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moon-spirit-yue · 1 year ago

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Once Upon a Time, In a Land Far Away...

(So remember when I said I wouldn’t make an OUAT au? I was a liar. However, I am ending this fic after the first season or perhaps season two because ya girl can’t be writing all that. TW SMALL FIGHT SCENE IN THE BEGINNING ILL MAKE THE TW OBVIOUS!

READ THE NEW NAMES BECAUSE YOU WILL BE VERY CONFUSED IF YOU SKIP THIS! Raya’s Storybrooke name is Rose, Namaari’s is Natasha, Virana’s is Vanessa, Benja’s is just Ben, Sisu’s is Suki, Boun’s is Brian, Noi’s is Naomi, and Tong’s is Thomas. Please enjoy!)

“What the hell happened? I thought you managed to get lost or something,” Namaari hissed the second Raya came back into the room.

“It’s so much worse than we were hoping. Snow went into labor before they could finish the portal. The baby is being sent to this other world by herself,” Raya told her in a frenzied manner.

“Oh my god,” Namaari whispered, absolutely horrified.

“I just, I need to sit down,” Raya stated warily as she all but collapsed on the couch near the door.

Namaari shot up from the bed and rushed to Raya’s side. Just like she always does. Raya can always count on her.

“What does this mean?” Namaari asked worriedly.

“It means that Emma’s going to need to find a way to break the curse all on her own,” Raya sighed as she buried her face in her hands.

Namaari wrapped her arms around Raya and pulled her close. Immediately, Raya returned the embrace and squeezed tightly.

The Heart woman never wants to let go of her. Namaari. Her wife. But now she doesn’t have a choice.

When the Evil Queen threatened Snow White and Prince Charming on their wedding day, everyone was on edge. The Evil Queen does many things, but make empty threats are not one of them.

Snow knew the only way to guarantee the safety of the kingdom and her unborn child was to consult with Rumplestiltskin. Then they discovered that Snow White and Prince David’s daughter would be some magical curse breaker for them all. The original goal was to put Snow in the tree trunk so that she could raise the little princess curse free due, to the fact that there’s only enough magic to send one person. They just couldn’t make the tree fast enough.

“I can’t believe this. I run from Druun for six years, and now it’s all ruined because some bitch who’s in an eternal battle with her step daughter wants to even the score,” Raya spat.

She had to be angry. If she wasn’t enveloped in rage, she’d breakdown in tears, which wasn’t very appealing at the moment.

“Look, we’ve been through a hell of a lot in our lifetime, and we will get through this too,” Namaari assured her.

“I don’t understand how you could possibly be so confident about that. We’re putting our hopes, our lives, in the tiny hands of a baby that hasn’t even been alive for a full day. That’s too much of a burden for anyone to bear,” Raya huffed. She speaks from personal experience, after all.

“I know it is, but Rumplestiltskin already prophesied this all from the beginning. Which means that as long as Emma can escape, we've all got a chance," Namaari assured her.

Raya sighed and took a glance at the window. She has no idea where this curse is going to take them. Nobody does. They're at an utter disadvantage. The most information Raya's gotten from it is that everyone's memory is going to be wiped.

“I’m sorry I’m being so negative about this. You’re going to be cursed too, I should at least be attempting to comfort you,” Raya sighed, feeling so utterly defeated. “I just have no idea how we can make it past this.”

“Hey, you’re the most hopeful woman I’ve ever met. I mean, you hoped for six years that a dragon could bring your father back, and you were right. You hoped for all of a Kumandra. I can hope for us both right now. That’s what marriage is. Helping each other when the other is struggling,” Namaari told her.

Toi, Raya is so in love. She didn’t know it was possible to feel so much adoration for one person until Namaari. The Heart princess simply gave her wife a kiss. One that Namaari immediately returned.

“I’m going to miss this. Something tells me that in this cursed land, we won’t be newly weds,” Raya sighed, pulling Namaari in for a hug.

“You might be right about our marital status, but I’ll still be in love with you. I always have been, and I always will be. There are some things not even magic can change,” the Fang princess said in a soft, comforting voice.

“Yeah? Well if someone as lame as you can manage to love me in a cursed land, I bet I can love you so much more. Because, you know, I’m a lot cooler than you are,” Raya mumbled, trying not to cry her eyes out.

“As if. I’ll love you so much in this cursed land, you’ll be embarrassed at how lacking you were when the curse gets lifted,” she heard Namaari huff out.

“You know what? If you can somehow manage to get Rumplestiltskin off my back in the cursed land, I just might agree,” Raya snorted.

“Please. That guy’s like three feet tall. I can totally get him to back off from you in the new world. If I have to keep Rumplestiltskin away, then you have to help me deal with my mother. I bet she’s going to be especially difficult in the cursed land,” Namaari scoffed.

“I think we have ourselves a deal, binturi,” Raya giggled.

At that moment, David rushed into the room and quickly closed the door behind her. He was holding Emma in one arm and his sword in the other.

"My god, what the hell's happening out there?" Raya blurted as she and Namaari both stood up from the couch.

"The queen's guards. They infiltrated the castle. They're...there's so much more than just me. I don't know how I'll get past them all," the prince rambled while trying to catch his breathe.

"In and out David, in and out. Look, we've got your back. Raya and I will have gladly go out there to offer some backup," Namaari assured him.

"I can't ask you to do that," David said, trying to shoot the idea down.

"Hey, your fate isn't the only one that depends on getting her to this other world before the curse does. Besides, it's been a while since I've had a good fight," Raya smirked, trying to not panic at whatever was beyond those two doors.

"Hey, we sparred four days ago," Namaari reminded her with a frown.

"I know what I said," Raya grinned, feeling her nerves ease little bit more. It's like just looking at her wife is good for her health.

"Okay, less flirting, more preparing for battle," David reminded them.

"That's fair," Raya conceded as she grabbed her sword.

Namaari did the same. They never did go anywhere without a sword. That probably says something about themselves.

"Alright. We're good," Namaari nodded.

"Pause. I want a kiss for good luck," Raya told her.

Though no one was willing to say it outloud, they all knew that it was very possible this could be the last time any of them see each other. That's probably why David had no objection when Namaari used her free hand to cradle Raya's face and give her a deep kiss. Raya decided she liked that kiss so much that there was no way it'd be their last.

"I love you," Raya smiled as her wife pulled away.

"I love you too," Namaari whispered fondly.

Then a loud crash resounded from the outside, causing the trio to face the door with a deathly grip on their swords. When they decided no one would be breaking in, Raya and Namaari stepped out in front of David to take on whatever battle awaited them.

There were six guards at the end of the hall. They didn't look like they had a clue where they were going. Raya's pretty damn sure she could take these guys, especially with her badass wife beside her.

"Go ahead David, we'll hold them off," Namaari told him.

"Dep la, I was going to say that! Can you read my mind?" Raya grinned.

"I just know you too well, my love," Namaari responded with a small smile of her own.

"Thank you, I'm eternally in debt to the both of you. And for god's sake, focus on the fight instead of flirting!" the prince exclaimed before rushing off to send Emma into the wardrobe.

"Tell Emma Auntie Raya and Auntie Namaari love her!" Raya yelled as David sprinted away.

(TW WARNING START)

Okay, the Queen's armed forces were now right in front of them. No biggie. The first guy that came up to her was a cinch to beat. A solid kick in the chest made him slam against the wall and knock the guy out cold. Poor bastard must have been new.

Namaari was dealing with her own trio of guards as the remaining two ganged up on the Heart woman. They were fast, but clumsy. One guard managed to nick Raya's eyebrow and nose bridge. While it wasn't going to do any lasting damage, it'd certainly leave a mark. The force of their hits meeting air kept them off balance enough to give Raya a chance to swipe back.

She checked the corner of her eye to make sure Namaar was doing well and of course, she's beating their asses. After a couple good stabs through skin, Namaari knocked the other three off thier feet.

Raya had managed to stab the last guy in the leg when his guard was down. Hah. These guys are really bad fighters. Then she heard Namaari groan.

"Hey, do you think that," Namaari began, before she lunged herself at Raya.

A Queen's guard jumped out of the shadows and came hurtling to Raya when her back was turned. Namaari was able to interfere, but the guard just moved the blade the side and sliced Namaari's arm clean off. Raya's wife collapsed to the floor, crying from pure agony.

With absolutely zero hesitation, Raya raised her sword and pummeled it straight through the guard's heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Then left nothing for Raya to focus on except for her wife. She quickly took off her waist band and firmly tied it around the edge of the spot where the arm was cut off to prevent further blood loss. She's honestly not sure how she did it with her tears blurring her vision.

Once the band was tight enough, Raya moved Namaari so that her head was resting on Raya's lap. The screaming had stopped, there was only a pained whimper was coming from her now.

(TW WARNING STOP)

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Namaari, you have to stay awake, do you understand me? If I have to live through this stupid curse, then so do you!" Raya sobbed.

This can't be happened. They've been married for what, a month? It didn't matter that there was a curse or everyone would be miserable, Raya wanted to be cursed and miserable with Namaari. For the rest of their lives. One month is not enough.

"You're...so bossy. Even now," Namaari mustered out.

Raya couldn't hold back the extra tears seeing Namaari in so much pain from such a simple sentence. She's trying so hard to stay awake.

"Thanks for the defense back there. That guy totally would have sliced right through my heart if you hadn't done anything," Raya whispered, tears still stubbornly streaming down her face.

"I know. I'd rather lose an arm than lose you," Namaari said.

"I wish you didn't have to lose one at all," Raya told her honestly.

"Will you still love me even if I only have one arm?" Namaari blurted.

God, how stupid is this woman?

"That may have been the most ridiculous shit you've ever said in your entire life, Namaari. Of course I'll love you without the arm. Besides, you've seen what dragon magic can do with those metal arms. Once this curse business is settled, you can get a magical metal arm and you're gonna look so badass," Raya choked out with a small smile on her lips.

"You think I'd look hot with a metal arm?" Namaari grinned.

Even though the reason why is so painfully stupid, Raya's just happy to see that smile.

"Duh. I think you'd look hot with anything. Do you think I'll look hot with the eyebrow and nose scar? The wounds are kind of deep," Raya sniffled.

"You're always hot. The scars will add to it. I wanna kiss them when they're healed," Namaari mumbled, seeming to drift off.

"Aye! Stay with me, One Armed Wonder!" Raya snapped.

"Did you just call me One Armed Wonder?" Namaari mumbled incredulously.

"Too soon?" Raya sheepishly asked.

"I want that engraved on my metal arm," Namaari decided with a giggle.

Raya laughed a bit too. It's so hard to laugh knowing that the love of her life is in so much pain and there's nothing she can do about it.

The ground began to shake. Raya looked out the window to see the black and green fog slowly take over the whole kingdom.

"It's coming," was all Raya managed to say.

"Kiss me," Namaari said.

And how can Raya say no to that?

Raya leaned down and pressed a soft but firm kiss on Namaari's lips. She's feels so safe in the kiss. Even when the world is ending. No one's ever made Raya feel the way Namaari does. No one else ever will.

Raya gently broke away and gasped as the shaking grew more intense. Raya leaned over Namaari in order to protect her body from any more potential injury.

"I love you," Raya yelled as the fog approached.

"Love...," Namaari trailed off.

She was way too weak. It was a miracle the Fang warrior lasted this long. But that's okay, Raya doesn't need her to say it out load to know she means it.

All she could do was hold her wife tightly as they were swept into a land where they were never married in the first place.

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

(27 years later)

Roseline Heart woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Literally. There’s a spot on the mattress that has the spring sticking out because of how old it is and it ended up cutting Rose’s cheek. Now there’s a thin trail of blood coming from her face. Fantastic.

Groggily, Rose helplessly grabbed around for her glasses and shuffled to the bathroom. She’s pretty sure this is where the bandaids are. After actually putting on the glasses, success was Rose’s as she managed to get her hands the hello kitty band aid box. After cleaning up the cut as best as she could, she put her bright pink band aid on and headed out to the kitchen.

“Morning Sunshine! How’s-” Suki began before noticing bright ass bandaid on Rose’s face. “Okay, seriously, you gotta replace that mattress. Someone’s gonna call the sheriff on me for domestic violence if you keep this up!”

“Someone’s dramatic. I just forgot to put a thick pillow over it like usual. No big deal,” Rose said with a dismissive flick of the wrist.

“It feels like you never remember the pillow. Besides, you've already got a couple scars on your face. No reason to add on another,” Suki huffs while handing her an apple.

“Aye, don’t sass the hand that’s gonna be dying your hair blue tonight,” Rose warned.

Suki simply stuck her tongue out at her and began rummaging through the cabinets to find some of her cereal.

Suddenly a loud, obnoxious knocking at their door caused both girls to groan.

“You get the door, I’ll get the checkbook,” Rose said in defeat.

“You got it, bestie,” Suki huffed while headed to the door.

Rose heard the door open as Suki made idle chit chat with their intrud- guest. Beloved landlord. She found the checkbook resting on her living room couch. Rose grabbed a pen, wrote out her check, and tore it off the booklet.

“Mr. Gold. What a joy it is to see your wrinkly face so early in the morning,” Rose deadpanned.

“You’ve always known how to charm a man, haven’t you?” Gold mocked.

“Considering the fact that I’m a lesbian, I really hope not,” Rose grumbled while handing him the check.

Mr. Gold examined it, front and back, before deciding it was sufficient.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. As per usual,” Mr. Gold spat. “I’ll leave you girls to your morning, then. Ms. Datu, I’ll be expecting your half of the rent on the first,” Mr Gold told her.

“And that is when you will receive, sir,” Suki said with an uncomfortable polite smile.

“Wonderful. I’ll be off then. Have an excellent day, Dearie,” Mr. Gold smirked.

With that, he walked right of their apartment without bothering to close the door. Rose scowled and slammed the door shut. God, she wanted to take that cane from his hand and bash his face in with it.

Will Rose ever understand what Gold’s problem is with her? No. No she will not. Rose just doesn’t get it! She’s an excellent tenant. She’s never been late for a payment. Not once. Hell, sometimes she gives Sisu extra cash in case she falls short with her rent money.

Yet somehow, Mr. Gold is never satisfied with her stellar reputation. In fact, he seems to be quite irritated whenever Rose manages to deliver the rent. Which is every time he asks for it. In simpler words, Mr. Gold is always pissed at Rose and there is nothing she can do about it. Rose wins none and loses all.

It used to make woman want to rip her hair out from pure frustration. Here she is, always giving rent when she needs to and she smells like flowers all the time! What more could a landlord want?!

It wouldn’t be such an issue if he treated everyone else like this. But he doesn’t. Of course, just like any other landlord, he expects his tenants to pay rent on time and he tends to be a no nonsense kind of guy. But Mr. Gold’s willing to negotiate with others. He’s fine with coming to a compromise of some sort. But if Rose were to have issues?

She’d be on the streets faster than you can say ‘what a jackass’.

It’s not like there’s anything Rose can do about it, either. The only person that could match up to Mr. Gold in the realm of power in this town is Regina Mills, the mayor. Unfortunately, Mr. Gold has some sort of in with Mayor Mills, so Rose is totally screwed.

But, well, Rose has accepted her status as Gold Enemy Number One. Nothing she can do about it now.

“God, I hate that guy. Why the hell can’t he just lay off your back?” Suki scowled.

“Question of the century, truly. Think you can pick up some fruit while after work? Seems like we’re running low,” Rose asked her roommate.

“Got it. You better get dressed girl, aren’t you opening the store today?” Suki asked.

“Yeah, I need to move it,” Rose sighed while rushing into her room to get ready.

Rose hastily put on a green long sleeve shirt and blue jeans that were way too big for her, held up by a dark brown belt. She flew in and out of the bathroom in record time. Once she grabbed her satchel like bag, she was ready for work.

“Have fun, don’t hurt yourself!” Suki yelled as Rose put on her beat up sneakers.

“If anyone’s gonna hurt themselves today, it’s you. See you later!” Rose yelled as she exited the apartment.

Speed walking out of the building, Rose was so lost in her own world that she almost didn’t comprehend the fact that she nearly torpedoed into Mary Margaret.

“Crap, sorry! I had a late start today,” Rose apologetically stated.

“Oh it’s no problem, Rose. You know, I was actually hoping I would run into you today. I’ll be super quick, I promise,” Mary Margaret said.

“Yeah, for sure. What’s up?” Rose asked.

