#what would you do if you saw this guy skittering on all fours towards you at 3am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Between Fifth and You

(cw in tags)

chapter one

“Olives or twist?”

Sirius had to watch the barkeep’s mouth to make out the words beneath the pounding music, which meant Sirius caught the way his eyes skittered across his face almost fearfully. The sheer amount of obsidian in this place probably did nothing to lighten his features. Not to mention, few people knew how to look him in the eye.

“Twist,” he said.

The man nodded and flipped the bottle of gin until it dipped into a shot glass, the glass into the ice. Sirius watched until he was stirring the bitters in and a hand appeared on his shoulder, lips to his neck.

“Burn this,” Saint said, and plucked at Sirius’ shirt sleeve, rubbing the black material between his fingers. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he turned. Saint’s own shirt was unbuttoned half way down his hard chest, light brown skin warm in the flashing club lights. “You’ve worn it too many times.”

“Hello to you, too,” Sirius said. “I like this shirt.”

“I liked it two months ago,” Saint replied. “It’s September now, your highness.”

Sirius scoffed as the bartender slid him his drink.

“You gonna tell everyone the sun did that?” Sirius took a clean sip of gin with one hand and stroked his other through Saint’s gold curls, only suddenly some of the slightly course strands were almost white.

Saint’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t it nice to have a mystery to think about?”

“Oh, yeah, do blonds have more fun?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

The music kicked up a beat that Sirius felt through his spine.

“Why do we always come here?” he leaned a hip against the bar. “We have an entire city.”

“Yeah, fuck the rest of the world, we have one whole city.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saint shook his head. “Because that’s what we do. You see that guy over there? I’ve taken him out four times. Couldn’t tell you his name. They couldn’t tell you mine.”

“Everyone knows your name, Saint.”

Saint grinned. “Maybe. But why do we go back to each other? Because we’re creatures of fucking habit.” Saint cocked his head, stole Sirius’ drink. “And what is this city but a bad, bad habit?”

Sirius’ blood cooled and he looked away.

What am I, Sirius? said the familiar voice from his memory. Am I easy? Am I safe? Do you want me, or am I just familiar now?

He closed his eyes against the memory of his reply.

Bad habit indeed.

XOXO

Spotted—a familiar face from the past. What has this train brought in? Thanks to a tip from @magicinthemaking, I bring you this picture of none other than Remus Lupin (and a certain Southern bell we know and love) under Grand Central’s stars. We missed you, Re—how was England? Or was it Europe?

The rumors can never seem to decide, but why the sudden change in plans to take his Junior year abroad? Here we were thinking he wanted nothing more than to stay.

I wonder how another certain star will feel about this sudden homecoming. And just in time for senior year’s Fall semester, too.

XOXO.

Remus adjusted his suitcase, glad he’d mailed so many of his things home. He’d been on U.S. soil for all of three hours, and he already missed Rome. He wanted to walk down the tiny staircase from his billet family’s apartment and get a cappuccino. He wanted to stand on the drain of the Pantheon and soak up the sheer history in the air.

He already wanted a break.

But he also wanted to see Julian. Sometimes it felt like the only thing pulling him back home was seeing his baby brother’s grin in real life rather than across a Facetime call.

“All good?”

Remus looked up at Leo. His blond hair was still bleached a bright blond from the Roman sun. Their program had ended in May, but Remus was glad they had stayed together. He hadn’t been looking for Leo—for someone to kiss for the first time in the rose garden at the top of the Aventine Hill while Leo told him about its past as a cemetery.

It’s footpaths are laid out like a Minorah, see? Leo had pointed out. To remember. 300 different types of roses isn’t enough. But I like to come here.

Remus thought it had been Leo’s love for history, and his respect, too, that had drawn him in. They both came from a world where the biggest thing most people cared about was what they’d wear to the next party, and who was bringing their next drink.

Remus hadn’t been able to believe his luck, as fragile as his heart was still.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “All good.”

But he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t been friends here, in the city, or at Hogwarts. It had been Rome. Remus didn’t know what their old lives would do to them. But he took Leo’s hand and watched the way Leo fingered the star he wore around his neck, the way he shot Remus his dimpled smile.

“Come on,” Remus said. “I want you to meet Julian.”

XOXO

Good morning Upper East Siders—Gossip Girl here. All trends point to Fall’s Hogwartsers coming back in Black—in more ways than one. Sirius Black’s got a baby brother on campus now, and after another wild summer for the Hogwarts College elite, count me in with the rest of them on wondering what to expect. Rumor is he’s not much like our favorite star.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Sirius kept his eyes on his eggs and toast. “Your missing your tie. Mom said—”

“What do you care?” Regulus replied. “I hear when she used to make you wear one it usually ended up around some other guy’s neck by ten in the morning.”

“If you’re going to believe everything you read on Gossip Girl about me, then maybe I won’t talk to you.”

Regulus smirked. “So, you read it, too.”

“Boys.”

Both brothers went back to their breakfasts.

“Good morning, mom,” Sirius said.

Walburga Black smiled with her painted lips, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and bending to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t you both look handsome for your first day. Although that leather jacket has seen better days, Sirius. Do what you want for dinner, ask Chef, I don’t care. I’ll be at the House.”

The House. The House of Black, his mother’s million dollar fashion industry.

“Fine,” Regulus nodded, and rose. “I’ll take the first car.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

Regulus just snatched up his backpack.

Saint, James, and Thomas were waiting for him on one of the courtyard tables when Sirius got out of the Escalade. It certainly felt like a first day of a semester. Saint’s neck dripped in gold necklaces—a story behind each one. Thomas, who had replaced his short braids with a closely shaved head, wore a white t-shirt and ripped up jean shorts, gold nose-ring glinting in the sun. James had evidently been helped out by Lily, as usual, a green, tight-fitting Henley shirt bunched up at his elbows. The two flanked Saint, who basked on top of the stone table, head tilted back to bare his throat in a way that made Sirius think of last night, in the back of the bar. He could see a purplish mark he had left there.

“You’re looking surprisingly chipper,” James said when Sirius reached Hogwarts’ courtyard.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, knowing he didn’t. “I’m not failing any classes yet, James.”

His friends went oddly silent. Sirius looked around at them, spreading his hands in confusion. Saint wouldn’t look at him, expression going oddly stoney. Thomas, finally, offered him his phone, biting his lip. Sirius took it.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn’t even bother reading the Instagram caption. Remus loomed out at him from the phone screen.

“Leo Knut,” Saint said. “Who would have thought.”

Sirius cleared his throat and turned away from the picture—from Remus and Leo’s clasped hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be chipper?” he said again, and ignored their unconvinced expressions. “I’ve got class.”

Under his desk while he waited for the rest of the class to show, Sirius pulled out his phone and opened Instagram.

XOXO

Remus approached campus slowly. He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore, even if he knew that wasn’t true. He thought he saw James from afar, but Lily and Kasey didn’t have class today.

Really, Remus didn’t know if he had many friends that weren’t…shared. That didn’t feel too close to home. Manhattan wasn’t that big of an island.

He looked down at his schedule he’d written out on his phone.

The 19th Century Novel - Hogsmeade R#302.

He made his way to the Hogsmeade building and climbed the spiral staircase quickly. It all felt too industrial, too metallic. At least he’d woken up with Leo, who still had the ancient air about him. He didn’t want that bubble to pop.

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall beamed when he walked in, and Remus smiled, too at her familiar Scottish drawl. “It’s so very nice to have you back.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s good to be—”

But the words died on Remus’ tongue. He looked out at the small class—just twenty at this high level—and his heart, out of habit it seemed, had leapt at the sight of familiar dark hair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Pyramus and Thisbe are actually wishing for a wall between them this time.

Sirius’ hair was shorter than it had been at the end of sophomore year, the last time Remus had seen him. He wore a touch of a beard, too, just scruff, really, but it framed his silver eyes like darkness to the stars—two stars, which were zeroed in on Remus.

“Back,” Remus tried to recover, mouth dry. He sent McGonagall a shaky smile, and turned to find a seat, trying not to find those stars again.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in defeat when he realized that there was only one left. He walked towards Sirius looking ahead and with his heart pounding. Leo. Leo making pancakes for him and Julian this morning. Leo making his little brother laugh. But he could smell the worn leather of Sirius’ jacket. He remembered the feel of it around his own shoulders. Are you cold, baby?

“All righty, then,” McGonagall stood from her chair and leaned against the front of her desk, looking down her spectacles at the attendance sheet. “Looks like we’re all here.”

XOXO

“Well?” Saint asked as Sirius took the joint from between his fingers.

“Sat down next to me,” Sirius said. “Didn’t say a fucking word.”

“Did you say a fucking word?” Saint raised his eyebrows.

Sirius blew out smoke. “No.”

“Well, all right, you fucking hypocrite.”

Sirius looked over at him from where they lay side by side, stretched out in the fading sunshine of Central Park. “I’m keeping this now.”

“No, you’re not. Did you pay for that? I don’t think so.”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, like this made a dent in the Montague treasuries.”

Saint laughed, tucking a palm behind his head. Sirius let his eyes linger on the strip of skin where his shirt rode up. He’d kissed that last night, too. It was nice with Saint. He’d been friends with him for longer than he could remember. Saint never looked for more. If Sirius snapped at him, he snapped back and then they laughed about it. Saint wandered through the world loving people freely. He kissed them, or he made them dinner, or he took them for long walks along the river. He showed them his favorite jazz club, or gave them the orgasm of their life, or read to them from his favorite books. He was New York in human form, accepting and inviting, living and breathing.

Sirius wished he was so trusting, even if trust seemed a funny word to apply to Saint.

No one ever got too close to either of them, except the other.

“What are you wearing to your mom’s fashion show?” Saint asked with his eyes closed. “It’s the event of the season.”

“Are you joking? The fittings started in July.”

“Mm, I love that,” Saint grinned, stretching. “Want to come help me decide what I’m wearing? We’re at the Plaza right now, you know that. You know my mother. If it’s not broken, break it. We’re renovating again. We can order champagne to the room.”

“Is that code for make out?”

“Partly. But I will be showing you my outfit choices.”

“Deal.”

XOXO

Remus made it back home seeing no one, but one of the butlers had an envelope with his name on it waiting for him.

“Thanks, Moody,” Remus murmured, but thought briefly about handing it right back to him.

He knew this invitation. He knew its black boarders and heavy stock. It came ever year.

It used to be something they had looked forward to.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

invites you

TOUJOURS PUR

“Jesus,” Remus breathed, but took it up to his room, checking the time on the way. Julian would still be at school, his parents at work. This apartment was too big for the four of them, not to mention just Remus alone.

His suitcases still lay open and unpacked on his floor, and he kicked at one without looking up.

“So, did you just forget to mention that you were home?”

Remus spun towards his bed, only to find Lily sprawled across it and fiddling with an emerald on a chain.

“I had to find out from Gossip Girl?” Lily shook her head.

Remus slapped the invitation against his thigh. “Wow, wasn’t like that was a surprise present for you or anything.”

Lily smiled, red hair in a thick french braid. “I see green and I know it’s for me. What can I say?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and she gave a small squeal and pushed off of the bed to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Re.”

He let himself rest his chin in the crook of her neck for a moment. ‘Thanks, Lils.”

She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “What, no, me too?”

“I am,” he said tentatively. “But I had fun in Rome.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Southern fun?”

“His name is Leo,” Remus said pointedly, then eyed the pile of garment bags piled high on the other side of his bed. “Are those…”

“Pour moi, et pour toi,” Lily patted his cheek. “We have a fashion show to go to, sweetheart.”

XOXO

What do we think, Courtiers? House of Black’s fashion show is the biggest event of the fall. But what on Earth does doe-eyed Remus Lupin have to do within that dark forest now?

Is he a Bambi, or still the wolf we knew?

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #wolfstar #harry potter #gossip girl #Harry Potter x gossip girl #sirius black #remus lupin #cw: mention of sex #cw: drinking #cw: drugs #Harry Potter fic #the marauders #the marauders era #Harry Potter au #woflstar au

192 notes · View notes

aggressivelyclueless · 3 years

Text

ouija board

in which it gets out of hand. . . but only a little

warnings: v spooky

(heads up this one’s kinda long, whoops lol)

(@qoinq-qhost u were looking for more danny being a lil shit? vvvv)

Sam was just about ready to get the seance rolling. Thundery and weeping outside, candlelight inside - it seemed like a good night for it. This time around, there were four of them: her, of course; Felicity, from third-hour, had brought the board; her bestie Star (who Sam had almost uninvited, as she hadn't been deemed goth enough, but she owed Felicity a favour and letting this slip was it); and Star's boyfriend-of-the-week, Jake (also not goth, and very much on thin ice).

They sat clustered together on the full-moon rug in Sam's room, a jumbo bag of Chex Mix forgotten on the floor by Jake's backpack. Only the little brown bits were left. "You're host," Felicity was saying, scooting up into a proper cross-legged sitting position and centering the board on the carpet between them. She produced the most important piece - the polished wooden planchet - and dropped it into Sam's waiting palm. "You start."

Star opened her mouth, almost thought better of it, and then asked, "Are we going to get a demon?"

"That's not how this works," said Felicity, shooting Sam a look to keep her quiet. Felicity had the tolerance for questions like those, and the patience not to be cross. "We're not summoning demons. We're communing with the dead. There's a difference."

"Is it still going to be scary?"

Sam bit her tongue. With luck, it would be, and she wouldn't have to deal with Star's antics next time, whether they were at her house or not.

"I don't know," said Felicity, "Maybe. We've never done one at this house before. We might not get a ghost at all."

Sam shrugged, setting the puck down in the center of the board and keeping her first two fingers on it. The others scooted closer, getting comfortable, and followed suit. The candleflames throughout the room were perfectly still.

"Is there anyone here with us tonight?"

For a moment: nothing. She glanced up into the empty air, as if she could spot a slinking shadow on the wall or a flickering shape hovering by the ceiling. She couldn't, even though she wanted to.

Then the slight pull of the token under their collective fingers, and the drawn scraping sound as it crawled slowly across the board: YES.

So they weren't going to come up empty tonight. She glanced over at Star, wondering how intense things would get before she'd bail. Sam was certain that, at some point, she would, or maybe she was getting her hopes up. Star didn't exactly look like goth material. All things considered, this was probably the wrong scene for her.

But she had owed Felicity that favour.

"Why are you here, spirit?" Felicity asked, shifting a little in place. Right to the point.

The planchet under their fingers was still. Sam knew the rules better than anyone: if the ghost chose to answer, it would have to tell the truth.

The ghost chose not to.

Star's eyes darted to Felicity, but there was a hesitation before she spoke. When she did, the words were wrung-out and barely there. "Ask him if he's friendly."

"You ask him," said Jake, nudging her with an elbow. Between the four of them, he was the least invested in the endeavor, seeming more bored than anything. He shrugged, trying to scoot his letter jacket a little higher on his shoulders without having to take his fingers off the puck. The jacket refused.

"Okay." Star took a deep breath, turning her eyes back to the board. The planchet, for the time being, rested on YES. "Ghost," she said, somewhat uncomfortable at directly addressing the dead, "Do you mean us harm?"

Immediately, she could feel the wooden puck go cold under her touch. It slid off YES, veered partway across the board, and went still again. The chill at her fingertips vanished.

"Don't like the looks of that," muttered Felicity. "Sam, you think we should call this one off?"

Sam gave it a moment of consideration. "I don't know. Maybe, but not yet. Let me try once." She cleared her throat. "Spirit - will you tell us your name?"

The planchet didn't have to think about it this time. Star could feel the cold tingling in her fingers again as it moved, slowly but deliberately, and spelled out: JAMES. She frowned.

"What's your purpose here, James?" Felicity ventured, but the ghost revealed nothing. The silence stretched on; finally, she sighed. "Doesn't like me much, does he?"

"I don't know," said Star, which she thought sounded better than a flat-out no. It didn't do any good; Felicity was already looking a little put-out, and Star reached up with her free hand and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad. We still like you plenty, even if that silly ghost doesn't."

Sam fought back a groan of distaste. Whatever Felicity saw in Star, Sam was seeing none of it. She wanted to tune Star out, didn't want to see her so distracted as if communing with the dead was a mere game.

If things started to hit the fan, Sam was sure she'd never want to come again. In fact, she was starting to count on it.

But would provoking the ghost be worth it? "James," she said, still contemplating it, "Why are you here? What is it you're seeking?"

The puck meandered for a moment, as if conflicted. It rested on the empty part of the board between F and S, turned around, and aimed mostly toward H.

That was when Star jerked her hand back, as if the planchet had burned her. All of a sudden she seemed to be paying attention; Sam wondered if she had finally realized what, exactly, they were dealing with. Whether she did or not, it was too late. She'd disrupted the connection.

Sam had never seen it, but she'd heard the stories of what happened at sessions when someone did that.

Every single candle around the room went out at once.

"Star, what the hell," said Felicity, "Remember how earlier I said you couldn't do that - "

Star's already-high-pitched voice was pinched. "Sorry, sorry! It's just it got cold all of a sudden, I thought he wanted me to - "

Sam scowled in the dark. "What are you talking about, no it didn't - "

"It did so! Just now!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, I knew we shouldn't have invited you - "

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

The flash of lightning through the window made the ghost into a spindly and angular silhouette, floating in the air by the glass and jolting Star and Sam both out of their argument. The planchet on the board, still under six fingers but by now forgotten, shot out from under them and flew across the room, bouncing off the side of the desk and skittering somewhere under the bed.

Oh, it was hitting the fan now, all right. "This is your fault," Sam hissed through her teeth, glowering in Star's direction, but already her mind was racing to find a way to appease the disturbed spirit. She'd held plenty of seances before, but generally found audience with lesser or fragmented dead. Only twice had she been forced to close a session early.

Never had she met such an angry spirit before - and not only was it angry, it was in her room.

"Ideas," Felicity snapped, in an effort to keep Sam from boiling over, and in the same effort to keep Star from tears, "What do we do?"

"Run, maybe?" said Jake, but the sharp and thunderous BANG from the walls around them cut him off. His eyes darted to the door, but it slammed itself shut before he could get up to his feet and make his escape.

"Hold on a sec, guys," said Sam, "Jake, sit down, we're not done yet - hang on, I said! I got a flashlight." She groped for her backpack, brushed over one of eight plushy spider feet, and yanked it unceremoniously into her lap. Half-unzipping it, she produced the promised flashlight and clicked it once, twice, a handful of times in quick succession as nothing happened. "Shit. Shit shit shit - "

"There," Star whispered, her eyes fixed on the shadowy side of the room behind the bed. She pointed with one manicured finger, making the rest of them turn to look.

The ghost was only there for an instant, hanging in the air as a smoky and ill-defined shadow against the hazy grey light from the window, but flickered away an instant later. The pounding rain outside almost masked the haunt's staticky and echoing laughter.

Felicity put a hand over Sam's and tried not to squeeze it too hard. Her fingernails dug in a little anyhow. "Do you think we can still close this out?" She didn't sound too hopeful.

"No," said Star, with a sudden and bone-chilling certainty. "He's staying."

Sam looked over at her, agape. How can you know that? she wanted to say, but her mouth had gone dry and she couldn't force it to move. Star's eyes were on her; just for a moment, Sam swore there was a glint of something behind their usual blue-grey, but it was there and gone before she could be sure.

"We're staying," she said again, and this time Sam heard the echo in it, and this time the glint of green in her eyes lingered. The ghost had her, appearing as a dark and swaying wisp in the air behind her, hands on her shoulders, keeping her still and calm. Her eyes - the ghost's seyes - were on Sam, and a sudden, absurd thought struck her:

Isn't James his middle name?

The knot of rising terror in Sam's gut broke, and cold tingling relief poured over her. For a moment she let it, willing the adrenaline to fade and the pounding heartbeat in her ears to settle, and then shifted gears.

That sonofabitch, I'll kill him for this one.

"No, you're not."

Star's head and the shadow's head cocked to one side in unison. "No?"

Sam was locked on the spirit but her voice was directed at Felicity (and Jake, but to a lesser extent). "Come here."

Felicity hesitated. "What, are you serious - ?"

"Come here," Sam snapped, setting her first two fingers on the center of the board, ignoring the fact that the planchet was still misplaced somewhere under the bed.

"I don't like this," Felicity whispered, but followed Sam's lead regardless.

Star's fingers came out and rested gingerly on top, and Sam was certain that, underneath the veneer of shadows, the ghost was smiling.

"You listen to me, James," Sam commanded, with a seriousness that made Felicity and Jake both flinch, "You'd better get out of here."

Star's mouth turned up in a smile. "And why's that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll banish you into next week."

"Sam," Felicity breathed, "I don't think that's such a good idea - "

"I'll do it," Sam reiterated, cutting Felicity off.

The smils on Star's face widened. "Promise?"

Then the fingers on the board were moving, overcome by a pins-and-needles sensation that turned the board to static beneath them, and came to rest solidly over GOOD-BYE.

"See you then. . . "

Sam looked over and Star looked back at her with those big blue eyes. She didn't seem distraught but Sam had to wonder how much of what had happened she'd remember. She'd heard on several occasions that those puppeteered by the dead didn't tend to recall the influence, and Star wasn't horribly upset.

Still - she felt that ghost had crossed a line somewhere. Crashing a seance, fine. Overshadowing at said seance, even if he'd picked the least-favourite attendee?

That didn't sit right.

"You okay, Star?"

Star blinked once, twice, then cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Of course I'm okay," she said, as if she hadn't been overshadowed at all, but the next thing out of her mouth, spoken with the utmost certainty, sent a chill down Sam's spine.

"He wasn't really going to hurt me, you know. He let you win."

- - - -

Sam shut the door as the others left and then rounded on the ghost. "I know you're still here. There's no way you'd dip after a stunt like that."

(Damn right I wouldn't) said the shadowy thing under the bed, hauling himself out of the darkness a moment later. In the light from the ceiling fixture overhead, the shadows fell apart, relenting to his more human texture and shape, and he shook the dustbunnies off once he got up to his feet. In his hand was the forgotten token that went with Felicity's board, and he held it out to her. "This is yours?"

Sam grabbed it from him, and only then did he get the impression that she wasn't entirely happy with him. "You could have given me a heads-up, y'know."

"Hey, I was in the area, thought you could use a hand. For goth cool points, or whatever." Danny shrugged, leaning back and half-sitting on the side of the bed. "I mean they do think you can scare off a real ghost now."

"And what the hell was with you overshadowing Star?" Sam went on, and at last the dopish grin at the corner of Danny's mouth vanished. "So, okay, maybe I didn't want her to come. But that doesn't mean you get to - "

"Wait, wait, hold on," Danny put a hand up in concession, "I didn't - well, I mean I did, but. Listen for a sec, okay? You don't like her, fine. But I think something's up."

