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torifeelslikewritingagain · 4 years ago

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Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Fred and you have never been sure of your feelings for one another.

Word Count: 7,823

Warnings: A bit of bad lenguage, and slow burn(?

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve written in 6-7 years, so let me know what y’all think, I’d appreciate it a lot:) Also, forgive any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my native lenguage, haha

GIF credit: @fgweasley

Fred liked looking at you from afar.

He liked the way how you were different from all the other Slytherins even though you actually were like the rest of them.

Since your first year at Hogwarts, he’d taken a liking towards you. Of course at the beginning that liking was just friendly, he liked that he didn’t feel the need to punch you in the face, he’d never admit it tho, not even to George since they’d been taught to mistrust those in your house; but during that first year he’d always notice how you were the only Slytherin in the room who wouldn’t talk in class unless you were asked to by the teacher, he liked that you didn’t look at him or at George with despise. Of course, there were also times where the thought of you quietly and discretely planning a mass murder would cross his head, but you never gave a reason to worry that his suspicions were actually true.

Fast forward to your 3rd grade, after the winter break, he noticed in the platform how much your parents would actually show you their affection, that was also weird for the majority of the Slytherin kids he could recognize, and it wasn’t until that moment that George noticed him looking at you that he said:

“Oi, we’ve never pranked her, have we? Maybe we should pay more attention this year”

Fred felt terrible in that moment for having put you on George’s radar, he didn’t want to pull a prank on you, right? Although, to say the least, he was curious at how you’d react, after all, you weren’t insufferable like the most of your house, but you also weren’t the quiet mouse that you were during your first year, he’d seen you become more social, he’d notice how you would actively participate in Divination class asking Professor Trelawney real questions instead of mocking her like the rest of the students. He’d also see you talking to Abigail Rosier during dinner and often times he’d see you walking around the castle with her, so he concluded she must have been your best friend.

One night after dinner, when your fourth year was beginning, he was sneaking away from Filch, until he overheard Malfoy yelling at someone:

“… keep defending them?”

“Because you insist on being a bloody cunt to them for no goddam reason!” It was the first time he had ever heard you say bad words, or even angry, you’d usually keep a neutral aura that was sometimes disrupted by your friends being funny or by him and George who had gotten a like to pull little harmless pranks on you. “They’re wizards too, Malfoy. Their blood status shouldn’t matter to you or anyone, that’s none of our business, they are just like us”

“Speak for yourself, I’m nothing like those blood-traitor weasels or that mudblood…”

“You’re right, the Granger girl is smarter than you could ever dream to be” In that moment he picked up what was happening, you, (y/n) Lafington, were defending his little brother and his friends, and you weren’t even friends. Were you? Did you think that them pranking you was being friends?

“My father will hear about this”

“Well, make sure to send him and your mother my love” He saw Malfoy starting to walk away “You’re children Malfoy, you don’t have to do this, leave them alone” He heard that last phrase with a smile on his face, now he could actually tell George that he liked you.

…

After the hallway incident, he rushed to tell George and Lee, who didn’t believe him; so he saw himself forced to subject to his brother the question if you were in fact, trash or not.

“Lafington?” Ron asked George back

“Isn’t she the girl who is always talking back to Malfoy?” Inquired Harry “You know, the one who is always around the chaser… eh.. Pucey!”

“Yeah! She is! I’ve talked to her in the library, we’re trying to convince McGonagall t…” At that point Fred had stopped listening, he was just happy to prove George and Lee that what he had seen was real, but he wasn’t so happy to hear that you were hanging around with someone as despicable as Adrian Pucey.

A few days later Fred noticed himself paying more attention to you, George did too.

“Just go talk to her”

“And say what? I was walking around the castle and decided to spy on you and Malfoy so now I want to say thank you for looking out for my brother and his friends when I couldn’t?”

“That’s not so bad, actually” George smirked, Fred felt immensely stupid, he couldn’t figure out what was it that he found so difficult about talking to you. “But if you’re not going to do anything, I guess that Adrian Pucey will” With that said, George walked away, making sure to bump into you, he apologized and smiled to you, as he kept walking, he turned to Fred to make sure he was watching, so he decided to seize the opportunity his twin created for him and approached you.

...

By the start of your fifth year, you had kind of developed a friendship. You liked the twins, you liked how at the end of last year they had sticked up for you when everyone turned against the Slytherins because of the Chamber of Secrets thing, you grieved the disappearance of their sister and celebrated when she was found, you liked how they didn’t take life too seriously and would always be there to make you smile.

You liked how George would give you sweets when he had any on him, you also liked how much of a good listener he was, he was always there to hear you ramble about astrology, Slytherin’s gossip or a random book you had found at the library, out of the two of them, you were closer to him since Fred always seemed to have a weird face on when you were around, but it didn’t bother you that much, so you paid no mind. You also liked how both of them didn’t make fun of you when you told them that you liked quidditch even though you didn’t know much about the teams, you liked playing it mostly, not watching.

Fred liked that about you too, so when you told the twins that Pucey was helping you train to try and join the Slytherin team that year, he felt his chest shrunk in relief, you weren’t flirting with Adrian, you were just being mates, after all, Slytherin is the most loyal house, and you all looked out for each other.

You made your way into the team as a chaser, the twins were happy for you, and you were thriving! Quidditch had come sort of therapeutic for you, you loved the rush it brought when you were riding your broom so far from the ground, the sensation of danger when you knew that one the bludgers might hit you, you also loved the idea of getting out in an accepted way the rage that was always boiling inside of you.

Honestly, quidditch was the best thing that could have happened to you, it helped you to finally ditch what was left of your shell, as the season advanced everyone could notice how you were becoming more outspoken, more assertive, more popular; that didn’t mean that you were immune to the dementors watching around the castle, though. You just felt the need to express everything you were feeling, whether it was good or bad. And having those creatures around did affect you, despite to what everyone might have thought, you could be spotted arguing with Malfoy more often, you wouldn’t wait to keep things in the Slytherin common room anymore, you would just explode at any given moment. Professor McGonagall was worried about you, you’d always been one of her favorite students in your year, Snape on the other hand, was watching your character development rather amused, he told McGonagall that it was just matter of time that you actually started behaving like a real Slytherin, to what she refused to believe that he was right, so she decided to take the matters into her own hands.

“Professor, I swear on Merlin’s beard that we haven’t done anything punish-worthy in the last three days” Fred said while he and George sit at Professor McGonagall’s desk.

“Yeah, whatever happened to Filch has nothing to do with us this time” The professor looked at George in confusion to whatever it was that they had done this time, she hadn’t called them in for any of that matters.

“Mr. Weasley” she started “I actually called you and your brother for a different reason this time, although I would very much like to know what you did this time in order to automatically be defending yourselves. I wanted to speak to you about Miss Lafington”

“(Y/n)?” Asked Fred

“Yes, Mr. Weasley. I’ve noticed that you are rather close to her, and well, since she is one of my best students, I feel a little bit concerned about her attitude and mood lately”

This year you didn’t share your favorite classes with Gryffindor, which meant that the twins would often see the more reserved version of you in the classroom when the topic wasn’t of your particular interest, so Fred started to worry a little when Professor McGonagall said that; where you skipping class? Were you failing? He and George sat there in silence.

“Nothing unfixable, I want to assume, so I ask you both to remove that awful look from your faces. My guess is that the presence of the dementors, those terrible creatures, has been affecting your friend, as you may notice, a good portion of your classmates. So, as your head of house, I’m asking you to keep an eye on your friend and one of my dearest students”

“So, you want us to prank her more often” George asked with a smirk on his face.

“Mr. Weasley, please, be serious. I’m asking you to not let these things affect that girl more than they should. I’ve noticed that quidditch has become and outlet for her but it can only last so long, so maybe try getting her out of the dungeons and the aura that surrounds her house for a little bit. Distract her, put some positive thought in her head”

“I understand, Professor” Fred nodded, he felt that McGonagall was overreacting a bit, you all were growing and asserting your characters after all, but he did notice you a little more irritable than usual. “Count on us”

“Good” She concluded “Now, go to class” The twins went for the door and just when they were about to close it “And know that you both have detention today for whatever you did to Mr Filch”

…

Fred had no idea how to approach you without spilling the conversation he had with Professor McGonagall, so he let George do the wonder while he just kept looking at you from afar as he always had. He didn’t know why, but every day he looked at you, he swore that you looked better than the day before, sure, you had eye bags and looked tired from all the training, but he found you mesmerizing even when you had your hair up in a bun that looked like a bird’s nest. And he could notice all the boys were noticing you, too, now he didn’t only have to worry about Adrian Pucey, no, now he’d also had Lee, who found you extremely badass, Cedric Diggory, who was on the Hufflepuff team and had been asking about you to some of the younger Gryffindor girls, knowing that Fred & George would talk about you in the common room, even Oliver had taken an interest towards you because of how you played; the quidditch boys in general, he didn’t worry about Marcus Flint, though, he knew that he was too ugly for you.

So he kept his distance, as a friend could, of course. You’d hang out with him and George more often as Fred tried to sort out his feelings for you. Was he still just curious about you? Or had he actually started developing something more than platonic? He knew that you were amazing, and he was glad that people had finally noticed you, but he’d also feel bummed out by that sometimes, he felt that one day you might stop talking to him and George. He worried about what you thought of him, mostly, because he knew that he wasn’t as good friend to you as George was, but it was because he didn’t want you to look at him just as a friend, did he?

Meanwhile, you were enjoying the extra time with the twins, by the end of the school year you had even helped them come up with some ideas for the joke products that they had started designing, you still liked having them around among most of the new people in your life. You felt infuriated when you didn’t win the house cup, Fred reassured you that your game was good, it just was Wood’s last season and no one loved quidditch more than he did. So one week before going on summer holidays, they asked you if you wanted to come to the Quidditch Cup with them and their family, you weren’t sure, so you said that you missed your parents and went home.

During the summer you wrote to both of them, and Fred insisted that you joined them on their trip, but you didn’t want to be a bother, what if you didn’t fit it? What if their parents didn’t like you? What if all of their family hated you because you were a Slytherin? They assured you that you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, that their mum would love you and their dad would, too.

On the other hand, you were nervous about even asking your own parents, they didn’t hate the Weasleys or any other “blood traitors” in particular, they didn’t care about those things, but they hated drama, that’s why they would keep low profiles and had taught you to do the same. You hanging out with the Weasleys at school? No problem, teens could always be spreading rumors, but you knew that showing up with them at an event like the Quidditch World Cup would be interpreted as an statement, and you knew how delicate things were getting politically, so you obviously felt uneased to say the least, you loved your parents, and you knew the values that they had taught you, but you also were aware of the kind of world were you grew up in, a world where people like the Malfoys would find themselves trying to be pleased by everyone out of fear.

You didn’t respond to the twins for three weeks while you meditated your next move, you were dying to see them, but was that urge stronger than your loyalty to your family?

…

Turns out your mom had seen you so down that she decided to go around your stuff and found the twins’ letters. When you came home from spending a few days with Abby she welcomed you with the letters in hand at the tea room. “Well, that’s it. It was fun while it lasted” You thought to yourself, but much to your surprise your mother encouraged you to go with them.

“There was only one boy who wrote to me like this, and that boy grew to be the man I married and turned into your dad. -Pay no mind to the blood status- I believe that’s what your father and I have taught you” She said taking her tea cup in hand.

You didn’t know why she was acting like this; they had also taught you to avoid big conflicts, yet, here you were. “Sorry mom, I don’t think I follow”

“Do you know why you feel like standing up to Lucius’ son? Because it is in your blood. During my time at Hogwarts I was friends with some muggleborns, but unlike you, I let myself get carried away by my house peers, don’t make the same mistake, much less when it’s about love” You remained silent after she spoke, you didn’t know where did she get this idea that you loved Fred, because she was talking about Fred, right? He was the one who wrote to you more constantly. “I’ll talk to your father; we’ll discuss it over supper”

Confused was short for how you felt. But at least you’d get to spend some time with some of your best friends, so that night you wrote to Fred that you were, in fact, joining them in a few weeks. You felt your stomach sink the moment your owl left. What if him and George now hated you? What if they thought that you not responding for weeks meant putting an end to your friendship? As these questions wondered your brain, the doubt of why your mom started talking about love came, too. Cause she was talking about Fred, wasn’t she? Why was Fred the one who came to your mind for this matter? Maybe she was talking about George, you were closer to him, essentially. But it was the mystery that drove you back to Fred, because sure, you were friends, but he had that face when you were around, and you also felt that there was this barrier, not in a hostile way, but as an aura of, well, mystery. You knew that he was the one to like you first, George had told you that story about the hallway and you defending Ron, and how Fred basically ran to tell him, yet, you always seemed to feel it odd since Fred was a little distant. At first you thought it was just his personality, you had thought “maybe George is warmer” but you’d often see him hang out with other girls, too. He’d hug Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, just like George would, but he wouldn’t even let his arm brush yours unless George had started play-fighting and he had to intervene, so you just had thought that maybe he liked you, but he didn’t quite trust you. Until now.

What if your mother was right? What if Fred liked more as more than a friend? You couldn’t even begin to make sense to that idea, you had seen Fred around other girls, he was a master at flirting, he’d swoon them over. The thought of him fancying you didn’t add up to how he treated you, did it? You refused to give your heart false hopes and dismissed those thoughts quickly, you just went to sleep happy to create memories with your friends.

…

On the other hand, Fred thought that he would spend the most amazing time with you during these holidays, he had even started talking to George about his feelings for you trying to figure them out, but then his father told him that his friend, Amos Diggory and his son would also join the group, at least for the trip, and he felt like cursing the entire world. How could he define what he felt for you when Pretty Boy Diggory would be around? George knew, that Lee knew, that Tori knew because Annabelle had told her, that Cedric was interested in you, he was curious, too. The difference was that Diggory knew that he could charm anyone he wanted, he just had to play his cards right, while Fred couldn’t even begin to admit that he wanted to play his cards too.

You arrived at The Burrow a few days before the Cup, you got to spend time with the Weasleys and even Harry and Hermione, you knew Hermione from your late night study sessions at the library, but you had never actually had a conversation for Harry, you found him rather plain, not in demeaning way, but you could see that this boy had barely an idea of what he represented, he was just like any other boy his age. Molly loved you, even when you found hard to call her that instead of -Mrs. Weasley-, and Ginny liked you too, she liked having another girl who liked quidditch around to play, she was good, you bonded over the game. And she was kind enough to tell you that everyone noticed the small tension that was going on between you and Fred. At first you thought that she was just messing with you, after all, she was the sister of Hogwarts´ most prolific pranksters, but then one night Hermione joined the girl talk, luckily, the subject changed to Ginny’s crush on Harry, but you were left wondering, if people were repeating what your mother said, it might as well be truth, right?

You spent that night thinking about Fred, you liked how he snorted while laughing after a prank he had been planning for long turned out brilliantly, you liked how he would talk you out of pulling an all-nighter to study so you could go wander the castle with him and George. You liked how he would look out for you during the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin matches, much to Oliver’s dismay…

You loved how competitive he was. You loved how before each game he’d tried to place a bet, whether you both were playing or not. You loved how you two would exchange challenging looks from one side to the other of the field. You loved how defensive he got when it came to someone offending you or talking trash to your back. You fell asleep while thinking in all of the things that you loved about this boy, maybe you did have a crush on him…

The next day everyone was super excited, it was the game day, so you all got your bags and started walking into the forest. You were walking with a twin on each side when you saw a man with glasses come up to Arthur and greeted him. You heard Fred sigh and murmur something beneath his breath, but whatever he said was eclipsed by George saying “Now, the fun begins” with a huge devious smile on his face, you didn’t get it. Was this man someone that Arthur didn’t like that much? Were they work frenemies? Then your thoughts were interrupted by something falling from a tree, a someone, actually. Next to the man talking to Arthur was now standing the Hufflepuff’s team captain, Hogwarts’ golden boy: Cedric Diggory. You turned around for a brief second to look at Ginny and Hermione, who you could already see were starting to get a little face-heated from just looking at the boy, you didn’t blame them, every girl at school had a crush on him, and you weren’t the exception, you just were more discrete when it came to showing an opinion, plus you hadn’t been officially introduced to him, sure, you had played against him, but you had never crossed a word, so you felt that showing even the slightest hint of heart eyes for him was inappropriate, plus, now you had come to terms that you liked Fred more than just a friend, right?

He quickly noticed that you were all standing there looking at him so he came up to say hi.

“(Y/N), this is Hufflepuff’s team captain: Cedric Diggory; Cedric, this is (y/N) Lafington, Slytherin’s newest chaser” George introduced you after greeting him.

“Yes, I know exactly who she is” Cedric shook your hand firmly while he answered to George. Fred was silent. “You were the talk of all teams last year, how come no one had noticed you before?”

-Well, I noticed her since our first week at school, thank you-Fred thought to himself.

“I just…” You smiled at Diggory while shrugging your shoulders “I guess I wasn’t that interested in sports before, I’m more of a library mouse, actually”

“Oh, okay, so you’re smart, too. I get it. I like that” Oh Merlin, you liked Fred, but so did you liked having the most eligible man at school looking at you in the way he was.

George was having a blast mentally, he knew Fred was bloody pissed, but he thought that this was for his own good, Fred had to realize that you wouldn’t wait for him forever, so mayyyybe George actually had encouraged Diggory to hit on you. He felt like he was doing his best work as a best friend and as a brother.

During the rest of the walk, Cedric joined you and the twins, you all chatted a bit about school, and when you arrived at the game you went to the girl’s tent. Hermione and Ginny were craving details about Diggory, but you really didn’t have much to give them. Later, when you went looking for the twins, you didn’t find them, Cedric found you, though. You decided to take a walk around with him, while you were talking you got to know him a little better, he was a good guy; you picked up that the flirty smiles and eyes between you two were just denial when he mentioned Cho Chang, Ravenclaw’s seeker. This boy didn’t want to admit that his playboy days were over, you thought that was funny. Yeah, you still had a crush on him, but you realized that it was a platonic thing, you liked Cedric, as a friend.

After placing a bet with Ludo Bagman, Fred had gone back looking for you, when he saw you laughing along with Diggory he felt his stomach shrink and the bile rising through his chest to his throat, maybe Angelina was right, maybe you knew that he liked you but you just chose to ignore him, but he also George’s voice came to his head in your defense, how could you even begin to imagine what he felt for you when he could barely look you in the eye? Those beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. He took a deep breath and approached you, telling you that it was time to go to your seats, you said goodbye to Cedric and followed Fred.

“So…” You started while trying to keep with him “I was hoping that you could tell me a little bit about the teams that will be playing tonight…”

“Didn’t Diggory tell you any of that? Or was he just trying to get in your pants?” You stood completely frozen at what he had just said, Fred had never said anything mean to you, in fact, he’d go after anyone who mistreated you.

“Excuse me?” Was the one thing that you managed to express. Fred turned back to look at you and he crumbled a little on the inside when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the shock, he thought how cute you looked with your eyebrows furrowed like that, but he quickly realized that he had fucked up.

“Oh… I-…” He didn’t know how to apologize; he wasn’t used to get carried away by his emotions in that way. You didn’t say anything, you stood there maintaining eye contact, you were waiting for a proper apology. “Look, I’m sorry, that came out in a completely wrong way” He waited for a response but you gave him nothing “Fine” he sighed and walked over closer to you “I’m sorry, I really am” Nothing. “Hey, Lafts, I’m now begging for your forgiveness” He used your nickname, which you felt relaxed your forehead. “Pleeeaaaase…” In that moment you felt him taking your hand and putting to his mouth to kiss it while giving you puppy eyes.

“Okay, I accept your apology” You said with a small smile in return, and taking your hand away from his. “But what in hell has gotten into you?” You asked as you started walking again.

“I just don’t like that he thinks that he can have you that easily, I don’t want you to get hurt by one of the most famous playboys at school. That’s it” Fred knew that he had to be cautious about what he said, he didn’t want to sound like a complete lunatic, but he also didn’t want to confess his feelings for you in the middle of the scenario that you were standing right now in.

You also didn’t want to keep going with this fight, so you accepted his excuse and kept going, even though on the inside you were still upset about him talking to you that way. When you arrived at your seats you placed yourself between Ginny and George, avoiding Fred. George resumed the season to you before the game started, you saw Draco and his dad, who offered you joining them in the box, but you refused politely with a simple “Thank you Mr. Malfoy, but I’ll stay with my friends for this once” which made everyone look at you with inquire, you explained that Lucius Malfoy was one of your father’s oldest business partners, so it was better to keep things light with him, Draco was different story; that last part relaxed the tension and made everyone laughed.

During the game you could occasionally feel Fred’s gaze on you, you’d sometimes look back, letting him know that you weren’t angry, but still you didn’t want to engage a conversation with him yet.

You had a good time, even though you still liked playing better than just watching, the twins and Ginny were really happy that Ireland had won. After you exited the stadium Arthur told everyone that you’d have dinner an hour later, so you returned calmly to the tents, while you were walking you started hearing people screaming and some even running, you looked at the twins but they were just as confused as you.

“Spread!” Arthur yelled at you “Spread! Hide! Fred, George, watch your sister” at a not so long distance you could see people with some weird masks marching forward and destroying the tents around, then it hit you.

“Death Eathers” you barely mumbled. You turned to see Harry, Ron and Hermione already running “Go” you said firmly now to the twins, you pushed them and Ginny in the opposite direction where the Death Eaters came. “Go. They won’t hurt me. At least I think so, go, hide, protect Ginny” George nodded and took Ginny by the hand, the started walking.

“Oi!” Fred called them, but they didn’t listen, he turned to you, and grabbed you by the arm “I’m not leaving you here, let’s go”

“No, Fred. You’re a blood traitor” you got rid of his grip

“So are you!”

“Yes, but my family never talks about this publicly, no one knows. I won’t put them at risk” You knew that the words were hurting him, but he knew that it was truth, your parents’ business depended on them remaining neutral, no one really knew about your family’s blood status views unless they were close to you. “Look, Fred” You could hear the chaos closer and closer “You know I love you guys, and you know I value your friendship, but right now I really need you to go and look for George and Ginny, I can take care of myself” Just like he did with you a few hours earlier, you could see the hurt in his eyes, you knew your mother liked him from the letters, but you couldn’t bare the idea of putting her in danger for a simple crush. “I promise I’ll look for you guys when this is over, I’ll go help your dad” You kissed his hand and pushed him away “GO!”

You barely could see him running away because you turned around and started casting transfiguration spells on yourself, if you were getting into this fight, you’d make sure that no one behind those masks could recognize you.

When the dark mark was casted onto the sky, the Death Eaters started vanishing, everyone remained shook, when you made sure that none remained there, you started waking back to the party’s tent, there you returned your appearance back to normal, when you came out you saw Arthur returning, he recognized the clothes you were wearing and hugged you. “Thank you” he said as soon as you broke apart, you put your hand on top of his on your shoulder “No problem, Mr. Weasley. I just wish I could have done it without wasting time putting a costume on”

“You helped innocent people, and that should be enough” He gave you and honest smile and went inside the tent. Later when everyone had returned, you all returned to The Burrow, where you all were warmly welcomed by a worried Molly Weasley, who had heard everything from the news.

“Oh, dear, I assume your parents must be worried about you, you should write to them” She said to you as soon as she had the chance, and you agreed, so you thought that the best was to return home the next day.

…

Your parents weren’t that worried about you, actually, they knew that you were a fighter, but they did look worried about how thing would start changing from here on in, you told them that you made yourself unrecognizable when the Death Eaters showed up, which your father thanked you.

Over the next few weeks you wrote to the twins and your other friends, you even exchanged letters with Cedric Diggory (to whom George had felt the freedom to give your address) You just wanted to go back to Hogwarts and get away from all of the political problems going on, you wanted to go back to normal, where you could actually be you and give zero shits about blood status, you couldn’t wait enough for your 17th birthday, the day your freedom would came; if you were seventeen your parents would get excluded from all of your personal decisions. But for now, you could just keep on dreaming.

During the first week of class of your sixth year, you looked for the twins, they greeted you with the warmest of hugs, especially Fred (which surprised you) and you offered them an apology for bringing up the blood thing the day of the game, they were really understanding.

“Don’t worry, dad was amazed at how feisty you turned out to be, he didn’t see it coming, he snitched on you with us” George words made you giggle “Changing your looks to kick ass? That’s clever”

“Yeah, maybe you could help us perfect those spells so Snape and Filch can’t know who came for them” Fred added with a wink.

That same week you learned that this year you wouldn’t have quidditch because Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, those were terrible news for you, but still, you felt excited about having exchange students over, and the twins had the idea that you could still play quidditch on your free time during the weekends, it wouldn’t be the same, but you were okay with it.

Fred wouldn’t admit it, but he really wanted you to accept the idea of weekend quidditch, because that was the first step on his plan to conquer you. When he heard his dad speaking so highly of you, he was certain that he was totally in love with you, the fear of losing you that he felt the day before, the way he reacted when he saw that Cedric could make you laugh too; the way his tummy felt when you kissed his hand, the way he suffered every minute while he hid knowing nothing of you and dreading the worst, he scolded himself mentally for letting you go, he should’ve gone with you, he shouldn’t have left you alone in a situation like that; All of that made sudden sense to him while his father kept telling the story, he didn’t just have a crush on you, he wasn´t just curious, he was head over heels in love with you. So he asked for Charlie’s advice, and he designed a plan to ask you out s u a v e m e n t e, the original plan involved hanging out after quidditch practice, so when quidditch got cancelled he had to improvise. He also had an advantage this year, you guys shared Potions class, which Fred knew was one of your favorites, so he would be able to talk to you during class because of Snape’s favoritisms towards Slytherins.

