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critical-ramblings · 5 years

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First Impressions

I was at Mac’s for a drink. Putting my life back together after being legally and literally dead for a year was hard work, and I deserved a break even at...I glanced up at the old wind-up clock Mac kept on the mantle. Eleven o’clock in the morning. I was here for a break, and because someone had been following me for the past few hours. Mac’s bar was Accorded neutral ground, and though I hadn’t gotten a great look at my trackers, I had snuck enough glances in the rearview mirror to know that they weren’t Formorians. Or agents of Faerie. Really, the list of people who might want me dead was getting too long for me to keep up with. They’d either follow me onto neutral ground, where we could have a nice chat about their employers, or they’d try to jump me just outside the doors. In which case things might get messy, and I’d owe Mac a few bucks. Money meant a lot less than it used to, now that the Winter Court was footing the bill.

They followed me in. One of them was a wizard, I was certain of it. It was the only reason I’d picked up on the tail in the first place, which said something about their mortal sneaking skills. But this guy clearly had no idea how strong his aura was, or how it warped into unpleasant mirage-feeling at the edges. This was somebody who, if they weren’t a warlock already, had at least started dabbling with black magic.

I went up to the bar and ordered three beers, on the grounds that a polite conversation would be a lot easier to handle if I had a small chuckable distraction ready to hand. Mac grunted once for both ‘hello’ and ‘you got it’ before giving a long, pointed look over my shoulder back towards the door.

“Yeah, I know,” I said as he put the bottles on the bar. “I’m hoping they’ll come quietly.”

Mac didn’t even dignify that with a grunt, just raised an eyebrow as mirage-dude and his buddy walked up.

“Are you Harry Dresden?” The woman was in her early twenties, darkly tanned, with a dancer’s build and a practiced don’t-fuck-with-me expression. She did have the faint aura of an untrained practitioner, but it was overwhelmed from a distance by the walking inferno next to her.

He didn’t look like much, but most warlocks didn’t. A skinny white guy with shoulder-length red hair that needed to be washed about a month ago, wearing a calf-length aviator’s coat covered with a similar layer of grime.

“Who wants to know?” I asked, taking a sip of beer. If I did have to waste it Molotov-cocktailing my way out of here, I didn’t want to waste all of it.

“Uh, I’m. Traci.” The woman grimaced like she regretted the fake name choice, which sucked for her, because that was definitely what I was always going to call her now. “And this is...”

“Phillip.”

“We want to hire you,” the woman said. She still had her arms crossed, looking less hopeful and more desperate. “You’re still a PI, right?”

“Technically my license expired when I was busy being dead,” I said, but my mind was kicking into a higher gear. This was not exactly how I’d expected the ‘conversation to go.

“We are missing a friend,” the man said in a sandpaper-rough German accent. He studiously avoided looking at me, or even in my direction. My suspicions crept up another notch; I took another drink. Then I pointed at the other two open bottles and jerked my head towards one of the haphazardly placed tables. Mac’s place was built with grumpy wizards in mind--specifically, dispelling magical buildup to stop said grumpy wizards from accidentally setting off an explosion (on-purpose explosions cost extra). Thirteen tables had been placed at unaligned intervals amidst thirteen pillars and thirteen ceiling fans I always managed to whack with my head. It had the added benefit of wearing away at passive magics the longer you were in here, like waves breaking down stones. Just in the time it took for the Dynamic Duo to gather their drinks and get over here, I could sense the guy’s veil starting to fade. It was pretty solid veil by my standards, though nothing like the stunts Molly could pull. And as it wore down I could feel the tug of ‘don’t look at me, I’m not important fading as well.

“Let me get this straight,” I said, as they each took a seat. I’d stolen the one with the best view of the door, but I noted that neither of them sat with their backs to it entirely. “You, whoever you two are, heard about a professional wizard. Who’d been dead for a year. You decide the best course of action, upon discovering that said wizard was not as dead as some people had devoutly hoped, was to follow him around until he...what?”

“Until he walked into a bar, apparently,” Phillip the German said. His sarcasm was so dry you could have poured in most of Lake Michigan.

“And here I thought your people didn’t have a sense of humor,” I said, too brightly. “Fact of the matter is, I can’t help you. I’ve got...other responsibilities now.”

“We know about that, a little,” Traci put her arms on the table, leaning forward and losing just a hint of her prickly exterior. “We’ve got some experience with that kind of problem. But it’s not important right now.” She waved a hand dismissively at her companion, who looked like he was about to object. “You work for the faeries, don’t you?”

“And you should never tell them that to their face,” I said. This was getting curiouser and curiouser. Who the fuck were these people?

“Sure, I knew that.” Traci shrugged.

“Our friend Nott is a goblin,” the German said, a little too loudly. He shot a Look at his buddy that wasn’t quite a glare, which she also shrugged off. “We think she is trapped somewhere in the Verlorenenzeitstelle.”

“In the what?”

He scowled at me, forgetting to be afraid, and for a second I felt his tattered veil slip away. It didn’t strengthen his aura much, but the mirage-like patterns expanded and twisted in ways that were starting to make me nauseous even without using my Sight. The Mantle surged within me, sensing a threat, and the air around the table dropped several degrees.

He muttered something in a language that definitely wasn’t German, and wrapped another veil around himself. But I knew what was there now, and it wasn’t going to go away. Herr Schulz was a warlock, no question. As a Warden, it was my duty to smash him over the head and bring him to the White Council. And from the way Mr. Bad News was shrinking back in his chair, he knew it.

“Hey.” The woman snapped her fingers at me, which did successfully transfer my glare from him to her. “We came to you because you have a reputation for helping people,” she said, more gravely than before. “Nott went into Faerie, and she hasn’t come back. She’s a goblin, yeah, but she’s our friend and we can’t help her. We’ve got...” she paused to dig around in her pockets for a few seconds, during which the German closed his eyes and started to pray. Finally she pulled out a sizable wad of cash and put it on the table. Mostly tens and twenties, as far as I could tell. Maybe a thousand bucks, tops. For a second or two the old calculations of rent and bills and groceries ran through my head before stuttering to a stop. I was still living in Molly’s svartalf apartment while I looked for a place of my own and she was off in Antarctica or wherever Mab had sent her this week. Sarissa had given me access to the bank accounts of the Winter Knight, which had allowed Lloyd Slate to live a rich, decadent and demented life. I remembered again the look on his face right before I stabbed him, then shoved those thoughts aside.

Then I looked at the warlock, and I wondered what exactly the Council would do if I showed up outside Edinburgh with someone like him in tow. I honestly couldn’t tell if I’d be tried alongside him, though damned if I knew what the charges would be.

I pushed the money back towards her, wondering just how much I was going to regret this. ”I’ll do it,” I said. “If he looks me in the eyes right now.”

Phillip stopped picking at an imperfection in his beer bottle and clenched both hands into fists. I leaned forward a little with one arm on the table, mostly to hide the fact that I had my blasting rod ready in my other hand. Offering a soulgaze was risky on both sides, honestly. If this guy was as fucked up as he seemed, I could end up with some nasty psychic blowback while his friend went to town on the rest of me. And he couldn’t be eager to see what was behind MY eyes either, from the way his shoulders were up around his ears.

“What?” Traci asked, glancing between us. She’d been on the defensive for this whole conversation, but she didn’t know what was up now? Her warlock buddy must not have told her very much. “C--Phillip, if you don’t–”

“It is fine,” Herr Commandant said, though the way he was hyperventilating made it clear that it wasn’t. Jeez, this guy was wound tighter than a trampoline spring. And God help whoever was there when he snapped. It was that last thought that steadied me when he raised his eyes to mine. If this guy couldn’t be helped (and odds weren’t that great that he could) better that I take some damage than an innocent--or, more likely, a whole bunch of innocent bystanders--got killed in gory and extremely unpleasant ways.

