#traveled around the world before getting roped into saving his brother’s ass | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilguna · 4 years ago

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Lacuna - Chapters 13-16 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 10.3k

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

–

-- CHAPTER THIRTEEN --

If this is what it’s like to be dead, then you don’t want to be dead anymore.

First off, it’s cold as all hell in here. It’s like when you were younger and your brothers would throw you into the frigid ass water for fun in the winter. Of course, you could swim back then. Like every other person in district four, you had learned to swim at the sprightly age of four, probably younger. You start young when it comes to knots, fishing and swimming.

By the time you’re seven or eight you’re basically blending in with the water. Most kids by then can swim like they never left the water, they’re fish themselves. You used to race the kids back home all the time to see who could swim fastest from dock to dock. And those were like a quarter to a half a mile apart each. Every single damn time, you somehow managed to beat them. The runner up would always be at least thirty seconds behind you. On good days, more.

Fishing? Well, if you’re old enough to hold a rod then you’re old enough to get your ass sat on the boat. You can surely get something caught on the line, and then your parents would reach over and get the fish off of the hook for you. Then, you throw the sucker back in, and the process repeats. Really, they’re doing all the work, you’re just sitting there to keep the rod from going anywhere when something does tug back.

And knot tying is easy. Clumsy fingers get better as time goes on, but you observe until you’re eight or nine. You don’t start the knots until you’re nine to ten because the chances of the kids fucking up a perfectly good line with a bad line, is more common than you think. Even the prodigies are prone to messing up on the simplest ones. It’s fine though, they’ll learn it in the next couple years of their life, and soon they’ll be doing it in their sleep.

When they’re bored, they’ll ask for a rope or a wire to mess with so they can fuck around and tie knots. Practice gets you everywhere in this day and age, so there’s no better way to do it than when you’re bored. If you can do it without looking, then god damn, you might as well be teaching the others. Sometimes, you still catch Reed looking down to tie them, and he’s been doing it for over ten years by now.

The room is cold, and it only gets worse as time goes on. Sometimes, it’ll ease up just a little bit, but that’s rare. Every couple of hours, you’re certain. It’s not a constant feeling of the warmth of a goddamn grizzly bear snuggled right up against your side. You wish it was though, then you wouldn’t be shivering and chattering your teeth. They hit against each other, and you think that you’ll bite your tongue or chip one of your many teeth.

Not to mention the fact that it’s wet. There’s always the sound of water running, every now and then you’ll get a drop of water on your forehead or something. Furthering the fact that you’re cold. Who knew a single drop of water could ruin the temporary warmth that you’d falsely given yourself?

You, you guess.

“I-I-It’s cold as b-buh-balls in he-here.” you mutter, going to turn over.

The stabbing pain in your lower abdomen makes your eyes snap open, a muffled scream tries to leave your mouth, but a hand reaches over to place it over your mouth. Your entire body begins to ache. From your neck to your thighs. The left side of your face is swollen and your nose is very much crooked. It’s throwing you off.

When you raise your hand to grab the arm, you see that your own are littered in purple, blue and black bruises. In a panic, you shove whoever it is off, as you desperately tear off the sleeping bag without actually ripping it.

You know who it is next to you. You can see the wide green eyes staring at you in shock. His blonde hair is stuck to his forehead like he just came through the waterfall a minute ago. He’s in nothing but his pants, probably letting his jacket and shirt dry. You can already hear him asking you what you’re doing and he hasn’t even opened his mouth just yet.

“Woah--” Finnick starts, the second you unzip the jacket, pulling it off, “Are you cold? You might have hypothermia--”

“It’s not burning!” you snap, pulling your shirt up, and only then do you slow down for a moment. To see the shirt wrapped around your waist and the blood seeping through along with the bruises blossoming across your stomach, “How many of my ribs are broken?”

“I don’t know.” Finnick sits down now, rather than crouching, “I thought you were dead when I found you.”

You look to him, squinting, “When did you find me?”

“The uh--the night that two had died?”

“Very specific.”

“A couple days after Allio had died.” he tells you.

“Three days?” you ask, you’ve barely been keeping track, and now that you’ve been out for fuck knows how long, this entire thing has thrown it off balance.

“Yeah,”

“Who died? I only heard one cannon.” you mutter, zipping the jacket back up, and you notice that the jacket isn’t very breezy in the back.

Motherfucker! He’s tied his shirt around your waist and gave you his jacket. He has to be freezing, and he’s doing it to make sure that you get better. Or Finnick has an ulterior motive, he’s trying to win you back after he pulled that ass move and left you behind.

Finnick’s face twists with worry the second your eyes turn on him, “I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t just stay there--”

“Like hell you couldn’t!” you shout, shouting hurts your side, but it’s a dull pain.

“Playing pretend? Playing house? I don’t know how you lasted for so long.” he says calmly.

“It was going well until they fuckin’ figured out that I killed Allio,” you sigh, propping yourself up on the rocks behind you.

“You killed Allio?”

“You killed the girl from six?” you mock.

“And Thyme.” he tells you, moving away from you now, and before you can ask, he answers, “Mercy kill.”

“Who died after that?” you ask, running your fingers over your nose. You’re not too thrilled when it doesn’t hurt as badly as you thought it would. It means that it’s setting. Your nose is going to be fucking stuck like this.

“Guys from ten and three.”

You nearly choke on your spit, “Blaire? Blaire’s dead?!”

“Is that ten or three?”

“Three!” you cry, you can feel the frown on your face before it’s even settled, “He saved me from Lennox. If it weren’t for him, I would have been beaten to death. But I guess he felt like he owed me after I saved him from starving.”

“You saw him a second time?” Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“The day you left I saw him down by the lake or something, don’t remember exactly. Spent most of my time at the pond-lake and he kept showing up. My little bit of company.”

“Leave it to you to make friends in everyone you meet.” he mutters, you glare at the back of his head.

“Leave it to the fourteen-year-old boy to bail on his first alliance to deal with the career pack alone.” you pick up the nearest rock and hurl it at the back of his head for emphasis.

He groans, rubbing it and giving you a small glance over his shoulder, “Like I said--”

“I don’t want another apology.” you tell him, “Or an excuse.”

He doesn’t say anything, staring off into the water.

“Anyone else die?”

“Boy from eight.”

“Any of those kills yours?”

“The girl from eight on the first day, Thyme and the girl from six. Then the boy from ten and also the boy from eight.”

Quick mental math tells you that it’s five. He’s killed five so far, the same as you. Ten people that were in this arena have been killed by the district four participants. Everyone back home must be thrilled. You can’t wait for people to ask you what it’s like being a murder. It happened to Mags, it’ll surely happen to you.

And your response? You’ll ask them if they want to be added to the numbers.

“Damn. You know mine already.” you begin to push yourself up, and with all the noise, Finnick turns.

“What are you doing?”

“Fresh air.”

“You’re going to get the bandage wet.”

“Then I’ll take it off, it’s bloody anyway.” you begin with the jacket.

“Wouldn’t be if you stopped moving.” he mutters.

“I’m going to give you a black eye.” you threaten.

“To go along with yours? Along with that broken nose?”

“Finnick I swear to god, I don’t have a problem with stabbing you to death in here.”

He laughs, “You’re weak. Probably can’t even hold your arms above your head.” it’s quiet for a moment as you debate if you’re willing to prove him wrong, he adds, “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“It’s about to be.” you tell him, grabbing the bottom of your shirt as you very slowly pull it off. It starts in your ribs, and then slowly travels to your shoulders. When the rim--is that the right word?--of the shirt hits your swollen eye, you wince.

“We’re in the third week, I think. Six people left. Four if it’s just me and you.” he looks over.

Final numbers.

“Well, good.” you say, but it’s not good. You’re covered in bruises, broken bones and a stab wound in your stomach. You’re useless. Finnick could have killed you in your sleep and you wouldn’t have known. It would all have been done for you.

Once you start kicking at your shoes, Finnick realizes that you’re serious. He moves over, untying the boots and then helping with your pants. He carefully unties the bandage, since you hadn’t touched it just yet. And then he takes off his own socks and pants so it won’t get wet. Might as well come back into the little cave with dry things to wear.

It’s daytime, you can see it through the water. You put one hand over the stab place, passing through the water. It’s a little hard on the head, from the gallons of water hitting your head. But as soon as you pass through, you’re heading for the pond-lake water.

“It’s salt.” Finnick says as if you don’t already know.

You slip in, and you can hear Finnick splashing behind you. Probably worrying that you’re going to end up drowning or anything. You can swim even in the worst conditions, he can go fuck himself.

Despite this, he holds beneath your arms, helping you into the water slowly. You want to leave the second that the salt water enters the wound, but you push through it. He can clearly see how uncomfortable you are, but allows you to continue. He’s smart, knows not to try and tell you what’s best for yourself. You need to be up and on your feet, running around like you’re good as new.

Not saying that you want to kill off the last four, but there’s no way that you can stay in here for another week. Another goddamn agonizing week of eating fish, drinking iodized salt water and shivering in a sleeping bag. It has to end, you’re hungry, you’re tired, you’re absolutely exhausted to your very bones.

“Mac, Trink and Lennox and whoever the last--”

“Girl from five.” Finnick interrupts, and you nod.

“Girl from five.” you agree.

“What about them?” his hands are very gentle on your sides, and they eventually fade away in the water.

“They need to--” you try, but Finnick’s hand really is ripped from your arm now, jerking you harshly. You’re about to complain, until he’s pulled beneath the water, sending water flying into the air, “Finnick?”

How? How has he--you’re standing in the water! You’re fucking standing in it!”

You take in a deep breath, even though your lungs complain, following Finnick under the water. And you see the crevice he slipped into. A ravine in the middle of the pond-lake, and it goes down a while.

He’s reaching up for you, pointing to his ankle, and then making a stabbing motion.

His knife is on the seafloor, so you grab it. Something is holding onto his ankle and he needs you to save him.

You return to the top for air, knowing that it’ll be your last for a few minutes, and then you dive down. It’s probably not smart to have the knife sticking out from your mouth, or for it to be placed there in the first place, but it makes it easier for moving your arms. Before you know it, you’ve hit the crack, and you’re getting closer to Finnick by the second.

You take it out of your mouth, offering the handle to Finnick. His fingers graze it, and then he takes it after. Your lungs are burning, and you wish you could stay, but you’ll only drown. He’s working at his ankle, as you’re swimming up and occasionally looking down at him.

Then, he gets free, and he’s swimming faster than you are straight towards the top. On the way, he makes you wrap your arms around his torso, before he continues. When you’ve broken the surface, he’s gasping for air, you have a pounding headache, and it feels like you’ll never be able to hold air ever again.

“We need to leave.” you tell him, taking his arm as you pull him back to the waterfall, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” he tells you, and hisses when you take his hand instead.

You pull it up to look at, tilting your head when you can’t see anything, but then you bring it closer, seeing all the little cuts on his fingers, palms…

“Are you using vines?” you turn to look at him, he nods.

“How’d you know?”

“Because Blaire had the same cuts.”

“Sounds like you and Blaire were getting cozy.” he mutters.

“No time for jealousy after you ran off with Thyme.” you tell him, “the cuts aren’t poisonous I don’t think. You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” he says, “Hungry?”

“I guess.”

It’s a bummer that the pond-lake time was cut short. You were really looking forward for planning out the future. What you want to do as soon as you’re better. Mags has to send shit now, you’re awake and there’s no better way to heal your wounds than when you’re cognizant.

You’re ringing out your hair, which has grown a little longer in your time of being in the arena, when there’s a series of chimes, stopping you. Finnick looks to the sky from where he’d been staring off into the water.

“What the hell?”

“Congratulations on being the final six alive.” The gamemaker tells you guys, you feel like this is a trap, and you reach for Finnick immediately, he takes your hand, “There has been a rule change. If you and your district partner are still alive, then both of you may be crowned victors in these hunger games.”

You turn to Finnick the same moment he looks to you.

The gamemaker repeats what he says, as if you guys don’t understand. But you heard him the first time. A loud, crystal clear rule change. Who else would miss something this big?

“We can go home.” You laugh, grabbing Finnick, “Four more people and then we can go!”

“Only four?”

“Only four.” You confirm, pulling him closer.

-- CHAPTER FOURTEEN --

The rule change benefits two districts only. There’s obviously yours, you and Finnick are very much alive. District four has to be celebrating at this exact moment. Mox definitely cried when he received the news, and Reed was surprised. You can see it now.

This isn’t the first time the gamemakers have made this change. Every now and then, when there are districts with two people left in them, they’ll make this change. The particular district that wins, brings home their two kids. Celebrations are grand, bigger and better. And it’s expected that the winners are especially grateful. After all, you guys are supposed to be learning from your mistakes your ancestors made.

It’s only happened ten other times in the last sixty years. It’s not allowed during the Quarter Quells, at all. Because those are the special events. The twenty-fifth they chose the tributes, the fiftieth they got double the amount, and in eleven years there will be a third one. You’re just glad that you’re going to be a victor now. So they can’t throw a huge twist like six kids go in or something.

The rule change is never predicted, it’s a random choice. There have been times in the past where someone was able to guess that it would happen. People found out the system on why they did it, and started to find their way around it. After having the rule change twice in a row, the gamemakers realized that tributes were manipulating it.

They would choose the couples. So when everyone was beginning to cuddle up with each other—except for the huge age gaps like the twelve year olds and the fifteen—it became more common. Again, they figured this out and stopped doing it. Now it’s a once in a blue moon sort of thing.

You got really lucky.

You know that Reed is on the edge of his seat now. He’s cheering you on harder, telling you more advice, even if you can’t hear it. He has to be driving everyone around him nuts, even himself. He’ll be afraid to get on the boat to fish because he doesn’t want to miss anything important, like you or Finnick dying. Reed will be counting on Finnick to keep alive.

However, if Finnick were to die, it’s not an automatic crowning to district one—they have Trink and Lennox still alive, which is why there’s a rule change—they have to survive the other tributes. Kill one of them, Trink or Lennox, it doesn’t matter, then the rules will revert. There will be one victor only.

You could still very much win, it would be a lot more difficult. You’ll be fighting against the four others to make it home. Trink or Lennox would have to be the first to go. To even the playing fields, if one of them is dead, then they can’t team up against anyone.

District One will probably shower the brats with all the riches they can afford. You wouldn’t doubt it if they got special treatment from the Capitol too. They have so many goddamn victors, it’s annoying. There are constantly houses being built for a new victor each year. They don’t win? No biggie, they’ll win next year.

Four won’t get the same treatment as one, or two. You guys will get the houses, the infinite riches and the celebrations the same as everyone else. But it won’t be as grand, it’ll be like the other districts. Four is a career but four is treated like it’s one of the rich districts but nothing important.

Anyway, the rule change is very important. Keep you and Finnick alive, kill the others and go home. You need to wipe out Trink or Lennox, either or, doesn’t matter. And the others will fall into your hands eventually.

“These vines are insufferable.” Finnick whines, you look from where you’re sitting to see that his hands are completely raw.

“Stop touching it!” You kick his arm with your foot, before going back to the fish.

“I can’t, it needs to be fixed.” Finnick mutters, you get up, yanking the damn thing out of his hands before throwing it through the water, “Hey!”

“Mags will send us rope or something,” you tell him, going to look at his expensive ass gift in the corner of the cave, “And then we can make a proper net.”

“Do you even know how?” Finnick puts his hands into the water to wash them off.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Blaire taught me how. I’ll be able to make a sturdy net with some rope.” You tell him.

You take a moment, deliberating if you want to go through the water or not. But the music from a sponsor makes your ears perk up practically, and you’re stumbling through the water, trying to keep your balance from the force of the water.

Mags has sent a couple of things since you woke. The first thing is the cream for the wound on your side. You’ve been applying it every night, and it’s done it’s magic. It’s nothing but a bright pink scar now. She had nothing for bruises, or broken bones. So you’ve had to tough it out.

Finnick got his gift a couple days after he had left, sometime during the second week. You hadn’t even noticed it until you and him went back inside after the rule change. To see the silver trident staring back at you. Finnick was all smug talking about how it had to have cost thousands. All you could say was that he could have done just the same with a spear. But he told you that it wasn’t the same.

Whatever, both of you have your respected weapons now. He told you his technique on how he killed so many. You listened as he informed you of the net, that he would throw over the people, get them trapped and tangled. Then he would come in with the trident and kill them just like that.

Unfortunately, with that technique, it meant he kept losing the vine-nets. He’s made four, and he was on his way to making the fifth. Finnick wasn’t too fond of the idea of untangling the bodies of the people he killed from the nets. So instead he just let the gamemakers take them, because they’ll be able to cut it apart and take the body after that. Plus, he didn’t want to take the chance of the gamemakers getting impatient.

But with a rope, no more tiny cuts in the hands. It saves time, it means you guys can kill more people with the light through the waterfall technique. It draws people in, he nets them, kills them, and then the process repeats. But the nets took so much time to make that it would be hard to get two in a day.

Finnick splashes through the water faster than you can. On the way, he steps on the vine-net, and he hisses. Jumping on one foot for a second, holding the other he whines about the thorns. And then he continues, wobbling on his feet slightly.

“This is why you wear shoes!” You tell him, kicking the vines off to the side, away from where either of you would bother to go.

“It’s the hunger games, I don’t need shoes!” He tells you, grabbing the floating sponsor gift. He brings it all the way back over, being careful not to let it touch the water.

It would be fine, if it can float in the water, then it can sink or take in some. It’s probably waterproof, actually. But you can say that you’ve ever seen a gift sent when the tributes were in the water. This is a first for you.

Finnick stands on the rocks next to you, and carefully unravels the parachute, and then opens the lid. It’s a fairly big gift, so when it shows a shit ton of rope, you cheer slightly.

“See! Told you—“

Finnick tilts his head, pulling up the paper. It’s sogs a little in his fingers since they’re wet, but it would be the same for you. Going through the waterfall had completely soaked you like you were swimming in the pond-lake like Finnick had.

“It’s from our district.” Finnick tells you, moving it so you can see.

And clear as day, it says, “This will work better than vines, District Four.”

Tears gather in your eyes and you have to cover your face for a moment, “Just a second.”

“Don’t worry, I’m crying too.” Finnick laughs, and you move your hands.

He pulls out the rope, weighing it in his hands, “Can this stand four more?”

“It could stand the entire twenty-two had we gotten it at the beginning.” You laugh, he joins in.

You look to the water, there has to be a camera on you somewhere, “Thank you, it won’t go to waste. We love you, and we’ll both be home soon, I promise.”

Finnick nods along, “We miss you tons.”

“Can’t wait to start fishing again.” You snicker, and Finnick punches your arm this time, “No but seriously, thank you.”

You and Finnick slip into the cave, being sure to cover the rope so it doesn’t get wet. When you get inside, you unravel the coil, and grab your knife.

“Gonna teach me how?” Finnick asks, you grin at him slightly.

“Sure. If you promise to be a good sport about it.”

—

If Finnick says that it has worked four times before, then it’ll work this time too, if the others will take the bait. The singles are probably desperate to wipe out the doubles so they’ll be able to go home. It’s the same tactic that you were saying before. They’ll be able to make it home if the doubles are taken out because they can’t team up.

The fire is like luring them to their deaths, almost. The both of you are prepared to take them down, and they might be thinking that you’re stupid for even trying a fire in the first place. Wondering how you’ve managed to stay alive so long with such stupid ideas.

Instead, you guys are clever. You guys have got everything on lock. The fire, the net ready and the trident and spears within grasp if necessary. Unlike all the other times though, Finnick has someone to help. All it’ll take is for them to get caught and for him to stab. There’s no reason for him to even bother helping you with the net.

You’ve made it big enough for them to get caught in, and you didn’t cut the string for the rim. You pull it shut, there’s no escape, and they're tangled in the mesh. Finnick can get them within a couple of seconds, send the body off, and stomp out the fire. Make a new net, rinse and repeat.

“How do you like your fish? Burnt or extra burnt?”

“Preferably not burnt.” You look over to see that they’re practically black, “Remind me why I put you on cooking duty.”

“Because you were wallowing in your own misery?”

“Y’know Finnick, it’s really not that hard to not be a dick.”

“Some girls think it’s charming.”

“I’m not some girls.” You huff, “But I’m guessing Thyme was?”

Finnick rolls his eyes before shoving the burnt fish your way, “I didn't like her like that.”

“Try again.”

“You are jealous.” He looks smug, again.

“Were you jealous when I told you that Blaire, boy from district three that I was hanging out with for a week straight, no supervision. Just me, him, the vines and the water were together? Him teaching me how to weave the vines, me feeding him so he didn’t die? Were you jealous then?” You tilt your head, watching as the smug falls and turns into something else.

“No.”

“Your voice cracked. You’re a fucking liar.” You tell him, “And by the way, it’s your own fault that I had to make friends with other people while you abandoned me. Leaving me to the fucking hounds.”

“You managed it seems.” He goes to eat.

“That’s not the point.” You tell him, “Partners in crime. An alliance! We were in this together!”

“At least we’re in it together now.”

“Yeah,” you mutter bitterly, going to eat.

It has to be only five minutes of silence, before the splashing of water interrupts you both. Finnick jumps immediately, kicking everything out of the way as quickly and quietly as he can. You take one final bite, getting a mouthful before the net is in your hands.

“Dumbasses.” It's a female voice, but it’s not Trink.

“Who?” you mouth to Finnick, and he thinks for a moment.

“Girl from five.” he mouths back, and then shrugs, “Trink?”

You shake your head.

The splashing gets louder as time goes on, and then you can just barely see her silhouette through the water. Finnick nods to you, letting you know that you should do it.

You get a little closer, hands through the water and then you toss it. There’s a yelp, and you yank the rope, trapping her inside. Finnick goes through the water.

“Wait!” the girl screams.

“Who’s the dumbass now?” Finnick asks, and then the cannon sounds.

Crouching down, you cut the rope, “You can send her into the water.”

“The careers--” Finnick barely gets out, you grab onto the spear. Your heart is pounding in your ears when you stumble through the water.

It’s just Lennox in the water, and he’s bearing a sword. When he sees you, he hisses, “Bitch!”

He turns to leave, but you raise the spear, going to throw it. Finnick grabs your hand, stopping you, “Not today.”

“I can hit him.” you reason, and Finnick goes to your ear.

“They’re going to want a show.”

He’s right, Snow will want a show. So, you’ll just have to wait for another time to kill them. It’s a shame, because you could wipe Lennox right off the fucking map, and all you’d have to kill is Mac and Trink.

When Lennox is out of sight, you send the girl from five off.

“He knows where we’re staying.” you lean into Finnick a little.

“He won’t come until he’s prepared with Trink,” Finnick tells you, and you watch as the girl gets taken away. You wonder how the family is taking it. If you make it, then that means on the victory tour you’ll have to see their families.

For you, five to six--you’re not sure if the five girl will count as the sixth, since you didn’t kill her directly, you just assisted--different families you have to face. Stand tall and bear your chest and try not to cry because you’re guilty to the very last cell. You killed their family. You killed that twelve year old boy from twelve.

You killed the girl from ten, the boy from eleven, Eytelle, the boy from twelve and Allio. And now the girl from six. You’ve got five deaths on your hands, and you’ll have to face them.

Is it even worth it?

Yes, it is. You’ve gone all this way, you can’t just bow out of it now. You’re almost done, three more to go.

“I’ll go make a net big enough.” you turn, leaving Finnick outside.

-- CHAPTER FIFTEEN --

The sound of a cannon jolts you awake. Finnick, who’s beside you, jumps three feet in the air as he suddenly reaches for his trident. He creeps out of the only sleeping bag that you have, and he goes to the water. Before he can cross it, you grab his ankle.

“You’ll get all wet.” you whisper.

“I need to see.” he tells you, but he knows you’re right. So he strips free of his boots, socks, jacket, shirt, and pants.

