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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years

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Chapter 1 - Of quidditch, detentions and birthdays

series masterlist

tag list for this series: @weasleysbees all George fics: @hufflepuff5972

if you’d like to be added, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, mentions of wounds, slight mention of food, alcohol drinking

word count: 1823

a/n: hope it’s a nice opening that will keep you interested and give you the feel of the whole series; we couldn’t have a fic taking place during ootp without a classic detention with umbridge sorry

I’d love to know what you think about it!

—————①—————

Quidditch. You were decent on a broomstick, but the catching and throwing part has never been your strong suit. The summer sun was blazing hot, not helping you focus on the game. Suddenly Ron took a shot at one of the makeshift posts, the quaffle was speeding in your direction and you panicked slightly – lost your balance on the broomstick and dangled upside down. As you grasped the stick for dear life, the ball hit you square in the forehead, knocking you out.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you mocked George who was wheezing with laughter beside you. “That was years ago. Besides, it’s called the sloth-grip roll, you’re just not on that level yet” “No-no it was brilliant – you saved the game, you just weren’t there to see it anymore,” he tried to regain his composure.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. He gave you a wide grin and draped his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to his side.

You were watching the try-outs together, not really paying attention until it was Ron’s turn. In the distance, you could see Fred juggling beaters’ bats behind Angelina’s back. “D’you think he’ll get in?” you asked curiously. He shrugged and made one of his faces, so you jabbed him on the side with a finger.

“Ron’s good, isn’t he? He should get in…” you worried. “Yeah, yeah, he’s alright. You’ve seen all those other slacks, he’s got a good chance,” he reassured you.

You crossed your arms on your chest and rested your head on his side. “I hope so. It means a lot to him.”

—————①—————

“Oh but that is absolutely ridiculous!” you exasperated, “It’s fucking torture..!” you pointed at Harry’s hand.

You had been chatting with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the courtyard, late afternoon, and noticed the wound on his hand, then made them explain everything in detail. It made you furious.

“First they try to make us dumb, then re-shape us - using violence?!” you whisper-yelled, then noticed three’s terrified expressions.

“Eh hem” you heard behind your back. “Oh for fucks sake…” you mouthed silently and slouched your shoulders, sighing in defeat. “Miss Y/L/N, is it?” She knew your name well, although up until this point you tried not to step out of line, from the very first lesson with Umbridge you showed your dissatisfaction with the new regime rules. Much to Fred and George’s amusement as you usually tried to avoid conflict whenever possible.

With a stoic expression, you turned on your heel to face her. “Yes, professor?” “You have to agree this kind of language does not suit a young witch like yourself. It is in your best interest that we work on your attitude a bit as well. I’ll see you in my office after dinner, dear,” she finished with that sickening smile and walked off.

Defeated, you approached George and Fred at the table and sat down in silence. They glanced at you curiously. “Why the long face, sweet cheeks?” Fred asked, making you snicker and a small smile broke out on your face. “I-“ you elongated, “had an encounter with Umbridge.” “Oof..” grimaced George. “Yikes, you looked like you were about to maul her last class. Too bad I wasn’t there to see it this time around, what’d you do?” Fred propped his chin on his palm, abandoning the food. “She appeared behind my back in the middle of my tirade about her,” another set of oofs and acknowledging nods, “a strong-worded one…” “Oh this is brilliant, why weren’t we there…” Fred expressed with amusement.

George found the situation quite funny as well but was less expressive about it because he felt bad for you just a bit more than his twin. “I-I... I’m sure you can imagine,” you tried to drop the topic, getting busy with the plate in front of you. They didn’t know about her method of discipline and you weren’t keen on letting them know. “Tsk- whatever, don’t tell your best friends,” he pouted, then brought the conversation to their newest developments with the Skiving Snackboxes.

‘I will respect my superiors’ was written out underneath a bandage on your left hand. You’ve been successfully hiding it for almost a week, telling George you cut yourself during potions.

You felt a sharp pain and winced as he grabbed your hand to speed you up on your way to hang out by the lake. “Oh, sorry, Cherry!” he apologized immediately and stroked your hand delicately with concern, “I forgot…” You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright.” “Does it still hurt so much..?” he frowned slightly, confused, “It should’ve started healing by now…”

It would’ve if you hadn’t spent every evening in the toad’s office.

You shrugged dismissively and started walking again, George following. “I don’t think that’s good, Y/N. Maybe you should go to Pomfrey..?” “Noo, it’s fine, I’m sure it’ll heal in no time,” – just a couple more days of detention, you thought. “Well, let me see it, at least,” he said softly and you felt faint. Not only would he find out about the black quill and freak out, but you also hid it from him, deliberately, lied even.

“Y/N” he repeated in a more serious tone. “George, it’s fine, really” you still tried to shrug it off, knowing well it was a lost cause. He sensed something was off. He stopped walking, expecting you to do the same. When you looked at him, he reached out his hand for you to show him the bandage and you obliged.

You held your breath as he unwrapped the dressing. You only dared to look up at him after a few long seconds of silence.

His eyes were still trained on the words, jaw clenched and he started caressing the skin around the wound with his thumb.

He then looked at you and you spoke without words.

You were sorry for not telling him.

He was disappointed but concerned about you.

You wanted to reassure him you were holding up okay.

And he was furious with Umbridge.

“Ferula,” he cast and put his wand away as your hand got wrapped up in clean bandages.

“Please, don’t do anything stupid now…” you worried, “I don’t need revenge.” He smirked a bit, but remained rather serious, “You’ve known me for too long…”

He let go of your hand and resumed walking, putting his hands in his pockets. “I mean it, Georgie. It will have changed nothing and it’s no good if she just makes you write those stupid lines too.” You sighed, “Promise me you’ll be more careful around her. And Fred too.” “Brave of you to assume I can control him,” he snickered, making you smile. “but I can try if that’ll make you happy.” “Thank you,” you said with a big grin, wrapping your arm around his. “Speeaaking of making you happy,” he paused for emphasis, looking up into the sky, “your birthday’s coming up. You didn’t make any plans, did you?” “Mmm, depends what you’re offering.”

—————①—————

Your birthday was in the middle of the week this year, so you planned to have a proper party over the weekend. And the evening of the actual birthday, George booked for himself.

It was late, you took a shower and as per instructions – changed into comfy PJs. Excited, you walked down the steps and into the common room.

There were only a few last stragglers left in there, buried in rolls of parchment, probably writing last-minute essays.

No George in sight.

Next to the couch in front of the fire, you saw blankets and pillows spread out, and some snacks on the coffee table. Walking up closer you noticed a little note in George’s hand-writing:

Do not touch or you’ll regret it

You chuckled under your breath and the round door opened, revealing George with two mugs in hands. He was also wearing some pyjama pants and a comfy jumper.

“Heeey!” he greeted with a wide grin. “Good evening” you replied with a smile and a little nod. “That all you?” you gestured at the table as he set down the mugs. “Unless you want to count Fred’s snickering as help,” he complained sitting down and you did the same.

“Oooh, hot chocolate..!” you exclaimed leaning over the mug in front of you.

George reached behind him and revealed a bottle of firewhisky and you chuckled. “For a bit of kick.” He opened the bottle, then hovered it over your mug and glanced at you, asking for permission and you nodded.

He poured a little bit into both mugs.

“Happy seventeen!” he toasted and you clinked delicately, not to spill the hot liquid, then gave it a taste, letting its warmth pour through your bodies.

“How was your day, Cherry?” he asked, getting comfy on the pillows and wrapping both his hands around the warm mug.

You didn’t see him much that day, with the exception of meals, as you took many more N.E.W.T. classes than him.

“Alright. Went by quickly. Snape wished me a happy birthday.” “Oooh” “Yeah, I don’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. Knowing him, he could be, even with birthday wishes… how about you?” you took another sip of the hot chocolate. “Mmm... We might be getting closer to figuring out how to stop the nosebleeds,” he opened a box of biscuits, “but we need to read up on it a bit more before testing it.”

“That’s not the end of my surprises,” he said after you finished the conversation about nosebleed nougats, standing up for a moment to retrieve a small packaging he then presented to you with a giddy smile. You placed it in your lap and let your hands ghost over the ribbon, “I was about to say you didn’t have to, but then I remembered you’re a rich business owner now.” you teased him, earning a small laugh. He bit his lip and waited for you to continue.

It was a book, the newest tome of a series you and George would geek out about together. It had just come out.

Screeching out of joy you tackled him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You managed to get it already?!” you questioned. “Yup. Blood, sweat and tears it cost me, but I’ve got it,” he said proudly. “Thank you, Georgie” you gave him one last squeeze and pulled away to admire the book once more. “You’re welcome, love. D’you wanna start reading it tonight?” he asked with clear excitement in his voice. You nodded and opened the book on the first page right away.

You stayed up late that night, taking turns in reading out loud for as long as you were able to fight off the tiredness. Eventually, it was just the two of you, immersed in your favourite fantasy adventure, the soft crackling of the fire serving as a background.

You couldn’t have asked for a better seventeenth birthday.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #hp imagine

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

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When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful art that inspired this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, they helped make it flow a lot better.

Chapter 6: Mirror Our Past with a Better Future

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky being able to work with Logan in stars tailoring shop. All he knew is Logan made him feel beautiful, inside and out.

Day 5 Prompt: Past/Future

Warnings: none. If there are any please let me know!

WC: 1918

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Logan leaned back in stars stool, a quirk to stars lips as star eyed the newest frock up and down. It wasn’t a style star usually went for- elegant and flowing as it was star much preferred a lot more poof and edge when it came to dress design. Carefully taking the pins from stars mouth back into the container star took another look at stars sketch. Long, delicate looking fabric swung off the hips and just barely brushed the floor. star hadn’t added color but star knew that it faded from a rich purple to a smoky black at the bottom, trimmed with a slight frill that made it swirl across the floor. The medium scoop neck flared out into puffed sleeves that gathered at the ends to grip the wrists. star had already made the deeper purple corset covered in a delicate lace, with shining false buckles lining the front and black ribbon that actually laced it in the back.

Looking down at stars own slightly oversized jumper paired with a medium length skirt and boots laced up to stars knees star couldn’t help but laugh softly. This was definitely a far cry from what star ever thought star would wear, let alone make. Somehow though, star knew star wasn’t going to be the one wearing it, and thankfully working alone in the shop meant star could afford a side project without tripping up anyone else. Typically with more elaborate projects like this star would make a prototype first, of a slightly less fancy design, and make sure all the kinks and possible uncomfortable spots were worked out of the design and made into something star could be proud of selling. Ever since star had taken over the tailoring shop star had been working towards a single goal- making things people could feel comfortable in. But with this- it had sat in stars brain for not even a day before star had finally relented and sketched it out and set to work immediately picking out the perfect fabric for it.

Taking the needle back up star leaned close to gather the waist as carefully as star could, quick fingers moving skillfully to the tune star was quietly humming. This would certainly take a while, but star had a feeling it would be worth it.

-----

Virgil leaned back in his stool, a smile on his lips as he looked the newest frock up and down. It was stunning like everything Logan made was and he found himself caught by how grateful he was to be sitting with stars, listening to stars quiet humming as star worked diligently. He knew star used to work here alone so he was always grateful to be allowed to sit with star. It was a simple thing, far from his usual somewhat dramatic style but Logan had assured him it would look nice so he had eventually resented. Folding his legs underneath him he only smiled further at the concerned look he was given, waving it off but putting one leg back down as a compromise. He assumed the quiet huff meant he had won and settled down even further to continue admiring the other work.

The skirt was gathered at the waist and slightly poofy from the petticoat layer underneath purple plaid dominated the pattern with black accents that broke it up nicely. Swinging his current jean-clad leg he began softly humming along to the tune Logan had been repeating, harmonizing low so it wouldn’t be too much of a distraction. He beamed as Logan shot him a smile- Virgil never could resist it- and looked away with a small blush to observe the rest of the shop. It was quiet today thankfully, the emptiness being a welcome reprieve from the chaos of yesterday. There had been a slight scheduling error which meant nearly everyone had come to get their orders at the same time, clamoring for places in line while the two frantically ran back and forth trying to shove everything in boxes as neatly as they could before shooing the clients out the door and tending to the next. As good a business day as it was they had been exhausted afterwards and the day spent with just the two of them was helping to melt away the lingering anxiety.

His smile turned soft again while watching Logan carefully pin along a seam, admiring the years of skill built into the movements. He remembered the first time he had walked into the store- not realized Logan had made nearly everything there- and being awestruck at the realization of how much time and care was put into every project. This one would most likely still take a while but he had a feeling it would be worth it.

-----

Logan perked stars head up as the bell chimed at the door, managing to get one last stitch in before standing and making stars way out of the workroom. Stepping out star could just barely see a shock of purple hair moving between the racks, piquing stars curiosity enough to smooth down stars choppy, self cut mullet and make stars way over. star caught the other’s eye as star approached and star made sure to offer a kind smile to the obviously uncomfortable customer. They were gripping a couple different dress sleeves and worrying the fabric between their fingers as they shuffled their feet awkwardly.

star offered stars hand to shake, trying valiantly to be polite and not suggest a fidget cube instead for the nervous tic. “Hello, I’m Logan, star/stars pronouns please. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Virgil...he/him.” He didn’t take stars hand so Logan retracted it easily. Some people were weary of soulmates, preferring not to touch anyone’s hand before they were ready and Logan could respect that. “I uh- I like your skirt. I kinda miss wearing them so I was just browsing.”

“Is there a particular style you’re looking for?”

Licking his lips Virgil nervously glanced through the various styles on the rack, mumbling low enough Logan had to strain to hear. “No...I’m not really sure I should be wearing them anymore- just wanted to look.”

Oh. Logan knew where this person was coming from, star had felt the same way when stars pronouns had changed- wanting to pass as...well decidedly not feminine but missing the garments star had made and worn nearly all stars life. Offering an understanding smile, star turned and began sifting through the colors to try and find something simple he might be comfortable trying. “You just have to find something you’re confident in.”

-----

Virgil slid off the stool as he heard the bell chime, motioning to Logan that he could take care of it and making his way to the front of the store. Blowing his purple hair out of his eyes in a vain attempt to make it look more presentable he caught sight of someone's back to him as they browsed the racks nearest to the front of the store. Leaning against the counter he made sure to make a bit of noise before speaking up so as not to startle them. “May I help you find something?”

Throwing a smile over their shoulder they held up a comfortable looking blouse triumphantly and made their way over. “Already found it!”

Smiling at the cheerful customer he quickly rang them up and handed them their bag, waving as they left as he thought back to when he had first stepped foot through the doors. He wished he had had even half of that person’s confidence back then, instead if he remembered correctly he had nearly had a nervous breakdown over a skirt. Screwing his mouth to one side he turned on his heel and walked back into the workroom, hands on his hips as he stood next to Logan and leaned his head on stars shoulder. “You’re gonna go cross eyes if you keep squinting like that.”

Rolling stars eyes only to wince immediately after star consented and stuck the needle in a safe spot where it wouldn’t fall out. “I’m almost done anyway. Just need to patch up this side, I didn’t cut it straight enough to lay right.”

Pressing a kiss to stars cheek Virgil looked at the garment with barely contained excitement. “I love it already.”

“I just want to make you something you’ll be confident in.” Virgil smiled hearing the phrase he had heard so many years ago, remembering the effort star had gone through to find something he would like.

-----

“Come out when you’re ready.” Logan called as star hung the already discarded pieces back on the rack. Biting stars lip star glanced at stars workroom in thought. Technically the dress was done and star was sure Virgil would look beautiful in it but star wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable in something so fancy right now. Looking back as Virgil came out with the skirt hung over his arm the decision was made for stars.

“Wait here.” Shooting him a smile star left to quickly tie off the last of the stitching and tug the dress off the mannequin, grabbing up the corset as star passed through the door. Virgil’s eyes blew wide when he saw the dress, immediately going to protest but getting quickly shushed as the pile of fabric was shoved into his arms. “Go change it’s fine! I need someone to model it anyway!”

A few minutes passed during which Logan nervously worried at the skin around stars thumb, hoping star hadn’t pushed the man too far. When star finally heard the door creak and turned towards virgil however, all the nervous tension drained away leaving nothing but quiet awe.

“Oh,” star said simply.

The realization earned star a puzzled look but the brief confusion did nothing to wipe away the brilliant smile on his face. The dress fit perfectly, the ends of the flowing skirt hitting the floor just so and the deep purple contrasting nickel with his pale features. The corset smoothed out his curves while still framing him wonderfully and Logan could swear there was air in the room just a moment ago but all star could do was gape stupidly at the radiance before him.

“I must have been making that for you,” star said quietly. “You look stunning.”

Blushing profusely, Virgil raised one of his hands. “I couldn’t get the buttons…”

“Allow me.” Logan was careful to avoid making contact with his skin as star looped the buttons. Pausing suddenly as memory after happy memory flooded stars thoughts star looked down to see one finger curled tentatively around stars own, glancing back up to see Virgil smiling softly.

“I had a feeling.” He offered sheepishly.

Logan smiled, squeezing his hand in stars. “So did I.”

-----

“Come out when you’re ready!” Virgil heard Logan call for him and gave himself one last once over before deeming himself presentable. He ducked out of the dressing room giddily and twirled for his audience of one, cheeks aching from the wideness of his smile as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers excitedly.

“It fits perfectly!” He watched as Logan smiled and reached for his hand, happily taking it and squeezing.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Blushing at the compliment he leaned forward to rest his head against the others chest, drinking in stars presence and relaxing against stars.

“I love you.” He offered quietly.

Smiling, Logan enveloped him in a gentle hug. “So do I.”

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#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogicalweek #analogical week #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #trans!virgil #nonbinary!logan #logan sanders uses neopronouns #fluff #collaboration

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forbidding-souda · 4 years

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jeez, i like this blog. how about writing Soda, Kirigiri, Mukuro, Celeste, Hagakure, Ouma and Kiibo with albino s/o? some cute general hc and some hcs about dealing with their sensetive to sun skin and eyes and weak health at all, and with people who bullying them for their appearance? thanks, have a nice day.

Kazuichi Souda, Kyoko Kirigiri, Mukuro Ikusaba, Celestia Ludenberg, Yasuhiro Hagakure, Kokichi Ouma, and Kiibo with albino S/O

Ya’ll are opening my horizons to different things wait I love this.

Ever since this request popped into my ask box I’ve been excited to write it sorry it took so long! Kisses xx

-Mod Souda

Kazuichi Souda

He’s basically your designated driver when you need it.

Any questions you have at all about trying to read signs from a distance or if there’s anyone nearby that might make fun of you, he’ll answer you. He’s good at defending you.

Since he’s semi intimidating, if you’re with him, people just think wow look at the alt couple. Some people assume that you don’t naturally look like that, too.

When he first met you, he’d wave to you once you exited school, not realizing you could hardly see him with the sun outside.

You sun burn easily, too, and his first solution to this was to try and get you to wear one of his jumpers.

I mean - yeah but also no.

Once tried to convince you to wear his beanie to but you assured him that that will not protect you from the sun.

Your social scene was never too active because of the way you are. But Souda understand this too, on a less medical sense.

He always tries to get you to hang around his friends, as well.

He’s always there to remind you that you are not a curse and that he loves you, kissing your skin and holding you close.

Since you were bullied throughout your kid years, when you finally were around his friend group, you were surprised that all of them were nice.

He is a very good person to be with when it comes to things like, of course, being nervous about who you are.

He’s helpful and will work harder to get money to buy anything you need to help you live more comfortably.

Surprises you with flowers a lot. Not necessarily bouquets but just small flowers lying around your room.

His favorite thing to do is just surprise you with small things hidden around the house. Your favorite drink, small sweats, things that make you happy.

Kyoko Kirigiri

She’s a very intelligent girl, and she holds a lot of power.

“Remember to bring your sunglasses,” she’ll always remind you.

Has extra gloves for you, too.

Requests to change some of the lightbulbs in the classrooms just in case they are the type that hurt you.

She’s also a very good cuddler, too! She’ll run her fingers up and down your arms or play with your hair.

Doesn’t like to go on dates outside, which is fine by you.

Instead of outside dates, she’ll watch your favorite movies with you, or ask you questions to learn more about you.

She’s a curious cat when it comes to what makes you you.

You try to reciprocate the energy, but she doesn’t like to answer all of the questions you give her.

All the questions, all the questions, all the questions! You almost think she’s making a journal about you.

Sometimes she’ll take you out in the night in December, putting Christmas lights around the neighborhood.

Someone will have to get on the other’s shoulders, often, but that just makes everything so much funner.

Especially when the tiny bit of snow falls from the sky.

Seeing Kyoko in the snow is like watching an angel.

Mukuro Ikusaba

She doesn’t quite understand what albinism means.

But she knows that it’s something serious, and you aren’t like other people.

Anything you tell her she’ll try to remember.

For your birthday, she got you a parasol. It was your favorite color, too!

Twirling it in your hand while the two of you walk together is everything!

You got her a matching one, too, the both of you can twirl your parasol’s together.

She gets you a lot of random presents, things you don’t even know where she gets it from. Posters of your favorite musicians are you favorites.

When she moves into your house, she adds a lot of decor to your room. Things like plants, adding shelves for her books, and different stuffed animals her sister stole for her when they were homeless.

She’s very much an indoors person, but she is willing to do the shopping and cooking whenever you don’t feel well.

Can carry you, too. She’s surprisingly strong.

Not that she can carry you, let me correct myself. She will carry you.

Also will fight anyone who disrespects you.

Celestia Ludenberg

She has a collection of parasol’s in her house, and will definitely allow you to dress up in her gothic lolita clothes if you so desired.

She likes touching your skin, too, definitely.

Everything about you is beautiful to her.

Being next to you in public makes her proud that she was able to date someone like you.

Will help you in any way.

But she always wants something in return. A kiss, nothing serious. Maybe showering with her if she’s feeling lonely enough.

“You’re invited to the mansion with me when I become rich,” she coos one night, turning to her side to look at you.

To her, the invite was a serious thing. All of her life she dreamed about being alone in the house with all of those boys. But if you’re there with her, then it might be a little better.

She is dreamy when it comes to skincare, and will always massage your face. It’s usually when you come back from being outside, and the sun has bothered your eyes, she will draw her thin fingers across your face to try and ease at least some pain.

But she’s such a drama queen sometimes, wondering why you can’t just go have tea with her sometime. Both of you settled on going when the sun is down, or when the clouds are thick.

Because tea with her is fun, actually. Makes you tune into your inner lolita subculture.

Yasuhiro Hagakure

He’s a dummy sometimes.

“Hiro, can you grab my sunhat?”

“Sure thing!”

You step outside, asking him where it is.

“I forgot to get it, wait-”

His body is really large, and he can shade you if you get too overwhelmed. Not to mention that he easily drapes his jacket over you, sometimes.

This boy cares a lot!!!!

He listens to your every last word and complaint!! If you are in pain? He’s gonna take you home immediately!

A lot of strangers like to stare at you, sometimes taking pictures without you noticing.

He always calls them out, often yelling in public to defend you.

You defend him, too, sometimes having to bonk people on the head when they gawk at him.

But he’s an outdoorsy fellow when he’s not constantly in fear that the yakuza would kill him.

You don’t get to see him all that often. It’s a little disheartening.

He comes home whenever he can to give you big hugs!

Kokichi Ouma

He’s a little goofer sometimes.

Sometimes you have to go out without him, and it’ll never go well.

You’ll be almost out the door. “Where are my sunglasses?”

“Oh, I don’t know, S/O. Where are they?”

“You little shit.”

He always wants to go with you when you go outside. Just because he likes hanging out with you, also because he thinks your routine is very interesting.

Sneaks up on you all the time. Especially in public.

It’s your least favorite thing ever when he does it when it’s sunny outside.

But if someone tries to bother you, though, he will trip them or spit on them or even push them out of the way.

A lot of his DICE members will join in too, terrorizing them even days after.

Every time he spends the night, he wakes up earlier than you, and always makes you a cup of tea/water/coffee for you when you wake up.

He definitely gives you hugs from behind, too. Not even to surprise you. He just really likes wrapping his arms around you from that angle.

