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thestruidora · 3 years ago

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Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: Did y'all miss me? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't.

If anyone is interested in getting to know the magical music genre called forró, I chose a couple of classics that I feel like definitively played on the reader's first and only June Party: O Xote das Meninas Xote Dos Milagres Cintura Fina Morena Tropicana

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661, @bianaguipa, @deezy-061 Thank you so much for your guy’s support!

For those who missed it: Chapter One >> Language Barrier Chapter Two >> Bilingual Chapter Three >> Miscommunication

Chapter Four

Gibberish

She can still remember the laughter. The giggling that came from the back of her throat as she threw her head back, a smile full of teeth spread through her lips. The exhilaration of being with her friends, dancing her heart out.

It was her favorite time of the year. The sounds of the June Party moving on her feet. The rhythmic vibrations of the music's beat coursing through her. The songs, the speaking, the dancing: all at once ringing in her ears. One of her very first alcoholic drinks running through her veins along with all the spinning making her dizzy.

She was the happiest she’s ever been.

Every year her older cousins would travel to the countryside of Bahia's state, where the June festivities were the most elaborate. Her mom, so controlling, so protective, would never let her go. But on the year of her 14th birthday, she begged a little more strongly, pleaded a little more fervently, and now there she was.

It was so much more than she could ever have imagined. Bigger, louder, an explosion of newness to her senses. A big contrast to her secluded life in the city, because everybody knows that being a woman is hard, but being an Omega is harder.

Her mom was mated only a few hours after presenting, a few hours into her first heat, to a man she barely knew and definitely did not love. But still, she was one of the lucky ones. She could have been robbed, kidnapped and trafficked. Because Omegas are rare and the demand is huge, so presenting as one was as good as a death sentence.

But she was still young, she still got time.

And now, finally outside of her mom's vigilant eyes, with her girlfriends dancing by her side and the pulse of the *forró guiding her body she could allow herself to be carefree.

“Rapaz, que secura!” Lana screamed, complaining about the heat.

“É, tá um calor desgraçado.” Gabriela agreed, fanning herself with her hands, droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead and into her exposed cleavage.

Y/N simply laughed at her friends, they were a couple years older than her, but not necessarily more mature. Of course it was hot, they’ve been dancing for a long time, and even in the open space with the night air hanging over them, the place was so crowded that they would barely move while trying to get to the open bar.

She watched as the girls got their beverages, gobbling them down as if they were the first drinks they had in ages. But suddenly, the permanent smile that had been plastered on her face throughout the night died, something curious shifting inside of her. It was a unique feeling, one she never experienced before. It had started as a tightness in her lower abdomen, but it was growing into a sharp pain.

“Você tá bem?” Lana asked if she was ok, noticing the grimace in her features.

She tried to shake her head yes, but it came out the exact opposite as she doubled down on herself, her hands pressing on her stomach as she frowned, the pain becoming unbearable. Were these cramps? Was she about to get her period in the middle of this party?

But no, it wasn’t that. Somehow in the back of her mind, she knew this was different. She had begun to sweat, but not from the crowd or the dancing, there was this intense hotness forming within her.

She noticed a couple of men standing on the edges of the party space, in the shadows, almost camouflaged. Their eyes were predatory, fixated on her, they shined with a sinister glow, reflecting the flickering red light of the bonfire. Her friends called to her, guiding her to walk across to one of the tables, helping her sit down. When she looked again, the men were gone. Was she going mad?

“A gente vai ver se encontra Ibuprofeno, fica aí.” Gabriela said this time, or was it Lana again? They left, said something about looking for painkillers, she wasn’t paying attention, the pain was too much and so were the smells. All of the sudden, she felt like she could smell every single thing and every single one in the whole place.

She could smell the perfume, and the liquor, the sweet and the savory foods, altogether but also individually, it was overwhelming. She could smell the people, not their body wash or their shampoo, but their true scents. Some were warm and some were cold, some too strong and others too bland. And then there were two that were getting closer, too close, and these stung in her nostrils. Her vision had gone blurry and she couldn’t tell much of what was happening around her at that point, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

Shaking from the pain, shivering even though she was burning up, she looked up just fast enough to get a look at the two men from before, standing right behind her. One of them covered her eyes with his hand and the other covered her mouth. A muffled scream and a couple of weak punches were all she could do before they pulled her up from her chair, completely immobilizing her.

She trashed and struggled about, but to no avail. They were big and strong and she was small and frail.

“Shhh, Omega.” One of them whispered in her ear, and as if under a spell, she did just what was asked of her, her free will hushed. Something about his voice, and their touch, turned the pang in between her legs into a tingle.

And that’s when she knew: she had presented and this was her first heat.

They dragged her pliable body into the woods of the rural countryside, the sway of the forró getting left behind, her mother’s voice playing on a loop inside her head, “Be careful”, she always said.

Everything went dark, she could only make out flashes of information. The roughness of their hands and the graveness of their voices as they spoke to each other, laughing to themselves about how much she was worth, the way they sniffed at her neck, exhaling with satisfaction.

At some point, the grass of the forest turned into asphalt underneath her feet, and she was blindfolded and tied up, her lips taped as she was thrown into the back of a car. She could only whimper, her heat burning inside of her.

Shifting in and out of conciseness, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, couldn’t differentiate hours from days anymore. From time to time she would feel the prick of a needle going into her arm, and then it was all darkness again. She remembered being cold, shivering about as more rough hands grabbed at her. Were these the same ones from before or no? Had Lana or Gabriela reported her missing? Was anyone coming for her?

Eventually, it all stopped.

There was a cushiony softness below her, a thin sheet of fabric above her. When Y/N carefully tried to open her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was greeted by light. Not the warm sunshine that often peeked through the windows of her bedroom in the mornings, but a cold, harsh light that came from a singular light bulb attached to the ceiling.

No longer tied or muzzled, she slowed sat up in the single bed, looking around. There was nothing covering her figure but the bedding, not even underwear. She found herself in a tiny room: four concrete white walls, a small barred window and a closed door.

Her heat was over, she could feel it, no more fire burning in her loins. She disentangled herself from the bed sheet, getting up too quickly, ignoring her nakedness and the dizziness, heading straight for the door. It was locked, of course.

Finally feeling sober enough to allow the rage to bubble up inside, she began to furiously bang on the door with clenched fists, kicking it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Hey!” A male voice boomed just outside, appearing suddenly, as if he was already waiting right there. “Yapma!” He hit the metal of the door, hard, making it shake slightly.

She retreated, startled, analyzing the situation. She had no idea what he had said, but gathering from the brutality with which it was uttered, it couldn't have been good. She didn't even know where she'd been taken, but she had an idea why.

More male voices were spoken on the other side of the wall, in that language she did not know. Something electronic beeped, then it let out a subtle ping sound, and just like that the door was sprung open. Two men walked in, the first thing she noticed was the gun one of them was carrying, while the other came in with a paper file in his hands. She backed away into the corner of the room, trying to cover her exposed chest and genitals with her hands, their big Alpha bodies taking over the space, making her feel even more intimidated.

“Nasıl hissediyorsun?” The one with the file said to her, his words sounding like a reserved recording to her brain. He was older, maybe in his late forties, greying hair at the top of his head, a light blue suit framing his ample shoulders.

When she didn’t answer, simply stood there against the wall, trying to control her labored breathing and the sheer fear that had taken over her body, causing even her inner organs to shake, he gave her a once over, opening the file and scanning through whatever was written there.

“Brazil, huh?” He arched one of his brows. “Can you understand me now?” He asked her, deliberately enunciating every word.

Y/N swallowed the sigh that was trying to leave her lips, staring at the gun, wide-eyed.

“Dumb bitch.” The man in the suit murmured to himself, snapping a finger in her face, getting her attention. “You’ve been on sedatives for a long time, little one. How are you feeling?” He said it as slow as he could, as if speaking to an animal. “Do you got a tummy-ache or a headache?” He rubbed his belly while saying ‘tummy’ and touched his temples while saying ‘head’.

She only frowned at him, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. He scoffed, leaning forward, letting his light-colored eyes roam over the valley of her breasts.

“Or maybe you’re just cranky cause you didn’t get no Alpha dick inside that tight little pussy yet.” Before he could finish his words, she was already propelling the whole weight of her body into her closed fist as she punched him in the face, fear turning into fury.

“Oh!” He growled, covering his bleeding nose, quickly walking away from her, face contorted in pain. “Shoot her!” He yelled at the other man, who promptly pointed his gun at her.

“Não!” She shouted out, closing her eyes and attempting to protect her face with her hands. A blunt sound echoed in the room and she felt something sharp go into her leg. Before she had enough time to come to the conclusion that it was tranquilizer dart, her eyes rolled back into their sockets and blackness welcomed her once again.

Five years had passed with her locked in that place, slowly forgetting where her mom’s face wrinkled the most when she was angry, or the exact shade of her eyes, the particular timbre of her voice. Y/N was slowly going mad, losing all hope of ever being rescued by the hero that always came to her in her dreams.

She was fourteen when she was taken, highly prized for her young age and virginity. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder many times, but she fought like an Alpha. Biting, roaring at anyone that came too close. Some of the men even began to doubt she was a real Omega, but ever so often her heat came and it reminded them. Emir, the big boss of the operation, sometimes would come to her doorstep during those times, tap at door and use his Alpha voice, laughing when she had to bit her own lips to control the moans his presence was causing.

But in the end, she wasn’t genetically compatible with anyone, and even those that wanted her for her fierceness were disappointed to find that her DNA did not match with theirs. A part of her was happy she had never been sold and probably never would be, just for the simple satisfaction of knowing that her body wouldn’t give those men any profit.

So there she stayed, locked up, imprisoned, hearing the sounds of the other girls crying in their rooms while she got on her tiptoes, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world through her only window, waiting.

It had been a while since she last saw Emir when the door made it’s telltale beep and was opened by him, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

“Hello there, my Latin beauty.” He smiled an evil smile at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind, focused on the redhead woman that was beside him, looking at Y/N with sorrow in her eyes. “See, Widow? I told you my girls are gorgeous, look at her.”

The woman let a displeased noise at his words, coming closer to Y/N, who gave her a distrustful look.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” Emir answered for her.“Oh, and she doesn’t talk.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”Natasha turned to him, her short red locks moving with her.“She’s mute?”

“Nah, she just doesn’t know any English.”

“Oh.” She gave the girl one more pitiful stare, but Y/N felt like she was looking right through her.

Leaving the facility was like a dream and a nightmare all at the same time. While finally being free was wonderful, Y/N knew that such freedom would come at a cost. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t the best at Portuguese, but knew enough of it in order for them to communicate.

Y/N didn’t say much when they gave her a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and guided her out of that God-forsaken place. She didn’t say a word when a dark-haired man tried to take the suitcase from her hands, Natasha said his name was James and that he was only trying to be chivalrous, something about the 1940’s that she didn’t quite understand.

She remained quiet as Natasha tried her best to explain to her that a man’s life was at stake, that Captain America was dying of a terrible rut sickness, and that he was compatible with her and her alone. That yes, she had been bought like cattle, but it was for noble reasons, because Steve Rogers was an honorable man, a hero and his destiny was in her hands.

She kept all of her thoughts to herself as Natasha pulled up a ‘Rut Companion’ contract, stipulating that once Y/N had served her purpose and Mr. Rogers was out of danger and well, she would receive a large sum of money and could walk away from all of this, go anywhere she wanted and do whatever she pleased. Even after signing it, she resigned herself to silence.

And of course, she didn’t say anything when they boarded a jet to the United States, not even a word about the fact that she was actually fluent in English.

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years ago

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A silent plea

Yandere!Kujou Sara x gn!reader

Wordcount:1366

CW:Yandere themes, death and torture mention

Kujou Sara knows her place. It’s always beneath and at Raiden Shogun’s beck and call. Some may think it's humiliating, to dedicate so much time and energy for the tyrant, yet Sara disagrees - Baal may be a cruel goddess, but she is a goddess nonetheless, meant to be praised and obeyed and Sara is nothing but a devoted worshipper, willing to commit any atrocity if it will please her archon.

She doesn't indulge in it, preferring to endure the cruelty of her own hands and telling herself that it is needed for Baal's eternity. All who resist and defy have deserved their fates, no matter how grim and bitter they are. How many rebels did she strike herself? Electro archon’s heart holds no mercy nor pity for her enemies, so Sara’s shouldn’t either. And it did, for a time, allowing Kujou Sara to fight and torture and interrogate, all in the name of her Goddess, until she met you.

It happened on the battlefield. Sara was aiming at someone, all her attention consumed by the distant figure and the tension of the bow in her hands as she heard a rustle of the leaves and then sensed a blade pressing down her jugular.

“Order your men to retreat”, you demanded, adding a bit more pressure. She couldn’t see it but felt a small trail of blood trickling down her neck and staining the clothes. It was an awful and dangerous situation to be in and for the first time in months she experienced fear so clearly and brightly.

“I don’t comply with the requests of traitors”, she kicked you, focusing the electro energy around her body. It was enough to give her time and protect Sara from your weapon, leaving just a shallow cut on her neck.

You gasped then, from pain and shock, eyes wide as you grasped the injured hand, and dropped the weapon. And then it was Sara’s turn to get surprised - you didn’t flee and she couldn’t see your vision. Were you that stupid or desperate? Did you really think that you could defeat her in a fair fight?

Sara took a stance, preparing for a quick victory, which it wasn’t. She had to claw it out, deflecting your blows and kicks - you were like a wild animal back then, feral and forceful, seemingly just a step away from lunging at Sara and biting a chunk of her flesh out. But unlike the beast, you were smart and tricky too, throwing small metal trinkets to redirect her lightning, leaping at her only when you were sure she wouldn't attack. If it wasn’t for her approaching men who knows for how long you would drag out this battle, using lowly tricks and stunts to make up for your obvious disadvantage.

You fled then, pulling out a smoke bomb to create a distraction, and something inside her changed. At first Sara thought it was respect, keeping her up at night and making her return to the place of your “fight”, replaying your moves in her memory again and again. Respect for your resourcefulness and loyalty to your cause, despite the opposite allegiance.

Nevertheless, the dreams, wet and messy and too dishonourable to be said out loud, made her change her perspective - she didn’t respect you, no, she wanted to be at your mercy again, to feel herself helpless and powerless as your figure looms over her vulnerable form.

Those were sick perverted fantasies, not to mention traitorous too. As the loyal servant of Raiden Shogun she couldn’t allow herself to fall victim to the animal urges and sinful lust. Who knows, what if her arrow falters and blade dulls because of the same craving and shameful desire? How can she allow herself to live further after such failure?

That’s why her efforts in capturing and neutralizing rebel camps doubled, despite the slowly rising wave of hesitation inside her.

The early morning greets Kujou Sara with the cold breeze of grey waves and the news she has both dreaded and anticipated. Her men finally located and captured the small insurgent group, hiding among the lush forests of Kannazuka, roughly dragging the rebels back to the Kujou encampment.

“Bring them here”, Sara says to one of the troops after she exits her apartment, her battle regalia already on. The soldier bows and quickly hurries to the furthermost nondescript building - a makeshift cell for all prisoners before they’re sent to the capital.

Sara trails his figure, feeling how her own heart thumps, head aching from the sudden tension and anxiety and she doesn’t know whether she wants to see your face or not. “A moment of truth”, she whispers to herself as one painfully long second is replaced by the other.

Turns out, you are in that group too, as the mentioned soldier leads you out with the other prisoners, your hands tightly cuffed by a long chain. Kujou squints as she looks over all of you, your frame being her main focus. You are tired and dirty, she notes, but also defiant and full of fight, just like that fateful day.

Sara orders her men to lead you to the interrogation room, and put the rest in the cells, she accompanies the soldier, eyeing your form as he tugs on your chains - you don't want to go, it's obvious, but in the end fatigue and simple weakness win and your legs buckle.

You have new bruises, she notes, purple-bluish they stand out in a stark angry contrast against your skin. Maybe her men got handsy, maybe they weren’t careful with transporting you enough - no matter the reason she needs to punish them.

“Out”, Sara says, once you’re tied and secured in one place, defiant eyes burning right through her. The soldier quickly bows before exiting the room and leaving Sara with you alone, and that’s when she feels it again - the wave of longing and carnal desire so strong that she yearns to touch your body no matter how dirty and battered it is.

“Why am I here?”, you ask, voice low and scratchy after days of complete silence, snatching Sara from her thoughts, and by the archons the sound of your voice is enough to awaken something in her, pink dusting her cheeks.

"You don't have a vision", she says instead of answering you, feeling how her heart speeds up from those words alone:"but you still defied Raiden Shogun's eternity and you will be punished accordingly"

A crooked smile makes it to your face, resignation mixing with pure hatred boiling in your eyes. Sara wants to shiver and turn away, hide from your gaze, yet she endures it, not a single muscle betraying her.

"You will be tortured regardless of you knowing anything about resistance plans", you don’t stop smiling, yet your expression grows even more tense. Like a deadman, Sara thinks to herself - she had seen it of course, the face, the resignation, and she doesn’t like it. The mere idea of you suffering and screaming under someone else's hands enough to make her taste a sour bile on her tongue.

"Then why are you telling me all of this?", you raise one brow.

"There’s a way to avoid that. Aid me in my service to Raiden Shogun and your crimes will be forgiven". Sara leans closer to you, her golden eyes transfixed on your face. "Please agree", she wants to say: "It's for your own good".

“I don’t comply with the requests of traitors”, you spit back at her and she jerks away, remembering your bestial nature. If only you were more obedient Sara would worship you like a second deity, her love and devotion to you surpassed only by the reverence she holds towards Baal. She would dress you in silks and kiss every spot on your body, ripping out the most pleasurable and desperate moans out of your lips. She would fall on the knees before you, patiently awaiting your command.

But she can’t - deep down you’re an animal, feral and ungrateful and rabid beasts deserve nothing but death.

“I will come back tomorrow and ask you again. I suggest you take back your words”.

Kujou Sara knows her place. She wishes you knew yours.

#yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere Kujou Sara #Yandere Kujou Sara x reader #Yandere genshin #yandere x reader #Yandere genshin impact #Yandere #Female yandere #Yandere x reader

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an-obsessed-writer · 4 years ago

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Mind Over Matter

Summary: Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. What happens when (Y/N) finds herself meeting him at one of his parties?

(A/N): i think i’ll turn this into a series, but not sure yet! im a whore for zemo rn as everyone is, let me know if you’re interested in reading more <3

Word Count: 2.2k

“(Y/N)!” Wanda plops onto your bed after she runs into the dorm, and smiles sweetly up at you. “Wanna go to a party tonight? Word has it that Zemo is throwing a major bash for the new school year.”

Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. Fortunately, you didn’t live under a rock, just too immersed in your studies to care much about him. You’ve seen him walking on campus before, with his fur coat and maroon mock turtleneck, and you could see why he was such a popular man. It’s known that Europeans always have the best sense of style.

“I’ve already got a major essay to finish for my philosophy class next week, maybe next time?” You frown at your roommate, feigning sadness that you wouldn’t be able to make it, but by the look of her face, she wasn’t going to let you get out of this one.