He leaves it in a disorganized pile off to the side. Out of reach of any water that might backsplash when he walks through. You watch as he winces at the cold water, before disappearing. The faint sound of splashing allows you to calm down a little bit.

It would be a blessing to get up and follow him. So he wouldn’t be going out there alone, you’d be right next to him in case there is someone else. Ready to pounce and strike.

They know where you are, so sitting here, inside of this cave makes you feel like you’re trapped. At any given moment they could show up and you would be fucked. Especially with Finnick gone, there’s nothing you can do.

Whatever you caught while being in here, it’s bedridden you. Getting up and around is painful. It’s hard enough to sleep at night when it feels like a thousand tiny needles are jabbing into your stomach. It took you over two hours to fall asleep, and you can take a safe bet that you only slept for a couple of hours.

It feels like it’s only been a couple of hours. You should be wide awake, ready to help Finnick if he were to call for help, but your eyes are drooping. Begging for another couple of hours before your body realizes you’re awake and starts the pain. You don’t close your eyes, laying your head down instead.

The spashling has long since stopped. It’s almost pure silence, except for the sound of cicadas and the random shuffling of leaves. The water is a constant, you’ve managed to drown it out by now. Not even background noise, it’s silence due to the consistency. However, you can hear the waves, coming up onto the shore of the rocks nearby.

You try to focus on them, hoping that there will be an irregular rhythm, but it turns out that they too have their own system. Before you know it, your eyes have closed on their own. You grind your teeth to keep yourself awake, it doesn’t work. Your jaw will go slack and it jolts your awake almost.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. Your muscles complain, and you’ve already stirred something in your stomach. Ignoring it, you begin pulling off your own boots, following with the socks.

You strain to hear any sort of sound that would indicate that he’s alive. Water splashing, heavy breathing, the trident accidentally hitting the rocks, but you get nothing.

The clothes come off a little faster now, socks, jacket, pants. You take a breather because the shirt is going to cause more pain that it’s worth. When you feel like you can tolerate it, two hands on the bottom of the cloth, and a quick movement.

The stabbing appears, and the lines are blurred between your still very broken ribs or the sickness in your stomach. When the shirt is off of you, and you have a moment to breathe, nausea hits you like a truck. You place your hand on the wall to steady yourself, thinking that the cold will jolt your brain.

It works a little bit, but the idea of you puking is at the front of your mind now, unwillingly. You can’t puke, it’s taken you days to work up an appetite. Whatever you have has completely gotten rid of hunger, which is making you drop weight. Finnick can see it, you know.

He gets this worried look in his eyes each time he watches you get up and move. Or try to choke down food, even if it makes you gag. He probably isn’t on your back about it because he knows that you’re trying. You’re not trying to be bedridden, you’re not purposely starving yourself. He knows you want to live, and you guess that he’s waiting for the moment you give up.

It’s charming for him to be worried like that but it makes you feel like a baby. If you wanted to be babied, you would have acted like this since the beginning, even if you weren’t sick. Being incapable of taking care of yourself isn’t a trait that you want in here. Doesn’t get sponsors, at all.

As you get up, you feel like you’ve gained forty years of age. Your muscles are aching, everything hurts in general. The dizziness and the pounding headache comes back. Besides this all, you reach over for the spear, using it as a cane as you hobble your way out of the cave.

The water is cold, and once again, the force of tons of water hitting you nearly knocks you off your feet. On a regular day, sickness and injury free, you would be able to walk through this like it’s nothing. Look at what time has done to you. Made you the goddam laughing stock of the pen.

It’s still dark out, the moon is fairly high, you guess that it’s midnight to one in the morning. It’s an odd time for someone to die, unless Trink and Lennox we’re hunting down Mac or something. Could be the other way around and got himself killed. Mac killed one of them, got away. One of them died of the same sickness you have…

Possibilities are endless here. There’s hundreds of ideas they could have used on you guys. You just want to know what’s so special about midnight, if the gamemakers had done it. Maybe all of you are having trouble sleeping and this is their way of torturing you guys. Subtly, and with sacrifices.

There’s no sight of Finnick, anywhere. Even though you’re already soaking wet, you’re not too fond of the idea of going into the water. The night time is when the creatures come to life. If Finnick had gotten grabbed, then that’s it for him. You can’t go in to save him blind, the automatic right to the win would be given to District One.

You sit in the cold water, knees to your chest as you look over the water, and then the nearby trees. Then to the sky as if they’ll display whoever it is that died. You’ll have to wait tomorrow to see, unless that’s what Finnick is doing.

If he went to the cornucopia by himself then he’s stupid. You get the motive—he goes to see if Trink and Lennox are there, then comes back without being seen—but he’s half naked, soaked in water with a metal trident. The motherfucker is probably slipping and sliding out of his hands.

You sit out there for another ten minutes, no longer tired, splashing the water onto your stomach every now and then to ease the pain. Eventually, you hear splashing that isn’t coming from you. Your eyes dart over, and you see Finnick, trident in hand as he wades through the water. He makes stabbing motions to keep the creatures away.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be so long.” Finnick tells you, “But it’s hard to leave when they’re talking about an attack plan.”

You perk up, “You’re forgiven, what did you hear?”

“Well, Mac is the one that’s dead.” He tells you, but you guessed that already. The psychopaths from district one are smarter than whatever Mac did to die.

“That’s fine.” You tell him, “A bummer, he was nice. But fine.”

Finnick chuckles, he takes a seat next to you, and then presses a quick kiss to your lips. You scowl, because you’re not looking forward to him getting sick too. But really, he would have had to be sick by now if it’s contagious. What the fuck did you get sick off of?

“They want to attack in two days. Build up on body weight and all of that again. They don’t know if we’re the ones that are dead or killed Mac or whatever. Taking a guess it was Mac that died at least.” He informs, you nod along to it.

“Two days to plan their murder, huh?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.

“Any ideas?”

“A few.” You admit, a small smirk coming over your face, “Remember how Lennox choked me?”

“Wasn’t there but yes.” He says, crossing his legs.

“And my last name is Gallows…” you trail off, splashing water a little bit.

“Uh huh.”

“What if we take that extra rope, tie it into a noose, lure him in and hang him?” You look over to see him with the same sickening grin that’s covering your face.

“Sounds interesting. Who’s luring and how are we hanging?”

—

Finnick has to watch you way more carefully now. One of your hands are either on his shoulder, so that you may catch yourself in case you stumble. Or it’s in the crook of his arm, where he’ll be able to swoop you into his arms if your legs buckle beneath you. The sickness is eating away at your muscle.

There are times when you’ll be standing, perfectly fine, and you’ll forget about the illness altogether. And then, your legs will give out, Finnick is diving across the room to catch you so you don’t snap anything like a wrist, trying to catch yourself. Your body will slump, like you’re lifeless, but you’re so very aware of it.

It’s scaring him now. He doesn’t think you’ll make it out alive, he thinks that you’ll die in here, from whatever you caught. You’re not hungry, you gag and throw up most of the food you get down. The lack of exercise is diminishing what little muscle you came into the arena with. There’s a high fever, you’re sweating almost constantly, but then the chills will swoop in out of nowhere. Not to mention the round-the-clock headache.

You want it all to stop. You’ve never got this sick back home, it was the common flu that went around. Only the very, very poor, skinny kids would die to it, since their immune system can’t handle anything. But that’s hardly ever the case, even the poorest people in the district have a fair chunk of change to carry around.

If you’re going to die from whatever Capitol-altered disease, you’d just have it done in a snap. It’s been almost a week of you having it. And the fact that it had gotten so bad overnight is not a good sign. It was just earlier this morning, midnight when you were conspiring with Finnick on how to end this.

It evolved and it’s completely ruined your body within an eight to eleven hour time span. This means that today, tomorrow, or the day after are your final days. You die tonight, it just leaves Finnick to deal with the others. You can’t do that to him, you can’t send him home alone after all that has happened.

You’re not going to give this up.

“Eat.” Finnick shoves the fish into your hands and you take in a small breath, to keep your side from being stabbed.

“Finnick this won’t stay down.” you tell him calmly, but you pick it apart anyway, using the water to drink it down.

And then you stop as you stare at the water, then back to the fish. There’s only really two ways you could have gotten sick. It wasn’t because of Blaire, he was healthy as fuck, and the only reason why he died was because he attacked Lennox while he was trying to kill you.

You couldn’t have picked it up from Trink, Allio or Lennox--assuming that it had some sort of incubation period--because that means they would have to be crawling with the disease too. From what Finnick has told you, they seem to be just fine. You’re the only one dying in here.

Finnick is an automatic no, he isn't sick either and he isn’t catching it. Another reason why you couldn’t have caught it from the others, is because it doesn’t seem to be contagious through human contact.

Which narrows down the possibilities. You got it from eating berries and leaves, fish, or the water. You haven’t eaten berries and leaves in a while though, so those have to be out of it.

It’s the water and the fish, they have something to do with it. It can’t be an allergic reaction, because it doesn’t deteriorate the body like this. If it was a reaction, then you’d be breaking out in hives, through closing in and you’d been dead by now. Unless it’s a small allergy, but that’s not the case either.

“Finnick, what are some diseases passed through water?” you ask, slowly setting the food down.

He tilts his head slightly, “Uhh, E coli, Cholera, Typhoid, Salmonella--? Why?”

Typhoid is the one you recognize, because of the few cases some of the neighborhood kids back home had. With the right treatment, they wouldn’t die, but for the few who let it go on for too long, or didn’t have the money to pay for it, their kids--or themselves--would die.

“The symptoms to…” you lean back, “What’s the--?”

The headache seems to increase, stopping you from thinking any further. You press the heels of your hands to your temples to ease the pain. Of course, it does nothing, but it feels better than just sitting there. You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes, rocking back and forth.

Think, think!

What the fuck is the cure to Typhoid? Hell, what are the symptoms? What’s it related to? How can you get it?

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?”

Few cases back home. Parents who go down to the sea to collect water. Use for baths, and the kids accidentally drink it. It’s not the salt its--its the bacteria.

“Water,” you look to Finnick, “Have you been treating the water?”

His face twists, and then he pales, “I--I forgot once--”

That’s enough for you to catch it. Just a little bit of contaminated water will get it going. Your body has been fighting off this sickness for a week, and it took you this long to think it over.

That’s not the matter, though. The matter, is that if you don’t get medicine, you’ll die from it being untreated.

“Mags, if you’re listening--it’s Typhoid fever,” you tell her, “Untreated it’ll kill me. Please, please send me something. Whatever it is that’ll cure it. One pill or sip is better than none, please.”

Finnick looks guilty, but you don’t care. It was an honest mistake, he didn’t know that the water was carrying the disease. None of you would have ever knew if he hadn’t accidentally skipped it. You’d still be up on your feet moving around like none of it ever happened.

This must be what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t punish yourself for this. Not now, do it later when we win.”

“What if we don’t win because of my mistake?” he asks, you point your finger.

“Hope. You have hope now, because I can’t carry it for the both of us. I forgive you, we’re going to win.”

Silence, as you wait for the sound of a sponsor gift. But the chiming never sounds, letting you know that you’re on your own. It must be far too expensive, or they just can’t hear you.

“We have better things to worry about, Finn.” you shake your head, “We need to do it tomorrow. We can’t wait until the end of the week.”

“I know.” he whispers, “Are you sure?”

“We have to.”

-- CHAPTER SIXTEEN --

There used to be a song that your mother would sing when you had caught the cold. It was more of a poem, but she would sing it like a lullaby to ease your headache and get you tired. It would always be the first couple nights of the cold, which are the worse days, and as it got better, she would stop. A bedtime remedy, to getting you to fall asleep quickly instead of letting you toss and turn through the night.

As you lay awake most of the time now, you think of it all the time. Reciting the words back to yourself softly. You can’t necessarily sing it without waking Finnick, so instead you turn it from a chant to a couple of lines at a time. You decipher the words, find meanings and then you’ll repeat it back to yourself when they make sense.

It tires you out a lot quicker than you thought it would. Lately, it’s been working like a charm. Tonight, it offers no comfort though, because later today, you’ll be luring the last two tributes to their deaths. You’ll be using the last of your strength to win the games. If today doesn’t work, you give yourself permission to fall over and croak.

You’re in the final hours of your life. Finnick might be seeing it, but it’s not as clear to him. He’s not feeling all of it directly, he’s watching you pretend. He’s not seeing the way that you flinch and wince when his back is turned. If only he saw how much pain you’re in.

The second you win, you’ll be fine. You’ll be on that hovercraft, they’ll be feeding you to doctors as Finnick has to watch. They’ll be hooking you up to water and liquid food, and medicine that stops the pain and diminishes the fever. They’ll be working their best to save you, because they can’t have a victor die on the craft.

Finnick wouldn’t need anything done to him. They’d probably take him and marvel. They’d have to fix up a few scars but that would be it. There would be no reason to save him from anything. Unless something goes wrong today, he gets stabbed or something. Not going to happen on your watch, even if he doesn't like it.

The sun rises a little faster now, and you come to terms with the fact that you'll be working off of nothing today. There’s a few things to do to set up the scene, and then you’ll be able to execute it perfectly.

“Finnick.” You nudge lightly, he opens his eyes slowly, “It’s time.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“An hour or two.” You tell him, “Woke up an hour or so ago. Not much.”

“Okay,” he says, you slip out of the bag first. Your muscles slowly stretch, making a low groan come from you. You’ve been stiff for long enough, your body thinks that you’re a statue.

Finnick slowly starts pulling out food, you make the last fire you’ll ever have to make in your life. When it sparks, your hands go over it immediately, the fever might be burning your forehead, fueling your headache but it’s also controlling the chills. The truth is, is that you’re cold as fuck. When you leave, the water will make it worse. But you’ll get there when the time comes.

The both of you heat up the food, watching as Finnick uncoils the rope, trying the noose. You don’t ask him how he knows to tie it, you just watch, and then you prod yourself a little bit. Taking in an assessment of how you’ll be able to turn your body.

Your ribs on your left side are still very painful, turning that way is like getting stabbed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, unless the Capitol has something for that, to get it to speed up and get placed right back where they need to be, not floating around in your body, causing more harm than good.

The bruises are almost gone, they’re just a very light purple now. Pressing on them doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s nothing compared to everything else that you’re feeling. Your body as a whole is weak, so there's no worry about specific knees or arms, it’s just the both of them. Not good, but you won’t have to catch yourself before you use the wrong one. You’re always taking a chance.

All cuts are now scabs, there’s a few more scars here and there, but besides that, you’re ready to go. Finnick finishes eating pretty quickly, you guys finish off all the food that you had set aside. You feel absolutely sick to your stomach, since it was hard getting it down in the first place. Overfeeding isn’t helpful by any means, until you’re trying to put on weight.

If you guys get hungry later on, it’s possible to grab something from the pond-lake or whatever. You’ll be inside of the woods, near the middle, but it won’t be that far from the pond-lake if lunch would be needed. But by the look on Finnick’s face, he’s not that hungry either. He stuffed himself just as badly as you had.

He shoves everything into the backpack. The rope, what water you guys have, which he still looks guilty about. Small meaningless knives that you don’t need, the works. After that, he helps you onto your feet, you both take your weapons of choice, and leave the cave.

There was no point in stomping out the fire, you guys won’t be back. Which is why you guys left the sleeping bag, and all the other little things that came with the backpacks when you got them. For all you care, they can burn up in a blaze. The fire will put itself out before it reaches the water.

Finnick leads the way through the water. Instead of going straight out of the waterfall, a little to the left, you guys go right diagonally. If you were to go straight, you’d head right for the cornucopia. You guys want to do it in one of the big ass trees, out of sight of them in case they were to come looking.

You hold Finnick’s trident, as he holds the backpack above the water since it isn’t waterproof, and you guys don’t want the rope to get wet. You’d rather it be dry, it’ll be more harsh when it gets around Lennox.

“Almost home.”

“We should have built a treehouse. I mean, it’s been a month, we had the time.” You laugh, he snickers.

“Gamemakers would have had a fire.”

“Wouldn’t have been smart. I’m sure that the tourists would have loved to stay in a personalized treehouse! Oh Finnick, do you think we have time?” You bat your eyelashes when he looks to you, he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can hardly stand.”

“So? It won’t be so hard.” You reason about the hypothetical treehouse, daydreaming about having one. What would go inside, how much time it would take. How you would replace materials like nails with vine and all that. Or very thin rocks that you can hammer into the wood.

“No treehouse.” Finnick tells you, and then the both of you laugh at each other.

When you reach the land finally, you guys take the time to ring out your clothes. Then you continue to the place that Finnick had picked out last night. When you get to it, you’re thoroughly impressed to see that it’s a big ass tree, and there’s plenty of land around to run around in. This is a place you could build a house, raise a family and all of that.

Finnick unpacks the rope, you take it, throwing it around your neck to keep it from going anywhere. You tuck your spear between your pants and belt, with the blade down. You take your water and put it in your jacket, Finnick kisses you quickly, wishes you good luck, and then you turn to the tree.

Spear, rope, water, a good luck kiss. Now, to climb the tree without falling. Your body will complain and give you hell for this, but it’s all for the greater good.

You climb the tree slowly, being careful of your left side. Right hand, left hand, right foot, left foot. Occasionally you’ll reach higher than you should, wobble, but catch yourself the next time around.

The spear gets in the way and you have to keep moving the water to where it needs to be. You take a break on the sturdy branches, and continue when it’s just enough to make it to the next one.

Before you know it, you’re at the one branch that stretches over Finnick below you. You wrap your legs around the branch, and even go as far as to tie the non-noose end of the rope to your body. Then, you strip free of the jacket, dropping it for Finnick. The boots follow, and you’re disappointed to see that he dodges where you tried to drop it on him.

“Pants too?” You ask, Finnick shakes his head.

You take a long drink of water, since the sun is in your eyes. And then you take another before dropping it for Finnick, setting up the scene where Trink and Lennox will come along just to die.

Lennox is going to be heavy, he’s had plenty of food to eat from because of the middle. He’s going to weigh what he normally did when he came in. Maybe a few pounds shorter. You however, aren’t at all where you need to be.

The big breakfast helped, but it wasn’t perfect. You’ve got one, two, possibly three pounds more than you had originally. You’ll fail when it comes to pulling Lennox up with the rope using just your muscle strength. To actually hang him, he’ll need something to balance out his weight, almost.

He’s going to be below you, you get the noose around his neck, you yank and what? Choke him for a split second? Finnick will be fucked.

You didn’t propose this part of the plan to Finnick because you knew he would say no. He won’t ever say yes to something this dangerous and risky, which is the exact reason why it’s going to work. Risky, but odds in your favor.

“I’m ready.” Finnick tells you, you nod.

“Let’s do it!”

You cut yourself free quickly, then you measure out just about what you’ll need to fall through on this. Your eyes keep darting to Finnick, worried about when he’ll yell.

You drape the extra rope across the branch behind you, out of sight out of mind. The noose rope is shorter, but still long enough to reach Lennox. Finnick comes over now, standing right next to it, and nods up at you. Perfect length.

It’s going to get shorter though. You tie a constrictors knot, which will be impossible for the Capitol doctors to get off of you, but they’ll manage. They have to save you, and your leg if it’s possible. If there’s no reason to cut it off, then they can’t. It’s not a medical problem, it’s rope.

You dangle your leg, seeing how it reaches the same height as before presumably. Then, you draw some of it back up to keep out of sight of the others when they come in.

Just in time to listen to Finnick give a blood curdling scream. You clench your teeth together, eyes on the direction the others are going to be coming in at. Listening as Finnick continues to scream for your placebo self to wake up. Yelling for Mags to send in some sort of medicine, to save you.

“Please! Please!” Finnick screams, and at the first snap of a branch, your eyes flicker to Trink and Lennox, “No—!”

“She’s not dead yet?” You think you hear Trink ask.

You wonder if the Capitol can spare a false cannon to see what happens. If they’ll attack him immediately, like a bunch of rabid dogs.

“Leave her alone,” Finnick seethes, he’s crouched over, backing up which is drawing the others to walk over. You can see the smiles on their faces from here.

“I’ve got him.” Trink chirps.

“No!” Finnick lunges forward slightly when Lennox gets close to your body, you begin to lower the rope little by little.

Lennox jumps for your body, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest when you free the rope. Only to see it come up short.

“Shit.” You curse, and then you dip your leg over, getting it right around Lennox’s neck.

Finnick attacks Trink, who’s caught up watching the rope. She goes to warn Lennox, but Finnick shuts her up.

Before Lennox can do anything, you take a deep breath. Feeling the fear try to paralyze your body into rethinking this. You don’t let it, you throw your body the opposite side, to the left.

Lennox chokes, you feel the air on your skin as you watch the branch of the tree get further away. Until the momentum comes to a slow, and you’re dangling in the air by a rope from your foot.

You look to see Lennox, face turning purple as he grabs onto the rope to relieve the pain of choking, you curl your body slightly, pulling him up a little, and his eyes bulge. The sound of a cannon startles you, because it’s clearly not Lennox, who you’re staring at, and he’s staring at you. Still alive.

You go to yell Finnick’s name, but it gets caught in your throat. The blood is rushing to your head, the headache increasing in power. The pain just seems to skyrocket the longer you hang here.

“I’m alive.” Finnick tells you, and then you watch as his trident flies through the air.

It misses Lennox by an inch or two, getting lodged in the tree. You sigh, reaching for your spear now. You don’t want to get yourself free. You want to kill Lennox, and you’re sure that it will be a sight to behold, him hanging from a tree, with you suspending him on the other side, a spear through whatever you can get.

With it in hand, you lean forward, your left side aches from the sit up. You and Lennox lock eyes, and he shakes his head slightly, beginning you not to even though his face is a deep purple and blood is coming out of his nose, trickling down his lips.

You draw your arm back, waiting for the rope to stop swaying, and then you launch it forward, the very last of your strength going along with it. You’re not even able to see if it goes through anything. The sound of a cannon gives it away.

“You did it!” Finnick yells, but his voice is drowned, you can hardly hear it.

You can feel your body relax, arms going past your head. You try to blink away the spots, but they don’t go anywhere. In fact, they take out your vision completely.

—

I told her so, and if she say,

That she was wrong,

Then may it be,

A quick little bug,

That will come and go.

—

She will lay,

In clean, white sheets,

A full tummy,

And a cup of tea,

She will rest,

And she will think,

How this will be,

The very last time.

—

But here comes grey,

Water-filled clouds,

She pulls on her shoes,

And her coat,

So that she may,

Go in the rain.

—

I will come,

To the porch,

To warm her of,

What may come,

She will laugh,

She will splash,

But she won’t listen.

Then she will come later with;

Rain-soaked clothes,

Not feeling good,

And beg me to care for her.

(the poem is a circle).

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #finnick odair #lacuna #lacuna chapter thirteen #lacuna chapter fourteen #lacuna chapter fifteen #lacuna chapter sixteen

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ronsb1tch97 · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll always love you (y/n year one Ron year 2)

Being Harry’s little sister is hard but even harder when you are in his shadow all the time because most people didn’t know you existed but things got better when I met my brothers best friend. it all started at like 1:30 a.m on July 31 1992 I was finishing singing happy birthday when I noticed a car pull up in front of mine and Harry’s window, “Harry it’s me Ron come get your trunk we are taking you to the burrow wait who the bloody hell is this“ a tall red haired boy with bright blue eyes said to harry “I’m y/n” is all I muster to say I was beginning to turn pink “cool ok well get your things and your trunk we are taking you and Harry to the burrow“ Ron says to me. I grab everything I can and stuff even more stuff into my trunk I had been packed for hogwarts sense my birthday as I looked around I realized how the hell are we going to get in the car if we have bars on our windows “Harry I can barely fit through the bars so I can get in the car fine but how will you“ I say to Harry nervously “it’s fine we will have to just take them down ok” Harry says to me as I slip through the bars and into “here we need to break the bars some how to you have a hook and rope of some sort“ I say to two ginger geared boys who where much older that Harry “yeah we do hang on” one of the ginger boys says to me. we get the bars off but it woke up the dursleys and as Harry finished putting our bags in the trunk the door opened finding Petunia and Vernon mine Harry’s horrid aunt and uncle. “Come on Harry just jump please I can’t be without you not again please hurry“ I say to Harry as i start crying because I think that Harry won’t make it but he does “y/n I’m going to be fine I’m never going to leave you again I promise” Harry says to me “hey hey hey it’s going to be ok and if you’d like I can ask my mum if you could move in worth my little sister ginny.” Ron said to me.

