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of-a-chaotic-mind · 3 months ago

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I Can't Say Part 2

Summary: An Earthquake turns everyone's world upside down and nearly takes part of Eddie's away from him.

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Hurt, Earthquake, Injured Reader, Blood/Blood-loss

Requested?: No

Word Count: 4,136

A/N: Our grand total of words for this trilogy is 11,325... I'm ngl was kinda stuck on how I'd get from break up to make up but then I was rewatching season 2 the other night and well... Earthquake it is. Anyways, hope you enjoy the read! Love to all! Requests are Open!

[ A/N: him so purtty... ]

Part 1

--- Your POV ---

Groaning, I silence my alarm and drag myself to my bedroom to change clothes. I really wish I had changed out of my work clothes last night because it is so uncomfortable to sleep in jeans. I opt for a more comfortable outfit for today since I'm just taking Talia to therapy. My jeans are replaced by sweats, my LAFD t-shirt by an oversized hoodie, and I yank on my high tops to finish it off.

As I make my way to the kitchen for coffee, with a pit stop in the bathroom to brush my teeth, I throw my hair up into a messy bun and check my phone that had miraculously stayed in my back pocket all night. The smell of coffee fills the air as I swipe through notifications which include a few random info dump texts from Buck that I hadn't checked yesterday, a missed call from an unknown number here and there, and a few texts from Tommy checking in on me.

After closing out all the notifications and apps, I find myself staring at my home screen and fidgeting with my bracelet. Glaring back at me is a photo that Buck took in which Chris is sandwiched between me and Eddie as we both hug him. All of us are smiling brightly and my heart hurts at the reminder of my boys. My thoughts are racing when my alarm rings again. I quickly silence it and tuck my phone away before pouring a cup of coffee. As I head out the door, I grab my keys and wallet off the counter.

A good bit later, I'm arriving at Talia's house. I had finally convinced her to let me pick her up if she wants me to drive her to therapy. I shoot her a text to let her know I'm here, forcing myself to ignore my home screen. It only takes a few minutes before she's rushing out of her house and getting in the passenger seat, "Sorry, I woke up a bit late."

I smile, "All good, you should probably brush your hair though," I respond, motioning to the bird's nest atop her head.

As I pull away from the curb, she flips down the visor and giggles at herself in the mirror, "I slept hard last night."

"I can see that," I state, unable to withhold a laugh. Talia has made so much progress in the past week. This is only her second appointment but I can tell a huge difference; she's actually smiling again. She had taken some time off work because she was scared it would either push her over the edge or she wouldn’t be as focused as she needed to be on the job but yesterday, she said she thinks she’ll be ready to get back out there soon.

She grabs my phone from the cupholder, "What kind of music are we feeling today?"

I shrug, "Whatever boats your float."

She erupts into a fit of laughter, "God, I will never stop thanking Tommy for blessing us with that phrase."

I grin as I remember the time a very exhausted, end of shift Tommy responded to the question, "Where do you guys wanna eat?" with, "Whatever boats your float." I'll never forget the look of pure astonishment on his face when he immediately realized what he said and mumbled to himself, "Boats your float? What the fuck?" Talia and I teased him about it for weeks after but it got stuck in my vocabulary and became a regular response for me, causing Talia to giggle and Tommy to roll his eyes every time I say it.

Talia cranks the volume up as she decides on a hip-hop playlist and starts singing along horribly on purpose. This goes on for a little bit, with me giggling at her the whole time, before she finally turns it down, "Alright, what's up with you?"

I tilt my head at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean not too long ago it was always Eddie this or Christopher that," she pauses, "You haven't mentioned them in like forever and I kind of miss seeing the smile on your face when you'd talk about them." I shrug and train my eyes on the road ahead. She doesn't give up, "Come on, (Y/N). You've let me trauma dump on you for weeks now. If you need to talk, I'll listen."

I take a deep breath, "We broke up."

"What?!" her volume and pitch nearly bursts my eardrums.

I dramatically cover and rub my right ear, "We just decided that it wasn't gonna work out." I hate lying to her but if she knew the real reason she'd blame herself and I don't want to upset her.

"So, it was mutual?" her tone says she doesn't think so. I can't even bring myself to nod. She reaches over and tugs lightly on my bracelet, "I could see keeping the bracelet if it was a mutual break up. That kid means the world to you but-" She picks up my phone and shows me the home screen, "Mutual break ups don't keep photos of their ex as their home screen. People who get dumped do." It's quiet for a couple seconds, "Besides, last time I heard about Eddie, you were asking me if I'd be your Maid of Honor when you guys got married one day. Not if! When."

I internally cringe as the words spill out of my mouth, "Okay, he decided it wasn't gonna work out."

I see the look on her face out of the corner of my eye and she still doesn't buy it, "You mean the man who would fight the entire world for you? The man who would kiss the ground you walk on and bow at your feet? The man who absolutely adores the shit out of you and can never stop staring at you like he can't believe you're real?" I clench my jaw but her phone rings, saving me from having to come up with a response.

A short time later, I am parking on the curb outside her therapist office. She hangs up the phone and grabs my shoulder, "First of all, we're not done talking about it. Second, you should come sit in the waiting room instead of wasting your gas." Praying she won't try to continue the conversation right now, I turn the car off and get out, following her inside.

We ride up to the second floor in the elevator, check her in at the front desk, and take seats in the waiting room before she speaks again, "So, how's Tommy doing? I heard he's got himself a new boyfriend."

I smile and nod, laying my head on the back of my chair, "Yeah, Buck. I work with him at the 118. They're very happy together."

"Oh, that's great! What's Buck like?" she asks. I'm certain she's trying to fill the silence without talking about Eddie.

"If I had to sum him up in one sentence I'd say, there's a reason the team and I call him a golden retriever," I answer and look over at her with a grin.

She laughs, "Oh my god, tell me more."

"Well, he's got a heart of gold and loves his job. He's got tons of energy. He's always got something interesting to talk about because he's constantly researching random shit. One time, he gave me an in-depth explanation of how microwaves work," I pause, "Tommy is absolutely wrapped around his finger. I don't think I've ever seen him smile more than when Buck is info dumping on him."

I sit up, holding my hand up to quiet Talia as she's in the middle of gushing about how adorable that is and how she must meet Buck asap. I stare at the floor beneath us as its small vibrations turn into violent shaking, "Quake!" Everyone in the waiting room ducks for cover. Talia and I slide under a coffee table just as rubble starts falling around us. Quickly covering our heads with our arms, we brace for impact.

When the quake subsides and the dust settles, Talia and I make eye contact as we hear other people panicking. We shove the slab of concrete off the edge of the table and make to get up but instead have to army crawl under another slab of concrete. Keeping my head low, "I sure as hell don't miss this," I grumble, thinking back to my days of army crawling through muddy obstacle courses and sandy war zones.

Behind me, Talia chuckles, "What? Earthquakes or army crawling?"

I pause and look back at her, realizing it has been a while since our last quake, "both," before proceeding cautiously. Our short tunnel opens up into a pocket that is a good bit taller and has more space to maneuver. "Everybody just stay calm. If you're panicking, we can't properly assist you," I announce to those who were blessed by the pocket.

"Please! Please, you have to help her," a young woman cries by the furthest edge from us. She is hunched over another woman whose legs are pinned by a chunk of debris.

"Talia, check everyone else over and get a head count while I try to figure out the safest way to get her out," I instruct.

Behind me, Talia shuffles toward the others, "On it," as I head for the debris.

"Stay with me, Penny," the younger woman begs as Penny groans in pain.

I finally reach them, "Penny, my name is (Y/N). I need you to tell me where it hurts."

"Everywhere," Penny mumbles and I mentally slap myself.

"Okay, yeah. Stupid question, I'm sorry. Can you wiggle your toes?" I respond.

I notice the younger woman's name tag that reads Chelsea as Penny answers, "Yeah I think so."

"Alright, that's a good sign. Chelsea, I need you to see if you can find a piece of wood or something that is big enough for her to lay on," Chelsea nods and begrudgingly leaves to scavenge.

I drop to my stomach and scoot closer to Penny, "We're gonna get you outta here, I'm just a little more limited on resources than usual." I take her hand in mine and drop my forehead to the floor with a thump. My head is pounding; I think I hit it on the underside of the coffee table earlier. I'm having a hard time thinking straight.

I remember Bobby's advice for times like this, "Don't worry about the things that you can't do anything about. Focus on one task at a time." Alright, first task, get Penny free and on a makeshift back board.

I check her pulse, it's weak but steady, "Penny, I need you to focus on your breathing, okay?" She nods, taking deep breaths, as I look up at the debris that is pinning her. It looks like a thick and heavy wall but doesn't appear to be supporting anything. I crawl to where her legs disappear out of sight and stick my hand under as far as I can reach, feeling for any bleeding and thankfully finding none. I crane my neck to look at the others, a few are assisting where they can as Talia checks everyone over. "I need as many hands as I can get over here!" I yell across what remains of the waiting room.

Talia stops what she's doing and points to few men who look to be in pretty good shape considering the circumstances. She directs them to me before squeezing a little girl's hand tightly and joining me herself. As they approach, Chelsea comes hobbling around a corner with a piece of wood.

When everyone is there and ready for instructions, I start dishing them out, "You guys," I point to the men, "spread out around this wall and get ready to lift." I roll over on my back and scoot until my shoulders are even with the edge of the collapsed wall, "Talia, Chelsea, as soon as this wall is up enough, pull her out as gently as you can and get her on the wood." Once everyone is in position, "On the count of three. 1... 2... 3..." I push as hard as I can against the underside of the wall. The men help lift from their positions and soon they've pulled Penny out.

"You get out from under there, we got this," one of the men insists.

I nod and roll back over on my stomach to shove myself up to my feet and away from the wall, "Let it down easy." They do and now I'm left trying to figure out my next task. I scan the pocket looking for any possible exits. A pile of rubble blocks the door to what I hope is still a somewhat functioning stairwell. It will take some time to clear the way enough to get the door open but it's our only shot. I notice the massive receptionist desk is still somehow standing making a decent place for everyone to take cover for the inevitable aftershocks.

"Talia, help everyone get under the reception desk," I look at the men who are patiently waiting for further instruction, "You guys are gonna help me get that door open," I punctuate my sentence with a point at the door. They nod and immediately head that way, as do I. Behind me I hear Talia start instructing the others. Once everyone is under the desk, Talia joins us in the small bit of headway we're making.

--- Third Person POV ---

The 118 is heading toward a downtown building collapse. Despite knowing it's futile, they've all tried contacting various loved ones. Buck sighs in relief as he hears Tommy's voice on the radio, "This is 127 Pilot Kinard. 118 please check in."

Immediately, Buck grabs his radio, "Buckley checking in. Nash, Diaz, Wilson, Han, and Panikkar all accounted for."

It's quiet for a split second before Tommy asks, "(Y/L/N)?" Buck hesitates, looking over at Eddie who has been staring out the window ever since he gave up on trying to reach Chris and (Y/N).

Voice shaky, Buck answers, "No contact. She's off duty."

Tommy's voice sounds strained, "Copy. Y'all stay safe."

Buck responds, trying to sound reassuring, "We will."

As they near the building, Eddie nearly slams his head against the window as he looks back behind them. "Woah, what?" Hen asks across from him, startled by his sudden movement.

Eddie whips his head around to look at his team just as the engine parks next to another one from the 133, "That was (Y/N)'s car!" He flings his headset off and scrambles out of the vehicle as everyone else piles out behind him.

Buck catches up to him and grabs his shoulder when he stops in front of a crushed car, "A-are you sure? She's doesn't exactly have a unique car..." Eddie only points at the shattered windshield. As he spins and takes off toward Bobby, Buck looks to where he pointed to find the rubber duck wearing firefighter gear that he and Tommy had helped Chris buy for (Y/N) on her last birthday. Chris had insisted the duck needed a cowboy hat so they also bought a small Toy Story Woody action figure. Woody himself was sitting at home on one of Buck's bookshelves but his hat now laid beside the little duck in the pancake that was formerly a car.

--- Your POV ---

I wipe the sweat and dust off my face as I hoist another chunk of debris to the new pile we've made. We've made a decent size dent in the blockage but it's still not enough to get through. As the ground begins to tremble again, Talia yells, "Aftershock!"

I turn and attempt to make it to the desk with everyone else but a bout of dizziness takes me down. I feel a blinding pain as something punctures my lower back close to my left hip. I look back to see a piece of rebar sticking out. When everything stops shaking, Talia rushes over to me. I try to get up but the rebar has me staked to the floor. She presses her hands against my blood-soaked hoodie, "(Y/N) you better stay with me!" I try hard to focus on my breathing as she yells at the men to keep working on the blockage and calls Chelsea over to her, "I need you to keep pressure around this, okay?"

Talia drops to her stomach, face to face with me, "How bad is it? Be honest."

I wiggle my toes and reach around to feel exactly where the puncture is, "Shouldn't be too bad. Main concern is the bleeding. Thank god for love handles because I think that's all it hit."

She nods, "Alright, hang in there."

Talia returns back to Chelsea who whispers, "She's losing a lot of blood." I hear fabric tear and feel my hoodie lift up. I'm sure Talia is trying to stem the blood flow as much as possible by sandwiching fabric between my hoodie and skin. I lay my clammy cheek against the cool floor and look out at the wreckage. It's starting to get hard to breathe and my vision is already blurry.

--- Third Person POV ---

Just as Talia finishes packing fabric around the rebar in her friend's abdomen, another aftershock hits. The others rush to the desk and Talia tries to move to cover (Y/N)'s body as much as possible but one of the men pulls her away, "You can't save her if you take a chunk of concrete to the dome."

Talia screams, "(Y/N) don't you dare leave me! Stay awake, okay?!"

As soon as the shaking dies down enough, Talia rushes back to (Y/N), who is now losing even more blood, and adjusts the fabric to accommodate what is now a bigger hole. "(Y/N), you still with me?!" she screams, panic is evident in her tone. She looks over to see that her friend is unconscious, blood trickling down her forehead.

Chelsea joins her, tearing off a piece of her shirt and pressing it to the gash near (Y/N)'s hairline, "She's still breathing but barely."

Talia nods, finishing with the pile of fabric, "Swap with me." The two swap places before Talia shakes (Y/N) gently. She softly smacks her cheeks, "(Y/N) you gotta wake up! Please..." Tears flow freely down her own cheeks now as she looks up at the ceiling, "God you wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me..."