The weeks passed and you started noticing how George would always disappear when the tree of you were supposed to hang out, leaving you alone with Fred, you didn’t mind, you loved the way his red hair would look at night with the dim lights of the castle at night, and he loved the way your eyes lit up when you looked at the stars. Truth is that you two were getting closer, closer than friends, none of you said a thing about it, but you both could feel the connection growing. When the Yule Ball was announced you were sure that Fred would ask you to be his date, so you and Abby went dress shopping, she really didn’t like the idea of you getting with a Gryffindor, much less a Weasley, but she was happy that you had someone just like she had her Durmstrang student.

When you got to the shop Hogsmead and started looking at the fabrics, you noticed that other girls were already there, between them you could notice the girls of Gryffindor’s quidditch team, you paid no mind to them nor to their whispers and dirty looks. Abby went away for a moment to try on a dress that she liked, when she came back she had an annoyed look on her face.

“You didn’t like it?” You thought it was the dress “You know that’s just the sample one, they can make it for you in a different color”

“It’s not that” she said, putting the dress back “I liked the dress”

“Then why the face?”

“Look” she started “I know that you like the Weasley boy, much to the house’s dismay, and I’m trying (y/n), I’m really trying to keep my nose out of this because I like seeing you happy” she paused for a second before going, you could see that her mind was working trying to say something.

“Abby, it’s okay, I can take it” What could it be? Had he gotten in a fight with Adrian again?

“When I was in the changing room I could hear Angelina Jhonson talking about how excited she was to be attending the ball with Frederick”

“Well, that’s a shame for her, he’s going to ask me”

“That’s the thing Lafts, he asked her already, not you, her.” You could see that Abby was trying to hold it together, she was quite protective of you, but you did recognize that she was trying to not hate Fred. “I know it sounds terrible and I don’t know, maybe those twits are tryin’ to play mind games on us, but you should definitely check that out; I don’t want this night that we’ll probably remember forever to be ruined for you by some stupid scumsucker”

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, you were certain that Abigail wasn’t fond of the twins, but you also knew that she just wouldn’t lie about it, so when she had her order on her dress made, you two returned to the castle.

That night at dinner you had a hard time spotting Fred at the Great Hall, you also had a hard time spotting him anywhere in the castle, when you went to George for answers he responded with a simple “Love you both, I’ve done plenty trying to help Fred. I’m not getting in the middle of this mess” And walked away, which left you feeling even more confused and angry than before, why were they shutting you down? You wrote to your mom to know if anything big had happened outside the school, but she said nothing had really came up. You were left with nothing, the next few days George made sure to let you know that he was still there for you, but he drew the line when it came to talking about Fred. Something inside of you said “See? You were right, Fred didn’t really like you, it was all in your head; if not, then how come only George is here now?” And you didn’t want to give this voice the reason, but it was the only thing in your mind.

The days passed and the ball came, you ended up attending it with Adrian, after all, you and him were really good friends. You were having a great time with your friends, you even danced a piece with Cedric, then George came to you, too. Fred remained far away, you could see him on the dance floor with Angelina, as Abby said; you felt your heart break a little more every time you looked at him, you were angry at him, but you were also angry at yourself, how could you had let yourself think for a minute that someone like him could fall in love with you? You were opposites, and everyone knew it, and everyone made sure you were reminded of it at all times. A slow song came on and Adrian said to you that he would try to dance with some girl from Beauxbatons, so you went to sit down for a bit. You watched all the couples dancing with a bit of longing, you saw that Ginny was there with a boy and you felt your heart melt for a moment, not everyone was having a rough night.

“Not having fun?” You heard George’s voice behind you.

“Eh” you shrugged your shoulders “I’ve been better” you turned your head to look at him.

“Well” He hunched over to be at your level “I see Pucey dancing with someone and my date blew me off too, wanna go wreck someone’s make out session?” That last part with wiggling eyebrows. He made you chuckle.

“Fine” You said rolling your eyes. You took your clutch and followed him through the hallways, you walked quietly, trying to spot any couple to scare. Suddenly George came to a stop in front of a door. You looked at him with questioning eyes, he nodded, letting you know that there was someone in there.

“You go first” He whispered. You smiled, excited. You got your wand ready. When George opened the door, you pointed your wand but before you could say anything you were surprised by Fred Weasley standing in front of you. Well, he was actually pacing, but still, he was in front of you. You turned to George.

“I thought you said t-“

“I know what I said” He cut you off. “But I’m doing this for you, not for him” He looked at both of you before closing the door and leaving you there.

You stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, you didn’t even want to look at him, you were hurt.

“So, I saw you dancing with Diggory…”Fred finally broke the silence.

“Really? Are you seriously bringing that up?” You decided to look at him and when your eyes met you felt the world freeze. You stared at each other. Fred had been watching you from afar, too. But now that he had you close, he was taken out of breath of how good you looked. The way your dress made your skin pop, the way your eyes were glowing thanks to the make-up, he could also see the lip gloss that you had been reapplying all night.

“Fred?” Your voice brought him back from his mind. “You know what? I don’t even know why I decided to stay, I should’ve left with George” You headed for the door but he quickly got up and stood before you.

“No. You know why” You got chills, you didn’t know if they came from the cold of the classroom you where standing in or from the look in his eyes. He took off his jacket and tried to covered you with it.

“No” You said stepping back and putting your hand in front of you. “You don’t get to play prince charming with me, not after you ignored me for a month… Why did you do it..?”

Fred didn’t know what to say, he knew that the moment to confess his feelings to you had arrived, but he felt too dumb to say something.

“You know Fred? If you didn’t like me you could’ve just been straight forward about it.” You started talking trying to keep your voice neutral. “You didn’t have to pretend to be my friend all these years, the worst part of it is that these last few months I felt like something beyond a friendship was growing between us” That was it, you gulped, your voice broke “You didn’t have to make me fall in love with you and then break my heart” Fred rose his head. You crossed your arms over your chest trying to keep all your feelings in.

“Wait a second, love, rewind a little bit there” He was in shock, he walked towards you. “You’re in love with me?” You could hear the surprise in his voice. Was he now laughing at you?

“You’re impossible, Weasley” You headed for the door again, but Fred grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. “Let m-“ You felt his lips crash on yours, shutting you up. You responded to his kiss, you could sense desperation in it.

“I’ve liked you since our first year” He said when you finally broke away “I’ve always felt keen on you. I love you. I shut you out because I was too scared of my own feelings, I’ve never felt this way for anyone else. I figured out that if I just cutyou off, all the feelings would go away, but they didn’t.” You looked at him mouth-opened, not knowing what to say, you both had been feeling this way but you were too scared to admit it.

“You’re an idiot” You finally managed to say. He kissed you again.

“Yes, I am, I am the biggest idiot ever” Kiss “but please say you won’t pay mind to the all the bloody talking and you’ll be my official girlfriend” He pecked you on the lips again.

“Yes, yes, okay” You laughed.

You stood there for a while, laughing at how obnoxious you both had been the last few years. You were in love with Fred, and Fred was in love with you. You weren’t waiting for you 17th birthday anymore, you were making up for all the lost time, everyone else could go to hell.

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred imagine #fred weasley x y/n #fred and george #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #fred weasley #harry potter #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #hp

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brackenfrond · 4 years ago

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Let’s Talk About Cullen

A controversial topic, but I'm not delving into voice actors and how horrible they can be. I'm talking only about the character Cullen, who I still want to appreciate as a character without the horrid attachment brought by GE. I want to separate GE from Cullen for a minute, so I’ll say it again;

Let’s talk about Cullen.

TW: Mention of rape and self harm. Nothing that is worse than mentioned in ambient dialogue in Dragon Age, but just in case.

Let’s talk about how he grew up in Honnleath, with two sisters and a brother. Honnleath, where a mage retired with immunity granted by Maric, who used his magic to scare people and took joy in it. Who had trapped demons outside of the Fade in his basement. A mage who is exactly what people fear, and Cullen having to live with the knowledge that the man on the edge of his village was bad, because how is scaring his sisters and brother good? Who had listened to the Chantry talk about mages being a threat, about how Templars protect people without magic from the threat. How Cullen joins the Templars to help protect people, because that’s all he ever wanted to do.

Let’s talk about him growing up in training with other recruits. Making friends and rivals. Being a teenager, waiting to finally become a full Templar. Making his family proud. But also hearing the older Templars talk about blood mages, or how that last mage failed their Harrowing. How one was asked to be made Tranquil, or how just last week one jumped out of a window on the higher floors, unable to take it anymore. Laughing at the words ‘the only good mage is a dead one’, but not in humour. The uncomfortable laughter, the one where you feel like you have to join in, but not understanding why it’s so funny. Especially when you play chess once a week with the apprentice you have a soft spot for, when you help get a book from a higher shelf for a little boy who reminds you of your brother.

Let’s talk about how he watched his fellow Templars die in front of him. How they left him alive to watch as they were killed by the mages that they were meant to protect (the only good mage is a dead one), being possessed, and you’re stuck and helpless, denied food and water, left to rot. As all things do, fear turns to hatred, and the visions they taunt you with, eyes that shouldn’t look at you like that, words that shouldn’t be said, do not help. So when help finally comes, you snap and snarl and tell them to kill them, kill them all. Maybe the others were right. Maybe the only good mage is a dead one.

Maybe the apprentice you liked wasn’t kind, would slit their hand with a knife and kill you. Maybe the boy you got the book for is now an abomination, prowling the halls, or dead due to an older mage’s magic.

And then they send you to Kirkwall, the worst place any Templar with PTSD could go.

Let’s talk about that, shall we? Sending Cullen to serve under Meredith, paranoid that blood mages are everywhere, and you believe it. Of course you do, you remember the tower, the mantra that could be true. But here, you see harsher things - you hear of mages who passed their Harrowing being made Tranquil (and that’s against the law, isn’t it? But surely...they’re blood mages, they have to be -), of a boy not much younger than you being followed into his room on a night (and had that happened at Kinloch Hold, but he’d been blind to it? No, no, that can’t be true, it’s just a rumour -), of Alrik’s proposal to turn every mage in Kirkwall tranquil (and that’s ridiculous, it’s so horribly wrong, how could he even think…? He turns up dead in Darktown, papers on his body stating that the motion wouldn’t be passed, so it was a pointless de -). His mantra changes, his thoughts turn to ‘mages are not people’, because if all the horrible things that happened to him mirror what they do to mages - lock them up, imprison them, rape and beat and torture, even if Meredith says it’s for the best - then he has been following a horrible thing for his entire life. Suddenly, he’s not proud anymore. He’s broken apart and bruised inside, and when the Chantry blows up and sides have to be taken, he can’t help but feel relieved when Meredith falls. He sees the boy who was scared of Karras, sees the Champion who had saved them all with fire at their fingertips, sees a Dalish mage and maybe the man who kickstarted it all, eyes wide but furious. He lets them go.

He has a moment to breathe.

And then the sky splits open.

Let’s talk about Cullen.

Let’s talk about the Commander of the Inquisition. Let’s talk about how he is still suffering PTSD, how he still has nightmares about Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall, how he’s trying so hard to be better but is still so terrified of mages that the mere mention of a Magister (blood mage, blood mage, they killed his friends, nearly killed him -) has his hackles rising. He knows his mistrust is without cause, he knows it’s unworthy, but he sleeps and sees Uldred or Meredith, madness in their eyes, and he was tortured by one and nearly killed by the other, hated one and followed the other, and it eats away at him constantly.

So he tries. He plays chess with Dorian, a Tevinter mage who he shouldn’t trust, but he makes nice with him. Finds a friend, maybe, though that might be stretching it too far. He works past the shame in his throat and manages to write to his family, and is relieved when Mia is only annoyed it took him so long to write back, worried about his health. He stops taking lyrium, he leaves the Templars, the order he wanted to join since he was eight, and works on getting out of the addiction forced upon all Templars by the Chantry, and after helps others who have left the order.

Let’s talk about how Cullen isn’t perfect. He’s still scared and distrusts mages, because the niggling fear of ‘what if’ will always be there - ingrained into his mind, and proven correct after Uldred’s revolt. He said things that he no longer believes - not entirely - because he has made friends with mages, and how could them being dead, being less than human, be better than Dorian cheating horribly at chess, or Vivienne cutting down Orlesian’s with a few well placed words?

Let’s say that Cullen isn’t black and white. He isn’t perfect, but he isn’t a monster. He’s so beautifully human, this character, and is there to show that everyone, no matter how old they are, or hurt, no matter who they are, is capable of change.

They just have to be willing to try.

#Cullen Rutherford #dragon age #character analysis #I guess?#I just have a lot of feelings around Cullen #Both good and bad #I wanted to get them all down for writing reasons #and also discussion #please don't come at me with Cullen hate #I am small and sensitive #And not built for argumentative confrontation #Cullen critical sure #but not blatant hatred #might do more of these if it gets some reception

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plus-size-reader · 5 years ago

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Regarding Dean

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1663 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Dean gets hexed and loses his memory, so Sam calls his brother’s ex girlfriend when he has no one else to turn to.

——————————————————————————————————

The Winchester’s weren’t new to the idea of curses and hexes.

They had been dealing with witches for quite some time, but the trouble with witches was that they were all different and there was no way to know every single spell.

Every witch was different, and that meant that every spell was different. However, this hex was different than anything they’d ever experienced before.

Dean was losing his memory, slowly and surely he was forgetting everything and it was only getting worse. It was more than Sam could handle on his own.

So he did the one thing he knew to do…

He called you.

You hadn’t seen either of the Winchesters in quite some time, but he knew that if anyone could help it, it was you. You had always cared about both him and Dean, even if you did have a falling out with his brother a year or so ago.

It ended your relationship, but that didn’t mean it ended the care you had for him.

Sam knew that if Dean was in danger, you would come. There was nothing that could keep him away if he needed you, even that stupid fight.

“Hey Y/N” he started, his voice clueing you in instantly to the strife he was feeling. You had no idea what had happened, but you were all ears, as soon as you realized who it was.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” you wondered, taking a deep breath as he started speaking. You could hear the panic in his voice as he explained it, but you didn’t panic yet.

As far as you were concerned, Dean had probably just gotten in over his head, and you and Sam could take care of it. That was all you could let it be for the time being.

However, when you finally arrived at the motel they were staying at, you realized that couldn’t be farther from the truth. From the moment you opened the door, you knew that Dean was in much worse shape than you had originally thought.

“Whoa, who is that?”

...Much worse shape indeed.

With the way your last conversation had gone down with the Winchester, you knew that he should have recalled it, but you didn’t even address him.

Instead, you turned your complete attention to his younger brother.

“What do you know?” you started, setting your duffle bag on the floor with a thud. You knew that you had to get on this, because if Dean didn’t even remember you, it was only a matter of time before he forgot Sam entirely.

Rowena was a lot of help with helping the two of you figure out where to start but there was still one thing that you had to get taken care of before you could go hunt down those witches.

...Someone had to watch Dean.

“I’m not doing it” you huffed, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. You understood why he needed you to, but you hadn’t been alone with Dean in months and you weren’t about to break that streak.

Sam just didn’t seem to understand that.

“Well we can’t both go” he reasoned, gesturing back to where Dean was, picking up the motel phone and putting it back down again, over and over.

There was no telling what kind of trouble he could get into if he wasn’t supervised.

One of you definitely had to stay and as strong as you were, Sam was stronger. If either of you had a chance of taking down the witches all alone, it was Sam.

So you conceded.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it” you sighed, earning a nod from Sam who understood why all-too-well.

The last fight that you and Dean got into, the one that ended your seven year long relationship, and it made sense that you weren’t eager to deal with him again.

However, this wasn’t the Dean that you remembered.

Dean wasn’t himself right now.

“I know, thank you” he hummed finally, heading out the door. Sam only stopped to press a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving. You were really helping him a lot right now, and he appreciated it.

There was about six seconds of silence, before it was broken by the man behind you, giggling.

“Are you Sam’s girlfriend?”

If Dean had been himself in that moment, he likely would have been jabbing at you but right now, he was laughing like a grade schooler.

This was going to be a long day.

“No, I’m not” you answered, plopping down on the other bed across from where he was perched, now playing with the remote. You couldn’t believe that you were here, after everything that had happened.

...But at least Dean wasn’t going to remember this once he was cured.

If you were lucky, you’d be able to just go back to hunting alone, not having to think about your past, or what had happened with Dean. You would be able to go back to being oblivious to the Winchesters.

“Well, do you want to be my girlfriend?” he offered now, nearly making you choke to death on the air you were breathing. Was he really hitting on you right now?

That was rich.

“No, I don’t think you could handle that” you laughed, only half kidding as you laid down against the comforter. You knew that this was going to be a process, but you just had to be patient.

After all, it had yet to register in your mind that Dean could actually be in real danger here.

...That wasn’t an option in your mind.

“Why not?” he wondered, obviously pouting at your rejection. If only he knew.

Why not? There were about a thousand reasons why not, most of which had been pointed out by Dean himself throughout your relationship.

The hunting life wasn’t meant for families or couples, or anyone who had someone they loved. It was too dangerous, and you and Dean weren’t immune to that stress.

It hurt too bad every time one of you got hurt, and you couldn’t lose him again. Looking back, it was only a matter of time before it blew up in your faces anyway.

You two were stupid to think it would work in the first place.

Not that you could tell Dean that now.

He wouldn’t remember what you were talking about and it would drudge up the painful past for no reason. So, instead of going on about why, you just laughed.

You laughed it off in the most disingenuous way you could muster and turned back to the pay-per-view on the cheap television. It was much better than any of the alternatives.

It wouldn’t do any good.

You’d just have to wait for Sam to come back with that cure and then maybe you could deal with it. Anything would be better than wasting your breath now.

Though, this did give you a good opportunity to rant to Dean about all the ways he’d messed up, even though it really wouldn’t give you any kind of closure if he couldn’t counter.

That was the only thing about Dean you had always admired.

...He didn’t hide away when he thought something was wrong, and he would never change that.

It just wasn’t in his nature and you could respect that.

Whatever it was Sam had done had successfully cured Dean of the curse he’d endured, but that only served to make it more awkward for you. After all, you hadn’t seen Dean in person for months and it was strange.

Before Dean wasn’t really Dean but you couldn’t hide behind that knowledge anymore. You had to just own up to the fact that Sam called and you showed up.

You showed up because Dean needed you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Dean asked, he had a foggy memory of what had happened but he couldn’t recall who was there or what was said. It just all kind of blurred together.

Luckily for you.

“I heard you were in a rough patch, I didn’t want to miss it if you made a fool of yourself” you joked, trying to shrug it off as casually as you could.

The worst thing you could imagine would be having to admit that you had been so worried about him when Sam called that you drove a few hours in the middle of the night to watch over him, even if it was the truth.

You were just long past telling him that to his face.

It wouldn’t make a difference in the things that had happened between you in the past.

“Very funny” he groaned, rubbing his head nonchalantly as he thought over the events of the day and tried to make the throbbing in his skull stop. There was a bland tone in his voice, lacking the bold snappy attitude you were used to.

Usually Dean would have jumped on an opportunity to joke around with you a little bit and throw his own insults your way, but not today.

Today he just had too much on his mind to worry about whatever it was you were trying to do. In fact, he was just shocked that you were there in the first place.

Of all the things that could have gotten you here, the fact that it was this, it was odd.

A curse? Why would you really care if a curse befell him? It didn’t have anything to do with you. His life had been in danger before and you hadn’t shown up.

What was different about this?

Dean had no idea, but something told him that he’d find out before the end of the night. If there was one thing about you that Dean knew for sure, it was that you had never been one to keep secrets for too long.

The truth was bound to come out eventually.

All he had to do was wait it out.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester x ps reader #supernatural #supernatural x ps reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x plus size reader #supernatural imagine #spn #spn x reader #spn x ps reader #spn x plus size reader #spn imagine

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arandompostarchive · 4 years ago

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Inure - Ch. 1

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

***

The man ran through the hall, his footsteps echoing throughout his house. He tried to navigate the dark halls, too scared to turn on lights or stop and think. He turned every so often, hoping your figure wasn’t behind him anymore. But it always was. He was panicking, you could tell. He could feel sweat stick to the inside of his white button down and the creases of the dress pants he had yet to take off.

He tried to avoid the small side tables and expensive foreign vases that lined his hall. He had managed to trip over a few tables though, knocking the glass onto his floor, shattering it. Each time he’d whisper a soft curse. There was glass beneath your shoes that probably cost millions of dollars. You found it funny. Even now, running for his life, money was still at the back of his mind.

He ran into the next room he saw, his office. A closed off space with nowhere to run. He turned around, looking at each wall. You could hear a string of curses fall from his mouth before he turned to you.

His small study still had a lamp on, the room dimly lit with the yellow-tinted light.

“Please, what do you want? Money? I can do that. Hell, I can get you your own house! I’ve got connections. I can find people for you! Other people! Please, don’t.”

Now, most people would feel bad about this. Chasing a man through his own home with certain ill intention. But you had seen his life. You’d seen what he does to people. He’d tear apart families, kidnapping people and selling any drug he could find. His hands were soaked in blood, something you could understand. But while you had killed, you picked your victims well. They were the most guilty people you could find. Murderers, kidnappers, kingpins, anyone who managed to escape justice.

Some called you a serial killer, a term that wasn’t exactly incorrect. Some thought you were a vigilante, which also wasn’t wrong. But no matter what, everyone was silently grateful for everything you did.

You always found a new target. From whispers on the street, other criminals, cops who needed a break, sometimes Nick Fury himself would send you a case file or two. You had seen it all, people with souls blacker than night. And this man was no different.

“I don’t want money, Laurence. You’ve killed innocents. You’ve let people die. You’ve heard them beg for mercy and have granted none. Why would I give you a luxury you haven’t given any of your victims?”

The man stuttered. His eyes darted around, frantically trying to find something. Maybe a weapon or just an idea of how to get out of this mess. He suddenly spoke, his voice shaking and cracking. “Because I have information! There’s this man who’s building some huge weapon. Probably wants to take New York out. He could start wars with this thing, yeah? It’ll kill millions in a heartbeat. I know what he’s got! I know what he’s doing, I’ve met the guy! I’ll tell you everything.” He spoke quickly, hoping to finish before you decided to end him. “But not if I’m dead.”

You scoffed. “Tell me, why on Earth would I accept the pleas of a dead man?” You asked. It was a real question, despite your sarcastic tone.

“I’ve got the info! He was chatting with some friends of mine, gave ‘em a whole file about it.” He reached toward the desk and pulled a file off of it, showing it to you. It read “SPECTR2” on the front in small, black script. Your eyes widened and you grabbed the file from him.

He watched as you read over it and confirmed his theory. He was right. Whoever this man was, he had the real thing.

“Alright, fine.” You said, accepting his offer.

“Oh thank god! I knew you’d be reasonable, you’re all about ‘the greater good’, yeah? I’ll tell you whatever you want, lady.” He said, relief washing over his features.

You smiled. “Yeah.” You held the file at your side. “Thing is, I know all about this project already. I don’t need you.”

The panic quickly spread across his face again and he racked his brain for something else. “C’mon, don’t I get something here?” He said, glancing at the walls to find some kind of weapon.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll make your death quick.” You said, taking out one of your swords. He only had a minute to react before he was already dead. You had gotten used to the sight of death, though it wasn’t your favorite thing, there was something satisfying about knowing you had avenged people in some way.

His blood had already stained the carpet he had surrounding his desk and leaked along the cracks of the wooden floor. You groaned at the thought of cleaning your shoes after this and sat down at his desk chair, looking for any other info on the man starting up Project SPECTR again.

***

“So you want us to team up with some psycho killer?” Tony said, leaning back in his usual chair. The meeting room was packed, each member of the team, and some newer additions, crowded together at one table with Steve stationed at the front.

“She has information, Tony. She says lives are in danger.” Tony looked at him ridiculously.

“I’ve got my share of psycho’s on this team and now we’re working with another?” Tony gestured to Bucky and Loki’s side of the table. He got a glare from Nat and he only shrugged his shoulders in response. “Her terms are insane! She wants immunity for every crime she’s done or ever will do. That doesn’t sound insane to you? What if she’s got some master plan and we won’t be able to arrest her for it?”

Nat looked between Steve and Tony. It was obvious they weren’t getting anywhere.

“She’s got info we need. If she wanted to enact some ‘master plan’ she’d just use whatever death machine she’s got, not tell us about it. If she’s serious, we’ll hold up our end. If she’s messing with us, we won’t and we’ll lock her up on site. But if she’s really found plans for what could be the world’s next terrorist attack, we at least need to see her proof.”

Tony looked to Nat, “She’s basically holding the world hostage! Either she gets to do whatever the fuck she wants or everyone dies. We’re really letting that slide?”

This time Steve spoke, though he glared at Tony a bit for his cursing. “I didn’t say I liked it. She’s put us in a tough situation. And Nat’s right. If she’s lying in any way, we’ll lock her up. We’ve got to living lie detectors at this table.” He gestured to Loki on one side of the table and Wanda on the other. Tony only rolled his eyes, silently accepting the argument.

“Are we sure about this? I mean, if she’s telling the truth, then we’ve got some sociopath with a death ray somewhere. But what if she’s lying? She’ll be in the compound. Even if we can lock her up, what if we aren’t able to before she accomplishes whatever task she’s trying to?” Sam said as soon as the room had quieted a bit. A few team members nodded along, considering the possibility.

“We have to take that risk.” Steve said.

***

You strode into the Avengers’ compound, appreciating the space. It was larger than what you were used to. You had jumped from house to house, staying away from law enforcement. If all went well though, you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

There were a few Avengers there to greet you. You had recognized them from the news and you were interested in seeing Natasha here. Among them, you saw Tony Stark. You’d recognize him a mile away. He looked different from his father, though he had the same sarcastic look on his face. You considered punching him now, maybe giving him a serious injury. But, sadly, there really were lives at stake.

Captain America stepped closer to you, holding out his hand. You took it hesitantly, the gloves of your suit meeting his hands. You appreciated the hood of your outfit now with the light reflecting off of windows and into your eyes. It was at least a little bit of protection.

