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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Safe

Pairing: SBI family x reader (platonic, one shot), BASED OFF FROM CHARACTERS NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE

Warnings: child abuse/neglect, bullying, alcoholism, death of a parent, mentions of panic attacks, injury, mentions of a dog’s death, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of suicide attempts, depression

Word count: 7,730

(A/N): if you’re not feeling safe at home or are being abused, please contact the proper authorities. Here’s the abuse hotline: 1-800-799-7233, my DMs are always open if you want to talk

You met Tommy and Tubbo when you were in third grade. You were a relatively quiet kid, the type to always keep to themselves and abstain from social activity. Mrs. Jansen, being the nice woman that she was, let the entire class choose their own seats.

“Welcome to your first day of third grade, class! I’m Mrs. Jansen and I look forward to getting to know all of you. As you can see, there are enough desks for all of you. You may sit with who you want.”

You shifted around uneasily and gripped your book in your hands as your classmates hurried to get the back seats. After every seat was taken, you walked to the only seat left in the front. You were between a girl and a boy. They introduced themselves as Dorothy and Samuel, and were relatively kind to you.

As the class passed their second week, two boys that sat in the back row made themselves apparent very quickly. They were both rambunctious, always disrupting the class with their giggles and whispers. Mrs. Jansen had warned them multiple times that she was going to separate them, but it seemed that they didn’t think she’d do it. One day, she finally had enough.

“Tommy, Tubbo. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, I’m going to have to separate you. Dorothy, Samuel, can you please switch places with them?”

You could feel dread wash over you. Why was she putting you between them?! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You could swear that you’ve done all your chores, you even made your mom smile at you! She never did that.

They pouted as they sat next to you, Tommy on your right and Tubbo on your left. You already missed Samuel and Dorothy. “Thank you. (Y/n), make sure they behave.”

You shrunk down into your seat as you felt Tommy’s glare burning holes into the side of your head. Tubbo, on the other hand, was watching the lesson with bored eyes and his chin propped up in his hand. You tried to take notes, but you kept getting distracted by Tommy’s heated glare. You were going to fall behind, you couldn’t have that. Mama wouldn’t like that.

After the final bell rang, you hurried out of the classroom to avoid Tommy’s wrath. You could hear him shouting for you to stop, but you never stopped until your hand was grabbed and yanked backwards in the empty playground. You fell back onto the pavement of the basketball court and whimpered at the sting in your palms.

Tommy glared down at you, “you gonna cry? Serves you right. Never tell on Tubbo and I. Got it?”

You tearfully nodded and he grinned maliciously at you, “good. Tubbo, let’s go. Wil and Tech’s probably waiting for us.”

The brunet was staring at Tommy with a shocked expression, unmoving. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd of families. Tubbo looked back at you with an apologetic expression and watched as you looked at your scratched up palms.

You wiped at your tears as you stood up and started to walk home. Your neighbor’s dog behind the wired fence barked at you as you hurried past it. You never liked that dog; it was a drooling, angry, ugly furball. It scared you, but not as much as Mama did when she drank her adult juice. She was scary when she drank it. You tried hiding it from her once but she grounded you from eating dinner and snacks for half a month. You didn’t try to hide it again.

You trudged up the creaky wooden stairs of your porch and tried to open the door only to find it locked. You tried to knock on the door but Mama didn’t answer so you just sat on the front porch waiting for her to open the door. She did so when the sun was setting, surprise and then anger shining through her hazy eyes. She yelled at you before she sent you to your room for the night without dinner.

The next day when you were sitting alone at a lunch table, someone plopped down in the seat next to you. You jumped and scooted away from them, looking up only to see Tubbo. He was smiling at you.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about Tommy, he gets mad easily.”

You eyed him warily and clutched your open book, “...it’s okay.”

He grinned and scooted closer to you, peering over your shoulder at the book. “What’re you reading?”

“‘Harry Potter’.”

“Oh I love that book! My favorite character’s Ron, who’s yours?”

Surprisingly, the conversation was pleasant before he was dragged away by a glaring Tommy. You might actually make a friend after all. Later that day after school, Tommy once again stopped you in the school yard. This time, he shoved you to the ground and started to shout at you.

“You do not talk to him, freak! You’re gonna mess him up, he talks to me and me only. Do you unde-undastunend?”

You gulped and shakily spoke up, “yes, and it’s ‘understand’, not ‘undastunend’.”

His glare intensified before he reared back a fist. You yelped as you curled into a ball with your hands protecting your head. Before he could hit you, you heard the stomping of shoes against the concrete.

“TOMMY STOP.”

You could feel a hand on your back and a gentle voice asking if you were alright. You hesitated before you looked up to see an older boy with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He reminded you of Harry Potter. Looking past him, you saw a tall pink haired boy glaring and lecturing Tommy, holding the struggling boy in place with a firm grip on his elbow. Tubbo was just behind him looking down and shifting on the balls of his feet.

“I am so sorry about Tommy, are you alright? He didn’t hit you did he?”

You shook your head and the boy heaved a sigh of relief, “that’s good. I’m Wilbur and that’s Technoblade, we’re Tommy and Tubbo’s brothers. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).”

He smiled at you, “that’s a lovely name.”

“Wilbur, let’s go. This one,” Technoblade shook Tommy’s arm, “needs to talk to Dad.”

You watched as Tommy’s movements stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. “No, please don’t tell Dad. Please-”

Wilbur stood and helped you up before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and lead him away, “you aren’t weaseling your way out of this.”

You watched the brothers leave, feeling guilt wash over you. You didn’t want to get him in trouble, punishments were the absolute worst. Even though he shoved you and almost punched you, he didn’t deserve any punishment. With guilt weighing down on your shoulders, you walked home. At least Mama was in a good mood, she made you some mac n cheese for dinner.

The next day, Tommy trudged up to your desk and put a tupperware dish on your desk before sitting down in his seat and ignored you. Tubbo sat in his seat next to you and smiled at you.

“Open it,” he jumped in his seat slightly as he watched your expression change to shock. In the container laid five chocolate chip cookies. You had only had cookies once in your life and that was during a class birthday celebration a year ago. “They’re our Dad’s secret recipe, I helped make them! Um, Tommy wanted to apologize to you.”

You glanced at Tommy. He was glancing at you over his shoulder and blushed a bright red when he saw you looking at him. Tubbo cleared his throat and gestured at Tommy. The blond crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled halfheartedly.

After that, they started to sit next to you during lunch. Tommy was a bit cold towards you, but you found yourself beginning to relax around Tubbo’s friendly aura. Soon enough, you started to supply him with more than a few words per sentence. Tommy eventually got bored of eating in silence and would join your conversation. You three became thick as thieves that year, you even met their Dad. He was very different from Mama; he never yelled at you, he was always giving you snacks, and he even smiled at you often.

That house became like a second home to you. Eventually, you ended up spending more time at the Minecraft residence than you spent at home with your mom. Over the years, she got worse with her drinking. She was always passed out on the couch and when she wasn’t, she was swaying on her feet in the kitchen staring at a portrait with dazed, wistful eyes. You can remember when you first realized that she had a problem and always being unhappy and drunk was, in fact, not normal for a parent.

It was a warm spring day in seventh grade. Luckily, you had your health class with Tommy and Tubbo. You were currently learning about alcohol dependency and the effects it had on the body. The teacher listed all the symptoms your mom had; the uncontrollable urge to drink, the aggression, the shakiness and dizziness, everything. When you came to the realization that your mother might have a problem, the teacher started to explain the disorders and diseases that could come from heavy drinking, most of them having the potential to be fatal if the drinking persisted. You felt like you were drenched in icy water as your body seized up in fear for your mother. You stared unseeingly at your notebook at the symptoms of alcoholism and associated disorders. You didn’t want your mom to die. You had to do something before it was too late for her.

“(Y/n)?” You jumped and looked at the person who called your name. Tommy and Tubbo were giving you worried stares. “Are you okay?”

You shakily started to put your supplies away into your backpack. The class had been dismissed and you didn’t even realize it. “Y-yeah. It’s just- I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too,” Tommy laughed as you followed the two out of the classroom and to the courtyard. “That essay’s gonna be awful.”

“Oh god we have an essay?”

“Yeah, Mr. Smithers assigned it to us before the bell rang, are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually on top of this stuff.” Tubbo threw a worried glance towards you.

“Yeah, just a bit distracted today. I uh, have to go home. Like right now, my mom wants me home right after school today.”

You sprinted off towards your house. When you reached your neighborhood and ran past the wired fence. The bulldog that lived there was now old and gray. You found out that his name was Buster and he was actually a total sweetheart if you slept next to him on the other side of the fence on more than one occasion. Buster watched from inside his doghouse as you sprinted into the house. Luckily for you, the door was unlocked and your mother was passed out on the couch surrounded by glass bottles. You locked the door behind you as you rushed over to her intensely watching for any sign of movement. She looked dead, her skin was pale, her hair matted, and her mouth gaping open showing off her yellow stained teeth. She wasn’t moving, were you too late?

Just as you started to panic, she snorted and started to breathe. You slumped in relief as you stepped over the beer bottles into the kitchen. The table was sparkly clean with a pristine picture frame resting in the middle, a stark contrast of the beer bottles that littered the floor and the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It was of a man standing stiffly in a military uniform saluting at the camera with a stern expression. He was an exact copy of you. Well, you were an exact copy of him; that man was your late father.

“Hey Dad, how was your day? Mine was awful, I learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis today and- and I’m worried about Mom. She’s been drinking a lot lately.”

You stared at your dad’s face behind the glass as if expecting a response. You wanted some reassurance from the man. You wanted him to tell you everything was going to be okay and that he’d handle it so you could be a normal kid. Like usual, his steely expression didn’t budge one bit.

You sighed to yourself sadly and trudged to the refrigerator opening the door. The beer bottles stared back at you tauntingly. Your fingers twitched on the fridge door as you contemplated the consequences of throwing away the offending glass bottles. You remembered in second grade when you hid your mother’s alcohol she punished you by withholding food from you. She’d probably do worse this time, but the consequences were worth it if you were going to save your mother’s life.

It took you ten minutes of tossing alcohol into the garbage can until the fridge was left barren of the drink. Without the green bottles, the fridge was completely empty with the exception of milk and a few probably rotten eggs. You struggled to take the trash out to the curb and started to work on homework in your room.

At seven at night, you could hear her roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. A series of frantic rustling and banging sounded downstairs before you could hear pounding footsteps storm up the stairs. Your door flung open to reveal your red-faced, livid mother.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“M-mom I hid them because we learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis and-” You cut yourself off when she walked over to you with her arms extended towards your trembling frame. You tried to scoot as far away from her as possible, but she grabbed your shoulders with clammy but firm hands, shaking you roughly.

“Are you saying I have a problem?! You spoiled fucking brat, you’re the problem! Everything was amazing before you came and fucked up my life. You took him away from me. YOU FUCKING KILLED MY HUSBAND.”

You could feel tears start to drip down your cheeks as you remembered that day in first grade when you begged your dad to get you some McDonalds for dinner. When he relented, you cheered and your mom laughed at your excitement. She was so full of life back then; her hair was shiny and bouncy, her skin was unmarked and flawless, her eyes were lively and bright. Her laughter was perhaps your favorite memory of her. Then everything went to shit when your dad never came home and your mom got a phone call saying that your dad was killed in a car wreck on impact. You could remember your mother’s heart wrenching sobs as she collapsed to the floor and pulled you tight against her body. As if she was trying to protect what was left of her husband.

You were snapped back to reality when your mom shoved you back onto your bed. The happy, beautiful woman that you saw was replaced by the shell of a broken woman. Her silky hair turned dull, her smile turned into a grotesque scowl, her loving eyes turned cold. She truly was a husk of her former self.

“Stop crying, you’re not the one who’s life was ruined. I want you out of my house in ten minutes. You’re gonna not step foot anywhere near here for two weeks. If I even see you on my property before those two weeks are up, you’re fucking dead.”

You frantically nodded and watched as she stumbled out of her room. You packed what you would need in your spare backpack and ran out of the house past your mother sobbing and babbling incoherently to your dad. You flinched when you could hear a bang and the sound of glass shattering when she threw a bottle at your retreating figure.

You ran until you couldn’t run anymore. Your legs brought you to the park where you spent most of your childhood. Everywhere you looked, you could see glimpses of your mom and dad pushing you on the swing, Tommy and Tubbo running from you playing tag, Mr. Minecraft putting a bandaid on your scraped knee. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you pushed yourself up and went to your safe place. It was a little nook deep in the vegetation where nobody could see you. You originally found this place when you were playing hide and seek with Tommy and Tubbo. They never knew where you hid.

Tears moistened the soil underneath you as you pulled out a blanket you had hid in a plastic grocery bag and spread it out on the floor. You curled up on it and cried freely into your hands. You didn’t sleep much that night.

That was the first time she had kicked you out for that long. You barely ate in those two weeks, wolfing down any food you could get your hands on at lunch. Lunch for you was the small scraps of food that Tommy and Tubbo shared with you. Mom never packed you lunches or gave you money to buy things anymore. To make matters worse, they had told their dad that they thought you had some form of eating disorder.

About a week into your exile, you finally visited the Minecraft residence after avoiding them for a week. You remembered how the blond man pulled you aside into the kitchen. He gently sat you down and pushed a plate full of chicken and vegetables in front of you. You looked at him confused as he gestured towards the plate.

“Eat that, I heard you haven’t been eating much lately.” When you made no move to eat, he smiled at you. “Go ahead, it’s okay if you don’t eat it all. Just eat some of it.”

That was all you needed to hear, you began to eat quickly like a starving wolf. It’s been a while since you had more than half an apple to eat, let alone an actual homemade meal. When you were done, you looked up to see the older man looking at you worriedly.

“...Are you not getting enough food at home?”

You scrambled to find a lie, “my- my mom is away a lot on business trips. We don’t really eat much.”

His worried expression grew tenfold as he moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders. “You need to eat three meals a day, especially now that you’re growing. You’re always welcome here when your mom’s away, our door’s always open. Is she away now?”

“Yeah, she won’t be home until next week.” You felt bad for lying to the man that put bandaids on your scraped knees and took you to the father daughter dance in fifth grade when he heard that your dad was dead. He was always so kind to you, which you never quite understood. Despite feeling bad for lying to him, you felt incredibly relieved that you didn’t have to be alone anymore.

From then on out whenever she kicked you out, you went to the Minecraft residence. They welcomed you with open arms and treated you like you were a part of the family. You and Techno bonded over your love for reading and mythology, Wilbur made sure you took care of yourself, and Philza (he told you to just call him Phil at that point) treated you like his own child. You didn’t think that it was possible for you, Tommy, and Tubbo to be any closer than you already were, but you three became inseparable. You told them everything one night when you couldn’t sleep. You told them how you felt like you were the cause of your mother’s decline and your dad’s death, how she would usually punish you, her ‘hobby’. They were about to tell Philza, but you begged them not to. After a while of pleading and assuring them that she’d never hit you, they hesitantly agreed and made you promise to call them whenever you felt unsafe in your home.

You kept to that promise, calling them whenever she would get too drunk to know what she was doing. They would calm you down from panic attacks late at night and invite you to their house in the daytime. They felt like your actual brothers and you started to refer to them as such. You three gave each other a shoulder to lean on and gave each other comfort when needed. One night when you were in your freshman year, however, your mother caught you sneaking out to see them after she sent you to your room. That was when she started to hit you.

Just as you were about to sneak out the front door, your mother started to scream at you incoherently. When you flinched away from when she got up in your face, she became even more enraged.

“WHERE WERE YOU GOING? I BET YOU’RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT, AREN’T YOU LITTLE SLUT?”

Without thinking, you yelled back at her, “I would never! Why-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to the cheek sending you to the ground. She quieted down and stared at you and her hand, a glint of shock shining through her dazed eyes. Without a word, she turned around and left to go talk to your dad. You sat there listening to her rant about how she failed as a mother, how she wanted to do better but she didn’t know how, how she wished that he was there with her. You scrambled up and ran to your room. You looked at yourself in the mirror, there was a bright red mark on your cheek in the shape of a hand. There was a small cut where her wedding ring connected with your cheek. A single drop of blood dripped down your cheek and curved down the dip of your chin before dripping onto your shirt. Without doing anything else, you plopped down onto your bed and sobbed into your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you realized that you slept through half of the school day so it was useless to go to school now. You reached up to run a hand down your face only to hiss and pull your hand away. You once again looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked terrible. Your eyes were bloodshot and swollen like you were crying in your sleep. Hair was sticking up in all directions and matted slightly. The slap mark was gone, but the cut had bruising around the edges with dried blood crusted on your cheek and on your pillow. It was a small cut, but it bled a surprising amount overnight. You couldn’t see Tommy or Tubbo like this, they’d flip out. Luckily for you it was a Friday and you had the weekend to heal.

Your mother gradually started to hit you more and more. It started off as a once-a-week thing whenever she was really angry, but then it divulged into something that would happen daily over the smallest things. You became her punching bag for her to release some steam. Makeup became your best friend at that point; you used what little savings you saved over the years for dollar store makeup.

Soon after it became a struggle to hide the cuts and bruises from Tommy and Tubbo, so you gradually started to avoid them. Your face, once synonymous with the Minecraft residence and Tommy and Tubbo, became a rarity. They tried their hardest to contact you, but you always dodged their calls. After a few months of you dodging Tommy and Tubbo, you finally told them that you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore.

It broke your heart to say it, but it had to be done. They were getting too close to the truth and you couldn’t have that; the government would take you away from your mom and she’d end up dead. You were the only one keeping her alive at this point, she lost all motivation to eat. The only thing she did nowadays was hit you, drink, and hug your dad’s photo to her chest.

The beatings got to the point where you could barely walk without feeling pain. School became something that you’d rarely attend. Tommy and Tubbo stopped trying to talk to and call you. Buster, your previous confidant, had long since died so you were truly alone in the world. The neighbor’s yard looked barren without the dog house and the graying dog. The only person you had left was your mom.

When you had accidentally burnt dinner late at night, she completely snapped. She grabbed your arm and held it on top of the burner. Pain hit you immediately as you screamed and cried apologies to her. When you instinctively hit her with your other hand, she dug her nails into your arm and pushed your arm closer onto the burner. Nerve endings screamed at you to get away from the pain. The pain was becoming too much, so you looked on the countertop next to you for something to defend yourself with. A metal fork was lying close to your other hand.

You grabbed it and, with a distraught apology to your mother, drove the prongs deep into her arm. She screamed in pain and let your arm go. You ripped yourself out of her grasp and started to run for the front door. A force collided with the back of your shoulder making pain explode in the area. You didn’t know what happened at first, but after hearing the shattering of glass, you realized that she threw a beer bottle at you. You could feel the sting of alcohol and glass mingling with your open wounds on your shoulder. The sting was almost as bad as your arm, but you didn’t stop running especially when you glanced behind you to see her running at you with a knife raised and the fork protruding from her arm.

You flung open the door and sprinted out without bothering to close the door behind you. As your bare feet hit the sidewalk, you could hear your mother stop at the end of the stairs and shout at you to come back. You never stopped.

You didn’t stop until your feet took you to the Minecraft residence’s front door. Nobody was on the street as it was about eleven at night. You hesitated to knock on their door, you ignored the family for the past six months, and you weren’t sure if they even wanted you there. After five minutes of thinking, you just sighed as you walked back down the wooden stairs and walked back towards the sidewalk.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” You froze up at Tommy’s sleep riddled voice. You stayed frozen as you heard him stomp over to you. He placed a firm hand on your injured shoulder and forced you to turn around. His angry expression faded into a concerned one when he heard you start to sob and flinch away from him.

“Wha- shit are you bleeding?” You nodded slightly and he gently turned you back around to see a patch of darkened cloth on your shirt. You could feel him shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house. He plopped you at the dining room table and told you to wait there. With that, he sprinted up the stairs and brought back a serious Philza holding a first aid kit.

When he saw you bruised and battered, you could hear him take in a sharp intake of breath and saw unbridled anger flash across his face. You flinched away from him when he approached you.

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I won’t hurt you. Can you show me where you’re hurt?”

You eyed him warily like a scared wild animal and reluctantly moved your burned arm away from your chest and showed it to him. This was the first time you saw your forearm; it was an ugly red that expanded up the majority of the underside of your forearm with skin burned off at the edges. Yellow, fluid-filled blisters were starting to form.

You could hear Tommy’s horrified gasp as he turned to run out of the room. You kept your gaze downwards as Philza warned you that he was about to put disinfectant on your wound. He apologized to you when you whimpered in pain at the sting of the alcohol on your exposed nerves. After he was finished wrapping your arm, he asked you to show him where else you’re injured. You turned around so he could see the growing patch of blood staining your now ripped shirt. You could feel him gently move your shirt to the side and heard him wince.

“Shit, there’s glass in here. I’m going to have to get some tweezers to get it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You were then alone in the kitchen for a moment before he came back with a worried Wilbur and Techno in tow. The brunet pulled up a chair next to you and asked if it was alright to hold your hand. After you hesitantly nodded, he grabbed your hand and started to run his thumb over your knuckles. Techno held a light close to your shoulder as Philza started to tweeze out the green tinted glass from your shoulder.

Every time you would suck in air through your teeth and muffle your yelps with your other hand, Wilbur would whisper reassurances to you and hold your hand tighter. After the glass was out, the wound was disinfected, and wrapped in gauze, Philza told the boys to leave the room. He grabbed both of your hands and gave you the best reassuring smile that he could.

“Tell me what happened.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried Phil, I really did. She never got better no matter what I did.”

“What do you mean, are you talking about your mom?” You could hear the angry undertone of his voice. You tensed up and nodded.

“She… she needs help. She was never the same after Dad died, she started drinking. It started off with only one beer a day, but after seventh grade she was going through an entire case in a day. She’d punish me if I said or did anything about it. No dinner for a week was a popular one until she started to ban me from the house for weeks on end. She never went on business trips, Phil. She got a knife today. I-I thought she was actually gonna kill me this time, I was so scared.”

Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, letting you sob freely into his shoulder. “It was my fault, I couldn’t help her! She- she needed me and I couldn’t help her.” You said between sobs. He hugged you tighter and started to rub your back, making sure to avoid your shoulder. “None of this is your fault, you can’t help someone if they don’t want help. Sometimes you can’t fix someone who’s too far gone.”

“Am I too far gone?”

“No, you aren’t. We’ll help you through this, we won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. You’re gonna go on to live a good life.” You passed out in his arms after a while of crying.

When you woke up, you were in Tommy and Tubbo’s room. The two boys jumped to your side and pulled you into a tight group hug. After you tried to apologize to them for how you treated them in the past six months, they shushed you and just sat there in silence hugging you.

Later that day you found out that your mother was found by your neighbor on the front porch with her wrists slit and empty beer bottles surrounding her. She was breathing, but just barely. Currently she was in an unstable condition in the hospital. You had a full breakdown when you found out that she almost killed herself because of you. You had run out of the house and to your safe place in the park. You hadn’t been there in a few years, so you hoped that it was still there.

Sure enough, it was still there albeit a bit overgrown. The blanket in the plastic bag was in the same place where you left it. You had no idea how long you were sitting there crying and having a panic attack, but when you came to your senses it was dark outside. You could hear crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves in the entrance of your hideout.

A brunet head poked itself in and smiled when he saw you. Tubbo fully came into the nook and gestured for someone to follow. Tommy’s blond hair made itself apparent before he joined you two inside.

“Nice little place you have here. It’s… homey.” Tubbo rubbed his hands together and blew warm air on them. You threw one side of the blanket at him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Thanks, I used to sleep here sometimes… How’d you find me?”

“We could hear you,” Tommy pulled out his phone and typed something on it before pocketing it and sitting next to you. He covered himself with the blanket as Tubbo followed suit. You sat in silence before Tommy broke it.

“How long has she been hittin you?”

“Tommy!” Tubbo scolded him.

“She started about six months ago.”

“Six months ago… that was when you cancelled plans! I knew something was wrong Tubbo.”

Tubbo said nothing as he looked at you with a helpless expression. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Everything’s my fault. I’m the reason my mom’s in the hospital right now fighting for her life. I wasn’t there for her.” You would’ve started crying if it weren’t for the fact that you just felt so drained and numb.

“The fuck do you mean? She was about to kill you! You told us that she was about to stab you, what else were you supposed to do, just let her kill you?!” Tommy exclaimed.

You shrugged, “maybe. If she did she’d be happy, I was just a burden to her. I- I just wanted her to be happy and I would never be able to do that as long as I’m alive. If she killed me she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

“What the fuck (y/n),” Tubbo shouted, startling you. He never shouts, let alone swears. “How could you even say that? I don’t know what I’d do without you, everything would be so boring and nothing would be the same without you. Fuck her happiness, she’s a wretched woman if the only way she can be happy is when you’re dead. Fuck her.”

You and Tommy stared at the seething boy in shock. He never shouted when he was angry, he only did that once when he found out that Tommy was being bullied. Whenever he sweared, that’s when you knew his emotions were hitting him at full force. Tommy quickly recovered from his shock to join him, “yeah fuck her, man! She can go suck a dick.” He was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Dad’s here, c’mon he’s worried sick about you.” After they helped you out of your safe place, they both wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked you to the parking lot. You could see the headlights of the lone car in the lot turn off before the door swung open and a figure rushed towards you. You pushed yourself behind Tommy and Tubbo and hid behind them fearfully. They both turned around and put a hand on your shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s our dad.”

You peeked over their shoulders and saw a mop of disheveled, long blond hair. Philza looked like he was just told that there was an antidote for a fatal poison he just ingested, despite the flash of hurt that showed on his face. His blue eyes were accentuated by the redness of his sclera and you can see the relief painted in them. A gentle smile was on his face as he moved his arms up. Without another word, you launched yourself at him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage with your shoulder.

“Are your accusations true, Mx. (L/n)?”

Your gaze flickered over to your mother sitting on the other side of the courtroom. She looked at you with no expression on her face. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in a white bandage that was a stark contrast to the bright orange prison uniform and the silver of the handcuffs. She wasn’t the woman you knew when your dad was alive. The life was sucked out of her the second she picked up that phone call.

You looked back at the lawyer, “yes sir.”

“I have no further questions, your honor.”

“You may return to your seat, Mx. (L/N).”

You stood up and walked as confidently as you could past the dull eyes of your mother and back to your seat between Tommy and Tubbo. You held their hands tightly as the trial moved onwards. Buster’s owner even stepped up to the witness stand to give his testimony. Apparently he knew about the abuse from your late night conversations with Buster. He had contacted CPS and the police multiple times but the case was always dropped for some reason that you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder. A few of your previous teachers even showed up to give their testimonies. Their words, though true and slightly sweet, rubbed you the wrong way. If they ‘knew something was happening at home with you’, then why didn’t they do anything when it was happening? You tried to focus on the rest of the trial.

Your mother’s only witness was herself, and she did a piss poor job at it. She was basically digging her own grave with every word that came out of her mouth. The entire time, she was staring at you with her infamous dull eyes.

“Do you have any further points you would like to add, Mrs. (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have always loved my child. They were my husband’s pride and joy, the splitting image of him. Their rightful place is safe with their real parent at our home.”

You could feel Tommy attempt to stand up, but you pulled him back down; now was not the time for him to start yelling in anger. Tubbo squeezed your hand in reassurance and glanced at you. You were staring at the woman you called your mother with pain and hate filled eyes. You wished her words were sincere, but you knew fully well that they weren’t. The words that left her mouth would’ve been one hundred percent true and genuine when your dad was still alive, but he’s buried six feet under in a military cemetary now and he has been for years. You would’ve given anything, even your own life, for those words to be true a month ago, but you knew better now. Mothers don’t treat their kids like this, they’re supposed to give their children their unconditional love and take care of them. As far as you were concerned, she was no longer your mother. She forfeited that title the second she turned to the bottle. Philza is and will always be more of a parental figure than she’ll ever be.

After the jury left to discuss, the court was in a recess. You slipped out of the room and speed walked to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could see heavy eye bags under your dull eyes. The dullness of your eyes, to your horror, reminded you of your mother, so you splashed your face with water. That fixed it, your eyes were slightly brighter. You could still see the faint outline of the scar on your cheek from when she first hit you. Small scars littered your face from the more recent wounds she gave you before you ran.

A knock sounded at the door, “(y/n), the recess is almost over.” It was Techno.

You patted your face dry and went to leave the bathroom. The pink haired boy that you now saw as your older brother was waiting patiently for you on the other side. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and led you back to the courtroom. There, the rest of the Minec- no, your family was waiting for you. Just as you reached them, the judge announced that the jurors would be arriving back. The entire courtroom stood as they walked in.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

“We have.”

“Mrs. (L/n) and Mr. Langsburg, would you stand and face the jury? You may read the verdict.”

“We the jury of the state court find the defendant guilty under the charges of child abuse and child neglect.”

Tommy clapped a hand on your shoulder as Tubbo squeezed your hand. They both smiled widely at you. You, however, didn’t acknowledge them. You were only staring at the empty eyes of your mother as she was looking at the jury. Her reaction was akin to her breaking a pencil, like it didn’t matter to her. Like all the years abuse that she put you through didn’t matter was as trivial as breaking a pencil.

“So say you all?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“I hereby sentence Mrs. (L/n) to twelve years in the state penitentiary with no opportunity of parole. Mr. Philza Minecraft shall be bestowed the custody of Mx. (Y/n) (l/n) as they do not have any next of kin. Court is adjourned.” With that, she banged the gavel and the courtroom exploded in the bustling of people. You never took your eyes off from your mo- no, the monster with the dull eyes as she picked at something in her nails boredly. Just as she looked up to meet your gaze, Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. You were passed around the family in the courtroom for their individual hugs. Philza’s was comforting, Tubbo’s was congratulatory, Wilbur’s was warm, and Techno’s was slightly awkward, yet soft.

At home, you spent most of your time in the spare room Philza had given you. He had offered to help you decorate it, but you had no idea where to start. You were never allowed to have decorations in your old room. You kept the room simplistic and your possessions light.

You often stared at your dad’s portrait on your nightstand wondering what your life could’ve been like if you never asked him for McDonalds that day. Your family probably would’ve been stationed in who knows where and moved around often, as is customary in most military families. You probably would’ve never met Tommy and Tubbo in third grade. You probably would’ve never met your now older brothers and new father. You didn’t want to imagine a life without them.

After a few days of you being locked up in your room, Tommy and Tubbo came into your room with mischievous grins. You knew them like the back of your hand, so you knew the second you saw their faces that they were about to do something. You sat up and looked at them suspiciously.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing anything, (y/n). Right Tubbo?”

“Right Tommy.” Tubbo nodded curtly. They still had grins on their faces. They walked over to your bed before they picked you up and walked you out of the room. You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you laid limp in their arms. They eventually took you down to the living room and plopped you down onto the couch between them. Techno tossed them a blanket when they then used to wrap you tightly into a blanket burrito. The home screen of Disney Plus was pulled up on the TV and the curtains were drawn. Philza and Wilbur exited the kitchen with glasses of water and two big bowls of popcorn.

They smiled widely when they saw you squashed between your brothers, putting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and three glasses of water nearby. The two next to you dug into the popcorn as the rest of the family made themselves comfortable on the couch.

“What are we doing?”

“Movie night! We’re gonna binge the Marvel movies, your favorite!” Tubbo grinned at you, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Just double checking, the order is Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Mans One and Two, Incredible Hulk, Avengers, Thor-”

You cut Wilbur off with a mumbled “first Thor, then the first Avengers movie.”

“Glad I asked then! The timeline would’ve been thrown off.”

As the movies progressed, you started to finally feel like you belonged as a part of the family. Laughter came easier to you, mingling effortlessly with the family’s laughter. Every time you laughed at a scene, they would give you a smile and laugh alongside you. Eventually after about halfway through Captain America: The Winter Soldier, everyone had fallen asleep on the couch. Soft snores and the quiet sounds of the occasional fight scene filled the room as your eyelids started to close involuntarily. You looked around the room at the rest of your family. They all looked peaceful in their slumber. Tommy and Tubbo’s protective hold of their arms around your shoulders made you feel safe. It was in that moment that you realized that they would never let anyone hurt you ever again. You were a part of an actual, loving family. With that, you let yourself fall asleep into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the people that loved you the most.

General taglist:

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng

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occasionaloneshots · 3 years

Text

Childhood Losers Club Headcanons

I am normally mean, in some regard in my It stuff, so I don’t think this is mean? Anyway, I have a bunch of random little kid headcanons for the losers and so here you go. (Before they got the horrible cards of Pennywise)

Bill’s parents got a stuffed puppy for him when he was born and it was simply too big for a baby. By the time he was four he would carry it everywhere, it’s back paws hit his knees when he walks and he can barely see over its head but if you offer to carry it for him he responds with “No i-it’s okay, it m-mine. I gots it.” Until the third grade, he only let his mom and Eddie touch it, no one else.

Stan has a baby blanket, he actually sleep with it until college (though he’d never let the losers know that) and he still has it in a memory box. (it’s green cable knit)

Eddie was really attached to his father before he died, anytime his dad was home he was basically his shadow. He’d also cling to his father’s leg every morning before he left for work.

Richie would crawl under Maggie’s arm if he had a nightmare but wouldn’t wake her up because he was scared he’d end a good dream for her.

Ben was a really picky eater as a kid, if his parents took him out to eat he’d only eat chicken tenders or cheese pizza. He didn’t start trying new food until age 8.

When Bev’s mom couldn’t get her down for a nap, she would put on “Sleeping Beauty” and sit with her on the couch, Bev always feel asleep by the time Aurora did, normally with her head in her mom’s lap

Mike named ever animal that was brought onto the farm, all of them, even the mice. When he found out what mouse traps were he cried for twenty minutes.

Even thought it was considered “girly” Eddie had a baby doll, he took really good care of it too.

Richie watched his first horror movie on accident because his dad fell asleep with a marathon of them playing on the tv. Maggie wasn’t happy about it. (Richie was 8)

Ben’s love for libraries stemmed from his father, they would go to one whenever the two got the chance.

