps you collect herbs?” Heather side-eyed the Druid as she gave Vidia a clipping of wool larger than she was in exchange for her to treat the leather of the saddles.

“Who else would help me? The Wyldfae do tend to help, but only for little things but not in the vast quantities needed to keep Dragon’s Edge stocked,” amber eyes gave a pointed look to the Wee Folk currently weighed down by the wool but quickly divided it up between a few nearby fae in exchange for their help.

“I never thought of it,” the shieldmaiden cringed, making a mental note to be mindful of the weight of the items she offered up in trade. “I would have guessed that was more Fishlegs’s thing what with his garden and all.”

“Nah,” Jackson shook his head as they left the stables, heading for the gangplanks and up towards the Clubhouse. “Fishlegs knows enough about topiaries and flowers to keep his serenity garden thriving, but he’s not the type to go out trekking through the forest searching for illusive and rare flora.”

“And Snotlout is?”

The brunet could not hold back his snort. “By the gods, no. He couldn’t care less about the flora but the adventure that comes with it searching for the—as he refers to it as—‘leafy green stuff’? Yeah, he’d be down for climbing the tallest of trees just to pick the fruits or screaming his lungs out as he chases wild boars away, preventing them from trampling on the only known patch of raspberries on the island because he knows they’re my favorite. Even if he says otherwise.”

Heather blinked as amber eyes rolled at the last statement. “He did that?”

“Yeah, just last week. Snotlout, might try to come off tough and hardcore, but deep down—and I do mean deep down, because he can be an utter asshole most of the time—he does have a caring side to him.”

“I never knew that,” Heather glanced over at Snotlout’s hut with a renewed interest in her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s because he doesn’t want to appear weak,” the Druid grumbled as they finally made it to the Clubhouse. “I blame his father for that.”

“Duly noted,” the shieldmaiden held her tongue upon hearing the edge in Jackson’s voice usually reserved for Dragon Hunters and the likes. She wanted to ask more, but knew now was not the time to ask and even then, it would be better to ask Fishlegs in that regard. Of all the Hooligans, the blond Viking was the easiest to get information out of, some of it he really shouldn’t have been sharing and she would have to teach him not to. After she got the information she wanted. “So, got any more stories about Snotlout that I should know about?”

“A whole longboat’s worth,” the brunet flashed her a wicked smile and if she didn’t know Jackson was a follower of Jökul Frosti, Heather would have thought he followed in the twins’ devotion for Loki the Silvertongue. It would have explained how the Druid was a master of telling stories without telling any outright lies or revealing anything he didn’t want to.

“By all means, please share.” Heather had no doubt the stories he weaved might be embarrassing anecdotes about the Monstrous Nightmare rider but none of them would reveal anything that could be used against Snotlout. It was why she trusted Jackson with so many of her secrets. Because she knew he would never tell them to anyone, just like he would never tell Snotlout’s secrets to her.

By the time any of the other riders wandered in from their naps, Heather was nearly on the floor with laughter. Jackson’s stories had long ago begun trailing away from just Snotlout to other stories he couldn’t very well tell to children but were more than appropriate for her ears casing the time flew to by as they worked in tandem preparing dinner. At some point, Astrid had slipped in and pitched in by setting the table while the Druid finished one of his stories and prompted him to tell her the one about Gobber taking over for Gothi for the day. He obliged and Snotlout was more than willing to add his recollection of Agnar’s mishap with Gobber’s stomach cure when he wandered in. Fishlegs had the unfortunate timing of coming in as the Monstrous Nightmare rider finished his rather detailed description of the poor man losing control over his bowels and his face went green. Thankfully, the twins arrived and pushed him into the Clubhouse before he could flee and Tuffnut immediately launched into a story of his own.

Jackson gladly let the Thorston take over as he and Heather began transferring the food to the table, listening with one ear to Tuffnut’s tale. “—but somebody better explain how yak stew got in my pants. It was so warm.”

Hearty laughter filled the room, joined halfway through by a nasally chortle that was a pitch too high to be genuine. Amber eyes flickered over to find Hiccup had finally wandered in as he brought the last two plates to the table. A single brown eyebrow quirked upwards, soon joined by the second when the auburn-haired Viking refused to meet his eyes. Taking a seat next to Heather, he passed her the extra plate which she took and passed down to the table to the opened seat.

A seat which Hiccup didn’t take and remained standing just between Fishlegs and Ruffnut’s chairs. “Hey… uh—speaking of soggy pants—you ever wonder what happened to Dagur and his crazy pants?”

The bite of boar he was about to take was returned to his plate due to his sudden lack of appetite. The silence that befell the group was deafening and Jackson feigned not noticing the multiple pairs of eyes glancing in his and the shieldmaiden’s direction. Next to him, Heather tensed as she defiantly glared back at anyone sending them pitying glances, which had Fishlegs’s shrinking into his seat.

Snotlout didn’t even looked towards them and instead focused his ire on to his cousin. “Uh. No.”

“And for the record, I don't think his pants were that crazy,” Ruffnut endeavored to break the rising tension and it would have worked too if the Gronckle rider didn’t feel the need to continue the conversation opposed to moving on to another topic.

“What brings Dagur up, anyway-oof?” Fishlegs ended with a gasp as the blonde Viking’s boney elbow ended up in his side and the scowl she sent his way spoke of more to come if he opened his mouth again.

“Nothing,” the high-pitched denial had Jackson pausing in pushing his food around his plate and actually looking at Hiccup. The Night Fury rider still wasn’t looking at him. Neither was he wasn’t looking at anyone, refusing to make eye contact, and that had amber eyes narrowing. “But since we're on the subject of Dagur now… uh… Do you ever wonder why he helped Heather escape from Viggo?”

Astrid, composed as usual, supplied a throwaway answer to put an end to the conversation. “Probably as a distraction so he could get away himself.”

“Maybe,” Hiccup brushed off the answer but he didn’t let the topic drop. “I don't know. But what if it was actually the first step on a path toward a new life?”

“A new life? Dagur?” That was the final tipping point; Heather had enough, fist slamming onto the table. She almost knocked over her tankard of water in the process but Jackson’s hand shot out, catching the mug before it could spill onto her lap. “A dragon doesn’t change its markings, Hiccup.”

“Uh, technically—” the hefty blond began.

“Except for a Changewing, yes, I know,” the dark-haired shieldmaiden finished for Fishlegs, missing that it was Ruffnut’s elbow to his side that had him trailing off.

“And a—arg.” Apparently, he didn’t learn after the first two times.

“You get the point!” Heather snapped as Fishlegs let out a whimper of pain.

