#i know nothing about ducks but i enjoyed this prompt immensely | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

generous1ty · 4 years ago

Note

Gundham, Nagito and Hajime with a s/o that has a duck army? (A surprisingly strong duck army) they say they’re gonna take over the world with it-

Also they probably throw bread crumbs on Kazuichi so the ducks attack him.

hihi!

i really love this prompt, not only because it’s so random, but because i love ducks and having a strong duck army sounds amazing. i suppose we’re the Ultimate Duck Army General? hahahsjjskds

don’t bully Kaz too much pls--

also, you didn't specify whether you wanted headcanons or drabbles, so i did drabbles for them! hope you don't mind. :)

lots of love! <3

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Gundham, Nagito and Hajime reacting to their S/O who’s a General of a strong Duck Army!

genre: fluff warnings: none besides...bullying Kazuichi... </3

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Gundham Tanaka (0.6k words)

to say that this day was like any other day would be undermining the situation at hand.

currently, unbeknownst to Gundham Tanaka, the Forbidden One, you had been holding an army of your own and kept it hidden from him! an army of ducks, at that!

it was so surprising that it had baffled the man from his ice cold persona to his power to call his Four Dark Devas.

i mean, a mere mortal has the ability to handle an army of ducks?! absurd!

you must be... more reliable than he thought. surely you were of the same caliber as him. after all, not just anyone can become a general of an army. a duck army especially.

"[Y/n]... have you conquered the demon that speaks to the ducks?! is that why you have claimed such immense power over armies and armies of such strong opponents?!" his voice rattled your ears as you simply smirked, crossing your arms in wait for his speech to be done.

"Gundham, the Forbidden One," you called his name, grabbing his own attention as a cold bead of sweat fell down his face, "I have been sustained to years and years of training to be able to master the art of creating this massive duck army!"

while you had a bag of crumbs still left in your hands, you decided you'd enjoy yourself a bit.

"with this army, i will take over the world! everyone will know my name as [Y/n], God(dess) of the Flying Creatures!" you boasted, as Gundham let out a strained noise.

"you surely have enough power to defeat me, [Y/n], God(dess) of the Flying Creatures. HOWEVER! Gundham, the Forbidden One must stop you in your tracks! To let a mere mortal wander with such power is blasphemy! so i shall put a stop to it,"

you readied your bag of crumbs, your hands already inside of the paper before he could even cast a spell or draw a summoning circle. more so, before he could start anything, you had already throws the crumbs at him, yelling the iconic line almost anyone wants to say,

"ATTACK!!"

. . . .

he... had lost..?

surrounded by calm ducks that had once been feral to him, Gundham was laying on his back. the floor had never felt so cold...

"to think... i would lose to such as the likes of you..." he let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes fluttering shut, "i guess this shall be the end of Gundham, the Forbidden One, right?"

"Gundham," your voice was strong and stern, enough to shake his own eyes open once more despite his quick and shameful defeat, "your purpose is not to defeat me, but to befriend me in defeating the Demon King of hell, and to restore peace across the lands."

your outstretched your hand, waiting for him to accept the help off on his back, "so befriend me, and i shall help you conquer the demon realm."

you were a worthy opponent indeed... to defeat him and then accept him, no wonder you were leading such an amazing duck army. truly, you were a leader; someone worth following.

his hand had fallen into yours, mesmerized from your skillful nature.

what had you done? had you cast a spell on him? a spell that made his heart pick up speed, or make his face light on fire?

despite this, he could not utter a word. he simply hid behind his scarf, admiring you from the distance you had placed.

"now, let's go bully Kaz," you suggested, his hand still in yours as you both travelled away to faraway lands to throw breadcrumbs and magic spells at Kazuichi Souda.

Nagito Komaeda (0.5k words)

Nagito's hands were filled with breadcrumbs and his body flocked with different kind of aquatic birds.

of course, it was just his luck to be hindered when something lucky happened to him. that was just the cycle. even so, he smiled at the ducks gently pecking at his hand for the bread. the ducks were so cute, and full of a beautiful kind of hope.

before this, he had to deliver some bags of bread crumbs to you. he didn't ask why, nor did he need to. he was just happy you trusted and depended on him to even ask for a simple favor from him!

but sadly, on the way to you he was attacked by a large group of ducks. now, with no way out but to feed the ducks, he stay sitting on the ground, feeding the ducks either by hand or by throwing some crumbs out.

any passerby would think he was some crazy lunatic or something.

you, however, had tried to meet him halfway since... well, since he didn't show up with your bags of bread crumbs.

"hey, what are you guys doing? i told you to stay in--" with a few ducks in your arms, your eyes spotted Nagito. he had heard your voice from your general direction, and his eyes had met yours.

"Nagito?!"

"[Y/n]!"

. . . .

"wow, [Y/n]! you really commanded those ducks as if they were your own army! such talent..! nothing less from an Ultimate, I suppose," he praised you for helping him get away from the flock of ducks that were, as said, your own army.

"i really am lucky to have had you save me, huh?" his question made you smile as you picked up on of the ducks from the nice, straight line behind you.

"from my own army, yes. very lucky, i'd say," Nagito's face seemed to flush a bit, shoving his hands into his pocket as he looked away from making eye contact.

"your army, huh..? then i guess i got it right," he boasted, chuckling to himself.

"well, they don't call you the ultimate lucky student for nothing," with your back turned to him, arms outstretched wide with enthusiasm as you began your speech.

"i shall dominate this world with this very duck army! ducks will be the new indoor pets, they'll be fed and appreciated everywhere.. they'll be a new trend! and once i take over this world..." you turned around, taking the bags with breadcrumbs from Nagito, "you'll be my second in command."

you waved goodbye as you trotted along with the many, many ducks following behind you.

his hands that were released from his pockets had covered his mouth, his mouth that let out small chuckles and giggles.

the hope you gathered inside of you to say that you'd take over this world infested with despair and fill it with hope by a duck army! it was splendid!

and to be your second in command...

he supposed that maybe just once, he could be a little bit selfish.

Hajime Hinata (0.7k words)

it had been a simple outing to the park.

Hajime had no idea why you insisted to go somewhere else, as the park was a nice way to get some soft exercise and the scenery around the park nearby was beautiful.

he was fine with it if you didn't want to go, though.

despite all your protests, you both went anyway.

you two had only been in the park for a small while, but you were so stiff and observant. it was kind of concerning to him, so he decided to ask.

"hey, [Y/n], are you okay? if you don't want to stay here we can--"

"NO! i-i mean, no. i'm okay, i just-- i have something to tell you after we're done with the walk, okay?" you insisted that you both finish this walk.

you also thought that the scenery of the trees and the lake was beautiful, especially since the sun was so bright today. the weather was good for a walk, Hajime knew what he was doing when he suggested the outing to be today.

he scrunched his nose up a bit, but agreed nonetheless, "alright.. if you say so. if you ever need anything, you can always just ask."

he was so reassuring just AGGHHH I LOVE HIM

anyway

ducks.

all you saw were your ducks everywhere. if you hadn't trained them to understand your signals to stay away, you swore Hajime would have been swarmed and pecked by many, many ducks by now for even being near you.

thank goodness you had thought of things beforehand.

other than you spotting ducks everywhere, you were also graced by Hajime's smile the whole walk. just looking at nature and taking in the beauty of it-- Hajime loved being outside.

but most of all, he loved being with you during all this. if he was honest, he hoped that the thing you had to tell him was a confession-- but he wasn't lucky like Nagito. to get his hopes up would be silly, so he just needed to be logical.

maybe it was about this park, or something that had happened to make you so...

"Oh hey, a duck," his voice startled you. but that wasn't the only thing that surprised you.

a duck?!

he picked the small duck up and-- oh god.

"HAJIME!!"

. . . .

shooing a few ducks away from the brunette, you dusted him off, a sorry expression on your face.

"agh, i'm sorry--"

"why're you apologizing?" he gave a soft laugh, "it's not like you knew i'd be attacked by ducks."

as ridiculous as it sounded, after he picked up the small duck at his feet, he was knocked over by a multitude of others in hiding.

now that he thought of it, why were there so many ducks nearby..? he didn't see any on the lake, either. it was... odd.

"so hey, do you know why..?-"

"Hajime," you helped him get up on his feet, taking his hand and pulling him up from the ground.

his face flushed a bit as he grabbed your hand, and he gave his attention to you, "yes, [Y/n]?"

"those ducks were mine," you told him, a hand on his shoulder as you gave him the same sorry face as before, "i'm sorry."

...what?

what did you mean by-- what?? those ducks were yours? why-- no, how did you get those ducks? how did you get them to be so well trained to hide in bushes and trees??

"i know it's probably confusing, but-- i've had them for a long while. i promise i'm using them for the good of the world," you told him, as his confusion only worsened.

"good of... the world..?"

he could see your expression darken as you smiled, grabbing his hand and raising it to intertwine your fingers.

"world domination," you told him, your face brightening up once more.

he was baffled-- speechless. world domination?! he had to stop you--

"well, that is, if you can conquer the world with ducks," you chuckled, which had cancelled out your past claims.

"but i really did train those ducks. they're like my own mini army,"

he chuckled, almost finding this amusing. his chuckle turned into a small laugh before kissing your forehead, "world domination sounds like a good goal."

your face flushed a bit, letting go of his hand and backing away.

before conquering the world, it'd be better if you conquered the feeling inside your chest first.

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namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou · 3 years ago

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A Break of Routine

Had a random bout of inspiration, so now you get a little Bustopher fic. I tried to write everyone as in character (and British) as possible, but I’m not so sure if I succeded. Well. I hope you enjoy and all my love to all who read/like/reblog! ♥

Leaving an empty plate and the backdoor of Blimp’s behind, Bustopher Jones already knew that this particular Saturday wasn’t going to continue on in its tidy fashion as it normally would.

He usually didn’t allow a break from his routine, but his whiskers spread out and his ears twitched with the uncanny kind of knowledge that came from instincts that it was necessary just this one time. And really, Bustopher was nothing if a creature of habit, but a little excitement now and then suited him just fine. It was good to stay on one’s toes and always keep one eye open for new opportunities, after all.

No sooner had he turned the corner on his way to The Glutton that the cause of his foreboding feeling presented itself.

A kitten was cowering beneath a postbox, trembling and sniffling miserably. Bustopher stooped down a little to see if he’d recognize the fur pattern, resulting in the poor thing squealing in fear and leaping into the gutter with a small splash.

Worried that the kitten would run into the street and get hit by a car or some youngster on a tricycle, Bustopher waddled to the edge of the pavement and sat down on his haunches, trying to look as unthreatening as possible (which was easy and hard at the same time – he had just too much girth to not look like a towering giant, but when he sat down he looked like someone had put a pair of pointy ears and a tail onto a very fluffy football). Now that he was leaning closer to the kitten, he thought to make out black and pale orange fur, striped hind legs, two black paws on the left side and two white paws on the right. He had to squint a little to detect said white, since it had rained the night before and the gutter was still not much more than a glorified muddy puddle.

“Do come out of the puddle, will you?” Bustopher suggested. As soon as he had spoken the first word, he saw recognition sparking in the kitten’s eyes. Splendid. There went one problem, now if only he would recognize her face… darn his severe short-sightedness.

With a few wet shlorps the kitten climbed back onto the pavement, tail hanging limp and tiny body still shivering like a leaf. To Bustopher’s surprise, she did not need him to prompt her into saying anything. “Good evening, Mr. Bustopher Jones,” she said, ducking her head shyly and pressing her cheek to her right shoulder. The composed greeting was ruined by the way her lower lip protruded and her breath hitched at every other inhale.

“Good evening,” Bustopher answered. “I believe we have met before…?” It was a stab in the dark, but to his immense relief the kitten nodded.

“Mh-hm.”

“Splendid.”

“Mh-hm.”

“Would you be so kind to tell me your name again? I come around a lot, I meet a lot of cats everyday, you know. It is a lot to remember.”

The kitten rubbed her nose on her shoulder. “Electra,” she murmured.

“Electra? What a fine name that is.”

That seemed to please her; her tail wrapped around her paws instead of hanging limply over the edge of the pavement. “Thank you,” she said shyly, staring at his spats.

“Now,” Bustopher began carefully, “how did it come to be that you are here all on your own? Did you lose your way?”

With that, her brave composure fell away and Electra burst into tears.

“I didn- didn’t mean to! I just wanted to smell the flowers and Pounci pushed me and I fell off the coun- counter and the stupid big human took a broom and scared him and Plato away and- and-”

The rest of her words trailed of into a wail, and Bustopher didn’t quite know what to do to calm her, so he opened his arms. Little Electra surged into his embrace. “There, there,” Bustopher said and patted her head, a little clueless about how to comfort her. He sighed internally as she dripped mud onto his beautiful white spats, but holding her an arm’s length away wouldn’t help matters right now.

After patting her head for a few minutes, the poor little thing began to purr in an attempt to self-soothe, and Bustopher could have slapped himself for not coming up with that sooner. He joined in and gave his best. His body had enough mass that the resonation of his purr shook the kitten as if she was hugging a spinning washing machine. (To the untrained human ear, his purr sounded not unlike an opera tenor humming to himself, while the kitten’s purr seemed to imitate the chirp of a cricket.)

“I’m better now,” Electra hiccuped after a while, trying to wipe at her eyes and nose with little muddy paws. Bustopher hastily groomed her face before she could smear more dirt into her fur, making her duck her head once more, her high-pitched purr starting up again.

“Very well,” Bustopher said, surveying his work and patting her head one last time. “I assume I am to escort you back home?”

“Oh, I can find my way back… somehow.”

Bustopher shook his head firmly. “That won’t do. I will accompany you, and I won’t hear anything else about it.”

Electra didn’t seem to be very opposed to that. She smiled, trilled and rubbed her newly cleaned face on his leg, creating a new stripe of half-dried mud on both his shiny black fur and on the side of her face. Bustopher sighed.

“Do you eat all day?”

They had made their way past St. James’s Square, stopping here and there to be hand-fed and petted by immaculately dressed humans who cooed over Bustopher’s new companion. One, who was a waiter at Fox’s, even called the chef from the nearest phone box to tell him that “their” cat was a father now. Bustopher liked the chef very much, he always knew just how much pepper to put into the stew, so he left the waiter’s misconception uncommented.

“Indeed,” Bustopher answered Electra with a healthy amount of pride in his voice, giving her a boost to jump up onto a low wall. “I have put a lot of thought into where I go next so the humans don’t notice me going to rivalling clubs on the regular. I am certain that they would be very scandalized indeed if they knew,” he explained smugly.

Electra looked very impressed. “That’s almost as clever as Mister Mistoffelees!” she exclaimed.

Bustopher pricked up his ears. “Oh?”

“Yeah, remember when he- oh, you weren’t there for that.” Electra bounced a little in excitement. “He- he conjured up Old Deuteronomy, because he was gone, you see, and then he was underneath the red sheet!”

“He was gone…?”

“Yes, because of Macavity,” Electra continued cheerfully, and Bustopher stumbled and almost rolled off the wall.

When Macavity’s name been screamed out shortly after Bustopher’s song at the latest Jellicle Ball, Bustopher had made himself sparse as quickly as possible. He liked to think that he didn’t want to burden the tribe with him being quite useless at fighting other than sitting on his opponents, but the truth was that he was a little chicken-hearted when it came to Macavity and similar riff-raff, even if it pained him to admit it.

“Macavity took Old Deuteronomy?” Poor old lad. That couldn’t have done his old joints any good.

“Yes, but then Tugger sang Mister Mistoffelees’ song and Mister Mistoffelees brought him back. It was really easy, he said.” Electra’s lower lip protruded in thought. “I don’t think it’s easy. Cleaning the den is really hard, and at least I can see where I put my toys so I can take them back where they belong.”

Bustopher nodded and hummed, even though he was thoroughly confused. Mistoffelees? The very same Mistoffelees? Well, now that he thought about it, Munkustrap had said something about Mistoffelees moving objects without touching them and a trace of glitter following him when he was particularly excited. Maybe he should have listened more closely. Deep, warm pride rose in Bustopher’s chest when Electra prattled on about how magical and mystical his tricks and how funny his pranks were, ranging from colouring the Rum Tum Tugger’s mane bright green to making poor Alonzo float at every third step.

“Well, I will have to give him my congratulations when I meet him,” Bustopher said, tail lifted high with pride.

“Mh-hm.”

There was something that Electra wanted to say, as her squirming and shy glances suggested. Bustopher’s whiskers twitched with amusement.

“Out with it. Never hold back from asking something. You never know who else you might do a favour.”

Electra ducked her head shyly and rubbed her cheek on his hind leg; it seemed to be a habit to reassure herself in that way.

“Why do you always leave so early? You never stay to dance, or for the Jellicle Choice. Don’t you miss it?” There was genuine concern in her voice, bless her little heart.

Bustopher took a moment to think. Well, why indeed? Perhaps he wasn’t strong enough to see all of them dancing so gaily, so free of worries and sorrows, with the certain knowledge that it would be the very last dance for one of them.

Maybe the unruly little row of toms that lined up to be inspected by him and the giggly heap of queens was enough for him to do a headcount, determine who was new and who wasn’t there anymore, then fool around a little with Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks and leave until the next year, always the small fear lingering in his mind that there would be a new cat in the trio to sing his song next time, to replace the one that had left them for the Heaviside Layer.

Perhaps it was out of convenience. One couldn’t arrive in time for the last shift at the Tomb (and what a fitting name that was) if one was occupied with the Ball until the early morning hours. Perhaps it was because – how had that American cat from The Drones Club put it again – he was a bit of a “cement mixer”.

He had more than enough reasons to not stay very long, in all honesty.

But as he looked down through his monocle at tiny Electra who glanced up at him through her lashes, ears flattened to her scull with uncertainty, he suddenly didn’t deem them very meaningful anymore.

“Perhaps I shall stay longer next year,” Bustopher said finally, and Electra gave a tiny trill, ears perking up.

“Mistoffelees will be so happy. And Jenny, too! And Munkustrap- have you listened to one of his stories before? He’s great at story telling, he’s our Storyteller after all…”

The latest story was told to him in immaculate details by the very enthusiastic kitten at his side, and Bustopher couldn’t help but regret that he hadn’t seen The Awe-full Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles in person. It certainly sounded grandiose, and since Munkustrap had directed it, it must have been very orderly indeed, brimming with finesse and technique.

The long walk through London felt like it took them mere minutes, but time flies when a good story is told, and Electra thought the Rumpus Cat to be such a good story that she had to tell it three or four times. Bustopher didn’t mind, if the kitten was occupied he didn’t have to think of ways to entertain her or soothe her worries, and that suited him just fine. (It was a very entertaining story, as well. Munkustrap had outdone himself.)

No sooner had they reached the outskirts of the junkyard when a frazzled tom shot over the fence like a ginger bullet and hurried over to them, fur bristled with worry.

“Electra!” he called, his warm Scottish brogue tingling pleasantly in Bustopher’s ears. “Where in the Everlasting Cat’s name have you been? We’ve been so worried! Oh, good evening, Bustopher.”

Bustopher chuckled and patted the offered forepaws. He did like Skimbleshanks very much. A little too serious sometimes, but he was so delightfully fussy.

Attracted by the noise, a second tom turned around the corner, and this one’s fussiness was second to none. “Electra, thank Heaviside!” Asparagus Junior fretted, pulled her out of Skimble’s grasp and began to hectically groom the mud out of her kitten-soft coat.

“She got lost,” Bustopher explained, very amused at how windswept the two worry-warts looked.

“Very kind of you to bring her home,” Skimbleshanks sighed, relief rolling off him in waves, bristling fur finally flattening. He lifted a paw to scratch his chest, apparently forgetting that he was still wearing his trademark vest, and his claws got stuck. If cats could have blushed in embarrassment, Skimble would have done so as he tried to free his claws from the cotton wool as discreetly as possible.

“Oh, it was no issue at all,” Bustopher said lightly, mercifully looking away from Skimble’s fight with his vest and observing Asparagus, who had thoroughly checked Electra over and was now purring and grooming her ears, with her head rubbing up under his chin, eyes blissfully closed, finally completely at ease.

“Pouncival has been crying and making a fuss all evening, we better get you to Jenny’s den,” Asparagus told Electra after he had vigorously washed her behind her ears, Electra’s lip protruding again as she lifted a tiny paw to bat at Skimble’s twitching tail.

“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Bustopher Jones!” she said, giving a little curtsy and scampering away, pressing against Asparagus’ side. What a well-behaved little thing she was, Bustopher thought.

Skimbleshanks seemed to know what he was thinking and snorted. “Oh, don’t be fooled by her. She’s a dear, certainly, but she ramps it up for strangers all the more.”

For some reason, the word ‘stranger’ struck him deeply.

To hell with it. What kind of Jellicle cat was he if his own tribe members only saw him as a stranger?

“When will we be seeing you again?” Skimbleshanks asked kindly, obviously expecting him to leave for one of his clubs now that the cargo had been delivered.

“Oh, you know, I just might stay a while,” Bustopher answered, and as he said it, the uncanny kind of knowledge that came from instincts told him that it was the right decision to make.

Skimbleshanks blinked, and then he blinked again. “Pardon me?”

“Why yes, you old dandy. I have been told that the most delightful stories are being told on the daily around these parts, and how could I possibly miss them? You know I’d kill for a good story.”

The gentle smile on Skimbleshanks’ face made him think of younger, easier days. “I do know that. How wonderful! Mistoffelees will surely jump for joy. You just have to see what he pulled out of the hat the other day.”

“I am intrigued.” Bustopher gave Skimble a playful little shove, making the ginger tomcat laugh. “I cannot believe that you all survived so long without me bringing trustworthy advise on how to muck around with the humans. One would think the entire tribe is eating wind pudding!”

“We just might, Bustopher, we just might. Aren’t we lucky to have you?”

Oh, and what a good decision this would turn out to be, Bustopher was certain of that.

A little bit of vocabulary: a “cement mixer” is 1930′s American slang and basically is a synonym for a bad dancer XD And “eating wind pudding” is 1930′s London slang and means going without food! I just couldn’t help myself. Thank you for reading!

#cats the musical #cats 1998 #bustopher jones #electra #skimbleshanks #asparagus jr.#namethat-i writes

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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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Royal Pain (MYG x Reader)

[Masterlist]

Prompt: Whistle @castlebangtan Pairing: Ranger!Yoongi x reader Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance Words: 1.9k Summary: Feeling out of place in the Kingdom, you can only imagine a life outside the castle and your overbearing parents. With more than whispers on the winds your attention is captured by a bandit ranger. He goes by the name whistle, for his handcrafted arrows that let out a high pitched sound as the fly through the air.

You were a princess. Crown, servants, dresses, knights and all. Your daily itinerary included waking up early, getting dressed, tutoring, then you were to graciously listen to the civilians' problems and try to fix them. After all that, you would have the afternoon to yourself strolling around the gardens where you would take tea. When the evening came you would retire to the boudoir with your so called ‘friends’. It was just a title for the noble women you were obliged to entertain and solidify connections between their families and the royal family of Dawsbury.

