#My sister and i were talking the other day about physical sensation in dreams like pain and taste | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shigarakis-fifth-hand · 4 years ago

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The "Better Half" ; A Poly KiriBaku x Reader Fanfic

Enjoy the series | one two three four five

You walked into the room, flustered from Kirishima, and excited to check out your name that was all over social media. You even had your own Facebook Fan Club Group. Quickly, your mom gave you juice and sat you down, wanting to talk about everything.

She sat by your side on the 2-person-couch, scrolling through fan art, fan group stuff, video footage, and such. I was already on famous birthdays, and had fan accounts on twitter.

You had gained thousands of people who had found and leaked your social media accounts, and had gotten hundreds of dms from classmates, teammates, and family friends. Everyone wanted a piece of the action.

“My baby!! With popularity like this, UA is bound to hear about you!! Gosh, my baby is going to go off and become the World’s Greatest Superhero!! The next All Might!” Inko excitedly fangirled over you, something rare in fact.

Over the years, with all your academic and physical accomplishments, the three of you had gotten so used to Inko ignoring you to give praise to Izuku, since he got none from others while you were practically worshipped for everything you did.

Yet now, as Izuku stared at you two from the kitchen, he saw how happy Inko truly was about you. How her eyes lit up, and her smile was bright. She was practically glowing. As a mother, this was how you were supposed to act.

But with Izuku, this never happened, no matter the act his mom put on. The highest grade he got was A-‘s, and never got all-A-honor-roll like you.

He never had won a science fair like you, entered a states-level championship like you, gotten 1st place at a swim meet, or been voted Class President every year in middle school.

Izuku realized now how much his mother truly wanted to celebrate everyone of your milestones. How she wanted to be that mom with the perfect child, and shout it to the world. The only reason she didn’t was because of Izuku’s feelings.

Because Izuku didn’t do anything remotely close to you. Izuku was the reason his mother couldn’t be happy with her perfect daughter. It was because Izuku was so useless that neither of you had ever become close to one another.

When Inko was finally done, she sent you up the stairs to bed, saying to get rest for your big day of training tomorrow. “Hey mom, is-“ Izuku poked his head out to talk, only to get interrupted by Inko.

“One second sweetie. Yuno’s mom Michi is calling me. She’s one of the cool moms!” Inko smiled, quickly bringing the phone to her ear and racing out of the room. Izuku sighed sadly before turning and going upstairs to you. He walked into your room and leaned against the doorway.

“Soooo… What did you do while you were out?” Izuku asked, grinning as you continued to text on your phone. You brought it away from your face, fake-thought, and shook your head.

“Just rode around for awhile. Why?” You asked, looking up at your brother. Izuku was taken back, surprised by your secrecy. Since birth, you two had told each other almost everything, but now… “Come on, I know something happened.”

Izuku began to walk over and sit on your bed when you looked up at him angrily. “Izuku, nothing happened! Stop being such a creep!” You harshly yelled, very annoyed by him prying. You did not want to talk to Izuku about boys, especially now.

Izuku stopped, shocked and hurt by your angry words. “I… okay then. Hey, I was thinking that maybe after school we could-“ He was interrupted by you looking up from your phone again, very agitated.

“I’m sorry, my schedule is packed tomorrow. I have training with my new coach and then I’m hanging out with a friend. Can it wait?” You asked as he felt his heart shatter, the wind being knocked out of him.

“Y-Yep.” Izuku whispered as he began to walk out. “Wait, Izuku!” You yelled, jumping up and running to him in the doorway. Izuku turned, happy to get your attention. Now would be when you would either apologize or want to reschedule plans for another time.

“Did you get my homework from Math and Science?” You asked, fidgeting with a pen while you stood there. “No, I’m sorry. I was just so shaken. up and I-“ You nudged Izuku angrily.

“Baka!! You were shook up? Gosh Izuku, I ruin my favorite relationship for you and you can’t even help me out?” You slammed the door in front of him and locked it. Izuku could hear you return to your bed, plop down, and eat another Pocky stick.

Snap! Crunch.

Izuku stood there, unable to believe what had just happened. Did you just… No. You were just having a mood swing again. It was no big deal… right?

Izuku stood there, listening to you talk to your friends on the phone. You giggled, laughed, and gossiped like normal. It was as if your twin brother hadn’t even gone to the hospital that day.

Izuku began to walk downstairs, only to hear his mother on the phone as well. Nobody cared, and nobody wanted to talk to him. Izuku began to waddle back to his bedroom and open his phone.

0 new messages. 0 new notifications. Just like usual, of course. Izuku began scrolling through the News, looking at all the articles about his sister, when a different article came up.

Teen suicide rate rises to all time high of 19%

Immediately, Izuku began sobbing as he brought a pillow to his face. Izuku had always had tendencies to not want to live, but had also always been scared of death. He had nothing to protect himself with after all.

He wanted to die, but the very thought of it scared him. About to fall asleep, Izuku heard a ping on his phone. How unusual… Izuku brought it to his face, happy to see it was a text from you. ‘Need 2 talk’.

Seconds later, you walked in silently and laid on the rug at his feet. “The first time… when I was attacked, ya know? I ran into the city and got lost. I was terrified. So, since I like high places, I climbed a rusty iron ladder up over 20 stories to the roof.”

You explained, closing your eyes and reimagining the breathtaking view.

“It was the red brick office building, the one with the faded Insurance logo on the front, and the rusty ladder on the right side. Gosh, you should have been there Izu. The wind was in my hair, and I was taller than the birds. I felt so connected to it…”

You trailed off, once again getting lost in your thoughts of the view.

“An-An-Anyways, back to what I was saying!! After I got attacked, I ran all over. And then I met All Might! H-He talked to me about becoming a hero, and then tonight, he offered to train me!!” You smiled at Izuku as he gave you his best fake-grin.

“I’m going to start training with him everyday until the UA entrance exam, and then I’ll get in!!” You jumped up excitedly as Izuku finally let his smile break apart. “But… what about Mom and I?” He asked you as your grin softened.

“Well, I know I’ll miss you, but I need to learn about going on my own. We’re going to be adults very soon, and I need to separate now. Plus, it’ll only be four years, and I’ll be living at home. We won’t be strangers.” You explained, but he wasn’t convinced.

“So… you really want to go to UA?” He asked, staring you right in the eye, hoping you’d deny. Izuku hoped more than anything that you would say no, and that you wouldn’t leave him. You wouldn’t abandon him, all alone while you pursue your dreams.

“Yes Izuku, I really do. I really think it’ll be good for me. I know you don’t think it’s good but I do.” You began to protest as Izuku stood up. “It might be good for you but what about us? What about you and me?!” Izuku cried out as you turned to him.

“To hell with that! I have dreams Izuku! My dream is to go to UA and become a hero! I was always going to do that with my life!” You fought back, growing defensive. “That was my dream too!” Izuku yelled as you suddenly realized what this was about.

“It’s not my fault you’re quirkless Izu.” You murmured as Izuku began crying. “It’s not my fault either! I don’t want this Ichiko! You can’t leave! You’re all I have!” Izuku began sobbing as you became cold. “Then find something else Izuku. We’re not children anymore.”

You stormed out, slamming your bedroom door behind you. Izuku stood there, frozen with emotion. How had a simple talk gone so bad? He just needed you to know how he felt. You just wanted to talk to him about the future.

Most importantly, you twol had argued. You two never argued. It just wasn’t like you to fight, especially in such a screaming sensation like that.

Izuku’s mind kept replaying the last sentence you had told him before storming out. ‘Then find something else Izuku.’ That had obviously been you telling him to stop being so attached to you.

You had said something about not being children anymore, and now that Izuku thought about it, it all made sense. The way you and Bakugo had become romantic, the way the childhood bullying had intensified, and the way you were slowly drifting away from him.

You were growing up, while Izuku was staying in his childhood. He was still pretending like he could become a hero with his stupid future notebook, and trying to exchange secrets like kids while you went on dates with boys and were training with All Might.

Deku just felt abandoned, sad, and lonely. The people he had put his love in had left him sad and heartbroken. He shut his door and covered himself in blankets, trying to fall asleep when he got visions.

“It was the red brick office building, the one with the faded Insurance logo on the front, and the rusty ladder on the right side.” Izuku got up, frazzled and horrified. Why… Why did he remember those words specifically?

Down the road from the town square, just look for it. Oh god, Izuku had to get out and get some air. He needed to get these horrible thoughts out of his head. He quickly got up, put on his sandals, and ran out.

“I need to get some air Mom!” He yelled at her, but as he looked back to the living room, he saw her sitting at the table, talking away on the phone. Nobody will even notice… Nobody will ever care if I’m gone.

The night passed when you woke up to your alarm clock, like every other day. This day was different, in fact, today was exciting. Over 1000 notifications shown on your phone, you had your first training session with All Might, and tonight, you would get to see Kirishima. You were ecstatic to say the least.

You put on a new uniform that wasn’t coated in slime, brushed your curls, and did your light makeup of mascara, blush, and tinted chapstick. You quickly ran downstairs, bag in hand, to see your tired brother sitting on the couch.

You grabbed him and yourself a protein bar and ran out, waving to your mom. On the walk there, Izuku seemed tired and sluggish, as if he hadn’t slept well. You choose not to ask, not wanting him to grow anymore agitated after your fight the night before.

So you didn’t talk, simply walking the short 3 minute stroll to the gates of your junior high. As soon as you walked through the gates, you were bombarded with your friends, and other classmates crowding around you. In the mix of it, Izuku disappeared from your side.

The topics varied, from your best friends wanting to talk about Bakugou and your safety from the attack, to your admirers wanting to talk about how you defeated a villain, and then of course how it was to meet All Might. Behind a corner, you could see Bakugo glaring at you, watching.

You almost lost your voice throughout the day, talking up a storm with everyone who wanted to talk to you. You were a hero, popular in the media, and someone who radiated girl-power after yelling at Bakugou, the most feared student in the school.

Off in the corner of your eye, you saw Bakugo in the lunch line, ignoring his “friends” and staring off at you once again. Did he feel sorry? Did he miss you? Had he heard about everything? This had been the longest you had gone far without talking.

Lunch time was the first time you got some peace to yourself. You sat at the table with 10 of your good friends, finally able to talk about something good. Bakugo would have been there, but like usual, he was serving detention in the office.

You began eating your bento when Izuku came around the corner from a hallway. “Hey Ichiko, I’m not feeling well. I think I'm going to go home for the day.” You gave him a confused look as he smiled, as if trying to hide something.

“I’m just so tired, and shook up.” You nodded, understanding as Izuku went to leave, but turned back to you. “Just know that whatever happens isn’t your fault. I love you Ichi.” He waved and left, not giving you time to speak. Weird...

Your friends quickly joined you, and you were finally able to go back to normal conversation about teachers, boys, and of course your friend’s drama with their boyfriends or girlfriends. Life was simple, but unfortunately, lunch ended as soon as it started.

You began walking in the hall with one of your friends, going to class, when she began talking about boys. “Kano and I tried but we just didn’t work out. And then Hikaru, the one I told you about with the longer hair, told me that he has a boyfriend which just makes no sense. Like, he’s gay??”

You laughed at your friend's story as you began walking to class. “What about you? Now that Bakugo is out of the picture, who do you have your eye on?” She asked as you giggled, instantly being reminded of Kiri.

“Well, there’s this-“ Before you could say his name, Bakugo slammed the door from the detention room in front of you. “I fucking knew it! Who is it?! Who the fuck has black hair and it still just soooo attractive?!” He screamed, earning everyone’s attention.

“You like him enough to kiss him on the cheek! Huh?! Who the fuck is it?! I swear I’ll rip them to pieces!” Bakugo screamed as you looked at him, unable to comprehend how he knew about Kiri.

“How do you- You’re such a stalker! Were you following me last night?” You asked as Bakugo’s eyes widened. “Tell me who it is!” He screamed as you shook your head. “No! Stay away from me you creep!” You felt your friend put her arm around you and walk you away from him.

Bakugo sighed angrily, watching you walk away without him. With all the eyes in the hallway on him, he stormed off to his next class. You couldn’t help but feel confused. Was he jealous? Was he hurt? Why did you care so much? You missed him…

You walked through the rest of your classes, all eyes on you after being called out for having a mysterious guy friend. It felt strange and weird, yet at the same time you couldn’t wait to see Kiri tonight.

When you walked into your final class, a sense of emotion walked over you. The last day of junior high before high school… it felt so surreal and fake at the same time. You were excited for the future, but scared.

You gave flowers to your favorite teachers, hugged all your friends and classmates, and took many photos. You were just so excited and sad, it was very bittersweet to leave a place you had gone every day for 3 years.

The worst part was the memories. Here, you have become your own person. You had found your own style, your own clique of friends, and your identity. Here, you had realized that you would become a hero.

Yet again, everyday here had been spent with Katsuki by your side. Six school dances, three school festivals, 4 class field trips, and many times when you would hang out behind the school together.

Finally, the day was over, and you were able to walk out into your first second of Summer. Of course, all the thoughts of relaxation were interrupted by a friendly blonde man by the entrance.

You were walking out with your friends when one of them looked at something behind you. “Ichi… Do you know that man?” He asked as you turned to see All Might in his weak form, smiling and waving ecstatically.

You smiled, relieved, and nodded. “Yep, that’s my… uncle. Anyways, I’ll call you guys later. We have training to do.” You explained as a girl to your left smiled. “Ahh yes, you are a hero in the making according to Channel 5 News after all.”

You waved to your group before running over to All Might who leaned against the school gate. “Young Ichiko, you’re looking well after last night.” He grinned warmly as you nodded. “Yea, I’ve had a pretty… eventful day.” You smiled back as you began walking.

He explained to you how he would train you to the max in hopes of making you as powerful as possible for the entrance exam, and would even train you past that until you succeeded him. He also told you about how he was going to be a UA teacher, and would keep a close eye on you always.

You two walked to the quiet beach, and began. He made you move rocks with him standing on it, threw things at you with speed and made you stop them, and of course made you go underwater and control the oxygen to keep you from getting wet.

It was hard, eventful, and left you dramatically breathing, almost gasping for air. And yet, after, you weren’t done. He made you throw rocks into the air and sent them as far as possible. He made you manipulate the ground, and use it to make you faster.

You also began running miles on the road, All Might flying above you to shout empty commands and uplifting remarks. It was all hard, and you were so tired, but you would do anything to become a hero like him.

Finally, when it was over three hours after school, you fell to your knees, feeling your heartbeat in your eyes and like you were about to throw up. “Well, I guess we can stop here. That was a very good first day, I'm excited to see how you improve tomorrow.”

He grinned, sitting on a rock nearby. All Might stood and helped you back to your feet. “You look just pitiful. Come now, let me buy you some food.” All Might held onto your arm to keep you up as you both began to walk to a nearby café in town.

He bought you a sandwich and a smoothie, tipping the cashier a 20$ bill. Being the 1# hero in the world had its perks financially of course, and All Might was rolling in the dough.

You two walked to a park bench, and sat down happily. You had a lot of fun with All Might, and he enjoyed his time with you. He likes hearing about your life, and your crazy stories. He liked it when you talked about your friends, and your brother.

You were just talking about the one time your friend and you jumped off waterfalls in Hawaii and then had to run from a water snake when you got a text message from Izuku. Your face froze, and your heart rate accelerated.

“Young Ichiko, are you alright?” All Might asked, noticing your happy demeanor turn dark. You stared at your phone as you began shaking. “Oh god, Ichiko?! Are you hurt?” All Might asked as he turned to look at your phone screen. “Oh dear.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Tell mom I love her.”

“Goodbye.”

Instantly, you quickly went to your tracking app that you had with Izuku and your mom, and looked at Izuku’s location. “He’s… just down the street from the town square. In the Kyoko Insurance Firm?” All Might asked, confused and worried like you. “No… he’s on the building I told him about.”

You jumped up and turned to All Might. “Can you fly?” You asked him as she shook his head. “I used up all my time for the day.” He explained as you began running into town.

“I just have to run.” You sighed and began running into town, ignoring the burning in your legs and keeping your eyes on your phone. Through the town square, deep into two alleyways, and then down the street. You could already see a small group forming at the base of the building, looking up.

You threw yourself onto the ladder and climbed as fast as possible to the top. It only took a minute before you were staring at your brother who stood on the edge. “You shouldn’t have come here Ichi. I already said goodbye.”

You began to step forward as he turned around to face you. “Izuku, don’t do this. I promise you, you don’t want to kill yourself.” You pleaded as he stared bullets. “My life is useless Ichiko. I’m not athletic. I’m not smart. I’m not powerful.”

You began crying, shaking your head as you heard All Might come up behind you. “Izuku, if you jump off this building I’ll jump too.” You threatened as he shook his head and laughed. “No you won’t. You’re not stupid. Your life is meaningful. You have a bright future Ichiko.”

The tears kept coming as you shook your head, pleading with him. “Izuku, how can I live the life we dreamed of without you?” You asked as he smiled warmly. “Live life to the fullest, and have no regrets. Live it for the both of us.” Before you could speak, Izuku leaned back off the building.

Like time was slowing down, you ran as fast as you could towards the edge of the building and reached for his hand. The look in his face showed peace as he closed his eyes. You let your arm reach for his, but we’re unable to reach.

As All Might watched this, he felt a rush in his blood as he grew to his hero-form and ran to you. Flying off the building, he was able to use his last ounce of energy to reach his hand around your waist and keep both him and you in the air.

Unfortunately for them both, it gave you a front row seat as you watched her twin brother fall to his death. You cupped your hands around your mouth, your eyes glued to his limp body that laid on the sidewalk.

Screams of horror and worry could be heard below as everyone ran to Izuku. Slowly, All Might lowered you to the sidewalk in the middle of the group. Instantly, you all were recognized. You dropped to your knees, unable to speak or move.

You lightly poked his arm, begging for a response. “I-Izu?” You gasped as blood began to fill uniform shirt. “No! Someone call an ambulance! Somebody, please!” You screamed as loud as you could, fighting against All Might who began to hold you back.

“Young Ichiko, there’s no use.” He whispered as you shook your head, trying your best to fight your way out of his grip. “No! No! He’s not dead! I need to help him, let me go!”

All Might finally twisted you around to face him and spoke to you. “He’s dead Ichiko! He’s dead, and I’m so sorry.” You began crying as you hugged him tightly. “Come now, let’s get you home. You shouldn’t have to see this.”

All Might began flying you home in his hero form, finally reaching your driveway. You could see that by then, your mother had run out, even leaving the door open on her way to the car.

With the sun setting in the background, All Might sat you on the front porch with him, and let you two sit in silence. Just as All Might was about to say something, dozens of cars pulled up to the street in front, allowing camera men and reporters to spill out.

Obviously, you should have known that the 1# hero and a media sensation in the same place would bring attention.

“Miss Midoryia, is it true that you witnessed your brother’s suicide?” One asked, not passing the curb to the house but filming you two. “All Might, how do you feel about not being able to save her brother?” Another man asked, trying to get his microphone as close to them as possible.

“I’ll get them out, do not-“ All Might was interrupted by someone rushing through the crowd. “Ichiko?! Ichiko?! Oh my god!” Kirishima pushed through the crowd and ran to you in a hurry. “Are you okay? Why are all these people here? Oh… All Might?”

When he and All Might made eye contact, All Might smiled warmly at you. “I can tell you’re in good hands. I’m going to get these reporters away from here. See you later Young Ichiko.”

He patted your head and smiled sadly before flying off. Sure enough, more than half the cars followed along. “Shh…Shh.” Kirishima wipes the tears from under your eyes lovingly.

He brought a blanket from your living room and held your hand. “I’m supposing you saw.” You whispered weakly, your voice shaking harshly as Kirishima nodded slowly. “Y-Yea. Oh Ichiko, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around you as you cuddled on the outdoor porch swing.

“You want to go inside?” Kirishima asked as you shook your head. “I can’t. It reminds me of him too much.” You explained as he sadly held you in his arms. You watched the sun set over the hills, and cuddled deeper into Kirishima.

It was until it grew dark, and you got a call from Mitsuki. Kirishima picked it up and held it to your ear. “Hey Baby. Your mom and I are going to be out for a while, but your mom ordered something pizza for the house for you to eat while we’re gone.”

Mitsuki explained as you nodded. “Okay. W-Wait, can you ask Mom if I can have a friend spend the night?” You asked as Kirishima’s eyes lit up. “She’s not here right now, but I’ll give you permission. It’s not safe for you to be alone right now sweetie.”

And with that, Mitsuki hung up. “D-Do you want to go inside?” Kirishima asked nervously with a blush, noticing you shivering. You nodded, and without even trying, Kirishima picked you up bridal style and brought you inside.

He sat you on the bar stool, and got you a glass of water from the kitchen. You smiled in a comfortable silence as small tears kept streaming down your face. “D-Do you want a tour?” You tried to smile as Kirishima leaned against the counter. “Of course.”

You got up and grabbed onto his arm as you walked around. “This is the kitchen, and living room. That small room over there is the plant room where all the sunlight is.” You showed him the smaller room with a music speaker and lots of windows.

Upstairs, you began to walk down the hallway. “Here’s my mom’s room, here’s the bathroom, here’s…” You turned to look into the All Might filled, grey room with a welcome sign on the front of the door.

Just thinking of it, you remembered just that morning when you had gone to talk to him. You had told him about your plans for UA, and he had gotten upset. He had been fearful about you two leaving each other. Did that have anything to do with him killing himself?

Seeing you were about to cry, Kirishima put his arm around your waist and pulled you close. You snapped out of it and began walking again. “This is the bathroom. You can shower whenever.” You both blushed as you got to your bedroom.

“Here’s my room.” You began to walk in, causing him to follow you. Your room was a large light painted room with a queen bed next to your huge window with a desk, a full-body mirror, and led lights. You had a big closet, and you had a lot of plants all around.

“Super cute.” Kirishima looked around your room before peering out the window. “There’s… a big tree right there.” He commented as you turned and smiled at him. “Good t know.” He played it off like it was nothing but you knew what he was talking about.

You sat on the bed together, resting your head on his shoulder. “It hurts…” You whispered, feeling the tears building up again. Everything you looked at seemed to remind you of him again and again.

“I know. And it will for a while, but it’s going to be okay. Things have a way of having a good ending, even if it’s bittersweet.” Kirishima tried his best to make you feel better, and in some way, it worked.

You grabbed a blanket and threw it over you two before laying back onto the bed. Kirishima slowly followed, embarrassed yet wanting to lay down with you. You cuddled against him with his back to the window, facing him and cuddling against him.

You two decided to turn on the tv in your room and give the airless tension with background noise. He wiped your tears, told you funny stories, and made you feel better. He was good at comforting you when you felt at your worst moment.

From the street, Katsuki stared up at the window as he sat on the street curb. He had tried to come by early when the driveway had been filled with reporters, but yet again, the black-haired douche was right there with you.

Now, he had tried to come check on you, cake in hand, when he saw you cuddling with Mr.-I-have-long-black-shiny-hair. Not only that, but in bed. At night. WITHOUT INKO THERE. Katsuki refused to be replaced for his girl by some extra.

Comment if you liked it!!

@drbumpkin @bleachbetch @toobsessedsstuff @turtle-deku @1madxson1 @badb1hh @lilacskyura @thesuitelifeofafangirl

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

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Chapter Three

Hiiii, all you cool cats and kittens 😂😂😂😂. Okay but seriously, imma just word vomit all the things I need to cover in this author’s note — that I can remember.

I’ve been writing this chapter for like a week, I’m super nervous about it, I’m really sorry if this angst is upsetting you, I am gonna do my best to make it all right in the end, the angst is gonna continue though for a bit longer, yes this fic is only 10 chapters, yes I still want your comments even if you’re upset, my eye is still having trouble so I can’t look at a computer screen for too long because it physically hurts so I’m editing on my phone and there is a high chance I’ll re-edit these chapters after my eye isn’t all Heltor Skeltor anymore.

Okay I think that’s everything, I very much am gratefully for all the feedback I’ve received and I hope you all continue to read this fic.

Peeta stayed for hours after that. He smiled and laughed and, for a while, made me forget all about my unbearable loneliness, how empty this home feels, how uncomfortable I am with the prospect of my mother moving on with her life, how much I really miss my sister right now.

How I miss my sister more than anything.

He still makes me feel safe, I realized, as we sat on the couch and ate our third helping of the chocolate cake he’d baked for me. He knows how much I love chocolate from all the meals we shared on the train.

“Actually, from the time you decided to just eat the chocolate fountain by itself,” he had corrected. Off my quizzical look, he added, “At Snow mansion? We were there for a party?”

“Our engagement party?” I amended, teasing him a little.

My attempt at levity works as I watch his mouth contort into smirk in response. “Sorry, I guess I forgot what party it was.”

“They did drag us to a lot of them,” I agreed, not foreseeing the jab he was about to throw.

“And you pigged out at every one of them.”

I pretended to be offended for a moment but his proud laughter made me lose the facade far sooner than I should have. The joyful glint to his gaze, the way his body language was relaxed and open, the way he seemed to remember small details of our shared past now, I just couldn’t hold even a false grudge against him. I just couldn’t help giggling alongside him.

But he had to leave around dinner time, having an appointment to get the construction for the new rebuilt bakery approved and in motion.

As soon as he departs, and I’m left once again inside a void, hallow house that only emphasizes the greatest loss of my life—the one I’ll probably never go a single day without feeling the ache of—I decide I need to leave too. I decide as soon as I glance around the empty place that it’d be in my best interest to get out as well, to prolong the inevitable despair the deserted home brings come nightfall.

My first thought is to drop off the liquor I picked up for Haymitch a few days ago at the train station. He was passed out drunk and I was already there and it seemed at the time like a good bargaining chip when he was feeling particularly caustic towards me. Which lately had been often.

Now it just poses a good excuse to go talk to the sour man, to perhaps pick his brain about Bailey Robyn. To perhaps see what he knows that I don’t about the mysterious girl who blew into both our lives.

And only evidently disturbed one of them.

He has clearly has gotten to know her better than I have, and he’s quite transparently taken quite a liking to her. If I want to know this girl, or even begin to understand what Peeta sees in her, it only makes sense to get Haymitch to share some details in exchange for his favorite liquor.

After all, our entire relationship has always been a series of bargains, one way or another.

Throughout mine and Peeta’s entire time together—which amounted to the whole afternoon—he had never once mentioned Bailey. He hadn’t said she was waiting for him or what she thought about the cake or if she even knew he would be at my house today.