Hiccup made an effort to pacify the wound up shieldmaiden. “Right. You're probably right. But then again…uh, who would've thought that my father, Stoick the Vast, would ever learn to ride a dragon? You never know. Next time we see Dagur—”

The sound of a chair screeching against the floor silenced the room as Jackson abruptly stood. “Heather, I’ll take your island patrol tonight since you haven’t had the time to get any rest.”

Amber eyes refused to meet anyone’s eyes—especially vivid green eyes now desperately trying to catch his own—as he spun on his heels, grabbing his staff from where it was propped up against the wall as he left the Clubhouse.

Heather used the distraction to take a deep breath and held it for a second before letting it out slowly. “I think I’ll join Jackson. I’m too worked up to go to sleep now.” The shieldmaiden stood to follow the Druid, emerald eyes focusing on vivid green. “And if I ever see that father-killer, I’ll split him in two.”

“Uh… Actually, I'll do that,” Hiccup glanced worryingly towards the door the Druid exited before returning his attention to her. “I have a way more important mission for you.”

“You do?” the Razorwhip rider asked, taken aback.

“Of course I do. It's… uh,” the Head of the Dragon Riders stumbled, eyes once more trailing over to the door before snapping back to Heather, skirting over Snotlout in the process. “One final recon mission to check out our target. You and Snotlout.”

Upon hearing his name, the Monstrous Nightmare rider’s attention jumped back to his cousin. “What are you talking about? We went last time.”

“I know! That's why I'm sending you again. To be on the lookout for any last-minute changes,” Hiccup gestured his hand towards the general direction of Viggo’s shipyard.

“That sort of makes sense,” the shieldmaiden agreed hesitantly. Though, she would much rather find Jackson and patrol the island with him. At least then she would have someone to commiserate with.

“And you should leave tonight,” the Night Fury rider hastily tacked on.

“Tonight? But I promised Jackson I’d help him collect leafy green things tomorrow! Argh! It's gonna take a whole day to get there!” Snotlout made his displeasure known but he didn’t outright refuse.

“Jeez, Hiccup, are you trying to get rid of us?” Heather joked, wondering if this was Hiccup’s way of giving her space after being insensitive and bringing up the brother she’d rather forget.

“Yes. No, no! That's crazy. Why would I—” the Razorwhip rider put the fumbling leader out of his misery with a chuckle. By the gods, Hiccup was terrible at coming up with an excuse to hide his real reason for sending her out to let off some steam.

“I'm kidding, Hiccup. Relax. Come on, Snotlout. The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll get back to help Jackson collect herbs,” Heather grabbed the brawny Viking by the arm and hauled him out of his seat.

“Take your time… and by that, I mean, be safe,” Hiccup’s parting words had her smiling at his concern.

---

“Morning Hiccup.”

“A—astrid!” Hiccup jumped as if he had been caught doing something wrong as he quickly slammed the door to his hut closed. “What are you doing—here—so early?”

The blonde shieldmaiden gave him a funny look, but indicated to Sharpshot perched on her shoulder. “Got a Terror Mail from Jackson. Says patrol last night was uneventful, but don’t expect him back anytime soon. He’s going to explore the island more on foot.”

“That’s perfect,” the auburn-haired Viking sighed as the tension left his shoulders only for him to stiffen under the scrutiny of Astrid’s narrowed gaze. “I mean, it’s perfect for him. He likes exploring the island.”

“Hiccup,” the Deadly Nadder rider addressed him in the tone she usually reserved for the twins. “He knows this island better than any of us, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a place he hasn’t explored. I think he just wants some time to himself after last night.”

“R—right,” the Night Fury rider awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “I knew that.”

Rolling her eyes, Astrid shook her head. “I’m sure you did. Look, I don’t know what was up with you last night, but whatever hairbrained notion you’ve got in your head now. Just drop it, for all our sakes.”

The shieldmaiden didn’t give him time to respond, just turned on her heels and headed off back the way she came.

---

“That’s better,” Dagur rubbed the feeling back into his wrist now that he was freed from the rope and eyed the chicken the Dragon Riders had left to guard him. He wasn’t sure if it had been some kind of slight against him or if the chicken really could alert the Hooligans to his escape. Either way, it would be best not to take chances and the knife he’d used to cut his binding was perfectly balanced. He could easily throw it through the bars and kill the chicken but that left a bad taste in his mouth. He was trying to gain their trust and if he killed Tuffnut’s pet, that was not ideal to gaining their trust or forgiveness.

On the other hand, if he didn’t get out of here than he would personally burn Dragon’s Edge to the ground.

A squawk had jaded green eyes glancing up to see Chicken—wings flapping excitedly—as she slipped through the stable’s doors left ajar. He waited a few moments to see if the fowl returned and then a few more just on the safe side. When Chicken didn’t return and he couldn’t even hear the bird’s clucking the Berserker turned to Shattermaster.

“What do you say, wanna help me breakout of here?”

“You do that and I’ll lay you out faster than you can blink.”

Dagur did not jump. He was a trained warrior, the—wayward—Chief of the Berserker Tribe, and he instinctively threw the knife in his palm as he whirled around. The blade embedded itself into the support beam but should have gone into flesh. Blood drained from his face as slim fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife and yanked it from the wood without breaking eye contact with him.

“Jackson,” Dagur gulped as amber eyes flickered dangerously. “I—I—I did—didn’t mean to.”

“Clearly,” the brunet scoffed, tilting his head back and obscuring the mark his knife had created.

“I Swear—”

“Stop talking, Dagur.”

The Berserker’s jaw snapped shut, earning him a narrowed look from Jackson that had him gulping down the words trying to escape. They stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, amber eyes never leaving him and Dagur wished he could claim the same, but his eyes were drawn towards the crystal hanging ominously from his staff, pulsating with light. Shattermaster glanced back and forth between them but seeing that the brunet made no move towards his rider and his rider made no moves towards the brunet, the Boulder-class dragon was more than happy to feast upon the granite left for him.

Finally, Dagur couldn’t take the silence any longer and opened his mouth.

“Is it true?”

“What?” the Berserker faltered at the question.

“Is what you said to Hiccup true?” Jackson asked as the hand around his staff tightened to the point his knuckles lost all color. His knife still in the Druid’s other hand held to the side but the Viking knew Jackson was far faster than him. While he had strength on his side, the brunet was pure speed and if it came down to it, Dagur wasn’t sure if he could overpower the Druid without causing a commotion that would bring the rest of the Dragon Riders running.

Dagur opened his mouth once more only to close it on his own accord and repeat the process a few more times. “How do you know what I said? Hiccup said you left the Edge and he wasn’t lying. I should know, he’s a terrible liar.”

