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sl-ut · 2 years ago

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complicated

RESPOSTING BC TUMBLR KEPT MESSING IT UP

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: y/n invites herself on joel and tess’s next smuggling mission, only to realise that she may be in way over her head.

warnings: age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is 56), swearing, reader is kinda angsty in this one, violence, mentions of assault

words: 4.6K

date posted: 06/03/23

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Ellie was an interesting little beast, that much Y/n had figured out fairly quickly. The young girl had quite the mouth on her, and she seemed to really enjoy pissing Joel off–which put her even more in Y/n’s good books.

She was genuinely surprised that she had been included in this mission, even if they had not initially brought her on for the job. Instead, she had stumbled into Joel’s apartment late in the evening to find her lover out cold on the couch while some young girl flipped through the song book that they usually kept nearby the radio. The young girl had looked equally as startled to see her as Y/n had been, and the older girl’s first instinct to wake Joel was quickly burnt out when she came to the conclusion that she could definitely get more information out of Ellie if she was able to talk to her without Tess or Joel intervening.

Joel appeared to have been caught off guard when he woke up to find Y/n and Ellie laughing amongst themselves, quickly becoming defensive when Y/n asked him when they were going to come find her if she hadn’t shown up, knowing fully well that she already knew that they hadn’t planned on bringing her along. Tess had been just as defensive about it, but nothing would have been able to keep Y/n in the QZ while they went on this mission, and it would be much faster to have just brought her along than to argue about it.

The dynamic between the three adults had been a bit unsteady since the night prior, when Joel had basically blacked out in rage and beat a FEDRA guard to death, as well as the group discovery that Ellie was, in fact, infected. As soon as they had evaded the oncoming authorities, Joel had made quick work of lining up a clear shot to Ellie’s head, only stopped when Y/n took a protective step in front of her and made it clear that he would need to kill her first. Tess had agreed with Y/n, which had both adults freeze from their standoff, waving it off by stating that they would never get their reward if they handed over Ellie’s corpse to the Fireflies.

Y/n was on edge for the remainder of the night, watchful eyes flickering between Ellie as she slept soundly on a patch of moss in some building on the edge of the city, and Joel, who held his gun with his finger ready on the trigger. She had shrugged him off when he’d come over to her, hand falling on her thigh as he encouraged her to go to sleep, and he could tell that he was in trouble with her for more reasons than one.

Y/n was aware that he’d finally stood up for her in some way to Tess; how, she was unsure of, but she had walked in on an argument between the two of them, and based on the fact that it had ended when she walked in, she knew that it had to have had something to do with her and Joel’s relationship–if it could even be called that. She was ecstatic that he had finally stepped up and made it clear to her that she actually meant something to him, and she certainly showed how happy it had made her later that night. Only then, things got much worse.

Joel and Tess had begun actively cutting her out of jobs. Joel tried to assure her that they were things that he didn’t want her dealing with, things that he was taking care of so she didn’t need to. Meanwhile, Tess had switched her method of attack, now preferring very passive aggressive comments, ones that Joel may not necessarily pick up on and that would make sure that any conflict that he was made aware of would always come up on Y/n’s end rather than her own.

Then, there was his continued reluctance to have any form of relationship with her in the public eye. In private, Joel was the kind of guy who liked her close, he wanted her at his side, and he talked to her as any man might speak to his romantic partner. In the morning, he would lead her to the door of his apartment with a hand on her lower back, he would kiss her gently on the lips, and then remove any sort of physical contact the moment that they left the privacy of the apartment.

The final straw was his adamant attitude towards killing Ellie, and even more so how appalled he had been when she had stepped in front of his gun–how he’d been angry with her for refusing to allow him to kill a child.

To be completely fair, he was not exactly angry with her for not wanting to kill her, he was more so angry with her for being angry with him. He was angry with her for watching him in the very same way that he was watching Ellie–like he was a bomb ready to go off, like she couldn’t trust him.

“There’s no logical reason to keep this kid alive, I don’t know why you aren’t seeing that.” He did his best to keep his voice quiet, despite the fact that both Tess and Ellie had already nodded off, “Maybe the bite is old, but sooner or later, she’s gonna be chomping at the bit to tear all three of us apart.”

“I know you don’t necessarily like Marlene, Joel, but she’s not stupid. She wouldn’t have been making this trip for no reason.” Y/n sighed, taking Joel’s hand into her own and running her fingers over his bloody knuckles, “Does that hurt?”

“Like her?” He scoffed, ignoring her question, “Are you forgetting the part where she convinced my brother to join in on her little fever dream and got us into this mess to begin with?”

“Exactly,” Y/n rolled her eyes at him, “Even if you’re right, you need that truck and this is the only way that you’re getting one in the near future. Doesn’t matter what we think, we hand this kid over to the Fireflies and you get on your way to find Tommy.”

He only grunted in response, shifting his eyes back to the teenager as she silently wrapped his hand in a strip of gauze from the small first aid kit that she’d brought along. No more words were shared over the remaining hours of darkness, both too proud to break the silent treatment first.

For once, Y/n was thankful for Joel’s loyalty to Tess, considering that the vote was now two-to-one, in favour of not killing the fourteen-year-old that was placed in their care (though Y/n was sure that she really didn’t have a vote in the situation to begin with). The small group quickly made their way out into the open city, after Joel, Y/n, and Tess all watched in envy as Ellie scarfed down a chicken sandwich, of course.

Ellie was truly testing the personal restraints of both Joel and Tess, taunting them with sarcastic remarks at every opportunity, even within the first few moments of her consciousness, scowling as Joel cocked his gun at her and letting out an exasperated, do I look infected? Y/n had quickly become her favourite of the three, solely based on the fact that she actually laughed at her jokes; the fact that she had threatened to take a bullet for her only made Ellie like Y/n more and Joel like Ellie less. To be fair, Y/n was actually closer in age to Ellie than she was to Joel and Tess, and they’d both grown up in the QZ, giving them some very similar experiences to talk about.

The path through Boston to the Capitol building was a meticulous one. While the city would have been fairly easy to navigate twenty years prior, old buildings had fallen and certain streets had become so overgrown that it was physically impossible to move through them. The walk was long, but more enjoyable than the last time that Y/n had been in the city due to the non-stop rambling of the fourteen-year-old girl walking alongside her.

“Where the fuck are they already?” Ellie whined, glancing around rapidly in hopes of catching a distant sighting of some infected.

Y/n shrugged, “They don’t usually stay in one particular area, but you’ll know it when they’re getting close.”

“I didn’t know last time.”

Tess glanced over her shoulder, “How did you get bit?”

“You know that old mall in the QZ?”

“The one that’s sealed off and boarded up and no one’s supposed to go in…ever? That one?”

Ellie rolled her eyes at the condescending tone, “Whatever. I snuck in. Wanted to see what it was like, I didn’t think there would be anything in there, and then one just came at me out of nowhere. Thought I got away, but…”

“You went in there alone?” Y/n raised an eyebrow.

Ellie hesitated before shrugging her shoulders, “Yeah.”

Tess halted, turning to face the pair behind her, “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Joel as he came up behind her. They had both continued to give each other the silent treatment, though every once in a while one would catch the other looking, or one of them would move to help the other. Pride was quite literally the last thing that either of them had in this world, and neither of them were going to give up so easily.

“Wow,” Tess sighed, “Well, you’ve got some balls on you, sister.”

“Really,” Y/n added, nudging her with her elbow, “Fuck, I’m too chicken shit to even go outside after curfew.”

Ellie fought the smirk that threatened to crawl onto her face, clearly happy to have impressed both women, “Thanks.”

Ellie and Tess took the lead, and Y/n could already tell what was coming as Joel’s footsteps grew louder.

“You shouldn’t get attached to her,” He grunted, “We’re not making friends, this is a job.”

She scoffed, “There’s a pretty big difference between getting attached and being a decent human being.”

He shook his head, “I just don’t want you getting your hopes up over this. I mean, this whole thing is fucking crazy–how many times have we heard about some cure over the last few years?”

“Getting my hopes up,” She repeated breathily, “Sorry for having a conversation with the first person who has actually wanted me around in the last twenty-four hours.”

Joel paused, “You know that’s not–”

“I love that you just always assume that I magically know things that aren’t fucking obvious, Joel,” Y/n shook her head, using every ounce of restraint to keep herself from raising her voice, “Tell me, what exactly was the plan? I obviously wasn’t welcome on this mission, so you were just gonna disappear without so much as telling me?”

“There was no plan, we’d just gotten her from Marlene when you showed up,” Joel answered, “Promised us supplies to look for Tommy if we took her.”

“So, if I hadn’t shown up when I did, you and Tess would have left the QZ, and then taken off to where–fucking Wyoming? Jesus Christ, Joel, did you ever even think to consider where that would leave me?”

She took his silence as a fairly blatant answer, chuckling to herself as she sped up, putting several feet of distance between them before he took note of the tears that had welled up in her eyes; the last thing that she wanted was for him to actually see how much it had affected her.

Ellie glanced over at her as she caught back up, eyes squinting at her, then flickering back to Joel, “Are you okay?”

Y/n nodded, forcing a small smile onto her lips as she continued on, not another word leaving her lips for the rest of the walk.

The hotel was a very pretty sight; various types of vegetation had taken over the lobby while several different types of animals took advantage of the protection of the swampy area. Y/n wanted to enjoy the sight, but the smell was so pungent and revolting that she simply couldn’t. Had the water been mostly rainwater, it may have been alright, but considering that most of the water had come from a burst pipe in the ceiling, the area was left smelling of mildew and the remains of whatever waste might have been left from twenty years ago. The only part of having to go to the hotel that she may have enjoyed was the fact that the stairwell was but an inconvenience to her, while Tess was always completely out of whack once they had reached the top. It was the one thing that she could hold over her, and she would be damned if she wasn’t going to enjoy it.

Y/n had never been so disappointed with Tess’s absence before, leaving her alone with Joel, who watched her with a hawk-like gaze, and Ellie, who was most certainly not ignorant to the tension hanging in the air around them and had begun to nervously fidget with her switchblade.

Turning his gaze away from Y/n for a beat, he broke the silence as he watched Ellie begin to flip the blade in the air, “Nice knife. Where’d you learn to do that?”

Ellie scarcely spared him a glance, “The circus.”

Y/n tried her best to cover the wheeze of laughter that escaped her as a cough, though she was certain that it had been entirely fruitless.

Ellie sighed, flipping her blade closed, “Where are you both from?”

Y/n shrugged, “Not far from here.”

Joel hesitated before sighing his answer, “Texas.”

“What about Tess?”

“Detroit, it’s in Michigan.”

“I go to school, I know where Detroit is,” Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, glancing towards Y/n before asking her next question, “So you and her, are you two like a–”

“Pass,” Joel met Y/n’s eyes, almost as if he were offering the answer to her instead. He was beginning to get the idea that, if Ellie was asking the same questions that Y/n had, maybe she hadn’t been in the wrong for asking him for affirmation.

“And you two?”

“Pass,” Y/n cut in, her voice firm and cold. Joel winced at her words, returning to his goal of getting her to meet his gaze once more.

“Okay…” Ellie trailed off, “How’d you end up in Boston?”

“Pass,” Joel answered again, “No more questions about me.”

Ellie dropped her head with a deep sigh before firing her next question, “How long do infected live?”

Joel mocked her, “Oh, I thought you went to school.”

“It’s a really shitty one.”

Joel nodded, “Some last about a month or two, but there’s others that have been walking around here for twenty years.”

“You ever kill one?”

Y/n could tell that Joel was quickly growing tired of these questions–the young girl had more energy and attitude than anyone that the middle-aged man had been forced to deal with in the past five years at the very least. Y/n was probably next in line, but even she didn’t hold a torch to Ellie.

Y/n dropped her gaze to the floor beneath her as she sat criss-cross against the wall. Her fingers traced the patterns in the wood, careful to not give herself any splinters as she picked at the old wood. In all honesty, if she were to die in a freak accident, an infection via splinter certainly beats being ripped apart by cordyceps.

Joel jumped to his feet as groaning came from the room behind them, gun cocked and ready to shoot as Tess called out to him, “Put the fucking gun down, Joel.”

The straight path was blocked by dozens of infected, all thrashing violently against the pavement in a hypnotic rhythm. Y/n hadn’t seen anything like that before–hell, the only times that she left the QZ was to visit Bill and Frank, and the infected seemed to be quite scarce on that route. With no other option, Joel led the group to the museum, which stood as their only chance of reaching the Capitol building.

Y/n had never actually dealt with many infected before, which was something that she had quite often forgotten about. Even before she had lived in the QZ, she was far too young to have fought any off, and the few times that she’d gotten to leave the QZ, the journey was more often than not quite uneventful. She never truly understood how little she actually knew about these things until she had overheard Ellie’s pestering about them; anything that she knew would have come from either her brother, who wouldn’t have known much himself, or from Joel and Tess, who weren’t too keen on recounting their runs when they arrived back.

From the little that she had actually dragged out of the man, Y/n had developed an understanding that clickers were some of the most horrifying creatures out there, though not even that understanding was enough to prepare her for the bone-chilling sound as one turned into the room, blindly staggering around in search of something to tear apart. She held her breath as bile threatened to bubble up her throat as she pressed her back up to the glass case, closing her eyes as it staggered out in front of her. She raised her hand up to cover her mouth and clamped her eyes shut, her spare hand cradling the small gun that Joel had given her to her chest.

Her flashlight had been abandoned, having dropped and rolled across the floor during the chaos that had ensued once the clickers had finally recognized their presence, leaving her entirely in the dark and alone. Thankfully, she had not heard anyone being ripped limb from limb just yet, so at least she wasn’t entirely alone–she just had no idea where any of them may have been hiding.

The clicker circled back, stumbling eerily close to her as it passed, fortunately just far enough that it could not detect her as she slumped into the glass case. She let out a small breath of relief, waiting a few beats after the clicking sounded far enough away to take a few cautious steps out, scanning the room frantically for any signs of life. Y/n extended her palms out in front of her, carefully feeling for any obstacles that may have appeared in her path, making her way out into the hallway and into the largest room at the very end.

Y/n sighed in relief as she caught sight of Joel creeping across the very same room, making his way over to where Ellie had curled into a ball on the floor. Her lips parted, initial instinct to yell out to him dying on her lips as the same gut-clenching clicking reappeared, only this time coming from directly behind her.

The young woman scampered in the opposite direction of Joel and Ellie, wandering further into the gallery as quietly as she possibly could, cringing as she glanced back and recognized the clicker’s shadowy figure following blindly behind her in the darkness. In a fearful panic, her steps grew quicker, then came to a screeching halt when she felt the weight of a large ceramic vase against the toe of her boot. Her hand flew out in front of her, grasping through the darkness in a last-resort to prevent it from falling, proving fruitless as the deafening shatter reached her ears.

A choked sob escaped her lips as she froze, turning to glance over her shoulder as the clicker released a guttural shriek before bounding in her direction. Y/n yelped, body frozen in fright as its rotten body slammed into hers, crashing through a glass display and driving her into the hard stone flooring as it snapped its teeth, desperate to tear the flesh away from her bones.

Her vision was fuzzy, a warm sensation flooding over her face from the impact of her head hitting the floor as she struggled to hold its face away from her with one hand, the other scrambling to find her gun, having lost it amongst the glass covering the floor. A fearful cry left her lips, fingers grasping a large shard of glass and driving it into the base of the clicker’s neck–not enough to kill it, but enough to allow her enough time to crawl away from it. Her hands finally met with the cold metal of her gun, raising it and firing several shots blindly as the creature came down on her once more, dropping limply against her own figure.

Y/n glanced up, finding the familiar figure of Joel, rushing towards her as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, shoving the dead corpse away from her and dragging her back to her feet. She gasped at the speed of his movements, dizziness settling in as she slumped into his chest, thankful that he was allowing her the moment to recover.

The moment was short lived, as the second clicker emerged from the hall, attracted by the noise caused during Y/n’s scuffle, rushing at the pair with an animalistic rage. Joel pushed her behind him, reaching for his rifle when Tess appeared, a hoarse yell leaving her throat as she jammed an axe into the side of its head, distracting it just long enough for Joel to fire two final shots. Y/n gasped in relief as it slumped to the floor in a bloody heap of fungus, cringing at the sight.

