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papermachedragons · 1 year ago

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The people have spoken. I have been convinced (narrator: it did not take a lot of convincing) to release the "drunk" merwaine kiss. And now you will find out why i have called it "drunk" kiss. Because it is "drunk"ish. There have been some drinking, but calling it a drunk kiss would greatly exaggerate the levels of drunkenness. And I'm sorry if this is disappointing, but I can't help if my brain has made a connection between "drunk characters in a fic kissing" and "Merlin and gwaine questionably tipsy(???) kiss". The connection has been made, okay, I had no control over it and now I am doomed to think about this fic and this kiss every time I stumble upon drunk/tipsy kissing in fics and now you will, too! Hurray!

Anyway, here it is. The "drunk-but-not-really-i-just-used-that-word-because-it-gets-my-point-across-faster-than-tipsy" merwaine kiss excerpt from a 30+k fic. Fair warning, it will be out of context and so some sentences will not make sense, but just gloss over that for now and pretend it makes perfect sense. What's that? Out of context? Never heard of her. Look at all this context. Wow. Never have I seen so much in-context as I have right here, right now. I am just blown away by all of this context.

Btw the title for my wip document is Gwaine's Soliloquy. Because I'm the kind of person who listens to musicals and i like to amuse myself with my wip titles.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this 7+k excerpt.

I will not be held responsible if this excerpt ends up different in the actual fic once I finish it and post it on ao3

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The banquet hall was simple, but elegant. Rows of wide, red fabric hung from the walls with slimmer fabric of gold looped in front of them, creating graceful arches of red and gold between sections of the walls, draped from post to post. Light from nearby candles caught upon the arches making the fabric ripple softly and look more like surfaces of a body of water than fabric. Flames from torches along the walls, candles down the tables and on candelabras threw a softened, steady and warm glow all through the banquet hall. Everything was awash by golden light, even the walls might as well have been bedecked in jewellery and rhinestones, for how they glowed, as if imitating the nobles inhabiting them.

Gwaine was not entirely sure why they were having a feast, this time. It seemed they were having one every few weeks and no one ever really knew why, or maybe they did and Gwaine just decided to never listen when they mentioned the reason, simply glad he could sit down with good food, good drink and surrounded by most of his friends. It was fine, though. The reason for these things were usually a stone throw away from horse shit, so Gwaine was fine saluting his drink to the air and making up some cheer in his head, instead. It was way funnier that way and he liked to see how elaborate he could make it, before he gave himself away. A game he always introduced to Elyan and Percival once they were tipsy enough to go along with it. Leon liked to pretend he was above that kind of stuff and always shot them glares, whenever their giggles betrayed them, like he was trying to cross-bow them in the middle of Arthur's speech, but once or twice he definitely whispered his own contributions to the game into his cup, so Gwaine knew it was all a lie.

The feast itself was extravagant and delicious as usual and Gwaine enjoyed himself sampling every bit of it he could get his hands on. Including a piece or two from Elyan's plate, when he was looking the other way. That did mean he lost his newly filled drink to the other man later, though.

Across the room, out of the way and up against the wall, a table stood, presenting a smaller, less extravagant buffet of most the same foods to the servants. It was a thing Gwen had talked Arthur into doing, a way for servants to mingle and have a little taste of the festivities they worked so hard for, without having to eat it cold and congealed in the kitchens long after the feast was over and the food passed the appetising stage of their lifespan. It was not that Arthur had to be convinced by her, only that he had never thought of it before or considered feasts from a servants perspective. So now they got their own little buffet. And smaller cups for drinks on occasions such as Samhain, but only on feasts of special celebration.

Knowing there was no desserts to be found on there, no matter the occasion, Gwaine — when Merlin dropped down in the space between him and Percival to fill his drink and whisper a snarky comment in his ear — slipped him a honey cake. Delight swirled through him, as Merlin startled to a stop, looked down at his little gift, then grinned blindingly bright at him, as he stepped away and disappeared once more.

This feast there were no drinks to be had for the servants. But halfway through the feasts, Gwaine did see Gwen take a hold of her goblet, half-full with raspberry cordial, bring it down and under the table, where she slipped it backwards, hiding it in the shadow of the table and the volume of her skirt — all the while she never once looked away from the two lords she held conversation with, her gaze steady and her smile amiable. Grinning from the shadows behind the two monarchs, Merlin stepped forward, slipped it from her fingers and retreated to the shadows behind the two chairs to drink the offering. Once done, he slipped it back into Gwen's hand, unseen and unnoticed, as he filled up Arthur's goblet. By the table perpendicular to theirs, Gwaine caught Merlin eye, grinned and lifted his own drink, tipping a small salute towards him. Merlin rolled his eyes, but stepped back into the shadows with a small grin.

Later, Gwaine saw him nick a sweetmeat from Arthur's plate — despite the sweetmeats at the servants table — and a small handful of raspberries , this one from the servants table, though.

Perhaps it was a little obvious that the one thing Gwaine noticed the most at these feasts was Merlin. Unsurprising, really, but what could he do? Gwaine was but a simple man. A great knight — if he may say so himself — but a simple man, still. And with generous amounts of alcohol at his disposal, he will not be held responsible for where his eyes drifts at feasts. Not even by himself.

Time passed and eventually they drifted from their seats and spread out all across the floor. Drinks and small platters of deserts in hand. Voices filled the great hall in loud, boisterous conversation and laughter. Minstrels on a raised gallery played music and sang, their songs flitting between every conversation with the graceful sweep of birds in flight. Gwaine found himself stood off-centre, leant up against a pillar. A goblet in one hand with Elyan and Kay beside him, their voices flowing in easy conversation all around him. In the middle of one of Kay's repetitive jokes about the knight and the barmaid, Gwaine caught Elyan's gaze and had to restrain a laugh, as the two shared a look, because Kay told the very same joke every time he had more than three cups of mead in him and he was the only one who still found the joke funny.

Lifting his cup, Gwaine hid his grin in his own drink, and cast his eyes about the great hall. Well, he intended to cast his eyes about the room, but predictably, his gaze immediately caught on a figure clad in brown, red and blue at the other end of the hall, hovering against a wall, near Arthur and Gwen, cast in brilliant light from both candle light and torches and for a moment, Gwaine's throat tightened. Eyes wide on the man who seemed swathed in light, as if it might as well have come from the sun itself, embracing him in its grasp; almost caressed by it, as if, even when he was meant to seek the shadows, the light instead searched for him, eager to wash his skin in its touch, making him glow from its presence alone. Then Kay smacked a hand on his shoulder and laughed loud and boisterous, deafening any within five metres reach and Gwaine shook himself out of those thoughts, though he did keep his eyes on Merlin, even as he patted Kay on the shoulder, when he started coughing on his own laughter.

As Elyan said something to him about getting Kay some water, taking the knight by the elbow and leading him to a chair, Gwaine waved the two off distractedly, now caught on the shadows that clung to Merlin like a second skin, despite the light all around him. Tension hung by his eyes in tight lines, and his mouth had lost the smile usually curling it upwards, and instead drooped downwards. Even from a distance, his shoulders looked heavy and caved in, as if weighted down and hunched by an invisible weight, or as if the jug in his hands had gained an impossible weight in the time since the feast began.

Taking a sip of his drink, Gwaine let his gaze wander through the chamber. The Great Hall was less crowded. A few courtiers and knights who had been there earlier were no longer present, thinning out the crowd. Outside the windows the night was dark and entirely black in the glass glinting and gleaming from the candle light. Reflecting pinpricks of shifting sparks of flame back at the courtiers that danced and twirled past them in merriment or walked to and from conversations across the hall.

Decided, Gwaine pushed off his support pillar, slipped his drink onto the tray of a nearby passing servant and made his way across the room with a dopey grin on his face and a wide, sweeping, gesturing wave, as if he had spotted someone at the other end of his gaze, when in reality, his eyes were focused on the flickering flames of a torch on the wall. As he crossed the floor, he made sure to waltz with exaggerated wobbling and stumbling, as if he was a single drop away from drowning in intoxication. One truly hilariously flailing step and Gwaine accidentally fell into one of the other knights. A platter of desserts spilled between them with a loud clatter and a curse. Flailing, Gwaine tucked one foot beneath the other, stumbled and fell, crashing to the ground with a large "Oomph" and the sound of tittering annoyance and laughter breaking out throughout the hall.

Blinking stupidly, as if dazed or dizzy, Gwaine looked up at the ceiling and waited. It took no longer than a single breath.

A warm hand touched his forehead. Skin smooth against Gwaine's, but with calluses and cracked patches of skin scattered all across his palm and fingers, grazing against his skin in a mismatched pinprick that should not have felt the way it did, but it felt so perfectly aligned, Gwaine sighed, even as he laid there, uncomfortable on the floor in his armour. Finally, Gwaine's eyes followed the arm to Merlin's face.

A small frown crinkled his brows, yet laughter bubbled inside his eyes, twinkling down at him. And Gwaine nearly grinned just as dopey up at him, but he made sure to blink owlishly at the man, as he caught sight of a few faces in the empty space by Merlin's shoulders, looking towards them from half a room away, muttering into their cups and scowling with distaste.

"You okay?" Merlin asked.

"I have fallen," Gwaine said dumbly and Merlin's mouth twitched, his lips pressing together from a barely restrained laugh, while his eyes crinkled.

"You have." Deep blue eyes darted back and forth between his, searching even if his tone and expression remained light with humour. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm, remains to be seen," he said, making a thoughtful expression. "Is the chamber still spinning?"

"It never did." Merlin's mouth twitched again.

"Oh, well, in that case." Gwaine closed his eyes and let his expression turn lax, as if going to sleep right then and there.

A small laugh came from above him, but the sound was quickly stifled. "I'm afraid a banquet hall is no place to sleep, sir Gwaine."

"I believe it is. It is rather comfortable from here." He cracked a single eye open, looking up at him.

"Won't be in a few hours when servants start making a racket while cleaning up. Come on," he said, clapping his arm, "on your feet." Then he slipped his arm beneath his and pulled him to his feet. Even as he was hauled upright, Gwaine made sure to wobble precariously, practically hanging on Merlin's arm with all his weight, leaning sideways and swaying all over the place. Truly, the performance of a lifetime. Merlin laughed and tipped him back, catching him around his shoulders, arm beneath his own. Not one to miss an opportunity, Gwaine threw his arm around his shoulders and leant into his side, feeling Merlin's quiet chuckle rumble against him.

Merlin turned him around and began walking, pulling him along. Most courtiers and dinner guests resumed their own conversation and stopped watching Gwaine and the spectacle he put on at every other feast, but he caught a few eyes, glancing their way as they wobbled out of the banquet hall. Half of them amused, tittering with gossip, even as it was happening before their conversation partners' eyes; the other half derisive and sneering, as they often were, when directed at Gwaine outside the training field and tournaments.

Arm in arm, Gwaine and Merlin walked out the Great Hall and its ornately decorated doors. Though it was rather graceless, what, with Gwaine zigzagging every few steps to the door.

"So, my friend, where are we going?" Gwaine asked as they passed the doorway's threshold, perhaps a little louder than necessary, but he really wanted the point to come across tonight; he wanted the gossip mill tomorrow to be full of the knight, who should have drowned his knighthood in mead and red wine by now, and who could not attend a feast without leaving a spectacle in his wake or the smell of vagabondery and incompetence behind himself.

"I've been instructed to take you to your chambers," Merlin huffed, rolling his eyes. "Apparently you can't be trusted on your own."

"How exciting! An adventure! Fit for the greatest knight in Camelot!" Gwaine exclaimed and lifted his free arm in imitation of raising his sword up high.

"And here I thought we've been on enough adventures to last a lifetime."

Shaking his head, Gwaine clicked his tongue. "That's where you go wrong. You can never have enough adventures, my friend."

Merlin grumbled under his breath and Gwaine would swear it sounded something like, he'd like to hear him repeat that when he's got something breathing down his neck. What that something was, Gwaine did not catch, but he swears it sounded close to an overgrown lizard. Admittedly, Gwaine had had some drinks and was a little inebriated, so he was not entirely sure he heard right or if he could trust himself on this one.

They walked for a little while. Moving through corridors of the castle, passing torches burning bright and flickering on the walls, their light warm and golden, as it washed over them in flashes of heat.

When they had passed through a few quiet corridors and walked a few stairs, the noise from the feast far behind them and not a soul near them, Merlin huffed a small laugh. "That tumble was particularly convincing today, I do believe Arthur thinks you drunk enough to destroy a few tapestries and suits of armour, if left to stumble back on your own."

"I haven't the faintest of what you could be insinuating," Gwaine said, tone preposterous and full of disbelief. "I'm as drunk as a barmaid's apron, Merlin, just look at my walk." And indeed, Gwaine had been wobbling along as they walked the hallways, leaning most of his weight into Merlin and his footsteps as unsteady as a boat in a storm at sea.

"Sure you don't." Gwaine could practically hear the roll of his eyes, but he could also hear the smile in his voice so he counted it as a victory. Drawn by his voice, he looked sideways to catch a glimpse of his smile. That was the moment his foot caught on his cloak and he stumbled. Falling, his arm yanked, catching hard and heavy around Merlin. Flailing about, Gwaine hung onto Merlin as he struggled against gravity, hopping to regain his footing.

Muscles straining against him, bulging against Gwaine's flailing body, Merlin strained against his weight and grunted. As Gwaine found his footing again, still walking forward with his arm around Merlin's shoulders, hanging onto him, as if he had never stumbled, he huffed loud and long-suffering. "Gwaine, I know you're not as drunk as you're pretending to be, can you please use your own legs to walk?"

"That wasn't me," he said as a matter of fact, his own feet solidly on the ground again, "it was the damn cloak." In emphasis, he grabbed a hold of the cloak and waved it in front of him.

Tilting his head sideways, Merlin threw him a heavily disbelieving look.

"I swear." Discarding the handful of fabric, he held out his hand. "The damn thing is out to get me." He threw a disgruntled look at the red fabric flapping about his feet with his every, wobbling step. "I think it knows all about my derogatory comments towards nobles."

"I don't think it cares, Gwaine."

"I think it does. It's in league with Uther, I just know it. Made a pact with him before he snuffed it and all."

"Alright, it was the cloak, but can you please just walk."

"I am walking."

"Properly."

"Ah well, since you asked so nicely." Easing his weight off of Merlin, he gained his feet beneath himself and dropped all pretence of stumbling and wobbling along. He kept his arm slung around Merlin's shoulders, though, and could not help but smile like a fool, when Merlin's arm also did not move from around his back. "But only because I like you best," he added, throwing him a winning grin and ruffling a hand through his hair.

"Yes, I'm sure you would have been a menace to anyone else forced to walk you to bed." Merlin rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away. As he did, Gwaine hooked a finger around his, brought his hand closer and smacked a kiss right onto his knuckles, because he thought it was a great idea and why not, they were alone walking through these deserted hallways and corridors. Might as well, you know.

Merlin let him kiss his knuckles, then brought his hand back to himself, huffing quietly under his breath. Probably used to his antics.

Gwaine took no heed of it and bumped his hip into his. "Well, that's half the fun of having a reputation such as myself," he said.

"What's the other half?" He crooked an eyebrow at him. Smile quirked and humoured.

Looking sideways and catching his eyes, Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously. "Hearing everyone slip me their secrets, because they think I'm too drunk to ever understand or remember them, when I have in fact, not a single drop of alcohol in my blood."

"Not one drop," Merlin repeated mockingly. "Now I know you're telling tall tales."

"Alright, but one mug of mead is far from the ten others usually think I'm deep in."

"True." Merlin allowed with a tilt of his head. "If that's what you're doing, when you're making spectacles of yourself, you must have enough gossip and secrets in that head to compete with the maids."

"Please," Gwaine scoffed and swatted a hand through the air, "they wish they knew half the secrets I do."

"I'm sure," he said, laughter bubbling in his voice and from his shoulders. It did not last long. Merlin fell quiet. And for a while, they continued to walk in silence. The air around them heavier than before, though Gwaine had no idea from where it came.

As he walked, Merlin kept his head down. Every few steps, Gwaine cast glances towards him, and though his face was cast in shadows with the occasional torch and candle light catching upon his high cheekbones and the planes of his face, it was not the shadows that kept him locked up. No. The expression he wore was lost to Gwaine, no matter the shadows or light that fell onto his face. The walls around them seemed to stretch the echo of their tapping footsteps and shifting fabric of Gwaine's cloak occasionally grazing the floor, unrecognisable.

Eventually, Merlin's shoulders shifted underneath Gwaine's arm, rising and falling with a heavy breath. "Aren't you tired of it, Gwaine?" he sighed, his voice tinged heavy and exhausted. Glancing sideways at him, Gwaine caught the heavy and tired expression pulling at his features, almost dragging them, now that he had raised his chin up, freeing his face from most of the shadows. Merlin still did not look towards him, keeping his head faced determinedly forward and his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Tired of pretending and putting up a front?"

"Hmm, not really," Gwaine said, a light frown appearing on his brow at the weight in Merlin's voice. "I know the people who can't be bothered to look past it don't matter, and it serves me well enough to be overlooked as the drunken knight no one takes seriously."

"Why do you do it?" his tone was still far too heavy and tired. A state Gwaine was becoming more and more familiar with, the more time that passed; a state it seemed Merlin fell further and further into it the more time passed since Lancelot's death. No matter how much he tried to hide it. Chest twinging with a deep ache — like a mirror of the pit pulling at Merlin, reached for him just by hearing its presence in Merlin's voice — Gwaine tightened his arm around him, as if trying to pull him away from that heavy pit that pulled at him. And Merlin added, still with a soul-deep exhaustion beyond comprehension, "Why do you pretend that you're a scoundrel and a drunkard?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Gwaine answered, voice soft and gentle, "why do you let people think you're a fool?"

Merlin huffed, jostling him and pulling his arm further around his shoulder, as if Gwaine was still stumbling around in a drunkard's shoes. "It's better that way," he mumbled, glancing down and away.

Gwaine looked sideways, directly into the side of his head, no matter Merlin was resolutely looking the other way. "For who?" he asked.

Merlin did not reply.

They continued in silence. Occasionally, Gwaine's eyes would stray to the man beside him. The wall opposite the windows carried the occasional torch, flickering with softly crackling flames, casting a warm, yellow light upon him and the corridor they walked. Silver moonlight fell in through every window they passed and with the golden, flickering light from torches, a kaleidoscope of shifting silver and golden light fell all over Merlin's pale skin, touching him with an ever-shifting ethereal glow, casting him in fey-like quality, as if he had stepped out of the stories of fey-kind and other unearthly beings, only to walk in companionable pace with Gwaine on a moonlit night, several floors away from a revelry filled banquet hall.

What he saw, underneath the touch of flickering flame and the silver moon, Gwaine did not know how to name. It was an expression he did not often see there, as Merlin more often than not, either wore smiles (though these could be argued against, as they did not always reach his eyes, especially these days) or frantic energy throwing his features into such movement, the nature of them could not be determined in the brief glimpses that Gwaine could catch of Merlin in these instances, before he was gone again; the echo of his voice hanging like a trail left behind him, as the only evidence he had ever been there. It was like trying to catch the wind in his hands, or the reflection of stars in a lake; as soon as he cupped his hands around it and tried to hold onto it or bring it closer, it was gone, slipped from between his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to keep it there. But that was its nature. Who was he to keep it there? And really, he did not want to keep Merlin from flitting all over the place — frantic or otherwise — he simply wanted to join him in it, or to let him know that Gwaine would remain standing where he was, so he always knew he was there to return to, whenever he got a moment to breathe and needed a place to rest.

Tonight, the shadows from Merlin's heavy and tired question did not seem to want to leave him. So Gwaine did the only reasonable thing he could do. And that was act the fool, so he did not have to.

