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thinkingoutlouddblog · 4 years ago

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butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of ��Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

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rayofsunas · 4 years ago

Text

baby daddy | kaeya [2]

A/n: so already, in the first five minutes of me beginning to write tumblr decided to delete stuff again, so that’s pretty swag ;-; but nonetheless, I’m alright lmao, I’ve been super happy this week ever since I pulled xiao AND mona after wanting to give up plsss. also, I can’t exactly remember if I gave Klara a age in the last part, so I would just like to clarify that she’s one lol. anyways, here’s part two and I hope you guys enjoy!! it took me four hours to write this

Summary: kaeya wants to set a good example for his children, naturally. so he’s given up a lot of things, one being his excessive drinking. but being a knight is hard, despite how nonchalant he seems and he finds himself slipping sometimes… when you find out about it, you’re less than happy and decide spending time with the children would be a good idea for him. he’s more than happy to spend time with the three little monsters, but, he never realized what a normal day was for you when taking care of them.

Parings: Kaeya/Fem! Reader

Warnings: children, fluff, reader and kaeya are mid 20s, alcohol, Klara and Katheryne are friends because I said so, stan Katheryne she helps us so much-

Word count: 2.3k

The sun was slowly but surely rising, leaving beautiful orange and yellow hues to paint the usually bright blue sky, and Kaeya couldn’t be happier. Unlike the last couple of days, he’d been able to wake up, eat a quiet breakfast with you before the kids woke up though he tried and successfully tried to flirt his way into your already claimed heart, and then when Klara woke up, he got the chance to contently feed the wailing little girl; something he shockingly missed.

Even if at that moment, the tears and cries were a lot more than he could handle, he was more than happy to do something too trivial, just because he was spending more time with her. And unlike the other days, he’d been able to take her for her morning walk, before he’d have to report to headquarters.

Most citizens were still asleep, though very few could be seen preparing for the days work, a few stall owners he noted, as he held Klara’s tiny chubby hand and helped her walk through the town, though she greatly seemed to like speed, already worlds ahead with her mobility.

“Slow down, my little Mist Flower.” She was moving as fast as her little legs could take her, straight towards Katheryne who sometimes gave the little girl trinkets, saying adventurers had brought back things they didn’t wish to keep or had no use for. Even if Klara couldn’t really speak, she knew little things, “Thank you” was one of them, so she was always grateful despite not knowing exactly what they were. And although Katheryne seemed to not be human, some sort of machine with a very robot-like tone, she also made sure to let little Klara know how happy she was to give the youngest Alberich little trinkets.

“Good morning, Katheryne.” Kaeya called, grinning when his daughter’s eyes widened at the mention of the kind receptionist. As the pair approached the young woman, Klara yanked on her father's white cloak, instructing him to lift her into his arms, so she could get a better look, and Katheryne, usually behind the tall wooden counter.

“Oh- good morning, Captain Kaeya!” The woman exclaimed, eyes lighting up when she saw the little girl she adored very much. “And little Klara, good morning.” She was happy to see the pair well, seeing as though she hadn’t seen Klara in days.

“Hi, Kat...” Klara whispered with a shy smile, Katheryne smiled even more because of the use of the nickname she’d been given.

She was just the most adorable little girl ever, Katheryne couldn’t help but think.

All three Alberich children were the sweetest, though obviously, Klara had a sweet place in her heart especially. Adrien was an identical copy of you, sarcastic, very stubborn, but very respectable for such a young age. And Elena was a smart cookie, a young girl who enjoyed questioning and correct everyone and everything that she came across. Lastly, little Klara, who had much growing to do was the pride and joy of the large Alberich family. Everyone adored her and she continuously swayed hearts wherever she went, just her cute curiosity alone was enough to bring a smile to even Wagner’s face, who typically seemed grumpy.

Katheryne felt very lucky to have met them in this lifetime, they were a gift from the Archons, truly. Everyone knew Katheryne as the Adventurer Guild's Receptionist but to Klara? She was Kat, a generous friend who gave her gifts.

Though a sad frown graced the young woman's lips, Kaeya ever so observantly caught on, something was wrong.

“I’m very saddened to say this, but I’m afraid there aren’t any new trinkets suitable enough for little Klara today...” Yes indeed was the receptionist saddened, evident by every feature on her face. “There’s been a shortage it seems of adventurers and travelers willing to take the commissions.” The brunette stated.

“Why is this?” The Cavalry Captain questioned, silently huffing when the one-year-old attached to his hip kept chewing on his white fur cloak, closest to his neck. Great, another issue added to the mix. Maybe she had begun teething again? Archons, Kaeya really felt as though he’d missed so much, seeing as though he couldn’t remember the last time his youngest daughter had teethed or even if she'd stopped entirely together. In short, he probably hadn’t been there for that either, courtesy of his position and job.

“From my understanding, there have been more hoards of monsters, and something about a mutation as well,” Noted Katheryne, watching as the curiosity built upon the man's features. “Would you like to take a few of the commissions? To show Acting Grand Master Jean?”

The part bout there being an abundance of monsters did sound familiar, he’d been hearing about that a lot recently, but mutated forms as well? That was new... He’d have to bring that up today at the briefing, maybe Jean would know more than he currently did.

“None of that will be necessary. I’m heading there now, after I drop Klara off back home, I’ll just forward the information to her personally.” Katheryne nodded, seemingly getting sidetracked and entranced by the bright violet-eyed toddler staring at her, with her father's white fur cloak still in her mouth.

Adorable.

She still couldn’t help but feel bad though. The only trinkets that had been brought back from any scarce, but recent missions were partially damaged swords waiting for Wagner to fix or scrap into new materials.

Such a thing did not belong in the hands of a child, nonetheless the ever so gentle Klara Alberich, she was too sweet for this world to be handed a complimentary sword, even if she had heard Kaeya say the countless amount of times that he wanted to eventually teach each of the children how to use a sword, preferring to start earlier, rather than later. And from Katheryne’s overheard? She now knew it had been somewhat of a topic of discussion between you and Kaeya, causing mini spouts of anger and frustration.

Archons, how she wishes she had something suitable to give the little girl...

Katheryne nervously fidgeted. “Oh and about the trinkets-”

The usual daily gifts Kaetheryne would give to Klara, were absent today. Due to one big factor; adventurers and travelers weren’t taking commissions, therefore, they weren’t bringing back what Katheryne saw as unique finds, but they claimed to have no use for.

“No worries,” He was more worried about the fact that adventurers weren’t taking commissions instead of the usual trinkets Katheryne would give his daughter, nonetheless he offered reassurance. It really was no big deal.

Kaeya indeed was something else entirely, Katheryne concluded. A mind reader, some sort of witch- just different. How had he known without her even saying anything?

She was stunned for quite some time, though still feeling guilty despite his supposed reassurance. The guilt partially stemmed from the fact that Klara was staring so intently at her, with big blue-purple-hued eyes, unknowingly being one of the main stressors of Katheryne’s guilt...

“Klara has too many nicknacks anyways,” You and Kaeya were sure she’d be some kind of trinket collector when she was older, seeing as though she had so many already. “Y/n says you spoil her.” Kaeya’s statement almost sounded like he was scolding her, but if not for the grin and chuckle he offered that immediately followed, she wouldn’t have known he was being entirely playful.

“That is not my intention. She’s just so adorable, I cannot stop myself,” Kaeya laughed, glancing down at the toddler. She was adorable, his little Mist Flower.

“If it bother you or Miss Y/n, I’ll-”

“It’s quite alright, Katheryne, no need to worry,” Kaeya announced smoothly, dramatically waving his hand to show he was dismissing her statements of protest and concern.

“Alright...”

Eventually, Kaeya did take his leave, much to Katheryne’s dismay. She’d probably see Klara tomorrow, if he stayed true to his schedule, so she remained hopeful and excited for tomorrow.

Before he knew it, Kaeya was bringing Klara home, giving you and Elena - who was now awake - hugs and kisses, telling you both to let Adrien know he loved him and that he’d return soon - he was still asleep. And then just like that Kaeya was out the door again and off to headquarters.

No one expected him to be at the Cat’s Tail this late at night, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected nor rare by any means, he was a familiar face after all.

It was unexpected because Kaeya claimed he had given up the incessant and excessive drinking years ago when his firstborn, Adrien graced Teyvat. Sadly, it was expected, because it seemed he’d been in here more in the last week than in the last few years... Though, patrons who often visited the tavern were all betting on the fact that you were entirely clueless to how much he’d been drinking; they were right. You were too busy taking care of the children and training to hopefully join the Knights again, to even keep up with your husband's drinking habits. So, it went unnoticed.

Diluc though, who was often at the tavern, noticed it unlike you. Kaeya had been a great pretender, a great spy; good at keeping secrets, but when he had secrets, somehow Diluc always found himself finding out first, if not second, closely behind you. And unfortunately - Diluc thought - he was on the more personal spectrum concerning the certain Knight... He was his brother, your brother in law, an uncle... He disliked what Kaeya was doing, greatly. Especially since it felt as though his idiotic brother was going behind his family's back. No, he hadn’t promised to quit entirely, but he’d made it seem that way to you. Probably a fabrication so you wouldn’t worry...

Diluc should’ve known he'd find himself back here again, trying to get his once again, idiotic brother, to leave and go home. The pyro user couldn’t understand. His brother had everything he didn’t. A beautifully devoted wife, three amazingly easy children, a status many simple Knights and Guards would kill for; Captain. And he’d rather risk it all for a drink or two, maybe three.

You thought nothing of it. Kaeya was out late a lot, more often than not patrol and paperwork held him from returning home, but on the rare occasions that he had a sliver of free time that wasn’t spent with you and the kids, he was drinking.

You always knew when he wouldn’t be returning, in the form of a letter from Kaeya, stating he was alright but would be staying to do paperwork, etc. It would be brought by one of his underlings, Knights or Guards in training. But when that letter never came, you panicked.

Was he alright? He never forgot to write... Maybe he was held up?

Thankfully, Lisa had decided to come over for tea earlier and had still been here trying her best to reassure you, after seeing how worried you’d been after not receiving any letter.

“You should probably return home, I’ll be alright.” You kept reassuring the librarian, though she wasn’t falling for it. She could practically feel the stress and anxiety oozing off of you, it was concerning.

You could only be thankful Amber had been busy and couldn’t come over for tea or else she would’ve ripped Kaeya a new one when she got ahold of him. He’d never be able to leave for missions again, without getting a reminder from Amber to reach out or else...

“Darling, I’m not leaving until he returns.” She took your hands in hers, hoping to offer you comfort. Lisa had always been there for you, which you were very thankful

She had no prior experience with children, though she was incredible with your own. You figured because she was one of the older members of the Knights of Favonius, she had taken more of a big sister role and the youngers looked up to her wisdom. Though she wasn’t much older than you, only by five or six years, so she was really like an older sister towards you as well. Lisa was a very kind woman, you appreciated her tons.

“Maybe I should go find him? I could ask around...”

“Please don’t stress, Y/n,” Lisa said. “You’re too beautiful to stress. I trust that he’ll be here soon.”

Lisa was in fact right. Kaeya returned soon after she had said he would. Master Diluc knocked on the door close to midnight, hanging off his arm was your drunk husband. When you saw him slumped on his brother's shoulder, you immediately assumed the worst. Maybe he’d been physically harmed. You were under the impression he had stopped drinking.

But then, when you allowed Diluc to step further into the house, you got a huge waft of what you quickly recognized as alcohol. Surprisingly enough for Diluc, you didn’t yell, instead, you just stared at Kaeya with disappointment, gravitating towards him to try and take him from his brother's arms.

“Thank you Diluc, I’m sorry you had to deal with this so late.”

The Ragnivndr wanted to scold his brother, for making a fool of himself and you, leaving you worried and disappointed. But, using better judgment, Diluc just nodded and offered an understanding and apology, on behalf of his out of it brother.

“It’s quite alright, I-”

“I’m sorry he had to come home this way,” Diluc stated, glaring at the taller man.

You hummed, helping Kaeya stumble into your living room, both Lisa and Diluc watching with worried gazes from the door. “Don’t worry, I’m just glad he’s safe.”

Diluc once again, realized his idiotic brother did not deserve you or your kindness and understanding. He was one lucky man, that was for sure.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree

2.10.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #i simp for kaeya so much #this took me 4 hours so pls i hope you enjoy

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kaminobiwan · 4 years ago

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hush

pairing: captain rex x reader

summary: you witness a side of Rex he never wanted you to see.

warnings: nightmares in this one loves, and mentions of death in flashbacks. also the f bomb plus other bad words not found in canon

a/n: more?? angst? I’m sorry??? this was requested by the harbinger of feelings™ herself, @morganas-pendragons (who is partially to blame for all my sad ideas lately, thank you I am LOVING this chaos), as well as an anon who wanted to see Rex being calmed down. the anon request was actually from wayyy back from my first milestone celebration, and the prompt word was ‘hush’, for which this fic is named. I am so sorry that took so long lmao and I’m still not done with all of them. but at least this time, it’s hurt AND comfort?

takes place a little while before Lost in Translation. hope you enjoy the return of Rex :-) bloop here’s my taglist

Of course, the first time you witness one of Rex’s nightmares, it’s one of the worst ones of his entire life.

He’d curse the Maker if he thought there really was one. At least, one that listened to clones.

But not even a Jedi could have consoled him after seeing the expression on your face when you found him thrashing around in his bed. The way your eyes shone with pitiful understanding as you’d realized why he would always keep his hair short, no matter what, from the way he’d been tearing at his skull.

Before this, he’d been having a surprisingly good day. Torrent Company’s recon mission had been a success, and back at base, they’d seen Fives and Echo — fresh from ARC training and beaming with new armor yet again. Fives had protested indignantly at being called an ‘ARC Shiny’ while Echo had promised to buy Rex a drink the next time they were both on Coruscant, and then he’d dragged you to his room at the end of the night in a rare moment of laughter and flirtatiousness.

He should have known better than to think he’d get away with one full rotation of peace.

The nightmare comes unexpectedly, his muscles seizing as gunfire flashes behind his eyelids. He’s back on Kamino, the attack on his homeworld replaying in his memories.

So many clones had died. Cadets had died.

The image in his mind fast-forwards to the aftermath of the massacre. He’s overturning the body of a brother clad in familiar colors — it’s Colt, unharmed save for a single lightsaber singe through the chest and a faint lip print left on his cheek.

And then, he’s screaming.

It was her, the assassin from Teth, the one that had wormed her way into his psyche and moved his limbs for him like a puppet on string, toying with his sanity as his own appendages betrayed him. She did this.

Colt’s hands suddenly reach up and grab hold of his face, dragging him downwards, and Rex screeches in terror. “Let go! Colt!”

“We fight together,” Colt’s eyes are unseeing, reflecting death, but his voice is directed to Rex nonetheless. “That’s what we said. But where were you, Rex?”

Another body rises next to him, but Rex is too wild with terror to turn. He can’t look at another dead brother. “You’re not real! Stop! Colt, I’m sorry.”

“Rex.” The voice calls his name again, but this time, it changes from Colt’s into someone else’s. Not a clone’s. “Rex! Wake up!”

His eyes fly open, his fallen brother’s hands morphing into your own as he takes in your face, frantic and lamenting. It’s still dark, but not tinged with the red of alarm lights on Tipoca. You grip his face tighter.

“This is real. I’m real.” Your voice breaks as you press your palms to his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I need you to come back to me.”

He can’t speak — can’t even force his lungs to inhale an ounce of oxygen. His chest and throat burn with exertion, but he’s still gasping for air.

“Breathe with me, yeah? Come on, Rex. Breathe.” Where was Colt? Where were the bodies?

He can tell he’s hyperventilating, but it begins to subside as you hum comfortingly and bring his hands to his torso, instructing him to hold his breath and exhale slowly. Your words barely make it to his brain, but he complies numbly, feeling his stomach rise and fall.

“That’s it — there you go.”

Your voice brings him back to earth, and shadows that rim the edges of his vision slowly fade out. You continue to coax him down from the adrenaline of the phantom threat, and his breathing soon evens out.

It was just a dream.

You help him through the comedown for a while longer, making sure he’s still there. As the fragments of reality fall back into place, Rex thanks whoever is listening for your presence.

But as soon as he’s cognizant enough to notice the tears drying on his cheeks, and realize the fetal position he’d assumed in the midst of his thrashing, the panic is replaced with embarrassment, along with something worse.

Anger.

Immediately, he wrenches out of your grip, flinging your hand away in the middle of you stroking his bare back. He registers the hurt that flashes in your eyes, but he’s too irrational to feel anything but disgust — with himself.

You don’t know that, though.

“Rex?” Your gaze is questioning, positively dripping with concern, and it makes him even angrier. He feels like a child.

“Stop that.” He all but growls, and you wince as if he’s struck you. Rather than apologizing, Rex twists his body from you in a half-hearted attempt to hide his storm of horrible emotions. Guilt streaks the red-hot fury that eats at his chest, but he ignores it all. Pushes everything that isn’t cold-blooded indifference away. Get a grip.

Your voice is tentative and small when you speak again — stars, he hopes you’re not crying. He can’t handle that right now. “Stop what, Rex?”

“That look! Stop fucking looking at me like that.” He waves a hand around sharply as he responds, but still doesn’t turn to face you. “I don’t want your pity.”

A sniffle comes from your direction, and Rex shuts his eyes. Fuck. You are crying, and he can tell you’re holding it in as best you can so he can’t hear you.

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but he can’t help it. Letting you see what’s going on inside his head means dragging you into his mess of a brain, his mess of a life, and you don’t need that. Nobody needs that. You’re already more involved in it than he wanted you to be.

What he needs right now is to be alone. For you to leave, so that he can compartmentalize. He needs the isolation to numb the panic he feels still shaking his bones beneath his skin.

He needs to hide.

But just as he’s about to open his mouth to ask you to get out of his room, you’re shuffling out from under the sheets and standing between his legs, arms on your hips.

“I’m not pitying you, Rex. I’m just worried.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m tellin’ you not to.”

“Tough shit, Rex. You don’t get to decide.” You cross your arms assertively, and he finally looks up at you with similar ire. You’re glaring now, tears gone, but that patronizing compassion is still there. Rex shoves the thought down.

You’re not patronizing him. And yet, he just feels that way.

See, this is why he has to deal with these things on his own.

You call his name again, demanding him to pay attention to you. “You don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve, Rex, but don’t hide everything all away just because you’re afraid someone might actually care about you.”