“You promised you’d attend a party this year! We’re juniors and you’ve been to only a handful. Besides, his parties are super classy, everyone gets all dressed up. It’ll be fun, I swear.” Wanda looks up at you with pleading eyes, and you couldn’t help but think about the opportunity presented.

It was true, you hadn’t been to many parties since college started. Your grades were stellar, your reputation even more so. Studying as a pre-med was no joke, resulting in your non-existent social life, but you honestly didn’t mind it much. You kept your head down because college was expensive enough as it is, you couldn’t afford to get distracted. Closing the laptop on your lap, a sigh escapes your mouth, and Wanda took it as a silent submission for what she had planned.

“Perfect! It’s tonight at his mansion. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to get him wrapped around your finger by the end of the night,” she winked and immediately began rummaging through her closet for the perfect outfit. “I heard the theme was the 20’s, I’ve always loved the flapper girl outfits.” A laugh escaped from Wanda’s lips, and a mischievous smile was displayed on her face.

If there was anyone you trusted at this place, it’d be Wanda Maximoff. Her brother Pietro came as a close second, but she’d been your rock throughout your educational journey. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted her at their parties, but she chose to stay in with you to watch movies and talk about guys on more than one occasion. Coming from Sokovia, Wanda and Zemo talked often because of their love for the Sokovian language, but nothing romantic ever stemmed from their interactions with each other.

Truth be told, you were a pretty girl. This never went unnoticed by the guys around you, leading to a few regretful hookups. Your confidence oozed from your cheeky smile and subtly flirtatious comments when appropriate, but you were adamant on not entering a relationship until school was over. However, you were the realist out of this duo, and you knew for a fact you’d never be able to pull a guy like Helmut Zemo. With his looks and amount of money, he could get the most sought after movie star (which everyone was fairly sure he hooked up with Megan Fox at one point, but that was just a rumor).

“Do you still have your flapper girl costume from Halloween a while ago? I’ve got mine, and I don’t think we have enough time to shop before the party,” Wanda inquired.

“Of course I do, it’s my go to Halloween costume now if I ever go out again.” You smiled, reminiscing over the memories from last Halloween, and stumbled off your bed to find the outfit.

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The music was blasting, and you couldn’t help but look in awe of your surroundings. A double curved staircase with red carpeting was in front of you and Wanda, with grand railings connected to the marble floor below. The home was obnoxiously large, you could talk and an echo would rumble through the room.

Wanda gives you an encouraging look, and grabs your hand to lead you towards the party room upstairs. The silver tassels from your mini dress rubbed against your dress with every step you took, and you knew there was no turning back now. Besides, there was no way you could leave this beautiful home anytime soon, you simply wanted to drink in it’s beauty forever.

Once upstairs, a man in a suit smiled at the two of you, and asked for your invitations, which Wanda gladly handed over. With a nod, he opened the doors that were taller than any of you, and the sight immediately took your breath away.

White, translucent balloons hung from the ceiling. Art deco inspired tables with feathers and gold tassels lining over them containing copious amounts of alcohol were in the middle of the room. Intricate white and golden wallpaper covered the walls, which helped bring everything together, but the flashing disco lights allowed a modern feel to this 1920’s inspired party.

Not too long after entering the room, Vision strutted over to the two of you after catching sight of his girlfriend. “Hello (Y/N),” he flashed a quick smile to you and placed a kiss on Wanda’s cheek, “Care if I steal my girlfriend away for a dance?”

“No problem at all,” you waved your hand to dismiss the two of them, and Wanda went off to the dance floor with her love.

This was normal, Wanda would be whisked away by Vision, and you typically found a guy to bring you attention for the night, but something felt different. Right now, all you wanted was a drink, and you found yourself making a beeline towards the tables full of alcohol.

The bartender was dressed in one of the finest suits, and you couldn’t help but wonder “If his employees are dressed like this, what was the Baron wearing?”

“What would you like?” Your mind blanked trying to think of alcohol that you liked, it’s been too long.

“Surprise me, it’s been a while.” You smiled sheepishly, but your attention was caught by the feeling of another person behind you.

“That won’t do, you look like you need something strong.” A thick, European accent filled your ears, and you couldn’t help the way that your body tensed up. With a turn of your head, your eyesight took hold of the one and only, Helmut Zemo.

He looked even more delicious standing so close to you. As expected, Zemo didn’t mess around with his looks. A burgundy, pinstripe suit hugged his figure, and you couldn’t help but take note of the way his arms looked under the tight sleeves.

“Something strong would be nice,” you say holding your chin up, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the most well known man in the school. With a wave of his finger and a command in a language you didn’t know, two shots of clear liquid were slammed on the table, and Zemo picked one up with a cheeky smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him and nervously picked up the shot glass with shaky hands. Lifting it up to your nose, your face contorted into an expression of disgust at the smell of acetone. “What is this?”

With a rumbling chuckle from Zemo, your cheeks blushed slightly, silently scolding yourself for losing your composure. He raised his glass and with a tilt of his head, he responded “Rakija, essentially European moonshine. I’ll take a shot with you, it can be too strong for some Americans.”

Silently, you nodded and raised the shot glass, mimicking his actions. Once he swiftly threw back the liquid into his mouth, you followed, and immediately wanted to gag. It burned as it went down your throat, the taste of pure chemicals became overwhelming, and you managed to keep a straight face through it all. Zemo slammed his glass back onto the table and took a step towards you in order to be able to communicate over the loud music.

“I apologize for being such a rude host, but I don’t recognize you.” The smell of rich cologne flooded your nostrils, and you could’ve melted right there. His eyes peered down onto you, being that you were significantly shorter than the man towering over your body, and you licked your lips.

“I usually stay in my dorm, I’m pre-med.” You held your hand out politely, “(Y/N).”

Zemo’s rough hands took hold of your own, lowering his head to leave a kiss on the indents of your knuckles. Without standing up straight, he raises his eyes to look at you through his eyebrows, “It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/N), I hope you’re enjoying the party.”

His voice was like smooth caramel and melted chocolate, just the right mix of salty and sweet. His thick accent burned into your head with the way he said your name, and your hand was tingling from where his lips met your knuckles. After hearing the stories of his charming ways, you wanted to call bullshit, but experiencing this first hand was completely different. There was some truth to the rumors of the mysterious Baron, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to find out more. The man simply oozed sex appeal.

“I actually just got here with Wanda. She’s off somewhere with Vision.” You were proud of how you managed to keep your voice at a steady level, knowing that your mind was going crazy with how close the two of you were.

Zemo’s eyebrow perked up at the mention of Wanda’s name and held out his hand with the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly, “Any friend of Wanda’s is a friend of mine, care to dance (Y/N)?”

Every fiber of your being wanted you to run, knowing that if you went to dance with him, there was no turning back. Still, you couldn’t stop your hand from being placed into his, and he swiftly pulled you along towards the dance floor.

Sweaty bodies surrounded the two of you, but you could only focus on his eyes engulfing the way the dress hugged your body in all the right spots. He placed his hand on the small of your back where the dress was open, the touch sending shivers down your spine. The Baron’s hands were warm, completely contrasting the iciness of your skin.

With another hand on your waist and a smirk, he began moving his hips, which you soon followed. As the song went on, the distance between you got smaller and smaller, until your chest was practically smushed against his. You lifted your left hand to run through his chestnut brown hair, and it was as soft as you expected it to be.

“Of course it is,” you thought to yourself. “A Baron deserves only the most expensive products.”

“You’d think I would know everyone on campus, but your beauty caught me by surprise.” His breath felt hot against your ear, and you swallowed thickly.

“Not many people know me,” you countered.

“What a shame, isn’t it darling?” The use of pet names was enough to make your knees buckle, especially when paired with the Sokovian drawl, but you shook your head in defiance.

“He probably says that to all the girls.” Even so, you wished your mind would be quiet so you could appreciate this moment for what it is. The chance to dance with the bachelor everyone was pining for, but he was only paying attention to you.

You didn’t respond, only picking up the pace of your swaying hips, grinding against his thigh. Zemo exhaled a quick breath, and wasted no time to smash his lips onto yours. This action sent electricity through your body, the taste of the alcohol on his breath only made him more alluring, and your mouth copied his movements. Teeth clacked against one another, but neither of you cared. The only thing you could think about was the feeling of his fingers trailing down your back, and the way you fit with him like a lost puzzle piece.

Zemo grabbed at the nape of your neck, signaling to deepen the kiss with a tightening grip and a nip at your bottom lip, but you pulled away before you did something you regret.

With a confused look, Zemo licked his lips. “Care to go upstairs to my room?”

“Actually,” you say breathlessly, “I think it’s better if I head out.” Regretfully, you untangle your bodies and take a step back from the powerful man standing in front of you.

Without taking a second to think about what you’ve just done, you turn and make your way to the exit, but not without glancing at the Baron one last time.

His eyes never left you, and he stood still as you walked through the doors.

#zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #marvel #wanda maximoff #vision #zemo imagine #zemo fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #the avengers #college!au #college!zemo #bucky barnes #pietro maximoff

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fa-by · 4 years ago

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hi F! Please do an analysis on Lauren’s new song While I’m Alive! She said on her instagram that it was directed to “someone” at first 👀👀

Hi to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and for sure. No problem, in fact, I'm sorry for the delay 😅

So. While I'm Alive is part of the Femme it Forward's all-female album called Big Femme Energy, Vol. 1. Laur wrote it long before she was part of this project, and yes, she said she wrote it with a person in mind by turning a vent into art because tired of the way she was/is treated:

This person, in my opinion, is 100% a shark. And this also responds to another ask I've recently received:

Hey to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Yep, Laur wrote it for someone among the higher ups and therefore it concerns her career in particular, but she also applies it to other situations in her life in general.

Now let's move on to the interpretation.

Verse 1:

“Don't say I'm too loud when I cry out what I've held inside

I wanna know why they tried to take me and bury me alive”

The music industry is dominated by men. Gender inequality, sexism, and ageism reign supreme. No matter how much harder they have to work in order to succeed, women are anyway either sidelined, or supervised by men. Why? Because there’s a huge disparity between men and women, especially due to the way the public perceives their success and power. For example.

A man is praised for performing on stage with just the guitar. A woman who does the same, however, not only is she criticized for being too lazy and boring for not having made the performance more lively with a choreography, but she’s also criticized for what she was wearing. Same woman who gets criticized when she instead performs with a choreography because she wasn’t good enough. A woman who can’t be a drummer because it’s a thing for men, and if she persists in wanting to play, it’s not because it’s her passion and she’s pursuing her dream, no; it’s because she wants attention 🙄. A woman who can’t have a good idea about a song because, what can she understand about music, right? 😒

Unfortunately, it’s all a double standard. Women work harder than men and they then get questioned whether their success is deserved. One way or another, women are constantly being torn apart. Reason why Laur begins the verse by already letting us understand how put down she is by the sharks, followed by a question that actually doesn’t represent a real request for information, but that implies a predetermined answer.

“'Cause who am I to think that I have a right?

Or decide to know what I need, right?”

She's sarcastic of course. Since they've always told her what to do, how to act, and how to feel, here she's including a couple of examples among the thousand and more things they always have said and say to her. Because who better than her knows what's best for her? The answer is her. Especially when these orders, because they're orders, are imposed on her to make money with her career and not for her sake or because they care about her as a person.

“It's in the way, I talk and I walk away

From what you made me”

By ‘what you made me’, she refers to the way she was before. The person who was forced to accept everything she was told to do and therefore she couldn’t be herself. The person they made her become, and she didn’t like that person. Now she no longer wants to ‘submit herself’ and accept everything just for money and fame as she did in the past because she was legally obliged and not to do so. She did it many times especially when she was still in the group, but unlike in the past, she luckily no longer has the same kind of obligations. So if she doesn’t want to do something now, she simply doesn’t. She says no to what she doesn’t accept and walks away from that (I talk and I walk away) by not caring if she doesn’t have the same success as before because she prefers not to have that kind of success anymore but to remain herself, rather than have it and be just a product (what you made me); a different person from who she really is.

Verse 2:

“And I know this is all too familiar

Feel the motive behind all that fake love”

In Olivia Rodrigo’s voice 🎤: 🎵 Did you get deja vu, Laur? 🎶 No, but all joking aside. By ‘I know this is all too familiar’, she means what she has already experienced in the past and which she has once again found herself in front of. Once out of both Epic/Syco and Maverick, she believed she would’ve be dealing with better people, but it wasn’t like that. She realized that those kinds of people are everywhere because it’s the music industry that’s like that. The problem isn’t the single label or the single management team, it’s the entire industry. The problem isn’t the surrounding, but the people who are in it. Not all of them luckily, but most of them unfortunately.

By ‘Feel the motive behind all that fake love’, on the other hand, she describes precisely that kind of people. The fake ones who first treat you well because they want something from you, and then show themselves for who they really are when they don’t get it and try to hinder you, punish you, destroy you, and ‘bury me alive’ (verse 1) because of it.

So. Although I said it playfully at first, these two sentences go perfectly well together to describe the sense of deja vu that Laur felt.

*Small note* In the next three sentences of the verse, I will use these ‘---’ to complete her sentences as if I were Lauren to give you my interpretation. I’ll then continue as I always have. Oh and, she’s talking about her music here.

“I can’t take all these unsolicited opinions --- Nope, not anymore. I don't want them. Thanks, but no thanks.

Go ahead and be the scared ones --- with someone else who’s ready to tell you yes to everything and who doesn’t have a vision on how they want their own songs. Someone else who has no problem being a marketable product/puppet.

Either way, I’ll get it done” --- with other producers, songwriters, collaborators, etc., of my choice.

“I’ve been told I’m too much

Too proud, too cruel

Too wild, difficult to be around”

Let’s also add too confident, too sincere, and too honest from the people who mocked her at school before she became famous, shall we? Or maybe too fat, too arrogant, too full of herself, too whore, and all the other things said by the haters over the years? 😒😒😒🙄🙄🙄

I was being sarcastic of course, guys. I mean, can our girl ever have a break?

“With too much to say

Never in the right way

So, what’s the right way?”

Rhetorical question here because the right way is exactly the way she is. She has no intention of behaving in the ‘right way’ they want because it would mean not being authentic and automatically it would no longer be the right way because she would be fake.

Chorus:

“If I can’t be me

Who do you want me to be? (Who do you want me to be?)”

I love, love, love, love this. For real. It’s so powerful. And it doesn’t surprise me that this part along with the rest of the chorus is repeated four times, because it’s the most important part and it encloses the whole song perfectly.

“‘Cause if you can’t see beyond your gaze”

Behind their ideas to be the perfect product without looking at the person and their feelings.

“You don’t phase me and I don’t trust you anyway

‘Cause runnin’ through life, I figured out time

Don’t wait for no one”

After all these years and precisely because of what she’s been through, she realized she can’t wait for them to see it the same way she does or for someone to ‘save her’. She prefers to ‘save herself’. Therefore, she will continue to be wary, not to trust, and above all, to remain authentic as she says here:

“So while I’m alive, I’ma just be me (I’ma just be me)

Whoever that ends up being”

And that's it, dear Anon 😉 This song is dedicated to one particular asshole who gave her the idea, but mostly, it's dedicated to all those assholes who tried to tell her what kind of music she should have made, how she should have behaved, and how she should have felt. She decides for her, and she doesn’t care if she doesn’t have the same success anymore. Just like she doesn’t care about all the rest like the expectations and superficial perceptions they have of her that are completely wrong.

I hope you enjoyed it, and I wish both of you Anons and everyone else reading this, a beautiful day ❤🥰🤗

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tloujm · 3 years ago

Text

Part XXVII: Captive

Author’s Notes: N/A

Genre: Angst

Summary: Joel and the rest of his patrol group find themselves in danger. You become emotional after receiving some startling results.

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Joel leaned forward against the counter as he wrote his entry into the log book. There wasn’t much to say. The little log cabin that acted as their first checkpoint was clear of any danger and showed no signs of tampering since the last entry. He closed the book and looked back at his two patrol partners. Marcus and Glen were resting in their respective spots. Joel figured it was time for him to do the same when he saw a shadow pass in front of one of the living room windows. His brows furrowed as his focus heightened. It could have been a number of things that he saw. Glen noticed his hardened demeanor and asked what was wrong. All Joel did in response was put one finger over his lips and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the handle of his pistol.

One of the floorboards that made up the porch creaked. The sound went away just as quickly as it appeared as if a competent being had known they made a mistake and removed their foot from it. It was at this point, Joel knew it wasn’t just some lost deer roaming around the premises. The other men followed suit and aimed their guns at the entry points. The air was very still save from the dust particles that floated in ray of sunlight across the living room. It was also eerily quiet. The three of them exchanged quick glances. Joel was about to walk up to the door when it swung open from the outside. A small group of men rushed in and immediately opened fire.

Joel ducked and crawled over to the kitchen. He flipped the table over to use it as a shield. His thoughts immediately settled on the safety of his partners before he peeked his head out to see where everyone was. Marcus was hiding behind the couch. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he stuck his hand out to shoot blindly at the attackers. Joel popped up from behind the table to shoot them. A bullet hit one of the men’s shoulder while another managed to hit another in the cheek, rendering him useless. He ducked back behind his makeshift shield a split second before a bullet could graze him.

The attackers were currently distracted by Marcus shooting at them again. Joel took this opportunity to crawl away and find another place for cover to catch them at a different angle. As soon as he peeked his head around the other side of the table, he saw a pool of fresh blood. His eyes followed it to the source to reveal Glen laying on the floor. His eyes stared blankly out at the wall in front of where his body laid. Joel quickly took cover behind the table again and gathered himself for a second before making a run for it.

With a rush of adrenaline, Joel shot at the attackers which inadvertently covered Marcus as he ran to another place of cover. He managed to wound them, but not kill any. They took cover behind the same couch Marcus used. During the few moments of stalemate, he noticed that only two took cover and if he killed one early, then that left one more…Joel’s vision suddenly went black a split second after a sharp pain shot through his head.

A pounding ache tormented Joel’s entire head. His vision first came back blurry then all at once clear. He pushed himself up from the cold cement floor into a sitting position. He noticed that it was significantly colder than before as he instinctively shivered. Large hunks of meat hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. His legs almost felt foreign under his weight as he got up. The sound of metal hitting something hard echoed into the room he was in. Following the source of the sound, he accidentally bumped into one of the hunks. As it swayed back and forth on the hook, Joel noticed features familiar to him. His eyes darted from the hair around the belly button to the nipples at the top. They widened in realization that the hunks of meat were human torsos and that the men who attacked him were cannibals.

A loud chop brought his attention back, leading him to cautiously follow the sound again. Quietly, he picked up a lead pipe off of a shelf on his way. He came to a halt at the doorway. A strange man’s back was to Joel as he hovered over a naked body on the table. One of the legs was already detached and pushed aside, almost falling off the table. The cannibal lifted his hand with the cleaver to do the same with the other leg when Joel ran up to him and pressed the pipe against his throat from behind. He gagged as the knife fell out of his hand. Joel applied more pressure against his windpipe as he brought his arms into his chest. His eyes flashed over to the bloody body on the table. If it wasn’t for the cannibal leaving the head on, he wouldn't have recognized him as his patrol partner, Marcus. Just like Glen, his eyes looked blankly on. They focused on a spot beyond Joel.