Groaning loudly and letting his own weight drag, hanging onto Merlin, he started to lean to the side, stupid and tipsy once more. "Hang on, hang on," he said, dragging his words in simple slur and stumbling over his feet, reaching for the wall, "stop here for a bit." He stumbled to the side, pulling them towards the wall.

"Gwaine, what?" Merlin huffed, not without some amusement, feet shuffling across the floor as he was pulled along by Gwaine's arm around his back.

"I like this wall," he said, turning to lean up against the cold stone and resting against it. Arm eased halfway off Merlin's shoulder.

"It's just a wall." He remained a few steps away from him, their arms still raised and held out, holding onto each other by just their shoulders and arms, the best they could with the space between them, since Merlin seemed adamant to say standing on his own two feet.

"Yeah, and I like it." Though he might not have been half as drunk as he pretended to be, he had still had enough to drink to be considered a small hazard, his veins and stomach buzzing pleasantly with alcohol. Thanks to his years of travel and gallivanting, he had far too much experience with drinking to be more than tipsy by the drinks he had had, but it was a pleasant buzz in his stomach and a lightness in the space between his ears. Also, his skin was a little too hot. Like he had been lying out in the hot summer sun for hours and the gambesome beneath his chainmaille was really starting to heat up uncomfortably against him. Not nearly enough to act the way he had in the Great Hall upon exiting or the way he was now, as if seeking shelter against unsteady legs through the wall. But if he did not like the look on Merlin's face and was rather desperate to see it vanish, then that was his business and his business alone. And the ceiling above him for which he sought aid in its cracks and shadows. But otherwise, his business alone.

Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched and as Gwaine tugged on his arm in response, he allowed him to pull him the rest of the way to the wall with him, sliding his arm back around his shoulders. Pressing them up against one another. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, Merlin's arm around his shoulder and Gwaine's around his back.

For a short while, they just stood there, leant up against the wall and tipped slightly towards each other.

Then, Gwaine turned his head and looked at him. Merlin's eyes were already fixed on him. There was a quizzical pull on his brow, a quirked eyebrow that Gwaine did not understand, though a pleased upturn of his mouth told him it was not anything bad. He wondered at the question, though. Until he realised he had his hand buried in the nape of Merlin's hair, carding his fingers through the strands.

But Merlin had not moved away and he was smiling so Gwaine kept doing it.

It was nice. His hair was lovely against his fingers, a little coarse and wavy, and nicer than Gwaine had ever imagined.

Merlin's eyes flickered down to his lips. Such an action usually made Gwaine smirk, but this was Merlin and Merlin had always been different. Where other people's gaze to his lips brought a satisfied feeling, Merlin's gaze lit a warmth in his stomach and made his heart hammer against his chest.

With a sharp intake of breath, Merlin jerked his head away. Sticking it and his gaze straight forward, his jaw set and resolute.

Gwaine kept staring at him. The buzz in his stomach turned sour and wobbly. All wrong. Swallowing the sour taste, it moved quickly down his throat and joined the twisting wobble in his stomach, to stew there like one of Gaius' infamous, foul potions.

Lips pulling up, he tried for a smile. "I still owe you for making sure I had that week of light training, you know," he said lightly, banishing the feeling all together in favour of something far lighter.

"Is that so?" A smile curled lopsided from Merlin's lips. Head tipped back, leant against the wall, he let his head turn along the wall, tilting it to look at Gwaine with a quirked eyebrow and knowing eyes that gleamed with humour.

"It is so," Gwaine declared, nodding and held a hand to his chest. "And a great favour it was, I ended up missing out on several long runs in full armour and you know how I hate that."

"I do know."

"So, you can see I cannot possibly let it pass without making my gratitude known." Eyes crinkling, his smile stretched into something knowing, as it was apparently not enough for his eyes to hold it. Ignoring it, Gwaine raised his free hand and tapped a finger against his chin, acting so very oblivious to the light in Merlin's blue eyes. "Now, what did I say when you first spoke of it?" He tapped a few more times, then lifted his finger high. "Ah," he said, "I remember now. I do believe, I said I would be grateful enough to press a kiss to thine lips." Grinning, he patted himself down, clearly so very oblivious and innocent to the twist forming on Merlin's lips. "And I do reckon I no longer smell of dirt and horse."

"Are you sure about that?" Grinning lopsided, Merlin arched an eyebrow at him, pointed and so very knowing.

"A scoundrel and drunkard I may be, but I am no pigsty."

"Are you trying to come onto me, sir Gwaine?" The eyebrow rose further. It was remarkable, really. Perhaps, he had learned more than a physician's art from Gaius.

"I am trying to make a heartfelt expression of gratitude." Gwaine put his hand on his chest, expression affronted and tone even more so.

Smiling still, he rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, your intentions are completely altruistic and innocent, right?" voice dripping sardonically and sarcastically.

"Merlin, I am most wounded you would disbelieve me so." Hand on his chest, sounding as playfully hurt and good-humoured as he could, his words were met with a loud snort, Merlin's face twisting in humoured disbelief. "Unbelievable." Gwaine threw his hand into the air. "You try to be nice and make a gesture of— of grati—" as he fumbled for his words, Merlin stepped away from the wall and came to stand in front of him, clamping a hand on top of his mouth, shutting him up. Palm pressing into his lips and fingers on his cheek. The last word caught in his palm and Gwaine's still moving lips brushed against his skin. Though his mouth stilled at the loss of his words, the drag of his lips against Merlin's hand made his lips feel tingle and prickle softly. Forcefully tearing his own eyes away from Merlin's lips and wishing he could move his lips again, this time to press a proper kiss into the palm covering it and hovering so enticingly near, the warmth of it emanating from it towards his lips, Gwaine looked into blue eyes, above which eyebrows were quirked, half-pointedly, half-humorously.

"Gwaine?" Gwaine raised his eyebrows in answer. "You are not very believable."

"I believe I am," he said, voice muffled behind Merlin's hand. Every word causing his lips to catch on Merlin's palm, brushing against his skin.

"Uh huh," Merlin nodded, taking a step closer, his hand still on his mouth, body just barely up against his own, it made Gwaine's heart hiccup inside of his chest, despite the armour he wore that separated them, "a kiss just for gratitude?" his voice lowered, turning almost to a whisper in the small space between them.

"Exactly. Just gratitude..." the words blew softly from his mouth, carried on a mere whispering breath, nearly getting lost in Merlin's skin, so very faint it trailed off into nothing.

"What's a kiss between friends?" Merlin whispered, closer still, then slid his hand away from his mouth, brushing it away across his cheek and down his throat, touching it to his neck instead. Palm warm against his skin where it cupped the nape of his neck. His breath blew across his lips, a small gust of air, before his lips came upon his.

Their lips slotted together. Warm and soft and firm and everything Gwaine had ever wanted. They sealed together, the softest of breaths blowing from Merlin's lungs to his own. Gwaine swept his arm around Merlin's back, drawing him closer still and Merlin went, leaning into him, heedless of the chainmaille that met him. Body crowding against his, firm and solid and warm where his armour did not reach, his presence flooded his senses. Floating like a small aura around him and the whole world became Merlin and Merlin alone.

Grateful he was not forced to wear his gloves to feasts, Gwaine pressed his palms flat against Merlin's back. Even through the chainmaille and gambeson underneath it, Gwaine felt Merlin's body firm and solid against him, his very presence setting his nerves alight, as if he was being seared into his very flesh and bones, through his kiss alone.

With a soft sound, the kiss broke, but their bodies did not. They remained pressed up against his other, chest moving up and down as they heaved quietly for air.

Sighing softly, Merlin tipped his head forward and leaned his forehead into his, eyes never once straying from Gwaine's. There was a look in his eyes, something Gwaine could not decipher.

"What?" he asked quietly, voice rumbling.

Merlin shook his head and did not say a word. His hand lifted from his neck, only to land higher up. Fingers lifted and touched his cheek, flicking lightly over his skin. And still he just stared into his eyes. Gaze unfathomable and so very deep, Gwaine could have been drowning in the ocean for all he knew.

After a moment of just staring wordlessly at him, Merlin tipped his head and caught his lips in another kiss. This one soft and tender, leaving Gwaine no less breathless than the heated one from before.

The kiss was endless and impossibly short; the blink of an eye and the passing on an eternity.

Far away a door slammed and laughter drifted down their corridor, breaking through the air all around them, louder than it actually was.

Merlin eased his lips away from his, tipping his forehead forward and pressing it against Gwaine's, more pointed than before, like leaning all of his weight into him from that point alone. Every breath fell from his lips and fanned across Gwaine's tender mouth, gusting across his wet lips in puffs of air, shooting small tingles through them with his every exhalation.

"Has your need for gratitude been satisfied?" he asked impossibly soft.

"It has," the words were a faint whisper, rasping from his mouth.

Easing away from him, Merlin went to step away, but Gwaine caught him before he could slip too far.

"Walk me to my room still?" Gwaine was not drunk, they were both well aware of this, but Merlin still slipped his arm beneath his again, wrapping it around his back, as Gwaine in turn eased his arm around his shoulders; any chance at feeling Merlin's body against his own, he would take. And they started walking once more.

A corridor later, Gwaine asked, "Are you needed later tonight?"

"No, Gwen said they were good for the rest of the night and she would help Arthur out of his armour. She also threatened me with bodily harm, if she saw me again before tomorrow."

"That's good, then."

The rest of the walk to Gwaine's chamber was in comfortable silence. Even if Gwaine's lips never did stop tingling with intense awareness of just how close Merlin's lips had been.

As soon as they were inside Gwaine's chambers, the door closed firmly behind them, Merlin stepped away, out of his arm and went to lit a few candles.

Gwaine went to take his armour off, grumbling a small curse under his breath about having to dress up in fucking armour of all things, whenever there was a feast or banquet. Just as he grasped onto the chainmaille to pull it off, warm hands descended on him once more, falling onto his own and stopping him in his tracks.

"Merlin, you don't have to do that." He paused, turned his head and looked over his shoulder at him. "You're not my servant and gods know you do it for Arthur often enough. When you're not working, you're not working and I'm not gonna ask you to."

"And if I'm offering?"

"I'm still not asking," he said resolutely. Merlin did enough running around for them, in his opinion. He had asked him here as his friend, not as a servant.

Smiling, Merlin quirked an eyebrow. "And I'm offering as your friend." The smile turned crooked and mischievous. "Besides, I thought you were supposed to be too drunk to take care of yourself?"

"In that case, knock yourself out." Together they lifted the heavy chainmaille off him. While Gwaine untied the padded gambeson and slipped it off his shoulders, Merlin stepped off to the side and draped the chainmaille over the wooden frame it hung on, when not in use. When the gambeson was off, Merlin reached for it as well, and hung it in its place, too.

Gwaine smiled warmly at him, then sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots. Shrugged out of his breeches and his tunic, throwing them into a laundry basket by the wardrobe. He cast a glance at Merlin and found his eyes stuck to his exposed chest. He almost stayed where he was, but he remembered the way Merlin had pulled away from him, when he had treated the cut on his thigh and he did not want him to pull away again or leave. It was a miracle he had not done so after the kiss, after all, there was no reason to test the fates even further.

Boots set off to the side, Gwaine let himself fall into bed with a large sigh.

Merlin went around blowing out the few candles he had lit, and brought a second to the table by the side of his bed, placing it beside the candle already burning there.

Wiggling around, Gwaine drew the blanket around himself. As the side of the bed, Merlin looked down at him with exasperated fondness. There was a conflict in his eyes, a frown that crossed his brow, but then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gwaine's forehead. Hand sweeping up and sweeping his hair away and back over his head.

As he straightened back up, Gwaine's arm shot out and he grabbed onto his arm, halting him still bent forward. Merlin's eyes darted to his, his eyebrows lifting upwards on his brow.

"You can stay here and sleep tonight?" he offered, voice soft and warm. "I know you're dead on your feet. You've been up working since dawn and not had a break to rest since the feast began. There's a long way to that tower on tired legs."

"I think I can manage," he said with a smile and humour dancing in his eyes.

"I haven't mentioned the best part yet," Gwaine said and patted the bed. "This bed is the best quality Camelot — nay all five kingdoms — has to offer. It's all sort of soft and lovely and warm. Particularly wonderful after a hard day's work." Merlin's smile twitched into a smirk and there was that knowing look in his eyes again. "I promise I will keep my hands to myself." He held up his free hand in surrender, still afraid of letting go of Merlin's arm, in case it allowed him to slip out of his chamber before Gwaine could even blink.

"You really don't have to, Gwaine. My bed is fine. At least I have a bed and not just a wooden floor."

"That's not exactly a comforting comparison, my friend." Looking up at him, he gave him an imploring look. One he knew was far softer than he intended it to be. "Merlin, you work twice as hard and nearly twice as long as the rest of us and by the end of the day you have to return to a small, hard cot in a cold room." At that Merlin's lips twitched, but he said nothing. "I just want you to have a nice rest in a comfortable bed for once. Honest." Finally, Merlin's smile softened, as did the look in his eyes. And Gwaine could not help but smile warmly at him; the smile he knew he never gave anyone else; the smile only Merlin could pull from him. He patted the bed again. "See? Nice and soft. Here—" finally, he let go of his arm, only to turn around in bed, turning his back to him and moving more towards the other side, leaving an empty space for him, before him where he stood hunched over "—I'll even turn my back."

"You don't have to do that."

"I sleep better on my side anyway." Not true, he could sleep comfortably no matter where or when, but he also knew it would be harder to not reach for Merlin, if he could see him. And if having his back turned made Merlin comfortable enough to take him up on his offer, then Gwaine would happily lie on his side and stare at a wall all night.

There was a small pause, then the bed dipped. Fabric rustled and dropped to the floor. Boots thunked on wooden floorboards, as they were set aside. Then, the blankets were being pulled at and Merlin slipped into bed beside him.

"Oh, that's almost as nice as Arthur's."

Gwaine huffed a chuckle, turning his head more towards the ceiling and him. "And you know this how?"

"I may have taken a nap in it while he was busy elsewhere once or twice."

"Hah! I knew it! No way you wouldn't, you sneaky bastard."

"But don't tell him," there was laughter in his voice as he spoke, "it's been a while since I've seen the stocks, and I rather like keeping our relationship as acquaintances."

"My lips are sealed." There was the sound of a harsh blow and the soft, gentle glow of the candles on the small table on Merlin's side of the bed went out, putting the chamber into complete darkness and a small smell of smoke curling in the air.

Gwaine waited a little while, eyes looking out at the shadows encompassing his chambers and the space between bed and wall. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, I am," Merlin said, soft and gentle. "Thank you."

"All you have to do is ask, Merlin, you know," his own voice was low, soft in the quiet chamber.

Two fingers grazed his shoulders. But only for a moment, hardly more than a breath, then they were gone. Their touch lingered like ghosts against his skin. Tingling his skin with their ghostly presence. "Thank you," this too was a ghost, spoken so softly it almost vanished in the space between them.

"Of course," he said.

Then, "Goodnight, Gwaine."

"Night, Merlin."

Gwaine fell asleep with Merlin's shoulder pressing against him, the rounded curve of it and part of his arm along his back. Warmth from his body spreading from every point they touched.

Gwaine did not once reach for him or even turn around to look. Despite the ache in his arms and the tender throbbing of his heart to reach out and draw him near and hold him close. Even looking felt wrong. Forbidden. No matter how knowing Merlin's eyes had been, as he had asked for a kiss, this was too far. A line he would not cross.

He had been honest.

He only wanted Merlin to get some well-deserved rest. Even if that did benefit Gwaine as well, by letting him sense Merlin's body, soft and resting and warm, right beside his own. A comfort to carry him through the night. A knowledge that he was okay in this moment.

In the morning when he woke up, Merlin was gone.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

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oo oo oo i’ll take a number twelve, for the drink, steven, and reader on the side (this was a lot funnier in my ngl) -galaxy

12) "I heard you scream. Nightmares again?"

........

'God, please..don't make me relive this!! Why can't I let go?!! Why can’t I stop?!!'

Tears streaked down Steven's face as he stared down at Mike, slowly squeezing the life out of him, much like he did all those years ago. But now he was fully aware of what he was doing...and he found himself unable to take his hands away.

He was forced to watch that...that monster kill him all over again. It was using his body, puppeteering it into committing this awful act--and he couldn’t do anything to stop it or at least loosen the grip on his neck.

He’d try to scream, yet no sounds from him would come out.

Only the agonizing gasps from Mike were audible in the room. And with every rasp, he’d asked Steven why..

Why

WHY

And yet...he had no answer. He couldn’t give him one no matter how much he tried.

'I'm sorry!! I'm so sorry, Mike!! I didn't want this!!' He mentally shouted, sobbing as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his brother’s pained expression. Blood began trickling down his chin, soaking the pillow beneath his head in crimson.

He could feel Mike’s hands on his own wrists, nails digging into his flesh until it bled, too, as the brunette tried in vain to fight back.

Alas, no part of Steven would budge.

It wouldn’t let him.

Only when he heard that sickening snap and see Mike go limp did he finally regain control of himself..

And all he could do was scream in sorrow---

Before he sat up wide awake, gasping for air.

Steven blinked and looked all around, realizing he was in his bed. As he put a hand to his chest, he felt his heartrate slowly coming down. ‘Just the same stupid dream..’ He sighed shakily.

Lately, his nightmares have been getting more and more realistic. Even his own hands were aching as though he crushed something in them moments ago.

As he rubbed them self-consciously, he suddenly tensed up and looked towards the bedroom door as it creaked open slowly. He shuddered with renewed anxiety, expecting Mike’s ghost to be there: a specter of his dear brother who’s been taunting him over his brutal demise for years.

Missingno’s curse might’ve been dormant, but it would always be there. Even during the daylight hours, it would never leave him alone.

Not until the day he died..assuming the glitch would consider giving him that release at all.

Although terrified of what he might see, Steven bravely turned on the lamp beside him with a shaky hand, and the light revealed the figure to be....

Just you, his partner in pajamas and Pikachu slippers.

His shoulders relaxed, relieved it was only you in the doorway.

“You okay, Steven?”

“..y-yeah, why?” He asked, hoping he didn’t rudely wake you up because of a stupid dream he had.

“I heard you scream. Nightmares again?”

‘Damn it..’

Nodding, he just hid himself back underneath the covers, feeling extremely guilty knowing he disturbed you. It’s happened before, so you must’ve been growing tired of it.

He expected you to leave, but instead you climbed onto the bed, sitting beside his head. You looked down to see his face buried into the pillow, yet you felt him shaking as you gently pet his hair. He sniffled all the while, tears soaking the pillowcase.

The nightmare still hurt like hell..just like it did the first time.

“I’ll stay with you for tonight.” You decided, unable to even think about leaving him alone when he's like this.

“N-No...you don’t have to.” He whimpered.

Although his voice was muffled, you heard him and shook your head. “That wasn’t a question, sweetheart. And besides I don’t feel like going back to my room.”

Eventually he looked over and saw you getting under the covers, thinking you’re making a big mistake sleeping beside him--yet he desperately needed your presence.

He was just scared that he’ll accidentally hurt you or awaken you with another scream.

He could never forgive himself if he did that...

Or worse-

"Hey..it’s okay. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

Those thoughts were abruptly pushed back into the depths of his mind as your hand cupped his cheek, gently thumbing away the tears slipping from his eye. He continued to sniffle quietly, wishing you didn’t have to see him like this...or him at all after the incident.

You shouldn’t even be anywhere near him, let alone sharing the same bed.

But you’re stubborn as hell when it comes to loving him, and he’s actually grateful for that.

Steven wasn’t sure how sleep found him, but it arrived not long after you brought him into your arms. And he dozed off, nuzzling into your neck as you continued petting his hair until you also fell asleep, holding each other close.

Hopefully, you two will wake up exactly like this. With no nightmares to interrupt.