"Something's up," said Sam, nonplussed. She crossed her arms, leaning back slightly in the desk chair and making it creak. "You overshadowing people as a joke is what. And whatever you were telling her in there, guess what She remembers it now."

"That's what's up," said Danny impatiently, "I didn't tell her anything."

That made Sam pause. "What?"

"You heard me. But that's not it, let me say something else too. I swear I'm not making this up: she saw me the second I drifted in the window. I'm invisible and she's looking right at me. The whole time. It was like she was watching me."

"Bullshit," said Sam, wanting to believe it was.

Danny shook his head. "You heard what she said. After you banished me into next week."

"That you let me win," Sam recalled slowly. In the moment, it had struck her as dumb-chills naivety on Star's part, but the way that Danny talked made it sound like she was serious. Perhaps she'd just wanted to think that Star was that stupid.

"She knew it, and I didn't tell her. I'm dead serious, Sam, she practically invited me to overshadow her. I didn't even have to go all the way in her. You saw it."

Sam had most definitely seen it. "And what does this mean for the rest of us? Or for you? You're gonna tell me - what, she's going to miraculously guess you're half-ghost too?"

"I don't know - but you saw her the same as I did. She wasn't scared of me. Hell, I gave you guys a name and she was the one that didn't call me by it. Like she knew it wasn't quite right."

"I get it," said Sam, thinking that maybe she would have been just as well off not calling him that either, "But what are we supposed to do about it? Are you saying we should invite her onto the team? Or what?"

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair and letting it come to rest on the back of his neck. He shrugged helplessly, his gaze picking out dustbunnies and imperfections in the floorboards at his feet. "I don't know yet. Keep an eye on her, maybe. See if she starts saying things. She's not as stupid as she looks, Sam. Low bar, I know, but the last thing I need right now is somebody else to have to watch out for. I know you don't like her. I'm not asking you to."

He met her eyes then, and the earnestness in them struck her.

"Just, don't let that put her in the way, okay?"

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt Trick #danny phantom #fanfiction #ectober

87 notes · View notes

claybrownie7566 · 3 years

Text

Just a game...

This whole fic idea came from my best friend @unwantedcrow so I decided to write it for her! She has fantastic ideas and so here we are.

The gang doesn't know about Legend's fear. They try and get back at him, and it goes very wrong.

(TW: panic and hysteria, abandonment)

"That little-"

"Wars" Four warned, silencing the Captain. The smithy puffed triumphantly when the man actually obeyed.

"Listen. I know he and Twi were in kahoots for that last prank, I mean, I still have dirt in my ears" he shook his head and true to his word, dirt flew out of his ears. "But" he continued, "we have to be careful. We need to get him good, but we don't want to get in trouble with Twi or Roolie when they get back. So think, gentlemen. How should we approach this?"

Warriors peeked through the brush into the clearing where they had made camp. The rest area was larger than they were used to. The group was separated for the time being. Not for days or anything, just enough time for Sky, Twilight, Time, and Hyrule to wander into the nearby town to gather intel and supplies. Not to mention a sense of where the heck they were and....well...when, they were exactly.

That would take time.

Lots of it.

And Wild, Four, Wars, and Wind wanted to settle the score.

Not too evenly of course. This was only a prank war after all, but Legend had gotten them good two days ago. Far, far too good.

What did he do you ask?

Ask Time later. None of them were eager to talk about it and they were sick of Legend's smug looks of victory taunting them throughout the day.

Wild frowned, "why don't we just put bugs in his potion bottles?"

Three concerned faces turned toward him.

"Wild, what if we have to use those potions?"

The champion scoffed and shook his head at them like they were dumb.

"Potions are made from bugs you idiots. Why would-"

"Shh!" Wind cut in sharply, jutting a thumb toward the clearing, "he's coming back from patrol. If we aren't there he will be suspicious, come on!"

They all sprung to their feet and raced through the greenery into the soft patch of grass littered with their belongings. Quick as lightning, they all threw themselves into casual sitting positions, and grabbed something to fiddle with as to not look suspicious.

Legend's footsteps reached them, and the vet parted a tree branch as he entered the clearing. His pink hair clashed with the rich green behind him, and Four stifled a snicker.

It wasn't the vets fault....whatever had happened, but it was still ridiculously strange to see the bright pink head of hair attached to his snarky, know-it-all expression.

"Well" Legend said, nearing the group, "aren't you all getting cozy."

Wild rolled his eyes, "yeah yeah leave us alone. We're tired."

Four gaped. Wild was such a good actor. He could slide anything off his tongue, and everyone within earshot would believe him. Not that it was hard to lie about being tired....they were always tired, but still. Four gave him an impressed smile as Legend turned away.

"Yeah" the vet sighed, "me too honestly. Would you guys mind if I slept a bit before the others got back? I know me and Twi have first watch because of our erm..." he paused, smirking to himself, "shenanigans, from the other night."

Wind glared at Legend, and the older hero only grinned wider.

"I don't think that's fair. You should have to take first and last after what you pulled." The sailor grumbled.

Legend laughed, "aw don't be a sore loser Tuuli." A bejeweled hand reached out to ruffle the younger hero's hair, "besides, you guys started this war. It's only fair I finish it. Also, I'm getting punished with Twi so don't be so bitter. It's a bad look for you."

Oh that got them good.

It was all fun and games until the taunting.

Now it was personal.

"You know what else is a bad look?" Warriors pressed, "getting your head shoved into a vat of red potion."

Wild puffed next to him and Wind snickered, covering his mouth with his hand. Four outright cackled.

"Yeah vet" he wheezed, "hard to take you seriously when your hair is the same color as fairy floss."

Legend groaned in annoyance, the sound barely audible over the groups eccentric laughter.

Once they had calmed down, their giggling fit reducing to soft chuckles, the pink-haired hero gave them a hard look.

"Are ya done?" He deadpanned.

Wild snorted, "yeah. We're done."

Legend rubbed his eyes, "Mmk well...I am going to sleep for a bit. Can you contain yourselves long enough to not burn the forest down while I'm out?"

Warriors narrowed his eyes, "not funny."

"What do you mean? I'm hilarious" Legend said, stretching his arms above him with a yawn.

"Want us to wake you when Time and the others get back? Don't want you to miss your shift" Four said, not trying in the slightest to hide his own snark.

"Yep" Legend said easily, "sounds good."

He lowered himself to the ground where his bedroll was and began to spread it out, running his fingers over the soft padding and old blankets he had gotten from who knows where.

The grass beneath them was thick and soft, and the trees above them sheltered them from the bright sunlight of the afternoon.

Despite the disgruntled atmosphere from the quips within the group, it was extremely peaceful around them. Within no time, Legend was curled up in his bedroll, breathing in the summer air deeply.

Four watched their companion curiously. He really must've been tired to fall asleep so quickly. It was a deep sleep too. The smithy threw a pebble at him, and he didn't move.

An hour or so went by without much to say. The four heroes had gradually formed a circle a way off from their sleeping friend. They began to chat quietly about things when Warriors lit up.

"What?" Wild asked, his hands twisting into the grass.

Warriors put a finger to his lips and looked behind him to make sure Legend was still asleep.

He turned back to the group with mischief in his eyes.

"Oh perfect" he said with a wicked grin.

"What?" Wind poked, "what's perfect?"

The captain motioned for all of them to lean in. Four blonde heads pressed together as he continued.

"I have a good idea. Oh he'll be so mad."

The other three looked at each other and smirked.

"We're listening" Wind said.

Warriors looked at him proudly and began to explain.

"Let's just take all our stuff and pretend to leave. We won't of course, because as much as I want to get back at him, I don't want him to be left like a sitting duck out in the open."

Four nodded methodically, "harmless but irritating and briefly startling. I like it."

"Yeah, you would smithy" Wind said, jabbing his elbow into Four's side. The two giggled quietly, and Wars tried to bring them back.

"Guys, guys. Come on, I doubt he will sleep for much longer, and the others will be back tonight. We have to hurry."

Wild, Four, and Wind nodded.

They all rose together and began silently packing up their things. They dragged it all a ways off into the forest, hiding it under some bushes in case Legend came looking.

Then they hid behind the tree branches and waited, their eyes fixed on the clearing and the sleeping hero at it's center.

They made sure to scan the treeline for any signs of danger as well, but their amusement and focus was all on Legend.

They only had to wait about fifteen minutes when Warriors saw the vet stir. He got the others attention, pointing silently toward the target. They all went still, waiting and watching, perfectly silent.

Warriors felt excitement and anticipation fill his chest, and he held his breath.

Legend stretched, his eyes skittering open toward the sky. He rolled over sleepily and groaned. Slowly, almost painfully so, he propped himself up on his elbows and opened his eyes.

There wasn't really a clear reaction at first. He glanced over at where Warriors had been sitting before turning his sights to the tree line.

Warriors felt underwhelmed and disappointed.

Then.

Legend did a double take, whipping his head back around to look at the now abandoned camp. The reaction they'd been waiting for landed, and the satisfaction was glorious.

Everything was exactly how they had found it: pristine, and gloriously empty. Warriors felt triumphant, and he grinned.

Legend's brow furrowed in curiosity as his head turned to survey the area.

"Wars? Wild? What the heck?" He called, annoyance and confusion lacing his words.

Wind turned to Four and nodded.

This was perfect, he seemed to say.

Warriors was about to agree when another call drew their attention.

"W-wait....where did you guys go?"

His head moved a bit quicker, searching more than asking now.

Warriors glanced at his companions.

Nobody move, keep it going.

"Hey! come out you idiots! I know you're hiding somewhere!......creeps."

Wild bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Four put a hand to his lips.

Quiet stupid!

And it was quiet, for several long minutes.

"Umm....." Legend finally yelled to the empty air, "OKAY........Y-YOU GUYS CAN COME OUT NOW! YOU WIN!......" He tilted his head in waiting.

Warriors would absolutely not be giving in. Not now. The fun had just begun after all.

Except, something seemed to change slightly in the vets expression. It wasn't quite worry or amused confusion anymore.

It was fear, panic, despair even.

"P-please?" Legend called, "it's not funny, I'm......H-hello? Anyone? Hyrule? Wars? Four?"

Wild looked at Warriors.

The captain shook his head.

In a minute.

They didn't get one.

Legend's hands clenched into fists in the grass, gripping the soft greenery so tightly Wars thought his knuckles would snap.

The vets chest stopped rising and falling, and he went terrifyingly still.

"No" he whispered.

Warriors quirked his face in confusion. It must have shocked the others too because they were all still as statues.

"No, sweet Hylia not again......" Something caught in the light tracing down Legend's cheek. "N-not them they-........oh goddesses.......oh goddesses what have I done?"

He sobbed.

Legend.

The unbreakable, snarky, hotheaded, bold, brash veteran of the group.

Sobbed.

He sobbed like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He curled in on himself so violently Four thought he would disappear entirely. His hands curled tighter into the grass, and the hero nearly convulsed, his body wracked with tremors.

"Please" he begged, "please don't do this to me.......not again."

Wild gasped softly and surged forward, drawing the others out of their shocked stupor. Warriors was right behind him with the other two in his wake.

Wild raced across the clearing and dropped to his knees next to Legend.

"No please.....I was so happy.......I was so happy.....why can't I be happy?"

His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breaths were horribly uneven and shaky. They couldn't tell if he was breathing at all. Four let his hands hover, unsure of what to do.

"L-legend? Legend!" Wild said, putting a hesitant hand on his friend's shoulder.

The hero jerked away harshly, his eyes snapping open. They locked with Wild's and a thousand things crossed both their minds.

"Wake up" he whispered, "please wake up wake up No....no sleep........dream dream dream and forget......please no....."

Warriors tried next, gently placing his palm on Legend's arm.

"No! Agh! You're gone!" A cry ripped from his throat. The sound was desperate and anguished. Legend's head fell, and grass stained fingers launched up to grip the pink strands of his hair, or to pull them out, he wasn't sure.

"Legend!" Wild said more urgently, "It's me! It's Wild! It's me! It's me!"

Legend collapsed.

Wild winced in sympathy as he caught his friend, wrapping his arms around his trembling shoulders and whispering a thousand apologies.

"I don't......." Another horrible sob, "don't trick me anymore......Wild isn't here he isn't real......it isn't real nothing was real.......none of it......" Another gasp for air, "none of it. They're gone they're gone."

Wind and Four scooted closer, their own guilty tears threatening to spill over.

Warriors was still in shock. His chest hurt, his mind was a blank slate, his body wouldn't move.

"What did I do?" He said, his voice was barely audible.

Legend kept muttering to himself between sobs, his hands gripping his hair.

Warriors looked at Wild for any sort of council, any sort of relief, any sort of help.

"L-let go......let go of me" a soft voice pleaded, "stop it....."

Wild peered back down at his friend and shook his head.

"I'm not letting you go Legend. It's me, Wild. I am very real. And I'm so sorry we tricked you. We didn't know it scare you so badly."

Legend seemed to register the champions arms around him then. Strong and steady, and very real.

"Tricked? W-wild?"

The champion nodded.

Legend gasped, then laughed.

It was small, fragile, soft.

Relieved.

"W-wild! you're......you're real? You're real and everyone is real?"

Warriors reached out, gripping Legend's shoulder. The vet turned and Warriors wanted to cry. He pulled the two heroes into his arms and held them there.

"Legend I'm so sorry!"

His voice was thick and dripping with guilt, but genuine. His. Legend let out a long, deep exhale.

"You" he gasped, "jerk."

Warriors and Wild chuckled despite the situation, and Legend's hands let go of his hair to wrap around Warriors.

"Never thought I'd be so......happy to see that.......dumb blue scarf.....thought I went crazy."

Warriors hugged him closer.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so....so sorry. I didn't know. I should've, but I didn't."

Legend shook his head, "not your fault......didn't say anything about it.....never have.......not to anyone."

Legend breathed out another pathetic laugh.

"Everyone's real right? I'm not...."

Four sighed, "Oh we're real alright. And boy do we owe you an apology."

Wind leaned against the pile of heroes, adding his weight to it.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

The vet smiled weakly, a hand untangling itself to clutch his chest "as long as you.....never......ever do that again....."

"We won't" Wind said, "swear on Aryll's spyglass."

Four heads nodded, and Legend finally relaxed. Wild kept his arms tight around him.

Legend cleared his throat, "So uh...I'd appreciate if this wasn't disclosed to the others.....I have a reputation you know."

Warriors scoffed, "Yeah. real good that reputation did for us. Nearly killed you with a prank."

The vet gaped, "Is THAT what this whole thing was about? You guys tried to get back at me from two days ago? What I did was harmless what is the matter with you!"

They all grumbled in protest, and Wind huffed, "well we THOUGHT this would be harmless......Hylia above Vet we're sorry."

"Enough of that" Legend clipped, "I'm just glad I'm not crazy."

"That is still up for debate though-"

"Wars" Wild warned, "let the man alone."

"We should probably drag our stuff back to camp now huh?" Wind added.

"You dragged," Legend said, pinching he bridge of his nose, "your gear. Out of camp."

"Yup" they all said at once.

It didn't take them long to reset their campsite, but it did feel like eons before the others stumbled in. Their company was back together, new supplies and information required. The change in dynamic within Legend's group was apparent, but no one said anything. He was grateful for that.

He was grateful for everything. And even though it had scared the living daylights out of him, he had a newfound appreciation for his companions.

He savored the sight of them all together, and kept it locked away right next to the others he refused to forget.

#Linked Unverse #LU fic #Lu Legend #Brownie writes #unwantedcrow

105 notes · View notes

ficsandgiggles · 3 years

Text

Difficult Day, Giggly Night

I am dedicating this fic to my big sister @pegasusflight77 because she’s had a rough day and she deserves all the love and positive vibes. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for being such a ray of sunshine in my life! 💗

(Please excuse the mess of this fic, it’s not edited or proof read bc I’m kinda still going through things myself, but I wanted to write something!)

“Ugh.” You groaned as you stormed through the door and slammed it shut, throwing your bags down and storming straight up to your room, grunting at Wanda who tried to greet you softly.

Wanda looked over at Nat, concerned as she heard you slam your door shut. “I’m guessing it was another rough day at work…” Nat told Wanda quietly, looking over at your bag which was dumped on the floor. She reached in and grabbed your phone, looking at Wanda. “Shall we go and check on them?” She asked quietly, hearing your wardrobe slam shut whilst you were changing out of your work uniform.

Wanda nodded and headed up to your room, giving Nat a look before knocking on your door, hearing a grunt in response, but Wanda took that as a sign to open the door, heading inside as Nat followed, handing you your phone.

“Hey, tough day?” Nat asked gently as she sat down on your bed, handing you your phone as she put a hand on your arm gently as Wanda sat on the floor next to your bed.

You nodded silently in response, curling up on the bed as you took your phone from Nat, relaxing a little as you felt Nat’s hand on your arm, it was a simple yet comforting gesture.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Wanda offered gently as she tried to turn your head so you could face her, but you buried your face into the pillow, shaking your head in response.

The three of you remained there in a comfortable silence, but the silence was quick to take over you, and you tensed up whilst pretty much let your thoughts drown you. However, Nat could tell that something was up, and began spidering her fingers up and down your back in an attempt to relax you. “We’re here for you, Y/N, no matter what.” Wanda whispered gently, joining in and running her fingers through your hair, feeling you sink into the pillow slightly.

Another silence brushed across you, but you weren’t sure if you liked it or not, but there was no way you were going to talk about the day you had because you knew they’d go and find the people who bullied you at work and go on a killing spree, and as much as you hated being picked on, you didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

The uncomfortable silence didn’t last for long as you felt Nat’s nails lightly brush against your side, you didn’t expect the motion, so you flinched a little and bit back a tiny gasp. You turned your head to see Wanda look up at Nat with a small smile on her face, as if she was exchanging a silent conversation with her.

“I think we know what to do to cheer you up…” Wanda murmured quietly as she crawled her fingers towards your ribs. “Are you ticklish, Y/N?” She asked quietly, but didn’t give you time to answer as she gently scribbled her fingers into your ribs. Nat smirked and Wanda’s eagerness to attack you and joined in by gently skittering her nails up and down your sides, looking down at you as you broke into hysterical giggles.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.” Nat smirked fondly, giggling and watching as you buried your face into your pillow. You shook your head in response as you tried to slam your arms down to against your sides in an attempt to bat their hands away.

“No? But you’re giggling!” Wanda smirked a little, as she tried to gently scribble under your arms. “And it’s sooooo cute!” She added, smiling as she watched you giggle hysterically, which was a change compared to how you were earlier, and it made her and Nat feel relieved.

The two kept gently attacking your ribs and sides, and didn’t notice that Yelena was peering through the doorway to watch what was going on, she had heard you slam the door and was going to check on you.

As Nat kept scribbling in, she caught her sister in the corner of her eye. She paused her attack for a second and looked over at Yelena. “Hey, is everything okay?” She asked, smiling as she still heard your giggles since Wanda was squeezing rapidly into your sides.

“I heard Y/N’s door slam and I got concerned. But I can see that everything is okay.” Yelena replied as she stepped back for a moment, but Nat smirked and put a hand on her shoulder. “Come join us, we’re just cheering Y/N up.” She replied casually.

Soon enough, Wanda, Nat and Yelena were sat on your bed, Wanda had turned you over and dragged you gently onto her lap, holding your hands gently away from you before giving Nat and Yelena a smirk.

“Wait, nonono-“ you gasp, looking over between Nat and Yelena nervously as they slowly moved their fingers towards you, Nat was heading towards your upper body and Yelena was moving towards your legs and feet.

There was a short pause before you quickly burst into hysterical giggles. Nat’s fingers quickly skittered up your top and into your belly whilst Yelena squeezed into your knees, making you squeal and arch your back away from Wanda’s lap. “NOHOHOHO!” You yelp out, trying to twist away as the spy sisters attack you gently, smiling at your giggling self. You heard Wanda coo fondly blow a tiny raspberry into your neck.

“Aw, but you’re so cute!” Wanda smiled fondly as you saw Nat giggle along with you, scribbling into the middle of your belly to really make you giggle. “Yeah Y/N, how else would we cheer you up?” She asked casually.

You shrugged, squealing with laughter as you felt Yelena squeeze just above your knee. “It seems that this is the only solution.” She told you casually, holding your leg down gently as she kept squeezing, making sure you couldn’t move.

“NOHOHOHO IT REHEHEHEALLY ISNT!” You protest, trying to pout, but you couldn’t help but continue to squeal with laughter, you were way too ticklish to not react to this torture. You would never admit it, but this was taking your mind off today’s events, and you were actually having fun. Nat and Wanda had tickled you before, to distract you from doing some uni work, but never as full on as this. You remembered thinking that you wouldn’t hate it if they done this again, and thankfully, your secret wish came true, and you are loving it.

“Y/N, you’re so cute but you’re so ticklish it’s ridiculous.” Wanda smirked fondly as she nuzzled her face into your neck, all the while Yelena made herself at home near your feet, scratching up and down your soles gently as Nat gently scribbled up and down your sides.

You were in ticklish heaven, you had basically slid off Wanda’s lap at this point, and you didn’t even notice that she had let your hands go, you felt pinned anyway, as if your own laughter was holding you down.

Soon enough though, the three of them exchanged looks and let you go, smiling as you collapsed into a fit of giggles, you curled up and took in deep breaths in an attempt to recover.

“Feel better?” Nat asked as she rested her hand on your arm, you nodded in response and relaxed into the gentle comforting motion once again after being convinced that Nat wasn’t going to attack you again. You loved it, but you needed a break for now.

“Yeah… thanks guys…” you reply, sitting up after you recovered and leaning your head on Wanda’s shoulder. Nat pulled Yelena close and cuddled into you and Wanda.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. The four of us have each other’s backs, always.” Yelena reassured you. Despite not being a part of the team for long, she was quickly welcomed as a member of the family, and was determined to share the same love to you as she got from the others.

“Now, I think we need a movie night.” Nat suggested, and the three of you nodded eagerly, and got up to head towards the lounge.

So for the rest of the night, the four of you were snuggled up together, watching all of your favourite films. You noticed that you got the occasional side squeeze whenever you were physically or mentally drifting away, but you didn’t complain. You felt comfortable with these women, and for that, you were forever grateful.