He released the pipe from its position against his throat and let him drop to the floor. Rage overtook him as he instead swung the pipe against his head. He kept at it until he was sure that he was dead. Even then, he wanted to add a couple more swings, but he knew that he wasn’t the only one he’d have to fight to get out of there. It wasn’t worth getting caught or spending extra energy on if he stayed to beat his head into a pulp. Hesitantly, he approached the dismembered body on the table and closed his partner’s eyelids before moving on to the next room.

******

Your foot tapped against the floor almost uncontrollably as you waited. You let your head fall into your hands as to avoid staring down at the stick on the counter. The sound of the door swinging open caused you to pop your head up to find Ellie on the other side of the bathroom.

“Uh, sorry. I forgot to knock.” She said in a low tone. It looked like she needed to pee, so you swiftly ushered her in and closed the door behind you. As the door clicked, you forgot to take the stick with you. Pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door, you listened as she flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet. Surely she saw it just sitting there. You only stopped when she opened the door again. She stood there in front of you silently for a few moments. “Is that yours?” Her head nodded in the direction of the counter.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed and nodded. “Is it ready?”

Ellie turned and hovered over the stick. “Does two lines mean it’s ready?”

“Oh my God.” You whispered. “Fuck.” You began repeating the expletive before sitting back down on the edge of the tub.

You grabbed the stick to double check for yourself and there it was, two very distinct lines. If one line was faded, you would try to convince the nurse to administer you another test, but this seemed pretty definitive. You didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted this, but you still couldn’t help the nerves that flared up across your body. Guilt began to rise as you regretted not waiting for Joel to do this with. He would know how to feel. You continued to sit there, imagining him sitting on the edge of the tub with you. He’d take the test from your hands and double check the instructions from the box before smiling. You would imagine him engulfing you in a hug, tucking his head in your neck and mumbling some words of joy that you couldn’t quite discern.

Though the daydream offered a sense of comfort, you were snapped out of it when a real pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle. You looked down and saw Ellie sitting next to you on the edge of the tub. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Her presence, while an accidental invasion of privacy, was welcomed. You repositioned yourself in her arms to hug her back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to curse in front of you.” You whispered into her hair.

“I’ve heard worse.” She replied with a playful tone in her voice.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Mmhmm.” She hummed lightly.

“That this stays between us.” You wipe a tear away. “I have to talk to Joel and then the doctor.”

“Who am I going to tell?” She said, referencing the fact that you’d never seen her converse with anyone else since she first spoke in front of you and Joel.

*******

“Hey, Tommy, give me a hand with this.” A resident of Jackson yelled out. Your head whipped around in his direction. You’d been looking for Tommy all day. The resident was sitting down near the stables trying to get a horseshoe off a huff. Tommy stepped out of the shelter and came into your view.

“Tommy, hey! I hope you’re not busy now. I’ve been looking for you actually.” You said when you got closer to them.

He bent down to get a closer look at the huff. “I always have time for you; you’re family. Now what’s wrong?”

“Well, Joel and ‘em aren’t back yet from their patrol. They were scheduled to be back two days ago. I know sometimes things happen that delay their travels---”

“Exactly.” He finally pulled the horseshoe off and tossed it into the dirt. “Any number of things could have happened out there that caused them to veer off plan. Those three are some of our most experienced patrolmen. We both know firsthand what Joel is capable of.” He noticed that his words were not easing the worry written across your face. “Did you know that I spent five extra days out on one of my patrols. It was the toughest route I ever did, but every decision we made as a group was for the betterment of our survival even if it meant staying out there a little longer. Five days really isn’t normal though. I’ll tell you what, I’ll get on the walkie and ask our scavenging group to see if they see any signs of them heading back. They should still be close enough to catch Jackson’s frequency. Their route is right next to Joel’s; it should be no problem for them.”

“And what if they don’t see any signs?”

“You know what our emergency policy is. We send out a search and rescue crew if the original group is not back within six days.”

“Does that not seem like it’s too long to you?” You asked.

“Like I said, especially on longer routes, they can be delayed for a number of reasons. I know it's not what you want to hear, but we’ve wasted resources and lost lives in the past to premature rescue missions.”

“Tommy, that’s your brother! Wouldn’t you want him to go out looking for you if you were out there possibly in trouble?” You said frustratingly.

“I know he would go out and look for me when it was time. Everybody who is cleared to patrol knows what the emergency rescue policy is. They were trained for situations like this just as you were. I’m sorry.” Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder as he tried to find compliance in your eyes. “I left my radio in the stable. I’ll go and try to contact the scavenging group now. Hopefully they are still in range.” You nodded before he walked off.

#TLOU #TLOUII #TLOU2 #thelastofus #joel miller #joel x reader #the last of us joel #tlou joel #tlou joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel x fem!reader #Joel Miller x Fem!Reader #joel miller x you

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

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i saw your post about Charles and what his personality past and part in the story line so i was wondering if u could do the same for vlad? :)

Ah, well, I can at least let you know what I’ve seen so far? I haven’t delved too far into Vlad, and some of his general impressions can be confusing, so I’ll do my best to make it sensible and unbiased! Here you go lovely <33333

Fair warning, there will be mentions of a lot of JPN app content since Vlad and his boys aren’t around much in the ENG app yet.

My general sense of Vlad is basically discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha.

What I mean by this is to say–according to what I’ve read so far–his clan/family were murdered by vampire hunters in cold blood when he was just a young boy. Presumably as a result of that traumatic event, he harbors a sizable enmity towards humanity and kind of lashes out on them in weirdly specific moments of violence. Another aspect of his motivation is something that’s mentioned within Comte’s route; which is that Vlad went through the timespace door on his own one day and allegedly saw a devastated future, where nothing remains of life on earth more or less.

I guess the reason I find him to be so perplexing is that he speaks about his actions in terms of efficiency, while most of the things he does just feel like unhappy outbursts (v often a product of unresolved trauma symptoms, I’d wager.) I also say this because he appears to have no larger pattern to his fury beyond the original event of his loss. Most of the human beings he attacks aren’t much of a threat to him and hurting them really doesn’t bring him any dividends beyond revenge.

For instance, he insists his disdain for humanity and insistence on controlling them is for the sake of ensuring they do not destroy the future–the horrifying wasteland he witnessed when he traveled through the timespace door. However, I’m not really sure how his current movements really speak to that goal? I mean sure, maybe he’s relying on Faust to create an immortal human so that humans will be forced to care because it will be their future too, but he doesn’t allow Faust to draw his pureblood blood for experimenting. (One can most certainly argue this was more about a lack of trust, and perhaps for plenty reason: Faust is vindictive enough to try to turn the tables and exert control over Vlad, or act on his own whims with his findings.) But if that’s the solution he’s waiting on, turning the rivals of the men in the mansion doesn’t really bring him any closer to that vision either? I mean, what good does it do to bring back Gilles de Rais–a prominent French serial killer? How would unleashing him on the populace help humanity “realize the error of it’s short-sighted and wasteful ways” and move to a brighter future?

Can’t help it, I ask these questions as I read.

In Comte’s main story, Comte hammers home that Vlad is not somebody to be taken lightly. One day when MC goes out to buy flowers, Vlad poses as a human florist to sell them to her–which is how Comte finds out he’s in France, and that he’s made contact with MC. When prompted, Comte describes him in a very particular way; and I think people really overlook this when they talk about their relationship. He says that Vlad is frighteningly pure in terms of the way he thinks and acts. The way I understood his description (given what I’ve seen of Vlad) is that Comte really does mean it point blank: Vlad is very simple in terms of why and how he does things. The issue with this is that nuance and context are lost on Vlad as well–and that’s where the problems start to flood in. Vlad is angry at humanity for what they’ve done to him. Baseline? That’s fair, they killed his damn family. However, Vlad thinks that by extension he has the right to decimate the general public and attack people completely uninvolved in his hurt.

And that isn’t right either–it’s ignoring so many factors here. He’s ignoring how much vampires use and toy with humans as pawns, it’s ignoring the massive power imbalance between him and his victims (this really isn’t a case of self-defense most of the time, nobody but Comte/Leo is a sizable threat to him), and he’s ignoring whether or not a person even did anything to deserve his retributive violence. While murder is never okay, it is perhaps more understandable when we see Jeanne’s frenzied and violent belligerence in response to a man who murders a boy’s mother for the sake of his own amusement/convenience. Vlad literally sees almost every single one of the rivals he created begin to heal/improve and murders them in cold blood because they are no longer of any use to him. That’s uh……..that’s a little messed, not gonna lie to you chief.

While part of me understands the efficiency here–he doesn’t want to leave any traces of his involvement, he doesn’t want any loose ends–it’s also just kind of foolish and cruel ultimately. From my understanding of the narrative, all the people he turned had some visible sign that indicated their origin to Comte. So even if he claims it was for the sake of concealment, it was more likely about his personal convenience. Which…..also yikes.

[Comte clearly does not trust Vlad to be reasonable, and I think there’s plenty of good reason enumerated above, but I actually don’t sense quite so much hatred? I think he’s just given up on the idea of Vlad growing up, even if he doesn’t like giving up on people. And considering Vlad’s behavior, I think it’s overkill to say that Comte just abandons him because he doesn’t care lmao. Even when Comte expresses real anger at the end of his own route, it was more because Vlad was fine with endangering MC’s life just to get back at him. I think Comte’s unhappiness with Vlad has more to do with Vlad’s treatment of human life as meaningless and worthless. It’s fascinating but also kind of sad? Vlad’s traumatic experience results in behavior that is a direct exacerbation of Comte’s trauma, and as such--no matter their potentially fond history--they can’t stomach each other.]

In Comte’s route, Vlad also has Shakespeare abduct MC and take her to the cathedral. Later on in the castle, we see an immediate display of Vlad’s shocking powers: he has the ability to manipulate people’s desires/thoughts. I’m not exactly sure how this works, but he is able to give MC visions of the mansion and Comte coming on to her–which shocks her into realizing it’s all just a dream. It’s not reality; it’s all manufactured by Vlad.

After that...weird introductory note...Vlad gives MC the rundown on his life together with Comte, which as always is subject to a question of bias. My assumption is that he did not lie, only because he was trying to convince MC that he was “right.” Furthermore, he does not omit the most damning evidence of his erroneous judgement, which suggests a continued inability for him to see where he went wrong.

We get a series of three flashbacks. The first is them as young kids. I don’t know if Vlad had already experienced the horrors of his family being destroyed, but this particular flashback focuses on Comte. His parents, in an effort to teach him that vampires and humans have no ability to co-exist, send away all of his teachers/mentors/nannies/the servants--pretty much everyone and anyone he was closely bonded to. Think about it this way: we can see that Comte is very sociable and affectionate by nature. He was living in a house full of people, all of whom cared about him and looked after him in their own way. Now the house is entirely empty. Naturally Comte is very very upset, and Vlad appears to try to cheer him up with little success.

[When I look back on this scene I don’t think I initially registered the sheer dissonance of Vlad’s reaction, versus Comte’s catatonic misery. There was a very solemn feeling to that memory, and the correct choice in terms of extending comfort is to hold his hand believe it or not. There is a sense that he feels very alone. When young boy Vlad enters one can argue that it was the proper thing to do; he was trying to cheer up his playmate and friend. But at the same time, I think I need to double check. Because I’m beginning to wonder if I was wrong. What if Vlad was happy to see someone as alone as him, and that joy is accordingly dissonant for that reason? He can’t see what Comte needs or how he’s hurting because he’s so glad he isn’t alone anymore in a way.]

The second flashback is the war nurse scene that I have spoken at length about. The important thing to focus on here is Vlad’s surprise that Comte would opt out of turning her out of respect for her wishes. The way Vlad frames the situation is starkly different from Comte’s. Comte sees himself as an outsider, somebody who invaded her life as a result of the timespace door and therefore has no right to suddenly change the course of her fate. He had no idea if she even wanted to live (considering the horrors she’d have to cope with and remember) or leave that time period at all, for that matter (considering the only thing keeping her going was helping the wounded/victims). Comte really was listening to everything she had to say, and he was taking her concerns and motivations seriously.

Vlad simply says: if you want her, take her. It’s as simple as that for him. And in one way that’s not entirely wrong--assuming Comte would have every intention of looking after her and actually cares a lot about her. But what’s being ignored here is her agency and the fact that they really don’t know each other that well? Something like that could begin and be rocky, if it doesn’t end in complete disaster. Worse, I get the feeling Vlad is perfectly fine with the notion of turning her and if things don’t work out, just kill her or get rid of her. Again, the simplistic thinking comes into play here: it ultimately comes down to Vlad being self-centered. He’s thinking only in terms of satisfying his needs, he doesn’t seem to have any concept of a larger pair or group feeling. There’s an inability to bend/be flexible for the sake of maintaining a greater harmonious feeling.

[For the record, I don’t think this makes him irredeemable? Only that it makes it very hard to live with him or love him, probably. There’s an inability to live at a joint pace? It’s always answering to what he wants without room for anything else most of the time, which to me is not living and it’s not love ;;;;]

Following their escape back to their own time, Vlad explains how he wants to use the door to turn geniuses and control humanity. He eventually wants to create a surveillance state, which would mean everyone is forced to move with his explicit approval, more or less. (He almost reminds me of Louis XIV, can’t tell if that’s what they were going for.) I have my doubts that his abilities could extend that far, but human history shows us that we are plenty susceptible to fascist and totalitarian rhetoric. In a shocking display of anger, Comte draws the line at controlling humanity and forcing them into a regime in which, and this is Vlad’s description not mine, “we (purebloods) would be like kings.” There’s definitely a concept of evolutionary superiority at play here, which echoes what I mentioned earlier; vampires seem to have this awareness that they’re apex predators in a sense, and enjoy the power that comes with that. Unfortunately, that probably makes for a fairly toxic/uncomfortable larger species culture, which is exactly what Comte and Leo hate lmao.

Vlad does not seem to find any issue with this sort of outlook, and asks MC to decide which of them--Vlad or Comte--is right. Who is more realistic, who best understands the future? As expected the MC replies that it's Comte, and Vlad goes from beseeching to big mad at record speed. He's p much that gif of the teddy bear that smacks its head down on the tables and then has the angry eyebrows.

This is where Comte intervenes, firing a warning shot that grazes Vlad's cheek and demanding he let MC go. In response, Vlad shoves MC into the turbulent timespace door--p much guaranteeing MC's death. (Essentially timespace is a void of sorts, a human being could never survive in that environment for long. Vlad fully knew this, and yeeted her anyway.)

So uh, yeah. Disagreement? Death. Moving on? Death. Nuanced approach to reality? Death. Beginning to think he doesn't really have a lot of patience or open-mindedness or any other kind of problem-solving approach.

He raises flowers and gardens like a fiend, and he openly plucks any single flower with a blemished leaf. Even if a single petal is slightly damaged, it will be removed and destroyed. So one could argue his extremism reflects a kind of perfectionism as well. No room for errors or troublesome dissent. No ugliness of any kind. I mean in all of his interactions with Faust and Charles this is the overt undertone. Don't ask more of me than I'm willing to give. Behave like good children, mommy's busy. Is that insubordination? boss music begins

One thing I actually don't understand very well is his decision making in Dazai's route. Dazai finds out about what Vlad's doing in a nanosecond when he senses MC is in danger, and yet Vlad makes absolutely no move to eliminate Dazai? He just watches from the shadows. Even when Dazai grills Charles about his loyalty to Vlad, no retribution.

My best guess for this specific situation is that Vlad does derive some level of satisfaction thwarting the future of human beings/former humans. Dazai--being somebody with no great desire to live, no rivals to speak of as far as we can tell, and no larger aspirations--is a life that is easily extinguished. There's no satisfaction in it. When Vlad's clan was murdered and he saw the future decimated, it could be that he felt humans had invaded and eradicated every potentiality that was important to him. Where he might have lived happily with his family, that future was ripped from his grasp. Where he might enjoy his flowers and the creation of an immortal for the rest of conceivable time, that too was ripped from his grasp with a desolate future.

So much about who Vlad is is about control, so it's very possible his lashing out is an extension of that. Dazai does not awaken any of the disdain he feels, and he does not succeed in overthrowing Vlad's control over Charles, so Vlad simply lurks in silence.

And last but not least, I've seen the preview to Vlad's newest birthday event story. The contents are incredibly revealing, in that MC wishing him a happy birthday and offering him a gift has him saying that it was "the best birthday ever." Granted idk if that’s sweet or just...beyond sad, but here we are. It’s only compounding my curiosity about the wound on his chest--I really do wonder if he was attacked and locked away by vampire hunters or hostile human beings or something. I say that only because that line speaks to a lot of isolation, and given how little he seems to care about turning people/subjecting them to his whims it feels odd. Why the isolation or lack of people who care about him? Is it a perceived lack where his actions alienated all the people who wanted to be close to him, or is it a more involuntary lack?

When she says let’s celebrate again next year, he seems a pleasantly shocked by the notion, and remarks “Ah yes, it’s a promise c:”. The preview was also mega horny: “You make me feel so loved, I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight. If you enjoy it so much, then I won’t stop. I want to see you completely lost for me. I’ll teach your body what it means to be loved by a pureblood.” Aaaaaand pretty sure the CG was alluding to him licking the good stuff from her basement, though not entirely sure given it was only the preview.

The brief POV they give us is also very revealing:

“You always keep your promises, and I think I underestimate all the time how much you saved me. You are good, only you are good in this world.”

“Will we continue to make promises to each other in the future? Well in that case--you will always, always be mine, my vampire.”

Tbh he’s...v sweet? In his own way? Honestly he feels like a crabapple that is just so sick of the world and wants softe wife to take comfort in. While granted that’s not really my thing, I know a fanbase appeal exists for these types--so if that’s your thing, have at it!

So now that we have reached the end of my ridiculously long analysis (when am I ever brief, I’m so sorry. If you made it all the way here you deserve a cookie at the very least, if not the right to chase me with a bat) perhaps it’s more clear why I said discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha? “My clan is gone, every other second I’m going to be in retraumatization insanity, when I’m not I’ll be seeking power/hobbies, planning the demise of people who wanted the best for me, building a team to my advantage and unquestioned control, and eventually settling for a lifelong love who sees the best in me despite my more difficult moments and perceived hollowing loneliness. Not the most ideal comparison, but I will say if Vlad was not already named the historical figure, would have pointed and yelled Uchiha.

That’s all from me folks, hopefully this was a fun way to get introduced to him? And again, hope I didn’t alienate--I fully respect what people do and don’t enjoy o7

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp meta #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp faust #ikevamp charles #ikevamp dazai #i hope this was helpful!#i had too much fun writing it jkahlgkjhgdf i love meta #but thank you for submitting <33333 #oh discount vampire sasuke uchiha we really in it now #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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miracle-sham · 4 years ago

Text

Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 1: Hurt No Comfort} |

| It all went wrong so quickly. Marinette thought she could trust Jason, that he'd never betray her. And Jason thought the same. But with a truth-serum turned poison seeping through their veins, neither had thought to look for the purple feathers. |

| Word Count: 1,706. |

———

| A/N: I'll try and keep this short and sweet but it's nice to dip back into writing for Maribat, I really missed it whilst I was gone. Also I've now got a author's channel in MGI where I sometimes put title sneak peaks, snippets, and random au ramblings, so y'know feel free to pop into the channel and have a gander if you'd fancy! And one last thing, keen eyes may have noticed I've added a Spotify Playlist Link, it contains all the songs I listened to when working on this oneshot, if you're curious! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Marinette staggers back, clutching at her bloodied side as the world spins for a moment and everything blurs. Breath catches in her throat as a sharp pang of betrayal pierces her heart, tears springing to the corners of her eyes unbidden. Whimpering, she barely manages to cry out, “J–Jason?”