As she continues her attempts to wake (Y/N), one of the men shushes everyone, "I think I hear something," he announces, pressing his ear to the little bit of the door they had uncovered. "It's voices!" he cheers, "Help is here!" The room erupts into excitement as the man bangs on the door, "In here! Hey! We're in here!"

On the other side of the door, the 118 team hears the banging and rushes up the stairs as carefully as they can. Bobby yells, "We hear you! This is Captain Nash with LAFD. How many of you are there?"

From (Y/N)'s side, Talia whips her head up and yells back, "10! Firefighter down! One of yours!"

Panic blankets the team and Bobby has to grab a hold of Eddie to keep him from busting the door down, "We don't know what's on the other side of that door," Buck places a hand on Eddie's shoulder so Bobby can turn back to the door and find out what they're dealing with.

The man answers Bobby, "A pile of rubble! We've been trying to clear it because (Y/N) said this stairwell is our best bet on getting out."

Eddie's heart leaps into his throat at the confirmation that it's her. Buck's grip tightens, warning him to calm down. Bobby instructs, "Okay, I need everyone to get away from the door. We're gonna have to saw our way in."

The man looks down at (Y/N) and Talia, "We can't move (Y/N), she's staked to the floor by rebar. I think if I try to pull Talia away from her again, she might murder me." Buck's ears perk up at the mention of Talia. Maybe Tommy was onto something there. He shoves those thoughts aside as Bobby asks for the saw in his hands.

"Alright, the rest of you back away. Talia, do your best to shield her," Bobby responds, "Let us know when we're clear."

In the room, everyone puts plenty of distance between them and the door as Talia covers (Y/N)'s body the best she can, "Clear!"

Buck drags Eddie away as he and the team back up to give space. Bobby cuts a large enough hole in the door before handing the saw to Chimney, "Buck, help me with this." Together Bobby and Buck remove the metal chunk and as soon as he has a clear shot, Eddie rushes through the hole. Hen is right on his heels, med bag in hand, as Talia moves away from (Y/N) to let them work.

Bobby, Buck, Chimney, and Ravi set to work helping the others out of the building as Hen grabs Eddie's frantic hands, "You need to calm down, Eddie."

He takes a deep breath before placing two fingers on (Y/N)'s wrist, "Pulse is steady but dangerously weak." The two medics set to work doing their best to stabilize her. When Buck and Bobby join them, she has an oxygen mask on, IV line in, a pulse/ox monitor on her finger, and Hen is keeping pressure around the wound.

"What do we got?" Bobby asks firmly as he crouches beside Eddie, placing his hand on the distraught man's shoulder. Eddie can only stare down at her, repeatedly brushing her hair out of her face as he silently begs her to wake up.

Hen answers, "Vitals are steady but in the danger zone. She's lost a lot of blood. Rebar isn't too close to any vital organs but it went all the way through and into the floor."

Bobby nods, "We transport her with the rebar. Eddie, lift her up as gently as you can. Buck, hand me the bolt cutters and lift on the other side. Hen, keep pressure on that wound and an eye on her vitals." Everyone nods as Chimney and Ravi return from helping the last of the others out with a back board. On the count of three Eddie and Buck lift (Y/N) up enough that Bobby can cut the rebar underneath her. Once they've rolled her onto back, Hen quickly sets to work dressing the untouched side. In minutes, they're lifting her onto the back board and headed out of the building.

As they approach the scene commander, Bobby states, "We need an ambulance now."

The commander nods recognizing (Y/N), "We've got more on the way take the 133's." Bobby leads the way toward the 133 ambulance. Behind them, the commander yells, “I still need hands on deck, Nash.”

As Hen and Chimney load (Y/N) into the back, Bobby looks at them all, “I know we’re all worried about her. One driver and Eddie can go. Everyone else needs to stay here.” Talia takes a few steps back from the group as Eddie climbs into the back and Hen heads to the front. She looks up at the collapsing building and around at the firefighters and paramedics rushing around near them.

She looks back toward the ambulance as Bobby calls her name and holds his hand out to help her into the back. She’s still nervous about getting back out there right now but she knows she can be of more help here than at the hospital blaming herself for (Y/N)’s injury. She steps up beside him, ignoring his hand, “Got an extra turn out?”

Before Bobby can ask if she’s sure, Tommy runs up to them already wearing turn out gear and carrying an extra, “Heard you guys are down by two.” He sees (Y/N) in the back of the ambulance and he feels a touch of anger in the worry that settles in his chest as Eddie frets over her vitals. Bobby shuts the doors of the ambulance and gives it a few knocks before it pulls away.

He turns to Tommy, “Shouldn’t you be in a helicopter?”

“Commander radioed for extra hands and I’ve been grounded. Our station got hit pretty hard and took my ride down with it,” Tommy answers. He turns to Talia, offering her the extra gear that she can see her last name written on, “I had a hunch you’d be here so I grabbed your old gear before I left.” She takes it and quickly puts it on, looking to Bobby for orders.

Part 3

More 911

Main Masterlist

#911 #911 show #911 imagine #911 imagines #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz imagines #y/n #eddie diaz x y/n #hurt #injury #injured reader #earthquake #blood #blood loss

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ravenstargames · 9 months ago

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✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #9 | 02.29.24

What is this?! Two devlogs in one month?! More likely than you think! This February has been very productive for me and the team, so let's dive right into it!

Ooooh boy, Raquel keeps knocking it out of the park! She managed to get done every expression for every LI, and I coded them all! Now we have our wonderful characters ready for their debut. We have been using the wonderful Image Tools for Ren'py made by the talented and hard-working Feniks, whose tutorials and resources save a lot of dev's lives every day! This tool has made everything a bit easier for newbies like me, hehe.

Here's a taste of our edgelord's expressions! 💜 They're kind of a cutie when they put some effort into it!

We also had our second valentine's day celebration art piece thanks to Kayden! Sadly with the reworked version of the demo, you won't meet Vycar yet, so we thought we could ask for his forgiveness by giving him a beautiful bouquet and reminding him how much of a sweetheart he is! 💜

Also, Raeya got a hair update!

So, we weren't completely satisfied with the way we portrayed Raeya's hair, so this has been a rework we were sure we wanted to make. At first we were just going to render it again, but we ended up working on it from scratch to better represent what we envisioned for her. We hope you like it as much as we do! ; v ;💜

As always, we are open to any critique or advice; we are white people who have the luck to be able to ask POC friends for their advice as we work, but the more the merrier! Don't hesitate to send us your opinion to our ask box or even our email, [email protected]!

When it comes to the background department, we have been making great progress thanks to Airyn, who is honestly leaving us with our mouths hanging open every time! Thanks to her, another background has been finished and another one is in the making, leaving only two backgrounds to be revised and approved!

I personally can't stop looking at this WIP! She understood perfectly what we wanted to portray just by looking at an old WIP we had, and this is what we have so far—and it's already amazing!

Allie has been OBLITERATING the script. As of today, I think we have almost gone through everything that needed to be corrected and discussing, and lord if the script doesn't look a 100% better after we put it in Allie's hands. The way she writes, the way she understands everything I want to say even when sometimes I don't even know myself—what a talented, inspiring and amazing writer they are. I know I may sound annoying at this point singing her praises endlessly, but if the script is in the state where it is now, it's thanks to her!

My programming adventure of the month has been a success, if I say so myself! I've coded the characters with aaaaall their layers, their expressions, the blinking animations, made some videos, and started coding the script. Step by step as they say; I've coded 18 pages, and there's, uh...142 more to go. Haha! *sobs*

BUT WE ARE GETTING THERE! We can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I can finally click 'new game' and read the script and see the stuff going on! YAY!

Some extras of the month—we are preparing a Casting Call to choose the voice acting talent that will hopefully give voice to our characters. The demo won't be fully voiced (it's impossible with the funds we have, which are...zero), but if we are lucky we'll use some of our personal savings to pay for at least a few lines for each character so you can get an idea of how they'll sound if we get funded! Raquel is preparing an art piece for the announcement, and I'm getting the document ready and asking fellow VA friends for advice :3.

Also, we have a new member here at Ravenstar Games! Some weeks ago Astro and I formally adopted our first kitty, 8 month old Riki, fulfilling one of our dreams. We got him from a feline association that works with volunteers and fosters cats who have been abandoned, cats they find on the street, and so on. Riki has been living with me since January, and he's a happy, long big boy who loves playing, cuddles, and sitting on my desk while I try to work!

Say hi to the Ravenstar family, Riki! 💜

A productive month full of accomplished milestones, excitement and new challenges! The team has worked so hard, and I've done my part too! We still don't want to get ahead of ourselves, but we have done a lot of stuff we were sure we wouldn't finish yet, and look at that! We are doing so well!

As you can probably tell, my batteries are starting to run low, so I'm going to leave this devlog here. Thank you all like always for cheering us on, for being here in this journey with us, and for all the love you send our way. Let's hope March is as amazing as February has been, for us and for all of you! 💜

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #indiedev #devlog

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canonicallyobserving911 · 2 months ago

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“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 32 is now available on AO3.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Currently 32 chapters completed: 1.465M Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Here's a romantically fluffy snippet from Chapter 32 of a conversation Buck and Eddie are having while they dance in the living room.

___________

Once Eddie hears the introduction, he asks, “What song is this?”

“It’s “Blue Skies” by Noah and The Whale and I think it’s perfect because babe… for the past month and a half, we’ve experienced a lot of dark skies but I believe we’re finally about to see some blue skies.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Amore mio, what do you mean?”

“Well… the chorus of this song talks about blue skies are coming and I think that’s where we’re headed.”

They move to the center of the room, wrap their arms around each other’s waist and slow dance. When the leader starts singing verse one, Buck sings with him, “This is a song for anyone with a broken heart. This is a song for anyone who can’t get out of bed. Oh, do anything to be happy.”

Eddie gasps, he bites his bottom lip and tries to blink away his tears because he remembers it was just a few short weeks ago that Buck could barely get out of bed. On January 2nd, his heart rate lowered and he became unconscious and unresponsive and he thought he was going to leave him forever. Then Friday night, his heart stopped again but this time it was because someone tried to take him away. On Monday, he could barely get out of bed again but today, they’re in each other’s arms and they’re dancing like they used to and he’s so happy he can hardly contain it.

When his tears start rolling down his cheeks, he realizes he’s unsuccessful at stopping them.

Like always, Buck’s right there and he notices. He unwraps one of his arms, lifts his hand and wipes them away. Then he places soft kisses underneath both of his eyes and whispers, “I’m still here babe and I’m not going anywhere. EVER! I promise and I’ll never break your heart!”

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago. They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial. But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories. Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie. It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - After Buck resumes therapy, he’ll continue to face the fact that he “DIED” in March 2023 and during those sessions, he’ll learn about the 7 stages of grief. As he continues his healing journey, Eddie will be right by his side just like he promised and the Diaz family will start to deal with their three minutes and seventeen seconds loss as a family.

Chapter 28 - Two years ago, Eddie was asked, “What are you afraid of?”; twice, once by Frank and once by Buck but he only answered one of them without deflecting. Since that time, he’s been to therapy and him and Buck got married but the question resurfaces when Frank asks Buck the same question and Buck asks it of Eddie for the second time. However, when Buck asks, his reasoning will be about something else entirely.

Chapter 29 - After Buck and Eddie have an emotionally intimate conversation regarding their dreams, they make several decisions that will affect their future. When everything falls into place, they’ll realize one of those decisions will result in them no longer being work partners.

Chapter 30 - In 2018, Buck and Eddie met at the 118 and after some initial apprehensions on Buck’s part, they became work partners and they agreed to have each other’s backs. It’s been more than 6 ½ years, a lot’s happened, they got married in December 2023 and they have the family they both chose. With Eddie leaving the 118 in 3 months and Buck getting closer to moving past his grief, what will him losing his work partner mean for him?

Chapter 31 - As Buck’s life hangs in the balance from what’s suspected to be another bradycardia event, Eddie’s by his bedside, their son is being cared for by relatives and their found family is in the waiting room. During this time, many questions will surface that could possibly lead to the truth but will everything be revealed before it’s too late?

Chapter 32 - On January 2, 2024, the figurative skies over the Diaz family became gray and filled with storm clouds. Buck’s recent trauma, Chris’ school project and Eddie’s paramedic studies combined with the attack on Buck’s life, all those things contributed to the grief they’ve been experiencing. However, as the middle of February approaches, will the dark clouds dissipate so blue skies can return?

Chapter 33 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-32; they're available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #The Diaz Family #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Hiatus Reading #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #ao3 fanfic #buddie wip #Chapter 32 is now available on AO3

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boydepartment · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there! It's me, sheep anon! (One of these days I'm going to run out of ideas for greetings.) I realized after I wrote my message last time that I wrote Heartache instead of Superache, whoops, spelling is not my strong suit. My week hasn't been the greatest, but I feel much better than yesterday, so I'm working on it. *Looks at myself crying on the floor for 10 mins feeling miserable* I feel like giving advice today, so here's something that I've been repeating to myself recently:

Be kind to yourself and don't beat yourself up over making mistakes. Acknowledging the fact that we're all going to mess up in our lives is the antithesis to perfectionism. Otherwise, you'll realize that whoops, you've played yourself and forgot to treat yourself like a human being. You kinda have to live with yourself for the rest of your life, so get comfortable with yourself. The idea that I would have to spend the rest of my life being myself was incredibly scary in the beginning, especially since self hatred is a thing, but I find it really empowering now. The one person that would never leave you is yourself, so treat yourself as a friend. <3

There's still a lot I have to learn about the world, but I hope that this message is heard by whoever needs to hear it. Most of my advice I've gathered from other people and from my own experiences, and everything is a work in progress, but I'm working on being better. =) On a happier note, have fun going to the skz concert! Your outfit looks so cool and remember to stay hydrated throughout, I heard it gets really hot during the performance. It's really cold and windy where I live as well, so I hope it gets warmer and we can all go outside and bask in the sunlight. Hugs for everyone!

～⁠(⁠つ⁠ˆ⁠Д⁠ˆ⁠)⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆

-🐑

p.s. I did listen to Laufey and her music does remind me a lot of Dodie's, there's something warm about both of their music. If I had a recommend a content creator, it would be The Korean Vegan, her videos have very heartfelt and personal messages in them and have made me cry on more than one occasion. She's such a inspiration and her videos are about food, so you can't go wrong with that. She also has a podcast, which you can listen to on the go.