______________________________________________________________

“Where have you been“ a red haired women says to I assume her kids “how lovely to see you Harry“ she says to Harry “no note beds empty car gone you could have died or been seen” she says to the boy “and who is the beautiful little girl“ she says pointing to me “I’m y/n, y/n Potter Harry’s little sister I’m truly sorry I shouldn’t be here you guys just wanted Harry“ I say “oh no no no, your fine are you hungry deary” the red haired woman said to me. “Yes i can help if you’d like at the dursleys I cooked lunch and dinner there while Harry cook breakfast” I say to her “oh no y/n I will do you just get settled in have Ron give you a tour and just put your stuff in ginnys room and please call me molly dear” molly says to me “ok” is all I say before Ron drags me upstairs and around there wonky yet welcoming magical home. “Ok so this is Ginnys room“ Ron says to me “hey gin this is y/n she is going to be staying with us for the rest of the summer and hey if you guys both get into gryffindor then you will probably share a dorm with each other and hermione”. Ron says to ginny “hello it’s so wonderful to meet you” I say to her before molly says that breakfast is ready.

During breakfast another red headed person stepped through the door, asking who me and Harry where “I’m Harry, Harry Potter” Harry says to him “my god are you really” author says to Harry “and who is she” author says pointing to me “I’m y/n, y/n Potter Harry’s littler sister” is all I say before he starts asking me and Harry questions about a bunch of random muggle things. Soon after the post comes with our hogwarts letters in the mail “hey look they brought y/n and harrys as well” Percy says. “This won’t come cheap this year the spell books alone” Fred says before molly cuts him off “we’ll manage but you know where we have to go diagon alley”. Is all she says before shoving us all into there now cramped living room “Harry come on now say it very clear” molly says before Ron cuts in “but Harry’s never traveled by flue powder” Ron says “ok come up then Ronald” molly says as Ron grabs what I guess to be flue powder and says “diagon alley” and a green flame shoots through the fire place and Ron was gone now it was Harry’s turn and he didn’t exactly say it properly now it was my turn I was a little nervous but molly said it would all be ok if I said it like Ron and not Harry “diagon alley” I say, and as soon as I get up I notice Ron standing there “hey where’s Harry” I say to Ron “no idea but we’ll find him” he says to me as he notices me starting to fidget “hey he not going to leave you he’ll be fine and ok” Ron’s says to me.

——————————————————————————————————

“Harry were where you I was so worried thought you were lost or you’d gotten into trouble” I say to Harry once he comes back “who the hell is this guys and why is everyone bloody drooling over him” I say to Ron “he is Gildory Lockheart he did a bunch of things around the world or something” Ron says to me “I bet he is a fraud just taking other people credit” I say as this photographer guy nabs Harry by his school robes and puts him next to lockheart and took there picture. Soon after that horrible mess me Harry, a girl with thick bushy brown hair, and the Weasley are on our way out we run in to a rather annoying boy with slick back bleach blonde hair comes around “bet you loved that didn’t you Potter famous Harry potter can’t even go to a book shop without making the front page” the boy says to my brother “leave him alone” ginny says to the boy “oh look Potter you got yourself a girlfriend“ the blonde boy retorts “oh look I think your daddy is come in giver here is he going to save your ass like he did for you last year now stfu before my brother won’t be the only one with a scar on his face” i say to the boy. After i said that his dad comes over and starts to disrespect the Weasley so I say something “ok hi you may not know who I am but you have no right in disrespecting a family just because they are better, stronger, nicer, and way more attractive, Harry can we go now I’m starving“ I say as I start skipping out the door and waiting for everyone else “that was bloody brilliant I mean you didn’t have to do that for my family but I mean really brilliant“ Ron says to me and I begin to blush more and more.

#ron weasley #ron #ron x reader #ron x y/n #harry potter #Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets

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madlymiho · 5 years ago

Note

Hoping my scenario makes the narrow finals!! Ace's former marine love got pregnant from her first sexual encounter with Ace and two years after their training, it is time for reuniting! Their toddler is sooooo eager to meet their father that they try to go right out and find him! Thanks for taking these requests, Miho!!!

Awwwwwww here it comes!!! The cutest moment of this world!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ A rollercoaster of emotions to finally reach this AMAZING TIME 🔥❤️ I’m so glad I met you, my friend. It has been a long and wonderful journey

Since we discussed about it, the little toddler will have a gender, and it’s a girl! 😤💖

Words : 2420

Ace scenario : The moment I became a whole (read after the cut)

His heart is wrenching inside his chest, while he’s looking at the horizon. He has never been so nervous in his entire life. Not even when his crew has been defeated by Whitebeard. Not even when he took the sea at the age of seventeen. Not even when he was on that scaffold, his life about to be ended by the marines. No, he has never felt this way. Perhaps it’s because it’s been two years since he didn’t see her. Two years without a single letters, nor a single phone call. Two years living with the everlasting fear that their passion would be gone for good ; something belonging to the past. They are young after all, barely twenty two years old. At this particular age, there’s nothing to bond you forever to the other one. Ace pinches his lips together, and watches Amazon Lily’s island becoming bigger and bigger, as his ship is about to anchor there.

“Oï Ace, look at this!” Luffy brags while he blows in his hand, creating for the thousand time a gigantic bicep. “It’s really cool!”

“Shut it, Luffy.” Ace rolls his eyes, while he sighs, looking at the cliff just above the natural arbor.

Two years ago, he was with her, right there, still shocked and injured after what happened in Marineford. They made love for the very first time of their life, both of them finally forgetting the many obstacles between their hearts. Ace has cherished that moment every day since he left Amazon Lily, sailing with his young brother to that wild island where the both of them trained harshly until today.

“Do you think she’s still there?” Luffy suddenly asks, right beside Ace, as he doesn’t know he just surprised his elder brother.

“Who?” Ace frowns. With Luffy, there are always so many possibilities.

Luffy chuckles and throws to Ace a playful stare, while he jumps on the barrier of the deck and starts to walk on it.

“The girl who saved your ass, idiot! You love her, don’t you?”

Ace wants to punch his little brother right in the nose, but he’s terrified to answer this question. He doesn’t know. She lost everything during that battle, two years ago, but he can’t tell if she waited for him. Perhaps the marines took her away, when he wasn’t here to defend her. Perhaps she also decided to disappear, too ashamed to face him the day he would be back.

“I don’t know, Luffy. She might be gone,” Ace answers bitterly, swallowing his spit. “She has no reason to wait anyway,”

“Mmmh…,” Luffy closes his eyes, patting his chin. “I think she’s there. She’s your nakama, or sort of.” He shrugs while he jumps back on the deck and starts to exercice, easily distracted by his own mind.

“Yeah, sort of…,” Ace adds for himself, feeling his heartbeat getting erratic as the boat is now really close to the shore.

***

When Ace jumps off the boat, he immediately recognizes and appreciates the general atmosphere of Amazon Lily. The arbor is pretty busy at this time of the day, and Luffy is already lost in the alleys, begging for food, not even paying attention to the rest of the world. Ace chuckles and pushes his hat down on his hair, looking around to see if he spots any familiar faces. The capital of the island isn’t so far, and perhaps that a few warriors under the orders of the empress are here to shop for her. He puts his bundle on his shoulders and starts to walk, looking around to see if he can see anyone, but especially her. After all, the purpose of this visit is to find her lover ; at least for him. The real goal of this mission is for Luffy to thanks Boa Hancock, and for the two of them to get back to Sabaody and meet the rest of the Straw Hat.

“Oh…,” Ace stops walking while he feels something grab his ankle. He looks down to notice a little toddler gripping his boot. “Hey little one, are you lost?”

Behind dark locks, two curious brown eyes are watching him, absolutely hypnotized by his features. Ace can’t help but smile to the little girl, squatting down to have a better look on her round and chubby face. She’s really adorable.

“Are you alright?” He tries again, his voice soft and reassuring.

He has always loved kids, he can’t deny it. And this one looks particularly gorgeous. As an answer, she only extends her hands up in the air, closing and opening them while she gives him the purest smile ever.

“Up!” She orders with her baby voice, and a soft giggle escaping from her throat.

Ace chuckles and tousles her raven hair, before he eventually accepts her request, and picks her up in his arms. As he straightened himself up, he feels her tiny fingers exploring his face, gently grasping his nose and skimming his cheek. It makes him laughs softly, while he notices the many freckles on her pale skin.

“Young lady, are you trying to seduce me?” Ace winks, as the little girl muffles another happy giggle.

“Funny!” She says as her hands fall down on his neck, pulling on the rope of his hat. “Papa funny!”

Ace is a little bit surprised by her statement, feeling embarrassed. He shakes his head and smiles tenderly.

“I’m not your papa, young lady,” he says as he changes her position on his arm, so she can have a proper seat. “But I can help you finding him? Or maybe your mama?”

“Mama!” The toddler positively shouts, her eyes enlightening by the thought of her mother.

Ace sighs, as he starts to walk in the alley, where numerous merchants are selling their products. Perhaps her father is somewhere there? He doesn’t remember seeing someone with freckles among the Amazonians, but there’s still the possibility that the person he’s looking for works on this market. She seems too young to be on her own anyway. He decides that he just needs to ask to the different persons here, and eventually, someone will recognize this little girl.

“Excuse-me!” He calls out to the first merchant. “Do you know who’s she? And where could be her father, or mother?”

The merchant blinks several times, looking at Ace, then at the little girl, while she’s laughing blissfully within his arms.

“I’m not here to play game, Fire Fist…” The merchant answers before he rolls his eyes and turns his back to disappear behind a ripped curtain. Ace tries to call him a few times, but nothing. He tries to another merchant, and another one, but all of them seem pretty hostile and busy, and none of them would give him a proper answer.

“Papa funny…,” the little girl cooes, hiding her nose in the crook of his neck.

Ace continues his researches for at least half a hour, as he starts to feel slightly afraid for this little toddler. Why does he feel that no one take him seriously? He heard many giggles when he asked his questions, and it seemed that all of them knew the girl. After a moment, slightly upset with the whole situation, and the precious time he’s losing, he decides to take a break, as he seats on a barrel and secures the girl on his lap. She immediately pushes her back against his belly, sucking on her thumb, continuing to give him lovely smiles. Ace can’t help but play with her hair, before he exhales loudly. She seems young, but perhaps she would be able to describe her mother? Or her father?

“Tell me, sweetie,” he starts while he cups her jawline and lifts her chin up. “How’s your mama?”

“Fine!” The girl nods as she swings her feet. “Mama is okay!”

Ace giggles and shakes his head.

“No, I mean… Can you describe her physically? Can you tell me how she looks like?”

The little girl frowns, visibility concentrated. She looks at her hands for a second, playing with her pants, before she eventually looks back at Ace with a radiant face.

“Mama is pretty!”

Ace widens his eyes before he massages his forehead, unable to scold such an adorable child for her more than honest answer. She’s trying her best to describe her mother, but all she can think about is that she’s a beautiful woman. And there are a lot of women on Amazon Lily. But since he can’t stay with her forever, Ace starts again.

“Sweetheart, can you describe your papa, now?”

Hopefully, she will understand… Again, she frowns, looking at him with curious and lost eyes, before she tilts her head and points at him with her index.

“Papa.” She just answers, blinking.

“I’m not your papa,” Ace shakes his head, as he puts his back against the wall. “It’s not a game, sweetheart. You have to tell me where are your parents, because I need to go.”

“Go?”

Ace immediately regrets his sentence. The eyes of the toddler are now full of tears, her bottom lip trembling dangerously. Before he can do anything, she turns into an impressive human waterfall, heavy tears falling on her cheeks, her screams desperate and full of pain.

“No, no, no! Don’t cry!” Ace gasps as he pulls her against his chest and rocks her gently. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to hurt you… But you need to understand that I can’t stay…”

“Stay! Stay!” She desperately cries, her little fingers gripping his skin, she’s now inconsolable.

What can he do, now? He tries his best to rock her, but it seems that his words have a real impact on her heart. Perhaps her papa abandoned her? Maybe she’s an orphan? So many questions travel through Ace’s mind. He’s so busy trying to comfort her that he doesn’t notice the silhouette walking in their direction. As the little girl is still a crying mess, a young woman is now standing in front of them, her own heart about to fall in her guts.

“Ace?”

It feels like time stops itself, her soft voice echoing into his soul. Even the little girl immediately stops her cryings, sniffing while she looks up and extends her arm in the direction of the woman standing in front of them. Ace can’t even think anymore. He can’t believe it. It’s her.

“Mama! Mama! Look!” The toddler happily wiggles on Ace’s lap, as the woman bends down to pick her up and kisses her cheek.

Ace doesn’t process at all. He’s all numb, mouth slightly open, his eyes travelling from her lover face to the toddler’s one. Mama.

“Name…,” Ace finally whispers, getting back on his feet as if he has been struck by an electric salvo. “Name, it’s you!”

He wants to hug her, kiss her, to feel her skin again, and have her smell in his nose. To be able to cup her waist and make love to her, but every of his muscle doesn’t move. All he can think about is the fact that she’s carrying a little girl.

“It’s been a while…,” she says, breathless, her eyes a bit shifty. “I was expecting your return…,”

“Mama, look!” The toddler wiggles between her arms, pointing at Ace.

Ace feels his heart wrenching hard. Is it… Really too late? After all, he shouldn’t be surprised. She’s a beautiful girl, fierce and intelligent. It’s perfectly normal that many men want to have her by their side and have a family with her. Yet, for Ace, it feels that he’s being stabbed by thousand knives. He swallows his spit, looking at the ground for a moment, pushing on the edge of his hat to cover a bit more his eyes. He’s so pitiful ; he’s about to cry.

“I should go,” Ace whispers harshly, unable to stay anymore. His heart is broken in many pieces. “It was nice to see you again, Name...”

“Mama, why papa is playing again?” The toddler says loudly, as Ace is about to turn his feet and leave them.

“He...He doesn’t know who you are, sweetie…,” She answers shyly. “Not yet…”

Ace feels his whole world spinning. He looks up, frowning. What is she trying to say right now?

“He doesn’t know that he’s your father yet…” She continues, trembling. “I was supposed to tell him today, but someone decided to run away!”

She turns her head to look at the mischievous eyes of her daughter. The little one only giggles and kisses her mother’s cheek.

“It’s...It’s real?” Ace stutters, making a step forwards. He fights the need to throw up, the surprise kicking his guts. “She’s…”

Name nods slowly.

“Her name is *name*, she’s your daughter.” She pauses, then exhales. “I can’t believe you thought it could be someone else’s child she looks just like you!” She snaps, her impetuous character coming back to the light.

Ace chuckles, still processing, yet, he closes the distance between the two of them. As he looks at his daughter, he can see how much she’s the spitting image of him. Same eyes, same hair, same freckles.

“So… I’m your papa?” Ace asks, still hesitant.

The little toddler just throws herself inside his arms, peppering his neck and jawline with tender kisses.

“Yes! Yes, you papa!” Name chirps, “Mama showed me photo of papa!”

Ace closes his eyes as he hugs her tightly, feeling the tender digits of his lover skimming his arm.

“I showed her your bounty poster months ago. She wanted to meet you so eagerly, I couldn’t prevent her from escaping. She’s a real wild fire…”

Ace looks at the features of his lover, and slowly, he rolls his free arms around her waist, pulling her against his torso. For a second, he only sees the beautiful complexion of the women he loves, before he bends down and steals a hungry kiss, his thumb caressing her back. He feels so many emotions right now, and he can’t even pick one. They slowly part their lips, bliss surrounding the three of them.

“Ace!” A voice calls from the end of the street. “Aceeee!”

Ace notices his little brother running to them, a bright smile blooming on his lips. He waves at him, tears of happiness falling on his cheeks.

“Luffy!” Ace shouts at the top of his voice. “Luffy, come here! I need to present you someone important…”

#one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #portgas d. ace #portgas d ace #ace one piece #ace x reader #one piece hcs #one piece hc #one piece scenarios #fluffy scenario #they are family now #fluffy #takethethirdoption

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 5 years ago

Text

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Twelve

Six months. It took six long months for us to finally reach the place Vince had told us about. We immediately made the place our base. Vince and some others made the decision to see if they could get one of the old docked ships fixed up enough to use. We needed a way to the safe haven after all. If we had a ship we could get far away from WCKD but we had other things to get done first.

I was currently sitting next to Fry watching Jorge and Brenda argue over what was needed to fix one of the jeeps. Over the past six months, I had spent most of my free time with Fry. He’d been there for me on all my bad days and nights. He comforted me and made me laugh. I could feel the two of us growing closer but I was careful to keep the line drawn. As much as I adored Fry I couldn’t give him more than my friendship. Not yet anyway. He knew that and was incredibly good-hearted about it. He had his arm over the back of my chair as I leaned against him.

"We got it!" Thomas and Newt both shouted as they ran out of one of the old buildings.

I jumped at their sudden outburst. The two boys sat down in front of us looking excited and out of breath.

"We found them!" Thomas said excitedly.

The four of us shared a surprised look as we starred at Thomas. We'd completely lost WCKD for months. The trail was completely cold and now they suddenly knew where to find them?

"What did you find?" Jorge asked.

"We got a transmission. There's a train coming threw about an hour or two from here. It's hauling a bunch of the immunes to a new location." Newt said quickly.

"How do we find this train?" I asked them.

"We passed the track on our way here." Thomas smiled.

"So what's the plan?" Brenda asked.

"We'll need a few more hands. I'm thinking Harriet and Vince. Maybe a few more." Thomas said.

"I'll get Harriet," I told him.

He nodded.

"I'll get Vince. Fry and Newt see if you can get us a few more hands." Thomas ordered.

We each nodded then hopped up to do as he said. I found Harriet in one of the buildings going threw supplies.

"Hey H," I said to get her attention.

She looked up at me and smiled.

"Emi, what can I do for you?" She asked setting down the supplies in her hand.

"We found them," I told her simply.

Her smile grew even wider as she laughed.

"Where?" She asked quickly.

"On a train that's gonna pass close by," I informed her.

"What do you need?" She asked walking around the table she was standing at.

"Thomas has a plan but he said he needed a few extra hands. Thought we'd see if you were interested." I explained.

"Hell yea! Let's do it!" She cheered.

Harriet followed me out of the building then back up to where Jorge and Brenda were working on some of the trucks. Fry and Newt were there with about four others. Thomas hadn't made it back with Vince yet.

"Who are they?" I asked pointing at the newcomers.

"I'm Alex," one boy said with a charming smile as he extended his hand to me.

"I'm Emi," I told him as I shook his hand.

"You're Thomas' sister right?" He asked.

I nodded.

"It's amazing none of us realized it immediately. You two look like the same bloody person." Newt chuckled.

“That’s Ashley, Drake, and Eric,” Fry said pointing to the other three.

"Good you're all here," Thomas said from behind me.

I turned to see him and Vince with two other boys. They joined the group.

"Here's the plan. Jorge and Brenda will take one jeep. Vince and I will take another. Brenda and Jorge will be our distraction as Vince and I get on the train. Newt, you and Emi will be close by with torches to get the compartment loose. These two, Daniel and Greg, will be with Newt and Emi for added protection. Harriet, Fry, and the rest of you will be our hidden backup to jack the aircraft they will most likely send in for help. Brenda, you and Jorge will need to lead that aircraft to them. Once you take it you need to come back to the train to get the compartment and us." Thomas explained.

"When is this going down?" I asked him.

"In two days around midday. We will discuss more details once we have all the equipment we need." Thomas said.

We all nodded then went our separate ways to gather what was needed. Over the next day, we went over every small detail of the plan. It seemed we had every possible outcome thought up and dealt with. When the day finally arrived Brenda and Jorge took Fry, Alex, Ashley, Drake, Eric, and Harriet to where they needed to be while Thomas and Vince dropped me, Newt, Daniel, and Greg off to hide close to the tracks.

"Be careful out there," I told both Vince and Thomas as they climbed back in their jeep.

As they drove off Newt and I took cover behind a larger boulder. Daniel and Greg each hid behind their own boulder. Thomas would signal us when he needed us.

"How are things going with you two?" I asked Newt as we sat in the dirt.

He chuckled.

"Pretty great actually." He smiled.

"I'm glad things worked out for you two," I told him happily.

"Thanks Em" he chuckled.

"Are things getting better for you?" He asked.

I thought about it for a second. Things did seem better. I was sleeping threw the night and didn't feel like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I felt like I'd finally made my peace.

"Yea, I'm good. It's been rough dealing with losing him but I've finally come to grips with it. I have enough memories of him to keep me going." I smiled at him.

"Maybe one of these days you can completely move on and give all that love you have to someone else. Maybe Fry.” Newt said softly.

I chuckled at that.

"I doubt it. I may have come to terms with Gally's death but I don't think any other guy, even Fry, will ever be able to make me feel like he did. If I happened to meet a guy who did then maybe but I don't think that will happen." I shrugged.

“What is going on with you and Fry then?” Newt asked.

“We are friends,” I said simply.

“Looks like a bit more than friends to me and Tommy.” Next chuckled softly.

“No, just friends. He’s been there for me while everyone else has been so busy. He did confess to me that he’d like to be more than a friend to me one day but he knows that’s a while down the road.” I explained.

“So he is your friend for now until you’re ready to completely move on?” Next asked with a smirk.

“Yea, sure” I chuckled softly.

A train whistled in the distance instantly gaining mine and Newt's attention. We righted ourselves to wait for the action to begin. We could hear the train getting closer and closer. It was traveling pretty fast from the sound of it. I barely peeked around the boulder to see the engine not far from us.

"Brenda and Jorge should already be close to it," I said aloud.

It didn't take long for the engine to reach us. I couldn't see the end of the train but I knew that was where Thomas and Vince were.

"They're on top," Newt said.

I could see two shadows running across the top of the train.

"They have company," Newt said worriedly.

On the opposite side of the train, coming from the engine, was four or five people running towards Thomas and Vince.

"What do we do?" I asked him trying not to panic.

"Nothing, we wait for Tommy's signal," Newt said slowly.

I watched as Thomas and Vince's figures dropped between the compartments. I could hear shots being fired in the distance then a loud explosion. The back half of the train came to a screeching halt. We stayed hidden until Thomas called for us.

A loud whistle rang out. Newt popped up to check it out.

"Newt!" Vince shouted.

"Let's go! Move!" Newt said gesturing for me and the other two boys to follow him.

We ran over to the train as fast as we could. I could hear Thomas on the other side shouting for Minho. The kids inside the compartment we're shouting back. Newt went to the side Thomas was on while I dropped down on the other side.

I pulled my goggles on over my eyes as I pulled out my torch. I got to work as quickly as I could to cut through the thick metal. Thomas and Vince climbed on top of the compartment to start hooking the ropes together. Daniel and Greg were standing on the ground trying to hold off the WCKD guards.

"Newt, how you doing?" Thomas asked loudly.

"Don't rush me!" I heard Newt shout.

"Emi" Thomas said coming to my side of the train.

"Working on it!" I shouted up to him.

Shots rang out in our directions making me jump. I kept my eyes on the torch but I could hear the bullets hitting the metal all around me.

"Newt! Emi! Get up here!" Thomas shouted.

Daniel and Greg were already climbing on top of the compartment.

"Almost done!" Newt shouted back at him.