“Specter. Good to meet you. I’m Captain Rogers, just call me Steve.” The other Avengers stepped to his side, making you slightly uncomfortable with how close they were. You couldn’t show it though. You had to be steeled, show no fear. Especially since you were in the lion’s den.

“This is Natasha, Tony, and Thor. We’ve got a meeting room just this way.” He got straight to business and began leading you away. You were careful to let the four Avengers go in front of you, and you were certain at least Natasha had noticed this action. Tony kept glancing back to you, slightly nervous. You could accept that. You felt nervous too, though you had gotten good at concealing your nerves, even before you had ‘died’.

You entered the room which had all of the other Avengers in it as well as five empty chairs. You were seated at the end, directly next to Natasha. Steve settled himself in the end chair right next to you. You looked at the rest of the group who were all doing a terrible job of pretending not to stare at you.

“Alright, Specter. Should we call you Specter?” You nodded, letting Steve continue. “Your conditions are questionable to say the least. We need to figure out if you’re actually telling the truth about this weapon first.”

“That’s fine,” you began, “I’d do the same.” You opened up your file, noting how there was a small camera above you, casting a picture of the file onto a board at the front of the room. You smiled at the innovation, curious about how exactly it worked. It had been a while since you’d gotten to appreciate technology, and where better than the home of a Stark.

“This is a real file. I worked on this project years ago. It was meant to help heal people. Stitch them back together, even when they were on the brink of death. But it malfunctioned. I can tell you this is real. Check any references you like, though it’ll be hard to get your hands on. We never made digital copies, this is our original paper.”

Tony squinted at the paper, seeming confused by it.

“And by we, you mean…?” Another man trailed off. You recognized him as Hawkeye, though you hadn’t memorized their actual names.

“Me and Howard Stark. We worked on it back during the war, it was like our pet project.” Tony seemed less confused now.

“That was over half a century ago. How exactly are you standing here?” You sighed at Hawkeye’s question.

“It’s a rather long and annoying story. Let’s keep it simple and say I’ve effectively scared off death.”

“Guys,” Tony said, still looking at the projection of the file. The room turned to him and you were thankful for whatever subject change he had to offer. “I’d love to say she’s full of it, but I know my father’s handwriting. That’s his signature too at the bottom.” As he pointed the small camera zoomed in. You’d have to ask him about the technology’s design later. Assuming this actually went well. You slightly cringed at the thought of speaking to a Stark again, but you’d manage for the sake of a new discovery. “Hey, Friday?”

“Yes Boss?”

You heard a woman’s voice in the room that didn’t belong to anyone present. You quickly figured out it was an AI system Stark had made.

“How well does that match Howard’s handwriting?”

There was a beat of silence before the AI, Friday, spoke again.

“It’s a perfect match.”

The team didn’t seem to know if that was good or bad.

“So there’s really someone set on ending humanity?” A man said across the table. You remembered his moniker being something bird themed, like Hawkeye’s, but it wasn’t coming to you.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be anywhere near this place unless absolutely necessary,” You said. The Captain glanced around the table and the group seemed to silently make their decision.

“Alright. We’ll meet your terms, but understand that you must stay here through his whole process. No ‘missions’ of your own.” You thought over his offer. It was slightly tempting. Though you’d miss your little hunt for criminals, it would be nice to have a house for longer than a week.

“Fine. But you can’t bind my powers or spy on me or some bullshit.” The Captain nodded, agreeing.

Suddenly, you were a temporary Avenger.

***

“I don’t like her. She’s too calm. We’re facing a giant death machine and she’s completely stone faced.” You could overhear the conversation from where you stood outside the Avengers common area. Natasha had offered to show you around and you had denied, instead accepting a map and list of locations you’d be interested in.

They were sitting around in a circle of couches, all facing each other. Some of the members seemed distracted. Like one with long hair who was slowly stroking the spine of a book he carried in his hands and another with a striking metal arm. You had to admit, the team was certainly good-looking.

You continued to listen to the conversation, though you had lost a bit of the argument when you retreated into your thoughts.

“What can we do? I’m hardly happy about this, but she’s holding the world hostage, like you said. Millions might die if he didn’t have that info.”

“And what, we’re trusting a serial killer? She’s murdered who know’s how many people and we’re supposed to just sit here and fucking sing Kumbaya?!” Tony said. You could see his point. You wouldn’t trust you either.

“Many of us have killed.” Loki said, offering some perspective and hoping someone else would continue his point. He was still on ‘house-arrest’ and was hardly considered trustworthy. Stark wouldn’t listen no matter how silver his tongue was. But the others seemed to at least consider his words with the exception of Hawkeye who seemed upset that he even had to hear Loki’s voice.

“He’s right Stark. I’d hardly say my hands are clear, but here I am.” Natasha added, taking up Loki’s silent offer to continue his argument.

“I’m not okay with this. She’s absolutely mental. I can’t find anything on her besides media speculation. SHIELD didn’t have anything on her, despite the fact that she’s a well-known criminal and she’s got no history. No names attached, nothing. Just media speculation which is all made up. I checked.”

You took this time to walk out from the hall, the click of your shoes making the group look up. “It’s because you have the spelling wrong.” The entire team looked nervous at being caught. “Don’t feel bad. Of course you’d talk about me, I’m a stranger in your midst.” That seemed to calm some of them down, though they still looked wary of you. Stark was the first to speak.

“We’ve got the spelling wrong?” He asked.

“I’d expect so. You’re spelling my name as ‘Specter’, a ghost, like the media does. Try S-P-E-C-T-R, you’ll find a little more.” You before turning and walking out of the room. While you weren’t excited about opening up your backstory, it’d make this whole ‘trust’ thing a lot quicker. And if you were going to get anywhere, there’d need to be some sort of trust.

***

Project SPECTR - August, 1940

Howard Stark and Dr. Y/n L/n began SPECTR in August of 1940 and have been working on it for three years now.

It’s expected to help Allies win the war, though Dr. L/n believes it could— and should— be used for other purposes. There have been several malfunctions so far and I am unsure how they will continue. Stark has been promoting the idea among generals and strategists, despite the lack of finished product. Dr. L/n suspects it will not be finished by the time Stark suggests, in two weeks. She has told various generals not to expect anything in two weeks, though all generals seem to unfortunately favor Stark’s estimates. They plan to run a test run in one week and fully activate the machine. Both Stark and Dr. L/n hope it will be completely stable for at least ten minutes.

There was a messy signature at the bottom, though Steve identified it quickly as ‘Margaret Carter’.

They read through a few other files, and learned more about the original project. Reportedly, there was a severe malfunction, resulting in Dr. L/n’s death. Peggy had shut down the project immediately after, despite Howard’s begging that it would still work. There had apparently been a rift in their friendship over Dr. L/n’s death.

It also said that the Doctor’s body had disappeared in 1992, only weeks after Howard’s death, which had sparked a few conspiracy theories for those aware of her connection to Stark and Carter, two famous names. She was a leading scientist and was making seriously impressive strides. Stark was disappointed she had died so soon. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would’ve done.

“Is that Specter?” Sam asked about the Doctor working on the project. Though the team seemed unsure of the answer, Steve responded.

“It must be. Why else would she draw our attention to this. She’s got personal experience with whoever is trying to restart the project, though I’m not entirely certain why a machine to heal people will be turned into a new weapon.”

The team tossed theories back and forth and you listened in, smiling when a few of them guessed right. You slipped away soon after though, heading down the hall to the training room.

#loki x reader #loki #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #loki x reader x bucky #inure #saved work #fanfic

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seijurosempress · 4 years ago

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@shoichee I hope this meets your expectations✨ (Bc I refuse to tolerate any more bullying today. Also- Matchup under the cut)

First, I just want to say- I’m sorry. (but not really). I know our love for Hayama runs deep but the moment you choose violence with him, that’s it for you. RIP. It was nice knowing you 😔 But, remember when we first spoke and I asked you if you shipped yourself with Imayoshi and you refused to answer my question? Well- [Insert ‘Surprise shawty’ tik tok audio]

Best Match: Imayoshi Shoichi

Your subconscious knew what it was doing when you picked out your URL. The moment you said you related to Dazai and then proceeded to talk about socioeconomic issues revolving around globalization while we simultaneously talked about dumb stuff I knew there were only a few guys that could handle your energy and Imayoshi hands down tops that list

Even though Hanamiya out of all people might say Imayoshi doesn’t have the best personality, I actually think you two can balance each other out and understand each other in a way other people may not be able to

Honestly, right off the bat, y’all will probably bond over some form of teasing. Whether it’s making some remark aimed directly at the other, or one of you takes a jab at someone else and the other happens to overhear, it will be the start of a beautiful relationship

Gemini and Leo’s have really good chemistry so it’s no surprise you’ll manage to get along, regardless of your- argumentative natures.

You two are like the two sides of the same coin. While he presents himself as a kind and easy going person, speaking politely to others- until he inevitable shows them his real personality- you, on the other hand, can come off a little cold and critical, scaring people off when you first meet them even though you’re genuinely kind and easy going once you start to talk to them

If you guys meet purely by chance, maybe you’re in the same class, you’re introduced because of a mutual friend, or because one of you overheard the other, the moment you hear how the other carries themselves in a conversation will automatically peek your interest.

Have you ever seen that meme where they’re like “oh you wanna kiss me so bad”? yea, that’s you two. I can see you getting into the most amusing squabble, just trying to throw the other one off, Imayoshi smirking if and when one of his comments goes right over your head

You’re both pretty smart (I spent a solid hour trying to double check this and still failed but I’m like 80% sure his IQ is pretty up there) so I can see you two meeting because of that too

Scenario:

Imayoshi is just minding his business, checking the updated class rankings posted in the hall across your classroom. Why? He doesn’t know, if he’s being honest. It’s not like anyone could ever surpass him, he’s been at the top of his class each time since his firs- What’s this? He got bumped down? Who the hell are you? Wait no, he knows who you are. He’s heard your name before countless times, mostly followed by your voice as it traveled throughout the hallways, your laugh bubbling out of your small frame soon after in reply to whichever friend had just made a funny remark. Funny. You didn’t seem all that smart at first glance, could he have actually... made a mistake? His gaze flickers to the other side of the hall where he immediately found you, eyes wide and a small smile adorning your features as you listened to your classmate speak. A low hum escapes him as he analyzes your appearance once more. He notices the way your makeup highlighted your already attractive features, the small accessories added to your uniform making you look put together and stylish. Maybe he had underestimated you, he though as he saw you take your turn to speak, your answer leaving your classmate open mouthed with a baffled expression. He felt the slight tug on his lips, the beginning of a small smirk forming on his face as you smiled widely at the response you had gotten. However, the amusement only lasted a split second, his features falling in disbelief when you turned around, tripping over your own feet and falling face first into the open classroom door. “What are you staring at?” Someone, probably Sato, asks as he strolls up beside him. “Nothing” he sighs, adjusting his glasses on his face. Is it really nothing though? a small voice inside him asks just as a series of curse words and noises fall from your lips, eliciting his own to quirk up into an amused, lopsided smile. Even if it is “nothing” for now, don’t be surprised when both of you “coincidentally” find yourselves bumping into each other more often from now on as he tries to figure you out.

I can see him realizing he has feelings for you while you two are hanging out. Maybe you two will be studying after you asked him to tutor you in math since it’s his best subject, or well, attempting to study at least as you’re nearing half an hour of your 5 minute snack break. He’ll probably be doodling in his notebook while you scroll through Instagram, and it’s not until he looks up to see you so focused on whatever was on the other side of the screen, your fingers quickly tapping away as a smile pulled at your lips that he asks what you’re doing. Without a second thought, you absentmindedly tell him about whatever argument you’re getting into in the comments section under a random photo you came across before you’re back to focusing on the matter at hand.

His whole trademark is that he’s good at analyzing people, and as a Gemini, he is not an exception to his own skills. He’ll suddenly come to the realization that, while he enjoys pushing people’s buttons, he enjoys the thought of you two being a team even more. While you can be loud and social, making and laughing at jokes, you also know when to get serious and get stuff done, something that that he would appreciate considering he likes respectful and considerate girls.

The problem now is- he may be aware of his feelings...but are you?

He’ll probably try out multiple ways to hint at his feelings towards you but they’ll just go right over your head. In your mind, you can’t see anyone having any romantic feelings towards you and sure he may be acting a little weird, but you’d probably just shrug it off as it being all in your imagination.

Meanwhile the whole time Imayoshi is just standing there like- Is she serious? No one can be this oblivious???? but yet ✨here you are✨

Now it’s his turn to be frustrated by your conversations because you’re just not getting it? So he decides to try something more straight forward. Girls like pickup lines, right?

He could literally see the moment your brain stopped working. Your face flushed red as a nervous giggle bubbled out of you. All common sense left your body as you made finger guns at him, giving him a slight nod before turning around and walking quickly out the room

it would take you a few minutes to collect yourself, strolling back in the room 30 minutes later, leaning against the same spot you left him moments prior and giving him a pickup line of your own. *queue Imayoshi’s mischievous smirk* “Oh? Is that so?” (he’s such a little shit he’ll probably pretend like he didn’t say anything first to get back at you)

I can see this going back and forth for a while until he finally asks you out on a date, but this time he’ll make sure to do it in a way that will prevent you from escaping and leaving him alone and confused again

Your PDA is most likely kept to a minimum, partly because of your Venus in Virgo and partly because he doesn’t like spontaneity. Your outward relationship will consist of hand holding and pecks but that doesn’t mean your private life remains the same, just because you’re dating now doesn’t mean you’re suddenly immune to his habits or him to yours

You say you want to spend some quality time together? “How about a movie night?” he asks, his smile deceiving you long enough to trap you in his arms as a scary movie plays in his blacked out bedroom. “I don’t like scary movies” you whine, your body pressing into his and a pout pulling at your lips as he “innocently” chuckles, “Oh really? I must have forgotten”

You say you’re a bit cynical about relationships but I think it’s because your Neptune, Pluto and Lilith are ruled by air signs. This means you enjoy spontaneity and creativity in what you do and therefore always gravitate to doing things in which your outcome depends on yourself and not other people. Imayoshi is the kind of person that respects other people’s needs as we can see when he allows Aomine to skip practice if that’s what works for him. This will help you maintain a healthy balance in your relationship, allowing you to be able to feel more at ease and not trapped or like you have to be a certain way with one another

You decide to keep pursuing dancing? He’s proud of you, and will not hesitate to show off and boast about your achievements to the rest of the team

You had a rough week and you want to spend the whole day gaming with headphones on? It’s fine he’ll take the opportunity to relax and go fishing

On the other hand, you want to go shopping? Suddenly he’ll find himself walking hand in hand with you as you and his sister stop at every single store only to leave with more bags that you can carry.

At first, you would insist you could both take care of yourselves at the mall, but he soon found out that you two should not be left alone. She might be his sister but she’s younger and impressionable and she looks up to you? And you can be a bit scatterbrained so you lose track of her time so you always end up bringing her back really late, along with an armful of shopping bags that he’ll only have to go back and return within the week because being hasty runs in his family and his sister didn’t pay much attention to how much money she was spending

Overall- I think that what really makes you a good match is your ability to communicate with one another. Both of you are pretty honest and straightforward (although your executions are vastly different) which will help you navigate through any obstacles in your relationship

You keep each other on your toes and bring fun into your relationship while also settling down, talking about serious stuff and getting genuine advice from one another when you need it the most. The balance you maintain allowing a stable foundation for the relationship to grow and blossom. He did something hasty? It’s okay, you know exactly what to do to fix it. Someone keeps hitting on you insistently? He’s already walked over to intimidate him to go away. You want to spend quality time together but he wants to go fishing? There you are by his side, scribbling in your notebook and reciting your poetry to him as he listens carefully with a small smile on his face that you’ll definitely not tease him about later. You need help with your math again? he’ll tutor you in exchange for you making him a bento with his favorite meal. Until he learns that you somehow burned half the rice and left the other half uncooked. Perfect balance of give and take.

Bonus: Takao Kazunari

You are literally the girl version of Takao omg. (I literally JUST got your message about being the new Takao too smh I know I’m slow but let me finish this first)

You two are so alike and you would make the most chaotic duo but as much as I want to ship you two, I can just see you two being really good friends so I feel the need to include him in this

Midorima would be so done with your shit, he’d probably see you two together and immediately turn around and start walking the other way because he just KNOWS you’re bound to gang up and bully him

The first time you saw is lucky item you probably burst out laughing and thought he was joking until you saw his face flush red

After that, every time you ask about it he just grumbles out his answer, still salty about your initial reaction

Takao never fails to remind you either, trying to hold back his laugh whenever you try to make it up to Midorima but he ends up ignoring you, or you somehow just manage to make it worse

When it’s just you and Takao, you could be minding your business when suddenly one of you makes ONE singular little comment and that just sets off the other, adding onto it until both of you are crying with laughter

Honestly, the only time I can see you taking one another seriously is when you’re having discourse

He’s an optimistic person while you’re a realist which can set off some very interesting discussions between the two of you, your argumentative nature leading both of you to talk about anything and everything as you challenge the other’s ideologies

If you decide to try out a relationship, it’ll be filled with excitement and adrenaline, both of you needing very little persuasion to try out new things

You’ll be his partner in crime and he’ll be yours. You want to mess a bit with your younger neighbors? Why not? You want to go check out the new mall a few town’s over because they have a store you’ve been wanting to check out for months? He’s your man.

While the relationship is fun, you both can get a little ahead of yourselves, going with the flow and getting sucked into your own world; you’ll need someone to ground you

Usually, this role can be plaid by Midorima but it proves to be a bit problematic when he’s nowhere in sight

The amount of times you two have lost track of time or gotten caught up in something because you ran into some friends or even met new people and got lost in conversation, by this point Midorima has probably given up trying to keep track of your whereabouts when you’re together

I wouldn’t be surprised if you two ended up making your own language. He’s good with kids and bad at being quiet while you enjoy making new words and trying out sound effects which he would without a doubt find amusing. You’d probably go as far as to make children believe they’re actual words, could you imagine Midorima’s face when he goes over to Takao’s house and his younger sister starts talking to him in the made up words you taught her

Ultimately while your personalities are very alike, you tend to clash at the wrong points and it would take you working together to compromise to make a romantic relationship work

Both of you surround yourself by others, often finding yourself in the middle of everything, your personality constantly making other people gravitate towards you. This can prove conflicting when you’re together as now you’d have to learn how to share the spotlight, so to say

While you love fashion and makeup and shopping, the poor man just wants to enjoy his trading cards

Although you should use it to your advantage and make him drive you around in Princess Mia’s Midorima’s carriage.

Your might also find yourself more often than not at a crossroads, your realist point of view conflicting with his positivity which can lead to arguments between you two

Overall- a relationship with you would be exciting. There would never be a dull moment and you’d constantly encourage the other to have new experiences and make the most of your time. But moving into a more romantic territory would mean that you’d have to learn how to prioritize things in your life, knowing when to buckle down and get things down and how to successfully come to terms with and work out your differences.

Sidenote: I meant to make these a little longer but my brain cell only has so much KNB knowledge stored in her small little filing cabinet that may or may not be a single folder covered in dust and stuffed in some corner

#matchup request #[🏀].asks #i meant to have this ready early today #but i may or may not have fallen asleep #sorry #i'm slow #it really took me a whole ass week to write #but to be fair #i struggled a bit with your mans #bc I went strictly off what I could gather from the anime #which are CRUMBS

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

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The Catch

Prompt: #199 for anon – “Sorry if I made you cry.”

Anonymous said:

Hi! I don’t know if I did this right, but can I request for the game #199 with JB (got7) please and thank you❤️

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: there is a glossed over sex scene

Word count: 1633

Falling for Jaebum happened far too easily. The first meeting had left you wanting more and apparently it had been the same for him, the man gravitating towards a space in your heart that he claimed within mere weeks of knowing him.

You decided you would fall in love with him, and were on the fast track to doing so.

But something made you hesitate, and it had to do with how easy everything was.

“Surely, there’s a catch,” you murmured as you shifted closer to Jaebum after a delicious meal and night out at the movies. His arm was effortlessly wrapped around you and he glanced down, smiling at you despite the curiosity within his eyes. You grinned. “This is going all too well.”

“Should it not?”

“Well, I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate that it is,” you commented, knitting your brows together as you tried to think of how to word yourself.

“There should be a catch,” Jaebum agreed a moment later. He held up his free hand and started counting his points with his fingers. “You’re funny, gorgeous, passionate, and when we kiss-”

Blushing, you reached out to grab his hand as he chuckled. “The list for you is just as long.”

“Is it?”

“Must I tell you?” you asked, leaning towards his head that had lowered just enough for you to reach his lips. Even kissing had you working together naturally without any awkward moments.

After stealing your breath away, Jaebum rested his forehead on yours. “Tell me more at mine?”

Nodding, you couldn’t help but grow excited at the prospect of this next step in your relationship. Maybe the catch was him himself. You had gotten lucky to have reeled him in thus far, and frankly, you weren’t about to let him go.

That was apparent by the way you held his hand on the trip to his apartment, and all the way to the front door. Jaebum then scratched at his head shyly. “I uh, wasn’t planning on any visitors.”

“It’s good we chose your place and not mine, I’m certain I have dirty laundry on my floor,” you confessed to ease his worries and Jaebum grinned before putting in the code to open the door.

Passion blinded your ability to take in his apartment. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you both, hands moved just as fast as your mouths did, moans leaving you as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you along to what you presumed to be his bedroom. And if you had already thought everything within your relationship had been amazing, you hadn’t been ready for the mind-altering sex that you had that night.

Nor, were you prepared for the stuffiness of your nose and the tears in your eyes when you were done expressing your adoration for one another.

Jaebum frowned lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re crying, Y/N,” he mentioned softly, reaching to wipe away the tears that had seemingly fallen down your cheeks. You blinked rapidly as his dark gaze regarded you. “Sorry was I…?”

“No!” you exclaimed, shaking your hands repeatedly. “No, I enjoyed every moment with you.”

Jaebum still didn’t relax. “I’ve never had a partner cry after sex.”

“I’m not normally one to do so either. My nose just feels really stuffy.”

“Are you feeling unwell?” he wondered, sitting up and half out of the bed in a panic, evidently trying to think of what to give you.

“I don’t think so,” you murmured, taking his hand and stopping him from leaving you. “Hold me?”

Smiling, despite the concern still within his eyes, Jaebum slipped back under the covers and pulled you to his chest, sighing in content as he stroke at your hair repeatedly.

Soon, whatever worries you were having melted away and you fell asleep, completely unaware of what had triggered your reaction in the first place.

However, you were quick to discover it in the morning light. Slowly sitting up, you were aware of several things. Your eyes hurt and were sore to the touch. And your nose was incredibly stuffy.

This would be the catch.

Of course, you would have caught a cold and be embarrassingly sick the morning after sleeping with Jaebum for the first time. If the world could swallow you up whole now, you would have gladly accepted.

Except, as you sat up and took in Jaebum’s belongings, your gaze faulted on something in the corner of his room.

Oh no.

Just then, whilst you were dealing with the turmoil of your discovery, languid kisses began being littered over your bare arm until Jaebum shifted enough to reach the side of your neck. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

“Huh?” you breathed, cringing at how stuffy you sounded.

It was enough to remove the sleep from his eyes, Jaebum soon narrowing his gaze on you. “Y/N, are you...”

“We have a problem,” you explained, quickly covering your mouth and nose as you sneezed. Jaebum immediately felt your forehead and you shook your head against his hand. “I’m allergic to you.”

“To me?” he echoed and you shook your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks grow warm at your mix up.

“To your home.”

“I’m not following.”

Pointing to the cat stand in the corner of the room, you sighed. “I’m allergic to the owner of that.”

“Owners,” Jaebum lamented, and rubbed at his face before laughing bitterly. “You’re allergic to cats?”

“Horribly. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it last night when I started to have all the symptoms. I guess I was too love-drunk by what happened between us.”

Jaebum’s lips slowly curled up. “Love-drunk?”

“Oh, uh-”

“Can you take something for your allergies?” he continued, brushing your hair away from your face.

Nodding, you smiled. “I have medication for it.”

“So you’re not allergic to me.”

“Just your furbabies.”

“Well, they are a part of me,” he said and you nodded.

“I wouldn’t expect you to think differently about them just because I’m allergic.”

Jaebum leaned in to kiss you briefly. “No, but I can make sure to limit things to help you be around me. It’s the catch we were looking for, right?”

You smiled. “Right. Besides, there’s always my home.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he murmured sensually, and then scrunched his face up at you as he pulled away. “Babe, your nose.”

“Oh!” Wiping at it quickly, you then clasped a hand to your head and laughed desperately. “I’m a mess.”

“Thankfully at your house, you won’t have to worry about this.”

“So next time we meet up, do you want to come over?”

Jaebum nodded. “I’m serious about us. What did you say before? I’m love-drunk about us.”

Smiling, you couldn’t wait to enjoy further intimacy with Jaebum, and once you were medicated and in your own home, you’d have no runny nose and red eyes to hold you back from doing so.

Alas, it was Jaebum’s turn to react though.

“Wait, you’re allergic to dogs?” you breathed incredulously, watching your dog Nero bounce around your boyfriend who was trying his best not to touch him. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m not as bad as you, I don’t think,” he mumbled, smiling at Nero’s energy and then looked at you. “But yeah, I’m allergic to dogs.”

“Do you want to go home then? I don’t want you to-”

Kissing you with a hunger that wasn’t meant for the kitchen, your thought process stopped entirely. And then Jaebum sniffled. “Okay, so maybe there’s more to it than I thought.”

You noticed his watery eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry if I made you cry.”

“Well, we did say everything was going too smoothly between us.”

“There had to be an obstacle somewhere along the line,” you concluded, fishing around in your purse before presenting some medication. “Do you take this brand?”

“At least we can commiserate like this, huh?” Taking the medicine and the water you offered him, Jaebum then moved back into your space. “I’m not very attractive right now, am I?”