His brows furrow defensively. “I’m not —”

“You are. You always do. Because you think you don’t deserve it.” Although you’re speaking softly as to not wake the others in the barracks, your voice is still colored with insistence. Rex would laugh at the contradiction if he wasn’t so shaken. “It’s not up to you to decide what you’re deserving of. You don’t get to tell me how much I should care. You’re the one that needs to stop being so hard on yourself.”

His head lowers as he tries to escape the weight of your words. “I can handle it. I was bred for this.”

“Stop believing that! It’s not fair.”

“Fair to who? You?”

“To you!” You retort, throwing your hands up to accentuate your frustration. “You’re human, not just a clone. If you don’t quit the one-man-army act and open up, you’re gonna explode.” You seemingly deflate, but come down to sit next to him once more. Your hand comes to rest on his, and he doesn’t move it. “How well will you be able to lead your brothers then?”

You’re met with silence, and he can’t think of anything to say to fill it.

Deep down, Rex knows you’re probably right. You sound like Kix, telling him to take care of himself so he can take better care of others, but Rex has never been good at listening to that kind of talk, never been good at cutting himself any slack. He’s not even sure he wants to.

He doesn’t know who he’d become without the responsibility of command.

You squeeze his hand inquisitively, voice probing. “Rex, it doesn’t have to be me, but it has to be someone.” He looks up at you again, feeling drained. He’s tired. “We all want to be there for you. You just…” Trailing off, you search his eyes for any sign of acceptance, and his pupils follow yours as you pause. “You have to let us.”

He knows you don’t have anything left to say, and now it’s his turn to speak. You expect that from him, at the very least. This connection between you, whatever it was, consisted of a give and take. That much, he understood.

Still, it takes him a while to respond.

“I want it to be you.”

Your head tips in question, but you say nothing as you allow him the time to work through what he’s feeling.

“If I open up…I want it to be to you.” He nods as if he’s confirming the thought to himself, and his eyes find yours once more. “Please.”

You stare at him, and for a second Rex thinks he’s said the wrong thing, but then you let out a wry laugh. “If? Rex, you better believe that I’m not gonna quit until you do. In fact, you’re not leaving this bed until you promise you will.”

The mood shifts to a lighter one as you end your threat in teasing, but Rex still feels the seriousness in your statement. Somewhere inside him, gratefulness blooms, but he’s not yet conversationally equipped to tell you that without it sounding wrong to him. So, he places his other hand on top of yours instead.

“Okay.” He breathes. “I promise.”

That earns him a small smile from you, and in his exhaustion, he leans forward, resting his head on yours and clumsily plants a kiss to your eye. Your arms encircle him right away, and he buries his face into your shoulder. Silently, he catches the familiar scent from the fabric you’re wearing, and a smile of his own spreads when he recognizes his blacks on your frame.

“I don’t know how.” Still nestled in your embrace, he croaks out a warning. “But…I’ll try. For you.”

“For you,” you correct him, and he closes his eyes with at the way your affection overwhelms him. “Like I said before. I’ll help you with the rest.”

When he falls asleep again, cradled by you, it’s not a dreamless sleep.

But the dream is a good one.

#rini writes #captain rex x reader #clones x reader #yeap....i used THAT gif #I SWEAR I LOVE REX I JUST WANNA EXPLORE HIS CHARACTER #DON'T YOU JUST WANNA PEEL BACK ALL THOSE LAYERS

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chillyravenart · 4 years ago

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Do you think the first Rhaenys could be described as a “good Targaryen” like Alysanne or Daeron? I mean yeah she took care of the smallfolk and loved music, poetry etc. But also she was rumored to be accused in adultery and her japes about “the yellow toad of Dorne” doesn’t makes her seem like a very nice person. Just wanna know your opinion, have a good day😊

Hi anon! Lmao I see a lot of Rhaenys hate (from a particular group lol) on here for some reason and I genuinely don’t understand it! Gosh, I really wish people would actually READ the texts properly before passing such sweeping judgements lmao but if that was the case, the asoiaf fandom wouldn’t be such a cesspool of self-righteousness right? So here’s my opinion: Rhaenys never did a thing wrong in her life and anyone who says otherwise is a wet blanket. Don't you think it's suspect when how the maesters portray Rhaenys as a wanton adulteress and Visenya as a stone-cold bitch? I certainly do!

Queen Rhaenys was a very instrumental figure in the Conquest, and exercised “soft power” which is the use of diplomatic and persuasive forms of politics, usually by the use of cultural or economic means. We know this because Fire and Blood spells it out for us:

Queen Rhaenys was a great patron to the bards and singers of the Seven Kingdoms,showering gold and gifts on those who pleased her. Though Queen Visenya thought her sister frivolous, there was a wisdom in this that went beyond a simple love of music. For the singers of the realm, in their eagerness to win the favor of the queen, composed many a song in praise of House Targaryen and King Aegon, and then went forth and sang those songs in every keep and castle and village green from the Dornish Marches to the Wall.

Rhaenys also took a "great interest in the smallfolk, and had a special love for women and children” and was responsible for incorporating the “rule of six/rule of thumb” into common law after a man had beaten his wife to death after being found abed with another man. This is also detailed in F&B but I shall add it below:

The right of a husband to chastise an erring wife was well established throughout the Seven Kingdoms (save in Dorne). The husband further pointed out that the rod he had used to beat his wife was no thicker than his thumb, and even produced the rod in evidence. When the queen asked him how many times he had struck his wife, however, the husband could not answer, but the dead woman’s brothers insisted there had been a hundred blows.

She consulted her maesters and her septons on the matter before passing her judgement on the man.

An adulterous wife gave offense to the Seven, who had created women to be faithful and obedient to their husbands, and therefore must be chastised. As god has but seven faces,however, the punishment should consist of only six blows (for the seventh blow would be for the Stranger, and the Stranger is the face of death). Thus the first six blows the man had struck had been lawful…but the remaining ninety-four had been an offense against gods and men, and must be punished in kind... (The husband was taken to the foot of the Hill of Rhaenys, where he was given ninety-four blows by the dead woman’s brothers, using rods of lawful size.)

Rhaenys and Visenya were both equals when it came to policy-making and ruling Westeros alongside Aegon. And they both DELIVERED. Aegon’s chief objective was to unite the Seven Kingdoms, and Rhaenys and Visenya had their own methods of doing so- but Rhaenys in particular used very effective methods whether it was passing rulings on the common law or spreading the Gospel of House Targaryen😂 Similarly, Rhaenys and Visenya both arranged betrothals and marriages between the Houses of Westeros to further knit the kingdoms together.

Save perhaps for Good Queen Alysanne, the wife of King Jaehaerys I, no other queen in the history of the Seven Kingdoms ever exercised as much influence over policy as the Dragon’s sisters.

As for the “rumours” and “whispers” of Rhaenys sleeping around with bards- GOOD for her if she did, and GOOD for her if she didn’t. She had her man Aegon wrapped around her little finger, he spent ten nights with her for every night he spent with Visenya and if the rumours want to call her a floozy then bully for them. Funny how everyone goes cuckoo over Dornish sexual practise and liberation but lord forbid someone else have a lil fun on the side😂 Speaking of, lets get onto Meria Martell now. This is the entire exchange between them:

Meria Martell was eighty years of age, the maesters tell us, and had ruled the Dornishmen for sixty of those years. She was very fat, blind, and almost bald, her skin sallow and sagging. Argilac the Arrogant had named her “the Yellow Toad of Dorne,” but neither age nor blindness had dulled her wits. “I will not fight you,” Princess Meria told Rhaenys, “nor will I kneel to you. Dorne has no king. Tell your brother that.” “I shall,” Rhaenys replied, “but we will come again, Princess, and the next time we shall come with fire and blood.” “Your words,” said Princess Meria. “Ours are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. You may burn us, my lady…but you will not bend us, break us, or make us bow. This is Dorne. You are not wanted here. Return at your peril.” Thus queen and princess parted, and Dorne remained unconquered.

Someone please show me where Rhaenys japed or jeered at Meria. She didn’t personally name her The Yellow Toad, Argilac gave her that epithet and it was in common use by then lol, nor did she parlay with her in an insulting manner. She was there as an envoy to accept her fealty and win Dorne to her side. Later on during the campaign, Rhaenys told Aegon, “The Yellow Toad has melted into the sands” lmao but at this point if people are more concerned about name-calling then idk what to say. Nicknames are commonly used amongst the highborn and lowborn in Westeros, some are pleasant and some not so much - even amongst Targaryens. Aegon the Unworthy, Theon Stark the Hungry Wolf, Kingslayer, Brienne the Beauty, The Imp, Littlefinger, Harma the Dogshead, Whoresbane, Crowfood, etc are all nicknames in common usage! Calling someone a nickname doesn’t make them a bad person, if that was the case, the majority of characters in asoiaf are too🤦‍♀️

Rhaenys died very young, and her loss was keenly felt by her siblings, that much is certain. If she had lived longer, the histories may have turned out very differently! She was an astute, capable and lovable queen and the ultimate matriarch of House Targaryen. I personally believe she would have continued to be very instrumental in law-making and the lives of the smallfolk in Westeros, travelling with Aegon on his progress throughout the lands, holding her own courts and granting her patronage to many a singer and mummer. Good thing we have Queen Alysanne following in her grandmother’s footsteps and doing it for the people!

Long story short, you may or may not agree with the Conquest or House Targaryen in general - and that’s fine. We have a series filled with murderers and rapists and all kinds of unsavoury folks, but it kills me when people say Rhaenys wasn't a "good person" lmfaoooo just stan your bland favourites and stay outta Targaryens’ business!😂😂😂

Thanks for the question anon, hope you have a good day too!

#queen rhaenys targaryen #fire and blood #asoiaf #fanwank #anon asks #chillyravenart answers

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teamhawkeye · 4 years ago

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A while ago you had mentioned something about you having a Heisenberg fic brewing a bit...care to share any lil details (if you have them of course!) 👀 Spare Heisenberg content ma’am?

sure thing!!! bear in mind i've only bullet pointed a lot of stuff, and actually written like...half of a first chapter, lol. but here are some ideas thus far

Reader is from the eponymous Village, born and raised. They're used to the motions of everyday life, but still question mysterious disappearances and happenings that occur from time to time. They've got a curiosity for the outside world, even as talk and interaction with it is banned by Mother Miranda

Heisenberg and Reader meet by chance, in a very potentially dangerous situation for Reader. This leads to Reader owing Heisenberg a favor, as he decides to keep the matter under wraps in exchange for services rendered, and he eventually comes calling in a way Reader could never have expected and it leaves them even more confused about things happening in the Village

The two continue to meet sporadically throughout the span of a year or two (not decided on how long just yet), Reader becoming a bit bolder each time with him, even as his status as a Lord and his usual elusiveness makes their friends and family all worried for them when he shows interest in crossing paths more than once

The other Lords all make appearances from time to time - mostly by word-of-mouth, brought up with rumors villagers hear and share about each of them and their regions and such.

But Lady Dimitrescu and potentially her daughters all make physical appearances (the game states that that girls can't leave the castle when it's too cold, so that implies they might be able to leave the grounds in the spring and summer seasons, no?)

Mother Miranda as well would put in an appearance or two and Reader would have to address their belief or disbelief in the divinity surrounding the Village's patron saint

There would be a lot of exploration about the Village's beliefs and actions in the years leading up to the events of 8's plot. How they can be so fervent in their belief that Miranda protects them when villagers go missing all the time or bodies of the deceased vanish so often (is this even realized or not? potentially to be explored) or that they seem so aware that some of the Lords (i.e., Lady D) are fairly infamous for what they've heard happens around them and Miranda allows it. I really like the setting of the Village and wish to use it a bit more while it still is filled with life

Heisenberg and Reader end up working together after a certain point. Reader starts off not knowing about what Karl is up to and what he plans to do until after a while, so they start off with menial tasks and such to keep them out of his hair. That changes as they grow closer and some of the hierarchy surrounding Miranda and the Lords and the Village itself is revealed. It would also address the previously noted point about Reader's view of Miranda's sainthood as they learn more about the Cadou and the megamycete, the Lycans, etc.

that's about all i have for now that doesn't include like, major spoilers lmao. i hope that's not too terribly vague or confusing, my hope is to at least have a one-shot available to explore a little bit of it soon and test the waters and see if there was any interest in it becoming a mini-series or such

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cartooness · 4 years ago

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Mystery March Day 10: Mistake (Her Name?)

Alright my dudes: I know. Tis I, Cartooness, posting a ficlet of sorts. Which I never do lmao.

BUT!

I had ideas OWOWOWOWOWOW

Warning this portrays Mystery in a negative light so if that’s not ya jam, go ahead and skip.

**I START HERE, I’M USING THE READ MORE FOR A DIFFERENT TIME >:3**

SO @nemesis-is-my-middle-name and I were chatting and this is what came out of it XD

In my AU (that’s where my Lavender Grey character comes from lol), since I first made it I thought “omg what if Mystery was like. ‘Afraid’ or just weary of her because of how powerful she is” but now that The Future is out, I’m all “holy fucking shit what if Mystery is almost *jealous* of her because the gang doesn’t want him around her”. They say it’s for her sake (but it’s also for their sake) because they don’t want her to be scared.

He’s both [weary and jealous of Lavender], he’s all “okay. This girl comes LITERALLY out of nowhere and I’m glad they’re giving her a place to stay, she is a child. But this is a very powerful child, one that overwhelmingly outranks me in that field. Why aren’t they afraid of her? Why is it ME that they’re keeping her away from?”

I guess he knows what he’s done in the past was shitty, but he doesn’t know why this random ass kid owns their heart now when he’s the one who was there first. Ya know, like an asshole.

I wanna say that he makes her cry because he just lets all the negativity loose and he’s caught mid rant by ARTHUR.

So. Mystery has basically been fending for himself for a little while, no big deal. Except he can't stop thinking about that damned girl. What has she done for them? How has she won them all over so easily? Only Lewis was the type to be soft for children, but Arthur? VIVI? Being parental figures? The world has gone mad.

He saw them time to time in that mansion of Lewis's, and they all looked so happy without him. Vivi hadn't seemed to be going on missions anymore, which was beyond shocking. Why not, that child is so powerful any threats would back off if they had a single brain cell.

Not to mention Shiromori was now on the girl's side; he spotted her occasionally checking up on her and putting small blooms in her hair, typically while she slept. It made the child look more innocent than she actually was in his eyes. He remembered when he was the one getting flower gifts and such when Shiromori was on his side. And with a protector like her, the child was practically untouchable.

Mystery flirted with the idea of that girl getting hurt and them coming back to him for help. But he didn't let himself ponder too long, that would be cruel. But he couldn't help but think about it.

What *would* happen if harm came her way?

Would they mourn her if such a fate could happen?

Would they come crying back to him?

Or would they blame him for a tragedy he didn't cause. They just *loved* to blame him.

...

He couldn't stop himself anymore. He trotted his way to that stupid little happy home and sniffed out what room belonged to the girl, the unmistakable scent of raw power and flowers filling the air. He peered into her window, in his dog form, and lo and behold she was there. He yanked the window open and sat on her bed, not caring about getting that sickeningly "cute" comforter dirty with his mud covered paws.

"Oh! It's you, Mystery. Can... I help you?" She was a bit puzzled as to what he needed her for, she thought he was fine being on his own.

Actually my dear, you can.

"Oh?-"

Get out of their lives. You don't deserve anything they've given you.

Her pupils shrunk, taken aback from his remark. "Did I do something wrong? I don't-"

Don't play stupid with me, girl. You are the reason I'm not allowed to be with them anymore, that I've been scorned to never return. You just barged your way into their lives, into MY life and took everything I've worked so hard for away. They're so worried about their 'little princess' that they don’t realize how damn DANGEROUS you are!

Don't they feel that power you possess? Aren't they afraid of you?

She looked like he ripped her gut out, her eyes welling with tears, irises ever so slightly tinting blue with sadness.

Don't you DARE cry, he growled, you won't get a drop of pity out of me.

"Mystery”, she started, sniffling as she tried to speak, “please tell me-"

I'M ALREADY TELLING YOU, YOU IDIOT! HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE? YOU RUINED EVERYTHING FOR ME AND YOU’RE ACTING LIKE YOU DESERVE THIS LOVING LITTLE FAMILY? WELL YOU DON'T. *I'M* THE ONE WHO PROTECTED THEM, *I'M* THE ONE WHO KEPT THEM OUT OF HARM'S WAY, THEN YOU SHOW UP AND RIP IT ALL AWAY!!

WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIONS? WHY DO YOU ACT LIKE YOU'RE HARMLESS? NOBODY WITH POWERS LIKE YOURS STAY IDLE. WHERE DID YOU EVEN COME FROM?! I KNOW YOU'RE NOT HUMAN, SO DON'T TRY AND LIE TO ME. YOU THINK YOU'RE *SO* SPECIAL DON'T YOU?

She was sobbing now, eyes visibly baby blue and tears running down her face.

FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHUT UP WITH ALL THAT CRYING AND-

"Mystery if you don't leave right now I SWEAR I will chop every God forsaken tail of yours off."

Shit.

A-Arthur I-

"Why the fuck are you here? What made you think you were welcome?" His fatherly instinct had kicked in as soon he heard noise from his child’s room and ran over in an instant.

"Lav, baby, go to the bathroom” he started with a kiss to her nose, “so you can go wash your face. I have some business to finish", directing his gaze towards the intruder.

I'm here to open your eyes, Arthur. What has she accomplished while I was gone? What’s been going on with you... five? It seems her army grows every day.

"That is PATHETIC, Mystery."

What is? I'm just stating-

"I don't give a shit about your opinion, you broke into a child's room and you're YELLING AT HER because what, you're fucking....”

He pondered why Mystery was here spreading grief. They did tell him to piss off so that Lav wouldn’t be in danger, and honestly they didn’t need to be so stressed with him in the house all the time either. It’s not a good idea to welcome back a recently possessed kitsune into their home when they were all recovering from the trauma he inflicted. Old and new...

New... is he...

“Are you,,, jealous of her?" he asked, tone on the verge of shock.

Good lord, this boy.

Arthur, I am here because I care and I worry about you, Lewis, and Vivi. And it concerns me that you've thrown all my help away for some MUTT that doesn't belong-

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Arthur shouted, trembling and trying not to scream so he wouldn’t scare Lav a few doors down.

I will NOT, I'm not done yet-

"YES YOU FUCKING ARE.”