#clanask #galaxy anon #pokepasta x reader #strangled red #strangled red x reader #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort prompts #tw strangulation

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blurberries · 1 year ago

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The Older Wheeler Eddie Munson x F! Oc

First actual fan fiction, this is part one of ? Can also be found on W-pad

wc - 1575 CW - depiction of a panic attack, undiagnosed anxiety, weed sesh, mentions of disappearence... I think that's all for now? (let me know if I forgot something)

__________________________________________________________________

My heart was beating faster and stronger, threatening to jump out of my chest, my mouth was dry, the teacher 's voice was distant and muffled while all I could hear was a loud buzz. I started to shiver uncontrollably, my sweaty and cold hands gripped at my knees. I tried to take deep breaths to help calm down but with my shaky lips I noticed that breathing only made it worst. "Everything is okay, you're gonna get through this, it happened before, you can make it happen again." I thought, to try and rationalize.

The teacher seemed to take notice when she saw me blankly staring my desk, as if I was in a trance. She called out my name many times, which I heard none of. I only noticed when I felt a kick behind me, making my heartrate faster, which was not helping my case.

"Miss Wheeler, stop with the daydreaming, we're in class and you better listen if you don't want me to call your parents" I nodded and gave a small apology. I didn't take notice that some of the kids laughed, with all the thoughts going through my head, they were inaudible. I could only hear my breath entering my nose and escaping my lips. I just couldn't calm down, I had to leave. But how? I couldn't just walk out, I had to attend class. I couldn't just leave the classroom suddenly in front of anyone. But I had to, so I did. Taking all my stuff, I stormed out, the teacher at my heels.

"Miss Wheeler! Miss Wheeler! Elizabeth Wheeler! Come back here!"

My furious teacher screamed at me through the halls. Tears were threatening to fall on my cheeks, I felt nauseous, dizzy, searching for my breath. I made my way towards the forest, crossing the field, to find my secret hiding place. I quickly settled down at the mysterious picnic table in the middle of the woods, head in my hands, I swallow the excess of saliva that just made it's apparition before taking deep breaths in, 1, 2, 3, 4, hold it, 1, 2, 3, 4, breathe out, 1, 2, 3, swallow, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, gag, swallow, breathe in, hold, breathe out, over and over, until the nausea disappears. I looked up at the trees, taking in the beautiful scenery that surrounded me, and finally calmed down, not without my body trembling all over, until I felt ready to leave the woods. Gosh I wished I could just make everything just disappear, even for a single minute.

I heard leaves shuffling and footsteps getting closer, I curiously turned my head towards the source of the noise, trying to find the culprit who put an end to my revery. My eyes fell on a mass of curly hair hiding a face I had yet to know. The young man was looking down at his feet, probably lost in his thoughts. I watched him as he got closer to the table, still unaware that I was already there. The thought of speaking up to let him know my presence crossed my mind, but I figured that letting him find out on his own seemed funnier. He finally looked up at the table and got startled at the fact that he wasn't alone.

"JESUS CHRIST!" He said putting a hand over his chest, the other dropping what seemed like a black lunch box, that's when I broke into a hysterical laugh. He quickly came back to his senses and started laughing with me. After what seemed like 2 minutes, I finally calmed down and spoke up.

"I'm so sorry, I should've said something, I actually thought of saying hi, but I couldn't bring myself to break your precious train of thought."

"Thank you for being this considerate, though it could've saved me from nearly having a heart attack" he said picking up his black box, then placing it on the table

"You have to admit that it wouldn't have been as funny if I had..." I said with a smirk that he gave back. I finally took the time to admire his soft features, his eyes were like hot chocolate on a cold winter morning and gold honey where the sun hits them, and oh so beautiful lashes draping them so nicely. "So, what is a mysterious handsome stranger like you doing at my super-secret spot?" I questioned. He raised an eyebrow, tilted his head.

"Handsome uh?" He said looking straight into my eyes, hands in his back pockets, and I kept eye-contact, encouraging him to respond, which seemed to amuse him.

"I actually thought this was MY secret hiding spot, since no one ever comes here, I mean, you saw how surprised I was to see someone else. But to answer your question I came here for a bit of a uhm, peace, and what about you?" He finally sat across from me.

"Well, I usually only come here at lunch time, but as you can see, I am here well before that today. I actually just needed some place quiet to uh" I hesitated, thinking about how you to say you came here to calm down without over sharing, it must have taken a while because he tilted his head his eyes searching for mine with a concerned look on his face "for a bit of peace as well, but I am feeling a whole lot better now, and was just about to leave when you made your big entrance, so I'll lend you my hiding place so you can have your peace" I said, about to stand up, but he spoke again, interrupting all of my movements.

"You don't have to go, it's actually kind of cool to have you here and have someone to talk to. I am also skipping right now, would you maybe, mind sharing this place for a bit longer? If you have nothing better to do obviously" He asked nervously, looking down at his rings that I had just took a notice to, and I agreed to stay, releasing all the tension that had accumulated in my muscles to stand up. "Do you mind if I light this up?" he questioned showing a joint.

"No, it's fine, go ahead"

"Are you sure? Cause I know the smell is kinda- a-and not everyone is comforta-"

I stood up, cutting him off. He looked at me confused when I walked up to him and sat by his side "I am sure, but are you sure you wanna smoke it? It kinda seemed like you were looking for an excuse" He scoffed and smirked at me before lighting it up.

He asked about how long I knew of this place, what time I usually came here, and that's when he told me that he'd come here when he had a free period, after class or when he was skipping and had nothing better to do, while I only came here for lunch. Having found this place around the same time, we both made peace and decided to share this place. He asked me about today, what made me come here in the middle of a class? I told him everything, not minding about over sharing. Perhaps it was the secondhand smoke, perhaps it was the kind stranger next to me, but I felt at ease, and I felt comfortable enough to tell him about my strange moments. He carefully listened to me while I tried to explain this problem that I had been having, the fact that it happens at least once a week, how I felt so much pressure that made me feel trapped, it felt like a claustrophobia that didn't just manifest itself in tight and enclosed spaces. When I was done, he asked if he could do anything for me, the thought of a stranger caring this much warmed my heart, but there was nothing he could do. The two of us kept on talking about everything and nothing. These meetings would happen more and more often for the next following months, I had made my first actual friend, hell, best friend even. I'd share my interest, exchange mixtapes and books, complain about our lives, laugh and cry. He'd talk about his parents, and I about mines, plus the brother and sisters. He knew everything about me, and I about him. Until one day I stopped showing.

* * *

The curly haired boy wondered if he had done something wrong, he'd try to sneak at lunch time to see if she was there, but she was a no show. He would ask the seniors around if they had seen her, describing her looks, and only was it when someone asked him for her name, that he realized that she never gave it to him, and neither did he give her his. He wondered not about how he would contact and see her again, but about how would she be able to find and contact him if she needed to talk, escape or calm down, how would he be there for her? Who would? It was worrying him, even more so when the youngest Byers disappeared, followed by Barbara. He had wondered if she might've disappeared with them, but contrarily to the two others, there were no posters about her, no one but him searching for her. It was as if she never existed, as if he had made her.

••••••••••••••••

Part 2 is now up here x

#eddie munson #eddie munson x f!oc #stranger things #panic attack #anxiety disorder #agoraphobia #munson x oc wheeler #oc has an anxiety disorder

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ghoulsgraveyard · 2 years ago

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Fright Night II

Summary: it's the fall of 86 and after months of preparation you are ecstatic to be doing the character work for Hawkins greatest horror fest, Fright Night. You’ve created hundreds of monsters for the scare actors lucky enough to land this gig, and everything is going to plan… except for a really detailed costume… one you didn’t do. Or: it’s morbius eddie. More like Demobat vampire eddie but I think calling it morbius is funnier. WARNINGS: graphic mentions of blood, descriptions of sensory overload, mentions of injuries. that's it I think? a/n: I actually posted part two? crazy. sorry for how long this took, I have been depressed and then busy with work and a show, but I have also just been lazy. Hope you enjoy!

He had no idea how long he was going to be able to keep this up. He had no idea how long he’d be able to hide his face so that Hawkins wouldn’t recognize him. He had no idea how long he’d be able to keep people from getting too close and realizing his heart doesn’t beat. He certainly has no idea how’s going to fight off his hunger. God he was hungry. He felt weak, he was weak, and he was never one to resist temptation. But this was beyond temptation this was need. Surrounded by beating hearts, tender flesh, blood pricking from scrapes, blood rushes to skin to form bruises, blood flowing from noses, blood, blood, blood. It was so much, too much, overstimulation of the senses. His deepest need held in front of him, wafted, wavered, his for the taking. He needed to leave, he needed to hunt, he needed to get away, he needed to drink, he needed to keep these people safe, he needed a morsel and fate handed him a buffet. His nostrils flared his hands twitched his head pounded, he had to go, he had to feast, he had to move, he had to do something. Do something! Do something! Don’t just stand there, run! Kill! Hide! Eat! MOVE!

“Are you okay?” His head felt fuzzy blurry, “huh?” “Are you okay Kas? I mean obviously not because, your stomach, but you got all spacey and froze up there for a second, are you- do you need something else?” Yes he needed something else, he needed to eat. “I’m just hungry is all. I think i’ll feel better if i have something to eat.” the person beside him seemed relieved “oh okay, i can understand that. We can- i mean i can take you somewhere to eat after th-” “no. no i need to eat now.” he felt bad about cutting them off but he couldn’t be in there a second longer “I think part of the pain might be stomach cramps? And i’m just really hungry. Gotta fuel my body right?” He hoped that sounded convincing. The desperation in his voice was enough to convince Y/N that leaving was what was best. “Okay, uh. My work here is pretty much done and my stuff is all in my car and I’m free to go whenever so how should we.. i mean i don't think you should be driving in this condition so if you drove here I can get your car at a later time but for now do you just want to ride with me?” Eddie really didn’t care he just needed to get out of there “yep good, sounds good. Are you ready to go? I’m ready to leave if uh you are.” Every second he spent here was another second chipping away at his already weak resolve. “Kas are you sure you’re feeling alright enough to leave without getting treated?” It took everything in him not to snap at this poor human who just wanted to help “Y/N, i so very much appreciate everything that you’re doing for me but i cannot remember the last time i’ve had something to eat.” their eyes widened a bit at the outburst “okay that’s, yeah we can do that, my car shouldn't be too far.” they started walking “did you have any idea as to what you wanted to eat?” Normally when asked this question Eddie had plenty of ideas, a whole plethora of comfort foods, pizza, pasta, burgers, tacos, cereal, fried chicken, waffles, the list went on. Eddie only had one thing come to mind. A dread pooled and formed a pit in his stomach upon realizing the craving. “Kas?” He wanted meat, raw meat. He wanted blood. “I don’t really know, it’s been so long.” he didn’t even convince himself. “Well you’ve got some time to think in the car ride. Do you need help taking those off?” gesturing to his wings “what?” he cocked his head “with the wings? I get the feeling not many restaurants will let us in with those, i also don't think they’ll fit in my car, i can get them in my trunk though.” he froze “i can’t take them off.” there was a pause “you can’t take them off?” he shook his head “nope” another pause “where are they attached? Because if they attached to the shirt i think i have extra clothes and if they’re attached to the skin i have every kind of prosthetic remover in my bag so i’m sure we could get them off.” he shook his head again “i can’t take them off, i can sit in the back seat if that works?” Y/N shrugged “alright i guess, but can you tuck them down so i can see out of the windows? They might be a bit of a hazard.” How was he supposed to do that? “Yeah I think so.” it’s fine, it’s part of his body, just like fingers, he can move his fingers, what are wings if not really long fingers for bats? He could control his own body. He heard them fold in. The car was quiet, it dampened the outside noises, but it trapped him with them. The whole car smelled like them, the warm air being blown from the car carried their smell to the back. “Can you roll down a window back here?” “Yeah for sure” immediately the cool air provided some relief. It was quiet, the radio was a murmur and the wind whistled, the light hum of the car, the buzzing of the headlights. It was nice.

“So have you picked something out yet?” “Would it be possible to just go to the store?”

#kas!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader #vampire!eddie #monster!Eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Fright Night #sorry this took forever #edward munson #stranger things season four #my works

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cryingcow · 3 years ago

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Character Story - Kashiwagi (1988) [RGGO]

Gonna skip my usual intro because I’m putting a lot in the notes below ^^. Thank you to @tragicdeity, @arysthaeniru, @howlinvixen, @milktrician-hell, @majimemegoro, @konnanjanai and @chaoszonenate (can’t tag you for some reason :< ) for voting!

Story: Kashiwagi wants to help out the owner of his favorite noodle shop from losing his land, but unfortunately the landgrab is being done under Dojima's orders.

Kazama: “If there’s a butt out there, I will wipe it.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Please tell me you mean that figuratively.”

Notes:

1) 鬼柏 – “Oni Kashiwa”. “Oni” here as in the ogre and “Kashiwa” from Kashiwagi’s name. Idk if this title is supposed to be A) a pun on “Onigawara” which they already did with Detective Kawara in Y2 (“Demon Kawara” in the localization and “Oni-kawara” in the OG Japanese); B) implying what Kashiwagi’s tattoo might be; or C) referring to the strength, scary face and Trese-like demon horns hairline of Kashiwagi.

2) “Kumicho” – usually I translate this as “Head” in other stories, but here it’s used too often as a suffix for it to sound not awkward. I still left “Boss”(Oyaji) and “Captain”(Wakagashira) translated tho

3) 錦の御旗 – “nishiki no mihata”. Refers to the flag of the the royal court’s army, but as an idiom it means “worthy cause”. Just funky info :D

4) “Dogeza” –kneeling on the ground and bowing with head touching the floor to show deference

5) “If there’s a butt, I’ll wipe it”- a funnier version of the idiom “if there’s a mess, I’ll clean it up”, I assume, and not just Kazama being weird XD

CHAPTER 1

|Before the “Empty Lot uproar” that stemmed from the Kamurocho redevelopment plan shook the city . . .|

Punk A: “That’s why! Quit ripping us off! Hey!”

Yakitori Shop Manager: “I’ll be in trouble . . . ! I’m already indebted to the Kazama Family . . . !”

Punk B: “Huhh? Kazama Family . . . ? Hehe, you must be new, right? Your lie is too poor. I’ll teach you. The Kazama Family is at the height of its power and the star of the Dojima Family.”

Punk A: “The Kazama Family wouldn’t be the type to partner with a broke store like this~!”

Punk B: “Kyahaha! Right, right!”

?: “A broke store . . . ? I don’t understand.”

Punk A: “Ah . . . ?”

Kashiwagi: “Try out the gizzard here with some highball next time. You’ll find it irresistible.”

Punk A: “Uugh . . . ! Wh-Who are you?!”

Kashiwagi: “I’m the enforcer for this shop. You can see it clearly if you look.”

Punk B: “A-Amazing power . . . ! Damn! From which family are you?! Huh?!”

Yakitori Shop Manager: “Ka-Kashiwagi-san!”

Punk A: “Huh . . . . . . ? Kashiwagi . . . . . . ?!”

Punk B: “The Kazama Family enforcer is . . . Kashiwagi . . . Eh? Eh? Eh? ‘That’ Kashiwagi?!?!?!”

Kashiwagi: “What? You know of me?”

Punk B: “Oi . . . !! Kazama Family’s Kashiwagi . . . isn’t that ‘Oni Kashiwa’ . . . !!!!”

Punk A: “I-I-It’s the first time I’ve seen his face . . . !! I-I wonder if I can get an autograph . . . ?!”

Punk B: “Stupid guy! I want it too . . . !! . . . . . . Haha~. I get it.”

Punk A: “Wh-What is it?”

Punk B: “They’re trying to deceive us . . . ! They have the nerve to make up a story together! Think carefully! Kashiwagi-san wouldn’t come out for a place like this . . . !”

Punk A: “I-I see . . . ! Is that the case . . . ? Alright, let’s continue!”

Punk B: “Heh, hehehe . . . would Kashiwagi of the Kazama Family be so forbidding . . . ?”

Punk A: “Nice try, you bastard! Do you think we’re scared?!”

Kashiwagi: “Then hurry up and bring it on. I don’t want to be doing this either.”

Punk A: “Uh . . .”

Kashiwagi: “You’re not scared of yakuza?!?! Bring it on quickly then!!!!”

Punk A and B: “Hiiii!! Sorry!!!!”

Punk A: “. . . Huh! I apologized involuntarily . . . !!”

Punk B: “Oi! That’s enough! This guy seems absolutely strong! Let’s bounce!!”

Punk A: “Don’t be scared! Let’s really do it!!!!”

Kashiwagi: “That’s the spirit!! I’ll let you spar with me!!!!”

{Kashiwagi wipes the floor with the punks.}

Punk A: “Hiiii! U-Unreasonable strengthhhh . . . !!”

Punk B: “Th-There’s no mistake . . . ! He’s real . . . !! The real Kashiwagi Osamu . . . ! It’s ‘Oni Kashiwa’ . . . !!!!”

Kashiwagi: “This shop is under my jurisdiction. If you have any complaints, come anytime.”

Punk A: “No!! We’ve learned our lesson!! Thanks!!!!”

Punk B: “I’m a big fan of Kashiwagi-san!! It’s an honor to meet you!!!!”

Punk A and B: “Then, please excuse us!!!!”

{The punks run away.}

Kashiwagi: “. . . Who were they? Are you alright, Shop Manager?”

Yakitori Shop Manager: “Ye-Yes . . . thank you very much! Th-is doesn’t happen often . . .”

Kashiwagi: “That’s why I’m always saying not to worry. My Boss has me striking fast. I’ll come back next time. Let me eat good food again. See ya.”

{Kashiwagi leaves.}

Yakitori Shop Manager: “Yes . . . Kashiwagi, thank you very much! Kashiwagi-san of the Kazama Family, huh . . . Well, I yearn to be in the same line of work like him . . . !”

----

Kashiwagi: “Yo.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Welcome. What’ll it be for today?”

Kashiwagi: “Extra large.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Oh, is your work over?”

Kashiwagi: “Yeah. Thanks to that I’m starving.”

{A bowl is placed in front of Kashiwagi.}

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Okay, the cold noodles special you waited for.”

{There’s a lot of slurping as Kashiwagi digs in.}

Kashiwagi: “. . . Phew~. Doesn’t that bring me back to life. I saw the light was on so I entered here . . . Chief, isn’t today a regular holiday?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . Yup. That’s right. I couldn’t pay the rent.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Rent? This land belongs to you.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . A while ago, it was seized by the Noto Family because of debt.”

Kashiwagi: “What . . . ?! Oi, if you had consulted me . . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Sorry. But I couldn’t bother you with this . . .”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Did you say Noto Family? A third-tier subsidiary of the Tojo Clan?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Yup. Originally there was no problem because it’s almost the same as market price . . . Last month, they said they’d suddenly increase the amount . . . It’s double what it was before.”

Kashiwagi: “It doubled . . . ? That’s messed up. Did you hear the reason why?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “No . . . only that they raised the price . . . Well, that’s what the landowner says . . . I have no choice but accept it to protect this place.”

Kashiwagi: “Even so, working without holidays . . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . Well, it’s a job I like to do. Besides, I have memories here with my wife too . . . I can’t just let it go.”

Kashiwagi: “. . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Haha, well, isn’t that why Kashiwagi-san sometimes asks for expensive sweet and sour pork.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . . . . Yeah, that’s right. Don’t overdo it.”

----

|3 weeks later.|

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . Ah, welcome.”

Kashiwagi: “Chief . . . another month with no holidays?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Because it’s for the restaurant . . . Cold noodles and water, coming right up.”

Kashiwagi: “No, I just came by to see how you were today. I’m telling this for your own good, it’s better to take a break—”

{The door opens.}

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hello~ it’s the Noto Family. Doing your job, Chief? Impressive, impressive.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . This guy.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Ku-Kumicho-san . . . What are you doing here?”