“You’re right. Hiccup is a terrible liar. That’s how I knew something was up and knew to keep an eye out,” Jackson huffed, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement before smoothing back out. “He didn’t lie though. I did leave the Edge, but I didn’t leave the island.”

“You’ve been following him, since when?” the redhead asked in shock. He couldn’t believe his brother was careless enough to let Jackson follow him and didn’t even notice.

“Since he met up with you in your camp by the western coast. You should really learn how to make a campfire that’ll last you the night if you’re going to be sleeping outside without any supplies. I should have let you freeze to death last night and be done with it.”

“You followed me? You couldn’t have,” Dagur denied but the denial on his lips tasted false and the Druid’s words rang true. He had misjudged how cold the island got and there hadn’t been enough wood for his fire to burn all night. Yet, when he’d woken in the morning, his fire was blessedly putting out enough heat to keep the chill at bay.

Jaded eyes stared into unimpressed amber. A brown eyebrow quirked upwards, daring the Viking to challenge him.

Dagur wisely kept his mouth shut.

“I ask again, did you or did you not mean what you said to Hiccup about not letting anything happen to Heather?”

The Berserker got the feeling he’d already used up all the goodwill and patience Jackson had for him and didn’t bother with some elaborate, long-winded explanation. “She’s my little sister.”

Jackson froze.

Dagur didn’t even think he was breathing before the whispered words reached his ears. “And there’s nothing an older brother wouldn’t do for his little sister.”

He wasn’t sure if Jackson was talking to him or was speaking to himself but nodded in agreement anyways.

Letting out a deep breath, the Druid flipped the blade in his hand and held out the hilt towards Dagur. When jaded green eyes looked from it to amber orbs but didn’t take it, Jackson huffed.

“Well, come on then. If we’re going to prove this really is a trap, then it would be best if you don’t go unarmed.” Hesitantly he took the knife back, slipping it back into his boot as he mulled over what the Druid said.

“We? As in--?” Dagur trailed off.

“You and me,” Jackson answered, walking passed him and towards the locked door.

“I can work with that,” the Berserker nodded, already making plans and taking into account the Druid’s safety. If something were to happen to him on Dagur’s watch, there was no question the Hairy Hooligan Tribe would declare war on him and it wouldn’t just be Hiccup and his little ragtag team coming after him this time. No, it would be the entire tribe. He couldn’t let anything happen to Jackson but there was a slight problem. “Not sure how well Shattermaster will handle two riders.”

“Please, I’ve never rode with anyone other than Hiccup and Toothless and I’m not about to start now, especially since it would be you I’d be riding with,” Jackson tossed over his shoulder as he casually swung the stall door opened as if it hadn’t previously been locked. It had. Dagur knew it had. He’d tried it before. Then again. He’d been alone in the stall with only Shattermaster and the brunet had someone gotten inside without him noticing.

“And how are you going to get to Viggo’s shipyard without Toothless?”

“You leave that to me.”

---

The Berserker chief may not know what language Jackson was speaking in as he got his first look at Viggo’s shipyard from a few sea stacks away but Dagur knew a string of curses when he heard one.

“How did Astrid miss this? How did Heather miss this? It’s obviously a trap,” the Druid seethed in the only language Dagur understood as he switched the spyglass to another of the boats.

“Don’t ask me. I never even saw it before and I knew it was a trap,” the redhead finished tossing the last of the granite to Shattermaster as the Gronckle greedily ate after flying through the night.

Amber orbs pulled away from the spyglass and glared up at him. “You also worked alongside Viggo.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dagur chuckled nervously. “True, but I have changed.”

“We’ll see,” Jackson mumbled as he returned to the spyglass and scanned the horizon, muttering under his breath as the silent breeze tussled brown locks. The Viking was rather impressed with his observation skills as he picked out the camouflage netting and correctly identified the ballistae and archers hidden behind them. How, Dagur wasn’t sure since knowing for he knew for a fact the Druid wouldn’t be able to see through those particular camouflage netting. He did know Jackson was correct even without seeing it himself, after all, he had insider knowledge of Viggo and his tactics. “Oh no. Oh no.”

“What?” Dagur demanded even as the brunet scrambled up onto his feet.

“They’re here. Hiccup and the others are coming this way. They must have realized you were missing and followed us. We have to do something before they do,” Jackson hastily explained as he fumbled to put his cloak back on after discarding it to keep the fluttering fabric from giving away their position. “You and Shattermaster take care of the hunters. I don’t care how you do it, but clear the ships of anyone living and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“And just how are you going to do that?” Dagur looked him up and down, about to demand the brunet stay there and he’d take care of everything but Jackson was already holding his staff high in the air. A sudden squall knocked him off his feet and he nearly went over the edge of the sea stack. Shattermaster prevented his untimely bath and caught him, flipping the Viking onto his back. When the Berserker reoriented himself and looked down, the blue dot which was Jackson was gone.

Cursing like only a Viking could, Dagur urged the Gronckle on, glancing behind him to find that his little mishap hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Dragon Riders heading this way and cursed some more. “Well, we only live once, don’t we boy? Now let’s go get us some hunters.”

Pulling his throwing knives from his belt, the Chief of Berserkers readied himself for battle.

“Ahoy, in the shipyard! I have a message for Viggo,” Dagur called out as soon as he was in earshot, making sure to be loud and obnoxious as possible to gain as many of the hunters’ attention. It worked and the Gronckle and rider were in the crosshairs of too many bows. “Tell him Dagur the Deranged says hello.”

With that he tossed his two knives at the longboat beneath him. One of them sinking into the exposed throat of a hefty man and the other wedging itself into a barrel as a second man took cover. Shattermaster followed the trajectory of the second blade and spewed lava in the knife’s general vicinity. The barrels Dagur suspected housed explosives detonated just as a flash of blue from the corner of his eye disappeared over the longboat’s railing.

Now he just needed to make sure Jackson and him got out of this alive. “Come on, Shattermaster! Let's show 'em what a real rider and his dragon can do!”

Flying straight through a barrage of arrows was exhilarating, especially when not a single one hit him with the sudden gusts of wind. The smoke from the various explosives Shattermaster’s lava set off was making it hard for him to see but his knives still found their target and many of the hunters soon threw themselves overboard rather than face a raging Gronckle. He was on his last few knives when a pained yelp had his maniacal giggles dying in his throat. A sharp glanced down at his dragon revealed a bolt protruding out of Shattermaster’s left wing that had him seeing red.

“Dagur!” deranged green eyes snapped up to see Jackson standing a top of the mast of the nearest longboat, blue cloak fluttering in the gales of wind as he flung a handful of rocks into the air. The Viking didn’t even have time to question the ludicrous of throwing useless pebbles when the Druid raised his staff. “Get out of here!”