Joel turned back to her, hand coming up to cradle her jaw as he shone his flashlight on her face, “Did it get you?”

She gulped, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Definitely a concussion,” He grunted, a frown appearing on his face as his gaze flickered up to the crimson liquid that had begun to seep down from her hairline, “Damn it.”

“I’m fine–I will be fine,” Y/n grumbled under her breath as he prodded at the wound, smacking his hand away defiantly, turning to find the youngest of the group looking bewilderedly down at the two corpses, “Ellie, are you okay?”

The girl snapped out of her trance, wide eyes focusing on Y/n as she checked over her for any obvious wounds, “Well, I didn’t shit my pants, so…”

The older of the two grasped her arm, noting the dark stain against the red fabric of her sweater and dragged it up, hissing when she found the recognizable shape of a bite mark in her flesh.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ellie grunted, pulling her arm away to inspect it herself with a grimace, “I mean, I guess if it was gonna happen to one of us…”

“Tess,” Joel’s voice drew her gaze over to the oldest of the three women, “You okay?”

Tess rested her hands on her knees, bent over as she gasped to catch her breath, “Yeah, just a sprained ankle.” She hissed as she put more weight onto her ankle, pushing herself up to stand straight, “Whatever, let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

The sunlight caused the throbbing in the base of Y/n’s skull to intensify worse than she could have imagined, her hand carefully reaching back to cradle her own head with one hand while she pressed the sleeve of her jacket to the wound on her forehead, thankful that the blood had already begun to dry on her flesh.

Joel was at her side, forcing her to sit against the shingles of the roof as he took over, inspecting the cut carefully.

Her eyes squinted up at him, vision still a bit hazy and senses slightly off. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as the adrenaline that had rushed through her veins began to wear off, allowing a dull ache to begin to spread through her entire body. She’d dealt with a lot in her relatively short lifespan so far–hell, she’d been beaten half to death before, but nothing had quite inspired so much fear in her as she had felt while lying helplessly beneath the clicker.

“How do you feel?”

She shrugged, “Dizzy.”

“How dizzy?”

“Fucking dizzy. I’ll be fine in a little bit,” She sighed, leaning into his touch, “I have some pills in my pack, grab them for me?”

He obliged, rummaging through the bag before offering a handful of small white tablets, watching as she carefully swallowed two, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

She smiled softly at him as she reached a hand up to stroke his cheek, probably the kindest and most affectionate motion she’d offered him all day, “I’m sure. I’ve lived through a lot worse, remember?”

The crease between his brows deepened as he recalled the first memory he had of her, laying limply on his couch as he and Tess took turns nursing her back to health. He nodded slowly, turning his face in her grasp to press a small, almost nonexistent kiss to her palm before standing to his full height and helping her to her feet.

“I’ll-uh,” She glanced across to where Ellie had wandered to the neighbouring rooftop, “I’ll go keep an eye on her, you help Tess with her ankle?”

He nodded again, watching as she cautiously and nervously crossed over to the other side and letting out a sigh of relief once she set foot on the cement.

“You doing okay?” Y/n took a seat on an old crate next to Ellie, eyes cast out over the cityscape.

“Shaken up. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Y/n let out a breath, “Me neither.”

Ellie turned to her, “Really? I thought you guys were like, super cool, action hero smugglers or something.”

“Action hero smugglers?” Y/n repeated, chuckling under her breath, “I’m sorry, I have no idea where you would have gotten that idea. Besides, I can count the number of times I’ve left the QZ on one hand, and none of those times has been anything like this. Joel and Tess do most of the runs, I just do little things here and there to help them out.”

Ellie’s surprised expression faded into one of complete seriousness, “Can I ask you a question? Like a real one?”

Y/n shrugged, “Shoot.”

The younger girl squirmed slightly, discomfort clear on her face as she considered exactly how to word her question without offending her too much, which was considerably out of character for her, “Why are you with them?”

Y/n furrowed her brow, “What do you mean?”

“Tess and Joel,” She nodded her head backwards to motion to the other two, who were still on the rooftop of the museum, “I mean, no offence, but they kinda treat you like shit.”

Y/n exhaled through her nose, shifting her gaze down to her fingers as she began to pick at the skin around her nail beds, “Ellie that’s–it’s complicated.”

Ellie pursed her lips, “Sorry, I just–if you and Joel are…I just think you could do better.”

Y/n frowned, gnawing on her bottom lip as she floundered for a response. She glanced back over her shoulder once more, eyes falling on Joel as he crossed over the wobbly ladder-turned-bridge. She sniffed, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket before finally muttering her response.

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

#joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us #the last of us imagine #hbo the last of us

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winterrosewriter · 7 months ago

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regarding used bookstores, here is what i hope

So, as you all might expect due to how much I can't stop obsessing over Rebecca, I love to read. As a result, I have a lot of books. Not as many as some people, but more than people who don't read. Probably around 150, in a big tall bookcase with glass doors.

Lately, I have wanted to own fewer books. I think I got to the point, especially during the pandemic, where the bookshelves became pretty decor, instead of carefully curated reading material.

I kept a lot of children's books I loved. Lots of classics, Fantasy. Signed books. Young adult. You get the idea.

Anyway, last weekend, I went through the books, and bagged up around 60 to pass on to a used bookstore. It's funny, because deciding what to pass on wasn't even that difficult. I asked myself: Am I going to read this again? Have I read this? Did I really, truly love this? Will I be sad if this is not here anymore?

I kept this a pretty quick pass. A lot of the children's fiction that I loved but was ready to move on from went. Some grammar books. Some nonfiction. Some adult fiction. I had read all but one of them. (The exception was Philippa Gregory's Virgin Earth, for the record, because blarg on her historical fiction. Why I picked that up, I don't know.)

I am very pleased I did this. I still have books, just less of them.

I even passed on my Daphne du Maurier omnibus (Rebecca, My Cousin Rachel, Jamaica Inn, Frenchman's Creek). It has a scene from 1979 Rebecca on the cover (imo the best version hands down) but I just didn't feel like I needed to keep it anymore. And that feels great. If I don't want something anymore, that means someone else can find enjoyment in it.

I could tell the used bookstore owner didn't really want my books, though he did take them in the end. This bookstore is the kind of old-timey store that writers especially love. It's the kind of store where, if you have the patience and the time, you will wander for a while and then you will randomly find a book that turns out to be excellent and you will wonder at how you found it at all.

There were tons of books in this store, Boxes of books on the floor. Tables full. Piles on the floor. Just books everywhere. When we left, the books I gave them were still in bags on the floor. I can understand why the owner was reluctant.

It can be really hard to know where to take used books. Most are not worth much (if anything). Some libraries don't want books at all. Little free libraries are often full. I don't know a lot of other readers in real life. So, I went with the used bookstore.

When I was a kid, people would give me bookstore gift cards and I would never know what to pick out. My dad resorted once to picking books out for me, telling me they all looked great.

So, here is what I hope:

I hope this store has regulars to pore through the new books people like me bring in. I hope they find something interesting and new and exciting.

I hope a father brings in his 11-year-old daughter because she loves to read, but never knows what to get, and I hope he picks up some of the great children's fiction I hung onto for too long for her, and says, "This looks great! How about this?"

I hope other readers find my books. And yours. And everyone else's. And I hope they enjoy the stories we all have to share.

#rebecca #books #reading #bookcases #curating #fiction #readers #decluttering #organization #bookstores #books and reading #books & libraries

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gn349 · 2 years ago

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DEAR MARTIN

[Cover art for Dear Martin]. (n.d.). Retrieved March 7, 2023, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dear_Martin

Dear Martin by Nic Stone tells the story of high school student Justyce McAllister as he navigates certain social issues. While attending a predominately white preparatory high school on a scholarship, and heading towards an ivy league college career, Justyce is attacked and handcuffed by a police officer, which is a triggering event and causes him to question life as a black teenager in current society. After this horrifying experience he begins writing in a journal addressing his entries to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr and tries to think of what he would do in these situations.

Dead Martin is an easy and fast read that keeps the reader wanting more. Stone’s writing style and Justyce’s journal entries are a magnificent combination that genuinely makes you feel the pain that is experienced throughout the novel. Dear Martin tells a heart-wrenching story of racial prejudice and racial injustice that is, unfortunately, deeply bred into a society. So many emotions were felt while reading, mostly sadness and anger, but there were also moments of joy and happiness. I genuinely believe teens will enjoy the read and hopefully become enlightened by the story being told. SPOILER ALERT!!!!! Manny’s death really hit home while reading, and the fact that an act so innocent, such as listening to music, can cause an individual to feel threatened and take another person's life. This novel is a 10/10 must-read and I plan on reading Dear Justyce, the sequel to this book.

AWARDS:

2018 Finalist for the William C. Morris Debut YA Award

2018 American Library Association's (ALA) Top Ten Amazing Audiobooks for Young Adults

2018 ALA's Top Ten Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers

2018 - Starred review from Booklist

2018 Amelia Elizabeth Walden Award Nominee

2020 South Carolina Book Award Nominee for Young Adult

2020 Lincoln Award Nominee

youtube

Watch Nic Stone herself discuss the inspiration behind Dear Martin and also provide a quick summary of the novel!

#dear martin #nic stone #martin luther king jr #racial prejudice #equal rites #gun violence #social issues #young adult literature #young adult fiction #Youtube

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quirkycatsfatstacks · 8 months ago

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#Cat – The Book Review Crew

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sarahbethdurst · 9 months ago

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YALSA's 2024 Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers List

Thank you again, YALSA librarians! You've made my day twice now, two days in a row! After learning yesterday that my YA book, THE LAKE HOUSE, made YALSA's 2024 Best Fiction for Young Adults list, I found out today that it also made YALSA's 2024 Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers list! I'm thrilled and so grateful.

https://www.ala.org/yalsa/2024-quick-picks-reluctant-young-adult-readers

#books #young adult fiction #ya thriller

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yalitinfo · 2 years ago

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Book list by the ALA: "The Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers list identifies titles aimed at encouraging reading among teens who dislike to read for whatever reason. .... Criteria for these titles include those with a high interest "hook", a catchy title/cover, sufficient plot to sustain interest, humor when appropriate, and more. "

#books & libraries #ya literature #book list

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balkinbuddies · 5 years ago

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We’re celebrating July 4th with the ALAN Review article entitled “Where Are They Now? Remembering Our Most Popular Young Adult Authors.”

An article written by Don Gallo appeared recently in the Summer 2019 issue of The ALAN Review entitled “Where Are They Now? Remembering Our Most Popular Young Adult Authors.” Among those remembered were four authors with whom I worked very closely during my years at HarperCollins and, with Don Gallo's and the ALAN Review's permission, I'm including those remembrances on the Balkin Buddies blog:

Here they are in the order they appeared in the article:

Paul Zindel [Tied for first place with S.E. Hinton in 1988]*

Paul Zindel's death in March 2003 ended the brilliant career of a unique individual. Not only did he win a Pulitzer Prize for Drama and an Obie Award for Best American Play in 1970 for The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds (1965), but he was also one of the earliest writers in the field of contemporary literature for young adults. The Pigman, published in 1968, is still one of the most well-known and widely taught novels in the genre. He followed The Pigman with My Darling, My Hamburger (1969); Pardon Me, You're Stepping on My Eyeball (1976), The Undertaker's Gone Bananas (1978); Harry and Hortense at Hormone High (1984); and other novels with attention-getting titles. His writing revealed how well he understood teenagers, believing that “adolescence is a time for problem-solving – for dealing with the awesome questions of self-identity, responsibility, authority, sex, love, God, and death” (Gallo, 1990, p. 228).

In addition to Gamma Rays, this versatile author wrote a number of other plays, including And Miss Reardon Drinks a Little (1971) and Ladies at the Alamo (1975), as well as a number of movies and television scripts that include Up the Sandbox (1972), starring Barbara Streisand; Mame (1974), starring Lucille Ball; Runaway Train (1985), starring Jon Voigt; Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-glass (1985), with a cast of 50 stars that included Red Buttons, Ringo Starr, Scott Baio, and Shelley Winters; Babes in Toyland (1986), starring Drew Barrymore and Keanu Reeves; and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1989), starring Keshia Knight Pullman. During those years working in Hollywood, Zindel associated with numerous movie and television actors and became good friends with Walter Matthau who lived in the house next door.

In his later years, Zindel, always knowing what would appeal to teen readers, turned from realistic fiction to monster/horror books, such as The Doom Stone (1996), Rats (1999), and Night of the Bat (2001) – all of them filled with suspense and action and all selected as Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers.

Zindel reveals a lot about himself in his 1987 autobiographical novel, The Amazing and Death-Defying Diary of Eugene Dingman, except that the fictional Eugene grows up in Bayone, New Jersey, while Paul grew up on Staten Island, New York. Of his teen years, Paul says bluntly: “I was an awkward freak.” More about Zindel's early life, family, and adventures can be found in his autobiography, The Pigman and Me (1992), which was named one of the 100 Best of the Best Books published for teenagers during the last part of the twentieth century. In 2002, the American Library Association bestowed upon Paul Zindel the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement, and later that same year, he was presented with the ALAN Award for his contributions to young adult literature.

M. E. Kerr [Tied for fourth place with Robert Cormier and Katherine Paterson in 1988]*

Writing under the pseudonym of M. E. Kerr, Marijane Meaker was one of the earliest authors to gain notoriety in the YA publishing world with Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack!, published in 1972. Among her 20 popular novels are Is That You, Miss Blue? (1975), I'll Love You When You're More Like Me (1977), Gentlehands (1978), Him She Loves? (1984), Night Kites (1986), the Fell series (1987, 1989, 1991), and Deliver Us from Evie (1990). Kerr has always chosen to write about differences in people, “understanding them....trying to make sense of it all, never losing sight of the power love lends.”

In an interview published in Teenreads, she explains her motives: “I was very much formed by books when I was young....I was a bookworm and a poetry lover. When I think of myself and what I would have liked to have found in books those many years ago, I remember being depressed by all the neatly tied-up, happy-ending stories, the abundance of winners, the themes of winning, solving, finding – when around me it didn't seem that easy. So I write with a different feeling when I write for young adults. I guess I write for myself at that age” (“M. E. Kerr).

Marijane Meaker began her career in publishing after she was unable to sell any of her stories to magazines. She presented herself as Ms. Meaker, a literary agent with six clients, and sent out her own work under various pseudonyms, male as well as female. One was a middle-aged female teacher writing true confessions (at $300 a story); another was a young college woman selling to magazines, such as Redbook and Ladies Home Journal; a third “author” told a story, titled “I Lost My Baby at a Pot Party,” about her child wandering from a house where a saleslady was pitching Teflon pots. Along the way, a Gold Medal Books editor convinced her to write a novel about sorority life, for which she earned $4,000 a book at a penny a word. This very resourceful writer also published two or three adult mysteries a year under the name of Vin Packer, and other novels were penned as Ann Aldrich and Laura Winston. Her books for children are published under the name Mary James. “A lot of my stories,” she says, “sold well enough for me to enjoy trips to Europe, an apartment off Fifth Avenue in New York City in the 90s, and a Fiat convertible.”

M.E. Kerr's novels for teens have won multiple awards, including a Christopher Award in 1978, a Golden Kite Award from the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators in 1981, a California Young Readers Medal in 1992, the Margaret A. Edwards Award from the American Library Association in 1993 for her lifetime contribution to young adult literature, the Knickerbocker Award for Juvenile and Young Adult Literature in 1991, the ALAN Award in 2000, and the Golden Crown Literary Society Award for her groundbreaking works in the field of lesbian literature in 2013. In 1996, Long Island University awarded her an honorary doctorate.

A collection of her short stories for teens – dealing with dating, love, race, bigotry, homosexuality, self-love, and acceptance – titled Edge, was published in 2015. And Highsmith: A Romance of the 1950s, a memoir recounting Meaker's relationship with famous mystery writer Patricia Highsmith, was published in 2003. Still writing at the age of 91, Meaker recently completed a novel about gay life in New York City during the 1940s and how she became a literary agent for her own work. It's titled Remind Me, based on the lyrics of an old song from that time written by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields (1940): “Remind me / Not to find you so attractive / Remind me that the world is full of men.