"Newt! Go!" I heard Vince shout from the other side of the train.

"Emi get your ass up here now!" Thomas shouted down at me.

I finished cutting threw the metal then shoved the torch back in my bag. I slung my bag over my shoulder as I started to climb up the ladder. The boys were lying down and I was quick to join them as a bullet zipped right past me.

"Where the hell are they?" Newt questioned loudly.

"I don't know!" Thomas shouted back as he tried to shoot down some of our attackers.

The sound of a large aircraft had me and Newt rolling onto our backs as Thomas, Daniel, and Greg kept shooting. The aircraft hovered right above us then the bay door opened. I could see Brenda and Fry smiling down at us as they released the large hook. Thomas, Newt, and I jumped to our feet to grab it.

"Come on!" Thomas shouted as he tried to jump for the hook.

"Lower!" Newt shouted.

Thomas grabbed the hook. He and Newt tried to pull it down faster. When we could we quickly hooked all the ropes onto it.

"Go! Go!" Thomas shouted up to our friends inside the craft.

Slowly the ropes started to lift.

"Vince! Get up here!" Newt shouted.

The compartment started to lift off its frame.

"Now Vince!" Thomas shouted.

Vince jumped grabbing the bottom of the ladder. He climbed up quickly as we rose higher into the air.

"Yea!" Thomas shouted excitedly.

We did it. We actually did it. We just stole a whole damn train compartment full of immunes from WCKD. Damn this felt good.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #gally #gally imagine #gally smut #gally x reader #the maze runner #the maze trials #tmr gally #original character #the trials of emi

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reddielibrary · 5 years ago

Text

everything changes (when the sun goes down)

Written by @richictozicr

Gift for @stansbooty

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Word count: 10,167

Rating: Mature

AO3 Link

Summary: Gifted separate powers from Maturin, the seven Losers are brought together at age 13 and given five years to perfect their gifts before ultimately coming to face the unnamed monster that they call IT. Richie Tozier knows their survival odds are slim, they don't know enough about what they're fighting for it to be any other way, and before the time to face this monster comes and they inevitably die, all he wants is to be brave enough to finally tell Eddie Kaspbrak how he actually feels about him. But his clock is close to running out.

Eddie was waiting for him around the corner of the school, in an alley that was often left empty and secluded. The moment he saw Richie’s bruised face, he gaped at him and moved forward, hands coming out to touch him by the shoulder. The first time Eddie had reached for him like that when he was bruised and injured, he had flinched away on instinct. He didn't now.

“Shit, Rich, what the fuck happened?”

Richie shrugged. “Tyler and his dickhead friends. The only thing that ever happens, really.”

Eddie studied him carefully, knowing there was more and trying to decide if he would get anything more out of Richie if he pressed him. He wouldn’t today and he seemed to know it because he just said, “Okay, sit down then, fuck.”

Richie hesitated and then shook his head. “Let’s just go to the Barrens. Do it there.”

“Your face is fucking blue and black, Richie! What if we run into your mom? What are you going to do then, dickwad? Tell her you tripped and tonight tell her that it just went away? Really? Because if you do that, you better fucking record it because I’m going to want to see that shit go down.”

“When do we ever run into her?” Richie asked in exasperation. He knew he was right, the way to the Barrens was pretty much empty and the odds of running into either of his parents were a million to one. But he could tell by the way Eddie spoke that it came from worry for Richie so he lowered himself onto the ground against the wall for Eddie to work. “Just be fast.”

“I’m always fast,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes.

Richie smirked, unable to help himself, and said, “For whatever girl swipes your v-card, I really fucking hope not.”

Eddie scowled at him furiously. “Hey, asshole, do you want me to fucking do this or not? Cuz you can just stay all swollen and bruised up and gross and shit, won’t bother me.” He stared down at Richie challengingly for a moment and then cupped Riche’s face in his hands, ignoring the taller boy’s hiss at the feeling. Once the initial sting left, Richie tried to ignore how hard his heart was beating in his chest because of the contact, keeping his eyes set on the ground below them.

Richie could feel the tingling sensation of the bruises and split lip healing up and then it was over and Eddie’s touch was gone and, even though he’d just been fucking healed, he felt almost as if he were missing something. “Thanks,” he said quietly, pushing himself to his feet clumsily. Eddie reached to help him, his hands clasping around Richie’s left arm, and Richie looked at him just in time for their eyes to meet. He glanced away quickly, unable to bring himself to hold contact, not when he still had the words that had prompted his dumb ass to hit a bully in the face ringing in his head. Fag, fairy . He hated it, he was sick of it, and standing up to them had been worth the ass-kicking he had gotten just thirty minutes ago. “We should go.”

He could feel Eddie’s confused gaze tearing into him as Richie started to walk through the alley, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It was only seconds before Eddie had caught up to him, which was rather impressive given how much longer Richie’s legs were. “You’re getting good at that,” Richie said, unable to stand the silence between them. "At fixing us up like that."

Eddie offered a half-shrug in response. “It’s been a few years.” Five, to be exact.

It had started with Bill, the year they turned thirteen. His little brother had died horribly, his arm torn off never to be found, and then Bill had heard Georgie’s voice one night when he had gone into his empty bedroom. It kept happening and Bill had thought he was losing his mind with grief until he saw him in the basement. That was Bill’s gift: mediumship or something like that.

Right after Bill was Mike, even though they weren’t quite friends yet. When being nearly run over by Bowers, he had managed to create a force field for himself that had probably saved his life or at least saved him from several broken bones. Stan was next; discovering that he had the ability to leave his body and travel through various realms of existence.

Next to gain abilities had been Beverly. She had sought them out because of her visions, claiming that if they didn’t band together they would all be dead in five years’ time, and so would half the town at least. Eddie had soon after healed Ben from his run-in with Bowers. In the following days, Ben realized he had control over the earth and its properties. Richie was last, much to his frustration.

His abilities had refused to show at all until the day that they met Mike, the day that they became the Lucky Seven. It was immediately following the rock fight when, as Bowers and his crew went clambering back up the hill, Richie had managed to animate a piece of rope that was lying on the ground. It had immediately set itself to tripping Bowers, further humiliating him as he made his exit.

The truth was that life as witches was really not much different from life had been when they were thirteen-years-old. Richie still went to school, hung out with his friends, got his ass kicked either for existing or some dumb comment he had made (granted, his gift of animation also led to him getting himself into trouble when attempting to get back at bullies), and then hung out with his friends some more. The only thing that had changed was that instead of just sitting around reading comics or building dams, they practiced.

They had to be ready was the short of it. Mike, Bill, Bev, and Stan kept reminding them of that, that they had these powers for a reason, that It was coming back. It, that had killed Georgie and several other kids, had been biding its time and waiting but time was almost up. Stan was the one who had initially passed the message along. He claimed that their abilities had been gifted to them by Maturin, that he had called Stan to another Realm and explained that they were the only ones who could stop It.

It and Maturin were ancient creatures from another dimension. There wasn’t an exact word for whatever It was, really, but Bill had taken to calling it a Glamour, after a Gaelic entity, and that fit well enough. It had crossed over to their realm and, while Maturin was unable to follow, he had gifted the seven Losers their abilities so that they could stop It when it struck again.

Richie didn’t understand it and had been very vocal about it through the years, that picking seven kids seemingly at random to save the fucking world or town or whatever was illogical, but the others only ignored him when he brought it up and the truth was he knew it wasn’t important. Illogical or not, it was true and they had to learn how to possibly fight something that they knew nearly nothing about.

Now, he stopped as they reached the entrance to the clubhouse, the main place that they had taken to practicing during the day. At night they’d branch out to the barrens or the quarry, but not usually during the day. He looked up at Eddie through his glasses with a small smirk. “Want me to go first so I can catch you?”

“Shut up asshole,” was the simple response, though the other boy was smiling as he moved past him and climbed down. Richie chuckled to himself as he followed, dropping easily onto the dirt as he turned and surveyed the other losers. They’d grown up a lot over the years. Mike and Ben were both shaped like jocks, though only Mike was out of the two. Ben had a particular disdain for the main coach at school.

Beverly had grown into herself beautifully, and if Richie wasn’t painfully in love with someone else or good friends with someone in love with her, he might have asked her out. She sat on the old hammock now, a cigarette placed between two fingers as one ripped-jean-clad leg hung out of the hammock. Richie easily made his way to her side and she handed him a smoke without a word. “You’re old enough to buy your own as of last month,” she said simply but lit the end of it for him anyway.

“Ah, but yours are so much better Bevvy,” he told her, grinning around the cigarette between his teeth, his hands coming to rest on one of the beams holding it up as he easily swung himself back and forth. “You give them to me with love.”

“I give them to you out of tolerance ,” she replied with a loose grin, putting one booted foot up against his abdomen and pushing a little so that the hammock swung slightly back. Richie laughed and glanced back at the other Losers, bringing one hand down to pull his cigarette out of his mouth as he exhaled the smoke.

“Do we know when exactly we’re all set to die by the way?” Richie asked lightly, leading to Bev kicking him lightly and dropping her foot.

“Beep beep,” she said as she swung back and forth and Richie shrugged his shoulders lightly as though he wasn’t actually fucking terrified that Bev had said they would be dead in five years five fucking years ago.

“I haven’t seen anything,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”

“Then we better puh-puh-prepare,” Bill said, shoving himself off of the wall.

______

It was another month before anything changed and the waiting was easily the worst part. Richie found himself crawling through Eddie’s window more nights than one in an attempt to find some way to get through the night. Sometime this year, they would all die, but it wasn’t his own death he was afraid of. He couldn’t shake the vivid image that Bev’s words had painted that day so long ago, couldn’t shake the image of Eddie bleeding and wounded, impaled over him.

The day it all changed started with a bang. Richie woke up with sunlight streaming into the room and Eddie frantically shaking him to the point that he ended up rolling right off of the bed and crashing with a thud onto the ground. Grunting, he pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked at his friend with a sleepy expression, trying to figure out why the hell he was on the floor instead of the warm bed with the familiar, warm body.

Panic hit him then, panic that he had said or done something to give himself away, that he had spoken in his sleep, said Eddie’s name or something else, or that he had- For a terrible moment, he wondered if he had gotten morning wood but quickly realized that wasn’t the issue.

“We overslept,” Eddie hissed at him, throwing himself out of the bed as well and going to open the window. “You gotta go! Do you know what will happen if my mom catches you here? She will actually fucking combust, okay? She will fucking explode and you and I will both fucking die so I need you to fucking leave.”

Groaning Richie got to his feet and rolled his shoulders back as his face twisted into a grimace. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. We used to have sleepovers all the time, I don’t know why it would suddenly be so bad.” But neither of them said anything to that because they both knew. They knew when Sonia Kaspbrak had become less tolerant of Richie being around the house, being around Eddie. They both knew that it was when whispers and taunts started being thrown the way that he liked boys. That was when she had gone from barely tolerating him to seeing him as too dirty, as something that would infect her little Eddie-Bear . Never mind that they were just rumors, or that he wasn't even gay, he was bisexual (not that Richie actually thought she would think that better). None of it mattered.

Richie opened the window again and slid his lanky legs out of it, leaning back with his hands on the raised window to look back at Eddie. “See you at the clubhouse later, Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie shot back as Richie laughed quietly, blew him a dramatic kiss for flare, and slid out of the window.

He went home, snuck in through his own window, changed clothes to a Rolling Stones t-shirt, an open button-up, and black, ripped jeans. He pulled on purple high tops and then went to the kitchen to eat with his parents. He was doing one of his impressions as his father laughed with the paper open (Richie was pretty sure his parents were two of the only people on the planet who actually read the paper anymore) when his phone beeped with a text.

He slid it out of his pocket and glanced down, his stomach dropping instantly as he saw it.

Bev 8:45 AM: Clubhouse. Now.

The text was rather ominous as it was, but as soon as he saw that it was to the entire group, he felt it. She knew something and all that Richie could do was hope that it wasn’t too late, that nobody was dead yet and, selfishly, he hoped that if someone was, it wasn’t one of the Losers. He excused himself as quickly and subtly as he could, hoping he didn’t look as sick as he felt, and started his trek to the Clubhouse, forcing himself not to cave and go by Eddie’s first.

As soon as he climbed down into the clubhouse, he felt the melancholic vibes, felt the seriousness of it. “What’s going on?” he asked, eyes flickering between them.

“Dunno yet,” Ben said, glancing at Bev, who was sitting on the ground against the wall, her hand shaking as she brought her cigarette to her lips. “Bev wanted to wait till we were all here to go through it all.”

Richie glanced at her and nodded before looking over the others. Bill stood next to Mike and Stan, all three of them pale with eyes set on Bev. Finally, his gaze stopped on Eddie, who was laying in the hammock, face creased with worry and anxiety. He went to stand beside the small boy on the hammock, one hand going to rest at the rope tying it to the ceiling. Once he was still, Bev started to speak.

_____

They were going to die. That was pretty much set in stone, even if no one was going to say it. It was back and they had one day to prepare to stop It. If they didn’t, they would die and it would feast on the town with nothing to slow it down. Bev had seen it all in her dreams the night before, had seen every detail. She didn’t tell them everything, but she didn’t have to. It was easy to see in how pale she was, how she shook as she sat there that it was going to be gruesome and none of their deaths were going to be easy. They would hurt, they would probably be bloody, and they probably wouldn’t end fast enough.

After she had finished, Stan had sat down in a corner and gone into another dimension in hopes of finding something to help them. So far he had found nothing but he seemed determined to keep trying. Richie was sure he would try all through the night.

The entire day was spent in practice, each of them working on their individual abilities, knowing they had to be better if they had any hope. Every so often, Bev would try to take a look at the future to see if it had changed. It hadn’t. They used different ideas of how to work together in both offense and defense, but it was to no real avail from what Beverly could tell.

When Bill called it for the night and told them all to go home and rest, to take advantage of time with loved ones, it was clear. This was a classic “last night on earth”.

They went separate ways, no one setting out to walk entirely on their own. Ben and Richie went together, hands in pockets as they wandered down the darkening streets. It wasn’t until they reached Richie’s block that Ben spoke up. “You should tell Eddie,” he said, voice scratching a little as it left his throat.

When Richie dared to look up, Ben’s eyes were settled on him and they shone with that determined look that Richie had always admired in him. He considered playing dumb, but it would be stupid. The truth was, he and Ben had never sat down and had a heart to heart about their individual pining, but they both knew. They bonded over it, somehow, even with the reluctance to speak of it. “I dunno,” he said quietly instead, feeling more cowardly than he ever had before.

“I’m gonna tell Bev,” Ben said finally. “I’m going to go home and call her, invite her over, let her hang out with me and my mom. My mom loves her, you know? And then… I dunno, after Mom goes to bed, I want to tell her.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders with a small smile as Richie gaped at him. “I have nothing to lose, right? If we’re going to die tomorrow… I want to die with my cards on the table.”

Richie felt like the ground had dropped out below him, unsure of what to say or even what to think. What would it be like to not harbor that secret? It was too difficult to imagine, too foreign. It was hard to remember a time that he wasn’t yearning for Eddie, that he wasn’t trying to act like every touch didn’t make his heart skyrocket in his chest.

“I think you should too,” Ben said softly, watching Richie with an empathetic look that said he understood. Richie knew he did.

“It’s different,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It’s more complicated.”

He almost expected Ben to get frustrated, maybe tell him that love was love or some shit. Instead, Ben gave him a sad smile and said, “I know.” And something about those two words of confirmation actually made Richie feel better. Maybe it would be easier if they didn’t live in Derry, if Eddie’s mom wasn’t so prejudiced and hateful if the odds weren’t that Eddie was fucking straight. “But he looks at you too.” Richie stopped in his tracks, staring at Ben as if he had just spoken Klingon. Before he could even think of a response, Ben just smiled and patted him on the shoulder before going into his house.

Rich walked the rest of his way home alone, hands in his pockets, and when he got home, he ate with his parents and watched them as if trying to memorize their movements and the way they spoke. He watched his dad do a terrible Cookie Monster impression in an attempt to get Richie to lighten his mood, and he succeeded a little bit, though not enough to make them think nothing was wrong. Even Richie didn’t have a real cover to hide behind tonight. In the morning, he would go to meet the Losers to get ready and he may never see the two people who had raised him again. And nothing about that thought was okay.

He stayed up with them until they headed for their room at about ten o’clock, his mom pausing to kiss the top of his head and brush his cheek with her knuckles. He turned around, arm resting on the back of the couch, and watched them disappear from view. He sat there for another fifteen minutes before he made up his mind. He pulled out his phone and sent Ben a quick text of Thanks and then went out the front door.

By the time he was outside of Eddie’s window, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to follow through, if he would be able to tell Eddie the truth, that he had been in love with him since he knew what love was, but he knew that if he was going to die in 24 hours he wanted to spend this last chance for quality time with him at his side. It didn’t take long at all for him to realize the window was already opened and with a small flutter of his heart, he wondered if Eddie had done that purposefully in hopes he would come over. With the help of the once again animated tree, Richie hoisted himself into Eddie’s bedroom window into the dark room.

He landed ungracefully on the floor and when he looked up, he saw Eddie sitting on the edge of his bed with a small smile of amusement, dressed in a light purple t-shirt and checkered sleep pants. “Nice landing, Rich,” he said dully. Richie grinned up at him and crawled to the bed, pulling himself up to sit beside Eddie, only for Eddie to push him back onto the floor. “Hey, Rich, you’re still in your clothes you were in today and they’re filthy. We were in dirty water and dirt and Ben’s powers literally are controlling dirt, do not put your dirty ass on my bed and will you stop fucking grinning at me? I’m serious and I’m getting you clean clothes to sleep in.” He was still muttering about Richie’s filthy clothes and how he had half a mind to make him shower before letting him anywhere near his bed. Richie sat on the ground with a grin and leaned back on his hands.

Then Eddie stood over him with folded pants and a shirt in his hands and an expectant quirk of his brows. Richie got to his feet and took the clothes from him, watching as Eddie went to lay in one side of the bed and picked up his phone, the light of his phone shining against his face and against the headboard... Richie hesitated for a brief moment before shrugging off his overshirt and tugging off his t-shirt. He replaced them quickly with the clean one of Eddie’s and then unbuttoned his jeans to pull them down and off his hips. Before he could, his eyes lifted and he realized with a jolt that Eddie was looking at him, his features illuminated by the light of his phone still facing towards him. Richie couldn’t read his expression to save his life, especially since the moment that their eyes met, Eddie flushed and looked away, taking away any opportunity for Richie to figure it out. He pushed his jeans down most of the way and kicked them off the rest of it before pulling on the sleep pants and crawling into the bed beside Eddie.

As soon as Richie was in the bed, Eddie put his phone away and rolled over so that they were facing each other, the only sound in the room the quiet breathing between them. Richie found himself overwhelmed by the desire to reach out and touch Eddie’s cheek, to pull him into his chest and hold him like he hadn’t dared to for years. Eddie touched him first, causing Richie’s chest to contract around his furiously beating heart.

Eddie brushed his fingers over the glasses still on Richie’s face, tracing the frame all the way to Richie’s ear. It was suddenly very hard to breathe and Richie was forcing himself to, wondering if it sounded labored or not, not daring to take his eyes away from Eddie’s, not even daring to blink. “You left your glasses on,” the other boy whispered into the darkness.

The look on Eddie’s face was one that Richie hadn’t seen there before, he was pretty sure. There was something open and hard to read about it all at the same time, his eyelids lowered as he stared at Richie’s face, his lips parted just a little, just enough to be the biggest temptation Richie had ever faced in his life. He couldn’t even hear Eddie’s breathing it was so shallow.

“All the better to see you with my dear,” Richie croaked out in the best Grandma voice he could possibly do with Eddie this close and looking at him like that. Eddie snorted and carefully pulled off Richie’s glasses, the taller boy lifting his head off the pillow to help him. It was an intimate movement, Eddie’s hand brushing over Richie’s face carefully and, even without his glasses, Richie could see the care that Eddie folded them with before setting them on the nightstand.

“Ben’s telling Bev he’s in love with her,” Richie blurted, not even sure why. Part of him thought that it was to try to get the courage to tell Eddie the same thing, but part of him was thoroughly convinced that there was no way he’d find the courage at all.

Eddie nodded his head slowly, his hair brushing over the white pillowcase as he did. God, Richie wanted to run his hands through it in a completely non-platonic way, just once in his life. He wondered briefly if Eddie would say anything if he tried. “I thought he might,” he whispered back.

“Would you?” Richie asked softly, amazed at how strange his voice sounded, how unlike his own. “If you were… in love with Bill?”

Eddie stared at him then as if he had turned into a frog. “If I was in love with Bill,” he repeated dumbly and it almost sounded like he was giving Richie a chance to correct himself. Richie, however, had no idea what to say and, given how close they were and that they could die tomorrow, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his question so he just nodded.

They looked at each other for a long moment then, Eddie’s gaze disbelieving and borderline annoyed, Richie’s a numb surprise that might have been at his own statement or at Eddie’s response. Finally, Eddie groaned and whispered, “You are the smartest dumbass I have ever met”, cupped Richie’s cheeks, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He didn’t even feel surprised, Richie would notice later when he looked back on it. It felt too right to question it. Richie kissed Eddie back with fervor, his hand fumbling to cup the back of his neck and pull him in closer to him, suddenly frustrated that he was laying on his left arm. But it was over before he could free it, Eddie not even an inch away, lips still parted just like earlier (though now slick with saliva), eyes still closed. Richie took in the sight, his own breathing so shallow that he was surprised that he was getting enough oxygen at all.

He slowly brought his hand from the back of Eddie’s neck to his cheek, thumb tracing over his jaw gently, wiggling his right arm out from under him and reaching up to take one of Eddie’s. “I was gonna do that,” he whispered.

“You took too long,” Eddie murmured, slowly opening his gorgeous brown eyes. “And then you started talking about Bill and I just-” Richie cut him off, kissing him deeply and passionately with a low hum.

Eddie surprised him again, taking charge quickly as he ran his tongue over Richie’s bottom lip, which encouraged a moan from the taller boy. Seemingly spurred on by the response that he received, Eddie moved his hands to either side of Richie’s waist and rolled him onto his back, climbing on top of him and straddling him easily without breaking the kiss once. Richie made a muffled sound of surprise into his mouth, one hand coming to rest at Eddie’s hip and one finally burying itself in Eddie’s hair.

Eddie made a sound that made something low in Richie’s gut coil and all he could think about was getting him to make that sound again. He wrapped his arms tightly around Eddie’s waist then before flipping them over so that Eddie’s back landed on the mattress, prompting another low groan from the back of Eddie’s throat and Richie smirked into the kiss. But then Eddie was parting from it and they were staring at each other and Eddie’s pupils were blown with want.

“Is it okay if we… just do this tonight?” he whispered finally.

Richie blinked in surprise before saying, “Yeah, Eds, I didn’t even-”

Eddie cut him off before he could finish, “I just- I want to. I really want to, but I also… God, I want us to have… I don’t want to die before I get to have sex with you and so maybe…”

Richie felt himself grin a little as he finished, “Maybe we’ll stay alive then. So we can.” Eddie flushed and nodded, looking embarrassed. “You’re so fucking cute,” Richie whispered, reaching down to pinch at Eddie’s cheek. Eddie was fighting back a grin as he smacked Richie’s hand away playfully. “You know what? I think that’s pretty fucking smart.” Richie ran his fingers carefully through Eddie’s dark hair before using his hold there to tug him lower. “But c’mere and kiss me some more before bed, hmm?”

With a wide grin, Eddie leaned up, pausing with his lips a tantalizingly close distance from Richie’s, his hands coming to the hem of Rich’s shirt. “What do you think about having a little more contact though?” he whispered, lips almost brushing against Richie’s.