Draws you little pictures of yourself to leave around the house. It’s weird when he hasn’t came over in a while and yet you still find little post-it notes all over.

Kiibo

He has a very big brain! But he still asks a lot of questions about it.

He makes, almost forces, you to eat a lot of healthy foods so your physical health can improve a bit. It’s very annoying, but you do it for him.

Surprise kisses are what he’s good at! He will wake you up with kisses, give you nightly kisses before he turns off, and give you kisses throughout his day.

And he keeps his eyes on you!! Like all the time!!

Because he worries, and he tries not to let you know, which fails.

“Kiibo, you don’t have to worry.”

“I-I’m not worried! I just... love you a lot.”

You laugh, “you are worried because you love me.”

It makes him blush every time you tell him that.

He loves you with all of his heart, it’s scary sometimes!

He didn’t think it was possible to love someone so much!

So he likes hearing you say you love him all the time.

He doesn’t like the sun that much, and his ventures outside are shortlived, so you don’t have to worry about being forced to go out for whatever reason.

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #kazuichi souda #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda #kazuichi soda x reader #kyoko kirigiri #mukuro ikusaba #kyoko kirigiri x reader #mukuro ikusaba x reader #celestia ludenberg x reader #yasuhiro hagakure x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #kiibo x reader

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iraacundus · 4 years

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Butterfly Lies - ONE

chapter one ✭ masterlist ✭ next ✭

mafialeader kun x reader

words: 4k

genre: fluff, smut (in later chapters), angst

warnings: mentions of knives and guns

money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didn’t have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you

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Kun had always been kind of sketchy. Even the day when you first met him at fifteen, you knew he wasn’t your average guy. You had been coerced by a group of friends to go shoplift the all night supermarket with them. You remembered standing outside with them in a group, going in two by two to steal vodka and gum. It was freezing cold and a stupid idea.

You had always been a well behaved kid so when you ‘friend’ told you it was your turn to steal some stuff you started to panic, mostly because they had asked you to go first, they thought you were naïve enough to try it.

You weren’t. But you did panic, instead of telling them you didn’t want to steal anything you just ran away. You hadn’t even know where you were running to but your feet kept moving, one in front of the other.

It only took those few minutes of you running to be lost, no idea where you were, twilight fading into dark. You had no phone and no money, you were just lost.

You started to walk back in the direction you vaguely believed to be the right one, two frightened to ask any of the people around for directions. You had never lived on the best side of town but now you were firmly in the worst part.

After about half an hour of aimless walking you sat down, head in your hands, really starting to panic. When you felt a tap on your shoulder you were sure the next conversation you were going to have would be your last.

Kun always said you were kind of dramatic.

It was him who had tapped you on the shoulder and sat down next to you, an easy going smile on his face. You felt a warmth from his presence which is why you didn’t immediately get up and run for the hills again.

You still thought he was kinda sketchy though. He was around your age, maybe a year or so older than you.

“You okay there?” He asked you, unbothered by your panicked demeanour. You shook your head.

“I’m totally lost,” you replied, deciding the details of your exact situation could be withheld. You had decided Kun seemed like the kind of guy who would have just stolen the vodka. You knew that was a biased judgement. You looked at the bruise on his cheek and his dark clothing and decided he looked like a gang member. The handle of a flick knife sticking out of his pocket hadn’t helped.

You hadn’t been wrong.

“I can give you some directions if you want, my name’s Kun by the way,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake. If all gang members were that polite you didn’t thank they deserved they rep.

Kun was rather unique you came to find out.

“I’m y/n,” you replied, shaking his hand timidly. His grip was firm in comparison, he just had a certain kind of confidence.

“Well y/n, I’ll walk you back to your neighbourhood, no need to fear when I’m around… not a lot of people mess with me.”

Looking back you could almost laugh. He may have worn dark clothes and carried a knife but there wasn’t much threatening about Kun at sixteen. He had fluffy hair and a bright smile. One of the first thoughts you had when you were saw him was that he was kinda cute.

So you became friends from that day onwards. He walked on you home and you thought you would never see him again.

Yet two days later he turned up at your door with a phone with his number in. You didn’t want to take it at first. You knew it probably wasn’t obtained legally. However you couldn’t afford a phone of your own so you took it from him.

You blamed it on the smile, you couldn’t say no.

To some he may have just been a local teenage criminal, but to you he was like a personal hero.

He was always there for you even when he didn’t support your choices.

Like when you started to date Minjun at seventeen. Kun hated Minjun and he hated that you liked him even more. You could tell just from the glare he emitted any time your boyfriend was near. He also told you he thought Minjun was a bad guy. You brushed him off, didn’t listen.

Four months later you wished you had listened when you walked across the room at a party only too see Minjun kissing another girl. He wasn’t even trying to hide it which you were not sure if it made it worse or better.

Either way you turned up at Kun’s apartment crying your eyes. Kun never asked any questions, he didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ he just hugged you and let you cry until you felt better.

His apartment at the time was small and he shared it with like four of his friends but none of them ever seemed to bother you. Not even as you loudly wept in their kitchen.

“You were right, he’s an asshole,” you said as Kun handed you some water and a jumper of his to wear, it was a cold night.

“I’m sad I was right… for your sake,” he said frowning as he looked at your tear stained cheeks, “I swear I will fucking beat that guy senseless, he deserves it.” Kun’s knuckles were white against his own glass of water, you were scared it would smash.

Because Kun did have a scarier side by eighteen. You never really asked him what he was involved him, but you knew it had become much more serious. Whenever you had met up with him he always had cuts and bruises.

He would get phone calls at random times of day and just leave apologetically. There was always the faintest smell of disinfectant in his car. And it scared you so you never asked.

“He’s not worth it,” you said, really hoping Kun wouldn’t get himself into trouble by beating up someone like Minjun who had a rich dad who could afford rich lawyers.

He didn’t listen though, the next time you had seen Minjun he had two black eyes, something you had no idea how Kun had achieved without lawsuits.

You had tried to have a go at Kun for beating him up, tried to express how that wasn’t the answer.

Kun just shrugged,

“Some people just need a good punch in the face, I’ve always wanted to hit him, him not deserving you was just the tip of the iceberg.”

You had to admit Kun just got more intimidating over the years. Three years later you were sitting with him in a restaurant eating dinner. He had offered to buy you dinner to celebrate your end of year results for university.

He had taken you to a fancy restaurant that you would never have chosen. He talked and laughed with you as you ate, the same way he would have when you were sixteen, but he didn’t seem to fully be there. You could tell his mind was focused on other things, no matter how well he hid it.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, your fingers playing with a glass holding the most expensive wine you had ever drunk, “you seem worried about something?”

Kun shook his head, obviously lying to you.

“I’m as fine as I’ve ever been. Do you like the food?” he countered. You didn’t press the matter. You still never asked questions. You liked your version of Kun and so you knew you probably wouldn’t like the answer to any questions you could ask.

“The foods great, but probably overpriced,” you said, causing Kun to smile. He pushed a small box over to you, scrunching up the tablecloth slightly as a result. That seemed to panic the waiter nearby. It was a fancy restaurant.

You took the box and opened it. Inside was a beautiful but rather ostentatious bracelet. You could only imagine what it cost.

“I told you to stop buying me things Kun,” you sighed slightly. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful, but it was hard to accept such lavish gifts, “I don’t have the money to get you nice things in return, I got you a frog alarm clock for your birthday, you can’t just buy me diamond bracelets for every time we meet.”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you are worried about?” Kun said, his eyes glancing to a recent text message.

“That is not the issue. I just don’t want you to spend so much money on me when I can’t do the same for you and probably wouldn’t anyway because it’s sort of over the top.” You explained.

Kun turned his phone over and held his hands up playfully.

“Okay this is the last one, I will stop. I just wanted to give you a present for being such an amazingly intelligent student, Lucas helped me pick it out.”

Lucas was a friend of his. You didn’t know many of his friends, in fact Lucas and Sicheng were the only ones you knew. They only really showed up when Kun asked them too, they sometimes had drinks with him at Kun’s favourite bar but you didn’t like spending time with them.

Not because you had anything against them but it was with them that Kun was different. He was much more cold and almost never smiled.

You could never understand why.

You held out your wrist as Kun fastened the bracelet, it was one of the most wonderful pieces of jewellery you had ever seen. Even if you only had your seven pound hoop earrings and your ten pound ring to compare it too.

You really wanted to ask where Kun was getting all this money all of a sudden, but at the same time you still didn’t want to know.

Kun only became colder, even towards you in the weeks that followed that dinner. He would talk less when you met up and more often than that he would blow you off before you even got to the proposed location.

You ignored his antics and went back to studying. You had a life outside of Kun, one that was very different. You had lots of friends at uni, guys you would hook up with casually, you weren’t interested in dating. You were a top student in your economics class. Not even your closest friends even knew Kun existed.

When he wasn’t there you missed him. For years he had been your closest friend, your teenage hero. So when a whole month had passed in which he had ignored your calls, you decided to give up your policy of non-interference, no questions asked.

You got the bus to his apartment and climbed up the many flights of stairs, looking for the best graffiti you could find on your walk up. The whole stairwell was covered in art of a single letter. The letter V.

When you got to Kun’s apartment and knocked on the door you didn’t get an answer even though you could tell the light inside was on.

You banged on the door again harder this time.

“Open up Kun, I know your ignoring me and I’ve had enough, if you could at least explain why, it would be appreciated!” you shouted.

You started to hear whispering and rustling from inside the house and so you decided to wait. A few minutes later a boy you had never seen before opened the door.

“Are you y/n?” he asked, his head just visible in the small gap he had opened to talk to you.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Kun, last time I checked he lived here?” you said, slightly confused as to what was going on.

“Yeah he moved out about six months ago, Xiaojun’s calling him now… I would let you in but Kun said that I was never allowed to let a girl named y/n into the apartment unless he was here so, I apologise for that. I’m Ten by the way,” He gave you an apologetic smile before closing the door in your face.

You sunk down against the wall, seriously questioning your continued choice to be friends with Kun. You didn’t understand how he could take you out to a fancy dinner one week and then ignore you for the following month.

You didn’t think sixteen year old Kun would have done the same.

It was dark before you saw a black SUV pull up by the apartment block and Kun get out. He jogged over to the building and up the stairs before stopping in front of you.

“Have you really been sitting out here all this time?” he asked, his face concerned.

“Only because you told your buddies I wasn’t allowed in,” you replied, unamused, “you didn’t want to mention it to me that you moved house?”

“I’m sorry,” was all he managed to say.

“I only came to look for you because you won’t return my calls. What’s wrong Kun, did I upset you or something because if so we can fix it, don’t just ignore me, we’ve been friends for years.”

“I’m not mad at you or upset with you, I’ve literally never been mad at you y/n,”

“Then why have you been ignoring me?”

“It’s complicated and..”

“I’m top of my class I’m sure I can follow.”

You realised that in asking him this you were finally asking something about the life you had never asked him about before. Sometimes you wished you had asked him what he was doing from the start.

Kun didn’t reply, he took your hand in his and started to lead you back down the stairs and out to his SUV.

He opened the door for you to get in. It was as nice a car inside as it was outside, soft leather seats that were heated and a touch screen dashboard.

“I’ll show you my new apartment,” was all he said before starting the ignition. The silence was pervasive so you switched on the radio, only to hear the news headlines.

“A series of murders have been linked to gang violence, possibly associated with the rise of the gang known only as V, though this is thought to be an alias. Police have launched an investigation but are no further in.”

You switched the radio straight back off. You had seen the graffiti, you knew that whatever Kun was involved in it had to do with this V.

Kun sighed slightly. He must have been able to tell you knew from the way you violently turned the radio back off, his eyes glancing at you in the mirror.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” Kun managed to whisper as he pulled up in front of a rather large, sophisticated looking apartment building. He got out, leaving the keys in the ignition for the valet. You followed, before he could go round and open the door for you. Gripping your phone in your hand tightly.

You didn’t think the elevator with two other people in was the best place to tell him that you would never hate him so you waited until he opened the door to his apartment and let you in.

The apartment was twelve times nicer than his old one. It was huge, had views of the city and expensive furniture. He had a large flat screen tv and soft cushions on his sofa.

“You’re doing well these days my friend,” you said, trying to ease the tension, “can we sit down?” you asked. Kun nodded, walking round and taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

“Before you say anything, I promise I won’t judge you. I’m not even asking you to tell me what you do or why, I have never asked you to do that. I know that what you do for a living isn’t legal and that’s up to you. I do care about you ignoring me though.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running his hands through his hair, “I’ve been busy in something I just didn’t want you to get caught up in, it has been kinda stressful. I don’t ever want to ignore you or make you feel like I don’t want to hang out with you because you have to know by now that’s not true.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug.

“You know that just because I don’t ask, doesn’t mean you can’t tell me, if you would rather get it of your chest I’m willing to listen. That’s what best friends are for.”

Kun pulled away shaking his head.

“I don’t ever want to get you involved in what I do.”

“Just remember I’m not fifteen and scared of the dark anymore,” you laughed, teasing your past self. Kun still didn’t laugh. His lips a firm set line.

“But you would be scared of me and I haven’t been trying to win you over for all these years just to lose you.”

His words were not a revelation. You had always been aware that Kun had some sort of crush on you, he never really hid it. You knew that had been his main issue with Minjun. He hadn’t mentioned it for almost two years and so you had thought he had finally gotten over it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Kun attractive, it was more that you weren’t willing to risk your friendship.

You had never been one to take risks.

“If I wanted to know would you tell me?” you asked him.

“If you wanted to know what?” he replied, playing dumb, stalling, clearly afraid you were going to ask even though you had just promised not to.

“If I wanted to know what you do, what V is, where you suddenly got all this money?”

“Probably, though it might be an abridged version of the truth,”

At least he was honest about his inability to be honest.

“Ten seemed nice,” you said, changing the subject, “he was very polite about not letting me in.”

“All my friends will be kind to you,” the way he said friends not quite sounding right. You were becoming more curious, you just wanted to know. You had been content with not knowing all these years but when he was making the news.

You suddenly were unbelievably curious. Only the pained sound of Kun’s voice when had talked about losing you prevented you from asking. You didn’t want to upset him. Preserving your friendship was still the goal.

“I think we should watch a movie,” you said grabbing the remote from the table, “unless you have work?” you paused, not thinking that Kun was probably as busy as before.

“Work is cancelled for the evening, a movie sounds great,” he said, finally managing to smile for the first time, “pick whatever one you want.”

You turned on a lighthearted animation. You weren’t really focused on the film, just happy that Kun wasn’t ignoring you because he was upset. You always felt calm when you spent time with him.

Near the end of the film it was almost midnight, you had rested your head against Kun’s shoulder, your eyelids heavy. You weren’t sure exactly when you fell asleep but woke up sometime later.

The sun was streaming through the gap in the curtains. For a moment you had no idea where you were. You realised you must have been in one of Kun’s spare rooms.

You wondered back out into the living room looking for Kun. There was a note on the kitchen counter that he had left.

Had to go to work – if im not back when you get up I left a toothbrush for you in the bathroom and there is cereal and juice in the cupboard help yourself. 

You went back into the bathroom and brushed your teeth before rifling through Kun’s cupboards in search of the cereal.

You had managed to find the milk and cereal and were only missing a spoon.

You searched through some of the smaller draws almost jumping back in fright when you saw a gun inside one of them. It was in the centre of the drawer amongst some old chopsticks and napkins.

Even for a gang member you thought it was strange he kept a gun in his drawer. You had never been scared about any of Kun’s work until that moment. The reality of him having to hide a gun for protection was one you had been hiding from.

Just the night before you had decide to ask nothing. Now you were worried about how much danger Kun was putting himself in.

You closed the drawer slowly, your heart beating fast.

When you heard a noise at the door and voices outside you panicked, the same way you had panicked at fifteen. This time you couldn’t run so you opened the drawer and pulled out the gun pointing it at the door.

Finally the door opened and Kun walked in, with Ten following behind. Both of them immediately throwing their hands in the air at the sight of you with a gun.

“Jesus Christ y/n, put the gun down what are you doing,” Kun called out.

“It’s just you,” you stuttered, your whole body shaking from adrenaline as you let the gun fall to the floor. You had no idea why you had been so afraid, why the gun had put you so on edge. “I heard voices and the door banging and…”

“So I’m gonna let you guys talk,” Ten said, backing out of the door slowly.

Once the door had closed Kun ran over and picked up the gun, placing it back inside the drawer.

“How much danger does your job put you in, is it even safe to stay here?” you asked, “because I would very much not like to be murdered in my sleep.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone kill you y/n, not in my flat, not anywhere,”

“See none of what you said there is that this is a safe place to be, fuck. I should have known that if you were involved with a gang linked to murders there was some danger but what people are out to get you, do you sleep with a gun under your pillow?”

“It’s complicated. No I don’t have a gun under my pillow that would be dangerous for all kinds of reasons. I keep one in my bedside table and one here in the kitchen drawer which I forgot you could stumble across, I’m so sorry it scared you.”

You started pacing up and down slightly.

“Can you not just quit?” you asked, ninety-eight percent sure the answer would not be the one you wanted.

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Your boss would kill you right? For being a traitor, the leader of V whoever he is.”

Kun laughed slightly but not because anything was really funny.

“I wouldn’t kill myself no, but that still doesn’t mean I can just quit, people rely on me, I have stuff I want to achieve.”

It took you a while to realise what he was admitting to you. The worry in his eyes increasing with all the seconds you remained silent.

“You are the leader? You’re a gang leader, my closest friend leads a gang that is on the news for killing people.” You began to just word vomit, speaking your thoughts allowed. You thought your dramatic nature was justified given the situation.

“A few years ago all you did was steal bikes for a guy named Doyoung and get into fights. How did you end up… I don’t want to know. I’m willing to level with you Kun, I’m panicking here.”

Kun seemed helpless to help you.

“I’m still me,” he said pulling you into a hug, “I’m not saying there isn’t a danger y/n, but I’m in charge of a pretty sizeable gang, I have the power to protect myself and those around me.”

You panicked less as he hugged you, even in this situation his touch was calming.

“Why did you tell me now that you were the leader?, you could have lied,” you asked him.

“Because not telling you hasn’t made you love me any more.”

141 notes · View notes

sedge-and-sanctuary · 3 years

Text

Sanctuary Pack Stories: The Loner

A story from year seven. After being scattered in the escape from human hunters, the pack is finally ready to go back home. Chicory is reunited with a figure from her past.

"And she still had the gun- I guess I was pretty worried about that- but Uno had the idea to--"

Chicory raises her muzzle, cutting Verand short. "You're limping again."

And Verand's head hunches into an expression so obviously and immediately guilty that Chicory has to bite back a laugh, fighting to keep her face stern. "I've been doing the stretches you told me, you can ask Kit--"

"Like he'd tell me the truth." Chicory snorts. "Slow down-- you don't need to go leaping ten strides ahead. The pack'll hardly leave without us."

"But--" Verand blows out a sigh. "They're just ahead, Chicory. And I swear it isn't sore at all!" She lifts the bad leg to demonstrate, stretching it out ahead in an exaggerated step.

"Hm," Chicory says.

This time, she has to hide a frown.

Verand's range of motion is pretty bad; no sign of stiffness or pain in her body language, but she can't get the leg very high off the ground. Probably she'll be limping on it the rest of her life.

"Fine. Go on then."

And Verand straightens at once, surprise and delight all over her face her face, open and obvious as tansy in bloom.

"It's this way!" She calls, already disappearing through the trees. Her tail wags behind her like a flag, waving them on.

She's a good kid. And she'll be struggling with that leg the rest of her life. Because Chicory hadn't kept her back when she should have. Because she hadn’t been nearly the doctor she should have been.

Probably get worse when she's older, too, she thinks, bitter, and pads on after Verand.

The Sanctuary Pack has been almost a year without a home, scattered wide across unfamiliar territory, fleeing for their lives through baking summer, muddy fall, bitter winter.

And now the spring unfurls before them, thin and cold, with snow still clinging stubborn in the shade.

So their territory is safe again. So they'll all be reunited. So she'll see Radun, again.

Chicory snorts. Looks up. The sky, a chilly dove's-wing gray, is threatening rain.

And wouldn't that be just her luck.

"Verand!"

A voice through the trees- high and clear, Chicory can't quite place it- and Verand, ahead of her, gives a joyful bark and bounds forward, oblivious to Chicory's censure.

She hurtles into a dark, slim wolf- Uno, it must be- and the two go rolling head-over-hocks through the muddy undergrowth, tails wagging fit to stir up a storm.

The wind, shifting, carries the mingled scents of many wolves towards them; the pack, at last.

Chicory lifts her nose, testing the air; no hint of sickness she can detect. No stink of infection, no rotting sweetness.

"Chicory." A low voice-- she turns, and Kit- a big, square young wolf- pads up to stand beside her.

"Yes?"

"Is everyone... alright? In your group?" Something hangs a little sad and serious hanging around his eyes, the way mist will cling to water.

"They'll take some feeding up." Chicory shrugs. "But well enough, I guess. Considering."

"That's good." His eyes keep sliding away from Chicory's, watching his friends play sidelong, so obviously hangdog it's nearly literal, his head drooping low.

Chicory softens- just a little, mind you- and gestures towards Verand and Uno. "Pull those two wolverines apart, would you? I'm sure I can find my own way."

He doesn't need much more convincing. As Chicory walks on, his voice joins theirs; a low and rumbling counterpoint, and warm as the thaw.

Chicory fluffs her fur against the wind, scowling. If the thaw ever comes.

She picks her way onwards, cold mud squelching unpleasantly between her toes.

Is thinking, they better have picked a drier spot to camp, when she comes through a break in the trees, and there is all of Sanctuary, gathered up and waiting.

Finch is fussing over the pups, Maize laid out in a sunbeam watching him, panting a little in that wheezy, painful way- can't Eight look after her patients when Chicory isn't around?- and a couple of scouts are straggling in: Dace and Rover, muddy but apparently satisfied.

Rover splits off immediately, to look for Seven, the two old wolves gray around their muzzles, speaking too low for Chicory to hear above the general babble of voices, and Chicory watches them-- watches all of them-- and feels some foolish, unwanted warmth bubbling up like water in a hot spring, something nearly scalding, too strong, too hot to hold in her, too much--

And there is Radun, too, looking up, the first wolf out of all of them to notice Chicory standing there.

And she is just-- standing there. Rooted to the spot by that wave of feeling, blindsided, just by seeing all of them, together and safe again. She’s going soft, probably. Can’t bring herself to care too much.

So she only stands and watches as Radun gets up, and walks across the clearing to greet her.

"Chicory. You look very well." Her voice musical and strangely deep, that odd formality. When she dips her head, low, in greeting, even their poor thin sun cannot help but catch the highlights of her rich, golden fur.

Chicory clears her throat, and clears it again. "You too," she says, stiff. "It's-- good to see you again. Been a while."

Radun straightens. "It has." A pause. "Is Verand--"

Of course-- that's why she'd come up to say hello. Chicory shakes herself, feeling foolish.

"Right behind me. Got caught up with Kit and Uno."

"I see." A pause. Radun shifts from paw to paw, evidently restless. "And is she--"

"She's alright. Favouring the leg a little, is all." I wish I had better news to give you.

"Good. That's good to hear." She clears her throat. Looks over Chicory's shoulder, something stiff in her face, her posture. "I-- thank you very much for indulging my worry. It means a great deal."

"Not a problem." Chicory fights back the horrible honeycomb-feeling bubbling up in her chest, airy and stinging and sweet at her words.

She's only being polite, she's always polite.

They hesitate for another moment, Radun still not quite meeting Chicory's eyes. Watching for her sister, probably, but too polite to go.

"I should go check in with Dace," Chicory should say. Give her an excuse.

Says, instead, "how've you been keeping, then?"

And Radun looks up, almost startled, right at Chicory, at last, something deep and warm in her tawny eyes, something almost…

"I've been well," she says, "very well, under the circumstances. Thank you. I--"

And Chicory looks away, unable to bear it, looks past Radun's shoulder just to-- settle her nerves, her damn idiot nerves, getting excited over nothing--

And all the heat goes out of the world, just like that. Like the sun's been swallowed up, like the seasons are turning backwards.