“I mean, you’re definitely more humanlike. Before, I was certain the Gods had sculpted you themselves.”

Laughing, despite how blocked up he sounded, Jaebum then shook his head. “That was cheesy but I love it – I love you.”

“I love you too,” you responded, grinning with how easily it rolled off the tongue. Jaebum’s expression mirrored yours. “Even if my dog makes you cry.”

“And my cats’ hair makes your nose itch.”

“Do you think we can be together for a long time?” you wondered as Jaebum leaned in closer to you.

“Maybe we’ll grow immune to our allergies.”

“And if we don’t?” you countered, brushing his hair away from his face.

Jaebum laughed. “Then it looks like I’ll be taking medication to be around your dog.”

“It’s a small price to pay since everything else is perfect, right?”

Kissing you, Jaebum nodded. “Besides, we’ve both seen each other looking disgusting after an allergic reaction now. If that doesn’t put us off, nothing will.”

“I happen to like cats a great deal,” you told him with a smile and Jaebum laughed.

“Your dog is pretty cute too.”

“As cute as me?”

Jaebum scooped you up into his arms as you giggled. “Let’s see if after making love if I’m crying like you did or not.”

“Hey! That was because of my allergies!”

“Hm, well for me, it might because of you,” Jaebum announced, waiting for you to give direction to your room.

You hadn’t thought about your pets being the cause to a problem between you both, but knowing that was all that was in your way made you hopeful that the rest would come just as easily as everything else had.

_________________

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 4 years ago

Text

stephanie perkins: ‘anna and the french kiss’

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Then again, if you’ve read any YA book, ever, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to happen.

I was going to go easy on this book; I really was. It’s really unfair how media aimed at a female demographic is seen as frivolous and vapid, and more often than not bashed and bullied when it comes to reviews. “People actually enjoy this crap?” ask the powers that be. “It’s worthless! Pulp! Dreamy-eyed nonsense only complete nimrods could ever like!”

And I take offense to that. There’s nothing wrong with liking romance or happy endings or stories about cute European boys. I was ecstatic when I stumbled across Anna and the French Kiss upon a chance trip to the bookstore. The cover was… meh (Century Gothic? Really? There were no other fonts?). But I’d heard nothing but praise about the book, and I was prepared to stay up all night and into the wee hours of the morning to finish it.

Admittedly, I was far from impressed upon the first reading. The characters were unlikable, the plot would’ve worked better for less shitty characters, honestly fuck these characters am I supposed to like them, fuck Anna, fuck Étienne, fuck Bridgette, fuck Toph, fuck Dave and Meredith and Amanda and Seany and every other stupid character in this stupid book.

The second time around, I expected to not hate it as much as I did when I first read it. It’s happened- I hated Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda when I first read it, and when I read it again, all that red-hot anger simmered down into an overall dislike. I thought To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before was trash at first, and then I read it again, and it got promoted to recyclable waste matter.

I found Anna and the French Kiss horrendous the first time I read it, and then I read it again, and… yeah, it’s still pretty awful.

Le Sommaire:

Anna Oliphant is a seventeen-year-old wannabe film critic who is #NotLikeOtherGirls – so she’s exactly like every other female YA lead. To her credit, she never explicitly says she’s special… everyone around her does.

She has a pretty meh life in Atlanta, Georgia with her mum and little bruv Sean- and then her dad decides to ship her off to France for her final year of high school. I’m not judging Anna for bawling her eyes out on her first day; I’m a huge mummy’s girl myself and I’d probably (definitely) do the same.

Meredith is Anna’s next-door neighbor, who does that thing which only happens in YA where she’s like “Oh, newbie? Let’s be friends!” (Or maybe it does happen irl and I tend to make a bad first impression which is why no one has ever approached me.)

Meredith’s friends are: Rashmi and Josh (who are a couple), and Étienne St. Clair. Guess which one is the love interest.

Étienne is cultured in that white person way where he’s half American, one quarter French and one quarter British. A true international.

But- *gasp*- American-British-French boy has a girlfriend, Ellie.

Anna has an absolutely gorgeous punk rocker (yum) boy with sideburns (yikes) back home named Christopher. Also, Christopher’s nickname is ‘Toph’ instead of ‘Chris’ because he too is #NotLikeOtherGirls. Anna tells us that nothing will happen between her and Étienne.

Anna is wrong.

Meredith has a crush on Étienne. So does the Regina George of the school, Amanda.

Étienne and Anna have some moments ™.

♫ Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but Anna ♫

I tear my hair out in frustration.

Several other white boys vie for Anna’s heart. Anna remains blissfully unaware (♫ that’s what makes you beautiful ♫). Étienne (who is still dating Ellie, mind you) is unreasonably agitated by this.

Étienne’s mum has cancer btw, which excuses all the shitty things he does, because he’s just a poor, misunderstood boy.

Ellie dresses up as a, quote unquote, ‘slutty nurse’ for Hallowe’en, though- so it’s perfectly okay to dislike her (even though, in the first interaction she had with Anna, where Ellie meets Anna and Étienne, after Étienne takes Anna to the movies, Ellie is perfectly sweet).

Anna, however, is NOT a slut. Amanda is, though. And Rashmi’s cold. And Meredith’s desperate. And Emily’s a slut, too. And her friend Bridgette from Atlanta is a traitor. Anna has an intense case of internalized misogyny.

Anna’s friend Bridgette from Atlanta is screwing Toph, and Anna throws a fit.

Étienne and Anna have some more moments ™.

A truly chaotic series of events befall Anna. She somehow winds up dating Dave (one from the harem of white boys who likes her) to spite Étienne, she gets into a fight with Amanda, more drama ensues, there’s a hint for a spinoff, Étienne and her kiss, Meredith sees and feels betrayed… several misunderstandings and more bullshit later, Étienne and Anna wind up together, because true love conquers all.

Mes Réflexions:

(If the French is off, blame Google Translate.)

Usually, it takes me half a page of my notebook to scribble down my thoughts about the book I’m reading. This motherfucker took me almost an entire page.

Granted, a solid 30% of those notes are me throwing insults at Étienne, but still. ‘STOP STOP STOP YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND YOU DICK’ counts, right?

(That was #17 in my notes, by the way.)

For the record, I like Stephanie Perkins’s writing. It’s not as over-the-top and unnecessarily introspective as Jenny Han’s in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and the interactions between Anna and her classmates were natural and not the “How do you do, fellow kids?” style of Becky Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The pacing is decent- I didn’t feel like it was too rushed; not the insta-love trope most YA romances unfortunately fall prey to.

And yet. AND YET.

Anna: “What’s your problem?” Amanda: “You.”

Same, Amanda, same.

Anna Oliphant is one of my least favorite leads in a book, ever. Étienne’s even shittier. And it’s not like Nick or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl, or any of the main characters from The Secret History, where readers pretty much unanimously hate them. You’re meant to relate to Anna, you’re meant to find Étienne charming and dreamy. I literally had to put the book away and calm myself down several times- especially in the last quarter of the book.

One of my main gripes with Anna is how… dumb she is. I guess Anna’s “Oopsies, silly me, I don’t know French!” is meant to be relatable to the readers. And some parts (like her not knowing how to order food because she can’t speak French) are plausible, but- sis, you didn’t know how to spell oui? And my idea of a cinematic masterpiece is Kung-Fu Panda, but even a dumbass like me knows that France is the film appreciation capital of the world. And yet Anna, a self-professed film freak, doesn’t?

Of course, Anna’s gorgeous, but she has no clue, because of course she doesn’t- even though she has multiple guys falling head over heels for her.

I’m in a short skirt. It’s the first time I’ve worn one here, but my birthday seems like the appropriate occasion. “Woo, Anna!” Rashmi fake-adjusts her glasses. “Why do you hide those things?”

Étienne is staring at my legs. The scales covering them throb under his intense gaze, and the pincers sticking out of my thighs start clicking rapidly in arousal. My hooves shiver in ecstasy.

… sorry, that’s not funny.

Her friends think Anna’s weird for wanting to write film reviews (which is the most contrived thing I’ve ever heard) instead of being the next Margot Robbie or whatever, but of course Étienne doesn’t and he thinks it’s not weird and cool and that Anna is such a special snowflake.

(Man, I sound like Amanda.)

And then we have this spiel by Anna about how she got into film critiquing (?), because we the readers need to know how special and #NotLikeOtherGirls Anna is.

To this, I say, “Piss off, you pretentious fuck.”

Of course, Anna’s a virgin and she’s never gotten drunk before or worn short skirts- she’s not a slut, she shaves below the knees only.

And would YA really be YA without several hearty helpings of internalized misogyny?

First up, we have the bimbo; the Barbie doll archetype whose only goal in life is acquiring the main guy (who is quite obviously uninterested in her), and making life hell for our protagonist. Amanda Whatsername (is she ever given a surname?) has this coveted role in Anna and the French Kiss. She’s blond (because of course she is); the first time we meet her, she’s in a, quote unquote, ‘teeny tank top’, and she also ‘positions herself for maximum cleavage exposure’. She’s always flipping her hair, getting her grubby paws on Étienne, giving Anna the stink-eye, being homophobic and a grade-A bitch.

Meredith goes batshit when Anna and Étienne kiss, and is very pouty and unhappy during prior Anna x Shittiene moments. Honey… he’s just not that into you. Rashmi’s the Ice Queen reincarnate and halfway to bitchdom. Anna doesn’t go as hard on them as she does on literally every other female her age in the book, though.

Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.

Anna, hate to break it to you, but not everyone’s a possessive fucking weirdo.

About Cherrie, her ex-boyfriend Matt’s new girlfriend:

And maybe Cherrie isn’t as bad as I remember. Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company, I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.

Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes. What does Matt see in her?

Even Bridgette, Anna’s best friend from Atlanta, isn’t immune to Anna’s anti-female propaganda. She’s screwing the guy Anna used to like, and Anna, the hypocrite, throws a huge fit.

For context: Bridgette and Toph are in a band called the Penny Dreadfuls (why is it with YA books and horrible band names? ‘Emoji’ from Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was bad enough), and Anna + Matt + Cherrie go to a bowling alley to see them perform. After the performance, Toph announces that he’s sleeping with Bridge, and Anna confronts Bridge… onstage.

“… You’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and… he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in the bedroom?

I’m going to be sick.

Give me a goddamn break.

Anna, about Ellie:

To my amazement, Ellie breaks into an ear-to-ear smile. Oddly enough, it’s this moment I realize that despite her husky voice and Parisian attire, she’s sort of… plain. But friendly-looking.

That still doesn’t mean I like her.

“Anna! From Atlanta, right? Where’d you guys go?”

She knows who I am? St. Clair describes our evening while I contemplate this strange development. Did he tell her about me? Or was it Meredith? I hope it was him, but even if it was, it’s not like he said anything she found threatening. She doesn’t seem alarmed that I’ve spent the last three hours in the company of her very attractive boyfriend. Alone.

[about Ellie’s Hallowe’en costume] Slutty nurse. I don’t believe it. Tiny white button-up dress, red crosses across the nipples. Cleavage city.

If I didn’t like Ellie before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn’t matter that I can count how many times we’ve met on one hand.

I fantasize about their break-up. How he could hurt her, and she could hurt him, and all of the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.

It turns out I am not a nice person.

YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.

Emily Middlestone bends over to pick up a dropped eraser, and Mike Reynard leers at her breasts. Gross. Too bad for him she’s interested in his best friend, Dave. The eraser drop was deliberate, but Dave is oblivious.

One of the juniors, a girl with dark hair and tight jeans, stretches in a move designed to show off her belly button ring to Paul/Pete. Oh, please.

And I’m meant to like this character? I’m supposed to root for her?

I’m not saying every girl in the book should be perfectly sweet and friendly- that’s just not realistic. But when Anna has something judgmental to say about every other young female character… maybe she’s the problem.

In fact, the only girl I recall getting a pass is Isla Whatsername. And why do you think?

Brilliant.

And now we have the amalgamation of almost every fanfic boyfriend trope from 2014, Étienne St. Clair. Brown-eyed Harry Styles. I can’t fucking wait.

Étienne could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or abolished poverty, or volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. He could’ve been the most virtuous guy around (fret not; he decidedly isn’t). And I still wouldn’t’ve thought of him as the man of my dreams because HE HAS A BLOODY GIRLFRIEND.

I mean, which girl doesn’t want her boyfriend to say:

“I cheated on her every day. In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t have, again and again.”

Fuckin’ smooth, bro.

“No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was, I wouldn’t actually cheat on her. But I thought you’d know.”

Such a gentleman!

“So you can keep dating Ellie, but I can’t even talk to Dave?”

Étienne looks shamed. He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what to do with his apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. And this time, he’s looking at me. Begging me. “And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need more time. To sort things out.”

And this gem:

“If you liked me so much, why didn’t you break up with her?”

“I’ve been confused. I’ve been so stupid.”

*me, banging pots and pans together* F U C K Y O U

“Ellie’s not like you, Anna; she’s a slut and a whore even though I’m the one who’s been thinking about another girl inappropriately and I’m the one who gets my knickers in a twist when another man glances in your direction because my masculinity is extremely fragile and I’m a total hypocrite and a dickhead.”

I mean, he didn’t actually say that, but that’s the gist.

WHILE DATING ELLIE: he gets Anna a book of sexual love poems, he calls her attractive (“Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you.”) multiple times, he gets jealous whenever another guy so much as breathes in Anna’s direction and constantly interrupts such interactions, he’s been ditching his friends for his girlfriend but suddenly decides he prefers a new girl over said girlfriend, he thinks bread pudding tastes good- in conclusion, he is a Massive Fucking Prick. Though in hindsight, him and Anna deserve each other. They’re awful.

I had loads more notes taken down (Anna using Dave; “The important thing is this: Dave is available. St. Clair is not.”); the implication that cheating is okay because Ellie is bad or whatever, even though the sudden change in her character seems contrived because she was perfectly okay with Étienne and Anna hanging out before; how my blood boils whenever I read an American book and American girls are like “oOoOh AcCenT!!!1!!1!!”; me reading “DAVE SAYS YER A SLUTBAG” in Hagrid’s voice; the sheer atrocity of the name ‘Étienne St. Clair’ (sounds like a caricature of a French person)… but this ‘review’ is already pushing 3k and I can’t be fucked to expand on any of those points.

Verdict (which is apparently the same in French):

Who needs Christopher when Étienne St. Clair is in the world?

Speak for yourself.

#books #book review #anna and the french kiss #Stephanie Perkins #french #france #parisian #paris #YA #young adult #romance #teen fiction #bad books

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jlalafics · 5 years ago

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“Baptism”-an Everlark one-shot

Hello! Was it possible? Could I fit all three requested sentence prompts into one story?

I did.

Anyway, the three prompts I was given are:

“Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” (Anon request)

“What took you so long? I missed you…” (From @omercilessmoon)

“If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter.” (Anon request)

I hope I did all of you justice.

Happy Reading!

Also, thank you to @keelaree for my bomb cover. Love you!

Summary: “Katniss didn’t know if it was kismet or just plain bad luck but she and Peeta Mellark always found themselves on the opposite of a baptismal font, one of them holding a white clad infant and wondering which one of their idiot friends thought they would make good godparents.”

_______

Baptism

The Baptism of Josephine Lily Hawthorne

The church bells rang atop the Church of St. Anne as people gathered inside dressed in their Sunday best. In the first few pews sat the excited parents, Gale and Madge Hawthorne, along with their families.

Madge, in a rose dress, smiled in greeting to anyone who came into the church, showing off the dark-haired Josephine dressed in a multi-tier white dress and matching bonnet. Beside her, Gale greeted everyone stoically, a hint of pride in his smoky eyes.

However as soon as they were alone, his face fell into a mask of anxiety.

“I’m going to kill him,” Gale whispered to his wife.

“Not if I get to him first,” Madge replied through clenched teeth. “Thank God, Katniss is always a stickler about being on time.”

They were twenty minutes past their allotted time. Besides them, there were two other families waiting for their babies to get baptized.

Gale turned to the entrance doors behind them just as Katniss peeked in to shake her head.

“Dead,” the man swore to his wife. “There’s going to be a funeral right after this baptism.”

++++++

In the church vestibule, Katniss paced as one of the parish attendants closed the door so the service could begin.

“Every fucking time,” she swore quietly.

Why did Peeta always do this?

On the other hand, why were they always picked?

Actually, Katniss already knew why.

She was single. Peeta was single.

Everyone else in their group of friends had already put a ring on it and then reproduced.

Finnick and Annie Odair were first, getting married right out of university. Gale and Madge’s wedding happened two years later to which she played Best Woman to Peeta’s Man of Honor.

Recently, her own sister had betrayed her by marrying Cato, Peeta’s former roommate. The two were currently finishing up their Hawaiian honeymoon while the rest of them celebrated the blessed event of watching Joey Hawthorne getting water splashed on her sweet little head.

The sounds of rushed footsteps broke her from her reverie, and she turned to see Peeta running over to join her.

Katniss crossed his arms as he slowed. “What took you so long? I missed you…”

Peeta raised a brow as he buttoned his suit jacket. “You did?”

“Fuck no! I’m just tired of freezing my tits off waiting for you to show up,” she growled at him. “They want both godparents there before they can bathe the baby!”

“Katniss, please. You’re in church and God doesn’t appreciate your filthy mouth,” he replied, his tone heavy with snark. “Though it is one of your better attributes.” Peeta grinned. “Your tits too, but I’ll only admit that because we’re in the house of God—”

He was quickly silenced as Katniss grabbed his crotch and squeezed…hard.

“Listen,” she hissed, her face inches from his. “You are a giant pain in my ass but, for some reason, we are always stuck together. I would appreciate it if you would just do me the courtesy of not making me and the entire party wait while you do whatever the hell you do.” His mouth opened in an attempt to speak and she tightened her grip. “Do you understand?”

Peeta’s face had gone stark white, though his glare was as biting as ever. “You bit—”

“Hey guys?”

Katniss quickly released Peeta from her death grip and turn to find Gale peeking his head out.

“We’re ready for you,” he said. Gale’s face suddenly went scarlet. “Also, the sound really carries through the whole church…”

Katniss’ jaw dropped. “How much did they hear?”

“How much should I donate?” Peeta asked as he tried to smooth down the creases in his pants.

“Everything and enough to pay for Joey’s first year of college,” Gale told them. “Now, get in.”

Chastised, the two followed their friend down the aisle and to the baptismal font where Madge waited with their goddaughter. The woman glared at Peeta before handing Joey to him carefully.

From across the font, Katniss watched him as he gazed down at Joey, a smile lighting up his face. In turn, Joey cooed at her godfather.

She couldn’t help but smile at the charming pair—

“Katniss?”

Her eyes went to Gale, his grey eyes panicked as he leaned towards her.

“Father just asked if you renounce Satan…and you didn’t respond.”

“Oh—" She looked to the priest. “I totally renounce him!”

Her eyes went to the ground, trying to ignore the quiet snicker coming from across the baptismal post.

Katniss didn’t know if it was kismet or just plain bad luck but she and Peeta Mellark always found themselves on the opposite of a baptismal font, one of them holding a white clad infant and wondering which one of their idiot friends thought they would make good godparents.

++++++

The Hawthorne Residence

“That shit was hilarious!” Annie cackled as they sat at the kitchen table, eating some leftover cake from the reception. “They asked you if you renounced Satan and there was twenty-second pause!”

“I am horrified.” Katniss forked a hefty piece of cake before plopping it into her mouth. She looked to the woman loading dishes into the dishwasher. “Your parents must be horrified, Madge. I am so sorry.”

“It was actually kind of funny,” Madge told her easily. “I told my side of the family that you were Gale’s first choice for godmother. Hazelle, however, has probably lit a dozen candles for you.”

“Well, she’s known me since I was kid so I’m pretty sure she’s lit more than a dozen for me,” Katniss retorted.

There was a flurry of tiny steps as Nolan Odair rushed into the kitchen, jumping into his mother’s lap and burying his little face into her chest. She, in turn, affectionately caressed his dark locks and placed a kiss atop his head.

Another set of footsteps followed as Finnick stepped into the kitchen, a smirk rising on his handsome face as his green eyes settled on Katniss.

“Hey Katniss! Do you renounce Satan?”

“If he’ll help me get rid of your annoying butt,” she deadpanned before digging in for more cake.

Gale walked into the room along with Peeta. “Be nice to him.”

The latter still held their Goddaughter in his arms and Joey, now fully awake, looked pretty content. Katniss had to admit that Peeta had that special charm about him. She watched him through their college years captivate women, both young and old.

No one was immune to Peeta Mellark.

Except for her.

“And, why should I be nice?” Katniss asked her friend.

“Because he’s going to be a Dad again,” Peeta informed her.

Annie looked to her husband. “I thought we were going to tell them together!”

“We were!” Finnick turned to Peeta. “How did you know?”

“Annie hates chocolate cake,” the man replied. “And she’s wolfing it down like there’s no tomorrow.” Leaning down, Peeta kissed their friend’s cheek. “Congratulations Annie. Here’s hoping that you’ll have the girl you want so Finnick will finally leave you alone.”

Finnick looked aghast. “How dare you. She seduced me!”

Annie grinned, looking to her husband. “It’s true. Couldn’t keep my hands off him.”

The rest of the group all congratulated the couple, each one raising a glass of wine or, in Nolan’s case, a juice box, to the second time parents.

Afterwards, they all settled back, and Katniss reached to get another piece of cake.

“This tastes amazing,” she mused, her eyes closing and a content hum vibrating against her lips. “I just want to rub up on the person who made it.”

“Oh God, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” She opened her eyes to find Peeta staring, his blue eyes full of mirth at the sight of her. He handed Joey to Madge before removing his suit jacket. “Do you really mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About rubbing up on the person who made that cake,” he replied as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves to fold them up.

Katniss watched; each fold revealed his forearms for her perusal. “Why?”

He sat across from her, taking her fork to cut a piece of cake before placing it in his mouth.

“Because I made it.”

She was faintly aware that the fork had previously been engulfed in her mouth; that she had licked chocolate off the same spears that were between his lips.

Katniss shook her head. “You lie.”

“It’s true,” Madge told her from the counter as she rocked Joey. “Peeta’s family owns a bakery.”

“No kidding.” She couldn’t help but smile as Peeta’s cheeks colored. “Why did I never know this when we were in college?”

“Because you were too busy in college to even look at me,” he replied quietly.

Katniss grinned. “If I had known, maybe I would’ve sucked up to you more.”

Peeta groaned, trying not to smile. “You’re killing me.”

“Plus, Peeta was getting enough sucking in college, if you know what I mean,” Finnick informed her gaily.

The smile fell off her face. “Moment over.”

“Damn you, Finnick!” Peeta looked to her, crestfallen. “So…no rubbing?”

Katniss snorted. “I’m afraid not today.”

However, she left with half the cake.

++++++

The Abernathy Institute of Aging

“Hello, Mags. I’m Dr. Katniss Everdeen.” She sat beside the older woman’s bed. “How are you today?”

“I’m alright, I suppose,” Mags replied softly. “Do you know when my husband is visiting?”

Mags’ husband had passed away several years ago.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with the nurses—do you know what month it is?”

“September,” the woman answered.

It was July.

“Thanks for reminding me.” Katniss gave her a smile. “It’s about lunchtime. Did you have any requests?”

“I’m fine,” Mags told her kindly. “My Harris will be bringing my lunch. We eat every meal together, you know.”

“Alright.” Katniss stood up. “I’ll give you some time to get ready for your visit. Thanks for speaking with me.”

As soon as she stepped out into the clinic’s hallway, Dr. Haymitch Abernathy, her mentor, joined her side.

“How was she today?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“Better in terms of her mood as she was completely stable during our interaction,” Katniss told him before frowning. “However, she’s forgotten about Harris’ passing again. When she remembers, it’s going to be difficult.”

“If she remembers. Her memory has deteriorated quickly in the last six months.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Abernathy,” she replied. “I know how much she means to you.”

“She was a fine neighbor who was always kind to the wayward young man next door,” he said with a grin. “And she did introduce me to her pretty niece.”

“Yeah—I mean, Effie is way too good for you,” Katniss replied with a snort.

“Watch yourself, Dr. Everdeen, or I might not be so favorable when it comes to next month’s shifts,” he told her, though a smile played on his lips. “Effie is expecting you over soon, by the way.”

“I’m off next Sunday,” she replied. “I’ll be over for brunch.”

He nodded as they reached the nurses’ station. “I have a new case that I’d like you to shadow.”

“Sure,” Katniss said easily. “Where’s the chart?”

The elevator behind them dinged. “Actually, I can just introduce you now—”

“Katniss?”

She whirled at the voice and found Peeta approaching them. He gently guided the man he was with until they stood in front of her and Dr. Abernathy.

The man looked to her and gave her a shaky, yet kind, smile. “You know my son?”

Peeta’s father—they had the same smile.

“Yes, Mr. Mellark. Peeta and I went to the same university.”

“Katniss is loads smarter than me,” Peeta informed his father. He looked her over in her doctor’s coat, her printed blouse and bootcut dress pants peeking out from beneath. “Obviously.”

“She is my prized intern,” Haymitch informed the men. “Dr. Everdeen, this is our new patient, Brian Mellark. Brian, Dr. Katniss Everdeen will be shadowing me on your case.”

Katniss took the man’s hand, clasping his fingers between hers. She felt the tremble, already knowing that she was looking at someone who was suffering from Parkinson’s. However, Katniss could tell that Brian had a fighting spirit.

“Nice to meet you officially, Mr. Mellark,” she said.

“Brian please,” he insisted. “Any friend of Peeta’s is a friend of mine.”

“Well—” Her eyes went to the man who stood beside Dr. Abernathy. “—Peeta and I just happen to share a goddaughter, so we’re practically family.” She began to guide him towards the exam rooms, making sure to follow his pace in order to gauge his current mobility. “I have a feeling we’ll be sharing another one in about seven-ish months.”

