#I swear the only reason they survive their own stupidity to have kids later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lexosaurus · 4 years ago

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Pink Astronaut

This is my secret santa gift for Anectoplasm on discord! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Danny/Paulina Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4549 Summary: To Paulina's dismay, she and Danny Fenton must work together on their English final project.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

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It was Lancer’s fault, really.

He assigned the class a partner-project for their final presentation, but being the annoying teacher he was, he had decided it was imperative that the students were assigned to pairs of his choosing. Aka, no working with friends.

Paulina tried her best. Truly, she did. She batted her eyelashes and put on her most polite tone when she said, “Pretty please with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top, can I work with Star instead of Loser Fenton?”

But, to her utter dismay, Mr. Lancer was a brick wall. No amount of wit nor charm could change his rubric, and so Paulina relented in a very much not dramatic final sigh as she resigned herself to be Danny Fenton’s English partner for the coming weeks.

Fenton was...well, he was weird. His parents hunted ghosts, he always slept through class, he was clumsy, and Paulina knew that in middle school Fenton was just like all the other boys who saw her as nothing more than a pretty face.

And that annoyed her to her core. She was a human, damn it! She had her own wishes and dreams and goals in life. Although she wasn’t vocal about it, she wanted to be a journalist when she was older. The kind that made it to shows like 60 Minutes, reporting on amazing stories from all around the world. She wanted to travel, she wanted to meet people, and she wanted to be the best at it.

She was still a long way off from that now though. First, she needed to survive through this stupid English project with that weird nerd who had gone through a not-so-secret crush on her before.

Though, when she looked his way now, Fenton didn’t look all too thrilled to be partnered with her either.

She would have called it odd, but that had been their dynamic for a little over a year now. She guessed that Fenton finally got the hint and dropped his love struck puppy act. Maybe he and Sam had finally confessed their undying love to each other.

It was probably for the best.

Fenton made no move towards her, instead choosing to stare dully into his notebook.

Paulina rolled her eyes and slid from her chair. She strode over to his desk, throwing a hand on her waist and looking down at him with an expression she knew would yield no arguments. “Alright, my house or yours?”

“Huh?” Fenton said, recognizing a little too late that she was there.

“For the project? The one we were just assigned? Hello, Earth to Commander Fenton! My house or yours today?”

“Today?” Fenton blinked. “You wanna start today?”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Why, got something better to do?”

“Well—it’s just—”

“I’ll come over at four. I’ll be at cheer practice till then. If you want anything from Starbucks, just text me before then. I know Manson has my number, you can get it from her.”

She left him sitting dumbly in his chair. No one was getting in the way of her and that A, especially not some nerd who couldn’t even bother to care about school.

But, to Paulina’s surprise, Fenton actually opened the door for her when she showed up to his house that afternoon. Half of her expected him to blow her off, just ghost her and leave her to do all the work. And yet, he brought her into his kitchen, got out his notebook, and got right to work.

It was unnerving to see him so studious. She remembered Fenton as a nerd in middle school, but everyone knew about the absolute nose-dive his grades took once he got to high school. It wasn’t exactly a secret, what with him skipping class every other day.

The duo parted ways with a promise to meet up again over the weekend. Again, to Paulina’s pleasant surprise, he actually texted her to confirm their plans. And when Paulina stepped into the Starbucks that Saturday afternoon, Danny was already sitting at a table waiting for her, his notebook out and the project rubric between his fingers.

This much good luck was sure to run out, but Paulina just hoped that Fenton could last another few weeks before he inevitably dropped the ball.

Except, that never happened. Each time they set up plans to work on their presentation, Fenton would show up, he would focus on the work, and they’d part ways with plans to reconvene later. It was uncanny. It was so unlike everything Paulina had come to know of Fenton through these months.

And Paulina wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was who Fenton really was.

Under all those disciplinary actions, the dropped beakers, the tardies, the unfinished assignments and failed grades, if this was hidden underneath.

So then that begged the question: why didn’t he show this side of himself more? Why was he failing if he was clearly capable of doing the work?

And so Paulina sat there, just a week before they were set to give their presentation, scrutinizing Fenton’s features as he recited a passage from the book they were analyzing. She noted the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the way his face seemed to tighten every time he coughed.

He had arrived a few minutes late that day, and she remembered how he entered the classroom, his gate just a little too stiff to be natural.

Someone had hurt Fenton, Paulina realized. Someone had beat him up.

For reasons she didn’t know, hot anger flashed over her. Someone beat up Danny, a kid who was clumsy and could be a bit slow on the uptake, but someone who Paulina had come to understand was a rather kind and gentle classmate.

Yet someone didn’t care.

So the next day, maybe she stormed up to Dash a little too aggressively to demand, “What the hell did you do to Fenton?”

There was Dash, right on queue with his cocky laugh and a, “That nerd had it coming to him!”

“Are you kidding me?” Paulina yelled. “A week before our English final presentation and you punch Fenton across the face? Are you stupid?”

Dash’s smile dropped instantly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Paulina, I didn’t—”

“You know how much this class matters to me, Dash! You know I wanna move up to honors next year! I can’t do that if you’re giving my English partner a goddamn concussion while we’re preparing to present!”

“Paulina!” Dash grabbed her arm.

“No!” Paulina ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me, and don’t fucking sabotage—”

“I didn’t beat Fenton up!” Dash shouted.

Paulina’s eyes narrowed.

Dash held his hands up in a surrender. “I swear I didn’t beat him up. Ask Kwan if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I haven’t touched him in months. The—the coach told me that if I did well in school this year, I’d probably get recruited to college. I didn’t want to risk Fenton messing that up. I swear!”

Paulina stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to crack. But Dash’s panicked face held.

“Whatever.” She whipped around. “Tell your stupid friends to keep their hands off my project partner.”

“Consider it done!”

Paulina stormed off, ignoring the wide stares from her peers and the whispers of, “Did she just defend Fenton?”

She tried to block them out. They weren’t important. Her grades were important, her future was important, but those idiots? No, they meant nothing to her.

That afternoon, Danny was early. He was sitting there in the empty classroom when Paulina walked in, his head down to his paper, and didn’t even look up when Paulina gave her cheerful, “Hello!”

Well...that was weird. Sure, a few weeks ago, Danny mostly ignored her cheerful greetings in favor of getting ahead on the project, but Paulina liked to think that a mutual respect, or—god forbid—a friendship had been forming between the duo.

“Oof, cold shoulder? So not your speed, Danny,” Paulina said, plopping down to her seat.

Danny tensed, “I...uh, sorry. I’m tired.”

“Sheesh, alright.” Paulina slid her notebook out. “So we were working on the symbolism slide of the powerpoint, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny passed his notebook over to her. “I started parsing through the book at lunch today and found some good passages. Take a look.”

Paulina went to study the paper, but something else caught her eye.

Something on his arm.

Something that looked like a burn.

“Danny?” Paulina stared wide-eyed at the space of molten skin between his sleeve and hand. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I—” Danny slipped his arm under the desk. “I, uh, sorry. You see—”

“Whoa!” Paulina only caught a glance of his face before he ducked down again, but that split-second was enough. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paulina saw red. “Oh, that idiot! I’m gonna kill him!”

Danny looked up, the multicolored patchwork of skin on his face finally fully visible to Paulina. “Kill who?”

“Oh, look at you! That asshole!”

Fenton winced. “Am I...am I missing something here?”

“I’m gonna kill Dash!”

“...Dash?”

“I told him this morning to keep his hands off you! I made that asshole promise to me, and I told him to pass the message along to his stupid friends too!”

Something in Danny’s expression softened. “You told off Dash?”

“Well of course I did!” Paulina said hotily. “You’re my project partner! What kind of person would I be if I let you get hurt?”

“Oh well…” A smile quirked on Danny’s lips. “Thanks for that, but it wasn’t Dash.”

“Well then who was it? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You’re right, death would be too generous. I’ll just destroy their reputation instead!”

A bemused look overtook Danny’s face. “Yeah, I have no doubt you would.”

“Tell me right now, Fenton. Tell me who did this and I’ll make them pay. You won’t have to worry about them ever again once I’m finished with them.”

“Oh, I…” The smile fell from Danny’s lips. “It wasn’t anyone. I just...fell.”

“You what?” Paulina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know how clumsy I am.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He laughed awkwardly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just—you know. I was walking in the hall, fell down some stairs, hit the stair rail at the bottom. Just typical weirdo Fenton stuff! Nothing you need to destroy anyone over.”

“Don’t play with me. You didn’t fall.”

“I did fall though! It was...yeah, you know how it is. I was walking and talking at the same time and just slipped and fell! Ah, stupid Fenton, am I right? Just always...falling.”

Paulina’s glare was hollow. “How dumb do you think I am, Danny?”

Danny froze, his rambling stuttering off into a tense silence. “What?”

“I said—” Paulina rose from her chair. “—just how dumb do you think I am?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I think we may have gotten on the wrong topic here.”

“No!” Paulina slammed her hand down on Fenton’s notebook. “This little tirade? This sham you’ve been pulling for the past two years? It’s bullshit, Danny, and you know it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do know! You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Paulina hissed. “We’ve been working together for weeks now, and you think you can just sit here and say you fell? To me?”

“Well, sue me, Paulina!” Danny snapped. “Why do you even care, anyways? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Because you’re my project partner! Your grade is my grade, idiot!”

“Gee, I’m glad you only care about people when it affects your grade.” Danny shoved his notebook into his bag. “What an amazing quality to have.”

Paulina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s not true!”

Danny ignored her reaction, instead choosing to angrily zip up his backpack. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend’s been beating me up since we were five. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to care now, but if you want something to be mad at, maybe try being mad at the years of shit I’ve taken from you and your friends.”

Paulina stood there seething as Danny pushed past her and stocked off into the hallway, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

There was the Fenton she’d come to know in high school, this was the Fenton she remembered. The one who avoided questions, who put himself down to avoid suspicion, who left in the middle of class without saying anything, who no one could rely on.

But, perhaps more now than ever, Paulina could see just how much of a sham this whole act was.

Just how much he was using this face to protect himself.

But from what? From who?

Paulina tried not to dwell too much on the bruises, especially since they were gone the next day and didn’t reappear for the rest of the week. Of course, Dash swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Fenton’s appearance, and Paulina believed him. Dash could be a bit bullheaded, but he was still one of her closest friends.

For the remaining week they had to put their presentation together, Danny kept to himself, and so did Paulina. Whatever semblance of a friendship they’d built had disintegrated, and both parties seemed content to let it fall.

It made sense, logically speaking. Paulina was popular, Fenton wasn’t. Paulina was an extrovert, Fenton was an introvert. Paulina thrived in attention, Fenton shied away from it. They were like oil and water, a friendship just wasn’t possible.

The presentation day came, and the two spoke with confidence that could only have come from weeks of preparation. Paulina couldn’t help but glow under Mr. Lancer’s impressed nod. Their high marks from the project were enough to fulfill Paulina’s recommendation to the honors English course for the next fall.

And then the school year came to a close and finally, after months of hard work, they could finally relax.

But not before they celebrated first.

One of Dash’s good friends, Dale, had taken it upon himself to host the massive end of the school year party for the rising junior class at Casper High that year. His parents, being the weird sort of chill parents they were, offered up their lake house with the promise that there would be no drinking and driving.

The teens were ecstatic.

Everyone—everyone—went to the party. Jocks, nerds, band geeks, theatre kids, every clique was represented at the lake house. And why wouldn’t they come? It was the end of the school year celebration! A time to rejoice in having survived another round of homework, tests, quizzes, and essays.

It was also a time where Paulina was once again reminded that yes, the theatre kids could in fact go shot-to-shot with the football team.

Fenton was there with his little group, but Paulina paid them no mind. This wasn’t the time to be worried about him, nor was it the time to feel any sort of guilt at the way their budding friendship just collapsed. She had her friends, why add another?

And it was just preposterous to imply that she missed Fenton.

Because she didn’t.

And yet, when the night was drawing to a close, Paulina somehow managed to find herself down by the lake where a skinny, black haired teen was sitting alone.

She stood behind him, unsure if she wanted to initiate contact. He’d made it clear from their last argument that he still held years of resentment towards her and her friends, and Paulina knew from experience that all that resentment couldn’t go away in one alcohol-filled night.

She turned to walk away, but something stopped her. Before she could question what she was doing or why, she found herself sitting down on the damp grass next to him.

“What are you doing out here?” Paulina asked.

“Oh, uh, hey Paulina! Fancy seeing you here.” Danny gave her a small wave.

“You too.” Paulina stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. “Some party, right?”

“Yeah, Dale was really nice to host this.”

“He’s a great guy. His parents too.”

“I bet.” Danny said. “How are your friends holding up?”

“Well, let’s see. Star just spent a half hour trying to convince me that aliens exist, and Dale’s currently comforting Kwan who saw a video of a puppy rescue on the side of the road and started crying, so I’d say they’re holding up pretty well.”

Danny guffawed. “No way!”

“I swear!” Paulina laughed. “This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened either. I swear, every other time we drink, Kwan always ends up in a corner somewhere watching animal videos on his phone and crying at how precious the animals are and ‘please, Paulina, can’t we just adopt one?’ He’s gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Danny giggled, his laugh light and airy. Paulina watched him, amazed that they were able to just start talking again as if their fight had never happened.

“So what about you?” she asked. “What happened to your clan?”

“Sam had to drive Tucker home. He got too overconfident in pong.”

She snorted. “Dash is the same. He’s always like, ‘one more round, I’m gonna crush it this time’ and then twenty minutes later I find him asleep in a bathtub or something.”

“Dash drunk sleeping in a bathtub? Oh, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“I can assure you that photos exist.”

“The perfect blackmail.” Fenton shot her a grin. “Remind me to get one of Tucker next time he does something stupid.”

“And what makes you think you won’t be right there on the floor with him?” Paulina sassed.

“Hah! You’re probably right!” His smile fell, and he looked at her questioningly. “Hey, will your boyfriend be okay with you out here with me?”

“Oh, Dash? He’s...actually not my boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Danny jolted upright. He spun around to face her. “But I thought—”

“Yeah, everyone does. But we’re not dating.”

“Then why don’t you say something? Squash all the rumors?”

Paulina averted her gaze back onto the lake. It was a gorgeous night. Stars speckled the sky in a spectacular display, illuminating the Milky Way behind them. Amity Park was too industrious to see the galaxy, and Paulina couldn’t help but marvel at its sight.

It was gorgeous. Vast. It seemed to never end. She remembered reading somewhere that the Milky Way could only be seen if there was no moon out.

Luck must have been on her side that night.

“Unless...you don’t want to.” Danny’s voice dawned a tone of realization. “But why?”

“I got tired of it all,” she admitted, her honesty surprising herself. “Guys only wanted to talk to me because they thought if they were nice enough, I would get in their pants or something. I got accused of friendzoning more people than not. Honestly, it was so annoying. I felt everyone saw me as some stupid object. So when the rumors started going around this year that Dash and I were dating, and a lot of guys in our grade started backing off, I just...didn’t fight it. I thought maybe finally everyone would see me as a person. Maybe people would take me seriously.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know if it worked, but at least now people don’t see me as some sort of prize so much anymore.”

Danny was silent for a moment, and Paulina immediately regretted her admission. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening her lips, but she doubted Fenton of all people cared. They weren’t even friends.

One side of her wanted to get up and leave, go back to her friends inside the house, but the other side of her was too embarrassed to move.

“That makes sense, honestly,” Danny finally responded.

A wave of relief washed over her.

“And I’m sorry that there was a time where I couldn’t see past your looks too. I was young, but that’s still not an excuse.” He shifted. “I’ve had some...things happen the past year, and they’ve really taught me a lot about judging a book by its cover.”

“What kinds of things?” Paulina said, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much curiosity.

There went that hand behind his neck again. He was nervous, Paulina noted.

“Oh! Uh...it’s a long story, but I just wanted to say that I understand. I get what it feels like to be judged based on surface-level stuff. I mean, Paulina, you’re really smart. I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m really glad we ended up partners on that English project. I would have been so screwed with anyone else.”

“Thanks, Danny,” she said, trying to fight the blush that she knew was tinting her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being nosy at the end there. I didn’t mean to corner you like that. It was really stupid of me to pry when you obviously didn’t feel like talking.”

“No!” he exclaimed “No, don’t apologize! I was just being sensitive. Honestly, I knew I looked like shit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t fall obviously. I wasn’t trying to play you, I just panicked. But...I’m okay now, really.”

He looked at her, and Paulina noted how his blue eyes seemed to dance under the light of the stars. How he sat up straighter, his shoulders rolled back and head held high. How yes he was thin, but not scrawny like he was back in freshman year of high school. He seemed toned, lithe, almost like a gymnast.

Danny had definitely grown up in the past two years, but then again, so had she.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m also glad I got to be your English partner too,” she said.

They sat by the lake watching the stars until the chill of the crisp spring air began to set in Paulina’s bones. She left Danny in favor of the warm house, but not without saying, “I’ll text you sometime.”

The summer came, and the ever so slightly intoxicated promise to hang out slipped Paulina’s mind. After all, she had months of sleep to catch up on.

Fortunately for her, Danny remembered.

It was a silly text, a meme about Shakespear. Paulina responded with the appropriate emojis, and tried to convince herself that the smile she wore was due to the funny image, and had nothing to do with the boy who sent it.

And a week later, he sent another one. This time, Paulina asked to grab a coffee with him. Catch up.

To her surprise, Danny agreed. They met up at the Starbucks and what Paulina thought would only be a quick catch-up session turned into a three hour long hangout.

Despite his awkward demeanor, Danny was rather talkative. Especially when the topic revolved around space. Apparently, he wanted to work for NASA someday. He said it came from a childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, but overtime his interests shifted into rocket design and engineering. It helped that—according to Danny—his dad had built the equivalent of an ecto-rocket in his basement.

Paulina confessed that she wanted to work for 60 Minutes someday as a journalist. She dreamed of traveling around the world, collecting stories and meeting people. She explained that as a kid, she used to have to travel around the world for her dad’s work before he finally settled in Amity Park. And although she’d been living in Amity for years now, a part of her still missed those days where she was constantly exposed to new countries, languages, and cultures.

Danny listened attentively, reacting at the appropriate times and pressing for questions whenever she would trail off. Even though he had a reputation of never paying attention to teachers, he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her.

Eventually they parted ways, but they promised to hang out again.

And again they did.

And again.

Again.

There were some topics that Danny seemed to skirt around, such as why he sometimes would show up bruised, or why he seemed to struggle to stay in class despite his dreams of working for a prestigious agency like NASA.

But Paulina was willing to ignore those demons because she liked Danny, and she didn’t want to say anything that would push him away. And, despite their differences, he seemed to like her back.

Summer drifted to fall, the leaves started to turn, and soon it was too cold to hangout outside.

Which was how they found themselves here, in Danny’s room, laying on Danny’s floor watching Youtube videos, their math homework long since abandoned beside them.

It was a nerdy video, one about bizarre planets that existed in space. One that Paulina would never have watched on her own, but Danny seemed positively riveted at.

His eyes were bright and attentive, and every so often he’d point to the screen and go, “Look!” as if Paulina wasn’t watching the same video.

It was...adorable.

His excitement rivaled a child on Christmas. And as interesting as the video was to watch, Danny was even more so.

The video ended, but Paulina hardly noticed. All she could see was the grin on Danny’s lips, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the way his hair sat on his head like a soft cloud.

“So? What did you think?” Danny asked.

“Cute,” Paulina responded. “You’re cute.”

Danny blinked, his mouth turning to a little “o” shape as red tinged his cheeks. He started to stutter, to try to brush Paulina off, but she held onto his shoulder and said, “Danny, I think you’re cute.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think you’re cute too.”

Paulina closed the gap between them, closing her eyes. His lips felt soft against hers, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hands trailed up to his hair, and she curled her fingers through his soft hair.

He was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and his skin felt cool against her own. Secretly, Paulina had always loved that about Danny, the fact that his body temperature seemed to run lower than normal. And now she could cherish this all to herself.

Danny’s hand wrapped around her back, gently pressing her closer. His touch was electric, and Paulina could have melted right there. She pressed further against him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment for just a few moments longer before Danny pulled back. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

There were some things Paulina didn’t understand about Danny. There were some things he was still closed off about, things he didn’t want to speak about. And eventually, Paulina would bring those things up, she would get answers. Eventually, she would uncover all the secrets, all the layers to the enigma that made up Danny Fenton.

But right now?

Right now she was just going to enjoy the moment.

#danny phantom #pink astronaut #fluff #romance #phicc #my writing #paulina #secret santa

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- Much More

Summary: Deciding to let Geralt handle the child surprise on his own and rekindle your friendship with Yennefer while against all odds, fight with mages by your side, it’s time to protect Sodden from Nilfgaard.

Warning: blood, fighting Nilfgaard soldiers, angst, reader going a bit feral, eyy more backstory ft. Geralt

Masterlist

The next morning, in the early hours of the dawn did you, Yennefer, and a handful of willing mages set off in lifeboats for the distant shore. You sat in silence within the tight cluster of other bodies seated all around you, every mage dressed very distinctive from one another, their outfits less then ready for battle if you're being completely honest.

You could almost laugh, what exactly did these magical people have in mind when the time came to stopping Nilfgaard? They travel in their fancy robes and attire like it's time to go to court. But you digress, they may look like a fashionable lot, but they do know how to use their powers for destruction if need be.

Hopefully they won't shy away from turning a soldier to ash.

The boat ride lasted longer then you'd have liked, honestly why didn't you just fly across? Oh right, you wanted information about what's going to happen and you know, Yennefer.

Cursed that damned djinn.

Once the boat safely rested against the sandy shore did you get out with the rest of the other mages. Not caring in the slightest to help them pull it fully onto the grass beyond the sand, though you could have done it with one hand. Instead do you follow Yennefer as Vilgefortz questions her relentlessly about many things she simply brushes off, disinterested and annoyed.

It's another boring cluster fuck of hours before you can hear the telling noise of people as they prepare for battle. Once you find your way out of the woods do you notice the great castle-like structure of the Elven keep upon Sodden's Hill, it's crumbling white stony walls sticking out like a sore thumb against the greenery of the land. On the other side, a long bridge pathway leading to the other edge of the great pass, exactly where Nilfgaard is planning to go.

You follow the mages as you all make your way down to the grassy hill towards the tents below, Tissaia meets up with another mage, a man who welcomes you all with open arms, clearly he did not expect such company. But by the looks of it, is desperately going to need every single one of you.

You walk in step with Yennefer, Triss to your back as you shift your gaze from the spread out mass of tired refugee villagers, orphans, and scared old men. The atmosphere is dreary and tense, they all know what's coming and the sight of your group makes some of them even more nervous.

"These people," Starts the robed mage as he walks in line with Tissaia, "they have been pushed from their homes. They've seen the scorched earth, the fields of corpses stretching between Gemmera and this river. Such cruelty."

"It's Nilfgaards way." Replies Tissaia, "There's nothing like a higher purpose to permit men to do the unspeakable." If that isn't the truth.

"But it's all any of us have left. We have to defend it."

"That's heroic." States Sabrina much to your surprise.

You turn to her, "And stupid." They all stop and stare at you in puzzlement like you'd just kicked a helpless puppy and laughed about it, letting out a sigh you shift your scarlet eyes upon the man and Tissaia, "Take the children and hide before they get here so they may avoid more terror and death."

His brows furrow, "There is no more hiding from Nilfgaard. They have come from beyond the mountains to destroy the world." You stay silent, it's not worth arguing over at this point. He's already made up his mind.

Saving the slightly awkward moment, Triss steps in, "You still believe it can be saved?"

Everyone looks to the mage as he stares off into the distance, a look of hope in his bright blue eyes, "I suppose I do." He smiles before turning back to your group, "With some help." And just like that do you all make your way into the keep to further make use of your talents.

Countless arrays of glass bottles are set out and filled with some type of strangely smelling blue rock, arrows are constructed and set out up by the ramparts as you watch from your perch high atop a castle ledge. The preparations are made throughout the whole entirety of the day, the villagers and mages alike all working tirelessly together in a hopefully fruitful attempt at saving this dying stronghold from the Nilfgaardians.

The sun has kept herself hidden from the world hours ago, the beautiful welcoming blanket of darkness settling across the land for the time being. Your favorite time of the day. You watch as the mages and other villagers find their company with one another on a last night of peace before blood is most likely spilt tomorrow when the soldiers arrive.

Against all odds the atmosphere is quite happier and light, people telling stories over fires under the stars as they take their minds off of the impending doom. You've placed yourself a couple feet from Tissaia and Vilgefortz as they sit side by side on a stone ledge with their feet just about touching the ground, a drink in their hands as they reminisce about better times in their lives. You hold one knee up, your other leg dangling freely as you listen to Yennefer and Triss as they walk into view.

Triss snacks on an apple as she points towards your direction, "Is Vilgefortz to be our new daddy?" A small snort escapes you as your heightened hearing catches her jest. Not a second later does Vilgefortz happen to get up, leaving you and Tissaia alone, Yennefer parting from Triss as she stops in the grass. Unsure of where to go next, Tissaia takes this as a cue to raise her glass, "The ale won't disappoint. We should enjoy it while we can."

Yennefer turns to the two of you, a stoic expression crossing her features as she walks over, "It's the first thing Nilfgaard will destroy." She quips bluntly before sitting down in between the both of you.

Tissaia hands her a spare glass, "Must you always be so fatalistic?"

"It's only appropriate, seeing as we might die." Replies the violet eyed mage before taking a sip of the ale, still rather unenthusiastical about everything.

You chuckle, "Well maybe you two, I on the other hand plan on tearing these dogs to pieces."

Tissaia laughs, "All the more reason to live tonight."

Yennefer sets her mug against her lap, "Mmm. Like you." She retorts, looking knowingly in the direction of Vilgefortz as he converses with some soldiers. You look to Tissaia, a smile upon her slender face as she stares almost adoringly at the raven haired man. The three of you look to one another and begin laughing like young school girls who just found out about their friends secret crush.

It feels nice, oddly so.

Your laughter slowly dies down, a more heavy aurora laying over the three of you as your smiles vanish from your once happy faces. Tissaia sighs before excusing herself from the two of you, no doubt heading to seek out the man of the hour.

You sit back in a comfortable silence as a light breeze caresses your face before turning an eye to your friend, "Are you ready?" Your voice is steady and calm yet holding so much, Yennefer quickly turns to face you, her eyes full of apprehensive wonder, "To die." You finish with a raise of your brow, "If destiny decides to finally take us out that is."

She pauses for a moment to think it over as she watches some kids run by in the firelight, "Yes. I've lived two or three lifetimes already."

"But you haven't been satisfied in any of them." You point out as she frowns, her eyes downcast in the nearby fire light.

"But I've no legacy to leave behind. No family." She says sadly, "It's time to accept that life has no more to give." A tinge of disappointment in her voice as she sits next to you, feeling rather defeated with her life.

"You still have so much left to give." She looks to you now, a kind warm smile pulling at your features, "I know it, and I'm not just saying that because of well, you know. I've never really thought about it but you're kind of like me in a way."

She slowly nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, not sure where you're about to go with this, "How so?"

You shrug, "We're both half of something, two pieces that make us a whole being of vitality and raw power. You're half elf, I'm half vampire, two incredible immortal races that should not be fucked with." You playfully nudged her shoulder, "We don't always get what we want in life, she can be quite the bitch you know, and even though I'll never have a true heir of my own. Well I guess, if I can keep alive some of the good in this world while defeating the evil, that's good enough for me. My legacy is hidden within my actions and who I help along the way, it's all it needs to be."

She furrows her brows, "Thank you Y/N." Sincerity in her voice.

You let out a breathy laugh, clearly confused, "For what?"

"For deciding to come with me to this place, you could have left and fucked off to wherever you chose next. But you decided to stay, and well...maybe I do enjoy having you in my company....no matter how how scary those eyes of yours are." She teases.