Eight is chatting with a patient, in the shadow of an oak; she hadn't seen them, when she'd first arrived, tucked away in the shade. And her patient-- a newcomer. Not of The Pack-- a gray wolf, huge out of all proportion, built broad and strong, and his eyes glitter with a sort of watchful, foxlike intelligence.

Chicory knows him, immediately.

Something must show on her face-- Radun ducks her head again. "My apologies. I've taken up too much of your time."

"No," Chicory starts to say, don't worry about it, no, you haven't, but she's turning already, and leaving Chicory with--

With him.

Jumps For Clouds watches Radun as she passes. Looks back along her path to spot Chicory, and the thoughts flicker, visibly, across his narrow face; surprise, at first, with understanding coming snapping at its heels.

He turns, and says something in Eight's ear. She looks up, surprised.

Together, they get up, and start towards her.

Chicory skirts the edge of the camp to meet them. Wants this conversation happening as far from the rest of the pack as possible. If her secrets must come out-- well. She supposes they'll all learn of it, eventually. Probably foolish, trying to draw it out.

She ducks her head away, as Eight and Jumper get near, some great weight pulling her down towards the earth.

"Chicory!" Eight says, "I'm glad to see you back. This is--"

"Jumps For Clouds," Jumper says, smoothly. "But you can call me Jumper. A pleasure."

Chicory looks up, slowly. "--Chicory," she says. "It's-- nice to meet you."

He nods, amiably, face open and friendly. "Now-- I understand you're this pack's other healer?"

"I am." No sense denying it. But telling him anything makes Chicory's fur itch. He remembers her-- he must remember her. He's just got some... angle, is what it is.

He'd always had some sort of angle.

"I thought so. You know, you just seem like a healer to me. Even kinda look like one I used to know."

"I guess there's sort of a-- common look," Eight offers, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Sure," Chicory says, stiff. "It's the hunchback."

Jumper laughs, over-loud. "Well, see, I knew someone in this pack had to have a sense of humour! Listen--" he turns to Eight, apologetic. "Listen, do you mind if I have her take a look? I really do feel--"

Eight stiffens, a little, but nods. "It can never hurt to get a second opinion."

"I thank you." Jumper dips his head. "Listen- Chicory, was it? Chicory, I swear I'm feeling under the weather, but the lovely miss Eight here says she can't find anything wrong. Would you mind..."

"Of course not." The words are stiff in her mouth, bitter. "Eight, I can take it from here."

Eight hesitates, frowning. "Are you sure? I have his history, I can--"

"I can ask him." Chicory looks over her shoulder-- back towards Dace, settling down to a meal. "I'm sure you've got other things to do."

Eight follows her eyes, visibly brightens. "Well," she says, with badly-feigned reluctance."If you're really sure--"

And at Chicory's nod, she sets off towards Dace at a barely-restrained trot, affection coming off her so palpable you could nearly see it.

Chicory watches her go, a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Well, who'd've thought you'd learn to manage people," Jumper says, voice light. "Wasn't the most subtle job I've ever seen, but--"

Chicory looks at him. "Jumper."

He tips his head in greeting. "Chews on Chicory," he says. "Fancy finding you here." Something thoughtful in his tone.

"What do you want?"

"Want?" He looks hurt. "Shelter, Chicory, a little help! You know, my own pack's fallen to war. Horrible tragedy."

"It has?" Chicory blinks. So the Pack At High Mountain was gone. "I had no idea--"

"Oh,” Jumper says, smooth as ice. “ I think you had some.”

Chicory looks at him. Feels a sort of frost creeping over her, inexorable, cold vertebrae-by-vertebrae along her spine.

"Of course," he goes on, "I might be mistaken. A common look, right? I might never have met you at all, before today."

Chicory doesn't respond. Doesn't know how to.

The pack had fallen-- how many wolves lost to the fighting, then? How many that she might have saved, if she were there?

"Listen, all I'm asking is a little-- a little healing. Your hunter, Rime, she wants me out with her team, but I'm sure I'm feeling under the weather. I should be getting my beauty rest, not getting myself all-- worn out and cut up hunting. Wouldn't you agree?"

Chicory meets his eyes, for a long moment. A more evidently strong, healthy young wolf she's never seen.

As if from an enormous distance, the warm, familiar sounds of the pack filter towards them-- the excited chatter of the puppies, the easy ribbing of a group of hunters setting out. How long has she been with this pack-- two years, three?

Good years-- good wolves.

"I just need the good opinion of a healer," Jumper says. "That's all."

Chicory ducks her head, guilt in her heavy as a stone.

"Of course," she says, at last. "Come with me."

#wolvden #the sanctuary pack #well. this one is a bit all over the place lmao #just kinda wanted to give an overview of what the pack was like around this point so it's a bit scattershot lol.#chicory #jumper #verand #radun #year seven #pack stories #jumper sucks so much and i love him #written for a loreclan prompt contest!

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

Text

De Profundis

Written for @violetreddie as a very late secret santa gift! I hope you like it 🥦

@tinyarmedtrex @xandertheundead @constantreaderfool @appojoos @moonlightrichie @toziesque @eds-trashmouth

Click HERE to read the whole thing on AO3

Preview:

When they were in high school, they had always been EddieAndRichie. Inseparable, Maggie Tozier had called them. She cooed when they went to prom together, “just as friends, Eds, just friends, two bros, chillin’ in tuxes, totes platonic, you know the drill,” Richie had insisted, after badgering Eddie to tell him what colour tie he planned to wear so that they’d match. It was at this prom that they’d stood on the football field in the pouring rain and sworn that they’d apply to the University of Maine for college, that they’d convince the others to come too, but, more importantly, that they’d remain EddieAndRichie, no space, no room for anything, or anyone, else.

“It’s just you an’ me, Eds, s’how it’ll always be,” Richie had shouted, voice fighting against the torrent of water falling from the sky, and Eddie had nodded fervently.

“You and me”

After senior prom, and the most bizarre moment of Eddie’s life, when Richie had lent in so close to Eddie’s face that he went cross-eyed, and Eddie was so sure that Richie was going to kiss him, before he’d pulled away and lept out of his own mothers moving car at the intersection, everything had changed.

It wasn’t a tectonic shift at first, nothing too dramatic or noticeable to the undiscerning eye. The movies that Eddie watched late at night when his mother was having her NyQuil nightmares told him, with their hazy colour palettes, that the summer between high school and college, when he was not a boy, not yet a man, was a transformative time, an eight week stretch that didn’t abide by such silly constraints as time and space, when things, and people, changed and always, these movies insisted, always, for the better.

The movies lied.

Read the whole thing under the cut

The first day of the rest of Eddie’s life fizzled like a dud firework. The University of Maine, those hallowed halls that Eddie had romantically-with-a-capital-R imagined himself walking down, books clutched in his hands, glasses that he didn’t need perched studiously on the end of his nose, had been the place that, according to the brochure, would nurture him, would propel him forward to greatness with a great shove, and Eddie had eaten up these sickly promises greedily. In actuality, Sonia had dumped Eddie at the entrance to his dorm building with a sob and a screech, and, as soon as her car turned the corner and disappeared out of sight, the bottom of Eddie’s suitcase had given up and his clothes hit the pavement with a dull thud.

If Eddie had been the kind of person who cried, he’d have cried. He’d have dropped to his knees dramatically, thrown his head back and howled his woes at the grey-blue sky with his teeth bared. But he wasn’t. Eddie Kaspbrak didn’t cry. Instead, he swept as many articles of clothing as he could into his grasp and walked purposefully towards the registration desk.

“Eddie Kaspbrak, I’d sign my own name but … y’know, clothes”

The girl sat behind the desk laughed.

“I can see that, but I really do need your signature, otherwise I can’t hand over your keys”

“Seriously?”

“As a heart-attack, I’m afraid. I could take over on don’t-let-Eddie’s-jumpers-drag-along-the-floor duty whilst you sort yourself out though?”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, already thrusting the bundle of clothing at her, “you’re a life-saver, I swear to God”

“Us members of the arrival survival team take our pledge very seriously, I’m just doing my job,” the girl said with an exaggerated shrug, sending a sleeve of one of Eddie’s shirts flying over her shoulder.

Eddie filled in the relevant paperwork, signing his name with an overemphasised flourish. The girl handed his clothing back, revealing the name tag that was pinned haphazardly to her sweater.

“Kay? You’re a peach. Thank you. Now, uh,” Eddie said, shifting his grip on the clothes so he didn’t drop his keys, “which way do I need to go? I think I’m in the Arthur Lewis building but I … have no idea where that is”

– X –

The diner smelt like three-day-old oil and loneliness, the kind that only those who sought solace under the flickering lights of a 24 hour diner will ever understand, and the bell jingled miserably when Eddie pushed the door open. He shook his head like a dog, droplets of rain water spraying the wall, much to the chagrin of the overworked and under-payed waitress.

“Eddie! Over here!”

A familiar voice cut through the clanging of pots and the low chatter of the other patrons of Bob Grey’s Diner.

Eddie picked his way through the labyrinth of tables, before slumping down onto the crackled leather seat, immediately dropping his head onto Beverly’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he muttered, eyes closed against the artificial light of the sign buzzing in the window.

BOB GR Y’S DIN R

“You’re late,” Bev said, factually, but she didn’t look at him, instead continuing to push half-eaten eggs around her plate with a fork.

“I know, I got held up at home,” Eddie replied. It was a lie, a white lie but a lie nonetheless, and a lie that he knew Beverly would see right through, but he said it anyway.

“Hiya, Eds!”

“Don’t call me Eds, Richard”

It began almost immediately. Richie would lunge forward with an aborted attempt at humour, perhaps chastise Eddie for something, “why do you order like such an old woman, Eds?” and Eddie would parry with a “shut the fuck up, trash-for-brains”, before it’d start all over again. It was exhausting, and Eddie would limp off the battlefield with new wounds that would scab over and form fresh scars, but there was something intoxicating about it. The most fucked up mating ritual in the animal kingdom.

“Can I getcha anything, sweetheart?” the waitress asked, and Eddie snapped out of his introspection with a sharp jolt.

“Uh, maybe, yeah, yeah, hang on, uh, can I get the, uh – the eggs? But can I get them on whole-wheat instead of white bread, please? And, maybe, maybe the – uh – the orange juice? But no ice, oh and could you double check the eggs don’t come with pepper, please? Thank you, thank you so much”

He handed the menu back over to the disinterested waitress with a sheepish grin, and turned his attention back to the table, only to be met with that familiar Richie smirk.

The dance continued.

“So,” Richie began, and Eddie tensed, steeling himself. “So, you’ve decided you’re allergic to pepper now, too?”

“Pardon?” Eddie replied, shooting for bored but sailing straight past and landing on uptight.

“Pepper. Could you, uh, could you maybe please maybe make sure there isn’t any of that nasty sneezy pepper on my uh, on my eggs? Thank you so much, thank you,”

“Fuck you”

“If you ask nicely, sure”

“You’re incorrigible”

“That’s a big word for such a little boy”

“I’m going to garrotte you with Stan’s dental floss, don’t think I won’t, because I will, I’ll come at you in the night”

“I’m trembling in my boots, Spaghetti, honestly”

“Jesus, will you two either go fuck in the bathroom or shut up? You’re making my ears bleed,” Bev said, shoving at Richie with a playful but still sharp elbow.

The rest of the losers ignored them and their bickering, instead busying themselves with lamenting about their huge college workloads.

“Professor Sumner has really been on my ass this semester, I handed in three problem sheets yesterday and she’s still not happy –”

“Yeah! I submitted my portfolio for the semester for grading four weeks ago and I still haven’t had it back, every time I check my grade I feel like –”

“Oh Jesus and don’t even get me started on how many exams I have when we get back after the Christmas break, just looking at my exam timetable is enough to –”

“I have INTOLERANCES, Richard! It’s not my fucking fault pepper makes me sneeze!”

“Pepper makes everyone sneeze, you moron!”

The monthly brunch was permanently etched into each of the Losers’ calendars on the last Sunday of every month. It was Mike’s idea. Initially, they’d tried to stick to a weekly schedule, dedicating each and every Sunday to each other, but the cracks had soon started to show. Stan was the first to become flaky, missing this Sunday and that, citing difficult homework or plans with new friends as the reason for not showing up. Then, Bill had stopped coming almost all-together, showing his face perhaps once a month at most, and even when he did, he’d disappear almost immediately after finishing his food. When they’d gone almost a whole month without seeing each other at all, Bev had rung Eddie with steel in her voice and demanded that he help her organise an intervention. Eddie had been reticent at first, having almost convinced himself that he was bizarrely content with letting the flame of their friendship die down, but then Richie had, without warning, turned up at his door with a blanket tucked under his arm and deep purple rings framing his eyes.

“I can’t sleep”

“Come in, Rich”

– X –

“It’s just you an’ me, Eds, s’how it’ll always be,” Richie had shouted, voice fighting against the torrent of water falling from the sky, and Eddie had nodded fervently.

“You and me”

The movies lied.

The morning after senior prom, Eddie woke before Richie. He grabbed his suit, where it lay crumpled in a sad little pile in the middle of Richie’s bombsite bedroom, and left without saying goodbye. Richie didn’t ring him. Eddie hovered around in the kitchen when he got home, but the phone didn’t ring. Around lunch time, Eddie sat at the kitchen table, pretending to be very interested indeed in the story his mother was telling him about the woman who worked at the supermarket on a Wednesday and her mother’s brother’s son’s daughter’s scandalous second marriage. Yes, mother, do please tell me more about this woman and her promiscuous affair with the postman while I sit here and wait for my best-friend-but-maybe-not-anymore to ring me to settle this tempest in my stomach. The tempest raged on well into the evening, and the bland stew that Sonia Kaspbrak proffered went uneaten on the kitchen counter.

Soon enough, and without consciously realising, Eddie stopped waiting for the phone to ring.

– X –

“I can’t sleep”

“Come in, Rich”

Clasping the blanket tightly between his hands, Richie shuffled into the room.

“This is weird”

“Is it?”

“Not really,” Richie said, flopping down onto Eddie’s bed. “That’s precisely why it’s so weird”

Not knowing how to respond, Eddie busied himself putting his study materials away into neat piles. Pencils here, anthology of renaissance poetry there, a packet of post-its balanced neatly on top.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, and Richie nodded his head in response, before pausing for a beat, and then shaking it.

“Not really, Eddie Spaghetti, not really”

“Oh.”

A pause. A pause that stretched for slightly too long, and then a great, deafening silence. Richie lay on the bed, arm thrown dramatically over his eyes, and Eddie stood awkwardly in the corner of his own room, a stranger imposing on an intimate moment, made even more painful by the fact that he didn’t know whether he was allowed to console Richie anymore, or whether Richie would shrug him off as he would a barely-there acquaintance.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked dutifully, but remained shielded by the comfort of his corner, a poignant distance maintained between them.

“Ah,” Richie said, a glint in his eye that Eddie didn’t recognise, “don’t worry about it. I’m fine, really I am. Just got a case of can’t-sleep-itis. I’ll survive, the prognosis looks pretty good”

Considering it was the first time in just under a month that they had spent more than brief moments in the hallways together, small waves and tiny smiles at each other over the raging sea of other students, before one of them got swept up in the tide and was pulled away before greetings could be exchanged.

“I’m going to take a lit elective,” Richie said, as easily as if he’d just told Eddie that it was going to snow the next day. “Oh, and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow”

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, the weather dude said we were supposed to get a few inches over-night, but I’ve got a few inches I can give him overnight if you catch my drift,” Richie said, grabbing at his crotch gratuitously.

‘What? No – gross. I’m not – No. I meant the lit elective, you’re taking a lit class?”

“Yup,” Richie said, popping the ‘p’ like it was bubblegum, “I got it all sorted a few weeks ago, actually. I’m taking the ‘poetry and experiment’ class”

“Ben’s taking that, he said he’s enjoying it so far, he said it was helping him push the boundaries of genre, and he said that –”

“Are we a prospectus now? Push the boundaries of genre?”

“That’s what Ben said!” Eddie said, defensively, and crossed his arms over his chest. Richie laughed at him, a laugh that Eddie had never heard before, that sounded more like a shaky gasp than genuine laughter.

“C’mere, you moron. Why are you stood in the corner, all blair-witchy?”

“I dunno”

“Yes, you do”

“No, I’m just – stood. There isn’t a reason for –”

“Yes, there is”

“No there isn’t!”

“Eds…”

“Richard”

“Come sit with me”

“Okay”

As he sat down next to Richie, Eddie could feel his heart thumping like a pneumatic drill, hammering against the cage of his ribs. He was sure that Richie could hear it too, but if he could, Richie didn’t mention it. All he did was swoop his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and tug him down, and Eddie squawked as he fell, but he still let Richie rearrange his limbs so they were sat close together, Richie tucked around Eddie’s side neatly.

“Have you spoken to Bev?” Eddie asked.

“Hmm,” Richie hummed, stroking a hand through Eddie’s hair thoughtfully. “She rang me yesterday, something about getting the old gang back together. What do you think?”

“I nearly said no”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I nearly said that I didn’t care if we all drifted apart, that that’s what happens to people when you go to college, everyone says so”

“Not everyone fought, and brutally murdered, a demonic clown from outer space with their friends before they’d even finished going through puberty, some of us still haven’t finished going through –”

The sentence died in Richie’s mouth as Eddie pummelled him with closed fists, shrieking as he did so.

“Fuck you, Richard!”

“Hey! Hey now, I’m – Jesus, short-stack, I was joking! Suspend the attack, call off the troops, ooof!”

After flipping Richie off, Eddie turned so he was lying on his side, so that his back was flush against Richie’s front.

“I know, I – I guess I was starting to forget”

“Forget?”

“Forget what it was like when we were all together, that – that feeling I get in my gut when I’m with you all, like – like this is where I’m supposed to be, you know? Like, these are my people”

Richie nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I get you. I said yes, but mainly because I was scared Red would come at me with those massive fabric shears if I said no”

With that, all of the tension drained out of the room, and out of Eddie’s spine. They spent the evening in Eddie’s bed, always curled around each other, always talking in hushed tones, always breathing in sync. When he was sure that Richie was in a deep sleep, Eddie, trying not to think too much about the reasons why, logged onto the college portal and swapped out ‘contemporary literary theory and its applications’ for ‘poetry and experiment’.

When Eddie woke in the morning, Richie had gone.

– X –

The next time Eddie saw Richie was just under a week later, when Richie loped into the seminar room for Poetry and Experiment. Eddie, who always sat next to a very enthusiastic Benjamin Hanscom, shrunk down in his seat, as if he could hide behind the three large textbooks on his table. No such luck.

“Well, fancy seeing you two fine feathered fellas here!”

“Hiya, Richie! Eddie told me you were going to start taking this course, it’s great to have you!” Ben said, pulling out the empty chair next to him, before gesturing for Richie to sit down.

“Ah, yes, he told me that you’d be here, handsome, but not that he took this course also! Holding out on me, Kaspbrak?”

“Well, actually, Eddie has only just transferred to this course, he dropped –”

“Hey! Ben, esslay ofyay ethay ansferredtray,” Eddie hissed at Ben, but Richie just raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“oureyay utecay enwhay oureyay anickedpay. You’re not the only one that speaks Pig Latin here, Eds”

“Shut up”

“Ever the charmer, isn’t he, Ben? Just gets my heart a’thumpin,” Richie said, before he reached down into his backpack and pulled out a notebook. “Right, I don’t know about you but I’m ready to flex my poetry muscles, you up for the challenge, Kaspbrak?”

“Bring it on, Richard”

– X –

The seminar was a disaster. Each of the students stood up at the end of the two hour session to read out what they had so far, and Eddie was the last to go. He stood up with trembling knees and read from his notebook in wavering, hushed tones.

“…That way, she’d live forever. That’s, uh, that’s all I’ve got”

Richie yawned, long, dramatic, and fake, from his corner of the room.

“Blank verse? Pretty uninspired, Eds. It’s okay, though, we can’t all be John Milton, no hard feelings”

“At least I don’t have a stupid fucking TS Eliot tattoo,” Eddie shot back lightning fast, face immediately creasing in embarrassment when the professor shot up, scolding him for his profanity.

“Now, enough! Sit down you two. Eddie, that poem was a good start indeed, but I am tempted to side with Richie on this, blank verse was certainly the easy way out. I have a few other notes …”

Immediately after the seminar had ended and the professor had dismissed them, Eddie shot out of the room as quickly as a buttered bullet.

“Eddie! Wait!”

It was Ben.

“I have a message to deliver to the whole class, could you come back a sec?”

Reluctantly, Eddie slunk back into the classroom to find Ben stood at the front of the room, several pieces of paper in his hands.

“Right, as most of you, or at least some of you, know, I’ve wanted to start an undergraduate literary journal here at U of M for some time, and I managed to convince the dean to give me the funding so … here we are! I’ve got enough writers for the criticism and stuff, but I need some essayists and poets to flesh out the fiction sections. If you want to submit work, please take a signup sheet! Thanks, guys!”

As soon as Ben had stopped talking, and a small huddle of people had gathered around him, Eddie slipped out of the room again.

“Eds! Wait!”

It was Richie

“Jesus, I didn’t know such little legs could move so fast,” he continued, jogging to catch up with Eddie who didn’t slow down.

“What do you want, Richie?”

“Not signing up for the journal? I thought you’d want to submit She Who Mocks or something”

“Naw, like the professor said, it was uninspired,” Eddie mumbled, taking a sharp left turn, almost losing Richie to the thrum of the crowds in the process.

“I don’t think the prof used that word, Eds, and I was just ribbing you when I said it, you know that”

“Drop it, Rich. I’m not signing up”

“Well, neither am I, so you’re in good company. Mike ran into me earlier and said that he and Stan were going to be at the ‘bucks, shall we?”

“Never call it ‘the ‘bucks’ again and you’ve got yourself a deal”

– X –

To: [email protected]:

So … this journal thing

From: [email protected]:

you gonna sign up? :O

To: [email protected]:

Thinking about it. What do I have to do?

From: [email protected]:

send me the poem you’d like to submit, and if it’s successful it’ll be in the Christmas vol which will be published just b4 the end of this semester!!!!!!

To: [email protected]:

If I do submit something, which I might not, you can’t tell R

From: [email protected]:

why?

To: [email protected]:

Just don’t, okay?

From: [email protected]:

he likes u, u know

To: [email protected]:

*rolling eye emoji*

From: [email protected]:

Send it to my college email when you’re done x

Eddie logged off of AOL messenger, opened a blank word document, and took a deep breath.

– X –

Eddie had almost forgotten about the literary journal when a copy of The Maine Literary Review landed in his pigeon hole one frosty December morning. He blinked stupidly at the journal for a few seconds, before he picked it up gingerly, as if it might explode in his hands. Holding his breath, and anxious for a reason he couldn’t place, he flicked to the contents page, and there it was, in size twelve Calibri font.

Birdbones by Mr Bleaney (p. 23)

“Huh,” Eddie breathed out loud to no one but himself. “Huh”

He was now, technically, a published poet. Edward F. Kaspbrak, published poet. It had a ring to it. Not that anyone would know that he, demure little Eddie, had actually written birdbones, and if anyone asked, of course he’d deny ownership. But he knew, and that was enough.

He scanned the rest of the contents page briefly, and his eye was caught by one particular name.

You by De Profundis (p. 24)

Eddie rolled his eyes. De Profundis. Almost certainly a pseudonym chosen for the writers affinity for Oscar Wilde.. He flicked to page twenty-four, and read the sonnet once, twice, three times before he shoved the journal in the front zip pocket of his backpack. Trite. That was the word that most accurately described what he had just read. Trite, with a sort of cloying optimism that turned Eddie’s stomach and made his teeth itch.

When he returned to his dorm in the brief interlude between classes, he started jotting a few lines of verse down, mind swimming with You, You, You, and then, before he’d given it much conscious thought, a new poem was staring up at him, fresh and shiny. And, within it, a small, barely-there jab at De Profundis.

… From the depths of vacuity, he sits, Promethean, ….

When he found the time, Eddie typed the poem up and sent it off to Ben without giving it a second thought.