The look of pain and anger was so clear on his face, and Mystery shut his mouth instantly.

"YOU *ARE* DONE BECAUSE YOU JUST RUINED THE VERY MINISCULE CHANCE WE WERE GOING TO GIVE YOU TO PROPERLY MEET HER. YOU’VE MADE ONE TOO MANY MISTAKES."

His voice was cracking, he wasn’t the type to do all... this. Just how much had this girl influenced them?

Arthur, please-

As if on cue, Lavender returned from the bathroom. "Mr. Arthur, am I in trouble?” She asked, big brown eyes looking up at him. “Mystery kept telling me that I did something wrong by being here and it didn't make sense to me."

"What exactly did he tell you, love?" he asked, eyebrows slightly softening just for her.

Oh FUCK. ((A/N: YEAH U DONE FUCKED UP YOU ASS))

She looked almost scared to answer; she was aware the kitsune could be merciless, and didn’t want to be attacked in the mansion Lewis had worked so hard on. Mystery was so angry at her and she didn’t understand why.

"Well... he told me that I ruined his life because I guess I took his place or something. He said I'm dangerous because I'm more powerful than him, and.. he said mean things about me in general.”

Arthur’s metal hand flew up, ready to attack.

“Mr. Arthur! W-what are you doing?-"

And Arthur hit Mystery as hard as he could.

There was an excruciating scream of pain, one that caused Lewis and Vivi to abandon the groceries they were bringing in to see all the commotion.

ARTHUR, YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!

"YOU MADE MY CHILD CRY BECAUSE YOU HAD YOUR PETTY FEELINGS HURT? FOR SOMETHING SHE NEVER DID? YOU HAD THE GOD DAMN *BALLS* TO BREAK IN, YELL INSULTS AT A KID, MAKE HER CRY, AND THINK THAT YOU WERE IN THE RIGHT?"

Lewis rushed over, trying to calm his boyfriend down. "Arthur, mi amor, what- MYSTERY?! How did HE get here?!”

S h i t.

Vivi felt her heart drop to her feet at the mention of her ‘dog’s’ name. "WHAT IS HE DOING HERE? I THOUGHT WE KICKED HIM OUT!" she exclaimed, her stomach filling with dread.

Lewis, Vivi, if you just let me EXPLAIN-

Arthur almost made a hole in the wall with the pound of his fist. "So this little FUCKER broke into Lav's room to yell at her because she lives with us and he wasn't invited. I come over to see who's in her room yelling at her, and she's crying uncontrollably while he keeps going at her, spewing a bunch of BULLSHIT, and he thinks he can explain himself and why he's in the right."

"....what?" said Lewis and Vivi, shocked by Mystery's audacity.

Lav started to cry again, thinking she would be punished for this, and Lewis quickly pulled her into his embrace. "Mi florecita preciosa, you did nothing wrong-"

REALLY LEWIS? Mystery growled, feeling patronized, especially as Lewis tightened his grip. SHE'S NOT A BABY-

"Shut your snout right now", snapped Vivi. "Get the fuck out of our house and you BETTER not come back. You have ONE chance to apologize to her and that's it."

Can I come back if I do?

"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO COME BACK" growled Arthur, his flesh hand placed gently on Lav's head and his metal one pointing at Mystery, Lewis glaring so hard it could kill.

Nobody was on his side, and the look on the girl’s face almost made him feel bad.

Almost.

Very well then. I'll be on my way and hope that your ignorance won’t become your downfall.

"Hey Mystery, one more thing", Lewis started. "If you ever come back with bad intentions, we will kill you ourselves. I swear on anything and everything that you will not come here with a DROP of malice towards her. Do I make myself clear? And don’t you dare try and act smart, we are giving you a LOT of mercy when you don't deserve it."

...then I bid farewell. What is her name?

"My name is Lavender Grey."

Thank you. Goodbye, Miss Lavender Grey.

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #cartooness writes sometimes #I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY OWOWOW #IF U HAVE QUESTIONS MY ASKBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN!!!!!!!!!#mystery #lavender grey #arthur kingsmen #vivi yukino #lewis pepper #shiromori is in here for like 5 seconds

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ampleappleamble · 4 years ago

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lmao how/why am i actually still writing this y'all???? anyway, here's the first finished portion of my new Pillars WIP, working title: God's Children Bathe Free. It's gonna be a one-chapter wonder about an old man takin' a bath and having Feelings about it ♡

—

It was the third Rytlingsdag of the month.

Having been raised in a land of sub-freezing temperatures and a culture that regarded him as more holy symbol than flesh-and-blood man, Vatnir had only ever rarely found himself in the company of the underdressed. Communal bathing was commonplace in many clans to conserve the energy needed to heat bathwater, but bathing alongside ordinary clanmates wasn't an activity befitting the progeny of a god, apparently, so Vatnir had always been obliged to wash by himself, when he bothered at all. (This was all due to piety, of course. Nothing at all to do with how he looked, how he smelled.) And for a brother or sister of the clan to attempt to initiate any kind of inappropriate intimacy with the High Harbinger, to open their robes to him– why, that was unheard of, a perverted act of unforgivable blasphemy. So while he had gotten glimpses here and there over the decades of kith with their chests bared or their trousers around their knees– Hel, back when he'd still had lips, a drunken reveler had even kissed him once, full on the mouth, during a festival– the priest could honestly say he'd seen more dead people in his life than he had naked people.

So to say that his first evening in Neketaka was a bit of shock to him would be somewhat of an understatement.

"Because it's the third Rytlingsdag of the month." That's all she'd said when he'd asked the Duskspeaker why they were here, in this too-crowded, too-loud, too-bright street in the middle of this twisted pile of a city. Though the sun was setting, the streets of Periki's Overlook were more than adequately illuminated by arcane torches, their eerie blue light glinting off of the glittering cobblestone. Vatnir winced against the unnatural glare as he tried to avert his gaze from the unsettling amount of bare skin around him, and he muttered softly to himself, pondering the uncharacteristically cryptic response the little Watcher had given him. What did the day of the month have to do with dragging him up a crowded, noisy mountain, being shamelessly gawked at by barely-dressed socialites?

"You haven't figured it out yet?" The air suddenly tasted strongly of the sea, and Vatnir turned his head to find Tekēhu looming over his shoulder, that seemingly permanent sensual grin still chiseled into his perfect face. "I say, you are a rare one, friend Vatnir. I almost envy you, your innocence..."

"Don't tease him, Tekēhu." Pallegina's voice had an edge to it– more than usual, even– but Vatnir still spotted a tiny smile playing on the feathered woman's lips. Until she addressed him, of course, and her typical cool scowl returned. "We are heading for the Luminous Bathhouse, priest. The proprietor offers use of the facilities free of charge to all Godlike patrons after sunset on the third Rytlingsdag of every calendar month."

Tekēhu laughed and his hand fell heavily on Vatnir's shoulder, his knobbly knees knocking together under the blow. "Ekera, just so! And he has done so every month for at least as long as I have been in the city, if not longer. A truly magnanimous soul, my heavenly half-brother Ganor. And a wise leader our little Watcher is, to take advantage of such a generous deal!" His sharp, white smile gleamed in the arcane lamplight, and the sickly little elf winced.

The bathhouse. They were going to the bathhouse, ostensibly for a bath. And...

"And... the Duskspeaker expects me to go in there?" Vatnir's near-constant trembling intensified for a moment as he considered the implications. Oh, gods, was he actually going to have to disrobe in public, in front of everyone? In front of the Watcher and her little wizard boyfriend and that horrid animancer woman? ...And was everyone else going to...?

Tekēhu blinked at the horned man, oblivious. "Well... ekera, yes, of course. The baths have no entry fee for Godlikes this evening, we are Godlikes–"

"–and the Watcher likes to take good care of her crew," Pallegina finished for him, slowing her pace to match Vatnir's. She craned her neck to gaze into his face, a spark of concern in her golden eyes. "...Although she would understand, I think, if you'd rather not participate."

"Don't get my hopes up, serra, please," Ydwin sighed as she strolled quickly past the little cluster of Godlikes, and Vatnir shot her a vicious glare that she did not notice at all. Tíkka.

Tekēhu actually gasped, and Vatnir found himself tolerating the man's gigantic, clammy hands on his shoulders yet again. "Not participate? Oh, my dear lady knight, you mustn't suggest such wicked ideas to one who has never experienced the pleasures of the Luminous Bathhouse before! Especially on this day of all days! To allow this poor, pitiable man to pass up the opportunity to luxuriate in those magical waters and not pay a pand for the privilege– it's a crime, I say, and one that I simply cannot condone." He squeezed the priest's shoulders to emphasize his feelings on the matter, and Vatnir grunted in annoyance, wriggling angrily out of the well-meaning fishman's grip. Tekēhu looked positively wounded.

"You will go to the bathhouse with us, won't you?" The watershaper's wet, black eyes fixed themselves on Vatnir, shining opalescent in the streetlights. "You must!"

"Unless you would prefer not to," Pallegina insisted, shooting the tentacle-headed man a look halfway between warning and plea, before turning her attention back to Vatnir, that same concern from before still gleaming in her keen eyes. "You seem to be a bit... overwhelmed by the city. If the bathhouse seems like it might be too much for you, there is no shame in admitting that. But ultimately, the choice is yours to make."

It took the priest a moment to realize that the other two had stopped talking and were staring at him, waiting for him to make up his mind now that his options had been presented. His eyes darted quickly between the other two Godlikes– Tekēhu, making sad eyes at him like an orphaned seal pup, and Pallegina, her cool aloofness only slightly betrayed by one feathered eyebrow cocked ever-so-slightly higher than the other.

And then he looked past them to the fore of their little group, at the Duskspeaker marching confidently up the hill, her broad hips swaying alluringly beneath her bountiful burgundy curls. At Aloth next to her, the muscles in his shoulders and neck taut and firm beneath his smooth, flawless skin. ...At that hairy blue gremlin of a pirate, practically hanging from Ydwin's elbow, cracking wise and peeking back over his shoulder to point and smirk at Vatnir. At Ydwin, responding with yet another infuriating snicker that came, no doubt, at his expense. Vatnir glared petulantly back down at his feet, embarrassed and angry and conflicted.

If I go in there, they'll– everyone in there will see me, look at me. At my ruined body, my horns, what remains of my face. He could already picture the disgust on the other bathers' faces, hear the jeers and exaggerated retching that often accompanied his appearance in a public place. Not that others' opinions of his body had ever really mattered to him before, but it hit a little differently without his High Harbinger clout to protect him. And I'll see them, too. All of them, with... everything that implies. He stole another glimpse at the Watcher's curves, her full, round behind wiggling as she walked– and he instantly regretted it, guilt and shame bubbling up in his gullet like bile.

But... it'll feel nice, at least, the bath will. Probably. And all the other Godlikes there will surely divert some of the attention from me, at least insofar as providing a bunch of other strange bodies for the nosy fools to gawp at. And even if I do have to suffer the indignity of being stared at and mocked, they'll have to endure the experience of perceiving me, too. Hel, it might be worth it to attend just to spoil Ydwin's evening... He pictured the haughty little shrew gathering her things and storming off in a huff, her precious bath ruined by his mere presence, and his lipless mouth twitched into a mangled grin.

"Oh, I..." he sighed, picking absently at a scab, "I could join in just this one time, I suppose. If, as you say, I must." He rolled his eyes back up to meet Tekēhu's, just in time for the giant to pull him close with one arm, crushing the frail priest against his moist, briney torso in an overly energetic side hug.

"Marvelous!" he cried merrily as he lifted the poor man off his feet. "My friend, you won't regret this. I'll make certain of it!"

"Di verus, I think he might regret it a bit already," Pallegina chuckled as she picked up her pace again, the matter settled at last. "Do put him down before you hurt him, aimico."

"Too late," Vatnir gurgled, writhing miserably in the aumaua's grip. This was going to be a difficult evening.

—

#pillars of eternity #fanfic wip #vatnir #tekehu #pallegina #will the bathhouse employees let his stinky ass in? tune in next time to find out!#(spoilers: yes but axa has to yell at them a little bit)

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wizaad · 4 years ago

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What are your headcanons about a romantic relationship between mirage and wraith? I'm curious since so many in the community ship them.

*whips out podium and powerpoint presentation* I'm glad you asked about my fav ship, friend

Classic friends to lovers. How they met and became friends belongs to an entirely separate post, so I won't go into detail here lol

Elliott definitely caught feelings first.

Wraith was a little (a lot) more hesitant about acknowledging any kind of feelings she had, even the initial platonic ones. She wasnt planning on making friends with other Legends... least of all falling in love with one of them!!

100% the best friends couple. Endless teasing and poking fun, but fiercely protective and respectful of one another... Wraith needs someone who won't let her take herself too seriously, and Elliott needs someone who will take him seriously

He literally texts her non-stop. Even if they're in the same room, he'll send some shit like "hi :)" and stare at her until she reads it. Only sends memes when he knows it's something she'll actually find funny

While they don't hide their relationship, they don't exactly show it off, either. Path and Natalie definitely know, and they're pretty sure the rest of the Legends do as well, but they don't really care

Wraith is the big spoon more often than not

Cooking together is a big part of their relationship!! Wraith never devoted time to learning how to cook after she escaped the facility, living on takeout and ready-meals, so Elliott teaches her all his best family recipes

She joins him behind the bar at the Paradise Lounge on busy nights. Partly to help out, partly to put some distance between herself and the crowd of patrons

You'll catch them at the compound gym together, Elliott holding the punching bag so it doesn't sway while she works it. To the naked eye, it seems as though she ignores his words of praise and encouragement as she hits it. But really, it fuels her, pushes her to go harder

If they're too lazy to go the gym, but still want to do something, they'll go on little walks. Elliott definitely doesn't take secret photos of her when she's not looking... no sir.

Elliott belongs to the very small list of people who can touch her hair. He, however, loves people playing with his hair... Especially Wraith.

CEOs of falling asleep on each others shoulders on the way back after a match

Always waiting for the other to wake up after a regeneration

Patching each other up after a match!! Gentle touches, fingers skimming over bruises, making sure the other has eaten something before they go to sleep

His mom. Loves. Her.

Elliott always needs a very long hug after being put on the same team as Revenant

He loves wearing her hoodies. Well, the ones that fit, that is

The longer they're together, the more Wraith just... Loves touching him. His cheeks, the scars on his face, his chest and shoulders, and ohhh his hands. Her skin is cold, and his is warm

Since Wraith has no memory of her life before, their first time was, technically, her first time. Elliott was incredibly gentle and attentive, making sure she consented to their every move

One of the main ways they bonded pre-relationship was through movie marathons. That continued when they became a couple. Elliott doesn't realise just how much she appreciates the normalcy of it; how it makes her feel more connected to humanity

He always accidentally talks way too much about her during interviews

They just???? Love each other so much??? And they're so pure??? My heart???

I hope this is what you were looking for!!! This definitely isn't everything, but I had to stop while I still could lmao

Send me headcanon asks!!! Or any asks :)

#apex legends #apex legends wraith #apex legends mirage #mirage x wraith #wraith x mirage #miraith #you made the mistake of asking me about my babies

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onthepageoftears · 4 years ago

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Kill Your Darlings Ch. 18 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Another long chapter! Only a few more to go! I’m gonna be a little MIA while I play The Last of Us Part II, but I’ll still check back and reblog some stuff! So if I don’t reply to your comments etc right away it’s just because I’m crying over Ellie and Joel lmao Enjoy!

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: The ones we were once closest to might be further than we remember.

Warnings: mentions of death, killing, blood, wounds, bruises, language, fluff, slight angst/comfort, tensionnnn, and more angst hehe

Words: 3,731

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Time was slow.

Maybe it was because your adrenaline was dying down. Maybe it was because you just realized the bard next to you was not just…a bard. But sitting in the bandit camp you and Geralt and Jaskier had just cleared out, you were feeling anything but anxious, anything but worried. You were feeling…content.

You practically smiled to yourself as Jaskier reapplied bandages to your wounds. He had found supplies in the camp and immediately offered to help you, despite the fact that you could very easily do it yourself. But still, you let him.

His hands worked carefully as he wrapped the wound on your leg. It was looking better than when you had first got it, which was a plus. But right now, you were focused on his fingers, on the way they moved so particularly, almost like he was playing his lute. It was like every movement of his was calculated and purposeful, and the slight grazes of his fingertips on your skin felt that way as well. You had to practically pray to the gods that he didn’t notice the flustered expression on your face that you so desperately tried to conceal.

“There,” he said, finally tying the bandage so it didn’t undo the work he did. “That should hold for a while longer.”

You blinked and rolled down your pants, slightly disoriented now that he wasn’t as close to you anymore, “Right. Thanks.”

As soon as Jaskier’s touch wasn’t on your skin, your mind flooded with thoughts you were trying to push away. Your mind first went to Hotch. He was a disgusting man, willing to do anything for revenge — even killing his own wife. He would have hurt a little girl at the chance of getting back at the man who seduced his lover; even though you knew he was crazy, you couldn’t help but connect his actions with your own. Despite hating him for what he did — and might have done if you hadn’t killed him — at one point, you did the same. Your whole life you were raised to hurt those who hurt others, in hope that it would fill the hole that was left after your father murdered your mother.

And then you met Jaskier. But honestly, that didn’t change anything. If anything, it made it worse. You would do anything for Jaskier, and had done anything for him. You killed Joneta. It seemed like so long ago that you had…ended her life, but it was only the other day. And you wouldn’t stop there. You would do anything for Jaskier, to get back at those who wronged him. So how did that make you any different from monsters like Hotch?

“What are you thinking about?” Jaskier’s voice broke your thoughts, making you turn to him. As usual, his eyes bore into your own with an intensity that you still weren’t used to. Maybe you wouldn’t have told him if he wasn’t looking at you that way. But of course, you did.

You let out a small breath, “Hotch.”

“What about him?”

You shifted in your spot, keeping your eyes just to the side of Jaskier’s face.“He was…blinded by his rage. His rage for you.” You met his gaze again, a new hardness to your stare, “He wanted revenge.”

Jaskier’s frown turned into soft expression as realization took over, “Y/N—“

You cut him off, “After my mother died, and my uncle taught me everything I know…I did anything for justice. For revenge.”

“But you’re not like him.”

“Why not?” Your eyes stung with tears, but you blinked them away. “I’m an assassin, Jaskier. I kill people.”

“I know that—“

“No, you don’t. I kill people and I enjoy killing people. If I hadn’t known you were innocent, I would have enjoyed killing you too.”

