#but the pipe dreams are CONSTANT!! he's ALWAYS stopping me in my tracks to talk about improving the laundry!!

[ppersonna]

the landlord - myg | m

↳ summary- your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave.  good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 4.3k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- smut, light crack, PWP

↳ warnings- basically the plot of a porn, theres no plot, the plot doesn’t make sense, seduction, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, fun laughing giggly time during sex, honestly yoongi is great and i love him, maybe exhibitionism if u squint ???, cum sharing, finger sucking, motorboating

↳ a/n- did i just write basically the plotline of a bad porno? yes.  did i love it? also yes.  this was lowkey inspired by my own landlord coming over to my place (that i DIDNT SLEEP WITH) and i answered the door in a state of undress :/ i hate myself lol.  anywwayyss! enjoy yoongi the landlord!  pls feel free to interact with me because i need constant attention uwu

The inside of your apartment feels hotter than the blazing sun outside.  Your air conditioner chose the worst week to fritz on you. A record-breaking heat wave.

Nothing helps.  You open windows, blow fans, sit in front of your fridge, take cold showers. All just momentary bliss that ends too soon.

It finally breaks you and you muster up the courage to text your landlord, Yoongi.  

You inhale a deep breath as you click on the name. Min Yoongi, landlord.  Your eyes flutter shut for a moment without realizing.

Your landlord who lives in the same building as you is likely the hottest and most attractive man you’ve ever met. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on the man. Every month, paying rent was torture. You wanted to fling your legs open to him and request he takes his payment another way.

But you never did. He always remained cool and expressionless and it was hard to get a read on the man, let alone see if he’s interested.

Your fingers slide across the keys, nibbling at your lip as you decide what to say.

[to: yoongi] hi! sorry to bother you but my ac appears to have died and im afraid ill be next at the rate of his heat wave 😩 no rush but id appreciate help!

Perfect. Simple, slightly cutesy. Emoji to express how chill you are.

Your phone vibrates almost instantly and a smile curves on your face.

[to: me] oh no, we can’t have that. haunted apartments are hard to rent out 😉 im out until late tonight but i can stop by first thing in the morning if that’s cool?

A flirty line? Is this… working?

[to: yoongi] tomorrow is great! and don’t worry, if i die i won’t haunt this apartment, i’ll haunt yours 😌

[to: me] see you tomorrow, poltergeist 👻

You’re leaping through the air at the idea of the hot landlord semi-flirting with you over text when you notice your apartment. It’s disgusting. Your face burns red and you instantly work on the space before Yoongi comes over. He can't see you like this.

Sleep is out of the question. After your ravage cleaning and polishing and organizing, you’ve worked up more than a sweat.  A cold shower helps for a moment but you end up lying in bed feeling slightly wet and very, very hot. The humidity is draining.

You change into an outfit of a crop top and g-string panties. You aim the 3 fans in your room to point around your bed for direct wind contact. It helps, somewhat.

Sleep finally comes as dawn breaks. It’s cooled off enough that the ambient air around you is finally tolerable.  Exhaustion overwhelms you, and you pass out, hard. Finally.

You’re broken from your exquisite dream of being nailed by your landlord when a loud knock wakes you up. It’s disorienting. You’re so tired you’re not even sure where you are at the moment, let alone who is at the door.  The knock sounds again and you scurry to turn off the loud fans and book it to the door.

The door swings open and reveals your landlord, Yoongi.

“Oh, hi!” You’re excited to see him, for reasons beyond fixing your air conditioning.

Yoongi steps in and looks like he’s about to speak but opens his mouth and remains silent. His cheeks tingle a light shade of pink and he’s staring at your body.  Did you drool all over yourself all night or something? What was he staring—

Oh god.

You glance down at your body.  The crop top you hastily changed into in the middle of the night hits you a little lower than where your breasts end. The G string is non-existent. It covers almost nothing, which is why you opted for it last night in your desire to get cooled off.

You take a step back from the sexy landlord still gaping at you and shyly cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sorry, I—it was hot,” you mutter. “I’ll go change.”

Yoongi licks his lips, then snaps his eyes up to you and finds his voice. “It’s fine. It’s your home,” he swallows. “It’s hot in here, so stay comfortable. Don’t want to overheat you.”

His eyes stare down yours intensely. It feels like your veins sizzle, and it’s not related to the scorching temperature of your studio apartment.

He breaks the contact first and heads towards the panel in the wall where the inner workings of the air conditioner hide.

You wait in your kitchen, enjoying the natural shadow and shade from no windows and a spot to hide from Yoongi.

What if he thought badly about you?  What if he doesn’t find you attractive and thinks of this as a ploy to get him to lower your rent or something?  How could you recover from this?  Would it ever go back to being the same?

You’re anxiously tapping your fingers on the kitchen countertop, listening intently as the landlord fiddles with pipes and belts and mutters under his breath every so often.  Eventually, you hear a soft ‘aha’ and your air con kicks right on.   You think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.   Instantly you feel the machine push out air. It’s lukewarm now from disuse, but soon it will be frigid cold.  You stand in front of the breeze and bask, arms open to let the wind blow through you.

Yoongi clears his throat, and it startles you, making you realize you’re standing in your house nearly naked, ass cheeks out on display, under-boob surely peeking out to say hi. Your face burns and it makes him chuckle as you jump and attempt to cover yourself somehow.

“How long was I standing there?” You ask quietly.

Yoongi can’t wipe the amused smirk on his face. “A few minutes,” he shrugs. “Glad it’s working now for you.”

The air rapidly cools as the machine continuously pumps out colder and colder air.

“Thank god. I owe you,” you sigh.

“Nah, that’s what rent pays for,” he smiles.

He makes his move to leave you alone, and you recognize this is it. This is your chance. You can ask him to fuck the shit out of you now. If he declines, well, the first of the month would start being more awkward. But if he accepts… it’s too blissful to imagine.

You grab at his arm as he walks past you.  He stops in his tracks, and his eyes travel to where your hands meet his skin.

“I’m serious,” you attempt to sound as confident as you can. “I owe you.”

He arches a brow at you and turns completely to face you. Your hands hover at the hem of your tiny shirt, lifting a sliver to give him a glance of the bottom of a rounded globe.

“Let me repay you somehow?” you ask.

A smirk lifts at one side of his lips. “You think that will cover the cost?”

Your cheeks heat and you pull the shirt up higher, determined to get him in your bed or die trying.

“I’m hoping.”

Yoongi’s eyes zero in on your tits. Rounded and full, nipples prickling in the fresh and rapidly cooling air.  He contemplates for a moment as he lets his eyes get their nice, long drink of you.

“Yeah, now that I think of it, that should be exact change.” He drops his bag of tools and approaches you quickly, hands cupping your head as he kisses you intensely.

He kisses you with all the fire of the heatwave outside, melting you from the inside out. You’re sure to be sweaty and clammy after you’re finished with him. He swipes his tongue over your lips, and there’s no hesitation to let him in. Your hands grip at his sides, pulling his shirt up as much as you can while trying to focus on making out with the hottest guy you’ve ever met.

He chuckles against your lips at your weak attempt to disrobe him and he reluctantly pulls a step away from you to take the shirt off. He stands there and allows you a quick look before he’s back on to you. His skin presses against your chilled nipples and the fire and ice sensation makes you shiver.

Yoongi kisses you passionately, you notice. Like a lover. It’s laced with deeper intention and you hope you’re not overthinking it. You will your brain to just shut up and enjoy. Emotions can come later.

Now, you’re the one to remove your lips from his and he pouts slightly at the loss. You smile and slide down to your knees, hands undoing the button of his tight jeans and tugging them down.

“Shit, babe, I think you may be overpaying me,” he admits. “Wasn’t that hard to fix.”

As a finger pulls down the front of his boxers to let his cock spring free, you flick a smirk up to his face.

“Then consider this my repayment for being late on rent all those months,” you state before shifting your gaze back to his hardened cock. It’s gathered pre-cum at the head and you wonder if he’s been hard and wanting since he got here and first saw you. The thought is intoxicating and spurs you on.

Your tongue licks up the slick at the tip that threatens to drip off, before it swirls around the bulbous head. Yoongi isn’t afraid to be loud, it seems. You supposed you wouldn’t be afraid if you owned the building too. Who will complain? And to who?

“Hoooooly fuck,” he gasps. “Sh—shit I might let you pay rent like this for the rest of your lease.”

You pop your mouth off and lick your lips, allowing your hand to grip his shaft and begin stroking him.

“I don’t want to pay rent this way. How about we consider it a perk?” You smile, pressing forward to kiss his tip teasingly.

“God, a girl who doesn’t want to fuck me just to take advantage of me? And she’s hot as fuck and wants to blow me for fun?” he quirks his head. “Shit, be careful or I’ll end up falling in love.”  

It makes your head spin a little and you suckle at the tip a little longer, making him keen, before you pull away again.

“Maybe that was the plan all along,” you simper, then take him in fully, letting his tip glide down your mouth to the back of your throat.  He groans loudly, and it’s the most satisfying sound. It makes you want to do this more. Every day if you could.

You get to work, sucking him in, allowing him passage to your throat, vacuuming your cheeks to add additional pressure, gliding your hands up and down the slick shaft to assist you in touching every single bit. Yoongi is thriving. He can’t believe his luck. The hottest girl in the complex, the girl he’s secretly pined over, is sucking his cock as if her life depends on it.

You’re salivating at the act now, saliva spilling out your mouth as you continue to envelop his cock quickly. You slip it out of your mouth to lean down and lick and suck at his balls, which makes him hum in absolute pleasure.  You don’t remain long—his cock is nearly pulsating with desire.  Your mouth returns to its rightful place and as you’re licking and sucking and pumping and stroking him, you maintain even and sensual eye contact with him.

You want him to know this isn’t a chore, a means to an end. You want him to know you’ve dreamt of him fucking your throat raw every night since you moved in.

Yoongi got the picture pretty quickly. His mouth drops open as he openly gapes at your work, giving him probably the best and hottest blowjob of his life.  

Your tongue swirls at the ridge of his head and Yoongi feels it snap—the tightness that holds everything back.  He fucks desperately into your throat, relishing in the feel of your gagging and moaning.  It didn’t take long until he was seeing it through to the end, pumping hot white ropes down your throat while he moaned out your name with a string of expletives.

The immoral pop noise your mouth made as you pull off his cock makes the blue-haired landlord standing above you moan.

“Fucking hell—where the fuck have you been all my life?” he sighs as he cups his hand under your chin. He beckons you back up, desperate to kiss you.  You oblige and return to standing, pressing against his body to pull him in to a dirty kiss.

“Upstairs, apparently,” you murmur.

He swipes his tongue on yours, tastes himself there, and decides he wants to taste himself on you all the time.  His hands slide down to your ass, the g string still curving down the line.  He snaps at the straps as you kiss, making you puff a laugh against his lips before pulling away.

“I’d be willing to fix your leaky faucet in the bathroom if you let me eat you out,” he offers.  

You’re tugging him towards your bed, knocking over multiple fans in the process, and flopping onto the mattress, landing on your back.

“Throw in fixing the squeaky wheel on my closet, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” you joke, spreading your legs to give him the tiniest clue of what lays between.

He sighs dramatically with a smile, “Needy tenant,” before he slips down to hover over you. He intends to kiss and lick every part of your body, starting with the tits that hypnotized him.

“Can’t believe you opened the door like that,” he chuckled as he plucked a nipple between his fingers and lightly rolled it.  “I thought I was dreaming.”

The feeling is instant, electricity sparking at the tips of your nipples and warming its way around your body, directly to your cunt.  You’re absolutely certain that by the time Min Yoongi reaches his mouth to your core, he’ll drown in it.

He moves forward and wraps his lips around the bud, allowing his hands to travel to the neglected one and to squeeze and pinch and prod.  He’s rewarded with your beautiful sighs and gasps—it’s sweeter than any song he’s ever heard.

He presses your tits together and rubs his face in the cleavage there, making you gasp and laugh at the same time.  He gazes up at you and flashes his gummy smile.

“I’ve really wanted to do that,” he admits, which makes you giggle again.

“Be my guest,” you approve.  He takes your reply and does it again for just a moment, before he’s kissing and sucking at the flesh of your breasts.  He wants to mark you, leave a piece of him for you to remember every time you see yourself.  You moan in appreciation and rub your thighs together, desperate at the ache that grows with every nip and nibble of Yoongi’s lips and teeth.

He seems to understand and trails down, kissing and sucking at your long torso, abdomen, hips.  He leaves little bruises everywhere and you want them to last forever.  You want him to mark you and claim you as his own.

His fingers slip around the thin straps of your underwear, and he tugs them right off.  He’s unable to stop the loud moan when he notices the slick that strings between them and your folds.  You’re drenched, and he marveled at how excited you were about him.

“Fuck, babe—” he sighs as he lowers his chest down to lie in front of your spread thighs.  Your center is weeping, slicked with your arousal and he can tell you’re desperate for friction, for anything.  “Look at this perfect fucking pussy.”

You whimper as you can feel his breath so close to where you need him.  

“Yoongi, please,” you whine.  “I’m so fucking horny.”

“I can tell,” he hums.  “Keep moaning my name like that and I’ll make sure you’re always horny and ready for me.”

He lowers his lips, hovering millimeters from your slit.  He holds it there as he watches your anguished face nearly burst at how close and yet how far he is, before he obliges you and presses into you.  

You gasp at the first swipe of his tongue on your clit.  He maintains a soft up and down motion on the nub and you’re already seeing stars.  He steadily increases the pressure and the speed, then spices it up by swirling his tongue around in different shapes, spelling out his name on your cunt with his tongue to remind you just who got you this fucking soaked.

Your legs falter and quiver as he slips his tongue deeper inside you, licking into your hole and nearly drinking you up.  He pulls back and devotes his attention to your clit and your moans turn from soft gasps and pleas to loud whines as he slips his fingers into your cunt and slowly fucks you, spreading you out.  He’s not small by any means, he feels he can get you ready to go.

“I want you to cum for me on my tongue,” he states, matter-of-factly.  “I want to feel you on my fingers.”

You nod, plucking at your own nipples with one hand as the other seeks purchase in his hair.  

“Can you do that for me, babe? Can you cum for me and get my hand nice and drenched?  I want to lick it off my fingers.”

His fingers get frantic and he splits his time between suckling and laving at your clit and encouraging you with illicit requests and praises.  

Yoongi continues, never letting up or even giving an inkling of a hint he’s tiring.  His hand works like a machine and he slips yet another finger inside your heat, making you arch off the bed.  He licks at your clit with just the right pressure, and he picks up the speed and it sends you tumbling towards your orgasm.  You feel the breath leave your lungs as it hits you, core and channel muscles squeezing him tight and legs shaking around his body.   Your moans echo off the small apartment walls, only drowned out by the sound of the fresh air-con still running.  