– X –

“You’re late again”

“I know, I know”

“Richie’s late too”

“I know”

“You walked in together”

“I am aware”

“Do you have anything you’d like to –”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie said, turning his body away from Bev and her inquisition, and towards Mike and Stan who were currently debating the merits of IHOP syrup over the stuff Stan buys at Trader Joes.

Richie sat next to Eddie, elbows on the table, head cradled in the palm of his hands. He was watching Eddie. Eddie could see him, out of the corner of his eye, helped by the fact that Richie was making no attempt to hide his gaze.

“Have I got syrup on my face?” Eddie asked eventually, squirming under Richie’s gaze.

“Nope”

“A bit of pancake? A forgotten smudge of shaving foam?”

“Don’t joke, Eds, we all know you don’t need to shave yet”

“Asshole,” Eddie scolded, and he tried to shove at Richie with his hand but Richie caught it mid-air, and pulled it down towards the familiar crackled leather of the booth.

Eddie tried to pull his hand away, but Richie held tight, wrapping Eddie’s smaller hand up in his. They weren’t holding hands, not really, but Eddie’s hand was soft and pliant in Richie’s and it almost felt like something, something that just friends don’t do.

“So,” Ben started, drumming his fingers on the table in what Eddie imagined Ben hoped looked inconspicuous, “the first volume of my journal came out”

“I’m so proud of you, babe,” Bev said, running a hand through Ben’s sandy hair.

“Aw, I barely did anything. I had some really great submissions, actually. Especially from two poets in particular, really chalk and cheese, but I put them together because –”

The rest of Ben’s sentence faded to white noise as Eddie felt Richie’s hand tense around his. Eddie looked up at Richie, and was met with a soft smile and a squeeze for his efforts.

“You okay?” Richie whispered.

“I’m fine, I’m great, yeah, it’s all groovy”

“Groovy?”

“S’what I said”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous”

“Yes you are”

“M’not”

“Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“Absolutely not”

And, as if to prove it, Eddie wiggled his fingers in between Richie’s, interlocking them so that they were holding hands properly.

“Eddie, have you looked at Ben’s journal yet? Inquiring minds want to know,” Stan asked, an innocent enough question but panic shot through Eddie’s spine like adrenaline.

“Uh, sort of. I had a flick through, I wasn’t that impressed”

Richie’s thumb stilled from where it was rubbing small circles on Eddie’s skin.

“You weren’t?” Ben asked, sounding mildly hurt.

“Oh, I mean, it was put together beautifully and your editor’s note was brilliant, and some of the essays were very good, very original stuff about Frankenstein and I liked the thought piece about the influence of Icelandic ghost stories on nineteenth-century culture, but some of the poems were …"

Eddie paused, and Richie didn’t breathe.

“Some of the poems were awful”

“Awful?” Richie asked, voice quieter and more serious than Eddie had heard it in a long time.

“Well, maybe not awful but … cliché. Chocolate box poetry, a dime a dozen type stuff”

“Care to name drop any particularly awful pieces?”

“Well, that birdbones poem was pretty shite, and the pseudonym was ridiculous”

“You like that Larkin poem, though. You read it to me when we moved out of Derry, said that it made you feel old and young all at the same time,” Richie said, voice even but Eddie could sense there existed an undercurrent of annoyance.

“Well yes, but … still,” Eddie finished feebly, waving his hands around as if they could speak better than his mouth.

“Huh,” was all Richie said, before excusing himself to the bathroom, and, without providing an explanation to the rest of his friends, Eddie followed him.

Richie was standing in front of the sink when Eddie pushed his way into the men’s room, staring at himself in the grimey mirror.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked, leaning against the wall and trying not to think about the hundreds of other patrons who had also leant against that very wall, very probably without having washed their hands or their other appendages properly.

“Huh? Me? I’m fine, Eddie Spaghetti, don’t you worry about me”

“I’m not worried, I’m just … concerned”

“Eddie,” Richie laughed, turning around, “they’re synonyms. They mean the same thing”

“No they don’t!” Eddie insisted, “they mean entirely different things. Worry is more extreme, I am … diluted worry, worry with added water”

“Whatever you say, my little worrywart,” Richie said, pushing his way out of the bathroom to re-join the others at their booth. Eddie followed, unconvinced but not willing to push it further.

– X –

The next volume of The Maine Literary Review landed in Eddie’s pigeon hole three weeks after Christmas break. As he had before, Eddie flicked to the contents page with shaking fingers. And, as had been the case before, there he was, or rather, there Mr Bleaney was, right there, immortalised on the page.

From the Depths by Mr Bleaney (p. 14)

Eighteen by De Profundis (p. 15)

There they were, right next to each other, nestled on opposite pages like the best of friends. The name of Eddie’s poem would surely catch the attention of De Profundis, and if that didn’t, the reference in the poem surely would, if De Profundis would actually bother to read Eddie’s poem, of course.

– X –

Eddie would always remember the first time De Profundis name checked him in one of their poems. He’d been idly flicking through the Journal, not having been enticed by the title of his self-proclaimed rivals offering, – The Sailor Who Fell From The Stars – and he’d decided to briefly scan the poem when a particular stanza caught his eye.

From the depths of vacuity

All I see are flowered curtains, thin and frayed,

Falling to within five inches of the sill.

Do you warrant better? I don’t know ….

A fist made of stone and poetry punched Eddie in the stomach. De Profundis used his words. De Profundis used his words, spat them back in his face, and then stamped on them for good measure.

This was, as far as Eddie was concerned, a declaration of war, and Eddie wasn’t about to surrender.

– X –

Void. by Mr Bleaney (1st Feb 2003)

… the winds are cold and so are you,

baseless insults, show yourself ….

Testify by De Profundis (11th March 2003)

… the winds grow tired of your howling, the void will spit you out ….

Everything by Mr Bleaney (23rd April 2003)

one day

you will bleed the words I

breathed into your skin

and there will be no bandage

and you will rot in a pool of naïve

sincerity you never deserved

sssssstutter by De Profundis (15th May 2003)

… my fuh-fuh-friend, don’t bluh-bluh-bleed on the carpet,

Your wuh-words will stain …

I am not your friend by Mr Bleaney (4th June 2003)

See above.

“Eddie,” Ben sighed, the crackle of the phone signal obscuring his words somewhat, “That last submission wasn’t really a poem, was it”

“Who are you, Benjamin Hanscom, to tell me that that wasn’t a poem. You’re telling me that that doesn’t count as a post-structuralist, postmodernist attempt to subvert the reader’s expectations about what poetry actually is and force them to look up for answers? Up to the title, perhaps? You need to broaden your horizons, Sir”

“Eddie.”

“Yes, yes, fine. I know it was a bullshit excuse for a poem, but you didn’t have to publish it!” Eddie said, voice verging on shrill.

Ben sighed. “Yes I did. You would have accused me of ‘not appreciating your art’ if I didn’t. And, at any rate, I heard from De Profundis a few days before”

“… You did?”

“Yes. He asked if you’d sent in a response to stutter”

“Ssssstutter,” Eddie corrected, causing Ben to laugh. “Why did he want to know?”

“Ask him yourself”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but, upon realising that Ben couldn’t see him roll his eyes over the phone, Eddie just groaned.

“I’ve got to go, I’m meeting Rich at Coffee Hoppers in 10”

“Enjoy your date”

“Thanks – wait, I mean, it’s not a date! Ben! It’s not a –”

Ben had already hung up.

– X –

When Eddie arrived at the warm, hazily lit coffee shop, Richie was already there, sat on one of the plush, squishy sofas in the corner with two steaming mugs sat in front of him on the table.

“Hey, Rich. What do I owe you?” Eddie said, sitting down next to Richie.

“Naw, I got you, Eds. It’s my pleasure to keep you in your disgustingly sweet coffee-but-not-really drinks,” Richie said, batting his eyelashes at Eddie.

Although it had no reason to be, the atmosphere was charged. They were sat close together, knees knocking every time one of them shifted, but this was no unusual thing. They often sat close together, if not on top of each other, Richie’s legs sprawled across Eddie’s lap, or Eddie perched on the end of Richie’s knees when they were in Bill’s beaten up old truck. No, the unusual thing about this particular coffee date, was the fact that as soon as Eddie sat down, Richie grabbed his hand.

“So,” Richie started, “the new volume of Ben’s journal comes out tomorrow”

“Does it?”

“Yup. Have you been keeping up with it?”

“Sort of, not really, I don’t know. Have you seen the new adaptation they’re doing of that Stephen King book? It looks pretty good, Bill said’ he’d go see it with me, I know that –”

“Ah, yeah yeah, I’ve seen the advert. It looks … fine. Why’re you going with Big Bill, though?”

Eddie blinked.

“Because … he likes films like that?”

“So do I,” Richie huffed, knitting his eyebrows in a way that should look petulant but instead just looks endearing.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh”

“Do you, I mean – you don’t have to, but would you like –”

“Eddie Spaghetti, it would be an honour to escort you to the movies to get our scream on”

“Our scream on?” Eddie said faintly, and Richie laughed.

“Y’know, like, screaming at horror movies. Get your mind out of the gutter, you dirty bird”

Well before Eddie was ready to let Richie go, the clock struck four in the afternoon, and Richie had to leave to pick up his shift at the local video store.

“I’ll ring you about arranging our movie date, Eds,” Richie said, wriggling into his jacket and smoothing his hair down.

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, yeah, our date”

“Um. Yeah? Like, holding hands in the dark, I’ll buy the popcorn if you buy the tickets, type thing?”

“Oh, like, a real real date?”

“I mean – I thought that much was obvious, Eds”

“Uh – I guess it is now. I’ll ring you, or you ring me – you ring me, yeah, I’ll wait for your call, or I’ll – yeah. Date”

“You’re ridiculous, Spaghetti head”

And with that, Richie was planting a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head, before bustling out of the coffee shop and disappearing out of view.

On the table, lay a book. It was face down, and Eddie grabbed it, standing up with the intention of chasing after Richie, who had forgotten it, but he thought better of it. He’d give it back to Richie in their next Poetry and Experiment seminar, or on their … date. Whichever came first.

Eddie sat back down, and turned the book around to look at the cover.

De Profundis and Other Writings

Oscar Wilde

Penguin Classics

Huh.

There were several small pieces of paper sticking out of the book, and Eddie could see that the pieces were littered with the familiar scribbled scrawl of Richie’s writing. With curiosity getting the better of him, Eddie gently tugged a few of the pieces of paper out of the book.

The first piece had a few lines from a Keats poem scribbled on it,

Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes,

And sweet is the voice in its greeting,

When adieus have grown old and goodbyes

Fade away where old Time is retreating.

The second had a stanza of a poem Eddie didn’t recognise written on it, but the last, the last one he did recognise. It was only a line, but it was a line he’d stared at for hours, trying to come up with a response, wracking his brain, willing his fingers.

the winds grow tired of your howling, the void will spit you out

Without even thinking, Eddie could name the poem, and the author.

De Profundis.

Could it … ?

The bell above the door of the coffee shop rang out, and Eddie’s head snapped up. Richie was walking back over to him, hair and coat damp with late winter rain. Eddie shoved the pieces of paper back into the book with trembling fingers.

“Sorry, Eds, forgot my,” Richie gestured at the book sat bereft on the table, before picking it up and tucking it into his messenger bag.

Eddie nodded wordlessly.

“Okay well, I really gotta run, so I’ll see you – later?”

Eddie nodded again, face contorted into a grimace that, try as he might, wouldn’t be chased off of his face. Richie left without another word, but shot glances at Eddie over his shoulder until he disappeared from view once more.

– X –

“You’re … early,” Bev said, swirling the straw around in her Bloody Mary.

“I know”

“Is Richie not with you?”

“Nope”

“Where is he?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Eddie snapped, regretting it immediately when Bev’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, I just – stressed. I have a lot of homework due”

“Hmmm,” Bev hummed, unconvinced, but her train of thought was interrupted by Richie’s arrival.

“Good afternoon, fellow human people!” He said, slotting into the booth next to Eddie.

“Hullo, Rich” Mike said, ignoring Richie’s request for a fist bump in favour of continuing to absently scritch a hand through Stan’s hair.

“Lame,” Richie shot back, before turning to Eddie. “I’ve looked at the showing times for the movie, can you do Friday?”

“Uh, no. I’ve got – homework”

“Sunday?”

“Homework”

“Next Tuesday?”

“Uh, homework,” Eddie supplied feebly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, uh – okay. Maybe you could pick the date then? Let me know when you’re free?” Richie said, the timidity of his voice tugging at Eddie’s heart.

“Yeah, yeah – I’ll ring you”

The conversation ebbed and flowed for several hours, before Richie, drunk as a skunk, began to tap on his glass with a spoon covered in whipped cream.

“Attention! Ladies and germs, can I have your attention”

“Jesus Christ,” Stan said, rolling his eyes. “About to announce that you’re pregnant with Eddie’s child, finally?”

“What? Ew, gross. Not everyone shares your fondness for MPREG fanfiction, Stanley,” Richie said, earning a fork to the head for his trouble. “No, I have another announcement to make. I, Richard “Big Dick” Tozier, am a published poet”

Eddie’s stomach dropped to the floor.

“Yes, it’s true,” Richie continued, “I have been sending in work to Benny-boy’s little journal and he’s been publishing it! Fancy that, you all being in the presence of a celebrity”

“Hey, Rich! That’s pretty cool!” Mike said, reaching over the table to shake Richie’s hand.

“I thought you told me not to tell anyone?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t want you telling anyone, but this is me telling everyone, so that’s different,” Richie said, sitting back down and he leant his head against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Are you proud of me, Eds?”

“Yes, very proud,” Eddie deadpanned, wringing his hands in his lap.

“I have a rival, you know. I’m Byron, and ‘Mr Bleaney,” Richie mocked, “‘Mr Bleaney’ is Polidori”

“Oh really?” Eddie said, trying to keep his voice as calm and even.

“Yup! He started it, taking the piss out of my pseudonym, when his is just as stupid. You said so yourself! That stupid Larkin poem. I know you like it, Eds, but I don’t. Too bleak. And his poetry,” Richie mock-retched, “God is it depressing. Not a single hopeful theme, would it kill the guy to use a happy metaphor for once? Even your poetry is less dull”

“My poetry?”

“Yup! You’re a much better writer than Mr Bleaney”

“Good to know,” Eddie replied sharply, but Richie was already distracted, talking to Ben about his latest submission.

After brunch, Eddie disappeared before Richie could stop him.

– X –

The first time Eddie realised he liked Richie in a more-than-friends sort of way, they’d been sitting in the back of Bill’s rusty old truck, on their way to the drive-in. It was the night before Halloween, and their local drive-in was showing back to back classic Zombie films into the early hours of the morning. Bill had bribed all of the Loser’s to go with him, with the promise of all-they-could eat popcorn, a promise Richie took as a challenge. They had been sat together in the truck bed, three blankets wrapped around their shoulders, huddled together for warmth. Richie had hooked an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him in, so that Eddie’s head was nestled neatly in the crook of Richie’s neck.

“I’ll keep you warm, Eds, don’t you worry. I won’t let you turn into an eds-icle”

“You’re jokes are so fuckin’ lame, Rich”

“You love them,” Richie had said confidently, eyes sparkling in the late October moonlight, and Eddie was sucker punched by the realisation that it wasn’t just Richie’s jokes that he loved.

– X –

Nearly a month later, someone knocked at Eddie’s door, a knock that was shortly followed by a muffled voice.

“Eddie?”

A pause.

“Eddie? I know you’re in there”

Another pause. Eddie held his breath.

“Eds, please”

Breath escaped Eddie’s lips without permission.

“Rich?” he called out from the safety of his blanket nest, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Eddie”

Another pause.

Richie sighed audibly from behind the door. “Eddie, I can’t sleep.”

“Have you tried counting sheep?” Eddie said, and he shifted from the confines of his bed, padded across the room with silent steps, and stood with his arm extended, palm flat against the wood of the door.

“I’m sorry,” Richie said, and Eddie pulled his hand back from the door, as if he’d been burnt.

“What?”

“I said I’m – I’m sorry”

“What for?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m sure I did something that made you pull away from me like this, and whatever it was, I’m sorry”

The large, angry lump in Eddie’s throat refused to be swallowed.

“Richie, Rich, you haven’t – you haven’t done anything”

“Then why won’t you let me in?” Richie pleaded, voice cracking, and that was enough, enough of a catalyst to tug on Eddie’s poor, weary heart.

Eddie wrenched the door open, and Richie all but fell onto his chest.

“Rich, I’m the one who should be saying sorry, I’ve been an asshole”

“No you haven’t”

“Yes I have!”

“Well … maybe a tiny bit of an asshole. I just – I don’t get it”

Eddie shrugged, arms still wrapped loosely around Richie’s shoulders. “There isn’t really much to get, I’m just an asshole who doesn’t deserve friends like you, I guess”

Richie looked up, eyes shiny. “Friends?”

“Uh –” Eddie stammered, “I don’t know, Rich. You mess with my head, you know”

“You mess with mine too,” Richie said, and then they said nothing more, just stood in the middle of Eddie’s shitty little dorm room, and embraced.

When Eddie woke in the morning, Richie was gone. What lay in his place, next to Eddie’s head on the pillow, was a note.

I’ll wait for you at Coffee Hoppers after class

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The move I have, for both are infinite.

R x

As the piece of paper fluttered to the floor, Eddie knew what it was that he must do.

– X –

I Loved You First by Mr Bleaney (21st August 2003)

I loved you first: but afterwards your love

Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

Which owes the other most? My love was long,

And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

And loved me for what might or might not be –

Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine’;

With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,

For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’

Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

By Mr Bleaney / Eds.

– X –

Hammering on the door.

“EDDIE!”

Silence.

“EDDIE! Seriously, open the fucking door!”

More hammering.

“Eddie! –”

The door opened and two bodies collide.

“How long have you –”

“I didn’t know how to tell you –”

“You write so beautifully –”

“I love you –”

“Rich?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up”

With a renewed boldness, Eddie leant in and pressed his lips to Richie’s, and, for the first time, they wrote poetry together.

#reddie #it fanfiction #it fandom #IT 2017 #IT 2019 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #college au #poetry au #fanfic #richie #eddie #it novel #stephen king #reddie fan fiction

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XI

Chapter: 11/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The next few days were an absolute drag, Ringo even called up work and asked if anybody needed their shift covered cause he just wanted time to speed up. He hadn't seen George since they went out to get his suit fitted, at least that was the last time he'd seen him in person; he'd seen George a lot in his mind. Ringo started to really miss him, and the flowers beginning to wilt in his kitchen only made his sadness all the more intense. It was still two days until the wedding, but Ringo felt like he really couldn't wait any longer. He kept hoping that George would visit him at work but he never did, and Ringo wondered if he ever would again. Eventually he caved in and decided to give George a call. He finished work at 3 and plucked up the courage to call George after only 20 minutes of pacing and debating. The sound of the phone ringing made him nervous, and once again he considered hanging up, he had no idea what George's schedule was and he could be busy, he might not even be home. After a few moments of Ringo pacing as much as he could without pulling the phone out of the wall, a voice answered but it wasn't George's.

"Hello?" It was Paul, and Ringo instantly felt nervous.

"Oh- Hi, Paul. It's Ringo. Is George there?" Ringo fiddled with a loose strand of hair.

"Oh, hi Ringo. Yeah, he's just in the loo, don't expect he'll be too long. How are you, anyway?" Paul had such a soothing voice, and Ringo easily calmed himself listening to it.

"Yeah, yeah, not too bad. And yourself?" Ringo tried to sound casual.

"Yeah, alright... Did you need George for something?"

"Not particularly. Just haven't seem him in a few days, wanted to check up on him." The nerves were coming back now.

"Aw, that's well sweet of you." He paused "He won't want me telling you this but he's been going on about you non-stop. He's been so excited about this wedding, keeps gushing about you in a suit." Paul chuckled lightly and it made Ringo blush.

"Oh really? I hope I'm worth the wait then." Ringo smiled "Will you and John be there?"

"We sure will be. You practically get disowned if you miss events like these. They're alright, John has a tendency to get a bit drunk and start a row. But- Oh, here's George now I'll pass you on." Paul didn't have a chance to say goodbye because George rather quickly snatched the phone, Ringo could hear Paul and John laughing in the background.

"Hey Ringo, they weren't chatting any shite were they?" George sounded a little flustered, it was a side to him Ringo hadn't really seen.

"No, not at all. I just wanted to see how you were, but if you're busy that's fine I can call back la-" Ringo began.

"No, I'm not busy!" George said hastily, then paused and Ringo imagined he was cursing himself "Are you alright?"

"Good, yeah. Just, er- Haven't heard from you in a few days, you know?" Ringo chuckled nervously.

"Missing me already, are you?" George lowered his voice.

"Suppose I might be... What have you been up to?" Ringo wished he'd thought of something to say before he rang.

"Not much, just business stuff really. That same family's been kicking up some trouble again, but we seem to have it under control." George explained, he'd returned to his normal self now.

"Oh dear, you haven't been hurt or anything have you?" Ringo winced when he thought about the state George had gotten into last time.

"No, no. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." George chuckled.

"Pretty?" Ringo scoffed.

"Well, I'd like to call you something else but I've got company you see." George's voice grew huskier.

"You're not half a bleeding flirt, George." Ringo tried to sound like he didn't like it, but that wasn't the case.

"Oh right, and what's the other half?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Do tell."

"You'll have to wait to hear that one."

"Aren't you a little tease?"

"I'm not a little anything."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Ringo let out a spluttered laugh at the comment, as much as he'd love to talk dirty to George over the phone right now he couldn't contain his laughter "Look, I shouldn't keep you from your mates."

"Who says they're my mates?"

"You do, you pillock. I should get going, I'm pretty knackered from work. What time are you gonna pick me up Thursday?" Ringo really wanted to stay, but he didn't really want to let anything on to Paul and John - even if George hadn't been too good at hiding it.

"Probably around 9, I'll bring the suit and all that and we can get to the wedding about 10?" George had a twinge of hopefulness in his voice, and it made Ringo smile.

"Now when you say 9, do you mean 9? Or do you mean showing up an hour earlier so you can catch me being a sweaty mess?" Ringo chuckled.

"Well, I do mean 9, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to see you a sweaty mess again." Ringo could hear the grin on his face.

"I'm sure that be arranged." He didn't give George a time to respond, as much as Ringo knew he wanted to "I'll see you Thursday, then. Bye, George."

"Goodbye Ringo. Don't forget to wear those rings." George joked, but there was a darkness behind his words.

Ringo just smiled, said his goodbyes again and hung up the phone. His mood was immediately lifted after speaking to George, it was like it transported him to a whole other world. As much as he'd rather see him, he didn't dare bother him again, especially if he had important stuff to deal with.

Paul's words kept echoing in his mind the next couple of days, and every time he thought about George talking about him it made him smile. Ringo wondered why he didn't tell these things explicitly to him, like the things he'd heard when he was outside his front door, and he expected it was the same reason Ringo hadn't been completely honest either - they just liked each other so much they were scared of ruining it. It was stupid really, but a strange sort of tradition when getting to know someone.

Ringo debated in his mind whether he should tell George how he really felt, he had no fear of rejection since he knew George's true feelings, but still something told him to take things slow. Ringo was fairly happy with the stage they were at now, it was comfortable, and if feelings became explicitly involved it might take it to somewhere a bit stranger. He hadn't thought about anything that serious with George, but maybe now it was time to start; he was going to be his date after all. George was going to show him off to the rest of his 'family' without any shame, it seemed like a pretty big step for Ringo but he wondered whether George just did this all the time, like it wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't a pleasant thought, so Ringo tried to avoid it. For now he was just going to see how things went, there was no use planning for a future that might not happen after all.

All Ringo was sure of was that this whole wedding ordeal was going to be a large step for him, especially for his relationship with George, and he just had to go with the flow and see where it took him. In all honesty he knew where it was taking him: straight into George's bed, and Ringo had no issue with that at all.