Noto Family Kumicho: “This is a notice of a rent increase. It will be 600,000 yen starting next month. Nice to meet you.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “6 . . . ! 600,000?!”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hmm? If you don’t agree, you know you can leave, right?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Th . . . That’s . . . But this is really messed up . . . !”

Noto Family Kumicho: “If you have any complaints, then out with it! You want to be beaten up?!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Hiii!”

Kashiwagi: “That’s enough.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Aah? What the hell . . . !! Kashiwagi of the Kazama Family . . . ?!”

Kashiwagi: “This shop is close to me. I can’t overlook this anymore.”

Noto family Member: “Boss . . . ! This is bad . . . No way we can go up against that Kashiwagi . . .”

Noto Family Kumicho: “. . . Heh. I don’t need to be scared. This is for a worthy cause. Hehe, Kashiwagi-san. You shouldn’t say such things. Are you poking your nose into this matter? If you get in the way . . . you and Kazama will be ruined.”

Kashiwagi: “Ruined . . . ?”

-END-

CHAPTER 2

Kashiwagi: “Ruined . . . ? That’s a huge claim.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hehe, do you think it’s a false threat? This matter . . . it’s the intention of Dojima-kumicho.”

Kashiwagi: “Dojima-kumicho’s . . . ?”

Noto Family Kumicho: “This land. Dojima-san wants it very much. It’s certainly a prime location. So if you get in the way . . . you are as good as going against Dojima Sohei. Kashiwagi-san, it’s not just you. Kazama-oyabun will not be separate. At any rate, you are under Dojima-kumicho. There’s reason to moderate your behavior. It’s not just demotion from Captain . . . maybe even excommunication . . . ?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Ku-Kumicho-san . . . did you intend to crush this restaurant from the beginning?!”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Oi, oi, don’t say I’m a bad person. Don’t get hurt, Chief. Isn’t the 600,000 yen money going to Dojima-san, not us? ‘If I pay this much earnings, will you pardon the shop?’ you said. Am I not trying to protect this shop in my own way . . . ?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “I-Is that true?”

Noto Family Kumicho: “It’s true. So do your best, okay? Well, have a good day.”

{The Noto Family kumicho leaves.}

Kashiwagi: “Wait, this isn’t over.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “No, Kashiwagi-san!! Stay! What if something happens to Kazama-san?!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . . . . I’m sorry, Chief.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Don’t worry. I’m still young. I need to show how much I want to protect my castle!”

Kashiwagi: “. . .”

----

Dojima Sohei: “Isn’t it unusual for you to come all this way to see me? . . . Huh, Kashiwagi.”

Kashiwagi: “Sorry for taking up your time.”

Dojima Sohei: “And? What do you require.”

Kashiwagi: “The landgrabbing of a Chinese restaurant that the Noto Family is doing . . . can you cancel it?”

Dojima Sohei: “. . . Aah, that place?”

Kashiwagi: “Instead, I can prepare another piece of land you can have. It’s much larger than that one and is in a good location.”

Dojima Sohei: “. . . It’s useless. It’s not just that land. I’m going to demolish that whole area and redevelop it.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . If it’s money you want, I can prepare it.”

Dojima Sohei: “Foolish. 1 billion yen is not enough.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Is there no way for it to be cancelled?”

Dojima Sohei: “. . . . . . Yeah, no.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . . . . Understood. Please excuse me.”

{Kashiwagi leaves.}

Dojima Sohei: “. . . Hm. I got a cold sweat. That bastard . . . giving me a murderous eye here of all places . . .”

----

Kashiwagi: “. . .”

Punk A: “Oi! You’re Kashiwagi-san, right? Of the Kazama Family.”

Punk B: “No mistake. This is the guy. The one we’ve been looking for!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Tch. Out of the way.”

Punk A: “Is that so~! We should be famous for beating the hell out of you~!”

Punk B: “As soon as that Kashiwagi is messed up, we’ll gain prestige!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . All right. However—"

Punk A and B: “Ah?”

Kashiwagi: “Long-term hospitalization costs money.”

Punk A: “Huh! You can’t afford it?! I’m looking forward to you crying and apologizing!!”

{Kashiwagi beats the punks up.}

Punk A: “Hiiii~! Sorry! Please forgive us . . . !!”

Kashiwagi: “Scram.”

Punk A and B: “We’re sorry~!!”

{The punks run away.}

Kashiwagi: (. . . Do I go see how the Chief is doing?)

----

Kashiwagi: “Sorry to disturb, Chief—"

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Uugh . . .”

Kashiwagi: “! Chief! What happened!”

{Kashiwagi helps him up.}

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . Sorry, Kashiwagi-san. You had to see me in an awful state.”

Kashiwagi: “Would anyone else work until they collapse?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “But . . . if I can’t pay 600,000 yen, the shop will . . .”

{The door opens.}

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hello! I came to collect the rent~. What’s this, are you taking a break?”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “I’m sorry, I haven’t got the money yet . . .”

Noto Family Kumicho: “. . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “If you wait a little longer, I’ll definitely prepare it! So—"

Noto Family Kumicho: “A~ah. Geez, I wonder why you can’t pay 600,000. Well, even if you could pay it~ I was planning to increase the cost and evict you next month.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Eh? Wh-What do you mean? The promise was that if I pay, I won’t be kicked out . . .”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Did you seriously believe that? Heehee, congratulations on falling for it! I chose to lie so I could squeeze money out of you! It’s a definite matter that you’re getting kicked out!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “I-I see . . .”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Bastard.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hiii . . . Kashiwagi? Wh-What is it . . . calm down! Should you lay your hands on this . . . ?”

Kashiwagi: “This . . . brute!!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “No!! Kashiwagi-san!!”

Kashiwagi: “Don’t stop me, Chief!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “No, you can’t!! You can’t get involved in this!! I can’t stand it if you and Kazama-san are inconvenienced for me!! So please . . . ! Kashiwagi-san . . . !”

Kashiwagi: “Chief . . .”

Noto Family Kumicho: “. . . Thanks to the Chief, I narrowly escaped death from Kashiwagi-san! One week from now. This store will be dismantled by the whole family. If you leave by then, you’ll miss it. But if you want to stay . . . I’ll make you feel at home with the store.”

{The Noto Family kumicho leaves.}

Kashiwagi: “Damn . . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Thank you Kashiwagi-san, that you stopped.”

Kashiwagi: “We have a week. I will move to find a way. So—"

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . It’s okay. I’m giving up the shop. So Kashiwagi-san doesn’t have to . . .”

Kashiwagi: “Chief . . .”

-END-

CHAPTER 3

|And a week later. Store dismantling day . . .|

Noto Family Kumicho: “It’s regrettable saying goodbye to this store. But we should be enthusiastic in dismantling!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . !”

Noto Family Kumicho: “The Chief wears such a gloomy face. Can’t accept reality? You guys! Get started!!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . !! W-Wait—”

Kashiwagi: “Wait!!”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Ah . . . ? isn’t that Kashiwagi-san? What are you going to do this time?”

Kashiwagi: “I want you to stop dismantling the store.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “From the start I told you it’s impossible— No. Hehe, that’s right. Speak to Dojima-kumicho for me, see if you can get past. But hey, it’s hard to persuade that Dojima-kumicho, right? Although . . . you’re very arrogant, aren’t you? Kashiwagi-san.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . . . .”

{Kashiwagi drops to his knees and bows low to the ground.}

Kashiwagi: “I’m asking you. Spare this store.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “! . . . Kashiwagi-san . . .”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Heh . . . hehehehe . . . I didn’t think you would perform dogeza. Isn’t it a nice view~? . . . Kashiwagi!!”

{The Noto Family kumicho kicks Kashiwagi.}

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “!! Kashiwagi-san!!”

Kashiwagi: “Don’t worry about me, Chief.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Heeheehee . . . ! Still resisting? You know what that will get you . . . ?! Hey, you guys do it too!!”

Noto Family Members: “Yes, Boss!!”

{They beat Kashiwagi with wooden planks until the screen goes black.}

Noto Family Kumicho: “Haa . . . haa . . .”

Kashiwagi: “. . . What’s wrong . . . are you done . . . ?”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Tch . . . ! You’re still talking? What a stubborn guy . . .”

Noto Family Member A: “Bo-Boss, what are we going to do? At this rate, the sun will set.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “. . . Start dismantling the store. This guy is beaten so much he can’t move.”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Bastard . . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Kashiwagi-san . . . !!”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Crawl there and watch the shop fall to pieces!!”

?: “Isn’t it quite selfish? . . . Kashiwagi.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Ah?”

Kashiwagi: “!! . . .”

Kazama: “When you don’t inform your parent. Heh. Isn’t it lonely?”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Ka-Kazama . . . ?!”

Kashiwagi: “Boss . . . ! Why . . .”

Kazama: “I was allowed to investigate the situation. Kashiwagi . . . If there’s a butt, I’ll wipe it. You should do as you want.”

Kashiwagi: “But . . .”

Kazama: “Do you like the cold noodles in this restaurant? Heh. Me too. The flavor of this restaurant must be preserved at all costs. Don’t make a fuss anymore. Stand up, Osamu. . . . Brace yourself!!”

Kashiwagi: “! . . . . . . yes sir!!”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Da-Damn it . . . for Kazama to come out . . . !! Aren’t these guys scared of Dojima . . . ?!”

Kashiwagi: “Are you ready . . . ? I’m getting considerably mad now.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Sh-Shut up!! The Noto Family isn’t backing down!!!!”

Kashiwagi: “I see. Then . . . from the guy near death . . . bring it on!!!!”

{Kashiwagi defeats the Noto Family members.}

Noto Family Kumicho: “I-It can’t be . . . you should be the one all beaten up . . . all the members alone . . . this is Kashiwagi . . . !!”

Kashiwagi: “. . . You’re the only one left.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hi-Hiii!”

{The Noto Family kumicho runs away.}

----

[Phone Booth]

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hello! This is Noto from the Noto Family! It’s an urgent situation!! I’m asking for Dojima-kumicho!!!! . . . . . . Ah, Dojima-kumicho! Heh, hehe . . . I’m saved . . . !! Please listen!! Kazama and Kashiwagi are interfering with the landgrabbing . . . !!”

Dojima Sohei: “There is no talk of that land anymore. I no longer need it.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “. . . . . . Eh? What does that mean . . .”

Dojima Sohei: “Heh . . . you’re not lucky.”

{Dojima hangs up.}

Noto Family Kumicho: “Do-Dojima-kumicho . . . !! Dojima-san!! Oi!! Dojima!!”

Kashiwagi: “It looks like the ladder has been removed.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Hiii . . . He-Help . . .”

Kashiwagi: “Do you want to return the land to Chief?”

Noto Family Kumicho: “I . . . I understand . . .”

Kashiwagi: “Starting today, that shop is my territory. Don’t drop by ever again.”

Noto Family Kumicho: “Ye-Yes . . .”

Kashiwagi: “That’s right. Thank you!!”

{The Noto Family kumicho collapses.}

Kashiwagi: “Phew . . . aah . . . I’m hungry.”

----

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “For absolutely everything . . . Thank you, Kashiwagi-san. Truly . . . how can I thank you . . . !!”

Kashiwagi: “Heh. Then today is a treat from the Chief.”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “. . . Yeah. Yeah!! I’ll bring you the best cold noodles!! Please wait!!”

Kashiwagi: “Oi, don’t be too enthusiastic and cut your hands.”

Kazama: “That’s one matter settled.”

Kashiwagi: “Boss . . . I’m sorry!!”

Kazama: “Heh. Really. When I heard that you went to see Patriarch Dojima, I was surprised. Kashiwagi . . . rely on me more. We are parent and child.”

Kashiwagi: “! . . . I thank you . . . !! . . . Um, Boss.”

Kazama: “Hm?”

Kashiwagi: “That Dojima . . . how did you persuade him?”

Kazama: “Heh. Don’t ask about a boorish matter. Even if I’m a minor figure in the yakuza, I have a lot of negotiation material for such occasions.”

Kashiwagi: “But . . .”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Sorry to have kept you both waiting!! Special cold noodles, big mugs of beer, gyoza and fried chicken!!”

Kazama: “Hehe . . . this is irresistible. Well, the matter has concluded. Isn’t this quite a feast we’ve come by?”

Kashiwagi: “. . . Yes!”

{They dig in.}

Kashiwagi: “Phew~ . . . ! The cold noodles here are the best after all . . . ! Thank you for your continued support, Chief!”

Chinese Restaurant Manager: “Yup . . . ! This shop and the flavor you defended . . . I’ll protect it for the rest of my life!”

-END-

Masterlist

#for real tho check out what i linked in the ''hairline'' bit. look how much they massacred our boy's iconic hairline post-Y0 :')#I hope the ''Oni'' bit refers to all three tho so at least we know what his tattoo might be :D #imagine youre Joji and your brother says weird shit like this Id go join a terrorist organization too #rgg online #rggo lore #rggo #rgg #Ryu ga Gotoku #yakuza #kashiwagi osamu #osamu kashiwagi #dojima sohei #sohei dojima #shintaro kazama #kazama shintaro

137 notes · View notes

angelkurenai · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine Dean using pick up lines on you because he likes you and wants to ask you out but you keep taking things too seriously, not getting his flirting.

“Police says that while they couldn't find the object of the murder it is believed to be a-” Sam had been eagerly talking about what he had discovered but all words died out in his lips when he noticed that his brother wasn't paying even the slightest attention to him “Dean?” he asked instead “Dean are you even listening to me? Dean!”

“Wha- huh?” he blinked, his eyes finally falling on his brother but only for a short amount of time. He glanced in your direction once more, though, quickly after that. His eyes even followed your form as you kept looking for the books you needed.

“Sorry Sammy, I was-” he cleared his throat “A bit distracted.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Sam snorted but his amusement was running low, especially after all this time.

There was nothing funny he could find about his brother's attempts at flirting with you and you failing to understand the most simple pick up line the older Winchester could come up with. Amusing it was at first, yes, because no matter how hard his brother tried there didn't seem to be a single thing he said that would convince you he was indeed flirting with you. Why, Sam couldn't understand. Maybe it had to do with Dean having been flirty from the first day and thus making you think of it as nothing more than just another trait of his. Or maybe it had to do with you always being too busy to help them out with any case that you took everything Dean said either too seriously or not in consideration at all. Whatever the case, it all made you look incredibly clueless.

And as that, Dean would always end up frustrated or caught on a dead end that would leave him at a loss for words which was always fun if someone took into account the fact that Dean never had had this kind of problem with a woman before you, not like any woman before you could even be compared to you – that Sam was sure Dean would swear his life on. But his brother being in love with you didn't make things any easier, if anything it only took away some of his usual confidence and calm to the point it made it even funnier. Or at least it used to, the first couple months. Right now, Sam's patience and amusement were at minimum. Especially when his brother refused to pay attention to anything else but ways to get you to go out on a date with him or, at the very least, acknowledge that yes he was flirting with you and yes he was actually interested in you in more ways than one and hopefully that you'd let him know if you felt the same or not. That was all that was in his mind, day and night, and of course Sam could no longer find that amusing. There was hardly any joy in trying to solve the case all alone, really, because Dean one way or another kept you more busy too.

“Will you just give up already?” he couldn't help the huff that left is lips, voice low so that Dean could only hear him “I don't really think there is any use in-”

“Sammy!” Dean's eyes widened, as he looked back at his brother “Whose side are you on? Of course I'm not going to give up. She'll- She'll get it at some point.”

“Some point. Yeah. I hope not when she's about to have grandchildren though.”

“No of course not. Much sooner, but- Even if it's then, it's gonna be our grandchildren. Mind my words, you'll see it one day.” he said so confident and, mostly, sure that it would be the case that Sam couldn't help but scoff a small laugh.

“Hey, how about-” Sam sighed “Have you ever thought of, oh I don't know, taking another approach and just sitting down in front of her and tell her in all seriousness about your feelings and ask her if she feels that way too? You know, like normal people do? Through straight-forward talking and-”

“Are you crazy?” Dean whisper-hissed at his brother, casting a glance in your direction to make sure you were not listening to them which, judging by the distance and the focused look on your face, you were already immersed in your search and the case itself more than anybody else in the room. More than Dean would ever be for sure “You know I don't do that kind of thing! It's- it's far too complicated man and I- I'm just- I'm not good with... words, you know that. And when it comes to (Y/n), hell, it gets ten times worse.”

“Right.” this time Sam did smile in amusement “I almost forget. You lose every ability to speak and breathe like a normal human being.” he tried to conceal a laugh at the memory of you calling Sam in worry when you had thought Dean was about to have a heart attack the last time he really – too fed up with you taking him too seriously or being so oblivious – had tried to tell you how he felt.

“Yes and don't make fun of it because it will be no fun story to tell your future nieces and nephews about how their daddy died so young and-”

“Alright, let me stop you right there for a second because-” Sam shook his head, stealing a glance at you as well – far away from them still “Too many things have been said in one sentence that just- they really make my brain cells hurt. You know that in order to have kids with her you need to ask her out first. And in order to ask her out you need to tell her how you feel too.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. Isn't it all so easy for you, Sammy?” he rolled his eyes at his brother before he sighed “But just- Bear with me, for once-”

“Once?” Sam's eyebrows shot up as he scoffed a laugh “What do you think I've been doing for the past ten months Dean?”

“Yeah, alright. Alright, I get it. It's taking too long, but- Really, this time it's going to work. I've got it all figured out, Sammy!” he said with a grin so bright and hopeful that, Sam knew, wasn't going to last for long.

“Oh really?” he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair “So you mean you've come up with something more catchy than the last hm- What was the number?” he frowned deeply in though “Oh yes, 58 pick up lines. You think that this time, the 59th time it is going to work? That it will get her to realize you are seriously flirting with her because you're interested in her and not being that's your default mode?”

“My de- what? No man! I mean, yes. I mean- No, it's not my default mode and yes it is that good of a- Wait, it hasn't been 58... Has it?”

“Trust me, I've been keeping count of it. It has been at least 58, not including the couple times I wasn't there to hear you. Honestly, I'm more surprised at you being able to remember all those so well than her not getting that you're trying to-”

“Trying to what?” this time Sam didn't get to finish his sentence not because of his brother, but a third party and the person of the moment as a matter of fact.

“(Y/n), hey!” Dean said so... casually, but also in such a forced way, that Sam had to keep himself from wincing. You paid it no attention though. Raising an eyebrow at him you ignored it completely and placed the books on the table “These are all the books I could find on Greek mythology and gods that I haven't gone through before, so they should hold an answer to the case. So-” you sighed and added “What were you guys talking about?”

“Oh nothing in particular. We just started speaking about the case and then it moved to more... general topics.” Sam said with a tight smile, glancing at his brother who – no surprise – was preparing himself to try his luck again.

“...Alright.” you said slowly, pouring more of your drink into your glass “If that's what you-”

“Hey, (Y/n)-” Dean started and Sam almost held his breath as he prepared for what was to come “I didn't get to tell you, but you look great today!”

“Uhm thank you?” you frowned but didn't question it any further.

“No need.” he brushed it off with a casual wave of his hand “I mean it. Really!” he grinned as charmingly as he could “I mean, are those jeans new? Because wow, they look amazing on you!”

“I think I told you I was going shopping though, didn't I? Anyway-” you shook your head “Thank you, they were 30% off. That's always a good deal.”

“The sweetest deal would be another one though. You see-” he smiled, leaning forward on his elbow as you sat next to him “I'd prefer if they were 100% off.”

Alright, Sam had to admit, despite what he had been preparing himself to hear that one was actually very smooth – maybe more confident than Dean had ever sounded before too – and there was a chance of it working. But he wasn't going to judge things too quickly, instead he only held his breath harder than before in anticipation of what you were going to say. And really, maybe much like any other time, this could either go really well for Dean and you'd finally get to realize he was flirting with you or-

“Uhm thank you but-” you laughed casually “You know that can't happen.”

“Wha- Huh?” Dean blinked and Sam was almost on the edge of his seat.

