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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

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submerse myself in brie // fred weasley

Summary: Bill & Fleur’s wedding is quite the event… too bad about those wedding crashers. Anyway, what wedding is complete without awkwardness at the buffet table?

Request: Are you taking requests? If you are could I ask for another Fred Weasley? Maybe something where they’re fighting together (bills wedding or battle of Hogwarts maybe?) and the reader rescues him in some way but gets injured herself but not fatally because I can’t deal with too much angst 🙈 hope that’s not too specific... also just wanted to say I love your writing it’s amazing 💕💕

A/N: thank you!!!! Terribly sorry for how long this took holy cow but I hope this is alright love I loved the request and that is why this is so long also I wasn’t quite sure how to split up the flashbacks so like we’ll see how this goes

Reader: female

Warnings: injury, battle, suggestive, couple stuff, alcohol, suggestive, implied sex

A groan peeled open your lips before you could even think about opening your eyes. You couldn’t really focus on anything, though, not when everything just ached, not with your head pounding and your ears ringing. People’s feet blurred past you, rushing and falling with flashes of light. You frowned. Blades of wet grass pressed against your cheek. The smell invaded your senses.

Fred groaned like a child at Molly’s pestering, the vibrations echoing down your spine. You rolled your eyes, pressing your back further into his chest in response.

“When I get married,” he said, turning to face George with a grimace. “I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a full-body-bind curse on Mum until it’s all over.”

Molly tutted at her son, ignoring him for the most part as she scurried away to fix something else that didn’t really need fixing.

“Oh, really, mate?” George said, drinking his tea.

You were happy to see him up and around; you remembered how scared Fred had been after the incident on the broomsticks. The bandage around George’s head still looked particularly grizzly, but you were glad he was feeling better.

“Does Y/N have anything to say about that?” he said cheekily, hiding his face in his mug as he watched you with playful eyes.

“Why would I?” you asked, pulling away from Fred to grab a piece of toast off the table. “It’s not like my standards are low enough to marry this git.”

“Oi!” Fred huffed.

You tried to move out of his reach before he grabbed you, or worse, tickled you, but you weren’t fast enough and you squealed as he clapped his hand on your arse.

“Cheeky,” Fred said, pointing at your accusatorily as you glared back, pulling your dress straight with your toast balanced in your mouth.

“Might have to teach my wife a lesson,” he teased, shooting you a wink. As you moved to sit by George on the kitchen counter, you mimicked Fred, ignoring the backflips of your stomach at his words.

Your stomach flopped again as you rolled over, the wet grass splaying over your face, no doubt covering your cheeks in mud. There was a sharp pain at your side and a nagging in your head as you tried to remember what exactly was happening. Where you were. Where the bloody hell Fred was. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, every breath felt like daggers in your side, your ribs bruised horribly. Whatever happened had certainly left you winded. It could have been worse, though, you thought as your vision cleared up.

Standing up was almost impossible and each breath was wheezy as you fought the fog clouding your mind, your knees sinking into the mud as you did. Your dress was ruined, that much was obvious. The fabric and your skin were both covered in dirt and dust and black marks as you reached your feet. You tried to smooth it down, but it didn’t seem worth it, especially not as your eyes trailed up to see the wedding tent.

Well, what was left of it.

The golden marquee was in tatters, torn here and scorched there. Guests were running under the archways and disappearing into thin air like there was no tomorrow, no doubt encouraged by the black figures shooting brightly coloured spells at their feet. You almost wished the ringing in your ears hadn’t stopped as the sounds of shouting and carnage began to fill your senses.

“Y/N, you look lovely, dear,” Molly said, the pride in her voice obvious.

“Thanks,” you said, shooting her a wink. “I’ll be sure to pass the message on to my stylist.”

She laughed at the joke, patting your hand softly and leaving to tell someone off, no doubt. You remembered fondly her insistence earlier that no, she was never too busy to do her favourite soon-to-be-daughter-in-law’s hair. It was a good job though, you thought, that Fleur was too busy getting dressed up herself to hear that one.

You finished your champagne, more than grateful that the flute was enchanted as you watched it refill. As you stared, you became suddenly aware of someone’s eyes on you and turned to see Fred sat beside you, a strange look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked lightly, sipping your drink.

“Nothing,” he said, a decidedly un-Fred-like smile playing on his lips. It was far too angelic to be recognisable in his features.

“Is there something on my face?”

You all but slammed your glass on the table, using the shiny napkin holders to try and get a better look at your reflection.

“No,” he chuckled, his laughter only growing as you made faces, looking for some stray crumbs or Aunt Mildred’s lipstick. “There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, stopping your borderline-neurotic inspection. You looked up at him with a pout and a fond smile spread across his lips.

“There is,” he said, cupping your face in his hand and running his thumb along your cheekbone. “Nothing wrong with your face.”

Struggling to hide your pleased grin at his compliment, you leant into his touch.

“Sounds like someone has a crush, Weasley.”

“Oh, really?” he said, his hand leaving your face with a pout in its wake. You smirked though, when he scooted his chair closer to yours, like a child, leaning on the back of yours with his elbow instead.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, his smile contagious. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” he said conversationally, leaning the side of his head on his hand. “I think you might be the one with the crush.”

“How did you know?” you said dully, slowly placing a hand on your chest in mock surprise. “How can I ever cope with the knowledge that you will never feel the same?”

He barked a laugh at your dry, monotonous tone, his head dropping to the side as he watched you for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. That was before, however, a sly smile lifted his lips – a look you were very familiar with when it came to Fred. You fixed him with a suspicious stare.

“How about we get out of here?” he said, shifting in his seat.

“What?”

Your eyes followed him as he stood up, brushing down his suit briefly before offering his hand.

“Come on,” he insisted impatiently. He made a face at your unwillingness.

“Fred,” you said incredulously, shaking your head at his gall. “This is your brother’s wedding.”

“I have other brothers,” he shrugged before rolling his eyes and leaning down to grab your hand. “And we’ll be back in 20 minutes, half an hour, maximum.”

You stood up, enjoying the way his hand twisted to thread your fingers together.

“We will, will we?” you said, raising your eyebrows with an amused grin.

“Yes.”

He moved to wrap his hand around your waist, pulling you closer so he could whisper in your ear.

“With you looking like that, I doubt we’ll need any longer, sweetheart.”

You choked out a laugh at his words and looked around you as you escaped through the side of the tent.

“If we get caught-“ you threatened, cutting yourself off when he shot you a smirk.

“Live a little, sweetheart.”

“Fred,” you said quietly, your voice coming out hoarse. You blinked, swallowing and letting yourself adjust to the frantic rush of your surroundings.

“Fred,” you repeated, slightly louder this time as your heartbeat began to race.

People were apparating in and out like wildfire and there were already a few bodies collecting on the ground. Only injured, from the looks of it, but your mind thought the worst. Spotting your wand on the ground, you bent down to pick it up, your whole body singing in pain at the stretching of your muscles.

“Merlin,” you muttered, a grimace contorting your features. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

You searched for someone you knew in the crowds, a recognisable face in a sea of sparks and mist and gold wedding decorations. Your reactions weren’t the best, though, and your head was swimming. Albeit, though, you were grateful to be getting your land-legs back with each shaky step. Every flash of red hair you saw had your heartbeat jumping, but none of them were Fred, all most likely some distant Weasley cousin and none of them anybody you wanted to see right now.

What had even happened? One minute you and Fred were watching Fleur and Bill dance – she did look ever so lovely in that dress – and the next you woke up on a bed of damp grass with a killer headache and a distinct lack of memories. You didn’t have to be a genius, though, to put two and two together. The dark figures slowly herding people inside the tent and shooting spells every which way were Death Eaters; you could only hope that Harry had gotten out safely. Despite your hopes, though, your thoughts were preoccupied with Fred and you found yourself praying that he was okay.

“Fred!”

You hoped you weren’t giggling too loudly, and that your dress wasn’t too creased, and that it wasn’t too obvious what you’d just spent the last 23 minutes doing. As you snuck back into the tent, you separated from Fred, shushing him and moving to interest yourself in the buffet as to avert suspicion. Necessary, you figured, with Fred being so very suspicious. Typically, he ignored your plans and followed you to the buffet table, a cheeky grin slapped across his face

You glared at him, distracting yourself with the mini sausage rolls and putting as much distance between you both as possible. Harry, unlucky as ever, was caught in the crossfire.

“You alright there, Harry?” Fred said, looking over the display. “Any of the classically beautiful Weasley cousins taking your fancy?”

“I’ve got other things on my mind, actually, Fred,” Harry said tightly. You felt your stomach drop slightly; he was far too young to be carrying so much weight on his shoulders.

“Ah, no mind,” Fred replied, as unaffected and blasé as ever. “I’m sure you’ve got your eye on someone else anyway, eh?”

You watched Harry’s face heat up and rolled your eyes affectionately: Fred had a knack for turning even the darkest of issues to humour.

“I’ve got my eye on someone here actually,” Fred said, piling cocktail sausages onto his plate with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, turning to face Fred. He clearly didn’t care but you did notice his double-take and frowned, your brows drawing together. “Who’s that?”

“Well, if I told you then I’d have to kill you,” Fred nodded solemnly, shoving three mini sandwiches in his mouth at once and shooting you a surprisingly subtle wink.

“Sorry, uh,” Harry stuttered, pointing at Fred and then gesturing to his own face. “You have, uh, something on your-“

“What?”

Fred frowned, his mouth stretching as he swallowed the food and began to rub at his cheek.

“Lipstick, I think,” Harry said, decidedly awkward.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, not daring to look at Fred

“Ah, cheers for that Harry.”

“Not a problem, Fred.”

With that, Harry turned to leave, surprised to see you behind him. You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips and you prayed to Merlin, Godric and even Salazar that he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Alright, Y/N?” Harry said softly, his mouth set in an embarrassed smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a couple of octaves too high. “Thanks. Enjoy your…”

You looked down at his plate, swallowing uncomfortably as you felt your face heat up.

“Chocolate frogs.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

You clenched your teeth as Harry walked past you, cursing Fred under your breath. Chuckling, he slid next to you, his plate once again overflowing with food.

“Brilliantly eloquent there, love. I don’t doubt that Harry’ll enjoy those chocolate frogs, but I’m sure your well wishes are appreciated.”

“You’re the worst person alive,” you snapped, not looking at him.

“That is not what you said earlier,” he said smugly. You turned to shoot him a dry look as he pushed a block of cheese into his mouth.

“I hate you so much,” you insisted, your smile giving you away.

“Me?” Fred pressed a hand to his chest defensively, spewing crumbs everywhere as he spoke.

“Yes, you-“

Your bickering was cut off by the clinking of a spoon against a champagne class. You both turned to face Molly, who was looking particularly happy with herself as she announced Fleur & Bill’s first dance.

“Come on, you pig,” you huffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the crowd forming around the happy couple. Despite his grumbling, he put down his plate and followed you. Ever the gentleman, he brushed off crumbs onto his trousers before grabbing for your hand.

As you watched them dance, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It was hard not to imagine you and Fred in their shoes in a couple years. Molly always told you that you argued like an old married couple as it was, surely it wouldn’t do any harm to make it official. You couldn’t think like that now though, not with the constant threat of war looming. It never seemed more real, though, than when Kingsley Shacklebolt’s patronus appeared, his deep voice ringing through the tent, announcing the incoming storm, creating a frenzy.

Fred’s hand tightened around your own and when the Death Eaters started appearing, you were grateful for the contact. You looked between the faces you recognised, somewhere between heartbroken and horrified to see Ginny and Molly already firing out spells; Harry, Ron and Hermione rushing outside, hopefully apparating to safety. Distracted by the others, you barely noticed a Death Eater appearing next to Fred. Fred, in his panic, didn’t seem to either. Just as he readied his wand, you found yourself pushing Fred to the side and out of the crossfire. The force of the hit ripped your hand from his and the last thing you remembered before you were knocked out cold was your body flying through the side of the tent.

“Y/N!”

You spun around, the new memories and very familiar headache making you wince as you all but collided with Fred, suffocated instantly in his tight grasp.

“Merlin,” he sighed, his breath fanning against your cheek as you struggled to form a sentence. “Am I glad to see you.”

He pulled away, cupping your cheek with one hand whilst the other still held your waist gently. “You had me so worried.”

He didn’t need to tell you that; you could see it for yourself. His relief was slowly ironing out the deep crease between his brows and his eyes were shining with tears in the light of the moon.

“Pushing me out the way like that, what were you even thinking? Could’ve been killed. Merlin, you flew right through that tent, George had to hold me back, he did. If I wasn’t so bloody worried, I would’ve ripped that bastard to-“

“Fred, we really need to go,“ George insisted, his eyes drifting to you for a moment as he anxiously fiddled with the wand in his grip.

“Hang on a minute,” Fred said distractedly, turning to his brother for a moment as his fingers slotted behind your ears, cradling your face.

“Are you okay, love?”

You breathed for a second, only vaguely aware of the commotion still going on around you. Without another moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around Fred’s neck, holding him close and revelling in the familiar scent of his shampoo. You smiled as he relaxed in your hold, his chin digging into your shoulder.

“Guys-“ George said, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. Fred pulled away abruptly, his worried eyes scanning your face.

“Are you alright to apparate?” he asked, wetting his lips with his tongue.

You nodded.

“Let’s get the hell out of here then.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens @thisismysketchbook @zhangixingxing1 @cedricscoffin @ccabian @amourtentiaa @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #imagine #writing

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allweleftunspoken · 3 years ago

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a short human au kam oneshot ✨

I wrote this at like 3am a while ago so I apologize if it’s not the best lol

without further adooo here’s my shitty attempt at writing fanfic XD

— —————- ———

Keefe let out a dramatic sigh as he flopped back onto his bed. He tossed the book he was reading aside because if he had to read Shakespeare for one more second his brain might, quite literally, explode. He was bored and Tam was here, so he might as well move on from homework to annoying his best friend.

“Taaaaammmm” Keefe sighed, kicking Tam’s leg lightly, “Pay attention to meee.”

Tam looked up from his book and tilted his head, “Aren’t you old enough to entertain yourself?”

Keefe threw a pillow at him, but Tam caught it and threw it back, hitting Keefe in the face.

“Well that backfired.” Keefe mumbled while rubbing his face. Tam laughed and set his homework aside. He pulled a leg up to his chest and rested his head on Keefe’s knee,

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Keefe said, ignoring the backflips his stomach was doing.

“You’re right, I’m not, that was hilarious.”

Keefe moved his knee causing Tam’s head to fall.

“Rude,” Tam said, glaring at him.

Keefe laughed, as Tam got off the bed and walked over to Keefe’s dresser. This was their relationship. They laughed and semi flirted but neither of them were brave enough to make the first move. He also didn’t even know if Tam w anted to make a move. Could he be imaging all the flirting? Maybe Tam was like this everyone.

He shook his head and returned his focus to Tam who was now messing with the bottle of black nail polish on the dresser.

“Can you do mine later?” He asked, “It would drive my parents crazy.”

Keefe got up and walked over to him,

“Yeah sure. It drives mine crazy too,” he said with a sad laugh.

Tam laughed too and set the bottle down.

It was safe to say their parents weren’t the best. They were horrible actually. Keefe couldn’t count how many times he’s come home from school to be the subject of his Father’s anger. Whether it was screaming, or throwing things, or the occasional trip to Keefe’s bedroom to destroy Keefe’s sketches, Keefe couldn’t do anything. His mom wasn’t much better. She just stood by and let it all happen, occasionally adding to his list of ‘things to hate myself for’. They fought all the time. He couldn’t remember a day where there wasn’t screaming of some sort. To top it all off they were homophobic. Keefe hated it. He hated it here. He knew Tam’s home life wasn’t much better either, and he hated that. He hated that Tam had to deal with this. No one should. They’d talked about it before, once they even cried because they were so tired of it. They’d talked about running away, but Tam said he couldn’t leave Linh. Keefe had said she could come with them but then Tam said that Linh would never want to leave Marella and Biana. So they decided to wait until they’re eighteen. Then they’d all leave together. They’d move as far away from them as possible and never look back. Keefe couldn’t wait.

He watched Tam pick up one of Keefe’s rings and fiddle with it. Keefe couldn’t take his eyes off him. The sun was about to set and the light was peeking through his window, casting a warm glow over the entire room. Tam looked like he was glowing. He looked beautiful. He always did. He’d never actually tell him that though. He wished he could..he wished he could tell him a lot of things.

Tam set down his ring and turned to Keefe, catching him staring, “What?”

Keefe blushed lightly, “N-nothing.”

“You were staring at me.”

“No-No I wasn’t-“ he stuttered.

Tam raised his eyebrow.

“Hey you knocked over my nail polish,” Keefe said, subtly changing the subject. He reached behind Tam to fix it, but then he looked down to find Tam staring up at him. Keefe’s stomach dropped. They stayed like that for a while, both of them staring at each other, and neither of them moving. It was almost as if they were scared to. Like moving might break the delicate trance that they seemed to be in.

At some point Keefe’s eyes moved down to Tam’s lips. He could’ve sworn Tam started move towards him then, but before he could know for sure a door slammed downstairs.

They both flinched at the noise and quickly leapt apart.

Seconds after the slam, the arguing started. The loud arguing that usually lasted for hours at a time, which could only mean one thing.

His parents were home.

Keefe scratched the back of his head,

”So....”

Tam shoved his hands in his pockets,

“So...I don’t have to be home for a couple of hours...wanna go get coffee or something?”

Keefe could’ve kissed him. He really wanted to actually.

He let out a big breath and whispered, “Yes please.”

Tam smiled, “Ok, just let me get my stuff.”

He started putting his books in his backpack while Keefe got a sweatshirt and pulled it on over his school uniform dress shirt. He grabbed another sweatshirt and turned to Tam,

“Wanna wear this?” When Tam started to get flustered he quickly clarified, “Its getting cold out, you might need it-“

Tam took it and quickly thanked him, and pulled it on over his uniform as well. He put on his backpack and started walking towards Keefe’s door before Keefe stopped him,

”Yeah no, we’re going out the fun way.”

It was also the way that avoided running into his parents downstairs cause he...really didn’t need that right now. He took Tam’s arm lightly and lead him over to the window,

”Oh come on.” Tam sighed.

“Where’s your sense of adventure Tammy boy?”

”I must have lost it somewhere.”

Keefe flicked his bangs, and then out the window they went.

—————————

“Ok but that was the best cookie ever, I can’t believe they just gave it to us for free.”

Tam said as they walked back to Keefe’s house from the coffee shop they ended up going to. The sun had set now and it was dusk. Keefe loved this time of day, when everything was still and quiet and beautiful.

Keefe laughed, “They probably gave it to us because I’m so attractive.”

Tam blinked, “That literally makes no sense whatsoever. “

Keefe smirked, “I don’t hear you disagreeing.”

Tam shoved him with his arm.

“You’re so annoying.”

”You love me.”

”That’s debatable.”

Keefe clutched his heart, “You’ve wounded me. I don’t know how I’ll ever emotionally recover from this.”

Tam rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile.

Keefe knew Tam loved him, platonically if not anything more. He wished it was more, since Keefe had been falling in love with him since the 8th grade. He could never say that though, since he still wasn’t sure how Tam felt. He might never be sure...

They walked for a few more minutes before stopping in front of Keefe’s house.

He looked at Tam and found him already staring at Keefe. He held his gaze and whispered, “Here we are.”

“Here we are.” Tam took a small step towards Keefe, “I should probably head home now...”