“Would you be able to tutor a kid in my class? His name is Henry, same age as Naomi, and he’s a really great kid. He’s just going through a bit of a hard time. He’s also a very quick study, the only reason why his grades have been slipping is because he lacks focus. His mother insisted on him getting a tutor and she has every intention of paying you. I only ask because of how great you are with Naomi and how much her grades improved after your tutoring,” Mary Margaret pleaded.

Huh. Rose really can't remember much of Namoi's progress. Well, Mary Margaret is her friend and a little extra cash couldn’t hurt. Besides, if she can help a kid out what’s the harm?

“That can work. I’m free after 4:30 on Mondays and Wednesdays, does that work out?” Rose asked.

“Oh that’ll be perfect! I can not thank you enough! Think it can start today?” Mary Margaret asked with hopeful eyes.

Rose frowned and checked her phone to come to the discovery that today is, in fact, Wednesday. Shit, all the days blend together.

“I can do that, I just need to text Suki that I’ll be home late,” Rose responded.

“You are seriously saving my life, thank you. Okay, meet me at Granny’s Diner at about 4:45 so that you two can get started,” Mary Margaret informed her.

“Granny’s at 4:45, on it. Alright, I gotta scatter before Moe has my head. See you later, Mary!” Rose yelled as she began a light jog to her car.

“Bye Rose! Thanks again!” Mary Margaret yelled.

Rose smiled and waved as she continued her jogging pace. The moment she got into her car, the pedal was to metal. Though she may have broke a couple speeding laws, Rose made it to work a whole two minutes early.

Once she hopped out of her car that should have been thrown the in the dump years ago, Rose opened the door to her beloved place of work.

Game of Thorns is her happy place. Surrounded by the soothing aromas of tulips and lilies, arranging the flowers to compliment each, and just staring at all the plants gives Rose a sense of peace. Besides, since the owner Moe French hates Mr. Gold, the old snake can’t set foot in this place. Here, Rose has solace.

Mostly.

There is, of course, the fact that Natasha Fang is one of the shop’s biggest customers.

The name Natasha is very fitting. Similarly to a gnat, Natasha does everything in her power to be as big of a nuisance to Rose as possible. The name quite literally speaks for itself.

Unfortunately, that would be very bad for business. The shop could just get rid of every single customer except for Natasha and they would still be kept afloat. She always orders in bulk and tips well, which is the only good thing Rose can say about her.

Natasha is just so.....awful! Rose will never forgive how that woman betrayed her. Natasha and her stupid undercut can take a long walk off a short pier.

“Rose, how are you on this fine morning?” Moe French asked as he walked through the door. That’s one way to snap Rose out of her thoughts.

“Morning Moe. I’m okay. I got my daily dose of Gold today, which was super fun for me,” Rose huffed as she set up the register.

“Ugh, that old bastard has no business harassing you! So what if he’s your landlord? He still has a job to treat his tenants with basic respect!” Moe rambled as he began to reorganize the flowers.

“You are preaching to the choir, my friend,” Rose sighed.

The two worked quietly together in order to set up the space for opening. Only a couple of customers came in the shop before Rose saw an unnecessarily flashy sports car parked right in front of the shop.

“The gnat is flying in!” Moe hissed when he also noticed this specific car.

Rose quickly retreated to the back room. It’s their fun little code word for saying that Natasha, the worst person ever, was entering the shop. Moe and the rest of Rose’s coworkers all understood the complicated dynamic between the two girls. Said dynamic being Natasha tries aggravating Rose at every possible opportunity while Rose does everything in her power to avoid her.

Rose is very grateful that her colleagues had her back and were willing to talk to Natasha instead. Does Rose realize that it's petty and childish to run from her problem? Yeah. But it works and gives Rose a better peace of mind.

"Mr. French, good to see you today," Rose heard Natasha say as she walked into the shop.

"Ms. Fang! And you as well. What can I do for you?" her boss asked.

"I'll need the usual, please. Carnations instead of peonies this time, though. One of our clients is obsessed with peonies so I'm trying to play to my audience. If you guys can help deliver them this Friday, that would be great," Natasha informed him. (Probably with her stupid fake smile.)

"Of course we can! Come on, I'll ring you up!" Moe excitedly stated as the footsteps got closer.

Ugh, Rose wishes Moe could be as anti Natasha as he was anti Gold. The girl does drop a lot of cash for this store at his core, Moe French is a business man. Rose knew this business would not be half as good without Natasha's participation. Doesn't mean she had to like it, though.

"Thank you for your business!" Moe said. Rose could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"Of course, Mr. French. I'll see you on Friday, Heart," Natasha said with way too much glee.

Though no one could see it, Rose scowled. She worked full time. When the shop is open, Rose is working. Of course Natasha knows that.

The young florist waited until she heard the door close before reentering the main part of the shop.

"I wanna punch her in her stupid face," Rose blatantly stated when she excited the room.

"All she'd need to is grab you with her prosthetic arm and it'd be over for you," Moe reminded her.

"Well I would have made the experience very stressful for her," Rose grumbled as she got back to work.

"I'm sure you would have, Rose," Moe nodded.

Rose internally groaned and mentally prepared herself for this Friday. Even it's only two days away, she needs all the help she can get. Rose is positive she doesn't work at the only flower shop in the world, so why can't Natasha go to literally any other?

It doesn't even matter. Rose is just going to do what she always does. Talk to Thomas exclusively, hide behind the flowers whenever Natasha's in eyesight, and teleport out there before any interaction can occur. It's in everyone's best interest.

The day droned on as usual. Moe decided to close up shop today, so Rose was able to get to Granny's Diner a tad earlier than expected. She saw Mary Margaret already at the diner, which was very convenient.

Rose walked up to the table where she was sitting and saw the kid also sitting with Mary Margaret. Huh, so the whole gang is here.

She was about to introduce herself when she caught sight of the woman sitting next to Henry. Can anyone explain why the ever loving fuck the mayor is sitting next to this little boy?

Rose gave the teacher a look and jutted her head to the side which is the nonverbal cue of 'get the hell over here right now'.

Mary Margaret, being used to Rose, knew what she was getting at walked over to greet her.

“Mary,” Rose said in an eerily calm tone.

“Yes, Rose?” Mary Margaret asked in a meek voice.

“Please do not tell me that Henry’s last name is Mills,” Rose hissed.

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t honest before, but he really needs the help and I was worried you’d judge him before meeting him!” the teacher exclaimed.

“I’m not judging him, I’m judging whether or not I’ll be able to even live in Storybrooke!” Rose snapped. “I can not afford to make this kid upset, Mary. I’ve already got Gold on my back for, I don’t know, breathing! If I manage to get on Mayor Mills’ bad side, I will quite literally have no choice but to leave town!”

“Rose, please, he’s not that kind of kid. Besides, one of the things he’s been struggling with is the relationship with his mother. Just give it a shot. One day trial. If you really think you can’t do it, then fine. But please, just try,” Mary Margaret begged.

Rose sighed at the kid that seemed absolutely miserable sitting next to his own mother. Just looking at him, Rose does feel bad for the little guy. And it’s not like Rose has anything better to do on a Wednesday afternoon...

“Fine. One day,” Rose agreed.

“You are a god send! Okay, get ready to meet the family!” Mary Margaret whispered as she tugged on Rose’s arm. “Mayor Mills! Henry! Here’s this fantastic tutor I was telling you guys about.”

Madame Mayor looked Rose up and down, examining her like she’s trying to decide whether she’s worthy of being in her and her son’s presence.

“Regina Mills. This is my son, Henry. Thank you for taking time out of your day to help him,” the mayor said in a drawled sort of voice. Then, Mayor Mills stuck her hand out to shake.

“Roseline Heart. Everyone calls me Rose. It’s a pleasure to make both of your acquaintances,” Rose said with a polite smile.

Rose then stuck her own arm out to shake. When she made contact with the mayor’s hand, Rose felt a vice like grip in the handshake. But she would not be the one to back down. As previously stated, she really can’t afford to.

“Firm handshake. Wonderful,” the mayor said as she let go with smile.

Rose isn’t sure exactly what kind of smile the mayor’s flashing, but she knows for a fact it’s not a genuine one.

“Well, with that I will be off. The job of Mayor never stops. Behave Henry. I love you. And for heaven’s sake, actually pay attention to what she says please,” the Mayor told her son.

After planting a quick kiss on her son’s forehead, the mayor was off. Probably to make an innocent man cry.

Rose stared at Henry. Henry stared right back.

“So. You wanna play go fish and every time you lose, we have to actually focus on your school work?”

At the prospect of a game, the boy’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Uh, yeah!” he grinned as Rose brought out a deck of cards to shuffle.

It may seem stupid, but it works. Rose challenges Naomi to a battle of go fish all the time when she needs to get work done. The ability to make homework fun tends to make kids more inclined to comply.

Rose decided that she likes Henry after his mother picked him up. Mary Maragaret’s probably right. Just a good kid with a rough relationship with his mom, likely due to her job.

There’s just one more stop to Rose’s journey before heading home.

Rose took slow steps to Storybrooke’s general hospital where she briefly passed by Dr. Whale. After a quick greeting to the physician, she entered the hallway where the patients reside.

Calmly, Rose sat at the chair right at her father’s bedside. Without saying a word, Rose held his hand stared at his expressionless face.

God, what she wouldn’t give for just one expression to overcome her father’s face. Rose’s father has been comatose for who even knows how long. Dr. Whale insists there’s hope, but that may just be his way of sustaining his paycheck.

She wants her father back. More than anything, Rose wants her father to open his eyes.

But just like every single day before, Ben Heart does not open his eyes. He lays on the bed, still as a statue as he always does. Nothing has changed.

Rose mustered up the courage to tell her father about her day because maybe, just maybe, he’s listening. Once there was nothing more to say, she got up to drive back home.

As she left her father’s room, she looked to the side and saw yet another face that has yet to move. John Doe, he’s been in a comatose state for about as long as her father as, and no one’s ever claimed him. Talk about a bad break.

Rose figured it’d be best to leave before she gets too wrapped up in all the depressing thoughts. She managed to get home in one piece where Suki is waiting for her.

“Hey bestie! How’s your day?” Suki asked.

“The Henry kid is nice. I’ll continue tutoring him. Other than that, you know how my day went. Same as every other day.”

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

(one year later)

Rose was scrolling through instagram on her phone, waiting for Henry to show up at Granny’s like usual. The kid was running late, which really isn’t like him. Rose contemplated calling him before the young boy burst through the doors.

“Hey Rose!” Henry exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Rose had to say, she’s surprised. She’s never seen Henry so....happy? Vibrant? Not utterly depressed?

“Hi Henry! What’s got you looking so positively gleeful after a long day of school?” Rose smiled.

“I’m not sure you can handle it,” Henry shrugged.

“Uh, I absolutely can,” Rose interjected.

“Whatever you say. Just know I won’t be offended when you won’t believe a word I say,” Henry sighed.

With that, the little nine year old boy plopped a thick leather book on the table. It was definitely old and had beautiful golden lettering with the words ‘once upon a time’ written on it.

“Oooo, fairytales? I loved this stuff as a kid. What about this is unbelievable?” Rose asked.

“I know this going to be a lot to digest and like I said, you won’t have to believe me. Have you ever wondered why the clock never moves? Why you can’t seem to remember just about anything from their past? Why no one ever leaves this town?” Henry inquired mysteriously.

“Uh, one is that your mother never hires anyone to fix the clock, two is just an age issue, and three is because we’re all too lazy or like this town,” Rose explained.

“All of your answers are incorrect! It’s actually because this whole town is cursed!” the young boy whispered.

Rose blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“Okay, I realize I’m not exactly in the height of my life right now, but I wouldn’t say I’m cursed,” Rose laughed.

“It’s not just you, it’s everyone in this town! They’re all characters in this book. You all just can’t remember anything and time doesn’t move,” Henry explained.

Now Rose wasn’t entirely sure to handle this. What Henry was saying is clearly some fantasy to cope with whatever issues he’s dealing with at home.

“Look, Henry,” Rose began.

“Just wait. Let me ask you something. Do you remember why exactly you hate Natasha? Do you remember who gave you that dragon pendant? Or the ring on your right hand? Can you remember how you met Suki? Or Ms. Blanchard?” Henry asked, quickly following one question after another.

“Well, Natasha betrayed me. When were kids. Yeah we were young, but she clearly lacks remorse,” Rose said.

Though she didn’t want to admit it, Rose only addressed the first question because it was the only question where she was certain of her answer.

“But what actually happened? What did Natasha do to betray you?” Henry pressed.

Now Rose had to admit, the details are.....fuzzy. Rose can say beyond the shadow of a doubt that Natasha is a traitorous snake that should be avoided at all costs.

But honestly? She doesn’t remember exactly what occurred during this awful betrayal. The person who gave her the ring and pendant were important to Rose. She’s kind of sure of that. Rose is also pretty sure whoever gifted her those items were from the same person. However, Rose isn't entirely sure who this person is. She thinks they were gifts from a relative.

The gold dragon pendant with a bright blue gem in the middle went matched well with gold band of the ring that also has a bright blue circular gem in the center. Little diamonds run along the band making it the most beautiful and valuable thing Rose owns.

“I have a terrible memory, Henry. Anyone that knows me can attest to that. So what if I can’t remember the exact bits of what Natasha did? Or who gave me jewelry? Or how I met my friends? Having the memory of a goldfish don’t mean there’s a curse,” Rose tried to remind him.

“I get why you don’t believe me. After all, you got wronged by a lot of people which made you very cautious and untrusting,” Henry sighed, looking incredibly disappointed.

Rose frowned at seeing the boy so dejected. She tried to think of a way to cheer him up without lying and saying she believed him.

“If you’re so intent on the idea everyone in this town is a story book character, who am I?” Rose asked just to humor him.

At this, Henry’s eyes lightened up. He opened the book and flipped to a page in big, fancy letters that read out to be ‘Raya and the Last Dragon’.

“This is your story. You’re Raya, untrusting heroine that has to learn to have faith in order to get her happy ending. In the book, after Namaari betrays you, you have to find the almighty dragon Sisu in order to return everyone from stone. Then Namaari proves herself by risking her life to save you and everyone else in Kumandra. After that, you two spent a lot of time together reuniting the five lands and eventually you two fall in love and get married! You were only married for a few weeks before the curse hit,” Henry informed her.

“Huh. Well, at least my story book life has a happily ever after before this supposed curse,” Rose huffed. “Wait, so who do you think Suki is? And Mary Margaret? Oh, you have to tell me who you think your mom is!”

“Suki is Sisu, the dragon that helped you save the world. Mary Margaret’s Snow White and my mom, well...,” Henry sighed, clearly hesitant to speak. “She’s the Evil Queen.”

Well this theory is most certainly going to drive an even bigger wedge between Henry and his mom than before. Though Rose has to admit, she finds the concept of Suki being a dragon very amusing.

“Wow. That...is a lot of information you dropped on me,” was all Rose could say after that.

“Yeah, I know,” Henry nodded.

“Alright, I’m still not quite convinced that everyone in this town is a cursed fairytale character and you’re fine with that. So I just have one last question for you,” Rose told him.

“Lay it on me,” Henry nodded.

“Who’s my wife? You know, the girl that’s really Namaari but got cursed and is now not my wife. According to you, because I am doubtful,” Rose grinned.

“You’re not gonna like my answer,” Henry admitted sheepishly.

“Oh no. Who is it?” Rose asked, weirdly afraid of who he was going to say.

“It’s Natasha Fang. She’s your wife before the curse,” Henry informed her.

“I want a new one,” Rose demanded.

“What,” Henry deadpanned.

“I said I want a new one. Natasha Fang can’t to be my wife, she sucks! So pick a different one,” Rose told him.

“I can’t just pick a different one, it’s who you married! You chose Natasha! She chose you! It already happened, there’s no take backsies!” Henry glared.

“Um, excuse you, if you get to tell me my entire life is one big curse, then I get to have a better wife! What about that girl who works at the electric company? She’s cute and she always gives me a discount whenever she needs to fix up my apartment! Make her my wife instead,” Rose whined childishly.

“That’s not- you know what? There’s no point in arguing with you. If there’s any hope of saving you and everyone else in this town, I need cold hard proof,” Henry sighed.

“.............................are you sure cute electrician girl can’t be my wife?”

“Yes, Rose. I am sure. Cute electrician girl is not and will never be your wife. Deal with it.”

“............................rude.”