Hi again sheepie!!!! I’m really sorry your week has been rough :( I am glad it’s slowly getting better though!!

That is really good advice! I really believe I need to start thinking like that! I need to learn how to be less cruel towards myself, I’m very harsh towards myself and need a lot of things to be perfect in my eyes. Not towards other people of course, that would be really bad! In fact I tend to love people’s “imperfections.” Sometimes I get really sad when idols remove their uniqueness to them. I love unique and odd people. I need to start thinking that of myself. Your advice is always appreciated here :) thank you for always sharing

Also thank you so much!! I will definitely hydrate!!! I’ve been to a ton of concerts before and I tend to get a little wild! Not in a bad way though lol!!! I just love dancing around and singing along so much especially when I know the set list like the back of my hand!!

I cannot wait for the warmer weather, I live in an area where it gets warm very frequently so I am not used to the cold! I’m dying to finally get some better weather! I don’t do well in the cold lol please stay warm!!!!!! Cold and windy is a dangerous combo for colds!!!

I ended up watching a few videos from The Korean Vegan!!! This will genuinely help me a lot with food ideas because I don’t eat meat! I haven’t eaten meat since I was 11 or 12. I’m 18 now so it’s been AWHILE and a lot of testing different foods! Watching the food videos really made my stomach growl lol!!!

I hope your week starts to get a lot better! You are always very kind and sweet and so I hope things start looking up :) you know my ask box and dms are always open!

Have a good day sheepie!!

Oh! P.s

I wanted to ask if you currently have any favorite stray kids songs! I am always curious to ask this of people!!!

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havenoffandoms · 2 years ago

Text

Without Your Kisses (I’ll Be Needing Stitches)

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier (Geraskier)

Warnings: None

Summary:

It was probably what most people would call a peaceful evening. The sun was slowly setting behind the hills, basking their surroundings in warm hues of orange and red, giving way to an inky purple, cloudless sky. The first stars appeared on the canopy above just as the hot summer air progressively cooled with the impending evening. There was no noise, no disruption, nothing that would otherwise indicate that something was just about to disturb the peaceful silence that had settled over the Gwenllech valley.

Until-

“Son of a bitch”

Notes: Guess who’s back (back, back), back again! It’s been a long hiatus (sorry!) but hopefully this wee Geraskier drabble will make up for it :)

Until-

“Son of a bitch,” a loud, some would say dramatic, voice shrieked unexpectedly, startling a murder of crows out of a nearby tree which took flight in a cacophony of hoarse caws and grating coos. “That fucking hurts, you brutish, brusque, uncouth bastard witcher-”

“Stay still,” Geralt snapped, his eyes shooting up to glare at his companion. “You know, I have very little sympathy for you right now.”

“Don’t remind me!” Jaskier hissed in anticipation of the pain, even though Geralt was nowhere near his injury yet. “You are showing an incredible lack of empathy considering the love of your life is on death’s doorstep.”

“You’re not dying, Jaskier. It’s just a dislocation. You will live.”

“I might die from pain if you keep tugging at it like the brute you are!” Jaskier complained in a snippy tone, eyeing his dislocated knee like it might catch fire any second. Geralt heaved a deep sigh as he tried to find the right words to placate Jaskier and convince him that the next step was crucial to his recovery.

“I need to relocate the kneecap before we immobilise the leg. If I don’t, you’ll probably have to walk with a limp or a cane for the rest of your life. Is that really what you want?”

“I can sing and compose just as well with a broken leg,” Jaskier maintained stubbornly, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. Geralt felt like strangling this ridiculous peacock of a man.

“Good luck getting off this mountain in spring with a dislocated leg. Unless you’re happy for your only audience to be Vesemir.”

“You wouldn’t leave me up here all by myself.” Annoyingly, Geralt found himself agreeing with the bard. He was all up for teaching Jaskier a lesson, but he wasn’t cruel. If Jaskier asked, Geralt would probably carry him down the mountain.

“Even if I felt so generous as to help you down this mountain, I certainly wouldn’t be spending my time taking you to various bardic competitions because you couldn’t be bothered to properly heal your leg.” That was already a few inches closer to the truth, although Jaskier really didn’t need to know just how far Geralt would go to keep him happy. “And you know what will happen if you don’t show your face at those competitions, do you?”

Jaskier scowled at Geralt, clearly in a stroppy mood, but Geralt knew that he had hit a nerve already. With a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Geralt delivered the final blow.

“Would you rather put up with the pain for next few weeks while your leg heals properly, or live for the rest of your life knowing that you let Valdo Marx win the prize that you have been holding for five years straight?”

“Eight years,” Jaskier corrected Geralt vehemently, a new heat to his tone that Geralt rarely got to witness from his bard… unless, of course, the topic of conversation turned to Valdo Marx. “Eight years, and he will not take that from me, the opportunistic bastard.”

“So, does that mean-”

“Yes, yes , fine!” Jaskier relented, his gaze turning pleading as he met Geralt’s eyes again, “but do be gentle with me dear, alright? I am a delicate bard, unused to the harsh lifestyle you and your brothers have come to call normal over the centuries.”

“Delicate is not the word I’d use.”

“Oh, pray tell witcher, what word would you use to describe your sweetheart?” Jaskier challenged, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Choose your next words wisely, or you might end up sleeping on your own tonight.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Geralt deadpanned, fighting the smile threatening to break across his face as Jaskier scoffed in affront.

“That’s it, you’re sleeping in Eskel’s room tonight! Or Lambert’s, or Vesemir’s, I don’t care. Not with me, that’s for-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted the bard, his tone turning softer and patient like it did when he tried to coax stubborn Roach into compliance, “that’s enough trying to distract me from the task at hand. The quicker I do this, the quicker you can go back to whatever it was you were trying to do before you fell down the stairs.”

“Not my fault your stairs are dangerously slippery!” Jaskier defended himself, though there was no mistaking the edge in his tone. Geralt had been in the witchering business long enough to recognise fear when he saw it.

“Jaskier…”

“Alright, alright.” Jaskier readjusted himself so his back was pressed against the wall, grimacing when the action tugged at his injured leg. Geralt nearly winced in sympathy, though he knew that showing his own discomfort would only encourage Jaskier’s panic. After taking a composing breath, Jaskier closed his eyes and declared that he was ready with all the confidence of a rock troll ice skating over thin ice.

“I’ll count down from ten,” Geralt said reassuringly, watching Jaskier tense at those words. “You need to relax, Jask, or it will hurt more.”

“Said the man whose knee is currently still in the correct socket…”

“I’ve suffered enough dislocations in my lifetime to know what I’m talking about,” Geralt retorted, if a little defensively. “Deep breaths while I count down. Ten, nine,...”

Predictably, the knowledge that he still had another eight seconds before the pain came was enough to encourage Jaskier to relax ever so slightly, which was exactly what Geralt was counting on. He knew he had to work fast if he wanted to keep Jaskier’s pain levels at a minimum (and if he could simultaneously spare his and his brother’s ears in the process, well, that would be the cherry on the cake).

“Eight,... one.”

With practised movements, Geralt extended Jaskier’s leg with his right hand, and with his left pushed the dislocated kneecap back into line with the rest of Jaskier’s limb. A sharp cry and several passionate ow, ow, you lying, conniving bastard later, Geralt managed to gently lower Jaskier’s leg to the mattress and rise from the bed to look for anything that could serve as a brace for the next few days.

“You said you were counting to ten !” Jaskier accused, still panting and wiping the rogue tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No, I said I would count down from ten. There’s a difference.”

“There’s a difference,” Jaskier mocked Geralt in a forced baritone before flipping him the bird, “here’s what I think of your apology!”

“I wasn’t apologising,” Geralt remarked casually all the while rummaging through his chest for spare knee pads that he might use to immobilise Jaskier’s leg, “I needed you to relax your leg and that wouldn’t have been the case if you knew when to expect the pain. You tensing at the wrong moment could’ve made things worse.”

“Is that so, or are you lying to me again? You know, like when you gave me ten seconds to prepare myself and then snapped by knee back into place after three seconds!” said Jaskier petulantly, earning himself a pointed eye roll.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being a little bitch!”

“Would an apology make it all better, dear?” Geralt snarked in response, his patience slowly waning. When he looked up and met Jaskier’s hurt expression, however, something old and tired twisted in his chest. Guilt washed through him despite his better judgement at the sight of Jaskier’s pout, his wet cheeks and the arms crossed over a strong chest. With a heavy sigh, Geralt rose to his feet and walked to Jaskier’s side of the bed. Wordlessly, Geralt leaned down and pressed an apologetic kiss to Jaskier’s temple, taking a minute to nuzzle at the fine brown hair and inhale Jaskier’s familiar scent.

“Forgive me, little lark,” Geralt whispered genuinely in Jaskier’s ear, voice soft and contrite. “I didn’t mean to cause you any more pain.”

Jaskier physically deflated at the tender words, groaning under his breath as he leaned into Geralt’s touch.

“You do make it difficult for me to stay mad at you, dearest witcher.”

Jaskier tilted his head so that his nose brushed against Geralt’s, silently beckoning for another kiss which Geralt was weak to refuse. Their lips met in a slow, loving kiss that went straight to Geralt’s toes, and when Jaskier pulled away Geralt almost felt compelled to chase these delectably soft lips. He managed to reign the urge in, just about.

“You’re forgiven, of course. Thank you for returning my knee to its rightful location, my love.”

“Hm.”

“Ah, yes. I love you, too. Boorishness and all.”

“Ain’t I lucky?”

Despite the teasing tone, Geralt’s words were spoken with the kind of hidden sincerity that many people wouldn’t have known to look for if they didn’t know Geralt well enough. Not Jaskier, though. Geralt was an open fucking book to Jaskier.

“Yes, you very much are, dearest.”

#geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #fluff #ao3 #havenwrites

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years ago

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The Perfectly Awful Day

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires...a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical "Daddy Long Legs"

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Notes: Welcome to the newest story! I have had a few asks about adding to my BatFam writings and this story has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a while. So here it is!

BatFamily masterlist // next part

Sunday…The Perfectly Awful Day. I hated the first Sunday of every month at The Bowery Home. Every floor had to be scrubbed spotless, every chair dustless, and every bed without a wrinkle. Ninety-seven squirming little orphans must be scrubbed and combed and buttoned into freshly starched ginghams; and all ninety-seven reminded of their manners, and told to say, 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir,' whenever a trustee spoke.

As the oldest orphan, Mother Waller often dumped all of the preparation work on me. After sending the children to the waiting room to avoid getting dirty, I ran to the kitchen to finish the sandwiches and my lemon squares. My hair started to curl around my face from the heat of the kitchen and I had no doubt that I looked like a right mess. Having kept an ear out for the arriving engines, I knew as soon as the trustees arrive and I quickly ran back upstairs to make sure the kids had stayed presentable. They were straightened up and I marched them in an orderly line to the dining room.

As soon as the door closed behind the last child, I dropped down into the nearby window seat, letting the cool window soothe my throbbing temples. I had been on my feet since five this morning, doing everybody's bidding, scolded and hurried by a nervous matron. My hair could no longer be defined as a braid as half the hair had fallen out. As my eyes fluttered open, I saw one gentleman arriving later than most. It was hard to make him out through the snow, but even from a distance, I knew that this man was distinguished.

Success! The day was finally over and with minimal damage. The trustees and the visiting committee had made their rounds, and read their reports, and drank their tea, and now were hurrying home to their own cheerful firesides, to forget their bothersome little charges for another month. Again, I stared out the window and imagined what kind of life I would lead if I was in their position. I could see myself wrapped in a cloak with soft fur lining the neck, just like the one I think I remember my mother owning, and the dresses that fit her taller than average frame. I would gracefully slide into the back of the car and without a word, the chauffeur would take me back to my estate, where the maids would already have a warm bath ready by the fireplace and a library full of books ready for me to get lost in. I have a spectacular imagination. It is my one escape from the dreary orphanage I live in. While Mother Waller may not see the advantages of my imagination, I know someday that I will be renowned for it. It is my constant companion in the world of loneliness.

In the kitchen, Dick Grayson interrupts all my plans with his dreadful singing: “Y/N! You’re the wanted in the office. The office! THE OFFICE!” I immediately know the deep line between my brows is back as worry descends on me. It is never a good sign when Mother Waller wants to see us after a trustee visit. What could have gone wrong, I wondered. Were the sandwiches not thin enough? Were there shells in the lemon cakes? Had a lady visitor seen the hole in Stephanie Brown’s stocking? Had—O horrors!—one of the cherubic little babes in my own Room F sassed a trustee? I bet it was Jason Todd.

Unfortunately, the entryway had not yet been lit for nighttime, so I stopped in front of the first mirror I could see and tried to beat the flour out of my skirt and quickly redo my braid, swinging the rope over my shoulder. In the rush to make myself presentable, I had failed to notice the tall figure also in the entryway who had been watching me since I’d come flying around the corner. Only when a car finally pulled up, did he make himself known. I only caught another fleeting glance and again the impression consisted entirely of tallness. As the car approached, head on for an instant, the glaring headlights threw his shadow sharply against the wall inside. The shadow pictured grotesquely elongated legs and arms that ran along the floor and up the wall of the corridor. A gust of wind came through and his cloak went flying. It looked, for all the world, like a huge, wavering bat. The imagery cheered me for a moment before the worry set back in.

I would consider myself to be a fairly optimistic sort and I intend to always snatch the tiniest excuse to be amused. If one could derive any sort of entertainment out of the oppressive fact of a trustee, it was something unexpected to the good. I knocked on the door to Mother Waller’s office and was shocked to find her waiting for me with a smiling face. Affable was never the word used to describe our leader. Gesturing for me to take a seat, she immediately began a speech that had been given some thought, “Did you notice the gentleman who has just gone?'

“I saw his back.”

“He is one of our most affluent trustees, and has given large sums of money toward the home's support. I am not at liberty to mention his name; he expressly stipulated that he was to remain unknown.” I was not used to this kind of conversation. An invitation to the office to discuss the eccentricities of trustees with the matron was simply unheard of. “This gentleman has taken an interest in several of our boys. You remember Harvey Dent and Hal Jordan? They were both sent through college by Mr.—er—this trustee, and both have repaid with hard work and success the money that was so generously expended. Other payment the gentleman does not wish. Heretofore his philanthropies have been directed solely towards the boys; I have never been able to interest him in the slightest degree in any of the girls in the institution, no matter how deserving. He does not, I may tell you, care for girls.”