Keefe’s heart was in his throat. What was happening right now?

”Probably...”

Tam looked down at their hands and Keefe gathered all the courage he had and started slowly reaching towards Tam’s hand. Their fingers barely brushed before Tam intertwined them. Keefe couldn’t believe this was real. Was this real? If it was dream it was a hell of a good one. He’s liked this guy for years and now it finally happening-how was this happening-?

His voice was hoarse as he whispered, “You know we’re holding hands right now right?”

”Yeah I noticed.”

”And you’re...ok with that..?”

”I’m more then ok with it.” Tam’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, and Keefe almost passed out. No way this was happening. No way he was holding hands with dude he’s like since he was fourteen.

”Keefe..” Tam whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

”Yeah...?”

Tam took a small step towards Keefe, and moved his hands to his face, slowly moving it down to his. He paused, his voice so soft Keefe could barely hear it, “Can I....”

Keefe answered him by connecting their lips. The kiss was slow and everything he’d ever imagined it would be, and more. He never wanted it to end, but it did. They broke the kiss and Keefe leaned his forehead against Tam’s lightly.

“Did that actually just happen...” he whispered.

Tam laughed softly, “Yeah, it did...”

Tam then pulled Keefe into a hug, holding him so tight he thought he might break something. He didn’t mind one bit, and he held him back just as tight.

They stayed like that for a while before Tam whispered the words Keefe thought he’d only ever hear him say in his dreams.

”I like you Keefe. I have for a really long time..”

Keefe smiled bigger then he’d ever smiled in his entire life, “I like you too Tam..”

Tam leaned back from the hug to look at him, “Well I’d hope so since you just kissed me.”

Keefe laughed and after a few more minutes of talking (and maybe kissing) they said goodnight. Keefe watched Tam walk away and thought about what just happened. How did that just happen? He wasn’t sure, but he was sure as heck glad it did. Does this mean Tam was his boyfriend now? He’d work up the courage to ask him tomorrow. For now he went to bed and dreamed about a boy with silver bangs and soft hands.

#They own my heart and soul #kam #kam kotlc #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen #tam song #homophobia tw #im a bitch for them

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

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Down the Rabbit Hole part 35

Just looking at Makado makes me realize how incredibly tired I am. “Makado,” I say, trying to put a little bit of that weariness into my voice, “please, I just want to get Elena out of here.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Makado tells me. “Take your helmet off.”

“Makado,” I start, but she raises the gun and coaxes a threatening-sounding click out of it.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and reach up and pop the helmet open.

“Now take it off slowly and drop it.”

The helmet thuds to the floor with a dull clunk. I keep my hands open, bent at the elbows, roughly shoulder-height. I guess it’s a testament to how often this has happened to me lately that I’m not particularly panicked or flustered, even though she has a gun on me. I look into her eyes; they’re about as kind as a brick wall, a far cry from the Makado I knew - well, that I thought I knew. I don’t think she’ll shoot me but I don’t want to push her.

“Makado,” I try again, speaking softly, “I know that you’re upset, but -“

“Upset?” she laughs. “That is a big understatement, Roan.”

“As if you have any right to be upset at me,” I snort. Makado’s eyes flash but I press onwards anyway. “You’re the one who was trying to literally fucking frame me for all the illegal shit you were doing -“

“You got Peter killed,” she says. My mind goes blank for a moment before I nearly laugh. I choke it back down; if I started laughing, either out of terror or nerves or just pure exasperation, I know I’d never stop, and I know Makado would probably shoot me.

“Makado,” I say, stammering a little bit, “I didn’t - there was nothing I could have -“

“Then how come you lived and he died, huh?” she says. I think I hear a crack in her icy demeanor and I look at her - really look at her. She glances away after a moment or two, and when her gaze swings back and hits mine whatever I thought I might have seen, whatever small vulnerability, has already faded away. “How come you lived?” she asks.

The barrel of the gun trembles gently.

“Mak,” I start. I want terribly to be angry at her but something about the way she’s acting is just making me sad instead.

“Don’t call me that!” she yells. She slips her finger inside the gun’s trigger guard and I feel my breath catch. Maybe she really will shoot me; if she’s mad enough, if she thinks that somehow I caused Pete to get…to get leeched, or whatever the hell…

“Peter was the only one who ever called me that,” she murmurs. I know I’ve called her ‘Mak’ before and she never made a fuss about it but I guess this is special circumstances.

“Pete is - was - a fully trained ranger with dozens of expeditions under his belt, he might have - “ Makado licks her lips and tries again - “he might have gone a little downhill after 2007 but he was still sharp. He would have gotten out of there no problem. But he dies and you live?”

“Was that the plan?” I ask. If I can keep her talking maybe I’ll be able to pull something, but deep down I doubt it. “You send me down there hoping I’d die in an accident or something?”

“Of course not,” she says. “But if I had to choose between you and Peter…”

“That’s cold,” I tell her. She starts to say something, but I continue before she can. “But I get it. You loved him, huh?”

“Of course I loved him,” she says, sounding mildly scandalized. “You wouldn’t understand, I’m sure.”

“Why, because I - ? Oh, whatever,” I grunt. “Whatever, Makado. Just shoot me and get it over with.”

“I don’t want to shoot you.”

“Right, of course,” I snarl, putting as much venom into my words as I can. “You want to hand me over to the feds so I can suffer for your sins, right? That’s the endgame here, right?”

She has the good graces to flinch, at least. “I don’t -“ she starts, but I shake my head.

“Whatever,” I tell her. “What happened to Elena?”

Makado looks round, her eyes resting briefly on the wreckage of the autodoctor unit. “I don’t know,” she says. “When I got down here it was like this, and Elena was gone. I was going to -“

“Kidnap her so you’d have some leverage?”

“Bitch, will you stop fucking assuming the goddam worst of me? I was planning on tracking her down and getting her out of here.”

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her, my voice flat. “How did you even know she was here?”

“Because I heard the two of you sopping all over each other on the radio,” she tells me, her voice hard-edged with disdain. “Soon as I heard she was here in DUSA, I split off from my team and rushed up here. Guess I was too late.”

“Goddam it,” I mutter. My cheeks are burning a little from the knowledge that we’d been overhead; I guess I could have assumed, but it still had felt like it had been something private, something special we had shared. Maybe I wouldn’t have broken down quite so hard if I’d known Makado had been listening in. “It must have been the Leechman,” I mutter, glaring at the gaping hunk of metal torn away from DUSA’s hull. My eyes are stinging and I wipe them hurriedly, not thinking, and when I take my hands down Makado is glaring at me very seriously over the sights of the pistol, and I realize that the quick motion nearly made her shoot me. My stomach does a backflip and I stammer out the beginning of an apology before she mutters a curse and takes a length of rope from her suit pocket.

“Hands together,” she orders me, and with a sigh I slap my wrists together and hold them out to her. She comes to me with the rope and hesitates for a moment; I know it’s because she’s only just realizing that she will have to put the gun away to tie me up.

“I’ll hold that for you,” I offer, and in spite of herself she laughs.

“Turn around,” she says. “Hands behind your back.”

My heart is thumping heavily in my chest as I do. I am trying very hard not to imagine the Leechman bursting into here like a demon straight out of a horror movie and swallowing Elena up into its swollen leechy body. I can feel my hands trembling as Makado takes my wrists and lashes them tightly together. The rough synthetic fiber cuts into my wrists and I grunt. Makado steps away from me and I flex my hands experimentally but it’s no use, she’s tied me tightly enough that I’d never be able to free myself unless I had a knife. She’s already taken mine from the sheath on my belt and tossed it casually to the dusty, oily floor.

Elena’s dead. I can’t stop the thought from echoing around my skull, increasing in severity with each impact. She’s dead, she’s gone, I was too late. If I had just been a little quicker, if I hadn’t stopped to sleep, if I hadn’t…

“Hey, what are you - oh, Jesus Christ,” Makado grumbles. I sniff and look away from her. I try to keep it down but a quiet sob bubbles out of my throat.

“Goddam it,” I mumble. I can’t even wipe my eyes. My shoulders are shaking with the weight of it, with the weight of knowing that -

Makado sighs behind me. “You didn’t kill her,” she says. “If she’s even dead. We don’t know.”

I let out a terribly mirthless laugh. “You didn’t kill him,” Makado continues, begrudgingly. “I know you didn’t, it’s not like you put a gun to his head and shot him. I just…”

“Don’t want him to be gone,” I suggest, and out of the corner of my eye, through a veil of tears, I can see her nod.

I feel as though I might rip in two the next time someone touches me, but in spite of everything I do want to reach out and touch her, brush my thumb along the knobby edge of her wrist, feel her warmth near to me. Maybe it’s pathetic and stupid, maybe I should be spitting and cursing and swearing revenge but I can’t bring myself to. I want to just curl into a little ball and cry.

Makado is rustling around behind me, and then I hear the click and crackle of a radio. “Peterson, Rodriguez,” she says, enunciating clearly. “Status check, over.”

A moment passes and then the response comes burbling up through the airwaves. “Peterson, checking in. I’ve got Rodriguez here with me but he’s carrying the crystal so he couldn’t call himself. Everything’s good down here. ETA 20 minutes to DUSA. Over.”

“Thanks. You were able to disable the specimen? Over.”

“Hard to say. It backed off but Emmanuel is hurt pretty bad. One of those leeches, it got into her suit and chewed the hell out of her leg. We’ve got her on a stretcher and we’re bringing her back but I don’t know if she’ll make it. Is the autodoc functional? Over.”

“Negative,” Makado says. Her voice is tight and fraying. “Negative, it’s smashed. It looks like the Leechman got here before we did. Over.”

“Shit. Well, Emmanuel is fucked, then. Do we have support from topside? Over.”

I hear Makado mutter a quiet curse below her breath. “Give me a second,” she says. “Out.”

I sniff hard and duck my head down into my shoulder, try and wipe my eyes against the rubber of the ranger suit. Makado is tapping at the pad in the arm of her ranger suit; she’s put the gun away at this point, tucking it into her holster at her hip. I could make a run for it, I reflect. Instead I fold my legs beneath me and sink into a huddle on the floor a little like a gazelle bedding down for the night. Makado glances over at me and then back at her screen. “Who’s Emmanuel?” I ask. My voice creaks partway through it, and when I clear my throat it comes back thick and congested.

“None of your business,” she tells me, a little absently. “You’d better stop crying,” she adds.

“Fuck you,” I tell her, but I can’t put much heart into it. “Fuck you for trying to walk all over everything and try to do it your way. You walked all over me, you walked all over the team, you walked all over Peter -“

Makado looms over me, ruddy bolts of fury sparkling behind her eyes. “You have no idea, you have no idea -“ she starts, but I roll my eyes at her.

“Do you have any idea how many people are dead because of you?”

That catches her, and I get a vicious little thrill out of seeing how it impacts, how she absorbs it, how her eyes grow even wearier. She starts to say something but I start listing off names.

“The Sergeant. Peter. Slate. Erica and Marcus. Klaus. Crookshank. Euler. Ellis. Emmanuel, whoever that is. And El - Elena,” I say. I have to swallow hard to get that last name out but I manage it. “They’re all your fault, Makado. If you hadn’t gone off the deep end because of this stupid fucking crystal none of this would ever have happened. Does it really matter? Does it really matter this much? Is it worth it? Tell me. Please. Do you even know?”

“They knew the risks,” Makado tries to say, but she isn’t meeting my gaze. “You wouldn’t understand,” she says, a little bit of strength returning to her voice. “You don’t know what it’s like to -“

“To have an obsession take over your life?” I finish, and she blows a breath out.

“I’m the only one trying!” she yells. “I’m the only one fucking trying to stop all of this! That crystal is the only thing that we have that we know can shut down the Pit if it wakes up again. Getting it back should be our top priority -“

“And the last time one of those crystals was used,” I point out, “it infected - I’m sorry, how many people? - with a fucking personality-destroying disease that spreads when you feel emotions and forces you to crawl into the Pit to die.”

“We know better now,” she says, hands on her hips. “We know what we did wrong. If we don’t shatter the crystals -“

“How do you even know? Aren’t you just guessing?”

“You have no right to tell me how to do my job,” she tells me. I can see her knuckles whiten with rage. “I’m doing what needs to be done. If the Pit woke up and became fully ambulatory, it’d be the end of the world as we know it. If you think that isn’t something worth stopping by any means necessary, then you’re either stupid or insane. Maybe both. If I -“

“Okay, Makado. Whatever,” I tell her. I feel as though if I shut my eyes I’d be able to fall asleep in about a minute. My heart hurts.

Makado glares at me and for a moment, just a moment, I think she might be about to draw her leg back and slam the hard edge of her boot into my gut, but instead she spins on her heel and walks away, fishing the radio out of its holster on her belt and talking quietly into it.

I think for a while about struggling to my feet and just walking out. I don’t think Makado would shoot me, I really don’t. I think she wouldn’t have the heart for it. Maybe she’d just let me go.

Elena’s dead. You haven’t seen the body, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind, but I don’t need to see the body. If the Leechman got her, I’m not sure I want to see the body. I would want my memory of her to remain clean. I want to remember her in the tent smiling down at me, I want to remember her hands on my body, the way her lips felt when she kissed me, the way my heart felt when she kissed me.

I spend the next twenty minutes or so agonizing myself before the clunk and hiss of heavy machinery, burbles glutinously up from outside the rent in DUSA’s hull. With a little difficulty I manage to sit up and look outwards, and I see three orange figures in ranger suits marching up out of one of the vents leading to this organelle. Two of them are carrying a fourth on a stretcher, and the third…

My mouth drops open. The third is incredibly bulky, far more so than a normal person in a suit, and as they come closer and step into range of DUSA’s flickering floodlights, I realize that they are wearing something like a white enameled arthropod over their arms and legs, a squat mechanical spider perched on their back like a backpack. Its limbs extend along the ranger’s arms and fill out into armored gauntlets encompassing their hands.

And in their hands, hefted with an assurance and strength borne, I imagine, solely from their armor’s assistance, is the crystal, green and spiky and menacing, with an ugly luminosity flaring somewhere deep inside of it. I think again that I can see something moving within its murky depths.

Makado rushes out to meet them, leaving me forgotten, and again I consider getting up and just walking away. I think I’ve missed my chance, though; if it was just Makado, she might let me go. With everyone else here, all of these other rangers, there’s no way I’d be able to get away with it. And who knows if she’d have any compunctions about letting someone else shoot me.

Makado, to her credit, only paused briefly to tell the ranger with the crystal where to set it down before rushing to the ranger on the stretcher. Even from a distance I can tell that she’s hurt badly; her orange suit is splattered with blood and there is an enormous hole in her side. I think I can see teeth marks. One of the rangers shows something to Makado; it looks a little like a very thick, dark length of rope, and I realize with a horrible twist in my gut that it’s a dead leech. It looks to be about three or four feet long; it’s head has been torn off and it trails a thick, foul-smelling ichor behind it in a long oozing trail.

The huddled conversation over the wounded ranger continues a while longer before the group breaks apart. The ranger with the exoskeleton carries the crystal into DUSA, moving with almost exaggerated care through the hole in the wall. He looks down at me as he passes, craning his neck around the crystal to make sure he isn’t going to bump into me. “You alright?” he asks. He has a thick Texan accent that makes me smile in spite of myself.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Do you think you could untie me?”

He pauses. “You’re tied up?”

“Yes,” I say, rolling halfway over and waggling my fingers at him. “See?”

“Why are you tied up?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You’re Dzilenski, aren’t you?”

“I, uh. No.”

“No? What’s your name, then? I haven’t seen you around before.”

The weight of the crystal doesn’t seem to be troubling him at all. He cocks his head at me.

“Merriweather,” I tell him. “I’m new.”

He waggles a finger at me; the servos of the exoskeleton make little whining noises as he does. “Nice try,” he tells me, but I can tell from the shape of his voice that he’s grinning. I shake my head a little and give him a halfhearted smile.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” I suggest, and he laughs as he stomps off towards the stairwell, the crystal glowing malevolently in his arms.

A few moments later someone is taking me roughly beneath my armpits and hauling me to my feet. I stagger a little but keep my balance. I look over and see Makado glaring at me from a few inches away, but it seems as though her temper has died a little; there isn’t quite as much venom in her gaze as before. Without uttering a word to me she marches me out of DUSA and towards one of the rangers, standing on a small, bulgy lump of flesh with their hands on their hips. I feel a spike of fear in my stomach. “What are you going to do with me?” I ask her.

I can see Makado’s lip curl out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not going to kill you,” she tells me. “Peterson there is just going to take you up to the surface and give you back to the feds, that’s all. Then this whole stupid thing can be over and done with.”

“So that’s it, huh?” I ask, breaking out of her grasp and turning to face her. “You’re just going to throw me to the wolves? You really think that you can get away with this?”

“Roan,” she groans. “Do you think I want to fuck you over? Do you think I want to do this?”

“Well, from the way you’re acting -“

“This thing is bigger than you or me,” she says. “And I’m - I’m sorry,” she tells me. To my immense surprise I actually believe her. “I’m sorry, and I don’t want to ruin your life like I know I’m going to, but I - I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

Before I can say anything Peterson takes me firmly by the arm. Makado swallows hard and nods to him. “Take her up. There should be a contingent of FBI agents somewhere up there, I know it’s a mess but they should still be hanging around, probably yelling at Admin. Let them know she’s Roan Dzilenski, they’ll take it from there.”

“Right,” he says. “Come on, then.”

I stare back at Makado all the way over to the vent leading up to the passage out of here; she refuses to meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Peterson mentions, adjusting his grip on me to push a hanging fold of flesh out of the way.

“If you’re so sorry, let me go,” I tell him. He has a quiet, apologetic tone.

“I’m not that sorry,” he explains, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Look on the bright side,” he suggests. “You’ll be out of here soon. I’m sure that will be a relief.”

“Yeah,” I snap, “I’m sure that -“

Something falls onto my shoulder and I let out a shriek. It rolls off and slaps onto the ground with a wet, meaty thump and slithers away.

“Are you okay?” Peterson is asking. “What was that?”

I look up, knowing what I’ll see, but the Leechman actually comes at us from the side, the leeches boiling out of the fleshy wall with a noise like a million hungry mouths gnashing and chewing and slurping simultaneously, leaving the wall pockmarked and collapsing. Peterson blurts out a surprised curse and lets me go, his hands darting to his holster, but the Leechman is faster. It reaches out with a massive, dripping, writhing paw and fixes it around his head, lifting him bodily off the ground. Rodriguez screams and I hear commotion from behind, in the main organ housing DUSA, but his screams quickly become muffled and gurgly and thick. His hands and legs are shuddering and jolting like he were being electrocuted, and then my stupid, shell-shocked nerves finally, finally kick into motion and I stagger backwards. My foot catches on something and I fall; the ground comes slamming upwards to meet me and the breath whooshes out of my lungs just as the Leechman drops Peterson. The helmet of his suit is bent and crushed and although he lands on his feet, his body sways gently back and forth like a wind were catching it. The Leechman stomps past me and I cringe away from it, but it ignores me entirely. Its footsteps resound through the meaty floor and rattle my teeth in my jaws.

I am so scared I think I might throw up. Every fiber in my body is screaming at me to get up and run away, but I can’t force myself to move. “Hey,” I whisper, as the Leechman ducks its broad, wormy head and pushes into the organ. “Hey, uh, Peterson, are you okay?”