The redhead disregarded the warning and headed straight for Jackson, intending to grab him and fly off. But a familiar screech from above had him looking up at the gathered storm clouds to find lightning dancing within the grey skies, illuminating the silhouette of the being that inspired the Berserker Tribe’s crest.

“Ligetræsc.”

Lightning came crashing down. Drawn towards each of the boat and the bolt in Shattermaster’s wing. The last thing Dagur remembered before blacking out was the Druid shouting his name as the ocean water claimed him.

---

Dagur woke abruptly to something brushing his head and he instinctively lashed out. The weight immediately retreated and a yelp let him know he’d nicked his prey at the very least. Deranged green eyes glittered when he saw just who he’d cut.

“Druid—” the unbalanced smirk fell from his lips as he took in the blood flowing from the brunet’s hand cradled to his chest and a sinking feeling of all-consuming guilt came crashing down on him. “J—Jackson! I didn’t mean to— I reacted on instinct.”

Jackson recoiled when he reached out to grab the teenager’s hand to inspect the damage done which had Dagur rooted to the spot. A cold that had nothing to do with the damp hollow he now found himself in settled deep within his bones. The distrust resurfacing in those enthralling amber orbs had him shivering and wrenched a whimper from his throat.

“I—” Dagur knew he’d messed up badly and was only making it worse. He wasn’t sure why Jackson listened to a word he said after everything he’d put the younger teenager through, much less give him a chance to prove himself. By Freyr, if it were him, Dagur would let him to freeze to death in the night and how had he repaid Jackson’s kindness? By attacking him after raiding Viggo’s shipyard together.

Viggo’s shipyard.

Dagur’s head shot up, frantically searching for a clue to where they were. He wasn’t back on Outpost Island, that was for sure, and the Dragon Riders mustn’t have located them. If they had, there was no way he’d be left alone with Jackson which meant, the brunet was responsible for dragging him into the rickety wooden hollow.

“What happened? Please tell me Heather’s okay and Shattermaster! Where’s Shattermaster? The Dragon Hunters didn’t get them, did they?”

Amber eyes stared at him unblinkingly, head cocking to the side after a moment as a pensive look crossed the Druid’s face.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, Jackson answered. “I’m not sure what happened to Shattermaster after he got hit by the lightning. I only saw you come up to the surface and it was difficult enough to pull you to safety while going unnoticed. I didn’t want to chance going back out there right now.”

“Out there? Where are we?” Dagur took another look around, notice the incline of the wooden surface and following it down to the sea water lapping at the decking. “Don’t tell me.”

“We’re inside the hull of one of Viggo’s half sunken ships? Hard not to, just be thankful it capsized after being blow in half and the waves ran us aground. Means we’re no longer sinking and the only way for Viggo’s men to find us is if they bust through the hull or swim in through there,” the brunet gestured towards the water with his hand that had thankfully already stopped bleeding. “And I don’t think they know we’re here. We can wait for Viggo to collect his hunters—well, the ones that survived your initial attack, everyone else jumped ship before the lightning strike destroyed the ships—before trying to get out of here and look for Shattermaster.”

“How long do you reckon that will be?” the shrug he received in answer had the Viking praying to Freyr and the rest of the gods that the Gronckle survived. He didn’t think a measly bolt to the wing and a little lightning could take out Shattermaster. Besides, he was still alive and he’d been riding the dragon was hit by the lightning, so that must mean Shattermaster was alive too.

Dagur wasn’t sure. He’d spent his life hunting dragons, not caring for him.

Glancing up, jaded green eyes searched out Jackson to ask him the likelihood of Shattermaster’s survival but the question died on his lips when he found the brunet seated at the far end of the hull with his staff in his lap while he cared for his bloodied hand. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine,” Jackson answered shortly, his attention fixed solely on the hand he was currently awkwardly wrapping with a strip of cloth he’d pulled from his back pouch.

Dagur chewed at his lips, wanting to offer his assistance but knowing such an offer would not be appreciated at this time, and gave an apology instead. “I am sorry for lashing out. I was groggy and out of it when I woke up.”

The brunet didn’t say anything. For the longest of time, the only sound came from the water lapping against the wood and the creaking of the hull. If Dagur really strained his ears, he could hear the faint muffled sounds of the Dragon Hunters’ shouts and clamoring about.

“I don’t think that was it.”

Startled, jaded green eyes flickered over in time to see amber eyes disappearing behind brown locks.

“I didn’t mean to attack you. I swear, Jackson—”

“Stop,” Dagur did so, but not because the Druid asked him to. It was his eyes that had the Berserker complying. They were wide. Not with fear, but something Dagur couldn’t place. “That. That’s the third time.”

“Third time?”

“You called me by my name.”

“It’s your name?” Dagur’s confusion was clear in his voice.

“Exactly and you’ve never called me by name before. Ever,” Jackson pointed out, looking him over as if he was examining a prizewinning sheep. “I want to try something, but you have to remain completely still, got it?”

“Uh, okay?” the Berserker was confused where this was going but wasn’t about to ask. He’d already hurt the Druid once and whatever he was about to do, Dagur was willing to allow it if it meant Jackson felt safer around him. Slowly, the brunet shuffled over, stopping several feet away.

Biting at his lower lip, a look of uncertainty shimmered to life in Jackson’s eyes as he stared up at Dagur. “Can you sit down and press your hands on the ground, palms down?”

“Sure,” Dagur was uncertain but did as he was told, pressing his palms against the wooden decking on either side of him. It was only when tense shoulders loosened that he realized it had little to do with whatever the brunet had planned but had everything to do with making Jackson feel safe.

“Good,” the Druid let out a series of short breaths before kneeling down in front of the redhead. With a shaking hand, he reached out and gripped Dagur’s jaw with a firm but yielding grasp and proceeded to tilt his head to one side to study the scar on his face before tilting it back. Jaded green eyes stared into amber orbs as Jackson lift his staff up with his other hand, crystal dangling between their eyes. “Lig—”

Dagur’s right hand lashed out and wrapped itself around the brunet’s neck, suffocating the spell before it could leave his lips. “What do you think you’re doing, Druid?”

Jackson desperately clawed at the hand at his throat, but the iron grip didn’t budge. The Viking starred him down, deranged green eyes darkening as the crystal sparked and sputtered. The Berserker chief’s other hand quickly came up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it with enough force he nearly snapped the brunet’s wrist if he didn’t let go of his staff and he did. Jackson released his staff with a wheezed gasp, choking as he tried to pull air in his body.

“Druid—”

Jackson couldn’t breathe. Spots appeared in his vision and his eyelids grew heavy, unwilling to stay open.

