#also scrape should be at least another head taller | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonguetiedraven · 3 years ago

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Hi! Hope you're doing well~♡

I'm sick and craving for something that's not angst to read, for this I want to ask you to write the most fluffy, cute, sugary thing you've ever written. The only rule is it have to be Bonrin.

Thank you in advance.

Agh, I'm sorry you're sick! I'm working on something a little longer for you, but in the interim, take a quick 5+1, and feel better!

Rin was short. There was just no way around it. Rin was at least a foot shorter than his twin at this point, which put him over a foot shorter than Bon.

Much like a cat, Rin liked to be tall, and it was an eternal menace to Bon. He had to maintain a constant vigilance, or his bouncy boyfriend would be scaling something without any consideration for his own safety.

“What… what’re you doing?” Bon asked, watching Rin contemplate the bookshelf with his hands on his hips.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rin asked before reaching up and grabbing the third shelf down. He used it to haul himself up, and lifted his foot to the shelf above the ground. Bon got up, chair scraping loudly against the floor, and barely reached Rin as the entire shelf started to sway. He hauled his boyfriend off it before it could collapse on him, and set him back down on the ground beside himself.

“Babe, what the hell?”

“I need the book!” Rin pointed towards the top shelf, not at all caring that the entire bookshelf was still rocking a little.

“For fuc— just ask.” Bon reached up and grabbed the book off the top shelf. He passed it down to Rin who stared at the book, and then up at him.

“That’s not at all fair.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a hell of a lot safer.”

Rin tucked the book against his chest. “Aww, are you worried about me?”

“Worried about school property.”

“And here I thought you were a rebel.”

Bon stuck his tongue out.

Bon was attempting to finish folding the laundry by the table when he was startled by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. He hadn’t heard Rin sneaking up on him, which was shocking by itself. Someone as chaotic and energetic as Rin should not be quiet.

Bon flinched away from the sound only to find the chair set right next to him. Rin scrambled on top of it, so he was slightly taller than Bon, and beamed.

“Rin?” He couldn’t quite help his responding smile.

Instead of answering, Rin grabbed his shoulders and hauled him into a breathtaking kiss. He could hear Rin’s tail whipping happily through the air as he was kissed thoroughly. Bon leaned into it, pushed up into it, and wrapped his hands around Rin’s hips. They were swaying from the force of his wagging, and that alone was enough to send happy and bubbly warmth through Bon’s chest.

“Hi,” Rin murmured when he pulled away, grinning wide enough to show his fangs and make his eyes squinty.

“Hi,” Bon panted back. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to kiss ya.”

Bon blinked and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m awesome,” Rin declared as he clambered back down from the chair. He shoved it against the table Bon was folding on, all smiles and happy tail.

He was awesome, but Bon was a bit biased about the entire thing. “You’re ridiculous, babe.”

Rin twisted on his heel so he was facing Bon again. He reached up, twirled his hand around Bon’s tie, and hauled him down into another kiss.

“It’s not my fault,” Rin said after he’d made Bon entirely breathless again, “that you’re so damn tall.”

“You’re just short.”

Rin scowled, and Bon just sat him on the table to make up for the height difference.

It didn’t take much time with Rin to figure out he was a cuddler. If you weren’t a jackass and you sat near him long enough, he’d probably end up cuddled against you.

Bon happily accepted all the cuddles. Rin fit nicely against his side, and he was naturally warm, which made for relaxing cuddles.

Cuddling in bed was a favorite pass time for both of them. He loved wrapping his arms around Rin and pulling him close. He loved hugging him tight and surrounding all his senses with Rin.

He also loved being hugged by Rin.

Rin liked to be the big spoon. Rin liked to flop behind him and drape his leg over Bon’s and wrap his arms around Bon’s chest.

Bon liked it too, though he didn’t say it a lot. (Honestly, it wasn’t anyone else's business how they cuddled.) He liked how Rin would wiggle closer like he was contemplating the height difference, and then sort of launch himself at Bon’s back. He liked how warm Rin always was, and he liked how Rin’s nose would always press between his shoulder blades to inhale deeply as they fell asleep. He liked that it left Rin’s tail free, and he liked how tightly Rin held him. Rin always had to watch his strength, but late at night when they were together, he’d hold just a bit tighter than he usually did. It made Bon feel like he was cherished, and like Rin couldn’t quite contain the force of his emotions.

It was like having an extremely affectionate blanket or back pack. He felt safe, and he felt loved. He didn’t allow himself to be this sort of thing around anyone else, but he loved doing it with Rin.

Rin flopped onto the bed and made a grabby motion around a yawn. Bon opened his arms up, and before he could do much more than that, Rin was conked out and snoring loudly. Bon hefted him the rest of the distance across the bed, and pulled him on top of his chest.

Despite snoring up a noisy storm, Rin still sprawled out on top of him. He was like the best kind of heated blanket. A bit heavy, but not enough to feel suffocated. He was also the perfect size to hug like this.

It also made his tail wag in a lazy and happy sort of way, even while Rin was conked out. He was perfect for hugging.

Bon pulled the blanket over them both and let his own eyes slip closed. He fell asleep to the rumble of Rin’s chest, warm and relaxed.

He liked knowing Rin was there all through the night. He loved holding him close and making sure Rin was safe through the night.

Rin liked to climb random objects to kiss him, or to get on his level when they were arguing, but Bon’s favorite was when he could sneak up on Rin. There was only one time he really managed to do that, and that was when Rin was cooking. Everything else slid to the back when Rin was cooking.

Bon had sneaking up on Rin in those moments down to a science. A few steps, a pause, make sure his neck and wrists were covered so Rin couldn’t smell him, a few more steps, hold his breath, and finally launch.

He could wrap Rin up tightly with almost no effort. Rin would be wiggling in time to his music, or dancing in place. He’d be stirring, chopping, or folding something, his arms would be moving and they were a bit of a wild card, but Bon could avoid them. He’d get his arms under Rin, around his stomach, and tug him backwards into a hug. He had to watch out for Rin’s tail — no to squish it, and not to get hit by it— and then it was home free.

He loved how he could pop his head on top of Rin’s and peer at whatever he’d been working on. He loved that Rin went stiff with surprise only to immediately relax into his arms when he realized it was Bon. He loved how quickly his boyfriend’s defenses disappeared when it was Bon that had him.

He loved that he could wrap himself around Rin. That he could fully embrace him and shield him from the cruelties of the world. That he could hug him close and engulf him until all Rin could feel was him. He loved how it felt to have Rin wiggle closer and hug himself tighter with Bon’s arm.

Rin was the perfect size for him.

Rin kind of loved that Ryuuji was taller. He loved flinging himself at his bigger boyfriend, and he loved being caught when he did. He loved that Ryuuji was sturdy and always seemed to have a good footing, so he was easy to climb. He loved that Ryuuji didn’t mind having a wild Rin hanging off him. He loved wrapping his arms around Ryuuji’s bulky arm, and squeezing tight. He loved climbing on his back for a piggy back ride—everyone should have a dragoon boyfriend strong enough to do that — and he loved that Ryuuji would pick him up for the tightest sort of hug. The sort of hug that forced his breath out. The sort of hug he could feel hours later.

He loved that Ryuuji would grab tall things for him so he didn’t endanger himself, like he wasn’t the son of Satan and capable of healing from any injury, simply because Ryuuji didn’t want him to get the injuries to begin with. He loved that Ryuuji would put his hand on Rin’s head in a sort of tease about how short he was, and he loved that Ryuuji indulged him with step kisses whenever he had climbed a few to be the same height.

He loved flopping on Ryuuji’s chest like a cat, and he loved watching scary movies and hiding behind Ryuuji’s arm. (It didn’t matter that he was stronger and more powerful than anything in the movie, they were still scary.)

He loved that Ryuuji’s clothes were much too big on him, because that made them more fun to steal and drown himself in them. They felt like Ryuuji’s big hugs, and they were his favorite.

He liked the way they fit together.

#bonrin #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #ryuuji suguro #my tumblr fics #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #bon suguro #aoex #bon/rin #bon x rin #bonfire #i love shorter rin #i hope you feel better #get rests #and read lots of cute fluffy things

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

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Aliit Be Cuur

Pairings: Mando x Reader

Summary: While waiting in the hospital in Mos Pelgo after you were inured in the attack on the Krayt Dragon, Mando accidentally learns some life changing information for the both of you. You’re pregnant.

Warnings: Description of injuries, Pregnancy, Talk about miscarriage, Mando sees a sonogram-like image of reader’s uterus while she’s unconscious, general discussion of pregnancy while reader is unconscious and unaware, made up Star Wars level medical equipment

Word Count: 2800

Read Part 2 Here!

________________________________________

Watching you lay unconscious, body littered in cuts and burns, had to be the most terrifying thing Mando had ever experienced, and that was coming from a man that had seen some horrific things in his life. It was his fault you were hurt. If only his plan to kill the Krayt Dragon had gone as it was supposed to, you wouldn’t be in this position. This was supposed to be what he was good at. Killing. Sure, he killed the dragon, but at what cost?

When the initial plan of luring out the dragon and detonating the explosive just at his weak spot under his belly had gone south, he knew he had to think of something else. He could not leave the Mandalorian armor with Cobb Vanth. He needed it back.

The plan to use the bantha as bait had come to him quickly but he should have known better than to not tell you what he was doing. There was just no time. Everything had happened so fast. After months of travelling together, he’d hoped that maybe by some miracle, you could read his mind and know that everything was going to be okay when he allowed the dragon to swallow him with the bantha.

You were with the villagers and Tusken Raiders, struggling to fix the devices you’d built to throw the harpoons so you’d have a fighting chance. Being so caught up in your own tasks, sweat beading on your forehead from the heat and pressure, you hadn’t known Mando had strapped explosives to the bantha and was using it as bait. A loud screeching roar from the dragon ripped your attention away from the trying to kick a piece of wood back into place just in time to see the dragon’s mouth open, massive teeth bared, as it plunged down, straight on top of Mando and the bantha.

You screamed in horror, running towards the beast, “MANDO!” About halfway there from your post, you whipped out your blaster and shot at the beast as it dove back into the sand. The lasers were useless and you knew that but it was the only thing you could think of to do. Your legs fumbled to a halt, the realization that Mando was really gone actually hitting you.

But then something else hit you.

There was a loud explosion and a wave of fire, rocks, sand, and dragon flesh hit you, throwing your body back. The last thing you saw was the wave of orange and red coming at you before everything went black.

Just as planned, Mando had managed to escape the beast’s clutches before the explosion but suddenly regretted every decision he’d ever made when he saw the little figure of your body running towards where you assumed Mando to be. Even from dozens of feet in the air, he knew it was you. He couldn’t imagine anyone else there willing to run straight at the monster to try and save him. The bombs were sure to detonate any second but by the time he’d noticed you, it was too late. The bomb detonated with a massive wave of heat and debris.

He watched in horror as your body flew back at least twenty feet before sliding another fifteen across the sand after the impact. Time seemed to stop around him as he jetted to you in less than a few seconds. He couldn’t breathe, fear that he had caused your death choking his airways. “Y/N!” He yelled, landing harshly on his feet right beside you before falling to his knees. You were lying face down, eyes closed. “Y/N, talk to me.” Mando looked over your body and, by some miracle, there didn’t appear to be any broken bones, at least not any that looked immediately disfiguring. With a nearly effortless nudge, he rolled your body over. Your clothes had been ripped and/ or singed in many places. Multiple large holes in your pants revealed reddening burns and blood dripping from sand scraped skin. Your shirt was torn in multiple places, the left strap of your shirt torn so severely it could barely count as a sleeve. The side of your face that was on the sand was also scraped up, thankfully not too deep, but enough to cause bleeding.

Now the two of you were in the little hospital in Mos Pelga, along with the rest of those who'd been injured in the attack. You slept now, bandages covering large portions of you body that was now largely exposed. They had had to strip you down to your underwear to reach all the wounds but had wrapped your chest in wrappings in place of a bra for the sake of your privacy. Mando had pulled his cape over the majority of your body, knowing you'd be upset if you were to wake up practically naked in front of everyone.

He hadn't left your side since the explosion. He carried you to the infirmary. He laid you down on the cot. He watched as both human nurses and medic droids worked to patch you up and take blood for tests. They had told Mando that they wouldn’t know anything for sure until the tests came back. Even with the bacta that they’d lathered on you, it would take time for it to work and there was a possibility for further damage that they couldn��t see on the outside.

The child had been sleeping in his little cot, sealed up safely inside the levitating metal object. Mando had just been sitting beside you on a crate, leaning forward on his knees. This was his fault. He should have known you’d run in. He should have known that something like this could happen.

“Mandalorian.” A robotic voice gently called for Mando’s attention.

He looked up at the awkwardly proportioned grey medic droid who stood on the opposite side of the bed. “Is she going to be okay?”

The droid spoke again, its body shifting unnecessarily to emphasize some of its words, “Patient 728, also known as Y/N. Female. Age: (Y/A). 2nd degree burns on the abdomen, arms, and legs. Superficial graze abrasions on the face, neck, arms, hands, abdomen, and legs. Bruising on face, back, hips, and legs. Probability of death: 7%. No damage to the fetus. Probability of miscarriage: 19%.”

Mando found a hard time finding any solace in the words of a droid. When a young male nurse walked up beside the droid, Mando immediately turned his attention to him.

“It’s a miracle the baby survived unharmed. I’ve seen much less cause a miscarriage.” The nurse mused, flipping through the clipboard in his hands.

Mando stood up, brows furrowed beneath the helmet, “That must be someone else’s chart.”

The nurse flipped back to the front page, “Patient 728? Y/N L/N?” The young man confirmed.

“Yes.”

He shook his head, “Nope, this is hers.”

Mando gestured to you, “There must have been a mistake. She’s not pregnant.”

The young nurse looked at the beskar helmet that he was actually slightly taller than and swallowed hard, “I’m sorry. I assumed that you were the father. If not, this is confidential information that I can’t share with you.” It was obvious that the man was afraid to stand up to a Mandalorian, surely hundreds of stories of their superior killing ability running through his head. Nonetheless, he held fast to what was right.

Mando’s head was reeling and all he wanted was to run and take off the helmet and take actual, non-filtered breaths. Instead, he was wide eyed and silent as thoughts ran through his head a million lightyears an hour. The beskar betrayed none of his emotions. To the rest of the world, he appeared frozen, standing strong and staring right at the nurse when in reality Mando had zoned out somewhere off to the side.

If you were pregnant, the baby had to be his. For the last few months, the two of you had had an unofficial relationship of sorts. Nothing was ever said, no official labels, but the two of you behaved like any other couple, or at least a much less touchy-feely version of one. After a night of confessions brought on by an unrelated argument, it had become an unspoken truth that you were only taken by each other. You were his riduur, no doubt, and, as far as he knew, he was yours. You would never lay with another man as long as you and Mando were together, that much he was sure of.

“If she’s pregnant, I am the father.” His voice was calm as always but he thanked the modulator for the slight distortion. If it hadn’t been there, he would have sounded shaky.

The nurse sighed, choosing to believe him because he really didn’t see much use in lying over something like this. He flipped to the next page on his chart and walked over to stand beside Mando, pointing at some numbers that meant nothing to him. “hCG is a hormone that’s created in the placenta and is only present in pregnant women. According to her levels, I’d say she’s about eight weeks.” He paused for a moment, allowing time for the new information to sink in. “You really didn’t know?”

“If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have let her fight the Krayt Dragon.” Mando snapped, almost angry at the mere suggestion that he would put his own child in that sort of danger.

The nurse put his hand up in defense before continuing, “Do you think she knows?”

Mando shook his head. He believed that you still would have jumped into battle even if you had known, at least from a distance. It was just who you were. But he really didn’t think you had any idea that you were pregnant. Mando had been trained to read people his entire life and surely such news would have brought about some change in your demeanor. Mando hadn’t noticed any change in your behavior. Besides, he would like to believe that you would have told him if you knew.

He couldn’t believe this. How were you pregnant? Okay, well he knew how you could have possibly gotten pregnant but the two of you had always tried to be as safe as you could to avoid this exact scenario. Neither of you were in a position for children, the Child being a special circumstance. Your life was full of danger and violence. How could Mando protect you for an entire nine months while pregnant and then for the rest of forever, while also protecting the Child against what felt like an entire galaxy that wanted him at any cost?

“Do you want to see?” The nurse’s voice brought Mando back to the present and his helmet tilted in curiosity.

“See what?”

“The baby. I need to do a scan to ensure that it's still doing alright. You can see the fetus on the screen while you scan.” He set the clipboard at the foot of your bed and procured a moderately sized glass panel with a metal border that he’d had pinned between his arm and side while he spoke to Mando.

With a few taps on the glass, bright blue words and images appeared. He tapped on one selection and the middle of the screen cleared, aside from a thin column on the right hand side that had stats and vitals. “See, if you put anything under this, it will show you an interior view of the body. This mode shows organs and blood vessels and stuff like that. See?” The nurse put his hand under the glass panel. The screen showed a light blue version of his hand but instead of skin and nails, it clearly showed the lines of his muscles and the veins that overlapped them clearly.

Politely as he could, he pulled the cape that had been draped over you down just enough to expose your lower belly, stopping just above the hemline of your underwear. The only thing indicating that you were even alive at this point was the deep inhale you took, drawing both Mando’s and the nurse’s attention. It was the only time Mando hoped that you weren’t waking up. He had no idea how to explain this new situation to you. Hell, he was still having a hard time understanding it for himself. Thankfully, a deep breath was all it was though. You were still asleep.

The nurse moved the glass panel over your lower stomach, just about where your belly button was, and the image began to form on the screen as he adjusted a few things. Mando’s helmet tilted forward as he leaned over to see the image.

A nearly perfect view of your reproductive system appeared as a blue digital image. Mando felt uncomfortable looking at the image, feeling like he was violating you in some way. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at this without your permission but then the nurse zoomed in on your uterus to the point where the only thing that could really be seen was a little being.

Mando’s first thought was that it looked like a little alien. There was an identifiable head that appeared to be looking down and the cord that was attached to you through its belly. The rest of the body was curled into a fetal position.

The nurse tapped something on the screen and there was a rapid thudding sound that emanated from the device.

“Is that the heartbeat?” Mando asked, knowing that the answer was probably obvious. For someone who was used to working under pressure, he felt like his brain was only receiving radio static.

“Mhm, nice and strong.” The nurse said with a warm smile. He tapped a few notes onto the board and then turned it off, the blue image disappearing and the amplified heartbeat ceasing.

Mando couldn't believe this was happening. How could you not know you were pregnant? He was no expert on the female body, aside from the basics, but weren't you supposed to be throwing up or missing periods or something? He couldn't wrap his head around how you were eight weeks along with seemingly no clue of your condition.

"Look, I can see that clearly this was something unexpected. I don't know if this is something you want to tell her or want me to, but either way, there are some conversations you two need to have." The nurse told Mando matter-of-factly while gathering the few things he’d brought over before leaving.

Mando shifted on his feet and reached down to pull his cape back up over your torso so you wouldn’t be cold and exposed, though it was mostly for the second reason. It was next to impossible to be cold on Tatooine, at least during the day. That was when he noticed the small, barely there bump on your lower stomach. It was such a slight variation from its normal size that he never would have noticed it had he not just learned about the life now growing inside you. It was so slight that he imagined you probably would have just attributed it to bloating perhaps, since you were unaware as well, considering all the less-than-pleasant food you both came across in your work.

Part of him wanted to place his hands over the ever-so-slight swell of your belly, just to see if by some chance he could feel anything. Mando decided against it, shaking his helmet at himself with a heavy sigh. He would wait until you woke up and the two of you had a chance to discuss everything before he did anything relating to the baby.

Gently, he pulled the cape back up over your body and sat down on the crate again, leaning his elbows on his knees where he sat with his thoughts for several minutes in a zoned out daze. His attention was only broken by the cooing from the Child’s metal pram. Mando tapped on the controls on his arm, opening the pram, and removing the little green baby who was now wide awake.

“Hey, buddy.” Mando breathed out, watching as the baby stretched his arms out to you, “I know, I know. She’ll wake up soon.”

The Child looked up at Mando sadly before snuggling down onto his lap, sitting there comfortably. The weight of such a small being had become comfortable and normal for Mando now after all this time with him. He was, by Creed, his son now. Mando was already a father. You had stepped up as a mother for the young child. So why did this feel different?

Mando imagined the new future, assuming you had decided to stay with him and care for the baby together. He had every intention of raising the baby with you and would do whatever it took to keep the two of you safe. He loved you more than he knew was possible to love another person and the last thing he wanted was to leave. Mando hoped that, one day, you would be officially bound by riduurok. Once the Alor approved it, Mando’s clan of two would become an aliit be cuur. Clan of four.

#mando x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #mando x you #mando imagine #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djaren #din djarin fics #pedro pascal #dad!mando #mando x pregnant!reader #star wars #star wars imagines

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

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Double edged scalpel ch.10

Ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8 ch9

Summary: scary moms are scary

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Nicole stilled.

Moms.

Well this just got a million times worse.

Surprisingly enough, Nicole could count on her fingers the times she had crossed paths with either of the Ladies. Lady Dimitrescu was often busy and not bothering with the staff. Most things that needed communicated went through the Steward. Mistress Esteria was, as some would call her, a ghost. She preferred her solitude or time with family so it wasn't unheard of for new staff members to take months before they even see her around the castle. Paired with Nicole's job that had her in the dungeons almost all the time, she never got an actual introduction to either of them.

Not that she complained. It didn't take a genius to realize that both women were to be feared.

I think I'd like to bleed out now.

"What about?" Her voice was barely audible, due to fear or pain was anyone's guess.

"... I don't know." Cassandra's quiet voice mimicked her own.

"Should I assume it is about your um… choice of partners?"

The realization that, to anyone outside Cassandra, she was little more than a maid turned butcher hit Nicole almost as much as the bullet that until not long ago was wedged into her flesh. Would they forbid Cassandra from seeing her? Or perhaps decide that Nicole has committed an unspeakable offense to their family and punish her? She gulped and Cassandra's reply wasn't of much help either.

"I don't know," she repeated.

Nicole sighed, a slow drawn out exhale, all too aware of the pain it would cause otherwise. "When?"

"Soon. They told me to let them know when you wake up."

Nicole just nodded and laid back into the cushions. May as well be comfortable before facing death. But Cassandra didn't move. Instead, she interlocked their fingers and brought Nicole's hand to her lips, leaving a kiss on bony knuckles. They stayed like that, silently, for a full minute before Cassandra got up and, with a be right back, exited the room.

Left alone, Nicole looked down at herself once more. To say she looked awful was an understatement. Definitely not going to rely on appearance to make a good impression. The painkiller was also yet to do its job and any movement still shot jolts of pain through her body. Wonderful.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and Cassandra came in followed by Lady Dimitrescu, her trademark hat making her look even taller and more intimidating than she already was. Immediately behind, Mistress Esteria took light steps, her long white hair flowing behind her like a silky mantle.

They looked so in contrast with each other, and it went beyond the almost opposite color schemes. While the Lady had the expression of a mother about to scold her child for carelessly running up the stairs and scraping a knee, the Mistress looked about to take out the bandaids. Her eyes, blue and gray, looked at her with something akin to kindness.

"What's your name dear?"

God her voice sounded like rivers deep in the forest. Flowing and ancient and just as powerful as she probably was.

"Nicole," she gulped.

The Mistress came to a stop right by the bed, tall frame bending down and grabbing Nicole's chin between two fingers. She moved her head from one side to the other and hummed.

"My my, what a pretty face. You've always had quite the taste in women, love." She looked at Cassandra who only nodded stiffly.

Then, she was up again and moving towards the other matriarch, who by now was sitting in an armchair. The Mistress leaned on the armrest, opting to ignore the many other places to sit and Nicole had to wonder for a moment if they were the clingy type. What an oddly human trait.

A long drag of a cigarette was drawn out before golden eyes finally fell on Nicole and the Lady spoke.

"I was actually surprised to learn about how… deeply Cassandra cares about you. To actually come to me and ask for help saving your life." She narrowed her eyes slightly, just enough for it to be a clear warning. "I sure hope such kindness was not wasted on you."

Sensing where this conversation was going, Nicole groaned internally. Of all things, she would rather not have the break my daughter's heart and I'll break your legs conversation with Cassandra's mothers while a damn hole in her abdomen was still sending waves of pain through her body if she didn't move just right. In her defense, the painkiller was yet to kick in and there's only so much holding her tongue she can do while in pain.