On that cheerful note, I was pulled into the soulgaze. At first, it was about as bad as I’d expected, which was to say: very. I was surrounded by fire and screaming, the air choked with gray smoke. I was wading through blood up to my shins, passing bodies whose faces I couldn’t see through the firestorm.

And then, just as I was about to wrench myself out of that particular hellscape, I was in a room. A library, or a study, so quiet that I had to pop my ears to get rid of the pressure. Along the wall to my right, an elaborate chemistry setup sprawled across several work benches. On the left, dark wood bookshelves and boxes full of components were crammed full to bursting. Stars gleamed through a window on the opposite wall, shining impossibly bright light on a desk, a chair, and the man sitting in it. He didn’t look up from the book he was reading, but the big orange cat on his lap did. The cat blinked, and for a moment his eyes shimmered the same startling blue as the German’s. When it spoke I just about jumped out of my skin.

“Don’t you dare disturb him,” the cat said. Phillip raised a hand to scratch at his head, a tribute the cat happily accepted. The thing could easily have rivaled Mister for size, though it otherwise resembled a lean American Shorthair with some hint of stripes on its dark orange fur.

Before I could really nail my one-liner (or before I could pick my jaw up off the floor) the gaze ended. I was back at a table in McAnally’s, blinking crud out of my eyes.

The German was still breathing hard, like he’d just finished a race, and his gaze was a little distant, but overall he’d done pretty well with the soulgaze. I’d had one person faint on me, if you can believe it. And no, I don’t know what it is they see when they look at me. I’ve never asked.

“You okay man?” Traci put a careful hand on her buddy’s shoulder. He took a deep breath and turned to nod at her, a strained smile at the corner of his mouth. I wondered what kind of history made a thief and a warlock team up to find a goblin, of all things. And more than that, what made them so obviously care about each other. It may have been because I was looking for signs of hope, but those bonds were definitely a good sign for Phillilp. If he could hang on to them.

“I’ll do it.” I rapped my knuckles on the table for emphasis. “I’ll take the case. Disappeared from where, in the real world?”

“New York. Ja.” The German pulled a whole manila folder out of his bag and slid it over to me. He took another swallow of beer and shuddered. I don’t think it was at the taste.

“Alright.” I glanced through the papers for a second, noting pictures and what was definitely an arrest warrant. “What’s a good number to call? I guess you figured out, my office line is a little busy.” If by ‘busy’ you meant completely defunct. I was lucky they only put out one phone book a year, or my claim to professional wizardry would be gone for good. Well, that day was coming soon enough.

‘Traci’ scribbled a phone number on the front of the folder and pushed it back. The German was already getting to his feet, finishing his beer with a few healthy chugs. “We, uh, we’ll be in touch.”

I nodded back, watching as neither of them completely turned their backs as they walked away. The Winter in me approved, though it was getting a little too excited at the prospect of hunting down and destroying the warlock. “Down boy,” I muttered, and went up to the bar to order a sandwich.

#cr #critical role #dresden files au #harry dresden #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #overarching plot away!

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saralaurensmagalona · 5 years

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STEPBROTHERS part 4

And... Here it is ! No smut yet, sorry ^^;

Once, things were simple. Loki's mom dead, impostors came because of unfaithful father, impostors invaded Loki's mom's rightful place, Loki hated said impostors and traitorous father. Loki planned to leave home. Period. Simple.

And now, it was simply chaos.

Loki had managed to return home, he couldn't remember how, after Thor's... craziness. His dad and Thor's mom were home and chatting happily in front of the TV. Loki retreated to his bedroom, saying he was tired. He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. Thor arrived home very late, making his mother worry. Loki heard her scolding him as if he was still a pre-teen. In other circumstances, Loki would have sneered. Right at that moment, getting out of his room and face Thor was the hardest thing he ever done in his whole life. Loki silently came into the salon. Thor was seated in the sofa, head down, nodding to his mother's reproach. He looked really tired and his usually impeccable appearance was less neat, as if he had been wandering for hours before returning. At Loki's entrance, everybody cooled off. Larry declared that the incident was over and dinner was ready. Fran made a sign that told her son to get up and not to do something like that anymore. Thor took a long, haggard look at Loki as if he was some sort of exotic bird appearing out of thin air. Loki averted his eyes, feeling his cheeks burns and hoping no one would see it. Dinner went on without much incident. Although Loki and Thor remained silent most of the time. As they were still happily chatting about the wedding, neither Larry nor Fran noticed their children's weird quietness...

***

For a few days, the only thing that had changed was the heavy silence between Thor and Loki. Loki didn't know what to think. Thor's reaction had been out of proportions. He had definitely scared Loki to death and Loki was too confused to understand why. Had Thor, by any chance, been infatuated with the girl ? If so, why insisting on Loki's coolness ? And anyway, what Loki was supposed to do now ? Thor was acting weird at school. Instead of his usual confidence and talent, he was distracted. He ate very little and Loki suspected him to sleep very little for he was dozing off in class. Something he would have never done before. Then, three days after the incident, as Loki had seen him leave the house with dark circles under his eyes, he decided for once to follow Thor on his football training. Again, something that would have been totally impossible before. Loki had aboslutely no knowledge of that sport and very little interest in it. A whole bunch of wild boars padded to the head with bars in front of their eyes, grunting, screaming, running blind everywhere, and hitting each other like cavemen was not Loki's idea of entertaining. Yet he understood that Thor was in big trouble. He was at the other edge of the field, head down, shoulders hunched, looking ashamed and defeated. The team coach, his mouth litterally foaming (he was known for having a temper) was yelling at him and waving his hands like a crazy puppet. Loki couldn't hear what Thor might have done wrong but it obviously looked bad. And Thor actually failing in something was simply beyond the impossible. Well, before the incident. Seeing the miserable golden-headed figure, Loki decided to take action. Hoping it was the right thing to do...