Katherine Paterson [Tied for fourth place with Robert Cormier and M. E. Kerr in 1988]*

Born in Qing Jiang, China, in 1932, the middle daughter of missionary parents, Katherine Paterson has lived in a variety of places, from Tennessee, Virginia, Maryland, and New York City to China and Japan, where she was a Presbyterian missionary. She now lives in Montpelier, Vermont.

Her highly regarded novels include The Sign of the Chrysanthemum (1973), Of Nightingales That Weep (1974), Master Puppeteer (1975), and Rebels of the Heavenly Kingdom (1983), but she is known best for Bridge to Terabithia (1977), which won the Newbery Medal in 1978; The Great Gilly Hopkins (1978), which won the National Book Award in 1979; Jacob Have I Loved (1980), which won the Newbery Medal in 1981; and Park's Quest (1988), which made The Horn Book Fanfare Honor List in 1988. Published in 1996, Jip, His Story won the Parents' Choice Story Book Award and the Scott O'Dell Award for Historical Fiction in 1997. In 2006, Bread and Roses, Too won the Christopher Award and was a Bank Street Best Children's Book of the Year, a Notable Social Studies Trade Book for Young People, a Parents' Choice Gold Medal historical fiction book, and one of Voice of Youth Advocate's Top Fiction for Middle School Readers.

Paterson has also authored several autobiographical books about her writing, including Stories of My Life (2014), and is a coauthor of Consider the Lilies (Paterson & Paterson, 1986), a nonfiction book about various plants of the Bible that she wrote with her husband, John.

Over her long writing career, Paterson has also received a long list of awards for her body of work. Among them are the Kerlan Award from the University of Minnesota (1983), the ALAN Award (1987), the Hans Christian Andersen Medal for Writing (1998), the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award (2006), the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award (2013), and the Massachusetts Reading Association Lifetime Award, along with writing awards from Germany, France, and Sweden. In 2000, she was declared A Living Legend by the Library of Congress, and for 2010-2011, Paterson was the US Ambassador for Young People's Literature. She is also the recipient of more than a dozen honorary degrees, including ones from Vermont College of Fine Arts, the University of Maryland, Hope College, and Washington and Lee University.

Paterson's latest novel is My Brigadista Year (2017), set in Cuba in 1961 during the literacy campaign that made Cuba a fully literate nation in one year.

Robert Lipsyte

The author of The Contender (1967) turned 80 years old this spring, as his ground-breaking novel passed the 50-year mark in print. Lipsyte is also the author of One Fat Summer (1977), Summer Rules (1981), The Brave (1991), The Chemo Kid (1992), The Chief (1993), and Raiders Night (2006) for teens, and for young readers, The Twinning Project (2012). Lipsyte's list of publications for teenagers isn't especially lengthy when compared to those of some authors who have been writing for the same length of time, but that's because writing books for and about teenagers is only one kind of work he has done especially well. He has also published a number of short stories, essays about sports issues, and biographies of several sports celebrities, such as Muhammad Ali, Jim Thorpe, and Michael Jordan, as well as several nonfiction books for adults, including Nigger, with Dick Gregory (1964), the African American satirist; Sportsworld (1975/2018); and Idols of the Game (1995). As the author of The Contender, one of the very first realistic novels about contemporary teenagers, Robert Lipsyte was honored with the Margaret A. Edwards Award by the American Library Association in 2001.

And that's not all. Among other things, Robert Lipsyte has been a highly respected columnist and prize-winning sports reporter for The New York Times, a correspondent for the CBS television program Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt; the host of his own award-winning television interview program, The Eleventh Hour, on New York City's public television station, WNET Channel 13; author of a television documentary series about sports; and the Life (Part 2) series for PBS-TV on subjects of interest to older people. He is also the author of an entertaining memoir, titled Accidental Sportswriter (2011).

In addition to speaking at a lot of high schools, Lipsyte recently has been flying to North Carolina for a week at a time to teach at Wake Forest University, which he says he enjoys very much. He continues to write a monthly column, mostly on local politics, for his hometown weekly, The Shelter Island Reporter, which he says “gives me as much pleasure as the old Times' column.” He also occasionally writes about sports and politics for a site called Tomdispatch, which distributes to a batch of leftish publications like The Nation and The Guardian. If that's not enough, after his cameo on the O.J.: Made in America documentary film (Edelman, 2016) that won an Oscar, he gets called often to pontificate on various TV documentaries, most recently on one about Sonny Liston, three on Muhammad Ali (including one by Ken Burns), and another on that “hard year” 1968.

Meanwhile, this very busy author has been promoting the film, Measure of a Man (Scearce, 2018), starring Donald Sutherland, based on One Fat Summer, Lipsyte's 1977 novel about a bullied teen. View the trailer at https://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/measure-of-a-man/. “I have toyed with a new YA novel,” he claims, but where will he find the time?

*Based on the list of 169 authors' names Mr. Gallo sent to 41 present and past officers of ALAN in 1988, asking them “to identify the most important and popular YA fiction writers of the time and to add other names of writers they felt were as important.” Due to space limitations, he “limited this investigation to the top 30 authors included on that 1988 list.”

The ALAN Review Summer 2019

Reprinted with permission from the ALAN Review and Don Gallo.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt and get to read the entire article. Personally, I feel honored to have worked with such incredibly talented authors as well as with all the amazing people at ALAN.

For information on Balkin Buddies, be sure to visit our website or blog.

Catherine Balkin, Balkin Buddies

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years ago

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So I follow MANY interactive fiction blogs and I just have to say that you're my favorite by a long shot because I just love answers that you give in response to hypothetical scenarios and AU's for your characters. Like you actually put in effort and give well-thought out answers, so I thank you for that. As for AU's I have one of my own if you don't mind please. What would be the RO's for a murder mystery a la Cluedo? Bonus points that they can't leave the mansion for extra chaos. Thank you!

Ah, thank you so much for your kind words! 💖 I'm lucky to be a part of such a great community of talented creatives and kind, genuinely awesome people! Interacting with readers is such a pleasure, even if I do fall behind on messages and such I'm so sorry

I'm in North America, so I was genuinely like "what on Earth is Cluedo" gkljglfdjgd only because it's called Clue where I'm from! But I, uh, never played it, so I'm just going to go off of my knowledge from Knives Out 😂

SETTING: a Southern Gothic mansion in an undisclosed location, owned by a woman only referred to in jest as The Autarch by her adopted children. It is a stately manor, richly furnished and glittering with wealth, though imposing and dark-windowed during storms.

CONTEXT: a powerful and wealthy tycoon referred to only as "The Autarch" or "The Iron Lady" was once feared across the country for her ruthless business dealings and formidable empire. In her middle age, a mysterious experience and the sudden death of her husband caused her to have a change of heart, abruptly abandoning her empire to her only son and devoting her life to adopting six orphan children. However, stopping her business dealings did not completely change her personality: she was a hard, unforgiving woman, and her relationships to her children (now all grown) can be described as "strained" at best.

In her declining age, the lonely Autarch in her high mansion somehow came to befriend a psychic by the name of Mimir of the Silver Eye. Only the servants were witness to what was said between them, and even then, they never had the full story. The most that anyone knew was that the Autarch began to express more interest in resuming her business activities again, to the disconcertion of her only biological son, Enik, who had helmed the empire on his own for the last twenty years. Meanwhile, Mimir moved into the mansion to keep her older friend company, and to help advise her on matters both business and personal.

One stormy night, the Autarch calls all 7 of her children back home in order to discuss matters of great importance, including her decisions about her will. Some came eagerly, and others with great reluctance--there were arguments had that were years in coming, and there were private talks between siblings who hadn't interacted in years. But the matter that the Autarch was keen to discuss was postponed: the storm knocked out the power in the mansion, and all turned into bed, sleeping fitfully in rooms they'd abandoned decades earlier.

They never discovered why the Autarch had called them to their old haunting grounds, either, for in the morning, she was found with a knife buried in her heart.

CHARACTERS:

- Riel Syndran. A world-famous private detective and consultant famed across the world for his ability to solve any mystery, no matter how old or tangled. He is known for being comfortable with ruthlessly manipulating interrogation subjects and suspects in order to extract the truth and solve his case no matter what; this obsession and willingness to massage the rules--although he claims the truth is his only goal, above all other things--is what makes him unsuitable for conventional police work, but his results speak for themselves. He arrives on the mansion's doorstep mere minutes after the Autarch is found murdered and is claimed to have been hired by an anonymous party, casting suspicion on his timing and the pre-planned nature of the death. His signature move is being recognized by various people as "the detective who solved the Apple Killer case" (or some other famous case of his) and replying in irritable tones that it was actually "the Orange Killer case, but you were close". He abhors smoking and has doctorates in body language analysis and psychology, as well as a law degree, and is gifted with a photographic memory. He picks invisible lint off of his sleeves while he thinks.

- Blade Bronwyn. An FBI agent (think Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks) who has been in the town of Old Haven investigating a string of serial killings across the country. He hears about the murder of the Autarch from the local police and arrives at the manor a mere hour after they were alerted, keen to investigate the murder as part of his ongoing case. He plays the straight man to Riel's more eccentric detection methods, and is seen more as a serious, by-the-books rule-follower determined to get answers. The suspects in the manor find him to be emotionally-insensitive, blunt, and grim-faced. He has a better sense of smell and sight than Riel does, as well as more combat experience, and is the only person in the manor acknowledged to be carrying a weapon. He takes his coffee black and very strong.

- Enik Goldenson. The Autarch's only biological child and the oldest. He was granted full control of her holdings and business empire when she retired in order to focus on raising her new family. He has made his disdain of his adopted siblings very clear, not least because he resents having to share his future inheritance with them. He has historically been a bully and cruel towards his mother. Rumor had it that he was once studying to become a priest. He has avoided returning to the mansion ever since Trouble knocked his lights out at fourteen years of age. He was once briefly engaged to fellow heiress Lavinet Naveen, who eventually spurned him, finding him "repulsive." He has the most bad blood among anyone in the family and is considered one of the prime suspects in the Autarch's murder, as it was possible that she may planned to cut him out of the will. Blade places his suspect status as RED while Riel believes he is at an ORANGE: Enik may be far too clever to kill his own mother under such suspicious and bloody circumstances.

- Trouble Alder. The first of the Autarch's adopted children, he was once an urchin running a street-fighting racket on the streets of New Haven. He was nicknamed Trouble for his surly temper and quick ability to get into fights and settle things with his fists, necessitating being sent off to a military boarding school in an effort to curb his violent tendencies as a teenager. He is extremely protective of his other adopted siblings, and while he resented the Autarch in his youth, he has begrudgingly come to respect her more for taking him in as an adult. He now works as a decorated sniper in the military and is working to earn his pilot's wings. The revelation that he kept military weapons in his room casts suspicion on him as a murder suspect, though Riel quickly dismisses him as not being a good enough liar to get away with it.

- Tallys Ironwood. The second of the Autarch's adopted children, she made her hatred of the old woman very well known, and had an even poorer relationship with her than Enik did. Tallys's parents were victims in an accident caused by one of the Autarch's manufacturing plants, and she has always felt that her subsequent adoption was mere lip service to atonement for the Autarch, while she would have rather stayed with her more impoverished aunts and uncles. She ran away multiple times in her youth and has not spoken to the Autarch since she was 18. Her overt hatred and reluctance in coming back to the mansion casts suspicion on her as a murder suspect. She has a degree in plant science and works as an environmental activist, particularly targeting products and campaigns by Enik's company, creating unspeakable friction between them.

- Ayla Aescar. The third of the Autarch's adopted children, nothing is known about her biological parents. She was adopted from a neighboring country and has since returned to it as an adult, making an effort to reconnect with her origins and culture. Her relationship with "the old woman," as she calls her, was more neutral, though it comes out that the Autarch frequently bailed her out in secret whenever Ayla ran into trouble, such as trespassing on Jalis government grounds. Nominally, she works as a photographer for a travel magazine, but secretly, she is an investigative photojournalist looking into various covert practices by the Jalis government. This brings up a question of whether the Autarch's killing was political, and whether it was actually meant for Ayla.

- Chase Trinaeste. The fourth of the Autarch's adopted children, it's joked that he was intended to replace Trouble when he was sent off to boarding school due to having a more charming personality and sweeter face. However, he ended up being the most troublesome one of the bunch, having multiple run-ins with the law from a young age and displaying various tendencies towards larceny, grand theft auto, and more. He had no shame about stealing and pawning off valuables from the mansion and was a well-known skirt-chaser, leading to constant stress in their household about what he was getting up to when he snuck out of the house at night. At eighteen, he disappeared from the mansion, and no one has heard from him in the intervening years since. He completely ducks any questions from Riel or Blade about what he does for a living, leading most to conclude that he has gotten himself deeper entrenched in the criminal underworld. This has cast obvious suspicion on him and his involvement in the murder, as he was known to steal from the Autarch herself. He seems to feel some measure of loyalty and possibly remorse towards his adopted siblings, but hides it well under a polished veneer of charm and casual swagger.

- Briony Stormbreaker. The fifth of the Autarch's adopted children In a dramatic fashion, she was discovered as a young child swept away in a huge flood caused by a storm, with no ability to communicate (or seemingly remember) anything about where she could have lived or who her family was. She was subsequently adopted by the Autarch and is one of the few who had a fairly good relationship with her, always expressing gratitude for giving her a home and family (though this brought her into conflict with siblings like Tallys, as she usually tried to defend the Autarch when she wasn't there to speak for herself). She was the sibling who always tried to unite the others, and their constant arguments and conflicts constantly broke her heart. She was an easily-upset child who tended to be babied by Trouble and Chase, but after constantly bullying from Croelle and Enik, she toughened up and began taking martial arts classes, abruptly displaying her own ferocious temper and violent streak as well as unusually powerful physical strength. She currently works as a passionate public prosecutor. She was heard conversing with the Autarch privately with raised voices, on the night of the murder, and is known to sleepwalk during violent storms. She even had a phase with an imaginary, sword-shaped friend as a child, as well as repeatedly claimed that she's seen ghosts in the manor. This perceived paranoia has led some to wonder whether she could have harmed the Autarch in her sleep. As Riel says, "It's always the nice ones." Blade: "Not in my experience." Riel: "Not in mine, either, but in some continuity, it must be true."

- Croelle. The last of the Autarch's adopted children. He was by far the most anti-social and troubled part of the family, refusing to speak to those he deemed beneath him and breaking Trouble's arm in a disturbing display of dominance as youths. Unlike Enik, his cruelty is more ruthless and matter-of-fact, the way an animal might treat another animal, rather than pointed and manipulative. Regardless, he was a terror to all of the other siblings, and he was eventually thrown in juvenile detention (and later prison) for killing members of a gang, seemingly in self-defense. However, he never cared to divulge the full details of the story, and has been serving his sentence ever since. No one besides the Autarch knew that he was coming until they arrived at the manor. Croelle claims that he and the Autarch had been exchanging letters for the last few years, and that he has begrudgingly allowed her back into his life, which was why she decided to invite him to this gathering upon his release from prison. However, there is currently no evidence that any such letters exist. As an adult, he is currently quieter and more mellow and has shown no particular proclivity towards violence, but there is always a sense of danger lurking in his eye regardless. His social skills have not improved by much. He is considered one of the absolute top suspects for the old woman's murder. His feelings on his adopted siblings or really anything are extremely unknown. He keeps asking everyone about free will, which annoys everyone except Riel.

- Shery Acquell. A longtime maid for the Autarch and one of her closest friends and confidantes. She alone has been caring for the Autarch in her declining health, ensuring that she has been receiving the proper medical care and dietary attentions, and even reading her books in the evenings. Their closeness has led some to speculate that the Autarch may have bequeathed a part of her inheritance to the maid, or that perhaps Shery was motivated to ingratiate herself to the Autarch to attain said inheritance. She was the last person to see the Autarch before her death, knows something about what transpired between her and Mimir, and ultimately reluctantly admits that she believes in the ghosts that Briony has seen, too.

- Halek Prince. The manor's live-in chef. He is one of the few non-family members staying in the mansion the night of the murder, and suspicion is cast on him when his cooking seemingly gives Ayla, Briony, and Red an allergy attack, leading some to posit attempts at poisoning. Mimir claims to have seen him in places where he shouldn't be or even couldn't be, and he is generally someone viewed as a good suspect for the murder. Riel thinks something else is going on here.