Rodriguez turns and looks at me and I scream. His face has been eaten away to nothing and his jaw is hanging from a few stringy tendons on the left-hand side of his skull. He shambles towards me and I scream again, and I hear my screams echoed from back behind me in DUSA’s chamber. It’s only a few moments later that the gunfire begins.

I kick my feet and try and push myself away from Rodriguez’s corpse. As I watch a leech crawls out of his mouth and plunges its snub-nosed head into the wreckage of his eye. The body lurches closer to me and into the light and I get a better look at him; my stomach nearly turns. I scream again and try to kick at him but he just catches my leg and drags me closer. The bone of his skull and the scraps of meat and flesh on his face are stained a dark, inky black with a dripping, noxious ichor. Without any preamble the body straddles me and shoves its fingers into my mouth. I choke and cough and try to kick and bite but it’s simply too strong. My eyes are filling with tears but I can still see the body’s cavernous mouth yawning and yawning and the body of an enormous leech slowly struggling up Rodriguez’s pitted, masticated throat. Though it has no eyes or face I imagine it leering at me, and though I redouble my efforts to get away, my throat convulsing in anticipatory terror, I can do absolutely nothing to stop what is about to happen to me. At the very last my courage fails me and I just squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the leech to barrel down my throat, wait with an anticipatory cringe to feel its needle-sharp teeth dig into my insides.

Instead I feel more than hear a horrific, bone-shuddering crunch from just ahead of me, and when I snap my eyes open it takes me a moment to comprehend what I’m seeing. Jutting from Rodriguez’s chest amid a thorny cluster of broken ribs is a bulky mechanical hand absolutely slick with gore and ichor. With a harsh mechanical whine it makes a fist and withdraws from the grapefruit-sized hole it made in Rodriguez’s chest and then seizes the body and flings it off of me. The body lands against the side wall of the vent with a wet crunch and then flops to the floor and lays still.

“Joker,” I breathe. The robot’s blocky, flat-panelled head is staring down at me with what I imagine to be a rather odd expression. It’s pitted and stained and rusted and every couple of seconds sparks burst from its torn left arm socket. Its armored torso is battered and dented and it moves with difficulty, but it still leans down over me and with incredible gentleness tucks its blood-drenched hand beneath me and brings me lightly to my feet. A moment later it has untied my hands and I can feel the blood rushing back into them with a clustering ache of pins and needles.

I can scarcely breathe I am so relieved but I still manage to reach up and put my hand on the machine’s metallic chest. “Jesus Christ,” I tell it. “I am so fucking happy to see you.”

But before I get any more out, a tall, blonde-haired blur slams into me and wraps me up in long, strong arms and lifts me off of my feet and nuzzles her face against mine. “Oh god,” Elena says, and before she can say any more my greedy, bruised lips find hers and for a moment, just a moment, amid the gunfire and the screams, I feel completely okay.

* * *

When we finally break apart and Elena sets me down on my wobbly, weak-kneed legs, I reach up and take her face in my hands. I still can’t quite believe that she’s here, that she’s alive, that she’s okay. My heart is beating so quickly that I almost feel nauseous and I don’t trust myself to speak. Elena’s eyes are wide and slatey; they flicker over me, dancing like roulette balls, just as she runs her hands over my arms, my legs, my sides and back. “Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is shaky. I try to speak a few times but I can’t get any words out so instead I just nod. Elena leans in and kisses me again, briefly this time, and then, with her lips brushing my ear she murmurs, “I was so scared, Roan, I was so scared that I had lost you, I thought -“

“It’s okay,” I tell her. There’s another scream from DUSA and we both jump. I grab onto her desperately as she starts to pull away. “Listen, are you alright? The gunshot -“

“I’m okay,” she tells me. “I promise I’m okay. Jesus Christ I thought I lost you. Let’s get out of here.”

Next to her, Joker shifts on his damaged heels and creaks forward further down the vent, towards DUSA. Elena curses. “Hey, wait. Stop. We have to go.”

Joker ignores her. “Elena,” I ask, “what the hell happened? Why is Joker -“

“Whatever the Leechman did to him down in the barrows jarred something loose or damaged him somehow, he’s operating completely autonomously.”

I stare at Elena. “You’re not controlling him?”

“No,” she says. “He - I think he heard our conversation on the radio, that’s how he knew to come to DUSA to get me. It’s a good thing he did or Makado would have gotten me. He burst right in through the wall, it was fucking terrifying.”

“Joker did that? I thought it was the Leechman, I thought you were dead -“

“No, no, it was Joker! Oh, god, baby you must have been so scared -“

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Where did he take you?”

Joker looks back at us, then returns his gaze to the scene inside the organ ahead. The screams have largely died down now, but I can hear Makado shouting something, and a high-pitched electric whine that sets my teeth on edge.

Elena shakes her head. “He must have been monitoring Makado’s transmissions, I think he has to have a radio receiver in there somewhere. He grabbed me and brought me down to a little organelle maybe a mile away and we just sort of hunkered down there for a while.”

“Did he hurt you? If he -“

“No, no, he didn’t, it’s okay, I’m okay. Joker!” she yells. “We have to go!”

Joker ignores her. There is a curious sense of animation about its pose and its motions, quick and precise and birdlike. As I watch, its fingers flex tightly enough to dig deeply into the fleshy wall it rests against. Again its head swivels and glances back at us and I think I can feel its nonexistent gaze resting on me. “Elena, if you’re not controlling it, then who is?”

“I don’t know,” she says, glancing over at me. “I think nobody.”

“But how could it -“

“Roan, listen, forget about that for a moment.” Her lips are tugging upwards in an irrepressible smile and I can’t help but mirror her. I want to hold her and kiss her and - “there was something I needed to tell you, something I needed to tell you face to face,” she says. My stomach swoops upwards in a surge of delight and I reach out, take her hand in mine.

“Yes?” I ask, trying to sound innocent and oblivious.

“Roan, I -“ she starts, but before she can get more than a few words out, there is a whipcrack of thunder in DUSA’s chamber, and Joker bolts forward like a sprinter off the starting line, and we both scramble into action and chase after him.

DUSA’s wet, fleshy cavern is in utter disarray. Dead leeches are littered everywhere and there are massive stains of ichor and blood splattered all across the cavern, as though someone upended buckets of paint and flung them. A crushed, distended corpse in a black-stained suit has been driven so deeply into the flesh of the floor that it has nearly been snapped in two. Of the Leechman there is no sign, but as we watch, Makado and three other rangers come storming out of the other vent and take up defensive positions around it, hunkering down and training their weapons on DUSA’s hull. Makado is carrying a long grey brick of a rifle, bulky and supremely un-ergodynamic, with what looks like a lens in place of a barrel. I wonder about it for a moment before a sickly green glow floats into view and the Leechman emerges from DUSA, ducking its titanic head, with the crystal beneath one of its arms, held as casually as one might carry a basketball. It pauses there for a moment, peering out at the four small figures opposing it.

Makado looks scared; her face has paled to a sickly white and I can see the rifle shuddering in her trembling hands.

I can’t see where Joker’s gone; I catch Elena’s eye and frown, but she nods upwards a little, and I see the robot just above us, clinging to the ceiling like a monkey. It seems content to wait for someone to make the first move.

Behind the Leechman an orange-suited figure takes a juddering, unsteady step into the light, and I can see the limp exoskeleton clinging to its limbs like a length of sodden rope. Another figure follows, and then another, and even in the dim half-light, lit by strobes and flashlights and headlamps, I can see their bodies bulging and throbbing with the gallons and gallons of leeches seething beneath their skin.

My stomach betrays me and I bend double and vomit, trying furiously to wipe the image from my mind, but I can still see the man’s distended belly glistening beneath the orange ranger suit, pregnant with its load of parasitic cargo, and the thought sends a wave of furious revulsion scurrying up my limbs, coaxing rank, cold sweat out of my pores.

The Leechman takes a deliberate step forward and Makado pulls the trigger on her rifle. A coruscating lance of blinding white light jolts from the barrel with the same deafening whip-crack we’d heard before and spears the Leechman through the core of its body, blowing a meter-wide hole open clean through it and filling the air with the smell of burning leeches. The Leechman staggers back a step or two and reaches out to steady itself, dropping the crystal; it clunks to the floor with a strangely musical tinkle and I can see a few of the spikes shatter and fall to pieces.

Makado rises to her feet, a little color returning to her cheeks, and fires again. This bolt catches the Leechman through the head and forces it down to its knees. It puts one massive hand forward to catch itself and Makado burns it off. She advances on the Leechman, firing again and again until the thing is just a pile of writhing, dying leeches, slowly burrowing into the ground and the walls and the ceiling, trying to escape. The bodies of the parasitized rangers shudder and twitch but they hesitate, standing still as though bereft of any governing intelligence.

Finally Makado pulls the trigger and the gun hisses a loud, screeching complaint and vents an enormous gasp of steam from recessed ports in its side; through them I can see the gun’s innards glowing white-hot, and Makado tosses it aside after glaring down at it in disgust. She draws her pistol from her holster and trains it one-handed on one of the rangers, squeezing one eye shut and glaring down the sights.

I open my mouth to suggest to Elena that it might be time to leave, but before I can get a word out the Leechman charges past us, out of the mouth of our vent, forcing a shriek from my mouth, and bowls into Makado headlong, sending her flying. She slams into the wall on the far side of the organ so hard that I can see a Mak-shaped bruise forming in the Pit’s flesh when she flops to the floor, limp and helpless, either stunned or unconscious or dead.

The rangers open up on the Leechman but if the laser wasn’t enough to kill it, bullets clearly aren’t going to be enough either. The three parasitized rangers surge forwards as well, wading into the fray, but the Leechman is doing the heavy lifting. I cringe back against Elena as I watch it pick up a hapless, screaming ranger and pull him in half, a spray of gore and guts flooding from the man’s cleft torso and legs. I clutch at Elena, trying desperately to get my legs beneath me, and she pulls me up and steadies me.

“We have to go,” she says. I can hear a note of hysteria in her voice. I take a shaky step backwards into the vent and feel a leech writhe and squirm beneath my cleats. Another one leaps at me and thuds into my back. I can feel its jaws working to pierce the thick latex of the ranger suit, and I hop frantically, trying to reach backwards and dislodge it. Elena brushes it off of me and crushes it beneath her boot just as the Leechman vomits a tidal wave of blunt, wriggling bodies into the pried-open chest of another ranger, struggling weakly in the creature’s squirming grip.

More leeches patter against us, driving us unwillingly out of the vent as we crawl and duck and dodge, trying to avoid them. A nerveless, exoskeletoned paw swipes at me clumsily and I scream and throw myself out of the way. From my vantage point on the ground I see Elena shove the infested ranger back and unload the entire magazine of her pistol into his gut, but the body staggers towards us still. I can see Elena’s teeth bared, a mad glint in her eyes, and I know that she is about to charge the thing and I know that it will kill her, but I haven’t enough breath to tell her not to.

Deeper in the chamber, the Leechman plucks the head off of a ranger’s pinioned, struggling body as easily as separating an apple from a tree and fling the chunk away like a bloody comet. It slaps wetly to the ground only a few feet away from me and I roll back from it, nearly mad with terror. I can see the Leechman slowly turning towards us and I am so afraid I think I might die just from fear alone.

“El - El - El - “ I try, again and again, but I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I can’t think -

Joker drops from the ceiling directly onto the parasitized ranger, landing with a sickening crunch and a whine of servos. Its head snaps upwards and regards the Leechman with a calculating stare, and the Leechman, impossibly, stops. It seems to cock its head at Joker, and then it takes a step forward, heavy and inevitable and menacing, but before it can go any further Joker launches itself at it with a scream of straining metal and whining pistons. I struggle to my knees and brush the leeches off of Elena, checking her suit for holes or punctures.

Joker is losing. The Leechman has torn its other arm off and tossed it aside, and now it’s yanking at Joker’s leg. Joker is lurching spasmodically back and forth, trying to get free, but the Leechman has too strong a grip on it. The leeches are flowing over the robot’s metal form and in a few more moments it looks as though it’ll be enveloped entirely. I can see Joker’s head turn with what seems like a titanic effort and peer back at us, and then it disappears beneath the surface of the Leechman.

I tug Elena to her feet and take a few faltering steps back towards the vent before there is a colossal wave of sound and light and heat from behind that bowls me over and knocks me face-down in the sopping, bloodstained flesh. Elena falls over me with a scream and for a while all we can do is cling to each other and pray that whatever the hell happened is over quickly.

A moment passes, then another. I roll over and, with more than a little trepidation, sit up.

It looks as though a bomb has gone off. There is a bloody, charred crater in the floor, and all that remains of Joker are a few metal fragments, embedded like shrapnel in the floor and walls and ceiling. The parasitized rangers have all been cut down, most of them separated into small pieces of flesh, both leech, and human, smeared across DUSA and the organelle like daubs of lumpy paint.

Of the Leechman there is no sign, and when I glance over at it, I realize that the crystal is gone as well.

After another few minutes of utter stillness, Elena and I look at each other. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I glance down at myself.

“Somehow,” I say, “I think I am. Are you?”

She pats at herself cautiously, peers down at her legs, wiggles her foot. “I think so. Did Joker - ?”

I point to the crater. “He must have exploded. Either there was some kind of self-destruct or whatever engine or motor it used was damaged, or…”

“Jesus,” Elena breathes, getting shakily to her feet. She offers me a hand and helps me up and for a little while all we can do is survey the carnage. I feel as though I want to cry and laugh and throw up all at the same time.

I squeeze Elena’s hand. “What were you going to tell me?” I ask.

“Is now really the time?” she smiles, and I bite my lip to keep myself from grinning back at her.

“At this rate, if you don’t say it now you’re never going to.”

“Roan,” she says, putting a hand on my cheek, “I -“

There is a groan from across the cavern and we both snap around. Over there, on the far side of the wall, Makado is starting to sit up. She looks shaky and shell-shocked and terrified. She sees us and tries to get to her feet, but her leg buckles beneath her and she falls back to the ground. Elena’s eyes narrow and she lets me go, starting towards Makado, her hands curling into fists. I have a knot in my stomach.

“Elena, wait,” I call after her. She spins and stares at me and then shakes her head.

“Don’t look,” she tells me, and for a moment, just a moment, I think of going after her and stopping her from - from doing whatever she’s about to do.

But instead the coward in me wins out and I avert my gaze, squeezing my eyes shut, my insides tensing in anticipation of a gunshot. I hear Makado cry out weakly, and I shudder.

There is a loud, satisfying smack, as of fist on jaw, and then a flopping sound. I look up and see Elena wringing her hand, cursing beneath her breath, before she flips an insensate Makado onto her stomach and, folding the woman’s hands behind her, begins to lash her wrists together with a length of paracord. She looks up and sees me staring, registers the expression on my face and gives me a laugh.

“You thought I was going to kill her?” she asks, and I blow a breath out and try to calm myself before I answer.

“I didn’t know what you were going to do,” I say, truthfully.

“I’m not a killer,” Elena tells me, hefting Makado’s slim frame onto her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Jesus Christ,” she adds, adjusting her load a little. “This little shit is heavy.”

I kick at a piece of wreckage, a folded metal panel, bent from the force of the blast, and then reach down and with difficulty pull Joker’s battered torso out of the crater. Elena sets Makado down none too gently and comes over and squats beside me.

There’s something that looks a little like a car battery, jammed into a slot in the torso. I tug at it, using my foot to hold the hunk of metal steady, and it breaks free with a hiss like a seal being broken. “What is that?” Elena asks. I shake my head.

“BCPU - Property of Anodyne Berlin,” I read. “Mind Impulse Unit - B. Walken.”

“Walken?” Elena asks, incredulous.

“No,” I say, “this can’t - no, that’s ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“Burt Walken was Erica’s husband,” I tell her. “B. Walken, Burt Walken. She told me he died from the psychic illness from 2007, that Anodyne had never returned his body.”

The top of the box is translucent plastic, but it’s too dark to see inside. Elena reaches down and grabs her flashlight and shines it onto the box, and we both squint at it. When I comprehend what I’m seeing I nearly drop it - for there inside the box, soaking in a briny, gelatinous fluid, festooned with wires and covered in metal electrodes and circuits, are the ridges and folds of a clearly human brain.

* * *

“What were you going to tell me?” I ask Elena again once she gets off the radio. She’s spent the last fifteen minutes begging and cajoling and cursing someone on the surface to try and get them to send someone down to get us and finally, finally gotten a begrudging affirmative. I can slowly feel my spirits rising, and Elena even gives me a secret little smile as she comes to sit next to me, sinking down against the wall of the vent with a groan of relief. I lean my head on her shoulder and she kisses me gently on the forehead. A wash of warmth floods down my arms and legs and I have to restrain myself from seizing her and clutching her to me.

“You sure I shouldn’t just leave it a mystery at this point?” she asks, and I elbow her lightly in the ribs.

“Tell me,” I insist.

Elena leans back and takes my chin gently in her hand, inclining my face upwards to her. I can see her studying me, see her pupils dilate as they flick from my eyes to my cheeks to my nose to my lips. “I love you,” she says, and my heart jumps in my chest as though struck by lightning. I can feel myself grinning madly, and then our lips brush and then fit together as though they were made to do so.

And then, when our breath has finally grown short enough to force us to break apart, we slowly rise, Elena’s hand in mine, scarcely daring to tear our eyes from each other, and begin to gather our things for the long journey up.

Continue with the Epilogue

Back to Table of Contents

#mystery flesh pit #Down the rabbit hole #writing #writeblr #alt lit #mystery #fiction #Novel #Michael Crichton #caving #disaster #the end

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cyanide-mustard · 4 years ago

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Distraction (Part 1)(Reggie Peters X Reader Fanfic)(JATP)

This is my first time writing/posting a fanfic so please go easy on me but also constructive criticism is appreciated. There will be a part 2, so If anyone would like to be on a tag list for this specific fic or general fics in the future, just send me a message. Anyways, on with the fic!

Description: Reggie wears a new outfit and the reader gets a little flustered and carried away.

Tags: F/M, Bisexual female reader

I’m going to kill Julie.

I came to this decision while we were finishing our last song of the night. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Julie with all my heart. She's an amazing friend, but all I can think about now is how I’m going to kill her. I know she didn’t do it on purpose or have any ill intent, but I’m about to have a stroke, and it’s her fault.

She and Reggie had disappeared earlier in the afternoon, and I hadn't seen either of them until we got on stage, but as soon as I saw them, my heart stopped beating. Julie and Reggie must have decided he needed an outfit change, I’d never tell him, but I thought he looked amazing in what he wore, whatever he wore, though this might have been too extreme of a change for my poor little heart.

When I first appeared on stage, everything was normal. My guitar was in my hands, and I was ready to play. I was stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Reggie. He was wearing a red and black plaid skirt that cut off mid-thigh and his signature leather jacket. I even missed the first couple notes of the song, making the boys look over at me with concern on their faces. I shrugged it off and tried to keep my eyes on the left side of the audience but it was a struggle not to look at him. I was finally beginning to cool down and loosen up when, oh no, Reggie started to make his over to my side of the stage. We stood back to back as we played together; my heart was doing backflips, and my pulse was racing with no signs of slowing down.