And for some reason that led me to assume she was busy in town somewhere. That she was working on the salon she mentioned wanting to start up, that she was out doing things herself, that she wasn’t even concerned with Peeta celebrating my birthday today.

That she wasn’t sitting on Haymitch’s counter, talking to him about that very subject.

“It just doesn’t make me feel great, you know?” Her clear and high voice rings out from the window right as I’m gearing up to barge my way inside the pig sty. “I want to go with him, in case he has an episode or something, and he tells me no. Like flat out, full stop, no.”

I slip in through the unlocked front door, quiet as a mouse, eavesdropping like I know I shouldn’t. Like I know is a complete violation of privacy, both for Bailey and for Haymitch. And maybe even Peeta, since he’s the one they’re conferring about.

“He’s stubborn,” Haymitch agrees, sounding more sober than I’ve heard him in months. Sounding more sober than I’ve seen since we were in Thirteen. “Try mentoring him in the games.”

Bailey scoffs at that. “No. You couldn’t pay me enough.”

They share a laugh and I feel my hands tighten around the bottle, as an extremely uncomfortable sensation settles into the pit of my stomach.

They sound like old friends. They sound happy and pleased to be hanging out and conversing. And if I’m being honest, it gives me one more reason to instinctively dislike Bailey, despite the fact that I’m trying hard not to.

Because in the short time she’s been in Twelve, she’s slid into my place in both Peeta and Haymitch’s lives with complete and utter ease. Even beyond taking my place, she’s outrankedme in both men’s lives and entirely knocked me out of the saddle.

That’s what disturbs me above all else. Because—even though I’d never admit it about Haymitch—they were mine. They were my family. They were all I had. They were my haven from the darkness surrounding my entire life. The three of us were a team once.

And now it feels like she didn’t join the group, she kicked me out of it entirely. Haymitch has never had me sit on the counter of his kitchen—not that I really wanted to, the place is absolutely filthy—and talk about my problems. He’s always mocked my feelings and troubles, when they didn’t pertain to the war or rebellion.

I don’t get what is so special about this girl that the two most important people in my life are willing to just let her in. Are just willing to let her take me out without a second thought.

“I mean, is it odd that I wanted to be included?” She inquires genuinely and to my surprise, once again, my old mentor gives her a pretty thoughtful answer. For Haymitch Abernathy, at least.

“They’re both a little weird. War messes with people. Especially kids,” he murmurs and then grunts uncomfortably. “Don’t get worked up over nothing. Just let whatever happened go and try to be happy.”

For some reason, even without hearing my name mention specifically, I’m fully convinced that they’re conversing about me as well as Peeta. About our afternoon together, void from Bailey’s presence. Without hearing my own name, I still know in my bones I walked in on a talk about me.

Bailey wanted to come today and Peeta told her no? Peeta told her an unequivocal no? Because he wanted to spend time with just me?

That satisfies me beyond measure. That makes me even happier than the carefully handcrafted birthday cake did.

Suddenly, for the first time since she’s arrived in Twelve, I don’t feel like Peeta put me on the back burner to make her more comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m being slided so she can be accommodated to her liking. And that’s a better present to me than anything else I could have asked for.

“But I’m his girlfriend,” she states quietly, before sighing deeply and setting down a glass that she must have been drinking from. Risk-taker, she is. “And I just feel like every day all he thinks about is Katniss. He’s either worried about her or afraid of her.”

Now that catches me completely off-guard. Peeta’s afraid of me? Is he telling Bailey something I don’t know? What did I do that he’s so afraid of?

Please, I internally beg to no one. Please tell me he doesn’t still think of me as a mutt. Please tell me he doesn’t feel the same way about as he did in Thirteen.

No, I venomously refute. That wouldn’t make sense. If he still thought of me that way—the way Snow tried to brainwash him into—he would surely not be baking me a cake and spending an afternoon alone with me.

At least, I don’t think so.

But I’m always wrong nowadays and I long ago learned to stop trusting my instincts because they don’t any good for me in the end anyway and I just end up more jumbled and confused and stressed than I started out.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down just as Haymitch mutters, “That description isn’t a far cry from the kid I met two years ago on the tribute train.”

Evidently, I breathed out too loudly almost immediately, Haymitch barks out, “Is that you, girl?”

Realizing I’m caught, I rip off the bandaid and step out of the corner of the entryway, where I was hiding. “Sorry, I just got here,” I quickly explain. And then, despite my atrocious acting ability, I throw out for good measure, “I didn’t hear anything you guys said, I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

Neither of them believe me. In fact, they both appear pretty disgusted with me now. But when I pass Haymitch the bottle of liquor, his features shift and I feel him lightly pat me on the head as he passes me to grab a bottle opener.

“Haymitch,” Bailey murmurs unceremoniously, as she hops off the counter with a grace I have no dream of ever possessing. “I’m going to head on home.”

Her eyes meet mine for a split second before flirting away, and all I see there is irritation.

I hope she doesn’t try again to make nice in a day or so. Quite frankly, there’s a reason I never made many friends. Social interactions aren’t my thing and they just wear me out unnecessarily. Especially girls, who only want to gossip about other people or share clothes or irrelevant life tips. I’d much rather be left alone in solitude than have to yo-yo with Bailey’s mood swings.

Haymitch has always empathized with this trait of mine. More than empathized. He embodied it to the fullest, in a way I never even have. That’s what makes it so startling to me that he’s found such a friend with Peeta’s new girlfriend. It’s downright shocking how pleasant he is towards her.

When he returns now, she’s already gone and he’s right back to his surly self.

“No one clears a room like you do, sweetheart.”

But I’m not interested in swiping back and forth with one another. “Why are you hanging out with Bailey Robyn?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at his still unwashed kitchen table.

I mean, if Bailey wanted to help clean in here, that’s where I would have suggested to start.

“The better question, Katniss, is why are youhanging out with Peeta alone? How do you think that makes his girlfriend feel?”

“He’s my friend,” I argue, infuriated by the implication that I have to go through a random stranger to be around Peeta now. Infuriated that it’s Haymitch making the implication nonetheless.

“But he isn’t!” The old man snaps back. “Peeta isn’t your friend, Katniss. You look at him like he hung the moon and you do it right in front of his new girl.”

“No, I don’t,” I retort sharply, because I definitely don’tand I repel the accusation.

“Anyone with eyes can see your stupid little crush,” he exclaims and it stings. The words sting for some reason and I feel the ache in my chest come back once again, because apparently I’m stepping over a line I didn’t even know was there and I’m once again the root of every problem and it’s all becoming too much.

Evidently, Haymitch just doesn’t care if he hurts me today. “Just back off of the boy. Let him be happy for once.”

I uncharacteristically spit an unkind name at Haymitch as I slam his door in my furious wake.

Through his still open kitchen window though, I hear him chuckle. “Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before, sweetheart.”

Read More On AO3 Where The Italics Actually Work

#everlark #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #my writing #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨#fic #fanfic #creative writing #idk what else to tag

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thedanceronthestreets · 4 years ago

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PEDRO PASCAL GQ GERMANY - OCTOBER 2020

Original text by Esma Annemon Dil

Fotos by Doug Inglish

Styling by Simon Robins

Translated by @thedanceronthestreets

Intro: A broken tooth could almost have been the reason for our meeting with Pedro Pascal to be cancelled - and with that our conversation about roots, his new movie and times of change.

Interview: It is almost eery how empty the streets of Los Angeles are under the gleaming sun. While Europe is finding its "new normal", people in L. A. are cutting their own hair even without being neurotics. Many of them have not seen their friends in half a year. The pandemic is out of control. So are the reactions to the situation. Inviting someone to a "distance drink" in the backyard can lead to the same consternation as proposing a relationship partner exchange.

All the more of a surprise was Pedro Pascal's immediate confirmation. To the drink, not the partner exchange. He is one of the winners this year - and if Corona had not forced the movie industry to go on a holiday, he probably would not have had the time for this drink. After "Game of Thrones", the series in which his head was squished, followed 2015 the leading role in "Narcos" as a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar, and now the leap onto the big Hollywood screen. As of 1. October the Chilean will appear in the blockbuster "Wonder Woman 1984". Furthermore, the second season of the "Star Wars" series "The Mandalorian" will start in October with him as the main character - unfortunately underneath the helmet. But we all seem to be under the same helmet in 2020. It is this man we want to meet, who worked as a waiter in New York a couple of years ago. Whose parents are political refugees that settled in Texas, and one day their son decided to walk into a drama club in high school.

And then the cancellation. While we were preparing the house and garden for Pedro's drink and fashion shoot, which isn't an easy task under L. A.'s restrictions, his management called in with terrible news: Pedro has - no, not Corona - had to receive emergency surgery due to a sore tooth and is now lying in bed with a swollen cheek, making talking or shooting impossible. The sun shines onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later, he stands in front of the door anyway, no huge bulge in his face, but stitches in his gum. No limousine service that dropped him off, he arrived in his own car and picked up his makeup artist on the way. He helps her to carry in all the equipment and states first and foremost: "I've got time today!" What a star! It does not seem like we are about to ask him how he managed to become a Hollywood sensation, but rather him asking us that question. Pedro Pascal! So, what kind of star is he then?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for ruining your plans. The operation was a total emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling was the result of a secret trip to the plastic surgeon. Apparently, because of the quarantine in Hollywood, their schedules are packed.

Sorry to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I raced to the hospital with a tooth fracture and the worst pain I've ever felt - a hospital where the severe Corona cases are treated. I was unable to contact any dentists! Right before I parked, a specialist called back. I'll spare you the details of the surgery, gruesome. The pain was excruciating despite the 10 anaesthetic shots. The doctor said I wasn't the only one going through this, a lot of people grind their teeth at night thanks to stress.

What are you most afraid of at the moment?

The way the government is handling the pandemic scares me more than the virus itself. The lack of intelligent crisis management is a moral disgrace. The leadership crisis makes orphans out of all of us - we're left to fend for ourselves.

How have you spent the last few months?

With frozen pizza in jogging trousers in Venice Beach. I live in a rear building that's in the garden belonging to a family. In reality there are enough good takeout restaurants around that area, but for some reason I like salami pizza from the supermarket.

That doesn't exactly sound like the movie star lifestyle. What does it feel like to be forced from top speed to zero?

Considering the things happening in this world, my own state really isn't the top priority. But I would have to lie, if I said I wasn't disappointed. The entire cast and crew of "Wonder Woman 1984" put so much heart and soul into the production. We had so much fun on set. I had hoped to carry this feeling of exuberance around the globe to the openings of this movie.

You are part of a political, socialist family that fled the Pinochet regime in Chile. What do you remember from back then?

My sister and I were born in Chile, but I was only nine months old when we claimed asylum in Denmark. From there, we moved to San Antonio in Texas, where my dad worked as a doctor in a hospital.

Texas isn't exactly considered to be socialist utopia. How well did you settle in?

San Antonio isn't a cowboy city but rather very diverse with large Asian, Afro-American and Latino communities. In my memory it's a romantic place, culturally inclusive. The cultural shock only hit when we moved to Orange County in California later. Suddenly, the environment was white, preppy and conservative.

How were you welcomed in California?

To this day I'm ashamed when I think about how I let my classmates call me Peter without correcting them. I'm Pedro. Even without growing up in Chile, the country and language are part of me. I was quite unhappy in that place. At least I was able to switch schools and visit one in Long Beach, where I felt more comfortable. With its theatre programme, I found my path.

Could you visit your family's homeland as a child?

Yes, after my parents ended up on a list of expats that were permitted to re-enter the country. First, there was a big family gathering, then me and my sister were parked at some relatives' place for a few months while my parents returned to Texas. They probably needed a break from us. They'd had us at a very young age, had a vibrant social life, and my mother was doing her doctorate in psychology.

Was your mother a typical young psychologist that tested her knowledge at home?

You mean whether I was her lab rat? Absolutely. I can remember weird sessions camouflaged as games, where someone would watch my reactions to different toys. Even though I couldn't have been older than 6, I knew what was happening. My favourite thing was to be asked about my dreams. That was always a great opportunity to make up fantastic stories.

Was that your first performance?

Definitely! My strong imagination alarmed my mother, because I'd rather live in my fantasy world than in real life. I didn't like school. I ended up in the "problematic kid" category. At some point the subjects got more interesting and my grades improved. So many children are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be daunting. Why is it acceptable to be bored out of your mind in class, when there are more stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

With everything happening in the world this summer: Do you believe that social hierarchy structures are genuinely being reconsidered?

Hopefully. After the lockdown my first contact with people was at the Black Lives Matter protest. The atmosphere was peaceful and hopeful until the police got involved and provoked violence. At least during these times we can't avoid problems or distract ourselves from them as easily as we usually do. It seems that the pandemic provided us with a new sense of clarity: we don't want to go on like this.

The trailer of "Wonder Woman 1984" represents the optimism of the 80s. That almost makes one feel nostalgic nowadays.

That holds true. It's two hours of happiness. Patty Jenkins, the director, managed to make a movie full of positive messages. We shot in Washington, D. C., then in London and Spain - which now sounds like a different time.

Do you miss travelling?

I've only now realised what a privilege it is to just pack up your things and fly anywhere. With an American passport you can travel freely. And that's why the small radius we live in now is kind of absurd. Over the last few years I often retreated in between takes, because I was always on the road and overstimulated. Friends complained about how comfortable I had become. We all took social interactions for granted and realise now how reliant we are on human connection. Now, I wistfully think about all the party and dinner invitations I declined in the past.

In L. A., people spend more time indoors or in nature than in other metropolises. Could this city become your safe haven after New York City?

My true home is my friends. Ever since I was young I've lived the life of a nomad and haven't set roots anywhere. Until recently, my physical home was a place for arriving and leaving and hence I didn't want to overcomplicate living by owning lots of things. The opposite actually: Without having read Marie Kondo's book, I got rid of all the stuff that was unnecessary and lived a very minimalistic lifestyle.

Is there something you collect or could never say goodbye to?

Books! I still own the literature I read during my teen and university years. Recently I found a box of old theatre scripts and materials back from my uni days at NYU. I can't separate from art either, same as lamps or old pictures. Furniture and clothes are no problem though, they can be chucked.

Do you remember any roles that were defined by their costumes?

Yes, "Game of Thrones" comes to mind immediately. During that time I first understood what it means, as an actor, to be supported by a look. I owe that to costume designer Michele Clapton. She developed these very feminine robes and brocade cloaks for my role that looked very masculine when I wore them. I felt sexy in them. And very important were of course Lindy Hemming's power suits and Jan Sewell's blond hair for the tycoon villain Maxwell Lord in "Wonder Woman 1984". Relating to the style, I couldn't really see myself in the role since the shapes and colours of the 80s don't really fit my body. My type is the 70s.

Do you adopt such inspirations into your private closet?

At this point in time, I'll choose any comfortable outfit over a cool look. Sometimes I mourn the days when I defined myself with fashion. It's a bit mad when I think about how, in the 90s as a teenager, I would go to raves; a proper club kid with crazy outfits: overalls, chute trousers, soccer shirts and a top hat like in "The cat in the hat knows a lot about that!" by Dr Seuss. Later in NYC I was part of a group that placed immense value on wearing a certain style. The fact that I only walk around in joggers nowadays is actually unacceptable!

Normally, actors who work on comic screen adaptations become bodybuilders and eat ten boiled chicken breasts per day. You don't?

My body wouldn't be able to handle that. I find it difficult enough to maintain a minimum level of fitness. As of your mid 40s, you suddenly need a lot more discipline. Until the tooth incident happened, I worked out a couple of times a week with a trainer to keep the quarantine body in shape.

What would annoy you the most, if you were your own roommate?

I can be very bossy. I have to gather all my goodwill not to force my movie choice on to everyone else. When I want something, I'm not passive aggressive about it, I attack head on. Also, I can get caught up in tunnel vision: When i feel down, I can't imagine that I'm ever going to feel better again. I have difficulty with seeing the bigger picture when experiencing problems or emotions. Method acting really wouldn't be my thing. That's why I try to only work on projects that feel good and where people encourage and lift each other up.

While you were trying on the outfits you pointed out a lack of self-esteem. How does that coincide with your career?

Isn't it interesting how traits and circumstances go hand in hand? Self-esteem comes from the inside, but it's also influenced by what society believes. We use critical stares from the outside against ourselves. I lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and worked as a waiter up until my mid 30s, because I couldn't live off acting. It was always so close. The disappointment of always just barely missing a perfect part or opportunity is exhausting. When is the right time to stop trying and what's plan b? That's not just a question actors ask themselves, but anybody who struggles to earn a livelihood - unrelated to how much potential they have or how close their dream may seem. We are beginning to see now how our narrow definition of success is destroying our communities. At the same time, it's becoming obvious that, until this day, your family background and skin colour determine your chances of living a dignified existence.

What are the positives of becoming a leading man later in life?

I have the feeling that I've got control over my life - without the pressure of having to accept projects or be a social media personality. That surely also has to do with the fact that I'm a man. Women are surely pressured to appear quirky at any age.

Life is always a management of risks - especially at this time. For what would you risk losing something?

Usually, if you don't play the game you're not going to win anything. That applies to friendship, love, work, creativity. Anything that really means something to me, is worth the risk.

Wonder woman 1984 will appear in cinemas 01.10. The 800 million dollar earning DC comic franchise is moving into the New York 80s with its sequel. It looks spectacular - only Pedro Pascal with blond hair in a three piece Wall Street suit looks better.

#pedro pascal #gq germany #Gq

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 4 years ago

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Summer Nights: Part 2

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Overweight/Plus size Female identifying Reader

Series: Summer Nights

Warning: Fred’s death, the series will mention issues such as guilt, grief, etc. + Chapter specific warnings: physical attraction, gawking, hot Charlie.

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff (formerly imaginesofeveryfandom) aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You’d always had brief glimpses of Charlie Weasley throughout your life, but despite your closeness with the rest of the Weasley family and your friendship with the Weasley Twins, you had never officially met. Until Charlie Weasley decided to take the summer off from his work as a Dragon Keeper at the Romanian Reserve and come back home, to the Burrow, that is.

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x

Prologue / Part 1

June was looking to be surprisingly warm in England and with that in mind you forwent the usual woollen jumpers of the Weasley clan and instead reached for your summer clothes that had been sat in the back of the wardrobe for many months. Pulling on a pair of denim shorts, the only pair that you’d managed to get to fit given your wide hips (unlike other denim shorts they didn’t gape at the waist much to your joy), and a vest top, before shoving your feet in your worn trainers. Running a brush through your hair you contemplated the changes you’d gone through since Hogwarts.

You were still a large woman, wide hips, soft stomach, big arms, fat rolls, a soft looking face, thick thighs. But, the self-consciousness you’d held during school was almost nonexistent. The energy you used to have was somewhat diminished, you usually had dark circles under your eyes, and a tired sort of look. Your hair was finally how you’d always wanted it, your parents no longer allowed to tell you off for cutting it this way or that or dying it this colour or the other. (Not that changing your hair was particularly hard when you had magic at your disposal). You looked older, that was certainly true, the youthful look had gone slightly and while you still looked young, you certainly looked like the adult that you were. You hadn’t grown any taller since school and for the most part you thought you looked rather the same, just with more confidence in yourself, a generous helping of trauma and heartache and a few years added on.

Returning the brush to the dresser underneath your mirror, you decided it was probably time to make your way to the little patch of vegetables and fruits that you were charged with watering.

There was something relaxing about gardening at the Burrow, it took your mind off the war that had been and instead allowed you to ground yourself. The sounds of the birds in the trees, the feel of the warm sun on your skin, the soil beneath your hands and knees. It involved a multitude of sensations which helped focus you, helped you smile, even briefly and reminded you that somethings don’t change. Despite everything the earth was still the same, the birds still sang their songs, the sun still decided to shine. While you had all changed and all been touched, some things were constant.

You watched George swing a gnome wildly as you filled a watering can, Ron was nearby being bitten by a gnome. Aguamenti came in handy, quickly filling the can. The vegetables were doing well already, despite needing a little weeding and a little watering, the plants looked healthy. You were sure that Mrs Weasley had some sort of secret trick to making them grow so well and so effortlessly.

You started weeding first, despite the warm sun bearing down on you. You found yourself wiping your brow of sweat every few minutes and your skin felt like it was covered in a thin layer of moisture. But, still you persisted. Until you heard George swear loudly. This swearing prompted a series of events which completely distracted you from your gardening. This series of events went something like this; George swore (something about Merlin’s saggy balls), you promptly looked up to make sure he hadn’t been seriously hurt to find he had just been lightly kicked in the shin by a gnome, at the sound of laughter your eyes moved from George to Charlie...and there in laid your distraction.

As has previously been said Charlie Weasley was an incredibly attractive man, but more so when he was shirtless, standing in the sun, with a large smile on his face. It was a beautiful sight. Charlie’s smile was on its own something that made you feel warm inside, like things were okay because he was smiling. But, dear merlin, were you a woman with certain feelings. Charlie was broad shouldered and beautiful, genuinely beautiful. The magical tattoos that moved across his skin of their own accord, the heavy layer of freckles. The scars that littered his body didn’t detract from the sheer beauty of Charlie, if anything it added to it.They made you more aware of just how resilient and strong Charlie was. You wondered if he could pick you up with those strong arms, what it would be like to be carried by Charlie or simply to be held by him. He looked warm and safe...and delicious. You sighed wistfully as you watched him degnome the garden, your weeding and watering long forgotten.

“You can’t be serious.” You jump with a little squeak (or rather a loud shout) as Ginny pops up right behind you and interrupts your day dreaming. George and Charlie look over at you, from your place in the dirt where you’d fallen in shock, but seemed to decide that you were okay. With a light laugh at your expense they returned to degnoming.

“Ginny!” You hiss at her, “Don’t scare me like that!” You loved the girl dearly, but she knew you were easily scared. Especially after the war. It had heightened your anxiety and hyper awareness.

“I wouldn’t have scared you if you hadn’t been drooling over my brother.” She teases, sitting down next to you in the dirt, “Besides, mum asked me to come help you...I think she noticed you were distracted.”

“Please tell me she didn’t...she’ll be insufferable.” You look towards the Burrow, worried you might see Mrs Weasley eagerly watching you.

“So you don’t want to date my brother?”

“I...I find him pleasant to look at...is all.” That was a lie and the both of you knew it. You would happily date Charlie Weasley. Not only was he physically very attractive, but he was funny and seemed kind and invested in his career. You just had reservations...after all he worked and lived in Romania and if it all went terribly wrong what would happen with your extended family? Would you no longer be able to spend time with the Weasley’s? What if he wasn’t interested and you simply made everything terribly awkward?

“You know there’s no harm in liking someone, right? It’s not going to kill you to admit you’re attracted to him.”

“It’s more than that, Ginny. It’s more complicated. There’s a million other factors to take into account. We’re not kids in school, Gin...we’re adults and we have our own lives and that’s not even taking into account that just because I think Charlie is handsome doesn’t mean he’s interested in me in the slightest!” You pick at the stones in the vegetable patch, throwing them away, just to give your hands something to do. You can feel the embarrassment rising in you at talking about this with his own sister, your friend.

“Piss off! As if he wouldn’t be!”

“Gin, this is the brother that I have been told on numerous occasions will probably remain a bachelor forever. Why would he be interested? I’m a bit of a mess...” Charlie had always been portrayed as a lone wolf, the least likely Weasley to get married, and most likely to die a bachelor. It was hard to imagine he’d suddenly take an interest in a relationship just because you were there.

“We all are. The war did a number on most of us...but you’re amazing and I know my brother. If he’s not already interested, he will be.” She bumps your shoulder with her own and for a moment she seems like the older one, the wise one...not you.

The two of you work together on the vegetable patch, talking about other things such as Harry and whether he’ll propose before Ginny does and her contract with the Holly Head Harpies. It’s nice, you think, as you take in a deep breath of fresh air before a cold wet feeling falls over you and you gasp in shock.

Your hair is dripping, you blink water away from your eyes, your clothing soaked as you look up to see a now empty bucket hovering above your head and a laughing George Weasley doubled over nearby. With a battle cry you run at your best friend and tackle him to the ground, grabbing your wand you cast aguamenti and a stream of water hits him straight in the face. It doesn’t take him long to throw you off and run away, but you watch as Ginny chases after him. Ron is watching with a gnome attached to his leg, his attempts to shake the little thing off don’t seem to be working. In all this excitement you forget that another Weasley was also present...that is until two arms wrap around your thick waist and pull you off the ground.

You barely have enough time to yell “Charlie!” Before a stream of water hits your face. You try not to laugh, lest you choke on the water, but it's hard to do so. Something about this whole situation just seems hilarious to you. Maybe it's your pitiful attempts to get free, not that you were trying especially hard, or maybe it's that it feels like it used to. Like things weren’t different. Like you were all still kids not war weary adults.

“Charlie!” You push away from him, managing to break free and immediately turn on him wand raised.

This water fight between you, Charlie, George, and Ginny, with the occasional complaint from Ron as he gets sprayed by water, continued until Mrs Weasley came out of the Burrow.

“Look at the lot of you! Inside, you best get dry and changed before you catch your death!”

You laugh lightly at the concern on Molly’s face as she ushers you all in with a tea towel in hand, most likely having been making lunch when she saw the lot of you soaked to the bone.

You look up at Charlie as he bumps your shoulder lightly and smiles down at you as he passes. You sigh lightly as he walks in front of you. It would be rather nice you think...to be Charlie’s girlfriend. Rather nice indeed.

Ginny giggles as she moves up to next to you, raising her eyebrows and smirking. You simply roll your eyes but can’t keep the smile off your face. Maybe she wasn’t wrong after all...

#summer nights #reader insert #readerinsert #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasleyxreader #charlie weasley/reader #charlie weasley / reader #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #plus size reader #overweight reader #female reader

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

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We’ll make it work; Wanda x Vision x child reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well it’s been a LOOONG time since I posted something OUTSIDE of the Bohemian Rhapsody/Queen fandom. So I hope that my marvel readers enjoy this cute little fic that had been on my wattpad inbox since like last Sept. And I PROMISE to those anons who have sent me requests from Doctor Who and a couple more marvel stuff, I WILL GET TO YOUR REQUESTS ASAP. So I’ll stop here for now and let you all enjoy this cute little fic :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@queensdivas

@platawnic

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

_______________________________________________________

They said it couldn’t be done. Hell everyone would say it was downright unnatural but yet it was finally happening. After the whole battle with Thanos and managing to bring everyone back, Wanda and Vision settled down together in a quiet suburban home in upstate New York.