- Red Antiqua. Ayla's journalist partner who accompanied her to the mansion, partly to serve as a buffer for the family awkwardness and partly because he was curious to learn more about the reclusive Autarch. Nominally, he is a travel writer, but secretly, he is working as the same kind of investigative journalist that she is. His secret photographs of the manor prove to be a key piece of evidence in uncovering the murder suspect. He is forced to be confined to the manor, the same as everyone else, to prevent information leaks or runaways. He uncovers a secret doorway in his room and is too curious not to duck into it...

- Caine Tavadon. The son of the manor's groundskeeper, he is often seen with his dog, peeping into the windows of the manor because he's incorrigibly nosy. His witness statements lead Blade and Riel to key footprints on the grounds. He claims to have seen a strange figure staring down at him from the windows of the mansion before.

- Prihine Naveen. Enik's current fiancee, she accompanied him on this odious visit to his mother's manor and is a witness in the proceedings. Although they can barely tolerate each other, their shared ambitions for wealth and power keep them together as a polite though distant couple. A file in the Autarch's study reveals that she has been watching Prihine for some time and discovered that she was having a secret affair. The file indicates that she planned to tell Enik face-to-face, leading others to speculate that Prihine may have murdered the old woman in order to preserve her engagement. Enik remarks that there was a period of time where Prihine was not in bed.

- Lavinet Naveen. Prihine's older cousin, and Enik's ex-fiancee. They've technically known each other since they were children and were schoolmates at the same prestigious institution. The Autarch and Lavinet's father initially had designs to marry the two to forge a powerful alliance between their business empires. However, Lavinet quickly backed out of the engagement, finally admitting that she couldn't stand Enik and would never marry him. Although this has generally caused relations between the two families to become frosty, she has strangely remained on good terms with the Autarch herself, who always admired Lavinet's chutzpah and steely will. (This was just another reason for Enik to hate his own mother.) Lavinet was free to come and go to the manor as she pleased, and dropped in on the Autarch once every few months, as her family's manor is nearby. She only recently discovered that her own cousin, Prihine, is now engaged to her ex, and rushed over on the night of the murder in order to dissuade Prihine from the marriage or convince the Autarch to put a stop to it. This led to a four-way argument (between Lavinet, Prihine, Enik, and his mother) of epic proportions, meaning that Lavinet is not clear on suspicions of murder, either.

- Mimir. The psychic who somehow came into contact with the Autarch and began to convert her to the ways of the supernatural. She has been the Autarch's closest friend and confidant for months, even going so far as to move into the mansion. Many point out the obvious designs on the Autarch's inheritance and possible sinister intentions for taking advantage of the older woman, especially since no one but Shery knows what Mimir has actually advised the Autarch to do. However, Riel points out that there has been no traceable financial irregularities when it comes to Mimir; the Autarch doesn't seem to have paid her for her services, only providing Mimir with food and a roof over her head. The psychic speaks in extremely cryptic tones and lapses into trance-like states. Riel in particular scorns her for her supposedly psychic abilities, insisting that she is a fraud, until she comments on aspects of his past that no one could possibly know, shaking him. She is a prime suspect for the murder until it's discovered that Mimir insists on being locked into a windowless room, only being released by Shery in the morning, to protect herself from the ghosts that haunt the grounds...

#Shepherds of Haven #AU #cluedo #clue #murder mystery #murder mystery AU #knives out #knives out AU #long #long post #all characters #<3 #if anyone can actually guess who the killer is i'll send you a sticker #jk i'll reblog the answer sometime

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lifeofkaze · 3 years ago

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 10

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: None, wow 😂

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

I make my livin' off the evenin' news

Just give me somethin', somethin' I can use

People love it when you lose

They love dirty laundry

~ Don Henley - Dirty Laundry ~

Ethan’s plan to raise Equinox’s standing within the record company was very clear. While their nights were spent performing on stage, Ethan had made sure their days were filled with a tight schedule of PR appointments.

Where they’d had plenty of time to relax, socialise and explore on their previous tours, every day was now jam-packed with meet & greets, photoshoots and interviews. Even when they were off duty, Ethan was constantly reminding them to take pictures and film stories to publish on social media.

“People aren’t following you because they like your music,” he never got tired of saying. “They want to see who’s behind their favourite rockstars. Give them a look at your private life and you’ll be everybody’s darlings in no time once again.”

Some of them were more reluctant to put themselves out there than the others. While Lizzie and Skye didn’t mind the odd goofy backstage clip, Lizzie noticed Merula and especially Orion were increasingly drawing back into themselves.

Lizzie and Orion made a point to avoid talking about band business when they were spending their nights together; not that they were talking much at all. But the concerned crease that she could see more often than not on Orion’s forehead these days wasn’t lost on her either.

The worst part of Ethan’s strategy, however, were without a doubt the countless press appointments. All in the spirit of keeping the enemy close, Lizzie had lost track of how many interviews they had given since their U.K. tour had started. The publications they were working with ranged from reputable magazines and newspapers to the trashiest of tabloids. At least, most of the stories those were coming up with were just too hilarious to be actually believable; Lizzie shuddered to think what dirt they could uncover if they’d ever decide to dig for real.

Like on so many days before, Equinox were scheduled for another interview before one of their rare days off. It was for a feature story with a magazine well respected in the industry, all with an accompanying photo shoot and the whole conundrum. It wouldn’t have sounded so bad, had it not been for the journalist who had been chosen to conduct the interview.

Lizzie had met a number of reporters over the course of her career, but none who ground her nerves as Rita Skeeter did.

Beloved by her readers and dreaded by the subjects of her stories, Rita Skeeter was one of the most sharp-tongued critics British journalism had to offer. She had a singular gift - although some called it a curse - to wiggle even the slightest of juicy information out of her unheeding interview partner. Many a career had taken a dive after an unfortunate encounter with her.

If you wanted utmost attention, Rita Skeeter was the right woman for the job; but you had better get your guard up.

The blonde woman was currently watching Andre preparing them for the interview and the shoot afterwards; usually the magazines brought their own stylists, but Ethan liked to keep as many things under control as he could. Having Andre in charge of their looks guaranteed they would give off just the impression Ethan wanted.

Andre was in the process of applying Lizzie’s make up, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth while he concentrated. She winced as her eyes started tearing up from the wand of the mascara.

“I don’t get why this much makeup is necessary,” she complained, drawing away from Andre to blink her tears away. “I get it with Merula, she’s singing and in focus, but I’m behind the drums, no one’s paying attention to me. Give her the spotlight and leave me in peace,” she added glumly as she saw Andre approach with a curling wand.

Andre tutted as he opened her ponytail and loosened her hair with practised hands. “Stop arguing, you know it’s useless. And besides,” he added with a wink that showed off his glittery eyeliner, “loads of people are paying attention to you; you’re just not looking.”

“I have to agree with Mr. Egwu,” Rita suddenly said. She had been leaning against one of the dressing tables on the set and watched them being dolled up. Andre usually held their wardrobe in dark colours, black and white, so Rita’s bilious green dress stood out like a flare in comparison. She pursed her bright red lips as she looked Lizzie up and down over the rim of her half-glasses.

“You’re a favourite with my readers, Miss Jameson… Lizzie, I may call you Lizzie, right?”

Without waiting for Lizzie’s answer, she continued. “You have a bright personality and some decent looks; you are the little sunshine of this group and everyone likes themselves a good ‘girl next door in the big wide world’ trope.”

She raised her hands at Lizzie’s sceptical look and laughed; it sounded incredibly put on. “I’m not a fan of putting people into drawers either, but it’s what the people want to see.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “It’s how my readers think.”

Skye snorted in the background; she was already done with her styling and sat on one of the tables, legs dangling in the air. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rita giggled. “Of course the rebel of the group would say that, I expected nothing else; after all, there’s true rockstar blood running through your veins, Skye Parkin.”

Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, Skye fell silent.

When everyone was ready, they moved over to where two comfortable looking sofas and an armchair were set up for them. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she took her place between Skye and Everett. Rita Skeeter was known to make her interview questions up on the spot; Lizzie just hoped they wouldn’t be too off the rails.

Rita leaned back into her armchair facing them and placed a dictating machine onto the small wooden table next to her. It was no secret that the infamous reporter liked to keep her own notes, kept apart from the material belonging to her magazine; she usually kept the dictating device running long after the cameras had turned off.

“So,” she began speaking to an invisible audience with a sickly sweet voice, “I’m honoured to be talking to England’s hottest export when it comes to rock ‘n’ roll - and I mean that in more ways than one.”

She turned her attention towards them. “It’s so good to have you here today, how are you all?”

They all muttered some noncommittal phrases before Rita started with her first question. Like always in the beginning, it was more of a general palaver as both parties were taking the other’s measure.

If the questions weren’t directed at anyone in particular, it was usually Everett answering them. He loved the attention he got from Rita and contrary to the rest of them, he almost seemed to feel comfortable around her. The pictures Lizzie had seen of him and Rita in Skye’s tabloid came to her mind again, and she wondered if that might be the reason for Everett’s talkativeness.

As the interview continued, Rita’s questions were gradually becoming more detailed, focused on several aspects that she deemed sell-worthy. She watched every one of them closely as they answered, and they picked their words carefully.

“One thing I noticed about this last part of your tour is your very increased availability,” Rita said. “I don’t remember seeing you do so much fan service and public appearances before. What’s the reason behind this?”

It was Orion who answered her question. “The most important thing to us is to make sure our fans are having a good time. Without them, we wouldn’t be where we are now; it’s not a lot, but this is our way of thanking them.”

“Is this the reason for your upcoming special show tomorrow? Reserved for the indigent foster care children?”

Her eyes flicked between Merula and Orion. “It’s no secret you two have a history with the system. One orphaned at such a young age, the other the daughter of convicted criminals, bound to be raised in the shadows of her parents’ deeds. Two unlikely siblings, not bound by blood but by trauma - how does it feel to risk a look into your own past?”

“It’s a show like any other,” Merula replied bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She scowled at the blonde reporter. “No need to make a big deal out of this.”

Orion inclined his head in Merula’s direction. “What Merula wants to say is, we make no difference in what good cause we are supporting, as long as we can put a smile on the faces of those who need it, even if only for a little while. We do have our past in the care system, that is common knowledge, but as Merula pointed out already, this is in the past. If you want to continue on your path, it is no good walking with your gaze turned backwards. We live in the here and now, so it’s what’s in front of us that matters.”

The slight twitch around the corners of Rita’s mouth was almost too quick to catch, but Lizzie had seen it nonetheless. Apparently, Orion had given her the exact bridge to her next question she had hoped for.

“If you want to speak about the here and now, I’ll be too happy to fulfill your wish,” she cooed. “Now that we’re speaking on a more personal level anyway, I just have to ask. You guys are living everyone’s wildest dreams, a life all of us mere mortals can only imagine.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “It’s only us here, you can trust me; what about the juicy stories? Any tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll you want to share with the world?”

Lizzie subconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, hoping Rita hadn’t noticed before she got herself under control again; this woman was a bloodhound when it came to scandals. If she ever found out what was going on between Orion and her, Lizzie might just as well bury herself alive.

Luckily, Orion wasn’t fazed by her question. “The only passion we share is the love for our music,” he smiled noncommittally. “As professional musicians we try to keep our public and private lives separated.”

Rita’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “You try to keep them separated?”

Before Lizzie couldn’t help it, her eyes flickered to Orion again.

“We have been friends for years, of course our lives intervene in places. The friendship between us we show to the world is genuine and not for show.”

“Friendship, huh?” Rita’s nostrils flared as her eyes swept the round. “Come on, we’re all adults here. So many gorgeous young people spending their time together all day, everyday? Don’t tell me you’re all staying up drinking apple juice and playing board games.”

Her attention shifted so suddenly that Lizzie was taken by surprise. “What about you, Lizzie? Any stories to tell?” She looked her up and down critically. “If you ask me, you and Jason would make quite the pair. The golden girl and the bad boy? People live for stories like that.”

Everett sighed wistfully. “Just call me Ev, Rita, everyone does. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling her for years now, but so far to no avail. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

Lizzie was relieved when he immediately started laughing his words off. “I’m joking of course; Orion is right. The band is our job and our management wants us to keep things professional. There’s other ways to live the rockstar lifestyle,” he finished with a wink.

Rita pursed her lips in a knowing smile. “That I believe in a heartbeat. Fill me in guys, between us, how is it with the ladies? The bad guy with an angel’s voice and the soulful songwriter and his magic hands… you must be spoiled for choice.”

Everett grinned and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t complain, is all I’m saying.”

“How about you Orion? Dark eyes, messy hair, all those tattoos - your fans must love this,” she winked with a sly smile, “At least I know where I would try to go after a show if I was a little younger.”

Lizzie tried very much not to roll her eyes.

“Even if they do, I wouldn’t know of it,” Orion answered serenely. “While I love all our fans dearly, my relationship with them ends when our show does.”

“So no stories behind your many tattoos? No tales of long lost love?”

“I didn’t say there are no stories,” Orion replied, “only that they have nothing to do with any fans of ours.”

Trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic, he started explaining the stories behind some of the less meaningful tattoos on his wrists and arms. Lizzie knew each and every one of them by heart, the pictures as familiar to her as Orion’s smile when she ran her fingers over his painted skin.

What he didn’t mention was the biggest of his tattoos and her favourite one; the giant dreamcatcher running along the whole length of his back. Thinking about the intricate lines made a little smile appear on her face.

She didn’t even notice Rita asking her way through the rest of her friends until the reporter’s attention turned to her.

“All of your friends seem to be quite the fans of body art; what about you, Lizzie? Do you have any tattoos as well?”

Lizzie flashed Rita the brilliant but noncommittal smile reserved for the people she just couldn’t stand. “I do have one, yes.”

Rita raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And where might that be?”

Lizzie chuckled in response. “That will stay my little secret.”

Her gaze was fixed on Rita, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Orion fighting hard to suppress a grin. Of course, he knew exactly where it was.

Rita blinked, clearly irritated by her answer, the same empty smile that was on Lizzie’s face never leaving her red lips.

“Very well, keep your secret - for now. I’ll find out eventually.”

Her smile broadened, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes. “All secrets have their way of ending up with me, one way or another.”

Rita stood up from her armchair to get herself something to drink. When she turned her back on them, Lizzie slowly breathed out, relieved to have the blonde’s prying eyes taken off her.

As the others got up to leave the set as well, Orion and Lizzie’s eyes met for a moment. A smile was playing around his lips as they dropped to where her tattoo was hidden from everybody else’s sight.

She felt her lips curve into a smile of her own and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hand resting over the small spot on her ribcage where the words that resonated with her so much were inked into her skin. Seeing what she was doing, Orion couldn’t contain his grin any longer. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, the memory of when he had first seen them was playing just as vividly in his mind as it did in hers.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #merula snye #skye parkin #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate

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violet-knox · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, can you do Adult Severus/Muggle. Reader finds Severus and takes it upon herself to look after him? Can it be fluff and cute af, please?

Long Forgotten

Pairing: Severus Snape x Muggle!Reader

Summary: You’re infatuated by the man in black who hangs around the school where you work until one day you approach him out of concern.

Word Count: 6112

A/N: So I got a bit carried away with this one. The fluff comes a bit after and in this story they don’t actually end up together (yet), it’s rather slow paced, but it was a lot of fun to write. I may end up doing part two for this one when I get the chance. I feel so unsatisfied 😅

Your stomach growled and you knew it was time to pack up the essays you’d been grading and head home for dinner. But once again, the shadow hidden behind the tree at the edge of the playground wiped any thought you had of leaving the classroom. The same man, always dressed in black, always dragging his feet like he held the world on his shoulders, had been lurking around the edge of the school grounds every day for a little over a week now and the sight of him always sent shivers up your spine. You were wary of his presence, always caught in the corner of your eye as you stayed behind in your classroom despite better judgment.

Common sense told you to speak to someone of the man’s daily visits to the school, yet you were reluctant to say a word to anyone. He would always show up well after the students had left and he’d never wander anywhere past that tree. He didn’t seem like a threat to you, his sadness instead reflected by the way he’d hang his head low, one hand on the tree trunk, sinking down to the ground as he continued to stare at it. You knew he had a story, a reason for being there but you’d never once thought of approaching him to ask, fear striking you back. You were conflicted and so you stayed the observer, watching him from afar, his movements never changing, his intentions never present. He was a mystery that you weren’t sure you’d ever solve.