Bill’s favorite movies as a kid were “Pinocchio”, “The Reluctant Dragon” and “Dumbo”. He watched them all at least twice a week while his mom cooked dinner (it kept him still and out of trouble, after he almost dumped a pot of boiling water on himself getting too curious, his mom had to find something to occupy him)

Stan was a chicken for his first Halloween (picked out by Donald)

Mike loved to help in the kitchen as a kid, but his grandpa didn’t let him do much so he wouldn’t get hurt. (If you need someone to spread garlic butter on bread though, he’s been doing it since age 3 and is definitely your guy)

Bev would throw a fit if you put her in a dress until she was in the third grade.

When his parents were trying to decorate Georgie’s nursey, Bill drew a little family portrait of what he hoped there family would be like in Georgie’s closet. His parents never found it so it’s still there.

Mike named one of the sheep on the farm after his father once, it’s the only sheep they never killed (he died eventually though, of natural causes)

Ben used to volunteer to read to pets at the animal shelter, his favorite things to read to them was fairytales so “the animals would know they deserved a happy ending”

Eddie would not go to sleep until he got a proper goodnight and tucked into bed, no matter how tired he was.

Richie still has a finger painting of his hung up in his preschool. He was the teacher’s favorite and he painted the whole class for her

Bev hated dolls as a kid, she wouldn’t play with them at all, but she had foam blocks that she was constantly playing with. She built her mom a new castle every day and kept it up until her mom could see it

Back to Stan’s baby blanket, He used to drape it over his little legs and sit with a picture book beside his mom while she read a book with a blanket over his legs. He almost taught himself to read doing it because he would try to connect the pictures and words and tap his mom to ask if he was right.

#they deserved simple childhoods #instead they were law and order clown unit #IT movie #it stuff #it headcanons #richie tozier #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom

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i-have-a-wonky-eye-too · 3 years

Text

A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

Medieval Au

Princess Y/N Stark of York New must marry a man chosen by her brother, by the time she is 21. Her brother's council have the perfect man in mind, one that is terrifying and hell bent on having his Queen. But Princess Y/N's heart belongs to another, and luckily so does her hand in marriage.

A princess is far more powerful than a king, my love. You have the power of merging families and kingdoms. You have the power of carrying hopeful heirs to the throne. You have more power than you know...'

Bold italics are flashbacks.

Series warnings: swearing, medieval views on women, arranged marriage, smut, bloodshed, violence, 18+ readers only

Part warnings: talk of arranged marriage,

<Part 8<

"What's the matter, Princess?" Lady Natasha asked.

The two of you were taking a stroll through the castle gardens before you had to begin getting ready for the ball. You had thought the time leading up to the ball would drag, giving you time to prepare yourself, but it seemed a month was no time at all to prepare yourself for meeting your possible future husband.

"Oh, nothing really, Natasha," You let out a heavy sigh as you came to a stop beside the rose bushes. You pinched one between your thumb and fingers, breaking the stem and lifted it to your nose, breathing in its floral scent. "Just dreading this evening, I think."

"But you have nothing to dread. It's just a ball, Your Highness." Natasha smiled at you.

You nodded, "I know but," You let out a soft sigh and looked at her. "I don't think King Steven will be attending." You frowned.

"There's still no word from him?" Natasha frowned.

You shook your head, "I don't think he's never attended a ball we've thrown, other than when he was at war." Your frown deepened at the thought of him fighting in battle. "It's not just Steven, I'll miss if he doesn't attend. There's James, and Samuel... anyone who comes with him, really." You chuckled to yourself, "They are far more interesting than anyone from here."

Natasha giggled, "I know what you mean, Princess."

You grinned at her. "I bet you do. How many times did you disappear with Sir James whilst we were in Brook?" You teased.

She began blushing and looked away. "You mean how many times did Lady Wanda disappear with Sir Samuel?"

Your eyes widened with a gasp. You reached out and took hold of her hand. "I thought it was just a crush?"

Natasha shook her head grinning. "Not anymore. Sir Samuel asked her to accompany him on a walk of the gardens multiple times whilst we were there, and they shared a kiss on the last night we spent there."

"Oh, wonderful." You sighed happily, "She deserves a little happiness. I'm glad she got to see her brother whilst we were there as well."

Lady Wanda's brother, Sir Pietro, was one of King Steven's knights. As a mark of respect for Anthony and the kingdom of York New, King Steven moved Lady Wanda to your court so she could be one of your ladies-in-waiting. It was two birds with one stone, he had no need of a lady-in-waiting in his castle due to the lack of female presence, and he knew she would be welcomed with open arms. He knew you would become one of her close friends in no time because you were such a caring and loving person.

"I hope you got to visit Sir Clint and his family whilst we were there?" You asked hopeful that your friend got to see the small family that she was so close to.

She nodded with the biggest grin on her face. "I did, Princess. Baby Nathanael is going to be strong like his father."

"I'm glad to hear. I must try to visit the next time I visit, Brook." You reminded yourself.

"Your Highness," Peter called out as he ran down the stairs and up to you and Natasha. You gave him a smile as you turned around to face him. "King Anthony wanted me to let you know that the Kings are about to arrive."

"Oh," Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I best, greet them then, hadn't I." You gulped, giving Peter a panicked look.

Peter stepped closer to you and gave you an encouraging smile, "There's nothing to fear, Princess. I'll be there to protect you. And Lady Natasha and Lady Wanda will also be close by. I'm sure the two of them can scare any unwanted attention off if you wish them to." He sent you a wink along with a cheeky smirk, putting a genuine smile on your face.

"Oy," Lady Natasha smacked the back of her hand against Peter's shoulder playfully. You let out a giggle as you looped your arm with Natasha's. "He's not wrong though, Princess. We'd gladly beat anyone you asked us to." She giggled making you laugh even more.

You nodded, "Yes, I do believe you would." You smiled at her. "But for now, we need to greet our guests or we shall all be in trouble." You smiled at Natasha and Peter. "Shall we,"

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

"It's a pleasure to see you again, King Thor," You greeted the King of Asgard with a small smile. You began blushing as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"The pleasure is all mine, Princess Y/N. You are more beautiful than your portrait does you justice." The King of Asgard gave you a flirtatious smile.

Your eyes widened a little, "So, you thought I wasn't beautiful when you saw my portrait?" You asked playfully, not being able to help yourself.

King Thor's mouth opened and closed before he looked away from you and up to your brother who began laughing. "I-"

"You are a fool, dear brother," Prince Loki snickered as he stepped from King Thor's side and took your hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Princess Y/N. You've most certainly grown into an even more beautiful woman than the last time we met." He bowed to you.

"Thank you, Prince Loki." You quickly withdrew your hand and stepped closer to your brother.

"Gentlemen, if you'd like to follow Sir Hank he will escort you inside." Tony smiled warmly at his friend and his brother. He turned to face you with nce the pair of you were left alone. "Not so bad, is it?" He asked with a pleased smile.

You hummed. "We've only exchanged greetings, Anthony." You sighed, looking over towards the gate with a hopeful look in your eyes.

King T'Challa, the King of Wakanda had already arrived and just like last time you met him, he was a kind man and didn't make you feel uncomfortable like King Thor had. The Asgardian king was also harmless, just a bit openly obvious of his... kingly duties towards women. Prince Loki however, you weren't so sure about him, he gave off unsettling vibes but you knew for sure he was not going to be your future husband. The deep scowl your brother wore made that obvious.

"Are we expecting anymore guests?" You looked away from the gates to your brother.

Anthony nodded, "One or two other kings whom you've never had the pleasure of meeting before." He smiled softly at you. "Why?" He asked with a raised eyebrow as you let out a disappointed sigh.

You shook your head, "No... reason... may I be, excused from meeting the other kings at this moment in time? I don't feel, all that up to it, and I much rather rest and be... fighting fit for this evening. I'll make sure to spend extra time with them." You gave your brother a tight lipped smile.

Anthony nodded, "Of course, Y/N. I'll have lunch sent up to you, for you and your ladies."

"Thank you, Tony," You leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to your brother's cheek. "Until this evening then, brother." You bowed to him before turning and leaving your brother's side.

It took everything in you not to show your disappointment or to let the tears that were threatening to fall to run down your cheeks.

"Come, Lady Natasha," You smiled at her as you once again slipped your arm through hers, "I'm to rest for the rest of the day until this evening." You smiled at her, "I'm going to need it if I'm to keep a fake smile on my face all evening."

Natasha nodded, "Oh, don't think it will be fake all evening, Your Highness. You seemed to genuinely smile when speaking to King T'Challa." She grinned at you.

You hummed with a nod, "I do quite like the King of Wakanda," You smiled with a slight blush. "He is a kind man, James said so himself," You wiggled your eyebrows at her making her giggle.

"And the King of Asgard? Is he a kind man?" She smirked at you knowingly.

You let out a soft sigh and leaned close so only she may hear your next words, "I believe his brains are in his breeches." You giggled along with her.

"I've heard he's a mighty lover, almost as if he was a God." Natasha whispered, "At least if you were to become his Queen that would be a positive. Most men are selfish lovers..." She sighed softly.

"Is Sir James?" You teased, letting out a playful giggle as Natasha let out a startled gasp.

"Princess, how dare you ask such a question?" She burst out laughing along with you. "I am in no position answer."

"You're not denying it either." You snickered.

As you came to your chambers the two of you stopped your giggling, bowing to the knights that were standing guard before heading inside. The door had barely been shut a minute before it was flung open and Lady Wanda skipped in extremely excited.

"Ah, Princess, there you are," She grinned at you. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"You have?" You asked, sitting in the armchair that was by the fire. "And why would that be, Lady Wanda?"

"I've been making sure everything you require for the ball is prepared for you." She answered with a grin, "And your gown is just beautiful," She swooned.

"You really think so?" You asked. You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously. You weren't sure if you had made a wise decision with your gown. It was most certainly different from the appropriate attire that a proper princess should wear. "I was a little worried it may perceive me as... a whore, or unladylike."

Both of your ladies-in-waiting let out a shocked gasp, "Princess, you can't think things like that."

"Lady Natasha is right, Princess. You will look breathtaking in your gown, I swear on the Kings life." She admitted.

You blushed at her words and gave her a thankful smile. "Be careful no one hears you say that, Lady Wanda." You smiled at her. "But thank you," You stood up from your chair walked towards her and Lady Natasha. "And I am sure the two of you will look equally as beautiful."

"Thank you, Princess," Both your ladies-in-waiting smiled at you.

"Now, there should be lunch on the way up, and I would like for the two of you to join me." You smiled at them, taking a hold of their hands. "Then I think, since the three of us have nothing to do for a while, we should take a nap." You grinned.

"Agreed!" The three of you began laughing.

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

Taglist: @fckdeusername @vxidnik @coffeebooksandfandom @flowery-mess @inumorph @heavenhatesme @andineversawyoucoming

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #King!Steve Rogers x Princess!reader #King!Steve Rogers x Princess!Stark!reader #knight!bucky barnes #Knight!Sam Wilson #King!Tony Stark x Princess!reader #Marvel #Medieval au

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Paint me

Laurent LeClaire x Female Reader

Summary: Reader finally has enough money to splurge on getting herself painted for the first time in her life. When she meets her painter, Laurent, she wonders whether she got more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Hello everyone- sorry this ones out a bit late tonight- I had practice and had to finish up a few things on this one after. This is my tenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- can’t believe we’re 1/3 through 🙈If y’all have ever seen In Secret you know what scene inspired this fic asdjksdj lol 😂 also @propertyofabelmorales fic from Valentine’s Day also inspired me 🥰 I low key probably spent more time on this than necessary considering he isn’t a very popular character but I couldn’t help myself 😅 In secret was actually the first movie (that wasn’t Star Wars) that I saw Oscar Isaac in so Laurent low key has my heart- even with his murderous tendencies 😂 I always love hearing from my followers so feel free to drop an ask or request here. Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Reader is fearful of Laurent, Reader thinks Laurent might kill her, Dubcon, Oral sex (F receiving), Unprotected sex, Creampie- if any other warnings need to be added let me know

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2K

Being painted was an important status symbol in this life. To have your image captured for all to see, put down on canvas by paint from a brush was a way of showing off beauty to the people around you, and the people that came after.

You were elated to have your image captured on canvas for the first time, finally able to afford it on your own. A rare sight in the world that you lived in to see a woman able to pay the fee of having her portrait painted.

Such a rare sight it was that when you had chosen a painter and contacted him he had almost seemed confused. When he had asked if you had a husband you had snorted turning up your nose to then tell him no. It was not that you did not want any sort of romantic touch, but being tied down to someone for years that would probably not cherish you the way you deserved sickened you. So, with no one around to pressure you into an arranged marriage you remained unmarried.

The painter you had hired, Laurent, was sweet as honey, almost to a sickly degree. The charm had remained even after he had realized that you were alone, basically a spinster. Whether or not he kept up the act because he thought it would be easier to get underneath your skirts or because he truly did not mind an independent woman did not matter to you. You would only let your gaze linger over while he painted you, that was all. He was here to paint you, nothing more.

He had positioned you in a chair to sit in a simple position. His reasoning for that he told you was that the simpler the position, the easier it was for your beauty to shine. Painters had a way with words though, so you tried not to let your heart swell from the compliment.

You let yourself stare in each session as he began to lay out the foundation of your likeness. Each time you sat in the chair time ticked by slowly, inch by inch. It was not as if you minded as it let you look upon how his inky curls shone in the dim lighting, plus every other part your eyes were allowed access to. It was only fair in your book, considering his job was to stare at you.

This session you were in now seemed different to the others; he seemed more distant. While you both stared at the other not a single word was exchanged, only the brush on canvas got to speak today with each stroke.

It was harder to concentrate this time on staying as still as possible. You ached to move your legs over, just a bit to the side. Daring to test the waters, hoping he would not notice, your legs twitched a little over to the right.

For a while he continued to say nothing, painting with ease like he had completely missed the twitch in your legs. That was until he decided to speak for the first time in hours,

��No-“ His face twisted, morphing into a look tinged with darkness. It was this first sign of displeasure you had heard from your hours of sitting as if you had a rod in your spine. Dipping his brush back into his paints again to find his desired color was a much more rushed action than before. It was an annoyed and quick movement, trying to swiftly correct the mistake you had assumed he had made. When he returned his brush where it belonged on his canvas it scraped along it as he pushed the paint along, molding it into his image.

Another moment goes by silently and with no more words of displeasure; you begin to relax into your position again. It was already hard to relax fully while his eyes flitted from your body to his canvas; your nerves only raised higher after his outward sign of displeasure. He scrutinized every angle and curve as his eye took in every inch of you to create an accurate portrait of you. You wondered if in his fee there was an understanding that he would paint you in the highest light possible. Though, truth be told it was foolish to question that. What type of painter would he be if he displeased his clients by being honest in his paintings?

It was in his job description to lie. Painters depicted the beauty they saw and made it shine, even if that meant trying to find beauty in the darkest of corners to forcefully shed a light on them. All it took was a painter of proper skill, a canvas, and of course a set of paints. Any unwilling features that tried to fight their painters lies would be forcefully bent to their will, almost like a king, and all with a simple stroke to canvas. No, you weren’t ugly, but you accepted that it was his job to bend the truth to his will.

The darkness you had briefly observed reappeared on his face once more. He tried to be quiet in his frustration, but his whisper could not contain the anger brewing beneath. Truthfully his words were a far cry from a whisper, it was more of a shout, “It is not right!”

Naturally you wanted to question what had made the painter suddenly rise with anger, though you wisely kept your mouth shut tight. You did not know this man, nor did you know what he could be capable of underneath the sweet words. The darkness that brewed glinted in his eyes as he took his brush to canvas again, this time with more venom in his strokes.

You were not going to trust the honeyed words he had spoken to you, at least not now while you saw how the honey could possibly be sour. Even though honey never turned acrid in common knowledge, the sight before you disproved that. Each new brush against his canvas turned violent, almost as if he’d push through the canvas with how much force he was using and create a hole.

You could have left the room in a hurry, or even demanded him leave. After all, it was you that employed him. Watching honey that soured so quick intrigued you, so the rod stayed in your spine, though you knew it was naive of you. You couldn’t trust his words, but you could still listen to them.

Brush after brush splattered paint onto the canvas in front of him that you could not view. His once dexterous movements had devolved into a man you did not know, not that you truly knew him beforehand either. You couldn’t imagine he was painting anything close to your likeness; you highly doubted long irritated strokes would be good for each of your contours and curves.

Clattering noises filled the air of the room you were both trapped in, one trapped by his job and one trapped by curiosity. You hoped the curiosity didn’t kill you like the cat. He had kicked the easel that held the painting he was being paid for, which had caused the clattering. Gripping the paintbrush in his hand with fury he then separated it from the canvas and began to pace.

As he paced your mind wandered further; it was all it could do while it was stuck observing the man before you spiral. You wondered if he had forgotten your presence, even if he had been painting you- and you had even been doubting that.

Clearly he hadn’t forgotten about you as he suddenly stopped his pacing, slowly turning to face you again. His gaze no longer flitted between two things calling his attention, now fully focused on you, still with that rod in your spine.

“It is you.” He spoke with a deadly bite and you could not help but have your bottom lip wobble at his accusation. Racking your brain you tried to find why you were the one that was the source of his wrath and why you were the one that was about to receive it. “You are not in the right position.”

You wanted to protest, saying that you had not moved a muscle since he had placed you in this exact position with your spine rigid in a chair. The protest became stuck in your throat, no doubt because of the fear you now held for the darkness that brewed underneath. You remained stoically silent, rigid as ever, waiting for him to mold you into the position that he wanted you in.

He twirled his paintbrush in his hand absentmindedly while he thought. You did not know what he was pondering, though you had to guess it had something to do with fixing how you were positioned. He answered your own curious thoughts by confirming them, “You need to relax.”

Relaxing, that was hard enough earlier when you had not had fear put in you. Still, you tried to let go of the tension held tightly in your shoulders forcefully just as he did whenever he forced your features to look their best in his painting.

He then sighed, obviously displeased with your effort. Instead of letting you try again he simply gave you an order to ‘stay still’ while he began to approach you with his paintbrush in hand.

As the paintbrush approached you instead of the canvas you could not help but tremble as it came closer. It was not any sort of weapon that could do you any harm; it would take a lot to hurt someone with a paintbrush. Still, you quivered as it approached, perhaps more because of the gaze that was transfixed on you.

Laurent’s gaze was wild, a hint of madness was evident in his eyes. They were two dark pools of almost black fixed upon you as if they were set on devouring you in the oblivion in their depths. Eyes were said to be the window to the soul and Laurent did little to make you doubt that claim. He did not give you soothing words as he saw you tremble beneath his daunting gaze and the slowly approaching bristles of the paintbrush, still partially coated in the color he had last been using. Instead of giving you the soothing words you may have desired the paintbrush crept closer, like it was stalking you in the night just as the obsidian pools he called eyes.

Your quivers were not solely because of the glint of madness you could see, hiding in the depths of his eyes. It would be a lie to say that all your quivers and shivers were rooted in the fear as to what he might do to you if you dared move from the position he had placed you in hours beforehand. Something else akin to desire had found itself at home run in through your veins, unburdened by the worries of what the black pools might be hiding in their abyss.

That feeling, the one that was running through your veins in spite of the lingering fear, was soon guiding your body. You were no longer staying rigid in your position out of fear; you wanted him to touch you, even if only with the tips of his brush.

He knelt down when close enough to then reach to lift up your skirts. You were scarcely breathing now, still afraid yet intrigued as to what a man could do with a simple paint brush. Opening your legs up at the approach of his paintbrush would have been indecent to some, but you could not help yourself. Biting your lip hard enough to possibly draw blood was so you did not move into his touch, letting him come to you as you did not want to incite his wrath. You wanted him to touch you with it, despite that fear of those black pools staring fiercely at you.

The soft bristles finally grazed the inner flesh of your thigh, a small tickle running through the nerves connected to the spot it touched. You could’ve been fooled into thinking that it had been the brush of his hand if your own eyes hadn’t been fixated upon him.

You moved your position just a hair, maybe even smaller than the ones on the paintbrush used to move you.

“There.” His whisper breathless, now devoid of the darkness that had stifled any sweetness.

You ached to hear him say it again, it was not a praise for you in the strictest sense. He had been simply readjusting you, hardly any room or need for any praise. The way he had whispered it along with the whisper of the brush upon your skin made it feel like he was praising you. Before you knew what was happening or considered the consequences you chased the brush he had begun to pull back with your thighs.

The darkness quickly came back on his face when he had noticed you had moved to chase his touch. He began to bark out a command to put you back in your place, even though he was the painter, and you, the client. “Sit ba-“

“Brush me again.” Your plea was too beautiful for him to let it go unanswered, even though you had cut him off. There no doubt was still lingering fear inside you, afraid of what he might do in retaliation.

He surprisingly obliged you, you could see his curiosity meld with the darkness in him. He lifted your skirts again, holding the brush just above the spot where he had touched moments before.

When he brushed the inner flesh of your thigh again, the pressure was harder, less unsure.

That simple touch made you moan, even though he wasn’t touching any spot that normally might bring you pleasure. It was as if a dark shadow had cascaded across his face to blur your perception of who he probably was underneath it all. If it wasn’t for your curiosity and your simple desire you would have thought more critically about his next request.

“Take off your dress.” Like someone without a thought you stripped it off of you in haste, as did he with his own clothes.

In no time at all it seemed, his mouth had enveloped your own, keen on devouring all you had to offer. He picked you up with ease by the tops of your now naked thighs so he could lower you to the floor. He then allowed himself to nip and suck on any section of skin he desired to put his mouth on. Not that you could reciprocate as he had your hands held above your head.

When his fingers started to dance along the tops of your thighs just as the brush had done you instinctively pushed your thighs together. The action was quickly reversed by Laurent releasing your hands to push your thighs apart, giving him an unobstructed view of your entrance.

His mouth was soon swiftly on the places that brought you pleasure, sucking your pearl into his mouth like a sweet.

You wanted to writhe underneath him out of sheer pleasure, but he did not need to bind you to make you immobile. That fear still lingering in your mind kept your body still, even as he combined his mouth with his fingers by pushing them into your entrance.

“There?” He whispered as he crooked them upwards, trying to find the spot that would make you see stars. It wasn’t quite right though, so you shook your head side to side. You didn’t dare to speak, not that you could do anything more but making unintelligible moans of pleasure.

“There.” He whispered with finality when he hit that somewhat spongy spot inside you making you cry out louder than before. It was so nice to hear him say those words again, honeyed words that tasted so sweet even though they were tainted by darkness. Your release shot through you quickly, like an arrow sent to kill you.

He removed his fingers from you when you were finished with your first release of the night, wasting no time to push himself inside you. He was larger than any other man you had been with, stretching you blissfully and almost painfully. You were lucky he was not too cruel to not let you adjust to his size, but as soon as you had he unleashed himself upon you. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and let him thrust into you at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin slapping on skin were so loud they almost over took the moans you were emitting along with his grunts.

When his hand came to wrap around your neck your own mortality became evident to you. Early before you had succumbed to his touch with a simple brush, you had been afraid he might harm you, even with the desire pumping through your blood. You had not even thought of beyond a simple bruise or cut to your flesh by him. His hand around your throat while he thrusted into you made you wonder how much it would take for him to squeeze until your lips turned blue.

Desire one again took over your fear, his hand around your neck combined with the sweet nothings whispered in your ear made you fall apart again. It was a slow devastating release like honey dripping off a spoon languidly until it dropped down to sweeten the pot. Even though his own honey had turned sour, he still was fully capable of making people feel sweetness while shrouded in darkness.

He filled you soon after you had finished your own release with a grunt. Neither of you had any real care to be able to give to the possible consequences of him filling you. He rolled off of you and you were glad in the moment he didn’t crush you under his weight like most men would have done.

Silence seemed to be a staple item that constantly wormed its way in between the two of you. No one spoke for a while, truthfully it might have been an hour. Laurent was the first to break it again, with much less malice than before,

“Do you want me to continue to paint you?” He whispered into your skin as he continued to pepper his plush lips across your skin. Glancing up towards the easel that still faced the canvas away from you and then over to the bare man next to you helped aid you in your decision. You could let him leave with wasted paints, wasted canvas, and wasted potential.

The wasted potential was what stopped you from letting him paint the rest of the angles of your body. Pondering what could come of the painting, and your relationship with the man who had just made you see stars while simultaneously making you fear or your life at the same time made you frown. The possibilities were endless, but those two black pools hid something too interesting for you to ignore. You wanted to know more, even ached for it.

“Yes.” You simply replied and you then willingly fell into the abyss.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith — grr tumblr is still being stupid

People who might be interested 🤷‍♀️: @propertyofabelmorales @sergeantkane @foxilayde

#laurent leclaire x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x reader #in secret #30 fics in 30 days #oscar isaac fanfic

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delizbin · 2 years

Note

Hi!! Are you planning on doing something for Mirabel's birthday? Maybe her sisters celebrating with her...? Idk

I just hope people love her as much as she deserves at least today :(

I love her so much and I wish I could but I don’t think I have the factual time to do and post a proper full illustration today😭

But I’d love to make a family group hug portrait someday because she deserves the world

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Love in the Time of Allergies

A/N: this is a concept from @redbeanteax and I’m down immediately after she told me about it lmao

Pairing: florist!Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Description: You were a tattoo artist who loved flowers and he was a florist who was allergic to flowers.

Word count: 6785

Playlist:

How Long?//Vampire Weekend

Pleaser//Wallows

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. If you wandered through the many narrow lanes, maybe you would get further and further away from the flagships and tall windows of the main avenue in front of the quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd, bunches and bunches of bouquets lined up at the windows and pots hanging from the awning.

Sakusa Kiyoomi lived right above that flower shop, which he coincidentally runs.

Every morning, he woke up to the sun shining through the thin linen of his curtains. The streets were already alive by the time he was awake. The sounds of delivery vans driving past his window, the crisp bells of school children riding along the road to school on their bicycles ticking his still hazy senses. He was not a snoozing type of person by all means, immediately getting up to get his day starting the moment he paused his alarm. Then he would fold up his sheets neatly, getting them in the washing machine so he could replace it with the ones that had just finished drying the night before. Sakusa always made cleaning the first thing he does right after he wakes up, it made him feel productive and he relished in the feeling that his space was spotless at every corner.

By the time he was done, it would be time for him to go downstairs to open up the store and get ready to receive the batches of fresh flowers that were delivered every day. If he pushed open his windows, the sweet smell of flowers together with the morning air would fill his room.

A florist with a face that looked like he walked out of an ink portrait from the old times, just him standing there could be worthy as a still from any movie scene. Long, nimble fingers placing each stem right where it belong, the beauty marks above his brow moving as the man furrowed his eyes in concentration like the morning dew sliding off the white petals of a blooming flower.

A beautiful man and beautiful flowers. It would have been a breathtaking sight if you could ignore the fact that the florist was sadly, severely allergic to the flowers that he was surrounded with at every waking moment of his life.

Sakusa himself would like to argue that you could not, and should not, brush off such an important detail to his survival. Thank you very much.

How did he become a florist in the first place if he was allergic to flowers, you may ask. Well, He didn’t know. One day, he was filling in for his cousin who couldn’t attend his shift because he had dropped ill. Said cousin might have deliberately hidden up the fact that he was working at a place that sells flowers and by the time Sakusa arrived at the storefront feeling like he got struck by thunder, it was too late.

It was a pity that he was such a natural, so much so that he received a phone call from the then shop owner asking if he could come back the next day.

Sakusa still thought about that day occasionally. What had he done to himself, he looked at the sky and let out a long sigh.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was inclined to believe that he must have committed some sort of indescribable crime in his last lifetime to deserve this cruel joke from the universe.

Pulling up the latex gloves, he released the elastic band with a snap as it sit snugly on his wrist. He had his protective suit on, the white plastic covering him from his neck all the way down his legs. He had his mask and mask cover (yes, the mask needed its own cover) on before pulling his hood over and making sure that all his hair was tugged in.

Looking at the mirror, he let out a satisfied hum. Perfect, now all he needed to do was wait for the truck to arrive.

“Hello! Your delivery is here!”

The deliveryman was a new employer of the company, his uniform neatly buttoned up all the way. He checked his reflection in the window from outside the shop, reminding himself to put on a good smile when greeting the client. It was his first time going out for delivery on his own without a senior tagging along and he intended to leave a good impression.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another while waiting for someone to answer the door. He looked around the street, taking in a deep breath of the morning air. It was a rumor among employers that there was a living urban myth on this street, one that looked like it walked out of a chemical waste field in a dystopian novel was what they said. He chuckled to himself when he recalled how terrified they looked at the describe the myth. Look at the street with its sunshine and serenity, they should at least pick a more suiting location for the lie if they wanted to prank the newbie.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s alright! Please notify me after you checked if all the stock is correct,” he said with a wide smile as he turned around to where the footsteps were coming from, “mr- AH!!!!!!!”

A few blocks away, you paused when you heard an ear piercing scream from outside.

“Did you hear something?” your manager asked, looking out of the shop window with a confused look, “I swore I heard someone screaming.”

You tilted your head, looking away from the poster you were trying to hang onto the wall to follow where they were looking at. There were no panicking or people running to take cover so it didn’t seem like something major had happened. You shook our head, “Maybe it’s the sound of tires screeching?”

“Hm,” they glanced outside in wary but turned back to the empty store with a sigh, “is the backroom all set up?”

Your arms withhold in the air for a moment as you tried to see if the frame was before clasping your hands together in satisfaction before climbing off the stool you were standing on to turn and face your manager, “Yeah, I told the people to place all the chairs down as you said and all we needed to do was to unpack our tools, loaded up the shelves and we’re all done.”

“Ok, good,” they let out a heavy breath, placing their hands on both sides of their waist, “I still can’t believe the landlord of our last place can just take back the lot just like that.”

“Hey, they want to sell it to a big corp for quick bulk of cash instead of renting it out to a tattoo parlor, not that it doesn’t make sense,” you said with a click of your tongue, a loop-sided grin making its way onto your face as they chuckled at the saltiness you were not holding back at all, “at least we managed to find a new place fast.”

“Well, that’s true,” they said, “this seems like a pretty nice street.”

Other than the fact that someone screamed like they walked out of a horror movie in the morning out of nowhere, you thought to yourself but nodded no less as you two stood side by side and looking out of glass windows, trying to not think too much of it.

The fact was, you were just glad that you still had a job. It felt like the sky fell on your head when you walked into your humble little workplace one day to see the heavy expression everyone was wearing only to be told that the lease for the parlor would not be renewed next term. It wasn’t easy to just find a new place to rent so quickly nowadays and the possibility that you might go jobless for months horrified you to no end.

You liked the parlor you worked in. You had heard your fair share of horror stories of how some places mistreat their apprentices before you made the commitment of applying to become one and even though you were scared out of your mind while you asked if the place was still taking apprentices after being turned down numerous times already, it was nothing short of luck that you ended up being under a group of very nice people when you actually did succeed. You had been in this parlor for several years now, staying behind even after you got your license. You liked the homely little shop and you most definitely loved working for the owner who taught you so much so you couldn’t be more glad when they came in just a week before everything at the old place must be cleared out saying that a new lot had been secured.

You now needed to wake up a good hour earlier than before and take a bus that you were sure would take you to the other end of the town if you overslept by one station just so you could make it to work on time, but no complaints. At least the street looked nice, and there was a flower shop just a few blocks away from the parlor which you were very happy about.

You liked flowers, you had always found them to be great inspirations.

“Hello?”

A crisp ring of the bell interrupted the silence you were having while you two quietly unwrapped all the tools and whip them clean before putting them in place at the back.

“Can you go get it? I think it might be some of the other decorations being delivered over.” they said, staring at the little scratch at the back of one of the lamps with a painful expression in their eyes as they realised that it could not be rubbed away no matter how hard they tried.

You pushed away the bubble wrap that was piling up on your legs before standing up, dusting off the plastic strands before walking out to the front of the store.

“Hello- ah!”

You jumped when you saw a.. well you weren’t sure if that was a person because there was no face for you to identify but they had to be because you could not begin to process what else they might be underneath the full body plastic suit paired with what almost looked like a bee hat, standing at the front door with their arms stiffly extended and holding a flower basket in hand.

Your breath was rigid as you tried to calm yourself down, slowly getting back into a proper posture as you tried to ignore the million questions running through your head.

“Hello,” the voice sounded a bit distant from behind the mask but you could still make it out to be the voice of a young man. “I’m Sakusa from the flower shop a few blocks away.”

“Oh. Oh, oh, nice to meet you," you blurted out, giving a slight bow when you realised that you were still standing there in a daze, never feeling so confused as to when the person replied to your panicking gestures with a slight nod, “I’m (y/l/n), I’m one of the tattoo artists who work at the parlor.”

So this was the person who runs the flower shop? You tried to control yourself from making it too obvious that you were stealing glances at his more than peculiar attire for walking on the street under broad daylight. You weren’t aware that florists had to dress in bee suits.

Sakusa raised his already raised hand a little, “This is a welcoming gift for your opening.”

“Ah, thank you so much,” you said, gingerly taking a few steps forward to take the flower basket from his glove covered hands. He seemed to be relieved after you took the flowers away from him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing his shoulders.

“If you need any help please always feel free to come over,” he said, sounding rather unnatural as he stayed where he was, maintaining a fixed distance from you.

“Of course,” you replied, standing with your back just a little straighter at the sheer tension that you were feeling under the stare of a man whose face you could not even see, “thank you for the flowers.”

He gave you another nod before walking out the door and you waited, standing there until he was completely out of your sight and let out the breath you had been holding in.

That was strange, you thought to yourself as you took a look at the basket you were holding.

Hm, the arrangement was very pretty though.

At first, you were very hesitant to even go near the radius of the glass door with flower pots hanging down. Could you be blamed? Who wouldn’t be intimidated by a person who showed up in a full body plastic suit? But eventually, your urge to find good references for your sketches gave won over your prejudice and you gathered up all your courage one day while you didn’t have any bookings and walked into the flower shop a few blocks away.