Watching the sunset, and enjoying the cool breeze, as the soft sky was eaten away by the darkness. Namjoon had his arms full of books as he crossed the courtyard, he seemed to be surprised to see you still seated at your tea table outside. Trailing behind the scholar was the newest guard Jungkook; he had been an aspiring squire for many years, finally passing the exam and being knighted.

“My lady, it must be getting cold, you should retire inside before you fall ill.” Namjoon advised gently, you looked up to see him eyeing the courtyard.

“There have been a few attacks from Whistle lately as well,” Jungkook muttered, receiving a jab to the side from the lanky scholar. “I mean you have nothing to worry about my lady, please allow us to escort you inside.”

You nodded, walking inside. The walls adorned with portraits of relatives long passed, you hated every picture in the castle. The Dawsbury family, — your family — for generations were all uniform, each with the same features, but why were you different? Why did your hair have to be strikingly different in color, your eyes too? You didn’t fit in and it made you try harder in your studies just to appease your family.

You were to marry Lee Heejun, the handsome Prince who had been staying with your family since before you can remember. He was treated more like a family member than you were. “My lady, shall we escort you to the dining hall this evening?” Namjoon smiled

“No, I think I would like to take my dinner alone, I am quite drained from today.” You quickly excused yourself. Not ready to face another night at the dinner table, where your mother and father tried to strong arm you into marriage.

“Of course, we will let the king and queen know.” Namjoon smiled, shutting the door behind you. Sighing, you were finally alone, heading towards the candles to illuminate the area. There was a loud whistle piercing through the air. It’s him! You raced out onto the balcony. Trying to spot the famous bandit behind the signature whistling arrows.

Guards scurried around firing at a shadow on the roof. Alarmed by the approaching figure you ducked inside but heard something land on the balcony. There was almost inaudible panting as the intruder let out a soft profanity.

He snuck inside and you paused holding your breath, he was dripping blood over the plush carpet. His feet not making a sound, “looks empty, no one will be here for the evening.” he whispered touching the small items on the vanity. He sat behind the desk and hissed as he pulled out the arrow stuck in his side a groan slipping past his parted lips quietly. Your eyes had adjusted to the night faster than his. Footsteps were coming down the hall stopping at the door, as the man brandished a small knife.

Knock knock.

“Princess I brought your food,” The maid spoke, you called, the figure behind the desk froze and you hoped he wouldn’t attack you or your maid.

“I am not hungry, please come back later,” You said cheery, “I am just resting, I am sorry to bother you”

“Of course my lady,” the maid scurried off. He knew you were there so there was no reason to hide any longer.

“Are you hurt, sir?” You lit a candle and carried it over kneeling beside him, “Please let me see your side,”

“I am fine.” He wrapped his wound and stood up, you frowned standing and looking at him, “Do you know who I am?”

“You are Whistle right, the famous bandit,” you said hopeful, you thought he was pretty cool. Your father wasn’t a nice man stealing land and taxing everyone immensely, and you thought Whistle was doing good things for the community.

Even if you thought he was a bad guy and wouldn’t trust him with your life, the mystery and the things he did made you admire his abilities.

“Could I have some water?” he asked and you poured some from the nearby jug and he took it, swivelling it in his hand and sniffing it, “drink some first.”

“I didn’t poison it.” You scoffed drinking some and he smiled sadly. Flashing his ring which had a secret compartment open with residual powder.

“I know but I did.” you felt your body go limp and he threw you over his shoulder, wasting no time before taking off in the shadows of the night.

When you woke you were in a carriage racing through the forest, “My lady you have awoken,” it was Whistle he was sitting across from you the carriage surrounded by men on horses.

“Where are you taking me?” you demanded, embarrassed and angered that you were sound asleep whilst being kidnapped. “You take me back right now or my father will hurt you!”

“Sir we are being followed?” A voice called from outside the carriage.

“Ha! See they are already coming to rescue me and you lowlives will be killed.” You hissed at him, arms folding over your chest with a triumphant expression.

“We ditch the carriage. My lady?” Whistle held out his hand but you didn’t accept it. With a sigh he grabbed you by the waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

“You put me down!” You screeched, “put me down, you sleaze!”

“I could but you would be trampled,” He had climbed up the side of the carriage to the driver's seat. Once you were placed upright you slapped him in the face. He gritted his teeth holding back some choice words he continued, “After you, my lady.”

His voice was clipped and when you didn’t move he picked you up, dropping you on the horse. Whistle sat behind you as he and the carriage driver, both cutting the horses free and rode off.

“After all this, I never want to see you again,” you were pushed back into the bandits chest and the group moved quickly through the forest.

“Trust me my lady,” His body was tense. He seemed rather pissed and you were starting to get concerned, “After I deliver you, I will be out of your sight.”

They rode all night. To the point the exhaustion had taken over your form, but they didn’t stop. Almost falling off the horse, the bandits arms wrapped more firmly around your waist pulling you pressed against him. “Find us somewhere to sleep.” They nodded and before long you were speeding into a small clearing.

Sliding off the horse you almost collapsed caught by Whistle who took your chin looking into your tired eyes. The pinto butted his head against your shoulder and you turned patting him.

“Alright boy, I am taking the saddle off, have patience.” You were handed a small bucket with water from one of the men who smiled gesturing to the horse. Holding the bucket out the horse began drinking happily.

“Here is my bedroll, go to sleep,” He said, sounding exhausted.

“I cannot sleep on the ground!” He gave you an incredulous look making you wilt and sink onto the bed roll. Even if it was on the ground, the bedroll smelt like him. It was too dark to run away without getting yourself killed.

This became a routine of riding all day and making camp every night, you tried many times to slow them down but Yoongi always called your bluff. You had said you needed to go to the bathroom and he told you he would slow but he would have to come with as there were dangerous animals in the woods.

After that you started to comply, not trying to annoy him any more, he was losing his patience. Not wanting to complain, something about these men made it feel like they didn’t want to hurt you. He wasn’t the most talkative guy but something about him was caring he knew what you needed before you spoke. His hands outstretched with some food and a water skin.

Filling up on breakfast may not have been the best idea as the furious horse riding made you feel ill, holding it down the feeling soon went away. The men would sometimes talk as they rode and you had noticed among the men was the scholar Namjoon and the newest knight Jungkook.

Why were they here? Were they a part of this? You looked at them confused and assumed they had been undercover this whole time. What you didn't expect was the castle in the distance, perhaps you were just passing through town. However you were escorted directly towards the towering castle.

The closer you got the more your head grew dizzy, a pain behind your temples. Doubling over in pain almost resulted in falling off the horse. If it wasn’t for Whistle you would be becoming well acquainted with the ground.

“Hang in their princess,” His voice breathed in your ear, arriving in the innermost courtyard, you were assisted off the tall pinto and led into the castle. Upon entering you saw something that almost frightened you, on the wall was your portrait with the king and queen of Matlock.

You looked the same, the same hair color, eye color. There was a familiarity of the whole place. “I have returned the princess.” Whistle said “Thank you so much Yoongi,” The king laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for bringing our daughter home.

“I will take my rest now,” he bowed low to you and your parents. How could you forget them?

You were escorted to your room and more memories came back, your mother and father apologized and tried to hold back but you were quick to hug them and tell them you were remembering where you truly belonged.

It was the next morning you were heading through the corridors you knew every turn and path through the castle. Arriving at the dining hall.

“I wish Yoongi could stay with us,” your mother said, “He just got you back and was eager to catch up with you,”

“You two were betrothed, before you were kidnapped and well he thought it was his fault. So he has been trying to find you for a few years now wanting to bring you home,” your father sighed, “He seemed exhausted, I only hoped he would stay another night or two.”

“He was told by the princess that she never wanted to see him again,” Namjoon smirked down the table, “I guess he is taking it seriously.”

Without excusing yourself you ran from the dining hall through the kitchens and out to the stables where you saw him saddling his pinto.

“Yoongi!” you called, panting heavily from the frantic run through half the castle. “Where are you going?”

“I am following your orders, my princess,” he said softly facing the horse and you grabbed his hand and pulled it to your chest.

“I remember.” You breathed, wondering if he could hear how hard your heart was beating against your chest, “Not everything, but I remember somethings, and I think I need you to help me remember.”

“How am I supposed to help you my lady?”

“Never leave my side,” You muttered eyes misting with the idea of him leaving.

“And what if that doesn’t help you remember,” he took your chin in his hand and lifted your gaze to meet his, “What can I do to help you remember?”

You were about to answer when the pinto nudged Yoongi in the back, pushing him into you. A gasp left your parted lips and he leaned in kissing you softly, your hands buried into his hair. Mind flooding with memories of stolen kisses in the music room as he played your favourite tunes. Afternoons at the range sitting and watching Yoongi fire arrows into targets at obscene distances. The whistle piercing through the air.

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finrelia · 4 years ago

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I Always Told You I Didn't Like Knives

Prompt:

anonymous asked:

Could I request a Alex Danvers x reader where reader is a DEO agent and gets hurt on a mission so Alex becomes very protective and refuses to leave readers side?

Pairing: Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 1,782

Warnings: Angst. Blood/Violence. Minor swearing. Bad Writing.

A/N: Sorry If this isn't exactly what you meant when you meant,,, I didn't focus as much on the protective side of things. But!!! I hope you like it!!! Also, its REALLY long aha. Anyways, Enjoy! (Again, sorry that I changed it a little,,, I got carried away.)

Everything was okay in your life right now. You had a job you loved, in a city you loved, and a girlfriend you loved. Everything was okay. J’onn had sent you and Alex on a routine mission to check up on a new cadmus threat that surfaced. He mentioned a weapon that could stand as a threat to Kara, because they manufactured it with kryptonite in order to weaken her. So, since she was at risk, supergirl was ordered to stay on site at the DEO headquarters, much to her dismay. The location of the threat was a cadmus owned warehouse at the base of a mountain far outside of national city. Winn had picked up on the kryptonite signature which is what started this whole thing.

It was you, Alex, and a few recruits. Your squad was armed to the teeth, and alex had her gun (that she loved almost as much as you). You, however, opted for your knives, that you’ve been favoring for years. Alex had persuaded you to keep a gun in your holster just in case, though. She trusted you, and your skill, but she didn't trust your knives. Especially when the threat was a gun. “I’ll be fine, babe. I always am. I can take care of myself, you know that.” you said to her as she gave you a concerned look.

“I know, (Y/N) I just worry sometimes.” She responded with a sigh. You got up from your seat on the jet across from her, and planted a solid kiss on the top of her head as the plane touched down.

“I think it’s cute that you worry” you whisper, as your hand cups her cheek.

It took around an hour of scouting to make sure the warehouse didn’t come equipped with unnecessary traps, or mines. There were minimal guards outside of the base, which you found odd, but not odd enough to worry you. Alex was quick to take out the two men that stood watch over the side entrance of the massive concrete and steel building. You looked to the recruits, and used two fingers and a pointing motion to order them off to go secure the front entrance, and by the time you looked back to where Alex was, she was gone. Alright, I guess we’re going in. You thought, always impressed with your girlfriend’s audacity.

You slipped into the barely open steel door, your two knives gripped firmly in your hands, blade lightly resting against your forearm as you held them in a defensive position. Something didn’t feel right. Something in your gut was off. The power in the warehouse appeared to be non-functional. None of the lights were on, not even the emergency bulbs you saw that lined the walls inside. Your eyes adjusted to the new, dim light, and they rested upon Alex, who was crouching over a body around twenty or so feet from the door. You walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Alex?” you asked. She didn’t look up at you. When she responded her voice was cold, distant.

“They’re dead. The recruits. All of them. This was a trap set up by Lillian.”

You looked around the room. Littered on the cold concrete floor were twelve bodies. All wearing the black DEO standard-issue kevlar. You felt sick. You remembered distinctly ordering them to flank. They listened to you, followed orders. You slipped your knives back into their place in your thigh strap. “This is my fault. I told them to move to secure the front.” you said to yourself. Alex said nothing, just stood back up from where the body was.

“We need to get out of here. The people that did this could still be in the building.” She said cooly, her hand wrapping around your bicep, and pulling you to the door.

Before you could even take two steps, there was a mechanical thunk, followed by an electric whirr as the lights suddenly turned back on. Not just on- but full force, flood light bright. You instinctively brought your arms up to shield your eyes from the violent change, and Alex did the same. “What the-” Alex was cut off by the sound of gunfire. You were still blinded, and were too busy worrying about the recruits to memorize the layout of the boxes strewn about. Alex, on the other hand, was much more fortunate. Like always, she had everything down to a science. As soon as she heard the gunfire she was safe behind a cluster of metal barrels, never once having to open her eyes. She reached up to you, and pulled you safely down next to her.

As soon as you rested your back against the metal, your eyes adjusted, and your knives were in your hands. Bullets collided with the side of the barrel, grazing the metal and sending small sparks flying into the air. You looked to a stack of scrap metal, that was a risky ten feet away from where you were know, but going there would allow you to get close enough to charge and engage in hand to hand combat, in which, you had an advantage thanks to your knives. Alex gives you a nod, to acknowledge your idea. You duck down under the line of fire, and sprint to the metal. Before you knew it, you were safe, and closer to the threat. As you moved, you looked to the origin of the gunshots. “I spot four agents, all armed with semi-automatic rifles!” you shout to Alex.

“Alright! I’ll take the two nearest me!” she shouts back, holding her pistol tightly against her chest.

She poked her head and arms up above the barrels, and fired three quick shots, downing the two agents in question. The others, closer to you, focused their fire towards her, and she ducked down under the barrels again.

Noticing the opportunity, you ran out from behind your cover, and flipped your knives over, their blades pointing directly at the agent closest to you. By the time he noticed you advancing, it was too late. He fell to the floor, unconscious from the blow you dealt him. Using the hilt of your knife as a bludgeon. You moved from him, to his partner, who was aiming his rifle directly at you. Before he could fire, your knife sliced open the skin of his hand, which caused him to drop his gun. You kicked him in the ribs, and then in the head, to ensure he was out.

“Clear!” you shouted to Alex, who you heard rise up from behind cover. “I think I got them all. Must’ve been an extra guard detail. Still doesn’t explain what killed the recruits though, because four men couldn't take them out.” You said, confused.

“(Y/N) MOVE” You heard Alex scream. Your head whipped around to her, only for your gaze to be met by a massive man, easily a foot taller than you, standing within arms length. How didn’t I hear him??? You thought to yourself. You raised your knives, ready to react, when he lunged at you. There was a massive glowing green sword in his hand, likely the weapon you were sent to destroy, and, before you could move out of the way, It sunk deep into your abdomen, right above your left hip. You cried out in pain, Going limp against the blade. It ripped through your stomach, causing immense agony to ripple through your body. You felt blood begin to seep out from around it. The man released his grip on the handle, satisfied. You heard five responding shots, fired from Alex’s direction. The man collapsed in front of you, littered with bullet holes. You looked up from your stomach, hands gripping the blade protruding from your body, to Alex. She gasped, seeing your wound, and rushed over to you just soon enough to catch you as you fell weakly to the ground.

She set you down carefully and became panicked when she saw how bad it was. “(Y/N) IS DOWN. I REPEAT, (Y/N) IS DOWN!) she screamed frantically over the comms. “SOMEONE GET KARA HERE” she screamed through tears. “It's going to be okay, baby, everything will be okay.” She said softly to you, as your face paled, and your eyes lost focus. You could feel the cold ground grow warm as your blood pooled underneath you. You knew you were losing too much blood. That you might not make it. You swallowed dryly.

“I’m not doing so good, huh?” you asked weakly.

“No, no you’re not, but everything will be okay, I promise. I can't lose you.” Alex said, as she pulled your limp body into her arms. The world went dark as you heard her whisper into your hair: “I can’t lose you.”

Your eyes fluttered open. As they came into focus you realize you recognized the ceiling. You were in the med bay at DEO headquarters. You tried to sit up, only to gasp and cry out in pain, clutching at your side. Tears well up in your eyes, and you glance down to the source of your pain, and see a long line of red begin to blossom across a bandage that was wrapped around the length of your abdomen. There was a stirring sound next to you as Alex woke up, apparently having never left your side. “Oh thank god.” she says, shooting up to pull you into a hug. You winced slightly at the movement, and she released you with whispered “Sorry”s.

“It’s been five days. I thought you’d never wake up.” she says, choking back tears, as her hand gripped yours.

“I’m tougher than I look babe.” you say with a smile and a groan as you shuffled to get comfortable with where you were laying.

“I know- I know.” she responded back. “You really scared me back there.”

“Won’t happen again, I promise”

“It better not. Oh, and I’m not leaving your side until you’re healed.” She said sternly as she tightened her grip on your hand.

“Fine by me” you responded with a smile.

Alex leans over and presses a much-needed kiss to your lips. It was soft, and full of tenderness and care. You sighed into it, you missed the feeling.

When she sat back down, you looked to her, a smile on your lips, and on hers.

“You know-” she said with a raise of her eyebrows. “I always told you I didn’t like knives.”

You laughed as whole-heartedly as you could (without hurting yourself).

“I know babe, I know.” you said quietly as you felt her thumb caress the back of your hand. Everything was okay again.

#Alex Danvers Imagine #Alex Danvers #Alex danvers x reader #Danvers x reader #Angst #Supergirl #Supergirl fic #Supergirl x reader #supergirl fanfiction #Alex danvers fic #repost

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years ago

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Oktoberfest Effect

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: Town boys (drunk?) dare each other to venture into woods (Halloween night? [Oktoberfest]). Katniss saves Peeta (from peacekeepers? storm?) by pulling him into a cave for the night. (Drunk Peeta talks too much and is cuddly?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: Teen (for drunkenness)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mandelion82 for lending me her beta services, and being a generally awesome cheerleader! Thank you @567inpanem for the prompt, I hope it brings you joy! Thank y’all for reading!

Oktoberfest, originally from Munich, Germany, is a two week folkloric festival, celebrated between the third Sunday of September and the first Sunday of October. Copious amounts of beer get served worldwide to celebrate Oktoberfest…👀this fic doesn’t reflected the cultural richness of the festival and or what it represents!👀

Tags: In Panem AU; No Games AU; Not representative of Oktoberfest; Drunken Shenanigans; Thunder storms; Snarky!Everlark; Humor; Blink-and-you-Miss-it fluff. One Shot.

———————

Oktoberfest is one of my least favorite festivals in the small repertory of celebrations my District is allowed.

It’s usually held in the beginning of October, after the first showers of Fall, and tends to last all day long, severely cutting into my hunting time in the woods, which comprises the bulk of my family’s livelihood. My mother is a healer, but people used to struggle to pay for her services back in the day, so she stopped charging anyone; people gave her what they could: rations, produce from their squalid gardens, old clothes and such. You’d think people would pay with coins, now that things have improved for common folks, but some habits die hard.

It’s probably the same reason we keep observing a holiday that’s real meaning has been lost to Panem since before the Dark Days; people just know that at some point, Oktoberfest was celebrated around this time, and people ate and drank ale by the bucketfuls, so that’s what they do today.

By the same token, it’s the most popular festivity in District 12, since it’s the only day of the year in which drinking is sanctioned and even encouraged by the higher-ups of government. Trains come carrying ale, spiked ciders, and even hard liquor for the celebration. People like Ms. Ripper, who sells moonshine and white liquor in our black market, better known as The Hob, have free range to sell their wares openly, without suffering repercussions.

The meek, dull denizens of District 12 drink the spirits by the gallons, just for the one day, and pass out in the most unseemly places around town, like savages. If something had become clear to me with the passing years, it’s that people tend to enjoy drunkenness to soothe their woes away, so it’s natural everyone embraces Oktoberfest.

But, as with everything, things aren’t as bleak as I tend to see them myself.

“Katniss!” My sister, Prim, calls breathlessly from the maypole circle, beckoning me over with one hand, while holding a bright, yellow ribbon in her other, “There still are a few ribbons left!” She shouts excitedly, her meaning plain: she wants me to join in the festivities.

Normally I’d shy away from any and all activities that would have me interacting directly with the townsfolk. It’s nothing personal against them, I’m just not used to being touched by anyone, except for my family, and weaving ribbons around the maypole practically ensures I’d be brushing up against any number of strangers …but, there are worse games to play, and I could never deny my sister anything, not even this.

I make my way to Prim and reluctantly snatch up a pale blue ribbon from the ground. My sister’s smile is so bright I almost relax when the music starts, and the dancers take to moving in and out around the pole.

It isn’t as bad as I was dreading it to be. The music is lively; the fiddler follows the dancers while the rest of the band plays on the makeshift stage a few feet away, and the pole is relatively short and moderately wide, so we make quick work of braiding a pretty pattern in one go. Also, people are at a respectable distance from one another, and most everyone feels as awkward around me as I feel around them, so they just give a wide berth when they pass me by.

Prim and I are laughing when the song comes to an end, and we take a minute to admire the pole’s multicolored design.

There’s a line of smiling people waiting in the fringes to take the ribbons the opposite direction to unravel them and weave them together again.

I pull Prim into a hug and kiss her blonde head, fondly. “Let’s give somebody else a turn, Little Duck.” Prim narrows her eyes just a smidge; she’s almost 16 and doesn’t appreciate the nickname as much anymore. “Let’s put some warm apple cider into you, yes?”

Joy returns to her baby blues immediately. “Yes! We should go find Mother as well!” she says excitedly.

“Let’s go then!”

After finding our mother in the crowd, and haggling over three cups of cider and one bag of boiled peanuts, our mother suggests we go home early, before the party gets rowdy.

An unfortunate byproduct of Oktoberfest with all the unchecked drinking is men get loud, bold and stupid. Better to clear out before that happens, because while crimes aren’t tolerated— under the influence or sober—people tend to get belligerent when alcohol is involved.

President Snow died years ago, when I was Prim’s age. Many things changed drastically, like the abolishment of the Hunger Games, and a slightly better salary for miners, but the seemingly tolerant new government of Panem gives men a strange leave to criticize the Capitol while drunk…which technically, is still a crime in today’s Panem, just not as mortally dangerous anymore. Still, women try to haul their spouses home before they can say something incriminating and land themselves in prison.

Nothing can be done about the youngsters, though.

With women trying to keep a leash and muzzle over the men, the teenagers have unhindered access to alcohol and close to no supervision; although spirits are supposedly only served to people 17 and older, I wouldn’t put it past the vendors to look the other way if a group of merchant kids pass a few extra coins across the table, when nobody is watching.

If grown up men are loud, bold and stupid while drunk, teen and young adult men are even worse, and that’s without a gaggle of equally intoxicated girls egging them on.

This year— as in every Oktoberfest— the electric fence surrounding the district lays dormant and harmless, lest one of the hundreds of inebriated fools roaming the meadow fall into the wires and fry themselves upon accident.

Not that the Capitol cares if a few malnourished— probably discontented— miners fall dead during a district festival; people in 12 used to keel over from starvation all the time back under Snow’s regime, but those deaths were usually chalked up to any number of unrelated causes: pneumonia, heart weakness, black lung disease…anything, except starvation. But dying electrocuted on the very fence that’s supposed to keep us safe in our little district is unthinkable! The fence is there to keep dangerous beasts— and nutritious game alike— away from us.