"With all due respect my Ladies, I'd rather throw myself off the highest tower in this castle than pretend to love Cassandra. Have you met her."

That got a snort from the brunette, who quickly masked it with a cough. The Mistress however laughed. A melodic laugh that, in another situation, would be the most soothing thing.

"Oh dear. While the reassurance is appreciated, we do trust Cassandra's judgement."

"For the most part," Lady Dimitrescu added, eyes still narrowed.

"And we would love to have you for dinner soon," the Mistress went on, ignoring the small glare from her wife.

Another drag of the cigarette. "Well anyways. We didn't come here for a welcoming party. We'd like to make you a proposal."

Judging by Cassandra's furrowed brows, she probably knew as little about this as Nicole did. A proposal from Lady Dimitrescu could either be wonderful news or a death sentence. She couldn't help a gulp when the Lady continued.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do care about my staff. At least those who prove themselves useful." The cigarette was finally done and now Nicole had the luck of having her full attention. "And, as you may have guessed, medical training is not particularly common around here. I do happen to want a castle physician, a position that could be filled by someone skilled that also has a good reason to do a good job and be loyal to my family."

Wait what-

Nicole blinked in confusion, an expression mimicked by Cassandra. Did she mean…?

Lady Dimitrescu raised an eyebrow. "Do you accept?"

"Y- yes." The words spilled from her mouth without a second thought. And why would she have second thoughts after all?

Lady Dimitrescu watched her for a long moment. Then, when she seemed pleased with her findings, she rose to her feet.

"Very well. We will discuss the technicalities once you're in a better state. Now try not to bleed out before you even start your job. And," she sighed, "you are expected at dinner as soon as you're able to join us."

The last part caused her wife's lips to turn into a warm smile. The Lady simply turned around and ducked out of the room while Mistress Esteria lingered by Cassandra. She whispered something only the brunette could hear and then leaned in to kiss her forehead. The Mistress had a couple inches on Cassandra, which meant she was towering over Nicole. Then, with a smile in her direction, she too was out of the room, leaving only the two of them to stare at the door in disbelief.

"Well that went… well."

"Oh for the love of Mother Miranda," Cassandra sighed in relief, hands running through her hair.

Her shoulders lost their tension when she came to sit by Nicole's side, a smile now present on thin black lips.

"Your mothers seem… lovely women."

"Shut up you were scared shitless."

There goes Nicole's attempt at being polite. Not that Cassandra was wrong by all means, but part of her wanted to be on good terms with her lover's family. Maybe it was simply due to her relationship with the brunette, maybe it was due to how her own family never seemed to care much for each other. Not the way the Dimitrescus did, despite how they were seen as monsters by most outside eyes. She didn't let herself dwell on it, instead she took one of Cassandra's hands and started to play with slender fingers.

"Are you hungry? I can ask Cynthia to fix something for you."

Nicole smiled at the effort to make her feel better. She would never get tired of seeing Cassandra's caring and gentle side, especially when she knew how ruthless she could be otherwise.

"In a bit. I'm waiting for the painkiller to fully kick in so I can actually sit up."

Cassandra nodded and looked to the side, seemingly lost in some kind of thought. Nicole wanted to ask what got the brunette pensive all of a sudden, but before she could, golden eyes snapped back to her.

"Also. Don't you dare jump in front of a bullet for me ever again. It wouldn't have hurt me anywhere near as much as it hurt you."

There was a subtle growl in her voice that would have scared any other person. But Nicole recognized how the anger was just veiled worry at how much worse their situation could’ve gotten.

"Sorry. I just saw him with the gun and panicked." There was a reason she didn't pursue her father's idea of becoming a surgeon after all, and pissing him off was only part of it. "And I'm glad you didn't get hurt at all."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, but her expression quickly softened. The big bad sadist couldn’t stay mad at her lover and Nicole almost teased her about it, but a gloved hand slowly caressing her cheek stopped her.

“I’m just happy you’re alive.”

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x maiden #fanfic #double edged scalpel

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years ago

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The Odd Ones Out

Kíli x OC (platonic)

Summary: Tullaina and Kíli were best friends from day one. Getting into a fight to the death together tends to do that to you. Of course, it wasn’t actually to the death, but Kíli kept insisting it had been a close call. This is the story of how their friendship started.

Warnings: bullying, young Kíli (Tullaina and Kíli are 34 and 33 in this one, which is the dwarven equivalent of a young teenager)

OC: Tullaina, you can read her character sheet here

A/N: My first oneshot with Tullaina! A big, massive thank you to @lathalea who helped me find the motivation to finish this and gave me the nudges and the kick to my butt that I needed to keep going! I love you! Also a thank you (and maybe an apology too) to @anjhope1 and @laurfilijames because they had to hear me nag and complain about this story over and over again :)

Kidizbuhâ. Friendship.

What exactly is friendship? What defines it? It’s something Tullaina always wondered about.

According to one of master Balin’s many books, it can be described as a state between two or more individuals, a mutual affection that is strictly platonic.

Your best friend is even more than that. They are that one special person who sticks with you no matter what. You talk about anything and everything, have fun together, comfort each other, and you accept one another with all their flaws. It’s almost like finding your One, but without the romantic love.

Tullaina had often dreamed of finding that one true friend...

Born and raised in the mountains of Ered Luin, she had a pretty normal childhood as a pebble. With only a few friends and a loving family, she was as happy as a young girl could be.

When she grew older, her friends’ appearance started to change.

They grew wider, more muscular and their facial hair started to grow out. Each of them turned into perfect examples of how a sturdy dwarf or dwarrowdam should look like.

Tullaina however stayed exactly the same. She grew in height, but kept her lanky figure. She filled out the appropriate places, but not as much as her friends or peers. Her freckles became more pronounced and the increase of birthmarks started to raise questions among those so-called ‘friends’. And on top of that, as if she couldn’t be ridiculed enough already, she lacked the pride of every Dwarf… facial hair. A fine layer of down hairs where her sideburns should be was all she could grow, and it was barely even visible.

There was no denying that she looked different than your average Dwarrowdam at that age.

And that’s when the teasing and bullying began.

One by one, she lost her friends, none of them wanted to be associated with the ‘elf child’ or khathzith, as they started calling her.

Everywhere she went, she could hear the dreaded word, whispered among the people of the Blue Mountains. And after a while, Tullaina started to believe them. Maybe she wasn’t a Dwarf after all?

No matter how many times her parents had tried to convince her she was of full Dwarven descent, a proud Longbeard, she never stopped asking whether what they said about her was true.

Maybe she was a late bloomer, like her mother sometimes said in an attempt to comfort her. When Tullaina’s tears had dried up, she usually told her daughter the story about her late auntie Marthosia whose beard only started to grow after she turned 30, and it turned out to be the most glorious beard of them all. The Dwarrows stood in line to ask for her courtship. And every time Tullaina would simply roll her eyes and thank her mother.

By the time she turned 30, there was still no trace of a beard or proper sideburns. Not that Tullaina had expected anything, but she couldn’t deny that there was a tiny sliver of hope left that maybe, maybe she was like auntie Marthosia after all.

Her mother eventually stopped telling the story and Tullaina had given up all hope. She started to isolate herself more, hardly leaving the safety of her home, losing herself in books and her own imagination.

The only time she would leave the house by herself was to visit the mines and bring her father his lunch when he forgot to bring it with him. Which happened a lot more than you would think. Tullaina suspected her father did this on purpose to get her out of the house more often, but she never said anything about it.

It was on one of those trips that she ran into Kíli for the first time...

Tullaina hurried through the small, slippery streets of the mountain city, her shawl wrapped securely around her head and neck, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

She was on her way back from the mines having delivered her father’s lunch, but she’d dawdled when the baker’s cat had crossed her path. It wasn’t her fault she absolutely had to pet it, right?

So now she was in a hurry to get home. And she would have been there in a matter of minutes, if her ears hadn’t picked up the teasing laughter coming out of one of the dead-end side alleys.

On any other day she would have tucked her scarf a little tighter around her, bowed her head a little deeper to avoid any unwanted attention, and definitely walk a little faster.

But it turned out today wasn’t like any other day…

There could be many reasons as to why she felt the need to investigate further. Some would call it being adventurous, fate, maybe even Mahal’s will if you want. But for Tullaina it was her sense of injustice that drove her to the alley.

There was something familiar about the laughter that made her suspect this wasn’t just some friends having fun. She tiptoed towards the corner of the building and peeked around the corner.

Her curiosity often got the better of her and her mother used to warn (okay fine, she guaranteed it) that it would get her into serious trouble one day. Who knows, maybe her mother was right after all...

At the end of the dead-end alley she could see three dwarves, at first sight probably not much older than she was. It was almost comical how they were all so different but clearly looking like they were up to no good: you had the short one with flaming red hair, the muscles and then one who was fairly normal at first until he grinned and Tullaina could see he was missing a front tooth. These three dwarves practically screamed trouble.

They were all looking at a boy who was standing in the middle of the trio.

The boy had shoulder length brown hair with no braids. He was taller than the others and had a slender build. He was wearing a simple dark blue tunic and black trousers, and his unruly hair framed a kind face with large brown eyes. No beard.

And that’s precisely what they were bullying him about...

Tullaina could hear the insults they were throwing at him, she flinched because she knew them all too well - having heard them many times before - and something in her snapped. Before she realised what she was doing, she called out to them.

“Oi!”

All four heads turned towards her.

Well, that’s what you get for calling out to them, she thought. Now what? Quick, say something so they’ll know you mean business!

“Leave him alone!”

Oh wow, she thought, almost rolling her eyes at herself. Great choice, that’ll make them tremble with fear!

The boys started snickering, excited about the prospect of another victim. One of them grabbed the beardless one by the shoulder and pushed him forward.

The Muscles came up towards Tullaina and it took all her restraint not to take a step back.

“Aww Kíli, look at that, your girl is here to save you!”

“I said, leave him alone,” she repeated, trying to look confident by straightening her back and balling her fists at her side, but her voice gave her away. It earned her a chuckle from the dwarf in front of her.

“No, this can’t be his girl,” he sneered, removing her scarf, “Look at her face, not a hair in sight! It’s the same babyface as our dear Kíli. Who would’ve thought there were more of you khathzith?” (young Elves)

Oh, he should not have said that!

The familiar insult triggered something in her and her hands moved on instinct. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed with all the strength she had.

It took him by surprise, he didn’t have the time to brace himself and he fell on his back in the dirt with a grunt. Mistake number one.

One of his companions, the one with the flaming red hair lunged forward and pushed her in turn. Tullaina didn’t stand a chance with the force he was using against her lanky figure and immediately fell to the ground. She cried out when her arm scraped against a small rock. Mistake number two.

They started laughing at her, until the one who was holding Kíli cried out in pain.

When Tullaina looked up she saw him clutching his nose with both of his hands, tears springing in his eyes.

Before she could figure out what had happened, Kíli threw himself on the redhead with a loud cry of “Du Bekâr!” and something about not laying your hands on a lady. Or... that he shouldn’t have handed him a baby?

It wasn’t her fault that it was difficult to understand him with all the shouting and the curses being thrown around. If her mother was near she would’ve covered her ears. Luckily for Tullaina she wasn’t, at least now she could learn a thing or two for future use!

But this actually was the moment she should have decided it was time to go. Mistake number three.

They were all distracted and not paying attention to her whatsoever, the short one was still busy crying over his nose, the redhead was wrestling with Kíli and Muscles just stood by and watched it all happen for some reason. Really, what was stopping her from running? Her more reasonable side was yelling at her to go home. Let the boys fight it out themselves!

But she couldn’t leave this Kíli to himself now, could she? After he so valiantly defended her? No one ever stood up for her before, and here he was literally fighting for her honor.

No, she couldn’t leave him…

When Muscles finally noticed Tullaina was still there, he came towards her with a loud roar - or what should’ve been a roar, it was more a gargle really - and the decision was made for her. She was going to fight.

Well… It seemed her mother was right after all. Her curiosity got her into trouble.

One of the last things Dís had expected to see when she opened her door was a pair of young Dwarves, battered and bruised. Well… half of the duo was her youngest son, so their disheveled state shouldn’t come as a big surprise.

“Amad, this is Tullaina,” Kíli introduced his new friend with a wide smile, wiping a drop of blood off his chin with the back of his hand like it was the most natural thing to do. His left eye was a little swollen and starting to bruise. And still he was as chipper as ever.

Tullaina waved timidly, getting a bit uncomfortable. She had recognized the dwarrowdam as soon as she opened the door and suddenly it had clicked in her head who Kíli was. She knew how this might look and the last thing she wanted was to get in more trouble. Typical of her to befriend a prince of all people…

“Nice to meet you, Tullaina.” Dís smiled kindly to let her know she wasn’t angry. It seemed to relax Tullaina a little, her shoulders slacked and she returned her smile.

After the introduction Dís switched into full mother hen mode and ushered the two inside, so she could take care of their injuries and hopefully get some answers to the many questions that flooded her mind. For one, who Tullaina was. As far as she knew, she hadn’t seen the girl before. And Dis took pride in knowing everyone in Ered Luin.

But getting the information out of these two turned out to be a lot harder than Dís had initially thought.

She told them to sit down at the dinner table while she got everything she needed to clean their wounds.

At first sight it was only Kíli’s busted lip that needed attention, their bruises would heal on their own.

When the only daughter of Thraín asked her youngest how he and his new friend got their bruises and Kíli his busted lip, he only shrugged his shoulders.

Kíli clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

And that worried her, because if there was one thing Kíli liked to do, it was talking her ears off about what he had done or discovered while out with Fíli or by himself.

She guessed he probably stood up for Tullaina and had valiantly defended or even rescued her, in which case Dís wouldn’t hear the end of it. So the silence of her youngest was rather alarming, to say the least.

In the end, it was Tullaina who reluctantly explained to her that she stumbled upon Kíli and a couple of other young Dwarves, who felt the need to mock the young prince.

Dís’ eyes widened and her hand that was cleaning the dried blood around his mouth, froze midair. The cut on his lip had finally stopped bleeding, and it looked a lot worse than it actually was.

“Kíli, that is still no reason to start a fight! And certainly not in the presence of a lady.”

Kíli straightened his back at the scolding of his mother, but didn’t contradict her.

“He didn’t start the fight, Lady Dís, I did,” Tullaina answered before Kíli could stop her.

The large Dwarrowdam frowned, and she absentmindedly started stroking her beard. She was happy Kíli seemed to have made a friend who was not Fíli, but if she turned out to be a troublemaker…

Her sons definitely didn’t need help in that department.

“Now why did you do that, nadanê?” she asked her. (my child) “Amad, please just let it go,” Kíli said before Tullaina had the chance to explain. “I wasn’t asking you, Kíli.”

Tullaina hesitated. What if lady Dís blamed her for his injuries, or getting him into the fight in the first place?

Her new friend obviously didn’t want his mother to know about the bullying and she understood that better than anyone. Tullaina herself had kept a lot from her mother, the things she had to go through, all the insults, the name calling, the laughter…

But she also knew her new friend needed someone he could talk to. When it gets too bad, you need to vent, let everything out. And since she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome again in Lady Dís’ house after today, it might be better to tell his mother what had happened.

“They were teasing and bullying him about stuff they used to bully me for as well,” she finally caved.

“And what might that be?”

“Our lack of dwarven features,” Tullaina answered, as she lowered her eyes. “I’ve been bullied and made fun of for years because I don’t have a proper beard, and don’t look like most other dwarrowdams… So you see, my Lady, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. But they would not listen! So I pushed one of them and started the fight.”

“I see,” Dis hummed, before she placed her hands on Kili’s and Tullaina’s knees. “You did what you felt was right, and that is very admirable. Nadanê, never let anyone make you feel inferior. No matter what you look like, what you have or do not have. It’s what’s inside that matters. You’re both courageous, headstrong and maybe a little reckless too, but that’s alright. That sounds like a true dwarf to me.”

Tullaina smiled in return. It wasn’t a lot different from what her own mother would say when she tried to comfort her, but somehow when Lady Dis said it, it added more weight to it.

“Now tell me about the fight?” Dis smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Kíli’s head shot up and his eyes sparkled, and Dis knew that look all too well. Now she was going to hear every single detail about their little adventure.

“So I found myself surrounded by, I don’t know, ten, maybe twelve other dwarves-”

“Three. There were three Dwarves, Kíli,” Tullaina interrupted with a straight face.

“It’s not like I was counting them!” he said to Tullaina, before he turned to his mother again. “I was too busy fighting for my life!”

“I bet you were,” Dís chuckled.

Kíli explained how he was trying to find a way out so he could run home, but they wouldn’t let him.

“And then Tullaina showed up and she came to help me, Amad. She gave the biggest one a shove, can you believe?! But then one of the other dwarves pushed her to the ground! You and uncle always told me I should treat all dwarrowdams with respect, right? But I don’t think his parents told him, because why would he do that? Anyway, then Tullaina hurt her arm,” Kíli paused his rambling and grabbed Tullaina’s arm to show the scratch she got when she fell, but she immediately pulled her arm free and muttered something like ‘i’m fine, it’s nothing’. Dís made a mental note to clean it later.

“So I had to defend her honor! Fíli will be so proud of me when he hears about it, I punched that atnuzab right on the nose!” (prick)

“Then how did you get your lip cut and your eye so bruised?” his mother asked him, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It was better to let him continue his story, but it was Tullaina who cut in.

“It turned out the atnuzab knew how to hit back,” she grinned.

“And that’s when the fight really took off,” Kíli continued enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face.

While Dís took care of Tullaina’s arm, he explained everything in detail, waving his arms in excitement, while the girl filled in the blanks or corrected him, which happened surprisingly often.

Dís chuckled every time it happened. It was refreshing to see Kíli being reprimanded for not telling the truth or exaggerating by someone his own age. Who knows, maybe Tullaina will turn out to be a positive influence on her son and his vivid imagination?

“And then he ran off, crying about his bloody nose,” Kíli cackled, holding on to Tullaina’s shoulder to keep himself up since he was laughing so hard.

“Which I believe you gave him?” Dís commented.

“I did,” he said proudly, wiping a tear away. “A true warrior I was!”

“Or tried to at least, did you forget you tripped over your own feet? Twice?” Tullaina laughed, recalling both times she had to help him up before the bullies could get to him.

“I was creating a diversion!”

Tullaina raised an eyebrow at that in disbelief, but decided to let it slide.

Dís shook her head at their friendly banter and left for the kitchen, taking the bowl and the dirty rags with her.

Tullaina watched her leave and smiled to herself. Isn’t it strange how one hastily made decision had changed her entire day? It had been ages since she laughed this much, it was amazing how quickly she felt comfortable in Kíli’s company. Was this what true friendship felt like?

When she looked back at Kíli, she caught him already staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a frown.

“Thank you,” he said. “You came to help me and I’ll never forget that.”

Tullaina felt her face flush at how sincere he was, his big brown eyes looking at her intently.

“Don’t mention it,” she grinned, playing with her fingers in her lap.

They sat side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, their hands tucked away under their thighs before Tullaina spoke up again.

“You know, I need to thank you too,” she said, bumping her shoulder against Kíli’s.

“Me? What for?”

“Defending my honor.”

Kíli gave her a broad smile and puffed out his chest. “It was the right thing to do. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.” He placed his hand on his heart to emphasize his words.

Tullaina believed him. Kíli seemed that kind of person who would rather follow his heart than his head, someone who would act on impulse before thinking about the possible consequences.

“Besides, friends take care of each other right?” he continued, pushing himself off the table.

Dís returned from the kitchen with two slices of cake in her hand.

“I believe you’ve more than deserved this,” she smiled. “A good fight works up quite an appetite.”

The two new friends eagerly accepted the treat, and while they were eating Dís watched them carefully. She had noticed how these two interacted with each other; as if they had been lifelong friends, even though they met mere moments ago. Yes, this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Tullaina. Dís was sure of it.

That reminded her of something…

“How come I haven’t seen you around, Tullaina?”

“I like to stay home, inside, where it’s safe,” the girl looked down in embarrassment and whispered. “There... there are no bullies there.”

“Then why were you even out there in the first place?” Kíli wondered.

“Kíli!” Dís chided him. She gave him a stern look but he didn’t even falter and looked at her expectantly.

Tullaina chuckled. She kind of liked Kíli’s cheekiness and lack of filter when he spoke. It was a nice change from the usual harsh words and sneers she had to hear from others.

“It’s fine. My adad works in the mines and I sometimes bring him his lunch,” she explained to Kíli.

“He does? I know where that is!” he said enthusiastically. “You know what? Next time you have to go there, I’ll go with you!”

“That’s a great idea, Kíli,” Dís agreed, she couldn’t be happier that her youngest had found a new friend. He was starting to get lonely now Fíli spent more time with Thorin. Tullaina might be exactly what he needed to stay out of trouble.

But Tullaina shook her head. “No, I can’t ask that of you! I’m-I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“Nonsense,” Dís waved her concern away. “You’re always welcome here, Tullaina.”

When Tullaina said her goodbyes - her mother will be worried sick by now - she had to promise Dís to come back the next day.

Kíli caught her off guard a bit when he hugged her, squeezing a lot harder than she expected him to.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and then his eyes lit up and a face-splitting grin appeared.

“What?”

“I can’t wait for you to meet my brother!”

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @aduialel @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @moony-artnstuff @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky @emmapotato88 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @moarfandomtrash

If your name is scratched through, it means I couldn’t tag you! You might want to check your settings ;)

#Tullaina #Kili x OC #Kili #Ered Luin #Kili oneshot #My OC #Dwarf OC #The Hobbit imagine #The Hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit #Kili x reader #Young!Kili #Young Kili #Dis #The life of dwarves #Guardianofrivendell oc #Tullaina x Kili #The Hobbit x reader #The Hobbit oneshot

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incorrectnessduskwood · 4 years ago

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I know I'm just posting incorrect quotes but I wrote this on Sunday after more than six months without writing anything and I liked it, so I thought someone out there may like it too. Enjoy! :D

Pairing: Jake x Charlie (my MC)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, spoilers for ep 8

Charlie walked up the steps slowly, her backpack weighing down her shoulders, the take-out bags of Chinese clenched tightly in her left hand. She checked her phone the hundredth time since leaving her house, making sure she had gotten the right address. The restaurant in front of the motel was a pretty compelling evidence that yes, she was in the right place, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had gotten something wrong; if she did, this was going to be a tad awkward for whoever was on the other side of the door.

Reaching the number 543, Charlie finally put the phone in her pocket, letting out a shaky breath out through her mouth. Pushing her hair out of her face, she closed her eyes and counted to five.

You’re fine. You’re in the right place. He’ll be happy to see you, you know that. Pissed maybe, but certainly happy too. Just knock on the door and everything will be okay

Finally, she knocked twice on the door, quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear but loud enough for him to hear; she only hoped he wouldn’t think she was one of the people that were after him. Time seemed to pass slowly and Charlie started to get restless. She tapped her foot on the floor, her breathing getting shakier with each passing second that she didn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. The bags in her hand were hot enough to warm her hand and she changed them to the her right hand, rasing her left one to knock again when there was finally shuffling in the room. Quietly, she waited for something to happen: for him to ask who it was, for him to start packing all of his things in a rush or for the door to open, she wasn’t sure which one.

Not bearing the silence and the lack of reaction, she finally talked, “You know, it’s kind of rude to leave a friend waiting outside in this weather. Specially when she has brought food.”

That, at last, got a reaction from him. Charlie heard footsteps, a loud noise followed by a curse, and the sound of the lock of the door. It didn’t open but she knew it wouldn’t take long anymore. He may not have known what her voice sounded like but he would know what to ask of her to know he’s safe; and she knew exactly what to answer.

“It’s also rude to just stop by the door when we both know you want to ask something so I’ll prove who I am.” No answer. With a sigh, she continued, “What was the first thing I asked about you when we started talking?”

Silence followed by some shuffling. Then, “You asked what kind of hack programs I use and I listed four of them to you.” Charlie smiled. I knew it was him. “What did you tell was your imagination about meeting me?”

“I imagined you were wearing your black hoodie, like you probably are now. I imagined your eyes looked so familiar because you are so familiar to me already. I imagined you would hold me in your arms and tell me everything would be okay because we were together.”