#raya and the last dragon #rayaari #namaari #raya x namaari #namaari x raya #ratld #raya and namaari #ratld namaari #raya disney #ratld raya #ouat #once upon a time

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druidgroves · 2 years ago

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Chapter 09: I Get Along Very Well Without You

Fandom: Fallout 4 Words: 9,298 Characters: Georgia Tate (Canon Divergent Sole Survivor), RJ MacCready, Preston Garvey, Ronnie Shaw, Original Characters Notes: long time no blp ! pls enjoy <3 read on ao3 ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8

The rest of the way to the Castle was…awkward, to say the least. Mac would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit pissed at the Boss. There had been no words between them since the abrupt end of the game, and he had opted to walk a few paces behind her and Dogmeat afterwards. He watched the hard line of the Boss’ shoulders as she walked ahead of him, bunched up around her neck while her hands kept a tight grip on her pack. She hadn’t even spared him a glance in the last half hour. At one point, though, Mac could have sworn Dogmeat had the gall to look upset with him, big brown puppy-dog eyes boring into him with his ears pinned back.

Mac sighed. Pity.

That was certainly a new reaction, one Mac hadn’t gotten before, and he didn’t know how to feel about it just yet. All he knew was that it made his chest tight and his teeth grit together. Why did she seem to care so much? It didn’t make sense to him in his frustration, and because all roads of recent thought lead back to their contract, he was worried about that again, too. Especially since they were headed to the Minutemen base of operations, where she would be well within her rights to drop his ass for one of her little militiamen.

His fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the stock of the rifle in his hands as he scanned the road ahead of them. He should’ve stuck to keeping their businesses to themselves, at least give him the rest of the month working with her instead of getting cut off after three weeks. He went through the totals of all the caps and scrap he had on him, then subtracted the allotments for food, ammo, a mattress back in Goodneighbor, and money to send home for Duncan. Mac could go on for another month or so before he’d need to find another contract and that alone made his anxiety spike. His goal of putting together a team to fight through Medtek was once again falling out of his reach.

By the time the Castle came into view, Mac had already dejectedly resigned himself to the idea that he’d be back in the VIP room of the Third Rail by the end of the week.

The old fort stood tall against the sea, its Minutemen walking along crumbling bastions, eyes scanning the roads below as they patrolled. Another group looked to be rebuilding a destroyed section of wall near the water. Mac had heard something along the Goodneighbor rumor mill about a mirelurk queen being the cause of the destruction, and given how the smell of mutated crustacean seemed to get stronger the closer they got, he had no trouble believing it. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose as a strong wind blew in from the sea, mixing the smell with the briny scent of the ocean.

Once the patrols caught sight of the two of them and Dogmeat coming up the road, Mac saw them begin to call out to one another. A large gate made of scrap covering the West entrance was already opening before they had fully approached, and a man with a laser rifle strapped to his back came walking out with long, purposeful strides. He had on a tan coat and one of those Minutemen hats Mac had always thought were funny-looking (maybe he could swipe one before being kicked to the curb).

As soon as the Boss caught sight of him, though, it was like a switch flipped. Her head perked up and the tightness in her shoulders disappeared as she shouted “Preston!” with genuine excitement. She ran off without so much as a warning, leaving Mac and Dogmeat in the dust. Mac looked down at the hound with a raised eyebrow, who only looked back at him with his head cocked to the side as he made a low sound, and the two resigned themselves to trail after her.

Mac watched as the Boss enveloped the Minuteman in a hug that almost sent the pair stumbling, only pulling back to fix the hat he’d almost lost. Preston patted her on the arm as she took her hands away, the two of them already wrapped up in tense conversation by the time Mac caught up to them.

“—she’s a little intense, so just prepare yourself,” Preston said as Mac stopped a few steps behind. The man acknowledged him with a tip of his hat as he turned to face him. “I take it you’re one of the General’s new friends?”

“I get paid to watch her back, if that’s what you mean,” Mac replied, crossing his arms. For now echoed at the back of his mind.

The Boss’ head snapped to him as soon as the words left his mouth, and for a moment he could’ve sworn something like hurt flickered over her features before she smoothed out her expression like it had never changed. She returned her attention back to Preston, and to his credit, if he noticed the tense air between her and Mac, he was polite enough not to say anything.

“...Either way, welcome to the Castle. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen,” he said, then put out a gloved hand for Mac to shake.

He looked down at the Minuteman’s outstretched hand, and when he didn’t make to reciprocate the gesture, the Boss cleared her throat.

“Thanks for the welcome party, Preston, but it sounds like we should go find Ronnie before she chews our heads off, huh?” she said, drawing their attention back to her. Preston nodded, and she turned to address Mac directly for the first time since their conversation. “I’m gonna be busy for a bit now that we’re here. If you need anythin’, ask around, let ‘em know that you’re a fr—that you’re with me. Keep an eye on Dogmeat if you can be bothered. See you around, MacCready.”

Any and all familiarity that she’d shown him was gone as his name left her mouth, and as MacCready stood there processing that fact, the Boss hooked her arm through Preston’s and the two began to walk through the open gate. As if he’d been given an explicit command, Dogmeat stayed by his side and didn’t follow after her.

“You’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” MacCready huffed and rolled his eyes, looking down at Dogmeat. “I’m the one who grew up in a cave full of kids and she’s the one who wants to act like a child. Unbelievable.”

Dogmeat barked a noise at him in response, a clear whatever you say, dude in his eyes.

Once the Boss and Preston had disappeared from his sight long enough that he (hopefully) wouldn’t bump into them anytime soon, he made his way onto the Castle grounds with Dogmeat in tow, trying to ignore the pervading smell of mirelurk. He pulled his hat down further over his eyes and decided he didn’t want to make anymore waves here before he could eventually slip back to Goodneighbor. Despite his best efforts though, fate, the world, or whatever higher being that seemed to have it out for MacCready that day, had other plans.

Someone collided into him the second he entered the courtyard, sending him stumbling and his hat flying off his head. MacCready would have ended up falling face first into a pile of building materials had he not been grabbed by the back of his duster like a stray cat.

“Aw shit, sorry there, friend. My bad,” came a voice from behind as MacCready regained his sense of balance.

As he righted himself, he saw a man in regular Minuteman duds, hat and all, grinning at him from under a thick ginger mustache. He had at least a head and a half on MacCready height-wise, and long, equally as ginger hair tied back in a knot. Taking up the sides of his face, though, were the most ridiculous looking sideburns MacCready had ever seen.

“Didn’t see you there. Clumsy me,” the man said, reaching down to grab MacCready’s hat without ever breaking eye contact.

What the hell is this guy’s deal? He couldn’t help but think.

“Yeah, well.” Don’t make waves. “Uh, you kept me from eating sh–crap in a pile of bricks, so. Thanks, I guess. Can I have my hat back?”

He tried to keep the attitude out of his voice and only barely succeeded, but the man just let it roll off him as he handed his hat back. MacCready ran a hand through his brown hair before putting it back on—he’d need a cut soon, and a wash judging by the grease—and crossed his arms. The man continued to grin down at him.

“Call me Curtis,” he said, less like an introduction and more like an implicit order. “You a new recruit?”

MacCready bit back the urge to scoff, “I’m with your General. I’m her merc.”

“Her very own merc? Fancy that,” Curtis said, putting a weird amount of emphasis on his words and rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots. “You got a name?”

“MacCready. Is there something you need or what?” he asked finally. There was something seriously off with this guy, the grin on his face only growing larger.

“A pleasure, MacCready. Thought you might’ve looked a little lost for a second, pal. I can show you around if you’d like, since the General seems to be otherwise occupied,” he offered, and nodded to another part of the courtyard.

MacCready spotted the Boss and Preston in front of a large metal door, talking to an older woman that was loud enough he could hear her from where he stood. The old biddy looked to be breathing down the Boss’ neck about something, but as always, she seemed to be handling it with her usual charm. The very charm that had got him to follow her around the Commonwealth and do all sorts of shit he’d never thought himself selfless enough to do. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned back to look at Curtis.

“I’ll take that forlorn look as a yes,” Curtis said, his grin turning more shit-eating. “Follow me.”

He turned on his heel to walk across the courtyard, and MacCready begrudgingly followed, hiking up his pack and mimicking the follow whistle he’d heard the Boss use on Dogmeat. The hound only looked at him, seemingly unimpressed, and followed after on his own accord.

“That’s the General’s dog, right? Saw that fucker tear apart a mirelurk nest like a mutant hound hopped up on Jet,” Curtis mused, reaching down to pet Dogmeat behind the ears. Dogmeat responded by wagging his tail and leaning into his hand before going to walk beside him.

Great, MacCready thought, even the dog wants nothing to do with me now.

They weaved through several people all looking like they had somewhere to be, holding tools, building materials, or weapons. One part of the courtyard seemed to be turning into a dedicated garden with a handful of people on their knees in the dirt. Across from that sat a workshop and several workstations, an awning covering the few Minutemen in the midst of all manner of arms modification and inspection. And in the middle of it all, a shack with a generator beside it and a towering radio transmitter above it, its speakers playing the classical music of Radio Freedom. The old fort had seen better days for sure, but life was being breathed back into the Castle once again.

“Kitchen is over there, and this’a way is the barracks. Plenty of free beds, and no one should mess with your shit if you don’t give them a reason to,” Curtis said as they walked through a crumbling archway. MacCready gave him a flat look when the man turned to face him. “Alright, tough crowd. Your stuff will be fine, lotsa ‘see something, say something’ types around here, trust me.”

Walking into the barracks proper, MacCready chose a cot in the furthest corner of the room that didn’t have someone else’s shit on it. He unpacked his spare change of clothes to put on top and claim it as his—something he could stand to lose if Curtis’ words didn’t ring true.

The man arched an eyebrow at him when MacCready came back with his pack still on, but continued to lead him through the hallways, talking all the while.

“So, how’d you come to be in the employ of our luver-ly General Tate?” he asked, putting on a twang. MacCready couldn’t tell if he was making fun of the Boss’ accent or if he was just…like that.

“You know her well?” he asked, wondering how much of herself she shared with other people that weren’t him.

“As much as anyone can—this is the General’s quarters, by the way—” Did he just wink at him? “But I helped take back the Castle when word started spreading around that the Minutemen were making a comeback. Nothing like slaughtering mirelurks to bond with your new superior officer, y’know? Anyways, she’s nice enough, good head on her shoulders, but I’m sure you knew that. But I want to know how you know her.”

I don’t even know if I actually do, he thought, but left it alone.

“I’m a gun for hire. She came to me,” he replied, keeping it vague. He didn’t trust this guy as far as he could throw him.

Curtis gave him a quick once over, and didn’t bother hiding the look that came with it, “Sure she found a justifiable reason for that. Anywho, here’s the common area where we sit back and shoot the shit when we’re off duty.”

He gestured dramatically to the mismatched chairs, stools, and couches tucked into a corner, a set of stairs leading up to the bastion above. A few Minutemen on break waved and nodded to Curtis as he and MacCready walked through, and the man replied with a pair of finger guns, sound effects and all. They laughed, MacCready didn’t, and they continued on with the tour.

“Just through there are our state of the art, entirely mirelurk-free bathrooms and showers,” Curtis continued, pointing towards an open door with several rickety stalls sitting just beyond it. “If you happen to see one, though, let someone know. Don’t want ‘em to get in the habit of pinching off people’s toesies.”

“...Sure,” MacCready responded, thinking of the Boss and her melodramatic yearning for a real shower that she’d been yammering about since that walk to County Crossing.

She came off as kind of a cleanfreak sometimes, but it had been a little amusing listening to her complain. They’d made do with rags and slivers of soap on the road (and a dose of Rad-X before even touching water), but after three weeks without a proper scrub down, he could come to see her side of things—at least as far as showers went.

When he didn’t say anything else, lost in his own thoughts, Curtis stopped walking and turned to face him expectantly. He lazily leaned his shoulder against a nearby wall, crossing his arms and leveling MacCready with a raised eyebrow as he scratched the stubble at his jaw. Dogmeat peered up at him from Curtis’ feet.

“Welp, MacCready,” he said, punching each syllable of his name, “that’s the end of the tour, and not just because you’re being a little sour-puss.”

“I didn’t say anything,” MacCready said flatly.

“Yeah, that’s the issue, buddy. Anyways, I don’t have anything left to show ya and I’ve gotta get back to serving under our brilliant blue banner, but I’ll talk to you later,” Curtis said, almost like a threat.

He put a heavy hand on MacCready’s shoulder and squeezed it, just a bit too hard. He’d definitely be seeing Curtis later, whether he liked it or not.

With that same unsettling grin, he tipped his hat at MacCready and walked past him. Dogmeat moved to follow, but he stepped in front of the hound to stop him, earning a whine. When the Minuteman was out of sight, he groaned and ran a hand down his face, leaning back against the wall.

“I’m never gonna catch a break, am I?” he asked with a glimpse at Dogmeat. “Actually, don’t answer that. Let’s grab something to eat.”

They wandered back to the direction of the kitchens, where MacCready found that grabbing a bite was easier than he thought it would be. He’d been fully prepared to make off with what he could, but stopped himself when he realized he’d technically be stealing from the Boss, given that this was her whole operation. There was a part of him that didn’t care, but it was overtaken when one of the cooks pointed him out as being a “friend of the General.” How fast did word travel here? He didn’t take the Minutemen for a bunch of gossips, but as he was handed leftovers from breakfast, the thought was cleared from his mind.

He found a secluded corner where no one would bother him and began to chow down, half a mirelurk egg omelette and a side of fried tatos for him and a few squirrel bits for Dogmeat. MacCready didn’t usually like mirelurk-anything (too slimy), but given that it was free food and he was starving, he wasn’t in any mood to pass up the opportunity to eat. As he did, he couldn’t help but point out to himself that even when she wasn’t around him, the Boss was still around by name, helping him out.

The way she’d turned furious earlier that morning had bugged him more than he would willingly admit outloud, and for the life of him, MacCready could not figure out why. His past had never elicited that much anger from someone. The strangest thing was that it didn’t seem to be directed at him, but about him, which confused him even more. His interest in her past was due entirely to how fucking cagey she insisted on being about it, so why did she get so up in arms about his own?

The Boss had been a welcome change from his usual contract holders, if a little unconventional. Doing all of the morally righteous, do-gooder Minuteman stuff was still a bit of a curveball to him, but it netted decent pay and the places they got to pick over were always chock full of goodies that currently still sat stuffed into his pack. But besides all the loot, walking the length of the Commonwealth with the Boss just felt…different from his other contracts, least of all the Gunners.

The Gunners ran their shit tight and MacCready was surprised he lasted as long as he did, what with his natural aversion to people telling him what to do on top of his mouthiness. They dictated when he woke up in the morning, when he ate his food, what people he worked with, and when he went to bed. His only one-up on them had been that they never got their tattoo guns anywhere near his face thanks to his quick thinking.

The guys in his squad liked to shoot the shit, but MacCready had never quite fit in amongst them. Some of them presented themselves as born killers, only in it for a paycheck. He could’ve described himself the same way, but it always felt like some of them took pleasure in it, when for him it was a way to survive. A means to an end. He took pride in his skills, even if their practice meant bloodshed, but he took no real joy in being a hired killer. To that end, he found no camaraderie with a bunch of sadists.

But things were different with the Boss. She didn’t relish in violence. In fact, she seemed to abhor it where it was unavoidable, but she wasn’t as soft as he first had her pegged. She could stand her ground and that much had been proven to him already. It also didn’t help his case that she was fun to be around. She made him laugh more than he had in a while, and had been a gleaming shimmer of hope when she walked into the Third Rail and hired him.

For her to have ditched him as soon as they got here…he supposed that hurt, just a little, but what else was he to expect after their argument? He’d been left behind with her dog and a “see you around” that he wasn’t so sure would come to pass (not even a “see you later” for crying out loud). Plus, he had no idea what the hell to do here, surrounded by her people in her fort. He’d been letting her take point since she hired him and without her near, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. It was like he’d forgotten what it was like to be alone, a realization that made him frown. MacCready chose not to follow the rest of that line of thought, finishing the plate of food before him in silence.

When he stood up to return his plate and fork to the kitchen, however, a muffled explosion came from somewhere below the Castle, the faint vibrations traveling to meet the soles of his boots. Dogmeat shot up with a bark, running off before MacCready could even register what had happened. He tore off after him once his brain caught up. He didn’t want to be responsible for losing the Boss’ dog and piss her off even more.

“Dogmeat, get back here!” he shouted after the hound, chasing him through the Castle’s halls.

He had to duck several Minutemen who all seemed to be going in the same direction, and when he made it out to the courtyard again, he could see why.