#avengers tickle #avengers tickle fic #mcu tickle #mcu tickle fic #marvel tickle #marvel tickle fic #ticklish!reader #ler!nat #ler!wanda #ler!yelena

135 notes · View notes

thetravelerwrites · 3 years

Text

Birch (Centaur)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human/Male Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Communication Disorder, Social Communication Disorder, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Reader, Semi-Verbal Autism, Semi-Verbal Reader, Overbearing Mother, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Ableism Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4758

Commissioned by an anonymous party, Birch finally gets his own story! The reader, who has a communication disorder, meets and somehow befriends a beautiful centaur named Birch, who lives in the woods with his family and is known throughout the town as being a bit of a playboy and a flirt. When he realizes how poorly the reader is treated by her mother, he immediately tries to rescue her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You first saw him when you were thirteen year old. You and your mother came to Coleville to beg for work after your father had kicked you both out of the house for another woman. You and your mother worked in the laundry and kitchen of the town’s most popular tavern, washing bed sheets and tableware, so you hadn’t really had the chance to meet him when he came into town to trade. You were only ever able to watch him from a distance

He was massive, friendly, and beautiful. His horse body was the size and color of a buckskin Andalusian, with a pale tan body fur and black socks. His skin was suntanned from working in the fields of his home farm and he always wore a simply-made tunic. His hair was short and black, and his tail was long and black, but his eyes were a bright, clear blue. He smiled easily and seemed to get along with everyone. You fell in love with him as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Well, no, you knew even then that it wasn’t love, it was just fascination and infatuation, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were overjoyed every time you saw him. Not that he’d ever notice you. You were just a plain, poor, chubby laundress with red, chapped hands and a future of working in a tavern for the rest of your life. Why would he even glance at you?

You wouldn’t be able to speak to him, even if he did. You were terribly shy and timid. You’d always been that way and couldn’t help it. Talking to people, looking them in the eye, facing confrontation, it all made you terrified and shaky. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t your parents, although you really didn’t speak to them that much, either. You were sure the most used word in your vocabulary was sorry.

When you were younger, your parents had hoped you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Once you hit puberty and was still unable to speak, your mother began to despair of you, pushing you to talk and berating you when you couldn’t, which only made you withdraw more. You couldn’t blame her for being exasperated with you; you were just as frustrated with yourself as she was. She never said it, but you knew she blamed you for your father rejecting you both.

Even though Birch usually came alone, you were sure he must already be married or have a lover, though he was openly flirtatious. You knew he’d had a few girls in town on occasion, having overheard them bragging about their nights with him, though they all seemed to be one-night trysts or affairs that didn’t last long. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in settling down with anyone and was the playboy type. He was gorgeous enough for it.

Once or twice, he came to town with his family members or to visit family members who had settled here, like his brother Cetzu, the lizardfolk man running the orphanage with his wife. They were all a strange lot: some were human, most were not. You only ever saw one other centaur, and he looked nothing like Birch; he was a younger, smaller piebald named Yew with black skin, white hair, and pale eyes. You’d heard rumors that there was a mixed family in the woods, living on a farm, and that they were all sorts, but it didn’t really seem real to you until you saw them all together.

He’d come to town one day to buy seeds and supplies and came into the tavern for a drink. For centaurs, alcohol was basically food to them, so they drank heavily and often. A lot of centaurs you’d known got pretty rowdy, but Birch was always mindful. He held his ale well and knew when to stop before getting fully inebriated, careful not to make an ass of himself. He was considerate. You liked that about him.

You were working in the kitchens at the time when he arrived, and he sat at one of the tables designed for four-legged folk. It was a long table with no chairs or benches, but flat cushions instead. He folded his legs under him and flagged the waitress, smiling his dazzling smile, and ordered ale and some roasted vegetables. You were neglecting your work, but even if it was just a few seconds, you wanted to commit his image to memory as often as you could.

“Oi!” The waitress, Cathy, hissed as she came toward the door of the kitchen to put in Birch’s order. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” You said, barely audibly.

“Go take him his ale,” She said. “We’re understaffed. If you’re going to be in the way, the least you can do is be useful.”

“I…!" You protested, but she pushed past you into the kitchen to yell at the cook. With you heart in your throat, you rushed to fill a clean tankard and skittered it over, setting it down on the table in front of him without looking at him.

“Ah, that was fast,” Birch said, his voice deep, rich, and wonderful to the ear. “You’re a lovely little thing. Are you new, sweet pea? I haven’t seen you in the tavern before.”

You looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to stay and try to be friendly, or retreat back to the kitchen, so you were frozen there with indecision, looking at the floor.

“Hey now, don’t be shy, love. I don’t bite,” He said, you assumed in an attempt to be flirty, reaching for your hand. You snatched your hand away impulsively and ran back to the kitchen.

Your heart was racing and your mind reeling. Why did I do that? You thought, covering your face with your hands. He probably thinks I’m crazy or a complete shrew! I should never leave the back rooms again and just stick to washing dishes.

After a few moments, though, your mother pulled you away from washing by the arm.

“What did you do?” She asked angrily. “One of the customers is asking for you!”

You panicked. “I… I just… I brought him his drink…” You whispered in terror.

“Come on,” She gripped your arm and pulled you back out into the tavern common room, where Birch was still sitting. He looked at you with a frown. Oh god, he looks annoyed, you thought nervously.

“Miss,” He said, and you stared at your feet, unable to look up. “I think I may have frightened or upset you. I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that not everyone is receptive to my personality or sense of humor.”

You were completely unable to speak and kept your head down, your shoulders hunched.

“Say something!” Your mother hissed at you, and you could only shrink into yourself further. “I’m sorry, sir,” Your mother said in exasperation. “My daughter is as timid as a field mouse. She can’t speak to other people and she never looks people in the eye. She can barely even speak to me. She’s always been like this.”

“Oh,” He said, sounding concerned. “Is she unwell?”

“Probably,” Your mother replied in annoyance, and you pulled away even further. “Though the doctors can’t tell us what’s wrong with her. She usually stays in the kitchen and laundry away from the customers. I don’t know what possessed her to come out here and bother you.”

“C… Ca…” You stuttered, struggling to speak in your defense, looking back toward the kitchen, where Cathy was hovering by the door.

“Oh, did Cathy ask you to bring me my drink?” He asked kindly.

You nodded fervently.

“I understand. I’m sorry that she put you in an uncomfortable situation, and I apologize for making it worse.”

Your mother sighed wearily. “Sir, don’t apologize to her. It’s not your fault that she can’t function like a normal adult.”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and hugged your arms around yourself, desperately wanting to escape back to the kitchen.

“Even so,” He said, his voice cold, but softened when he addressed you. “I’m very sorry, miss.”

You nodded once and shuffled quickly back to the kitchen, unable to keep the tears from falling. Your mother rejoined you a few minutes later.

“You could have at least apologized to him,” He said, taking the plates as you washed them to rinse them off and put them in the rack. “Why do you have to embarrass me like that? How hard is it to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry’?” She sighed sharply and wiped her hands. “Don’t you dare get us fired.” And she walked off, leaving you weeping into the dishwater.

Cathy heard the entire thing and came over sheepishly.

“Hey… I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your ma,” She said. “I forgot about the speaking thing. I was just in a rush and I didn’t think.”

You shook your head. Cathy was the one person who you might call a friend. She was a little brusque and had a short fuse, but she was one of the few who didn’t make fun of your stuttering and silence or look down their nose at you.

“Listen, Birch is a really nice guy. He plays around and has his fun with the girls, but he’s never hurt anyone on purpose. He wasn’t trying to make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

You nodded shortly. You knew that. He was being friendly; that’s just how he talked to people. But being humiliated in front of him was a torture unlike anything you’d felt before, and it hurt.

The next day, you were feeding the chickens in the coop outside of the tavern when you looked up and saw him exiting the tavern. He noticed you right away, and you turned immediately and tried to flee.

“Hey, wait!” He called. “Wait, please!”

You stood with your back to him but you stayed put. You heard him trotting up to you, his hoof-beats heavy.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize again,” He said. “To just you this time. I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, but what she said… that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turned to face him but you didn’t look up, focusing instead on his large hooves. You shook your head. No, he was wrong. You did deserve it.

“You can’t help how you are,” He said. “It’s not your fault. I have a little brother who has trouble talking to people, too. It’s the exact opposite of your problem; he says exactly what’s on his mind with no filter. He can’t control it and it embarrasses him sometimes. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand that it can be hard.”

He was so nice. You were able to lift your head a little, but you still couldn’t look him in the face.

“My name is Birch,” He said. “What’s yours?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you shut it again.

“Hmm,” He hummed. “Can you write?”

You shook your head.

“Um… sign language?”

You answered no again.

“I see,” He said, sighing. “I… I’ll be honest… I don’t want to leave you here with that mother of yours. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with her, but the way she talks to you…” He pawed the ground in annoyance. “It bothers me. Does she do that a lot? Make fun of you in front of other people?”

You shrugged, embarrassed.

He sidestepped in an anxious way and swished his tail. “I have to go back home later today,” He said. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“Well… alright,” He said. “Look, um… if you ever need to… you know… leave this place, talk to Cathy. She knows where my family’s farm is. She can help you get there. If you need to.”

You nodded again, and he turned to leave, but an unfamiliar impulse compelled you to rush forward and take hold of the hem of his tunic. He stopped and looked at you, though he could only see the top of your head.

“Th…” You gulped, your throat dry, your heart beating in your throat. “Tha… ank…you…” You managed to choke out. “H… Haz…zel…”

“You’re name is Hazel?” He asked, a smile in his voice.

You nodded emphatically.

You felt him put a hand on top of your head and and sort of rubbed his fingers against your scalp. It felt nice, even though you weren’t used to physical touch. Your mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort.

“You take care, okay?” He said, taking his hand back. “I’ll be back in a few days. I look forward to seeing you again.”

That evening, you were in the room you shared with your mother as she brushed her hair for bed when she mentioned nonchalantly, “I saw you with that centaur man today. What did he say to you?”

“...he… nothing…” You said vaguely.

“Then why did he touch you? And why were you touching him?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I…” You gulped. “I… don’t know…” You said truthfully.

“Oh, really? You don’t know? You don’t know why a man like him would touch you? You know his reputation in this town. He’s trying to take advantage of you because you're simple.”

“He was… just… being nice…” You said softly.

Your mother snorted. “Men aren’t nice without a reason. I thought you’d know that by now.” She threw down her hairbrush onto the night table and lay down in your shared bed. “You’re not going to have anything to do with him from now on, do you understand? It shouldn’t be difficult for you to manage that, should it?”

You didn’t say anything, just sat at the table and stared into the fire.

“It’s for your own good,” She said, facing away from you. “I know I’m strict with you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You have no problem with me getting hurt when you’re the one doing it, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t say it. You knew she was right, though. He was a flirt and a bit of a libertine, and you thought that perhaps he was only being nice to you because he saw you as low hanging fruit. It hurt to think of him that way, but it was the only thing that made sense.

He did return in a few days, an older woman riding on his back. She was lovely, even at her age, and was wearing trousers and a practical shirt, but no bodice or ladies coat. Her brown hair was caught back in a tight braid, a few strands of grey weaved in and out.

You saw them arrive from the window of your room as you were getting ready for the day. He was as handsome as always, and you watched him wistfully. As if he could sense you, he looked up and saw you at the window. He smiled at you and waved. Remembering what your mother said, you were unable to smile back and walked away from the window without acknowledging him. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry at you.

Before you could start work in the laundry, Cathy called you out.

“Birch and his mother are here,” She said, keeping her voice down so that your mother wouldn’t hear. “They want to see you.”

“I cant…” You said in your normal whisper. “Mama will be angry…”

“Don’t worry about your ma right now,” Cathy said dismissively. “You don’t deserve the shit she gives you, you’re just too shy to tell her off. Just go see what they want. Maybe it’s a chance to get out from under her thumb.”

You had to admit, you did wish for that. You loved your mother, and she loved you in her own way, but you knew she resented you and it was just… exhausting, dealing with her reproachfulness and cutting words every day. You were just too scared to leave on your own.

You thought long and hard about it, looking around to see if your mother was anywhere near. When you didn’t see her, you looked up at Cathy, looking just past her behind her ear instead of at her face, and nodded. She took you by the hand and led you out to the dining area. Birch and his mother were sitting at the four-legged table, with his mother having dragged over a chair to sit with him comfortably.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Birch said. “When you didn’t react this morning, I was worried something had happened. Mama, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”

He told his mother about you? Why?

“I see, I see,” The older woman said. “My name is Ryel, I’m Birch’s mother. Your name is Hazel, right?”

You nodded, unable to look up.

“Goodness, you are rather shy, aren’t you, dear?” She said sympathetically. You chewed your lip, unable to respond. “My son tells me you’re illiterate, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“I imagine that makes communicating with other people very difficult,” She said.

You nodded again.

“So, how about this?” She said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you come to the farm with me for the summer? I’ll teach you how to read and write, and in exchange, you help me out around the farm. How does that sound?”

For the first time in your life, you were surprised into looking someone in the face. She was smiling warmly at you

“I’m getting older and I could use an assistant. My children all have their own work and families to look after and I’d feel as if I were taking advantage of them if I expected them to follow me around and help me all day.”

“Mama, you know we’d do it happily,” Birch said.

“I know that,” She said, hushing him. “Even still, I’d prefer to hire someone for the task, and if I can help them at the same time, why shouldn’t I?” She leaned forward. “What do you say, dear?”

This is exactly what you wanted. A job that was away from your mom. This was your chance. You opened your mouth, as if to answer, when you heard a sharp voice behind you.

“Hazel!” Your mother said, irate, and stalked out of the kitchen toward you, grabbing you by the arm. “Stop bothering these people! Get back to the laundry.”

Birch’s back leg kicked slightly in irritation, thumping the wood of the floor, but Ryel kept her composure.

“She’s not bothering us in the least, madam,” She said calmly. “I’ve actually come here to offer her a job.”

Your mother scoffed. “A job? Doing what?”

“As my assistant,” Ryel said. “I’m a jack of all trades type, you might say, and I’m willing to take her on in exchange for room and board, plus an education.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Your mother said, her grip rather strong on your arm. “My daughter is not capable of making her own decisions.”

“How old is your daughter?” Ryel asked.

“She’s nineteen,” Your mother replied. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit slow. Trying to teach her wouldn’t benefit either of you.”

You frowned, upset. That wasn’t true, you weren’t slow. In fact, you thought you learned rather quickly, you’d just hadn’t had the chance to learn very many new things.

“Be that as it may,” Ryel replied, her voice still even. “Your daughter is an adult and has the right to choose what she wants.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said. “Besides, even if I allowed this, I don’t want her anywhere near him.” She jerked her chin toward Birch.

Birch bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what kind of man you are,” She hissed. “How many lovers you’ve had in just this town alone? How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? I know you have ulterior motives for wanting to take her from here, and I won’t stand for it. She’s simpleminded and vulnerable, and I won’t let you dishonor her and return her to me used and broken.”

“Stop talking like she can’t hear every vile thing you say about her!” Birch shouted, slamming his fist into the table, making you jump. “I would never do something so shameful! You don’t know anything about me! ”

“Son, calm down,” Ryel said, putting her hand on his. “My son is a grown man of twenty-eight and has desires, true, but I’ve been to this town quite often and I haven’t found any such string of broken hearts, as you call it. Many sighing and wistful girls who long for his company, sure, but not one of them has come to me with tears in her eyes claiming he lied or misled her. He’s open and forthright about his intentions, and I respect his decisions. You should do the same for your child.”

“Don’t talk to me about my child if you can’t even control your own,” Your mother said venomously. “Hazel, let’s go.”

She tried to lead you away, but you refused to move. There were hurt and anxious tears in your eyes and you couldn’t look at anyone, but you refused to let her pull you away.

“Hazel!” She gripped your arm and yanked you painfully, and you wrenched your arm from her grasp, shaking your head.

“It seems like she’s made her choice,” Ryel said. “The least you can do as her mother is respect her wishes.”

“Be quiet!” Your mother said. “Leave us alone!” She grabbed your hands and started to pull you back to the kitchen. Birch got to his feet.

“Let her go,” He said, his voice a low growl, knocking her hands away from you. He stood between you and your mother. You dared to reach out and place a hand on the fur of his back to steady yourself.

“What’s going on here?” The bartender, Brian, asked. He also owned the tavern and knew about your condition. He didn’t speak to you much, but he also didn’t tease you either. You could handle understanding silence a lot better than persistent expectation to interact. “Are you alright, Hazel?”

You were shaking and crying, so you could only shake your head.

“These people won’t leave us alone,” You mother said. “I’d like them to leave.”

“Now, Rita, these people are good customers and friends of mine. I’m going to need more of a reason than ‘they’re bothering me’ to kick them out.”

“We simply offered young Hazel here a job on the farm,” Ryel said patiently. “I’m afraid her mother is interfering with her decision.”

“Is that true, Hazel?” Brian asked. “Would you like to take up this job?”

Trembling, you nodded.

“Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Brian said. “These are good folks, Hazel, they’ll take care of you.”

“Like hell they will,” You mother retorted. “She can’t make decisions like this. She doesn't understand.”

Brian sighed. “Rita, your girl’s not stupid, and it’s high time you stopped treating her like she is.”

Your mother looked like she’d been slapped in the face. You looked up at Brian in shock. He smiled kindly at you.

“Why don’t you go up and pack your things while your mother and I have a little chat, eh, dear?” He said.

You attempted to smile at him, though you worried it looked a little like you had indigestion, and went to pack. You took a few minutes to sit on the bed and breathe, clutching your chest, feeling a panic attack poking at your brain. You couldn’t believe it. You were really leaving.

There was a knock on your door and Ryel poked her head in.

“Are you alright, dear? That was quite the fuss,” She said.

You dried your face and nodded, getting up to start putting clothes in a bag.

“I sent Birch outside. He was getting rather angry, and I didn’t want him smashing any of Brian’s furniture.”

You looked out the window. Birch was standing in the courtyard with his arms crossed, stamping the ground and stepping constantly, as if he couldn’t stand still. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was working, and his tail was swishing back and forth without stopping.

“He’s worried for you, dear,” She said, following your gaze. “One thing our entire family has in common is that we don’t like seeing people mistreated. You’re mother may have her reasons for acting as she does, and perhaps it is out of some misplaced notion of love, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all that she mistreats you. You can’t help the way you are, and no amount of her cruel words are going to fix that. In fact, I’m more than certain it makes it worse.”

You sighed sadly in agreement. As you stood there, Birch looked up at your window. He smiled, a little sadder than before, and waved up at you. This time, you raised a hand and waved back.

The door opened and your mother walked in, glaring at Ryel.

“I’d like to speak to my daughter alone, if you please,” She said, her voice low and hostile.

Ryel looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” She said, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Your mother just stared at you with her arms crossed, shaking her head slightly. You looked down and away.

“I guess I should just be glad you won’t be around to humiliate me anymore,” She said, and you shrunk in on yourself. “I don’t like this at all, but it seems I have no say in the matter. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

You knew she was hurt and was lashing out. She wasn’t exactly sweet and caring on her best days, but she could really cut a person to the quick when she was upset.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She asked you, and you could hear tears in her voice. “Nothing at all? You can’t muster the courage to apologize to me for that display downstairs? For leaving me without a thought to my feelings? I’ve spent the last seven years protecting you and providing for you after your useless father threw us out, and you do this to me? And you have nothing to say?”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to her and put your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, Mama,” You said softly.

She started to sob and put her arms around your shoulders. It had been years since she’d last hugged you.

“You’d better start sending me letters as soon as you learn how to,” She said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t hear something from you in a few months, I’m going out there to drag you back, you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama,” You whispered, and took a step back. Picking up your bag, you opened the door and walked out. Ryel was waiting and smiled when she saw you.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

Back outside, Birch was waiting. He stopped shifting around anxiously when he saw you and his mother exit the tavern.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Ryel said. “We’re ready to go.”

“Would you like to ride on my back?” Birch asked, turning.

You shook your head fervently, mortified.

“Are you sure?” He said. “It’s a long walk back to the farm, over four hours. I can get us there in half the time.”

“She’s feeling shy,” Ryel said. “For centaurs, letting people ride on their back is a special privilege afforded to few. I’ll ride with you.” She grinned at him. “He always makes an exception for his mother.”

He grinned at her in return. “You just assume I do.” But he took out a quilted riding blanket that was rolled up and tied to the bottom of his pack and handed it to her, and she set it on his back. Climbing the steps to the tavern, she vaulted onto his back. She instructed you to do the same. Blushing furiously, with both Ryel and Birch’s help, you were able to scramble on in front of her.

“Let’s go,” He said, and he took off at a trot out of town.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Centaur #Autistic Character #Reader Insert #Semi-Verbal Reader

271 notes · View notes

remmushound · 3 years

Note

Hello! I have another request. Could you do a story where 2012 Donnie decides to use the Rise!Turtles' weapons for a test drive without their permission? I imagine 2012 Donnie trying to figure what kind of materials it has in order to create the mystic weapons and testing it out. But then things goes wrong and he attempted to fix it but can't. Bet the Rise!Turtles won't be so happy at Rise!Donnie's counterpart for taking their weapons without their permission.

@assanmaharielsreblogs

He had to get a better look at them. I mean, when else was he gonna get a chance like this one? In his world there was no magic— there was tech far behind his understanding, sure, but that was still tech. Tech that someone engineered, using their own knowledge, for a specific purpose. But here? It was all over the place! Just one patrol using Donatello’s goggles had keyed him into hundreds of mystical hotspots all around the city! He had seen their weapons in action, but he needed to see them closely— in controlled settings under a microscope! To see the inner workings and try to replicate them! If he could get his hands on that kinda tech, then he and his brothers would be unstoppable! And these guys were just using them like toys! Well, not on Donnie’s watch!

Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo had been a difficult thing to snatch. The box turtle was sleeping with the thing on his bed, hugging the weapon like it were a toy. If Donnie hadn’t known better, he’d have said the blades looked almost soft. Michelangelo snored just like Donnie’s Mikey did, tucked under a soft, fluffy comforter and dressed in an orange unicorn onesie. Mikey shared the bed with him (as did Leonardo with Leo and Raphael with Raph), but the older box turtle was sleeping like a rock.

Donnie carefully pried the tool from Michelangelo’s grip with the skill and delicate touch of a true ninja, quickly replacing it with a stuffed animal. Michelangelo gave a soft groan at the disturbance, but quickly hugged the toy as he settled once more. Donnie grinned and looked at the weapon in his hand. Staring into the slick, painted surface, Donnie almost thought he saw an eye staring back at him. He quickly shook his head, looked back, and the eye was gone. Just his mind playing a trick. Leonardo was next.

******

“What are you doing?”

Donnie almost screamed. “Wha— what are you doing awake?!”

Leonardo crossed his arms and glared, his face remarkably bare without his mask and only slightly stifled by a blue nightcap.

“I’m a ninja with crippling insomniac tendencies— sue me.” Leonardo said calmly. “What are you doing with my sword?”

“Uh.” Donnie glanced between Leonardo and the katana he was holding, “nothing?”

“Nothing?” Leonardo scrutinized with a piercing gaze that seemed to call Donnie out in his lie

Donnie hesitated, then sighed. He gave a light laugh and ran his hand across his head. “S-sorry! Just panicked. Other Donnie wants to uh. See if he can use some of the mystic energy from your katana to reverse-engineer a rift for us to get home— me and my brothers, I mean.”