“You’re still here?” Looking up from the desk you saw Ms. Simmons at the door of her classroom with a smile as large as her optimism. She was such a sweet woman, under appreciated by her students and misunderstood by the staff. But you were happy to have been assigned to her, helping and learning from her. Most of your mates from college complained about the teacher they got placed with but not you. Ms. Simmons was the one good thing about the miserable placement you got: the worst ranking elementary school in Cokeworth. Many saw it as a joke of a school, yet children of varying households would attend it nonetheless.

“I’m just finishing up the essay’s they handed in today,” you informed her. She walked over to her desk where you were sitting and pulled open one of the drawers and reached inside. You watched her pull out an empty flask and stuff it into her giant purse, shattering your perfect, innocent view of her.

“I’ve worked here since the day this school has opened and never have I seen someone as dedicated to work with these students as you are.” She spoke with such glee in her voice but when you looked back into her eyes, all that optimism you’d previously admired sizzled away, replaced with the burden of working as an underpaid teacher in such a horrible school district. Your eyes drifted away from her face, unable to take the sight, your mind rejecting what you saw as your probable future. Instead you found your thoughts returning back to the man in black as you watched him hunching over the tree with one hand leaning on it’s trunk as he slowly kneeled down to the ground, his head hung as low as ever.

“I’m just delighted to have the opportunity to work with you.” Your words flowed like you were reading off a script, your mind completely detached from where you were, wondering why that man was so obsessed over that tree.

“Well don’t stay too long.” You snapped back in time to watch Ms. Simmons walk around you and back to the door. “Have a nice night!”

“You too,” you said, trying to reciprocate her fake kindness as she disappeared down the narrow school halls. Sitting back in the chair, you tossed the pen in your hand back on the desk in defeat. This job wasn’t worth it and you’d been lying to yourself, believing it was anything but a waste of time. You’d only gone into education thinking you could make a difference in the sad meagre town you grew up in when in reality, any impact you could possibly have wouldn’t make a shred of difference to anyone.

With a loud groan, you closed your eyes and threw your head back in frustration. What would you do if you quit this job? Four years of college down the drain and even if you tried to move to a different city, London perhaps, you knew your credentials wouldn't hold up amongst the competition that awaited you there. You had no choice; you had to stay in Cokeworth and make what you could of the path you chose, else you’d have to back pedal completely and find a way to head down a different road.

Looking back towards the window, you looked for the man in black, trying to get your mind off your own life because pondering over the mystery of someone else's was better than dealing with your reality. The man’s figure was nowhere to be found when you looked at the tree. Squinting you thought perhaps his shadow had merged with the trunk he’d been sulking over for so long, but you still couldn’t catch a glimpse of him. He couldn’t have left. You knew that because you’d always refused to leave before he did. He was the reason you’d eat dinner so late, why you’d been living off of four to five hours of sleep every night. Curiosity taking over any sense of logic, you stood and walked towards the window, realizing you couldn’t see him from the desk because he’d somehow found himself lying on the ground. Taking a step forward, you placed a hand on the window, your brows furrowed as you tried to make out any sense of movement, any indication the man was alright but you were given no such luck.

You stood there a moment, praying he would move but as the seconds slowed, your heart beat faster and your concern for the stranger grew. Against better judgment, you turned on your heel and ran out the door. The sounds of your quick footsteps echoed down the empty hall as you pushed open the door leading to the playground and ran towards the man, slowing as you approached him. He was in the exact same position you’d seen him from the classroom window but as you drew nearer, you couldn’t fathom why he was unconscious on the ground.

“Hello?” You tried to speak to the man. No response. He looked young, perhaps even a bit younger than you and you couldn’t spot any wounds on him though the black trousers and jacket surely didn’t help with visibility. “Are you alright?”

No response. Stepping a little closer, you kneeled in front of him, your hand hovering to reach for his shoulder but you hesitated. This was a bad idea. You didn’t know the man and for all you knew, he could have been stalking you this entire time, peering into the classroom window which was much more exposed than you thought it was from here.

“Can you hear me?” You tried again, your hand pressed against the thin material of his jacket, gently squeezing his shoulder. No response. You swallowed hard, your chest heaving for air. What were you to do? You’d never trained for something like this, never been told what to do in a situation like this. Desperately, you peered over the man and his surroundings, no open wounds found but his chest still rose and fell with every breath he took; he was alive at least.

Standing, you looked at the tree the man had spent so long near and saw an engraving, one that was clearly done a while ago, the wood browning as the tree healed from its carving. Judging by the height and sloppy handwriting, you assumed the two names that were spelt were written by children: Lily and Sev. Sev, what an odd name, or perhaps it was a nickname of some sort. Strange how you’d never noticed it before, but there was no time for your curiosity right now. Sprinting back to the school, you made your way to the office, panting as you picked up the phone and called the police, informing them of what had happened.

With the assurance that an ambulance would be by within a few minutes, you put down the phone and made your way back to the man, immediately peering at his chest to see that he was still breathing. The women on the phone had asked if the man had a pulse but you were unsure. You’d seen people check a person’s pulse in movies, but you’d never done it yourself. You felt absolutely useless talking to that woman, unable to tell her a single thing, not even a proper description of the man.

Peering at the man’s face through the hair that showered him, your eyes ventured down to his neck, his hair long enough to cover any skin that wasn’t cloaked by the black button up he was wearing under his jacket. Cautiously, you moved a hand to ever so gently brush away his hair and expose his face and neck. It felt as though you were defusing a bomb, fingers so gentle, gliding against his skin which seemed colder than it should have been. Pulling your hand away, you looked back down at him, realizing how awkward a move you’d just made. He wasn’t anyone you knew, yet you touched him as though you were waking up to your long-life partner in the morning.

It was odd seeing his face for the first time after recognizing him from afar for so long. He wasn’t anything like you imagined, his features though prominent, grew much softer the longer you looked at him. His eyelashes were long and thick, much like his hair and eyebrows, his lips were thin, his cheeks sharp along with his jaw and his nose was hooked. Looking at him now, you weren’t sure how old he was. You’d initially assumed he was in his early twenties but something about him made you think otherwise. It was as though he’d lived a life long enough to stretch over a century, but you knew that wasn’t the case, it couldn’t have been.

Shaking your head, you tried to get your mind off of filling in all those questions you’d wondered about him this past week and reached over, pressing two fingers on his neck, searching for a pule, unsure of what you were truly looking for. No resp-

You gasped at the sudden grasp on your wrist, the charcoal eyes of the man staring back at you as his nails dug into your skin. Your heart nearly stopped as you looked at his stern expression, his body too weak to project the alarm on his face.

“Are-Are you alright?” You croaked, your throat suddenly dry as you tried to pull your hand away from him. His grasp was too strong despite his obvious need for medical attention. Where was that damn ambulance!?

“Who are you?” His voice was raspy, like there was a frog in his throat but his tone confirmed he was on the defensive, unable to let go of your hand in fear of your intentions. His words at least answered one question floating around in your mind; he hadn’t come around the school this past week to stalk you, he was likely here for personal reasons, something to do with that tree and the engraving it carried.

“I-I work at the school, I-I'm a student teacher,” you said, reluctant to give your name, still completely clueless as to who he was. The man looked down at the school you gestured to, his expression suddenly changing as if he had some sort of awkward realization. “I think you’re hurt.”

You could still not identify the source of his wound, but people don’t just collapse, they don’t struggle to speak or move if there isn’t something wrong with them. You wanted to help the man despite his less than friendly attitude towards you, but you still had no idea what to do.

“I’m fine,” he replied, finally letting go of your hand only to press his palms into the ground and try to stand up. Instinctively, you grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from falling as his legs shook failing at supporting him. He was skinny, his limbs looking like twigs the kids would play with, pretending they were swords. How he’d managed to sit up was beyond you.

“I don’t think you should be moving.” You protested as he tried pushing you away, too weak to counter your own strength. “I called for an ambulance. They should be here any minute.”

“No,” he said all too quickly. “I don’t need them.”

His sudden reaction to the mention of an ambulance was rather alarming. Who would turn down help when they so obviously needed it? Even if it seemed that the ambulance would never arrive, at least he could have found comfort in knowing help was on its way.

“But-”

“Leave.” His tone turned cold as he summoned every fibre of strength left in his body to push you away. “I don’t need you either.”

You looked at him, stunned by his attitude. Sure, you were a stranger, but in his position, you wouldn’t have questioned taking any sort of help from anyone. His body trembled under your touch as he tried to get away from you, like if he’d stayed here any longer, all his secrets would be spilled, exposing themselves to you. You let go of him as he got to his feet, his body immediately seeking aid, throwing itself onto the tree to keep himself upright. You heard a low groan escape his lips as his entire upper body placed its dependence on the tree he’d been obsessed with this past week.

“I can’t just leave you here,” you said, your hands grasping him to ease the pressure off his frail legs. He seemed to finally accept your aid at first until you felt him regain some of his balance enough to push you away once again.

“I told you-”

“I’m not leaving!” you exclaimed in protest, your grip on him returning stronger than before. Clear shock was written all over his face as he looked at you blankly, wide eyed. You’d surprised yourself with your own assertive demeanour and clearly it had the same effect on him. You were inclined to give credit to your position as a teacher for your need to help the man, but it was more than that. He was a book you wanted to read, one filled with sadness and loneliness. You could see in his eyes the abandonment he’d been through, something you were all too familiar with. He wasn’t used to depending on anyone, thus the resistance he showed you now, your own determination countering it as you insisted on providing him aid, any sort of aid, no matter how little. “Let me at least help get you inside”.

You gestured to the school, your grip on his arm loosening when he finally stopped resisting you. You looked at him and you felt time stop, something new appearing in the depths of the darkness in his eyes. Hope was a powerful feeling, one that showed up in many forms. You’d felt it the day you met Ms. Simmons and now, you could see it emulated in the eyes of the man in black.

“No. Not here.” Whatever spell grasped you to his mind was broken when he looked back towards the school and as he spoke, you could sense a drastic change in his tone. He was much more relaxed, much warmer towards you, a sense of trust growing between you for reasons you couldn’t understand. “I-I need to go home.”

His lack of energy emulated itself in his voice. He seemed to have accepted the situation he was in, yet still seemed reluctant to accept proper help. There was only so much you could do for him, a hospital being the best place for him to be not his home.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” you protested his request, feeling rather nervous about his odd behaviour. It was human to accept help when offered so why was he so adamant on rejecting it?

“Please, if you want to help me, leave me be.” He sounded desperate, as if it was imperative for you to leave him to his own demise, like he’d die if you dare give him any aid. “I cannot go to a hospital. They cannot help me there.”

“Why?” His words told you one thing while his tone spoke the opposite. He’d been claiming he didn’t need you, that he didn’t need anyone’s help yet you sensed something entirely different from the way he spoke, the way he eased into your touch when he began to trust you.

“That is beyond your concern, now please let me go,” he said, his body making no motion to push you away either out of protest for his words or he was simply too weak to do as he wished. You couldn’t tell. His voice was still so raspy, even more so than before now that he’d started to let go of that defensive behaviour he’d taken with you.

“If you insist on going home, then at least let me drive you. My car is just over there.” You pointed towards the parking lot to the side of the school, not too far from where you stood. The man looked over to where you pointed and took a moment before hesitantly nodding in agreement to your suggestion. Slowly, you helped him walk down the hill to cross the school park, making your way to your car. You opened the passenger side door first and helped him in before jogging to the other side of the car.

“Your seatbelt,” you reminded the man, pointing to it as you fastened your own. Surely if he had enough energy to push you away, he would have enough energy to clip in a seatbelt. The man looked at you with that blank expression again before he rolled his eyes and slowly reached for the seatbelt. Funny how the man who seemed to be on the brink of death not moments ago continued to elude any sort of aid, even if it was from something as simple as a seatbelt. “Where are we going?”

“Spinner’s End,” he mumbled, the click of his seatbelt your queue to turn on the engine and leave the parking lot. You kept your eyes on the road but could feel the man’s black eyes on you, like he was studying you as you’d studied him over the past week. Fate must have a twisted sense of humour if this was where you were meant to be, driving an injured stranger to his home after pondering over the mystery that surrounded him the past few days.

“You know where Spinner’s End is?” The man asked, clearly surprised you hadn’t asked for directions.

“I used to live in the neighbourhood when I was growing up,” you explained, knowing most people in this town would rather pretend like the area around Spinner’s End didn’t exist before acknowledging there were actual people leaving there. It was reputations like that that made you adamant on changing the town, on trying to impact its youth. But of course, it was reputations like that of Spinner’s End that would live past the lifetime of the city itself.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said, his voice sounding a little weaker but at least he seemed to be relaxing in the car instead of fighting to get away from you under that tree.

“You say that as if you know every single person on Spinner’s End,” you said, smiling at his claim, trying to lighten the mood a bit after everything that had happened. For a short moment you felt like you were driving with a friend, someone you’d known for years but the awkward silence thickening the air broke that illusion all too quickly. You looked over towards the man and saw that blank expression on his face again, like his mind had wandered somewhere else as he stared at you. “I-umm, I moved away when I was old enough, went to school in London and came back to teach here.”

No response. The silence was quite deafening, but the awkwardness had begun to fade when he took his eyes off you, choosing to stare out the window instead, leaning his head back on the headrest. The feeling of friendly company returned as your grip on the steering wheel loosened. You didn’t mind the silence, for some reason, it felt soothing with him sitting beside you and you didn’t even know the man’s name.

“You chose to work here?” His delayed reaction took you a bit by surprise, but you found it rather warming. There was something about him, something about your dynamic with him you couldn’t quite get your finger on. All you knew was that you needed to find out more. You needed to find out more about him and why you felt such a connection to him.

“I wanted to make a difference,” you shrugged in response, feeling as though your story wasn’t interesting enough to go into. You arrived at his home a few minutes later, spending the rest of the car ride accompanied by the man in black and the settling silence that surrounds you. Turning off the engine, you undid your seatbelt, hearing the sound of his own coming undone. Quickly opening the door, you ran over to help him out of the car, the man already stepping out, trying to get to the door on his own but his body was still so weak, still so fragile.

“Do you need-”

“No-” He’d rejected your help before you could even offer it, trying and failing to get to his porch by himself. Neither of you said a word as you helped him up to his door, carefully letting him go, watching as he reached inside his pocket to fish out his keys.

“I-I can take it from here,” he said as he went to unlock his door. You stood there like a rejected puppy wanting to come home but the man had barely opened the door enough for him to slip through, leaving you on the other side of the door.

“My-my name is (Y/N), I-I realized I never introduced myself,” you said quickly before he could close the door on you. You didn’t want to leave him, whether it was because of the infinite amount of questions floating around in your head or simply to make sure he would survive the night you didn’t care. All you knew was that you couldn’t leave him, this wasn’t the end of your interaction with him. He wasn’t going to close the door never to be seen by you again.

“I- umm-” The man had frozen when you spoke, the door neither open nor closed and for a second you thought perhaps he’d obliged to you offering your company. “Thank you for your help.”

His words rung in your ears, his tone stuck in your mind as you watched his cloaked self disappear behind the door. He was gone, but your worry for him remained. You heard the sound of the lock clicking into place, followed by a loud thump. You stepped forward, placing one hand on the door, the other balled into a fist, your knuckles pressed against the etched wood, ready to request entrance. But it was your heart that pounded instead, begging him to open the door, to let you know he would be okay.

You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were tired of being pushed away and you were afraid of what might happen if he put any more effort into rejecting your help. Afraid you may do more harm than good, you slowly took a step back, trying your best to let go of that compulsive need to care for others until you found yourself back in your car.

Looking back at the house, you examined each window, trying to find any sign of life, anything to let you know he hadn’t dropped dead the second he locked the door. The house looked back at you offering you nothing but more questions. The place looked like it was uninhabited for years. Like the owners had decided one day the house wasn’t worth caring for, that it was a waste of space and that abandonment was the only solution.

Against instinct, you put your keys in the ignition and turned on the car engine. A small sigh escaped your lips as you put the car into first gear, slowly pressing down on the accelerator to drive away. Your eyes shifted between the road and your rear-view mirror, your mind still hoping the house would come alive but you were given no such luck.

Sleep didn’t find you that night. Your mind instead continued to replay the events of that evening over and over again. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt about leaving him there. More than once you contemplated driving back over there if not to simply observe him from afar like you had this past week at the school.