You smile, "Not the djinn talking?"

"No. Not the djinn. I swear it." Says Yennefer honestly.

You softly hum in agreeance, "So do I. I think it just makes us want to protect one another, perhaps that's how we're drawn in. It's like I'm a beacon of light and you're a moth," You laugh, "or something like that."

"I think so too. Hopefully we don't end up dying, or well, I don't end up dying that is. Guess I'm not entirely sure if I'm ready." Inquires Yennefer uneasily.

"Is anyone ever? I can't die just yet anyways, I still have to see Geralt again, tell him I'm sorry for leaving and probably punch him for that damned wish. Gods I feel horrible..."

"You had every right to say what you did, and don't worry, I know you Y/N. You'll survive. I'm sure of it."

You lean back into the grass, your arms holding you up as you stare up into the dark starry night sky, "Thanks, very motivational. But hey, since we're out here and unsure for the inevitable future.....got any stories?"

Yennefer takes another sip of her mug before setting it down in her lap, "Got a few, but I'd honestly rather hear something from you." She lightly kicks your boot, "Is there any truth to Jaskier's ballad about when you and Geralt fought a Bruxa? From his tale, it appeared to be quite the story."

Rolling your eyes you scoff, "Oh yeah, that bard loves to make our hunts seem so glamorous and amazing, the famous White Wolf almost got his balls slashed off from the nasty fucker."

She hums in interest, "Do tell." You look at her with the most unamused face you can muster, she simply laughs at your lackluster reaction, "Oh come on, Y/N. Tell me all the gory details, I'd rather enjoy hearing about how your Witcher almost lost his prized jewels."

You stare a her before making a gesture for her to hand you the half filled mug in her lap, with a smirk she generously hands it to you, "Now. I can tell you the story." You add before taking a hearty chug, setting the mug down next to you in the grass as you let out a little hiccup, "Alright, so for this specific hunt we though it best to leave Jaskier or he would have without a doubt been killed on the spot, and blah blah we all would have sorely missed him." You lightly chuckle at the dark thought, "Anyways, the town nearby had been recently dealing with a very dangerous problem hiding in some nearby abandoned ruins of some burned down village...."

(Cue flashback)

It's daylight as you walk down an old dirt road leading to a recently destroyed village, the townsfolk living just across the river had told you and Geralt how some vengeful bandits took it upon themselves to burn and pillage the place after some hero wannabe killed their leader with a lucky arrow to the head. The next thing they new, every wooden house had been set ablaze in the dead of night as they raced outdoors to listen to the terrified screams emitting from within the woods.

The mayor claimed it was a horrendous display of revenge, only a lucky few had survived the torment, but something even worse then petty bandits had loomed over the land in the following month, brought upon by the lingering stench of death and blood. It had begun with high pitched shrieking in the dead of night, right were the ruined village was, some brave souls would investigate the next day to find the mutilated corpse of a male traveler.

More people would go missing for another month before you, Geralt, and Jaskier happened to stroll into town one autumn afternoon. No one at the local tavern, nor the mayor herself, would know what beast was taking all the men hunting for it. So with a suspicious curiosity did you accept her offer of coin in return for the death of the mysterious beast. The next day, with lack of a certain bard, did you and Geralt set off to explore the destroyed grounds.

You kick a loose rock and watch as the little boulder skids across the muddy trail while keeping pace with Geralt, "So, any idea what this hungry fucker might be?" You ask, turning to him with a wiggle of your brow, "I have a few ideas."

Geralt hums, turning an inquiring golden eye in your direction, "Considering this place has gone to shit in the past two months, dead bodies everywhere, could be a ghoul....or a wraith...maybe even a werewolf." His voice gravely and filled with a tinge of dark humor.

You chuckle, "A werewolf huh, now that would be quite the battle to witness, me and the notorious dogman, claw to blade. I'd have its head on a spike in an instant..."

"Would you now?" He teases.

"I would!" You lean in to lightly smack his arm, "What? Don't laugh...grrr ugh okay fine....after it put me through a couple rounds, I'd get there eventually. Then you'd be there to celebrate my victory with loud cheers of praise before taking me on the grass to thoroughly show me your ever loving gratitude." You cackle as he coughs awkwardly on his own spit, sending you an surprised but very amused facial expression at your more sensual implications.

"Right then and there, in front of the headless beast?" Wonders Geralt as you nod, a smile breaking out upon his handsome face, "Y/N, you are quite the woman."

"Course I am, best thing you've got." You sass with confidence before stopping dead in your tracks at the scent of something decaying. Geralt watches in curiosity as you sniff the cool air, your scarlet irises dancing across the burnt ruins of the village now that you're both so close, you raise a brow at him, "New flesh. Someone was just recently killed."

Your feet are quick as they take you past charred wooden houses and broken glass, all the way through the mess before you stand a few feet away from a large half caved in house, its entrance gone as it stands looming over all the other destroyed ruins. You turn to Geralt, "The dead one sleeps in here, the blood is a couple days old." He nods as you cautiously enter through the broken door, your eyes adjusting to the shadowy darkness as you walk into the room.

It's one large area with a crumbling ash covered fireplace at the far middle end of the wooden structure, you walk a couple more feet before stopping, Geralt coming to a halt at your side. "Nothings here." He confirms, his eyes still looking over the ashen room.

You shake your head, a smile upon your lips at his terrible observation skills, you turn around to face him before taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his head towards the rafters. His eyes immediately lock onto the incomprehensible corpse of a man, or at least what was left of him, only his guts and a single arm hanging from the ceiling.

"That's lovely." Muses your Witcher bluntly as you release your touch, he lifts a brow to you, "Definitely not a wraith or a ghoul. I'm not even sure a werewolf would have done this, that is the charming work of something incredibly violent and depraved. Some creature that would not care for their victim in the slightest, and the victims...all men.." He looks to the side, trying to think for a moment, "just men. And it showed up after the burning, but then it decided to stay...now it kills for food and apparently pleasure too. Maybe this is a..."

"Bruxa." His golden eyes lock onto your causal stance, he sets a hand on his hip as you simply shrug, "I could smell the bitch before we crossed the bridge, wanted to see if you figured it out first. Wow Geralt, what a monster hunter you are, very good sleuthing work." You tease with a slow clap as he rolls his eyes, motioning for you to follow him out of the dying house so he doesn't have to spend another second in this gloomy old place.

Stepping into the daylight he turns to you, the ghost of a humored smile gracing over his lips, "I would have gotten there eventually." He sasses back, using your own words against you, "Maybe this Bruxa is a family friend."

You scoff, "I wish, these type of bloodsuckers are more feral and less elegant, they're a subspecies so I won't feel bad about killing it, not that that's ever stopped me before. But still, they're deadly cunts who kill whatever has a heartbeat, only silver will take them down." You take a step forward, pushing your pointer finger against his leather armored chest, "So you better be on your guard tonight, I'd rather not travel alone with the bard until he dies." You snort, setting your arm down once again, "Or I kill him first."

"I'll be ready." Confirms Geralt with a knowing tinge of confidence, much to your amusement at his self-assuredness, "The sun doesn't set for another couple hours, why don't we head back into town and tell our bard of the plans, hm?"

"Yeah alright." You reply, beginning to walk back the way you came, "Jask is definitely not joining us tonight. That idiot would be dead in a heartbeat, I mean seriously...these nasty bitches whole thing is appearing as harmless attractive women before...blah!" You pounce at Geralt, squeezing his muscular bicep before letting go just as quickly, "You're ass is dead. And torn to shreds like a piece of meat in a starving dogs cage, not a pleasant way to go at all."

Geralt chuckles at your dramatic antics as the two of you travel back to the town; Jaskier was luckily fine with staying behind, unsurprisingly he happened to have found himself a lady friend, who was all too satisfied once learning her new lover would be staying the night once more. Soon enough, dusk had settled over the land and you and your Witcher began the hunt.

Taking silent steps through the forest as you both walked across the beaten down trail leading into the sad abandoned village, the two of you go to stand behind a large oaken tree while your eyes wander over the broken houses. Your silver dagger clutched tightly in your hand as the other one presses against the rough bark.

Geralt's armored back touches yours as the two of you watch from opposite sides of the tree, "Y/N you hear anything?" Whispers Geralt.

"No."

"Smell anything?"

"No."

"See anything?"

"Ask me something again and I'll shove a stick up your ass."

"Noted."

Another fifteen minutes would go by before your superior hearing would pick up the supposed sound of something brushing past some leaves from the treetops across the destroyed houses. Your hand grips the dagger tighter as you listen more intently, it moves slowly, a branch creaks as it sits atop it. Then the wood creaks again, more leaves are brushed aside as you suddenly realize where this fucker is headed, the town!

"Oh, fuck." You whisper yell, not even aware that you just said that out loud.

"What? What is it Y/N, did you hear something?"

"The bitch is in the trees, she's going for town." You pause searching for your words, "Uh, be ready I'm going to lure her out into the open." You rush before taking a step forward, stopping to turn towards a confused Geralt as he studies your face, "Don't, uh...get bitten or killed. Love you, good luck."

He's left to his thoughts as you swiftly race across the muddy yard in a blur before jumping onto a half standing thatched roof, you stay low as your crimson irises scan the tree line in search of the Bruxa, it doesn't take long before you spot a beautiful pale black haired woman looking in the opposite direction as she stays perched on a thick branch. You smirk, your fangs showing in the moonlight as you decide to be as boldly annoying as you can.

Rising to your full height, you stare at the beautiful bastard before yelling, "Hey! You big ugly horse fucker!" The Bruxa immediately snaps her attention over to you, her yellow eyes glaring down at you before she turns from an attractive young woman into a terrifying lady demon.

She screeches, jumping down from her perch before making a hasty beeline in your direction, you jump, just as she narrowly misses your face with her long sharp nails. You gently land upon the muddy ground, the growling Bruxa eyeing you hungrily as she stands once again, her body facing you with great malice, lips curling in a snarl, hands balling into angry fists.

You smirk, feet planted firmly in the earth as you grip your dagger tight, "Come on you pale faced cunt, come get me." You taunt as she hisses in fury before darting in your direction, you twist to the side, slashing her arm as you skid in the dirt, facing her once more.

Her face whips around to find yours as she grunts in pain, the silver burning her skin as she charges you once more, this time you launch yourself into the air. Just as she grabs for your feet, missing them by mere inches while you quickly flip above her head, you land, facing her. But before she has time to attack you once again, Geralt races out of the tree line and slashes the back of the Bruxa with a fury enough to turn you on if not for the current circumstance. A blood curdling scream rips through the frosty air as she whips around with lightening speed, grabbing Geralt's sword less arm before thrusting him across the yard to your left.

Her feet move inhumanly quick as she follows her downed silver haired prey, instinctively you throw your dagger, it makes a strong thwack sound as it sinks into the pale flesh of the feral vampire's thigh. She stumbles back, falling to the ground as she screams in agony, all before standing up once again and keeping as still as a statue, staring you down like a wolf to her prey.

You ball your fists, not sure what to do now since your only weapon is gone, you shrug, "No hard feelings?" You jest before she growls, her feet bounding against the earth as she quickly tackles you to the ground faster then you're able to blink.

Damn, vampires are fast.

She bares her fangs doing her best to chop at your exposed skin, her hands trying to claw desperately at your everything as you hold her forearms tightly in your grasp, droplets of spit fall upon your face as you grimace in disgust. Geralt where the fuck are you? She angrily struggles in your fists as her face desperately snaps at your own, inches apart she just misses your skin, a moment later do you sigh in relief as she's ripped from your grasp and thrown across the rocky ground.

You jump to your feet, only to watch in awe as Geralt and the Bruxa fight with one another in the center of the destroyed town, she slashes and bites at him as he punches and gets in some hits with his silver sword. But soon enough does she have him on his back, his sword only a few feet away, just out of reach as she pounces on him in a fury.

Instantly she tears at his black pants, ripping them open from his lower right hipline to his knee, he kicks her away before she lunges for him once again. Geralt scoots back just as she smacks her taloned hand right where is crotch was, not even a split second ago.

"Y/N!" Shouts Geralt with wide eyes, "My sword."

Wiping blood from your nose you take swift steps forward, he braces for the worst right as you grab a fistful of black hair, yanking hard as you pull her to the ground, your other hand closing tightly around her throat as her yellow eyes expand in surprised rage.

You pin her down, squeezing tight as she squirms from beneath you, her thin muscled arms reaching for your neck as you force your face away from her sharp nails, "You get your fucking sword!"

He lets out an annoyed huff before scrambling for the fallen blade, grasping it in his strong hands as she digs her claws into your clothed arms, you yelp in pain, losing your grip on her neck. She shrieks again before you suddenly get cracked in the forehead by the bitch's own skull, you see stars as she uses this opportunity to kick you in the chest, hard. You let out a breathy gasp before stumbling backwards across the dirty path, your head falling onto Geralt's boots, he looks down as you stare up at him in a daze. Your labored breaths coming out as a wheeze.

You blink, trying to focus on his blurry physique, "Fucking ouch." You growl through clenched teeth as he hastily pulls you to your feet.

"Watch out." Warns your Witcher before leaving your side to tear into the furious Bruxa.

"Thanks for the forewarning, very helpful." He ignores your annoyed jest, conveniently slashing off the head of the damn bitch before your very eyes. He's breathing heavily as he towers over the bloody mess, golden eyes finding your irritated ones as you pick up your silver dagger, "Great work, bravo, well done." You deadpan, giving your man a less then enthusiastic round of applause.

Lowering the weapon to his side he glances down at his slashed pants before finding your eyes once again, "Almost got me." Chuckles Geralt with a small smile.

Rolling your eyes you break out into a grin, "Oh yes, then we would have really had a problem."

Yennefer snickers as you end the tale, an amused laugh falling from your lips as you sit up once again, "After that we told the town, which of course they were surprised but nonetheless ever grateful, giving us a nice bag of coin. Geralt got some new pants, Jaskier got some more writing material, and I got a solid reminder that I am not invincible when it comes to creatures like a Bruxa. Vampires, huh."

Yennefer nods, shaking her head as she smiles, "That's...more then I'd ever encountered. Better you then me." She muses.

You sigh, a small tired smile pulling at the corners of your lips, "Those were the best times though, hunting, traveling, being with those two idiots. I do miss them, a lot actually."

Her lavender irises fall upon your saddened gaze as you watch people converse happily with one another, a mother tucking her child into a makeshift straw bed, you suddenly feel much sadder then before, "You will see them again, I know it Y/N."

Shifting your scarlet eyes to her shadowed face, you lightly tap the edge of your mug, "Hopefully I won't see a Bruxa again, fucking cunts. But yes, thank you for the words of encouragement and...friendly counselling, I'm going to bed." You scoot off of the grassy ledge, standing on the soft earth as you turn to Yennefer, "Right here's good enough. Also, not to worry, I don't snore."

She watches as you lay upon the ground, others doing the same as the night progresses, deciding to follow your example she moves to lay a couple of feet from you, pulling a foresty green blanket from out of a nearby bag, "Won't you get cold?"

Laying on your back you look up at the stars, "I've never felt cold before actually."

She lays down, an amused burst of air flowing out of her nostrils, "Right, half vampire. Well, goodnight then you odd freak of nature." Playful sarcasm dripping from every word.

You lightly chuckle, "Night, you insane fucking witch." The two of you share a humorous moment together before falling into a comfortable silence, the both of you trying your best to fall asleep before the sun rises, bringing danger on the fiery horizon.

—-

You awaken to the shouting of men nearby, opening your eyelids do you raise yourself up into a sitting position as a massive fiery orange ball of light begins its decent from the great blackness of sky. Right in your very direction, you can hear it sizzling as your eyes grow wide in fear.

"Oh fuck!" You cry just as Yennefer throws her blanket to the side, reaching out her hands just in time to abruptly halt the death ball of enchanted flame before it can incinerate the whole yard of sleeping people. Her face is pained as she throws it to the left in mid-air, the tiny sun bursting into a beautiful explosion over the trees, safely away from everyone else.

In an instant are you up, both yourself and Yennefer screaming for everyone to rise and prepare for the beginning assault. The grassy grounds are covered in racing frantic bodies filled with frightful screams. Another fireball would be thrown at you all, and deflected just the same, nothing more coming about for the rest of the night. Nilfgaard keeping you all on your toes till the dawn.

Now here you are in the early hours of the morning, the sun illuminating the landscape as you follow the mages around the castle while they figure out a plan of attack. Everyone keeps low behind the walls as you'll quickly walk down some stairs, no roof to keep anyone adequately hidden.

"Stay low. We don't know what other tricks they may have." Warns Vilgefortz as you follow behind him, more mages rushing to a halt on the stone steps as you all look out over the forest in the direction that those damned flames came from last night.

"Maybe it's over." Says Triss, but you know better. This is just the beginning.

"No. Fringilla's just getting started." Whispers Yennefer.

"It hasn't been two days yet." States Sabrina, "How is Nilfgaards army here already?"

Vilgefortz gets up, "Doesn't matter. We can't wait for the Northern Kingdoms. We have to fight."

You chuckle, "There's only 22 of you left, those other cowards fled in the night like little mice chased by some housecat. Guess some heat was too much to handle." You quip as one mage stands, claiming with confidence that's he's not going anywhere, others agreeing as well. You suddenly feel uneasy, sorcery in the woods, snapping your attention over to the forest your crimson eyes go wide at the sight of white mist flowing throughout the trees, "Uh, what the fuck?"

"There coming!" Shouts a mage in fear.

"It's starting!" Exclaims another in excitement.

I hate magic.

In seconds is everyone up and moving to their assigned stations right before your very eyes. Leaving you alone to watch the strange unnatural fog slowly make its way closer and closer to the stronghold.

Times seems to go fast, in the next twenty-five minutes has the archers and people with slingshots wrecked havoc upon marching Nilfgaardian soldiers in the woods. No doubt giving them an explosive ending before their time in battle has even begun. Yennefer directs the mages assault from her position high up in the tallest tower with the best view. Your eyes shift from the nearing wood line where the real danger lurks to the grassy courtyard below where people are hustling back and forth, racing to their duties. You walk upon the castle ledges, high up above the sweating foreheads of the mages and archers as you make your way over to the tallest part of the Elven Keep. Gliding up to her level, you softly land with atop the wooden landing.

She appears quite distraught and panicky as you study her body language, she turns to you, tears in her lavender eyes, "Vilgefortz, he's..."

What is that fucking swooshing sound?

"Portal!" You shout, turning your body to look over the other ledge, just as you'd sensed, a large swirling portal has materialized from the earth. A second later do you watch in horror as arrows fly up from its center, thwacking into nearby mages and villagers. Killing them instantly.

Fearful tears fall from Yennefer's eyes as you feel a surge of rage forming within you at these grisly acts of violence. She quickly regains her bearings enough to telepathically speak to Tissaia before the heiress is cut off by something or someone in the woods. You can hear as more and more mages are being slaughtered from beyond the Keep's walls as they run to the stronghold for cover, Yennefer calls out to them but it's no use, they're already dead.

A gate has been breached!

You want to do something but you can't bear to leave Yennefer's side in such dangerous times, but hearing the screams and wails of agony from the brave people around you is enough to shift your mind. You must help them, now is the time.

"Triss! The gate! Can you buy us time?" Shouts Yennefer aloud, though you know she's speaking telepathically to Triss.

Tearing your eyes away from dying Nilfgaard soldiers and mages alike do you place a comforting hand on Yennefer's shoulder, she snaps her attention to you, almost startled, "I'll help Triss. Be careful, Yenn." She tearfully nods as you lend her a small smile in return.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you run atop the castle roof, jumping down to the wooden balcony where the archers are, you race past them before bolting down the steps and into the grassy courtyard where a gate has been breached. Many armed villagers and a few Nilfgaard soldiers are currently fighting with one another, their swords clashing in desperate fury.

Across the courtyard is Triss who's struggling to cover the opened gate with thick vines as a couple dark armored soldiers get themselves tangled up in the process. A look of pure determination crosses your face as you unsheathe your silver dagger, your legs move quick as you take out a few soldiers on your way to aid Triss in her fight. Knowing you can't do much from behind the gate, you scale the stone wall with ease, falling to the grass below, you land atop the soft earth with the grace of a dancer.

A pained scream rips forth from Triss' throat as a Nilfgaardian soldier thrusts his flaming torch into her neck, in an instant have you sunk your blade into his skull, pulling the bastard away as you look down at Triss from behind the vines. Her screams of agony pierce your sensitive ears as she looks at you through glossy pained eyes, but the thudding of quickly approaching heartbeats alerts you to turn around.

Your scarlet irises lock with the green ones of a rushing soldier, his sword is bared as he charges you, adrenaline and hate coursing throughout his entire vessel. He swings the blade to his left in your direction, twisting around past him, you shove your dagger through his jugular and right back out again, a red spurt of blood bursting forth as a couple droplets dance upon your face.

The fresh scent is almost intoxicating, driving you into a more primal feeling, you turn with fire in your eyes to face three more ugly old bastards, weapons drawn and ready to strike. You hiss at them, bearing your fangs as pure fear flashes across their faces. In a blur do you end their pathetic lives before they even have a chance to realize what hit them. You hear another scream and race to the aid of a fallen mage, slicing through more Nilfgaardian men in a fury of blood and broken bones.

She fearfully thanks you, her eyes dazed as she carries herself to safety, though there is no safety here as moments later does your ear drums burst with the sounds of explosives shattering throughout the battlements where all the glass bottles of blue stone where being kept.

Oh, fuck.

Stones fly past your head as white smoke emits from the destruction, you can smell the blood and hear the cries of the ones most unlucky enough to be so close. No one alive is around you for the time being as you stand among the dead, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, some trickles of unfamiliar blood falling down the side of your face and hands. More red dripping off of your sharp silver dagger as you stand in the evening sunlight, the smell of smoke and blood on the breeze.

"Can anyone here me? Is anyone out there?" Calls Yennefer from inside your head, likewise to all the other mages, "If you can hear me, you need to get to the front line. More Nilfgaardians are coming to the woods. We can't give up. We can still fight." Her voice is tired and desperate, heavy with emotion as she makes a last fleeting effort to protect the Keep.

You catch her scent and the sound of her erratic nervous heartbeat as she emerges from the broken gate of vines, white fog pushing to the side as she walks into the daylight. She looks rough, her face and chest dirty, her left hand coated in her own blood from a wound at her side.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Races three unfamiliar heartbeats.

Three more men rush out off the bushes and whitish thick mist, heading straight for her, she thrusts her opened palm into the air. Twisting her hand, the men fall dead one by one at her beautiful display of chaos.

Her lavender eyes trail across the battlefield, landing on you, you're speckled with the ruby red blood of dead Nilfgaardian men. A mess of red coating your lips as a trail of it wanders down your chin to your throat from when you let yourself have a little taste of Nilfgaards finest.

You slowly walk over to her side, she swallows, her throat is dry, nonetheless you lend her a hopeful smile, "You're ability to still look this good covered in dirt and blood is honestly impressive." The tiniest of smiles gives you a small sign of hope on her face, "I've cleared this area but as you've said, more are in the woods. I can still hear them, they're close."

"Thank you." Her voice is hoarse as she lowly nods, her voice becoming distant as she looks out into the wood line, "I need to find Tissaia."

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #of monsters and men fic #Yennefer of Vengerberg #yennefer

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flannels-and-fannypacks · 4 years ago

Text

Will They Won’t They | Part 2/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7.5k

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears & ANGST

A/N: hey babes it’s drea posting :) i hope you enjoy this part as much as mimi and i did writing it! again, if you enjoy our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! and if you want to be updated, dm us to join our taglist! sending my love - drea :)

“Come on, let me take you out! We need to get you a new outfit for the gig coming up,” Rose insisted, dragging you to her car.

“Who said I was coming?” you frowned stubbornly, tugging your arms back but to no avail.

“I did, now let's go,” she strongly urged, pushing you into the backseat while she hopped in the passenger side and Luke hopped in the driver’s seat.

“Rose, he’s coming too! Oh, hell no!” you refused, giving the boy a pointed look.

“Sorry (N/N), I can’t drive this car, it doesn’t have learner’s insurance,” Rose apologized.

“Nice to see you Lady Bunny,” Luke grinned with a wink and you sighed.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with, okay?” you prompted and Luke nodded turning the keys in the ignition.

“Whatever you say bunny, you’re the boss.”

“Would you stop calling me that Patterson, it’s worse than when Reggie calls me Cookie,” you grumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Oh lighten up, at least you’ve got some cute nicknames,” Rose chuckled and reached a hand back to hold yours. “We’re gonna have a blast (N/N), just trust me.”

Walking past countless amounts of stores, it seemed as though Rose’s plan to find you something nice to wear was pointless. You and Rose had very different ideas of fashion, ideas that clashed far too much for Rose’s liking.

“There’s no way I’m wearing that!” you exclaimed, eyeing the brightly colored jacket in Rose’s hand.

“It’s so pretty though!” she insisted. “The texture, the color, the price? It’s a bargain, (N/N)!”

You rolled your eyes. “Then you buy it for yourself,” you told her, pulling out a simple knit sweater from the rack.

“You know what, I will,” Rose settled before looking at the sweater in your hand. “Oh you can’t wear that! You’ll look like a grandma who got lost at a rock concert!”

You frowned at your friend, holding the sweater to your chest. “I always wear things like this,” you pointed out, slightly hurt.

Rose tugged the sweater out of your hand and shoved it back into the rack. Luke popped his head up from the other side of the rack. “Yeah, but at a rock gig, you can’t go as your typical self. A poor little bunny like you would never survive a place like that,” he explained with a pout.

“Lord, have mercy,” you grabbed your necklace pendant and kissed it, frowning when you realized you weren’t wearing your normal silver cross.

“Is that like some white person good luck thing you picked up?” she asked suspiciously and you chuckled.

“No, I just thought I was wearing a different necklace. I don't know how I could have mistaken it.”

“What is it?” Rose inquired further, taking the pendant from your hands and looking at the details. “A horseshoe? I didn’t take you for a horse girl.”

“Yeah- no, I’m not… Reggie gave it to me in middle school, he won it at a county fair or something, I can’t remember,” you explained.

“Reggie gave it to you?” Luke inquired.

“Thought I said that already Patterson,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes.

Luke fought the urge to say something sarcastic back to you. “No, I’m just- Reggie?” he repeated. “I thought he...hates you, and vice versa.”

You walked down the aisle, skimming through the various articles of clothing. “And you’d be correct,” you told him.

“It was before you moved here,” Rose explained. “She and Reggie used to be best friends up until middle school,”

“Yep, but that’s in the past and we’re in the present so let’s focus on that,” you rushed, already feeling uncomfortable about the topic.

“No let's not,” Luke rested his forearms on the rack in front of you, resting his chin on top of them. “Tell us more,” he pleaded, pouting like a child.

You glared at the boy, tossing a sequined shirt at his face, making him stagger back. “And why should I, it’s none of your business, no offense Rose, and I’ll probably tell you at some point anyway,”

“None taken cariña,” she chuckled and continued looking for some clothing that would be appropriate for the gig.

Luke sighed, following close behind you. “But why can’t you tell me now?” he whined like a child. “I adopted you-”

“Against my will,” you cut in, flicking his forehead.

“Details,” he insisted. “I’m just saying, shouldn’t we be close now? Don’t you trust me?”

You took a deep breath. “Of course I do, Luke,” you reassured him, your patience thinning.

“Then why not tell me?” he pressed.

“Because it hurts!” you finally broke.

The two friends seemed to freeze at your sudden exclamation. The quiet small girl was cracking and revealing the broken china doll inside.