District 12 remains that enduring jewel of Panem, where you can starve in safety! All we need is to drink the memory of our empty pantries away for another year, and everyone is happy. I sigh. At least they did away with the Hunger Games; now we have singing contests and trivia challenges playing on national television instead of the blood shed of innocent teenagers, which is certainly an improvement. Somehow it’s still not a fair bargain, but district folk will never complain about this particular trade; our children are safe, and we get to watch Capitol people make fools of themselves in front of everyone.

Mother, Prim and I make it home early enough to make a quick supper of roasted potatoes, salted fish and the last of the bakery bread I traded for this week. I make a mental note to bring down a couple squirrels to trade with the baker for more bread. The man is one of the few I can regularly count on to trade fairly with, so I always save him the best of my squirrels.

By the time dinner is being cleared off the table, I can hear the murmur of families returning home from the meadow. A surge of nervous energy takes over me. I start bouncing my leg restlessly, peeking at the old clock hanging on the wall.

“Are you going out again?” asks my mother. Her tone is light and her eyes focused on the heap of plates and forks she’s balancing in her hands. I know better than to believe she’s alright with me leaving again.

“For a while,” I answer.

“You could get stuck out there!” says Prim, clearly displeased.

“I’ve been working on a shelter, just in case. I’ll be back before dawn if I can help it,” I say, brokering no arguments.

“Be careful,” Prim mumbles, her blue eyes pleading.

I stand up from my chair and plant a kiss on the crown of her blonde head. “I promise. Now, go make sure Lady is secured before I leave. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas seeing a goat loose out there.” Not that anyone would cross me knowingly, but people get a lot dumber while drunk.

The sun set on the horizon long ago, but all my years sneaking around urge me to blend instantly with the river of dark-haired children trailing their dark-haired mothers and fathers all over The Seam. It certainly is an entertaining sight; the children are immensely happier than their parents, of course, bouncing and giggling, carrying in their spindly arms their Oktoberfest bounty of apples and freshly picked ears of corn stuffed into old burlap sacks, prizes given to them by the Capitol for every one of those silly games they played at the festival. At least they know supper won’t consist of tesserae bread tonight.

Reaching the fence will be trickier now that the meadow is crawling with blond merchants and peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter of the fence ‘for our safety’. A few miners remain, helping with the cleanup process to earn some extra money, but they are so few I can’t use our physical similarities to hide in plain sight. The merchants, meandering around the meadow, throwing nervous glances at the fence every so often, pretending they don’t care the thing is off, certainly hinders my ability to sneak around.

I wasn’t the only person who ventured outside the fence by any means. Historically, people have snuck under the barbed wire links in the past to steal apples and berries, when the hunger pains were scarier than the bears and wild dogs roaming the woods; necessity is a great incentive, it either makes you very brave or very reckless…but the few merchants still hanging out here only linger ‘cause an alcohol-fueled thrill holds them captive. Tomorrow, when they’re home nursing a head-splitting hangover, they’ll go back to cowering at the sight of the fence.

There’s a group of towheaded youngsters, singing obnoxiously, near the edge of the meadow.

I roll my eyes and try to ignore them for the time being. Meanwhile, I skirt around the maypole, pretending I’m admiring the workers’ effort, pulling the pole out of the ground to haul it into storage until next year. It’s a massive effort, but all I can do is lament how now there’s gonna be a soft spot in the ground for a while there, even after they fill it back with dirt and rocks.

I curse darkly under my breath when I startle at the sight of two peacekeepers passing by the merchant boys.

The singing stops while the townies nod politely at the albino buzzards. The boys stare at the peacekeepers until they disappear at a bend behind a big, tall retention wall where the fence stops into a jagged corner, and then the young merchants do something very peculiar…they start a round of ‘Row Your Boat’, holding up their fingers in some sort of countdown. Their voices are so shrill and out of tune, everyone around covers their ears and looks the opposite way.

I cock my head, studying the boys. They’re clearly intoxicated: red noses and ears, laughing at nonsense, and the biggest telltale, a bottle of white liquor passing around their misshapen circle. I realize, they’re not all teenagers. A few of them I recognize from my days in school, and I know for a fact two of them are married, and at least one of them has a child on the way already.

I roll my eyes at their childish behavior.

The peacekeepers appear again in the distance, and the singers stop their song abruptly. One of the older guys lifts his fingers up, showing all ten digits; he closes his fists quickly and opens them again, now showing seven fingers. They all giggle like lunatics, and I lose interest in them.

I round the cleaning crew closest to the fence, but suddenly, one of the townies stands up and starts calling at the top of his lungs, startling me.

“Hey, you! The girl with the braid!”

I whip around, because I’m 99% sure he’s talking to me! I’ve worn my dark, Seam hair in a single braid down my back for the last 8 years or so; it’s practical, really, to keep it that way. But that’s besides the point.

I wear my fiercest scowl on my face, and I get an uncomfortable jolt to the stomach when I realize I know this guy, the one waving at me while his companions guffaw around him, still intoning their childish ditty.

Peeta Mellark, the baker’s youngest son, a boy I owe the biggest debt of my entire life, and for the first time since I can remember, he’s meeting my gaze without wavering.

Debt or not, I have half a mind to stomp his way, grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest tree in retaliation. My mouth opens to ask him what his problem is, when out of nowhere a pair of peacekeepers pop up from behind the retention wall, walking in the opposite direction of the previous set of guards.

“Did you know it takes about a minute and a half to sing ‘Row Your Boat’ seventeen times?” Peeta Mellark chuckles, pink cheeks and nose, tilting his head towards the fence, and then his blue, sparkly eyes flit to the peacekeepers passing by; all the boys stop singing and nod at them in greeting. “Then, it takes like five minutes to sing something else, until we go back to Row Your Boat!”

These guards must’ve crossed the other ones at some point while out of sight without me noticing. If I hadn’t been distracted by Peeta calling out to me, I would’ve run right into them on my way to the fence, if not flat out caught red-handed crossing into the woods, and how would I explain myself then?! Everyone in District 12 knows of my poaching proclivities, peacekeepers included, but that doesn’t mean I should go flaunting around my intention to trespass. Panem is still not completely free and whether people should have the right to escape into the woods for sustenance is still a murky topic…I’m not too keen on finding out if hunting is still a punishable crime by today’s parameters.

I turn my eyes back to Peeta, but he’s already singing and joking with his buddies, and although he seems to be invested in whatever shenanigans they’re doing, I’m not too sure he’s oblivious to me. After all, he had to be watching me pretty closely to accurately guess I was close to being discovered.

I huff. My debt to Peeta just increased, and I have no idea how to start paying him back for it.

The peacekeepers are again out of sight; the merchants are singing again, and like before, people look away from their ruckus. There’s one boy with his fingers up…counting.

Peeta’s watching me; he lifts 4 fingers offhandedly and turns to face his friends.

Clever!

It’s a code, I gather.

They’re timing the passing of the peacekeepers into the ‘blind spot’ with one song, then start a different one to predict when the keepers will be back on the retention wall.

I shake my head to clear off the hint of a smile taking over my face. The silly drunks aren’t as stupid as I thought, I guess.

I make sure no one is looking my way; I also check the kid counting how many boats they’ve rowed, and leap closer to the spot I know there’s a loose link. I only have ten rows before the peacekeepers come back, so I make quick work out of the wires and slip to the other side fast.

The drunk boys break into hoots and cheers once I’m in the woods, and despite myself, I look in their direction just to make sure nobody saw me scurrying out. I’m partially hidden by a tree, and should be safe now.

The cheering isn’t because I slipped out of the districteffectively; the boys are either harshly ruffling Peeta’s hair, or slapping him on the back. They’re all laughing and crowing something I can’t make out, but soon I see the glint of white uniforms out of the corner of my eyes, and hide deeper into the woods.

I decide to check on my snares around here and head home right away. This was perhaps the worst entrance I’ve made into the woods, and too many know I’m out here as it is, but, if the townies are gonna act as a siren of sorts, better to use their system to my advantage.

Then…I need to figure out how to finally speak to Peeta Mellark and start getting my ledger even with him.

It’s completely dark by the time I reach my snares. I look at the sky and scowl. The stars are obscured, and the moon has a hazy ring around it. Clouds are rolling in too fast for my liking. Rain is coming, soon. So I make haste and run my fingers along the first wire I find.

My snare wields two rabbits, and I bag them without resetting the traps. I figure one of these will be enough to hold my family over for a couple of days. I can make some coins out of the second rabbit, which should be enough until Oktoberfest has died down and business resumes as normal. It’s a good plan if I say so myself.

A peal of thunder breaks in the distance, and I grunt lowly. This night keeps getting worse by the minute; it’s good that I’m almost back to my entry point. I head back to the fence, where I can still hear the faint howls of laughter of the merchant boys.

I’m 30 yards from the fence when another clap of thunder roars overhead, loud enough to reverberate in my bones; people beyond the fence shriek. I’ve only taken a step forward when lightning strikes, and I know the storm is hot on my heels.

The chanting of the merchants is getting louder. I never thought I’d think this, but it’s a relief, knowing I can count on them to distract the patrols while I sneak back into the district.

They’re egging and heckling each other like a bunch of rowdy hoodlums.

“Go on! Ten coins says you won’t last a second!”

“I say fifteen, if he brings back proof he was there!”

Somebody belches loudly, making the rest giggle like school kids.

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on finding my loose wire in the distance. I’m only a few feet away from the fence, but it’s dark and windy.

“Seeriouslee, though,” hiccups another, mispronouncing his words. “Gwhat should he…” hiccup, “bring?” Hiccup.

“Don’t know. A berry maybe,”

“Or a bear bite!” cackles another. They all laugh boisterously.

I wonder what they’re up to now. The fools! Don’t they know they should be running home for cover? The first raindrops are already falling.

“Fine! Okay…I’ll do it! But I wanna see all that money now!” slurs a voice I recognize, because I heard it calling me less than twenty minutes ago. “Pay up!”

No! Not him! I think, feeling my stomach drop. Whatever it is they’re doing, doesn’t sound very smart.

“Dis it?!” Peeta Mellark groans, “I’m taking all your money, so I can buy me a hen house! Dis not even ‘nough to buy me chicken feed!”

I hear grumbling nearby, and the clicking of metal, suspiciously similar to how coins sound falling on each other. I assume they’re shedding the rest of their money for Peeta to see.

“‘Kay…‘Kay…better now. Okay. Imma go now. Hold me money, Rye…and don’t spend any of it! I counted it… it’s me money! Don’t steal it, or I tell Lavender you were smooching girls a week before you got married!”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t steal me money!”

“Fine!”

“Fine! And don’t tell father ‘bout dis either!”

Somebody yells, “Mellark, stop stalling!”

“Yeah! Get—“ hiccup, “on with it al—“ hiccup, “…ready!”

“Goin’, I’m goin’!” I hear a few murmurs.

I swear, Peeta Mellark! If you set foot in my woods, I’ll shoot you in the toes!

I’m close enough to the fence to see a few lights flicking close by, but then another thunder drums, with a lightning to boot, and the rain droplets fall heavier.

“Wait! White helmets!” hisses someone, and even I drop to the ground to hide.

“Evenin,’ officers!” says Peeta.

I can picture him in my mind’s eye, smiling the same way he used to in school when covering for one of his friends to the teachers.

“Evening? It’s almost nine o’clock, boys!” says a woman. I’m not quite familiar with her voice, but I can surmise she’s one of the peacekeepers on patrol. “Curfew starts in 30 minutes, and a storm’s on its way. I suggest you all head to your houses.”

“Yeah, we will finish pickin’ up our garbage and head right home, officer!” says Peeta, all polite and pleasant like.

“Very well. You better clear out by the time we return, or we’ll have you spend the night in a cozy cell at the Justice Building,” says a gruff male voice, most likely the second peacekeeper. “Now, get on with the cleaning, gentlemen.”

There’s a chorus of voices murmuring stuff like “Right away, sir!” and “Of course, officer.” A lot of movement and hushed conversations go on for a minute or so while I lay on my stomach like an idiot.

I can only assume the peacekeepers are out of earshot when Peeta exclaims happily, “Aight! I’m goin’ in!”

The others start fussing and protesting, talking over each other frantically: “You can’t go in!”, “Are you crazy?! You heard them, there’s a storm coming!”, “Stop being a damned hero, Mellark! You already showed us up, by speaking to Everdeen!”

Peeta calls out, “Guys! Shut up! She’s the reason I wanna go in there! She ain’t back yet!”

I frown.

“Everdeen? Dude, she’s probably stalking a deer or somethin’…she’s fine!” says who I believe is his brother.

“Well…but what if she needs help? Shouldn’t some’ne go get ‘er?” He sounds concerned and strangely hopeful.

My stomach does a strange little flip at Peeta’s words, and then I have to shake my head to stop myself from being grateful for his concern. Outside of my family, Peeta Mellark seems to be the only person in this entire district who cares about me.

“No! That girl’s half feral! All them wild things in the woods are probably more afraid of her than we are!” says Peeta’s brother.

I find myself nodding in agreement, but scowling at the same time, because I’m not feral! I just hunt and enjoy the respect— bordering on fear— people have for me.

It doesn’t matter, though! Right now I feel almost as silly as they sound, and I just want them to take Peeta home, so I can climb back into the district and go home myself.

“I’m still goin’ in!” I realize Peeta is looking for the spot I used to come into the woods, and I hear muttering and hissing trying to dissuade him from coming in, but he’s already pulling the wire the same way I did, and a moment later, he’s wiggling his broad frame under the fence like an inchworm rolling on salt.

“No!” I huff under my breath, scrambling to get up, to push him back in the other direction, but then somebody is whispering harshly.

“White helmets!”

I’m not even surprised to hear Peeta’s so-called friends run away then. Coward merchants the lot of them!

A thunder booms above us, and I see Peeta struggling to pull through under the flash of the lightning that follows. It’s a miracle the peacekeepers haven’t seen him, splashing in the muddy pool forming rapidly under his body.

“Ugh!” I finally find my feet and practically throw myself on top of his arms, to pull him in.

Peeta shrieks, startled by my sudden appearance, so I slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Hush! Or they’ll find us!”

I pull him further out from under the wire. He seems to realize what I’m trying to do and relaxes his muscles, letting me guide him forward while propelling himself with the toe of his boots.

There’s a bush just two feet away from us. I drag him with me on all fours and crouch behind it until the peacekeepers’ flashlights disappear.

“Hi!” says Peeta.

“Shush!”

“Sorry!” he whispers…loudly.

“Quiet!” I hiss, bringing a finger to my mouth, as if I was dealing with a toddler instead of a 20-year-old man.

“‘Kay,” he responds, this time in an actual whisper.

I still roll my eyes at him.

Thunder and lightning and cold, stabbing rain fall from the sky unrelenting.

“Listen, we can’t stay here too long; we need to crawl back into the district!” I tell him, peeking from behind our hiding spot to make sure we are alone. I can’t see very far ahead, but it’s obvious the meadow is empty now.

“What?!” he calls loudly.

“For goodness sakes!” I mutter in frustration. “We need to crawl back into the district, or we’re gonna drown out here!” I’m having to yell so he can hear me over the rain.

“Oh! O-kay!” he says, smiling beguilingly at me. “I came to get you!” he yells.

I look at him, trying to convey all the annoyance I’m feeling towards him right now with just my facial expression, but I guess the moonlight is so minimal he can’t see me, because all he does is smile back at me.

“You’re welcome!” he yells after a second in a self-satisfied tone.

“For what?” I snap.

“For rescuing you, of course!”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Rescuing— you… what?!” I screech.

More thunder and lighting make it impossible to keep doing this where we are. And thanks to the storm, it’s too risky trying to crawl under the fence, too. Negotiating Peeta’s humongous body back under the railings in these conditions is just calling for trouble; we’ll either get found by the peacekeepers— if they’re still patrolling— or get hit by lightning; after all, the fence is meant to conduct electricity and fry whatever touches it.

I’m lost in my head, thinking about our options at this point, when a bright flash cracks overhead, so strong, it makes everything look like it’s day time, and I fall back on my butt for how close Peeta’s face is to mine.

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Wow! Has anyone ever told you, you have freckles over the bridge of your nose?” He asks, placing his two paw-like hands on my shoulders, pulling me back onto my haunches. “From close up, your face is as pretty as the night sky with all its coteslations!”

“Hmm…no—nobody’s ever said…” I huff. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” I tell him, pulling him by the hem of his coat’s sleeve. “I think you meant ‘constellations’ by the way. Alcohol really messes up your speech, you know.”

I think he says something, but I’m not sure, since the storm is swallowing up all the sounds around us.

The going is slow, because we have to wait for lightning to illuminate our way, and once, I realized we were straying onto a different path from the place I have in mind. Plus, I have to keep trying to untangle myself from Peeta’s grasp, so I can feel around the way with my feet. Peeta talks too much…nonstop, and I think it’s mostly the alcohol talking, but ugh! Would it kill him to just be quiet for a second?!

He’s awfully clingy for such a big man. I mean, he’s grown a few inches since we were in school, and he used to be stocky and broad-shouldered, even as a teenager, on account of him being wrestling champion two years in a row, plus having to handle those heavy trays in the bakery and whatnot.

I forgot where I was going with this?

Anyway, I hope the alcohol clears his system soon. He seems like an overgrown puppy at times, the way he trails after me and touches the end of my braid, which I guess he might be using as some kind of leash or rope to tether himself to me. Surprisingly, I don’t find it as annoying as I should. In fact, I find the warmth of his fingers… reassuring.

“Stop!” I tell him, when I hear rustling nearby I know isn’t from the rain.

A wild dog jumps in front of us, and I curse loudly. I should’ve grabbed my bow on our way out here, but I didn’t want Peeta to see my hiding spot; not that he’ll remember how to get to it, but he was able to find my loose chain in the fence, so…

I think the dog is coming after us. But before I can tell Peeta to run, he pulls me flush with his chest and somehow lifts me over his head like I weigh nothing. The dog is momentarily confused, and I take the chance to chuck one of my rabbits past it. The dumb animal looks at us curiously, but after a second, loses interest and goes for the easier, smaller prey.

I just got reminded of how strong Peeta is.

“Thank you!” I call out when he lowers me back to his chest. “You can let go of me now. The dog’s gone, but there might be more around.”

Peeta nods. His blue eyes are wide and alarmed, his cheeks, ruddy with booze just a few minutes ago, are drained of color. “Alright!” he gasps, clearly shaken.

I grab his arm and squeeze, leading him away from the spot.

It’s times like these when I miss my old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne; for starters, he would’ve had a bow on him…he would’ve shot and killed the dog. He would’ve had my back… but Peeta had my back this time, and he surely is no seasoned hunter, not even an outdoorsman, yet it was his quick thinking and sheer brute strength that saved my hide.

It’s also the reason Gale and I broke our partnership to begin with. Given the chance, he would’ve left Peeta stranded out here, instead of finding him shelter. But that’s his style, not mine, and Peeta has shown his worth twice tonight, inebriated as he is.

I release a sigh of relief when I see the opening of a burrow on the side of a small hill. It’s not truly a cave; it’s much too shallow to be called that, but, I found it about a year ago, and have been carving it out little by little for these kinds of emergencies, when I need shelter on the run, and the concrete little shack by the lake is too far, and I want to stay close to the fence, anyway.

“Oooh! Is this a cave? Is it abandoned? We ain’t gonna walk into some bear den or somethin’?” Peeta asks, bumping into my back when I stop to remove a few branches from the entrance of my little hiding spot.

“Get in!” I command him, and he obeys at once.

I take a few minutes to rearrange the branches at the mouth of the cave, just to keep the water from splashing inside, although we are soaked through our jackets.

“Sit,” I tell him, bumping into him again when I turn to feel round the wall of the cave for my provisions. The little hollow is only 5 ft wide by 6 feet deep, so there isn’t much room to wiggle for two people even if we were both my size.

Peeta has to hunch down as it is.

He’s quiet for the time being. My fingers touch the cool glass of the oil lamp I was feeling for, and right next to it, is a box of matches. I can finally breathe!

I make quick work of the lamp, and we are finally in better shape than we were a moment ago. Peeta blinks owlishly at the lamp, and I can tell he’s surprised, but blinded by the sudden light.

“Where are we?” Peeta asks in awe.

“It’s my emergency shelter,” I tell him, kicking a log from the back of the cave towards him. “Here, you don’t have to sit on the ground.” I tell him, watching him sitting almost directly in front of the entrance with his legs crossed.

“You have a shelter out here? I knew you were smart, but I didn’t know you were a genius!”

My cheeks heat up for some reason. “Nah. It’s just common sense. Too many experiences out there without one. Whatever. Intelligence has nothing to do with this, really.”

“So…do animals come in here?” he asks, turning his head around to study the place, not as nervously as before.

“No. It’s too small for a big animal’s den, and too big for a small critter’s burrow. It’s ‘me’ size because I’ve been digging it out little by little, and putting stuff in it for when I find myself in the same predicament we are in right now.”

Peeta shifts to his knees and slowly stands up, hunching a smidge, ‘cause the cave ceiling is too low for him. He lumbers to the log I offered him earlier and sits on it heavily.

“This place is great!” he states, looking at the crude shelving carved into the dirt where I keep the lamp, matches, a couple of cans of food I’ve agonized about leaving here because it feels like a waste, and things like spare arrowheads and fletchings; things that’d be useful in a pinch.

I have a knife hidden inside the very log Peeta’s sitting on, but I’m not about to divulge that secret. It’s my last line of defense, and since I don’t have my bow on me, I feel safer knowing there’s at least one weapon in the cave I can count on. I need to bring a bow here at some point; I just haven’t found a good way to camouflage…yet.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“Um, you can sit here,” says Peeta after a long moment passes in silence. “Plenty of room!” He motions to the log, scooting to free up some space.

It looks ridiculous, because there truly isn’t any room left on that log for me to sit. Peeta looks like a smushed rag-doll, sitting on a match box, and all the room he’s leaving next to him, is only big enough to accommodate a toothpick.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, with a reluctant smile. “I’ll stand for now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip guiltily.

“Yeah. Let me be a generous host.”

His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he rushes to say. “You wouldn’t have to be playing host in your lovely cave if it wasn’t for me. Sorry I was so stupid,” he says sheepishly, “I should’ve known you had it under control before I tried coming in after you.”

“Oh…it’s alright. It was…touching. All those things you said back there.” My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he says, sounding almost sober.

Another long minute goes by in silence. “Was that a wolf out there?” he asks suddenly. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought about kicking it, but I was afraid it would mangle up my leg, and then I’d get blood poisoned and since medicine is hard to come by, I probably would’ve lost my leg, and I’m not sure I’d be able to master a fake one…unless it was like a Capitol grade thing with robotic nerve connectors and the such… I read some man in District 3 figured out how to make prosthetics that you can control with a chip implanted in your brain!”

I find myself laughing at his nonsense. And he seems to enjoy my laugh, because he keeps saying outrageous things, I can’t tell if he’s just making them up on the fly, or if he really read about them somewhere.

I slide against the wall after a while, until I’m crouching close to the wet floor. Our clothes cling to our bodies, but most of the water has leaked off of us already, which is good, since I can’t light a fire inside the cave.

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, interrupting his musings about how chewing gum is inherently evil, since we don’t have dentistry accessible in the districts. The boy really talks too much!

Peeta cranes his neck to glare at my game bag, which I recently placed by my feet.