Thursday finally came around, and Ringo had luckily remembered to book the time off work. He made sure to wake up nice and early, which was a struggle, so that he could hop in the shower and freshen up before George showed up. This time, he arrived on time, and Ringo couldn't help the excitement bubbling in his stomach when he heard him knocking on the door. He'd gotten dressed even though he knew it was pointless, a part of him just wanted to look presentable. He swung the door open probably a little too excitedly, and George was standing there with his arms full.

"I believe you ordered a suit, sir?" George chuckled, plonking a shoe box into Ringo's hands as smoothly as he could.

"I believe I did." Ringo smiled as he led George into the living room once more.

"In the end I decided to just get you the one, so if you can try to tone down your handsomeness I'd much appreciate it." George lay the suit on the back of one of the chairs.

"I suppose I'll have to try." Ringo joked, standing in the doorway when George gave him a funny look.

"Well go on then, what are you waiting for? Try it on!" George scoffed as he unzipped the suit cover.

Ringo shifted his weight "Oh... Right now?"

"If you wanna make it to this wedding then yes, right now." George tutted sarcastically "If you want to close my eyes or something I will, but I was kinda looking forward to this bit."

Ringo blushed, then sheepishly walked further into the room and put the shoebox down on the floor. He walked over to the suit and took it out of its cover, holding it up in the hanger so that he could see it in the mirror. It was a very nice suit, nicer than anything Ringo ever thought he'd ever own. There was a tie and a handkerchief too, but they were of clashing patterns, not that Ringo was a fashion expert of any kind but it did seem an odd choice. He looked up at George and... Oh. He realised that the handkerchief of his suit was identical to the pattern of George's tie, with his tie matching George's handkerchief. Ringo blushed.

"Sorry if its a bit cheesy, I thought it'd be nice... Funny y'know." George turned away to look in the mirror, Ringo could've sworn he saw hints of red on his cheeks.

"No its nice, was just a bit confused at first." Ringo smiled reassuringly then began to undress.

He felt George's eyes on him as he lifted his jumper above his head, he felt the sudden urge to cover himself up or to ask George to leave the room, but he powered through the embarrassment and continued to take off his clothes. Standing in his boxers and his socks, he took the suit off the hanger piece by piece and worked his way into it. Even the shirt was nice, Ringo guessed it probably cost more than his entire wardrobe put together. He lay the tie undone across his neck, he was a little embarrassed that he wouldn't be able to make it look presentable enough, so decided to leave it until last. The whole time he felt George watching him, and while his gaze was somewhat predatory it didn't make him feel uncomfortable, at least not in the negative sense, and whenever he looked up at George he would give him a small smile. He squeezed into the shoes, the first real leather shoes he'd owned, and wiggled his toes in them as he walked around the room to break them in somewhat.

"Does everything fit?" George cleared his throat before speaking.

"Feels like it. I hardly recognise myself." Ringo chuckled as he stepped up to the mirror.

"You look good." George breathed, taking a step closer to him "Who knew I had such good taste?"

"In suits or in men?" Ringo winked, fiddling with his tie hesitantly.

"Looks like both." George smiled darkly "You need help with that tie?"

"Uh... Yeah, I do. Bit embarrassing but even in school I could never do it properly, was always getting yelled at for it." Ringo continued fiddling with the fabric awkwardly.

"Come 'ere." George laughed, his quick fingers getting to work as he tied Ringo's tie for him.

Ringo gulped rather obviously as he looked down at George's hands, he couldn't help remembering how he had been thinking about them last. George pulled his focused gaze away for a second to glance at Ringo, and Ringo suspected that George knew exactly what he was thinking. George just chuckled, then turned Ringo to face the mirror with him.

"There, we make quite the pair. Don't you think?" George grinned widely, his arm across Ringo's shoulder.

"Huh, we sure do. Could give Paul and John a run for their money." Ringo chuckled but then panicked when he thought he might be insinuating something.

"Urgh, don't mention them. You know how hard it is to find a fella when you've got those two as the shining example? You shouldn't even worry about meeting my parents, them two are the real test." George let go of Ringo then, who only blushed at the thought of meeting George's parents.

"How long have they been together?" Ringo started fixing his hair that had been ruffled out of place.

"It's hard to say. As long as I've known them they've practically been inseparable. Technically I think it's 3 years this year, but I could be wrong." George stood behind Ringo then, and ran his hand quickly through his hair to mess it up.

"Funny." Ringo rolled his eyes "Was it easier around them, then? I mean, being... You know."

"Being a flaming queer?" George laughed "Yeah, I suppose it was. I mean we all messed around quite a bit when we were younger and it just stuck."

"Messed around like, with each other?" Ringo was almost looking presentable.

"Scandalous, I know. It was just boys being silly, or at least that's what we pretended it was. Then suddenly it stopped, and Paul and John were dating so I had to find my fun elsewhere."

"Have you been with a lot of guys then? If you don't mind me asking." Ringo tried to not sound as curious as he felt.

"Depends what you mean by 'been with'. I've been around the block a few times, but never anything serious. Never taken one to a wedding, let's just put it that way." George smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"Well aren't I lucky?" Ringo felt comforted by George's answer, even though he knew he shouldn't care about his past.

"With a face like that, I'd say so." George stepped closer to him again and lifted up Ringo's chin gently to stare into his eyes.

"You're one to talk." Ringo whispered.

"You better shut me up, then." George rubbed the stubble on Ringo's chin gently.

Ringo smirked and leaned in to the other man, one hand going for his hip under his jacket and the other caressing his neck. George hummed happily against his lips, Ringo smiling into the kiss. He wondered if he'd ever get tired of kissing George, or if it would ever stop lighting a fire in his stomach, because it certainly didn't seem to be happening any time soon. George put his hand on the small of Ringo's back and dipped him backwards slightly, pushing his chest up against him. Ringo moved his hand to George's face and he felt him jerk slightly at the feeling of the cold metal of Ringo's rings on his skin which made Ringo chuckle. He had gotten used to that reaction, but seeing George respond like that instantly made him smile. George deepened the kiss, grabbing the fabric of Ringo's jacket and taking a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. Ringo moaned lowly as George pushed his tongue into his mouth, feeling his sharp teeth teasingly nibble at his lip.

Ringo was the one to break the kiss when he felt himself getting a little flustered, he didn't want to end up being late because they had pushed the late night entertainment forward, that certainly wasn't a good way to make a first impression.

"Shouldn't we be heading off?" Ringo panted, his face still only inches away from George's.

"I suppose we have to." George smirked "But I expect to pick up where we left off once we get back to mine."

"If you insist." Ringo smiled awkwardly, and it made George smile too.

George stepped back then, adjusting himself for a final time in the mirror before heading out of the room. Ringo remained in front of the mirror, the nervousness of this important social event was beginning to sink in, and he worried that he wasn't going to fit in there. He remembered how the tailor had regarded him, how he could sense that Ringo wasn't one of them, and then imagined it on a larger scale with every one of George's friends turning their noses up at him. He had been so concerned with handling George that he hadn't even considered the magnitude of the situation. He looked pretty sharp, or so he thought, but was it good enough? He let out a sigh and saw George waiting for him in the doorway.

"Ringo, stop being ridiculous. You look gorgeous, now let's get driving or I'll get a belting from Paul for being late." George's words were serious but his smile was warm and it helped Ringo relax.

As Ringo walked past George into the hallway, George seized his hand swiftly and raised it up to lips, pressing a soft but long kiss on the back of palm, his gaze unbreakable from Ringo's before heading to the front door. Ringo blushed and followed behind the other man quickly, once again having the door opened for him and stepping out into the cold morning. George's car was waiting across the street, and the two of them walked towards it briskly. Before Ringo opened the car door, George tapped on the roof of the vehicle to grab his attention.

"You've got no need to be nervous. I won't know half the people there, and the other half I don't like." George chuckled "Just see it as an opportunity for free food and a lot of free drinks."

"How much is a lot?" Ringo forced a smile, but he couldn't fully hide his nerves.

"Well last time I went to one of these things, I woke up in the next town over with all my money gone and a headache that lasted a week." George smiled a toothy grin.

"Sorry I thought you were supposed to be convincing me to go?" Ringo raised his eyebrow.

"Ha ha." George said sarcastically "Look, we only really have to show our faces for a little bit. We can leave as soon as you've had enough of it all. But I don't think you're gonna wanna miss seeing John picking another fight with a lamppost."

Ringo sniggered "Well, I can't miss that now can I?"

George just smiled then climbed into the car, Ringo following suit. Before they set off, George placed his hand on top of Ringo's and squeezed it tightly. Ringo let out a breath he wasn't even realising he was holding, then turned his hand around so that he could interlock his fingers with George's. It only made his heart race faster as he felt George's skin against his own in such an innocent and affectionate way. It was reassuring to know that he didn't have to hide this, at least not right now, or for the rest of the day. Even if it was living in a fantasy world somewhat, he would enjoy it for now at least. George squeezed his hand once more, running his thumb slowly across the back of Ringo's hand before pulling his hand away and starting the car.

Ringo had a feeling that this was going to be one of the best day's of his life, and it was only the beginning of a whole series of things. The beginning of his life with George. He could get used to saying that.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

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aratilightwood · 6 years

Text

If Kit lived the extravagant lifestyle

Tagging @kit-herondale-blackthorn for the ‘Cirenworth hall’ craze fest.

...

(1) *Kit and Ty prepare for patrolling near a restaurant.*

“Are you ready to leave?” Ty asked as he walked into Kit’s bedroom.

“Yeah, give me a minute, I just have to lace up my red bottoms,” Kit replied.

“Red bottoms? What kind of demons have red bottoms?” Ty said.

“No they’re -“ Kit began. “Nevermind.”

(2) *Kit and Tessa wash dishes in the kitchen.*

“Do I really have to clear away the dishes?” Kit questioned miserably.

“Well, I cooked, so it only seems fair that you clean,” Tessa replied.

“But I don’t want to scratch my Rolex watch, please help me take it off,” Kit said.

“Fine,” Tessa sighed.

(3) *Kit and Emma prepare for patrolling at a bar*

“Have you got all the weapons you need?” Emma asked as she walked into the weapon’s room.

“Erm, yeah,” Kit replied.

She eyed the golden chain around his neck, “why are you still wearing that?”

“It might work like an electrum whip,” Kit said.

“I doubt that,” Emma replied.

(4) *Kit is feeding baby Cordelia.*

“Have you finished feeding Cordelia?” Jem asked as he peered in the living room doorway.

“Almost done,” Kit said happily.

“It’s good you’re getting practice,” Jem said.

Before Kit could reply, Cordelia picked up the plate that was filled with mushy bananas and flung it in his direction.

“Oh God, not my tie. It’s from Prada!” He exclaimed as he ducked to avoid the hit.

(5) *Kit and Ty are reading after hours in the library.*

“It says here, that a Raum demon’s venom doesn’t work immediately, but kills you slowly,” Ty said while he read a passage from the book.

“How long does it take for the victim to die than?” Kit asked.

“Hold on, this is a very old book. The writing has faded over the years. Could you please bring out your witchlight?” Ty said.

Kit reached into his pocket and took something out, “would this help?”

Ty eyed the shining object in Kit’s hands, “what’s that?”

“A Swarovski crystal,” Kit replied.

(6) *Residents of the institute plan to go to the ‘Midnight theatre’.*

“We’re going to be late, if we don’t leave now,” Ty said while he sat at the edge of Kit’s bed.

“I can’t find my silver cuff links,” Kit replied as he rummaged through his drawers.

“Pick another one, you have loads to choose from,” Ty said.

“But the silver ones have your initials, please help me find them,” Kit pleaded.

Ty smiled slightly, got up from the bed and walked towards Kit.

(7) *Kit and Dru plan to visit the shadow market.*

“Have you found a way to disguise yourself while we’re there?” Drusilla asked as she approached Kit near the institute’s entrance.

“Yeah, Givenchy sunglasses,” Kit said while he put them one.

“That’s not going to help,” Drusilla said. “It’s not even sunny outside.”

“It’s more of a fashion accessory than a convenient hindrance against sunlight,” Kit said.

Drusilla rolled her eyes, but followed him out of the institute anyway.

(8) *Kit is giving baby Cordelia a bath.*

“God, your hair grows a lot quicker than mine,” Kit said as he washed off the shampoo.

The baby giggled at the statement and splashed around the small bath tub.

“Bath time is your favourite time of the day, isn’t it?” Kit asked.

Cordelia’s smile grew wider as she noticed a ring glittering on Kit’s finger. She reached out and tried to grab it.

“Uh uh, no way,” Kit began as he moved his hand away. “You’re not having anymore of my rings, especially after the last one fell down the drain.”

(9) *Kit and Ty prepare to go patrolling on Santa Monica pier.*

“Kit, I can’t find my ge-“ Ty began as he walked into the training room. “What are you wearing?”

Kit was standing beside a target board in a casual jumper and jeans.

“It’s quite cold outside. I thought my Burberry, wool jumper would keep me warm,” Kit said.

“We’re going on patrol, not a moonlight walk. It’s best you wear your gear instead,” Ty replied.

“Nope, I should be fine like this,” Kit said.

(10) *Kit and Helen argue over washing clothes.*

“Kit, do you have any clothes that need cleaning?” Helen asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kit said after some thought.

“What about your leather jacket?” Helen said.

“Nope, I’m not putting that in the washing machine with the rest of the clothes after what happened to my other jacket. Oh the horror!” Kit said dramatically.

(11) *Kit and Ty walk around the shopping centre and do window shopping.*

“I don’t know why you wanted to go shopping,” Ty said. “You seem to have a lot of things already.”

“Even I can’t resist sales,” Kit replied.

A few moments passed when Ty felt a tug on his arm. He looked down and noticed that his shirt had caught on Kit’s bracelet.

“Kit!” Ty exclaimed. “This is the third time today your Armani bracelet has done this.”

Kit looked down at both of their arms and attempted to unlink them, “sorry.”

“Maybe its best you take it off,” Ty suggested.

“Erm, absolutely not,” Kit said.

(12) *Kit finds Julian in the art studio on Friday morning.*

“Julian, are you in here? Everyone’s been looking for you,” Kit said as he opened the door to the studio slightly.

“Yeah, I’m just finishing an art work. Is everything ok?” Julian replied.

Julian was standing in front of a canvass. The small paint brush in his hand had a rich, golden colour.

“The children are getting restless because it’s Friday, and you haven’t cooked any pancakes yet,” Kit said.

“Damn,” Julian said as he walked towards Kit. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Suddenly some paint from the brush fell to the floor, only two inches away from Kit’s Jimmy Choo shoes.

Kit flinched back.

“Oops, sorry,” Julian said.

(13) *Dru and Kit decide to investigate the convergence site.*

“Have you got anything to place your weapons in?” Drusilla asked as they made their way down the staircase.

“Yeah, my Ralph Lauren bag,” Kit replied.

Drusilla gave the bag a long look and than gave Kit a disapproving one, “a weapon’s belt would be best.”

“It’s fine,” Kit said.

“You can’t put knives in there, the bag will get ruined,” Drusilla said.

“Not if they’re sheathed,” Kit replied.

(14) *The New York institute is hosting a Christmas ball, and everyone’s invited.*

“The portal to New York is opened. It’s time to lea-“ Ty began as he approached Kit.

“What?” Kit questioned when he saw Ty’s surprised face.

“You’re not seriously wearing that, are you?” Ty asked.

Kit was dressed formally in a waistcoat, shirt, trousers and bow tie, but he had an Icon cap on his head.

“What’s wrong with it?” Kit said.

“You look like you should be going to a baseball game, not party,” Ty laughed.

“I do not!” Kit protested.

(15) *Kit and Ty are changing into gear.*

“Ty, doesn’t this look great?” Kit asked as he adjusted the cashmere scarf around his neck.

“I’m sure gear isn’t supposed to accommodate any fashionable accessories,” Ty replied.

“I think it’s about time things change than,” Kit said.

“I don’t think so,” Ty said.

“Please, just try the red one,” Kit said while he held out another scarf.

(16) *Dru and Kit are spending time together in her room.*

“What kind of perfumes do you wear?” Kit asked as he examined Drusilla’s dressing table.

“I just borrow Emma’s, and I don’t know their names half of the time,” Drusilla said.

“You should try ‘Daisy’ by Marc Jacobs, it’s supposed to be great,” Kit said.

“Who’s Marc Jacobs, some kind of warlock?” Drusilla asked.

“Yeah,” Kit said with amusement.

(17) *Kit and Mark argue before he goes on patrol.*

“Give it back to me!” Kit cried as he tugged at his Gucci trousers.

“No, you’re not wearing this, it’s too nice. You’ll ruin it,” Mark replied while he pulled gently in retaliation.

“I’ll be extra cautious! Nothing’s going to happen to the trousers,” Kit said.

“I don’t believe that,” Mark said.

(18) *Kit and Ty take a walk on the beach.*

“I thought you always preferred wearing shoes whenever we walked on sand,” Ty said while he examined Kit’s feet.

“I am prepared to make any sacrifice for my Versace trainers,” Kit replied as he held onto his shoes.

“Well at least now you understand how great sand feels under foot,” Ty said.

“It’s like a warm blanket,” Kit sighed.

(19) *Kit and Aline talk before he goes on patrol.*

“What’s that smell?” Aline asked as she approached Kit.

Kit held out a bottle of perfume, “Dolce and Gabbana, do you like it?”

“Are you mad? You’re going demon hunting, not to a fashion show,” Aline exclaimed.

“What’s your point?” Kit said.

“Demons are attracted to nice scents,” Aline said. “You’re a dead man.”

“Not before I kill them first,” Kit said with a grin.

(20) *Kit is attending a Clave meeting.*

“Now, does anyone have suggestions for changes that need to be made to the new government?” Consul Alec asked.

Kit pulled out a Swarovski pen from his pocket, “I think we need to change the way steles are made.”

Alec gave Kit a questioning look, “steles cannot be made without adamas.”

“I know,” Kit said. “Keep the adamas, but I think we should decorate them with valuable gems, like this pen.”

“Kit I don’t think-“ Alec began.

“Please, it will look good,” Kit said.

...

@tdanetwork mission 1: favourite character

An AU of Kit living a completely different lifestyle to the one he’s known.

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theempressar · 6 years

Text

Valentine’s Day - A Danielle Mini-fic

Valentine's Day Some boys kiss me Some boys hug me I think they're ok If they don't give me proper credit I just walk away

Dani woke up with a slow stretch and tapped her foot to the beat. One of her favorite songs was waking her up today on her retro clock radio with the phone attached. She felt great in her own skin.

She remembered what day it was. The week before was a week of excitement leading up to this most important day in a young girl's life. She smiled as she kicked her feet over the side of the bed and got up doing the twist in her over-sized football jersey.

They can beg and they can plead But they can't see the light (that's right) 'Cause the boy with the cold hard cash Is always Mister Right

She thought about her 'Mr. Right.' Every day had been a special day...just getting to know the boy she once despised when she was a boy herself. She thought back to those days like a distant memory and shook her head. He had proven to her that he was kind and caring and had a huge heart. She thought of his smile. She smiled and her dimple pressed deep into her cheek.

She went to her dresser and pulled open the drawer, immediately tossing clothes to the floor and behind her head.

"Nope...no...not this one....really?" She said looking for something red. Anything red. She knew she should have chosen her outfit the night before but she was too busy daydreaming and trying to get her homework done.

She danced over to her vanity mirror and admired her body for the umpteenth time. She just loved the way she looked now...even if her hair was long and messy and definitely "slept on". She ran her tapered slender fingers through it, combing out some tangles and returned to her task. It was easy to get distracted.

Her phone rang.

"ARRGGHH...not now!!" She picked up the phone, knowing it would be Ali and sure enough, she heard the laughter on the other end of the phone.

"Dani...I know you're heading out the door right now!"

"Uh yeah...give me a minute!"

"Dani we're going to be late and we don't want to be late today!"

"I know, Ali...I know!! I can't wait to see how many carnations and candygrams I get."

There was a groan on the other end of the line.

"Keep rubbing it in. Just 'cause you're the popular girl in school now."

"Oh knock it off. You know I'm only teasing. I bet I don't even get one!" Dani said hopping around the room with the phone in the crook of her neck, pulling up her pink heart, white tights around her waist. She bent over her bed to pull up the slack and smooth them over her legs.

"I bet you get at least one..." Ali said with an unmasked twinge of jealousy in her voice. Dani heard it in her voice and couldn't help but guiltily try and put her at ease. "You know...you're gonna get a bunch too. I'm going to be the first person to buy you a dozen."

"Right...Tiger...you just worry about keeping all those suitors at bay...including the ones with floppy blonde hair and deceiving, dazzling smiles. I'll see you at school. Don't be late!" She hung up the phone.

Danielle settled on a red-hearted turtle neck, long-sleeved shirt and a red jumper coveralls and pink jelly shoes. She didn't care if she looked twelve she was going to be extra cute today. She put on pink lipstick, having perfected the art of applying it and gloss without making too much of a mess. She put on her trademark black fedora and silver bangles. She nodded to herself in the mirror and headed out the door. She grabbed her toast and air-kissed her mom, who was reading the paper and briefly looked up at her daughter, remarking how beautiful she was and for her to be careful.

"I will Ma...love you!"

'Cause we are living in a material world And I am a material girl You know that we are living in a material world And I am a material girl

Dani walked down the hall to her class. Several eyes turned to follow her. It seemed to be the usual. Dani was used to it by now. She smiled and went to her locker and got her books and pocketed the few notes that were stuck in the metal slats. She was sure they were notes from Johnny and she couldn't wait to go some place quiet to read them. They were folded like those triangle football things they all played with during class. A couple had hearts on them. She closed her locker and jumped back, startled.

Johnny was leaning against the lockers with his arms folded looking back at her with a big silly grin on his face. His boyishly handsome good looks always gave Dani's heart a little jolt these days when she saw him. She smiled but then played it cool, and walked past him waiting for him to catch up.

"So...that's it?" He said following after her, brushing past a few people in the hallway.

"So what's it?" Dani said without turning to look at him.

"No...Good Morning, Handsome? How did you sleep?" Johnny said trying to snake his arm around Dani's waist possessively to get her to walk close to him down the hallway to class.

She stayed just out of his reach. "Good morning, Handsome...how did you sleep?" She said quickly and bent to get a drink of water at the fountain. She was trying to hide her laugh.

Johnny leaned against the wall, frustrated. He ran a hand through his blonde bangs and willed her to look at him. "You haven't even seen what I'm wearing!" Danielle looked up from the fountain and gave him a 'once-over'. "You look...nice." She said and walked away. He stood there until she turned around, hand on her hip and a sweet smile on her face. She nodded her head toward the classroom. "C'mon Blondie...we're gonna be late."

Johnny caught up and grabbed Dani's books and kissed the top of her forehead. He ushered her into the classroom, holding the door for her and she went to her desk. Johnny stopped and his face fell. Dani turned to see what he was looking at.

Some boys romance Some boys slow dance That's all right with me If they can't raise my interest then I Have to let them be

On her desk was a literal pile of carnations, candygrams, valentine cards, red suckers with the white icing sayings and hearts on them. Boxes of candy hearts were falling off of the desk onto the floor beside it. There were even a couple of balloons tied to her chair. She looked at her desk in awe. She blushed, the pink tinging her brown skin as she went to take her seat at the front of the classroom.

Johnny frowned and looked at her desk again at all of the red and pink and white carnations that everyone had to spend a dollar on to buy their 'special sweetheart' and Danielle could have opened a flower shop with the amount she received...not to mention make a dentist rich for the amount of candygrams with words of "love" and goofy sayings attached...wishing...hoping....for a date with her.

He went to sit in the back with the other Cobras. They all had their fair share of candygrams on their desks. All of the girls wanted make sure that their favorite Karate Boy knew how much they thought of them. Surprisingly, Dutch had almost as much flowers and candy as Danielle did. He was grinning from ear to ear...supremely smug about his animal magnetism.

"Yeah...look at this Lawrence...I cleaned up this year! I got at least ten numbers here!"

Bobby rolled his eyes at Dutch and looked at his small pile. He didn't do so bad. He had enough...all the notes said something about his eyes and his wispy hair and how sweet he was. He kept his thoughts to himself, looking over at Tommy and Jimmy who had a couple of small piles but were not discouraged because it was only the first class and they had all day to get more candygrams and girls' numbers.