The giant metal door to the west bastion was open. Coming out of it, propped up between Preston and the old woman MacCready recognized from before, was the Boss. She looked far too worse for wear for her to have been out of his sight for less than two hours. That alone made MacCready run faster, though he didn’t realize it.

A sizable group of people surrounded them as they came out, and he could hear the woman—Ronnie, right?—raising her voice above all of them.

“Make way, people, make way!” she shouted, and when they didn’t move fast enough for her liking, tacked on, “I said move, dammit!”

That was all it took for the crowd to disperse enough for MacCready to push through, Dogmeat having somehow already weaved through their legs to be beside his owner. Ronnie looked at MacCready as he approached, almost baffled that someone would be stupid enough to ignore her orders, and went to open her mouth to tear him a new one before the Boss spoke first.

“This one’s fine, Ronnie,” she said and met his eye. For once, MacCready couldn’t identify the vibe between them, but at least it didn’t seem outright cold on her end.

He gave her a quick once over, noticing several new tears in her denim jacket, dirt wiped across her forehead, and she didn’t seem to be putting her weight down on her left foot. The three of them, Preston, Ronnie, and herself, were all covered in a fine layer of dust as well.

MacCready stared at her, dumbfounded, “What the hell happened?”

“Can we keep this conversation moving? In case you forgot, you’re not the only one with battle scars,” Ronnie snipped, and MacCready caught the hole in her right sleeve, blood soaking the ripped fibers revealing where a bullet had grazed her arm.

“Again, I’m sorry—” the Boss tried to say, but was cut off by Preston.

“I mean no disrespect, Ronnie, but if it hadn’t been for the General pulling you out of the turret fire, that injury could have been a lot worse,” he said to Ronnie’s sour look. It earned a grateful smile from the Boss, and MacCready watched as Preston returned it in earnest.

Ronnie narrowed her eyes at her fellow Minuteman, however, but relented, “I’ll admit, she was pretty clutch down there. Maybe we’ll make a General of her yet. Now c’mon, keep it moving.”

“Is anyone gonna tell me what the hell happened?” MacCready demanded again as he walked after them. “Where did you even go?”

“Tunnels, under the Castle,” the Boss explained as they crossed the courtyard to an archway across from the west bastion. “Old General holed himself down in the armory when that mirelurk queen first attacked over forty years ago. He rigged the place up good with turrets and land mines, but the real kicker was the glitched out sentry bot. It ran over my foot.”

MacCready balked, “And you were close enough for it to do that?!”

“A robot that big makes for tight quarters, so,” she shrugged as Ronnie and Preston brought her to what he realized was the direction of her quarters. “Guess I’m just lucky.”

For someone who just went up against a god damn sentry bot, the Boss seemed pretty unfazed by it all. Probably still in shock, he was willing to bet. Still, the fact that she had fought deathclaws and killer robots only to come away with relatively minor injuries from either was enough for him to begrudgingly agree with her.

“Two hours,” he mumbled as he pushed open the doors to her quarters for them, “you were gone for two hours.”

“Can’t take me anywhere, I know, I know,” the Boss said, putting on a laugh and trying to cut the tension as Ronnie and Preston lowered her into one of the chairs surrounding a long table with a map on top. Dogmeat circled around them to sit under the table near the Boss, letting out a low whimper as a hiss of pain came from her when her foot scraped against the floor.

The room was dark, but behind the table, MacCready could make out a bed with a bent wire frame, neatly made in spite of it, and a table with an oil lantern next to it. Other than that, the room was pretty spartan save for a flimsy wooden desk to the right. He walked over to the bedside table and grabbed a box of matches on top as the others got her settled. He lit the wick inside the lantern and closed it, bringing it over to the table where the rest of them were congregated.

“I’ll go see if there’s someone with any medical knowledge that can spare some time to patch you up,” Preston said as MacCready sat the lantern down, but the Boss held up her hand.

“No need,” she replied, and looked directly at MacCready. “We’ve got someone right here.”

He froze, and Preston’s eyes flitted towards him for a second, then back to the Boss.

“If you trust him,” he said, and MacCready picked up immediately that Preston did not. “I’ll go explain the situation, then. I’m sure people are already talking.”

“No doubt about it. Ronnie, if you’d like, you can grab a couple people and start takin’ inventory on the armory like you mentioned. I wanna know everythin’ we’ve got down to the last bullet,” she said as Preston left, and Ronnie nodded sharply.

“You got it, General,” she confirmed, and MacCready watched as the Boss’ posture straightened a little at her title. “We can talk artillery later. I’ll go get this wrapped up and get started.”

With that, the two of them were left alone and the Boss crumpled into herself, deflated. Now that he could get a proper look at her, even in the lantern light, MacCready could see just how shaken up she looked now that the adrenaline had worn off.

“Holy shit, Mac,” she said after a minute, head in her hands. At least she was calling him ‘Mac’ again. “Holy shit.”

“Two hours,” he repeated.

“I know.”

With a sigh, Mac unshouldered his pack and pulled out his medkit, setting it on the table and kneeling down next to the Boss’ feet. Dogmeat shuffled out from under the table to hop up on the bed, seemingly satisfied that someone else was looking after her. As Mac settled by her feet, the Boss lifted her head up from her hands and wordlessly handed him the lantern so he had more light to see by.

“Guess I’m gonna have to start payin’ you as a medic now, too,” she said, breaking the tense air between them.

“Guess so. Mind if I…?” he asked awkwardly, gesturing to her booted left foot. If they didn’t get it off soon, he’d hate to waste such good leather by cutting it off before her foot swelled up too much.

She nodded and he began to unlace it gently, trying not to shift her foot one way or the other. The swelling hadn’t progressed too far thanks to Preston and Ronnie keeping her off it, so the boot came off fairly easily despite the hiss of pain from the Boss.

“I’ve got Med-X if you need it,” he offered, when to anyone else he would have just told them to bite down on a rag and suck it up.

She shook her head aggressively, “No. That stuff makes me feel out of it in a real bad way. Hold on.”

Despite himself, Mac wondered when and how she had come to that conclusion as she moved to slip her right arm out of her jacket. She put the sleeve in her mouth and bit down before nodding for him to continue.

He rolled up the cuff of her jeans to move them out of the way, then slipped her tube sock off as softly as he could. She groaned into her sleeve as it came off, biting down harder and screwing her eyes shut.

Once she had regained herself, she took her sleeve out of her mouth but refused to look down, “What’s the prognosis, doc?”

On sight alone, Mac could tell that she had several broken toes and possibly a few fractured metatarsal bones. He hadn’t been completely zoning out when Lucy went through her phase of trying to memorize every bone in the human body, and he’d fractured his foot as a teenager once or twice. Her boots must have been steel-toed, because it could have been a lot worse. It was nothing that a stimpak and a few days off her feet couldn’t fix.

“We might have to amputate.”

The Boss’ head snapped down to him and he couldn’t help the way a sly grin sneaked onto his face as she said, “Not. Funny.”

“Alright, alright. Hand me a stimpak, would ya?” he asked, nodding to his medkit.

Mac watched as her eyes fell onto it before going back to him. She raised a hesitant hand, silently asking for permission, and he swallowed but nodded. She undid the latch and lifted the lid up by the edges. He saw her adamantly refusing to look at the LUCY scratched into the lid as she rifled for a stimpak. At this point she must have realized the name meant something to him, even if he hadn’t told her anything. But, like before, she didn’t say anything and simply handed him a stimpak. For all her self-evident nosiness, Mac guessed there were some things the Boss knew better than to dig into.

He popped the cap off the hypo, handing it to her to hold as he rested her foot on top of her bunched up sock in his lap. At her ready, he slid the needle under the skin, letting it pump in its magic until it was empty. He slid it out and traded her for the medical tape and a roll of bandages. He wrapped her foot carefully, doing it just how he remembered, not too loose and not too tight.

Once he was done, the Boss’ foot was wrapped up to her ankle and according to her, feeling better already.

“Sure, but you still need to stay off it for a few days,” he told her seriously.

She breathed a laugh through her nose, “You can be the one to tell Ronnie and Preston that. They’ve got all sorts of stuff they want me to do while I’m here. Ronnie wants to get started rebuildin’ the Castle’s artillery yesterday and Preston wants to sit down and talk about recruitment, trainin’, settin’ up supply lines…”

“They’ll just have to suck it up. Stimpaks do a lot of the work, but you’ll screw it all up if you put stress on it,” he said firmly as he stood up and sat the lantern back on the table. “Might need a few days, depending on how you feel.”

“Yessir, Doctor MacCready,” the Boss said with a mock salute, making him roll his eyes despite his mouth curling at the corners.

As he undid his pack to put his medkit back, quiet fell over them. The fire inside the lantern cast dancing shadows about the room, their own displayed on the walls around them. After an appropriate amount of time, the Boss spoke, a softer, more serious tone settling over her voice.

“You know we need to talk, right? Like, actually talk.”

Mac paused as he closed his pack, lifting his head to look over to her. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to finally tell him she was through with him. If fixing her injuries was his last act of service to her under her employ, well. There were worse ways to go out.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and braced himself.

“I’m sorry,” they said at the same time, catching the other off guard.

“Let me go first,” the Boss said quickly, putting her hands up and in his confusion. He didn’t argue. “I’m the one who screwed up. I…I poked too deep during that stupid game, I understand that now. Real hypocritical with how I’ve been actin’ about my own business, I know, but. Next time I’m bein’ too nosy, just smack me, okay? I’ll get it. I’m sorry.”

Mac hadn’t been expecting an apology, and it left him at a loss for words. For all her chattiness, the Boss didn’t even try to fill the silence as he gathered his thoughts.

“I’m…sorry for reacting the way I did,” he said finally, looking just past her so as not to look her in the eye. He couldn’t handle that right now. “Never had anyone tell me to my face how crappy of an upbringing I had. Usually they either call me a liar or make it weird. Pity…Pity didn’t feel right. I’m sorry, too.”

The Boss’ eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head, “Mac—RJ, that wasn’t pity, hun, that was sympathy. There’s a world of difference.”

“Is there?” he asked, leaning back on the table to keep himself steady. “They sound the same to me.”

“Pity is more surface level, at least to me. Sympathy…that implies deeper concern,” she explained, looking up at him with an earnestness that made his insides go all twisty. “And I was concerned—am concerned—about you. Because I…well, I kinda thought we were friends.”

Oh. Well, didn’t that make Mac feel like shit.

She barreled on, oblivious, “If you don’t wanna be friends, that’s fine, I get it. I’ve been told I can grate on the nerves after a while. We can keep this strictly professional if that’s what you want. But…but if you wanna end our contract, I understand that, too—”

“Are you fu—freaking crazy, Boss?” Mac sputtered before she could finish. She looked up at him with genuine befuddlement. “What the hell gave you the idea that I’d be the one to end it? I thought you were about to cut me loose.”

“Wait, really?” she asked, and he nodded. “Huh. I was worried you were gonna leave and go back to Goodneighbor after this mornin’.”

“Believe me, I’ve put up with way worse contract holders than you,” he went on and she made a face. “Hell, I told you that I used to run with the Gunners and you still hired me, and those fu—freaks were so tightly wound you’d think they were in a cult or something. Doing all this goody-goody Minuteman stuff wasn’t on my to-do list, but…I’ve been having a hell of a time so far.” He met her with a grin. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to, plus your caps are good whether we’re friends or not.”

A pinched smile pushed its way onto her lips as she failed to suppress a laugh.

“You ass,” she sniffed with another choked sound of amusement, wiping at her eyes. “So is that it, then? Can we be friends now?”

“Sure thing, Boss, we can be friends,” Mac agreed, smiling as relief spread through his body like ice water. “Just don’t expect me to join in on the pillow fights or paint our nails together.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’d look marvelous with French tips, hun. We don’t have to do all that, but if we’re gonna be friends, I at least expect you to call me by my name. The ‘Boss’ stuff didn’t bother me at first, but after this it’d just feel weird, y’know?”

She had him there. The title had put a healthy amount of space between them as employer and employee. Now that they were friends, it would feel strange to keep calling her that.

“In case you forgot,” she said, mimicking his familiar shit-eating grin, “it’s Georgia. Georgia Elise Tate.”

“I remember your name,” he sniped, but there was no real malice in his voice.

“Just makin’ sure.”

He sighed, taking in a breath as he readied himself.

“So. Georgia.”

“So,” she replied, copying him, “RJ.”

“No more ‘Mac’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was starting to get used to that one.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more nicknames where that came from. I can rotate ‘em out,” she mused, then held up a hand, counting off her fingers. “Hotshot, Rob, Robby, Bert—oops. Guess you’re gonna have to shoot me.”

Mac snorted, “I’m not going to shoot you, B—Georgia.”

At that, Georgia gave him her signature brilliant smile, and he couldn’t stop his own mouth from grinning in turn. It would take some getting used to, but Mac was sure he could manage, especially now that the air was cleared.

“Well,” Georgia said after a minute, clapping her hands together, “I guess I’m outta commission for a bit, so I’m gonna make an attempt at gettin’ changed, do whatever I can do that doesn’t require bein’ on my feet. So git, get on, shoo. Give a lady some privacy, and close that door on your way out, would ya?”

She playfully waved her hands at him to leave and Mac laughed before obliging. He shoulder his pack again and left, closing the door behind him. Once it was closed, he smiled to himself. That had gone a lot better than expected. A lot.

While thinking about hitting up the showers next, Mac almost jumped ten feet in the air as a voice came from his right.

“Sweet enough to rot my teeth, the two of you.”

Leaned against the wall, looking incredibly threatening even with his lackadaisical posture, was Curtis. Had he been eavesdropping the whole time?

“Ugh, not you again,” Mac groaned, expression twisting into one of displeasure. “What do you want?”

“Don’t act too happy to see me, MacCready. ‘Sides, I said I’d talk to you later, didn’t I?” he said, crossing his arms. Mac had been hoping against hope that he wouldn’t.

He bristled, “Okay, so what do you want? All this cryptic crap is getting annoying.”

“I do it just for you, friend,” Curtis replied, then lowered his voice, leveling Mac with a steely look. “I thought I recognized your name when I heard it. I’ve just been waiting for the other pieces to come together.”

Mac’s blood ran cold. Recognizing him could’ve meant a hundred different things, good or bad, and Mac wasn’t exactly the model citizen type. He knew this guy had been fucky. He fucking knew it.

“Who are you and what do you want? I’m not asking again,” he threatened, rolling his shoulders back and trying to look imposing.

Curtis just laughed in the face of his posturing, “My name is Curtis, if that’s what you’re wondering. And it’s not about what I want, but what I can do for you. If my ears didn’t deceive me…you ran with the Gunners, no? You about said as much to our luver-ly General, but you call her by her name now, don’t you?”

“Just tell me what the hell you’re playing at before this gets ugly,” Mac sneered.

Curtis snorted, “Between you and me, it couldn’t get much uglier. General just seemed unbothered by your previous loyalties is all I’m saying. What squad were you in?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Just me. Promise.”

Mac looked at him for a moment, searching for a motive or any sign that he was lying, but the man gave away nothing. Given that he was now friends with the General of the Minutemen, he didn’t want to tarnish her reputation if it got misconstrued that she had Gunner sympathies or anything like that.

“Why do you want to know, then?” he asked, hoping to pry more information out of him.

“So full of questions. I want to know because I may have some information you might be interested in if I’m right about you,” Curtis replied simply. “Information about folks that may or may not be looking for you.”

Mac narrowed his eyes at him, then sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“I was in a squad under Captain Winlock and Lieutenant Barnes,” he said finally, and Curtis whooped.

“Motherfucker, I knew it!” he all but shouted, pushing off the wall and punching the air wildly. “I knew you were the one they were talking about, I just had to be sure. Motherfucker, I was your replacement.”

Mac’s brow furrowed, “Replacement? Wait, you’re a Gunner?”

“Aht, aht, ex-Gunner. Given that you’re one, too, I’d expect the same courtesy,” Curtis tutted, “but I’m familiar with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. After you left, I got reassigned to their squad to replace your ass because they needed another sniper. Only reason I know your damn name is because they bitched about you the entire time. Their favorite line to throw around was ‘if that son of a bitch MacCready were still here, he wouldn’t have missed that shot, asshole’, so.”

“Well,” Mac said after a moment, trying to process the information he’d just been given, “real talent can be hard to come by, I guess.”

Curtis barked out a laugh, “You are a real son of a bitch, ain’tcha? I should be inclined to hate you, but I figured anyone who’d stand up to the Gunners like you did deserves some respect.”

Mac felt his neck grow hot and he reached up to scratch it, “Uh, thanks, I guess. You said those two ass–ugh, that those two idiots were still looking for me? How do you know?”