“—Stop--”

His hand slipped from on top of the deranged Viking’s and fell to his side.

“ME!”

Amber eyes shot open as he threw the cloth from his pouch into the redhead’s face. Sunshine expelled from every fold in an intense burst of light. Screams filled the hull and the hands around his wrist and neck fell away as the redhead clawed at the cloth. With nothing supporting his dead weight anymore, Jackson fell to the side, gasping for breath. His adrenaline spiked a second later when his vision began to fade only for his oxygen deprived brain to realize the folded sunshine was on its last dredges. Weakly, he reached for his staff.

Trembling fingers brushed up against the gnarled wood and pulled it closer. Staff now in hand, Jackson forced himself on to unsteady legs. Only then did he take in the silence. The already unnerving sensation he had at being trapped in a capsized, half sunken ship with only Dagur for company skyrocketed. He didn’t need a mirror to know his pupil were mere pinpricks as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Jackson turned towards Dagur. The Viking was slumps down against the wall, the remnants of the folded sunshine weakly glowing in his lap. The skin on his face an angry red color but his scar? His scar was gone. There wasn’t a trace of the webbed scar created by the flames of a dragon.

Stoker-class Flames.

A flicker of something out of the corner of his eye had Jackson whirling around. Amber eyes strained to see through the darkness, his tired body on edge.

Strike-class Lightning.

There, in the darkest most corner was a shadow-like creature barely distinguishable in the darkness. It couldn’t be a Dream Pirate though. Jackson knew it wasn’t a Dream Pirate.

Folded sunshine.

An unnamed feeling of fear gripped his body. He knew it was impossible for Dream Pirates to possess humans and yet that thing had clearly been possessing the Berserker chief. But for how long? How much of Dagur’s actions were his own and how much weren’t?

All Three Light.

When the creature rotated—not tilted, but rotated—its head, Jackson got his answer as the white webbed burn like scar covering its otherwise faceless features was revealed. Dagur hadn’t gotten that scar during the battle on Outcast Island, the creature had.

All Three Magic.

The unnamed feeling of fear suddenly had a name.

Fearling.

“Liget!”

---

“--Be Safe. Your Brother Dagur,” Heather read the last line outload as drops soaked into the page. She tried to tell herself it was from the rain that began fall from the cloud laden sky but she would only be lying to herself.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, the shieldmaiden missed a streak of night as it tore through the clouds and out into dangerous water.

---

Hiccup pulled himself towards his hut, a heavy feeling weighing him down. A year ago, he would have never believe Dagur could have sacrificed himself for them. But after the deranged Viking had saved Toothless and him from the Dragon Hunters, he wasn’t so sure. It was like something inside Dagur had shifted and while the Head of the Dragon Training Academy was not about to trust him, he was willing to give the Berserker a second chance.

It was why he was willing to teach Dagur how to ride a dragon. Hiccup just wished he had more time to gauge the Berserker. If he had more time to observe this new man Dagur was becoming, he might have been able to trust his word that it was a trap. His death wasn’t necessary.

Hiccup had made the wrong decision.

He should have trusted the riders and told them everything instead of hiding Dagur’s presence to keep from upsetting either Jackson or Heather. They could have handled it and their particular set of skills and insight when it came to Dagur would have been useful. As it was, both of them were upset; Heather had secluded herself away in her hut and Jackson was off somewhere on the island.

He would have to go searching for the Druid later, but not now. Now all he wanted to do was sleep and he would have, if not for Periwinkle’s happy thrills that greeted him which quickly turned into harrowing chimes as she sank to his shoulder. Her little head glancing behind him and her chimes becoming louder when all she found was Toothless. The Night Fury’s ear-plates perked up as he cooed to the little fae.

Periwinkle thrilled as she pointed up. Toothless, more alert than a moment ago when the exhausted dragon was shuffling after his rider, quickly clamored up to the loft, making a ruckus on his way. Hiccup didn’t have any time to scold the dragon before he was back with something in his mouth. The Viking barely caught the scroll Toothless shoved into his stomach and fumbled with it, causing it to unroll.

Vivid green eyes blinked when he caught sight of the familiar scrawls and unfurled the letter, drinking in the message. With each passing words, he felt colder, blood draining from his face, as his fingers began to tremble.

“No. No, he did not, he couldn’t. Toothless!” the dragon was already at his side, and Hiccup was barely in the saddle before the Night Fury was bounding out the door. His gears shifting only after he’d leapt into the air as they hurtled through the stormy sky.

It would take hours before they reached Viggo’s shipyard, or at least what was left of it. Hours that Hiccup spent clutching Jackson’s letter, his words burned into the auburn-haired Vikings mind, and even though they reached the shipyard in record time, he was too late. Jackson wasn’t there.

---

Muhahaha! This, this was my plan all along for Dagur in the original outline of Soul of a Druid but got pushed further and further back until I thought I was going to have to scrap the idea. But now it is cannon for HoaDS. Thank you Fab for forcing me to write this.

#Heart of a Dragon's Soul #HoaDS #Hiccup Haddock #Jackson Overland #SilverlySilence's Fanfics #Fanfic

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megalony · 4 years

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My bad side- Part 5

Here is the latest part of my dad! murderer! Ben series which I hope you are all enjoying so far, thank you for the lovely feedback.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have four boys together who love and dote on him, despite his antics and ruthless ways. But no one wants to get on Ben’s bad side, especially not the neighbours.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turning her head, (Y/n) tried to control the way her limbs were shaking from the rage coursing through her like venom pumping through her veins. Her lips pursed, hiding the way that her teeth rubbed against one another causing her jaw to click.

"Hey sweetheart, you okay? Where are the boys?" Ben's voice sent shivers down her spine but the tone of innocence made a wave of frustration wash over (Y/n) completely. She felt his words tickling the skin of her neck and his arms wrapping around her middle but the moment they were around her like vines, she reached down and broke his arms free from her frame. Either he knew what he'd done and he was trying to play innocent and kiss his way out of this, or he genuinely didn't know. (Y/n) didn't know which was worse.

"Get off me."

Confusion swept over Ben's features as his arms momentarily recoiled at his sides, his mind trying to figure out what he'd done to earn this kind of response when he'd only just walked through the door one minute ago.

"What's wrong? What have I done?" Ben held his hands up as a sign of surrender but it only made (Y/n) feel worse. He genuinely didn't know what had gone on today, this was hardly ever the case. Ben always knew when he'd done something wrong because he was always bound to do something.

(Y/n) had a hard time processing Ben's work at first because he had no problems with being a murderer and raising a family with him was never going to be easy. But he swore to her from the moment Theo was born that work would never be brought home. There had been one or two times work mixed with home but he always rectified it and made sure home stayed as separate from work as he could possibly manage.