Reggie went to his side of the stage once the song eventually ended. I let out a sigh of relief, only to immediately regret it. When he made it back to his side, he took off his leather jacket to reveal a black, sleeveless muscle tee. I pried my eyes from the current target of my spiralling thoughts, knowing that if I let myself stare any longer, I wouldn’t be able to hold my tongue, or my lips for that matter. “Get it together,” I said to myself a little too loudly. Alex looked over at me with confusion until he moved his gaze over to Reggie and back to me when the smuggest smirk appeared. I had a feeling that we would be talking about that later. I don’t know what supernatural force decided that I deserve to be punished like this. I never did anything too bad while I was alive. Sure I told my fair share of lies and maybe I did some less than angel-like behaviour, but nothing bad enough that would ever make me deserving of this toture. I'm pretty sure that when I died, I went to hell. I went to Hell, and watching Reggie in his current outfit was to be my punishment for eternity. And as torturous as this was, the worst part is that I can’t touch him and that I never would be able to. He’s too involved in my life for me to risk telling him about my feelings and them being unreciprocated. He’s helped me through thick and thin and has always been there to help me in my time of need. I would never be able to live with myself (while I guess I didn’t since I was dead) if I ever ruined the relationship I had with him and the band.

We played the rest of the set with minimal errors from me. Thankfully the knowledge of my feelings towards Reggie was kept just to Alex, though Julie gave me a look every so often that made me feel like she knew exactly what was happening. ‘We’re almost done’ was the mantra I had been repeating to myself the whole night, then we finally were almost done. I grabbed a drink of water in passing as we moved onto our last song of the night, ‘Edge of Great’.

As we played through the song, Reggie made his way to me again, but instead of going back to back like he normally did, he brought his face close to my mic to sing with me. He was close enough that I could practically taste his cologne on my tongue, thick and suffocating, but sweet all the same. The smell of cinnamon burned my nose, but I liked it. As one of the stage lights fell on us his pupils dilated, and I tried to take in every detail of his face that I could. It reminded me that this moment was real and that I’d always have this memory. I marvelled at the fact that I was still able to stand up straight because of how intensely my legs shook beneath me. I felt light-headed, almost to the point that I thought I would pass out. I chalked it all up to adrenaline and the two red bulls I drank before the show. I started to get lost in my reckless thoughts. I thought of how good his lips might feel on mine. Would he bury his fingers in my hair or keep them on my waist? On that note, how would his hands feel? Would they still feel soft despite the calluses he definitely had from years of playing bass? Would he mark my neck with hickies, or would he just leave my lips bruised and swollen? Would his moan sound just as sweet as his singing, or would it be dark and heavy? I cursed myself for being so reckless with my imagination.

Can ghosts pass out? I didn’t get time to think about that cause he somehow moved even closer to the mic, subsequently closer to my face. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be any closer to me without touching me; he was so close that I could see all the little freckles splattered across his face. I would never tell him this but I loved the freckles on his nose; they somehow made him look cute and hot at the same time. One day, I would love to trace all of them with my finger, count and memorize the placements of each freckle. I could also see all the little flecks of colour in his eyes, cascading out into a kaleidoscope of blue and green that made me weak in the knees. I, for the life of me, could never figure out what exact colour his eyes were. I’d contemplate if they were blue with a green overlay or vice versa, or maybe one flat colour with an undertone, but his eyes would always shift with the light, so I could never be sure. I would be content if the rest of my life (or afterlife I guess) was just dedicated to figuring out what colour his eyes were. We were on the last couple lines of the song, and I was still just staring at him, anchored to his eyes, eye contact unbreaking as if my life depended on it, which it kind of felt like my life did depend on it. I finished the last note of the song, and my eyes stayed glued to his for a minute before leaving to look at that crowd. I think the reason I stopped looking at him was because deep down I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing him if we kept staring at each other with this intensity .

We all quickly bowed to the crowd before we disappeared, earning a gasp of shock from the audience before they resumed clapping. We poofed into the side alley on the side of the building.

“We were amazing, guys!'' Reggie exclaimed and we all laughed at his excitement.

“How should we celebrate?” Alex questioned.

“We could go to that club a few blocks down, I heard it’s pretty cool,” Luke suggested, causing me to pale at that idea, don’t get me wrong I loved clubs and dancing but the last thing I wanted to do was watch Reggie drool over other girls.

“I think I’m going to head home guys. I’m tired and I don’t think I could do any more walking or even standing up,” I said.

“Are you sure? That’ll mean you don’t get to dance with me, the master of dance.” Alex jokingly nudged me in the ribs, but I could pick out a concerned lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. I’ll miss dancing with you so I’ll make an IOU.” I responded. The boys began to walk down the street as Alex told them that he’d catch up to them in a second. He turned to me and accusingly said “I know”.

“Know what?” I tried to play dumb but he saw right through it.

“Your crush on Reggie, obviously.” Alex placed a firm hand on his hip, tilting his head in a manner that told me he’d known long enough to have grown exasperated.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised I didn’t notice it earlier. I’m more surprised that only Julie seemed to catch on, Luke and Reggie really are oblivious.” We shared a giggle at that, and then I took a breath to collect myself before responding.

“You can’t tell anyone, Alex. I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”

“I won’t, but they can only be so oblivious for so long,” Alex said, and deep down, I knew there was truth to his words. “Especially if you keep looking at him like that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? It’ll be fun, plus I’ll miss your company,” he reiterated for the third time, and I decided that this time I would tell him the truth.

“Yeah no, I’d rather not be forced to watch Reggie flirt and dance with all those other girls, even if they can’t see him it still hurts to watch.”

Alex's face contorted to one of pity before he gave me a hug, lingering as he spoke softly. “Ok, I’ll see you when we get home.” Alex then turned, jogging to catch up with the boys.

Ughh, what was I going to do.

Tag list:

@unihedgehog22

#julie and the phantoms #reggie peters #reggie x y/n #reggie x reader #reggie peters wears a skirt and looks hot in it #reader insert #jatp fanfic #bi reggie

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thepancakeboi · 4 years ago

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38. “Wow, you’re hot.”

When we had learned that one of the games in Sae’s Palace was a battle arena, I never would have guessed that I wouldn’t be participating. Unfortunately, the rules state that only one person can participate, and, as much as I hate to admit it, Joker’s versatility with his Personas makes him the best candidate. I can’t reveal my secrets now, can I? It would certainly be interesting to see how far I could go massacring my opponents alongside my Persona. That will have to wait for another day.

Instead, I find myself among a cognitive crowd of people and the rest of the Phantom Thieves. The room encircles a central area that likely serves as the battleground for these three fights. I’ve distanced myself from the others, preferring to watch this fight alone. This is the best chance I am going to have to truly watch Joker fight without any distractions. I don’t need the Thieves’ prattling to get in my way.

The simulated crowd erupts into cheering. It’s obvious why. Joker waltzes into the arena like he owns the place. He’s playing the part up for all it’s worth.

“Now then, our gripping battle is finally here! The idiot leader of the adult-defying thieves has come!” an announcer’s voice calls out from over the loudspeakers. Oh, this commentary is going to be good. “Odds are 1.1 to the house, 23.0 to the Phantom Thieves! Wow, the Phantom Thieves are surprisingly popular! It’s rare to see odds in the double digits! Now, let us begin our serious one-on-one battle! Bring out the first contestant!”

The first opponent, or should I say, opponents, appear in the form of two human-sized bipedal elephants. These are the same as the one we fought to get a member’s card in the first place. Joker had called it Ganesha. “Uhhhh, what the hell!?” Skull yells loudly enough for even me to hear him. “There’s two of ‘em!”

Clearly, they weren’t planning on giving Joker a fair fight from the start. That’s not surprising. I had anticipated this happening. I just hope my faith in his skills isn’t misguided. You better not lose, Joker. I did bet a lot of coins on you.

“Now then, it’s time for this hellish trio of battles to begin!” the announcer continues. “Ready...”

Joker’s eyes unerringly find me in the crowd.

“Set...”

He grins, mouthing “watch this” before turning his attention back to the two Shadows he has to face.

“Go!”

The Ganeshas waste no time rushing at Joker, swords at the ready. He just...stands there, looking around the room. What is he thinking!?

He waits...and waits...

Only when they’re nearly on top of him does he take action. He spins in a clockwise rotation, a thin, nearly invisible line shooting away from his extended left hand and latching onto a beam on the ceiling. I recognize what he’s doing just as he’s lifted into the air by the grappling hook. The Ganeshas end up swiping at empty air, their inertia causing them to nearly trip over their own feet. Joker releases the grappling hook well before he reaches the ceiling, doing a couple of front flips as he lands. He’s already showing off an awful lot. That’s saying something when it comes to Joker, who constantly does a backflip before going into what the Phantom Thieves call an “All-Out Attack”. Not that I can say anything, considering I’ve taken to doing the same. Turning his head to look at me, Joker has the audacity to wave at me during this fight. Is he even taking this seriously?

One of the Ganeshas rushes recklessly again, likely hoping to catch Joker off-guard. It’s too bad that Joker sees it coming and backflips into the air, sailing high over its head. He cocks his gun mid-flip, firing bullet after bullet into the Shadow’s back. I can feel a murderous intent from the two Shadows. Joker deploys his grappling hook and flies clear out of the way of the other Shadow trying to avenge its injured comrade.

It’s impossible not to laugh at the pathetic Shadows stumbling around, making fools of themselves as they try to land a single hit. Using his trusty grappling hook and acrobatic skills, Joker moves all over the arena, confusing them tremendously. It’s almost a show. The thief flips and spins as he goes like he has to show off at every possible moment. I for one can’t take my eyes off him. His movements flow one into another, captivating the cognitive audience as well. These weaklings are no match for him. So why doesn’t he just finish them off quickly as he should? He’s wasting time.

As if hearing my thoughts, Joker’s hand reaches for his mask. Playtime’s over. He summons the paperlike Persona Shiki-Ouji. “Ravage them!” he yells as a myriad of pink and cyan blobs assault his opponents. The two Shadows collapse under the barrage, one of them being taken out by the attack. The other one struggles to get back up, but it’s no use. This Ganesha is as good as dead. Joker uses his grappling hook to swing around the Shadow, his dagger cleaving right through its neck. He lands right where the Shadow is as it explodes into black dust. Joker stands right in the middle of it, looking cool as ever.

I know that I’m staring right now. I don’t care. He made that fight look simple, and he looked good doing it. “Wow, you’re hot,” I whisper to myself, hoping the announcer’s derisive voice echoing through the room will drown out my musings.

Oracle walks up to me a few seconds later. Thank goodness I- “Mwehehe! I’m gonna tell him.”

“What-” I start to ask, only to realize she had heard me after all, despite my precautions. “No.”

“I’m gonna tell him,” she repeats with a mischievous grin.

“Please don’t tell him.” The last thing I need is for Joker to think I find him attractive. Granted, he is quite attractive, but that’s beside the point.

“He’ll find it cute after you guys were holding hands!”

“What are you talking about?” I can hear my voice pitch higher. There’s only one event she can be referencing, and if she saw that...god, I hate how worried I sound.

“In the House of Darkness!”

She had noticed after all. Joker had sensed my...unease upon first entering the maze and had grabbed my hand to calm me down. That was all it was. It meant nothing, even if he had continued to hold my hand through the entire thing except in the rare instances we had to crawl through the vents. Not that trying to convince Oracle of this will help. “Don’t tell him or else,” I say, trying to sound confident once again.

“You can’t stop me. If you try, I’ll tell everyone you’re so scared of the dark you held Ren’s hand!”

“Are you...blackmailing me?”

She laughs. “Maybe.”

“Damnit,” I hiss.

Seeing no way out of this predicament, I turn my attention back to the fight just as Joker slaughters three Rangdas all at once with a well-timed Makouga from Isis. They certainly didn’t last long. He laughs jovially as he remarks, “Now that’s comedy!” He sounds slightly surprised as if he himself hadn’t expected them to be destroyed so easily.

“Bullshit! Why the hell aren’t you dying, you goddamn Phantom Dweeb!?” the announcer yells, clearly annoyed that Joker simply refuses to lay down and die. Wait, when did the announcer start calling him a ‘Phantom Dweeb’? What even is a dweeb? Never mind; that’s not important. “I have a bet on this too! Grr, there’s no way in hell you’re getting away with this! Time for our final contestant!”

What an inane fool the announcer has to be to think the cocky, rebellious boy that is Joker is going to accept defeat. He’s been defying the odds stacked against him since April, and that isn’t changing now. He’ll keep fighting.

Even if the enemy that materializes in front of him is a hulking humanoid at least three times his size.

“Yowza... That’s a big one,” Oracle says in shock. At least Joker’s final foe takes her focus off of me. Hopefully, she’ll forget my little comment from earlier.

“Go, grind his bones to dust! Let the extreme third battle begin!”

Thor looks down at its foe. “Let’s get this over with,” the Shadow says. To it, Joker must look like a puny opponent. It’ll learn soon enough not to underestimate him.

Joker looks like he’s still chuckling despite his opponent’s size. He takes off his mask, but the Persona he summons isn’t Shiki-Ouji. “Magatsu-Izanagi Picaro!” he calls. Something about this Persona’s appearance feels...familiar, somehow. Perhaps...? “You need proper punishment.”

I raise an eyebrow because, even though he’s looking at Thor, the way he’s positioned makes it seem like he’s directing it at me instead. Does he not understand proper phrasing?

A black and red mandala appears on the floor right under Thor’s feet. The Shadow is surrounded by red symbols swirling faster and faster around it. The symbols are impossible to make out from this distance. Whitish-red streaks of light build up in intensity from all sides before a large beam shoots down on Thor in an explosion of energy. “What a powerful attack,” I remark idly to myself.

In a completely unnecessary move, Joker uses his grappling hook to move in my direction and away from Thor. The Shadow is preparing for an attack. He once again does nothing to stop the Shadow charging head-long at him. I soon see why. Shiki-Ouji suddenly materializes in front of Joker and grabs Thor mid-rush, holding the Shadow back before Joker commands his Persona to use Dormina.

Thor falls asleep almost immediately while standing up. It still amazes me how Shadows can be so dumb as to fall asleep in the middle of a fight. I nearly start as Joker walks right up to me and leans against the glass separating the two of us. “Hi, Akeppi.”

“What are you doing, Joker?” I respond.

“Nothing yet.” He hums in thought. Like the shameless flirt he is, he asks, “Enjoying the show?”

“Perhaps you should save your questions until after the battle is won. You’ll have plenty of time to ask for my opinion later.”

“Fine,” he says, whining a little as he turns around. Just in time too, for Thor is starting to stir from its forced slumber. He casually takes his mask off, resummoning Shiki-Ouji to attack with Mapsi before his opponent fully wakes up. It doesn’t bring Thor down as it did previously with the Ganeshas, but it still must have hurt. Just as it gains lucidity, Joker has Shiki-Ouji use Dormina again. He doesn’t waste time talking to me again. Instead, a bunch of circular pink, yellow, and cyan beams surround Thor before striking all at once and send the Shadow reeling onto the ground. With a cocky grin on his face, he uses Psio again for good measure.

“Yeah, keep smiling, buddy,” Thor growls as it pushes itself to its feet. It swipes its electrified hammer at Joker, who deftly backflips away. However, the electricity shoots forward and hits him head-on.

Joker, you fucking idiot. Sure, other than looking a little disheveled, he’s no worse for wear. He’ll be okay, but he shouldn’t have let such an obvious attack hit him.

Something inside Joker seems to snap. The glare on his face is fiercer than I’ve ever seen from him. He looks utterly enraged...and somehow even hotter at the same time. His Persona disappears, but even with the mask, I can sense the fiery rage in his eyes. Pulling out his gun, he jumps to his right, twirling in mid-air as he shoots a couple of bullets. He somersaults as gravity brings him back to the ground. However, he isn’t done. He leaps straight into the air from his crouched position. It’s almost impossible to perceive what happens, but he seems to combine the twist from earlier with a front flip, followed by another spin in the air as he proceeds to fire bullet after bullet in mid-air while upside down. He uses his feet and left hand to take the brunt of his fall. Thor collapses to its knees shortly after, the continuous gunfire too much for it to handle.

Joker stands up and looks contemplatively at his left hand. Is he seriously thinking of using the grappling hook now? With a shrug, he looks back at Thor and does a running leap into the air. He performs a couple of front flips before his momentum brings him to Thor’s head. With a level of dexterity only Joker could pull off, he straddles Thor from below, his legs wrapped around the Shadow’s neck. His left hand grabs a hold of one of the horns on Thor’s helmet while he points the gun right at Thor’s face. “You’re done!” Joker yells as he shoots at point-blank range.

The Shadow crumbles into black dust, but not before Joker pushes himself off its body, twirling in the air and backflipping so he lands crouched on the ground facing me. He grins as he hops to his feet, pirouetting before he poses, right arm outstretched and left hand resting on his chest.

I blink, startled. I know exactly where that maneuver came from. I’ve done that exact same thing once or twice in those All-Out Attacks. How did he manage to figure out how to copy it so quickly...?

The announcer groans in disappointment, having no comment on the fact that Joker just won their rigged game in style. I can’t help but grin as I give my own snide remark.

“Once again, justice prevails.”

Prompt list

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skybird13 · 5 years ago

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MORE FG Analysis....(I think I might have a problem)

I keep rewatching and rewatching the Clover and Qrow scenes we have so far and trying to see the bromance thing or the platonic buddies thing and I just... can’t?

Look, I don’t run around with shipping goggles on if that means anything to anyone. I got through the entirety of The Lord of the Rings and the first two Hobbit movies without shipping a single couple (Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage punched me in the heart in the third Hobbit film, but that’s another tangent for another time). I wasn’t even fully on Bumblby until volume 4.

There’s just no other way to view these scenes. Things keep escalating between these two. I don’t really have a good scale for measuring romantic/sexual tension, so I’ll just try to pinpoint the moments in which things tick up a notch or two. Starting with...

The Mine Scene

The baseline here is the casual conversation that Qrow initiates. From there, here are the beats:

Conversation turns personal very quickly, thanks to Qrow opening up

Clover catches Qrow

They engage the Grimm

Qrow warns Clover

Qrow shares his semblance (again... Qrow is the one to get personal, which I find extremely telling)

Clover shares his semblance (and puts Qrow at ease)

Clover flirts (look, I’m trying to be as objective atm as possible, but the wink, the smile, the eyebrow wiggle, the full-body lean, and the lingering stare as he turns around... I’m sorry, there’s no other word for that. I challenge anyone of you to replace Qrow with a woman, show it to someone who doesn’t watch RWBY, ask what the tone of this still-shot is, and find me a single person who will tell you it’s not romantically charged. I dare you.)

Qrow stares back (this is absolutely from a myriad of emotions running through him and I will not discount that, but can we all at least admit that he seems to come out of this shock in a pretty okay place?)

They reach the main cavern and... more flirting/showing off from Clover. (The toss, the smirk, the salute, and the fancy-ass backflip which, considering he hooks Kingfisher to the ceiling and goes zipping upwards directly after this (thank you @fairgame-is-endgame) was completely unnecessary.)

The joke! How did I miss this?? Qrow doesn’t joke about their semblances for the first time at Schnee manor. He does it here! (Sorry, I couldn’t get the dialogue in there with Qrow’s eyes open.)

Clover counters with: “Hmm. No. I’d chalk that one up to talent.” (Already highlighting the difference between their attitudes regarding their semblances. For Qrow, everything bad that happens is his fault. For Clover, semblance isn’t everything. A very healthy person for Qrow to be around, no?)

The Truck Scene

Now we shift to the truck scene. Again, trying to pinpoint the beats where the romantic tension clicks up or something significant happens:

Clover initiates conversation. (Apparently, him mentioning Ruby is enough to put people on edge, but might I point out a few things? (Jesus lord, this is turning into another essay.) He brings up Ruby as “[Qrow’s] niece”, first of all. And that’s it. You know where he shifts the focus from there? On to Qrow. This is Clover’s next line in this exchange: “It’s a good thing they had someone to look up to and get them through it. Not everyone is so lucky.” Real nefarious there, guys. Way to have Master Spy Clover probe for info. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Clover is absolutely probing here but it’s for another reason entirely.)