“I know they’re keeping an ear to the ground about you through a drinking buddy of mine still doing the odd guard job for them. They’re starting to spread the word about you to other squads, and they don’t want you around much longer,” Curtis said, a conspiratorial glint appearing in his eyes. “And if you’re feeling like you wanna do something about that…I know where their new base is, and I’d like to help. The world isn’t gonna miss a couple’a Gunner bastards, especially those two.”

Mac’s head was reeling. It wasn’t unexpected that Winlock and Barnes still had it out for him, he honestly hadn’t expected anything less. He knew that if he happened to come across either of them again, they wouldn’t hold back–all bets were off, and he didn’t like the odds. What surprised him, however, was the other man’s willingness to throw down, as well as the door behind him swinging open before he could respond.

He and Curtis froze, only turning their heads to see Georgia standing in the doorway, hopping around on her good foot.

“Jesus, if you two are any louder people are gonna think you’re up to somethin’,” she hissed in a whisper. She’d gotten as far as undoing the buttons of her flannel before she caught them, revealing a stained tank top underneath. “Inside, now. That includes you, Campbell.”

“Why, General, how luver—lovely to see you—”

“Can it and get in here.”

The two men did as they were told, and Mac helped Georgia hop back to the chair she’d been in. Curtis took another and spun it around to sit backwards in it, resting his arms over the top while Mac opted to stand.

“First of all, explain yourself, Captain,” Georgia demanded, crossing her arms. “You didn’t tell anyone you were a Gunner when you signed up.”

Curtis at least had the sense to look sheepish. He took off his hat where it had been pulled down low on his forehead, displaying an O+ in thin black ink on the left side of his temple.

“Would you have let me join if I did?” he asked, reaching up to ghost a hand over the tattoo, Georgia’s eyes squinting at the symbol over her glasses.

“I would’ve had to discuss it with Preston, but…I’d like to think so,” Georgia nodded after a moment. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Oh,” Curtis said, voicing the surprise Mac felt, “well then.”

“Who else knows?” she asked. “And can you trust them not to blab? I’d hate to hear someone came after you because of it.”

Curtis’ mustache twitched at the corners, “Your concern is appreciated, Gen. There’s only a few people here that know the broad strokes of it, but not the nitty gritty bits. They’re part of my team. We’ve been doing a lot of caravan guarding from here to Bunker Hill and Diamond City for some of the supply lines that you’ve been sending this way, and you get to know each other on the road. I trust them.”

Georgia spared a glance at Mac, the ghost of a knowing grin on her lips.

“They also give us a discount for it that the kitchen staff love, by the way,” Curtis continued, attempting to cement his place in her favor, “so that’s even more of a reason to not kick me to the curb.”

Georgia turned back to him, shaking her head with a gentle laugh, “You’ve already proven yourself a good and loyal captain if you trust your team with that kind of thing, so you’re secret’s safe with me. And Mac.”

“Thanks, General,” Curtis said, sounding sincere for the first time since Mac had known him, and put his hat back on.

Georgia’s attention again flitted over to Mac again, raising an accusatory eyebrow at him.

“What?” he asked, half defensive.

She tilted her chin up at his hat, “You don’t have a tattoo on your forehead. Why didn’t the Gunners brand you?”

Curtis leaned forward, head cocked to the side, “I was wondering the same thing. Didn’t think I had the right guy when I knocked your hat off.”

Ignoring the fact that Curtis had nearly sent him flying with his shoulder check from their first meeting, Mac shrugged.

“I just managed to convince them I wouldn’t need it. I’m a sniper, I’m not really supposed to be in the direct line of fire,” he said, and gave Georgia a speaking look that undoubtedly reminded her of all the times she had dragged him into the middle of a firefight. “I told them I wouldn’t get hit because I do my damn job right, and I guess they thought the shrimp with a cocky attitude was funny enough to put the needle and ink away. I know they were gonna use it against me if I ever got hit, and let me bleed out as a lesson because I didn’t get the stupid tattoo, but like I said: I do my damn job right. I’m a B negative, apparently, if that matters.”

“Smart thinking on your part,” Curtis muttered, looking like he’d wished he’d done the same thing.

Georgia, on the other hand, was squinting at him as if trying to picture him with his blood type scratched in black above his left eyebrow. She gave him a small, amused smile as she said, “A face tattoo wouldn’t be your best look. Anyways, if I heard y’all right, those two assholes from the bar are still lookin’ to give you trouble. Why?”

“Because I’m still taking work in their ‘territory’, I’d guess,” Mac answered, running a hand down his face. “You weren’t exactly subtle back in Goodneighbor when you insisted on paying me for the library job. Someone must’ve seen and word traveled after that.”

He watched as Georgia bit the inside of her cheek, looking guilty.

“Christ. Back in the Third Rail, it sounded like you were havin’ a rough time,” she said, rubbing her arm. “And I made it worse.”

“No, you didn’t,” Mac replied, shaking his head fervently, “but ‘rough’ is putting it mildly. Let’s put it this way: can’t get much rest when you’re sleeping with one eye open all the time.”

He waited a moment before continuing. His eyes flitted between Georgia and Curtis, who looked content to sit back and let her and Mac talk. He hadn’t planned on being vulnerable with one person today, much less two, but he guessed he was doing this.

“Goodneighbor was a good place to look for work, but a crappy place to hang your hat,” he said eventually. “Still, it was the best place for me to set up shop. Diamond City’s goons would have run me outta town, and wandering the Commonwealth alone isn’t the brightest plan when you’re hard up for caps.”

“I hear that,” Curtis agreed, and Georgia nodded but continued to sit and listen quietly.

“I needed somewhere to hang out so that people could find me when they required my services. The folks in Goodneighbor tended not to ask too many questions, which suited my needs. So, I made a deal with Hancock and started waiting for the caps to roll in,” he explained, picking at a loose thread on the ripped side of his duster as he talked. “Winlock and Barnes were hounding me for months and it was driving off clients. No one wanted to touch me once they learned I used to run with the Gunners. Well, until you showed up.”

He looked at Georgia and she met his eye, the corner of her mouth curling. She may not have realized it, but she’d been a godsend when she walked into the Rail that night, pockets full of caps and greener than a super mutant. He’d probably be passed out in some Goodneighbor gutter right about now if she hadn’t hired him.

“I figured if I could get enough caps together, maybe I could buy them out,” he shrugged. “That’s been the plan all along, but I’m not even sure how much I’d need.”

“I wouldn’t trust those guys, even if you did pay them off,” Georgia said, shaking her head.

“Honestly, that’s not even what concerns me most,” Mac sighed, scratching at the hair on his chin. “I’m wondering how to even pull it off. They might decide to just keep the caps and put a bullet in my head for good measure. But if I set up a place to meet them, I’m sure they’d roll in with everyone they’ve got.”

Curtis suddenly looked thoughtful, reaching up to stroke his mustache.

“Unless…” he mused aloud, staring off into space.

“Unless?” Mac and Georgia said simultaneously.

“Look,” Curtis said, returning his gaze to them, “I have my own beef with those two bozos. If you’re feeling froggy, we could jump them at their own base before they even realize what’s going on.”

“Wouldn’t that just give them the home advantage?” Georgia countered, leaning forward with her chin in her hand.

“Maybe, but there’s something to be said about the art of surprise,” Curtis grinned. “Ever heard of the Mass Pike Interchange? That’s where they’re at. I was still with them when they took it over for themselves, so I know that base inside and out. It’s on an overpass, so it’s mostly out. Let me come with you and give those fuckers a what-for.”

“I wanna come, too,” Georgia nodded. “Lord knows I have enough of a personal reason to after what they did at Quincy.”

“Thanks for the offer, but three against a whole Gunner squadron would be a long walk to a quick death,” Mac rebuffed, shaking his head. “We have to be smart about this if…if it’s something we want to do.”

“Do you want to?” Georgia asked, concern written all over her features.

“Yes, but…again, just the three of us and we get ourselves killed,” he stressed, but Curtis raised his hand.

“Not to point out the obvious,” he said, shrugging, “but we’re surrounded by Minutemen, new and old. I know at least four more people who have their own bones to pick with the Gunners. Wouldn’t be hard to talk ‘em into joining us. Plus, I’m a Captain. I can pull rank on them or whatever.”

Georgia’s eyebrows pinched together in thought as she bit her lip, turning towards the table beside her. Mac and Curtis followed her gaze, eyes roaming over the map of the Commonwealth spread on top of it. There were several small pieces of random trash scattered about it—used bullet casings, bottle caps too worn to be spent, balled up pieces of paper–and Mac gathered they were used as markers for the various locations under the Minutemen banner.

“Aha, here,” she said, reaching across the table to jab at where the interchange was, then frowned. “Shit. There aren’t any near enough settlements, and we haven’t had any reports from Oberland about Gunner attacks either. I couldn’t frame this as a Minuteman issue even if I wanted to.”

“But you’re the General,” Mac pointed out, arching an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather not go the whole ‘abuse of power’ route if I can,” she shrugged, huffing out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Mac.”

“But you’re the General,” Curtis repeated, a scheming grin behind his mustache.

“As we’ve established.”

“Which means if, say, a few people under your command coincidentally wanted to request leave around the same time…” He trailed off, letting the two of them fill in the blanks themselves.

Georgia slowly mirrored his grin, “Oh, you’re sneaky, Campbell. I like it.”

“So, are we doing this? I can go get the squad ready at your call,” Curtis offered, beginning to stand.

“I hate to be a downer,” Mac started.

“No, you don’t,” Georgia quipped and he threw her a look before he continued.

“You still have a broken foot. You’re not going anywhere for at least another three days, and that’s with regular stimpaks,” he told her firmly. She huffed at him, but gave in.

“Fine. Then we go in three days,” she said, “because you aren’t goin’ without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, General,” Curtis nodded. “Three days gives us plenty of time to think of a plan.”

Mac turned to Georgia, who met him with a knowing grin.

“Well, that’s just my forte.”

#fallout #fallout fic #fallout 4 #fo4 #rj maccready #fic: best laid plans #FINALLY she is out. whew.

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underwater-i-will-go · 1 year ago

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personally i think these two make quite the pair.

age gap of a whole decade, one with a potentially big future ahead, the other, who's had a rocky path to success, still wildly under appreciated, feels like despite working hard for newcastle now, he'll never get the recognition he thinks he deserves. was that selfish of him?

matchday at saint james's park. they're up against burnley - a club that's spent a season in the championship and has now fought its way back up. weird match that is for nick. he's started his senior career at this club, has made more memories there than he has now at newcastle, better memories even perhaps. it's not like he's not happy here, after all he's playing champions league now. he's become big, some might say. he's "upgraded" like the younger lads at the club say, miguel at least. thinks that's a good thing, happy he can contribute here and play good games. but he's heard of burnley's new keeper - a very young boy who's delivered a magnificent performance at the u21 euros this year, granting england the win. double penalty save in the 96th minute of the final, keeping a clean sheet throughout the whole tournament, something no one had achieved before him - all the things nick never got to experience. and he knows he never will, at least it's more than unlikely.

"i'm getting old." nick sighs to the man two years his senior sitting next to him whilst tying his boots. "feels like i'll never get be on pickford's level now." kieran smiles. "what's it with you and jordan as of lately? feels like you always bring him up somehow."

"dunno. guess it's cause international breaks coming up again and i'll likely won't get called up again." kieran understands nick's frustration, even when he's older than nick, he still gets favoured by southgate and starts in most games for england. jordan is one of his best friends so he could never talk down his undeniable talent for england, but everyone knows that he won't forever be the country's number one, ramsdale will eventually step up someday. and nick never got there, his age aside, his talent seems to have always been overlooked by southgate, even when he'd been in the squad for as long as jordan had been.

"ah don't worry about it. gareth only calls you up for big things. like the world cups, remember." kieran caresses nick's shoulder, nick letting his head fall on the up of kieran's, almost melting into him in defeat. "or maybe even that new guy. everyone always says he's got the potential to be in the senior squad someday." nick says. kieran raises an eyebrow at him "trafford? yeah, he's no where near ready for that yet man. don't worry."

the match is about to begin - everyone gathers in the tunnel. nick puts on his gloves, notices dan chatting with one of the burnley players, when he suddenly makes eye contact with the new guy, the new keeper. he smiles at nick, to his surprise he's eye to eye with him, nick thought he was much smaller. no words are exchanged, james seems quite intimidated by nick.

after nick had to save a single sloppy ball early into the game, it's gotten quite around newcastle's goal. as expected, burnley didn't exactly have the best restart into the new season. but this gives nick the chance to analyse james's game better. he's doing well, the burnley players getting dominated by newcastle, but james manages to do quite a few good saves, ends up conceding two nevertheless. wonders if he could've done that at his age. probably not. when the final whistle is blown, nick and his teammates make their rounds to applaud the fans after another three points have been collected on this afternoon. james approaches him, pulling off his gloves to go in for a handshake. "well played, always been looking up to you. you're a bit of a legend here at burnley, at least that's what a lot of my teammates say. and i think that too." james smiles. "thanks, means a lot. seen you play in the euros this year. unreal. you were good today." nick says with a smile he's not sure he really means. james's eyes lit up, he's getting flustered. wants to say more to nick but is interrupted by one of his own teammates. their ways part - nick knows he won't forget this small interaction so soon. james probably doesn't quite realise the potential he has, the talent. feels just like when nick was his age, the self doubt was always there.

nick keeps thinking about his age. about how time flies, how despite him being in good health, he will never be a "legend". just another good keeper, never the best. no matter how many more clean sheets he'll play, he'll always be in pickford's and ramsdale's shadow, unable to step out. he knows he's good for newcastle, was good for burnley in his days there, but starting for england in something that's not a nations league game or a random friendly seems impossible to achieve. why is so determined on that anyway? he doesn't know. he knows he should be happy with what he's achieved at his own clubs so far, knows he can do even more. even better. but meeting james today was like looking into a mirror, like teleporting back to when he was his age. 20 years old. seems like an eternity ago. james was confident on the pitch, giving a 100%, saving balls coming at him from players with a lifelong experience. maybe that was just facade. so young. nick pulls his kit off and stares at himself in the mirror for a second. everyone always says he doesn't look his age, could pass for 25ish. maybe they're lying, he doesn't care. he yearns to be young again, being able to turn back time, work harder, have less self doubt. be more confident. be like james. he snaps out of it. is he really jealous of a 20 year old kid right now? embarrassing. "pull yourself together. you're playing champions league on wednesday." he says to himself.

in the shower he keeps thinking of todays events. his age. his future. and james.

#rambles #fic

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sweetcloverheart · 1 year ago

Text

Small snippet I made

The moment Adrien steps through the door, the class goes silent.

You'd think he'd be use to it by now, especially after three weeks, but he still can't help but flinch at all the cold, uncomfortable stares that firmly pin him in place as the earlier excited air seemed to evaporate, as if his very presence seemed to kill the cheerful atmosphere.

(It beared a rather chilling resemblance to this morning's breakfast with his father, where his attempt to ask to join in a class event immediately quashed the rare good mood his father had been in)

"Just say the word kid, and I can have 3 month old brie stuffed in all their desks by end of lunch." Plagg whispers, and Adrien can only lightly tap his pocket to keep his Kwami quiet. Much as he appreciated the offer of mischief done on his behalf, he suspects it would just make things more difficult in his goals of making actual friends in his first year of public school.

So instead, he walks over to the waving Chloe, who's completely unaffected by the sudden dim mood as she greets him alongside the waiting Sabrina in the lower row.

"Just ignore them, Adrichou. Those loser are barely worth your precious time!" She scoffed, sneering at the group across from her while allowing him to slide in to his window seat before she primly sits back down and begins telling about the "surprise" secret guest her father is preparing a room for as he partially tunes her out. He knows it's rude, but he...really just wasn't in the mood to indulge Chloe right now. Besides, Sabrina more than makes up for his silence by holding most of the conversation and asking questions to the point that Chloe near barely notices he isn't even participating in the topic.

He tries looks over past her to the other row, where a dark haired girl (Juleka he thinks) meets his eye briefly before jolting and turning away, practically hiding herself behind her hair so he couldn't look at her anymore. It causes the blonde girl next to her to pull her closer practically hiding her behind her petite frame (which was a feat) before turning her attention back to her friend.