“Oh, my god Yoongi—” you pant.  “I’ve never cum so hard from oral in my life.”

He pulls his fingers from inside you as you come back down from your high and chuckles at your words.  True to his promise, he lets the slick glisten on his finger and marvels at it, before he’s popping the fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“You taste so fucking good,” he compliments, and it makes your chest tighten and tips of your ears turn red.  “Fuck, I could eat you every fucking day.”

You smirk, still sensitive but feeling the desperate ache inside you needy for him and his thick cock.  Your legs spread open as he lays between them and you’re wiggling your hips to get his attention.

“I’m sure we could arrange something in my lease for that,” you tease.  “I could suck your cock hourly, honestly.”

He groans as he sits up between your legs, cock resting heavily on top of your mound.  It’s so close, so close to where you need it to be.  You appreciate the thick member as it rests and as Yoongi catches his breath.  It’s thick and long, on top of your mound the tip reaches to the tiny swell of your stomach.  You know you will not be able to walk tomorrow, that’s for sure.

“You’re telling me I could have been going down on you and been getting my dick sucked by the hottest girl on the planet this whole time and all I’ve done is give you shit about rent?”  

You stifle a laugh and spread your legs open wider.  “Looks like it.  We better make up for all that lost time, don’t you think?”

His cock is rigid, almost stone, and he agrees heartily.

“Fuck yeah, we should.  I’ve been dreaming about being inside you.”

He sounds so dirty, looks so sinful—it’s all so much and you’re almost begging for him to take you.

He reaches down to the pants on the floor that dropped and shimmies a condom out of his wallet.  You send him a look that he silences with a roll of his eyes.

“Every dude has one, chill,” he mumbles. “I haven’t gotten laid in like a year and a half.”  He pales as he realizes what he just said. “Not that it matters.  Or that I care. Or that you care—christ can we fuck now please?” He asks as he rolls the rubber onto his stiff cock.

You’re laughing a bit, not at him but with him, and you lean up on your elbows to kiss his lips.  “If it makes it better, I haven’t gotten laid in 3 years so I’m the loser by comparison,” you assure.

He wants to ask you how the fuck you haven’t gotten laid in that long because you’re the hottest god damn person he thinks he’s ever seen, but he realizes he doesn’t care and that it works out in his favor because Yoongi doesn’t like competition.

“Looks like the landlord needs to fix yet another problem of yours,” he winks as he lines himself up.  You lean back onto the pillows and sigh as you feel the touch of his head right at the opening of your slit.

In one slow motion, he slides himself to the hilt. It’s tight, so fucking tight even after one orgasm, and Yoongi nearly hollers at the feel.  He’s sure his eyes are rolling back in his head.  It’s warm and tight and wet and even through a condom he’s in absolute bliss.  He’s hoping one day he can try it without—fuck you raw and stuff you full of his cum.  

He’s still inside you, and after a moment to breathe and adjust to the thick girth of him, you’re whining.  “Yoongi, fuck me, I need you so fucking bad.”

A feral groan leaves his lips, and he’s off, beginning a pace that has him hoarse from moaning in no time.  He’s never felt so good inside a cunt before, never understood how some men could do crazy shit for ‘magic pussy’, but now he gets it—he realizes he’d probably do some dumb things for a chance to be inside you again.

“Oh, yeah—” you whine. “S-shit, you’re so fucking big, Yoongi.  Fuck me nice and deep.”

“Mmm, yeah? You want me to bruise your cervix? Want me to make this cunt remember my fucking cock?”  He thrusts harder, pushing into you with diligent speed and intensity.  “Gonna make sure you can never cum from another cock again, only mine.”

You’re losing your breath with how hard he’s fucking into you, both your moans and pants coming out in quick little bursts between his thrusts.

“Y-y-yes! Yo-o-ongi! Right there!”  He hits a spot that feels so good, and you feel the pull towards orgasm tighten.

“God—you feel so. fucking. good.” he emphasizes with a thrust. “Need to feed your tiny pussy my dick every day, hm?  Needy little cunt needs my thick cock.”

Tears form in your eyes.  The depths he reaches inside you nearly scrambles your brains—you forget everything that isn’t Yoongi and his perfect thickness spearing inside you.

“Yoongi! Gonna c-cum!”

He goes harder, becomes rabid for your second orgasm and wants to feel the way you squeezed his fingers on his cock, knowing the channel will feel even impossibly tighter.

“That’s right, good girl,” he praises while he maintains a punishing pace.  “Let me see you cum on this cock, baby, wanna see that pretty little pussy all creamy for me.”

His thumb rubs at your clit, moving it in circular motions, and diverts his eyesight between watching your full tits bounce and your lips open and close in pure bliss.  You’re the definition of fucked out and Yoongi feels a surge of testosterone at the sight—knowing he was responsible.

“O-oh! Th-there!” You’re frantic and he can tell you’re right on the edge.  He goes even faster, deeper and harder, and it’s the final straw.  You’re catapulted off the edge and thrown headfirst into your orgasm.   As he suspected, your perfect cunt pulsates around him like a fist and he’s groaning and stuttering as it triggers his own release.  

It takes a few moments for both of you to come down, before he pulls his softening cock from within you and disposes of the condom.  You’re breathing hard, and he’s smiling at the sheen of sweat on your body.

“Good thing I got that AC fixed today, hm?” He asks as he leans over to kiss at your lips.

You grin and pull him down to lay next to you, snuggling into his body.  He holds onto you and kisses your head.  He feels a level of contentment he’s never felt before.

You break the silence. “Now, as the landlord’s girlfriend, do I get any special perks? Like you’ll throw the utilities into my rent? Free cable?”

He chuckles against your forehead. “Not a fucking chance, babe.”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Sirius finally opens up to James Potter, and he realizes a lot of things. He has decided he will go the yule ball, but the question is: with whom?

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues.

Chapter 3

Sirius kept chewing his first bite for a little longer than he was supposed to, because Remus had left the Great Hall looking apprehensive, and gruesome. He sighed through his breakfast, waiting for the day to get by. He was pushing down all the unnecessary thoughts and emotions because he didn’t want to expect anything from anyone, especially how the last night had turned out.

He had woken up with a better feeling—if he had to be honest with himself—because Remus had finally not just smiled at him but hugged him with genuine earnest and he had held him until Sirius was done crying. The memory was painfully sweet in his head. Nevertheless, he was slightly hopeful than yesterday. Remus had always tried to bring the best out of him. The tug of war in his brain about his friendship and relationship with Remus was easing out in his mind, while also clenching his heart. He took another bite of his porridge, and thought that he should stop worrying about normalcy. He realized that wanting normal with this desperation was going to make him fall in the pits of agitation. He was not able to deal with another heartache. For once, he wanted to give his heart a break.

He gulped down his bite, and he decided he was going to the same with his desires and dreams. He was going to be grateful of the things he had in life; Good friends, miles away from his abusive parents, good education, and especially, his magic. He was himself because he knew how to kindle fire by the swipe of his fingers, he could wave his wand and conjure blue stardust while walking alone in the forest, and he could conjure a patronus to keep the sadness away for a while.

His thinking cycle came to a halt when James and Peter rushed to the hall, and haphazardly began swallowing their breakfast. Sirius was so captured seeing them not uttering a word and gulping down their teas and milk in one breath.

“Merlin, Pads—could have told us—“ James was managing to breathe while munching his toasts, debauching all the manners and etiquettes of eating by spraying the breadcrumbs everywhere on the table.

“Wow, Prongs, you really know how to eat.” Sirius laughed amusingly. Both of the Marauders glared at him. And once they were done, James said that they were already five minutes late for Transfiguration. This time Sirius didn’t think of manners at all, and stumbled out his seat as the three of them raced to the classroom. The air whooshed through them as they pushed through the crowd of students and teachers who shouted things like ‘Hey! Watch it!’ and ‘5 points from Gryffindor!’

The air smelled of nostalgia as Sirius felt the adrenaline in his blood and giddiness in his stomach. The three of them were running like they used to when Filch would catch them and they would hide in the broom cupboards for hours until the course were clear, and then they would laugh like maniacs. It felt all the same to Sirius when they reached the classroom, and he was getting breathless in the most satisfying way. The doors opened, stealing everyone’s attention. Mcgonacall had her usual glare, and Sirius spotted Remus sitting with Lily, his face looked scarlet which made Sirius feel the same heating flush beneath his cheeks and neck.

“Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew, why is it always you three to be late in my class?” There was something different about Mcgonacall as her gaze is fixed at Sirius. He could swore that there was a hint of smile playing on her lips. She ordered them to take seats, and Peter sat with Mary while James with Sirius. The both of them had to keep hands on their mouths to suppress the bubbling laughter. James gave him a playful nudge, his eyes were whispering something meaningful, and Sirius felt a gush of affection for him.

The day went by with Double Transfiguration with the Slytherins, Charms with Ravenclaws, and Double History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. James and Sirius were walking to the common room to put their books and notes and then return to the dinner with the rest of Marauders.

“So, Padfoot…” James smirked at him, “I have an unbelievable news to share with you.”

“Have you finally learn not to make a fool of yourself?” Sirius got a harsh fling of James’ arm around his shoulder that he staggered in his pace, almost collapsing on the floor but James held him firmly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” James’ voice was soaked with concern, “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t know I was that harsh.”

“No, it was not harsh.” Sirius managed to say but the other didn’t seem convinced. He was getting some serious brain-fogs from the past few days, and he hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Madam Pomfrey.

“Then what was that, Sirius? What is going on? Are you not well?” Those were so many questions for Sirius to answer. He didn’t want to disrupt his day which was finally going better for the first time in forever. However with James’ big hazel eyes were staring at him like that as if they were saying hundreds of things to him he felt the urge to tell him everything—by everything meant everything.

And then they didn’t return for dinner, they were in their dorm alone with no interruption. Sirius told him how frequently he had been experiencing panic attacks, and how much tired he felt, like always, how he felt like his bones were feeble, and his muscles were aching, how he was also experiencing constant brain-fogs. And then, he also told him how he was dealing with emotional pain the most, how constantly he was thinking and trying to commit act of self-harm, and how much he was thinking how he had let the Marauders down. James listened him very carefully with full attention, nodded in the right places and shushed him when Sirius talked about how much he missed Remus. He was struggling to get louder because his voice was not cooperating with him. He was gushing out all of the emotions which were buried in the depths of him. He cried at some parts but he was calm because James’ hand was there squeezing his arm, and rubbing his back. When they were done, they fell into comfortable silence, and Sirius felt as light as a feather.

“So what was the good news?” Sirius said to break the silence.

“Uh…” James smiled weakly at him, “I asked Evans to go with to the ball as my date and she said yes.”

Sirius smiled at him genuinely, “I’m happy for you, Prongs.” He hit him with a playful punch but James didn’t respond too much. He looked sad, and it was awkward. Sirius never wanted that. They fell into another round of silence before he felt two arms wrapped from his behind, tugging there. Sirius put his hands on James’, sitting under the cloud of melancholy.

“I’m sorry, Padfoot. You were keeping a lot inside of you. I don’t like when you do that.” Sirius smiled warmly at his mildly aggressive voice, “I am your brother, and you are supposed to tell me that. And all of that. Everything, buddy. I love you, you know that right?”

“There is no reason to be a sap, Potter.” Sirius elbowed him, “But yeah, and I love you, too. Always have and always will.”

“Look, who’s a bigger sap now.”

“Okay, Evans said yes—“ Sirius pulled away to face him, but he was cut off by James in mid-sentence.

“For the ball. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

James didn’t smile. There was still something despondent about him. After a brief silence, he said, “Pads, this may sound a little weird but hear me out…” Sirius nodded, “You should ask Moony for tomorrow.”

“Oh no, no, no, no,”

“Why!?” James whined.

“’Why’? What do you mean ‘why’? Out of all people, you should not be the one to say that.”

“No, Padfoot, I should be the person to say that! You told me how he encouraged to go to the ball. I mean, why would he? Either he is trying to be your mom and asking you to have fun or he is giving signals for you to ask him to be your date for the ball!”

“Considering Remus, he was definitely being a mother-hen.” 

“Think about it, Moony doesn’t easily like someone. He never dated anyone except you because you are the one he fell in love with, you tosser!

That’s when the door swung open, revealing Remus and Peter which confused looks. Sirius felt like his heart was in his throat.

“Thought we’d find you guys here.” Peter said, throwing his satchel on his bed, “Why did you miss dinner?”

“Oh, we completely lost track of time.” Sirius said successfully because the room had started to feel small with Remus’ presence, “We should go to the kitchen, Prongs.” He was hoping he could just skip the anxiety and continue his chance of talking out with James more. He was talking after ages, and it felt lighter and easy. Suddenly, he was very grateful for having James Potter in his life.

“Oh, you know what, you stay here. Wormy and I will bring food for you.” James piped up with his stupid grin, and Sirius began to have second thoughts on being grateful of James.

“What!?” Peter retorted, “But I just came back!”

“And you could come back again, my best friend Wormy!” Sirius scowled at James who in returned gave him a thumbs-up, gesturing to talk to Remus who was putting down his books in on his nightstand. Soon, the whiny Peter and an overly-smart James were out of the dorm, leaving him and Remus alone.

Sirius was fidgeting with his fingers anxiously, gazing at Remus’ back.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Sirius thought he was completely frozen. Remus turned to face him, smiling small at him.

“Yeah…” Sirius let out a breathless chuckle, “I was just…”

Awkward silence.

“Remus, I wanted to ask you something and if you don’t think the same way, I would completely understand.” His heart was hammering in his chest. Remus nodded at him. He took a deep breath and finally the words were out, “Will you go to the ball with me as my date?”

Extremely awkward silence. Remus was opening and closing his mouth to say something but no words were audible enough as an answer to Sirius. That’s because he doesn’t have any answer, Sirius thought to himself.

“Sirius…” Remus finally said, “I can’t.”

It wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t expecting this, but it still hurt him like a dagger shot right into his heart.

“I mean…” Remus continued, scratching the back on his head or pulling his sleeve, “it’s not like I don’t want to, because I do…A lot, actually…”

His voice was turning croaky, and Sirius was able to see that it was not easy for Remus either.

“But, I already have a date.” This time it hurt more than earlier. Sirius wanted to laugh, and he did. Remus froze, looking dumbfounded. It was a strange thing that hurting not always accompany the act of shedding tears. Sirius was actually laughing at himself that he was a fool to believe, like actually believe.