'No, ma'am,' it seemed some reply was expected at this point. “To-day at the regular meeting, the question of your future was brought up.' Mother Waller allowed a moment of silence to fall, “Usually, as you know, the children are not kept after they are sixteen, but an exception was made in your case. You had finished our school at fourteen, and having done so well in your studies it was determined to let you go on in the village high school.” I did not understand why the matron was retelling my own history to me, I had in fact been there and knew what happened. Some would even consider me the main character in that little tale. “Now you are finishing that, and of course, the asylum cannot be responsible any longer for your support. As it is, you have had two years more than most.'

I chose not to comment on the fact that some details were overlooked. I had worked hard for my board these extra years. My education was not a priority, instead, my responsibility to the home came first. Today was a perfect example. “As I say, the question of your future was brought up and your record was discussed—thoroughly discussed.” She looked down at me with accusatory eyes as though she was a prosecutor and I a prisoner in the dock. I quickly switched to a guilty facade as that seemed to be what was expected. “Of course, the usual disposition of one in your place would be to put you in a position where you could begin to work, but you have done well in school in certain branches; it seems that your work in English has even been brilliant. Miss Kyle, who is on our visiting committee, is also on the school board; she has been talking with your rhetoric teacher, and made a speech in your favor. She also read aloud an essay that you had written entitled, ‘Blue Sunday’.” Oh…this time I know why I look guilty. The essay in question had been about days such as this current one, where I was run from dawn to dusk.

Mother Waller continued on her tangent. “It seemed to me that you showed little gratitude in holding up to ridicule the institution that has done so much for you. Had you not managed to be funny I doubt if you would have been forgiven. But fortunately for you, Mr.—, that is, the gentleman who has just gone—appears to have an immoderate sense of humor. On the strength of that impertinent paper, he has offered to send you to college.'

“To college?” I thought my heart was going to burst with excitement. I was going to leave!

The matron nodded. 'He waited to discuss the terms with me. They are unusual. The gentleman, I may say, is erratic. He believes that you have originality, and he is planning to educate you to become a writer.”

“A writer?” At this moment, I was numb and dumb. Doomed to only repeat words spoken at me.

“That is his wish. Whether anything will come of it, the future will show. He is giving you a very liberal allowance, almost, for a girl who has never had any experience in taking care of money, too liberal. But he planned the matter in detail, and I did not feel free to make any suggestions. You are to remain here through the summer, and Miss Kyle has kindly offered to superintend your outfit. Your board and tuition will be paid directly to the college, and you will receive in addition during the four years of education, $35 a month. The money will be sent to you by the gentleman's private secretary once a month, and in return, you will write a letter of acknowledgment once a month with a report of your studies.” She continued to talk, but I couldn’t pay attention. I was going to college! And I would be a writer! I only snapped out of my thought because the matron had stopped speaking. I nodded and like a little cloud, I floated out the door.

#toomanyrobins #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #batman x reader #battison #battison x reader #battison imagine #dcu imagine #batfamily x reader #batfam imagine #batfam #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batfam x reader #✉️

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novantinuum · 2 years ago

Text

The Ballad of Aryll (AU-Verse) Masterpost

I thought it’d be fun to gather up all the scattered asks, art, and writing scraps I’ve done so far for this in-progress fic project, so, a masterpost!

(I’ve also been busy with other hobbies for a bit, so this is honestly just my way of immersing myself back into my story to prime my creative juices for working on it again! :D)

I’ll update this periodically as I share more.

”Jen? What on earth is this whole story even about?”

WHY, THANK YOU FOR ASKING! :D

At its core, this is a story about siblings struggling to find their way in an unfamiliar world- about two people who have long been separated by circumstance having to learn how to be a family again- about the journey of grief, and the sometimes unexpected routes one is led on while grappling with it.

Fundamentally though, the core premise is that Link has a little sister, and that said little sister was also placed into the Shrine of Resurrection 100 years prior to the start of the fic. The sister, Aryll, remembers nearly everything (except why she’s here). As in canon, however, Link does not.

On a functional scale this fic will serve as a sort of written adaptation of Breath of the Wild, but slid just a little to the left. It will feature a few re-imaginings of small bits of worldbuilding and character dynamics to better suit the specific story I have in mind, and then of course an original character in Aryll. I’ve been writing this as POV alternating, switching between Aryll and Link’s perspective from chapter to chapter.

Over the two years I’ve been dreaming up this little story, I’ve accumulated a bunch of little lore notes, art, and other bits and bobs on this blog- this masterpost aims to collect all of them in one handy spot, so future readers can go back and check out some of the earliest posts about this project!

_____________________

The Ballad of Aryll: Song of Time [OFFICIAL AO3 LISTING]

Rating: Teen

Chapters posted: 9/82

Current act: 1 of 4

Words: 37K~

Last updated: August 15th 2023

Next planned update: On posting break to build more buffer!

_____________________

Initial plot sketches/basic story background:

First post about this story

Ask response about focus and themes of story, + art WIP!

Full Google Docs Outline [It’s... er. Very long.]

Writing WIPS:

Full Prologue (Early release)

Chapter 3 scene

Chapter 3 snippit

Chapter 7 scene

Chapter 9 scene

Chapter 17 scene

Art (both by me and others!):

First concept sketch of Aryll

Child Aryll’s art reference sheet (As seen above) Aryll expression practice

Updated cover art with Hylian lettering + updated Aryll art

Link & Aryll on Great Plateau WIP

Link & Aryll on Great Plateau final piece (As seen above)

Assorted TBoA doodles

Shitpost ft. a Spiderman meme

Singing Aryll by candra-hearts

Aryll art commissioned by shisei11

Lore asks:

Aryll + an amnesiac brother: is she the babysitter or the babysat?

Aryll & singing

Childhood friends part 1

Childhood friends part 2

Foraging favorites

Aryll & Paya’s bond

Can Aryll see Koroks/dragons?

Link & Aryll’s favorite/least favorite places

Riju & Aryll’s meet-cute

Aryll’s preferred weapon

Aryll’s opinion of Zelda

Link and Aryll’s opinion of each other

What can’t Link and Aryll admit to each other?

A boatload of Aryll OC ask answers

More Aryll OC ask answers

On Aryll and Link’s sibling relationship

Other:

Personality notes for Link & Aryll in this story

A few songs that remind me of TBoA

“6 Secrets” character work game with Link & Aryll

Creating a title for TBoA

Chapter teaser #1

Chapter teaser #2

Chapter teaser #3

Random dialogue teasers

Link & scars

Hero Forge model of Link & Aryll’s dad

_____________________

Pre-TBoA content:

Clutching Destiny [AO3 link, 4/4 chapters.]

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 10K~

Summary: Sir Arwel Haywood, loyal knight of Hyrule's royal guard and proud father of two, has never considered himself a particularly religious man.

Regardless, he can't help but fear the kind of deity who would condemn a mere child to being an instrument of Her endless war.

(Or... the story of how Link's father comes to learn about his son's fateful destiny.)

Writer’s meta about Clutching Destiny

More meta about Clutching Destiny

Aryll questions: Favorite childhood activities?

Assorted questions for Aryll, and her and Link’s parents

Sketches of Link and Aryll’s parents

Recovered Family Portrait art by me! (As seen above)

Ficlet by englandamericaitaly [Canon to this AU, Link’s mother’s POV]

Post-TBoA content (Adult Aryll):

Unspoken Upheavals [AO3 link, 1 chapter.]

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.4K~

Summary: A dozen days past, Aryll still remembers exactly where she stood at the precise moment of the Upheaval’s rising… at the precise moment she realized something terrible must have happened to her brother and Zelda. (Minor spoilers for TotK initiating events.)

Mini fic + Aryll in Zonai Survey Team garb art

Aryll questions: Regrets, Conflict, Representative colors

ARYLL FOR NEW SAGE OF SPIRIT PROPOGANDA

Aryll, Sage of Spirit art

Adult Aryll’s art reference sheet (As seen above)

Adult Aryll’s character personality sheet

Mock Age of Calamity profile

Musings on post-TBoA Aryll fighting in Age of Calamity

Musings on post-TBoA Aryll and Tears of the Kingdom

Some lovely art by shisei11

More lovely art by Redundantz

#the ballad of aryll #jen rambles

38 notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

291 notes · View notes

watchyourbluesturngolden · 4 years ago

Note

I would love to see Harry jealous because his wife give a man ( Kindergarten teacher ) a compliment that he deals really well with Stevie.

this got kind of long oops, hope you like it :)

it's kind of cute

warnings: none

word count: 2k

“Time to go, Stevie!” You called, adjusting your coat in the mirror by the door. “Come get your shoes!”

You heard her feet pattering on the hall floor before Harry yelled, jumping out at her and scooping her up. She screamed in delight, laughing as he hoisted her onto his shoulders.

“Look at me!” She yelled, holding her arms out to her sides. “I’m so tall!”

“You are,” you laughed. “Is my tall girl ready to go?”

“I think our tall girl needs some shoes first,” Harry said, lifting her down. “The pink ones or the yellow ones?”

She thought intently before picking up the yellow shoes. She beamed when she got them on the right feet on the first try.

“Good job!” Harry said, reaching down to high-five her. Shoes were a tricky thing to learn. There had been a lot of struggling, but she was finally getting the hang of it.

She smiled, jumping up from the floor. Harry held her coat, helping her slip her arms into the sleeves.

“Let’s go! Come on, mom,” She said, bouncing on her feet. “Go faster!”

“Yeah, mum, hurry up,” Harry said jokingly. You shot him a look, opening the door so Stevie could run to the car.

Harry put his arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the car.

“She’s getting so big,” he commented. “Why can’t she just stay our little baby?”

“Very unfortunate,” you sighed. You made sure Stevie was settled before getting in and buckling your own seatbelt. Harry got in the driver’s seat, starting the car.

“I’m in the mood for some Moana,” he said, handing you his phone before he pulled out of the driveway. “What do you think, Stevie?”

“Moana!” She yelled, eyes lighting up.

You shared a smile with Harry as she began belting out the lyrics.

“I wonder where she got her singing voice?”

“No idea,” he laughed.

-----

He pulled into the school parking lot, stopping the music to grandly announce, “We’re here!”

Stevie gasped in excitement, already fidgeting with her seatbelt. Harry opened her door for her, holding her hand so she could jump down. You took her other hand, swinging her arms between you as you walked toward the school.

“Alright, Stevie, where are we going?” You asked, even though you knew where her classroom was.

“Yeah, we don’t know where it is, you have to help us!” Harry said excitedly. “Lead the way, princess!”

Stevie let go of your hands as she marched down the hall.

“Look at her, so grown up,” he said sadly, taking your now empty hand in his.

“I know, she’s practically an adult. Oh, she’s going to be in middle school soon, and then high school, and then college, and then she’ll be gone,” you said, getting emotional already.

“Wait, wait, we can’t get ahead of ourselves yet, this is a kindergarten parent-teacher conference, we have a few years.”

“Right, you’re right,” you smiled.

“Here it is!” Stevie announced, pointing at the door, which was decorated to look like a box of crayons.

“Oh, how cute!” You said, noting that each crayon was labeled with a student’s name. “Stevie, you’re the yellow one! It matches your shoes!”

“I know!” She said excitedly. “That’s why I wore them!”

“Very smart, Stevie. Very fashionable,” Harry said, ruffling her hair.

He opened the door, allowed both of you to walk in ahead of him.

“Hello! Hi Stevie, it’s good to see you!” Her teacher said, waving you over to his desk.

“Hi Mr. Jeffery!” She said, running over to him. “Is it here?”

“Of course it is! It’s right over there on the drying rack, if you want to show your mom and dad,” he said, pointing across the room.

She ran in the direction he pointed. When she came back, she was carrying a painting of a butterfly.

“Did you make that?” Harry asked, crouching down to inspect her artwork. “Wow, this is amazing, love! We’ll put this on the fridge so everyone can see it,” he promised, smiling.

“Yes, Stevie loves our art projects, don’t you?” Mr. Jeffery asked, smiling when she nodded enthusiastically.

“I have to talk to your mom and dad for a few minutes, Stevie. What would you like to do while we talk?”

“Color!” She said, shoving the butterfly painting into Harry’s arms.

“Alright, do you remember where the crayons are?”

“Yes I do!” She ran over to the art section, busying herself immediately.

“Yes, she’s very into art,” You said, smiling as you and Harry settled into the chairs behind Mr. Jeffery’s desk.

“I’ve noticed! She’s taken a particular interest in painting. Does she do a lot of that at home?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry laughed. “Y/N isn’t so happy with that, though, she’s ruined quite a few shirts.”

“We try to steer her towards more... dry activities,” you said, smiling.

“Well, that’s understandable,” Mr. Jeffery laughed, clicking around on his computer. “So, today I just want to talk about her progress. As you probably know, she does extremely well in several areas. She can do some sight reading, which is not something we see very often at this age. She is also doing very well with her numbers, colors, and shapes.”

Harry beamed as Mr. Jeffery laid out how well Stevie was doing. Of course, he already knew she was the most amazing child in the world, but it was nice to have outside validation.

“That’s great, we tried to expose her to as much reading as we could, we really wanted her to be prepared,” you said.

“You did an excellent job,” he smiled, looking at you.

Harry didn’t like this, even though he knew it was this man’s job to reassure and praise parents. He just didn’t like the way he looked at you. He was smiling a little too much.

“Yes, we did,” Harry said, leaning a little closer to you. He looked at the teacher with a face that was just a little less than friendly.

Mr. Jeffery cleared his throat, turning back to his computer.

“As for her social skills, she is also doing very well there. Aside from the normal kindergarten spats, she has no issues getting along with the other children. She communicates very well with the other teachers and myself. We really don’t have any problems,” he smiled again, this time making sure not to look at you for too long.

“Looks like we did a good job,” you beamed, nudging Harry. His intimidating face dropped and he smiled as he took your hand.

“Look at us go,” he said, looking across the room to where Stevie was still coloring.

“You’re very good with her,” you said, following his gaze. “I know she can be a handful sometimes,” you laughed, turning slightly to Mr. Jeffery.