“Ooookay.” Leonardo’s eyes betrayed his distrust, but he didn’t say a word against it, “just ask next time, okay?”

“Yeah. Will do.”

********

Getting the Tonfa from Raphael was nerve wracking. Access to Donatello’s staff was easy— Donnie already had permission to examine and admire its inner workings, so his touch was programmed into the systems anti-theft database as a non-threat. Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo required stealth, sure, and Leonardo’s sword required cunning, but this? This required him escaping with the Tonfa and from the crushing bite of a genetic predator. No matter how calm and content he acted while awake, after that first night’s run-in with savage Raph, Donnie was more than cautious to avoid another similar outburst. Lucky for him, the Tonfa were hung up at a safe distance from the snapper on the wall, and Raphael’s snoring drowned out any noise he might have made.

And just like that, Donnie had everything he needed for a test run. Of course, he was far more skilled with the familiar bō staff than with any of the other weapons (past experience had taught him just how difficult learning a new weapon could be, nevertheless mystic ones), so naturally Donatello’s bō was the first one to try out. Though it itself wasn’t of mystic origin, Donatello had stated many times of the mystic enhancements that made the weapon flourish from a simple multi-tool to what could classify as a weapon of mass destruction.

“Okay...” the staff, despite its greater size to the one he was used to, was surprisingly light in comparison. A quick weigh-in brought it to only fifteen pounds which, given the amount of tech it carried, was an incredible feat. Just how his younger counterpart could manage such a thing seemed almost impossible to the older Donnie’s mind, but that only served to scratch his curiosity even more! There were so many buttons on the shaft he didn’t even know where to start...

He went for the biggest button first out of pure, childish curiosity. This curiosity led to the worse possible outcome as the end of the bō furrowed out and turned into a compact rocket, which turned sideways on itself and shot out sparks of power. Donnie tried to catch himself, but it was too late. Already the power of the launcher dragged him off his feet and forced his unprepared body into a spin. It took his mind a few seconds to catch up with his body and press the same button to withdraw the blaster.

“Note to self... big button bad. Shoulda known that.”

From them on, he was much more careful with his examine. Every press of a button was met with a brace-for-impact in case a similar issue occurred, but he thankfully avoided such an outcome. One button shot a burst of electricity out the opposite side of the bō from where the blaster was, while another button shot two reinforced wings out either side to form a glider. Another button produced a blade on either side of the staff, and another revealed a compartment filled with gauze and alcohol thread and a needle safely tucked into a surgical pouch— an emergency kit, he supposed. He remembered Donatello also having a much bigger one in his battle shell, so this turtle obviously came prepared. Another compartment had a pair of glasses and a bottle of ibuprofen.

“Wow. No such thing as traveling light, I guess.”

He put the bō staff safely to the side before grabbing the Tonfa next. He placed both Tonfa on the table and the first thing he did was examine one of them under the microscope. It was nothing special— just redwood, as far as he could see— albeit old enough to date back to ancient Japan and perhaps even further. Then he put on Donatello’s goggles and looked at the Tonfa through the lenses, which opened up a whole new world of beauty to the normal-looking weapons.

The Tonfa lit up an impossible red, and on the screen appeared the word Muladhara. The red chakra— the root chakra as Donnie knew it best, represented by a red lotus with four petals. Vitality and strength. Instinctual tendencies and the densest of all seven chakras. The more his mind worked it over, the more it made sense. Muladhara was Raphael down to the finest detail. It commands attention and can be forceful at times. The color of passion and love and determination— the color of anger and daring. A color and chakra associated with abandonment and inherited trauma...

Donnie didn’t want to think about it anymore. And he didn’t dare try to activate the weapons knowing their power. He sat them aside and moved onto Leonardo’s katana.

Like the Tonfa, they were nothing special at first glance. Blades made from tamahagane steel common in ancient Japan, and the Tsuka was as unique as every tsuka, covered in ray skin and silken rope, with writing from the first ever wielder of the blade.

Anatawa Hitorijanai... you are not alone.

Under the goggles, another new vision of the mystic weapon opened up for him. The blue chakra of course— Vishuddha. The throat chakra. It took a lot more critical thought than with Raphael’s weapons, but Donnie supposed that the chakra could fit Leonardo. The balance of Vishuddha would speak truthfully, encouraging conversation and relying on self expression. Speaking with confidence and feeling compassion for those around you— communicating your worries even when you were scared to... but an unbalanced Vishuddha with no way to express it could easily lead to the anxiety Leonardo often felt in social settings. Perhaps his chakra was underactive, or blocked completely, by the feeling of something... unfulfilled in his life.

Donnie had more confidence experimenting with the teleporting sword than he did with the Tonfa. He wouldn’t have to go through it himself, he figured— he could just toss something through and study how it worked. He picked up the blade and looked it over before holding it out to the air in front of him. Leonardo had told him that he had to have a very clear image in his mind— no other thoughts clouding it. Any mistake or misthought could lead to an unstable portal, and unstable portals were extremely dangerous. You could get trapped between rifts, or get portal jacked, or end up hundreds of miles away from where you intended! Donnie closed his eyes to better imagine the room in front of him. Every fine detail... every flaw and crack and puddle and crawl space... every bug skittering around and every sound and every smell surrounding him like a cloud of mist.

He traced the blades point through the air and he was sure he could feel some minor resistance, but he kept focusing on the room. Droplets falling on the stone floor... forming puddles...echoing down the tunnels...

He completed the circle and opened his eyes. Immediately he pulled back as the brightest shade of turquoise almost blinded him, and after a moment of shielding his eyes he finally forced himself to look toward the brightness. The circle wasn’t perfect. In fact, the rift itself seemed almost squiggly, as if distorted by water. Distorted, but hopefully functional. Donnie took a pen out of his tool belt and reluctantly approached the portal, resisting against the temptation of its mystic pull and holding out the pen ready to throw it in. Then another thought occurred to him. What if he just…

He dropped the pen. At first the pen made as if it was going to fall but stopped midair by some otherworldly force. Then it was drawn to the portal and through it with a bubbling noise as it disappeared. Then another rift came to existence above Donnie and, before he could do anything more than look up to it, the pen fell out and hit him on the head.

“Ow.” It didn't hurt, but he said it anyway as he picked up the pen and put it back where it belonged. Curious. Very curious…

He took the sword and slashed through the original portal, destroying both it and its awkward counterpart with nothing more than a soft blip as the magic returned to the blade. There, no harm done! Now all that was left was Michelangelo’s.

A long chain, surprisingly rust-free for how far back it dated. The previous owners must have taken extreme care to keep it in the shape it was in. A chain that, despite how flexible and controlled it looked in Michelangelo’s skilled hands, was short and almost stiff in Donnie’s. The weighty was only on one end, as opposed to both as would be used with most kusari-fundo. A round weight with a ring of spikes across it. Donnie gave one point an experimental poke and yelped as it broke the skin and he started to bleed.

“Another note to self— pointy bit sharp.” He examined the serrated edges a bit longer before moving onto the goggle-inspection.

The sacral chakra, as Donnie had expected. Swadisthana, the orange chakra located in the lower belly. Connected to empathy and intimacy, pleasure both sensual and sexual. Creativity, fantasies, feelings. Everything that made up Michelangelo. An imbalance could lead to someone with boundary issues… yes, definitely Michelangelo, Donnie added to himself with a slight snort as he remembered just how clingy and touchy this world’s Michangelo’s was. At least his world’s always directed that touch-hunger to Raph or Leo and not to him.

A carving on the side of the weight caught Donnie’s attention and he spun it around to get a better view. The design was very faint, but it was there. It looked almost like a smiley face with closed eyes, something Donnie figured to have been added quite recently by Michelangelo. But further examination of it showed that the carving was old, as old as the weight itself, and installed by a previous owner. He even doubled and triple checked just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Now all that was left to do was test it out. He had minor experience with chain weapons (the likes of which still haunted him to his day and made him give an uncomfortable shiver) and it wasn’t like he was actually going to fight with it! He was just going to test out the weight distribution and how effective it would be during fights since he had yet to see any of the other-world counterparts in battle.

He grabbed the handle securely, nodding at the nice distribution he was already feeling. He was just about to take a swing when he remembered the goggles still on his face and decided to take them off first, in case they somehow screwed with any of his data. He did so and turned to swing the kusari-fundo once more until something else this time stopped him in his tracks.

The glow didn't stop. He had taken off the mystic sensors and he tapped his head just to be sure! But the glow didn't stop. The smiling face was a much more prominent yellow against the orange, and Donnie was sure its eyes had been closed before…

The pupils in the eyes moved to stare at him and Donnie screamed and dropped the weapon in horror as he crawled back against the wall. The weapon pursued. On it’s own with no master or anything physical to command it. It drifted up and it’s living, flaming eyes followed Donnie’s every move. He made an experimental motion toward the door and the weapon made the same motion as it readied to pursue until Donnie returned to his original position.

The thud of approaching feet sealed Donnie’s fate in stone. Seconds later, seven mutant turtles poked their heads into the room, three of them armed and the other four looking confused and concerned by their lack of weapons.

“Donnie?” Leo tried to make a motion to approach his brother, but quickly withdrew out of the room when the kusari-fundo gave a warning spark. “The hell’s that thing?”

“Sparky!” Michelangelo ran into the room confidently with his arms extended, his brothers spilling in after him.

“Wait, no!”

Donnie awaited a terrifying assault that didn't happen. Instead, the fiery weapon subsided it’s flame and fell swiftly through the air to land in Michelangelo's arms. Michelangelo cuddled it closely and churred as he covered the tiny face in kisses.

Finally able to breath, Donnie went to part from the wall, but was stopped by a rough hand the size of his plastron.

The anger in Raphael’s eyes was uncanny. “You have a lot of explaining to do…”

#tmnt fic #rottmnt #Tmnt 2012 #fanfic #Tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rise raphael #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey

80 notes · View notes

yerawizardjulia · 3 years

Text

Too Rich for a McNugget (Wolfstar)

A university student enters an antique shop in a panic. How do you buy a wedding gift for a cousin you hate?

Sirius wouldn’t have looked twice at the dusty shop if he wasn’t stupidly, desperately late. The high street itself was laughing at him and he was uncomfortably aware of the scrubby guy on the bench that had definitely seen him walk past the same shop window three times in a desperate attempt to see anything other than tea towels and obnoxiously cheerful decorated mugs with ‘World’s best dad’ printed on the sides in Comic Sans. His fingers were slippery in anxious sweat as he pressed the home button on his phone, his iPhone six, another reason his presence would be scorned at this godforsaken gathering. The smudgy screen blinked into life and displayed, seemingly smugly after Sirius’ growing resentment towards the device, 12:42.

Twenty fucking minutes. If he didn’t show up with a gift he might as well not show up at all, an option he would have embraced wholeheartedly if his mother hadn’t pincered him into a corner at their last, regularly depressing routine coffee catch up and told him the deeds to his inheritance were under considerable threat if he did not attend. He wouldn’t have minded, but being twenty grand in debt to an English degree in a rented apartment with black mould creeping onto the ceiling made him reconsider his options.

Fucking Narcissa.

He wouldn’t have been looking forward to the wedding even if she wasn’t marrying a right wing, Eton-educated, ‘can’t control these blasted immigrants’ CEO of whateverthefuck that looked as though he’d never even touched an item of clothing that didn’t come from Armani. It was so typical of his cousin to find a man who deferred so minimally from their shared families’ frankly alarmingly consistent Tory heritage that Sirius had had to do some extensive Googling to confirm that Lucius Malfoy was not in fact, a not-so-distant relative.

A text buzzed in his hand, the little green notification welcome on the screen. At least it was an excuse to loiter outside this shop window for another minute or so without looking like a genuine psychopath.

‘Just get her a toaster or something idk.’

Sirius hadn’t really expected James’ solution to his predicament to be helpful, but his flatmate’s response nevertheless sent the hopeless feeling in his stomach a few inches lower. He had never expected for his future to be balanced on the purchase of a wedding gift, but he would almost prefer to sit his first-year exams, which he had taken with a hangover so severe it felt like he was going to vomit out of his eyeballs, all over again than have to look at this shop window for a second longer. He pictured sitting in a gutter in London, like the tramps that his mother refused to make eye contact with during their trips out during his childhood, drinking from a bottle wrapped in brown paper and thinking; if only I had gone with the luxury jam set. He had discarded the idea after noticing the Tesco’s Finest logo above the barcode, but it was beginning to look like his best option.

Another text. No, a call. Sirius shoved the phone back into his hoodie he was using to mask the aristocratic wedding attire beneath. Keepers of pretentious little shops such as the ones lining this dusty high street tended to bump their prices through the roof if they saw someone of his blood walk in. Old blood. Old money. It was unfair, really, because Sirius didn’t actually have any. If he did, he probably wouldn’t mind paying the exorbitant prices; James spent half his life agonising over how independent businesses were being suffocated by Amazon. But Sirius had nothing to his name until his dear grandparents decided to snuff it. The phone ceased buzzing waspishly in his pocket, and he decided he had better check who he was ignoring.

Typical fucking Regulus.

Probably the only human being under twenty that actually went out of his way to call people, rather than text. He would be there already, exchanging pleasantries in the foyer of the Malfoy’s third manor home. Checking to see whether the Black family disappointment was showing his face, or if he’d have to rely on his six predicted A* grades and brand new Porsche that probably cost more to insure than it did to buy to present himself as the golden child. He’d probably have a stupid little flower in his stupid little button hole. Being a cousin of the bride and a groomsman of the groom, Regulus had firmly nestled himself already into this hideous conjunction of families. He had a job lined up for him in Malfoy’s London branch. In six months, he’d probably have his own office.

Sirius had diluted his shampoo with water for the second time this morning.

He scowled and kicked a bottle cap along the pavement as he stumped, once again, down the row of shops. The circular metal projectile skittered across the tarmac and bounced off a door frame. He stopped, staring suddenly at the sign swinging on a pair of metal hooks like it was a medieval fucking tavern.

Fletcher’s Quality Gifts and Trinkets.

Somehow, inexplicably, Sirius’ eyes had slid over this shop four times as he’d panicked his way up and down this stretch of pavement. There was no window display, that was why. The door fit seamlessly between Bobbin’s Haberdashery and a derelict Cafe Nero. Sirius felt his phone buzz again and suppressed the urge to throw it into the path of the lazy, midday traffic crawling its way up the high street. He stared at the chipped paint and begged silently, to whatever entities may have been listening, that he would find something, anything to take to this fucking wedding.

The door jammed awkwardly on the floor as Sirius pushed it open. It made a juddering, dry squeak, scuffing on the splintery wood. Sirius winced, and half thought about just turning tail and walking out again, going back to pick up that cheap-as-shit jam set. Narcissa probably didn’t even eat jam. Was jam vegan?

He had to push his way in sideways, and as he did so, the door unstuck, swinging open and leaving him standing, pointlessly squashed back against the door frame. Sirius closed his eyes and wondered whether anything was going to go right today.

When he opened them, a guy was blinking at him from behind a checkout desk. A book was open on the surface before him and his long legs with too short trousers that showed a few inches of garishly coloured socks were rested upon the desk next to the till. He removed them hastily to the floor as Sirius stared.

“Sorry, the door- It gets stuck- you have to like-“ He mimed something that Sirius couldn’t even begin to relate to unsticking a door. “Sorry,” he finished, lamely. He bent over his book. Sirius peeled himself from the frame, not taking in the low beams that he would probably hit his head on or the items grouped together in nonsensical piles on the shelves and stacked on the floor.

This guy was gorgeous. He had an odd collection of features that were nothing special, when you looked at them individually- a nose that listed to the left, a thin top lip, a smattering of pigmentation on his cheeks that suggested acne that had been grown out of- but together... Sirius couldn’t stop staring at him. That tawny hair- fucking tawny, who am I, William pissing Wordsworth?- That sharp chin, those long fingers that teased the edge of the paper as he finished reading his page.

He was absolutely, fundamentally, not Sirius’ type. Any romantic entanglements he had had- and granted, it was not a long list (he and James had one sellotaped to the fridge)- involved men so deep in the closet they were practically choking on mothballs. They were footballers, mostly, insecure, ‘just experimenting’. Sirius didn’t know why his gaydar was sounding off so strongly. Was it the deeply uncool granddad jumper that somehow looked like it belonged in Men’s Vogue when draped over his long torso? Sirius was hardly modest about his own looks, but if he tried that jumper on he would look like the kid that forgot his P.E. kit. The same went for the not-skinny, not-baggy jeans that looked as though they were made for literally anyone other than him but somehow, looked really cool and why did Sirius love those hideous socks so much? Did they have pineapples on them?

The guy, seemingly unaware of Sirius lurking behind the shelf closest to the door, propped the book up in his hands, and Sirius read the title- The Picture of Dorian Grey.

Well, there it is.

“IneedapresentforacousinIhatewho’smarryingaguythathasprobablynevereatenaMcDonald’schickennugget.” Sirius was hardly more aware of the words projectile vomiting from his mouth than he was of the way he was sidling towards the checkout desk with his hands wringing in front of him like he was expecting this guy to stand up and shout at him.

Brown eyes emerged from behind the finest work of Oscar Wilde, carrying a look of mild alarm.

“Because, he’s rich, not a vegetarian.” Sirius finished. His mouth seemed a long way behind his brain, but perhaps that was a good thing, because his brain was currently screaming FUCK ME and Sirius was not willing to be barred from any more establishments for hedonistic behaviour.

“A wedding present?” His voice was mild, like Sirius had just asked a perfectly normal question for a stranger to ask a shop employee.

“Uh, yeah.” Why was he blushing? He never blushed. He stepped back needlessly as the guy rose from behind the desk. He was tall. Proportionately tall, with long limbs and a long neck and long god knows what else. Sirius nearly fell to his knees in reverence when the guy cracked a smile that caused a dimple to poke in his cheek and exposed sharp canines that Sirius never considered worth noticing in anyone before but holy fuck he would be now.

“You know what, I think I’ve got something.” He was walking away down one of the dark-ish isles, stooping considerably to avoid the beams and Sirius was trailing after him, awkward and out of place and acting so drastically not like himself he wondered if he had sustained a concussion at some point. Maybe when he was forcing his way through that rude fucking door. The hair at the nape of this guy’s neck curled slightly like he was due a haircut. His trainers were really beat up and old, and Sirius was sure he could see one of the laces fraying and considered whether he should warn him he was about to trip.

“When is this wedding?” His voice was still mild and almost disconcertingly polite; he had stopped and was rummaging among a pile of objects on a shelf-seriously, how was anyone supposed to find anything in here?- and Sirius was still staring at his trailing shoelace.

“Well, sort of now.”

He stood up a bit straighter as the brown eyes widened, and he was looking at him, properly, for the first time and Jesus Christ, how were you supposed to stand normally? Where were your arms supposed to go? Eyebrows, light brown and shapeless and a bit sparse at the ends, furrowed and he let out a small huff of amusement. It was the politest expression of ‘this dude’s a complete disaster’ that Sirius had ever seen. “I’ve been putting it off,” he added needlessly. Something about the way this guy was now looking him up and down as if he could read his life story just from Sirius’ tailored trousers that he’d forgotten to get dry cleaned and his hoodie that was actually James’ and his shoes that looked expensive but were actually from TKMaxx was making him need to offer increasingly poor explanations for his shambles of a life. “I don’t want to go, but I have to, and I hate weddings anyway, but especially this one, and I-‘

The look of curious amusement on the guy’s face- god, Sirius really wanted to know his name- halted his rambling. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m not normally this stressed.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, as if it was his job to tolerate a load of garbled nonsense from strangers, like he did it regularly, in fact, which made him wonder what kind of people actually came into this shop that you could barely tell existed. He was still rummaging through the shelves, Sirius was pretty sure a couple of things had fallen off the back and were now in the dark recesses of the between-shelf-and-wall space where things went to die. God, did anyone ever actually buy anything in here? He found it easier to control himself when the guy stopped x-raying him with his eyes, so he said “er, how long’s this shop been here?”

“Oh, I’ve only worked here six weeks. No idea, ages, probably.” He picked up a remarkably creepy porcelain figure of a shepherdess that was covered with so much dust that at first glance, Sirius thought it was some kind of radioactively-deformed elephant.

“I see what you mean,” said Sirius, staring at the figurine reproachfully. “How does anyone find anything in here?” The questions were not what he actually wanted to ask, which involved something along the lines of are you gay-are you single-are you safe from asbestos in this shop and do you think I’m a complete weirdo. He perked up when the guy let out another polite huff of laughter.

“Most customers have been coming in here for years,” he said, “I don’t see a lot of new people.” His eyes flickered to Sirius and back again and Sirius felt as if he was preparing to dive from a very large boat into a sea that was very cold.

“What’s your name?” Sirius asked, louder than he had meant to. He cringed inwardly and for the second time, considered legging it out of the door when he was once again regarded by a pair of searching brown eyes.

“Remus,” he said. Sirius could tell he was waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, because how the fuck could this man get any more attractive, and somehow the name Remus suited him down to his shredded laces, he turned to face him, as if in defiance.

“Hilarious, I know. Remus Lupin, which makes it even better.” Sirius’ resolve cracked at this.

“What?” He squawked, dragging his eyes over Remus again, because he looked like any novelist's wet dream and his name was Remus fucking Lupin... “Mine’s worse.” Sirius said, straightening again. Remus Lupin was rolling his eyes as if in grim acceptance of the barrage of snide jibes that had yet to tumble from Sirius’ mouth, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair at Sirius’ response and his arms were folded across his chest, which pulled the loose neck of his jumper down and exposed a few inches of pale sternum.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sirius grinned at this. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of the pouch/pocket/thing on the front of his hoodie which was definitely not a secure place for his phone, wallet and keys, and held it out.

“Sirius Black. Pleasure to meet you.” Remus’ mouth had fallen slightly open and a smile was touching at the corners of his lips as he took Sirius’ hand. Sirius was almost surprised that there was no jolt of electricity from all the built up static in his woollen jumper, but his skin was cool and his fingers were thin and twiggy and the knuckles were surprisingly big, and he didn’t drop it straight away, which made Sirius wonder if it was intentional, like a sort of gay signal, and then he remembered the Oscar Wilde book on the checkout desk and stopped trying to look for gay signals.

“Holy shit,” Remus spluttered. The profanity rolled masterfully from his lips; Sirius had never quite got the hang of swearing after his stuffy, conservative upbringing. Remus made it sound graceful.

“What a pair, eh?” said Sirius, and then cringed inwardly again because they weren’t a pair, they were complete strangers but somehow it felt like they’d known each other forever and fuck when did it get so hot in here? He looked at the shelves where Remus’ other hand still rested, and tried to ignore the eyes that were sliding up and down his body as Remus Lupin gave him what Sirius recognised as ‘the gay once-over.’ Dressed in the odd assortment of James’ secondary school football hoodie that had been surpassed by the frankly unnatural growth of James’ shoulders, pretentious shoes and crinkled dress trousers, Sirius was acutely aware that he was not looking his whole and considerable best. Christ, he might even look straight.