“Of course, of course,” Sirius wiped the tears in the corner of his eyes, “Of course, you have a date. How can you not?” He was shaking his head, still unable to control his laugh. It was a very wrong judgment.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Chapter 4 coming soon!

[han-shinsuke]

h i n a t a s h o y o x ME (lmao 😂)

🌼♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

• i n e b r i a t e

(verb) make someone drunk.

–1–

2:30 pm [ Camp Edinburgh ]

No way. Why would I do that? I'm not that desperate to get noticed by him. No. My answer will always be 'no'. No one can change my mind. I will not risk my reputation for him. Call me coward and stupid but I don't really care at all.

“Why not, Hannah? All you have to do is to confess your feelings and all.” Rei insisted. Wow. Confess my feelings? That would be the end of me!

“You're really a coward, sensei.” Rica added.

“She's just afraid of getting wrecked by Shoyo.” What the actual fxck?! I grab my friend, Lou and gag her with the bread that I'm about to eat. For fxck’ sake! We are surrounded by other people!

“Seriously, guys? Did you bring me here just to gang up against me?” I question their true intentions after inviting me–no! They dragged me here! In this camp that I thought they organized for the four of us! “I shouldn't have trusted you guys, you're all traitors!” I said in my annoyed and on the verge of crying tone.

No matter how hard I tried to tell myself that I should stop, I always find myself looking at his direction.

Up on the hill, I am once again, a few feet away from him. Hinata Shoyo, you are the dream that haunt me during daylight.

–2–

I used to read fairy tales when I was a kid. And up until now, I still read them. In hope of finding the right one. In hope of feeling the same euphoria all over again.

Freak. That's what they called me back in high school. Freak. Because I dressed like a rat during our play. A pest who got lured by the Pied Piper of Hamelin into the Weser River. If someone will ask me which story is my favorite among the hundred of tales I've had read, I'd tell him/her that it's the story of the rat-catcher and his magic pipe.

Why? Why not Cinderella? Why not Snow White? Why not the fairy tales wherein princesses were saved by their princes?

My answers will always remain constant.

Because my heart was taken by an ordinary man.

And I have no plan of taking it back.

For I am no princess and he is no prince.

Shoyo, after all these years, I'm still into you.

–3–

“Where's Lou, Rica?” I asked my other friend. My eyes and fingers are busy doing some assessment tools on my laptop. I know. I know. I should at least let myself enjoy this temporary freedom for as long as I can but my top priority for now are my students. I must work hard.

“Probably inside a tent somewhere, banging Wakatoshi. Come on, sensei! I'd like to dance with them!” Rica pointed the bonfire in the camping site where most of the guests, including all the members of Japan National Team are dancing around it while holding a bottle of ale.

“Then join them! No one's stoping you from doing so!” I lift the disposable coffee cup from the wooden table and finish the remaining liquid mixture in one chug. Damn. I think I already reached the limit of my caffeine consumption for a day. But I want more! I still have work to do!

I signal the barista to serve me another cup and he nodded.

“What’s Rei doing there? Is he, her friend, too?” Rica asks, stopping my fingers from hitting the keys of my laptop. Again, she pointed at a specific spot. This time she's directing my eyes back to the coffee counter.

“Not sure,” I shrug my shoulders. “You know her, she's a guy magnet.” I said, smiling.

“Anyway! I need to go now! You're such a killjoy! Loosen up, Hannah!”

“Yeah, whatever.” I rolled my eyes then ushered her to join the fun in the camping ground.

For the record, I am not risking my reputation for him. I won't confess to Hinata Shoyo.

–4–

What's so funny? I keep asking this question to myself. Rei was laughing for as long as I can remember. And why is she interrogating me while I'm working? For every correct answer, a scoop of affogato will be served. That's our game arrangement. Yes. Interrogating me is just a game for her.

“You are aware you have a gene called PDSS2, right?” Woah. What was that? My vision suddenly became blurry for seconds right after she asked that question.

I press a finger on my temple and regulate my breathing. This symptom!

“I am, Rei. I could get intoxicated by caffeine and behave like a drunkard.” But that doesn't mean I am unaware of my actions.

“Want me to walk you in our tent?” Rei sounds different. Wait! Why is she treating and talking me like a weak kid?! No. No way! I feel like I'm floating! And my heart suddenly change its' rhythm. Another symptoms of caffeine intoxication!

“You tricked me!” I accused her and she just laugh again. “Kill me, Rei or else I will keep talking like an idiot and I won't stop until the caffeine in my system completely metabolized.”

“I did not tricked you, Hannah. You did this to yourself. That's what you get from being a coffee maniac.”

“I hate you, Rei.” I sighed then shutdown the laptop. “But I hate myself, too.”

“Hydrate yourself to reduce the caffeine effect.” Rei hand me a bottle of water and help me drink it, “how high?” she queried.

“So high that I feel like jumping from here and crash myself to the grassy ground.” I replied.

Rei taps the table. She's instructing me to lay my head there. I obeyed her.

“Do you still love him, right?” She asks, mirroring my condition and position. Now, we are both laying our head atop the table as we face each other.

“You know I didn't stop, Rei.”

“Then take a risk. What's stopping you from expressing your love for him?” she asks, putting her phone between our face.

“The reality, Rei! He's out of my league. So please stop forcing me to spill the beans for him.”

“Do you fear the possibilities of him rejecting you?”

“I fear everything about him. Shoyo Hinata is the perfect definition of fear for me. He made me feared love. He made me feared living this lifetime without him. You know what, Rei? Not all untold love stories deserves a chance. Not because they are unworthy of time and space. But because some of them are meant to be hidden. That's where my love for him resides. Inside a chest of secrets.”

–5–

“..... that's where my love for him resides. Inside a chest of secrets.”

This is what I hate the most after consuming high dose of caffeine in a day. I spoke things I shouldn't. And I cried in a place where I mustn't. Instead of drowning myself with unnecessary thoughts, I let my friends drag me inside the circle of people partying around the bonfire. I don't remember starting but I found myself dancing along the waves of people, along the hyper beat of the song playing in the background. I dance until my legs break. Until my throat hurts from laughing and playing along with my friends and former classmates.

Shoyo's there but made no move to approach me. I just caught him looking at me from time to time and every time our eyes met, he would give me a timid smile and a nod. If only you knew, Shoyo, I want more from you.

“Going somewhere?” I was surprised when a former Nekoma alumni went to me and start talking to me.

“Yes. Back in our tent. To sleep.” I believe his name is Kuroo Tetsurou. I stand on my feet and step backwards. I feel so dizzy.

“Mind if I come?” Did I heard him right?

“Uh, why?” I shook my head harshly. The caffeine is kicking me good in the head.

“You’re supposed to say, 'yes' babes. I’m clearly trying to get under your pants.” Woah. He's so straight forward!

“Well, uh... you are targeting a dull one, Mr. Kuroo. I'm afraid I am incapable of satisfying your needs tonight.” I smiled at him then waved goodbye.

Okay. I don't do one night stand.

I was humming my favorite song along the way when a hand grab my arm then I found myself spinning before landing on a broad and hard shoulder of a man with a very familiar hair color.

“Argh. Put me down, please. I feel so dizzy.” I am not a sack of rice so why are you carrying me like this...... Shoyo Hinata.

“I’m glad you declined, Kuroo's offer.” there's a hint of amusement in his tone while he keep moving forward.

“Are you really talking to me now, Shoyo?”

“Yeah...”

“Can you put me down? Everything is spinning. I feel so lightheaded. I might speak nonsensical things.”

He's deaf. It's confirmed. He really didn't bother putting me back on my feet.

“I think I've heard enough from you, Hannah.” Shoyo says, stopping on his tracks. He put me down but hold my forearm tightly as if I have plan of running away from him. I shook my head again. Trying to clear out the dizziness and drowsiness. “Get inside.” He pushed me down on the soft futon inside his tent and hovers above me.

His proximity is causing my heart to flutter.

“What do you mean you have heard enough from me?” I questioned. Slowly closing my eyes.

“I heard your conversations with Rei.”

“How? You weren't there.”

“She put you on the line during your talk. I heard everything.”

“Ah, that's why she put her phone between our face. That witch!”

I heard him giggle after my outburst. Then I felt his hand on my face. His fingers tracing my lips. His warm breath fanning all over my face.

“May I taste your lips?” His question send electricity throughout my body. I didn't respond. How to? In my current state, responding accordingly is not possible.

My eyes are closed and my mind is in haywire!

“My lips tastes like coffee. I had three servings of americano and four scoops of affogato.” Bravo, Hannah. I deserve a reward for my smart answer.

“I would perceive that as ‘yes’ then,” he whispered.

Don't judge me. I'm on my right mind. And I am aware of his actions. I just don't feel like stopping him when he started claiming my lips.

I dreamt of this moment once.

Would it be too much if I let my guard down tonight?

Just this once, I would like to have a taste of heaven.

“Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?” Shoyo asks, his lips trailing soft kisses along my jawline.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Marry me instead.”

“That's what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I'll taste your other parts as well.”

“Be gentle.”

“I can't. You know I can't.”

Dear Lord, give me strength to withstand the storm he would bring tonight.

–end–

[mindfulwrathwrites]

Remote Sensation

I’m sick as a dog this weekend, so if this happens to seem familiar ... just don’t worry about it, yeah?

Words: Several Warnings: None

...

At 0500, the alarm goes off. Benoit slaps at the clock and groans. He rolls out of bed and drifts through his morning routine half-awake—dress, brush teeth, comb hair, wash face, make bed, grab badge and dosimeter, make morning log entry.

Benoit Boer, Day 655, still not dead or crazy.

By 0530, he’s sitting down to breakfast and coffee downstairs. The comms screen chirps, exactly on time, and Benoit slaps that, too. Giles appears on it, yawning.

“Morning, Ben,” he says, crackly with static.

“Morning,” says Benoit. “How’s the weather up there?”

“It’s a beautiful day,” says Giles. “Chilly on the night side, but warmer on the sunny side, partly space with a chance of space.”

Benoit snorts. “And how’s my weather looking?”

“No flares, plasma events, or comets. Not a cloud in the sky and no atmosphere, either.”

“Perfect. What about the Drill?”

“Been better. We got a piece of grit or something in the percussion sleeve, it’s causing a friction anomaly. Otherwise, it’s all routine. Pumps are pumping, pipes are piping, tanks are tanking. Is that what tanks do?”

“Tanks tanking, yep, you got it,” says Benoit, smirking into his reconstituted eggs. “Do you have telemetry on the resupply yet?”

“Not yet, but we should pick it up around lunchtime. Should I let you know when we ping it?”

“Nah, just catch me up at lunchtime. I don’t want you buzzing in my ear while I’m elbow-deep in brine and oil.”

“I don’t buzz,” says Giles, offended. “And speaking of resupply, how’re yours holding up? By the numbers you’ll make it even if we lose this one, but if any of it has gone bad, we might have to work on a ration plan.”

“Looked fine when I pulled all this out. The coffee’s a little off, but it’s not mold. Plastic seepage, I think.”

“That’s not good. Those are carcinogens you’re imbibing.”

“Worth it for the caffeine, and anyways, if anything’s going to give me cancer, it’ll be the radiation. Damn space, always irradiating me.”

“It’d be preferable if nothing gave you cancer at all.”

“In a perfect world,” Benoit sighs.

“Are you feeling all right? Should I move up your next medical evaluation?”

“No, God no, move it back, if possible.”

“I really can’t. Regulations and all.”

“A man can dream. How are things up there, speaking of radiation?”

“Orbital module is ship-shape. We’re clean, stable, and prepared to adjust attitude for the resupply, once we have telemetry.”

“Wish I could adjust your attitude, heyo.”

Giles scowls at him. Benoit rolls his eyes.

“Come on, that was a good one.”

“I don’t appreciate it.”

“Buzzkill.”

“I’ll note your observation. About time to head on, Ben!”

Benoit sighs again. He slurps down the rest of his coffee, crams the rest of his eggs in his mouth, and checks his watch—0547.

“Guess so,” he says. “Which suit today?”

“Take the Three. Number One was showing some stress on the oxygen tubing and Two still has that crack in the face shield.”

“Shit, I never did fix that, did I.”

“Should I set you a reminder?”

“Oh, shut up, would you?”

Giles scowls at him again. The comms screen cuts out. Benoit smacks it.

“I didn’t mean it, you stupid—drama queen,” he mutters.

When there’s no response, he gathers up his dishes and heads on.

It takes forty minutes to get into the suit, even with Giles’s (silent) remote assistance. Then it’s a fifteen-minute bounce across a quarter-mile of rock-hard ice floes to the Drill, and the pumps, and the tanks. Galveston, Inc. didn’t screw around when it came to hardware; Benoit is completely dwarfed by the things, each the size of a building. They, in turn, are completely dwarfed by Jupiter, filling the sky like a waterfall of oil paints. It looks close enough to reach up and touch. Even after all this time, Benoit has to take a moment to just stand and stare, let the awe wash through him and fade away again before getting to work.

And the work is hard, and dirty, and cramped, even after all this time. The suit is cumbersome, the machinery is ornery, the light conditions range from dim to pitch-black. Benoit alternates between sweating to death and freezing solid, his air growing steadily more stale as he breathes it over and over again. Four hours pass in a snow-blind haze. His radio crackles in his ear, harmonic resonance with the constant electromagnetic scream pouring out of Jupiter. When he shuts his eyes, tiny flickers and flashes of light ping against his eyelids, cosmic particles zipping through his retinas like BB’s through tissue paper.

He heads back to the bio-building for lunch, and Giles, who’s finished sulking, updates him on the status of the resupply—he picked it up on sensors an hour ago, and it’s on course to arrive day after tomorrow. That brightens the day considerably, even through another six hours of back-breaking work. Giles sticks with him through the afternoon, since it’s all routine maintenance—chatters in his ear, gives him updates on windspeeds on Jupiter, auroras he’s seen, ice floe shifts and minor impacts he’s picked up nearby. They’re approaching another tidal resonance with Io and Ganymede, so it’s likely to be a bumpy weekend, although Benoit will be up in the orbiter through the whole thing. Benoit lets him talk all through the afternoon, and then through dinner as well. Giles signs off at the appropriate time, 1800 on the dot, and Benoit is left alone.

The evening routine is as well-worn as the morning one. He showers, cleans all his dishes, takes care of little maintenance issues with the bio-building and his suits. He pulls up the resupply ship’s tracking info, watches it trace its little green line through the darkness, terribly slow but right on course. He reads for half an hour about auroras on Jupiter. At 2100, he turns off the lights, lies down and tucks the covers up to his chin, nestles in. All he can see out the porthole is stars, familiar constellations washed out amidst the sea of lights. With no atmosphere or human illumination to backfill the darkness, the night sky is impossibly deep, and every drop of it brimming with billions of far-off suns. His breathing fills the room, tiny and alone, alone, alone against the vastness outside.