Bobby glanced over to where Ali was sitting at her desk a couple of rows ahead of him. Her head was down and she was looking at some of her notes she received. There wasn't nearly as many showerings of goodies on her desk as there was on Danielle's and she was trying so very hard to keep the smile plastered on her face in good support of her friend. It was hard and she felt the burning sting of a tear at the corner of her eye and she hurriedly brushed it away.

Bobby had hoped she at least saw that she had a flower of every color from him and at least three candygrams telling her what a good friend she was to him. He hoped that she found the note asking her on a date for Saturday night. He had been waiting all month to ask her out and thought this was the good time to do that. A lot had happened between the two of them. He didn't like seeing her upset.

Johnny's desk was covered with an equal amount of flowers and candygrams and candy hearts and balloons and crap as Dutch's was...but he didn't care. He didn't want any of it. He kept staring at Dani as she politely sifted through all of her cards and smiled up at the boys who were eagerly staring back at her wanting her acknowledgement. Johnny almost broke his pencil in two when he saw her return smiles and shyly smell all the flowers on her desk. It was going to be a very long morning.

Boys may come and boys may go And that's all right you see Experience has made me rich And now they're after me

Dani walked through her day in a daze. She felt so spoiled by everyone at the school and didn't understand why she was getting all of this constant attention. She hardly could keep a thought in the back of her mind where her friends were. She hadn't spoken much to Ali as she moved to each class. She seemed to have disappeared on her...only catching her in the bathroom where it seemed like she couldn't get away fast enough. Dani wanted to grab her and give her a big hug. But she was gone. She'd make it up to her later.

And then there was Johnny. She wanted to play and flirt and give him a hard time, but he was just as gone as Ali was. He blew out of his first period class like he was on fire. Dani cocked her head and watched him leave. It was the first time her heart felt afraid that he might not like her anymore. That all of his attention to her was vanished into air. It hurt. It hurt worse than any punch or kick she had received in the past. She was going to give him a piece of her mind when she saw him again. How could he leave her like this and not at least give her one flower or card. What was the matter with him?

She found him sitting on a bench in the middle of the courtyard at lunchtime. None of the other cobra boys was around him. He was by himself, sitting on top of the table fiddling with something in his hands. Danielle couldn't see what it was from where she was at but she was grateful that he was alone. Now was her chance to go over and talk to him. She was intending to punch him in the arm and refuse to go on another date with him...especially tonight. This was not how to treat his girl.

"Excuse me." She said stopping in front of him and put her hands on her hips. He looked up at her, blue eyes sparkling...the sun glinting off of his bangs and eyes and giving him that angelic appearance again, the one that had her insides turning to mush.

"Oh...do I know you?"

"Har Har...very funny! What happened to you?? Where have you been?!" She barely took a breath as she scolded Johnny for leaving her alone for most of the day.

"Did you get enough Valentines? " He said ignoring her rapid fire questions. She stopped abruptly and looked at him with her mouth open, disbelieving what she heard.

"So...that's it..." She said with a smirk.

"I don't even know why you want to hang out with a jerk like me...when you clearly have so many other boys to choose from." Johnny said hanging his head, looking at her through his bangs. He wasn't really upset, more teasingly making Dani feel bad...but he wasn't about to tell her that.

She moved in closer to him. "Yeah...well maybe I don't wanna choose another boy....you thought about that?" She nudged him in the shoulder.

He looked up and smiled, his bright white teeth dazzling her as Ali had promised. "Well that's good for me then...because I wouldn't know who else to give this to." He said holding up a small black box.

Danielle smiled, her whole face lighting up and her dimples in both cheeks made Johnny want to spend the rest of the day kissing them. Just as quickly she acted aloof again...like she didn't care what he had. "Oh...you have something for me then?" She studied her nails, pretending to be disinterested.

"Maybe..."

"May I see it?"

"Are you going out with me tonight?"

"That depends."

"Oh really..."

"Yes...oh really..." Dani said giving him a sassy toss of her hair and holding out her hand.

Johnny put the box behind his back away from her and she pouted and stomped her jellied shoe. She had really learned the art of flirting as her few months as a girl made her almost a natural.

When Johnny brought his hands back around he held a delicate, silvery necklace with a heart shaped pendant. It sparkled and twinkled in the sunlight and Danielle looked at Johnny in shock. It was beautiful. Johnny motioned her to come forward and she did, standing in between his legs as he expertly fastened the necklace around her slender brown neck and he lightly trailed his hands from around her and slowly adjusted her pendant against her red jumper. He never took his eyes from her face.

Dani swallowed hard. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Johnny now. She was overcome with emotion. This was the nicest gift anyone had ever given her and it meant so very much to her that it came from Johnny.

Without thinking....Dani threw her arms around Johnny's neck...surprising him and she held on tight to him, burying her face in his shoulder. Johnny was shocked but quickly recovered, putting a hesitant arm around her waist, gingerly pulling her closer to him.

"Thank you, Johnny...it's...it's perfect." Dani whispered through the tears he felt wetting his cheek.

"So I take that as a yes?" Johnny said softly...pulling her back to look at him.

"Yes!"

'Cause everybody's living in a material world And I am a material girl You know that we are living in a material world And I am a material girl Living in a material world And I am a material girl

But it was oh so much more than that. Dani was in love.

#danielle #minific #johnny #ali #bobby #dutch #tommy #jimmy

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infinitalia · 6 years

Text

An Echo Of Eternity

Chapter Two | The Wrong World

Summary: After his brother’s death, Alfred is prepared to do anything to see him again- including defying his beliefs and hacking into a computer simulated world for the dead. His search leads him to his classmate Arthur, who has come here for unknown reasons and seems almost at home in this artificial afterlife. Reluctantly, Arthur agrees to help Alfred and try to work together. USUK.

Warnings/info: Black Mirror: San Junipero AU (you don’t need to have seen it), major character death, mental health issues.

(Previous chapter preview can be found on my blog under #an echo of eternity.)

Light vibrations and a faint hum drill softly through his dreams, snapping him awake far less gently than they should. He groans and rolls over under his covers, before panic sets in and he stomach does a somersault. Where is it? Is this its first round?

'Shit,' Arthur mutters ignoring the wave of dizziness from a head rush as he sits up and begins ruffling through the sheets, trying to find his phone. The damn alarm is only on vibrate- his idea, but certainly not by choice- which means he sleeps through it far more than he was planning to when he came up with the stupid plan. He has even taken to holding his phone at night, so it would buzz right up against his skin in the morning, but somehow the damn thing always manages to end up on the floor or at the bottom of his bed. Or even under the pillow that one time. He grits his teeth as his fingers brush against the phone, and he is mortified to find that this is in fact its third round.

God fucking dammit-

A few feet away, a handle bends downwards and the door creaks open quietly. Arthur squints into the dim and glares when he spots Peter's face through the crack.

Why didn't you wake me? he signs angrily.

Peter sticks his tongue out, smirking. 'I'm doing it now,' he whispers.

Arthur shakes his head with a derisive snort, making a big show of pretending to zip his lips. His brother rolls his eyes and disappears from the gap, and Arthur can faintly hear him skipping off down the hallway.

He can barely remember being as hyperactive in the morning as Peter is- after all, failing the alarm clock, he always has his little brother to rely on to wake him up.

He just wishes Peter would be quieter.

He only has about ten minutes to get ready before he and Peter must leave, and he spends at least half that time ensuring that he did successfully hide the PATCO equipment last night once he had finished using it. The likelihood of anyone, even Peter, going through his bedroom is slim- God, he really could keep absolutely anything in here and probably get away with it- but he has to make certain. His paranoia may not be as great as it was when he first started visiting San Junipero, but he is still keenly aware of the risks.

And the stakes are certainly higher now, he remembers with another groan. Fuck. Fuck it all.

He could have just said no. He liked Matthew, certainly, but… he really could have said no. Taken a step back, not have gotten involved. Hell, hadn't he almost managed to walk away? At least until Alfred Williams-Jones had gone and started crying. Then he'd essentially been doomed. God. He curses again. What the hell has he gotten himself into?

Arthur barely has enough time to wash his face, pull on a jumper, a pair of jeans and a jacket and then snatch some money off his desk before he is ushering Peter out of the house. Once on the path, his brother mockingly unzips his lips and smirks at Arthur.

'I win,' he says.

'The hell you do,' Arthur retorts. 'You spoke.'

'So did you. I heard you swearing afterwards. And before. That's twice, so I win.'

Damn this kid's hearing. Arthur sighs and digs into his pocket for some spare change. If Peter is the quieter of the two in the morning, he gets extra money for the corner store where they collect their breakfast. Arthur isn't a huge fan of wasting his savings every day, but the alternative is getting up even earlier to make breakfast for the two of them. Not to mention the fact that that the toaster is broken beyond repair and the milk is almost always out of date.

'Maybe Dad should play as well,' Peter muses, grinning as he snatches the money out of Arthur's hand. 'He makes way more noise than us. We'd be rich.'

Arthur offers a weak smile and doesn't reply. He's certain Peter knows why they have to be silent in the morning, but as long as he keeps presenting it as a game for his little brother, Peter will probably continue treating it as such.

'Don't get sweets,' Arthur tells him as they're embraced by a warm gush of air from opening the shop door.

'My money, my pick,' Peter says cheekily. He races off down the snacks aisle and leaves Arthur standing in the doorway. The elder brother heads over to the cold drinks, knowing full well that he won't have enough energy to make it through the morning, let alone the whole day. He's noticed with his Variant Chip that it really can take a toll on the user. Arthur is no stranger to migraines, thankfully, so the resulting minor headaches he has been experiencing aren't too hard to deal with. Still, it would be nice if he could get his hands on that anaesthetic cream they give to the elderly when they visit San Junipero…

His thoughts are interrupted by his phone buzzing once again, this time from a text. He pulls it out and stares at the message on the screen in confusion for a few moments.

You sure? I can pick you and Pete up from school if you like.

Oh, shit. That's right. Arthur must have sent a text last night, once he'd gotten back from San Junipero and before he passed out. Reaching into the refrigerated shelf for an energy drink with one hand absentmindedly, Arthur thinks through his response carefully before beginning to type.

We'll walk.

The air outside feels more freezing than it did when they first left the house, although Arthur doesn't find that surprising in the slightest. The corner shop always has the heating on this time of year, while his home… generally isn't much better than the outside temperature. Peter moans about the chill the second they step back out again, tugging at the ends of his scarf fiercely until Arthur tells him he'll only strangle himself doing that.

'It's too cold,' Peter complains, shaking his arms about in an effort to warm them. Arthur scoffs lightly. His brother is too much of a summer child- in every sense of the term, he adds privately, smiling. Peter is very much like how Arthur once was, back in Brighton during those long summers, with days that couldn't even be deterred by the usual dreary clouds. But Peter was four when they moved to London, and eight when they came to the US. He would have been too young to remember the days on the beach if they'd even still been going down to it regularly after he was born.

Nevertheless, Peter's absolutely rubbish with the cold. At the first sign of winter, he immediately dons coats, scarfs and gloves at every opportunity. Admittedly, Arthur does feel quite cold with only his jacket to keep him warm, but he isn't about to let anyone know that.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He won't mention giving up the offer of a lift, either. Peter will just be fed up, and this day is certainly going to be stressful enough already.

He doesn't need to look into the future to know that.

The first few periods go by in relative smoothness, by Monday morning standards. His poetry module almost proves to be an issue when he suddenly remembers about ten minutes into it that he completely forgot to read the set texts for this week, but is relieved when the teacher is too distracted with the kids who failed last week's assignment to bother to check. His phone doesn't go off once, which isn't exactly a big shocker. He doesn't have anyone he actually keeps in regular contact with, other than the contacts he keeps out of necessity. While he knows his classmates might find it sad that he has no friends to text, Arthur quite enjoys it. Dealing with most texts is quite the hassle in his experience, and he often finds he doesn't have the energy to deal with them. Not to mention, he can do without the social life. Everything's just a little too chaotic already without one of those.

It isn't until lunchtime that something out of the ordinary occurs. Arthur is adding food to his tray, ready to pretend to take it outside to eat (when in actuality he has the perfect little corner in the library attic where he can go mostly undetected- and he has gotten very good at quickly barrelling food into his bag and hiding himself if anyone does come his way) when he spots what is probably the second to last person he wants to see. Maybe third if he's being generous. He isn't.

Alfred Williams-Jones is headed straight in his direction with his own empty tray, an entirely nonchalant look on his face. He's on his own, so there's at least one small blessing, but Arthur can easily make out his friends sitting at their usual table, and any one of them could turn and wonder exactly what the hell Alfred is doing.

'Hey, Arthur,' Alfred says, smiling. He begins piling some ham sandwiches onto his tray.

'What?' Arthur says bluntly, deciding there's no point bothering with pleasantries. An uneasy tingling is spreading over his skin, and he grits his teeth in frustration, hoping it doesn't show. Judging by just how careless Alfred was in San Junipero itself, God only knows how he's going to behave in a crowded school cafeteria.

Alfred looks exasperated, although he's still smiling. He's a complete fool, Arthur decides.

'Once again, nice to see you too,' he says, and Arthur's mind immediately flashes to the night before, where those stupid, friendly words were all this numbskull could come up with.

All of this is stupid in itself, but Arthur is more than simply miffed by that. After everything he'd told his classmate last night, he had hoped at least something, maybe even his parting words (which should be the freshest thing in this guy's memory, he thinks angrily) would have sunken in.

'What part of never come to me did you not understand?' he says very lowly, under his breath.

Alfred blinks. 'What? But I- I thought you meant like… in the other place.'

'I said everywhere,' Arthur hisses, letting his eyes dart about. No one is looking at them from what he can see, but he has his back to the main bulk of the cafeteria and he's almost afraid to look.

Alfred is frowning now. 'What's the big deal? It's just school.'

Arthur takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore the churning feeling inside him. 'We don't talk normally.'

'What, and you think people will notice? No one's gonna care, Arthur.'

He's probably right, but Arthur is far from the type to take any chances. 'Call me paranoid all you like,' he hisses. 'If you want to risk getting caught, that's fine. I was under the impression you had quite a lot to lose. But hey, what do I know?'

Alfred glares at him. 'Okay, okay, fine. Jeez. Just wanted to thank you again is all. And ask when we're doing it next-'

Arthur angrily shoves a juice box onto his tray and stomps off towards the doors, praying Alfred won't follow him. All he asked- all he fucking asked- was that Alfred listened to him, and respected his conditions. Deep down, he knows he's getting far too worked up about this, but this is far from what he had in mind. All he wants is peace and quiet, and above all, safety. And Alfred could ruin all three.

His heart is pounding just a little too fast for his liking, and Arthur knows the next place he should go is the sick bay. It's not as if they'll be out of his prescription, seeing as he has only ever gone for it twice before- and on both occasions, purely to prove to them that there was even an issue. The rest of the time, he just breaks into his emergency batch of diazepam at the bottom of his pencil case. Students aren't allowed to carry any kind of drugs around school with them, medical or otherwise. Then again, students aren't supposed to sneak food into the library at lunchtimes or sneak off school grounds during gym lessons either. And students most certainly aren't supposed to be hacking into San Junipero in their spare time, but hey? No one is.

He's halfway up the steps to the staff only back entrance to the library, under the cover of the trees between the building and the playing field, when he hears someone else's footsteps ascending too.

Truthfully, it is somewhat of a relief that it is just Alfred. He'd hate for his secret lunch spot to be ruined by a teacher catching him in the act.

'Where are you even going?' Alfred asks, and even from ten or so feet away Arthur can see the skeptical raise of his classmate's eyebrow.

'Why are you still following me?' Arthur demands.

'Come on, we've got total privacy out here. Can we talk now?'

Arthur sighs. It's not as if he can go in the damn attic now anyway. If Alfred finds out that the maintenance staff leave the door open from when they start before school to around six in the evening, he'll probably come barging in whenever he likes.

Arthur instead takes a seat on the steps, and Alfred rushes up quickly to sit beside him, looking far too enthusiastic for Arthur's liking. Alfred's always got that look about him- like an overactive puppy on steroids, wanting in on everyone's business. He'd be friends with the whole damn school if he could.

Precisely why, after two weeks of that absolutely pointless mentoring when Arthur first started, he avoided Alfred and those like him like the plague.

'I take it that's a yes?' Alfred says, grinning.

'Just get on with it,' Arthur snaps. 'What do you want to talk about?'

'Wanna discuss that weird ass rule of yours, for a start. What if I need to talk, like ASAP? No offence, Arthur, but waiting for you to come find me would be like waiting for the next Game of Thrones book.'

'A Song of Ice and Fire,' Arthur says automatically, although he doesn't deny Alfred's point. It is kind of a fair assessment.

'Whatever. My point is, as you're so big on pointing it out, I'm super new to this. What if there are things I need to ask, before I go there next time? I don't have your number or anything.'

And you're not getting it, Arthur thinks moodily, but even he is too civil to actually say it. 'Well, you want to learn what not to do? Don't even think about texting about this sort of thing. If the police get wind of anything, they'll search your phone records. Just pretend it's all about drugs or something. You wouldn't just haphazardly text your dealer-'

'Loads of people do. Although, we could just get those cheap flip phones, like in the movies.' Alfred seems far too amused at the thought. 'Oh wow. I think I'd actually prefer it if people thought I was buying weed or something. My parents would probably take that better than the truth.'

Arthur has nothing to say to that. His face is heating up a little, although certainly not from embarrassment. Shame would be a better assessment. Not for the first time, he seriously reconsiders his own nature. Seriously thinks about what that councillor back home in his last school told him, about taming his hostility, his coldness towards his peers, his aggression. About it all being a problem. About it being wrong.

But it isn't wrong for him. It shouldn't have to be.

So he shuts his mouth and doesn't say anything. Better to remain silent than to be as spiteful as ever. If he could be nice last night, right in the middle of panicking greatly at having been caught in the Ghost Town, he can at least act like an actual human being while Alfred talks about his family.

The guilt lets him know he still can.

'They were at this dinner party last night. A friend from church had a get together or something,' Alfred explains. 'They go to 'em quite a lot, actually. My dad's big on being part of stuff. Community spirit and all that. Man, Mattie and I used to hate going. We'd sit at the table with all the grownups and eat with them and everything, and it sorta felt like we were all grown up too. But man were those things boring. Anyway. That's where they were last night. I stopped having to go with them like two years ago. I figured it was as good a night as any to… you know. Try you-know-where out for the first time.'

Arthur shifts restlessly. 'Fair enough. I wouldn't recommend Sunday nights though. I'm really starting to realise this myself. Nights with school the next day are a bad idea.'

'My head felt all weird this morning,' Alfred admits, touching one of his temples lightly. 'It ached a bit. Is it meant to do that?'

'Probably. I get migraines, and the Chip doesn't help. We don't exactly have the anaesthetic salve they give the old people. Even PATCO doesn't bother with that.'

Too comfy, his brain reminds him. Too familiar. Cut it out now.

'Anyway,' he says briskly, almost wincing at how obnoxious he makes the mood change sound. 'I'm sure I can handle a task a little quicker than George R R Martin, at the very least. We have lunch to eat. In our respective spots.'

'No one's gonna notice I'm gone, Arthur,' Alfred says, and he really is starting to sound annoyed now. Arthur feels strangely proud that not once, but twice has he managed to shatter Alfred's perpetual cheerful attitude. Far more ashamed about it, certainly- the guy just lost his brother, you insensitive fuck- but a little bit of pride remains.

Arthur has the ability to piss off even the most optimistic of individuals. It's like a superpower. A shit one, but it has its uses. It protects him, and that alone should be enough.

'I don't always sit with them now, anyway,' Alfred says. 'Sometimes they say stuff, and I know they're tryna be nice, but they do it all wrong. Whatever. They probably think I'm just in the bathroom crying or some shit. That's what people do.'

In crappy Hollywood high school rom coms, maybe. Arthur has had plenty of breakdowns in this shit hole of a school and not a single one has he risked having in the very public, constantly occupied bathrooms.

'I like to be alone,' he says. That's why anywhere here but the library attic will never be any good. Why his food remains untouched, just waiting on his lap. Alfred shouldn't be here. No one should be, not even him.

'Yeah. Ain't that the truth,' Alfred says, his voice peculiarly cold. He grabs his food and gets to his feet. 'I'll leave you to it then. And just wait, I guess. No problem.'

Arthur himself is feeling a little cold now. 'Right,' he says, because what the hell else is there he can say that won't just fuck up his thought pattern or this conversation anymore?

Alfred starts heading down the steps, then hesitates after a couple of seconds. 'I don't know why you're like this, you know. Can you at least cut me some slack on that front? I have no idea what I'm actually doing wrong, apart from literally being here.'

Well, there you go. There's your answer, right there. It's not exactly hiding. God, if only his head could shut the fuck up.

'I just want to be alone,' he says, practicing I'm sorry in his head. It doesn't sound right. For all his manners around adults and whatnot, it just wouldn't sound natural. And it might help mend bridges that should be left as rubble.

'Yeah. I got that,' Alfred says, and then he is gone.

Arthur waits a little while, staring at nothing in particular while ice begins to settle at the bottom of his empty stomach, before he's certain the coast is clear. He gathers up his things and pelts into the library like it's some stupid game of hide and seek- just like at the beach, before being a certified grade A arsehole was his chosen path and he didn't need to hide in all the other ways he does now. The dunes were always the best places to pick, and the massive boulders with their narrow tunnels and caves between them and their little rock pools far below. He could have hidden there forever when he was very little. It was the safest place in the world. No adult, no near adult, could ever have fit through those gaps.

But another child could.

The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction on my account (Rezeren).

#hetalia #usuk #aph america #aph england #aph usuk #ukus #america x england #libertea #aph canada #aph france #aph ireland #aph sealand #platonic fruk #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland #an echo of eternity #san junipero au #renzfics

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hovercraft79 · 6 years

Text

Winter Song

Ch 20 Drive the Cold Winter Away

Chapters: 20/31 Word Count: 1,737 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Teen Warnings: some angst and unpleasantness still lingers from the Big Freeze. Alcohol is a feature here as well. Summary: The blizzard is gone, and a new day shines cold and bright. Hecate sees the last of her charges off for the winter break. Still struggling from the aftereffects of the Big Freeze, Hecate and Ada search for new beginnings with good friends and good drinks.

Notes: This story is part of the B-Sides: Stories from the world of Hecate’s Summer Playlist series. It is a prequel to Hecate’s Summer Playlist. This whole thing is really a slow burn leading up to that.

The author of this hymn has been lost to the Mists of Time, it seems. It comes from somewhere in the 17th century, first appearing in a broadside circa 1625, apparently.

The Tom and Jerry is a delicious alternative to eggnog. It’s labor intensive but well worth it. It’s been around since the 1800’s, invented by a Brit it seems, but really taking off here in the states. My favorite recipe comes from here: http://imbibemagazine.com/classic-tom-jerry-cocktail/ It gives you the basic recipe and then links to the batter recipe below.

This fic almost escaped while Sparky was taking a nap. Luckily, she woke up just in time to save us all from my split infinitives.

Hecate stayed in the courtyard until the last student disappeared into the cold, clear sky. She shivered and strengthened her warming spell. The blizzard had broken during the night, leaving in its place a glittering white landscape, sound muffled beneath the snow. Peaceful.

She stood for a few moments enjoying the softness, watching her breath fog every time she exhaled. She felt the beginnings of a yawn as it tried to escape the confines of her lungs. She let it go - loud and lazy and relaxing in its own way. She and Pippa had stargazed from their respective roofs far longer than she’d intended, both wrapped in blankets and warming spells. Pippa had come up with the brilliant idea to transfer a floor mirror with them to the roof instead of having to hold hand mirrors. Hecate had to admit that sitting on the rooftop next to the mirror was almost – almost – as nice as having Pippa there in person. They’d spent many nights on the roof of Amulet’s as girls. It was nice to get a bit of that tradition back.