They made a slight right into the exam room and she helped Brian into a nearby chair.

“I actually really hope that they don’t pick us,” Peeta told her. “I mean, you’re practically banned from the last church we were in.”

Dr. Abernathy guffawed. “Why is that?”

“Because when they asked if she renounced Satan…she paused.”

“It was an accident,” she insisted. “I was momentarily distracted by a certain tardy godfather!”

“So, you were looking at me.” Peeta smirked at her. “Katniss, I’m flattered.”

Katniss looked to Brian. “How do you even deal with him?”

The man chuckled, briefly giving his son an affectionate smile. “He grows on you eventually.”

She raised a brow. “Like a fungus?”

“Exactly.”

“Dad!” Peeta cried out in embarrassment as they all chuckled at him.

Dr. Abernathy grinned. “I think we’re all going to have fun.”

++++++

“So, does anyone know?” Katniss asked as she and Peeta stood outside of exam room. “Madge? Finnick?”

Peeta shook his head. “It’s new.” He leaned against the adjacent wall. “My mom noticed the tremble about three months ago, so she took him to his primary doctor. He ran some tests and then recommended that we see Dr. Abernathy.”

Katniss nodded. “Your Dad is in good hands. Dr. Abernathy is the best.”

“I feel like I know nothing about you,” Peeta suddenly said. “How long have you been working here?”

“I’ve been an intern here for about two years and I hope to stay as long as I can,” she told him. “The world needs more neurologists.”

Peeta reached over, straightening her coat for her.

“I’m impressed.” His gaze went to neat braid resting against her shoulder and her breath caught as his fingers grazed the tip. “Dr. Everdeen.”

“I’m impressed by your cakes,” she offered. “I can’t bake for the life of me.”

“I guess that’s why you’re going to have to keep me around,” he quipped. “After all, the cake that I made for Joey’s christening was the whole reason I was late and earned your ire. I had to help my Dad close the bakery and then spent the night making the cake. The bakery is about two hours away from the church and I overslept.”

“You should’ve told me,” Katniss said, suddenly feeling ashamed.

Brian’s condition was serious, and it was obvious that he would have to completely cut back from working at the bakery sooner than anyone thought.

“It’s fine,” he told her easily. “I am glad that you liked the cake.”

Katniss chuckled. “I owe you a rub down, too.”

She did not just say that.

Oh God—was she actually flirting with Peeta?

A grin rose on his lips, making her forget her faux pas.

“I’m going to make you five more cakes just for saying that.”

++++++

The Baptism of Alice Riley Odair

“I’m sorry!” Katniss rushed to the front of the church, removing her coat, and tossing it on a pew before joining the rest of the group. “I got held up at work.”

Finnick went to her, placing the infant in her arms. “Isn’t she the most gorgeous baby?”

Katniss’ eyes went to the baby and she leaned down to sniff the baby’s strawberry-colored hair.

“She is very beautiful…” Her words caught and everyone looked up at her show of emotion. However, Katniss gathered herself and looked around the nearly empty church. Besides Finnick and Annie’s parents, their group—which now included her sister and Cato—was the only one in attendance. “I guess it’s a solo baptism?”

Annie smiled. “Finnick insisted that no other babies take up his princess’ spotlight.”

She nodded before her attention went to the priest to begin the ceremony.

However, Katniss knew he was watching her.

Because this time, Peeta forgot to renounce Satan.

++++++

The Odair Residence

“I brought you some cake.”

Peeta sat next to Katniss on the back steps leading down to the wide backyard of the Odair Home. Inside, the reception continued as servers walked about offering the hundreds of guests champagne and canapes.

No one even noticed the beautiful English-inspired garden outside the double doors—or the two missing godparents.

“They haven’t even started serving the cake,” Katniss replied softly. However, she took a piece from the plate that she was sure was part of the Odair family china.

“I might’ve brought an extra cake,” he told her, leaning back against the steps. “You’ve been crying.” Katniss looked to him in surprise. “Your eyes were shiny when you got to the church and your nose was a little red, like you’ve been sniffling a lot. You can talk to me if you want. I mean, I think our friendship has grown in the last few months.”

It was true.

Since his father’s first appointment, Peeta had become a constant visitor to the clinic, along with Brian. His father’s treatment was a combination of medications and lifestyle changes prescribed by Katniss and Dr. Abernathy. However, every patient usually needed some time to find the best dosage and medication for themselves; it took Brian three months before they found a working regiment.

While his father worked with her and Dr. Abernathy, Peeta had been his father’s constant companion and, after each appointment, they found themselves often talking by the nurses’ station until Brian was ready to leave.

Sometimes, she thought that Brian let them talk a little too long.

Katniss took a deep breath. “Mags died last night.”

“Katniss…I’m so sorry,” Peeta told her sincerely. “I know how much she meant to you and Haymitch.”

Her eyes welled up once more and this time, she didn’t brush the tears away.

“I knew that she was getting worse,” she explained in a thick voice. “But it just happened so suddenly. I was at the nurses’ station charting and she coded…” Her face fell into her hands. “Haymitch and I tried so hard to get her back…but we knew it was over.” She looked up at the man next to her. “I have never seen Haymitch look so defeated.”

She was suddenly engulfed in Peeta’s embrace.

“This all sounds like a good reason to cry. You cared for Mags and so did Haymitch. She will always be a big part of your life and career. She’ll be the patient that you’ll always remember.”

“I knew neurology was going to be hard. It’s all about dealing with the brain. All parts of it…the parts that effect the physical body…the parts that effect emotional parts. But Mags was more than a patient to me. I cared about her and she was my first patient at the institute.”

Katniss groaned into the balmy air in aggravation.

“Why couldn’t I have gotten into something easier? Like obstetrics?” She let out a wet laugh. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard—”

“Prim is pregnant,” he finished for her. “They made the announcement about five minutes ago.”

“I guess this is our magic third,” she told him.

“I hope it’s a boy this time,” Peeta replied. “That way Finnick can freak out over Alice possibly having a future boyfriend.”

Katniss rested against his chest. “That might just cheer me up—a panicked Finnick Odair.” She looked up at him and gave him a smile. “Thanks.”

She was abruptly aware how close they were…how Peeta’s thumb caressed the top of her hand causing a zing of electricity to surge through her body. His nose was nestled in her loose waves and Katniss found herself wishing that he would just—

She liked him.

More than liked him, really.

Katniss could almost imagine herself waking up in the arms that held her; they made her feel safe and loved. She could see a life where they would spend Sundays making bread at the family bakery so that their children could visit Brian and Peeta’s mom Miranda and cheer up their ailing Grandpa. She imagined kisses that made her forget stressful days and conversations that lasted until they fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

It all seemed wonderful.

But it wasn’t real.

Also, Peeta didn’t like her like that.

They were friends and they shared godchildren. If it didn’t work out, they would be splitting up the whole group.

She would lose him.

And her heart couldn’t take that.

Slowly, Katniss pulled away.

“We should go back in.”

She rushed away before he could even respond.

++++++

The Abernathy Institute of Aging

Katniss sat back after examining Brian; he seemed comfortable, his tremors under control. However, he did admit to struggling during workouts. She noted his discomfort but knew that it would be some time before he’d feel stronger.

“I think it’s the combination of medication that’s making you feel so tired,” Katniss told him. “Anyone taking that combination would probably feel the way you do. Give it time and continue working out. However, if you continue to feel this way in a few months, then we should consider looking into other regiments, maybe physical therapy.”

“I agree with Dr. Everdeen. Your symptoms seem to be side effects of your medications,” Dr. Abernathy told the man. “However, I also see a definite improvement with your tremors. Do you have any questions?”

“I do have some questions for you, Dr. Abernathy,” Brian replied.

The doctor nodded before looking to Katniss. “Why don’t you set up Brian’s next appointment up with Peeta?”

“He should be outside,” Brian told her with a smile.

“Nice seeing you, Brian,” she told him before giving him a quick hug. “I’ll be at the nurses’ station as usual.”

Gathering her things, Katniss stepped out into the hallway and found Peeta waiting expectantly for her. He approached as she closed the door, giving her a small smile.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” she said shyly. “I haven’t seen you since—”

“The reception,” he finished, joining her side. “Do you think we could talk…privately?”

“Sure.”

Katniss led him down the hallway towards the opposite end as Peeta followed silently behind her. It had been a little over three months since they had seen one another. She had been busy at the clinic as well helping Prim and Cato move into their new house.

“Brian told me that you’ve taken over a lot of the day to day operations at the bakery,” she said as they walked into an empty conference room.

“Both my brothers were more interested in the business and marketing aspects of the bakery,” he explained. “I enjoy baking and we were able to hire a recent graduate from the Culinary Institute to assist me. Also, my mom is helping out in the front along with Susie, my sister-in-law.”

Closing the door behind her, Katniss went to the counter where a coffee maker and hot water dispenser sat next to a sink.

“Did you want any coffee? Oh wait—you like tea,” she said absently as she filled the dispenser before opening the cabinets. “We have chamomile, black, rooibos—”

“Katniss.” She turned to find Peeta right in front of her and instinctively she pushed back against the counter. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Maybe,” Katniss found herself admitting. She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. “I’m not good with vulnerability…and feelings, in general. I chose a career where I had to rein that all in.”

“Whether you like it or not, emotions tend to come out,” he replied. “Prime example is Mags. You never reined it in when it came to her, did you?”

“Towards the end I did,” she told him. “I had to introduce myself to her everyday and it broke me every time.”

“Just because you let someone in and it hurt, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let anyone else in,” Peeta pointed out.

Katniss met his eyes. “And by anyone, you mean you?”

“I like you!” he burst out, blue eyes frenzied. “Hell, I might even love you, but you can’t run away because you’re scared.” His hands went to her shoulders. “Katniss, you’re smart…and kind…and beautiful beyond words and I know that I don’t have a chance in hell with you—but I have to try.”

Her chest filled at his words. “You might love me?”

Peeta shook his head. “No, that’s a cop out. I do love you. Even when you hated me, I loved you.”

“I never hated you,” she said. “I might have been annoyed with your tendency to be late…and your complete lack of tact sometimes…and in college, the fact that there was always a different girl on your arm—”

“I tried and failed to compensate for the one person I wanted,” he explained. “All of us…you and me…Annie…Finnick…Gale and Madge…even your sister and Cato are so interconnected. I thought that it would go badly if I even approached you with the intent of becoming more.”

Her hand went to his cheek. “And now?”

Peeta let out a shaky breath. “I will gladly take their wrath just to be with you.”

“I wouldn’t let them hurt you,” she told him quietly. “But I am scared. It could all go to shit in a few months…or a year…or even tomorrow.”

Peeta stepped closer, his hands reaching to cup her cheeks.

“If we just have tomorrow, then we should make it a hell of a day, shouldn’t we?”

Katniss took a deep breath, her eyes tracing over his face and landing at the smoothness of his mouth before she nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

He beamed. “Okay?” His hands rested against the curves of her waist. “I’m not used to you being so agreeable.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she murmured as he gazed at her in soft reverence. “Peeta?”

“Yes?”

“If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter.”

Peeta smirked. “As much as I’d love that, I’ve waited much longer to do this—"

Before Katniss could respond, his mouth swept hers and she felt herself sag into him. Her arms reached around his neck and she anchored herself to the hard planes of his front. His tongue traced against the entrance of her mouth before gently dipping in to caress her own.

A hum escaped her mouth at the taste of him.

Peeta Mellark could be utterly annoying sometimes.

But he was also utterly addicting.

“Ahem.”

They separated quickly, righting themselves before looking to Dr. Abernathy.

“I’ve made Brian’s appointment because I couldn’t seem to find my intern,” he informed the two. His eyes went to Peeta. “However, your father seemed to think that you two needed to talk.”

“I apologize,” she replied breathlessly as she smoothed down her hair. Katniss turned to Peeta, still reeling over what had just happened. “Peeta, I’ll follow up with you about all of this…later.”

“Follow up?” Peeta chuckled before placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll call you tonight.” He went to the door and clapped Dr. Abernathy on the shoulder before stepping out.

Katniss looked to her mentor. “It won’t happen again.”

“Brian really didn’t have any questions,” her mentor informed her as they walked out into the hallway. “But I’m sure Effie will. She will never let it go if you and your boyfriend don’t come to dinner next weekend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she told him. The man eyed her. “At least, I’m not sure if he is.”

“With a kiss like that, I’m pretty sure he is,” Dr. Abernathy said. “I’m happy for you.”

Katniss felt her face heat. “Thanks.”

“And, I think that Dr. Katniss Everdeen-Mellark would look very impressive on your office nameplate.”

She whipped around at him. “What?”

“When your internship is complete, I’m offering you an official spot here,” he told her with a grin.

For the first time in her professional career, Katniss hugged her boss.

++++++

The Baptism of Lennox James Sloan

“Aren’t you worried?” Madge turned to Prim, who held her son. “The service is starting in five minutes.”

“I know my sister,” Prim insisted. “She’ll be here.”

“Yes, but Katniss has been a little off these past few months,” Annie added. “Kind of distracted.”

The women stood up front while Finnick, Gale, and Cato sat in the first pew along with the Everdeens and Sloans.

“She’s fine—” The slamming shut of the church doors cut her off and the subject of their discussion hurried in along with Lennox’s godfather. “—I told you she’d be right on time!”

“Sorry!” Katniss stopped at the first pew as Peeta helped her out of her coat, revealing a peach dress that brightened her complexion. “Got caught up—”

“We expect this from Peeta,” Finnick joked. “But this is a first offense for you.”

Katniss blushed, stepping up to join the girls. Peeta followed along as Prim handed Lennox to him.

“I overslept,” she explained. “My alarm didn’t go off—here let me fix your tie, Peeta—or I slept through it.” Peeta quickly turned to Prim to give Lennox back and she gave him a quick smile as he gently placed her son in her arms.

Katniss removed the tie, smoothing it out before placing it back around the collar of Peeta’s button down. The group gawked at the fluidity of it as Katniss created a Windsor knot before patting down the collar.

“I’ve hardly gotten any sleep,” she continued distractedly, her hands brushing at Peeta’s suit jacket.

Prim couldn’t help but grin.

Katniss had insisted on keeping her and Peeta’s relationship a secret until after the Lennox’s baptism.

However, in one obviously intimate gesture, Katniss had revealed their secret.

“And, why haven’t you been sleeping?” Cato asked as he joined them along with Gale and Finnick.

He grinned wickedly at his sister-in-law.

Of course, Prim had to tell her husband that the relationship he knew would happen eventually had actually come to fruition. She didn’t know which one of them was happier.

“I’ve been…reading,” she grounded out. “A lot.”

“Then you must be reading until you can’t keep your eyes open,” Cato replied, and Prim elbowed him.

Katniss looked at him in confusion. “Um…yeah?”

Peeta turned to Katniss, his blue eyes shining at her.

“I’m sure Katniss is an avid reader. Probably one of those readers who won’t stop until they’ve finished.”

Cato grimaced. “Gross.”

“What the hell am I missing?” Gale asked.

Madge finally caught on and so did Annie, both discreetly high fiving in celebration.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” his wife assured him. “Let’s go take our seats.”

The priest entered and Prim and Cato went to greet him.

Katniss and Peeta joined them, the latter’s hand not-so-discreetly on the small of Katniss’s back, his thumb caressing the spot as they listened to the man’s instructions.

Gale’s eyes widened in realization and he turned to the group, his grin wide.

“I call godfather!”

FIN.

#Baptism #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark #Everlark one-shot #godparents!Everlark

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radramblog · 4 years ago

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Nuz Report- X Water/Poison

God I feel like shit both mentally and physically right now, and I cant put a button on why. This might be an issue, considering I’ve got like half an hour or so to get this bad boy done.

Hmm. Let’s talk about the nuzlocke I finished yesterday, that’ll work, I can vomit words on that.

I finished a Pokemon X Duolocke with 1 death yesterday, but the fuckers made me fight for it.

For round 6 of the Nuzlocke Premier League, we did Duolocke Runs of Pokemon X and Y. Now I was hoping to take this month off, since only 3 of the team’s 4 members have to do each round, and I’ve done literally all of them previously without a break. But unfortunately, our 4th had to pull out for real life stuff- understandable, but still a pain. Kalos is probably my worst region for Nuz stuff (save Galar which I haven’t tried yet) and being locked to two types, after my allies had taken the starters I didn’t despise, was not exactly a thrilling prospect.

(these screenshots were taken post-E4. I was Lv.68 going in, same as Diantha’s ace.)

With my teammates taking Psychic/Normal and Fighting/Dark respectively, my only starter choice was Froakie. This is literally the first time I’ve used Froakie for anything, and it meant I had to reckon with the abyss that is its natural learnset. Chau (named after Knives from Scott Pilgrim) was an absolute mess until it hit Greninja, and even then took forever to be actually good. Pinch-hitting with U-turn was useful, but that TM comes frustratingly late.

With Froakie in mind, and Dark taken, one of my types had to be Water. I ended up choosing Poison for the natural synergy- Poison can take on the Grasses that scare my Water types, and Water can deal with Poison’s Ground weakness. Greninja, being also Dark, can scare off Poison’s Psychic weakness, with the Poisons taking the Fairies that Gren doesn’t like. It made sense to me.

The only other super earlygame mon that made it to the final team was Pikablu the Azumarill. Gen 6 introduced a thing where baby Pokemon get 3 perfect IVs by default, and Pikablu’s ended up in Attack, Defense, and Speed (with Huge Power of course), making it one of the best Azumarills you can possibly end up with. Funny rabbit didn’t get to abuse its powerful Fairy STAB until learning Play Rough very very late, but thwacking things with Return and Aqua Tail proved to be enough.

While I played around with a Beedrill and Panpour early, the next mainstay wouldn’t show up until Sycamore offers a Gen I starter in Lumiose, where I of course chose Bulbasaur. Rafflé was such a versatile, hard-hitting mon that did a patently absurd amount of work in the E4. Sleep Powder is a useful enough tool that access to it guaranteed him staying on the team, but being the first actually good Poison around (save Budew->Roserade, but I didn’t know where to get a Shiny Stone and it’s redundant anyway) meant a lot early on.

It was around here that I had the only death of the run. Outside of Connecting Cave lies a trainer with an Axew, which I completely forgot knows the frankly overpowering at that point Dragon Rage, one-shotting Anaesthesia the Croagunk. It was a real shame, I was kind of hoping she’d be able to redeem the line for me, but I guess it wasn’t to be. She was Modest anyway so she wouldn’t have been good regardless, I suppose.

Moving through gyms and the awful Kalosian pacing, I ended up picking up a few other temporary team-members- Vaporeon and Crobat. [bad meme] the Vaporeon, despite having an excellent nature, just didn’t have the stats to cut it, and I wasn’t comfortable with Flaps adding yet another Electric weakness to the team, especially with Clemont approaching.

[bad meme] would get replaced by Lagrange the Lapras, since Ice seemed like an extremely handy type to have around. Lapras is another one of those mons that’s just generally pretty solid, his bulk being much appreciated along with the coverage Ice Beam (and later, Thunderbolt) brought. Looking back, I ended up with a bit of a bulkier team than average, but I feel like that was fine to make up for the fragility of Chau and one of my later members.

Clemont was the first Gym that actually scared me, and it wasn’t because of his actually good Pokemon. My main answer to him was Venusaur, except, he has an Emolga….that bloody rodent gave me more trouble than anything else on the team, since it hit everything super-effectively if I didn’t grind something else up (and I didn’t).

Choices for the team ended up being pretty slim pickings. The lategame of XY has a lot less variety for my two types than the earlygame, with multiple repeated options, and a lot of them were less than appealing. Combine that with my lackluster luck with a lot of areas and my team felt a little stretched for playables. That Beedrill only left the team after Clemont.

It would be replaced by Quaaaaaaaaag. Despite having the worst of Quagsire’s two abilities, he pulled more than his weight, even if he just clicked Earthquake most of the time. An immune switch for Electric was absolutely essential for the run, letting Chau’s U-turn be extremely safe in certain scenarios.

The last team member was somewhat of a surprise. I was running around Frost Cavern for the only legal encounter, a 10% shot at Haunter. I’ve always been a lot less high on that line than most, gotta get that hipster cred in, but that does fly out the window when you get to legitimately use a Shiny one.

Unfortunately due to the rules of the NPL, I was not permitted to get Mega Akuta running, confining him to the shade shiny he was. But I wasn’t going to pass up the chance anyway. Akuta had huge utility being able to switch into Normal, Fighting, and Ground completely freely, and break just about anything with a variety of heavy Special attacks. His paper-thin defenses didn’t matter if he never got hit, though I was always loathe to switch him in just in case he got Crit to death on entry.

The final team paired up awkwardly against the Kalos E4, and I was a bit worried about having 4 waters and 2 poisons instead of 3/3 (my other options were like, not good) but we made it through without losing anyone. Malva and Drasna were, unsurprisingly, not hard, and Siebold’s Gyarados terrified me with Dragon Dance but didn’t actually get an attack off before Lagrange’s Thunderbolt took it out. I was extremely concerned about Wikstrom, but a rather silly strategy prevailed- using Rafflé to Sleep Powder and set up Growth (shoulda taught Swords Dance tbh) before rolling him with Bulldoze (I forgot to get the Earthquake TM). Diantha was similarly scary, seeing as her Mega Gardevoir had SE on everything except Quaaaaaaaaaag , and he wasn’t going to be able to take two. Chau was in when she came out, and I knew Night Slash wasn’t going to KO, so she had to get out of there- U-Turning into an already chipped Akuta was the only play and I had to hope she went for Moonblast instead of Thunderbolt. She did, but it got the Special Attack drop, which presented its own conundrum- does Akuta KO from here, or does he die? Because I can’t switch around forever, chip damage wasn’t going to get me far when she had healing items in reserve. I went for it, and it turns out Akuta did get the KO, but I was nailbiting the whole time.

I’m hoping next round, Crystal Superless, is less grating on my nerves, if I even have to do it at all. Because, fuck, I need a break.

What’s that, NWC is starting again? Oh, sign me up fam,

#ramble #pokemon #nuzlocke

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grade-a-masochist · 5 years ago

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Okay, so things I have figured out during my Teen Wolf Rewatch

Honestly, Stiles's Jeep is tougher than half the assemble combined

I flicker between profound like and even more profound dislike for Allison and honestly, 9 year old me would be weeping

The more I remember why Derek is, y'know, Derek—the more I wanna give Kate her own Tara

I just finished season two and I'm actually kind of impressed at how they've set down the groundwork for some of the events of season three

Deaton was?? So fucking mysterous??? Like, get on my level, creepy Hales

The whole Lydia-is-immune crap is so funny in retrospect because ooh, boy, she sure as hell ain't

Peter is a hella good character and I just can't bring myself to hate him though trust me—I have tried

Okay I already said it but I kinda wanna beat Allison with Stiles's bat. The metal one, not the wooden one

Honestly Scott is the most cunning dumbass and I feel we overlook the first part of that statement a lot?

Someone give Derek those years of therapy he needs so he can give Isaac the support my poor pup needs

Or, you know, Scott can do it, too, I'm not picky

Just someone—help that poor boy

(I know it doesn't really happen and it hurts)

I love Coach like thrice as much this time around??? Idk don't ask me

And I appreciate Chris as a parent like, cubed

Honestly if Peter had bitten Stiles and not Scott, shit would have gone down thrice as much and Peter would not stare at Stiles as though to ask "Why the fuck haven't you taken the bite yet???" during the next three seasons

Jackson came out just like his alpha—dramatic. AF

I wanna smack Erica and Boyd for being idiots but I also whimper and mumble about "My pups, my poor pups"

(I am choosing to chalk that up to the constant fever)

Scott has grown so much?? I am so fucking proud??

And Stiles, too

Jury is still out on Allison

Victoria Argent was scarier than all the scary shit in Teen Wolf and honestly what the fuck

Like?? Lady??? Lady are u alright

Also I'm glad Isaac's dad is dead and gone and honestly, pat on the back for you, Matt

The effects used to be sooo crappy man. We sure have evolved a lot

Also remember when the biggest problem Scott had was avoiding the cool kids? Yeah me too

Melissa McCall is a fucking blessing

Sheriff Stilinski, too

Give those guys a cookie

Edit:

Jennifer is such a good actress? The character, I mean. Like, wow. Give the woman an oscar

I had completely forgotten how under all that sarcasm, persistent negativity and occasional puppy-like behavior, Isaac's got some serious sadistic tendencies going on

Also the reason why Isaac and Stiles get along worse than Scott and Jackson is because the two are pretty fucking similar

Derek loved his pack of self-esteem-deprived adolescents a lot, okay, even if he had a HELLA weird way of showing it. Like, dude; therapy

I knew this for a fact, sure, but you can see it so fucking clearly when he's desperate to get Boyd and Erica back even if they willingly left him. For all intents and purposes, they're not his responsibility anymore. But he cares, so he keeps searching and looking, and the devastated look on his face when he cradles Erica's dead body is actually painful. You can see his grief. And you can see his life even more when "Survivor #1" Derek Hale lets Boyd and Cora fucking maul him half to death without hurting them. He just ...lets them unravel. Because he'd rather die at their hands than kill them. And I think that's beautiful

Peter and Stiles might actually be the ones I find funniest in the whole show and I don't know how I feel about that

Can someone give Kali some shoes and tell her that she doesn't need to hop through life with her claws on display? They aint that pretty sis

Scott's tattoo is still amazing, thank you very much

Stiles can't catch a break and honestly, fuck you, writers

How come it takes everyone in every show 178939 episodes to figure out what in fuck is going on and Stiles has got it right on episode three

Like wow the only competent decision Peter's ever made is offering that kid the bite

(Making terrible decisions runs through the Hale blood, okay)

Might I just say I really, really love Lydia's banshee arc

Like, WOW IT'S ONE OF MY FAVES

I'm just watching this and remembering the glorious time when Alphas were still worth something

Like, wtf now any random creature magically matches up when before having red eyes immediately made you more or less the equivalent to an angry lion while everyone else is, like...a dying baby sheep

Yeah, no

I already said this but it's worth repeating: Scott McCall can be one hell of a cunning, clever little shit when he wants to be. If he had Stiles's morals? I'd be scared for the world. It's a very, very good thing things are the way they are, or Peter would've had a fucking blast

The effects? Much better. Could use some work? Definitely. Do I choose to ignore it? Yup

Isaac's bond to Derek is sometimes sweet and powerful (c'mon, he's the first beta, he's special) sometimes just...dude you shouldn't have said yes honestly

I am not looking forward to next episode. At all. Derek will be a bad, bad Alpha and I do not like it.