The sun finally rose, and you immediately jumped up to shower and make yourself a cup of coffee. You made your way to the only supermarket you knew would be open this early in the morning and went shopping for a few items before hurrying back to your car and making your way to the man in black on Spinner’s End. You once again found yourself frozen in place, staring at the forgotten house, waiting for it to come alive. Nothing had changed from last night, not one single movement was found through the windows that remained shut. The house was locking what it held away from the rest of the world, never to be seen by anyone or anything.

Despite its uninviting vitality, you still pushed open your car door, locking it as you gripped the paper bag in your hand tightly. Your heartbeat grew heavier with every step you took towards the house until you felt it stop the second you found yourself in front of the door. Once again, your knuckles were pressed against the wood, waiting for your queue to rap. Your heart settled in your chest, quiet in anticipation as it approved your request and let you knock on the door four times. Knock, knock, knock, knock.

No response. You could feel the protest in your chest, the ache from the silence of the morning but you made no motion to walk away. Instead, you tried again: knock, knock, knock, knock.

Was it you? Had he seen you from the window, identified your car and decided you weren’t worth opening the door for? Or had you made the grave mistake of leaving him to his injuries last night? You were no longer concerned with knowing the man, of having your questions answered, you needed to know he was alright, that you hadn’t killed a man by fulfilling his request of being left alone.

Knock, knock, knock-

The door opened and your mind drew blank. Staring back were the same black eyes you’d spent all night thinking about, his expression blank once more, his hair the same stringy black streaks, his cloak removed to show his lanky body.

“It’s (Y/N). From-from last night,” you croaked out, your throat suddenly dry. His face softened when you spoke, the door opening just a little wider. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and give you this.”’

You showed him the bag in your hand, but his eyes kept lingering on yours. He stared at you, into your soul, reading your empty mind, flipping through your emotions like a book, or at least, that’s how it felt. His stare wasn’t one you’d ever seen before. He looked at you like you were a puzzle to be solved, a mystery to be discovered. Like he was seeking for something he could never really find. Your thoughts were interrupted by his gaze shifting down to your hands, his face giving away nothing but more questions.

“It’s not much. A few home remedies, some tea and a first aid kit,” you tried to answer whatever questions were lingering in his own mind, hoping he would return the favour as you took a closer look at the man. He looked perfectly healthy, not a single sign of injury, like yesterday never happened. The way he looked at you now like he was shuffling the puzzle pieces in frustration, unable to figure you out. You began to wonder if you’d indeed hallucinated the entire evening and we're intruding on the home of a complete stranger.

“Why would you give me this?” he asked.

“You were hurt yesterday, or so it seemed. And I-I just thought since you didn’t want to go to the hospital you could use something to help you recover.” You tried to explain, to justify your presence not just to him but to yourself. Of course, you hadn’t spoken the whole truth, leaving out the fact you felt drawn to him, that you wanted to figure him out, listen to his story. But it didn’t matter as it seemed your words had eased him enough to open the door for you.

“Would-would you like some tea?” His offer took you back. He’d been so cold yesterday, his immediate reaction when he first met you to push you away and now here he was, inviting you in for tea. It was now your turn to stare into his eyes, frozen in the moment. Loneliness and despair stared back at you. You felt bad for the man as he started to open himself to you, his expression finally displaying a hint of his emotions. With a smile, you took a step inside, watching as he closed the door behind you, gesturing for you to take a seat on the old and forgotten couch.

“Why are you so insistent on helping me?” he asked as you placed the bag on the table in front of you, the man taking a seat on the armchair adjacent to you. He was trying to solve you again, his eyes narrow, his hands folded in front of his chin.

“I-I don’t know really. I’ve seen you around the school before and when I saw you weren’t moving yesterday, I thought something horrible had happened.” you said, finding his glare rather intimidating. You sank back in your seat, your back hitting the couch as you placed your hands on your lap. “I just wanted to help.”

He looked away from you, his hands falling onto the armrests. His defences had fallen once more, your words somehow assuring him of your intentions. He believed you and you weren’t sure why.

“Thank you,” he said, speaking to his lap more so than to you. His reluctance to accept help was rather astounding. He seemed hurt somehow, as if showing his gratitude to you would be to show weakness, to admit he was human. “I haven’t… It’s-it’s been a while since anyone has shown me kindness.”

You looked at him in surprise. Yes, the people didn’t take kindly to those living in this part of the town but surely he didn’t mean what he said. “That’s an awfully sad thing to say.”

You spoke softly, feeling rather nervous, not wanting to offend the man in any way. He however didn’t seem to care much for your thoughts, his eyes meeting yours once again.

“Perhaps,” he said simply, letting the silence settle in as you both sat there, wondering about each other.

“Have you lived here long?” You’d shifted through your many questions, trying to pick the best to ask without sounding horribly eerie.

“I grew up here,” he said, indulging you in the small talk you’d requested, but his answer only kept you guessing, feeling rather excited as you began to wonder if the name ‘Sev’ from the tree back at the school belonged to him or someone he knew. “And like you, I’ve recently returned.”

“And you chose to return here?” You giggled, referencing the comment he’d made last night about your job choice. The man smiled in response, a singular chuckle puffing out his chest. Your own grin grew, his elated expression contagious. He looked rather sweet in this moment, the harshness of his defensive nature gone, the sadness in his eyes replaced with temporary joy, his smile softening his features. You felt like you could speak with him all day in that moment, but it was gone all too soon, his smile fading along with your own as his anguish returned.

“I needed a reminder.” he said, his eyes fixed on his lap, his hair falling in front of his face, the curtains closing on that brief moment of bliss you’d found with him.

“A reminder?” You asked hesitantly. Silence fell once again and you felt the air thicken, the room around you somehow darker than before. The man slowed his breathing as he stared blankly into his lap, keeping his face hidden behind his curtain of hair.

“I’ve recently lost someone.” His voice was as low as his posture, his shoulders hunched defensively as if he wasn’t worthy of receiving comfort for his loss.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said simply, knowing nothing you could say would help ease his mind from whatever pain he felt. You sat there a while, waiting patiently for him to collect himself, the curtains opening not long after, a look of wonder and empathy meeting you. You happily eased into a different subject, speaking of your time as a teacher, hoping he would bring up the story behind the engraving on the tree but it was clear whatever memory attached to that story was too painful to hash up right now. You still indulged him in some small talk until you realized it was time to head to work.

“I’m sorry. I invited you in for tea and neglected to make you any,” the man looked guilty, liked he’d offended you in some way but you simply smiled, preferring the conversation you’d had over awkwardly sipping tea anyways.

“That’s alright,” you chuckled. Turning around, you faced him as he opened the front door. Taking a small step forward, you felt the heat rise to your face as you tried to summon up any courage you had left. “Perhaps you could make it up to me this evening?”

You could hear nothing but your heart beating, waiting for his answer, fear that you overstepped bubbling up in your mind. But you waited patiently and watched that blank expression of his soften, hope staring back at you as he nodded in agreement. Your smile returned to your face as you told him you’d be by tonight after work. As you stepped out of the house, the man spoke, turning your attention back to him one last time.

“My name is Severus.” Sev. “Severus Snape.”

Your mind was wiped clean, replaced with an abundance of new questions, Who’s Lily? Was she the one he’d lost? Is she the reason he’d hung around your school this past week? Is she the reason you’d met this mysterious man?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Severus Snape.” Your smile stretched from ear to ear and you felt a spark of joy ignite in your chest, one you thought would never return since you’d come back to Cokeworth. Extending out your hand to him, you felt his thin, ice cold fingertips graze your palm as he captured it. You walked back to your car and Severus Snape, the man in black, kept his door open as he watched you buckle in. He was too far to read his face yet not far enough to know how he felt; serene, rejuvenated, content. For the first time in a long time, you were happy to go to work, looking forward to the day as you were sure he must have felt. For the first time in a long time, you’d pushed aside your worries and focussed on the present. You’d found yourself again and all it took was a simple conversation with a mysterious stranger.

@raven-hopeflyte @sleepysnapesnake @wanderingtrails @darkthought15 @bush-viper-cutie @fluffymadamina @dracos-mudblood @mitchiesdungeon @severuslovebot

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stillchaoticlogic · 5 years ago

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Descent: Chapter 2

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Leon only thought he was the most powerful trainer in Galar...

He never battled you though.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: No Use Going Back to Yesterday

The sound of boots echo off the cement floor as you walk into the empty space. Leon follows close behind as he regards the large warehouse with intrigue and confusion.

“This is where we are training?” he asks as he looks around.

“The others will be here soon, you will refer to them as Knight and Ten.”

“Knight and Ten?”

“Yep those are code names, it’s how we protect our identity.”

“So what do you call me?”

“Ace,” you call over your shoulder as you move farther into the warehouse, “At the Battleground, you are the Ace of Spades. My Ace of Spades. Your current goal is to not be an Ace anymore.”

“So it’s just our position?” he asks as he readjusts his cap on his head.

“Pretty much…”

“Why?”

“It keeps it simple plus it establishes rank. You are an Ace, a one,” you regard the man in front of you. Vaguely you wonder about his need to be number one. Why the number means so much to him.

“What would you do if you weren’t doing this?” he asks as he follows you into the depths of the building still looking around with unrestrained awe.

“Never thought about it.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shoots back with a frown.

You turn and gaze steadily into his eyes, “This isn’t about me,” you say holding his gaze, “This is about you and your obsessive need to be the strongest. Perhaps it’s therapy that you need.”

He looks affronted by your words as if no one as ever dared to speak to him like that and honestly they probably haven’t. When you’re on top everyone wants you to like them. They want to be your best friend so they can ride your coattails to the top. They want all the glory with none of the work. The Underground is all work. And you won’t mince words for anyone especially an entitled ex-champion.

“Be ready Ace, this is about to be one of the hardest days of your life,” you say with a smirk as you turn to begin setting up the makeshift arena.

The duo arrives about twenty minutes later. Knight is a young man in his mid-twenties with jet black hair and steely grey eyes, as well as handsome and reliable and that crush you have on him is dangerous. He has a stoic and quiet demeanor much like the steel types that he favors. And did you mention that he’s your right hand and your most loyal teammate? You’ve been itching to put him in charge of one of the teams to be your ally, but you’ve been reluctant to let him go. You like him where he is and he likes where he is and as long as everyone is happy what does it matter? However, now there is danger and Clubs and Diamond have gotten more aggressive with you and you know the time has come.

In comparison, Ten is young and pretty much a prodigy with battling. She comes from the rougher part of the city and couldn’t afford to take the challenge. She’s just shy of seventeen and is a pervertible ray of sunshine. Her choice to train electric types is no surprise of yours. She has a Toxtricity of her own that almost rivals your own and you couldn’t be prouder. She will be a great Queen.

“We’re overthrowing Clubs and Diamond so that I can make you the new King and Queen,” you say as you start the meeting.

Both of them just blink at you in confusion.

“Wait… What??” questions Ten disbelief in her voice as she regards you like actual royalty.

Knight gazes off into the distance before he just nods, “I figured you to do as much. They have gotten dangerous lately and with the former champion on our team, we will be even more of a target.”

You nod your affirmation to your right hand, “I need you two to pick your successor. They need to be trustworthy and ready to fill your position not just in strength but in reliability.”

Knight nods as he regards you with his steely eyes, “I know who I would like as my successor.”

“Already?” you ask with a tilt of your head. You know he’s been considering this of course, and you know it will be Seven. He’s been paying attention to the young man, guiding him along the path. He has yet to choose a typing to specialize in, but you have a feeling it will be steel. Knight is highly revered among your team.

“Seven, he is capable and loyal.”

“To you.”

He looks up at you in surprise, “Groom him, you will need a good Knight after you have established your rule, in the meantime, Nine will be better suited to take your position.”

Nine is almost as large as Clubs and almost just as boisterous. He’s a lot more steady though lacking Clubs quick temper and conniving ways. He deals in Ground-types and is a powerhouse in his own right. You know he would already be your number 10 if he didn’t have a soft spot for Ten. He sees her as a younger sister and has come to her aid many times over.

“What about you Ten? Any thoughts on who will take over your position?”

She puts her hand up to her chin and sways from side to side as she thinks, “Five!”

“Five?” you ask in surprise, “That’s a low rank… How do you think you will get her where she needs to be?”

She shrugs nonchalantly, “She trains Psychic types, you know she will be fine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question…” you trail off as you regard her and she just shrugs with an easy smile.

“Fine fine… start training her and you’re already close with Diamond’s Ten, he will make a good Knight for you.”

She blushes and avoids your gaze as you send her a knowing look.

“Should I tell him?” she asks hesitantly.

“No, this doesn’t leave the five of us and those you trust to take your place, and even then I don’t want them knowing just yet.”

They nod as you signal the meeting is over, “Time to train!”

The four of you start a rigorous training regime. You aren’t surprised when Five, Nine, and Seven show up, in that order. They all jump right in and you can’t help but be proud of your team. Once everyone has finished their exercises you pull Leon to the center of the ring.

“Stamina,” you announce as you all circle him.

“Stamina?” he asks looking back at you bewildered.

“You lack stamina. Ranks are based on how far you can get in the competition. Rank is established here with your teammates. We have two months until our next Ranking tournament. Your rank is where you fall in the team. Unfortunately, for you, after you won the cup and became champion you were automatically considered a finalist, so you’ve forgotten what it’s like to claw your way to the top. To victory. You’ve stood at the top of the mountain for too long so now you and your Pokemon have simply needed power, but power is nothing without stamina. That is why your Charizard fell so quickly. That is why you fell in battle after only three competitors despite your power. Those who are ranked higher have honed their ability to last longer in battle. We shall start there.”

He blinks at you in astonishment. You know he’s never had to face that many competitors in a row before. He’s so used to the same thing over and over again he’s compliant.

“That’s why?”

“Yes.”

He nods as he looks down a sense of determination radiating from him before he raises his head and regards his team.

“These are your competitors, but also your teammates. You compete among them for rank, but in battle royals, they are your greatest allies. Three months until a battle royal will take place and four for the Tournament. The Tournament is the only time a King or Queen can be overthrown. It is a winner take all battle and everyone has to bring their very best. Now show us what you’ve got.”

Leon falls after the second battle and you can feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“Tomorrow we are going on a field trip…” you mutter as you turn away from Leon, “That’s all for today, team! Excellent job! Seven and Nine will report to Knight for a personalized battle plan and Five will report to Ten.”

Everyone nods and you can see the disappointment on Leon’s face.

“Come on Ace… We’re going to get a drink…”

“I really shouldn’t…” he hesitates.

“Shouldn’t what? Have a drink? How tight of a leash did Rose have you on?” you throw over your shoulder as you head outside.

He winces at your question, “Uhh…”

Your voice softens as you realize just what kind of life he’s led, “Hey… Come on… One drink won’t hurt… I promise I won’t tell anyone that the great Leon had a beer.” You wink when you catch his gaze. He sends you a small smile and a nod. You can tell he’s still hesitant and he probably doesn’t trust you as far as he can throw you, but he follows along behind you anyway.

“So…” he begins as you head down the road to the car hidden in the bushes. Leon practically chokes when he sees what you drive.

“How?”

You glance innocently back at him, “What?” you ask before a Cheshire smile breaks out onto your face, “You don’t like it?”

The black Liepard A-Type gleams back at him as he gazes in awe at the car.

“How do you afford this?!”

You tilt your head at him as you send a secret smile and bring your finger to your lips before you get into the driver’s side. He slides in and starts inspecting the interior with the reverence of someone in a holy place.

“I don’t understand why you are excited, can’t you afford one of these?” you ask as you rev the engine, and Leon practically purrs back at it.

“Rose wouldn’t let me get one… He said that-”

“Who gives a shit what Rose thinks? He tried to destroy the world with his disillusioned idea and his obsession, not with clean energy but with infamy. He doesn’t own you anymore. Buy the damn car,” you bite.

Leon just blinks back at you in awe and you wonder just how much of his life and of himself has been nothing but a construct. A carefully curated persona for the public. A lifetime of ‘no’s’. No wonder he has no idea who he is outside of being champion, he’s spent the last decade being told what to do by everyone around him. His entire adult life has been meticulously maintained to project a certain image. The perfect image. The Unbeatable Champion. But what happens when the very core of your identity is being the unbeatable champion and then you are beaten? No one prepared him for the aftermath of loss.