“I think you’re a fucking genius,” Richie said with a grin, leaning up to pull off his shirt. When his eyes fell back to Eddie, the smaller boy was in the process of doing the same and then his shirt landed on the floor somewhere next to Richie’s. He was tempted to make a joke about Eddie’s mom, just to cut the tension, but he found it impossible to speak when he was suddenly able to look at Eddie like he had been wanting to for so fucking long. He slowly traced his fingers over the lean muscles of Eddie’s abdomen and sucked in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes meeting Eddie’s hungrily. The other boy looked just as affected, just as lustful, his hand on Riche’s chest as well, and then they were kissing each other again, more desperately than before.

They spent most of the night like that, kissing, touching each other, whispering things like “We’re gonna make it”. By the end of the night, with Eddie in his arms and their chests pressed against each other, Richie almost believed it.

_____

Eddie’s alarm was the first thing that Richie heard in the morning, and he spent about five seconds trying to ignore it before he remembered what that alarm meant and what today was. He forced his eyes open and blinked hazily at Eddie, who was curled into him, head dipped into Richie’s chest, his breath tickling the skin and hair there. With some difficulty, Richie reached over and fumbled to find Eddie’s phone without disturbing him. When he finally got the alarm to stop, he pulled his arm back carefully, bringing his hand to cup Eddie’s jaw lightly as he let his eyes roam over his sleeping form.

His shirt was still off, his pants hanging loosely on his hips, revealing the curve of the bone beneath it and making Richie’s throat go dry at the sight. He let his other hand go down to Eddie’s hip and carefully rested his hand on it, his fingers tracing his hip bone in a feather-light touch. Eddie twitched a little in his sleep and Richie froze his fingers, looking down at his form as he wrestled with himself, knowing he ought to wake him up, that they had alarms set for a reason. He wanted to stay like this, to feel Eddie against him like he might not get to again, wanted to take in the sight. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous for taking so long in the first place.

He slowly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple, letting his thumb rub circles just above the hem of his pants. “Morning, Eds,” he whispered softly, ducking his head to nose affectionately at the skin. There was a soft mumble of response as Eddie burrowed his head further into Richie’s chest. Richie carefully ran his fingers through Eddie's hair, leaning down to kiss his temple again. "I really would prefer us to stay here but…"

Eddie made a soft sound and pulled his head away from Richie's chest so he could look up at him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Shit, right," he half mumbled, stretching carefully. He slid his hand to the back of Richie's head and carefully tugged him down and kissed him softly on the mouth. When he parted, Eddie’s eyes looked a little bit more alert as he looked back at Richie, his fingers still going through his dark curls. “Should have done this sooner.”

Richie closed his eyes and found himself leaning forward, letting his forehead brush lightly on Eddie’s. “Yeah, I know.” He leaned forward and kissed him again, slowly, adoringly, before parting and whispering reluctantly, “I need to go home… Before my parents get worried… I can pick you up on the way to the Clubhouse?” Eddie nodded slowly, his forehead rubbing a little on Richie’s as he did. Slowly Richie reached past him and took his glasses from the nightstand, sliding them onto his face with ease.

It was with severe reluctance that Richie slid out of bed and worked his way out of Eddie’s sweatpants before pulling on his jeans. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw brown eyes watching his every move intently. Eddie’s eyes were dark with lust and he looked unashamed to be caught looking, though his face was turning redder by the second. Richie grinned and buttoned his jeans before sliding back onto the bed, cupping the side of Eddie’s neck as he kissed him deeply. The kiss was returned with a forcefulness that before last night Richie wouldn’t have expected, but he knew now.

He had to force himself away so that he could pull his shirt on before pulling on his socks and shoes. He felt Eddie rubbing his back and closed his eyes as he leaned into it, letting out a soft hum. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he murmured quietly.

Eddie pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and whispered, “I know. I’ll see you then.” Richie turned and caught his lips in a quick, soft kiss before getting up and crossing to the window. He glanced back and looked at Eddie for a long moment as if he might never see him again which was ridiculous because they were going to see each other in a few hours and surely wouldn’t die before that. But all the same, how could he act like it was just another day? Like there wasn’t a reason they had finally had the courage to be honest with each other?

Forcing himself away, Richie climbed out of the window.

The morning was long. It was hard to pretend to be normal with his parents that morning, but Richie did his best, probably even better than he had done the night before. He laughed at the jokes from his dad, shot some back in return, did the voices that he knew they liked the best. And then he hugged his dad and kissed his mom on the cheek before leaving the house to get Eddie, trying to distract himself from how heavy his heart was as he did.

Getting Eddie was easier though and he felt a little bit more able to make himself think that they weren’t about to die tonight. Mrs. K opened the door when he knocked and Richie channeled all of his nervous energy into being the obnoxious kid that she knew and hated, instantly saying, “Hey-o Mrs. K! Top o’ the mornin’ to yah now! I’m here to collect Eddie, I am! We have important business of which to attend, yah see!”

Her eyes narrowed in that way it did when she was about to say something nasty, but before she could Eddie was shouldering past her. He paused to kiss her on the cheek and say a quick ‘bye mom’ before grabbing Richie at the elbow and pulling him down the walkway.

“Ah, yes, must be going now! Chop chop!” Richie said loudly as they rounded the corner. He could almost see the stink eye that he was getting through the tree and side of the house.

Eddie ducked his head, his lips curving as if trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to turn it to 150% with her every time, you know. She already doesn’t like you.”

“Aye,” Richie said, not dropping the accent until he continued, “but that’s just because she knows how much I like you.” He tossed his arm around Eddie’s neck and pinched at his cheeks. “Cuz you’re cute! Cute cute cute!”

Eddie made a strangled sound and leaned his entire body away from Richie, smacking lightly at his side as the taller boy’s arm dropped. “I hate it when you do that!”

“No you don’t,” Richie told him with a smile. Eddie failed to hide his own warm smile as he set his eyes on the sidewalk beneath them, instead of reaching out to intertwine his fingers with Richie’s.

As soon as they got into the Clubhouse, Richie’s eyes went to Stan sitting on the ground, eyes glazed over as he leaned his head back. By this point, it hardly took even a second for Richie to recognize that his friend was traveling astral planes. He glanced at the others wearily in a silent question. Without needing words at all, Mike said, “He’s getting information, he finally started getting stuff this morning. So far he’s figured out where It is. Under the house on Neibolt, in the sewers.

Eddie groaned and muttered, “Of course it is. Fucking disgusting.” Richie felt his lips quirk in the corner and reached out to take his hand again, not caring about the other Losers. He wasn’t sure if it was Last Day On Earth mentality or simply how long he’d wanted to do this, but he found it hard to care and judging by the way Eddie was gripping his hand in return he didn’t either.

It was only then that Richie noticed Bev positioned between Ben’s legs on the hammock, her head on his chest as they swung idly back and forth. Good for them. Richie caught Ben’s eye and smiled softly, offering a small thumbs up that made Ben laugh a little as he returned it.

They didn’t stay idle for long, quickly falling into their individual training exercises. Richie, Mike, and Ben moved to practice at the Quarry as they often did, and when they returned, there was a collection of weapons on the ground between their friends. It was a good idea, really, given that of the gifts, Richie and Ben had the most aggressive ones among them, but the sight of the weapons still filled Richie with an uncontrollable sense of dread. Maybe it was the reminder that this thing they were doing really was so dangerous to require things like an old machete, a fire poker, and so on. If they needed that stuff, they were really in deep shit.

When the sun started to set, the Losers climbed out of the Clubhouse and headed for the Neibolt house, all still on their bikes instead of cars, even though several of them owned cars now. Part of Richie had always thought the preference for bikes was because they reminded them of the days when they were younger and five years felt like an eternity and even with these new gifts they’d felt safe.

None of them felt safe when they got to the house. Even Richie was quiet as they moved inside until the smell hit him and he made a wisecrack about Eddie’s mom’s underwear drawer that led Eddie to elbow him lightly in the ribs and offer a week, “Beep, beep, Richie.”

Stan led them down, below the house, into the Derry sewers, where It apparently lived. “How do we find it?” Ben asked, glancing around their surroundings wearily.

“We won’t have to,” Stan breathed. “It knows we’re here.”

Sure enough, none of them had even taken a step before a red balloon started floating towards them, eerily slow and quiet. Richie couldn’t even hear the sounds of his friends’ breathing, or maybe he was so scared that he just couldn’t notice. The balloon came to a stop about half a foot in front of them, spinning around in a circle. On one side, the first one to face them, it had I ♡ Derry and then, as it turned, they saw You’ll Float Too printed clearly on the other.

The balloon popped with a crushingly loud sound that echoed all around the cave around them, but the sound was a thousand times better than the blood that flooded out of the balloon and rained over them all, drenching even the rocky ground below them. Richie wasn’t even sure that that was the worst part because they were still dripping, only seconds after that fucking balloon exploded when a sickening, clown laugh rang out.

There were two things that Richie had always been scared of. One was werewolves and the other was clowns. But no clown was as terrifying as the one that was now visible at the opposite end of the cavern. Richie reached automatically from Eddie’s hand, struggling to grip it when they were both still soaking with blood that they had all forgotten about.

The clown darted, gone just as suddenly as it had been there, though the laughter still filled the cave. The Losers gathered in a circle, back to back, all but Richie and Ben gripping the weapons tightly. A shield slowly grew around them, thanks to Mike, and Richie felt like he could breathe just a little better. Until the clown reappeared in a new spot but it quickly started to change. Its arms shook and stretched, its hands becoming claws that landed and dug into the ground in sudden claws.

Then It grew , sprouting up and up as new claws sprouted out of his sides. It became some kind of new thing as if a spider with claws for legs had decided it was a good idea to mate with a clown. It started to come towards them, each step making the floor of the cavern quake with such a force that Richie nearly fell over.

One claw came right down on the shield with such force that there was a sickening crack and all of them stared up in surprise. Nothing had ever been able to harm one of Mike’s shields before, nothing. But then there was another direct hit, right where the first had been, and a terrible, deep crack appeared in the top, like a crack on a hard contact lense.

The cavern ceiling started to shake, pieces of rock falling towards the monster. It was Ben’s doing, clearly, most likely in an attempt to distract It, which only worked when a large chunk hit it in the head, finally silencing the ringing laughter. “Mikey tuh-take it down! We’ll spuh-split up!” Bill screamed over the chaos as It lifted its claw again.

No sooner had the shield come down that It dove its claw right in their center, all of them throwing themselves away from it just before being impaled. Richie pushed himself up, eyes scanning the area for any sign of Eddie, relief filling him when he finally saw the other boy pushing himself to his feet stubbornly.

“Is everyone okay?” Eddie screamed out, but the only result of the question being asked was It turning its gaze on Eddie. It was in the same sickening moment that Eddie and Richie each realized that Eddie had dropped his machete when leaping from the circle.

Eddie jumped out of the way just in time, rolling away fast enough to put feet between him and It. Richie quickly sprang to action, animating the machete that had been dropped to the ground. The weapon sprang up, standing on the handle before spinning towards the giant monster and sinking itself into Its shoulder. The monster screamed, the sound echoing out of that terrible clown head but it quickly turned into that horrific laugh instead, the head swiveling to look right at Richie.

Richie backed up quickly, nearly stumbling over himself as he did, watching the thing take a step towards him, the claw sinking through one of the pieces of the ceiling, dividing the large clump of rock as if it were nothing at all. The same bit of ceiling suddenly twitched and Richie felt himself smirk, knowing already what was happening.

The rocks flew upwards towards the belly of the beast, splitting ways before reaching him and flying around and above him, only to clamp down on either side of his vicious, ugly head. “Yeah, Haystack!” Richie yelled, tossing his fist into the air.

The beast roared, stomping backward as it reeled from the blow. Richie saw what was about to happen just seconds too late to open his mouth, saw Stan on the ground behind the beast, staring up at it, just before the claw went piercing right through his friend’s left shoulder. Stan screamed and Mike and Bill both lurched towards him. As soon as It pulled its claw from Stan, Bill and Mike each took a side, pulling Stan to his feet as carefully as they could. He yelled out in pain that sounded so real and tormented that Richie felt his heart stop in his chest, his eyes glued to his oldest friend. Finally, he tore his gaze to Eddie. “Go!” he yelled, nodding after them. “They need you!”

Eddie hesitation lasted for such a brief period that if Richie didn’t know him so well he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Then he gave Richie a nod and ran back towards the tunnel. Richie saw It start to turn towards the others making their move to get Stan to safety and hollered, “Hey, dumb ass!” It turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing, and Richie took that opportunity to grab the machete off the ground and throw it as far as he could, the enchanted weapon doing the rest of the work for him as it zipped towards the monster and hit it in the face.

Richie paused briefly before darting into the tunnel himself, half sliding and almost certainly skinning his side fiercely under his shirt. He pushed himself up, not even feeling it with the adrenaline pounding through his body. He saw Mike throw up a force field and exhaled in shaky relief, quickly shrugging out of his flannel and tossing it to Mike, who added it to Stan’s wound a top of another overshirt that looked like Bill’s. “How’s he doing?” Richie panted.

“Hanging in there,” Stan grunted hoarsely. “Wh-Where’s Bill?” His voice was weak enough that it made Richie feel like he might be sick, but he fought it back.

“He said he saw Georgie over there,” Eddie said, nodding towards deeper into the tunnel. He knelt down beside Stan and lifted the shirts to get a better look at the wound. His face twisted into an expression of such concern that, for the first time, Richie wondered if Eddie’s powers would be enough.

“Bill,” Stan grunted and Mike squeezed his right hand, looking desperately for someone to go get the seventh Loser.

Richie swallowed and nodded. “I’ll go.” He jogged down the tunnel, almost pausing when he heard the laughter echoing from behind him, in the cavern. He pulled to a stop beside Bill, who was crouched on the ground in deep conversation. Had Richie not seen Bill’s powers in use so many times by now, he would have thought his friend had lost it. “Bill? Stan wants you, I- Fuck, Bill, it’s so bad, I don’t know if Eddie can-”

Bill held up a hand and then nodded once at whoever he was talking to before looking up at Richie with worried eyes as he got to his feet unsteadily. Richie threw out a hand to help him up. “He has to if we have any ch-ch-chance,” he said unevenly. He didn’t stop to explain, instead of leading the way in a run to the others.

Stan didn’t look quite as terrible, the blood that had initially been coming from his lips had dried and wasn’t being replaced so Richie took that to be a good sign. Bill fell to his knees on Stan’s side opposite Mike and looked around at them. “Juh-Juh-Georgie and the others,” he said, half panting. The stitch Richie felt in his side from all of the running and diving of the last hour didn’t blame him. “They s-s-said-” He closed his eyes and took a long breath to steady himself, a long moment that the claw beating against the wall of the force field with sickening thuds and an occasional crack said they didn’t have, and said, “It’s from the other dimension, ruh-ruh-right? Its cuh-core is still there. That’s how we kuh-kuh-”

“That’s how we kill it,” Beverly finished slowly, her eyes lighting with sudden realization. “We need Stan to go kill it.” She closed her eyes and Richie knew she was scanning their future for change.

“It’s an e-e-egg,” Bill managed to get out, eyes flickering from Bev to Mike and then back to Stan. “It’s tethered by its o-own egg.”

Stan nodded, even as his eyes were half-lidded. “If it’s in its lair that would be why Maturin never knew.”

Mike shushed him in a gentle tone, hand cupping his cheek as he glanced at Bill again with worry in his eyes. “I’ve never held it under this much weight. It’s too strong, the field’s gonna come down any minute.”

“Using his powers is going to take a strain on him,” Eddie gasped out as the claw hit the side again and this time Richie could see the crack, like a sliver of a crack in a hard contact lense. “I think I’m going to have to keep the wound from reopening.”

Richie nodded, looking at Ben with a heavy exhale, a question in his eyes. Ben gave a single nod and lifted a hand, his eyes fixed on something behind It. “Ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Bev scuffled with something on the ground before lifting with the fire poker. “I’m going to help you distract It. If Stan dies, we all die.” There was only a second’s hesitation on Ben’s face but then it was gone and he nodded once. Bev moved closer to him, her hand rubbing from his arm to his shoulder, whispering something that Richie didn’t even try to hear. He was sure it was private.

Richie caught Eddie’s gaze, noticing how scared the smaller boy looked. Eddie didn’t have to say it, he knew on his own that it was for Richie’s well being out there more than his own. Richie offered him a small smile that he hoped was comforting and got a weak one in return. Stan nudged Eddie lightly on the knee and nodded towards Richie. Eddie got up and moved to Richie, going to touch his face but pausing due to the blood on his palms.

“Be careful,” he said quietly.

Richie opened his mouth to make a wisecrack but closed it again before he could. He took in Eddie’s worried, tired, dirty face and said, “I love you.”

Eddie stared at him for a long moment, as if he couldn’t believe the words, or maybe he just couldn’t believe the timing. But then he lurched in and kissed him, purposefully keeping his hands from touching Richie. Richie reached out and took both of Eddie’s hands in his anyways and squeezed them as he kissed him back. But it was over too soon and Eddie whispered, “I love you too.” And nodded at him before pulling his hands back and kneeling down beside Stan.

Bev looked at Mike and nodded as if to tell him they were ready. Mike watched her for a long moment before turning his gaze on Ben and Richie as well. “Be careful. I’m going to throw up the shield again as soon as I can, so give us a warning if you need-”

“Just do it!” Richie half yelled, watching the claw thud again and the crack grow an inch.

“3,” Mike said, glancing at Ben. Ben curled his fist and a rock behind It slowly lifted and suddenly Richie understood. “2.” They watched it go higher. “1.”

The rock dropped and It screamed again, turning its head to look behind it. The field dropped and the three of them bolted outside, splitting up to take different sides of It. Ben had rocks flying, Bev occasionally climbed up the side of the cavern to scream at It to get its attention and sometimes throwing whatever she could, and Richie animated every weapon they had dropped that he could see, anything at all that he could see.

One of those fucking claws went flying towards Beverly and she leaped from the wall, tumbling onto the ground. Ben and Richie both shouted her name in unison until they saw her clamber to her feet. It became preoccupied, trying to pull its claw back out of the wall, as Bev darted away quickly. “I’m fine!” she shouted back at them.

“How much longer?!” Ben shouted towards the tunnel.

“He’s been in there a while!” Mike yelled back to them. “But we don’t know!”

Richie exchanged looks with Ben, easily catching the exhaustion on the large boy’s face. He felt it himself and he could see it in Beverly as well, could see it in the way she was moving just a little slower than before. “Come on, Stan,” Richie breathed to himself. “Bevvy, how we doing?”

“What, you want me to check now?!” Beverly shouted back, sounding like she might laugh if the situation wasn’t so fucking dire. Because even though they were getting exhausted, It wasn’t. It was just getting angrier, but its energy wasn’t lessening any as far as Richie could tell.

“Come here, I’ll cover you!” he shouted back. Beverly nodded once and sprinted to him, sliding to her knees behind him. Richie glanced around the cavern desperately, eyes finally catching on an old, rusty sheet of metal peeking out of some of the rock. It had probably been buried down here long ago. It animated to life quickly, wiggling its way from the rocks, though Ben saw what was happening and pulled the remaining rocks away from it. The sheet metal flew in front of Richie and Bev just as Its attention had gone to them.

Its claw, of course, pierced right through it, but it slowed the momentum enough to stop Richie from being impaled. It bounced around, continually blocking blows until Ben managed to get Its attention fixed back on him.

It was a few minutes of that when It smashed a rock thrown its way and its claw went barrelling towards Ben. The metal shot to him, slowing the blow by taking it long enough for Ben to dive out of the way. “Bev?” Richie half-shouted desperately, but her name had hardly left his lips when she appeared at his side.

“It kept changing until the end,” she panted. “But-”

She didn’t get to finish. It screamed, a terrible, deranged sound, and curled in on itself. One claw pierced the ground with such force that half of it vanished into the earth, but It didn’t seem to notice. It was still screaming and actually deteriorating. It fell apart, bit by bit, and they could see shining light beneath its flesh.

“- have to get in there!” Bev’s voice finally broke through Richie’s stupor, bringing his gaze over to their shielded friends. The force field was going down, Richie realized, and it was only then that he realized what was happening. Beverly grabbed his hand and they both ran to the entrance of the tunnel, meeting with Ben a few steps away. They dove inside once it was lifted enough and then Mike slammed it back down.

It was just in time. It exploded with a shriek and the light-filled the entire caver, so bright that it almost burned Richie’s skin even through the shield. Bits of the monster hit the shield, looking so disgusting that under different circumstances Richie might have hurled.

Instead, he just fell to his knees and then arms were around him and he felt Eddie’s forehead pressed against his own and heard Eddie’s exhausted whisper of, “We did it, Rich. We did it. We’re all alive. It’s over.” Richie brought his own shaking hand to cup the back of Eddie’s neck and sighed with relief.

____

“We had to be there,” Stan explained tiredly in response to Richie asking why they had had to go in the first place if killing it was in a different dimension altogether. He was leaning against Bill’s shoulder with Mike leaning on his. The three of them looked picture-perfect sitting like that in front of the Quarry, Richie thought.

Ben was sitting on the rocks, leaning back on one arm with Bev’s head in his lap as she lay on her side, looking at Stan as he spoke. Richie, for his part, was holding Eddie stubbornly on his lap against his chest, perched on a log with his own chin settled on Eddie’s shoulder.

After the battle had ended, they had all sat in the tunnels for what had probably ended up being an hour, laughing and crying and holding each other. Stan was going to be fine, he healed up fine once it was over, once he was able to relax and let Eddie help and wasn’t straining with his powers. Then they had gone to Bill’s and all fallen asleep together spread out across Bill’s bedroom, no one, not even Eddie, bothering to shower, though they all pretty much wrestled each other to go first in the morning. Once clean and fed, they had all gone home, reassured their parents that Bill had had a crisis and needed their help, and then met up in the Quarry where they were now.

“We had to be there,” Stan repeated, “because I travel astral planes, not locations. I could never have done that if we hadn’t been in the lair or if we hadn’t located It. It had to be there for the egg to be in reach and we had to be there to find It, do you see?”

Richie hummed in approval and tilted his head to kiss Eddie’s clothed shoulder before looking back up. “So. Is Maturin like our Charlie now?”

All of the Losers stilled and glanced at each other as if at a loss before Ben finally asked, “What?” with a laugh in his voice.

“Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?” Eddie asked with a slow blink as he turned to look at Richie.

Richie smirked and laughed, shaking his head. “No. Charlie like Charlie’s Angels. He’s this secret voice only Stan met who told us what to do and guided us through saving our whole town. Uh, hello? I think we’re basically super witch spies now. Super hot witch spies.”

Eddie was the first to start laughing, curling in on himself from laughing so hard and Richie grinned, gratified. The rest followed quickly, even Richie. “Beep, beep, Richie,” Bev managed to get out, shaking her head as the laughter subsided.

“I’m just saying, if we do this too often he ought to pay us or something,” Richie said, only to be beep-beeped again by Bill. Eddie was gazing up at him with adoring amusement and Richie just beamed right back, leaning down to kiss him long and deep enough that the other Losers started howling, whooping, and groaning dramatically.

It was hard to care though, and even Eddie didn’t seem to if the way his tongue was halfway down Richie’s throat was any indication. They had lived and, more importantly, they were together. So what could possibly dampen any of their spirits now?

#reddie #halloween event 2019 #richictozicr

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writerben01 · 5 years ago

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Project Sneak peek – The Uchiha Platoon

I recently posted Time to Soar and one of the things I remarked is that I finished it before I started posting. That’s because I have experience in the past of starting things and posting as I go along. Eventually I get stuck and lose my drive to finish. I don’t want to change what I’ve already posted, but I usually don’t figure out I need invasive structural changes until I’m further along in the story. And I have so god damn much anxiety about writing something when I know people are waiting for an update, which does not help with creativity. And then the longer it takes for an update, the more anxiety I feel about it.