They built their house from the ground up using their own two hands and decided that now with the white picket fence home, they could now start thinking about having a family together. Now of course Vision being a machine he can’t physically reproduce but as luck would have it, there was an orphanage just 30 minutes from where they lived.

Wanda submitted an application to the orphanage introducing themselves and what their preference for adopting was. They had agreed on wanting to adopt a little girl, preferably around 4-6 years old. With some interviews, home visits, and looking through the files, Wanda and Vision finally came to an agreement on their dream child, young (Y/n) (l/n).

An orphan that was brought to the orphanage after her mom gave birth to her in prison.

Her parents were would-be-robbers who mostly robbed homes or cabins but then they got cocky hoping to rob a bank. Unfortunately they were caught right before they got even a foot away from the bank. It was there her mom found out she was pregnant and gave birth in prison before the foster system brought her to the orphanage.

After reading her backstory, Wanda and Vision knew immediately they wanted to have her. So she called the orphanage and set up a meet and greet and in one week they would get to meet their future daughter.

When the day arrived, Wanda and Vision (in his human disguise) drove up to the orphanage where they met the Head organizer Ms. Eliza Soo. She asked them some questions that weren’t on the application like what their current jobs were, and since they were publicly named heroes, that they had their powers under control for the sake of their future daughter.

The two heroes assured Ms. Soo that they had full control of their powers and do not intend on showing their powers before young (Y/n) unless she asks them to. After about 15 minutes of chatting away, Ms. Soo told them.

“Alright. Now unlike most meet and greets that other orphanages do, we personally would like to see how the potential parents interact with our children. Instead of trying to force the child to talk in a room with 2 strangers, we ask that the potential adopters meet the child in the Playroom. Are you two up for that?”

“Yes of course. I personally understand what it feels like. For most of my childhood it was only my brother and I for years before he…...” Wanda said. At the mention of her brother, tears flickered in her eyes but Vision took her hand in both of his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“My wife lost her brother just shortly after we met. They were both orphaned when they were 10 years old back in her old home of Sokovia.”

“Oh I’m so sorry Ms. Maximoff, my condolences on your loss. I lost my brother around that age too. Gunshot by a rival gang member.” She took a deep breath in before exhaling out. “Now then, (Y/n) should already be heading towards the playroom if not already there by now. Allow me to escort you there so that you three may get acquainted with each other.” The three of them stood up and Ms. Soo guided them out of her office and down the hall.

They soon reached a room that was labeled at the top of the door PLAYROOM. Decorated all over the door were various art projects that the kids have done and at the bottom there were their names and ages.

“Now we’ll just observe you guys from the double-sided mirrors and see how you guys interact with her. If we see that there’s a connection, then we can proceed with the legal adoption.”

“Thank you Ms. Soo.” Vision said. She nodded and walked off leaving the couple alone by the door. The two of them looked at each other and Wanda asked her husband and partner.

“You ready?”

“If you are, then so am I.” Vision responded. Wanda then reached for the doorknob and turned it on its side to open it up.

When they stepped into the room, it was completely filled with every kid of children’s toys imaginable from toy cars and trucks, dolls and action figures, even a small TV with a videogame console. There was also drawings hung up along the wall just like there were on the door.

Soon their eyes came to young 4 year old (Y/n) (L/n). She was at a small circular table with some paper and crayons surrounding her. Happily humming to herself as she continued to draw on the paper. When she saw Wanda and Vision, her head tilted to the side like an intrigued puppy.

“Are you my new mommy and daddy?”

“We—we hope to be.” Answered Wanda. A wide smile soon spread across her face and she raced right up to them and immediately embraced Wanda. Once she felt that little girl embrace her, a warm sensation fell over her and she already felt that maternal instinct take over. Wanda knelt down and embraced young (Y/n) and she said. “So what is it you were drawing?”

“Come look. I’ve been working really hard on it!” like every excited child that wanted to show off their accomplishments, she dragged them both to the table and they all sat down around it and she began to show them all the drawings she’s done.

Some of them were drawings of herself out in a flower field, with her favorite animals, but one picture struck out to the two of them.

“What is this picture of (Y/n)?” Vision said as he held up a picture of (Y/n) standing between two adult figures. But they had no hair or facial features drawn yet.

“That’s a picture of me with my new family. I…..I didn’t want to finish it till I knew it was for real. Are you guys really gonna be my new parents?” Wanda smiled and gently placed her hand on top of (Y/n)’s head and stroked down it.

“If Ms. Soo thinks we’re good with you, then yes. We will be.”

“I know one way that can help you, follow me!” she then stood up and raced over to the toy chest and opened it up. Inside were dozens of costumes ranging from feather boas, to every kind of hat imaginable. Donated Halloween costumes, and even some props. “Since you guys are real life heroes, do you think we could play superheroes?”

Both Vision and Wanda were a little hesitant but after seeing the hopeful look in (Y/n)’s face, they agreed. So they want up to her and they dug through the costume chest to see what all they could find.

With the wide imagination (Y/n)’s had, her and Wanda would be the heroes while Vision was to play the giant fire breathing dinosaur. They stacked up some blocks for the town and places the toy cars to make it feel like an actual city.

Watching them through the double-shift mirror, Ms. Soo along with some of the other workers watched the two former heroes interact with (Y/n).

“Seems (Y/n) has finally found the family she’s always wanted.” Said one of the female workers.

“I agree.” Said a male worker. Ms. Soo who had been watching with interest, began to realize that maybe her employers were right.

After about 10min. of playtime and just getting to know her a bit more, that’s when Ms. Soo stepped into the room. Her face was stoic as she looked at the three of them.

Wanda and Vision stood up and Vision asked.

“Ms. Soo, is there something wrong?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I’ve seen all that I’ve wanted to see. And……you guys have proven to me that you’re meant to be her future parents.”

“Really Ms. Soo?! Wanda and Vision are gonna be my new mommy and daddy?” (Y/n) asked excitedly.

“Indeed they are. We’ll have the legal forms printed out and have you both sign them. Then in a couple of weeks you can officially move in with them to your new home.” Ecstatic about the news, (Y/n) jumped up and down happily cheering at the fact she now had a new mom and dad, not only that but her new parents were Scarlet Witch and Vision.

“Thank you Ms. Soo. Thank you.” Wanda said happily.

“No need to thank me. You’re truly shown me that you both are the perfect couple to take her in.”

So for the next couple of weeks, Wanda and Vision signed any legal papers that the orphanage would send to them, get (Y/n)’s room ready for her and buy her some new toys, clothes and get her bed all made up.

Vision was currently outside building the playground that they wanted (Y/n) to play in the backyard. It wasn’t anything grand just the basic swing set and jointed mini-clubhouse. But as he was reading the instructions for how to hook the swings up that’s when he heard the gossiping voices of one of the neighbors next door, Karen and Felicia.

“Have you heard about the couple next door adopting a kid?” asked Felicia.

“Yes. That poor kid, having to be adopted by a bunch of freaks.” Karen mouthed out.

“I mean Wanda’s an okay girl, but I just worry about that boyfriend of hers.”

“Like he’s a freakin machine! You’ve seen all those robot shows. What if he goes all Terminator on that poor little girl?”

“I’d feel safer if her and Wanda bailed when that robot isn’t looking.”

“Amen to that sister. Oh! Did you see the recent Housewives of Orange County….” At this point Vision stopped working and went back inside.

He phased through the wall before levitating himself up towards the master bedroom and just stood there with an array of emotions buzzing about his head. Anger, fear, hurt, heartbroken, but most of all doubt.

Was he really able to take care of a child….scratch that a human being? He was an android after all. What hope could he possibly have of taking care of a human child? He couldn’t taste properly so there’s no way he’d be able to cook for his new daughter. There are some human emotions that he still has trouble deciphering, so how would he know what his daughter was feeling, especially once she reached her teenage years?

“Vis?” Wanda’s voice called out to him. He looked up and saw Wanda kneeling in front of him. Vision soon took notice that he was now on the floor, his knees curled up close to his chest, his back up against the wall. “Are you okay?”

“Wanda I—”

“Shhh, calm down. Breathe for me.” She placed her hand to the side of his head, her fingers gently brushing against his temple and he closed his eyes taking in a few deep breaths. “You okay now?”

“Yes. Forgive me I—don’t know what came over me.”

“You were having an anxiety attack.”

“How—how is that possible?” Vision asked. He was an android how could he have an anxiety attack?

“I don’t know.”

“Well we’ll—we’ll worry about how that’s possible later. Do you want to tell me what it was all about?” Vision looked down with regret and he whispered softly.

“I was a fool to think I could do this.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“Me. Being a—a father. To a human child.”

“What? Vision why—why would you say something like that?”

“I’m not fully human Wanda. I mean yes I can pull the disguise but—when it all comes down to it I’m a machine. After all I was originally supposed to be Ultron’s Vision.”

“But you’re not…….”

“There could be another threat. A threat that—puts you and our……I’m sorry Wanda. I shouldn’t have even spoken up about this.”

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me Vision.” She cupped the side of his face. Her eyes filled with concern as her brow furrowed to match the concern in her eyes. “There is nothing wrong with speaking up about something like this. I’m scared too.”

“But you’re at least human. What if I—what if I hurt her?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I feel you. Just you. And when we played with (Y/n) just two weeks ago, I could feel just how happy you were. You will not hurt her.”

“But what if…..”

“Stop.” She held out her hand as she spoke softly. She then moved her hand and gently with her powers, showed Vision a memory of when they first met (Y/n).

Specifically the memory of when both him and (Y/n) were playing together. It was when she (as the superhero) had slain the reptile creature and he allowed her to climb on top of him and do a victory pose with her fake sword and shield. After awhile that’s when he suddenly came back alive and he began to playfully tickle her.

After seeing that memory, Vision turned to Wanda and she said with a warm smile.

“That’s how I know you won’t hurt her. After just knowing her for that short 10min. of playtime. You were just like how my father was with me. Kind, caring, and a heart full of love.”

“You do realize I don’t actually have a heart right?” she arched her brow at Vision annoyed. “Right, sorry.”

“You know what I mean. What I’m trying to tell you Vis is that it doesn’t matter whether your human or machine, (Y/n) loves you for who you are, who you’re going to be to her. You’re the only father she’ll never know. And as long as you care and love her, it doesn’t matter what you look like.” Vision nodded and said to his love, tears flickering in his eyes.

“Thank you Wanda. Thank you.”

“I love you Vis. So does (Y/n). I won’t deny that we’ll probably make a million mistakes but so long as we both love her together, I know we’re doing something right.” The two of them shared a soft but loving kiss before embracing each other.

In a few days (Y/n) was soon moved into her new home and just like Wanda told him, they both loved and gave her the care she was denied from her birth parents.

Of course there were the skeptical neighbors but Vision hardly paid them any mind now, because as long as he was loved by his new daughter, that’s all that mattered to him.

Also I won’t confirm or deny that when Wanda finally found out just who was responsible for putting doubt into Vision’s head in the first place, she may or might not have given Karen visions of her worst memories and fears, while making Felicia think she had a poltergeist in her house.

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calitraditionalism · 3 years ago

Text

Arc Three: Chapter Six

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The broken ring of an audience was silent for a long time after Greyleaf’s story ended. They looked at each other, at the sky, at nothing at all, trying to absorb what they had been told and to deduce whether any of it was true or not.

All of the anger seemed to have left Greyleaf, his fur lying flat, if a little clumped and stiff from the rain. He breathed normally, his eyes tired and dark. He stood straighter, like the massive weight of his knowledge had been physically lifted off his back. Redheart mirrored his posture, though her head was a little lowered and her expression was one of relief. The two of them said nothing, merely watched the cats around them.

Flyfang was the first to speak, her voice cracked and weak. “Then my mom’s soul…”

“If she’s dead, she’s in that thing,” Redheart said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Flyfang shivered hard. “And my dad…” She froze up with a gasp. “When my sisters die-“

“When we all die.” Laurelclaw looked back and forth with increasing distress, his short tail puffed up like a coyote’s. “Our families, friends – everyone-“ He turned pleadingly to Redheart and Greyleaf. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Outside of leaving?” Greyleaf’s calmness was tainted with a bitter twitch of his lip. “Probably not.”

“They could be lying,” Beetlefoot said, hardly sounding like he was certain. “They could be mistaken.”

“I doubt it,” Darkpelt said, still cool and collected, even if her pupils were constricted and her tail was shaking. “This entire thing makes sense to me. Even if they made it up, it’s way too out there to be a reasonably invented lie. Who would claim something this crazy and expect anyone to believe them?”

Beetlefoot’s mouth moved a few times, but he gave up, staring at the ground with a dumbfounded sense of fear.

Greyleaf now looked at Mistface, deeply unhappy. “Can you see now why we have to leave with Mama as soon as possible?”

Mistface tried to breathe, but it came out shaky and stuttering. “We’re…we are on a time limit, ain’t we?”

Greyleaf dipped his chin a little in a half-nod before returning his focus to the rest of the group. “So whatever you want to do with that, you can. That’s the truth, and we’re trying to save everyone before they can die here.”

“It’s quite a task, as you can see,” Redheart said. “I’m amazed that any of you believe us.”

Silence again for a long moment, before Littlepaw’s timid voice broke it. “Then…what do we do now?”

Everyone looked at each other again, seeking someone to tell them too.

Darkpelt sighed and shook out her fur. “Well, for now, we should probably just rest. It’s night and we’ll need to think things over.” She pulled one side of her mouth back, considering. “I suppose we’ll have someone coming for us soon enough. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to have time to decide on my next course of action before they catch up to us.”

“I’ll take watch, if y’all intend to sleep,” Mistface said, a little quicker than he would have liked. He needed privacy to reflect, and he'd take it any way he could without outright abandoning the group.

A pause where everyone turned to the Clast deputy, silently seeking an answer, or an order - something to give them direction.

Redheart slowly spoke. “I think sleep would be best. None of us can go anywhere when it’s this dark and wet at the same time.”

“I can try, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep,” said Laurelclaw. He shook his head and regarded Greyleaf and Redheart almost in awe. “I have no idea how you’ve slept at all for all these years.”

“I never knew anything else,” Greyleaf muttered, and moved to the side, prodding the ground for a dry spot.

“All I had was my goal.” Redheart backed a little and sniffed the ground. “That’s what’s kept me going.”

It took a long time before everyone was settled – finding a spot that wasn’t entirely muddy or soaking grass was difficult, and their breathing gave away their stress. Mistface didn’t speak to any of them. He just sat facing the direction they had come from, ears perked, mind racing.

It could all be a lie, he wanted to remind himself. It didn’t have to be true. His brother could have just been driven mad by his nightmares and Redheart took advantage of that. Or maybe Redheart was a loony, and Greyleaf was just desperate for an explanation. And even as he thought that, he knew how stupid of a suggestion it was. Darkpelt was right – this was too strange of a story to be thought acceptable to sell to others under the knowledge that it was made up. Liars could think up sensible details from dusk ‘til dawn, and the insane could believe total nonsense. Doing both was not easy.

These thoughts turned over and over in Mistface’s head as he half-listened to the rest of the cats’ breathing slow and deepen. It took a very long time for everyone to fall asleep, and Mistface kept his ear swiveling, listening for anyone having a nightmare. He didn’t know exactly how the truth would affect them, but he wasn’t willing to disregard the idea that someone was going to see something bad.

Grass shifted.

Mistface’s head jerked around. He got halfway off his haunches. No one could have found them this early, could they?

It was black and silver out here in the night, but he thought he saw something to the side of a tree on the edge of the grove. Some shape that could have been a fox, or could have been…

“Not a chance,” he said under his breath. He stood up and craned his neck forward, squinting.

A figure, tall and dark and thin. It stood silently, regarding him as he regarded it.

He immediately knew who it was.

Mistface did one quick dart of the eyes to make sure no one was coming towards them from the north, and then stood and slowly made his way to the shadow.

It didn’t move. In fact, the way it watched him, he was sure that it had timed its visit just so that someone would see it. Its snakelike tail, fading away towards the tip, waved a little, side-to-side.

“You’re right bold, ain’t you?” Mistface said, keeping his voice low. He stopped when he was several body-lengths away. “What if we hadn’t heard their story before we saw you?”

The Runagate blinked slowly, almost dryly. I was there to hear it. Have to keep close to them these days. My voice isn’t as strong as it was.

Mistface knew that, faced with a ghost – or demon, or devil, or spirit, whatever it was – he should be at least a little nervous, if not outright scared. He knew the tales. He knew that it could have been manipulating two innocent and stressed-out cats.

Somehow, though, it felt like talking with a neighbor. Or perhaps like sharing a view with someone else of something too strange to explain.

Mistface tilted his head. “Funny, ain’t it. Whole perspective of the world gets changed in one night. Now you’re hardly anythin’ to talk to.”

I’ve been ‘hardly anything’ for a very long time, the Runagate said. Its head lowered a little. Just slowly fading while I try to spread the word. It’s all I’ve got now, like them. A pause, and then, almost too quiet to hear the thought, I don’t even remember who I was before all of this. Before I died.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mistface said - genuinely, to his surprise. “You’re nothin’ like I imagined.”

The smallest ‘hm’, that could perhaps be considered a noise of hollow amusement. They always make me out to be some pale monster with a snake’s tongue. Got real tired of watching those performances the first couple generations.

“I can only imagine.” Mistface looked back, checking to see if anyone was awake. Nothing. He turned again to the Runagate. “You’re somethin’ special, certainly. How did you get away from it? Redheart’s mother didn’t.”

She should have fled herself, the Runagate said, and its voice was just a little more intense in Mistface’s head, with some emotion he couldn’t name. I took one look before I ran for everything I held dear. Didn’t pause to ask questions. Just ran. And I’ve been running since then.

Mistface was surprised at the pity in his heart – not just because he had it at all, but because out of all of the characters in the Clan’s legends he had been told about, he didn’t expect to feel it for a supposed demon who was living through sheer determination, even when the whole Territory was against them.

A question came to his mind. “There been anyone else you’ve told? Anyone else who’s known?”

A heavy sigh…or perhaps the wind. Only a few, and only one at a time. Greyleaf and Redheart existing together is a miracle. The others, they did nothing. They could find nothing to do. Most of them just ran away. Sometimes took friends or family out of the Territory. I don’t know where they are now.

Mistface’s eyelids lowered a little as he considered this. There came another question, burning with his curiosity much more. “Greyleaf ain’t ever been affected by this. You got any idea why?”

The Runagate made another lifeless, breathy noise like a chuckle. I wish I knew. He’s a first. Not many cats like him that nothing can get to. It took everything I had just to talk to him in his dreams that one time.

“Huh.” Mistface’s eyes drifted down. “Curious. It’d be worthwhile to study that.”

If you have the time before it’s too late, certainly.

“We will,” Mistface said, startled again by a new sensation in his chest – something steady and warm, making him feel a little bolder. “Everyone’s gettin’ the time. We’ll figure somethin’ out. This ain’t continuin’.”

The Runagate’s head tilted and its eyes narrowed, but its tone was almost surprised. You intend to do something about this.

Mistface was unsure of what he was feeling, but he let it guide him into a firm nod. “If for no one else, for my family. Mama ain’t goin’ to that thing.” His fur fluffed out a little. “No one is, if I got my way. I’m sure at least some of these folks’ll feel the same.”

The Runagate blinked slowly, regarding him. The fading tail drifted back and forth slowly, like grass in the breeze. Mistface met what remained of its eyes with firm focus. Neither spoke for a moment.

I can give you all what I know, the Runagate said finally. I don’t know how much help I can be otherwise. I’m running out of… The silhouette shuddered and rippled. I’m out of everything, really. Time. Energy. Fear can only keep one going for so long, brother of Greyleaf.

Mistface gave it one nod and said, about as firmly as he could at such a quiet volume, “You’ll rest soon. We can figure this out.”

The shadowy face had a hint of a smile. I’ll hold you to that.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc three #chapter #chapter six #redheart #greyleaf #mistface #beetlefoot #littlepaw #laurelclaw #darkpelt #flyfang #the runagate

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cauliflowercounty · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Me in the Middle Pt. II (Fred Weasley x fem! Reader)

House: Ilvermorny, You Choose

Blood Status: You Choose

Warning: Mentions of alcohol use

Read Part I Here!

-----

Fred blinks his eyes open to see a bland white wall come slowly into focus. He seems to be lying down in a bed, covered in a white sheet and his limbs feel heavy as lead. As he regains his consciousness, he hears a beeping coming from his side and a blistering pain erupts in his head, making him groan.

“He’s awake!” he hears his little sister gasp. Footsteps on the linoleum rush out of the room and he hears Ginny calling to the rest of his family. “It’s Fred!”

All at once, he sees a whole bunch of red-headed people crowd around his hospital bed.

“Where am I?” he murmurs, his voice weak and hoarse from not speaking.

“Muggle hospital,” he hears George murmur. “The doctor is a muggle. You were transferred here after you stabilized.”

“Oh, my boy!” Molly Weasley gasps, taking his right hand in hers, her eyes brimming with tears, thankful that her family has made it through the war.

The doctor comes in moments later to talk to Fred, but everything seems to flash by and all Fred can think about is what happened. He was laughing as Pius Thicknesse got turned into a sea urchin by Percy and then everything stops there. The doctor mentions something about physical therapy and then leaves to let Fred talk with his family.

“Did we win?” Fred asks and everyone nods. “How long was I out?”

“A month and a half,” Percy says. “We thought you’d never come back.”

“I couldn't go out like that,” Fred smiles. “Fred Weasley? Going quietly like that? Never?”

The family laughs a little around him, realizing Fred and his jokes are here to stay. With that, Fred leans his head back and closes his eyes. He’s alive. He made it through the war, but now his mind is turning to you.

Fred struggles as he uses the metal bars beside him to walk. He’s been in physical therapy for so long. He’s gotten a lot of his mobility back, but not his muscle mass. He’s improving daily, but he’s not doing well enough. he’s not well enough for his plan. His goal is to get back to where he’s walking and independent again. He’ll send you a letter telling you he’s alive and he’s coming to meet you in New York City and that he hopes you’ll meet him there.

He still can’t walk, though, but Fred’s determined to get strong enough to reach you again. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

After months of frustration, falls, and feeling inadequate and hopeless, Fred can walk again. he still needs a cane if he’s tired or feeling weak, but he’s made fast progress. Finally, after a long drawn out process, he sends you a letter when he feels ready.

Dear y/n,

I’m sorry for not writing for so long. The war changed everything and I want to apologize. I was in the hospital for a long while. I got injured at the Battle of Hogwarts. I’m doing well now, though. I want to come meet you in the U.S. I know it's been a long time, but you’ve been one of the only things I can think about now. You were one of my best friends before the war and I don’t want that to be the end of it.

If you’d like to meet me, I’ll be in New York City on July 1st. If you want to meet me, send me a sign. Anything. Please, y/n.

Your Freddie

As he sends the letter off, he’s hoping you’ll get it and that you’ll want to see him as much as he wants to see you. He hopes that he’s still special to you. He hopes you feel the same way.

A few days later of Fred not sleeping, hoping for a response, George walks up to him and hands him the smallest envelope he’s seen and leaves Fred alone, knowing this is from you.

Hands shaking, Fred undoes the wax seal on it with a pop. He unfolds the paper and his heart leaps in his chest as he reads the handwriting he’s learned to recognize.

July 1st, 6:30pm @ 30 Rockefeller Center outside Radio City Music Hall.

Showing the ministry man his identification, Fred, cane and bag in hand, steps into a room with an old dictionary in it. It’s one of the Ministry regulated portkeys to New York. As he grabs on, the world swirls around him. It spins and twists until he hands in a room where he is ushered away by a MACUSA worker. He checks his bag just outside the door. The witch looking at his bags gives him the all-clear and Fred sets off to the information outside customs.

“Excuse me,” he says to the wizard behind the counter. “What time is it?”

“5:55,” the wizard responds, looking up at a clock on the wall beside him.

“and how do I get to Rockefeller Center?” Fred asks. The wizard gets up out of his char and rushed over to a filing cabinet and pulls out a map and hands it to Fred in the opening in the glass that stands between him and Fred. The information wizard gestures for Fred to go away so he can serve a witch who’s carrying two crying babies looking for currency exchange.

Taking out the map, Fred steps outside and joins the throng of people moving through the NYC sidewalks. When Fred gets to Radio City, it’s 6:36 and he cruses himself for not being right on time. From his jacket pocket, he takes out the photo you sent him all those years ago. He looks down and watches as you pet the niffler, that same twinkle in your eyes that he’s grown to love. He spins around, trying to pick you out, but suddenly he notices a woman standing on the street corner, her hands in her pockets. She looks around and he realizes it’s you.

You’ve changed your hair and you’ve gotten older since that care fo magical creatures picture was taken. Your eyes are the same, but they’re ever so slightly duller, the wear and tear of the war presenting itself. In that moment, Fred is so thankful the collapse didn’t take his life. Not only would he not be able to be with his family ever again, but he would have never met you in person and finally hear your voice.

Fred walks slowly toward you, not wanting to shock you, but he’s excited and nervous, which he fears might make him move suddenly.

“Excuse me?” he says as he comes to stand by you. “Y/n? Is that you?”

You turn to your right as soon as you hear your name said with a British accent. You look up and see Fred Weasley, the tall ginger boy you’ve been pen pals with since you were sixteen. The one who’s letters you always looked for in the mail, the one who sent you bizarre British candies and foods for you to try, the one you’ve shared your hopes, dreams, and secrets with

“Freddie!” you smile with a gasp, wrapping your arms up around him for a hug. Fred is surprised at your frowardness, but it’s not unwelcome. He’s waited for this moment for years. “I can’t believe it!”

“Me neither,” Fred says, still in shock a bit. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long you have no idea, y/n.”

You giggle and it’s music to Fred’s ears. “You act like I think you’re chopped liver. Of course, I’ve waited for this, too!”

A blush coats Fred’s cheeks. You’ve wanted this, too.

“You’re probably wondering why I wanted you here at this time?” you say and Fred nods in response. “Well, I’ve got a pair of tickets to a concert that’s happening inside. Would you like to accompany me and then we can get some food after?”

Fred’s heart is going a mile a minute as he accepts. This is everything he ever could have anted from meeting you for the first time. You take Fred’s hand gently and pull him to the box office to give the man your tickets.

Inside, you both sit next to each other as the music plays. In the darkness, you intertwine your fingers with Fred’s. You notice he tenses as you do so.

“Are you okay, Freddie?” you ask. Fred shakes his head, loving the way his name falls off your lips.

“I just wasn’t anticipating it...,” Fred whispers. “I’m not uncomfortable... I just have been dreaming of this for more than I’d care to admit.”