“I will…” he says it softly as if he doesn’t even believe it himself.

“Good,” you say with satisfaction, “I’ll go with you. We can pick it out together.”

“Really?” he asks gazing at you like he doesn’t believe you.

“Of course! Invite your friends, I bet that dragon guy would love to help too.”

He looks out the window regarding the scenery as you fly down the road back towards the city.

“Yeah… I bet he would… He’s really busy with League business right now though. The new-” His gaze is unfocused as he thinks about his old life.

“Stop.”

He looks shocked when he glances over at you, but remains quiet.

“You aren’t part of that world anymore. You don’t live by that schedule. You have two months to gain rank and I have a couple more Aces to find. We’ve got some recruiting to do.”

“Recruiting?”

“What? You don’t think I just pick trainers out of the ether, do you? Let Lady Luck do her thing? Hell no. This is a war and you need the proper army.”

“I still fail to see how this is any different from the League that you all hate so much,” he grumbles as he regards you with his own kind of derision. He still looks like he would give you a hug at any moment so it’s lost on you.

“This is a way of life. A very beautifully choreographed dance if you will. Chance isn’t something that will favor you often. Loyalty. Reliability. Power. Cunning. That’s how you survive. That’s what you seek out. I didn’t become High Queen by trusting the first man to flirt with me, or the first woman to compliment my shoes. You shouldn’t either.”

He looks away, “I’m beginning to see what I’ve gotten myself into.”

“Just now?” you ask sarcastically, “Major himbo energy there big boy…”

He looks flabbergasted, not for the first time today, “Himbo? What? I’m not a himbo! And don’t call me big boy…”

You send him another sly smile, “You don’t like it when I call you Big Boy? What about studmuffin? Better?”

He blushes and looks away, “Absolutely not!”

“Arceus I’m going to have so much fun with you…”

He sends you a glare, “Is this a game to you?”

“You need to lighten up Big Boy! When was the last time you had fun?”

He looks up at the ceiling clearly deep in thought and your eyes widen, “Oh… dear… you know what? Don’t answer that… I don’t think I want to know if you have to think that hard about it.”

He looks affronted and turns back to you, “It’s not been that long!”

“If you have to do math then it’s been too long.”

He deflates a little bit at your reply and just nods in agreement, “You’re right… I can’t even remember the last time I was able to go out for a drink or go on a date.”

“Yeah… we are so not jumping down that rabbit hole tonight…”

He looks away and you notice the blush on his cheeks out of the corner of your eye as he does so. You giggle as you reach over and ruffle his hair making him whip back around to face you looking annoyed until he sees your face.

“Live a little…” you say softly catching his eye before turning back to the road.

He gives a determined nod as you pull up in front of the bar, far from the beaten path where no one will care if ex-champion Leon walks in. Or maybe they will, but he’s with you and no one questions what you do in your own bar.

“Come on Big Boy… Drinks on me…” you say as you stop in front him and grasp his shirt before pulling him down until he’s eye level with you. He chokes at the tug and the close proximity of your faces, clearly uncomfortable. He blinks at you in shock before you just send him an innocent smile and pat his cheek softly before you let go and lead the way into the bar.

The man follows you like a lost puppy.

Notes: I know this was a little bit of a filler and way too informative but I liked the interaction between Leon and Reader. I hope you did too! I hope it sets a little more of their relationship up. Please tell me your thoughts and drop some love! You can buy my affection with Likes and Comments!

#pokemon leon #leon x reader #leon imagine #champion leon #champion leon x reader #pokemon leon x reader #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon scenarios #descent #leon x you #reader insert #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield imagines

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gn349 · 2 years ago

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TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY

[Book cover for Thirteen Reasons Why]. (n.d.). Retrieved February 22, 2023, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thirteen_Reasons_Why

Thirteen Reasons Why follows Hannah Baker, a high school student, who leaves behind a series of cassette tape recordings detailing the thirteen reasons why she took her own life. There are seven double sided tapes, each being left for one specific person who she blames for her death and the events that happened. The tapes are posthumously sent to their respective recipients with detailed instructions to pass the tapes onto the next person named on the tape.

Thirteen Reasons Why tackles many different topics that are prevalent among teens, the most important being suicide and mental health. While this novel can be a bit triggering at times, it provides a very well written narrative that goes inside the brain of a teen who has struggled with betrayal, bullying, sex, and love. These topics are very difficult and fuzzy to navigate, especially when in high school, but Jay Asher does a fantastic job outlining these issues through the main narrator, Hannah. While I believe this book is a great read, the topics outlined in the novel are quite intense and can be hard to handle at times, especially for someone who is struggling with these issues. The novel has been a large topic of discussion when it comes to whether or not it should be removed from schools, libraries, and curriculums and while there may or may not be a decent argument behind these thoughts, it’s important to discusses these issues with teens and not ignore them or pretend they do not exist just because they are “hard topics to discuss”. Jay Asher’s personal experiences being a loose inspiration for the novel gives its a stronger story and deeper meaning and proves that these issues are very real and should be discussed. Additionally, Netflix jumped on the opportunity to turn this novel into a television series and this proved to be a major success. It’s no accident that teens were drawn to this show for its drama and relative topics.

When I first read this novel as a teen, I would say my rating was a 5/5, and rereading it as an adult, I can say it’s still a 5/5. I enjoyed the different perspective when rereading it at 27 years old. It was a bit harder to get through this time because of how emotionally challenging and relatable it felt. I don’t believe I was as emotionally invested my first time reading it, although it was highly relatable. While I think Netflix turning it into a series was a great marketing idea, I’m not sure I would like the show (I can’t make a definitive judgment because I’ve never seen it). Still, I’m the type that needs to read the novel before the adaptation, and once I watch the adaptation I tend to not like it as much as the original. All in all, still 5 stars!

AWARDS:

Abraham Lincoln Award winner

South Carolina Young Adult Book Award winner

International Reading Association Young Adults' Choice list

Writing Conference's Literature Festival

Best Books for Young Adults YALSA

Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers YALSA

Selected Audiobooks for Young Adults YALSA

California Book Award silver medal – Young Adult

youtube

Here is the official trailer for the Netflix series version of 13 Reasons Why.

#thirteen reasons why #young adult #book recommendations #mental heath awareness #mental health support #jay asher #netflix series #Youtube

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hollymbryan · 4 years ago

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Blog Tour + #Review: 10 TRUTHS AND A DARE by Ashley Elston (w/ #giveaway)!

Welcome to Book-Keeping and my stop on the Rockstar Book Tours blog tour for 10 Truths and a Dare by Ashley Elston! The tour is running for the whole month of May, and I for one can’t wait to see my fellow participants’ reviews. Read on to find out all the book details, just how much I loved this book, and how to win one of three copies up for grabs during the tour!

About the Book

title: 10 Truths and a Dare author: Ashley Elston publisher: Disney-Hyperion release date: 4 May 2021

This companion to Ashley Elston's beloved 10 Blind Dates follows Sophie's high-achieving cousin Olivia as she juggles last-minute P.E. credit, end-of-year parties, and a secret new romance in the chaotic week before graduation.

It's Senior Party Week, that magical in-between time after classes have ended but before graduation, chock-full of gimmicky theme parties, last-minute bonding, and family traditions. Olivia couldn't be more ready. Class salutatorian and confident in her future at LSU, she's poised to sail through to the next phase of her life.

But when the tiny hiccup of an unsigned off-campus P.E. form puts Olivia in danger of not graduating at all, she has one week to set things straight without tipping off her very big and very nosy extended family. Volunteering to help at a local golf tournament should do it, but since Olivia's mom equipped her phone with a tracking app, there'll be no hiding the fact that she's at the golf course instead of all the graduation parties happening at the same time. Unless, that is, she can convince the Fab Four--her ride-or-die cousins and best friends Sophie, Charlie, and Wes--to trade phones with her as they go through the motions of playing Olivia for the week.

Companion Book(s):

title: 10 Blind Dates author: Ashley Elston publisher: Disney-Hyperion release date: 1 October 2019

Add to Goodreads: 10 Blind Dates Purchase the Book: **Only 99cents for Kindle right now!!**

Praise for 10 Blind Dates by Ashley Elston: 2020 ALA Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Adult Readers Top Ten Title

2020 Florida Teens Read Book List

"POSITIVELY DELIGHTFUL—all caps—from beginning to end."—NPR "This piece-by-piece romance doesn't need its Christmas theme to sell, but it makes it glitter all the more."—Booklist "A fun story of finding love, getting to know yourself, and getting to know your family."—Kirkus Reviews "In a funny holiday romance that has Sophie dog-sitting in a hockey rink, watching porn at a drive-in theater, and playing the Virgin Mary in a middle school Nativity, Elston cleverly reflects the family members' personalities through their choices of dates for Sophie."—Publishers Weekly

About the Author

Ashley Elston is the author of several novels including: 10 Blind Dates (a Top Ten ALA Quick Pick and the companion to this book), The Rules for Disappearing (a finalist in the Best Young Adult Novel category of the International Thriller Writers Thriller Awards), This Is Our Story, and The Lying Woods. She has a liberal arts degree from Louisiana State University in Shreveport and worked for many years as a wedding photographer before turning her hand to writing. Ashley lives in Shreveport with her husband and three sons.

My 5-Star Review

Okay, I don’t know how I didn’t realize that 10 Truths and a Dare was a companion book to 10 Blind Dates until I started setting up this post, but I didn’t! I knew it had a similar title with the use of “10″ in numerical form, and I knew both covers had the “10″ in balloons, but somehow it didn’t occur to me that they were related, ha! But no matter, because while this is a companion, I can say as someone who did it that you can absolutely read this book without having previously read 10 Blind Dates. That said, I will absolutely positively be going back and reading 10 Blind Dates, because of how much I loved 10 Truths and a Dare!

Now that I’ve got that out of the way, let me just say: I LOVED THIS BOOK. I literally read it in one sitting on Saturday, having no idea how completely I would get sucked in to Olivia’s graduation drama but so happy that I did! I was laughing out loud so much that both my son and my husband poked their heads in to see what on earth I was doing that had me giggling so loudly! (Are they not used to hearing me happy, or what?!) From the moment the book starts you meet Olivia’s large, loud, loving - and did I say large?? - family, which I just adored from the word go. To be honest, it was the kind of family I wanted growing up, because we had a similar family - definitely Southern, not Italian, but everything revolved around food; lots of cousins, though they were second cousins, because my father was an only child but grew up super close with his own cousins; in a very small Southern town - but my siblings and I were on the periphery because my dad was in the Air Force and we moved around a lot. Although I actually enjoyed being a military brat, I often wished that we’d been able to grow up closer to our cousins and be as tight as they all were. Anyway, you get that feeling of closeness and true family love - even for the cousins who seem not to like each other very much! - from the get-go with Olivia’s family, and I was all in.

Olivia’s plan to salvage her place as salutatorian and being able to graduate with her class instead of having to take a half-credit of PE over the summer is crazy and leads to some hilarious situations - it reminded me, in the best way, of the kind of plot you’d see in an episode of I Love Lucy! Her cousins Charlie and Sophie and their best friend Wes - they’ve dubbed themselves The Fab Four - are the best kind of friends, the ones who’ll do anything you ask and have your back at all times (just don’t ask Charlie to respond to Olivia’s mom’s questions about undergarments!). Clearly, hijinks will ensue, and Olivia will have to do everything in her power to keep her parents from finding out what’s really going on. (Side note: the text exchanges from Olivia’s mom had me howling at points!)

I love everything about this awesome family, and I am instantly going back and reading 10 Blind Dates (especially since it’s only 99 cents for Kindle right now!!). I am also down for future stories with the Messinas, and I wonder if there’s at least one in the pipeline based on allusions to “the other side of the story” from the Evil Joes. Anyway, long story short, pick this one up! 10 Truths and a Dare is such a delightful, quick, satisfying contemporary. I seriously needed this book right when it came to me and I’m so glad I read it.

Rating: 10 stars! (okay, 5...)

**Disclosure: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for purposes of this blog tour. This review is voluntary on my part and reflects my honest rating and review of the book.

About the Giveaway

Three (3) lucky winners will each receive a finished copy of 10 Truths and a Dare by Ashley Elston! This one is US only and ends 4 June 2021. Enter via the Rafflecopter below, and good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Tour

Here is the full tour schedule so you can follow along for all the great content!

Week One:

5/1/2021 - The Book View - Review

Week Two:

5/2/2021 - What A Nerd Girl Says - Excerpt 5/3/2021 - YA Books Central - Excerpt 5/4/2021 - Fire and Ice - Review 5/5/2021 - BookHounds YA - Excerpt 5/6/2021 - YA Book Nerd - Review 5/7/2021 - Lifestyle of Me - Review 5/8/2021 - Moonlight Rendezvous - Review

Week Three:

5/9/2021 - Jenguerdy - Review 5/10/2021 - Ficticiouswonderland - Review 5/11/2021 - Book-Keeping - Review **you are here! 5/12/2021 - Amani’s Reviews - Review 5/13/2021 - booksaremagictoo - Review 5/14/2021 - Eli to the nth - Review 5/15/2021 - Emelie's Books - Review

Week Four:

5/16/2021 - Kait Plus Books - Excerpt 5/17/2021 - Zainey Laney - Review 5/18/2021 - onemused - Review 5/19/2021 - Midnightbooklover - Review 5/20/2021 - amandainpa - Review 5/21/2021 - Geauxgetlit - Review 5/22/2021 - two points of interest - Review

Week Five:

5/23/2021 - Book Briefs - Review 5/24/2021 - Momfluenster - Review 5/25/2021 - Star-Crossed Book Blog - Review 5/26/2021 - michellemengsbookblog - Review 5/27/2021 - Rajiv's Reviews - Review 5/28/2021 - Do You Dog-ear? - Review 5/29/2021 - Books and Zebras - Review

Week Six:

5/30/2021 - My Fictional Oasis - Review 5/31/2021 - Popthebutterfly - Review

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moonlight--cafe · 4 years ago

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{GENRE} ~ Hurt, AU, Slight Angst, Childhood Memories

{SYNOPSIS} ~ Where Jongho discovers an old photograph that leads him to a forgotten friend.

{WORD COUNT} ~ 1.8k+

{AUTHORS NOTE} ~ Hi loves! I’m leaving for my Christmas Vacation next week and will try and post a handful of things before I leave. I’ll still post ships but they may take longer since I’ll be leaving my laptop behind, in the mean time I wanted to post this. This was written for my birthday twin Jongho for the Atiny writing competition, it wasn’t posted anywhere besides the KQ forum. But alas this is finally seeing the day of light on this blog, this was the first thing I wrote after a year long writers block and this is basically what encouraged me to post more. I hope you like this and if you want to request anything (x reader or solo members like this) feel free to, this includes, headcanons, scenarios, mtl’s and any other pieces of writing. I won’t write smut at this stage but will possibly consider it in the future. P.S Apologies for the basic title, I had a catchier title but I didn’t write it down and it’s pretty much forgotten so Jongho’s Wanderings will have to do xoxo

“I was too young to know how to reach out to my lost friend. Where am I now? Where should I go?”

The egg yolk sun poured through Jongho’s blinds, its warmth causing him to stir. Despite his own reluctance to leave his bed he rose, reaching for his red coat lazily shrugging it on. He intended to make a quick dash out of his room but came to an abrupt stop when he heard something shatter from beneath him. Jongho huffed out a loud sigh as he knelt down brushing the glass aside, ignoring the slight sting of the glass jabbing into his fingers. Wiping the small droplets of blood on his coat he looked down at the weathered photograph. It depicted two young children, both wearing cheap pirate costumes and large gap-toothed smiles. Reaching for his backpack he pocketed the photograph between the pages of his speckled composition notebook. He had found the piece of hidden memory stuck to the bottom of a patchworked cardboard box, he recognized himself immediately but the other child remained a question mark up until this day.

Usually Jongho would have taken the most direct path to the track he trained at, however, his need for silence overweighed the need for getting there quicker. He instead decided to take a route that Yeosang had shown him, the shy, dreamer of the group had claimed that this was one of the few places where you could actually see the stars. Not that Jongho would know he was usually asleep during the ungodly hours that Yeosang was out exploring. Prompted by the eery silence Jongho’s mind wandered back to the days he remembered spending with that boy, each one happier than the last. The sudden realisation that he hadn’t felt the same happiness that he had felt back then left a sour taste in his mouth. It was as if when the question mark was erased it took all of his happiness with it.