It took five seconds for the lock to turn and the door to open. Charlie stared at him with a soft expression, looking for his eyes to see the familiarity she knew she would find and learning what he really looked like; Jake was tall—a lot more taller than her—his long hair was as black as a moonless sky, his eyes a clear grey, dark bags from sleepless nights under them, his skin thin and pale from being closed off for so long. He was indeed using a hoodie, but this one was a dark blue instead of black, a Metallica T-shirt badly hidden under it.

Charlie knew he was staring at her just intently, memorizing her face, and she let him. She watched his eyes wander through her face, the lines around them softening and making him look a lot younger than he actually was. Amazement was etched in his face, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and Charlie thought she had never seen someone as beautiful as Jake; she wasn’t sure if it was because she was finally seeing him in front of her, or if it was because of the way he was looking at her, or if it was just the fact that she was so goddam happy for having found him. Whatever it was, Charlie was certain Jake was the most amazing human being she had ever seen.

After a few minutes, Jake finally let out a shaky breath and tentatively raised his hand towards Charlie, hovering it over her left shoulder. She gave one tiny step towards him, placing her own hand on his shoulder and softly pulling him towards her; it was the action Jake needed to pull her hard to his chest and bury his face on her hair, his arms closing tightly around her shoulders. Charlie moved her free hand to Jake’s hair, threading her fingers through it, and pressed her ear against his chest, listening to his heart beat as fast as her own.

She lost count of how long they stood there but, eventually, her bag started to weigh a lot more than it already did and she gently pushed Jake back enough to look at his eyes. “This is all good and great but we should probably get inside. It’s freezing, my bag’s heavy and the food is just getting cold.”

Jake chuckled, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck and gave a step back. “Of course, I’m sorry. I guess my surprise overpowered me. Come on in,” he waved his arm towards the room, waiting for Charlie to enter before closing the door and locking it once again.

Placing her bag on the floor, Charlie looked around the room; the curtains were drawn shut, the bed was a mess of pillows and blankets, there were two duffles by the foot of the bed and an array of laptops and wires on the table. Nothing unlike what she had expected from Jake. She turned to him with a smile and offered him the take-out bags. “It won’t be exactly like you wanted but we do get to eat Chinese food.”

“I think the least of our problems are not being at the restaurant.” Jake took the bags from Charlie before placing them on an empty space at the table. He kept his back to her, seeming to be clearing some more space on the table. Charlie frowned, watching as Jake avoided her eyes when he closed the laptops and put them together on the bed.

“Jake? Are you okay?”

Jake’s shoulders tensed before turning back to her, his eyes shielded by a strand of her. “What are you doing here, Charlie? How did you find me?”

Charlie sighed, raising a hand to her shoulder to press on a tense muscle. “It wasn’t easy, I’m gonna give you that. But I knew what to look for and how to do it.”

“How? I mean, I didn’t know you could hack someone if you wanted to.”

“Well,” Charlie smiled, walking to one of the chairs. “I do have a few aces up my sleeve too. And after everything that happened, Richy, Thomas and Jessy finding the kidnapper and being so close they could’ve gotten caught, that last call from the kidnapper, I just…” Charlie sighed, burying her head in her hands. “I just needed not to be alone. And seeming as I promised you I wouldn’t go to Duskwood, I’m here. I’m sorry.”

She heard the other chair scrape the floor before she felt Jake’s hands on hers. He held them on her knees, his eyes staring at her. There were a few streaks of blue in them. “You don’t have to be sorry. I—I know it’s hard to be alone, believe me. And you’ll always be welcome by my side but Charlie… You’re putting yourself in risk by coming here.”

Charlie laughed humourleslly, pulling her hands from Jake’s and standing up. “Putting myself at risk? More than I already am? Have you seen everything that has happened since I joined the group? Richy being marked and then stabbed, Jessy getting attacked, Phil going to prison. Even you, Jake! I mean, they only found you because you were helping me, otherwise, Lilly wouldn’t even know about you and you wouldn’t have been included in the video. Did you listen to that last call the kidnapper made to me? Did you hear him saying he’s going to kill all of them and then me? How much more at risk can I be in after that?”

Jake didn’t say anything but Charlie could feel his eyes on her as she started to pace around the room. She avoided looking at him, breathing deeply to keep her emotions in check; the last thing she needed was to break down now. They still had a lot of work to do and she hadn’t heard anything from the others for hours and it was all starting to get too much. What if Jessy and Thomas were caught in the end? Did the Man Without a Face know where they live? Would he go after them like he said he would? What if the only thing she would find out would be the police calling to tell her all of them were dead? What she would do them? It would all be her fault, she would have let them all get killed and—

“Hey! Charlie! Look at me.” Jake’s hands were on her face, forcing Charlie to look into his eyes. “Breathe with me, okay? Come on. I don’t want you to pass out.”

Charlie took a deep breath, following Jake’s movements, looking into his eyes and trying to count all the different colours in them.When she finally calmed down, Jake helped her sit back on the chair, squeezing her shoulder caringly. Charlie watched as he opened the take-out bags, getting a little of each container on a plate before placing it on her hands. He then did the same with another plate and sat in front of her again, their knees touching as he stared into her eyes.

“I always find it easy to do things if I’m not hungry or even if I’m eating just because. I know it can also help with anxiety if you’re the type of person that eats when anxious, which, and I’m making an educated guess here, you are.”

She chuckled softly, looking down at the plate. “You do know how to make educated guesses. I’m guessing you like to eat while you hack into things?”

Jake shrugged, taking a bite of his food before replying, “I do. Clears my head and makes me less anxious.” Charlie nodded, trying some of the fried rice while ignoring Jake’s gaze. “Charlie, you know you can trust me, right? I know I’ve some mistakes along the way but it was never my intention to put you or any of them in danger. Whatever it is you’re feeling, I want you to know I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.”

“I know, Jake.” Charlie gave him a small smile and shrugged. “It’s just… I have never felt so powerless before, you know? I’m not the kind of person that likes to be controlled, that’s why I know how to fight, why I try to learn a little of everything to have at least some kind of knowledge if I meet someone that wants to talk or do something I’m not familiar with. But now?” Sighing, she looked back down to her food, pushing it around with her fork. “When Jessy was attacked, I couldn’t do anything but watch. The same thing with all the threatening calls and the in-site search and then with Richy—” Charlie’s voice broke and she swallowed back a sob. She felt Jake put a hand on one of her knees, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I had to hear him struggle without being able to do anything. Then I had to watch him choke on his own blood as he tried to tell me something I have no idea what it is. After he dropped the phone, I stared at it for so long, just looking at the sky, waiting, wishing for him to take the phone back, to say it was a joke.” Charlie’s eyes filled with tears and she put the plate on the table. “God, I wish this was all just a bad joke. A really, really bad joke.”

Arms closed around her shoulders and Charlie buried her face on Jake’s stomach, finally feeling the dam break. Jake only rubbed at her back, not saying anything.

“How many of them am I going to have to watch get attacked, Jake? Or killed? Jessy and Thomas barely escaped without any scratches from that house. Dan almost got killed in that accident. Even Cleo’s mom was threatened because of me. How much guilt do you think I can still take it? How much suffering can I put people through because I’m the one who’s a threat to the kidnapper?”

Jake let out a heavy sigh, hugging her tighter before letting go and kneeling in front of her. He took her face in his hands and raised her head so he could look straight into her eyes. “Charlie, I can’t answer that. Not so long ago, you asked me if I thought we had gone too far and I answered how far was too far when it came to someone’s life. You told me it was as soon as someone else was in danger and I see now that you were right. I’ve been so preoccupied with Hannah because she’s my sister and she and Lilly are my only family that I didn’t stop to think that everyone in the group mean something to you; they’re your friends, too.” Charlie nodded, feeling Jake clean a tear form her cheek. “And I should’ve seen that. I know I’m not the best at… understanding other people but I should’ve realized that everything that has happened had to have taken a toll on you just as it did when I saw Hannah getting kidnapped. Even worse because you had to experience things no one ever should have. And I’m so sorry, Charlie, I truly am.”

Charlie smiled sadly, placing a hand on Jake’s cheek. “You remember when I said I thought your eyes would look familiar to me?” He nodded, his expression changing to confusion. “This is what I meant. Even with everything that has happened, I can see everything you’ve shown me through the texts in your eyes. I can see your empathy, I can see how much you care about Hannah and finding her, and I can see your guilt too. Because you also feel it, don’t you? You feel like it’s your fault Hannah was kidnapped; because you weren’t fast enough to call to her.”

“You know,” Jake smiled, turning his head so he could kiss her palm. “You never cease to amaze me. You sometimes understand stuff in a way I can only dream of. Sometimes you know things I’d rather not have anyone know to not let them get too close but I can’t hide anything from you.”

“Well, you actually can hide things from me, for a while. I’ll just end up finding out anyway.”

“That is true. Just like you found out where I was. I’m still amazed by it, to be honest.”

“Okay, it actually wasn’t that hard either.” Jake raised an eyebrow at her and Charlie laughed, gently pushing him away so she could stand up. “I shouldn’t explain just to leave you curious about it and see what it’s like when you keep things from me. But I’m not that mean.”

Jake smiled, following her towards the kitchen. “That you really aren’t. Sarcastic, yes. Stubborn? Don’t even need to answer that. But mean? No, not really. So, how did you do it?”

“Well,” Charlie toyed with the glass in her hands. “Nym-0s is already connected to my phone, that’s why he was able to warm me of the attacks, right?” Jake hummed. “Which means it’s easier for me to actually get into your phone. And considering you weren’t expecting me to hack it, it means there are fewer protections against me. I only needed your location, which is fast to find, and here I am.”

“Who would’ve thought? Tricked by my own program.”

Charlie chuckled, placing the glass back on the sink and stepping towards Jake. “I’m happy you did or I wouldn’t have found you. And I really needed to find you.”

Jake’s expression softened and he opened his arms. Charlie didn’t hesitate before stepping into his embrace. “I think I needed you to find me too. You have no idea how many times I thought about asking where you were or for you to come to me, just so we could meet. Going through all of this alone is incredibly hard.”

She scoffed, shaking her head against his chest. “You can say that again. It’s also, like… I could’ve gone to Duskwood. I know I promised you I wouldn’t, but you wouldn’t be very surprised if I did.” Jake chuckled and hummed. “But I don’t know… I know everyone there is suffering too and would help and comfort me as much as they could, but none of them are you.”

“I know how you feel. I could’ve gone too. I mean, my two half-sisters are there and Lilly is probably suffering a lot more than I am, but it wouldn’t be the same as if I was with you. I felt a lot better talking to you by text than I would’ve if I had gone there. But now that you’re here,” Jake raised her head and Charlie could feel the ghost of his lips on hers. “I feel like I can take on the whole world and win.”

“You do know I don’t make you invincible, right?”

“Certainly feels like it.”

Charlie chuckled, shaking her head. “I feel invincible by your side too. Anyone comes our way, I’ll kick their asses.”

“I know you will.”

They stared at each other, their lips so close it was unnerving, and Charlie wasn’t sure what to do; she wanted nothing more than to just close the damn distance already, but she wasn’t sure if she could. How would Jake react if she did? Did he want it as much as her or would he panic and run away? She sure wouldn’t be able to take it if he did.

In the end, she didn’t have to do anything: Jake bent down and pressed their lips together, so softly Charlie sighed and melted against him, putting one arm around his waist and the other in his hair. Jake’s arms sneaked around her waist, pulling her even closer to him, and Charlie was sure they’d soon become, though she would never complain.

When they let go of each other, Charlie stared up at him with a smile, giddiness bubbling in her chest. Jake mirrored her smile, which only made her heart beat faster. Things weren’t okay yet and they still had a lot to do, but, like she said, as long as they were together, they were invincible and they would find a way to fix everything.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios #jake #duskwood jake #hacker boy #mc #duskwood mc #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #ep 8 #spoilers ep 8 #duskwood spoilers

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fallen-in-dreams · 3 years ago

Text

More Than A Fairytale

Also on AO3. Pairing: Itachi/Sakura. Summary: The first boy that was ever nice to her was the last boy she’d be interested in. And it just so happened to be *him*. He was her soulmate. She was sure of it. ItaSaku. Non-Mass. Prompt: Soulmates. Rated: T. Words: 4,245. Status: Complete. Author note: This is non-mass but with the nine-tails attack, though I won't be touching on it. At all. It turned out so fluffy and tooth aching and was a b*tch to write but it's here. Albeit late, though not too late. *hopefully* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just for fluff, pining, light angst, etc.

This is a LATE (but still before the cut off time) submission for itasakuweek2021. Sorry for the delay @fm-white. Hope you’re doing well. Thanks for hosting this event. :)

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” – Judy Garland

Sakura wanted to scream and throw things. This was the last time she was ever going to be nice to boys! Ugh! How her mother thought any boy was good enough for her, she didn’t understand. They were rude and mean and all the other gross things that Ino giggled about when they were in the back of the classroom. She joined the Academy to get closer to a boy and boy did she regret it. She thought she’d found the one. He was just as cute as her book said he’d be. And just as interesting. Her mother had given her The Book when she started showing interest in boys and it became her go-to for fairy tales.

Magic and romance were so pretty and gave her tingly feelings.

But Sasuke-kun was definitely not her soulmate. Someone who was meant for her was supposed to be nice to her. They were supposed to be helpful and interested in the things she had to say, not brush her off and call her annoying. According to The Book he wasn’t it. And she didn’t care that he was the cutest boy in her class. Sasuke-kun was mean!

“Aargh!”

Stomping out of the classroom, with her bag on her back and her book hugged to her chest, Sakura ignored Iruka-sensei when he called out to her. She just didn’t want to be in the same building as Sasuke-kun anymore! No. Wait. Drop the kun. She growled, elbowing her way past other students. He didn’t deserve that honorific anymore. She deserved better than him. Her soulmate wasn’t going to get her angry enough to want to throttle him.

Sasuke was too skilled with kunai and taijustu so she couldn’t beat him up. But one day, she was going to give him a punch that could break mountains! And then he might feel half as bad as he made her feel today. Sakura continued to fume as she left the Academy building and headed out to the training area before realising Iruka had sent an older student to check for her. She quickly redirected and left the academy grounds completely.

Sakura was a dedicated student who never left the grounds during school hours. She felt both scared and excited at the same time. Sasuke was the reason she’d gone there in the first place. But now she felt like it was just a lie. Her parents never pushed her to become a kunoichi. She just agreed to it.

What now?

Sakura sighed. She had no idea. But at least she still had her book. With nice pictures and big bold kanji. It said her soulmate would be nice to her, helpful, and always put her first. Someone out there was going to be nice to her, she still believed it. She just had to wait for them to notice her. None of the boys in the Academy cared about her and while she enjoyed the theory and found it easy, the workload in the training ground didn’t excite her. Being a ninja sounded scary. Thinking about Sasuke and how cool he was would get her head back in the game, but that was before.

She wandered aimlessly, unconsciously taking a long way back home. And she was reading The Book and not looking where she was going when Sakura banged into someone taller than her. They were like a brick wall, and adult sized. She hit him so hard that there was no way to steady herself. Sakura fell back against another person and then forward again as the crowd jostled her.

“Aah!”

Sakura tripped, throwing her arms forward to brace her fall and dropping her book in the process. She cried out again at the shock and pain when her hands hit the ground, then tumbled to land on her side.

“Damn kid.”

The shadow of the person who’d accidentally knocked her down moved away and was replaced by another, shorter than the last one but taller than her. His hand was soft too; he offered it to her, and she grasped it as tightly as she could with hers. He pulled her up and she cried out. Something was bruised. He wrapped an arm around her back like he was preparing to help her along when she tried to pull away.

“My book!” she gasped, looking around for it.

The boy turned them so she could spot it. Faster than she could move, he stepped forward and bent to pick it up for her. She dusted it off and raised her face to his as he hooked his arm around her again. Sakura blinked heavily, surprised by what greeted her. He was wearing a uniform. She gasped, recognising the gear. Sakura knew about Anbu. She’d read all about them. They were the best of the best and nobody could ever beat them. Except for the Hokage. A boy maybe five years old than her was wearing a mask and Anbu gear. An Anbu had helped her!

“Let’s get you somewhere I can check your wounds.”

He didn’t offer to take her to the hospital. But Sakura didn’t mind. Maybe it was out of his way. The Anbu boy lifted her off the ground and gently moved them to a bench the next building over, away from the crowd and people she might slam into again. Her head was spinning from the sudden movement, but she clutched her book tightly and didn’t complain. Anbu-san lowered her onto the bench and knelt down in front of her, inspecting the scrapes on her hands and knees.

“These don’t look too bad,” he said. “I have some salve on hand which should keep an infection at bay. But you’ll have to wash it thoroughly at home, okay?”

She nodded. “Thank-you, Anbu-san.”

She winced as he applied the salve but kept the smile on her face as best as she could.

“Call me Itachi,” he said.

“Really?” She looked up him as he cocked his head to the side. His mask reminded her of a weasel. “Is that your super-secret code name?”

He chuckled. “No.

“You need one.”

“Not for you,” he said, and she frowned. “Just call me Itachi.”

“You can call me Sakura.”

“A cute name,” he said, and she blushed. “Are you okay now?”

She nodded, lowering her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m silly. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t run away.”

He tilted his head at her but didn’t ask. Sakura sighed. She had wanted to be a ninja because of Sasuke but here she was, hopeless and getting fixed up like she was useless. “I wanna be strong. Like you, Itachi.”

He sat down next to her, and it didn’t occur to her childish mind to wonder why an Anbu was wasting time with her, a silly little girl. She didn’t see the small, sad smile behind his mask as she reminded him of his younger brother. Nor the way he pressed his lips together in frustration at how sad she looked.

“If you want to be strong,” he said. ��Then be strong.” He glanced at her backpack and the Academy sticker she’d stuck to the side of it, thinking perhaps she’d done so proudly.

“You think so, Itachi-san?” She wiped at her eyes as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t think I’m too weak?”

“Everyone starts out weak,” he said. “But if you work hard enough and never give up, then yes, I think you can be very strong.”

Forgetting her earlier angst, Sakura puffed up her chest proudly. “I’m going to be a kunoichi!”

“With that attitude, no doubt.” He sounded amused.

She grinned up at him.

“How old are you, eight?”

“Seven,” she said excitedly.

“I have a brother your age. He’s in the Academy.”

Remembering why she’d run out of school, Sakura groaned. “I hate the boys my age.”

He chuckled. “They can be very annoying.”

She giggled. “Definitely.”

Sakura hugged her book to her chest. She thought of the fairy tale stories and how the book said her soulmate would make her feel better every time she was sad. “Itachi-san, do you know what a soulmate is?”

“Soulmate?”

The girl nodded her head enthusiastically. “I read all about them.” She placed the book on her lap. “Somewhere, everyone has another soul. Someone who completes them and is perfect for them.” She peered at him. “But I don’t know if you’re cute enough.”

She giggled again and he looked around for a moment before turning back to her then lifting his mask for a moment. She gaped but he just pressed a finger to his lips. Itachi was very cute. She blushed and fiddled with her book nervously as he gave her a soft smile. She liked the way it made his eyes crinkle as they closed. He replaced the porcelain mask.

“Don’t tell my captain I did that, okay?”

Sakura nodded seriously. “Promise.”

He stood and stretched for a moment. “I have to go now. Make sure to wash your wounds and see a medic.”

Sakura felt her heart drop. “Uh, Itachi-kun?”

He looked down at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. So, to speak.

“Can… can we be soulmates?”

He didn’t respond at first and Sakura felt rejected. Did he hate her all of a sudden?

“Ask me again after you become a kunoichi,” he said.

“Oh, I will!” Sakura beamed at him as he bowed slightly.

“Goodbye, Sakura.”

She watched him as he took a few steps, waved back at her, and then took flight. Her mouth dropped open as he landed on the nearby roof and then disappeared.

He has to be my soulmate.

.:.

Sakura did not meet her soulmate again until years later. She didn’t even know anything about him other than his given name and the fact that he wasn’t a medic Anbu. It wasn’t until she met Kakashi-sensei and mentioned the incident off-hand that she discovered more about him. His Anbu mask had been distinctive enough (a weasel, which was ironic given this name), so she hadn’t explained that she’d seen his face. Which was a good thing, since it turned out Kakashi had been his Captain at the time. She kept her promise.

Itachi Uchiha.

Sasuke’s big brother.

Were the fates laughing at her or was it just fate? Sakura still believed that there was a soulmate out there for her, but she no longer held to the childish infatuation for it the way she once did. Plenty of shinobi had been nice and helpful toward her since that day. Just none that she’d been romantically interested in. She could still remember how kind and gentle Itachi had been and what was once childish infatuation had now blossomed into a long-standing crush. Even if nothing came of it, she would always look back on it fondly.

But Sakura never approached Itachi in the intervening years. Somehow, she’d painted this picture-perfect memory of that day and didn’t want it to be ruined by meeting the man in question in the flesh. Again. If he pissed her off, as was so easy to do she could admit, it would taint that day. It was like a fairy tale, her recollection of their meeting, and she wanted to preserve it.

Her avoidance of Itachi was made harder when Sasuke began (albeit grudgingly) inviting the team back to the Uchiha compound. Sakura always had somewhere else to be. She knew Kakashi was still friends with the man, and Naruto was raving about how “cool” he was after their first visit. But Sakura chickened out each time. She felt anxious every time their team finished a mission or sparring match and planned to head to the Uchiha home. The copy ninja was intelligent though, and sometimes she saw his knowing look in her peripherals. He wasn’t fooling her though.

He didn’t go either.

When Sakura approached Lady Tsunade about becoming her student it was six months before the Sandaime retired and the busty blonde was named his successor, much to her chagrin. She tried to get out of it but during a training healing session with Sakura, the pinkette mentioned how she was determined to surpass her teammates. A heart to heart about the struggles of the village and how the Uchiha were treated (brought on by Sakura’s still-a-secret-crush-on-Itachi) and a few days later, Tsunade had changed her mind.

So, it was at her inauguration after party (the first one in history since it was a stipulation of Tsunade’s acceptance) that she finally saw him again.

She wished she was old enough to get drunk. Legally.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He’d grown. Sakura did not need a moment to recognise that face again. He was still taller than her. Still so good looking. Years of repressed emotions caught up to her and she inhaled deeply, trying to keep them and her reactions under control. The boy she’d chosen as her soulmate had grown into a handsome young man. Meanwhile, she was still an awkward teenager.

“Itachi…”

“It’s been a long time,” he said, obviously recognising her right away too.

She still had faded marks on her knees where she’d fallen over that day. Sakura hadn’t gone to a medic like he’d suggested. She’d just happily skipped home and told her parents all about it. Getting rid of the marks would have made it like it had never happened.

Her young mind had been so silly.

But looking at Itachi now, a full head taller than her, toned and dressed to the nines… she couldn’t help but feel as enamoured as her child version had been.

“I’m surprised you remember someone so insignificant.”

The corner of his mouth twitched when she started shuffling her feet. Fifteen-year-old Sakura was adorable.

“On the contrary,” he said. “That was a very significant day for me.”

She blushed, lowering her head.

“It’s not every day someone asks me to be their soulmate.”

Sakura looked up at him and returned his smile. She felt her face heat up even further. She couldn’t get over how attractive he was. Years of picturing him didn’t do him any justice.

And now I’m acting like an idiot in front of him.

Sakura cleared her throat. “I was so pushy, Itachi-san. I’m surprised you were so nice to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, embarrassed. “I was a brat.”

“And now look at you. The Gondaime’s apprentice. Everyone has nothing but great things to say about you.”

“Have you been asking around about me?” She asked in jest.

“Yes.”

Her jaw dropped at his candour. She quickly shut her mouth. “Uh... that’s, um.”

“A little too forward. My apologies. I was simply interested in the incredible young woman you’ve become.” He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”

Boys didn’t normally spare her much time and she’d been training so much over the last few years that Sakura hadn’t even thought of rectifying that. Her crush on Itachi was so fierce that no-one else had remotely drawn her attention. Itachi cocked his head to the side and Sakura realised (in her fluster) that he had an earpiece on.

Is he on duty? Then where’s his mask?

Itachi listened for a moment before tapping the earpiece twice and turned back to Sakura. “You should come around next time Sasuke invites you,” he said, waving to her before disappearing into the crowd.

Damn.

She had no excuse now.

.:.

“Sakura!”