“It hurts, okay?” you repeated. “And having to tell the story of how I lost my best friend for some stupid reason that I don’t even know...it hurts beyond belief. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even care. I loved him, okay? I loved him because he was my best friend. Even when I had no one I had Reggie and I used to think that nothing in the world could ever tear us apart.” you admitted. “When we stopped talking, he took a piece of me with him. And I know that I am never going to get that back.”

Luke quietly moved over and past the racks of clothing pulling you into his chest and giving you a tight squeeze.

“Bunny I’m so sorry. I had no idea,”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No one knew,” you told him. “It’s not your fault, Luke, you were just curious.”

“Still,” Luke said. “I feel so bad. Maybe I could try and talk to him and-”

You shook your head repeatedly. “Maybe let’s not,” you countered. “It’s in the past now. There’s nothing I can really do about it and the last thing I want to do is rope my friends into this, too.”

“Well then how about this,” Rose suggested, giving you a prompt to change the topic while holding up a long sleeved white turtleneck along with an oversized black shirt sporting the album art of a famous rock band.

“I actually think I might be able to tolerate that,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“I’m hoping you have some ripped jeans at home, maybe some converse?”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not entirely hopeless,” you assured them and Rose laughed while Luke just pulled you in tighter for a brotherly hug.

“Look at you being mature! We love you, bunny,” he told you, swaying as he held you tight in his arms.

“Love you, too, I guess, Patterson,” you laughed. “Let me go, you’re crushing me!”

The second Luke pulled away, he leaned back in to ruffle your hair. “Now come on, Bunny, the gig starts in three hours. You all down for lunch?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you nodded. “Why not?” you replied.

Rose wrapped an arm around the both of you. “Anything but hotdogs,” she giggled.

“Agreed!” you quickly vetoed any other option and ran giggling with Rose to grab lunch leaving Luke to pay for the clothes. You were lucky he adopted you otherwise that would be a tricky one to get out of.

—

“I feel like this is an illegal number of questions to have on a test, it’s literally taking so long to mark these,” you grumbled to yourself, scribbling notes with red ink on the margins of the freshman biology test.

You had lost count of how many detentions had passed and lost track of how many were still to come, at this rate they could go on until the end of the year and in all honesty you probably wouldn’t notice.

You looked over at Reggie who was marking some short answer questions on a test, seeing his bright red check mark where there clearly shouldn’t have been one.

“That’s wrong”, you said, looking back down at your paper.

“What do you mean?”

“That. You marked it right, it’s wrong,”

“Why?” he asked curiously, putting his pen down so he could listen to you.

“Because,” you sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “the mitochondria is not the party house of the cell,”

“Well I say the mitochondria can do whatever it wants,” Reggie proclaimed, adding another check mark to the test. “Because it’s the boss,”

“No that’s the nucleus,”

“The what?” he formed and you banged your head on the desk in front of you,

“How in the world did you pass freshman science,”

“Like the rest of us, I cheated,” he countered and you looked at him with a shocked expression on your face. “Oh my God, lighten up Cookie, I was kidding, it’s been four years and I’ve barely taken any science classes since I just forgot,” he rolled his eyes.

You moved your head back to your work, only to toss the pen down in frustration moments later to try and massage a hand cramp.

“Stupid pen, stupid tests, stupid detention,” you grumbled under your breath, honestly feeling like you wanted to cry.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sat back in your seat, debating whether you should fake an emergency so you could just go home.

Reggie silently reached over to your pile of tests and eyeballed splitting it in half, taking the unmarked tests and placing them in his own pile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said flatly.

“Sooner we finish the sooner we can go home and it didn’t seem like you were going to go any faster,”

You stayed silent for a moment, carefully reaching for your own again before whispering, “Thanks,” to which Reggie only gave you a nod.

The silence between you both was excruciating. It shouldn’t have been this way, it should have been easy to talk to him like it always used to be.

So, you took a deep breath and unclenches your jaw, casually continuing to write while asking,

“So how’s the band?”

There was a short silence, probably due to his slight shock in you even asking or trying to have a civil conversation and his first instinct as usual was to block it.

“Why do you care?”

You rolled your eyes and continued to do your work, at least you tried that was all you could do. The ball was in his court.

When he looked up and saw your tired expression he realized there really didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive at this point so with an audible sigh he answered,

“It’s great, we’re working on writing songs for our demo CD,”

You nodded and checked off some multiple choice questions before you heard Reggie clear his throat and spoke again,

“How about you? How’s the family?”

“They’re alright,” you said, your lips pressed in a thin line. “I mean as good as they can be. Things haven’t changed much.”

Reggie nodded in understanding, aware of your family’s financial situation.

“Is that why you push yourself?” he asked again. You froze, your hand holding the grading pen not moving. “Hours in the library, studying until your brain practically explodes with information.” You raised an eyebrow curiously at him, making him blush sheepishly. “I just know from uh, Mr. Mallard. He likes to talk, you and I both know that.” With a small smile on your face, you nodded.

“I guess you’re right,” you finally answered. “If I get a scholarship maybe I can at least make my way through a degree without plummeting further into debt.” You kicked aimlessly at the floor. “I just feel so guilty. Like...if I don’t do the right thing or make one stupid mistake I’ll disappoint my parents.”

Reggie frowned, setting the testing papers down. “You know you’d never disappoint your parents, Cookie” he told you. Chills went down your spine upon realizing he didn’t have the usual malice and sarcasm behind his name for you. “They would never be upset with you.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Right again, Flicka,” you sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the better term would be I would be disappointed in myself? I don’t want to fail them or anything by slacking off. They’ve already done so much for me.”

“But that shouldn’t stop you from just-” Reggie drummed his pen against his thigh as he thought of the right words to use. “living? Cookie, we’re still kids. The point of high school is to just let loose and have fun, not drown yourself in schoolwork and scholarship essays.”

You playfully flicked a paper clip in his direction. “I bet you’d know all about letting loose, wouldn’t you?” you teased.

Reggie grasped his chest, gasping in feign hurt. “You wound me, Cookie,” he dramatically exclaimed, making you giggle and roll your eyes.

As the two of you continued your light banter, you were reminded of the days you and Reggie would spend at the park, competing to see who could swing the highest between the two of you. The weight on your back lifted slightly as you started to sense a bit of normalcy, no longer at each other’s throats for any reason you could find. It felt good to talk like this with Reggie, to “let loose” as he said and finally set down all the baggage you’ve been carrying since you two stopped being best friends. Everything in that moment felt right. Stress, detention, and ungraded biology tests long forgotten.

After what seemed like hours passed, Mr. Siezlio came back to the classroom, announcing that you were done for the day. You and Reggie surprisingly continued your conversation outside of the classroom, Reggie sharing more stories of the band as you giggled with every shenanigan. However, the moment you stepped foot outside, Reggie’s composure changed.

“Alex!” you exclaimed, running over to the boy. Alex had his arms outstretched, pulling you into a friendly hug that Reggie considered far too chummy. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend, watching and making sure his hands were where he could see them.

Reggie walked over to the two, a scowl forming on his face. “Alex, what are you doing here?” he asked, bitterness visibly clear in his tone.

The blond drummer raised an eyebrow in confusion at Reggie’s attitude, but decided not to address it. “(Y/N) and I have an AP chemistry project coming up so she’s going to sleep over at my place so we can work on it.”

You grinned up at Alex. “We’re probably going to have to pull an all-nighter to get it all done tonight,” you told him, making him groan.

Reggie’s lips fell to a thin line. “Good luck trying to do that,” he muttered. “Alex falls asleep before eleven o’clock. I’d pay to see him stay up past that.”

Alex rolled his eyes playfully. “When my grade is on the line, I think I can manage,” he said. “Especially after that one experiment in class you left me to do, I think we both definitely need that A.”

“Yeah, Alex can’t do titrations for shit,”

“I tried my best,” Alex fought back.

“And what did that get us?” you pressed.

Alex’s head hung low. “Erm, a B,” he muttered.

Reggie stared at the two in disbelief. He couldn’t comprehend this ‘nerd talk.’ “A B?!” he exclaimed. “You were disappointed with a B? I would have been happy with C-,” he shook his head and pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder, preparing himself to part ways.

You shuddered at the thought of such a low grade. “I’d never even begin to imagine a C,” you said aloud.

Reggie smirked at you. “Well, you are a nerd, Cookie,” he teased, making you shove him.

“Ass,” you shot back.

“(N/N), we gotta go if we don’t wanna stay up all night,” Alex said anxiously.

You nodded, taking Alex’s hand in yours and squeezing it. Reggie glared down at your intertwined hands, anger bubbling rapidly in his chest.

“Bye, Flicka,” you cheerfully waved goodbye.

Reggie didn’t look you in the eye, only staring down at the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pocket. “Whatever, Cookie.”

—

Band practice the next afternoon -to say the least- was probably the shittiest the band had ever played. Luke and Bobby were incredibly confused why Alex continuously dropped his drumsticks and refused to make eye contact with anyone and why Reggie looked so angry that he could snap the strings of his bass.

“Okay, guys, guys! Come on we have a gig in like a week! We can’t go out there playing like this!” Luke insisted and Bobby nodded in agreement. “Alex I haven’t seen you fumble this much since we tried to play football and Reggie you currently have negative three hundred and forty-five dollars and seventy-three cents in your bank account so I would recommend loosening up on the strings because none of us can afford more.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on with you two?” Bobby added and Reggie sent a cold glare towards Alex that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

“What was that?” Luke asked, pointing in between the two boys.

“What was what?” Reggie asked, his head snapping back to send the same glare to Luke.

“Okay you two clearly have things you need to settle so get it out there,” Bobby nodded, motioning to the floor, metaphorically saying it was open for one of them to take.

Alex took a deep breath and nervously started, “Well I think it’s pretty clear Reggie is mad at me it’s just I have no idea as to why,” he shrugged his shoulders. “D-Did I eat your sandwich or something? A meatball sub maybe?”

“That’s not it, but did you? Because if you did you are dead to me,” Reggie said venomously.

“No! No, I didn’t,” he insisted quickly, very much so wanting to stay alive and not murdered at the hands of his best friend. “But what the hell is making you mad Reggie, I’ve never seen you like this,”

Luke and Bobby seemed to nod carefully in agreement and Reggie swung his bass around the strap so it was hanging from his back.

“You need to stay away from (Y/N),” Reggie said in a cautionary tone, pointing directly at Alex.

“Lady bunny?” Luke asked curiously with furrowed brows and Reggie just looked at him back with confusion before remembering the nickname.

“Yeah, I guess, but seriously Alex, you shouldn’t be with her,”

“What do you mean I shouldn’t be with her. (Y/N) and I are just friends! We’ve been lab partners since freshman year,” Alex insisted. “And in case you forgot I’m kind of really gay?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be spending time with her!” Reggie exclaimed furiously. Was he mad that you were spending time with his friends or that you seemed to be getting just as close with them as he once was with you. Right now, that was all a muddled mess in Reggie’s mind and heart so naturally, he started spewing out words that probably didn’t even have meaning at that point.

Bobby discreetly made his way to Luke. “Hey Luke,” he whispered. “I can go ask Rose to make some popcorn,” he shrugged.

“Oh yeah, for sure, and tell her to come in, she’ll wanna see this,” Luke added, equally invested, as their two other bandmates seemed to really be going at it.

“Reggie, you need to calm down. (Y/N)’s my friend, too. I don’t know any of your past, but you can’t tell me I should just drop her completely,” Alex said in a level toned voice.

“Oh don’t act like you know (Y/N) better than I do,” Reggie snapped. “I know her like the back of my hand, and I know she’s bad news.”

“Do you really even know her?” Alex pressed.

“Of course I do! Who was there when she broke her ankle? Me. Who was there when her fish died? Me! And who was there when everyone else wasn’t?”

“Not you anymore,” Alex cut in softly. Reggie's rant stopped short. The teen stopped pacing to look his friend in the eyes. “Reggie, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you have to admit to yourself, you still care about her.”

Reggie fumed silently. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Alex pressed his lips together. “I think you do, Reggie.”

“Alex you don’t get it! (Y/N) and me, that’s over!” his anger had sent him over the top. “Stop trying to say something’s there! It’s not!”

“Listen to yourself Reggie, just listen to yourself talk! If you heard what I’m hearing I think you’d have a different opinion,”

“Just-Just!...” Reggie pursed his lips and grabbed the neck of his bass pulling it back in front of him. “Can we just take it from the top,”

“Y’know Reggie I think Alex has a point,” Luke butted in, remembering his previous conversation with you, realizing how much losing Reggie had actually affected you.

“Oh joy,” Reggie sighed.

“Just hear me out,” Luke continued, regardless of Reggie’s reluctance. “Why did you get into music in the first place?”

“Because I loved it,” Reggie scoffed as if it was obvious.

“No really Reg, be honest,” Bobby added. “Specifically when did you start playing music more seriously?”

Reggie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, tasting the metallic liquid in his mouth he shrugged his shoulders and flopped onto the couch.

“I got into it after I stopped talking to (Y/N),” he admitted. “But what’s your point?” he asked.

“You don't confront your problems Reggie,” Alex explained. “You came to music because it helped you block out the fact that losing her tore you apart.”

“Well if it tore me apart then why am I still here, huh? Why am I happy? Why am I even alive? If she was my everything then how the hell am I still here?!”

“Because she’s keeping you here,” Luke whispered. Reggie turned to Luke, at a loss for words. “Because even though you two had a falling out, you know that seeing her everyday at school...you’re glad she’s okay.”

Reggie ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t know me,” he snapped back. “You don’t know what I think, or who I-I care about. You just don’t, so you can’t stop playing “mom,” Luke.”

Luke slowly approached him. “I don’t understand you,” he said truthfully. “You never open up or tell us anything. You say we don’t know you, you won’t even tell us anything. If no one knows you, then who does-“

“(Y/N)!” Reggie finally broke. The boys froze in their spots, only staring back at their struggling friend. “(Y/N), okay? She’s the only one who listened to me, the only one who cared. And now she’s gone because I pushed her away. All because I was so stupid and my pride got in the way. It’s my fault the best thing in my life is gone.”

Reggie realized what he had said and quickly pushed himself up and away from the couch.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he shook his head and tried to make his way out of the studio.

“Reggie wait!” his friends called back for him, but he shook his head and pushed his way out of the door just as Rose was heading into the studio. “Reggie come on! We’re sorry!”

Biting the inside of his cheek he cursed under his breath, knowing that they were right. He did push people away before they got too close and right now he didn’t have the strength to blame himself so he blamed you instead.

—

Reggie stormed into the almost empty library on Saturday, having had to walk to his detention from his home by the beach which was not close to say the least.

When he pushed on the door to come into the library with such force it startled you as you organized the books and put them back on the shelves.

Reggie didn’t speak to you as he tossed his things to the side and grabbed a cart, going to his designated spot in the library.

You were careful to not try and push any buttons, knowing he was in a fragile state, it was kind of obvious, but it was even harder not to address.

“Hey Flicka?” you said gently, trying to be as compassionate as possible.

“What,” he spat, shoving some books onto the shelf without much care.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, expecting to be met with barriers, that seemed to be all that comprised your relationship now. Walls, fences, barriers, and barricades.

“None of your business,” he said, his breathing slightly heavier as the tears burned in the back of his eyes and the lump grew in the back of his throat.

“I-I mean are you sure, you seem really agitated,” you noted and he didn’t respond. “Reggie you don’t have to hide anything. It can be my business if you want it to-”

“No it can’t!” he snapped, throwing the books that were in his hands on the table. You flinched at the loud noise the impact made. “It stopped being your business the second we stopped talking to each other so just leave it Cookie,” his voice carrying the same hostility it did weeks ago.

You paused for a moment, looking down at your pile of books before whispering,

“They’re fighting again… aren’t they?”

Reggie’s throat was burning, he wanted to scream into a void, empty himself of the pain because you were right, you were always right. Even when it felt like you didn’t know each other you were always there proving him wrong.

His hands started to shake and he dropped the books he had just picked up again, turning around so you couldn’t see him. Reggie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed or if he just didn’t want you to worry.

You wanted to reach over to your old friend, offer him some sort of comfort because you knew Reggie’s family and you knew how hard it was on him.

So you did the next best thing. Pulling out your MP3 player from your pocket you went over to Mr. Mallard’s speaker system and plugged it in, turning up the volume to the max, letting the soft plucking of guitar strings fill the library and the hallway surrounding you.

You went back to your pile and turned your back to him, giving him some sort of privacy, what you thought he needed.

Reggie wasn’t sure if there was another time in his life where he had listened to this song and related to it more.

So when he wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned around and saw you, he realized he didn’t want to be far away from you, he didn’t want to yell at you, he didn’t want that distance.

So he quickly pushed the chair and table with wheels out of his way before stopping right behind you, carefully reaching for your hand that was resting by your side.

When you felt his long slim fingers wrap around your own you turned around to look him in the eyes. They were still the same beautiful shade of blue and green, but unlike the last time you really looked into those eyes, they carried so much hurt. So much hurt and sadness that should never have been there in the first place.

But through it all they said I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for all of this.

And you nodded, back, accepting that apology.

So he didn’t hesitate a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around you and burying his face in your shoulder. You nearly gasped in surprise as his grip around you tightened. It was as though he was afraid of losing you, and didn’t want to let you go. Lucky for him, you felt the same.

Slowly, your hands found their way around his neck. You could feel Reggie’s tears dampen your shirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“It’s going to be okay, Reggie,” you whispered.

Reggie sniffled quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t say that,” he murmured.

“Say what?” you asked.

“Say that everything’s going to be okay,” he continued in a hushed but angry voice. “Say that everything is all sunshine and rainbows when at the end of the day my parents will still fucking hate each other while yours struggle to keep their home.”

You stiffened under his touch. His words struck a nerve in you, but you pushed down the anger in you. He was hurting, and what he needed was a friend, not a fixer.

Instead, you squeezed him tight against you. “Then, don’t think,” you said. “Clear your mind and- and forget everything. Forget your parents, forget this stupid detention and the musty smell of these ancient books, forget me.”

Reggie dug his head deeper into your chest. “I don’t want to forget you, Cookie,” he murmured. “I-I don’t want you to leave me again a-and-“

You shushed him. “I’m not leaving, Flicka,” you reassured him. “I promise.”

Reggie let out another broken sob. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I-it’s just that we both don’t have a good record with those. Promises, I mean.”

“Let’s clear the slate,” you suggested softly. “Start over to a point where all broken promises of the past are nothing but a mere memory, okay?”

Reggie nodded, placing his hands over yours. “I’d really like that Cookie,”

You smiled, removing your hand from his cheek and linking your pinky with his. It was just like when you were kids, but slightly different. This time, it had so much more meaning of hope and love. “Then take my promise to your heart, Flicka, because I’m not leaving. No matter what.”

Reggie rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and letting whatever tears had gathered to fall down his cheeks. You lifted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the spot right in between his eyes, letting your lips linger there a moment longer than they should have.

“Dance with me Cookie?” he whispered.

“Flicka, you know I suck at that,” you laughed quietly, ducking your head as your cheeks tinged red.

“Don’t worry,” he sniffed as you wiped a few of his stray tears. “I won’t leave you hanging,”

“Okay,” you breathed, allowing his hands to gently hold your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders.

As you gently swayed in the library you could vividly see two young teenagers in a brightly lit room dancing to the same song.

You could hear Reggie softly humming along with the tune, but when you opened your eyes and looked at him you were brought back to reality and realized what you needed to do,

“I’m gonna call the boys okay?” you said gently and Reggie winced. “I won’t tell them. I was just going to stay over at Rose’s place tonight so maybe we could all stay in the studio.” you suggested. “So you don’t have to go home.”

“Y-You’d do that?” he asked, a certain tone of surprise in his voice.

You pressed your lips together and nodded, pulling away from him.

Making your way to the phone behind Mr. Mallard’s desk, you dialled Rose’s house number first to ask if it was okay to have everyone over, before making the subsequent calls to Alex, Luke, and Bobby.

After dealing with the phone you checked the time. Technically you still had an hour of your detention left, but for today Mrs. Hillside just swore you to honesty.

As much as it made you anxious to do so you looked over at Reggie and raised a brow.

“Should we call it? We can walk over to Rose’s place. I told Luke to bring some comfortable clothes for you,”

“Sure,” he nodded and you hesitantly let go of his hand. For some reason it felt like it was too much at once. You just needed a few moments to yourself.

All you ever wanted was for things to go back to the way they were, but now that it seemed to be happening it was a lot to take in and Reggie sensed that so he didn’t push farther, only grabbing his bag and walking quietly by your side as you left the school through a backdoor that was locked from the outside.

The situation for you both might have been one to cause panic or worry, but right now you both relished the fact that your friends were sure to provide a wonderful distraction.

—

“Lady bunny, you’re wearing your pyjamas already?” Luke chuckled from his spot on the couch while you walked out of the washroom, day clothes folded in your arms.

“I intend on relaxing today, kidnapper, thank you very much,” you said in a matter of fact tone.

“You still wearing my shirt to bed, Cookie?” Reggie teased and you stuck your tongue out at him before retorting with,

“Still wearing that Star Wars underwear Flicka?”

“Yikes,” Alex scrunched up his nose and Reggie’s cheeks went a darker shade of red than they usually were.

“They still fit okay, it would be a waste,” Reggie fought back.

“No one wants to hear that,” Bobby grimaced while you and Rose laughed together, relaxing on the futon.

“Why don’t we play a game or something?” Rose suggested. “Just to pass time, I mean this is a sleepover isn’t it?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you nodded. “Any suggestions?”

“We could play would you rather?” Bobby said, “I mean that’s a favorite right?”

You nodded in agreement. “I haven’t played that game in a while, but I’m down.” Everyone gathered around the coffee table. Prepared to sit next to Reggie, you felt someone’s hand grab yours and tug you down. Looking to your right, you saw Luke smiling giddily at you.

“As your parent,” Luke said in a motherly tone. “I need to sit by your side in case any inappropriate language is used.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Luke,” he said.

Luke gasped, covering your ears and pulling you to his chest. “Language!” he hissed. “We have a bunny here and I don’t want you to taint her mind with your demon words. No fucks, no shits, no dicks.” You shot the boy a look before pushing him off you.

“Would someone tell this guy I’m not five?” you rolled your eyes only to have one of your cheeks pinched by Reggie while he snickered and said,

“You sure look like it,” You threw an empty solo cup at him.

“Who wants to go first?” Rose asked with a wide grin.

“Oh me!” Luke exclaimed, raising his hand and waving it around wildly.

“Sometimes I don’t know what you’re on,” Alex sighed and the rest of the group laughed.

“Okay, okay, um, Bobby would you rather smash your guitar or have it run over by a semi?”

“That’s just cruel,” Bobby looked at Luke wide eyed and he just gave him a smirk in return. He sighed heavily before saying, “I’d like to think if I smashed it, it would be from rocking out so hard so I’ll go with that one,”

“Okay now it’s your turn,” you raised your brows at Bobby.

“Alright, (N/N), would you rather be locked in a room with Reggie or Luke?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Both are horrible options,” you began, making the boys yell out in response. “But the real question is: would I rather be babied to oblivion or be murdered?” you thought for a moment.

“I wouldn’t murder you!” Reggie exclaimed. “That’s too easy,” he smirked and you gasped, slapping his arm.

“Hush you!”

“What would you do to torture her then?” Rose asked curiously, knowing exactly what buttons she was pushing.

“Well see if you really want to get someone you make them fall in love with you and then break their heart,” Reggie explained casually.

“Oh that is cold Reggie,” Alex said with wide eyes.

“But I wouldn’t do that to (N/N), I think she deserves a murder,” Reggie shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip from his cup.

“Put me out of my misery,” you nodded. “Alright, I’d go with Reggie,”

Luke pouted, leaning his head on your shoulder. “But we’d have fun, Lady Bunny,” he whined. “Don’t you love me?”

You scoffed, flicking his forehead. “Barely,” you joked. Luke just grabbed you by the arms and brought you up to him, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek.

“I’m your mom you have to love me,” he poked and you made a face, wiping your cheek after he had kissed you. “Hey! That was a sign of motherly love, how dare you!” You smirked, flipping him off before continuing the game.

After what seemed like hours passed, you and your friends got bored of the game once you started to run out of ideas.

Alex was nearly passed out on the floor, but Bobby nudged him awake. “Can we play a new game now?” Bobby sighed. “I know would you rather was my idea, but I’m kinda tired of it.”

You nodded tiredly, before your mind clicked with an idea,

“Wait how about MASH?” you asked curiously. “Reggie and I used to play it all the time,”

Reggie’s lips quirked up to a smile. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I’m still hoping I get that mansion and forty horses.”

“I don’t understand how you play rock music. Were you born in Montana or something?” Rose chuckled.

“Pfft,” Reggie scoffed while you laughed. He sighed and finally conceded with a nod. “Yeah okay, I’m not from here,”

“Wait you’re not!” Luke exclaimed and Reggie shook his head.

“I’m from Wyoming,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I moved here when I was like...four.”

Bobby’s face turned sour. “Wyoming doesn’t exist,” he said stubbornly.

Alex coughed, “Wait you don’t actually think that do you?”

“It’s a joke Alex, and you ruined it,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “But seriously Reg, Wyoming?” he frowned. “Like what do you even do there?”

“Live on a ranch,” Reggie sighed longingly and you tried to stifle a laugh, prompting him to put you in a headlock and ruffle your hair.

“You’re laughing right now, but no one knows where you’re from,” he smirked.

“Oh Reggie, you’re a dick.”

“Language!” Luke exclaimed, trying to cover your mouth while you protested and Reggie explained that you also were not a California native.

“(N/N)’s not from California either, she moved here when she was five,” Reggie explained.

“From where?!” Alex asked, completely invested.

“I thought we were gonna play MASH?” you tried to interject, but no one was listening to you and Reggie still had you locked under his arm. “Flicka don’t do this!”

“She’s from Canada!” he grinned and you groaned. “And the town she lived in is called Saint-Louis du Ha!-Ha!”

“Reginald!” you protested, finally wrestling yourself out of his grip while he laughed uncontrollably.

“The city has two exclamation marks in its name!”

“Guys,” Luke started seriously and Reggie’s laughter faded to silence as you listened to the band leader. “I-I have a confession to make. I’m also not from here,”

“You’re not?!” Bobby was coming close to losing it, having not known about his friends.

“I’m also from the Great White North,”

“Wait really?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m from Fredrickton,” Luke grinned.

“No way!” you exclaimed giddily. “So are you Acadian?”

“Proudly so,” he nodded and you gave him a high five.

“Canucks unite!” you laughed, not noticing the pointed glare Reggie was sending Luke.

Bobby pulls his hair in frustration. “Okay, who else isn’t from California here?”

Rose sheepishly raised her hand, much to Bobby’s disbelief. “Puerto Rico?” she answered, more so like a question.

“Dude,” Alex said, shaking his head. “She has a strong Puerto Rican accent.”

Bobby stood up abruptly, storming off. “I’m out of here!”

You stifled back a giggle, calling out, “Bobby! Where are you going?”

“TO THE FUCKING GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE,” he yelled back. “MAYBE I’LL FIND ACTUAL CALIFORNIANS THERE.” You rolled his eyes at his dramatics. You knew he would probably make it out the door before coming back in. The boy was far too lazy to make the drive, anyway.

“I wonder if he realizes that I’m from California, too?” Alex pondered aloud. The entire group burst into laughter.

“Let’s just start the game without Bobby,” Rose suggested. “Who wants to go first?”

“I can go,” Reggie nodded, grabbing a scrap of paper and writing down the things for each category.

“Okay hit me with some career options,”

“Stripper,” you said, slapping his back and he rolled his eyes, but still followed the rules and wrote it down under occupations. “You’d be a terrible stripper though, you can’t dance and you have terrible balance,”

“Okay I’d be an amazing stripper, but that’s besides the point,” Reggie countered and continued writing all the names and places his friends wanted thrown in his options. “Alright numbers now right?” You hummed in response.