Is it bad that I took pleasure in Allison finding out how the fuck her mother got herself killed? Yes. Do I actually feel bad? Ha—no

The true alpha plot line always makes me think of this one small moment in season one, when Peter makes Scott shift in the school. For a moment, his eyes flashed red—that never happened ever again with any other beta when they were forced to turn

#Teen wolf #allison argent #scott mccall #isaac lahey #derek hale #Peter hale #Vernon boyd #erica reyes #Stiles stilinski #melissa mccall #chris argent #kate argent #spoilers #like sooo many #woe

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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

Text

05 | Over the Moon

→ previous | next

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, intense description of torture, blood, mentions of death by torture

→ wordcount: 8.7k

Your days as a Crescent are a delightful routine. Every day is different from the last, yes, but the events are almost all the same: breakfast, lunch, dinner, sales with Yoongi and Hoseok, talk with Yoongi, sleep. The sense of repetitiveness, the touch of routine is what makes your life the best it's been since six years ago.

You almost don't have time to even mourn, anymore. Jimin would've wanted you to move on.

Besides, you're really finding yourself integrating into this family. Every one of their faces, from Kim Seokjin to Jeon Jungkook is welcoming—you're familiar with the new quirks they had picked up with maturity and you like it. You like the new them.

You've come to acknowledge that Kim Seokjin is a reasonable, level-headed boss who looks out for everyone in the Crescents. He's kind, astute and more observant than he looks. The same goes for Namjoon. You can't think of anyone else who would do his job as the underboss, Seokjin's advisor, better than he does. Yoongi and Hoseok are dauntless dealers. Both are quick-witted and scary when they need to be. While they share a quality of pragmatics, they use it in different ways that balance each other out. Though Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are often stuck with the so-called 'dirty-work' of the household, they rarely throw away their duties. You've come to admire their diligence.

You finally think you fit in with this family once more. Adult life is starting to become enjoyable.

You've been on the phone with your parents a few times too, reassuring them that yes, you got a job (minus the part you were in a lucrative underground business) and yes, you paid your rent and no, you can't get Jimin on the phone because you don't know where he is. It's only half true. Where do you go when you're dead?

Every time Jimin comes into your mind (though less often these days), you try not to become miserable; instead, your defense mechanism is to read his diary, which you're half-way through, by the way. His writing keeps you grounded when you miss him. You do everything you can to imagine him sitting at his desk with his diary splayed out in front of him as he pours out his mind onto the pages. It calms you down—makes you feel like you knew your brother.

You haven't really been paying attention to the dates until today, however. And you had no need to because Jimin wrote in his diary almost every day or every other day at most. Yet, the last entry you read before this had been nearly six months later (since you were going in reverse chronological order).

You frown as you examine the pages of the diary. Why the long break from diary writing?

Situating yourself on your bed so that you're comfy, you tug the diary closer to yourself, preparing to read it. The moonlight shines in from the open window as the crescent moon watches you read:

How much easier will this get? I don’t want to think about it. And I wonder... is there a special place for murderers in hell? The more I think about it, the more depressed I become.

What I was tonight... Whatever I was, wasn’t me, right? I think I was a monster today, but when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be normal. I’ll be Park Jimin. But a Jimin who had used his own hands to take another’s life. God. I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself.

But I couldn’t help it. This is my job as a hitman. Jungkook and Taehyung were shaken up about it too, but Taehyung doesn’t want to talk about it and Jungkook’s too shocked to say anything. I’m too cowardly to mention it, so I can only write about it here.

I’m not scared of blood. But watching it seep through someone else’s body... knowing that I caused it to happen... Fuck. I think I might be going insane, writing this. My hands are shaking and my limbs are completely numb. I feel detached from my heart and soul and my mind is heavy in my head.

Oh, god, I cherish the glimmer in my eyes—and I can attest that everyone has their own special sparkle. But I took it away from someone today. I watched the sparkle abandon his eyes, leaving two dull, glassy, dead eyeballs. How am I going to live with myself after this? How can JK, Tae and I all live through this?

And you know what’s sadder? You know what’s fucking sadder? I’m more worried about what I have done than who I have killed.

I’ve become a monster.

Jimin's handwriting deteriorates further down the entry and the pages are wrinkled from teardrops and sweat. You can almost feel the pain he had gone through writing this. Yet you are stunned to silence as well. Slowly, you close the diary, tucking it under your mattress and laying on your bed with your hands folded on your stomach. You stare at your ceiling again.

Maybe Jimin stared at the same spot when he slept in this room.

God. You turn over to your side, sliding your knees up to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

It's one thing to imagine or assume your brother has murdered... but to see him confess it in his own writing...

What's worse is the fact that he never mentioned murdering in the entries after, which meant he became completely immune to it. You're in stupid denial once more. Just when you thought you weren't going to cry over your dead brother anymore...

You don't know how long you've been drowning in your own thoughts when someone knocks on your door. The sound scares you and you sit upon your bed, quickly checking the time. When had it gotten so late? It's 10 pm, already? Who would want to talk to me so late?

"Yeah?" you call. "Who is it?"

"I-It's Yoongi... I just, uh, wanted to talk."

No, Yoongi. I'm not in the mood. I can't—

"You can come in," you say, your own voice betraying your thoughts.

Yoongi's shy as he steps into your room, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he eyes you sitting on your bed. "Hey, I just..." he starts, walking towards you before sitting down on the edge of your bed. "I just wanted to apologize, Y/N."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Apologize?" Damn, the moment you hear his voice, you're able to forget about everything else.

"I, well... I'm not very um, good with humans as you may know," Yoongi confesses, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "I mean, I don't know how to talk to them... I never... Well, to be quite honest, I've never felt this," he motions between you and himself, "with someone before and I wanted to apologize, erm, because I don't know if I'm handling this um, normally... I don't know," he groans, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't even know what I'm saying right now. I just thought you deserved an explanation. I sure as hell don't know what to do when I like someone. Words aren't really my thing, you know? I just don't know what to do with... us."

"Oh, Yoongi..." you sigh, your chest feeling warm and your cheeks blushing. "You don't have to apologize."

"But I do!" he protests, throwing his hands out before looking at you. "We've kissed. Twice! And nothing's official! Is this how these things work??"

"These things," you giggle at his choice of words. "Actually, I'm not sure, either. I'm just as new to this as you are, you know?"

Yoongi smiles. "So I'm not the only one confused?"

"I'm just as confused as you are."

"But you're sure about one thing?"

"Yeah," you nod. "I like you too, you know."

"I don't think you would've kissed me back twice if you didn't," Yoongi chuckles. "So what now?"

"I dunno," you answer truthfully. "But I do appreciate your honesty. I can trust you." Yoongi's somehow able to take your mind off of business. It's funny. He's part of the Crescents, part of the mafia, part of a brutal gang, but when you're with him, you feel normal.

The bed dips as Yoongi slowly makes his way over to you, sitting so he's right in front of you. "Can I spend the night here?" he asks.

You don't think twice before you nod.

It's one in the morning but you're still wide awake. You find that it's impossible to fall asleep when there's so much on your mind, anyway. Sighing, you look up and out of your window, following the moonlight with your eyes. The moonshine illuminates Yoongi's soft features as he sleeps soundly with your head resting on his bare chest.

You feel safe like this, in his arms. Your Crescents marks touching too—Yoongi's on his chest and yours on the back of your neck.

You didn't think that you'd have sex with him tonight, but one thing had led to another... and it had just happened. But you don't regret it, either. Yoongi is a diligent and selfless partner, always chasing after your release more than his. The enjoyable sex took your mind off of everything. Until both of you had come down from your highs, that is.

Now that Yoongi's asleep, your mind can wander back to its bad habits: thinking about your brother. Though you'd forgotten about the diary when Yoongi was taking sweet care of your body, you remember now. That your brother is a murderer. That anybody in this gang could be one. You can't seem to fall asleep.

At that moment, Yoongi groans softly underneath you, making you raise your head to look into his barely open eyes.

"Hey, you still awake?" he asks with his gravelly voice. "Do you need some water?"

"No, no, I'm fine," you say, quietly. His arm moves around to wrap you tighter against him, and you snuggle into his chest. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"You always do," Yoongi chuckles.

You take a moment to contemplate before deciding for it. Maybe talking about it will put you at peace. "Can I ask you something, then?"

"Sure," Yoongi says, rubbing small circles on your arm. "What is it?"

"Have you..." you hesitate, "um, have you ever murdered someone?"

Yoongi frowns. "What?"

"I mean, have you ever killed someone before?" you say.

"That's what's been on your mind?" Yoongi sighs. "Well, would any of this change if I said yes?"

You stay silent for a while before sighing, turning over so you can face Yoongi properly. He sits up on the bed, staring at you with a worried look plastered on his face. It's the first time he's not stoic, outwardly expressing his feelings.

"I... I don't know, Yoongi."

"Y/N," Yoongi groans, raking his fingers across his hair as he breathes in deeply. "Will it make you feel better if I told you no?"

You stare at him blankly.

"I've never handled a weapon other than to sell it," Yoongi clarifies, making you let out a sigh of relief. "But indirectly, I've probably killed many."

Your brows furrow as you ask, "Indirectly?"

Yoongi gives you a sad look, caressing your warm cheek with his delicate fingers. "We sell weapons, Y/N... What do you think they do with them? Let's go to sleep, hm? Talk about it in the morning..."

He snuggles back into the blankets, tapping his chest for you to lay your head. You oblige, laying your head against him as he falls back into sleep. You can feel his even breathing, the small rises and falls of his chest. It should be soothing. But you're more awake than ever.

You've accepted it, really.

You're an indirect murderer, too, anyways. You sell weapons with Yoongi, therefore you are much capable of indirectly causing the demise of another stranger. You shouldn't be thinking too much about it—so you haven't. And as a result, your relationship with Yoongi has soared.

Your relationship with your co-workers has soared, in fact. Hoseok isn't really an asshole once you get to know him better. When you have your nice afternoon chats with him, he strikes you like the most normal businessman ever. Just a little uptight, though.

"I was afraid to sit my ass down on the toilet for a year after that prank," Hoseok snorts, shaking his head disdainfully as you're thrown into a fit of laughter.

"We didn't mean for it to affect you so much!" you wheeze, trying to pick up your teacup without spilling the tea from laughing too hard. "Besides, we thought it was insanely obvious that the snake in the toilet was fake!"

"If you had a penis, you'd be careful too," Hoseok scoffs.

You scrunch your nose, setting the teacup back down on the table. "Okay, let's not get into all about genitals, though."

"Fine. Then what about the time you guys hung a giant spider dangling down on the wall next to my bed?" Hoseok asks, shuddering at the thought. "Who's idea was that? Taehyung, again?"

"Surprisingly, that was my idea," you confess. "Dangling a fake spider to try and scare you is too tame to be Tae's idea!"

Hoseok scoffs again. "I didn't deserve those pranks."

You smile. "I know. You were so patient with us, too. But I'm just putting it out there that I only pranked you with JK and Tae. I'd never do it solo."

"Yes, that makes me feel much better," Hoseok says, rolling his eyes.

You snort. "Hey! You learned sarcasm!"

Hoseok laughs, crossing his legs as he leans back on his sofa. "It took me a while. You guys used to make fun of me for not understanding sarcasm too." He never sounds bitter when he recalls his past, which puts you even more at peace.

"But that was all of us as a group!" you protest. "Jimin used to call you the Sarcasm Man, remember?"

Hoseok hums in remembrance, smiling wistfully. "Of course I do. Remember? He used to always tell me, could you be more serious??"

"Yeah!" you laugh, "And you'd always say—"

"Here are the baked goods for the little tea party!" Taehyung sings, carrying a plate full of warm, homemade cookies. He sets them down on the table in between you and Hoseok, grinning proudly at his masterful baking skills.

"Oh, thanks," you say. "They smell really good!"

Apparently, Hoseok doesn't think so. "What kind are these?" he asks, scrunching his nose.

Taehyung scoffs. "Isn't it obvious? Chocolate chip!"

"Can you bring oatmeal?"

You raise your eyebrows as Taehyung groans. "Only old farts like oatmeal, Hoseok. Act your fucking age for once." But with one look from Hoseok, Taehyung's darting out of the room to bake oatmeal cookies.

"Isn't chocolate chip fine?" you say, picking up the warm treat and biting into it. "Mmm, see? It's great. JK and Tae have been getting really good at baking these days."

Hoseok shrugs. "Taehyung should know I don't like chocolate chip," he grumbles. "He's always getting on my nerves."

You nod silently. There's nothing you can really do about the in-house rivalry except watch it unfold before your eyes and hope you don't become a part of it. It's something that was never a problem before when you were children, too. Yet, you've gotten used to it now.

Hoseok sighs, taking a sip of his bitter tea. "You know how the family is, right? We're always split up in different ways no matter how united we are. Jungkook and Taehyung have always been great friends. Jimin and Namjoon were always close too, along with Seokjin. And I was left with Yoongi. It's better that way. Besides, Yoongi was one of the few who wouldn't drool over you in the past, anyway."

You laugh. "So I've heard."

"Yeah," Hoseok smiles. "Seokjin, Jungkook and Taehyung were all completely into you, though you might've heard from someone else. But I didn't want them coming to me to confess their undying love for you. So I stuck with Yoongi. Until now." He groans dramatically but you smile, seeing right through his act. "Yoongi won't stop fucking talking about you!"

"Really?" you grin. "What does he say?"

"Ugh," Hoseok groans. "Have I become the middleman?"

You giggle, shrugging. "I wouldn't mind if you did."

Hoseok grunts as he sips the last of his tea and throws a disgusted look at the sweet chocolate chip cookies. "That's enough chit chat for today, don't you think Y/N? Let's get ready for that sale today."

"Oh, yeah, right," you say, quickly stuffing a cookie in your mouth before taking two in each hand and standing up. "Mmph—what?" you ask with your mouth full when Hoseok gives you a disgusted look. "Ift's for Yoongmi, I swmear!"

"Sure," Hoseok snorts. "Yoongi hates chocolate chip."

"Oh—" you say, shrugging before swallowing. "More for me, then."

Hoseok rolls his eyes but he smiles. "We'll have to grab the oatmeal cookies later, after the sale. It'll be like an incentive to make us work harder."

You scrunch your eyebrows. "Yeah, but who says I even like oatmeal cookies?"

"Y/N, you would eat anything that has the word 'cookie' in it," Hoseok sighs. "You loved baked goods when you were younger so I just assumed you like baked goods now as well."

"You're not wrong," you say, taking a giant bite out of your cookie. "C'mon let's go find Yoongi for the sale."

You kinda might've totally accidentally forgotten to cover up for the sale today. Your arms and legs are left exposed (which, you don't mind because that's how you beat the hot L.A. weather), but that's also bad news when you're dealing.

You can easily ignore the cat-calls and sexual side comments the men shout in your face. You've come to toughen up these past several weeks. Besides, you know that if any of them lay a finger on you, they'll deal with Yoongi and Hoseok's consequences. Otherwise, you, Yoongi and Hoseok have made a silent pact to ignore the comments completely—actually ignoring them scared them even more, you found. Once a man had vulgarly pointed out how nice your tits would look in the open air; you didn't even flinch as you cocked a pistol next to you. He shut up after that. It's amusing to speak with your actions.

Yet, today, Yoongi is on a different page.

"What did you call her?" he asks, quietly, teeth clenched.

"Oh, you need me to repeat that?" the hitman grins. "I called that girl a whore. Look at her, exposing skin like that. She's asking for us to look."

You're about to point your biggest, scariest, most expensive rifle at him to shut him up when Yoongi speaks again.

"If she didn't say you wanted her to look, then she didn't quite ask for you to look, did she?" Yoongi seethes. "Besides," he grins, "we have men everywhere around the city looking to take out some of you low-level crooks, so you better keep your mouths shut in front of a proper lady. Learn some manners."

The men look terrified. Without another word, they quickly gather their items before dashing out of the room like their lives depended on it, which apparently, it did. The three of you watch them leave with amused looks on your faces.

"Damn, Yoongi. You're really looking out for Y/N," Hoseok laughs. "Well, I'm gonna go get my oatmeal cookies. Join me if you want to." He leaves in an excited rush before you and Yoongi can answer.

"He's always really liked Taehyung's oatmeal cookies, though he fails to admit it each time," Yoongi laughs.

"I want to try some of these famed cookies myself," you say. "But um, I'm honestly confused. I thought, you know, we, the Crescents only consist of the seven of us? Are there more out in the city that I don't know of?"

Yoongi laughs again at your innocent question, putting an arm around your shoulder and guiding you out of the room. "I was bluffing, Y/N. We're a very, very tiny gang. But no one else has to know that." He gives your arm a little squeeze before turning you around to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. "Let's go get those cookies."

You nod, though you feel a bit wary. Damn. Just when you thought you were getting used to the mafia tactics... This place is really testing my moralities.

The whole gang is in the white room again with Jin in the power seat and everyone else in their assigned seats. You're honestly a bit confused about what this meeting will be about but Yoongi assured you that you don't have to worry at all. You take his word for it, but something about that white room always makes you feel so uneasy.

"As you may know," Seokjin announces loudly, everyone quieting down to hear him speak, "the annual gala is being hosted soon."

"Hell yeah!" Taehyung shouts, pumping his fist in the air. "Free booze!"

Jin chuckles at Taehyung's excitement, nodding. "The Crescents will be going as usual."

"Objection!" Yoongi protests, which causes everyone to stare at him in utter shock. The man who's practically famous for having no input in any meeting yelling clearly seizes everyone's attention.

"Yes?" Jin asks. "If you are concerned about Y/N's safety, you do not have to be. We'll arrange something special for her."

"You surely can't let her go," Yoongi sighs, leaning back in his chair. "It's dangerous and you know that."

"That is true, Boss," Namjoon says as he turns to you. "It's an open party for all citizens... But there's a murder or two there every year since all of the gangs in the city go to pay their respects. We must be vigilant."

Hoseok chuckles. "You know, they keep coming up with creative ways to kill. Last year the unlucky victim drowned in his own sparkling champagne. I wonder what they're planning this year..."

You frown. Maybe Yoongi's right. Maybe you shouldn't go...

"Aw, but it's fun," Jungkook says. "Y/N will have fun!"

Yoongi snorts. "If your definition of fun is getting sexually harassed and objectified by the male gaze then sure, Y/N will have a lot of fun, Jeon Jungkook. I'd like to keep my girlfriend out of it if you please."

"Your girlfriend happens to be a Crescent," Hoseok sighs. "Yoongi, she's more than capable of going. It's just a single party."

"If she doesn't go, we all don't go," Seokjin says. "We don't leave Crescents behind."

"And we're definitely not going to skip the gala," Hoseok snorts. "That's where our alliances are formed!"

"It's also where our enemies are made," Namjoon points out. "We strap guns, grenades and knives under our tuxes and gowns."

"We'll be careful, then," Seokjin says. "Not that we're ever not careful..."

Hoseok throws a dirty look at Taehyung who raises his hands in protest.

"So I'm going?" you ask.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Yoongi says. "It's your call."

"Since when is it her call?" Taehyung frowns. "It's really Boss' decision."

"I'll leave it up to Y/N, Taehyung. Don't worry," Seokjin says, smiling. "Yoongi's right. It is your call, Y/N."

"Wait, but that's—there's pressure now," you sigh, slouching in your chair. "I don't want to ruin tradition..."

"It's not as dangerous as Yoongi says," Jungkook offers, staring at you with puppy dog eyes. "Please, Y/N? Tae and I love going there."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, grunting but not saying anything.

"If Yoongi's such a good boyfriend, he'll prove to you that he can protect you," Taehyung snorts. "Besides, it's an extravagant gala! And Boss has already bought you a dress!"

"Wait, what?" you and Yoongi say at the same time.

"You bought me a dress?"

"You bought her a dress?" Yoongi gawks.

Seokjin smiles warmly at you. "Yes, I did. The gala's in a few days, so after my day job, I went to get a dress and called Taehyung over for a second opinion. He said something about how you look good in midnight blue."

"Yeah," you laugh. "I wore that color for all of the high school dances. Taehyung remembered?"

"We all did, frankly," Hoseok snorts. "You wouldn't shut up about your dresses in high school, remember?"

"I was excited!" you defend yourself. "And, I mean, if I already have a dress... I might as well go, right? I'm sure nothing too bad will happen."

"JK's a cop, Y/N. If Yoongi can't save your ass, he will," Taehyung jokes. "Think of it as a social gathering with a double meaning! Free food and alcohol included! But don't mess with anyone because they might spear your head to the wall."

You laugh nervously, unsure whether you should take that as a joke or not. "In that case, I think I'll be fine."

For an hour now, Jungkook and Taehyung have been fussing over you as they helped you get ready for the big gala. They'd tried to help you with your makeup, but Taehyung failed your winged eyeliner eight times so you banned him from touching your face again. Meanwhile, Jungkook accidentally knocked over your eyeshadow palette, reducing the assortments of colors into unusable powders. Looked like you were going without eyeshadow tonight. You had to threaten them with the hair curler at one point too because Taehyung wouldn't stop burning your ear to curl your hair.

Now, you were hiding out in your bathroom with the door locked, taking your sweet time to put on your dress.

"Did you put it on yet?" Taehyung calls for the billionth time.

Your groan, throwing your head back in annoyance as you try to shove the dress on your body. "I'm never gonna come out if you ask me that one more time!"

Taehyung shuts up after that.

You zip yourself up with no problem, admiring the way the dress is perfectly your size. When you turn to face yourself in the mirror, you can barely recognize yourself.

I look beautiful.

The dress hugs every curve of your body, the feather-like chiffon fanning out from your cinched waist. You like the human embodiment of the nighttime sky: soft, delicate but mysteriously dark. You feel like you're being taken to high school prom all over again, the familiar giddy feeling rising up your throat. Except—your date is not Taehyung. He is Yoongi. And this isn't a high school prom. There's a one in five hundred chance that you might be murdered tonight, but all of the Crescents promised you'd make it out alive. You know that if everyone—except Taehyung—makes a promise, they keep it. You feel much better about your safety.

When you walk out of the bathroom to twirl for your friends, you find that literally everyone is already in your room, waiting for you. They're dressed to the nines. If you combined the total costs of their well-ironed, stiff suits and their jewelry, the sum could have probably paid for your whole college tuition. They look rich, in other words.

"You took so long, JK and I had time to change into our tuxes," Taehyung laughs. "But damn, you look hot. You're welcome."

"Thanks," you mutter, sheepishly. "Jin, you really outdid yourself with this dress. Thank you."

Seokjin smiles. "No need to thank me. It had your name written all over it so I had to buy it. It fits you very nicely."

"You look beautiful, Y/N. And I got a matching tie. Do you like it?" Yoongi asks, grinning at you wildly, unable to take his eyes off of you. You giggle as you admire his all-black suit with a midnight blue tie.

"I love it, Yoongi," you smile. "This is like prom all over again."

"Rated R prom," Hoseok points out. "With the possibility of a brutal murder. Oh yeah, and drinks, sex and drugs. Here," he says, handing out a holster to you. "Just in case."

"Woah, um—" you start.

"And this is the gun you'll be using tonight if you were to get into any trouble," Yoongi says, handing you a pistol. "But you won't get into any trouble because I'll be by your side the whole time." He helps you strap the holster on your thigh, securing it and sliding the gun in. When the dress falls over your legs, it hides the lethal weapon from view.

"Oh, and blow this whistle only in an emergency and all six of us will be running to help you," Jungkook adds, handing you a safety whistle of all things. It was silver, matching all of your jewelry and if you hadn't known it was a whistle, you would've thought it was a beautiful necklace. You mumble a thanks before putting it on.

"Now you're more than prepared," Seokjin says, smiling. "How are you feeling, Y/N?"

You laugh nervously, weighing out the rather heavy gun on your leg before replying, "I honestly feel overprepared. I think I'll be fine."

Hoseok snorts. "Oh, honey, you are not overprepared. You should see some of the stuff I'm hiding up my sleeve right now—literally."

"He's right, Y/N, you can never be too overprepared," Yoongi says, moving in to link your arms together. "Don't let go of me when we get there, okay? They're good at sniffing out new meat. If we get separated, stay still and look like you belong there. Okay?"

You scrunch your nose at his strange directions (how the fuck do you look like you belong somewhere??) but you nod. "Okay."

It takes another hour for Yoongi to explain, in detail, what you should and shouldn't do at the party. The list for the shouldn't do's is way, way longer than the list for the should do's. But you're not complaining—especially when apparently a single slip-up could lead to your own demise. Yet even with all the warnings and precautions, you're not sure what to expect. To you, this seems like a high school prom that had gone through puberty. JK and Tae describe it as the best party ever and only Yoongi seems to be truly worried.

You conclude that yes, the gala is dangerous, but no, it wouldn't affect you too badly. You'd go and have some fun, get out of the house for once. Right?

And with that, the seven of you are off to one of the most dangerous parties in the city in a shiny, black limousine.

Saying that the gala is extravagant would be an understatement. Everything looks like it's been touched by gold from the heavens. The ceiling is so high, it looks like the sky itself and the luxurious marble floors stretch on forever. The majestic chandeliers illuminate the whole room with yellow light. The food towers over the guests and the casino tables are bustling with wealthy people seeking a truce with fortune. Everything about this place is gilded—even the people in it.