It had also been somewhat cathartic. One thing she was discovering was that Pippa Pentangle still had the power to both unnerve and steady her at the same time. She’d been so focused on the stars and Pippa’s voice and not saying or doing anything that might bring their visit to an abrupt end that she hadn’t been able to obsess about an ice-covered Cackle’s or magical black spots. She hadn’t fretted over frozen girls or a frozen Ada – or how it had been Mildred Hubble who had offered up her magic, rather than Hecate herself. And how shamefully thankful she was that Miss Mould had ultimately made the sacrifice.

A sharp crack pulled Hecate out of her memories. A thin branch of a nearby tree had finally succumbed to the weight of the snow. That could be me, she thought ruefully, a maudlin old fool who can’t step out of the shadows of dark memories, carrying it until I break. Well, no more. She’d moved on from far worse than a bit of ice.

She dropped her warming spell and allowed the cold to seep into her. She closed her eyes as she opened her cloak, mindful of the way her body reacted: the goosebumps, the shivering, the way her nose started to burn when she breathed in the frigid air. “It’s only the cold,” she said to herself. “You are not freezing. You are not without magic.” She repeated this, over and over, pushing her anxiety deeper and deeper inside. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, but the faint ripple of Ada’s magic materializing behind her told her it must have been a while.

“Hecate?” Ada’s soft voice carried over the snow. “You’ve been out here quite a while. I thought I’d see what was keeping you.” In truth, Ada and Gwen had been watching Hecate from the staff room window for quite some time. Ada had wanted to come check on her deputy’s well-being immediately, but Gwen had been quite firm. ‘Processing,’ Gwen had said. ‘Hecate is processing her feelings – and it’s well past time. Leave her be, Ada.’

So, Ada had left Hecate to herself – at least until she had seen her open her cloak and expose herself to the elements. After an agonizing wait, Gwen had finally agreed that it was time for Ada to fetch her deputy back.

Hecate managed to repress a sigh of annoyance as she pulled her cloak back on. “I gather everyone is waiting on me?”

“Not at all,” Ada reassured her. She looked around, blinking in the brightness. “It is beautiful, isn’t it? At least when I can look at it without thinking of being a great chunk of ice myself.” Ada saw Hecate stiffen. Spot on, then, she thought. “I still feel cold at odd times. Are you finding that to be true as well?” Ada waited, but Hecate didn’t speak, or even look at her. At last, though, a slight dip of the chin. “I’m sorry, though I must say I’m glad it’s not just me.” Ada stepped closer. “I have a confession. One of the reasons I was so keen on a games day yesterday is that I knew it would be too boisterous for me to think about the storm.” Ada braved slipping an arm around Hecate’s waist and giving her a squeeze. “It still bothers me too, Hecate. Perhaps over the break we might…talk about things? I’d love to know that I’m not the only one still struggling.”

Hecate felt Ada’s arm around her waist, as comforting as the warming spell she’d felt Ada slip over her as soon as she’d joined her. Her first instinct was simply to say that she was fine. She was fine. She would be fine. Instead, she squeezed the hand at her waist and said, “I think I’d like that.”

“Very good, then. I shall look forward to it.” Ada let her arm drop. “Now…I do believe we have another Cackle’s tradition to attend to. One that I know you enjoy.”

Hecate barked out a laugh. “You very well know I do NOT enjoy this particular tradition.”

“That’s why I had Miss Drill add extra rum, dear. Why I always have her add extra rum.” With a snap of her fingers Ada transferred them both to the staff room.

****

“Miss Cackle! I see you’ve found our lost Deputy!” Dimity ladled a serving of their traditional Tom and Jerry punch and handed it to Hecate. “You first, HB, you look like the frosty bits of an old ready meal.”

“Delightful.” Hecate drawled, but took the drink anyway, cradling the warm mug in her hands and breathing in the scent of the cinnamon and nutmeg. Not that she’d ever mention it, but Dimity’s Tom and Jerry punch had become one of her favorite parts of the holiday season. Rich and frothy from the egg whites, sweet and spicy from the sugar and cloves and warm, warm, warm from the hot milk and the rum. “Thank you, Dimity.”

“Anything for you, HB,” Dimity gave Hecate a knowing look, before winking at her and filling Ada’s mug.

Hecate took in the circle of chairs in front of the fireplace. Ah, yes… the rest of Ada’s end-of-the-winter-term tradition. Sharing their feelings about the term. She took her place in one of the chairs by the fire, letting its heat and the warmth of her drink drive the last of the chill from her bones. Soon Ada took her place in the seat next to her, and it was time to begin.

“Good afternoon, dear, dear, friends.” Ada lifted her mug. “To surviving, if not thriving, this past term. May the next term be as glorious as this one…” Ada’s voice cracked, and tears sprang to her eyes. Hecate placed a steadying hand on Ada’s shoulder. “May it be as glorious as this one was awful.” Ada held her mug up a moment longer before slumping back in her chair and taking a drink.

Hecate looked at the faces surrounding her. Her friends. The closest thing she had to a family. The people she would have lost if… she raised her glass. “To a better spring term. And… to Julie Hubble, a most extraordinary Ordinary woman, without whom I daresay we wouldn’t be here.”

“To Julie,” they said, each sipping their drink.

“And to that determined little tadpole of hers, Mildred Hubble,” Algernon added. “The girl who never gives up.”

“To Mildred Hubble, the Girl Who Won’t Give Up,” Ada repeated, raising her mug again. “And quite the impressionist, wouldn’t you agree, Hecate?”

With that, conversation lightened considerably. Soon the melancholia had lifted, replaced by laughter and ribald jokes from Dimity and Algernon, with a healthy dose of Dimity poking at Hecate whenever she could until Hecate resorted to using a cooling spell on Dimity’s drink every time she was about to take a sip.

One by one, the teachers took their leave, everyone eager to begin their holiday. Gwen and Algie, who had rented a seaside cabin for the break, were the first to depart, followed by Miss Tapioca and the rest of the kitchen witches.

Finally, only Hecate and Ada remained, neither of them leaving the castle anyway. “Would you care for a refill, Hecate?” Hecate nodded and handed Ada her mug. “I must say, I had my doubts when Dimity first offered to make this instead of our traditional eggnog, but…”

“Agreed. These are much better,” Hecate arched an eyebrow Ada’s direction. “But if you ever tell Dimity how much I adore these, I’ll swear this conversation never took place and you will wonder why every jumper you own is suddenly a muddy brown color.”

Ada burst out laughing… and laughing… until tears streamed from her eyes. “Thank you, Hecate,” she wheezed, “I needed that.”

Hecate leaned back in her chair and sipped a bit more of her drink. She loved the times when she was able to make Ada laugh.

“Are you and Miss Pentangle doing anything for Solstice?” Ada asked, as soon as she could speak again. “That’s tomorrow, you know.”

Hecate blinked rapidly at the unexpected change of subject. “I… uh… Yes. Pippa is coming here. If that’s all right?” she added quickly. “I should have asked first.”

“Nonsense! You don’t need to ask if you can have a guest. You’ve never needed to ask.” Ada leaned forward and placed one hand on Hecate’s knee. “I want you to know, Hecate, that I am absolutely delighted that you and Miss Pentangle have decided to rekindle your friendship. I know how important she was to you. It’s wonderful to get this second chance.”

Hecate smiled, a rare, full smile that few people ever got to see. “It is… wonderful. And terrifying.” Her smile faltered. “I’ve never told you this, but… our estrangement was my fault. A mistake that seemed the proper thing to do at the time and… well… I never thought I’d get the chance to make amends for that.” She shrugged, hoping Ada would understand.

“And now you have the chance to get that friendship back, not just make amends. You are very fortunate, Hecate, very fortunate indeed.” She clinked her mug against Hecate’s. “To new beginnings of all sorts.”

“To new beginnings,” Hecate said, smiling again.

#ww2018winterfluffevent #hecate hardbroom #ada cackle #dimity drill

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cottonwren · 6 years

Text

Oxford - Finn Shelby

// A/N: Thank you to @blinder-secrets for the original concept of Finn going to university! So excited for people to read this, please give me feedback //

The overly priced record player continued to play as you continued to dance, slippered feet gracefully winding and sailing through the marble floor. Arms outstretched, extension in your limbs as you had always been taught, your image graceful and carefree but only because you were so strict on yourself and how you danced. Though your strictness upon yourself was nothing considering your mother and father’s view on things. You were only allowed to take the vital qualifications for a doctor thanks to your agreement with them. As long as you continued ballet, you could study to your own interests.

Letting out a high screech, you heard the door edge open. You had rented out the room for a Friday afternoon, from two o'clock to five o'clock, as always, so which fellow rich ballerina had chosen to try and override you? Who had dared? If it was Priscilla Bonpraque again, you were ready to fight her. You turned, stopping the opera music and looking over your shoulder to see the bewildered boy in the doorway. Freckles decorated his face, curls resting atop his head. He looked a little rougher than the boys you were used to, granted, but that was not a negative at all. You’d got tired of the ridiculous amounts of hair gel by the tender age of fifteen. “Hello, are you lost? I’ve seen you in my biology lectures, you do ballet here too?” Your voice was steady, soft with a London accent that was definitely what people considered ‘highly educated’

He nodded, then shook his head, taking in a breath as you walked over, on your blocks still as you did, making you as tall as him. “I’m Finn. I was looking for the library, but somehow I managed to find the most graceful ballerina in the whole of Europe” He ran a hand through his hair and smirked at you. Nothing about his body language said that he was about to leave, and his cap reminded you exactly of who you had been told to stay away from. He was at Oxford, so how dangerous could he be?

“Thank you, Finn. I’m Dorothy Lillian Goodheart, do you want me to show you around? The library’s massive, I’m surprised you missed it” You laugh softly, sitting down on a bench and untying your ballet slippers. “I’ll get changed first, but then we could go on a tour?” Not many boys refused this kind of offer from a rich, young Ballerina. Then again, not many boys got this offer. Finn looked excited, though kept his cool and nodded. For some reason, you were excited too. Maybe it was the rebellious act of walking with an off-limits boy. It was definitely the rebellious act of being with an off-limits boy.

“Dorothy” He mused, tasting the sound of your name off his lips to test. “I’ll see you outside, yeah? Twenty minutes” It was more of a smooth order, leaving you stunned slightly at the quick step-change between a boy who needed to run to a boy who’d done this all before. He consumed your mind as you changed into your clothes, making you wonder so much.

Dressed in a pleated navy skirt and a beige jumper, your black angel boots coming just above your ankle as you walked out of the building. You immediately spotted the brummie boy, a smile flashing across his face as he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, making you grimace slightly. The smell of smoke made you want to vomit, nevermind the fact that long-term cigarette use ages anyone. Genetics couldn’t help you there, no matter how good yours were. Looking across at you, he offered his arm “You don’t smoke, I imagine? What with the whole dancing thing” He shrugged, wondering aloud. Obviously, he had no idea of the lives Royal Ballerinas lived. Then again, why would he?

“No, no smoke. I hate the stench, and I need to stay as nice looking and as fit as possible if I’m ever going to be a half decent ballerina as a backup plan.” You let out a long sigh, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear “My first plan is to become a doctor, though if my parents were to find out that that was my idea, I’d be taken off of the course within a snap of their fingers” Your arm linked with his, a soft smile on your face as you bared your soul to someone you had never met before. What was worse was that you knew it was bound to crash and burn on you. The worst thing was that that made you even more excited.

“That strict, hm? Then why are you trusting me with this information, Dorothy?” Finn asked, walking with you around campus, his breath like expensive cinnamon liquor - warm, sweet, slightly husky. “Anyone can wear a flat cap, you know” He smirked, and you didn’t need to look to know it.

“Because, Finn, When you lock girls away and force them into institutions and ballet slippers, you create a danger-excited, thrill-seeking daughter with a lot of money. And from what I’ve seen so far, you’re as danger-excited as me. You know why? If you are a blinder, your hometown is Birmingham and you see more illegal action in a weekend than the local nunnery does in a week. If you aren’t a blinder, you’d be eyeless for wearing that cap” You smirked, having been well informed on his brothers since the other ballerinas had gone to Birmingham frequently just to fuck whatever blinder they could.

“Fuck, you ballerinas are insane” He smirked, chuckling, “I think we’ll get along, though” Finn was very sure that he was feeling homesick because her talk about Birmingham had made him feel warm and happy “How’d you know so much, hm? Ballerina princess Dorothy Lillian Goodheart, a secret spy?” He teased, now laughing at your expression.

You let out a laugh, nudging him with your elbow, feeling as if you had known him forever as you started jovially teasing him. Finn suddenly missed home a little less, as the girl showed her around the university campus. You knew that many of the toffs that had tried to court your peers were watching you laugh with the brummie lad, and that made you happier.

Once you had finished the tour, you stopped outside his flat. He smirked “Well, princess, wanna come in? I make the best fucking tea in the whole of Oxford” His face, though smirking, was quite soft. His freckles peppered his pale skin, his eyes radiated a soft youth that you no longer had, and you were slightly envious of this factor of your new friend.

It was your turn to smirk “The whole of Oxford? Well now I just have to come in, don’t I?” He let out a small chuckle and undid the lock on the door with a pretty brass key, letting you walk in before he did himself. You took off your coat, hanging it on the peg and following him through. As you walked through the hall, you saw the pictures of his family, making you smile. The biggest one was a wedding one, obviously Tommy Shelby because everyone knew who he was. Everyone knew, definitely.

Finn walked next to you, handing you a cup of tea “That’s my family. Tommy, who helped me get here. He supports my studies. He’s great. That’s Arthur, who bought me a nurse outfit. He’s just glad I’m not dead” He finished there, not wanting to talk about the third brother. You sensed a change in him and decided to change the mood. After sipping the tea, you gave him a teasing smirk “This really is good tea. He bought you a nurse outfit? Does it fit?” You asked, sitting down next to the wall with him.

“Not as I’m aware, Princess” Finn smirked “When your eldest brother gives you the equivalent of an apron and nothing else as one outfit, whilst in his bar, you most often decide not to wear it”

“You should try it on, might look good” You grinned, laughing “Nurse Shelby, no? Gonna patch me up after a bad rehearsal?”

“Only if you let me watch your performances” Finn grinned back as if you wouldn’t actually invite him to your ballet performances. Oh, yeah. Maybe you couldn’t, seeing as your parents came to every performance. Oh, fuck it. Finn wore a suit and could say a sentence without swearing, it’ll be fine.

“Why not? That’s if girls in tight leotards won’t bore you….” You pouted “I know that at the age of being in your twenties makes girls in tight clothing incredibly boring, but hey, at least you get to see my livelihood in practice?” You offered, laughing softly.

“I’ll come, I’ll come, ah, what are you making me go through, eh princess?” He chuckled, setting a soft cheery mood for the afternoon.

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby oneshot #old writing

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kay-emm-gee · 7 years

Text

so we put it in a song

Pairing: Henry / Lizzie (The White Princess) Summary: In which Henry discovers how much Lizzie loves Christmas and somehow acquires a little enthusiasm for the holiday himself. { bandmates!AU | ~2.8k | teen+ } a/n: Inspired by Becky G & Lindsey Stirling’s Christmas C’mon (highly recommend listening, for the fic and for fun!). The minute I heard the violin notes, I knew I had to continue my band AU for these two. Also, because Henry would totally be a grumpy cat about the holidays until Lizzie showed him the true meaning of Christmas :)

Henry never really watched breakfast shows, but he always had them on while drinking his morning tea. It was a habit he had picked up from living with Jasper in his younger--and poorer--years. The man was surprisingly attached to the puff pieces that dominated such shows, but Henry was not. He preferred to get real news from papers, and later in the day, when he could actually remember what he was reading. Whatever he put on the telly in the morning was just for background noise. He rarely paid attention to this politician or that celebrity who was advertising a new charity or cooking a cutesy recipe with a show host simply for a bit of good press.

When he turned it on one morning three weeks before Christmas, however, Lizzie appeared on his screen and he couldn’t help but stare in shock. She was standing atop a small stage in the middle of the studio, which was all decked out in holiday decor. A polite smile was plastered on her face--her interview smile, he recognized from experience--as she listened to the host laugh along with the petite, young woman who he quickly recognized as her sister. Henry snorted in amused horror at realizing they were wearing matching outfits: Lizzie in white jeans and white sweater, her sister in a sweater dress of the same style. Cecily was all bubbly laughs and bright sparkles, while Lizzie simply looked cool and collected. They couldn’t be more opposite.

He had no idea why he was seeing his bandmate on a morning show, with her sister no less. As far as he knew, Lizzie did not talk with her family much. She flat out refused to talk to her mother, and as her sister was still signed to the family label, he had assumed they were also out of touch. And yet here they were, side by side, on his screen before nine o’clock in the morning.

Bloody hell.

Still looking at the screen, he took a sip of his tea and immediately choked on it, as he hadn’t let it cool enough. He hastily set it down, almost spilling it, and then wiped his burning lips against his sleeve. Grumbling, he reached for the remote to turn off his main source of distraction when he heard the very familiar sound of Lizzie on the violin.

He hadn’t noticed the microphone stand and instruments behind them before, but now he couldn’t miss them. One of their holiday concert features, he soon realized. The camera was focused entirely on Lizzie, and with her violin held high on her shoulder, she was playing slow, sweet opening notes to some unknown tune. She was filling his entire telly screen, and his heart jumped when her eyes flicked up to look into the camera. They danced with amused anticipation, and her lips curved into a small, playful smile just as the focus widened and revealed Cecily stepping up to the microphone at the center of the small stage.

Immediately the tune picked up into some upbeat, cotton-candy pop melody, and Cecily’s bell-like voice filled his flat. She was a bit pitchy, in his opinion, but it was mellowed by the bright hum of Lizzie’s playing. While Cecily bounced and winked her way through the first verse, center of attention for both the camera and live audience, Lizzie remained steadily in the background. The expertly played violin notes were a forceful reminder that she was still there, however, and her sister hadn’t seemed to have forgotten her either, as she turned and sang directly to Lizzie during the first chorus.

If that didn’t startle Henry, the genuine smile spreading across Lizzie’s face certainly did. That grin was not her interview smile from before, nor the tight one she gave him before critiquing his lyrics or composition, or the mischievous one she flashed across the bar when she got bored with her new bandmates and wanted some other type of male company. This smile that she gave to her sister was genuine and fond, and Cecily’s returning one was just as bright and sentimental.

The two played off each other, and the small studio audience threw out a holler or two in response. Both their excitment and the crowd’s grew as they danced their way through the second verse and chorus round, until Lizzie took center stage again during the bridge. She played with a lightness he rarely saw in their practice. It almost made him wonder if he should give in to Jasper’s demands that they add a few lighter songs to their next album.

That thought--and Cecily’s singing turning acapella as the song moved into its last movements--jerked him back to the present. Henry frowned as the melody wound down and the applause heightened. As Lizzie finished off the song the way she had started, only a little softer and more melancholy this time, he reached for the remote. A smile was in the middle of forming on her bright face when he flicked the telly off.

“Enough of that,” he muttered under his breath. When he turned to his remaining tea, he found that it was now lukewarm, and that he was running very late. Hastily, he dumped the mug in the sink and hurried towards his door, irked that something as simple as a Christmas song had put him off his routine.

* * *

As he was heading to Jasper’s office, he heard a familiar, rich laugh echo down the hall through the barely open door. Lizzie was already at the studio, then. His steps slowed as he approached, and he hesitated before knocking. When he heard her speaking, he dropped his hand entirely and listened, even though he know he probably should not be lurking outside their meeting.

“Thank you again for understanding,” Lizzie said in an entirely sincere tone. “I know it’s not the usual image the band associates with, but my sister very much wanted me to do this with her.”

“I’m just surprised you two haven’t collaborated on more projects,” Jasper replied. “Especially when you were both at your mother’s label. A sister act sounds like an obvious act.”

Henry scoffed silently at the same time that Lizzie snorted. “That is precisely why we never record together. My mother believes in maintaining a diversified portfolio, so if one front fails she has others to rely on. Besides, if Cecily and I had to work together on a regular basis, we’d end up murdering each other. Christmas actually was one of the rare times growing up that we didn’t fight.”

“The spirit of the season?”

“More like a common goal: finding the Christmas presents that our parents stashed away.”

Jasper laughed, and Henry just knew Lizzie was smiling the smile he had seen on her face from the performance this morning.

“Your mother apparently compromised this time on your collaboration,” Jasper commented. Henry waited for Lizzie’s answer carefully, as he recognized the probing nature of his manager’s tone.

“She accepted it, yes,” Lizzie replied simply. A pause, and then she carefully continued, “or rather she had to, once she heard it on the radio.”

Henry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. It did not shock him that Lizzie would go behind her mother’s back--especially not after signing with his label, which was a direct competitor. It was news to him, however, that her sister had gone along with the subterfuge.

“As I said, Cecily very much wanted to do this. My mother...she thinks newer Christmas songs are typically tasteless. A classical cover she could have been talked into, but a pop song?” Lizzie laughed, a little too forced to be believed. “But my sister is as stubborn as I am when it comes to music, and I was more than happy to help her with this particular project. I told her it was her Christmas present.”

“But your sister is happy at the label, generally?”

“I don’t know if my mother could let it go if you happened to steal away both of her daughters,” Lizzie teased. “Besides, like I said, I don’t think she’d be a good fit for the band’s image.”

“Maybe I want to diversify as well,” Jasper joked. Henry rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t put it past Jasper to come up with such an idea.

As Henry was deciding if his manager was indeed serious about the suggestion, he heard Lizzie and Jasper wrap up their conversation. He hurriedly pushed off the wall and strode down the hall. Once he was out of earshot, he leaned back again. Lizzie was laughing as she left Jasper’s office, coat slung over her arm. Though she was still wearing her outfit from this morning, her hair was in its usual messy bun with loose curls framing her face. Henry shifted against the wall and tugged at the collar of his sweater.

The movement caught her eye, and she gave him a half-smile, the one where he was never sure if she liked him or was mocking him.

“Henry,” Jasper said warmly. “Come in, come in.”

He passed her halfway down the hall, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Nice job this morning.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes, but her smile stayed the same. “Thank you.”

Without thought, he grinned widely at her, and she looked away, cheeks flushing. She kept walking, steps getting faster. He just watched her go, and when he turned around, Jasper was staring at him with raised eyebrows and a knowing look.

“Stuff it,” Henry grumbled as he pushed into the office.

Jasper chuckled under his breath before closing the door behind them.

* * *

Henry soon learned that however nonchalant Lizzie appeared about Christmas from her conversation with Jasper, in truth she was very much committed to the holiday.

She never wore a jingle-bell jumper or anything of that sort, but he could hear the holiday music blasting from her headphones when she walked into the studio, and her earrings were either little christmas trees or snowflakes or some other winter-themed object. Her gifts to the studio staff were fancy Christmas cookies from some expensive place downtown. He ribbed her about that, why she had not made them from scratch. She simply rolled her eyes and archly replied that one could not be good at everything, and he should be glad her talents lay in music so as to save his band from complete unoriginality.

And the whole band noticed when she made the news for impromptu Christmas caroling at a local nursing home. Jasper joked that if she kept this ‘nice girl’ image up, he might have to manufacture a scandal to remind their fans that they were a rock band.

“I only went to visit my grandmother,” she muttered when the laughing had subsided. “I had no idea she’d told everyone her granddaughter was a singer. You try saying no to the elderly when they’re begging you to bring them some Christmas cheer.”

Despite her irritated tone, Henry knew she had not minded performing for them a bit. In the photos from the papers, she was wearing that damn smile again. It seemed only the holiday could bring out that unguarded side of Lizzie, and it baffled him. With his upbringing--in and out of foster homes--this time of year didn’t mean much to him. He hadn’t woken up to presents wrapped in bright, shiny paper under the Christmas tree, or had hot cocoa made for him on Christmas morning, or even spent his holidays with family. Of course once he had gone to live with Jasper in his teenage years, the man had tried to give him some type of holiday traditions, but by then the time of year was tainted. Back then, he did not care a bit that it was Christmas, though now, being older, seeing Lizzie’s joy at the holiday, Henry wished that he had something that made the season special to him.