You weren’t sure if you were more bewildered or satisfied by your predictions being correct when you walked in to see him standing by the counter being covered from head to toe. Sakusa still looked as stiff as he was when he showed up at the parlor last time when he was in his own store, watering the flowers with this oddly long sprinkler.

You still felt that to be pretty strange but you were determined that no matter what, you were not walking away from that place emptyhanded.

Surprisingly, he was not as hard to approach as you had thought he might be and he was very helpful when you were overwhelmed by the many pots lining the store, pointing to the bunch of colourful daisies at the far corner when you told him you wanted something that looked delicate.

You started ordering bouquets from Sakusa’s store regularly a while later.

This did not look right. You stared at the black lines on the paper, feeling like your head was about to explode at how you could not point out what was exactly wrong with it but it simply didn’t look like the image you had in your head.

Throwing the pen down, you leaned back against the couch in the front room with an exasperated sigh as you glanced at the hand on the clock that tilted more and more as each second passed.

What happened to delivery at 3pm sharp?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you jumped up at the sound of the door being pushed open and Sakusa walked in with a bouquet of carnation in hand. He was still covered but even without seeing his face, you could tell how he rushed over with the slight heaving in his voice, “there was a... dire situation back at the shop and I had to get that handled before I can make the delivery.

Sakusa shivered as he recalled how there was this customer who kept sneezing while walking around the store.

“It’s alright,” you said, getting up from the couch where you were laying on, “can you help me put it in the backroom?”

“Of course.”

“Just putting it here would be alright.” you gestured to the small table at the corner and he nodded before putting the ceramic pot down.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the last several bouquets and pots you got from him the past week lined up on the shelf at another side of the room.

Sakusa tilted his head. He had regular customers but none that showed up as often as you did and none that bought flowers for no specific reason at all other than to look at them. “Do you like flowers that much?"

He wasn’t sure what it was about the look of pure fascination in your eyes when you looked away from the colourful flowers to face him, but he felt an unexplained antsy feeling rising at the back of his neck.

“I guess it’s not so much of a sentimental liking than just admiration,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “they can be so simple but so detailed all at the same time,” you chuckled, “I find all my best works to be of floral patterns.”

You could not see his face behind the mesh net but you could guess that he was probably squinting his eyes right now with the way his body bent just a little forward. He was interesting to observe, and you had found quite a bit of entertainment in watching him.

“Here,” his eyes widened when you rolled up your sleeves with a laugh. He was wondering how you didn’t seem to have any tattoos on your unlike the other artists who he had met but it seemed like you just didn’t feel as much of a need to put them on display at all times. Under the white sleeves that now rest on your elbow, there were inked lines littering all across your arm, stopping at your wrist and he could only imagine that the vines would go further up into where the faintly see-through fabric was covering.

“This is the first tattoo I ever did on my own,” you said, tilting your arm so that he could see the sunflower on the inside of your wrist, “this is a gift to myself after I finished my apprenticeship.”

“My actual first tattoo though,” you lifted your arm up, showing him the morning glory that peaked out from under your sleeve, hanging on the vines that hugged the side of your arm, “is this one,” you had a look of nostalgia in your eyes like you were greeting an old friend, “I got it the moment I turned 18 without my parents knowing, to remind myself to be resilient like morning glories that climb high even on stone walls.”

He felt like he was invading some sort of precious intimacy that was supposed to be sealed up and savoured when you gently hooked your finger under the collar of your shirt, pulling it to the side just enough for him to see the dots of baby’s breath above your collar like tiny stars.

“But this one is my favourite. I got it because... well...” you poked your tongue out before pushing the folded collar back in place, “I just think it looks nice.”

Sakusa didn’t quite understand what the aesthetic appeal of flowers that you seemed to be so fixated on was. He worked with flowers but they weren’t anything that means much to him unless you count “mortal danger” as a special meaning. But as he watched you fix your shirt, the botanicas on your skin once again hidden from sight by the silky fabric that fell down like morning mist in the market street, he found himself sparing another glance to the flowers he just handed to you and wondered what they would become under your pencil and ink.

“Do you keep all of them around?” he asked, referring to the many different flowers that didn’t look like they go together on the shelf.

“Sometimes I’ll let clients take away the ones that I already sketched if they like it but I kinda just put them here the rest of the time,” you replied, touching one of the petals of the tulips that were sitting in a vase, “it’s quite a pity that I can’t put them in the front but the manager said it doesn’t fit the rest of the décor.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, even though it’s not like you could see him do so with the cover of the black mesh, and said something that surprised even himself once it was vocalised.

“If what you need is a reference for your sketches, you can always come over and look at the ones we have on display.”

“Really?” you did not hide the sheer excitement you had towards his suggestion, only to back down sheepishly when you realised how eager you were, “But would that be much of a bother to you?”

He was never much of a people person. He had a very carefully selected few close friends around him and he did not intend to broaden his circle any time sooner. He barely even wanted to interact with his customers all that much if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed the business, if he was being honest. His palms were starting to feel clammy from the sweat that wasn’t there just earlier, a feeling he very much so dread but the twist in his stomach that he could not begin to understand somehow hazed over this usual discomfort.

“Well, if you are only sitting there and sketching I don’t see that to be much of an issue...” he said, his voice getting tinier and tinier like he was starting to be confused over his own words.

You walked him out of the parlor with a very, very wide smile that day, thanking him again and again and joking that it was too late for him to take his offer back now because you were going to start annoying him daily. He wanted to argue that you already went around for your flowers often enough that making it a daily occurrence wouldn’t be much of a difference but he bite it back, worried that it would come out harsher than he had meant it and gave you the impression that he actually didn’t want to talk to you.

Which was strange, considering how he never really thought that he actually did want that to happen.

You started showing up at his shop every day, as you had said you would.

At first, your interaction with him was limited to the brief exchange of greetings when you walked into the store, informing the working Sakusa that you would look around yourself and he didn’t need to worry about you. You used to spend so long just standing there and sketch, stretching your neck that was sore from drooping down every once in a while. You said he didn’t need to pay any attention to you but as the owner, he still felt somewhat of a responsibility to show his care about his visitors’ well-being.

Then you showed up at his place again only to find a little bar stool by the counter.

You looked at the suited man at the side and he looked away from under the mask under your stare. “I got you a chair because you are here for very long each time,” he added under your appreciative stare, “people are gonna get the impression that everyone can just walk in and do the same.”

So you now had your own designated spot in his shop, right by the counter where he worked.

You started actually chatting to him after then and you liked to think that you two were friends, even though you still didn’t know what he looked like under the bee hat.

Until one day, when you went along the sidewalk of the peaceful street to the flower shop a few blocks away and saw a strange man struggling at the front door.

You froze in place, taking a few steps closer to the walls so he would not notice you too easily.

Who was this? You looked on warily at the lean figure that was shaking the lock on the glass door rather vigorously, seeming to be more and more frustrated with each moment passed. You could not see his face clearly with the dark curls that fell onto the side of his face. He was dressed in full black, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers that only accentuated how long his limbs were. The attire did little to help with your suspicion that he was not there for a proper purpose, seeing how he was starting to shake the handle of the door and let out a tired groan when it stayed closed.

Would it be someone trying to break in? In the middle of the day? Oh god, you felt the blood drain from your face when you realised what this meant.

Sakusa would have a breakdown if some unknowns leave dead skin cells over all his things.

“Um... excuse me?” you gathered up your bravery and walked towards the man, slightly taken back when he snapped around to look at you. He was way taller upfront and you gulped.

To your surprise, he didn’t look shocked when you approached him. In fact, he seemed to have calmed down a little from his earlier irritation with the lock upon seeing you.

“Did I not tell you we are closing early today?” he said, crouching forward slightly.

“Oh, I’m just here to look for a friend...” you paused, your eyes widening when you heard how familiar his voice was, “wait... Sakusa?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, brushing the piece of hair that had fallen onto his face away from his eyes. “Yes?”

You were so prepared to fight whoever it was that might be busting the lock open but you were not prepared for this. You were so used to seeing Sakusa in his full body protection gear that the idea of him being this faceless entity got so comfortable in your head, seeing him as someone with actual facial features and expressions made you feel like you were meeting a whole new person all over again. He was staring at you, bending even forward as he waited for you to say something in confusion. The posture allowed you to take a clearer look at his face, and somehow it sent more adrenaline to your system than the nerves you got from thinking that you were about to witness a crime.

Wait, hold up. Why did no one tell you that he was hot?

From the angle you were at, your eyes immediately caught on to the sharp arch of his eyebrows, the two moles on one side dotted on like ink on white paper. His bone structure was pronounced, the defined curve lining his eyes going down to the tip of his nose. He was looking down at your through his long lashes, his lips pursed as he waited for you to say something.

You felt a slight regret rising in your chest for his face that was wasted away because its owner decided to dress like a b-movie crazy scientist.

“Why are you trying to break into your own store?” you asked, breaking the silence when you realised that you had been staring at him like some dazed fool.

He let out a mumbled groan, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “I forgot my mask at the counter before I left but now the door is doing that thing where it gets stuck and couldn’t turn the key,” he turned back to the door, putting both hands on the handle and yanked.

“Do you need help?” you asked, peaking from behind him.

“Please do,” he sighed and you held onto the frame of the door, “I’ve already been exposed to the air for far too long for-” he gritted his teeth as he gave it another pull.

“My-” a slam on the door pushed the rest of the key that was stuck into the porthole.

“Liking-”

The door crashed open with a loud bang and you stumbled forward to regain your balance. He sucked in a deep breath when he felt the sweat on his palm, walking as fast as he could to the counter and let out a relieved sigh when he pulled out another one of his white medical masks.

“Why are you closing early today?” you leaned on the counter as you watched him physically relaxed after hooking the cotton band over his ears.

“I’m heading to the flower market today to look for new suppliers,” he said as he pressed down on the wire on the bridge of his nose, “the one we were working with suddenly said they can’t do business anymore because the delivery company refused to send people here which is very strange.”

“I see,” you said, “I was gonna hang around here because I don’t have any more bookings for today, I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“You can come with me if you want,” he blurted out, his own eyes widening as he paused, “it might be very boring though.”

“Wait, I had never been there before, can I?” you gasped, “I want to go!”

“Ok.” he said rather stiffly, not expecting you to be so excited about what he viewed to be a rather blend thing to do.

He did not know what it was that made goosebumps rose on his arm when you followed him out of the shop, taking a few steps for each on he took just to keep up with him. It was like how it felt when he used to be less careful and got too close to the plants that he worked with, tickling and irritating and made him want to tear his own skin off but not nearly as unpleasant. In fact, he would go as far as to described the feeling as “fuzziness” when you kept talking to him on the way even though he rarely replied with more than a few short sentences.

“Sakusa, can I ask you something?”

Your voice broke him out of his running state of mind.

“Yes?”

“Why do you always wear a full body suit?"

"I'm allergic to flowers.”

“What?” he grimaced at the reaction he had expected, already knowing what you were going to say next.

It was a mistake, Sakusa grumbled to himself as he recounted how his life seemed to be full of mistakes, starting from becoming a florist even though he was highly sensitive to pollen.

“Then how did you become a florist-”

"Please don’t ask.”

“Ok.”

“Remember to leave the cover on for the next two hours and wash it with lukewarm water,” you said to your last client with a smile as you opened the door for them, "and just contact us if you need any help with the aftercare.”

You let out a satisfied sigh when they happily waved at you before exiting your sight. There was no better feeling than to see someone being so happy about the piece you did for them. You stretched out your arms, rolling your neck as your back cracked. That took a while, you let out a slight whine when you felt the knot on your shoulder. You found yourself to be the type that emerged themselves into their work completely once started on something which you view to be a good thing but that also meant that your notifications were always blown up every time you did a slightly bigger, more detailed piece.

You recalled your phone to buzz non-stop during the appointment until you got annoyed and turned off the sound completely. Taking it out of your pocket, you took one of your gloves off to unlock your screen.

Your eyes widened at the amount of miscalls and messages that came from Sakusa, who had given you his number after you annoyed him into saving yours. He rarely called you, you were always the one spamming his inbox when he was trying to put you on read.

You had a bad feeling about what had happened when you saw another incoming call from the man who had been bombing your phone.

“Hello-”

“Come over.”

“What?” you said. His voice was pressed down even lower than usual and you clutched your phone closer to your face to hear him clearly.

“Please just... come over. Come over quick.” he hissed.

“What is going on? Sakusa are you ok?” you felt the panic building up in your chest at the tone he used.

“I am facing a critical situation and you’re the only help I can get-”

“Ok,” you didn’t wait for him to finish before hastily pushing the door to the street and paced to the direction of the flower shop, “I’m coming over now.”

“Thank you,” he let out a shaky breath, “and please be quick.”

You nearly went over the front door of the shop with how much of a rush you were in. Looking in through the window, the shop was completely empty and you could not even find Sakusa anywhere.

Oh god, what was it that got him in such a crunch?

“Hello?” you asked gingerly as you stepped inside, "Is anyone here? Sakusa?”

There was no one in there. You furrowed your eyebrows as you walked deeper into the stores and past the vases that lined up at the sides.

“Psst..”

You snapped towards where the sound came from.

“Sakusa- ah!” you yelped when you were suddenly yanked down to the floor. You blinked when you saw who it was that suddenly pulled you behind the counter.

“Sakusa, why are you hiding under here?”

You felt bad for finding the very tall, very well-built Sakusa who was once again wrapped up in his plastic suit all curled up under the counter, even more so when you saw that he was actually sitting on a plastic sheet instead of on the bare ground.

Even if he was finding somewhere to hide, he still uphold his principals.

“There’s this...” he shivered, “thing out there crawling around...”

“Thing? Crawling?” you tilted your head as you looked out, “I didn’t see anything?”

“Well of course you don’t. They are fast and tiny and black and...” he shivered again, shaking his head a little as if trying to shake away his thoughts.

“Fast and tiny and black...” you paused, “you mean a cockroach-”

“Do not say it out loud,” he gritted.

“I’m sorry for saying this but thank god,” you let out a deep breath, “I thought you were being held at gun point or something...”

“How is this any better?” he asked in disbelief, “please help me get rid of it..."

“Sakusa I’m not gonna be your personal bug killer-”

“Before I burn this place down-”

“Ok,” you said with your hands thrown up, telling him to stay put and hold back from doing any property damage. You sighed as you stood up, “Thank god I rushed out in such a hurry that I still have my gloves with me...”

Sakusa finally knew what that burning irritation he felt whenever you gush at him was when he peeked from behind the counter to see you swiftly trapping the cockroach under a plastic bag and swept it up with your gloved hands before taking it out to the street. He felt a rapid rhythm drumming in his chest when he heard a loud stomp from outside, his black eyes following your frame when you came back in with a sigh as you skillfully removed your gloves from inside out and tied them together.

“Um...” he felt the slightest bit uneased as he climbed out from his hiding spot, suddenly feeling small even though he was clearly towering over you, “thanks.”

“It’s alright,” you said with a chuckle, “can’t have you dying on me like that.”

He had never been glad about his allergies until now, feeling just a little bit more self-assured because even though his mind was in shambles from the sudden realisation he had, at least he had the mask to hide his face that he was sure to be flushed from you.

“Do you need help sanitising everything?”

"What?” his voice came out as a whisper.

“Well,” you said matter-of-factly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I assume you won’t just let it be after that co- that thing got in here?”

“Yeah," he stood up just a little straighter, “yeah, of course.”

Sakusa felt an unexplained taste in his mouth. It was a bit bitter, the dryness making his jaw clenched but he also couldn’t help the muscle at the corner of his mouth from inching up higher and higher as he watched you scrubbing the counter with a cleaning wipe, your forehead crinkling up in concentration

He was so, so in love.

You dropped everything at hand and ran out the door when you got his message.

“Can you come over?”

What was it? What was it this time?

You ignored the bewildered glances from the passersby as you dashed along the otherwise serene street.

Was it a bug? Did someone sneeze near him? Did some idiot broke the vases and got muddy water on him again? There’s no way that could happen twice in a week, right? Right?

You were heaving by the time you got to his place, nearly tripping into the shop as you tried to collect your breath. Sakusa was standing in front of the counter and facing the door, oddly without his usual bee hat. He felt his stomach twisting in knots as you held yourself up by the door with one hand and the other clutching your chest as you panted.

He did not expect you to show up so quickly. He had thought that he would have some more time to collect himself after pressing “send” with his shaking hands so he could look, well, somewhat cooler doing what he planned to do after a lot of inner conflicts.

“Ok, I’m here,” your hair was a mess as you looked up, your chest still heaving from the run, “what is it? What happened? What do I need to do?”

“Um...”

“Oh god, why aren’t you talking? how bad is it?” you said as you slowly straightened your posture, only to feel your breath hitched when you saw why he was in silence.

Sakusa seemed to be in clear discomfort, his eyes shifting around as his throat bobbed. But it wasn’t his usual look of wariness or discontent and instead, he seemed to be nervous.

And then you saw the bunch of red roses he was holding in hand.

“You know,” he gulped, holding his arm out as stretched out as he could, “a dozen roses means ‘be mine’ in flower language.”

You blinked, your eyes slowly widening as he looked away.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” you licked your lips, a grin finding it’s way to your face, “are you trying to say something?”

“I said,” he gritted from his teeth, his face burning up under your teasing tone, “be mine.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, your face aching from the smile that was only growing wider. In your ear, you could hear the steady drumming tapping at you, sending the signal everywhere in your body as you felt the warmth that spread together with it.

Say yes, say yes, say yes...

“Of course.”

He let out a hitched breath as his shoulders drooped, pouting a little when he looked back at you as if he was blaming you for poking fun at him earlier.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the look of resentment only grew when you started giggling, “but you were so cute just then, I couldn’t help myself.”

He grumbled and your giggling turned into actual laughs while he glared at you but couldn’t hide the blush on his face.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I say yes, right?”

"Sure,” he let out a soft tsk, “but can you please take this?”

“Is that really the way to go at it-”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, oh,” you said when you suddenly remembered his allergy and rushed to take the roses from him, “of course, of course...”

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. There was a quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd and a tattoo parlor a few blocks away, but you already knew that. You also knew that as bewildering as it sounded, the florist that run the shop was actually deadly allergic to flowers.

But what you didn’t know (or at least pretend not to so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed) was that for you, the tattoo artist who loved flowers, the florist who was allergic to flowers wouldn’t mind taking off his plastic suit and hand deliver fresh flowers to you every day just to see you smile.

Bonus

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” Sakusa said with a deadpan face as he sat on the chair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he replied, even though his entire body was tensed up.

“Ok,” you said, leaning closer to him, “promise me you won’t regret this.”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you said in a breathy tone, gulping as you placed you held the edge of the tattoo chair for leverage, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Ok.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your boyfriend who had his eyes pressed tightly together as you lifted your hand.

His eyes snapped open at the light peck you placed on his lips.

Look, look. This might seem dramatic but this was a huge step for him, alright?

You blinked, nervous about what he might be thinking, “how was it?”

He seemed to be dazed, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes that were fixed on him.

Nothing could stop the surprised gasp you let out when he suddenly latched onto you and kissed you much more firmly, not letting you move away with his hand at the back of your head.

Your breathing was rapid when he finally let you go, your face heating up when he poked his tongue out and swiped it along his bottom lip.

“I think I might actually like this more than I thought I would.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa imagines

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naphis-twewy-screams · 3 years

Text

damn.... i still haven't gotten over the neo:twewy ending:

holy hekk everything was just so good-

it took me

2 and a half days to beat the game

i started playing it as soon as it came out

and i barely slept while playing because i wanted to just binge it

and i wasn't expecting a lot of the stuff that happened-

so i just took a bit to process everything lol

here's some random incoherent all over the place rambles about my thoughts on everything since i just wanna express my feelings towards this game

it's *really* long and also heavy spoilers so imma put it under a read more:

i remember screaming when beat showed up

cuz i was already suspecting that hooded man wasn't neku

i mean cmon man neku isn't blonde and bones aren't really his style so it was pretty suspicious to me

and beat was a welcomed surprise i was so happy to see him-

i wasn't surpised when minami left the party

i was guessing that it was gonna happen since that's how it went in the past game

with having to change partners and all that

but beat staying with the group was something i wasn't expecting!

and it was obvious that shokie was gonna join the twisters like she's on the cover and everything it seemed pretty obvious to me

even the whole "oh shoka is swallow" thing i guessed pretty early on

i was still pretty happy when i turned out to be right though

oh my lord nagi's obsession with sho was hilarious to me

almost every time he was on screen you could just see her portrait gazing at him it was really funny to me

motoi's reveal of being kinda selfish wasn't thqt big of a surprise

but i was still pretty sad about it cuz he was really nice before and poor rindo man-

his death was also pretty depressing

fuya's death didn't affect me as much tho tbh

i never really liked the guy and there wasn't really much about him that i knew

though his death was a bit scary

even though i expected it

kanon's death though-

her death made me really sad-

poor fret man he was getting closer to her and they just killed her off-

she was actually a lot nicer than i was expecting

i thought she was gonna be some a-hole who just acted like some big-shot

but no she was actually really nice and was really helpful-

i wasn't actually expecting her to die so i was pretty surprised

and poor fret he went through a lot that day-

i wasn't expecting much from fret

i thought he was gonna be the basic "im the only one that nothing bad really happens to"

but no he has proper character development and sad stuff and honestly i was surprised

probably because my expectations were pretty low

nagi honestly doesn't have as much past stuff going on

but she also has some character development in which she kinda learns more about others

and her relationship with fret was really good!

she started of hating him but in the end they both grew to have a mutual understanding of each other

and i adore that so much honestly

oh ayano-

poor lady just wanted things to be like they've always been

she just wanted to stay with shoka and be happy

she didn't deserve to die-

i thought i wasn't gonna like her or shoka

but i ended up liking em both a bunch-

found family falling apart really hurts ;;;

i thought i wasn't gonna like shiba

but i actually ended up liking him a bit at the end

kubo on the other hand

i thought i wasn't gonna like him

and now i like him even less

he smells

i don't really know how to feel about haz

he's pretty mysterious and i don't really know much about him yet

he gives off josh vibes though

which i don't know if that's a good sign

nekuuuuu

i thought he wasn't gonna be in the game so when i saw him i started screaming-

it was 5 am and i was yelling about my boi nekuuuuu

i was so happy to see him i missed him so much-

i definitely wasn't expecting the whole "oh yeah im teaming up with coco" thing though

cuz coco literally *shot* him but ok-

also wasn't expecting tsugumi to be friends with coco but hey i ain't complaining-

i remember being really estatic when they showed a part of rhyme's portrait in that one scene

same goes for shiki

and i was even more happy to see them entirely like finally the group is back together again-

even josh showed up which damn has his personality barely changed why did you just teleport shokie somewhere random like that??

i mean yea you revived her but still dude she's gonna starve out there i mean she's fine now but still-

anyway-

shiki just knowing neku was there even though she couldn't see him that hurts man-

ngl i was kinda hoping to see eri or somethin

but oh well lol we still got the other girlbosses so it's chill and im still very happy

susy k was a pretty interesting character

i thought i wasn't gonna like him but here we are

uzuki and kariyaaaaa

was really glad to see em again

their interactions with the ogs was really funny to me cuz they barely remembered the poor reapers and it was just really cool lol

the fact that even they have like a lil bit of character development was really neat to see cuz i was pretty much just expecting them to just sit in a corner and do nothing but that wasn't the case so im happy

the whole time travel is bad actually was a really interesting twist!

poor rindo though he suffered so much-

the whole tsugumi showing visions to rindo and neku was also pretty cool

and i got one of the secret reports (the 3rd one) and

are these written by mr h?

i'd be pretty happy if they were cuz he's nowhere to be found right now in the game and i miss him

i remember not knowing how to get the legendary outfit set that you were supposed to get from preordering the game

turns out i had to quit and re-enter

which by the time i found that out i was already at the start of week 3 without quitting the game even once

so i got pretty annoyed but oh well at least i still got it lol

when i got the preorder bonus outfit

i immediately gave them to beat because i thought that to be a funny choice

until neku came along so i then gave the clothes to him because well they're his clothes and im sad

but yea that was a thing

the soundtrack is a bop i don't think ill ever grow tired of it honestly

it's so good and just aaaaa-

oh yea and another day was pretty funny

i love the mention of tin pin since that was a big thing in twewy's another day and it's just really cool to me

which reminds me of when reaper creeper was mentioned in week 3

that was also really neat

i think

im running out of things to say

took me long enough

ok that's all for now

ill try and post some fanart soon maybe?

if i ever get the motivation to do so lol

or maybe ill be back to ramble if i realize that i forgot something

toodles!

#naphi screaming #neo twewy #neo the world ends with you #neo twewy spoilers #neo the world ends with you spoilers #major neo twewy spoilers

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terra Week Day 5 (Time/Hobbies)

Summary: The day sucks when you fight with your best friend. It's true and it's a lie when they say time heals everything, but at least Terra ends the day knowing it's worth the effort. | Word Count: 5,814

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 5

Let not your fears unrope, Time does not wait for hope

A sliver of light leaks out through the cracked-open doorway; the lanterns in this hall are being replaced, making that one room into a halo. Naminé confirms they’re inside, but before Terra gets close, she grabs his elbow, a tiny hand barely able to wrap halfway.

“You’re going to tell them the truth?” she whispers.

“Only them,” Terra says, putting on the sweetest, most encouraging octave he has in his arsenal. “I can’t lie.”

She takes a moment, and nods to herself. “That’s okay.”

Smiling, Terra pets her, careful not to mess with her hair. “Thank you. Thank you a thousand times and more.”

But she frowns for what is probably the thousandth time in her short life, amidst more to come. “If it gets difficult for you, please let me know. Please don’t wait.”

Approaching the door, Terra hears voices pitter and scoff:

“What else do you want me to do?” asks Aqua, just a mile short of fed up.

“I don’t like this,” Ven says, lacking confidence. “Any of it. This is weird.”

“I don’t like it either,” Aqua says, now several inches, “but we need these clues.”

“Would you listen to yourself?”

“I’m not being unreasonable.”

Terra opens the door, his unspoken announcement a hush over what looks like an office. Aqua has layers of journals stacked on the desk, one of them open with Ven’s hand splayed across both pages, like he’s trying to shield her eyes from the content. That wasn’t what Terra had in mind when he asked Ven to stall, but whatever.

They shift as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Terra sees why standing tall behind them: a huge painting of himself (except not), with waxy, white, shoulder length hair (ugh), and a grim expression that couldn’t have come from him (because it doesn’t) but it’s his face anyway (but is it?). A mannequin captured in time via portrait, serious and bored and looking away, looking towards a manufactured future, looking towards anything else except the one person carefully and admirably crafting the brush strokes.

At the very least, it’s less unsettling than seeing Xemnas speak and move.

“That’s creepy,” Terra says, trying to melt the ice but it makes them jump. Aqua in particular looks miserable, giving the painting a cold shoulder.

“This whole castle is creepy,” Ven says, letting go of the book. “I can’t wait to go home.”

“If you let me read,” Aqua snaps, crossing her arms, “we can leave sooner.”

Ven eyes a conversation with Terra. She’s crazy, what do expect me to do?

“We don’t have to do anything,” Terra says gently, closing the journal with delicacy so it doesn’t set her off.

“You, too?”

“I know where Rainfell is.”

Ven runs a hand through his hair, and Aqua stares.

“You—?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

She’s hopeful, which is a good start but Terra is suddenly nauseous again, one step away from tumbling down a cliffside. Ven whimpers, taking a chair nearby.

“I…” There isn’t an artful way to say it, so he’s going to rip the bandage right out. He starts by pulling it out slowly, and all the hair underneath. “I was with Naminé. Just now.”

Her eyes widen.

He swallows. “And she helped me see.”

Aqua’s lips tremble. She walks to the door, shoes tapping loudly on the carpet, the only sound in this room, and closes the door to give them privacy—though she’s never been the type to yell. She comes close to Terra as if to whisper to him, pinching two fingers together to fish out exactly what words she wants to use. Ven holds his breath.

“Who asked you to do that?” she says, icy.

Terra keeps it low and soft with her. “I just wanted to protect you.”

Again, she crosses her arms. “I need protection?”

Terra scoffs, wincing. “Not like that. I know that. You know me.”

“And you know me.” She exhales, inching closer, getting quieter. “I didn’t walk through darkness for all those years just to lose you again.”

“But I’m here.” He purses his lips.

With a clawed hand, she taps his chest. “Something could have happened to you.”

“Aqua, come on,” Ven whines, “he was trying to help. He’d never intend to hurt himself.”

She steps back as if reeling from a slap to the face. Aqua’s not the kind who likes to cry, either, holding her chin so high she’s looking at the ceiling, like balancing a bowl of water so that tears don’t spill.

“That’s not fair to say to her,” Terra says, but she tenses up.

“And why couldn’t I be there?” she asks, both to Terra and Ven. “Is it because you were afraid of what I would say?”

Terra chooses not to answer that. “I really didn’t want you to worry.”

“Is it because you need to prove yourself?” She simmers down. “You don’t have to with me.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“I needed to do something,” Terra says, gently. “After everything, I… I couldn’t stand to see you do”—he gestures towards the journals—“this. I couldn’t stand the thought of you carrying those images, or thinking about whatever he wrote in there.”

She holds her breath, collecting everything she’s laxed back. “Tell me the truth. Are you punishing yourself?”

“No...”

“I trust you, Terra. I hope you know that.”

Terra closes his eyes, muscles gripping on his neck. He nods. A flash of hurt pierces her eyes and he wants to stop that. It’s not her fault for worrying. She’d tell him it’s not his fault for running away either, despite the blame he deserves.

“What kept me going all those years was us.” With a finger, she connects a line between him, her, and Ven. “It’s supposed to be the three of us, as one. We could have been there with you. You could have trusted me.”

“I agree with her on that one,” Ven says, picking his cuticles.

Now, Terra is the only one dancing in the room, Aqua tired of the rhythm and Ven stuck in an unwilling game. Xemnas was accurate in mocking him for it. Stars.

“I’m sorry,” Terra says, flexing his shoulders. “You’re right, I should have said something.”

Ven makes a noise that says he’s rolling his eyes.

“And Ven was right in sending Riku after me,” Terra continues, ruffling fingers through Ven’s hair and frizzing out the spikes. “Thanks.”

Ven swats his hand away, frantically brushing through his hair. “I’ll forgive you for ruining it this one time.”

Aqua sighs. “Was it dangerous?”

Terra considers the question and draws a long smile. “I’ll tell you all about it if you promise not to stop me before I finish.”

And she considers him in return. For all the years they’ve grown together, they know when it’s time to take their words to heart. He knows her and she knows him. “As long as you’re okay, then I guess I’m fine.”

Terra chuckles. “To be honest, I would have felt more guilty if I didn’t go through with it.”

She shakes her head, a worried grimace pulling at her lips. “Please don’t do this again.”

“I won’t.” Terra traces an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

She snorts. “That’s so morbid.”

“It’s to the point.” He grins. The painting, on the other hand, is apathetic to the home they make together in this room. So ugly. “How could you stand to be in here with that?”

“They treat it like a treasure,” Ven says, sticking his tongue out.

A knock on the door interrupts them, jolting Aqua. “He’s here,” she says. Terra asks her a muted question with a raise of his shoulder, but she commands proper behavior with a wave of her hand (she’s so much like the Master sometimes).

A tall, older man with a beard greets her from the other side of the door. She responds with a joy to her hello, like they’re old friends.

Ven leans forward with his neck to see. Terra nearly chokes.

Ansem the Wise. Terra doesn’t know this man, he doesn’t know this man, so there shouldn’t be a reason why being near him is like inhaling fumes.

“As promised,” Ansem says, his voice so deep it melts rock, “tea.” He has with him a steaming pot and four mugs on a wheeled cart.

Aqua holds her hand to her chest. “That’s right, I told you.”

“Raspberry tea if you were to ever see the light of day again.” He steps inside. “With a touch of vanilla and a generous serving of honey. I made sure to keep it all proportionate.”

Bile builds up in Terra’s throat.

“I know your face,” Ansem says to Terra.

It’s acidic when he swallows back down. Terra crosses his arms and locks them there. He can barely bring himself to look at this man in the eyes.

“Welcome to my castle,” Ansem says, filling all four cups. Aqua takes hers and Ven stands up for his share.

“Thank you,” Terra says to the rug.

“This is your first time here.”

“Not in the city.”

“Ah.”

Footsteps circle around Terra. Ansem takes the largest chair behind the desk while Ven moves the other two across, one of which Aqua accepts. He leaves the other empty for Terra, as though sitting down is the closest thing to a peace offering he can give.

But why a peace offering? It shouldn’t be necessary. Terra doesn’t know this man.

“I’m sorry,” Terra chokes, taking his seat. “I’m being rude.”

“There isn’t a need for apologies,” Ansem says. His intense eyes are slow to warm up, and his smile is a squeaky wheel needing some maintenance. He’s like the Master in that way, very professional. But the Master’s smile came more often and more naturally—it just hid behind the mustache, confusing anyone who didn’t know him into thinking he was more intimidating than he was. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Terra.”

“I’m not a Master.”

Aqua grips the cup on her lap tighter. Ven stands by her, one hand on the backrest and the other balled into a fist.

“Oh, I apologize.”

“No need to.”

Ansem clears his throat, sipping his tea with more noise than necessary. This man raised others. He had built a loyal team and forgave them for their betrayal, playing no role in what Xehanort did. Now he’s working on improving the lives of others.

But he committed harm. Terra doesn’t know what or why.

Aqua doesn’t seem to hold that opinion as she compliments the flavor. Two people from two different worlds who crossed paths in their torture and punishment. Terra has to be grateful she wasn’t alone for some of that.

“I want to extend my gratitude,” Ansem says, and Terra shifts in his chair. Too often it feels like his mind is being read. “For coming. It brings me joy to see you here.”

Terra still has arms woven together, and he hugs himself tighter. It’s like a distant father welcoming a child he hasn’t seen grow up. But Terra already had his own Master, his own father figure. Silver linings, I guess. My face brings somebody joy today.