“Do five,” you said with a toothy grin. “That was how old we were when we met.”

Reggie nodded, starting to go down each list and circling whatever he landed on. At one point as he counted, his face turned red as he hid the paper from you and everyone else’s view. Once he was done, you tugged on his arm.

“Come on, Flicka,” you teased. “Show us what you got!”

Reggie cleared his throat, “I mean is that really necessary?” he asked cautiously.

“Come on it can’t be that bad,” Alex insisted.

“Um, well it’s not bad perse,”

“How do you know that word?” Luke teased and Reggie rolled his eyes. “Just tell us,”

“Alright well I got a house, a music teacher, two kids, five horses and I’ll live here,” he nodded, trying to avoid a certain topic.

“Who do you marry?” Rose asked curiously.

“No one?” he answered unsurely.

Rose rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t an option,” she reminded him. “Come on, it’s just a game, Reg. Just show it.” When Reggie refused to move, Rose resorted to snatching the paper from his hands.

“Rose!” he cried out, reaching for the paper.

The girl only held the paper far away, squinting her eyes to read the circled mark. “It’s (N/N)!” she squealed. Rose and Alex high fived each other while you dug your into Reggie’s chest, completely flustered. As a response, Reggie wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head against yours.

“It’s okay (N/N),” he said loud enough for the rest to hear. “We can just murder them,” he smirked and they all burst into a fit of outrage, during which Reggie leaned in closer to you, his lips coming close to your ear while he whispered,

“It’s nice to take a break every once in a while, right?”

You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, Cookie can let loose,” you joked.

“Of course she can,” he smiled, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Oh my God did you see that!” Rose pointed to you and Reggie and he stuck his tongue out at her.

“What can’t a guy hug a gal?” he countered and you just placed your hand on Reggie’s mouth before he made it first, prompting him to teasingly bite your finger.

“Flicka!” you complained while Luke immediately came to your rescue.

“Guys! You gotta leave at least a foot for Jesus, come on this is beginner stuff,” he poked. Luke swatted Reggie’s hand away. “Get your hand off my daughter. I’m not ready to be a grandmother just yet, Peters.”

“Luke,” you whined at his extra comment.

“If they think this is bad they should’ve seen the dance Mrs. Leona made us do,” Reggie nudged you and you agreed with a chuckle.

“Since when are you guys in the dance class?” Bobby asked, coming back into the studio with more snacks.

“We’re not, Mrs. Hillside assigned under Mrs. Leona’s care for a day and we helped choreograph a dance for the sophomores next semester,” you explained, totally not realizing the implications of what you had said.

“You know they’re gonna make us dance now right?” Reggie sighed.

“Shit, they are, aren’t they,”

With a loud groan you both stood up and Reggie took your hand.

“From the top Cookie?”

“From the top,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

Rose reached for the speakers, connecting her MP3 to them and playing the song.

“Swing those hips, Reginald!” Luke whooped, reaching for the bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table. Reggie mouthed a swear to his friend as his hands found his place on your hips.

“Watch where you’re putting those hands!” Rose warned. Rolling his eyes, Reggie teasing dropped his hands lower, only for you to swat them away.

“I’ll still bite you,” you hissed playfully.

“Promise?” he shot back.

Once the music started to play, you felt Reggie’s hand trail down your arm. Every move was burned to your memory as you danced along with Reggie. The comments of your friends -either cheering or teasing- escaped your mind.

And all that you wanted was for the night to never end.

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pascalscenarios · 4 years ago

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YOU & I (Frankie Morales x Reader)

YOU & I (Prequel to The One)

High School/Military! Frankie Morales x High School/College! Reader

Summary: In 1996, your a Freshman in high school. It’s your first day and a long time friend, Frankie helps you throughout your day.

Warning: 3 year age gap **Frankie and Reader do not date in high school** swearing

Words: 3,318

Author Note: A prequel for The One! I thought it would be cute to write what Frankie and Reader relationship was like when they were younger, how they started developing feelings for each other and the young stupid drama they got themselves into. I hope you like it. Enjoy - K

CHAPTER ONE

HIGH SCHOOL 1997

“Alright, say ‘cheese’!” Your mother says holding up a camera, snapping photos of you. It was your first day of high school. You were already mortified as it was. You had no intention of looking back at this moment later in life.

“Mom, enough already!” you groaned standing in front of the front door, covering your face.

“Sweetheart, it’s your first day of high school! You’ll only have this moment once! And you look so cute!” She says admiring your outfit. You wore a white shirt and a floral slip dress over top and converse, a scrunchie in your hair securing your half up half down hairstyle.

“It’s not something I'm gonna want to remember!” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh come on! Don’t be like that! Just one more!” she says looking in the viewfinder.

“Mom” you groaned.

Before she could take one last photo, a car pulled up in front of your house, honking its horn.

“Come on freshie, we’re gonna be late!” Your cousin Santiago says standing up out of his blue Jeep Wrangler. You were saved.

“Gotta go, Mom, bye!” You said quickly rushing towards the Jeep.

“You guys be careful and have a nice first day!” She called from the porch.

“We will Auntie!” Santiago says plopping himself back down in his seat.

You open the door hoping inside, placing your Jansport's backpack down by your feet.

“Wait! Let me take a picture!” She shouts.

“Oh my god, please go! Driveaway! She's been taking pictures all morning!” You tell him and you sink in the passenger seat in embarrassment.

“Mom, please! We gotta go! I’ll see you later!” You shouted as Santi pulled out of there.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he drove down the street.

“She’s so embarrassing!” You groan.

“Come on, she means well and besides this is a big day for you, you're starting high school!” He nudges you.

“You’re the one to talk to, it’s your senior year!”

“Nothing I haven't done before, how are you feeling?”

“I don’t know...a little nervous I guess.”

“Don’t sweat it, High school is just like middle school except it's bigger, everyone's older and things are harder.”

“Gee, that sure washes my anxiety away.” you roll your eyes.

“Seriously, you’ll be fine and beside you’ll have me and Frankie around”

Franciso Morales was your cousin's best friend since elementary school. They’re three years older than you. You had first met Frankie when you were seven. Santiago hated when you tagged along with him and Frankie, but Frankie never seemed to mind. He always made sure to include and invite you in everything they did. The three of you have always been close, but the bond between you and Frankie was different. Frankie has always had a soft spot for you.

Santiago and Frankie still hung out with you when they were in middle school, but once they started high school and you entered middle school, you hardly saw them. They were too cool to hang out with you, who was stuck in the awkward phase of still being a kid and but on the verge of being a teenager.

For the first time in what seems like forever, your guys' lives will align once again. You weren’t gonna lie, it kinda hurt that they stopped hanging out with you all the time, but maybe since you’re starting high school, they’ll no longer treat you as a kid and they’ll start seeing you as mature.

You had no idea when the last time you saw Frankie. You hadn’t seen him all summer since he was working a summer job lifeguarding at a pool.

“Alright, Welcome Navarro...Here’s to the next 4 years in hell” Santiago laughs and he turns into school.

You noticed everyone was hanging outside in front of the school. Students sat or stood in the walkway, the font steps, or on the lawn.

Santiago weaved his way through the parking lot, waving and greeting people he drove by. He parked his car into his Senior parking stall and hopped out. You grabbed your schedule out of your bag and out of the car.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. You walked towards the back of his car staring at your school. The nerves were kicking in. You just wanted today to be easy sailing.

You looked down at your schedule.

First Period | McIntyre, Molly | Ceramics | Building G RM: 209

“Hey Santiago, can you show me where the G building is?” You say as you scan over your schedule.

“Santi?” You look beside you. He was gone. You glance towards the school, noticing he had already made his way through the parking lot, and over to a group of guys hanging around by the entrance, and they head inside. Most likely his friends and teammates from the swim team.

You sigh and roll your eyes. Guess you’ll be figuring things out on your own. You trek through the parking lot and make your way down the walkway leading to the entrance of your school.

As you walk down the hallway you notice the hustle and bustle. Santiago wasn’t lying when he said high school was bigger. Students standing around by their lockers catching up with friends jocks loudly parading around, asserting their dominance in the halls, and students trying to get where they needed to be like you.

The bell rings, and the hall quickly floods with students headed in every direction. You had people bumping into your shoulders and pushing from behind to move. You had no idea where you were supposed to go, and you only had 5 minutes to get there.

The hallway slowly started to clear up as everyone went into the classroom. You needed someone to give you directions and spotted the Janitor pushing his cart.

“Excuse me!” you said to walk up to him. “Hi sorry to bother you, but I’m lost. Could you tell me where the G building is?”

“Yeah, you go down this hall, take a left. It will lead you outside of the main building. When you get outside there should be a very colorful building with a bunch of art displays, that's where you're headed.”

“Thank you!” The bell rang. Oh, shoot.

“Yeah, no problem! You better get going now!”

You give the janitor another thank you and wave, and quickly speed walk in the path he gave you.

When you make it outside, you spot the colorful building with the art displays and fixtures outside. You made your way inside and headed to the second floor.

“207...208...209,” you said as you reached your room.

You open the door walking inside. Students were all seated at one of the five long rectangular tables in the middle of the classroom, everyone was staring at you, even the teacher. You wish the floor would swallow you up.

“And you are?” Mrs. McIntyre asked.

You give her your full name.

“Well...I don’t like tardiness, so next time get to class on time yeah? I’ll let you off with a warning. You can take a seat.”

You heard some snickering in class as you made your way over to an empty spot at one of the tables.

“Alright Class, I want you to find a partner from another table, and I want you to discuss what you did over the summer and create a drawing using the paper and material in front of you. You have the entire class period.” Mrs. McIntyre instructs.

With that, everyone got up and moved around, gravitating towards the people they already knew or people they have never met. Everyone from your table had left. You grabbed the poster paper, and a pencil. You frowned as you noticed everyone had already gotten their partners.

“Come on, where is the gorgeous smile I love so much?” You look over to someone walking toward you. They wore white shirts, jeans, sneakers, and their navy blue letterman jacket, a bag slung over their shoulder. Their hair was short but shaggy and they had a giddy smile plastered on their face.

Your face lit up seeing him. “Frankie!”

“Hey Smiles”. Smiles was his nickname for you when you were kids because you always managed to have a smile on your face even through tough times. Only he and Santiago were allowed to call you that.

“Do you have a partner? He asked.

“No”

“Okay good” he tosses his bag on the ground, pulls out the chair, and turns slightly toward you as he sits beside you. He pulls you into a hug. You loved Frankies hugs. They were always so warm and loving.

“Ugh, look at you, a Freshie now” he was pulling away, rustling your hair.

“Hey, quit it!” You say swatting away his hand.

“How’ve you been Smiles? Excited, you're starting high school?”

“Been good. Yeah, I guess. I don’t know anyone though. All my friends went to Western, which sucks”

“I’m sure you’ll make new friends fast. You’re a likable person...” He smiles.

“How was your summer?” you ask to pick up the pencil and begin doodling on the poster paper.

He picks up a pencil and starts to draw as well. “Busy. I spent the whole summer yelling at kids and saving them from drowning in the deep end. They all think they can survive the diving board.”

“Must have been stressful.”

“Yeah it was, how about you? How was your summer?” He grabbed some colored pencils, adding color to his drawing.

“It was okay. I didn’t do anything exciting. I hung out with my friends and third wheeled with Santiago and his summer fling” you rolled his eyes.

“Oh god,” he started to laugh.

“Yeah...They made out the whole time no matter where we went. The only reason why I tagged along was because my aunt forced him to invite me to places and you know how he gets when I bud along on things…”

“I’m sorry. If I wasn’t so busy with work, I would have come along to keep you company.”

“It’s whatever. I ended up leaving them to doing my own thing while they...did whatever”

“Santiago man..” he shakes his head

“Tell me about it” you laugh

…

Frankie and you continued to draw and catch up the whole class period. You hadn’t realized how fast time went by until the bell rang.

“Alright, class write your names on the back of your paper and turn in whatever you have”

Frankie started collecting the materials, putting them back in their designated area on the table while you quickly wrote your names on the back.

You pick up your bag off the floor and slip your arms through the strap. You walk up to the front, handing in your poster Frankie follows you out into the hallways.

“Alright, what class do you have now?” He says. He takes your schedule from your hands and looks it over.

The two of you begin through the hallway and down the stairs.

“English with Mr. Hastings is the main building, A, second floor. He’s an ass and his class is pretty hard. You have to read a whole bunch of novels and write papers...” He continues to look over your schedule.

You both made it outside of G building. “Okay, you got Ms. Omura for science in C in the building right here. She’s cool. If you really wanna be her favorite, bring her chocolate...Coach Davis for PE, his class is in the gym. Mentally prepare yourself because you’re gonna be doing a lot of running. Mr. Fox for History in the main building. His class is super boring but easy. You just watch old films and documentaries and he sleeps through the whole class. Oh, and you’re taking French with Madame Keller. She’s in the N building, but I don't know what she's like. I'm in my fourth year Spanish.”

“You‘ve been taking Spanish for the last four years? You already speak Spanish. You’re bilingual.”

“Yeah, it’s an easy class for me then. Straight A’s baby” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for your help Frankie”

“Yeah don’t sweat it. Alright, I gotta head across campus, I’ll catch you later alright!”

“Bye” you give him a small smile and wave.

…

It was lunchtime. You were holding the tray in your hand, looking around in the loud and crowded lunchroom. You had no idea where to sit. Everyone had their clique. You noticed Santiago and Frankie were sitting with their friends.

You and Frankie make eye contact. He smiles at you, motioning with his head for you to come and sit with them. Your eyes widen, shaking your head no.

Frankie furrows his eyebrows, and tilts his head again, motioning for you to come. You sigh walking over.

“H-Hi '' you said standing in front of their table. All their eyes were on you. Some of the guys had confused or surprised looks. They were wondering who you were and why a freshman was at their table. Your heart pounded against your chest. This was a bad idea.

“Smiles, come sit by me-“ Frankie sat at the edge, but slid over on the bench so you had a place to sit.

“Frankie” Santiago says sounding annoyed, looking at him like he was crazy. You know he didn’t want you sitting with him and the guys.

“Come on, Santi it's their first day-”

“No” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s okay!” You quickly said. “I just wanted to say hi, I’ll see you guys later”. You rush away embarrassed and walk away to a nearby empty table.

You heard a bit of a commotion and protest from the guys. You look up to see leaving the table and walking towards you. Frankie sets his lunch tray down on the table, dropping his bag on the ground, and sits across from you. He picks up his sandwich to eat the rest.

“What are you doing?” You asked. You weren’t expecting me to come to sit with you.

He was just about to take a bite, his mouth gaped open “Uh... I’m about to eat my lunch” he says before chomping down into his food.

“I mean like... why are you sitting with me?”

“Am I not allowed to sit with you?” His mouth was full.

“No it’s just- shouldn’t you be sitting with Santiago and your friends?”

He swallows the bits he was chewing and sets his half-eaten sandwich down on his plate, picking up his milk “What? Are you embarrassed by being seen with me or something?” he says teasingly.

“The other way around actually. Shouldn’t you be embarrassed?”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because you're a Senior eating lunch with a Freshman? Santiago clearly didn’t want me to sit with you guys. Look around, everyone’s staring”

He looks around the cafeteria. You were right, people were staring, even some of the swim team guys. He rolled his eyes. He could care less what people thought.

“Let them stare. I don’t care and besides, you're my friend. I’ve known you since we were kids. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. Never have, never will be. Santiago is a dick though. I’m sorry he’s being an asshat”

“You and Santi got your own thing going on and I get that-”

“But it doesn't make it right he did that” Frankie rolls his eyes. “He’s always excluded you from everything”

“I know he loves me though, even if he leaves me in the dust. Seriously I’m used to it, it's fine” you chuckle showing Frankie that you weren’t mad. It was just the way Santiago was with you. He did love you and was protective over you, but he needed his space at times. Your relationship with him, was more like your older brother than he is your cousin.

“...Thanks for sitting with me”

“Well the least you can do is give me your cookie” he took the cookie off your plate and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Hey! I was going to eat that you jerk!”

…

“I can’t take you home,” Santi tells you as the two of you stood outside of school, students weave their way around you as they headed off-campus.

“You're kidding…” you looked at him annoyed. You knew Santi needed space, you understood that, but this has gone too far.

“Look I know I promised I’d take you to and from school this whole year, but I got a date with Jennifer Ortega-” He motions to the girl standing a few feet away, she waves a Santiago, and he waves back.

“Santi, it's the first day of school, how the hell do you already have a date?”

“Worked her with my game... charm and charisma…” he smirks

“Gag me... so you're going to ditch me, and take her out”

“Well, you put it like that-”

“I seriously hate you”

“Thank you! I love you! I'll make it up to you, I promise” he grabs Jennifer's hand, rushing towards his jeep. You rolled your eyes. He could have just dropped you off at home, then went out with Jeniffer.

You headed off-campus and walked on the sidewalk, taking the path that was in the direction of your house.

You walked for a good 10 minutes. You were hating Santiago right now. Your blood was boiling. You were plotting your revenge on him when a shiny red pickup truck pulled over.

“Smiles!”

“Frankie!” You signed in relief, walking over to the window.

“Get in!”

You opened the truck door, sliding onto the truth bench. You were dripping wet.

“You’ve been a lifesaver all day, I swear” you whimper.

“Where the hell is Santi? Wasn’t he supposed to take you home?”

“Asshole fucking ditched me! He had a date! How the hell gets a date on the first day of school?!” you snapped.

Frankie veres back onto the street heading down the road.

“If he does that again, or whenever you need a ride, I’ll take you home”

“Thanks” you slump in the

“I’ll talk to him”

“Frankie, you’ve been doing that for years,-”

“Just let me deal with him okay”

“Okay, if that makes you feel better, then go right ahead”

Frankie pulls in your neighborhood. He drove several roads and made a few turns, then pulled into the driveway of your house.

“I hope your first day wasn’t too bad,” he says, parking the car.

“It wasn’t and I have you to thank for that...You helped me out a lot today. I'm glad I know I can always count on you.” you give him a small smile. “I’ll see you later Frankie”

“Bye Smiles”

With that you hop out of his truck, shutting the door. He backs out of the driveway, honking before leaving.

“Who was that?” Your mom asked. You turned around, finding her standing in the doorway.

“Frankie Morales...Santiago had something to do, he gave me a ride home”

“My gosh, he’s so cute don’t you think?”

“Mom” you groaned.

“I always liked him. He’s such a sweet boy and always sweet with you...” She smiled. “And I know you’ve always had a little crush on him”

“No! I’ve never had a crush like Frankie Morales!”

“Why are you being so defensive about it?” She cocked her eyebrows at you. “Honey there’s no shame-”

“Mom, just let it go! I don’t like him”

“You may think you don’t like him, but deep down you know you do sweetheart.” She leaves you standing outside alone, heading back into the house.

You watch Frankie's car drive down the road until he disappears around the corner.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your mother was right. You did have a crush on Frankie. You started developing a crush on him in middle school. It was a little harmless crush and it didn’t mean anything… or so you thought.

MT // @wifeofdindjarin @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso@greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301 @alberta-sunrise@spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina

#Triple Frontier #frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie #Pedro Pascal #pedro

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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years ago

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It Happened on Sakaar Pt. 1

Mando x F!Reader; Loki x F!Reader

Rating: M; 18+ Only

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and exotic dancers, grieving, angst, slow burn

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: The bounty hunter’s most recent puck sends him across the Galaxy to an unfamiliar and artificial planet named Sakaar- literally the galaxy’s trash can. Sakaar is a bizarre planet, but so is his most recent bounty. Din is chasing a man he only knows as The God of Mischief. The reader lives on Sakaar as a scrapper, a similar trade to that of a bounty hunter and has a tangled history with the man Mando is looking for. Will the unlikely duo team up to capture the mischievous Asgardian or will the reader fall victim to Loki’s promises?

A/N: I had planned on writing this in a few days but as per usual I put off coursework to write this fic! So here it is a couple of days early. I am also working on the next chapter of Deadbeat as well as Rest so look out for both of those within the next couple of days! I also am working on an adorable Obi-Wan x Reader request I received a few days ago that will be coming soon as well!

This is unedited and if I missed anything that I should include as a warning please let me know! Thank you y’all!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

He promised.

And you were foolish enough to believe him.

You were foolish to think you were different.

You were foolish to think you really got to know the real him.

You were foolish to think that everything he told you was real.

You were foolish to think that when he told you he loved you he meant it.

You were foolish to think he’d come back.

You, a warrior, a fighter, defender of the throne of Asgard, lied helpless on the ground, broken in pieces as you’re told by Odin that Loki was gone.

And he was dead.

You mourned him.

The ache never going away, day after day, that stupid statue just another thing to remind you that he was gone.

He wasn’t coming back.

Until he did.

And you realized how much of a fool you were.

And you realized everything you thought you knew was a lie.

So you left.

You left with the promise you made to yourself that you would never return to Asgard.

In your rage, you were blinded when you demanded Skurge open the bifrost and send you to the furthest planet from your homeland.

The thought crosses your mind that if it had been Heimdall, he wouldn’t have let you go, talked you into reason and asked you to stay.

If it had been Heimdall, Thor would’ve caught up to you in time instead of just missing you when you left.

You didn’t know where you were going and you didn’t care. Your only thought was to put as much distance from yourself and Asgard as possible. You landed in a gross pile of debris when you first arrived, and from there worked your way up to one of the favorites of the Grandmaster- you were dubbed Scrapper 451 and second in most captures to Scrapper 142. Time works odd in space, you’d been there for three years- completely developed a new life under your new alias.

You’d bring in life form after life form to the Grandmaster, always pleasing him by bringing him potential fighters.

You worked alone, you preferred it. The only friend you had was Scrapper 142 and that was hardly a friendship- more just a rivalry you both had your fun with. There was a mutual respect, and a feeling about her you couldn’t explain, but that was it.

When you met Mando, you almost killed him. You had heard a tip from a local shop owner a ship had landed rather roughly, and you made haste to be the first one to investigate, determined to beat 142 if there was a capture worth making.

Carefully navigating your way through the wasteland, you had finally found the ship in question. It was a model you had never seen before. You stay crouched behind a pile of trash, your stun gun aimed at the ship waiting for it to open.

You stopped and lowered your weapon when you saw the armored passenger had a very small creature by his side. A baby.

You hadn’t seen a baby on this planet since you’d landed. Sure, people have children, but you had never seen anyone bring their child to Sakaar. All the children whom you’ve met, had been born there- no one with a child willingly travels to this part of the Galaxy.

A metal man and a green baby. You scoffed. What an interesting duo.

You took in the appearance of the armored man. Sakaar had a very basic premise that determined your survival. Are you a fighter or are you food? This one was very clearly a fighter. Not necessarily one that you think could be a gladiator- not the right type. But you could tell by the way he walked out of the ship, he was a force to be reckoned with. The baby was really throwing you off of your game. You could have this man halfway back to the Grandmaster by now if he wasn’t traveling with a kid. Sakaar has not yet made you completely heartless, as much as you tried to be. You decide to compromise your position, in a hope of being able to just talk. Learn why he’s here.

No one comes to Sakaar. It’s never on purpose. Lost souls are dumped here. Yet, this man seemed like he was the only creature to intentionally travel to Sakaar like he was just passing through. If you couldn’t bring him in, maybe you could at least salvage parts from the ship.

“What’s your business here?” You ask, from behind the pile where you hid. You could see him but he could not see you. You watch as his first move is to close the floating pram, protecting his child first as he desperately looked around for the source of the voice.

“I’m passing through,” he replies, looking around at his surroundings.

“Nobody just passes through,” you reply. “No one comes here on their own accord. No one leaves once they arrive. What is your business?”

“I’m looking for someone,” he says nondescriptly, further irritating you. You stand up, slowly, your gun still pointed at the man as you walk closer.

“Who?”

“Bounty”

“You’re a bounty hunter?”

“No, I came here for vacation.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Who are you here for?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“What kind of bounty hunter are you?”

“One of the best.”

“Oh really?”

“Don’t test me, Princess.”

“If I’m a princess what are you?”

“Knight in shining armor?”

“Are you really hitting on me right now?”

“Only if you’d want me to be.”

“Gods.”

You can’t see his face from under his helmet but you could feel the smirk he was making. He clearly didn’t view you as a threat and it really annoyed you. Maybe you came off too friendly? No, you’re still pointing a gun to his head.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Scrapper 451,” you said blankly. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Mando.”

“Mando?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of a name is that?”

“What kind of a name is Scrapper 451?”

“It’s a title.”

“Not going to tell me your real name?”

“Are you gonna tell me yours?”

“How-?”

“I’m not stupid.”

“What’s a scrapper do anyways?”

“Bring mouthy tin men in in exchange for a generous amount.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?”

“You could say that?”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“That was my plan.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“The baby.”

“Slave catcher with a heart of gold?”

“I’ll get that on my tombstone.”

“Sooner rather than later I hope.”

“Ouch. Mando, I thought we were friends.”

“You know I didn’t mean it, Princess.”

“Who are you here for?”

“Someone who calls themselves the God of Mischief.”

You freeze, and you lower your weapon. You’re stunned. You hadn’t heard that title in years, and although you never forgot about it, you were great at pushing it back so far away where you couldn’t access it. The man is able to read your body language and can tell you know the man he’s looking for.

“He’s not here,” you finally manage to say, your knuckles turning white at how tightly you grip your blaster.

“He is here,” he says slowly, pulling out a bounty puck. Clear as day, Loki’s face shows up on the holographic screen. Your stomach churns.

“He’s not here,” you insist. “If he was, I wouldn’t be here. Trust me.”

“So, you know him?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you take a few steps backwards to walk away. “I wouldn’t stay on this planet long if I were you. Sakaar has a way of just pulling you in.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Get lodging,” you advise with a smile, “the next person who finds you out here won’t be as nice as me.”

With that you left, leaving the Mandolorian dumb struck. What was this planet?

Mando knew well enough to take your advice. With the Crest secured, he and the Child made a journey into the city.

Your words lingered in his mind. He knew you had information about the bounty you were withholding. He needed to run into you again. He reasoned with himself it was for the sake of catching the bounty, but part of him also wanted to see you again. He just wouldn’t admit it.

He found a place where he could get a room. An elaborate casino, with ornate decorations and loud music playing constantly. A large bar and lounge also attached. He received his room key and ignored the festivities that occurred in the bustling establishment- his first order of business to make sure the Child was settled and would be safe in the room. He regrets his decision to not ask Peli to watch him, but he knew he’d be distracted being so far away.

He figured he was far enough across the galaxy; he wouldn’t need to worry about those after his own bounty or the child’s. But he realizes that he forgot about needing a sitter. If he absolutely needed to, he could bring the child with him, but that was not ideal. Especially, since gauging your reaction at the mention of his new bounty, this didn’t seem like it would be any easy task. He sat down on the bed in the middle of the room, and pulled out the puck- reading over what little information he had.

He needed to find you again and desperately needed any information you’d be willing to share.

You were worried. There was no way Loki was here. You knew he wouldn’t have come for you, even if you thought about it when you first arrived. You thought if anyone would come after you, it would’ve been Thor, convincing you to return to Asgard and cleaning up another one of his brother’s messes. It hurt when no one from home reached out once in the last three years. However, you decided you were better off because if Thor had convinced you to return home, you’d have to face Loki again, and you were adamant on keeping your word you would not see him again.

***

His funeral was devastating. Although many on Asgard did not care much for Loki or his antics, the throne had lost a prince. It was a dark day. Weather on Asgard usually always seemed to be perfect, but on the day of Loki’s services, the God of Thunder was so distraught, he was unintentionally causing a gray and gloomy sky. Thor and you were affected the most.

You stood next to Thor as Odin spoke, but your gaze stayed fixated on the ground. It felt so unfair and you felt an indescribable amount of pain and loss. Your face was stained with tears, as was Thor’s, and you felt like you had just cried until you were physically unable to do so. He was gone and you couldn’t get him back.