Sakura winced at the shrieking tones of her mother. She was procrastinating because her parents and Ino had planned a party for her eighteenth birthday, and the guest list included a certain Uchiha she’d been crushing on. She hadn’t been avoiding him for the past three years. Really. Just making sure she was never alone with him. She didn’t want to embarrass herself with this ridiculous crush. Because Itachi clearly saw her as just a friend, and because Sakura had made the mistake of letting Ino organise this whole thing, he’d been invited. Ino also knew Sakura had a thing for him and was determined to have him there when she “came of age” the hopeful romantic that Ino was. She sighed deeply as her mother called out again.

“Coming!”

Hold your horses.

She straightened herself, taking one last look at the mirror and the pink haired girl in the dark blue cocktail dress before leaving her bedroom. She’d chosen the dress style in honour of her now legal drinking age. Technically, being a ninja, she could’ve started drinking when she became a chunin (or turned eighteen, if that had come first). But it would’ve been frowned upon and seen as unprofessional. Her recently promoted jounin self was a new woman. She could do whatever she wanted.

Ino had insisted on holding the party at the Yamanaka Estate so that more people could be invited. She was intent on doing this with the entirety of the Konoha Twelve.

Sakura walked there with her parents in tow since they didn’t travel like ninja anymore, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to prepare herself for the onslaught. She was surprised and disappointed when she didn’t see Itachi there. Her friends and comrades came up to her, hugging and wishing her a happy birthday. Naruto had set aside all the presents and Ino was in charge of the music. While Hinata had chosen the food – Chouji was still hurt by that, but Ino’s excuse was that Hinata’s palette was more refined. And the girl would cater to everyone. He grudgingly agreed he would have just brought barbeque flavoured everything.

Sakura laughed along with him when he admitted it and accepted his one-arm hug before he left to attack the buffet table. She found a corner of the hall to sit alone, now morose. She’d gotten dressed up and, even though the idea of running into Itachi scared her, had hoped he’d be here. It was a full hour before she felt the familiar chakra as he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Sakura took in his appearance: a suit, nicely pressed, his hair back, his dark eyes intense. She was standing and leaning against a wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for her.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Sakura blushed, clasping her hands together. “Itachi-san.”

She took note of how his eyes travelled over her body and stiffened.

What the...?

“I brought a present,” he said, “but Naruto-kun insisted on putting all the gifts in one room.”

She nodded, unsure of what to make of his perusal. Itachi had a drink in one hand, no ninja gear, no earpiece. He seemed at ease. Now, she’d seen him out of uniform before, at Sasuke’s house, but he’d usually just been asleep after a long mission and was still tired. He was never chatty or had a pink tinge on his cheeks from some alcoholic beverage, like he did now. He seemed out of character. But not. If that made sense.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she heard herself say.

“How does it feel to be considered an adult?” He asked, leaning into to whisper in her ear.

She shivered at the close proximity to him. His breath fanned against her face and his scent was overwhelming. It was… masculine. She had no other word to describe it. He had no cologne or other smell on him. She’d heard that Anbu he could cover their scents, making it impossible for enemies to detect them. But she’d also never seen Kakashi do it.

That was definitely some cherry flavoured mixed drink on his breath.

Was he flirting with her? She hoped so. It wasn’t every day that Itachi Uchiha gave anyone attention, let alone some random girl. Even one who knew his brother. Sakura had only gone to the Uchiha compound a few times after Tsunade’s inauguration. Sasuke’s father had since pulled him out of Team Seven to prepare for Anbu – some time-honoured tradition among their family, apparently. His replacement was a former Anbu, ironically, named Sai, whom Ino had recently been fawning over. So now Sakura had more of an excuse not to go to Sasuke’s home, where watching Itachi treat her like a little sister was too painful. The past three years, Sakura had continued to nurse her crush, learning everything she could about him. It helped that Kakashi-sensei had been his captain once. She gave up on being embarrassed asking him about Itachi.

They continued to talk. Sakura felt like something in the air had shifted. He was being more talkative, friendlier, and standing closer to her. It was almost like he’d come out of his shell. It was both terrifying and electrifying. She quite liked it. But…

“Itachi-san?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you drunk?”

Itachi chuckled. “Just enough.”

“For what?”

“Do you want to dance?”

Sakura gaped at him. A little voice in the back of her head told her to punch him to see if he was someone else in disguise. But if this was indeed Itachi, she’d never live it down. She decided to accept and ask him things that only they both would know. At least for the sake of her sanity. So, she nodded her head, and he threw back the last of his drink before guiding her onto the floor. Sakura watched with fascination and shivered as he slipped his hands onto her body. He must’ve had professional training because they were the only ones doing some version of a waltz while the rest of the guests were dancing either in tune to the rapid beat or to their own.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asked, interrupting her plan to test him on it. She nodded. “You were so sad and cute.” Sakura flushed, gripping his arms tightly. He continued, now whispering in her ear. “I was patrolling for… uh, reasons I can’t tell you. Anbu, you know.” She nodded again. “My team were out of sight, my captain following the target. Hm.”

He hummed lightly, now stroking her hair. Sakura looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Kakashi looks interested.

She felt herself flush again, so she turned away from him and focused on the mildly inebriated man holding tightly to her.

“I remember,” she said. “What was it you said to me? About being a kunoichi.”

Please be Itachi.

He pulled back and looked at her, a little confused. She felt her heart plummet in the few seconds it took him to remember and then her breathing deepened at the intense look on his face.

“If you want to be strong, then be strong. Everyone starts out weak. But if you work hard enough and never give up, you won’t be weak.” He looked so cute, trying to remember it word for word.

She let out an uncontrollable snort. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really. Just buzzed.”

“You don’t normally speak so readily with me.”

He sighed, leaning in to whisper in her ear again. “You asked me to be your soulmate, remember?”

She nodded, realising suddenly that he was confessing something.

“I didn’t think much of it for a long time. You were just some cute little kid that I helped out when she got hurt. That’s all.” He sighed again. “But we met again at Lady Tsunade’s inauguration, and you were all grown up. Almost. Sasuke called you annoying.” He held her tighter when she stiffened at that. “But you aren’t. Naruto-kun raved about you when he visited. A little crush that soon went nowhere. And Kakashi-senpai… he was cautious. I think he knew.”

“Knew what?”

Itachi pulled away and cradled her face in his hands. “Ask me again.” And her confused look he added, “to be your soulmate.”

“Ask me again after you become a kunoichi.”

Sakura licked her lips. “Will… will you be my soulmate?”

She felt like she was asking him to be her valentine. But forever.

He stared into her eyes. The rest of the guests fell away, and it was just the two of them as he appraised her. “Yes,” he said. “If you’ll still have me.”

When had Itachi Uchiha fallen in love with her?

The next thing she knew, he was pressing his lips to hers and Sakura was losing herself in the feel of him. He tasted of cherry, which was funny because that was a flavour not usually attributed to him. They continued to hold each other, just gently entwined and kissing softly. Everything was falling into place, and she could barely keep up.

Eventually, Itachi pulled away, smiling softly down at her.

“You read a book on soulmates. You heard all kinds of rumours of what Team Ro gets up to. Wait—” he said when she tried to interrupt. “You heard tales of Anbu and made stories in your head from what little Kakashi-senpai told you. But,” he leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, “I thought maybe you’d like to believe in something more than a fairy tale, for once.”

Sakura nodded and initiated the next kiss, adding more pressure to it this time. “I’d love to.”

They didn’t need some cosmic or magical sign to know they were meant to be.

#ItaSaku #itasakuweek2021 #itasakuweek #Itachi x Sakura #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years ago

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heirloom

first things first, this is entirely the product of the lovely @ninjawhoa‘s artwork, which you can find here (if you haven’t seen it already please give go give them love it’s sO good!!) so full credit to that piece for the inspiration :’D

second things i have a lot of feeling about lloyd. as always. happy birthday green boy i promise this is not entirely angst T-T

Forgotten

Lloyd is six years old and a child, and he cries more than all the other boys at Darkley’s put together.

He cries the first time he skins his knee, the first time he breaks his wrist, the first time the older boys crush the little frogs that live in the pond, the first time someone tells him he’s been forgotten by his family and every time after.

And that’d be okay, maybe. Like Brad putting fire ants in his bed the first night, it was only that first time. Lloyd learned to expect pranks after that and everything was fine. He learned how to act like a Darkley’s boy and eventually everyone forgot about it. It’s lame that Lloyd cried the first time, but at least it’s just the first time. If he learns to stop after that, then eventually, everyone will forget about it.

But Lloyd, six years old and brimming with his own ocean, doesn’t stop.

“What’s wrong, Garmadon? Gonna cry again?”

Lloyd stares at the frog, its eyes bulging just where its head sticks out from beneath Finn’s shoe. His lip stings, too-sharp teeth biting too tight. Lloyd hates his teeth. They always hurt, like all the times everyone tells him he’s nothing like his father.

“You should’a killed it slower,” another boy chimes in. “He always cries when they start croaking.”

Lloyd’s nails bite into his palms. He likes the frogs’ croaking, usually. It’s why he ended up over by the pond today, ‘cause they’re small and green and he likes how soft they are when they climb all over his hands.

His eyes burn, and one of Lloyd’s sharper teeth breaks through the skin of his lip. He shouldn’t’ve gone to see the frogs today. He shouldn’t’ve ever gone in the first place. If he hadn’t, the other boys wouldn’t’ve come over, and the poor frog wouldn’t be under Finn’s shoe right now. All Lloyd ever does to nice things like frogs is get them killed.

“Huh,” Finn squints at Lloyd, flinty eyes narrowing. “Maybe if I…”

His shoe comes down hard, squashing the frog flat with an ugly squelching sound. There’s a horrible echo of silence, and Lloyd hiccups.

“There we go,” Finn grins. He doesn’t have sharp teeth like Lloyd, but they always look so much crueler than his own ever have when he smiles like that. “Crybaby Garmadon. Can’t believe you’re still at school with us, all you ever do is blubber. What kinda villain are you, anyways?”

Lloyd wants to snap back. There’s not just tears in him, there’s fire too, and he’s the son of the Dark Lord. His blood boils, and for a second he thinks of vengeance—

Then it’s gone, lost in Lloyd’s overflowing ocean, and hot tears streak down his cheeks.

And that’s how it always goes. It’s awful, because Lloyd doesn’t even like crying. It doesn’t make him feel better, and it certainly doesn’t help anything. All it does is get him made fun of — son of the Dark Lord and grandson of the First Spinjitzu Master, and the best Lloyd can be is an embarrassment, crybaby Garmadon with no real friends.

He tries, of course. He tries, he tries so hard, but Lloyd can’t learn to stop. He bruises and breaks inside and out, bleeding but never scarring over. The scrapes on his knees heal up faster than any other boy’s, but inside Lloyd never toughens. He learns to spit fire and venom and pull up a mask, but his skin heals soft and Lloyd’s heart never gets any harder.

Even after he’s left the gates of Darkley’s, anger burning in his gut like a disease, he never stops welling up and running over, spilling out like an unending fountain of misery.

Chosen One

It’s the first time in Lloyd’s life he can remember wearing a color other than black, and he should be happy. He should be excited, ‘cause green’s always been one of his favorite colors and now he gets to wear it all the time, and ninja gi’s are so much more comfy than the stuffy Darkley’s uniforms.

Instead, he just wants to cry.

And he’d though the weapons lighting up were pretty, at first.

The first thing Lloyd does, once the others are distracted enough and there aren’t anymore eyes on him, is bolt. It takes longer than he’d thought, and his eyes nearly burst from pressure, but he probably should’ve expected that. He’s the Green Ninja now, after all.

Lloyd sinks his teeth into his lip, trying desperately not to let the burn in his eyes overflow. He can’t cry now. He’s the Green Ninja, he’s got a destiny, and people with destinies like that don’t cry. The ninja have been talking about the Green Ninja for weeks, Lloyd knows what they expect. They expect a hero, a savior, and now they’re stuck with Lloyd. It’s the least he can do not to cry.

Well, not in front of them, at least.

Lloyd squeezes himself between the pipes in the engine room, crawling into one of the corners as he sniffs thickly. If no one knows he’s crying, then it doesn’t really count, right? If none of the ninja, or Nya, or Uncle Wu, or his dad — if they don’t see him cry, then it doesn’t count. They never have to know. Lloyd will just — he’ll just make sure to be extra quiet, and no one will have to know that the Green Ninja’s a stupid crybaby.

Something hot trickles down his right cheek, and Lloyd bites his lip furiously. He goes to wipe angrily at it, then freezes. The sleeves of the gi he’s wearing are a deep green, soft but sturdy and nicer than anything Lloyd’s ever owned in his whole life. He’s immediately horrified with himself. This is the green gi, everything everybody’s ever wanted, apparently, and Lloyd’s gonna go wiping his tears all over it?

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Lloyd scolds himself, sniffing wetly again. He’s only been the Green Ninja for a day and he’s already ruining it.

The pipes creak loudly as someone’s footsteps echo from above, and Lloyd sucks in a breath, drawing his knees up to his chest. He feels a little sick to his stomach, and his heart feels like it decided to start running laps in his chest.

Green Ninja. He’s supposed to save Ninjago. Lloyd can’t even save one tiny frog. How in the world is he supposed to save everyone from his own dad?

The sick feeling grows worse, and Lloyd’s eyes grow blurry. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, refusing to let them well over. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t—

“Hey, Lloyd, you in here?”

Lloyd’s eyes snap open, and gasps out a sharp breath of surprise. He immediately claps a hand over his mouth, cursing himself, but it’s too late. Kai’s already tracked him down, squinting at him through the mess of pipes.

“Seriously, you pick here to hide?” Kai frowns. “I could’ve sworn you were claustrophobic.”

Lloyd has no idea what that means, but he wasn’t planning on saying anything back anyways. He buries his face in his arms instead, before Kai gets any ideas about what Lloyd’s doing down here.

“Hey, you uh — you wanna come out, so we can talk about it?”

Lloyd pulls his arms around his head tighter, and doesn’t look up.

Kai groans, sounding defeated. “Fine, I’ll do it your way. Just — gimme a sec.”

Despite himself, Lloyd peeks over his arms, watching as Kai gingerly squeezes himself around the pipes.

“How did you — ow — even get yourself in here — ow, son of — in the first place?”

Lloyd stares with wide eyes as Kai wrenches himself through the last of the pipes, scowling as he brushes his hair back into place. He shakes his head, then sits next to Lloyd with a huff, clearly uncomfortable in the cramped space.

“So, um. You want to. You want to, uh, talk about it? The whole ninja thing?”

Kai winces the moment he finishes speaking, but Lloyd’s too busy biting his lip to care much. Why did Kai have to come now? He’s just starting to think Kai might like having him around, and now he’s gonna see Lloyd crying, and he’s gonna — he’s gonna—

Kai’s eyes widen as he meets Lloyd’s own. “Or, uh, you don’t have to talk. We can just sit here, if you want, but—” He blows his breath out, messing with his hair again. “You’re not alone, okay? And it’s okay to be scared, but you’ve got us, so…maybe you can be…a little less scared.”

Oh. Kai looks pained as he trails off into silence. Lloyd swallows. He can feel the familiar slip of tears down his cheek, but he doesn’t sob. He doesn’t buckle over, or hiccup, he just gives a shuddery little breath and blinks away the blurriness. Kai’s eyes go even wider, and Lloyd watches him scramble for his pockets.

“Aw, kid — um, hold on, I think I’ve got a — wait, no, Zane’s the only one who ever has tissues, um—”

Clearly at a war with himself, Kai finally tugs the edge of his gi sleeve over his hand, and gingerly dabs at Lloyd’s cheek. Lloyd sits frozen, eyes still wet. Despite the awkward way Kai cringes, he’s still gentle as he wipes the tears away. He doesn’t laugh at Lloyd, or call him crybaby, or an embarrassment. He doesn’t even mention the Green Ninja.

Lloyd’s eyes still overflow, but he can’t help but think that maybe — maybe Kai is the kind of person he’d trust with the little frogs. He seems like the kind of person who could get it, maybe.

Leader

Lloyd’s been figuring he’d learn how to stop crying when he gets older. He hadn’t been figuring it’d be so soon.

He grows up, just…much quicker than he thought he would. He also gets taller, and his voice gets deeper, and his legs are too long and his arms are too strong and everyone treats him like he’s the most grown-up kid in the whole entire world.

Well, except for the times the guys and Nya treat him like he’s five, but — those are getting less irritating, the further he gets. But Lloyd’s undeniably older, and he could be alright with that. He’s the Green Ninja, and he is alright with that.

He just wishes he’d gotten used to being the Green Ninja a little longer, before the Golden Ninja got added on top of everything else too.

“You’ve inherited the power of your grandfather,” Uncle Wu — Sensei, when in training, and around important people — tells him, his eyes shining. “It’s an incredible gift, Lloyd. The power of the Ultimate Spinjitzu Master — few have even dreamed of possessing such a thing.”

Well Lloyd’s definitely not one of those few. He’d known about the First Spinjitzu Master, but everything he knows about the Ultimate Spinjitzu Master is a lot more…hand-wavy.

“Hand-wavy is hardly the way to talk about it,” his mother scolds, even as she frowns at his ankle. Things had finally calmed down enough for the others to drag him off to a doctor for it, even though Lloyd had argued it was fine. And it should’ve been — the golden power’s gotta be good for something, and if it can’t even fix the ankle you snapped fighting to get it in the first place then what’s the point?

His mother finishes tying the wrapping off, and Lloyd flinches as his ankle throbs, the thick bandages pulling tight. The reminder of how it had first cracked on the Dark Island still makes him nauseous, but it’s not nearly as bad now. He swallows it back easily, just like he did back when he first woke up with it. This is nothing, compared to climbing the tower. And even then, he barely noticed.

At least broken bones are easier when you’re older, he thinks, dully listening to his uncle and mom argue about the golden power again. He slips out of the room as quietly as he can, hurrying back to where he last saw the others. It’s not like he’s ever really involved in the conversation, anyways. Lloyd gets the golden power whether Lloyd likes the golden power or not, end of discussion. It might’ve been nice to be part of the discussion, but he’s…he’s okay with it. Most of the time.

Lloyd swallows, then shakes his head, trying to smile instead. It’s not that he’s ungrateful, and he doesn’t understand how he’s still so selfish — he’s got a family now, more than he’d ever dreamed of having. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, and a few more titles should be easy price to pay.

They just — they feel so heavy, sometimes, all piling on top of each other. Lloyd’s barely began figuring out how he’s supposed to be the Green Ninja, and now he’s got all these other titles to figure out, too?

He kicks dully at the ground. He thought things were supposed to make sense, when you got older.

They don’t, though, and it drives him crazy because they never do. He’s the Golden Ninja then he’s not the Golden Ninja, he’s the Green Ninja but also the elemental master of what’s-it-called, and now Uncle Wu’s calling him leader during training, and Lloyd nearly breaks his neck tripping over his own feet.

It’s not a pretty look, judging by the concerned expressions the others are wearing. Lloyd passes it off as exhaustion, and begs off training for the day instead. There might be a look of concern that passes across Uncle — Sensei Wu’s face, but Lloyd misses it if there is. He’s too busy reeling, spiraling in a dizzying loop as his footsteps take him aimlessly away from the training grounds.

It’s okay, he tells himself. He’s come this far. He’s got so many titles already, what’s one more? And really, compared to Golden Ninja, leader is—

Lloyd’s stomachs turns, and he bites his lip. Well, maybe he’s more frightened than he’d like to admit.

He sucks a breath in, steadying himself. Leader. It can’t be such a scary word forever, right? He can make it work. This is Kai, and Cole, and Jay, and Zane. They’re his family. If he can’t lead them, he may as well hang up the green gi now.

And that’s obviously not an option.

Lloyd takes another steadying breath, and blinks. His eyes sting, but it’s not with any kind of tears. It’s an odd, tinging kind of sting, like the kind that pulses through his fingertips, that sings through his veins. He’d say it’s strength, but it feels more complex than that. Either way, he takes strength from it. Lloyd blinks again, looking back up to the monastery, and his eyes are dry.

He’s older now. He doesn’t cry anymore. His heart might refuse to harden, and he doesn’t doubt it’ll ever stop breaking, but Lloyd’s ocean, overflowing and bleeding over, has finally run out.

Or that’s what he likes to think, at least.

Hero

At this point, Lloyd doesn’t think he’ll be surprised by anything. There’s a benefit in growing his hair and having his voice finally change, other than the obvious — it’s a lot easier to just despair internally now, and hopefully still look like he’s cool and composed.

Not that anything about what Harumi and his father’s done to him is cool, but…Lloyd is better at resigning himself to these things. At least he’s old enough to start the conversations himself, now.

Lloyd still doesn’t know how old he is. He supposes it doesn’t matter as much, now that he knows what’s running through his blood. The days he used to fear it was venom are long-gone and laughable — is the blood of an Oni worse? The blood of a dragon, surely, has to mean something good, but Lloyd is made up of so many pieces he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be now.

He could be bitter, maybe, that he’s gone his whole life not knowing what he is, but bitterness is something that’s never rested long in Lloyd’s heart. Even before the city’s stopped burning and his father’s locked away, it’s hard to hold onto it. He’s never quite been able to shake that. He’s got more scars than he can count now, but his heart still heals soft. Anger isn’t something he can hold onto for very long, and resentment doesn’t work that well when you’re the one that ends up feeling bad.

He doesn’t cry anymore, though. Not after the sky tram. Not when his bones break, not when his father spits in his face, not when Zane freezes the better part of him with hateful eyes. Harumi and her downfall may have scarred him, but part of Lloyd can’t help but be grateful that she’s finally done what Darkley’s never could.

Lloyd’s scarred over, his skin finally toughened.

And yet—

Lloyd hurries away from the streets, sparing the car that’s honked at him a dirty look before tucking his hands against his rain jacket, sheltering his cupped palms from the misting rain. It’s not a bad storm, but it’s enough to turn the sky a silvery gray as he climbs the steps to the monastery, his pace quicker than usual as he cuts a path to the ponds.

He skids a few feet on the wet grass as he goes, biting back a curse as his shoes slip wildly before he catches his balance again, hands still held close to his chest. He breathes a quick sigh of relief, before picking his way over to the nearest of the small ponds that dot the monastery gardens.

“Here you go, little guy,” he murmurs, finally pulling his hands from his jacket, revealing the tiny frog cradled gently in his palms. The poor thing trembles in his hold, still shaking from the near-miss when Lloyd fished him from the worst of Ninjago City’s rush hour traffic. He might’ve missed it himself, had it not been for the slight flash of green along the worn grey pavement.

He lowers himself carefully near the pond, dipping his hands in the shallows of the water. The frog doesn’t move at first, it’s eyes wide and buggy as it shelters in Lloyd’s palms.

“It’s alright,” Lloyd assures it quietly. “It’s safe, here. Promise.”

The frog considers the pond before it, big eyes blinking. Then, in two short hops, it splashes into the water, swimming a few feet before nestling at the edge of a water lily. It lets out a single, happy croak.

Lloyd watches it for a moment longer, his hands still half in the water, raindrops splattering over his jacket sleeves. Finally satisfied that the frog is content, he stands, shaking the water from his hands before remembering he’s soaked from the rain anyways. Sighing, he spares the frog one last glance, his lips curving into a smile as he turns away, wiping rainwater from where it drips down into his eyes.

Lloyd is older than he’d thought he’d get to be and still a child, and he doesn’t cry at all.

Then again, he’s gotten better at finding the bright sides, these days.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #bc i cannot write one fic where he doesn't sneak his way in #also slight animal cruelty tw the darkley's kids aren't nice :((#but only that tiny bit the rest is lloyd being lloyd #nwuh ily #my fic

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

Text

The Guy

Author’s Note: Hello my lovelies! I have to say, I love writing requests and taking part in Challenges. It helps me sharpen my skills! But, with the insane way the world is right now, I offered to participate in one... then lost the details. So, with my sincere appreciation for @lancsnerd ,who kindly sent me a reminder about my missing “assignment”, I present the following! Summary/ Prompt: A quote of “He’s the guy” and my boy, Loki Pairing: Female Reader x Loki Warnings: Swearing, Implied Smut, Fluff, Soft Loki

“Are you gonna tell me what I want to know? Or… do we have to do this the hard way?” Gravel filled and low, the Winter Soldier had you pinned against the rough brick wall, his metal arm holding your wrists together.

“Ooph! Bucky! Get off!” “Make me, princess!”