“What do you have there?” He asks, interested.

“A rabbit. But we can’t eat that raw. We’d get sick with fever if we try. I wouldn’t recommend it,” I tell him. “But I have canned fruit we can share,” I offer.

He makes an agreeing noise at the back of his throat. “I could eat.”

“Fine. Um…close your eyes for a second. And don’t peek!” I chide.

As with everything else I’ve commanded today, Peeta obeys without questioning, and soon I’m darting my hand into the end of the log, retrieving my knife.

“Open your eyes,” I say.

“Where did you get that from?!” he screeches, staring open-mouthed at my knife.

“Secret compartment,” I deadpan.

“Well…I hope you’re not planning on stabbing me with that thing. That blade is bound to be dull now that you hacked into that can with it.”

“What does it matter if the blade’s dull?” I ask, exasperated.

“It’ll tear up my skin if you try stabbing me with it!” Peeta answers, arms moving in exaggerated arches, “I much rather get a clean cut through, thank you very much!”

What’s wrong with this boy?! He’s acting like discussing his own potential stabbing is an everyday thing.

“For your information, I’m pretty adept at sharpening things! And…Eww! Gross! Why would I wanna stab you?” I shudder. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do wounds, and I don’t do blood.” I pull a face, shivering.

“You kill things for a living!” He rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Why, the inside of your bag is covered in dried blood from those bunnies right now!”

“Animals! I hunt animals! I don’t do people’s blood and stuff…gross!”

“You’re kinda squeamish for such a lethal thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up and eat your pears!” I shove the open can into his hands, and he stares suspiciously at me for a minute before digging in.

Peeta moves over a few more inches, and the toothpick space widens to a Katniss’-rearside-size spot. This time, I take his offer gratefully and sit down next to him. He passes the can to me when he’s done.

“You know…this is the first time we’ve done something normal together,” he says, pensive.

“It’s the first time we’ve done anything together, Peeta, period!”

Peeta gasps, and there’s silence for a second. “You’re amazing!” He says, staring and blinking at me while I chew, as if I truly was some extraordinary sight to behold.

I scowl. “Why? Because I fed you canned food in a torrential storm in the middle of the woods?” I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic.

“Yeah…” he says dreamily, then scowls, then shakes his head. “Nah! You’re just…amazing! Even my mother says that you’re a survivor and the only thing District 12 has of worth…a better version of Haymitch Abernathy!”

Haymitch Abernathy is District 12’s one, and only living, Hunger Games Victor. He’s also a grumpy hermit, and a drunk, and the richest person in the district. Like me, he was born in the miners’ sector, nicknamed the Seam. People say Haymitch used to be smart as a whip, and a looker too, but now he’s just a paunchy, middle aged man, with anger issues.

“Well, that’s not much of a compliment, is it?” I wrinkle my nose.

Peeta laughs, brushing his shoulder against mine…but that’s to be expected, he’s a giant after all, and the cave is practically a tall dresser.

“No, I guess it’s not. But father always gushes about your squirrels. Says you never hit the pelt. You always shoot them right through the eye!”

“Well, anyone can do that with enough practice.” I shrug.

Peeta snorts, and his knee presses against mine. “I wish I could do even half of the stuff you do. You’re an amazing hunter, and smart, and so pretty, and you can bring down deer, and the way you are with your sister…well, my big brothers have never been doting with me as you are with Primrose.” He sighs, looking at the flickering flame of the oil lamp. “You are something else!”

“I— that’s not…” I’m frustrated and embarrassed, so I snap, “I wouldn’t have been able to do, or be, any of those things without your help, so…there!”

He scoots closer to me. His body is strangely warm, even under the layers of wet clothes. There’s bewilderment in his blue eyes, and for some reason, I can’t look away from the way his hair is all matted to his forehead. He looks boyish. Kinda cute.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a small voice.

I chuff. “Well, it was like today,” I start, leaning back, averting my eyes. He smells of spirits, but weirdly enough, I’m not repulsed by the scent. “You called out to me in the meadow, and I was about to rip you a new one, but then I realized you were trying to help me. Then, you save me from a wild dog, by doing something as simple as lifting me over your head, like I weighed nothing.” I feel small, all of eleven years old, and the fact that I’m wet to the bone and cold to the marrow doesn’t help my case. My voice comes out tiny, “You fed me when we were kids. I’ve never been able to even thank you for that!” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling, and blink some 28 times to keep from crying.

Peeta sidles up against me. “Oh, Katniss,” he says low and reverently. I realize with a jolt, that it’s the first time he’s said my name. “You’re talking about the bread when we were kids?” His eyes glass over. “You can let that go now… after saving my ass tonight from the storm and the peacekeepers, I think you can count us even.”

“How can you say that?” I demand, “You keep saving me, and I don’t know why?!”

“Really?” he asks, cocking his head sideways, scrunching his face, and shutting one eye like he can’t quite see me clearly with both eyes open; his tone isn’t malicious, just surprised. “You know why…at least, I think you should,” he says, shrugging and leaning closer. “I thought you’d notice how all of my friends were roasting me because I finally said something to you, and all I said was something lame about Row Your Boat.” He chuckles. “Fifteen years I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you, and when I finally do, I call you ‘ Hey, girl with the braid’ like an idiot!” He practically leans into me.

“Fifteen years?” I ask, bewildered.

“Yeah…” he trails off, his ears turning cherry red. “I seem to have harbored a crush on you since the first day of school, when we were five.” He slumps back against the wall, and suddenly I wish he was still draped over me, warming me up.

“Really?” I ask, because this story seems far-fetched.

“Oh yes! It’s a whole thing! Me being a goner from the moment I heard you singing that very first day…remind me to tell you all the gory details some day.”

“You betcha,” I say, amused.

“I’m sorry I’m such a dork, but hey! At least imma buy me some chickens to sell eggs, and save, to buy my father’s bakery one day, and then I’m gonna ask you out on a date or somethin’.”

“Uh— what? Really?!” I chuckle.

Peeta yawns. “Yeah, Imma take you somewhere nice for a picnic, like Victor’s Village or something, and I’m gonna bring good bread this time! None of that burnt, soggy crap I threw at you when we were kids, but real, freshly baked bread. With butter. And probably canned pears, ‘cause those are my favorites now!”

“Okay,” I tell him, not completely sure why I’m agreeing to this. After all, I decided a long time ago I was never getting married or having any children, at least, not as long as the Hunger Games loomed over me; I won’t be stringing Peeta along either. Gale accused me of doing just that once, which I don’t think I did? The accusation still stung.

Right now, it feels nice to think I could go on a date with this crazy merchant boy; and who knows?!

“Buttered bread sounds nice,” I say, sinking next to him.

“This is nice!” Says Peeta, sleepily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah…it is,” I agree, realizing just how steady and warm his arms are, even encased in wet clothing.

“Will you go out on a picnic with me, then?” He asks hopefully, yawning again. His eyes drooping with sleep.

“I think I might,” I tell him. I haven’t felt this safe in anyone’s embrace since my father died when I was 11 and I stopped trusting my mother. “I think I will,”

I’m beginning to think that the alcohol fumes clinging to Peeta have gone to my head, and left me as simple minded as all the intoxicated people back home, maybe I have it wrong, and Oktoberfest does have its charm, because despite myself, it feels right to indulge in that fantasy tonight. After all, Peeta was the only person in the district back then, that cared enough about me and my family dying of hunger, to do anything about it. He gave me bread he purposely burned for me, all he gained was a bruised eye from his mother, and my inability to repay his kindness, for his generous gesture.

“Good! Just a heads up, though, I’ll prolly propose to you at that picnic, ” he says. His eyes are already closed, and I roll mine in response. “What you think my odds are of you saying yes?” He snuggles up to me, his head falls onto my shoulder.

“The odds might be in your favor,” I tell him softly; I’m not so sure I say that to humor him, though. I am really tired, and sleeping in his arms does sound like a luxury right now, so I’m gonna blame it on the ‘Oktoberfest effect’ in the morning. Plead sleep depravation insanity or something. “Night, Peeta,”

He mumbles a response, which turns into a slow snore.

I close my eyes, smiling.

I’ll indulge in the drunken ramblings of Peeta tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and if the saying is right, the sun shines brightest after a storm…maybe it’s time I bask in the rays.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #autumn #prompt

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reylo-solo · 5 years ago

Note

Ok so Concept/Prompt: Ben and Rey’s baby daughter saying “dada” first?

Okay so I may have written this lil thing sometime after midnight last night. Enjoy!

“Mama. Can you say ‘mama?’ Ma-ma!”

“Mmm-mm—”

“Mama. So close, my love! Come on, say ‘mama!’”

“Mmmm-pbbthhh!”

Rey wrinkled up her nose and swiped the sprayed spittle off of her face with her arm, casting a look of bemused doubt at her daughter’s charming face.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, you know.”

She looked up to see Ben leaning against the doorframe, handsomely arrogant in his repose. He had that smirk on his face—the one that almost always made Rey question whether she wanted to smack him or kiss him in order to remove it. Normally she went for the latter option, but there were times he enjoyed testing her limits on that theory.

Carefully, Rey set their daughter back down onto her play pad. Instantly the infant reached up to grab one of the many plush stars that dangled from the arch of the pad. It jingled and crinkled as she squeezed and shook it in her small but mighty fist. Her chubby legs kicked ferociously with excitement.

“It’s going to be her first word. I know it will be,” Rey argued quietly. She may have been speaking as much to herself as she was to Ben.

“I have to politely, and affectionately, disagree, sweetheart.”

He took a seat on the padded floor beside her, crossing his long legs with ease. Rey watched him for a moment as he smiled down at their child. To see such tender love in his face and to know it was as fierce and everlasting as her own filled her heart with warmth. Their child would never know loneliness, or a life without love.

“And why is that?” She asked, deciding that yes, she loved him enough to take his bait, for the millionth time.

“Because,” he answered simply, “her first word is going to be dada.”

“Like hell it is!” Rey cursed.

Ben raised his eyebrows, staring pointedly in her direction.

“Oh! Sorry—like heck it is,” she corrected herself and gently rubbed the small belly of her daughter. “You didn’t hear that, did you, my little love?”

Their daughter babbled at her toy.

“That will not be her first word!” Rey bantered, pointing her finger at him.

“Oh, but it will be,” He smirked, and kissed the tip of her finger. “Trust me.”

She pulled her hand away and narrowed her eyes at him, though the corners of her mouth fought off a smile.

“She’s been trying to say mama for days now. And in all that time, she hasn’t even said so much as ‘da’, which is a pretty common term for babies,” Rey said matter-of-factly. “So what makes you so confident?”

“Who said anything about plain old confidence?” Ben quipped. “Maybe it’s just an intuition.”

“Well, your intuition is wrong.”

“Is it? I had an intuition about you once, you know. And it turned out to be right, even though you doubted it.”

“That does not apply here! Are you trying to use our love story to win this argument?”

“Depends. Is it working for me or against me?”

“Against you. Very much against you.”

“Damn. I thought it was worth a try.”

“Nothing is, when your argument is just plain old wrong.”

Rey leaned over their daughter and gently tickled the little one’s belly, making her squirm and squeal in delight.

“Yes, Daddy’s wrong, isn’t he? Isn’t he? Yes he is! We know he is!” she cooed.

Ben chuckled—a soft, warm sound that Rey loved, much like the laugh of her daughter. She smiled affectionately at the cherubic face of their wondrous creation.

She felt Ben’s fingers skirt along the side of her throat, pushing her loose hair back to tuck it behind her ear. Goosebumps erupted down her arm and her heart soared in her chest. When he spoke to her, his breath was a warm current that purled along her sensitive skin.

“Shall we make a bet?” He asked temptingly. “Who do you think I can make say daddy first: the baby, or you?”

Heat bloomed in her face and she smacked him playfully in the chest. He made an exaggerated noise of injury and fell backwards, grasping her wrist so he could pull her down onto him.

“Benjamin Solo,” she chastised as she loomed over him. “Resorting to bedroom talk? You must really be nervous.”

“Never.”

“Come, now. Just admit what you already know,” Rey purred. She ducked her head to plant three carefully-placed kisses down his throat to his clavicle. “She will say mama first.”

“Mm...in your dreams,” he sighed happily.

“‘Dada’ isn’t even in her sights yet,” Rey teased, plucking at his loose black sweater. “I’ll have her saying rhinoceros before she ever says ‘dada.’”

“Oh, you’re cruel, woman,” Ben grinned beneath her.

Without warning he grasped her by the waist and pulled her over him as though she weighed hardly a pound more than their baby. She squealed once before she felt the floor at her back and saw Ben looking down at her victoriously. That rogue grin and those dark eyes sent her mind into a tailspin, and she felt inexplicably breathless.

“But I can be cruel, too,” he murmured, ducking down to nip at her ear lobe. “And she will say dada first.”

“She will not say dada!”

With deft fingers she ran her hands up his sides, tickling him so that he squirmed and retracted on instinct, struggling to maintain his hold on her.

“She will!” He argued through tinkling laughter.

“No!”

Back and forth they fought and flirted, rolling on the floor, all while their daughter watched and giggled at their absurdity. She, with the power to end their argument once and for all, stuck her tiny tongue between her lips and blew a loud raspberry between laughs.

When Ben and Rey discovered that they were entertaining their child immensely, they continued their performance with gusto. It went on for several minutes more until finally, when her parents were nearly out of breath, the child blurted out a noise that sounded strangely recognizable.

“Da-da!”

The new parents froze in place and locked eyes with one another.

“Did she just—”

“No...”

“She said ‘dada,’ Rey. Dada.”

“She did not!”

“Oh, but she did!”

Ben practically jumped to get to their baby, happily hoisting her up in the air above his head so that she squealed in delight.

“Dada! You said dada!” He exclaimed.

He hugged her to his chest, where the little baby happily slobbered on his sweater.

He heard some sniffling and quickly turned to look at Rey. She had tears in her eyes and a shaky smile on her face, though it was half-obscured by the hand she had employed to wipe at her nose.

“Rey, are you—are you crying?” He asked worriedly, scooting across the floor to get to her, baby still in hand. “Why are you crying? Is it because she said dada first?”

Rey shook her head hard. “No, no; it’s not that. I’m crying because she just said her first word,” she explained through a bubbling sob. “She said her first word, Ben.”

His expression changed as the weight of it landed on him. This was no longer just playful teasing between two new parents. His daughter had just spoken her first technical word, and it had been his name.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered, holding their baby girl aloft and looking at her like she was glowing from within. “Oh my god.”

Rey couldn’t withhold the laughter that erupted from her chest. It wasn’t what she’d been striving for, but the moment remained perfectly blissful all the same.

As Ben embraced their daughter in a hug, she embraced the both of them. Her family. Her life. Her everything.

#sorry it wont let me put a keep reading break for some reason #reylo fic #my fic #reylo prompt #reylo baby #reylo #long post #reylo fanfic

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lupinsx · 5 years ago

Text

Stay With Me

masterlist

Request: hi!! i really loved your first fic!!😙 i was wondering if you could write one where the reader is a slytherin, and she’s like pretty good friends with draco. she gets an owl one day with some bad news about her family (you can decide what lmao) and she acts like she’s ok at first but she leaves the great hall rly early while draco watches and he goes to help. you can choose how it ends hehe

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Draco are the best of friends. When Y/N hears news that will change her life, it’s up to him to help save her from her grief.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of death (nothing graphic though).

a/n — Thank you for requesting! I hope I did justice to this prompt lol.

——————————

For a moment, everything was nice.

It was late in the evening, and the Slytherin common room would be deserted if it wasn’t for you and Draco occupying the space. He sat lazily on the mossy coloured couch while you sat next to him horizontally with your legs draped over his lap, your back leaned against the armrest. The closeness between you two was almost second nature, being too overdone for it to be given another thought.

It was comfortable, that’s all. Just normal behaviour between friends.

Or at least, that’s what you say to yourself.

“And that damn bludger almost knocked my head off near the end! It was a miracle I managed to duck on time,” Draco beamed, using hand gestures as he spoke to walk you through the events. Earlier that day, Slytherin won a Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, and Draco couldn’t be more ecstatic. You nodded your head in agreement as you kept your head low, focusing on the essay on your lap which needed to be completed.

With a boastful smile stretched across his face, he continued, “It was an amazing catch! The Ravenclaw seeker got close to the snitch, but I was clearly faster.”

It was silent for a moment as Draco waited for a response. You were too engrossed in the Transfiguration assignment in front of you that you almost forgot he was there, but a hand waved in front of your face brought you back to reality. Putting away the parchment with a sheepish grin, you turned your attention towards him.

“Sorry, I was finishing up my paragraph. But yes, you were amazing out there. I watched the whole thing, remember?”

His face reddened slightly at your praise, but you failed to notice under the dim candlelit lighting. Suddenly, a realization hit you; Christmas break would be approaching very soon. The mere thought warmed you like a nearby fire, and you found yourself getting giddy at the thought.

“Draco! Christmas break is in one more week. Can you believe it?” you asked, eyes wide in excitement like a child receiving candy. He nodded vaguely, unable to show much happiness at the matter.

You found immense joy at the idea of Christmas. While your half-blood and pureblood parents are comparable to a nasty old Grinch, your muggle grandmother makes the holidays entirely bearable. She frequently bakes with you, blasts old Christmas tunes whenever your parents are away, and puts on heartwarming films to enjoy together every night and morning.

These little traditions are practically the only reason you enjoy coming home. Your parents are strong upholders of the snotty rich family stereotype most Slytherins seem to bear, but having someone at your house who loves you for you and not your possible potential makes you extremely grateful.

Unfortunately, your best friend didn’t have that same luck. Draco’s parents are to a similar degree of cruelty as yours, but the lack of comforting adult figures at his house makes him loathe coming home for the break more so than you would.

It was only the prospect of seeing you after it what made him survive throughout the holiday season.

Frowning at his sudden quietness, you grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze. Your lips stretched into a comforting smile, not knowing what else to say to ease his mind.

He gave you a reassuring glance in response, and all was quiet for a moment. Merely the delicate crackle coming from the fireplace was heard as you unknowingly kept his hand in yours. After a minute’s time, you pulled your arm back and swung your legs off his lap.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” you said, dragging him up by his arm. He chuckled at your slight manhandling of him as you picked up your essay and waved goodbye to him. You then headed to the girls dormitory, while he went the opposite way.