Jaskier faltered, his eyes alleviating as he looked back at you, “But you didn’t. And that’s what makes you different.” He tentatively placed a hand on your knee, watching your face to make sure you were okay with it. When you didn’t flinch, he spoke again, “I know what you’re capable of Y/N.”

And it doesn’t bother me. He didn’t say it with words, but as his eyes searched your own it was clearer than anything he could have said.

Jaskier looked at you like he was about to say something else, but before he could, Geralt’s footsteps emerged from wherever he had previously been in the camp.

“We should probably leave here soon. We don’t know if there are more bandits, and we don’t want to be here to find out.”

It was then that realization struck you. You had to warn Rauf about everything that had happened. Though it was only a couple of days, so much had been revealed to you, to all of you, and Rauf knew nothing about it. He had to be wondering where you were, what was taking so long — but once you told him everything you knew, he’d understand.

You hoped.

“I have to go,” you said suddenly, pushing yourself off the log you had been sitting on.

Jaskier immediately reached towards you, “You have to—hold on, now.” He grabbed your wrist before you could limp away, “Go where?”

“To talk to Rauf. I have to warn him. About everything.” You shifted to face the bard, “I mean, who knows how many other innocent people are being targeted for no good reason.”

Jaskier nodded and stood beside you, “Great. Yes, okay. Then let’s go.”

You stopped, gently taking your wrist from his grasp, “No.”

“No?”

“I have to go alone. You can’t show your face, at least not until I clear everything up.”

“You can’t go alone.” To your surprise, it was Geralt who spoke this time.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Why not?

Jaskier spoke, cutting Geralt off, “We just…don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You gritted your teeth, “Why not?”

“Maybe we should plan it out first?”

“What is there to plan out?”

The silence that followed was not actually silence. There was an unspoken conversation that hung in the air as Jaskier and Geralt shared a look, one that you were quite determined to bring to light.

You glared at the two of them until Geralt finally spoke.

“Your guild leader isn’t who he says he is.”

You frowned at Geralt’s words, swallowing a lump in your throat as your stomach dropped, “And how would you know that?”

Geralt hesitated before responding, “I followed you to your guild.”

It wasn’t news to you. But his matter-of-fact tone made you feel ten times more defensive.

“And?”

“I went back there after you returned the first time. When you and Jaskier were waiting in the Nowhere Inn.”

You frowned, searching your memory. You guessed he was talking about when you first noticed Joneta lurking around the inn, when Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Geralt continued, “I wanted to see if he was actually checking on the client, like you said he would.”

“How did you know who he was?”

“He stood tall, unafraid. Unlike you, he didn’t slink around when he walked. He didn’t care about being careful.” Geralt relented, “And, he was the only one who came out of the guild without the cloaks like yours.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So you guessed.”

“Was it not accurate?”

You took a sharp breath in through your nose — from his description, it was definitely Rauf he was talking about. No one else from the guild had the same…aura as your uncle, and even if they did, they would have been wearing some sort of cover so no one could see their face.

You nodded your head, still feeling stiff with indignation, “So you followed him. And…?”

“He didn’t come here.”

You frowned, “So? They could have met at another place. It’s not unusual.”

Geralt only quirked a brow, as if to say, do you really believe that?

“He could have been set up as well.” You huffed in frustration, “There’s no way to know for sure until I confront him.”

“And what if it does go wrong?” Geralt crossed his arms over his chest, “Are you going to fight your way out?”

You gritted your teeth, anger seeping through you at Geralt’s patronizing tone, “Yes.”

Jaskier scoffed beside you, “Right, because it’s not like your leg is horribly injured and you can barely walk on it — much less take out a whole guild of assassins.”

It was an understatement to say you were shocked at Jaskier’s bluntness. The frown on his face was enough to make you step back — not from fear, but from surprise. You blinked as he softened his expression, reaching a hand out towards you in comfort. But you shifted away from his touch.

Jaskier spoke again, choosing his words carefully, “We just…need to be cautious, is all.”

“Fine,” you practically spat, turning away from the bard. “But we do this my way. And if you don’t do what I tell you, I’ll knock you out myself.”

Neither of the men responded to you as you limped back towards the horses and out of the camp.

—

The ride back to Novigrad was quiet. At first you had been fuming from what was said — how dare they assume Rauf was guilty when they didn’t even know him? Sure, you had your suspicions, but when they did, it felt like a direct attack. You knew you were wrong to have been so mad at them, but by the time you had gotten close to Novigrad, your previous frustration was taken over by a new anxiety.

What if they were right. What if Rauf never checked the payer — or what if he did, and he didn’t care? Where would that leave you? Where would that leave him?

Once you were at yet another tavern in Novigrad, you slid off the horse without Jaskier’s help; but once your feet landed on the ground, you kept your hands on the horse in front of you.

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” Jaskier said once he landed beside you.

You snorted, “Don’t think I can?”

“Of course I do.”

You fought the urge to look at his infamous eyes, instead focusing on Buttercup’s fur under your fingers. For some reason, looking at Jaskier made your stomach twist in a different way — it was like a new fear, a fear of something happening to him. You had felt it before, especially when you faced Joneta. But now, it felt different. Stronger. Like because now that you knew there was something deeper in your relation to him, losing him gained a thousand times more weight.

Before, you had wanted justice for Jaskier. You wanted him to be able to walk the streets again and perform without worrying about someone trying to kill him. Even though you barely knew him, and his personality was not something you thought you could ever miss, you didn’t want him dead.

But now, not wanting him dead had turned into needing him alive. If he died…you couldn’t even think about what it would do to you. And that…that was scary.

“We’ll be fine,” you said, the words surprising both you and Jaskier. You looked back at him, your eyes trailing to his lips, which were slightly ajar. He placed his hand beside your own on the side of Buttercup’s stomach.

His eyes stayed on yours, “Of course.” He smiled, the playfulness in his tone not meeting the fear in his eyes, “All you have to do is…not die.”

You huffed out a laugh, despite the constricting in your chest, “I would never.”

The smile on your face fell almost immediately, but instead of turn away from Jaskier, you placed your hand over his.

The look he gave you made your stomach flop, but you kept his gaze. “I’m going to fix this.”

After a moment, he sent you a small smile. “I know.”

—

The torches outside of the new fellowship gates flickered in the darkness as you lifted a fist to knock on the raggedy wood.

The small eye hole slid open, revealing a predictably gruff face.

“I’m here for the fellowship,” you stated, ignoring the nerves bundled in your stomach.

To your surprise, the face in the eye hole broke into a smile. Almost hastily, the man slammed the small door shut and eagerly opened the gates for you.

His smile was just as wide when he grabbed you in a bone crushing hug, “Y/N, how are ya?”

“Terrific,” you mumbled into his shoulder, praying to the gods that he would let you go before you stabbed him right then and there.

Thankfully for him, he did. His smile was smaller, but still present. “Remember me?”

You hesitated, but nodded, “You’re the same guy who let me in last time. Uh…”

“Androu.”

“Right. Androu. Cool.” Talk about a new recruit, you mused as he watched you step forward, only to hold an arm out in front of you.

“Ah, not so fast. Gotta leave your weapons at the front. New rule.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you frowned at your own nerves. It won’t have to come to that anyway, you thought, but your gut was telling you otherwise.

You huffed at the new guard and started removing your knives from their sheaths despite your inner protest. One hour and Geralt and Jaskier will come in. That would give enough time to talk to Rauf and figure things out before it got too crazy. If it got too crazy.

At the last second, you decided to leave one knife in your boot hidden. What they didn’t know, they couldn’t find.

After the guard — er, Androu — secured your weapons, you decided to test the waters of his overt friendliness, “And what idiot made this weapon stripping rule?”

“Me.” The two of you snapped your heads to the side, where Rauf was standing with a charming smile.

You looked at him, your spine stiff. It hadn’t been too long since the last time you saw him, but somehow, now, he looked…foreign. More confident than you’d ever seen him, which was saying something.

Still, you snorted a laugh, “You’ve lost your touch, uncle.”

“That’s not what the brothel women told me last night.”

The guards around him laughed hesitantly, making you roll your eyes. Even though his presence made you a bit uneasy (and apparently the guards as well), you couldn’t help but shake your head at his humor. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much. Maybe it’s just…paranoia.

His infamous smile lay comfortably on his face. “Care to join me in my office?”

You nodded and followed after him, quirking a brow at the two guards that followed behind you.

“You have guards now?”

Rauf chuckled, “The guild is growing, Y/N. We’re not a small fellowship anymore. And with more people, there is more potential for…threats.” He looked at you from the corner of his eye, “You understand that, don’t you?”

You simply nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. You couldn’t wait for this to be over. And whatever this was, you couldn’t say.

Surprisingly, when you got to Rauf’s office, the guards waited outside. You almost expected them to stand on either side of Rauf at all times, like he was royalty or something. But that relief was soon extinguished when the door was closed behind you and you were left with just your uncle. You felt like you were getting ready to be lectured, even though he was the one who needed to be informed.

“Are you here to tell me good news?” Rauf sauntered deeper into the room, his eyes twinkling with a certain mischief that used to comfort you.

“Afraid not,” you said, watching as he leaned his hands on his desk. You opened your mouth to continue, but found yourself at a loss for words. How were you going to explain everything to him? Where would you start? What would make him actually believe you?

And why were you doubting him so much?

But before you could speak, Rauf sighed. “Joneta went to claim your target. Never came back. Do you know anything about that?”

You clenched your jaw, nearly drawing blood as you bit your tongue. You didn’t expect her name to come up so early in the conversation. You had hoped you could bring up what happened with her after he understood why you didn’t kill Jaskier, why you couldn’t. And why that meant you had to kill Joneta. But right now, looking in his disappointed eyes, you knew it wasn’t the time.

So, you lied.

“No.”

Rauf clicked his tongue, “But, I’m assuming you do know that your target is still out there.”

You shifted in your spot, trying to cease the fire that had begun spreading across your skin. “I know it’s not him.”

“And let me guess. You decided this on a gut feeling?”

“No.” Your outburst startled you; it was something you hadn’t done since you were young. But this tone Rauf was using with you — that reminded you of your childhood. He was treating you like an insubordinate child, like a rebel without a cause. Despite the anger filling your veins, you tried to remain calm.

After a moment, you cleared your throat, “I found the payer—“

“You found the payer?” His own anger surprised you, but you stood your ground. “And how did you manage that?“

You involuntarily shifted your gaze down to his desk of still unorganized papers. His eyes followed your own before he let out a scoff of disbelief, “You disobeyed a superior based on a gut feeling—“

“And I was right—“

“But you knew what you did was wrong, because you went behind my back to do it.”

You clamped your mouth shut. The feeling of shame twisted in your gut as Rauf looked at you and tilted his head.

“Is that not true?”

You spoke through gritted teeth, “Yes.”

You held his angry gaze before he let out a sigh and turned away. You released a breath, composing yourself before he turned back around.

“How many times in the last few times we’ve met have I had to ask you to trust me?” You opened your mouth to speak, but he held a hand up to stop you. “Rhetorical question.”

“I wasn’t going to answer that.” You spoke despite the glare he sent you. “I was going to say that this isn’t about not trusting you. It’s about trusting myself.”

“Y/N—“

“I followed all of your lessons. Your rules. I heard them in my head, being relayed to me over and over again as I made these…decisions. But still, my…gut—“ Rauf rolled his eyes, but you continued, “My gut was always right.”

Rauf considered you for a moment. You thought you could see was a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.

But you were wrong.

“Did your gut tell you to kill Joneta?”

You froze, any hope of getting through to him dissipating and being replaced with…guilt. Your breath was caught in your throat, making you unable to form words.

“Now, that was not a rhetorical question.”

Rauf’s smile made you sick to your stomach. You turned your eyes away from him, unable to keep yourself together as your eyes teared up.

“I know you mean well, Y/N. I do. But you need to know that you can’t just go around breaking rules because it’s what you think is right.” By then, he had made it over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “You’ve been different lately.”

So have you, you thought, but before you could say anything, the door behind you slammed open.

You and Rauf turned to see it was the two guards.“Sir, we found one of the targets lurking around the guild. Some of the new recruits were roughing him up before we brought him in.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You specifically told Geralt to come after an hour, and to leave Jaskier behind. It couldn’t be one of them, could it?

Rauf seemed to be thinking the same thing, as his eyes were glued to you. “Is he dead?”

“No sir. We stopped them before it got too bad. We thought it best to bring him to you to figure out how to deal with it.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Though maybe it would have been better to just kill him there.” You watched as Rauf’s face scrunched in contemplation. Then, he shook his head, “No, no. You were right. Bring him here.”

To say you were holding your breath was an understatement. You and Rauf stood in silence as the sound of grunts echoed from the hallway, nearing closer and closer by the second.

You didn’t want any of this to be real. It didn’t feel real; Rauf treating you this way, the guild becoming something it never was — everything was falling apart, and you couldn’t seem to catch your breath. For once, you felt completely out of control.

As the footsteps got nearer, you silently wished they had left the door open so the suspense couldn’t give you the heart attack it already was. At the same time, you didn’t want to see who the target they had found was. Though, deep down, you already knew.

Finally, the door swung open.

Rauf clapped his hands together, “Well, well. Look who it is.”

One guard held each of his arms as they dragged him into the room.

You almost didn’t recognize him with all the blood. From what you could see, his face was covered in bruises that had already begun to form, blood was soaking into his shirt — whether it was his or the assassins’, you couldn’t tell. His feet were dragging on the floor as the guards brought him in, his head hung over his chest. But despite his injuries, you could hear the low wheezing of labored breathing — he was alive, which was something.

But it wasn’t enough. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms as Rauf walked over and lifted his bloodied chin.

“The famous Jaskier. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

———————————————————————————————————

Sorry for the cliffhanger…but also not >:) let me know your thoughts!

61 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love. I hope you get this one lmao. Can you pls write a Tommy Shelby x Reader where the Reader gets married to Tommy as an arranged marriage as she is a leader of a gang herself? I want it to be something on the lines of how they end up talking all night to each other on their wedding night, sharing their deepest, darkest secrets and they make a pact to each of staying loyal as long as they are married to each other? Here they don't love each other yet.

"So, how did you two meet?"

You and Tommy looked at each other. "I suppose it's a long story."

You weren't lying to your sister. It was, indeed, a long story. It started in your club. The one you'd worked tirelessly to acquire. Sure you ran illegal business out of said club, but that wasn't anyone else's business but your own. Being a woman was tough enough in society, but in the underworld, it was damn near impossible.

So you did your best to keep a strong reputation and keep strong, loyal people around you. It worked for a while. A few years, at least. But as you gained a profit, the sharks began to circle and close in on you.

You suppose you were just lucky that Tommy Shelby managed to get to you first.

It was a normal night. You were in the club, making sure things were running smoothly and schmoozing with the clientele. It was a credit to your personality. Charisma got you close friends and people who enjoyed your company. Stubbornness allowed you to be tough on the people who weren't trying to be friends with you. You garnered a reputation of being a fun person to hang around. But people were wise to stay on your good side. Otherwise, there would be consequences.

Like there were for the man who groped you learned the same night you met Tommy. The second you felt the man's hand, you grabbed his wrist and twisted it so hard, he was on his knees begging for mercy.

When you looked up from your would-be attacker, you found a well-dressed man with a cigarette in hand watching.

"Miss y/n/l, I'm guessing."

You let go of the groper's wrist. "If you'll give me a second, I need to take care of business." You replied before landing a sharp kick to the groper's side. "Get him the fuck out of here." You alerted your security guard who had come over when he heard a commotion. "He ever steps into my club again, I'll bury him under the floorboards."

"Yes, Miss y/l/n."

You finished your drink on the table. "So, who are you?"

"Thomas Shelby. I'm here to make you an offer."

~~~

"Oh, you met at the club, how romantic." Your sister clapped her hands together in glee. Of course, you hadn't told her everything. Your younger sister was the only family member you had left and you kept her out of any illegal business. All she knew was you made money, earning her shopping sprees and trips to Paris and Rome.

"Yeah...romantic."

Tommy side-eyed you. It wasn't romantic. Not at first.

~~~

"You think you can walk into my club and try to buy it off of me?" You scoffed. "You think you're the only person to ever try that?"

Tommy shrugged. "Running a club on your own, not very feasible is it? What would you do if something happened? Who would you turn to? You've no parents."

You narrowed your eyes at him. Of course, if you'd known he was coming, you would've dug up some dirt on him too. But you just had to roll with the punches much like everything else in life. "I assure you, Mr. Shelby, I'm not alone."

"The Tigress Club three blocks down."

The mere mention of the name was enough to put a scowl on your face. The owner always giving you a hard time, disrupting business, and the worst of all, sneering at you and calling you 'little girl'. "What about it?"

"From what I know, they're a thorn in your side," Tommy replied coolly.

"They have been, what's that to you?"

"My brothers aren't here for a reason. They're three blocks away, taking the Tigress Club."

You furrowed your brow. "Taking it? Like they're just walking in and taking it? Are you serious?" You laughed. "That's absolutely mad."

"The club is yours if you enter an agreement with me."

A rush went to your head. Owning the Tigress? After all that hell you went through to keep the owner from taking over your business? What an absolute joy. But you weren't going to just agree to anything. "What sort of agreement?"

"A marriage."

You stared at the man who you'd only just met. "Pardon?" You blinked, wondering if you'd heard him right or if he was just using some sort of slang that you weren't familiar with. But he seemed too serious to use slang and you were certain you'd heard the word correctly. "Marriage? With you?"

He nodded as if he were only asking for a cigarette.

"Wh-so you-I marry you and you give me ownership of a club? Why would I agree to that?" You were utterly flustered. Some handsome stranger had really walked in, offered you a gift of a club, and then proposed marriage out of the blue. You felt as if you were in some sort of fever dream.

"It'll be mutually beneficial. You get the club, as well as other ownerships. I'll be able to aid in your smuggling operation."

"So, what? You're looking for control over this area of London or something? If you're able to just walk into clubs and take them, then why not just do that? Or why don't we just sign a contract?" You thought marriage seemed to be a few steps past what was the norm.

"Because I've had allies before who have turned into enemies. I'm not wasting any more time with people I can't trust." Tommy answered. And he appeared genuinely serious about the matter.

You studied his expression for a bit before crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in your leather desk chair. "Uh-huh. I think I've just figured you out, Mr. Shelby." You reported.

He didn't seem fazed and only nodded in amusement. "You think?"