He then looks at the empty desk before him, frowning. Nino, the boy that occupied it, would have noticed his quietness and pulled him into a conversation, or cracked jokes until he'd gotten a smile out of him - but he was still out sick from getting knocked into a fountain by that akuma from two days ago (apparently, the Miraculous Cure did nothing to prevent sickness if it wasn't directly Akuma caused), so it was self-inflicted silence until class finally started.

Eventually, the first bell rings as Bustier arrived, all good cheer and smiles while being completely oblivious to the tension in the air as she headed to her desk and began rolecall. She was getting to the second row to the right when the door slammed open suddenly

"Geez girl, talk about cutting it close!" the transfer student Alya laughs from the far back as Marinette stumbles in after the final late bell, panting heavily as she apologizes for being late. Bustier easily forgives it and just tells her to simply work on trying to be on time and to head to her desk.

As she heads for the stairs and Bustier continues calling names, Adrien perks up at the sudden brightening of the class's demeanor now that Marinette was present. This was good opportunity wasn't it? With the class more happier and Marinette seeming to be in a good mood, maybe he could use this as a chance to smooth things over by greeting her. Then they'd see he wasn't as bad as they thought and be more willing to talk to him, hang out with him, maybe even let exchange phone numbers.

Marinette makes it to the steps and Adrien prepares to give her a bright and hearty "Good Morning" -

"Late again, Dupain-Cheng?" Chloe laughs, smile turning sharp as she leaned forward while Sabrina snickered encouragingly "You'd think someone who lives practically a block away would be able to get here on time. What, did you trip and break your alarm clock? Or maybe it's just normally busted, being so cheap and all~."

Marinette freezes to glare, and Adrien, completely missing it (and the sarcasm in Chloe's comments), adds on -

"Oh, I can buy you a new one if you need it?" He offers, smiling at her sweetly as he stood to look at her better "Or I can recommend a brand if you preferring buying it yourself? The cheap ones tend to be faulty, like Chloe said, so I could have Nathalie find a affordable store in your price range with good products."

He can't help but pause to be a little proud of himself after. That anime he watched last week had two characters bond after one offered to help the other replace their damaged watch because they were too poor to afford it, and realized the other was nicer than they first assumed. Marinette must be feeling the same way now and thinks he isn't someone scary anymore!

But she doesn't. In fact, rather than looking grateful, Marinette's face turned from red to pale in an instant as she met his gaze before hurrying up the stair to where Alya waited, literally burying herself in the other's shoulder while she (and the rest of the class) just glared, forcing Adrien back in his seat as he shrank under their scrutiny as shame and confusion burn in his chest.

Chloe's scathing cruel laugh after just makes it worse

You know, thinking about it some more, by "Derision"'s own premise - Marinette should have absolutely hated (or at least distrusted) Adrien day one regardless of the Umbrella apology, because him being friends with Chloe would have been the major issue/deal breaker. The moment she hears he's Chloe's childhood friend, she would have been doing utmost to avoid him at every turn despite him being so nice to her (After all, Kim was nice to her too, and look what happened there) because all the apparent deepseated trauma Chloe's prank left her.

Also, by extension, the class would have distrusted him too (and Kim maybe)? This is a dude that's apparently besties with the girl who's been harassing them for years and made their beloved favorite classmate go through a super traumatizing event the year before. A good majority of Adrien's first few months at Francois Dupount should have been the miraclass all avoiding him and playing interference whenever he tried to interact with Marinette, with the only minor exceptions being Nino (Who is the goodest of boys and also wasn't in the same class as Mari and Co when it happened but really should know regardless considering Chloe videotaped it and put it online?), Alya (Who just transferred in and likely wouldn't know what's happening either), and Chloe+Sabrina (The former of whom is more than happy that the losers are keeping away from her precious Adrichou! More of him for her then!). (And maybe also Kim? He probably sees it as Adrien going through what he did after the prank and deciding to buddy up/help him out since "nobody here knows how to take a joke")

Meanwhile, Adrien would feel so confused and isolated because his class all just hates him for some reason and he has no clue what he might of did to make them all mad at him? And it just makes school feel like home except 100 times worst because at least he (thinks he) knows why his dad often ignores and avoids him. And speaking of, he can't go to him about the problem because he'll just use the class's actions as an excuse to lock him back up in the manor for homeschool because it just "proves" he was completely right about Adrien not being safe at public school, and Chloe's no good either because her "help" (i.e Calling daddy or the principal to take away a class privilege or get a trip/activity cancelled those mean losers made her precious Adrien sad - so fix it or else!) ends up just worsening the divide, so he's basically on his own except for Plagg (who sadly can't really intervene in a way that would actually solve the issue). It also ends up funneling into making his crush on Ladybug 220% more codependent because it's literally one of the very few relationships he has where he isn't being treated like a leaper, idol, or a nuisance...except it turns out she also hates Adrien - but that's fine, because Chat Noir hates Adrien too! Dude's just the worst, don't you think my lady? So everything fine because they can hate Adrien together and bond through that (self hatred and poor coping mechanisms go brrr~)!

Basically the first 2 and a half seasons should have played out like an "Enemies!AU" where Marinette and most of the Miraclass is convinced Adrien is Chloe's new vice chief bully and act accordingly as Adrien desperately tries (and fails) to make friends and figure out why everyone dislikes him so much, while the Ladynoir side has the two bonding over how much they hate that lame blonde modeling twink from the magazines.

...Ah crap, now I want to make an AU.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Gonna be calling this “Public Enemies” AU #Seems appropriate seeing as how most of the beef is happening on the civilian side of things #“It's a little snippet” I lie like a liar as I make a full length fic chapter #Public Enemies!AU

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pumpkinpot · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get an aizawa x reader where he has a thigh kink, like as he goes down on her he wants to basically be crush by them and also thigh fucking😶

OH MY GODS hello! Thank you for being my first request. I can absolutely do that. I have to admit, though I adore Aizawa, I've never wrote for him so.... I'm sorry if its not fantastic the first couple rounds. Also, I did not get a proof reader just wrote it and left.

Jesus this ended up being longer than intended lol. Its also very him oriented. the reader is not played with as much in this one

TW: Sex. sub!Aizawa themes. Thigh asphyxiation kink. (breath play.)

Word out 1.3k

His day was shit. No other way to put it. From children not cooperating to his higher ups demand he "control his students better," he had two goals. Go home and go the fuck to bed. But when he opened the door to his empty apartment the silence threatened to drown him.

You'd expressed many times that your home was open to him and that you'd even like to see him more when you he had time or energy. To solidify this you'd slipped him a key, that had remained untouched on his bedside table ever since.

It wasn't that he didn't want to use it more than anything he craved you but, it was a genuine case of time. you lived across town and it was hard to get away from work when he quite literally lived at his job. Plus, though he wouldn't admit it, he was afraid of boring you. Whenever he did have a second to himself it was often stolen by ungraded papers or a much needed coffee break.

You didn't deserve him to come over and work at your dining room table.

He stays at his place only long enough to swipe the key from the table and grab a snack bag. (a snack offering for you taking in his stray ass.)

You'd gotten the text, "can I come over?" thirty minutes ago and replied a bit too quickly for your liking. "yes, please."

You didn't intend to sound so needy but aside from the morning texts and occasional calls it had become nearly impossible to see each other recently.

A knock came to the front door, followed by a clink of his key in the lock. You tried to act as nonchalant as you could, laying on your sofa, flipping through a random book.

His fingers spread throughout your hair, scratching bit behind your ear. you were nearly positive that his is how he scratches his cats but shit, if this is the treatment they got from him on a regular basic get you some cat ears and a tail.

"Hey baby," you say lacing your fingers through his and planting a kiss on his wrist.

He responds with a kiss of his own, tapping your leg. You open to him as he nestles himself between your thighs.

"Long day?" you ask, pinning a stand of loose hair behind his ear. you practically feel the tension shimmy from his bones as he melts into you.

"Hmhm," is all he says. Your thighs are bare the only part of you covered by a pair of kitten printed panties and one of his tee shirts he'd left for you. "thank you for letting me come over."

It wasn't a favor. You needed this as much as he did, but that was going to stay behind closed lips for now. "Of course my love."

Pulling your right thigh over his shoulder, he closed his eyes, burring himself deeper into your touch.

He taps a finger on the curve of your hips so you lift your butt, his hands sliding across the swell of your ass before you melt back down.

Massaging lightly where your thigh meets the curve of your butt, your hips lazily grind against his chest in a slow row.

The act, though as innocent as it might have began is steadily heats a need in him.

A pang of guilt cools him down like ice. This wasn't why he came here. He didn't come to get off and not see you again for a month, but fuck the way he fit between your legs had his mind wandering to what it might feel like to-

The thought is cut by the long intentional grid you give this time your hand never leaving the base of his hair.

where you-

"what are you reading?" He fishes, looking up at your distracted gaze.

You'd reread the same sentence at least a dozen time trying to distract yourself from a need growing in your belly. He didn't come here to be used as a sex toy. It was the first time he'd used your key and the last thing you wanted was to make him thing that' s all you wanted. Plus, He's probably tired. "Nothing important."

Shota takes the vague answer as a slight invitation to distract you, as much as you'll allow him.

the pads of his fingers dig grooves into your ass as he gives one, two, three kisses to the tops of your thigh, working his way down your hip.

The leg still over his shoulder flexes instinctually and you feel the heat break.

He pulls your other thigh up, wrapping his hand just below your knees. you give a playful squeeze. He squeeze's with you, a silent plea for more pressure. You give a half flex, his breath hitching.

A long sigh follows before his eyes find yours. He passes a glance between you and your discarded book a smile dancing along his lips. "you ready to give me attention?"

You opt out of giving an answer, instead, pulling your heels together behind him and giving another halfhearted grip. He sucks in a breath ready for the asphyxiation, but you release too soon and the air gets caught in his throat.

"oh, you," he bites down on the thick of your thigh, "little tease."

You smile a wicked thing his want to be viced between your legs evident by his needy fingers digging into your skin and heavy breathing, waiting for any moment for you to take the air away from him.

"Feeling needy baby?" you say, brushing hair from his forehead. you hug your thighs together only to readjust your seated position.

He pants again, eyes betrayed by your lack of follow through to end his shit via your thighs.

"I-I," he starts, but you break the sentence with a full engagement of your leg muscles, his mouth falling open into a pleading O.

you release after a few seconds. "Show me." you demand.

He unclenches his left hand, tapping on your thigh. A tell tell sign he needs a release for air.

"You do want more?" you ask.

He nods, leaving kisses down your thighs. "yes."

"yes what?"

"Yes, please."

Shota pulls his knees under his planting on all fours. with your permission he unzips himself starting off slowly against his shaft, with a loose grip.

Due to his hero costume Shota had to get used to slight asphyxiation pretty early on, but he can nearly picture the exact moment he realized he liked it, and believe it or not, It had nothing to do with scarf. It looked a lot like right now actually. He was actively being chocked out be a villain's thighs during a rouge patrol night and though it wasn't the best of circumstances he had been looking for a safe way to experiment with this feeling ever since. That's when he found you.

Propped on either side of his head the gradual intensity of your muscles vising him as him gripping himself harder. He allows his tongue to lull out, saliva dripping down your leg and pooling on your panties.

you feel the shake of his hand pumping faster and faster, his release nearing. As you feel his movements begin to stutter you flex one last time before releasing your hold.

His vision blurs at the corners as the rush of his orgasm tears through him followed by air in his lungs. his fingers tingle the cum seeping from his feeling like a jot of light energy forcing him to slightly buck his hips.

He decorates the back of your legs, coming up onto his knees to pump through the crease in your thighs, riding out the high.

He doesn't mean to hold his breath and doesn't realize he's doing so until you pull him down to you and whisper, "breath," into his ear.

He releases a shaky breath hand massaging the back of your thigh and he kneads the cum over your skin.

"I-," he breaths into your neck. "I want more."

you pull your legs around his hip, pushing his cock to rub against your saliva soaked panties.

"Then take more baby."

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa smut #mha x reader #aizawa x y/n

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Better To Be Friends Than Competition (Lindsey x Reader)

Author’s Note: This Technically wasn’t requested, but @literaryhedgehog and i had a blast writing this. It’s the Harry Potter AU. Basically, reader is a muggleborn who really wants to be a chaser, but maybe there’s a better position for her on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the beginning of what will be a multi-part series following the building romance between two amazing characters and how our golden octet help them out along the way.

@sleep-deprived-athlete

“Alright, you’ve all been told the rules and had the chance to warm up. So let’s start by dividing into groups. Anyone who wants to be a seeker follow Mia there to the far side of the field. Beaters to the left with Foudy. Keepers to the goalposts with Hope. And chasers with me up top,” Brandi said with a wave of her hand, kicking off of the ground and heading towards where her group was going to meet.

You snuck a glance to either side of you as you also kick off and head to your position, trying to guess who out of the eight students around you is going to be your biggest competition. Surely you thought more people would have wanted a chance at a spot on one of the best teams at Hogwarts. Tryouts had been packed for the last two years.

You wondered which drill Brandi was going to start with as you approached the group (said woman was idily tossing a quaffle lightly in her hands as she talked to another one of your competition). For the last 2 years it was always a set of passing drills, where would-be chasers played a very complicated game of catch up and down the pitch.

Maybe those tryouts were supposed to be private, but how else could you prepare for them if you didn’t know what to expect?

Quidditch was honestly a really weird sport. Well, American football made less sense, but you hadn’t exactly studied the rules as extensively as you had Quidditch. Like, the game literally would not end until someone caught the snitch. According to Quidditch through the Ages a game had literally lasted for months. You remembered watching a tennis game that lasted for four days before, but generally the muggle sports you grew up with were more consistent in how long each game took.

“Oh yeah”, you thought, watching the beaters line up across the pitch, “and there is also a ball charmed to try and knock people off their broom. That’s not normal.” Though it was something your dad found hilarious.

Sports were always something the two of you could talk about, even before you found out you had magic. He loved the fact that you loved football as much as he did, and was thrilled by the fact that you had enough talent to play it in your primary school.

Though with your hand eye coordination you had done better with cricket, and baseball the few times you had a chance to play it in gym. So when you had joined the wizarding world you naturally had gotten into quidditch. Learned everything you could about the game so you could give him detailed play by plays about the games when you sent owls home.

At this point you were dying to play. You were too short to be a beater or a keeper, but you knew you could be a chaser. You could catch like nobody’s business, and you had at least half of the tactics in The Beginner's Quidditch Playbook memorized. You were going to be the best damn chaser Hogwarts had ever seen.

“Hey space captain, you ready for this?”

“What?” You froze, heat flooding your cheeks at being caught not paying attention. You slowly turned to face the new presence.

You knew the girl. Well. You knew of the girl (it was impossible not to know about the very pretty blond girl). She was in your house and year (and therefore in your dorm as well as all your classes) but the two of you had never really interacted before. She seemed to already know everyone and everything when she got to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really seem like she was looking for friends, and it was hard enough trying to figure out your new life without having people look at you strangely when you didn’t know a word they used. Not that Lindsey, you thought that’s her name anyway, had done that, but other purebloods did. It was easier figuring things out on your own to start, and by the time you did, you and Lindsey had already established yourselves in different friend groups. Was her name Lindsey? A Slytherin in your year was always calling her strange nicknames, so it was hard to tell.

“The drill. Are you ready for the drill space captain?” The girl asked again.

“Yeah, but I’m not a captain. I’m a second year, like you,” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowing. Maybe that was a wizard saying, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Your heart also dropped just a touch because if she thought you were a captain then she had absolutely no idea who you were.

She shook her head with a giggle (showing off her dimples). “My dad says that’s what muggles call a person with their head in the clouds,”

You cocked your head to the side, your brain running a million miles an hour to try and figure out what she meant. But then it clicked. “Oh you mean space cadet,”

“I guess,” She shrugged, seemingly unbothered about the correct verbiage.

The whistle blowing brought both of your attention back towards Brandi and the first set of would-be chasers beginning the crossing drill. You coughed to hide a scoff when Lynn Williams raced at breakneck speed up the pitch, and released the quaffle at least 30 feet off where the chasing captain had instructed.

You shook your head at the play. It was too sloppy, too open and it would never connect well with JJ and Alex up top.

“Not impressed by what you see?” Lindsey asked, her eyebrow quirking up (trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in your answer. You were her competition after all).

“Not after Alex basically destroyed the same course last year. She’s got an 85% accuracy rating on goal and nearly 60% of her shots come off of left crosses. Williams isn’t getting high enough on the pitch to provide an adequate pass,” You mumbled out quickly, wincing when Lynn made the same mistake on the way back, nearly sending her partner (a girl in the year below you named Mal) into the stands to catch it (though you were slightly impressed that Mal managed to grab it before it landed in the seats).