Harry’s jaw tightened when he saw your face. He knew you were smiling from looking at Stevie, but he still didn’t like how happy Mr. Jeffery looked. He squeezed your hand a little tighter, causing you to shoot him a confused look. He kept his eyes fixed on Stevie, willing himself to stay calm. Y/N hasn’t done anything wrong, he reminded himself.

“No, she’s usually very well behaved,” he said, flipping through his notes. “Again, we’ve had very few problems.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you said, running your other hand up and down Harry’s forearm.

“Well, that’s all I have for you today, unless you have any other questions?” He asked, looking you and Harry. You looked at him, both shaking your heads at the same time.

“I think we’re good,” you said, turning back to him with a smile.

“Alright, well it was good to see you today,” Mr. Jeffery said, standing to shake hands with you. Harry watched intently, not blinking until the man pulled away from you. When he reached for him, Harry made sure to squeeze a little tighter than necessary. Not too hard. Just enough to make him nervous.

“If you have any more questions, please feel free to contact me,” he said, smiling tightly.

“Yes, we’ll do that,” Harry said, not breaking eye contact. Finally, Mr. Jeffery stepped away to get Stevie. Harry moved his arm to rest over your shoulders again, smiling at Stevie when she skipped over.

“Did you make us a pretty drawing?” He asked, removing his arm to bend down. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he beamed. “Another one for the fridge, I think!”

Stevie giggled, taking your hand as she turned to wave at her teacher.

“Bye Mr. Jeffery! See you later,” she said, completely unaware of how tense Harry was behind her.

Harry placed his hand on your back, shepherding you both out of the room. Once the door was closed, you stepped away to look at him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, concerned at how tight his face was. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Harry shook his head, flicking his eyes towards Stevie, trying to communicate not now.

You frowned, but silently agreed, taking his hand as you walked down the hall.

Harry was quiet the entire ride home. He didn’t sing along to the Disney music, even when Stevie yelled out “everybody!” before the big chorus. This was concerning. He usually sang even when Stevie didn’t want him to, and he could normally never resist her cheering him on. Something was definitely wrong, but you could tell he didn’t want to talk about it right now.

It couldn’t be that bad, though, because he was still holding your hand like he had been since you left Mr. Jeffery’s room. He had only let go of you when you had to get in the car.

Once you got home, Stevie ran off to her room, yelling something about “a tea party with Mr. Snuffles!”

“Harry?” You asked gently, approaching your husband. His back was facing you and his hands were braced against the counter. “Harry, really, what happened? Did I do something?”

“No,” he turned around quickly. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for you. You wrapped your arms around him, listening to his deep breathing as he held you.

“Ok, then what’s the problem? You looked so mad when we were talking to Mr. Jeffery,” you said. “What?” You asked again when felt him tense up at your words.

“Nothing, it’s just- it’s stupid,” he said, shaking his head.

“Harry, nothing that upsets you this much is stupid.”

“It’s just- ugh,” he groaned, dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck. “I just hated how he looked at you.”

“You- what?” You said, pulling back. He looked at you, embarrassed.

“I told you it’s stupid,” he said, blushing. “I just didn’t like how you were talking to him, saying how good he was with Stevie, and how happy he looked. I don’t know, it’s dumb,” he mumbled, looking at the floor.

“Hey, come on,” you said, taking his hands in yours. “I don’t think it’s dumb.”

“No?” He asked, looking at you again.

“No, it’s not,” you said, smiling. “It’s kind of cute.”

“It’s not cute,” he said grumpily. “I feel like a child.”

“You’re not a child,” you promised, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Maybe a little immature, but-“

“You’re so mean!” He exclaimed, laughing. “I’m so nice to you, and you repay me how? By hurting my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you smiled, kissing his cheek again.

“I’ll forgive you,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “But only if you give me a kiss.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #stevie #stevie fics #one direction #one direction fanfiction #dad!harry

371 notes · View notes

dickwheelie · 3 years ago

Note

jmart fic prompt: there's a piano in the safehouse

sorry for how long this took! but here it is :) hope you like!

__________

"Of all the people I'd expect to have an old Casio keyboard in their basement," Jon said, grunting a bit as he dragged his end of the keyboard up another stair, "Daisy would be last on the list."

"What about--huff--Elias?" Martin said, pulling his end up and onto the ground floor of the safehouse, carefully setting the keyboard down on its stand.

Jon followed him out of the basement and stretched, with several noises of complaint from his back (though Martin had been doing most of the heavy lifting). "Hmm, touche." Jon turned eagerly towards the keyboard. "This old thing . . . I haven't seen one of these since uni, and even then they were vintage . . ."

Martin hummed with interest. "Vintage, you say?" He poked a couple of the plastic keys, but no sound came out.

"Oh, do you play?" Jon said, as he began searching for an outlet for the power cord.

"Ah--no," Martin said. He glanced over at Jon. "Do you?"

"Yeah, of course. Ah-hah!" Jon had moved aside a dresser to reveal an outlet. "Why else would I make you drag this up here?"

"I didn't know you played keyboard." Martin sat down in the nearby armchair as Jon approached the stand again.

"I took piano lessons as a kid. Or, my grandmother dropped me off at piano lessons, and I usually disappeared somewhere between the end of the driveway and the front door of the piano teacher's house." Jon laughed at the memory. "I still managed to learn, though, because I'd take home the lesson books and teach myself, on my own time."

Martin grinned. "You were such a precocious kid."

"I was a weird kid."

"Nah, I bet you were adorable," said Martin.

"You can be both adorable and weird."

"I was a weird kid too," Martin said. "Maybe we would've gotten along."

"Maybe," said Jon. "Did you like sitting and reading in total silence for hours at a time?"

"Nope. Did you like playing video games?"

"I . . . I'm not sure. My grandmother never allowed them in the house."

"I would've let you use my Nintendo."

"I would've refused. Too pedestrian for my refined young taste."

"God, I would've hated you," Martin said, laughing.

"So would I. Good thing we met when we did."

Martin smiled at him lopsidedly. "Yeah. Good thing."

"Anyway," Jon said pointedly, turning back to the keyboard, "let's see if I can remember . . ." He ran his hands over the keys, playing a few scales as though testing the waters. He tried a few chords, and, apparently satisfied, started the beginning of what Martin recognized as "Killer Queen."

"Hey, you're good," Martin said, leaning forward. The old keyboard itself sounded tinny, but Jon's fingers moved smooth and sure over the keys.

Jon snorted. "Try not to sound so surprised."

"I just didn't realize you were so talented."

"I'm rusty. And I was never amazing to begin with."

"Better than I could've done," said Martin.

Jon finished the first verse with a little flourish and paused, fingers hovering over the keys.

"Do you take requests?" Martin asked.

"Hm. Alright, try me," Jon said with a smile.

"Do you know . . ." Martin thought for a moment. "Can you do 'Rocket Man'?"

Jon's brow furrowed in thought. Hesitantly, he placed his fingers on the keys and began feeling out the melody, growing in speed and confidence as he went on. "There we go," he murmured to himself as he reached the first chorus, which he played perfectly, at least to Martin's untrained ears.

After a couple choruses, Jon stopped again, and Martin clapped. Jon took a few exaggerated bows in his direction.

"Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week," Jon said.

"You really are good," Martin said. "I don't know how you just . . . hear the music and then recreate it like that."

Jon shrugged. "It's just a lot of shortcuts, really. Once you figure out the chord progression everything else comes pretty easily. It's harder to learn songs by heart."

"Alright," said Martin, settling in, "do you know any songs by heart, then?"

"Well . . ." said Jon, the picture of innocence, "there is one . . ."

Martin motioned for him to continue, and Jon placed his hands on the keys once again. Out came the same tinny sound as before, but with a much richer melody, both of Jon's hands moving over the keys in a complicated dance.

And then Jon started to sing. It was a lilting, slow melody to match the accompaniment, with lyrics Martin recognized:

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes

Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond

Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond . . .

Martin felt his mouth drop open. Jon had a nice voice. Which made sense, he supposed, since he already liked Jon's speaking voice so much. He just hadn't expected Jon's singing voice to be so . . . soft. It reminded Martin of when Jon would get quiet late at night, only speaking just above a murmur, as though he was afraid of shattering the peaceful nighttime of the Highlands.

Martin listened quietly as Jon sang the final verse:

O ye'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road

And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye

But me and my true love will never meet again

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

"Jon, that was gorgeous," Martin said softly, once Jon had played the last note. "You've got a really nice voice."

"I've always really liked that song," Jon said. "It's sad, but beautiful. And it seemed appropriate, given our location."

"Yeah, good choice."

"We should try to visit," Jon said. "Loch Lomond. It can't be far, we can go by train."

"We're supposed to be in hiding, remember?"

"Oh, right. Damn," said Jon, and Martin smiled.

"Maybe after this all blows over," Martin said after a moment. "We'll go see the bonnie banks for ourselves."

Jon grinned. "High road or low?"

"Your pick."

"Generous of you."

"Yeah, well," said Martin, "small price to pay for the private concert I'm being treated to."

"For you, it's free admission. With an all-access pass."

"To what?"

Jon looked at him incredulously. "To me, of course."

Martin barked a laugh. "I'd hope so!"

"It looks like I'll be giving a lot of private concerts in the near future," said Jon, fingering a few keys. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Well," Martin said, as Jon started the first few bars of what Martin recognized as "Come On Eileen," "good thing we've got plenty of time."

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes #listen i know casio keyboards make everything sound bad but shhhhh it's fiiiiiiine

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musicallisto · 4 years ago

Text

Ψ — 𝐜𝐨́𝐦𝐨 𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫; (leo valdez x reader)

@fives-cup-of-coffee requested: Hi can I please get Leo Valdez (Hoo) + number 142? Tysm,bb ! Love your blog💗💗 song: morat - cómo te atreves | 𝄞

summary: In which Leo Valdez was having a good day. That is, of course, until you showed up.

word count: 1.9k author notes: at first I wanted to make it light-hearted & comical as the song would suggest and then it progressively got more serious and angstier and then I just have no idea where it went lol I hate it here. I hope you like this! + stan Morat they’re amazing warnings: there’s like one bad word in Spanish and I hope it’s not too Spaniard bc I looked everywhere for a Mexican equivalent of “cagüendios” asdjdj Mexicans please correct me

𝐋𝐄𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐙 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 have had the boldness of saying he was having a good day. No bloodthirsty monster nor megalomaniac Titan had decided to take over the world or rip him to pieces; he hadn’t had to dodge a meteor or plunge into the heart of a volcano; and to top it all off, he had not heard Percy sing once.

No, really, despite the cold, biting wind that froze the February morning, Leo Valdez was having a good day.

That is, of course, until you showed up.

Maybe it was his wind-swept curls blocking his eyes, maybe it was the whirring of Festus’ mechanical breathing under his fingertips, maybe it was the total peace of mind that inhabited him as he whistled to himself, but he had been impervious to his surroundings, surrendered to the memory of his aerial stroll with Calypso earlier in the morning, completely devoted to patching the dragon’s attrition up, so much so that he hadn’t heard you approaching at all. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your visit after this many years, especially not on a cold morning in the woods of Long Island.

“Leo?”

“Woah, buddy, your clicks are starting to sound more and more like a real human voice. I might have to celebrate your first word soon.”

“Leo Valdez, behind you.”

He whirled around, and stupidly enough, the first thought that went through his mind was disappointment—so Festus wasn’t learning human communication after all, despite his best efforts. But when Leo pushed the hair out of his face and devised for the first time in four years your slightly embarrassed figure, hands buried in your pockets and abashed smile on your face, he couldn’t stop his jaw and heart from dropping.

So the suspect, gravelly grunt he had heard just before was not Festus protesting—duly noted. It was you, impatiently—and rather awkwardly—scratching your throat to catch his attention... You! After four years!

“Y/N?” he called out, and the way your name rolled off his tongue, with incredulity yet ease, was enough to remind you of how familiar his voice had once been.

“In the flesh. Ta-da,” you tentatively exclaimed, unsure about whether you should step toward him.

Leo seemed just as lost and confused as you were, eyeing you without truly processing it. No one, nothing had ever prepared him to face the return of someone he’d loved so dearly after losing them for so long. No prophecy had foretold any of this, no mischievous god had ever sent a cryptic message in a dream or smoke patterns. One day he had more or less started to accept the unshakeable hole you had dug in his heart when you left, and that he had tried to fill up as well as he could with new memories and songs and adventures — and the next you were waltzing back into his life as though he hadn’t spent the better part of four years struggling to forget you?

He took a small step forward without realizing it, but his body language read all but cordiality. A bubble of irritation started to form in the pit of his stomach and throat; he had started to fidget with his adjustable spanner.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Behind him, Festus grated, a low and rumbling sound like still water stirring upon the approach of a storm. Leo swore he heard his heartbeats echoed in the loyal beast’s enormous ribcage.

“What do you want from me, Y/N? Haven’t you done enough?”

Oh, you had done more than enough. When you were friends and he had first fallen for you — you had mended his broken heart, stayed by his side as everyone went on to celebrate life and renewal and he was stuck in the downpour that Calypso’s first departure had wreaked. That was more than enough. When you were just a little more than friends and he had started to learn anew, step by step, what it meant to love, and first and foremost let himself be loved — you had been patient and kind, you had walked hand in hand with him on the road to healing, never pushing him to go further than he could. That was more than enough. When you were definitely more than friends, and he had found himself falling deeper in love with you with each passing day — you had loved him all the same, or so you promised, and made his every day an adventure and a safe embrace like no other. That was more than he ever deserved.

When you had left without warning for some foreign place on the other side of the world, leaving him only a note and a handful of colored glass shards, never to give a sign of life in four years...

That was more than enough.

You had dared to take one step forward, palms outstretched as if you were calming a wild animal. A frenzy of conflicting flames bubbled in Leo’s stomach — you were a stranger now to him, and he was once again happy with Calypso. Then why did he get the overwhelming urge to jump into your arms and rediscover the sweetness of your embrace?

“I’m so sorry, Leo, I never wanted to leave, I truly didn’t, but you have to understand —”

“Understand what? That whatever business you had to attend to was more important than me? That I meant so little to you that you just left me a post-it note with a sad smiley face on it and never came back? You didn’t send a word in four years! I bet you didn’t even think about me on February 29th!”