“I do hope,” Ansem continues when Terra doesn’t say anything, “the painting does not offend?”

“It does,” Terra says and regrets it. He shakes his head. “You can keep it, though.”

“Terra,” Ven warns, little and quiet but Terra is sure Ansem has heard.

Another knock on the door prevents Terra from saying more, but thank the stars there’s someone there to distract them.

“That would be Even,” Ansem quips, groaning as he stands.

Terra hears a small snicker—Aqua is hiding a smirk behind her hair. “He’s a character,” she whispers, wrinkling her nose to shake out the contortions of her amusement and present herself as respectful.

Even. No, there’s not a face to that one either, but Terra doesn’t have to wait to see.

A character he is, a skeptical perma-scowl as though he’s spent years giving a mountain of complaints and his face froze that way. Clean, oily hair and a chin that would be difficult to shave. He talks animatedly when Ansem opens the door, sputtering about science experiments with words Terra’s never heard before. One of his eyes bulges out every time he has a shock.

“I must insist,” Even says to whatever they’re mumbling about, his voice a natural shrill. He approaches the desk with broad strides as his lab coat floats behind him. Tucked under his arm is a thick clipboard and a thicker binder of paper, his posture as straight as a pin.

Opening his binder, Even flips through the top of the stack, calculating which ones to pull out and dropping them at the surface of the desk. They’re streaked with highlighted areas where signatures are needed. No quips about Terra’s face or stares. If anything, he treats Terra and the others like strangers.

Terra appreciates that.

“It’s good to see you again,” Aqua says after clearing her throat.

It takes a beat for Even to register. “A pleasant surprise in return,” he says, his tone well-mannered but the words are slow as if he’s unpracticed with them—a far cry from the expert who walked in.

“This is Ven and”—she nods over—“Terra.”

Even takes several moments to nod at Ven before looking at Terra for several seconds longer. Terra expects him to say something about the likeness of the painting behind them, but all Even says is, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ven blocks a snort. It turns into a constricted cough that he tries to hide behind his hand.

And with that, the conversation seemingly stops as Ansem sits back down and Even starts a lecture about subjects and the physiology of an older woman in a neighboring district, the adjustment of carbon and whether data can be downloaded via oxygen transfer.

“I promise we will cover these topics,” Ansem says with a palm up that stops Even before he can really get into the nitty-gritty. “But first, I insist we speak about my request.”

Even inhales (for a long time) before crossing his hands over his binder. He shifts his posture as though to address Terra, but he says nothing.

“May I ask for a small favor?” Ansem asks Terra.

Taken aback, Terra blinks. A muscle deep in his chest wants to yank away and strike back, sharp and poisonous. “Sure.”

Ansem pulls one of Xehanort’s journals and flips through, reverently stopping at a page and letting it float on top of the other. “I had never once suspected anything amiss.” With your body is what he isn’t pointing out. “If I had known...” Ansem nods to himself. Who knows what he could have done if he did. “I ask for peace of mind.”

With that, Even smiles to himself. Surprisingly, it’s soft.

“Okay?”

“If you please.” Ansem turns the journal to Terra. This page is mostly equations and diagrams, with one sentence written on the top. “May I ask you to transcribe this?” He also hands Terra a pen.

The sentence in question reads:

The soul is but breath, the face its language, the heart its warmth.

The handwriting is carefully crafted, the loops in the E’s and A’s artfully asymmetrical with equal amounts of ink spared for every letter. This will be easy to prove it isn’t Terra’s.

“Yeah,” Terra says, smiling. At least the content isn’t horrible. If anything, it sounds like something he would have learned in class years ago.

He takes the pen and writes right under it, noticing the date at the top right-hand corner—this was written eleven years and eight months ago, four months after Terra lost his body. But supposedly, this was done with Terra’s clumsy hand and thick fingers anyway. Time is not friendly.

Terra scratches the surface of the paper as he strikes the page, his A’s never fully formed and looking like U’s, and his E’s all different sizes, coming together in a sentence as choppy as waves with ink jabbed in some punctuation.

When he hands the journal back, Ansem studies it with fingers to his lips before looking up at Even for reassurance.

“This proves what I have suspected,” Even says softly, the subject clearly sensitive to Ansem the Wise. “You positively could not have noticed. The calligraphy is entirely disparate.” He points to make comparisons.

“You study calligraphy?” Terra asks, and there’s a tick in Even’s shoulders as if he’s already forgotten they were in the same room.

Even inhales. That must be his coping mechanism, but when he starts, there’s a subtle travel to the distance he builds. He’s excited to talk about it. “The study of penmanship as a device for human psychology makes remarkable and accurate descriptions of different personalities. It’s fascinating.”

“That’s interesting.”

“And what hobbies do you enjoy in your spare time?” Ansem asks, placing the journal down, more at ease.

Put on the spot, Terra’s mind goes blank. It takes Ven nudging him the shoulder to respond. “Whittling wood, I guess.”

One of Even’s eyes bulges out and Ansem chuckles. Terra gets it. It’s not something any of them can imagine Xehanort doing. Instead, he’d (play chess). Just like the Master. Terra sees an image of (Vexen) in a long, black cloak, cross-legged on a white lounge chair, resting his chin on his hand and staring hard at pieces before him. Not that Terra knows a Vexen, but it comes to him as brim as a memory, as though they’ve only played together last year. As pleasant as it seems, it makes Terra nauseous just to know. Maybe tea would have helped, but his cup sits on the wheeled cart, having lost its steam.

“On to why you are here,” Ansem says, closing the journal and pressing against the cover, shutting the door to one life. “I assume you would need assistance in finding Master Aqua’s lost Keyblade. I can surely confirm one was with Xehanort when we found him.”

Aqua, who’s been swirling her mug of tea, sits up at the sound of her name.

“I don’t need much help, actually,” Terra says. “I know where it is.”

Even leans forward, bending over the desk to study Terra’s eyes. All he would really need is a magnifying glass. “Peculiar. You carry with you a record of those memories?”

Terra won’t mention Naminé’s involvement. That girl deserves time to herself. “Yep.”

Ansem leans back onto his chair, his brows furrowing. “Where did he keep it?”

Terra doesn’t know. But he does. “Downstairs.”

Aqua and Ven glance over at him. Even straightens himself. Ansem huffs. Downstairs. It’s such a weighted word.

“Even is the only one willing to venture down there,” Ansem says.

“I may be of assistance,” Even says, bringing his binder to his chest. “Master Ansem—”

“I know what this means.” Ansem grunts when he stands up, folding his hands behind him and turning his back on whatever will come next. He takes Even’s papers with his abrupt leave. “I thank you again for the visit,” he says to Terra and Aqua.

Something about his shame unnerves Terra, reminding him of his own many years ago when he started a whole, brutal journey for himself and his friends (if only he stayed behind and congratulated her on her Mark of Mastery). In his desire to make everyone comfortable, he sees something else: by a window to a sunset and a flower garden down below, another chessboard competes with an open book and a hot mug of tea for space on the table. Terra stands up.

“Thanks for having me,” he says, and it sounds as stupid as the waver in his voice. All that needs to be said will remain unspoken, he realizes, the glacier in this room needing months to melt. “We can play a round the next time I come? Chess? My Master taught to be good at it.” It may be invasive to ask, but when he sees Ansem relax, he can take comfort in the small solace of whatever good they shared twelve years ago.

Aqua smiles up at Terra, her tea finished.

“I would like that very much,” Ansem says, nodding off to Ventus. “This one minds his manners.” He shuts the door behind him.

“As opposed to who?” Ven asks the room, but no one replies.

“It will be this way,” Even says. He takes the painting down as if it’s weightless, as if it doesn’t have any relevance to anybody here. Aqua stands up like rubber plucked, her hands folded into each other. The anticipation kills Terra, too. Finally, they’ll be done with this exhausting day.

He doesn’t see what Even’s doing to the wall, but it vanishes, opening up to a hallway. Where it begins. They follow him to a personal computer room, which sits in an alcove overlooking an enormous factory stacked with huge glass pods, like vials but big enough to fit an adult.

Neither of them ask what those are about, not even nosy Ven, who’s been too quiet lately. Terra can almost feel why, like whispers of ghosts. It’s for the best they don’t speak about this factory. Spoken words confirming what lived in those prisons would be the straw to give them all nightmares.

“How old is this castle?” Ven asks Even.

“Radiant Garden is the flagbearer of light,” Even says, operating keys on a giant computer as big as the wall itself. This they already know. It has been for decades, a golden chalice that all Keybearers of the past have visited. “The castle was built millennia ago, reformed by remnants several years after the Collapse of Fairytales.”

Ven should know this already, but he winces as though he’s been lied to. “Are you sure?”

“Ven,” Aqua hisses. “This is his home, and that is rude.”

But Ven isn’t convinced. “It just feels weird around here,” he mumbles. “And the basement?”

Even doesn’t answer the specific question, but says, “We’ve made arrangements to seal it off completely.” He pulls out a disc from his binder. The sight of it—it’s so familiar and so ugly. Slipping it into the computer, Even types a password (ANOTHER), which prompts him to enter several more, all hidden behind what look like stars.

Names of apprentices, starting with Xehanort. There’s Even, Dilan, Ienzo, Aeleus, and… Braig.

Braig. Terra knows that face for sure. Word has gotten out he disappeared after the Keyblade War, quite possibly done for. Good riddance.

There’s a whir and a bang somewhere close by but far away, the twist of a lock unlatching.

“Shall I accompany you downstairs?” Even asks. He says ‘downstairs’ like it’s a typical basement. It must take strength to face your crimes head on. He’s got guts.

“No, thank you,” Terra says at Ven’s expense, who’s fidgeting more with every second. “I think I can lead the rest of the way.”

Even eyes his binder resting on the terminal, removing the disc as it’s spit out. “I suppose that is practical. You won’t necessitate my presence if the doors open for you… in actuality, one of those doors is meant only for Xemnas. If it opens, please inform me.” He picks up after himself, pausing twice before continuing. “If that is the case… I would ask that you allow me to study your body afterward. We can schedule appointments—”

“What does that mean?” Aqua asks, stepping by Terra as if bracing to shield him. “What kind of studies? Will they cause him harm?”

Even gasps before chuckling. The whole scary-scientist mask is a facade; he just doesn’t bother with painted smiles or with attempts at making other people comfortable. A take-him-as-he-is kind of person. “Not at all. Merely some blood tests. Perhaps a scan of his heart at the most invasive. If the doors open, then that would suggest some unusual attributes which would be helpful in our restorative work.”

Aqua opens her mouth to say something, but she stops when she notices Terra smiling gently at her. They pass a silent conversation, one where she knows to let him go despite her worries, and one when he hears her and lets her know it’s okay. She nods and steps away to give Ven comfort.

“It’s part of her charm,” Terra says to Even when she’s far enough. “But sure, I’m game.”

“Perhaps we can play a round, as well,” Even says.

“Of chess? That will be fun.”

“Most indubitably.”

Even gives them limited instructions in accessing the basement—the rest, he says, is intuitive and simple. It starts at the base of the empty factory, where a trap door reveals a winding spiral ramp down that disappears into a black pit. It’s going to take a while.

“This looks like a tacky scene from a crime novel I’ve read,” Aqua says, her arms crossed for comfort with her head held high and a sharp sniff through her nose.

“This is weird,” Ven mumbles, sounding more sick than usual. Terra checks his temperature with a palm to the forehead, but Ven seems fine and unaware of what Terra is doing, totally transfixed with how dark it is down there.

It’s a long descent, some passed in quiet, and if not, with small talk about the architecture, the humidity getting thicker the more they take steps. Light travels far down here, but it’s unnatural, an artificial lamp used to show the trespasser the way and keep them from tripping and breaking necks, like an undetectable odor.

The more they descend, the heavier Terra feels, like tar soaking his hair too much and the weight of it pulling on his scalp. Like cement filling his stomach and it takes more strength to drag his feet. Like lead shackled to his ankles and he just wants to hoist himself over the railing and fall all the way down. Let’s get this over with.

Then the memories hurt.

He doesn’t get a say in which one comes to him: one of a man he does not recognize sitting on a red couch, fingers crossed and fumbling, lips mumbling, eyes trembling, confessions of a secret he carries deep in his heart and Terra doesn’t know what the secret is but he knows it’s guilty. Will you help me get rid of it? this man asks. And Terra replies with, Yes.

Another of Braig (of all people), setting up machinery and needles.

Another of Ansem the Wise (again and again), erasing sentences on a chalkboard, sipping tea late in the night. Work and work, chemical smells and bubbling tonics and hearts placed in jars.

It’s not fair. After all he went through, he deserves one of the Master. He wills himself to think about Eraqus. What comes is the feeling of sand in his mouth and there’s a beach far away that looks like Destiny Islands but Eraqus isn’t there. Eraqus isn’t in any of these. Time is a picture, a flash of light and then an image printed on love and worry, cycling in one direction. It’s like death in that way. It’s not kind. Even in the desire to replay memories over and over, time is apathy. It’s never re-lived. Never reversed.

“Are you doing okay?”

Aqua has stopped, Ven far in the lead like he’s magnetized. They may be halfway down, but it’s hard to tell.

“Sure,” Terra says, unable to say more. His muscles are stiffening as if he’s cold, his knees tightening as if he’s aging. He doesn’t know, he knows. He doesn’t see but he feels. Down there is a realm of darkness handcrafted by scientists. A modern kind of darkness, expelled and sanctified and sterilized.

Aqua rests her hand on his shoulder blades. “I want to say you don’t have to do this—”

“But I have to.”

She doesn’t soften. “We’re almost there,” she says, like when Ven got sick and they had to hunt for a specific herb in the forest, the Master staying behind to brew the right potion. Like when they were taught in class that duty comes first and Terra had asked Aqua if she’d ever fight him in the name of it. When Terra looks down, like she’s a real light guiding his way, he sees a door at the bottom when it once was nothing. They’re almost there. A set of double doors in a single circular room and nothing else, a secret tucked deep in what felt like a canyon to hike down.

Ven runs ahead. Instinctively, Terra wants to cry out, watching that head of blond hair rushing up to the door, a miner’s canary at the mouth of the cave just before it stops breathing.

“I can’t open it,” Ven says when he tries to pry them open with his fingers.

“You can’t because you’re not supposed to be here,” Terra says, sluggishly walking forward. Aqua keeps a firm hand on him, as if to catch him if he falls. The door seems designed to sense him—when he comes near, it opens. Just like Even suspected. A wave of heat passes over him, giving him a long, white hallway with a military of doors and chains on both sides.

Ven lurches backward as if inhaling in a horrid stench, his eyes seeing something that isn’t there. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Aqua asks.

“You don’t feel that?” Ven is waving his arms as if shooing something away. “It’s awful. This whole castle is awful and… old. So old.”

That doesn’t make any sense. There’s an odd feeling to the hall, yes—a toxic atmosphere from too many chemical experiments, too much darkness dampening the ceiling and sweating down the walls. “This level was only built a decade ago, Ven.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he whines. “What are they not telling us? What else is this castle hiding? What happened here?”

Aqua leads Ven away, shushing his pleads (Please, don’t go in there). It’s like he’s hallucinating, forgetting where he is or what time has settled this fate on them. She bends to her knees to calm him down, Terra stupefied.

“You still okay?” she asks Terra after sitting Ven down at the bottommost step.

No, he isn’t. “It kind of smells bad here. You?”

“It’s cold.”

To him, it’s hot.

“We’re going in, Ven,” she says, who has his arms wrapped around his knees.

“It’s just at the end of this corridor,” Terra says softly, not out of fear but out of exhaustion, his heart about to give in at any second with the swell of information christening his brain like a thick cement. He should have taken Naminé’s advice.

The doors in this hallway are barred, just to give the tiniest of merciful crumbs to the prisoners inside by giving them each other. What did they talk about? Nothing comes to Terra’s mind when he wonders. White on white, like the Castle Oblivion Aqua described, pristine and clean and filthy. The rooms are dark inside, but Terra doesn’t dare to look, and Aqua won’t either.

Terra smells acid—formaldehyde maybe, a faint trace of it that gives him a sense of déja vu, despite that he’s never smelled it before and he doesn’t even know what formaldehyde even is.

A scream bounces through the walls. Terra holds his head.

You, but not you.

A soft sob from the room to his left, and he’s nauseous, bile coming up so quick that he holds his mouth.

You, but not you.

A face, a little girl with long black hair, and Terra leans onto his knees to keep himself upright.

You, but not you.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. That is real.

“You okay?”

If he answers, he’ll vomit. He shakes his head.

“Should I go ahead?” Aqua asks softly.

He shakes his head again and moans. It’s just a few more steps. He’ll not think about the memories, not think about the someone asking for water or the hearts stuffed in jars or the recliners with wrist straps. Not think about the monitors and the faces, so many faces, so many little girls in particular and grandmothers who left children behind and the scratching of pen on paper.

There’s a whisper and Terra shuts his eyes so he doesn’t hear what it has to say.

“What’s going on?” Ven calls out. He’s at the edge where the doorway meets the staircase, peeking his head inside, never placing a foot.

“We’re fine,” Terra answers.

Aqua wraps his arm around her shoulders, hoisting him up. Nothing truly stops her.

“Talk to me about anything,” Terra says.

“I don’t know what to say,” she says, surprisingly calm, gazing around the room for the familiar and unfriendly. “It doesn’t feel the same as the Dark Realm, which… I guess you could say commands respect. It’s as old as life. It feels so much like yourself sometimes.”

“We all have Darkness in our hearts,” Terra mumbles, head foggy.

“Yes.” She holds him closer when he sways. “Sadness or anger, Darkness is your mirror. But this place…” Her tone is flaccid and exhausted, as if this place has drained her happiness with a syringe. “This place is sick.”

“I’m sick,” he grumbles. “You can say you told me so.”

“I never said anything.”

“That’s the thing, you never have to say anything, Aqua. You always know the right thing to do.”

Aqua stares holes into the floor, waiting for him to step before she does. “It wasn’t right to push you away.”

And he waits for her to catch up before stepping another. “I wasn’t right at all.”

She squeezes the wrist over her shoulder, a silent acknowledgement without correcting or denying him. “Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispers.

At the end, there stands that door. This one probably answers only to (his) behest, to the touch of (his) palm on the monitor. Yes, that’s right, no one else can enter.

“You would have needed me here anyway,” he says to Aqua, his mouth dry.

It opens to a small round room. Chains link the doorway and the ceiling and around, connecting to a single throne in the middle.

“Why does it look like—?” Aqua hisses. “I don’t understand. What was this room used for?”

“Sitting,” he mutters.

Terra looks up when she stirs, trembling under his arm. Waiting alongside the throne is a color of blue, dull and dusty. Her cracked armor and the quiet patience of Rainfell sitting together, as if Darkness held one star in its hands that needed a little shine, waiting for the right sunrise to give it life.

When Aqua cries, a triumphant peace settles in Terra’s bones. It’s worth it. This is the very best he could ever give.

#kh terra #terra #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #ansem the wise #even #aqua #ahhhh i really liked this chapter #i hope you like too #my fic

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

SNAPE'S GRUDGE

James wasn't giving anyone one second to discuss that bomb of a mess, too scared to hear any kind of answer but the one that had to be true, it just wasn't possible the world would be cruel enough that his friend truly had gone insane in Azkaban. Sirius must have a logical and sound reason for doing this, but the fact that he couldn't come up with one made him read on with more anxiety than possibly any chapter before.

No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night.

"Doubt anyone's going to get any sleep tonight either," Sirius muttered.

They knew the castle was being searched top to bottom again, and they all stayed alert to see if Black had been found this time.

James had to swallow very hard for a moment, still praying with his every fiber that wouldn't happen. He knew Sirius must have a reason for the insane act he'd just pulled, he was clearly of sound mind enough to run for cripes sake, surely he must have been able to escape again!

Harry dearly wanted to ask why they'd all been forced to stay in the Great Hall last time for a lesser problem with Sirius only having attacked the portrait, but this time they weren't leaving. He didn't though, working out for himself the teachers must think the common rooms really were safer this time.

McGonagall did come back to tell that he hadn't.

Despite the scared out of their mind mood for the room, they were all in the proper state to release a breath of relief for what they knew would always be good news to them.

The damage had been done though, and for the next several days they saw security being tightened up around the castle all the more, as the doors to the school had been enchanted to recognize Black,

"Despite the doors lack of security, I still doubt that's how you're pulling it off," Remus rolled his eyes.

and Filch was given the task of filling in every last crack in the wall that not even a mouse could squeeze through.

'Would be useful, if Peter were still around' Sirius mentally sighed, hoping more than anything that if Harry learned anything at the end of the year, it was what really was going on with that story.

Cadogan was fired,

"And good riddance," Harry grumbled, that portrait had done far more harm than good in his opinion by constantly annoying the whole of his house.

and the Fat Lady was put back,

"About time," Lily smiled, which wavered slightly when she remembered why it had been taken down in the first place. She would never really believe Sirius was out to harm anyone at that school, but it still wasn't adding up right what on earth he was doing! No one had the gall to bring it up though, James was still reading in a rather harassed manner and didn't look intent on changing that until he got a solid explanation of what was going on.

with added protection.

"How do you protect a portrait?" Harry mumbled.

His mom looked puzzled herself for a moment, but James was already reading.

Now security trolls had been hired to patrol the seventh floor.

Harry couldn't help a laugh of surprise at what he considered an overkill, considering even after all of this he still didn't feel any impending danger, but he was the only one who did.

Harry did notice that the statue on the third floor hadn't been secured,

Sirius felt the smallest of smiles trying to make an appearance on his face, left over smugness from his years in thinking he and his friends ruled the school through those secret corridors, but it just didn't hold the same pleasure now as it once would have.

and Harry couldn't help asking Ron if they should say something about it. Ron disagreed, saying that a break in at Honeydukes would have been mentioned.

Lily couldn't help herself, now she really did want to know how the boys managed to get past those sensory alarms, so she finally forced a change of subject by asking, "alright, now I'm curious. How were you getting in and out of Honeydukes?" Then she cocked her head to the side and probed further, "and besides that, how were you getting back into the passage without a wand?"

Remus couldn't help but release a surprised burst of laughter at the thunderstruck look on both her and Harry's faces, but Sirius was the one to chip his answer, "Because the sensory alarms they use only work on humans. So long as I snuck in there as a dog, the thing wouldn't go off. As for getting back in though," here he did pause and frown before huffing, "actually, I've got nothing. Suppose I hid out somewhere in the castle until the coast was clear, I still know plenty of nice little hiding holes, and snuck through a window or something from the first floor. Really shouldn't be too hard when no one would actually be looking for a dog*; or maybe I got Remus to open it after the fact. Either could work."

James couldn't stop a light smile of his own making an appearance at such a light topic to him as he commented, "it's really not as hard as you two seem to think it is to get in and out of that place."

Lily couldn't keep a triumphant smile off of her face as she watched the boys theorize a few other means for Sirius to do this, and sat back comfortably when James finally managed to keep going in normal tones.

Harry was happy to have this pointed out, as he knew that if his way into Hogsmeade was blocked off as well he'd never get back into the village.

"Which would be the crying shame of the century," Remus declared in a very serious tone of voice.

Ron had become an overnight celebrity,

"I'll bet he loved that," Sirius snickered lightly, ignoring the horrible wince that wanted to cause. At least someone was getting their kicks out of this.

as people were finally paying more attention to him then Harry,

"I'm sure that was just breaking your heart," James grinned over at Harry, who was smiling pleasantly at how happy he remembered Ron was then. This instant had finally driven Scabbers clear from his mind, it really had been the first time Ron had finally gone a full day without thinking of his pet, then he winced and rubbed at his temple as he so frequently did whenever Scabbers came to mind. Why though? Was he really just trying to remember the rat was still alive? Wouldn't this be a good thing for Ron, rather than leaving a sick feeling in the pit of his gut the longer he thought on this?

as students demanded to hear his retelling of the event which Ron was all too happy to provide.

"Glad someone in your group knows how to," James snickered.

He told how he'd thought at first he had just been asleep when he heard the tearing noise,

Then James smile dried right up when he saw he was clearly going to read exactly what Ron was telling people, something he'd gladly never discuss again until he heard Sirius' real account on the matter.

but then he blinked at the heart stopping image of the convict staring down at him.

James was trying his hardest to get through this as fast as possible, still unwilling to hear anyone's side of the story other than Sirius' himself, because there wasn't any other option. There had to be a logical, understandable reason for this madness!

He'd been holding a knife and preparing to stab when Ron started screaming, and Black made a run for it. Only after the awed students walked off did Ron turn to Harry and follow up with the question of why he'd run at all?

'Probably because he gave me a heart attack, yelling like that' Sirius mentally grumbled, but failed to say anything out loud since he was the last one who really wanted to linger on this.

Harry couldn't help but wonder the same thing, why hadn't Black just stabbed Ron and turned on Harry?

James practically hissed that out through gritted teeth in foul contempt that sentence could exist in any universe, as implausible and stupid as it was.

Harry tried to work it out, saying his cover had already been blown and if he'd delayed any longer then he would have woken up the whole house, then the teachers, he hadn't enough time.

"Humm, there's a logic to the madness," Sirius huffed without any traces of humor.

Neville was in the deepest of trouble.

"That poor thing," Lily cooed.

Sirius couldn't help but wince, now knowing this kid didn't really need his help to get into trouble but feeling bad it had been his fault.

McGonagall had taken away his privilege to go to Hogsmeade,

"Ouch," James winced, knowing from Harry's experience how awful that was going to be, and remembering earlier how hopeful he'd been that this would happen.

given him a detention, and he was no longer allowed to know the password.

"Now how would that work," Remus frowned, "actually that's pretty harsh. It's not like he did it on purpose."

"Guess I really scared the crap out of her," Sirius grumbled.

He had to wait every night among the trolls until someone arrived to let him in.

"That's just-" Lily choked, unable to decide if she was supposed to laugh at the security measures they kept trying to put up against Sirius, or continue grumbling along with the boys how unnecessary it was.

None of this was nearly as bad as the Howler he received.

"Dang," all five of them winced that time, knowing public humiliation like that was the worst form of punishment available.

Harry recognized the scarlet envelope the moment it landed on Neville's plate.

"Yeah, we remember," James shook his head in pity at that remembered incident.

Ron told Neville to make a run for it,

"Sound advice really," Sirius nodded.

and while Neville tried, sprinting out the doors to the echoing laughter of Slytherin's behind him,

"Oh," Lily scowled, "it can't really be that funny."

"I was pointing out Malfoy's group more than anything," Harry shrugged, "and they thought it was a riot."

he didn't get far. The whole hall heard Neville's grandmother magically yelling about how he'd disgraced the whole of the family.

"It's not like he did it on purpose," Lily finally snapped at how outrageous she found that claim. "I highly doubt Neville walked up to him and gave it to him, nor would he consciously leave it lying about!"

"I agree, poor Neville really doesn't deserve all of this," James sighed.

Harry had been watching after him sadly, so at first didn't notice Hedwig until she gave him a nip.

"Yeah, that'll do it," Harry muttered while rubbing at his wrist.

He took her offered letter and opened it as Hedwig began eating some of Neville's cereal.

That at least gave them a random laugh.

It contained the message that Harry and Ron were invited over at six, and in all capital letters to wait at the entrance hall for him to arrive.

"Really James," Lily sighed, "I'm glad that seemed to make you feel better, but it's a letter, you don't need to shout."

James gave her a wayward smile, not really seeming to regret it.

Hagrid signed off the bottom, and Ron got excited all over again as he guessed that Hagrid must want to hear his retelling of Black.

Sirius cocked his head to the side, he didn't really think so honestly, but he wasn't sure what it could be about either.

Lily on the other hand was beaming, more than pleased someone like Hagrid was around just to check up on them and make sure they were okay. She couldn't help but notice how absent Remus had continued to be during this year, surely he could have made an appearance to Harry again about anything, even something as trivial as talking about the next creature in class.

So the time came that they had to sprint past the security trolls,

"Can't honestly blame you," Remus chuckled.

and head down the stairs where they found Hagrid already waiting.

"I can see his point," James snickered a bit, "probably thought they wouldn't wait on him and got there an hour early."

Ron greeted him happily, confirming that Hagrid wanted to hear his account of Black's entrance. Hagrid said no, he'd heard enough about that, and Ron looked rather disappointed.

James looked the exact opposite, more than relieved he wouldn't have to read that all over again.

When they got to Hagrid's place, they found Buckbeak

"Which reminds me," Sirius said, happy for any kind of reason to talk about anything besides himself. "How's that research going on his case?"

Harry's mouth opened with a little pop, then he went bright red in the face.

"Oh, Harry you didn't," Lily moaned as she recognized the shame on his face.

"Err, it was the Firebolt, it err honestly drove Buckbeak right out of my mind, and err-"

"Relax Harry," Remus finally released him from his clearly pent up agitation at himself, "it's not like we blame you for forgetting, honestly I kind of forgot myself until Hagrid wrote you his letter. Fighting with Hermione, Scabbers and that broom, can't really blame you."

Harry still couldn't help but feel insanely guilty, he'd promised Hagrid he would help him and he had let such things drive out a promise to his friend. The others weren't yet sure what to say though, Harry should feel rightfully guilty for this but his actions were understandable for a child his age as well. So they kept silent and hoped Hagrid would have more to say.

on Hagrid's bed, eating some dead ferrets.

Lily crinkled up her nose, still wishing Hagrid would at least feed him that outside.

Looking away from that, Harry instead spotted a truly odd looking suit in Hagrid's size, and asked what the occasion was?

"A really bad and very late costume party I'd hope, but even then it hardly seems fitting," Sirius muttered.

Hagrid explained that it was for his case against the Committee, he'd set up their arrangement with some beds on the Knight Bus,

"I'm sure that'll be a sight for the other occupants," Remus snickered.

and Harry felt a horrible surge of guilt as he realized he'd forgotten all about this.

Harry continued sinking lower into himself the longer this dragged on, continued guilt indeed dragging him around. He was now convinced that if Buckbeak didn't win this case it would be all his fault.

One glance at Ron showed he had done the same, but before they could say anything Hagrid instead said he had something serious to discuss with them.

"Not as serious as I could," Sirius said at once, making James sigh and try to ignore his friend again.

"I swear that joke has popped up more in this book then any others," Remus grumbled with distaste.

When Harry asked what about, Hagrid said Hermione.

That startled all of them, Harry most of all as he'd been expecting Hagrid to tell him off for not helping out more.

Lily began smiling all over again though, relief washing through her as she really did hope now Hagrid was going to straighten these boys out and convince them they were being idiots about how they were treating their friend.

Ron wasn't pleased at the change of topic, but Hagrid told how she'd been down at his place. Ron pointed out that her cat had eaten Scabbers, and Hagrid said back that's just what cats do.

"Thank you," Remus sighed, in full agreement it was high time someone got it through Ron's head he may have been holding a bit too much of a grudge there. No one was arguing he had a right to be mad, but it wasn't something to lose your friendship over.

She'd been crying a bit,

Harry in particular winced horribly at that. He didn't have that many friends really, and now reflecting back on how he had treated her made him feel even worse. Between that and his residual guilt about Hagrid and Buckbeak, he looked so miserable Lily took pity on him and wrapped her arm around him for comfort. Yes, Harry really should feel guilty and she hoped it would teach him a lesson about this in the future, but since it was so clear how he was feeling now she hoped that was just as strong then and decided he was self-punishing enough.

and told them off for how they'd been treating her, making brooms and rats more important than their friend.

James gave Harry a wane smile, more than happy someone had reminded his son of that. He still looked so guilty none of them dared make fun of him for this.

Ron tried to argue back, saying he'd forgive her if she got rid of Crookshanks, but she was still sticking up for him.

"And he shouldn't really blame her," Sirius sighed, "as he'd be doing the same thing if things were reversed."

Hagrid pointed out that people could get a bit blind when it came to their pets, while Buckbeak spit out some bones onto Hagrid's pillow.

"Timing," Lily couldn't help but giggle.

They stayed late at Hagrid's, both boys trying to get in an apology about not helping out more with Buckbeak, which he waved off as he knew how busy they were. They went back to the castle and spotted when the next Hogsmeade trip was going to be. Ron asked Harry if he was still planning on going in?

"Course he's going," James scoffed, "he still hasn't got a reason not to!"

Harry was agreeing he would when Hermione made her appearance, already looking upset at the overheard conversation.

"Somehow, I think that apology they owe her isn't coming," Sirius sighed as he had a very bad feeling that yet another fight was fixing to break out instead.

She threatened that if Harry went again, she'd tell McGonagall about his map.

"What?" They all snapped.

"Damn Hermione, that's taking it too far," James scowled.

Lily sighed, she really wanted to agree that Hermione was being overtly paranoid, but decided enough was enough and put her foot down and truly defended her this time. "Alright you lot," she snapped before anyone else could say anything. "I'm sorry Sirius, but think about this from her position for a second. You've just gotten into the common rooms, the most secure part of the castle, you can't really sit around and blame her for being worried about Harry being so exposed in the open now. If it was anyone but you, you'd all agree Harry should stay in the castle where it's safe as well."

The boys hesitated before sighing and admitting that fine. The point was they weren't afraid of anything bad happening so they were looking at it another way, but decided harping on Hermione wasn't going to help.

Ron pretended he hadn't even heard.

"Harsh," Remus muttered with a wince.

Hermione still tried, saying Ron was being an idiot after Black had nearly killed him, and she was going to tattle if they didn't stop! Ron jumped that she was going to get Harry kicked out of school!

"They sure toss that word around a lot," James sighed, "but if we got expelled every time we'd snuck out of the castle we'd have set some sort of record by the end of first year."

"I still wouldn't want to get into trouble," Harry reminded, "nor would I want to be asked how I'd gotten in and out."

Hermione wasn't going to back down, until her cat jumped on her lap. Hermione froze up, before scooping him into her arms and bolting upstairs.

"Almost a good thing," Sirius couldn't help but sigh, "that conversation just couldn't have ended well."

Ron kept going like Hermione had never been there, pointing out that Harry hadn't even gotten to see Zonko's last time.

"An actual crime against your age," James nodded seriously.