Heartbreak coating his name like the truth serum-poison making its way through her system at this very moment.

She makes an awful choking noise and collapses to her knees, scrunching her face up and wheezing. Barely is she able to keep her eyes open, fixated on staring at someone she thought she could trust.

Smirking lazily, Jason saunters up to her, crouches and then grabs her face by the chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to continue staring at him in the eyes. “Aw, did you really fucking think I cared about you this entire time?”

Marinette swallows thickly—unable to conjure up a response to him. Black spots start to form in the corner of her vision like watching a spattering of embers burning away on a piece of paper.

He tilts his head to the side and snorts, “really? Nothing to say, no heartfelt "I trusted you!" or "you're lying!". Not even a "I know the real you is still in there?", how fucking pathetic.”

There's a small part of her brain that starts flashing red lights and wailing alarms—warning her that she's in danger, that she's hurt, that she's stopped breathing. She can't breathe, can't move, can't say anything or she'll spill all her remaining secrets.

Jason sighs and drops her chin. “And here I fucking thought your shitty-ass reaction to me betraying you would be more fun.”

Grimacing, she waits a heartbeat after he lets go before mustering all her strength to slam her skull into his—if I'm going down, you're coming with me for this, Marinette mentally vows.

There's a horrendous thwacking sound as the impact lands, and Marinette feels as though her brain has turned into a blender that just had its blades snap mid blend.

Jason, on the other hand, flings himself backwards and curses up a storm. He pulls out one of his guns and with dizzying vision, manages to shoot a bullet that just clips the uninjured side of her ribs. “That's what you fucking get for that you bitch!”

Marinette doubles over as the pain seems to ricochet through her; vision blacking out completely. She struggles for breath, her hearing cutting off not a second later. Objectively, she's aware she's not alone. But as her senses shut down one by one, leaving her helplessly trapped in her own mind, she can't help but wonder why her heart aches with loneliness. I'm sorry, she silently apologises to no one and everyone.

Distantly, she thinks she's swaying—or collapsing again maybe. But it's hard to tell, it's disorientating trying to focus on the world with dying senses.

Marinette is lost. Every little movement, every little thought—it's agony, a struggle to keep going, keep holding on. Once more, she silently pleas for forgiveness from the kwami.

She stops.

Stops breathing. Heart stops beating. Stops fighting. It all stops.

At least this way, she thinks to herself, I can't spill any secrets from the truth serum-poison if I carry them to the grave instead…

She sinks into the darkness, clinging to her final thought in numb relief as she does so. Everything fades away.

———

Jason groans as the knife Marinette is wielding digs deeper between his ribs.

She doesn't move back immediately, so he grits his teeth and roundhouse kicks at her—the heavy thump of collision makes his wound burn like acid has just been poured on it.

He's a few seconds too slow pulling his leg back, as Marinette slices the knife through his calf.

“Fuck!” He bites out, throwing himself further out of her range and breathing. “Marinette!”

With the gall to smile faux-innocently, she plays with the knife in her hand, slipping it between her fingers and swirling it about. “Yes, Jason?”

“The fuck are you doing!?” He growls, shifting his position when she doesn't move to apply pressure to the calf wound.

She shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “what? Did you really think this wouldn't happen one day? That I wouldn't get sick of you. Show you just how much you've hurt me the entire time we've known each other?”

Jason spits blood from his mouth at the warehouse floor in front of her. “I don't believe whatever shit you're being made to spew, but I sure as fucking hell know that you'd never do something as fucked up as this.”

“Oh, that's cute! You still believe in me. What's next, are you going to beg me to come to my senses? Are you going to cry my name and hope it changes my mind? Are you going to declare that the "real" me is still there inside and that you're going to save me?” Marinette giggles, high-pitched and yet hollow sounding.

Jason flinches at the sound, breathing stuttering as the poison from her knife starts to really seep in. Shit, he thinks to himself, truth serum-poison. If I'm not careful I'm gonna say shit that should stay secret.

A flash of silver catches the edge of his vision. And it's all the warning he gets. He immediately ducks and rolls, cursing under his breath as his wounds are aggravated. The air by his hair swooshes as the blade just narrowly misses.

Marinette giggles taper off into a hiss of fury. Her hair slips out of her pigtails from the constant movement, and multiple strands fall in front of her face. She huffs, ineffectively blowing them out of the way. “Did you really think I ever loved you?”

“Yes!” The words are choked out of his mouth before he can even think, the truth serum-poison kicking in hard and fast. Jason wheezes and the taste of iron lingers like malice in his throat. Fuck, he thinks desperately, I'm running out of time and Marinette isn't snapping out of whatever the fuck's been done to her.

He stumbles into another roll, as the blade comes swinging at him again. His vision blurts violently, and the next thing Jason knows—is that his view has suddenly tipped upside down and that there's a throbbing ache radiating from the back of his shoulders and head.

“Huh, you really do have a thick skull. Normally that'd be enough to knock anyone else out. Well, I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Marinette rambles, pulling out a rag.

Jason grunts as he pushes himself only to be slammed back into the concrete warehouse floor, rag pressed firmly over his mouth and nose.

He thrashes and refuses to inhale. Marinette scowls and kicks him sharply into the ribs, causing him to gasp through gritted teeth. But it's enough to affect him.

His vision teeters then flickers to black, he can feel his movements slowing—becoming more and more sluggish until he's as still as he was in that fucking coffin he's had to crawl out of once before. At least, he barely manages to cling to the final thought, I can't spill any secrets if I carry them to the grave once more.

And then it all fades away.

———

Lila steeples her finger and smirks. She's sitting in her plain white office for the Agreste, three monitors set up before her on the desk. The middle screen shows her emails and a few tabs up on fashion for work-related reasons. The outer two screens, however, show the feed to two identical cells—two by four by five metres with cement floors and grey brick walls, no windows and a single plain black metal door. No furniture either, not even beds or toilets, just chains attached to the wall opposite the door. And in the chains is what has Lila so very happy indeed; Marinette and Jason, one in each cell and both stuck in the chains with no hope for escape.

A steady pool of blood has already formed beneath the both of them, thanks to the wonderful work of her Sentimonster duplicates of the two.

Lila can't help but monologue in her glee, “It's so excellently simple really. Even if one escapes, there's no way they'll help the other escape now. Now they've experienced the pain of betrayal and torture inflicted by the other!”

Footsteps approach the door to her office; all it takes is a quick click and click of the mouse and her two outer screen feeds flip to showing more work-related tabs and emails.

The door opens to reveal Adrien, slightly dishevelled—hair and shirt ruffled, eyes red with dark bags beneath them, and shiny tear streaks down his cheeks—he stands in the threshold, shaking. “Did you know?”

Lila smiles in fake confusion. “Know what?”

Adrien swallows, gaze flickering to her screens. “Marinette's dead. So is Jason.”

Lila tilts her head to the side to make it look as though she's thinking. “The Wayne boy that was close to her, right? Oh dear.”

His tired gaze turns back to Lila as he continues. “They think both of them were kidnapped and tortured separately. Police have found traces of an altered truth-serum among the bloodstains and…” He chokes for a second, grief plain as day across his face. “and they found pieces of fingers, ears, slices of skin, and all.”

“Oh, oh, that's horrible!” Lila gasps, covering her mouth with her hands to hide the victorious curl forming on her lips. “Have they found out who was cruel enough to do that to them yet?”

Adrien shakes his head silently.

“Hopefully, the culprit will be found soon. But if you need any support, I'll always be here for you, Adrien!” Lila gravely announces, bobbing her head slightly as she spoke.

He narrows his eyes at her, shakes his head, and then stalks away from her office.

She scowls as soon as his back turns and gets up to shut her door. “Well,” She says to herself as she flips back to the cell feed, “at least that means I'll have plenty of time to pull the secrets from you two without the police thinking to look for you alive.”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this oneshot, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #DC x MLB #MLB x DC #Jasonette #Jasonette July #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July 2021 #Jasonette July Saturday Challenge #Jasonette July Hurt No Comfort #Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture #YSPEWF #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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ilguna · 3 years ago

Text

Berceuse - Chapter Two

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

warnings; swearing. murder plot ?

wc; 10.1k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It’s a good thing that Alyssum has a high pain tolerance, otherwise she’d be doing a lot more than gritting her teeth right now. The sound of the wax ripping off her skin is enough to bring tears to her eyes, even though it’s not actually taking any hair with it.

The prep team is trying to be gentle, Alyssum can tell by their movements. They’ll warn her ahead of time, tell her when they know it’s going to be particularly brutal. It wasn’t until an hour ago, did she realize that they must have worked on you when it was your Hunger Games.

It must also be why they have this look on their face, like they know Alyssum but are too afraid to bring it up. She already knows Elysia has watched her grow up, so it’s not really a surprise that these people have watched her too. Of course, Alyssum hasn’t been in the public eye for nine years, this is her first appearance in a while. It must be some form of whiplash, from seeing a toddler to a teenager.

At the beginning of the session, the prep team had taken enough time to introduce themselves and what they would be focusing on. Cleo, a blonde girl with artificial curls, focuses mainly on the smaller details; Alyssum’s nails, special effects, and clothing adjustments if they’re needed. She’s talkative but polite and curious.

Leo, the only boy with dark orange hair and freckles like stars across his cheeks, is her makeup artist. He’s got gentle fingers, and a contagious laugh. His accent is stronger than the other two’s, and he always tilts his head when he's done with a sentence. He’s managed to find a way to reshape her face so far.

And finally, there’s Beth. Naturally dark and wavy hair, pretty brown eyes. She’s the quietest, doesn’t talk unless she’s genuinely interested. She does Alyssum’s hair, scrubbing her scalp and carefully washing the soap and other products from her hair.

Alyssum can see why you like them. You don’t talk about them often, only sometimes in the boarding school, and if it’s at home, it’s always regarding parade outfits. Otherwise, it’s always in passing and never in detail.

Well, at least she can finally put a face to all the names she hears so often. It’s one thing to look forward to, to see all the people that had saved her older sister before she went into the Hunger Games. The ones that gave you a bright start and all the right pointers to help you win.

“I think we should hose her down one more time.” Cleo says, her hair is pulled up and out of her face, there’s a faint glisten of sweat across her forehead.

“And we can give her the lotion.” Beth says, giving Alyssum a reassuring smile, “Then she’ll be all done.”

Alyssum smiles back.

They took their time with the finishing touches, making sure they hadn’t missed any patches of hair, ticked everything off their list, and did any special adjustments that were required during the session. Once that’s done, and they’re sure that they’re not going to need her again, they leave to get Laurel, her stylist.

Alyssum vaguely remembers meeting Laurel, and it wasn’t during your Victory Tour when you’d won. No, she was too young to actually realize that she should be taking in her surroundings to hold to her memory. Instead, Alyssum remembers meeting Laurel during Annie’s Victory Tour, when she came to visit during the winter, at the very beginning.

She can’t seem to recall much, besides the obvious fact that Laurel was much, much taller than she was at the time. Alyssum had only been eight at the time, and back then, she was only beginning her training at the boarding school. The reality of what type of world she lives in didn’t quite set in just yet.

Alyssum ties the robe shut, per Beth’s instructions. Laurel trusts them enough to not double-check their work. Not to mention, there’s not much to go over in the first place, she’s still very young.

When the door in front of her slowly starts opening, Alyssum sits up a bit taller on the medical table she’s sitting on. It reminds her of the check ups she has every month to make sure she’s growing properly.

A tall woman with dark hair is revealed, and immediately, Alyssum knows that it’s Laurel. She can’t help herself when she gets off of the table and heads forward, arms extended for a hug.

Laurel opens only one of her arms, but squeezes Alyssum into her side tightly, a slight laugh bubbling out, “How have you been, Aly?”

“Good, if you ignore the reaping.” She smiles, allowing Laurel to direct her out of the adjacent room and into the next one.

It has a few couches, and a coffee table in the middle of them with food displayed.

“Still passing all of your classes?”

“Yes, of course. (Y/n) and Reed make it hard not to.”

Alyssum takes a seat on the couch, hands resting in her lap. It isn’t until Laurel motions to the food in front of her, does she realize that the food is for her, not for Laurel. It’s also at that moment, she remembers that she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast this morning, which had to have been hours ago.

With no argument, Alyssum takes only the food she recognizes, not feeling adventurous. The food last night on the train was delicious, there’s no question about it. The problem is that, in less than two hours, she’ll be in front of a large crowd who already knows her name, and her entire background. The last thing that Alyssum wants is to get sick all over the chariot.

“(Y/n) requested for me to be careful with what I dress you in.” Laurel says.

“That’s probably for the best.” she pauses between bites, “Reed likes it better if I don’t show too much skin. I think it was the same way for (Y/n).”

A knowing smile crosses her stylists’ face, “Yes, that’s why we had to change her outfit. I have something that’s a little more modest for you, too.”

“He’ll like that.” Alyssum rests her plate on her knees, “What will it be?”

“A dress, we’re going for an underwater princess theme. It’ll cover your skin in the right places, all while making you look appealing to the potential sponsors in the audience.”

“Has (Y/n) seen it?”

“Yes, she’s already approved of it.”

Alyssum lets out a hum as she nods, trying to picture it to herself. It’ll probably be blue, that’s all that District Four is known for being. A vast blue ocean with violent waves, green seaweed that traps the legs, brightly-colored coral reefs that are a sore to the eye, and endless amounts of potential outfits that come from fish, alone.

A blue dress, something breezy because it represents the wind that comes from the ocean. Likely ripped, or maybe wet to give the illusion that she’s just come out of the water, and plenty of jewelry to secure the idea that she’s a princess. This idea has been done before, there’s no doubt about it, it’s Alyssum’s turn to represent the idea.

She finishes her plate, setting it onto the table, then gives Laurel a bright smile, “When do we start?”

A couple of hours later, Alyssum is standing in front of a mirror in the dressing room. The dress she’s wearing is lopsided, with one side being shorter than the other. The short side goes to her knees, the longer going to her ankles. It’s ripped, just as she thought it would be, and layered to make the dress bigger. The fabric is soft against her skin, almost ticklish.

The top half of the dress is halter--no sleeves, the support is in the neck--it’s a little tighter in the middle, but the back is open to make up for it. And then they gave her white no-show socks for her, also white, dress flats. As for jewelry, so far the only important piece seems to be on her head, the pearl crown.

Of course, she has the whole matching set; the pearl earrings, the pearl necklace, and the pearl bracelet. None of it compares to the crown, or even the diamond ring that they managed to find in the drawers.

Her makeup is mild, most of it being rainbow highlights so that the sun rays catch her face the right way. Leo insisted on light blue eyeshadow, blush, and clear lip gloss, Cleo made sure Alyssum had blue nails. As for Beth, she decided on a simple halo braid, with white ribbon woven through. There’s a few loose hairs hanging in Alyssum’s face that were promptly curled once the braid was done. And as if the ribbons weren’t enough, Cleo tucked in a few white flowers.

It isn’t until she sees Paslee at the chariots, does she realize how severely overdressed she feels. So much jewelry, flowers, and makeup. Only for Paslee to look simple, with a suit and a crown on his brow. She does notice the matching flower tucked into the suit’s pocket.

Alyssum has half the mind to glare at you for allowing this to happen. She understands that the stylists’ all have a vision, and in order to stay as a stylist, they need to go above and beyond. She just thinks it’s ridiculous, and embarrassing that she looks like a walking mannequin.

Until she takes a look around her, and realizes that she’s not the only one. She’s far from being the only girl overdressed next to their male counterparts. District One is dressed in glitter, District Two is a little more naked this year, and it’s all the same for the districts to her right.

“It looks like you’re going to get most of the attention.” Paslee says, nudging Alyssum’s arm with his elbow. He gives her a grin, trying to be polite and calm her nerves.

She doesn’t know how he’s so at ease. Everyone back home is going to see them two, everyone from the boarding school will be taking pointers on how to or not to act. It doesn’t matter if they fail or succeed, the two of them will both be examples. Their mistakes picked apart and shamed by the other victors, by the future victors.

And her brothers, and family friends, who have seen you go through this exact same situation, will be seeing all the differences and similarities. Practically experts all by themselves since they experienced it second-hand. Affected, but not directly.

Still, Alyssum manages to muster a smile to give back to Paslee, “I’ll try and save some for you.”

Paslee laughs, not minding the fact that he’s drawing attention. As soon as you and Finnick approach, dressed formally in your own ways, business begins. Laurel circles Alyssum, trying to catch any last-minute mistakes, picking at areas in the dress she realizes she doesn’t like, and tucking any fabric that needs to get out of the way.

When it comes to Pleurisy and Paslee, he just has a few curls out of place, and they fix the flower in his pocket by safely-pinning it so it doesn’t move anymore. Other than that, his shoes are still shined, and he knows better than to make any big movements in the suit, afraid that it’ll rip.

“Okay,” you breathe, “You two already know that there are cameras, so be wary of any facial expressions.”

Alyssum nods.

“Everything will come to you naturally, so don’t worry about doing the wrong or right thing.” Finnick smiles, “Just remember that whatever you do today, will be your personality for the rest of the week.”

Paslee stands a bit taller, “What about the arena?”

“Facades don’t last very long,” you say, “Remember when I showed you my games? Or what about Johanna’s?”

It dawns on him, “Wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“Exactly.”

The anthem begins, silencing any other thoughts. The large doors slide open, allowing light to fill the hall they stand in, revealing them to the crowded streets. This is when Laurel and Pleurisy jump into action, forcing Alyssum and Paslee onto the chariot just as District One begins to move out.

“Turn inwards a bit!” You shout over the roar, hoping they hear it.

Alyssum turns her body so that she’s more towards Paslee, than the crowd. She takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds while she feels her heart beat in her chest. When she breathes again, she feels slightly more relaxed, trying to ignore the impending doom feeling that’s stuck in the back of her mind.

The chariot begins moving, leaving her worries behind her. There’s no time to focus on the wobbliness of her knees, or the dryness of her mouth. She tries to suppress the smile sneaking onto her face, but the moment cheers erupt into screams, she can’t help it anymore.

Alyssum is your little sister, she has a big name to live up to. She may only be twelve, but there’s a whole list of people that are expecting great things, inside and outside of the arena. Forget everyone else here, Alyssum is underneath a microscope.

She lifts her hand and waves to the crowd of people on her left, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible. How many of them were your sponsors? Will they sponsor her? Do any of them actually like her?

Then she hears her name screamed, head whipping in the direction, eyes searching to see a woman dressed in red. The woman hurls a blue rose at Alyssum, making her jerk to the side to catch it in time. Thankfully, all thorns have been removed from the stem, otherwise there’s no doubt that she’d be bleeding.