Qrow shifts from being closed off and a little taciturn to making sure the conversation doesn’t drop. (He thanks Clover in case anyone wants me to be specific about that).

Qrow gets personal. Again. He opens up about being an alcoholic.

And the peak of this scene? Clover calls Qrow on his self-deprecating habits and tries to offer him something solid and good to hold on to. Which I and others have written about ad nauseum, to the point where repeating myself is getting annoying, so have some visual aids instead:

James’s Office

Non-verbal communication. Here, surrounded by people that both Clover and Qrow know better than they know each other at this point, and their first instinct in this moment is still to seek each other out. Enough said.

Schnee Manor

The second inside joke between them about their semblances.

Qrow flirts openly. Similar to Clover’s “You’ve had more of an effect on them than you realize” line delivery here, Qrow’s “I mean, they already invited you, didn’t they?” carries a very specific and multilayered tone. He’s playful, he’s open, he’s relaxed, he’s enjoying himself, and yes, the man is flirting. It’s in the voice, it’s in the smile, it’s in the body language. And it is absolutely in the lingering stare as Clover walks through the door (a mirror of Clover’s lingering stare in the mines, btw).

Final thoughts/speculation

Does anyone want them? You’re gonna get ‘em.

I think the fact that Qrow is the one who gets personal when he has every damn reason right now to be guarded is ridiculously significant. In the last two volumes before this, his sister tried to have him murdered, a long-trusted colleague (Lionheart) turned out to be a traitor, and Oz was revealed to be a massive liar (I love Oz, I really do, but the man screwed up). Qrow has no reason to drop his walls for just anyone so you know what this tells me? He’s interested in Clover from the beginning. Qrow’s early-stage flirting style isn’t to wink and show-off (at least not anymore), it’s to lower his guard and see how the other person responds. I think he’s gotten to the point of “if you can’t deal with my ugly shit, you won’t be getting the rest of me either”. Qrow Branwen is doing a little probing of his own and, in light of this, you could make the argument that he’s the one to open the door for their relationship to happen.

Clover’s early-stage flirting style, on the other hand, is very overt. He’s more guarded about himself personally (notice how he keeps the focus on Qrow quite a bit and even does a bit of deflecting of his own in the truck scene) but he is perfectly comfortable with making his interest known in a very straightforward and physical manner.

There are reasons for this!! Reasons deeply intertwined with character and who these men are.

Qrow sees himself as the eternal monkey wrench that no one wants. He’s finally starting to recover from this viewpoint, I think, but he’s also very aware that no matter how healthy he might get, he is always going to come with a little... extra. He has his semblance, he has his depression, and he has his alcoholism. He’s tired of secrets and he’s tired of games, and if he’s going to get involved with someone, they sure as hell better be ready to deal with all of that, because it’s not going anywhere. The solution? Put it all out there and see how the person responds. He gets the wrong response, he’s going to shut that down and move on. The right response?? He’s going to keep moving forward to see where it goes. Clover is giving him all the right responses.

As for Clover, he’s not only military but he’s also the leader of the elite Ace Ops and the man with the good-luck semblance. I know we don’t have a lot on him, but I suspect that the pressures of all that get to him quite a lot, to the point where he has major trouble being personally vulnerable for anyone. He’s probably used to having to keep it together at all times, to presenting that tightly controlled professionalism he displays with Robyn and even with Jacques Schnee to a degree. He’s used to everyone else relying on him, including James. This means that even in the presence of mutual interest, he’s going to flirt in ways that are emotionally safe, at least at first.

The balance inherent in this is so unbelievably beautiful. And, I’m starting to realize, a complete subversion of early expectations.

Qrow isn’t the one who has to learn to open up. He’s already doing that. What he will have to do is learn to accept someone (outside of his nieces) loving him without strings attached. He’ll have to learn to trust that Clover (and by extension their relationship) isn’t going anywhere, even if/when things get bad. Clover can be the one who stays.

Clover, on the other hand, is the one who is going to have to learn to open up. He’s going to have to learn how to return that emotional vulnerability that Qrow has already given him, and he’s going to have to learn that Qrow can be the safe place where all that confidence and self-control can finally drop. Clover might have to be the unshakeable support structure for everyone else in his life, but Qrow can be the one place where he can lean and just breathe.

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #fairgame #lucky charms #luckbirds #qrover #rwby #rwby7 #if this doesn't happen it will be the missed opportunity of the millineum #let me tell you what #another essay #i can't help myself #i start with one thought and my brain tosses out fifty more that are relevant #probably the analysis i'm most proud of so far

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florence-wayne-official · 4 years ago

Text

OKAY, FINE, I GUESS ITS MY TURN TO BE SAPPY

This is the one time I’m being nice, don’t expect it to last.

Dad:

You took me in after my mom abandoned me, so that’s pretty nice. You taught me how to defend myself and in general taught me how to be the bad bitch I am today. You got my art career started and I’ll forever be thankful for that. I love you dad!

Alfred:

Alfred, you’re like my grandpa figure, and you’re the one that taught me how to cook and bake. I would die for you, even though I know you’re gonna say you’d never let that happen. I still wake up early every morning for tea and coffee with you, and it’s some of the best times of the day. Thank you for making me the person I am and taking care of me when dad was out. I love you so much Alfred!

Dickie:

You’re my first older sibling and yea you bend like an overcooked noodle, but you’re the one that taught me how to land a backflip and taught me to not murder someone at school. You’re also the only one that keeps me out of trouble and you’re a great big bro! :) I got to see your first Robin outfit which was absolutely hilarious, mind you, but I still love you, even though you had that weird disco phase.

Babs:

Yesss, the first Batgirl! You’re so badass, even after the Joker paralyzed you, which I will murder him for, by the way. We need to meet up and chill one day! (You’re also helping me pass my classes at college, thank you so much for that). Even when you were dating Dick, it wasn’t real,y that awkward, and you’re like a big sister to me. Love you!

Thea Bea (ignore the stupid nickname I’m never letting it die) :

Ah, the Nightingale to my Florence. You’re my first little sibling and yea, I treat you like a baby sometimes, but it’s because I thought you would break if I was too rough because you just lost your real parents. We got along really well because you’re still my age and you were the only other girl in the bouse. We taught each other how to do makeup, and how to properly tie Dick to the chandelier by his feet, it’s great. Love you baby sis!

Jaybird:

I was in the Batmobile when you tried to steal it’s tires, and it was pretty funny. You taught me how to throw knives and kick baddies in the balls untilthey bled, and when you died it hit HARD. I missed you so much and I didn’t stop trying t find your body, even when everyone else did. And sure, when you came back I socked you in the jaw, but still. I’m so glad you’re in my life and I can’t wait for the day we kill the Joker!

Timber:

Yea, that name is never going to die. You’re the best hacker I’ve ever fucking met, and you need to stop hacking into my room’s lights and turning on disco mode and rickrolling me, but I still love you. (I’ll get back at you for that, though). I’m glad you’re getting Wayne Industries because I sure as hell didn’t want to be CEO. You’re smart and funny, and honestly, probably the only one who’s beat my Flappy Bird score. But, Tim, for the love of everything, GO TO SLEEP.

Steph:

Your time as Robin was weird as fuck, but honestly making glitter bombs with you was totally worth it. I love the girl dates you, me, and Thea have at Waffle House, and game night is always fun with you around. Me and Thea were so excited to have another girl in the house, and you just lighten up the whole room. We pranked dad that one time with glitter and disco lights, and it was the funniest thing in the world.

Casafrass:

Oh you badass QUEEN. I had to learn ASL when you came to the Manor, but you keep me sane around this insane household. I love you to bits, and your dancing is absolutely gorgeous. I’ve never gotten into ballet, but you make it look so easy and graceful, but also like you could murder a man with just a toe, and I have literally so much respect for you. I’ll be honest, I was pretty hesitant about dad adopting you, but now I’m so glad he did.

Demon baby:

Dami, when you first came to the manor, you were filled with murderous rage and hated me with a burning passion. You literally tried to kill me in my sleep, and tried to poison my monster energy. Now, here you are, buyin me monster and waking up in my bed every morning with your million pets. You’re always going to be my baby brother and I love you so, so much.

Harper:

Fellow arsonist, you literally are THE baddest bitch, and I’ll hype you up to the ends of the earth. You’re the only one that appreciates my music taste in the Manor and you might be newer to the family, but you’re still my sister and I love you so much. We need to finish that bazooka we’re making for a project ;).

Duke:

Welcome to the family Dukey! You’re the newest to the fam but I still think of you as part of the family. You’re the sanest person in the house other than Alfred, so it’s funny when you prank dad because he never suspects it’s you. It’s also super cool to have a meta in the house, we need to find out the extent of what you can do one day because it’s sick as fuck. Like I said, welcome to the fam!

#batsis #batfam oc #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #tim drake

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Note

“ I read your diary. ” or rather journal, when he was sleeping or while he was taking a bath in a secluded area and left his satchel wide open for grabs.

This one’s so damn fluffy, I’m gonna die! It’s also one of those ones that easily could lead to a really smutty scene, but maybe I’ll leave that for another time 👀

Read all my works on AO3

(Maybe if I’m bored enough and actually have some damn time, I’ll make a masterlist on Tumblr)

Flat Iron Lake gleams orange and blue in the midday sun, flies collecting in swarms hover above the water, begging to be eaten by a hungry fish. You stand on the pier, pole in your hand, hoping to fool one of those fish to take your lure instead of a real insect. So far, you’re having good luck, despite the hot sun above. You know from experience that fishing at any time other than dawn and dusk is spotty, but the fish around this area of the lake seem to always be biting, which is lucky. It saves everyone from having to go far to get meat.

You love fishing, always have. You’re not the biggest fan of the taste of fish, though you will eat it. You enjoy the act of catching them, though. Fishing forces time to slow down, allows you to just sit and enjoy the peace and quiet, and then there’s the chance that something exciting will happen. Not only that, but the scenery is beautiful.

As you stand, waiting for something to grab your lure, you hear footsteps on the shore. You turn and see Arthur, his hands on his hips. He smiles at you a bit, but doesn’t say anything. You return it and then go back to watching your bait, feeling a bit self conscious. Although you’re the newest member of the gang, having only been with them a couple of months, you’ve quickly grown fond of Arthur. You like most people in camp (aside from Micah), but Arthur was the one you took to. He’s handsome, smart (though he denies it), funny, loyal and sweet. He thinks he’s nothing more than a big dumb brute capable of nothing but violence, but you’ve seen the side of him that proves him wrong. You saw him give Tilly a necklace a few days ago, he got a book for Jack, and you’ve seen him playing fetch with the newest member, a dog named Cain. You’ve also seen him many times sitting on his cot or at the base of a tree, scribbling away in his journal.

You’ve wondered many times if Arthur feels anything for you too, but you’re too nervous to ask. You won’t ask the others if he’s mentioned you at all, afraid it’ll clue them in to your crush. You wish, more than anything, that you could get a glimpse in his journal.

You glance behind you again and spot Arthur sitting at the base of a tree not too far from the pier. His journal’s in his lap and he seems to be writing, or maybe he’s drawing. You wonder if he’s any good. You’ve tried your own hand at drawing with little success. You can barely draw a stick figure.

You go back to fishing, wishing you could at least gather the courage to go and talk to him. You’ve wanted nothing more than to do that. He helped teach you how to shoot a gun after you first joined, and how to shoot a bow. It was through him that you learned how to hunt and fish, and you overheard him a few days ago talking to Dutch about teaching you how to rob people. You just wish you could talk to him about anything that didn’t involve you learning how to pull your weight in the gang. It’s doubtful that he has any interest in you though, even in an innocent, friendly manner. You sigh, wishing things were different.

An hour passes and you decide you’re done fishing. You have a decent collection of fish to give to Pearson, he’ll be happy at least. You collapse your pole and begin walking down the pier when you see Arthur, still sat at the foot of the tree, his hat tipped over his eyes. He seems to be sleeping, but next to him is his journal, lying open and just begging to be read.

You approach him quietly. You really shouldn’t be trying to read his journal, it’d be an invasion of his privacy. Still, you can’t help but be curious. You get a bit closer, waiting for him to stir, but he doesn’t. You quietly set down your bucket of fish and kneel down, picking up his journal. You check on him again, but he still hasn’t moved. You can tell by his slow, heavy breathing that he’s out.

The first thing you see when looking at the open page of his journal is a sketch. Undeniably, it’s you, fishing on the pier. The sketch extends across both pages. The drawing is beautiful, simple yet detailed. You had no idea he could draw this well. You flip to the previous page and see sketches of a horse (undeniably his own), a husky and a duck. The duck is really no more than an outline, but it’s endearing. The husky is incredibly detailed, its tongue dangling from its panting mouth. You love the detail of the fur, you can tell exactly what color it is based purely on how he’s shaded it. You flip to the next previous page and are startled by an extremely detailed drawing of your face. On the page next to it is a passage he’s written. You study the beautiful, looping words. His writing is gorgeous. You begin to read it.

“Took Y/N out hunting today. She’s got a natural talent for it, considering she’s only been doing it a few months. If only things were simpler, life wasn’t such a mess, I might ask her to be my girl. Yet damn you, Mary! Y/N ain’t nothing like Mary. She’s sweet, she don’t hold people’s past over their heads or play games with ‘em. When I’m alone with her, I feel like the luckiest man and the biggest fool. If she’s smart, she’ll stay away from me.”

Your stomach does a backflip. Has he really thought about asking you to be his girlfriend? No way, no way could Arthur, the Arthur Morgan, be interested in you! You’re just a simple girl who grew up on a farm until a few months back when it was burned to the ground, killing everyone inside. You were in the barn when it got destroyed by a group of drunk O’Driscolls. It was only a couple weeks after that you were brought in by Arthur, who found you begging on the trail in the middle of nowhere.

You flip through more of his journal, reading about how he hopes never to get on Sadie Adler’s bad side (you agree with him), how he detests doing jobs for Strauss. You’re glad he never went to collect that debt from that Downes fellow a few weeks ago. You’d heard rumors he was incredibly sick and you passed that information onto Arthur, who decided it wasn’t worth the risk and just absolved the debt. Still though, he’s doing a few other collections.

You go on to read about some of the people he’s met, including a blind man who seemed almost like a prophet, a photographer who seemed to be trying to get himself eaten by some wild animal, and a crazy woman touting about dinosaurs. So many of these entries are accompanied with drawing, each one detailed to the point you feel you could touch them.

Every few pages, he seems to mention you, whether it’s just taking you out somewhere to teach you a new skill, or about how you’ve surprised him with one of your own visions of the world. One in particular stands out to you. It’s accompanied by a sketch of you just standing there, drinking a mug of coffee. The passage itself started off with him talking about one of his debt collections from a woman named Lily Millet.

“This world is an ugly one, I see it everyday. I see it in the things I do to people, the way they look at me. But Y/N seems to see the beauty of it. Whenever I’m with her, she sees light and color where I would see only violence and horror. The more I’m with her, the more I see the beauty too. If I were smarter, I’d spare her the misfortune of my own company, yet I find hers euphoric. If I weren’t such a coward, I’d ask her on a proper outing. John keeps saying she’s sweet on me, but Marston wouldn’t know the first thing about women. How the hell he ended up having a kid with Abigail is beyond me.”

You giggle at the last line and then your heart drops when you hear Arthur begin to stir. You quickly flip to the page it was on and throw it on the ground. Unfortunately, it lands a solid foot from where you picked it up and in a different position. You just hope he doesn’t remember those details as you stand up and take several feet back.

He tilts his hat up, notices you trying to walk away in such a manner that screams you’re guilty of something. He looks down at his journal and notices right away that it’s been moved. He connects your guilty smile and knows instantly that you at least looked at the sketch. Before he can say anything to you, you dart off into the middle of camp to give your fish to Pearson and where he won’t confront you.

During the rest of the day, you find any excuse you can to stay away from Arthur, positive he’s furious that you invaded his privacy like that. You’d be mad had it been you, and you’re sure he’d like nothing more than to tell you off. However, you often catch him staring at you, but not in anger or disappointment. His eyes say he’s curious, and he doesn’t seem to be pursuing you to get you alone, though he does try to approach you often. You always come up with an excuse or pick up a conversation with the closest person so he can’t confront you.

After the sun’s set, your luck runs out. Arthur left a few hours ago and you figured he’d be gone the rest of the night. You decided it was safe to go stand at the shores of the lake and look at the stars. You didn’t even hear him approach until he was standing right next to you, a beer bottle in each hand.

“So,” he said, making you jump. You flushed when you saw him standing so close to you, but then he handed you one of the bottles. You thanked him quietly and looked away. You didn’t see the soft smile he wore. “Enjoy readin’ my journal?” he asks, sipping his beer as he stares off across the lake.

You sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. It was wrong of me. I understand why you’re upset.”

He chuckles softly. “Ah, it’s a’right. I ain’t exactly innocent in that myself. Guess I earned it, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubs his neck nervously. “I, uh, I read your diary too once. It was on your bedroll and I guess Grimshaw snatched you up while you was writin’. I was just passin’ by and saw it, couldn’t help myself.”

You blush even more. Shit, shit shit! You wrote in there shortly after getting the damn thing that you have a massive crush on Arthur, it’s pretty much a guarantee that he saw it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Morgan,” you say, closing your eyes.

“For what?” he says, shocked.

“That you had to read that. I’m… I’m such an idiot and I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanted to know about me. I completely understand if you don’t want to teach me anything else.”

He turns to face you. He nervously reaches up a hand to tilt your head up to look at him. “Y/N, I know you read my journal. Pretty far back too, I’d guess. If you actually read it, you’d know I’ve… well, I’ve held somethin’ for you too.”

You smile and take his hand into yours. “I don’t know why you would. I’m nothin’ special.”

“Maybe you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

You look up at him again. His face is inches from yours and his eyes dart down to your lips before going back to your eyes again. Is he thinking the same as you? Right now, you’d like nothing more than to kiss him. You start leaning up, you can feel the heat radiating from him. He moves closer, his free hand sliding over your back. Your lips are centimeters from touching.

“Mr. Morgan, we are in the shit again. Deep in the shit!” the gravelly voice of Reverend Swanson washes over you again. He stumbles over, his eyes bloodshot. Arthur leans away and lets you go, making you let out a soft groan.

“You got quite a way with words there, Mr. Swanson,” Arthur replies.

“Words are the least of my problems, Mr. Morgan.” He stammers for a moment, almost as though he’s seeing something you can’t. His eyes refocus on you both standing inches apart, looking irritated. “But I wanted you both to know that you are children of God! Children of God.” He starts mumbling to himself, almost singing.

You chuckle. “That’s sweet, Reverend, but I stopped believing in God a long time ago.”

“But he has never stopped believing in you,” Swanson says, then he stumbles off.

Arthur lets out a long sigh and hangs his head so his hat covers his eyes. His cheeks are slightly pink. “Sorry for that interruption, Y/N.”

“That’s okay, ain’t like we could stop him,” you say. You want to ask him to try that kiss again, but you just can’t manage to get the words out. He’s thinking the same thing, but like you, he’s too embarrassed to ask. Instead, his hand slowly wraps around yours. You look down at your entwined hands and then back up to him and smile. Encouraged by this, he lets your hand go and both of his slide over your back, pulling you close to him. Yours go up to settle on his shoulders.