That night, memories of candy canes, gingerbread houses, and the Home Alone series occupied your thoughts, leaving you in a blissful dreamland for the remainder of the night.

~~~

The next morning, you found yourself being awoken by the loud shuffling of feet outside your door. Judging by the streams of light pouring through your drapes, you knew it was time to get up.

Your morning routine didn’t take longer than 15 minutes. Once you deemed yourself ready for the day, you headed to the common room, only to see Draco leaning boredly against the portrait hole. Upon seeing you, amusement flickered briefly in his eyes.

“Race you to the Great Hall,” he spoke quickly, breaking out into a sprint before you could even respond. With a small groan and a grin threatening to spread across your mouth, you ran after the platinum haired boy.

Typical Draco, you thought. When will I ever catch a break.

Although his long legs and early exit gave him a lengthy advantage, you managed to catch up to him considerably fast, and you two crashed into the Slytherin table at nearly same time. An airy chuckle escaped his lips as you panted heavily, taking a seat as well as a large gulp of water. The pair quickly received eyes on them for their abrupt entry, but all stares were disregarded upon the sight of food in front of you.

You licked your lips in delight and swiftly reached for the French toast, ignoring the loud entrance of owls delivering the morning mail. You almost didn’t notice one approach your table, and certainly not when it swooped next to your head, but a small tap on your shoulder redirected your attention to the letter laid in front of you.

Curiously enough, you weren’t even expecting any mail.

“Who’s it from?” asked Draco nonchalantly as he scarfed down his scrambled eggs. You shrugged your shoulders and picked up the letter, impatiently unwrapping it without paying mind to front cover.

Dear Y/N L/N,

I hope you’re currently studying for exams or completing your coursework. Remember, I expect nothing less than Outstandings in every class.

Of course. Typical of mom to start off a letter addressing grades. No ‘Hello my daughter’ or anything.

I’m sending this letter to tell you that your grandmother has passed away. It was inevitable, really. She was getting quite old. But the burial was last Wednesday, so that’s done and over with. Our annual Christmas and New Year’s parties will resume as normal, so don’t you worry. Anyways, resume your studying.

Yours Truly,

Mrs L/N

Grandma… is dead?

Your knuckles gripped tightly onto the paper, your eyes skimming through it again and again to confirm you read it accurately. Eventually, the tears developing prevented you from seeing it clearly, and you simply crumpled up the letter and shoved it in your robe’s pocket.

You were alone now. All alone.

It took a minute for you to digest the information. You sat silently, making no effort to pick up your fork or look up from your lap. You couldn’t believe she was really gone from your life. It seemed like it was almost yesterday when you two were belting out Jingle Bells while icing sugar cookies.

And now, she was gone, just like that.

Standing up from your spot, you looked up to the ceiling to quickly diminish the water in your eyes. Once relatively dried, you faced Draco, who stared up at you with concern lacing his features. He was no longer focused on the meal in front of him, nor the conversations going on around him.

Forcing a small smile on your face, you croaked, “I’m feeling a little full. Just going to get some fresh air.” Without letting him reply, you rushed out of the Great Hall. Your jaw was clenched to prevent you from sobbing immediately as you ran out the doors and towards the Black Lake.

Soon, you found the spot under a tree which you had always claimed to be your own. It had the perfect view of the lake in front, so you often came here to de-stress, study, or simply hang out with Draco. Today, however, it was used as your crying corner, away from the eyes of your peers and noise of people chatting nearby. It was secluded.

And perhaps, that level of isolation was exactly what you needed to break down.

So, you cried. And cried. You sobbed louder than a newborn baby, and produced more tears within a minute than you have done within a year. You were grieving for the only adult figure in your life you ever found solace in.

What felt like hours of misery turned out to be mere minutes, which was soon interrupted by a figure dropping down next to you and pulling you to their chest. Although the puffiness of your eyelids and tears pooling above it blocked your vision, the smell of cedar wood and vanilla made you well aware of Draco’s presence. He cradled your upper body as you cried into his chest, gripping onto his shirt in tight fists.

“Draco, s-she — my grandma, she’s g-gone,” you hiccuped between your words. He didn’t respond, simply brushing the hair from your face and rubbing your back while trying to hush your cries.

It took a long while, but eventually, the tears had ceased and the whimpers were quiet and minimal. You simply took in Draco’s scent as he protectively held you. Upon noticing your silence, he finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve this.”

You released a pathetic chuckle, eyes looking empty as you dismiss the last part. “But it still happened. And now, I’m all alone.”

Immediately, Draco pulled you from his chest, keeping you in his arms but now facing him. He stared into your eyes with an unreadable expression and carefully remarked, “You are not alone. I’m here for you. Always.”

His response left you with a small grin tugging on your lips. You felt grateful to have a friend like him in your life, putting up with you no matter the circumstance. But as quickly as the thought came, it was replaced with the looming reality of what’s to come next week. You would have to come home for Christmas and endure constant neglect and judgement from your parents. Fear washed over your face in an instant as your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Noticing the change of expression, he moved his hand to your jaw to hold the side of your face. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter now love?”

“I’m gonna have to come home for Christmas,” you spoke with quivering lips and a shaky tone. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes once more, but Draco caught each one and wiped them from your cheek with delicate strokes of his finger.

“No, Y/N, you won’t. Not this year, at least. You can come with me to my house, or I can stay with you at Hogwarts. Either way, I am not leaving you alone.”

“Y-you’ll stay with me?” you asked tentatively. You and him both knew how much you needed him at a time like this, but his understanding without your spoken words left you feeling a certain type of admiration for the boy.

Just as you did yesterday, Draco squeezed your hand in a reassuring manner before mumbling, “Of course I will.”

He then left a gentle kiss on your forehead, spreading warmth to every corner of your body. “I promise, Y/N. I won’t leave you. Not now, not later, not ever. I will always stick by your side.”

——————————

a/n — I had lots of fun writing this, despite it currently being an ungodly hour. Thank you again for requesting and let me know what you think!

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco one shot #draco malfoy one shot #draco fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter one shot #writing #my prompts #draco x reader imagines #draco malfoy imagines

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giant-sketches · 5 years ago

Text

A Little Anxious

A BIG thank you to @crystalk17 for the wonderful prompt that inspired this short side. I really liked their idea and while I changed a few thing, the overall concept remains the same.

In this story the Light Sides are giant-sized and the Dark Sides are tiny-sized. Anxiety is paranoid that if he doesn’t act soon he will vanish from the mindscape and seeks out Thomas to beg for his very existence.

This story includes 3 sketches and 1 super surprise I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2372

Disclaimer: crying, almost being stepped on, panic, self-hate

For a long time now Anxiety had been observing the movements of the giant Light Sides as they interacted with Thomas. It always looked like a lot of fun to talk about their day smiling and laughing. He wanted to do that too, but he wasn’t like them. He was one of the tiny Dark Sides Thomas didn’t express often. Sometimes Thomas would go a long time without feeling anxious and Anxiety was beginning to feel like his presence wasn’t needed in the mindscape.

What would happen to him if he was forced to vanish completely? Would he be instantly forgotten like he never existed in the first place? Those thoughts haunted him each day as his paranoia grew into full blown panic. He had to take action! One night Anxiety formed a plan to confront the creator of the sides, Thomas, personally. Cautiously, he placed his ear to his bedroom door and listened intently. He had to make sure the coast was clear before sneaking out. Usually the sides were summoned by Thomas himself, but at times you could force a summoning by diving into his dreams.

The dream pool was located closest to Logan’s room at the end of the hallway. After confirming the hallway was void of giants, Virgil gingerly opened the door and stepped out. Before moving he looked both left and right down the hall to double check his surroundings. Then he bolted down the corridor as fast as his legs could take him. He flew right past Patton’s door and was about to pass Roman’s when two voices caused him to stop.

“I don’t see why we can’t come to a sort of compromise on this!”

“There’s nothing to compromise on is my whole point.”

It was Logic and Creativity bickering per usual. They were like cats and dogs sometimes when it came to what they thought was best for Thomas. Usually, Anxiety found their quarreling amusing, but when he was about to be stomped on not so much. The giant sides hadn’t taken notice of Anxiety standing in the hallway as Creativity started walking backwards to keep arguing with Logic, who had stopped at his door. Anxiety ducked in fear and braised himself! Shockingly as Creativity's boot reached the floor it landed beside Anxiety, barely missing him.

“We’ll continue this discussion in the morning.”

“Fine, but just know I could go on all night if need be!”

Anxiety continued to lay on the floor shaking. He was too scared to listen any further to the giant's ramblings and only stayed put until both had returned to their rooms for the night. That had been way too close. Anxiety was starting to lose his nerve about this plan of his. He was starting to regret passing up the idea of just possessing one of the giant sides like Deceit and Remus do and going to talk to Thomas in disguise. Sure he’d never done it before, but they made it look pretty easy. No, no he couldn’t do something so dubious, not when he was trying to win Thomas over. He had to be himself for this to work.

“I have to keep going...even if I’m scared, I’m more afraid of disappearing.”

Anxiety struggled to his feet, but managed to keep walking meekly towards the dream pool. Once there he jumped in without hesitation. There was no going back now. Gradually, he spread his energy outward into the surrounding environment to instigate Thomas’s lingering anxieties and cause him to wake up. Jolted awake from the sudden surge, Thomas flung himself upwards in a cold sweat.

“What was that?” he huffed.

“Sorry...that was me.”

Anxiety had succeeded in his plan and was now standing on top of Thomas’s nightstand. Thomas was stunned to see the tiny person and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“Am I still dreaming?”

“No, I woke you up. I’m one of your sides, Anxiety to be exact.”

Anxiety forced a smile in order to show he was friendly, but on the inside he was terrified.

“You’re my Anxiety? Why are you so small though?”

Before he could answer Thomas reached out his hands to lift Anxiety closer to his face for a better look. Anxiety flinched at the sudden movement, but he didn’t sense any hostility from Thomas and remained calm. Was this going to work? What if Thomas hated him and wouldn't listen to his plight? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was beginning to fall apart as all his uncertainties about his existence surfaced. Was being so close to Thomas causing him to feel vulnerable? Tears quickly flooded his face in response to these new emotions.

“Wah! What’s wrong Anxiety? There’s no need to start crying, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. You’re safe here!”

Safe? Was he really safe? He didn’t even know what that felt like. Anxiety had gone his whole life believing he was unwanted and despised. Was Thomas now telling him that wasn’t true?

“Yo-you won’t make me vanish?”

“Vanish! Of course not, you’re a part of me just like all the other sides.”

“But I thought as a Dark Side I was just a hindrance to you. After all I’m this size because you don’t express me that much.”

“Is that why? Sure it’s not very fun when those guys show up uninvited, but you’re all needed. I need to learn those hard lessons in order to be a better person. You help me do that Anxiety.”

“I-I help you?”

“Yeah, in fact you may be able to help me with something right now!”

“Really? I will if I can.”

Anxiety was happy at the mere mention of him being helpful to Thomas. He listened intently with twinkling eyes.

“Okay, so I want to help with a local production of Red Riding Hood at the park downtown, but I’m not sure what I should volunteer for. I have a background in stage management, but I also like the idea of helping make the set pieces. Logan says I should go with stage management since I have prior experience, but Roman wants me to have fun with my more creative side and help with the set. Patton says either is good, but that doesn’t really help me decide. What do you think I should do?”

That was a lot of information to take in all at once. Were those the names of the other sides? Based on their answers Anxiety could infer that Logan was most likely Logic and this Roman person was definitely Creativity. Patton must be Morality by default then. Was this what Logic and Creativity were arguing about in the hallway? He’d never heard their names before so it was a little confusing, but he thought to himself on what would be the best option.

“Are you playing a part in this production?”

While Anxiety didn’t know a whole lot about Thomas, he did know he was an aspiring actor.

“I am, I’ll be playing the part of the wolf that eats the grandmother and tricks Red Riding Hood.”

Thomas was going to play the villain, that was unexpected. Anxiety always thought of him as a hero type that saw the world in black and white. Maybe there were more grey areas then he first thought in Thomas’s mind.

“Then I think you should help out with stage management, since you might hurt yourself working with power tools or moving larger set pieces around.”

“Hmm, that’s a good point. I think I’ll do that then, thanks for your input.”

“What really? You’re actually going to go with my pick?”

“Why not, you made a clear case and stated your concerns for my safety. I appreciate that a lot.”

A strange realization swept over Anxiety’s mind. What if this whole time it was actually Anxiety keeping Thomas safe and not the other way around? An immense feeling of relief caused him to laugh out loud at his own stupidity. There had never once been anything to fear, it was all in his head.

“I’m such an idiot! This whole time I’ve been so afraid you hated me and was going to get rid of me. I was trying so hard to not cause you any problems that it slowly drove me crazy.”

“Anxiety, I had no idea you were so stressed out over this. No matter what you have a place here. You keep me safe from danger, help me proceed cautiously in risky situations, and make it so I can deal with new forms of stress. I’m sorry I’ve been holding you back, but I think more than ever I need you.”

“To be needed is all I’ve ever wanted!” he mumbled through his tears.

Gently Thomas lifted Anxiety to his face and had him hug his nose. All those feelings of love, appreciation, and kindness washed over him as he giggled nervously. Anxiety had no idea how to deal with such an overwhelming flood of tender emotions, but he definitely enjoyed the sensation.

“Welcome to the family Anxiety! How about I summon the others and you say hello to all of them?”

Anxiety shivered slightly at the notion of being surrounded by giants, but he trusted Thomas. He also knew he’d have to introduce himself at some point if he was going to be sticking around.

“O-okay…”

Instantly, the other sides appeared in the room. Anxiety found it funny seeing them all in their pajamas and chuckled a bit. The sound quickly caught the attention of Morality who was completely amazed at the sight of the tiny side.

“Oh my gosh who is that?!”

Unfortunately, the sudden shouting frightened Anxiety and made him scurry towards the back of Thomas’s hands. He knew the giant side didn’t mean him any harm, but that was way too loud!

“Hang on Patton, you’re scaring him. You need to calm down and speak softly.”

“Oh I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean too. I’m friendly, see?”

Patton displayed a soft smile of reassurance and Anxiety sheepishly uncurled himself and walked closer to the edge of Thomas’s hand.

“I’m Anxiety. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Anxiety? Isn’t he one of those Dark Sides. What is he doing here?”

“Well you see he was worried I might make him vanish so he came to talk to me about it.”

“Vanish him?! Anxiety, there’s no way Thomas would ever do something like that.”

“Indeed, Thomas understands that all sides, big and small are necessary for him to have a healthy mindset.”

“Yeah kiddo, you’re safe here.”

“I-I know that now.”

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“Yep, he even helped me decide on what to volunteer for, for the show.”

“Interesting, what did you decide on then Thomas?”

“Yes, yes tell us!”

“I’m going to be helping with stage management after all.”

“What!? B-but wouldn’t making props be more fun then stuffy management?”

“Now Roman, Thomas has made up his mind and we need to respect that.”

“Ugh, I know Patton, but that means Logan wins.”

“Roman, Anxiety was the one who helped me choose, not just Logan. Also this isn’t a competition.”

“Ack! Oh, you’re right. I apologize. May I at least know what Anxiety said to make you go with that choice?”

“I first asked if he was also going to act in the play and he said yes. Then I thought about how it would be bad if he got hurt while moving props around or building them since power tools can be dangerous if you don’t know how to handle them properly. Thus, I believed stage management was the better option to keep him in the best possible shape for his performance.”

Silence filled the room as the giant sides had gone quiet. Anxiety could feel the tension rising and grew worried that he may have stepped over the line somehow. Suddenly, multiple cheers were directed towards him,

“Tha-that’s genius!”

“Wha-”

“A similar, but different perspective then my own. I’m impressed.”

“Huh?”

“Anxiety, I’ve missed judged you! At first I thought you were like that robot over there, but you really do care about Thomas’s well-being the same as I.”

Anxiety had no idea how to respond to this amount of praise. All he did was speak his opinion.

“I hope now you see how needed you truly are here Anxiety.”

Anxiety blushed.

“Yeah, it’s a lot to handle though.”

“You’ll get used to it. Anyway, I want you all to introduce yourselves to our new family member here. Would you be okay with each of them holding you for their introductions?”

“I don’t mind. As long as none of them drop me.”

“It’ll be just fine. Here you go Patton, you first.”

Slowly Patton cupped his hands together and placed them in front of Thomas’s in order for Anxiety to walk across.

“Hey there kiddo, my name's Patton and I’m Thomas’s Morality. I look forward to working with you!”

Patton was so warm, he wasn’t anything like his counterpart Deceit.

“Now Roman.”

Roman mimicked Patton’s movements from before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Anxiety. My name is Prince Roman, but for friends Roman is just fine. I make up Thomas’s Creativity.”

This one was Remus’s brother, but comparatively he was a lot nicer and cleaner.

“Last we have Logan.”

Following suit yet again Anxiety felt the most nervous about this one. His eyes were cold and his demeanor was rigid.

“Hello Anxiety, it’s nice to finally meet you. My name is Logan and I’m Thomas’s Logic. I want you to know I look forward to your company.”

A small smile crept on Logan’s face as he handed Anxiety back over to Thomas’s hands.

“From now on you’re one of us Anxiety.”

Leaning down Thomas placed a kiss on Anxeity’s head. He giggled with embarrassment. Not in his wildest dreams did he think he’d ever find his place in Thomas’s mind, but now he was also a part of his heart too. Overtime Anxiety enjoyed hanging with his new family and grew into his role.

“Hey Virgil, hurry it up. Thomas needs to see us right away!”

“Coming.” he said as he grabbed onto Roman’s hand.

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen

The tag list is just starting for my short sides, so if you’d like to be added just send an ask or comment on this post. Thank you again for reading!

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blackrose343 · 4 years ago

Text

A New Beginning

Warnings: Angst and Implied torture and violence

Devil May Cry - Sparda x Eva

Fanfic Summary: This is about how Sparda and Eva met, along with how they got together. (For this I was thinking Eva was in her late teens, early twenties.)

5,262 words

This was written for @dmcweek day 5. Prompt: Hurt. I didn’t expect it to be this long.

The sun’s rays peeking through the curtains awoke Eva from her slumber. Eva rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then stretched her arms. She jumped out of bed to look at the flower filled garden. It didn’t take long for her to spot her mother having breakfast. Eva’s mother greeted her with a smile motioning for Eva to join her. Eva didn’t see her father so she assumed he was busy. Eva gave her mother a hug then grabbed a piece of toast. Her mother giggled while tucking some of Eva’s hair behind her ear.

“I think I’ll go wander around town.”

“If you do, remember not to be late. Your father is throwing a party tonight. Everyone would love to see you.” Eva pouted. She wasn’t excited about tonight’s party. Days ago, she overheard her parents discussing the party as an opportunity to find Eva a husband. She didn’t want to marry a random man. She was like everyone else and wanted to marry the one she loves. Still, the thought of meeting someone at the party crossed her mind.

Eva asked her mother who would be attending. Her mother told her the obvious answers: friends and family. She also mentioned some people from work and other aristocrats. Her mother then mentioned someone who recently moved to the area. She couldn’t recall his name but told Eva what she heard about him. She heard he’s a silvered haired demonologist who was rumored to be quite handsome. Eva pushed the “handsome” comment aside. She cared about one’s personality more than their appearance.

Eva went to the park to feed the ducks. She needed something to distract herself. Watching the ducks swim wasn’t working. She couldn’t stop thinking about how her parents were searching for a husband for her. She knew this was more for her father than for her. She wondered what would happen if she met someone after the arranged marriage. Divorcing could backfire immensely. Run away, maybe? Eva sighed as she slumped into the bunch. She looked up at the sun hoping for a sign of what to do.

A man took the spot next to her. Eva thought she may have been too close to him so she scooted a couple inches. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sit so close to you.”

“It’s probably my fault. I am sitting more towards the middle of the bench. I’m Eva.” Eva turned towards the man extending her hand to him. Her breath got caught in her throat. The man before her was not like the men around town. Breathtaking and well-built with silver hair. Eva knew he was the new demonologist.

The man was stunned Eva was not afraid of him. It took him a second to remember he was in his human form. He sometimes forgot he was living the life of a human; no longer as the Legendary Dark Knight. He looked at Eva noticing she was waiting for a response. Her golden locks perfectly framed her face. Her eyes were dark in color yet they showed so much kindness. Maybe he could finally have a friend.

“Please, call me Sparda.” Sparda gently grabbed Eva’s hand then brought it to his lips. He placed the lightest of kisses upon her hand while continuing to look at her. For a moment their eyes met. His blue ones with her dark ones. A small blush appeared on Eva. She expected him to shake her hand instead of receiving a light peck. Eva returned her hand to her lap as Sparda spoke. “May I ask why you are here alone?”

“The weather is gorgeous so I thought taking a trip to the park would be nice.” Sparda suspected Eva’s answer was part of the truth. As he looked at her he sensed something. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but he became concerned. As if to prove Sparda’s suspicion, Eva let a small sigh escape from her. She explained she wanted to vent to someone but not to someone she just met.

Eva gave a bit of bread to Sparda then continued to feed the ducks. Eva and Sparda conversed getting to know each other more. Eva told Sparda of her simple life. Sparda told Eva he was working on becoming a better person. He confessed to Eva he had a dark past but refused to detail it. Eva placed a hand on Sparda’s shoulder as she offered to help him in any way she could.

Before Sparda moved here he encountered many unpleasant people. Most people would ignore him. Others shunned him for his interest in handling demons. No one understood why he had an interest in learning about demons and other creatures. Sparda became a demonologist so he could continue to protect humans from demons without anyone finding out he is one.

Sparda was lost on memory lane when Eva asked him for the time. She jumped out of the bench when he told her. Time flew quicker than she anticipated. She enjoyed the time she sent with Sparda. She hoped he felt the same. Eva was delighted to know Sparda would be attending tonight’s party. Maybe she could chat with him some more. Sparda held out a pink lisianthus to Eva as she prepared to leave. Eva’s blush matched the color of the flower when she accepted it. Sparda watched her smell the flower then leave.

Twilight approached as Eva caught Sparda making his appearance. Sparda was searching for Eva. Eva followed his eyes with hers as she conversed with a couple men her parents introduced to her. (She knew these were some men her father was considering as a potential husband for her.) Eva’s attention completely gravitated to Sparda once their eyes met again. She couldn’t help but blush. Sparda gave her a smile as he made his way to her. To Eva’s dismay, her father intervened by starting a conversation with Sparda. Eva watched her father drifting Sparda away from her direction. She chose to stay in the conversation she was stuck in to not appear rude to her guests.

Eva’s father tried to get to know Sparda better to no avail. Sparda gave Eva’s father very vague yet satisfying answers. Sparda knew better than to say too much. Eva’s father continued the conversation by introducing Sparda to his wife then told him a bit about his family. Sparda found out Eva was their only daughter and that they were trying to find her a husband. Sparda’s gut told him this was what Eva was depressed about earlier.

Sparda was introduced to some of the other guests attending the party. During a conversation, Sparda secretly glanced at Eva a few times to check on her. From what he saw Eva appeared to be okay, physically. Her eyes showed she was feeling tired.

Eva was getting bored with the conversation she was having. It primarily consisted on why she should consider so-and-so for marriage. All the reasons go back to how it could benefit her but mostly her father. Eva asked herself if it was too much to ask for someone to want to marry her because they love her. Eva wanted more than anything for this conversation to end.

Music and laughter started to fill the air. People gathered around the dance floor. Eva took the opportunity to sneak out to the garden. Unbeknownst to Eva, Sparda followed her. Eva checked on the garden; pulling a couple weeds here and there. Even though she was doing a mundane task Sparda was fascinated. He could watch her all night if he could. It wasn’t difficult for the moon to reveal Eva’s beauty. Although the moon revealed more to Sparda. He could see Eva’s desire for something else in life. Sparda wasn’t sure why but he wanted to do what he could to give Eva a life she wanted.