Odin watched you solemnly throughout the services. He had told you that he knew how much his son loved you and how despite his absence, you are still considered family. He insisted you had an open invitation to be at the castle whenever you wanted. You could only nod and offer a very, very meek thank you.

You took advantage of that offer, and honestly, you knew you were overstaying your welcome under the palace walls. You found yourself coming, and spending the days in his room, trying to just feel him in anyway you could. You’d run your hands across the broken spines of his books, look at the kingdom from the view of his window, laying on the bed over the elaborate bedding to just try to feel him. You didn’t even know what you were hoping to feel, but you somehow thought this would help you be closer to him.

At events on Asgard, you continued to wear green, almost like your own twist instead of just the traditional black of mourning. It felt right to wear green in his memory, but it was nothing more than just another attempt to pretend like he was there.

You could imagine how he would react to seeing you wearing his signature color. When he was there, he looked at you like you were the only living soul in the room that mattered. He’d shower you were touches of affection and whisper nothing but praises to you, making you think he had actually loved you. This was back before you knew how foolish you had been, blinded by your own puppy love and your affections towards him.

***

You now sat in the lavish home of the Grandmaster. He always had hundreds of people in his home, a constant party, a group made up of Sakaar’s elite being entertained by drinking, drugs, or entertainment of sorts from his um… staff. Drink in hand, you sat cross legged on an elaborate circular couch lost in thought while a dancer performed on a table in front of the group you sat amongst. You didn’t even look up- you hated this part of earning the Grandmaster’s favor. You hated these parties with your whole being. They were hedonistic and you would avoid them if you had the choice. However, you knew the Grandmaster would take offense if you were not in attendance.

Music was loud, and there were many flashing lights. You couldn’t rely on any of your senses to navigate in a place like this, but that was intentional. The Grandmaster set this up on purpose. His parties were meant to be a completely immersive experience. It was probably great for those who wanted to be there, but for you, you wanted to escape and slip out as early as you could.

You weren’t interested in the company and you weren’t interested in the weird substances you didn’t recognize being passed around. You didn’t want to relax, and honestly, these attempts to relax always seemed to make you feel worse. Being sober at these events was invitation for horrible eye strain and a hefty headache.

“451! 451!” you heard a familiar voice call over the loud music in a sing song voice. It was the Grandmaster. He would be the only person at this party who would actually be looking for you.

“Grandmaster,” you smile, getting up and walking over to him. You kiss both his cheeks quickly as a greeting. “You look radiant,” you smile, the compliment going right to his head as they usually did.

“451! Look at you, let me see the ensemble,” he would say, talking a step back, and you would twirl once. It was a long golden dress that draped your body, with a plunging neckline. It was paired with golden arm bands and an elaborate gold necklace. You also had gold flakes throughout your hair. “Stunning,” he praised, “I wish 142 would be more involved like you 451- she’s the best, but ugh, she doesn’t know when to relax. Anyways, I called you over to meet a new friend of mine.”

“Are you replacing me, Grandmaster?” You say with a tone of mocked offense and it makes him laugh.

“451, there is no replacing you- you are the three B’s,” he chuckled, lightly guiding you over to another area of the party. “beauty, brawn and brains, a very rare combination indeed.”

“You flatter me, Grandmaster,” you laugh. If you went along with him to keep him happy, the Grandmaster was actually a pleasant creature to interact with. You had the ability to match his banter and he liked that about you.

“Anyways, anyways 451,” he says, as he remembers his train of thought, “I want to introduce you to someone. He’s devilishly handsome and talks like some stuffy aristocrat, he arrived here a couple of weeks ago and I was finally able to convince him to join us.”

“Did he say where he was from?” you ask curiously.

“Get this,” he chuckles, “Ass-guard. What a hoot, am I right? Anyways, there he is. We got to get whatever stick is out of his butt. I’m hoping you’ll help me to uh, loosen him up. Loki! I want you to meet one of my best, 451.”

Based on the look of surprise, you knew he didn’t expect you to be here. He looked like a deer in the headlights and it angered you that he was here. You felt your teeth clench, and you wanted to just get out of here as fast as possible.

“451 is one of the best scrappers I have,” the Grandmaster talks, “Of course, nothing compares to my Champion but she is ruthless. She’s second in the most gladiators she has been able to bring me.”

“Impressive,” Loki smiles, and you feel the urge to just scream. “I’m Loki, prince of Asgard.”

What an asshole.

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty,” you say between your teeth. You could kill him.

“I’m gonna mingle,” the Grandmaster announces, “I’m leaving you in 451’s hands.”

“Please let me explain,” he immediately tries to say as soon as the Grandmaster is out of earshot. You scoff.

“I’d tell you to drop dead if you hadn’t already,” you spit, “Don’t talk to me. I want nothing to do with you. Get off this planet.”

“Please, just allow me,” he begins.

“Fuck off, Loki,” you snap, and make a fast exit. You leave him standing there bewildered and you watch how stunned he looks as the elevator door closes behind you.

You felt small again. Like all the progress you had made gone in a single instance, and you knew tomorrow you’d face the Grandmaster but for now you didn’t care. You craved a warm bed and sleep more than anything else in the world.

You had planned on staying here so you didn’t know how you were going to make it back to your little apartment. You assumed just walk. You weren’t armed and that was always a terrible idea on Sakaar. You didn’t have anything except a dagger that was fixed to your thigh under the dress you wore. You wished you had your blaster.

“You clean up nice, Princess,” a voice modulated voice you recognize says when the elevator door opens.

“Mando,” you say curtly, stepping out of the elevator.

“You clean up nice,” he states.

“Thank you,” you reply.

“Leaving the party so soon?” He asks. You nod.

“Not really my scene. What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest for a little bit of warmth.

“I received a tip that my target might be here,” he answers, you nod, not elaborating on that you knew for a fact Loki was upstairs. “Did you see him?”

“No, I didn’t.”

PART TWO

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@msclifford

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moonlitwings1 · 4 years ago

Text

Icing on Top

Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her.

Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.

She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.

Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients.

“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child.

She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil.

She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention.

“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.

“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.

He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”

She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”

He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose.

“Maaaax,” he whispers.

She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas.

So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.

“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!”

She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter.

“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”

“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”

“You cool?”

She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”

“You su-”

“YES IM SURE, BILLY.”

He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.”

She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

“I already said cookies.”

“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer.

“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore.

“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole.

Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home.

She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs?

---

Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.

She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.

Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye.

Her door bursts open.

“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.”

Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”

She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t.

Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now.

“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”

Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder.

“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her.

When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal?

She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen.

He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”

She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen.

"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”

She still doesn’t say anything.

“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”

“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!”

“You ruined that shit for your-”

“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it.

Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her.

She’s alone.

----

Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-

The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often.

“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off.

“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?

“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention.

“What?”

“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down.

“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”

He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?”

Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”

“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room.

She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing.

When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”

He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in.

She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt.

“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”

Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face.

“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment.

“So you’ll let me make them again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”

She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”

He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.”

She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping?

“You went to the store?”

He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”

“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.”

“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”

Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”

He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.”

---

Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt.

They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that.

The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.

“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”

“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically. “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”

Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”

She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting. What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles.

“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”

She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion.

“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways.

Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now.

“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”

By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last.

Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide.

Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year.

#billy and max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #harringrove #for that one line where max smells steves cologne on him #theyre TOTALLY just friends max #i wouldnt be surprised if theres some grammatical errors hiding in there #i hope you guys like it!#merry christmas! :)

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walkerwords · 4 years ago

Text

“The Savior Sessions” Part 25 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The communities are on alert as Negan goes missing and Alpha remains quiet. As the reader is dealing with the love of their life disappearing again, Negan finds company on the road.

Word Count: 5413

Warning: Swearing, Graphic Depiction of Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Wicked Game” by James Vincent McMorrow

Note: We begin with the reader’s POV, but we focus on Negan for the rest of it. Reminder, I will be changing things from canon with the rest of these chapters. all official dialog is property of AMC.

--------

One Week Earlier…

“You know, I once knew a woman who could swallow a sword,” you said, examining your own blade in the low light of the cell. “I think in another life, I could do it.”

“Let’s not try tonight, okay?” Negan said, lowering the blade with his fingertips as he sipped from the clear jar you had brought him.

There was too much drama going on at the moment with Alpha, her Walkers, and of course, just trying to stay sane in all of it. Nevertheless, you still found time to indulge in the man that you loved.

Showing up at his cell once it became dark was a normal thing, but the jar of moonshine that you had brought along with you was a change. A very welcomed one at that. You and Negan now sat on the floor of the cell, your backs against the cot, basking in the alcohol as it warmed your veins.

“I still think this shit is highly dangerous,” Negan said, passing you the jar back.

“It’s flammable too,” you said with a small laugh as you leaned against him. “Learned that the hard way.”

“Do tell,” he urged and you sunk further into him, getting comfortable. Negan slung an arm around you, keeping you close.

“Eugene used to keep it outside of Alexandria in an old electrical box thing,” you explained, trying not to slur your words. “One day, he asked me if I would help him move some of it to Hilltop. I think Jesus or Alden wanted some. Anyways, us being morons, went out in a thunderstorm.”

“Which of course was not your favourite plan,” Negan said.

“Right,” you agreed. “So, we were on our way to the place that he was holding it in when Eugene suddenly realized he had forgotten to take the big metal antenna off the top of the box.”

“Oh no,” Negan said, running his hand over the back of your neck as he listened.

“We were about fifteen or so feet from the thing when lightning strikes and the spark lights the booze causing a massive fire. The worst part was that Eugene was also storing some leftover fuel at this place for Daryl’s bike and well…” you trailed off, making explosion movements with your hands. “I smelled like burning metal for three days.” Negan started laughing at that and you looked up at him, trying to see his face. You always loved it when he laughed.

Reaching up, you ran your hand over his face and he turned towards you. “You are just…” you trailed off.

“I’m what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he gazed down at you.

“Unpredictable,” you whispered. “You surprise and amaze me every damn day.”

“That’s good though, right?” he asked, tilting his head.

“It’s very good,” you said. “I’m not cut out to deal with the mundane.”

“Good cause you are anything but ordinary,” he said softly. The moonshine in your system was forgotten as those hazel eyes bore into yours. He was like the sun and you were trapped in his gravity.

“You know that I’m always going to be here for you, right?” you asked.

“I know,” he whispered.

“I just need you to understand that I trust you with my life and more,” you said, sitting up more. “I know that things are going to get messy with the Whisperers, but I think we’re gonna get through it. Especially if we stick together. I think we can win this war.” Negan wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I know, (Y/N),” he said. Tightening his grip, Negan made sure to be looking you in the eyes, something he always did when he was completely earnest. “I don’t know what I would do without you. For a while, I thought that there wasn’t a future for me besides these four walls, but you changed that. I love you so much and I know that you are right. We will win this war, no matter what it takes.”

Smiling down at him, you leaned in to kiss him softly. “I love you, too,” you whispered against his lips as he pressed you harder against him. You laughed as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head before kissing you again.

The moonshine on his lips was sweet but full of fire which was a perfect metaphor for the strong man that you gave your entire body and soul to…

A loud crash came from your right as a pile of lumber fell over near the windmill, taking you out of your memories.

“Ya good?” Daryl said from beside you as he added fletching to his bolts.

“Fine,” you said, running a hand down your face, trying to break out of the trance you had been in.

It had been a day since Negan had gotten out, or was let out, and you didn’t know how to even begin to understand what was going on inside his head, let alone yours.

The last time Negan had left, you had been angry, but now you were just confused. Something didn’t feel right about any of it. Negan wasn’t a saint, everyone knew that, but he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t heartless. Multiple scenarios went through your mind after Gabriel told you what happened.

Lydia had tried to take the blame, but you had barely slept that night and would have woken if she had snuck out at some point. Then there was the fact that you didn’t hear anyone below the Grimes house all night. So, if someone had let him out, it was definitely a planned maneuver.

Negan getting out was something that you wanted to happen, but you wanted it to happen on your terms. You and Negan would have had to make the decision together. The two of you had even talked about running and staying gone for a while so tensions could calm down. You’d go North, see what was in New York or Philly. You always thought that you would come back a year or so later and things would be different.

It was reckless and an idea that you didn’t think you’d ever actually do, but it was still in your mind. Negan had cautioned you against thinking such things. You figured he was afraid that you were going to alienate your family for him. What he didn’t understand was that he was your family and if he could be free, it would be worth it.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Now, you weren’t so sure what all those words he said to you meant. Did he even want to get out with you or was he using you? No, Negan would never use you. He had promised that you were different from all the relationships he had had in the past and the man never lied.

And yet, maybe he had been lying the whole time.

Your brain felt as if it was on one of those rickety carnival rides from your childhood as it invented theory after theory, trying to soothe curiosities. It was disorientating and it was also making it difficult to focus.

Leaning your hands on the table before you, you picked up one of Daryl’s bolts, turning it over in your hands as you wondered what it would feel like to put one of them between Beta’s eyes.

“(Y/N),” Daryl said again and you dropped the projectile.

“Sorry,” you said, rolling out your neck.

“Ya need rest,” he said, trying to offer some comfort, but you didn’t want it or need it. Daryl was also not the cuddly kind of person at the moment.

“I need to find him, I need to find Beta,” you said. Daryl narrowed his eyes, confused.

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” he said, remembering his own fight with Alpha’s second in command.

“I think it is,” you said with defiance. “Beta threatened me; he put his hands on me and I am not going to let him breathe any longer than he has to.”

“He threatened all of us,” Daryl said, but you shook your head.

“This was...different. The way he looked at me that night, it was as if he was challenging me to try something. He reminded me of the Governor. Beta has that twistedness inside of him, I could practically smell it.”

“He threw me around like I was nothing,” Daryl reminded you.

“Well, I’m not you, am I?” you said, facing him. “Beta dies by my hand even if I have to build my own damn rifle and take the shot.”

“Revenge doesn’t look good on you,” he said.

“It’s not revenge, it’s inevitably,” you clarified. Daryl sighed, but he could tell that you set in your ways about this.

“I’m sorry I was right about Negan,” Daryl said after a moment.

“You weren’t,” you disagreed.

“Come on…” he said with a knowing look.

“You don’t know him, Daryl, I do, and I know that he had a reason. He wouldn’t have left me if he didn’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he challenged.

“I do,” you said. “I know him more than I know myself. I don’t know why he’s gone, but I don’t think he just left to get away from Alexandria. With Negan, there’s always a fucking reason. That’s what makes him… him.”

“Don’t hold onto hope, (Y/N),” Daryl said. Looking at him, you shrugged.

“Right now, that’s all I got.”

------

The outside felt different this time for Negan.

The last time he had gotten out of his cell, it was on a whim. Now, he had a direction and a purpose and he was going to damn well fulfil it this time. If he didn’t, you were definitely going to hate him forever.

Leaving you had been the hardest thing he’s done since he’s been locked up. However, when Carol stepped out of the darkness with her offer, he saw something that he had only seen in you.

Possibility.

Killing Alpha ensured the survival of Alexandria, Hilltop, and Oceanside and while all of those people couldn’t care less about Negan, there were a few that did and that made a difference. You, Judith, Lydia, and all the kids would be safe. Carol would have revenge for her son’s murder too. While Negan knew he wasn’t going to be winning any popularity contests with these people, he owed them, whether they cared or not.

However, while he was doing it for them, he was also doing it for himself. He needed to know if he was worthy of being the hero, rather than just the sucker.

It wasn’t just you that Negan was thinking about though, he was also thinking about Lucille. His late wife was the only other person who knew him as well as you did. Lucille saw the man that he could have become but never did due to his own faults. Negan had been a horrible husband to her, but he was willing to do better this time.

In no way were you a do-over, but he did see the relationship that he had with you as a chance to finally be the man Lucille knew he could be. He just hoped that you would not end up hating him as Lucille did. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle losing you, not after everything he had done and lost to find you.

Still, there was still that fear in his gut that he would not succeed on this mission. Alpha could take one look at him and take his head as she had with the others months before. That thought scared him, but he didn’t fear death, he feared leaving you behind without an explanation. Negan was ready if it came down to it and as much as he knew it would pain you, he needed to take the risks.

“‘To die will be an awfully big adventure’,” Negan quoted as he turned his face to the sun. You had found an old battered copy of Peter Pan not that long ago. You had spent nights in his cell reading him passages from the classic and now Barrie’s words were ringing true. With a sigh, Negan continued on through the woods, trying to formulate his plan.

Just as he turned down a small hill, however, a voice stopped him.

“Gotcha!” a male voice said and Negan froze, swearing under his breath. Raising his hands, he was ready to take the person down and run if he had to. “Don't try anything,” the man said before he began to laugh. Confused, Negan turned and who he saw made him drop his hands.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Negan muttered, “Brandon?”

The young guard from Alexandria, who was carrying a backpack, smiled at Negan. “The look on your face! Dude, seriously, I'm just messin' with you!” he said.

“What are you doin’?” Negan asked, but Brandon was still talking.

“You're fast. Took me forever to catch up,” Brandon said. “So, prison break part two, huh?” Negan rolled his eyes and turned away from the kid, continuing on his way, but of course, Brandon followed.

---------

“My dad, he used to tell me how, like, you and the Saviors would, like, whistle back and forth before,” Brandon said as he kept pace with Negan who was trying very hard not to slap him silly.

“That was a long time ago,” Negan said with a huff.

“I mean, not that long ago though, right?” Brandon tried as Negan didn’t bother with an answer.

“You, uh you say you had some granola or some shit?” Negan asked. Brandon quickly began rustling through his bag, eager to please.

“Sorry about the raisins and the busted knife. Was kinda in a rush when I packed it all,” Brandon said as he handed Negan some food and the weapon he had brought from Alexandria.

“It’s fine,” Negan said, waving him off.

“So, you're really not gonna tell me how you got outta that cell?” Brandon asked, but Negan stayed quiet, not giving the kid an inch. You really didn’t like Brandon and Negan was starting to see why. Sure, he was annoying, but Negan already knew that. Now he was starting to see him as who he really was, a leech.

“Alright,” Brandon continued, “well, at least tell me what we're lookin' for.”

“Someplace safe,” Negan said. Carol had given him freedom, but the plan was completely up to him. Considering how his day went after the first time he got out, he was getting a bit nervous.

“I get it. A new Sanctuary,” said Brandon. “Damn, how badass was that place? And then, Rick Grimes comes along, talk about hypocrisy, kills our parents, drags us to Alexandria, lectures us about community.”

“Grimes was a good man,” Negan commented, not allowing the kid to tarnish Rick’s name. No matter what they thought of each other, Rick deserved respect.

“I guess,’ Brandon shrugged. “Man, I heard you made him cut his own kid's hand off, then you killed them,” he said and Negan froze. “You know, Carl Grimes, I heard you shot him.”

Negan whirled on the kid, shoving him against a nearby tree. “I never did that,” Negan sneered. “I don’t give a shit about what kind of fucked up rumors you’ve heard. Carl was... I would never kill a kid.”

Brandon was staring up at Negan and the latter was glad to see a bit of fear in the kid’s eyes. People could hate on him all they wanted, but the Grimes family were good people, are good people, and he respected them too much to listen to any slander.

Especially about Carl.

“Yeah, no, definitely. I'm with you, obviously. We're both Negan,” Brandon said and Negan felt sick. They walked on once Negan let him go, but Brandon was still pushing. “Did you talk to (Y/N) before you left?”

“Excuse me?” Negan asked, looking over his shoulder at the kid.

“I just mean, do they know why you left?”

“I’m not seeing how that’s any of your business, kid,” Negan snapped. Brandon fell quiet then but soon spoke up when the two men came across an odd sight.

“Who would do this?” Brandon asked as he looked down at the makeshift fence. Wrapped in barbed wire, wooden posts acted as a barrier and Negan immediately knew what it meant.

“Whisperers,” Negan said.

“Damn. Should we cross? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Brandon offered.

“No,” Negan said but made a point to remember the location. “We’re not equipped to deal with them.”

“They’re just people.”

“People who can blend in with the Dead,” Negan pointed out. “I’m not sure we can consider them human at his point.”

“Right, like that Lydia chick,” Brandon snipped and before Negan could go off on him, Walkers converged on them. Brandon slid to the side as the Dead fell upon Negan. The weight of the Walkers nearly brought him down, but Negan was able to eventually overpower them.

Once the Dead were finally down, Negan turned to Brandon and he was pissed. “What the hell!” he said.

“Sorry, sorry, I was just getting your gift ready,” Brandon said as he showed Negan what was in his hand. Negan straightened up as he saw the baseball bat. A bat that was freshly wrapped in the wire of Alpha’s border. “I also got this,” Brandon said as he pulled out a leather jacket. “Found it in the back of an old storage garage. My dad said he never saw you without it.”

Suddenly, Negan got an idea. Before Rick locked him up, he was good at a lot, but the best thing was charming his way into places. However, that charm had disappeared after the many years locked away. Now, looking at the jacket and the new bat, Negan finally realized what he would need to do to get to Alpha.

He would have to become the Negan everyone once feared. Although, not just yet.

“Listen,” Negan said, “uh why don't you just put that in your backpack? I don't wanna be recognized.”

“You like it, though, right?” Brandon asked, sounding like a damn groupie.

“More than you know.”

———-

Negan and Brandon kept moving.

“Did anyone see you leave?” Negan asked, not wanting Aaron or Daryl to be tracking them. That was the last thing Negan needed.

“Nah,” Brandon said, “but the bitch with the baby did see me come out of my house. Not sure she cares.”

“Her name is Rosita,” Negan corrected, surprising himself. Since the blizzard, he had been thinking about Miss Espinosa. Rosita had as much reason to hate Negan as Maggie did, but Negan began to think that perhaps the new mother was just as tired of being outwardly hostile as he was.

“Right,” said Brandon. “Sorry man, I thought you didn’t like her.”

“No, she doesn’t like me, there’s a difference,” Negan said.

“Is there?”

“I only had problems with a few of those people. Rosita was not one of them.”

“I heard a story that she shot at you,” Brandon said and Negan snorted at the memory.

“That she did,” Negan said. “Though, I did murder someone in front of her so I guess I deserved it.”

“And now she’s with a priest. Weird.”

“Gabe is alright,” Negan said. In fact, besides you and Lydia, Gabriel was the closest thing he had to a friend. He had thought he was making headway with Aaron, but he could never get a proper read on that man.

In fact, there was one person whom he actually did want to properly speak to and that was Ezekiel. There was something about the king that made him incredibly curious. However, after the death of his son, Negan didn’t even know what he would say to him.

You had always said that Ezekiel was a good man and a fair one. Negan began to wonder what the tiger-wrangler would have done with him if it had been up to him and not Rick. Those thoughts were interrupted when he and Brandon heard screaming.

“Sounds like a girl,” Brandon said.

“And a kid,” Negan said as he heard the second yell. Negan took off towards the sound, anxious to find the source. It didn’t take long for him to find it. An abandoned bus stood broken down in an old lot. Inside, he could hear screams of panic and the unmistakable groans of Walkers.

Negan didn’t hesitate to run towards the bus, hauling himself up the steps of the old vehicle. In the back, a woman cowered before the Walker as a young boy hid with her. Negan headed straight down the aisle, grabbing the creature by its shoulders. The rotting jaw snapped at its new attacker, but Negan was stronger. Throwing it towards the open back door, Negan slammed it to the floor and used the accordion door to smash its brains to bits.

The shouts of alarm were replaced by heavy breathing and then small sobs as the woman clutched at her child. “Thank you,” she cried, “thank you.” Negan, who was breathing heavily nodded to her, offering her a squeeze on the arm that she reached towards him. Amongst the gratitude, Brandon was celebrating Negan’s gory display.

Once Negan was able to get the mother and her son calm and situated, he pulled Brandon aside.

“So, what’s the plan here, boss?” Brandon asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Rob them? Take their shit and go, right?” Brandon offered.

“It’s a mother and child,” Negan reminded him “Fuck kid, you really think that I’m going to hurt them?”

“I mean… that’s what you do,” Brandon said.

“What I do is none of your goddamn business,” Negan said, stepping into his face again. “You know what, this isn’t exactly workin’ out, is it? I think you need to get lost, find your own damn celebrity so you can lick their fucking boots. I’m done.”

“I can’t just go home, they’ll know I helped you!” Brandon said, stopping Negan before he could leave him behind.

“Then don’t go home,” Negan said. “You’re free, kid, go wherever the fuck you want.”

“I thought I was helping you,” he said.

“No, you’re not. I got my own shit to do and I can’t play babysitter. Do us both a favor and get the hell out of here,” Negan said before turning his back on the teen. Brandon hesitated for a few moments before hiking his bag up on his shoulders and walking away. Negan didn’t relax until his form disappeared into the surrounding brush.

After Brandon had gone, Negan went to speak with the mother, helping her get comfortable as her son was in view just outside the bus. “Ya alright?” he asked.

“Better now,” she said.

“How long have you been out here? You got people?”

“It was just Milo and me. We'd been walking for days, weeks, until the hissers ran through our camp, scattered everyone to the winds. After that, we went back to what it was before, what it always is in the end, Milo and me, moving from place to place, surviving,” she said.

“I’ve been there,” Negan said. “The wandering is the worst part.”

“How did you stop? The wandering,” she clarified.

“That is a long story, but I did end up in a place that’s not too far from here. You and your boy seem like good people and if I know them, which I do, then they will help you,” Negan said.

“Why would they?” she asked.

“Because,” Negan said, “they’re the kind of people that save people.”

--------

Negan found Milo not that long after.

“Hey,” he said, joining the kid. Milo looked at him with worry, but Negan offered his hands in a placating gesture. “Don't worry, kid. I don't bite. Your mom, she's inside, packin', so we got a little bit of time to kill,” Negan said.

“Where'd Brandon go?” Milo asked, looking around.

“Brandon, he went looking for supplies,” Negan said and then sighed, not liking the taste of lies on his tongue. “You know what? I'm gonna be real with you. Uh, I told Brandon to get lost. You see, uh, it turns out, not the best co-pilot, if you catch my drift.” Milo looked at him in confusion. “You don't catch my drift at all, do ya?”

“Not really,” Milo admitted.

“You've never been on a plane, huh?” Negan asked and Milo shook his head again. “Aw, man, it's alright. It's not your fault that God turned this world into an asspit before you were born. Alright. Picture this, alright? Sitting on a plane, really nice, comfy seats, but it feels like you've been sitting on the runway for Goddamn ever. Suddenly, there's this kinda rumbling, a groan, alright? The plane finally starts to creep along, right, and now we're moving faster and faster. And you look out that window, and everything's turning into a blur. And then, Whew. Wheels come up off the ground. You are flying,” he said with a smile.

“Like birds?” Milo asked.

“Hell yeah like birds,” Negan said. “Up and up and up, higher and higher, until it feels like you are floating on top of the frickin' world. And you're looking out that little window, and you can see houses. They look like little toy houses and little toy cars.”

“Sounds scary,” Milo said.

“No scarier than the hissers,” Negan said, using the nickname Milo’s mom had used. “I hope you’ll be able to experience it someday.”

“Me too,” Milo said. Negan smiled down at the kid, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Do you have kids?”

“I don’t,” Negan said. “Though I do know a few and they are just as badass as you.”

“Are you married?” Milo asked, still curious.

“Not anymore,” Negan said, looking out over the dying world. “Though, I do have someone. Their name is (Y/N).”

“Where are they?”

“Someplace safe,” Negan said.

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“I gotta do something,” Negan explained. “Fix some things.”

“I get that,” Milo said, reaching over to pat Negan on the back, causing the latter to laugh.

“What is with you kids in this new world, you’re all so damn wise,” Negan said as he thought about Judith particularly. “Look, I told your mom about a place I know. They’ll help you and get you some food. They’re good people.”

“Are they your people?”