Before anyone else has the chance to ruin the moment again, Arthur dips down and presses his lips to yours. His are slightly chapped, but they’re warm. You’ve only imagined kissing him a hundred times, but you didn’t ever do him justice in those daydreams. You move your lips with his, your hand winding behind his neck to pull him even closer. His arms grip you tight, pressing your body against his. Your heart’s pounding in your chest. Something in your chest purrs as he deepens the kiss. Oh, how you’ve wanted this, wanted him. All those moments you spent alone with him, you wanted to kiss him exactly like this.

After several moments of you studying his lips, he breaks it, his breath leaving in quick bursts. He smiles at you and cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheek bone.

“I hope that was okay,” he says softly.

“More than okay,” you say and you kiss him again. This one is short and brief, but just as sweet as the previous. You lay your head on his shoulder, your forehead pressed against his neck. His arms embrace you protectively and his heart hammers into your ear. You stare off across the silvery waters of the lake, content in this moment. You want it never to end.

There’s no way you could know that Arthur, for the first time in a long time, finally thinks he may actually be a somewhat decent man if someone as sweet and good as you chooses to nestle in his arms like this. He kisses the top of your head, wishing he could tell you how grateful and how in awe he is. Perhaps he’ll have to write it in his journal and leave it somewhere that you’ll find it again.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #awkward asks

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5-secondsofcolor · 4 years ago

Text

Te Guardo || A.I.

Warnings: None? a bit of odd angst? This is unedited so tenses are funky

Length: 2K

Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” & Ashton x Airport

AN: This is a part of @h0tsos and @maluminspace second fic event. Thank you so much for organizing this again!! I’ve linked the event masterlist below if anyone wants to go check out other folk’s work.

EVENT MASTERLIST

_____

Ashton shuffles through his glove compartment of his car, he should’ve registered the car months ago when he first moved to LA but lies of ‘next week’ let him go on far too long. Now he slowly pulls out old ticket stubs and memories of nights passed, looking for his title and registration in the parking lot of the DMV.

He pauses when he finds himself gripping a smooth plastic paper, pulling out square Polaroid. All of them tossed in there unceremoniously after his moving away party. By the look of the pictures, it’s clear they’ve survived a few seasons, fading in the time spent in his glove compartment.

A smile breaks out as he plucks one out and tucks it into his wallet before he continues to pull out crap. Finally, a piece of pink paper peaks out, a sigh of relief coming alongside it as he joins the appointment line.

After an eternity, he gets to the attendant, the woman doesn’t look up from the last form on her desk before asking “What’s the reason for your appointment?”

“Registering a vehicle”

“Can I see your license and registration?”

He pulls out his wallet, as the attendant finally looks up at him giving him an irate look for not being fully prepared, he returns an apologetic smile as the top of his ears warm. Shuffling through the wallet for his license produces the polaroid first, he tucks it back down and grabs his license.

“Here it is,” he announces as he hands it over, the attendant giving him no response. A couple of moments later, the woman hands back his forms alongside a small ticket with ‘B36’ stamped across the top.

“Take a seat and wait for your number to be called,” The attendant says excusing him to the waiting area.

With little else to do, he pulls the polaroid out and allows his mind to remember the night it was taken. Vanessa had done her makeup in the way that made her brown eyes pop, the bright colors complementing her brown skin. He always liked the way her highlighter made her look so golden. The darkness of her hair blends slightly into the dark background but he remembers her soft natural curls and the way they always smell like coconut oil and soft flowers.

They’ve spoken since he moved but it held an awkwardness and it’s all his fault. Truly, he’s replayed that night over and over so much so that he wonders if he’s remembering it right. It was nothing but a moment stolen but it put them on a different path.

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met,” Ashton said as he cupped Vanessa’s cheek.

In the poorly lit backyard, it all felt rushed, childish for Ashton to use their only moment’s alone all night to make half declarations of love but it’s what it boiled down to as the timer on Ashton’s big move nearly hit 0.

Her breath caught in her lungs as he pressed his lips to hers. She tried to commit it to memory, feeling it was the start of something. The way string lights gave everything a warm light, the chatter pouring out of his— well now Luke’s apartment, the way was just cold enough for goosebumps to raise on her skin, and the softness of his lips. Instead what’s committed to memory is the sadness, the reality that he was driving away in 2 days.

“Ashton! Andrew’s looking for you,” Luke’s booming voice breaks the moment before she has a chance to acknowledge what happened.

“I’ll be right in. I’m just going to walk Vanessa to her car,” His attempt to shoo away Luke is useless, Luke’s too drunk to realize what he’s walked into. Instead running out and wrapping an arm around Ashton’s neck. “Can’t believe he’s all grown up. Leaving us for LA. Can you believe it?”

“Don’t worry about walking me, my car’s just a house over. I’ll just text you when I get home, promise.”

“Please,” it sounds like a plea as Luke turns him around, shouting about one thing or another as they rejoin the last party, leaving Vannesa with a blank mind and absolutely too much to process.

She pulls into her driveway quickly. Surreal feelings hitting her as she sits in her car a moment after turning it off. That couldn’t have really happened, she shakes her head as she collects her things. Habitually pulling up Ashton’s contact as she turns on her living room light. Her mind still blank as she opens their conversation.

After a moment, she presses on Calum’s contact and quickly types, “Home safe! Let Ash know please.” and tosses her phone on the couch.

Ashton waited for that text message. Holding on to the promise made in passing, he got her message from Calum but nonetheless, he called her, wanting to hear anything from her but got her voicemail and waited for her to call him back.

____

After a dinner with, Vanessa finds herself down the street from her apartment at a little brewery. It’s the one that always reminded her of Ashton. Countless afternoons spent meeting up. He used to make these walks down the streets with her on lazy afternoons.

Her friend’s saved a booth, as is Friday tradition. Except today, an acquaintance won’t stop chatting her up. He’s cute, kinda interesting, she knows he’s a good guy, Cameron, their mutual friend, won’t stop talking him up.

Talked up or not, Vanessa can’t remember his name as she nods and gives a polite chuckle when a change in cadence indicates a joke. It also doesn’t stop her from glancing at her phone the moment it vibrates. “A. Irwin” it reads with a familiar contact picture popping up.

She all but jumps out of her skin the second she sees the name. Grabbing a jacket and excusing herself, “I’m sorry. I need to take this.”

The brisk fall air hits hard after her being inside the warm bar. She nestles her phone between her shoulder and ear as she wrestles her jacket on, breathless she gives a small, “hi.”

“You busy?”

“No, no not at all,” she says. Only half a lie she thinks as she turns around and gives her confused friends a reassuring thumbs up and smile, “What’s up?”

“Not much, just heading to bed and I was hanging with Calum, he did the you thing for the first time in a while,” Only kind of a lie, he thinks to himself as he eye’s their polaroid now balanced in the corner of a larger frame. He couldn’t force himself to toss it into another drawer to get lost with time, the same way he couldn’t ignore the way he felt all day.

They’ve texted for months, catching up at odd times but the overwhelming feeling to hear her voice pushed him to call her after the day at the DMV.

“The me thing?” She laughs, forcing him to elaborate just which odd habit he is referring to.

“The fidgeting thing-- bouncing on your heels.”

“I don’t do that,” She argues, planting both her feet firmly on the ground.

“It’s not exactly the same but you gotta admit it’s pretty similar,” Ashton argues, he can picture her doing it now, holding her phone to her ear.

“Whatever,” She breathes a laugh through her nose and with that Ashton can see the accompanying head shake. He tries to find an excuse to keep her on the line. Does he bring up the Polaroid? Does she remember that day the same? Did he make their afternoon melancholy up for himself, in search of an odd comfort?

“I’m gonna need some proof here, Ash.”

“Fine I’ll go get it myself.” Her scoff in response only eggs him on as he promises, “I’ll get a ticket back there right now.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Give me a few weeks. I’ll get the evidence myself.”

“Ok. You can show me,” a wave from indoors catches her eye, her friend beckoning her back inside to collect her things, “I gotta go Ash. It was great talking.”

“Yeah it was. We’ll speak soon, yeah? I’m serious I’ll come up there and show you.”

“Whenever you book that ticket, don’t forget a sweater. It sure as hell isn’t California warm here,” She jokes one final time before hanging up.

She can’t help the smile when she gets a screenshot of his flight. Almost two weeks to the day. Friday, November 15th.

___

Two weeks fly, Vanessa thinks before she rushes out of work. So much for making it on time. Maybe the flight is delayed, just allow her a little buffer. It doesn’t feel real to be picking him up. Excitement and anxiety is all she can feel as she dumps her work supplies onto the passenger seat and hits the road.

A bit of relief hits her as she sees the sign at the gate. Two minutes to spare, she laughs at herself as she pauses at the loading zone. She spent an afternoon cleaning her apartment, forgetting her car but it’s too late now.

“Is this my Uber?” The voice is all too familiar, her heart skipping a beat as she looks over to the passenger window. His skin tanner than she remembers but the smile, it’s always stayed the same. She opens her door with a shriek, running around the car, and into his arms.

“Ashton!!!” She shouts into her chest. Her heart beating so hard he can probably feel it himself.

“Hi,” he breaths her in planting a small kiss to the top of her head. She feels smaller than he remembers but then again maybe that’s just a sign that too much time has elapsed.

“Welcome back,” She laughs. Unable to shake the smile on her face as she bypasses the city and begins their drive to her apartment.

He stares openly, unable to believe how much more he’d missed her. In the car, things feel simplified. She doesn’t face his stare until they’re at a stoplight.

“What?” She gives him a true smile, showing her teeth and he knows he booked the right ticket to visit her.

“Nothing. This place has been good to you,” He’s unsure what it is but she’s different.

“I think you’re just falling for the look of a real autumn,” She brushes aside her compliment as her eyes return to the road. Her stomach does a backflip as she ignores his eyes.

A feeling of regret rears its head as she’s tempted to reach out and hold his hand. Her brain is all shaken up as she tries to focus on the tales from LA. Traffic is and she’s grateful for it.

They get back to her apartment right before sundown, her entire apartment illuminated by the lazy afternoon sun. Ashton’s been here a thousand times but with his time away, its familiar feel isn’t fully there. As his eyes sweep her living room, he sees that the same milk crates hold her records but the tables above it are now natural wood, matching the rest of her furniture. Her apartment looks more streamlined from its previous Craig’s List used furniture charm.

“You can put your stuff on the chair,” She points to a corner of the room, it’s apparent the chair’s been cleared of her own pile of miscellaneous clothes in preparation for him to visit. The entire living room gave a feeling of a deliberate organization that it never gave him before.

Ashton tosses the duffle bag onto the chair and pauses at the same bookshelf from years ago, he recognizes some of the book titles and peruses the new ones before a new picture frame catches his eye. He holds his breath recognizing it as nearly the same picture he’s been carrying in his glove compartment for months. The pair to the one that now lives on his mantle at home.

He knows he can’t toe the line with her anymore, the unknowing drowning him this time around as he gently calls, “Nessa?”

#5sos fan fic #ashton irwin fan fiction #5sos #my-writing #ashton fan fic #ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #5sos writinf collab

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galahadwilder · 5 years ago

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2 sentence ask meme- "Stop struggling Princess, I won't let anything happen to you," the Akumatized Cat reassured. "I just need your here to help me convince Ladybug to had over her Miraculous."

Save Me From Myself, Ch. 1

Save Me Archive

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Chat Noir had always been good at communicating through subtext; apparently so was Chat Blanc. Those two sentences told Marinette a number of very important things.

First: Akumatized or not, it was Noir, not Blanc, that was in control. She relaxed into his trembling grip, into his chest, as the winds atop the Eiffel Tower buffeting her hair around her face. I won’t let anything happen to you, he’d said, and he’d meant it—possessed by rage or no, he’d sooner have ripped his own heart out than let her fall. His claws hovered over her skin, refusing to touch. She knew she could trust him, and so she did.

The second thing was bigger. Much bigger.

I just need your here to help me convince Ladybug to had over her Miraculous, he’d said, conspicuously referring to Marinette and Ladybug as separate people when he knew damn well they were the same. Even with his thoughts, his very soul, twisted, Adrien’s loyalty to her was incorruptible. He doesn’t know who you are, he was telling her. He can’t read my thoughts and I’ve told him nothing.

Help me.

She hadn’t had time to grab Trixx. Couldn’t transform in front of Adrien—they didn’t know how wired into Chat Blanc’s senses Hawkmoth was. As long as Chat could convince Hawkmoth that Marinette could bring Ladybug to him, and as long as Marinette could keep Chat Blanc’s attention—and his sanity—he wasn’t a danger. Couldn’t hurt anyone but her, and wouldn’t hurt her.

She reached up, brushed her fingers along his cheek, and he whimpered. “Don’t worry, Chat,” she whispered. I’ll get us out of this.

The only problem was how.

“Gyah!” Alya screamed, pounding raw, bloody knuckles into the stonework at the base of the Eiffel Tower. She pulled back her hand, feeling nothing, as blood dripped down to the stone below. “Where is she?”

“She’ll be here soon,” Nino said, his gaze flicking nervously across the skyline. “That’s her partner, right? She’s—she’s gotta be.”

“It’s been an hour,” Alya snarled. “An hour since Chat Blanc kidnapped our friend, and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of Ladybug in that entire time.” She pulled on the collar of her shirt, looking down, as if the Fox Miraculous could have somehow appeared around her neck without her noticing since the last time she checked, about forty seconds ago. “God damn it!”

“She’ll be here,” Nino said. He stared up at the specks of their friend and her captor on the top of the tower, picking at a hangnail that she knew he didn’t have. “She always is—she’s gotta be, right?”

“What if she’s—” Alya’s voice broke. “What if she’s not?”

“Then I suppose,” said an older, accented voice, “she’ll need your help.”

Both of them jerked around to see a small Chinese man in a Hawaiian Oxford standing just behind them. He wore cargo shorts, sandals, an inscrutable smile—and Nino’s Miraculous.

“Who are you?” Alya said, eyes narrowing.

“I am…” The man tilted his head quizzically. “Ladybug’s mentor.” He held up a hand, with a familiar octagonal box. “And she needs you.”

Alya’s stomach slammed into her solar plexus as Nino stumbled backward in shock. “Where is she?” Alya gasped. “Is she okay?”

The old man shook his head. “Her partner has been captured,” he said. “Which means we’re one step away from losing.” He hung his head. “I had to beg her to stay hidden, lest she lose her Miraculous as well.” He sighed. “So no. She’s not.”

“You’ve got this,” Marinette murmured, stroking Chat’s face. “Keep it together. You’re gonna be okay.”

Chat whimpered as the neon violet mask pulsed across his face. “He won’t stop,” he moaned. “Princess—it hurts.”

She pressed her fingertips into his scalp and began to scratch. He purred, but it cut as the neon mask pulsed, burned hot against his face. Sizzled.

“No,” he gasped. “I’m not leaving her here!” He shook his head. “I swear, she’s coming, she’ll be here—no, no, no—don’t make me hurt her, I won’t, I won’t—”

The familiar whizz-crack of Ladybug’s yo-yo striking metal.

Chat Blanc’s head whipped around as Ladybug vaulted up the side of the tower, charging towards them. He turned, met Marinette’s eyes.

Rena.

She nodded. Go.

Chat launched himself to his feet and flung himself into space, plummeting toward the Ladybug Mirage.

Rena grimaced as she saw the white blur of Chat Blanc swan dive off the Eiffel Tower, leaving Marinette alone and unprotected—the struts were not a place for an unarmored civilian. She hated this plan, but it was all they had.

As Chat fell, like a pulley, a green figure rose up the opposite side of the tower. Carapace bounced upward, launching himself off each strut toward Marinette.

The Ladybug mirage leaped sideways, narrowly dodging Chat Blanc’s claws and blowing the whole charade. Chat spun in midair, throwing up his hands and catching himself on one of the struts, then unholstered his baton and fired it upwards. The Ladybug mirage backflipped away from the tower, rappelling downward on her yo-yo as Carapace grabbed onto Marinette and pulled her upwards toward the observation deck.

The elevator dinged open at the base of the tower, and Marinette rushed out, immediately looking upward. The Ladybug mirage had vanished—five minutes. Rena had probably been forced to detransform already, leaving Carapace all alone against the ferocity of Chat Blanc. Without Marinette there, Chat Noir seemed to have lost all ability to hold Blanc back.

Carapace was losing ground. A temporary hero facing an experienced fighter, filled to the brim with killing intent? No contest at all.

She brushed her hair aside, clearing Tikki a path to her earrings and ducking behind the stone base of the tower. “Don’t worry, Kitty,” she murmured. “I’ll fix this. Tikki—!”

A superstrong arm in orange and black wrapped around her waist, and suddenly she was in midair halfway across the street. “Sorry!” Rena said as they bounded to a stop on a nearby rooftop. “Had to get you clear.” She let go of Marinette, brushing down the arms of her jacket. “Do you know why the Akuma was coming for you?”

Marinette growled. This was not the time—! “No,” she said. “I’ve got no idea.”

Rena glanced back to the tower. “Dammit. Okay,” she said. “Gotta go. Can you get down from here on your own?”

Marinette nodded, and then Rena was gone.

Fighting Chat Blanc—without Ladybug, no less—was absolute hell. Destruction incarnate, unrestrained by Chat Noir’s gentleness, faster and more vicious than any Akuma they’d ever seen.

“You can’t hide in there for long,” Chat snarled as Carapace slumped behind the glowing honeycomb of his Shellter.

“Don’t do this,” Rena whispered.

Chat bared his fangs. “You can’t stop me.” He raised his hand. “Cataclysm!” A violet-black flame coalesced in his palm, like a corrupted version of his usual destructive power.

What happens when Cataclysm touches Shellter? Rena thought, sweating. “I’m sorry, Ladybug.”

“Somebody say my name?”

Wire wrapped around Chat’s wrist, yanking his Cataclysm away from the wall of Carapace’s shield. At the other end of the wire stood Ladybug, hand on one hip, smug grin on her face.

“Ladybug,” Rena gasped in relief.

“Ladybug!” Chat cried in what sounded shockingly like delight. Then Hawkmoth’s lightning-bolt mask flared over his face, and he grabbed his temple and began to scream.

*Chat swung his hand at Ladybug.

“Nnnnnnope,” she said, limboing under his arm just like she’d done during Dark Cupid. She launched herself onto her feet, flipping forward onto the wall across the street and sticking to the window. “Come get me, Kitty!”

“Stop it!” he screamed, charging toward her Cataclysm-first, his face twisted in fear. “Run, dammit! Get away from me!”

“Not on your life,” she said, flipping herself up the wall just ahead of his claw, which closed on empty air.

“Please!” he cried, frozen, his hand shaking. “I can’t protect you from me!”

“No,” she said, nodding. “But they can.”

Chat Blanc turned to see a crowd of Ladybugs, smiling and waving at him.

“Oh God,” he said as Ladybug flipped over him, disappearing into the crowd. “I can’t tell if I’m in heaven or hell.”

Ladybug snorted, lost amidst a swarm of illusions of herself. Ah, Timebreaker.

All the Ladybugs charged him at once.

Chat Blanc screamed, sobbing, trying not to swing at any of them—for all he knew, any could be the real one. She, meanwhile, hung back, watching, trying to figure out where the Akuma had landed. It definitely wasn’t his ring—he wasn’t actually wearing it right now. That left…

“Now!” she yelled, and Carapace leaped out from the alley, slinging his shield at the back of Chat Blanc’s neck. It whonged off his spine, stunning him—

And Ladybug leaped forward, wrapped her fingers around the bell at his throat, and yanked him in to lock lips. He melted into her, mewling, and she pulled the bell away from his throat, crushing it in her fingers.