Though he was only seven years old, Jongho had felt that he was smarter and stronger than all of the adults he knew. The only way he felt disadvantaged was when he stood next to the messy haired boy who was all knees and elbows. Even though he was a month younger the boy towered over Jongho. Both boys stood against a brick wall as they watched the other children play. They had tried everything in the playground at least two times and their excitement was replaced with exhaustion. It was clear that they were both half asleep when his friend spoke up. “You got taller Jongho.” “How can you tell if you’re taller than me?” His friend turned to him a smile blooming on his freckled face, “I can tell because you were here” he said pointing to a place just above his elbow “And now you’re here.” He spoke excitedly as he pointed to a place that was half an inch above where he previously pointed. Jongho’s eyes lit up as a cheeky grin formed on his face, “I told you! I’m going be taller than you, just wait and see.” “I have an idea! Why don’t I mark your height here? We can measure you until you’re taller than me”. Not waiting for the shorter boy to respond he ran back over to the playground picking up a stub of chalk and returned. “Up against the wall partner! Not like that, put your hands down dummy” Jongho put his hands down, fidgeting with them out of embarrassment. Reaching over he drew a line above Jongho’s head and scrawled his name next to it. Both of them moved away from the wall admiring the line and crooked writing like it was a piece of art. Hearing the familiar call of the friend’s mother the two said their goodbyes. His mother let out a chuckle at the first words he spoke to her, not hello but an excited “I’m taller! I grew this much.” Jongho brought his tiny hands up to illustrate his statement, it was very exaggerated but his mother just smiled, glad that Jongho had a good day.

Ignoring the harsh rays Jongho shed his jacket and placed it to the side with his belongings, running in his attire was strange but completely justified. He wasn’t going to spend the whole day running, he had other plans and was willing to put up with the slight discomfort he felt. Following one more initial stretch Jongho crouched into a starting position, counting under his breath:

One

Two

And Jongho was off, not bothering to count to three he was always ahead of the game. On the few occasions where someone was present to witness him run, they were caught off guard. Jongho would just burst into a harsh sprint, no one could predict when he was going to make his first move. His heart thumped in his chest mimicking his powerful steps, he ran like a man who had been running his whole entire life. In many ways that was true, no matter how hard he tried to find the truth part of him wanted to move on. He wanted the boy to remain a memory, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the photograph. A stray tear streaked down his face; leaving the tear there he continued running only wiping it after he had circled the track two more times. The usual satisfaction he felt after a successful run was replaced with a vile combination of anger and frustration. With a clouded mind Jongho quickly made his way to the bag. When his fingers brushed the withered edges of the photograph his throat tightened. He had approached his mother directly, yet he still wasn’t able to get an answer, even she had forgotten the boy’s name. Jongho had it in his hands, he could have easily crumpled it up throwing it as far as his eyes could see, but he didn’t.

Yesterday they were astronauts, today they were pirates and tomorrow the duo would be superheroes. Jongho stood proudly, chest poking out as he stood at the wheel as his shipmate scanned the seas trying his hardest to spot land. This wasn’t too hard thanks to his height, “Avast Jongho, I see land!” Jongho put his hand to his looking in the same direction as the other, his eyes lit up “I think, I think I can see it!”. Both of the boys bounced around the deck excitedly, rejoicing at their discovery. Returning to the wheel Jongho spun it at a furious speed, when docked at the sandy shores of the island the boys slid down the slide. The boys moved over to the pirate themed cake, Jongho thought he’d be taller than his friend by the time he turned eight. As disappointing as that was Jongho had still had one of the best days of his life, it was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. Jongho pulled the taller boy over to him “You blow out four and I blow out four, we can both make a wish.” A wave of happiness washed over the boy, “Really? You’re the best Jongho!” And with that they both made a wish. Jongho prided himself in keeping secrets, no matter how many people pestered the boy he still refused to tell anyone what the wish was. The boy actually managed to keep his wish a secret for most of his life, it wasn’t until he had come to learn that wishes didn’t always come true that he said his wish out loud.

“I wish this day could last forever…” Jongho placed the photograph back into his backpack “What a joke”. Wiping away the mixture of sweat and tears Jongho pulled his jacket back on and made his way east to the basketball court. When Jongho had arrived, he was immediately given a whistle and told to sit on the bench and supervise the children. If it was his choice, he would have gladly taken a more active role. He didn’t care what it was as long as he was able to preoccupy is mind. The sound of the whistle blowing combined with the rhythmic thud of the basketballs nearly lulled Jongho to sleep, instead of sleeping he fell into a deep line of thought as he remembered a day that he had tried his hardest to forget.

Contrary to popular belief superheroes did in fact cry, this was something Jongho had discovered the hard way. His cape fell limply on his shoulder as he bawled his eyes out on the floor near the front door. His family had made several attempts to get the boy to stop crying, but nothing they did could completely dry up the stream of tears that fell down his face. “H-h-he said we were going to be superheroes today; I want to be a hero today.” Jongho’s voice was coarse and sore, no matter how many times he had asked to see his friend, they refused to take him. Jongho didn’t even need his family to take him to see the other boy, he could go there by himself if only he knew where to find him. The only thing he was told was that ‘He was going away for a long time and had asked Jongho not to cry for him.’ Those words did nothing to ease his sorrows, he was a defeated hero who was struck down by the people he thought he could outsmart and outrun.

Jongho rested his head in his hands, trying to trick everyone into thinking that he was tired and nothing more. The evening sun had just started to set when the last whistle had blown for the day, the coach immediately dismissed the kids who ran as soon as they were free to go. Jongho beat the burly man to the chase “Don’t worry I can pack every thing away, I’m dropping by to see Mingi so I can give him the keys”. Knowing that he couldn’t sway Jongho, the coach tossed the keys to Jongho thanking him for his help.

“I was too young to reach out to my lost friend. Where am I now? Where should I go?” Jongho was always so sure of himself, but here he sat, mind riddled with questions. He was too young to do anything back then, but he was old enough now so why hadn’t he tried harder? He was lost in a sea of orange rubber with no way out. Jongho could hear footsteps approaching him, figuring it was the coach who had forgotten to tell him something. Composing himself Jongho looked up, his blood running cold. Standing before him was a messy haired boy who was all elbows and knees. Jongho rubbed his eyes in disbelief, words failing to leave his mouth. “Jongho, you’ve gotten taller.”

Jongho smiled at the words of the boy in front of him, “It’s good to have you back buddy.” On that day, amidst the sea of orange Jongho looked at the boy who wore a black coat and a matching fedora. Somehow the sands of time had reversed, bringing him back to the question mark he was searching for.

#ateez #kpop fic #atiny writing competition #jongho #choi jongho #ateez fic #illusion-ships writes #jongho fanfic #sentimental #angst #au #atiny

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lynnsfics · 4 years ago

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Trick-or-Treat with a Twist

Pairing: Cas x Reader (Gender-neutral pronouns Prompt List #19 “You want to go trick-or-treating? Seriously?”)

Word Count: Approx. 2k

Requests Open! See prompt list (linked above) for details!

~~~

As the day dragged on, you felt yourself growing a bit stir-crazy in the bunker. It was Halloween and noting remotely spooky was even happening. No ghosts or ghouls to be seen. Dean had left to go to a bar, dragging a reluctant Sam behind him. Apparently Halloween was a good night to go pick up a one-night “date”.

You rolled your eyes and sighed in frustration, flipping through the tv channels, nothing even remotely good on. Suddenly an idea popped into your head. “Hey Cas,” you called out, “I had an idea.”

He walked into the room, a confused look on his face. “An idea about what?”

“I’m just about bored out of my mind. There’s nothing to do here and it’s Halloween.”

“What does that have to do with you being bored,” he questioned.

You broke into a smile, “It’s literally the best holiday all year! And so I was thinking,” you paused, embarrassed for a second, but then pressed on, “we should go trick-or-treating.”

He stared at you in confusion for a second before responding, “You want to go trick-or-treating? Seriously?”

Your smile faltered momentarily before you continued, “I mean, if you want to. But it’s so much fun, and you’ve never done it before, so it’d be something new for you to try.”

For a moment he considered it before sighing, “Well,” he said, “I suppose this could be fun.”

A grin spread across your face, “Great! Now to find you a costume.”

The sidewalk was barely lit by flickering street lights overhead, and there was a crisp chill in the air, but you didn’t complain. If anything it just added to the ambiance of the evening. Besides, the moonlight provided more than enough light to see by.

Next to you Cas glanced around, looking a bit uneasy. You had to admit, maybe making him wear a fake halo and wings for his costume was a bit excessive. But you were dressed as a demon, so it just made sense.

“Aren’t people going to question why we’re grown adults collecting candy?”

“If they do, they’re a jerk. But just say you’re collecting candy for a younger sibling who’s sick and can’t go out.”

“Isn’t that a bit-”

You cut him off, “Unethical? Yes. But we also saved the world so in the end it all balances out. Probably.”

As the angel next to you chuckled in response, you couldn’t help to admire the way the moonlight reflected in his piercing blue eyes. No matter how many times you tried to ignore the way you felt about him, it was impossible. A stab of pain went through you as you realized he wouldn’t feel the same way about you. These feelings needed to be gone, otherwise things could go downhill fast.

You were dragged back to the present when you came to the first lit house. A fake skeleton was hanging from the door, and a few bales of hay were set up in the yard. There was a “Please Take One” bowl on the porch and as you approached it, Cas gave you a stern look.

“I know what you’re thinking. Do not take the whole bowl.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted, but still only grabbed a KitKat before moving on. You grimaced at Cas’ choice in chocolate. “You seriously had your choice of like five different types of chocolate, and you chose a Baby Ruth? Really?”

“It all tastes like molecules to me,” he countered, “but they have a good texture.”

Well, that did make sense, but it didn’t stop you from judging him on it just a little bit. It was at that moment when you felt the familiar sensation of something watching you. You grabbed Cas’ arm and pulled him back towards the sidewalk.

“I think I’ve got some gum stuck to my shoe,” you whispered the code in a low voice, hoping he would pick up on what you meant.

Apparently he did, as he replied, “Would you like to go back to the car to get it off?”

“No, I don’t think it will help my shoes to walk that far.”

He nodded in response before veering off towards a sidestreet. Once you both felt a bit more secluded you asked, “Do you have any weapons with you? Maybe your angel blade?”

“You didn’t bring yourself a weapon,” he questioned accusingly.

Rolling your eyes you responded, “All I have is my dagger, sorry I didn’t expect to be fighting any entities tonight.”

He sighed and handed you the long silver blade he had stashed under the folds of his trenchcoat. “Any idea what’s following us?”

“No, I just got the feeling, and wanted to be sure we were ready. But I know that there’s definitely something out there.”

“What do you think our plan should be? We can’t just stand here and wait for whatever it is to attack.”

“I think the best thing we can do is go back and pretend we don’t know we’re being watched. Before you say anything, I don’t like the idea much either but I don’t see any other way.”

Once again walking down the street, you now cursed the flickering street lights. The once spooky atmosphere was now just a low-visibility potential battleground. The moonlight was now dimmed as impending storm clouds started to fill the sky. You could feel your hunter instincts starting to take over, and you began to flich at every sound. Something told you to try and act more nonchalant but it was difficult. You were usually prepared for fights, and this wasn’t exactly something you had predicted.

On the upside, however, you felt your bag getting heavier at each stop. You’d need to hide all this chocolate from Dean when you got home. If you got home.

For the first time in the evening, Cas seemed to actually be enjoying the Halloween festivities. “I know the circumstances aren’t ideal,” he said, “but I can understand why humans find this so appealing.”

You replied with a smile, feeling a bit more at ease knowing Cas wasn’t worried, “I always loved the idea of Halloween growing up. I wasn’t allowed to celebrate it when I was younger because it was “devil worship”, but as soon as I was on my own I embraced every part of the holiday.”

“I’m glad you were-”

You shushed him as a prickle suddenly went down your spine. “I feel it again. Whatever it is, it’s close.”

He nodded silently as you approached the next lit house. After a quick knock, an elderly woman answered the door, a bowl of chocolates in hand. “Aren’t you a little old to be trick-or-treating?”

“Well, you see ma’am,” you answered, “my little sister is sick with a cold, so we’re collecting candy for her.”

“If there’s one thing I hate more than hunters,” she hissed, her voice taking on an inhuman quality, “it’s liars.” You felt something cool and sharp press against your back, and your heart clenched. Pulling out the blade Cas had handed you earlier, you launched it back in one swift motion. The monster behind you doubled over and collapsed into dust.

A flash of blinding light told you that Cas had managed to smite the other monster, leaving only the “sweet old lady” standing in front of you. Her skin began to peel back, revealing a young woman who seemed to be in her mid-20s. “Well, it seems you killed my brothers. Pity. But I think you’ll find I won’t be quite as easy to dispose of.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you retorted through clenched teeth. Swinging the bloody angel blade forward, it lodged itself in her stomach but did nothing.

She smirked, but as she did, her face shifted again, “Well then, judge, have you reached your verdict?” At that moment everything clicked. Why you couldn’t find the others even though you could sense them, why the first two died so easily. She was a silent shifter, a newly found sub-grouping of shape shifter than stayed in packs, but had a connected life force. When one died, the others gained their strength.

A quick glance at Castiel told you that he had come to the same conclusion. It would take more than a stab wound to take her down, but luckily there was something that could do the trick.

You made a move to grab for the hilt of the blade but she reacted quickly, latching a strong hand around your wrist. A burning sensation flooded through your arm, but you managed to pull out the angel blade. As you did, the burning spread, and you cried out in pain. You didn’t let that stop you, however, and in one fluid motion, brought the blade to her neck and pushed it through. As the head fell to the ground with a sickening plop, the burning pain overtook you and you collapsed onto the porch in a heap.

Castiel rushed to your side, gently propping you up against the now closed front door. Your brain felt foggy, and you couldn’t quite see straight. On the plus side, you decided, the burning had receded.

“Please be alright,” he silently pleaded, hands trembling. Momentarily, you squeezed your eyes shut, and when you reopened them the world was back in focus. Cas breathed a sigh of relief as you cussed under your breath,

The question slipped from your lips before you could even process it, “What just happened?”

“I,” he paused, unsure of whether to be straightforward in his response or to sugar-coat it, “I honestly do not know. But you seem to be doing better now, so I suggest we head back to the bunker.”

Something about his demeanor was off as you walked back, and you tried to ignore it, but eventually the stiff silence caused your feelings to spill over the edge. “What the hell is going on with you, Cas? First you seem overly concerned and the next minute you don’t seem to care what happens to me.” Thunder boomed from overhead as the last words tumbled out, the perfect accompaniment to your sudden outburst.

“You could have died back there, do you realize that? All because we weren’t prepared. Because I agreed to go on this little ‘adventure’ with you. I could have lost you-” He stopped speaking abruptly as a look flashed across his face, an emotion that was gone as soon as it came. But you recognized it well. Regret.

Droplets of water began to sprinkle down from the heavens as you replied. “Cas, what,” you paused, trying to interpret his message in a million different ways, but always drawing the same conclusion. “What are you trying to say?”

He glanced down, unsure of how to express how he truly felt. “I thought I lost you today, and that terrified me. It made me realize what I’ve felt all this time, and I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I love you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I just needed to tell you.”

You blinked, unsure if this was real or all just a dream. Stepping towards him, the words came naturally, “All this time, I thought my feelings were one-sided. Cas, I love you too.” And in that moment he closed the remaining distance between you, and your lips met. Fireworks exploded in your mind as the rain cascaded down around you. You smiled into the kiss, and you knew that this year, Halloween may have brought you some tricks, but it also brought you a very sweet treat.

~~~

Hey everyone! This fic was requested anonymously, and is actually the first spn fic I’ve ever written, so sorry if it’s a bit OOC. If you’d like to request a fic, make sure to click the link in the description for more details! As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated and let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! Love you all <3

#requested #castiel fanfiction #castiel fic #cas fic #cas x reader #castiel x reader #cas x y/n #castiel x y/n #castiel x you #cas x you #supernatural fic #spn fic

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