***

The parents were out to celebrate the upcoming marriage with a crowd of friends. Manuelita and José were also out since they had relatives visiting. Loki would be alone with Thor for a whole evening. And he expected answers, whatever they would be. He waited, seated in the large cream-leathered sofa, reading a book he could not focus on. Ears perking up at the sound of Thor's car. A rather modest pick-up he had before Fran met Larry and that he had curiously insisted on keeping, although Larry wanted to offer him a brand new (and expensive) sporstcar. Thor came in, looking already exhausted though there was no training that day. Loki saw that this discussion was also necessary for him. He was withering. “Thor...” Thor jumped hearing Loki's voice. – Oi ! You're not asleep ? Loki frowned. It wasn't even past ten. Was Thor taking Loki for a kid ? – Thor... we need... – Not now. Thor was making an exit to his bedroom. Loki went and grabbed his arm. – Oh no, you don't ! We need to talk Thor and you OWE it to me ! Thor lowered his head, looking ashamed again and let himself be seated by Loki like a naughty little boy. – Why didn't you say anything ?” He croaked. “ Why didn' t you tell our parents about... what I've done to you ? Loki sighed. – No idea. And maybe I should have told but you were right in a way. Thor raised his head. – I never look at you. Or at your mother. It's true I used to hate you both so much... Thor made a grimace. – Look, Thor !” Loki pursued. “Put yourself into my shoes just for one second ! My mother was barely dead for one year when YOUR Mom showed up ! And with a son that was much more ...” He gestured, lost for words. “Much more brilliant... more fit to... I don't know....” 'Please my Dad' was what he really wanted to say. But seeing that Thor's miserable look he didn't dare go any further in this uncomfortable subject. – Loki, I told you. I am not blind.” Thor said. “And I know all of this. Or at least I guessed. I just wanted... I just...” He raised his hands. “ I don't know, give you a family ! To be your … brother, to share... my mother with you ! You looked so... So...” Again, Loki saw something weird in Thor's usually dull blue eyes. A gleam that was already there the day he went insane. A gleam so bizarre it made Loki incapable of understanding it. Thor, that Loki had thought so predictable before, had become a true puzzle. – I just want us to be friends Loki. True friends, true... brothers, stepbrothers, I don't care. Loki noticed that he was repeatedly tumbling on the word 'brother.' But the conversation was getting nowhere. – Thor, I need to know why you … snapped or whatever just because I was talking with Trish Feldman... Thor clenched his fist. Loki felt the familiar shiver of fear down his spine. He made an attempt to ease the air between them. – She is not in love with me, Thor ! She's in love with YOU ! She was just trying to get closer to you through me ! Thor then raised his head, now confused. – You see ? She wanted to flirt with me and like this she could get to you !” Loki was trying to explain but the blue eyes in front of him were now totally dull again... “Look, if you're in love with Trish... Out of the blue, Thor slammed the coffe table with his fist. Luckily, it was marble or else he would have broken it. Anyway, it shut Loki up. – I don't care about that girl...” Thor growled. “I don't give a … – Thor ! – I am not in love with HER ! I am in love with... – DON'T !

***

They looked at each other. Loki was breathing hard. Thor looked desperate. He had almost dropped a terrible bomb and Loki had prevented it.

Loki could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He couldn't believe any of what was currently happening. He knew at that precise moment that whoever Thor was in love with, or thought he was in love with, it was going to be BIG trouble for everyone. It was a dreadful weight in Loki's guts almost as bad as the day he had been told his mother had died. Loki REFUSED to hear it. A long silence ensued. Loki wanted to keep acting as if nothing had been discussed and that they could forgive and forget. That they could act as if nothing happened... But Thor, of course, wouldn't comply. – Loki, I... – Don't. – But, I... – I said don't !! Loki rose from the armchair and start doing something he always did when he was stressed out. He was pacing right and left in the room, his fist on his mouth. – I'm sorry ...” Thor said, in his annoying scolded-little-boy tone, “It's not like I've decided it ! It happened like that... First day I saw you...” – Thor, I swear that if you don't shut your trap right now, this is going to get ugly. Loki covered his eyes with his hand and sighed deeply. Something in his attitude must have impressed Thor for this time he actually shut up. This was the fifth dimension, this was a total nightmare. Loki thought about his father, his stepmother-to-be, even about Thor and about everyone that would hear about this scandal from Manuelita to the lowest bully at their school...

The number one honcho, the ultimate johnny football hero, the Almighty Thor was gay. And incestuous. Sort of.

Loki apreciated the irony of the situation. He had the perfect way to ruin the abominable wedding. He could run to his father and cry that he had been molested and create a huge disaster. His instinct told him that he could say anything to make Thor look like a monster and Thor, too ashamed of the truth, wouldn't even defend himself. He could. He actually could. But looking at Thor, so miserable and so vulnerable, he simply couldn't. Loki had to take charge. Thor was too emotional and incapable of acting sensibly. – This is what we are going to do. Thor raised his head. His eyes were reddish but hopeful. – I forgive you for the Trish Feldman incident. But only this one time. There won't be a second chance. – I won't do it again...” Thor replied. “But I don't like it. You shouldn't let me get away with it so easily, Loki... I abused you... Loki breathed heavily. – ' Daddeeeeeee !' ” He mimicked. “ 'Thor was violent with me because he loves me and he's jealous of meeee, Daddeeeeee!' Do you really want me to say that to Larry ?! Thor bend down his head again. – You could. I deserve it. This time, Loki had it with the self-pity. – No. We are not going to ruin anything because you are incapable to control your balls. You are NOT to say anything and neither will I. You have fucked up, Thor ! But, YOU wanted that wedding. SO there is going to be a wedding. PERIOD. And if you play Macho Guy with me again, I'll simply castrate you. Deal ? Thor gave a sad laugh. – I guess it's okay, but...” He looked at Loki right in the eyes with an intensity that almost made Loki turn his head in order to avoid it. “What about me, Loki ? How am I going to get on with it ? Seeing you everyday... Sitting next to you, living next to you... And knowing that you don't care... Loki couldn't help but notice the similes between Trish's unreciprocated love and Thor's. Clichés but sincere clichés, apparently... – I care, Thor...” Seeing Thor's brief gleam of hope in his eyes and crushing it the next second was strangely painful. “ But there is our parents, your future, mine... And I don't really... well...” Thor, for the third time, looked at his shoes. – Don't bother. This is my own problem. I'll deal with it... Why did Thor's resignation was not giving Loki any perverse joy ? Why did his sadness shame him almost ? Loki was not responsible for Thor's feelings and he should have been glad to have found the chink in his perfect armor, the possibility to destroy everything that have been a constant pain to Loki. But no. It was only making things worse. Loki was in a total chaos. Part of him wanted to hurt Thor. Badly. To make him pay for those months of angst. Another part was getting softer. A total mystery. Not something he wanted to ponder over it. His plan was made. Let Thor settle his feelings on his own. – Look, Thor. It is getting late. We'll see each other in the morning. Good night. Loki headed towards the stairs and his room. Curiously, he felt that he had now the upper hand, that he was the one deciding things and that Thor, with his secret, had no option but to obey him. And even more curious was the fact that it gave Loki absolutely no pleasure. He was lost in his thoughts when he felt Thor grabbing his hand. He turned around and he saw another Thor. A Thor with his eyes literally bulging, their blueness almost blinding with something like despair or hope. He was biting his mouth, as if he was trying to say something but the words wouldn't come out. Loki felt the familiar shiver. – Loki, Loki, please... Even the voice was unbearable to Loki. It was the soft pleading voice of someone drowning. Loki hated Thor for forcing him like that. Forcing him to see his pain, his need and this thirst, this bare hunger for Loki's touch displayed like that without, again, any thought for Loki's peace of mind. Loki didn't know what was it that he was the most angry about. The fact that Thor had been pining for him for weeks, months, probably from the moment they met and that he had seen absolutely nothing. The fact that Thor was unable to hide it now and was trying his luck. The fact that he was dumping all of it on Loki. The fact that this possible family would be built on a huge tickling bomb... All of it and possibly even more the fact of Loki's wildly beating heart. Thor was pulling at his hand. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit because Thor's skin seemed to burn. – Loki, I'll do anything... The scariest part in this sentence was that Loki knew Thor was saying the absolute truth. He would do anything... Loki made the most cowardly response he could have, ever. He tore his hand from Thor's and ran away to lock himself in his room.

Loki then began one of many sleepless nights.

#teenage thorki #Smut

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raendown · 6 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama + HashiramaMito Word count: 1963 Summary: Everyone in the world has two soulmates, platonic and romantic. Only your platonic soulmate can find your romantic soulmate for you. Hashirama should have known who Madara was the moment they met. Tobirama did know who Mito was as soon as they met. Everything would be so much easier if they were able to just say something about it to each other but since when does the universe like making things easy?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI

Chapter 2: Of Haunted Houses and Absent Assholes

The fair was just as disgustingly noisy as he had feared it would be. Tobirama wrinkled his nose in irritation when some untamed child went screeching passed him waving a half-eaten stick of cotton candy aloft like a sword. If he ever had children of his own he could only hope they would be better behaved than that.