"I leave people talking about me, I know that. Word must've gotten to you about a woman running her own club in a favorable part of London. A part you want to be in control of. But you also know about the Tigress. Run by someone else who is capable albeit a total pain in the arse. So who do you approach and who do you send your brothers after?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem with that?"

"I think you made the right choice. But girls like to be courted a bit before they're proposed to. And I also like reading a contract before I agree to anything. So why don't you make some effort then come back and we'll talk again."

~~~

"So sweet, you knew you wanted to marry her the first time you met?" Your sister practically swooned at the ideal situation you two were conjuring up.

"Er, well yes," Tommy answered because technically it wasn't a lie.

"But he had to prove himself." You sent him a subtle smirk.

~~~

He did. He visited twice a week, every week for the next three months. He brought legal contracts about the Tigress, now under his ownership, as he said. In return, you gave him a prenuptial agreement.

The hilarity of it all was not lost on you. But after your first meeting with Tommy, you sat up all night wondering what you should do with the offer. Sometimes having the reputation you did didn't lead to a very successful love life. Men were either intimidated by your power or afraid of ever pissing you off. Maybe this was your last chance at ever finding someone. Not to mention, it was someone who understood the work you did, understood the sacrifices you made, and damn it if he wasn't nice to look at. Beyond your shallow thoughts, you found him to be more respectable than most men in your line of work. He didn't treat you like a toy, an object, or a joke. He didn't think it was cute that you were trying to own a club. Didn't patronize you.

When everything was settled with business, you agreed to the marriage. At some points in your agreement, you wondered if you'd gone crazy. Wondered what possessed you to make such an arrangement. But on the other hand, you knew that your life was far from typical. You enjoyed the unorthodox, you weren't going to be some wife sitting at home tending to the children. But you didn't want to end up alone either. You figured Tommy was a good medium.

~~~

"Well, that's such a nice story. I'm so glad y/n has finally found the one." Your sister roped you into a tight hug.

"I know." You forced a smile, feeling majorly uncomfortable with all the lies you just told her. But as long as she assumed the best in you, she lived a happy existence. That's all you ever wanted for her.

~~~

From there, your sister coordinated with the Shelby family to put the wedding together. The closer the date got, the more nervous you became. Sure you'd gotten to know Tommy, but on a very shallow level. It was hard to know him better when you were both so busy with regular work on top of planning a wedding.

When the day came, you oddly woke up with a sense of peace. Your stomach wasn't in knots, your palms were sweaty, and you didn't have the overwhelming urge to run. That peace maintained all the way to the altar. Maybe it was just a sign that it was meant to be.