The light from the stage shines in such a way that Fred can tell you’re smiling at him.

“I’ve been dreaming of this, too,” you share as you rest your head on his shoulder ever so gently. Fred’s stomach is filled with tingly sensations as you do. His heart is dancing in his chest and he is only barely keeping his glee under control as to not disrupt the other audience members.

For the rest of the show, all Fred can think about is you. All of your letters are running through his mind and what it’s taken to get here to this moment and he couldn’t possibly be happier.

Later, you take him to Joe’s Pizza on Carmine street for real New York-style pizza. There’s not a moment when you’re both not smiling at each other. By the end of the night after a few drinks, Fred finally plucks up the courage he’s wanted to have all this time. He kisses you. On the mouth in front of everyone at the bar. You hear their whistles and cheering, but all you can really register are Fred Weasley’s lips on yours and the his arms wrapped around your body, not wanting to let you go over again.

Months later, you’re both in the bedroom of your apartment in London, the sun shines through the window as you snuggle into Fred’s chest.

“Morning, my love,” Fred yawns, raising his arms up to stretch.

“Few more minutes, Freddie... It’s too early,” you mumble as you roll over on top of him.

“Come on, y/n. The sun is already shining, and we have to open the shop. You can do it. Get up, love” Fred encourages, giving you a few nudges. “At least let me get up?”

“No!” you reply, hugging him tighter. “You’re staying with me. I’m not letting go!”

“Alright,” Fred says, yielding to your wishes. “A few more minutes. Georgie can’t blame us for being a few minutes late when he hears that we’re engaged now.”

“Mmhmm,” you reply. “Your mother is going to have a field day when we tell her. She’s been wanting to plan another wedding for so long.”

“Should we owl her or tell her in person?” Fred asks, considering owling her might be better in order to avoid his mother clobbering him with questions.

‘That’s a problem for later, Freddie. Now is the time for sleep,” you insist as Fred finally closes his eyes, already envisioning the beautiful wedding you’ll have together. Before 7th year, he always envisioned himself marrying one of the girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team or something. Never would Fred have ever guessed that he would fall in love with his pen friend from the US and travel thousands of miles just to meet her.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #Harry Potter #weasley twins

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angstyaches · 4 years ago

Note

Oooh, could you possibly do "Have you eaten today?" for the prompt meme?

Thank you for this, anon! (Sorry it took so long, *gulp*.) This is while Shayne’s at the Aldridge townhouse, still settling in and getting to know Felix.

I HAVE written the conversation Shayne has with Ryan. Please let me know if you’re interested in seeing that posted soon!

CW: hunger, disordered eating, past trauma, food issues, angst.

When to stop talking, and when to start

(Three Boys in a Townhouse)

Shayne stopped at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing at his eyes and shivering. He’d only come down for some water, but now it seemed he was having auditory hallucinations. The TV in the front room of the Devine’s mansion had never worked, but there was a low hum of unfamiliar voices and applause and music leaking from the direction of the front room, and –

He looked around as he took his hands away from his eyes. The hallway walls were painted crisp white, lit only by a boxy white lamp on an iron dresser; if he were back with the Devines, he’d be looking at Madelyn’s antique display cabinet against a burgundy wall, lit by a handful of candles, if lit at all. But he was miles away, in the Aldridge townhouse.

A low groan of confusion escaped from deep in his chest. He was dizzy and a bit nauseous, now that he took a moment to check in with himself. He rubbed half-consciously at a dull ache in his belly, stopping himself when he realised someone could come into the hallway and see him at any time.

You think your petty ailments matter in the grand scheme of things? The sound of Madelyn’s voice was as clear in his head as it had been in whatever dream had disoriented him. Shayne cleared his throat and tried to look more alive than he felt as he turned left at the end of the stairs, towards the kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if it was the solid day of study or the intense twenty-minute nap he’d just woken up from, but something had seriously messed up his head, along with his body. He felt like he was either going to retch or feel his knees buckle under him at any second, and he just wanted to grab a drink quickly, and get back upstairs before he bumped into Elliott, or Nancy, or Ryan, or especially –

“Oh, hey, Shayne!”

The kitchen was as monochromatic as every other room in the house, with white lighting that was almost offensive. Shayne wasn’t used to seeing the corners of furniture, the details in floor and wall tiles, so clearly. It was like an assault on his senses and didn’t help with the queasy ache in his stomach.

He blinked at the sight of Felix, and again at the smell of food cooking. It must have been earlier in the evening than he’d thought. The air was mostly full of the smell of hot oil, and a lot of steam that was coming from a stocky white contraption next to the microwave.

Felix had been standing near the white appliance and checking his phone, but had looked up at the sudden movement in the doorway.

“Evening,” he said, a soft smile splitting his face.

“Hey,” Shayne said, unable to suppress a shiver. He hadn’t realised just how cold he was until he felt the warmth in the air from food being cooked. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing the kitchen had been empty. “Sorry, I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Aw, buddy, you can be in my way all you like.” Felix laid his phone down on the countertop and casually folded his arms. “We nearly straight-up forgot you were in the house. You’ve been revising all day?”

“Pretty much.” Shayne felt Felix watching him as he took down a glass and went to fill it up from the sink. He took a few sips to try to calm the weird shakiness, but the sensation of the cold liquid running down made him shiver again.

“Yeah, its chilly tonight,” Felix said, as though agreeing with something Shayne had said aloud. “Elli and I have got a fire going in the front room. You could bring your books downstairs and study down here, unless the TV would be too distracting.”

Shayne took another sip of water, his hand weirdly unsteady, as he considered the offer. Being near a fire sounded nice, but it wasn’t the TV he was most concerned about being in a room with. Elliott had seemed so cold the past few days, and Shayne didn’t know how to deal with him. Another reason he’d been basically isolating himself in his room.

“I know it probably seems like he’s annoyed and doesn’t want to see you,” Felix admitted, as though he’d somehow read Shayne’s mind. “But Elliott’s just – he’s reluctant to make the first move, after everything. He can be stubborn as hell sometimes. I guess you’ve got that in common, and that’s why you clash horns so often.”

Shayne lifted his head in surprise, the shakiness in his bones suddenly feeding into panicked defensiveness. “I’m not stubborn. Am I?”

“Um, of course not. What was I thinking?” Felix visibly chewed his lip and turned his gaze away. “I think I know the answer to this, bud, but have you eaten today?”

Shayne shook his head slightly. He hadn’t, but he was fine with that. He didn’t want to ask anything of the Aldridges, aside from the space he’d been given to use. Space couldn’t be used up; he could leave the bedroom in the exact same state he’d found it in. It’d be like he was never there, eventually, and he wouldn’t have to feel that he owed them anything.

He’d been feeling so sick and stressed that the thought of food genuinely wasn’t appealing anyway; in fact, the lack of food in his system should have reduced the nausea that had been coming and going since he’d arrived at the townhouse, but somehow it hadn’t.

“You know you…” Felix grimaced and trailed off, seeming unsure of whether he was supposed to laugh now or not.

Shayne gulped against a swelling sensation in his chest. The flash of sympathy he’d just seen in Felix’s eyes reminded him way too much of Charlie’s questions, Charlie’s attempts to feed him, Charlie’s soft expression as he tried to understand. The hollow ache in the pit of his stomach seemed to sharpen slightly; damn it, he’d almost lasted the whole day without letting himself dwell on Charlie…

“You know you’re allowed to eat, right?” Felix finally finished, lowering his voice. “The kitchen’s not just here for show.”

“I – yeah, I know,” he tried to say matter-of-factly. His hands burrowed into the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders tensed so suddenly that they ached.

“You can eat with us in a little while, if you’re hungry,” Felix offered.

Eating with Felix and Elliott. Eating with two whole people; being near them while he put food in his mouth and chewed it up and swallowed it. One person he barely knew and didn’t know how to act around, and one person who pretty thought he was a psychopath. The whole thing sounded like a horror movie scenario.

“Thanks,” he said flatly, gulping against the fear gurgling up the back of his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“That’s a shame, it’s just – I forgot that Nancy would be out tonight,” Felix went on, glancing towards the white appliance, which was expelling a lot less steam than it had been before, “so I’ve actually made more than enough for the three of us, especially since Elli eats so little nowadays. I always overestimate how much rice I need to make.”

Shayne lowered his gaze again at the mention of Elliott’s name, but looked up again at the white appliance on the countertop. “That thing is for rice?”

“Oh – yeah, you’ve never seen one of these?” Felix’s eyes lit up a little as he looked at the machine too. “It makes the rice come out sooo soft and fluffy, you have no idea. I fried some chicken earlier to go with it.”

Shayne suddenly recognised the sharp ache that had crept down under his ribs and seemed to have wrapped itself around his insides. He moved a hand from the pocket of his jeans and into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing – Charlie’s – so he could put a little pressure on his stomach.

“My friend Kazu’s older sister taught me how to fry chicken. It’s called karaage in Japanese,” Felix was continuing. “I definitely don’t do it justice, but I like to think I’ve perfected it in my own way over the years. The coating is just slightly crispy, and the chicken stays juicy on the inside. It goes so well with the rice.”

Shayne held his breath and stared at the black and white floor tiles. He really wanted to think of something to say as he felt his stomach start to cramp.

He wanted words to come out of his mouth and distract from what he knew was coming, but his mind went completely blank except for the hot sting of embarrassment.

The deep, traitorous rumble started under his ribs, and even when he pressed his hand a little harder against his belly, the sound still swelled. The pain twisted deeper into his stomach too, making it hard not to wince.

“Are you okay?” Felix asked quietly, after letting a couple of seconds of silence pass over.

Shayne glanced up, his skin still feeling hot with shame at being caught, not only in the lie about not being hungry, but also in this state of needing something. Felix’s easy smile made the tension in his shoulders loosen slightly.

“How about I put some food aside for you to take up to your room?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Shayne said quickly, scratching at his neck. Despite everything, he had to admit to himself that he felt a bit… relieved, at the thought of being able to eat alone.

“I do, actually.” Felix pointed to his own ears. “Even half-vamps have heightened senses, buddy. Elli and I won’t get any sleep if your stomach’s gonna growl like that all night.”

The humiliation clawed at Shayne’s skin like a physical thing, so overpowering that he thought he was going to finally retch. Madelyn’s voice played over his own thoughts again, her tone so sharp it made him jump on the spot.

If you love making stuff disappear down that throat of yours so much, why don’t you make yourself useful and make sure it’s a demon? Instead of wasting actual food and making a pathetic weakling of yourself –

“I’m kidding, bud.” Felix leaned his elbows on the island in the middle of the kitchen and tilted his head to smile up at him. “Hey, I’m really sorry. Okay? I’m – I’m just an idiot over here, not knowing when to stop talking...”

The end of Felix’s sentence melted off into a chuckle, though it sounded off. Heavy. It didn’t sound like Felix. Shayne’s shoulders tensed again as he realised it was his fault. If he could figure out when to start talking, maybe people wouldn’t get so uncomfortable around him.

His belly started to growl again, though this time he just placed his hand over it, feeling a bit defeated. Felix’s gaze flicked up and he gave Shayne a weak half-smile.

“If I leave food for you, will you eat it?”

Shayne tried to make himself nod, but when he finally managed to, he also found that tears had sprung to his eyes. He gulped and fought them back, but couldn’t stop his hands from shaking; though he was no longer sure if it was from emotion, or the cold, or the hunger that was clearly sapping his energy. He folded his arms tightly across his middle and stared at the floor tiles again.

“You should...” Felix trailed off, and didn’t start again until Shayne reluctantly met his gaze. “You should talk to Ryan about - about whatever. She acts a bit like a robot, but she’s understanding, and - well, she’s good at fixing problems.”

Shayne nodded wordlessly, curling his arms a little tighter against his stomach as another noisy vibration began. He let himself let out a small groan this time, reckoning it was better than awkward silence.

“I’ll leave yours in the microwave,” Felix said, standing up from where he’d been leaning over the countertop. “You can go, if you don’t want to be here when Elliott comes out.”

Shayne glanced towards the kitchen door, already feeling a little anxious at the thought of seeing Elliott. But like Felix had said, Elliott probably wasn’t going to make the first move, so maybe... maybe Shayne had to.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait,” he said, swallowing hard as he met Felix’s gaze again. “Do, um, do you need help with anything?”

#hunger #hunger fic #swallow the world #three boys in a townhouse #shayne #felix #food #prompt #stomach growls #disordered eating #angst

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rainbowwing251 · 3 years ago

Text

New World, Old Traditions (Xenoblade Chronicles Tickle Fic)

A/N: SURPRISE! I decided to write a shorter fic for the 1-year anniversary of Xenoblade Chronicles: Definitive Edition!

While I couldn’t finish “WARNING: Beware of Grins” in time for the anniversary, I couldn’t stomach the idea of not doing anything for it. So I sat there, wondering if I could do anything to celebrate this milestone, when I thought to myself, “Hey! I should write a fic based on two of the headcanons that I have about the birthdays of the main party members in Xenoblade Chronicles!”

What are those two headcanons? Well, allow me to describe them to you!

Headcanon #1: The birthdays of each of the main party members correspond to a date that matches up with either one of two things:

The release date of a specific entry in the Xenoblade series, including ports.

A date on which major news for a specific entry in the Xenoblade series was announced. An example would be March 26th, the date of the Nintendo Direct Mini that announced the release date for XC:DE and the Future Connected epilogue that came with it.

While I would love to list off all of the birthdays, I don’t want this Author’s Note to drag on and on, so I’ll just list off the birthdays of the characters who will be the main stars of this fic.

#1- Shulk’s birthday is June 10th (the release date of the original Xenoblade Chronicles in Japan).

#2- Reyn’s birthday is March 26th. I already explained the significance of this date earlier, so I won’t repeat myself.

#3- Fiora’s birthday is May 29th (the release date of Xenoblade Chronicles: Definitive Edition, A.K.A today!)

If you want to know the birthdates of Dunban, Sharla, Melia, and Riki, let me know!

As for headcanon #2, this is what it is: Shulk, Reyn, and Fiora have a tradition of tickling each other on their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose birthday it is, they will all get the chance to tickle each other. If you would like to learn more about this headcanon, check out this post!

Now that I have explained my two headcanons, I would like to give one last bit of information before we move on to the fic.

Normally, when I write a fic, Shulk is the lee. However, I wanted to try something different with this fic.

This time, it’s Fiora’s turn to be the lee. Shulk will be one of the two lers in this fic, the other being Reyn (though I suppose that’s obvious, given the fact that I told you my headcanon for Reyn’s birthdate). This is going to be fun to write.

Oh, and one last thing: There are major spoilers for Xenoblade Chronicles in this fic. Do not read this fic if you haven’t beaten the game yet.

Alright, I think it’s about time that we get to the fic. So without further ado, let’s go! Happy 1-year anniversary, Xenoblade Chronicles: Definitive Edition!

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

When was the last time she had slept like this?

When was the last time she had a good night's rest with no nightmares or monsters to keep her up at night? When was the last time she dreamed of her friends and the wholesome mischief they would get themselves into? When was the last time she slept in in the morning?

And most importantly, when was the last time she had slept in her Homs body?

For months on end, she was afraid. Afraid of how others would view her in her mechanical body. Afraid that both her friends and brother would betray her. Afraid of losing control over herself once more (even though Meyneth was careful with her body, never putting it in harm's way). Afraid that at any moment, she would fall asleep forever.

But now… she was free. Free from the cold metal that once gave her a second chance at life. Free from the sorrow that filled her heart every time she thought about her shortening life span. Free from the emptiness that came with the inability to feel the physical touch of an organic life form. Free from the gods that once ruled the world.

She thanked them. She thanked everyone and everything that made her life as a Mechon more bearable. She thanked those who gave her the courage to fight on, even with the threat of Zanza and the constant feeling that death was coming for her.

But most of all, she thanked Shulk, Melia, and Linada for finding the Biotic Regeneration Device, the very machine that saved her life.

The sudden loss of her mechanical body meant that she could feel certain physical sensations again. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had felt hunger, thirst, or extreme fatigue. Sure, she had felt tired as a Mechon, but that paled in comparison to the exhaustion she had been feeling since the day that she woke up from the chamber. She hadn’t felt this tired since the day that her brother returned home from the Battle of Sword Valley.

She had felt this way for at least a week now. She knew that some of it came from all of the walking she did when she was tasked to find those who needed help with the reconstruction efforts in New Colony 9, but when she thought about all of the times that she had helped people in the old world prior to the Mechon raid on the old Colony 9, she knew that the majority of her fatigue came from an entirely different source.

She didn’t know for sure what the cause was, but she figured that it had something to do with the fact that she was in a mechanical body for months. She was still adjusting to the body she never thought she would be in again, so it wouldn’t surprise her if the fatigue went away on its own in about a month. For now, she would have to deal with the excessive amount of sleepiness.

Right now, she was asleep, burned out from her walks across the new yet all-so-familiar colony she called home. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue with any of her companions. All of them knew that she was much more tired than she had ever been in her life, and they would usually let her be when she slept into the late hours of the morning.

However, today was a little bit different.

Today was Fiora’s birthday, and she had slept in. Shulk and Reyn were having none of this.

“What do you say we do to wake her up?” Reyn asked the former visionary.

“Hm… We could gently shake her until she wakes up, but she won’t be happy about that…”

“Should we spook her?”

“No! We are not doing that!”

“Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to propose an idea.”

Shulk glared at him for a bit before he put his hand on his chin in thought.

“Scaring her isn’t a good idea, but maybe we’ll have to do something that will jolt her awake…”

“Seems like it’s the only way to wake her these days…”

Reyn mulled over a possible solution. After a few seconds of silence between him and his closest friend, he was suddenly hit with an idea.

“Wait, I got it!”

“Oh dear Bionis… what is it, Reyn?” Shulk said, playfully teasing the older Hom.

“First of all, don’t give me that attitude,” He poked the younger male in the bicep, “second of all, do you remember a certain tradition that you, Fiora and I used to have?”

Shulk rummaged his brain for a memory that would provide the answer to the soldier’s question. Eventually, he found it.

“Are you talking about… that tradition?”

“Huh? Can you be more specific?” Reyn was a bit confused, not understanding the vagueness of the heir’s response, before he noticed the blush that was forming on his face.

“Oh, so you do remember that tradition?”

“Yeah…”

Reyn ruffled his hair before he asked him, “So what do you think? Should we do it?”

“It might work… And even if it doesn’t, we’ll tickle her anyway at some point in the day. Tradition and that.”

“So is that a yes?”

Shulk nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s a yes.”

The auburn-haired male gave him a thumbs up. “Alrighty then, let’s go and wake up Fiora!”

The two of them left the Weapons Development Lab and strolled through the streets of New Colony 9. As they walked by, Dunban, Sharla, Melia, and Riki all greeted them, asking if they could wish Fiora a “Happy Birthday” on their behalf (all four of them were busy with the reconstruction, and Dunban didn’t have the heart to wake his sister up from a well-deserved sleep). They told them that they would, and kept on walking.

Eventually, they arrived at Dunban’s House. Reyn went up to the front door and turned the knob. He wasn’t surprised to find that the door was unlocked. He quietly pushed the door open and tip-toed inside the house. He waited in the kitchen for a few seconds, listening for the blonde woman’s footsteps, before he turned to Shulk to tell him that she was still asleep. The scientist carefully stepped inside the room.

They sneaked up the stairs, careful to avoid the spots that made the steps creak, and found the young girl sleeping in the bed.

“Ready?” Reyn whispered to his fellow Hom.

“Ready.” He answered

The older male slowly lifted the blanket off of Fiora’s body, revealing that she was wearing a Dyed Top and Dyed Bottoms. She usually put these two pieces of clothing on when she was about to go to bed, and wore her normal outfit during the day.

Reyn looked over at Shulk and whispered, “You go for the knees, and I’ll go for the sides, alright?”

“Got it.” The heir whispered back.

Reyn carefully reached over to pull Fiora’s shirt up and slowly drifted his hands towards her sides, while Shulk made his fingers walk up to her knees.

As soon as their fingers made contact with her skin, they lightly wiggled them.

At first, she didn’t react to the touch, far too deep in her sleep to notice anything that came from the real world, but in ten seconds, she finally let out a couple of giggles.

“Hehehehe… Stahahahahahp…” She made an attempt to swat at the boys’ hands, but she didn’t put enough strength into the swats, and was therefore unable to stop the sensation.

Soon enough, her eyes fluttered open, still giggling at the sensation that was coursing through her body. Shulk and Reyn took their hands off of her as she drifted towards wakefulness.

“Shulk…? Reyn…?”

“Good morning, sleepy head!” Reyn sang, ruffling Fiora’s hair exactly like he did with Shulk’s back at the Weapons Development Lab.

“Hands off, you big oaf…~” She teased, earning a pout from the soldier and a laugh from the scientist.

“Happy Birthday, Fiora!” Shulk said, pulling her up into a sitting position before hugging her.

“Aw, thank you, Shulk!” She replied cheerfully, then turned her attention over to Reyn.

“No, Fiora, I didn’t forget your birthday this year.” Reyn said with a faint blush and an exasperated tone.

Fiora had every reason to doubt him. Normally, Reyn would forget about her birthday for at least half of the day before someone would remind him.

“Heheheh… I don’t believe you one bit- ah!” Fiora was about to sass her muscular friend, but she was cut off by Shulk pushing her onto the bed.

“You can laugh at him later, Fiora. For now, we have a tradition to attend to.”

He quickly lost the former Mechon, “What? What are you talking about?”

“What? You don’t remember our old tradition?” A tinge of dismay flashed across Reyn’s face, but in a split second, it had vanished. “What do you think, Shulk? Should we help her remember?”

The younger blonde nodded as a smirk grew on his lips. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Reyn was about to tickle her underarms, but Shulk stopped him.

“Hang on, do you know how long we’re supposed to tickle her?”

Fiora heard that second-to-last word and immediately began to panic. “Wait, what did you say?”

Reyn ignored her (as did Shulk) and answered the heir’s question. “Yeah, she’s nineteen years old now, so we’ll tickle her for nineteen minutes, correct?”

“You got it! Now, are you ready?”

“You bet I am! Let’s bring this tradition back!”

Fiora could only squirm and giggle as Reyn grabbed her wrists and pinned them down with his left hand. Meanwhile, Shulk sat down on her legs and moved his body until he knew for sure that his weight would keep her legs pinned.

“Nohohoho, guhihihihihiys!”

Shulk tsked at her and slipped into his role as a ler, “You should save your breath, Fiora, because you’re going to need it~”

The unexpected tease from the former visionary was the last thing she heard before she was suddenly attacked by two pairs of hands. One pair went for her underarms, while the other snuck up her shirt and pinched at her ribs.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Nohohohohohohohoho!” She quickly fell into a laughing fit and tried her hardest to pull her arms down. Unfortunately, Reyn’s grip was far too strong, so she had no choice but to surrender herself to the tickles. Even worse, while she made her attempt to escape, the soldier took advantage of the situation and sped up the tickling every time she stretched her arms out.

“Eep! Reheheheheheyn, stahahahahahahap! Lehehehehehet mehehehe gohohohoho!”

“Sorry, Fiora, but you’re out of luck. There’s still eighteen minutes to go~!”

Fiora squealed as the older male raked his fingers back and forth in her underarms and teased her at the same time. Since when did he become an intimidating tickle monster?

Knowing that she was helpless under Reyn’s hold, she decided to focus her efforts on her legs. Shulk was a bit weaker than Reyn, so she figured that it would be easy for her to knock him off. She laughed and laughed for another two minutes before she made an attempt at lifting her right leg.

However, as soon as she tried to lift it, Shulk countered her by launching an all-out attack on her knees.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not getting away from us~!”

“Whahahahahahahaha! Sihihihihihihihihincehehehehe whehehehehehen dihihihihi yohohohou gehehehehet sohohohoho bohohohohohold?”

“Trust me, if Reyn wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be doing this right now. But since he’s here with me, I’m feeling rather brave.” He moved his right hand to the back of her right knee and began to scratch at the spot, while his left hand skittered across her left kneecap. “Soon, you will fear me~!”

The teasing and tickling from the youngest member of the group nearly broke the helpless woman underneath him.

“Ihihihihihihihihi’m nohohohohohohohot ahahahahahfraihihihihihihid ohohohohohof yohohohoHOHOHO! REHEHEHEHEHEYN, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Reyn broke the laughter dam within her by blowing raspberries into her neck.

“No? No what? What am I doing wrong, Fiora~? Tell me!”

“QUIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE RAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASPBEHEHEHEHEHEHERRIHIHIHIHIES!”

Reyn let out a chuckle, “Sorry, what did you say? I can’t understand you!”

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU KNOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOW WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHT IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHID!”

Shulk shook his head and made his hands jump up to her sides. “Fiora, Reyn doesn’t speak ticklish.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand the ticklish language! I haven’t even studied it, yet!”

Fiora’s mind was about to be lost in the raging river of laughter that spilled from her mouth.

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT!” She accidentally yelled.

Reyn stopped tickling her and put his hand over his heart in mock offense, while Shulk let out an exaggerated gasp and sped his tickling up to the max.

“Fiora! That wasn’t necessary! Shulk, I think we need to punish this rude little birthday girl!”

“I agree, Reyn, but we should save the punishment for the last five minutes. That will straighten her out for sure!”

Fiora had never shivered at Shulk’s words before, but even though all of the tickling, she felt a powerful chill run down her spine.

“WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOES THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT MEHEHEHEHEHEAN, SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHULK?!”

The scientist let out the most threatening laugh she had ever heard from him in her life, “You’ll see~” Then he zipped his hands onto her stomach, releasing a shriek from the back of her throat.

“EEEEE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” She was getting dangerously close to breaking as she endured the barrage of tummy tickles that rained down upon her.

“Ten minutes left, Reyn! Don’t let up just yet!”

“Got it, but we might want to slow it down so Fiora can breathe!”

“Good idea. If my hypothesis is correct, her laughter will turn silent in two minutes, so we should ease up on her so that doesn’t happen.”

Reyn had to laugh at that. Even when he’s tickling someone to death, Shulk would always find a way to be geeky. Fiora probably laughed at that too, but right now, it was impossible to differentiate between her normal laugh and her tickle laugh.

The two boys slowed their fingers down until they were only tracing over her skin, and although she was tittering, she was able to take a dozen, much-needed breathers.

“Yohohohou guys ahahahahare much mohohohohore ehehehvil than Ihihihi thohohohought…”

Reyn took this moment to revel in her words, “Don’t mess with this tickle monster! You’ll regret it when you do, right Fiora?”