Kicking your legs free, you swung around Bucky, locking him in a bear hug from behind. Squeezing him with your thighs, your forearms wrapped around his strong neck, “Tap out, Buck!” Wheezing, staggering back, Bucky tried spinning you around but even his metal arm was unable to grab you, “Never!” Applying more pressure to his windpipe, you grunted, “Give me the win!” “No way”, you felt his hard hand grip your thigh, breaking your hold. Suddenly you were untethered, above your feet was the ceiling of the gym, and then there was no breath in your lungs. Bucky had managed to flip you over and slam you down onto the waiting mat with reverberating force. Gasping loudly, you curved up to meet Bucky’s waiting hand, “You alright, doll?”

Shaking your head, sitting up, “That was a dirty trick, Barnes. I had you and you know it.” “Yea… but you still haven’t answered my question, so I couldn’t let you win.” Pulling you to your feet easily, Bucky threw his arms around you, his warm hug an easy way to make sure there would be no lasting damage from your sparring session. “Why do you want to know so bad?” Lowering yourself to the workout bench, forearms resting on your knees, you kept a close watch on your sparring partner. Tossing you a towel, Bucky grabbed both of your water bottles, sitting down on the mat in front of you. Wiping the sweat away from your forehead, slugging down the cool water, you kicked at the super soldier sitting criss cross applesauce. Leaning back, resting his weight on his arms stretched behind him, “Because... I worry about you. I want to make sure you’re safe… and I want to believe this guy is good enough for you.” Considering his words, you snapped your bottle shut, nodding, “I get it, Bucky. I really do. I’m just… not ready to talk about it.” Sensing your hesitation, Bucky patted your knee, “Just know that I’m here when you are ready. And if he fucks up, I’ll kill him.” Laughing, you stood up with a groan, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind!” At dinner that night, Steve knocked into your shoulder, “Hey kiddo.”

“Hey Stevie! How are you?” “It’s spaghetti night, what more does a guy need?” It was an easy exchange, making you chuckle as he loaded a plate high with pasta and sauce before settling himself into the chair next to you. Unfolding a napkin to lay over his trousers, “Bucky told me you’ve met someone?” Flicking your eyes to the Winter Soldier, who all of the sudden was very interested in something Tony was saying, you munched on your garlic bread. Swallowing thickly and patting your mouth clean, you turned to Steve, “Oh, he did huh?” “Yes… but he says you won’t give up this guy’s name?” Concern was present on your friend’s face. While you appreciated Steve's sentiment, it wasn't necessary, not entirely. You knew what you were doing and you didn't want to be talked out of it, even by your well intentioned friends.

"I don't know why everyone cares so much. He's a guy… I'm a girl… it's traditional and boring."

Swirling a fork through his saucy plate, lifting those dutiful blue eyes to yours, "So why the secrecy?"

Chewing, thoughtful, you considered Steve's question. It was valid. You were quick to acknowledge that, answering, "Um… because we're still in that love bubble. Ya know?"

Chiming in, Bucky curious now, "Love bubble? I don't know what that is… what does that mean? Love bubble?"

"It's that time in a new relationship when… um… it's like…" words failing, you desperately tried to give structure to your argument.

Interrupted by Loki, sulking at the end of the long table, "She doesn't want to share her paramore. Greedily, she wants to keep the pair in a love bubble. Separate and safe from any interference. Unpopped, if you will."

"Is that true? You don't want us to bug you?" Bucky's eyes widened at the thought.

Shrugging, you dug around for another meatball, "Kinda… Look, it's not that I don't love you, Buck. Or that I don't trust you, Steve. It's just… all of you can be a lot to deal with. And-" looking at the faces of each of your Avenger friends, "-my… guy… I really, really like him. I don't want to scare him away."

Admitting it out loud, that was taking a lot of your courage but you were being completely honest. This guy, he was just about perfect and you didn't want to blow that by bringing him around your overprotective people so soon. Natasha, the group's mama bear, smiled. "Seems reasonable to me. Give her some time, fellas… if he's half as great as she says, we'll like him well enough."

Steve, smiling a little in your direction, "I don't know who he is… but it seems like he makes you happy!"

Bucky, over protective, kept hounding you, "When will I get to meet him?"

"Soon, Buck. I promise."

"I wonder who it is… this man you care about so much that you're protecting him from us, your dearest friends!" It was Loki, musing from afar that made the observation, his sharp eyes on you.

"I told you-" It was Tony’s turn to interrupt, loudly calling, “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” “Start a pool. Five dollar buy in, guesses on who this guy is… whoever has the winning answer gets the kitty!” “Tony! Not cool! And, not necessary! You guys don’t really need to do this!” But your protests went unheard as chatter erupted and a round of bills were flung on the table. Steve, murmuring to Bucky across the table, “What was that guy at the coffee shop? Cameron? Carson?” Snapping his fingers, Bucky answered, “Carlton!”

“He’s my guess, Tony.” “Shit, Steve. That’s not fair… but, ok. Ok, my guess is Matt. That guy from the pizza place who kept bringing extra chicken fingers for you! You’d never admit to a date with him!” Bucky, smug and pleased, sat back content with his detective work.

“Natasha? Thoughts?” Tony was typing away, his interface with FRIDAY recording all the back and forth, compiling the list of possible boyfriend candidates. Tapping her lip, Nat watched you, “Hmm… Is it Warren? The kid from China Star who rode the Kawasaki and always wanted to take you for a ride?”

Clint leaned over you, grabbing a breadstick as he threw down a ten, “I want to put Charles, from the IT department on the list… and Juan, the recycling rep. Both of those guys follow you around like puppies and I could see you taking pity on at least one of them!” “Nope. No way! She went out with Charles once already. He was the guy who ate her french fries at dinner. Big No-No!” “Rhodes, how do you remember that shit? Fine, not Charles then. What about Frankie? The dude from the diner?” Clint asked the assembled team, looking for someone to back him up.

Mortified, hiding behind your hands, you grimaced. The list, it kept growing, and you could feel icy eyes of judgement lighting you up from across the room. You knew you’d have to answer questions later.

Jane, having joined Thor at the table, was getting caught up on your situation. Conspiring with her Norse God of a boyfriend, she chuckled, slapping a bill on the table with the announcement, “Our money is on Loki.”

Silence overtook the room. Everybody stared at the small, brunette scientist, evaluating if her suggestion was real or a joke. A guffaw broke out of you and quickly gathered steam, propelling you directly into a hiccup filled giggle fit. In a flash everyone joined in, the idea of you and Loki being together was at once so hilarious and unbelievable. It was also diverting enough that the talk of your love life died completely. Grateful and satisfied, you finished dinner without any other questions, even offering to do the dishes. While you were scraping remnants into the compost bucket, you felt the room’s temperature drop, noticing that Loki had slid into the room, "Love bubble is it?"

Dropping the plates into the sink, plunging your hands into the soapy water, his strong ones glide over your shoulders, "Yes. I'm really enjoying our little bubble of love."

“Me too.” Pressing a small kiss to the curve of your neck, Loki pulled your body close, hugging you tightly from behind. As Loki was nearly a foot taller than you, it was nothing to tip your head up, his welcome mouth finding yours for a soft kiss. Curving your back, your bottom rubbed against his pelvis, his desire already rising. “Although, they had a lot of suggestions, my innocent little kitten. Should I be worried?” Shaking your head, “No. None of those… meatballs compare with you, Loki.” “Good. That makes me glad… and I’m pleased to know how coveted you are, my pet.” Roving hands took the liberty of sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingertips just grazing over your bra covered breasts.

Sighing into Loki’s loving touch, “Not that you were much help!"

"What can I say? I like seeing you squirm" his lethal voice purred, warm against your ear.

Pirouetting in his arms, your damp hand brushing back a strand of dark curls, "Jane almost gave us away.” A small smile, almost sad, pulled down Loki’s lips, “Is the idea of you loving me so hilarious?”

“Not to me.”

His head dipped, lowering those pink lips to your own, almost colliding… when laughter, drawing near, broke your moment of connection. Effectively ending your private chat, Thor stomped confidently into the room unaware of the way Loki jumped back as if scalded, or the way your hands trembled at the possibility of discovery. “Brother! I need to speak with you!” Flicking his desire filled eyes to yours, Loki smirked, “Of course… to what do I owe the honor?” “I have asked Jane to be my bride!” “Brother! It’s about time Jane made an honest man out of you!” Loki, more than a little surprised but genuinely pleased for his sibling, hugged Thor close. “YAY! That’s so exciting! Have you guys picked a date yet?” Wiping your hands dry, leaning against the sink, you were happy to hear all of Thor's big news. Shaking his blonde head excitedly, “We shall be wed in three months time… and I was hoping that Loki would play for our special day?”

Loki, blushing a deep rosy pink, “Thor… It’s been years.”

“So? What of that, God of Mischief? You always find a way”, wagging a finger at his dark hued brother, Thor’s teasing grin was sweet. Piling on excuses, trying to gently defer his brother’s marital request, Loki added, “I don’t think I have a suitable instrument.”

That was enough for your mouth to hang open, “Wait… you want Loki to perform? Like play music? At your wedding?” “Of course! He’s the best chamber musician in Asgard. Possibly the entire Nine Realms.” Pride filled Thor’s words at Loki’s accomplishments, something you found impossibly charming, even if you couldn’t quite believe what he said was true.

“Thor, really… I don't think-" Clapping a broad hand onto his younger brother's shoulder, Thor’s tone changed, “Music from home, Loki. It would mean so much, especially since… Mother and Father-”

Loki held up a hand, stopping Thor from going further into emotional sincerity, unable to bear the rawness in his brother’s words. Closing his eyes, agreeing, “Fine. Ok, I’ll… I’ll do it!’ Loki could sense your watchful eyes on him, curious and questioning, as he gave into his older brother.

With his easy smile spreading, Thor’s joy pushed the cloud of sadness away, “Our special day will be filled with music! And flowers! Jane has a whole… Pinterest board? I don’t know what that is but she’s filled it with ideas-” spinning around to grab you off your feet, Thor continued, “And you’ll be invited too! All of the team must come, not just my wayward brother!” Getting swept up in Thor’s passionate excitement, you laughed, offering up more congratulations and promises of attending. As your toes touched the floor, Thor pulled Loki away, “Jane says you will take Darcy as a date for the ceremony.” Tilting his head, Loki shrugged shyly, speaking loud enough for you to hear, “Uh… actually, I already have a date.” Gripping Loki in a rib smashing hug, Thor squeezed his little brother tightly, “That is marvelous news! Jane will be so pleased! So, who’s the lucky girl?” Smiling, you watched them go, happy to see the pair so connected. You didn’t need to hear Loki’s answer. You knew who he’d be taking to Thor’s wedding.

That night, as you were toweling dry your cropped hair, a pop of green light signaled the arrival of your secret boyfriend. He was positively electric, grabbing you by the terry robe covered hips, and kissing you swiftly. Loki's hands rubbed over the soft fabric on your back until they cradled your smiling face, "Hmm… you smell so clean that it makes me think dirty thoughts."

Giggling, you rose up on your toes, curling your hands into his tangle of dark hair. You bent his waiting mouth to your own, savoring the sensation of shared breath, as your tongue flicked over Loki's lips, “Dirtier than that?” Nodding, his heated look hungry, “Oh yes.” "How dirty are we talking?", you teased, resting your cheek against Loki's chest. His rich laugh, rumbling through his core, joined your own. Pressing his forehead to yours, Loki sighed sweetly, "I missed you…"

"I just saw you at dinner!"

"But it's been too long. I… I need more."

Turning to hang up your towel, over your shoulder, "More what, my prince?"

"More of you." Having gained on you while your back was turned, Loki was behind you now, wrapping his long arms around your waist.

Squealing, delighted, "LOKI! Someone will hear!"

Dropping you quickly on the mattress, Loki shimmied up beside you, toying with the open collar on your robe, "So?"

"So… they'll find you here."

Thoughtfully, Loki’s proud look captured your own, "Maybe I don't care. Not anymore… Maybe I don't want to keep you and me… us, a secret."

Swallowing hard, your gaze trapped by Loki's earnest expression, "Really? You're ready to pop the love bubble?"

His fingertips brushed over the thin skin between your breasts, "Yes? I… I think so. Are you?"

Biting on your bottom lip, scrutinizing his handsome face, "Loki, I…"

Freezing, his hand stalled, and Loki sat back on his heels. Looking out your window, shoulders slumping in resignation, "You don't want to tell anyone. You are ashamed to be with me."

Swiftly sitting up, cupping his face with your hands, crooning, "No, no, no, no, no, no!"

Shrugging away from your touch, "You don't care for me, not like you claim to, if you won't declare your feelings for all to hear."

"Loki! That's not it at all."

Letting you tug him closer, Loki's tear filled eyes still refused to meet your own, "Loki… I… I love you. And… I just don't want to share you. Not yet, anyway. That is-" putting your arms around his neck until you were nose to nose with the red-rimmed eyes of an emotional Odinson, "-my only reason for keeping our romance quiet."

Whispering, Loki was too shocked to shake you off, "You… love me?" His voice wavered, as if the idea of being loved by you had never been a real possibility, as if something impossible was occurring right here and now.

On your knees, sighing, you started pressing tiny kisses along those sharp as knives cheekbones, "Yes. I am crazy in love with you, Loki Odinson."

Loki had held you tightly before; in the night when terrific dreams haunted his sleep, in the night when he claimed your body for his own. But this embrace, after telling the dark Prince the truth in your heart, had no equal.

Still taller than you, even though you were both kneeling, Loki's right arm wove around your waist forcing your hips flush with his own. His left supported your back, his hand cradling the nape of your neck, helping him kiss you soundly. It was conquering.

You were his. Body and soul. What's more? He was yours.

Coming up for air, panting from the work of loving you, "My dove, my dearest one… I love you too."

Shucking your robe was easy and Loki savored the lavender soap scented skin he exposed. If a spot of you wasn’t kissed, it was licked. If not licked, nipped. If not nipped, it was caressed. And Loki was very thorough. When you mewled, weak from forced pleasure, “Loki… please. Make love to me.” he was eager to comply. “Look at me, darling girl.” Puffing out your pleasure filled breath, skin dewy with perspiration, you met Loki’s eyes with your own. Resting his hand over your heart, he lifted your own, letting you feel the pattern of his pulse. “It beats for you and for you alone.” In the afterglow, laying in Loki’s arms, you stifled another giggle. Groggy from exertion, Loki opened one eye, “What’s so funny?” “You never told me you play a musical instrument.” “You never asked.”

“Are you any good?”

“You’ll find out when you accompany me to Thor’s wedding.” --- With his heavy cello, Loki took a seat on the edge of the dance floor, taking just a moment to get settled. A beautifully strange combination of concentration and relaxation mingled over the features you loved so dearly. Fiddling with strings, taking a moment to tune the instrument, you admired his long, talented fingers as they took their place on the frets. The din of conversation was silenced when the first low note of Loki’s song echoed through the ballroom. Everyone paused, entranced at the melody weaving its way through the throng of well wishers. Many were surprised, but not you, not entirely. You knew how long Loki had been preparing for this moment. It wasn’t all about making Thor’s day special, although, that was surely part of it. No, he planned to seduce every single person with sound. Giving all of the attendees a taste of what being loved by Loki was like, he hoped The Avengers would see that he was worthy of you in all ways. Mesmerized, the bow danced over the strings, each note perfectly played. It wasn’t hard to picture those shapely digits dancing over your skin in the dark of night. Sending a shiver up your back, you sipped at your champagne, unwilling to take your eyes off of Loki. “I didn’t know he was so talented.” Bucky, stiff in his tuxedo, sidled up to you with Steve in tow. “Me either. Look at those fingers fly!” “Guys… hush.” Shooting a silencing glare their way, you let the music transport you, swaying just a bit at the soothing sound. Too soon, in your opinion, the last lingering note of Loki’s song filled the hall. Rising swiftly, Loki bowed at the applause, then turned to the happy couple. Thor hugged his brother close, while Loki kissed Jane’s hand with a gentlemanly air. Conversations started again, quiet at first, then gaining strength as Loki strode across the room. Snagging a glass of champagne from a passing tray, his eyes trained on you, Loki accepted accolades as he moved ever closer. Another server took his empty glass as Loki finally made his way to you.

Scooping you up, Loki spun you slowly in a circle, your gown snapping behind you in an emerald wave of chiffon and lace. “Loki! Come on, put me down!” “As my lady commands”, when your mouth passed close enough to his own, Loki kissed you as if you had never kissed before. You pushed your hands through his dark locks, a hand on each side of his face, “You were amazing, babe. Just amazing!”

“You really think so?” “Absolutely!” His arm settled on your waist, keeping you tight to his side, as you were handed another glass of bubbly.

Bucky, leaning against Steve, wore a look of wide eyed shock, “Um. Loki… what the fuck are you doing?"

"Agent Barnes, do I really need to explain?"

Mouth dropping open, Bucky gaped, "He’s the guy? Really? You’re telling me Loki is the guy?” “She’s not telling us, Buck… she’s showing us.”

“But Stevie…? Loki? You? You’re the guy who makes her happy? The one who she’s been covering for?” Pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, just a touch guilty, “I am. And, I’m madly in love with her.” “I’m happy Bucky. Stevie… really. Loki is… he’s my everything. I love him, too.”

As your secret was outed, the group formed a circle around you and Loki. Questions were shouted, congratulations extolled, Loki was clapped on the back more than once. Natasha gave you a wink and the "ok", which was really all the approval you needed.

“So, who won the pool then?”, Clint couldn’t help asking. “Me… and Thor”, the bride stepped right up to Tony with her hand out ready to take the prize money. “No fair! He’s your brother in law now. He probably told you!” Rhodey chimed in, unsatisfied with the final results. Defending her methods, Jane spun in her wedding dress, “No way! I used my powers of scientific deduction. I knew she was head over heels for Loki the night we announced our engagement.” Wondering, you looked at Jane, “You did? How? I mean, I didn't tell anyone. We didn't tell anyone ” “You didn't have to! You two wouldn’t look at each other. Dead give away.” Counting her cash, Jane smiled at you. “That may be true, but I promise you this, Odinson… break her heart and I’ll kill you.” Bucky shook Loki’s hand good naturedly, if a little too long, stopping only when Steve pulled him away. Gazing down at you, adoration evident in his face, Loki husked, “Not to worry, Agent Barnes. She has my heart you see... and I plan to be her guy as long as she’ll have me.”

Tagging my Minxes: @lancsnerd @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @sammy-jo1977 @queenofmischief @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #Loki Love #MCU fanfiction #mcu writing challenge #loki writing challenge #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #1000 followers #loki smut

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namjoonchronicles · 4 years ago

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finer arts | th

↳ genre fluff, slice of life, domestic, husband-Taehyung ↳ words 4.6k ↳ summary inspired by the Baumgartner Restoration channel on Youtube, Taehyung is written as a fine art restorer. This fic centres on the point where arts and science collide. Also, long haired Taehyung. Unedited. :’) ↳ song miley cyrus ‘when i look at you’ slowed ver.

Very soft. Taehyung’s hair, at this length, had always been soft. It’s been awhile since he told you he wanted them to grow longer, and it’s finally paying off. He looks terribly soft with bangs going just a little over his brows and poking his eyes. Gathering his hair into one apple sprout and tying it up has always been your favourite way to start the day. He was humming Frank Sinatra's in the living room as it played on the bluetooth speaker when you found him. Always so hardworking. You leaned on your side by the wall, folding your arms and watching your husband pouting at the document he was reading as his head hung low. Big round glasses sliding down the slope of his Godly carved nose he learned to hate, growing up. Parker Fountain Pen in his slender fingers, cross crossing, underlining, circling the paper in a professional manner makes you remember why you had fallen for him. Slowly, but surely.

He lifts his eyes, noticing another presence in the room, and briefly smiles before returning to his writing pad again, greeting in a deep voice, “You’re awake?”

“Yes, I am…” you nodded, indulging the view still. When he starts to repeatedly push his hair away from his face, you take off your own hairband and have him sit down on the floor, with his back leaning against the couch. And you gather his hair with your finger raking the locks gently, tying an apple sprout hair. His eyes were glued on the work he brought home.

“I take it that you’re leaving home for the studio today?” you tipped his head back, chin pointed upward, demanding his attention. He chuckles through his nose as you leaned in for a chaste kiss on the lips, where his beauty mark is and then the tip of his nose and the skin between his brows. With the chuckles alone, you knew you were right. Judging from the wrinkles on his forehead when he crosses out the plans he had, you knew that he was handling a semi large painting.

Taehyung is a fine-art conservator-restorer and because of it, his work consumes him. He treats his client’s painting like his own wife; each with their own time, loving and care. Instead of being envious towards the time he puts in them, you weigh more on the term ‘admiration’, towards his work and dedication. He truly is invested in his line of profession. It was only natural for an art lover like him to eventually become an artist himself, but after some unfortunate series of art blocks, he began to turn to conservation midway through college. You were always supportive of his aspirations. Although you don’t share the same passion for arts to actually go to a college as an art major like him, he always says you should have been an artist rather than scientist when he saw you sketch a lion behind your notes, after being frustrated about writing papers on your research.

Ever since then, you and Taehyung shared an art studio at your shared home after marriage.

“Polyurethane,” he let out a deep sigh. One word is enough.

A big part about restoration and conservation is perfection. When the previous conservator uses polyurethane as varnish, the next restorer, in this case is Taehyung, will have endless scrapings to do. Polyurethane becomes embedded in the paint, which makes most restorers emotionally frustrated. This poorly chosen varnish not only becomes a part of the paint, it makes it difficult to remove because it is scraped along with the original paint by the painter and artist. This then, leads to more restoration work because the objective of a restorer, is to… restore. Using polyurethane just adds into the time working on it. The last time he dealt with polyurethane paintings, he went home with colors drained out from his face. He spent a week on them because he needs to be extra careful to get most of the polyurethane out with minimal damage on the painting.

After the scrapings, he will have to remove the paintings from the old plywood it came with and it was glued with rabbit-skin glue which is the most tedious process, one after the other.

“When it came to the studio, I was holding my breath because the state of it... was just,” Taehyung puffed his cheek and deflated it. Where does he even start? Dented surface, skewed plywood frames, rabbit skin glue, and polyurethane varnish. The owner’s cat sat on the painting. And this painting was already fragile at this time. It was a very old painting auctioned for at least a million dollar. Taehyung almost fainted.

Right. That was how he is. When Taehyung works on a painting, any painting for that matter, of any values of any age, he is consumed by it. Giving it his all, but careful not to leave traces of him as to respect the original painter.Taehyung, as an artist, is mind blowingly authentic. He has unique perceptions towards everything he sees and he was the first few artist you knew that began with taking photographs. Actually, he was the only artist you knew all your life that was intimate enough to have this talk. Back in the days, art students don’t really mingle with science nerds due to unforeseen differences seniors claim to have. You personally were told that art students are too superficial to really want to understand the world and that they see you as a fuss in human form. You believed none of that bullshit.

You have always been the kind to look deeper than what is on the surface, always skin deep. Taehyung noticed this from the first time he laid eyes on you. There was something worth uncovering.

Just like today, when your eyes tunnels into the magnifier to see the photographed version of the painting he was supposed to restore, he gets giddy at the fact that his wife, his forever girlfriend takes so much interest in so many things and is well-versed in all kinds of art despite not being a member of the field. It was at moments like these that he relentlessly wonders why you never considered to seriously take art degrees just like your science stuff.

“Looks flaky, and the dent is so deep…” you commented, craning your neck on his desk as he watches fondly from the side, “You’ll have to patch it up and sew it together…”

The smile melts away and he averted his eyes, tapping his index finger on his knee at the same time. By his demeanor alone, you know that he dislikes this. The work just keeps piling on, and more and more of the original paint is lost. Like a wet on wet painting work, that keeps bleeding color, the painting will have more of Taehyung than it would of its owner. Taehyung let out a sigh you understood so well. You leave the painting’s print on the table with the magnifying glass set away on the corner with the rest of his tools. You bring yourself next to him and put your arm around his neck and the other palm rests on one side of his face, sliding down his chiseled jaws and thumb, tracing his lips. His cologne swims around your nostril, and the smell of his hair that you love, engulfs you. He gathers his arms around your waist, rests his head under your chin and stays like that as long as you both need.

He will be away for long and intimacy of such degree would be difficult to execute. Long tiring week ahead will make you drift you both apart, only to hopefully meet each other like the first time again.