With the flower in hand, Alyssum holds it up for the woman to see, breaks a good portion of the stem, and then tucks it into her hair. Just as she moves on, more gifts are being thrown at her. Paslee, who’s begun to notice, can’t help but to laugh with her. It’s all so ridiculous.

Alyssum opens her mouth, leaning over to talk to Paslee, when the crowd explodes behind them. She thought that they’d been loud for her, but there’s another district that seems to have captured attention.

Paslee says something, she doesn’t catch it. Her eyes flicker upwards, looking to find some sort of indication on what’s going on. Should she be panicking or upset? All she knows is that she can’t turn around to look. It’ll just take the attention away from her, and redirect it to the other district.

She sees it on a television screen above her. Her smile slowly fades, she nudges Paslee with her elbow to get his attention. He follows her gaze, and soon, he’s no longer smiling either.

District Twelve is on fire.

Both of them, the girl and the boy, are on fire. They’re dressed in neck-to-ankle black, complete with a cape. They’re so bright, it makes the career districts forgettable. Alyssum tries not to be mad, making a genuine effort to convince herself that she should be happy for District Twelve, they’ve actually become memorable for once.

She can’t keep the thought process going on for long, though. The Hunger Games is a competition, tributes are posed against each other from the start. Those sponsors that could’ve been hers, are now possibly theirs.

District One’s chariot begins to enter the City Circle, signifying that the parade is already halfway over. All that’s left is the president’s speech, and then they’ll be on their way back to the hall that they came from in the Tribute Center.

Knowing that there’s going to be more cameras, Alyssum fixes her stance so that she’s standing taller again, forcing the smile to come back to her face. She can still hear the cheering and clapping behind her, the Capitol isn’t done with getting their fill of the Twelve tributes.

Each of the twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle, on the buildings nearby, Alyssum can see that every window is packed. With how close they are to the president’s mansion, it just means that these people are the most expensive. They are the ones that Alyssum should be wanting to sponsor her.

Since District Four’s chariot is already stopped, and now they’re just waiting for the others to come to a halt behind them, Alyssum looks up to the windows and gives a slight wave. Nothing hurts right now, anything she doesn’t do could set her up for failure. If she does too much, then it’s the same thing.

With the music ending flourishly, she redirects her attention to the balcony, where President Snow has stepped on to make his appearance for the speech. He gives his traditional welcome, but Alyssum’s focused on the television screen still, watching as the camera crew does their usual stop-and-go on the tributes in the chariots. She’s happy to see that she does get a few extra seconds, probably just long enough for Caesar and Claudius to comment, before moving on to the other districts.

They stay on Twelve the longest.

When the speech is finally over, the horses bring the chariots around the circle one last time for a final look, then they bring the tributes into the Tribute Center.

The chariot barely has enough time to come to a stop before the prep teams have surrounded Alyssum and Paslee, clapping their hands and squealing out praise. Alyssum tries to kindly accept what they have to say, but her eyes are on District Twelve, wanting to see who their stylist is. Only a genius pulls something like that out of thin air, and they’re brave to do it for Twelve in the first place.

The first thing that she notices is how she’s not the only one looking. Many, many other tributes around the girl and boy from Twelve are staring, and they’re not friendly looks either. This is enough for Alyssum to decide that she doesn’t need to hop on the train of hate, the other tributes already have that handled.

Just as she goes to turn away, her eyes catch Twelve’s girl--Katniss’--eyes. And it’s in those seconds, does Alyssum realize she’s got this whole thing backwards. Yes, the Hunger Games is a competition, which is the exact reason why she should be trying to get ahead at any possible chance. Even if there’s no guarantee it works, or that it might mess up future plans, it’s worth a try.

This is why Alyssum smiles, and waves long enough for Katniss to wave back. The two of them have got a lot of spotlight on them at the moment, only for different reasons. They could always bounce back and forth, desperate for the most shining airtime, or they could become allies and use it to their advantage.

Katniss gives Alyssum a shocked smile.

A hand is placed on Alyssum’s upper back, drawing her from the interaction she was having. When she looks over, she can see that it’s you, and you’re giving a curious look to where Alyssum was just staring.

“Ready to go?” you ask, once you don’t see anything.

“Yeah.” She beams.

Together, in a group, they all move to take an elevator up to their floor. On the way over, Paslee and Alyssum take a look at the careers while they can, since this is their preview to the training rooms. Of course, they saw them on television, but it’s nothing compared to seeing them in the flesh.

And from what Alyssum gathers in less than a minute, the most threatening district in their career group is going to be District Two. Just like she had figured yesterday, when she saw the reaping recaps. The girl is short but bulky, and the boy is average and strong. He’s been training his entire life, Alyssum knows it.

Elysia calls for the elevator, and holds the door so that everyone can go inside, with the exception of the stylists and prep teams. Elysia presses the button that will lead them to District Four’s apartment, in the meantime, Alyssum stares through the glass walls and watches as the ground gets further away from her.

This is her first--and probably last--time in an elevator.

In the apartment, Paslee and Alyssum suddenly have free reign until dinner. Elysia shows them their rooms again, and they’re bigger than the ones on the train. Alyssum figures that she may as well shower, not really wanting to stay in her costume until dinnertime.

She hums to herself as she picks out a comfortable evening outfit, jeans and a shirt, and gently picks up the shoes to lay by the door. The shower in the Capitol is much more complicated than the one on the train. She sets everything down on the counter, and messes with the control panel on the shower until it turns on, and it’s a respectable temperature.

The makeup runs straight down the drain, easily forgettable. She doesn’t need to wash her hair again, it’s been done plenty of times today already, so she just keeps it in the braid. The most she does is take out the flowers and toss them in a nearby trash can in the bathroom. After that, she’s left to scrub dirt and sweat from her skin, thinking how it’s such a waste of time to spend hours preparing her for just one chariot ride that doesn’t even last thirty minutes.

Just as Alyssum’s finished getting dressed, Elysia is knocking on the door to let her know that dinner’s ready. She slips on the shoes that she set beside the door, and then heads out of the room.

The first thing that Alyssum notices is how the stylists are here, which means they must be joining supper. It’s perfect, actually, because Alyssum has a question about District Twelve’s stylist, not really over how they gave Katniss and her tribute mate such a big debut.

You’re sitting at the table with Finnick, Laurel and Pleurisy, the four of you being engrossed in conversation. Elysia is nowhere to be seen, presumably retrieving Paslee. Alyssum almost feels like she’s intruding on the moment, until you’re motioning her over to join.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, giving her a side hug.

She smiles slightly, shrugging, “Good? I don’t know.”

“You’re not nervous or anything?”

Alyssum pauses long enough to realize what you’re implying. It isn’t about what she’s feeling at the moment, it’s any worries that might have come up from this morning to now. For example, the tribute parade.

“Oh, well,” Alyssum moves around the table to take an empty seat near to you, “I just wanted to know if Twelve’s stylist was new, since it’s a different approach to the district, instead of the usual coal miner stuff.”

Finnick nods, a smug look on his face when he looks at you, “I told you.”

You briefly glare, “I said I wasn’t sure because I saw her waving to the tributes, I never said you were wrong.”

“Your tone of voice did.”

“That’s--” you start.

“--not the point.” Laurel finishes smoothly, looking over Alyssum carefully, “And you’re smart for picking that up, because he is new.”

“Should we be worried about the interviews?” Paslee asks, coming down the steps with Elysia. He’s also changed into something more comfortable, taking a seat next to Alyssum.

“It’s all about personality and becoming memorable, as always.” Elysia tries.

“That’s not what I meant,” Paslee shakes his head, “I meant outfit-wise. If he pulled that out of nowhere, then what else will he be able to pull?”

If Alyssum was worried about Paslee not picking up on things earlier, she isn’t anymore. She knows that he’s older than her and all, but sometimes people skip over the small details because they don’t think it’s important.

“We’re going to try and find a way to make you guys pop too,” Pleurisy says, “We just have to change the outfits that we had originally laid out.”

“That’s comforting.” Paslee mutters, it’s hardly audible, and it looks like the others didn’t pick it up, with the exception of Alyssum.

It’s silent in the room for a long moment, allowing the tension to settle in further. Alyssum knows that all the outfits are supposed to be the stylists idea, which is the exact reason why they have so many outfits planned for the future. In a situation like this, though, planning ahead does nothing but screw you over.

Well, Pleurisy did just say they have to change the original outfits, anyway. It doesn’t hurt to try and throw out some ideas.

“What if the outfits changed pictures?” Alyssum asks Laurel.

She sits up taller, “What do you mean?”

“Um… well, like an optical illusion but if I moved my body, the scenery on the dress would change to something else because of how I was standing.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Alyssum begins to doubt the idea, maybe it wasn’t smart after all.

“Oh,” Elysia says, “Oh, I get it, like those Valentines cards that kids hand out in school.”

Laurel shifts her attention to her, “Is that what she means?”

“People hand out cards?” Paslee asks.

“It must be a Capitol thing.” Finnick tells him.

The light goes off in Pleurisy’s head too, “Lenticular! It’s called lenticular, I was just talking to Esmeray about it.”

“Do you think it’s possible to pull off?” Laurel asks, “Besides the materials, I think we could order it all tonight.”

Pleurisy is nodding quickly, “Yes, we just need to figure out the pictures--”

Paslee pats Alyssum on the back, “Quick thinking.”

Alyssum smiles, “Thank me later.”

Dinner kicks off after that, the Avoxes serving the meals one at a time. It’s just like how it was on the train, starting lightly with savory soups, and slowly moving into more of the heavier, more filling, foods. About halfway through, Alyssum decides that she’s full and would like to give her stomach time to settle before continuing.

The conversation keeps on the interview outfits for a while, Laurel and Pleurisy allow everyone to chime in and ask questions. Every now and then, they’ll actually ask for input on what the dress should look like. Like base color, where the pictures should go, what the top half of the dress should look like--it’s already decided that it should be puffed out and end above her knees.

Or with Paslee, what type of suit, if the pants should be the same material or just a plain base color. If his pictures should resemble something different or similar to Alyssum. It even goes down to the question of whether or not Alyssum and Paslee should match during the interviews, it’s common but not exactly liked by tributes.

For now, the two of them agree to it, because they haven’t found a need to say no just yet. Maybe later on, if the two of them have suddenly lost interest in an alliance and found two different groups to stick with. Alyssum has a feeling that Paslee is going to naturally drift towards the careers, which isn’t a horrible idea for him. He’s seventeen, built like the rest of them. Alyssum is still small, she’s twelve, and she’d be the youngest out of all of them.

Then again, there’s no one else to really form an alliance with. Of course, there’s always the other twelve year-old girl from Eleven, or the occasional other young tributes from the less popular distracts. That’s a whole problem by itself, though, because they’re typically not prepared for the Hunger Games, and therefore become a danger the more that time goes on.

And Alyssum can’t forget about her interaction with Katniss just a few hours ago. She’s an older sister, Alyssum saw her volunteer over the younger girl. Alyssum knows it could mean a number of things, like Katniss just wanting to protect her. But out of all the Hunger Games that Alyssum has watched, she’s never seen an older sibling volunteer over the younger one, because either way it’s a death sentence. Both of them will die.

No one is driven to volunteer that quickly just because they want to protect their younger siblings. There’s always a part of them that knows that they can win the Hunger Games. And for that exact reason alone, makes Alyssum think that Katniss can be a good ally. It’s just a matter of getting close enough to see what she knows.

Also, if Katniss does end up showing promise before the Hunger Games, the last thing that Alyssum would want is to be an enemy of some kind. Even a little bit of friendship between two tributes can go a long way. She’s seen it happen before, and it typically pays off in the end. Even if that means to sacrifice certain alliances.

After dinner, the Avoxes bring around a tall cake, painted a light shade of green. When they cut it open, candy pearls spill out the middle, clattering against the glass plate. They dish out a healthy serving for everyone to have, but with how rich the cake is, Alyssum can’t get through half of it before feeling full.

Once they’re all done at the table, they move on to watch the recap of the tribute parade. Honestly, Alyssum doesn’t like having to watch it over, it just means she gets to see the Capitol freak out over Twelve again. She’s tired of talking about them, at least until tomorrow.

The good news is that Alyssum and Paslee had been the center of attention until they had come out. If there’s anything to build off of, it would be that. But she already figured that was the case.

“It’s been a big day,” you start, looking over to Paslee and Alyssum, “I’m sure you two are exhausted.” You reach over, tucking one of the loose hanging hairs out of Alyssum’s face and behind her ear. There’s a gentle smile on your lips, “Finnick and I damn near passed out after our parade.”

Finnick places his hand on your upper back, a smile beginning on his own face, “We skipped dinner entirely.”

“Rest.” your attention diverts to Paslee, “Meet us here tomorrow morning so we can help you with the training session. The first day always means the most, the two days that follow are just as important. We’ll be here if you have any questions.”

“I’ll wake you in the morning if you don’t get up yourself.” Elysia pipes, sitting up straight.

It’s clear that they’re queueing them to go, so Alyssum doesn’t argue. She looks at Laurel, “Thank you for the tribute parade. And if you see the others, can you thank them too? I appreciate them being gentle.” she turns to you and Finnick, “Goodnight, love you.”

“Love you too.” you say, Finnick’s voice echoes yours.

Just like that, Alyssum heads up the steps, leaving Paslee to say his own goodnight. She doesn’t go into her room immediately, though. She stands in the hallway, hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans while she waits for him to catch up. When he does, he notices her and stands on the other side of the hall to make it look like he’s gone to his room.

“Do you want to try out the career group?” She asks.

“What else do you have in mind?” Paslee asks back.

Alyssum tilts her head slightly, eyes drifting from his face when she hears you and the others start speaking to each other again, “Katniss and her friend have made a pretty good impression.”

“They’re from Twelve,” he says, tone disinterested.

“(Y/n) and Finnick were fifteen and fourteen when they won together, an occurrence that the Capitol hadn’t allowed in like--thirty years!” she brings her hands out to motion, “I’m not talking about odds here, because they’ve always been wonky with my family. I’m saying we pool sponsors together if they end up showing some promise.”

Paslee doesn’t look convinced, his face twists and he’s shaking his head still. Alyssum’s only heard stories about what happened between you and Finnick during your time in the Capitol. There’s one story you tell to all the newcomers of the boarding school to give them an idea of what it’s really like. And the big lesson that normally derives from it, is that alliances don’t last.

You and Finnick had been allies until the two of you split, you to the careers and him to a group of lesser known tributes. In a way, it worked out in the end because the two of you did end up back together. The only problem is that’s not always the case.

While Alyssum was watching the tribute parade, she noticed something very specific, and it’s that out of all of the districts, only two of them were friendly to each other. And she means that she and Paslee had looked at each other, and Katniss and her friend were holding hands. Out of the other ten districts, neither of the tributes even bothered to acknowledge each other.

Alyssum may not be perfect, but she’s not stupid enough to ignore the facts. She knows that it’s not often that tributes are going to like each other, especially coming from the same district. So, why not try and create an alliance that’ll actually work? Not even Districts One and Two were talking to each other.

“Okay, well, you don’t have to like the idea,” Alyssum gives him a funny smile, “It’s just there in case it’s the better option.”

“I don’t…” Paslee trails off.

She’s backing away toward her room, eyebrows raised, “You don’t what?”

He doesn’t answer her, she goes into her room. You’ve said it many times inside of the boarding school, that only the tributes that have been drawn to go into the games can assign their fate. No one else can make these decisions for her, and dwelling on just one person can very well ruin her plan.

She gets ready for bed, changing into a pair of shorts and a shirt before curling into bed. The bed is soft and comfortable, the room cold enough to enjoy, and the blankets keeping her warm, she falls asleep in no time. Even though there are nightmares waiting in the days coming.

Elysia’s insistent knocking wakes Alyssum, she stands in the doorway, waiting patiently until Alyssum can finally comprehend what she’s saying, “First day of training, you’re not going to want to skip breakfast.”

Alyssum yawns, using the heels of her hands to rub her eyes.

“All uniforms are pre-picked by the stylists, yours should be in the closet.”

When she lifts her head, she sees a blurry image of Elysia standing at the door, one hand resting on the frame, the other on her hip. Alyssum has to blink a few times in order to see better.

“Okay, thank you.”

Elysia nods her head once, and then whirls around to leave. The door slides shut automatically, and Alyssum is left to get ready by herself. She silently makes her way around the room, throwing any blankets that might have ended up on the floor, back onto the bed.

The closet is still unnecessarily big, so it takes her a moment to scan the shelves to see which clothes Laurel had laid out for her. There’s a sports bra, a tank top and leggings all folded together on the shelf. She picks it all up, and grabs any extra items she’s going to need while getting ready.

She spends a good minute staring at the window that takes up the entire wall, not liking the idea of the people below seeing her sleeping--and changing. She groans and heads into the bathroom instead, changing into the training outfit. It’s white in most areas, the accent color being black. Her leggings are entirely black, and the shoes are a repeat of the shirt.

Alyssum takes her time trying to brush her hair, knowing that there’s going to be snarls. The blow dryers that the shower comes with were extremely good at getting it all out last night. Today, it’s Alyssum’s problem. And she ends up tying it out of her face, anyway, not wanting to be bothered by it all day.

It isn’t until she’s finished getting ready, does she realize that she’s missing something very important. She stands in the bathroom, staring at herself for a long time, going over each body part individually, thinking that she’ll catch it that way. She’s right, her eyes stop on her neck.

The necklace isn’t there.

Alyssum straightens up, the sleep completely leaving her body. Did she leave it on the train last night? You even went out of your way last night to ask to make sure she wouldn’t, and here she is. Then again, it could have happened this morning when the prep team had jumped at her for the grooming.

Did she even have it this morning?

Alyssum leaves her bedroom, going into the dining room. You’re already sitting out there with Finnick and Elysia, Paslee nowhere to be seen. He’s probably still getting ready, or searching for his training outfit, since it wasn’t in any obvious spot like Alyssum thought it would be.

“Good morning,” You hum, giving a smile to Alyssum, “How’d you sleep?”

Alyssum shrugs, “Pretty good, actually.” She takes her seat at the table, “Did you take my necklace off the train?”

Your smile widens into a grin, and Alyssum immediately knows that it’s the case, “Yes, and I already gave it to Elysia. The Gamemakers will have a look at it, and if it’s approved, Laurel will give it to you before you go back into the arena.”

“Okay,” she falls back against her chair, relieved that she’s not going to be in charge of it for the next couple of days.

“What about you?” Finnick asks Paslee, “Any tokens?”

Paslee nods a little, bringing up his wrist to show off a silver bracelet, “It belonged to Marsh. He forgot to take it into the arena with him.”

Finnick hold his hand out to take it, “Does it have any poison, knives, needles, anything that might get you in trouble?”

“No, it’s just this chain.” he drops it into Finnick’s palm.

“It should pass inspection, then.” Elysia takes it from Finnick, placing it into a pocket on the inside of her jacket.

Breakfast is then served by the Avoxes, taking away the chance to continue the conversation any further. Alyssum eats the assorted dishes, being careful to avoid foods she knows that she doesn’t like, and anything that might make her feel sick inside of the training room. Not to mention, she will be able to eat lunch in a few hours.