“Because the shops can't give away their products just like that!” you scoffed a laugh as if it was the most simple thing in the world, taking a sip of your drink “That's just a terrible way to run a business. Everybody knows that.”

Sam couldn't help but snort at that, barely holding his laughter, and tried to cover it up with a small cough.

“I-” Dean started, blinking several times but completely ignoring his brother before mumbling “That's not what I- Nevermind.” he cleared his throat “I actually wanted to tell you something more-” he started again and Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

If he really was going for a second try, then he definitely felt confident today.

“Hmh sure, go ahead.” you said with a sweet smile, chin resting on your palm.

“See I felt like I needed a change in my life and I was wondering if you could help me with that.”

“If there's anything I can do, then sure, anything for you. You know that.”

“Well, that'd be great actually. Because you see, you're actually the only person that could give me a hand with this.” Dean said so smoothly that Sam really had to keep himself from looking to surprised or even more letting that thought carry him away and thus prevent him from hearing your reply. He knew that whatever the case, that would be priceless much like the previous one.

“Yes, of course. Anything as I said.”

“Well, I-” he shrugged with an almost cute smile as he looked at you “You see I wanted to spice things up a bit, and-”

“But you know I'm allergic to chilli.” you cut him off with a frown and a tilt of your heard.

A cough from Sam as he tried to hide his laughter.

“Wha- No.” Dean shook his head “No, I meant in the bedroom.”

“Doesn't matter in which room I eat, Dean, I'm still going to be allergic to chilli!” you said matter-of-factly and also so casually that Sam almost forgot to hide his amusement. Almost. Because with a pointed look from his brother he tried to conceal it with some coughing.

“That's not what I was trying to say, (Y/n), I-” he cleared his throat once more, trying to regain his composure as he straightened his back a bit “I'm just saying I had this thought and now can't get it out my mind.” he started and as you nodded for him with a soft curious smile to go on, his own smile got even bigger and he kept going “I think, and I'd love to find out for real too, that you'd be cute grasping at the sheets of my bed. What do you say?”

Your smile didn't flatter so for the first time Sam curious to see how it would turn out.

“Cute?” you asked with a raised eyebrow “Well, thank you for the compliment but let's both agree and I bet I'd be more than just cute.” you actually smiled more widely and Sam had to keep his eyes from widening, much like Dean really, who couldn't believe it had worked.

“But-” you spoke up again “No matter how much you sweet talk me, Winchester-” you looked him in the eyes “I ain't making your bed.”

“Wha-” Dean blinked “I didn't-”

“You're a grown ass man. You can do your bed on your own.” you got completely serious with those last words, before leaving both of them in utter silence and focused back on the book you'd placed right in front of you.

“But I- I-” stammering and incoherent words were the only things you heard before there was some scraping of he chair as Dean pushed it back and got up, mumbling to himself “I need a beer. A whole pack of beers.”

…

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat after the silence that had set between the two of you, a small laugh leaving his lips “Well, since you're the only one so focused on this case, I'll take a look at your notes. Don't think we can count on Dean anymore.”

“Mhm” came a soft hum from you after which you were left in silence for only a couple seconds before- “So what was this now?” you asked, making Sam look up with a frown.

“Huh?”

“What number. Does it count as 59 or is it, because he technically tried to use three different pick up lines in one conversation, that it counts for three and therefore we're on 61?” you looked up with a smirk and a wide smile slowly spread on Sam's face.

The man laugh and nodded his head in understanding “Of course. Of course.”

“Hey, the day when Dean Winchester outsmarts me has not come yet. And it won't anytime soon. I plan to keep this up for a long time to come.”

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

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the-badger-mole · 4 years ago

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Arranged Marriage Part 3

So this is an idea that I’ve had bumping around for a while. It might grow up to become a real fic someday, but for now, please enjoy this loosely connected series of vignettes centered around an arranged Zutara marriage.

“We need to figure out how to talk,” Katara insisted. “We’ve been married for six months, and so far we’ve had one date and a bunch of really quiet meals. We’re supposed to be making friends.”

“What do you suggest?” Zuko scoffed.

“Uncle is alway going about the virtues of Pai Sho,” Katara shrugged, ignoring Zuko’s mood. “How about we play?”

“Somehow I doubt that’s the cure for what’s wrong with us.”

“How about we make it interesting?” That got Zuko’s attention. He turned towards his wife, his brow raised skeptically.

“How do we do that?”

Katara pulled her hands from behind her back, revealing a half-full bottle of shoju with a triumphant grin. Zuko very nearly smiled back.

“Your opponent takes a shot every time you take one of their pieces,” she explained.

“You’re not serious,” Zuku tried to laugh, but it came out weak and uncertain.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Katara replied solemnly.

“Why?”

“Because you can’t do the vulnerability thing sober, and I can’t stop snarking at you.” Katara opened the bottle and poured two shots into glasses she had brought with her. “I have no idea if being drunk will make me nicer, but maybe you’ll find me funnier.” Zuko shot her a look that said he doubted that very much.

“Where did you even get that?”

“I swiped it from the kitchen,” Katara explained. “There was tons of booze. I don’t think anyone will notice.” Katara held a shot glass up to Zuko. “Are you in?”

Zuko hesitated a moment, and then took the glass from her.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

“You cannot be serious!” Katara nearly tumbled out of her seat laughing. “Lieutenant Jee did not say that!”

“He did!” Zuko swore wiping away tears of mirth. “He did! He was completely wasted, and he doesn’t remember, but I have witnesses!”

“How many shots have we had?” Katara held up the bottle and tried to focus, but her vision swam distractingly.

“Three, I think,” Zuko frowned and tried to cound on his fingers. “No, wait...Maybe I’ve had four.”

“You are so bad at this game!” Katara laughed. “How are you so bad?”

“Being bad’s th’ only thing ‘m good at,” Zuko replied, slurring a bit. Katara lifted herself out of her seat and stumbled around the table, upsetting the Pai Sho board with her hip. She took Zuko’s face in her hands and squeezed until his lips puckered.

“You lissen to me!” she said, trying to look him in the eyes. “You’re good at a lots of things!”

“Blike wah?” Zuko asked through his involuntarily pursed lips.

“Tracking!” Katara declared. “You’re amazing at tracking!”

“Azula’s better.” Zuko pulled Katra’s hands off of his face and held them loosely between them. Katara snorted derisively.

“Azula cheated!” she shouted. Zuko winced as her voice echoed off of the walls. “You found us! She followed Appa’s fur! Cheater!”

“Azula always lies,” Zuko nodded seriously. “I’m sorry about that. The chasing you thing.”

“You’ve said that," Katara said, suddenly feeling sober. “I forgive you. We all do!’

“Not the Avatar,” Zuko huffed. “He was actually rude at our wedding, you know. I was kind of impressed. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Yeah, well,” Katara grabbed the shoju and took a swig straight from the bottle. “He wasn’t mad about you chasing us.” Zuko took the bottle from Katara and poured himself another shot. It took him two tries, and he spilled a good bit on the upset Pai Sho table.

“So what’s his problem?” Zuko asked. “He wanted to be friends, you know? He said it himself!”

“That was probably before I agreed to marry you.” Katara took the bottle back.

“What’s that got to-” Zuko froze with the shot glass halfway to his lips. Katara met his gaze guiltily. Zuko threw his shot back, and Katara took another pull from the bottle.

“He’s not mad at you for chasing us,” Katara assured him. Then to Katara’s surprise, Zuko threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh man!” he chuckled. “You were jealous of me and Mai? Your ex is the Avatar!” Despite the alcohol in her system, Katara flushed in embarrassment.

“He’s not my ex!” Katara snapped. “We never...I was never...Whatever! You suck at Pai Sho!” Zuko took the shoju and poured them both another round. He passed Katara her glass and they took another shot.

“You didn’t like him?” Zuko asked, blinking against the dizziness.

“No!” Katara bent over laughing and sank to the floor. “You’re so drunk, you know! I got the Crown Prince drunk! They’re going to put me in prison.”

“They should!” Zuko laughed. “But I wouldn’t let them. You’re my wife, and I like you!”

“Do you?” Katara laughed as she stretched out on the floor. She patted the space next to her, and shut her eyes. She felt like she was spinning. Distantly she was aware of Zuko lying down beside her.

“I like you,”Zuko said again. “You’re fun. I don’t want this place to take that away from you.” Katara snorted with laughter.

“Fun?” she repeated incredulously. “No one thinks I’m fun. My friends think I’m boring.’

“Your friends are idiots,” Zuko scoffed. Then he jerked up into a sitting position. Katara’s eyes opened and she tried to look at him in concern, but there were suddenly three Zukos, and she wasn’t sure which one to focus on.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the one she thought was the right Zuko.

“I shouldn’t have said that about your friends.” Zuko looked nervous. All three of them. Katara laughed and shut her eyes again.

“It’s fine,” she said. “They are idiots. Aang wanted to ride dangerous animals; Sokka wanted to spend all our money on useless garbage; and Toph liked to scam people and risk getting us found. I’m not boring. I’m just not stupid.”

Zuko hummed thoughtfully and resettled beside Katara. He took her hand, emboldened by the shoju. When she didn’t pull away, Zuko laced his fingers with hers. It was nice, the thought pushed its way through the stupor. It was nice holding hands with his wife.

“You know,” he said after a moment. Katara tuned her head and opened one eye. Cute, Zuko thought. “You know, trying to leave the palace alone and unprotected was kind of stupid.”

“Hey!” Katara turned onto her side and poked Zuko with her free hand.

“I’m just saying!” Zuko laughed. “Maybe you couldn’t be stupid like your friends because they forced you to always be the smart one.” Zuko though Katara would turn away again, but she fixed her unsteady gaze on him. She really did have pretty eyes, Zuko observed. He decided he should tell her when he was sober.

“I don’t have to be smart with you?” she asked.

“Nah.” Zuko shook his head. “Just make sure you have someone with you protect you.”

“You protected me,” Katara pointed out. “Even though I totally didn’t need it.”

“‘Course I did,” Zuko said with a hiccup. “I told you, I like you.”

“And you think I’m fun?” Zuko nodded his head, and stared up at the ceiling.

“And smart,” he assured her. “But you can be stupid sometimes, if you want.”

“Zuko?”

“Hm?”

“Can I do something stupid now?”

“Stupider than getting us drunk?” Zuko snorted.

Suddenly, Katara filled Zuko’s field of view. Zuko blinked at her in confusion. Then she lowered her head hesitantly, and Zuko froze, afraid to move and scare her off. Her eyes drifted shut as she pressed her lips to his.

It lasted all of three seconds and Zuko would always remember their first kiss through a haze of drunkenness. But it didn’t matter. It was perfect.

“Wow…” he gasped. Katara nodded in agreement. Then she climbed to her feet unsteadily.

“Good night, Zuko.” She paused outside of her room and grinned at him. “By the way. I totally won that game.”

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 , 12 ,13 , 14, 15 , 16

#Zutara #atla #atla fanfic #arranged marriage au

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bernadineisreborn · 4 years ago

Text

It’s You

Fred Weasley x Reader

A/N: Should I be writing Reality? Yes. Did I have a few dreams about Fred and George and decide to write them instead? Yes. Is the Yule Ball overdone in HP fanfic? Yes. But here you go anyway. Please, stay safe amid corona and if you are protesting!

Warnings: Alcohol is consumed. Sex is referenced. Kisses happen.

Word count: 8.6k, my longest ever for one post I think!

My Masterlist

While you and George were easily best friends, you and Fred Weasley had a more complicated history.

It all started when you were younger.

Your father was a wizard, but the nature of his relationship with your mother was short-lived. Really short lived. They met at a small pub in London, where your mother worked. Your father must have had one-time business on the other side of the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, because your mother spent the night with him and never saw him again.

She didn’t mind though. She was ecstatic when she found out she was pregnant, never mind her being single. Raising you as alone was, understandably, very difficult, but she was never one to give up. She was clueless to the secret world that your father had belonged to. Until, one day, you sneezed and broke every glass in the room.

You were six at the time, and your mother had no idea what to do. You had displayed small signs of magic before, but those could be written off as coincidence. This glass-shattering sneeze, however, could not.

It was a week later that you summoned a cupcake into your chubby fist while out shopping. Your mother was horrified. Luckily, there was another witch in the store.

“Well, wasn’t that lovely!” she exclaimed, her red-orange hair falling in front of her face as she bent down to your level, “But best not let the muggles see, hmm?” She looked to your mum, then, a small smile on her face. You mother’s face was still frozen, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The red-headed woman was smart enough to notice that your mum was, in fact, one of those very muggles. She had absolutely no idea of the magical world, and no idea how to care for a daughter who was summoning cupcakes at will.

She smiled, and extended a hand, “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Molly.”

Your mum smiled faintly, “I’m M/N.”

Molly hummed, her expression nothing but understanding as she looked to you, “And who’s this young dear?”

“I’m Y/N!” you said, taking a bite from the cupcake.

Molly laughed, “Your daughter seems quite special! Don’t worry, they usually start around this age, it’s perfectly normal. Come now, follow me.” The woman ushered you and your mother toward the door, leaving her groceries abandoned in the aisle. After all, Molly Weasley knows to help a wizard in need, and you and your mum were very clearly in need.

Once outside, she attempted to explain herself. “I am in town today dropping off some things for Arthur, my husband. He works at the Ministry, you see. I’ve left the children at home, but Bill’s old enough to watch the others now,” she glanced at you, “How old is she?”

Your mother’s voice was hoarse, though she wasn’t entirely untrusting of the strange, kind woman, “She’s six.”

“Ah, yes, what a darling age. I’ve got a pair of twins who are just that!” She glanced at you again, “Now, that wasn’t the first time Y/N’s made something like this happen, is it?”

----

An hour later, you and your mother were sitting in Molly’s home. Molly was explaining things to your mother, who had taken out a pen and paper and was writing diligent notes.

Molly had introduced you to her children before she had sat down with your mother. Much to your dismay, most of them were boys. There was Ginny, of course, but she was only three.

You were led outside by the adorable tot, to where the two oldest boys had picked up broomsticks and started flying around on them. You were amazed. Ginny, unfortunately, didn’t seem to know how the brooms were flying. Begrudgingly, you made your way to the other four children, who were sitting in the grass and cheering their brothers on. Well, three of them were. One of them, an older boy with horn-rimmed glasses, was reading a book.

You tapped on the nearest shoulder, “Excuse me.”

They turned to you. “Want to watch them play quidditch with us?” asked two of the boys in perfect unison. Their red hair was just as flame-like as their mother’s.

You giggled and sat, “Sure. What’s quidditch?”

Their eyes turned wide at this. Again, they responded together, “Only the greatest sport ever invented!”

----

Thus, your destiny was set. Every Sunday, you visited the Weasley household, where your mother learned everything there was to know about magic, Arthur Weasley learned everything he could about your mother’s “fascinating” muggle life, and you became fast friends with the twins.

Both twins, in fact.

Fred, George, and yourself were inseparable troublemakers, spending every second of time with each other to plan your next great escapade.

And so things continued until your fourth year of Hogwarts.

You expected the school year to start as the last three had, a bit of troublemaking and a lot of fun with your two favorite boys.

But things were different. Awkward.

Fred was, suddenly, funnier and taller and more handsome. George was, too. But it was Fred that filled your 14-year-old stomach with simultaneous dread and excitement whenever you spotted him walking your way.

It was fine, though. You were keeping yourself in check. Until one night, in the Gryffindor common room, you were playing a wizarding version of hide and seek.

George was appointed the “seeker,” so you, Fred, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, and the other involved Gryffindors dispersed. You had been wandering the corridor for a few minutes when you heard something.

You froze, hoping on everything holy that it wasn’t Filch or Mrs. Norris or Peeves or the Bloody Baron.

A freckled hand wrapped over your mouth, muffling your startled scream, and spun you around. Fred was standing in front of you, smiling, “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s only me.”

He removed his hand, and you smiled too, at ease. His smile was so damn contagious and handsome and—

“What do you say?”

You refocused your eyes, which had gone hazy on a freckle near the corner of Fred’s mouth, “Hmm?”

“Honestly, I said, do you want to hide together? Two heads are better than one, I reckon.”

You nodded, and he tugged you along. You walked carefully, peeking around corners and tiptoeing as you went.

Fred wasn’t being quite as quiet as you would have liked, and he was known to get caught, so you shoved at him, “Hey, you big git, do you think you could be any louder?”

He arranged a faux puzzled expression, “Louder? Hmm, yeah, I think I could.” He started stomping his feet and whistling; the sound echoed through the empty corridors. He spun to walk backwards and maintain eye contact with you as he did.

You rolled your eyes, “Ha-ha. Very mature, Fred. I’m sorry I don’t want to lose.”

“Mature? You’re playing hide-and-seek!” He poked at your face.

You swatted him away, “It’s not muggle hide and seek! There’s plenty of danger. We’re in a castle, and it’s dark, and there are ghosts, and there is Filch,” you frowned at him, “And anyway, so are you!”

He grinned, “You’re so competitive. You should try out for quidditch.”

“You know just as well as I do that I can barely fly.”

His ginger eyebrows furrowed in thought, “True.” Then, his smile returned, “Maybe we could let you ride on the back of my broom and kick at people who pass us.”

You laughed, too, at that ridiculous image.

Just then, Fred backed into a display case, making a rather thunderous sound.

“Well, that ought to alert Georgie. Follow me.” Fred dashed around a few corners, before clambering into a small closet. You entered after him, obviously out of breath from the run.

The closet was even more cramped than it looked from the outside, and Fred read your expression as you squished yourself against him. “Merlin, if we’re going to try you out for the team, you’re going to need to start going for a jog every now and again.”

You punched him as well as you could in the tight space.

“Yes! That’s the spirit, Y/N! Now, you just need to be able to balance.” He mimed you sitting on the back of a broomstick, punching at air.

You laughed in spite of yourself.

It was then that you realized your face was entirely too close to Fred’s. He seemed to notice in the same instant, because for all of his never-ending jokes and your unrelenting teasing, you were both silent.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice a whisper, “Do you think he’ll find us?” If you didn’t know better, you’d think Fred’s eyes were locked on your lips, but it was dark and you were probably mistaken.

“Probably,” you replied, just as quiet, “Eventually.” You shifted a little, uncomfortable, and ended up, somehow, even closer to Fred than you were before.

George burst in then, looking rather triumphant.

“Fred! Y/N! Found you…” he glanced between you, noting your position, “Were you two about to snog?”

Maybe you had been about to, maybe you hadn’t. But you pushed Fred roughly away and stepped out of your hiding place. “Ew, no. Fred’s a git. The cupboard was just small.”

You had no way of knowing how your words stung Fred, who brushed his hand through his carrot top hair and said, “Yeah? Well at least I can stay on a broomstick long enough to get five feet in the air!”

You scoffed and followed them down the hall, back through the portrait hole, “Terrible comeback, Weasley.” You turned up your nose at him, “And not even true.”

Fred laughed. “You’re right, it’s closer to ten.”

“Hey!”

----

Every time you thought about the incident after that, your cheeks grew hot of their own accord. You were sure your feelings for Fred were one sided. After all, you were clumsy and had known him since you were kids. He probably thought of you like a sister.

So, in a classic attempt to hide your feelings, you started taking every opportunity to get on Fred’s nerves. By your 6thyear, your actions had morphed your relationship so much, that what you and Fred had was only a shadow of your former friendship. It pained you, yes, but you couldn’t risk straining your relationship with both of the twins because of idiotic teenaged hormones.

“Miss L/N, if you could please direct your attention to the front of the classroom, it would be appreciated,” drawled Snape.

You flushed, your head snapping to Snape, who was explaining Golpalott’s Third Law at the front of the Potion’s classroom. You had been staring at Fred’s side profile across the lab table, daydreaming a bit. Now, both Fred and George, who were sitting next to each other and across from you and Angelina, were looking at you.

“Sorry, Professor,” you mumbled, and the twins snickered.