You remember the first time you laid your eyes on Kim Taehyung. He was helping the waitress picking the pieces of fallen tissues after a minor accident. He looked like he walked out of someone’s innate dream. Clean-shaven, dark brown comma hair, boring a dark brown suit and pants to match. The selfless act was something intriguing to you. It’s so rare to find someone who would take the time to help others in such a fast-paced era where everything has to be quick and perfect. You remember turning away and smiling to yourself, grateful that there’s such men still in the world. You never planned to find any attachments that night, it was just a casual formal gathering that you had to attend in order to remain in the social circle. You actually wanted to leave after thirty minutes, and probably watch a late night movie at a nearby movie theatre to appease yourself.

A drink in your hand, a small talk about how good the eclairs were, and a little bit about your short-term plans; apart from that, there was nothing much. You were never the kind to approach people first, finding more interest in the food than you do the people attending. But not your best friend, not Jimin. He is the loudest, most animatic figure out there, talking about all kinds of things, doing a lot of gags and just, a walking entertainment channel, with his addictive laughter and outgoing personality. Jimin would make friends with a broomstick if it attended. It was because of him that you were dragged into this little dinner party. He said if you come, he will join your presentation that he called boring and asked relevant questions. After careful consideration, and losing a couple of friends because of your hectic college schedule, you had no choice but adhere to his demands.

“Hi,” a succulent honeyed deep voice greeted you from behind, “Where did you get those jelly desserts?”

You glanced at him and when you recognised that he was that dude who helped the waitress, you shot your eyes back to your plate instantly, then jerked your head back up, “From the dessert corner, next to the pillar… I think they haven’t refilled them,” you said to him through a smile. Wow, he was so much taller than you expected. And, smells so nice.

“Oh thank you,” he tutted his tongue and nodded once, before he walked away grinning, “Over there right?” He walks sideways to talk to you still. He almost trips over the folded carpet and you got instantly worried before replying in a haste, “Yes! Oh careful, please!”

He gave an okay sign and puffed his cheeks.

Finding the back of your calves began to strain from the long period of standings, you had to find yourself a bar stool and ate your food alone, while Jimin was throwing his head back at a joke one of his new friends were telling. Someone took the empty seat next to you and sat with a huff.

“We already met twice and I still don’t know your name,” he peels his eyes off of his plate and turns sideways to you, “I’m Taehyung, Kim Taehyung.” You said your name in a hurry with an awkward giggle at the end, before poking your fork into the grapes and shoving them into your mouth.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked. “No, but he looks like he is having fun,” you didn’t specify who it was and Taehyung hung his head low with a dry, “Oh.” “You?” you replied. “Alone,” Taehyung said, “Didn’t plan to stay very long…I was going to catch a movie.”

Your eyes light up, “What movie? Because I’m not staying too!” Taehyung pouts, “Haven’t decided… I was going to decide there and then.”

“It’s nice to watch movies alone ha…” “Helps me recharge…” “What major are you? We’re from the same uni, correct?” “I am. I am an art major, and now more to restoration and conservator.” “Oooo, interesting… Meticulous work. That’s amazing.”

Taehyung then learns that you’re a science major, pharmaceutical technology. It sounded foreign to him, he had never known anyone with a science major, let alone talk to one. They always seem so…

“Fussy? Introverted? Closed up?” you listed. He shakes his head, jutting his lower lip out trying to think of a better adjective to describe, shooting his eyes to the ceiling then to the right. “Guarded,” Taehyung tipped his head to the side, looking at you as he spoke. “I get why we seemed that way,” you swirled your fork around the plate of spaghetti you took and nodded in agreement, “But we’re probably thinking about our gazillion unfinished reports and stressed out about why the results aren’t tally, and forgetting our breakfast, lunch and dinner, being high on caffeine…” you shrugged your shoulder, explaining.

“Doesn’t seem like a healthy way to live,” Taehyung commented, “But I understand the struggle.”

Discussing about the stereotypes, the polar opposites of a science versus art majors lasted longer than you expected. Art majors and science majors actually share more in common than you’d think. For starters, both are extremely meticulous and precise. Taehyung spoke about the specification of colours and blending of several techniques into one art requires an extensive studies of observations and practice. As a conservator, he must recognise personalized styles of close to thousands of painters to differentiate a genuine piece from a copy--a skill that would take years and decades to perfect.

For science, specifics come in the definition of science. There has to be hypotheses to be proven, and theories that aligned with the results. Making medication has several strict rules; and the process, the testing are endless. From the drug is being formulated, to the way it is processed, and how it reacts when it enters the human body, to how long it takes to be expelled and whatever happened in between must be noted. Uniformity, size particles, bottling, storage, etc. are all taken into custody when it comes to making drugs. You told Taehyung about the exhausting 48 sets of 100mL volumetric flask being used in order to determine the complete dissolution of 100mG of paracetamol.

“I get cross-eyed having to stare at the mark, trying not to make mistakes,” you smiled and Taehyung giggled. “I understand about getting cross-eyed,” he added. He continues about having to re-color a varnished painting with a limited set of light in the studio, and not being able to determine what pigment it was until daylight reveals that he was wrong.

“I think art and science are two things humans can’t live without,” you started, looking down at your semi empty plate, “I mean, life depends on science, but art is what makes it worth living.” “Rebecca Atwood,” Taehyung cited. Then you both looked at each other for what seemed the longest time, as if you both had found home in each other.

Your heart clearly whispered, “Where have you been all my life?” And for a period of time, you actually believed it was one-sided. How could someone like Taehyung want to spend time with you. But you guys eventually went to the movies together.

Jimin called midway through the movie. You excused yourself and took the call outside the hall.

“Yo, where art thou? The party’s over, don’t tell me you went home without me,” Jimin nags.

“I’m at the movies, I’ll get the Uber, don’t worry,” you hissed, “No, Jimin, I’m going to be fine. It’s not that late, I’ll call you when I get home. Yes, I know there’s class tomorrow at 2pm, alright bye,” you hang up and rush back inside.

Taehyung looks at you with wondering eyes and you felt inclined to explain, “Jimin. Asked me where I was, and wanted to go home. I said I’ll take the Uber.”

“Uber? No, I can drive you home,” Taehyung offered. You don’t think you should be in a car with someone you barely know so you politely declined. Taehyung however, waited with you for the Uber, and waved you goodbye. He didn’t ask for your number, much to your disappointment. But maybe it was a one night thing for him. It’s not like you expected anything, so why do you carry yourself heavily to your dorm?

It was rare to find someone you could connect to in such a short time. Tonight was a miracle at work, and it was short lifted. Laying down in your bed with the light from your phone shone over your face, you scrolled down Instagram to see your married highschool friend cradling babies. Another friend just got married. Another is half a world away. A few are taking pictures of cute dates they went on. And then there’s you, who is now staring at each one filled with envy and discontent, wondering if anyone will ever find the time to notice you and hopefully fall for you. Deep inside, all you ever wanted was to be in love. Despite you plunge yourself into heavy work in the most strenuous field out there, you were inexplicably lonely. It gets increasingly difficult as you grow older, and your options for men decreases.

They say, everyone has a soulmate. But for some reason, you think God forgot to make yours. Real connection is possibly impossible to find. The love you seek probably doesn’t exist.

And as you turn your phone face down next to you, it vibrated a message in.

Jimin: Are you home yet? Hello? Jimin: So you found Kim Taehyung? From arts? Jimin: He texted me the Uber car’s plate number to make sure I know where you are…

You replied,

You: yes.. You: you know taehyung??

Jimin: uh yeah. Orientation week together. Campmates. Jimin: how was it? You: he was nice… Jimin: You cold-blooded women. You: XD

The next day was your presentation. After spotting Jimin in the crowd, you immediately felt better. Some familiar faces would be nice. Final year project presentations can be brutal. Some of the questions you expected would be the purpose, the motive, the need for this project to be funded and why it carries such significance. Sometimes what you expect doesn't happen, and because of that you get very disheartened and disappointed. No matter how brave you decide to be, your body protests and rebels against your wishes. The way the bottle tremble in your hands shows how much this is hammering your dignity. It is as if you expected to be humiliated. You glanced down to your heavily arrowed notes and scribbles, closing your eyes as you stood in the back stage, mentally preparing yourself. How to be bulletproof?

Had he not helped the girl to purchase a canned coffee from the vending machine, he would not have been late, Taehyung thought. Now he creeps in the back of the lecture hall, carrying his own opened canned drink. There was an extra unopened canned coffee drink he snuck in. You had already started your presentations. Does he have the mental capacity for this new information? Of course. There were a few terms he wasn’t familiar with, but it was not enough to bore him. Your simpler explanation the night you met actually helped a lot. The oozing charisma you carry and the calm way you carry yourself was something worth looking up to. It was the kind that he actually envied about you. He had a feeling that you weren’t showing all parts of you and because of that, he was intrigued. Even as he sat there as an audience, completely at awe of your presentation, you were magnetic.

Not a single one person in that auditorium was paying their attention elsewhere. Being able to draw such dedication and passion is a talent. And it was all Kim Taehyung wished he could do.

“With all the existing medication with the same purpose, what good would a research in the same area pose? A renewal?” “And what about the gene-specific cancer studies that are already initiated since 2004? Haven’t we spent enough on that?” “What about the ethical issues surrounding the existing CRISPR, the so-called genetic-specific medications?”

The questions from the PhD holders you presented were all valid. You agreed.

“As a scientist, we understand that our research will continue far after our death. Many researches are done without a clear view of where the finish line is. If we want to talk about ethical issues regarding gene modifications, we have done them on all the things we could consume, grow and breed. If we have the power to prevent abnormality before it becomes one, why do we second guess ourselves? Isn’t the purpose of science to better understand, and then to prevent? To create a better living?”

The room fell into a deathly silence, and you were inclined to go back to your statements but when you dragged your eyes to the corner of the room, you saw some juniors nodding in agreement to what you’ve just said, you regained a little ounce of confidence. “But we haven’t truly understood the after effects of gene modifications. And through all prolonged research thus far, it doesn’t suggest a good result. How do you guarantee a perceptible study in the development of the medication you’re proposing?”

. . . Sniffles greeted Taehyung at the door he pushed opened gently. You were standing by the handrails on the faculty’s rooftop, the papers you brought in scattered around the ground. Some are drained into the pool of water puddle from last night’s rain. Digging the heels of your palm into your eyes, you heard the door creaked open and jumped.

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then turned away. Not because of anger or fear, but from shame. You have never shown anyone this timid side of you. You’re always expected to be strong, and you took that mask on literally. Having someone witnessing your vulnerability is as foreign as the sight of a shooting star. How unlucky for Taehyung, you thought.

“I bought you…” he placed the canned drink on the ground, next to where you placed your backpack, “A canned coffee.”

“How did you,” you sniffed, “How did you know that the presentations’ today?” “You told me the night we met?” he answered, in a confused tone.

And you gave him a lopsided smile, “Oh right. I’m not used to people remembering my errands. Jimin never does. No one ever does.”

“I am not actually good at remembering. But for some reason, yours was unforgettable,” he added an awkward chuckle at the end, scratching the back of his head not sure why he finds conversation with you feel homey. Sincerity and honesty comes naturally like breathing the air in.

“I did a crap job at presenting, didn’t I?” it was a statement, pretentiously laid out as a question.

But Taehyung knew better than to cement the depressive thought. Then he scooted near to you, and coil to your side, to give you a puppy eyed bright smile.

That was when you first knew a Kim Taehyung. Everything else that happened after that seemed like a story written just for you. But loving Kim Taehyung didn’t come without challenges. When you love a man as attractive as that, there will be wandering eyes directed towards him. And you have your own fair share of evil eyes directed at you. How can a science nerd catch the attention of an art student? It was totally unheard off. Had Taehyung paid any attention to those thirsty hyenas, you would have given up the fight. However, this is Taehyung you’re talking about. Once he had his eyes set to a person, he developed tunnel vision only to that person.

For years, you struggled with perfection. And the thing about the struggle is that it was common to everyone, but so few would understand. Perfection quickly becomes a disease to over-achievers. Had it not been Taehyung, you would probably engage in an insufferable discontentment towards life and everything it has to offer. Everything changed when he handed you a paint brush and a 200-sized plain white canvas and a studio to yourself.

You felt liberated.

Not knowing where your illustrations will take you was the first taste of freedom you had ever allowed yourself to feel. Because in the arts, there are no wrongs or rights. And it's uniquely yours. And the look on Taehyung’s face when it's done? Priceless. To the point that you think you began drawing because of him and that he was just saying the things you wanted to hear. Then he hangs your drawings in the open hall, and brings home the comments written by the art lovers to prove that you are wrong.

When it comes to relationship turbulences, Taehyung and you personally respect each other’s space, friendship choices and principles. Such maturity is again rare so you’d like to think that you’re lucky in that sense. However, Taehyung’s family proved to be a massive hurdle. While you were raised in a humble home, and accustomed to having sleep as dinners, Taehyung’s family owns a collection of farms that produces vegetables and fruits, and Taehyung’s favourites happen to be strawberries. He surely is raised in an upper middle class well into his elementary years and then catapulted into first class around his high school time. Not to say that he doesn’t know what it’s like to starve, he has a fairshare of that in his rebellious years; but he was not used to the life you lead. The part-time jobs, the tutoring weekends, the errands. He never had to do those.

When he brought you home to his parents for the first time, you felt out of place. His penthouse, his army of maids, sports cars and spacious area. His parents, they were wonderful. They welcomed you with open arms. Even inviting you to a family-only event, introducing you to everyone, and then letting you see their family photo albums. Taehyung has a massive support system, a healthy relationship compared to yours. No matter how much he wants to convince you that his life isn’t perfect, it was a whole lot better than yours. You remember how he snuck you into his bedroom in the middle of the night when his parents were asleep, the snickering, the whispers and the night you shared, cuddling. You had tears in your eyes that night, because you never thought you’d be this fortunate.

Watching him fall asleep in your lap so soundly really made you think about the last time you ever made someone this comfortable. Is this how it feels to love and cherish? Finding a middle ground is not always easy, and most people take time to reach there. For Taehyung and you, sacrificing a lot comes without say. Your internal conflicts and his willingness to understand your perspective, and vice versa--it all takes time. You can owe it all to Taehyung’s ultimate patience. Just like the way he handles his work. Meticulously, and carefully. Like how chemicals are precise, the paints are too.

In every phase of life, we are being prepared for the phase that comes next. In accordance to what we are made of, we continue to evolve, continue to grow. And it is in this stage that we feel most vulnerable, most bare, most uncomfortable. Sometimes you dread the things that you weren’t allowed to have, much like the doctorate you sought after (that took much longer than others), the way it was withheld from you because life said you weren’t ready yet, even when you thought you were. Waiting patiently becomes the hardest part of it all. Although Taehyung might not understand half the things you went through, isn't he still here? Isn’t he still holding your hand? Isn’t he still singing to you?

Fine arts are creative art, especially visual art whose products are to be appreciated primarily or solely for their imaginative, aesthetic, or intellectual content. If that’s the case, then Taehyung must be finer arts.

:. I wrote a bit about the things I do in university, I’m sorry if you find that boring... it’s the only world I know... I am currently going through mid-semester exams, and I’m not doing well, spark up a fever with 3 more papers to go. Anyways. Have a great day!

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depressedacadamia · 3 years ago

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How do you passive aggresively say fuck you in flower? Part II

Summary: It seems that Nico and Will just cant stop running into each other

A/N: FIRST WEEK OF EXAMS OVER, ONLY ONE WEEK TO GO!! Unfortunately, I am not able to write a lot due to tedious revision but I wrote this part 2 a while ago and thought that today would be the perfect time to release it! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and comment! <3 from me!

Read on AO3 Read Part I on tumblr

They were not expecting to see each other the next day at Uni. In fact, Will was so shocked, he had to pause and squint at the raven haired boy to check that he was the same as the customer 2 days ago. What was this dude doing here? This was the medical college!

Oh shit, what if he’s a new med student or a transfer student?

However, while it seemed that Will had noticed Nico, it seemed that Nico had not noticed Will; he couldn’t have been more appalled as he was ignored and he simply watched in despair as the italian jogged past him without a moment's pause. Not even a Hey, you’re the guy I made out with yesterday, right?

Will was used to having all his past hookups follow him like a sheep and sure, he hadn’t really hooked up with Nico but he was for some reason expecting some sort of reaction from him. Was he that forgettable?

He felt someone dig their elbow into his ribs and was about to shout What the fuck before he realised that Calypso was elbowing him.

“Calypso what!” He winced as he rubbed at his side, still in pain from Calypso’s pointy elbows.

“Do you think I should invite Leo to the dorm party?”

Will’s head perked up. “ Leo? Leo valdez?”

“Yes Leo Valdez, who else?” Calypso sighed.

“I thought you saw him making out with some guy at another party and then proceeded to pretend you never liked him in the first place-”

“- Which is true! I never liked Leo in the first place, he was just a friend!” Calypso desperately defended.

“Everytime someone says they’re just a friend and not they’re just my friend, you know that they’ve crushed on them.”

“Shut up.” Calypso whacked her bag over Will’s head, ignoring his shouts of protests.

Will’s hands instinctively went over his head, tucking his chin in to prevent himself from gaining any brain damage from Calypso. “ Hey, Hey! I work for you, little shit!”

“Exactly, I can fire you any second I want to!” Calypso boasted before remembering something. “ Wasn’t there a request that came in on Saturday? Something like fuck you?”

Will could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “ Uh, yeah, maybe. I don’t really remember.”

Calypso recognised that tone. That tone was the same tone used during the walk of shame, that tone meant things that she did not want in her shop. Turning her head only halfway, she gave Will a grimace, praying that it hadn’t happened again.

“William Andrew Solace, Please please tell me that you didn’t have sex with another client in my shop!”

“For once,” Will smirked. “ For once, I can actually say that I didn’t.”

Calypso sighed in relief, all the tension in her body simply oozing out all at once. Her shoulders dropped and the tense expression on her face was replaced by her regular small smile that she constantly wore, causing her to seem quite shy, which technically she was.

“You know, you seriously have some nerve Callie, hitting your employees like that. That could be harassment. What happened to the shy girl who could tell me the latin name for any plant out there?”

“Just because I don’t hook up with every good looking breathing thing, does not mean I’m shy.” She put her hands on her hips and took several confident steps while swaying her hips before hitting a hard chest with a thud and feeling the hard floor on her butt. Frustrated, she huffed and without even looking at the perpetrator, began to shout,

“Are you blind or stupid? Look where you’re going for fuck sake.” She ignored the offered hand and got up herself, brushing her scraped hands on her pants.

It was only when Will nudged her, not very discreetly may I add, that she noticed that it was Leo Valdez who was offering the outstretched hand and another very scary looking dude standing by Leo. However, something about him seemed familiar- from the shape of his body to his hair and in particular his jawline. She remembered seeing it somewhere.

Fuck, that was the guy Leo was making out with at that party. She realised.

Simultaneously, Will was thinking- Fuck, that was Nico di Angelo.

“Sorry Leo, Calypso,” Will turned to her, completely avoiding Nico. “ Do you have anything you’d like to say to Leo?”

Claypso gave a bitter look to Will before remebering that Leo fucking Valdez was standing infront of her and she had essentialy told him to fuck off. She had to fight the blush rising to the tip of her ears and could only manage to muster a small pipsqueak of ‘sorry’ while looking down at the floor and having her face curtained by her chestnut hair.

Unexpectedly, she felt a hand move the hair out of her face and slip and finger underneath her chin and tilt it up slightly.

“The least you could do while apologising is look at him,” Nico snarled, standing off to the side, watching as Leo brushed her hair out of the way. Leo turned his head to raise an eyebrow that meant Not cool dude before looking back at Calypso, his eyes warm and his smile generous.

“Sorry about him, he’s running low on social interaction juice. Are you okay there?”

Calypso thought she could feel herself gaping- the worst part was that her little shit of a friend Will pointed it out.

“Close your mouth Callie, you’ll get flies. It’s impolite to stare as well,” Will drawled, his eyes still glued away from Nico. Leo glanced at Calypso’s injured hands, the small scrapes and the little cuts across her palms. His frown was cute, with his eyebrows scrunching up and his eyes pooled with concern as he took her hands in his.

“Oh, Dios mio. I’m so sorry- will you forgive me if I clean these up for you?” Leo held her hands gently, as to not hurt her.

Will butted in before Calypso could respond. “Uh, no, that’s not necessary. I can help her from here!”

Nico snorted. “ Yeah, the med- student definitely knows how to clean up his cuts.”

Will growled in response, unappreciative of Nico’s sarcasm. Leo’s frown in concern only grew, the small displays of guilt visible across his face. “ Are you sure? It’s the least I could do after causing you to fall.”

“No it's fine-”

“-Will, calm down. Yes, I’ll go, but you also owe me,” Calypso confirmed. You know your worth, you know your worth, She chanted in her head.

“Well well, a person who knows what they want, of course, I am in your debt. After you.” Leo pointed to the pavement ahead as he left Will and Nico alone. Nico looked Will up and down before letting out a little snort and walking off, not before giving him a little shove with his shoulder as he walked past.

Will was officially outraged. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? First of all, he was barging into the medical college when he didn’t even attend it, then he was barging him to the floor without even apologising and then laughing about it!

Will turned around while still on the floor and yelled. “Who the fuck do you think you’re pushing dipshit?”

Will really thought he had the upper hand. He was taller, felt he was relatively stronger and his reflexes were okay. But when he saw Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Piper Mclean, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang and Annabeth Chase all crowd round Nico, he felt he was the most screwed person in the world. Luckily for him, no one except a girl with brown skin and confused expression turned around.

Will recognised her as Piper Mclean- she had been voted most beautiful girl in the entire Uni. It was rumoured for a while that she and Jason were dating but ever since Will spotted Piper blushing near a new girl, he highly doubted it. Piper raised an eyebrow and Will gave a sheepish smile as he tried to get up.

Piper scurried over, giving her friends a quick wave before running over to help Will. He accepted her hand, mainly because he was terrified that she may kill him if he didn’t.

“Did Nico knock you down here?” Piper asked as Will heaved himself up. Her voice was sweet, soft and had some element that convinced Will that he could trust her; however, at the same time, he didn’t want to snitch on Nico. He gave a blatant shrug and hoped for the best.

“Don’t worry, Nico always teases people he likes. Little idiot isn’t good at showing any emotion other than being horny or being an arsehole.”

“Are you sure those are emotions?”

“I take psychology so I sure as hell hope they are,” Piper confessed, laughing a bit. Will finally realised why everybody considered Piper so beautiful- she wasn’t just a pretty person, she was a nice person. She went out of her way to help others.

“I take medicine so I’m going to hope for the best that Nico doesn’t kill me. He avoids like I’m the plague then acts like he’s planning on murdering me in my sleep.”

“Wait.” Piper paused before turning to Will with a manic grin on her face. “Are you the guy from the flower shop who made the fuck you bouquet and slept with Nico?”

“We didn’t sleep together!”

But Piper wasn’t listening, she was calling Hazel over. Will watched as a girl with gorgeous dark skin that glowed in the sunlight and a tattoo over her left hand turned her head ever so slightly. Will realised why they called her Death’s sister.

She was undoubtedly beautiful but her silent aura was terrifying, like it was driving you to death itself. Large brown eyes that invited you into the darkness and hands that looked sculpted for leading one to their doom.

“Hey Hazelnut! This is the guy who stole Nico from Leo! And he made the Fuck you bouquet that Annabeth gave Percy!”

Will could feel his heart pounding as Hazel left the group and walked slowly to Piper and Will, her expression never changing. Suddenly, when she was close enough to throw a punch, she broke out into a childish grin and started squealing.

“So you’re the one who made Percy that bouquet!” Hazel grabbed Will’s hands and started shaking them excitedly. She giggled before giving them back to him.

“What does making Percy this bouquet have to do with any of this? I only knew Nico because we made out like once and then the fucker blanked me.”

“That’s my little brother you're talking about,” Hazel warned. Will instantly felt his eyes widened in horror before apologizing profusely; he remembered what Nico had told him about his sister and how the two of them had grown up. Hazel laughed before telling him that she was only joking and that he should let loose a bit.

“Was Nico with Leo when he ignored you? Leo Valdez? About yee tall, messy brown hair and ink on his overalls?”

“Yes…” Will nodded.

“Ahhh, that explains it. Those two have a complicated history. He was probably ignoring you because he and Leo might have gotten back together. Or maybe he just didn’t want Leo to know that he made out with you. Or…” Piper let out a grin that Will had no desire to learn the true meaning of.