And better dressed. Whoever came up with rompers clearly didn’t seem to understand how often children need to pee or how messy it could be when they waited too long to do so.

Foot tapping with impatience, he skimmed his gaze over the crowds surrounding him for what felt like the hundredth time. Hashirama was supposed to be meeting him right here beside the ticket booth and a man that tall should have been easy to spot over everyone else’s heads yet there remained no sign of him. Why they even had to take separate cars was still something Tobirama didn’t understand. They lived together! But Hashirama had mumbled some sort of nonsense under his breath about the post office and having an appointment later until Tobirama rolled his eyes and caved. How they got here wasn’t important as long as he managed to get Hashirama and Mito here at the same time.

Speaking of, Tobirama felt his lips quirk up reluctantly when he caught sight of brilliant red hair. Mito stepped out of the crowds looking like an autumn breeze, completely uncaring of the summer heat shining down from above. Her hair swirled around her in elegant curls making the perfect complement to her yellow sundress. She smiled politely when Tobirama waved to her, hurrying over on her little kitten heels. If Hashirama didn’t drop his jaw at the sight of her Tobirama would eat his own socks.

“Good afternoon, Tobirama,” she greeted him, tucking a few stray hairs behind one ear.

“Thank you for being so prompt,” he said. “I only wish I could say the same of my brother, who appears to be running a bit late. I apologize for that.” It wasn’t a great first impression but it was one he hoped Mito would be willing to overlook. Perhaps she was the forgiving sort.

The two of them chatted for a few minutes during which Tobirama deeply regretted his oversight in not wearing sunblock for a day out in the sun. His plan had been to leave the two of them alone once they met and connected but he couldn’t do that if Hashirama didn’t hurry his ass up and get here. Just as Tobirama was starting to think about calling his idiot sibling another familiar voice called his name and he looked around the area with a frown, unable to see who was talking to him.

Madara spilled out of the crowd to one side with his already wild hair made even larger by the humidity in the air, sticking against his skin to highlight the dark scowl he was wearing. The effect was halfway between ‘adorable’ and ‘monster from the black lagoon’.

“Where the fuck is your brother?” the man demanded without preamble. Tobirama shrugged.

“A good question.”

“You don’t know, do you? Useless.” Madara huffed and clawed at his hair, clearly trying to force it in to some semblance of order. His eyes dragged up and down Mito’s form with open suspicion. “Who’s the broad?”

Immediately Tobirama wanted to drop his face in to both hands, Mito bristling at his side. He would have given the man a good solid lecture on why exactly that sort of language was offensive but, as it turned out, it was unnecessary. Mito had a fine voice for putting idiots in their place and Tobirama found himself impressed with the vocal ranges she achieved without ever breaking away from her expression of icy disdain.

He was enjoying the show, though giving some thought for cutting in to suggest they all go look around to see if Hashirama had merely gotten lost, when a rhythmic buzzing in his pocket distracted him. Tobirama pulled out his phone to check only to see several texts sent from the very man they were missing.

Something came up, I’m really sorry! Emergency, I promise! Have fun with Madara! Don’t be mad!

Clenching his phone tighter, Tobirama narrowed his eyes at the screen and all the disgustingly cheerful emojis that followed. That dirty rotten fool! How dare he flake out at the last second when he had been the one this entire outing was meant for! Even worse, none of their little gathering really knew each other all that well yet he could hardly ask Mito to go home after she had come all this way and if they weren’t going to leave then it would be rude to ask Madara to go. Looking back and forth between his two companions told him everything he needed to know about how awkward this was going to be.

With a deep breath and a silent promise for vengeance later, Tobirama cleared his throat and broke in between their healthy little spat.

“It appears that Hashirama will no longer be joining us,” he announced. Madara stared back at him with narrowed eyes.

“What, so I’m supposed to just hang out with you then?”

“Oh my apologies, I had no idea I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Your meaning was clear enough.”

To his amusement, Madara actually stomped one of his feet in anger. “I said nothing of the sort! I just don’t like being blown off like this! Just for that I’m staying! I’ll stick to your side like glue the whole day, see if I don’t!”

Although Tobirama had many things to say to that, his awareness of the rest of the world chose that moment to come back and remind him that they were standing in the middle of a very public area with several other adults within earshot, all of them no doubt laughing at the scene he and Madara were making. It had been fun watching Mito make a scene. Being in the middle of one himself was just embarrassing. With a moody grumble he shoved the tickets meant for Hashirama in to Madara’s hands and turned away towards the rest of the festivities.

Fairs, in his opinion, were for children and young adults on dates. It felt supremely awkward for the three of them to wander around with matching scowls and grunt at each other about which rides they should go on. Amazingly, Madara seemed to agree with him in at least that respect. Both of them favored the haunted house over the Ferris wheel and yet somehow they still ended up piled in to a tiny little booth dangling several meters above the ground.

Mito could be persuasive when she wanted something, apparently.

Tobirama would rather leap to his death from the top of the ride than admit it but by the time they had gone all the way around he realized that he was actually having fun. Once all of them settled down and fell in to calmer conversations their little trio got along surprisingly well. Mito had done many interesting things in her life and Madara had endless tales about his job that Tobirama could listen to for hours. It didn’t hurt either that Madara had a very attractive voice, quite easy to get lost in, though Tobirama didn’t see fit to mention that either. Getting involved with his brother’s best friend didn’t strike him as a great idea.

After the Ferris wheel they went through the Haunted House as a compromise, where Madara jumped at every noise around every corner and Tobirama tripped on something in the dark, sending him careening in to the older man. Mito floated through the entire attraction with a great deal of poise – until they were rather abruptly introduced to her fear of clowns just before the exit and immediately after sworn to secrecy about it. Tobirama tucked that little bit of information in to the back of his mind just in case. One never knew when one might need a bit of insurance for something.

Several attractions and a stop at the food stalls later Tobirama decided he was smug about having such a good time even though Hashirama had abandoned them all so suddenly. Step one of his revenge would be going over the day’s activities in minute detail just to torture his brother with all the fun he had missed. Madara turned out to be better company than he had known and Mito he could see himself becoming great friends with. He had honestly expected nothing but awkward silences and petty bickering for the whole day but as long as he kept himself positioned between his two companions and never let them really get going then they actually got along fairly well.

He wondered if this was what it felt like to have friends. Then he wrinkled his nose at such a soppy thought and shoved it away. Friends were for Hashirama. He much preferred his books and his minions at work, the ones who followed his every command without question.

Okay, with a lot of questions. They weren’t the brightest but they still did what he told them to.

Wobbling away from the Pendulum ride on shaky knees, Madara was the first to give in for the day. He very pointedly ignored Mito’s sneer for having such a weak stomach for the faster rides and instead directed his words to Tobirama, who found himself oddly fixated on the shape of the man’s half smile.

“Kind of glad Hashirama didn’t come and force a bunch of cotton candy down my throat but if you’ll both excuse me I still need to go home and throw up.” Madara glared when Mito hid a smile behind one hand.

“Leave if you must,” Tobirama told him, trying not to sound too interested.

“Tell that idiot brother of yours that he owes me big for flaking out on this.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to get in line.”

They shared a grin and Tobirama thought it might be worth revisiting the idea of them becoming friends, at least. He did his best not to laugh when Madara and Mito sneered at each other challengingly in place of goodbyes. Those two probably weren’t destined to become close in any way.