Fiora did her best to give him a death stare, but only succeeded in making herself look silly (if Reyn laughing at her was anything to go by).

As per usual, Shulk took the smart route and just facepalmed at Reyn’s behavior.

“That’s a dangerous thought process, Reyn. Don’t forget that she can dish out punishments more dangerous than Zanza.”

That got a shocked response out of the other male, “You sure about that? I don’t think a tickle monster would have anything on a god!”

“I didn’t defeat Zanza on my own, Reyn! Fiora helped, and so did you and the others!”

Reyn wanted to argue back, but found that he couldn’t. Shulk had a point.

“Anyway, we have five minutes left, and you know what that means~”

“Dear Bionis! How did he transition back into his role so effortlessly?!” Well Shulk was right, Fiora would learn to fear him at some point. If he can return to the role of a ler in no time flat, then she would be terrified to know how he would act if he was playing the role of a tickle monster.

“Ohoho, I’ve been waiting for this! Ready for the grand finale, Fiora~?” Reyn asked with an unnervingly innocent tone in his voice.

“N-nohohohoho!”

“Well too bad!” Reyn nearly shouted out at her. He made his hands hover over her neck, while Shulk had his hands over her hips.

“This is part of the tradition, Fiora. When we reach the five-minute mark, we will target the lee’s worst spots until this time is up. We will not make any exceptions, no matter how much you protest against us or beg for us to reconsider.” Shulk explained to her in the most nonchalant and calm voice she had ever heard from the former visionary. The voice was so haunting that even Reyn was shuddering in fear.

“Now, any last words before you meet your end~?” He asked her. Silence was the only thing he got in response.

“Nothing? Very well, then. Reyn, on the count of three.”

“A-alright then…”

Shulk looked over and raised an eyebrow at his slight stutter before he returned his attention to the poor woman beneath him.

“Three.” The two of them brought their hands closer to her in perfect sync with each other.

“Two.” They finally made contact with her skin.

“One.” Fiora was once again in an anticipatory giggle fit.

“Now!” All hell broke loose.

At long last, Fiora broke under the intense tickling that shook her to the core.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! WHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIY WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOULD YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU GUHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIYS DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS?!”

Reyn was going to answer her, but Shulk butted in and only said the word, “Tradition.”

They both knew that any further teasing would send the former Face unit into a fit of silent laughter, so they stayed silent for the remaining five minutes. The only sound that could be heard in the house was Fiora’s uncontrollable laughter.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her, they let up. The tickling abruptly ended, Reyn let go of her wrists, and Shulk got off of her legs.

She laid there, chest heaving up and down as she struggled to regain her composure, while the scientist checked on her legs.

“Can you feel this, Fiora?” he asked as he squeezed her leg in a way that would not be painful or tickly.

“Yes… I can... feel it.” She told him in between breaths.

“You alright?” Reyn questioned her. “Feeling woozy?”

“No, I’m… fine.”

All three of them sat there in near-silence as Fiora’s breathing returned to normal. When it did, she spoke.

“That was impressive. I didn’t think you two had it in you to tickle and tease me like that.”

Reyn objected, “Hey, I’ve had that potential for years! If there’s anyone you should be impressed by, it would be him!” He pointed at Shulk, “I had no idea he could speak like that! It creeped me out!”

The younger boy couldn’t help the prideful smile on his face. “I learned it from watching and listening to all of you guys.”

“So that’s why you sounded like Melia towards the end there!” Fiora exclaimed, “I was trying to figure that out!”

“Oh, uh… That wasn’t intentional.” Shulk professed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He often imitated those that he loved on an unconscious level, and apparently, that’s exactly what he did when he teased Fiora.

“Sure it wasn’t.” she countered.

“Hey guys,” Reyn spoke up, “I think we should go and find the others. They might need help with the reconstruction.”

Fiora was a little concerned about the possibility of them working all day today, considering what day it was. “Do you think we’ll have time to celebrate my birthday today?”

“I think so,” he answered, “They told us to tell you that they said ‘Happy Birthday’, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought about that.”

“Oh! Well, I think we should go and find them so we can talk about it! Just give me a few minutes to change!”

“Okay then! Shulk and I will be downstairs waiting!” He turned to the other boy, only to find him staring at the bottom of the staircase.

“Shulk?” He didn’t get an answer.

Reyn didn’t notice it (or perhaps he might have forgotten it), but Shulk knew what was coming next. According to the tradition, once the birthday boy/girl was free from his or her tickle session, then…

“But first…” Yep, he called it.

He turned around and found that she was still sitting on the bed, looking at him and Reyn with an evil glint in her eyes. He knew what was coming.

“W-what?” Reyn stammered out. He was about to turn and make a run for it, but Fiora’s reflexes were too fast, and she caught his arm before he even had the chance to take a single step away from her.

“If I remember correctly, it’s your turn to be tickled.”

The soldier’s eyes widened, “W-wait, so you DO remember our tradition?”

“Yep, I was just pretending to not know about it. I’ll admit, the results I got from that were surprising,” She glanced at the younger Hom, who was as still as a statue, “...but I knew that the reveal would rile you guys up. I know that this will make you ten times more ticklish, so I figured that I would go for it.”

She got up off of the bed and tugged at Reyn’s arm, trying to pull him onto the spot that she was in mere minutes ago. “Shulk, can you help me?”

“On it.”

In no time at all, Reyn’s laughter would fill the home. After that, it would be Shulk’s turn.

They may be in a new world, but they knew that they would adjust to it just fine, because even though everything has changed, the past would never be forgotten.

#tickling #xenoblade chrontickles #lee!Fiora #ler!Shulk #ler!Reyn #SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER I WROTE A NEW FIC!#okay that was a bit over the top #but seriously I'm really proud of this fic #WARNING: Beware of Grins is still in the works #but for now I think this fic will suffice #happy one year anniversary XC:DE!#I still haven't played the base game yet #but I did beat Future Connected last year #hence why I mentioned the Bionis Shoulder in my Silver Linings from Silver Eyes fic #I would like to play the base game #but I don't think I'll be able to spend a good amount of time on it due to college #oh well I'll get to it at some point #for now I'll just continue the Sword & Shield DLC and work on the Crown Tundra #I started that a few days ago

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years ago

Text

Subtleties of a Suitor (Part 1 of 2)

Summary: Pre-calamity AU where Zelda’s powers awaken in time, but not everything is back to normal after Calamity Ganon is defeated.

Note: This is all @intangiblyyourswrites‘s fault. Also, the second part is NSFW -which also happens to be Kristie’s fault. Enjoy!

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Scrawling ink coated the underside of her hand and left light imprints on the edge of the paper. That paper was bound within leather covers that rarely left the Princess’s desk. It was a journal of upmost confidence; containing her deepest secrets and cresting moments of happiness. The highs and lows of her life caught between compressed papyrus.

It was hardly secretive that her lows were concentrated in the years before, caught in the repetitive cycle of failing expectations that were handed down to her from birth. This desk and this journal were Princess Zelda’s small reprieve. Even going as far as referring to it as an old friend because it felt better to write with purpose than to speak nothings into a void.

My dearest friend,

A worry line creased her forehead. The nameless friend was so accustomed to moments of happiness nowadays, it felt alarming to her that she was writing with distress once more.

These days have been nothing short of harrowing. In my last letter, I was convinced that he finally understood my intentions after Calamity Ganon was sealed away. I thought-

She paused her pen strokes and glared at the page, willing herself to connect thoughts to words and words to paper.

We don’t meet anymore, we haven’t since before the monster was sealed away. Even though the night prior haunted my dreams for weeks following my expressed wishes to cease these small moments of privacy. No matter how sweet and innocent they could be. As you know, in my heart of hearts I can’t bind him to me when-

When Zelda could never be his. When, in times of great enlightenment and prosperity, their fates have crossed and her father now sees him only as a valuable combatant in his army. When destinies have been fulfilled and they were no use to one another.

They both knew this in the beginning, but with the veil of ignorance and Zelda’s everflowing failure, she was convinced they were fated to die with the kingdom. It was a simple case of action and reaction. If she didn’t unlock her sealing powers, then Calamity Ganon would not be defeated.

The knowledge most likely drew out their passion. Pages upon pages recounted shaky hands and blushing cheeks that glowed hot and bright against starry skies. A string of months where she felt more warm than she had ever been and more loved than she thought she deserved.

Then, a week after the Calamity, when Link was pressing her against the railing of an empty stairwell far from the celebratory festivities, she broke their kiss after her guilt grew too heavy for her chest to bear. Zelda will never be able to forget the unmasked hurt on his face as she thickly told him that they couldn’t do this anymore. Among it all, Zelda told him she loved him.

I was under the impression he understood. Father offered Link a promotion and he didn’t even wait a day to think about it. The next evening another man was waiting by my door and of course it shocked me. A part of me wanted to be belligerent when Link hadn’t bothered to ask, another part was more than understanding. But now?

Now I’m rethinking everything.

It started two weeks ago.

The court was lively. Since Calamity Ganon’s appearance and subsequent defeat, Hyrule Castle had its fair share of celebrations. Three months later, the Zora was being hosted within its walls. Without looming dread over her head, Princess Zelda found herself in more social circles. The Zoran princess and Champion, Mipha, became an especially close contact. As opposing as the two princesses were, they had cultivated a solid friendship. Zelda assisted Mipha with fitting into Hylian customs and Mipha was a fantastic listener.

“Link hasn’t said anything about it to me,” Mipha said gently, swinging her little brother in her arms. Prince Sidon made a disgruntled noise and reached out towards Zelda once more.

The small prince smoothed the trouble in her brow as she heaved him in her arms. “Well maybe it’s for the best. We should both move on.”

They were taking turns about the court, trying to spend the dying summer days. Sidon giggled and reached out to his sister.. Mipha seemed to be debating what to say before opting for nothing at all and looked across the room. Her Hylian companion followed her gaze to find Link communing with her father and few other Zora. It was typical for him to parade around the Hero of Hyrule as if he were some trophy.

“I don’t know, Zelda,” Mipha softly said beside her. A joke from Link made the group laugh and suddenly the blond caught her eye. As if stung, Zelda looked at the marble tiles in front of her. She scorned herself when her mind would drift from the fact that he wasn’t wearing his Champion’s Tunic. “His burden is lifted, yes, but it’s not like him to so easily let go of someone.”

When Zelda didn’t respond, Mipha tried to reassure her. “I could be wrong. If anything, we can refer to Lady Urbosa.”

As they walked, they soon found themselves amongst a throng of Zoran and Hylian ladies who began to gossip about the affluential bachelors in the room. Although she was physically there with polite smiles galore, her head was miles from the court. There was something about wealth they were talking about when all went silent.

“Master Link!” a woman exclaimed, “What a pleasant surprise!”

Suddenly, Zelda was back with slight vertigo. The group moved from her and began asking a dizzying amount of questions.

“Tell us, how frightful was that monster?”

An excited Zoran was nearing jumping out of her draped fabrics. “Heavens! Recall to us how you slayed the dreadful Calamity Ganon, please sir.”

“Oh goodness, Catherine, not with my weak nerves.”

Why hadn’t they asked Zelda those questions? She was there too!

The man seemed caught up in the storm of women and it occurred to Zelda that she had the opportunity to slip away amongst the chaos. Right when she discreetly bid Mipha goodbye, Link began speaking.

“You’re all too kind. I’m afraid I’m not a very good storyteller,” he wore a graceful smile, but she could see the anxiety behind his eyes. She knew him. Then, she saw the skies in his eyes and any desire to leave dissipated. “I can tell you that Princess Zelda saved my life.”

All eyes fell on her and she felt the acute urge to stare at her feet. Her voice sounded foreign, “You say the most fantastic hyperboles, Captain.”

Those were the first words she has said to him beyond common pleasantries in three months.

“I assure you that there was no embellishment in the slightest.” Link was looking at her along with the rest of the ladies.

“Ah, well,” Zelda trailed off, “It was only fair when you saved mine.”

That caused a sea of hushed whispers around them. The woman that separated them spoke up excitedly, “Will you allow us a story or two, sir?”

“My apologies, I should be off to the barracks right now,” Link said, meeting her again. “I came to bid Her Highness goodbye.”

Another wave of whispers as the woman between them shuffled off quickly. Confusion ebbed at the Princess, but refined manners kept it at bay. Link reached out to her and she instinctively offered her hand, but his fingers grazed the underside of her forearm, the tips of his glove brushing down its length before finally clasping her palm. As he bent down low, he held her gaze, and it felt like they were the only people in the room. Warm lips pressed a long, searing kiss to her hand, and it revived the sensation of those same lips drifting up the inside of her thighs.

He pulled back, “You look lovely this evening, Princess. I hope we cross paths again.”

Zelda’s lips drew tight together and she nodded chastely, not trusting her voice to speak. Footsteps on marbled signified his leave and she looked at Mipha, who stared back with bewilderment. The two princesses thought the same question.

What was that?

Her ink quill scratched against the paper from added pressure, she readjusted her grip.

I thought about it for the rest of the evening. That one moment dredged up emotions I spent weeks burying. Logically, I had chalked it up to basic biology; chemicals in my brain that were ultimately a hindrance to my responsibilities. For a few hours, that had worked until I found out that that night would be the first of many where he would bid me goodnight.

The next day was no better because Father decided he was honored enough to dine with us.

“I’m so glad you can join us, Captain!” King Rhoam boisterously said. “There is a seat next to Princess Zelda.”

The woman stared holes into her empty plate as the chair beside her grated against the floor. When her father coughed to clear his throat she glanced up, “Isn’t it nice that he has joined us, Zelda?”

“Oh, yes,” she smiled tightly, hardly meeting their eyes. “It’s good to see you, Link.”

Her hands folded tightly in her lap. Zelda didn’t hear him reply, so she assumed he demonstrated his signature nod. Perhaps he didn’t want to be there either. Before the Calamity, he was never permitted to sit at the royal table, much less next to the princess. He was a simple soldier then, she reminded herself, someone with promise. Princess Zelda assumed this was another way for her father to show off the Hero of Hyrule to the lords and ladies at the table.

The thought made her bite the inside of her cheek. Didn’t he deserve better? Had he been asked what he wanted?

Supper crawled by painfully. Typically, she didn’t mind if someone sat by her but she hadn’t realized how common it was to brush arms with a neighbor. Each time they touched, she’d involuntarily flinch away. Sometimes he would mumble his apologies that were a little too close to her ear.

Like all things, the torture ceased and as Zelda was about to excuse herself, dessert was announced.

“Where are you off to?” Link said, watching as she was already half-risen from her chair.

The Princess swallowed her curses. “I’m excusing myself,” she lilted, not quite leveling with him. “A lady should keep her figure.”

It was a bold-faced lie. She knew that he knew she loved sweets and would easily endure three courses of her most hated dishes to reach them. Zelda dared him to say anything. The door to the kitchen swung open and revealed several servants. Her father suddenly eyed her oddly, “Are you not planning to stay? I requested fruitcake for this evening on your behalf.”

Oh.

Link looked away as she flopped back in her seat. Despite the rolling in her stomach, her cheeks flared in embarrassment and she rushed to say, “Thank you, Father.”

As much as Zelda wished it would, the issue hadn’t immediately folded. When a large cake was placed on the table, she had the full intention of taking the slice to her room under the guise of studying a fallen Guardian’s laser module. It would be an easy solution to this problem. The cake knife was in her field of view and she went for it, only for another’s to brush her hand away.

With accusation in her eyes, Zelda watched the smallest smile - almost unnoticeable - cross Link’s face.

“What are you doing?” she said under her breath, glancing around the table to assure no one was watching. It hadn’t seemed to be the case, but this was exactly what she didn’t want. The Princess knew this court and though they’re opinion of her had shifted, the lords and ladies would cling to any rumor no matter how innocent his actions were.

His eyes were carefully guarded and if he had been anyone else, she would have been offended by how large the slice of fruitcake was when he set it on her plate . Right when she moved to stand, he caught her with his words.

“Who is it that has you caring about the way you look?”

At the head of the table, King Rhoam was laughing at something an advisor said. By now, it would look uncouth to leave the table mid-course. With a heavy breath, Princess Zelda pulled her chair in and spread her napkin over her skirts. The cake was layered with lemon icing, which would usually make her exponentially excited. Her lips upturned into a soft frown. He shouldn’t ask questions like that. It wasn’t fair.

Annoyance surged into her chest. “Does it matter?”

He was quiet for a moment and conversations from others dominated the air between them. The fruitcake tasted stale in her mouth.

“Yes.”

She wasn’t looking at him - she couldn’t. A stirring feeling lodged itself in her throat and threatened to bring about everything she tried to undo. Memories of laughing so hard in Hyrule Field, doubled over in her saddle from something ridiculous he had said; learning in that moment that he looked at her like she was the moon on a cloudless night; his hands twirling her into a circle besides a campfire to the sound of her humming ballroom tunes.

He had asked me if I fell out of love with him or he had hurt me in some way. I hadn’t and I wasn’t then and I am not now. It wasn’t just about me, but him as well. If it came out to the court, to the public, that we were having an affair, of course I would be criticized. My character put into question and subsequently tarnished for as long as it stayed in the minds of my peers, but nothing would happen to my title. I would still be the Princess of Hyrule.

Link would be scrutinized and his reputation ruined. He could be subject to expellment and be banished from the castle or Castle Town entirely. That was a fear I had harbored and for me to perpetuate our relationship for selfish indulgence… that isn’t love. At least, not a love he deserved.

Daintily, Zelda set her fork beside her plate and partially turned to him. The man had been expecting her as if this was any ordinary conversation, his fork pressing down the spongy dessert instead of eating it.

“Only because you care so much,” she uttered with a stiff back. “The royal family of Labrynna will be hosted in Hyrule Castle in just a few days. I haven’t seen their prince since I was a child.”

His expression hadn’t changed, but he ceased his movements with the fork. Guilt pricked at the edge of her consciousness. Link placed his fork on his plate and reached up. Immediately, her faced flushed hotly and felt his coarse fingertips brushed her cheek. There wasn’t any movement to indicate that she would pull away from his touch.

Then, he smirked. “There was cream on your face.”

It was like he didn’t care! I was mortified.

Her ink pen ran underneath the last word several times to create a line deep enough to bleed onto the next page. The worry line on her forehead had creased deeper as she recounted the events that had happened.

I should have made it clear to him after dessert was over, but when we were taking leave, Father got caught up in a conversation with him. I couldn’t confront him at that point and when Link came to my door again to say goodnight, I shouldn’t have opened it. And when I did, I should have told him: Link, this is inappropriate and I’ve told you that I didn’t want this to continue. Especially in front of my father, no less!

But I didn’t.

Zelda’s face burned and she couldn’t get herself to write down that she might have liked it. She was someone who was both stubborn inside and out, and even her feelings wouldn’t leave with tumultuous effort on Zelda’s part. What was she supposed to say? That she really does miss him and that every second around him chipped deeper in the hole he left?

It was rude. Irresponsible. Ungentlemanly and without regards to propriety. OR my feelings for that matter! What if the way I felt about him is different? Three months is a long time.

And then she remembered his self-satisfied smirk when her face was hot under his hand. Her handwriting grew more frantic against the paper and she had to consciously apply less pressure before the quill-tip punctured through the surface.

Her mind shifted to the days after.

Labrynna was hosted in Hyrule Castle amongst continued celebrations of Hyrule’s success. Their King and Queen were welcomed with open arms, overwhelmed by the jubilations of Hyrulean citizens. Along with them was their son and daughter: Prince Tyrion and Princess Aurra.

Prince Tyrion had written to Zelda several times after the Calamity about their shared childhood, a time she hadn’t remembered at all herself and referred to Impa more than once to verify his stories and to write back to adequately pretend she had. The Labrynnian princess was someone Zelda wasn’t aware of whatsoever and even her father had leaned in during the processions to ask of her name.

Aurra, however, was acutely aware of Zelda. More importantly, she knew of the Hylian Champion who slew a monstrous being of myths.

Not long after making her introductions to Princess Zelda and King Rhoam, she skipped to who was at King Rhoams side and curtsied. Before Zelda could see Link’s reaction, Prince Tyrion took up her view. She offered the appropriate pleasantries and allowed him to take her hand, but she didn’t miss when Link took Princess Aurra’s.

She made note that he didn’t bring it to his lips.

Through the day, she didn’t wander from Prince Tyrion’s side. He was an interesting man; well read and well traveled. She found him to be a fantastic conversationalist nor was she blind to his charm. Dark eyes paired with brunet hair that was shorn close to his ears, which were notably shorter than any Hylian’s - a common trait amongst his people.

However, he was also arrogant.

As King Rhoam led the party through the castle grounds, a level above the barracks and training grounds, Tyrion spoke up.

“You know, Your Majesty, I am well trained in the arts of combat,” he said with a slight smile.

Rhoam raised a brow, turning slightly to face his daughter and the Prince. Two men sparred below, each clash of their swords echoing off the walls. The King of Labrynna nodded in affirmation, a certain pride in his face. “Yes, it’s custom for our prodigy to learn the blade from young ages. Tyrion has a special affinity to it.”

“Fascinating. I hope to see your skill during your stay, young man.”

“Well,” the smile of the Prince’s face and he gestured to Link behind him. “I would be honored to spar with the Hero of Hyrule.”

Princess Aurra stopped her chattering with Link and grabbed the sleeve of his blue tunic, “Oh, brother, you will surely lose. Isn’t that right, Link?”

Zelda swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with her familiarity with him after only hours. Even more was how unbothered he was by it.

“It surely would be quite the duel,” Rhoam mused, “As long as it has your approval, Captain.”

Link nodded Tyrion’s way, graciously, “The honor would be all mine, Your Highness.”

He said it to the Prince, but his eyes meandered to Zelda’s.

The preparation took an hour and by the time Princess took her seat overlooking the training grounds, the sun casted a golden glow over them. King Rhoam was incredibly eager for the duel, shooting secret smiles at his daughter as the two men shook hands below.

It was clear who would win to the Princess, Link was at the top of his class even before he became her attendant. She scolded herself, though, and told herself that she shouldn’t underestimate Prince Tyrion so soon.

Dimly, she could hear the two opponents giving their regards to one another. The Prince had changed into an elaborately designed sparring outfit that appeared to have leather padding laced at his forearms. Link, however, changed only into Hylian trousers.

Princess Aurra hummed next to Zelda, “Is that the magical sword? It looks normal to me.”

It wasn’t as he had chosen a Knight’s Broadsword to match Tyrion’s.

“It isn’t the Master Sword. We returned it to the pedestal after felling Calamity Ganon.”

Aurra blinked, “Together?”

Zelda politely nodded. That sword was an extension of Link and she remembered comforting him after he realized its purpose was served. The night of, she felt his tears through her nightgown and told him he was more than his destiny - they both were.

After Link gave his regards to King Rhoam and Princess Zelda, a man who had sparred prior held an arm out and shouted to begin the duel.

“Oh, how exciting!” Aurra squealed.

The two men circled each other like vultures. Prince Tyrion was the first to push forward, a simple feint that Link sidestepped. He was testing the waters. Then, the Prince leapt forward and went for his opponent’s side, who parried without losing ground. There were several short exchanges of the Hero being passive, while Tyrion was assertive.

Before Zelda knew it, she was gripping the sides of her chair as they danced. Tyrion was grinning wildly at his stoic opponent. He hadn’t been bluffing earlier, he was skilled. The Hylian Princess had seened Link spar time and time again, never did it take so long for him to disarm his opponent in some manner. The sun beat down on them, creating glistening sweat on their skin that bled darkly through their clothes.

Suddenly, Tyrion had space for a large horizontal slash before Link could recover from a parry. Zelda let out a yelp and watched him duck into a lateral roll, regaining his senses and plenty of ground between them.

Tyrion harked out a laugh, “You are brilliant, sir!”

They were panting now and the comment brought a sideways smile to Link’s lips. “I appreciate the regard, Your Highness. You’re a remarkable swordsman.”

They took a moment to breathe and Link did the unthinkable. His Champion tunic was discarded easily to the ground and Zelda held her breath when his eyes found hers on the perch where she sat.

Princess Aurra gasped softly. Zelda didn’t blame her. Hard lines on his stomach were only more prominent in the sun and his chest heaved with his hard breaths. The lack of coverage revealed the flex of his arm as he readjusted his grip on the blade.

It wasn’t an oddity that he was now half naked. Tyrion had long let the strings that laced the neckline of his tunic loosen, leaving a large portion of his chest exposed. Considering that they were already in the heat of midsummer, the sight of shirtless men should be expected at this end of the castle. But Link, well, he was always different.

The Prince of Labrynna lunged forward with a grunt, thrusting his blade out. Where Tryion was tactful, almost mechanical, in his movements, Link was fluid. He took his opponents strikes like water, flowing into the gaps of his defenses and reevaluating in a moment’s notice. It truly was an art in Zelda’s eyes, a very dangerous art.

Much different than anything Tyrion had done, he brought his blade upward in a sideways slashing arch with a loud shout. Princess Zelda’s heart surged in her chest. Link grit his teeth and threw his weight back into a flip, landing on his feet.

Surprise registered in Tyrion’s eyes and couldn’t recover fast enough when Link brought his blade against the hilt of His Highness’s broadsword. The blade was sent skidding along the dirt.

“Ah,” Tyrion brought his hand up to further demonstrate his lack of weapon. “I yield.”

It was then that Zelda realized she was holding her breath. Her father and his guests had all stood and applauded, so she followed suit.

“Good show!” Aurra leaned on the stone wall. “Very well done!”

The two men clasped hands again with a few words of respect. The Hylian princess watched a short regaling and found an opportunity to slip away from the processions without another glance at the arena.

#wow look at allllll those words #loz #zelink #zelda #link #zelink fanfiction #fanfiction #loz fanfiction #legend of zelda #ashleyswrittenwords #subtleties of a suitor

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clintbartonswife · 4 years ago

Text

burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier, Yennefer x Triss Summary: Finally safe, Jaskier struggles at the thought of being reunited with Geralt and Yennefer, all the while recovering from the mental and physical trauma inflicted during his stay with Nilfgaard. Meanwhile, Geralt and Ciri deal with their guilt. Notes: mentions of injury, recovery, self-doubt, round-about mentions of rape (no vivid descriptions but it’s hinted that it happened) masterlist || part one || part two || part four

The first thing he noticed was the softness surrounding him, the comforting warmth so different to anything he had experienced the past couple of weeks. It felt like he was sinking into a marshmallow, his fragile body being supported by a cocoon of blankets.