The metal melted, turning to the blue knitted fabric of Adrien’s favorite scarf before it even hit the ground.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Adrien said to Carapace, leaning onto his friend’s shoulders. The Akuma fight had taken a lot out of him, and he may not have remembered much but catching him up on what he’d done didn’t seem to be great for his emotional state.

“Course, bro,” Carapace said. “Do you, uh…”

Adrien sighed. “Yeah, Nino,” he said. “I know it’s you.”

“Uh, right,” Nino said, pushing back his hood and scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry about the, uh, hitting you with the shield.”

Rena chuckled.

“It’s fine, Nino,” Adrien said. “Promise.” He turned to Ladybug. “Sorry for trying to kill you.”

“It’s fine, sweetie,” Ladybug said. “You were actually trying really hard not to, anyway.”

Rena raised an eyebrow. “Man, even when you’re Akumatized, you’re still shameless in love with—wait.” She scowled. “Aren’t you dating Marinette?”

“Open relationship,” Ladybug and Adrien said simultaneously.

Rena narrowed her eyes, then shrugged.

Ladybug turned to her boyfriend. “Why did you get Akumatized, anyway?”

Adrien closed his eyes, breathed in, then out. “I know who Hawkmoth is,” he said. “And… My Lady?” He opened his eyes, locked gaze with her. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Save Me Archive

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#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chat blanc #marichat #ladybug #ladynoir #ladrien #adrien agreste #my fic #original content #alya cesaire #rena rouge #nino lahiffe #carapace #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #ml fanfic #ml fic

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gaasaku-fanfests · 4 years ago

Text

I can't hold enough of you in my hands

Title: I can't hold enough of you in my hands Author: elleurs Rating: T Word Count: 2,504 words Summary: Band!au. Gaara as the vocalist. Sakura on bass. Gaara making moves on Sakura just before the show/during the show? Author’s Note(s): Someone help me, this took way too long to write and I hate myself haha. I love GaaSaku but AU is not my forte omg I’m sorryyyyyy I don’t know a lot of music stuff so forgive me uwu I did my best. Thanks for the prompt anon! Trope: Band!au. Gaara as the vocalist. Sakura on bass. Gaara making moves on Sakura just before the show/during the show?

D-Day: 7 days

Sakura has never played bass before, but it doesn’t stop Naruto from recruiting her into the band. She’s a sucker for her blond friend, especially when he pulls out his signature puppy-dog eyes and pleading pout combo.

How can she say no?

And okay, maybe Naruto buttering up to her for weeks with pandering statements of “Sakura-chan, you’re a genius, you’ll pick it up in no time!” and “You’re the only one I know who can definitely do it!” stroked her ego until she believed those words herself. Resigned, she’d finally agreed.

Bass guitar resting on her lap (courtesy of Ten-Ten’s brother), she opens the video tutorial Naruto sent to her the day before.

And promptly realises her book-smarts do not translate well to musical instruments.

She fumbles spectacularly. It’s not like she’s never held a guitar before (Ino dated Kiba for a while and he loved to show off how well he could play – he let her borrow it a few times for the ‘gram), but playing it is another matter.

The theory she understands – she can read the notes just fine, but once her fingers try to find the right string, it’s all downhill from there.

It sounds so horrible even to her untrained ears and she feels like crying.

Fuck her life.

D-Day: 6 days

Gaara is…quiet.

It’s weird, because he’s the vocalist, but she doesn’t complain – Naruto speaks enough for the both of them.

For all three of them, really.

“We’re planning to just do a cover of this song,” Naruto explains, slinging an arm on her shoulder. He works out daily at the gym, and his arm is so heavy that she hurriedly shrugs it off before her neck breaks.

Gaara’s behind them, hands in pockets and headphones blasting who knows what song. She looks between him and Naruto and wonders how they met.

She meets Gaara’s gaze, and he’s the first to look away, frowning.

“Gaara’s on strict orders not to say anything until near the performance,” Naruto continues, blissfully unaware. “Aren’t you, Gaara? He’s had a sore throat for the past few days! Only one song, don’t worry. They know Neji stopped playing for us, so they just want us to play something different.” She nods, half-listening.

Their usual bass player, Neji, had to stop once his uncle found out he’d been skipping cello lessons to play in their band. Sakura had only met the uncle once. She can’t blame Neji for backing down.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell Naruto how badly her first foray into bass playing went. Instead she keeps her mouth shut.

It’s just one song.

She can do it.

When she gets home, she works through the online bass tutorials between homework sets and assignment research. She practices until the pads of her fingers on her left hand have little creases from when she would press the strings. She practices hard because she doesn’t want to embarrass herself, but most of all, she didn’t want to let Naruto down.

Naruto has that effect on people, she thinks as she carefully places the bass guitar back on its stand (thank you, Tenten’s brother).

He makes you want to try harder.

D-Day: 5 days

Naruto hands her the music sheet with no words. Then he hands her another sheet with just the bass tabs.

“I wasn’t sure which one you’re more comfortable with reading,” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. She smiles, grateful, and takes the tab.

It’s a lot easier than the music sheet because it shows the strings and which part to press. But still, she gets the placing of her fingers the other way around, or she plucks the wrong string.

There’s only four strings in a bass guitar, which makes her feel even more of a failure, but she struggles on, practising her part diligently until Gaara comes in. Naruto stops playing the drums and throws his friend a grin.

“Maybe help Sakura for now?” he calls out. “If you play the guitar, she might get confused.” Normally, Sakura will be affronted because Sakura does not get confused. She silently endures and makes personal executive decisions in order to prevent that very scenario. That is quintessential Sakura Haruno right there.

But before she can retort, Gaara grabs a chair and sits in front of her, arms crossed and face carefully blank. She’s not sure what to do, but then decides to hell with it and starts from the beginning.

His stares are heavy and she feels uncomfortable. He waits until she finishes the song and made a circle with his finger, indicating for her to start again. Shrugging, she flips back to the first page of the tab and starts to play. Too focused on the music in front of her, she doesn’t notice Gaara until he stood right behind her.

Both his hands brush past her waist and he places them on top of hers. He positions her right hand until her thumb is resting on the highest string and her other fingers are curled, poised for the next note. Next, he fixes her left hand so that the pad of her index finger is on the edge of the fret.

She feels his breath near her ear and her brain short-circuits at the proximity. His hands over hers is warm as he leads her to play the next few notes. When he plucks the strings, she’s surprised at the clear sound the bass makes.

“T-Thanks,” she says, “I got it from here.” Gaara steps back and sits back down.

She messes up so badly that Naruto stops playing the drums and asks her if she’s okay.

D-Day: 4 days

She may or may not have stayed up late last night going over the music.

In typical Naruto fashion, he only gave her the music sheet for the bass, so she has no idea what the song even is, or how the main melody goes. She hopes what she practiced will be enough because what happened yesterday –

She doesn’t even want to think about it. Her cheeks are red from embarrassment.

In the next practice, she doesn’t make a mistake until Gaara walks in. And then her fingers fumble, missing a few beats.

“Don’t do that on the day,” Gaara says as he straps his guitar. It’s the first thing he says to her. That – That –

That asshole!

“I won’t,” she retorts, gritting her teeth. She turns her body away, part embarrassed, part angry, and practises her strumming, trying to remember where to place her fingers and to strum on time. She can feel his gaze on her but she doesn’t care about that pompous asshole and keeps playing.

They’re lucky she even said yes to this thing! Didn’t he know she’s a busy person? She could be doing a hundred other things, but here she is, playing this stupid bass on their stupid band.

When Naruto arrives, Sakura is ready to go home.

“But we have to practice!” Naruto shouts as she stomps out of the room.

“I’ll practise by myself!” she says without turning back.

That night, Sakura practices her part over and over again until she memorises where her fingers are supposed to go and which string she’s supposed to pluck. Every time she falters, she thinks back on Gaara’s words and his haughty expression. It’s enough to make her want to wow him tomorrow and make him eat his words.

She imagines playing the bass so good his jaw drops on the floor, but privately, she thinks that it would be easier to just smash the bass on his face.

It’d be much more satisfying, too.

D-Day: 3 days

In the next practice, Gaara is absent.

“His body finally gave out, I guess,” Naruto says as he twirls the drumsticks in the air and catches one of them. He hurriedly stoops down to pick it up. When he stands up, he sees Sakura’s alarmed expression and hastily adds, “He finds it really hard to sleep, so he can go a couple of days without sleeping.”

Sakura still looks alarmed. “What?” Naruto scratches his cheek absentmindedly.

“He’s an insomniac,” he clarifies. “That’s why he doesn’t practice with us. He usually practices late at night until early morning. Hey, did you know he can play a lot of instruments? His house has like, a huge music room with just instruments, you know?”

Sakura holds up a hand to stop her friend before he completely derails the conversation. “Is his body okay? Should we check on him?”

“I dunno, he said it’s been like that since he’s young. Oh yeah, you know the music sheet I gave you? He transcribed all of it, by the way! He even made the bass parts himself! I couldn’t find the bass tabs anywhere so-“

Sakura’s stomach backflips at this piece of information. “Should we check on him?”

“Nah, he won’t answer the phone. It’s probably a good idea to let him sleep, it’s been a while since he could get a proper rest.”

“He’ll be fine?”

“Don’t worry, Sakura-chan! He’ll be here tomorrow!”

Sakura stares at the empty chair where Gaara usually sits and frowns. Turning away, she gives a signal to Naruto.

“One, two, three!”

She doesn’t make a mistake once.

D-Day: 2 days

Gaara is here and his stare is heavy.

Sakura loves books, and she knows the expression well (trashy romance books are her ultimate guilty pleasures, after all), but it’s the first time in her life she actually experiences it– she’s not sure what to think.

It’s intense, and the way their eyes meet every so often causes her to redden – from embarrassment or what, she’s not sure.

Still, she refuses to be embarrassed – honestly, it’s too late for that now. Their performance is in a few days (!!!!), and the thought makes Sakura’s hands sweat. She misses a few bars in the song, and she doesn’t miss the way Gaara’s eyebrow raised, mocking her.

She grits her teeth when Naruto stops his drumming and tells her they’re going to start from the top. He’s unusually determined, and she can’t muster her usual sarcastic retort because this time, the fault is with her. Instead, she nods and grips the neck of the bass guitar a little tighter.

Gaara’s stare is as heavy as having Naruto’s arm around her shoulders.

Maybe even heavier.

She ignores it, and after a few play throughs, she finally plays it all the way through without any mistakes. It’s a miracle, she thinks, because her mind is half on the song and half on the red-haired boy in front of her.

She wants to meet his stare head on. Maybe narrow them in distaste. Except she maybe kind of likes him. A little bit. A super tiny little bit. A microscopic, tiny bit. The thought of him transcribing bass tabs for her in the middle of the night makes her stomach queasy and her heart tighten. He’s still an asshole, though.

So maybe not distaste but – silent contemplation?

Something like that.

D-Day: 1 day

It’s the day before the performance and Sakura’s heart beats so fast she thinks she might throw up. The stage manager at Shuriken fusses around them on small stage, a short woman with hair up in a bun and wearing a perpetual bitch face. She screams at a poor guy named Tobi.

“No, Tobi,” the stage manager says. Sakura listens to their conversation because it’s better than realising she’ll have to play to a live audience. “Damnit, where’s Deidara? Let me speak to him instead – why? Because you’re a fucking idiot, that’s why! Fuck off and find me Deidara!” Tobi scurries off, but not before flipping a finger behind her back. The stage manager gives Sakura a brief once over and groans, before pointing at her guitar.

Sakura’s confused look only serves to make her impatient, and she snaps her fingers and points at her guitar again. Does she want the guitar?

“I’m surrounded by idiots, fucking hell,” the woman grumbles, before kneeling down and plugging something onto Sakura’s guitar. “Damnit, Tobi, where the fuck is Deidara?” She storms off and the other staff gives her wide berth.

Naruto bumps elbows with her. “Don’t take her too seriously, Sakura-chan! She’s like that, but she’s very good at her job. Right, Gaara?” Gaara grunts.

Sakura isn’t reassured, but tries to smile anyway. The Shuriken isn’t that big – with Konoha University’s funds focusing on sports, it’s a dingy bar at best. Most students go there anyway instead of the games. The drinks are cheap, and if you’re with a band, you get a few drinks for free.

“Gaara’s going to do an acoustic at the first part,” Naruto explains as he sits down in front of the drum set. “Then he’s going to swap the acoustic for electric. Once he does, I’ll count you in.”

It takes them a couple of times but they finally figure it out. Gaara doesn’t sing because Tobi lost the mics.

“Tobi, you’re fucking useless!” the stage woman screams while they practice. “You’re dead meat, you hear me? And where the fuck is Deidara?”

Sakura prays tomorrow will be smooth sailing.

D-Day

Sakura’s hands are sweating and shaking so much. They’re behind a curtain, waiting for Sasuke’s band, Sharingan, to finish their set. Her heart is beating so loudly she can’t even focus or enjoy the music. Naruto is nowhere to be found, probably hanging out with Hinata before their performance.

Where’s Naruto when you need him?

Gaara sees her alarmed expression and approaches. Her heartbeat skyrockets.

“Put your hands out like this,” he says, placing his hands as if in prayer. She does the same. He slaps the backs of her hands, surprising her. It stings a little. “Are they still shaking?” She looks at her hands.

“N-No,” she stammers. Gaara smiles (HE CAN SMILE????) and pats her head.

“Just do what you did yesterday,” he says. She’s still stupefied at seeing his smile (HE IS CAPABLE OF SMILING!!). “If you mess up, I’ll cover for you.”

“You’re singing and playing the guitar though,” she points out.

Gaara raises a brow. “So?” So cocky. Much asshole.

She doesn’t notice because her brain is still restarting from his smile.

He can smile. And his eyes crinkle in the cutest way possible. She wants to melt, and realises his smile is a potent weapon against her. Even more potent than Naruto’s his signature puppy-dog eyes and pleading pout combo. She’ll never be able to say ‘no’ to that smile.

The thought scares her.

Fuck.

The Sharingan finishes their set and leaves the stage.

Fuck.

“Wanna go out for drinks later?” Gaara asks nonchalantly as they walk to the stage.

She stares at him, eyes wide as the reality sinks in. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins as she stares at the crowd and then stares at him.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Fuck yes.”

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #2020 GaaSaku Free-for-All #2020 GaaSaku Free-for-All Fanfest #fanfic #elleurs

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dolls-self-ships · 4 years ago

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MORE stuff about my friendship with the Penguins !!

part 1

* Skipper is kinda like my dad in a way, he’s arguably the most protective of me and he can’t stand to see me upset- with his men it’s a little different because they’re all like brothers to him, plus they’re his soldiers, but I’m sort of like his little girl (not that he would ever admit that). Sure we probably argue the most out of everyone, but we always come out of it having learnt something new about the other, or with a new perspective on something. It’s some good ol, fatherly-daughterly love. God forbid I ever bring a boy or a girl home though, because Skipper is all over that like hot sauce on fish. He wants names, addresses, alliances, accomplices, places of work, ect.

* Private and I definitely have the most in common, and are the closest because of it. He’s like my baby brother/best friend. We watch cartoons, listen to musicals, draw, and bake together all the time. We’re both really soft and wholesome people so our vibes just kinda bounce off each other to create even more wholesome vibes. It’s cute, but sometimes too cute for the others to bare. In Skippers words, “oh god, there’s two of them!”

* Kowalski kinda simps for me lowkey but we’re still tight. I like to listen to him talk about his inventions and scientific theories- I don’t understand any of it but he’s happy to have someone around that’s at the very least interested in what he’s saying. I find it admirable that he’s so passionate about what he does, even though it can get out of hand sometimes. And even though he doesn’t necessarily think of the Fine Arts as the most productive course, he supports me nonetheless because at the end of the day he (and all the others) just wants me to be happy. Believe it or not he’s actually a very comforting friend with a small part of him that’s secretly soft. He doesn’t show it for obvious reasons but when you look at certain scenes in the show you can see a bit of that peaking through and it’s just 🥺🥺🥺

* Rico’s like my chaotic older brother that spent most of his life in a frat house. He teaches me how to fake belch (I still couldn’t do it in the end), shotgun beers (it took a while but I got it eventually), and backflip safely off a roof while still looking sick as fuck (yeah, the others didn’t let me do that, no chance in hell). He’s always barfing up things to my convenience though! This annoyed Skipper at first because it was ‘unauthorized hacking’. I was also grossed out by it at the start but now I just keep a packet of wet wipes on me and I’m good to go. Lots of fist bumps with this man! Lots of ‘em! He’s a total bro, always got my back! And I got his! Loyal as fuck!

* Skipper, on multiple occasions, has accused me of “turning his men into pansies”. I always kinda roll my eyes and try to ignore remarks like this, but I really try to make him see why sometimes that’s okay. Of course Skipper cares deeply about all three of his soldiers, so it’s probably just a front when he says things like that. Though... I do have to help him work on all that misogyny he carries around.

* “All I said was that it’s okay to cry sometimes.”

* “Crying shows weakness!”

* “Skipper, it’s just emotion.”

* “Exactly! I can’t have my men letting feelings run their lives.”

* “What about your anger issues? Those are emotions.”

* “Those are manly emotions, kid! Fierce, unapologetic warrior rage is what makes a good commander.”

* “I-“

* Or on a separate occasion

* “You’ve made my men soft”

* “And? You’re next you know.”

* *GASP*

* One time Blowhole captured me and roasted me for a solid hour in front of the Penguins both out of spite and his pure hatred for humans

* “You pen-gu-ins have really let your standards drop! I mean, how could you stoop so low as to befriend a weak, puny-brained, fleshy human?”

* Rico: *gasp followed by angry gibberish*

* Kowalski: YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE, BLOWHOLE

* Private: That’s not very nice!

* Skipper: Hey, that’s OUR weak fleshy human!

* After that, the Penguins decided that if I’m going to continue to be friends with them, it was mandatory that I learn how to defend myself. Because as long as I associated myself with the four, I was subject to more than than just Blowhole capturing me like an 80’s cartoon villain

* Over time I do pick up moves, learn skills from each of them (sadly, not Rico’s hacking) but Skipper knows that I am in no way soldier material. If he were to train me like he did his men, it would break my spirit

* He just wants me to be able to handle myself in case of emergencies

* He is very much like a worried dad

* At some point sooner or later I end up meeting Julien very much against the Penguins will. He’s just too nosy, and annoying, they can’t stop him

* He is instantly trying to put the moves on me bc he’s horny on main (again, not my suggestion, 100% my sister’s. She KNOWS I can’t handle it when people flirt with me so why would she-)

* The only way I can get him to leave me alone is by showing him my jewelry box, the shiny bracelets and dangly earrings distract him for a good while

* I even let him have a few things that are old or I don’t wear anymore.

* Julien immediately starts gasping and tearing up because he is so touched that I am just giving him this for free???? Just like that????

* He clears his throat and composes himself because obviously I’m giving him gifts, he is the King after all

* Our dynamic for a while is a little awkward for me though because it’s basically this iconic text post

* “Alright, raise your hand if you thought Julien and I were dating. Julien, put your hand down.”

* The feelings were very VERY unrequited :,(

* But it’s okay because once Julien gets over that we actually vibe really well!!!!