“Giles?” he whispers.

A light flickers on.

“Yes, Ben?”

“Can you stop logging for me?”

“Logging paused. What’s up?”

Benoit swallows down the lump in his throat, blinks the moisture from his eyes.

“I’m … really looking forward to seeing you, at resupply,” he says. “A lot.”

“Aw, Ben. I’m looking forward to seeing you, too.”

Despite the pain in his chest, Benoit smiles.

“I guess it’s not that much different for you, though. You see me all the time.”

“Sure, but you’re always happier when you’re in orbit. I like that. Oh, and while we’re not logging... You haven’t made your nightly report. I just wanted to make sure, you know, that you didn’t forget? And that you don’t forget to mention about me.”

“Oh, shit. Resume logging and repeat that reminder, if you could.”

“Resumed logging. Hey, Ben, you forgot your nightly report.”

“Shit, you’re right. Thanks for the reminder, I’ll do that now. See you in the morning, Giles.”

“See you in the morning, Ben. Sweet dreams.”

The comms screen goes dark. Benoit rolls onto his side and prods a few buttons, pulls up his reports. He dictates the same thing he says every night.

Benoit Boer, still alive and sane. Pump station and orbiter both still functional. No disasters today. GALILEO Intelligent Liaison Experiment Satellite continues to function optimally; do not reboot or debug.

With his assets thus secured, and the promise of the long-awaited resupply soaring towards him through the starry night, he settles in to sleep.

[easily-distracted-ivashkov]

Back to the Start

So I had an idea for a fanfic where Sirius gets informed of his being sent back to Grimmauld. I made a couple of minor changes so I could put Marlene into it. I might continue with this if I get enough feedback so, enjoy!

†††††††††††

It wasn't long since Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and tracked down Harry to out Peter. Harry and the rest of the trio had known about his innocence. That was all that mattered to him. However, it wasn't long until Albus Dumbledore had called for a meeting regarding where Sirius would be staying as he was still very much a wanted man on the run. He got a letter from Albus saying that they would be meeting in Dumbledore's office while all the students were asleep. Sirius had been enjoying his short lived freedom off in Hawaii where no one knew who he was, there, he was just a lazy bum who didn't have a care in the world. Again, it was very short lived. There was a war going on and Sirius needed to focus on Harry's safety, but he couldn't be back where he grew up. Not even remotely close. People from both sides wanted him dead and that was that. Despite how close Sirius wanted to be to Harry, he had to be as far away as possible from him.

Though when he got the letter from Albus, he climbed on Buckbeak who was hiding out not far from where Sirius was staying. Flying off towards Hogwarts, Sirius felt his heart panging in his chest. Albus informed him that most of the Order members would be there. He would see Marlene and Remus. He could hardly contain his excitement. He hardly had any time at all to see Marlene when he went back to Hogwarts to call out Peter and hopefully even kill him but that didn't work out the best. His heart was aching to see her again. He needed to see her, just to hold her in his arms again. The feeling he craved most in Azkaban, was finally here. Surely Albus would send Sirius someplace safe where he was comfortable? And Marlene would be there with him? He suffered enough those years in Azkaban. Maybe Albus even had information about when Sirius' name would be cleared! Surely he had been informing others about how he was innocent?

The fly back to Hogwarts seemed to feel like forever for Sirius. But seeing the castle again... All the memories flooded back to him. Last time he was here, he didn't have time for such sentimentalities. But now, flying over the place where all of his best memories were at, it was all surreal. It hit him just how much things had changed those twelve years he suffered alone in that prison cell. The castle didn't change one bit but at the same time it wasn't the place he knew. Not without his best friends. Not without them all causing mischief. Not without those late nights where Sirius and James would keep poor Remus and Peter up with their constant talking and obnoxious laughter. It wasn't the same because instead of Sirius arriving with his best friends on the Hogwarts express, he was arriving alone on a Hippogriff. Just those thoughts alone wanted to make him sob. His friends meant the world to him. They were the only family he knew. The only place where he felt he truly, wholeheartedly felt he belonged. And it was all ripped away from him within an instant.

Clearing back the large lump in his throat, Sirius shifted down into his animagus form after dismounting Buckbeak and entering the castle. Safety precautions in case there were students off wandering this late at night. The black dog trotted up the staircases until he reached Dumbledore's office. He heard talking through the door. And there seemed to be a lot of argument going on through it. He heard so many familiar voices. Mostly Marlene's voice screaming in absolute outrage. Then Remus was even piping up here and there. And even Minerva was making her shock evident in whatever they were all discussing. Bowing his head down, Sirius began whimpering and pawing at the door. The entire room went completely silent just then. Anyone would be able to hear a pin drop with how quiet it went. They all knew Sirius had finally arrived. It took a moment before someone opened the door. It was Minerva whom was to heave open the heavy door. Sirius made his way in, his body shifting up back into his human form once more. His eyes immediately caught onto Marlene's beautiful hues of blue. The eyes that he spent so long dreaming about in Azkaban.

"I see I'm still able to silence a room just with my presence." Was the first remark that came from Sirius. A small smile playing at his lips as he looked around, seeing everyone he loved so much. But nobody laughed with him. Not even a shadow of a smile from anyone. "Tough crowd today, huh?" He spoke up again. Silence was never something he was good with. It got on his nerves from the get-go. Azkaban certainly didn't help that little pet peeve of his.

"Sirius. Please, sit." Albus instructed sternly. Nodding off towards a seat across from Marlene and Remus. Just the tone of Albus' voice let Sirius knew just how severe matters were. Nodding, the pureblood did as instructed and sat down. His eyes unable to stay off of Marlene. She was so close to him. He needed her so badly. But he didn't dare touch her. For all he knew, she still thought Sirius was guilty for her family dying. He knew not to cross that line. If Marlene felt comfortable, she would reach out to him. It was Dumbledore that cleared his throat to snap Sirius out from his daydreaming over Marlene. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Black-"

"Sirius." The wizard corrected immediately. He hated his last name and despised whenever someone referred to him by it. "Call me Sirius."

Albus nodded then, "Sirius. Thank you for coming. I can't imagine how you must feel to be back here. But this is a very important matter that... We feel is in your best interest. Until your name is cleared." The headmaster explained.

"My name is going to be cleared soon... Right? You're working on it?" The pureblood responded hopefully as he peered around the room. However, judging by the shameful expressions on peoples faces and those that looked down, they weren't anywhere near clearing Sirius' name. His heart quickly dropped to his stomach just then. Albus had so much power in the Wizarding World. He could have kept Sirius out from Azkaban! He could have easily cleared Sirius' name by now! The wizard felt anger boiling up inside of him, but it was Minerva then who spoke up before Sirius could lash out.

"We are working on it as best we can, Sirius. We will get you there eventually. But patience is what we need from you right now." The elderly witch spoke out calmly. No matter how upset she was, she always maintained a certain elegance to her. She was without a doubt one of the few women that Sirius respected.

"Patience? You don't think I've been patient enough? I'VE BEEN ROTTING IN A FUCKING CELL THE PAST TWELVE YEARS, MINERVA! I have had to try avoiding getting my SOUL sucked out on a daily basis! I have been as patient as I can be! I want my freedom! I am sick of being a prisoner of my own mind! I am sick and tired of 'waiting'-"

"Sirius, right now the best step of action we can take is keeping you safe and away from everyone else. Somewhere no one can find you. We will clear your name but you must understand we all need to sacrifice in this war." Albus chimed in. His voice unnervingly calm for Sirius.

"'I HAVE SACRIFICED ENOUGH!" He screamed out. "And 'someplace where no one can find me'? Where might you think that would be, huh, Albus? Because last I checked people are at my ass left and right!"

Then, another long silence came from the room. No one wanting to be the one to respond to his question. Until Minerva sighed, going to speak up again. "We thought it be in your best interest to go back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Sirius..." The witch replied sadly.

It was then that Sirius went completely silent as well. Did he hear her right? Did she really say that? There was no way he was going back to that hellhole he grew up in. "No." He answered softly. Almost in a whisper. "Absolutely not. No. I refuse. I am not going back there. You can't make me go back there. I won't."

"Sirius-" Both Marlene and Remus spoke out at once.

"NO! I WON'T!" He screeched out, slamming his fists down on the table as he abruptly stood up from his seat. "I am not going back to there! Send me back to Azkaban! I'd rather be there than back at that place! I am NOT going back there and none of you can force me too!" He exclaimed, his voice cracking near the end of his sentence. He could already feel tears welling up in his eyes. The fear in Sirius' eyes were evident. The trauma he had endured in that horrible manor was not something he wanted to remember.

He didn't want to remember his father's wrath. He didn't want to reminisce on his mothers words that cut through him like a knife. He didn't want to remember how he got all these hideous scars on his body. He may not have gone insane while at Azkaban, but if he went back to Grimmauld, he certainly would go insane within days. Lord knows what shape that place was even in. Or what kind of spells got put on and in it since the day that Sirius left.

"Sirius, we understand that you're upset-" Remus began finally.

"NO YOU DON'T! None of you do!! If you understood then you wouldn't be sending me back to that hell! If you understood, you would work on clearing my name and not sit around on your arses all damn day!" Sirius yelled out.

It was Minerva then who placed a light hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Sirius... Please. If you won't do this for us, then do it for Harry."

Sirius' eyes softened at the mention of his godson. He then looked around at everyone in the room. No one said a thing but they were all pleading for him to stop making a scene. It wasn't good for anyone and Sirius knew there was no talking Dumbledore down from this decision. Chewing his lower lip, he couldn't help his eyes going back to Marlene. "Please don't leave me alone there-" was all he could mutter, mostly to the blonde witch.

It was then that Marlene smiled over at Sirius. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sirius." The female responded finally. Despite how much Sirius wanted to argue further, he didn't. As long as Marlene was with him and Harry was safe, that was all that really mattered.

[writing-in-riverdale]

the list | short series

a rosie original story

written by: rosie and kelly

a/n: i’ve been working on this project for almost two months now and im so excited to finally share this with you all. special shout out to my amazing friend kell aka @sweetwater-cheryl for all the support and for helpin me bring this idea to life with all the behind the scenes stuff you do! please comment if you’d like me continue this series!!

plot: following a small town girl on a journey through letter form as she attends riverdale high the summer after one of riverdale own sophomores commits suicide, leaving behind a list of rhs finest and the events leading up to the teens demise. will guilt eat them alive? find out by reading the list inspired by riverdale and 13RW.🎤💰🔪🎸✨🍒📄💔

-

y/n’s pov

it was just another friday night in the life of a teenager living in riverdale.

the almighty bulldogs had defeated the away team in over time and lead into their victory by our river vixens. the crowd went wild as the crowd scattered across the field.

so, we celebrated the only way we knew how, pop’s.

it had begun as a ritual between me and my best friend, cheryl bombshell blossom.

we’d spilt a milkshake and i’d get a burger, despite cheryl’s constant disproving tuts and glares as pop set down the greasy burger overflowing with fries.

she’d roll her eyes and sip her milkshake as she lectured me about how the beef would go straight to my ass. i’d just smile with ketchup stuck on the corner of my smile.

but tonight it wasn’t just me my burger and my best friend it was filled with all of riverdale high students, all basking in the glory of beating our stupid preppy enemies.

bringing me to where I am now, squeezed into our infamous booth with my 5 best friends.

the fiery river vixen captain cheryl blossom, super smart and kind even though she doesn’t let anyone see that side of her. she was the HBIC and everyone either feared her or wanted to be her.

the captain of the bulldogs and my second favourite redhead jason blossom, cheryl’s twin brother. he was a total player, when he wasn’t breaking up and making up with polly cooper he was exchanging saliva with half the juniors at the glorious thornhill parties

the raven haired jock that went by the name of mantle the magnificent, reggie mantle. he was a typical tough jock softened to an actual puppy by the likes of me.

the closeted jock moose, between you and him he was a bisexual and hooking up with kevin keller at sweet water river, but if anyone asks he’s dating midge.

and last and definitely least riverdales resident golden boy chuck clayton. jock and coaches son, huge player that doesn’t believe in commitment or morals for that matter.

it was just the six of us -well- seven if you count midge sitting on mosses lap with her tongue down his throat, but I don’t.

the six of us squished into the small booth all picking from each others food as they talk sports and their grand win.

“mantle you were a beast tonight!” chuck leans over me to place a punch in reggies right arm.

he moves his hand to ruffle the jocks hair, resting his arm around my frame.

“I had a lucky charm.” he winks to the group

snaking his hand down to my waist placing a kiss on my forehead, I move closer to him my hands settling on his thigh.

“okay stop you’re being too cute its gross.” moose grimaces which causes everyone to groan.

“coming from the two swapping spit.” I retort swirling my straw in my coke glass, spiked with a little jacks.

midge shifts uncomfortably on her boyfriends lap, her hair falling from her high pony.

“yeah midge, why are you still here?” cheryl pipes up leaning across the booth where the couple resides.

“cheryl.” I warn giving her a glance 

“what?” she snaps back looking from her brother to chuck then over to me.

I sigh shaking my head.

“i’ll just go.” she announces pushing herself past reggie and I to exit the booth, practically sprinting out the front door.

“and the ice queen strikes again.” my boyfriend roars the group falling into laughter besides cheryl of course.

moose stands from the booth and rushes after midge the bell dingy as he departs.

“and then there was five, y/n you still turning down my offer to ride the chuck wagon?”

I roll my eyes, my boyfriend scoffing from beside me.

“in your dreams clayton.” he retorts pulling me closer to him.

I glance over to cheryl as her eyes train on the group a few booths away from ours, I stand quickly and slide between the blossom twins looping my arm in cheryl’s.

“you’re staring.” I state.

“gazing.” she corrects me.

I let my eyes wander over to them, the sad breakfast club as cheryl liked to call them. they were my childhood friends, I guess I outgrew them.

but there they were,

my oldest friend and once my next door neighbour, a jock that was also major eye candy but more baggage than any one could ever managed, archie andrews.

the new raven haired mystery girl, despite being here for at least 4 months everyone still referred to her as the new girl or ‘fresh meat’ as the boys liked to say as the stared at her ass. she was daddy’s little girl, veronica lodge.

the gay best friend, and the only member I seemed to keep in contact with anymore because he’s an actual cinnamon roll and always has the latest gossip, kevin keller. 

then there was the raven haired boy that lived on the southside leather clad of course, granted that he was now a fully fledged biker. he was quite the loner, no self esteem, always wore that stupid hat but i was glad to see he traded it in for a leather jacket. jughead got hot.

the only one missing from the club was the perfect girl next door, sweater wearing, kindest soul to ever be in riverdale, betty cooper.

my mind flashes back to that night and I sigh, guilt creeping in.