Harry agreed he'd still go, but he was taking the Cloak.

"Glad you learned that lesson," Sirius approved.

The next morning Harry made it as clear as possible he was waving goodbye to Ron and heading back to the tower with a watchful Hermione's eyes on him.

"You gotten any better at that," Remus snickered, "because you still don't have a very good poker face."

"I've no idea if it fooled her," Harry said with a shrug, dearly hoping it had as he didn't really want to get caught or told on.

He called out a last farewell to Ron, who winked as he passed.

"Subtle," Sirius snorted.

He made to sneak away and go to the statue, when he ran into Neville.

"Damn," they couldn't help but curse, finding that some pretty bad timing.

"Don't suppose you'll just invite him," Remus sighed without any real hope.

"I doubt it," Harry shook his head.

He spotted Harry and said he'd forgotten Harry couldn't go to Hogsmeade either.

"I kind of want to know what he was even doing around there," James sighed, it wasn't a place students normally visited without knowledge of where they were going, especially on off days.

Then he offered to play a game with Harry, who quickly lied and said he had a homework assignment over vampires for Lupin due.

"Jeesh Remus, you know you really could go a lesson without assigning homework," Sirius sighed.

"At least it wasn't two rolls of parchment," Harry smirked.

Neville eagerly asked to join, saying he hadn't finished his either.

"I feel so bad for Neville," Lily frowned, "he obviously wants someone to hang out with. Would it really kill you to let Ron alone for the day and be with him."

Harry winced in sympathy. At the time he'd been absolutely focused on getting into Hogsmeade to be with his friend, he'd not even stopped to consider how Neville must be feeling at the time. If he sat around and thought about it now, he probably would go back and just stay with Neville for the day.

Harry had to quickly rethink and say he had in fact finished that essay.

"You're lying has actually managed to get increasingly worse as time goes on," James snickered.

Neville then asked if Harry could instead help him, unclear on the garlic thing and if they had to eat it or what?

"Tsk tsk Remus, how could you not have covered that in class," Sirius mock scolded.

Remus ignored him and turned to Harry, asking, "did you already do your essay?"

"I'd started it," Harry said evasively, most likely meaning he'd written his name on a sheaf of parchment.

Chuckling Remus then said, "well in answer, it only has to be around them to affect them, in fact getting a vampire to eat garlic would be a miracle even if it would kill them."

Harry didn't get a chance to answer as Snape arrived.

"Oh bloody hell," the boys muttered, automatically annoyed whenever he showed up for any reason.

Neville took a step behind Harry.

Lily scowled all over again, her hatred for that reminder never not making her want to get to her feet and give him more than a telling off.

Snape glared at the two, asking why they'd met there? Then his eyes flickered to the statue.

"You know, he did catch us meeting up there quite a bit," James nodded in remembrance, "I can't really say I'm surprised if he's suspicious."

"Still a paranoid arse," Sirius scowled.

Harry tried to say that they weren't meeting there on purpose, they'd just met there.

"Yes, I'm so sure he believed that clarification," Remus snorted.

Snape clearly didn't buy it, telling Harry he tended to be in places he wasn't supposed to.

"As far as he's concerned," Lily scowled, "when have you ever really been anywhere you aren't supposed to be?" She didn't really think he was referring to all of his crazy stunts he'd pulled during last year and the year before, as he probably didn't know much about those then the barest of facts, so his claim was still pretty biased.

"Like that's ever stopped him making snide comments," James huffed.

Then he told them both to get back to their common room.

Harry rolled his eyes that time, growing quite tired of constantly being told he was supposed to spend every waking moment in that tower instead of roaming the castle like every other student.

The two boys walked off, Harry glancing back to find Snape running his hand over the statue's head.

"Like he'll figure it out," Sirius said with confidence. It had taken them doing a favor for one of the paintings just to get a hint, no way could Snape really know.

Harry finally got rid of Neville as he lied and said he'd left his homework in the Library, giving him the password before running off.

"That'll work," Remus sighed, still half wishing Harry would have told him and brought him along, having noted for quite some time it never really mentioned Neville hanging out with any of his friends, but knowing by now it wasn't worth bringing it up to Harry. It seemed all the more harsh since Harry wouldn't be back for hours, and Neville would just feel dumped.

Harry pulled out his map and found Snape down in his office.

"Wish he wouldn't come out of there, ever," Sirius huffed.

He quickly made his way through the proper channels and finished his route to the cellar.

"He's already such a pro," James gave a satisfied sigh, pretending to wipe a proud tear away, though the feeling itself was real.

When he did get there, he had to explain to Ron in a whisper from under the cloak that he'd been held up by Snape. The journey was confusing for Ron as they left the shop, as he constantly whispered where Harry was?

"A fair question," Remus snickered, a few occasions coming to mind of when they'd done something similar, though normally it was for a set up to a prank.

"Though not recommended, otherwise people are going to wonder why you're talking to yourself," Sirius snorted.

They went inside Zonko's,

"One of the most important shops in there," James nodded seriously.

where they found uncountable prank items that would make Fred and George turn green with envy,

"Wouldn't surprise me if they have that store completely memorized," Sirius chuckled.

and each bought a set of items.

"Completely worth it then," Remus agreed.

Then they made their way to the back of the village, towards the Shrieking Shack.

All three boys now had nostalgic smiles creeping across their faces, having spent so many long hours in that place it almost felt as much a home to them as Hogwarts itself.

They got to the top and Ron explained that even the schools ghosts didn't go in there.

"I'm fairly sure that's because Dumbledore asked them not to, once I started hanging around in there," Remus shrugged, "added to the fear factor."

Ron had even heard Fred and George had tried to break in, but couldn't get past any of the windows or doors.

"All the visible ones," Sirius smirked.

"I don't know why they tried," Lily rolled her eyes, "what do they think they're going to find in there?"

"That's the fun of it," James explained, "finding out."

Harry was starting to feel a little stuffy under his cloak, and was just considering taking it off for some air when they heard approaching voices.

"Typical," Remus rolled his eyes.

They didn't have to wait long to find Malfoy,

"Gah," Sirius ground out in frustration, "what the bloody hell is with their rotten timing."

and his two friends coming up, talking loudly about how Malfoy's dad should be sending him a letter soon telling how the trail went their way, and he'd been there to testify on his son's behalf for not having his arm for months.

Sirius scowled and grumbled something, still unable to believe anyone could be so intent on getting one guy in so much trouble. What had Hagrid ever done to this kid?

Crabbe and Goyle laughed.

"Trollishly, with absolutely no brains of their own," James continued as if reading that.

"No need for that James, we already knew it," Lily smirked.

Malfoy was lamenting he wished he could have been there in person to watch Hagrid defend him,

"Wish your arse would get expelled for starting this mess," Remus scowled.

when he saw Ron and grinned.

"Well this can't be good," Lily's frown deepened as she assessed this situation. Malfoy thought Ron was up there on his own, and if Harry helped him he'd most likely get caught. This could cause a huge mess.

He laughed when he saw what Ron was looking at, declaring that the old shack looked like a palace compared to the box his family must live in.

Harry ground his teeth together in frustration, dearly hoping he used the opportunity he had in 0hand to get some well-deserved revenge on Malfoy.

Ron looked like he was going to go at Malfoy, but Harry grabbed him,

"Do you ever let your friend have any fun?" Sirius demanded with a pout.

"I'm with Sirius on this one," Remus scoffed in agitation, "he deserves anything Ron would do for that comment."

Harry looked at his mother, expecting her to say something, but she simply shrugged and said, "I'd rather you not get in trouble for what I know you're about to do, but so long as you're not expelled, I agree. It'll be worth it."

James laughed boisterously, nearly bouncing in place at what this could mean.

and whispered to him that he'd deal with it.

"Yes!" All of the boys cheered, more than pleased at the opportunity's this could have.

Harry began sneaking around behind them, eyes on a puddle of mud.

Sirius was practically vibrating in place he was stifling his laughter so much. Harry wasn't even using a spell, which gave him all the more deniability.

As Malfoy continued to mock Ron, Harry scooped up a bit, and chucked with perfect aim as the brown goop landed in Malfoy's hair.

James had to stop reading for several minutes, he was too busy catching his breath back with laughter. This little brat had deserved some retribution for so long now, that this visual image was one he knew he'd treasure for as long as possible. He only kept going because he recognized there was still potential mayhem to come.

Malfoy spun around, demanding to know who'd done that,

"Karma," Lily smirked.

while Ron tried to keep himself upright while voicing how haunted he'd heard this place was.

Remus almost fell off the couch laughing at Ron's very appropriate comment.

Crabbe and Goyle were looking very unsure now, knowing their muscles wouldn't do any good against ghosts.

"Not much use at all really," Sirius said brightly, since neither moron would find their target with Harry keeping the cloak on.

Harry was still busy though, instead walking around towards a puddle of green sludge, and throwing that towards the bullies.

Lily had to keep her hand firmly in lock around her mouth to try and muffle her giggling at the mental image of all of this, while the boys weren't even trying so it was getting kind of hard to hear the rest, which only made James read louder.

The other two got some in the face that time as Malfoy snapped he'd seen it coming from half a dozen feet away from where Harry really was.

Remus tried to make a comment, but he was still laughing to hard and couldn't suck in the air to do so.

Crabbe tried to blunder forward, arms outstretched, but Harry whacked him with a stick forcing him to do a pirouette.

"You're killing me," Sirius wheezed, not looking any kind of upset if this was how he was to go.

Goyle instead tried to turn at Ron,

Lily couldn't help but wince now, she hadn't seen that coming, but didn't even bother to linger on it as she knew Harry wouldn't let his friend get hurt by that thug.

and Harry cut him off by sticking out his leg, which the brute managed to catch the hem of his cloak as he fell.

"Bollocks," the four boys suddenly hissed, most traces of amusement starting to disappear at once. They really couldn't go just one chapter with pure amusement could they?

The cloak almost fell free, revealing Harry's head. Malfoy just stood there for a second, staring,

"Well it was fun while it lasted," James groaned, sinking back into his seat and closing his eyes for a moment, imagining all the horrible outcomes this could cause, before reading on in a grave tone now as he, naively he was sure, hoped nothing to bad would happen because of this.

before screaming,

Remus still couldn't help a lingering snicker at that. Of all the reactions he could have had, screaming in fright like that had to be his favorite.

and running for it with his friends on his heels.

"Well that was fun," Sirius still had a small smile in place. "Don't suppose you can do it again some time."

"I hope so," Harry laughed, his joy at getting his payback to those bullies making up for any punishment he may get. He couldn't really put a finger on it, but he got the feeling whatever punishment it was, wasn't even too bad.

Ron was telling Harry he'd better get back before Malfoy tells what he'd seen.

"Not like anyone would believe him," Lily said without any real hope. One teacher in particular came to mind who would believe anything Malfoy says, and would love to get Harry into trouble.

"As far as they know, Harry has no way to get there. They would think Malfoy was making something up to get Harry into trouble."

"Any other teacher would believe that," James grumbled, knowing the anxious tones in Lily's voice meant she was thinking of Snape being the only exception to that, just like they were.

Harry agreed and called he'd meet up with him later,

"Not even a compliment on how brilliant that was," Sirius sighed, though he personally understood the need for urgency now. Ron could give congratulations later in private.

and ran back to Honeydukes, worrying if Malfoy would believe what he'd just seen.

"Most likely. I'll doubt he's known for his imagination," Remus grumbled.

If he'd tell anyone?

"I can think of one," Harry huffed.

No one knew he had the cloak, except Dumbledore.

"Uhoh," all five of them muttered, having honestly forgotten about that. It was true though, if Snape took this to Dumbledore like he surely would, would the headmaster do something against Harry? Would he take away his cloak even?

Harry was racing along, trying to get back to the castle, wondering how long it would take Malfoy to come across a teacher?

"Not long," Sirius scowled, "since the little brat's probably got the way memorized, all the time he's snitched on other kids."

He reached the end of the tunnel and tucked his cloak away into a corner still inside, deciding if he did get caught he didn't want that to be on him.

"Very good thinking," James praised. If Harry didn't have that on him, even Dumbledore couldn't really prove what Harry had done. Maybe he really would get away with this!

Then he scrambled out and tried to put on an innocent face as he heard someone heading his way.

"Bloody hell," Remus groaned, "couldn't even make it back to the dormitory."

It was Snape.

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Sirius cried in exasperation. "Him! Why would he even go there first, that's not even on the way to Gryffindor tower!"

"Suspicious, nosy, paranoid, git-" James kept grumbling under his breath, and probably would have kept going if Sirius didn't nudge him and say, "and many more mate, but keep going."

Sighing in resignation, James accepted.

Harry did his best to look casual, which may not have been working to well with his red face, which could have been why Snape greeted him with a 'so.'

"So what?" Remus snipped quietly.

He looked quite pleased as he glared down at Harry, who shoved his mud covered hands inside his pocket.

Lily face palmed, not even needing to point out how ineffective that really was.

He told Harry to follow him, while Harry was trying to wipe his hands clean inside his pockets.

"Good luck with that," James sighed without any confidence. He was still trying to console himself that this would have to be taken up with McGonagall before something too bad could be done, and she wouldn't do anything that couldn't be proven. James was confident that she actually couldn't prove he'd snuck into Hogsmeade, so aside from maybe some house points being taken away by Snape for, well being Snape, nothing too bad should happen.

They went to Snape's office,

Lily ground her teeth together in frustration, more than sick of him trying to dole out punishment for Harry when he didn't have anything to do with him.

which Harry had only been in once before when he'd been in serious trouble.

"Well I am always in trouble, but why would you bring it up now," Sirius quipped, smirking wildly and at least making Harry laugh, who hadn't heard the never ending array that joke could be used. Not yet. Give it till the end of his seventh year, maybe by then.

He noticed Snape had gotten his hands on a few more jars filled with things.

"One's probably his own heart," Remus hissed into Sirius' ear.

"He'd have to have one first," Sirius muttered right back, trying to suppress a snicker.

Snape closed the door and told Harry to sit, which he did.

Sirius scowled with the height of distaste, a horrible dog joke coming to mind that made him want to strangle Snivellus all over again.

Snape began by saying that Malfoy had come to him with an odd tale, how he'd been minding his own business out in Hogsmeade when he'd come across Ron, seemingly on his own. Harry said nothing.

"Best recommendation at this point," Lily agreed, rubbing her brows in preparation for what could come.

Then Mr. Malfoy had been having a pleasant chat with Weasley,

Remus couldn't help but grind his teeth in frustration at this continued and obvious favoritism, even in the way he addressed the students.

"A chat," Sirius scoffed in disgust, but James didn't even bother since they were all aware of what a load of bull that was.

when he'd seen something odd. Harry tried to look surprised,

"I get the feeling you could be a prize winning actor and you couldn't convince him of that look," James sighed.

and Snape began glaring at Harry meeting his eyes. Harry tried not to blink, remembering his hippogriff lesson.

"Not a bad comparison, though I still favor the hippogriff," Sirius nodded in agreement.

Then Snape continued that Malfoy had seen Harry's head. Harry tried to put some concern in his voice that maybe he should go up to the hospital wing if Malfoy was seeing things-

The three boys on the couch lost it, cracking up with unrestrained laughter at Harry's attempts to play that off. Lily couldn't help a twitching smile as well, snickers coming through as she really did picture this from some other teachers point of view and how that would sound.

James was quick to get his breath back though, knowing that if Harry could keep this up in front of Snape, he should get out from McGonagall in no time, and just be more careful the next time he went out. Also he realized he owed Harry an apology, that was a beautiful on the spot fib.

Snape cut him off by saying that Harry's head wasn't allowed out there, no part of his body was.

"I didn't know the form was body part specific," Remus was still chuckling in between bits of speech, "maybe someone should specify that."

Harry agreed he was aware, and again voiced Malfoy should be checked if he was having hallucinations. Snape cut him off again, telling him that Malfoy was not the one with the problem as he leaned down into Harry's face.

That dried up most of their humor, each of them scowling at the threat that he needed to back up now on the tip of all of their tongues. He had no right to be getting in Harry's face like that! His bully like behavior was getting progressively worse as the years wore on, and it was ripping at every one of their nerves.

Telling Harry that if his head had been in there, so was the rest of him.

"Now that's just a tad presumptuous," Sirius defended halfheartedly, trying for a smile he no longer felt.

Harry deflected he'd been up in his common room, and Snape demanded if anyone could back that up.

James quickly snapped his mouth shut with worry, his mind quickly flickering to Neville and wondering if he could possibly be convinced to lie for Harry for this very important matter... there was a chink he hadn't thought of. Glancing up at his son, he comforted himself that he still didn't think any of this was bad enough for expulsion. After all they'd been caught out all the time, so there really was no way it would go that far bad. With that slightly comforting thought he kept going.

Harry didn't answer, causing Snape to smile.

"Didn't even know he could form that," Sirius hissed.

He was almost pleased now as he taunted Harry that despite the whole world out there trying to protect famous Harry Potter from Sirius Black, the boy was going to do what he wanted and be damned what came of it.

Lily opened and closed her mouth several times in outrage, so many insults welling up she didn't know where to start! The very first of which was 'stop treating him like James!' While an outsider may be able to see the point Snape was making, his opinion he'd just foisted was completely biased! The other boys were muttering their own foulings, but James was far too used to this kind of thing, no matter how enraged it made him to hear it being thrown at his son, so he forced himself to keep going, wanting to find out the punishment already.

Harry still said nothing, knowing Snape couldn't prove anything.

"There's the bright side," Remus sighed.

Snape was still goading Harry, telling him how much like his father he was.

James gave a wane smile, looking over to his spitting image and stating, "to be perfectly honest, I actually find more of your mother's spirit in you then me, looks aside obviously."

Lily giggled a bit, not at all disagreeing with that statement. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look before shrugging, agreeing out loud with that. Harry clearly did have his father's knack for causing trouble, though not nearly in the same way. In fact if they did pile it up, Harry was a lot like Lily in her school days. Maybe that was what was pissing Snape off more than anything.

How exceedingly arrogant a man James Potter had been,

"Exceedingly is a bit much-" James began, but one snort of disbelief from his wife and James slunk back to the book with only a semichasted look.

how just a bit of prows at the game of Quidditch,

"Now that was just rude," Sirius grumbled, completely ignoring Lily's now rolling eyes.

had made him think he was better than anyone as well. He could always be seen strutting about the castle to his many fans, and just how much Harry truly acted like this.

Remus was torn between wanting to laugh in remembrance of the many times he could count James acting like a loon in front of his peers, what he thought Snape meant, and wanting to defend his friend, so he was left with an odd expression which the others ignored.

Harry snapped back that his dad never strutted!

"Oh yes he did," Lily rolled her eyes with far more affection than her husband ever would have believed coloring her tone in speaking of this. Harry looked mildly startled, but she was still going "but to his credit, his arrogance started to wain out, something I don't think Snape ever noticed."

"At least you did," James smiled over at her, earning a bright curl of the lips right back.

And neither did he!

"Now that I absolutely believe," Sirius agreed.

Snape was getting more pleased now at clearly having pushed Harry's buttons, telling how James Potter had never given anyone who wasn't a Quidditch winner so much as a glance, his head was so big- Harry lost his temper and told him to shut up!

While James had looked mildly annoyed while reading this, it was hardly the most insulting thing he'd ever heard come from this guy's mouth. No, the worst part was him saying this to his son!

Harry didn't know a thing about him, this definitely wasn't some of the things he'd like being boasted around. He kept it bottled up though, pride and glee cracking through when Harry finally cracked and said what needed saying.

Harry was on his feet now, just as angry then as he'd been back on Marge's incident on Private Drive.

"People are taking a lot of shots at you this year aren't they," Sirius grimaced in disgust.

"Least Harry keeps them in their place," Remus pacified.

Harry was honestly surprised, they didn't seem nearly as upset about this as they had that previous chapter, but then he realized that they probably heard this type of thing so often from Snape that it just rolled off of them. Coming from someone like Marge had hurt far worse because of the terrible way she'd slammed it into Harry without ever having even met him.

Snape's hand twitched towards his pocket.

Lily made a 'tch' noise of disbelief, knowing he wouldn't dare raise a wand to her son, or he'd lose that whole arm. Besides, he definitely deserved that one.

Harry didn't back down though, repeating that Snape needed to shut up about his dad! Dumbledore had told him the truth, about how his dad had saved Snape's life.

All three boys twitched with discomfort at that unfriendly reminder, and Harry frowned in confusion. Of course he remembered that coming up during the first book, and how they'd managed to hedge around the question, never having gotten the full story. What about it could be so bad that the three of them looked almost as bad as when he'd thrown that in Snape's face?

James looked the opposite of eager about explaining this, and hoping to forestall Harry asking, kept reading in hopes something else would distract him.

Snape scowled, demanding to know if Dumbledore had told him the whole story? Harry hesitated, and it was enough of an answer for Snape to continue.

James face twisted with even more unease, this was the opposite of what he'd been hoping for. What could he do though? Either he turn and tell Harry now about the worst fight the Marauders ever had, or he let Snape come up with some half-truth that he would have seen which would paint a far more horrible light.

He was still debating, dearly wanting to put this off, when Sirius released a horrible suffering sigh and groaned, "alright, alright. This is something I never wanted you to hear, but I guess I'd rather it come from me then him."

Harry was frowning in genuine concern at Sirius as he started to explain what exactly had happened that night. Starting with how he'd taunted Snape by telling him Remus' secret location under the Whomping Willow and how everything had spiraled out of control from there. He left out the part where his friends had blamed him as much as Snape for the cruel prank, how they hadn't spoken to him for months afterwards. He didn't bother with the defenses he'd used back then, how he'd never have believed Snape would take him at his word and really go check it out, no he wouldn't try and save face so many years later in front of Harry.

Once he was done he braced himself, eyeing Harry with more fear than any of them could ever imagine could cross his face. Sirius couldn't help it though, he honestly was expecting for Harry to have a sudden revelation. Now that he realized he was capable of murder, whether unintentionally or not, could this possibly jog Harry's memories? Make him remember something that would connect what the Ministry was saying about him in his own time? He'd seemed adamant so far, but...

"So, it was an accident," Harry confirmed, watching him critically. At the stunned look on his Godfather's face, Harry's relaxed into his more natural easy going look and continued, "err, at least, well I understand you'd never do anything like that on purpose. Sure it was dumb, but I can hardly judge and say I've never done something that bad before."

"You've hardly sent Ron into the den of one of your best friends the night he was to turn into a werewolf," Sirius rebutted, still looking like he was sitting on a hot seat. James elbowed him, hard, making Sirius slink away from him and rub at his side absently.

Remus was quick to say, "knock it off Sirius, this is something long over. Harry's decided the same thing we did, err, in the end." He finished lamely, not really meeting anyone's eyes.

Lily was watching all of them with general mixed feelings. She vividly remembered the time in school where four Marauders became three for quite a few months. This had happened a few days after she'd officially stopped talking to Snape, so she hadn't really known anyone who even had the slightest idea why this could be. All she knew was that after that terrible Quidditch game where Sirius had been knocked out of the air, things seemed to have patched up between the lot. She found it fascinating to finally get the full story on this, but kept her opinion of it to herself since it was basically the same as Harry's.

Sirius still looked miserable at the reminder, James and Remus very uncomfortable with the whole topic, though both of them still clearly defending him made it clear they didn't really hold a grudge anymore. Still, when Harry didn't say anything else, James decided to turn to the book and managed to read out whatever tosh Snape had strung together from that.

Telling how James Potter had not been a saint in saving Snape's life, but was out there for his own skin. How he and his friends had tried to pull a joke on him, and he would have died if James hadn't chickened out before they could go through with it. Of course they had backed out because they hadn't wanted to get expelled.

"Is that what he thought?" Sirius muttered, still slumped into the couch and looking as surely as any other time his name had been mentioned so far, this possibly being the least pleasant reminder to date! James absently kicked him to get him to shut it, still wanting to get past this as fast as possible.

Then Snape switched tactics and told Harry to empty his pockets.

"Still doesn't prove a thing," Remus muttered.

Harry hesitated, and Snape said that if he didn't they'd go up to Dumbledore.

"Honestly I think we'd all prefer that," Lily groused.

Harry did, revealing his bag of Zonko's treats and the blank map. Snape picked up the Zonko's bag, and Harry quickly said Ron had given that to him from the last time he'd been there.

"You've gotten so much better at those on the spot type lies," James praised with warmth, ignoring Lily's rolling eyes at thinking the same thing.

Snape sneered that Harry had kept them on him this whole time?

"Okay, getting caught with them is still kind of bad," Remus agreed with a wince as they could possibly implicate Harry in some other bad things, "but it's still not proof he'd been to Hogsmeade."

Then he picked up the map, and Harry quickly said that was just some spare parchment.

Snape wasn't impressed, saying it looked so old they may as well throw it out.

"Why would he?" Sirius demanded, finally distracted enough to look grumpy at this particular subject now. "Is he baiting Harry, it's not like he could know what that was."

"That's all I can think of," James agreed.

He went to toss it into the fire, and Harry shouted at him to stop. Snape was obviously pleased now, asking if this was yet another gift from his friend?

"Yes," Remus said, his eyes lighting up with glee all of a sudden. "If Harry goes with that, or if Snape doesn't believe him and tries for himself," he trailed off with a surprising burst of laughter that left Harry and Lily stumped. James looked quite pleased though, and seemed to be hoping something along the same lines. He didn't give the two out of the know the chance to ask though.

Then he speculated what else it could be, like some secret way to get into Hogsmeade that didn't involve traveling past dementors.

"Actually, he's not too far off," Lily muttered.

When Harry didn't answer, Snape pulled out his wand and tapped the parchment, telling it to reveal its secrets.

James lost it for a moment, forced to stop reading so that he could let out his own bursting laughter in anticipation for what was about to happen. Sirius and Remus weren't fairing much better, their faces bright red with anticipation for this. James wrangled himself back under control and continued almost normally.

Nothing happened, and Harry had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Lily's curiosity was beginning to wane out as she said, "are you lot really laughing like idiots because he can't get it to work? That's hardly so funny."

"Wait for it," James insisted, his eyes shining with so much held in laughter it was a wonder he could still see straight.

Then Snape instead said his full name and false title as ruler of this school for this object to tell what it knew while hitting it with his wand again.

"Yes!" Sirius cheered, that had been exactly what they'd been waiting for! Harry didn't bother to ask this time, but instead bounced eagerly so he could hear the punchline of this built up joke as well.

Finally something did happen, and the map activated, but not in the usual way. Instead words were appearing like someone was writing it down, and it said 'Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.'

All of the boys lost it, Sirius even falling off the couch laughing and still unable to stop himself. Lily was watching them with a combination of annoyance and repressed humor. She dearly wanted to ask if they'd somehow specialized this just for Snape, but somehow expected otherwise. She remembered one memorable occasion where a Ravenclaw had come across some old scrap of parchment Peter had been holding, and the then Head Boy had demanded to know what it was. When Peter had said nothing, the boy had rightfully not believed that having prior experience with all of the Marauders, and took it away and performed a similar command on the paper. Lily had never seen what had become of all this, but the boy had looked highly offended, and Peter was cracking up laughing while telling that it was a joke bit of parchment where if you said your name, it was charmed to insult you. With this memory floating back to the surface, she could no longer repress it and was laughing downy near as hard as the others, even as James sucked air back into his lungs and read out the next bit.

Both Harry and Snape froze up, but more words continued appearing: 'Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.'

Sirius hadn't recovered from the first comment, and was remarkably able to double up his amusement, though how that was possible none of them had been sure. Maybe it was an overreaction, it really wasn't even that funny or creative an insult, but they all had the sneaking suspicion that Sirius had been under so much stress for literally all day now, he was letting loose a lot of pent up feelings in releasing as much laughter as possible in these opportune moments now, so still snickering along himself, James kept reading.

Harry may have laughed if this wasn't such a serious situation.

Sirius couldn't have made the joke right now even if he wanted to, he was too invested in continuing to listen to his most prized possession insult someone in the most poetic of justice ways possible.

The map was still going, the next one saying: 'Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.'

"My sentiments exactly," Remus agreed fondly, still watching Sirius come back to earth just slightly as his exploding laughter began backing down in cackling, still rubbing at his ribs and brushing tears out of his eyes as he listened to the final one.

The map finished its final words with: 'Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.'

"That," Harry told them, slightly red in the face himself from laughing so hard, "was bloody brilliant. How on earth did you get it to do that?"

"Charm wasn't that hard," Remus waved away, "all you have to do is command it to obey you while stating your name and those kinds of things will pop up."

"The reason Padfoot here lost his arse during it," James continued while looking down at his friend with all the amusement he had, "is that he tried to convince us for ages to pull this on him during school. Just leave it about one day and Snape was sure to do it, the pompous git would never not if he knew it belonged to us. He's now getting to witness a prank we'd never done."

"And enjoying every last second of it," Sirius murmured, face flushed with excitement as he sat upright and looked at the book with the first real affection. This was still the worst possible day of his life hands down, but that little moment right there had almost made it all worth it.

In between girlish giggles, Lily managed to get out, "well I hope that convinces Snape enough that you haven't been up to anything. You could have just as easily gotten that from Zonko's along with the other stuff Ron got you."

James really hoped that were the case, as he didn't have any more to go at Harry with.

Snape huffed and stalked over to his fire, tossing some green powder into it.

"What on earth?" Sirius began in surprise, having not seen this coming one bit, but James wasn't giving him the chance to question it too much as he read.

Then he spoke into the flames, calling for Lupin to come to his office.

"Why!?" Lily spluttered in shock. Of all the teachers for him to have summoned and consult, why him?

"Do you think he knew?" Remus asked curiously. "That it used to be mine? I really didn't think he'd recognize it."

"Well he did stalk us enough," James said with a perturbed look, "but even if he did put that together, and bloody hell that's a leap since he'd have no way of knowing how Harry got that, that it was the exact same one even, what's he expect you to do? Admit to it all? You don't even know Harry has it."

They were all stumped beyond reason of Snape's logic with this, but hoped that reading would help them out.

Said Professor appeared, stepping out of the fire and dusting off the soot and looking around in confusion.

"Bet I was every bit as confused by that summons," Remus told, still finding it odd now with the proper backstory.

Lupin asked why he was here in a mild tone.

"Be happy that was mild rather than blistering," Lily muttered into Harry's ear, who nodded despite not having needed that, he now understood better than ever the animosity between his family and Snape.

Snape agreed he had while going back to his desk, looking more furious than ever.

'Pretty sure that's not all for Harry's circumstances' James mentally grumbled, imagining Snape might have summoned Remus just to have a little more time to berate him in front of Harry.

He explained Harry's circumstances and pointed out the map, and Lupin's face closed off.

"I can only imagine," Remus laughed for now, fairly sure how mind boggling he'd be at Harry coming across that on his own.

Snape had to prompt him to speak, and Harry got the feeling Lupin was having to think fast.

"You choose now to freeze up eh?" Sirius demanded with a crooked smirk, since he was normally the one to come up with the best excuses of the lot of them.

"I'd like to see you do one better with this," Remus shot right back, even now scrambling for a reason Harry would have this, while pressing past the shock of him having it, and probably having to skip over several bumpy memories in the process of shock.

Snape spoke up again, saying how this bit of paper clearly held Dark Magic.

Lily gave a derisive snort of mirth as she mocked, "oh please, it insulted him, it didn't curse him. When did he become so dramatic?"

None of the boy's fancied adding on to that, torn between wanting to laugh and fearing anything they did say Lily still wouldn't be pleased with no matter what she said now.

Lupin looked to Harry then, warning him to keep silent.

"I would have without the look," Harry shrugged, "I was as wound up as you trying to come up with some way out of this."

Then he began that Dark Magic was a bit much, it was obviously just a bit of parchment that insulted you.

"I'd take his word on this," James said with a straight face, "call me crazy, but for some odd reason I think he knows what he's talking about."

Sirius began snickering again, and Remus didn't look much better.

He admitted it was childish,

"Oi," Sirius hooted in protest, "this was my idea!"

"And I called it childish then to," Remus reminded with a smirk in place.

but most likely just a mild prank. Snape looked even more angry now.

"What did he expect?" Lily rolled her eyes in contempt. "Did he honestly think you were going to side with him, try and get Harry into trouble for this?"

"Still have no idea," Harry sighed.

Snape insisted that he thought Harry had gotten it from the manufacturers.

That stopped James cold, sharing a stunned look with his friends as they realized they may have been wrong, and Snape really had made that leap. Harry understood far better now than he would have then, asking, "why on earth would he think one of you had given it to me?"

"I've no idea," Sirius admitted, head cocked to the side as he eyed the book, "guess he does know it was ours, maybe the nicknames or something gave it away, but what is he thinking? I gave it to you? There's no way you'd have accepted it considering what you think of me then-" he covered the horrible wince poorly, but kept going anyways. "That means he either thinks you inherited it from James, or Remus gave it to you just this year."

"While I can kind of see him thinking I'd do it," Remus shrugged, "why would he call me in to ask? Even if I had, what's it to him if I did, it's not illegal."

"Trying to trip you up maybe," James offered, "showing special treatment to Harry. As for him getting it from me, that could also be true, he hasn't caught Harry with it the previous two years so for all he knows..." he trailed off, but no one had any real idea what Snape was really thinking.

Even Lily felt stumped trying to understand his logic in this, though this stung far more than she was expecting it to. There was a time where she had perfectly understood her best friends every motion and idea before he said it, now she couldn't begin to fathom this one. It was more than disconcerting to realize how far apart they'd come, no matter how many times she realized it.

With no answers, James was hoping Remus might have some better insight while talking to Snape so read.

Harry had no idea what that could mean, and Lupin didn't seem to either.

"Well if there's one thing he can do, it's play dumb," Sirius agreed with a smirk, taking the smack Remus gave him for the tone without remorse.

He tried to laugh it off, referring to the Mr. Wormtail.

Remus' face gave an odd twitch, guessing that having to say any of those names in this time period would have been pretty wrenching for him.

Then he asked Harry if he knew any of those people. Harry said he didn't, and Lupin looked like the matter was settled as he decided it was probably just a Zonko gift. Ron came sprinting in then.