“A few are,” Negan said. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

“Thank you for saving me and my mom,” Milo said and Negan smiled at him.

“You are welcome, but if I don’t go and find some firewood, all three of us are gonna freeze tonight. Take care of your mom until I get back?”

“I will,” Milo said.

“Good man,” Negan teased as he got up and headed into the woods to hopefully find some warmth for the night.

------

Negan walked, grabbing wood as he found it, but it was taking too long and he needed to get back to Milo and his mother.

As Negan began the trek back to the bus, a Walker shuffled out of the trees. Pulling the old knife that Brandon had given him, he let the Walker approach him. “You bastards just get more ugly by the day,” Negan grunted as it grabbed for him. Negan kicked out its legs and shoved his blade in the rotting skull. Kneeling down, Negan searched the Dead woman’s coat. He was hoping to find a lighter or matches, but what he found instead made him laugh.

Inside her coat pocket was a broken hatchet. It looked as if she had hit something too hard with it and broke the handle. However, the blade was still intact and Negan could see dried blood in the etching. Holding the hatchet, he began to think about another hatchet-wielding maniac he once tousled with.

“Look at me, Rick,” Negan said to the empty woods, “I’m trying to be the fuckin’ hero. If Carl could see me now…” Negan left the broken weapon behind as he hauled his firewood back into his arms and headed back to the kid and his mom.

Negan walked with steady steps, ready to finally get some rest. However, as he approached the lot, something felt wrong. It was too quiet and as Negan turned the corner, the wood in his arms crashed to the ground.

Laying in pools of their own blood, Milo and his mother were dead, their vacant eyes gazing up at the sky. Standing above them, holding a tire iron, was Brandon. The teen was beaming with pride as he looked at the man before him. Negan, however, was only seeing red as he saw the child’s body crumpled on the floor.

“That's it, right?” Brandon asked. “You almost had me. Back on the bus, when you kicked me out. Then I remembered, This is Negan. He's always messing with people, keeping 'em in line.” Negan began to stalk towards Brandon, his body moving on its own accord.

“So I realized there's a test,” Brandon continued. “‘It's gonna get a lot more dangerous from here on out.’ That's what you said to me. You wanted to make sure that I had the balls to do what had to be done. What do you think? I passed, right?” Brandon said with glee as he stared down at his victims. Negan bent over and picked up a large rock, weighing it in his hand as he approached the lunatic. “I am Neg‒” Brandon tried to finish as Negan swung and hit him over the head with the rock.

Brandon went down hard, blood oozing from his head, but Negan had to finish the job. With a few more hits, the brain was damaged and Brandon was dead with no possibility of returning. The rage that he was feeling was too overwhelming. The mother was bad enough, but a child? Milo was as pure as they came. Brandon hadn’t killed them, he had stolen them and Negan wasn’t going to allow that.

Blood was splattered on Negan’s clothes and face, but he kept moving. He grabbed Brandon’s bag, pulling out the black leather jacket. Taking it in his hands he admired it for just a moment before sliding it across his broad shoulders.

The feel of the leather on his back was both familiar and terrifying. However, he knew it was needed and so, he zipped it up the way he used to and from the bag, pulled his new weapon.

Lucille 2.0.

The menacing weapon felt familiar. She would never be what his original was, but she would do if he was going to pull off the performance of a lifetime. “Takin’ one for a team that would rather see me in a grave. Oh, how things have fuckin’ changed,” Negan said as he swung the bat up to his shoulder as he looked down at his newest victim.

Negan raised his head, leaned into one of his legs and then headed towards his destination. A destination fenced with barbed wire.

----------

“Alright, you sorry, rotten sacks of shit! What's a fella gotta do to get eaten around here?” Negan announced as he wandered through the darkness. Waiting until nightfall, Negan had prepared himself for what he was about to do.

“What's the matter? Huh?” he continued. “Y'all scared of the Big Bad Wolf? Little pig, little pig! Let me in!” he yelled as he moved over the border and into Alpha’s territory, letting his voice travel. “And there you are!” Negan said as he finally noticed the Walkers and in the moonlight, blades appeared in some of their hands. “Oh, I am gonna huff. I am gonna puff. I am gonna blow your house all the way down!”

Out of the darkness came a large shape and Negan immediately knew who it was. You had described him so much that Negan felt as if he practically knew the asshole.

Beta.

“Alright, you big-ass freak,” Negan said as he stared down Alpha’s right hand in the dark. With a deep breath and your face at the forefront of his mind, Negan gripped his new Lucille and grinned. “Here we go.”

TAGS:

@lucillethings @cameronsails @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

#Negan imagine #negan x reader #negan x gn reader #twd #the walking dead imagnes #the walking dead #negan #savior sessions #walker words #negan x you #the walking dead fanfiction.

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swan-of-sunrise · 4 years ago

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Three)

Summary: (Y/N) and Mando track down a potential lead on the location of a Mandalorian.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three The Fights (Previous Chapter)

While she initiated the ship’s landing sequence, (Y/N) took a moment to glance out the cockpit’s viewport and let out a low whistle. “Yep, just as seedy as I imagined it would be.” She looked over at the Mandalorian standing beside her with a brow raised in curiosity. “Have you been to this planet before?”

“Once, when I first started working with the Guild. It’s rougher than it looks, which is why we’re gonna bring the kid along with us.” The ship landed smoothly and he followed her down the ladder to the armory. “How do you think we should do this?”

(Y/N), who had begun fastening her blaster holster around her waist, glanced up in surprise; since their partnership was only a little over a week old, she hadn’t expected him to give her the opportunity to formulate a plan. Maybe this is some sort of a test, she silently reasoned, so he can see what I can and can’t do. Recovering from her shock, her eyes met the Mandalorian’s visor as she replied, “I go in first and scope the place out for Koresh, then you and the kid follow. That way if things get dicey, I’ll be there as backup and his goons won’t suspect that we’re working together.”

Mando nodded. “Good, that’s what I was thinking.” He tucked a vibro-knife into his boot before straightening and pointing at her blaster. “You any good with that?”

“Of course I am, I’m an ex-smuggler.” (Y/N) playfully retorted, tugging on one of her longer coats and checking to see if it covered her blaster before smiling despite herself. “It’s when I’m disarmed that I start having some problems; as evident in my altercation with the Black Sun, I’m not exactly the best at hand-to-hand combat.”

“Good thing you’ve got an ex-bounty hunter onboard to teach you, alor’ad.”

Rolling her eyes at his quip, (Y/N) reached into the open armory and tucked a vibro-blade into her own boot. She stood and accepted the comm link the Mandalorian held out to her, placing it in her ear and brushing her hair over to cover it up. “Okay, it looks like I’m good to go. Is there anything else I should know before going?”

“Yeah, stay on the main road and stick close to the street lamps.”

He didn’t elaborate on his statement, so she just nodded and made her way down the ship’s lowered ramp. Walking down the long stretch of road, it wasn’t long before she understood why Mando had issued his warning; glowing red eyes began appearing in the shadows on either side of the road, but it seemed as though the dim street lamps were the only things keeping the creatures away from her. Her blood ran cold at the thought and she quickened her pace, reaching the large building at the end of the road in no time.

A large Twi’lek stood in the doorway, his tightly arms crossed over his chest. As (Y/N) approached him, she kept her face impassive and empty of emotion. “I’m here to place some bets.”

The Twi’lek’s eyes scrutinized hers and after several tension-filled moments, he moved to the side and held his arm out towards the doorway. “Enjoy the fights.”

(Y/N) gave him a nod and she walked inside, taking in the exuberant crowd and their deafening cheers as they watched the two Gamorrean fighters at the center of the room. Weaving her way through the rowdy people, she stopped at the bar and ordered herself a glass of spotchka. “Excuse me, bartender, but where can I find Gor Koresh? I’d like to place a bet and I hear that he’s a hell of a gambler…”

The bartender handed her the glass and pointed across the room. “Over there.”

Thanking her, (Y/N) paid for her drink and moved to lean against the wall; the Abyssin was seated in the front row, quietly watching the fight along with four stoic men. They couldn’t be any more obvious, she thought to herself, downing her glass of spotchka before reaching up and activating her comm link. “Come in, Mando.”

“What’ve you got?”

Careful not to be spotted, (Y/N) relayed everything she’d gathered to her partner: a description of Koresh, the number of bodyguards stationed in the arena, and how heavily-armed each of them were. Not long after, she spotted the Mandalorian making his way through the crowd with the child’s pram floating alongside him. She had a clear view of the two of them from her spot by the wall, and she watched as he seated himself beside Koresh; they talked for several minutes until suddenly, Koresh shot down one of the Gamorrean fighters. The crowd scattered, hurrying to the exits as the one-eyed man and his bodyguards all pointed their blasters at Mando’s helmeted head.

(Y/N) ducked behind the nearby bar and pulled out her blaster, peeking around the corner as their voices filled the now-empty arena.

“Thank you for coming to me. Normally, I have to seek out remnants of you Mandalorians, in your hidden hives, to harvest your shiny shells. Beskar’s value continues to rise, and I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me now or I will peel it off your corpse.”

The Mandalorian stayed completely still as he calmly retorted, “Tell me where the Mandalorians are and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.”

Koresh sneered. “I thought you said you weren’t a gambler.”

Raising an impressed brow, (Y/N) watched as Mando subtly flexed his wrist and activated what he’d called ‘whistling birds’ to start glowing. Her grip on her blaster tightened in anticipation as the child closed the lid of his pram and Mando finally spoke. “I’m not.”

In an instant, the whistling birds launched into the air and quickly found their targets; the four dead bodyguards fell to the ground as the Mandalorian kicked the child’s pram out of harm’s way and began fighting off the surviving Gamorrean and the Twi’lek from the entrance. (Y/N) raised her blaster and prepared to help him, but she became distracted by a group of guards hurrying across the arena in the direction of the child.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” (Y/N) muttered, firing off a shot and hitting one man in the neck. The remaining guards immediately aimed their blasters in her direction and began firing; she ducked back behind the bar and waited a moment before jumping to her feet and firing off three quick shots. All three remaining guards dropped to the ground, each having been shot clean through the heart, and the child’s pram remained in its place.

Climbing over the bar, (Y/N) hurried to the pram just in time to see Mando throw his vibro-blade and hit the last man standing directly in his chest. His helmet turned to her and they both looked over to see Koresh hurry through one of the arena’s exits; looking back at Mando, she watched as he pulled his vibro-blade out of the dead man’s chest and followed alongside the pram as he went through the same exit. Both she and the pram emerged onto the street just in time to watch Mando string Koresh up onto the street lamp by his ankles.

“All right, stop, stop! I’ll tell you where he is.” With her blaster still in hand, (Y/N) moved to stand beside Mando as Koresh continued to stammer in fear. “But you must both promise you won’t kill me.”

“I promise you will not die by my hand, or hers.” Mando slowly declared, and (Y/N) was quick to bite back her smirk. She wasn’t stupid; she’d observed just how much her explanation of Koresh’s business dealings had affected him, so it was fairly obvious what he was planning on doing with the one-eyed man. “Now, where is the Mandalorian you know of?”

“Tatooine!”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Mando stiffen. “What?”

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine!”

“I’ve spent much time on Tatooine; I have never seen a Mandalorian there.”

Koresh continued to swing by the whipcord as he angrily replied, “My information is good, I tell you! The city of Mos Pelgo, I swear it by the Gotra!”

(Y/N) and Mando both looked away from Koresh at the same time; she shrugged a shoulder and holstered her blaster, wordlessly telling the Mandalorian that Koresh’s information was worth investigating. Mando nodded and glanced back at Koresh. “Tatooine it is, then.” They both began walking away from the one-eyed man.

“Wait, Mando! Lady! You can’t leave me like this, cut me down!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Mando pulled out his blaster and shot out the street lamp, plunging that section of the road into darkness; he holstered the weapon and gestured for her to follow him as Koresh continued his shouts of protest; they were quickly joined by the growling of the creatures that approached him.

“Wait, what are you doing? Mando, I can pay! Mando…Mando!”

By the time that they reached the Razor Crest, Gor Koresh’s screams had faded into nothing and (Y/N) silently thanked the Maker; there was no denying that the one-eyed man had deserved his fate, but she would’ve preferred not to hear it happen. I’ve heard too many sounds of death in my relatively-short lifetime, she somberly thought as she took the child out of his pram and followed the Mandalorian up into the cockpit. He had already seated himself in the pilot’s seat, so she sat herself down on the seat to his right and held the cooing child in her lap; moments later, the ship rose from the ground and soon, they were traveling through hyperspace.

“Do you think I was wrong to leave Koresh for dead?”

(Y/N) looked up in surprise; his helmet was still facing forward, but she could see that his hands had tightened around the ship’s joysticks. “No. For what he did to countless Mandalorians, he deserved exactly what he got.”

“Then why did you look sickened when I did it?”

Mando’s modulated voice was gruff and accusatory. With a small sigh, (Y/N) ran a hand over the child’s wrinkled green head and hesitantly replied, “Because…when you’ve been through everything I’ve been through, and seen the things I’ve seen…even the dying words of an enemy can have some effect on you.”

The cockpit was silent for several long moments, until he turned the pilot’s seat around to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to relive any painful memories-”

“It’s okay, Mando. Like I said, he got what he deserved.” She flashed him a small smile before gesturing to the ship’s guidance system. “At least we have some sort of idea of where to go now; Tatooine should be nice and sunny this time of year, don’t you think?”

Mando chuckled at her terrible joke. “Very funny, alor’ad. Why don’t you get some rest while I watch the kid?” He reached over and took the child from her lap, and when she made no move to stand, he let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not gonna get much sleep when we land on Tatooine, you know, so you should get it while you can…”

“That’s true.” Relenting, (Y/N) got up from her seat and muffled her reluctant yawn. “Wake me up if you need any help, okay?” He nodded, and she turned to exit the cockpit.

“You did good tonight, alor’ad.”

(Y/N) glanced back at Mando, who had already spun his seat back around to face forward, and the corners of her mouth raised into a smile at his compliment. “You too, Mando.” Giving him a final look, she turned and made her way down the ladder; she stored her weapons in the armory before kicking off her boots and crawling into her makeshift bed, quickly falling asleep. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the gentle rocking of the ship or the soothing presence the Mandalorian exuded, but (Y/N) couldn’t remember having a single nightmare.

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

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and enjoying!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain

Chapter Four

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @zukoyonce @itsnottilly

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda

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electronicdelusionstarlight · 3 years ago

Text

Ok, here's how I'd set up an actual BNHA Elder Scrolls crossover in case I ever get around to write it:

1) While he's, like, 4 years old in his living room watching TV, Izuku's Quirk activates. It will not get an actual official name but we can call it Planeswalker Spark ala MTG. Basically kid can tear a hole through reality and launch himself into a different plane of existence, which is what Izuku accidentally does here.

2) It's a slow process tho, which gives Inko plenty of time to rush in from where she was to tackle her son away from the sudden green glow brightly shining around him, a impulse decision based on her Instinct to protect him at all costs, which only ends up with both of them getting sent to Skyrim.

3) Izuku incidentally also happens to be a Shezzarine. His quirk is a mutation from her mom's side, whose Quirks usually affect space in some way, and is completely unrelated to this. Anyway, he and Inko are on the cart to Helgen now, usual shit, The plot of Modded Skyrim takes places, with Inko taking on the brunt of the adventure and trying to shelter Dragonborn Izuku from his destiny.

4) After many trials and tribulations, 2 DLCs, 4 guilds, 1 Dragon War, several adopted orphans as well as so many quest mods it's unreal, Lucien Flavius and several members of the College of Winterhold manages to reverse engineer Izuku's quirk, and gives him an enchanted ring to better control it. Kid can now safely use it without risking ending up somewhere completely different from his planned location. Izuku is now 14 years old. He also had to do terrible things no matter how much his mother tried to shelter him and take the brunt of the war crimes. This leads to PTSD obviously, but also to a now blue and orange morality system, chief among them his general disregard with killing or not killing someone.

5) Getting back to 10 years prior, Izuku's Quirk causes a ripple in the Tachion Field surrounding earth, which is felt on I-Island. David Shield spends the remaining 10 years monitoring and trying to better understand the phenomena, since it could be revolutionary in the till then hypothetical field of time and space travel. When Izuku activates his quirk back 10 years later, I-Island has by then built a teleportation device, hijacking Izuku's trip and sending him to I-Island.

6) Meanwhile on a familiar junkyard, Hatsume Mei's scrappy device built via salvaged parts, spit and lots of duct tape comes to life on her back, individuating a sudden tear in the now constantly decaying Tachion Field. It's happening in the middle of the ocean tho, so she can't really deal with it now.

7) Anyway, David Shield needs Izuku at hand for his Quirk, but Izuku and his mom came back to Japan trying to live a double life since by then most of their friends and family are in Tamriel. Except, both of them have been declared dead for years, and Hisashi, the bitch, ran away with the insurance money, so they don't have a life to return to. David Shield can't let them get back to Tamriel tho, again, he needs Izuku on planet for his new research, bit also realizes that if he actually wants to leave he can't really stop him, except Izuku, you know, still wants to become a hero, just like his mom is in Skyrim. So they reach a compromise, he will try to get into UA, and will take a new identity as Mikumo Akatani, usual excuses to have Izuku get into 1-A you know?

8) Izuku can't really make his Quirk public tho. So, after forging his and his mother identities as a foreign dignitary from the states and her son, and his Quirk is listed as "Cataclysm" (The last perk in the destruction skill tree for a Fire (and Earth) mage in the Ordinator Mod). He is after all a member of the college of Winterhold, trained under the Great and Powerful Destruction Magician Uncle J'Zargo the Magnificent himself, of course he knows plenty of spells. However, he can't really explain all of them as one Quirk, or better yet, he can, it would just get really complicated, so he just goes "My mom can move things with her mind, my... Father, ugh, can blow fire from his mouth, obviously my Quirk is being able to control flames with my mind, usually from my hands but some times also via vocalisation."

9) Which means Izuku has to really contain what shit he can do. It's a very superman like situation, since he needs to remain in control at all times and also not slip up and pull spells he couldn't explain as his "fire" quirk, least people start asking questions. Some people however notice.

10) Tsuyu and Todoroki start an unofficial conspiracy theorist fan club over it.

Tsuyu was there with him at the USJ, where in his sudden hyperfocused competence over the crisis situation made her realize A) This is not the first time this boy has almost died in his life and B) Back in the water at the USJ, she could swear she saw his hands shining as some strange light washed over him, and she could swear he could swim as fast as her back then, and for such long periods of time she could swear he could breath underwater. That makes it really suspicious.

Todoroki sees another kid with a powerful fire quirk but also the signs of a hard life and who seems to not like his father, and instantly goes "Oh... same hat." So his conspiracy is that Izuku is actually Endeavour Bastard Son he had after a premarital affair during a visit to the states 14 years prior, and he has a corkboard to prove it. He also realizes that he's trying to contain his power just like he is, which makes him believe he too must have done a pledge just like him.

11) Shinso beats Bakugou on the first match of the tournament. Doesn't really matter to the overall crossover I just wanted to point this out.

12) Anyway, this explodes during the Sports Festival. It's Todoroki Vs Midoriya, and 1) everyone is comparing the two due to similar Quirks, which Izuku finds really unfair to both of them, 2) Todoroki is being a stubborn ass with his quirk and 3) Izuku can't really talk now l, can't he? That would make him an hypocrite, and he might be a Mage, an Honorary member of the Explorer Guild, a Dragonborn and also a Bard College Student for some reason, but he's not a hypocrite, so he just up and SNAPS because hey, maybe Todoroki will actually unleash his full potential if someone else does it first too.

13) So, Izuku Midoriya, on national television, starts blasting. Armour Spells, Ice Spells, Lightning Spells, Mind Spells, Water, Wind, Air, Poison, turns himself invisible, summons a Dremora Champion, shouts with the power of the souls of the Dragons his mother slew, Todoroki actually has to start using his fire but is mostly out of sheer survival now ("There is always a bigger fish out there, and one day you deciding not to use your full power just because of a stupid pledge will get someone killed. Trust me, I know. You better start realizing that now Todoroki"), and is still a close match because Izukus spells all start from his hands or mouth after all, and Todoroki has now something to prove more than ever.

14) Without his robes on tho, Izuku Magicka is depleted in the end, ending up in a tie as the two collapse from exhaustion. Rather than an arm wrestling match this time, Izuku is disqualified due to the sudden mutation of his Quirk. He's fine with it and probably expected it, bit this still bums Todoroki out, as well as all of his classmates and friends.

15) After the Festival there are 4 leading theories on Izuku now:

A) All Might, discovering via Tsukuachi that Izuku's identity is fake, as well that he looks a bit like a missing case kid from 10 years ago, AND knowing that AFO is back due to the USJ... Believes Izuku is a mole, and is working, willingly or unwillingly, for AFO after he was implanted with all those Quirks. He is now incredibly suspicious of him, and it kind of shows. Nighteye is on the same page despite not having talked to the man in years, and is subtly trying to have Mirio scout out the kid to see if he's a threat. Mirio is too much of a Golden Retriever to even realize what has been asked of him tho, and just think Nighteye wants him to befriend another kid with a promising Quirk.

B) Todoroki now knows the truth. Izuku is Monoma's long lost twin brother. His Quirk allows him to copy the Quirks of those around him (Iron Skin and Stone Skin would be Tetsu Tetsu and Kirishima Quirks after all, Invisibility is Hakagure, Fire and Ice are either his or Bakugou's, Lightning is Kirishima, and Tsuyu mentioned how he could swim and breath underwater while near her, meaning he was using her Quirk). He has connected the dots.

C) AFO still remembers his brother's lover, the stories she came up with, the long periods of times she was gone, only to return with a haunted look in her eyes... The powers she hid from him, thinking he wouldn't notice, the way she fled right after his brother lay lifeless on the ground, almost disappearing into thin air with his broken body... The family his brother hid so well from him, as if they were in another world all together... They never told him, but he knew, he knew she had some sort of Quirk, one that had been then inherited by this new Mikumo Akatani, so similar to HIM yet so different, back from the other world in revenge for his ancestor.

He has to capture that kid. He's family after all, and his quirk belongs to him, it's his by right as his brother's keeper. And with it, he will be able to extend his reach to worlds beyond his own.

D) the official version, the one David Shield puts out, is that Izuku's Quirk evolved unexpectedly due to the new environment he was in, mentioning it as a precursor of Quirk Singularity.

E) The only one who actually got it is Hatsume. She can tell Izuku is the source of the Tachion Spikes and subsequent decays as he "returns home" in Skyrim when leaving school, so she perfectly understands that he's a powerful warlock from across dimension who had come here with the power of science and unholy magic to infiltrate society posing as a hero. Obviously, she's going to help him do it becoming his evil vizier and grand artificer of course. Worst case scenario, she can now market the shit out of him as a hero using her babies, best one, he succeeds and she gets to rule Australia out of their "Deal." I say "Deal" because Izuku isn't even sure he got half of what she was saying, but she seems nice and if Skyrim taught him anything is that you should treasure everyone willing to be your friend, so they hang out together, scheming and plotting without even realising it.

Tsuyu however pretty much got the gist of what Hatsume was saying (it was a crowded lunch break after all) and while she does know Izuku doesn't seem the type of the interdimensional conqueror, she still decides to call dibs on North America in exchange of becoming his Grand Admiral.

And Who knows, maybe he'll end up starting an actual line of Dragonborn Emperors there too.

Anyway that's the rough draft.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #bnha au #skyrim #elder scrolls

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Lacuna - Chapters 5-8 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 13.9k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER FIVE --

With every passing day, you and Finnick manage to get closer. More information is swapped between the both of you. The nights where neither of you can sleep because the games are only getting closer, you two swap stories. He’ll tell you stories of his family. Some of them are things he’s experienced directly, other’s it’s a family tale.

He’ll tell you about how he’s gotten so good at fishing. That originally his parents thought that he would be useless when it comes to providing, but he eventually came around. They just had to find out how he wanted to do it exactly. This is where the spear and the tridents come in. He tells you that he’s learned knots of his own, and he takes the time to teach you how to tie them. They’re all very effective.

Finnick one night, comes into your room--he tells you that you have the better view of the city, and that’s one of the reasons why he likes to sit in your room for so long--with some paper and a pencil. He sat at the window, drawing the city, flipping through papers quickly as he drew the Capitol people. Made designs of clothing on his own.

He’s not good, but the more he goes on, the more he seems to get a hang of it. It only takes an hour before he’s completely run out of paper. After that, he throws it into the corner of the room and goes back to staring out the window.

Finnick tells you of the kids he wants to have, but he’s always teetering on wanting them, and then changing his mind because he’s scared of them having to go into the games. But then he laughs bitterly and says that he’ll never have to worry about that after all, because he’s going to be killed.

This is when you’ve had enough of it. You tell Finnick that his odds are extraordinary, like your own. He wants to argue that the careers will win, but you firmly get a hold of his shoulders and simply tell him that if he does this to himself, then he won’t win at all. That the careers might have a bigger chance, but he can change those odds if he just tries harder.

You tell him that he’s lined up for a win. That he knows his knots, he knows how to throw. He’s learned different plans and how to start fires and set snares all in the span of three days. You tell him that he’s tall, so he’ll be able to run, and he’s fit and not underweight, and if he’s felt what it’s like to starve, then he’ll have another advantage, he’ll be able to go hungry for as long as it may take.

He’s charming, and smart. Elysia, Mags and his stylist are constantly telling that that the Capitol is swooning over him. That he’s become desirable because of how attractive he is. Finnick is going to have a good chance at getting sponsors, because he’s showing that capability. And for him to turn it all down just because he thinks that District One and Two are going to win is ludacris in your mind.

When you were done with the entire speech, there was silence. Before you had the chance to let go of him and go back to staring at the city, watching the lights get dimmer and brighter as they reflected off of the buildings, he kissed you. It wasn’t long, because he held you in place for a couple of seconds, before he backed off and went back to silence.

He thanked you, and you assumed it was because of you restoring his confidence, and then he turned the attention on you. Demanded to hear the stories from your family, know what happened to your parents. What it’s like having to parent a little sister and all of that.

You explain to him that since Mox is such a softie, he sometimes got picked on. Which is the sole reason you took on fighting lessons from the neighboring boys because they supported you beating the fuck out of the bullies. All it took was for you to jump on them one time, and they left your brother alone after that. Reed tried to be disapproving, but at the end of the night, you could tell he was proud.

You tell him that Alyssum gets bigger everyday, and you know that she’s going to grow up happy. She might feel lonely and sad because she never got to know your parents, and maybe yourself. But she’ll feel loved all the same, because you guys will be her parents. You’ll protect her, and teach her to fight and tie knots and fish like you were.

You explain how everything works in your family, how the young ones get taught how to survive at a young age. How you didn’t even realize that it was a thing until you arrived the other day. He laughed at that, and told you that he thinks that’s how it works with everyone. But you remind him that some of the kids that are about to be thrown in with you are nowhere near as skilled as you guys are.

Then you gush about all your interests. It gets sad when you tell him about how your parents die and it’s such a burden sometimes as you try to live up to be like your mom. It’s difficult for you to go into their room still because the wound is still relatively fresh, and he understands that. He mentions that he heard about the accident a while back and he meant to give you his condolences.

You tell him that you’ve recovered and you appreciate the thought at least. And instead of going back to his room that night, the both of you end up passing out on the floor. You remember bringing the blanket down from the bed and swaddling him in it first. You found another blanket inside of the bed chest, and you did the same to yourself.

He woke you up only an hour or so later with his own nightmare, and only then did it come to you, that he probably has nightmares of his own. Which is why he ends up dodging sleep most of the time. You’re not the only one that has the problem when it comes to sleeping, and it was a little dumb for you to think that you’d be the only one that has those kinds of things.