I catch cheryl glances at the cold seat in the booth, the teens that vacate it looking tired and glum. I don’t blame them.

“cheryl, don’t.” I warn her trying to pull her gaze

“I can’t help it.” she admits looking down as jughead catches her gaze, I offer a small smile and he just dips his head.

the boys feel our sombre aurora and fall silent.

“everything okay?” jason ask glancing between the two of us.

I open my mouth to respond but cheryl does before I get my first word out.

“we’re going home.”

she grabs my hand and pulls me from the booth.

reggie looks up at me confused, he thought you’d be going home with him tonight, shrugging your shoulder you mouth a ‘sorry.’

you knew he hated sharing you with the red head and it had been a long semester with the constant arguments between your two bestfriends as they claim that it was ‘their day.’

“okay. well, bye.” I smile dipping down and place a soft kiss on reggies lips before cheryl whisks me out of the diner and we begin the walk toward thornhill.

it was pitch black outside only dimly light as the street lights illuminate the side walks, the cool breeze fanning my face.

my phone buzzes, the blue light shining on my face.

Reginald: I miss you already

I smile to myself typing at a reply.

Y/N: I’ve been gone 5 minutes babe, i’ll see you tomorrow.

“who you texting?” cheryl asks cutting the silence with her sharp words.

“reggie, he gets worried when we walk back by ourselves.” 

she rolls her eyes, her head shaking from side to side as she unloops our arms.

“what?” I laugh, “he’s my boyfriend cher he’s allowed to be worried.” 

she continues to ignore me, her pace picking up as she struts forward.

“cheryl!” I call after her.

“what!” she yells back causing me to stop in my tracks.

“what’s gotten into you?” I argue crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

“your always with him even when he’s not here! can’t you just be with me for 10 minutes?”

you sigh kicking the pavement with the bottom of my chucks.

“you’re right, I’m sorry. you have my full attention.” I admit defeat and she huffs.

I roll my eyes and run over to her jumping on her causing her to let out as stiff chuckle before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“here this is all the attention.” I joke clinging to her as I nestle my head into her neck.

“okay, okay, I get it.” she laughs trying to pry me off her.

we both laugh as we loop arms and head up the cobble driveway leading to the iron gates of thornhill.

“are we going inside? cause i’m feeling a little tipsy.” I giggle leaning against the girl.

my phone vibrating once more.

“it wont be the first time my parents have seen you drunk.” she laughs back.

the sound of yelling and the front door slamming shut makes us both jump

I watch as Clifford darts across the courtyard rushing toward the barn.

“maybe I shouldn’t stay-” I add wearily fishing my phone out of my pocket only for cheryl to grab at my wrist.

“its not like its the first time you’ve experienced my family’s drama.” 

I dip my head in guilt reading reggies name across my dimly lit phone, the truth is that you didn’t want to stay and listen to penelope and clifford argue all night.

I wanted to see reggie, not stay trapped in thornhill.

“sorry cher. I can’t, I have to walk my sister to school, mom has to work a double, raincheck?” I smile trying to remove the disappointed expression from the pale girls face.

“I can’t.” 

puzzled i raise my brows, “can’t wait? if you’re busy tomorrow night we could do it another night?” I offer.

she shakes her head removing her arm from mine.

“i should go.” she announces, pivoting and strutting to the large wooden doors to her house and disappearing.

I sigh rocking back on my heels, my buzzed complete diffused. half of me waited for cheryl to open the door back up and call me a bitch and pul me inside but the other half just wanted to walk away, relief in each step.

but I waited, I even sent her a forgiving text, not wanting to leave things on bad accords for the following school day. we could never really stay mad at each other for long.

or at least that’s what I thought.

cheryl: I’m freezing my ass off out here, talk tomorrow? xox

after waiting for a reply that was never going to come I wonder down the drive way and out of the tall iron gates, spilling out onto the quiet street when I spot a familiar raven haired boy.

he was leaning against the hood of his car, a silly smirk etched onto his tan skin as he runs his long fingers through his jet black locks.

“stalker much?” I joke taking small steps over to the boy, my arms wrapped tightly around my body to try and preserve my body heat.

“you didn’t answer my texts.” he defends 

“sorry, I was with cheryl you know how she can be sometimes.” I sigh leaning into his tall frame.

“just cause she’s jealous.” he tuts wrapping his hands around my waist

“oh cause you can talk mantle! what about that time-” he cuts you off when he lifts me up and spins me around.

“put me down mantle!!” I squeal causing him to drop me down burying his face in my chest.

“where were we?” his speech muffled against my uniform.

“you were stalking me..” I drift off.

he pulls away from me before placing a chaste kiss to my forehead, I smile and rest my head on his chest as it rises and falls with each steady breathe.

“I was worried about you pup.” he admits, a smooth hand combing through my hair.

I roll my eyes as he rambles on about how much he hates us walking alone in the dark when the faint sound of sirens fill my ears.

I place my hand over his mouth to try to listen again, nothing.

“its really late we should go” I tell him climbing side of his jeep.

he rushes over to the other side and plugs in his music before he starts up his car peeling away from the park and heading toward home.

the drive was smooth and quiet, james blunt pulsing through his speakers as I glance out the window, soaking in the dimly lit nights sky.

the quiet started to get somewhat overwhelming, and a sense of dread pulsed through my veins. i see the red and blue lights of an ambulance as we approach sweetwater park. 

i think reggie can sense my worry.

“its okay babe, its probably just another minor accident.” he breaths, looking out the rear view mirror.

“yeah its not un-common, this road gets really dewy at night.” i grin back at him, happy at the slight conversation.

the rest of the drive was once again peaceful.

we reach the front of my house and he puts the car into park.

“thanks for getting me home..” i smiled, staring into his big brown eyes.

“anything for you.” he mentions, giving me a hug.

i raise my hand to open the door.

“y/n wait.” reggie announces.

i look over at him and he looks as if he wants to say something.

“is everything okay?” i ask

“i- i just wanted to ask- i mean tell you…” he stutters

“ask me what?” i question, cracking a grin at the stuttering jock.

“i really like- i really love you y/n.” he mentions faintly, almost in a whisper.

butterflies emerge in my stomach. this is the first time a boy has told me that he loved me.

“really?” 

“yeah. really.” he added.

i dip back into the car and place my hand on his cheek, bringing his lips to mine. the kiss was probably the best one i’ve ever had, because it had substance. it had a meaning. a story.

as our lips part, he continues to stare at me. 

“i love you too.” i broke in, causing a smile to spread like wild fire across the boys face. 

with that, i close the door and walk backwards, waving at him as he leaves my driveway.

i stop in the middle of my front yard and laugh. like a child. smiling, feeling pure happiness and euphoria. it was as if all of the problems in the world melted away, leaving me well and truly happy. 

i take a few steps, skip up the stairs and open the front door.

i see my mom.

shes standing by the stairs, clutching her phone looking at me in a sombre state.

“you’re okay.” she whispers, latching onto me tightly.

“yeah i told you where i was.” i say defending myself, she knew that i was out tonight.

she backs away fro the hug, placing her hands on my shoulders.

she was very over dramatic so i didn’t thing it was a big deal.

“y/n, baby..” 

“yes.” i answer in a sarcastic tone, smiling at her.

“cheryl blossom is dead.” she announces.

and just like that, everything came crumbling down again.

[annaaugustphoto]

Chapter 1: Tuesday, May 14th.

[TUESDAY MAY 14 – 10AM]

(Micah Work – Strange Dream)

“I had this really strange dream last night.  I invited all my exes over for dinner.  They got along famously.  They were laughing and dining with one another as though they were old friends, like they’d known each other for years.  And they were all wearing their most remembered outfits.  You know how every person you’ve ever known has that one thing they used to wear and for some reason just sticks in your memory?  It’s like in all of those cartoon TV shows.  They always wear that same thing.  Well anyways, you know what?  Every one of them kept making it a point to complement each other on how good they all looked.  But isn’t that what women do? They always tell each other how fabulous they all look.  Oh I love that outfit it’s so cute!  Well, it would be cute if it wasn’t what she was wearing when we broke up.”

Micah paused momentarily to finish updating one of the open tickets he was typing a response on.

“What’s crazy is that not a single one of them gave me even the slightest glance.  It’s like I wasn’t there at all.  They wouldn’t even give me the time of day!  And when we sat down for dinner, they passed the dishes right over me.  They didn’t even so much as speak a single word about me.  What’s with that?  How can you not even mention me!  It’s my party in my dream!  Instead, they just talked about what was currently going on with their own lives.  Constant compliments and congratulations.  Not a single one of them even so much as looked in my direction the entire time.”

He typed while he talked.

“I woke from the dream at Four Thirty AM.  Four Thirty AM on a Tuesday dreaming of not one ex, but all of them.  I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get much worse than that.”

“Let me ask you something, Micah, what was for dinner?” Tracey flipped a screwdriver around in his hand then looked back down to the laptop he was replacing a failed hard drive on.  He finished unscrewing the last screw and removed the failed hard drive.

“How is that important?” Micah turned back to his computer screen and typed a few more sentences before clicking the mark as complete button.

“It’s not.  But, I’m pretty sure the whole story is pointless.  I’m out of food at home and need some dinner ideas before I go shopping so I figured your little story might help me with my shopping list.”

“You’re a funny guy Tracey boy.” Micah concealed a smirk and closed the ticket tracking program to switch open his browser.  He pointed the address bar to one of the various dating websites he’s tried over the past few years.

Tracey opened the shrink-wrapped package that contained the new hard drive.  Tracey is Micah’s wise guy coworker responsible for nearly every bit of trouble that Micah had ever gotten into at work (and some of the trouble he’d gotten into out of work as well).  Tracey spent most of his time at work wasting the hours online, watching funny videos, chatting with his wife and always complaining about how he needed to lose weight but then would bring free food from around campus back to the office to snack on between his online distractions.

“You know, Micah, maybe you should talk to one of the Psych professors about that dream.  Sounds like you’ve got some issues.”

Micah tossed a look across the room.

“What?!?!  Don’t look at me like that.  I’m just saying!  That’s some messed up stuff.”  Tracey finished snapping the new hard drive into place. “Meanwhile, my only issue is what to make for dinner tonight.  I’ve scoured the campus today and there isn’t a single bit of free grub to be found!”

“I thought your wife makes all the dinners?”  Micah asked.

“She does, but she’s out of town this week visiting her sister and I’m out of dinner ideas.  I’ve already had TV dinner, Chinese, and pizza twice each.  Oh and I walked over to the next door neighbor during their dinner asking if they had a wrench I could borrow to fix a leaky pipe.  I made out like a bandit that night and the next night I actually had a leaky pipe I needed to fix.  So it was good karma all around.”

“Do you even know what karma is?  I’m pretty sure—you know what, never mind.  Anyway, maybe you should just learn to cook?”

Tracey laughed.  “Ha!  Learn to cook.  That’s a good one.”

“So how’d you get out of going to your sister in-law’s?”  Micah scrolled through his list of matches on the dating site.

“Eh, I told her I was allergic to her sister.”

“Why does that answer not surprise me?”

Micah began typing an email to a girl with a main profile picture of herself wearing middle of winter gear lounging poolside in the hot sun sipping on some sort of fruity drink.  

The photo caption read:

This is what happens when you take a January trip south to visit a friend in Miami and your luggage gets mixed up with someone bound for Maine.

He typed out a short message to her.  He said something like: ‘So, that’s a pretty funny main pic you have there!  I’d love to hear that story of how your luggage went north when you went south.  Maybe over a cup of coffee sometime?  -Micah’

He closed out the web browser and opened the ticket tracking software to see what the next issue at hand was.

[4:30PM]

(Mom Daughter Phone Call)

“Well dear, why don’t you just try that dating site you had talked about signing up for?”

“No mom.“ Anna paused. “Well, I did already.”  She lied.

“And…”

“Nothing.  It was a waste of time.”

“Awe dear well you will find someone!  Just keep your chin up!”

“More like keep doing chin ups.  No one is going to want me with a body like this.”  Why did she just say that?  She knew it wasn’t true.  She needed to stop thinking those thoughts.

“Oh honey, just you wait—I’ m sure your knight in shining armor will come along.  Or at least that’s what we always tell the young ladies at my new church.  You’re too young to be getting married yet anyways.”

“Mom, I’m 26.  That’s the age of most of the people getting married at the weddings I shoot for. Ugh, I hate when you try to tell me how to control my life.  Listen I have to go ok.  I have over 1200 photos to go through and 3 other shoots that I’m way beyond behind on editing.”

“OK dear well, just remember I’m coming down for a visit next weekend.  Make sure to mark it on your calendar ok.  I can’t wait to see you!  I miss you more than anything in the world.”

“And I miss dad more than anything in the world.”

“You know he misses you too.  Every time you pray he hears you.”

“I know.”  She wiped away a small tear starting to form in the corner of her eye.

There was a long pause.  Over the course of the next minute only the slight sound of breathing could be heard.

“I miss you too mom.  Next weekend will be fun.”

“Are you sure you are okay Anna?��

“Yea I’m just grand.  Anyway, you’re going to a new church?  You’ll have to fill me in on all the details.”

“Well, actually Anna, it’s the same church, we just moved locations temporarily so they could fix some leaky pipes or something like—Oh and your niece is turning two in a few days.  Have you called your sister?  You might want to pick up a little something and send it her way.”

“Yes, mom, I remember.”  She lied again.  She had completely forgotten about that little rug rat.  She would just stop somewhere one day after work this week and pick something up.  Maybe tomorrow, she really had too much work to do tonight with her photo editing.  It was going to be a long night, she meant to start working the photos the night before, but exhaustion had taken over after work and she just spent the whole night in front of the TV.  Weddings take it out of you.  It’s a lot of work photographing a wedding.  The people in the wedding have it easy.

The convo dwindled down as convos generally do between a mom and daughter.  Finally the two devices disconnected.  But the two hearts remained.

Anna started her car, pulled out of the work parking lot and headed home.

[burningfairytales]

@harmonization hey! I’m finally done with your prompt, but when I tried replying to it and then save it to my drafts for editing purposes, it disappeared into the void. (Like, seriously. Tumblr ate it. It’s gone from my inbox, and my drafts do say +1 now, but it’s just - not there.) I feel like maybe it got away from me at some point, and that I might have missed the point of your prompt somewhere…. I really hope you still like it. Anyway - here it is:

Cloud is waiting for him, just outside the inn, when Zack returns from the mansion where Sephiroth is still holed up, refusing to speak to anyone.  