“There’s um-you said you might have something?” Sirius said, after another twenty five seconds in which Remus’ gaze had lingered on the rings Sirius had forgotten to take off (his mum would kill him if he turned up to a wedding looking like anything other than a Conservative Straight Man) and then drifted to his hair which was probably fried from all the sweating and running about and cheap shampoo. Remus blinked at these words, and whipped his head back to the shelves as if startled he had been caught in the act.

“Yes! Sorry, it’s-erm-can you hold this?” He plonked a cast iron sewing machine into Sirius’ arms who sagged beneath the weight, wheezing as he tried to lock his knees without Remus noticing. What the hell kind of Hulk body was hiding under that jumper? Eyes streaming, he balanced it on top of a pile of ancient National Geographic magazines and prayed it would not succumb to the inevitable force of gravity. Remus was deep into the recesses of the shelf, standing on tiptoe to reach the very back. His socks were visible again and Sirius could see now that they were not pineapples, but durians. Cute. His jumper was riding up as he stretched to whatever unknown artefacts lurked at the very rear and now it was Sirius’ turn to stare, because there was some pale midriff exposed above the waist of his jeans and he was skinny, but not skinny, kind of-lean? Was that the word? He had that vee of muscle above his hip and Sirius was suddenly struggling not to choke on his own tongue.

"Here it is!", came Remus' muffled voice, and Sirius took a step back hurriedly. He was pretty certain he had been gazing glassy eyed at the shop-keeper's navel where a delicate line of dark brown hair descended below his belt, and pinched his own wrist hard behind his back as Remus' head emerged, and he shook some cobwebs out of his curly hair. He was holding a small box, and Sirius’ first thought was that if something covered in that much dust came within eight feet of Narcissa, her immune system would likely spontaneously combust due to overexposure. People like her didn’t have immune systems, they just loaded themselves up with fucking multivitamins and avoided any establishments without at least two Michelin stars.

“Sorry it’s a bit-“ Remus blew a cloud of dust off the top of the box, coughed, and wiped it off on the back of his jeans, muttering ‘need to stop smoking.’

Sirius almost went feral at the image of his lips pursed around a Marlboro, but managed to pull his face into a socially acceptable frame in time for Remus to pass the box to him. “What do you think?”

Squatting in a bed of midnight blue velvet, sat a pair of silver napkin rings. They were ornate, and completely hideous. Sirius started to grin. He picked one up to examine it. It was decorated with a stag, and the other with a doe. It was likely the engraver had never seen these animals in the flesh, which would account for their mildly horrifying humanoid faces.

“Perfect,” muttered Sirius, turning the ugly silver object over in his hand. It was heavy and looked antique, and Sirius knew it would fit right in with the future Mrs. Malfoy’s entirely tasteless kitchen decor. He looked up at Remus, disbelieving in the way he had absolutely nailed Sirius’ mission. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

Remus grinned back, a wondrous sight, his hands half in the pockets of his faded jeans. Sirius returned the napkin ring to its box, and then thought of something that made his smile falter.

“Are these solid silver?”

“Yep,” Remus said happily. “Nineteenth century antiques, I believe.” But Sirius was pushing the box back into his hands, shaking his head.

“I can’t afford that, sorry I-“

“Five quid.” The box flew back into Sirius’ hands before he could blink.

“Come again?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “I’m the only person who knew they were there, and I doubt anyone else would want to bestow something that vile on a newly wedded couple.”

Was this guy even real? Sirius couldn’t quite fathom what he had done to deserve this act of kindness, but he wasn’t about to turn it down.

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly. Remus shrugged again, but the smile remained. He took Sirius back to the counter, where he took the box back from him and, while Sirius dug in his pocket for some change, produced some silvery wrapping paper and parcelled it. Sirius stole a surreptitious glance at him as he tied it off with a navy ribbon. His eyelashes were sandy like his eyebrows, but they were thick and almost touched his cheeks when his eyes were cast down on his work.

Sirius was having a crisis. He had never asked for anyone’s number before, but the thought of walking out of this shop and never seeing this god-sent individual again was criminal. His mouth felt dry. What if he had misread this interaction completely, and Remus was just a friendly, helpful guy? He glanced at the book, now balanced on top of the till while Remus rang up, and took a breath.

“Good book, that” he said, indicating The Picture of Dorian Grey awkwardly. Remus looked from him, to the book, and back again. While Sirius experienced a burning sensation in the base of his chest, Remus nodded non commitantly, and swept the stack of pound coins Sirius had placed on the desk into the till. He looked away, agonising, kicking himself internally at his own ineptness, as he pulled a receipt from the till and passed it and the neatly-wrapped box across the table.

“All done.”

“Thanks.” Sirius could feel his cheeks burning, and decided a clean getaway was well overdue. He had picked up the items and had half turned away when he heard- “I wrote my number on that receipt, you know.”

The burning in his chest now felt like a slowly inflating balloon. He looked down at the smooth piece of paper and saw a number scribbled in biro on its surface. Eleven numbers. Definitely a phone number. He turned hastily back to Remus, who was- Sirius was pleased to see- also looking slightly bashful.

“Thought my gaydar had malfunctioned for a minute there,” Sirius said. Remus laughed.

“It was really great to meet you.” He said, placing his feet up on the desk again.

“And you,” Sirius replied. Elated, he headed for the door before Remus could change his mind. He dreaded to think how late he was now, but he couldn’t think of a situation more worth a bollocking from his mother than this one. He had yanked the reluctant door open when-

“Hey, Sirius?”

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder. Remus was peering over the top of his book at him again.

“Let me know how the wedding goes.”

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #muggle au #Marauders #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #wolfstar au #remus x sirius #remus is a little shit and i love him

33 notes · View notes

dzamie-oc · 3 years

Text

03 - Steampunk

I’ll admit, this is a bit reductionist for a punk story, but gimme a break, I wrote this in only a few hours :P

Length: 2200 words Rating: T (mild description of blood and death) Summary: A factory worker makes a dragon. They grow up together and eventually enact a little bit of class warfare and a little bit of revenge.

-----

Finn’s desk was half covered in a pile of assorted junk - gears, pipes,twisted bits of scrap metal, keys for long-dead springs, and so much more, almost all tarnished, covered in coal soot, or both. However, his attention was focused on the other half, a carefully cleared space with only a few mechanical pieces strewn about, all polished to perfection. Most importantly, in the middle, sat a small, mechanical device of his own creation. Its body was unfinished, exposing much of its inner workings to the naked eye - and the elements, if he let it get that far. A head like a mix of a lizard and a dog, a long, flexible neck, a body that one might mistake for a large, metallic rat’s, and a slender tail which ended in a thin, metal cone. The young teen, with a degree of care unusual to someone with such a rat’s nest of hair, delicately positioned his creation to lay on its back, curled its legs in, and gently inserted a brass key into a particular, well-shaped hole in its chest. Once, twice... three times he turned, for luck.

Through the background din of machinery, he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps and froze. Reflexively, his free hand flew to the ignored pile of scraps, then slowly dragged one over, taking just long enough for him to listen to the footsteps pass by and once more out of earshot. Finn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, furtively glanced left and right, just in case, and removed the wound key.

Gears and wheels began to spin with a soft whirr, and a look of wonderment spread across Finn’s face as the mechanical legs twitched, then cycled in the air. Its head lifted, letting him stare into its dark eyes, no longer as lifeless as they’d always seemed to be.

“Hey, little guy,” the boy said, “welcome to the world. I’m Finn. I almost hate to dump this on you, but... look, in case I can’t, keep wound, and keep hidden. I wish I could show everyone how cool you clearly are, but-”

Suddenly, more footsteps. Footsteps he recognized, and recognized well. Finn hissed an apology to the dragon and quickly covered it with the nearby metal bowl he’d kept its parts in, then grabbed a part from the pile and set about rubbing it with a rag nearly as filthy as the part. A valve, he realized after his first pass of rubbing - after so many years, his hands knew how to move without thinking, or even realizing what was in them. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and Finn scrubbed at the metal. With a sigh, he wondered if he’d just gotten it dirtier. He went to pass it ahead into a bucket of valves, when-

“Finnegan Shine!” came the shrill voice of a woman who thought herself far more cultured than she knew she could even aspire to. “Just what are you doing with that thing?”

Finn’s “good afternoon, Ms. Springwarden” was cut off by her question, so he looked at the metal in his hand. “I’m... putting it with the other valves after cleaning it?”

Ms. Springwarden harrumphed. “Cleaning it! Just what HAS that first-shift supervisor been teaching you?” She looked at the valve - and at Finn - with a sneer. Finn always thought that, if disdain was an Olympic sport, Ms. Springwarden would have enough gold to live somewhere nice and stop tormenting him - although, he had to admit, perhaps she would still torment him for the fun of it. “Why, I can barely tell it apart from that filthy pile!”

The boy put on a puzzled expression. “Really? But I’ve been going at it with my cleanest rag for a solid minute,” he lied. Of all the people in Alma Vera, she was the last person he ever wanted to even consider the existence of his hidden project. Still, he held up three more well-used cloths, to show her that at least part of his claim had been true.

Another harrumph. “And not once did you think that, just maybe, you ought to trade them for washed cleaning equipment?”

“But Ms. Springwarden, I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave my chair during my shift?”

“Foolish child,” the woman replied, and brought her hand towards his forehead, finger primed to flick. At the last second, however, Finn saw a look of disgust, and she withdrew so as not to touch his, charitably, under-washed face. “Rise and follow me. But don’t let me catch you out of your seat without my permission!”

“Yes, Ms. Springwarden!” Finn said, and stood. The four dirty rags were exchanged for four clean ones, or at least as clean as would pass at his work. Thus equipped, Finn was returned to his seat - the bowl still overturned, to his relief.

Ms. Springwarden crossed her arms and said, “who knows how many valuable components you’ve ruined with your folly. You do remember our motto, do you not?”

Finn nodded. “Quality and quantity, Ms. Springwarden.”

The woman harrumphed yet again, and picked up two of the buckets he had sorted parts into, and dumped them into the assorted pile. “Well, let us now remedy your mistake. You will have to clean each of these now befouled pieces once again, and be quick about it!” She glared at him. “Your work ends when your pile is gone, and not a second, nor a part, sooner.”

“Yes, Ms. Springwarden.”

Finn returned to his task, and after a few seconds, he heard one last derisive snort, and then footsteps trailing away. The boy dramatically picked up his pace once she was gone, and before long, he had undone the damage to his progress she had inflicted on him. Another look left and right, and he placed his hands on the bowl, praying that the dragon truly was still there.

“Hey, it’s me,” he whispered, so the dragon wouldn’t try to hide. When he revealed the metallic creature, it had its forepaw in its chest, twisting the mechanism inside. Once finished, it looked up at him and swished its tail, accompanied by the soft, metallic whirring of gears. “That was Ms. Springwarden. They say that, somewhere out there, at least three people are unable to make that ‘hmph’ sound, because she’s using all of theirs.” The dragon leaned its head down, opened its jaws, and picked up a twisted bit of scrap metal, then shook it around a bit, which got a chuckle out of Finn. “It’s too bad you’re not as big as the dragons I’ve heard the people who live on airships have. You could just eat her, then. Although, I wouldn’t have been able to hide you while I built you.”

The clockwork creature flicked its head and sent the scrap flying through the air, to land in the discard bucket. “Fast learner,” Finn remarked. “So, you need a name. I think... Eve.” He paused. “It’s not weird to name you after an elementary school crush, is it?”

Eve responded by tossing another bit of scrap into the bucket, then wiping her mouth on his hand.

-----

Finn prowled through the dense pipework of the underground, eyes peeled for the rats he was supposed to exterminate. In one hand, he held a bag full of rodent corpses - his proof for payment. The other hand gripped what might charitably be called a tiny harpoon launcher. It looked similar to a certain toy gun, popular among the children of wealthy families, and that was no accident - although he would have the kid he stole it from think otherwise. With a bit of tinkering, a wire to save on ammunition, and a much better spring, Finn considered himself the second best at this sort of job, something that led people to avoid asking too much about the improvised tool.

A squeak cut short, then rapid metal-on-metal clanking heralded the arrival of the first best at this sort of job. Eve trotted up to him, two dead rats in her mechanical jaws. Over the past five years or so, Finn had found or fashioned bigger replacement parts for his dragon until she stood nearly at his waist. Long since unable to hide her under a bowl, of course, the story now was that she was a defective mechanical dog he had scored for a pittance. Regardless, Eve stood attentively next to him, waiting for him to open the bag for her. When he did, one rat fell into the pile of its brethren, and as for the other...

Eve tossed and flicked her head until the rodent’s body aligned with her jaws. A new whirring noise kicked in as sets of wheels dragged it down her metal throat, and then a sickening grinding sound bounced around the pipes and fixtures. The dragon opened her mouth again and wiped it on his pants leg, to his mild dismay.

“You’re gonna have to drop that habit, or I’ll put you back on winding-only.”

Eve went still for a few seconds, but the gentle whirring of her insides picked up. When she moved again, she brought one upturned forepaw in front of the other, then cycled them around each other, and finally tapped her throat.

“Break a habit for a voice?” Finn asked. “Eve, voices are hard to come by. You know I would’ve gotten you one by now if I could.”

The sound of a much smaller creature skittering along the metal ground caught both of their attentions. Finn spun, aimed, and pulled the trigger, and a barbed, pointed pole flew from the tip of his weapon, with metal wire following shortly after. The rat screamed a squeaky scream, then fell quiet, and Finn reeled in his shot and prize.

Eve pressed her paw against his leg for his attention. She pointed her muzzle at the gun, then curled back at her own chest, and then she once again tapped her paw to her neck with an insistent clank-clank-clank. Finn furrowed his brow. “I’m pretty sure voice boxes are in a league of their own...” he started, then smiled broadly at her. “Then again, so am I. Mind giving up more than half your rats from now on, so we can go shopping for anything we can’t find?”

The dragon’s metal plating rattled against itself as she wiggled in anticipation, then bounded off to massacre more vermin.

-----

It was a glorious ceremony. Everyone sported their most elaborate suits and dresses, all in a modest brown. Some of the more adventurous gentlemen had constantly-turning gears on the hats they politely kept in their laps, but no longer were they nor their headwear the center of attention. Ms. Springwarden, soon to lose that name, stood in a beautiful, ornate, white dress, and stared adoringly at the man standing in front of her, who-

BOOM!

A shout rose up from the crowd as what used to be a wall was replaced by a hole and a dragon. The elaborate mechanical creature’s outer plating was a mismatch of bronze, iron, and steel, as though it had been dressed in a junkyard. And perched on its back was a man with a daring grin, who Ms. Springwarden found strangely familiar...

“Well! Ms. Springwarden, aren’t you moving up! The big boss himself, I wonder if you’ll outlast his last four wives!” Finn shouted as he dismounted the dragon, landing with a roll and ending up right next to the bride-to-be.

Without opening her mouth, Eve spoke. “I am confident he will be her husband for the rest of his life,” she said. Her voice was unnatural, amateurish, and it sounded like it belonged in some sterile, form-over-function research lab, rather than a well-tuned dragon. Before anyone could react, she opened her jaws and snapped up the stunned man, soon feeding him to the wheels hidden behind her neck plating.

“Aw! Eve! I had planned this whole quip about how his factories have a great quantity of people and I’m about to increase the average quality!”

“So lie in your memoir.”

Many of the guests had fled the scene, with only a few hiding behind the benches, and Ms. Springwarden herself remained frozen to the spot. “Wh- who...?”

Finn swept into a deep bow, mockingly low. “Finnegan Shine, Ms. Springwarden. My friends call me Finn, but of course you never did. You may not remember me, and I sorely wish I could say the same. But now then...” He stepped backwards towards Eve, who lowered her head and opened her jaws. Finn leaned against her neck, feeling the whirr of the wheels making up her throat thrumming through her metal body. “They say marriage is for better or worse, right? What say you join your hubby in the ‘worse?’”

Eve’s distorted voice joined in once more, saying, “I remember you. That he is offering you a refusal is far more than I would have.”

The woman - having found a worse fate than being left at the altar - took a step back, shaking her head. “No... no. Please, no.”

To everyone’s surprise, the dragon snapped her mouth shut with a loud crash of metal, and Finn clambered back up onto her back. “Then it’s a damn lucky thing I’m not you, miss,” the man said, before the pair of them escaped through the dragon-sized hole in the wall.

Finn hugged Eve’s neck tight. One down, an unfortunate number to go. He just hoped his friends were having as much fun as he was.

#dragon #dragons #smaugust #smaugust 2021 #steampunk #writing #text

7 notes · View notes

star-six7 · 4 years

Text

I’ll Stand Up With You Forever

Andy Biersack x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 1461

Request: Can you write an Andy Biersack imagine on a honeymoon?

A/N: This is my longest one yet! I really enjoyed writing this; if you guys have any more requests for any band listed in my bio, please send them in!

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You closed your eyes and sighed happily, settling back into your seat. The flight from Cincinnati to Maui was a long one, and you didn’t want to be jet-lagged all week. Today marked your first full day of being married to one Andrew Dennis Biersack, and it was also going to be the first day of your two-week long honeymoon in Hawaii. Needless to say, you were the happiest you had ever been. You replayed the highlights of your wedding (and the night after) as the plane taxied down the runway, smiling. It was an amazing feeling to know that you had the rest of your life to keep making those kinds of memories with Andy, and you couldn’t wait.

Andy couldn’t wait either, but even more so, he couldn’t wait for the plane to take off. Or land. Or both. He kept leaning over you to peer out the window. You wondered if his legs or his back felt cramped, given his height, but when you opened your eyes, he was grinning.

“What’s up?” You smiled back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe we’re finally married! I can’t believe we’re going on our honeymoon. Can you believe it? I can’t.”

You laughed quietly at his enthusiasm, glancing down at your own wedding band. “Are you sure you don’t want the window seat?” You asked him, gesturing at the setting sun.

“Why would I need the window seat when the best view is sitting right next to me?” He smirked.

You blushed, slightly giddy that he still managed to take your breath away after all these years. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “I’m gonna try and sleep now, okay? I wanna be awake for at least some of our honeymoon.”

“So… we’re not joining the Mile High Club?”

You groaned and covered your face with the in-flight magazine.

“Come on babe, don’t you want to get with an extremely handsome rockstar?” He winked exaggeratedly.

“Actually, yes, do you know any?” You lowered the magazine and grinned at him.

“I’m hurt,” he said, feigning disappointment. “But after years of knowing you, I am definitely not shocked.”

“Well,” you said, leaning your head back against the seat, eyes closed. “Go to sleep. We have the rest of our lives to try again.”

---

After twelve hours and some change, the plane touched down. You had managed to get a decent amount of sleep, even with Andy’s fidgeting and restlessness. However, taking off during a sunset and landing half a day later during the same one due to the time zones was enough to throw off anybody’s internal clock, and therefore, make them a bit grumpy.

You frowned as Andy led you to the rental car, luggage in tow. “Can’t we just check in at the hotel and go to bed? My body is telling me it’s six am!”

“Nope!” he said, grinning far too brightly for someone who hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. “Can’t get off schedule!”

You sighed as he kissed your cheek and started humming lightly as he drove. While you had taken care of most of the smaller details of your actual wedding and reception, Andy had been in charge of the honeymoon. You had both decided on a destination, and you had given your input on some of the activities you were looking forward to (at least, those that took place outside of the bedroom), but Andy did the bulk of the work as far as making reservations and planning an itinerary. And Andy loved planning itineraries.

Every trip you had gone on as a couple, Andy had meticulously outlined every day of it, almost down to every hour. This could be both a blessing and a curse, because while it was nice to have a plan, Andy was pretty insistent on sticking to it. You had joked before that he should plan the mission timelines for NASA. He just laughed and said that years of being in a far-traveling, highly successful rock band following a strict tour schedule had drilled it into him, and besides you were stuck with him, weren’t you? Yes, you thought now, looking back down at the ring on your finger, you were stuck with him, and you couldn’t be happier.

The jolt of Andy putting the car into park snapped you out of your reminiscing, as you looked around, taking in the restaurant he had pulled up to.

“Come on, I know this will make you feel better! I looked up the menu a few weeks ago, and I think you’ll love it!”

You just smiled, shaking your head. Of course he did. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do. And you know I love you too.” He put his arm through yours and led you inside.

---

Andy was right, like always. Eating delicious food while looking out over a stunning view of the ocean did wonders to your mood, not to mention simply just talking and laughing with Andy and being with him. Soon, it was time to pick up the check and head back to the hotel.

You had parked in the basement lot of the building, but Andy grabbed your arm when you went to get the suitcases out of the back of the trunk.

“Wait,” he said, a playful look coming across his face. “We should do something first.”

“Huh? What about the schedule?” You edged out of his grasp. “I’m still in my plane clothes. And besides, don’t you wanna do something in our room?” You added a note of flirtation in your voice.

“No, it’s- I mean, yes! Yes, I wanna do bedroom activities, but-” And then he grabbed your hand and started sprinting towards the exit.

“Andy, what-” you tried, stumbling to keep up.

He just laughed and stopped to pick you up and swing you over his shoulder. “You’re too slow, come on!”

By this point, the sun had set over the island, but Andy navigated the dark path through the hotel grounds with ease. He skittered sideways through an open gate and down a sandy concrete walkway towards what you realized was the beach.

“Andrew! You better not be planning on throwing me in the water or I swear-”

“Good idea,” he laughed, “but no. You should take off your shoes.” He set you down on the sand.

You complied, as he did the same, and then you waded out into the surf with him. You watched Andy as he immediately began searching for shells to give you, knowing how much you loved to collect them. All of a sudden, the entirety of the past few days started to catch up with you all at once. While there wasn’t any scientific proof of fate, or soulmates, or anything like that, you couldn’t help but feel like every decision, every event, in both your life and Andy’s had led you to this exact moment. Standing knee deep in water, alone on the beach at night, with the moon shining down on the two of you as you tried not to get soaked by the incoming tide. Every disappointment and roadblock you had experienced snapped into place, and now you could appreciate them for where they had gotten you. You admired the way the moonlight glinted off Andy’s smile, the way his arms had felt around you moments ago, and the way his laugh sounded over the waves. You knew that there would certainly be more challenges in the course of your life, but you knew you could get through them with someone as kind, talented, smart, beautiful, and loving as Andy by your side.

Suddenly, you were pulled back into reality by the shock of ocean water down your front. Whirling to your right, you saw Andy standing next to you with the most see-through attempt of a look of innocence on his face. However, you couldn’t find it in you to pretend to be annoyed.