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Her throws tend to either go too short or too long. Even if it doesn’t go directly to her partner it at least needs to be consistent so during a game the person she’s throwing it to knows where to intercept it before the other team does,” Lindsey said, taking a hand off her broom to shield her eyes.

“She’s fast but it won’t help if she forces the other chaser off her line to provide service to Alex in front of the posts,” You huffed. Having her on that side would be a positioning nightmare. It left the team open and vulnerable to so many different attacking options.

“I am not entirely sure what that means,” Lindsey said, smirking as she looked sideways at you, “but it sounds like you don’t think she’s competition, which is good news for us!’

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Brandi’s whistle. “Alright next pair up,”

You gulped and tightened your fingers on your broom “Guess it’s showtime,” You muttered, surging forward to the starting line.

“Good luck space captain, you’re gonna need it,” Lindsey called back towards you with a wink, taking the ball from Brandi.

You shook your head. You wouldn’t need luck. A fucking golden retriever could beat out the performance you had just whitnessed. As long as you didn’t fall off your brooms, you both would be fine.

***

You raced towards the hoops, reaching your arm out to pluck the perfectly timed ball out of its arc towards the ground. Okay, Lindsey was good. Really good. She HAD to have known how bad Lynn’s throws were, because hers were positively perfect. Your throws were good, but Lindsey had this way of arching the ball up through the air if a perfect loop so it practically fell into your hands. There was no way she didn’t practice over the summer.

You neared the posts, starting to make your u-turn to pass the ball back when a flash of gold caught your eyes. Before you really thought it through, the hand anchoring you to your broom had already lifted to snatch it out of the air on instinct. You had played cricket for most of your life- it was instinct to reach out and grab a ball that looked like it was about to fly into your face.

The next few seconds happened almost in slow motion. As your fingers closed around the cool metal, you realized just how far to your side you had to lean to reach the object, and how far off balance it had put you. Your legs crossed tightly as you flipped completely upside down on your broom, entirely unwilling to let go of the object you had just caught or the large quaffle still tucked tightly under your arm. Before you really knew what was happening, you were staring straight at the ground, your legs the only thing keeping you in the air.

“Holy shit, holy shit. Um, hey Lindsey?” You called, eyes on the ground below you.

“What?” You heard her call. You idly wondered why one of the captains hadn’t put a stop to this yet and put you out of your misery.

“Catch?” You threw the quaffle, well tossed it really, up into the air towards where you thought the other girl was. You knew it was going to be short, but also knew that she was going to catch it anyway. She really was that good. With your now free hand you reached up and grabbed the handle of your broom so you could pull yourself to it and rotate back to an upright position.

Only then did you look down at the tiny ball fluttering in your hand. The tiny, almost leathery, wings flapped like it was waving hello. You stared at it in awe, your lips ticking up. You had just caught the golden snitch. You never thought you would get to touch the snitch, much less catch it.

“Hey you” a voice called from the pitch behind you. You turned to look as Mia flew from where the seeker candidates were staring hopelessly at the sky around them to land on the pitch. “Get down here. Yeah, you on the drills.” She motioned down to the pitch, indicating where you should land, then turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Brandi I’m taking number 2.”

You quickly flew towards where she had pointed, shakily dismounting from your broom. You weren’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline or nerves, but your legs felt like jelly. You clutched the little ball in your hand so tightly that you were sure there was going to be an imprint in your palm later.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing in the chaser section?” Mia said, tucking her broom under her arm and throwing her hand up towards the group of would be chasers throwing a ball around at varying distances. (You tried not to wince when Lynn nearly pegged Mal in the face again).

“Um, trying to be a chaser? I was always a good forward so I thought it might fit?” You mumbled with a shrug, scratching the back of your neck with your free hand. a light shade of pink covered your cheeks. It was a little embarrassing how clueless you were with the magical world sometimes, and how even after being here for two full years, you still felt completely out of your depth.

“That’d be like using a cauldron as a teacup because they’re both the same shape. It’d work but what a waste!”

“I…- I have no idea what that means. I know I caught the wrong thing, and I’m sorry. I’ll leave now if that’s what you want,” You stuttered out, suddenly finding the way your shoe poked the pitch underneath you interesting.

“No, kid you misunderstand me. Look, you, what’s your name again?” Mia stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked at you.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,”

“Right, Y/n, you could play chaser. You’d even be a decent one with a bit of work. But that’d be a damn waste of talent. You’re a natural seeker. I’m not upset with you for catching the wrong ball, I’m upset you weren’t over in my section trying to catch the snitch in the first place. Look at that lot over there, they still think it’s somewhere over the stands.” Mia stepped next to you and turned, gestured to the group of seeker hopefuls flying in circles near the Ravenclaw seats.

“Oh,” You breathed out, following her hand to look at the large group. They were squinting towards the stands and swooping low at whatever they thought they had spotted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the snitch had been caught on the other side of the pitch and that Mia wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore.

“I’ve had a lot of practice spotting this ball,” Mia said, tapping the snitch trapped in your hand. “I was able to see it within about a minute of it being released, and have been watching it since. None of them saw it when it was on their side of the field, but you saw it instantly- even when you were focused on something else. That is a talent Y/n. Why didn’t you try out for seeker in the first place?”

“I didn’t know how to practice for it, and that-. It wasn’t like any of the other positions I have ever played,” You muttered, trying to cover your insecurity with a nonchalant shrug. It seemed like the position that required the most innate ability, and as a muggleborn you didn’t think you had any.

Mia nodded slowly looking at you. “Right,” she said, turning and mounting her broom, “I wanna run you through some drills. Come on.”

You blinked at the woman as she hovered in front of you. Your eyes darting between Mia and the object still clutched tightly in your hand. Where were you supposed to put it? Were you supposed to let it go?

You brought your palm up so it was level with your eyes and opened your hand, half expecting the snitch to fly away. It didn’t. It’s wings slowly unfurled and it waved docilely at you. Like an old friend.

“What’re you waiting for?” Mia called down at you.

“It won’t fly away!” You called back, looking up at the woman, who rolled her eyes indulgently.

“Of course not, it’s yours. You caught it, and you can watch it like some love-struck puppy later- stash it in your pocket and come on!”

***

You were having a fucking blast, even though you had no idea what you were in for when you joined the seeker group. Every year when you watched tryouts, you never payed attention to what they had to do, as you never thought you would have to do it. Even without the advantage, you were killing it.

You had been separated into pairs, just like the chasers were, but Mia had enchanted clear balls (the size of tennis balls) to randomly fly through the air. The balls were given a 5 second head start before you and your partner were allowed to race to catch it. Now this was familiar, the jostling of arms while racing after a ball and trying to prevent someone else from getting to it before you. Only once out of five rounds did your opponent get to the ball before you, but really, that elbow to your ribs was a red card if you’d ever seen one.

Then everyone took turns hovering in the air as Mia took ten of the enchanted balls and flicked them up haphazardly one by one every five seconds. The goal was to catch as many of them as you could before they hit the ground, even as they were sent up in different directions and some much higher in the air than others. You didn’t get all of them, but the seven you saved still seemed to impress the other seeker candidates who didn’t scowl. The second highest number saved was six, but that girl still congratulated you as you got off your broom, since “those last few of them went way further out than they did for me- and you were an inch away from that eighth one!”

You nodded, smiling at her, though you were probably more embarrassed than she realized about that eighth one. That one had been sent towards the far side of the field, where you looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes. You had been placed perfectly to catch the ball as it started falling from it’s apex, but in the moment your hand faltered, and it brushed by your hand instead. You cursed and considered going after it, but then you flew back to where Mia had already released one of the last two on the other side of the field.

“Alright, for our last drill, we’re going to try to catch a real snitch again,” Mia said, pulling another golden ball out from inside her robes and holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. Its wings sprung out and flapped wildly, unlike the slow waving of the one in your pocket.

Everything in you wanted to catch the little golden ball. To tame it like you had the other one. For it to sit calmly in your hand and wave hello like an old friend.

“Isn’t the other one still out there?” The same girl asked, her head tilting to the side.

“It’s been taken care of,” Mia smirked and shook her head, sending a little glance in your direction. The girl stared at her wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but Mia again cut her off with a stern glare. ”As I was saying, the first of you to catch it gets to keep it and also gets a boost to the points on their scorecard. Now line up,”

You all flew low on the pitch, forming a circle with Mia and the snitch at its center. Your eyes never left the frantically flapping little ball as you waited for her whistle to blow. There was no way it was going to escape you and if you got to show off for the would be chasers watching you near the posts, that was fine with you too.

***

“Congratulations Y/n! There’s no way you won’t get picked to be seeker,” the girl said, after Mia released you, promising that the results of the tryouts would be posted next week.

“Oh, um thanks-...” You said trailing off towards the end, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t know her name.

“Oh, sorry. You missed introductions at the beginning. I’m Savannah, from two years above you.” Savannah grinned at you, a bit ruefully. “You know, I thought this was going to be my year to nail the seeker position. But with you on the team, there’s no WAY we’re gonna lose to Slytherin. And Lloyd can stop looking so smug about the cup win last year.”

“The only reason they were better is because they had Amy and Sydney scoring. They won despite her and her stupid tactics. If Slytherin actually got a decent seeker then we’d be in trouble,” Lindsey said, throwing her arm over your shoulder and stepping to walk between you and Savannah.

“Carli’s decent, just distracted I think. She had NEWTS along with scouters and stuff,” you muttered, a bit defensively. You know you weren’t supposed to like the Slytherins- house competition and all that- but Carli’s strategy was pretty impressive. The recruiters certainly seemed to think so, you heard rumors that the recruiters from the Wasps and Arrows had a bidding war before the Harpies showed interest.

“Pshh it was just the Harpies recruiter. Even if they have Potter, she’d still probably tank their win streak. At least that’d help my team,” Lindsey snorted, shaking her head.

Your eyebrows furrowed. The Harpies were the second oldest team in the league, and since they recruited Ginny they had been on a tear taking down the Cannons and the Magpies in the final games of the European cup three years running. You thought Carli’s strategy would fit nicely in their ranks.

“I’m pretty sure there were Wasps recruiters and Magpies guys here too,” Savannah said to Lindsey. You noticed her eyes glanced towards Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder as she smiled widely. Lindsey dramatically rolled her eyes.

“Which team is yours?” You asked softly, leaning your head on Lindsey's shoulder as you trudged towards the locker room, ignoring Savannah.

“The cannons of course,” Lindsey said confidently. Savannah seemed to be hiding a smirk, and waved goodbye at you as she headed into the locker room.

“They’re pretty alright, but Ronaldo is a little too cocky for me. Sinclare and Potter together are a lethal combo for the Harpies and with Angerer in goal they’re like unstoppable,” You hummed thoughtfully. You also liked that the Harpies were an all female team.

“Ugh, you sound like Emily,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “She and Sam are giant Magpies supporters.”

“I mean the Magpies have a 75% score rate while the Cannons are only at a 60. And Messi catches the snitch within the first hour 80% of the time, while Ronaldo’s catches take about 85 minutes on average,” you rattled off. So maybe you were a little too into statistics. At least your dad never had to worry about your math skills.

“No way, they’re super into team stats too! Maybe you can help me convince Emily and Sam that the Cannons are the best team!”

“But Emily and Sam, whoever they are, are right. The stats don’t lie,” You said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, Emily is my friend in Slytherin and Sam‘s in Hufflepuff. I’ll introduce you later.” Lindsey said waving a hand in the air. “Anyway, the Magpies may have Messi, but the Cannons have heart! And isn’t that what really matters to make a good team great?”

You paused, pulling Lindsey to a stop beside you. “I know they don’t teach math here, but Statistics beat heart any day.”

Lindsey laughed and shoved you playfully to the side. “You haven’t even met them and already you’re ganging up on me.”

“I’m just stating facts. The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw cause I just love random factoids so much,” you smirked, tucking yourself back under her outstretched arm (it was just so warm and it made you feel… safe).

“Well, I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor. It's way better to have you as a teammate than competition Space captain. Now let’s go- if we hurry we can probably get to the library to work on that potions essay before curfew.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

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zorkaya-moved · 2 years ago

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(For our AU :3c)

　He remembers a time she teased him about his delicate heart—and how easily he fell for her flatteries and flustered over her innuendoes.

　It got him thinking, even at such a random time as was this; their bodies leaning against each other in the couch of her little home, an arm wrapped over her shoulders to keep her close. He peeked over to her face, and his gaze softened instantly, even as he broke the silence to speak.

　"You know... As good a teacher as you were then, I don't think I ever really learned to steel my heart." There was a pause then, as he carefully thought his words. "... I did end up caring greatly for you, after all. Eough to fall in love, even." Perhaps it had been a silly mistake, to bond with his very own enemy, but he had little regrets about it.

@narvvhal

Villains will die at the end of the tale’s journey, it was the ending that was destine for those who lost. The survival ends when the death’s teeth gnaw at your leg, Zarina knew it all too well. However, she expected to die alone somewhere in the forest, possibly losing the last bits of strength and being eaten by animals. Or, if her heart would allow, she would sit back on that rocking chair near the fireplace and let her last breathe on her own only for her brother to find her passed away in the next two weeks. Ah, it would’ve been such an awful scene, wouldn’t it be? But she didn’t expect this development. The return of the sunshine’s warmth before the frigid hands of her old friend Death would embrace her to put a spell of eternal sleep on her.

The young man who sits by her side was the only one who reached out, determined in his steady pace and refusing to forget the image of a woman shattered and desperate to reach her goal. How pathetic was she to actually step away from her plans at the end? Let the Traveler go and step forth to protect the hero. A villain isn’t supposed to do that, but she thought of how useless and pointless all others things would be. The scream of a ghost echoing in her head, the appearances of those who were long lost. Her parents, her youngest brother, her team. Then, Victor’s heart shattering cry for his older sister to come back.

Now, it was all done and gone. There are only three days left and she never expected the man of vigor and bloodlust to remain and find her. The shine of blue eyes, the familiar smirk, the playful nature, the way he spoke and the way he looked at her. Their last meeting when they still laid bare together side by side, strangely intimate and all too true in that one last night. Who would’ve expected this ginger haired fool of a young man to become so important? It was all pleasure, no strings... in the beginning. Then, he started to understand her, accept this devilry she embodied, and still remain after the end of it all, wishing to pursue the next chapter before epilogue would come to claim the last remaining of a deathly winter.

His warmth melts her apathy, she leans against him while watching the sun set as they would speak of things both big and small. He knows the time is short, but this moment of comfort was everything they didn’t have before. Zarina expected Ayaks to walk away when he would hear of the destined end for her, but he stayed. He stayed because he chose to stay. With her. Because he wanted it. It destroyed her, shattered the years upon years of never-ending pain and isolation, her frigid heart would bleed through her tears when he would hold her close and say her name. It was why this moment of calm was necessary, she cried her eyes out to him before in that damned kitchen and now they were together. For as long as the time will let them.

There were no happy endings for villains, but Sokolova Zarina thought that... being by his side was the best ending she could’ve gotten in this situation, in this life, in this era. With that, she would press just a bit closer to him when he would begin the sentence, reminiscing of their passionate and playful past where her teases were merciless as her sword. Tartaglia then was reacting so cutely to her words, her actions, her presence. She always knew what he felt, what he found attractive, what would make him blush. It was fun, it was always fun and it brought life back into her in a twisted manner. Unlike now, now it was a more fulfilling and sweet sensation without the tragedy of immediately separation on the next morning.

Silence would weigh heavily on them both after the words of love would escape him again. Her body tensing in his hold, unable to escape as golden eyes would open wider from shock and lips would press against each other. Fall in love. He says it so earnestly, she cannot hear any lie in those words. Ayaks was not one to tell lies, he wasn’t one to manipulate others and she knew just how essential this moment was for them both. Her heart would skip a beat at those intimate and true words, the warmth of them making the blood rush to her cheeks as she would move her legs just a bit, trying to get the sense of tension and shock out of her body. No, it wasn’t anything bad. This warmth that was spilling over, her face growing warmer as her lips would tremble and she would then turn her body to hide her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping her hands around him so he won’t see the pathetic self she’s showing, this vulnerability and this weakness of hers.

Her [dream] was right here, her most intimate and most beloved [dream] was holding her close and speaking such words to her. He was real, this wasn’t a dream, he truly remained and spoke to her in this way. No matter the hardships, the evil, the shattered self, the time passing by faster than she’d ever wish for it.