Having just been on patrol himself, he’s still wearing that gods awful helmet; the one that looks terrible on just about anyone, but somehow manages to be even more irritating when it’s Cloud wearing it. That, admittedly, has less to do with Cloud not being able to pull the look off - not that anyone could, mind you, not even Zack himself.

(It has everything to do with the fact that Zack just really kind of likes looking at Cloud’s face. It’s a good face, okay - all fine features, framed by that untameable hair, and eyes the colour of polished sea-stone.

And most importantly, it’s expressive - it’s always right there, whatever Cloud’s thinking, in the twitch of his lips, or the raise of an eyebrow, or the way he wrinkles his nose when he doesn’t like something. Zack’s keeping track of all his expressions; carefully catalogued in the corner of his mind that Cloud has somehow, without realising, claimed as his own.)

Cloud’s smoothing down the creases on his uniform before he spots Zack, and his breath comes out in puffs of smoke. His cheeks, from what Zack can make out under the offending piece of uniform, are pink.

“Zack,” he greets, “hey.”

“Hey yourself!” He bumps his fist against Cloud’s, and grins. “You still insist on wearing that thing?”

“Yeah.” It looks like Cloud might be biting the inside of his cheek, and Zack has to resist the urge to just grab the helmet and trash it. His fingers itch.

“You’re gonna be wearing that when we go meet your mom, too? You’ll give her a heart-attack.” He reaches out and pokes his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” Cloud swats his arm away, but at least he’s smiling. “I’ll take it off when we get there.”

Cloud starts walking, and Zack easily falls into step behind him, crossing his arms behind his head as they walk.

It’s well in the afternoon already; the sun’s long passed its zenith and is leaning down to kiss the mountaintops reaching out behind the village. It’s quiet too - just a bit like what he remembers Gongaga to be.

From here, Midgar, with its constant noise, feels a world away - machines whirring and pipes creaking and the chattering of busy people rushing up and down the streets - the sky tinted ever mako-green overhead.

Nibelheim’s streets are mostly empty, and, considering Zack spent his childhood just waiting for the day he’d get out of his village, finds he probably misses the city less than he should.

(With a twinge, he realises he hasn’t written home in a while. His parents must be worried. He’ll request leave, when they get back. They’ll be happy, when he comes to visit. Maybe he’ll even bring Cloud, if they get time off together - Zack’s seen his hometown, and it would be fun to show Cloud his own.

From one backwater expert to the other.)

“It’s cold,” Cloud states, breaking the blanket of silence that’s wrapped around them. “It’s probably going to snow later.”

Zack looks up at the sky, grey and blue, gradually growing orange at the horizon. “Snow? Really?”

Cloud nods. “It’s in the air. It probably won’t stick - it usually doesn’t. But yeah, I think you’ll get to see Nibelheim in its most glorious: grey and muddy and snow slush everywhere.”

“Huh.” Zack makes a contemplative sound. Then adds, grinning, “I look forward to it!”

There’s a hesitance in Cloud’s step he almost misses, lost in thought like that, but he does notice it, in the end. The way he’s walking slowly, in the way no infantryman really does, his feet almost hovering in the air for a split second before taking the next step.

Zack catches up to him in two big strides.

“What’s up?”

“Hm?” Cloud asks, and - yeah, there really must be something wrong, for Cloud to be distracted like that.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Zack bumps their shoulders together. The metal plates clink together with a metallic chime. “And not your usual brand of quiet. More like a worried kind of quiet.”

“My ‘usual brand of quiet,’ huh?” Cloud repeats, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It’s nothing much, really. I’m okay.”

“But it’s still something,” Zack prods, “even if it’s nothing much.”

Cloud inclines his head, but says nothing.

Zack frowns.

“You don’t-” he starts. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I mean. But if I can help-”

“You’re helping.” Cloud tugs a strand of hair back under the helmet, and rearranges his scarf; his hand fingers playing with a thread that’s come loose that the edge. “You’re helping. I just- I’m just-”

“You’re nervous,” Zack realises. It’s a nervous tic, straightening his clothes like that. Everyone has them. SOLDIERs - everyone in the military is trained to look for them, in an opponent. A tell, a sign of weakness. Cloud hides his well, but Zack is attuned to the way Cloud shows emotions. He’s an open book, to those knowing how to read him, and Zack likes to think he’s good at it.

“Yeah.” His hand falls away and he bows his head, purposefully avoids meeting his eyes. It takes a moment before he speaks again. “I moved away to become a SOLDIER,” he says. His shoulders sag a little when he breathes out, and it looks like defeat. Zack doesn’t like it. “But I’m not. She’s not expecting a member of the infantry tonight. I don’t know how to face her.”

Zack rounds him, and places his hands on Cloud’s shoulders.

“Hey,” he says. “No. Listen, Cloud. Just because you aren’t a SOLDIER yet, doesn’t mean you’ll never be. You’ve still got years to go! You’re expecting too much of yourself. And comparing yourself to people like Sephiroth breeds misery. Believe me, I know.”

“I-”

“Nope. No ‘I’s and no ‘but’s. You’re gonna make SOLDIER, Cloud. As long as you hold onto your dreams and your honour, you’re gonna be just fine. You want to know how to face your mother? That’s how. You walk up to that door, with your head held high, and the conviction that you’ve got what it takes to get what you want. Because you do.”

“‘Dreams and honour’,” Cloud murmurs, and the corners of his mouth raise ever so slightly. He lays a hand on top of Zack’s where it still rests on his shoulder, and nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I can do that.”

  The atrocious helmet is in Cloud’s hands when he knocks on the door, and his fingers drum an irregular beat as they wait for an answer.

As it turns out, he’d told his mother about their visit in only the absolutely necessary information - namely ‘I’m coming to Nibelheim and will stop by when I have the time’ and then ‘I’m bringing a friend.’

At least Zack hopes Cloud had told her about bringing a plus-one. He wants to be there for moral support, but he would hate to intrude.

His mother opens the door after a moment, expression completely blank as she takes in the two of them standing there, and for just a heartbeat, Zack worries. But then she’s reaching out, slender arm grasping at Cloud’s wrist, and pulling him close in a fierce hug - effectively smothering any worries Cloud might have had about facing her before he can say so much as a word.

Cloud’s mother looks, at first glance, like a small woman. She has the same fine features as her son, and the same unruly hair - it’s pinned back in a messy bun, but a few strands stick out here and there, falling into her face, and down her back.

“Hi, mom,” Cloud mumbles, into her shoulder.

“Cloud,” she replies as she steps back. “Welcome home. “

She takes in her son, from head to toe, before finally looking over to Zack.

“You must be Zack,” she says,eyeing him with a thoughtful expression, and he wonders if maybe he should have dropped the buster sword off in their room in the inn first - it does look intimidating, probably, to a civilian.

Claudia doesn’t spare it so much as a second glance. Instead, she smiles. “It’s good to finally meet you. Come in, both of you. It’s getting cold.”

Cloud first walks in first, with Zack prodding in after him in slow steps. It’s interesting, how people’s stance changes, when they’re on familiar ground - he’d been so worried just moments before, but now Cloud’s shoulders are straight, and there’s a confidence in his steps, one that comes from knowing a place by heart - knowing which floorboards creak and which don’t, how many steps it takes before rounding a corner, which corners to give a wide berth lest you run into them.

He follows them to the kitchen first, small but cosy, with stone tiles on the floor, and a rack with pots and pans hanging from it next to the oven. There’s a bread dough left out to prove on the counter, and the smell of something delicious cooking fills the room - spicy and, somehow, a bit like home.

“The stew isn’t quite done yet,” Claudia tells them,  “but make yourself at home in the meantime.”

Cloud nods. “Come on,” he says, and leads Zack to a small dining area. “You can take off your gear, if you want” Cloud says, “I’ll put them into my room, and they’ll be safe?”

“Great, thanks!” Zack removes the sword from the mount on his back, and then takes off the shoulder plates and harness before handing them to Cloud.

“Are you okay with me taking that…?” Cloud’s eyeing the buster sword.

“Oh, sure! Why wouldn’t I be?” Zack holds it out. “Careful, it’s kinda heavy.”

“I just know it’s important to you.” Cloud takes it with both of his, and even despite its weight, he holds it like it’s something precious. “I’ll be right back.”

(He walks back into the room not five minutes later, dressed in baggy sweats and a long sleeved black shirt that seems rather tight fitting across his chest.

“Guess I did fill out a little, this past year,” he says, giving him a sheepish smile.

Zack feels heat rising to the hollow of his cheeks. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, looks like.”)

  Dinner is a steaming pot of deliciousness - every bit as good as Cloud had promised that it would be.

It’s some kind of beef and potato stew, rich and hearty, and served with a crusty soda bread. Zack wolfs down two bowls and is about to ask for a third before he considers that maybe that’s rude, but Claudia catches his look and pushes the pot closer to where he’s sitting.

“Go ahead,” she smiles. “I made enough.”

So he helps himself to another bowl.

He listens to Cloud and his mother talk - isn’t surprised when she takes the news of him not being a SOLDIER yet with grace and a smile.

“You’ll make it soon enough. But they’re treating you well?” she asks. “You eat right? Get enough sleep?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, the company takes care of me.”

“I’m your mother, Cloud. I’ll always worry about you.” Tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, she adds, “Have you thought about what I said?”

“What?” Cloud finishes his bowl and traces the edge with his finger.

“About finding someone. Someone who’ll take care of you.”

Intrigued, Zack glances at Cloud, who splutters, grimacing, “what- no. I told you! I’m not interested!” He meets Zack’s eyes, and a flush creeps across his cheeks. He gathers the empty dishes and gets up. “I’ll clean these.”

“Want me to help?” Zack offers, turning on his chair, because Cloud’s already through the door.

“No, you’re okay. I’ll be right back.”

He turns back to Claudia, who’d been watching them. She leans back, amusement lighting up her eyes.

“The food was great!” he tells her. “Definitely better than anything I’ve had in a while.”

She waves him off. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

There’s a moment of silence - and Zack wonders if maybe he should go help Cloud after all. He’s good with people, and he rarely has to deal with awkward silences, but there’s something about sitting down at the table with the mother of his best friend - his best friend, whose chest he’d been staring at earlier, at that.

Claudia seems to notice. “So, Zack,” she starts. “I wish I could say that Cloud’s told me all about you, but he tells me very little.” Then, with a smile, she adds, “but what he does tell me is often about you.”

Zack grins. Rubs the back of his neck. “Only good things, I hope.”

At her nod, he relaxes a little.

“That’s the thing. See, Cloud - he doesn’t connect well with others. I was happy to hear that he finally found a friend. He cares about you a great deal.”

He feels his own grin soften at that. “I care about him, too. He’s great.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Working for ShinRa, it’s what he wants. And I want him to be happy, but it’s hard - knowing he’s out there, fighting, but not knowing how he is, or when he’ll be home next. And I suppose it will only get worse, once he actually makes SOLDIER.”

It’s hard sometimes, to think that they are not the only ones who carry ShinRa’s burdens. They get missions and complete them; failure not an option. They travel, they train, they fight, on a couple hours of sleep a night and shitty rations or even shittier MREs, and most of the time, they do it gladly - this is the life that all of them, including both Cloud and he, have chosen. But it’s hard, not only for them, but the people they leave behind.

It’s probably equally hard, if for different reasons - the fighting and the waiting.

He nods.

For a brief moment, she closes her eyes. “Thank you,” she says. “For not lying about it.”

Faintly, there’s the sound of running water and clinking dishes, and they both consider the boy in the kitchen.

“Cloud’s capable,” Zack says. “He’s amazing. He impressed a lot of people already, and it won’t take long for him to become a SOLDIER. He doesn’t need anyone to protect him. But.” He exhales, a short release of breath, and meets Claudia’s gaze. “But I as long as there’s ever anything I can do, I won’t let anything happen to him.”

He’s met with a contemplative look. “How old are you, Zack?”

“Uh,” he makes. “I’m eighteen.”

“Two years older than Cloud, hm?” It’s not really a question, so he doesn’t answer. “And you’ll take care of him?”

“I’ll do my absolute best. Nothing will happen to him as long as I’m there to stop it.”

And then Claudia smiles. She reaches over the table, and holds Zack’s hand in both of hers. “A mother can ask for no more than that. Thank you, Zack. I really am glad that we finally meet.”

Cloud’s mother looks, at first glance, like a small woman. Blond, unruly hair and fine features. But she has the same determined look in her eyes that Zack has come to know from Cloud. Her hands are calloused in a way that lets him know she is not above hard work, and he realises at once that she loves her son fiercely.

And when she gets up to relieve Cloud in the kitchen, Zack can’t help feeling like he passed some sort of test. He doesn’t know what it means, but it makes him smile a little anyway.

  Cloud’s room, he finds, when Cloud invites him to stay a little longer after dinner, is both exactly and nothing like how Zack imagined it would be.

It’s pretty modest - there’s small desk, a set of drawers, and a bed that’s pushed against the wall, facing the only window. The buster sword is leaning against a wooden chair in the corner of the room, and Zack’s gear is hung over the backrest. It’s a very clean, meaning Cloud’s mother had been keeping it that way ever since Cloud moved out, but even more so, the desk is orderly, sheets of paper stacked neatly in one corner, which confirms Zack’s suspicion that Cloud is just generally a very tidy person.

The walls are mostly bare, save for a ticking clock.

“Hm,” Zack drawls, walking in. “I would have for sure expected one of those Sephiroth posters his fans keep printing. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.”

“Oh shut up,” Cloud nudges him with his shoulder as he walks by. “You don’t get to walk into my room and make fun of me for it. It’s rude.” He points towards the bed. “Just make yourself comfortable.”

“It is rude,” Zack agrees with a grin as he flops down on the bed. “Guess I’m lucky you like me.”

Cloud grabs a blanket from one of the drawers and joins Zack on the bed. He unfolds it, throws one end over Zack’s legs and covers himself with the other half.

“I only have the one,” he says. “Hope this is okay?”

“Of course it is, but - are you sure you don’t want all of it? I’m mako-enhanced, remember? We don’t really get cold that easily.”

“I don’t mind sharing.” Cloud shrugs. “Look.”

Oh. Zack hadn’t noticed at all, but outside, where Cloud is pointing at the window, snow has begun to fall, and the streets and rooftops are already covered in white. On closer inspection, it does seem kind of wet - like Cloud’s prediction, it probably won’t stay until morning, but for now, it’s a beautiful sight; white against the by now dark sky, and the soft light of Nibelheim’s street lamps and windows.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Zack says, and turns to look at Cloud next to him, who’s still studying the falling snow outside. The bedside lamp gives Cloud’s eyes an almost impossible glow, something entirely different from trademark mako eyes.