As soon as Madara was out of sight Mito allowed her shoulders to slump with exhaustion and admitted that she was done for the day as well, she’d just wanted to outlast Madara. Tobirama laughed and waved her off, trading quick promises to get together again sometime before parting ways. The more he got to know her the more excited he was for her to meet with Hashirama and become a part of his family. She was a hundred times better than the many horrible possibilities he’d been picturing all these years, the hyperactive idiots who would match perfectly to his brother but annoy the hell out of him personally. Mito, at least, he could get along with.

Sauntering across the parking lot back to his own car, Tobirama fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his text app to the messages his brother had sent him earlier. He sent a single message in reply and then he put it away again and refused to answer further, easily ignoring the rapid buzzing of several responses. Revenge was easy when he had twenty odd years of experience turning Hashirama’s own excitable personality back on to itself.

Be afraid, brother. Be very afraid.

Tobi? What did I do? Tobi are you angry? Please answer. Why should I be afraid? Hello? TOBI?! TOBI PICK UP THE PHONE WHY SHOULD I BE AFRAID??? L L L

#rae writes #madatobi #hashimito #tobirama #madara #mito #hashirama #fanfiction #almost forgot to post this today...

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hotelsweet · 7 years

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Hey, I had a random idea that could work as a prompt: AU meet-cute (because I'm a sucker for these) - Jake and Amy are seated next to each other on a flight and Amy is super uncomfortable/ close to freaking out (maybe because of her claustrophobia?) and Jake helps her calm down and they spend the rest of the flight talking? I dunno; random idea is random ^^;

I’MHYPERVENTILATIGN This prompt didn’t just… kill me it leapt off my screen andpunched me in the face!! In the best way possible ofcalso I’m lowkey in the mood for thisbc I’m travelling so much over thenext couple weeks!! I loooovvvveeeee it ok I won’t wastetime let’s just jump into it:

It’s ataround 7:18pm, sat in the airport lounge waiting for her flight, that AmySantiago figures out that she is most likely receiving a death glare from thewoman sat opposite because she hasn’tstopped tapping her fingernails against her passport for the last ten minutes.

As soon as this realisation hits her she snaps out of it,immediately feeling the odd hollowness created by the absence of her nervoustick.

It’s nother fault. Flying is and always has been one of her worst fears- thoughnowadays, she’s mostly been able to subduethe anxiety for the sake of adult life, childhood nightmares of falling fromthe sky long behind her, sometimes it simply gets the better of her.

This, by all accounts, would be one of those times.

Her fingers itch to keep tapping. A light sheen of sweatglistens uncomfortably over her forehead. Her stomach churns, nausea pulsatingunder every centimetre of her skin at the thought what’s essentially a large tin can propelling itself throughthe air until she’s back home in New York.

Focused on the huge plane outside the window, she can’t help the feeling of completehelplessness that fills her.

“Will passengers for the American Airlines flight 481 to JFK pleasebegin boarding…”

A cool, calm female voice echoes through the atrium, andeveryone around Amy begins to move, standing up and organising their thingsbefore rushing over to the gate.

Perhaps she stands up too quickly, but a wave of dizzinessslams into her like she’s beenhit by a car.

Despite the collected, sweet voice that instructs her andeveryone around her, she can’t helpthe bitter irritation that brews within her at the thought of this flight. Whenit’s bad, it’s really bad;claustrophobia, social anxiety, the works. A complete tapestry of anxiety.

With a sigh, she picks up her bag and heads towards theboarding gate, waiting patiently in line with everyone else.

Inwardly, as she pats away the sweat on her forehead, sheprays she’s not sitting next to a totalasshole.

***

As luck would have it, she is, in fact, sat next to a totalasshole.

“Hey, Angie?! Could I get,like, a whole bunch more of these nuts? I’m supersnacky.”

Sat up on his seat like a little kid, the man sat next toher, in the window seat, beams toothily at the flight attendant- who, to Amy’s disgust, giggles softly at him witha nod, before heading towards the back of the cabin. He’s tall, dressed in a leather jacket with a hoodieunderneath- like he can’tdecide whether he wants to be an adult or a teenager, she thinks. Annoyancestirs within her at the entire image of him, and only partially because she hasa select and precise loathing for men who speak to female employees as if they’re friends.

Since he’sarrived, squeezing past her into his seat, he’sfiddled loudly with his little TV screen, chatted to the cabin crew like they’re his college buds, and hummed theentirety of what she’sfairly certain was a Coldplay song. She’s neverseen someone so unapologetically cheerful and friendly.

He must catch the side-eye she’sgiving him, because after he’s sathimself back down, his attention keeps coming back to her, looking at heroddly, a combination of interest and confusion in his expression.

She tries to ignore it, the way he’s unabashedly observing her in public, watching her gothrough each of her electronic devices and turn them off. His gaze burns intoher, completely unashamed, until she actually finds herself becomingfrustrated. He must be used to this, being able to look at and speak to whoeverhe wants- he’s pretty good-looking, andclearly a confident guy. Somehow, this only makes her want to scold him more.

“Can I help you?” She asks him sweetly.

“Y’know, you don’t actually need to do that,” he says matter-of-factly, noddingdown at her lap, in which sits her laptop, her phone, and her iPod, all now shutoff or on airplane mode.

“What? Yes, you do,” she says, “otherwise why would they ask you to?”

“Because it’s not actually dangerous, it justmakes an annoying noise over the radar when they’retrying to fly.”

“Well, then,” she says, smiling coolly, “I guess I just have a shred of commoncourtesy.”

He doesn’t replyto this, instead raising his eyebrows indignantly and sitting back in his seat.She glances over at him, just once, to see if he’sreacted- but all that remains on his face is a slight expression of amusement.It’s just on the brink of irritating, asthough her speaking back to him is funny somehow.

Quietly, she opens her bag in her lap, and begins to dig forher Ambien and a bottle of water. Her fingers find the bottle, pulling it outof the bag- but, to her horror, the pills are nowhere in sight.

“No, c’mon…” shemutters to herself as she begins to dig through her bag more urgently.

Annoyance and another dollop of anxiety smacks her gutharshly as she realises she’s aboutto sit here, for six hours, next to this dude,without anything to calm her down. She could always soothe the nerves with somewine, but right now she’drather do anything than bring that flight attendant back to her.

A soft dingsignifies the seatbelt sign coming on for the first time- Amy’s stomach twinges with nerves, eventhough this fits the order of things, the bustle and hubbub of people settlinginto their seats having died down. The little screen in front of her lights upand begins to play a safety video, and several flight attendants file into theaisles to begin their demonstration.

“I’m Jake,” theman next to her says quietly as she watches the hostess in front of them.

She smiles politely at him then looks back towards thehostess. It’s not that he seems genuinelyawful, or anything- even if he has been mildly irritating in the half an houror so they’ve spent together- but shejust could not be in less of a mindset to make a friend; even chatting feels alittle too much of an effort to push her head into right now. Judging by theway he was talking to that attendant, there’s alsothe chance that he’s about to start flirtingwith her, which she really can’t deal with right now. So, as far asshe’s concerned, the best option issilence.

“Okay, I’m sorry for picking on you when youput all of your electronics into airplane mode. I have a reflex where I can’t help but pick on dorky littlethings like that.”

“Are you sure that was anapology?” She narrows her eyes andturns to him. He looks at her candidly, like he’sgenuinely undecided. It’s atthis exact moment that she realises he’sharmless, going from one goofy expression to the next like a teenager.

“I guess I’m a little out of practice,” he admits, a small chuckle risingfrom his throat.

“Right.”

Though she’slooking forward at the air hostess, she allows herself a small smile now, as itbecomes clearer and clearer that, immature as he could be, his main issue as aperson seems to be being overfriendly.