‘I must be dead’ he figured, cracking one eye open, only to be greeted by a blurry image of a small girl sat in a chair by his bedside, hair silver as the moon.

“Melitele?”

His voice came out cracked and sore, and the bard winced at the harsh sound cutting through the once peaceful silence.

“You’re awake!” she said, rising up from her seat, "I’ll go and get Triss”

As the girl fleed from the room, her face finally registered with the bard.

“Oh fuck”

If the princess of Cintra was here, Geralt couldn’t be far behind.

“Nice to see you’re awake”

Jaskier turned to face the newcomer, a pretty woman with an even prettier smile. A few months ago he would’ve probably tried to flirt, but for now he just gave the woman a smile, nodding in greeting.

“You were in bad shape when you arrived here” the woman Triss said, dragging the sheet down and revealing his chest, “I managed to stop the internal bleeding but I used too much of my energy to get rid of the surface wounds. I could try and heal them today if you’d like?”

“Surface-” Jaskier cut himself off, scrambling to look at his hands, the image of his broken fingers still clear in his mind.

Sensing his panic, Triss moved slightly closer, “that was one of the first things we fixed. I was told it was important”

The bard sighed in relief, “Thank you”

Triss startled at the sound of his voice, narrowing her eyes in concern, “Did they harm your throat? I could try and fix that? I know your singing is important to you”

‘watch how he sings for me’

Jaskier winced, shakily raising a hand to touch his throat, nodding gently.

“Okay”

The sorceress smiled reassuringly, approaching the side of the bed, “may I?”

“Yes”

He closed his eyes as she reached towards him, her fingers skimming lightly along his adam’s apple, the tingling sensation of magic working around the ache until it had all-but disappeared.

“There” her voice seemed tight, though Jaskier chalked it up to magic-exhaustion.

“Thank you” he said, the words coming much easier now.

Triss just nodded, smile looking slightly more forced, “I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’re hungry - Ciri will bring up lunch in a few minutes”

Jaskier just nodded once more, eyes trained on his fingers, watching as he flexed and moved the joints without pain, the relief still palpable in the air.

“How is he?”

"As I’ve told you every time, he’s fine. He will live”

Geralt sighed, relaxing back into his chair.

“I don't understand why you don't go and talk to him” Ciri frowned, “You saved him after all”

The Witcher just shook his head, glaring at the floor, “He wont want to see me. We didn't end things well”

Ciri huffed, making her distaste of the answer clear, before picking up the bowl of soup and heading for Jaskier’s room.

As soon as she left, Geralt redirecting his gaze back to Triss, “How is he really?”

“Physically, he’s fine, truly, but the rest is going to take time Geralt. He’s traumatised... I think they - his throat was bruised. Not from the outside but the inside. We’re dealing with more than just surface wounds here”

Geralt couldn't contain the growl that ripped from his chest, fists clenching.

“No need to growl at Triss” Yennefer said, breezing into the room and standing vigil behind the other woman, “We know the people that took Jaskier were piece of shits and they’re dead now. They cant hurt him anymore”

“But they did. Because of me”

“Don’t get big-headed Geralt, not everything in the world is about you. Nilfgaard are pieces of shit. This is what they do. Those people would’ve hurt someone, and Jaskier is good at getting himself in trouble”

“He sings about Witchers because of me -”

“And if he met Eskel first he would sing of Witchers because of Eskel, this is not your fault Geralt. So please stop your whining”

“I pushed him away”

Yennefer sighed, crossing her arms, “Yes you did do that. That is on you, but you would’ve split up eventually for winter and this would’ve happened anyway”

Lost for words, Geralt just nodded, averting his eyes back to the floor.

“He’s going to be alright” Triss added, voice soft, “He will, but at some point you’re going to have to let him know that he’s not alone”

With that, the two women left the room, leaving Geralt to his brooding thoughts, the guilt crashing over him in waves.

“Jaskier”

The bard jolted from his daze, sitting up straight, “Please not again!”

A shocked silence descended over the room as he regained his bearings, the past day returning to him, “Oh - oh your highness I apologise”

“No, it’s my fault” the girl said, moving closer, a tray held in her hand, “I shouldn’t have woken you like that.”

Jaskier shook his head, slowly pushing himself in to an upright position.

“I’ve brought you soup” Ciri smiled, placing the tray over his lap once he settled, “I helped make it this morning”

“Well then I’m sure it will be wonderful” Jaskier replied, his courtly charm re-emerging.

Ciri bounced happily on the balls of her feet, placing the water on the beside table, “Would you like to eat alone? I can stay if you want”

The bard smiled and gestured for her to sit down on the chair beside the be, glad for the company.

The two sat in companionable silence for roughly a minute before Ciri burst, the question spilling out of her mouth in a rush, “I think you may have played at my court a few years ago - I recognised your face in my dreams - did you play at my name day a few years ago?”

Setting down his spoon, Jaskier turned to the princess, “Yes I did, every year up until you turned 8. Calanthe decided she didn't want me returning so after that I wasn't invited back to court”

“Why? Did something happen?”

Jaskier sighed, accepting that his coup was going to have to wait for a bit, and placed the tray down on the bed beside him.

“You should know by now of your destiny”

“Being tied to Geralt? Yes. I found him a few weeks ago in the forest near Sodden”

‘So he's definitely here’ Jaskier thought anxiously, swallowing down the thoughts for now to continue with the line of questioning.

“Well I was there when he called for the Law of Surprise. Your mother, Pavetta, invited me back to your first name day celebration as a way of saying thank you. Though I think the invite was really meant for Geralt. So... I took it upon myself to check on you, only once a year, for as long as I could. By the time you were 8 I think that Calanthe was scared that I’d try and take you to Geralt behind her back - sneak you out of the castle somehow - and so she asked that I didn't come back”

Ciri nodded slowly, and Jaskier could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She eventually spoke, “So you knew my parents?”

“Oh, yes. They were lovely people, kind and fair.” Jaskier huffed a laugh as a reminiscent smile crossed his face, “I remember on your first name day they couldn't stop watching you, their love for you shining even brighter than that for each other. It was clear to everyone in that rom that you were a gift, Calanthe even let me play you some lullabies - and that woman never liked me playing anything but a jig.”

The bard was pulled out of his memories by a small sob to his left.

“Aw - no - Ciri come here” Jaskier cooed, opening his arms for the girl. She accepted the offer gladly, curling up in his embrace and placing her cheek against his chest.

“Do you think they’d be proud of me?”

Her voice was meek, mostly muffled against the now-damp fabric of his chemise. An ache radiated through his chest, the position reminding him of his younger sister back in Lettenhove.

“Oh, Cirilla, of course they would be. You’ve been so strong” he replied, stroking her hair gently, “You’ve done everything you were supposed to do, okay? You fought to keep yourself safe and you found Geralt”

“But all the people that have died -”

“That’s not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped Nilfgaard. A whole army against one person? In no world is that a fair fight”

“But you -”

“My kidnapping is not on you either” He said sternly, “I’m a bard, we know a lot of things. I likely would’ve been captured for information anyway, that’s the unfortunate way of the world. I can promise you that none of that is your fault”

Ciri hummed an affirmative noise, lifting her head from his chest, wiping her eyes, “I didn't mean to cry on you like that, I’m sorry”

Jaskier just smiled, “You cant be strong all the time, Ciri. Everyone cries, bottling it up can make things worse”

“I was always told to be strong. Grandmother - I need to be strong. I haven't seen Geralt cry”

Jaskier shifted slightly so that he was eye-level with the princess, “Crying doesn't make you weak, far from it in fact. But if you need to vent and don't want anyone else to see you can always come to me. Okay?”

Ciri nodded, though this time more self-assuredly, “Thank you Jaskier”

Smiling, Jaskier patted her shoulder amicably, “Right I should probably finish my soup. Why don't you fill me in on what I’ve missed in the world whilst I eat - has Valdo Marx died yet?”

“Who’s that?”

Jaskier chuckled, “We’re going to be very good friends, I can already tell”

Ciri flashed a grin, head tilting towards the door as her name was called from downstairs. Jaskier saw her hesitate, looking back a him.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine”

“Okay, I’ll come back as soon as I can”

As the door closed behind her, Jaskier slumped, the façade of energy draining away almost instantly. He stared down at his hands, the fingers throbbing with a dull ache, barely holding back tears.

‘What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?‘

______________________________________________________________

@kittynannygaming @fillingless-piee @nanazlovese @anotherunoriginal @baron-von-wilderpantz

#geraskier #Geralt of rivia x jaskier #Geralt x jaskier #Geralt of rivia #jaskier #Jaskier whump #Geralt whump #the witcher #fanfiction #whump #fanfic #yennefer x triss #Yennefer of Vengerberg #Triss Merigold #the witcher whump #jaskier fanfiction #cirilla fiona elen riannon

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ffastoriesforfatties · 5 years ago

Text

Personal Affliction

The news of the new virus taking over the world and shutting down jobs and businesses was terrible news for most but not me. I finally realized I had all the time in the world to be a socially acceptable pig,

I had all the means to go to the store and buy an absolute metric ton of food that I would then eat on my couch and not move from that spot for several days.

The first month of quarantine I was already seeing results, my hips felt doughy and soft, I was finally getting that dream belly, the fat and stored itself all over my arms and upper thighs, and was starting to settle into my face, I was estatic. In fact to celebrate I pulled out a cake from the fridge and dove in head first all to prepared to indulge in a very hendonistic activity.

As time went on I found myself more and more hungry, and requiring a minimum of 5 meals a day due to the constant stuffing I’d been subjecting myself to, I never was without something in my hand, and it was truly showing up all over my body.

Passing a mirror I got to admire my new belly, looking fresh and doughy, hanging of my frame like a pregnant woman’s. I was finally getting a belly hang and it was incredibly addicting to touch. Turning slightly the rolls I had been acculmating were deepening by the day, and my face was becoming visibly fatter, I reached up to touch my new double chin and was delighted by the sensation of the new adipose. At that very moment I received a text from my families group chat saying they wanted to zoom everyone in 15 minutes, and everyone better show up. So I went into my room to dress myself for the first time in a month and a half only to unsurprisingly find nothing that fit. I decided to go with a pink stretchy tshirt that was very noticeably squeezing my arm fat and I could only manage to pull it past my tits. I pulled on a pair of very tight underwear that creased my hips and disappeared into my ass crack and pulled a pair of very very tight old sweat pants just barely over my thighs even though it felt like it was on its last thread. This whole process had left me sweaty and panting from the small physical exertion but my 15 minutes were up and you hustled to open the zoom on my iPad

“Hi *pant pant* everyone!” I said as I sat down at the camera as the faces of my family members popped up. I quickly noticed that as I had sat down the hems in my sweatpants had spilt in several places and I just had to ignore it, as well as in the view finder of your own face I noticed how smiling had made your already visible double chin extremely pronounced and blushed realizing that no one knew about my gain yet. As my face appeared on everyone else’s screen I could see the moments of confusion in their eyes as they realized it was me, no one had the balls to say anything but it was clear they noticed.

“How’s everyone’s quarantine been, everyone staying healthy..?” ——— after about an hour of distant family members droning on I felt my stomach start begging for food, and I tried my hardest to suppress it but it wasn’t used to not getting food for this long, after a few minutes my desire outweighed reason and i stood up forgetting about my uncovered gut and spilt seams in my pants and walked through my cameras background to my kitchen to grab a box of cookies and a soda. Coming back to my seat I barely realized anything was wrong until I looked at your screen and saw your families gawking faces

“Emily, have you been feeling alright?” mom asked through the microphone

“Yeah just spectacular why?” I said as you stuffed a cookie into your mouth and subconsciously rubbed my other palm on my gut feeling the exposed skin which is when it hit me, what my entire family just saw, i looked down at my gut forming a shelf for my tits and my hips and thighs ever so slightly squeezing out of the confines of the sweatpants through the ripped gaps.

“Oh ok um well then, I think that’s all, it was nice seeing you all!” And the zoom ended. I couldn’t help but feel massively turned on by that and just in the nic of time your sister sent a message “Em what the fuck happened to you during quarantine?” And deciding to play koi I responded with “What do you mean?”

“Emily are you stupid or something? You’ve blown up to the size of a literal cow, everyone thought it was weird how much wider your face was but then you stood up! You must be double your old weight, so again, what the fuck happened??”

“I don’t know what your talking about Kylie, I’ve put on like max 10 pounds”

“10 fucking pounds? Are you mad?”

“Em you’re the size of a house! Everyone saw that belly you’re toting around now and I’m half convinced you’re pregnant!”

“I’m not pregnant and I’m not fat!” I stay playing the character of denial when I’m secretly enjoying every second of this.

“Good god i cannot believe you, you’ve got to be kidding right? “

“I’m not kidding and you’re just trying to be mean..”

“Emily for the love of god you didn’t even fit in your clothes! I’m concerned with how much you’ve put on !”

“And how much I’ve put on is like nothing!”

“You’re hopeless. I hope you’re happy as a pig Oink oink”

I giggled with glee, I really was a pig now and everyone could see it. I opened another soda and chugged it, there’s no going back now

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 7

“Fuck,” I say, and Peter stretches, regards me evenly.

“There’s more,” he tells me.

“I want to hear it,” I tell him, “but I’m out of SD cards. I need to put all this shit on my laptop and clear these, make more room.”

“Alright,” Peter shrugs. “Are you going to come back later tonight, or…”

I glance at my phone; it’s already two in the morning. I wince. “Tomorrow?”

“I get off early tomorrow. I’m taking some other people to the Pit.”

“I still don’t get why you do that.”

“It’ll make more sense once I’m done with the story.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I tell him. I look at him and he looks at me. It’s hard to reconcile the Peter I know with the one he’s been telling me about. This one, sitting behind the 7-11 counter, just looks tired.

“You know,” he says after a moment, “you’re more persistent than I thought you would be when I first met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When you followed us out there to the fence, I mean, when I found out you weren’t a fed - I thought you’d get scared. Or at least, when you found out you wouldn’t be able to use this in a story, you’d lose interest.”

“Let’s just say that now I’m personally interested.”

“Personally?”

“Sure. Or perhaps ‘invested’ is a better word.”

I can see his eyes narrow. He looks at me appraisingly. “You haven’t been feeling it calling to you, have you?”

“I don’t even know what that would feel like. What the hell does that even mean?”

Peter’s silent for a while. “After the disaster, once I was out and convalescing and everything, I started having these dreams. Almost like lucid dreaming, if you know what that is. The most vivid dreams I’ve ever had, and ones where I could actually control what I was doing. You know how in most dreams, you just sort of do what your subconscious wants you to? Well, in these it was almost like being awake. I’d be in these ordinary situations, I’d be in my house or in the hospital or whatever, walking down the street, and I’d turn a corner or open the door and there would just be the Pit, right there.”

“What, the whole thing?”

“No, no, I mean, I’d open the door and all of a sudden it’d be an alveolar passage or the Organ Trail or something. And I’d feel – I’d feel this pull, almost physical, to go down there, to go into the Pit in these dreams. Like where I was before, it wasn’t right, there was something wrong about it, but when I got to the Pit, it’d be right. It’d be okay.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just, you know, trauma?”

“I started missing time.”

“Missing time?”

“I’d wake up and it’d be one or two in the afternoon and I’d be standing on the porch having a smoke, fully dressed, staring out across the desert to where the pit ought to be. I was back in Lubbock with my sister at the time and I’d be pointed straight where Gumption would be, I checked it on a map and everything. Like, one moment I’d be asleep having one of those dreams and the next I’d be in the middle of doing something else.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah. So my sister got worried about me. She thought I was getting into drugs, actually, and when I tried to explain to her what was going on she didn’t buy it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s reasonable, right? I don’t really blame her for it. Well, I did at the time but now, looking back on…hindsight is 20/20, you know?”

“I feel that,” I murmur.

“Anyway, it got so bad that she had me committed, and from there I sort of ping-ponged around the system for a while until I got to somebody who’d heard of other people who were having the same trouble, who’d all been involved in the Flesh Pit disaster. He managed to get me transferred to a facility over in Dallas that was handling that issue. It was…”

He trails off. I hold my tongue, though I’m dying to know. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

“It was rough,” he finishes. “There were a lot of people there and they were all in bad shape. I was still only losing a couple of hours a day but there were people who were losing three, four, five. You could tell because they’d walk around just sort of staring blankly, you could tell they were off somewhere else. You could talk to them and they’d just grunt at you or give you short little one-word answers that usually didn’t make a lot of sense. For me, though, what happened was that sensation of things not feeling right, that got worse. I started feeling that all the time.”

“What exactly does that mean, ‘not feeling right?’ Like, how did that feel?”

“Like, okay. Did you ever see one of those optical illusions where it’s supposed to be a three-dimensional object and then the camera moves and it’s actually two-dimensional and just really stretched out so that from one perspective it looks three-d?”

“Yeah.”

“Like that, kind of, but with everything. I’d get afraid that if I’d move, everything would sort of warp out of shape. And then I started to see it actually happen, just for a moment. Or have you ever been really tired and your eyes started having trouble focusing on moving objects or if you moved your head too quickly or whatever? It was like that but all the time. It’s hard to explain.”

“I think I understand.”

“You can see how that might be concerning. How that might affect you.”

“Yes,” I agree. I start to wonder if I’ve felt like that before, over the past couple of days, but I stamp down on the rising head of paranoia before it can get started.

“Anyway. Once the first couple of people tried to escape they really stepped up their efforts. Then there were the suicides.”

I wish, briefly, that I were still recording.

“Once those started,” Peter continues, “they didn’t know what to do. It’s not like they were really giving us very much freedom to begin with. A bunch of people swallowed their own tongues in their sleep, choked to death that way. I mean, can you imagine the determination it’d take to do that? You’d have to be…you’d have to be crazy.”

“You must have been scared,” I say gently.

“Yeah. So when they had an experimental treatment they wanted to try, I jumped for it.”

“What was it?”

“Some sort of drug, I never knew the name. It was still in trials, I heard. That plus electroconvulsive.”

“Christ.”

“It was rough, but it helped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Whatever part of me that was still stuck in the Pit and wanting to get back there, that killed it.”

Something in the way he says it makes me shudder. “So that’s it? You’re all better now?”

“I guess. I haven’t had a dream in four years. My imagination’s suffered, I can feel it. You tell me to picture an apple in my head, I can’t do it. I can see a little cartoon apple, maybe, like a scribble.”

“Did your personality change?”

“I guess. My sister said it did. Said I wasn’t as…I dunno. Said I wasn’t ‘me’ any more.”

“Did you feel like you weren’t you?”

“I felt the same. A little less energetic, maybe.”

“Did you resent her?”

“I did at first. When I got an offer from the Containment Company out there, to come back and work in the Pit, I thought about it for a long time but eventually I took it. That’s how I came back here. I was scared to begin with, I thought it might start up again, but it was alright. That and I wanted to just get a little space, a little breathing room. Every now and then I think about trying to explain what happened to her but I don’t think she’d understand.”

“Right.”

“I ended up working for the Company for a while and then me and the Head of Security there, we, ah – we had it out and ever since there’s been a bit of bad blood. I resigned but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the town.”

I think about that for a moment. “You’ve been letting people in for a long time, haven’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Me and – and the Head of Sec, she knew about it, but when I explained it to her she was willing to turn a blind eye. Eventually when that grew…impossible, I left.”

I think about that pronoun for a moment but I don’t ask. It seems like it’s still a fresh wound and I don’t want to prod.

“Why do you let them in?” I ask.

“If you’re at the point that you’re coming down here and practically climbing the fence trying to get to the Pit, you don’t come back from that,” he says. “I’ve seen the reports, the analysis they’ve done on some of those people. There’s a point of no return. I saw a little glimpse of it myself but I got pulled away from that abyss. You fall in, you don’t come out. At that point they’re dead either way but I think it’s a mercy to let them in, to let them die somewhere that they, you know…that doesn’t cause them the same level of pain to exist in. Or maybe to give them a chance to – find whatever they’re looking for.”

He watches me carefully as he says it, but I nod after a moment. It makes sense, at least to me it does. Of course it relies on assumptions, on the assumption that these people can’t be rehabilitated, that the mind is a fragile thing and once broken can’t be fixed, but aren’t those reasonable assumptions? I realize, thinking to myself, that I don’t blame him, I don’t…I don’t know, feel nervous around him, I don’t feel like he’s killing people… at least not purposely.

If he’s telling me the truth. I look at him; he looks at me. His eyes are sunken but bright. He’s got bags under them but he looks alert, watchful, keen. “Are you telling me the truth?” I ask him, and he smiles, spreads his hands. He has an innocent smile.

“I’m telling you everything,” he says. “It feels good to get it off my chest.”

“Okay,” I tell him, and worry no more.

* * *

We make plans to meet the next day for breakfast, at the little diner a few streets down. It’d looked pretty dead when I’d rolled into town and driven past it but apparently it’s only open until noon. Then I leave the 7-11, the little bell tinkling behind me as I push the door open, and the night air puts its arms around me and I realize just how tired I am.

I blow a breath out. “I have got to stop pushing myself so hard,” I say, and I feel a little twinge of fear in my stomach, because a year ago I wouldn’t have felt like this was even in the same ballpark as ‘pushing myself hard.’

I don’t feel any different, not yet. I don’t feel sick. I suppose I won’t until my immune system deteriorates enough that I’m catching illnesses off of pigeons or something like that. I’d had about fifty tabs worth of frenzied research left on my laptop that I’d impulsively closed when I was packing a few days ago. Now I regret it. I could go into my history, get them back, but I won’t. I already know I won’t.

Ignorance really is bliss. If you can lie to yourself you can say ‘but I didn’t know! Nobody told me!’ and have it be honest. And if it’s honest then it stops being a lie.

I feel like I’m tearing in pieces, a little bit there when I get caught in a doorjamb, a little bit here when someone takes ahold of me and pulls.

Maybe if I make myself empty enough I can just fill myself up with Peter’s story, fill myself up with the Pit, and I won’t have to think.

I smoke a cigarette and then get in the car, drive back to the hotel. I take my clothes off and don’t bother to put any underthings on. I have some night clothes in my bag but I’m too exhausted to bother. Housekeeping’s come by and made the bed so I unmake it, toss the big heavy blanket on the floor, and then I fall in and fall asleep and let no dreams trouble my anxious mind.

* * *

My eyes fly open and then flash over to my watch, and then my lip curls. “I am getting so fucking tired,” I say out loud, “of being woken up by goddam phone calls.”

It’s the hotel phone this time. I don’t recognize the number. I consider letting it ring but then sigh and pick it up. “Hello?” I ask, hoping my voice is aggressively drowsy enough to make whoever is on the other end reconsider.

“Hello, Miss Dzilenski,” says the voice, low, cool, feminine. It sounds familiar. “This is Erica Walken.”

Oh.

“Well,” I say, “you pronounced my name correctly, so I suppose I ought to at least hear you out.”

I can hear her smiling when she speaks. “My grandmother was Polish,” she says. “Doesn’t it mean something like ‘one who comes from the green place?’”

I open my mouth, then shut it again. “Yes,” I say finally. “That’s true. I never learned any Polish but I remember my father telling me that’s what it meant.”

“I’m afraid you might have gotten the wrong impression of me,” she says. I grunt.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“I’m calling to warn you.”

I roll my eyes. “Please,” I say, “it’s way, way too early for the melodrama.”

Erica pauses for a moment. “I don’t know what Peter’s told you about me,” she says, “but you have to realize, the…trips he organizes wouldn’t be possible without cooperation between the two of us.”

“You mean the – “

Erica clears her throat, interrupting me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I think we cut out for a moment. The phone lines here can be unreliable.”

I stop for a moment and think about that, think about what I might be getting myself into. “Alright,” I say. “I get it. What’s your warning?”

“When you meet him for breakfast, Peter’s going to offer you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t accept it.”

“Okay, can you like, go a little more in depth with the –“

The line clicks dead. I look at the receiver for a while before I put it down and walk, still naked, into the bathroom, to piss and bathe, to shave my legs, if I can bring myself to, and to smoke another five cigarettes in the shower again.

* * *

“She said not to accept, huh?”

“Yeah,” I nod. Peter shakes his head. His pancakes are getting cold so I reach over, cut myself a slice of one of them, pull it back over to my plate. He stares at me and I shrug. “What?” I ask. “You’re obviously not going to eat them.”

“Erica and I have a…complicated relationship.”

I put the voice recorder on the table, click it on. Up until now we’ve been making small talk while I’ve been wondering what goes on inside his head, while I’ve been wondering just how much of him the doctors killed in that psychiatric ward four years ago. He certainly seems like a person. He doesn’t seem dull or slow. If he hadn’t told me all that had happened I would never have suspected that there were anything different. Perhaps the worst I’d say was that he was boring. But plenty of people are boring.

“Tell me about the cult,” I say.

“I don’t even think ‘cult’ is really the right word for it. They just get together, have some pseudo-mystical rituals and habits, and then, you know, the whole thing about having to go down to the Pit and stay for a while as an initiation. But basically they think that the Pit is God, or just a god, or just a higher power. You ever go to Al-anon?”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“No, Al-anon. It’s different. Don’t ask me to explain how, I don’t know. Never went myself. I knew a guy who led a group, one time. One of the things they do as part of their process is you have to acknowledge a higher power. Not god necessarily, just a higher power. ‘God as you understand him,’ I think is the phrasing. You could see god in a tornado, or a hurricane, or even something like a snake. If a snake bites you and you don’t get to a hospital, you’re dead. Well, okay, I guess it depends on the kind of snake. You get what I’m saying?”

“Yes. I guess so.”

“I’ve been to a few of their meetings. They have them in the gym of the local high school.”

“There’s a high school?”

“Not much of one, but it’s there. Believe it or not, Gumption isn’t completely dead.”

“Guess I didn’t pass it on the way in.”

“Probably not. It’s on the outskirts of town.”

“Anyway. The meetings.”

“There’s nothing really creepy about them. Just a bunch of people who’ve gone through trauma of some kind and are coping by using the Pit as an example of a higher power. I guess it’s just more tangible than whatever the real Al-anon uses.”

“Really? It’s nothing…” I wave my hand. “Nothing creepy?”

“Really. The only trouble is, they’ve gotten a little…protective of the Pit. We do occasionally get tourists who want to gawk and some determined people occasionally who want to get in. Not the ones who’re compelled to, I mean, people who want to see what it’s like, for the thrill, or because they want to hurt the Pit, damage it or whatever. Lots of motivations. You can understand how a cult like that might feel. They think they’re the real devotees and everyone else is to be regarded with suspicion.”