“Mh.” Cloud shifts closer, until Zack can smell standard issue ShinRa shampoo and something like pine trees. “Hey, Zack?”

“What’s up?”

“Thank you. For coming today.” Cloud glances up at him, impossible eyes framed by full lashes.

“Aw, buddy, I’m happy you brought me to meet your parent.” Zack grins, but adds, more seriously, “You would have been okay, you know?”

“Still. You make things easier, by being there. You-” Cloud looks down. “You give me courage.”

There’s something warm blooming in Zack’s chest, spreading fast through his entire body like a wave rushing to meet the shore, or perhaps, if he were more poetically inclined, like the colours of  dawn bleeding across the sky. He bites his lip to keep it from flooding over.

Beside him, there’s a faint trembling, and Cloud shifts closer yet, to Zack. “So warm,” he murmurs, quietly, which was probably not meant for him to hear.

Zack smiles. “You cold?”

“Just a bit. Maybe I’ll put on a warmer shirt, hang on-”

Zack pulls him back when Cloud moves to get up, and wraps his arms around him. “Nah, come on. Mako-enhanced, remember? I can be your personal hot-water bottle.”

Cloud squirms a little, in his arms, and Zack can feel the heat in his cheeks where his face rests against his shoulder. But then he sighs, and shifts, just a bit, to get comfortable.

“...You’re an idiot,” Cloud informs him, argument losing heat with the fact that he’s buried his nose in the crook of Zack’s neck.

“I can live with that,” Zack replies with a smile, as he rests his chin on Cloud’s head, and decidedly swallows a joke about being Cloud’s idiot because he doesn’t wanna push his luck.

They’re quiet, afterwards, and Zack watches the snow fall outside the window, breathing the scent of pine trees, until his eyes drift shut on their own.

     Claudia balances two mugs of hot chocolate in one hand as she knocks on the door, opens it, quietly, when there is no reply. The sights that greets her makes her smile, probably the biggest and most honest she’s smiled since Cloud left Nibelheim.

There, on the bed, is her son, half draped over Zack; the black-haired, battle-worn SOLDIER’s arms wrapped securely around him. They’re both fast asleep, chest rising and falling slowly, almost in unison.

She places the mugs on Cloud’s desk, picks up the blanket that’s slipped down to the floor and covers the two of them, tugging the edges in more securely. Zack’s eyes flutter open at that, and he moves, just a bit, arms tightening around Cloud as he does.

‘Nothing will happen to him as long as I’m there to stop it,’ he’d said. It’s in that moment, instinctively moving to shield Cloud even as he’s half asleep, that she believes him.

“It’s just me,” she says, quietly. “He chose you, so take care of him for me. I’m trusting you.”

She turns off the light, tiptoes out of the room, and closes the door behind her.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Kindness; Part One

Fandom: Fallout (3)

Pairing: Female Lone Wanderer/Charon

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: So! This was the first thing I ever wrote for Fallout. I decided to revisit it, do a little proofreading/retooling (I was much younger when I began this tale; I wrote it over the course of three-ish years) and then pop it over here and on my AO3.

There will be twelve posts in all, as I’ve grouped together the chapters into something more manageable.

I hope you enjoy!

It had been a quiet night in Underworld. Cerberus' processors whirred quietly as the robot made its rounds about the ghoul lobby. Inside The Ninth Circle, Charon leaned against the wall and narrowed his eyes at nothing at all.

 Bored. Bored bored bored. So bored. The ghoul groaned mentally. There hadn't been a single rowdy outburst in almost a week. After he had tossed Patches out, there had hardly been a voice in the place that was over a whisper. The soft drone of conversation threatened to put Charon to sleep. A low growl of discontent rumbled through his chest. The sparse patrons cast nervous glances in the seven-foot tall ghoul's direction, all used to his somewhat volatile nature. But they knew they were safe as long as Ahzrukhal didn't give him the go-ahead.

 The door to the lobby creaked open and a bundled-up figure slipped in. Ahzrukhal perked up noticeably, a smile creasing the leathery remainder of his facial skin. “Well well, lookee here! We got us a smoothskin I've never seen before.” Ahzrukhal rasped. “Welcome to The Ninth Circle, stranger. Take a seat and tell ol' Ahzrukhal your problems.”

 “I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr. Ahzrukhal.” The stranger murmured. “What I need right now though, is vodka.” He began rummaging in the large rucksack that had been slung across over his shoulder. “I have caps, of course. But I also have a few bottles of whiskey I'll gladly let you take off my hands.”

 Charon's patchy eyebrows rose. Easy there, smoothskin.

 “This is good stuff. Where you been scavenging, stranger?” Ahzrukhal wheezed, holding one of the bottles up to the light.

 The stranger shot the ghoul a quick grin from under the wide brim of his hat, pulling down a thick bandanna to do so. “That's for me to know and you to never figure out.”

 Ahzrukhal harrumphed, pouring the stranger his preferred poison as the other man re-buckled his rucksack.

 ...

 The stranger was in The Ninth Circle every night for almost two weeks. He had a quiet way about him, and never seemed to take his hat or bandanna off. Every evening he came in with a few more bottles of finer-grade liquor to trade for his bottle of vodka, which he would then nurse for several hours as he swapped tales with the residents of Underworld.

 Charon was always there, ever constant in his guard. The stranger seemed keen on taking a seat at the table closest to the glowering ghoul, but never actually attempted to converse with him. He didn't even really acknowledge his presence. Until tonight, that is. Charon caught a cautious brown-eyed look from under that wide-brimmed hat. The smoothskin quickly looked away, hauling his dusty bandanna up and jamming his hat lower. “Does he ever let you sit?” The stranger seemed to be deliberately keeping his tone light, like he was trying to be subtle.

 Charon shifted his weight, re-crossing his arms. A question. One that I can't answer. “Talk to Ahzrukhal.”

 The man grumbled into his vodka, “How about I fuckin' don't. That guy makes my skin crawl, and it isn't because of his looks.” Charon's arms flexed across his chest with the pent-up energy of agreeing wholeheartedly with the stranger. “So he doesn't let you talk, either. Freely, anyway.”

 Charon grunted.

 “M' name's Spoon. I know yours is Charon. He told me. He also mentioned that you're under some sort of contract. Is that right, or is it just a bunch of shit?” The stranger queried softly, swishing the vodka around in his battered mug.

 Charon's eyes narrowed. That fucking prick needs to be more careful about who he tells this shit. I don't feel the need to take on a smoothskin army in his defense. The ghoul grunted again. It wasn't necessarily a noise of confirmation, just a noise. Charon had found a variety of ways to get around his orders when he needed to.

 “Strange. Alright then. One more question, and then I promise I'll be off to Carol's for the night.” The stranger leaned forward in an almost conspiratorial manner, pushing his hat back a little so he could make eye contact with Charon. “Are you content here? Is this...is this what you want?” He asked, quiet enough that Charon could have ignored him.

 Charon abruptly felt like the room was too small, like everyone was watching them. He swallowed hard, tightening his arms across his chest. Ahzrukhal, it seemed, had finally picked up on the discomfort of his 'employee', and his voice rang out across the bar. “Charon! Get this waste out of here.”

 Charon's head snapped up, noting Ahzrukhal's annoyed look when the bartender pointed to Patches. The ragged ghoul, already falling apart and heavily inebriated, couldn't even run as with three easy strides Charon was on him. Charon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, seething inwardly at the obvious show Ahzrukhal was putting on for the smoothskin. The bartender probably would dub it, “displaying Charon's prowess”, or some other equally sanctimonious bullshit. In The Ninth Circle Charon was both warning and promise, and Ahzrukhal never missed a chance to display the power he held.

 Charon hadn't noticed that the stranger (Spoon?) had followed him until he had deposited Patches in front of The Chop Shop and turned to go back to the bar. He almost ran over the smoothskin, large fists clenching tight enough to hurt for a second.

 “Easy big fella'. You didn't answer my question, exactly. But...” Spoon glanced down at Patchwork, “I think I can make a safe assumption.”

 Charon snarled, shoving past the stranger with a clipped, “Talk to Ahzrukhal.” A hand caught his arm though, the sensation so foreign it stopped the ghoul in his tracks. The fingers seemed cold to Charon's constantly fever-hot skin, and it jarred him a little. Never mind the fact that the smoothskin was touching him in the first place.

 But all Spoon did was sigh, somewhat heavily, as he patted Charon's arm. “Give me a week.” He muttered, tilting his hat back again to look at Charon. The ghoul was highly confused, to say the least. Spoon headed off to his room, and Charon returned to his corner, brain whirling with what the smoothskin might have meant.

 He didn't dare to get excited, oh no. Too many hands had been on his contract. Sometimes within minutes of each other. He snorted, ignoring what felt like little electrical jolts running through his body.

 Not excited, and certainly not holding my breath.

 Spoon was gone in the morning, payment for his bed bundled in a ragged square of cloth under Carol's pillow. Winthrop mentioned hopefully that the smoothskin might bring him some scrap metal to fix the rattling vents. “I'm getting too stiff to scavenge it myself.”

 Charon had rolled his eyes at that. That smoothskin doesn't owe you jack, old man. As much as he didn't want to hope though, Charon found himself counting the days until the end of the week. He stood up a little straighter every time the door creaked open, hating the sickening drop in his stomach when it was just another ghoul here for their fix.

 A week passed and the hope that Charon had been denying the existence of eased quietly into disappointment. He knew that it had been a futile dream from the start, he was a permanent fixture of this bar and no scavenger with a goofy hat was going to change that.

 Despite his dour view, his daydreams were full of the smoothskin striding into the bar in a blaze of glory, venom spewing from his mouth as he tore Ahzrukhal a new one and took Charon's contract. Though the scenario would change (sometimes the scavenger blew the bartender to kingdom come and emerged triumphant from the rubble like Grognak, sometimes he crept in at night and craftily slid the contract out of Ahzrukhal's pocket while he slept), the ending remained the same.

 “C'mon partner, we've got work to do.”

 Charon shook his head at himself. What a pipe dream. In all his years of service, he had yet to come across an employer who saw him as anything more than a killing machine. Some of them started out nice enough but just like his daydreams they all ended the same, with the large ghoul being sold off to the highest bidder in exchange for caps or resources.

 On a few occasions his employer had gone down in a hail of gunfire and Charon was forced to stop fighting, order-bound to dig through his employer's pockets with shaking hands and take his contract. Only to press it into the grip of the next person he came across, for good or ill.

 His leathers creaked as his arms tightened across his chest. I'm so damn tired of this.

 ...

 On the eleventh day, Spoon returned. He seemed to be in a bad way, according to what Charon overheard from the bar patrons. The story went that he had run into some Talon Company undesirables that had it out for him, and it was only through Willow's sharpshooting that he managed to escape.

 Yet as the day drew to a close, that familiar figure darkened the doorway to The Ninth Circle. He was instantly swarmed by excited ghouls, clamoring to hear his tale. He brushed them off though, murmuring that he needed a drink before embarking on his story. The young man threw some caps on the bar and Ahzrukhal tossed a bottle of vodka his way. Spoon tore the cap off and started drinking straight from the bottle, forgoing his usual chipped mug. “Alright, alright. Settle down. First, I need to know where Carol is. She ain't at her place.” Spoon finally said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 “She headed over to Snowflake for her usual skinning.” One of the ghouls offered, giggling at her own choice of words. Spoon nodded his thanks.

 “Good. As far as my story goes, ain't much to tell. I'll be on my way tomorrow. Now that I've got the Talons on my tail, I don't want anyone else getting hurt.” His eyes strayed to Charon, and he slid off his stool, nodding his thanks to Ahzrukhal for the vodka. “I'll be back later. I have to go thank Willow, and I still have a whole bunch of goodies for Tulip. Oh! And Winthrop's scrap.” He grinned, giving his pack a shake so everyone could hear the heavy clank of the metal.

 A few of the patrons followed him out, no doubt interested in whatever he had to barter to Tulip. Charon sighed, maybe a little louder than necessary as he relaxed against the wall again. He should have known that the smoothskin would forget him. They always did.

 ���

 Spoon was back within the hour, his shoulders somewhat tense as he took his customary table near Charon. “Sorry I'm late.”

 Charon thought his head might fall clean off his shoulders if this smoothskin kept surprising him.

 Spoon grinned up at him suddenly, face much paler under its layers of grime than Charon remembered. “Those Talon fuckers followed me for a few days. I was starting to get worried. I picked most of 'em off in the metros, but it was a little touch and go between them, the ferals and the Big Greens across the way. Lucky for me Willow's a crack shot, otherwise I'd have been mincemeat.”

 Charon remained silent.

 Spoon looked back down at his bottle, seeming deep in thought. “You're pissed at me, ain't you. I figured you would be. I really am sorry I'm a couple days behind. I'm horrible at schedules and shit. Not my strong point. But,” He continued, reaching into his rucksack and beginning to forage around. “I can make it up to you if you can hang on for a few more minutes.”

 Charon's brow furrowed as Spoon pulled a few good-sized bundles out of his bag. The ghoul's eyes widened when he heard the unmistakable sound of caps clinking against each other. Spoon rose and slung his rucksack back over his shoulder, shooting the ghoul a teasing wink.

 The scavenger sauntered over to the bar, and leaned in close to Ahzrukhal. Charon strained his ears and cursed inwardly when he couldn't hear a thing. Spoon spoke for several minutes in a low tone, seeming passionate about whatever the fuck he was saying as he used his hands to illustrate his points. Charon's body jolted when Ahzrukhal reached out a hand and ran it down the side of the smoothskin's face, and the large ghoul found himself fighting a wave of nausea, clearing his throat and looking away.

 Spoon gestured to Charon abruptly and Ahzrukhal drew his hand back in a quick jerk. The bouncer did his best to appear bored and like he wasn't paying attention as Spoon handed over one of his bundles. Ahzrukhal made a show of slowly counting the caps, bunching piles of fifty while Spoon looked on, leaning against the counter and continuing to slug off his bottle.

 The bartending ghoul finally nodded after what seemed like an eternity, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out...something. Spoon took whatever it was and carefully tucked it away into his own jacket. Charon forced down a growl at how Ahzrukhal's fingers lingered on the smoothskin's for far too long.

 The bouncer hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until Spoon casually sat back down and he released it all in a quiet whoosh. “Well big guy...Charon, that is, how would you like to go on an adventure?” Spoon's smile was genuine this time, not some cheesy showman's grin as he showed the ghoul the worn piece of paper he had gotten.