* * *

Leaning on the counter in the sound booth, Henry stared warily at the small green box wrapped with red ribbon in front of him. He knew he should just unwrap it, but every time he tried, he heard Lizzie’s bright voice calling out Happy Christmas! as she had swept into practice with a bundle of similarly wrapped boxes under her arm. Each member of the band had gotten a gift. John and Edmund had opened theirs on the spot, and throughout practice they hadn’t stopped talking about how bloody perfect the gifts were for them. It shouldn’t have surprised him, with her enthusiasm for the holiday, that Lizzie would be an expert at gift-giving. And not only did it take him off guard, it also made him nervous what she would consider ‘perfect’ for him.

Finally, after blowing out an irritated sigh, he picked up the square box and ripped off the paper. Opening the lid, he lent more care to his movements after seeing what was inside. Henry drew the delicate ornament out of the box, trying to read the text written on the side of the shiny, red ball. He breathed in sharply when he recognized the date--that of his first gig playing at that small, grungy bar in Wales--and immediately he spun the ornament around. On the front, a carefully rendered depiction of the bar’s sign was painted, and Henry was dumbfounded. Even his most dedicated fans didn’t always know where he had gotten his start, before even the band. She must have asked Jasper, he realized as he twisted the ornament this way and that, watching it shine even in the low light of the booth.

As he went to replace it back in the box, he noticed a note tucked in at the bottom. Taking it out, he recognized Lizzie’s large, looping cursive.

My family always exchanged ornaments at Christmas, so I thought I’d extend the tradition on to you. You better put it high up on your tree within plain view...and if you don’t have a tree, then get one, Scrooge. Happy Christmas, Henry.

- Lizzie

He laughed under his breath before tucking the note in beside the ornament. As he put on his coat and grabbed the box, he glanced at the clock and wondered if the local floral shop by his place was still open.

* * *

Once he sent the photo, he could not help checking his phone every few minutes. Being Christmas Eve, Henry couldn’t expect Lizzie to answer right away, but he couldn’t help himself. Jasper started to notice and leaned forward on the couch.

“Expecting a call?”

Henry shook his head and shoved the phone away. Jasper pursed his lips in amusement and then took a sip of his drink. Henry took a sip of his, and then another large gulp when his phone began chiming out a ring. Jasper chuckled and turned up the telly.

“Don’t mind me. Answer it.”

Henry grimaced but reached for the phone anyways. His pulse lept when he saw Lizzie’s name on the screen, and he just stared as it kept ringing. He had expected a text in response, not a bloody phone call. Suddenly the telly was piercingly loud, and Henry scowled at Jasper, who was just grinning.

Muttering under his breath, Henry got up and walked into his bedroom as he pressed the accept button.

“That is a sad excuse for a Christmas tree,” Lizzie blurted without even a greeting. “It’s barely a foot tall!”

Henry smiled at the insult and closed the door behind him. “Best I could do on short notice.”

“Christmas comes the same time of year, Henry,” she complained over the sound of Christmas music in the background. “How much more notice could you have needed?”

“Well, as it was my first Christmas ornament, it never crossed my mind to prepare.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and he winced at the slip of honesty. Before he could play it off as a joke, she spoke again, softer.

“Then I’m glad I was the one to give you your first.” He tried to say he was glad too, but his throat closed up and he couldn’t get the words out. She started humming absently over the phone before continuing, “And now that you have one, you have no excuse next year to not get a nice tree. It had better be as tall as you.”

“I don’t think that would fit in my flat.”

“I guess you’ll just have to invite me over so I can disagree.”

“I guess so,” he responded with a low laugh.

They both were silent for a moment. When finally he was about to say something--what, he didn’t know--he heard someone call her name in the background.

“You should go,” he blurted at the same time was she groaned, “I have to go.”

They shared another small, light laugh, and then grew quiet once more.

“Happy Christmas, Lizzie.”

“Happy Christmas, Henry.”

Though he couldn’t see her, he was entirely sure she was smiling that holiday smile of hers--genuine, fond--and this time, it was for him.

As he hung up the call, he started smiling as well, wondering when he might see Lizzie smile like that, at him, in person.

#henry x lizzie #henry x lizzie fanfiction #the white princess #the white princess fanfiction #lizzie x henry #my fanfiction #so we put it in a song

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dazingsky · 7 years

Text

Hinting (Reddie)

HELLO I’VE BEEN SUPER BUSY BUT HERE I AMMMM

summary: Hi can I get a richie x reader request? Where she's new and richie see her and is like damn and it turns out she is pretty much richie. This leads to clapback wars and the Losers constantly tease richie about his crush. One day the bickering becomes so much one of the Losers blurts out their feelings. Blushy adorableness ensues.

I CHANGED IT TO REDDIE, I COULDNT NOT IM SORRY HDHSBSJD

Anyway, word count: 1,783

Please leave me requests and enjoy this!

Richie Tozier’s friend group wasn’t exactly large. But it wasn’t exactly small. It was the perfect size. And Richie loved his friends. More than anything, each in their own way.

Richie loved Ben because he had a way of being happy no matter what. He always seemed in the mood to cheer up Richie. Ben wrote poetry, and shared his poems with the group. He talked about his old town, and complained about how he hadn’t moved to Derry quicker, and met the Losers.

Richie loved Beverly because she was always willing to smoke with Richie. Of course he loved her for other reasons, but that was a big up. Beverly was good with secrets as well though. Beverly was the first person Richie told when he realised he liked girls and boys. Beverly had laughed, and said “same”, whilst grinning at Richie. Richie loved her for not treating him differently, although none of the other boys judged him either.

Richie loved Mike because Mike was always cracking subtle jokes. He was good for a laugh. But he could also be ridiculously serious, at any time. Mike also knew a lot about food. He cooked for the group a lot, especially around the holidays. Full course meals. And deserts. It was amazing. It was heavenly food. Richie thought he could be a chef with the amount of knowledge of food, although Mike wanted to be a vet.

Richie loved Bill because he was outgoing, even though he had a stutter. Bill was also very good at art, and writing. He often wrote stories about the group, and painted pictures for each of the member of the group. And Bill was easy to talk to. About anything. Like Beverly.

And Richie loved Stan. Stan was Richie’s favourite member of the group. He was stern, and intelligent, and always managed to make Richie laugh. He made profoundly subtle jokes, which always managed to crack Richie up. Richie and Stanley had been friends forever, basically. And that’s why Richie trusted him enough with his ‘personal’ information.

He shouldn't have.

He had sat down, in Stan’s living room, beside Stan, and began the confession. “You know that new kid, in our year, Eddie?” Stanley had nodded slowly, not fully paying attention. The tv was playing cartoons, which were much more interesting to Stanley than most of what Richie had to say. “I think I like him..” Richie blurted.

This caught Stan’s attention. He turned to look at Richie, trying to remember everything about Eddie, so he could tease Richie. “You like the kid who wear’s pale pink jumpers, and carries around strawberry scented hand sanitiser?” Stan asked, a small smirk forming on his face, as he took in Richie’s appearance. A pink floyd tank top, black skinny jeans, a black hoodie, and a pair of black doc martins. And his black hair was a mess. “You.”

“Shut up.” Richie snapped, feeling a blush form on his face. Stanley smirked, a smug look on his face. “I don’t know what it is about him, but he’s just cute. And I don't know.” Richie sighed, rolling his eyes at Stanley.

“That’s cute Rich, a bit strange, but cute nonetheless.” Stanley laughed, as Richie hit his arm. “You have to admit, it’s kinda weird though. You guys are, like, polar opposites! Plus I’ve known you basically your entire life, and in your entire 16 years you’ve never liked anyone.” Richie shrugged, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t like talking about his personal feeling with Stan. Or anyone, for that matter. But he felt like he needed to tell someone. And Stan was the person he had chosen. Although now he was regretting it. “It’s no big deal, he probably isn't gay.”

“He’s completely gay. Through and through. One hundred percent.” Richie rose an eyebrow at Stan, causing the boy to shrug. “Have you seen him? He’s definitely gay.” Stanley laughed, again. “Do the others know?”

“No you’re the only person I’ve told.” Stan nodded slowly, thinking for a second.

“We should invite him to Bill’s on Saturday.” Stan suggested. “It’d be fun. Plus you don’t even have to invite him, if you feel nervous, I will! It’ll work like a charm!” Richie nodded slowly, although he had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

When Saturday rolled around, Richie was terrified. Stan had asked the other losers if it was okay for Eddie to come, and by the way Stan not so subtly hinted, they had all said yes so they could see Richie’s reactions throughout the evening. Friday afternoon, after biology, Stan had walked with Eddie and mentioned the movie day that Bill was hosting the following day. Eddie had agreed to come, almost immediately, and had grinned at Stan.

“He seems like a really nice guy.” Stan had said, in a bored tone, as he read through a magazine that had been lying on Bill’s coffee table. Stan had made himself at home in Bill’s house, almost as soon as soon as he’d walked in. Stan and Bill were very close though. Probably because they’re secretly in love.

“He is. He’s in my Math’s class, and he’s incredibly polite to the teachers.” Ben said, from his place on the floor. Richie turned to look at him, nodding slowly. “Exact opposite of you, Richie.” Ben teased.

Richie mumbled a quiet ‘shut up, Ben,’ and continued pacing. He had been doing that since he arrived at Bill’s a half hour ago. Bill had requested he stopped pacing around 5 times, but Richie continued.

“It’s so cute to see Richie this nervous!” Bev laughed, placing a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and turning him to face her. “Calm down. He’s just coming over to hang out.”

“What if he hates me?!” Richie was practically shaking. And then the doorbell rang. “Fuck.” Richie shrieked, as Beverly pushed him towards the door. Richie was shaking even ore now, nerves ripping through his body. He bit his lip, harshly, reaching his shaking hand out to grab the door handle.

Richie swiftly swung the door open, and came face to face with Eddie Kasobrak. Eddie looked straight back at Richie, opening his mouth slowly. “Is this Bill’s house?” Richie nodded quickly, in response to Eddie’s question.

“Come in!” Richie said quickly, stepping back to let the smaller boy into the house. Eddie walked inside slowly, looking around. Every one of the losers were stood at the entrance to Bill’s living room, watching the boys, intently.

Eddie looked over at the group assembled, in the door frame. “Hi.” He muttered, quietly. Everyone seemed to fall back into their normal selves, instead of staring at the boys. Beverly came over, greeting Eddie, which allowed Richie to slip away unnoticed.

“You need to calm down.” Stanley hissed at Richie, shaking his head. “Get yourself under control.”

Richie eventually did calm down. He went back to being his usual self. He sat on the floor, during the first movie, and made his usual crude remarks abut different things. Everything seemed to be going okay, until the losers began making jokes.

They were watching the main character from the film confess his love to the other main character. He had everything planned. He was going to sit the girl down, and say he couldn't live without her. There was a laugh from one of the couches, and then there were whispers throughout the group. Until, finally, a hand landed on Richie’s shoulder, and a daring Mike leaned down, laughing “Man, thats just like you” in Richie’s ear. Richie rolled his eyes, attempting to ignore Mike, but these jokes continued.

At first they were sightly subtle, but they continued to get more out there, until Ben casually said, “I think Richie should just tell him.” Richie immediately felt the flush crawl up his neck, continuing until it hit his face. Richie looked at Eddie from the side of his eye, watching as Eddie looked at the others on the couch, biting his lip. He knew. Those fuckers had basically just outed me, completely, to the boy who had only been sat with us for an hour. Richie thought. He instantly stood up, almost falling over his damn feet, and quickly made his way over to Bill’s front door. “I need some air.” He lied, and slammed the door shut after him.

He sat down, on Bill’s porch steps, and stared ahead of him. Any chances he had with Eddie had been flung out the window, because of Ben’s inability to keep his damn mouth shut. Richie stared off into the distance, biting his lip. He sighed loudly, when he heard the door behind him open and shut.

“Go away, I’m not in the mood, Stanley.” Richie snapped, without turning around. Stanley always tried to talk him down after he got pissed off.

“It’s not Stanley..” A quiet voice said, causing Richie to turn around. He looked up, at Eddie, who seemed to be looming over him. “Can I sit?”

Richie nodded slowly, watching Eddie walk down the first step, and sit down beside Richie. The pair sat in silence for a moment. Richie didn’t know how to even strike up a conversation with the boy beside him, so they just sat in silence. Until Eddie broke it.

“Do you like me?” Eddie asked, slowly. It was a blunt question, but there was genuine curiosity in Eddie’s voice. Richie turned slightly, looking at Eddie, with almost wide eyes. “Do you?” Eddie asked again.

“Yes..” Richie said quietly, looking down at his lap.

“Why?”

Richie looked at Eddie again, quickly. Eddie’s face was full of curiosity again, and he looked adorable. “You’re cute.. Really cute, Ed’s.” Richie said the nickname as if he had said it 100 times before, even though he had never said it before. He didn’t even know where it came from.

“We’ve never even talked before.” Eddie said, a blush forming on his cheeks, his eyes still wide. “How do you even know you like me..?”

“I just do.” Richie shrugged, fiddling with his fingers. His eyes were still focused on Eddie’s. So focused, in fact, that he didn't even notice Eddie leaning in, until Eddie’s eyes were closed, and his lips were pressed to Richie’s.

And then Richie’s eyes fluttered closed, and he found himself kissing back. And it was gentle, and slow. And to Richie it felt right. And he really hoped it felt right to Eddie, as well. Richie found himself pulling away, reluctantly, to find out why Eddie had kissed Richie.

“I do too.” Eddie shrugged, blushing more than before, and grinning. And Richie couldn't help but grin as well, leaning in to kiss the boy, again.

#Reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #stanley uris #stenbrough #one shot #it #it 2017 #it (2017)#it movie #fluff #requests

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spicelupin-blog · 7 years

Text

S.Black: Warm While It’s Cold Outside

Sirius Black. Marauder’s Era. Christmas Themed.

Request: Hiii could I request a Sirius x reader where they spend the winter break at school and have cute dates and chill wrapped in like 3 blankets and things like that? Thank you💗

Summary: In which, you and your boyfriend, Sirius Black are staying at school for Christmas break and you have a nice cuddle and hot chocolate date.

Warnings: None.

Genre: Purely fluff

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 2172

The Gryffindor common room is infamous for its natural comfort and radiating warmth into all the brave students that dwelled there. If you were one of the lucky lions that spent an abundance of time here doing homework, reading by the fireplace, or talking to your housemates, you felt at home whenever you entered it.

Even with all that coziness flooding the place, Sirius somehow managed to rip an anxiety shaped hole into it. When I walked in the evening after my last midterm, my eyes instantly connected to my boyfriend’s form on the couch. He was laying back, arms tucked under his head and ankles crossed on the armrest. All this was a very Sirius way to be sitting, not out of the ordinary at all to the average Gryffindor; nonetheless, I was no average Gryffindor. I had tame the rebellious Black and I knew all his twitches no matter how small.

For starters, he was bouncing his legs a bit. Not in a rhythm though, like he would do to muggle rock songs, but just aimlessly. He was also staring up at the ceiling, his eyebrows scrunched and his eyes full of heavy thinking. The most prominent thing was how silent he was. He would usually be talking to someone, anyone. Sirius was a social guy, he didn’t pass up an opportunity to talk to other people. Yet, here he was in a slightly crowded common room, not even paying attention to anyone around him.

This does not sit well with me and I headed straight for him. I startled Sirius out of his thoughts by grabbing his legs, moving under them onto the couch before returning them to their original position.

“Hello to you too,” Sirius mumbled, adjusting his legs where they now laid over my lap.

“I would have just said hello, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t have done anything,” I stated, making Sirius raise an eyebrow. “You were so deep in thought and all…” I trailed off, signaling that I wanted him to elaborate.

Sirius sighed, running a hand down his face. “I was thinking about the break.”

I frowned, confused. “You’re going to Godric’s Hollow, right? Spending Christmas there like always.” I knew Sirius’s situation with his family and how the Potters were like his adoptive family. Thinking about his family made my eyes widen, a new question coming to mind. “You’re not staying with your family, are you?”

Sirius gave a laugh at that, shaking his head. “I don’t think they’d allow me to ruin their celebration. You know how Christmas is the time for rich people to show off. With the balls and gifts. Imagine if I showed up in the midst of it. Walburga would Avada Kedavra herself.”

I playful hit his calf as I laughed. “Ha ha,” I mockingly laughed. “But really, what about the break?”

Sirius gave another great sigh, “I’m staying here.”

“Here?” I frowned, “Why?”

“The Potters are going away for the break and I didn’t want to impose. They invited me, but it feels strange to come with them on a family holiday. I already live with them outside of school, I don’t want to ask for more. They should be able to go away without seeing my face.” Sirius explained, playing with a button on his school shirt. “James is their son. Not me. I don’t want them to feel forced to invite me into their family bonding time.”

“They’re not being forced to do anything, Sirius.” I disagreed. “They invited you because they want you there.”

Sirius shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I feel like I’m a bother to them sometimes. I don’t want to ruin their Christmas by being moody.” He looked up at me with sad eyes but tried to mask them by smiling. He grabbed one of my hands, pressing a kiss to it. He changed the subject by asking, “So what are you doing for the break, dove.”

I squeezed his hand while replying, “I’m not sure yet. Father is in Switzerland with the step-brats,” A lovely term I’ve labeled the two obnoxious children that have forced their way into my life by my step-mother. “And mother is in Paris. I don’t know what’s worse, being asked a million rude questions by mum or enduring the hell of being with you-know-who.”

“Are you talking about the Dark wizard or your stepmother?” Sirius smirked.

“I wish I was talking about the Dark wizard.” I joked, laughing softly.

When we stopped laughing, Sirius spoke softly, “What about staying here?”

I raised an eyebrow. Before this conversation I had no reason to stay at school for break, but now that I knew Sirius was staying it gave me many reasons to.

“I don’t know, Sirius. Do you want me to stay?” I teased, knowing the answer by how Sirius waited for my answering with hopeful eyes.

Sirius scoffed. “I thought you were an independent women, Y/N? Doesn’t my opinion on what I want you to do mean nothing?”

I shrugged, trying to move Sirius’s legs off me to leave. “I guess you’re right. I better go pack for Paris then.” I jokingly tried to make my leave, but Sirius pushed his legs back down to trap me.

“Wait!” He exclaimed, looking a bit panicked at my reply. He took a breath and I knew it was taking a lot from the confident Sirius Black to plead for me to stay at school with him. “Will you stay at school with me? I’ll make it worth it, promise.” He peered out from between the dark locks that had fallen into his eyes.

I grinned, giving in immediately. “How can I say no?”

The day everyone headed off to board the Hogwarts Express, I hugged Lily and Marlene goodbye before walking up the stairs of the boy’s dormitory. I waved goodbye to three of the Marauders a few minutes ago, no Sirius in sight. Remus seemed to have read my questioning look, eyes flicking up to the dorms for an answer.

I knocked once before the door flew open to reveal a barely clothed, sleepy Sirius.

He was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, grumbling something along the line of, “Merlin, Wormtail did you forget you jumper or something?”

“Actually, I think it’s you who have forgotten your jumper.” I pointed out, observing his shirtless chest.

Sirius immediately looked up at me, realizing I wasn’t his short friend. “Dove, what are you doing here so early? Did you miss me that much?”

I rolled my eyes, a giggle escaping my lips. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I saw the others leave and you weren’t with them and all. But now I see your lack of clothes might be the reason.”

Sirius grinned, letting me into the empty room. All the beds were made neatly except the one with Gryffindor banners everywhere and a handful of muggle motorcycles and half-naked girls’ posters.

“Ew, I thought I told you to take these down.” I wrinkled my nose as I saw the bikini-clad girls.

“Jealous?” Sirius asked as he flopped onto his bed.

“No, they’re degrading.” I huffed. “I understand you’re all ‘rebel without a cause’, but still.” I stood by the side of his bed, arms crossed with annoyance.

Sirius grabbed me by the waist, hauling me on top of him. I let out a squeal of surprise and Sirius gave a hearty laugh at my girlish noise. “You’ll have to give me a few pictures of you to replace them. Trust me, I’d much prefer you on my wall then them.”

I pushed off his chest to a sit position next to him. “In your dreams, Black.”

“You have no idea.” Sirius grinned, staring at me in a way that made a blush dust my cheeks.

“Gross.” I rolled my eyes sheepishly, trying to get off the bed.

Sirius grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. “No, stay with me, please.” He gave me big puppy eyes that he knew made me go all kinds of soft.

“Fine.” I agreed, making Sirius grinned and pull me back down so I was laying on his chest.

He pulled his comforter back over us, cutting us off from the cold air in the dorm. Very soon, I was falling into a deep sleep, enveloped in warmth radiating from Sirius’s skin.

When I woke up, the room was dark. The curtains that had been drawn to cover any morning light from early, was still blocking out any and all light. I felt completely limp, not wanting move from the comfortable spot on Sirius' chest.

Under me, his chest was rising and falling peacefully. I lazily looked up at him, resting my chin flat on my chest. His mouth hung open a bit, light snores being heard. His eyelids were fluttering like he was dreaming. His hair was mussed from sleep, spread out around his head like a dark halo. I just laid there, watching him sleep as I felt myself slowly regain strength to move.

As my mind turned back on, I started wondering what time it was. We had fallen asleep not long after the Hogwarts Express had left at 9 o’clock. It had to be only about noon, yet the sky seemed dark behind the curtains.

I lifted my body from Sirius’s, feeling how hot I was from sleeping on the human furnace that is Sirius. One thing I had come to love about Sirius is how he always was warm and smelt amazing, like fresh pine. With the season, the fact that Sirius was eternally warm and smelt like a grand Christmas tree really made cuddling the most enjoyable activity.

I padded across the cold floor to the nearest window, wanting nothing more than to rejoin Sirius in bed. I pulled back a side of the curtain a tab, peeking outside. The Hogwarts grounds were being pelted by snowflakes that were rapidly falling. The grounds were already covered with a thick layer of snow, now slowly rising. I pressed a hand to the glass and a shiver ran up my spine at how cold it was.

“Are you really choosing watching snowfall over napping with me?” Sirius asked in a raspy voice. I turned around to faintly see a groggy Sirius in the dim light, splayed out on the bed.

“It’s pretty,” I noted with a shrug.

“Frankly, I’m prettier.” Sirius declared, standing from the bed to join me by the window. He must have been able to feel the cold weather radiating through the window because he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Merlin, it is freezing.”

I nodded. “I love this kind of weather. When I’m inside, that is.”

“Why is that, dove?” Sirius inquired, wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling me close.

“Well, you can watch the world get covered in frost, but you’re inside in the warmth. You can drink hot chocolate and cuddle. Then there is Christmas. Christmas has a whole other list of why it’s amazing.”

Sirius snuggled his head into the crook of my neck. “Why don’t we do some of those things on your list? You go down into the common room, pick out your favorite cuddling seat and I’ll go to the kitchen and snag us some hot chocolate. You know how into it the house elves get during Christmas.”

“Ooh,” I sounded at the idea. “And get some of those cute cookies too. The snowman ones are my favorite. I love the sweets they use to decorate.”

Sirius smiled against my neck and kissed my jaw lovingly. “I’ll grab the lot of them.”

Sirius and I walked downstairs, hand in hand. I plopped down on the couch that was the comfiest. Sirius planted a long kiss on my lips before sauntering off to the kitchens.

When he returned, a basket of cookies hanging on his arm and two festively decorated mugs of hot chocolate in either hand.

“I have the goods!” Sirius exclaimed.

“You’re lucky no prefects are here otherwise you’d be in deep shit for being so loud.” I teased, taking the mug with a reindeer on it.

“Nothing like getting an earful from Evans to ring my Christmas bell.” Sirius laughed, sitting next to me. He put the basket down on the floor by the couch. “Here we have our reindeers, our bells, our scarves, candy canes, mistletoes for the lovers,” He winked at me, “Christmas trees, snowflakes, and of course, at the requests of the love of my life, Ms. Y/N, snowmen.”

“You’re the best!” I kissed his cheek, grinning.

Sirius gave me a smug grin, shrugging. “You’re a lucky girl, my dove.”

I smiled back, picking up the decorative candy cane hanging on the side of the mug. “The luckiest.” I agreed, biting a piece of the peppermint treat.

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