So, as a compromise between posting a beginning and feeling like it’s set in stone and staying quiet about a project I’m passionate about, I want to talk a little about current works in progress.

Starting with The Uchiha Platoon.

The Uchiha Platoon is my largest project of which I have not shared anything yet. After six years, it’s close to 200k and it’s a time travel fic about Sasuke going back in time to save the world. So, a retelling of canon Naruto featuring bad-ass Team 7. Sasuke acts as a teacher and picks up on all the training that Kakashi is not doing.

Sasuke also adopts Naruto and Sakura and lets them live in the Uchiha compound. He ropes Kakashi into it as well and ends up leading a revolution for the poor, disenfranchised and other groups that Konoha has forgotten about. Bit of politics, bit of fighting, lots of team bonding. One of the key turning points is when Naruto says he does not want to be Hokage, because just saving the people of Konoha isn’t enough for him anymore.

Sakura starts at canon level of weakness and quickly gets boosted in power so that I could try to keep the whole team fair and evenly matched. But since canon tones her down a lot, I’m trying to overcompensate in the fanfic. Not sure I’m always succeeding and it’s something I actively have to keep in mind.

All the chapters are structured the same way. First a small scene snippit from Sasuke’s future and then actual content. I try to keep these thematically relevant, but honestly, they’re mostly there to showcase the kind of people Naruto and Sakura turned into and what their dynamic was like.

Basically, this story is a power fantasy. It’s all about getting strong really quickly and using that strength to kick ass and help others.

Completion status:

I’m three chapters away from writing the ending. I’ve written 16 chapters so far, with bigger and smaller scenes missing, which leaves me just after the Invasion arc and right before the time skip into Shippuden. So I’m about 40k words away from an end, probably 50k away from finishing. That’s just one NanoWrimo, but it’s so hard to sit down and finish. Especially since Shippuden is going to benothing more than inspiration and it’s just a matter of taking my overpowered babies and having them crush Akatsuki in one fell swoop. With very little plot to guide me. And a very vague ending I’m working towards. Help.

Stray trivia:

- There is a dungeons and dragons scene, as a roleplaying version of mission training.

- There is a chapter called ‘Calm before the storm’, which I like a lot because a few chapters later there’s a chapter called ‘The storm’. *gasp* Foreshadowing.

- Sasuke gets around a lot of problems by keeping secrets and then being very truthful about hiding things. It is so easy to deflect with ‘trust issues’ when the older brother you loved more than anyone in the whole world supposedly betrayed you and everyone else you cared about.

- Future Sasuke was known as the Architect and he was able to create jutsu as he needed them. There’s some background on making a jutsu being like programming, and mapping it to hand seals and a name to involve convincing the universe that they belong together. There’s like a tribunal that Sasuke gets to summon if they don’t respect his reputation. So anyway, making ninjutsu is very technical, with a little bullshit for naming.

- Meanwhile seals are the opposite. There’s some basic theory for setting them up, but each component is supposed to be art. It’s all about expressing yourself. Which I think fits better with a Naruto who is not book smart but very intuitive and able to learn from patterns and experience. In short, it’s a little technical, but mostly bullshitting. As long as you believe it, it’s true.

- Sasuke is asexual, but not aromantic. Pairing for the fic is Naruto/Sasuke/Sakura.

- There was supposed to be a small chapter between the Wave mission and the Chuunin exams. It honestly got away from me and is now about four chapters all about the bonding of team 7 and them really getting together.

Scene excerpt (Chapter 2):

When Naruto and Sakura introduced themselves, it was a lot like Sasuke remembered it. He was pleased Naruto didn’t look at him when talking about the things he hated and it was strange how much he appeared to care about ramen. Well, not that strange because, hey, it was Naruto. But still, Naruto was so much more than just a ramen fan. He was loyal and kind and hard-working.

Sakura answered. Just like Naruto, at this age she hardly knew anything about herself. Sure, she liked Sasuke, but in her career as a ninja, she had learned her worth. She liked succeeding. She liked helping others. She disliked having to depend on others. It was one of the reasons why she had been drawn so much more to Sasuke than Naruto. Naruto, as broken as he was, always seemed fine. Sasuke, however, had been a loner in the academy who had all but screamed for people to help him.

And then three people stared at Sasuke, waiting for his own introduction.

“My name is Sasuke Uchiha, of the great Uchiha clan, masters of the legendary sharingan. I like it when things fall into order and I respect strength. I dislike laziness, and people who give up. As to my dream, there is someone I want to kill.”

Naruto and Sakura tensed, but Kakashi just gave a knowing look. The man thought he knew exactly who Sasuke was talking about.

“But I cannot do that by myself and I do not want to do it by myself.” Sasuke looked at Naruto and then at Sakura. “Ninja work best in teams and I want this one to be the best. Konoha has produced some great shinobi but none as great as the sannin. A woman with a temper, but a chakra control so perfect that she could destroy the Hokage monument with a single punch. A man that goofs off sometimes, but has his heart in the right place and a power to back up his words.”

Kakashi was looking a little strangely as Sasuke’s implication became clear, but Sakura voiced the thought fully. “You’re talking about Jiraiya-san and Tsunade. But then… you want to be like Orochumaru?”

“An intelligent man with a skill in ninjutsu that would have achieved unheard of heights if he had remained loyal to Konoha.”

Naruto looked confused as the tension in the air thickened.

Sasuke simply held up two fingers. “Two years is my goal. Naruto, Sakura and I will surpass the sannin in two years.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at that in disbelief, but once again Sakura actually voiced the thought. “Sasuke-kun, you want us to become as strong as the legendary ninja in two years?”

“No, I want to be as strong as they are in two months, but you have to be realistic in these things.”

Naruto, bless him, was smiling now, holding up a thumb at Sasuke’s attitude. “Sannin in two years, Hokage in four. That sounds about right.”

Sakura swallowed, but then nodded with resolve. “Become stronger than the best kunoichi the village has ever produced in an impossible time limit. Sounds like a challenge, but I always perform best when on a deadline.”

Kakashi was chuckling a little, before laughing out loud. “Lunatics, all three of you.” He leaned a little closer, still smiling below that mysterious mask of his. “This is going to be fun.”

#TheLionWrites #Naruto #Naruto fanfiction #Fanfiction #UchihaPlatoon #LionWritesSneakPeek

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maximusthewolfe · 6 years ago

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Peaches and Plums | 1/?

Back in Fillory, present day, Eliot struggles with the rush of memories from a life he apparently lived, even though he didn't. But there's a quest to be finished, a kingdom to be run, and a world with no magic to make it all infinitely more difficult. So what's a High King to do when flashbacks won't stop and Quentin just wants to move forward?

I wanted to play with all the empty spaces from THE scene in A Life in the Day, and explore the fallout from it in the present world that never really got shown. I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3

“Just give. Me. A minute,” Eliot said through gritted teeth, irritation sharpening the edges of his words until they cut effortlessly.

“Babes, look, we don’t have a minute. I need you to get your shit together now.”

Margo’s voice matched his abrasive syllable for abrasive syllable, but Eliot kept the heels of his hands pressed firmly to his eyes. She was right. The quest was waiting. Their kingdom was waiting. Somewhere in the castle, Quentin was waiting. When had the weight of not one, but two entire worlds suddenly landed on his shoulders? And when had he decided he was okay with carrying it all? He may have been miserable at Brakebills, but sometimes he missed the simplicity of burying his misery in drugs and drinks and warm bodies willing to occupy his senses for an evening.

“Can’t magic save itself for once? Let its merry band of idiots take a breather?” he said. His swift answer was Margo prying his hands from his face, an unforgiving look in her eyes.

“What the fuck is this, El? It’s your goddamn quest, you roped me in. And you know I’ll do anything to help you out here because fuck if I don’t miss magic more than that purple vibrator I left in the cottage, but I didn’t ask for this. Any of it. Do you see me moping over some lost past that probably sucked ass anyway? I mean, you apparently died, right? Sounds like a fuckin shitshow to me,” she said, hands on her hips, standing her ground, as always.

Her voice echoed slightly in the high marble ceilings of the throne room, only serving to add to the power of it. Margo had always known how to command a room. Or in this case, an entire castle. Eliot shook his head, a mess of dark curls flying from the places where they stuck out around his crown. “I know. Down, Bambi. I get it.”

“Well,” Margo said, tapping her gorgeous pointed toe boot on the floor, “What I need you to GET right now, is your ass in gear. Q’s called some sort of all-questers-on-deck meeting.”

Eliot groaned his disapproval but stood from his throne anyway. She was right. Margo was almost always right. But she had missed one fine detail. He wasn’t mourning the loss of a past he couldn’t remember. It wasn’t all lost when Margo stopped them from going to the mosaic in the first place. Oh no, not by a long shot. He remembered everything. That was the problem.

“Let’s go see what our sweet, depressive Potter thinks we ought to do next,” he said, raising a hand in protest even as he followed Margo out of the throne room. “Which, I take issue with, by the way. His incessant need to be the big man in charge. This quest was bestowed upon me, technically, and he keeps hijacking it.”

Eliot pretended not to hear the words of the Great Cock ringing in his ears. You have a brother of the heart. With the floppy hair. This quest was just as much Q’s as it was his. It might have been theirs – both of them – more than it was anyone else’s.

“Weren’t you just complaining about not wanting this thing?” Margo eyed him carefully, clearly uninterested in putting up with whatever rabid mood swing was overtaking him.

“Well, yeah, but I want the option of not wanting it, you know?” he said airily, twirling his hand above his head as though that elegant, meaningless movement explained what he meant.

“Oh fuck,” Margo rolled her eyes, “Can you not be a teenage girl for two seconds here?”

Eliot huffed, but he quieted and followed the path to the fairy-proof hallway, linking his arm in Margo’s. When they turned the corner, Eliot caught sight of Quentin pacing back and forth, hands twisting in front of him, long hair creating a curtain over his face. He could practically see the concentration on the younger man’s face, the way his forehead scrunched up, eyebrows practically in his hairline. He was trying to work something particularly difficult out, Eliot recognized the look in an instant.

****

And suddenly, he wasn’t in the pale stone hallway convening with the other questers anymore. He was outside a small hut, staring at piles of tiles around them, looking up to catch that same concentrated, problem-solving look etched onto Quentin’s face in a different world, in a different time, in a different life.

“Um – so,” Q started.

"Yeah,” Eliot paused, understanding what he was trying to say before it was said, “Um… Let’s just save our overthinking for the puzzle, yeah?”

A beat passed where Eliot’s heart was practically in his throat, and then Q nodded. “Yeah.”

And that was that, or so he thought.

The mosaic itself was increasingly frustrating by the day, but they still worked at it diligently, documenting each failed attempt and starting over again. And again. And again. By the end of the day, they were both exhausted, and by the end of this particular day, Eliot was especially exhausted. He’d been doing his best to follow his own advice, to save his overthinking for the puzzle, but it was difficult when he kept catching vivid glimpses of the night before in his mind.

He watched as Quentin moved through the little hut, anxiety coming off of him in waves as he filed away the drawings from the day according to some intricate organizational system he’d made up, and Eliot had let him run with. He’d thought he’d had a pretty good handle on all of Quentin’s… Quentinisms before they stepped through the clock and into this past version of Fillory, but the level of familiarity every tick, every look, every sigh now held in his heart only proved to him that he hadn’t known as much about the younger man as he’d assumed. So, it was unsurprising to the former (or future? Time travel had never really made sense to him) High King when Quentin looked in his direction with those big, worried eyes.

“Hey, El?”

Eliot blinked away the interest in his amber gaze and replaced it with practiced nonchalance. “Hmmm?” he hummed in response.

“You ever think about what’ll happen if we don’t figure it out?”

The fear in Quentin’s tone was poorly masked, even to the ears of someone not as well trained in emotional avoidance. Eliot’s immediate instinct was to diffuse.

“No, not really. That’s not how this story goes, Q. You’re the hero, and the hero doesn’t die halfway through the quest,” he said dismissively.

“Well, the hero also generally doesn’t kill a God and get magic turned off in the first place, so,” Quentin retorted, “I’m not sure the usual literary epic rules apply here.”

Eliot paused, elegantly wrinkling his brows at his…. friend? Fellow quester? Brother of the heart? Man he kissed and then some the night before? Quentin may have had a point, but if they couldn’t count on fairytale rules in this fairytale land, well, then what was the fucking point of it all?

“So we’re playing parts in Homer’s Morally Gray Odyssey. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Yeah, but what if you are?”

“Then I try to be right again tomorrow. We don’t have a lot of choice here,” Eliot said finally, sighing heavily.

“Huh….” Quentin’s unspoken anxieties were enough to drive Eliot completely mad.

“Come on, out with it,” he prompted, waving at the space in front of him. “The floor’s all yours.”

“No, it’s, it’s nothing.”

In lieu of rolling his eyes so hard he gave himself a headache, Eliot replied, “Convincing.”

“It’s just – “ Quentin’s hands were headed for his hair, a nervous tick Eliot had learned to recognize long before they’d spent a year with almost solely each other. “I know we said no overthinking last night –“

Eliot held up a hand, shaking his head as he stood. He tucked in the olive green fabric of his shirt that had been pulled loose in the movement. “Stop. No, nothing good can follow that sentence. And no offense, but I think I’m about up to my tile-riddled brain in ‘nothing good’ for the day.”

He’d woken up that morning with an impressive amount of hope in his heart for Eliot Waugh. Quentin was lying beside him in bed, his own arm draped protectively over Quentin’s waist. It was something he’d never really been able to stop himself from doing, protecting Quentin. Even when it came at the cost of his own destruction, it was a fee he would pay a thousand times over. In the morning light, Eliot was quite certain he’d never seen anything as beautiful as the peaceful planes of Quentin’s face awash in the golden-pink of the sunrise filtering in through the window. It struck him in that moment how rarely he saw the younger man looking at peace. The calm on Quentin’s sleeping face then was a stark contrast to the intense anxiety that had clouded his every feature nearly as soon as he woke up.

One year. It had taken one year for Quentin Coldwater to break his heart again. But the way he’d looked at him after remembering the previous night; the way he’d practically jumped, and then almost fell, out of bed, tucked his hair anxiously behind his ears, dressing quickly and insisting on getting to work had done the trick. It took everything Eliot had to give him the out earlier that day, he didn’t think he could bear to drudge it back up in order to allow the younger man the space to verbally hammer the final nail in Eliot’s extremely premature coffin.

“El – “ Q protested, but Eliot sauntered away in the direction of the kitchen.

“Seriously? Can we not Quentin this to death, please?” he said, his voice betraying the exhaustion he felt at the prospect of having to listen to Quentin detail all the ways in which he was “really great, but…” That was typically his speech to give.

“Eliot, for fuck’s sake, would you let me finish a goddamn thought for once?”

Quentin had followed him into the hut’s tiny, primitive kitchen. The forcefulness in his voice caught Eliot off guard. With considerable effort, he stopped himself from speaking again by biting his lower lip from the inside and crossing his arms with impossible grace over his chest. He arched an eyebrow in a sort of challenge for Quentin, conceding him the floor.

“Oh, um. Okay. I didn’t think you were really going to –“ Quentin must have caught the exasperation that swept into Eliot’s gaze, because he corrected himself quickly, “Right.”

“Look, I just – I’ve been thinking and I know that all of this,” his hands flailed around him, trying to encompass the hut, the mosaic, and the time they’d stepped into in one erratic gesture, “Is just, y’know, not at all what either of us expected. And I dunno, it’s a different world, but it’s also not? And you’re still Eliot and I’m still Quentin and I just think that’s something important. That’s something you should know, you know?”

“Q….” Eliot interjected cautiously. Biting his tongue had never been Eliot’s strong suit, but he did his best, motioning for Q to wrap it up, smirking to mask the small spark of hope that had ignited in his chest. It was foolhardy, Eliot knew, but something in the tone of Quentin’s rambles shifted the day’s despair in him slightly.

“What I’m saying – what I’m trying to say is – we’re here. And it’s familiar because it’s Fillory, right? But it’s also totally not because it’s Fillory like, forever ago, and we uh, we don’t know HOW long we’re gonna be here. We could figure this out tomorrow and I dunno, I just mean, if we did, if we do, I don’t think it would uh, I don’t want you to think it would change the fact,” Quentin’s sentence sputtered out there, his left hand raising from the place it had settled deep in his pocket and coming to rest on the back of his neck, his elbow jutting awkwardly out from his side.

“That I – I want last night to happen again.”

A hush fell over the entire hut. In the heavy silence, Eliot’s heart took Quentin’s words and used them as lighter-fluid drenched kindling, growing the spark of hope into a wildfire that propelled him forward. He reached out his arms so that his hands cupped the sides of Quentin’s face a full three seconds (damn long limbs) before the rest of him did, and pulled the shorter man up to him, dipping down to meet him somewhere in the middle, their lips crashing together far less gracefully than they had the night before. He felt Quentin’s arm drop from the back of his neck, felt the uncertainty in the other man’s body as Eliot kissed him like he was the only viable source of oxygen in the room.

When Quentin had started rambling, Eliot wasn’t sure what to expect, but it damn sure wasn’t the confession he received, and if this was a quick lapse in mental clarity brought on by the stress of another unsuccessful day at the mosaic, he wasn’t going to miss his moment. Eliot’s long fingers tangled easily into Quentin’s hair, and after a moment where Quentin’s entire body tensed against the sudden contact, Eliot felt him relax into it, felt Q’s hands wrapping around his waist, hands sliding up his back. They stayed that way for several minutes, Eliot’s tongue hungrily exploring the younger man’s mouth until finally he pulled away but kept his hands on either side of Quentin’s face.

“Done overthinking it?” he asked, a slow, playful smile spreading across his kiss-swollen lips.

Quentin looked dazed, eyes bouncing back and forth between Eliot’s as though searching for some sign that this was all a joke to the older man. He would find no such evidence. After a long moment, seemingly satisfied with his search, Q smiled, mirroring the joy Eliot could feel emanating from his own face, and lifted onto his toes to close the space between them again.

#the magicians #queliot #fanfiction #magicians ff #the magicians ff #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #3x05 #a life in the day #queliot ff

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kaiju-z · 6 years ago

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Seon Adventures - Episode 6, “Welcome to the Jungle and That’s the Tea”

Another great episode for us, the group /o/

When we last left off with our heroes, the five of them, Kevin and Killer the War Horses, and Azam had left the ship upon which they shared many unforgettable memories (no matter how much Luck wants to forget some funny and TRAUMATIC TM stuffs).

As Azam ran off ahead of everyone, the party felt themselves envigorated, like they went up a tier in the ladder of adventuring or something (they leveled up) and were now left to their own devices.

Their travel from the docks to the city itself was short as they soon came to realize that Menum was a city of trees. Which is to say that those, who made this rainforest their home had repurposed a number of ridicilously large trees into houses and establishments of various necessities. (Think Return of the Jedi).

Belli and Luck were the most easily impressed, as they are basically the sheltered kids. The more they travel, the closer they get to the center, illuminated by what those of the arcane could gather were Dancing Lights. (I personally assume it’s bio-luminescence from the plantlife surrounding them).

Lead by Mournimar and Belli, the disaster siblings, the party go for a high rise tavern, climbing a rope ladder with much acrobatics in tow, being drawn to the sound of people chanting.

“CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!”

What they find up top is entertaining, to say the least. A new initiate, it appears (we later learn his name is Samson) is chugging down some sort of alcoholic drink, much to the amusement and pressure of his fellows. Some sailors from the ship, others local citizens and Forestheart Bretheren, it seems.

While Mournimar and Belli join in the chanting, Luck searches for information from the bartender, upon the party noticing Azam drinking away his woes. While ordering an ale from the wood elf barkeep, Luck asks some curious questions of the Traveling Gentlemen and learns that four of them passed through here (confirming what Mournimar had told him previously on the ship of their even number now). From what he gets, he now knows that they got on bad terms with the leader of the Forestheart Bretheren and promptly made their leave, after searching for some artifacts.

What lastly he learns of them is that their next destination was the Capitol, Crystalgate. So Luck will have a lot of backtracking to do, if he hopes to get to them soon. He later joins Azam and continues a conversation from the ship, post-prevented execution.

While this is going on, Samson takes a knee. Or. Well, a back as the drink was apparently too much for him. In the merryment, Mournimar orders himself the same thing and is warned that the stuff, Centaur Moonshine, is very heavy stuff. Much to Belli’s protests and failed attempts at preventing disaster, Mournimar starts chugging and Belli tries to get help from an exhasperated Amelia.

To her chagrin, once she arrives, Mournimar is just. Out of it. Burk is proud (Proud Burk count: 1). Amelia ends up carrying Mournimar to a backroom for a few minutes, where they also see a passed out Samson.

Amelia does not have a good time in Menum, sadly and she doesn’t get a wink of sleep either, even after getting a room to yeet Mournimar into. She takes a corner, after Luck takes a second bed. (MISUNDERSTANDINGS WERE HAD and now Luck feels awkward over the disappointed MOM ENERGY from Amelia).

While the others are nap-nap-napping, Belli sneaks out and in search for someone with two silver rings. She reaches an establishment, bounced on by a tattooed Goliath, with whom she has a conversation, hinting at her relation to Ficus. She needs to learn more about his whereabouts, she misses her brother.

Being let in, she soon finds someone the Goliath had directed her towards, a changeling woman around Belli’s age (IT WAS KIT FROM THE SLEEKCLAW ONE SHOT!) and the two have a heart to heart about Ficus, with whom Kit had worked in the past. Kit gives her directions on where she’d have to go next, if she truly wants to reunite with him and the two go their own way, once they are outside. (FRIENDSHIP GET). Belli safely makes it back to the tavern and gets her shut eye.

In the morning, awkwardness between the pointy boys and Amelia. Burk was sleeping the whole time out in the open and had a close to cordial conversation with an old lady that was more confused than freaked out by the Goblin Barbarian (Gorbarian TM).

Once most of everyone reconvenes, Luck buys the lot of them lunch (including for Burk, which I’ma say he ate in canon, unless Hayden says otherwise). The party get approached by Samson, who introduces himself as such. Samson Drascullion, druid of The Forestheart Bretheren.

The party begins to ask him some questions, following a failed attempt to extort him for money (Belli and Luck, the greedy kiddos tried to bs poor Samson so hard) regarding the cult and elaborate on their quest to take the cult out of commission, permanently. Mournimar learns that they worship all the allowed deities, which confuses him. Why aren’t they worshipping the forbidden ones instead?! Samson and Luck respectively have to point out something: Samson, that the cult believes their mission to kill everyone (PAINLESSLY, YOU GUYS) is just and therefore pray to the “good” gods; and Luck that it wouldn’t make sense for them to pray to Potencia, as she is the one you call upon for ruthless action, punishment and imprisonment.

The hooved tiefling has to step away from the table at this point, because he’s very upset. Turns out that this cult had no connection at all to the one he was after, personally. Belli approaches and the siblings share a moment in front of everyone else present, revealing things about their backstories.

Mournimar spills the beans about how he was raised n a cult, worshipping the Forbidden Deity “Potencia”. Goddess of ruthlessness, control and imprisonment His mother was a member, but his father faltered. The mother told on the father and the cult attacked. Mournimar doesn’t remember much after that, but he woke up, covered in blood, surrounded by bodies. His mission from that point on was hunting down all those, who worshipped Potencia and rid the world of them.

He tildn’t want to tell Belli, because he was affraid she’d stop being so close to him. Belli’s opinion of him, however, hasn’t changed as she still loves andcares for her tall pointy “bro”.

And she reveals to everyone of her family’s tragedy, how they were turned to stone in her absence, how she tried to pray for all the gods, including the forbidden ones, Potencia especially, for help, to save them.

But she got no answer.

Mournimar doesn’t think less of her.

The two hug it out. It’s heart warming.

Burk. Has heard. None of this as he was still on ground level when this transpired.