 Charon's breath caught in his throat, and it was with shaking legs that he lowered himself into the chair next to Spoon. Spoon murmured something sympathetic, pointing towards his bottle of vodka in an unspoken go ahead. Charon took a healthy gulp, his eyes watering at the strength of the stuff. “How did you manage to get my contract?” He finally said, his voice coarser than usual from disuse.

 Spoon looked worried. “I bought it, of course. He wanted me to kill Greta, y'know. But I couldn't. She's not the easiest person to be around, but nobody fucking is anymore. I refused that, so he asked for two thousand caps. I figured he probably thought I wouldn't be able to come up with 'em. I could, I just needed time to scavenge. I had to go a little more...out of the way than usual.” Spoon leaned back in his chair, balancing on the rear legs. “I got a little over two thou' once I traded most of my junk in Rivet City. I hoped he might be greedy enough to take a thousand, if he got to see it upfront. I did have the other thou', just in case. And the rest is history.”

 “That rat bastard got my contract for free and he just fleeced the shit out of you because you're too nice to kill his competition.” Charon snarled. “I'll go over the specifics of the contract with you in just a minute. Right now, I must take care of something.” He shoved his chair back from the table, and it was with measured steps that he made his way to the bar.

 The room hushed and Ahzrukhal looked up from his caps, sensing something was amiss. “Ah, Charon. Have you come to say goodbye?” He rasped, that insufferably sleazy smile on his face.

 “Yes.” Charon spat, whipping the combat shotgun off his back and aiming down the sights. Ahzrukhal's face froze in a mask of almost comical shock as Charon blew his body apart with two cool trigger pulls; the bartender was dead before he hit the ground. Some of his blood splattered across Charon's face and Charon hastily wiped it off. The idea of that evil man's blood on his skin made his stomach clench queasily. He spat to the side, then turned on his heel as people seemed to realize what had just happened.

 “Oh my God!”

 “He shot Ahzrukhal!”

 “He's gone feral!”

 The Ninth Circle was empty in less than thirty seconds. The only people left were the smoothskin, Charon himself, and what remained of Ahzrukhal. Charon came and sat back down next to Spoon, noting with a flash of amusement that the smoothskin seemed to be in shock. “Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard. So long as he held my contract, I was honor-bound to do as he commanded. But now, you are my employer and I will serve you, for good or ill.” The binding phrase came from him easily. He'd said it so many times before. For good or ill.

 “Uh, you probably shouldn't have done that.” Spoon managed to choke out. Charon shrugged, flexing long-unused muscles with a sigh of satisfaction. The adrenaline felt wonderful. And the knowledge that Ahzrukhal would never touch or order him around again was almost its own reward. “No seriously, what if everyone thinks I ordered you to do that? They'll kill me!” Spoon continued, not noticing how Charon's eyes darkened.

 “No one will lay a hand on you. Every ghoul here tonight was already eavesdropping on us. They all knew I was unhappy, but there was nothing any of them could do. Caps are scarce in Underworld, especially when you have your own addictions to manage.” Charon grumbled. “They'll view it as an act of mercy that you freed me from him.”

 “O...Okay. If you're sure. I'm uh...I'm paid up at Carol's for the night, so you can come with me. Then tomorrow I've got to head out. Do you want to come with me, or do you have other stuff to do?” Spoon asked, obviously trying to avoid looking at the remains of the bartender on the floor.

 Charon snorted. “You don't seem to understand how this works, Master. I am bound to you. You are my employer. And until you see fit to foist me off on someone, or someone offers you the right amount of caps, or someone somehow manages to get past me and blow your brains out, I will follow you.”

 “Oh.” Spoon said weakly. “I thought that...I thought if I gave you your contract, you'd be free and you could kind of...choose whether you wanted to come along or not.”

 “No. That is not how my contract works. But it was kind of you to think that you would free me after paying that many caps.” Charon hesitated, then carried on, “I know the only things you've seen me do probably don't strike you as fine displays of my skills. But I swear on my life, I will make my services worth your kindness.” For good or ill.

 “Alright then.” Spoon stuck his hand out, cheerily seeming to ignore how Charon flinched at the speed of the action. “Let's shake on it, eh big guy?”

 Charon stared down at his hand, well aware that the distrust was plain on his face. “Equals shake, and I am not your equal.”

 Spoon made an exasperated noise, tangling his fingers with the tall ghoul's and moving them in a clumsy shaking motion. “If you're gonna' play it like that, at least don't call me Master. Shit's fucked up.”

 “What should I call you?” Charon asked. “Master was sufficient for my prior employers.”

 Spoon shrugged. “Whatever the fuck you want to call me, I guess? Doesn't really matter to me. If you're gonna' be stuck with me for a while, you might as well call me something you like. Everyone else calls me Spoon though.”

 “Very well. Spoon.” Charon could tell he had some adjusting to do.

 “Let's get to bed, huh?” Spoon jerked his head towards the door. “I dunno about you, but it's late as shit and I am exhausted.” He extended a hand to his new companion, that strangely-genuine smile back again as he helped the ghoul up.

 ...

 Carol was wearing a different dress. That was the first thing Charon realized when he took a cautious step into Carol's Place. It wasn't new. Nothing was new in this world that they lived in. But it was new to her. It was a gentle shade of purple. It made her look radiant, no pun intended.

 Spoon smiled tiredly at the woman. “It suits you! Couldn't wait to put it on, eh?” He jibed with a wink.

 “Oh quiet, you. It's been so long since I wore something different.” The ghoul hushed him, looking worriedly up at Charon. “What's he doing with you, dear? I've heard a few rumors. Something happened to Ahzrukhal?”

 “I bought his contract. Charon got...uh, really happy about it. So happy he shot Ahzrukhal in the face.” Spoon mumbled, seeming embarrassed.

 Carol sucked in a breath. “So he's dead?”

 Spoon nodded. “Yeah. Originally Ahzrukhal wanted me to kill Greta for the contract, but I worked out another deal.”

 Carol's eyes welled up and she pressed her hands to her mouth. “Not my Greta.” She said softly.

 “I don't doubt it.” Charon growled. “You and yours were his only competition. If I hadn't killed the bastard, he would have just gotten some other prick to do it.”

 “Language, dear.” Carol scolded absently, hugging Spoon tight. The man yelped, and Carol quickly let go. “I'm so sorry dear! I forgot.” she said with a frown.

 “I'll be okay, just a little tender still. No worries.” Spoon grimaced. “Is it alright if Charon stays here with me?”

 “Of course sweetheart. Are you two hungry? I can see if I have some Cram left over that isn't as purple as this lovely dress.” Carol said with a dry chuckle. Spoon nodded, thanking Carol for letting them stay even after what had happened. Carol brushed him off though, smiling and saying that he was too kind for the Wastes.

 For good or ill.

Part Two

[8cetera]

Track #5: No More

(A string of short imagines based on Rafael Barba, inspired by the songs from Jonathan Larson’s Tick, Tick…Boom!) #1. 30/90  #2. Green Green Dress  #3. Johnny Can’t Decide  #4. Sunday  #5. No More #6. Therapy

The sunlight peered through the gaps in the blinds and landed directly upon his eye. He squinted in irritation and slumped his head on his pillow to face away from the sudden intruder, that being of nature.

He knew there was very little chance that he would be able to fall back to sleep but nevertheless, he tried. He reminded himself that he deserved an extra hour or two in bed.

The clutter of papers, Blue Diamond nuts containers and the growing pile of coffee stained mugs on his side table attested further to the fact. He inserted additional effort in relaxing his mind and began his process that, proven countless times in the past, has worked seamlessly.

He was on the twenty third sheep when he began to feel it working. The sounds of the kids playing basketball in the court nearby began to fade as his eyelids granted him exactly what he wanted.

Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eigh—

“Rafi!”

This was just a dream.

He was simply having a dream that his mother was knocking excessively on his door at this very moment. He thought he was a sensible man. A smart one, even, and so when he thought the best course of action was to not move an inch and to keep his eyes shut tight in hopes that she made a mistake, he kept that thought.

However when the parent he loved to absolutely no end decided to come in anyway and plant herself at the foot of his bed, he felt his determination to fall back to sleep quickly falter.

“Rafi-” She shook the ankle of the foot that was hanging off the bed.

“Rafael.” He made a noise that might have resembled a combination a grunt and wail, and curled his legs underneath the blanket. He felt so childish, and felt even more so when he realized that his mother must be thinking the exact same thing.

“Rafael Barba you better get up right this minute or so help me God I will make sure you never do.”

Well that certainly did the trick.

The thought of sleep and sheep became a distant memory as he immediately sat up against his headboard, not missing the proud expression directed at him.

“What is it, Mamí?” He said in the middle of a yawn.

He rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands and squinted as he waited for a response. When none came, he studied his mother in search for clues. When his line of sight landed on her hands, he thought his heart would separate itself from his body.

If humans miraculously had the capability to see snapshots of what people were thinking, all they would see from Rafael’s mind would be a symbol.

A symbol of a shield with crimson detail at the top and accompanied with the letters ve ri tas written across. Many things ran through his mind at any time of day, but this symbol was the one thing that has always remained constant. That is, for the last eight years of his life.

It just so happens that that symbol, the one that was engraved on the very core of his mind, was the same symbol on the top corner of the envelope that his mother was holding.

He could hear her calling out his name again, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her hands. For the first time in a long time, he felt fear. It was as if his entire life depended on the contents of that four by nine inch envelope.

Newsflash, Rafael thought to himself, it does.

He slowly reached for the envelope with both hands, trying to control the way his fingers were shaking. He saw his name and address printed on the center but that didn’t cease himself from questioning the reality he was in.

“Mamí, what if—” He stopped himself, senselessly worried that if he released it out to the universe, it would be tempted to make it so.

“Rafael—” His mother put her hand over his shaking one and squeezed, “whatever’s in there, whether it’s what you expected or—”

He could see that she, too, didn’t want to say the words. Like mother, like son.

“You will get past it. I know you will.”

She assured him, and while he still felt the nauseating sense of nervousness, he also felt comforted from his mothers words.

After a couple of deep breaths, he turned the envelope over and began to peel off the seal.

Rafael hated running.

Running, jogging, brisk walking—anything that required more effort than his average walking speed, he wasn’t a big fan of. One of the things that gave him joy about graduating high school was that he no longer had to attend gym, which of course involved running, and lots of it.

Yet here he was, running close to a mile now, with the biggest smile on his face with only one destination in mind. When he reached it, he bent to put his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath.

He pressed the buzzer and impatiently waited for a response. He sighed in relief as he heard the short static that indicated that there was someone on the other line.

“Yeah, who is it?”

“It’s me!” He only realized after, especially after a passerby gave him a concerned look, that he might have said it too loudly. He cleared his throat and proceeded with a softer tone.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“Raf! Sure, I’ll be right down.”

He saw her come down the stairs through the glass on the door, and just when he thought his smile couldn’t be any wider, he proved himself wrong.

“Hey, you! I was actually just about to head over—”

He knew it was forward and relatively presumptuous, to unexpectedly pull someone into an embrace, even if the person his arms were around was a childhood friend.

“Raf—” She laughed nervously as she returned his hug but patted his back when his hold began to feel too tight for her to continue her sentence, “I can’t exactly breathe.”

“Oh sorry, I’m so sorry.” He immediately let her go, suddenly embarrassed at his behavior.

“It’s fine” she nudged him on the shoulder, “What’s up?”

He motioned for them to start their, as he tried to find the best way to share the news.

“Rafi, you’re never this quiet and I can’t believe I’m saying this but its actually starting to concern me so would you please spill—”

“I’m going to Harvard.”

He continued walking, but she didn’t, and so now his back was turned to her as they both tried to process the information. It was the first time he said it aloud, and while he made sure she didn’t see it, he couldn’t lie to himself by saying that his eyes didn’t begin to water.

“Rafael.”

He rubbed his face before turning around and laughed at the way her mouth was agape.

“Full scholarship.”

“Rafael!”

If it was indeed forward and presumptuous to hug ones childhood friend, he now realized, as his arms were once again wrapped tightly around her, that none of it mattered. What mattered was that

“I’m so happy for you.” She whispered.

“Thank you.” He responded, but not without craning his head ever so lightly that his nose traced the side of her neck.

The action didn’t go unnoticed between the two of them. She loosened her hold and looked away from his gaze, both silently agreeing that they continue their walk and not talk about it.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” She asked him playfully as they circled the playground for the third time.

“What?”

“You’re moving up, Barba. Before you know it you’re gonna’ call me to tell me you have your own washing machine. No more having to walk five blocks to Peters’ with thirty pounds worth of laundry to do in the middle of winter.”

He threw his head back in laughter, which she soon joined.

“No more broken heaters, or leaking ceilings”

“No more brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink because the pipes are always screwed up.”

“You’ll get a fancy apartment, one with a walk-in closet.”

“Wait, wait- a walk in closet? How much clothes do you think I'll have, exactly?”

She waved her hand in front of his face.

“Shh- shh- don’t spoil my vision.”

Laughter and good conversation made time go fairly quickly, and soon enough they stood in front of her apartment. He was a second away from bidding his goodbye when she spoke.

“I-I have news too.”

She looked at his curious face for a few moments and smiled, “Sri Lanka.”

He stared at her with a blank expression.

“What about it?”

“That’s where I’m going, Rafi. In three months. I’ll be volunteering with Global Vision in Sri Lanka.”

“Wha-what? Since when did you—? When did you—”

“I applied earlier this year. There were so many things to consider, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. Which I now do. Rafi… don’t look at me like that. This is a good thing.”

He sighed and felt bad about the look he didn’t mean to give her. He took both of her hands in his.

“Of course it is. Congratulations, I mean it. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Thank you. And I know it’s sudden but this feels right, Raf. For the first time in a while I feel like I’m making the right decision and I know there are risks about not knowing what happens after but I need to trust myself and, and—”

“Stop.” He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs and made sure she was looking into his eyes. “It’s the right decision. If you think so, that means it is. Your gut has only led you to good things, so don’t start doubting it.”

She landed her head on his chest and made a noise that sounded very close to the one he made earlier when he had woken up.

“I’m scared, Raf.”

“Sure you are. But that isn’t a reason not to do this.”

She lifted her head and struggled to find the words to describe her gratitude.

“Besides if things don’t work out, you could always sleep in my walk-in closet.”

She shook her head, finding it very difficult to hide her amusement.

“I’m going to miss these walks.”

“Me, too.”

The uncomfortable silence returned, and Rafael was quick to acknowledge it.

“I better go. Mamí wants to head over and see abuelita to share the news.”

“Of course, of course. You’ll call me later?”

He nodded, and waited for her to head back up before he began his walk back.

No more, he found himself chanting quietly.

No more.