Angelina poked you, her features pulled into a loving, teasing smirk. She scribbled quickly onto a corner of her parchment, ripped it off, and passed it to you: “Thinking about pulling someone into an empty hallway and snogging them to death, dear Y/N?”

If it was possible, your cheeks burned even hotter. You glanced to Fred, but he was dutifully watching the lecture, if a bit bored looking. You grabbed the note, “ANGELINA!!! Please, spare me! L”

You slid it over to her. She laughed under her breath and began scribbling, “Maybe you ought to watch us practice today??? Might help visualize those fantasies???”

Before you could take it back and write to her just how absurd she was being, and that you had been thinking about nothing of the sort, the scrap of parchment was snatched by Fred.

His eyebrows raised as he read the note. You prepared for him to laugh, to say ‘Finally! I knew you were in love with me! Ha!’ But, he just frowned and turned away. George grabbed the paper next, and when he read it, he shot you a look. George definitely knew how you felt about Fred. He was your best friend, and he had caught you gazing dreamily Fred’s way quite a few times, though you had always denied anything he accused you of. You shrugged, trying to play it off like nothing.

“Miss L/N! What about Weasley is so interesting that you think yourself above my lecture?”

You shrunk into your seat, “Nothing. It won’t happen again, Professor.”

----

After Potions, you gathered your bags and slunk shamefully after Fred, George, and Angelina in the halls. Technically, because of the Triwizard Tournament, there were no quidditch games or practices. But, some of the Gryffindor team was meeting up to practice when time allowed, to stay in shape for next season. Angelina, Fred, and George were on the team, so of course, you spent the practices with them, watching them fly, doing homework, etc.

When you had gathered at the Pitch, you began feeble attempts at writing a Charms essay. Mostly, though, you were distracted by your friends. Angelina really was a great flyer, she was dodging almost every bludger George sent her way, and Fred was… sigh.

“Oi! L/N! Want to come play for a bit? We need one more to make it even!” called George.

You shrugged, “Sure! As long as I can be on defense!”

Though you still struggled, your flying skills had made a significant improvement since your fourth year, due to flying lessons from your friends, which were motivated by Fred’s (unfortunately accurate) teasing.

A few minutes later, you were hovering uneasily around the three rings on your team’s side. George, your teammate, was darting around with Fred and Angelina on the other side of the pitch. You zoned out as you watched them. Fred’s shirt was flying up a bit in the wind, a hint of his abdomen on display, and you were trying very hard not to stare. Not that it mattered. From here, he wouldn’t notice if you admired him a bit, would he?

Fred swung his bat, the bludger aimed at George. At the last second, though, his gaze turned toward you, your eyes locked with his, and his bat swung a bit too far.

Suddenly, the bludger was coming your way, far too quickly for you to move.

When it hit your stomach full force, you grunted, but managed to keep your grip on the broom’s wooden handle. Then, you vomited your breakfast onto the field, dozens of yards below you.

----

“I said, I’m fine!” you exclaimed. Fred was the first to swoop onto the grass after you had. You were dry heaving and trying to hold Fred off. The last thing you needed was for him to watch you puke. “I’m not hurt, it just hit me in the stomach.”

“Yeah, I saw that part, didn’t I?” he scoffed, though you could tell he felt a little guilty from the way he was hovering over you.

“Fred!” you groaned, “Please, just give me a minute! I’m perfectly fine.” You groaned as you dry heaved again, your puke reflex fully triggered, “Why do you care anyway?” you asked, under your breath.

“What?”

You held up a finger to him, gesturing for him to wait as you dry heaved again, and then stood up. “I said, why do you care anyway?” You narrowed your eyes, “Were you trying to hit me?”

His guilty expression turned incredulous, “What? Are you barking mad? Of course not!”

You shrugged and crossed your arms, “Well, I saw you look at me while you were swinging and it seemed like you were.”

He blushed, “I was only looking at you because you were trying to distract me! Trying to help George win!”

“For Merlin’s sake, how was I distracting you? I wasn’t even moving!”

His blush deepened, “I don’t know!” he sputtered, his eyes darting over you, “Your shirt is too bright!”

You were furious, and he was getting in your personal space. Your shirt was, in fact, the standard Gryffindor burgundy, and definitely not bright. “My WHAT?” At this point, George and Angelina had landed their brooms as well, and were taking tentative steps your way as you pushed at Fred’s chest, “Fred Weasley, you are the absolute WORST—”

You were suddenly being restrained by two lanky arms—George’s—and dragged away.

“Alright, I think that’s enough of that lover’s quarrel for one day, don’t you, Angelina?” George quipped, guiding you back to the castle, “I’ll take Y/N back to the common room and make sure she’s okay, let’s say we meet in the Great Hall for dinner?”

Angelina nodded, and before you knew it you were being led through the halls of Hogwarts to 6th year Gryffindor boy’s dormitories.

“George, he hates me! I just know it!”

“Quit being so dramatic, woman, he doesn’t hate you. You just have a talent for getting on each other’s nerves.” He sat you on his bed, forcing you down by the shoulders, and went to his trunk.

“He aimed that bludger at me!”

“He definitely did not aim at you, he was probably just…” he trailed off, speaking under his breath.

“Probably just what?”

“I don’t know,” he was rummaging haphazardly through his and Fred’s trunks, “He was probably just distracted!”

You gasped, growing angry at your favorite twin, “You’re taking his side? I should have known—”

He stopped you, “I’m not taking his side,” he held up the purple end of a puking pastille, “Here, take this.”

You swallowed the gummy, and instantly, all of your queasiness vanished. “Thanks,” you muttered.

“I wish you two would just kiss and make up,” said George, who had sat next to you on the mattress, “It’d make things a whole lot easier for Angelina and me.”

Your cheeks flamed, “Like I want that to happen.”

George rolled his eyes, “Come on, Y/N. You can’t lie to me.” He nudged your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows. “I know all.”

Your blush deepened, but you laughed, “For Merlin’s sake, I knew your ego was inflated beyond repair, but I hardly think three OWLs qualifies one as omniscient.”

George and you were near cackling a few minutes later, and you were feeling very glad to have him to cheer you up, when Fred entered.

He stopped in the doorway, staring at the two of you as your laughter faded, his expression stormy, “Sorry to interrupt.” He grabbed something from his trunk, and slammed the door on his way out.

George grimaced, “Doesn’t look like he’ll be too happy with me later,” he said, his eyes locked on the closed door.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused, “Why do you say that?”

George turned back to you, an easy smile replacing the grimace, “No reason, love.” He stood up, “Come on, let’s go to dinner.”

----

In the Great Hall, you sat in between George and Angelina, as usual. Fred was sat on George’s other side. He had barely looked at you as you came in. Rude, you thought, He could have at least apologized.

The conversation between the Gryffindor girls was as it had been all of the other meals recently: gossip about the Yule Ball. Some Ravenclaw girl had been asked by a boy from Durmstrang, Alicia Spinnet informed you. Neither you nor Angelina had been asked yet, though you were hoping you would be soon.

Ideally, of course, you’d be asked by Fred, who would confess that he’d loved you this whole time, and that he wanted nothing more than to dance the night away at a romantic Christmas-themed ball. Of course, currently, you were mad at him. He’d need to apologize first.

You’d be alright with anyone, so long as you didn’t have to go alone. Not that it really mattered. Worst case scenario, you’d strut into the Ball with Angelina, both of you dateless, but looking good enough that all of the boys who’d brought dates abandoned them to dance with you.

You nudged George, “Hey. Are you planning on asking anyone to the Ball?”

He met your eyes and shrugged, barely chewing a hunk of roast before swallowing. “Depends. Are you going with anyone?” He nudged you back and winked.

You were laughing, well aware that he was kidding, when George was shoved into you by Fred, who looked at you very seriously, and then looked at George. There seemed to be some sort of twin telepathy because before you knew it, George was apologizing and Fred was turning away, his shoulders hunched.

You nudged George again, more subtle this time, and whispered, “What was that all about?”

He shrugged and whispered back, “Freddie here is in a sour mood. He hasn’t got a date yet.”

You shot him a look, “Neither do you, George.” Just then, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory strolled into the Great Hall, arm in arm, looking very pleased with each other, rosy blushes dusting both of their cheeks. You sighed and put your chin in your hand as you watched them walk by, “And neither do I.”

You sat for a moment, thinking about George’s joking proposition to you. He and you had no feelings for each other, you were sure. In fact, you were relatively positive that he had a crush on Angelina. You were also pretty sure that these feelings, should they ever be expressed, would be returned. They would make a cute couple.

Anyway, it wouldn’t be so bad to go to the Ball with George. He was one of your best friends, he was funny, he was chivalrous. He would be a good date. Maybe I’ll ask him to go with me, as friends, you thought, if neither of us finds anyone else.

“Excuse me, Miss L/N?”

You turned, and behind you was a handsome Beauxbatons student, in his blue uniform. “Erm, hello. How can I help you?”

His smile grew, and you were vaguely aware that the entire Gryffindor table was watching the exchange. Your heartbeat sped up.

He eyed the table, apparently also noticing the attention on you two, “I was hoping you would like to chat privately for a minute? In the courtyard, maybe?”

Your cheeks grew hot, and Angelina shoved you out of your seat, speaking for you, “Yes, of course! She’d love to!”

You smiled at him, and turned back to your friends. George shot you a thumbs up, and Angelina was grinning. Fred’s mood, however, showed no improvement.

“All right, yeah, I’ll go.” He gestured for you to walk ahead of him, and together, you walked out of the Great Hall.

“Miss L/N,” he addressed you again, holding out a polite hand, “My name is Louis, it is a pleasure to introduce myself formally.”

You took his hand, and instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles. Your face was flaming, “Erm, yeah. I’ve seen you around. You can just call me Y/N.”

He laughed lightly, “Okay then, Y/N,” you were now in the courtyard, and there was a light snow falling. You shivered, and he handed you his cloak, “Please, stay warm. How are you?”

You took the cloak gratefully, “I’m okay, I—

Before you could get another word out, the courtyard was enveloped in a blinding blackness. You panicked a bit, reaching your arms out to feel for something solid to hold on to, and soon found a pair of outstretched arms. Assuming they were Louis’, you grabbed on for dear life, and allowed yourself to be dragged back into Hogwarts.

When you were out of the blackness, you scoffed, watching it disappear behind you, “I’m sorry, Louis. That must have been my friend, George. He probably thought it would be—” You turned, and were surprised to see Fred standing next to you, and not Louis. “—funny,” you finished. “Fred? What are you…” You looked back out to the courtyard, where Louis’ form was beginning to reappear. Then, Fred was tugging you toward the moving staircases.

“Fred!” You shoved his arm off of yours. “What are you doing?”

“Leading you back to the Common Room, obviously,” there was a small smirk on his face, as he grabbed your arm and once again tried to guide you.

You yanked your arm away, “I can find my way back perfectly well on my own, thanks!” He shrugged, and started walking. Despite yourself, you followed. “Why in Merlin’s name did you do that?”

His smirk returned, “Do what?”

“Throw that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder! I was having a nice conversation!”

“Oh that,” he glanced back at you, his smile growing at your infuriated expression, “Louis seemed shady.”

“He seemed WHAT?” You were seething at this point, “Fred, I think he was going to ask me to the Ball,” much to your dismay, your tone came out more disappointed than angry.

At this, Fred’s expression shifted into one of mild annoyance, “Don’t worry, I’m sure someone else will ask you. Louis, though, was up to no good.” Fred looked back to you again, “He probably just wanted to sleep with you.”

You stopped in your tracks, “As if that is the only reason he’d be interested in taking me to the Ball? As if I have nothing else going for me?” Fred had gone too far this time.

He stopped too, and cringed, “That is not what I meant.”

You held your nose up, “Well, that’s what it sounded like.”

It was quiet for a moment. Fred sighed. “Look, I just have a bad feeling about him. He seems like a right wanker, alright?”

Fred’s expression was genuine, but you couldn’t help yourself, “Louis was being perfectly chivalrous.”

Fred held his hands up, accepting defeat, “Alright, fine. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

You sniffled.

He continued, “And I never apologized earlier, for hitting you with the bludger.” He ruffled the back of his hair with his hand, and the gesture was so very awkward, so sincere, that you found yourself forgiving him far faster than you should. “I didn’t mean to. I’m not sure how it happened.”

After a second of contemplation, you punched his muscled shoulder, your resolve thoroughly broken, “I suppose it’s fine. Not your fault you have terrible aim,” you cracked a smile.

He smiled too, laughing under his breath. For a second, it felt like the old days, when you and Fred could laugh freely and tease each other without starting a war. You felt oddly nostalgic, and before you could fully consider your words, you blurted, “What happened to us?”

His smile faded, and you instantly regretted saying something. His eyes filled with an intensity that you hadn’t seen in them in a while, and you were strangely reminded of the hide-and-seek closet from those years ago.

Before he could reply, Angelina and George rounded the corner, George’s arm slung over Angelina’s shoulders. “Oi!” he called, “We wondered where you’d gone off to Fred!” He smiled at you and ruffled your hair when he reached the two of you, “You’ve found our dear Y/N, I see. So, have you got yourself a date to the Yule Ball?”

You glanced to Fred, who looked suddenly guilty. “No, Louis probably just wanted to hook up with me. You know, because of my fantastically proportioned figure and extraordinary facial features.” You smirked Fred’s way, an action not unnoticed by George. Fred rolled his eyes.

Angelina gasped, “What makes you think that?”

You shrugged and smiled, “Intuition. Don’t worry, Ang, he isn’t worth it.”

----

A few days later, you were standing by the fire in the Common Room, talking to Angelina.

“I’m not sure what the team will look like next year without Oliver,” she was saying, “He was really the glue to the team, though he was a bit sexist, calling us ‘lads’ all the time. Do I look like a lad to you?”

You shook your head, agreeing with her. Just then, a pair of bright orange heads wandered through the portrait hole and sat with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The twins appeared to be talking mostly to Ron.

“…And with the year off, too. It’s not going to be good, Y/N. I’ll be captain so I’ll be responsible…”

You tried to listen to your friend as she spoke about quidditch. Fred and George were still talking to Ron. Fred looked relaxed, sure of himself. Confidence, you thought, is a good look on a man. As if they had felt you watching them, all five people sat at the table turned your way. You and Fred made brief eye contact, and he seemed to be thinking something through. Your relationship with him had been improving a little since your interaction in the hall the other day. Though you still didn’t have a date to the Yule Ball, and were starting to wonder if you should seek Louis out for another ‘private chat.’ Maybe he’d ask again if prompted.

Fred seemed to decide something, and then he was shouting, “Oi! Angelina!”

Angelina pulled her gaze from you and her thoughts from quidditch, “What?”

“Want to come to the Ball with me?” called Fred, eyebrows wiggling mischievously. Your heart dropped. Of course he’d want to ask Angelina. She’s beautiful, she’s kind, she’s athletic, she’s smart. Why would he ask you when you’d only just started getting along again a few days ago?

George glanced to Fred then, looking a bit affronted. Angelina shot you an anxious look. You forced the jealous thoughts from your mind, and smiled lightly at her, shrugging. “All right, then,” she said, turning back to you.

“Oi! Y/N!” you turned back to the table, where George had just called your name. At this point, the entire Common Room was watching the exchange. Fred’s attention was on George.

“What is it, George?” you asked, not having to guess too hard at what he was about to say.

He smiled, “Want to come to the Ball with me?” his grin was growing by the second, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but couldn’t help a smile from sliding onto your face, “Sure thing.”

You turned back to Angelina, who looked nervous, probably thinking you’d be mad that she was going with Fred. You smiled at her, “That was weird.”

Her shoulders relaxed, “Sure was. Can’t expect anything different from that pair, though.”

Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell rushed over to you and Angelina, immediately interested in your plans for the Ball.

And you couldn’t blame them. You could tell, this was going to be very interesting.

----

On the day of the Yule Ball, Hogwarts was buzzing.

The castle grounds were perfectly white and snowy and the students were excitable. Even most of the teachers could be seen with a spring in their step, humming a Christmas tune.

You and Angelina were darting around your dormitory, half dressed, hair half up, makeup partially done.

“Y/N, have you seen my shoes?” called Angelina from the other side of the room. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, and then around the room, which looked as though a swarm of pixies had been through it.

“Yeah,” you replied, picking up your wand and flicking it so the elegant high-heels hovered in the air, “Here.”

“Thanks,” she responded, letting out a huff.

Your dress was beautiful: the exact length, texture, and color you had been imagining it would be since you heard Hogwarts was hosting a Yule Ball. And Angelina looked great, too. She was wearing a velvety plum colored dress that perfectly accentuated her athletic frame.

You pinned a few hairs out of your face as she slipped on her shoes.

“Erm, Y/N?”

“What’s wrong?” you asked. Angelina’s pretty face was twisted in an anxious expression.

“Well, nothing is wrong, exactly, but…” she trailed off, looking at you in the mirror you were using to get ready. “Well, I wanted to make sure you’re okay with me going to the Ball with Fred.” She looked nervous, and a bit guilty.

You laughed, a bobby pin stuck between your teeth, “As long as you’re okay that I’m going with George.”

Her expression stilled, her eyes grew wide, “But—I—”

“I know you like him, Ang.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting, “I do not.”

“Could have fooled me,” you retorted.

She frowned, “There’s no reason I would be mad! Why would I be mad? I’m not mad.”

You sent her a smile, “Nor am I mad that you’re going with Fred,” you eyed her through the mirror, “And even though you’re insisting that you don’t like him, I’m pretty sure George likes you.”

Her eyes grew wide, and thoughtful, with this information, “Really?”

You nodded.

There was silence for a few moments.

“They’ve really done a number on us, haven’t they?” she asked you, not completely serious, but there was a certain weight behind her words.

“Yeah, they have,” you agreed, “Maybe we should ditch them and just go together.”

She laughed, “Maybe we should.”

You finished with your hair and turned to face her. “I’m ready to head down, how about you?”

“Me too,” she looked you up and down appreciatively, “Damn, girl! I can’t wait to see Fred’s face when he sees you in that!”

You scoffed, “Yeah right! It’ll be nothing compared to George’s when he sees you!” You took her arm and descended the stairs together.

Fred and George did, indeed, do double takes when they saw you and Angelina.

They had been standing nonchalantly at the bottom of the staircases, dressed in robes that were clearly hand-me-downs, but far nicer than their usual attire nonetheless. George spotted you first, grinning your way before his gaze slid over to Angelina. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened as he watched her walking towards him. You felt smug, you knew they had a thing for each other.

Fred was watching Angelina, too, a small grin on his face. When he glanced at you, his grin fell away and his eyes turned intense again. You wondered if you’d done something to offend him.

In perfect unison, they spoke, “Hello, ladies!”

“Hey, George,” you smiled at your date.

He mock bowed your way, “Merlin’s beard, it’s going to be hard to behave myself tonight,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows, “You look great, darling.” He slipped an elegant arrangement of flowers over your wrist: a corsage.

“Aw, thanks, George. You didn’t have to do this.”

He was grinning, “I promised I’d make tonight worth your while.” Above everything else, you were glad to be going to the Ball with George. He was easy: tonight would be fun and stress-free.

A throat cleared, “Y/N.”

You turned toward the voice, “Hi, Fred.” You observed his outfit—a yellow vest, a slim bowtie—he looked very handsome, “You clean up nicely.”

His expression was still solid. Stormy, almost. “You’re not so bad yourself, fantastically proportioned figure and extraordinary facial features and all.” he smirked, referencing your comment from the other night. His eyes trailed over your body shamelessly—almost as if he were checking you out.

You laughed, but your cheeks were burning, “Thanks.” Next to you, George and Angelina seemed to be having a similar exchange. You smiled at them.

George turned back to you, then, holding out his arm for you to take, “Alright. You ready, Freddie?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, mate.”