"Timing!" Sirius cried with glee, Harry's best friend getting major brownie points with him if he stormed in and backed all of this up like he hoped.

He was red faced and doubled over from panting,

"Well that's not an encouraging start," Lily groaned, eying the book with fear as she realized what Snape would have, why would he be so out of breath and freaking out if Harry wasn't supposed to be in trouble?

but quickly said that he'd given Harry all of that stuff.

"I'm so proud," James fake sniffled, using the corner of the page to pretend to wipe away a tear, while real pride was welling up in him for Ron cottoning on and being the perfect alibi right when Harry needed him.

Lupin looked all too happy now as he brushed his hands together,

"I'm positive it was taking everything in me not to burst out laughing at that display," Remus snickered now.

and decided that was that. He picked the map back up and put it inside his own coat.

"Thank Merlin," Sirius breathed, having feared Snape might still try to confiscate that and keep it away from Harry, but then his eyes lit up all over again as he crowed, "oh sweet! Do you lot know what this could mean?"

"Harry and Ron get to go rub it in the twins face they got away with this," James answered.

"Well that to," Sirius agreed, before turning on Remus and nearly bouncing in pleasure as he said, "but, this could be your window! You've been stalling all this time probably because of how weird it would be for you to get started explaining this to him, but this could be perfect for you! Pulling him aside and explaining the manufacturing comment to Harry."

His eyes were shining with so much bright hope and happiness, Remus didn't have the heart to tell him that he doubted this as much as Sirius thought it to be true. He'd made it perfectly obvious in this future he wanted as little to do with Harry as possible, which made him feel like he was being skinned alive now, but it had been so long since he'd seen Sirius back to full jubilant life he only nodded and added his agreement he hoped this to be true, while bracing himself by leaning away in preparation for the opposite.

The other three noticed what Sirius refused to take note of, and were all equally torn at both possibilities. James couldn't think of anything to say though, deciding not to address it until after whatever happened.

He called Harry and Ron after him, saying he wanted to ask something about the homework he'd assigned them.

"Subtle," Lily muttered under her breath, though not loud enough to interrupt as she was just as eager as anyone for Remus blatantly pulling Harry aside, a good start.

He led them up to the main entrance, but before Harry could say anything Lupin cut in that he didn't want to hear it, he knew for a fact that the map had been taken by Filch years ago.

"What a way to start," Sirius cackled, ignoring the growing ache when he realized that they hadn't exactly gone somewhere more private like this chat deserved.

He said he knew quite well it was a map at Harry and Ron's shocked faces.

"You really threw us off right then," Harry shrugged with a happy smile, "I later made the joke you were better at predictions then Trelawney."

"Nah," James laughed, "just more insight."

He wasn't going to ask how he'd found it,

"Really though, I think I would have been more than impressed at the turn of events," Remus gave a wane smile, all the while shriveling up on the inside as it was more than obvious his tone was scolding and not nearly as approachable as he'd been hoping for.

Sirius was the only one who was holding out hope how this could turn around.

but he was shocked that Harry hadn't handed it in after the last bit of paper that allowed someone to get into the castle.

"Ouch," Lily winced, finding that particularly harsh while Sirius lost any enthusiasm and slumped back into the couch with a new weight added on top of his chest, this continued attitude making him feel like pulling out his hair.

Then he said he wasn't going to give it back.

"Really Remus," Harry groaned, looking like a kicked puppy. While at the time he had given up without argument for the sake of some answers, right now his tone equally matched the shock and disappointment of the others.

"That's it, you're officially disowned," Sirius huffed, his voice just not up to its normal teasing tone as he watched Remus curiously. "You've turned into an old killjoy, and I'm going to need your Marauders card back."

He held out his hand expectantly, but Remus didn't play along. He was busy twisting away at the hem of his robes, counting every instance of how he'd acted in this future and how the longer this dragged on the more he was convinced Sirius was right. He had changed, and he didn't like it one little bit. It truly scared the crap out of him what had become of him.

James gave a pitiful sigh, he wanted to join in with Sirius, maybe make a crack Remus had just taken it for nostalgic reasons or some nonsense, but he was so emotionally drained by this point he just couldn't bring himself to do it, so he pressed on loudly, just hoping that this would all somehow look better in tomorrow's morning light.

Harry didn't argue, he wanted to ask a question.

Harry rolled his eyes, clearly not feeling that way now, but Remus was doing a good enough job of looking contrite about doing this he didn't see the point in adding on.

Instead he asked about the manufacturing comment. Lupin didn't seem keen on answering, but did say that the mapmakers would have found it hilarious to sneak Harry out of the castle.

"Some of us would," Sirius grumbled with an eye roll, and Remus flinched like Sirius had really just tried to hurt him. Sirius felt guilty at once, realizing his friend had spent all day giving him any and all comfort and convincing him he hadn't turned into this horrible thing everyone else said, and here he was doing the opposite for his friend. So he instead leaned over and whispered into his ear, "of course you'd insist on coming no matter what we said, no matter how stupid you found it."

Remus just grunted, not finding Sirius' picking on him as comforting as Sirius had hoped, so Sirius decided he'd have to try something else.

Harry asked if Lupin had known them, and he agreed they'd met.

"We've met," James repeated with an eye roll, "oh yeah, a few years back maybe, not sure what happened in the meantime, think some kid got slimed at one point, it's all a blur." James had been trying to get a rise out of Remus as well, but it was clear Remus had all but shut down for the night and was only listening with the vaguest of attention.

He was looking at Harry more seriously than ever before.

"You're right Moony," Sirius nodded in agreement, "that has come up the most in this book, I think it's doing it on purpose just for me."

"Yet another reason I've hated this year," James grumbled when the other didn't respond.

He told Harry that he couldn't force him to take Black seriously,

"Oh Merlin," Remus groaned at the smile that blossomed on said man's face, that shook him out of his shock to look even more disgusted with himself if that were possible. "Now even I'm doing it! Now I know something's happened to me, I must have had head trauma at some point."

Sirius was too busy being pleased Remus had just responded to anything to back up the joke.

but he would have thought that the effect the dementors had on him would make him act better. It would be some payback to his parents if he lost his life over some magic toys.

"Ouch," Lily winced for Harry, while James looked oddly torn between wanting to agree with Lily that this had been way too harsh, and wanting to laugh that James had risked his life for less sometimes just for the sake of a joke. He'd been pretty careless in his youth, he'd admit that about some of the stunts he'd pulled around school, and Remus doing this now felt as low as Snape calling him on it earlier. Maybe they were right, maybe Remus really had changed, and it wasn't making anyone feel any better. Could they really say anything though, Remus was his own person and if he really had moved on or somehow changed in this time they didn't really think they had a right to criticize him for it. It didn't make Lily feel any better about what he'd just said, wanting more than anything to snap at him he didn't really have a right to say anything for them, but then she really looked at Remus and saw that he was fixing to have his own break down right along with Sirius if something didn't change soon and she held it in.

Remus refused to say what he was really thinking though, that this scary new person carrying his name was acting so new, had he changed so much towards Sirius as well? He'd been so positive this whole time he must be helping Sirius, but now...he remembered back to the news that Sirius would be given a Dementor's Kiss if he was caught, and the bland way he'd reacted in the future to the news. He'd had a mini coronary over the realization then that he hadn't seemed to care one way or the other, was that really true? Was he such a completely different person, he actually wasn't even helping out Sirius? All of these things kept smashing around in his mind like gongs, and between that and his exhausted body physically, it was all he could do to keep listening to James read and keep his surroundings in focus without slipping further into a mental breakdown.

Then he left with Harry feeling worse than he had yet when confronted with Snape. He and Ron began heading back to Gryffindor tower, not bothering to stop by and grab the cloak.

"Maybe for the best for now," James nodded absently.

They didn't quite make it there when Hermione found them, and the look on her face made Harry question if she somehow knew what they'd done as well, and had gone to their head of house.

"I'll bleeding lose my mind if she did," Sirius sighed without any real heat, still far too concerned with the way Remus was slowly starting to look just as bad as him whenever he came up in the story and not liking it one little bit.

It would be a cruel twist if Harry had gotten out of that mess just to get put right back in it by McGonagall, but right now getting a detention in school would be a minor comedy compared to their other issues.

Ron demanded to know if she'd been doing just that, and she barely got the words out that she'd gotten word that Hagrid had lost his case, and Buckbeak was going to die.

Harry made a terrible noise of protest, finally stopping looking at both of his uncles like he was making sure they were still breathing from their combined stress, and abruptly shoved back into other matters.

"Alright you lot," Lily sighed miserably, "we really do need to get to bed."

"But Mum-" Harry began protesting at once, looking at the book as if it were Buckbeak himself, and if he just kept reading he'd know for sure everything was going to be okay.

"No," Lily said with finality. Trying, and failing, to keep her eyes from flickering over to Remus she began getting to her feet, walking over to Sirius and taking the book away from him. One glance at his friend and the protest died on his lips. With a heavy sigh they all got to their feet and headed for the stairs, except Remus who simply slumped over and crashed right there on the couch.

Sirius came down a few moments later to drape a blanket over him and make sure all the lights were off before the house went silent.

HPHPHPHP

*So we know why the second wouldn't work, as we all know that Remus isn't helping him though they still don't, but I'm actually kind of stumped on how Sirius was still getting out of the castle once he got in. The way I suggested has some holes in that if they used the Homenum Revelio spell, wouldn't it still show a dog? I thought the spell would just show if anyone else at all was in the room, plus it would be a real chore for Padfoot to actually make it from the seventh to the first floor to get out of a window or something without being spotted by anyone! Not the paintings, or the ghosts or, anyone! Suggestions would be lovely and appreciated.

#Harry Potter #Marauders #fanfiction #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Lily Potter #PoA #reading the books

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littlemisslol-fic · 4 years

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The mansion was supposed to be abandoned, Hugo knows.

He's wrong.

OOPS A DAY LATE but hopefully from the size of this installment it's kind of obvious why lmao Thanks for reading guys!! And a BIG kudos to @alistairwrites who set this whole thing up! I had SO MUCH FUN BRO!!!

This is a terrible fucking idea.

Hugo's had a lot of terrible ideas- too many to count, really- but there’s something almost special about this one.

With an angry grunt the blond pushes his way through the rough foliage of the overgrown patch of forest he finds himself in. It’s a scraggly, rough chunk of terrain; he’s already eaten shit enough times to really be ready to call it quits… but Donella would ream him if he came back empty handed again. The scowl set into his face only deepens, pale skin drawing tighter and tighter around his mouth as he stubs his stupid toe on another stupid rock, and- oh, thank the Maker he can see light.

The moon’s high in the sky, full and round like an uncracked egg. The forest is bathed in a blue light, so Hugo spots the warm orange glow of his target with almost hilarious ease. Really, if these stupid magical fucks want to hide so damn badly, they should really try harder-

Hugo swears loudly as he trips over a gnarled root sticking up from the musty earth.

“Fucks-sake,” He hisses, face down in the damp soil. He can feel the grit of dirt between his teeth- disgusting- and hastily shoves his glasses up onto his face with a growl. This artifact Donella wants had better be worth it; Hugo deserves a vacation after walking out here for the last three days. It had been that long since the nearest town, at least, where he’d looked at the path leading out of the small village, turned ninety degrees away, and started walking into the thick brush. Donella had told him that what she wanted was buried deep in the Coronian forests, in one of the supposed magician’s little hideaways.

As he draws closer, he can feel a buzzing in the air, almost like electricity- but as Hugo draws near enough to see his prey, he can’t help but grin. Classic, stupid assholes; even out in the middle of the woods someone was bound to eventually find their hideout; no wonder they’d been so easy for Donella to track. Hugo scoffs as he hunkers down into a bush, peeking out into the clearing beyond with a calculating glare.

Before him lies a large mansion, old and creepy as all hell, but well maintained. It isn’t a large footprint- but it’s tall, with a high vaulted roof and thin but long windows capped in perfect arches. The old Victorian mansion has a large, wooden porch that wraps around, jutting out like a great creeping maw near the front door- ready to devour anything that got too close. The faded paint was once a cheery blue, from the looks of it, but the building has long since faded to a depressing grey. The wood was obviously chipping away with the beats of time, ivy and other plants slowly climbing upwards like creeping hands.

Hugo shudders- he doesn’t exactly believe in ghosts, but that place looks haunted as fuck.

But it’s also the place he needs to be. Hugo bites the inside of his cheek, looking out over the unkept lawn and gnarled gardens, seeing only one of the windows has light coming from it. It’s around the back of the house- and had been the glow that had led Hugo to the building in the first place. A small flickering shine of a single candle, probably in a side room or hallway. That meant that whoever was inside was long asleep- which is perfect for Hugo’s purposes.

Donella had been brief with her descriptions of the manor and of Hugo’s objective. His mentor wasn’t one to mince words; get in, get the artifact, get out she’d told him. Easy grab, in and out, the usual bullshit.

Hugo hunkers down a little deeper into the bush he’s hiding in. The front door’s out- if anything’s going to be rigged it’s the doors- but Hugo can see one or two sneaky-bastard-sized windows scattered around the first floor. Donella had said that the magician’s leader, a weaselly little weirdo, used this place to guard their most priceless artifacts and treasures… such a shame, then, that they’d forgotten rumors could spread from even the tightest of lips with enough persuasion.

A pity, but their loss is his gain- and Donella’s victory.

Hugo slowly leaves the safety of his hiding place, creeping towards the manor with practiced footsteps; they’re so light they would barely snap a blade of grass. As he draws closer, the mansion seems to rise like a monolith, great and imposing as its silhouette blots out the moon. Hugo shudders again, huddling close in the deep shadow caused by the building. He creeps close to one of the windows, a smaller one innocently embedded in the side of the house. Hugo drops his satchel in the dirt, idly hearing it thump. He wraps spindly fingers under the window, giving it a testing tug upwards- and to Hugo’s infinite delight it slides up and open, revealing the curtains drawn shut beyond. The blond has to laugh, how stupid were these people, idly poking a testing hand through the window to split the faded red curtains aside. Inside he can see what looks like a sitting room of some kind, a large space full of chairs and shelves upon shelves of books and assorted trinkets.

Jackpot.

With the quiet movements of a trained thief he slips into the room, his boots landing soundlessly on the carpet. The room’s dark, nearly pitch black in the gloom of the late evening. He’s definitely in a sitting room of some kind, he can see an assortment of trinkets and artifacts -staffs, jewelry, crowns, idols, the room was a literal treasure trove. Hugo’s green eyes widen in delight at the sight of them all, the blond reaching backwards towards the window to grab his bag.

But his hand never makes it.

As if touching glass, his hand stops short on the threshold of the window. It’s like touching a perfectly invisible object, something flat and crackling with energy. Hugo’s mouth goes dry- Donella hadn’t told him about any sort of wards or spells protecting the manor, but obviously they have some kind of crazy magic bullshit in place. Hugo smacks his hand against the force a few more times, growing more and more desperate as the seconds tick by.

“Shit,” He mutters with each hit, the small thumps reverberating around the quiet room, “Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit-”

By the Maker- he’s fucked. Hugo can feel something like panic claw up in throat from his chest- he’s stuck, that much is obvious, trapped in this shitty, haunted mansion, for Maker knows how long-

Footsteps.

Hugo dives behind a chaise before he can think about it, the purple fabric of it seeming almost black in the night lighting. Hugo can see, through the crack at the bottom of the door across the room, a moving light. The footsteps grow louder- the hallway must have wooden floors- and the light turns into a proper beam, starting on the left side of the door. Someone must be walking by, probably with a candle or some kind of light, Hugo realizes. He hunkers down just the little more in his hiding place, holding his breath as the beam of light passes, moving from one side of the door to the other, the footsteps never faltering as the person walks by with even measure.

Finally, after an agonizing few seconds, the person passes. The footsteps fade away, and the light grows dimmer and dimmer before vanishing entirely. Hugo lets out the breath he’d been holding- his lungs burn. He begins to slouch a bit, pressing his back a little more against the chaise as he breathes.

“Okay, stupid.” He mutters into the empty room. “What are we going to do now?”

The open window stares back at him, mocking him, a tempting wrong answer to his problems. The cool summer air blows in from the open window, fluttering the curtains in a fun little fuck you to Hugo’s predicament- by the Maker he’d really fumbled this, and he’d only gone into one room.

Donella’s going to kill him.

Okay. Okay no, no more panicking, he needs a plan. Obviously escaping out the window isn’t happening, and there’s someone awake running around, so Hugo has the idea that he had to be at least a little quiet about how he approaches this. He sneaks closer to the door, pressing an ear against the ornate, carved wood. He can’t hear anything from the other side, so with a cautious hand he twists the brass doorknob a half inch at a time.

The door opens soundlessly- Hugo peeks out into the abandoned hallway with a critical eye. He cracked the door a little more, moving out into the hall. It’s long, spanning what must be the length of the mansion, covered in old portraits that seem to stare into Hugo’s soul.

“Fucking… wonderful.” He mutters, moving towards where he knows the front of the house is. If the windows are warded, there’s a chance the door may not be; the people living here have got to have a way in and out, right? There’s someone still in here, so the house can’t be under total lockdown… right?

The hallway lets out into a large entrance hall, a three-story tall grand room of solid oak pillars and marble floors. The walls here are covered in banners and torches, dimly lit in the late evening but bright enough that Hugo can see a large crest set into the floor. He knows it’s the crest of the weird magic folk he’s out to rob- the ones who currently had locked him in their house of horrors. He can’t really describe it, it’s a strange, rounded shape that, if anything, Hugo would say looks like a pissed off jellyfish.

He makes his way across the floor, sticking close to the edge of the room. Hugo winces when his boots make the tiniest footsteps, a small padding noise that rings in his ears. When he makes it to the door, he tests the handle, tapping its curved brass surface.

Locked.

Of fucking course.

Hugo scoffs, backing away. Fucks sake, what’s he supposed to do now? Don’s going to murder him, if he doesn’t starve to death in this house of horrors first. Hugo spins on his heel, intending to go back to the original room, when, just out of the corner of his eye, he sees it.

A pair of blue eyes blink back at him from the shadows of the upper floor, peeking through the rungs of the bannister.

As soon as Hugo makes eye contact the person blinks and backs away, those sapphires disappearing into the shadows. Hugo hears frantic footsteps running along what must be more hardwood upstairs, clumsy and rushed as the person runs away.

“Hey!” Hugo barks, any sense of stealth long lost. He’s been caught- no more pussyfooting around. He bolts up the stairs to his left, taking them two at a time with ease. “HEY!”

The person doesn’t stop- Hugo catches sight of pale skin and black hair before they round a corner. If Hugo’s right, it should be a dead end at the end of that hallway. He takes the turn fast, slipping on the maroon carpet runner and nearly eating shit but just managing to get his feet under him. Hugo looks up with a scowl, intent on catching the fucker and demanding to be let out-

And comes face to face with a wall.

Shocked, he looks around. All there is a long hallway and a set of windows, no doors, no exits- and yet the person is just gone, vanished into thin air like a ghost. A chill runs up Hugo’s spine at that, the blond clenching his hands. People, in his experience, don’t just disappear.

“What the fuck?” He mutters to himself, looking quizzically at the taxidermized heads and paintings hanging on the walls. They stare right back at him as he huffs for breath. “What the actual fuck, I’m losing my marbles!”

He’d seen someone, Hugo’s sure of it. Blue eyes, black hair- they’d been here. But now they weren’t. Hugo scowls, kicking at a decorative stand with a grunt. The vase on top of it rattles ominously, but stays upright. The blond shakes his head, moving back into the mansion. There has to be a way out of this shitty house, and he’s going to find it if it kills him.

He doesn’t find it.

Hugo spends the rest of the night searching the house. Every window, every door, every crack in the bloody wall- and all of it turns up null for an escape route. The house is sealed tighter than a chestnut, and Hugo’s ready to tear his hair out. Eventually he drags himself back to the room he’d entered the house though, the window still wide open as an extra kick to the balls-

Hugo sighs.

He sinks down onto one of the couches, the exhaustion of an all-night panic attack settling deep into his bones. He’d torn through the mansion like a bat out of hell for so long, his body was demanding rest. The blond had retreated back to the main room in defeat, scooping up a fire poker as an impromptu weapon as his alchemy supplies was in his bag, outside. Hugo pushes his glasses up to the top of his head with a sigh, rubbing at burning eyes with a rough touch.

“Shit.” He whispers into the quiet of the room. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The house doesn’t answer. After the chase, Hugo had yet to see another living thing in the house, not even an insect. The person from before had vanished without a trace, but Hugo couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck. When he turned, glaring into the dark corners of whatever room he was in at the time, there was never anyone there. It gives him the creeps; the longer he stays in the house, the shorter his patience becomes.

He lies down on the couch, allowing himself to sink into the plush cushions with a sigh. His fire poker sinks a little in his grip, the tip tapping the floorboards as Hugo slouches lower and lower. The claws of sleep sink deep into him, tugging him down into his dreams before he can stop it.

As the sun crests over the horizon, Hugo nods off into a restless sleep.

>>><<<

When he wakes up, it’s to the smell of something cooked.

Hugo cracks a groggy eye open, scanning the room around him. It’s still empty of people, left exactly the way it was when he went to sleep- not a mote of dust out of place save for one thing. When Hugo looks directly in front of him, to a small, wooden coffee table at current face height, he can see a small plate, filled with a few sunny-side-up eggs and two slices of toast with jam. It smells delicious- Hugo’s used to road rations and tough grit from his time with Donella, it’s unusual for him to get to eat actual food- and from the waft of steam coming from the eggs, they’re fresh.

Hugo doesn’t trust it for a second.

The sun’s high in the sky; it must be sometime around noon, from the looks of the light outside. He slept longer than he meant to, but seeing as he was stuck in this hell house either way, a little oversleeping wouldn’t kill him. The blond sits up, grabbing his glasses off a side table of carved mahogany. He stares down at the food with suspicion, eyes narrowed.

The eggs sit there, appetizing and warm. Hugo glares a little harder, scooping up a nearby fork that had been left as well and poking at them. The metal weighs heavy in his hand- real silver. Interesting. The eggs don’t reveal any untoward secrets- no poison or half crushed drugs from the looks of it, but Hugo knows better. Donella had taught him well, after all.

With a scowl he stands, leaving the room without touching the food.

The house is just as gloomy in the day as it is during the night. The arching ceilings hover above Hugo like guillotine’s blade, just waiting to fall. The building is a labyrinth of hallways and strange rooms, piled high with strange artifacts and shelves packed with books and other items, all polished to perfection. It’s something he’d noticed, last night, is that the whole house is spotless- and if anything, that makes it all the creepier. Not a speck of dust has time to settle on anything in the house; if Hugo had to guess it was the person from the night before that kept the mansion as impeccable as it was. There was no one else in the house to do the work, unless there was a different magic other than the bloody forcefield keeping Hugo in at play.

His fire poker is a solid weight in his hand, still the only viable weapon Hugo had found in this freaky house- anything else was either drenched in magic (not something Hugo wanted to toy with thank you) or not exactly useful.

He finds himself in the great hall again. The massive double doors stand proud as they had before, mocking him with how simple escape seemed to be. With a small glace up to the landing, this time devoid of Hugo’s little stalker, he continues on. If memory serves from his frantic search of the house, there was a main library just off the main hall, past a large door of wrought iron and mahogany.

Hugo shoves at the door; it opens on soundless hinges. The library beyond is nothing short of breathtaking, to be fair. Three stories tall, the massive room filled to the brim with shelves and couches, and books, so many books. Hugo is, at heart, still a man of science and knowledge; if he had the time, Hugo could spend years here.

But for now, he needs to look for a way to get out.

A knot forms in his stomach. It’s a hunger pang, he unfortunately knows from experience, but he’d rather pass out than eat something that was potentially drugged. Hugo scowls as he stalks deeper into the library, scanning the shelves. They don’t seem to be in any kind of order, or at least not one Hugo can figure out. The blond turns into an aisle, high shelves on either side to start randomly searching, but stops dead.

On the other side of the aisle, closest to the wall, stands a figure.

It’s the same person as last night, small and thin and short- almost a head shorter than Hugo, with a mop of long, dark hair with a bright streak of teal through it. The boy’s pale- he looks like he hasn’t stepped outside in years, and those blue eyes Hugo remembers so vividly are framed by dark bruises. The boy wears a simple blue vest and white shirt, with moderately tight navy pants, and, Hugo notices with a start, no shoes. There’s a thick pair of goggles perched on top of the boy’s head, made of leather and brass. He looks about the same age as Hugo, maybe a year younger at the maximum.

The boy bites at a plush lip as he scans the books on the far shelf, tapping a finger against his chin as he reads the titles. His head cocks to the side as he reads, completely unaware of Hugo’s presence.

Perfect.

Hugo is, at heart, a sneaky bastard. His footsteps are quiet as he draws closer to the boy, who remains unaware until the very last second. Just as Hugo lunges for him, the boy turns. The blond gets the image of blue eyes going wide with shock before the hand not holding the fire poker grabs onto the teenager’s arm with a firm grip. The black-haired teen stumbles for a second at the sudden grab, but then finally seems to register Hugo’s presence.

And then he starts to scream.

It’s high pitched, near wailing. Hugo can’t help but drop his grip, covering his ears to block it out, the cry rings in his head as it does the previously silent library. The boy takes the chance given to him, trying to push past and run for the exit- but Hugo’s faster. With a quick foot he trips the other teen, the boy landing hard on the floor. His scream cuts off as he hits the floorboards, nearly taking Hugo down with him, but the blond rights himself and manages to get a hold of the boy’s arm again and haul him to his feet.

“You and I,” Hugo grunts as he drags the struggling teen from the shelves, “Are going to have a little chat.”

“Let go!” The teen shouts, furious. He yanks at Hugo’s grip on his arm, digging his heels into the wooden floors. “Let go, let go, let GO!”

Hugo grits his teeth, pulling harder and eventually shoving the teen onto one of the ornate, maroon couches. The boy lands with a thump, flailing a bit on the cushions.

“We’ll start simple.” Hugo’s teeth grit as the boy kicks at his legs. “Name.”

“What?” The kid asks, thrown off.

“Name.” Hugo repeats, shoving the fire poker in the kid’s face. Pale skin gets even paler at the sight of the impromptu weapon, the boy cringing back into the pillows of the couch.

“V-Varian!” He stammers, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Hugo.” The blond grunts back, “Now, Varian. You’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on with this house.”

“I don’t answer to you!” Varian spits, face twisting into a snarl that quickly drops when Hugo brandishes the poker again. “It’s a ward.”

“A ward?” Hugo asks, “Explain.”

“Fuck you-” Another swing of iron. “It’s magic, my master activates it when he leaves for a long time, it’s for protection.”

“Your master?” Gods what kind of weird shit- “Elaborate.”

“It’s his house.” Varian spits, shoving at the fire poker. “Get that out of my face- this all belongs to him.”

“And you?”

“I… work for him.”

Hugo tilts his head, gesturing for Varian to continue. The boy scowls again, but does so.

“He gives me room and board.”

“And that’s it?” Hugo’s heard of weirder, but it’s still strange. Varian nods, picking at the gloves on his hands.

“He takes care of me, and in return-”

“And in return you keep his house.” Hugo nods, understanding. “Alright, so you must know how to let me out, right?”

Varian shrugs, biting his lip. Now that Hugo’s stopped with the outward threats, he straightens a little on the couch. “I don’t know.” He says, and Hugo scowls. “I don’t.”

“And what happens when you want to go outside?” Hugo grunts, putting his free hand on his hip. This whole thing is sketch- something’s still weird here, especially in the way Varian shifts at the question.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He mumbles. The teen’s picking at his gloves again; Hugo’s now ninety nine percent sure that’s a nervous habit, but Varian doesn’t seem to be able to stop. “It’s not safe out there, not for me.”

That’s… suspicious. And strange. But also, untimely, not Hugo’s problem.

“So no one can get out?” He finally asks, and Varian shakes his head.

“Not until my master comes back- which should be in about three days.” He says, and Hugo can’t help but groan.

“Fucking perfect.” He hisses. Varian flinches at the anger, but Hugo can’t find it within himself to care because- “If your master finds me here, won’t he be upset with you?”

Varian bites at his lip again, but stays firm. “He’ll decide what to do when he gets back. I trust him.” The boy says, pushing up off the couch. Hugo lets him, mind reeling. He’s stuck here with this little whelp, a sitting duck while they wait for the guy Hugo is currently trying to rob to get home. He groans, shoving his glasses up onto his head and rubbing at his closed eyes with a frustrated noise.

When he opens his eyes again, Varian has disappeared.

>>><<<

Another day goes by before Hugo sees Varian again.

This time it’s in one of the hallways, the shorter teen balanced precariously on a tall ladder, carefully polishing at the golden frame of one of the paintings. The blond still hasn’t found a way out, he’s starting to dread the idea that there might not be a way out- but then he finds Varian, and at least that comes with the promise of human contact.

“You know,” He says quietly, letting the younger boy hear him without startling him, “If you used vinegar, it would work better.”

“Because of its acidic properties.” Varian says, “Specifically white, distilled vinegar because of its pH level of around 2.5.” A pause. “How do I know that?”

“What?” Hugo stutters- that’s not a common kind of thing that people just know-

“What?” Varian asks, looking down from the ladder. “Oh. You.” He grumbles. “Come to drag me around again?”

“No- I… okay whatever.” Hugo mutters, “Fuck me for trying to help, I guess.”

Varian laughs. It’s a short burst of a giggle, but it’s… fuck it’s cute. Hugo coughs roughly to keep from being suspicious, refusing to look as Varian slides down the ladder. The shorter boy lands with a thump, his bare feet barely making a sound on the hardwood.

“Thank you for the advice.” He says, cocking a hip. Hugo sticks his tongue out, crossing his arms.

“Whatever, goggles.” He mutters, “Work harder, not smarter if that’s your deal.”

Varian looks away again, shrugging. “I have nothing better to do all day.” He says, “And vinegar will eat at the gold finish over time.”

“Oh.” Hugo says, “Fair, gold’s-”

“Soft.” Varian finishes the sentence for him. “And the master likes it kept in perfect condition.”

Ah.

“Right.” Hugo says, “The master who doesn’t let you go outside, and curses his own house.”

“It’s for my own good.” Varian replies, and the way he says it sounds like it’s something that’s been beaten into him over time. Hugo arches a brow, but pauses when Varian turns to walk down the hall with a gesture of his chin.

“You haven’t been eating.” The boy says. “It’s lunch.”

“For all I know you’re out to poison me.” Hugo grunts. Varian backs off a little, shrinking into himself. Hugo can’t help but feel a pulse of guilt- he’s an interpersonal guy, he knows when to tone down the anger.

In theory.

“I’m waiting for the master to come home before doing anything.” Varian says, “He can’t decide if you’re dead before he gets here.”

That’s… a fair point.

“Fine.” Hugo finally says, subdued for now. “Lead the way, goggles.”

Varian does, the two of them walking through the halls in relative silence. Varian’s jumpy, Hugo can see it in the way his whole body shrinks into itself, the slouch of his spine, the way his arms fold in- he’s seen if before, in people who knew better than to try and fight back.

It doesn’t sit right.

Varian leads him down a series of hallways, turning every direction under the sun. He has the layout of the mansion down, it seems, as even when Hugo’s about as turned around as he can get, Varian never breaks stride. The wooden panels and thick joists eventually turn to stone walls and floors, Hugo noting as the temperature drops by about ten degrees.

Varian eventually ducks into a room behind a thin, wooden door. It lacks the usual decoration of the upstairs of the house, but as Hugo enters, he sees a large, stocked kitchen. Varian gestures for the blond to sit; he does, plopping onto a stool. There’s a large island in the very center of the room, where Hugo now sits, the walls all taken up by either large fireplaces or cupboards. Varian putters around like he knows the kitchen like the back of his hand- which, to be honest, he probably does.

Hugo sinks into his chair as Varian wanders over to a nearby fireplace, one of six, and the only one lit, and inspects the cooking pot overtop it. Hugo watches as he takes the lid off, thinking to himself as a waft of steam flies up into the air. Hugo’s struck by the smell- it smells delicious, like onions and potatoes and something a little more savory. Varian tuts to himself, grabbing a small bag and taking a pinch of salt from it. He measures it for another second before tossing it in. He stirs the soup, for what else could it be, a few more times before replacing the lid.

“Should be ready soon.” He murmurs to himself, “Not quite yet.”

Oh, goodie, he talks to himself.

Hugo slouches, putting his elbows on the wooden, butcher block surface of the island. “So.” He says into the silence of the kitchen. Varian’s spine tenses just a little, but he shifts enough that Hugo feels okay to proceed. “What the fuck.”

Varian snorts at the bluntness. Hugo smiles a little, he can’t help it. Varian plucks a loaf of bread from one of the boxes, along with a knife, and sets away to quietly slicing the bread in thick chunks.

“What are we what-the-fucking?” He asks. “Because no, I can’t let you out of here.”

“How about the house, then.” Hugo tries. Even if he can’t get out, it would be good to know as much as he can. Varian purses his lips, but nods.

“It’s my master’s.” He reiterates. “His family has had it for generations. The wards only respond to him- unless it’s broken.”

“So you can break them?”

“I never said that. He’d know if you did.”

“That’s useless to me.”

“I know, that’s what makes it hilarious.”

Hugo groans, propping his chin on a hand Varian snickers to himself, finishing cutting the bread.

“What about you, then?” Hugo asks. Not that he cares of course, but Varian is… well he’s cute. And smart, if not a little batshit bonkers. “What’s the deal?”

Varian goes a little pale. Suspicious, Hugo’s mind screams, suspicious as hell-

“I. Okay.” Varian sighs. He turns to the pot again, removing the lid and stirring it. That smell wafts through the air again. Varian snags two bowls, deftly scooping the soup into two heaping portions. He turns back, placing the soup in front of Hugo before sitting across from him. “I’ll tell you,” Varian says, “But you have to promise to listen to me all the way through.”