After everyone ate, the party and Samson made a stop at his leader’s base of operations, where Samson got an ok, in private, for the lot of them to have a swing at the Death Cult, with the caviat that the FHB would come a few hours later, should they not be done with this.

Taking the war horses with them, the six adventurers made their way to the stronghold of this cult. Luck even got to bond with Kevin, thanks to Mournimar’s approach : D It was nice and Luck is now just embarrassed. That and he was carried onto Kevin’s back by Belli.

Traveling through this dence jungle, they quickly realize how warm and humid it is in here, as they pass through shrubbery and trees, by animals and what not. Luck is bascally the only one, aside from Samson, who’s got this, since he comes from a warmer climate.

They succeed on their strealthing to the checkpoint of the stronghold and see it in it’s full height of 40 ft. With guards atop, none the wiser.

As they plan on their next move, Belli suggests and implements her infiltration, using invisibility and quickly comes to realize how screwed th party would have been if they just blindly walked in.

Aside of the guards on top, there were at least tw more towerds of archers and a table of four, with one just staring in the direction of the door itself.

Belli sneaks on forward and goes through an opening and down a coridor, on the right of which she passes a guard, just sitting, none the wiser. While she can’t find traps, she does find the courage to take the man out and she does so in a few good rounds of stabbing and blufing him into believing that the “Prophet” willed it to be so., with advantage, thanks to invisibility and then, the mask she had collected from the half-elf from where this whole adventure started.

After looting the body, something good, Belli gets to look through further doors and finds 5 men, 3 red robed, 2 black robed, in what was essentially a break room. She manages to trick thm into believing that the wind opened the door and quickly locks them inside, before proceeding and learning of underground activity, including more multi-colored robed cultists, two minotaur and their leader, handling some bizarre orb.

She quickly comes back to the party and things get wild in a hurry, once she explains the situation to them. (Also. Proud Burk count: 2)

Death-ites bodies begin to drop left and right (and to pieces), with Burk gaining the 6 person kill count, above the rest. The rest do great, especially Amelia and Belli, considering Amelia’s disadvantages on rolls, what with 1 point of exhaustion.

Mockery is quite viciously dealt by the bard and Mournimar fires their arrows like a baller, missing only rarely. Episode 6 marks Luck’s first kill in the campaign as he works to break in his new daggers , taking out one greenlit Redguard, before divestabbing a second, (with Amelia finishing that one off ultimately). This episode also Marks Luck’s first use of the Lucky feat, (1 of 3 uses for the day), in which he gets bad luck and misses his target with the crossbow.

Even Samson gets into the spirit of things and takes and kicks some ass, using his druidic abilities as needed.

By the end of the fight, all the grunts on level oen are killed in a variety of gruesome ways, but one, who escapes in the jungle, where he’ll either die to the wildlife or rethink his life choices.

Mournimar almost died. Seeing Belli getting attacked by archers, he took a jump from 40 ft to get close to Belli and took a lot of damage, which didn’t help when he got shot at by the archers.

Don’t even wanna think what would have happened if he had no potions to chug and healing help from Samson @ - @;;;

The bodies were then, of course, looted and the session ended with the party thinking of a gameplan to proceed. (and the 5 of us dorking around with the scribblign feature).

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iamtaekooked · 7 years ago

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Something like love || jjk

Genre: Fluff, cop!au / police officer! au

Word count: 8.4k

Synopsis:

It was meant to be a regular day at the hospital. That is until you get kidnapped in broad daylight. Meanwhile, the famous detective Jeon Jeongguk who also happens to be your best friend, just wanted a normal day free of world’s bullshit, but he couldn’t even have that.

A/N: Police officer Jungkook anyone??? idk about you but I needed it. Let me know your thoughts and feedback!

MASTERLIST

8:15 am “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T BE TREATED LADY?” You see a man pointing a gun at one of the nurses as soon as you arrive at the ER to start your day.

“Sir, I am going to ask you to put the weapon away” she shifts back hands poised in the ready position. “Hey asshat” you yell, catching his attention, just enough for one of the security guys to tackle him and restrain his hands. Soon enough 3 gruff looking men enter immediately beginning to shout their protestations upon seeing the man handcuffed. “You. White coat, help him. Now” says the shortest of the bunch as he walks towards you. He looks more like a cartoon character than someone associated with the mafia. The balding patch on his head, the protruding beer belly, and the thick French accent only helps to affirm the image in your mind. The tallest of the three men nods in agreement.

“No” you reply firmly, maintaining eye contact with both men, allowing your eyes travel between the two of them.   “What did you say bitch? Do you not see this gun pointed at you?” The man aiming the weapon at you speaks, as he clicks off the safety. An action meant to scare you. “Or what?” you fold your hands over your chest, waiting for his response. The lean man with blond hair walks towards you, each step predatory. The look on his face says it all and if he could he would have his way with you right then and there. There wasn’t anything stopping him, yet he had a reputation to uphold. “Such a pretty little thing. Its a shame” he breathes onto your face, and all you can smell are cigars. Your heart beats frantically against your ribcage, the loud vibrations reaching your ears. “Take her Cain” he gestures with the gun to the third man. He comes up behind you, and ties your hands with the rope, while everyone watches stunned. “Shall we?” The guy with the blond hair winks at you, as the other man hauls you up on his shoulder despite your frantic kicking in the air, and punching. He walks in the front while the other 2 men follow behind him. You trail after them, hauled up on the man’s shoulder. On his way out the man with the blond hair points his gun at anyone he sees, and laughs as they flinch back. Deranged and psychotic you think. He’d make a perfect case for the psychiatric ward and they would have a field day with him. However you are surprised that not a single cop car is waiting outside. You wonder if anyone present at the scene even called the police. You were screwed if they didn’t. Its a kidnapping in broad daylight, and Hoseok couldn’t care less.

11:00 am   The bar is empty, silent except for the sounds coming from the tv. “Hey Coby. Usual for me” Jeongguk takes a seat on the barstool as the bartender named Coby makes him a drink. He wipes the glass before pouring the whiskey in and sliding the glass towards Jungkook. He grabs hold of it and lifts it to his lips, chugging down the drink in one breath and slamming the glass back on the table. Taking his phone out, he swipes across the screen as he sees at least 50 missed calls from his chief. The name ‘Insufferable Git’ flashes across the screen as he slides the phone back in his pocket with a strained sigh. “Rough night?” Coby asks him, and he nods while gulping down his second glass. “You remember that whole deal about the Cassidy guy?” He leans forward, considerably lowering the volume of his voice, in case anyone was lingering around. He wasn’t exactly in a profession where he could afford the luxury of talking freely. People could be watching him, waiting for the right chance to pounce on him. “Jog my memory. I am getting old,” the middle aged man says, mirroring Jungkook’s posture as he leans forward. “He kidnapped that 3 year old girl, the daughter of Mr. Magnolia…” he searches the older man’s for any sign of recognition and then his eyes light up. “Oh yeah. That one. What ‘bout it?” “Caught the guy.” the smug look on Jeongguk’s face doesn’t escape Coby’s notice. Rightly so, after all he is the most famous detective in town. Famous enough to get shot at three times in broad daylight and survive. The first time it happened was at a supermarket. It was the most unsuspecting moment, even for a guy like him who watched everything with hawk eyes. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, and luckily enough it didn’t hit anyone. The second time it happened right outside of the police station. It was the bravest thing he has witnessed, but stupid too because of course the guy got caught. The third time was a week ago, in the middle of the busiest part of town. Lucky for him, the fates yet again supported him. He only got by with a scratch. Being famous had its perks, because everyone knew him. He was the named as the most desired bachelor in all of the country, but he couldn’t care less. He didn’t even attend the celebration held in honour of that. For he was busy raiding Cassidy’s place and ensuring the guy would be locked behind bars for the rest of his life. “Well hey. Only you could have done it. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know where this city would be. Next one’s on me” Coby begins to shake up another drink for him, while Jeongguk yet again tries to diffuse his superior’s efforts of getting a hold of him. He doesn’t really care for anything because he needs a day off. He needs a day to drink all of his stress away. He places his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes it out with the intention of throwing the phone across the room. But his hand stops mid air as he sees his sister’s name flash on the screen. He picks it up with a sigh, his sister not even waiting for a response before she launches into a rant. “Jeon Jeongguk! Do you know how worried we have been for you? We thought something had happened to you. You did not pick up any of my calls. I told you, check in periodically. Is that really so hard to do? I am not asking for anything big here--just a damn text saying ‘ok’ would be better than nothing at all asshole! Why can’t you do that?” She sighs heavily into the phone and he suddenly feels guilt wash over him. “Me dying is always a possibility. You know that” he says casually. “I do. But still stop being a dumb shit and do what I tell you to. Got it?” “Got it. Now are you calling for something other than just checking up on me?” He asks with a roll of his eyes because he knows his sister very well.   “Oh yeah. Your chief called my number. Says he wants to talk to you. Sounds important.” His initial response is a deep sigh, and a drop of his head on the bar counter. “It’s always fucking important.” He whispers into the phone, feeling deflated because he can’t even get one fucking day of rest. After all he has done, he feels he deserves this much, but he knows its his duty too. Its a compromise. “What?” His sister asks on the other end since she missed his remark. “Nothing. I’ll call him back. And stop worrying about me. I’ll check in later. Promise” “That’s all I am asking for baby brother.” His sister sighs into the phone and it makes him smile because he knows there will always be one person watching over him, while he watches for the safety of others. She’s the reason why he can do his job well.

“Take care. Love you” “Yeah. You too.” The dial tone rings and he puts the phone back in his pocket. He grabs his jacket from the back of the stool. He leaves several bills on the counter as he exits the bar, ready to head to the station.

“50 missed calls. Do you know how much can happen in 50 calls? A whole city could get blown up. You know that right Detective Jeon?” The short bald man glares at him furiously.

“Yes, sir” Jungkook replies, eyes trained on the ground and hands folded behind his back, robotically answering his boss's dramatic antics. “I know you are popular man. Swarmed by people all the time, wherever you go. Hell its warranted because you have saved more people than I can count. But keep your head in the game son. We all need you. This city needs you” he pauses. “But right now a certain doctor needs you”

His brows furrow in suspision as he meets the eyes of his chief. Doctor?   “Don’t stress that brain of yours. Let me explain before you say no” Being famous had another perk. Jeongguk was allowed to choose his assignments, unlike every detective sharing the same position as him. “8:15. General Hospital, this morning. Jung Hoseok and his gang arrive at the ER, Doctor refuses treatment and he kidnaps her. Broad daylight. A care aid gets shot in the leg, not to mention the patients in the waiting area terrorized out of their minds. He’s reaching for it, but someone’s gotta set his ass back down. I recommended you for the assignment.”

It doesn’t even seem interesting. Its a simple kidnapping. Anyone else could handle it. There is nothing thrilling about this, and without that added thrill he doesn’t want it. But then his eyes fall on the file sitting on the table behind the chief.   “I know what you want to say” the chief says and Jeongguk closes his mouth as he gets interrupted. No, actually you don’t. “Sir- I would-‘’he gets cut off by the chief’s hand. “Take this son. We need to bring in this asshole and his gang. You’re the only one I can trust” he feels a hand on his shoulder as the short man stands in front of Jeongguk, looking at him from behind his moon spectacled glasses. He is a foot shorter than Jungkook, yet has a commanding presence. “I was going to say yes” Jeongguk replies quickly before he gets cut off again. “I mean I know- Wait what?” He looks at Jeongguk surprised, unable to believe the words coming of out the youngsters mouth. “Yea I am taking this” his voice is one that is filled with an unusual amount of determination and his face expresses a never seen before level of commitment. Usually he just takes on cases that interest him, but he never actually looks serious about it. But now he does and the chief wonder’s what has changed.   “What changed your mind?” He simply points the file on the desk. “Her”

“Do you know her son?” He asks in a gruff voice. “Yea. I am taking this case and I respectfully don’t give a crap, whether it is a “conflict of interest” or not, Sir” he grabs his holster from the table and straps it around his belt. He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket. It’s old and yellowing, ripped at the edges. Glancing over it once he puts it in his back pocket. “It can be cause for disciplinary action. You know that” “How many times have I saved everyone’s asses?’ He steps threateningly towards the man, the veins of his neck bulging prominently as he grits his teeth. All sense of boundaries forgotten, he glares at the man in front of him and doesn’t even care to conduct himself in a professional manner. “Too many times to count” the chief’s stare is just as firm as Jeongguk’s. “So then I deserve this one. I am taking it as an honorary case. I missed that party so now I am making up for it” He puts the gun in the holster, and flings jacket upon his shoulder before walking out. He hasn’t completely stepped out of the door, when the chief interrupts him. “How many men you want with you?” The chief asks. “None chief. I am going solo in there” “Why do you want to save the girl so bad?” He asks because he is genuinely curious. He has never seen Jungkook this angry about anything. He has never seen him that fiercely concerned about anyone.   “ Because she’s my best friend and no one messes with her” he turns around with a murderous look on his face before turning back around and slamming the door behind.

Hoseok has you tied up against a chair, masking tape slapped on your mouth to block your protests. You glare at him across the room, and he doesn’t back down either. “You are one feisty woman aren’t you?” He chuckles as he moves towards you, stopping only to crouch down in front of you and remove the tape.   “Oh you have no idea, you filthy piece of crap. I’ve dealt with your kind before. You all are nothing but cowards.” you struggle against the tight rope, but it only serves to leave red marks on your wrists. “Ohhhh.. I like her” he looks at the tall man who had pointed a gun at you at the hospital, and they both begin to laugh sickeningly. While Hoseok is busy rambling on about shit you don’t really care for, out of the corner of your eyes you catch a shadow behind one the pillars. You quickly divert your eyes to your lap, so as not to alert him or the other men in the room to someone’s presence. But you hope whoever they are, they are here to save you. Because right now, a little saving would be nice.

“Why the hell did you kidnap me anyway? What the fuck did I do?” you scream at him, face turning red.

“Sweetheart you should have just treated me. I don’t like being told no” you can’t believe the words that come of out of his mouth. But than again you were right.

Definitely psychotic. Manic and deranged as well. Jungkook, on the other hand watches the whole exchange from the shadows. He is just as shocked as you upon hearing the reason for you being kidnapped. But more so he is just confused because how does someone do that? He’s health with enough criminals to know there is something wrong, but this is a first for him. He tries to calm himself, but he finds it increasingly hard seeing as you are being held hostage. It’s pissing him off, but he has to wait for the right moment, or else he might get himself killed. Or worse you.  

His hand automatically reaches in his back pocket, from where he pulls out the crumpled piece of paper. He doesn’t think you would remember him. But he remembers you as clear as day. After all if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have become a cop, among other reasons.  

He remembers the day his whole life changed for him.

It was a regular day like any other.   The bus was on its merry way to the camp, when an abrupt stop caused everyone to panic. Children began whispering to each other, while teachers were trying to calm them down. Jeongguk sat at the very back of the bus, his eyes trained on your scared form. He really wanted to give you a hug, but he couldn’t because his 10 year old self didn’t know how to.  

Plus, he had heard terrifying stories from his friends about how girls were blood sucking vampires and they could talk your ears off. So he had that fear too. But he watched as you looked out of the windows looking scared out of your mind. Biting his lip, with a racing heart he approached you. He stopped by the empty seat next to you, daring not to sit. You hadn’t noticed him sanding there until you heard a mumble.

Turning around you found a terrified looking boy, staring at you with the brightest eyes you had ever seen. His eyes were refusing to settle at one spot, hands fidgeting with each other along with biting of his lip. As he pulled his lower lip between his teeth, you saw a small mole in the under his lips. The sight made you smile. It was cute. “Do you want to sit down?” You asked him, and the corners of his lips turned up. He nodded eagerly before taking a seat next to you.  

“T-t-thanks” he mumbled, still playing with his hands. You studied him, and although you didn’t know much about body language at the age of 10, what you did know was that he was scared. But as much as you, maybe not. Reaching in your backpack, you pulled out a bottle and extended it towards him. He looked at you startled, almost looking alarmed by your gesture.  

“Its water” you offered.  

He took it shakily and gulped some of it down before handing it back to you and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes fell to your lap where you were playing tic tac toe.

“Are you playing by yourself?” He asked and you nodded , shyly.   “Can I?” He looked at the pencil and you realized he wanted it. You handed over the piece of paper to him and he put a x right in the middle of it.  

“You scared?” you asked him, not knowing the reason for his fear was more you than anything else.  

“Y-yea. You aren't?” he turned towards you, suddenly interested.  

“Oh no. You see those men, they are looking for me” he was shocked by how calm you were. He was half expecting you to get hysterical and cry like most girls. But something told him you weren’t most girls. He leaned over you to peek out of the window and saw some men walking towards the bus.

"W-why are they looking for you?" He asked feeling a sense of admiration towards you because of how calm you were.

"My mom said my dad borrowed money from some bad guy and now he wants it back. So she said I have to be brave because they might come looking for me" you smiled at him, smoothing the creases from, your dress.  

“Aren’t you scared they’ll hurt you. I- I just mean you know, t-they don’t look nice” he retreated back to his seat, all the while looking at you.

“No. My daddy will protect me. He’s a cop you know. And everyone says he’s badass” you smiled at him and despite his best efforts to resist he found himself smiling.  

“So, you like cops then?” He asked, waiting with anticipation for your answer. “I do. Cops are the best. They are my heroes” a smile yet again tugged at the corner of his lips, but it fell immediately as the men forcefully entered in the bus and grabbed you harshly, dragging you behind them. You looked back at him, still smiling. In that moment he had never feared for anyone’s safety like he did yours. In that moment he wished he was a grown up so he could protect you. He wished that the men who tried to hurt you would be struck with a spell that caused them to be stuck with the sensation of 100 lost sneezes, or even just diarrhea. He hoped their hair would fall out, and they would never be able to pee again. Of course that was when he was 10. He didn’t know better. But what he did know was he would grow up one day and become a cop. So as he reached for the paper of tic tac toe that you left behind, he drew a little heart at the top of the page.

  He gently strokes the piece of paper he has carried with him for 15 years. He never once let go of it and never let you in on his secret either. This and the other that of course the reason why he decided to become police officer was because of you.  

He pokes his head out from behind the shadows, inspecting the scene in front of him. Hoseok and another guy were the only ones left. Its too easy for some reason and it strikes him as odd. You almost gasp as you see a man whose face isn’t visible, wearing a police vest, peeking out from the behind the pillar. Hoseok looks at you suspiciously and you compose yourself back to a neutral expression. He looks around, eyes full of caution. You try to act normal because you don’t want that officer killed because you couldn’t hold it together. But then he starts laughing a full bellied laugh and you don’t know whats so funny.  

“You can come out officer,” he turns around looking behind the pillar, where moments ago your eyes were directed. You look at him wide eyed, and your heart drops. Turns out he isn’t as dumb as you thought.  

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that” and he steps out from behind the shadows.Your jaw drops as out walks your best friend.  

“You seriously couldn’t have let someone else take this could you, you dumbass!” you scold him but he pays no attention to you.   “You two know each other?” Hoseok asks, and for a very brief moment Jungkook freezes.  

“No. I have no clue who she is. Did you forget I was famous and that practically everyone knows me?” Hoseok nods because it makes sense. But Jungkook can’t believe how dumb the man is for believing his lie.  

He walks towards Hoseok, gun held limply in his hand. His walk itself is powerful enough. He looks at ease and it takes you by surprise. But then you remember he is a police officer. Its his job.  

“Well who do we have here? The famous Jeon Jeongguk. Here to apprehend me?” He looks mockingly at Jungkook  

“Nah. I am just here to have some dinner” he smirks, cocking a smug eye brow at the guy. You want to laugh but you know that wouldn’t be smart. He’s a wise crack as always. You have only ever heard stories about him dealing with criminals but watching it live in action is definitely something else.  

You keep staring at him, feeling in awe of the power he exudes just standing there and doing nothing. Somewhere in the midst you realize that he is actually a very handsome man. Even in such a situation your hormones get the best of you. The rolled up sleeves of his white shirt, the veins bulging in his forearm, his biceps peeking out from beneath the shirt sleeve. It hugs his arm perfectly, the curve of his biceps clearly visible. You only wonder what he is hiding under the shirt. The thought itself cause you to squirm in your seat. You bite your lip, trying to contain that small moan, but it escapes your lips.  

Jeongguk glances confusingly at you behind Hoseok’s shoulder, but catching your eyes he winks at you, accompanied by a small smirk. You feel heat rising in your cheeks, heart hammering in your chest. Control yourself. You are a doctor for fucks sake and he is your fucking best friend.  

It was true. They did teach you in med school how to control your emotions. But a certain man was wreaking havoc on your emotions and hormones, just by being present in the room. That man happened to be your best friend. The same best friend you had seen each and every single day for the past 15 years and never once had you ever thought of in that way. So what changed? Oh maybe just that you actually witnessed him being a cop and it was hot? Maybe it is his confidence because who doesn’t like a man full of confidence. But more so, who doesn’t like a man that could hold his own in front of the bad guys, all the while being smug and sarcastic about it. The answer is everyone. But most of all you in this particular situation. “How do you think you are going to save her?” Hoseok places his gun on his shoulder, tapping an impatient foot on the ground “Glad you asked. Its easy, First I am going to knock the guy out who is standing behind me right now. Then I am going to shoot the skeleton of a bastard who is advancing towards me with a gun aimed at my head. Then I am going to take down that fatass you sent over to check up on me, and lastly I am going to drag your ass to jail. So wait your turn big boy” he smiles at Hoseok who looks completely enraged and shouts in anger. You look at Jeongguk in awe and suddenly he seems a million times hotter than any man you had ever known. Not even Channing Tatum could compare. You would have clapped too, but seeing as you hands are tied behind your back, that isn’t possible. Well something about him is different. Or maybe its just me. “You cocky bastard-’’ but a punch lands on Hoseok’s jaw and he stumbles back. Blood gushes out from the corner of his lips, as he hols his face in his hand, wincing in pain. Then turning around, in one swift move he disarms the man named Cain, expertly taking away his gun and pointing it at him. Sweat is dripping from his forehead, hair slicking to his forehead. The sight has you gulping once more. Jungkook bends down, levels his face with the guy and knocks him out with a single punch. “Take that you stupid son of a bitch” you yell in excitement and for a spit second it draws Jeongguk’s attention towards you, who briefly glances at you. But it doesn’t do any good for him when he falls back in pain, holding his stomach.   “Okay you know what. I love that you are so excited. Its frankly an ego boost, but shut it doc” Jeongguk gets up wincing, glaring at the tall man. “Really man? I actually fucking liked you. You know you remind me so much of Voldemort and he’s my favourite character in the whole series. Too bad this Voldemort’s end is too close” he advances threateningly towards the tall guy, breaking into a run in the middle and lands a flying kick right on his face. The man falls back, clutching his nose in pain. You are positive its broken and beyond repair.  

As he promised he hauls the chubby man by his collars dragging him on the floor.  

“Okay stop. Please stop. I swear I’ll go with you to jail or wherever you want to take me” he pleads and Jeongguk stops in his tracks and looks at the man. He rolls his eyes at him and sighs, crouching down in front of him. He leans in close to the guy’s face, and you watch as his eyes widen in fear.  

“I really hate fuckers like you. You know that? You assholes have no concept of self- respect or loyalty. But hey you make my job easy” he lets go of his collar. “Now go wait for me in the corner and then I’ll take you out for some doughnuts okay?” He pats the older man’s cheek who scrambles back and does as he is told.

“Now whose left? Oh yea you” he turns around to face Hoseok who had been standing towards the sidelines after receiving a hard punch to his face.

Hoseok takes out his gun and points it at Jeongguk who puts his hands up.

“Okay genius. You got me”

“I am going to kill you and then I am going to kill her” Hoseok spits on the floor, blood spewing out as he does so.