Sparda decided to make his presence known when Eva took a seat on the fountain. Eva wasn’t sure how long Sparda had been watching her. She didn’t mind. She wished she knew earlier to talk with him more. Eva was rinsing her hands in the fountain as she told Sparda about the garden. She’s been tending the garden since she was a little girl. Sparda brought up that she could make her garden with her family one day. Eva gave Sparda a bittersweet smile as she accepted his handkerchief to dry her hands. “I hope to marry someone I love. From what my parents are trying to do, that may not be the case.”

Sparda was at a loss for words. He has never comforted anyone. To lighten Eva’s mood, Sparda offered her a dance. Eva sheepishly smiled at Sparda. She admitted that she wasn’t a great dancer. She playfully pouted as Sparda laughed. Sparda pulled her up from the fountain then placed her hand on his shoulder. Sparda grabbed her other hand tenderly making sure not to harm her. Sparda pushed Eva slightly closer to him after placing his free hand around her waist. He asked if Eva was ready before making any movement. Eva didn’t trust herself to speak so she nodded.

Sparda chose a simple dance so Eva wouldn’t feel discouraged. Eva gripped onto Sparda as if her life depended on it. She couldn’t help but look down at her feet as they started dancing. Each time she would step on Sparda’s feet or trip on him she would apologize. She suggested to stop before she stomped his feet into nothing. Sparda chuckled and reassured Eva she wasn’t as terrible as she thought. Hearing Sparda’s praise about how quickly she was learning was pleasant to Eva. She didn’t feel completely embarrassed.

Eva was enjoying herself more than she has in a while. To fully take in this moment she took her eyes off her feet. She looked up at Sparda showing him her enjoyment. Sparda was looking down at her with a goofy grin plastered on his face. She moved her hand from Sparda’s shoulder to his cheek. As she gently caressed his face she noticed his eyes shine with mischief. Before she could figure out why, Sparda dipped her. Eva shierked. She gripped Sparda’s neck so tight she scratched him. Sparda was howling with laughter from Eva’s reaction. He wanted to mess with her; not scare the living daylights out of her.

Sparda wiped tears from his eyes after helping Eva stand up. The embarrassment from earlier returned to Eva. Eva’s father came out to see if she was alright. It took some effort but Eva was able to convince her father everything was fine. Eva’s father ushered her inside leaving Sparda by himself. Eva tried to go back to invite Sparda inside but her father prevented her from doing so. Sparda took this as his cue to leave.

Ever since that night, Eva took every chance she could to go into town in hopes of finding Sparda. At first it was difficult. She had no idea where he lived or when he traveled for work. Eventually her and Sparda agreed to meet at the park every other day. When they met it was as if time didn’t exist; as if nothing besides them existed. Neither ever realizes when the sun has already set. Sometimes they unintentionally ignore other park goers because they don’t hear them. They would get lost in their conversations; in each other. The time they spent together was filled with laughter, happiness and joy. Never was there a depressing or dull moment. Sometimes they would give each other advice and pick on each other. Before they knew it they became inseparable. Neither ever wanted to leave the other. Both wanted to spend eternity together.

Eva sat at the bench waiting for Sparda. For the past few days Eva’s been believing the atmosphere around her has become off putting. The weather was cooler yet the sky was always grey. No rain. Just harsh gusts of wind. Whispered rumors about Sparda reached their way into town. One rumor was Sparda ransacked a town. Another was he made a deal with the devil. Eva paid no mind to the rumors. She even tried to reason with everyone when they brought up their concern about her being around Sparda. There was just no way Sparda would harm her or the town.

Eva wasn’t sure how much time had passed but too many people asked her about Sparda. She asked a couple people arriving at the park if they saw Sparda. No one did. One person mentioned it’s been a couple days since they saw him. Eva became worried and started to search other places they frequented. No one knew where Sparda was or where he went. Too many people kept telling her to try places she already checked. Eva became anxious believing something happened to Sparda.

Eva remembered Sparda telling her he sometimes took a walk in the forest. She had no idea if she would be able to find Sparda there. If she wasn’t careful she would get lost. She searched with the areas she knew then ventured deeper into the forest. Eva heard voices not too far from her. She followed the voices to the source. The voices led her to the top of a hill. Eva crouched behind a log as she peered below.

Through the fog Eva saw a couple men armed for hunting standing in front of a cellar door. Eva couldn’t fully comprehend their conversation yet she recognized the voices. It was after the fog dissipated that she saw her father and his friend. She gasped from shock. The below turned their heads facing Eva’s direction. She laid down next to the log just in time. Her father’s friend readied his rifle. His eyes skimmed the area not seeing anything or anyone. Eva remained hidden until the men left.

Eva made her way to the cellar door once she was convinced the coast was clear. She tried her best to not step on any twigs or small animals. She avoided any leaves that may crunch beneath her. Eva crossed her fingers as she hoped no one would find her. She ducked behind a barrel as she made her way into the cellar. She didn’t see anyone. She didn’t hear anything. Eva saw she had multiple rooms to search. She decided to search each room.

Eva gingerly placed her ear against each door waiting for any indication of life beyond it. Majority of the rooms contained wine and other liquors. A couple rooms were prepared for an apocalypse. Eva heard chains rustling as she placed her ear on the second to last door. Eva’s heart started to pound within her. She took a deep breath as her shaking hand grabbed the door knob. What she saw before her was horrifying. Sparda was chained like an animal and beaten. He was covered in bruises and cuts. Blood was oozing from his wounds. Eva tried to say Sparda’s name except the lump in her throat prevented her.

Sparda’s head sprang up when he heard the door close. His rage filled eyes locked on the one who entered. Sparda’s expression relaxed once he realized it was Eva. Eva stood still uncertain of what she should be doing. Sparda saw Eva’s shock dissolve into concern for him. Sparda apologized to Eva explaining he thought she was someone else. Eva tore a part of her dress to dab some blood off of him. She tried to find out what was going on.

“I guess now would be the time to elaborate what I meant when I told you I had a dark past.” Sparda told Eva that he is a demon. He briefly explained his past to Eva unsure if she would believe him. Eva listened to every word Sparda said. Not even for a second did Eva suspect Sparda was lying. While Sparda spoke he couldn’t face Eva. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. He didn’t want to lose her because of his past. Sparda confessed the time he spent with Eva was the greatest pleasure he has ever felt. Eva saw so much in his eyes. Remorse, anger, fear, and perhaps love. As if by instinct, Eva gently grabbed Sparda’s face and planted a kiss upon his lips.

Sparda wanted nothing more than to kiss Eva again. The chains’ runes glowed interrupting his attempt to do so. The chains sent waves of shock throughout Sparda. Sparda tried to hide his pain; to keep himself composed for Eva’s sake. If Sparda wasn’t careful he may hurt Eva. If he ever did so, he would never forgive himself.

Eva hugged him then started to search for the key. Fear and worry were consuming her. She searched every nook and cranny of the rooms she considered the key to be in. She tried to chop the chains off with an axe she found. The axe chipped while the chains stayed intact. A piece of the axe fell next to a crate. Eva started to frantically search the crate when she heard the cellar door open. Eva and Sparda could hear men talking to each other. Sparda urgently whispered at Eva to hide. She quickly squeezed herself behind a shelf.

Eva couldn’t believe what she was witnessing: people she knew beating Sparda. The injuries they inflicted varied from whipping and punching to stabbing. Eva did not expect the familiar faces to partake in this cruelty. Sparda’s blood splattered all over. Eva wondered why Sparda chose to not defend himself. He may be chained but Eva thought Sparda could do something. Eva knew she couldn’t take on so many people at once so she closed her eyes and waited.

Sparda stated it was safe for Eva to come out when he no longer sensed any one near them. Eva kissed the bruise on Sparda’s cheek. She hugged him declaring she will free him no matter what. Dread filmed over Sparda’s eyes. He was grateful Eva was going to help him yet how could he tell her her father was involved? What would happen if her father found out about this? Sparda opened his mouth ready to deny Eva’s offer. Eva placed a finger on his lips. “I’ve made my decision. Nothing will change my mind.”

The decision to save Sparda was locked within Eva. Sparda had to speak up before Eva left. Eva had to know her father was involved before he became the reason he tore her family apart. He would not hate or be angry with Eva if she rescinds her decision. “Eva…You may want to reconsider. Your father is the one that holds the key.”

“I know…Will you let me come with you?” Sparda’s eyes widened with bewilderment. He was not expecting Eva to stick with her decision. Let alone ask to continue being with him. Sparda felt conflicted. He desired Eva to be with him. He also feared what could happen to her if they stayed together. He couldn’t find the words to express concern for Eva. Without knowing it, Sparda gave Eva his answer. She gave him a sincere smile then started her mission to free him.

———————————————————————————————————

“Eva, wher-what happened?” It was past dinner when Eva arrived home. Her mother was worried sick. Even more so when she saw Eva was covered with dirt and twigs. Eva casually explained to her mother she was trying to reach a flower for the garden but slipped down a hill. Her mother examined Eva to be sure she didn’t get hurt. Eva was surprised with how easily she lied to her mother. Once her mother was convinced no harm came upon Eva she told Eva to take a bath.

Eva sat in the tub pondering where her father kept the key. She managed to search his office before taking a bath. It wasn’t in the safe. It wasn’t cluttered within the office mess. It wasn’t even in the “hidden” drawer. She studied her father when he returned home. Yet there was no indication he had the key with him. The only option Eva had was to search their bedroom.

It was the dead of night. The moon shone where the sun was. Owls, along with other animals could be heard. Eva was pacing back and forth in front of her in the hallway as she made her way to her parent’s room. She was overwhelmed by what she was about to do: free Sparda and run away with him. She gave herself a few light taps to the face to remind herself she wasn’t dreaming. Eva whispered a pep talk to comfort herself. “Come on, Eva. You told Sparda you would do anything to help him. Even if you didn’t love him, you can’t leave him there. It’s inhumane. Sparda did nothing to desire such hostility.”

Cautiously, she turned her parent’s doorknob. She gave the door a tiny push ensuring it won’t make a sound. She opened the door praying the sound of her parent’s snores blocked any of the door’s noises. Tentatively she tiptoed to her father’s side of the bed. She kneeled beside the bed then proceeded to open her father’s night stand.

Eva let her hand travel within the drawer feeling a stack of papers, along with a pen. She felt something cool and metallic. Eva thought it felt too wide to be a key so she assumed it was her father’s gun. She placed the gun on her lap then continued searching. During her search she couldn’t get rid of the feeling of someone watching her. She took a shallow breath then turned towards the bed. She was face to face with her father. Eva slapped her hand onto her mouth. She was stuck in place. Her father sat up. “Eva, what are doing?”

Eva bolted straight up hitting the wall behind her. The gun slid under the bed. She stood still not daring to make a move or sound. The moon’s light made its way through the curtains landing on her father’s neck. It was hard to see but Eva saw a thin thread wrapped around his neck. Her father pulled the key out from under his shirt. “Are you looking for this?”

“Locking up Sparda is wrong. He-he hasn’t done anything.” Eva could barely produce the words coming out of her. She has never felt so frightened. The air around her became melicious. Eva feared what her father intended to do. (To her and Sparda.) Whatever her father had planned, Eva couldn’t let him go through with it. She lunged at her father grabbing the key. Her father gripped her wrists, stopping Eva from stealing the key.

Eva struggled to retrieve the key. Both of her hands engulfed the key. She was backing away from her father. Her father only tightened his grip on Eva’s wrists. Eva could feel her father’s desperation for the key. His grip was so harsh he was on the verge of cracking her wrists.

The struggle awoke Eva’s mother. She first heard her husband grunting, then Eva’s pleas. She felt the mattress move as if it became the ocean. She turned her body to her husband. Eva’s hair was swinging in all directions. Her husband was trying to pull Eva to him. Eva’s mother couldn’t fathom what has caused such a disturbance this late. All she could was ask what was going on.

A cold sweat ran down Eva’s father’s forehead. He was petrified. Everything moved too fast and too slow. He recalls fighting Eva for his key, then he heard his wife. Hearing his wife snapped him out of whatever he was doing. Instantly he let go of Eva’s wrists. Since Eva was still struggling to free herself from him she ended up crashing through the window.

Eva’s mother pushed her father as she made her way to the window. She feared the worst but was relieved. Eva landed on some bushes and was conscious. She told Eva to stay where she was.

Eva lied on the bushes absorbing what just happened. She released her death grip on the key. The key glistened in the moonlight. Such a simple thing could save a life. Something else glistened from above. Eva’s eyes widened. Her mother was oblivious to what was going on behind her. Eva rolled off the bushes then ran. She didn’t look back when she heard her father shoot. She ran because now her life was on the line. In the distance she heard her mother arguing with her father. Her father never explained himself. He just kept telling his wife to stay out of it and she wouldn’t understand.

Eva had no idea how long she’s been running. She believed she would never stop running. She barged her way through spider webs and twigs. She tripped but did not hesitate to get up. Adrenaline is what kept her going, physically. Eva’s mind was a jumbled mess. She hasn’t fully comprehended what was going on. All she thought of was saving Sparda.

Eva hid the key as lights approached her. She held up her arms pleading for the men to not shoot. The men were friends of her father’s. They asked what happened. Eva told them some of the truth: she was running away because her father tried to shoot her. The men looked at each other not knowing what to do or say. Eva begged the men to go check on him for she feared what might happen to her mother. The men sprinted away without asking any questions.

Eva couldn’t have been happier. No one was outside the cellar. Nothing could be heard when she placed her ear on the door. Urgently, Eva made her way to Sparda. He was in worse condition than when she found him. Eva could hear his ragged breaths. His chest heaved up and down. His hair was dyed with his blood. Eva didn’t have time to look at him. She ran up to him searching for the keyhole.

“SPARDA! Sparda, look at me!” Eva freed Sparda from the chains. His head was lying in Eva’s lap. Slowly Sparda regained consciousness. Momentarily he thought it was raining. Seeing Eva’s tears crying fully awakened his senses. Joyfully Eva hugged Sparda. She never wanted to let him go.

Eva watched Sparda’s wounds heal as she explained what happened to her. She tried to get the debris off of her. Eva shot Sparda a tired smile reassuring Sparda nothing was his fault. Eva chose to save Sparda no matter what. Sparda could see Eva went through a lot. He placed his hand upon Eva’s cheek. She leaned into it giving it a light peck.

“Are you sure you want to leave with me? You can stay here and resume your life as if we never met.”

“I’m sure. In the short amount of time we spent you became my spark of life. Without realizing it I fell in love with you.”

“Eva, you know about my past. Why choose to be with me?”

“Who you were doesn’t matter to me. It’s who you are now that does.”

Eva’s father and his friends gathered around the cellar door prepared to barge in. Threats were made if Sparda did not hand over Eva. Eva, with Sparda following her, exited the cellar with her hands up unsure of what would happen next. She and Sparda were trapped. Torches were blazing. Rifles ready to shoot. There was no escape.

“Are you going to kill our daughter and an innocent man because of some stupid rumors?!” Eva’s mother made her way through the crowd planting herself in front of Eva and Sparda. Few of the men lowered their torches and rifles ashamed of themselves. They questioned if what they were doing, what they did to Sparda, was justified. They had no evidence. They acted out of fear.

Eva’s father was still. Contemplating if he should kill Sparda. His wife had no idea what he heard about Sparda. What he saw. Sparda wasn’t hurting anyone now but what about later? It would be too late. Eva’s father hovered his finger over the trigger. Eva placed herself next to her mother in front of Sparda.

“Move, damn it!”

Both women refused. Neither were going to let Sparda get killed. Sparda was awed by what he witnessed. Like Eva, her mother displayed a sense of justice and courage. Not once since he lived as a human has anyone stood up for him. Defend him. If Eva and her mother were demons during the time of the rebellion, he would have recruited them in a heartbeat.

“Neither one of you knows what he is!”

“I do and I don’t care! Sparda is a sweet and caring man. The time I have spent with him is the happiest I have ever been.”

Eva’s father could see the truth in Eva’s eyes. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He wanted to protect his daughter. He wanted Sparda to leave. He believed he could achieve this by locking him up, then by killing him. He wasn’t expecting his wife and daughter to stand in his way (figuratively and literally). He wouldn’t live with himself if he murdered them. He threw the rifle behind him withdrawing himself from the quarrel. “Eva, you are no longer my daughter. Both of you leave.”

“Dear, you can’t be serious! You can’t just kick her out because of who she chooses to associate herself with. She’s your flesh and blood!”

“I don’t care.” Eva’s parents’ argument overpowered the wolves’ howls, the owl’s hoots. Eva couldn’t believe her father would be so willing to get rid of her. Especially to only keep a good reputation. Sadly, she wasn’t too shocked. Her father did try to set an arranged marriage to climb the social ladder.

Sparda placed a hand on Eva’s shoulder readying himself for Eva to stay home. Eva put her hand over his giving it a light squeeze. One last deep breath she took, then announced her answer. “I choose to go with Sparda. I love him and never want to leave his side.”

“I told you, I want to be with you.” Eva gave Sparda the biggest smile she could muster.

Her father didn’t say a word. He picked up his rifle, then disappeared with his friends. Eva’s mother hugged Eva and Sparda. She praised Eva for the bravery she showed. For sticking to the decision that would make her happy. She thanked Sparda for making her daughter happy. Sparda swore to her he would always love Eva. Eva’s mother gave Eva a squeeze and a kiss. She wrapped her red shawl around Eva, then made her departure.

Seeing her mother leave is what broke Eva’s facade. She hugged Sparda pouring everything out of her. The anxiety, frustration, and fear she’s been feeling since looking for Sparda. The sadness of departing with her mother. The relief and happiness she felt for saving Sparda. Her wails and cries filled the forest. Sparda hugged Eva while lovingly petting her hair. Eva has been through so much in such a short amount of time. Patiently Sparda waited until Eva was ready to go.

Once Eva composed herself, Sparda carried her bridal style into the sun’s light. Sparda looked at Eva’s sleeping form in his arms. Her tears glistened in the sun. Her expression was one of pain. Slowly her expression became content. Sparda gave her a sweet peck to the forehead. He swore to give Eva the joyous life she deserved.

#dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #devil may cry #sparda #eva #dmc sparda #dmc eva

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sonicgetsrawed · 5 years ago

Note

Kidnapping for bad things. After Andrew stalked Varian he is now a kidnapped victim. No one knows where he is and Andrew is enacting his revenge. Traitors to Saporia pay with their lives but that doesn’t mean Andrew can’t have some fun with it. Unbeknownst to Varian, Ruddiger is getting help. Rapunzel and co are on the way.

This was also requested by PeaceandLove357 on Ao3! My second bad things happen bingo prompt! This will be under the cut due to violence, torture, and blood. Enjoy!

Varian forced his eyes open, the pounding in his head doing him no favors. The first things he noticed were his arms were aching, stretched above him keeping him suspended. The tips of his toes barely reached the ground, and there was the ever present feeling of fabric against his mouth. He took in his surroundings, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. It wasn’t hard to recognize where he was, he’d seen it in this lighting many times. He had worked like this many times, it was his lab after all. Although he hadn’t been in here much since his father was freed from the amber, the constant reminder did nothing for his work. Speaking of the amber it seemed the remains of it was what he was hanging from, chains digging painfully into his wrists. He tried to push himself up so that he could force the chains over the edge of the amber, thus freeing him, but his current position gave him no leverage to do so.

“You’re finally awake. For a second I thought I’d killed you already. Where would be the fun in that, right, buddy?” Andrew drawled, stepping into his line of vision, sharpening the knife that he had previously been sleeping with. Varian tried to protest, any words he said muffling against the gag. Andrew clicked his tongue, stepping uncomfortably close to Varian. He placed the knife to Varian’s cheek, just above the gag.

“You know what this is for?” He dug the knife in, slowly, deliberately. Varian could feel his skin tearing, trying to escape the harsh blade. He jerked his head away, only for Andrew to grab his chin, preventing him from getting any relief from the sharp knife. “This is so I don’t have to hear you drone on, and on, and on, about pointless shit, that I don’t give a fuck about.”

“Although,” Andrew continued, trailing the blade down his neck, over his collarbone, until it finally rested above his heart, never breaking eye contact the whole way. Varian stared back with wide blue eyes, trying not to focus on the blood that was trailing down his face. “It would be nice to hear you beg, to scream, to cry out. Would you try to bargain with me?”

Varian’s heart rate increased as Andrew removed the knife from his chest, only to insert it into his stomach. He moved it just as slowly as he had when it was on his cheek, but this time he didn’t stop until the whole blade was imbedded up to the handle. Varian tried not to scream, tried not to thrash, he couldn’t resist the urgency to get away. He couldn’t even stop the tears that leaked from his eyes at the immense pain in his side. Andrew shushed him, moving his hand to his cheek, gently wiping his tears away. Varian involuntarily leaned into the touch, hating himself for seeking out the comfort to begin with. He hated how easily he fell back into wanting Andrew’s comfort, despite him being the one who was hurting him. Despite the fact that he had grown from that. Perhaps they were right when they said old habits die hard.

“Do you remember our time together?” Andrew stepped back, letting his face go. Varian bit back a whimper at the lost contact. He wasn’t that pathetic, he couldn’t be, he was better now. “Remember how you would never stop talking about the wonders of alchemy? I always tuned you out, honestly, but now I wonder,” Andrew ran his hands over the various chemicals on the shelves. “what does all this do?”

Andrew plucked a bottle at random, a sickening smile spreading across his face. “Wanna find out?” Varian squirmed, trying to get away as Andrew uncorked the bottle. The man stopped abruptly, tapping a finger to his chin as if he were forgetting something.

“Where are my manners?” He snapped Varian’s googles harshly into place over his eyes, irritating the cut on his cheek. Andrew poked Varian’s nose. “Safety first. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Andrew placed the bottle just below the chain on his wrist, tilting until some of the liquid dropped onto the skin there. Varian screamed as best he could despite the gag, thrashing violently as the liquid burned into his skin. It did him no favors, liquid trailing down his arm and pooling where his shoulder met his neck. He was dizzy with pain, his eyes hazy with tears.

Andrew lifted his chin so he was looking at him again. “Wanna try another?” Varian didn’t have time to respond before his body erupted in more pain.

***************

“What about this one?” Eugene asked, pointing to an arrangement of flowers.

“Too gaudy.” Rapunzel responded, face scrunching in disgust. Eugene made a tick on his list, sighing as he moved to the next arrangement. He was about to ask her opinion when the door slammed open, revealing a very angry looking Cassandra. He immediately ducked behind his wonderful, beautiful, no way she could be mad at her, fiancé. “Cass!” Rapunzel called excitedly, somehow unaware of her angry expression.

“Where’s Varian?” Cassandra demanded, a very frazzled looking Ruddiger tucked under her arm.

“Nice to see you too.” Eugene responded, yelping as a knife imbedded itself inches from his head. He gulped, ducking back behind Rapunzel.

“I sent him home, why?” Rapunzel answered, choosing to ignore the fact that her best friend nearly took out her fiancé.

“This is why!” Cassandra shoved Ruddiger in their faces, sighing when they didn’t seem to get the message. She shook the raccoon. “Will you drop it?”

Apparently raccoons found it harder to forgive and forget than most humans did. Finally a paper dropped to the ground. She gave Rapunzel and Eugene a moment to process it. Ruddiger took the initiative this time, chittering at Rapunzel before pointing in a direction.

“Max!” Eugene called, hopping onto the horse as soon as he entered and helping Rapunzel up. Ruddiger climbed on top as well, still pointing.

“Fidella is right outside. I’ll catch up.” Cassandra called. They made it in record time to Varian’s home in Old Corona. Max whinnied, pointing with his snout to Varian’s lab. The group gathered by the door.

“Okay, we need a plan.” Rapunzel said, trying to keep a level head. When Cass has kidnapped Varian she knew she wouldn’t hurt him. Andrew on the other hand had explicitly tried to kill him, there was no telling what they’d walk into.

“Here’s your fucking plan.” Cassandra said, kicking down the door, her sword at the ready. The room was empty, except for Varian hanging from the remains of the amber. His head was hanging limply against his chest, a knife sticking out from his stomach, and various colored chemicals covered his body. “Get him out of here. I’ll take care of Andrew.” Cassandra instructed, positive the jackass was still here. She was proven right a few seconds later when smoke filled the room and she reacted just in time to block Andrew’s sword with her own.

“Long time no see, Cassie.” Andrew laughed.