“I’m Amy,” sheoffers.

“Amy,” he repeats, smiling. “Nice tomeet you.” He offers his hand, whichshe shakes firmly. “Good shake,” he comments.

“I’m well-practiced,” shesays proudly. Momentarily, she spots confusion dart over his face, but sheignores it- she doesn’t owehim the wild stories of her handshake seminars, not yet.

“So what’s bringing you to New York?” He asks quietly, after a moment.

“Sorry, I just-” she cuts in over him awkwardly, “I want to listen to this,” she says, looking between him andthe safety demonstration.

“Right,” he says, and she turns back to watch. Only a couple ofseconds pass before he’stalking again. “I can only assume this isyour first ever flight, because there’sliterally no other reason to be that invested in an airline’s safety guidelines.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” shereplies, “but do you ever stop talking?”

“I guess not,” he says, throwing a peanut in theair and catching it in his mouth. “Nut?”

“I’m good.”

“Your loss.” He throws another in the air.

“Oh! You’re not wearing your seatbelt,” she realises out loud, the concernin her tone immediately making her a little self-conscious.

“Oh, right,” he mutters, clicking it into place. “Forgot.”

Forgot? Shewatches him fiddle with it, then go into his hand luggage, pulling out a bottleof Gatorade, from which he takes a hefty swig. She can’t help but feel a little sick at this- it’s 8:30 in the morning, and thethought of any beverage other than coffee is too much for her.

He’sunlike anyone she’s ever met before- adecent-looking man, likely around her age, with the habits and chatter of afive-year-old.

Distracted by him, she almost jumps when the plane’s engines begin to rumble, graspingfirmly onto the arm rests of her seat as they do.

“Woah,” Jake murmurs, and Amy’s notsure whether it’s a genuine reaction or beingsaid in a bid to reassure her somehow. Either way, she doesn’t care. “Y’okay?”

“Yeah, just took me bysurprise a little,” she admits.

“Sir,” that flight hostess’s voicereturns again, directed towards Jake, “if Icould request that you close your tray table.”

“Sure, smort,” he replies hastily, smiling up ather.

“Smort? Very smooth,” Amyjibes as soon as the hostess is out of earshot. He narrows his eyes. “Y’knowshe’s essentially paid to flirt with you, right?”

“For the record, I find itvery hurtful and presumptuous that you’reassuming I’m trying to flirt with her.”

“Please, it’s all you’ve done since you stepped onto this plane.”

“How d’you know that?”

“I don’t, obviously, I just mean… y’know, you’re-” Shestammers, irritated by the small smile this evokes from him.

The plane jumps as something kickstarts in the engine, and,startled, Amy’s grip on the arm reststightens- she looks out of the window, and notices that they’re at the start of the runway. Atonce, both fear and gratitude seeps into her system- fear, in response to thefact that she’s about to be launched 35,000feet into the air, and gratitude in response to the fact that, by some miracle,Jake has kept her distracted from it all for the last ten minutes or so.

“Cabin crew, please take yourseats for takeoff…” A low voice comes throughthe ceiling, raspy as though playing through a radio. Panic strikes into Amy’s chest.

“Talk to me,” she hears herself saying to Jake,before she’s even thought about it. “Please.”

She’sexpecting a joke, a look of confusion, or at least a smartass reply back- butinstead, his nonchalant expression changes immediately into one of concern.

“Sure, sure,” he starts, “Uh. You never said why you’regoing to New York.”

“I’m going home,” shesays quickly, as the plane starts to move. “I livein Brooklyn.”

“Nice,” he replies, “I livein Williamsburg.”

“Hipster-ville,” she says, without hesitation. To hersurprise, he laughs.

“I was about to argue back,but someone opened a cronut store opposite my apartment the other week.”

“A cronut store? As in, just cronuts?”

“Yeah. They’re not even that great. And I’d know- I once ate nothing but pastryfor three days”

There’s apause, and Amy’s eyes find the window, wherethe plane is now picking up speed along the runway. Jake must notice this too,because he tries to pick up conversation again rather hurriedly-

“Roommates?”

“What?”

“D’you have ‘em?” He smiles, in what must be at leastpartial disbelief, at the sudden, high-paced conversation they’re having.

“Yeah, three!”

“Three?!”

“Yeah,” she laughs nervously, “I’m kind of low on cash. I’m training at the Academy right now-I want to be a cop, so I’mcommuting, and training, and working, and… what?” She stops at the only slightly gorgeous grin he’s giving her right now.

“You’re at the Academy?”

“Yeah,” she says slowly.

“No way. I’m a cop! I finished my training acouple years back.”

“Are you kidding?” She asks seriously, completelyunable to picture this man-child in uniform.

He starts to answer, but the plane leaves the ground, andshe can’t help the small gasp thatescapes her.

“It’s okay, don’tworry.” His voice is calm, natural,quiet- just for her. By some miracle, it works, even if only by a little, herbody settling into an out-of-place calmness. “We’re good.”

“Keep talking,” she pleads, only slightlyembarrassed now by her evident vulnerability with this man, a total stranger. Nevertheless,she smiles over at him, thankful for his reassurance.

“Oh, right- so, yeah, I’m working at the 90.”

“Beat cop?”

“Yeah. Hopefully a detectivein a few years.”

“That’s exciting,” shesays, but she’s got her eyes closed, tryingto quell the dizziness caused by the rapid ascent of the plane. He chucklessoftly- she presumes at her attempt to hold a conversation with her eyesclosed- and though normally she’d feela little put out by this, she can’t helpbut laugh along with him.

Of all the things she thought she’d be doing on her flight, feeling her lungs fill withlaughter as she took off was not on the list.

The plane lifts, and lifts, and lifts- and then it doesn’t, gliding through the cloudsseamlessly.

A small dingalerts her to the seatbelt sign, which has just turned off.

“So, you’re not big on flying, huh.”

The remark comes a little while after they’re in the air. She’s breathing slowly- the conversationwith Jake died down a few minutes ago, after the plane became more stable inthe air.

She glances over at him, feeling sarcasm brim in her throat-but his expression is soft, of genuine concern.

“No,” she half-laughs. “I’m not.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s just so…annoying. I know, logically, that I’m fine,but it just creeps up on me, I guess.”

“It happens. Sometimes youjust need a distraction.”

He looks over at her, smiling.

“Right,” she says, meeting his gaze.

A pause lingers between them for just a moment.

“So,” he begins, eventually, cutting the tension. “How’s theAcademy?”

“Intense,” she offers quickly, “but I like it.”

“Some of those old drillsstill haunt me,” he shudders. She laughs,relaxing a little. “What do you want to do?”

“Ideally? Captain of my ownprecinct.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah,” she replies proudly, smiling lowly.

“For the record, youdefinitely seem like a Captain.”

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“You’ve known me for like, half an hour.”

He smiles, but just as his lips part and he begins to speak again,the plane jolts harshly, the first knock of turbulence.

Amy’s handsshoot straight back to the armrests on either side of her chair, one firmlygrabbing Jake’s arm. She lets go quickly,looking over at him apologetically. He looks as though he’s about to start talking again,reassure her- but he gives up, and only smiles.

Nerves spill into her system like electricity.

This time, it’s notthe plane.

***

“Such a good movie,” Jake murmurs as Die Hard’scredits begin to roll in front of them.

His voice is almost too close- after a couple hours ofconversation, spanning from everything from her seven brothers to his absentpilot father to the best cop movies of all time, they’d decided to watch DieHard, Jake’s favourite and bid for thenumber one spot. However, this had meant picking whose screen to use. She’d suggested hers for two reasons: sothat she’d not have to lean againsthim, and so that she’d nothave to lean any closer to the window, and risk seeing that stomach-churningheight outside. So now, as he speaks, he’spractically in her ear.