“Actually I left in April, but —”

“Can you imagine how hard it was for me to get over you? To forget you? No, scratch that—I haven’t forgotten you, no matter how hard I try to convince myself. But I was doing just fine, and you have a whole lotta nerve coming back now that I’m finally happy without you! ¡Pues huevos! ¡Al carajo todo esto!”

And he went on and on in a string of all the curses he’d remembered from when his mother argued on the phone, his cheeks reddening progressively, his breath faltering.

You stayed immobile, just an arms’ length apart from him until he had spewed out everything he’d carried for years. His chest trembled, shuddering at all the dust and waste it had swept under the rug, now displayed in full light before him; and you ached for him, underneath your cool composure, you truly did, just as you had ached yourself when you had left. How could you not? Leo had been light and warmth and fire and a comforting smell of smoke and gasoline and coffee-stained fingertips on your cheek and your neck... and most of all, the heart you would least have wanted to break.

“Leo...”

You murmured his name a few more times, until he looked up at you. Oh, that face, red and weepy and distorted by rage and overwhelm! How you hated it in those moments, like a cheap mask over a Roman statue!

“Leo, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t excuse anything, but trust me, I would never have done that if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“What was, Y/N? What was more important than me?”

“I... I can’t tell you, Leo. I would if I could, but — “

“Of course! Even after four years, you’re still so full of secrets!”

“Jupiter told me not to say anything. To anyone.”

Leo’s parted lips, already fuming with more witty remarks, closed shut, and his chocolate eyes widened. The god of gods’ name was always enough to temper even the most boisterous of heroes’ fumes of anger, but not Leo’s erratic heart.

“Jupiter?”

“I got a mission from the gods. That’s why I left. To Rome. But they made me swear I didn’t say anything... not even an excuse.”

Leo swallowed, with difficulty, as if the information was a toxic flame permeating his throat. Before he could even register it, you continued, breathing deeply to steady your breathing:

“I owe you more than an apology... an explanation, at least. If you want to hear it... meet me in the woods at the gate of Camp Half-Blood at sundown. I’d understand if you didn’t come, but... just know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

For a split second, you were traversed by the thought, almost automatic, of leaning over to kiss Leo’s cheek, just like you had done it thousands of times to wish him goodbye; but you cut your impulses fast enough, only staring at his eyes for a few long minutes of dumbfounded silence before you turned on your heels and left.

In a single blink, the wind had caught your silhouette and carried it into the shadows of the trees.

And Leo stood there, colder than he would have admitted, motionless and partly oblivious to Festus’ impatient whirring over his shoulder. His chest rose and fell rapidly, quicker than the leaves rustling in the breeze; it had dried in his eyes too much for any tears to well up, despite the painful pang spreading in his chest. Had it not been for the weight in his ribcage, he could’ve believed you were but a ghost in the forest...

When you had left him without a word nor even a glimpse of a smile, Jason had admonished him to be brave and stronger than whatever misery you had inflicted; to not let any of your little games gnaw at his head and drive him wild. It was how Jason had always dealt with heartbreak and hardship because he was built of cold marble and electric stone; but despite Leo’s best efforts to follow his advice, he was Hephaestus’s son. Neither of them was exactly known for their fine handling of matters of the heart...

He had believed his inalterable strength would come back to him with Calypso. It was an endless ebb and flow between the two of you, each consoling him after the other left and tore a little piece of his heart. She had promised she’d be better — better than you, or than herself the first time around, he didn’t know, but he had believed her all the same.

But maybe what Leo had mistakenly taken for strength when he laughed himself to death with Calypso and captured her entirely with his lips, might have been solely absence. He had always had a knack for following in your steps... just like you had slipped from his embrace without a word, he had disappeared from himself imperceptibly.

Maybe he loved Calypso, truly and sincerely... but not in the way that allowed him to find himself.

Well, to hell with courage, with Jason’s heroic virtue and rectitude. Leo was realizing just then that the reason he clung so desperately to your memory was that he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet, and if it made him a coward, he accepted the fate with open arms.

“Come on, buddy,” Leo exhaled, a little shaky still. “Let’s get you patched up before sundown.”

Maybe it was a good day after all.

Or just a less-than-awful one at the very least.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing) / @lxncelot (Riordanverse)

#mywriting #riordanverse #pjo #hoo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #pjo imagine #hoo imagine #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez one-shot #leo valdez x reader #fives-cup-of-coffee

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official-weasley · 3 years ago

Text

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 4/6)

A fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

Warnings: A dragonologist being hurt by a dragon Word Count: 2,534

“Asterin, we have been at it for a week, how about we make some progress today?”

I was exhausted, standing alert, waiting to see if the dragon will calm down. Nothing, in particular, happened that would startle Asterin but she decided to roar in my face 3 times in the last 10 minutes and she even snapped at me. If I wasn’t fast enough she could’ve bitten my head off.

It’s been a week since Asterin arrived here and I am sad to say that I haven’t made any progress with her. I am disappointed – disappointed in myself. Everybody was counting on me to make her feel safe and comfortable here. Three reserves were waiting to see any progress and I didn’t do anything.

I couldn’t even get her to feel so relaxed to not dig her claws in the ground beneath her. She still roars at me – less at me than anyone else but she roars nonetheless. She scratches anyone who dares to come close to her and the second she sees me in protective gear her nostrils start smoking.

The only thing that has changed since the day of her arrival is that she eats chicken blood and brandy and thus we can see progress in her growth.

My boss understands and is patient with me. He constantly reminds me that I have all the time in the world as long as she doesn’t hurt me. I know I have to take it slow and give her time but I can’t shake the feeling it would be easier if I knew what exactly happened to her.

I wish I could find a way for her to trust me, to feel safe at least, and to start eating anything else than liquids. She is growing but not at the rate she is supposed to, to reach the correct size for her age.

Every day when I come home from work I make myself some dinner and take out blank pieces of paper and start contemplating ideas what else I could try.

I tried talking to her, singing to her. I imitated roaring and rolled on the ground. I left her completely alone for a whole day, observing her from a nearby hill but she didn’t move, being a curveball for the entire day.

I brought her different types of food – venison, chicken, boar, even a wolf. I gave her bread, all kinds of fruit and vegetables but she merely sniffed anything.

I even pretended that I was a dragon – trust me it was the most awkward thing I have ever done.

When I told Matthew of the idea he needed every muscle in his body not to start laughing. He helped me make the costume I put over my protective gear. I carefully walked to her habitat and I piqued her interest the second she saw me. Matthew got a recording of roars from the researchers and when I stopped in front of her, I turned it on so that it appeared as if I was making the sounds. Then I took out my wand and cast a few fire spells so that she could see I can breathe fire.

To my surprise, she didn’t get territorial but laid on the ground observing my every move. Matt reckoned she knew it wasn’t a real dragon. I had a feeling she was playful but it didn’t make any sense. Dragons aren’t playful around other dragons at this age – they become defensive and aggressive. I could feel she was still tense and she didn’t move – not even her tail – but she looked intrigued which was the first time after I brought her the blood and brandy the first night in the forest.

I was running out of ideas. I asked other dragonologists that have more experience with dragons, Hebridean Blacks in particular, but none of them told me anything new. They indeed are the hardest to tame but none are this afraid. Being one of the mightiest dragons, Blacks usually have little reason to be scared of anything.

I understand that she had a bad experience when she was a baby dragon and who knows how long she was alone before the MacFusty family found her. None of us knows what happened to her or who did this to her – we only have her scars to tell us the story with a lot of gaps in it.

I tried putting myself in her shoes – to imagine how scared she was all alone, what she had to endure, and how I would act if I was brought to a place like the Sanctuary. I realized that a week isn’t even close to start being comfortable after being transported across the continent.

Since Hebridean Blacks are very rarely found outside Scotland and the MacFusty clan keeps track of dragons on Hebrides Islands it’s clear that someone who doesn’t have the authority to take care of a dragon brought her there.

I was still standing in front of her waiting for anything to change but it didn’t. I know I wasn’t timed on when I make some progress with her but in a week’s time she has to go through her health check-up and since I am the only one she doesn’t seem to want to kill when she gets approached, I can’t see that happening.

“We are supposed to go see the healers so they can see if you have any broken bones and check your teeth and give you an assessment and I can’t let them do that because you get all murderous with your bites and fire.” I playfully rolled my eyes at her getting nothing but a tail movement in return.

“Do you want to eat me? Or scratch me?” I raised my eyebrows. “It would be better than just standing still,” I mumbled to myself.

Asterin didn’t react to anything I said.

“I have to be here because this is my job and you have to be here because this is your home now so how about I take a seat.”

I turned around and looked at the nearby rocks. I took out my wand and levitated one closer to me so I could sit down.

Before I could finish the spell I felt a sharp pain in the middle of my back. I gasped for air before letting out a screech. I turned around as fast as I could and saw Asterin standing right in front of me. She roared with her head toward the sky, and then looked down at me with smoking nostrils.

“Asterin, please, calm down.” I took a deep breath as the pain in my back overwhelmed my entire body. “I…I didn’t mean to hurt you…with that rock.”

I could hardly stand but I bowed my head anyway and started walking backward.

“It’s okay…I…I mean you no harm.” I blinked hard a few times, starting to see black spots.

The dragon roared again, louder this time, and lifted her paw to stomp on me.

“Protego!” I shouted.

I didn’t want to use a defensive spell on her that could hurt her. The last thing I needed was to frighten her some more.

“Asterin, please, you hurt me. Let me walk away.” I took a few more steps backward but with each one, she took another step forward.

I groaned from pain, trying to keep it together. I knew that I’m a dead man if I faint in front of her. It’s true that she was on a liquid diet but I don’t think she would mind eating a human.

“Ventus!” I cast another spell. I needed to put some distance between us without hurting her so the Wind spell seemed like the best option.

“Charles, what is going on?”

I have never been so happy to hear my boss’ voice.

“She…she attacked me when I turned my back to her.” My voice barely audible.

“I told you it was foolish not to wear any protective gear!” He barked. I could hear the panic in his voice.

I looked up and saw him take out his wand.

“No, please don’t do anything to her.”

“Are you mad, Charles? She almost killed you!”

“I must’ve done…something to trigger her. I turned my back to…her before and she has never done this.”

“We can talk about this later. I have to get you to the infirmary!” Matthew kneeled next to me and helped me get up.

I clenched my teeth from the pain that lifting my body caused me but I knew I have to endure it.

“Blimey, Charles, the cut looks really bad,” Matthew said concerned.

“I’ll be fine.” I swung my hand, wanting him to stop worrying about me.

“This has gone too far. You have to start wearing your gear when you’re with her or I am assigning her to someone else.” Matthew frowned as we started walking away from the dragon.

I could hear her roar – cry almost – as we walked away and out of her sight. I couldn’t believe that the Wind spell did the trick and made her stay put. I was sure she was going to come after me again, more determined, and try to finish me off.

The second we saw the infirmary, Matt started to shout for any of the healers to hear him. Two of them came out, saw in what state I was, and helped Matt move me inside.

“What happened?” I heard one ask.

“The new Hebridean Black clawed him on the back,” Matthew answered.

“It’s pretty deep, Matt,” the other said as they laid me on the hospital bed and cut my shirt off. “Why wasn’t he wearing any protective equipment?”

“Don’t ask.” Matt sighed. “Is he going to be okay?”

That was the last thing I heard before my body finally gave in to the pain that was only getting stronger as the healers looked at my wound. I closed my eyes and all noise around me disappeared.

When I woke up, I saw Matthew sitting in front of me. The second he saw my eyes flutter he stood up and leaned over me.

“Charles, how are you feeling?” He couldn’t contain the concern in his voice.

“I’ve been better.” I tried chuckling but my back was still in too much pain. “How long have I been out?”

“3 days. The healers barely saved you. The cut was very deep. In the middle, the claw got to one of your vertebrae. It was so bad they couldn’t use magic on you, they needed to use stitches. You’re lucky to be alive!”

“Go ahead, scold me.” I made the effort to fully open my eyes so I could see the expression on his face.

“You are going to need months to fully heal and the healers said that even though they were able to mend your wound and stitch you up, the injury will leave one nasty scar. Let that be a reminder to you that dragons aren’t Crups, Charles.” He furrowed his brows at me.

“I am sorry. I might’ve taken it too far but I am getting desperate, Matt. Nothing I do works. Every idea I come up with, flops. I don’t know what to do to help her and I can’t fail this. I can’t.” I wanted to lift my arms to bury my face in my hands but I couldn’t move them that much.

“I know you can’t, Charles. Why do you think I was so strict with you not letting you work with the higher-class dragons?”

“Because I don’t have enough experience?” I guessed.

“No. I can’t even believe you fell for that. You’re one of the most talented dragonologists here. You’re more qualified to work with the most vicious dragons in this Sanctuary than some of my men that have 20+ years experience behind them.” Matthew pursed his lips. I could see it in his eyes that he never wanted to tell me this but I guess me almost dying changed his mind.

“Then why not let me?” I wanted to know.

“Because even though your burning love for dragons comes in handy in many ways, when you are dealing with a challenge you are ready to risk everything, even your life, to get it done.” He sat back down, shaking his head.

“Okay, I admit that I went a bit overboard letting my guard down with Asterin so quickly but I have never seen such a stubborn and frightened dragon.” A look of concern creased my face.

“Charles, we can’t take the right approach if we don’t know what exactly happened to the dragon.” Matthew sighed.

“How long can’t I work?”

“I told you, at least a few months. First, we have to see if your stitches are going to be okay – we can’t risk you getting an infection. Then you have to get the stitches taken out and then maybe I can let you back to work with Hel, Lasair, and Rocker.” Matthew said with his eyes narrowed, thinking of the possibilities.

“How about I do something else when they release me from the infirmary?” I was biting my lip nervously. I wanted to ask him about this for days but I wasn’t sure if he would be up for it. Now that I am laying in front of him, barely able to move, he might just think it’s the only way.

“I’m listening.” He lifted his left eyebrow, his eyes locked with mine.

“As you said we can’t take the right approach because we don’t know what happened to her. How about I go and pay a visit to the MacFusty clan, take a look around, and ask them some questions. Maybe I can learn something that could help me with Asterin.”

“They will give you the same story they told me, Charlie. There is nothing else to find out.” Matt’s lips curved down.

“Please, just let me try. I have to try and it is less dangerous than working with her.” I grinned at him as much as I could.

“You won’t take no for an answer, will you?” He shook his head playfully. “No, I will not.”