“Maybe he was just using Leo to make you jealous,” Piper explained, very much used to the drama herself between Nico and Leo. If it wasn’t Percy and Annabeth, Nico and Leo were almost always in an argument.

“So…” Will was deadly silent for a second while his rage began to simmer. “ Are you telling me he cheated on that Leo kid with me?”

“ I really hope not,” Hazel grimaced, looking back at her brother.

“The little fucker,” Will muttered under his breath as he pushed past the two ladies and made his way towards the remaining group. He didn’t care that he was going to run into Percy Jackson, whom he’d had an underlying grudge with for as long as he’d been going to school, he was furious.

How dare he cheat with him. What was Will, some slut who ruined relationships? Hell no. Sure, he slept around but he didn’t go around getting into relationships and creating drama. One night stands were his protocol.

“You!” Will pointed at Nico viciously, his finger almost touching Nico’s nose. The rest of the group simply watched with amusement as Piper held back Jason, whispering who exactly Will was.

“You little cheating seething whore! What the fuck dude! You just make out with whoever you buy shit from?”

“I don't remember you having much of a problem with it.” Nico shrugged, only infuriating Will that much more. He was so tempted to just punch him then and there, in front of everybody including 6 of the most intimidating people he’d ever seen.

“I don't remember you mentioning you had a boyfriend before you jumped me,” Will spat. Nico seemed a little shocked at that comment, his lips shaping into a small ‘o’ before he let a sultry smirk spread across his face in a manner that showed he was relatively proud of himself, only pissing Will off so much more.

Why was the damned bastard smirking?

“Huh, what boyfriend?” Nico turned to Annabeth. “ Hey, Annie, do I have a boyfriend?”

Annabeth looked down at her watch for dramatic effect. “As of 4 months, you have been boyfriend free,” She started and only continued when she saw the smug look on Nico’s face. “That said, that does not mean you have been booty call free for said months.”

“What do you mean!” Nico cried.

“Oh shut it Nico, everyone knows that you and Leo have been playing each other’s booty call for ages now. Just end it and go out with the florist dude,” Frank scoffed.

“Or don’t! The florist dude sounds like a real ass!” Percy cut in, desperate to not let Nico go out with his lifelong nemesis, William Andrew Solace.

“Oh look, it’s Perseus,” Will taunted. Percy felt himself going red and the entire group went quiet. Will looked around, wondering why everyone was silent.

“Oh, you guys don’t know?” Will smirked, looking directly at Percy, the knowledge on the tip of his tongue. “ That’s what everybody called Percy in middle school, after we learnt the myth of P-”

The rest of the sentence was muffled as Will felt a hand wrap itself around his mouth. He looked up and saw the sea green eyes that read Shut the fuck up . Will, feeling nostalgia from this certain situation, smirked and stuck his tongue out, licking Percy’s hands, eliciting a yelp of disgust from Percy.

“Dude! Why do you always do that! Every fucking time I’m trying to shut you up, you pull shit like this!”

“You’re telling me that wasn’t the first time you tried to ‘shut him up’?” Nico and Annabeth both asked, hostility floating in their voices. Will gave a jolly smile at Percy who groaned and wiped his hands on Will’s shirt, muttering ‘gross’ under his breath. Will shoved Percy who proceeded to make a face back.

“How do you two know each other?” Frank asked, completely confused before Hazel went up on her tiptoes and began whispering in Frank's ear while he nodded along.

Nico, sick of Will’s attention not being focused on him butted in. “ Did you come all this way to flirt with Percy or what?”

Percy and Will both gagged and shivered, the idea of liking each other being just gross.

“I’m here because you son of a bitch, used me!” Will cried, flinging his arms out.

Nico raised an eyebrow. “I did?”

“Your boyfriend, booty call, whatever you wanna call them- was right there and I was just some pawn for you-”

“-If I wasn’t talking or paying any attention to you whatsoever, how on earth would I make them jealous?”

Will didn’t respond, his mind racking for answers, excuses, insults he could fling at the raven haired boy. He noticed he wasn’t wearing his lip ring that day.

“I think you should focus on the fact that Leo and I just so happened to be at the Medical College despite our majors being nothing related and we just so, by chance, crashed into you and your friend,” Nico hinted. He was a bit tired from how oblivious this blond guy was- hadn’t he made it obvious?

Will took a while to connect a few dots, but the problem was that he only connected the exact dots that Nico did not want him to connect.

“Wait, so Leo does like Callie? Is that why you guys are here?”

Nico wanted to fucking facepalm.

Saturday

The shop bell rang. Calypso was sitting at the counter with her apprentice, Meg. They were both chatting, something to do with the variation of a certain dandelion- Will wasn’t very sure.

He was sporting a daisy chain around his wrist that Meg had forced him to wear and a pink rose had been braided into his hair after much argument with Calypso that the thorns would hurt, in which she retorted that she’d obviously clip the bloody thorns.

When the bell rang, none of the three workers really snapped their heads up. But when the bell rang, and then rang and then rang again, they slowly lifted their heads from their conversation. Will, who had been leaning his elbows on the counter to talk to the two ladies, turned his head to see 8, very unwelcome people, walk into his shop.

Nico was standing there with all 7 of hids friends- Percy, Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, Piper, Jason and Leo. All of whom were very much not welcome in any way whatsoever in this shop.

“What are you doing here?”

The friends all glanced at one another before a few sputters of laughter were spread out. Nico, who was wearing his lip ring again, walked forward and picked up a red rose, twirling the thorny flower in his two fingers, ignoring the small prick it made.

He noticed the blood trickling down his thumb and lifted the injury to his lips.

“Didn’t I tell you last time...” Nico asked, his voice teasing but also malicious, a small corner of his lips stained red. “That you’ll be seeing a lot more of us?”

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isoldmysoultojonahclemence · 4 years ago

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Jonalot Week Day 1: Childhood

Mushrooms

SUMMARY: The weather takes a turn for the worse when Jonah and Lancelot are out hunting for mushrooms.

@jonalotweek

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“We should hurry up,” Lancelot said, looking up at the sky. “It’s going to rain soon.”

Jonah’s head had been bent down as he searched the forest floor carefully, but he glanced up as well when he heard Lancelot speak. A pout formed on his lips as he found that there were indeed dark storm clouds covering the sky.

“I suppose,” Jonah sighed. A look of discouragement filled his face, making his brows lower and his eyes dimmer. Lancelot’s heart twisted as he saw that expression, and he was quick to reassure Jonah.

“We can come back tomorrow to look for them. I’m staying for at least three more days, remember?”

Jonah nodded and stood up, and Lancelot was relieved to see his expression clear and his eyes regaining their usual spark. “Of course, my lord! I’ll definitely find those mushrooms tomorrow and bring them to Luka!”

Lancelot could only smile at Jonah’s determination. Apparently, Luka had read about a special type of mushroom that could make a person taller or smaller in a picture book the other day, and Jonah insisted on going out to find such a mushroom to make Luka happy.

Privately, Lancelot doubted the existence of such mushrooms, but he couldn’t bring himself to discourage Jonah. Instead, he simply sighed, and resigned himself to a mushroom-filled week. He supposed that it wouldn’t actually matter, since he’d be with Jonah this entire time, and spending more time with Jonah was the entire reason why he asked his father to let him stay at the Clemence estate for the week.

As the boys began to make their way back to the house, small droplets of rain began to fall from the sky. Lancelot opened his umbrella, glad that he had the foresight to bring one along. Jonah, however, didn’t, so Lancelot held the umbrella carefully over both of them. Jonah peered up at him from beneath long eyelashes and smiled, slightly shy. Unable to help himself, Lancelot smiled back, feeling his heart melt a little.

The trail was slowly becoming slippery now. Lancelot was just about to warn Jonah to watch his step when he heard Jonah’s yelp and the thud of something falling onto the ground.

Lancelot dropped the umbrella and quickly knelt beside Jonah to prop him up. His gaze swept over Jonah, checking for injuries. Apart from a small scrape on his palm and being covered with mud, he seemed alright.

“Watch your step carefully when walking on slippery road,” Lancelot told him, extending a hand to help him stand.

Jonah took his hand, but when he moved to pull Jonah up, Jonah winced sharply. He would’ve fallen back into the mud if Lancelot hadn’t managed to catch him by the arm before that could happen.

Lancelot frowned, noticing the way Jonah seemed to favor his left foot over his right, “Let me see your ankle.”

Of course, Jonah tried to protest, but Lancelot simply ignored him and rolled up the hem of his trousers. Lancelot’s frown deepened as he saw a large bruise forming there. Jonah had probably sprained his ankle in his fall.

Making up his mind, Lancelot turned his back to Jonah and stooped down slightly. He looked behind him and, trying not to notice how large Jonah’s eyes had gotten, told him, “I’ll carry you back.”

“What!? N-no, my lord, I--” Jonah had devolved into a blushing, stuttering mess by now, barely able to form a sentence. Normally, Lancelot would’ve observed him with interest because he likes it when Jonah is flustered because of him, but this time is different. He didn’t want Jonah to be on his feet for another moment longer.

“Are you doubting the future King’s strength?” Lancelot interrupted him. He hadn’t wanted to play the King card, but he didn’t have many other options for getting Jonah back quickly.

“Of course not!” Jonah exclaimed. “But it’s just--it’s not proper, and besides, I’m covered in mud, I’ll just dirty you...”

“Jonah,” Lancelot said firmly. “I don’t care if I get dirty or not.” Seeing that Jonah was still hesitant, Lancelot used his last resort, the one thing that he knows Jonah will never fight him on, “You don’t want me to be out in the rain for any longer, do you?”

Jonah bit his lips as his eyes darted over Lancelot’s back, and Lancelot knew that he had won. He turned his face away to hide the smirk tugging at his lips as he felt Jonah climb onto his back.

“But what about the rain?” Jonah whispered, his breath tickling Lancelot’s ear. Lancelot shivered despite not being cold, and it took him a while to gather his thoughts again.

“I can use magic to levitate it,” Lancelot suggested. He had been practicing levitation for a while now, and he would love to have an opportunity to finally test it out.

“You can’t!” Jonah exclaimed. “Magic is supposed to shorten your lifespan, you know!”

Before Lancelot could convince Jonah that something so small wouldn’t affect him at all, Jonah had already picked up the fallen umbrella and held it over them both. Lancelot felt him sway slightly, unbalanced from having one arm up, and gripped his thighs tighter.

Lancelot made his way slowly back to the house. He could tell himself that it was because the road was too slippery to go any faster, but he knew deep inside that it wasn’t just that. He likes the feeling of Jonah’s weight on his back. He likes the sound of the rain hitting the umbrella that Jonah held over them both. He liked the way Jonah wrapped his remaining arm around Lancelot’s neck. He never wanted to let go of him.

As he walked, he heard a light giggle. Lancelot turned his head to look at Jonah, and found Jonah staring straight at him, cheeks bright and eyes brighter. Even though he never did end up finding those mushrooms and ended up spraining his ankle in the process, Jonah still looked deliriously happy.

Later, they would been found by the maids. Later, a doctor would have been summoned to look at Jonah’s ankles. Later, Lancelot would strip out of his mud-stained clothes, strangely sad to let them be washed.

But for now, Jonah shielded them both from the rain as Lancelot carried him home, and Lancelot wished this moment would never end.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

This fic is set at around a year after they first met, so Lancelot is 13 and Jonah is 11. I originally wanted to make this just a few months after they met, but then I realized that it would take at least a year before Jonah is less awkward around Lancelot, so.

Also the magical mushrooms are from the original Alice in Wonderland. No joke, the first time that I read Alice in Wonderland, I was obsessed with those mushrooms. Idk why, but they were the things that I focused on the most. I was like 8, and 8-year-olds are really weird.

Link to Ao3 post!

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #jonalot #jonalotweek #lancelot kingsley #jonah clemence #ikerev lancelot #ikerev jonah #brief mention of #luka clemence #ikerev luka #ayyyyy it's here!#i'm so excited for this week!!!#also fair warning:#i only write fluff #i can't bear to make my top 2 boys suffer #T_T

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limelocked · 4 years ago

Text

Sundial blurbs

So most of my part of the Sundial au has been locked into general au chat on our server in the form of joking, theorising and sometimes writing as much as the discord character limit allows me to. I did the two first blurbs in this post today and @pomodoko commanded i actually post it and tag them so here they are, sorted into story chronological order and not the order in which i wrote them

Also this is the link to the document with general information on the AU

--- Dreams POV, the inciting incident

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8- NINE It has been ten seconds since Fundy landed at the bottom of the stairs at the lowest level of the building, there had been a noticeable thud that sounded distinctly unpleasant but Dream hadn't picked up on any cracking noise that'd indicate broken bones. Not that it'd be easy to hear over the commotion that led to later events.

Because it'd been seven seconds since Techno had lost his balance because of the falling fox mentioned and seven seconds since he stood back straight, almost brushing against Wilburs taller frame. It had only been five short seconds, that might have felt like weeks to others, since Wilbur in turn furrowed his brow and geared up for retaliation. Four seconds ago techno had been pushed. Three, Wilbur had gone into the wrong portal. Two, Philza had with Fundy still leaning on his shoulder tried to stop them both. One, they were gone.

It was surreal. The room had been filled with chatter before the fight, louder during the fight and now it was quiet. One second in the future, after it had all happened, the silence broke by no one who had seen it happen but by Tommy, babbling on about something with Fundy that didn't matter to anyone but himself. He quieted down when the person he was intending to talk to was nowhere to be found, confused. "Where'd Fundy go?"

"He and Wilbur already went through" the lack of effort it took for Dream to bend that truth would be concerning if not for his record, and technically they already had. "Oh-" an unsatisfactory answer but not one that would send him towards the throat of Noxite. "You can just talk to them back home. Come on." The portal after the hermits was supposed to be theirs, something quickly confirmed as they enter the community house with a crisis averted, or rather pushed back until a later date, and two people lost to another server.

--- Omniscient/Unknown POV, the dreamsmp aftermath

un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf... sept, huit, neuf... sept, huit... Seven hours later was when the lie couldn't hold anymore. Tommy already didn't trust Dream much but Tubbo had been a help in convincing him that Wilbur and Fundy were just away building or something. But the truth comes eventually. He sent a clear message of; <TommyInnIt> stop lying to me

Hour eight was the worst, accusations being thrown and swords being drawn. Screaming and explanations that never really felt enough. The ninth hour was bad in another way, depressing. Tommy's anger had simmered into bargaining as if Dream, George or Tubbo had the power to do anything of substance. It never got to begging, Tommy's pride forbade that but the things he put on the line for help that he couldn't get made it almost seem like it.

Noxcrew was contacted and they confirmed that the hemits had talked to them about the guests. Solutions were suggested and just as quickly rebuffed. Hour ten was a loss and the eleventh hour was one where Tommy and Tubbo got to speak alone.

"Can't you just use your powers or whatever to make the portals take us to hermitcraft" he was exhausted. "It doesn't work like that, probably, and Noxite has probably already tried it" "Yeah but Tubbo could you do it?" "I mean... maybe?" To that something glinted in Tommys eye, hope that Tubbo didn't want to extinguish as fast as it needed to be. "But I'm not allowed into the MCC world anyways so it wouldn't work" "FUCKING CHRIST TUBBO everyone here's useless!"

--- Technos POV, first night on hermitcraft

It's the first night and bones tower above him.

There were other buildings around, and the area was lit up well but eyes followed him from the darkness, eying the stone tools he'd manage to scrape up while leaving the group now probably settled in a warm house far away. This world scared him, the monsters and the way his sword hit differently, and the fact that the air itself felt new.

A pair of eyes glowed at him from it's place under one of the ribs of a beast too huge to want to think about. Techno readied his sword, but the dog decided that it'd rather go back to sleep. This world scared him and he just knew he'd gotten lost now because his goal had been to retrace his steps, the path that Xisuma and Bdoubleo had shown them to the little village far away by boat, to find the house cleft in two and then head straight out to sea until he could find a better place to stay than the tension thick cabin that their hosts had suggested.

Another dog offered a quiet bark in his direction and with an embarrassed sssh, covering fright, he continued forward. He had found the water, true, and he remembered something vague about a neighbour... but... No. No he decided that he'd choose a direction and if there weren't any light he'd just have to turn around or dock and make a little cave to live out of. It wouldn't be glorious but neither is 5 million potatoes.

A boat is placed into the water at the straight of Joebralta and a pig starts to row.

Clang. He is confused. The boat shakes in the middle of open water, he's been turned around. Clang. A trident, something he's only really seen in Skyblockle, shoots into the air a meter to the right of his boat. He speeds up. Clang. It misses, but he has decided that the sea is no longer safe.

--- Technos and Ethos POV, the first days in hermitcraft

He's starting to feel bad for leaving. Still justified, but also bad. He felt horrible the instant the championship room disappeared from right in front of his eyes with Wilbur still in it, and still worse when Wilbur then Phil and Fundy appeared next to him in this world, all statues as unseen confused messages fill the communicators of the worlds inhabitants.

When they arrived he was surprised that a lot of the hermits knew about them, or at least him, from the returning cast of hermits that played in MCC and their apparent tendency to tell stories as soon as there was space for it. It'd made it less awkward but the looks from the others stopped him from talking much about his side of the tournaments.

This was perhaps night four? He had stepped ashore in a jungle a bit from an area he could almost feel at home in with its skyscrapers reminiscent of some survival games arenas. But it was built by someone and someone should be avoided so he had trudged through plains and deserts walking around it only to find more tall buildings in another jungle.

The jungle was... safe? Safe from people at least, less so mobs. He had a little cave with a bed now that kept the hot and humid air out most of the time and while small and cramped and utterly horrible it felt far safer than returning to the others... even though he could practically hear Phils calm and nonchalant reassurances.

Leaving the small home he searches for the water he remembers spotting nearby. The bright orange tracksuit wasn't something he wanted to wear but there wasn't much of anything else and it still needed to be washed of stone dust and sweat no matter how much he disliked it. He leaves with a compass and map to find his way back, and around other peoples territory. And water is found easily with these. Stone, coal and redstone is scrubbed away in the freshwater lake that's only relatively cold, but it still feels nice, like the wind on his island in skyblock or in the skywars arenas.

Not too far away a man is working in a terrarium of his own design containing no animals but currents in thin snakes coiling around comparators and observers. The change to the nether has been an exciting one but it did come with problems for the technicians and thankfully for this one the Google hasn't broken too far beyond belief and is back in functioning order faster than expected.

Satisfied he looks at the path that he paradoxically want to end and to continue and decides to wait, flying up to sit near his portal instead to think about it and access the expansions he's already made. Something bright orange is spotted in the distance which at first is ignored, it can wait, until the realization of a possible abandoned shulker, so very common in this group, grabs him and almost instantly leaves as it moves around.

Several seconds later the orange turns brighter and the idea of lava pops in and out of his head in a flash.

<Etho> Beef have to lost an orange llama? <VintageBeef> no? <VintageBeef> at least I dont think so...? <Etho> o_o

He's been keeping out of the way for a while, like usual, and only knew some of the news about new people on the server. That they'd gotten there with Rendogs sports gang by accident and that they'd been living mostly over at Bdubs' place to avoid having them be excluded to their own little village. Apparently something had happened, he'd missed the details but it was looking like there was a manhunt for someone or something that he should by all means be more invested in.

Curious he misses the orange go out of view in favour of finding out about this missing thing in case he's found it. A person and a description, hidden deep in other messages. His height, human pig hybrid, last seen wearing...

Does he want to do this? He knows his way around a jungle but it's still annoying and Xisuma lives close by... but he's most likely AFK. Well, you make a good first impression on the new guys if you find their missing friend.

--- Omniscient/Unclear POV, Technos time with Etho

Silence is golden in silver light. The hermits can stay up days on end without sleep, working through nights when it’s needed and even with guests this doesn’t change. Like the sliver of moon in the sky, Ethos hair glows radiant from inside the redstone machine he calls the Googler and Techno does nothing but look on as repeaters are moved and redstone is smeared in new paths into blocks he has never seen before, something he’s had to get used to lately.

His host works in silence until a question breaks the jungles chime and an answer is given with the rhythm. The redstone had changed and he thought he had fixed it, an unhelpful follow up is posed and a pause is moved into a somewhat oversimplified version of the circuit. They both know that Techno is no help here, but the company is nice and something is learned.

Etho in the day when working the fortress tells Techno about the old days and in turn Techno admits to never having left those old days for long. Etho talks about Pause and Beef. Techno fails to talk about his own team.

#sundial au #mcyt #hermitcraft #technoblade #none of this was proofread

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thewidowsghost · 4 years ago

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The Unknown Muggleworn - Chapter 3

3rd Person POV

The next month went by very quickly. (Y/n) and Hermione had spent a lot of time studying their spell books.

(Y/n) took a lot of time trying to learn defensive spells and as well as some simple ones like Reparo, the repairing spell, Alohomora, the unlocking spell, and Lumos, the wand lighting spell, and Wingardium Leviosa, the levitating spell.

The night before the journey to Hogwarts, Hermione and (Y/n) pack up their trunks and carry them down by the front door.

The next morning, Hermione, (Y/n), and Mr. and Mrs. Granger get into the car and make their way to King's Cross Station.

Once they get there, Mr. Granger and (Y/n) pull the heavy trunks onto two trollies, Marvel's cat carrier sitting on top of (Y/n)'s trunk.

"So, if I'm correct, we need to run between Platforms Nine and Ten," (Y/n) says once they reach the two platforms.

"Or we could ask someone," Hermione suggests.

The four look around to see a plump woman walking by with four boys and a young girl, all with flaming red hair, and the four boys are pushing trollies with trunks on it.

"Come on," (Y/n) says, stepping forward towards the family.

"Hello," (Y/n) says, rather shyly, the others though.

The plump woman turns to the group. She studies (Y/n) thoughtfully, catching sight of her scar - (Y/n)'s hair had been pulled into a low ponytail.

"Hello dears, need to get onto the Platform?" the woman asks, continuing to watch (Y/n) thoughtfully.

"Yes ma'am," Hermione answers and the plump woman's gaze wonders to her.

"All you have to do is run into the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten," the women says and (Y/n) shoots a triumphant look at Hermione.

"Ha, I was right!" (Y/n) says, nudging her sister affectionately. Hermione rolls her eyes as the plump women laughs.

We start towards the platform, Mr. and Mrs. Granger starting up a conversation with the plump woman.

(Y/n) jumps slightly as two voices, almost identical, speak up from behind her, "Hello -"

"We're Fred -"

"And George -"

"Weasley," they finish in unison.

(Y/n) and Hermione turn at the same time to study two identical boys, about two years older than the two.

"Hello, I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, and this is my sister, Hermione Granger," (Y/n) says.

"Twins?" Hermione guesses and the two red haired boys nod.

"Yes -" Fred, (Y/n) thinks at least, begins.

"Of course we are," the other twin, (Y/n) believes was George, finishes.

The group gets to the barrier and (Y/n) catches sight of the black haired boy from Diagon Alley.

(Y/n), Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger pass through the barrier.

(Y/n) takes in the Platform quizzically.

A scarlet steam engine is waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sigh overhead says, Hogwarts Express, Eleven o'clock.

"Wow!" Hermione breathes, her brown eyes full of wonder. There were so many people on the Platform that (Y/n) nor Hermione could count them all, as well as cats and owls of so may colors it was hard to believe so many existed.

3rd Person POV – With Harry

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, Harry had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people were just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him — and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go . . ."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two Platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. "Yes," said Harry. "The thing is — the thing is, I don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn't be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

It didn't come . . . he kept on running . . . he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again." "Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on." The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the traindoor. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you — ?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

Harry had also spotted the two girls from Madam Malkin's Robe Shop.

He could see the mother and father of the two girls, but there was something off about the taller one.

She doesn't seem to belong with them, Harry thinks. Not in a bad way, but she looks nothing like the brown haired girl or the mother and father.

Harry is caught off guard as he overhears the conversation-taking place between the red haired family.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" One of the red-haired twins says.

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

Harry heard the little girl's voice. "Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please. . . ."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?" The mother asks, turning to Fred.

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

"Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?" One of the twins asks.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls." Fred says.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat." George adds. "George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione and I rush to haul our things onto the train.

We find a compartment but there was someone already sitting there.

I slide the door open, "Mind if we sit here?"

"I don't mind," the round faced boy says. "I'm Neville," he says.

"(Y/n)," I hold out my hand and the boy shakes it. "This is my sister Hermione."