When Ben's fingers curled around her wrist, (Y/n) flung her hand back and wrenched her wrist free from his grip and continued to walk in the opposite direction of her husband who simply followed in suit. The more steps she took away from him, the quicker his stride became to keep up with her and the higher his temper started to rise.

"Would you stop walking away from me and tell me what the fuck I've done?" Ben followed her into the living room, trying again to reach out for her but (Y/n) wasn't having any of it.

"I don't know what you've done but I'm guessing you're bloody gun was involved. Who have you killed this time, or do you not even know?" (Y/n) finally spun round on her heels to look at him and the way his eyes darkened and the emotions seemed to overflow into his pupils made her stomach churn. Ben never got physical with (Y/n) no matter how angry they could get at one another.

He could grab her a bit too roughly and cause some bruising, he may push her here and there but his damaged fists never touched her in the wrong way. Ben made a point never to hurt (Y/n) because it was against his morals, the worst he would do was handle her roughly or put fright into her with the cruel words he could spit or the tone and volume he used in arguments. With the boys it was different, especially with Theo. If Theo stepped out of line or did something horrible Ben may hit him or handle him very roughly but it was the way he parented and he never hurt the boys badly, a slap was normally all it was.

"Do you actually want me to answer that because the last time I told you about that shit you almost kicked me out of my own house." Ben's hands moved to rest bruisingly on his hips as his knee bent forward like he was angrily posing or rearing for a fight which he seemed like he was right now.

(Y/n) pressed her lips together so tightly her blood circulation was almost cut off as her nails dug into her palms. How dare he be sarcastic right now and give her that look as if this was all her fault or like killing someone wasn't a bad thing or was a normal sort of work. (Y/n) knew the kind of work Ben got up to but she didn't want details, the information Ben knew could put her in danger or make it hard for (Y/n) if the police ever got involved, she had to be oblivious to his work other than knowing the outlines of what he did for a living. Now they had the boys (Y/n) definitely didn't want to know the ins and outs of his dodgy dealings and criminal activities.

"This is the last time I'm gonna ask you, what do you think I've done? If you're gonna act like this without even talking to me then I'm going." When Ben told (Y/n) about what he'd done last time he thought she was going to faint or try and hurt him. She'd gotten into a state because what he'd done was something she didn't think he had been capable of so Ben left to let her calm down.

He wasn't having an argument this time because their arguments could get heated and he wasn't letting (Y/n) get upset or a raised blood pressure right now with the baby on the way.

"Daddy-"

"Rowan not now get upstairs." Ben pointed at the doorway and clicked his fingers to signal for him to leave the room he had just walked into, not even turning his head to look at his boy. The six year old stood in shock, wondering how Ben knew which twin it was without even having to look at him but he didn't dwell on it too much. His eyes darted to (Y/n) before he turned and scuttled out of the room, his footsteps heard as he bounded up the stairs. He didn't want to be around if Ben's temper was going to make an appearance.

"Ben don't talk to him like that!" (Y/n) snapped, moving her hand to press to her forehead as her expression fell. Rowan feared Ben in the way he wanted him to even when he had done absolutely nothing wrong, talking to him like that would put the little boy into shock.

"Don't change the subject he's fine. Why does it matter so much what I've got up to at work this time? Any time I bring up the club you switch off."

"It matters because Theo had his social worker round today- who by the way, you were meant to be home to see. And just as she was in the middle of giving me a lecture, the fucking police turned up looking for you!" Reaching out for one of the games consoles on the sofa, (Y/n) picked it up and launched it Ben's way. A look of annoyance and utter frustration took over her face when Ben caught the console with ease when she wanted it to hit him to show him how angry she was.

His eyes bubbled over with anger as he caught the console narrowly in both hands before it whacked into his jaw. The muscles around his jaw tightened and his arms tensed as he threw the console which bashed into the radiator and let an awful vibrating energy wave through the air.

"Don't start throwing shit at me (Y/n)! You know what I do you've been fine with this for over ten years so don't act all innocent now." Ben walked closer to (Y/n) but when he pointed his finger at her she batted his hand away and took another step back. If she threw things at Ben it would rile him up to the point he'd end up grabbing her or walking away because he really couldn't let himself hurt her when she was six months pregnant.

"Don't turn this around you jackass, I'm not pissed you used that gun because we both know you'd never stop if I asked you to. I'm fuming that the police came round when all our children were here and the social worker was around. The bitch heard them asking about you and the club, they knew something and it was scaring the twins. The social worker is gonna be coming round again and she wants to talk to you because she thinks something's going on at home and Theo's acting out or acting in your footsteps!"

(Y/n) bashed her fists into Ben's chest until he gripped her wrists very tightly and pulled her arms against his chest to get her to stop.

"You promised me the police wouldn't come round here for you but they did and all the boys saw. Now the school is going to think you're a bastard who abuses his family and Theo's taking after you and he probably does have your mean streak in his genes."

(Y/n) felt a jolt running through her when one of Ben's hands let go of her wrists so he could grip her chin in his hand. The thought of Theo taking after Ben made both their hearts jump into their throats because neither of them wanted that. Ben didn't always like the way he was but he would never change, but he didn't want Theo taking after his bad footsteps in the way of killing people or even threatening them. He didn't even want Theo getting into boxing and the thought of a bad streak running through any of his boys made Ben shiver in fright.

"Sit down and calm down." Ben's words were seething and his eyes were on fire as he turned (Y/n) to the side before pushing her to sit down on the sofa. This was their fourth pregnancy, they'd had rows and very heated arguments when (Y/n) was pregnant but one time it hadn't ended well at all and Ben wasn't having a repeat of that.

When (Y/n) sat down, Ben took a step away from the sofa before he started raking his fingers through his hair. The police hadn't come down to the club to find him so it wasn't as if they had any concrete proof he was the one who'd killed someone. And they clearly didn't think he was deeply involved if they hadn't come back to find him or searched round the clock for him. This might not even be to do with the person he had killed, it could be to do with a few dealings he'd done at work. It didn't seem serious so this wasn't a reason to panic, at least not yet.

"Whatever the police came round for, it wasn't because of who got murdered or they'd have gone to the club and arrested me already. It'll be something from the club, don't worry about it, I'll sort it."

(Y/n) felt the need to scoff at his words but she held back, not wanting his anger to rise any more than this. He'd better get it fixed, (Y/n) wasn't having the police come round again and they really didn't need anymore trouble happening with the social worker who seemed dead set against them already.

"You'd better sort it." (Y/n) responded grimly, biting down on her lip before she turned her head to the side, looking away from him.