“Fine!” He sighed. “But only when your stitches are out and the healers deem you ready for such a long journey.” “You’ve got yourself a deal, boss!”

I couldn’t believe he will allow me to do this. I trust the MacFusty family but what if they missed something? What if there is something crucial for me to know to properly approach the dragon? I know that there is a low chance of succeeding. The family is known for being huge dragon lovers and enthusiasts and I doubt they would just give up on her without trying everything that comes to mind first.

I know they were thorough with their investigation and tried their best so there is a very small chance that I will find something they couldn’t. But I have to go. I have to give it a try. I can’t give up on her. This plan simply has to work. I am determined to find something and succeed with her if it’s the last thing I ever do.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the weasleys #dragon boy #charles weasley #hebridean black #dragons #a dragon story #charie weasley hphm #dragonologist

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years ago

Text

Being Human - Chapter 23

<= Chapter 22

Summary : Snatcher is taken to a familiar room of the manor. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/74145501

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(Trigger warning for this chapter : emotional abuse and creepy situation)

HEEEEEEY NEW CHAPTER

SO. Let me put some dates here.

Sunday 4th of April 2021 : chapter 24 will be posted. Thursday 8th of April 2021 : chapter 25 (last chapter) will be posted.

Why do I wait a few days to post the last chapters ? Because I want to draw for them, and, if possible, make as many drawings I can. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter and the last two as well ! Thank you for remaining so passionate about this story since its beginning, it means a lot to me !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 23 : “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”

-“There we are,” sing-sang the Queen, opening the door leading to the nursery. To Snatcher’s horror, while the room was still relatively damaged, mostly with claw marks on the walls, it remained recognizable. The sight was enough to give him flashbacks of the time they had commissioned this room, of the time they had entered it the first time after it was completed- The former ghost could remember it like it was yesterday: the couple had been so happy, staying in the room for a good hour, imagining how their child would be like, how they wanted to give them as much love as possible… But none of that ever happened.

Instead, the Subcon Freezing had happened, ruining all hope for Snatcher to ever have kids, ruining his dreams of having a family with the woman he loved so, so much.

And now, he was back in that cursed room, a room that was reminding him of what could have been, had things been different.

Snatcher had no choice but to rely on Vanessa so he wouldn’t put any weight on his broken ankle. No need to say this was frustrating… And extremely frightening, having to depend on the one who had mercilessly killed you. The former ghost knew he had no choice anyway and he could do nothing but clench his teeth, hoping nothing would happen. With a swift gesture, the Queen grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, soon closing the door behind them. The sudden movement made him cry out in pain as it forced his body to put weight on his injured ankle. It didn’t take long for Vanessa to notice what had happened and she quickly helped him to straighten, a sickening smile painted on her face.

-“There, there,” she cooed: “It’s okay. You know what you need ?” she then asked, completely out of the blue. A look of fear crossed his features as he heard her words. Oh, this couldn’t be good, now, could it…? The Queen remained silent after her own question and her face grew irritated, which were pretty good indicators that she was waiting for an answer from him. With this realization, the child quickly realized he had to give her a sign, anything- and so, unable to speak, he just shook his head, his whole body trembling from the pain, the fear and the cold.

Seeming satisfied with Snatcher’s reply, even if non-vocal, she smiled again and quickly picked him up without any warning. Naturally, out of surprise, the former ghost gasped and started to struggle. How could he not, when his own murderer was holding him in her arms, without any difficulty? However, it didn’t take much to convince him otherwise: Vanessa’s warning glare and the pain in his ankle from the movements were more than enough.

-“Now, now,” she sermonized him, all while carrying him to the crib. As soon as she got them both closer, he guessed her intents, and his face paled up. God, this nightmare was just becoming even worse- she was going to put him into the crib where their child should have been hundreds of years ago, should they have been born.

This was so disturbing, so creepy-…! But, apparently, Vanessa wasn’t seeing anything wrong with this. She really was taking him for a child, a child she had to care for.

This was sickening.

-“W-wait!” he interrupted her just as she was about to lower him into the pink crib, and she gave him both a confused and annoyed look.

-“What’s the matter?” she asked back, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow. Oh, this wasn’t good.

-“I’m… I’m too old to be in a cradle,” he tried, hoping this would be enough, though he couldn’t help but giggle nervously, his eyes looking away in fear they’d see anger on the Queen’s face, maybe worse. She stared at him for a moment… And soon enough, a light laughter left her lips, all trace of annoyance gone from her face, as if those had never been there in the first place.

-“Oh ho ho,” she took a deep breath as she finished laughing, sighing. Snatcher… Didn’t like that.

-“W-what…?” he wondered, his voice trembling from uncertainty and dread. Why would she laugh at something like this?

-“Oh, silly one,” she replied, an even more sickening smile painted on her ghostly lips, one that was letting him see her sharp fangs: “You need to rest, and I have the perfect bed for that. Your age doesn’t matter, does it? Cribs are for children, and you are one, don’t you?” she retorted, as if this was oh so very obvious.

Perhaps she had remained too unstable for years to remember cradles were for young infants, or toddlers. Her madness had affected her perception of reality, so much that she couldn’t see the problem here- or maybe she did, though in that case, why would she care? She had murdered him centuries ago, she wouldn’t feel guilty about forcing a kid into a crib!

And, well, it wasn’t like he could struggle more, seeing his injured ankle. After all, not only did this hurt, but this was also a very good warning of what could happen to him should he resist more. All of his instincts were crystal clear: “wait for the right opportunity”, they instructed him. And so, as the Queen lowered him into the cradle, Snatcher did his best not to cringe at the thought and didn’t resist. Once done, Vanessa stepped back and looked at him with a twisted fondness, one that made Snatcher want to throw up. Though he knew better and stayed still and silent.

-“Aaaw, look at you!” the Queen cooed, as if this was the cutest thing she had even seen in years- which was probably the case, in hindsight: “See, you fit just right!” At this remark, the young Prince examined the crib. Yeah, sure, he could fit while sitting- but lying down? This was another story. With the body of a twelve years old kid, or around that age, it was obvious this was the worst choice ever for a bed.

Although… Although this was much, much better than being put in Vanessa’s, he just realized. A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Yeah… Yeah, the cradle wasn’t so bad in comparison.

Snatcher’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard a clap of hands next to him- and unsurprisingly, it was her.

-“Good!” she spoke again: “Now that you’re ready to rest, I’ll bake some cookies!” She started to walk to the door and the former shade felt relieved at the idea of her leaving him alone- but just before exiting the room, she stopped and turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips:

-“Stay in the bed and sleep, alright?” she told him, and Snatcher had no trouble to detect that this was not a suggestion: “I don’t want anyone running around here. Otherwise, there will be consequence. Have I made myself clear… Uh…” she stopped for a moment, thinking, before tilting her head to the side: “Wait, what is your name? I don’t think I asked you before, did I?”

Oh. Oh crap. He obviously couldn’t give her his old name, this was the worst possible thing to do- but what other name could he use? Obviously, if he took too much time to decide, she would know… And yet, no words could leave his mouth.

Snatcher was simply paralyzed. At no time he had expected her to ask about his name- but how could he not think of anything like this?

-“Well?” she urged him, getting suspicious. Oh no, oh no, he had to find something, quick…!

-“Lu...” he tried, hoping he’d find a name close to his old one, something that would easily evoke close forms of the name “Lukas”, he lacked too much time to think more. But nothing was coming in his mind: “Lu…!”

The Queen frowned, confused.

-“Lulu?” she repeated, as a confirmation she had understood. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over him, though he did his best to hide it as much as he could.

-“Y-yes,” he nodded weakly, with a trembling smile: “That’s… That’s my name, yes,” he lied, trying so hard to keep his “happy mask” on. As a response, Vanessa stared at him, as if she were watching for any sign of lie in his words, in his expression. Snatcher hands were becoming clammy from how dreadful this whole situation was, his heart was beating loud and fast in his chest, he was doing his best to keep his breathing under control, no matter how difficult this was… And, finally…!

-“This is such a cute name!” exclaimed Vanessa with glee, clasping her hands once more: “Well, Lulu. I hope I can trust you, right?” Another warning, one that was even more obvious than the last one. The former ghost forced himself to smile again, despite how insincere it must have looked- but perhaps Vanessa was too unstable to see it, or so he hoped.

-“Of… Of course!” he lied again, with a nod: “I’ll just… Sleep and wait for you to come back,” he assured, hoping this would suffice. And fortunately…

-“Perfect!” her face lightened up, yet Snatcher couldn’t tell if she was fully convinced. In any case, she grabbed the door handle and waved at him affectionately, like a mother would do to her child. This was… Extremely upsetting, given the circumstances. Still, the child merely forced another smile… And let out a huge sigh of relief as the Queen finally left the room.

Gods, this had been much, much more terrorizing than anything he could have potentially imagined.

Doing everything he could to remain silent, the young Prince listened closely to her steps slowly getting away, and waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. When he was sure she was definitely far away from this room, Snatcher tried to straighten up, only to be cut short by the acute pain on his ankle. Oh yeah.

There was this problem too.

The former ghost winced and frowned. What could he do for that? He couldn’t possibly escape with such an injury… Not only would it hurt, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move discreetly. With Vanessa being in the room under this one… Oh, yes, she would definitely hear him. Then what? It wasn’t like he could miraculously heal that ankle-

However, his body froze as a stroke of genius burst in his mind. Maybe, just, maybe this could work… Frowning and wincing in advance, not really sure if this would succeed… Snatcher moved his hands to his broken ankle and closed his eyes, focusing.

He had learnt healing magic in his past life… Now, it was just a matter of hoping this small and frail body would allow him to use it. And so, the former ghost tried to find the small spark of magic he still had under this form. Breathing in and out, it was like trying to find something that was now hidden in the depth of his mind, something that felt so familiar and yet so foreign.

“Come on…” he urged himself, feeling himself getting closer and closer to that feeling he was trying so hard to find. Healing magic wasn’t as easy as fire one for him, one of the main reasons being that his mother’s family had been gifted with the power of fire. Summoning flames was thus easier for him- healing magic, though? This was a complete new story. While fire had been easy to learn at the time, him being a natural at it, the other types of magic had to be learnt the traditional way, with teachers, a lot of reading and study times, and getting familiarized with the elements you were learning.

Of course, in his situation, Snatcher couldn’t really use any of those things. All he could do was trying to focus… And soon enough, he began to feel tingles at the tips of his fingers. Yes, this is what he had been looking for! A small smile of victory spread on his lips, but he did his best to remain focused. In the meantime, the child could feel his injured ankle becoming number and number to the pain, and maybe… Bones shifting around a bit, though it was more uncomfortable than actually painful. This was working, this was working, he knew it, he knew he could-!

And suddenly, Snatcher felt like he lost all grasp on his magic. Shocked, the former shade opened his eyes, the tingling sensation in his fingertips quickly disappearing as if it had never been there at all. Why? Confusion spread onto his features and he looked at his hands, almost hoping he’d see what went wrong. But everything seemed normal.

And in fact, it was, thinking about it. The fact that he had been able to summon healing magic when he was in a body inexperienced with it… Was already quite an achievement, and it made sense it wouldn’t last, that this would be too unstable for that.

The former ghost tentatively moved his ankle, already wincing in advance in fear of how much it would hurt- but it wasn’t as painful as he had first thought. He slowly and carefully palpated his skin, trying to feel what had changed. Sure, touching it hurt, however… However, he was almost sure that his bones weren’t broken anymore.

He had managed to heal the biggest part of his injury. A long sigh of relief left his lips: things were… Going really well. But Snatcher was far from being over with this, oh, very, very far. He still had to escape this cursed place.

As silently as he could, Snatcher straightened up and hopped over the guardrail of the crib. His feet met the floor with a muffled sound, which was enough to scare him: had Vanessa heard anything? The sudden pressure on his ankle made his face tensed greatly though he managed to contain the urge to whine in pain.

This body was definitely one of a child… But to the former shade, he was sure that his mind had been altered to a degree, and this was not something he liked. He had to find the kids and Moonjumper, making sure they were alive, that he had managed to save them… And have the brats returning him to his adult for- no, his spirit form. Yes, that was what he wanted, and for a moment, he felt confused as to why this hadn’t been the first thing popping in his mind.

What was happening to him…?

The child forced his mind to focus back on reality: this wasn’t the time for questions. Who knew how much time he had before Vanessa decided to check up on him? If he had to try something, without getting caught, this was literally now or never. Waiting was dangerous, especially if his friends needed him- it was really cold outside, freezing even… Would he even get there on time? He was pretty far away, especially on foot…

“No,” he tried to reassure himself: “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”

Determination was now fueling inside of him, almost making him forget the pain in his ankle and how low the temperatures were in the manor. He himself was also on a time limit: his fragile body would become less efficient the colder it would get- Snatcher couldn’t lose any more time.

Slowly, silently, the child moved to the door and slightly opened it. Good, it hadn’t been locked, and he couldn’t hear anything coming closer, whether it was a voice or steps. Another sigh of relief left his lips, and after hesitating a bit… The young Prince took a deep breath and moved forward, entering the hallway with a mix of apprehension, fear, and resolve.

He was going to leave this manor and find his friends again.

This was a promise.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT

I hope you liked this chapter, I can't wait to show you the ending of this fanfiction ! Thank you so much for following me this far, and I hope you'll be there for my next fanfic too ! (I already have an idea of the story, so now it's a matter of making it better and actually writing it).

See you next Sunday !

=> Chapter 24

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xfandomwritingsx · 4 years ago

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Hold Your Breath – Draco Malfoy - Prologue

-gif source unknown-

Description: After decisions put you on opposite side of the war, returning to Hogwarts to finish your education proves to be challenging. Maybe closure isn’t the only thing you need from Draco.

Warnings/Labels: Non-Slytherin Reader. Reader has the Dark Mark. Angst. Warnings for the series will include: More angst. Enemies to lovers. A slow to medium burn. Smut.

Approx. Word Count: 1,000

A/N: Okay look, I’m BAD with the canon timeline. So just… suspend your disbelief with me, if you could, for anything that doesn’t add up timeline-wise.

Series Masterpost

June 1997

The sky is practically black. The torches from the castle that used to give you such a pleasing and safe sensation just feel ominous and taunting. The unusually chill air nips at your face as you wait for him under the tree. Having not brought a sweater, every part of you is cold with the exception of your arm that still burns just slightly after the Dark Mark was singed into your skin. You focus on the cold parts of you.