When Tommy lifted the veil from your face, you found yourself staring back at the blue eyes that had been sneaking into your dreams the last few nights. For a moment, you forgot to breathe. Was this really the man you were marrying? It was hard to trace back how you'd gotten there, but in that briefest of moments, before the preacher began to speak, you felt so happy. It was strange happiness, a happiness that you wondered if was valid or not. But at the end of the ceremony, you realized happiness was happiness. You were getting what you wanted. And if the bonus addition was falling in love, then you were ready for that.

~~~

Later on in the reception, you excused yourself to find Tommy. He was outside in the garden smoking a cigarette.

It was still hard to believe the house you now lived with him. Having a flat in London to now living in an estate with acres of open land. But there were a lot of things you had to get used to.

You sat down next to Tommy and he offered you a cigarette. You stuck it between your lips and leaned forward so he could light it for you.

"Tired of my family yet?" Tommy asked with a small smile.

"No, they're lovely." You replied after a drag. "I think we'll get along well. They know how to party."

He chuckled. "That they do." He agreed.

You both looked out into the night, watching the sky fade to black. Some fireflies danced across the lawn, almost blinking to the sounds around them. Night birds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

"My parents used to bring my sister and me out to the countryside every summer." You remembered. The scent of clean air brought out memories that you hadn't unearthed in years. "Not in a house like this." You laughed. "Just a little cottage."

"We were always on the road in the summer," Tommy said. "There was nothing better than camping outside and just..." He shrugged and shook his head. "Getting away from all that shit in the city."

"You lose touch of a lot of things." You agreed.

Silence fell over you again. Then, Tommy stubbed his cigarette out on the gravel. "What was your favorite game to play as a kid?" He asked.

You smiled. "Oh, I'm not sure I mean...we jumped rope. I was pretty good at that."

He rolled his eyes. "God, Ada would always make us spin the rope for her, it was exhausting."

"That's sweet, what a good older brother." You cooed.

"I swear sometimes I still have shoulder aches from that." He muttered.

"I'm pretty sure you got more injuries from riding horses than spinning rope." You teased.

"Well...I suppose."

"What was your first horse?"

There wasn't even a time for hesitation because Tommy knew it all by heart. "First one I rode was Hank. Little Welsh pony." He held his hand up. "Maybe twelve hands, if that. Stubborn little git. Dumped me off so many times."

You smiled and moved closer to him so you could rest your head on his shoulder. "Tell me more." You requested.

Tommy paused and you could almost feel him looking at you, trying to decipher the gesture. But he didn't say anything. He only wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "First one I officially owned...I guess that was Gus. He was a Morgan, well built. Best connection I've had with a horse..."

Both of you forgot there was even a party going on in the house behind you. You were too busy talking. You talked the entire night without a long pause. That same peaceful feeling overcame you. An indication that you were in the right place.

#ugly crying asks

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on-fic-writing-spree · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 11: Pride

Notes: Pride is just a manipulative bitch, I dunno what else to say about that lmao

Word count: 3129 words

Written with the help of @justfor2am !!!

Next Chapter: TBA

Find the rest of the story here!

——————

Roman was barely conscious for everything that had followed, and was only half aware that her wrists were bound in cold metal against a wall. The room was so dimly lit she could hardly see, but that mattered little right now. She had to escape, but his magic was so wore down, there was almost nothing left. Roman pulled as hard as he could against his chains but it made no difference, and trying to summon anything only left her feeling more exhausted.

The new side, still to be named, had waited for a few more hours to continue their plan. Roman was ridden of, and as long as nobody went looking for him, they could get away with whatever else they needed to. What they hadn’t expected was for Patton to mistake them for Roman, making some overly-excited comment about the new outfit. Not that they had minded, rather enjoying the compliments that Patton showered them in, and made no move to argue that they weren’t Roman. ‘Roman’ asked Patton where Virgil had been, and after receiving an answer, hurried off to find him. Now is Virgil mistook them for Roman... well this could go horribly well or awfully perfect.

Meanwhile, Virgil was still holed away in their new room, having carefully pulled its things out and making the space feel a little bit more like home… or at least, what they felt home was supposed to be like. They were surprised to have Roman return to them so quickly, and the fear of being cast out stirred up inside themself again from where they stood by the window. And yet, part of it was almost happy to see Roman again. “Hey again, is everything alright?” they asked.

‘Roman’ had nodded and flashed a happy smile at Virgil. “I hope you’re finding everything to be adequate for the time being... I’ve been working on a little something for you since I heard you’d be coming around. Are you still settling in?” they promoted, holding out their hand to Virgil. “I know we got off to a rocky start, and this doesn’t really make up for it, but I was hoping it could be a start,” they murmured, glancing a bit away from Virgil, almost looking ashamed. “I don’t know how interested you are, but I’d like to start over. If that’s alright with you?” they finished with, looking back to Virgil again.

Virgil had been a little taken aback, to tell the truth. The idea that Roman would ever want to touch them, let alone offering first was dizzying enough, but to put in the effort to make them feel more comfortable was… nice, actually. Really nice. “I… I would really like that, actually,” it said, taking Roman’s hand with a tentative grip, light enough to still pull away. “To be honest, I’m still trying to get used to all of this, but I do want to get to know you better,” they said, unable to fight the shadow of a crooked smile on its face.

‘Roman’ grinned softly at the response, pulling Virgil close and giving them a little spin before starting to walk, moving their fingers to intertwine with Virgil’s. “Well I’m more than happy to tell you anything you’d like to know. Come on, it’s just down through here,” they said cheerily, stepping down some rustic looking spiraled stairs. Roman hadn’t ever bothered to actually fix them up, since the area never got used. The new figment lead Virgil to a room with a wooden door, grabbing out a key and unlocking it before pushing it open, standing out of the way to let Virgil walk in.

As Virgil followed, they felt like their entire head was going to combust from ‘Roman’s’ suave movements alone, and they held on a little tighter than before as the two walked toward’s their next destination. It was slightly confused at first, but upon walking into the room, Virgil could feel their voice being swept away. Before their eyes was a lush and ornate garden, and there was a twinkle in the air that made Virgil’s chest tighten up with anticipation, and their head felt foggy. But realism still itched at the back of Virgil’s mind, despite Virgil’s desire to ignore it. “I don’t understand… what’s all this for?” It asked, turning to face ‘Roman’, a mix of glee and worry stirring up inside. They weren’t exactly sure what kind of answer they were hoping for or were expecting honestly.

Sighing softly, ‘Roman’ began to speak again. “I was really shitty to you before, and I just... wanted to make sure you felt welcome here. You didn’t deserve the things I said to you,” they murmured. “Truthfully, I wish I could’ve been more like you. You’re so strong, Virgil, and smart too,” they complimented, a soft look on their face. Glancing back at the garden, they seemed to perk up some. “Oh I almost forgot! I haven’t even shown you the best part,” they said, before hurriedly running ahead through some doorways made out of large bushes, looking like it was just out of a movie. The soon stopped, grinning softly and gesturing, where quite a few cuddly animals roamed the grass.

Any more compliments and Virgil might never shake off the pinky hue their face had taken on. They were grateful for ‘Roman’s’ sudden burst of excitement, and trailed after, not-so-subtly fanning their face. But whatever else the other side had been saying was lost on Virgil’s ears. A small rabbit hopped towards Virgil’s feet, and they scooped the little thing up with a cautious hand, beaming. “You really didn’t have to do all of this,” it mumbled, the delightful fogginess from before setting in again. “But it’s really sweet of you, thank you.”

“Well of course I had to,” ‘Roman’ murmured sheepishly. “It’s worth it to see you so happy. Besides, the blush is a nice bonus,” they flirted lightly. They took a seat on the ground, letting a few of the rabbits jump towards them, smiling some and petting them. “There’s a few things I have to attend to. Would you mind staying here a while? I’ll come back with lunch and we can have a little picnic, get to know each other a bit better?” they offered.

Virgil nodded, almost too eagerly; there was just something about how ‘Roman’ was behaving that they couldn’t place that made them feel wanted. “Yeah, of course! I’ll wait for you, I mean, there’s so much to look around at…” they trailed off, mesmerized by the view. Virgil would wait happily as long as ‘Roman’ wanted to, with how safe this place felt. It could hardly remember why it was nervous about being around the other in the first place.

Smiling at the response, ‘Roman’ stood up again. “I’ll see you again soon, my little meadowsweet. Feel free to look around—there’s plenty I didn’t show you.” They left with a hum, shutting the door behind them. They didn’t lock it—the illusion of choice and comfort for Virgil, it was just easier that way. And besides, the others would question if they heard Virgil shouting. That’s the last thing they wanted. They stepped into Roman’s cell, ready to patronize the other as a grin seeped across their face. “Getting cozy there Roman?” they asked. “Don’t worry, I’ve already taken care of Virgil, nobody’s questioned where you went. They all think I’m you... must say something about you, doesn’t it?”

Roman glared up at them. “You won’t get away with this, whatever the hell you are, you can’t keep this game up forever.” Even with his brazen words, it was obvious that Roman was still recovering from… god knows what this other creature did to him. His eyes lacked their usual spark, and the lack of blood flow to his arms wasn’t exactly helpful either.

“Oh but Roman, I already am,” they answered with a grin.

“So what’re you going to do with me, then? Am I no longer the thorn in your side that I was? ‘Cause if you let me out, I can show just how much of a pain I could have been,” Roman snarled.

“Good to know I didn’t take any of that hideous anger. I’m not sure yet, I rather enjoy being prince. I think king fits me better though, don’t you?” they asked, tapping their index finger against their chin. “Maybe I’ll keep you here and just take your place. No one would dare to question a king, you made it so they wouldn’t. Ah yes, that would do nicely,” they hummed, pacing the room slowly. “Oh and by the way... Virgil’s happy, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know. The poor thing doesn’t have a clue what hit it. Nobody will find it again...”

At the mention of Virgil, Roman yanked harshly against her chains again, “What the hell did you do with them?! Where are they, you better fucking tell me right now!” He shouted, eyes sparking red if only for a feeble moment. “You are no king, just a fool and a liar playing dress up. This isn’t your world to play with, and if you think for a second no one will catch on, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

The trait merely laughed at the response. “Oh Roman, poor poor Roman, I think you forget... I’m still you. They don’t think any different. They have no reason to,” they answered. “You may call me the fool, but I at least know how to use the way Virgil feels about us to my advantage. Funny that you didn’t notice before, it’s in love with you,” the murmured, looking amused as they looked at their nails. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to tell you though, seeing as you nor it are getting out anytime soon. Virgil’s in its own little magic forest... it’ll be lost on its own soon enough.”

A million and one questions were running through Roman’s mind at the moment, from the point that Virgil loved him to the magic forest. She shook her head and glared back up at the other. “You’re horrible using them like that! Let me remind you that Virgil has yet to do anything that warrants this sort of treatment!” She gritted her teeth, “You’re a bully, and a prick, and the most obnoxious son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Virgil wasn’t anything in the first place. It was a mere mistake. We should’ve ridded it earlier, and you know that as much as I do, but I guess it makes me the bad guy to be honest about it;” they muttered.

Roman sighed, resting her head against the wall. “But can I ask for one thing, since you’re so clearly acting as the high-and-mighty king right now?”

“What is it Roman?” the trait asked, bored by the question. “Hurry along now, I did promise Virgil a lovely lunch. Poor thing is eating right out of the palm of my hand you know.”

“Two things, and don’t lie and tell me you’re actually eager to get back to them,” Roman snarked. “First things first, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling with that outfit, but it’s loud for even my tastes. I mean, black with ruby accents? You, my formidable foe, look like an emo nightmare, and not in the good way,” she started, testing the waters, trying to get a rise out of this strange side. “And, for my question, could you get a little closer? I know you must find my voice annoying, and I’m sure a whisper would be much less grating on your ears.”

“I’m far from eager about it, though Virgil certainly misses me,” they remarked, a grin on their face. “And perhaps I don’t look exactly like you, but a look change is easy,” they added with a shrug, simply snapping their fingers as their appearance shifted. “Though I’m certain I look twice as good as you either way,” they finished. Despite their words; they indulged in Roman’s request, coming closer and kneeling in front of her, waiting for the response.

Roman grinned, and blew a raspberry in the other’s face. He was nothing if not a child at heart. “Fuck you, and fuck everything you stand for. As soon as Virgil realizes you’re not me, they’re going to flip their shit, and it’s not going to be pretty. You’d be lucky if you escape with all of your limbs intact.” He knew Virgil wasn’t violent in the slightest, but the other didn’t need to know that. “And you still look like a freak show,” he quipped. “Maybe it’s the stupid smirk on your face, you look much better without one,” Roman taunted, mildly amused by himself for actually pulling such a stupid stunt off.

The trait gritted their teeth, wiping the spit from their face. “Roman, you keep forgetting, you’re not the only part it fell in love for,” they muttered, wiping the spit off on their pants. “Even if the paranoid freak figures it out, do you really think I’m stupid enough to let it out? It wouldn’t dare hurt me. At best, it would feel bad for causing such horrors to us, and I’ll make sure it knows it’s all its fault. No amount of reassuring from you will fix that.”

“You motherfucking—“ Roman started off blazing with anger again, but cut himself off. Her shoulders sank once more as the wheels in her head finished turning. “You’re doing this just because you can. There’s no rhyme or reason, is there? You just want the world, and to step on whomever doesn’t fit your idea of it. There isn’t a drop of remorse in your body, is there?” She wasn’t looking at them anymore, but at the floor as she pieced everything together. “And, even so, I still don’t know what to call you. You’re not Cruelty or I’d be way worse off, you’re not Hatred or Anger…”

“Oh don’t fool yourself, Roman, I don’t step on what I do for no reason. Virgil wasn’t part of the plan, we both know that. Logan’s lovely, I wouldn’t dare to hurt him. But I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to do the same with Remus,” they shrugged. “Simply put, mistakes don’t belong in my world, and as long as I’m living, it is my world.”

“You think you’re perfect,” Roman mumbled, and he almost laughed. “Logan and Remus are almost the most polar opposite sides you could have compared, of course you like Logan. They’re efficient and quiet and do as they’re told. Remus is anything but those things.” He looked back up at the other. “The only thing that matters to you is for everything to be exactly the way you want it, because obviously your way is better than anyone else’s.” Roman stared them in the eye, “You’re arrogant and see no flaws in anything you do. A perfectionist through and through… I know you’re name. You’re Pride.”

“Pride, huh?” the villain grinned. “I like that actually. It suits me well. Well... whatever this may be, I have something to be tending to,” he hummed. “Ta-ta, Roman. Oh, and don’t let me catch you mumbling to yourself anymore, yeah? Be a shame if I’d have to silence you,” he remarked, stepping out the barred door and locking it behind him.

Roman waited to the count of twenty before returning to his struggle against those dammed chains. He had to get out of here, Roman didn’t want that slime ball of a side nosing anywhere around his creations. The clattering of his shackles resounded in his cell, and Roman let his arms fall back against the wall. Whatever charm was on this place, it kept him from using any of his powers. So, she resorted to the only other option left, as humiliating as it was. “Hello?! Is anyone there?!” he shouted into the air.

Virgil had been humming softly as it pet the animals, peaceful and content. Well, at least until it heard some rattling. It stood up, taking one of the bunnies with it and carefully started stepping towards the noises. They had done some exploring, but not much without ‘Roman,’ not wanting to get lost. But curiosity got the best of it, and it couldn’t help being a little concerned about the noises it approached. It hadn’t made out the words that the person had said, but knocked lightly on the stone wall, which was covered in vines and leaves. “Hello?” they called quietly, still nervous as their heart pounded, pulling the bunny a little closer to their chest.

Roman flinched; to be entirely honest, she didn’t think that would work. But it was this particular voice that mattered more to Roman in this moment, and she leaned as forward against her chains as she could, speaking again, “Hello?! Virgil, is that you? Say something, anything, are you alright? They haven’t hurt you, have they?” she asked frantically.

“Ro... man? Woah, woah, wait, slow down—what do you mean?” Virgil was trying to wrap their head around half the words Roman had said, and frankly, they were failing miserably. The kneeled down next to the wall, setting down the bunny gently, that cuddled up to their thigh. “Has who hurt me? Nobody’s hurt me Roman—what happened to you? I thought you said you had some things to take care of then you’d be back...” Virgil wasn’t exactly sure if they should be scared, concerned, or just bluntly hurt, and somehow, they managed to be all three.

“I’m trapped somewhere, you have to to help get me out of here!” Roman answered quickly. “The place you are in now isn’t safe, you’re going to get lost in there forever if you don’t find a way out now. There’s someone walking about that looks just like me, their name is Pride, you cannot under any circumstances trust them! They locked me up, and I’m not strong enough right now to get out on my own. Please, Virgil, I need your help.”

Virgil froze up a bit at that. “Oh.” The response hung heavy in the air. They knew Roman couldn’t have just been being nice to them, of course he couldn’t. They were foolish for ever believing there was any good will to it. Still, even though it stung, Virgil couldn’t help hoping that it wasn’t true. “And all the rabbits, and hand holding... oh...” Virgil continued quietly, trying to connect the dots. They took a deep breath, doing their best not to cry. “I want to trust you, I want to say you’re the real Roman, I do but—given what you just told me, how can I even trust you?” they asked.

——————

Tag List (ask to be added)

@genderfluidmoma

@sinuous-scakt

@youremotionallystablefriend

@alinatheanimelover

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #creativity sanders #fanfic

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poptod · 4 years ago

Note

hey there! hope i’m not bothering u. maybe a snafu x reader after the war where he tries to impress them at a bar with war stories but y/n was an air force pilot and it turns into a debate of who was more badass during the war? sweet at the end maybe? i’m addicted to ur writing lmao. thanks again for always answering my requests!

notes: not a problem at all :) unfortunately the power has been out at my house for a day or two so this is a tad late, but youve got fun ideas so i dont mind writing them at all. hope you like this one too

It had to be past midnight – somehow despite that fact, you were still wide awake. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't taken your sleeping pills, or the pounding loud shouts of the bar's drunken patrons, but you did not lag behind your friend. She'd dragged you there, saying something about getting free drinks since she was banging the bartender. Before either of you knew it, she was off flirting with another man (which the bartender did not like), and you were ordering your third drink. Not the most you'd drunk in one night, not even close, but it was enough to give you a pleasant buzz, allowing you to relax against the bar counter and look out across the crowd.

Within the next several hours most of the crowd had filed out, making way for a new wave of soldiers, ones that had just arrived home and were celebrating their life still belonging to themselves. You were once part of that menagerie; the only difference was you had become a marine before the war ever started, and while you were there for the beginnings of the war, your contract with the marine corps ended soon after. It left you feeling apart from both citizens and soldiers – someone who didn't know the horrors of war, but who was traumatized enough that society didn't care to love them anymore.

Unlike many returning soldiers, you did not turn to alcohol to fix your issues. For the most part you distracted yourself with work, working and working till there was nothing in your head but work – there was little else in your life besides work now, the one exception being your friend, Penny. She made sure you ate, made sure you got outside and had human contact. For that you will always be grateful.

Your attention wavers from her only when one of the returning soldiers stands right beside you at the bar, ordering a bottle of beer before noticing you, his posture suddenly changing as he does so. His back straightens out a little, his hips a little more forward, elbows on the bar behind him so as to show off toned forearms and a skinny waist. He stares for a little while – you pay him no mind. When he gets his drink, that's when he actually speaks to you.

"What's a doll like you doin' here?" He says, and you almost roll your eyes. What a typical start.

"Keepin' a friend company," you answer him quietly, taking a swig of your own drink. It's not entirely a lie, although you feel you're keeping less and less of her company the more she drifts off to the side, caught up in the stare of a rather handsome man with a fair amount of scruff.

"Really? You come here often? I'm - jus' curious. I've never been here before," he says, clarifying that he isn't that stupid so as to use that specific line, a clarification you appreciate.

"This is my first time. My friend though, she comes here often, says she likes the atmosphere," you tell him, nodding in the direction of Penny, who is currently in a corner with the stranger. "You're a soldier, right?"

"Yessir," he says with a proud nod, "just returnin', actually."

You nod absently, looking out across the general crowd before you at last meet his eye. In the neon red lights you can barely see him, the shape of his face against the black mass of people, the color of his eyes against long eyelashes that flutter when he scans you up and down. All you can tell about him is his voice – rough and deep, drawling his words and humming his thoughts.

"You meet many marines?" He asks, and you can already tell he's gearing up to tell you some horrid stories of the war. Unfortunately, you don't know him well enough yet to know if he's going to tell you the truth, and a small part of you hopes he doesn't tell the truth. The truth is gorey and dangerous and heartbreaking, and you're not ready to live out such memories and tales again. Not yet.

"I've met a few," you say vaguely, watching the way a grin cracks across his face as he chuckles smooth and low.

"All I gotta say is you're lucky I ain't no army kid, those assholes are weak as all hell," he says, something you fully agree with, and something that has a sweet giggle coming involuntarily out of you. He smiles even bigger when he watches the way you laugh.

"My father was a marine," you say, coming down from your high. "He said the same thing."

"He's right, y' know... me n' my troop, we was out on that godforsaken island in the Pacific, hot as hell every day – humid, too. We saw hell n' back, shootin' at Japs n' gettin' shot at, sitting in all those damn trenches, up to ya knees in mud, and there go the fuckin' army soldiers, prancing around like goddamn deer. Funniest shit I ever seen, though to be fair, I don't think any a' us had much to eat that day," he recalls fondly, but you can tell he's suppressing the worse memories. You don't ask on that – it'd be rude, and it's not a subject you want to talk about. Nonetheless, he continues. "An you know, you're sittin' in mud all day n' night, you're gonna get pretty dirty, right?"

You nod attentively. If there's one thing you're still good at after your time in the marine corps, it's listening well.

"So we're all covered in mud, and they come by in a neat row, with their freshly washed hair and white as all hell skin – I made a bet with this one fella, Burgie, a' said they'd get so sunburnt after a week on that island, they'd be cryin'. I was right, of course," he says, motioning with his hands as he told the story. At the end he rubs his nose and turns back to you, watching for your reaction, and loving the way you still manage to enjoy his story.

"So you're tellin' war stories now?" You ask, leaning in closer and smirking imperceptibly when his breath catches in his throat. "What's your best story, then?"

He doesn't skip a beat, another one of those sweetly impure smiles coming across him as he starts.

"Hell, there's a lot to choose from. I do remember though," his hand comes up to his shirt collar, unconsciously toying with it, "this one Jap snuck into our camp, still don't know how, but he was one a' those damn kamikaze soldiers, the radical ones. He shouted somethin', don't remember what, but everyone went for their guns – I did too, an' we all pointed at his chest, cause it's easier to aim that way, y'know? But the bombs were tied to his chest, so a' aimed at the head. Shot him dead center between his eyes," he tells you with an air of pride and a hint of disgust. You don't blame him.