"What did the social worker say?"

"Nothing useful. We've got to work on Theo's anger issues which he probably gets from you, it's probably best you didn't see her today after all." (Y/n) rubbed at her forehead before she pushed herself to her feet and headed out of the room. Her frame shivering when she heard Ben's footsteps following after her, hitting against the wooden panels harder than normal meaning he was far from happy or calm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ben followed (Y/n) up the stairs, his hand griping the banister so tightly he could almost feel splinters prickling against his palm.

"It means that if she met you today she would see where Theo gets his temper from and you'd most certainly say something you shouldn't to her." (Y/n) didn't bother to turn around to look at Ben when she spoke, she simply headed up the stairs and made her way over to Beckett's room to see if the toddler was awake from his nap or not.

"You make me sound like some cruel bastard who doesn't give a shit about his kids."

Before (Y/n) had the chance to open Beckett's door Ben had taken her hand and pulled her into their room instead because this conversation wasn't over yet and it most certainly would be if Beckett was awake and wanted their attention.

"You know that's not what I'm saying, I'm simply stating that if you talked to her you would either seem uninterested or very pissed off at her and you'd end up kicking her out. Don't you remember Theo's last parents evening?" (Y/n) tilted her head to the side, her tone a lot calmer than before and her eyes showed she didn't want to argue anymore.

The last parents evening they had gone to, Ben had looked very unimpressed and rather bored at being there. When it was brought up about Theo's rising temper Ben had said they were sorting it and it wasn't a problem and he clearly put the teacher in her place in a merciless kind of tone. Ben was a good dad, he just wasn't the best when it came to other people trying to tell him how to parent his kids or getting in his way. Ben had his methods and parented how he wanted, he didn't take kindly to people trying to get involved and he didn't like bothering with meetings or school talk, he didn't have the time or the capacity to sit and listen to any of it.

"Yeah, I probably would because we don't need her hassling us and hanging around, Theo's a little shit at times but I'll snap him out of it. Look, I'm gonna sort everything with the police and the club, they won't be coming around again I swear. Can we forget all this now, please?"

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes sceptically but when Ben advanced on her and cupped her face in his hands, a smirk pulled at his lips before his lips smothered her own. (Y/n) couldn't fight off the smile that pulled at her lips as she just knew this would happen. Whenever he'd had enough of arguing or was trying to get (Y/n) to stop being mad at him, Ben turned to affection and sweet talking her to try and rectify things. It was a cheeky habit but it was one that almost always worked and they both knew it.

"You're lucky you're charming." (Y/n) muttered quietly when Ben's hands moved from her face to her hips but she broke free from his intoxicating grip when Beckett's whines could be heard.

"I've got him, you go see what Rowan wanted earlier." Ben mumbled, pecking her lips again before he left the room to go and see to Beckett. They both knew Beckett was attached to Ben at the hip and Ben hadn't seen him all day.

Heading into the smaller room, Ben's lips curved into a smile when he locked his eyes on Beckett who was standing up in his crib, gripping the side of the crib that he was desperately trying to see over. The moment his baby blue eyes locked on Ben's form, the whines ceased from his lips and a grin took over his features. An excited gasp elicited from his lips and he moved his arms out to reach for Ben who quickly leaned down to scoop him up.

"Come here mister, did you miss me?"

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #dad! ben #imagine #BoRhap #murderer! ben #my bad side

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deadlysansa · 4 years

Note

Your prompt is: it’s Christmas season and I’m pulling out my fake Christmas tree only to find a giant ass spider living in it, I scream, and you (my flat neighbor) come running to my rescue

Thank you for the prompt! It was a challenge writing Christmas going into a crazy hot weekend but an attempt was made lmfao. Nobody proofed this for me I’m just trying to distract myself from the world like everyone else atm! I hope you can enjoy

Read on AO3.

Christmas in Flip Flops

James loved Christmas. He was a straight up Christmas fiend.

That being said, he didn’t own many Christmas decorations. Every year, he packed his bags and drove to his parents’ house for the holidays with his childhood friend Marlene in tow. It was a lot nicer than his one bedroom flat in central London where she often crashed on the sofa.

“ Ow, shit, shit, shit, shit,” James groaned to himself as a pile of junk slid off the shelf and into his shoulder.

It was 6.30pm on a Saturday night two weeks before Christmas and he was standing fully in his small storage cupboard which had become a bit of a dumping ground. Unfortunately, it was also the home to his forgotten plastic Christmas tree, so here he was, pulling it from the wreckage.

James had been renting alone for two years now, ever since his two best mates had fallen madly in love and decided James was definitely cramping their romantic bliss. That didn’t stop Sirius and Remus from demanding he host a Christmas party at his place and advising he ‘spruce it up a little’. They claimed it was because James lived closest to their favourite pubs, but he had a sneaking suspicion they were dying to get a look at the neighbour that he had maybe, possibly mentioned a couple of times since she’d moved in six months and twelve days ago. He’d also told them about her boyfriend and the heated argument four months and twenty-three days ago which turned him into an ex-boyfriend. It didn’t matter. His mates had had enough of hearing about how Lily Evans in Flat 5A was making it quite clear she wasn’t ready to move on.

Thoughts of a certain intoxicating redhead who liked to hang out in her doorway sipping coffee and rolling her eyes at him made him distracted enough to be almost taken out by an old baseball bat making a break from the top shelf.

James’ hands finally landed upon the box in which the tree was kept and tugged it free of the dusty confines of the cupboard. Grinning at his success, James carried the tree to his small living area. He hoped it looked better than he remembered, because he only had a few strings of tinsel and the sprig of mistletoe he’d hung above his head which looked slightly pathetic. James pulled a face at the hanging berries. At Christmases gone by, he didn’t even need mistletoe for a cheeky snog but now he’d turned into someone who lingered in the lobby of his building if he knew Lily was due home.

His saving grace for this party might have to be the festive cocktails he’d made (and sampled) earlier. James’ version of a cocktail was actually a catastrophic mixing of any alcohol he had on the shelf, but fuck it, it was red.

“Hey, Mr Flitwick, how are you?”

He heard the familiar melodic voice in the hall thanks to the criminally thin walls and James stopped his assault on the cardboard box. He looked up at his closed front door, as though he could see Lily on the other side rooting through her bag for her keys. Every single day without fail, she took two minutes to find them. Every single day, James wondered how much crap she had in her bag and whether she was over her stupid ex yet.

He heard a door click close and with a sigh James turned back to the tree. Maybe he should have invited her tonight, but he’d stopped asking when she turned down his first ten invitations to the pub. Even he didn’t fancy being snubbed at Christmas.