Zarina, for the first time, wanted to have more time. Just a bit more, she wanted to live, she wanted to be with him, she wanted to be loved and she wanted to stay. This warmth, this love, this strength, this everything. Ayaks gave her everything she ever dreamed of in a simple choice and in a simple word.

“Don’t look at me,” her voice came out softer than ever, it was far more feminine and quieter than her usually commanding voice was. This tenderness melted the ice queen’s heart, exposing the self that she expected to be long gone, buried and frozen beneath years of despair and snow. A maiden who wished for a family and for love. In the arms of a warrior, she would return to the self before the tragedy struck. Ayaks’ words, scent, warmth ― it all made her heart race and head feel dizzy. More of him, she wished for more and more and more of those words, touch, presence. “I wanted to cut away this feeling, to destroy it because there was no future, but... I want to stay with you, I love you. I love you, Ayaks.”

Please, hold me tight and don’t let go until the very last moment.

At that moment, she would ease away and let go, finally letting him witness her face. The blue, the trembling lips, the bashful look. It was this intimacy in the moment of last days that would allow him to witness this shyness. Her longing is evident in the way she looks at him, golden eyes full of love and yearning and even anxiety over him disappearing right here and now.

“Don’t let me go. Please, say that you’ll stay?” It was a plea, a meek and weak plea to hear it in words. “Say it again, Ayaks. Say that you love me.” Fall in love. She, too, was in love with him. She had fallen and there was no escape. If he did not appear, Zarina knew she would’ve been successful in destroying this love with her last breathe, but now? There was no reason to hold back, to pretend, to separate. “Hold me close. My heart, my body, my soul... Everything that I am, I’ll devote it to you.” If not for the tragedy, she would’ve done so sooner, but her goal was more important. Now that there was nothing standing between them? She wished to give him everything without leaving even a speck of dust behind. “Kiss me?” It wasn’t an order, it wasn’t how it was usually. It was a plea once again.

Before it was too late.

#NAANS IM CRYINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG #narvvhal #☽ ⋮ tartaglia ⌟ shaped to be weapons，are we not alike: beasts in human skin. ⋮ narvvhal.#❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.#❅ 𝐕. GENSHIN IMPACT ⤻ defeated by the enemy you’re still standing，you’ll bury them and tear them apart. ❞#my brain going: ok but if ayaks kisses her; it gets a bit more desperate and a bit more passionate and a bit more emotional #maybe this is how they'll stay off their first night together on the countdown #ANYWAYS IM CRYING #long post //

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myrwritesfootie · 4 years ago

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Like The Old Days - Chapter One - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount x Original Female Character

Words: 819

Disclaimer: I am not connected to Mason Mount or anyone else mentioned in this writing.

May 5th, 2021. London, United Kingdom.

It was crazy to realize how I had gotten here. Crazy was probably the perfect word for it because if you had told me that I would be standing on the side of the pitch in a crazy Stamford Bridge after Chelsea had won their semi-final… I would’ve laughed at you. At that moment I would’ve told you that there’s no way I would study to become a reporter. A sportsreporter to be exact.

After my vocational school, I had decided to continue studying after all while I had been so vocal about not wanting to do so anymore. But I wanted to combine the thing I liked most - writing - with my passion which was sports. Simply because one person had been there to support me in that decision. He had told me to follow my dreams and work hard for it. So the best journalism education was my next destination, but to get there I was going to have to make it through my vocational school first.

I graduated two years later at the age of twenty at the vocational school but it had been pretty tricky, simply because of the fact that in those two years the person who had been the biggest rock in my life had to move away and the long distance relationship thing was not for me at all. I needed to have him close to me and that was definitely not happening.

I continued my higher education in journalism and now near the end of my second year and at the beginning of my internship abroad for a sports channel in London. And that was how I had ended up on the side of the pitch of Stamford Bridge. It had been a strange occurance because I knew very well that there was a chance to bump into familiar faces here. A place where I had never been before, but still a place with a lot of history in my past.

My focus had been terrible throughout the last minutes of the game, knowing very well that due to the goal I was definitely going to be facing my past. He didn’t even know that I had gotten into this internship since we lost contact a few years ago.

“Iris, focus. Where the hell are you with your mind? The whistle went off a few minutes ago.”

My hazel eyes focused on the man standing next to me. Luke was an interesting guy. He was a very direct one, which I appreciated. It was something I needed, probably a Dutch thing since apparently everyone knew I was one due to my own directness. But at the same time… He has this stare where you just didn’t know what he was going to say. A stare that made me uncomfortable and one that I was facing right now.

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking how I never thought I would end up here. Not important.” I quickly added the two words at the sight of Luke’s raised eyebrows.

“Well, think about that later. Tuchel is gonna be here soon. I hope to get interviews with Werner and Mount as well, maybe Zidane as well.”

And there was his name… I simply nodded in agreement, grasping my phone better so I could use it to record Luke doing his interview so I could learn from it later.

“I’m going to be doing the talking but after the interviews I want to hear from you what the differences are between doing an actual interview and doing the practice ones at the office.”

I nodded once more, not saying a word since Thomas Tuchel was indeed walking in our direction for the first interview of the night. My focus was on the two men in front of me, taking in everything that Luke was asking the coach. The way Tuchel sometimes seemed to be annoyed, probably because he was asked the same question over and over again by reporters. If I had learned something by now, it was that asking original questions when you were the third or fourth reporter in a row was terribly hard. You needed the quotes of the answers on your own documentation but at the same time you didn’t want to be asking the same questions.

It was the moment that Luke had gotten the last answer from Tuchel and he was preparing to walk away, that I pressed the stop button of the video I had made. Before I could look at the result of the interview, a voice made me turn into stone it seemed. And it had only taken two sentences to cause it.

“Iris? Is that you?”

Luke turned around at the mention of my name by someone who wasn’t him. No one else here knew my name. The man raised an eyebrow at me and I quickly shook my head before turning to face him.

“Mason.”

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount #like the old days #50

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ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa · 2 years ago

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DRS: Mukuro Ikusaba

well, I hoped you would answer that question so we're off to a great start

ok, so her events really mirror the ones of real Junko, although we skipped Aoi for some reason and started with Mahiru, both start by complimenting on her skill, but where Junko wanted Mahiru to do a professional shoot of her later, Mukuro complained about magazines [ik they can come in semi-random order now, there's a loose timeline]

and said she prefers Mahiru's authentic photos over posed and edited ones

Mukuro can't guess what Akane is "saying" like Junko, so this time Tenko understands since someone has to, and then changes the subject to hate on men unprompted

I wish that were me

she tells Yasuhiro not to call her Junkie while Junko just rolled with it, doesn't want to hear her fortune all the same, but this time he tells her anyway

Not only does she convince Togami to let their whole class in on his private beach, but also makes sure he'll participate as well. And she's the first one I'm seeing talking about fans bothering ultimates

[after a two-week-long break] ok, so I stopped updating this nearing the end of Mukuro's events and well, I am actually done with her route, it was just way less interesting than Junko's, one right after the other it was a show of what she's lacking in comparison, Junko is a hurricane and I wanted to be mad

when in a flashback she calls Mukuro dull, but next to each other that how it looks like, we have this very emotional extrovert and an introvert with simple consistent ideals and worries

this is the same Mukuro we see at the beginning of THH and in the IF scenario, she's critical of magazines, complains about all the fakeness, acts as if she had an impostor syndrome (except she is the impostor), cares deeply for her sister, would do anything for her

it's really disappointing, because it looks like she wants to find her own self but in the end it all comes back to Junko, she says she does in "My future" bit, but it's betraying Junko like in the IF because she loves her. And Junko hasn't thought of her once in her events

I was thinking of following this with Monaca's events since apparently she knew Mukuro was pretending, but WoH make me uncomfortable so I'm going to save it for later, they can ruin only 1 day for me

overall, Mukuro's events are a flop, it was awkward with few exceptions (she actually impressed me in the event with Togami)

First posted on December 12-27, 2021 (twitter) Detailed notes below:

Introduction: "The real question is... which Junko am I? The Ultimate Fashionista? Or maybe..."

1st event: Mahiru Koizumi

starts with a compliment

prefers Mahiru's photographs over magazine shots, those are "edited to hell and back"

"so that's my expression in front of everyone", "even I can make a face like that"

posed photos don't feel like me, yours are authentic

2nd event: Akane Owari & Tenko Chabashira

Mukuro can't understand Akane with her mouth full like Junko did. Tenko does.

Tenko brings up negative stereotypes about fashionistas out of the blue? To hate on men?

"you take notes obsessively, Junko"

3rd event: (With Swimsuits)

Junko isn't at the camp :( they were separated before, but it's been a while so now she's worried about Junko, "I'd gotten used to being together again"

true goal?

"a cheerful person like you mumbling to herself with a frown?"

"this is far from despair", so she thinks she should be the ult despair Junko

4th event:

Yasuhiro had a vision

"it's a violation of privacy if you read my future without permission"

glossy black hair and some rad make up is the key to her success, huh?

5th event:

This time not even Mikan looks happy, the 3 of them are just awkward

Mukuro tells Toko they don't have bad blood, which would be the opposite of the real Junko

"ugh, you two are so negative..."

opposites attract (tokomaru & bandaid)

6th event:

"You've been tailing me all day", "Are you a hardcore fan?", Monaca: "Not quite"

she knows

"even if you're a child, I'll show no mercy"

she caught the bug for Gonta, Monaca gets away

7th event:

Mukuro gets embarrassed by Ibuki's compliment, rather than agree with Ibuki on wanting to be stronger she asks if she isn't fine the way she is (she already has good stamina)

Potential of Talent: "But which Talent?", "This isn't my real identity"

-Regardless of which talent, it's important to me. (memory of Junko)

"dull older sister"

"if I *did* wanna do something, it wouldn't be anything so obvious"

"I'll cooperate with whatever she pleases. I'm the only one who understands her."

-This may be unrelated to talent, but... (Hajime)

try to find something for myself (cosmetics), "not for work"

"I wanted to drop this personality after graduating anyway"

Hajime's understanding, some things are easier to say to strangers

-I am not that interested in my potential... (Jataro Kemuri)

infodumps at her about luck unprompted

it's easier for him to be hated

"I turned off my brain and listened to Jataro"

8th event:

WoH bullied Mondo for not letting them operate a rollercoaster on their own, but she praised him

lose the pompadour? over his dead body

"I'd go for a more serious look if I could"

9th event: look Makoto's route

10th event:

surprised to see Togami without Toko around

bullying him, "you're bad with girls"

I'm not popular either

aristocrats.

private beach is the only chance for famous ultimates to relax by the ocean

she convinces him to participate!

"it took me so long but this is what I really want" (having fun with everyone)

11th event:

Aoi noticed her strap slipping herself

it's mobility over fashion for her, meanwhile "Junko" just got used to revealing clothes, "with a bit of courage and a lot of time you can get used to anything"

Summer Festival: Run a stall - make and sell trinkets "I've got nimble fingers"

Y'know, Leon, I have men's trinkets too (not half bad, he'd like to make some too, bought it)

I have some Japanese-style trinkets, Hiyoko (no match for artisan masters... but she bought a hairpin)

Tsumugi, I have your supporter color! (oh, an idol she supports. She just had to buy one)

Campfire: "I don't like getting teary-eyed, but I'm going to miss it"

-Ryoma! You look like you're about to cry!

he doesn't deny it, just don't stare

she hides her feelings pretty well, but it's obvious she cares about her classmates

"Ryoma and I reminisced together"

-You're really eating your heart out, Akane! (Mukuro decides to help in the kitchen because of Akane)

-Yasuhiro, tell my fortune

Will my family's dream be realized? (answer off-screen)

My Future...

Monokuma dramatically reveals he knows she's Mukuro

"If she wants me to kill them, they're as good as dead"

"What do you suppose would happen if I betrayed Junko?" (because I love her)

End: "Hey, Junko. I found my own hope."

#mukuro ikusaba #danganronpa #summer camp events

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calyxaomphalos · 2 years ago

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In April 2022, I did Camp NaNoWriMo and wrote a little over 50k words, but did not reach the end of my story. A few months later for the July Camp NaNo event, I wrote another 10k+ more. I'm ALMOST done.

I posted some photos near the beginning of April explaining the theory behind my process. I used the solo RPG Over the Mountain to generate semi-random writing prompts. The plan was to write four game encounters per day of writing. That turned into "or 1700 words, whichever came first," which is why by the end of April's writing event and having reached the goal of 50k words, I was still working on scenes from the 24th.

Wrestling with tumblr's drafts and queue/schedule may prove to be my undoing, but if you're seeing this, then I've managed to get it all in. If I'm smart, I'll be tagging all these posts with the novel's title, the game's name, and maybe a few other tags like 'writeblr' and 'nanowrimo'.

I'm debating how to format posts with regard to how much shows up before the 'keep reading' cut, and what exactly that'll be. I figure the majority of the chapters will be under the cut. Things above the cut may include the meta information about the dice rolling and the naming/describing of the first encounters with the various locations and neighbors.

The scene below doesn't involve rolling any dice. It's more about describing the setting and a bit about 'my' backstory. I also made this 'cover' for the novel, The Ghosts of Windy Ridge.

It's just after midnight on the 31st of March and I've gotten myself into the rental unit in Windy Ridge after a long drive. I had a few things to unpack from my car, but not a whole lot. I'm traveling light. The pictures promised a homey cabin with a view of the scenic downtown. I guess I'll find out about the view in the morning. The daylight might improve the looks inside here, too.

Just inside the door to the right is the kitchenette, not much more than a sink, a cooktop and a small refrigerator. The small bit of countertop has an outlet in the wall behind it, but no appliance there, as I'd requested. This is where I set up my little espresso maker. It's a morning ritual I can't do without. I'm sure some folks think that bringing an espresso maker disqualifies me as traveling light, but I haven't brought a whole lot more with me, really.

Around the corner against the next wall is a small dining table and two chairs. I've got my laptop here on the seat further from the kitchen area. I figure that when I eat at the table, I'll do it sitting the other seat. Behind me in the wall opposite the kitchen is the bathroom door. One of the best things about this place is the tub, a great old-fashioned claw foot.

On the other side of the cabin, there's a big sofa on the left when coming in the front door, then a fireplace along the wall opposite the dining table. A low coffee table sits between the sofa and two overstuffed chairs. Behind those chairs is the continuation of the wall of the bathroom, with a second door. This leads to a very tiny bedroom, not much larger than the bed itself.

Besides my coffee maker and laptop, I've got a suitcase of clothes, a toiletries kit, and a small bookbag with some notebooks and a handful of Tarot decks. I'm not entirely sure how Tarot will be received by the people of Windy Ridge. But then again, Mo lived here, so they can't be all bad.

I probably need to say a few words about Mo. Maurice Forrester. We met not long after I'd gotten out of my BA program and into a gig as a layout artist for a magazine, using cutting edge computer technology of the day. I'm talking late 1980s, so electronic graphic design was a brand new field.

Mo was doing some work with a radical new type of graphics software, which is how we met, but what got us into trouble was that we both had an interest in fine art painting. That sounds innocent enough, but between us, we had enough knowledge and skill to pull off a couple forgeries. There was a particular gallery owner on the coast of Big Sur who Mo knew. I never had direct dealings with the man, but I produced a couple paintings at Mo's direction which resulted in him being able to cut me a check for a couple hundred thousand. Back then that was some real money.

A lot of life got in the way between then and now. Mo passed away a few years ago, and that's a problem. A strange voicemail I'd gotten a few weeks back left me very unsettled. I couldn't make out all of the words. Between a bad connection and a thick accent, about all I could pick out was "painting," "fake," and an overall threatening tone. The guy has an advantage over me if he knows who I am, as I have no idea who he is. Mo kept that from me. I've been trying to use Tarot to reach him with no luck. All I kept getting was a message to come here, to Windy Ridge.

#the ghosts of windy ridge #writeblr #nanowrimo #over the mountain

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swan-of-sunrise · 4 years ago

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Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

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A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #edwin jarvis #dum dum dugan #pinky pinkerton #happy sam sawyer #the howling commandos #michael carter #dottie underwood #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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notnctu · 4 years ago

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cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !! details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him. warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness ; @lovelycharm05 ; @watermelonxes ; @jaehyunsjasmine ; @mjlkau <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking.

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic.

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

#nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct #renjun #renjun scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #huang renjun #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream imagines #huang renjun scenarios #7days

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mammonshuman92 · 4 years ago

Text

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right?

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker?

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more.

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.”

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad.

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me #mammon x mc

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