The four of you made your way to the Yule Ball in pairs, Fred and Angelina were arm in arm just as you and George were.

The Great Hall was barely recognizable. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in frost, and were sparkling and silver. There were garlands of mistletoe and ivy hung from wall to wall and the trick ceiling displayed a perfectly starry night. There were dozens of small tables arranged neatly around the room, in place of the house tables, each one with a lantern for light. It was breathtaking.

You squeezed George’s arm in excitement, and moved to sit at a table with some other Gryffindors.

When the formal dinner was over, you danced. You danced a lot and without any thought to how other people were perceiving you. As you and George—and Fred and Angelina—made your way through the Hall, the crowds parted, giving you plenty of space as if they thought you might run them over. You were having a lot of fun. As you had predicted, George was an excellent date.

“Need more beverage?” he asked, and you nodded, him and Fred leaving to refill your drinks.

When they came back, George handed you your drink and winked, “This one’s got something special in it.” His eyes were full of their usual mischief, and he must have noted your unsure expression, because he rolled his eyes, “Oh relax, it’s not poisoned! It’s just got a bit of firewhisky in it.”

You grinned, “Alright then,” and downed it.

George whistled, “Careful there, Y/N. We’ve got all night.”

You laughed. Then, The Weird Sisters’ song slowed until it wasn’t something you could dance to in the way you and George had been dancing previously. You set your empty cup down, “Want to dance?”

He smiled at you, a friendly sort of smile, and downed his drink, too. “I’d love to dance. I have the most beautiful date in school.”

You snorted, “Oh please,” but you put your head on his shoulder, and settled your arms around his waist. His arms rested over yours at the small of your back, your torsos pushed together. You swayed with him for a minute without talking. You could feel the firewhisky making its way through your system.

A few feet away, Fred and Angelina were dancing, too. Angelina’s arms were tucked behind Fred’s neck and his were on her waist. They weren’t as cuddled up as you and George were; Fred was saying something to make Angelina laugh.

You were saddened by this sight. You found yourself wishing you were here tonight with Fred instead, and then felt immediately guilty because George had made such an effort to be a gentleman. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?” asked George, his voice concerned and close to your ear with how you were dancing.

“It’s nothing,” you lamented, feeling rather sorry for yourself. “Does Fred like Angelina?”

George was silent.

You let out a humorless chuckle. “I mean, he must. He asked her to be his date tonight.”

George pulled away from you, just enough to look at your face, his expression was, for once, serious, “Well, I asked you to be my date. And no offense, Y/N, but I don’t have feelings for you.”

“Oh.” You frowned, not having considered this information, “I mean, I know you don’t. I don’t have feelings for you, either,” you giggled.

George’s mouth twitched, “In fact, I have feelings for someone else,” he admitted.

Your eyes widened, and your mouth turned upwards, “Really? Well, it just so happens that I also have feelings for someone else.”

He rolled his eyes, “I never would have guessed. You’re so subtle.”

You scoffed, faking offense, “Well, it’s not like you’re slyest in the bunch either, George.”

He eyed something behind you, “What do you say… that we stir the pot a bit?”

“What do you mean?”

He looked back to you, clearly hatching some evil plan, “I mean, what do you say we make them a bit jealous?”

You narrowed your eyes, “I’m listening…”

He grinned, again glancing somewhere behind you, “You see, if I were to dip you,” he tugged you to the side, and let you fall a bit towards the floor, “and snog you, just for a second” he added, noting your distressed expression, “I bet it would get a reaction from anyone who has feelings for you.”

You were confused, “Who has feelings for me?”

His grin remained intact, “Just trust me, love.”

You nodded, trusting him without question as he leaned in and closed the gap between you. When his lips landed on yours, they were firm, and chaste. You felt no spark, no electricity. But, you felt the same feeling of safety that you always felt around George.

When he pulled away, he winked, and helped you back into a standing position.

“Well, that happened,” you remarked, not feeling much of anything.

“It sure did,” he agreed.

“Did your plan work?” you asked.

He looked again to a spot located just over your shoulder, “We’ll just have to wait to find out.”

Curiosity filled you, “What are you looking at?” You moved to turn your head, and follow his gaze, but he stopped you with a hand on your cheek.

“Trust me, Y/N.”

----

A few songs later, you and Angelina were sitting at an empty table. Fred and George had gone to talk to Ludo Bagman, for some reason, leaving you here.

As you sat, you looked around the room. Harry and Ron seemed rather lonely, sitting by themselves, Padma and Parvati nowhere to be found. Ron’s robes were very traditional, frilly, and a bit gross looking, and you felt a twinge of pity for him. Harry, on the other hand, looked quite nice in expensive-looking emerald robes.

You pointed them out to Angelina, “Don’t they look just miserable?”

She nodded, “Poor Harry. Ron’s in a horrible mood tonight.”

“Why is that?”

She looked back to you, “Did you see Hermione Granger?”

You shook your head.

“Well, Alicia was telling me that she overheard her and Ron talking the other night. Ron wondered who Hermione was taking to the Ball, but she wouldn’t tell him. Turns out she’s here with Krum. And she looks absolutely stunning. Almost rivals the Delacour girl.”

You frowned, “Well, why’s that got Ron in a bad mood?”

Angelina raised her eyebrows at you, “You really are clueless, aren’t you? Ron definitely likes her.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them interacting, it’s pretty obvious most of the time. Too much sexual tension for there to be no feelings.”

You giggled, “Well, I can’t be completely clueless. I noticed George liking you.”

She frowned, “Speaking of George. Did I see you guys kissing?”

You blushed, “Oh. Right. Please don’t be mad!” you gave her a very apologetic expression, “He said it was to ‘stir the pot.’ Whatever that means. Apparently, there’s someone here that he thought would get jealous.”

“Why would I be mad?” Angelina’s perfectly sculpted brows were furrowed, and then raised in surprise as she processed your words, “Y/N! I think—”

Across the room, Fred and George were no longer talking to Bagman. Instead, they were talking to each other, and apparently arguing about something. Before you could point it out to Angelina, they were headed your way.

Fred stopped right in front of you, “Hello, Y/N. Care for a chat?”

You glanced to Angelina, who’s wide eyes were glancing frantically back and forth between you and Fred. “Too much sexual tension for there to be no feelings,” she muttered, apparently to herself.

You blushed, hoping Fred hadn’t heard that. He must not have, because he was still looking at you, “Uh, sure.”

Fred gestured for you to follow him as he made his way outside, to where rosebushes had been conjured and filled with tiny, living fairies, who glowed in the chilly nighttime air. A statue of Father Christmas and his reindeer were elegantly placed in the middle of the makeshift enclosure.

Fred stopped and faced you. “I saw you kiss George.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose, “Yeah. So?” You shivered once, not having a coat or a sweater of any kind, and Fred noticed. He took off his own and draped it over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you muttered. This felt somehow similar to when Louis had tried to ask you to the Ball a few weeks ago.

“So, why did you kiss him?”

You met Fred’s eyes, very confused. “What do you mean? He’s my date, I’m allowed to kiss my date, aren’t I?”

“Well, I’d rather you not.”

Your expression shifted into one of incredulity, “Fred are you actually serious? Did you bring me out here for another lecture on which boys you think want to use me for sex? Because I’m pretty sure George has no interest in—”

He frowned, exasperated, “No! No. I just—Why George? Why is it… always George?” He was staring at you quite intently, and you were again reminded of a different time. Fourth year, broom cupboard, hide and seek.

You took a step back from him, clueless, “What do you mean ‘Why is it always George?’ Like I said, George is my date.” You felt like there was something you should be figuring out right about now. This was too weird.

“But, you didn’t want to kiss him…” he said slowly.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, it’s not like he forced me.”

Fred frowned, clearly this is not what he had wanted you to say, “No, I mean, you didn’t really want to kiss him.”

You paused, crossing your arms, “No. I guess I didn’t really want to kiss him.”

“But you did anyway… because he was your date.”

“Yes. Because he was my date.” You avoided mentioning the other, more embarrassing reasons for the kiss.

“But why?” he asked, still staring at you very intently, still dressed very nicely.

You were silent for a moment, wondering where he was headed with this, “Why what?”

Fred frowned, also in thought, “Why didn’t you want to kiss him?”

You rolled your eyes, “Because I don’t like him like that, you dolt. We’re just friends.”

“It always seemed as though you like George. I mean, what’s not to like? I know he’s not as good looking as I am, but still.” Fred seemed to think this comment was pretty funny, because he smirked to himself.

You pressed your face into your hands and groaned.

“So why?” he repeated. You shot him a scathing look. “Why don’t you like him like that, I mean,” he corrected.

Your eyes lingered on his brown ones. He seemed earnest, there was no hint that he was about to make fun of you. “I… I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He scoffed, “I think it’s entirely my business.”

You turned toward him again, cheeks hot, “And why would you think that, you entitled prick?”

His eyes met yours, and then he glanced up. The sky was inky and filled with scatterings of stars and a bright full moon, just like the trick ceiling inside the Great Hall. Combined with the elegant enclosure, it would have been dreadfully romantic—if you were with anyone else.

When Fred’s gaze found yours again, there was something softer to it: he was vulnerable, “You know why, Y/N.”

Your stomach dropped and your eyes fell to the grass. There was no way he knew. You were careful, you were—

“Y/N,” he repeated.

“I—I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain yourself,” you settled in, ready to defend yourself.

“Because I’m in love with you,” your gaze shot up at this, eyes wide, “and I think I deserve to know who my competition is.” Fred’s eyebrows were furrowed and his expression was honest. He was steeled, prepared to take this blow, prepared to know, finally, that you didn’t love him back.

You turned from him, despite every cell in your body telling you to do the opposite. You were on fire. “But…” you sputtered, “you hate me!”

He laughed, “I will admit that I acted to intentionally make my feelings for you less obvious.” He paused, “But honestly, woman, you didn’t know?”

You spun towards him again, now several feet away, in utter disbelief at how idiotic the pair of you had been acting: being mean to each other to throw the other off your scent. “Of course I didn’t know!”

Fred took in your distressed expression and took a few strides towards you, grabbing your forearms in an attempt to calm you. His hands were warm, you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. It was cold outside, damnit. And he must have been wearing some sort of potion for cologne, because your head was light with this sudden close proximity.

You slammed your palms against his chest in a weak attempt to display your anger, failing when you noticed his muscles tense under your fingers. You let Fred pull you into a hug. You were enveloped in him for the first time in a long time, and you couldn’t help but notice how well you fit together.

After a few moments, you heard his voice, “So, who is it?” His voice was in your ear as George’s had been during your slow dance, but with Fred’s words, a shiver went down your spine.

You tilted your head, chin resting on his chest as he looked down at you. His dark eyes were still hardened in preparation of your confession. And though you felt bad for him in the moment, thinking that you were about to tell him about your feelings for someone else, you couldn’t help but smile and tuck your face back into his chest. Fred loved you back. You could hear his heart beating at a speed you were positive was much quicker than it should be.

“Who is it, love? I promise, you won’t hurt my feelings, if that’s what you’re worried about. We can stay friends, I won’t be upset.” You could tell he was trying to be gentle. He didn’t want to hurt you while you told him who you loved instead.

You groaned, and spoke into his shirt, “It’s you, you absolute tosser.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you, darling.” You could hear the overjoyed smile in his voice, and you knew, he had most definitely heard you. He was being cheeky, already.

You pulled your face back from him again, and met his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you got any words out, he was leaning down and kissing you.

And it was a little awkward at first, with both of you being so excited, you fumbled for a bit. But after a moment or two, your noses stopped bumping and you wound your hands in his hair and kissed him back as passionately as you could. His arms pulled tighter around you, and one hand reached down to squeeze your butt.

You pulled away, swatting at him. “Hey!” But, both of you were breathless and smiling and you leaned in again. The night was cold but you might have been in a sauna for all you knew. Your blood was racing through your veins. You’d wanted this for years.

Kissing Fred was nothing like your kiss with George had been. Fred’s lips on yours made all of the disgustingly cheesy things you read about in romance novels happen: your heart was racing, your head was light, your stomach was filled with butterflies.

When you finally pulled away, both you and Fred were gasping for breath, the cold, winter air drawing into your lungs again and again.

You cleared your throat, “I said…” you gave Fred a pointed look, “It’s you, you absolute tosser.”

He laughed under his breath, “Yeah, I gathered, love.” He moved in to peck your lips again.

As you walked back to the Great Hall, his arm around your shoulders, you grinned at him, “So, me and my fantastically proportioned figure and extraordinary facial features, huh?”

Fred rolled his eyes.

----

A/N 2: I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments 🥺💕⚡️🧡

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mercurryblack · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6: Rudyard

Day six: the investigation fruitlessly continues.

❃❃❃

“Any luck today?” Yuen asked.

After six fruitless days of combing over Berilo’s house and garden, LLAC had once again returned to the usual meeting place. By that time, Yuen, Rudyard and Sardion were already waiting for them, and the sun was inching down past the horizon.

Lillian shook her head in disappointment. “Nothing. We searched the house from roof to basement as usual, but we didn’t find anything that wasn’t already marked or mentioned in the initial report.” She informed them.

“Yeah, same here.” Cait added. Under their breath, they grumbled; “This is so not cool at all.”

The search of the garden on the first day had been under pleasant weather, but that was the only upside that they recalled— most of that day had just consisted of crawling around underneath the plants and staring at every inch of grass and dirt for footprints. Consistently, the highlight of each passing day seemed to be their short lunch break.

Sardion sighed. “We’re in the same boat, then. Nothing turned up for us, either— I guess we’ve hit a dead end.” Yaara’s house, in comparison had been spick and span, just like how she organized it. Like Berilo’s, a blood spatter marked the area where she had died, but the house was in better shape than his— the door was still on its hinges, with no sign of lockpicking.

“So, what are we going to do next, Detective?” inquired Rudyard. Despite his annoyance at the lack of any new leads, he managed to keep his tone calm.

Yuen raised a hand to her temple, exhaling heavily. “For now, we should head back to my office. I’m sure the lot of you are hungry, I have some food stashed there. We can talk over a nice meal.” she answered.

Sardion raised an eyebrow. “You keep food in your office, too?”

“Ah, just some Dr. Piper and a few packs of Simple Wok instant noodles,” Yuen replied. “…Er, lots of Simple Wok instant noodles, to be honest.”

***

Yuen prepared some water for the instant noodles on a hot plate, as the group sat huddled in the small space.

“Sorry that this is all I have. Whenever us detectives need to stay for the night, cup ramen and soda become our nectar and ambrosia.” She said, sounding a bit embarrassed.

Rudyard laughed, giving Sardion a gentle nudge in the arm. “It’s alright, detective. Truth be told, it makes me remember when I was back in the academy. Sardion, Berilo and I used to sneak boxes of these from the cafeteria to our rooms every once in a while, so that we could have late-night snacks every time we needed to stay up to finish our written assignments.”

“Oh gods, yeah, I remember that.” Sardion said. “And you remember that time Yaara yelled at all of us because we pulled an all-nighter and made the entire room smell like broth? She said if we had just eaten enough at dinnertime like ‘normal people’, we wouldn’t be hungry and therefore wouldn’t stink up the dorm. She was right, of course, but that never stopped us from doing it again and again.” He started laughing along with Rudyard.

“Man, we should try that out, Hattie.” Cait suggested. “Knowing ol’ Branwen, there’s no way that he’ll let me off of that paper just for this assignment, so we might as well have something to eat.”

“Yeah!” Hattie agreed. “We can eat whenever we want!”

Sardion adopted a comically authoritative demeanor. “Hey, hey, bad idea. Don’t do it. And if you ignore me and get caught, don’t tell Lionheart we did it too at our time there. But, if you pull it off and don’t get caught, then you gotta tell us how you did it.”

Rudyard shook his head, grinning. “Man, we must’ve done it ‘til the day we graduated. That grouchy old lady who worked there would always wonder why some of their food was lost, but we never got the blame for it.” He clicked his fingers “Say, you remember the time Hidalgo and Gin found her stash of chocolate pudding and took as much as they could carry?”

“The Great Pudding Robbery of ‘56. How could I ever forget—?”

This time, it was Lillian’s turn to interject. “Wait, Hidalgo? As in Hidalgo Ferrante?”

Sardion turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, he was one of our pals in the academy. You know him?”

“Sort of.” Lillian replied. “I mean, I’m dating his daughter right now.” She explained, her cheeks reddening slightly.

“Wait, no kidding?” Sardion’s eyes widened. Turning to Rudyard, he mouthed ’did you know?’

“Yeah, her name’s Rosario.” Rudyard continued. “Talks about her all the time. Showed me a picture of her once, too— she’s definitely her old man’s daughter, has his eyes.”

As he spoke, Yuen sat down with them, placing the pot of now-boiling water in the middle and gesturing to the box of cup ramen. “Okay, grab whatever flavor of noodles you want. And before we continue with the nostalgia and all that, we should first discuss what we want to do next.”

“But… we still haven’t really found anything. How are we supposed to know our next move?” Amaryllis asked.

“Well, it’s not like we can just sit here until something else happens.” answered Yuen.

“Actually, they could stand to do so.” Sardion suggested, indicating LLAC with a nod of his head. “Not for long, but just half a day should suffice. We need to have clear heads, and that goes double for you, Detective— you’ve been pulling all-nighters trying to connect the dots on that corkboard. We all deserve a moment’s rest before we try facing the problem head-on.” he suggested.

Rudyard pensively nodded. “Sardion and I can carry our own independent investigations during then. We’ll try and reconvene with you in the evening, Detective, and LLAC can join us the next morning. The last couple of days have been a whirlwind, and while I’ve no intention of stopping my search for the killer, I don’t want us to burn out— or you guys, for that matter.”

After a moment’s pause, Yuen nodded in agreement. “Alright, team, you kids get tomorrow off starting at noon, and you two get the morning to make your own inroads. But when we all get back, we immediately pick up from where we left off, agreed?” She remarked.

“Agreed!” LLAC responded in unison.

***

“You know, despite all the preservatives, this stuff isn’t half bad.” Lillian said, shoveling a hunk of chicken-flavored noodles into her mouth. “I can see why people would get addicted to it.”

Yuen laughed. “What, don’t tell me you never ate this growing up? Not even once?”

Amaryllis shook her head as she followed her sister’s example, holding up a cup of beef-flavored noodles. “Aunt Izzy was always pretty strict about what we ate. Sure, we had breakfast cereal and juice and the occasional sweets, but that was pretty much it. Said that we had to follow a good diet, and that taste was one of the first things Huntresses sacrificed in the field.” She slurped some of the broth. “Hope I never have to find out what she meant by that.”

“Mmmllpphh... uhh knww whuhh duhs’ lhhk,” Cait said through a mouthful of noodles. “Than’th fuhh th’ muhhll.”

Yuen nodded. “No problem, kid. Eat up, you need it.”

“RRURRRRRP!” Their conversation was interrupted by a loud burp from Hattie. “Ah, ‘scuse me.” She said sheepishly

“Hah! I’ll have whatever she’s having!” Sardion laughed, countering her with a slightly louder belch of his own.

He barely even finished before the petite girl grinningly returned the favor with an even louder eructation.

“Are you… perhaps challenging me, Miss Lazuli?” Sardion inquired, his face turning comically stony as he repressed the urge to snicker.

Hattie smirked, holding up an unopened soda can. “Mayb—b—buUUUURRRRUUUPPPP!”

“Oh, for the love of…” Lillian groaned at the childish antics of the two. “Okay, saying it right now; I’m not being the judge this time.”

***

“Okay, you two, you know the rules. Whoever burps the longest wins, brownie points for whoever starts the loudest,” Amaryllis recited, holding up the timer on her Scroll, her finger raised just above the screen. “Ready.”

Sardion and Hattie each snapped open a can of soda, looking each other dead in the eye as they did so.

“I must let you know, Miss Lazuli, that I was the burp-off champion of Haven Academy in my time.” boasted Sardion.