“Not long enough.” Cassandra shot back, ducking into the smoke to sweep at his feet. He jumped over her attack, lunging forward. She rolled to the side, picking up a stray pair of googles and placing them over her eyes. She was surprised how much of a difference they made in her visibility, lunging at Andrew again. This time she disarmed him, his sword clattering to the ground as the smoke disappeared. She pushed the googles up into her hair, brining her sword back to end him.

“Cass!” Rapunzel called, a desperate look in her eyes. Eugene was carrying Varian, giving her the same look as his fiancé. For a second she wished she was still in possession of the moonstone. Then she wouldn’t have hesitated, then she would have been done with him forever. But she wasn’t, and she was trying to be better.

She grabbed Andrew by the front of his shirt bringing him close enough so he could see the absolute hatred burning in her eyes. “Only I get to kidnap Varian.” She snarled, slamming his head back into the wall. The amount of blood that pooled beneath him was concerning, but she knew her own strength and unfortunately he would live. “He won’t be waking up anytime soon. Have Stan and Pete collect him. Let’s get Varian to the doctor.”

Typically Eugene would argue with her, he was too shocked now to do so. So he simply nodded and guided Rapunzel out of the room, his top priority getting Varian help.

Cassandra was the only one still up when Varian came to. He shot up in the bed, eyes frantically darting around. Her hands hovered above his shoulders, wanting to comfort him but knowing it would hurt if she actually touched him. “Hey, Var, it’s me. You’re safe.”

Slowly his eyes focused on her, his breathing slowing slightly. “C-Cass?” He managed to get out, sounding breathless.

“Yeah, I’m here.” She said, placing her hand on the bed next to his. He lunged at her, wrapping his arms around her tightly as if she would disappear at any moment. She awkwardly patted his back as he sobbed into her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She held him until he inevitably fell back asleep. She ran her hand through his hair. They would be okay, they would all be okay.

#tangled the series #varian #bad things happen bingo #Andrew #cassandra #eugene fitzherbert #Rapunzel #blood #torture #violence #varian whump

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marvinswriting · 4 years ago

Text

Yelling, (grapes with a side of anger p2)

Prompt: what if damain only acts so calm and chill now BC of janis, an idea that hit me at 3 am ft input from bear while doing a proofread i realized this unintentionally has very similar energy to bears fic "watch your tongue" except not really but kinda. lmao ENJOY!

Yeah, Janis was jumpy. Can you blame her?

She's on the shorter side even for tinies, imagine how she felt around her bigger peers.

Even as plastic, while she was untouchable with the rest of the school, that didn't mean she was with her inner circle.

Quite the opposite actually.

Before Regina dropped her, she was the lowest plastic. Janis was always fighting a losing battle with Gretchen for Regina's favorite. Karen simply didn't care, putting her on a whole other tier.

Janis was used to being pushed around or grabbed suddenly without warning when Regina's back was turned. Sometimes while Regina was even there. Gretchen learned pretty fast the tiny blonde did nothing to stop her.

But Janis wasn't plastic anymore. She had Damian, somebody who actually cared. And yeah, freshman year in high school is rough, but Janis knows when a hand unexpectedly picks her up, it's not with the intention to cause her fear for fun or to threaten her. It's just Damian. Actually, just Damian was a pretty big understatement.

He cared about her, for more than just social status. All those people who wanted to befriend Janis left when the space dyke rumors went around. But Damian picked her up and stood with her anyway.

It was a sure way to expose Damian to getting bullied as well, but he didn't leave.

He stuck around, showed her what a true friend was. Damian proved that despite their size difference, they could be equal.

Still, sometimes when Janis sat in her room at night, she could hear the taunting, she could feel sharply manicured nails wrap around her. Gretchen would do anything to please Regina. If hurting Janis to prove she wasn't a spineless bitch was it, Gretchen would do it.

Gretchen did do it.

The bruises and physical marks have long since disappeared, but the mental scar still cut deep.

She jumped at every loud noise, flinched whenever somebody went to grab her. It got better around Damian, but without him felt like eight grade again.

Right now, Janis sat at the tiny pick up zone, waiting for Damian.

It wasn't often that Janis beat Damian there, but she didn't mind waiting. It was after school, she wasn't in any form of a rush. She opened her sketchbook, sliding into a sitting position against the wall, and got to work continuing her lastest drawing.

It was a simple pencil drawing, but Janis allowed herself to get lost in it. People walked past the pickup zone without throwing Janis so much as a second glance. She was a space dyke after all.

It wasn't until she heard footsteps stop in front of the tiny pick up zone that she looked up, expecting Damian.

Instead, Gretchen stood there, smiling condescendingly at the smaller girl.

"Long time no see, Janis."

Somehow, hearing Janis rather than space dyke sounded worse when coming from Gretchen. Janis could almost feel her blood run cold.

"Please leave me alone, Gretchen."

"Now why would I do that?" Her voice was sickenly sweet and Janis tensely closed her sketchbook.

"Where's Regina? Don't you only fuck with me to please her?" Janis scowled.

Gretchen grinned. "Hmm, you see, you're the school dyke now. I don't need a reason to do anything."

Janis stood up taking a step backward. She didn't like where this was going one bit.

Maybe if she started running now she could make it far enough into the tiny hallway where she could hide and wait for Damian until-

A sudden harsh pain flashed through Janis's torse and she stumbled backward.

Gretchen just flicked her.

A simple action that took so little energy from the giant had sent Janis doubled over in pain, wind knocked out of her.

Gretchen laughed. "Oh, Jan. I missed this. Didn't you?"

Don't call me Jan.

If there were air in Janis's lungs maybe she would have fired back a remark but she was to busy curled into herself slightly.

It felt like eight grade again. Another typical day for plastic Janis.

She pulled herself to her feet, having gone through this enough times to know its worse when you don't at least try to fight back.

"Gretchen, I'm serious."

"So am I! I missed alone time between us. Just messing around as friends."

"Leave me alone." There was an embarrassing lack of bravery in Janis's voice, and Gretchen picked up on it.

"Aww, you're no scared, are you?" She reached out, wrapping her fingers around Janis despite the smaller girls protest. Janis felt extremely helpless, her arms pinned to her sides as she was lifted further into the air. "It's just girl talk. Fun time between two old friends."

"Gretchen, put me down. Please."

It felt humiliating and all too familiar. This was the sickenly sweet Gretchen, if somebody walked in and overheard her, it could be passed off as friends messing around.

Even in the situation, she was in, Janis couldn't help but feel grateful they were in a hallway, not alone when Gretchen wouldn't have to fake innocence.

Not saying that this situation was ideal.

"We're-" Janis felt it hard to breathe as Gretchen's grip tightened. "We are not friends. Leave me alone."

"Aw, c'mon Janis. It's just good pals messing around. Don't be a buzzkill."

Janis's face twisted into pain as it went from hard to breathe to impossible. "Put. Me down. Please." She rasped out.

"Fine." Gretchen rolled her eyes, roughly placing Janis back on the tiny pick up zone.

Having Gretchen actually listen to her somehow didn't make Janis feel better. "What?" She said quietly.

"You said put me down. I did."

Janis swallowed harshly, stepping back.

"Are you not used to people listening?" Gretchen asked. Her town was nothing short of vile. She actually sounded a lot like Regina. "What about that new friend of yours? Does he not listen? I mean, it is pretty clear he doesn't actually care."

Don't listen to her, don't listen to her.

Gretchen leaned over the edge of the tiny pick up, getting uncomfortably close to Janis. But to the smaller girl's dismay, she took a step back only to meet a wall.

"You think people actually care about the space dyke?"

Janis could feel the mint gum Gretchen was chewing on her breath.

"Regina was right from the beginning, you're pathetic."

Gretchen leaned back grinning to herself about how Janis had pushed herself against a wall with her hands covering her face.

"I've missed out little hangouts."

"I haven't." Janis snapped without thinking. She instantly froze as Gretchen's eyes widened.

"Wow, that was rude."

"I'm sorry, sorry. I- sorry." Janis said softly, an embarrassing level of fear laced in her voice. Gretchen took immense pleasure to this.

Why does she do this?

I guess when you're bossed around by a bitchy tiny, to be a source of fear to another is enjoyable for Gretchen in a sick twisted way.

But why me? There are so many times in this school.

Gretchen poked her finger into Janis's side like a child testing out a new toy. Janis fell backward against the wall again.

"Hmm. Not much has changed. You're still pitiful."

"And you're still a bitch." Janis spat, trying to regain at least a bit of her dignity. She could feel bruises forming on her arms under her jacket and her ribs hurt.

She had a headache and the world was spinning a bit but it may have been from her previous lack of oxygen.

Gretchen's deprecating statements were circling in her head as Gretchen continued to throw more.

Just a tiny.

Worthless.

Weak.

Space dyke.

Nobody actually likes her.

"Gretchen?" Both Janis and Gretchen turned to see Karen walking down the hall, Regina in tow.

Janis stiffened, knowing it was going to get worse from here.

Regina took one look at Janis before shrugging. "Let's go, Gretch. I want to get home."

"Of course, Regina."

Janis almost laughed at how fast Gretchen's personality changed from bitch to kiss up bitch.

Asshole.

She watched the trio walk off like Gretchen hadn't just spent the better of ten minutes harassing Janis.

The hallway was dead silent as the clicking of heels faded. The headache was yet to subside and Janis's arms felt sore with each movement. She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool at her wrists. Sure enough, her upper arms were staring to form one big bruise. She slipped her jacket back on properly as footsteps approached again. Janis froze, preparing for the worst.

"Jan?"

Oh.

It's Damian.

Janis tried to mentally shake off the past ten minutes as she turned to her friend with what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"Hey."

Damian frowned and Janis instantly knew she was unsuccessful.

"You okay?"

No.

"Tits."

"You sure."

No.

"Yes, Damian." She forced a small laugh. "I'm all good."

Damian placed his hand down allowing Janis to climb on before walking, holding Janis close to him. They were gonna take the late bus to Damian's which was something Janis never minded doing. Except, this time, Janis wasn't mentally ready to sit on a primarily giant bus. The only time tinies went on this bus was when they were with giant friends, and that was never often. It meant Janis would very likely be the only tiny on the bus.

Her mind flashed back to Gretchen. Not even just today, everything she did in the past.

Before Janis had Damian.

Before she was space dyke.

Before-

No.

Janis needed to calm down.

She was not gonna work herself into a panic attack over a small incident.

She felt Damian stop walking and she looked up. They weren't outside, or by the bus stop. Damian had ducked into the courtyard.

She glanced up at him, confused.

"I don't care what you say, you're not okay. I can tell." He placed Janis down at the tiny platform and crouched down to be eye level. "I'm not asking you to open up, you clearly don't want to. But I'm worried about you."

Janis shifted her weight between her feet. The 'I'm sorry' felt caught in her throat. Its what she would say the Gretchen, to avoid conflict. To avoid getting hurt.

Damian wasn't gonna hurt her.

She avoided his gaze anyway.

"I saw Gretchen, before you came."

Damian knew, to an extent, what that meant. He sucked in a breath, leaning back. "Are you okay? Physically."

Janis shrugged. "Nothing broken."

Damian gently rubbed a finger down her jacket sleeve and Janis jumped back trying to repress a hiss of pain. She hadn't realized the bruises were that bad.

Damian hummed knowingly. "Uhuh. Can you take off your jacket?"

Janis knew it wasn't a command. He wasn't gonna force her to do anything, but she felt obliged anyway. She slipped her jacket off, shivering a bit and the cool air of the outdoors.

She didn't even need to look down at the damage. Anger flashed behind Damian's eyes and she knew enough.

"Gretchen- did that?"

Janis looked down, her eyes trained on the laces to her boots.

"That's no okay, Janis."

"I know."

"She can't do that."

Janis shrugged. "She can, actually. Because she did. It wasn't that bad this time."

While it was shitty in the moment, Janis could handle the grabbing, the teasing, even the flicking.

But those days when all the plastics went to the Smith's, when Regina and Karen weren't in the room-

Those were the bad days.

The days Janis couldn't handle.

The yelling.

The pain.

The air born feeling that came with falling.

It was too much.

Janis could feel ghost fingers jab at her, sharp nails hurting more than anything.

She hugged herself slightly, trying to will the memories away. She wasn't going to break down at school. She could wait till she was home. Without Damian worrying, without the risk that somebody other than the giant in front of her would see.

"I'm sorry." Janis whispered. She felt so stupid. She swore to herself after the locker incident that she wouldn't let any of the plastics get to her like this.

And look where she was.

Before Damian could respond, the door to the courtyard opened. It was odd because the only people left in school were either taking the bus or getting a ride home.

Janis looked past Damian and-

Fuck.

All three plastic, in all their glory.

Gretchen, who looked a lot timider then 20 minutes ago, stood next to Karen, with Regina on the blonde's shoulder.

Damian turned around to see who walked in.

"Hello, art freaks," Regina announced. "We were just passing through. I came for the beautiful scenery, I didn't expect trash."

Gretchen laughed softly and Janis's eyes narrowed.

Damian stood fully, his attention no longer on Janis.

"Damian, y'know you don't have to hang out with space dyke. Nobody would blame you if you didn't want to."

The words out of Regina's mouth sounded just like Gretchen's.

They really needed more original comebacks. Damian said something, but Janis wasn't paying attention. She squirmed under the stare Gretchen had locked on her.

She wouldn't try anything.

Regina was here.

Well, no that not a good reason.

Damian was here.

Gretchen wouldn't dare.

Right?

She hoped she wouldn't.

Janis wouldn't be able to handle it.

It was too much earlier.

And now shes worked up.

It's worse.

She snapped out of her frozen fear as Gretchen took a step forward. Even though she was half a courtyard away, Janis flinched back a bit.

Damian raised his hand up in front of Janis defensively. "Don't you dare, Gretchen."

"Aw cmon, Damian. Jan and I are friends."

Again with the Jan nickname? That's Damian's nickname. Who said Gretchen could attach it to bad memories.

Janis stepped back further onto the tiny platform.

"No, you're not." Damian was getting visibly angry. "You're not her friend and as her actual friend I'd appreciate it if you left her alone."

Gretchen stepped back in line with Karen, looking a little scared. "You don't need to speak for her, yknow."

"Well, you don't listen when she tried to speak for herself."

Both their voices were getting raised. Regina looked bored at most, Karen was on her phone and Janis- Janis was shaking.

Too much yelling.

It felt too familiar.

She knew the pain would come next.

For the fifth time in the past hour, ghost fingers wrapped tightly around her lungs. But this time- Janis couldn't find the energy to stop them.

She hugged her jacket closer to her defensively.

She could almost see herself back at Karen's house. Alone with Gretchen.

The yelling in front of her didn't feel real. The memories did.

"No," Janis said softly. "I'm sorry." She wasn't talking to anyone in particular. There were tears in her eyes and she felt stupid.

Stupid, small, insignificant.

Pathetic. Pitiful. Annoying. Her memories of Gretchen provided some words as well.

She flinched, her head snapping up as the courtyard door slammed shut.

The plastics left.

The courtyard was quiet as Damian turned back to her. The deafening sound just made her memories seem louder.

Damian crouched down again. "Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry." Janis repeated. it was the only phrase on her mind. The only thing she could think.

Apologize. Don't give her a reason to hurt you. Just apologize. Don't upset Gretchen. Apologize.

"Jan-" Damian reached forward and Janis flinched backward. Both their eyes widened at what just happened. Janis had never done that before. Not to Damian.

"I- oh my god. I'm sorry, I-"

Apologize. Apologize. Apologize.

"Janis, please breath." Damian retreated his hand.

Janis tried to take a breath but it felt as if her lungs weren't working. "I didn't mean to." She rasped out.

Damian frowned. "Jan, I'm not upset."

Jan. When it came from Damian, it felt warm like a hug all in its own. It wasn't condescending or teasing. Janis lowered her shoulders trying to relax.

"What happened?" Damian asked once Janis got her breathing in check and emotions under control.

"The yelling." Janis rocked back and forth on her heels. "It just- I dunno. I was already worked up and-" Her voice trailed off, coming up with no decent explanation.

Damian took it though. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't you."

He nodded. "Is it okay for me to touch you now?"

Janis hesitated. She wasn't sure. Right now, the thought of contact made her tense up. But it wasn't Gretchen or any other plastic. It was Damian. He wouldn't hurt her.

Besides, they had a bus to catch.

"Sure." Janis said softly.

Damian nodded, reaching out and placing his hand down, letting Janis get on when she was ready.

She climbed on with the mental reassurance that, its Damian.

"So, yelling?" He mumbled as he brought Janis close to his chest.

"Yeah."

"I'll have to work on that."

Janis felt flooded with appreciation for the boy holding her. He was there for her when nobody else was. He stuck by Janis at her low and celebrated with her at her highs. He put in the effort to make sure Janis felt loved and safe. She loved him so much.

Janis leaned back into Damian's hand as he walked, already feeling a bit better.

gretchen im so sorry bby ily TAGSSSS @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

#g/t mean girls #tiny janis #giant gretchen #giant damian #g/t #Giant/tiny #g/t writing

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natashasbanner · 4 years ago

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Sweater Weather

Harry lends Macy one of his sweaters fully expecting her to return it. But Macy has other ideas.

A/N: This loosely based on a dialogue prompt I found on Tumblr that I can't find anymore. Just shameless fluff cause that's all I can seem to write these days. Please enjoy :D

Also on AO3

Movie night in the park, Maggie’s idea of course. They brought blankets and snacks and Mel picked a spot near the back of the surprisingly large crowd. There were children running around and the smell of popcorn in the air and despite the hard ground and the chill setting in as the movie started, Harry was enjoying himself immensely.

“I always thought these types of events only happened in movies,” Macy said from beside him.

Harry chuckled, but it was Maggie who spoke up from Macy’s other side.

“You need to get out more, Mace,” she said, her eyes focused on the screen ahead of them.

“We used to come all the time when we were kids,” Mel added.

Harry caught Macy’s small smile as she looked at her sisters who were laid out on the blanket beside her. He wasn’t sure how they could see the screen like that, but this was their tradition that they were sharing with Macy and himself so who was he to question their methods.

Macy leaned against his side and took his hand and he was shocked at how cold her fingers were.

“Did you bring a jacket?” he asked, taking both of her hands in his.

“I’m fine,” she said, but she shivered against him.

He chuckled and let her hand go long enough to take off his jacket and removed the sweater he wore underneath.

“Take it,” he said, setting it in her lap and putting his jacket back on.

“I said I was okay,” Macy argued, but she was already slipping her arms in the sleeves.

“And yet your fingers have turned to icicles.”

She narrowed her eyes, but pulled the sweater over her head and pulled the zipper up to her chin. “There.”

“Better?” he asked with a smile, raising his eyebrows.

Her expression softened and she smiled before laying her head on his shoulder. “Yes, thank you.”

“Well I would be remiss in my duties as a whitelighter if I let you freeze while I sit by and enjoy a movie,” he said, smirking when she swatted at his arm.

“I appreciate you sacrificing you’re sweater for the greater good,” she said, taking his hand again.

“It’s my pleasure.” He brought their hands up to kiss the back of her hand. “But that is one of my favorites so I will be needing it back as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get it back to you,” she promised, squeezing his hand.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Mel shushed them with a pointed look and he fell silent.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

He straightened and closed the drawer he’d been going through. Slowly, he turned to meet Macy’s eyes. She stood in the doorway of her room, a towel wrapped tightly around her. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes were narrowed.

“I’m looking for my sweater,” he said with a huff.

A smile tugged at her lips and she stepped further into the room. “You’re wearing a sweater.”

Harry rolled his eyes and tugged at the collar of the sweater.

“I’m aware,” he said. “But I want the one I leant to you.”

Her smile morphed into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes. “Where’s my sweater?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Macy,” he said softly, taking a step toward her. “I’d really like my favorite sweater back, please.”

“What’s wrong with the one you’re wearing?” Macy raised her eyebrows and walked into her closet.

“Nothing, I’d just prefer the one you have,” he argued. “And you promised to get it back to me.” She poked her head out of the closet, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I did,” she conceded.

Harry chuckled and shook his head when she disappeared again. “I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ in there.”

Macy emerged from the closet, dressed for work with her hair still wrapped up in her towel.

“But, I never said when I’d give it back.”

Harry groaned and scrubbed his hands down his face while she just laughed from her spot at the vanity.

“I’ll find it eventually,” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “This house is only so big.”

“Good luck with that,” she teased.

He shook his head, unable to hide the grin tugging at his lips. “This isn’t over,” he promised as he left her to finish getting ready.

He was going to get that damn sweater back, if only to wipe that smug look off of her face.

It was late when Harry finally packed up his office and orbed to the foyer of the manor. He’d stayed on campus late to catch up on grading, taking advantage of the short reprieve they seemed to be having from demon fighting.

He set his briefcase by the door and shrugged out of his coat. He heard movement from upstairs and the muffled sounds of Maggie’s study playlist playing from her room.

He set his sights on the kitchen and headed to make himself a cup of tea and find something to eat before he went up to bed. He did a double take when he passed the living room and a smile spread over his face at the sight before him.

Macy was curled into arm of the couch, a throw blanket draped over her legs, fast asleep. Her laptop sat on the coffee table with a half full cup of tea beside it and Harry imagined she’d been watching Heaven’s Vice for the thousandth time. What caught his eye though was the sweater she wore, his sweater.

She had the collar pulled up to her nose and he could see that her arms weren’t in the sleeves, but crossed over her chest in the sweater.

He took a step toward her and the floor creaked under his foot and she stirred, her head shooting up as she blinked rapidly.

“Hey,” she said, quickly slipping her arms through the sleeves of the sweater and rubbing at her eyes. “You’re home.”

“I am,” he said, crossing the living room to sit on the couch beside her. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

She yawned and she leaned over to drop her head on his shoulder. “I was waiting for you to get back.”

Warmth flooded him and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss her temple.

“I know,” she muttered, snuggling closer to him. “I wanted to.”

He smiled and let her go when she leaned back.

“If you want to head upstairs, I won’t be long,” he said, standing from the couch. “I’m just going to make a quick cup of tea.”

Macy yawned again and nodded, reaching out to close her laptop. “Don’t take too long.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He bent down and kissed her forehead, collecting the used tea cup from the coffee table. He glanced over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen to watch her stand from the couch with the blanket and carry her laptop to the stairs.

Harry ducked his head and smiled as he continued into the kitchen. He snorted to himself while he made his tea.

He’d meant to say something about the sweater, make some joke about her holding it hostage, but he realized he didn’t care if he ever got it back.

#hacy #macy x harry #my fic #please enjoy :D #i was gonna post this a couple days ago but i added the middle part and had to edit it again

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connorandersons-blog · 5 years ago

Text

To The Library

Rating: Explicit Word count: 5,777 Warnings: homophobic language, slight violence Ship: Markus/Connor AU: Human Chapter 3/5

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The date, no not a date, comes quickly. Markus barely has time to even process it’s happening today when he wakes up. Thankfully, Carl knows, and before he planned on getting ready he shoos him out. Apparently, he had been looking increasingly worried the closer it got to time.

He rummaged through his drawers, trying to find a suitable outfit. He moved to his closet when he didn’t find anything suitable. Thankfully he finds what he’s looking for and quickly pulls it on, checking in the mirror.

The white t-shirt is soft against his skin, and the black jeans are just tight enough. He pulls on white sneakers and throws on his long black coat, pulling the look together. Not too lousy, he didn’t appear too formal while still looking like he tried.

He gave himself a nod in the mirror before jogging down the stairs, calling out a quick goodbye to Carl.

The bus ride is a little longer than when he’d just go to the library, but he doesn’t mind. His leg is bouncing the whole, but he doesn’t try to stop it. Better to get the energy out now.

He has to double-check he has his wallet when he gets off, and sighs happily when he feels it in his jacket pocket. He wasn’t sure he’d love through it if he forgot.

He jogs up the cafe, The Rolling Scones (heh), opening the door. He’s instantly hit in the face with the smell of coffee and baked goods, making his stomach grumble.

He made sure to eat very little so he wouldn’t get too full, but enough that he wouldn’t be stuffing his face. Even if this wasn’t an actual date he still wanted to impress Connor.

He glances around the cafe, and can’t help but feel impressed. The art is actually pleasing and there are no doubles of the same art. The tables are cute and the atmosphere feels welcoming.

Then he spots him.

He’s sitting at a table, scrolling through his phone with his glasses on. Oh, how those glasses were going to be the death of him. Connor has a cream sweater on with a white button-up shirt underneath, just snug enough to show definition. His pants on tight lighted blue jeans; they almost looked painted on.

He walks over, and Connor glances up when he gets close. His eyes widen for just a second before he grins. “Markus! I wasn’t sure if you wanted to order together or not.”