“Are you… crying?”

“No, duh,” he replies, sitting back, buthis voice has cracked slightly, exposing him. She can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a deeply personal film to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, unable to keep her smileoff her face.

“Hey, you don’t get to tease me about gettingemotional.”

“What? Why?”

“Earlier? When I mentioned theorange soda thing? You freaked out.”

“Putting it in your cereal isobjectively disgusting!”

“Oh god, I shouldn’t have brought this up again.”

“You should not be as fit as you are.”

“I’m fit?” Hegrins.

“Not… I didn’t mean…”

“Kidding.”

She nudges his shoulder and sits back in her seat. Heatrises in her cheeks- she can feel him looking at her even though she’s turned away, and suddenly she’s wishing she’d worn literally anymakeup, or perhaps something more form-flattering than a giant sweater and apair of leggings.

“How’re you feeling?” Heasks after a moment.

“Better,” she says slowly, and she means it-she’s tired, certainly, from the stressof the morning, but otherwise, she’sfeeling pretty good. Plus, she’s madea friend. “How long left?”

“Uh…” He flicks on his screen. “Woah.An hour and a half.”

“Seriously?!” She looks over in amazement. “That’sincredible. Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For keeping me distracted.”

“Oh, right. Don’t worry about it. For the record, it’s been pretty enjoyable.”

She smiles gently. He’s notbad. Not at all.

“Excuse me,” an older voice comes from the seatin front of them. An elderly woman, easily in her seventies or eighties, hasher head poking through the gap between her seat and the one next to her. “Excuse me.”

“Hi,” Amy says slowly, in some disbelief, sharing a brief lookof confusion with Jake. “Can wehelp?”

“It’s just, I’ve beenlistening to the two of you, for the last couple hours,” she admits easily, prompting another shared look betweenJake and Amy. “And I was wondering if Icould ask you something.”

There’s abrief pause as they wait for her to ask- at which point it becomes clear thatshe’s genuinely asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” Jake says, after a second.

“When in the hell are yougoing to ask her out?”

***

As the plane plummets to the ground, swooping so fast Amy’s ears pop, her hand is claspedfirmly over the warm arm of one Jake Peralta, a man she has known for sixhours.

Her eyes are closed, and every thought in her head centres onthe feeling of where she holds him. For the first time in her life, she’s finding her flight’s landing remarkably tolerable.

Eventually, a bump tells her they’re on the ground- then, gradually, bit by bit, they slowdown.

With a deep breath, she begins to completely calm down,opening her eyes and turning to the kind, friendly, attractive man sat next toher- for a moment, she wonders how, today, she got so lucky.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to New York. The current local time is5:30pm…”

“Okay, so I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” she agrees.

They watch each other quietly for a second- then,simultaneously, break out into huge grins, mirroring each other giddily.

“So…”

“See you at eight?”

“Sounds good.”

#lol I loved this prompt thank you #took me ages for some reason???#I've got like 20 prompts in my inbox and I've not done any of em #even tho I really want to #I'm a numb-nut #thank you <3 #asks #prompts #my writing #jake x amy #b99 #b99 fic #theartofdreaming1

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flyinghetfield · 7 years

Text

Chapter 3 is done! Enjoy!

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

2:01

You stare at the red light of your bedside clock as it glares right back and rub your eyes. Tossing to your back you groan loudly, grabbing your pillow and attempt to smother yourself. GO. TO. SLEEP. Your mind is humming with thoughts of what was going to happen tomorrow. The first practice session with Metallica was finally here and you felt like you were 7 with tomorrow being your birthday. Sitting up with a whine, you know you weren’t going to fall back asleep any time soon so you shuffle out to the kitchen. Clicking the coffee grinder on you stretch out your muscles and feel a familiar sensation around your legs. ”I know, I know.” Bending down you pick up the ball of fluff named Zorro and slowly sway him in your arms. Two years ago, you had gone through a phase when watching The Mask of Zorro and had a slight crush on Antonio Banderas which you couldn’t kick. So when your mother had recommended finding a pet when moving into the city so you wouldn’t be lonely, you were immediately attracted to the Black and white cat at the shelter with the oddly shaped Z on top of its butt. Sighing, you let Zorro wander off to his own interest as you silently pray to whoever that in the next life to come back as a cat and pour yourself a coffee. Adding way too much sugar, you avoid all the mess laying about in your lounge and plop yourself into your favourite chair, sitting right next to the window where you could watch the night life of San Francisco. Eric had told you that you were crazy for living so close to the heart of San Francisco with all the noise and the blinding lights outside but you didn’t mind, you had gotten use to the rattle of the tram as it went past and the hollering and hooting of drunkards as they came home from a night out. Zorro once again making his presence known, jumps up onto the window ledge and in a moment of peaceful silence you both watch out the window before he decides to walk off again. It wasn’t until 5 seconds later that you realise he had let of a silent but deadly fart. ”Aw come on man!” Grunting you tug up the window to get some air and grab your favourite blanket from beside you to protect you from the chilly April night. “Fricken cats.” Waiting a moment for the smell to pass, you squint at the clock in the lounge. 2:40. Rubbing your face you reach over and grab the home phone, hitting 1 and wait patiently as the dial hums through the receiver. “Mmm?” Eric’s sleepy voice comes through. ”I can’t sleep.” You hear a deep sigh and for a moment you think he’s hung up on you before his voice comes back through. “Do you want me to come around?” ”No…no you don’t have to come around. I just..” ”Y/N. You wouldn’t ring me up at-” You hear a low growl “-3 in the morning. For nothing. What’s on your mind?” ”…Tomorrow.” You heard a slight sigh. ”Mmm yes the Metallicats.” You roll your eyes and lean your head back, looking at the ceiling. “Freaking out about meeting them?” ”Mhm.” You nod, mindlessly. ”Nothing to worry about, already won over drummer boy, rest will be easy.” ”I don’t know..” ”Look.” His voice is suddenly stronger. “Your going to do fine, You always freak out before something big happens and then nothing overly dramatic does happen plus these guys deal with crazy fans all the time. You will charm the pants off the guys and they will all fall helplessly in love with you alright?” ”I know..I know.. Hey, did you suddenly become my 16 year old self?” You mused, smiling at the idea of Metallica’s pants randomly flying off to your violin skills. ”Mhm and my what dirty thoughts 16 year old you had.” You chuckle at that and then yawn. ”Now close the window.” You begin to ask how he knew but he quickly cuts in “I know its open cause I can hear all the damn noise through the phone.” You shake your head and close the window with a slight bang so he can hear. “Good. Now go to bed, sleeping beauty. We both need it.” ”Ok Prince Eric.” ”Wrong movie, Ariel.” You chuckle and say goodbye. Pouring out the rest of your drink you wander back into your room and cocoon yourself under the covers finally succumbing to sleep.