"That's a good story," you say with a small smile.

Anticipation creeps up on you as you wait till he's done prattling off little details, just waiting till you can watch the light die in his eyes as you tell him your own war story.

"I think my best marine story would have to be when I was flyin' over this active war field, there's fighter pilots everywhere in the sky, and sometimes it's hard to tell which jet belongs to which side in the moment. Everythin' goes by fast, but I saw this Jap flagged plane drop a bomb the size of a whole person. Immediate reaction was to shoot at the bomb, and I got pretty lucky – it blew up midair, and I was far enough it didn't hurt me," you say, unable to stop a grin from coming to you when the man slowly realizes that he's talking to another marine.

"Oh, you're a marine too, ain't you?" He says, but it's not a question – no, it sounds more like a challenge, and one you're completely willing to participate in. "Where you stationed?"

"I was in Hawaii at first," you say quietly, and he immediately gets the implication. Although you both now know what you saw, and the topic is in your heads, neither of you explore that further. "Later got stationed at some place in the Pacific. Like you. Though, I was on the ocean, not an island."

"What's your kill count?" He asks, and he leans forward just a little bit, drawing closer to you.

"Does it really matter?" You ask in return.

"'Course it does. You gonna be out here tellin' me you didn't count?"

"I didn't," you say truthfully. "A bit hard to see how many y' kill from a thousand feet in the air."

"Y'ever do parachute drops?"

"Once," you say. "Did you?"

"Nah, parachute drops ain't nothin' compared to the shit I did," he says, dismissing the notion as if it wasn't important. Now he's trying to impress you – again.

"Really?" You ask, almost sarcastic, but you manage to hold that part back. "What is it that you did then that was so much more terrifying and dangerous than freefalling through the atmosphere?"

"Try carryin' mortars on ya back in searing heat, n' all the while you n' ya company's out takin' a little hike 'cross a whole island filled with Japs," he says cockily, angling his chin upwards in a motion that accentuates his already sharp-as-hell jawline.

"Wow, a whole island," you say sarcastically, but he sees the humor behind it.

"Hey, Japan's an island too an' they big enough that they got the whole nation in uproar," he points out.

"Whatever makes you feel better," you say, taking a sip of your drink.

"What's your rank anyway?" He asks as he puts his drink on the counter, crossing his arms.

"I'm a major," you say, and once again the light dies in his eyes. You almost want to spare him the embarrassment of telling you his own rank, but you are curious, and it's just too fun to let him off. "What's your rank?"

"... corporal," he answers quietly, and you have to hold back a laugh. You try really hard, you really do, just so hard not to laugh, but you end up snorting anyway, and you can't even begin to work on your smile.

"Alright, corporal," you say, still trying not to laugh. Placing your own drink down on one of the bar coasters you turn to him, curling his loose tie around one of your hands and pulling him forward, practically devouring his nervous delight. "Y' really wanna play this game?"

"I'm the one who started it, ain't I?" He says, and you admire his tenacity to talk back to a superior officer.

"What's your full name and title, Corporal?"

"Corporal Merriel Shelton," he answers softly, his eyes suddenly stuck on the words that form on your blushing lips. "Ma' friends jus' call me Snafu, though."

"Mmm," you hum, looking him up and down much like he'd done to you earlier, "the hell you do to earn that kind a' name?"

"Oh, I'm just reckless, baby," he says with a smirk, gaining the confidence needed to lean into your touch more. You can feel his hips almost pressed against yours, the feeling doing nothing but making you pull his tie even more, a smile beginning to tug at the edges of your lips.

"Mind showin' me?"

"Not at all," he says in the impossibly low voice of his, and with that you're his, if only for the evening.

#merriel snafu shelton #snafu x reader #the pacific hbo #rami malek #rami malek character #gender neutral reader

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rainbowserenity · 5 years ago

Note

1. “Do you want me to leave?” - Hopurai

royal!AU tag

my intention with this AU was for it to be a bunch of oneshots that could be read separately….but this is the installment that makes me wish I’d had the foresight to just make it into a multichapter fic 8D;if you don’t want to go in blindly, I would HIGHLY recommend (re?)reading at least the previous installment before the this one. all the fics are in the above linked tag, or they’re in a collection on AO3 here

sorry for being so ridiculous lmao

*****

Therewas such a strange disconnect from staring outside the windows of thepalace as opposed to when she’d had to stare out of a hole in theceiling back when she’d been living in the slums. Back then, she’d belooking up into the smog-covered sky, trying against all odds to seethe stars that the fal'cie would bring at night.

Now,sitting in her office, she could literally look down on so much ofEden since the palace towered over pretty much everything except thefal'cie Phoenix itself. It was weird, to say the least.

Well,she supposed it was no stranger than Lightning Farron, former soldierand resident of the slums, being discovered as Eden’s long-lostprincess.

Lightningfrowned slightly as she watched people go about their daily business.From up here, they looked like ants. It was hard to believe that somecould be struggling or confused or going through heartbreak…

Notthat she’d know anything about heartbreak. At all. Nope.

“Hey,you finished yet?”

Witha sigh, Lightning pulled her gaze away from the window and stared atSazh, who was officially her adviser, but really played the role of ababysitter. It was insulting if she thought about it too much. “Doesit look like I’ve finished?”

“True.”Sazh waltzed up to her desk and pointedly stared at the pile ofpapers. “'Cause if you had finishedthis incredibly easy task, I bet you would’ve found me already andclaimed that poor ol’ Sazh was overworked and needed a vacation - ”

“Itried to give you a vacation after the ball,” Lightning pointedout, raising an eyebrow. “You told me I’d probably set the palaceon fire if you left for a day.”

“AndI’m probably right!”

“Doubtful.”Lightning rolled her eyes and tapped her pen against the papers infront of her a few times. “I’m fairly sure that I, a grown adultwho’s been taking care of herself since she was a teenager, couldeasily manage without you for a few days.”

“Keeptellin’ yourself that.” Sazh picked up one of the papers. “Whichone are you working on?”

“Theletter to Vanille.” DiaVanille had been an important guest at Lightning’s introduction balla few days ago. It was a gathering that had officially presented heras Eden’s princess, which, in turn, would hopefully open up newrelations. Now she was supposed to be writing letters of intent toget people on her side with whatever she planned to do as regent.

Despitefinding the whole practice completely ridiculous, Lightning actuallyhad gotten along fairly well with the Duchess of Luxerion, Vanille.She had to wonder if this was partially because her bodyguard wasfriends with the Duchess and that made it easier to like her.

Or…formerbodyguard, she supposed.

“Keepit short and sweet,” Sazh advised. “Vanille’s not much for longletters.”

“Andyou think I am?”

“Justlet me dream a little, geez. Kids these days.”

Lightningrolled her eyes again, her mind wandering to the ball. Chatting withVanille and her girlfriend Fang, the Princess of Oerba…dancing in adress that glittered with an obnoxious amount of diamonds…steppingonto the balcony with -

Ugh,okay, definitely not goingthere.

Aftera pause where she wrote a few words, Lightning glanced up. Sazh wasscribbling something in a book – probably grading her on heretiquette, hmph. “Was there something else you needed?”

“Yes,as a matter of fact.” Sazh stopped writing and plopped into a chairwithout any grace. If she’d done the same, he would’ve recoiled inhorror. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk after the ball.Gotta say, I’m impressed with how you handled things.”

“Itwas a glorified dance. Not too difficult.”

Thatwas a lie and they both knew it. Lightning had grown up in a suburbof Eden and then spent her teenage years in the slums – she’d neverbeen to any sort of dance, never mind a ball of the caliber that’dbeen held in her honor. Beingparaded around like a doll had been one of the most difficult thingsshe’d ever done. Luckily, she’d met Vanille and Fang very early onduring the night and their new-foundfriendship had made goingthrough the motions much easier.

Therewas someone else who’d helped out, but she preferred not to think toohard about that.

“Yeah,yeah.” Sazh waved a hand. “Keep tellin’ yourself that. And tellme your thoughts –anybody there you think we could strengthen an alliance with? Or formone? Technically, Eden’s always been on good terms with the otherkingdoms since Phoenix is the most important fal'cie, but there’salways room for improvement. See any of that? Or…” He raised aneyebrow. “Any potential suitors?”

Lightningducked her head, hoping against everything that the heat she feltsimmering under her skin was from a…hot flash or something. Yeah,that totally made sense. She wasn’t about to blush atthe thought of a certain personal bodyguard taking her to see astar-filled sky and light-studded city. There was definitely nothought of his hands on her, his lips caressing hers…

��Nosuitors,” she finally said, clearing her throat and daring to lookup. At least her face felt normal. “Serah seemed to like the Patronof Yusnaan, though.” She frowned.

“What,you got a problem with him?” Sazh looked faintly amused. “I knowhe’s just a kid, but then again, so are you.”

“Hejust seemed…” Lightning shook her head. There were only a fewwords she could think of to describe Snow Villiers, and none of themwere all that flattering. “But we’ve been on particularly goodterms with Yusnaan, so it doesn’t really matter. Fang seemed to likeme, so maybe we can strengthen ties with Oerba.”

“Thatgirl’s an odd one.” Sazh leaned back in his chair, looking lost inthought. “I’m pretty sure all she really gives a damn about isVanille. For awhile, it was lookin’ like Oerba and Luxerion wouldofficially join forces, possibly to try and topple Eden and take overPhoenix.”

Lightningraised her eyebrows. “Could they do that?”

“Probably.Ain’t like the fal'cie care that much.”

Shehad no idea if that was true. Lightning had yet to see Phoenix inperson since being found as the princess of Eden. “Do you thinkFang was trying to get on my good side, then? And then betray me whenleast expected?”

“Nahhh.If Vanille liked you, then Fang’s sure as hell not gonna mess withyou or anybody in Eden. And trust me, Vanille is as genuine as theycome. Kinda hard to believe she’s royalty sometimes.” Sazh sighedin exasperation. “I’ve worked with so many of you kids over theyears that I wonder if you all share the same stick up your ass.”

Insteadof biting back with a retort, Sazh’s comment made Lightning asksomething she’d been wondering for awhile. “That’s right – bothFang and Vanille said that they knew you. You were an adviser forsome members of the old family, too.”

“Gladto see you pay attention when I talk.”

“Thatdoesn’t make much sense, though,” Lightning continued, ignoringSazh’s comment. “You’re not even twice my age. You said you’ve beenserving the old family for years, but if you served Fang and Vanilletoo…”

“Inever told you?” Now Sazh looked confused, but also a littleconcerned. It was very strange to see him with an expression towardsher that wasn’t exasperation. “Huh, guess I wouldn’t have at thebeginning. And things have been so crazy with the ball andeverything…”

“Toldme what?”

Sazhundid the top two buttons of his shirt and tugged it down a bit. Itwas still hidden under some fabric, but there were a bunch oftelltale lines and intersecting arrows that made Lightning sit ramrodstraight in her chair, eyes widening a bit. She knew what it meantbefore Sazh even said the words.

“I’ma l'cie.”

Thestories had spread among the slums – scary children’s tales thatwould send Serah crying into her arms in fear. L'cie were warriorschosen by fal'cie and sent to fight their battles, using magic farmore powerful and horrifying than the average person was capable of.They would live forever until the fal'cie grew tired of them andended their misery with agony, only to gather new warriors and repeatthe cycle anew.

Sincethere hadn’t been a real war in centuries, l'cie were just terriblestories. Even though Lightning knew they were likely just that –stories – nobody she knew had ever met or been one, so itwas hard to say what was the truth or not.

Itwas true, however – recorded in history books and all –that l'cie were branded when they were made. The lines intersectingon Sazh’s skin perfectly matched what Lightning knew.

“You’re– how - ”

“Ohc'mon, you know damn well I’m not some war machine. I hear thosestories. Most of ‘em are totally untrue. Probably made up by somefanatic or anti-war group back in the day.” Sazh shrugged andbuttoned his shirt, hiding the brand from sight.

“Thenwhat is true?”

“One,we don’t live forever. But it does stretch things out a bit.” Hechuckled. “You pretty much stop physically aging once you’rebranded. Good thing, or I’d have half a century’s worth of gray hairfrom all you kids stressin’ me out.”

Lightningdid not laugh. She still felt something akin to horror, though Sazh’snonchalant attitude and her own logic were calming her down a bit.“But why were you branded? I’ve always heard that l'cie werejust tools for war.”

“LikeI said, stories.” Sazh waved a hand. “Yeah, sure, some were madefor war, but most l'cie are branded to carry out a certain purpose,whether for war or whatever else.”

“Andlet me guess,” Lightning said, her head starting to clear, “yourpurpose is to annoy me?”

“Close.”He chuckled again. “Nah, the old queen’s mother put in a good wordfor me with Phoenix. I kinda fell into the adviser role and the royalfamily was damn impressed. They asked if I wanted to do it forlonger, and well…” He shrugged. “Here I am. ‘Course, I’d go outto ally kingdoms or whatnot. In Duchess Vanille’s case, her parentsdied when she was barely a kid, so I kept an eye on her. I only knowPrincess Fang through her, though.”

“Isee.” And she did, actually. The initial shock had finally wornoff. Honestly, she couldn’t see why someone would want to live foryears and years doing the sort of thing Sazh did, but now she knewhow he was so good at his job…literal years of practice. “And I’mguessing this is common knowledge among the other royals?”

“Well,yeah. I’m everywhere, you know.” He tapped the side of his head.“Can’t do much to hide that.”

“Isuppose not.” Of course she was the last to know…but then again,she always seemed to be the last to know things lately, sowhat did one more thing matter?

“Onthat note, I’ve got some other things I need to do.” The tone inSazh’s voice had gone so serious that it made Lightning glance upfrom her letter and frown in confusion.

“Whatthings?”

“Geez,so nosy.” He shook his head. “Don’t you worry about it. Finishyour letters and I’ll have one of the assistants come in andproofread them.”

Sherolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Hewas already halfway out the door, but still called out as thought heactually had eyes in the back of his head. “I saw that!”

Lightningshook her head and stared back down at her letter to Vanille, tappingher pen against the paper a few times. Even though it’d been quitesome time since she’d been found as Eden’s princess, the formalityand unspoken rules still baffled her. Ever since meeting a bunch ofthem at her introduction ball, however, she’d seen that many of themfound some of the rules and etiquette archaic as well.

Sowhy did they have to do it?

Shesighed heavily and slumped in her chair – a posture that Sazh wouldfrown upon, but for once, she was blessedly alone. Not even a maidwas to be seen, although she could hear people puttering in thehallways outside her office. It was so rare these days she couldactually be by herself. Usually she at least had her personalbodyguard with her…

“No,”she muttered, chiding herself. She would not think about him.She would not wonder where he’d gone after running from her atthe ball, and she would certainly not replay the images oftheir kiss in her mind.

Nope.Not her.

Lightningheaved another sigh and shoved the papers aside, going back tostaring out the window. Concentration was clearly useless, at leastfor now. She may as well take advantage of Sazh not being around todemand her to do stuff.

–

Itwas only a few days later when she got the news.

Shewas in the sitting area of her suite, talking to Serah on the phone –an encrypted, ridiculously secure line, of course. Actually beingable to see her sister would’ve been better, but Serah wascompletely swamped with work at the university and couldn’t get away.

Therewas always, however, time for a phone call.

“Ijust don’t get what you see in him,” Lightning muttered, scribblingin the margins of her scrap paper. She was still working on thoseletters and had been trying to think of good things to say SnowVilliers, Patron of Yusnaan. It was exceedingly difficult.

Forher, anyway.

“He’sso sweet!” Serah basically swooned over the phone. “And don’t youthink he’s handsome? I wonder if he’ll wear the same outfit at myintroduction ball.”

Lightningfrowned. “He’s a big lug that kept stepping on my feet.”

“Notto mention that you can tell he really cares about his people.”Serah kept going on like her sister had said nothing. “Maybe it’sbecause he was elected? I mean, I know you care about everyone in thekingdom, but some of the other royals who have lived it since theywere born….it’s different for them. Don’t you think so?”

Unconsciously,Lightning’s grip on her phone tightened. He’d said that to her morethan once.

Youknow what it’s like on the other side. You’ll be able to bring realchange.

Herstomach fluttered and she willed the door to knock – something,anything to let her know that her personal bodyguard wascoming back.

Knock-knock.

Shestared at the door. Could it be…?

“YourHighness?”

Hershoulders drooped so quickly that she nearly dropped the phone. Sherecognized the quiet voice of Yeul, one of her maids. With a heavysigh, she called out, “Just a moment!”

“Sis?Do you want me to leave?”

“Sorry,Serah.” Lightning heaved another sigh. “I have to go. I’ll callyou back tonight, okay?”

“Okay!I should probably get back to all this homework.” Her tone grewteasing. “You think they’d let a princess catch a break.”

“Ifyou’d wanted to catch any breaks, you wouldn’t have applied to themost prestigious university in the world,” Lightning teased back.“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.Love you!”

“Youtoo.”

Anotherquiet knock sounded at the door. This time, Lightning stood, herposture automatically straight as she smoothed down her clothes. Asthere hadn’t been anything urgent on her schedule for the day, she’dopted for comfortable slacks and a thin cashmere sweater – clothingshe’d take over diamond-studded ball gowns any day.

“Comein.”

Yeulentered the room, dropping into a curtsy. All of the servantscontinued to be ridiculously formal around her, despite herinsistence otherwise. It was sort of why she appreciated Sazh naggingher all the time, though hell would freeze over before she’d admitit.

Andspeak of the devil…

“Mr.Katzroy requests that you join him in the conference room, YourHighness.”

Lightningfrowned, the request immediately striking her as odd. Usually Sazhsought her out himself when he needed something, or at least wouldbring her to whatever room he needed. Especially since this palacewas ridiculously huge and she still didn’t always know her wayaround.

“Conferenceroom?”

“Yes.”Yeul bowed her head. “Allow me to escort you.”

“Sure.”Lightning was all too happy to leave her papers and thoughts ofwriting to Snow behind…although surely whatever Sazh had plannedfor her would be just as annoying.

Itturned out she wasn’t too far off.

Yeulmurmured something into a speaker that was attached to the earpieceshe was wearing, presumably telling her coworkers where she was. Therest of the walk was fairly quiet, which was fine with her. Lightningwas more than okay with staring at the paintings and pricelessartifacts that adorned the walls. A lot of them were portraits of herextremely distant ancestors. Apparently she and Serah would have tosit for portraits at some point and then they’d be on the wallsforever. It was a very weird thought.

Whenthe finally reached the conference room, Yeul curtsied again beforeopening one of the wide doors. “Her Highness, Princess Lightning,has arrived,” she called, her soft voice echoing into the emptyroom.

“Thanks,”Lightning said, nodding at Yeul before she stepped inside. There wasa weird flash of gold that struck Yeul’s eyes, but it was probablyjust glare from all the artifacts around them. Weird.

Theconference room was huge, with tons of folded seats and what lookedlike a stage and podium. It reminded her a bit of a theater withoutthe screen. “Sazh?”

“Overhere.” He was off to the side, where there was a table and somechairs covered with papers. She hurried over to him. “Always makin’an old man wait, huh?”

“Yeah,yeah.” It felt weird to comment on that since now she had a roughidea of just how old Sazh really was. “How come you calledme here?”

“Nobodyever uses this room and I wanted to inform you of something inprivate.”

Instantly,Lightning’s heart began to pound. For whatever reason, her firstthought was of the night of the ball. Had someone seen them out onthe balcony? Was there some protocol about a princess and herbodyguard sharing a kiss?

“It’sabout your coronation.”

Shelet out a huge breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding,slumping in her seat a bit. She ignored the evil eye Sazh gave her.“What about it?”

“Asyou know, the old family kept their power tightly reigned.” Themore he spoke, the more serious Sazh became. It was weirdlyoff-putting. “All of the descendants have been, more or less,direct from the first king. Kinda a cut and dry family tree, evenwith all the marriages and what have you.”

“Right.”Lightning vaguely recalled this when she’d been forced to study theold family. The crown almost always went to the firstborn son ordaughter, which wasn’t so unusual for royalty, she supposed, but thefamily tree was streamlined to the point where many of thefirstborn’s siblings rarely got married or had children of their own.It was why she and Serah being a part of all of this was basicallyunprecedented.

Veryweird.

“LikeI told you, I’ve had some dealings with the old family. And I’m notthat old to remember the first king, but there’s a reason theykept the family as it was.”

“Sazh,please.” Lightning was rapidly running out of patience. She wasn’treally sure why, but something in her just wanted to hear thenews already. “Get to the point.”

“Soimpatient,” he muttered. “Okay, fine – long story short – thecoronation and ruling status are only valid with approval fromPhoenix.”

Itfelt like a block of ice had suddenly dropped in her stomach,although it took her a moment to rationalize why. “Approval?”“Yes.”The serious tone in Sazh’s voice grew. “You meet with the fal'ciein a special one-on-one ceremony. Phoenix will brand you as the nextruler of Eden. Not like a l'cie,” he added hastily, whenLightning’s gaze focused on the spot where his brand was hidden.“There’s no permanent mark, although it lasts 'til you’reofficially crowned. Then you’re free to rule as you please.”

Theice turned to lead in her gut. “Okay, so I meet with Phoenix andit…approves of me.” She frowned. “Why tell me this in secrecy?This is probably common knowledge among the royals, right?”

“Yeah.Some of the others brand their rulers like this too, but Phoenix isthe most important because, well…obvious reasons and all.”

“Isee.” The perfect placeholder reply, because this whole thing madeher feel…uneasy. Phoenix was arguably the most importantfal'cie in the world. Without the sun and life it provided, therewould be no world. The fal'cie from other kingdoms couldeasily be replaced with hard work and effort from humanity.

Butthe sun? There was no replacement for that.

Theenormity of her role in the world suddenly hit her like a train. Itdidn’t matter if her sister or the other royals or certain personalbodyguards believed in her. She’d never been very good at followingrules and had always thought of herself as very independent. The factthat she was to be in charge of everything under somethingelse’s power made her want to take a sword to Phoenix just to rid theworld of it, so humanity could try to thrive on its own.

Notthat she would – or could – ever admit this out loud.

“There’sone other thing,” Sazh added when she said nothing more.

Lightningrolled her eyes a little, mostly out of habit. “What?”

Hedidn’t comment on her rudeness. “I know for a fact thatyou’re part of the royal bloodline. Ol’ Sazh did his research. Youdon’t even want to know what dusty old books and old familyrecords I had to look up to find you and your sister.”

“You’vementioned this.” She raised an eyebrow. “Many times, in fact.”

“'Causeit’s true.” There was a pause before his voice went grave.“However, if Phoenix doesn’t approve of you for whatever reason ordecides you’re not worthy of the power to rule…”

Lightningwaited a moment for him to finish, but she knew what he meant when hetrailed off. This, maybe, was the source of her instant uneasinesswhen he’d started talking. It was everything she hadn’t known she wasdreading since coming into the conference room.

“…Phoenixwill kill me.” She met his eyes. “Won’t it?”

“There’snot much of a chance it’ll disapprove of you,” Sazh repliedquickly. She wondered who he was trying to convince. “Like I said,I did my research and you’re a part of the bloodline. I’ve heardthat’s all it really cares about. It’s not like the fal'cie reallygive a damn about human affairs, y'know?”

“Right.”She ignored the unsaid words – there was still that chance Phoenixwould cast her aside and everything would be for nothing.

Betterme than Serah.

Thatwas what it always came down to, the first thought her instinct wentto. Serah was the one who deserved a comfortable life withresponsibilities chosen by her and not some rule or bloodline. It wasbecause of her sister that Lightning had worked her ass off when theywere still in the slums, doing everything she could to give Serahever opportunity possible.

Shenever thought there was the possibility it could lead to her death.

Butwhat about her role now? Though she hadn’t asked for any of this, shewas slowly finding herself eager to make changes around the kingdomof Eden and make things better for people who weren’t long-lostmembers of the royal family.

“You’veseen both sides. I think that’ll eventually come to be your biggeststrength.”

Eventhough she kept trying not to think about a certain personalbodyguard, his words from the ball popped into her head. She’d alwaystaken his reassurance to heart, but now it had a thousand times moremeaning.

Thoughshe would never deny that Serah had also suffered in the past,Lightning had always watched out for her and sacrificed somuch to ensure that her needs were met. Their experiences weredifferent because of that.

Nobodyhad ever looked out for Lightning until now.

Andbecause of that, she was the only one who could truly changethings.

Shewas quiet for another moment as though contemplating, but short ofrunning away, there was really only one answer. There had only everbeen one answer.