“So that’s it?”

“Well, there’s also all the weird sex stuff, but I think that’s just because Erica’s into it.”

“What?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing strange, really. They take a field trip down to the ballast bulbs every now and then. They have to be very careful cause it’s so close to the new control center they - the Company - put in there, but I keep track of things for them, coordinate it so they go in and out during a shift change or on a weekend when there’s a skeleton crew. You, uh…”

He trails off and I look at him. His eyes flick up to mine and then away again. “When I told you what ballast was before I could tell you…knew what it does. I don’t know what your experience was but I guess it was something formative. I –“

“I lost my virginity cause of a Coke Heartthrob.”

Something about the way he blushes when I say it makes me want to smile. “Okay. Well, there were studies suggesting that some of the Indian tribes around here a long time ago, the ballast was a pretty important part of their rituals. Fertility, rite of passage, all that stuff. Erica just kind of cribbed off of them, I guess.”

“They knew about the Pit?”

“Oh yeah. There were ritual grounds there when it was discovered that dated back a very long time, least that’s what I heard. Got almost entirely obliterated in the initial excavations. They didn’t care as much about that kind of thing in the 70s.”

“That’s sad.”

“Erica’s of the opinion,” Peter says, “that the exploitation of the Pit is a perversion of the way people used to live with it. She thinks that people used to live in harmony with it, and that turning it into a theme park was…crass. And that Anodyne got what it deserved.”

I think about that for a moment. “She must not really think of the Pit as a god, then,” I reason. “A god you can exploit by definition isn’t one.”

“You’d have to take that up with her.”

“Are they dangerous?”

He thinks about that one for a moment. “I think there are one or two individuals among them who could be, some of the newer crop who really drink the kool-aid. I don’t think Erica would be, though, not personally at least. I think she thinks the Pit can take care of itself, it’s really the newer members who’re the most zealous.”

“Alright. So what’s the offer I’m supposed to be turning down?”

Peter’s mouth quirks up in an irrepressible smile. “Want to come to the Pit tonight?”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious. I can get you in. The group I’m taking is small, just three other people. One more won’t make a difference. And I can get you back out again.”

I realize that I’ve opened my mouth to say no automatically. I think about it for a moment, then shut my mouth. “You’ve been doing this for how long?”

“Three years. Give or take.”

“Ever gotten caught?”

He shrugs. “If I had, you think I’d be sitting here?”

“What if tonight’s the night, then?”

“I thought you wanted this scoop.”

I laugh at that. “Can I bring my camcorder, then?”

“Sure. Don’t know how useful it’ll be at night, though.”

“It has a night vision mode. Not a very good one but better than nothing.”

“So you’re in?”

This is it, Roan. Last chance to back out. You could get back in your rental car and turn around and drive back to Lubbock, catch a plane home tonight.

“I’m in,” I tell him. He grins at me and I feel for a moment like I’m back in high school, making a plan to do some dumb shit with Joe and Mac and Lou and all the rest. Christ, I haven’t thought about them in ages. I – wait a minute.

“Hey,” I ask, “what about Erica, though?”

“What about her?”

“What’s she going to do if I do go with?”

“Nothing,” Peter tells me. He seems confident enough. “What can she do? Rat us out? Then she and the cult won’t be able to get to the Pit any more. I do more than just lift up a fake rock, you know, I’ve still got a couple of friends on the inside, and they let me know about patrols, shift changes, all that stuff. That’s the reason they can’t do it without me.”

“You really don’t take any money from the people you let in?”

“I don’t take money from the people who’re drawn to it,” he elaborates. “They get in for free. The cult has to pay.”

“Ah,” I say. “That’s your angle.”

“I’m not making a ton of money from it,” he says. “But it’s still a risk, you know, and I really don’t want to take money from the other people I let in.”

“I’m not judging you,” I assure him. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

“I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

“How much do I have to pay, then?”

“What? You don’t have to –“

“I’m serious. Pretend I’m with the cult, or I’m a thrillseeker who managed to convince you to let me in with my feminine wiles and my good looks,” I say, batting my eyelashes at him. I manage, very narrowly, not to feel silly while doing it. He’s looking at me very closely and I realize, perhaps belatedly, that the shirt I wore today does show rather a lot of my meager cleavage. What if…no, forget it. “How much would you charge me? Be honest, no friends and family discount.”

I can see his eyes flick upwards and meet mine. He was staring at them, he must have been. It was only for the briefest of moments but he must have been.

I bite my lip. Stop it, Roan. “How much?” I ask again. He takes a long sip of his coffee. “Maybe seventy-five bucks.”

“Maybe?”

“Price depends on how much of a liability I think you are. You seem pretty solid to me so you get a lower price.”

“Cash only, I assume?”

“Does it look like I carry a card reader?”

“I’ll have to go by an ATM but I’ll have it for tonight. When should I meet you? And where?”

“You don’t have to –“

“If you’re going to take me in there, I’m paying.”

He looks like he’s going to argue with me and I raise my eyebrows at him. “Don’t start,” I warn him, and he puts his hands up and relents.

I order another plate of eggs and while we’re waiting he tells me where and when to meet him. I can feel a little ratty knot of excitement in my belly, and despite everything, despite how I’ve been feeling the past couple of days, I grin at him like I can’t contain myself.

“You look excited,” he observes.

“I am excited,” I tell him. “Do you have enough time to finish your story?”

He checks his watch, glances at my voice recorder. “Did you bring enough memory cards this time?”

“I’ve got plenty.”

So he tells me.

* * *

“Mak, it isn’t your fault,” Peter tells her, and though he can’t see, Makado rolls her eyes at him, still hunched over on the ground. She curls upright, wipes her eyes, sniffs loudly. Tyler and Fitzroy still look like they’re in shock.

“I know it isn’t my fault,” she says softly. “I’m not sad, I’m pissed. Okay, yeah, I’m sad, but I’m more pissed than sad.”

Peter looks at her, at the long wet streaks still there on her cheeks, at her wide eyes, reddened from crying. He watches her blush and as she starts to say something, starts to turn away and wipe at her cheeks again, he reaches out to her and folds her into his arms and after a moment she puts her arms around him as well and breathes there against his chest. He can feel her take a long, shuddering breath and blow it out, and then her fingernails curl inwards and dig at his back lightly, sending a delicious tingle up his spine, even though he tries to will it away, tries to tell himself that now isn’t the time.

He feels Makado’s lips come together and press a soft kiss into the space just between his pectorals and his heart makes a funny soaring motion like it’s going to leap out of his chest. He looks down at Makado and she looks up at him. “Let’s go back down and kill that fucking thing,” she says.

“Mak, no.”

“You and me could do it,” she breathes. There is a fire in her eyes that he’s never seen before, not even the time when she locked that rapist out in the depths of the Pit and let him disappear. There’s something different, something about Eileen that’s making her blood boil and choke and singe her as it throbs through her veins. “We could go down to the LVC, get one of those big slug guns, get back into Gastro –“

“Gastro’s a wreck,” Peter tells her. “That copepod is probably long gone by now. And even if it wasn’t, how would we be able to tell it was the same one?”

“It’ll have scoring on its exoskeleton, from the acid. It’ll look mottled.”

“And what about them?” he asks, nodding to Tyler and Fitzroy. He hasn’t seen Fitzroy crying but his eyes are red, so he must have been. Tyler’s lip keeps trembling. Makado looks over at them and as Peter watches he can see the tears come rising again and watches as she swallows them back down. “We have to get them out, Mak,” he tells her, reaching down and, greatly daring, taking her hand in his. Her hand is small and warm and soft, and he holds it delicately, as though it were a butterfly he’d caught by the wing and instead of panicking and fluttering madly to get away, it had held still and let him examine it. Then Makado grins at him through her tears and knots her fingers in his, running her thumb along the fleshy heel of his palm in a series of quick circles before she breaks from him, leaving him a little dazed and smelling of peaches. She reaches out and thumps her fist into Peter’s chest.

“You’re awful,” she tells him.

“Me?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m trying to feel sad and angry, and you’re making that difficult.”

“That’s what you keep me around for.”

“Alright,” she says. “We’ll get them out first, and then come back down.”

“Mak…”

“I know,” she says, making a face. “I promised these kids I would get them out. What about Eileen?”

“You cannot blame yourself for that.”

“I don’t, I blame the copepod.”

“And killing it is going to make things even?”

Makado is silent for a long time. “No,” she says finally. “But it’ll make me feel better.”

“Mak, please.”

She looks at him again, her gaze oddly calculating, and then, after what feels like forever, smiles. “Okay,” she says.

* * *

Getting out is easier than Peter had thought it would be. Bronchial is practically deserted; very few creatures live up here, and the passageways are twisting and confusing, making it a seldom-visited spot for tourists, meaning the main traffic was mostly rangers taking shortcuts and maintenance crews doing spot work. The central passageway, though, a relic of the old Anodyne days of the 70s, was their ticket out – a vast bloody hallway carving through the twisting alveolar passages of the Pit’s enormous lungs, without any regard for the damage it might have been doing to the Pit, large enough to drive a utility vehicle down and long enough to span almost the entirety of the Park’s sizable width. There had long been talks about closing the passageway and removing its supports and retaining stents and allowing the Pit to heal, but after a series of studies in the late 90s, Anodyne decided to keep the passage open, as the Pit had already grown around it and over it, covering the hallway in a living tube of flesh that flexed and squeezed with the Pit’s labored breathing.

The Pit’s lungs don’t work like those of a mammal. Some of the principles are the same – maximum surface area for maximum oxygen absorption. But just like the Pit’s circulatory system, the lungs draw in a constant influx of air, and expel a constant outflow of carbon dioxide and other waste chemicals – no regular pulse of breathing. More efficient that way, or so a scientist had told Peter at some point. The air comes in, through the gullet and through other smaller orifices dotted here and there across the Texas plains, and the air vents out likewise through other orifices entirely. And one of these orifices, a small, puckered, fleshy hole, protruding through meters of rock and earth, clenching down to roughly eight feet in diameter at its smallest, is located just on the other side of what most tourists consider to be the Pit – the low sloping depression in the earth with the excavated surface of the Permian Basin Superorganism laid bare to the sun, with the vast cabled dilating paddles holding it open, with the gondola lift from the Upper Visitor Center to the elevator in the center of the Gullet, and from there down to the Lower Visitor Center.

It takes them an agonizing half-hour in the bronchial canals, following barely-legible signs that were never really intended to be used. The breathing orifice was nominally listed as an emergency exit but as a cost-cutting measure, it was never actually used as one. That means no running lights, no flooring or stents, just plain raw Pit tissue and Makado’s flashlight beam passing over wet, pale, veined bronchial folds. It takes them an agonizing half-hour, pausing every few minutes to wait for the breeze, make sure it’s still blowing in the direction they’re going, doubling back and forth and over again, pressing in and out gently as though the Pit were sucking at them, trying to keep them inside, but they make it. Makado bursts out of the orifice as though she were never happier to see a night sky and fresh air, pulling Peter out after her, tugging him by the arm as though she wants to pull it from its socket. He clambers, stumbling, out of the orifice, and then realizes that Makado has dropped his hand and is standing, mouth agape, fingers twined in the chain-link fence around the breathing hole, staring down at the chaos below them.

The Upper Visitor Center has been cracked open and the entire western half of it has collapsed into a pile of rubble. Helicopters, at least a dozen, are circling above, and a convoy of military and police vehicles is still streaming into the park; from their vantage point Peter can see the line stretching out along the main road for at least a mile. They can smell the stench of gastric ejecta, sharp and acrid, they can see great green smears of it along with vast piles of off-white pale chyma, frilled and bulbous and disgusting, scattered here and there as though they’d been dropped from the sky.

Amid the piles and the streaming swarms of paramedics and rangers and police and National Guard troopers, scurrying back and forth on nameless errands amid the sheer destruction of the surface, Peter can make out three enormous blobs of flesh, recessed and raw and red and rugose, mounds as enormous as buildings, clawed and jawed and multilegged and chitinous, their thoraxes blown open from forty-mill fire. People are taking photographs, loading bodies onto stretchers, people are performing CPR, guests are wandering around, dazed and confused, until someone in some sort of uniform collars them and pushes them towards one of the great hospital tents they’ve set up here and there, their white cloth shining like beacons in the moonlight.

Peter looks at Makado and she looks at Peter, and then she reaches out and takes his hand, and they open the gate in the fence and make their way down amid the chaos towards the nearest hospital tent.

* * *

Peter’s seen a dozen people he knows but they’ve all looked busy and, all things considered, it doesn’t look like there’s any sort of roll call or place to check in, so he’s just let them rush past on whatever errands they’re set to do. He saw Bruce getting wheeled past in a stretcher, acid burns down his side, screaming; he saw a guest, a girl, probably about the same age as Eileen, pale as a ghost, staring into nothing while a paramedic zipped her into a body bag. All these visions and more flicker past like something out of a dream. He loses hold of Makado’s hand at some point, but he doesn’t notice; everywhere he looks he sees something awful so he stops looking. He fixes his eyes on the field hospital and puts his arms around Fitzroy and Tyler’s shoulders and keeps them with him, holds them tight so they don’t get buffeted away from him in the crowd.

When they’re almost there he turns. “Hey, Mak,” he starts, and then he stops.

Makado isn’t behind them. Fitzroy and Tyler turn with him and Peter can feel his heart thumping in his chest and he realizes he’s afraid. He cranes his neck and looks for her but he can’t see her anywhere, but there are so many people and she’s short enough that he wouldn’t be able to to begin with. Fitzroy looks at Tyler and then nudges Peter. “We’re just going to go get checked out at the hospital,” he says. Peter glances over at them, and then over at the hospital. Fitzroy takes Tyler and walks away, walks towards the tent. Before they make it to the entrance, they turn back. Peter watches Tyler’s mouth move, sees him mouth the words ‘thank you.’ Fitzroy waves and Peter waves back, and then a man in a National Guard uniform leans in and blocks the kids from view, and then ushers them into the hospital, and Peter is alone.

When he turns back around he looks out, past the crowd, and up along the hilly expanse they’d come from. A helicopter whizzes by, its spotlight drawing a bright trace along the ground, and Peter sees someone in a dirty ranger uniform climbing back up the hill, no helmet covering her curly brown hair, still pulled back in a ponytail, her gloves held between her teeth as she reaches up barehanded to steady herself on the face of the hill above her.

When Peter finally makes it back there he finds the gate to the breathing orifice ajar, and no trace of Makado. He shakes his head and, with one final glance back down at the chaos below, plunges back into the Pit, hoping he hasn’t let her get too much of a head start.

Continue with Part 8

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#mystery flesh pit #novel #fiction #writing #caving #disaster #michael crichton #romance #cults

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insomniac-dot-ink · 5 years ago

Text

Never Alone

The yard sale spread out like a little girl shook her dollhouse and the contents sprawled into messy piles across the grass. There was a box of second-hand shoes that you had to find the mate for yourself and rickety card tables with rusting legs holding knick-knacks ranging from toy trains with gunk in the wheels to stained cloth napkins the color of one of the seven deadly sins.

Two neighborhood houses on Chestnut Hill had decided to get together and sell the insides of their attics to the unsuspecting masses. I wrinkled my nose at an old toy chest with a yellow finish and long scrapes across the top.

I glanced over to where a tall brunette was inspecting a plastic tea-cup with flower designs on the side. “How long do you want to be Ollie?” I asked sourly as the sun licked over my brow. It was barely even eleven and I could already feel the heat of the day sinking its teeth in.

Olivia barely looked up as I addressed her, she was in “shopping mode” which was a space I couldn’t personally penetrate with either manners or an industrial-sized hammer. “A couple minutes. Ten tops.” She lied and I wrinkled my nose.

I shook my hair back in irritation, “you promised you’d try that new brunch place with me.” I stuck my bottom lip out, “Derick and I were gonna do it… but you know.” Olivia looked up long enough to flash me a sympathetic look and held up two fingers, “just a couple of minutes.” She gave a long pause and tried to wave me off, “Go find something you like. It’s a big sale there’ll probably be something.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to the messy zig-zags of junk. “Ugh.” I walked away with my shoulders hunched.

Olivia Henderson was my roommate and best friend and had a thing for yard sales, second hand stores, people’s closets, junk piles, and anything that smelled a little funky from the lost and found. Her tastes were as inexplicable as the fact she worked in banking. She collected shoddy 18th century reprints and people’s old key chains with anime characters on them and weird bomber jackets covered in patches.

To say the least, she was going to be awhile.

I rounded an burnt ironing board and watched an old couple inspect a bright green bike parked up against a table. I glanced down at my phone and saw a healthy number of notifications which I immediately flicked away out of habit.

The old couple laughed at something as the owners of the house rounded on them and asked something probably included lines like “lovely couple” and “this will be perfect for you…” I rolled my eyes and went around a box with old roller blades and worn jackets for sale inside.

I checked my phone again and there was a new text.

Mariene: I heard about you and Derick :(

Mariene: Want to talk about it? :)

I shook my head like there was something I was trying to dislodge and jammed my phone in my back pocket. The sun simmered above and I kicked a box of board games lightly before weaving back and forth toward the back of the house.

It was a two-story carbon-copy kind of house that was painted grey and felt grey and oozed that bland grey choke hold sensation of suburbia. The houses around it were beige and cream and off-white and had families in them that were working on holding down decent jobs, having 2.5 kids, and then dying. The whole thing made my stomach churn.

I eyed an old rocking chair that at least looked reupholstered recently and heard the last of the old couples voices: our grandson just turned eight…

Their grandson just turned eight. I felt my phone buzz from my back pocket and glanced over my shoulder to check that Olivia was still collecting slightly bent silver forks and drapes with bowling alley designs.

I was ready to leave. I was ready to get brunch and bitch about Derick and Serina and the fact they were now “Derick and Serina.” How the last thing he said was “I love you,” before cheating on me. I took another meandering step toward the house when my eyes landed on a doorway. There was a series of concrete steps laid into the ground itself, tucked away right behind some bushes and at the back of the house.

I eyed it for a second. The door itself was brown and faceless and the only thing interesting about it was that it was open. I cocked my head to the side as a little basement entrance was fully exposed. It reminded me of a scab begging to be itched.

I looked one more time over my shoulder to check that the owners were still talking to the old couple and Olivia was still in love with her oddities. I skipped down the garden level steps toward the door.

Snooping and boredom usually went hand in hand and I justified it in the back of my head with a quick “maybe they have better junk they’re selling down here.”

A few steps down and the light seemed to shift above my head. It became honeyed and slightly cloudy-- like looking through colored glass. The voices of the yard became more distant and I poked my head inside a very cramped looking room.

It was a finished basement that unlike my parents house wasn’t just concrete floors and water damage. I stood up straight as a blast of AC hit me in the face and I took a few more steps into the room to feel that sweet cold air across my skin.

It seemed to be another storage room which was impressive since they already seemed to have an entire universe of junk on their lawn outside. There were brown boxes stacked high and a wooden dresser alongside a big classic baby crib with wooden bars. The cool air inside the room was heavenly, but there seemed to be a sheen of dust through it. The late summer light streamed down through floating bits of something and my nose began to tickle.

I glanced around the boxes and curiously made my way to the baby crib because I hadn’t seen one like that outside of movies and museums. It looked like it was made of real wood and whittled by hand with a certain amount of care.

My parents had bought plastic industrial-made cribs and quickly got rid of them the second me and my sister were old enough for bunk beds. They weren’t the type of couple to hold onto sentimental keepsakes or make anything by hand.

I delicately touched the railing of the crib and it was warm and the wood was soft like smoothed stones you find near lakes. My eyes glazed over for a moment and some part of me wanted to take the crib home with me. It was handsome and strong and I didn’t own a lot of things with history behind them.

I shook the thought out of my head after a moment because I never planned on having kids. I never wanted to live in a beige neighborhood where people settled for their jobs and settled for each other and settled for raising bratty kids they didn’t even want. Kids that in turn grew up to settle for shitty governments and shitty societal systems and stop dreaming and start focusing on collecting piles of junk and dying on top of them.

I turned around quickly as if to bundle myself up and run away from the whole vision of it. I pivoted and stumbled into a vanity that I hadn’t noticed was right beside the crib. I hit it hard with my whole body. “Oof!” I yelped.

It was a big solid vanity with four drawers and spindly legs and a round clear mirror in the very center of the wooden body. It looked like the same wood as the crib. I had a moment to catch my own panicked eyes in the mirror before the thing teetered backyard.

“No!” I reached to stop it from thundering backward, but it happened quickly. The vanity toppled backward and crushed two small boxes behind it that sent up an entire storm of dust into the air.

I sneezed rapid-fire as the dust exploded and my head rocked back and forth.

“What’s going on?” A sharp voice barked and someone was at the side door. “What are you doing in here?!” I sneezed again and turned around to find one of the owners-- the woman in a pink cardigan, staring daggers at me. Her mouth went round in perfect horror as she saw the vanity toppled backward and me standing in the very center of the dust plumes.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, “I didn’t mean to, but it’s not broken or anything, promise.” I said before sneezing again and wiping at my nose.

“Get out!” Her voice was strained and barely a pitch below hysterical. “Get out of here!”

My brow furrowed and I plodded back toward the door, “It was open--” She pushed me physically from the room and into the stairwell, “you fool.” She spat, “don’t ever come back here and pray to God it didn’t--” She paused, “just pray.” “What?” I backed away from her. “Anika?” Olivia poked her head around the corner as the light beat me over my head. Olivia eyed the owner looking like a bull with red paint in front of her, “Uh?” “We gotta go.” I said flatly. Personally, I thought the woman was overreacting since nothing was actually harmed.

The owner turned to me. “Leave.” I didn’t need to be told twice. I hurried up the stairs and grabbed Olivia’s wrist, “Come on.” I tugged on her.

“Wait, I found this weird map I want to buy.” “I think we just sorta got banned.” I clarified and tried not to wince. I reminded myself it wasn’t my fault the woman completely lost it.

“What?!”

“I’ll make it up to you.” I said quickly, “lunch is on me.”

I glanced over my shoulder and the last thing I saw was the woman hurriedly locking the door with a huge old-fashioned key and muttering to herself. Something cold dropped into the pit of my stomach and I ignored it.

------------

“I can’t believe you guys are going out without me.” I pouted as I watched my roommates finish gathering their bags and checking their makeup and phones for updates on their Uber.

I lived with three roommates because it was New York City and I wasn’t a billionaire. Olivia was a strange artsy girl who worked in accounting, Carmen was an outgoing career girl with a type-A personality, and Molly was a soft, quiet girl who was getting her PhD in something useless. They were all my type of people, but it didn’t help when they all just stared blankly at me as I moped on the green armchair by our windows.

Carmen puckered her lips, “Hey, we told you to come with us.” She said with an arched eyebrow, “it’ll help get over your bastard ex.” I gave a dramatic sigh, “I’m not ready for a rebound guy yet.” I said tersely and shifted in place. “And I’ve got a headache.” I lied mostly for the effect.

Molly shot me a sympathetic look. “We don’t have to talk to boys--” “Speak for yourself.” Olivia joked.

“It’s our girls night. We've been planning it for weeks now.” Molly simpered.

I stuck my chin out stubbornly. “Can’t we just stay home and watch TV? I have a breakup ritual to get through.”

Carmen clicked her tongue, “I bet Derick would be so jealous if he saw you already hot and ready to trot right now.” I made a face at them. “I don’t want to make him jealous. I don’t care about that cheating asshole anymore,” I lied again and turned away, “but you guys have fun.” I knew I was mostly refusing out of spite, didn’t they care that I was going through something right now? It didn’t matter either way though as Carmen cheered, “Our Uber’s here! Come on ladies.” “Be good, Anika,” Olivia waved, “don’t get banned from anything else while we’re gone.” She said with a twinkle in her eye and a reference to our outing that morning.

I flipped her off, “Go enjoy getting yourself gonorrhea in a club bathroom.” “We will.” And just like that they were out the door and to their “girls night” without a care in the world.

I groaned and hung my head back. I heard my phone buzz probably with yet another text from my sister. She never got the hint when I didn’t want to talk to her or listen to another one of her lectures beginning with “start growing up already, Anika, you’re almost thirty.”

I closed my eyes and wanted something to scream into.

The apartment was a clean space with dark carpets and low ceilings. It was decorated by Olivia with misshapen nautical lamps in the corners and heavy curtains that Carmen put up so she could Skype with her international colleagues early in the morning.

I stared at the ceiling as I listened to my roommates reach the elevator and the doors dinged. I frowned as the noise faded and something else took its place. It was a faint sound.

I perked up and looked over to the apartment hallway. It was almost so distant I couldn’t make it out, but there was unmistakable shuffling coming from the narrow space. “Hello?” I said and narrowed my eyes.

More sounds of scuffing came from the soft carpets. I stood up. Some animal-instinct sent off alarms in my head and I peered around the corner. I swept my eyes across the closed doors and a dying houseplant by the bathroom.

I looked to the ceiling to check if maybe rats were in the vents, but I heard the noise again: pat pat pat.

I looked right in front of me where the sound was coming from. Nothing was there.

Pat, pat, pat

I looked down. There were two dark indents in the carpet that seemed to be moving. I backed up until I reached the opposite wall.

Pat, pat, pat

Something was padding across the floor in front of me, slowly and deliberately. But I couldn’t see anything there.

Some sort of dread settled in my stomach that I couldn’t place, cold and hard and tying knots in my guts. I stared for another moment at empty space, and then ran for the door. I shoved my feet into my shoes, looked at my phone, and then booked it into the hall and down to the stairwell.

“Hey!” I waved as my friends were nearing a blue Mazda. “I changed my mind. I want to come.” I didn’t think I was actually that torn up about Derick, but the mind is a terrible thing, and I didn’t need it playing tricks on me all by myself in my apartment.

--------

My fingers clacked on the keyboard with a certain satisfying fury. The deadline was the day after tomorrow, but that meant it was even more important to get most of the leg work out of the way that night.

The shine of the fluorescent lights was almost feverish and angry above me and my right wrist ached from typing. It was past midnight by then and it was only me and a lowly intern finishing up work for the night. The building was always “on” in the way that the city itself was always “on,” but I had an article on current campaign finance reform failures that I needed to finish.

It was almost 1am by the time I blinked and Kenny the intern was turning off his desk lamp. I looked up and he looked right back at me. “Um,” he was a sweaty kind of kid with a round face and freckles that popped like pock marks on his cheeks. “Did you, uh, want that on?” He asked nervously as he pointed to his desk lamp for some reason.