You can't help but feel a bit underdressed when some women strut around wearing dresses made from diamonds and aureate shoes. Maybe underdressed isn't the right word. You are intimidated. You hadn't expected to feel this way, but something just seems off. Maybe your expectations for the gala had been too high? Or maybe your gut instinct was trying to tell you something.

Yoongi notices your tense shoulders and squeezes your hand as he looks around the party. "I hate this fucking song," he jokes to lighten the mood.

You didn't even realize music was playing until he mentioned it; you had been too entranced by the visual aspects of your surroundings to notice the soft jazz melodies echoing through the open space.

"Namjoon and I are going to talk with some of our buddies," Seokjin says, "I'll meet all of you later for dinner! And Jungkook and Taehyung," he gives them a stern look, "we are not here to hook up with women."

Taehyung grumbles. "I thought we can. We're just not allowed to bring them home."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Jungkook sighs.

"I'll lend you money to waste at the tables," Hoseok says. "Taehyung, you're good at poker, right?"

"Oh, I'm the fucking best," Taehyung grins. "Let's go!"

The three of them saunter off without missing a beat while Seokjin and Namjoon disappear to talk with their 'friends,' or allies, you suspect. That leaves you and Yoongi alone.

"This place reminds me of a 1920's hedonistic jazz party, minus the flapper girls and plus the sugar babies dripping in gold," you whisper anxiously to Yoongi who chuckles quietly. He must've thought you were joking. But you were making an observation laced with concern.

"So, The Great Gatsby on steroids?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"What do you want to do?" Yoongi asks as he snakes an arm around your waist rather protectively.

"What is there to do?" you ask, stiffly. "You choose. I'll just follow."

But there is honestly nothing to do. Earlier, from the long list of things you shouldn't do, eating had been one of them—someone was murdered with cyanide in their caviar, once. You can't even walk around to give yourself a tour because that'd raise suspicion and someone would fling a knife straight at your heart. And most of all, you can definitely not act as if you've never been to the gala. They play with the new meat like they're toys, apparently. And if you don't respond to their demands, they'll kill you without a second thought. No wonder you're so tense. When Yoongi had warned you about these things, the reality of it had flown past your head. But actually experiencing it...

"We can grab a table somewhere," Yoongi says, rubbing warm circles on your back in an attempt to help you relax. "And we'll just talk. How does that sound?"

"Like this is a date?"

"Exactly," Yoongi says as he leads you to an empty table. He pulls out a chair for you and you mumble a thanks before sinking in. It's strangely silent after that. Which is weird because when you and Yoongi are silent, it's usually a peaceful, calming aura. But this kind of silence carries heavy tension and stress in the air.

You begin to fidget with your hands.

"Hey, beautiful," a gruff voice calls to you.

You nearly jump a foot in the air when you see a rather handsome man with a chiseled face looking right at you. He grins and before Yoongi can do anything, he's already kissing the back of your hand like he's some prince from a faraway land and you're the princess he's to marry.

"May I take you away?" he asks politely, staring straight at you and failing to acknowledge Yoongi. Though there's a warm smile on his lips, there's something into his eyes that screams red alert to you. You get a strong gut feeling this man isn't an innocent person wandering around this grand party—he's a man with purpose, possibly a man with weapons hidden under his suit. The gun in your holster begins to burn against your thigh.

"I'm afraid not, Junhe," Yoongi speaks up, his voice clean-cut and cold.

The middle-aged man, Junhe, cocks an eyebrow. "Oh, Yoongi. Didn't see you there," he smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'd say we let the fine lady decide. Would you like to come with me?" he asks you. "Or would you like to stay with his tedious man? I'll make sure I'm anything but stoic," he offers. "I'll give you the reactions you want."

You're already disgusted by the smoothness of his words. He's manipulative in all the wrong ways, you realize, so you politely refuse. "I'd like to stay," you reply, slightly leaning away from the man as he looms over you. "Yoongi brought me here so the least I can do is offer him my company."

Junhe scoffs and mumbles something about you having a bad taste in men before he glares at Yoongi and strides away.

"Sorry, Y/N," Yoongi apologizes. "He's just some guy I know from work."

You frown slightly. Which kind of work was he talking about? His job as an anesthesiologist or as a dealer for the Crescents? But you realize Yoongi had purposely been vague so you let the whole matter go.

You haven't yet released the tension on your shoulders since you first walked into the gala and that encounter with Junhe was not helping. You're awkwardly staring at your hands folded in your lap when Yoongi clears his throat.

"I, uh, I'm not too stoic, am I?"

"What?"

"I'm not too apathetic?" he asks again. "I don't want to be boring."

You shake your head though your body remains rigid. "It's part of you, Yoongi. And I like that about you. You don't dramatize anything."

Yoongi nods thoughtfully but you can tell he's troubled because there's a thin worry line dragging across his forehead. It's too bad both of you suck at small talk.

The silence between the two of you gives you time to drown in your worst fears. You've never quite liked crowds, but a crowd of highly-dangerous, rich folks is far worse than anything else you've ever experienced before. You can't trust anyone. You don't know who has a dagger literally hidden behind their back.

It also makes you realize you might not be safe.

Jimin's murderer could be here.

Chills run down your spine and your blood runs cold when you realize that a cold-hearted killer could be looking for you. Waiting to kill you like he killed your brother. Your eyes shake as you try to look around the room, trying to see if anyone is targeting you. God. Why did you agree to this? Why did anyone agree to this? Did they really think you could be safe?

With so many wealthy people here, it'd be easy to hide any murder with hush money. This is a mafia gala, for heaven's sake—the room is filled with people who have gotten away with murder once, twice or thrice. Maybe even countless times.

Suddenly the skin exposed on your arms feel prickly and cold and the hair tickling the back of your neck is irritable. You're getting a crazy feeling at the pit of your stomach that someone is watching you. Maybe you're being paranoid?

"Hey, you okay, Y/N? You're starting to sweat," Yoongi whispers. He reaches over to grab your hand across the table. "Do you feel sick?"

Your face is starting to feel hot and your head is starting to hurt. The room seems to spin. "I wanna go home," you whisper. "Please, Yoongi."

Yoongi hesitates. "Oh, Y/N—"

But he's interrupted by a series of muffled gunshots coming from near the gambling tables. Your heart drops. "Isn't that where Jungk—"

Yoongi takes you by the arm mid-sentence, dragging you further away from the commotion that was starting to pick up. "We'll get you home early."

"Wait, but—"

"There's nothing we can do, Y/N. I'm sure they're fine. We're just going to wait in the limo," he whispers lowly in your ear as he guides you steadily toward the exit. Your heart is threatening to leap out of your chest but he seems fine. Unbothered, even.

You squeeze your intertwined hands and you lean closer to Yoongi as he leads you out of the gala safely. He whispers not to look back, to act natural as the two of you make your way over to your parked limo.

The moment both of you get inside the luxury car, Yoongi pulls down the blinds and whips out his phone. He frantically texts someone—you assume it's Seokjin or Namjoon. You hold your breath for news.

After six painstakingly silent minutes, Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. "The rest of them are coming right now. Taehyung told me to not say anything as of now because he wants to tell you the story, himself."

"So they're okay?" you say. "But there was a murder?"

"There were several, today," Yoongi sighs. "But everyone we care for is okay." He reaches out to check your temperature, placing the back of his hand on your forehead as he caresses your cheek with his other hand. "Are you feeling better?"

You nod. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I just hated—"

"We've survived!!!" Taehyung sings as he swings open the door of the limo, nearly causing you to have a heart attack at the suddenness. "I'm here to spill the tea!"

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he steps into the car. "It wasn't really as creative this year," he grumbles. You grimace when you realize he's talking about the murders.

Everyone else fills in the car, all ears on Taehyung to tell the dramatized version of the story.

"So," Taehyung begins, his voice soft and eyes sparkling. "Hoseok, JK and I were minding our goddamn businesses at the gambling table. And I was kinda losing, you know? It's been a while since I played poker. So I had to fold and get the fuck out of there before Hoseok beat my ass for losing his money. And for some reason, I really had to pee, which was the universe's way to tell me I had to check out this awesome murder in the bathroom!"

Jungkook giggles. "I was there too! We walked in and it was just eerily quiet in there, you know?"

"Yeah, usually couples are getting it on in there, if you know what I mean," Taehyung snorts. "So JK and I are like 'oh, ha, that's strange,' but we don't think much of it until we see a pair of legs poking out of an open-doored stall."

"At this point, I'm cursing at these stupid hooligans because I'm holding their spot at the tables and they're taking too damn long to relieve themselves of piss," Hoseok sighs, shaking his head. "Didn't know they were going full-on detective-mode in the bathroom."

"Yeah, well my first reaction is, 'man, if you wanna fucking piss on the toilet at least close the stall door??' But then I realized there's blood on the floor," Taehyung says. "JK and I get closer and man it was INSANE!"

"He had a knife just stuck in his back! It was wedged so deep into him too," Jungkook marvels. "And the best part—"

"His face was in the fucking toilet!" Taehyung exclaims. "Whoever killed him was not playing around. I personally think they drowned him first, but JK thinks they stabbed him and pushed him into the toilet. But that would mean they'd had to have a spectacular aim if you know what I mean."

You squirm in Yoongi's arms, unsure if you wanted to hear the rest of the story. He notices your discomfort and sighs, "Let's not be so vulgar."

Taehyung rolls his eyes. "How can I not be vulgar? It's a fucking murder." But when he sees your scared face, he becomes more serious. "Well, JK and I weren't going to report the murder because we're not going to get involved. And besides, I bet we were probably the tenth people coming across that scene—no one wants to get involved in that gala. So we just left to find Hoseok again."

"And that's when I hear the gunshots," Hoseok says. "It came from the table behind me, too, so I got to see everything." He crosses his legs and arms, scoffing. "Three men fell down. I left before a fight broke out."

"Four murders," Seokjin shakes his head. "That we know of, too. It gets worse every year, doesn't it?" Even though he speaks of bad news, he smiles, stretching out on the expensive leather seats. "But Joon and I got our jobs done. Yoongi, Hoseok, Y/N? We've got some good sales on the way."

"Delightful," Hoseok says.

"I think we'd better get home, now," Jin says, trying to give you a reassuring smile. "Y/N, you'd appreciate a nice, warm, bath, right? I'll try to dig out some of my special bath salts for you. I think you need a good soak."

You nod, though you grip at Yoongi's black silk button-up shirt.

Home has never sounded this welcoming.

Though Yoongi offered to soak with you in the tub, you'd declined, telling him instead you'd meet him in your pajamas in his room. He'd nodded without saying another word, and you silently thank him for knowing when to give you some space.

Seokjin had been right. A hot bath did really help—yet it didn't help clear your head filled to the brim with thoughts. Once you've lathered yourself with lavender lotion and gotten dressed into comfortable clothing, you knock on Yoongi's door.

"Hey," he says, opening it right away. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

"Yeah," you nod.

Yoongi guides you over to his bed, helping you into the covers and tucking you in before he climbs in and spoons you from behind. There's a comfortable silence. Then:

"How long did it take you to get used to this?" you ask.

"This?" Yoongi inquires. "You mean life as a..." he pauses, "Crescent?"

You nod.

"Not a while, really," Yoongi says, curling his fingers into your hair. "It... Well, it takes longer for others to adjust. Depends on the person."

"Hmm," you hum softly. "The murders today... Do you think they were correlated?"

"It could be anything," Yoongi answers. "But no, I don't think they were correlated."

"But either way, there were murders because there were enemies at the gala," you sigh, turning around to face Yoongi. "I was just so tense all the time. I think I subconsciously felt the tension between the gangs."

Your boyfriend shrugs. "Maybe, Y/N. But sometimes new recruits have to murder someone—anyone—to be accepted completely into the gang," he sighs. "Think of it as a token to join," he expounds further when he sees your confused expression. "The more tortuous the murder, the better. It's happened every year at the gala."

"But that makes the murder worse," you scoff. "At least if they were enemies, the victim might've seen it coming. But if the victim was chosen randomly—that's just the worst kind of misfortune!"

"I know," Yoongi mumbles. "It's not fair, Y/N. We all know that."

The way he's so nonchalant irritates you. "But, Yoongi! I could've died tonight," you sigh. "You know, the person who murdered Jimin could've been right there, waiting for the right time to kill me!" You shudder just thinking about it. "I didn't realize how unsafe I felt until I was at the gala, Yoongi. I don't know if I was being paranoid but I really felt like I was being watched. I could've been killed..."

Yoongi's silent, refusing to look into your eyes. Finally, he answers with a soft, husky voice. "I wouldn't have let that happen to you."

You scoff, sitting up and tugging yourself out of Yoongi's arms. "Really?" You raise a doubtful eyebrow. "You let it happen to my brother, though." You regret the words that had spilled out of your lips when you see Yoongi's hurt face. An awkward silence follows and neither of you moves.

Finally, Yoongi turns around, facing away from you as he grunts out, "Go to sleep, Y/N."

You don't have it in you to apologize, half angry at Yoongi for not protecting your brother like he swore to protect you and half sorry that you let out your fear and frustration on him. Without another word, you tuck yourself back in the blankets, back facing Yoongi. You stay still, staring into the dark nothingness as you wait until Yoongi's breaths become even. When you know he's asleep for sure, you slip out of his bed.

You can't do this right now.

Yoongi's supposed to be the one who makes you forget about your dead brother. But he's doing everything but.

You need to read Jimin's diary to calm yourself down. The only thing you need right now is to hear your brother's soothing voice echoing in your head as you read the words he had written years back. Quickly, you find refuge in your own room, snuggling up in your own covers before pulling out the leather journal from underneath the mattress.

You open the diary and read it in the faint moonlight.

Today, I woke up because I thought I heard Y/N’s voice calling my name somewhere off in the distance. I imagined that she was calling me a lazy stink bomb and pestering me to wake up so I could keep her company. But when I came to my senses, I realized that Y/N’s probably still sleeping in her apartment and I’m in a mansion miles and miles away from her. Part of me feels guilty for living such a luxurious life without her. But another part knows that what I did is for her own good. I think.

Sometimes I just want to drive back and tell her I’m sorry I left her. That I’m sorry I didn’t give her any explanations. That she has to lie to our parents for me. She must be so mad at me...

I feel like I left my blood-related family for my self-proclaimed brothers. On some days, I wonder if I made the right move. But then again, I can’t imagine a life without my friends and I’ve lived more than half of my life without my parents by my side.

The only person who has to face the consequences is Y/N. I abandoned her to pursue my own dream life. I know it’s selfish of me but for once, I felt like doing something for myself.

I drowned in guilt for the majority of today. Y/N’s most likely called me at least a hundred times on my old phone... I can’t even bring myself to imagine the disappointed look on her face when I don’t pick up. I had to stop myself at least twenty times from dialing her number to call her. God, I’m just getting so homesick. I think I stared at those polaroid pictures for hours on end today.

I miss Y/N.

Maybe one day, when this... all of this dies down, I’ll be able to visit her. I’ll be able to tell her everything I experienced and before she gets mad at me, I’ll tell her my funniest stories! It’d be like I never left. I guess I’ll be waiting for that day to come.

For now, I have my polaroids and drawings for remembrance. I’ll go to bed hearing Y/N scream at me to toss my socks into the laundry basket. And for once, it’d be a welcoming noise.

You can't help the tears dripping down your face when you reluctantly shut the leather-bounded notebook This is the first time Jimin had mentioned you in his diary... which meant that in his future entries, he completely neglected to write about you or just... didn't care as much. It hurts to think, really. That every real feeling Jimin has, he ditches it the more he becomes involved in the mafia.

You fall asleep alone on your bed, but you don't feel lonely. Usually, Yoongi would be by your side to take your mind off of your brother's murder, but today, you need time to think about it.

The last thing you think you hear before you drowse off is the sound of your brother screaming at you that yes, he already did toss his socks into the laundry basket, so no, you didn't have to yell at him. Normally this kind of reply would irritate you even more, but it's a cordial illusion that brings a smile to your face before you're drifting off to dreamland.

—previous | next

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

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kurowrites · 5 years ago

Text

Snow - Chapter 10

Entire fic. AO3.

Uh... I would like to file a formal apology to everyone involved?

---

By the time Wei Ying arrives at Lan Zhan’s house, he’s a huge, anxious mess.

When Lan Zhan asked Wei Ying to join him and his brother for brunch on Saturday a few days ago, he agreed lightly, thinking that it would be fun. Well, he thought mostly about the delicious food Lan Zhan was certain to serve, and how interesting it would be to meet someone that has seen Lan Zhan grow up.

On Friday evening, he suddenly remembered that he is Lan Zhan’s sugar baby, and that Lan Zhan’s brother probably doesn’t know about that little detail. How is Lan Zhan even going to introduce him? He’s not going to want to tell his brother that… well. That. But then Lan Qiren seems to know about their relationship? He’s been going back and forth ever since, and has failed to arrive at any good conclusion.

Still, it’s far too late to cancel now. Lan Zhan wants him there, wants him to come and meet his brother, so it’s really not Wei Ying that needs to be worried about confessing the exact nature of their relationship to Lan Zhan’s family. And he’s charming, Wei Ying tells himself. He’s charming and he can simply pretend to be a good friend of Lan Zhan’s and there will be nothing strange about it at all. They will have a good time, and Wei Ying will go home, and it will be fine.

Steading himself, he knocks at the door of the old house, and almost immediately, Lan Zhan opens the door and smiles at Wei Ying.

The smile, more than anything, takes him aback. Lan Zhan never smiles at him like that.

Wei Ying has also never seen him wear steel blue.

He hesitates for what’s probably far too long, not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“Xiongzhang,” comes a disapproving voice behind Lan Zhan, and – that’s Lan Zhan’s voice.

Smiling Lan Zhan steps aside to make room for disapproving Lan Zhan, and yes, that’s the Lan Zhan that he knows.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims happily.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, and Wei Ying basks a little in the warmth of Lan Zhan saying his name. He looks good today, too, wearing a light grey sweater with – yes, that’s a small white rabbit where usually the shirt pocket would sit.

Lan Zhan turns towards his copy, no doubt his elder brother, and frowns at him. “Do not play tricks on Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan’s brother laughs and apologises. “Sorry, sorry. I was just curious. But Wei Ying realised immediately that I’m not you.”

Lan Zhan looks the tiniest bit mollified, and turns back to Wei Ying.

“Wei Ying, this is my older brother, Lan Huan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lan Huan,” Wei Ying says in his best attempt at good manners. Still, he can’t help but be curious. “You two do look remarkably alike. How many years are you apart?”

“Two,” Lan Huan answers easily. “It’s nice to meet you too, Wei Ying. I’ve heard a lot about you and have been looking forward to meeting you.”

Wei Ying laughs a little nervously. “You’ll have a terrible impression of me by now, then.”

If he knows about the fight between Lan Zhan and Lan Qiren, his impression must be worse than terrible, no doubt. He’s known Lan Zhan for what, three weeks? And has already caused strife in the family.

“Not at all,” Lan Zhan assures him as he smiles again. “Lan Zhan might not be much of a talker, but he says enough for me to understand the rest.”

Wei Ying tries not to blush. Was that a subtle hint that Lan Huan knows that Lan Zhan is Wei Ying’s sugar daddy? Somehow, the thought is extremely embarrassing. He doesn’t know about Lan Zhan, but Wei Ying would probably die if his sister found out he’s having kinky sex with a rich man for material favours.

He doesn’t have the same inhibition with Jiang Cheng though. Jiang Cheng can get traumatized for all he cares. He’d probably rub it under A-Cheng’s nose, if he got the chance.

“Lan Zhan is rather taciturn, no?” he says loudly, patting Lan Zhan’s arm. “He never says anything, but when I talk too much, he always goes–” he imitates Lan Zhan’s “You are being stupid” face that’s just slightly left of his “I am being stubborn and refuse to listen” face, “though I’m immune to it now. It was rather funny though when he pulled that face on a rude server in a restaurant two days ago. He was like–”

He breaks off suddenly, realising that he’s talking too much, and that Lan Huan might not appreciate being regaled with a story about a homophobic server that told them to take their gay asses out the door and leave. That comment had not gone down well with Lan Zhan. But Wei Ying isn’t sure about Lan Huan’s stance towards homosexuality. His uncle seems to be aware that Lan Zhan likes men, and Lan Zhan did say that Lan Huan is supportive, but…

“Ah, the server at the seafood restaurant?” Lan Huan asks, and there’s a look of something in his eyes. “That has been taken care of.”

Wei Ying looks at Lan Zhan, a little confused, but Lan Zhan doesn’t explain. He simply puts his hand on the small of Wei Ying’s back, pushes him through the door and inside the house, takes off his jacket and scarf, and then marches him to the dining table, Lan Huan following them.

The table is already laden with food, and Lan Zhan goes into the kitchen to pick up some bamboo baskets that have just finished steaming. It’s a veritable feast. Wei Ying has no idea how three people are supposed to eat all this food. They might need three days to finish it all.

“Please, have a seat,” Lan Huan tells him, and Wei Ying sits down opposite Lan Huan.

“Do you also cook, or is this all Lan Zhan’s doing?” he asks as he surveys the food.

Lan Zhan brings in several baskets of xiaolongbao, probably because Wei Ying went a little wild for them the last time they had Dim Sum, but the selection of foods on the table is eclectic this time. There are pancakes. And fresh strawberries. Everything smells and looks delicious, and Wei Ying has no idea where she should even start. He wants to stuff everything into his mouth at the same time.

“I do,” Lan Huan chuckles. “But I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I’m better or more enthusiastic than A-Zhan.”

“He’s a very good cook, isn’t he,” Wei Ying says proudly. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’ve been doing before I met him. I’m addicted to his cooking now. I will probably starve to death when he stops feeding me.”

“Wei Ying should also learn how to cook,” Lan Zhan says primly as he finishes arranging the bamboo baskets on the table and takes a seat next to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying laughs. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. What words! You’ve eaten my congee. You know I shouldn’t be left anywhere near a spice rack at any cost.”

Lan Huan looks between the two of them and raises his eyebrows.

“Eat,” Lan Zhan prompts.

“Don’t try to change the topic, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughs again. Still, he’s quick to secure the best xiaolongbao for himself. After a moment of hesitation, he decides to also put one of them on Lan Zhan’s plate. Lan Zhan deserves good things, after all. “You kept your face carefully neutral, but don’t think I didn’t see you sweating.”

“It was not so bad,” Lan Zhan insists, taking the dumpling Wei YIng has given him, eating it carefully so the broth won’t drip all over the place.

“So you’re saying you’d eat it again?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agrees.

Wei Ying looks at Lan Huan with a mischievous smile. “Your brother is very courageous. He’s not afraid of a brush with death.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Lan Huan assures him. It’s very nice of him, but he’s never eaten Wei Ying’s cooking and doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Well, I like it,” Wei Ying says. “But my brother refuses to even touch a bowl of food I’ve made. And even my sister, who’s an angel otherwise, gets that look in her eyes when she finds me in the kitchen. She’s also an excellent cook, her pork rib and lotus soup is divine.”

Lan Zhan’s xiaolongbao are a hot contender for one of the top three spots in the ranking of Wei Ying’s favourite foods, though. They’re orgasmic. He can barely keep himself from moaning as he eats three of them in quick succession.

“These are also divine,” he says with conviction. “I’m positive you’ve laced them with some kind of drug. I’m definitely addicted to them. I wouldn’t be sad if these were the only food I was allowed to eat until the end of my life.”

“Indeed,” Lan Huan agrees with a smile at Lan Zhan. “They are very good.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan says, as if such an amazing achievement is somehow normal and not at all something to be proud of.

“Don’t dismiss my compliments like that, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims, poking Lan Zhan in his cheek. Lan Zhan levels a flat look at him. “You should be a little proud of your skills!”

“Lan Zhan has always been very humble,” Lan Huan agrees. “Despite his many achievements.”

“I know!” Wei Ying enthusiastically agrees. “I don’t understand how he’s always so… Lan Zhan. If I were him, I’d be the biggest brat ever.”

“He wouldn’t be A-Zhan then, would be?” Lan Huan asks.

“No,” Wei Ying agrees, smiling at Lan Zhan. “No, he wouldn’t.”

Lan Zhan seems to be rather uncomfortable with the fact that all the attention of the table is currently focused on him, and ignores both of them in favour of elegantly picking out his food and eating it. But Wei Ying is happy. Lan Zhan’s brother evidently loves Lan Zhan very much, and Wei Ying couldn’t agree more. There isn’t a single unlovable quality about Lan Zhan. It’s good to see that he and Lan Huan are on the same page here.

They eat in silence for a short while, but before long, Lan Huan speaks up again.

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Wei Ying?” he asks. “You’re not from here, am I right?”

There it is, Wei Ying’s least favourite topic. Lan Zhan has never asked him about his past, which is really nice of him, but of course Lan Huan wants to know exactly what kind of critter his little brother is associating with.

“I grew up in Hubei Province,” he says succinctly. “Not too far away from Wuhan. Managed to get a nice full scholarship for my studies and came here.”

“You were not born in Hubei?” Lan Huan asks, and it’s exactly the topic Wei Ying wanted to avoid.

“No,” he says distantly. “I was born in Beijing, but lived in many different places… before my real parents died. I only moved to Hubei when the Jiang family adopted me.”

“So you’ve also lived in Suzhou before?” Lan Huan asks conversationally, but Wei Ying isn’t insensible of the probing gaze that Lan Huan has trained on him.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Zhan says sharply.

“Forgive me,” Lan Huan replies mildly. “I was simply curious.”

Wei Ying is sure that Lan Huan means no actual harm by his questioning, but it also provokes him. What right does anyone have to dig in his past? He’s lived through it, it’s the past, he doesn’t want to dig out the skeletons in his closet. Everyone and their dog loves reminding him that he’s not worth shit because his parents had the impudence to die and leave behind an uppity little brat with a mouth too big for his body.