You woke him up of course, and he stayed up long enough to clear it from his mind before he went back to bed, absolutely exhausted. You too went to sleep, and then at noon Elysia had found the both of you passed out on the floor. She let you guys sleep for as long as she could afford, she clearly had heard you two talking and she knew how late you’d stayed up.

The others are still buying your stupid act. Thyme now struggles to hide her laughter when you mock them behind their backs. Finnick is just as amused, but he doesn’t have the same trouble of trying to hide it. He’s very good at covering for you when it comes to things.

And miraculously, throughout the last two days, neither of you had talked about the fact that he had kissed you. Almost like it has disappeared in thin air, or it was something you had hallucinated. This entire time, you’ve been going a little crazy over it, until he did it again yesterday.

He lingered a little bit though, he didn’t want to leave to go to bed in his own room. His hand still on your cheek, and the longer you two stood there, the more your body started to heat up out of embarrassment. And then as cheeky boys do, he uttered a small, “You’re pretty, you know that?” and left.

Needless to say you couldn’t sleep last night because of it. This morning you felt energized though, because today would be the day you finally get to perform for the gamemakers. They’ve been monitoring you for these last couple of days of course, but this is going to be it. Today will be the day where they set your score in stone.

“Eat well!” Elysia tells you and Finnick, “but not enough to make yourselves puke.”

That part is obvious.

You all sit in silence, you’re mostly imagining yourself inside of the room with the gamemakers alone. Trying not to be anxious, because there will be plenty of eyes on you. Trying to throw the spear straight as best as possible. Or you could throw some knives.

There was this trick that you’d learned from Reed a while back. He only showed you how to do it once, and then no matter how many times you begged for him to do it again, he never would. Thought that it was useless and would never come in handy for any situation, especially for the games.

You’ll need two knives, and two seperate dummies.

“Is the training area closed?” you ask once you’ve swallowed your stew, looking to Elysia.

“Yes, since you’ll be doing it in private today, they don’t see a reason for you to practice. You’ve had three days to do whatever it is you want to learn now.” she tells you.

“No, not learn.” you tell her, looking over the table, You settle for the blackberries in the middle of the table. You pick up the spoon, beginning to mash the berries. They watch you curiously as you pick up two knives, and then head out of the room.

You’re not very hungry anyway.

In the confinements of your own room, you lock the door. With the mashed berries, you use it to draw two people, a little taller and a little shorter than you. You place the mush off to the side as you back up, watching as it slides down the wall from the layers being a little two thick.

With one hand, you place the knives between your fingers. The aim for this is to get the left one in the head and the right in the chest. And on the first try, you only get the taller drawing. One in the chest, the other in the groin.

Just like that, you go back and forth. Pulling the knives out of the wall, leaving nice holes leaving behind. You’re about to give up on it, because you’ve been getting close, but not exactly. Until you nail it. You replicate the throw you did a couple of times, get the knives back and throw in the exact same way. With the same result.

After about thirty more times of the same result, with different distances and all, the hole where they keep landing is pretty big, and one of them even slips through and falls inside. You laugh, looking at all the damage you’ve caused, knowing that they’re going to have to repair this all by themselves. There won’t be any time for punishment because they’re already sending you inside of the games.

The second you’ve walked out of the room, Elysia hands you the outfit, not even asking why there has been thumping for the past hour, and she leaves. You get dressed and end up meeting Finnick in the hallway to see he has a similar outfit. You go to shut the door when he places his foot there, sticking his head in.

“You threw knives at the wall?” he asks, “Are those people outlines?”

You grab his arm, pulling him out and shutting the door behind you. He laughs, and slips his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he guides you to the elevator. Mags and Elysia don’t even blink at the fact that he’s holding your hand at all. After they’ve escorted you to the room, they go back to the floor, where you’ll meet them.

You sit in the District Four spot with Finnick, talking to Allio, Lennox, Trink and Eytelle until they’ve left. Then, you look over the District Three boy curiously, wondering if he’ll want to be your friend inside of the arena. Then he too, leaves.

The girl goes, and you turn to Finnick, “You’ve got this, okay? Plenty of skills, I’m sure they’ll have something for you in there.”

“You too.” he tells you, and then his name is called. He’s pulling his fingers from your hand but stops long enough to kiss your forehead. Once the door shuts behind him, Thyme snorts.

“You guys dating?” a couple of the others snicker.

“I have no clue.” you whisper.

“But you like him?” one of the girls ask, she seems excited to talk about something, have a little bit of drama to pass around. Ignore the impending doom that’s creeping up on you guys the more that time goes on.

You can feel your face get hot, “I think so.”

“Who doesn’t?” one of the boys sigh, he’s got his head leaned up against the wall. You’re pretty sure he’s from District Seven—Mac, his district mate nods along, Cass.

You guys go back and forth on it, them asking you questions, but you don’t reveal too much. The only person you consider giving the information to is Thyme, since she’ll be in the alliance. The others will think that the way to get to you will be to kill Finnick, which isn’t entirely true.

You’re trying to distance yourself from those feelings, but it’s kinda hard to do. He’s holding your hand, he’s kissing you. You’re learning about all the things he did back home, how his family life was. He’s sleeping with you on your bedroom floor, and through all of this you’re digging up memories to compensate for all the memories he’s giving to you. And along with that is coming the feelings for him you never knew you had before. Or, the ones you suppressed because you never thought you had a chance with him.

Finnick talked to so many girls, they swooned over him. But he never dated any of them, and that’s what kept the girls coming. They thought that he was always playing hard to get but maybe….

You can’t afford to dig them up.

Fifteen minutes seem to drag on. As you’re forced to keep up with the conversation, listening to them list off all his good qualities, sinking you deeper into your feelings. Just before you get up, one of the girls mention how you’re lucky. Not because of his good looks, but because he seems to care about you a lot. He’s going to be good in the games and she seems to think that he’ll try to protect you.

When you walk into the room, you see that the gamemakers are watching you walk in. You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. Your hands are a little shaky, but you ignore them for the most part, “(Y/n) Gallows, District Four.”

You set up two dummies on the other side of the room. Then you use the berries to mark the spots where you’re going to hit them exactly. On the way back, you pick up the knives, and turn to look at the gamemakers.

“You may begin.”

You place the knives between your fingers, with the exactly placing being perfect. One breath in, and then out, you draw your arm back.

The knives fly from your fingers quickly, and the sound of the dummies hitting the wall makes a dull thud sound fill the air. You stare for a moment, like you can’t believe you just showed them this trick of all things. But then you see you got them exactly where you had marked. There’s not even a little bit of the berries showing, it’s just… knife.

You turn to look at the gamemakers, and they nod, giving each other looks. Some lean over to talk to others, and they dismiss you from the room. On the way back to the elevator, the jitteriness of it all escapes your body, and you finally feel normal again. It slowly starts to come to you the longer it takes for you to get back, that you probably scored high, it was threatening enough.

It had to be more impressive because they were at different heights, and the precision, how you did it so quickly with no practice throw before. The distance between you and the dummies were over twenty feet clearly. You might not use that exact maneuver inside of the arena, but you’ll definitely be able to do something like it. Close, far, your aim is impeccable. You’re deadly, like you’ve been telling yourself the entire time.

Once inside of the apartment, you go ahead and sit on the couch. Elysia tells you that it might take a while for the program to come around, so you curl up and take a nap in the meantime.

When they do come to wake you, you see that Laurel and Finnick’s stylist have also joined you inside. Mags sits in an adjacent chair that’s twice the size she is, but she looks comfortable. Finnick is just by your feet, and Elysia is next to him.

“Here we go.” Elysia mutters, before turning on the television.

They introduce the program first, explaining it as if the people in the Capitol would suddenly forget how all of this works. And then, they start with the first district, Lennox. He gets a solid score of ten, and Trink follows with a nine. Allio gets a nine, Eytelle gets the same. The boy from District Three gets a ten, the girl only gets an eight.

And then so quickly, Finnick shows up on screen. Without even thinking about it, your hand finds his, and you’re both squeezing tightly.

“Finnick Odair, with a score of…” Caesar purposely builds tension, “Ten.”

“Wow!” Elysia cheers, looking to him with big eyes, “You did well!”

“Now for (Y/n).” Finnick gives you a look, and the both of you start squeezing again.

“(Y/n) Gallows,” Caesar nods at the paper, “Ten.”

You’re even, the both of you are even. But you’ve gotten higher than Eytelle, Trink and Allio. You, Finnick and Lennox are the high scoring ones. They’ll be sure to take this into consideration.

“That’s good!” Elysia looks genuinely happy.

Finnick doesn’t release your hand, but the both of you don’t hold on as tight. Instead, you watch as the numbers fly by, revealing just how capable some of the other districts are. Most score a seven to nine, none getting as high as a ten. Only a few, the younger ones, fall below a six.

And then it gets to Thyme, you find yourself holding your breath again. Until she gets a score of nine. You hope that’s because she threw the knives like you taught her to. Or she had her own set of deadly skills that she hadn’t bothered to show off before.

You guys gather for dinner, the stylist joining you for once. You stuff yourself full as usual. Mags is the first to excuse herself tonight. She’s been doing a lot more later, putting herself out there. Elysia and Mags have been talking you guys up over the chances that you have to win. Only Mags can truly secure every single sponsor, and send them through during the games.

She says that you guys have promise, but the interview in two days really will determine how everything goes.

After Mags is you, and Finnick takes that same opportunity. You take the time to thank Laurel for all the outfits that she’s been making lately, and she brushes you off, saying that it’s really nothing. Then after that, you’re heading back to your room as usual.

Finnick sticks around again, but not for as long. He doesn’t kiss you like the nights before and like this afternoon. But he does bid you goodnight and leaves you to be alone. To sit and wallow in all the emotions that you’re feeling.

The main one being anxiety.

--CHAPTER SIX --

It’s obvious that they’ve been watching your body language, and it’s kinda hard to hide it when Finnick is so out there with it. Like he’s purposely trying to draw people in to thinking that you two are together. It isn’t a bad strategy, to bring in more sponsors and shit like that.

But then you remember that they won’t see you side by side really. It won’t be until you’re standing with the others, watching the interview go on, when you’ll see what happens. The only time they have seen you together was during the second day, and maybe during the training session days. You’re not sure if they show that footage or not actually.

You just hope they don’t have cameras here, inside of the apartment, or you’d be screwed. They’d be able to broadcast all the private moments you’ve had with Finnick for the entire Capitol and the people back home to see. Or the kiss before the private training....

It doesn’t matter to you that Mags, Elysia, Laurel and--you’ve finally learned Finnick’s stylist’s name--Pleurisy know of your encounters. Mags is staying in the same building that you are, so she’s bound to know what’s going on. Elysia has caught you two only once, and even though she isn’t chatty to you and Finnick much, she definitely goes at it when talking to Laurel and Pleurisy.

Just by the looks they’re giving the both of you, it’s obvious.

Elysia thinks for a moment, and then she shrugs. You’re not sure what that’s about exactly, but she backs up.

And then proceeds to spend so much time hammering in manners that she seems are proper. She’ll tell you to sit with your back straight, hands together. A constant smile is on your face, and you manage to keep that on for a long time. She asks if you can get the blush going like you did on the chariot ride, and it isn’t very hard to do it this time.

Finnick asks what’s your secret, and you don’t give him a single word. Because the truth is, you’re thinking of all the times he’s kissed you. How it’s made you feel, talking about it with the other tributes as if you guys were a bunch of friends and they were teasing you about your crush.

You think of all those girls back home who like him so much, and here he is choosing you. You think about how Reed will absolutely destroy Finnick if it gets back to him that you’re kissing Finnick. How he’ll go big brother mode and then proceed to give you a talk when it comes to boys.

You’ll remind him that you’re not actually dating and it was harmless flirting. At least that’s what you’re thinking, or hoping actually. But you know deep down that it’s not flirting because flirting isn’t kissing. Flirting is teasing, and glancing across the room at each other when the other isn’t looking.

You’ve slipped past the flirting stage, and you’re heading to something else that you’re not excited for. One of you is going to die inside of the arena, and it’s going to ruin everything between you two. The other will be devastated because of the fling that was going on, and you’ll struggle to overcome it. Maybe it’ll be easy. Maybe it’ll be a reason to continue to go on, to win and go home.

You’re able to do everything that Elysia wants you to do easily. The blushing, the giggling, the specific wave style. How your legs cross, hands in your lap. Your body posture, the look of wonder and curiosity in your eyes.

Elysia is confused on how you do it so well. You take a guess that Finnick knows what your trick is. All those months of pretending to be alive during school paid off a little too well. Those months have left you a partial actress, the Capitol people are going to be putty in your hands. For once, you’ll be manipulating what they think of you.

A part of you is excited to go into the games. You’ll play off this stupid look but the second you get inside you’ll turn into a machine. The entire act can be dropped off and you can go back to being cold, and really hating this entire thing. No more acting like you love it here, or the people around you. No more playing pretend, you’ll finally be able to be yourself.

Because the truth is, you’re not always this happy. The smile on your face nearly falters after a while as you struggle to not think about what it’s going to be like in the games. How your entire life will be changed when you get back home. Nothing will be the same, you’re not going to be happy when you get back home.

You’re going to remember every face that you kill. Learn their names and eventually meet their families and--

“Are you crying?” Elysia sounds appalled, but it has to be shock.

You wipe your hands on your face, and when you pull them away you can see only a little bit of wetness. You’ve only just started crying it seems.

Finnick jumps to comfort you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” you try to brush him off, and he looks like he’s going to argue with you, but then he accepts it. You know that he’ll bring this up later tonight, since the both of you sit in your room with the nice view in silence. Tonight will not be filled with silence.

Elysia moves on to helping Finnick. She brings out the inner confidence, and you watch a he transforms completely. He sits up taller, which means that he’s been slouching this entire time. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice that, but knew that Eytelle was doing it. Maybe it’s because she’s nearly six foot, as Finnick is only five foot seven-ish right now.

He’ll get taller, he’s only fourteen right now. There’s plenty of time for him to keep growing. The same goes for you, but you’ll still end up being shorter than him no matter what happens. Boys are tall, girls are normally short, with the exception of Eytelle and her giant genes apparently.

Finnick smiles, and when he does, it sends butterflies through your stomach. You find yourself biting your lip hard, trying to fight back the smile that wants to creep over your face each time he looks to you. He plays the charming role well, and soon enough you’re forgetting the fact that you were crying, focusing on Finnick.

Elysia slowly transitions into asking you and Finnick questions--ones that Mags had come up with. You’ll go first, answering the question as humbly as possible, flashing a smile and making sure that it reaches your eyes. Every now and then you’ll widen your eyes, drop your mouth open like you’re taking in information. But the smile will reappear, and you’ll say something dumb like ‘wow!’.

Finnick sounds much smarter. He lets the spotlight stay on him for a little bit, and then he’ll turn it on Elysia. When the question of winning comes up, he tells Elysia that he thinks he’s got a good chance, and then refers back to his number. You answer will a flush, a giggle and then a tiny shrug, simply saying that you’re sure that you won’t be dumb enough to die in the bloodbath.

It isn’t until you’re halfway through the interview when you realize that they might not buy the act anymore, because of the ten you had scored. This is when you ask Mags if the other tributes will realize that it is an act, and she shrugs. She doesn’t give you a straight answer, letting Elysia read it out to you.

Mags says that they’ll probably just think you’re skilled in some way. If you’ve been keeping it up behind the scenes, even without the careers around, then they’ll probably believe it. You then realize that you probably fucked it up a little bit when it came to Thyme and Finnick when you wandered around with just them for a while during the training sessions. That the others probably saw that you weren’t this dumb, bubbly girl who can’t believe that she’s learning so much in so little time.

You remember the fifteen minutes before your own private session with the gamemakers, and you decide that you did a pretty good act there. You must have looked hopelessly in love or something if they kept talking. They’re going to see you as some love-struck girl that has no clue what the fuck is going on. That’s probably for the best.

You guys go ahead and eat lunch once you’re done with the little coaching session. You definitely feel better about the interview. It’s not like it’s going to last long, only three minutes. The buzzer will go off before you know it, and suddenly you’re going to be worrying about being thrown into the games. This is all going to be too fast.

You avoid conversation with Finnick as much as possible. But unlike other days, you purposely stay at the table, eating slowly. Watching as Finnick stuffs himself quickly like you had been doing this entire time. Before you know it, Mags has excused herself from the table. Ten minutes pass--which is normally when you also try to escape--but you’re still eating. Finnick, eating so quickly and so much, is clearly full and can’t stand anymore.

When he leaves the table, it’s just you and Elysia. She seems to wait for Finnick to be gone completely, watching his retreating figure.

This is probably the only time you have sat with Elysia alone. You and Finnick are normally sticking around each other, even around Mags. It’s because the both of you are in it together. There’s really no point of sitting around Elysia unless she’s providing you with information. Where you’re going next, what’s going to be happening at whatever time…

“Aren’t you going to go too?” she asks, and you look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of blonde hair.

You turn back to her, scooping up a spoonful of stew, “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Well, when you’re done eating I’ve got to teach you how to walk in heels. So finish quickly.” She’s pleased with the fact that you’re not leaving as quickly as you normally do.

Soon enough, you get tired of the taste of the stew. This is when Elysia calls up Laurel, and takes you to a spare room that you haven’t been into yet. Elysia gets you fitted into the shoes right when Laurel appears out of nowhere.

The shoes aren’t too bad at the beginning. They have you walk in all sorts of ways. Making sure to make small steps, or bigger steps where they make your hips move a certain way. The entire point of this is to make you look appealing, and more girlish in their opinion.

It’s a little bit later when you realize just how tight the shoes are. Laurel takes the size of the shoe, makes adjustments with the width and length, and then sends it to the assistants that you’ve only seen a total of three times. You’ll see them again tomorrow before and during the interview, since they’re supposed to be sitting in the front row with the other stylists.

When you’ve got the walk down, and your feet are officially aching, you’re allowed to take them off. You’re dismissed, allowing you to go back to your room to take a nap. You don’t get that far though, because Finnick is already sitting by the window, pad of paper and pencil in hand as he’s sketching again.

He’s clearly heard you come in, these doors aren’t very quiet. Yours especially, it squeaks like it’s been overused, and even if you try to turn the doorknob to make it more quiet, it clicks.

“I’m pretty sure you have the wrong room.” you joke, sliding off the flats you’ve been wearing all day.

Over his shoulder, you see it’s a drawing of you. Sitting on that couch, tears spilling over your eyes and down your cheeks. He must have photographic memory if he’s able to draw this so well. It was so long ago too, a couple hours at least.

“Are you okay?” Finnick asks finally, just as you sit down next to him with a little distance in between.

“I was just thinking about what will happen post-games.” you tell him, bringing your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs, “If I make it out, I’m not going to be the same.”

“None of us will.” Finnick says, and you look over to see that his face is blotchy. He’s been crying too.

“What about you?” you ask, because he looks like he needs the support, “What’s got you down?”

“I just miss home.” he says simply, the pencil on the paper stops, and you see that he’s made a perfect picture in his own style. He closes the little makeshift sketchbook and tucks it beneath a chair nearby, along with the pencil.

Just like that, you’re off to sitting by each other quietly again. But no words are needed, just basking in each other’s companies.

Again, the both of you fall asleep on the floor. But you’re wide awake for most of the night, busy staring down at the city. It isn’t until Finnick stirs around two in the morning, when you think you should go back to bed. He doesn’t allow you to make you own little bed, as he holds up one end of his blanket as an invitation to join him.

You’re about to tell him no, but he tells you that you need to sleep. If he just goes back to bed then you’ll probably stay up longer. This way, he’ll be sure you’ll go back to bed.

You know it’s a bad excuse as much as he does. But you comply, sliding beneath the blanket with him. You carefully wrap your arm around his waist like a hug, tucking your head beneath your chin. He uses both arms to pull you closer, letting one of them act like your pillow.

You don’t fall asleep for a while anyway like this. You try to even out your breathing to make it look like you’re sleeping. Even going to the length of closing your eyes, hoping that you will actually sleep, but it doesn’t come. You’re forced to lay here in Finnick’s arms, thinking about what it’s going to be like in the games.

It isn’t long until the tears come back, and you’re struggling to keep them from landing on Finnick to keep from waking him. It’s so funny how the tables have really turned. How he’s gone from being the insomniac, to you being the one who can’t sleep at all. You’re the one stuck in your thoughts, worrying about what’s going to happen.

At some point, you fall asleep. You’re not sure when but it had to be between the time of three to six in the morning. You briefly woke when Finnick got up to use the bathroom, but you went right back to sleeping. A couple hours later, Elysia had shown up to get you guys to eat breakfast.

You ate slowly, trying to savor everything. But soon Laurel gets impatient and she takes you to where she’ll be preparing you. Finnick is right by your side up until Pleurisy whisks him away. He can’t do more than wave, before the door is shut and you’re left to Laurel.

You listen to the assistants bubble. Jumping from topic to topic ecstatically. You can’t feel the same, you’re tired. They cover the bags underneath your eyes well, and eventually Elysia comes in to feed you an energy shot. You’re pretty sure it’s some type of coffee. In no time, you’re perking up and you feel just as bouncy as Laurel’s assistants.

They fix your hair, making it silky smooth, straight. And then they curl it up. They apply more highlight than anything this time. Telling you that you’re going to want to shine in the lights during the interviews. They say that it’s their personal favorite when the tributes will be a little shiny, a rainbow on their cheeks and noses, and wherever else they apply it too. They say that their friends enjoy it as much as they do.

Once they’re done, they slip out of the room, leaving you and Laurel alone. She quizzes you a little bit, and you’re smiling, and gushing and playing stupid again. She says that they’ll eat it right up, and that you’ll probably need one more energy shot, even though you feel like you’re going to bounce off the walls enough already.

Elysia comes in, feeds you the liquid, and that’s when she informs you that it’s good to be a little shaky. Humble is what you’re going for. Damsel is your main word. To be shaky and scared and a deer caught in headlights is what they’re going to want to see.

The shoes come last, and once you’re standing tall, your feet not being squeezed too tightly, you’re turned around to see yourself in the mirror. All you can ask yourself is if you’re going to be taller than Finnick with these heels on. They must have decided that since you did so well in the smaller ones, that you’ll do just fine with the bigger, taller ones.

You’ve grown at least three inches.

The dress is a beautiful baby blue. It’s an off the shoulder dress, and it relies mostly on your upper arm to stay in place. It clears room for your collarbones but doesn’t allow any cleavage to show. You’re happy for that part.

Around the top of the dress is white gems, upon closer inspection, they’re little water droplets. They’re placed irregularly, like they’ve been racing down a window when it’s been raining. The dress is long sleeved, but the arms are made out of the same see-through material the chariot outfit was made out of. It’s poofy, nowhere near skin tight.

The top part of the dress gathers at the waist, creating some wrinkles. This is where more gems appear, and then it gets bigger completely. It seems like leg slits are going to be your thing, because there’s one on this dress too. There’s two different materials for the bottom, the silk that’s the base, and then the same fabric that’s used for the arms and tops of the dress.

More blue eyeshadow and white eyeliner. Black mascara, you’re guessing because it brings out the color in your eyelashes more. Your mother’s ring is on your regular ring finger that you’ve been wearing it on this entire time. The shell necklace isn’t anywhere to be seen, this time it’s almost a choker. It’s made out of chain, it’s another wave but it’s a little loose around the neck. It doesn’t slide, though, it stays in place no matter how much you move.

Laurel also gave you little water droplet earrings that dangle. They’re uneven of course, still building off of that ‘water runnin’ effect.

“Wow.” you turn to look at yourself more, “This is amazing--”

“I know.” Laurel smiles to herself, “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

She then escorts you back to where Mags, Pleurisy, Peeta, Elysia and the rest of the teams are. Finnick is wearing a white shirt beneath a navy blue suit. Clearly they’re trying to savor the more feminine blue for you. But you’re sure that it would look good on him too.

“Wow!” Finnick’s mouth drops open.

“Yeah, I know. I said the same.” you laugh.

You take the elevator down to where the stage will be. Lining up with the other tributes. Once you see the others, you can clearly tell that you two are standing out a little more. Finnick especially, Pleurisy’s hair stylist must have used a ton of product to get curls like this to stay in place on Finnick’s head.

Trink nods approvingly at what you’re wearing, and then she goes back to looking at the stage. Soon, she’s introduced and you watch as she goes up for her interview.

You’re not all that nervous, despite the fact that you’ve never really been in front of people like this. Except for at the reaping, that’s the only time you can recall being put in front of a ton of people at once.

Not to make yourself nervous or anything, but you’ll only be put in front of a small audience. The real numbers are the people in the Capitol, and the districts. Your brothers back home will be watching you get up on stage. Watch you play as the dumb girl. You wonder what they’ll think about it all.

Before you know it, three minutes has passed. And then again. You’re quickly moving on to District Two, and then three. It isn’t until you’re standing on the steps of the stage where you get the little butterfly feeling. Finnick squeezes your hand a little bit, and then lets it go completely.

“(Y/n) Gallows!” Caesar is calling. You smooth out your dress, before bounding up the steps, making your face heat up immediately. He reaches for you hand, and you take it gently, letting him guide you to where you need to stand.

You’re already looking to the crowd with the wondrous look in your eyes. When you catch a couple of people, you wave eagerly, a smile spreading over your face easily.

“You’ve been in the Capitol for a few days, now,” Caesar begins, and you turn to look at him, nodding a little bit, “Anything in particular stand out?”

Your mouth falls open as you mock thinking, and then you giggle, “This entire place is beautiful! A much different scenery than there is in District Four! I was a little bummed when I couldn’t see the ocean, though.”

“Ah, the ocean.” he nods thoughtfully, “I see you’re wearing it in little bits, tonight.”

“Oh, yeah!” Another giggle, you’re getting tired of this. You hold out your hand for everyone to see, extending your neck a little more as if it’ll straighten out the choker, but it hasn’t moved from it’s perfect spot this entire time, “It shimmers in the light! My stylist is very smart!”

The audience reacts accordingly, a couple people exclaim how pretty the entire outfit is, Caesar builds off of that, “That ring, is it a token from your district?”

You widen your eyes a little bit, nodding a little slower this time, “It was my mother’s. My brothers gave it to me before I left.”

“And did they come to say goodbye?” he asks.

Well, that’s what you just implied, Caesar. But you keep going, “Oh! Of course, that’s how I got the ring,” the both of you laugh for a moment. Caesar then asks what you told them before you left, “I told them I would try to win.” you tuck some hair behind your ear, trying for the innocent look.

The buzzer goes off, saving you from making you look anymore like an idiot. There’s a couple of complaints that it ended too early for you. But Caesar sees you off, and you take a seat. Trink looks over, eyeing you up and down, and you give her a small smile. She nods, and then goes to look to Finnick, her face expression shifting entirely. She elbows Lennox a bit.

They’re still sizing him up.

You scowl very briefly, catching your mistake as you then turn to Finnick. You catch his eye for a moment and he winks at you. The camera’s don’t miss it, and you hold your hands up to your face as if you’re embarrassed. The truth is, is that you’re trying to hide your laugh at his not-so-subtly flirting. The camera pans in to your face, you wave a little bit.

Finnick plays the cocky role very well. You watch as he’s got the audience watching him very intently, interested in what he’s going to say next. None of it is a surprise, after a while, they expect what his reaction to things are going to be. But that doesn’t stop them from cheering at everything he says. The crowd is absolutely fawning over him.

His time is up before you know it, and he joins you in the seating. The girl to District Five is called up, and during that time, when the audience and the camera’s attention is shifted, Finnick reaches for your hand. You allow it, scooting your chair over a little bit to make it less noticeable.

Finnick laughs at your attempt.

-- CHAPTER SEVEN --

“Favorite color?”

“I thought you asked me that already?” He asks, and you give him a look.

“No, you asked me that. Favorite color?”