“Deal.” Hugo shrugs, even as the curiosity eats at him. There’s a story here, it seems. Hugo stirs his food idly, taking a bite. Oh, by the Maker, that’s good stuff right there.

“I don’t have any memories.” Varian states blankly, and Hugo chokes on his food. He coughs roughly, hacking into the table as Varian chokes on a laugh. “Are you okay?!” He giggles, pushing a glass of water towards the blond. Hugo, for all he can, keeps coughing into his fist, offering a thumbs up.

“That’s just not what I was-” A pause, to choke on air again, “Not what I was expecting.” He snatches the water and downs it, finally getting himself under control. “Please continue.”

Varian bites his lip to keep from laughing, but nods. “So. No memories.” He says. “About three months ago, the master found me, half dead, out in a winter storm.”

Hugo nods, it’s easy enough to know that something as life threatening as freezing to death can cause amnesia. But then-

“Why are you still here?” He asks, thinking. “Don’t you have family looking for you? Friends?” Varian’s cute, he might even have a lover- even if that would low-key break Hugo’s heart to see such an adorable face off the market. Varian shakes his head, sadly stirring his own lunch.

“Nothing.” He says, “Either there’s no one out there, or they’re not looking. That’s where the master went, to go talk to some of his contemporaries in other kingdoms. He’s looking for something to help me get my memories back.”

“Can he do that?” Hugo asks, mostly to himself. Varian only shrugs.

“Maybe? Magic is a pretty varied subject, or so my master says.” He says, finally taking a bite. Hugo tries to be casual about it, but he’s shoveling the food into his mouth- he’s hungry, hungrier than he thought he was, as if once he got a tiny bite into his stomach a feral thing had woken up and demanded more. He pauses for breath after a good half minute, and keeps questioning; if Varian’s in a talkative mood, Hugo’s going to ask away.

“So you just stay here?”

Varian nods with a smile. “My master takes care of me.” He says, “Memory issues caused by trauma can also cause other problems of the mind. If I wander too far, I could end up lost again.”

“And that’s why the wards keep you inside?”

Varian shrugs. “The master knows what’s best for me.” He says, almost like a mantra. “He gives me room and board, and in return I take care of the house.”

“Seems like an okay trade.” Hugo muses. “Can’t go too wrong with that.”

Varian nods, eating another spoonful of his meal. “He’s trying to fix me. I can’t ever repay him for that, and everything else he’s done to help me.” The younger teen looks a mile away, lost in thought. “I owe him a great debt.”

Hugo thinks of Donella. Grits his teeth.

“You don’t remember anything?” He asks, burying the topic deep. Varian shakes his head sadly, picking at a piece of bread.

“Not a thing.” He murmurs. “I do get… dreams. Flashes. But they’re never anything useful, and the master says they’re not real.”

“How would he know?” Hugo grumbles. Varian pauses, looking nervous. Something tells Hugo he’s had that exact thought in his head before.

“It’s small things.” Varian says. “The smell of apples, a city made of white marble. Sometimes, I see a girl, with long, blond hair. She calls me her brother. The master says it’s just my mind trying to fill in the blanks with lies.”

“And you think that’s right?”

“I think my master wouldn’t lie to me.” Varian grunts. Hugo tenses, setting his spoon down onto the counter. The chill in the air turns frigid. “I think he’s taken care of me, and I trust him- more than I trust you.”

Varian pushes himself back from the island, standing quickly. Hugo doesn’t try to stop him as he leaves the kitchen in a huff, leaving Hugo behind. The blond sighs, picking up his spoon again. He fucked that one up, it seems, but at least he had a little bit more knowledge as to what the hell was going on in this house of horrors.

With a grunt, he shoves another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

It’s infuriatingly good.

>>><<<

The next day is quiet.

If Varian’s to be believed, then his master is due back at the mansion tomorrow. Hugo has a limited amount of time before he’s fucked like a ten-dollar whore, and his corpse is due to be buried in the gardens surrounding the house. Hugo grits his teeth, pissed all to hell, because there’s just one problem.

He can’t get Varian’s hurt face out of his head.

Hugo had fucked up that conversation, that much was obvious, but… well, maybe he felt a bit guilty. Varian was obviously ill, at the very least. There was no reason for the other teen to lie, after all, and Hugo had thrown the truth back in his face. Varian had cooked for him, had tried to assure Hugo that his master was a nice person- and Hugo had been a right dick.

Classic.

The blond grumbles as he fumbles around the kitchen, the same one Varian had abandoned him in before. It had been a challenge to find his way back, but he’d done it- and now, despite wanting to claw his own eyes out, he wanted to try and do something nice. The word makes his skin crawl, but to be fair, Hugo was the one who fucked up.

And, if Varian’s master’s a dick, maybe Varian would stick up for Hugo if they were on better terms again.

The kitchen smells like fire, and something like dead fish. Hugo scowls at the cookbook he’d found on a shelf, one more mistake away from tearing the recipe to shreds and burning the book for good measure. He was just trying to make pasta of all things- he’d picked it because it was supposed to be easy; but in the hour since he’d started, he’d overcooked the pasta, added too much salt to the sauce when the lid of the salt shaker had popped off and dumped the whole thing in, hell, he’d even managed to fuck up the sauce again when cooking it in too small a pot, causing it to overboil and slop down the side.

So the dinner prep was going great, thank you for asking.

Hugo steps on a small fire that had started near one of the hearths, stomping on it with no small amount of concern. It putters out, but leaves a gross little smudge on the tiles. Great.

“Fucking hell,” He mutters to himself, “Light the whole bloody mansion on fire, why don’t I? It’ll go great.”

“I’d ask what you’re doing, but it looks like even you don’t know.”

Ah, fuck. The man of the hour.

“Varian!” Hugo crows, holding his arms out as if displaying the disaster of a kitchen. “So nice of you to drop by!”

Varian inches into the kitchen with an arched brow, looking at the chaos. “I thought I smelled smoke.” He murmurs, “And it seems I was right. What are you doing?”

“What I am doing,” Hugo grumbles, “Is trying to be nice, goggles. Maybe some appreciation would be swell.”

The pot behind him bursts into flames.

Varian shouts in shock, running to the flames with a frantic expression. Hugo whirls around with scared squeal, backing away and tripping over his own feet as Varian snags a dishtowel and grabs at the pot, taking it off the fire with precise movements. The shorter boy carries the fire over to a metal sink, dropping it in and snagging a nearby bucket of water, tossing the liquid in and dousing the flames. The pot sputters, spitting its last as the flames drown out. Smoke rises from the sink, putrid with the stink of burnt tomato paste and onions- near black as it fills the kitchen.

There’s silence as they stare at the sink together. Hugo cringes at the smell, sinking into himself a bit. Varian backs away from the smouldering ruins of the pot, expression unreadable. Hugo’s brain stutters, fuck, way to go, jackass, make things worse, this is what you get for trying to be nice-

Varian bursts out laughing.

“What the hell?!” He gasps out, “It’s… was it supposed to be stew?”

“Pasta.” Hugo sighs, looking to the floor. Varian laughs even harder, bent double so that his head is nearly at his knees.

“Sun above,” He gasps, wiping away tears, “How did you- that badly.”

Hugo shrugs, joining in on the giggles before he can help himself. “What can I say, I’m a man of many talents- just not cooking, it seems.”

Varian laughs harder.

Hugo joins him.

Eventually they end up in the library again, eating simple ham sandwiches together on one of the couches. Varian’s easy to talk to, if Hugo’s real with himself, they share a humour and a passion in the sciences. Varian snorts when he laughs- it makes Hugo’s heart flutter. The library’s warm, despite it being close to midnight by the time they’re done. Varian had shown Hugo something he was calling a phonograph, a small machine that played music after being wound tight. Hugo found it fascinating, the way the soft music fills the room.

“Don’t you ever think of leaving?” Hugo asks at one point, food long done and the drowsiness of the past-midnight hours setting in. The two of them lay on the carpeted floor so that their heads are side by side, only a scant foot between their faces, with their feet going in opposite directions. Varian sighs, staring long and hard at the ceiling.

“Of course I have.” He says, picking at his gloves. “I always have. But it’s dangerous out there, if I were by myself, I’d be dead before the week was up.”

“But… what if you weren’t alone?”

This is a bad idea, a bad, bad idea- but Hugo can’t help it. Hugo’s leaving the mansion one way or the other once Varian’s master returns, be it walking away or in a body bag. But after spending more and more time together, he doesn’t want to let Varian go. Doesn’t want to leave him behind.

Varian bites at his lip, thinking.

“The master would never allow it.” He says, sad, melancholy.

“Not with him, then.” Fuck, Hugo just keeps pushing. Varian turns to him then, looking Hugo in the eye.

“Maybe someday.” He says. “When I’m fixed.”

“But what if you’re not broken?”

The words are out before Hugo can stop them. They ring in the silence they leave behind, the only noise is the soft music from the phonograph. Varian sits up, looking down at Hugo with curious eyes.

“But my memories…” He trails off, thinking.

“Make new ones.” Hugo shrugs like it’s nothing. Varian’s eyes go a little wider, thinking hard, but he still shakes his head.

“I need to stay.” He says, “There’s too many questions.”

It’s disappointing, but Hugo plays it off. “Suit yourself,” He says, and lets the conversation drift again.

They sit like that for hours, into the early morning. Neither of them notice the late (and then early) hour until the sun starts to peek through the curtains of the library windows- Varian looks to them with a shocked expression, blinking.

“Oh.” He gasps, “Morning already?”

It’s day three.

Oh.

“The master will be back soon.” Varian murmurs, biting his lip. Hugo shrugs, trying for nonchalant. Varian tenses for another second, before bolting to his feet. “C’mon.”

Hugo rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself off the carpet, stumbling to his feet after hours of not moving. “Where are we going?”

“You’re getting out.” Varian says, looking over his shoulder for a second before leaving the room. Hugo jogs after him, shocked.

“Wait, I- goggles, wait-”

Varian doesn’t stop, walking to the center of the entrance hall. The symbol embedded in the floor is still there, large and imposing in a dark maroon against the white tiles. Hugo looks at it- still no fucking idea what it’s supposed to be, but Varian kneels at the edge of it with a sort of complicated expression. It’s not fear, not quite, but it’s close.

“What’s happening- hey?” Hugo says, kneeling down next to Varian and taking his shaking hands. Varian looks scared, near frantic; it doesn’t sit well with Hugo at all. “Hey,” Hugo tries again. He does his best not to flinch when Varian’s haunted gaze meets his own. “Deep breath, what are you doing?”

“I-” Varian chokes on the words, but shakes himself. “The master will kill you, he doesn’t take well to trespassers.”

Hugo’s heart sinks at that, but he keeps pressing. “No, hey, I can get past him, it’s okay.”

“No.” Varian says, “You won’t. He’s killed people before- no he hasn’t… maybe he has? But why do I remember it… it was half a year ago” Varian trails off, looking more and more haunted as the seconds tick by.

“For breaking in?” Damn, the guy sounds more intense that Hugo had anticipated. Varian shudders, a full body thing that has Hugo gently touching his elbow. The floor under Hugo’s knees is freezing, colder than it really should be indoors.

“He’s murdered over less.” Varian whispers. He leans down to the sigil in the marble, pressing his palms down onto it. The outline of the shape starts to glow a bright red, overtaking the glow of the torches and the weak sunlight streaming in. Hugo tilts his head, watching with fascination as the crest shines brighter and brighter before, with a great crack that sounds like thunder, the floor splits down the middle. The light dims, fading entirely. All that’s left behind is a large split down the middle of the design, torn open like a great, bloody wound.

The house shudders, as if rumbled down to the very bones. Items rattle on their shelves, paintings drop from the walls. The wood and stone groan in pain as the house wails its agony to the sky. Something in the air, that sense of electricity that had haunted Hugo since the moment he arrived, dies out, leaving an empty shell of a building behind. Things settle quickly after that, the building sinking back to its roots and falling dormant once more.

The two humans stay quiet from their place on the floor, Hugo gaping at the massive, foot wide crack in the marble. Varian shudders again, his hands clenched in pain as he nearly bends double over the stone. That’s enough to draw Hugo from his staring, the blond putting a hesitant hand on the smaller teen’s back. The boy shakes himself, trying to sit straight again with a grimace.

“Okay.” Varian mutters, his voice strained and near breaking. “It’s done.”

“Just like that?” Hugo asks, mind whirling. It was so easy-

“Just like that.” Varian slouches a little more, looking like he’s just signed his own death warrant. There’s a second of silence, before the smaller boy looks up with a grim determination. “You need to go.” He says. Varian pushes himself up with shaking arms, but Hugo meets him halfway, and pulls him up until they’re both standing.

“I- won’t he be mad?” Hugo stutters, caught looking between Varian and the door. Varian grimaces, but shakes his head.

“He won’t kill me.” That’s not great reassurance, “You need to go.”

Hugo’s hands go to Varian’s upper arms, staring deeply into those baby blue eyes. Varian looks scared, near terrified- it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair-

“Come with me.” Hugo says again, “I know you want your memories back, but we can find our own way- make new memories. You deserve better.”

“I can’t-”

“But you should. What’s left for you, living alone in this dusty old house?”

Varian’s eyes are watery, near tears. “I… okay.” He finally sighs. His head falls forwards, resting on Hugo’s chest. It’s a soft touch, the butterflies in Hugo’s stomach flutter.

“Yeah?” He asks, as if he can’t believe it. Varian looks up to meet his eye, smiling through watery eyes.

“Yeah.” He says, “Let’s go.”

“Leaving so soon, Varian?” Comes a third, male voice. The two teenagers whip around to face the double doors, tensing at the sight of a tall, muscular figure. The man walks into the house with a confident stride, followed by a small group of people. There’s a large man, a woman with a frankly massive amount of hair, and a small, portly, elderly woman. Hugo knows these people- and knows the man in front of him is the owner of the house. Donella had told him all about him, of course she had, she wasn’t stupid enough to send Hugo in unaware as to who he was messing with, but to see the man in front of him was a vastly different feeling. And Varian’s hands, shaking and gripping tight in pure fear, are enough to set Hugo on edge as the man draws closer.

Andrew of Saporia stalks into his destroyed main hall with a sense of confidence Hugo would kill to have. The blond’s always been a fake it till you make it kind of person; he keeps his back ramrod straight even as Varian’s hands grip tight enough to cut off circulation in his arms. Andrew looks to Hugo, but once his eyes flick to the floor before settling on Varian, he smiles.

“Come here, kid.” He says, holding a hand out, palm up. Varian tenses from behind Hugo, but still moves out from behind the blond. When he passes, blue eyes meet green, near tears.

“Sorry.” He whispers, walking to stand in front of Andrew. The man’s smile turns smug as the boy draws close, even as Varian shudders in fear. He takes Varian’s chin in a gentle grip, tilting it this way and that in a calculating manner. Varian goes with the motions, submissive; it makes Hugo’s blood boil.

“What happened?” It’s a flat question, but loaded. Varian bites at his lip, even as Andrew drops his chin and looks at him expectantly. The boy goes to answer, but Hugo’s faster.

“I found your freaky fucking house, is what happened!” He spits, moving forwards. Varian goes pale, wide eyes flicking between Andrew and Hugo with a sense of horror. Hugo draws up, nearly half a head shorter than Andrew but still trying to size him up. The blond shoves Varian behind him, putting himself between the two.

Andrew laughs, a bitter, angry thing as he looks between Varian and Hugo. “So this is what you’ve been up to while I was away?” He asks, as if Hugo’s not even here. The blond bristles, meeting Andrew’s eye.

“Your shitty spell locked me in here.” He spits, “Just like you did to Varian.”

Andrew shrugs, arching a brow. “It’s for his own good, poor little fool’s a blank slate.”

Varian shakes again, pressing tight to Hugo’s back- but the blond instead moves even closer to Andrew, scowling.

“It’s still fucked up, you son of a bitch-”

He’s cut off when he feels a large set of hands grab him by the shoulders, dragging him back and away from Andrew with a rough tug. Varian cries his name, but Hugo’s forced back and away by the large man- Kai, if Hugo’s information is correct- and held in place. Andrew smiles at that, looping an arm around Varian’s shoulders and pulling him into an awkward, one armed hug.

“Your boyfriend’s a little pissy.” He says to the smaller boy, looking at Hugo with a smug face. Varian looks downright miserable, refusing to look anywhere but the floor. Hugo’s blood boils at the flippant way Andrew’s treating Varian, like an object, a toy-

“Boss.” One of the women, the younger one, says, entering the room from outside. She carries a helmet, one of golden metal and carved into an intricate design. The woman tosses it to the ground at their feet, scowling. “It’s just guard uniforms- we can’t use this for shit, Andrew.”

“Could you put a pin in that, please, we’re in the middle of something,” Andrew sighs. The man pauses, however, when Varian twitches. Hugo watches with abject horror as Varian stares at the helmet, his eyes suddenly glowing a horrifying white, taking over the entire shape of Varian’s eyes, eating away until there’s no blue to be seen. The Coronian emblem carved into the helmet stares back up at him.

“Aw fuck,” Andrew spits, moving so that he holds Varian by the shoulders. The boy’s nearly limp, twitching as if in seizure; his lips move like he’s talking, though Varian makes no noise. Hugo watches with terror as Varian violently seizes in Andrew’s grip. The man scowls, shaking the boy lightly.

“Fuck, Juniper.” Andrew sounds furious, looking to the woman. “You set him off again- son of a bitch, we just wiped him, now we’re going to have to do it again.”

Hugo struggles again as Varian’s eyes blink once, twice, a third time; the next time they open they’re back to their normal blue, but terrified.

“Rapunzel!” He screams, falling to the floor. Andrew lets him drop, glaring at Juniper. Varian covers his mouth in pure terror, tears welling up in his eyes. There’s something new in them, Hugo realizes with a start. Before, there had always been a layer of confusion and cloudiness in Varian’s eyes, like he was never really fully aware of what was happening. Now?

Now Varian is very awake.

“Welcome back, buddy,” Andrew sneers, looming over the boy on the floor. Varian glares up at him with a look of such malice- Hugo didn’t even know he could make that kind of face at all, to be honest, but Varian pulls it off rather well.

“Andrew!” He spits, pushing himself off the floor, “You fucker-”

“Oh, every time we do this, you’re always so upset.” Andrew tuts. Varian tries to swing a punch at the taller man, but the brunet catches him by the wrist, tugging Varian close. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Fuck you!” Varian shouts. It echoes around the hallway like the ringing of a funeral bell. “You kidnapped me you sick son of a bitch!”

Oh. Oh shit a lot of things suddenly click in Hugo’s mind. A dawning sense of horror floods his veins at the realization of just what’s been going on hits him like a train. He’d feared Varian was just some poor schmuck who’d been tricked into partial slavery by this asshole but-

“Yeah.” Andrew snickers, “And your precious big sister’s been nice and compliant while you’ve been staying here.”

Fuck.

The tears in Varian’s eyes threaten to spill over, the rage on his face something beautiful. He roughly fights Andrew’s grip on him, but can’t hope to break the man’s hold.

“It’s been a good year.” Andrew’s grin gets sharper, flashing in the weak sunlight. “This is what, round four or five? Every time I think we’re in the clear you just have to start remembering, kid; it’s a pain in my ass.”

“Good!” Varian hisses, and Hugo can see a sudden tenseness in his spine.

Things happen very quickly after that.

Varian draws a foot back and slams his heel into Andrew’s knee with a sharp movement. The crack of bone is loud in the echoing hall, but Andrew’s scream of pain quickly overtakes it. Varian pulls himself from the man’s laxing grip, using his few seconds of shock well. Kai’s hands drop from Hugo’s shoulders, the larger man moving to help his leader. Hugo sprints for Varian before he can figure out anything else, the two of them making a break down the hall opposite from the library.

Andrew’s angry shouting trails after them as they run, the sound of footsteps dogging their heels. Hugo ends up tugging Varian into the room he’d snuck into the mansion from. Together they grab one of the couches, dragging it across the floorboards and shoving it against the wooden door. The door rattles on its hinges as the Saporians yell for them to open it, the banging quickly turning aggressive.

“Time to go,” Hugo says with a small bow, gesturing towards the open window. Varian nods, taking the que and hopping out in a smooth motion. The blond follows, taking a second to scoop up his bag at long last as he does so. Something in him feels a little better at having his supplies with him, though he takes the time to part out a few bombs and pass them to Varian before they move on.

“Here.” He says, shoving them into Varian’s hands. “Just in case.”

Varian’s face is grim, but determined. They sprint around to the front of the house, stopping around the corner and peeking around the siding to see the Saporians out front. The dead grass under their feet crunches, the lawn dying quickly with the ward destroyed. With the ward destroyed, the house is nothing more than a corpse.

“Find that little shit!” Andrew barks, limping. “We need him, if he escapes, and gets back home, we’re fucked-”

“What a morning.” Hugo grumbles. Varian snorts, backing off.

“You’re telling me.” He mutters. “You can’t imagine the headache I have.”

“But you remember?” It’s pretty obvious he does, but Hugo has to make sure. Varian nods, looking a mile away. The smile that creeps across his face is something sad, soft.

“I’m from Corona,” And oh, doesn’t he sound so happy to know that. “I have a sister- and a dad! We were fighting the Saporians… and they took me, to keep her from attacking them.”

“Shit, goggles.” Hugo mutters, “Can’t be fun.”

“They kept wiping my memories.” Varian looks haunted. “Over and over. I’d start to remember who I was, who my family is, and they’d just…” He holds up a hand to the side of his head and moves it away with a flutter of his fingers. “Gone. No more. Until I remembered again.”

“Fuck.” Hugo hisses. “Time to get out of dodge, get you away from them. Guess you don’t have a quick way out?”

“The Saporians use balloons.” Varian peeks back out past the corner. Andrew and his cronies have moved on in their search, leaving, lo and behold, a hot air balloon parked on the lawn. Hugo nods, already thinking.

“Think you can fly it?” He asks, and Varian scoffs.

“I built the thing.” He says, something like pride in his voice. “Fastest balloon in the seven kingdoms, right there. They stole it the night they… well the night I came to live here.”

He looks to Hugo then, the fear long gone. All that’s left there is fury, and a solidified decisiveness. It’s an incredibly attractive look on him; something in Hugo likes this newer, more grounded Varian. The way he walks, maybe, or the newfound confidence- either way, it’s a nice thing to see. If Hugo also casually keeps the reminder that Varian was indeed single in mind… well that’s only for him to know.

They make their way across the dead grass. It’s open space between the house and the balloon, a risky venture; they could be spotted easily without anything to hide behind, and so close to the house. They’d already lost track of the Saporians- and a missing enemy was a dangerous one. The balloon is a marvel of engineering, a perfect interlock of gears and alchemy that makes Hugo drool. Varian works the machine like it’s an old friend, quickly starting the fire.

“Just have to wait for it to heat up.” He says to Hugo, who nods. “Shouldn’t be more than a minute- shit, Hugo look out!”

The blond barely has time to think before something solid collides with his head. A flash of fiery pain bursts from the place he’s hit, Hugo crumping to the floor of the wicker basket. His ears ring with a high-pitched toll, his vision swims-

But over all of it, he can hear Varian scream.

Hugo’s vision fuzzes in and out in a series of images in between each blink, the world flipping in and out in short, disjointed bursts.

The first, the blue sky. Fluffy, white clouds that gently float in the blue expanse. The very tops of trees around the edge. The feeling of being dragged, moved. The edge of the basket coming and going.

The second, laying on his side. Grass tickling his nose. His glasses askew. The sight of Varian being hoisted up and out of the balloon by Kai. The shorter boy snarls as the big lug manhandles him, kicking his legs furiously as his arms are pinned in what’s basically a bearhug.

The third, Andrew drawing closer to Varian with a look of pure malice. The younger teen squirming with rage as the man taunts him. Varian spitting in Andrew’s face. Getting slapped. Varian aiming another kick, getting smacked again.

The world finally stops spinning.

The ringing dies down, the noise of the world filtering back in piece by piece. Andrew’s holding something now, a dark… stick? No, fuck, that’s a wand. Probably the thing that they’ve used on Varian to wipe his memories, if the way those blue eyes widen in horror when Varian sees it is any indication.

“Get that away from me!” He yells, kicking harder. Andrew sneers, dodging a bare foot.

“Will you just knock it off!” Andrew snaps, raising a hand into the air to slap him again. Varian flinches back, tensing and waiting to be hit. The man smirks, dropping his hand and bringing the wand close to the boy’s face, as if mocking him.

Hugo’s up like a shot, ignoring a rush of vertigo, running for the three of them. None of the Saporians notice him, but the wand’s drawing close to Varian’s skin, only a hairsbreadth away-

The blond lets out a shout just as the wand makes contact.

Varian lets out a pained screech, his eyes glowing white just like they had before. Hugo keeps his inertia, using the speed to bodily tackle Andrew away from the smaller boy. He’s got a goo-bomb in his hand before he can think, bringing it down on Andrew and gluing the man to the dead grass. Andrew’s stunned by the sudden shift, but not for long. The man howls in rage as Hugo rolls off of him, out of range.

“You little shit!” He hollers, struggling against the goo keeping him pinned. The wand, snapped in half, lies next to him. Hugo only smiles, backing out of smacking range with a smug grin.

He whirls around, only just able to dodge a hollering Kai as the man runs forwards. With another well-timed bomb, Kai’s feet end up stuck as well, the man falling forwards with a thump. Andrew shouts again, a series of threats and half formed curses, but Hugo tunes him out, running for where Kai had seemingly dropped a limp Varian into the dirt.

He flips Varian onto his back, tapping lightly at freckled cheeks. “Oh, shit.” Hugo mutters, “Hairstripe? Hey, you in there? Want to maybe wake up?”

The boy groans, and it’s a great sound. Those blue eyes flutter open, fixing on Hugo with a curious expression.

“Who-?” Varian cuts himself off, looking around before settling back on Hugo. “Where… what’s happening?”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Varian?” Hugo asks, desperate, but already getting the sinking feeling in his gut. It only gets worse, a knot forming in Hugo’s throat when the name doesn’t spark any sort of recognition in Varian’s eyes.

“Who is that?”

Hugo’s heart breaks. He grits his teeth, leaning back. They have to move. They have to leave, but… Varian looks at him with such curiosity, not a bit of recognition, and it hurts.

“You are, Sweetcheeks.” Hugo murmurs, “Your name is Varian, you’re from a kingdom called Corona.”

It doesn’t seem to do anything for Varian to know that, but he still nods, sitting up. His eyes land on Andrew, brows scrunching in confusion.

“Who are they?” He asks, looking at the hollering men.

“They’re… bad people.” Hugo replies, “They tried to hurt you. It’s why you can’t remember anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. We should get away from them.” Thankfully, Varian goes willingly, taking Hugo’s offered hand and letting the blond pull him to his feet. He leads Varian away from the Saporians, towards the balloon. Varian looks at the mansion with curiosity, tilting his head as they step aboard the wicker basket.

“Something about this place seems familiar.” Varian mumbles. He turns to Hugo, wearing that same expression. “Same with you.”

“We’re friends.” Hugo says. It’s bitter on his tongue, but he says it anyways. “I’m going to take you home-”

Wait.

“Wait here!” Hugo suddenly shouts, jumping from the balloon. He doesn’t stop to check if Varian follows the direction, instead sprinting back into the house. It’s like entering a tomb, the dust finally beginning to settle. The house feels hollow, strange.

But the helmet is still there.

Hugo scoops it up with deft hands, spinning on his heel and running back to the balloon. Varian’s still there, looking towards the house with a confused expression.

“Here!” Hugo shoves the helmet at him, gasping for breath after running. “Look at this, what do you think?”

“It’s… nice?” Varian says, arching a brow. “Is it yours?”

“No, it…” Fuck, he’d hoped that would have worked. “I was hoping it would help. It did before.”

The twisting sorrow in Hugo’s gut settles into a tight knot. Varian- the Varian Hugo knows and lo… likes very much- is probably gone. Who knows if he’d ever get his memories back? Tears prick at Hugo’s eyes, burning and hot. He’s not going to cry, damn it, but he’s coming close.

“Hugo, c’mon.” Varian sighs, “I already told you I don’t remember anything.”

Wait.

“Say that again.” Hugo demands, grabbing Varian by the shoulders. The younger boy pouts, shoving at him, but complies.

“I said,” His face twists into a little frown, “I don’t remember anything.”

“No, I- I never told you my name.” And he hadn’t. Which meant…

“I. No, you didn’t.” Varian pauses, thinking hard. “But I know you from somewhere. You’re Hugo.”

The blond smiles, the tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re Varian.” He says, like a mantra.

“You… you burned the pasta.” Oh. Oh shit- “And we had sandwiches.”

“Yes!” Hugo crows, “Yes, exactly! Keep going, goggles!”

“And then we listened to music, and I broke Andrew’s seal because-” Varian pauses, looking up at Hugo and blushing. The blond stops smiling, furrowing his brow.

“Because why?” He asks, confused as Varian leans forwards.

“Because I really like you.” Varian says firmly, “As more than a friend.”

Hugo can barely compute that statement before Varian leans close and seals their lips together in a soft kiss. It’s like a smoldering fire, lax and lazy like they have all the time in the world. It’s good, a kiss that’s delicate and would be easy to pull away from.

Hugo doesn’t.

>>><<<

It takes them a few days to get to Corona.

The rest of Varian’s memories came back in small spurts, flashes here or there as the effects of gaining, losing, and regaining the memories slowly took their course. It’s easy, though, the two of them piloting the hot air balloon towards Varian’s home. Calm. Quiet. Simple. Varian hangs off of Hugo like a limpet a lot of the time, insisting that it’s that he doesn’t trust Hugo not to crash, though the blond would call bullshit- he’s a better pilot that Varian is, when you get down to it.

The city looms before them, glittering and bright. Varian maneuvers the balloon down to the courtyard of the castle, avoiding the towers with prescience movements. Hugo can’t help but feel a pinch of dread as he does so, clinging to the basket and looking down as a group of people stare up at them.

“Well, they’ll definitely know we’re here.” He mutters, sinking down into the basket with a grimace. Varian only laughs, setting them down properly onto the cobblestone of the courtyard and switching the balloon off.

“It’ll be okay.” He says, “Rapunzel’ll already be freaking out, I’m sure.”

Lo and behold, a blur of purple sprints from the castle not a minute later. “Varian!” The woman screams, bowling the boy over in a frantic hug. “Ohmigosh you came home! Where were you, we looked everywhere, Andrew-”

Varian opens his mouth, tries to speak. Sobs. Clings to his sister just as tightly as she hugs him. The tears run thick down both their cheeks, the two of them clinging tightly together, rocking back and forth as they cry. “It was Andrew,” Varian finally spits out between the tears. “He had me in a mansion on the border, an old outpost-”

“He’s dead when I find him.” Rapunzel hisses, “I hope he enjoys a face full of frying pan-”

Varian laughs wetly, finally stepping back from his sister. “Hugo saved me.” He says, gesturing to the blond, who waves awkwardly. Rapunzel doesn’t seem to care for semantics, letting go of Varian to draw Hugo into a hug of his own.

“Thank you!” She crows. Hugo can’t breathe. “Thank you, thank you! I owe you everything!”

When she backs off, Varian shoulders closer to Hugo with a grin. “I think she likes you.” He whispers, and Hugo can’t help but laugh.

“That’s just because you like me.” He says it with an easy grin, like he’s sure of it. Varian smiles back, leaning up for a small kiss. Hugo meets him halfway, the two of them reveling in each other’s presence.

“I guess I do.” Varian smiles, “If I can remember what your name is.”

“Hardy-har.” Hugo mutters, “I should have left you in that shitty house.”

“But you didn’t.” Varian leans up again, eyes pleading.

“No.” Hugo says, already leaning closer. “I don’t think I could leave you behind after this.” Their lips meet again, the world shrinking down to just the two of them in their own little bubble.

Varian’s smile, when they separate, shines brighter than gold.