“That was a long time ago, old dude. Now, it’s my time to shine.” Hattie shot back.

“Set.”

Both of them raised the metal edges of the cans to their lips, still maintaining their locked gaze.

“Last chance to back out, kiddo.” Sardion said, in a taunting voice.

Hattie didn’t reply, but narrowed her eyes and gave Sardion a thumbs-down.

“Go, Sardion.” Rudyard cheered halfheartedly yet amusedly, who sat on the couch watching the game.

“Get him, Hattie!” Cait crowed.

“Begin!”

Glup, glup, glup, glup. Both Hattie and Sardion began swigging down their cans in one long draught, their eyes beginning to water against the drink’s stinging carbonation. Within the span of a few seconds, they had poured every last drop down their throats, only for their cheeks to pouch as the carbon dioxide came rushing back up their gullets.

“Aaaaaaand… go!”

(For the reader’s own sake, this ridiculous match has been abridged by the author, who apologizes for this shameless, childish, and blatantly filler chapter. If you wish for a much funnier burping match, please follow this link.)

“And… time!” Amaryllis turned off her Scroll’s timer as Hattie and Sardion’s burps died down at the same time. “Geez! Thirteen seconds, not bad.” She remarked, swiping on her CCCT browser. “Says here that the world record’s over forty, apparently.”

“Which one had that time?” Hattie asked, wiping her chin with the crook of her elbow.

“Both of you, actually. Tie.” Amaryllis said, lifting her gaze.

Without missing a beat, Hattie grabbed another can of Dr. Piper and thrust it at Sardion. “AGAIN!”

***

While they continued with their childish contest, Cait, Lillian, and Rudyard were busy talking about some of their older missions. Cait found the pair’s recollection of the Kumoyuri assignment far more interesting than the day’s work, and found the part where Lillian had gotten dunked in mud wildly funny.

Personally, they didn’t find their extracurricular Grimm-hunting work to be as interesting, but Rudyard still politely listened nonetheless. Lillian, having been there along with Cait, only half-listened to them as she poured water into another cup of noodles.

“Oh, man. So there we were, looking right in the eye the largest Boarbatusk I’ve ever seen in my whole life. It huffed, and it puffed, it almost blew us away, but we still weren’t scared!” Cait exclaimed, gesturing with their hands to the best of their ability. “Thing is, it was pretty simple once we got down its attack pattern. Charge, turn around, charge, turn around, snort, repeat. Fourth pass around, Hattie managed to chop off its tusks with Whirligig… uh, her saw-gun thingamabob.” They continued, snapping their fingers as they tried to recall the exact name.

“Whirling Dervish.” Lillian said.

“Yeah, that, thanks Lilly.” Cait said, nodding. “Well, as I was saying, she cut off its tusks and got its face pretty good, and I shouted, ‘Guess you’re just a “Boarba” now!’” They sniggered for a moment at their own joke. “You wanna know why I called it that?”

Rudyard chuckled, bracing for the terrible pun he knew was incoming. “No, I have no earthly idea. Why?”

“Because it lost its tusks. Gettit? Boarba? No ‘tusk’? Cut its tusks off?” Cait grinned, acting as if the wordplay had been anything resembling clever.

“Oooof.” Rudyard groaned, shaking his head despite the grin on his own face. “Bad one.”

“I know, right? I should get an award for my combat banter. S’not as easy as everyone thinks it is.”

“Ignore them.” Lillian said, rolling her eyes.

Rudyard leaned back, taking a helping of his own noodles. Despite his inner tension, the pain he still had in his heart, he felt relaxed and eased by LLAC’s company. It felt nice for all of them to gather like one big family, even facing the stark reality of the next day to come. It would take far more than one good night to heal, but watching his protégé and her team… it filled him with determination.

It gave him strength and determination, seeing the new generation take the reins the old had once held. More importantly, it gave him hope.

#team llac #team llac fic #agave yuen #team sybr #sardion sarikaya #rudyard millard #lillian armilde #cait miya #harriet lazuli #amaryllis armilde #fanfic #fan fiction #rwby fan fiction #rwby oc #rwbyoc #rwby

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mimiwrites2000 · 4 years ago

Text

Legends

Chapter Six ~

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie/ Eren x Mikasa (other pairings will be added as the story goes on)

this chapter contains some Armin x Mikasa platonic fluff

Words count: 3123

* spoilers for chapter 127 and up

Summary:

an injury

a miracle

an understanding

and maybe 'everything happens for a reason' holds some truth in it, and all of it leads to that tingle of emotions with unsolvable maze that hypnotize its victims

~a story of broken hearts who are searching for a cure while mending each other’s wounds

They got to the island, and as sneaky as possible, they found a cottage somewhere in a remote area in the mountains. They decided that they would remain there until Eren wakes up and explains everything to them.

It wasn’t a big cottage, nor was it claustrophobic-small, it had two bedrooms, one of them was basically the attic -with a squeaky, barely-holding-itself staircase leading up to it- one living room, and a kitchen. They all had to share one cramped bathroom.

The construction wasn’t pathetically old, but it had been abandoned for some time, the lonely couch in the living room would dip deeper than a normal one when someone sat on it, the kitchen’s rusty cabinets doors were better detached, their squeaking would wake up the whole forest in an instant.

Mikasa would sit by the bed where Eren was resting, still unconscious, while everyone was somewhere in the cottage, trying to make the place as hospitable as they could with minimal supplies and zero mental power.

Well, since captain Levi was staying with them; everyone had to work hard to get this place to his cleaning standards.

However, Armin would forget all his troubles when he saw Annie around her father, well, she was always around him, but when he’d kiss her forehead or when she’d hug him, Armin would feel lighter, and a smile would pull at his lips.

Armin never saw Annie this carefree ever before, in fact, nor did anyone else, not even Reiner, for he himself wouldn’t bother to hide his astonished face when he’d catch Annie’s affection towards her father.

It was a tiny liberal vent to have at least someone genuinely happy and relieved, it absorbed some of the negativity in the air that was straining their minds into a choppy, dry sponge.

It was their third day at the cottage, while they were having dinner, that Annie addressed them for the first time in a while when she said: “I just realized that I’ve never introduced any of you to my father properly.”

The clattering of the utensils stopped, and no one said anything, and it’s not like they had any idea how to begin.

Hanji let out a light laugh, put down the crooked spoon they had in their hands, and said: “Well, my name is Hanji Zoe and I’m the 14th commander of the scouts, I mean, if the system is still running that is,” they cleared their throat, “nice to meet you, Mr. Leonhart.”

Mr. Leonhart nodded his head, and a small smile grazed his lips.

“We’re not very much fun to be around, so I hope we could get you as comfortable as we could, so, uh, welcome to the island.” Hanji continued, before holding their spoon again and resuming eating their meal.

Hanji’s introduction encouraged everyone to start talking, each of them introducing themselves, and the atmosphere morphed into one of a friendly dinner, it was the first time they spoke like they used to since they got to the island.

Scanning the room with her eyes, Annie realized that Armin was nowhere to be seen, she wondered where he was, and why would he miss dinner, well, it’s not like it was a fancy meal, but Hanji’s stew with some bread is extravagant juxtaposed to an empty stomach.

“Where’s Armin?” Annie asked Gabi, who was sitting beside her.

“I think he went outside, saying he needed fresh air.” She answered, her voice overthrown by the heated yet friendly discussion that erupted between Hanji and Pieck, before munching on a piece of bread.

“Is that so…” Annie fiddled with her fingers before she got up, wrapped some bread with a cloth, her father looked at her questionably, so she whispered in his ear: “I’ll be right back.” He nodded, and she left.

Annie searched around the cottage for Armin, but he was nowhere to be seen, so, she sat off through the forest, looking for him.

Annie didn’t take long to spot him; they had found a stream nearby, so she decided to search there first, also, the screams Armin was shouting didn’t make him quite hard to find.

Annie lurked around the trees, peaking through branches and taking wavering and inaudible steps, then she hid behind a bush, observing and not moving a muscle, she couldn’t see Armin’s face; his back was to her.

Armin screamed on and on, stretching his arms upwards, his lungs felt like they ignited and were on fire, but he still screamed, his vocal cords could tear, but he didn’t care about it. His cries the only other voice beside the stream and the crickets of night insects.

Armin needed to let out some of the stress that was weighing him down, and it’s not like he’s composed like others and could handle everything with a stoic face, he had to let it out somehow.

His mind railed over the people he left dinning in that cottage, he could no longer look at Mikasa and smile knowing that their childhood friend had almost destroyed the world and now was shut-eye in a bedroom unconscious for the past three days.

Armin could no longer look at any of them, nevertheless, think with a straight mind, he was clueless as to what happened and to what was to come.

He had to let it out.

When his voice faded, and it was painful to swallow, he collapsed on the dirt, dipping his toes in the cold, running water, closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and waited for his cords to heal to go for another round.

“Are you done yet?” A voice he knew too well said from behind.

The corners of Armin’s lips twitched, he splashed water; shivering from the cold: “I was planning on screaming some more, wanna join me, Mikasa?” his voice hoarse, cracking as steam erupted from his mouth.

“My throat would bleed, and I can’t heal it as fast as you could.”

Mikasa walked to Armin, and squatted next to him, they sat in silence, none of them speaking for a while.

Then Mikasa wrapped her arm around Armin’s shoulder, and he leaned into her embrace, Mikasa rubbed circles on his back and sighed, they both were lost, and nothing could ever fix what they’ve been through…

“This brings back memories,” Armin said, his eyes following a tiny golden fish swimming against the flow, he felt Mikasa nodding next to him.

“Maybe we could get those old days back.” Mikasa pondered.

“Yeah,” Armin absent mindedly agreed with her, then he flipped what she said in his head, over and over, and then blurted out: “yeah, yeah,” his voice gained confidence with every passing second, “Mikasa, why not?” He pulled away to look into her eyes; they held bewilderment, and that made the tip of Armin’s lips lift upwards.

“Why not?” Armin continued, “we can do whatever we want when all of this is over, we sure as hell deserve it, don’t we?”

“Y-yeah.” Mikasa stuttered, not sure from where this sudden enthusiasm came from.

Armin shifted his position, and was on his knees in front of Mikasa, he clamped her hands in his. Without breaking eye contact, he went on: “There are many places, that we could explore, or we could stay warm in some cozy, lovely house,” Armin shifted closer to her, “we deserve our own happy ending, don’t we?”

Mikasa’s lips parted in astonishment, she couldn’t pinpoint the line between desperation and resolve in Armin’s voice; however, she squeezed his hands and pulled on half a smile, a smile that meant this happy ending would only happen in another life, but certainly not this.

Armin’s eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pouted, he was resolute to make Mikasa feel better. So, he stood up, held out his hand to her, Mikasa took it, and without any introductions, Armin put his right hand on her waist, while the other hand held hers up toward the skies.

Mikasa promptly landed a hand on his shoulder, while the other gently laid upon his, “Armin, what exactly are you doing?” she asked him.

Armin didn’t answer; instead, he hummed some tune under his breath and started moving his hips.

Mikasa, having no idea what was going on, followed Armin with hesitant movements, then, his crooning turned into a silly jazzy combination of ‘dun dun’ and ‘tara tara,’ his voice getting louder and louder and his movements more imbecile and funnier.

Mikasa held in her laughter, biting her lower lip; Armin being silly isn’t a sight anyone would see occasionally, and when he did an exaggeratedly dramatic twirl, she couldn’t hold it in any longer; she let out a loud, chirping laugh.

Armin chuckled in return, and he felt a weight left off his chest, I didn’t get a chance to apologize to her after all, and he twirled Mikasa around, her skirt flowing around her, and uh God she’s so beautiful, she didn’t deserve any of the horrific stuff that she went through.

Mikasa twirled once again, and when she faced Armin, she noticed that his smile wasn’t as wide as it was a moment before, she looked at him in confusion before he stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her.

Mikasa didn’t expect that, but she hugged him back, resting her head on his shoulder. Armin swayed with Mikasa, resuming his humming, though the tune is supposed to be cheerful, his voice cracked, and the song sounded ominous and dreary.

Armin tangled his fingers in Mikasa’s short hair, ruffling it a bit, and he sensed Mikasa wrapping her arms tighter around him.

Mikasa heard Armin humming actual words, they were incoherent, and she had to focus on decoding them, but once she did, she couldn’t overlook them: “I’m sorry, oh I’m so sorry…”

Armin’s apologies stabbed into Mikasa’s heart, swift and unnoticeable, leaving her with tight lungs and trembling limbs. Her breath hitched in her throat, and soon, tears were spilling uncontrollably from her eyes, Armin shuddered, and she heard his own labored breathing.

Soon, the tunes drifted with the wind, and the pair fell to the ground, their grip only tighter around each other, as they cried their grief out, their own sobs cutting through the air, and the ambient nature only seemed to quiet down and listen to their mourning.

Annie watched from behind the bush, not making a sound, and when she saw both of them crumble to the ground, she decided it was her cue to get back to the cottage.

However, Annie couldn’t step inside; instead, she walked to a mountain of log beside the cottage and leaned against it, looking at her feet, moving the dirt beneath her shoes, then she looked up to the sky, the full moon peaked at her between the clouds…

The blue light immersed Annie’s surroundings, how the stars shone so bright but yet dull with the moon taking the spotlight, no one would look for the stars when the moon is out, she thought, right?

Annie heard footsteps approaching her, she tilted her head down and saw Armin, hand in hand with Mikasa, were approaching the cottage.

How long have I been out here?

Annie wanted to run into the cottage, but something screwed her legs in her spot, and she couldn’t move a muscle; instead, she waited until they noticed her presence.

Armin and Mikasa stood in front of Annie, Mikasa nodded, acknowledging Annie’s presence, and Annie nodded in return. At the same time, Armin was more verbal and said: “Oh, hey Annie, what are you doing outside?”

“Could ask you the same question,” Annie answered, crossing her arms.

Armin smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Mikasa glanced between the two, then she let go of Armin’s hand and told them that she’s heading inside.

Armin and Annie stood there, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not knowing what to say, then he noticed a cloth tied in a knot by Annie’s foot, something wrapped in it, he asked: “Were you planning to go somewhere?”

“No,” Annie answered, not realizing that Armin was referring to the bread she packed for him.

“Well then, may I ask what you have in that?” Armin inquired, pointing to the sack.

Annie looked down to it, and she immediately said: “There is some bread in there, thought I’d eat some out here, but I’m not hungry anymore,” she kneeled down and picked it up, producing a piece of freshly baked bread, though it turned cold, “you wanna have some?” Annie offered it to Armin.

Armin couldn’t hide his hunger, as his stomach growled. He took the bread gladly from Annie’s hand, taking a bite; it wasn’t the best bread he ever had, but considering that they were in a remote cottage in the mountains, this was the best they could ask for.

At least the airplane was packed with portions, and they were glad for that.

Annie made space for Armin to lean against the log beside her, she admired her surroundings while he munched on the bread.

“Armin, I think you deserve happiness,” Annie said out of the blue, her eyes scanning the sky.

Armin stopped chewing and turned his head towards Annie, not sure if he heard her or was just imagining it, but there was no one outside but them…

Armin swallowed, then said: “Uh, well thanks,” he looked up to where Annie was looking, “I think you deserve happiness too.”

Annie blinked; she didn’t say anything.

“You’re finally reunited with your father, now you can live the rest of your life by his side, right? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Annie?” Armin said, imitating Annie and crossing his arms.

“I guess you’re right…” Annie agreed with him, eyes still aimed at the sky. She caressed the ring around her finger, turning it…

Silence draped over them, both watching the dark blanket upon them with jewelry scattered on it, but that one big diamond stealing all the glory to itself.

A ting of guilt nagged at her, she was so lost in the happiness bubble that she forgot about the bigger picture, where everyone was conflicted, barely slept, and had a ticking bomb in their hands with nothing they could do about it.

She glanced at Armin, he was watching the sky, just like her, and she wondered what kind of matters were swarming inside his head, an urge itched at her hand to reach out into his skull and pull out all the tangled thoughts fizzing inside it, and blow them away into the night, to get them lost forever.

Annie looked down at her hand, she unconsciously took off her ring, its shining rim between her thumb and finger, glistening, hiding the catastrophes it’s capable of.

Armin felt a hand close around his own, he looked down, and saw Annie securing his fingers around something small and warm, before she retreated and looked into his eyes. He shot her a confused look, he brought his fist closer to his face, and when he opened it, his lips parted in shock.

A circle of metal rested on his palm, still warm from Annie’s fingers.

“Isn’t this… your ring?” He asked her the obvious as he inspected it.

“It is, and…” Annie swallowed, “it got me to where I am, I guess, you… might need it,” no he wouldn’t, he got his own ring, you dumbass-

Annie imagined her jaw dropping to the ground when Armin silently slid her ring on his finger, he stretched his hand and observed it for a second, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out something.

He stretched his hand towards her right hand, his eyes locking with her, and when she didn’t’ back away, he held her hand, and slid something cold around her finger.

Annie looked down and-

A ring, almost identical to hers, wrapped around her finger, where her ring used to be.

“Then, I want you to take mine,” Armin said, his voice low.

a cold waft ruffled Annie’s hair, golden leaves swirling around them, and Annie heard her heart’s beats in her ears.

She wanted to reject the ring, it wasn’t about him, he shouldn’t give her something in return, something to keep her hanging on false hope and fantasies that only happened in fairy tales-

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat.

Armin and Annie startled and whipped their heads toward the source.

It was Mr. Leonhart.

Armin immediately stood erect, his fingers crushing the bread in his hold, his thoughts rampaged into his skull, and sudden nervousness rushed down his spine. For a moment, he thought he should probably salute him or something, luckily, Annie broke his perplexing thoughts:

“Oh, father, are you done eating?” Annie asked, not budging.

“Oh, yes, Hanji’s cooking is… unique, indeed.” Mr. Leonhart answered, then his eyes landed on Armin, “oh, Annie, you never introduced me to this young man, am I wrong?” Mr. Leonhart inquired, stepping closer to the pair.

“You’re not, his name is Armin Arlert, the Brainiac.” Annie casually acknowledged Armin.

“U-uh, yes! That’s my name! I mean my name is Arlert, Armin Arlert,” Armin stuttered, suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his arms, so he stretched one out and said, his words overlapping: “it’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Leonhart!”

Mr. Leonhart took Armin’s hand in his, shook it twice, then, instead of letting it go, he placed his other hand over it, clasping Armin’s fingers in a warm, calloused grip, “oh, I must’ve heard about you from Reiner, the guy with wits no one compared to.” He probably was informed about how the survey corps exposed the Female Titan, but he didn’t elaborate on the topic.

Armin’s cheeks heated up, but Mr. Leonhart clamping hands grounded him, and he looked into the man’s eyes, and, even though he’s not Annie’s biological father, Armin still got the same aura from them.

“Well, Arlert, it’s a pleasure meeting you,” Mr. Leonhart let go of Armin’s hand, “I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your surname, but your first name sounds like a name your grandfather would choose.”

Armin chuckled, a smile remained on his face, “You’re exactly right.” Armin looked at Annie, his eyebrows rose a little when he saw her tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to hide a blush dusting her cheeks.

The door of the cottage slammed open, and a disturbed figure came rushing out, looking towards the darkness of the forest.

“Armin! Are you here?!” Shrieked a panicked Connie, making all of them jump.

“Connie!” Armin shouted, waving his arm to get Connie’s attention, “what happen-”

“Eren’s awake.”

~~~

I either have a very short chapter or a very long ass one, no in-between I hope you're enjoying this story!! Armin and Mikasa's scene made me cry while writing it... yeah I get emotional over my babies...

I want to thank @madninive for being soooo supportive and just an amazing human being, she helped me out so much with this chapter, so thank you for existing and putting up with me

#Aruani #armin arlert #Annie Leonhardt #eremika #eren x mikasa #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #armin x mikasa #arumika

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