Freeing the tree, James saw that it did look very sad and —

“AAGH! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” James shouted as a giant black house spider darted from its hiding place in his ugly fake Christmas tree. Leaping onto the couch, he was horrified to see the spider scuttle in the same direction.

“NOT TODAY, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” He was practically screaming at the eight legged nightmare, not aware of how loud he was being or at how he looked as a 25 year old man fleeing from a glorified bug.

James lobbed a cushion and shouted again, as though a spider could be yelled into submission. He didn’t notice the door bang open and Lily Evans flying into his flat with the determination of an FBI agent in pursuit, flip flop poised, until she was two feet away from him.

She skidded to a stop, breathing heavily. James was frozen, fear completely forgotten as he stared at Lily in his flat. She had never even crossed the doormat.

A frown was forming on her face, “What the hell , Potter?” She stared at the spider, now still on the carpet. “Are you screaming at this spider?”

James composed himself, hand instantly going to his hair, realising it would be tricky to jump down from the sofa with any shred of masculine dignity.

“Um, no?” James replied lamely.

Lily looked up at him, smirking now. “You were.” Laughing, she dropped the hand holding her flip flop. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Bertha in 4C that tough guy James Potter nearly cried over a spider.”

She was practically gleeful, and James had to work hard not to just pull her up for a kiss. The only thing that stopped him confessing how much he liked her every time he opened his mouth was his emotionally buffering confidence. James refused to let his embarrassment show, and zoned in on the shoe she held.

“All right, Evans, easy on the tears talk,” James protested. “Were you planning on defending my honour with a flip flop?”

Face turning pink, Lily hid it behind her back. “Oh, shut it.”

“Tell me, what are the statistics on flip flops and self defence?” He teased, spurred on by her blush.

Scowling, Lily picked up a nearby glass and trapped the spider where it was with a pointed slam. Oh, shit. His dream woman.

Stepping off the couch, James grinned down at her.

“Thanks for saving me.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re the one in my flat, Evans.”

“Your door was unlocked! Which I’ve told you a million times is crazy, by the way.”

“I leave it unlocked in the hope you’ll come barging in armed with a flip flop,” He said with a mocking seriousness.

It was at that moment he realised he was standing very close to her, and she smelled so bloody nice and looked unnervingly good in a thick knitted jumper bearing Santa’s face and soft blue jeans.

Lily’s mouth twitched then, “Is that right?”

“You never come over when I’ve asked you, I figured I’d trick you into rescuing me,” He answered smoothly, not being able to conceal a smile at their awareness of his bullshit.

Lily’s emerald eyes glittered with mirth until she looked up and suddenly leapt away from James like she’d been electrocuted. He missed her instantly and she was a metre away. ‘In trouble’ was an understatement.

“Sorry,” She mumbled, tucking her hair behind both ears. “Mistletoe.” Lily pointed a delicate finger toward the ceiling. James followed her gaze and tried not to let his heart sink all the way down to his knees.

He raised his brows, “Sorry? It’s just mistletoe.”

“How’s Marlene?” Lily asked abruptly. Seemingly unable to meet his eye all of a sudden, she stared at the trapped spider that James was diligently ignoring.

Now the poster boy for bafflement, he shrugged, “She’s fine,” James said quickly. “Are you friends?”

Lily’s face was turning steadily pink and she laughed nervously, “Not really. Don’t worry, I’m not spying on you for your girlfriend or anything.”

The sentence was so funny to James that he burst out laughing. He didn’t know why Lily looked so scandalised, it was a good joke.

Lily’s embarrassment was morphing into annoyance and she folded her arms, “Why are you laughing?”

That’s when it hit him. His laughter died and he fixed her with an incredulous stare.

“Do you think Marlene is my girlfriend? Marlene?”

Lily’s eyes flickered, “It’s a very logical assumption to make. She always sleeps here! She goes to your parents’ house with you!” .

James guffawed, his mind racing to wrap around this new predicament. “Yeah, we grew up together! Mar’s parents live next door to mine. She sleeps on the couch after a night out so she doesn’t have to drive home.”

Lily opened her mouth to retort, but the truth struck her and she closed it.

“Oh,” She bit her lip and James took a measured breath. She was relieved. He couldn’t believe he was about to ask what he did until he heard the words.

“Wait, does my relationship status… matter to you?”

Lily covered her face with both hands. “Shut up, 5B,” she said through her fingers, voice muffled.

James grinned, gently prizing her hands apart. Her skin was warm and soft as he slowly slid his fingers between hers, giving her the option to pull free.

“I asked you out multiple times. You should have said yes,” James said, not caring that his voice sounded practically yearning.

Lily watched their interlocked fingers, “I thought you were in a relationship and felt sorry for me for being freshly single in a new area.”

James huffed a laugh, “I definitely did not feel bad. Evans, I’m ashamed to say I was bloody ecstatic when you got dumped.”

Emerald eyes finally met his in indignation, “Hey! I dumped him .” Lily chewed her tongue. “It was over as soon as I realised I fancied my neighbour more than my boyfriend.”

James’ grin was now positively shit-eating but he didn’t care. Lily Evans fancied him - apparently, she had for a while. His gorgeous, mad, funny neighbour who yelled when his shoelaces were undone in the post room and ran to defend him when he screamed like a child at a spider.

James stepped into her space so that the tip of their shoes were aligned. Lily inhaled swiftly, her mouth dropping open before she bit the inside of her cheek.

“James, why do you think I stand in front of my door so long everyday when I get home?”

James smirked, so close now that their shallow breaths mingled, “You can never find your keys in that giant bag.”

“I keep my keys in my pocket,” Lily said simply, gaze flickering to his lips in a way that made his blood hum. “I just mess around in case I catch you coming in or out. All so I could share thirty seconds with you.”

“Well, next time you want to mess around,” James said in low voice, tightening their linked fingers to pull her tantalisingly closer. “You can come straight to me.”

She smiled softly, her eyelids almost closed in a dreamlike state, “Only if you lock that bloody front door.”

Unable to resist any longer, James bent down to catch Lily’s lips with his own and she responded in kind, surging upwards into him with an urgency he could only have dreamed of. Unlocking their hands, she plunged hers into his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way that made him groan, and he wrapped both strong arms around her waist so she was lifted off the ground.

This was bliss. Happy fucking Christmas.

Suddenly, Lily pulled back just a fraction.

“James,” She whispered, her breath skating over his mouth. “I just kicked over the spider glass.”

Right, the spider that had wingmanned him here . He was still absolutely terrified of the thing.

James tightened his grip around Lily and pressed his forehead to hers, “Get the flip flop.”

#jily #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #prompt #challenge #ao3 #hp fic #marauders

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