“We can order now if you want.” He suggests. Connor nods and stands (which, how does he even move in those jeans holy fuck?) walking over.

Once again he has the urge to reach out and hold Connor’s hand as they walk to the counter, but resists the urge by sticking his hands in his pockets.

Once they finally get up to the counter he already knows what he wants, having been decided while they waited in line. “I’ll have the Pot de Thé with sencha, and the raspberry Crème Brûlée, please.” He says, the lady behind the counter nods and pulls the food out, putting it on a plate before turning more towards Connor.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have Thé Glacé Uniques with Jasmine, and a lemon raspberry tart,” he says, pronouncing the French perfectly. That was still impressive but also really fucking hot.

“And who’s paying?” She asks them when they get to the register.

“I will,” they say at the same time. Markus already has his wallet out but Connor swats at his hands.

“Let me.” Connor insists, trying to pull his own wallet out

Markus shakes his head, pulling out his card. “I invited you, I don’t mind paying. Just let me, love, I want to.” The pet name slipping out. He’s ready to apologize until he sees Connor’s face go deep red. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted just slightly.

“Ah… Okie.” He says softly, ducking his head. Oh fuck, he was too adorable like this. He’d buy him anything he wanted if he’d get this flustered.

Markus pays and they grab their plates and make their way back to the table. They’ll have to get up again when their drinks are ready, but for now, they sit.

“This place is really lovely, I like the art,” Connor says, glancing around.

Markus nods but keeps looking at Connor. He’d look at Connor over art any day. “It is, I’m glad we came.”

Connor glances but at him with a wide smile and nods. He picks up his fork and takes a bite, and then-oh fuck-moans. He outright moans, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “So good,” Connor sighs out, opening his eyes again.

He had no idea what he was doing to Markus, did he? Oh, how he wanted to reach over and just pull Connor into a kiss, and taste the tart on his tongue. He didn’t, instead, picking up his own fork.

He almost moans too when he takes a bite. He was definitely coming here again and hopefully with Connor. “Damn, this is amazing.”

A person calls their names and they both stand, walking over to get their teas. He watches as Connor puts barely any sugar or cream in his. He wanted to remember what he liked just in case.

He lets his tea bags steep a bit longer before taking a slow sip. It’s just as delicious as the food. It also smells heavenly and he has to stop himself from gulping it down. This place was definitely going to be popular.

“Have you read any of the books I suggested? If not it’s totally fine!” Connor says, then bites down on his fork, even though nothing is on it.

“I have! I’ve gone through half of them, and they are all really good. I really enjoyed the Artemis Fowl book; I’ll definitely have to read the next one.”

That seems to prompt Connor into talking. He talks about the book without spoiling it. He lets Connor ramble, simply enjoying listening to him talk. He’d probably even listen to him if he read the dictionary.

He also uses his hands to talk, occasionally pushing up his glasses. He doesn’t even seem to take a break to eat, though Markus is almost done with his by then.

He replies when it feels right and nods when appropriate. He doesn’t want to cut him off or make him self-conscious. He rests his elbow on the table and leans against his hand as he listens.

Connor finally takes a small break, giving Markus a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I know I talk a lot.”

Markus quickly shakes his head. “No, no! You’re fine. I enjoy listening to you talk about books. I can see how much you love them.”

Connor takes a long gulp of his tea, sighing happily. “Thanks. I’ve been told I can be a bit much.” Oh, he was ready to slap whoever told him that, and he wasn’t a violent person normally.

“Seriously, talk as much as you want. I’m enjoying myself immensely.” He took a long sip of his cooled down tea. Connor’s face flushed but he started to talk again.

A few people give them dirty looks the longer they sit there, but Markus completely ignores them in a favor of listening and watching Connor.

A few strands of hair keep falling to his face, and each time he brushes it away with a huff. Then, he gets really going and doesn’t brush it away. Markus doesn’t think, just leans over and pushes it away for him.

Connor cuts off with a slight squeak, and Markus pulls his hand back. “Sorry, I uh. You just didn't…” he trails off. Why couldn’t he just keep his hands to himself? He probably ruined it and he inadvertently interrupted Connor. Great.

He was right though in his assumption. Connor’s hair is amazingly soft to touch, and now he can’t stop thinking about tugging on the hair. Would Connor like that?

“Oh,” Connor breathes out. “I, uh, thank you?” He blinks a few times, fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah, course.” He takes another sip of his drink to stop anything stupid from coming out of his mouth.

Connor finishes his tart and then his tea. “I’ve talked so much, oh goodness. Uh, what’s your favorite color?”

He can’t help the small chuckle. “I like blue, you?”

“I really like yellow, but also green. Or like a dusty blue. There are just so many colors to pick from.” It didn’t surprise him too much that yellow was one of his favorites. He seemed the type to have a lot of plants in his house too.

He was going to ask Connor what his favorite book was, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to decide. Even with the few books, he read he wouldn’t be able to pick a favorite. They each were unique in their own ways.

Connor looked down and checked his watch, eyes going wide. “Fuck, I need to get back to work.” Huh, he may have a new kink. Hearing Connor curse was very, very pleasant. “I’m sorry, I totally lost track of time.”

Markus quickly waves him away, “don’t worry, I did too.” He stands. “When do you think I can see you again?” He has to stop himself from cringing. He probably sounded too eager, but he couldn’t help it.

“Well, your book is due in five days, so I better see you in more than six.” Connor grins, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything.

They both quickly turn their head when they hear a shot from outside. Before he can even tell what’s happening Connor is out the door.

He follows quickly, taking in the scene. Five large men, pushing around a younger woman. When they get there the woman is on the ground.

Markus pulls out his phone, calling the police. Then his eyes got even wider. Connor steps up and taps one of the men on the shoulder. Then, holy fuck punches the man in the face.

He moves around so easily, dodging punches and easily taking down the five men. No one would ever guess he’s a librarian. He wants to help, but he knew he’d just be in the way.

Thankfully Connor somehow moved the fight so the woman wouldn’t get hurt, and he quickly runs over to her, checking her over. She doesn’t have too much damage, but she’ll definitely be sore tomorrow.

The police arrive and Markus glances back over a Connor. He still looks adorable somehow even as he wipes blood from his nose.

He only lets the woman go when an officer comes over. He quickly walks up to Connor and pulls him into a hug.

Connor stiffens and Markus still doesn’t pull away. He knew he used to be a detective but that didn’t mean he should throw himself into a fight. “You could have been hurt.” He mumbles.

Connor slowly relaxes, obviously not used to being hugged. He reaches around and gently hugs him back. “Had to do something.”

Markus sighs and pulls away. “Yeah, but fighting five men? What I’d they had better training than you? You could have gotten seriously injured.” He held him by his shoulders, refusing to let go yet.

“Well, then I would have done my best to hold them off until help came. Shit, I need to sit.” Connor sways. Markus grips him and slowly helps him to sit.

“Are you ok? What are your symptoms?” He asks clearly.

Connor brings his hand up to his chest and closes his eyes for a second. “One of them got me in the chest. Damn this hurts.”

Markus moves Connor’s hand away then leans over and presses his ear to his chest. Other than a noticeably fast heartbeat it sounds fine, but that was just with his ear. If he had his equipment he’d be able to tell for sure.

“I was shot in the heart, that’s why I had to stop being a detective. That short burst would have been fine if they didn’t punch me here.” Connor groans. Damn. He had a feeling he had gotten shot, but he didn’t know where.

“Alright, what do you need?” He takes Connor’s wrist, feeling his pulse. If it gets too high he’ll take Connor to the hospital whether he wants to go or not.

Connor leans forward, resting his head against Markus’s shoulder. “Just to rest for a second, I’ll be fine.” A police officer starts to walk over but he holds up his hand.

He needs Connor to calm down and not stress for a second. He reaches out and gently holds him, rubbing circles into his back. Once he’s calm enough he gives a nod to the officer.

“Hey, Connor.” The man says, crouching down. He honestly shouldn’t be too surprised. “Just so you know Hank, Gavin and Caelum are on their way.”

Then Connor groans incredibly loudly not bothering to move his head from Markus’s shoulder. “Markus, did you tell them I was involved?” Oh… he hadn’t thought of that. He had just told the dispatch officer that there were a fight and Connor was helping.

“Yeah?” He shrugs one shoulder, still rubbing circles into his back.

“Alright, well I better stand up before they get here. If I don’t they’ll get me an ambulance, and I don’t need one.” He says, pulling back from Markus.

The police officer-Chris Miller his name tag says- helps him up. “Damn, you have the worst luck kid.” Chris laughs, shaking his head.

Connor glances around and gives the other officers a wave. A few seem to want to come over, but their hands are full of the idiots.

Markus stays close to Connor, ready to help if need be. He didn’t get his nursing degree for nothing.

“How many times did you get punched?” Chris asks, glancing over at Markus but keeping his focus on Connor.

Connor groans again. “Twice.”

“You’re getting sloppy.” Sloppy? He fought five guys! Markus would have been punched at least six times, but apparently, two is sloppy for Connor.

“Fuck off… wait. Fuck. Chris, Caelum is coming too? Oh no. He’s going to kick my ass.” That was the most he’s ever heard Connor curse and he couldn’t decide if he was more turned on or worried.

Well, he had wanted to meet the people Connor talked about, but he hadn’t thought it would be like this.

Before Chris can say anything a car pulls up with flashing lights. Markus doesn’t even have to guess if it’s them because a man steps out looking almost exactly like Connor.

His hair is straightened and his eyes are blue but other than that they are identical. Huh, did Connor curl his hair or did Caelum straighten his?

The group walks up and Hank pulls Connor into a hug. The other man, who he assumed is Gavin, gives a tight-lipped smile.

“That was fucking stupid you asshole! Jesus, you could have died! You retired for a reason you dick.” Hank says, pulling back. “What were you doing here anyway, I thought you worked today.”

“I was with Markus,” Connor points out. Then all of them turn to him. Oh goodness, he really hoped they weren’t going to blame him for this. He probably should have tried harder to stop Connor, but he doubted that he would have succeeded.

Then Caelum walks up to him looking him up and down. His gaze is so much harsher than Connor’s, and he’s ready to turn and run.

“Hm, so you’re Markus.” He says, voice so much colder than Connor’s. If he didn’t know any better he wouldn’t think they were related at all. Could Connor be this intense and intimidating too? Well… most likely but he would probably find it hot.

“I-I am. Markus Bennett, you must be Caelum. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He says, sticking out his hand.

Caelum glanced down and took his hand, giving it a shake, but then he didn’t let go. He winces at the pain when Caelum squeezes his hand just a bit too hard. Fuck he could easily break any bone in his body if he wanted to.

“Caelum,” Connor sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder. Caelum squints his eyes just slightly before letting his hand go.

“Apologies. Markus, meet Gavin, he’s my partner in both work and personal life.” Caelum says. Gavin gives him a nod.

“Oh, he’s also Elijah’s brother!” Connor points out. It was really a small world.

“Ok, ok that’s enough, Connor are you ok? How’s your heart?” Hank asks. Connor sighs and gives Markus a look.

He swats Hank away. “I’m fine! I’ll give my statement but then I really do need to get back to work.”

Even he was ready to protest. He couldn’t just let Connor go back to work if something could happen to him. “You really shouldn’t. I’m sure the library could survive without you for one day.”

That seems to get Caelum’s approval. He gives Markus a slight nod in thanks. “I agree. Either you stay with me and Gavin, or Hank.”

“He could stay with me?” He suggests then shrinks back just slightly at Caelum’s gaze. “I’m a nurse, so I can make sure he’s ok.”

Connor glances at him then sighs, shoulders shagging. “Fine, fine! You’re definitely the best option out of them.”

The others make indignant sounds, but Markus can’t help the smile that spread across his face. Connor was picking him to spend his time with.

Hank glances between them before smiling slowly. Oh no. He knew that look. That was the same look Carl would give him when he talked about Connor and had no doubt the look he’d give him when he brought Connor home with him. “Alright, but make sure to text me.”

They took Connor’s and Markus’s statement before they could leave. “I would stay with you at the library, but I need to check on Carl.” He says, walking towards the bus.

“That’s fine! I’ve wanted to come to visit but didn’t know how to say so.” He wanted to slap himself. If he had known Connor wanted to come over he would have asked him weeks ago!

Thankfully the bus is there when they get to the stop, and they climb in. There wasn’t any place to sit, so the stand beside each other, holding onto the handles. The bus started and jolted, both of them swaying into each other.

Connor reached up and stopped himself from moving too much by grabbing Markus’s arm. “Shit, sorry.” He mumbled letting go once stable.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. The bus can be very bumpy.” He was used to it, but he’d take any excuse to ��accidentally’ touch Connor. He was going to hell, wasn’t he?

Every now and then when the bus got bumpy either Markus or Connor would reach out for each other, stopping themselves from moving around too much.

When they got there he honestly didn’t know why he hadn’t done this week’s earlier. His stomach was in knots as he walked in, putting his wallet on the table and slipping his shoes off.

“Carl, I’m home!” He calls out.

“How was your date?” Carl asks from the living room. Oh, he was absolutely going to kill him.

He was actually planning on jumping off a cliff at this point. “It-it’s not a date, Carl. Connor is with me.” He was doing everything in his power not to stare at Connor.

Carl rolls in with a large grin on his face. Definitely murder. Murder and then the cliff. “Connor, you’ve grown so much.” He says.

Connor steps forward and Markus glanced at him. His face is twisted just slightly and bright red. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.” Oh, he remembered him alright.

“Course I did,” he waves him off. “Last I heard you and Caelum were going into the academy. And you were with… Matt was it?” His jaw was on the ground. Carl was such a little shit. Not too surprised since he’s friends with Elijah.

“Oh, yeah. Matt… he didn’t last too terribly long. He uh… tried to get me and Caelum to sleep with him. At the same time.” Connor cringed. Markus was so going to punch whoever this Matt was.

It seemed Carl had the same idea from his face. “Hm, well do you have anyone now? From what I heard from Markus, you’re doing great at the library.” Now it was his turn for his face to heat.

“Oh, well thank you. I, uh, no. Not really? I… there is this one person but I doubt it’ll happen. They are definitely way too good for me.” He felt his heart sink. Connor hadn’t told him about anyone, but maybe they weren’t as close as he thought.

Fuck, that hurt. He should have known he had his eyes on someone. They’d probably get together too. Who wouldn’t want to be with Connor?

“Hm, well come on in. Can’t have you two just standing there.” Carl says. Markus walks up and takes hold of the wheelchair’s handles.

He couldn’t help but watch Connor look around. He remembered the first time Carl brought him here. His eyes were the size of saucers. His younger self would never have thought he’d have all this now.

“Do you want a drink?” Carl asks. Markus pushes him to the couch.

“I shouldn’t, but thank you.” He wondered if that was because of his heart or something else.

Connor motioned to the couch and Connor sat. “Scotch, neat, as usual?”

“Absolutely.” Carl sighs, giving a wink to Connor.

Markus shakes his head fondly and grabs the alcohol. “Okay! But you know what your doctor would say…”

“Yeah… well, he can kiss my ass! I’m old enough to choose my own medication.” Markus sighed and shook his head.

He obviously knew Carl’s doctor, and he wouldn’t argue with him. Carl, however, loved to. “You’re only 75.”

He hands over the drink anyway, pouring himself a very small amount. He never drank too much as he had to always be ready to take care of Carl if need be.

“Markus sit, sit,” Carl says, motioning to the couch. Markus gave him a half-hearted glare and sat down beside Connor.

He couldn’t help but watch him, and not just for the obvious reasons. He had to make sure he was ok and knew if anything happened to Connor there would be a line of people waiting to kill him.

“How is Caelum doing, is he still a detective?” Carl asks, sipping his drink.

Connor smiles and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A nervous tic or just habit? “He is. He’s doing very well and is partnered with Gavin, Elijah’s brother.”

Carl smiles and nods, “ah, Gavin was always a feisty one. He and Elijah were always getting into trouble.” Carl chuckles.

Markus leans back, putting his arm across the back of the couch. He hadn’t even realized he did it until his hand brushed Connor’s shoulder. It wasn’t like he could pull away now. Fuck. He was so used to it just being Carl and him.

Connor didn’t shy away, but he didn’t seem to move any closer, but that didn’t stop Markus from being deathly still.

“He still is. He punched me on my first day.” Connor grins. His first thought was what the fuck. The man punched Connor?! He didn’t even seem upset about it! Maybe it was some cop thing, like an initiation.

What was even odder was Carl didn’t seem surprised in the least. Even after all this time, it seemed he still had so much to learn about his life.

He also had so much to learn about Connor. He hadn’t realized how much of their conversations were book related. It made sense; Connor worked and practically lived at the library after all. Still, he should have asked more questions about Connor.

How much had even opened up himself? Most of the time he was just delighted to listen to Connor ramble about whatever book he had been reading. He knew he hadn’t told everything about his past, but he had told some.

His brain was only now catching up to do many things, and it was a bit overwhelming. He hadn’t even known he was shot in the fucking heart until today. He could have easily died and they would have never met. He’d never had seen those warm brown eyes or the way he huffs when his curly hair keeps falling into his face.

“Connor… if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get shot?” He interrupts.

Connor seemed to pause for a second. Fuck he shouldn’t have asked that it was probably a traumatic experience. “I was protecting two prostitutes.” Huh… he wasn’t really expecting that. His face must show it cause Connor chuckles.

“There was a corrupt cop, Michael Graham, who was going after prostitutes. He had gone too far with one of their friends, and two of them went after him. I got there and he pulled a gun on them. I hadn’t been wearing a vest, but I stepped in front and took the bullet. Got off a good shot before I dropped.”

He didn’t even pause before leaning over and giving Connor a half hug. He had already seen how willing Connor was to put himself in the way of danger for someone else, but this? This was so beyond that. “You could have died.”

Connor leans into the hug. “But I couldn’t let them. They are actually incredibly sweet girls and they invited me to their wedding. So I got some free food out of it.” He snorted and shook his head. At least he didn’t seem too troubled.

Connor seems to almost go completely boneless leaning against him. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Oh, he was absolutely enjoying this but he was a bit worried.

“Are you ok?” He keeps his arm around Connor, holding him just slightly.

Connor nods, resting his head against Markus’s shoulder. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night and the fight is catching up with me.” He let out a soft yarn.

Markus glanced over at Carl with wide eyes. He honestly had no idea what to do. He didn’t have any other symptoms so he was probably just sleepy.

What he didn’t know was what to do about it. They had extra bedrooms but that would mean Connor would stop leaning on him.

Carl gave him that smug look and he was ready to tell him off, but Connor snuggling closer cut him off. Well, he was stuck. It’s official. He most definitely wasn’t moving from this spot unless absolutely necessary.

He gently rubbed Connor’s arm, his hair falling into his face but he didn’t care. He’d take hair in his face if it meant Connor snuggling him. “You can sleep, love. We’ll be here.” He mumbled.

Connor slowly nods his head, eyes slipping closed. With his free hand, he gently takes Connor’s glasses off and put them on the side table. Carl gives him a look before rolling into the studio.

It doesn’t take long for Connor to be completely asleep. He can’t be truly comfortable with his head bent like that. So Markus very gently moves him so his head is instead resting in his lap. He knew he could have gotten up, but whatever.

Other than play on his phone he has nothing to do, so he pulls his phone out. He rests his other hand in Connor’s hair, gently pulling his fingers through it. It was as soft as it looked.

He messages North as Connor sleeps, sending her panicked texts. Connor just looked too adorable asleep, face completely relaxed.

She just teases him about his crush. At this point, it was a bit more than a crush but he doesn’t point that out. She doesn’t need any more information to tease him with.

He eventually puts his phone down and just lets himself relax. He paused his hand for a second and Connor makes a small noise in his sleep, pushing into his hand. He instantly starts again, smiling down at him.

Part of him wants to take a picture so he can never forget this, but that seems wrong. If they were together… then yeah, he would. But they weren’t.

Fuck, and Connor liked someone. They were probably the best person in the world if they caught Connor’s attention. If they were any less then they don’t deserve him.

Had Connor not told him because he could tell how he felt? He doubted it was anyone he knew, but as he kept seeing, it was a small world.

He knew for a fact it wasn’t any of his friends. He talked enough about Connor to them they could probably find him in a crowd, and they’d never met him before. Though, he hoped he’d get to introduce them.

North already loved him, and he had no doubt she’d feel protective over him the moment they met. He obviously didn’t need protection, but she’d be there if he did.

Josh would no doubt have exceedingly long talks about books with him. He was an English professor after all.

And Simon. Simon and Connor would get along amazingly. He had absolutely no doubt about it. Both of them were incredibly sweet and willing to sacrifice themselves if need be.

So his friends would definitely get along with Connor. It was just a matter of when they would meet. He really hoped North wouldn’t tease him too much, but that was wishful thinking.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until Connor started to stir. It was adorable to see his face scrunch up, then relax again. His hand stilled in his hair but he didn’t move it away.

Connor stretches just slightly then slowly blinks open his eyes. He looks around then up at Markus, a small smile on his face. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.” He mumbles voice gravely.

“It’s fine, how are you feeling?” He asks.

Connor sighs and blinks slowly. “Much better. That’s probably the best I’ve slept in a while.” Fuck, why was he so cute?

He went to move his hand out of Connor’s hair, but it snagged on a curl. He was ready to apologize but then Connor moans. Actually moans, out loud. He’s pretty sure both of their faces go red as they both freeze.

Their deathly silence is probably the only reason they wear the doorknob wiggle. Connor’s face becomes serious as he sits up. “Are you expecting someone?” He whispers.

Markus shakes his head, eyes wide. Connor silently stands, creeping towards the foyer. It’s amazing how silent he is. If he wasn’t staring right at him he’d have no idea he was even there.

He tried to follow just as silently but he didn’t manage it quite as well. The door opens and Connor peers around the door, tensing even further.

Before he can stop him he’s through the door and there’s a thump of a body hitting the floor.

“Ow! Who the fuck are you?” Oh shit, he knows that voice. He quickly goes in and sees Connor holding Leo down.

“Connor, Connor it’s ok. That’s Leo. He’s Carl’s son.” He really should have known it would be Leo. Connor looked back at him and slowly moved away.

“Who the fuck is this?” Leo asks again, scrambling to stand.

Markus has to hold back a smile. He really wished he could have seen Connor take him down. “Connor meet Leo, Leo meet Connor. Connor is my… friend.”

Connor glances between the two before sticking his hand out. “I’m sorry, I thought you were an intruder.”

Leo sneers at him and knocks his hand away. He’s ready to tell him off but Connor slightly shakes his head.

“Where’s Dad?” Leo says, brushing off his clothes even though he hadn’t gotten dirty.

Markus sighed and led them back into the living room, motioning to Carl’s studio. “He’s in there.”

“Fag,” Leo muttered stalking into the studio. Markus took a deep breath and closed his eyes and slowly unclenched his fists.

He jumps just slightly when he feels a hand brush against his. He opens his eyes and stares down at his hand. Connor holds his out and Markus only hesitates for a second before taking it.

Connor’s hand is warm in his, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s ok; he’s always been like this. I’m used to it.”

Connor makes a pained sound. “That doesn’t make it right. You shouldn’t have to be used to something like that.” Connor stepped closer so more than their hands were touching.

“I said it’s fine! He’s Carl’s son, I can put up with a little bigotry. What do you know anyway?” He hadn’t meant to snap out and winced when Connor sucked in a quick breath and his hand pulled away.

“I think I overstayed my welcome. Thank you for having me over. I’ll see myself out.” Connor turned quickly. He reached out but Connor was already out of reach, the door shutting quietly.

Fuck! Fuck, why did he have to mess everything up? This was entirely his fault.

“Aw did your boyfriend leave early?” Leo laughed darkly. That was the last thing he should have said.

He stalked up to him, grabbing him by the collar. “Get the fuck out.” He growled out. Leo’s eyes went wide and he scrambled away when he let him go.

His hands were shaking as the door slammed shut behind Leo. His throat tightens and he tries to hold back to wetness in his eyes.

“Shit.” He chokes out, wiping a tear away firmly. This was his fault. He knew it and he hated himself for it.

“Markus,” Carl said, coming into the room. Markus turned his head away. He shouldn’t be crying. He didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve to feel heartbroken.

He swallowed thickly, fist clenched at his sides. He tried to breathe steadily but his chest stuttered, the air catching in his throat. Carl should have left him on the street. “Do you need anything else tonight?” His voice came out monotone and small.

“No, but Markus-” he cuts him off with a nod. He doesn’t wait to hear what Carl has to say as he makes his way upstairs, locking his door behind him.

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