* He’s a himbo, and I’m a bimbo, therefore, we get along

* We do all that frivolous shit together: get drunk, go to parties (he knows all the obscure places that send you the location like an hour before the rave starts, it’s wild), get our nails done, talk abt our taste in people

* He’s a raging, flirtatious pansexual and I’m a romantic but shy bisexual

* Of course our friendship drives Skipper up the fucking wall

* He’s worried I’m gonna become more like Julien, but Kowalski says the likelihood of that happening is 0.05%. I might pick up one or two quirks of his because that’s just what happens when you spend time with people but no dramatic changes will be had. I’ll still be their same ol’ Cassandra

* Skipper still thinks that’s one or two quirks too many though of course

* This is way far into the future but my brain kept coming up with ideas for it so; on my wedding day, if I were to ever find someone I wanted to marry, everything is extremely chaotic, to say the least. Skipper is on constant guard mode, under the impression that one of his villainous foes could come and crash the wedding, which everyone doubts is gonna happen

* Kowalski, bless his heart, is the one helping me plan everything. Private pitches in too with decor and food ideas, but the price, date, location, guest list, probability that someone will try and assassinate me, that’s all Kowalski

* Rico is surprisingly into helping me pick out my wedding dress, he knows a thing or two from keeping up with the latest fashion for Ms. Perky

* And Private, he’s my main man on the big day. He’s the one helping me remember my vows, breath, talking with me before my human friend’s come in to do my hair and makeup. If it were up to me I would’ve made him my maid of honour, no joke. He said he was, well, honoured!

#i dont know where all the wedding stuff came from i seriously dont #but i had fun writing it!#bees self ships #self shipping #self ship #self ship community #self ships #self insert #platonic f/os #pom #the penguins of madagascar #skipper #rico #kowalski #private #king julien

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fictional-worlds-are-exquisite · 4 years ago

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i am very much enjoying my vague void! it's currently blasting hozier at full volume and that's almost louder than my internal screaming (don't worry, everything is fine, i just saw a spider)

i've never once in my life have followed a recipe correctly. all of my measurements are completely random and whatever happens happens. it is no longer in my hands. whatever eldritch entities exist take the wheel. and i absolutely refuse to spell anything in english without autocorrect because y'all have way too many double letters and random vowel placement

thank you! sadly, i won't have a break right now, because we just had christmas vacations, but the start of the new semester is always pretty chill. and you're absolutely right, i should take up necromancy! the snow and the cold will add to my mysterious vibes. i just need to get a big black cape with a hood to complete the aesthetic

i definitely picture everything above 5'6 feet as the same height. 5'7 and 6'2? the exact same thing. no difference here

how is morepork a real bird name. it's just... more pork? but the bird is magnificent. i completely approve of your first order as bird queen, not that you need approval from mere peasants like me, but it's a great order. ohhh salps look really cool, and it does look a lot like it! when you said boob implant i thought of mermaids and them using salps as boob implants but then i realised wait wouldn't jellyfish be better for that? because of their shape? ignoring their little leggies they're quite boob shaped, no? and then i realised that i was thinking about mermaids and alive boob implants... if i had to think it, you have to read it. i'm sorry

i was sold before but now i'm even more sure that i want to hire you. and I'll make sure to have lactose free cheese for the backflips (unless you want the lactose version? i'm not judging). will the biting of ankles cost extra?

that sounds like a brilliant set-up for a horror movie where they kill off all the children one by one. it's absolutely horrifying. if something like that would've happened to me i would've most likely just passed out. whatever happens afterwards is not my problem. and now i really don't want to know what the hell your leg was caught on because that seems like knowledge that would get me killed

ah so you're a fellow dirt eater? according to my mom my favourite thing to do outside when i was a little kid used to be eating sand. just shovelling handfuls of it into my mouth and crying when my mom made me spit it out. which i refuse to believe. if there are no photos it didn't happen

you warm climate people are starting to make me think that i'm better adjusted to the cold than i thought i am! it's either that or our buildings are better heated. i definitely don't know if anyone else calls hot water bottled hotties but i like it so from now on i'm using it

that's so cute! i was clearly a way more selfish child because when i found any amount of money i just kept it and bought candy as soon as i could. i clearly couldn't save money then and i can't now. we have stores like that (or i'm assuming that they're like that solely based on how they sell lollies) and they used to be my favourite thing because you could get so many lollies for such a small price!! and my mom even used to let me order for myself sometimes so i always felt like a very big girl jsjshsbsjk

also the fact that i can't send pictures on anon is a crime (yes i know why and it's good that that's not possible because can you imagine anons being able to send pictures? oh no is all i have to say about it) but anyways. because i have this one super cursed photo that reminded me of you and now i can't share it :((

duuuuude, sick void bro. sounds like a vibing void. I feel like I haven’t seen a spider in awhile. Other than daddy long legs. But they’re chill. They mind their own business.

I nearly always follow recipes exactly. My mum is like oh cook this for about 7 minutes? Yeah sure. I’ll take a wild guess. I’m like they say exactly 7 minutes so I’ll set a timer for 7 minutes and start a stopwatch so if it does seem to need more than 7 I can keep an eye on the extra time and be aware of exactly how long it takes me for next time. Other people are like oh let's see I have [lists 5-10 things in their fridge], hmm...oh I know what I could make with that! I’m like I have beans in my freezer because one recipe required them and no other recipes I know how to make do so what am I supposed to do with these now,,, this is stressful,,, basically I barely know how to cook and recipes are the only things saving me in that area. That is entirely fair. Except for the fuck duck, and murder is not the word you want surely, situations, it’s pretty helpful.

Ohhh I see. At least the start is chill! For a little! Before your entire situation spirals out of hand and you’re behind in every class and it’s taken you a whole day to read 10 pages and you’re exhausted and it’s only week 2. Just me? ok. fair. anyway. I want a cloak so bad. One of my uni friends tempted me to class because she said she was wearing a cloak so my depressed ass honest to god dragged myself out of bed and to said class just to see it. It was worth it. They’re incredible. Everyone should own a big cloak for the aesthetic.

I’m glad it isn’t just me hahaha. I can visualise my own height in feet but everything else is just the same size that is a vague amount taller than me, mentally.

It’s also known as the ruru. But the name morepork amuses me. It’s named after the call it makes haha. It does sound like it’s asking for more pork if you know to listen for that. thank u for ur approval, it means a lot, turns out becoming bird queen didn’t ACTUALLY get rid of my anxiety disorder weirdly enough so validation is great! lmaooo. What if the jellyfish stung them tho? At least salps wouldn’t do you dirty like that. The mermaids would just look like there are hundreds of bugs crawling around in their boobs, flesh shifting as they float around. Which is a vibe. If you’re into that. Jellyfish WOULD make a more solid, single, implant, some of them are definitely boob shaped. But that’s kinda boring no one’s gonna be traumatised by that. Salps on the other hand...yeah, that sight will DEFINITELY traumatise someone.

To be PERFECTLY honest I haven’t done a backflip in years but for lactose-free cheese? Dude. I’ll be going back to training. Gonna be the best backflip you’ve ever seen. As long as it’s not Tasty cheese I am content, but lactose free IS better. The biting of ankles will not cost extra, it is a pleasure to be allowed to do that.

Oh it absolutely would be. It’d be very funny if it reached the wider world bc people would probably be like ok but who would send kids into the bush like that,, it’s an odd concept. meanwhile everyone who grew up in nz is gonna be like y’all, you’re not gonna fuckin BELIEVE what i experienced growing up, it’s real dude. On one hand, I feel like murdering kids in a movie is questionable, on the other hand, It exists, so maybe people would be down for it. I feel like it’d be a good concept even if it wasn’t murdery tho. Like psychological horror? I’m not sure if I’m using that category correctly I don’t watch much horror. A kid following the rope but then being shifted into a different horror dimension but they never take the blindfold off because their teachers said not to and they’d probably have to let go of the rope to do it...I feel like this could work super well as a short film. The viewers see everything. The child just knows something is off and no one is coming when they call for help. I am so down for this. I also do not want to know what my leg was caught on. Some things I am better off not knowing.

yes! I am a fellow dirt eater! We had a sandpit at home (that’s a little bold. It was a large plastic shell that my parents filled with sand. technically a sandpit. but not fancy sdflsdkfsdf) but I don’t think I ever tried to eat it. Then again, I possibly did and just don’t remember because there’s no photo evidence of that one. I’d have to ask my parents sdfhsjdfs, I would however fully believe them if they said yes. it’s very characteristic of me. I don’t doubt it for a second. muuuum that’s my emotional support sand don’t make me spit it out smh the disrespect these days.

Oh I’m absolutely terrible even by most people’s standards around here when it comes to cold and hot temperatures. I remember sitting in the sun in my school shirt and school jersey in summer on a blazing day like it’s a bit chilly, isn’t it? Meanwhile my friends were in the shade absolutely dying from the heat. Likewise in winter I’d be shivering, teeth chattering, dying with my long sleeve thermal, my school shirt, my school jersey, my school jacket, my longs, warm socks and sneakers and gloves and school scarf while ppl would be walking around in a shirt and shorts like it’s a bit warm this winter huh? my body didn’t learn how to thermoregulate and it shows. But yeah NZ does also have a reputation for shittily insulated buildings and such. It shows. skhdfsfs if it’s not common use maybe don’t say can i have a hotty to someone without context but otherwise go ahead lmao. it’s a fun shortened version.

I was typically a very good saver, to the point where my extended family started gifting me gift cards and vouchers for Christmas and my birthday because if they just gave me money I’d put it in my bank account to save towards uni once I hit like, 12 years old. Which I think was a smart move. But apparently, I’m supposed to buy myself ‘something nice’ with it. I think I’m still an okay saver but I’m not as strict anymore. I’m aware of how much I can spare and I’m not just like you can never get anything for yourself ever, so I do get lil things for myself sometimes. oooo yay! At least you know what I mean. But yes. They were the gold mine for lollies. Absolutely terrific stores. My mum would be like hey lindsey how about you order? And I’d be like mother, I am 7 years old and I have an undiagnosed anxiety disorder everyone assumes is child shyness why would you think I would want to do that. Instead I will whisper my choices to you. After therapy tho I felt pretty rad for picking my own lollies by myself. I was like 13 at that point but sdfkjhsdf listen I got there in the end.

sdfkjsdfkjhsdf I like that a cursed photo reminded you of me. That’s all I need to hear. Tumblr said no anon dick pics but they also said no anon cursed photos either,,, very sad. for the latter part. the first part thank god. If I could turn on photos on anon I absolutely would just to see this but I don’t think I can :(

#tasty cheese is nasty and i will die on this hill #i'm not sure if other countries have like the same main cheeses or if it differs everywhere #tasty. colby. and edam are the main three i think of #i know there's like mild or some shit but i know only the blue yellow and red packets #either or a wasp or a bee just flew in my room but it flew out so i'll respect that #my plans for today were reply to your ask and that's it #what am i supposed to do for the next twelve hours #oh wait i know #m u r d e r............#Anonymous

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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years ago

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Take Me to the Show

Adam stood behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, as I watched people hurry back and forth setting up the arena. We stood at the ringside area just behind the security railings. I was ten feet from a fully assembled wrestling ring and grinning like a fool.

“This seat here is yours,” he said pointing down at a padded steel chair at the end of the row. “Front row seat. Best view in the house.”

I looked up at him, knowing I was blushing brightly. “What should I expect from my first wrestling show?” I asked.

“A hell of a lot of fun,” he replied grinning. “And we’re going to start you off good. Kenny and I are opening the show.”

“Oh,” I said, lifting a brow. “Kenny’s here tonight?”

Adam huffed and stepped back away from me. He did his best to look angry. “Just for that… you go up to the nosebleeds. Go on…” He reached around me and slapped me playfully on the ass. “Get.”

Laughing, I sashayed past him. “Hey,” I shouted into the empty arena. “Cleaner! Omega! Where are you?”

I swished my hips dramatically, grinning back over my shoulder at Adam. He was standing by the railing, arms crossed over his broad chest, an overblown frown on his face. I could tell he was trying not to laugh at my dramatics. Part of me hoped I could find Kenny, just to wind Adam up.

“You called?” Kenny called, plopping down on the edge of the stage. He looked from me to Adam and back again. “Uh oh. Somebody’s unhappy.”

Grinning, I leaned against the side of the ramp and looked up at him. “Oh, he’s just being grumpy.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Kenny said playfully. He slid down from the stage and threw an arm around my shoulders.

We practically waltzed toward where Adam was still standing near the barrier. His jaw was clenched, but it was clear that he was doing it on purpose to keep from laughing. Kenny walked up to his tag partner and planted a kiss on his cheek. The muscle in Adam’s jaw jumped. His eyes looked desperate to laugh.

“Hmm,” Kenny mumbled, turning back to me. “That normally works. Let me see…” He turned around and gave me a loud, overly dramatic smack on the cheek. “Do you feel better?”

“Very,” I replied, nodding.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing as Kenny turned around, tapping his long fingers against his chin and wagging one in Adam’s face. It took a moment of prodding around the ribs for him to break. Laughter spilled out of Adam, making his blue eyes brighten and scrunch from the breadth of his grin.

“Get over here, you,” he said to me, reaching out and snatching me from Kenny’s side. Adam tucked my hair behind my ears and cupped my face in his hands. His smile faded a little into seriousness. He sniffed and made a face. “Ew, Em. You smell like Omega now.”

“Hey, I smell damn good,” Kenny shouted on his way to the back.

Glancing up at Adam, I nodded as if Kenny had made a sound argument. “He really does.”

Adam growled and tugged me close into his arms. He started nuzzling his jaw along my hair. He even lifted up his arm and tried to rub his armpit in my face. “Smell like me again, dammnit.”

I giggled and tried my best to shove his arm back down. He was showing off his strength by making it exceedingly difficult. “Stop! Stop! I don’t want Hangman B.O. in my face.”

“Just wait until after the match. I’ll show you B.O.”

I turned and wriggled out of his grasp. I backed up, holding both hands out in front of me. “Please. I’ve smelled you after you’ve been mucking stalls.”

He rolled his blue eyes and took a step toward me. “That’s Page B.O. Com-plete-ly different than Hangman B.O.”

“That’s not how it works,” I squealed, looking behind me as I got near the stairs. I started up them sideways, keeping an eye on him.

“That’s exactly how it works,” Adam said taking the stairs two at a time.

I darted down a row, doing my best to make sure that I didn’t fall and hurt myself. “I swear to God, Adam Page, I will murder you in your sleep and put you in the woodchipper.”

“Don’t be like that. You know I wanna be fed to a tiger.”

That was enough to make me stop dead. I pointed at him, shrieking as if I’d figured out a horrible secret. “I knew it! I knew you watched it. Without me!”

He stopped, holding his arms out toward me. “Don’t be like that, Em. I couldn’t help it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. But I let him get close enough to wrap my arms around his waist. I made to nuzzle into his chest when he promptly shoved his armpit in my face again then dashed off laughing like a maniac.

***

Adam wasn’t lying about it being a hell of a lot of fun. The people started pouring in—every single seat in the building had been sold out. Around seven-thirty, Brandon Cutler and Peter Avalon came out and had the warm-up match. It was the first time I’d ever seen a wrestling match up close, and it was almost better than seeing it on TV. Sure, there were some things that were hard to follow, but hearing the noise of the ring and the blows… there wasn’t anything like it.

It was abundantly clear when the show began. The theme music blared through the arena. People screamed and shouted, held up signs. A couple people around me had signs that said Hangman, Drink My Beer. At least two people in my row had them, as well as a pristine beer can at their feet. Which, I assumed, explained why Adam had asked me to buy a beer at the concession stand even though he knew I wasn’t a fan it.

“Trust me,” he’d said as he dropped a kiss on my forehead before heading backstage.

The show began with the entrance of a tag team named S.C.U.. I couldn’t help but bob my head at their music. It was pretty cool, and I had to admit that the trio that came out looked like they could give Kenny and Adam a run for their money. They set themselves up in the corner directly opposite me.

Techno sounding music spilled into the arena. When I looked toward the entrance, I saw Kenny’s face splashed across the two huge screens. He came out in these horrible tights and a jacket with a single black feathered wing sewn on it. The tag belt was around his waist. He stopped at the top of the ramp and lifted his arms, pointing upward. Pyro went off, popping so loud I thought I’d go deaf. I watched with admiration as he trash-talked his way to the ring and climbed in. I lost track of the rest of his entrance as more familiar music began.

I loved Adam’s theme song. The first time I’d heard it, I knew it was a perfect fit for him. And the video was awesome too. Adam sauntered out of the tunnel and stopped at the top of the ramp. He looked around and threw his fist into the air, setting off another round of pyro. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked angry. But I knew that was just his game face.

But Lord Jesus have mercy, he looked good in that vest and those trunks. I could feel heat running up into my cheeks. Maybe I needed to come to see him wrestle more often.

The match started off fast and brutal. Kenny started out against the other side. It was hard to follow since things were happening so quickly. Plus, Adam had made sure to stand right in front of me. Which made it very easy for me to get distracted by his ass.

But when he got in the ring… it was magical. He was quick and strong, agile and more acrobatic that I expected. When he climbed to the top of the ropes and did a backflip off into his opponents, I screamed and put my hands over my mouth. He sauntered back and forth in the space between the ring and the security barrier, winking when he caught sight of me.

A moment later, he was dragging his opponent back into the ring. He tagged Kenny, who hopped the top rope and delivered a wicked looking knee to the face. Adam had been leaning against the ropes, catching his breath. As soon as Kenny was out of the way, Adam took two or three running steps and somersaulted backwards, landing hard on his opponent’s midsection. He rolled out of the way as Kenny went in for the cover.

Three seconds later it was over. Kenny and Adam stood in the middle of the ring, arms raised, belts in hand. I jumped up and down, squealing and screaming with pride. Adam was amazing. I’d never imagined that it was like this. I could understand why he said it was an addicting profession.

As they rolled out of the ring, people held up their signs and shoved unopened beer cans over the railing. Adam grabbed two of them on his way by and looked as if he was going to walk right past me. He stopped, his face taking on a comical expression of interest as he backed up. He sat the cans down on the ground and leaned his forearms against the railing in front of me. I recognized the look in his eyes. That playful, flirtatious look that never failed to get me weak in the knees.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he cooed, making a show of looking me up and down. “Mind if I have a sip of that beer?”

I grinned and handed it over to him. “Thank ya kindly,” he said, taking the cup from my hand and downing it in one go. I watched some of it run down his chin and drip onto his chest. I pinched my thigh to keep myself from completely loosing my cool.

Adam tossed the cup over his shoulder, took a deep breath, and shrugged. Then he slung an arm around my waist, dragged me close, and planted a very thorough kiss on me right in front of the cameras. He turned and snatched up his discarded bandana from the steps and handed it to me. Grinning madly, he picked up his beers, tipped one up at me in salute, popped the top and did his best to drink it and walk the ramp at the same time.

***

“My God,” I said a few hours later as we rode back to the hotel. “You weren’t kidding. Hangman B.O. is way worse.”

He laughed… that deep throated, completely free laugh that could make me happy on the worst of days. “I told ya.”

“But I have to admit, you look kinda sexy out there, cowboy.”

“Damn straight I do,” he replied, reaching for my hand and kissing my knuckles, grinning all the while.

#adam page #take me to the show #take me saga #hangman adam page #hangman page #kenny omega #emily king (ofc)#aew #aew fanfiction #real person fanfiction #one-shot #fluff #alcohol

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