“Hey, so, if you missed it the first five times, I found you a-”

“Andy.” You cut him off. “Um. I know I only said it a million times yesterday, but… I really love you. And I’m so glad you’re in my life, forever now…”

Unwittingly, you felt yourself starting to tear up.

“Hey,” Andy said, moving closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoulders. “I know, I love you too, and you complete me. That’s kinda why we got married, remember?”

You chuckled, smiling up at him. “I’m glad that we’re having this moment and everything, but it’s getting cold…”

“You’re right,” he said, taking your hand in his. He glanced wistfully up at the hotel, a sly smile appearing on his face. “Maybe we should go take advantage of the honeymoon suite.”

A/N: Thank you for reading my work! If you enjoyed it, please comment and let me know what you liked about it or what your favorite part was! Also, feel free to send in requests! :)

#andy biersack imagine #andy biersack x reader #bvb imagine #black veil brides imagine #andy biersack #black veil brides #imagine #reader insert #x reader #bandom imagine #bandom #band imagine

259 notes · View notes

creativeskullcreations · 3 years

Text

Outside chapter 22: United and Split

There maybe three to four chapters to go after this one. Which is good cause I'm running out of chapter titles lol. It's harder than you'd think trying to come up with a unique one for each chapter.

Also I based the way Daisy looks off of some old fanart that showed her using a lot of Host arms and hands for legs. I just added the empty eye sockets, which she did herself to scare the Mason and Lisa. I wrote that bit before this came out.

Anyways next chapter should be out in about two weeks, as usual. The Show's about to begin, and you don't want to miss it.

"So where do you think Scout would be in here, anyways?" Lisa asked as they wandered around a room full of creepy mannequins.

"You know, I'll bet she's not in-fucking-here!" Mason answered as he did his best to keep away from the half made puppets. "Lisa seriously why are we even in here it's so creepy! Even the Puppets agree!" And it was true, as he held both Puppets in his arms, both of which had remained silent and almost fearful as the humans explored.

"Supplies!" She announced cheerfully from where she was shoving different colored fabrics into her pockets. "We may need some of this down the line."

"... I don't think the fabric in here is any different from the fabric at Walmart." He pointed out, and she just rolled her eyes as she gathered some more up. She picked up a pair of shiny sewing scissors, turning to show him.

"Look at these! They look so sharp." She held them up and he got closer to examine them. "Looks like they could put someones eye out."

"Yeah, great. Now put them back, and let's go!" His voice dropped to an intense whisper, and she rolled her eyes, shoving them into her pocket with the fabric.

"Fine." She groaned out, taking the little yellow and orange Puppet back. "Let's go see if we can find the others."

They walked out of the room, pausing when something tipped over behind them. Turning back to look, they saw a mannequin had been knocked over. They quickly turned back around and hurried away from the door.

"Lisa."

"Yeah?"

"Please tell me you did that."

Lisa let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "That would be lying, Mason. You know I don't do that."

"Okay." He swallowed to get his voice pitch back in place. "Run!"

They sprinted down the hall, listening as something skittered behind them, steadily getting closer. Mason spotted the crossroads up ahead. "We gotta split up!"

"What?! I am not leaving you to face whatever that thing is alone!" Lisa shrieked, pulling him down the right hand corridor.

"It can't chase both of us!" He stumbled, glancing to catch sight of a spider-like Puppet. "Oh SHIT!" He pulled ahead, spotting Lisa looking back and going pale from the corner of his eye. She pulled ahead of him, grabbing his arm and dragging him down the hall as she tried to gain some distance.

A few seconds after they passed a door it was thrown open, with gunshots following. Mason took the chance to yank out of Lisa's grip and turn, delivering a sharp kick to the thing's face.

Blonde hair and a torn, red dress stumbled back on many flesh and wooden hands. Her head snapped back into place, staring at him with empty eye sockets. With a wordless cry she launched herself at Mason but was stopped by Stacy catching her with the axe.

She smacked against the wall, sliding to the floor as Will finally finished reloading. He fired off four more shots into the Puppet's head, and they watched her sag against the wall. Sammy snatched the axe from Stacy's hands and used it to fully chop her head off, just in case.

For a long moment, nobody moved. And then Bonzai let out a cheer while Stacy stumbled over to a corner and vomited.

"That was totally awesome!" He yelled, and was quickly muffled by Mason.

"For this, Mortimer will kill every Host." Stitch muttered in horror. "And then he'll blame us all the most."

"I can't believe you fucking killed Daisy..." Bit whispered, and Sammy turned towards her in horror.

"That was Daisy?!" Now that she'd said it, he could see the resemblance. Her apron and jewelry were gone and her hair was chipped, but she was still recognizable in the dim light now that he knew.

Will grabbed a loose sheet from nearby and spread it out over the ground, then loaded up the two pieces of Puppet into it while Lisa moved to check on Stacy. "You okay Stacy? You look really pale."

"'M fine." She muttered, wiping her mouth. "Just... didn't really..." She gagged again, and Lisa rubbed her back sympathetically.

"It's okay, hon. You still did great." 'She should've stayed back in the car. Why didn't she follow the plan?' "What the hell are you doing, Will?"

"I am not leaving this thing here to come up behind us later. Besides, we should probably make sure to burn any corpses we make." He held up his makeshift bag. "Scout told me this one is what was making them." He indicated the Handpuppets. "So her, and the other wooden Puppets, we absolutely can't leave behind."

"He's right." Stacy agreed hoarsely. "We leave any of them with a chance of being alive and they'll just do it again, after hunting us all down."

A long, silent pause as they all took that in. "We're burning this fucking place to the ground." Mason muttered. "I am not spending the rest of life looking over my shoulder for stupid freaky Puppets."

"We will. After we get Scout and knock out the rest of these guys." Will indicated the bag again. "So, which one of you knows how to get to her?" He glared at the Handpuppets held by his friends, eyes lingering on Stacy for just a moment.

More silence, as Hosts and Puppets glanced between each other. Will sighed, debating whether to try and choose someone to intimidate for the information. There weren't a lot of options, but luckily the little orange and green one with the bad hair cut spoke up.

"Canon knows." Bonzai started, quietly. He shrunk back when everyone turned to look at him, but continued. "She was helping Mortimer with something to do with Scout. But, I followed her when she went to spy on him. I know where he did his... practices. And where he put Scout."

"Can you take us there?" Stacy asked, almost timidly.

"Yeah, but we should probably hurry. He was planning something... really bad."

Mason led the way, guided by Bonzai's directions and the group followed, Will bringing up the rear with the bag, which would move by itself every now and then. A quick shake and a few discreet kicks kept the monster inside down, however, with no one else the wiser.

-----

"Hmmm, you've truly gotten yourself in a pickle now, haven't you? Would be a shame if someone brought Mortimer's attention to this too." Nick muttered smugly, fitting Riley's yanked off arm back together. The other one had been sawed off near the shoulder, and would require more extensive care. If Mortimer allowed him to perform it, of course.

"Quiet you blithering idiot!" Riley snapped, Host shaking from her anger. "Or shall I tell him what happened to his favorite Sock Puppet!"

"No need to go that far sister dear. We both have things hidden here." A pause as he finally popped the joint back together. "What should we do about those strays? There's no way they can be allowed to stay."

"Obviously not!" She agreed hotly, testing out her repaired limb. "But we can't just drive them out. They're here for that little traitor Scout."

"What makes you so sure? Could just be another group here for treasure." He crossed his arms, watching as her Host hobbled about the room. 'Looks like it's leg is broken. She'll need a new one.'

"That male with the brown hair is what kept me from her Host. He shot at me, so in the end he's worth the most." She explained, collecting some knives from a nearby table.

"Ah, that makes sense." He looked around the room. "Is he the one who made thi-"

"Yes!" She hissed, digging a dog whistle out from her pocket. She blew into it, sound the couldn't hear echoing through the halls. A howl answered her, not too far away based on the volume of it. "And I'll fucking kill him myself!"

"Good luck with that." If Riley was going to break rhyme, then so would he, at least for a moment. "Shall we go get Daisy for this little hunting party?"

"No, leave her to her stitching." Riley watched as Rosco came out of the shadows and into her dimly lit lab. "We'll be needing those Puppets by the morning."

-----

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Bit complained, hanging over Sammy's shoulder. Her, Bonzai's, and Stitch's flashlights were on, as the lights in the building had gone out. More likely, they had been turned off, but given the age and state of the building it could've just been a blown fuse. Either way, it was too dark to see and the Hosts hadn't brought any lights themselves.

"Yes, I'm sure." The male Puppet ground out. "The Sound Stage is down here now."

"How the hell do you even know? You went there through the vents!"

"At least I actually went there!" Bonzai turned to yell, blinding Sammy. "You just stayed in our room like a coward!"

"Okay! Everybody chill for a sec!" Lisa cut in, stepping between them. Let's focus on the goal, and then have a fight when we get out of here."

"No, we're doing this now!" Bit announced, launching herself over the blonde's head and onto Bonzai, who gave a high pitched scream.

Mason sighed, grabbing the two by the backs of their shirts and pulling them apart. "Would you two stop! You're going to get us all killed!" He hissed. He handed Bit off to Stacy, missing the glint in her eyes as she stared down at the red and blue Puppet.

"She started it." Bonzai grumbled, crossing his arms. He didn't relax his tensed shoulders until he was held properly again.

"I don't care who started it!" Will piped up from the back. "If we don't get moving, I'm gonna go up there and finish it!"

There was some more grumbling, but the two Puppets settled down into silence. A while passed as Stitch looked between the two Hosts holding her siblings. 'What an odd way to handle things.' She mused. 'I wonder if this is how they handle Scout. Seems easier than the usual way, at least.

They continued to walk, until Bonzai finally stopped them. "We're here." He said, quietly. "The Sound Stage is just up ahead, through those doors."

"Mortimer's definitely gonna be in there." Bit added.

"So we need a plan, then." Lisa piped up, and everyone turned to look at Will, who was kicking the bag again. He stopped as he felt their eyes on him.

"What?" He shrugged. "I don't know shit about that guy. Ask her." He pointed at Stacy, who looked a bit taken aback.

"Uuuuh go in there and shoot him?" She suggested, after a long moment of thinking. Sammy and Will facepalmed, with her cousin mumbling something.

"Okay." Will sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Good start I guess. But we need a little bit more than that."

"You have that axe." Mason pointed out. "Maybe do something with that."

"No, okay, here's the plan. You three stay out here with the other Puppets. Me and her will go in there and get St-Scout. Then we all run for the exit, and go from there." Will laid out. "Quick, in-and-out, grab-and-go."

"Oh, yeah, nothing can go wrong with that." Bit mumbled, and was shushed.

"Sounds like a decent Plan A. What if something goes wrong?" Sammy asked, even as he accepted Bit from Stacy.

"Then we wing it. Improvise." A pause. "You guys should probably grab some weapons just in case."

With those three distracted, Will started pulling Stacy towards the door, leaning in the whisper dangerously. "We get out of here and you swap back immediately." He hissed. "And never do something like that during a time like this ever again."

"Yeah okay you fuck." Scout hissed back as they crept towards the door. With a quiet count to three, Will reached out, and turned the handle, opening it just enough for them to sneak in.

#hello puppets #outside #fanfiction #riley ruckus #daisy danger #scout #nick nack #canon #bonzai #bit #stitch #will carson #Lisa Montgomery #Mason Kamiya #sammy davis

12 notes · View notes

hushnow-hun · 4 years

Text

Are You Kitten Me?

For shinkamiweek2020. Day 4: College

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25302205

---

“Kaminari, you’ll never guess what,” Shinsou said, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Kaminari was laying on the bed on his front, phone in hand. He peered at Shinsou curiously over his shoulder. “What?”

Careful not to jostle his backpack too much, Shinsou sat on his bed across from his roommate, who was still looking at him expectantly. He unzipped the bag and a pair of round, yellow eyes blinked up at him. “Hey there, girl,” he whispered, gingerly lifting the cat out and putting her on his bed.

“What?” Shinsou looked up to see a gleeful look slowly spreading on Kaminari’s face. “You did not,” he breathed out, sitting up and leaning closer.

A corner of Shinsou’s mouth quirked up. “I did.”

“Oh my god. You brought a cat to our dorm.” He stared at the cat, who for the most part had gotten over Kaminari and was now craning her neck this way and that, surveying their room.

Shinsou extended a finger and she sniffed it briefly, before hopping off the bed. “It’s fine,” he said absently. “It’s not like anyone was there when I came in. Nobody saw my mysteriously wriggling backpack.” Shinsou had speedwalked all the way to their dorm room nonetheless, not too keen on taking chances.

“Can I pet her?” Kaminari asked suddenly.

Shinsou gestured offhandedly. “Go for it. She’s pretty friendly. She didn’t even try to scratch me when I found her.”

Kaminari scooped the cat off the floor and into his arms, cooing softly. Almost instantly, she melted into it, purring when he rubbed a finger on her head. “Found her where?”

“On the way back to campus,” Shinsou answered vaguely. He had spotted the cat sitting by a lamppost when he stepped out the convenience store nearby, blinking back at him. When she butted her head against his knee after he crouched down to pet her, that was it. There was just no way he was gonna leave her there.

“She’s surprisingly well kept for a stray,” Kaminari mused, running a hand over her black fur.

Shinsou hummed, dropping his bag to the floor next to his bed. “Maybe she just got lost recently.”

“You didn’t steal someone’s pet, did you?” Kaminari asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“She doesn’t have a collar,” Shinsou said defensively. Hang on. Don’t tell him the cat could’ve belonged to the nice old man who owned the convenience store. Oh, it’d be even worse if he actually saw Shinsou taking his cat.

The cat meowed loudly, effectively cutting off his train of thought. She squirmed out of Kaminari’s hold and started pacing around the room.

“Do you think she’s hungry?” Kaminari asked.

“Er.” Shinsou blinked. “Must be. You got any cat food on you by any chance?”

Kaminari gave him a weird look. “Dude, did you think this through at all?”

Well. That’s fair. Shinsou wouldn’t call himself an impulsive person, but apparently all that rationale goes out the window when faced with a pair of whiskers. He shrugged at Kaminari.

The cat let out a loud meow again, walking in a circle. Maybe they could give her one of Kaminari’s granola bars for now. She’d like that, right?

Before he could offer the suggestion, there was a knock on the door. Shinsou exchanged wide-eyed looks with Kaminari.

After a beat, Shinsou dove to grab the cat, but she yelped and skittered under the bed, narrowly escaping Kaminari’s hands as well.

The knock came again. “Kaminari? Is everything alright in there?” Iida.

“Everything’s fine!” Kaminari said. He kept shooting panicked glances at the door while moving up to give Shinsou space as he got on all fours and peered under the bed. The cat blended well in the dark space, but Shinsou could still see the wary glint in her eyes as she crouched in the corner.

Iida’s voice came again. “I thought I heard a cat in there.”

“No you didn’t,” Kaminari said, voice comically pitched. Shinsou almost threw a lamp at him. Instead, he settled for gesturing wildly at him to answer the door. Kaminari gestured something back, making faces at him. Shinsou crossed his arms and Kaminari groaned silently, muttering something under his breath before going to the door.

“Iida!” he greeted. The door was open just wide enough for him to pop his head out. From where he’s down next to the bed, Shinsou ran no risk of being seen. He ducked his head down to look at the cat again, if only to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t suddenly dash towards the door. He can’t get her out from under the bed without a guarantee that Iida won’t hear.

“Don’t worry about it. That was just me,” Kaminari said, gripping the door’s edge with the hand above his head. Most likely to keep blocking the view of their room.

Iida sounded skeptical. “That was you meowing?”

“Yup!” Kaminari gave a nervous laugh.

“Why?”

This seemed to catch Kaminari off guard. “I mean, you know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s like, nya.” He pawed the air.

Shinsou had to muffle his snicker.

“Oh, well, alright then.” Iida sounded like he didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Leave him be, Iida.” Was that Sero? How many people were out there? “Kaminari probably just likes that kind of thing.”

Kaminari nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yeah! Thanks, Sero— wait.” Shinsou couldn’t see his face, but he was willing to bet Kaminari was narrowing his eyes at his black-haired friend. “What do you mean by that?”

Sero snickered. “Is Shinsou in there with you?”

“What?” Kaminari’s voice had gone a pitch up again. “No, he’s not— hey!” He was now trying to shut the door, using both his hand and knee. “Stop it! He’s not here! He went out to buy some stuff a while ago.”

Sero laughed, giving up on trying to barge his way in. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Sero!” Iida chided. “If I’m thinking what you’re thinking, and what you’re thinking is correct, then we shouldn’t interrogate Kaminari like this! It’s plain rude.”

“You know what? I’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari shut the door with finality.

Shinsou had moved back to his bed after feeling the strong urge to sit down. He watched Kaminari drop on the bed across from him, the tips of his ears red. The silence stretched between them. “Well,” he said eventually, clearing his throat. “That took a turn for the worse.”

Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said, huffing. He finally looked over at Shinsou and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You don’t have to deal with him on a daily basis.”

Shinsou swatted the hand away. Keeping his tone light, he said, “So you’re saying he does that on a daily basis?”

“I—“ Kaminari caught the look on his face and chucked a pillow at him. “Anyways!” he said, clapping his hand loudly. “So that was reason number one on why we can’t possibly keep her.”

Right on cue, the cat crept out from under the bed, peering up at them. Shinsou sighed, leaning back on his hands. “I know, but I figured we could keep her here until someone claims her.”

“Still a bad idea,” kaminari said in a sing-song voice.

“It’s an idea.” Shinsou picked up the cat and placed her back on his bed.

“Well, what if no one claims her?”

Shinsou thought this over. “I could always bring her to my dad. There’s no way he’d refuse.” Aizawa’s brought home his fair share of felines after all. Hizashi should be pretty used to it by now too.

Kaminari hummed, settling on his back. “We should probably give her a name,” he said after a while. “If she’s gonna be staying here for a bit, I can’t just keep calling her ‘Cat’.”

“It’s not the worse name.” At kaminari’s raised eyebrow, Shinsou added, “It’s definitely accurate. We won’t be mistaking her for something else.” Kaminari gave a snort at that, and Shinsou continued petting the cat. “Anything in mind?”

“How ‘bout Muffin?”

“Muffin?” Shinsou said incredulously. The cat glanced at Kaminari briefly, before going back to inspecting the bed sheet.

“Hmm, Belle?”

“Can’t we pick a name that would actually suit her?”

“Yeah?” Kaminari propped himself up on his elbow, a lazy grin on his face. “What would you name her then? Ebony? Eclipse? Moon Shadow?”

“Oh, fuck off—"

#shinkamiweek2020 #shinkami #shindenki #kamishin #bnha #mha #shinsou hitoshi #kaminari denki #college au #these bois are dumbasses change my mind

115 notes · View notes

lennonknowsmysins · 4 years

Text

safety.

beatle: john

summary: you and john have been in a relationship since you started working for the band a few months ago. six months ago, you were raped by your former boss. on one fateful night, you have to tell john the truth.

tw: THIS FIC CONTAINS DISCUSSION OF RAPE, panic attack-ish

an: this fic is more intense than any of the others that i’ve written but it’s important to me for personal reasons that i won’t go into. writing this has been comforting to me and i hope that reading it will be so for you all.

It was the feeling of his hands.

Running down your back, gripping your hips, forcing your legs apart. Leaving bruises in his wake. Pushing your shoulders onto the bed as he climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists down. He was touching you, hurting you-

"Stop! Please, no!"

His hands were gone. The weight on top of you was gone.

With a whimper, you scampered off the bed, searching for a way out of the room. The soft flutter of a curtain caught the corner of your eye, alerting you of the balcony. You made a beeline for it, racing out the door only to stop in your tracks when you were met with the metal railing. You were enclosed, trapped, no way out. Frantically, you skittered around the balcony, desperate for a way out.

Then his voice came.

Not the voice that had tormented you for the past six months but the ones that had been a source of comfort for the past four. You'd heard it first on the radio, then when he'd hired you and now as he coaxed you off the balcony.

"(yn)" He called, his voice gentle.

You looked up from your cornered position.

John. You were in Paris with John Lennon. You trusted him, he wouldn't hurt you.

Shakily, you got to your feet, unsure of when you had sat down. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Your memory steadily came back. John had invited you to come to Paris with him. He was here for a television interview tomorrow. There had been a social event thrown by the network hosting the interview and you and John had attended. It was the first time since the attack that you had allowed yourself to drink alcohol. Only one glass of champagne and only under the protect of John's arm lazily draped across your shoulders. Then the both of you had retreated back to your hotel room.

You had thought that you'd be fine with having sex again. For God's sake, you were in Paris with John fucking Lennon, you should be fine with having sex. But as soon as you felt his hand on your bare skin, moving up to unclasp your bra, you had been thrown back into your terror.

Now John was stepping towards you slowly, trying to inch you away from the ledge. He stretched his arms out, unsure of what to do, just desperate for you to step away from the railing. Hesitantly, you took a step towards him.

"That's it, birdie. It's okay, let's just go inside. It's cold out here, you must be freezing."

It was cold. You were shivering in just your bra and underwear. John's arms were warm and safe. You rushed into his hold, melting into him as he pulled you to his chest.

"John," You sobbed, letting him cradle you. You were vaguely aware of your knees buckling from under you but John was quick to catch you, carrying you back inside. He placed you on the bed as though he thought you would break if he wasn't gentle enough.

He murmured every comfort he could think of as he rummaged for his tee shirt, pulling it over you. Fingers, calloused from years of mastering the guitar, began to card through your hair. The feeling was nice, it almost made you sleepy. However, you forced your eyes to stay open, to stay trained John so that you knew that it was John touching you. His warm, brown eyes were filled with worry as he took you in, shaking like a leaf beneath him, your eyes filled with tears.

"'m sorry." You croaked, scratching at your knees.

John shook his head, thumb stroking your cheek, "'s alright, love, you don't need to apologize to me."

"No, no, I do. I thought I could do this but...but..." You trailed off, your words catching in your throat.

It was silent for a moment. Then John spoke, his voice steady but uneven.

"(yn), did something happen?"

Six months. It had been six months of pain, of trying to forget what happened. Six months and no one had asked you that.

You were tempted to say no. You didn't want to burden John with this. He was the most popular rock star in the world, he had his music, reputation, band to worry about. This was your beast to take on. But you'd been holding it in for so long, hoping to just forget about it. It had been so lonely, keeping it secret - keeping your hurt secret. And now John was asking you about it. From the meltdown you had just had, maybe you owed him an explanation. So you nodded.

"I was raped."