You and Finnick finish much faster than they do, and don’t wait for them to finish eating before Finnick begins, “You have to remember that the Hunger Games is a competition. Save your best skill for the private session with the Gamemakers, that happens in two days.”

“Your goal is to impress the Gamemakers, not the tributes around you. Everything you do inside of the gym from today to the private session will be observed and noted. You are careers, they’re expecting great things from you. And there’s no use in saying ‘no pressure’ because the pressure is on.”

Alyssum’s nodding along, so is Paslee. They understand, the two of them have spent years in the boarding school for this reason. They have trained for years, and in doing that, have found the skills that they’re good at, and honed the ones that weren’t as good, they’re prepared. Especially Paslee more than Alyssum.

“Don’t force an alliance with the careers.” you say suddenly, eyes on Alyssum, “I’m talking to you, Aly.”

“I know you are.”

“The careers don’t like tributes younger than them because the younglings are hard to control and sometimes unpredictable. I’m not saying you are, but the more you force them, the more they’re going to deny.”

“Actually, now that you say that,” Finnick looks at you, “Maybe she shouldn’t try at all.”

Alyssum sits up in her chair now, mouth falling open. She wants to object, because that’s not fair at all.

“If she’s good in the training center and scores high, the careers will target her and take her down because they know that she’s weak to some capacity. I mean, look at her and tell me you wouldn’t be able to take her down in a fight.” Finnick explains.

“Well, of course I can.”

“No, I mean look at her from a tribute perspective…” he looks back at Alyssum, the room is silent for a while.

And then you blow air out of your cheeks, “The Twelve tributes we went against.”

“Exactly.” Finnick says, happy that you’ve figured out what he was thinking about, “We were young then too.”

You hum, “She still needs sponsors.”

Elysia clears her throat, “How about you try at eighty percent and not one hundred?”

“Yes, don’t make an actual effort to be noticed.” Finnick agrees.

Alyssum nods slowly, her mouth has since closed. She’s still not exactly thrilled by the idea of hanging back, because it could cost her the training score, but then she remembers that if it doesn’t work out with the careers, she has a backup plan.

“Okay.” Alyssum smiles, “Easy peasy.”

Elysia checks her watch, “We have fifteen minutes before we have to leave. Meet me at the elevator by ten.”

She stands from the table, gives a pointed look to Alyssum and Paslee, and then leaves to the back room. You and Finnick also take this as a sign to get up, knwoing how much work has to be done before the games. And the interview outfits!

“We’ll be here when you get back.” You smile, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Alyssum says, heading back to her room.

She brushes her teeth first, making sure that her mouth hurts by how much toothpaste she uses. After, she searches the drawers for some type of body mist that she can put on, on top of the deodorant and everything else she applied before breakfast. She doesn’t want to smell horrible by the end of the day, so she’ll do anything possible to prevent it.

She spends her remaining time trying to find tomorrow’s outfit so that she doesn’t have to search. She places it in the same spot where she found today’s clothes, and hopes that no one will come around later to move it. By the time she’s done reorganizing the closet to her liking, it’s time for her to go.

Elysia is waiting at the elevator, just as she promised she would be. It’s a minute or so later before Paslee is joining them. She presses the button, the doors shut, and the only noise that fills the silence is the sound of the elevator going down. And right when Alyssum is prepared for it to stop at the base floor, it continues.

“The gymnasium is underground.” Elysia says, as if she’s reading their minds. When the doors open again, she starts off first, “I can’t go inside of the room with you, I’ll walk you as far as possible.”

And she does, taking them halfway through the hallway before she decides that they need to show some independence. If the other tributes see her in the doorway, then it’ll be obvious that they had her walk them up. Besides, it’s not really much of a problem, they can see the door now.

“Thank you!” Alyssum shouts, waving goodbye to Elysia before they both head inside.

The doors open automatically, allowing them to get their first look at the room they’ll be training in for the next three days. Alyssum can’t help but to look at each individual station, noting what they are and which ones she’d like to visit before the day is over.

They aren’t the last to arrive, and they aren’t the first either. That’s the good news, because punctuality is important, just not enough to be the first people inside. As long as they come inside some time during the middle, then they won’t be remembered. Even though the other tributes are looking at them now. She wonders what’s on their minds.

Paslee and Alyssum are stopped a little after the doors, being told that they need to wear a mandatory number. They don’t specify why, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that it’s because the gamemakers need a way to keep track of them. There’s going to be twenty-four tributes inside, she’s almost certain that the gamemakers just think of them all as a blur by now. So many faces, only one of them will survive.

Once the patch is placed on their backs, it’s time for them to pick a place to stand. Her eyes wander, dancing over the different Capitol personnel, glancing briefly at the gamemakers in the box above, and the tributes standing in a circle. Alyssum laces her fingers together, trying to keep level breathing.

These are her opponents. No one here right now is a friend.

She doesn’t even see District Twelve.

The only thing that matters is that the other careers are here, standing together in a group. They’ve already formed their alliance, and they seem pretty friendly for the most part. At first, they pay Alyssum and Paslee no attention, continuing their conversation, filling the air with their laughter.

It isn’t until the blonde girl from One glances, and does a double-take, do the rest of them follow.

“Smile.” Alyssum murmurs, trying to be quiet as she looks away, “If they smile back, then join them. I’ll see you later, grab me if they’re interested.”

“Good luck.” Paslee says.

“Same to you.”

She moves away from the careers, choosing to stand in the back so she isn’t up front near the Capitol trainer. Her mind begins to run, starting slowly and speeding up the more time goes on. Is this the same head trainer that you had nine years ago? What about the people standing at the stations? Or the Gamemakers?

It takes everything in her not to hyperventilate, taking deep breaths through her nose. She’s walking in your shadow, everything she does will be compared to what you had done. Reaping, tribute parade, training score, interview outfits, first day debuts in the arena. It’s beginning to make her sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t have eaten so much this morning.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes before more tributes begin to trickle in. When District Twelve finally shows up and joins the circle, the head trainer is allowed to begin. Alyssum moves forward to see her, now.

Her name is Atala, she’s tall and clearly athletic. She says that each tribute is free to move station to station as they will, but the experts standing at each station aren’t allowed to move. Tributes are also not allowed to fight each other, which is why combat experts are provided if requested. It’s preferred that all items stay in their respective boundaries, but it’s not enforced.

Once the formalities are over, Atala begins going down a list of the stations available. Starting with survival, and moving on to combat. Alyssum can hardly note the names long enough to remember them. By the time Atala’s going down the combat list, Aly’s decided that she’ll just try and go to each station at least once.

Finally, Atala releases them, allowing everyone to move. Alyssum doesn’t move from her spot so that she can see exactly where everyone goes. The Careers, and Paslee, unsurprisingly head towards the weapons. She turns her body away from that direction, although she knows that she’ll have to go over there eventually.

It just leaves all the survival skills, like fire starting.

She knows all of this already, the most she can do is a basic overview of it all. Ten minutes, at the very least, should be enough to refresh her memory. And hopefully the experts can give her new and improved ways of doing things. District Four’s boarding school is very good, you and every other victor have made sure of that. Sometimes the Capitol can pull tricks out of their asses.

So, Alyssum starts with the fires. The expert is clearly delighted, letting her sit around the ring of rocks before beginning. When they ask if Aly has any previous experience with starting fires, or any clue on how to, it’s an easy answer. She lists off three different ways, and demonstrates all three, before moving on to different ideas.

Since she clearly doesn’t need help, the expert settles for small talk. It’s polite, but they dance around questions, obviously wanting to ask them but are too afraid to go through with it. Alyssum gives up some information willingly, she just keeps the personal stuff to herself.

Once she finally grows bored, she bids the expert goodbye, moving on to the next lucky expert that gets to watch her do their job for them. It’s just as she expected, she knows all of these stations already. The most she can do is refresh her memory every couple of minutes.

Until she gives up the rotation entirely and just stands in the middle of the room, hands on her hips while she tries to make her next decision. All of her logic has secured itself on the idea of the weapons, since she hasn’t had full training with them yet. Even in the boarding school, she was only allowed to dabble in it. It was next year, and the year to follow, where she was supposed to fully begin to understand it all.

The problem is that’s where the careers are, where Paslee is. She doesn’t want to just go over there and make it seem like she wants their attention. If anything, she wants to get some practice of her own. All they do is hoard that area and intimidate anyone who thinks of going over, it’s unfair. And they’re supposed to do that all three days.

The only other option she’s seeing is actually settling on the survival stuff, but it’s pretty clear she doesn’t need to.

She takes in a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment, and then begins to make her way on the far side away from the careers. Which starts her at axe practice, a top-heavy weapon that she doesn’t see herself willingly using inside of the arena. She’s not strong enough to lug a weapon like that around the entire time, something smaller--a knife--would be much easier.

The expert straightens when they see her approach, and are more than happy to begin her on basics. Immediately, Alyssum can see her mood uplift as she begins to learn new techniques, thinking that this is what she should have been doing the entire time. She spends a whole hour just testing out different sizes, and swinging them to get a feel for it.

By the time lunch rolls around, she’s learned how to wield an axe, carry heavier weapons, and only touched her toe to the water when it came to the spears. She knows how to throw spears, it’s the one skill that the victors teach at the boarding school for the younger kids, besides the knives. The smaller the items, the easier it is to work. That’s the rule.

It’s pretty obvious right off the bat that Paslee is stuck with the careers now, so she isn’t surprised when he sits with them and completely ignores her. Not a single glance has been offered her way this entire day. If he’s trying to play up an act, he’s doing a good job of it. She’s just hoping that he isn’t trying to shut her out already. She thought that he’d at least give her a chance to join the career pack.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Alyssum gathers up a small plate of food that looks good before taking a seat at an empty table. She watches as the other tributes come into the adjacent lunch room, peeling apart her bread rolls and wondering if any of them are actually brave enough to sit with her. Not because she’s intimidating, or the sister of a victor, but because tributes don’t normally intermix--unless you’re a career.

She almost thinks that’s the case, until Katniss and her tribute counterpart are sitting at the end of her table. She shares a smile with the boy, dipping her spoon into the stew. Alliances are so delicate during the first few beginning days of the week in the Capitol, so it’s hard for her to force herself to speak to them.

“Your parade costumes were amazing,” she says, watching as Katniss looks over suddenly, eyes going over Alyssum. There’s no doubt that she’s sizing Alyssum up in some way, maybe figuring out her lifespan in the games will be. She wouldn’t be the first, and she’s not going to be the last, “I would’ve changed my mind last minute.”

The boy chuckles, “Trust me, I did.”

Katniss gives him a look, and then gives a sheepish smile, “Yeah, me too.”

Alyssum sits a bit taller, “I’m Alyssum.”

“Peeta,” the boy extends his hand, Aly moves to take it, shaking it once, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Katniss.” she holds out her hand too, but it’s not as smooth.

Alyssum’s a lot more gentle, and she ends up turning over Katniss’ hands to take a look at her nails, curious to see what her prep team had done to them. It’s just as she expected, fiery nails, flames of red and orange on a black background.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Peeta.” Alyssum let’s go of Katniss’ hand, moving back to her bowl of soup.

Conversation is light with the two of them, it gets a little awkward at times, but Peeta always manages to find a new topic to start with. No matter what, neither of them ask about you, which she’s a little surprised about. Everyone has been talking about the sister situation, so she’s sure it’s only a matter of time before the tributes are dragged in too.

As soon as lunch is over, Alyssum is the first to say goodbye to Katniss and Peeta, explaining that she wants the weapons that the careers were standing by before lunch. They understand, and she manages to take over the sword station, since the careers were dragging their feet.

She finds out early on that she’s not too shabby with a sword. She just needs a lot of practice, which she has more than enough time to do. The expert is polite, and doesn’t hide the fact that they’re surprised over her missing knowledge. Yes, she’s been excelling at survival skills, there’s no doubt that word has traveled, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be good at combat.

Either way, it’s clear that the careers grow impatient over her learning, and don’t give her anymore space. They move back in as soon as they’re ready to, making her a lot more stiff when it comes to swinging the sword. They’re so close, and she can hear their conversation, which is making her even more uncomfortable. Especially since they’re making bets on who’s going to run to the cornucopia, and making hypothetical kills with said tributes.

It all goes downhill once her name is mentioned.

Alyssum stops, sweat running down her temples as she looks over to the group. The girl from Two, the fifteen year-old who volunteered, is looking right at her with a dangerous smirk. The boy with her is also giving the same look.

Paslee glances over his shoulder. Alyssum slams the sword tip-down into the ground, knuckles turning pale from how hard she grips the other end.

“She’s only twelve, she’ll be dumb enough to run into the cornucopia,” the Two girl repeats, “And she’ll be the first I kill.”

Alyssum straightens, “Who says you’ll even be able to get your beefy hands on me?” her eyes wander down, face twisting, “Or that you’ll run fast enough.”

Two girl squints her eyes, starting forward. Alyssum keeps her stance, raising her chin a little when the girl comes close. Two girl is taller than she is, and she’s a lot bigger too. Alyssum knows exactly what you’d say to her right now, and it’s that she’s picking a fight she can’t win, one that’ll bite her in the ass later on.

However, Alyssum is part of the Gallows family, and she’ll dig her own grave if it means to defend the name.

“Say it again.”

“You heard me the first time.” Alyssum snaps, hand tightening around the sword, “If you can’t take the heat, don’t play with fire.”

The girl goes to open her mouth, but she’s stopped when Atala appears, clearly here to mediate.

“What’s going on?”

“Friendly banter.” Alyssum smiles, and then looks at Two girl, eyebrows raised, “She was just telling me how she’s going to kill me during the bloodbath. And I was just about to tell her that I’ll kill her in her sleep just like how my older sister killed Allio during her Hunger Games.”

Two girl jerks, Atala steps in-between before there’s an actual conflict. Alyssum dumps her sword in the bin by the station.

“That’s enough, stay away from each other.” Atala warns.

“If you’re going to get territorial again in the future,” Aly starts, beginning to move toward the door, going to leave early, “you might as well piss on the floor, bitch.”

Two jerks again, it takes two experts to hold her back this time. Alyssum doesn’t turn around after she leaves. It isn’t until she steps into the hallway, does she realize how jittery she is. The amount of adrenaline that must have been going through her body… for a second she had herself convinced that she was going to swing the sword. And she would have, if it had gotten any uglier.

She punches the elevator button, shaking her hands while she waits. She needs to tell you and Finnick before Paslee does, just so he doesn’t get the details fucked up. He might try to cut corners to save the relationship between you two and him, since being on good terms with mentors is an important factor.

The elevator ride is short, and so is the walk to the apartment. By the time she gets inside, she feels considerably better, no longer as shaky, and her body has lost the heat factor. When she walks inside, she’s able to see that Finnick and Elysia are standing together, talking.

Their conversation falters when they both see Alyssum.

Elysia immediately checks her watch, confused, “You aren’t supposed to be back for another hour and a half.”

All it takes is Finnick looking over her once to realize that something isn’t right, “What happened?”

“Got in a fight with one of the careers, and Paslee didn’t do anything to prevent it.”

Elysia’s eyes widen, hurrying over, “Did they touch you? How much trouble are you in?”

“Atala stopped it before we got physical, but I said something after she told us to stop so…”

“Tell me the entire story.” Finnick says.

Alyssum does, trying to be as transparent as possible, but it gets difficult at the end, especially when she starts telling Finnick about the conversation the careers were having right before. He slowly starts getting more angry, Elysia is more stressed than anything. It isn’t until the story is over, does Alyssum get the idea that the situation is worse than she thought it was.

“Well,” Finnick sighs, looking up to the ceiling, “You definitely left an impression.”

“Not the one you wanted me to, though.” Aly frowns, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, placing his hands on the back of his neck, “You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m hoping the Gamemakers at least watched. That might do some good for your score.”

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Alyssum asks.

“Sleeping, but I guess we should wake her up.” Finnick bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll stay out here in case Paslee shows up.” Elysia says, “Make sure he doesn’t go far.”

“Thanks,” Finnick nods, and then jerks his head for Alyssum to follow him, “Do you have an alliance, at least?”

“I sat with Katniss and Peeta during lunch, they’re pretty nice. Didn’t talk to them much.”

“That’s good, try not to make any more enemies, okay?”

Alyssum gives him a funny smile, “No promises.”

BERCEUSE IS A SPIN-OFF //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @itsanantonia / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld /

#ilguna #berceuse #berceuse chapter two #halcyon

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hes-writer · 5 years ago

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Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs.

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3)

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend. A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body.

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again.

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class

#harry styles one shot #harry styles #masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #patreon exclusive #harry styles smut

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bulkyphrase · 4 years ago

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Everybody & the Avengers Team

I've got a new fic rec list for you!

The stories in the "X & the Avengers Team" tags focus on one person's relationship to the Avengers team as a whole. Courtesy of AO3's tag browse and Excel, here's a ranked list of the top 20 most popular pairings:

Tony Stark | 2470 total, 240 OTP

Peter Parker | 2255 total, 85 OTP

Steve Rogers | 602 total, 56 OTP

Loki | 387 total, 26 OTP

Natasha Romanov | 308 total, 35 OTP

Clint Barton | 268 total, 46 OTP

Bruce Banner | 244 total, 15 OTP

Thor | 209 total, 7 OTP

Avengers Team | 174 total, 24 OTP

James "Bucky" Barnes | 156 total, 7 OTP

Wanda Maximoff | 143 total, 4 OTP

Phil Coulson | 105 total, 9 OTP

Darcy Lewis | 91 total, 6 OTP

Matt Murdock | 60 total, 8 OTP

Sam Wilson | 53 total, 5 OTP

Nick Fury | 41 total, 5 OTP

Harry Potter | 40 total, 0 OTP

Pepper Potts | 31 total, 1 OTP

Vision | 29 total, 2 OTP

Stiles Stilinski | 25 total, 0 OTP

In chart form, if you like charts:

Notes:

The numbers after the names are the number of stories tagged with that ship. OTP means the number of stories where that is the only relationship tagged on the story. Numbers are accurate as of July 2021.

Story Recommendations

For your reading pleasure, included below is at least one fic rec for each pairing except the crossovers from non-Marvel fandoms (apologies to Mr. Potter & Mr. Stilinski). Most are gen fic, and even in the ones with a romantic pairing, romance is not the focus.

Tony Stark

As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration by petroltogo (Teen, 8949) tumblr: @tonystarktogo

Standing inside his penthouse, listening to Rogers, Barton and Banner explain to Fury how they just happened to stumble over the Tesseract on a routine security check of Stark Tower’s roof and wouldn’t you know, they’ve managed to fight off the looming alien invasion before it could really start and secure the missing overpowered nightlight is one of the most surreal situations Tony has ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Peter Parker

the worst field trip ever by shrill_fangirl_screaming (Teen, 3420) tumblr: @i-am-having-an-emotion

"We're on a field trip," Peter said. "To here. And Tony decided to be our tour guide and absolutely embarrass me, so can you please help get him under control?"

Which is how Peter Parker, architect of his own destruction, ended up with not one but two superhero pseudo-dads being annoying on his school field trip.