#varigo #varian #tangled the series #tts #fic #IT'S A BIG BOY TODAY JESUS LORD

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #401

“my love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses”

Do you typically do your makeup the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? IF I wear makeup, it's essentially always the same. Who is the last person you were in a room with just the two of you? What were you doing? Yesterday with Mom. We were trying to find the best deal on Eco Earth, a substrate we're getting for Venus. What was the last really good book you read, and what was it about? If we're talking REALLY good book, then The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. In short summary, it's a dystopian future novel where women are now basically just objects used only for repopulation, even having their names stripped from them. They follow very strict rules as society has returned to horrible misogyny. As a woman, the "oh my god, this is possible" aspect of it is terrifying, and it causes such a sense of disgust and urge to ensure women rights always continue to be fought for. Do you feel safe in your country? For the most part, I'd say. I guess. There are places I'd feel safer, though. How many meals do you eat a day? Three. Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No, but I was supposed to my senior year in high school; the seniors at my dance studio were always welcome to do a solo in celebration. Mine was a modern dance to "Coma White" by Marilyn Manson, wanting to tell a story about depression and how being medicated could feel, but I eventually decided like halfway through learning the choreography that I was just too nervous to do a solo. Have you ever sung a solo? No. When you go to McDonalds, what drink do you usually get? Coke. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? No. Do you own a designer purse? Definitely not. I'm not wasting that much money on something like that. What’s the weirdest rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself? Apparently, Jason and I had a baby in high school even though I was obviously never pregnant. To my knowledge, it was started by his ex. Who is now a good friend of mine lmaooo. Life is funny. What was your favorite Saturday morning cartoon growing up? Pokemon, of course. Would you ever have an affair? Nope. Would you ever have a one night stand? Nope. Where you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? No. What are your opinions on marijuana legalization? Legalize it, but treat it similarly to alcohol in that driving under the influence is illegal and punishable, and I believe you should be of a certain age. How about abortion? I am pro-choice. I was pro-life most of my own life, but now I am very firm about a mother being able to choose if she wants to endure a pregnancy or not. Like, that is a MASSIVE life event that almost inevitably changes - and sometimes traumatizes - people. I do believe a fetus is its own body and not part of the mother's, but rather in the mother's, but the belief that a woman decides what she wants in her body is her choice, too. I'm not very fond of people treating abortion as a simple, regular form of birth control, like it's nothing but an "lol whoops," but I still believe it is ultimately her decision, and she should always be free of judgment for doing what is best for her. Do you wear skirts or dresses more often? Neither. I wouldn't dare wear a skirt more so, though. What do you think about tipping at restaurants? There should always be an expected minimum, imo, unless the person was truly, sincerely, genuinely fucking awful. Waiters do not have an easy job, fight me about it, and they're just trying to survive while putting on a happy, jovial face, all the while dealing with hungry people who can be such assholes. I believe the actual tip should relate to actual service, but again, give them something. Would you ever get back together with any of your exes? One, absolutely. The other would take a shitload of consideration and proper communication on his part. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? No, because I don't like coffee. Do you usually befriend your coworkers, or do you prefer to keep work separate from your personal life? IF I had a job, I'd like to build a friendship with those I have to engage with almost every day. What is something you frequently forget? Dates, ages, names, what I was about to do five seconds before I forgot... Pretty much everything. My memory is frightfully poor. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? No. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? In my bed. Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? Both; my parents split when I was somewhere around 17, though, but I'd say there wasn't much more "raising" to do at that age. Have you ever stolen anything? If so, why? No. Have you ever plagiarized someone else's work? Hell no. What's your most-used mode of transportation? My mom's car. Have you ever taught someone else a useful skill? Not to my recollection. Does seeing everyone else's 'perfect lives' posted on social media ever bring you down or affect how you feel about yourself? It actually does, honestly. Not ALWAYS, but if I'm being honest, it does most of the time. I've contemplated deleting Facebook for that reason, but with is also comes things that make me happy, and I think I'd feel even more isolated without it. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? This is SO impossible for me to answer. I loooove Hostess and Little Debbie treats. I want to say honeybuns, but I also love those chocolate cupcakes with the white swirls on top, as well as Twinkies. Very few exist that I don't like. Do you/your family buy loafs from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? We just buy bagged bread. What’s the best news you’ve gotten lately? My APAP mask is definitively WORKING!!!!! :') Mom got an app that connects to the machine via Bluetooth that monitors the effectiveness of the mask, evaluating many factors of your sleep, and it's detecting a definite decrease in disruptive behaviors or something like that. It is so, SO encouraging to know that. ^And, the worst? Hm. Oh, probably some news on something serious a good friend is going through, but I don't feel it's my right to disclose what. It's just a very worrying and potentially dangerous issue that I wish I could help her with. Would you rather receive (or give) flowers, chocolates or jewelry? I'd appreciate any, but my fat ass is drawn to the chocolate, ha ha. What *I* would give would vary depending on what the person liked. How do you feel about coconut? Smells lovely, but is otherwise gross. ^ Ever cracked one open? No, but omg I've always wanted to, haha. What’s the best thing about being your gender? I guess the fact it's more "normal" and "accepted" to show our emotions. Fuck that generalization, though. I don't give a shit what your gender is, you experiencing emotions is NORMAL and welcomed to be expressed. ^ And the worst thing? The ability to be raped and impregnated by it. Do you do your part to save the earth? I don't do nearly enough. :/ We recycle, but that's about it. Well, none of us DARE to litter either, but I still don't feel like it's as much as the earth deserves from its denizens. Who do you think should have their portrait on a bill? I don't know or care. Why did you last feel exhausted? Yesterday was my niece's birthday, and I spent essentially ALL day playing with her and her brother. I have a very limited battery when it comes to kids, and I was running on empty for hours. My anxiety was SO high and I really needed a break from them, but they're too young to really understand that Aunt Britt can only socially run for so long before I'm completely burnt out, and TRUST ME, I was there for sure. I didn't want them to think they did something wrong, you know? I just had to keep going. I slept like a baby last night though for sure, haha. Have you ever used emotional blackmail to get your own way? Wow, no. Has anybody ever used emotional blackmail on you? No. Who did you last worry about and why? Sara for health reasons. Are you currently looking for a new place to live? Not actively, but Mom and I definitely want to move. We feel very out-of-place here in the suburbs. Which would you prefer as a view; mountains or the sea? Mountains. Do you have a mouse for your laptop? (Assuming you have a laptop) Yes. I canNOT play games with a trackpad. Do you apologize a lot? Extremely excessively. When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Do you mean like, for the wedding? In that case, probably the venue. Being a photography buff, I want a place I think is really pretty to have pictures taken. What’s something you complain about frequently? My legs hurting, my weight, and being hot. Do you have anything planned for the summer? Nope, and that's fine with me. I'd rather stay inside away from the heat. Who usually makes dinner in your household? My ma. Do you have a blog? Just on Tumblr. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? My mother does because of gerd, and at least when my father still lived with us, he snored super loud, too. Do you want to fix anything with anyone? Yeah, a few people. What shows do you watch? Right now, only Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Whenever The Edge of Sleep comes out, I will 110% be watching that, too, because Mark is a key actor in it. :') Plus the concept seems super cool. Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I don't know. Who was the last person you had a conversation with on the phone? Me mum. Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone specific? No, given it has like... one lyric, haha. Do you own any TV show soundtracks? No. Last thing you did that made you feel like an adult? I mean I guess sign myself in at the doctor's. What’s your favorite picture of your mom? Dad? Oh my god, there's a candid one I got of Mom laughing when she was posing as my subject for a photography assignment, and I cherish it with ALL my heart. I want to share it with essentially the whole world, but yeah, I'm not gonna put my mom's picture here. As for my dad, I like this one I took of us at Red Lobster for his birthday a year or two back. Last TV show series you finished? Fullmetal Alchemist with Sara. Favorite flavor of cream cheese? Regular. What US state would you like to visit? Alaska. Last meal you made yourself? I put a chicken pesto thing in the microwave earlier for dinner.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''whispers in the dark'' by skillet

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Brother Dearest Pt 15

Called off to meet up with some old school buddies Eddie was off for the day and with an early start you bought some flowers from Mrs Peppers stand and made your way to the cemetery. Right past the bustling city you found the zone of silence where the lost were laid to rest. Following the familiar path you found the trio of stones and already tearing up you nodded at Victor’s saying, “We have a friend a few lines over so we can give you a bit, Pipsqueak.” The pair of them kindly greeted your parents and uttered Steve’s name flatly and walked off saying, “If you need us we’re a call away.”

You nodded after passing them each a flower they kissed your cheeks in receiving and watched them go. Alone again your gaze dropped to the stone and in your green dress you lowered to crouch and set a single flower on your dad’s grave already feeling your face scrunch up.

The sniffle following in the drop of a tear down your cheek turned the heads of the guys seeing you wipe your cheek and look up trying to calm down reading the name etched in the polished stone. In a slightly squeaking whisper you said, “Hey Daddy.” Sniffling again. I’ve been away a while, I haven’t just been ignoring you. Got roped into nursing, Mom. But um,” weakly you squeaked out, “I’m ok. I’m back now.” Glancing down again leaving a flower for your mom too. “I, got medals. And my picture in the papers.” You sniffled again eyeing the final two flowers, “Daddy I don’t know if you could do what I can, but I can do so many things. But I swear I don’t use them unless I have to. And, I met Edie, she has a son few years younger than me. They were sent to these death camps. Broke out and we met in Paris, right after this big battle, it was huge. I think, even if I was a son you’d be proud of it…” hastily you wet your lips not knowing how deeply the words were hitting the men on the verge of tears staring at a practical stranger’s headstone they had helped bring home from the Civil War.

“And daddy I got my high school diploma, and all these schools have given me tours. Just visited Brown, going to Barnard next. You took those summer courses in Columbia that last year we had. And even President Truman invited us all out to the White House for a garden party, not sure what that entails. We met these brothers, we’re gonna be a family, me and Eddie spent the winter in Canada with them in their cabin. Got to see tons of animals and fish and hunt and even learn to cut down trees and make a bird feeder and little houses for them.” Again the guys were grinning.

“I’m not sure how school is going to go, or what’s going to happen. They’re not Catholic, or Jewish, so, who knows what some of the neighbors will say, but they’ve always been there and it really doesn’t matter. Because we’re safe now, and you’d love them Mom, you would too Dad. They bought our old building and we’re gonna fix it up, and maybe get a dog. Hopefully a huge fluffy one that loves to laze around and snuggle.” Sharply inhaling you wiped your other cheek dry, “We’re gonna do great things, you’ll see. And I’m not just going to be some housewife. I’m gonna work so hard, you’ll see, and I won’t ever forget what you both taught me.” Turning your head you said, “I just wish Steve, you could see it. Maybe then you wouldn’t have hated me so much. If you could have seen me grown up and know that I wasn’t your hassle anymore. Maybe you could have been an uncle, come around to talk, play charades or cards, helped to teach the kids the trumpet you could never get just right with those little lungs of yours.”

A flower was set down on his grave and James and Victor paced a lap through that row of stones to keep from racing back to you, “I think you could have been happy, after all this. We could have been friends. Heard you found a gal while you were in camp, our kids could have had a whole gaggle of cousins.” Again your voice cracked, “And you could have told me why-,” standing up you sniffled again holding the last flower you carried closer to the guys now turned to meet you that flanked you to see where you were going.

Victor’s arm wrapped around your back and he asked wiping away a stray tear, “You Alright?”

You nodded saying, “The Barnes’ are just over here.”

James, “Bucky then?”

You nodded, “Me and Eddie used to joke they might end up in lovers plots, side by side to the end of the line.”

James leaned over kissing your forehead, “They didn’t deserve you, you know.”

“The idiots still earned flowers at least. Never had any bodies to bury. Just stones. Bucky’s dad died hearing about him, his mom and sisters are still a few blocks over.”

Victor, “How old are they?”

“I think they were four when we left town.”

James, “How were his parents with you?”

“Not like Bucky. His dad owed money to the Brocks, drank a lot, used to play cards with them in the locked basement club.”

Victor, “Ah, so he knew who he was messing with when it came to you.”

You shrugged, “Stayed to himself most days, then he’d just show up, looking, mangled. Like he’d been drug around town and he’d come to the pool hall but he’d always swing at anyone but he wouldn’t touch me. One time I was in the back and he broke the door down and I was so scared but he saw me and turned away, started shouting for Dave breaking the other doors till he got thrown out. Used to think maybe, like my head zings. Maybe I did something to keep him away.”

Down the proper row you went and stopped at Bucky’s stone unsure of what to say just laying the flower on top of the stone. “I wish we could have known each other better, and you had more than just Steve to come after you in that camp. Bye Bucky.”

The pair eyed the picture of him left at the stone and turned with you. Warmly Victor’s lips met your forehead and he hummed out, “Come on, museum tour. Let’s go see what this state has to offer since our last visits.”

Museum of natural history, Museum of modern art, Brooklyn museum, New York historical society, Metropolitan museum of art three full days dedicated to soaking up all you could while Eddie relaxed enjoying time with his friends.

Each one opened for you and in a near grueling path through the city you managed simple tours of each. Including sections where the guys shared their own additions of events they had lived through with even a portrait they were both odd blob like figures in the back of they recalled exactly what had occurred while the artist was painting nearly making you burst out laughing. The last place being your safe haven, the crowning glory of your childhood, the New York Public Library.

“Ooh, lions.” Victor hummed snapping a picture of the one you were walking towards.

“This one’s Fortitude.” They glanced at you and you added, “The other one is named Patience.”

James, “So sweet.” Making you roll your eyes in his palm pressing to yours and fingers weaving together.

“Oh, good Lord…” Victor said tilting his head back inspecting the front hall of the library, “I should have expected this, but I didn’t… wow..”

Smirking to yourself you led the way in as the pair of architecture nerds adored each book and cranny of this place. You didn’t have long before it closed and there was just one stop you had to make. Straight to the office you went and were spotted right away by the little lady behind the counter who grinned widely. “Oh, there you are!” Giggling softly you approached the desk and James releases your hand so her hands on the counter between you could cradle yours in her loving gaze, “You’ve grown. Why the last time you were here you could barely see over the counter.” Making you smirk again. “Let’s get you a new library card, Miss Pear.”

After a step back her hands released yours and she said, “I will have you know it was stunning to have just stopped seeing you. Thought you might have been moved out of the city to relatives but then one day your face just popped up in the papers, receiving medals of valor and for service. Even out here there was an article President Truman himself was quoted in that you were among the most stunning of our returned heroes. Shot three times in service,” Her eyes focused on you while her hands continued to move through the task of making your card she filled out by memory. “Why I nearly choked on my breakfast reading that, but here you are intact and fully grown now. And that face, I could have known that face and smile anywhere. Welcome home my dear, to the state and the library.”

She looked at the men, “Why there wasn’t a weekend through school we wouldn’t find her curled up with a mountain of books just grinning as she blew through them. Wasn’t the same without you.” She said with her eyes on you again in her move to bring you the new card she folded into your palm, “Oh, I kept a list of all the new books for the sections you read through.”

Victor chuckled, “Sections?”

The woman nodded, “Any school would be thrilled to have such a mind among their alumni.”

Victor nodded, “We’re set to tour Barnard next week.”

She gasped, “Oh that is a great school! Well done!” Then she looked to the men sliding them two slips of paper, “Of you’ll fill these out I’ll have your cards out in a jiffy.” A stolen glimpse of the endless books and the hall of tables the men admired was all you were able before they had to lock up stirring grins on the faces of the guards recognizing you and welcoming you back again.

“I’m going to go make some meatloaf, loudly.” Victor said in a smirk earning an eye roll from you on your way up to the bedroom to change. James behind you smirked in removing his shoes he left by the door only to follow after you in Victor’s push to steal some time alone with you.

“I have a library card.” The words deepened the already spreading grin on his face in easing the door shut eyeing your excited twisting stance in the steps out of your heels unhooked in a backwards lift of each one to undo behind your back. It was a simple fact but the joy and pride in it had you as the most attractive person on the planet to him even more so than the rest of your days he utterly adored you.

“I noticed.” He hummed mirroring your steps closer. “It suits you, all those books…”

In the tracing of your fingers up his tie while you rose up on your toes he leaned in melting into the kiss clearly coming and a low hum left him in the hand stroking across his jaw, cheek and then into his hair. A dip of his later and at his side your legs were curled through his lifting you off the ground carrying to the bed. Over you he stretched out blindly weaving his legs with yours adoringly refusing to be the one to end the deepening lip lock. Under the vest you had undone muscles flexed against your palm sliding over the shirt covering his torso to clench on his back melting him even more against you. Sharply the phone by the bed rang making you flinch and break the kiss only to weakly chuckle. “Never did get used to phones. We never had one.”

Victor answered downstairs, and in a dip of James’ hand into his back pocket he pulled out his kerchief to wipe the lipstick off your face making you giggle again. “We don’t have to have one if you don’t like them.”

“We should have one. Just in case.” You said taking the cloth to wipe off his own face that when clean was stealing another kiss from you.

“Whatever you say,” stroking the side of your cheek in an adoring gaze, “I’m gonna build you an incredible library.”

“Careful, I may just take that as a proposal,” he wanted to smile, every muscle in his face wanted to shift into the biggest dopiest grin only to lose focus halfway in the warm lingering hold of your lips to his.

Again your lips broke and teasingly his nose stroked the side of yours in a ghost of his lips across yours, “I’m gonna build you that library and pack it with as many odd books as I can find that wouldn’t seem like a library would have them. All for you.”

Tracing a finger down his cheek his lips met the tip of your nose and your eyes eased from his blurry nose up to his refocusing adoring gaze, “What do you get out of it?”

“I get to build you a library, fill it and then watch you enjoy it.”

“That’s all?”

“It’s so much more than that, and you know it, My Darling.”

All at once in a moment his gaze flickered from unending adoration to something else in the press of his palm to mold against your cheek, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he hummed back brushing a thumb across your cheek tenderly.

“Looking at me like I’m leaving.” Over you it washed again his lifetime of loss before he had met you, up you leaned to close the distance closing his eyes again with a tender kiss. Down on the pillow your head laid again and his eyes scanned over your face puzzled at what to say, what could be the right thing to say knowing he could be facing that agonizing loss and betrayal of time again to be with you. “I read once before the big bang that created the universe there were millions of atoms just floating around together.”

“Really now,” he smirked melting into what he assumed to be you changing the subject.

“All the atoms in the universe were pressed together in this one cluster until it all exploded.” His brows inched up in amusement through a creeping grin at your soft blush prickling across your cheeks. “For 13.7 billion years we’ve been bumping around this universe,” Instantly his grin split into a wide smile, “The moment you opened that door I knew you. You bumped into me once and you hit me again, I felt like I’d been looking for you everywhere. You’re mine, I’m-,” Firmly his lips melted onto yours into a seemingly endless kiss leaving you breathless and him barely able to whisper.

“You are the most stunning creature on the planet with that endless mind of yours. One day there’s going to be billions of books available with a flick of your adorable finger and I’m gonna make sure we live to see it. I give you my word on that if I have to build it myself.”

“You are skirting dangerously close to-,”

“Oh trust me, I am going to propose, but it certainly won’t be in a room with clowns on the wallpaper in the john.” Unable to help it you melted into giggles through his own chuckles, nuzzling into his chest to just hold each other close sharing hopes for the future you would see shape together through the rest of your lives.

“Excited?” He rumbled in your move to sit up, his hand trailing down your back with fingers locking into your curled ponytail when he sat up in a gentle guiding hint to turn your head allowing him to kiss you again.

“About the clowns?” You teased making him chuckle again and drop his arm to rest around your side.

“Visiting Barnard. I do hope it’s better than Brown was.”

With a sigh your head tilted to rest against his shoulder, “Who knows. Maybe all I’ll end up as is a wife-,”

James scoffed, “You are not. No matter what you want we will make certain you get it. No matter how many etiquette blunder heads we have to sift through.”

Giggling softly you parroted back, “Blunder heads?”

He gave a curt nod, “Can’t think of a better insult right now without being rude. They’re just ladies following the path they’re allowed, we just need to break that path wide open. We can do it.”

“If I don’t kill anyone first.” Tilting your head back you said, “Oh, Momma Brock wanted us to go to Mass Sunday. Father Thomas wanted to speak with us. Did the same for all the boys coming home afterwards.”

James locked eyes with you in your shift back and he asked, “Did you want us to go?”

“You don’t have to. Not the most entertaining way to spend your Sunday.”

“It never is. I know our church used to last hours, tiny cramped with no heat or air circulation long before modern soaps and dental hygiene.”

“Oh, poor teddy bear.” That had you giggling in his scooping you up onto his lap smiling to himself at your forehead pressing to his, adoring the feel of your arms circling his shoulders. “What horrors you must have faced.”

“You have no idea. You think I smelled bad you should be glad you didn’t know half of my friends and neighbors. I am glad you did not have to live then with this adorably powerful nose of yours.”

“I would have lived in the woods.” Making him chuckle again in his next peck on your nose.

“I would have followed you there. No doubt you’d still smell like apples.” Kissing your nose again stirring another giggle from you.

With a wiggle of your shoulders your dress fell to the ground and a reach under your slip had your bra off and laying on the chair soon joined by your stockings and garter belt. Onto the bed you climbed and settled against the pillows brushing the covers down in a glance your way James smirked seeing your arms circling your legs pulled up to your chest. “I know that look.” He said tossing the tank top he threw on top of your clothes.

“Do you now?”

Undoing his belt he walked to the chair dropping his pants he added to the pile along with his socks then crossed to the bed to settle down beside you sliding his arm behind your back, “We have an early train.”

Sliding down on the bed as he did you turned onto your side, “I know that. There’s no look.”

Smirking through a chuckle he rumbled back shifting his head to face you brushing his nose against yours, “My mistake.” Planting his lips on yours in a loving kiss.

Afterwards he shifted with his free arm used to shut off the lamp by the bed then glanced your way in his adjusting the covers higher over you both smiling at your peck on his cheek. Tenderly your hand settled on top of his chest and deeply he exhaled in your fingertips gliding across his skin through the dark patch of hair. “My Dad had this picture, one I found in his book of favorite quotes. He had me on his chest, right here.” You said circling your fingers on that spot, “Used to say I wouldn’t sleep unless I was here. Do you think-,”

When your voice broke off his arm tightened around your back and he pressed a warm kiss to your forehead, “When we have children we can photograph them wherever you like on me.”

Softly you replied nestling your head against his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Victor wouldn’t let a moment go by undocumented. No doubt we’ll have ample with him as well. We will get through this together when the time comes.”

“How long did you want to wait?”

“For babies?” You nodded and he snuggled more around you after another kiss on your forehead, “After the wedding, few years at least if nature allows, so we can get you a firm footing. There’s no rush for all of that. We’ll get there, no pressure, just sleep.”

Lost in the middle of a ‘fun’ questionnaire at a club you had been somehow wrangled into once they had realized your name was the same as that of one of the potential students to woo James’ eyes turned to the den mother in charge of this side of the room’s sparse gentleman guests. “Miss Pear is quite the catch. Will she be moving close by?”

Eddie nodded saying, “We’ve got a place we’re going to fix up over the summer in Brooklyn, bit of a ride but it’s worth it.”

She nodded and forced a grin stating, “The four of you.” Again she forced a grin and asked, “Now, Mr Pear, clearly you two are related, but I am curious how, you two gentlemen are related to Miss Pear. We do have strict moral guidelines we wish from our pupils.”

James shifted a bit closer making her a bit nervous at first until she caught his gossiping grin, “If you can keep it a secret, a family ring is being resized. We’re an item now, but by September we’ll be engaged. And my brother Victor is gonna help us set up the house. Plenty of space.”

Eddie nodded, “Ample room, to grow into.”

She caught the hints and they could tell the silently tarnished reputation she had assumed that was also rippling through those you had met so far and withholding her gleeful gasp she said lowly, “Well that is just wonderful. And no doubt we will be honored to have her among the masses of minds to mold until situations change, that is.”

James smirked saying, “Call me a bit out of fashion, but, I admire her fire more than anything. Just that spunk to face anything. I wouldn’t dare try to smother that. For now family can wait, we all want to see how far she can go, and we can go, together.” She was stunned for a moment and he added, “This is a great school, it would be a shame to keep her here for just six months. Her father left funds for her schooling and we want to honor that, a sort of way to get his blessing for us.” Sentimentally her grin twitched wider and she turned to glance over the room allowing her a moment to keep from tearing up at the kind gesture from a man assumed to want to rule over his spouse.

Across the room however the brunette charged with guiding you around asked, “So, when are you and your fiancé settling down? It would be nice to know how soon we will be losing you.”

“You won’t be.” Her brow inched up, “We’re not engaged,” in her shifting expression you added, “It’s only been half a year,” her expression switched in confusion and you said, “But we’ve talked about families and James and Victor bought the building my family used to live in,”

That made her gasp, “The building?”

You nodded, “We’re going to remodel it before school starts and I’ll commute from there.”

“What does he do?”

“Well he was a Colonel, how we met,”

“Aww, I love a man in uniform.”

Smirking for a moment you paused then said, “Back in Canada there’s a lumber mill they work for.”

“Ooh, well we can’t wait to hear more about them when you join us.”

The female Professors were more of the same, all asking about the guys and how you would restore your honor in their eyes, with each of them calming at the rippled rumor of plans to come. The male Professors however, the few that there were, each held little interest in teaching just another future housewife wasting their time by taking up a seat.

Yet their smug grins faded when in the physics classroom you wiped away a word in the quote written across the board. Two of them got upset until you quoted it back to them word for word finding the book and correct spot stirring up a round of questioning leading to their realizing you had memorized more than half of the books they had set out on display in the classroom and had a vague knowledge of what the others held. Science clearly was your chosen field and they were uncertain of how long you would stay but all of them held a shared curiosity for what the next semester would bring. One class you had considered but nearly brushed aside was Mythology, mainly focused on Norse Mythology by a Professor Elliot Randolph.

The short man just barely your height with your heels grinned at you in the sea of young women practically ignoring the men around you. “Miss Pear,” his hand remained at his side but with a nod of his head had you looking him over a bit confused at his almost eager greeting. “My name is Elliot Randolph. This would be my first semester here. And I heard you might be considering this school. Are you interested in Mythology?”

“I haven’t really touched on it yet.”

“Ah,” his eyes lit up and he stepped aside allowing a group past. “Well then I don’t doubt you wouldn’t enjoy it. Everyone loves a good story. Grand deeds, sinister motives and plots. Centuries of stigma and history all tangled in these magnificent creatures who could do spectacular things, heirs to the Gods.”

A motion of his hand to his classroom had him showing you a brief intro on what was around the room. Subtly it seemed he was wooing you in with hints of stories on these stunning creatures and lands from long ago and as another string of ladies came in you said, “I think you might have just convinced me to give Mythology a shot.”

At that his grin split widely into a smile, “Oh that is wonderful news. I have seen your record and I can tell you will be a marvelous student. I shall dust off my best in anticipation of granting you a challenge on learning past what is in the text.”

“I look forward to it, Mr Randolph.” The women swooped in and swarmed him causing your slip away. Hushed conversation on the eager Professor in the bunch ended at another aid coming to guide you to your next set of courses to meet those Professors as well.

Nearly all your classes would be on the women’s campus, but three of the ones you would want to take guided your tour to the men’s campus. There the men in your group were drawn forward and boasted to endlessly on the benefits of the campus until the Professor came to greet James with his hand extended, “And am I to assume I have another group of boys in blue to join my ranks of minds to mold?”

James shook his head, “No, we’re here with my girl,” his head nodded your way turning his head to the stack of books on his desk you were reading the titles of. “Moral support and all that. She wasn’t in blue, neither were we, Canadian Forces.”

The Professor nodded, “Ah, yes, another Nurse, lo-,”

Victor cut him off, “Corporal,” that turned the heads of the potential students and Professor, “Corporal Pear, Medic of the Canadian Forces, first woman to have earned an officers position and to earn the Medic patch.”

The Professor asked, “How’d she manage Corporal? That’s what, E-4?”

“I got shot,” his head turned to you and you flashed him a wide grin, “Three of your books have been discredited. I hope they’re not on the syllabus.”

His brow inched up and he moved closer as you named them and the man who disproved their theories making him scoff, “Communist rhetoric.”

“He’s Swedish,”

“My point exactly, I don’t bend to foreigners opinions in my classroom.”

You nodded, “Then I suppose all Greek and Roman Philosophers would be banned as well, leaving, well, not much really once you drop all the books from Eastern Europe.”

His eyes narrowed, “Clearly you do not understand just how vast this subject is and I doubt you could begin to comprehend-,”

“Mr Crane, I could fill a naval carrier with all the doubts people have had about me. You don’t have to like me, but I do suppose we will have to wait until the first lecture to see which one of us wins on grounds of competency.” His mouth dropped open, “Because I’ve read two thirds of the books on physics in the New York Public Library so far, and I do hope with that big brain of yours you might be able to see past the dress and try not to talk to me like I’m some idiot waiting on my pot roast to bake.”

“For competency’s sake, I do, hope, you do arrive ready for a battle of wits.”

Smirking to his back in his turn away you fired back, “I’m not the one who’s unarmed.” The phrase halting him in his tracks making him turn only to see you walking with your smirking men around you on the way to your next class a few hallways over, “Clearly we’ll be best friends.”

James chuckled lowly easing his hand across your back through the sea of staring men looking you over from head to toe. “Once he licks his wounds.”

Victor, “Sweden is Communist,” your group chuckled, “Who’d have thunk.”

Again you giggled saying, “Hopefully the Philosophy Professor won’t have negated his syllabus as well.”

James rumbled back, “If he has it would be a very glum class. Glum and dull.”

This one at least spoke to you and seemed eager to have another woman in the class, sharing that his own daughter would be attending one day hopefully. It did seem word got around that he was more respectful of a Professor for female students leading to their taking his course over the other male Professor. The day wasn’t a complete failure in your self esteem as you left the joint campus closing ceremony looping James’ arm around your back by swinging your joined hands over your head drawing a smile from him to you. Clearly for the men this wasn’t the same education the men would be getting but no doubt you could get the degrees you wanted and fill in the blanks. Against his side you slumped slightly anxious for all of this, wanting to forget the lingering male students staring your way.

All the way to the station you stayed under his arm only to end up seated by Eddie on the train on the seat across from the brothers, who got pulled into a conversation with the little girl beside Victor that lasted until she got off the train a few stops before yours. Smiles came from the pair and when the people around you left they jumped at the chance to sit beside you. Victoriously James slung his arm around you again making you giggle in his splitting grin and peck on your forehead.

A stop at the markets came with mingling people in town all glad to see you at mass the following morning and followed with a jumble of arms in the kitchen to make dinner. As if you blinked you were laid out on your side in bed feeling yourself drift off in the warm body easing up behind you to fold around you tightly.

…

In a floral white blouse tucked into your navy skirt you adjusted the waistband turning in front of the mirror on your toes spotting James in the mirror holding up your black heels he bent to help you into. Gently kissing each knee in buckling the strap around your ankle while you secured the side of your hair back with a pink petal coated pin that would be seen under the navy bowknot fascinator of your mother’s the Brocks had brought over from storage. “You look very beautiful, in a modest and religiously respectful sort of way.”

Giggles escaped you and your hands smoothed over his vest deepening his grin, “You can put down the shovel, and thank you.”

When your hands moved to the tie he left slung over his chest he smoothed his hands around your hips and asked, “I’m not going to have to sit across the room from you am I?”

“No. Just unfortunately can’t hold hands through it.”

Lowly he chuckled, “Kind of figured that part.” His eyes lovingly inspecting your expression while you tied his tie for him and tucked it into his vest smoothing your hands over it again.

“You don’t have to go.”

“I know,” Leaning in his lips tenderly pressed to yours and he said, “This is a part of your life. They are all Catholic and welcoming you home. If it helps, I suppose you could call me lapsed. Hard to have religion if you can’t die and have spikes jutting out of your fists. Wars didn’t help either.”

After wetting your lips you asked, “What happens if I don’t die?”

Deeply inhaling his eyes locked on yours again and he answered, “We’ll be here for you. Always.”

You nodded and said, “We should go.” Turning to grab the white gloves and your purse holding your mother’s rosary. Down you went and with the others and into the sidewalk you went joining the other families on the way to the gothic church seeming more ominous than when you were little. From the walk in past the bowl of holy water used for people to mark a cross over their head, shoulders and chest to claiming your seat on one of the rows the Brocks usually took up you settled after a rusty step back through all the tiny details.

The lengthy mass and words after flooded into the group pot luck in the hall and gardens behind the church for the returned soldiers upon the looming anniversaries of certain battles. Yet alone you walked inside with Father Thomas after his time speaking with Eddie alone, “I am glad you were able to come home to us. You have been a steady fixture on our prayer lists.”

“Thank you, Father.”

His hand motioned and inside his office you stepped and stood in front of one of the leather chairs as he closed the door behind himself. Straight to his chair on the other side of the desk he asked, “I know it has been some time since you have attended our services,” you nodded still keeping the rosary tucked in your palm with your thumb stroking one of the beads in a subtle way. “I have offered a sort of counseling session with each of the boys returned home, I wished to offer that to you. War, war is a very troubling time on the soul. Are you finding any difficulty in your return?”

“To be perfectly frank,” he nodded, “I was 15 when we got moved to Canada, 16 when our Hospital was attacked. I was terrified, but I was a kid and now I’m almost 21. The men all looked after me, kept me safe, never treated me like I was beneath them. And I come back here, and it’s dresses, heels, make up, all these lessons and back to a world where the best thing I could ever hope to achieve is get married and have babies.” He nodded again, “Please don’t get me wrong I know the birth of woman and their roles in the gospel is to serve their father’s and then husbands, just, I have a brain, and opinions, and I want to do great things. We went to Barnard college yesterday and even there the male Professors just look at us like we’re cattle, wasting his time because all we will ever be is someone’s wife.”

Lowly he chuckled, “It is troubling. I know my niece had a hard time last Spring with a project her teacher demanded a boy handle even though she was the best juggler in the theater group. I also know you, I never saw you without a book, or pile of them. They will bend to your stubborn will.” Slowly he let out a breath and said, “I would like to offer my sincerest condolences for your brother, Steve.” It was your turn to nod, “I understand he wasn’t the best guardian, but he did serve honorably. You will always have family here, even if you are tied to marry a Canadian. Is he Catholic?”

“Lapsed, his family was. He’s faced a lot of loss, but he’s supportive of my coming here, if that is what you are worried about.”

He shook his head, “No doubt. We have heard great things. We all look forward to getting to know him better. You will be down the block after your old building is rebuilt.”

Anxiously you wet your lower lip and said, “I have a question,”

“Of course, ask away.”

“When we were going through Paris, a bit after Normandy, I ran into a cousin and aunt of mine I didn’t know I had.” His brow inched up, “They had broken out of a death camp,” parting his lips, “Turns out my father’s family was Jewish, he came to New York to be safe. My question is, if he was Jewish does that mean I have to be too?”

Shaking his head he said patting his hand on the table in a comforting way, “Truly if his intention was to protect himself and his family by not telling you or forcing your mother to change her religion it would not be mandatory for you to convert. And I can say this truthfully, none of us would turn you or your relatives away for not being Catholic. Truly they have been through harsh faces of the world and we will pray for them to find comfort, are they still in Paris?”

You shook your head, “No, James and Victor helped Eddie set up travel to get them to Canada. Erik’s in a great school now, Edie’s got a good job. They’re finding comfort again.”

“That is good news. Marvelous news.” He looked you over again in your glance at the rosary in your hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get comfortable. But, I feel so out of place. I killed a lot of people. I won medals, but, that doesn’t change anything. I’ve done terrible things, and I’m just supposed, to come to mass…”

Onto his feet he stood and walked around the desk to sit in the chair beside yours drawing your attention to him in his hand patting the arm of your chair, “Absolution comes in time. I can tell you have repented, truly remorseful. Peace will find you.”

“In time.”

He nodded, “Yes, more troubling than helpful right now. Until then, we should eat.” You nodded and joined him on your feet again walking with him out to rejoin everyone else taking up the seat Eddie saved for you and the plate Victor had filled for you while James fetched drinks wading through the women trying to talk to him.

Pt 16

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#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed #Eddie Brock #Venom

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