It was barely a whisper but John had understood. His stomach did a massive flip as his heart took a dive. Subconsciously, he could have seen it coming, not even just from your freak out. There had been smaller signs; sometimes you would flinch when someone touched you, rest a hand on your back or you'd stiffen when being hugged. Whenever unfamiliar male guests showed up at the studio, you were plastered to his side or nowhere in sight. You didn't like to be physically close to men, even the other lads. It had taken John a solid month to be able to hold your hand. You never wanted to stay out late, preferring to just make dinner yourself. The way you'd gripped onto him at George's birthday party when Paul had gotten completely wasted and mistaken you for Jane. To John, it had been funny but when he thought about it, you had been terrified. Close to tears even.

At first, he'd just assumed that you were a little shy and overwhelmed. You were just adjusting to living in London, working for the Beatles. It was an intense world to be in, especially when you were working closely with four boys who had no sense of boundaries.

Now he wondered how he could have been so blind.

How could he have just dismissed those signs, your little ticks and tremors? John Lennon wasn't normally one to admit when he was wrong but right now, sitting in front of you, watching as you made yourself as small as possible, he had no excuse for his ignorance.

When John stayed silent, you continued with a deep breath,

"I-It was six months ago. Just before I started working for you guys. I was interning for him, waiting for him to offer me a real job. He invited me to the opening of his friend's restaurant and I thought that maybe he was planning on finally officially hiring me, so, like an idiot, I went. Got all dressed up and everything." You let out a humor less snort, shaking your head as you looked down at your hands, playing with the hem of your shirt,

"There was bottomless champagne. Made me feel fancy and I drank a lot. I think he made sure of that. Then when I was too drunk to make my way home by myself, he took me back to his apartment and... he raped me."

You shivered thinking back on that night, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. Despite the fact that John's shirt practically went down to your knees, you felt as though you were naked and on display in front of John. You couldn't look at him, you couldn't meet those sad brown eyes. They'd be full of pity, horror, disgust, questioning why you hadn't told him. You were asking yourself that. It was out of you now, no longer sitting at the bottom of your belly and filling you with constant dread.

"Who was it. Who did this to you."

John wasn't giving you a question, he was giving you an order.

"Donny Groves. I haven't seen him since I ran out of his apartment."

He tried to make his fist clenching conspicuous, not wanting to frighten you anymore. He'd heard that name, Groves was growing more prominent as a producer. On top of being a rapist, of course.

"(yn), I'm so sorry." He murmured, not sure of what else to say.

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling, "It's not your fault. You've helped a lot, actually. You make me feel safe."

"You are safe. You're safe with me. He'll never- no one, will ever hurt you again." His voice broke, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. His touch was light as a feather as he placed his hands on your shoulders, "And if that bastard so much as looks in your direction again, I'll beat him, I swear I'll-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

"Thank you for listening to me. I'm sorry for ruining your night." You said softly, placing your hands on his face. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaning his forehead against your's, his rage dissipating.

"You didn't ruin anything, love, it's alright."

“Except that I did,” You groaned, leaning back against the headboard and dropping your head in your hands, “I knew that you’d want to have sex tonight and I thought I could do this - I wanted to do this, I’ve been working up towards it - but I-I-I don’t know, I ruined it.”

John blinked, watching you retreat back into yourself for a moment. He crawled over to you and settled beside you on the bed, close enough for your shoulders to touch. He reached over and took your hand in his, looping his fingers around your’s.

“There’s more to relationships - to our relationship - than sex. It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable with having sex yet, we don’t have to do that yet.” He reassured you gently, “I feel better being able to help you than making you feel uncomfortable. Alright?”

You locked eyes with him, allowing the feeling of warmth to wash over you when his soft brown eyes met your’s. His expression was meaningful and you could tell that he wasn’t giving you moot.

“Alright. It honestly just feels a little better finally telling someone.” You whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. John hummed, sending a buzz through your body.

“Anytime you need to talk about anything. I know I’m a bit of a dud but I’m all ears. And I’ll say it again, no one is going to lay a finger on you so long as I can help it.”

For the first time since you were attacked, you were able to relax. John was safe, he was your safety and your comfort. You could trust him not to hurt you or let anyone else hurt you, even when the two of you were constantly in the spotlight.

“I love you, John.”

It was going to be a long and difficult road to recovering from what happened, if you ever did actually recover. You had been badly hurt and scarred. But so long as you had John by your side, then you would be okay.

“I love you too, (yn). More than anything.”

It will be okay.

#tw: rape #this was really hard to write at first but im so glad that i did #thank you all for reading and please feel free to reach out if youre going through this #john lennon x reader #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #john #beatle belle #john lennon

123 notes · View notes

drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday (pt 2)

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was October thirteenth.

Luz’s first birthday without her mother.

She hadn’t told anyone what today was. She had mentioned it before, during the summer. But Eda and King weren’t known to be the best at remembering something so small from a single conversation.

They were already worried about her, it would only make things worse to remind them.

She saw the worried glances Eda and King gave her. Even Lilith looked concerned. Luz assured them she was fine before she holed up back in the library and, later, her room. Which she had made into makeshift into a study area.

Just because it was her birthday didn’t mean she had to stop trying. Even if it was her quinceañera.

‘Mamá must be worried.’ Her mind murmured.

‘She probably thinks you ran away.’ Added a snicker from the back of her mind. ‘She must think you hate her.’

Luz shook her head and hunched back over her papers. This wasn’t the time to mope and worry. This was the time for research! Even the words ran off the pages and her mind kept wandering.

‘You shouldn’t have gone through that door.’ Her thoughts spoke up again. ‘How bad could a reality check camp be, really? Would you really rather spend an eternity here, where your madre will never know if you're alive or dead?’

“Will you be quiet?” Luz snapped to no one.

‘Look at you,’ Her mind sneered back. ‘Talking to yourself. Maybe you did need that summer camp.’

Luz groaned and thunked her head on her desk, hands collapsing behind her neck. How was she supposed to work under these conditions?

She should’ve asked Gus to research with her. Out of all her friends, he was by far the most willing to spend all-nighters reading and searching for anything human. Any single link to the human realm.

This wasn’t to say Willow and Amity didn’t help her. They did, plenty of times. But it was always Gus she could call at two in the morning and ask to travel with her to some long-forgotten ruin on the slim chance it had even a sentence of human language on its stones. Amity was definitely a close second.

Everyone had tried. Even before the summer was over they had tried. Luz still beat herself up about not searching harder when she didn’t have to worry about her madre thinking she was lost somewhere. Every day that ticked by didn’t seem to bring her any closer to making it home.

The first week when summer vacation was over was horrible. Luz barely got any sleep and practically tore the library apart looking for any book on the human realm. She had crashed on the fifth day and slept all of the sixth. While she slept, her friends had taken up researching for her. Even Eda and King. Well, King tried. He couldn’t read all that well, but Lilith was happy to help.

Luz tried to at least get a few hours of sleep each day now. She still had bags under her eyes and her footsteps still dragged, but at least she wasn’t about to collapse anymore.

‘Mamá would tell you to go to sleep.’

Luz lifted her head and looked towards the window. It had originally been a hole in the wall courtesy of one of her recent adventures, so Eda had turned it into a wonky window instead of bothering to fix it up.

It was dusk. How had time gone by so fast?

Luz dug around in her desk for her glyphs and pulled out her light spell. She tapped the paper and it transformed into a small ball of light. She let it float next to her for a moment, simply watching it.

“She would like this spell.” Luz said to herself. “It doesn’t cost any bills to keep up.”

She almost laughed at her own joke. Almost.

‘Yeah, like she’d be proud of anything you did here.’

Luz sighed and turned back to the pages spread out before her. She stared blankly for a few moments, repeatedly telling herself to focus and failing to do so.

Then her bedroom door slammed open.

“LUZ!” King cried.

Luz yelped and shot backwards, tumbling out of her chair and hitting the wooden floor.

King winced and scurried over to where she lay, giving her a nervous look.

“Eh heh, sorry…”

“King! Don’t scare me like that!” Luz scolded, sitting up and rubbing her head.

“Sorry, but it’s important!” King said, waving his little arms. “Come on, come on!”

“Is something wrong?” Luz worried, standing up as King tugged on her cape.

“Well, no,” King said, still pulling her out of her room. “But it’s still important!”

Luz, more confused than ever, followed King as he finally let go of her cape and scampered down the stairs, practically shaking with excitement.

A part of Luz was expecting some prank he and Hooty had concocted. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them these days.

Luz wandered down the stairs as King skittered towards the living room. She heard murmuring and frowned, slowing her steps until she was right by the doorway and peeked her head in, one hand resting on the doorframe.

Willow, Gus and Amity were sitting on the floor around the couch. They had pushed a table up in front of it. A cake sat on the table, and Amity was currently trying to stick in a candle shaped like a five next to the one shaped like a one, though was clearly having trouble as the candle was made of something very squirmy and kept shifting into something that looked more like a weird S.

Gus was trying to help contain the candle as Willow looked on with concern, holding a small square lidded box in her lap.

Eda and Lilith were sitting on the couch directing Gus and Amity with little success. As Lilith was also dealing with Hooty continuously bugging her with questions or whatever he ate outside that day.

King had just arrived and was now climbing onto the table, promptly freaking out everyone else who clearly didn’t expect him to be back so soon.

“Guys…?” Luz blinked, taking a step into the room.

Everyone's heads whirled around to her, none of them having expected her to make it downstairs faster than they anticipated.

Hooty, as per usual, was the first to break the silence.

“Hi, Luz!” He greeted. “We made a cake!”

“You didn’t do anything!” Lilith snapped. “All you did was be a lookout. A very lousy one, at that!”

“Hey! I deserve credit for doing something!”

“What...is all this?” Luz asked, deciding it was better to cut in before Lilith and Hooty started arguing again.

“What does it look like, kid?” Eda snorted, snatching the five candle from Amity and sharply sticking it into the cake, making it lopsided and causing clear distress to Amity’s OCD.

“This is what human birthdays look like, right?” Gus worried, sitting upright and putting his hands on the table. “Was there supposed to be streamers? I knew we should’ve gotten streamers,” He grumbled.

“No, no, it’s just…” Luz looked over everyone before her eyes landed on Eda and King, who had hopped onto the couch beside her.

“You...remembered?” She asked quietly.

“Of course we did! The King of Demons never forgets!” King said proudly.

“Yesterday you forgot that you drank your own apple blood and threw a fit because you thought someone else drank it.” Amity deadpanned.

“That was one time!”

“Happy birthday, Luz.” Willow said, gesturing for her to sit down and setting the small box on the table.

Luz slowly walked towards the table, sitting on her knees at the end of the table. Still stunned, she slid the gift closer to her and pulled off the lid.

Inside it was a book. It was dark blue with golden lining along the edges. It’s title in gold cursive read; Glyph Spells & Other Written Magic .

“Thought you could use one of those,” Willow said casually. “Since you’ve got your own students to teach now.”

“We all pitched in for it,” Eda said gleefully.

Amity gave the witch a very pointed glare. One that Eda sighed in response to.

“Alright, we all pitched in to look for it. Little Miss Rich over here paid for it.” She relented, pointing a thumb towards the girl.

“I tasted it!” Hooty added happily. “It tastes like old dust and death.”

Luz carefully lifted the book out of the box. It seemed like well-kept book. Though the frantic scratches among the cover here and there proved that it had likely been quickly cleaned before placed in the box. The pages were yellow and crinkled, and there was the occasional stain or tear. But overall, it wasn’t unreadable.

“Do you…” Amity swallowed. “Like it?”

Luz kept her eyes on the book for a few quiet seconds. She pulled the book close to her chest and lifted her head, trying and failing to fight back the tears welling in her eyes.

“I love it.” She said hoarsely, a wide smile stretched across her face.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging.

“Does this mean we can have cake now?” King asked, impatiently tugging on Eda’s dress. “I’m starving!”

“Nope!” Hooty chirped, his head popped up beside Luz and startled her. “It’s group hug time!”

“Wait, wait, Hooty NO--!”

Hooty was faster than any of them could react and wrapped around them all, pulling them into a tight ball with Luz squished in the middle.

“A little more warning next time?” Gus wheezed from where he was currently being suffocated by the insistent bird tube.

“The cake!” Willow exclaimed.

Everyone craned their necks downwards towards the table.

Sure enough, amongst the struggle to get everyone in a circle, the cake had been knocked off the table and onto the floor, completely smashed against the carpet.

Everyone stared at it for a few moments.

“Floor cake!” King exclaimed. “The best kind of food!”

Nobody knew who laughed first, but it wasn’t long before everyone had smiles on their faces. Now, it didn’t seem to matter how human they made her party.

“Thanks, guys.” Luz said once she’d calmed down. “I...I think I needed this.”

“Any time, Luz.” Eda smiled.

Luz giggled and looked towards the stained windows of the Owl House. She could already hear Lilith and King arguing with Hooty again, probably to put them down, but it was tuned out.

The sky was completely dark now. And though the sky back home looked different than in the Boiling Isles, Luz couldn’t help but wonder if her mom was looking up at the stars, too.

She glanced back to her friends, still not processing any of the arguments or conversations they were having as they tried to free themselves from Hooty.

Yeah, she’d be okay.

Luz smiled and relaxed. Even if her mom didn’t know where she was, Luz could at least rest assured that she’d make it home, eventually. And she’d have real friends helping her out.

‘Keep that light on until I get there, mamá.’ She silently asked.

‘Te veré pronto.’

60 notes · View notes

corpse--diem · 3 years

Text

Snick Snack Paddy Whack | Ben & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professorbcampbell & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Erin pays a visit to an old high school acquaintance. Some crushes die hard. So do snicker-snackers. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

Morgan’s classroom was empty when she arrived, save for the few students that lingered after her afternoon lecture. Her things were still at the desk, meaning her undead friend was here somewhere, likely having stepped out for a few minutes. “You don’t know where Professor Beck went, by any chance?” Erin asked one of the girls who was leaving as she lingered in the doorway.

“I think she mentioned something about grabbing some materials from the library?” The student shrugged, nothing but nonplussed in her demeanor.

Perfect. Not that she didn’t want to see her friend but it was just enough time to slip out unnoticed. Erin nodded her thanks and set the tupperware container and note on her desk. She hadn’t planned on staying long regardless but she wasn’t about to use Morgan without at least leaving a brainy treat behind as quiet thanks (even if she didn’t know it). “Can you tell me where Professor Campbell’s classroom is?”

The young woman’s directions led her down a short walk through the campus. It was hard to tell if class was clearing out or just starting by the thin trickle of students moving in and out of the room but Erin’s eyes could only focus on one thing. Ben Campbell. Suddenly, she was fifteen again, knees weak and tongue heavy in her mouth while her brain struggled to catch up around her. This was dumb. Without much more than her job to occupy her these days, her free time was abundant and curiosity (and other things) had led her to this doorway. This was about as far as her planning had gotten her. When she realized she’d been standing in the doorway far too long, watching some of the last few students reluctantly leave themselves, she cleared her throat and slapped on what she prayed was a less awkward smile. “Ben? Ben Campbell? Is that you?”

“Alright, that about wraps it up for today. Excellent discussion, I highly recommend bringing some of the topics we discussed into your essays. Remember, drafts are due in a week and a half. Have a good one.” Ben said with a nod and a smile. A few of his more studious pupils remained and he answered their questions patiently, but as he glanced around the lecture hall, he realized there was an unexpected guest in the back of the room. A woman, somewhat familiar-- he couldn’t quite place her. As he dismissed the last few curious students, he slid his hands into the pockets of his pressed dress pants and smiled, “That I am. And,” As he neared her, Ben realized just why she looked familiar. Erin. Nichols. Of the failed funeral home. They’d been talking recently, after he’d returned from his brief break off social media. “Erin! It’s good to see you. What brings you to campus?” He asked, intrigued.

He remembered her? Erin’s expression perked up, even if she hated that she realized Ben Campbell simply acknowledging her had that effect on her. “It’s good to see you too,” she grinned, taking a few bold steps into the room. When was the last time she’d seen him properly? It was a small town, and on the occasion they inevitably bumped into one another or cast a glance at community gatherings. She became painfully aware she’d never been alone in a room with him until just now. “I was just visiting Morgan--Morgan Beck. She’s a good friend of mine. I was on my way back to work before I remembered you guys taught in the same department.” She cringed internally at herself for the thousandth time. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to pop by and say hi, if you weren’t busy.” She stiffened and glanced around at the emptying lecture hall. “You’re not busy, I hope?”

Pulling his glasses free, Ben listened to her as he tucked them back into the soft case and blinked as though the transition was a bit of a strain on his eyes. But, it was a gesture, just as most of what he did was. He didn’t need glasses, there wasn’t even a prescription on the lenses. It just helped him look the part. And that was what he was doing, after all. Playing the part. At the mention of Morgan Beck, Ben kept his expression neutral, though inside a hint of irritation boiled up. Bitchy fucking Beck. That woman was such a pain. “Ah, yes! Yes, she’s an adjunct with the department, but we’ve interacted at meetings and such. Wonderful woman, excellent teacher from what I’ve heard.” Well suited for all of those budding future writers/baristas, he thought privately. “How did you know I taught for the department, though? I don’t remember mentioning what courses I taught.” He asked, though as he watched the way she seemed to brighten up and look at him, he had a feeling he knew the answer. “Oh no, not at all. This was my last class of the day.”

Erin stared longer than what was probably socially acceptable as Ben made a small show of removing his glasses. Part of her wondered if it was intentional, and another part of her would normally be rolling her eyes, but the part of her brain that had reverted back to 2003 really didn’t care. “Oh yeah, she’s brilliant. Just don’t ask too many questions if you don’t have an hour to spare,” Erin teased lightly, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes flitting anxiously from Ben to different areas of the room. Fuck. She really should have thought this through a little more. She could plot the demise of an evil crime lord but she couldn’t fucking figure out how to talk to Benjamin Campbell. It was quiet for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was her anxiety clawing at the walls of her mind or actually scratching, but she moved on without much though. “I just… guessed,” she fumbled for a moment, shrugging nonchalantly. “Morgan said you worked with her so I figured you were all somewhere in the same realm.” She took a long breath and found her feet moving more confidently towards Ben. “Oh, good,” she smiled again, tilting her head. “So that means I can bother you for as long as I’d like now, right?”

Watching the way she looked from him to the room and back to him, Ben couldn’t help but smile. Oh, she must have been one of those girls in high school. He didn’t remember her much, but through a little bit of browsing on Facebook and the town’s messageboard system, he’d been able to pick up on some things. He hadn’t been lying when he mentioned that he had gone to basketball games-- he had, mostly because it had been a good place to build a good rapport with some of his classmates, get them to trust him, that sort of thing. But, he hadn’t remembered her much. She was just another face in the crowd. But, it seemed she had been one of the girls who’d been rather smitten by him and had managed to escape him before graduation. With a laugh, he nodded, “I can understand that. Get me started on Roman architecture and I can do the exact same thing.” He replied, though it pained him to even draw the most minute comparison between himself and Beck. “Well, what a lucky guess for me.” Ben said with a grin as she approached him. “By all means, bother away.” He said as he retrieved his attache case from where it sat by the lectern.

Just as he was about to turn his attention back to Erin, a flicker of motion flashed in the corner of his eye. Ben frowned, his forehead creasing as he stared at a spot in the wall of the lecture hall. He could have sworn that-- “Did you happen to see something over there?” Ben asked, pointing to the spot where he could see something moving inside the wall.

God, with everything in her, Erin prayed she didn’t look nearly as aloof as she felt right now. This trip had probably been a mistake. She should’ve waited around for Morgan to return, chat with her friend over the deviled cow brain eggs she’d made her, and went on her way rather than feed the flame to some schoolgirl crush she had over twenty years ago. She had way too much time on her hands lately, and the shy, excited grin that followed his words did nothing but prove any of that right. “Lucky for the both of us, honestly,” she agreed with a tilt of her head. She’d just rested against the side of a nearby table when his attention perked forward. God damn it. Her eyes eventually moved from the concentrated look on his face to the source of the scratching. She heard it. Saw it too, when the paint cracked along the spot of the wall. “What the--” she started, standing at alert now. “I see that, yeah,” she answered, wondering if this was a sign she should’ve just. Stayed. Home. Despite her better instincts, she was moving towards it, curiosity peaked. The scratching and rustling grew louder and louder. Something--many somethings--were rushing through the wall. The wall groaned and creaked as she timidly approached it, gesturing with a hand for him to follow. “Shit, it sounds like you have a whole herd living here. You might want to call some--” A furry brown spot whizzed by her feet and she yelped, startling backwards with little grace. “Oh fuck no. Nope. This was--I gotta go.”

As Ben continued to stare at the wall with confusion, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on here. He prided himself in knowing this university-- this town even-- like the back of his hand. It was his domain, how dare something infringe upon his space. “A herd?” He asked. For a moment, he opened his mouth to correct her. A herd was a term typically used for large, four legged creatures; this was more like a pack or perhaps a mischief. But, before he could, the aforementioned mischief made itself known by hurtling out of a crack in the wall. First one, then another, and another. Until there was suddenly a crumbling, gaping hole in the plaster. “What in the--” Ben said, jumping back with a start. He held his case tightly in his hand and smacked at one of the furry brown animals that skittered towards him. The tiny ratlike thing bounced off the side of his leather bag and hit the wall, though at least a dozen more poured out of the ever-widening gap. “Oh my Lord.” He muttered as he watched his lecture hall begin to fill with a mass of furry, squeaking rodents. “Yes, running-- running seems wise.” He said before stumbling backwards. As he moved, one of the panels in the floor gave way underneath his shoe and Ben let out a loud curse. “What are these things?”

The thunderous sound of what looked like hundreds of tiny, skittering creatures pouring into the lecture hall overwhelmed the room. Erin wanted to say rats but they didn’t fit the typical description. Rats didn’t have horns. They swarmed by her feet, despite how quickly she was trying to get away, and she found out after her high heels cracked underneath her, these things also had strong, quick teeth. Her heels were gnawed to ribbons and she abandoned the shoes completely, grumbling curses in her panic. “Are you okay?” she shouted above the noise, watching him struggle on her way towards the door. The impact of whatever the hell these things were was clear as every wooden thing they touched started to give way. The door to the lecture hall opened. The early, unsuspecting student’s eyes were glued to his phone until one of the rodents dropped from the ceiling, sending him flying back out of the room. Her jaw set tightly as they rushed by her feet, the little pricks of sharp teeth nipping at her ankles. She jumped up onto one of the metal legged tables circling the room, using what was left of her shoe to push the creatures back. It took about one swift, hard smack but they met bloody ends as easily as they came. She looked back at the stairs, the floors completely covered in a mass of moving fur, then at the desks leading back up towards the door. “Looks like we’re climbing,” she glanced back at him, squashing another one as it came towards her, blood squirting out from under her shoe from all sides.