Steve Rogers

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (Teen, 11022) tumblr: @galaxythreads

That seems about right. He doesn't know how he knows that, though. He does have vague memories of an annoyed fondness at finding peanut butter in some sort of jam. Thor's doing, because he doesn't see the point of using two knives when one works just as fine. He knows that. How does he know that? He knows all those little details, though, almost innately. How can he know these strangers so deeply?

Everyone else below the cut!

Loki

Proprietary by TheThirdMarauder (Teen, 7639)

No, Loki simply wants the Avengers conquered. The details of whom, how, and when matter not. Unless, of course, said details interfere with Loki's plans. Then, well, then none can fault him for protecting his own interests.

Loki has always been exceptionally good at lying to himself.

Natasha Romanov

What Girls Are Made Of by enigma731 (Teen, 4613) tumblr: @enigma731

She rolls her eyes but does as he’s indicated, using his shoulders to leverage herself up onto his back, her arms around his neck and her legs hugging his waist.

“You know,” he says blithely, “this isn’t really what I tend to picture when I think of a hot girl riding me.”

Natasha groans, deciding that if his sense of humor gets them arrested, she’ll kill him herself. “Just go.”

Clint Barton

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (Teen, 4221)

With a normal person, this might count as blackmail material, but a) this is a case of mutually assured destruction if ever there was one, and b) Fury is immune to embarrassment. Not just in the regular, Tony Stark way, either, oh no. Things that could possibly end up being embarrassing to Fury get somehow warped and changed until they go from mortifying all the way over into useful and/or good for his image. It’s like a superpower.

Carrying Clint’s small child self around on his shoulders more than once has probably already hit the interagency rumour mill as an example of Fury’s innate awesomeness: good with rocket launchers and small children.

Also available as a podfic!

Bruce Banner

They're Not Wrong by Trumpeteer34 (Teen, 10163)

As Tony began to pace around the hole in the road to keep himself from shooting repulsors at the nearby buildings in a fit of rage, Thor began to study the nearby area. There was no sign of either the Hulk or Bruce Banner beyond the crater. The surrounding area, aside from the rubble of the fight, held no clue as to their friend’s location.

“Guys, he’s gone,” Tony growled into the communicator on their private line, drawing Thor out of his darkening thoughts. “Someone tranqed him and took him. He’s gone.”

Honorary mention goes to the Responsible Science series by @letteredlettered - the stories don’t have the "Avengers Team & Bruce Banner" tag, but they could, and they are amazing. The best Bruce Banner writing I've ever come across.

Thor

Fortunately, I Am Mighty by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 3062)

Steve was the first one to speak. “Are you okay?”

Thor nodded. Which was a bad idea, as it turned out, because now there were little gray lights flashing in front of his eyes. “I’m fine.” Absolutely everyone narrowed their eyes, and he added, “But, uh. Could we possibly not get back in the car just yet?”

Avengers Team

Civil Wasn't by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 7123)

"We're having an ideological conflict here," Tony stated with disbelief. "Are you telling me you still want to go out to dinner?"

"It's a standing engagement, Tony," Rhodey reminded him.

"Not you too—"

"We already had to reschedule from Friday when Natasha was..." Rhodey frowned. "What were you doing?"

The question was directed toward Natasha, who shrugged and said, "Spy stuff."

James "Bucky" Barnes

You Know How I Feel, aka, The Adventures of Bucky and Muffy the Dinosaur by ifeelbetter (Not Rated, 4511) tumblr: @ifeelbetterer

“As you may have heard, Bucky Barnes, a.k.a. The Winter Soldier, recently rescued a tiny part-robot dinosaur during the Avengers’ battle with Dr. Doom in Antarctica,” the other newscaster explained. “Pictures of Barnes and the dinosaur were posted on twitter by fellow Avenger, Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, and immediately made Barnes’s new pet America’s sweetheart.”

“Her name’s Muffy,” said Steve."

Wanda Maximoff

and the woman was young again by Mira_Jade (General, 3669)

Tony Stark called them the Cap's Kooky Quintet, and sometimes the term amused her – causing her to lift a sardonic brow where someday a smile would truly smile. She enjoyed the presence of comrades – true comrades – and she enjoyed the way their minds wove and bound together about each other to fluctuate against her senses as one. There was something soothing about being in their midst, and even when their loud and brash ways – their painful Americaness - rubbed her raw and drained on her, it was ever the knitting of their minds that soothed those moments over, and made them inconsequential.

Phil Coulson

Coulson's First Day of School by storiesfortravellers (Teen, 3055)

Coulson looked up at him. “I like drawing pictures with Mr. Rogers. I like having tea parties with Ms. Potts. I like it when Dr. Banner reads me books, and I like it when Natasha teaches me things. And I like when you play with me. You do really good voices when we play action figures. And you’re the only one who lets me do stuff like jump off the high diving board at the pool or eat three cupcakes or play tackle with kids at the park.”

Clint didn’t realize that. He was pretty sure that meant that he was doing something wrong.

Darcy Lewis

Beginner Yoga for Dummies (Darcys) and Sad Hobos by chailover (Teen, 3434)

Darcy had a theory: crazy attracted crazy, working kind of like gravity. It was pretty much her explanation for her life after Thor. And if she had thought the type of crazy Thor attracted was bad, be it Loki or the Warrior Three and Sif, or the dark elves and the Convergence, it was still nothing against what the Avengers manage en masse.

Matt Murdock

Double Blind by smilebackwards (Teen, 2381) tumblr: @smilebackwards

Stark snaps his fingers. “You can’t see half of my inventions. This explains so much about you and why you’ve never been properly impressed by me.”

“Does it?” Matt says, ambiguously.

Sam Wilson

Bystander by scribblemetimbers (Teen, 52029)

“I just want you to know,” Sam says loudly, cautiously raising his hands, “That I’m very poor and very sleep-deprived and literally the only thing you can kill me for right now are my notes.” He pauses. Wait. On second thought: “Please don’t steal my notes.”

“I’m not—I’m not a mugger,” Not Mugger rasps out, and for all that he looks about to keel over and die, the man actually manages to sound offended.

Nick Fury

Bedtime Story by dixiehellcat (Teen, 2532) tumblr: @deehellcat

Fury snorted. “I have to check in with the duty officer. I’ll be back in, let’s say twenty minutes. I expect all of you to have whatever your pre-bedtime routines are completed, and be in here pajama’ed and ready to be read to.”

He tapped the book under his arm, then left with the usual dramatic swish of his long coat. Bruce scratched his head. “Did…he just say be ready to be read to?”

Pepper Potts

Pepper and the Avengers (Which She Knows Nothing About) by rebelmeg (General, 6696) tumblr: @rebelmeg

The Avengers, that mismatched group of hurt and heroism, was one of the most important things in Tony Stark’s life. So, naturally, Pepper had made them an important part of her life too.

Vision

039. Intoxicated by aimmyarrowshigh (Teen, 100) tumblr: @aimmyarrowshigh

It might be nice to fit in, just this once. To lose a bit of composure.

Vision floated over to the refrigerator and, with some timidity, pulled off a magnet. He stuck it to his forehead.

#marvel fic rec

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee is Delicious

Hubert x reader

Mentions of fighting/battles/death Coffee beans are mutilated

Your heart is pounding strong and steady as you continue to develop and perfect your lance skills while mounted on the back of your Pegasus. All members of the Black Eagles Strike Force hone their skills constantly, never knowing when they will be called to battle against their enemies. Rising with the sun, you consume a hearty protein filled breakfast followed immediately by sweat laden muscle building exercise. Allowing a brief cooldown while you drink plenty of water to compensate your body for the fluid loss, you then spar and develop your lance techniques.

Lunch is spent socializing with your friends as best you can. Mostly you observe them, too shy to comment or draw attention to yourself. Watching everyone laugh at Caspar’s antics, nodding while all are complimenting Dorothea on her latest opera performance, and hiding your snickers as they give Linhardt a difficult time for just being his obnoxious self.

The next several hours are invested in your magical development. Practicing lower level spells, learning new spells, building your casting abilities and increasing your focus and concentration. Next you are sprinting to the stables for Pegasus or horseback riding. Finally, you clean up, have a light dinner and spend time with friends, or continue research.

If you check the dictionary for the word Shyness, there is a picture of you hiding behind a book and Bernie hiding behind you. Carrying on a conversation with a single person is manageable for you. A war council meeting with 10 or more people? You can manage to be present at the meeting. Participation is out of the question. Entering the room, you take a seat, placing your hands and notebook in your lap. Visibly above the table only your eyes and head move to the direction of the person speaking. Copious amounts of notes fill the pages of the notebook. Thoughts, perceptions, even recommendations on how to carry out tasks that are brought up at the meeting. After a meeting one day when the only two remaining in the room consist of you and Hubert, he asks to see your notes. He is quite aware of your hesitancy to address a group.

“These are excellent observations. Why did you not bring them up during the meeting?” The dark mage inquires, already knowing the answer.

“I, uh, did not want to interrupt. I just…” your voice fades to silence and you can only focus on your notebook on the table.

“May I suggest that you sit next to me during tomorrow’s meeting.” Hubert begins, “If you will allow me to discretely view your annotations, I will offer your thoughts in such a way that no attention or scrutiny will be directed towards yourself.”

“Sure.” You shrug. Not that you would ever disagree with him. You have heard Emperor Edelgard state too many times that Hubert is an extension of herself and any order or direction from him is the same as if she had proclaimed it herself.

Hubert rises and dismisses you. Skittering to your room you drop your book, fall lengthwise on the bed, smash your pillow into your face and scream. Hubert, your crush, noticed you. He appreciates some of your observations and you are invited to sit next to him. It takes you a few minutes to get your breathing under control and the flush to fade from your face.

Quickly throwing on your sparring garb, you run out to meet with Ferdinand for lance practice. Both of you obtain a healthy, challenging workout as he also educates you on the finer points of his presentation that he had made during the council meeting. You actively banter with him, bringing up some notable flaws and considerations which he appreciates and will review your logical points.

The Strike Force is embroiled in a particularly rough battle close to the Oghma Mountains. The air is cooler there to begin with, however with it being Guardian Moon with temperatures below freezing, the winds tear through your clothes like frozen daggers of ice as you fly on your Pegasus. The close knit group is responding to the reports of a large quantity of enemy forces entering into Varley territory.

Your coal black steed swoops low, hooves barely clearing the ground as you direct your lance into the chest of an enemy cavalier. Just as the winged steed is directed to head back into the skies, an enemy mage strikes with a flash of purple light blinding your vision. An experienced flier such as yourself should have no problem hanging on, however the frigid temperatures combined with flying at dizzying heights and speeds have allowed the unforgiving chill of the weather into your limbs, your hands too numb to firmly grip your saddle, you are thrown from the back of your steed. The screams of dying soldiers the last thing you hear before you lose consciousness.

There is no camp as they planned to arrive, fight, and return. The Empire’s Elite forces decide to detour further into Varley territory, where roads are better constructed and Inns are not too difficult to find.

You are carried from the field after the battle concludes. The healers asses your condition. A concussion and aftereffects of being struck by black magic. Your resistance has greatly improved since the academy days and you will recover without any permanent damage.

Traversing the fields and undeveloped countryside on horseback is slow because several riders have to double up. Ferdinand offers to carry your unconscious form, however he has injuries of his own to care for. Hubert mounts his mages warhorse and is assisted with securing your unconscious form in front of him. He wraps his large cape around the both of you to assist in conserving warmth between you. Your Pegasus is given to another rider more accustomed to traversing at great heights, they scan the countryside and lead the way to safety.

The exhaustion from battle washes over everyone as they ride with little conversation heading east, eagerly anticipating a warm meal and soft bed for the evening.

Hubert checks your positioning, your back leaned up against his chest, your cheek pushed tight against his sternum.

A soft voice mumbles from within his cape. “Yumm. Smells so good. Coffee.”

The hand around your waist shifts slightly. “Shhh. Rest. You have a concussion.”

You snuggle closer to him in your haze. “Hubert’s voice is so deep and sexy. Mmmm.”

The dark mage’s eyes cast about him, nobody appears to be close enough to hear you but him.

The horse jostles you both as it steps into a dip of the ground and he tightens his grip around your waist.

“I want to have coffee with him. Stare into his gorgeous chartreuse eyes. Delicious.” You murmur.

The troops finally meet up with the road, the travel now much quicker with even ground for the horses to traverse. Hubert rooms with the Emperor while you are in a room with Linhardt and a few other injured soldiers.

You arise quite early in the morning, having slept through much of the ride here. Running down to the stables you check your Pegasus, relieved that he is quite healthy. Heading back inside you grab breakfast and a large coffee, finding a quiet corner to sit and try to recall what happened that led you to finding yourself here.

A few others of your group are scattered about the room. You half-listen in on their conversations. You take your dishes back to the counter and obtain a refill. As you return to your seat, you are followed by Hubert.

“Might I join you?” he requests as he stands across the table.

“Absolutely.” You quietly answer as he takes the seat across from you. The coffee is too hot to drink, you wrap both hands around the cup, warming your fingers nicely.

“Are you feeling better today?” Hubert asks, bringing his drink to his lips for a sip.

Your eyes are riveted on his. You realize that you are gazing at him far too intensely, suddenly you’re looking away and breaking out in an embarrassing blush. “Yes. A bit of a headache. I feel much warmer. I recall the cold was getting the best of me. I should have stayed on the ground when my fingers started becoming numb. I hope I did not cause any major problems.” Bringing your cup to your lips, the coffee is still boiling hot. How can he drink it like that?

“Not at all.” He smiles, taking another sip.

The room begins to fill with the rest of their group. Linhardt sits next to Hubert, placing his plate filled with sweet rolls and cup of tea onto the table. “I can’t wait to get back and get some proper sleep.” The healer frowns. “Someone talks in their sleep and wouldn’t stop rambling about coffee all night long.” The cleric’s green eyes drill holes into you. You weakly smile as you raise your cup to cover your face and hide behind it. You sort of know you talk in your sleep, but this is the first time someone understood what you said. Mostly you were told you mumble. Just another reason to hide away and keep to yourself.

The journey back to Enbarr is uneventful and quiet. Your Pegasus is not exactly thrilled to be grounded most of the way back, however the weather is cold and you do not wish to be chilled so soon again. Arriving home, you slip back into your regular routine, working on your muscles and skills. The weather is cold, wet and dreary, you must forgo riding for several afternoons.

Heading to the kitchen you decide a cup of coffee would be the perfect warmup on this chilly day. As you enter the always busy room, the cooks are bustling about, preparing the meat and vegetables for the next meal. As you finish preparing your drink, pouring it through a clean cloth filter, Hubert arrives to obtain yet another cup of his favorite caffeinated beverage. With too many people around you don’t speak, but you do wave to greet him.

“Afternoon.” The dark haired mage grumbles. “The weather is cold and miserable. Best for staying indoors by a warm fire.”

You nod slowly, gripping your cup firmly.

“There is a decent fire in the library should you need further assistance in combating the weather’s chill.” He says before the noise of grinding his coffee beans makes talking impractical.

You nod as you leave, heading to your room.

You mull over Hubert’s suggestion to sit by a warm fire instead of freezing under your blanket in your cold and damp room. Summoning your courage, you decide it is to your benefit to seek a warmer location while you are studying, no matter who or how many others may be occupying the room. Turning the corner to where the fireplace is located in the library, you are surprised that only Hubert is here, occupying one of the more comfortable chairs in the room. The smell of the burning hardwood fills the room, adding to the warmth of the blazing flames. The other occupant does not raise his head from his reading as you sink into an overplush chair that comfortably hugs you. The upholstery is warm, immediately making you feel secure and relaxed. Placing your still warm coffee cup on the arm of the chair you open your reading material to where the bookmark holds your place. Concentrating on your book, you only raise your eyes to reflect on a particular passage or to imagine the depths and runes of the spell you are studying.

Reading a particular dark magic spell you look to the other spellcaster in the room. Your mind conjures up the last time you observed him cast this spell, perfect concentration reflected in his face. His posture is immaculate, leaning slightly forward, his right arm fully extended creating the runes consummately while his voice deeply and powerfully orders the incantation. The purple luster of magic gathering in front of him, quickly growing in magnitude and power as the spell bursts forth, striking and eliminating the enemy. Unconsciously you let out a sigh of awe.

“Pardon?” suddenly his eyes are focused on you, his brows raised.

“Your spellcasting is fabulously perfect.” The words are out of your mouth before you realize you had said them out loud. Your cheeks burn with the heat of a blush as you desperately resist the urge to bury your face in the pages before you.

“Thank you.” He muses.

Both parties return to their reading, the only sound in the room is the occasional page turning and the popping and crackling of the fire.

A throat clearing ahead of you draws your attention from your book.

“Should you wish to further your development of your reason magic skills, I humbly offer my assistance.” Hubert proposes for your consideration, not looking up from his reading.

“To increase my abilities aiding the cause toward our Emperors victory, I accept your proposition.” You smile widely.

There is the slightest smile that flashes across Hubert’s lips that you are thrilled to bear witness to.

Hubert joins you in the spellcasting section of the training grounds when he finds the time. Your stomach flips every time he touches you to correct your arm position, your stance, standing behind you to watch your rune manipulation. By the time he leaves to head to his next appointment you are tomato red and breathless.

Today is one of your longer learning sessions and quite productive. After dinner, you decide to retire to the Library to procure a book Hubert recommends that covers additional spells and manipulation of runes. The two comfy chairs are taken by others, thus you make do with alternate seating on the couch that faces the fireplace directly. Placing your coffee cup on the end table you open the tome and become immediately immersed in its contents. The other occupants of the Library leave without your notice.

Hubert greets you as he enters the room. Taking a seat on the other end of the couch, he places his coffee on the end table, opens his book and begins reading.

After reading quietly for nearly an hour you are deep into the section dissecting rune manipulation and you find there are a few passages that are not quite make sense to you. You stop to take a sip of your now very cold coffee, nearly choking on the nasty liquid.

Hubert looks over to you. “Are you all right?”

“Cold coffee.” You stammer and catch your breath. “Actually, I have a question about this section here…” You say, holding the book between you, scooting a bit closer to him as you point out the section. The dark haired mage slides next to you so that you both can review the passage. He carefully explains the runes, their order and how the instruction of the manipulation contributes to the verbal incantation thus giving the magical energy and power to the spell.

Everything suddenly clicks. Smiling brightly in your frenzied joy, you turn to Hubert and give him a peck on his cheek.

Your gasp as your eyes go wide as realization hits you regarding your most recent action.

Hubbert’s gloved fingers gently grasp the side of your jaw, turning your face toward him again. “I think you meant…” he hums as his lips gently meet yours in a soft kiss. You grab his lapels, keeping your lips pressed together until you find the need to breathe again.

He slides his arm around your shoulder as you lean into his chest.

Hubert presses his lips to the crown of your head. “I find you delicious as well.”