ERRR ERRR ERRR Slamming your hand down on the clock you spring out of bed, even with only 6 hours of sleep the excitement running through your body made it feel like you had 8. Jumping in the shower, you quickly dress making sure to make your make-up was perfect and that your hair didn’t look like a birds nest. Feeding Zorro, you double check you have grabbed everything and head down to your car. Travelling to the venue you can’t help nervously tapping the steering wheel as the butterflies felt like they are going to explode through your stomach. As you turn on to the street where the building is, you notice the giant Semi trucks parked around the campus and the overwhelming amount of people walking around and carrying in equipment into the theatre. Slowing down you prepare yourself to turn into your usual parking spot but see its taken by a sleek black motorbike. Motherfu- You sigh and park in one of the spots furtherest away, getting out and curse the person who took the spot. Walking inside the flurry of people hadn’t slowed and there was multiple times you had to quickly jump out of the way from people. Feeling like a lost lamb you quickly head down to the kitchen for a breather and hope Eric was already here. As you round the corner to the kitchen door you slam straight into something hard. ”Ow” Rubbing your nose you look up at the man standing in the door and feel your legs wobble slightly. ”Oh shit sorry. Are you alright?” His worried blue eyes look down on you. ”Jason are you hurting people already?” Lars walks over to the door and his eyebrows lift when he sees you. “Y/N! Nice one Jace, hurting the talent before we have even started performing with them yet. You alright?.” You nod, feeling overwhelmed as you can feel both males staring at you. ”Nice to see as well Lars and yeah.. I should be ok.” Jason steps to the side and lets you pass into the kitchen as you go to a small mirror on the wall and check your nose. ”Nothing broken?” Jason appears behind you and you glance at him in the mirror with a small smile. ”Sore and a little red but it should be ok.” Turning around, he smiles and extends his hand out. ”I’m Jason, the bassist for Metallica.” Accepting his handshake, your smile grows. ”I know.” ’You know? You a fan?” Lars leans against the fridge, biting down on a apple. ”You could say that.” ”I’m surprised. I expected a bunch of old people with their noses stuck high in the air but it’s nice to see people our age and also fans in the orchestra.” Jason smiles then sits down at the table in the middle of the room. ”Don’t forget, good looking as well.” Lars winks at you and joins Jason. knowing that your nose wasn’t the only red thing on your face you walk over and grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take a sip. Listening as Jason and Lars ramble on about some of the changes in the songs and can’t help but stare at both of them. You always had extra love for Jason, since all the stories and interviews came out about how the band had put him through some tough love but as you watched both men chat you could see Lars had a soft spot for the guy. I just wish he would grow his hair out again. Hearing you sigh, Lars turns and looks at you. ”We aren’t bothering you are we?” You shake your head. ”No, just thinking.” ’Mm what about?” A sly smile appears on his face and you quickly look down. ”Stop teasing the poor girl Lars.” You throw your head up to see Kirk walking into the room with a smile on his face. Wow. You can’t help but stare as the dark skinned beauty as he comes closer to were you are standing and makes a little motion. “Can I?” ”Oh..s..sorry.” Jumping out the way you two are now standing next to each other, your eyes glued to his face then you they wander down to watch his lean hands as he washes them. He’s perfect! No imperfections anywhere! ”I don’t have something on me do I?” He glances at you then over at the mirror. ’Yeah you got a giant booger up your nose.” Lars laughs when walks over and double checks his nose, turning and flips him off. Hearing a sigh you notice Jason starting to move. ”Where’s the big guy at?” He stands grabbing some of the sheets of paper in front of him ”Out on the stage with Kamen.” Kirk stretchers his fingers and then yawns. ”Alright cool. I’ll see you out there Y/N” Jason smiles and proceeds out of the room. ”Y/N?… Oh yeah Lars mentioned you, he wouldn’t shut up about you when he came back from the recording a few weeks ago.” You blankly blink a few times at kirk. Wait what? Lars snorts getting up and throws his apple core in the bin. ”Hey, I see a young pretty and talented woman, I’m going to mention her once or twice.” You suddenly start to laugh at the idea of Lars talking about you and quickly cover your mouth when both men stare at you. Lars smile grows bigger at the noise. “And such a charming laugh.” Seeing kirk shake his head he mouths to you “Sorry” and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself grinning. ”Come on you, lets get out on the stage. Kamen was asking for you anyway.” Lars runs his hand through his hair and winks at you before walking out with Kirk trailing behind him. Holy shit. You sit down at the table and put your head in your hands. How am I going to survive this ordeal? ”There she is!” Eric bustles into the kitchen with his cello in tow. Taking one glance at you his face becomes serious. “What happened?” ”Hmm?” ”You look all flustered and your head is in your hands.” Sighing you grab a pencil sitting on the table and start to draw circles on a paper in front of you. ”Where do I start? Ran - literally - into Jason” ”The bassist? Wait literally?” You nod and touch your nose. ”He has a hard back.” Eric starts to laugh as you pout back at him “Also met Kirk and oh my he’s so pretty, Eric.” He raises up his eyebrow. “And had lars winked at me, not once but twice.” ”Wow and all of this just happened?” Nodding he whistles. “Should of came in earlier.” ”Tell me about it, Oh and some biker asshole took my carspot as well!” You burst out in frustration. ”Tch. Asshole. I think we have a bike lock somewhere around here that the Uni kids use, want to lock it to a pole?” Loving the idea, you decline. “Yeah, probably don’t want some big mean dude chasing us down and beating us up for our lunch money.” Raising a eyebrow you stare at Eric. “Too specific?” ”Just a little.” He smiles then looks out the door, seeing more people walking off towards the front. “Come on you, Kamen is probably waiting for all of us on the stage.” You whine. ”Do I have to?” ”Just move your cute butt.” You stand, silently swearing at Eric's back at as you two follow the crowd. Walking out on to the stage you first notice the gleam of the silver drum kit sitting proudly in the middle of the stage and notice Lars standing talking to Kamen. Looking towards the bass area you notice Jason getting acquainted with some of the younger guys and can see kirk scaling up and down on his guitar. Trying not to trip over anything you head over towards the strings section and stop behind a tall man, chatting with the, Greg, the harp player. ”Hey can I get past please?” They continue to chat. Annoyed you say it a little louder. ”HEY CAN YOU MOVE PLEASE?” The man turns and suddenly its like the wind is knocked out of you. ”Oh sorry.” James steps to the side and waits for you to pass. You feel a slight shove behind you as Eric pushes you forward. Oh my god. Finding your seat your eyes are glued to the man as he continues to talk with Greg, his shoulder length hair bobbing around ever so often when he laughs or nods. He’s wearing a short white T-Shirt, its sleeves rolled up and you appreciated the dark fitting jeans as they glue to all the correct places on the lower half of his body.

”I’m taking from the way you haven’t stopped staring at the tall guy, that is James?” You nod at Eric’s comment. “Hmm… He’s not too bad looking for the lead singer in a Metal band.” You snort.

Understatement of the year buddy.

You still can’t believe that your in the same room as Metallica, seeing them smile or laugh at something someone has said or watching their concentration appear on their face while wrapping around the music that was before them made you want to pinch yourself so you could check you weren’t dreaming. Eric walks off to his spot in the Cellos and you grab your violin, trying to put the distractions of the guys standing around out of your mind and start to play some of Call of Ktulu. It only takes a few seconds but everything and everyone else drains away as you feel the vibrations of the violin hum next to you and the sweet noise echo through your ears, it was the only true way to make yourself feel calm and it was desperately needed for the moment. After playing for a few minutes, you have the sensation that your being watched and open your eyes to notice out of the corner James staring at you, watching your hand as it moved over the correct notes on the violin. Suddenly feeling brave, you gaze in his direction and feel electric when his blue eyes meet yours. You both hold what seems to be a staring contest for the next few moments before you notice a smirk appear on his lips. Casually, he breaks the gaze and walks over to his chair, grabbing his guitar and starts to strum the opening to Call of Ktulu, playing the exact part you were just playing.

Hoo boy. What a next few days this is going to be.

#Chapter 3 #Mywriting #weee #don't forget newbie writer here #sigh #hOW DOES one explain the beauty of these boys in words #srsly #text #long post

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