Waving his case back and forth around him, Ben grimaced as blood splattered across the polished leather. He could handle blood on his suit, that wasn’t a problem. But this was Italian leather. Glancing up at Erin, he saw that she was handling herself just as well as he was. Other than the fact she didn’t have her foot stuck halfway through the floor. With a grunt, Ben lashed out with his case, clearing a small patch of floor for him to pull himself up. As he did so, he could feel teeth latching onto his legs, his hands, his arms. “Vermin!” He spat, shaking them off as he hurried towards the door. “Oh, I’m doing just fine.” He said over the chittering, squeaking sounds around them. When his Lord Hrvsht’ooooor rose to the earth, Ben would have to make a note of these particular nuisances. At Erin’s words, he caught her meaning. “So it would seem.” He said before jumping up on top of the desk. Blood and matted fur covered the soles of his shoes as he did his best to climb after her, his arms and legs stinging from the bite marks. “Awful, vile little cretins.” He muttered as they hurried up towards the exit. So close, but so, so far.

Erin probably should have helped him out of the hole but with no shoes and nothing really to protect herself, handsome or not, the guy was one his own. Thankfully he took her cue and followed behind her, and as she used his to steady herself, she internally grumbled about dressing up as she hiked her dress up and leapt from one row of desks to another. Whatever these things were, they weren’t rats. They weren’t anything anyone was going to find in a textbook somewhere in this university. Just another White Crest brand of things that shouldn’t exist but do, huh? As far as she could tell, these things weren’t trying to kill them. Nibbling nuisances for sure but by the sheer amount of them, they’d have been gnawed down to the bone by now if that was the case. She hoped, anyway. But there it was--the exit. The door was cracked open, enough to allow a small trickle of them to slip out and into the hallways, but it had kept them mostly inside. A river of rodents flowed through the aisle between them. The final barrier between them and their way out. She groaned loudly. “Of fucking course.” She glanced down at Ben’s shoes, tattered and bloodstained, grabbing onto his very muscular arm and pulled what was left of her heels back onto her feet. “I’m going to be sending the university a strongly worded letter after this, I hope you know,” she tried to joke but much of the humor in her laugh was pure annoyance. She raised a brow. “We’ll jump on 3?”

Jumping from desk to desk, Ben left a trail of blood and fur behind him as he continued to stomp and smack at the vicious little creatures that seemed to be hell-bent on eating their way through the room. Kicking another out of the way, he watched as the horned rat creature careened through the air and back into the writhing swarm. As he and Erin converged on the last desk, he held still for her to catch hold of his arm. Irritating, honestly, the way she was clinging to him, but he didn’t think there was anything for it. “You know, I’d be happy to sign off on that. Give some credence,” He paused, smacking another rat creature away, “what with being faculty and all.” With a nod, Ben counted, “One, two, three.” With that, he leaped forward and made a mad dash towards the door, pulling Erin along with him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Erin nodded with a huff. Most of her attention was fixed on what path to take when they hit 3. There wasn’t a good answer there. She’d never seen an infestation like this--there was more horned rodents than carpet visible, and when they leapt, floor and bone alike crunched beneath their feet, blood splashing up at their ankles. But they’d done it--they were spilling out into the hallway and Erin slammed her shoulder up against the door with some effort, the final shrieks of those rat-like creatures meeting their end as the door shut on them. Futile, probably. They had burrowed through walls and floors alike. A door wouldn’t stop them, but it kept some distance between her and them temporarily. She didn’t stop moving, even as her lungs heaved for breath, broken shoes clacking down the empty hallway. A few still scurried by their feet, scaring off unsuspecting students and faculty. Glancing back only to see if Ben was following her, swiping at her arms and legs as if they were still crawling along her skin. “Still in one piece?” she asked, noticing his once polished demeanor was a little more moth-bitten bargain bin chic than before. Not that she had much room to talk. She shook her head, stopping only when they’d put some distance between them and the lecture hall. “What the fuck were those things?”

As soon as they were in the hallway, Ben fumbled with his key and locked the door in a futile effort to keep those things at bay. He knew it wouldn’t help, they’d emerged from the walls, for goodness sake. But it was better than having the plague of furry, ravenous beasts coming after them. Erin was already running down the hallway and he ran to catch up with her, blood squelching under his shoes and his curly hair falling in his face. Tilting his head down a corridor, he replied, “I think so. I wish I could say the same for my case.” He said, looking down at the raggedly bitten corner of his bag. “Are you alright?” He asked, remembering that he should probably pretend to care about her well being. He gave her a once over-- she seemed to be in better shape than him, less bitten if only because she hadn’t gotten stuck in the floor. “I haven’t the slightest idea. I’ve never seen anything like that before.” He said with a baffled expression on his face. “Have you?” He asked, curious. She’d reacted… rather well, all things considered.

Erin had never seen anything like that exactly, though comparatively, they were practically harmless to the more gruesome things she had gone up against. She probably should have looked more upset or bewildered than what Ben was surely expecting but she was just--pissed. It was no secret that this town or the mysteries of it were getting to her. Not that Ben was privy to any of that information, or deserved any of the anger it brought up. “No,” she shook her head, resting her back against a wall, letting the coolness of the brick calm her frustrations. Deep breaths helped too. “I mean, I’m fine. My shoes? Not so much, but otherwise--no, I’ve never seen a rat look like that before,” she answered and shook her head, shook her head, reaching down to inspect the damage. The heels had been chewed down to nubs. Great. She tossed them into the trash bin beside her once she decided they’d be more of a hindrance on her way to the car than a help. “If you’re good, I’m gonna go shower for about a thousand hours now and pray I didn’t just catch twenty new variations of rabies.” She ran a hand through her hair, pushing off the wall, debating on whether or not to stop by Morgan’s classroom again or just tuck her tail between her legs and run home. She paused for a moment in the hall, that last trickle of hope layered in with maybe a trace of teenage desperation still coursing alongside the adrenaline in her veins. “Raincheck on the whole me bothering you thing? Maybe?” She raised an eyebrow, cringing slightly even as she said it.

There was a strange expression on Erin’s face, one Ben was annoyed that he couldn’t quite read. She hadn’t reacted as poorly as some of the students he’d introduced to the darker side of this world had, and he’d always started off small. No sense in putting their fragile minds before the full might of his Lord when they could barely handle a caged brownie. Erin had reacted in a similar way to him-- attack and then flee when it became clear it was a losing battle. Wiping at a streak of blood that ran down his chin, Ben nodded and watched her toss her shoes away. “Pity about the outfit, it suited you. Before, well,” He gestured to his own ragged suit, the hem of his pants in tatters. “All of that.” With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to set it back in place, but brown locks hung limply against his forehead. “That sounds like an excellent idea, I’d best do the same.” Ben said. At her last words, though, he couldn’t help but smile. So she was still interested in him, hm? Intriguing. He’d love to pick her brain, see just how much she really knew. Pulling out a pen from his pocket, Ben reached for her hand gently and wrote his number on her palm. “Call me sometime. Perhaps over coffee, next time.” He said with a chuckle.

Erin froze in her spot when he came closer. Why was he coming closer? Her face flushed red when he took her hand and for a moment she completely forgot where she was--forgot they’d just run from a stampede of supernatural looking rats, or that she wasn’t even wearing shoes or that her feet and ankles were bleeding all over the university hallways. Something hideously close to a giggle erupted from her as he etched the numbers into her skin. Oh, he was definitely smooth. Her? Not so much. “Coffee, yeah.” She cleared her throat, trying to stop the frantic static waves in her brain from cutting off her ability to speak. “I’ll do that.” She managed those three words with more of a struggle than she’d ever admit. Another giggle-like laugh slipped from her throat and she wanted to stab herself in the eye with that very pen. Damn it. He knew. There was no way he didn’t. She didn’t trust herself with words anymore at this point, instead opting to give a small wave as she backtracked out of the hallway. Gave a quiet yelp and hurried apology as she nearly smacked right into a student on their way to class, before booking it the hell out of there.

#chatzy #chatzy: ben #snick snack paddy whack #wickedswriting

8 notes · View notes

echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XXXIII

Defeating the iseultalon daemon and the eternal troopers, the group saw the road was blocked off due to a large pile of debris. Prompto looked from one side of the street to the other. "Not makin' it through here."

"Think there's any other way around?" Gladio asked.

"We might want to head...under."

(Y/n), who was still in her spiritual form, meandered down the side street the iseultalon daemon and eternal troopers came from. In the distance, she saw the entrance to the subway. Once sensing the men were following her, she proceeded carefully.

Their peaceful moment in the ruins of Insomnia was spoiled when an ariadne manifested alongside some tarantulas. With the enemies too close for comfort near the entrance to the subway, they had no choice but to fight. While the boys focused on the larger daemon, the spirit used her fire magic to burn the tarantulas skittering across the ground. Now that the smaller enemies were dead, she looked up at the ariadne and leapt towards it after it used its own lightning spell. Using her fire breath, she set the daemon ablaze. Prompto slid in and fired a few rounds, siphoning the last of its life.

(Y/n) rolled her shoulders after reverting back to being human. There was no way her spiritual form would be able to wedge through the entrance to the underground subway platform. Following Noctis, they walk down the stairs and wander through the empty station.

Prompto's eyes bounced around, taking in the condition of the white-tiled walls and floor. It was pristine, but some areas were slowly crumbling. "It's worn down, but still the same."

"Just like I remember," Gladio commented.

"Always came in handy," Ignis stated.

(Y/n) looked around with a glint of astonishment in her golden eyes. "So this is the subway, huh...?"

"Only the main thoroughfare. The loading platforms branch off from here. There's tons of them. This place used to be filled with people. Let's see that it is again," Noctis chimed in.

"You're telling me you've lived here for most of your life and haven't been here at least once?" The shield asked out of bewilderment.

"Hey, I was busy with my job at the boutique. Mind you, it was only a fifteen minute walk from the apartment. I had no need to ride the subway," she said.

"I'm quite disappointed in you, Prompto," Ignis voices his thoughts.

"Wha-?" Prompto's jaw fell, his mouth agape at the advisor's words. "Why're you disappointed in me all of a sudden?"

"For not giving (Y/n) a proper tour of Insomnia to show her what all she's been missing."

"B-But..."

"It's fine," the girl interjected. "Like I said, I was busy with my job. I never really had the time to explore the city. I only really know the places Prompto and I regularly visited."

"Guess we'll have to give you a proper tour after all this is over," Gladio said.

"You guys still love bullying me," Prompto groaned.

Noctis smirked at his words as he pressed a button. The metal gate that barred them from proceeded lifted with a faint 'squeak' of the rusted gears. Making their way through the main thoroughfare of the subway station, they encountered a large group of eternal troopers and salpinxes. Seeing as there wasn't much room, (Y/n) opted to use the Creator's Blade instead of transforming. She and Ignis combined their fire attacks and wiped out many of the eternal troopers in one fell swoop. Noctis received assistance from Prompto, which was enough to kill all the salpinxes. Gladio dealt with the remaining few troopers before proceeding forward through the underground station.

At the end of the passageway, Noctis presses another button to raise the metal gate. They wandered down the hallway before walking up a flight of stairs and arriving back on the surface. It was the perfect shortcut for it led them directly to the other side of the pile of debris. Down the street was the secured entrance to the Citadel. There did prove to be one problem, which took on the appearance of a behemoth king.

With a smirk, (Y/n) ran past Noctis and charged at the creature. She transformed, ignoring the men when they shouted her name. Bounding towards the behemoth king, her entire body ignited with flames. She tackled the creature and sank her claws and teeth into its body, allowing her flame-engulfed form to wound it even further. The behemoth squirmed in pain underneath her as it roared.

Keeping it pinned with her weight, she allowed the men to attack without having to worry about it pouncing on them. Noctis and Gladio attacked the head while Prompto and Ignis focused on the hind legs. Thanks to (Y/n), the beast was already significantly wounded by the time they began attacking it.

Once the behemoth king was dead, the guardian reverted back to being human. She flexed her fingers, feeling and hearing a few of the joints popping. Noctis looked over at her. "Damn, (Y/n)..."

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

"For someone who's been asleep for ten years, you're not even the tiniest bit rusty," Gladio answered. "Looks to me like you've become even more powerful."

"I wouldn't say I'm more powerful. It's more along the lines of power that's built up inside my body over a long period of time. I've gotta vent some of this power or it could possibly harm by body."

"And you're using it before we're even at the citadel?" Prompto wondered.

"Oh, trust me. I've got plenty to spare." (Y/n) decided to tease the men. "But you guys... Don't even get me started."

"What?" The marksman gasped. "W-We're still badass! Hell, we haven't even reached our prime!"

"Mmm...I'm not so sure about that."

Prompto analyzed her face with narrowed eyes. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows."

Noctis pushed open the gates. The five walk past the security checkpoint and make their way to the courtyard located in front of the Citadel. At the base of the stairwell leading up to the grand structure stood Ardyn and Callyx. The guardian said nothing as the auburn-haired man held up his hand, smirking at the group. "Ifrit, the Infernian. He doesn't share the Glacian's fondness for mankind. But you can expect a...warm welcome. We shall await you above." He headed up the stairwell, entering the Citadel with Callyx as Ifrit appeared, sitting on a throne of his own creation.

The moment Noctis took a step towards the Astral, the god raised his hand and sent a powerful gust of flames towards him. The king's clothes were set ablaze as he fell over. He rolled on the ground in an attempt to snuff out the flames.

Prompto rushes over, gets down on his knees beside Noctis, and quickly pats out the flames with his hands. "Noct! Hang in there, buddy!" He was able to extinguish the flames from Noctis' attire. "Stay down. We'll keep him busy." Prompto rejoins the battle.

Noctis gets back to his feet. Ignis, who was kneeling behind cover near Ifrit's throne, called out to him. "Noct! Over here!" The king begins to walk toward his advisor, but is moving slowly due to his wounds. "Quickly, before he strikes again!" The strategist shouted.

Suddenly, Noctis is tackled from behind by Gladio and pulled into cover where Ignis is. Prompto joins the other three within a second, but that's when he noticed one of them was missing. "Wait, where's (Y/n)?" Looking around, he saw the guardian calmly approaching Ifrit. "(Y/n)! Hurry!"

She said nothing nor even glanced in his direction as the god prepares his second attack. When he went to run out of cover to grab her, Ifrit released a second wave of flames. The four men huddled closer together as the heat seared their skin. (Y/n) felt the flames touch her skin, but she was unharmed. Her eyes radiated with a brilliant golden glow as she smirked. "Let's have some fun." Summoning the Creator's Blade, she attacked the Astral.

Prompto, after seeing she was unharmed and fighting against Ifrit, emerged from cover while shouting to his best friend, "Got your back!" Gladio also broke from cover and joined the fray.

Ignis stands and holds out a curative item to heal Noctis. "Here you go."

The king rises once more and continues the charge alongside his friends. "Let's go!"

The five attacked the god, who didn't budge from his throne. He simply sat their, smirking in amusement at their attempt to fight against him. When Noctis performed a warp-strike, Ifrit easily grabbed him in one hand and squeezed his body. Before the Astral could do any major damage to Noctis, (Y/n) used her sword to slice at his arm. The god dropped the king and tried to grab the spirit, but she was nimble and quick. Leaping out of the god's reach, she regained her bearings. Her plan to attack, however, was thrown offtrack when Noctis summoned Bahamut. He tackled her out of harm's way when one of the Draconian's large swords pierced the ground near Ifrit's fiery throne.

The two watch as Bahamut flew through the sky before coming to a halt above the Citadel. Summoning an array of swords that brilliantly radiated, he aimed them at Ifrit. The Infernian leapt from his throne with his weapon in hand, dodging the large swords as they rained down upon him. As the last one struck the ground, Ifrit spun around with his sword raised and blocked Bahamut as he swooped down to attack.

Noctis, as his eyes met Bahamut's, nodded and summoned his sword. He warped above the Infernian and swung his blade at the distracted god. He struck him as the Draconian vanished. Ifrit's sword fell from his hand as he collapsed to his knees, body engulfed in flames. The king landed behind him as (Y/n), Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis rejoined the battle. They lowered their weapons, but quickly raised them when the Infernian grabbed his sword and got back to his feet.

"So even that wasn't enough?" Gladio growled.

"It's taken a turn for the worse," Ignis said.

"Out of the frying pan, dot, dot, dot?" Prompto muttered.

"We need to put this thing out!" Noctis bellowed. "(Y/n)!"

"Yeah?" The guardian spoke up after hearing her name.

"You're the only one who can withstand the heat. Think you could help with my plan?"

She smirked. "Definitely. What do you need me to do?"

"Knock him off his feet."

"I think I can do a little more than that." Transforming, she jumped around Ifrit as Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis fought against him. Once she was able to find the perfect opportunity, the fox tackled the god to the ground and used her tails to wrap them around his wrists and ankles. She dug her claws into his chest, using her weight to pin him to the ground.

The men rushed in with their weapons, dealing blow after blow. They were able to weaken Ifrit, who was struggling to free himself from (Y/n). He couldn't even swing his sword to attack anyone.

After some more struggling, the Infernian was able to free one of his wrists. He grabbed the fox, tossed her aside, and stood up. He swung his blade, knocking the men away. (Y/n)'s body skidded across the ground before coming to a halt a few feet away from her companions. She could feel the pain from the Infernian's grasp and her tumble against the hard asphalt. Ignis tossed a potion her way once she was back on her feet. She caught the vial in her mouth, crushing it and instantly feeling relief as her wounds healed.

As the guardian leapt back into the battle, Ifrit grabbed Noctis and tossed his body into the air. The god teleported to the king and swung his blade at him. Stunned, the king took the brunt of the attack as his body was sent hurtling towards the ground. Before he could slam against the asphalt, (Y/n) jumped up into the air and caught him on her back.

Ifrit, angered over her interference, teleported back to the ground and targeted the fox. He swung his sword wildly in an attempt to strike the guardian. Noctis, who was still on her back, held on tightly to the fur on the nape of her neck as she dodged the god's attacks.

Using her tails as whips, the fox was able to knock the Infernian away and towards Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio. The three attacked Ifrit while Noctis tried to devise a plan. As he slid off the spirit's back, he heard Shiva speak to him. At her voice, he summoned the Glacian. Gentiana appeared, smiling as she walked past him and transformed into Shiva. The entire courtyard and surrounding area became frozen over with a thick layer of ice. The goddess, with her many duplicates, glided through the air before surrounding Noctis. Eyes turned to Ifirt, Shiva formed a vortex of glacial winds that froze the god as he charged froward with his sword raised.

Now encased in ice, Ifrit was petrified. Shiva floated towards the Infernian and kissed his bottom lip as the icy winds of the vortex began to fade. From her kiss, Ifrit's frozen body shattered. "Rest, my love. May your soul know peace at last." She then flew off, leaving Noctis with one final message. "King of Kings, the grace of the gods is with you always."

Noctis stared up at the sky in the direction Shiva took off. "I made a promise...one that I intend to keep."

(Y/n) changed forms, placing a hand over her chest when she felt Brahma's emotional turmoil for Ifrit's defeat. She wasn't sure what bond he shared with the Infernian, but it caused the god to feel sorrow. Prompto was the first to notice her conflicted expression and jogged over. He placed a hand on her shoulder, peering into her face worriedly. "You're not hurt, are you, (Y/n)?"

She lifted her head, shaking it. "No, I'm fine. Sorry for worrying you."

"It's Brahma, isn't it?" Noctis asked as he, Gladio, and Ignis joined the couple.

"Yeah. I'm not familiar with his relationships with the other Astrals, but with Ifrit..." She curled her hand up into a fist. "I've a feeling they were close before he turned his back on humanity."

"Worry about that later," Gladio said. "We've still got two creeps to get rid of."

(Y/n) lowered her hand. "Oh, no. Callyx is all mine. You four can have fun with Ardyn. Besides, I've got a god who's pissed off at him and can't wait to give him a piece of his mind."

The group, with their minds resolved, headed up the stairwell leading to the entrance of the Citadel. Noctis pushes open the doors, allowing them inside.

"At long last, the Citadel," Ignis said as they entered the building.

"The throne is just up ahead," Noctis stated, walking through the lobby and towards the elevator.

Prompto looked around the room and noticed the illumination from the lights. "It's all lit up."

"Guess they're expecting company," Gladio commented.

"They want this as bad as we do," the king remarked.

"They're not going to win. We'll make sure of that," (Y/n) chimed in.

"We'll get our home back."

Once entering the rear hallway where the elevator was located, Gladio asked, "Think the elevator's workin'?"

Prompto presses the button and summons the lift. When hearing the familiar 'clink,' he was surprised. "Huh... Sure looks like it."

"They are really taking us by the hand," Ignis said.

"It's no fun waiting for your guests if they have to trek up countless number of stairs," (Y/n) huffed out a faint chuckle.

"It'll save our legs the walk up," Noctis stated as they all entered the elevator.

Riding the elevator up, the five were silent until the shield sliced through the tense atmosphere with his baritone voice. "The throne room...waits outside."

"Yeah... And so does Ardyn and Callyx," Prompto added.

"Acting like they own the place," he sneered.

"It's time to take it all back," Ignis said.

"It ends here. Tonight," Noctis declared.

(Y/n)'s golden eyes glanced around at the faces of the men. She leaned against the marbled wall of the elevator, crossing her arms. She had yet to share the ace she had hidden up her sleeve, but thought it would be best to keep it a secret until the time was right.

Stepping off the lift, the group wandered down the hall towards the room located outside the throne room.

"Remember how nervous we were in front of King Regis the day we left?" Gladio asked as he reminisced in an old, fond memory.

"That was the last time we were in here," Ignis pointed out.

"Yeah. They even let me in that day," Prompto said.

"Feels like forever ago," Noctis commented.

"Sorry, but I wasn't a part of that memory," (Y/n) sighed.

"No, but we've made plenty of happy ones with you during our travels," Gladio said.

"Indeed," Ignis agreed.

"Yeah," Noctis replied. "Prompto should've introduced you to us sooner."

"Hey!" The sharpshooter wailed. The others laughed at him before proceeding towards the throne room.

As Noctis and the others approach the double doors, Prompto hummed. "Hmm, not much farther."

"Well, shall we, Noct?" Ignis questioned.

Noctis begins to put his hand out toward the doors, then suddenly stops and turns around. "Yeah, but... Ah. Hold on a sec. Prompto. Can I see your photos?"

Prompto's eyes widen a fraction at the request. "Um...yeah!"

Noctis tried to smile, but he couldn't. "I just need one...to take with me."

The marksman's shocked expression was replaced with a dejected one. "Oh... Yeah. I get it. Um... You can take whichever you like."

The four men huddle together to examine the photographs one last time. (Y/n) decided to hang back while they perused the various pictures Prompto took during their journey. She lowered her head, waiting patiently for Noctis to pick one. When he chose one, he put it in his pocket. With the photo now safely stored, he walked towards the double doors. Before pushing them open, he inhaled and exhaled a deep sigh. "It's time..."

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist ||

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ffxv #ffxv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

6 notes · View notes