#fe3h #Fire Emblem Three Houses #feth #fe3h x reader #hubert von vestra #FE16 hubert von vestra

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years ago

Text

THE STORM - Part sixteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

The Night of the Infiltration

While she’d spent the night dissecting her and Noir’s relationship, she rose from bed the next morning with a clear head. With a long night ahead, she could not afford any distractions. At work, her and Martha chatted, and the blonde attempted to gauge her friend’s state of mind. She seemed steady, focused and—well, normal. Nothing seemed to affect her or frustrate her in the least that day. Not the printer not working, or her computer experiencing technical issues. She didn’t mind the terribly long line in the cafeteria and didn’t seem to care when her papers were misplaced by the office mailman. She was utterly impassive.

Martha worried, even though these were all positive signs. If she’d seen Sarah growing evermore nervous and angry, she’d have pulled the plug. Her being impassive meant she had better control over her more violent emotions.

And soon, people began to gather their things and leave.

Martha and Sarah also shrugged on their coats, packed their bags, and left the building. Before heading their separate ways, Martha grabbed her hand bringing them to a halt.

“Be careful tonight, okay?”

Sarah nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and looking at the crowd swarming the sidewalks.

“I’m serious,” Martha pressed, “I’ll be ready, and get it done as quickly as possible.”

“I know, I’ll be careful,” Sarah promised.

Martha nodded, satisfied with her answer, and pulled her friend into a tight hug.

She whispered, “Don’t worry, we got this, girl.”

And with a wink, Martha spun around and disappeared into the crowd. Sarah chuckled and turned the opposite way to head home.

An hour before go-time, Sarah could be found arming herself in her home. She steeled herself against rushing, and instead took her time. She had changed into a black suit and packed a small bag with the files and thumb drive she’d need once in the archives.

She wore a black wig with long bangs, since she wouldn’t be able to avoid all the security cameras placed between the back entrance and the archives. The wig would confuse them of her identity since her curly hair was a distinctive aspect of her persona. It would immediately give her away. And pulling her hair into a tight bun was strictly not an option, since pulling her hair back accentuated her features.

The suit had a particularly long turtleneck which she could easily lift over her nose, leaving only the upper part of her face exposed. That paired with the wig would be enough to conceal her identity.

She checked her utility belt and finished fixing a series of knives into their sheaths. A single gun with silencer was strapped to the top of her back where she could easily access it. A set of throwing knives were securely tucked against her calves in the side of her heavy-duty boots.

Looking in the mirror, she approved of the sleek, dark vision that was her reflection. She would be such a dangerous piece in this game against Vought. She would be unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with.

Finally, she settled at her kitchen table and waited for the minutes to tick by, counting down to the moment for action. When the clock struck eleven, she rose and made her way out the back door. Crossing her dimly lit backyard, she hoisted herself over the wooden fence and disappeared into the shadows of the back alleys.

Once she’d made it to Vought’s back entrance, she quickly slipped on the glove she’d gotten from Mallory. It felt odd on her skin, as it was made from a biosynthetic material. As soon as the sensor captured the fingerprints, she quickly shrugged it off and placed it into its protective case, which she then slid back into her bag. She stepped into the elevator and punched the button for level 02.

The elevator rose soundlessly, no music or simple tune to ease the tension. The doors slid open, and she cautiously stepped out. She quickly moved down the hall towards the archives and pressed her back to the wall as she neared the final corner to reach its entrance. At night, there were always a team of guards who made sure there were no break-ins, even though it had never occurred before. Two were placed at the building’s entrance, another two near the R&D sector of the building and one near the archives.

She heard the scuffle of shoes against tiled pavement, and the deep sigh that followed. She pulled out a small mirror and used it to look beyond the corner.

There he was. The guard seemed fit, maybe in his mid-thirties. He was seated and scrolling through whatever had his attention on the tablet he held.

Sarah flipped the mirror shut, storing it away.

She grabbed the baton from her belt and focused on her breathing. At her next exhalation, she moved out into the hall and flipped it in his direction. It hit him straight in the face, and while he raised his hands, she sped towards him, kicking him down.

“what the fu—”

She twisted his arm behind his back, and removed all of his weapons, sliding them out of reach. Finally, she crooked her other arm around his neck and dragged him out of potential cameras’ view.

The radio on the guard’s belt crackled to life, “Hey we heard something down your way. Everything okay?”

She pressed harder on his windpipe. “Answer them. Everything is fine.”

“You bitc—”

“None of that, I’m afraid,” she scolded. “Now tell me,” she questioned with a genuinely curious voice, “Do you care more about this company or your life?”

She felt him go still in her arms, followed by a useless attempt to get out of her hold. She held fast, focusing on the mechanics of her grip rather than brute strength. He could get out of the hold, but to do so he’d have to break his own shoulder. She smirked.

“I’ll repeat myself one more time,” she whispered, “Are you going to give your life for this fucking company tonight?”

Finally, he shook his head no.

“Then tell your buddies you dropped your tablet or some bullshit like that.”

He nodded, and she brought the mic up to his lips.

“Everything’s all right, boys,” he hesitated, “Just dropped my tablet with my dumb ass.”

Some laughs broke through the small device, “Take it easy Jackson.”

She clicked the radio’s mic off, satisfied with his answer.

“Yeah, take it easy Jackson,” she whispered in his ear before effectively knocking him out. She took the key card from around his neck.

Sarah rose and flattened her bangs back into place. Stepping over his body, she walked over to the entrance and swiped the card. Access granted.

She withheld her satisfaction and stepped into the dimly lit space. Closing the door behind her, she switched the lights on.

The room was even larger than she had imagined. Rows and rows of servers occupied the room and shelves with boxes full of files lined the walls. A single desk and computer sat alone at the entrance. She quickly took a seat and searched the index for the items she needed to find.

She searched the applied physiology lab and couldn’t find any match. She ran a hand through the straight black locks of hair, sighing in frustration. The guard would be out for a while, but not long enough for her to search the whole database. She inserted a few more dead-end searches. Finally, an idea struck. She typed in her patient code from when she’d been a part of Vought’s experimental treatment. Surely they kept records of their experiments, trials and advancements.

She struck gold and immediately noted the server code on a small piece of paper. Then she quickly searched for Sarah Burns, immediately finding her file among the Vought employees. She noted her file’s position amid the boxes as well.

She turned the computer off and rose out of her seat, taking a second to figure her way through the maze of servers.

Once she’d found the right one, she recalled Martha’s directions on where to put the thumb drive. Double checking, she plugged it into the right slot and pulled her burner phone out.

She sent a quick text. I’m in.

Not ten seconds later, she’d received an answer. I’m on it.

In the meantime, she made her way towards the employee files, committing the path to memory so that she could later find her way back to the thumb drive.

She found her box and flipped through the different folders held inside. Finally, she reached the one on Sarah Burns. She took the papers out and replaced them with the ones she’d fabricated in their stead. Slipping the originals into her bag, she put the box back in its place.

Turning around, she sped back to the server they were currently hacking.

She checked her phone as she weaved through the columns of devices, wires and switches.

She’d gotten a text. Done.

She sent one back. Ok, I’m going to disconnect.

There were only a few corners left and she’d have the USB, ready to leave the building.

It’s already disconnected.

This immediately made her halt. She gathered her breathing, her already alert state of mind sharpening even further. She wasn’t alone.

If it was the guard, there would be no issue, but if it was a member of the Seven, this room was about to be wrecked. She prayed that it wasn't Homelander.

She inched closer with caution in every step.

She peered around the corner and found the server’s glass door closed with no thumb drive sticking out of it. She wanted to curse but focused instead on the sounds around her. When she heard nothing, no steps, no breathing, she realized someone was watching her, toying with her.

Did they already know? Had they simply been waiting for her to make a move?

Well, at this point they’d caught her red-handed.

That’s when she heard the slightest sound, followed by the movement of air behind her. She spun around, and almost choked.

Noir had jumped down from the top of a server and was now standing in the middle of the corridor. One of his gloved hands was curled into a fist, which without a doubt held the thumb drive she so desperately needed.

Oh God, she thought. This isn’t going to end well.

They stood still, staring, and waiting for each other to make the first move. If he was waiting to see if she’d run, he was going to find himself terribly disappointed. She knew from her data collection with Mallory that he enjoyed a hunt. This would be no predator and prey dynamic.

This was a predator facing another predator over a piece of property. She would not go down easy, nor would she flee like a scared rabbit.

Black Noir observed the darkly clad woman standing across the hallway. She seemed untroubled by his presence and didn’t seem likely to back down. There was a deep-set power to her that he had difficulty pinpointing. She looked like an elastic ready to snap.

Tired of waiting, he took firm steps towards her. Any enemy of Vought was an enemy of his, and Mr. Edgar had given him clear orders. She was to be either detained or eliminated.

As he moved towards her, she held still. She watched him approach, and he almost faltered at the intensity of her gaze, the total lack of fear in her awfully familiar eyes.

The eyes that were blazed in his mind since that night at the gala…

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he focused on the task at hand. As he reached her, he wrapped his fingers around her neck hoisting her off the ground.

Sarah felt the characteristic surge of warmth and energy surge through her chest and outwards through her limbs. She placed her palm against his chest plate, feeling it melt under her touch. Finally, she let go. The sudden transfer of energy sent him flying backwards and through a server which crackled and beeped loudly as it went offline.

Noir stepped out of the wrecked device and looked at her before rushing to the side and slamming her through another server. She literally burnt a hole through the tower and looked back at him through the opening. Sarah almost laughed, immediately hoisting herself up off the pavement. She felt a surge of energy and climbed to the top where he met her.

She took a standard fighting position, ready for anything he’d send her way. It’d been some time since she’d fought, and this would be the first time she’d be challenged by someone of equal strength. There was no holding back here, on either side.

And she’d get the thumb drive back no matter what.

Again, he was the first to move in with a punch aimed straight for her head. Sliding under his outstretched arm, she kicked his knee hard and punched him in the stomach before backing away.

Reaching down, she took a dagger into hand and threw it his way, nicking his cheek. If she’d wanted to she could have sent it flying into his skull, although that too wouldn’t have been enough to stop him. Still, it had been a warning.

The fight went on, equal forces clashing against one another.

But then he caught her in a chokehold that she couldn’t escape. She wouldn’t allow him to end her or put her to sleep and have her captured. There was no way in hell it would all end here, this way.

She focused on her anger, on the pain, on her mother and father’s faces. Her mind conjured butterflies in the air around her and she followed their intricate dances intently. She smelled the smoke, felt the ashes softly coating her cheeks.

As he held her close, slowly cutting off her air supply, Black Noir came to a sudden realization. The sudden whiff of vanilla conditioning cream made him still. Her eyes. Her scent.

And then she let go, and the air around them exploded like a set of bombs.

When the dust settled, and she opened her eyes, she searched for Noir afraid of what she’d find. She found him among the wreckage, lying on his back a hand to his side.

She rushed over and cautiously kneeled beside him. She stayed alert, knowing he could kill her even in an impaired state, be it by a silent dagger or the snap of her neck.

He reached one hand up to her cheek, and she knew he’d connected the dots. Everything would be different now. Her cover was blown.

But then he did something that took her by surprise: one hand slipped into a pocket, and instead of the expected dagger, he extracted a slightly fuming, still intact thumb drive.

He held it up for her to take and signed a simple word. She nodded and squeezed his hand with her own before standing and running away. The blast had destroyed a part of the servers and it had sent the security alarms blaring. Red lights flashed in the corridors she ran down to reach the back entrance she’d used to get in.

Her brain ran even faster, thoughts clouding her senses. Ultimately, she shut them all out. She cleared her mind of everything but the thumb drive in her hand.

She thought back to Noir’s advice, or maybe threat. The one simple word he’d signed.

“Run.”

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #black noir #the boys season 2 #fanfiction #oc story #romance #black noir x oc

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 36: Dobby's Reward

Her ears were still ringing, vision blurry and unmanageable, but still Lily forced herself back to her feet, staggering into something very solid, stone-like. She froze, breathing so harsh it was hurting her chest as she fumbled around now realizing it was true and continued darkness rather than a lack of sight on her part.

She had to keep calm, she kept telling herself. Whatever was beneath her fingers didn't feel human, or snakelike for that matter, but the cold marble surely was one of their group only paralyzed and not truly dead! She was the only one proficient enough in potions to reverse-

"Lumos!" A now all too familiar voice spoke quietly from right behind her, Potter's wand revealing a solid stone wall icy smooth to the touch under her grip, the ceiling hanging low enough over their heads they could reach up and touch it. Small comfort though it was, it helped that the place was dry and stale, small and isolated, the opposite of the endless void like place from before. She turned quickly to the boy holding his wand aloft, eyes quickly scanning their surroundings. She couldn't blame him, though there were no snakes in sight, this place still seemed far too likely to hold more danger. There was nothing distinctive at all about the place, no clue where on earth they could be, and they didn't care, as she did another careful count. There were only seven people present, counting herself.

The Black brothers were still shaking from wet and fright as they sat up carefully, Lupin hovering over them both. Alice and Frank were assisting each other to their feet and keeping their wands aloft. The place was so bare, there was no way she could miss him, yet, "where's Pettigrew? Where's Peter?"

"Here," came the small voice from right behind Potter, still half crouched on the floor and remarkably pale, almost blending into the background. Lily did a double take, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she stared at him, hard, and not entirely in relief, though it was there that he hadn't died back in the Chamber. She swore he hadn't been in this room a second ago.

"Good man Pete!" Potter declared, his voice shaking no matter how hard he tried to hitch a smile onto his face and beam around at everyone. "We all survived, I vote we not go for round two!"

"There is a first time for everything," the elder Black groaned as he took Lupin's hand and let himself be hoisted to his feet, then returned the favor and offered the same to his kid brother. He didn't take it, and hadn't yet moved to more than flip over and rest on his backside, chest still heaving as painfully as hers was.

Potter clapped his friend on the shoulder and helped him to his feet, still giving him a relieved smile Lily couldn't shake. Perhaps he hadn't noticed his friend at first either? She just couldn't shake the idea-

"So where are we now?" Frank demanded, bending down and peeling the book from his shoe.

It was a fair question. Certainly nowhere they recognized, and nothing at all to indicate an answer. The only thing of note was a very sturdy door behind them the couple and even they had no urge to try at this point. Merlin only knew what was on the other side, and for now there was nothing in here trying to kill them, so they'd take it.

"Who cares," Lupin groaned, hand still on his friend's back as he kept massaging his ribs. "We're not in the Chamber anymore, can we just enjoy this moment." He slumped back against the wall himself and closed his eyes like he was ready for a nap.

Smith returned with something and Longbottom began reading, but Sirius wouldn't even be distracted by whatever Dobby still had to do with this as the chapter title indicted. He crouched down next to his brother and quietly asked, "hey, you okay? You took a nasty hit."

Regulus didn't answer for so long Sirius started to grow worried before he finally got the answer, "it's all a lie."

"Err, yeah, most things in life tend to be," Sirius agreed with baffled chipper, anything to get his brothers eyes to focus, but they weren't. Longbottom had already read through Ginny getting to reunite with her parents and Dumbledore awarding Harry and Ron for this stupid stunt. Everybody was sinking to the floor in exhaustion and looking relieved to just be able to do that for a moment. Yet Regulus still had a look upon his face like at any moment he'd turn his head and find his death.

It wasn't until Dumbledore mentioned Harry likely having some of Voldemort's powers in him that Regulus reacted again, and all he did was flinch and pull his legs into his chest, like the little kid hiding up in the attic refusing to come down until Sirius had promised their parents had stopped fighting.

Sirius could barely fathom himself what all they'd heard, that everything they'd ever been told about the Dark Lord was false. The man, the mortal who claimed to be more, was in fact trying to purge the world based on a big fat lie. Sirius would have laughed under any other circumstances, but apparently his little brother didn't seem to be finding it as funny.

He tried to imagine it from the kids point of view, but the problem was he'd never given in to believing such a thing as what their parents had wanted of the world, what Regulus had readily adopted. He was only fourteen and everything he'd ever known had been shattered, and Sirius was helpless to offer anything because he no longer knew anything about this boy. He knew more about his three best friends than his own brother.

Turning instinctively to them for help, he saw that Moony really was fixing to fall asleep, barely keeping his eyes open and slumped against the wall like he was. The sky above must be housing a moon not long after it was full. Even not having experienced the change with it would cause his friend to feel the exhaustion it should have. James was watching him with a puckered brow and clear worry, but was also taking the time to engage Evans while she was in a sociable mood, apparently living through a life or death situation had put her in a better mood towards him. She hadn't sprinted to the opposite side of the room yet at least, even if she was keeping an arms distance from him and he didn't seem likely to increase that. Peter still looked shell-shocked, which Sirius couldn't blame him for. Wormtail deserved bloody two hundred points to Gryffindor and more for what he'd pulled, he hadn't needed to see the act to hear what was going on and what gave them the chance to get out of that place.

Lucius Malfoy and Dobby arrived back on the scene as some kind of distraction, and that all made a sickening kind of sense as the little house-elf made it perfectly clear what was going on. Sirius was forced to watch again as Regulus recoiled into himself, and he refused to just sit around and let his little brother dwell on all things pure-blood going on around him, so he spit out the first question that came to mind as loud as he could, "speaking of things hiding in plain sight, exactly who was carrying around Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and not sharing such a thing? I mean, I'm not criticizing the use, but come on, that's a rather significant detail to share don't you think!"

Silence for a moment, as everyone looked at everyone else waiting for the crack, until finally the last person Sirius expected to spoke up, "it was mine."

"Where did you get that? Without me knowing about it?!" Sirius demanded of his kid brother.

"Father bought some for me over the summer in Knockturn Alley," Regulus murmured without looking at any of them. He said nothing more, and Sirius bit down on his lip to stop himself demanding more of this explanation. Like why he was carrying it around with him today ( yesterday?) during class.

Alice sensed the awkward silence lingering, and really she didn't want anybody else to ask what else was being hidden on their persons, so cleared her throat awkwardly and spoke up, "well, I think I've sussed out where we might be. I'd hazard a guess this is where Dobby sleeps. Makes sense doesn't it? The Malfoy's would have him down in the dungeons when he wasn't running their house. We seem to pop up wherever something's happening in a person's life to do with the story, apparently it doesn't always have to be Harry."

Nobody argued the point, it made as much sense as the rest of this mess. Lily's hand tightened along her wand in frustration as Malfoy took out his loss of not being able to murder an entire school and a little girl out on Dobby. The chapter title still lingered in her mind, distracting her from everything else now. Dobby may have gone about it in the wrong way, but he certainly did deserve a reward for all he'd tried to do in helping Harry!

Then he got it, and they all worried that somehow Harry had made things incredibly worse. Freeing a house-elf was not in fact a reward at all to those creatures, but the truly baffling part was Dobby's reaction. He actually seemed happy! It made no sense to any of them, from reputation and whispered stories any other house-elf would be having a nervous breakdown. Dobby was all but cheering. None of them could really complain of the development, when it possibly saved Harry's life from a vengeful Malfoy. They all suspected that little critter was going to make another appearance though, how could he not after such an event?

The last really eventful thing was the all around cheer of Hagrid being rightfully returned, and Percy acting like an idiot all year because of a secret girlfriend of all things. Frank reached the end, back to Harry having to go with those bastard Dursley's again, and all anyone could really hope was that they wouldn't be sent to Privet Drive again.

#reading the books #Harry Potter #fanfiction #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #Peter Pettigrew #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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sunarintoes · 5 years ago

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Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst

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