He thinks for a moment now, which gives you time to think of your next question. You’re hardly as good as Finnick when it comes to questionnaires apparently. He had a ton of questions for you, all sorts of variety. And here you are, asking the basic questions like his favorite color.

“Sea green.” He says, and you can’t help it when you scrunch your face.

“Sea green?” You repeat, and he laughs, nodding, “Why?”

His face turns a little red, which obviously means that it has to be embarrassing. You’re sure that he doesn’t appreciate it when you lean towards him a little more, excited for what the answer is going to be. He scowls for only a moment, and then sputters out a laugh.

“It’s because—“ he shakes his head, “It’s the color of the dress you wore during the tribute parade.”

“That’s it?” You ask, “That’s what you were so embarrassed about? After everything that we’ve done together you’re blushy because your favorite color is the color of a dress I wore?”

Seeing how ridiculous this is, he laughs, shrugging slightly, “I guess so.”

You yawn again, and this time you struggle to keep your eyes open after. Finnick laughs at you, and you lazily swing to punch him in the arm. It isn’t very hard, but it’s enough to make him complain about it.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You tell him, using the window to get up. Then, you trudge over to the bed, flopping onto it, “I’ve got to sleep.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tells you, his voice faraway.

You’re about to agree that you’ll see him tomorrow. Until your brain starts thinking over what’s going to happen exactly. Is it another training day? Or is it something else?

And that’s when your eyes fly open and you sit upright on the bed. All the tiredness suddenly drains from your body as you look to Finnick.

You’re going into the games tomorrow—or today. It has to be sometime early in the morning. Today is the day you’ll be put on a pedestal. Sometime in the evening, you’ll be placed with the others.

“What is it?” Finnick asks.

You’ll be forced to kill your fellow tributes.

“We—the games.” You gasp, jumping out of the bed as you return to the window. The festival has long since stopped, probably because they’ll need to be up early tomorrow to watch you guys fight against each other. There will be reruns, but they like to be there when it actually happens.

“What about them?” Finnick comes back over to you slowly, and you place your hand against the window, then you turn to Finnick.

“They’re today! The games—!”

“Did you forget?” He asks.

Did you?

You’ve had this past week of getting prepared for sponsors, worrying about learning new tricks and making allies. You’ve been so caught up in Finnick and your feelings. You’ve neglected to think about when the games start. You’ve been having so much… so much fun that you’ve forgotten to count down the days.

You’ve been so carefree.

Maybe you are a damsel.

“I did.” You tell him, turning to the window, “I did forget.”

You have to get rest tonight or you’ll be screwed later. Even if it takes hours, as long as you try, it’ll be better than nothing.

“Bed, sleep.” You tell him, “Stay or go, I don’t care.”

“Staying.” He seems glad at the invitation.

Finnick curls up around you, and seems to fall asleep faster. You have to coax yourself into a mindset until you’re there. But even then, Finnick’s breathing is throwing you off and every time he shifts, you can’t help but jolt awake.

Eventually, you make a pattern out of Finnick’s breathing, matching it with your own. Slowly dragging you down under, until you’ve fallen asleep too.

The morning passes like a blur, though. Elysia wakes you up, Finnick nowhere to be seen. Then she tells you that he was up early, and he’s still taking a shower. Says you might as well do the same, so you take your time with scrubbing yourself clean, unsure when the next time will come.

Inside the games, they’ll likely offer a place for water in a couple of areas. But all the times you’ve watched and paid attention, it was mostly streams and ponds. Hardly anything above a pond. But the location changed every year, so maybe you’ll get lucky.

The longer you spend inside, the more likely you’ll get scars, and have dirt build up on your body. Under your nails, in your hair, in the creases of your skin. Blood does the same, which is why you’re hoping you won’t get the pleasure of having to kill anyone. And if you do, it doesn’t get all over yourself. The last thing you’ll need is having to walk around with blood on you for a while.

Clothes are one thing, but the skin is another. You’ll be able to feel when it layers onto your skin. When it dries and cracks in the heat. You hope that it doesn’t get too thick enough to the point where it’ll be able to be peeled off. Or you don’t accidentally smear it all over yourself.

Clothes you can wash, and you don’t feel the blood directly if it’s on the clothes. More like the weight, but even then it’s not really something to be worrying about.

You move your hair out of your face, this time so you won’t have to worry about it getting in your face when you’re running. Or during the small duration of the bloodbath at the cornucopia. You’re not entirely sure what the other career’s plans are, but to secure the cornucopia would be the best idea.

All the food, clothes, medicine and weapons you could ever want will be placed inside of it. It’ll have spears and tridents. Iodine for the water. Bread, dried fruits and vegetables. Clothes if yours get ripped and ruined from fighting.

It’s normally the career’s ideals for winning the games. They secure the one place that’ll keep them alive—because they don’t normally go hungry they’ll starve easily. Deprive them of weapons and they’ll be forced to use fists, while you might have made one yourself, or someone like the boy from district three. Medicine if they get hurt after hunting down the local tributes during the first couple of days.

Of course, they can get sponsors as well as the rest of you. But for the sponsors it’s less likely, because they do have the cornucopia. If they have all they ever need at the reach of a hand then what’s the point of sending them anything? If they run out of things towards the end of game, the prices skyrocket, and then sponsors don’t want to send shit anymore.

You hope that won’t be the case with you.

The plan is to kill the careers as fast and efficiently as possible. Do it without alerting the others, and go from there. Luring them seems brilliant, and the first one on your list is Trink. She’s going to get what’s been coming at her for the last couple of days. And like you said on the train when you were on the way here, she seems capable. She’s bigger than the average girl that gets thrown in, especially for a career.

You’re rushed when it comes to breakfast, because they’ve got to get you extracted to the arena as soon as possible. Elysia bids you and Finnick goodbye, before taking off to the betting area. Where she’ll be lining up the sponsors for Mags.

Mags gives you the bit of advice that you already know, to stay the hell out of the bloodbath and run in the other direction. The only problem with that is, is that you’re technically in the career pack. Running is out of the question, you’re going to have to head right on in. Also to set up a temporary camp, food and water, stock up as much as you can.

Mags kisses your foreheads, and she’s off too. Laurel comes in to escort you to the plane with Finnick and his stylist, Pleurisy. There, Laurel promises to see you again really soon, and you and Finnick are brought up to the plane.

Once inside, he’s sat across from you. A man comes up to you, a thick needle in his hand as he looks over it slightly. You hold your arm out reluctantly, you’ve never been afraid of needles and you’re not going to start now. He presses the needle to your arm, and then finally looks to you, “Tracker.”

When he slides it in with no prior notice, you jump a little bit. You wince when it’s inserted, because it does hurt. And then he moves on to another unlucky tribute, but they don’t look as willing. You watch as she has to have her arms held, and even then she’s struggling.

“Hey!” you push yourself up, and Finnick goes to grab your hand to stop you. Sliding past him, you move the workers aside, “You can’t assault her like that.”

“We’re not.” the man who put the tracker in your arm says.

“You’re going to leave bruises and that’s against the rules. Even if you’re not getting thrown in personally, we’re supposed to be packaged goods.” you shove him aside, the other girl working for the Capitol moves out of the way for you. You crouch down in front of the district girl, and it looks like she might be from twelve. Wobbly knees, probably one of the poorer parts of the district.

“Can I see your arm please?” you ask her, and she carefully shows you it. You’re very gentle when you place your finger where the tracker will go, “Just right here. It’ll pinch a whole lot, but the pain goes away, okay?”

She nods, but doesn’t look happy. You offer her your hand, and she takes it. The man goes to do it, then he stops the second he sees the look in your eye. The girl gladly steps in, and she’s very gentle too when placing it in. Giving the twelve girl a heads up before placing it in. The girl squeezes as tightly as possible, but soon she stops.

You brush her hair back and give a smile, “See? Not so bad.”

“Thank you.” she mumbles, and you laugh, going back to where you were sitting before.

The plane ride is quiet, you and Finnick mostly steal glances at each other. Until you’re lowered to where you need to be in the tunnels. There, you’re split up. He doesn’t go before giving you a quick kiss though, promising to find you in the mess that will go on above. Told you not to get killed too quickly. He wants the district back home to at least know that you’re a thing.

Laurel is very courteous. She asks you if there’s anything she can get you at the last minute. You get bread and water, filling yourself up as full as possible before you’re sent up. You hope that Finnick has enough sense to do the same.

She tells you that it was a pleasure being able to design your outfits. She tells you that you and Finnick are her best bets. She says that she’ll send anything she can afford when you’re in need of it. And you promise her too, that you’ll try and win. You’ve been making this promise a lot lately, whether you’ve mentioned it or not.

Your brothers, Caspian, Finnick, Elysia, Mags and now Laurel. You really have to fall through with it now.

When the final countdown is announced, you give Laurel a hug, apologize for the mess you’re about to leave behind, and then she stops you, grabbing your hand. She slips on the ring, telling you that it passed the test. She wishes you good luck, you step in the tube.

It feels just like a coffin.

-- CHAPTER EIGHT --

They raise you slowly, allowing you to take in your first sights. Which is a blue sky, clear of anything abnormal. The higher you get, the more you can see. Trees, plenty of them to your right. You can smell the faint scent of the sea, or some salty body of water. It’s close.

Higher up you can see sand, and then you see the water. The arena is shaped like a dome, so there’s not really any corners. But it’s sectioned off like there’s supposed to be corners. The cornucopia is in the very middle, staring at it dead on you can see two of the terrains. Behind it to the right is a beach, palm trees litter it, beyond that is the body of water that you can smell. The beach doesn’t last for too long, but just enough to make the water look like a mirage.

You can hear a waterfall, hopefully buried somewhere inside of that water area. A place you’ll be able to retreat to if the alliance goes to shit. You’ll have to mention that to Finnick privately, let him know that would be the rendezvous spot if you two were to be split up. Or the other would be driven out by the stupid ass tributes that you made friends with.

You may or may not be regretting that now.

Because it would be so much easier to kill them than keep them around. But anything to survive what you’re about to live through, right?

There’s trees all around the rest of the place. The cornucopia is in a very small clearing, only large enough to hold the pedestals for the tributes and the cornucopia itself. Most of the trees nearly come into contact with the metal plates, it’s cutting so close.

If the girl next to you really wants, she could lean over and touch the branch behind her. You hope she has the common sense not to do it. However, that would be the fastest way to go so you don’t have to die a painful death. Getting exploded into a million pieces because you stepped off before the designated sixty seconds, really is tempting.

She doesn’t do it, and before you know it, the first thirty seconds have passed.

There’s a ring of tributes, and you try to memorize who is where. There’s only so many you can see because of the structure blocking it. That’s fine, you’re sure that most of them will try to run anyway.

To your right is the girl from ten, you think. Small, feeble, easy to kill if she tried to come at you. Next to her is the boy from three, and he looks like he’s positioning himself to run, not a problem. Lennox is next to three, and the both of you make eye contact for a moment. He grins, like he’s enjoying the first shot of adrenaline that he’s going to be getting the second he steps off. Asshole.

Girl from three, boy from six, Eytelle. She also looks like she’s going to be running towards the cornucopia, so it looks like that you’re going to be doing is obvious. You’re going to have to match what they’re doing. Can’t be seen as the chicken who didn’t want to go right on in. You may be playing dumb, but you’re not that dumb.

Next to you is the girl from seven, Cass. She offers you a small nod, like she’s challenging you to a race. She’ll be stepping off for the middle, which isn’t great. You liked her, and you were hoping that she’d be alive for a long time. Trink is on the other side of her, and she’s eyeing Cass like she wants to pounce immediately and not even wait for the weapons.

Another couple of nobodies after that, and then you can’t see anymore. This only means that Finnick, Thyme and Allio are on the other side. Maybe Cass’s district mate too, but he’s not a part of the alliance. You’ve only kept a tab on the seven tributes because they’re good with axes. If they’re smart, they’ll team up with the boy from three to get their own personal weapons made. But it doesn’t look like they’re that smart.

You look up to the sky to see an extra five seconds. How you’ve managed to analyze that so quickly, you’re unsure. But you’re glad that you’re processing things quickly. Because you’ve got to go.

The gong sounds, and you’ve stepped off the metal plate instantly, sprinting towards the middle as fast as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that not even Lennox is that fast. You’re first to the cornucopia, getting your hands on a sword first, since the spears are buried in the back. Along with whatever else will be put there for specific districts.

One quick glance, no trident in sight. Finnick will suffer.

You spin around quickly, and ten is at the edge of your sword, reaching for a weapon herself. You can feel that fear pierce your heart quickly, and suddenly you’re swinging the sword as fast as you can manage. Eyes glued to the girl to make sure that she doesn’t get to you first.

However, you have the misfortune of watching her head come clear off. The blood squirts everywhere but onto you. But you can still feel the spots where it should be itching. Your neck, face, arms, the rest of your body. Thick, thick layers--

“Wow!” Trink’s voice is peppy, and she takes the sword from your hand quickly, “Good job, Gallows.”

She throws the sword at a boy from five. You watch as it goes clean through his back, he falls to his knees. All sorts of things spill from his arms, scattering around his body. Around him, there is no one.

The boy from district six then comes in, like he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to kill you guys. But he falls too, blood trickling out of his mouth, dribbling down his chin. You’re not surprised to see Allio, Finnick and Thyme. Thyme is being held onto tightly by Allio, he throws her forward.

“Tried to run. Let her mate go.”

“Should kill her now--” Trink starts circling her like a vulture.

Behind her, a glint of light. You take the knife from one of the boxes likely filled with food and medicine, and you throw it before you even see who it is. Just like that, you watch as Thyme’s district mate falls, sword falling from his hands too. The one that you had used on the first girl, and the one that Trink had used on the boy from five.

You step out of the cornucopia long enough to see who’s dead, and while you’ve been caught up in watching them kill the others, you completely spaced the fact that there might be more dead. It wasn’t just you guys fighting, everyone had been struggling to get the stray items that were strewn randomly to at least give them a chance. It’ll be a boring set of games if you’re able to kill them immediately.

Cass is dead, a snapped neck you’re sure. Boy from five and six it looks like, they’re from you guys. You got the girl from ten and the boy from eleven. But the girl from three is like a starfish, facing the sky. A couple feet away is the girl from eight, and then the boy from nine is just on the edge of the trees.

“Three kills.” Allio sounds proud of himself, “You guys?”

“Thanks for the save.” Trink winks at you, and then she dives straight into the boxes, forgetting about killing Thyme.

“One.” Finnick tells you, you whisper your small ‘two’.

Trink snorts, “Two. The stupid lumberjack bitch thought she’d be able to make it here before I could. Then five was too easy.”

Lennox hadn’t got anyone, he fought the boy from ten for a minute but he slipped out of grasp. Eytelle and Thyme are both zero, Eytelle doesn’t seem too ashamed by the number, she says that she’ll just make up for it later. Which really opens your eyes to see that they think this shit is just one big fucking game for them.

You guys pack up a bag or two, before clearing out of the cornucopia to allow the gamemakers to collect the bodies. You take the canteens and the iodine down to the water, filling up. On the way, you can hear the cannons.

You count them out for the others, deciding that you can have the brains now.

“Only eight?” Allio sounds unimpressed.

“Not many people to kill in the first place.” Thyme mutters, filling up her canteen with water, and then looking into it a little bit, like she’s suspicious, “There’s seven of us already.”

Eytelle shrugs, “Still a good number down. I’m sure that we’ll be able to get more tonight.”

You share a look with Finnick, wondering if you’ll be able to take out one of them during that time. He must be thinking the same thing, because he looks down, smiling at the ground. He carefully shuffles over to you, before throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“Mags is probably mad at us.”

“I would be too.” you laugh, and you guys get a little close for a second, like he’s about to kiss you. But then he pulls away, and Lennox wants to go back to the middle before one of the others can rob you guys.

Like you said, they’re about securing the middle so they can thrive off of it the entire time. Makes you wonder if it’ll be possible to destroy everything in the middle to keep them from living for so long. Blame it on one of the singled out tributes that won’t be anywhere to be seen until the final minutes.

The boy from three would be perfect. He knows his way around weapons, so it would be believable if he destroyed it. However, that would just mean you’re placing a bounty on his head, and you’re not entirely sure if you’ll be able to live with that. But then again, you’ve already killed two people, who’s to say that hasn’t ruined you already?

Maybe it won’t be you killing him directly, but one of the others will be doing it. The guilt will eat you alive—then again you have just killed two people, where’s your guilt now?—and you’ll have to see the families of the tributes you killed if you do win. For people like Trink, Allio, Lennox and Eytelle, it’s not a big deal.

They’ve been training for this their entire lives. They volunteer, they’re not picked. They want to be inside of the games, so they can have the cash and glory when they get back home. They’ll stand proud in front of the tribute families, they’ll sneer at the ones that they killed. They don’t fucking care because to them, it’s just a small price to pay for a big house, infinite money and the memory of being a winner.

Careers are fucking nuts.

You pull Thyme and Finnick back a moment, the others don’t notice. Too busy planning out when you guys will go out and kill. Makes you sick to your stomach.

“There’s a waterfall in the lake.” You tell them, “We scope it out, check to make sure if it’s possible to stay inside. If we get separated, we go back there.”

They nod, and then you bounce a little bit, letting the smile come over your face, “So, are we going out tonight?”

“Yeah, might as well,” Allio flashes you a look, “Up for it?”

“She’s got two under her belt, I’m sure she’s ready.” Finnick mutters, the others ignore it, and he turns to you, “How are you holding up?”

“Not insane yet.” You tell him, Thyme laughs at this, shaking her head.

At the cornucopia, you gather the backpacks for them. Inside, it’s got iodine, bread and a sleeping bag. All the other years they had packed well, if you had one of these, a knife and knew how to hunt, you would have to try to die. This year it looks like they decided to undersupply.

Thyme rations out the food, calmly explaining that they should try to eat as little as possible. The food will last longer that way, and it wouldn’t hurt for them to do it anyway. If you guys do happen to run low on food, then they’ll only have to eat a little bit to survive. She tells them to be prepared to drop in body weight, and stay hydrated. Water might be a good substitution.

You know all of this, so it isn’t a bother. You and Finnick stand next to each other. He keeps messing with your hair, and you keep ruffling his. A ton of curls lay on top, it looks like they did something to make them stay permanently. Personally, you prefer his straight hair, you hope that the curls will go away sooner rather than later.

He plays with your ring on your finger a little bit as you look around, distracted. Because the feeling that someone is watching you is beginning to freak you the hell out. You look over the tree line next to you first, and then the one behind Finnick.

The others are talking about where they want to start. By the lake on the left side or the right? They think no one will be dumb enough to try and go into that water unless they want to die. At sometime or another these other tributes had to have gone into the water and learned how to swim at some point, right?

You and Finnick are probably the best in the arena, coming from four. But that doesn’t mean that the others might be just as good.

If most of them can’t swim then that means the lake is the best bet.

Another idea pops into your mind, but you keep this one to yourself. In case there is a way to execute it, you’ll want it for emergencies. However, you wonder if there’s any willows hanging over the water. Or some vines running along the rocks.

Finnick will be able to make them a lot better than you will. But you’ll be able to tie the knots for him. You two can work together on it. It will have to be at the end of the games so they don’t see it coming. Draw in the careers and then kill them.

Perfect.

“We’re starting on the right of the lake.” Eytelle decides, tired of the bickering, “Let’s go.”

You keep your water in hand, knowing that there’s more in the bag if you run out. On the walk around the arena, you listen as they talk about their own family life. Occasionally they’ll ask you a question out of what looks like genuine curiosity. You keep the conversation flowing, because you want to know what the hell is in the minds of a couple of lunatics.

You find out that Thyme has a couple of sisters. Two older ones, one of them looks nothing like her, and it’s a speculation about who her mom had gotten with in order to have her. Her mom constantly denies that she cheated, but it’s a running joke. All of it is good fun.

Trink is an only child, but Lennox has a younger brother back home. Allio has an older sister but a ton of younger brothers. Eytelle is the oldest sister of two.

It goes around like that. You’ll ask a question, everyone will go around, and it stops at Finnick, even though you know almost everything about him now. Soon enough, you all are laughing it off, like a couple of actual friends.

It’s only been a few hours since the games have started. The sun isn’t that hot just yet, but you’re sure they’ll turn up the temperature later on. When the stakes are getting higher and the water runs dry.

Another hour passes just hunting. Thyme collects berries and leaves. She’ll peel bark off of trees and nibble on it in the men’s time. The others don’t seem as interested, and they even look down upon her a little bit. She says that if they can, then preserving the food would be smart.

Since you’re the only one with precise aim, you’re put on the duty of throwing knives. You’re able to take down a squirrel and rabbit. You see something move off to the side in the bushes, but you hesitate. The others don’t catch this, since they’re up ahead. But Finnick does, and he turns to look immediately.

Crouched in the bushes is the boy from three. He holds up a makeshift knife, and you don’t know if it’s meant to be threatening or not. Finnick looks like he wants to launch, but you settle the problem immediately by pressing your finger to your lips and motioning for him to get down. Then, you take Finnick’s arm and pull him along.

“What—“

“Shush.” You tell him, pushing past him as you get back to the others. But on the way, he holds you long enough to say;

“Making friends with everyone is not how you win.” And then he lets you go.

You’re not making friends, you’re giving them chances. It’s not your fault that the others had missed him initially. Your goal isn’t to kill as many people as possible, every single person that you come across. Your goal right now is to take out the career pack, which you can’t do immediately. It’ll take time to build up to.

Well, maybe you should have started a fight with three. It would have given you an opportunity to kill one of the others while you’re at it. Then the pack would be down to six, and it would continue to get slimmer. It’ll happen sooner or later, but you wonder when they’ll finally realize that it’s you, Finnick and Thyme till standing while it’s two or even one of the others.

All of them dying tragic deaths while they’re out with one of you. Trink dies to a knife thrown at her. Eytelle is drowned, Lennox is hung and Allio dies because of another tribute. Doesn’t have to be in that order, but could you imagine?

You’re hoping that the districts and the Capitol know of the plan that you’re forming. If they’ll switch who they’re betting on to one of you. Although, it is very popular for one of the outsider districts to be good, only for them to fail later on. The sponsors had learned their lesson after a while, getting on the poorer districts, only for the careers to win time after time again.

They’re basically wasting their money trying to aid someone that turns out to be a dud. You know that you’d be betting on the careers after that. Notice the pattern in which the careers win, and go from there. It really is all about potential. Their size, the district they come from, the number they get inside of the private session with the gamemakers. Who they’re posing as and all of that.

“Sun is setting already.” Thyme mutters, and you turn to see where it’s setting.

“Set up camp here?” Lennox proposed, but three comes to mind nad you turn to see Finnick thinking the same thing.

“Sure. I’ll take first watch.” You tell them, watching as Thyme sits right where she’s standing, and the others follow.

You're all sitting near a big tree, hidden by bushes slightly. If someone were to walk by, they likely wouldn’t see you. But watching as Trink throws in some wood and pine, she’s going to swans a fire. That will definitely let the others know where you are.

There’s seven of you, it won’t be that hard to kill you all at once. You know what to look out for, dark hair, blue eyes. You’re sure that Finnick will even stay awake to help you out with watching for him. The problem with that, is that you might allow three to kill one of the,, and then alert. While Finnick will alert immediately.

Actually, you really have no clue how he’ll react. He’s a different story, he’s got other things goes on inside of his head. He looked down at you when you spoke of your kills as if you were supposed to just stand there and let them kill you. He didn’t look that impressed with the waterfall idea.

Maybe he’s also realizing how useless the temporary romance was. That it was just getting the both of you attached to each other. Making it harder to kill…

You can’t help it when you go to glare at Finnick. If his entire ploy was to get you to like him and then use that against you, he’s going to have another thing coming. He thinks that you’ll hesitate when it comes to killing him, huh? Just because he’s from back home, doesn't mean that you’ll spare his life for your own.

Allio and Lennox get Finnick stuck in a conversation, giving Trink a perfect time to slide up next to you as you start the fire to cook the meat, “I saw the look you gave him.”

“And?” You ask, you’re really just hoping he didn’t see that. Two can play at that game. If he knows that you know, then it’ll be ruined. If he thinks that he can't get you to fall for him and not let it be the other way around, you have your own strategies.

“Nothing.” She crosses her legs, and you focus on the fire. It light a lot faster than it did inside of the training center, because you’re not for the dumb act anymore. She won’t know the difference anyway, she’ll be too focused on saving her own skin.

Thyme comes over to help you clean the body. It’s mostly silence, but being left alone to your own thought did torture. Thinking of what he did in the training center was all for show. Get you to soften up when it comes to him. He was probably just glad that you were the first to offer an alliance so it wouldn't look suspicious.

“How long do these alliances normally last?” You ask bitterly, Eytelle snorts.

“Couple of days. I give it until there’s five other tributes left in the arena with us,then we split.”

“So four more until we hit that point, huh?” You ask.

“We might keep you around.” Trink grins, “Eytelle and I are planning on hightailing it the fuck out of here the second there’s a sign of danger.”

“Sounds smart.” Thyme mutters.

“You’re invited, kid.” Eytelle says, and then she gets up to go to the guys. She kicks leaves all over Allio, before letting them know that if they want to eat, they better come over.

You all gather around the fire, thinking the second alliance over. There’s a lot going on at the moment. First is you and Finnick, second is you, Finnick and thyme. Third is the entire pack, and fourth is you, Eytelle, Trink and Thyme. Then there’s the really quiet ones, like three and the boy from district seven, Mac.

They’re not people you would rely on, but you I’d talk to all of them before the private session. Made a friend out of some of them. Then again, you did kill two of them. Boy from eleven and girl from ten. But that’s their own fault, they should have known better than to go into the middle, would have lasted a lot longer if they had just ran, all of them.

As you guys are trading food, drinking water and still talking, the anthem for the fallen begins to play. On the way to look to the sky, Finnick shares a look with Lennox. They have the same thing that you and the other girls have. Him, Allio and Lennox are gonna split when shit gets shaky.

Those in the sky are the people from the bloodbath. There were no other following deaths that you know of.

First on screen is the girl from three, boy from five, following is the boy from six. Cass from seven, boys from eight and nine. Then the girl from ten, and finally the boy from eleven.

“I’m surprised district twelve lasted this long.” Allio remarks, a couple of them laugh, including Finnick.

They’re quick to wrap up the night, not really wanting to go and hunt around. There will be plenty of time to do it tomorrow. And you promise to wake them up if anything happens. Like smoke from a fire or a part of the forest lights up.

You stomp out the fight and then sit against the tree, holding onto the little knife in your hand tightly. The others curl up next to each other, mainly Trink and Lennox.

Thyme sticks close to some bushes, probably for an easy escape. Allio and Eytelle are on opposite sides of the fire. And Finnick sits next to you.

You wish you could just ignore him and call it a night. But you’re going to give it away that you know.

“Why did you let him go?” Finnick asks after a while of silence, making sure that they’re asleep. He must have noticed the pattern in breathing just the same as you did.

“Didn’t see a point in killing him.”

“He’s smart, (Y/n). He’ll come back with a knife or something, you saw him in the training center—“

“Maybe he’ll spare my life later on, did you think about that?” You ask him, turning to look at Finnick, “he owes me. Because had we told them, you know that it wouldn’t have been a quick death.”

He takes this into consideration, and then speaks quietly, “And if he comes over here tonight?”

“I’ll wake you up.” You grab his jaw, making him look to you, “Promise.”

When you let go, he gives you a kiss. Then, you watch as he pulls out the sleeping bag, still staying right beside you. You place your hand on his back, and then you look to the woods.

You’ll keep him safe. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #finnick odair #lacuna chapter five #lacuna chapter six #lacuna chapter seven #lacuna chapter eight #lacuna

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fandom-hoarder · 4 years ago

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listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

#ask #@princessconsuelapark #stanford era #sam winchester #pre-stanford era #sam n dean #john winchester's a+ parenting #long post

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