"It's nice to meet the two of you," Neville says, then he continues, "Would you mind helping me find my toad?"

"We'll help look," I answer after exchanging a nod with Hermione.

Time Skip – Still (Y/N)'s POV

We all meet back up in the compartment we started in.

"Did anyone find Trevor?" Neville asks and we all shake our heads reluctantly, not wanting to give the poor boy any bad news. Neville groans.

"What about we all look together?" I suggest, and the others nod.

"Just give me a moment," I say, digging through my trunk, looking for my robes.

I find them, then dart out of the compartment to the bathroom, changing quickly, returning to the compartment.

"Okay, off to find Trevor," Hermione says, a twinkle of amusement evident in her eyes.

All three of us walk down the passages asking everyone if they had seen a toad anywhere.

We reach a compartment where Harry and one of the red-haired boys that we had walked through the station with.

Hermione slides the compartment door open, and we all step in.

3rd Person POV – Harry's Perspective

Ron raises his wand just when the compartment door slides open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him, and the two girls from Diagon Alley. The two of the girls were already wearing their new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," the shorter girl says. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sits down. Ron looks taken aback, but the tall girl didn't, her green gaze sparkling with amusement.

"Er — all right." Ron clears his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waves his wand, but nothing happens. Scabbers stays gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" says the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? We've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in our family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when we got our letters, but we were ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, we heard — We've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She says all this very fast.

Harry looks at Ron, and is relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either, but the other girl looks at Hermione, nodding in agreement, clearly meaning that the two of them had learned all the course books by heart.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mutters.

"Harry Potter," Harry says.

"Are you really?" asks Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" asks Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know. I've found out everything I could if it was me," says Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I did hear though that Dumbledore himself was in it too, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . Anyway, we'd better go look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

Hermione leaves, taking Neville with her leaving the other girl behind, a glint in her green eyes.

"Sorry about her," the (H/c) haired girls says. "My sister's just excited about going to Hogwarts. I mean, if you couldn't tell. I'm (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger."

"Are you really?" Ron asks (Y/n) curiously. "Do you have a scar too?" he then asks.

(Y/n) pulls her hair back, exposing an hourglass shaped scar on the left side of her neck.

"Why are your glasses broken?" (Y/n) abruptly changes the subject, turning to look at Harry.

"Cousin . . ." Harry explains and (Y/n) walks over to him, pulling out her wand.

"Let me try something," (Y/n) says, pointing her wand in his face, his eyes crossing slightly. "Reparo!" she says, and the glasses mend themselves. Harry takes them off, looking in wonderment between his glasses, Ron, and (Y/n).

"That's better, isn't it?" (Y/n) asks, laughing slightly.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, (Y/n)," Harry says.

"Well, I'd better go find my sister," (Y/n) says, walking out of the compartment, closing the compartment door on the way out.

Time Skip - (Y/n)'s POV

A couple of hours after meeting Harry and Ron in their compartment, we arrived at Hogwarts.

A voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

The train slows down, and finally stops. People push their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and a loud voice calls, "Firs' years? Firs' years over here! All right there , Harry?" It must have been Hagrid, the man who was with Harry in Diagon Alley.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid says.

All of us slipping and stumbling, we follow Hagrid down what seems to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark that I thought there must be thick trees here. Nobody spoke much, the only one making any noise was Neville, we still hadn't been able to find his toad.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid calls over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!" I didn't realize that one came from my mouth as well.

A narrow path opens suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling brightly in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid calls, pointing to a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore.

Hermione and I follow Harry and Ron into a boat.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouts, who has a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

Then the fleet of little boats moves off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. No one spoke as the little fleet of boats carries us through a curtain of ivy that hides a wide opening in the cliff face. We're carried along a dark tunnel, which seems to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reach a kind of underground harbor, where we all clamber out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid asks, who was checking the boats as all of us climb out of them.

"Trevor!" cries Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

We all clamber up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We all walk up a fight of stone steps and crowd around the huge oak front door.

"Neville, still got Trevor?" I ask, my (H/l), (H/c) hair flying back over my shoulders as the door opens.

3rd Person POV

The door swings open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. (Y/n) instantly recognizes the woman and nudges the Hermione, muttering, "Professor McGonagall. "

The brunette nods in acknowledgement.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," says Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Professor McGonagall says.

Professor McGonagall opens the door wider. The entrance hall was so big, Harry thinks, you could fit the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

The new students follow Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry hears the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall shows the first years into the small, empty chamber off of the hall. The students crowd in, standing rather closer together than they normally would have, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall says. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you ae here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." Professor McGonagall says. "Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school," (Y/n) and Hermione's gazes all meet at Professor McGonagall's words. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Professor McGonagall's eyes linger for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

(Y/n) looks over and sees Harry nervously trying to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall tells the nervous first years, "Please wait quietly."

She leaves the chamber, and Harry swallows.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Harry asks Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Ron answers, and Harry's heart gives a horrible jolt.

A test? In front of the while school? But Harry didn't know any magic yet, what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment he arrived. He looks around anxiously and saw that everyone else looks terrified, too, except (Y/n), who seemed to be holding an a face of calm on her face for the benefit of everyone else. No one was talking much except for Hermione Granger, and (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, who were whispering very fast to each other all the spells they had learned and wondering which ones they might need. Harry is trying really hard not to listen to them. He had never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. Harry and (Y/n) kept their eyes on the door. Any second now, Harry thinks, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead Harry to his doom.

Then something happened that made Harry jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him scream.

"What the -?"

Harry gasps, and so did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed thought the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. The ghost seemed to be arguing. What looks like to be a fat little monk says, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to five him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights seems to have noticed the first years.

(Y/n) raises her hand nervously, and the ghost in the ruff turns to her.

"Yes?" He asks.

"We're new students, we're about to be sorted," She says, shaking a little.

A few people nod in agreement.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" says the Friar. "My old House, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice says. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned to the hall, and one by one, the ghosts float away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall tells the first years, "and follow me."

(Y/n) felling nervous, falls in line behind Ron, Hermione behind her. Professor McGonagall leads the first years out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

(Y/n) had never imagined such an amazing thing could exist. Thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, Probably the House tables, (Y/n) thinks, where the older students were sitting, light the Great Hall. On the tops of the tables, there were glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall leads the first years towards the table, so that they come to a halt in a line facing the other students. Hundreds of faces stare back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight, and dotted among the students, the ghost shone a misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looks upwards and sees a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Harry hears Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in –"

"Hogwarts, A History?" (Y/n) asks her sister with a smile.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, Harry thinks, and that the Great hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looks down again as Professor McGonagall silently places a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she puts a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was so patched and frayed, and extremely dirty, Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house, Harry thinks.

Harry think wildly, Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, It seems the soft of thing. (Y/n) then notices that everyone is staring at the hat, and she looks towards it too. For a few moments, there was complete silence, then the hat twitches, a rip near the brim opens wide like a mouth – and the hat begins to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid ! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall bursts into applause as the hat finishes its song. It bows to each of the four tables and then becomes quote still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispers to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiles weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but Harry wishes they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seems to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brace or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the had had mentions a House for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now steps forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall calls the first name.

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbles out of line, puts on the hat, but before the hat falls over her eyes, (Y/n) shoots her a smile, and Hannah smiles thankfully back. The hat falls over Hannah's eyes, and after a moment's pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat.

The table on the right cheers and claps as Hannah goes to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. (Y/n) sees ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouts the hat again, and Susan moves to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" shouts the hat and the table second from the left claps this time; several Ravenclaws stand up to shake hands with Terry as he joins them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" becomes the first Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could wee Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," then becomes a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they look like an unpleasant lot.

Harry definitely looks sick, (Y/n) thinks. Harry remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. Harry had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch – Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, (Y/n) noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy that was standing next to harry in line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

(Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister as she runs to the stool and jams the hat eagerly onto her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouts the hat, and Ron groans.

A horrible thought strikes Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" . . . , "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

"Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his finger under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry.

There were only two people left to be sorted, (Y/N), and a tall boy with black hair.

"Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, and at last, (Y/n)'s name was called.

"(L/n)-Granger, (Y/n)!" Professor McGonagall shouts, and the (H/l), (H/c) steps up to the stool. She turns around, and nervously looks around, Hermione meets her gaze from across the hall, and Hermione smiles at her sister softly.

(Y/N)'s POV

I sit on the stool, and the hat falls over my eyes.

I jump a little as I hear the Sorting Hat starts talking in my head. "Well, your ambitious, and a strong leader, I see, qualities of Slytherins, ah, but there is something else here, patience and loyalty, also qualities of a Hufflepuff. But there's something else here, wisdom, wit, and a lot of creativity, all qualities of Ravenclaw. But also courage, bravery, and daring, so where to put you?" The hat asks. "Brilliantly smart father, daringly brave mother."

"You know my dad?" (Y/n) thinks. Though she knew little about her mother, she knew absolutely nothing about her father.

"Your father was a famous muggle," the Sorting Hat says softly, only loud enough for (Y/n) to hear. "Extremely witty and intelligent beyond his years."

"So he wasn't a wizard," (Y/n) comes to this conclusion.

"No," the Sorting Hat confirms.

"What about my mother?" (Y/n) thinks.

"She was a Gryffindor, a muggle-born like yourself."

Hermione's POV

"She's been on that stool for like ten minutes," Harry murmurs to Hermione, who was sitting Percy, across from Harry.

"She's a hat stall," Percy Weasley says softly. "The first since Peter Pettigrew about twenty years ago."

There's a silence for another five minutes before the hat finally shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!"

(Y/n) takes off the hat off her head, then grins.

(Y/n) jogs over to sit beside her sister.

Hermione smiles widely at (Y/n).

"Can't get rid of me that easily," (Y/n) teases.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and he was beaming at the students, his arms open wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he says. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" Professor Dumbledore finishes, sitting down.

Everyone claps and cheers, (Y/n) and Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or not. Sitting beside Percy Weasley, Harry was thinking the same thing.

"Is he - a bit mad?" Harry asks Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" Percy answers airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes."

"Potatoes, Harry?" Percy asks.

Harry's mouth falls open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he had wanted. Dudley had always take anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piles his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and begins to eat. It was delicious.

"That does look good," says the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Cant you -?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," says the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" Ron says suddenly. "My brothers told me about you – you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but Hermione interrupts, (Y/N) looking over her shoulder.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

"Now, Hermione dear, that's not polite," (Y/N) says, and Hermione grins at her sister before turning her attention back to the ghost.

Sir Nicholas looks extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he had wanted.

"Like this," he says irritably. He seizes his left ear and pulls; his whole head swings off his neck and falls onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had clearly tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking very pleased at the stunned looks on the first year Gryffindors' faces, Nearly Headless Nick flips his head back onto his neck, coughs, and says, "So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost."

(Y/N) and Harry look over at the Slytherin table and see a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank starting eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was sitting right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look very pleased with the seating arrangement.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Thora and Seamus Finnigan ask with great interest.

"I've never asked," says Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food fades from the plates, leaving hem sparkling clean as before, then, a moment later the deserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, Jell-O, rice pudding, and an assortment of fresh fruits.

As (Y/N) helps herself to a couple of strawberries and some chocolate éclairs, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," explains Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of nasty shock for him."

The others laugh, and Ron turns to Neville.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asks.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville begins, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

"What about you?" asks Seamus Finnegan.

(Y/n) looks up, startled, but then speaks. "My mother, that I know of, was Muggleborn. My father was a muggle. I grew up with Hermione here for my whole life. My real parents are dead, well, that I know of."

Harry glances at the (H/c) haired girl as she turns back to Hermione and Percy Weasley, who were talking about lessons.

"I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult –" Hermione rambles.

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing –" Percy says.

"What about Charms?" Hermione asks. "What's that like?"

"Well, in Charms, you learn to cast spells that alter an object without changing it's nature." Percy says.

"Wait," (Y/N) interrupts, "so if we were given, like, a teapot, would we have to make it dance across the desk?"

"Yes, exactly (Y/N), that doesn't change how it looks, if you wanted to turn it into a tortoise, that spell would be taught in Transfiguration." Percy explains.

Harry, who is beginning to feel warm and sleepy, looks up at the High Table again. Hagrid is drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall is talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happens very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looks past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pan shoots across the scars imprinted into (Y/n)'s and Harry's skin.

(Y/n) slaps her hand to the hourglass shaped scar on her neck. Harry does the same, letting out an "Ouch!"

"What is it?" Percy asks, Hermione turning to study her sister.

"N-nothing," Harry mumbles.

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off for Harry was the feeling he had gotten from teh teacher's look - a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asks, and (Y/n) and Percy's gazes turn to the Head Table.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape." Percy says.

(Y/n) and Hermione turn their attentions back onto each other and start up a quiet conversation. (Y/n) notices, out of the corner of her eye, Harry watching Snape for a while, but Snape never looked back at Harry.

At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore gets to his feet, the hall falling silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." He begins.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashes in the direction of the Weasley twins, as he says the last part. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Hermione's and (Y/N)'s eyes meet at Dumbledore's last few words, while Harry laughs, but he was one of the few that did.

"He's not serious?" Harry mutters to Percy.

"Must be," says Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere – the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cries Dumbledore. Harry notices that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twists itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the whole school bellows:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees, Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot, Just do your best, we'll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot."

Everyone finishes the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins are left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducts their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who claps the loudest.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore says, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years follow Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was to sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climb up more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and (Y/N) was just wondering how much farther thy had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and (Y/N)'s eyes narrow in suspicion. Percy takes a step toward them as they start throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispers to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raises his voice, "Peeves – show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answers.

"Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?" Percy asks.

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appears, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he says, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swoops suddenly at them, and they all duck.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barks Percy.

Peeves sticks out his tongue and vanishes, dropping the walking sticks above (Y/n)'s head. (Y/n) slides instinctively out of the way, catching the walking sticks in one hand.

Harry and Ron look slightly impressed as (Y/n) sets the sticks on the ground silently, then walks over to stand beside Hermione.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," says Percy as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, and he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hangs a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" she asks.

"Caput Draconis," answers Percy, and the portrait swings forwards to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scramble through - Neville needing a leg up - and find themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directs the girls rough one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - (Y/n) figured they were in one of the towers - they find their beads at last: four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up and, too tired to talk much, (Y/n) pulls on a pair of emerald green pajamas, the color matching (Y/n)'s eyes.

Marvel jumps out of her basket, eyeing Hermione then (Y/n) then hopping up into Hermione's bed, curling up onto Hermione's stomach.

Word Count: 8327 words

Bye!

Love y'all! Kaitlynn❤️😍

#hermione granger #hermione granger x sister reader #harry potter #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter various x reader

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offtopicoverload · 4 years ago

Text

Get Lucky

so i totally forgot about this request from @renluthor for like. two months, terribly sorry, but i finally finished it lmao. bit different than what we had discussed, but i had a lot of fun with it and think it turned out decent enough, hope you enjoy it also idk how to tag on ao3, i hope this works fine

M Rating (still suck at rating, there's drinking and kissing so)

Zoey x MC (Bea)

~1700 words (still pretty short since i cant seem to get my word count up rn but im also not that fussed)

Read on Ao3

Bea Hughes stands in the middle of Belvoire’s quad on her first day at the school, staring down a snarling beast, some bitch named Poppy that’s really starting to get on her nerves. “You know what, Poppy?” she snarks, “I’m really going to enjoy tearing you down. Something tells me nobody likes you half as much as you like yourself.” She pauses, glancing around before her gaze lands on some frat bro, “Michael, how often does Poppy call you an idiot?”

He frowns, face downcast, “Every day. My therapist says it isn’t good to surround myself with people who bring me down, but my parents are friends with Poppy’s and -”

“Oh my god, nobody asked to be invited to your pity party, Michael!” Poppy shouts, effectively cutting him off with a stamp of her foot.

Bea’s scowl grows, “You know what nobody asked to be invited to? Poppy’s Daily Bitch-Fest. Death by migraine would be more pleasant.”

“Oh, you haven’t even seen Poppy’s Daily Bitch-Fest,” her eyes narrow at Bea dangerously, “But if you’d like a demonstration, by all means, be my guest of -”

“Hey Bea! Look at the time, we gotta go!” Someone takes hold of Bea’s wrist, tugging her along and away from the crowd, from Michael, and from Poppy and her glare. She’s pulled into a sprint across the lawn, running wildly until they’re inside a dorm and standing before some door.

“Wish the circumstances were different, but welcome to the Winfrey dorm complex, aka your new home!” The girl lets Bea’s wrist drop back to her side, gesturing widely with one hand as she fumbles to unlock the door with the other.

She finally succeeds, throwing the door open and ushering Bea inside, the door slamming shut behind them. Bea’s eyes immediately rove over the expensive decor and nice furniture of the huge dorm she’s somehow stumbled upon.

The girl collapses on a couch, kicking her feet up as she looks over to Bea, “So, you got out of that one alive. Barely,” she adds under her breath. “How are you feeling?”

Bea follows suit, slumping down on the opposite side, toying with the hem of her shirt distractedly. “Honestly, you’re gorgeous,” she shrugs, watching the fabric slide between her fingertips. She freezes, slowly glancing to Zoey, “...is what I was thinking, but did I just say it out loud?”

A laugh bursts from Zoey, her head falling back, “You did, and you’re absolutely, positively right. Not to mention easy on the eyes yourself,” she grins, winking at Bea, before sticking her hand out. “I’m Zoey Wade, your roomie,” she shakes Bea’s hand when their palms meet, “This right here is our dorm. Your room’s on the left, mine’s on the right.”

“Okay,” Bea responds abruptly, sinking into the cushions and crossing her arms beneath her chest. “Okay,” she repeats.

Zoey glances over to her, “Are you okay?”

Bea’s eyes flicker to her dark ones, “Yes. Yes, because I got lucky on the roommate front,” she smiles, albeit somewhat forced.

“That you did,” Zoey smiles right back. “In fact, I know the perfect place to get you off campus until the hype dies down.” she jumps to her feet, crossing to the front door before Bea can even react.

She scrambles to her feet, nearly tripping on the corner of the coffee table, “Wait!” Zoey spins as she swings the door open, winking before disappearing down the corner, Bea nearly sprinting to catch up.

---

An hour later, Bea and Zoey are sitting in a dim corner of a Soho speakeasy, soft music and conversation buzzing in the background. Half-drunk Manhattans sit before them, their own voices adding to the soft din of chatter flowing in the space.

“How’d you find this place?” Bea inquires curiously, her eyes scanning the building and its patrons. It’s cozy and warm, the inviting atmosphere a sharp contrast to Belvoire’s intimidating one.

“Connections,” Zoey’s shoulders rise in a nonchalant shrug, unbothered as she scrolls her phone.

“Whose?”

Zoey looks up from her phone, gaze meeting Bea’s as she smirks, “Can’t spill all my secrets on the first day, babe.”

“Why not?” Bea challenges, one eyebrow quirked.

Zoey’s phone is set face down on the table as she looks at Bea mysteriously, smiling secretively, “As sweet as you are, I always need a few cards up my sleeve.”

“How many you got?”

“I’ll never tell,” she winks, in what Bea is quickly learning to be her default.

“I thought the whole point of coming here was to learn more about each other, roomie,” Bea counters pointedly.

Zoey shakes her head, leaning back against the booth, “The point of coming here is avoiding the campus harpy that goes by the name of Poppy.”

“So you don’t want to get to know me? Or let me get to know you?”

“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll tell you something.”

Bea just her bottom lip out in a pout, her eyes wide and innocent as she blinks up at Zoey. She only smiles coyly in return, drinking her cocktail as Bea deflates, sighing and slumping backwards.

“You are so lucky you’re cute,” Zoey hums from the back of her throat.

Bea grins before schooling her expression into something flirtatious, “I’m hoping I’ll get luckier.”

Zoey laughs at that, just as loud and unrestrained as back in their dorm, “Nice try. At least buy me a drink first.”

“I’ll buy you the whole bar, how about that?”

“I’ll take another Manhattan for now,” Zoey laughs, sinking back into the booth as Bea jumps up, weaving through the speakeasy’s crowd to get back to the bar.

She returns a few minutes later, wiggling the drinks in her hands enticingly with a wide grin on her lips. She slides back into her seat, sipping her own bright coloured cocktail as she looks to Zoey.

“So what made you want to come to Belvoire? Long way from home, right?” Zoey plays with her drink, scraping a cherry off a toothpick with her front teeth.

Bea shrugs, “It’s a good school, and I thought it’d be fun to try something new… But now I’m mixed up in petty drama,” a sigh shifts her shoulders, Zoey stilling her absentminded fidgeting.

“Petty drama, maybe, but you’re making a name for yourself,” she nudges Bea with her elbow. “That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

“So you don’t think I’m totally screwed?”

“Hmm,” one carefully manicured nail taps Zoey’s chin. “I give it ten to one odds,” she finally decides, smiling sweetly across the table.

Bea frowns, a dent forming between her brows as the girl across from her’s smile grows in amusement, “Those aren’t good odds.”

“But there’s still a chance. Look, I know I don’t know you very well, but you seem like the type to pull it off.”

“Seems like you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“And what if I was?”

“I guess I’d wonder if there was a reason for it.”

“Can’t a cute girl be reason enough?”

Bea lets her gaze rake over Zoey suggestively, “I suppose so.”

“See? You’re smart, you’ll be fine,” she encourages. “Probably.”

“Ugh,” with a groan, Bea’s head falls forward, forehead crashing against the table.

“Nope, nope, nope,” Zoey chastises above her, “No moping.”

Bea turns, her cheek pressing into the wood, “What else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re going to dance,” Zoey announces, standing with her palms flat on the tabletop. She cocks her head at Bea expectantly, sauntering out to the dancefloor when Bea takes the hint, popping up and chasing behind her.

The dance floor's more crowded than anywhere else, couples and friend groups moving in unison to the beat thundering through the air. Zoey whirls around, dancing to the peppy song currently playing until Bea’s joined her, swinging her hips and throwing her arms about carelessly.

The song’s change, the crowd moves as one, and the pair spin and jump and whirl, Zoey taking Bea’s hands and twirling her until she’s laughing and dizzy. Time ticks past until they’re both breathless and sweaty, leaning against one another for support.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Zoey chuckles, her breath brushing Bea’s cheek, goosebumps breaking across her skin.

A grin breaks Bea’s lips too, relaxed and somewhat tired, “Right back atcha.”

Zoey throws her arm over Bea’s shoulders, fingers knitting behind her neck as she looks down at the shorter girl, her messy hair and gleaming eyes, her smudged lipstick and shining teeth. One hand retracts, the pad of her thumb swiping lightly beneath Bea’s lips, cleaning up the mess on her skin.

Bea’s breath hitches, her eyes widening in the dim lighting of the speakeasy, glued to Zoey’s dark ones as they shift over parted lips. “Hey, Bea?” she whispers, thumb still ghosting over Bea’s skin.

“Yeah?” she whispers back, the exhale skimming Zoey’s skin now.

“Are you still trying to get lucky?”

“God yes,” she groans.

Zoey bends down, letting her lips softly graze Bea’s, just barely making contact. Smudged lips chase hers, Zoey smiling before Bea’s palms are on her cheeks, tugging her downwards, her own thumbs brushing along high cheekbones.

Zoey’s hands find her hips, pulling her closer until they’re bodies fit together, only heat between them under the lights. Zoey nips at Bea’s bottom lip, the shorter girl gasping against her lips, Zoey’s tongue slipping past them.

Time ticks past, the mass of people surrounding them lost in a haze, heat the only thing discernible. The break apart after a short moment, unconsciously swaying to the music together, getting caught up in the rhythm, sucked into the thudding bass.

“We should probably head back to campus,” Zoey murmurs after another song fades out.

Bea’s head lolls to the taller girl’s shoulder, a groan spilling from her throat, “Mm, do we have to?”

A familiar chuckle explodes from Zoey’s chest, “Yeah, maybe you’ll find a four-leaf clover along the way. Get even luckier.”

Bea pulls back, her eyes eager as they meet Zoey’s and the remaining laughter in them. “Okay, let’s go!” she grabs Zoey’s hand on her hip, tugging her through the crowd and out the door, pulling her along this time. Her laughter rings behind Bea as she barrels down the street, New York’s lights illuminating her way.

#i know i said id post this yesterday but then i got to editing and decided. no #zoey wade #zoey x mc #queen b #choices fanfic #playchoices #qb basa #i feel like this is very weird and i can’t tell why???#like just different style ig???

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