Lightningsucked in a breath and met Sazh’s eyes, trying to steel herself withdetermination.

“Whatdo I need to do before meeting with Phoenix?”

–

Aswith practically everything related to this princess business, thepre-ceremony rituals were completely over the top and ridiculous.Someday she’d realize that nobody around here ever did things simply.

Overthe next couple of days, she rehearsed the ancient words that wouldsummon Phoenix to an audience with her. A handful of older maids –ones that had been tasked with all of the ritual business with theold family – helped her with cleansing baths and created theceremonial outfit. They were all sworn to secrecy.

Shefigured that made sense. If she was killed by Phoenix, it’d beeasier in the long run to play it off as some kind of accident ratherthan the most important fal'cie in the world rejecting her.

Butshe tried not to think about that. Besides the maids – and Sazh, ofcourse – the only other person who knew about the upcoming ceremonywas Serah, and that was simply because there was no way shewas keeping this a secret from her sister.

Lightningdidn’t mention the risks, though. Some things were better kept quiet.

“Snowtalks to Pandaemonium sometimes,” Serah mused over the phone. Itwas the night before Lightning’s meeting with Phoenix and she decidedshe’d needed the distraction. “Maybe he could give you advice!”

“Idon’t want any advice from that big lug.” She rolled her eyes, notwanting to admit she was curious, but… “…Talks to it how?”

Serah’svoice was a little knowing, but she didn’t tease. “He told me it’snot so much words. It’s not like conversing with a person – thefal'cie send images and they get clearer the more you have a mutualunderstanding.” She hummed a little. “Maybe it’s easy for himbecause he was elected the Patron.”

“Ormaybe his head’s so empty that the images come easier because there’snothing in the way.”

“Sis.”Serah huffed in exasperation. “Be nice.”

“I’dbe nicer if you were less interested in him.”

“Buthe’s so sweet!”

“Hmph.”This was what she wanted to worry about – who was goodenough for her sister and ridiculous things like that…not if thefal'cie who basically sustained the world was going to kill her.

Shecouldn’t let herself think about it.

Luckily,Serah was eager to keep chatting – mostly about Snow, toLightning’s disgust – and her nerves settled somewhat. Her sisterwas the one person who could distract her from this whole princessthing.

Well,her and another person, but she didn’t want to think about him,either.

Thenight passed quickly and soon Lightning was too tired to even hold upthe phone. She fell asleep quickly without having time to dwell onthe ceremony the next day. Just as planned.

Ironically,the sun woke her gently the following morning, which was a nicechange from her alarm going off or someone knocking on her door. Infact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up so calmly.

Ifonly it was enough to make up for what was about to happen.

Thecalm was unfortunately short-lived, because about thirty secondsafter she’d stood up and stretched, someone knocked at her door.

“YourHighness?”

Lightningsighed heavily, immediately recognizing the voice of the oldest ofthese in-the-know maids. “Come in.”

Therewere three of them and they filed in slowly, their hands clasped infront as they walked. She realized this was an incredibly serious andformal situation, but the realness of it smacked her in the face atthe sight of the maids looking so grave. That lead block that’dformed in her gut when Sazh initially told her about all of hisreturned in full force.

“Thisway.” One of the maids gestured to her ensuite bathroom, whereanother maid was already running the water. Lightning could see heradding special oils and herbs to the tub, apparently part of thewhole cleansing ritual.

Shewas already long used to shedding her modesty in front of otherpeople since this whole princess thing had become a part of her life,but she’d never hated it more than she had at this second. Undressingand slipping into the tub in front of the others just made this wholething feel weird and awkward and way more serious than she wanted itto be. It didn’t help that she knew arguing was useless; the oldestmaid had a glare that could probably take down Sazh – a trait she’dlove to learn, to be honest. Maybe she’d ask for lessons later.

Providedshe survived Phoenix’s judgment, of course.

Withthat thrilling thought in mind, Lightning allowed herself to be driedafter the bath and wrapped in a robe. She had to admit that whateverhad been added to the bath made her skin feel like new. There’d neverbeen any time or money to bother with girly lotions and potionsbefore Sazh had found them, but maybe there was some merit in it.

Onceshe was sufficiently dry, she was led into her enormous walk-inwardrobe, where the ceremonial gown was waiting for her. It wasactually quite a beautiful dress – a flowing garment in shades ofgold, white, and blue. There was a cape with a long train attached tothe back, maybe just to add to the ridiculousness. Phoenix’s brandwas embroidered along the edges in gold.

Themaids helped her into the gown and simple gold shoes. One of themclasped a gold bracelet with multicolored stones around her wrist.

“What’sthis?” Lightning asked, lifting her arm to inspect the bracelet. Anumber of jewels were kept in her wardrobe and a lot were in storage,but she was fairly sure she’d never seen this one before. It wasweirdly flashy and simple at once.

“Agift from Phoenix, Your Highness,” the youngest of the maidsanswered (although 'young’ in this case was about eighty years old).“It’s said that that fal'cie itself put it on the wrist of thefirst king. Ever since then, it’s been a tradition to wear it to theMeeting.”

Lightningsuddenly lost all interest in the bracelet and dropped her arm. “Oh.”

Thefinal part of her outfit was a headpiece that fit snugly in her hair.Long lines of gold extended from the band in varying lengths, thelongest about a foot. It formed a semicircle around her head – madeto resemble rays of the sun, she realized as she looked in a mirror.

“Whenyou’re ready, we’ll escort you,” the oldest maid said after apause.

“…Right.”Lightning let out a breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ifany of them found her comment weird, they made no mention. Instead,they simply ushered her out of her suite. The hallway – whichusually had people milling about cleaning and whatnot – was emptyexcept for them. Two of the maids stood on either side and one was infront to lead the way.

Theywalked like that the whole time in silence, the only sound being thewhoosh of her cape flowing over the floor. Usually Lightning reveledin quiet, but this silence felt way too heavy. It carried foreboding.

Doom.

Still,all she did was recite her summoning words in her mind, hoping shewouldn’t forget them. She’d never been one to crack under pressure,but this was a whole different level.

Itseemed like they’d walked for miles before they finally stopped infront of an enormous door. Lightning realized she’d actually passedthis area a handful of times, but the door was nondescript and tuckedaway, so she’d never given thought to what could be behind it.

Themaid in front slowly pulled the door open. Sunlight poured in and shetried not to squint at the glare.

“Wecan go no further,” the maid said. “Please head forward for yourceremony.”

“Thanks.”

Theyall curtsied in unison as she stepped into the light, not risinguntil the door slowly creaked shut behind her. Forget the lead in hergut; her stomach was doing cartwheels by now.

“Thatyou?”

Lightningnever thought she’d be so damn grateful to hear Sazh’s voice. She letout a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and hurried over –as much as she could in this outfit, anyway – and even though hestill looked grave and serious, it was still a relief to be aroundsomeone normal.

Well,normal to her, anyway.

“Ididn’t think you’d be here,” she said, trying to sound composed. “Ithought it might be against the rules or whatever.”

Despitethe serious expression on his face, Sazh smirked a little. “Whathave I been tellin’ you? There’s no getting rid of me. Besides, youhave any idea what you’re doing right now?”

Lightninglooked around the room for the first time. It was weirdly bright andwhite, though she could vaguely make out ornate designs on the wallsin gold. Ahead of her was more brightness and – was that fog?

Yeah,she was totally lost.

“Thoughtso,” was all Sazh replied at the look on her face. “All right,lemme lead you through it. Ask your questions or forever hold yourpeace.”

“Justtell me how to get to Phoenix,” she replied. “I want to get thisover with.”

“Fairenough.” He shook his head in exasperation and then gestured to theweirdly bright, foggy area in front of them. “Head forward untilyou see a crystal. It’ll be floating in midair, so try not to freak.”

“I’veseen freakier things.”

“Yeah,yeah.” He rolled his eyes, which was oddly comforting. “Once youget to the crystal, hold cup your hands around it.” Sazh held uphis own hands to demonstrate. “Then recite the summons you’veundoubtedly memorized. That should take you right to Phoenix.”

Lightningheld up her hands in the same way Sazh had. “Crystal, hands,recite. I think I’ve got it.”

“Youdo.” He stared at her a moment and then sighed, bowing his head abit before nodding. “You really do. You’ve got this.”

Ifthat was his way of saying he was sure she’d survive…the confidenceactually worked somewhat. Much to her annoyance, Sazh really did knowa lot and she trusted him. It was not guarantee, but at leastit was something.

“Right,”she murmured, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll be back.”

“We’llbe waiting.”

Asshe headed into the fog, Lightning could’ve sworn she heard somefootsteps echoing behind her, but she did not dare to look over hershoulder. Eyes front. If she lost her nerve now, she’d never be ableto do this again.

Timelost all meaning as she walked through the light and fog. There wasno comfort in it, but oddly enough, she had no fear, either. MaybeSazh’s confidence in her had actually worked. Maybe it was becauseshe had to survive for Serah.

Maybeit was because, according to a certain personal bodyguard, she couldbring about real change.

Shehad no idea how long she’d walked before the crystal appeared infront of her. It was shaped a bit like a diamond and reflectedrainbows into the whiteness around her. Just as she was supposed to,she hovered her hands around it and closed her eyes, bowing her headas she spoke.

“OMighty fal'cie Phoenix, I seek you so that I may govern in yourblessed name. Guide me to your knowing light so that I may humblygaze upon you.”

Shefelt stupid chanting the words, especially since she wasn’t quitesure how much she believed in them. Apparently belief didn’t matter,though, because the crystal suddenly blinded her – even though hereyes were still closed – and she had the sensation of movement. Itfelt like falling, but she was still upright. Lightning didn’t dareopen her eyes in case it broke some kind of spell. Sazh hadn’tmentioned any of this! She was definitely going to rant at himwhen she got back.

Ifshe got back.

Whenthings finally stilled, Lightning took a moment to breathe, her eyesstill closed. It was extremely unusual for her to just stand aroundand put herself in any sort of vulnerable position, but what wasn’tunusual about all of this?Surely a breather wasn’t out of line.

Therewas about ten second of silence before an unfamiliar rumbling noiseand a flash of head made her finally open her eyes. She could notcontain the gasp that ripped through her at what was before her.

“Phoenix.”

Thefal'cie was long and skinny on both ends, with smaller pieces of itsbody – was that a body? - extending from it. Whether theseparts were something otherworldly, nature, machine – she had noidea. In the middle it was round, filled with a light so bright thatshe couldn’t stare for long.

Itwas nothing like she had ever seen or imagined.

Ofcourse she had seen fal'cie before. Most everyone had. There weresmaller ones that worked in separate jurisdictions in Eden, doingvarious tasks like providing electricity or things for export. Notall of them in other kingdoms made themselves hidden, either. Theywere just a part of the landscape and a part of life thatnobody really took notice of them.

Nowshe understood why Phoenix was hidden away.

Itwas impossible not to take notice.

Lightningstepped forward unconsciously, not sure if she wanted to run towardsit or away. She felt dazed, which was not a sensation she wasa fan of, but what else could she do?

Therewas noise coming from the fal'cie, but she wasn’t sure if it wastrying to speak or if that was just how it sounded naturally. Surelysomething so massive and powerful couldn’t be completely silent.

Thesounds were like screams and whispers all at once, having thestrength to ruffle her gown and cape, but somehow not loud enough tohear. Something about it made her want to take a sword to the massivebeing in front of her, but who was she to deny the world of this?

Andthen it happened.

Phoenixcried out and a beam of light shot right towards her, too quickly toavoid. It scorched her chest, painful yet not. She could feel theswirls and intricacies of Phoenix’s brand, letting it become a partof her and she now was of it.

Blurry,hurried images flooded into her mind. Lightning vaguely recalledSerah mentioning Snow’s experience with his fal'cie, that the imagesbecame clearer with mutual understanding.

Butshe and Phoenix had no understanding. She still couldn’t tellwhether she hated it or wanted to give thanks. There was anunderlying buzz of Phoenix not knowing what to make of her, either –just that she was of the bloodline and she could ruleunscathed.

Theimages she saw were most of people she only vaguely recognized fromthe portraits in the palace – memories of her extremely distantancestors. Some were of the stars and moon, extensions of the fal'ciefrom even farther away than this. One image would come, only to beimmediately replaced by another, and she could make no real sense ofthem.

Untilthat moment.

“Hope?!”

Everythingwas still so fast, but now Lightning willed her mind to slow,anything so that she could sort out why Phoenix was showingher images of her personal bodyguard.

Shesaw Hope, handsome as ever, talking to a group of people in a glassbuilding that gleamed with perfection.

Anotherof him in a white and yellow outfit that seemed strangely familiar –but it wasn’t the garb he wore as her bodyguard.

Himtalking to a shorter woman who, again, seemed oddly familiar.

Hiseyes sliding to look at Phoenix.

Hishands working on something that could have been otherworldly, nature,or machine.

Hisgaze on her for a thousand different reasons, most worthy of asecret.

Hisshame as he ran off from her at ball.

Inthat instant, something clicked in Lightning’s mind, though her heartwas pounding and her breath was coming too fast to really sort itout. The images abruptly stopped and the brand on her chest cooled.

“Howdo you expect me to - ”

Shedidn’t get to finish her sentence before there was that sensation offalling again. Phoenix had dismissed her?! She’d survived itsjudgment, but for what?

Therewas no making sense of it. Time had no meaning.

Whenshe stopped falling, Lightning opened her eyes in a daze and emergedfrom the light, a bit surprised to see Sazh, but also -

“Hope,”she whispered, her heart pounding again. It was too much for her bodyand mind. Her knees shook and she pitched forward.

Butlike any good personal bodyguard, Hope raced to her, his eyes widewith panic as he caught her. She settled into his arms so easily –too easily.

“Light,”he said, her name hardly a gasp. His eyes darted to Phoenix’s brand,which was on the left side of her chest, impossible to miss againsther pale skin. “Light, why? Whydid you do it?”

She stared up at him, a thousandimages replaying in her mind in an instant. How could she possiblyput them together in a way that made sense?

But maybe shealready had.

Her hand reached up to shakily brushsome of his bangs from his worried face. Worried for who, shewondered?

“You’re not a bodyguard,” shemurmured.

Theneverything went black.

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feistypaants-archived · 5 years ago

Text

False Positive [Chapter 2]

Rating: M Words: 2001 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When things don’t go according to plan and Anna finds herself alone and pregnant, she looks to her sister’s best friend, Kristoff, and almost makes a huge mistake.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: This is taking on a life of it’s own. Thank you to @frozenwritingcorner for talking me through my panic about it lmao rip our sleep schedules.

Enjoy!

Anna woke up laid out on the couch, her head pounding, and the television quiet, but still on in the background. She looked around, memory of the long, long day quite hazy, but the important things still stood out to her. She was pregnant. Hans wanted nothing to do with her. Elsa was going to disown her. Kristoff…

She sat up quickly, looking around before spotting a scribbled note on the coffee table. Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, Anna reached over to grab it before blinking a couple times to clear her vision.

Had to head down to work. Call me or stop by the bar if you need anything.

- Kristoff

Sighing and placing the note back down onto the table, Anna dropped her chin into her hands. What was she going to do? Hans was probably right. She couldn’t do this alone. There was no way. She was just a child herself, freshly twenty-one, and so, so naive. She had no marketable skills. No experience with anything, really. She had met Hans when she was still in high school and just imagined that that would be enough…

Anna laughed to herself, frustrated that more tears were coming. Her only aspiration in life was to find love, have a family, and be a mom.

She supposed at least part of it was happening for her. But what guy would want to be with a young girl who already had a kid? That was so much responsibility to take on when you were in your early twenties and casually dating. No one would even give her a chance after this.

Maybe…

Scratching at the back of her neck, Anna moved to stand. She knew this was a terrible idea. Knew she’d probably regret it. Knew tricking someone into loving her was a mistake and probably made her a horrible excuse for a human. But she was so desperate to not be alone. And he wouldn’t ever leave her alone. She knew he was too good, too kind, too perfect to be bad.

And she used to have feelings for him. Maybe she still would if she hadn’t met Hans. Maybe she and him would have connected at some point. Maybe they still would. He was the best man she had ever known, and he treated her with such warmth…

Anna sighed, and headed back to her room to change. May as well take advantage of some of her skimpiest party clothes now that she was single and about to blow up like a whale. If it got Kristoff to look at her differently, that wouldn’t be so bad either.

So she got dressed, did her hair, and her makeup (maybe trying her best to look older and less like the kid sister), got into her car, and drove as quickly as she could to Oaken’s Pub a few minutes down the road. Kristoff was the main bartender, and she knew he’d be there, but she hoped to open her tab with someone else.

She didn’t need him noticing she wasn’t actually drinking.

Taking a few deep breaths before she headed inside, Anna smoothed the short, emerald green dress around her thighs before swinging the door open. The pub definitely wasn’t a party spot, but enough young professionals drank here that she was sure she’d garner at least some attention tonight. She wouldn’t act on it, of course, because she was here with a mission - and when brown eyes turned to her, fumbling with the bottle they were previously focused on pouring, Anna realized this might be easier than she thought.

When his attention turned back to the customer who was confused as to why he spilled part of their drink on the counter, Anna took advantage and moved quickly towards the other half of the bar that was being tended by his younger apprentice, Ryder. “Hey, Anna,” he grinned, wiping a spill off of the counter. “You look fancy.”

Anna pushed her hair over her shoulder before sitting up at the bar and setting down two hundreds, sliding them across the wood discreetly. “No alcohol tonight, okay?”

His fingers touched the edge of the bills, eyebrow raising. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to order vodka tonics… but I don’t want any vodka in them.”

“But-“

“You can charge me full vodka price, I don’t care. But do not,” she emphasized, tapping the counter hard. “Put any alcohol in them. Okay?”

“I’m-“

“Okay?”

“Geez, okay!” Ryder threw his hands up in defeat, before rolling his eyes and pouring her a glass of just tonic water. “Here’s your,” he slid the glass across the table and threw up fingers making mocking quotation marks. “Vodka tonic.”

“Can you not be so obvious?” Anna gripped the glass, annoyed that Kristoff was coming towards them before she had the younger bartender sorted, and her eyes darted between them anxiously. Ryder shrugged it off before snatching up the bills and turning to acknowledge Kristoff, who only had eyes for Anna.

“What?” Kristoff laughed, leaning up against the bar beside Ryder. “Am I not good enough for you anymore? Want some young, new flair on your drinks?” He was definitely a bit more old fashioned, but he never felt threatened by new trends that came up. In the end, classic would always win out.

Anna laughed uncomfortably, scratching behind her ear and taking a sip of the bittersweet soda. “Oh, you just seemed so busy…” she lied, biting at her perfectly colored lips. “And I figured this one here could use some practice.”

“Oh yeah,” Ryder mocked, throwing his hands up. “Vodka tonic. So challenging.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes and threw a towel at the other man, jerking a thumb behind him. “Looks like Sir Duke of Weasels over there has had a bit too much again. Can you handle it?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Ryder walked off and Anna watched him with stressed eyes, hopeful that she could nurse this small glass long enough for him to come back.

“So,” Kristoff started, smiling as her eyes snapped back to him. “When I left you were snoring on the couch. What’s all this about?” His hands gestured up and down her figure, causing Anna to blush as his eyes followed suit.

“Oh,” she laughed, leaning back slightly to give him a view of the whole dress and just exactly where it landed on her thighs. “I figured maybe I could get a date.” His eyes rose slowly up to hers, something she couldn’t place etched into his features. “... Rebound.”

Kristoff clicked his tongue, nodding, before pressing his lips together. “Gotcha.”

“Okay, judgey.” Anna raised the glass back up to her mouth, not missing his gaze flickering to her lips as they wrapped around the thin straw.

“M’not judging,” he frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just…”

Anna noticed a man looking at her from the other side of the bar and smiled, giving him a tiny but flirtatious wink, hoping it would do exactly what she wanted it to.

“Concerned,” he finished, dropping a coaster down in front of her. “Can you use this, please?”

Anna blinked a couple of times down at the coaster before noticing he was walking away, a new tension in his shoulders that she hadn’t ever seen before. But as soon as he was gone, the man from across the way was sitting beside her, his elbow on the edge of the bar and a smile crossing his lips. “This seat taken?” He asked, propping his cheek against his fist.

Pressing her lips together quickly, Anna turned her attention back to the stranger. “It is now,” she giggled, twisting her hips to let her bare knees brush against his. “Anna,” she smiled, holding out her hand.

In the end he was cute, funny, nice, and many other positive things, but Anna knew why she was here, and even though the man whose name she could not remember for the life of her had given her his number, she had no intentions of ever contacting him again.

Besides, Kristoff had waited on him, and Anna couldn’t help but notice that he had been placing his drinks down just a touch too hard, a fraction too far away, in what seemed like attempts to make the stranger look a fool. Whenever Anna laughed at something he said, Kristoff would make a little more noise. Whenever she leaned in closer, he would shove another drink or some food, or something in between them.

And when the guy’s hand dared to rest above her knee as she told him a story, his drink was conveniently knocked off the bar by a clumsy hand and a towel.

“Oh, jeez!” Kristoff howled, sarcasm evident on his face. “Sorry about that, man!”

“What the fu—“

“My bad, my bad.” Kristoff came out quickly from behind the bar, before smacking a hand onto the other man’s back. “Let’s get you cleaned up!”

Anna couldn’t help but laugh, biting down on the straw of her third drink. She was pretty sure that worked exactly how she had wanted it to. Too focused on the hollering that was coming from the bathroom, Anna didn’t notice Ryder come up to her.

“Wow,” he sighed, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Kristoff’s like, never that clumsy. Wonder what’s wrong.”

She jumped slightly in her seat before turning back to face the younger bartender. “That is strange!” Anna said, dropping her glass back down to the table. “I wonder if maybe he’s not feeling the best?”

Ryder shrugged with a twist of his mouth and returned back to work, waiting for Kristoff to reemerge. They both watched the bar patron leave in a huff, a towel wrapped around his waist in an undignified manner, and Kristoff followed behind, his entire face looking smug.

He sat down beside Anna, leaning his elbows against the bar. “Ryder, I’m done for the night. I think it’s slow enough for you to handle it on your own.” His eyes flicked to Anna as she propped her chin in her palm, eyebrow raised at him. “And bring me like, four drinks.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Anna sighed. “So.” She smiled when he looked at her. “What was that?”

He shrugged and placed his palms flat on the bar as a double shot of whisky appeared in front of him, his focus immediately returning to the bar and the drink. “You can do better than that guy.” He took a sip of his drink, sucking his lips against his teeth, and turned just his eyes back to her. “If you’re going to rebound, make it worth it.”

“Kristoff.” Her voice was tight, unsure of him, and she leaned forward, her hand sliding softly along the edge of the bar. “How do you know he wouldn’t have been a perfectly good option?”

He laughed, his hand brushing her fingertips as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve worked in bars for many, many years now.” His nose scrunched up slightly, as if he knew this next part was a bit distasteful. “You start to learn which guys… are satisfying the women they’re picking up.”

Anna’s eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together again. “What are you saying?”

“May as well…” he knocked back the rest of his drink, swallowing hard and tilting his head to the side. “Pick someone you know will… help. Someone who will actually make you feel better.”

Anna hesitated, knowing this little comment would either get her exactly where she was hoping to be, or ruin everything completely. “Are you,” she breathed, leaning forward and laying a firm hand on top of his thigh. “Suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Her heart was racing and she was certain he could hear it, but she made herself stick to the plan.

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders back with a small pop, before turning his head to look her dead on.

“Only if you’re accepting.”

#feistypantswrites #FPfic

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