Cold is a welcome change. It doesn’t resemble sweat peppering your skin as you sit in a hard chair, nerves jittering through you and just hoping He doesn’t look your way. Cold doesn’t remind you of how you keep waking up in the middle of the night, skin burning from nightmares or how your face heats red when you cry. Cold is good.

The only warmth you’ve enjoyed in the last months was Draco’s touch just a few nights ago. The night that in moments of both weakness and strength, you confided in one another and fell into bed together. You succumbed to passion and pleasure which brought a euphoria that felt sinful for just existing. It was that night that lead you here, standing in the cold, on the edge of change.

Draco comes up the hill in a dark coat, pink cheeks, and wearing a somber expression. It’s the only expression he wears most days now and you hate it. You never thought you’d long to see him sneer or roll his eyes like he did so frequently when you were younger, but you would give almost anything for it now. You want your friend back just as much as you want your innocence back.

Draco doesn’t say anything as he comes up to you, takes your cold hands in his, and rests his forehead on yours. Both of you take a moment to just breathe, to feel the other and try to release the tension your bodies have been holding. It doesn’t work, but it’s a nice little reprieve to pretend it does.

“What did you need?” he asks so quietly that you barely hear him. You take a deep breath, trying to suck in the courage that’s on the cusp of escaping you. The wind blows softly from behind you, sweeping through the thin cotton of your shirt and chilling your back.

“I want you to come with me.” He pulls away from you with his brow wrinkled in confusion. “You and I both know what’s about to happen.” There’s war brewing in the shadows and the electricity of it is palpable. “I’m not going to be my parents. I’m not joining Him.” You’re surprised with how firm your words sound. You’d only ever said them in your head until now. You look up at Draco and the furrow is replaced with wide eyes and the threat of fear. “Ginny’s family has offered to let me stay with them.” His eyes squint again.

“The girl Weasel?” His disgust is clear and your shoulders lower in defeat. You shouldn’t have expected a different response.

“Draco,” you scold him softly. “They’re nice people, good people, and they’re willing to hide us, keep us safe.”

“Us?” He pulls away a little farther, but you squeeze his hands and lean in, holding him close to you. “Did you tell them about me?” The fear raises in his voice and you shake your head violently. “Did you tell them about my assignment?” You have to pull on his hands to keep him from stepping away.

“No!” you shout above his worries. “I wouldn’t do that.” There’s a part of you that wants to feel offended he’d think that, but you can’t blame him for being over cautious. “I just mentioned me, but I know they’d let you in too.” You lean in again, seeking that warmth he’d given you before. “Come with me,” you beg. You truly believe he will, can practically feel it in your bones. After the other night, after pouring your hearts out to one another in the ways that you did, you know he doesn’t want to do the things he’s being forced to do. You can run away together. You can find happiness.

“No.” And just like that, all the hope you have inside of you shatters to pieces.

“What?” You think you must have misheard him. Fear starts to fill you. That panicked heat you dread so much fills in your belly and spreads up to your chest as you desperately try to hang onto those broken pieces of hope.

“I can’t go.” He lets go of your hands with a forceful shake and when you try to reach out for them again, he steps away from you. “How could you think that’s a good idea?” You cross your arms over your middle and shrink back as he continues to hiss angrily at you. “Do you have any idea what He’d do?”

“We’d be safe,” you try to convince him, suddenly feeling small, like a scolded child.

“There’s no such thing.” His cold eyes look you up and down once before huffing out a breath of air in repulsion that makes your blood boil. Without saying anything more, he turns to walk away.

You can’t go back now. With or without him, you know you have to leave. You can’t be on the wrong side of history any longer. You’re not even sure you’d survive it if you were.

“I’m going!” you yell at him. He stops his retreat and looks over his shoulder at you. His eyes don’t meet yours.

“Go then.” His words are soft as if it hurts him to say it. Tears brim up in your eyes and when he finally looks at your face, there’s just one moment where you think he might give in and come back to you.

But he doesn’t. He just leaves you.

~~~

I just got myself into another long haul story. Hopefully you’re ready to ride with me! If so, let me know with likes, comments, and reblogs! If you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/writerashley

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#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years ago

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mad woman

part of my folklore series

Summary: Kurt is concerned that Santana has lost her voice; Blaine helps her get it back.

Notes: I really feel that this song embodies Santana. I can’t explain it but it just reminds me so much of her. HAPPY 1 YEAR OF FOLKLORE!!!!!

AO3

Anytime he heard Santana singing in the shower, Kurt wondered why she gave up performing. Sure, she had the Spotlight Diner shifts but she was seldom a soloist. More likely, Santana opted to be backup vocals unless she was feuding with Rachel that day. It was like glee all over again. Her voice silenced or drowned out by the attention seekers. She didn’t fight for it as she had during her short-lived time as a member of the Treble Tones. Hell, she wasn’t into the music as much as Elliott and Dani were when One Tree Hill had been a quintet.

Kurt was worried about her. Though she’d deny it, Santana loved to sing. She needed glee just as much as the rest of them. The problem was since she moved to New York it was like she lost her voice.

He remembers feeling like that when he first arrived. Without NYADA, Kurt was another drop in the huge sea of city folk. No longer did he stand out for his bold fashion choices or being gay. Here, the things that once made him eccentric were just another thing people tried to ignore as they went about their days. No one in the city had time to pick on or compliment a newcomer from a small town in Ohio.

At first, Kurt liked it because the fear of being beaten for being himself had completely vanished within a few weeks of moving. That was all behind him. Way back in Lima. After a few months, the novelty wore off. He actually started to miss the stares from his classmates at McKinley High.

He hated to admit it but Rachel may have been right when she said they were similar. Sometimes, Kurt felt like Tinkerbell too. He needed applause to live. Craved the attention. Then, he got it at the Winter Showcase. Madame Tibideaux handed the limelight to him on a silver platter. The entirety of the NYADA staff got to hear him sing.

Of course, he could’ve thrown up because he was so nervous and completely unprepared. Yet, it had been exhilarating. That rush of being on stage with a captive audience. Combined with his attendance to NYADA being on the line, Kurt hadn’t felt this energized since he last saw Blaine in person.

None of that seemed to faze Santana Lopez.

Honestly, after pulling her into the band and having her quit, recommending the evening dance classes at NYADA, and taking her out to Callbacks on weekends, Kurt was out of ideas. She refused to get on stage. But he saw that small smile on her face when she hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening. No matter how vehemently she denied it, she missed singing. So, Kurt called Blaine.

“I don’t know, Kurt, it’s kinda hard to help when I’m not seeing the situation for myself.” Blaine sighs, likely bummed he can’t solve this.

Kurt practically saw him pouting through the phone. Thank god, they weren’t on Skype. He hated seeing his boyfriend looking so defeated when he wasn’t there in person to kiss the top of his head.

Blaine had become the self-proclaimed advice-giver of the New Directions since he transferred.

He helped Mike Chang fix his relationship with Tina when they had a week-long fight about only eating at Asian restaurants on their date nights. Tina had been pissed. No simple apology was going to cut it. Blaine single-handedly compiled a list of Tina’s favorite places to eat and added a few of his personal favorite date night places.

When Finn would forget special dates and Rachel got fussy about how Finn never uses the couple calendars she made for them, Blaine stepped in and helped him set up a reminder alert on his phone.

And there was that whole fiasco about Miss Pillsbury not-so-subtly hinting that she wanted to get engaged. Blaine was able to straighten Mr. Schue out pretty quickly that day. For the life of him, that man didn’t understand why Miss Pillsbury was acting so weird.

“You don’t have to be so roundabout, you know?” Kurt told him.

“Huh.” Playing dumb, typical.

“Just come up to the city, Blaine,” he said. “I know you want to ask.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, boyfriend of mine,” Blaine huffed. “I have zero ulterior motives while being completely unhelpful to your current predicament.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure that’s the case. I’ll see you next week.”

“Unless Cooper can find an earlier flight!” Blaine exclaimed.

He had been using up the countless number of frequent flyer miles his older brother had racked up to make weekend trips to New York. After Cooper discovered their long-distance relationship (likely after one too many late-night calls from Blaine missing his boyfriend), he offered them to Blaine.

Blaine arrived the following Friday. McKinley had some teacher’s day so Blaine was able to hop on a morning flight. He was waiting in the loft when Kurt finished classes for the day.

“Okay, we’re going to Callbacks tonight,” Kurt said, removing his coat.

“Hello to you too,” Blaine replied, standing up from the sofa. “How are you, Blaine? How was the flight, Blaine? I missed you so much, Blaine.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and ignored his boyfriend.

“This isn’t about you, Blaine,” he said, “it’s about Santana.”

“Wow, Blaine, you look great! Aren’t those my yellow pants you’re borrowing?” Blaine crossed his arms.

“Hey!” Kurt exclaimed. “Those are my pants!”

“Yeah.” Blaine blushed. “I rolled them so they’d fit better.”

Kurt marched over to him and knocked him onto the couch. “You look hot in my clothes.”

“I look better out of them.”

Instead of verbally agreeing, Kurt unbuttoned his yellow pants. Blaine was quick to keep up removing his own shirt and attempting to pull off Kurt’s as well. However, Blaine was sitting on the couch and Kurt was kneeling between his legs. It was proving to be rather difficult a task.

“Kurt…” Blaine groaned, “come up here with me.”

“I can’t very well do what I want up there, Blaine.”

He sat up straighter. “Is this payment for not properly greeting me because I’ll take a blowjob over ‘how do you do’ any day?”

Kurt pressed his face into Blaine’s naked thigh. “So long as you aren’t accepting blowjobs from anyone but me.”

“No, I would…” Kurt licked around Blaine’s hip. “Never.”

Within seconds, Blaine’s head was fully tipped over the back of the couch and the only thing coming from his mouth were moans. He couldn’t even force the word ‘Kurt’ from his lips. When Kurt finally gave in and decided Blaine had received efficient teasing, he sucked at the tip until Blaine screamed his name.

They were quick to clean up their mess afterward, unsure of when the girls would be home. It was one thing to have sex in the living room, it was a whole other to get caught. Though, Kurt figured Rachel owned him after Brody paraded around naked for the few months they dated.

“Okay, now that we’ve defiled Santana’s bed, can we focus on helping her?”

“Step one, don’t tell her about this,” Blaine suggested.

Kurt slapped Blaine’s chest.

“Ow.”

“Be helpful. You said if you were in New York, you’d be able to help better. So do it.”

“FIne,” Blaine replied, “no Callbacks. I have a better idea.”

Turns out that idea was a speciality club night of Alternative Tunes.

“It’s open mic. There’s gonna be singers, poets, magicians, and I heard their harpist is opening tonight,” Blaine explained, as they waited in line.

“Is that why she brought your violin?” Rachel questioned.

“Yup!” Blaine held up his black case. “I haven’t played to an audience of more than one in a while.”

Kurt smiled at him. He loved when Blaine performed just for him almost as much as he enjoyed watching Blaine in front of an audience. Something about his face just lit up on stage. The same way Santana’s did in front of a microphone.

“As much as I love talking about violins…” She rolled her eyes, “is there alcohol at this place?” Santana asked, “because that’s like 90% the point of going out.”

“Yes, there’s alcohol,” Kurt confirmed.

He told Blaine they’d need at least two drinks into Santana before they brought up performing to her. Which proved true. After nursing two long island ice teas, Santana was finally talking to Blaine about being on stage. He hadn’t gone up yet and she was teasing him.

“Come on, you brought your own instrument and everything,” she said. “Give us a show and tell.”

With that, Blaine stood up and walked to the stage. No one was in line so he went right up after the juggler finished. He tapped the microphone and introduced himself.

“I’d like to dedicate this first one to my boyfriend.”

He mouthed an “I love you” towards Kurt, who blew a kiss back.

Then, he was lost in the strings. The next song he did was for Santana. Blaine didn’t announce it or anything but he watched her face when he could during the progression of the song. When he finished his set, Blaine thanked the audience. Kurt whistled and clapped, Rachel was jumping up and down while screaming for an encore, and when Blaine was back at the table Santana offered to buy him a drink.

Without Kurt even realizing it, the next performer on stage was Santana. Just her. She didn’t introduce herself as Blaine did, the piano music just started to play and then she was singing.

“What do you sing on your drive home?

Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn?

Does she smile?

Or does she mouth, ‘Fuck you forever’?”

Kurt couldn’t say why exactly but the song suited her well. Santana was always one to command an audience when she soloed. Soft instrumental with harsher lyrics was always her style.

While Santana had the audience and Kurt captivated, Blaine bounced back over to their table. He had two drinks in his hand.

“For you,” he said, passing Kurt a mojito.

In return, Kurt pecked his check. He really was so lucky. Then, his full attention went back to the stage.

“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy

What about that?

And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

And there's nothing like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that”

As Santana finished her song, Kurt and Rachel turned to Blaine, who was positively beaming. He’d done exactly what he had told Kurt he could do.

“How?” Rachel asked.

“I’m a smooth talker,” Blaine said with a smirk.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

If anything, his boyfriend was a clumsy mess. Romantic and adorable? Yes. Tripped over his words? Constantly.

“Come on, Blaine, give it up,” Kurt said.

“Magicians never reveal their secrets.”

Rachel huffed. She had a glint in her eyes suggesting she wasn’t giving up. Rachel rarely did when she really wanted something. Kurt had a theory that she could pester anyone enough to get what she wanted. Example A, a ticket to NYADA by tracking down the head of admissions and inviting her to Chicago to watch a show choir competition.

Before Kurt could tell Rachel to drop it, Santana returned. She had a new drink in her hand.

“Compliments of the lady in red,” she told them.

“Excellent song choice,” Kurt said.

“Blaine’s idea.” she shrugged, sipping her drink.

Blaine was still beaming.

“It’s perfect for her, isn’t it?” Blaine replied, “When I first heard it I knew I had to hear Santana do a cover of it.”

Santana winked at him from across the table.

“What is going on with you two?” Rachel asked. “The devil incarnate and the sun from teletubbies should not get along this well.”

Santana shrugged. “He’s besties with Britt.”

“It’s true.” Blaine nodded. “She even called us the Sunshine Twins.”

Kurt’s eyes drift to Blaine’s—his—yellow pants. “Yeah, that fits.”

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #my fics #folklore series

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