I shook my head, “I’m basically done.” I looked at my article. It would need a lot of cleanup tomorrow morning before it went to the presses the next day, “I’ll be right behind you.” I let Kenny get to the elevator first and head downstairs so we wouldn’t have to share any awkward small talk when all we really wanted to do was head home. I was revising the last paragraph-- the one with the real “punch” to it when I heard something.

I looked up just as a soft shuffling sound came from across the room. My neck prickled and I closed my laptop.

Pat, pat, pat.

It had a slow pace and strange rhythm to it, but I was certain this time that it was footsteps. I hunched over, finished closing my bag up, and stood.

Pat, pat, pat

It sounded a little quicker this time, but still slow and steady. I jogged to the elevator and was grateful that it didn’t seem able to run itself. I clenched my jaw and looked over my shoulder. Nothing was there again, and some rational part of me felt ridiculous.

I glared, “I know you’re there.” Pat, pat, pat

It was getting closer now. Closer than it was before.

I bared my teeth, “I don’t know what you want--”

Ding

The elevator arrived and I threw a withering look over my shoulder. “But you’re not going to fucking scare me. Go away.” Pat, pat

It was almost right in front of me now. I darted quickly into the elevator and pushed the button a dozen times to get the doors to close faster. I exhaled when they finally gently clanked shut just as the steps arrived right where I had just been.

I was massaging my neck and thinking about going to shrink when I heard the creature really arrive at the door.

Sccrrrtchhh

I sucked in a quick breath and that same cold dread shook through my nerves. The elevator started descending to the street level, but all I could hear was that same sound over and over again: sccrrtchhh

It sounded like claws on metal.

I spent the whole walk home looking over my shoulder and listening for invisible things and slow footsteps. I waited for its claws to finally arrive and slit my throat. However, nothing seemed to pursue me in the crowded streets or the subway.

It was probably all in my head. Or it was just trying to scare me a little and would go away-- maybe it enjoyed the hunt and not the kill. But something told me that wasn’t the case.

---------------

“So,” I said and a long drawn-out silence passed between us over the phone. “How’s Josh? How’re the kids?” I asked casually and waited for the other shoe to drop.

My sister cleared her throat on the other end of the line, “He’s fine. They’re fine.” She sounded prim and measured as always, “You’re the one we’ve been worried about.” I scowled off into nothing as I sat in a large park with pigeons pecking at the ground nearby. The weather had been turning and the sky was readying itself for the first snow, “Why?” I said without meaning to.

“Because of Derick. You guys had been dating for ages,” she said slowly, “Plus… you know.” “What?” “You only call when you need something.” She said with both a hint of humor as well as accusation in her tone.

“Well it’s not about Derick.” I grumbled, “I was actually calling about…” I drew a deep steadying breath. “I’ve just been straining myself at work a little too much.” I stared at the ground with a hard look. “And maybe gotten a little over stressed.” “Oh?” Mariene waited.

“So,” I forced the words out. “I know you got a good doctor after Liam was born.”

“You mean a therapist?” She said and it sounded triumphant. “Because he handles mostly postpartum depression, but I could find you someone really good. What do you think the problem is?” “There’s no problem.” I said quickly between clenched teeth, “I just need a better way to unwind or someone to… I don’t know. A second opinion.” “On what?” Mariene sounded truly concerned now.

I looked up at the slate-grey sky and sighed, “it’s nothing.” My shoulders drooped, “it was nice talking to you.” I said in a tone that didn’t really convey the sentiment at all.

“Wait,” Mariene said quickly, “Anika, don’t hang up. If it’s really bad, you can stay with me. Or maybe get an apartment of your own! You’re almost 30 and living with 3 other people is--” “Goodbye Marienne.” I hung up. I looked over my shoulder as I had been doing for weeks now ever since a that first panic pumping night. That first feeling of something, something I couldn’t see approaching.

I checked the park one more time but only saw the squirrels in a trash bin and an old man sleeping on a bench nearby. I got up and told myself that I hadn’t heard from it in awhile now. “I’ll just go back to my apartment,” I rubbed my face. “And sleep.”

“And sleep” was mostly wishful thinking at that point. I hadn’t slept well in awhile. Soft bits of snow started to fall and catch in my hair and eyelashes. I took a deep chilly breath that prickled in my lungs and grounded me. I started walking. I had taken to wondering at night and going in random directions.

I had to use google maps to get home on these nights. I followed the little blue line on my phone down a dark narrow street that directed me toward home. That’s when I heard the distinct echoing.

“Oh.” I said.

Clack, clack, clack

It’s steps reverberated through the dank street and I looked around me. Belatedly, I realized that I had chosen the one street in all of New York that was empty. “Do you only come,” I looked behind me and it seemed even quicker than the last time we met. “When I’m alone?”

Clack, clack, clack

Did it keep getting faster, closer, better at this each time? I couldn’t tell. I started hurrying down the long dark street with empty buildings on either side of me. I needed to find people. I just needed to find some other living breathing person.

Clack-clack-clack-clack

I looked behind me and in the soft fallen snow I saw it’s footsteps. They weren’t shoes or toes or even paws. It was something much worse.

I let out a scream and turned a corner. I ran straight into an old woman with her hair falling out and a sallow look to her skin. “Oh thank God,” I grabbed her and turned, “do you see that?!”

I pointed to the place where the steps were misshapen and lumpy in the snowfall.

“See what, dear?” She asked with her eyes squinted and I remembered to breath again.

“Nothing.” I collapsed onto the ground next to her, “nothing at all.”

----------------

Things were different after that. I went out more. I went dancing so much the blisters on my toes had blisters. I stayed in crowds. I never stayed home. I considered getting a cat, but then what if it hurt the cat when we were finally alone? I knew I had started to bother my friends. They gave me irritated looks when I third-wheeled on nights out with their boyfriends. I knew I was getting annoying when I clung to them and looked over my shoulder wherever we went. I knew I was distracted and not much fun.

It didn’t help that Molly saw me sliding a giant knife into my purse. It didn’t help when Olivia asked me what was in my pocket jokingly and reached in to find handfuls of sand. I couldn’t give her the proper explanation. I couldn’t tell her that I needed to see if it was coming.

It stayed at bay though, as long as I was never alone.

I went back to the house on Chestnut Hill. I suspected that’s where it started-- with the dust and the baby crib. However, when I finally found the address that Olivia gave me the place was completely empty with a “for sale” sign out front.

I couldn’t find the owner’s new address and when I tried to find the basement I couldn’t find that either.

It was midwinter when my friends finally had an intervention.

“We think you need some me-time.” Carmen said factually as we sat in the middle of the living room. “Why don’t you stay home tonight and give yourself a spa night?” She smiled tightly.

They all stared at me from places on the couch and I didn’t even care that we hadn’t had fun together in months. I just needed them to be in the room.

“Sure.” I said with an absent nod. “We can do a spa night tonight.” “Well, babe,” Olivia said slowly, “I’m going to do some me-time tonight in my studio. By myself. Carmen is going on a date with her boyfriend. And Molly is going to visit her parents tonight.” I turned to Molly. “I’d love to see your folks. It’s been too long.” I gave a strained smile.

Molly shook her head. “They saw you last week.” She said with an equally strained smile. “And I was thinking… it would be nice to be only me and them. You know, with my dad being sick and all.” I clenched my teeth, “Of course.” I went on, “but I’d love to give him some get-well presents.” “And you can!” She said, “but not tonight.”

She got up to leave and I turned to Carmen. I opened my mouth and she put her hand up. “No.” She said, “I let you come out with me and Isiah last time and you wouldn’t even leave us alone on the pier. Just, no.” My face fell as she got up to leave as well, “this isn’t healthy.”

I got up as well, “fine.” I said, “I’ll go out by myself.” I could certainly spend a night in the park or at yet another club again.

I heard a collective sigh and Olivia took my shoulder, “do what you need to do.” She kissed my cheek, “but you need to get some rest.”

Rest? It sounded like a joke at this point.

I shook my head. “Let me just get my bag and I’ll go downstairs with you all.” I said and hurried to my room. I expected them to wait. They always waited before. Olivia was my best friend and she would never leave me.

I came back to the empty living room.

Pat-pat-pat

It was so fast now. I let out a small cry before dashing out into the hallway. I barely made it out where I banged on every single one of my neighbors doors. “Please,” I hit 603 with my bare hands and tried the door knob, “please, please come out.” Pat-pat-pat-pat

I ran from door to door banging and yelling and running as the thing’s enormous weight bore down. I felt a hot breath on my neck.

“What is it?” A family-man with a beard burst out of room 610. “Are you alright?” I exhaled as the heat from the things mouth disappeared. The tears were streaming down my face then and I reached for my phone, “I’m sorry.” I said and then I made a phone call to the one person I thought might still want to see me.

-------------------

Derick walked in the door with his slouchy jeans and tousled brown hair. He wore a sheepish look on his face and hung back the second he entered the apartment. He was just in time after the guy from 610 left. Derick rubbed the back of his neck as we exchanged looks, “Uh, I guess you heard me and Serina broke up.” I shook my head. “I heard.” Derick seemed to see me for the first time, “babe, why are you holding a baseball bat?” He frowned, “And why did you call me here? Last time we talked you said you’d like to see me dead.” “It doesn’t matter.” I said blankly. Robotically. “None of it matters. You still want me. Yes?” “I mean,” he shifted from foot to foot. “We had fun together. We dated for five years, that wasn’t nothing.” “It wasn’t.” I agreed. “And we could be together again.” His face emptied, “You said we wanted different things though, like, kids and a house. I still want those things, Anika.” I was so tired. I dropped the baseball bat and walked over to him. I wrapped my arms around him so he wouldn’t escape and buried my face in his chest. “Let’s have kids.” I said blankly, “lets have as many kids as we possibly can.” “Alright?”

“But you have to promise me,” I squeezed him tightly around the middle and he grunted as I dug my nails in. “Never,” I seethed between my teeth. I was still shaking somehow and maybe I would never stop shaking. “Never ever leave me alone.”

#horror story #supernatural #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original story #my work #creepy story #short story #cw: long post #any and all feedback would be appreciated!

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Burn; Current!Roger Taylor x reader

*Author’s note*

In light of Hamilton coming out on Disney+ today (watched it earlier this afternoon and WAS BLOWN AWAY!!!!!) I wanted to post this for awhile but never had the time nor did I think I was going to but I then thought screw it I'll post it in light of Hamilton. So this fanfic goes around "That would be enough" (If you haven't read that story GO READ THAT CAUSE SPOILERS!!!) but this time it's in YOUR POV. Plus this song had some heavy inspiration for a sequel-ish part of that fic. So I hope you all enjoy it and have a safe and happy 4th of July to my fellow American readers :)

You can read pt.1 here -------> READ ME

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@platawnic

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@kairosfreddie

@queendeakyy

_____________________________________________________________

I sat there in the pub trying to enjoy our victory at the Grammy’s with my Hamilton fam, but what Roger had told me just clouded my mind and it was all I could think about. He was my dad. All this time I really did have a father, a freakin Rockstar legend no doubt. The man I had come to idolize out of all the four members of my favorite rock band was none other than my dad.

What if he was lying? Maybe he know about this all along? Maybe he kicked my mother aside as soon as she told him? So many questions were buzzing through my mind. So many what if’s and maybes that I almost was about to just start bawling right there in the club.

“(Y/n)? You okay?” I felt a hand at my shoulder and when I turned around there stood Lin. His brown eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You looked really out of it for a second there.” Said Renée.

“I’ll bet she’s still just star struck from having to sing alongside her favorite rock group. Am I right?” Daveed teased as he wrapped an arm around me and poked my cheek teasingly.

“Yeah how did it feel to be up there with Queen themselves (n/n)? You’ve always raved on about how you wished to perform alongside them.” Leslie said.

“Oh it was—amazing.” I trailed off. “Excuse me.” I removed Daveed’s arm from my shoulders and walked out ot eh club to try and get some air.

Once outside I was automatically hit with the cool winter LA air. I took a left to the side of the club and leaned up against the wall trying to compose myself. Of course I wasn’t gonna tell the guys what Roger just told me, no. This was my mess and they don’t deserve this gossip, but I’ve got to see whether Roger Taylor was either playing me for a fool or if in fact he really is my—father.

In the weeks that went by after the award season was done, I called up my mom’s brother and sister, my uncle Bobby and aunt Jodie to finally see just what the truth was. I first arrived at my aunt Jodie’s home down in Sioux Falls and knocked on the door. The door opened after about five seconds and there stood my aunt Jodie, sheriff of the Sioux Falls police force.

“Hey, there’s my Tony award winning niece.”

“Aunt Jodie you know I didn’t win the award.”

“I don’t care you were denied that award. I’ve heard the album and I saw the show the day it came to Broadway and you were sensational!” I smiled and thanked her with a hug. “Come in, I was just making some coffee before I headed out to start my shift.”

“Oh well if you’re too busy we can talk later.” I said as I was gestured inside.

“Nonsense, besides I’m the sheriff I can come in whenever I want.” She bragged. I shook my head playfully at her as she went into the kitchen and got the coffee poured out. “So, you said over the phone that you wanted to talk about your mom, right?”

“In a way.” I said as I took one of the coffee mugs she soon came in with. She and I sat down in the dining room and she said.

“Okay. What’s going on?”

“Look I’m just gonna cut to the chase. Is Roger Taylor my father?” her eyes widened and she gulped noticeably.

“Wow. That is cutting to the chase.”

“Aunt Jodie please. I’ve—been literally freaking out about this ever since he told me after the Grammy’s……”

“Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. You mean you actually met him?”

“Is it true?!” I demanded. Aunt Jodie set her mug down and sighed heavily.

“God (m/n) you should’ve told her the truth.” She muttered into her hands as she buried her face into them.

“So it is true? Roger Taylor really is my dad?” she turned to me with solemn eyes and took my hand in hers.

“Your mom and Roger were a couple. And they seemed really happy with each other, even from being across the world from each other most days until one day she did move to London with him. God I could’ve sworn they would’ve been married by the end of the year. But you mom showed up at my apartment one night, drenched in the storm that was here that night with a heartbroken expression.”

“So—did he…..dump her? Break her heart?” I snapped lowly.

“Truth be told, your mom left him.” I looked at her in shock. “Yeah. It was also when she told me that she was pregnant. With you. Roger’s child.” She said as she stroked my cheek. I turned away from her and I said as I stared at my mug of coffee.

“Why the hell would she lie to me all these years?”

“Believe me sweetie. Your uncle Bobby and I tried to convince your mom to tell you the truth. Especially once you heard your first Queen song. And—” But before she could finish her statement, her phone rang. She picked it up and answered in a firm tone, “Sheriff Jodie……yeah. Okay. Alright I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and sighed heavily. “Sorry sweetie, the team needs me to do a press interview and it can’t wait any longer.”

“I understand.” I said solemnly.

“Here.” She spoke after a moment of silence. She went over to the living room where she kept all her books and reached the very top of it and pulled out a scrapbook. “Take this.” She handed it to me.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Your mom got into scrapbooking while she was up there. It—has all the pictures of her and Roger together. She told me to hide this shortly after you were born, but I think now since you know the truth, you should take it.” She held it out to me and I took it. “You know, if you don’t wanna wait for me. You can see your uncle Bobby. He might have some things to tell you.”

“Wait, uncle Bobby knows about this too?!” I said aghast. “Did the entire family know about this too? Did grandma and grandpa know about this too?”

“No. Just Bobby and I as her siblings. In fact your grandfather tried to keep your mom away from Roger when they started seeing each other. Said that he was no good for her.” With that she forced herself to leave the house so that she could meet for that press interview.

“Mom—why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” I sighed as I left aunt Jodie’s place and headed 30 miles north to meet my uncle Bobby over at his place.

I arrived at his home/garage shop and we were both sitting down in the kitchen. He was currently eating a steak and potatoes and he even asked if I wanted anything but I told him I didn’t have the appetite to eat. I then explained to him everything that I had found out and it was then he gently lowered his fork filled with mashed potatoes and he said grimly.

“So you met your old man?”

“Got to perform with him actually. I know you really don’t do award shows except for the CMA’s but yeah. I performed alongside Queen and Adam Lambert at the Grammys back in February.”

“And he told you that he was your father?”

“Yeah. Aunt Jodie gave me mom’s scrapbook. Would’ve told me more but she had to do a press junket or something like that.”

“Always busy that little sister of mine.” He sighed solemnly. “Listen sweetheart; when your mom first started seeing Roger I knew a bit of his playboy rep. Then again what rockstar back then didn’t have one? I just told her to be careful. Sure I wasn’t all that thrilled with her dating a Brit but I couldn’t stop her. But when Jodie called and told me that she had come back home pregnant with you, I wanted to drag her ass back there and have her tell Roger what had happened.”

“So she left—because of me?”

“Of course not sweetie. Her reason was because of the fact that Queen was finally rising to the heights they had dreamed of. She—she was honestly scared of what Roger would say if she told him. Jodie and I tried to convince her but you know your mama. Stubborn as an ox. Much like yourself.”

He stood up and went to open a drawer and pulled out a small rusted box. He set it down before me and he told me.

“While your mom could never physically tell you the truth, she tried to see if she could write you a letter. She wrote one every year on your birthday, but could never find the heart to give them to you. She also even wrote some letters to Roger.”

“Let me guess, and she entrusted you with this like she did with aunt Jodie for the scrapbook.”

“There’s also this.” He left and grabbed an envelope from the kitchen cabinet where he would usually keep bills at. “This…..was the letter she wrote on her deathbed. She entrusted me to give this to you when you were ready. Well, guess now’s a good time as any.” He handed me the envelope and I held that along with touching the lid of the box to reveal hundreds maybe thousands of letters.

I tried to keep the tears at bay from the hurt I was feeling in my chest. Uncle Bobby was silence for a moment before he said to me.

“Take your time when you read these letters.”

After a couple of months of finally going through all the letter my mum tried to write to both Roger and myself throughout the years, and finally able to see every single picture of her and Roger together I was numb.

I was the only one left up on stage since everyone decided to go out to eat for their lunch break before tomorrow tonight’s performance which would in fact be Lin’s last performance with us on stage. I took out one specific letter that was actually written just a few days before my mom finally died of cancer, the letter that she was actually able to finish completely with supposedly the right words she needed to tell me.

I had read this letter so many times that I could recite it almost as easy as my lines and the songs from Hamilton. I sat down at the edge of the stage and looked down at it before taking out my phone and went through my rehearsal track and found the instrumental version of Burn.

Much like I had done once before when I was betrayed by my ex-fiancé at the time I was to star in the show when it first came to Broadway, I sung Burn aloud to myself filling each verse with as much emotion and betrayal I was feeling inside.

However unlike before, I couldn’t help myself but mix up some words to what I would normally sing on stage.

Play video

*Me*

I saved every letter you wrote to us From the moment I read them I knew you were his He said you were his Which makes me his

Do you know what aunt Jodie said, When we saw your first record arrive? You said, be careful with that one, love He will do what it takes to survive

You and your words flooded my senses Your sentences left me defenseless You built me palaces out of paragraphs You built cathedrals

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote to me I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line For some kind of sign And when you were mine The world seemed to burn. Burn.

You published your works to the world You told me of How you brought my mom into your bed In clearing your name You have ruined my life

Do you know what uncle Bobby said When he heard what you'd done? He said, she’s partnered with an Icarus He has flown too close to the sun

You and your words obsessed with your legacy Your sentences border on senseless And you are paranoid in every paragraph How they perceive you You, you, you!

I'm erasing you both from the narrative Let everyone wonder how (Y/n) reacted When you both broke her heart You have torn it all apart I'm watching it burn Watching it burn

The world has no right to my heart The world has no place in your bed They don't get to know what I said I'm burning the memories Burning the letters that

Might have redeemed you both

You forfeit all rights to my heart You forfeit the place in his bed You'll sleep in your office instead With only the memories of when you were mine

I hope you both

Burn

“I haven’t heard you sing that song with that much emotion since your ex fiancé cheated on you.” I turned around and there stood Lin. He took off his newsies hat and said. “You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s going on? We’re all worried about you.”

“Just—some personal family drama Lin. You wouldn’t understand.” I said as I sat back down at the edge of the stage.

“I may not get it. But I am willing to lend an ear, if you’d like.” He said as he came up and sat down close to me. His shoulder brushing against mine as his legs mimicked the same way mine were swinging.

“Why do you always have to make me succumb to your charms Lin Manuel Miranda?” he shrugged while giving me the puppy dog eyes. I looked down at my letter before handing it over to him. “You can read it out loud if you’d like.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s better than just you reading in silence. My thoughts will just attack me if there’s silence.” He took the letter from my hand and proceeded to read it.

“‘My darling (y/n). I’ve written this letter over a thousand times in both versions. I could never find the right words to say but with my time coming to an end, you deserve to know the truth. You know how you’ve always loved the songs from Queen? Well, it would seem fate has decided to let you hear them for you see your father is known other than the drummer of Queen.’ Whaaaat?”

“I know. In fact Roger Taylor himself told me he was my father right after the Grammy’s. That’s why I was late to celebration. I didn’t want to believe him, thinking he was a senile old man trying to mess with me. But—hehe turns out he wasn’t. I’ve got pictures from my mom’s scrapbook that she made while she was in London of her and Roger together. All domestic like or her being in the studio with them. And then my uncle shows me some of the many letters she’s tried to write not only to me but to Roger himself about this whole shitshow. So yeah Roger Taylor’s my long lost baby daddy. Surprise!”

“My god.” Lin said after a long pause. “No wonder you’ve been out of sorts lately. I can’t blame you.”

“I’m so confused Lin.”

“About what exactly?”

“Everything. My mom lied to me for so long. Not only to me but apparently to Roger as well cause my aunt Jodie said he never knew. But then again I feel this—utter hatred for Roger because he could’ve told me sooner the moment he found out. Or maybe it would’ve been better had he never told me at all. I mean—I never knew I had a dad. I always believe he never cared about me or my mom, or died of a drug overdose or whatever. It feels like—my whole life has been nothing but one big lie. My entire family knew this secret and yet I find out now almost 30 years later that my father is Roger Fucking Taylor. My idol and favorite member of my most favorite rock band!”

“That is seriously a lot to take in. I mean—if I were in your place I’d be reacting the same way. Lost, betrayed, confused, heartbroken.”

“I just—why would she lie to me? I thought we told each other everything, and she goes and hides for all my life of who my real father was.” I sighed heavily. “You know; I used to always come up with the worst scenarios of why I never had a father. It’s all ranged from the basic ‘you get rid of the baby or I’m leaving you’ scenario. To overdosing or whatever. Or just dying of cancer or some shit like that. But no he’s been living his life as a Rock god. I mean—I should hate him but……he never knew. But then he did, how?”

“Well from what I can tell, and from the pictures you’ve shown me of your mom, you both look similar in a way. But your actions is what really makes you like your mom. I’ve seen all the plays she’s been in as a dancer or ensemble and you have that same fire as she did on the stage. It’s like—you both were made for it.”

“But I guess I get it from both of them.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Still I—I feel so angry with her for lying to me.”

“And it’s okay to be angry. And like you said, Roger didn’t know either. He was kept in the dark about it just as much as you were. But maybe when you got to know them along with Adam it might’ve brought some memories back.” He scooted closer to me and allowed me to rest my head on his shoulder.

“What do I do now?” I asked defeated.

“Well there is one option, but you’re not gonna like it.” We looked at each other and I said.

“You’re right I don’t.”

“But you’ve got to. (Y/n). you can be angry about this but don’t stay mad about it forever. Remember he didn’t know either. It’s not like he packed up and took off. Just tell him how you really feel. I’m not saying you have to accept him and call him dad as soon as you see him. Just—tell him you want to take things slow. Maybe go out for coffee or well tea since he’s British.” I softly laughed at that last remark. “Now there’s that fabulous smile my Eliza is known for.”

“Nice touch calling me my character’s name.”

“I know my Eliza like I know myself.” He shrugged.

“You know that’s Renée’s line right?”

“Yeah I know. Remember I wrote the script.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. C’mon Alexander, I’m hungry and we’ve got an until rehearsal.”

“Sure thing, let us spread our wings and fly away.”

“Okay now you’re just showing off.” I playfully shoved him as we left the theatre and went to go get lunch.

After another couple months, which made it four months since Roger Taylor told me the truth, I found myself in London to where I had told Roger and discussed with him with what I was feeling. He said he was willing to go at whatever speed I needed in order to process this whole thing.

One day after seeing them perform at MSG, Roger and I were sitting together at Central Park right by the Balto statue having a cup of coffee together.

“So what’s new with you my dear?”

“Well…..I’ve been giving this some thought. And—I think it’s time I announced my leaving of Broadway’s Hamilton. Maybe even leaving Broadway all together.”

“Really? What made you decide that?”

“Well. Truthfully I’ve been thinking about……moving to London.” He turned to look at me and I turned to face him. “Now before you say anything I know I should be thinking about this but I have. My aunt and uncle don’t even live remotely close to me so there’s nothing really tying me to New York. And also, I was—hoping that now that Queen’s done with touring for now, maybe you and I could……spend more time together.”

“I would like that very much.” He said with a warm smile. “I just hope you aren’t doing all this just for my sake. Like I told you before, I’m willing to go at your own pace.”

“And I thank you for that Roger. Truly I do. But…..I gotta stop giving into this anger that’s been festering up inside of me. After all you didn’t know about my mom being pregnant when she left you. And—I guess I just need some time away from home.”

“If you need a place to stay until you get on your feet. Or for even longer than that I will not say no to it. You can stay with Sarina and I. We’ve got more than enough rooms.”

“Thanks……..dad.” he looked at me surprised and he said.

“You—you actually called me…..”

“I figured it was about time I did so. I—hope I didn’t make things….”

“No, no, no, no, no not at all love.” He hesitantly reached up towards my face before he finally placed it up against my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his palm. “God. You’re—the perfect mixture of both your mother and myself.”

“You know, Daveed always teased me about just how much I looked like you when you were in drag for the I want to break free music video.” He laughed.

“Oh god that was a fun day on set. Probably one of my favorite videos to shoot.” I smiled softly at him and leaned up against his shoulder and said.

“Do you think they would’ve liked me? John and Freddie I mean.” I felt Roger sigh heavily and he said as I felt his arms wrap around me.

“There’s no doubt in my mind Freddie would’ve tried to spoil you. And John, I’d bet he’d be trying to turn you against me.” I softly chuckled and embraced my dad and nuzzled my head into his shoulder.

The two of us hugging each other finally sitting together as a real father and daughter.

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