“I’ve lived in Suzhou before, yes,” he says coldly. “And, as I’m sure you can find out if you dig through my documentation, you will also find that my parents died in Suzhou, that I was brought to an orphanage in Suzhou, that I fled said orphanage after a few weeks and lived on the streets of Suzhou for a while. Until I was adopted, to be exact. Is that enough information now, or do you have any other questions?”

Lan Huan, to his credit, remains entirely calm in the face of Wei Ying’s anger and incivility.

“Just one,” he says. “How come that a family in Hubei ended up adopting you when you were living on the streets of Suzhou, 800 kilometres away?”

“I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t care,” Wei Ying hisses. “Jiang Fengmian was an old friend of my parents and had been looking for me, apparently. How he found me, I don’t know. But I was desperate enough at the time to have gone home with anyone.”

Lan Zhan suddenly pushes back his chair, almost toppling it over. He stands up and strides out of the room without uttering a single word.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying calls after him, surprised at the suddenness of his actions.

“A-Zhan!” Lan Huan exclaims at the same time. And then, a little more sharply, “Wangji!”

Something in Wei Ying freezes, cold as ice.

“Wangji?” he asks, his voice faint.

Lan Huan looks at Wei Ying, his expression a little surprised. “Yes, Lan Wangji. His art name. We use them when we perform. Please excuse me.”

Lan Huan gets up from the table as well, and vanishes out of the room.

Wei Ying sits there for a moment, frozen. Alone. The delicious food in front of him forgotten.

Wangji.

Lan Wangji.

There is a strange, buzzing sound echoing in his ears. He tries to stand up, tries to follow Lan Zhan to wherever he’s gone, but his legs won’t carry him. His knees buckle under his weight. He grasps for the edge of the table, but his fingers slide over the glossy wood, unable to latch on.

His last thought is that he’s going to fall face first onto the floor, and that it’s going to hurt.

Wangji.

“Wangji! Wangji, wait for me! Hey! Wangji!”

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #snow fic

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 22

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007

She stands at the kitchen sink, watching through the window as they sit side by side at the patio table. Millie already in her pajamas, hair still damp from a bath, Tyler in a pair of weathered old sweatpants and tattered t-shirt. Their resemblance striking; same color and texture of hair, same ears and profile, even the same shaped lips and those brilliant blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes. She’s her father’s child; even more so than the boys; sharing not only physical appearance, but facial expressions and body language. Even now their faces mirror each other: eyes narrowed, and brows pinched together, mouth set in a thin, stern line. A staring contest and a battle of wills that’s lasted for more than a minute with no sign of either weakening or wavering. Millie strict and demanding over how she wants things done when it comes to her birthday invitations, her father wondering just how the hell he’d managed to get himself into such a mess in the first place. They're both ferociously stubborn; Millie even more so. And she always wins; no one is immune to that mop of hair and those eyes and that little voice.

Her father is especially weak when it comes to her. An almost six-year-old able to bring a man that size, and who possesses so much strength and power, to his knees. She’s his number one weakness; always balking at scolding her even when she deserves it, succumbing to all the begging and pleading for ‘one more’ bedtime story even though it always turns into five, finding it incredibly hard to say no and very rarely doing so. While his bond with all the kids is strong, the one with Millie is even more so. Perhaps because she’s the first after Austin’s death; a rainbow baby of sorts. Or maybe because she represents the start of his new life; his second chance. A man that had so little to live for suddenly being given everything to live for. She had been conceived in the most unconventional of place during the most unconventional of times. A little blue-eyed miracle that reminds him every day of just how lucky he is to be on this side of the ground.

“Daddy....I am telling you...” Millie finally speaks, her facial expression never changing and her eyes never wavering from his. “...you HAVE to use the glitter.”

“But I don’t want to use it. That shit gets everywhere. You do it the way you want. Then your mom can bitch at you for getting it all over the place.”

“She’ll bitch at you for letting me use glitter without supervision.”

“I am sitting right here. I am supervising.”

“But you gotta use it too,” she insists. “Or the cards won’t match.”

“They don’t have to, Martha Stewart. Relax.”

“Yes. They do have to match. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Amelia...”

She giggles. “Daddy...”

“You’re not the boss.”

“Neither are you. You just think you are. Mommy’s the boss. Your boss.”

Tyler frowns. “Is that what she said?”

“She doesn’t need to say it. It’s just the way it is. And mommy would tell you to use the glitter too.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit. She’d never say that. She hates glitter.”

“She hates play-doh and slime,” Millie argues.

“And glitter.”

“She never said that!”

“Excuse me? Yes, she did. After your brother got mad at you and dumped a whole container of it in your backpack. Remember? When we still lived at the old house?”

“Oh yeah,” Millie scowls, then pulls her top lip between her teeth and then releases it with an audible ‘pop’. “...well I guess that means you should be really, really careful with it then.”

“I guess that means you should get someone else to help. A glitter bitch.”

“Daddy! That’s a bad word! Why do you have to give me such a hard time? Don’t be like all the other boys in the house. Please don’t.”

“How would like another brother?” Tyler counters.

She gives a dramatic gasp. “Why would you do me like that? Isn’t three enough? Why so many boys? Boys are dumb. And annoying. Except you of course.”

Grinning, he lays a hand on the top of her head and presses a noisy kiss to her temple. “You are so lucky you added that last part.”

“Why? What would you do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.”

“You know what?” His voice and face are stern at first, but then a slow grins spreads from ear to ear and he scoops her up and places her in his lap; pressing kisses against her cheeks and rubbing his beard against her skin until she’s giggling and squirming in a half assed attempt to escape; little hands on his cheeks trying to push him away, the squeals becoming even louder when his fingers dig into her stomach and start tickling.

“What?” Millie asks, when the playful assault ends, and she kneels in his lap facing him; hands delicately cradling his face, a look of pure adoration on her face as she regards him. “What daddy?”

“Get back in your seat and hand me the goddamn glitter.”

Esme laughs and then turns away from the window, busying herself with making a tea and a coffee and tidying the kitchen. The house is eerily quiet for only nine at night; both Declan and Addie fast asleep upstairs, Mac curled up under her crib, snoring lightly. Normally the twins are still tearing around. Either tormenting one another or their older sister or burning off the last of their energy in the pool or down on the beach. She misses them; the dirty handprints that she is constantly wiping off every surface, the sand that they track through every inch of the house, those little voices –and even their squabbling- and the way they eventually fall asleep either spread out on the couch with the tops of their heads touching, or on the bottom bunk pressed back to back.

They’re a handful and have been since day one; a pregnancy filled with complications and scares. But they’re a joy. Rambunctious and mischievous. Fearless to a fault. Always willing to try new adventures, as long as they’re together for them.

The sun is beginning to set as she steps out onto the patio, and the strings of solar powered white lights wrapped around the patio railings springing to life, bathing the area in a soft, almost soothing glow. And she places the steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her husband, then lays a hand on the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Despite the outwardly display of confidence and the rare genuine smile that crosses his face, he’s struggling. The last couple of days have been especially rough; medications not enough to take away that edge and that sense of impending doom she knows he’s feeling. It’s so many things: TJ’s troubles, Millie’s rapidly approaching sixth birthday, the situation with Ovi and the very real possibility of having to get back in the game. But he gives her an appreciative smile and lays a hand on her hip; gently squeezing before allowing his hand to lightly slide over her ass.

“Just what are you guys doing?” she inquires and slips into the chair at the head of the table; a foot on the seat, bottom of her hoodie pulled over her knee.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Tyler admits. “I just do what I’m told.”

“We’re making birthday invitations,” Millie says. “Glittery ones.”

“Yeah...I see that...” Esme frowns, then moves her seat back from the table to avoid any wayward sparkles. “You know that crap is going to be everywhere for weeks, right?”

“Daddy already has it in his hair,” Millie giggles. “And in his beard.”

“Because you thought it would be hilarious to dump glitter in your hands and rub them all over my head,” he complains.

“It was funny!” she exclaims. “You’re going to be sparkly forever now. A sparkly daddy.”

“Like one of those vampires in Twilight,” Esme muses, and he gives her a dirty look. “Just much more handsome.”

“I have vampires,” Millie announces. “Daddy could kick their asses.”

“Damn right,” he agrees.

“Daddy would kick all the monsters’ asses, right daddy? Like you kicked all the bad guys asses. Do you miss kicking bad guys’ asses?”

“You know what I miss? I miss when you didn’t say ass every five seconds.”

“Better than the s word or the f word,” she reasons, and kneels in her chair to reach for plastic container full of pencil crayons sitting in the middle of the table. “Do you? Miss kicking the bad guys’ asses?”

“Nope,” he quickly replies. “I don’t.”

Esme knows it isn’t the entire truth; someone just doesn’t give up a job...a life...like the one he’d been leading and not experience some fall out. It’s fast paced and generous; living life constantly on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Days and sometimes weeks of putting your ass on the line to help a stranger; shedding a lot of blood, sweat, and tears for that pay out in the end. The job is exhilarating; every mercenary will admit to that. That there’s a certain rush that comes with the intensity. And most won’t say it out loud, but there’s a feeling of satisfaction you get when you witness revenge and karma up close; even if it means you’re delivering them yourself with your bare hands.

His entire adult has been that existence. First the military, then the job. And there’s no way he doesn’t miss. It’s quite the change; going from that life to one of routine and domesticity.

“I bet the bad guys don’t miss you,” Millie muses. “They were tired of getting their asses kicked. But who does it now that you don’t? Who goes after the bad people?”

“Other guys,” Tyler responds.

“What other guys?”

“Guys like me. Who do that sort of thing. There’s lots of guys like that out there.”

“And girls too?”

“I guess. I suppose there’s girls out there that do that kind of thing. Mommy did.”

Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table, then shakes her head when he gives her a quizzical look.

“Mommy sort of did that job,” he quickly adds. “She helped guys like me out. She helped track down the bad people and then told guys like me where we could find them.”

“Mmmm...” Millie considers this, head cocked to the side, eyes focused on the drawing she’s creating. “....is that how you met?”

“Yup. When I used to live here before I had you or your sister or your brothers.”

“In this house?”

“Not in THIS house. In my old house. Well it wasn’t really a house. It was more like a shack. But there’s where I met mommy. A long time ago. Auntie Nik brought her there and introduced us.”

“We should go there sometime,” Millie suggests. “To your old place. To see it. Who lives there now?”

“A friend of mine. You met him a few times when you were a baby.”

“I want to go there,” she decides. “To your old place. I want to see where you met mommy. Is that where you helped put me in her tummy?”

“No. That happened somewhere else,” Esme speaks up. “In an entirely different country. In Bangladesh. A place called Dhaka. Daddy and I were working there. That’s where you were made.”

“We should go there too,” Millie concludes.

“Yeah, that’s a no from me,” Tyler says. “That’s not a place I want to go back to.”

“Is that where you almost died?”

Esme watches her husband’s face; mug pressed against her lips as she waits for his reaction. Noticing the small intake of breath and the slow, steady way he releases it. The way his shoulders tense and his leg begins to shake back and forth underneath the table.

“Yeah...” he finally speaks, then turns his attention towards the craft in front of him. His eyes are dark and that vein in his neck...the one that had to be surgically repaired after being blown out by Farhad- begins to pulsate. “...that’s where I almost died.”

“How?” Millie asks.

“You know what,” Esme comes to his aid. “This isn’t a good time to talk about these kinds of things. Not so close to bedtime, okay Millie? It will give you nightmares and as much as we love you, we don’t want you sleeping with us until you’re eighteen.”

“It won’t give me nightmares,” she argues. “I’m fine.”

“Amelia...” Her tone and her face are stern; the warning in her voice noticeable enough that her daughter looks up at her. “Not right now. Thank you.”

Silence falls on the table, no further conversation for several minutes. Nothing but the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, the slight rustle of the trees, and the soft scrape of pencil crayons against paper. And Tyler reaches under the table to lay a hand on Esme’s thigh, squeezing lightly and giving her a small, grateful smile. There are days when he can talk openly and honestly about what happened in Dhaka. He was able to tell the therapist the whole story without even breaking a nervous sweat. But there’s other times where it’s unbearable; the memories too strong and too painful. The mental wounds still too fresh and feeling still too raw.

“Look at you,” Esme laughs, and the lays a hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her. “You have glitter everywhere. It’s all in your beard. It looks like you went down on a stripper. I hope you don’t think you’re coming near my bits looking like that.”

He grins. “Oh, I so am.”

“Like hell you are. Last thing I need is being sparkly down there. I don’t know how you’re going to get all that out of there,” she vigorously rubs her palms against her beard, then frowns as she studies the purple and silver flecks left behind on her skin. “It couldn’t at least be a good color that brings out your eyes?”

“Might have to just shave the whole thing off,” he says.

“Like hell you will. We’ve talked about this. Do you want a divorce? Because that’s how you get a divorce.”

“You don’t even know what I look like clean shaven.”

“You’re not Tyler without a beard. Your kids won’t even recognize you. That's how they know you. That’s how I know you.”

“Don’t do it, daddy,” Millie implores. “You’ll look totally different. Like a stranger. I want you to look like daddy.”

“Two against one,” Esme says. “The beard stays.”

“You only look like the beard because when we do...well when I do...you know... you like the way it feels.”

“I’ll give you that. But it’s also because it’s rugged and manly and you look so freaking sexy with it. Even with silver and purple glitter in it. Speaking of glitter....” she stands up and picks up on of the finished creations. “...I take it she mentioned her party and you went along with it.”

“Come on, you knew I wouldn’t say no.”

“I did,” she admits. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to be completely uncomfortable and miserable, either. That’s a lot of people. Here. In your space. I know how much you value your space. So, if you think it’s too much to deal with...”

“I’ll be okay,” he says. “I’ll deal.”

She stares at him pointedly, brows arches.

“I’ll be fine, babe,” he assures her, and reaches out to lay a hand on the small of her back. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Daddy’s tough,” Millie declares. “Super tough.”

“Yes,” her mother agrees. “The toughest guy I’ve ever known, that’s for sure.”

“Is that why you fell in love with him?” Millie inquires. “Because he’s tough?”

“There’s a lot of reasons why I fell with him,” Esme replies, as she sits back down in her seat and places her feet in her husband’s lap. “I guess being tough was once of them. Because I knew that I’d always be safe, and I’d have nothing to be scared of when he’s around. That he'd always be willing to protect me and be able to physically do it.”

Tyler smiles and gives her a wink, his hand giving her foot a squeeze.

“He also had really cool hair and crazy beautiful eyes,” she continues. “And big arms. Not to mention that face. Pretty damn handsome, I think. He was kind of mean though. When we first met.”

Millie’s eyes widen as she looks towards her father. “You were mean? To mommy?! Did you make her cry?”

“I did not make her cry and I was not mean.”

“Not right away,” Esme says. “But he got really mean and really bossy when we got to Dhaka.”

“Listen, your mom’s not telling you the truth,” Tyler address his little girl. “I got a little mean, yeah. You want to know why? Because even then your mommy didn’t like to listen to a word I say. And I was in charge and she did something I told her not to and she got in trouble and I got mad.”

“I just put him in his place though,” Esme says with a shrug as she sips her tea. “That just made him even more mad and even meaner. Deep down though, I think he liked it. A woman being all assertive and aggressive with him.”

“I’m not afraid to admit that I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“That was obvious,” Esme grins, and presses her toes into his crotch.

“You think I’m tough, Millie? Your mom’s even tougher than I am. Hands down the toughest woman...person...I’ve ever met. She’s little, but she’s bad ass.”

“Like me!” Millie cheerfully exclaims.

“You’re exactly like her in a lot of ways. You know how tough someone has to be to trick the bad guys into telling her secrets and letting her know where they are? Crazy tough. When you get older, I’ll tell you a story about how she handled things in Ireland against some pretty scary people. She went in there and talked them all by herself. She wasn’t even scared. Not for a second. I was proud of her. Insanely proud.”

“Don’t make me cry,” Esme pleads, and gives him a brilliant smile. “Because my hormones are all over the place since having your daughter and I’m liable to bawl at anything.”

“Mommy’s the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” he continues. “Not a lot of people would do what she did. When she stuck around to help me in Dhaka. No one else was going to do it. I would have died if she hadn’t had been there.”

“But you didn’t,” Esme says. “And that’s all that matters.”

She hates being praised for it; truly believing that she’d done what anyone with a conscience and an ounce of compassion would have done in that situation. Ovi had been too young; there’s no way he should have had to spring into action and shoulder that kind of responsibility. But there’d been no excuse for Nik. There were other team members there; they could have easily kept the situation under control while she held; at least lending a hand to control the bleeding long enough to get him into the chopper and get both Ovi AND him out of there.

And she’ll hold that grudge for the rest of her life; every time the subject of Dhaka comes up or she looks at the scar on her husband’s neck.

****

Ovi arrives just as darkness fully sets in, standing on the bottom step of the patio; cautiously watching them for several minutes, hands shoved in his pockets, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You don’t have to just stand there, mate,” Tyler speaks up. “You can join us, you know.”

The younger man breathes a sigh of relief as he climbs the steps, giving Esme a small, apologetic smile which she returns with a curt one of her own before looking away. Their talk the night before had left a bitter taste in both of their mouths; she’d been harsh and brutally honest and refuses to make any apologies for it. She doesn’t understand how, despite all of the things he’s seen and heard in Dhaka and the years following it, that he can be so steadfast about diving headfirst into such a dangerous life. She’d laid out the hardest of truths she possibly could; the long-lasting effects on Tyler’s mental and physical health, the demons and the monsters that prey on every day, the trickle-down effects and impacts the entire family. Yet he remains determined. Either too stubborn to face the truth, or too just immature and ignorant.

“Millie, why don’t we go inside and get a bedtime snack,” Esme suggests, when Ovi steps up onto the patio, finishing the last of her tea and pushing her chair away from the table. “You can finish these tomorrow, okay? I think daddy’s had just about as much glitter and coloring he can take.”

“Okay,” she willingly –and surprisingly- agrees. “You’ll still tuck me in right, daddy?”

“You know it. Just come and get me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Nodding, she curls an arm around his neck and sweetly pecks his lips. Then scurries over to Ovi and wraps her arms around his, tightly squeezing.

“I can’t deal with this tonight,” Esme says, when Tyler catches her by the wrist before she can leave, a concerned and almost puzzled look on his face. “I don’t want to deal with it all. You do what you have to do. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

He nods in understanding, and she leans down to press a soft, quick kiss to his lips before ushering Millie into the house.

“I think she’s still mad,” Ovi comments, as he drops into a chair at the end of the table.

“Really?” Tyler scoffs. “What gave you that impression?”

Standing, he begins tidying up the table, stuffing pencil crayons, glue sticks, and tubes of sparkles into small plastic storage containers. A far cry from when his hands used to inflict pain and even death on others; glitter caked under his nails and stuck to his fingers as opposed to blood and dirt. And it horrifies him how disappointed he feels over the thought; how blood seemed so much better and easy to accept than a child’s craft supplies. It’s not the first time in six months he’s missed what things were like before, and he knows it won’t be the last. That it will always be there; that side of him that had actually enjoyed the job and the payday that came with.

And it fucking disgusts him.

“I understand why she’s upset,” Ovi says.

Tyler regards him, eyebrow arched. “Do you? ‘Cause I don’t think you do.”

“She doesn’t want you getting back into this. Into that job. Into the job. Because if what happened in New Zealand.”

“Do you even understand what went on there? Why I left? Why I called it quits and came home? Because something tells me you don’t.”

“Mental health issues.”

“That’s part of it. I came home because I couldn’t fucking do it anymore. I’d had enough. Of that life and all the bullshit that came with it. Fucking death and blood and gore and everything that came with it. Helping people that don’t give a shit if I’m alive or dead at the end.”

“I gave a shit,” Ovi reminds him.

“You know how long I’d be doing the job? Almost sixteen years. That’s a fucking lifetime for guys like me.”

“Guys like us,” the younger man stresses.

“You’re not there yet. You might not even get there. You might not even get past what I have in store for you. You want to think it’s all a big game and that it’s something you ‘just want to try out’? Well you’re going to see just how fucking fun it is when I get a hold of you. So if you’re having any second thoughts, I’d back out now before it’s too late and I have you curled up in a ball of your own puke and piss.”

Ovi blinks at the harshness in his voice.

“You wonder why she’s upset? Why she’s pissed off with you? With the whole fucking world right now? Do you know how many promises I’ve made to her that I’ve broken? So many that she doesn’t even believe me when I make promises anymore. That’s fucking sad. It’s pathetic. And here I am, breaking another one.”

“You’re not exactly...”

“You know what? You don’t get to talk. You're just going to sit there and listen to what I have to say. You want to be a man and make these kinds of decisions? Then you sit there and let another man tell you the way things are. I’m not just random off the street that doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The job was my life. It’s who I was. And when I walked away, I thought I left it behind. And then you come along with this bullshit...”

“Tyler...I...”

“Just shut the fuck up and listen,” he growls. “I’m not fucking around here, Ovi. I’m not pulling any punches. It wasn’t just the job that screwed with my head. There was a lot of things that fucked me up. Things you don’t even know about. All the way back to when I was a kid. But the job? The job fucked me in more ways than you can even begin to imagine. You think it’s fun killing people? That I actually enjoyed it? I took pride in it?”

Ovi shakes his head.

“I did it for the money. That’s it. I didn’t do it to help people. I didn’t give a shit about myself, why would I give a shit about them? And then you came along, and Dhaka happened, and that was my one chance to make things right. For redemption. To prove I wasn’t a shit human being. And part of me was ready to die that day. More than ready. And another part of me wanted to stay alive because I thought maybe...just maybe...I’d met someone that could teach me how to give a shit again. That would actually give a shit about me.”

“She obviously did. And still does. Or she wouldn’t be here.”

“She stayed behind on that bridge. Knowing there was a chance that Asif would get a hold of her. Do you know what would have happened to her if he had? What he would have done to her? Way worse than he would have done to you. He would have killed you quickly. He would have waited days with her. Weeks. Until he was bored with her; tired of doing all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her.”

Ovi swallows heavily, tears welling in his eyes.

“And she still stayed. Knowing what would happen if she got caught there. Fucking Nik took off. She wasn’t even going to come back for us. Everything should have told Esme to leave me there and she didn’t. So don’t come here...to my house...and even think about disrespecting my wife.”

“I wasn’t going to. I...”

“You didn’t even give a shit about what she had to say last night. She’s trying to save your life and you didn’t even care. She doesn’t want you ending up like me, don’t you fucking get that? You think I want to be like this? Fucked in the head? Having to take medication every morning to just goddamn function like somewhat of a human being? You think I want my wife and my kids to see me like this? What the hell is wrong with you that you can’t see what the job does? It hasn’t just fucked me up, it’s fucked all of them up. My wife, my kids. Why can’t you see that?”

“I don’t expect you to get back into the job. Just to help me. And you said you would. With the training. You said...”

“You think it’s really going to stop there? That that’s going to be enough? I’m going to get dragged back into this shit. You know it, I know it. Esme knows it. And it’s fucking killing her inside. Because I told her that this time I was done for good. And now look. Look at the goddamn mess you’ve gotten me into.”

“I never meant to...”

“Never meant to what? Bring me back into it? Bullshit. It’s what you wanted right from the get-go. You never wanted to do this alone. You wanted me with you right from the start. Well now you got what you want. You’ve got me right back into this crap. Whether I want to be in it or not. You know I wouldn’t let you do it alone. You damn well knew from the start I’d never let that happen, didn��t you.”

Ovi reluctantly nods.

“Well I hope you’re prepared then. Because I’m not going to make this easy on you. You want me to drag me off to some shit hole and get me killed, I get to do things my way. And I swear to Christ, if my marriage falls apart because of this and I lose my kids....”

“You won’t. That won’t happen. She’d never leave. You know she wouldn’t.”

“I know she WOULD. Don’t tempt it. I break one more promise to her and it’s done. She’ll take off and I’ll never see my kids again. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making yours miserable because of it. Understand me?”

“I don’t understand why you’re both so worried. Why you’re both so upset. I don’t...”

“What if I don’t come back?” Tyler angrily interjects. “What if this is the one time no one is around to save me? What if it’s the one time a sniper puts a bullet in my head instead of my chest? Do you know what I leave behind? Five kids. Five little kids that deserve so much better than this. Does that even matter to you? Do they even matter to you?”

“Of course they do!” Ovi exclaims. “I love those kids! They’re my brothers and sisters! How could you even ask me that? How could you...?”

“You love them but you’re willing to take their dad away from them? It’s okay that I go in there to rescue your ass, but I get killed for it? I leave them behind; I leave Esme behind. Do you know what that would do to her? Me not coming back? Like what the fuck?” He angrily tosses the craft supplies into a storage container on the edge of the patio and slams the lid closed. “Do you not realize everything I stand to lose?”

“I do. I do realize that. You have a life. A wife and kids and...:”

“And you’re still going to do it. You’re still going to go ahead with this bullshit.”

Ovi sighs.

“We start the day after Millie’s birthday. I don’t want to hear anything more about it until then. You know you’re more than welcome to keep coming over here, just don’t talk about this again. Not in front of my wife. And especially not in front of my kids. Understand me?”

“I understand.”

“We’re finished here. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a long fucking day and I’m done with it. With everything. I’m going into Port Douglas tomorrow to take Millie to see my dad. You can come along if you don’t mention a word of this around her.”

“Okay. I’d like that. To see him again. And I’m sorry. I really am. For all the problems. For all the bullshit. I never meant to cause issues. Especially for you and Esme. I never meant...”

“You come between us and fuck things up, I will make your life hell,” Tyler vows, as he gathers up the dirty coffee mug and steps towards the entrance to the house. “I lose my family because of all this, it won’t end well for you.”

“Tyler, I...”

“We’re done with this,” he says, and then slams the door closed behind him.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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