“Kill her for all I care” JeonggukJ says casually and you look at him in outrage. You want to protest but he glares at you before you even have the chance to open your mouth.   “You sorry son of a bitch. Everyone idolizes you and they dont even know you are an asshole” Hoseok chuckles, still aiming the gun at Jeongguk.

“I didn’t ask them to. They do. Not my problem” he shrugs. You are starting to like him less and less by the second. You dont even know what you were thinking before. He is a goon too, but he’s just not labeled as one. Its all about the labels isn’t it. You shake your head, feeling stupid for placing your hopes on this guy. He doesn’t look like he cares one bit about what happens to you. “Then why the hell are you here if not for her” Hoseok moves out from behind you as Jeongguk takes a few steps back. “Stop moving you bastard” Hoseok holds the gun firmly and moves forward a few paces. Jeongguk’s eyes glance upwards and you catch it. You look up and you seriously cant believe it. “How redundant. I told you. I was here to have dinner, and then on my way I see you bastards and I was in mood for some fun so I came here” he looks at Hoseok like its the most obvious thing ever.

“I am telling you, man to man, dick to dick , that attitude is going to get you killed” Hoseok says.

“And your stupidity is going to get you killed” Jeongguk looks at him smugly, while Hoseok’s eyebrows crease in confusion.

“What- ’’ he is cut off as the old, musty chandelier falls on top of him, lacerating his face.

Because while Hoseok was busy trying to be a smart ass, Jeongguk had seen the frail thing was about to drop and he lured Hoseok to the right spot, and he followed like a puppy. The rest was history.

“Are you fucking kidding me? That was your plan?” You look at him in shock. “I think a thank you would be nice right about now” he moves towards you ignoring Hoseok’s cries of pain, as he clutches his leg on which the frail glass decoration had fallen.

Jeongguk unties your hands and your feet, helping you up.

Hoseok watches you two with anger, and whimper and cries in pain because the glass pierced his skin. He tries to move his leg but it only saves to jam the glass in further and rupture the artery. Blood gushes out. You run to him but you don’t move anything since, it would only make the situation worse. Besides it’s not a one man job.

“Call the police” you look at Jeongguk and he looks at you as if you are crazy.

“Did you forget I am the police?” He chuckles

“Sorry. Then call back up or whatever, and get an ambulance right now. This guy needs to go the hospital otherwise he will loose too much blood” you explain your reasoning to him.

“Why are you helping him. He kidnapped you because you refused to treat him”

“Yea that was when he had people pointing guns at me and patients. He could have shot me. I think getting kidnapped is a better option. But now he is in no position to cause anyone harm. Besides I am physician. Did you forget?”

He unconsciously smiles as he watches you attend to Hoseok. This is why he likes you. Because you don't back down, but neither do you let your feelings get in the way of your work. Pulling out his phone he dials for back up and an ambulance.

“But seriously the chandelier? Even for you that is stupid” you speak when he is done talking on the phone.

“A thank you would actually be nice right about now as I saved you life”

“Yeah. Thank you. For a second I thought you would actually leave me here” you rub your reddened wrists, while still sitting down next to Hoseok.  “I was. But then I thought, the world needs more doctors and I cant take away one just because I wasn’t in the mood” he raises his eyes brows and shrugs. But the truth was he had no intention of leaving you behind. You stand up and slap him upside the head for that sarcastic remark. He winces and rubs the back of his head while giving you the evil eye. “Come on you think I was going to leave you here? I just didn’t want that bastard to know you were my best friend. He could have taken advantage of the fact”

Your mouth contorts in an ‘o’ shape as you nod in understanding. “Lets see your abdomen. That looked like a hard kick” “Doc. You haven’t seen anything yet. This is nothing” he tries to brush it off, but you are adamant. “Jeon are you forgetting I am doctor. I basically treat you fellows every other day at the ER” you lift up his shirt. And as you guessed, he is packed. He is completely ripped. You become aware that you are being carried away so you, so you try to compose yourself. Gently palpating his abdomen you feel that the left side is bruised and tender. “Whats the diagnosis? Am I going to live?” He laughs but you look at him warningly. You know thats his job, but you hate how he never takes getting injured seriously. “You are going to live, but we need to get you to the ER, stat. There’s little bit of internal bleeding. Nothing life threatening but we can take care of it”   So, despite his protests you drag him to ER and he gives in because its you. He can never say no to you. To his doc.

While the rest of the battered and bruised gang gets transported to the ER as well, but under police supervision. Later in the day you hear about how Hoseok creates a havoc in the ER and gets transported to psychiatric unit like you had expected, because he had gone into a psychotic episode, accompanied by a bit of delirium.

The same night you have trouble falling asleep. Your mind refuses to let you forget the feelings you felt when Jeongguk walked into that room. So, you toss and turn in your bed unaware of how much time has elapsed. You give up on any prospect of getting sleep considering your heart refuses to settle down.

The heat makes it way up your body, the more you think about him. The more you try not to think about him, the more you do. You find yourself stuck in a line of thinking, so you rip off your bedsheets, put on your pajama’s and leave the house. You didn’t realize how stuffy your room was until the gentle breeze caressed your face.

The night isn’t bad. Its just the right temperature, not too cold and not too hot. Hence, a walk doesn’t seem like a bad idea. You begin your walk by turning towards the main street, but you forget that you have to pass an alley on the way. Then suddenly the event’s of the day come rushing back, along with the fear which begins to spread like poison through you. But, you remember how your mom used to tell you to be brave, you remember that your profession requires it from. Every aspect of your life requires you to be brave, and so you do.

You reach the alley with hesitant steps, peeking your head from behind the wall of the corner house. It seems to be clear so you begin your leisurely walk. At least for a moment it gets your mind off Jeongguk. And then the thoughts are back again.

You stop mid-step and stomp your foot on the ground in frustration. “Why the fuck is wrong with you dude. Get your head straight. Best fucking friend. Remember those words” you say to yourself and if someone else had been watching you, they would have mentally certified you.

“What are you doing here?” You scream as you jump back in fear. As you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face comes into view.

“Great now I am hallucinating. Awesome” you say to yourself, shake your head and hopefully with that the illusion and resume your walk for the millionth time.

“I am real. You are not hallucinating. Did you lose a screw today doc?” And then you realize its really him.

Great. Fuck. Frickity frackity fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You turn around slowly, keeping your eyes trained on the ground because suddenly out of nowhere you can’t look him in the eyes. Because if you do, your heart begins to race and you start feeling nervous.

Jungkook on the other hand is furious. He looks up and finds the surveillance camera, giving a thumbs up before yanking you by the arm, and moving to a safer place.

“Jeon— stop” you try to free your wrist from his grasp but he’s way too strong.

“Shut it. You are coming with me” he looks pissed off and if you could see his face you would be able to tell to. You follow him with a dazed look on your face.

Your hand feels like its on fire.The effect of this feeling once again has your heart thumping against your chest, the staccato building each second, and the beat reaching dangerously loud in your ear. For a moment all you can hear is the beating of your heart and it feels as if its going to stop.

The fiery feeling spreads from your arm to your spine where it takes on tingling form, leaving chills in its wake. You can’t comprehend what is happening but you do know its because he is holding your hand. He stops in front of your house, punches the code in, which unlocks the gate.

He then punches the code to the front door. Hand still grasped firmly around your wrist, he leads you up to the bedroom, where he turns the light on and harshly lets go of you. It send you flying on the bed where you land on your elbows. You slowly try to get up once the dizzy feeling passes away. Before you can get a word out he cuts you off.

“Shh” he puts a finger on his lips, and takes steps towards you until he is leaning over you on the bed. You can tell he is getting his teeth because you can see his jaw clench and unclench. You slowly lean back, trying to put some distance since his nose is almost touching yours. But he moves forward again, caging you in his arms by placing them on the bed on either side of you.

“Dont say a word. What were you thinking? What was going on in that stupid fucking head of yours you dumbass. How can you be that dumb y/n” and you know he is beyond furious because he says your name. He stopped saying your name when you became a doctor. Since then it was just doc.

“I expect better for you. Do you have any idea how gravely you compromised your safety by going out at night? Do you?”

You don’t answer because you are too stunned to reply since he has never acted this dominant. But then you realize he is waiting for your answer.

“S-sorry” you whisper, and he leans in further, his nose almost touching yours.

“Are you?” You nods frantically.

“If you wanted so desperately to go on a walk you could have messaged me. A message. Thats all it took and I would have accompanied you”

“Y-y-you would?” You stutter.

He rolls his eyes because even after all these years you cant understand.

“Yes. Yes I fucking would. I would do anything for you. You could fucking call me 3 am in the morning and say you want ice cream I would get it for you. You could ask me to get you that weird ass tea you drink and I would drive the 100 miles for you. I would fight your stupid ex for you, hell I’ll even take a bullet for you. I would fucking do it all for you, if you say it. You just need to say it” he looks at you intently, eyes boring into yours. Your stomach flips and you find that you can’t look at him any longer without feeling nervous and shy.

Shy? What the fuck? “W-well y- you… you don’t have to” you reply, avoiding his eyes and he sighs in defeat because clearly you wont get it.

He lifts himself off of you and begins pacing in your room. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he flops on the bed next to you, looking completely exhausted. You feel bad for worrying him so much.

“Look, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I get that now but I was— I-’’ you pause, inhaling a deep breath.

After a small stretch of silence, which gives you the time to put your thoughts together, you continue.

“I just… I dont know okay? I just fucking dont know” He lifts his head to look at you and he is surprised to see you on edge.

“I am.. I dont even know. Forget it. I am sorry” your bury your head in your hands, feeling inadequate in your efforts to explain to him why you went for that walk.

“You can talk to me about it” his voice is gentle, and calm and soothing. For just one second it takes away all your anxiety.

No I cant. Because its about you, you dumb ass

But you don’t even know what to say to him. You don’t even know how to begin because thats just it. You don’t know yourself. So how can you explain something you don’t understand?

“Come on. Tell me” he urges and you know he is getting that worried look on his face, which tells you that he wont stop asking you now.

“Something happened today okay?” You look at him and hope to the heavens that he would understand the meaning behind your words. Howeer, you realize that would have been possible if only you phrased it better because this was just way too broad.

“Well no shit something happened today”

“No- No. You- y-you don’t get it. I don’t mean me getting kidnapped. I mean…” you pause once more to collect your thoughts. “I- I mean you. Something happened with you, in my head and its just the most fucked up thing ever. Just fucked up completely and honestly and I don’t even know where to begin, and you are the worst person to talk to this about because this is fucking about you. Its about you. You get it?” you wildly gesture and talk in one breath and he just looks taken aback.

“Woah. Okay slow down. What about me?”

You shut your eyes tightly, biting your lip and sighing deeply.

“Something changed today” your voice is calmer, almost a whisper and its a complete stark to the hyper and frustrated state you were in just moments ago.

“Something about you. And I don’t know what it was but when you walked into that room my- my heart just went off. Beating like crazy. And- and then when I looked at you it got even worse. I don’t know Jeon” you sigh once more, your shoulder slumping, hands coming together in your lap.

“I know. I do know. I know all about it” a bittersweet chuckle escapes his lips.

“You do?” You look at him with wide eyes and he swears he would let you rip his heart out and still feel happy about it.

“Yes. This is how it feels. At the beginning at least. Its confusing because you can’t name it. You can’t label it as any particular emotion because you have never felt it before. You’ve never experienced anything that intense and overwhelming and it scares you. How am I doing so far?” He looks over at you, and you nod.

“How do you know all this?”

“Because I have felt it too” he looks at his lap, biting his lip because its finally here.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am telling you now”

“Who was it?” And as you ask him that question your heart drops and you can feel that little bit of disappointment beginning to make its way in. You feel ridiculous because he is your best friend and you shouldn’t be disappointed if he liked someone. You should be happy but you know you won’t feel happy.

He turns fully towards you, but still maintains a respectful amount of distance.

After a short pause, but what seems like an eternity to both of you, the word slips past his lips. The long held secret is finally out.

“You” he looks at you and even though everything in him tells him look away, to brace himself for the rejection. He doesn’t. His eyes bore into your soul, into the very depths of your being.

It unnerves you, makes you insecure, feel vulnerable.

“Me?” The word leaves as whisper

“Yea you. Its always been you. It has been since that day on the bus”

“I-I dont— dont know what to say Jeon” and its true because you dont. Yes you are happy but you cannot fully express it because for one you are way too surprised and two you weren’t expecting for everything to fall into place so fast. You were expecting something along the lines of him falling for you, and then you telling him how you felt and then the happily ever after. Well, not exactly but this was definitely not what you expected in the least.

“Dont say anything. There is nothing to say. Either you do or you dont” he shrugs, but masked behind that simple gesture is his broken heart. The pain of which he desperately tries to keep away from his tongue and his eyes.

“Go to sleep. Today has been a very long day” he smiles at you but something tells you its forced. You actually feel hurt that he is trying to hide it. You thought he would be honest with you, out all people, just like you were with him.

He gets up from beside you, intent of leaving painted on his face but you quickly stop him by holding his wrist.

“Do you think I am that stupid? You think you can hide it from me?”

“But you don’t” he replies and you pull him down harshly until he sits down on the bed.

“Did you not listen to a word I said? I didn’t say no”

“Yes but you didn’t say yes either” he huffs.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean its a no. Yeah sure it would have been until yesterday. But like I said something about you changed today. For me. I don’t know what it is, but it did. That counts for something doesn’t it?”

He is silent for a while.

“Doesn’t it Jeon?” You gently shake his wrist to get his attention, which is still in your grasp.

“I guess”

“No. No guessing. It does you idiot. I have started feeling something for you. I cant name it like you said. But I don’t exactly see you as a best friend anymore. Not really. You saved me, and you were so brave. You were so fucking awesome and I understand why every woman wants you. It’s just something about you, something that I never took notice of before” you pause looking at him to see if he understands.

“I saw it today. I saw the goodness in you. I saw the courage in you, the kindness, concern, care in you today. And that did something to me. It changed the way I look at you. Do you get what I am trying to say here? I just need time because this isn’t how I expected for it to happen” you exhale sharply feeling a heavy weight lift from your chest.

“Okay. Lets take it slow then. Your pace. We’ll do what you want, how you want. We wont give this thing a name unless you say so” he smiles at you and overcome with a sudden urge of gratefulness you crash your lips onto his.

He doesn’t respond immediately but when he feels your hand threading through his hair, stopping behind his neck and pulling him in, he does. Its a soft, sweet, gentle kiss. Its perfect for the occasion given that everything so complicated.

You pull away first, and he opens his eyes.

“What happened to taking it slow?” He laughs

“Well, if you are going to be this sweet and considerate then I don’t think its going to take long” you smile and he reciprocates.

“I can be sweeter than this you know?”

“How?”

“Like this” he pulls you into himself, arms wrapped around you tightly. He rests his head on top of yours, trying to take in the moment because he feels happy. He feels thrilled and he doesn’t want to forget it.

“You know I can get you to kiss me again?” And you pull away from him, looking at him suspiciously.

“How?”

“Do you know why I became a cop?”

You shake your head.

“You. To protect you. Decided that day on the bus”

You look at him in awe because how much sweeter could he get?

“You are right that does earn a kiss”

So you pull him by the lapels of his jacket and kiss him. You kiss him until you don’t feel nervous, until you don’t feel doubtful about it. You kiss him until it begins to feel right to do so.

“Saved the best for the last” he winks and pulls you into himself once more because he doesn’t want to let you go. He has waited far too long for this and he will make it worth every single second.

You were right. It was something about him. In fact, it was all about him.

Dont forget to click that heart, reblog, leave an ask or comment if you liked it! Let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading!!!

#bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts cop au #bts jungkook police officer au #bts writing #bts fanfcition #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #bts fluff

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supernatural-firstwatch · 7 years ago

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Season 8 Episode 20: Pac-Man Fever

- Dean looks utterly confused to be waking up as an Army doctor from... What year is he in now? Did he time travel again? But hey! The name on his uniform is “Winchester!” And the music continues playing even though he removed the needle. Ok, move the table blocking the door... WOAH! That’s a lot of dead people!!! Goddamn it, Dean! How the fuck did you end up in 1951 now??

- Flashback to 24 hours earlier!!! HAHAHAHA!!! Man, Sam looks like hell. “Man, I’m telling you. Give me five minutes with a clipper and--” “Awh, shut up.” Wow! Sam lay down to sleep at noon the day before?? And now he has no reflexes to catch the bottle of beer. “It’s why we don’t have nice things, Sam.” Oof, Sam didn’t even hit the target. And he REALLY looks like shit. Good job make-up department.

- The Batcave just gets better and better. “Huh. This place must be in some kind of, like, Bermuda triangle.” “What, are you saying, that we can make and receive phone calls from here and nobody can track us? Man, I love this place.”

- OMG! CHARLIE IS STILL LARPING!!! HAHAHAHA!!! AND THE GUYS ARE INVITED TO THE JUBILEE!!! OMG!!! LOVE IT! NOOOO!!!!! CHARLIE FOUND THE SUPERNATURAL BOOKS FROM CHUCK!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! “Thanks for saving the world. Sorry you have zero luck with the ladies.” “We need to find every single copy of those books and burn them.” They’re online now, so good luck with that.” “Awesome.”

- OMG I CAN’T EVEN!!!! DEAN IS TAKING HER SHOPPING WHILE FORGING HER FAKE ID!!! THE MUSIC WAS ACTUALLY PLAYING ON HER PHONE!!! LOOOOL!!!! “*disappointed* Montage.”

- Awh, Charlie is sweet. “If it’s any consolation, having read your history. There is pretty much nothing the Winchesters can’t do if they work together.”

- Oh, Sammy. At guess at least you hit the paper this time instead of the wall... Speaking of walls, Dean just smacked into the one known as red tape bureaucracy!!! That only took 8 seasons, LOL!

- God, teenagers. They’re so stupid. Go ahead and poke the bloated corpse in the middle of the road with the pointy stick. Urgh, I don’t even want to see this. It’s going to explode all over them, isn’t it? Yep. And delayed reaction.

- HAHAHA!!! Sam beat them to it. Man, Dean is going to be pissed. “Charlie, why don’t you talk to the witnesses?” “But I don’t want to miss the bro-ment.” “Charlie!” LOL! “Dean, you cannot take care of the both of us. I need to be out here. “Play through the pain,” right?” “Oh, come on, man. Don’t quote me to me.”

- “Does this mean we don’t have to break into the coroner’s office?” “That’s a great idea.” Poor Charlie. Now she’ll get to see how these two really are: impossible. HAHAHA!!! Sam and Charlie got there before Dean! And startled him. “What took you so long?” “I stopped for gas. Shut up. The body’s in here.” LOOOOOOOOOL!!!!

- HAHAHA!!! Sam wanting Charlie’s computer monster software and Charlie wanting Dean’s book of lore. “I hate that thing. I want one.” Hmmm... What is up with Charlie? Cause the brothers have noticed that she seemed off “since the second she got here.”

- I KNEW THE CORONER WAS THE DJINN!!! She prolly pegged them as hunters from the start.

- Damn. Talk about a fight with the Djinn. Awh, Charlie’s mom is in a vegetative state after getting hit by a drunk driver on her way to pick up Charlie from a sleepover. :(

- “You’re not going anywhere.” “Withheld scream.” “Do you know what I smell on you?” “Deodorant? A little pee, maybe?” Man, those ropes around Charlie are so slack she should be able to wiggle right out of them. Haha! She owns an abandoned shipping warehouse. Of course she does.

- Awh, I love it when those two are on the same wavelength. African dream root! “I’m going to need to go to sleep fast. Punch me. I know that you don’t want to, but--” *Sam punches Dean hard!* “You’re a little off your game there, cause that was pretty--” *Sam uppercuts Dean, Dean goes DOWN!*

- WOW! This was Charlie’s happy place??? WHAT THE FUCK, CHARLIE?? Oh wait, no. Not this Djinn. This Djinn like the taste of fear, so it would send you to your worse nightmare instead of your happy place. HAHAHA!!! Charlie’s nightmare is a first person shooter against super-soldier vampires! LOOOOOL!!!!!

- Where’s the second Djinn? The coroner said Charlie would make a nice meal for two. Sam is all by himself guarding the two of them, while super sick. There is no way there isn’t a second Djinn. THERE HE IS!!! Hello, teenage Djinn! Sam is going to get his ass whooped. WEll, look at that. Sam managed to kill him after all.

- Awh, Charlie :( :( :(

- AWWWH!!!!!!! “I love you.” “I know.” THE STAR WARS REFERENCE!!!!! LOOOOOOL!!!!!! I love Charlie’s relationship with them.

- AWH THESE BOYS!!!! *Sam sees Dean approaching and scrambles to stand up* “Okay, look. You were right. I-I should have laid low. I-I know. I shouldn’t hung back-- I’m glad I was able--” *Dean cuts him off by hugging his lights out* “What do you say we find our prophet?” *Sam looks utterly bewildered as Dean walks away shedding his jacket*

:( :( :( :( :( Charlie and her mom....

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #season 8 #first time watching #charlie bradbury is the best #she's the little sister sam and dean never had #charlie found the SPN books #now she knows everything that's happened #up until season 5 at least #charlie has all the faith that sam will pull through #so many brotherly hugs this season!#finally the boys are showing their love #sam looks like crap #just let the poor boy rest

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pokeasleepingsmaug · 8 years ago

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Ironside and the Spell-Weaver: Chapter 3

Beautiful bloody Bjorn inspired me to get my ass in gear and write the next chapter in his little piece. Although really, I haaaate writing in first person haha. Kudos to you lovelies that do it all the time, this is such a struggle for me lol.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10534929/chapters/25721790

Trigger warnings: Blood, woundcare

My arm jerked in its socket and I shot a dark look at the prince's horse. “You will be the next horse to greet King Ragnar in Valhalla,” I muttered, half-threat and half-promise. The stallion only tossed his head and nickered sweetly at my little mare. I sighed and resumed my scanning. I'd used most of my herbs before the last battle, but finding them behind the army was proving to be an impossible task. We brought destruction everywhere we marched, simply by the sheer number of our force.

Next time, I promised myself, I would bring more herbs. If there was a next time for traveling with a conquering army, that is. Most volur only practiced for a few years once they completed their training. This would be my last significant job before I began to bear children, that I knew, but I also knew I would travel with another army someday. The gods grant strange and sometimes conflicting knowledge to the volur.

I sighed, rolling my shoulder to stretch it after another harsh jerk from Hrafn. This horse would be the death of me. “I told you this horse was not worth the trouble,” the warm voice wrapped around me like a cloak, and I wanted nothing more than to sink into that feeling of safety.

“My lord,” I greeted him, bowing my head and trying my best not to let Hrafn pull me off balance.

“Bjorn,” he corrected absently, waving his hand in dismissal as he reached out to take the rope from me. I sighed in relief, letting my tired arm hang down by my side to rest. “He seems well. I had not known you were a healer and a volur.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Less a healer. I can mend small things, but most are beyond my small skill.”

Bjorn looked around us, at the army ahead and the empty country stretching behind and to the sides. He did not look at me. “I took a wound during the last battle,” he admitted. “But since I am thought to be untouchable in battle, I told no one.” I opened my mouth to scold him, the foolish habit of an older sister that probably shouldn't be applied to sons of kings. “I could not let my brothers see me wounded, nor the men of the army.” Always the pride with men! I sighed. How close was this man to dying for his pride?

“Alright. Then you will help me gather herbs. When the last of the men are over that hill, I will check your wound.” I slowed my mare even further and Bjorn followed my lead, glancing nervously at the men in the rear of the army.

“What will they say that we stay behind, out of sight?” My face burned at the question, but he continued. “Do you think they will know I am wounded?”

“No. They'll probably think we're having sex.” I became suddenly very interested in the way my fingers gripped the reins. “You can encourage that rumor. To keep the suspicion off your wound. I will probably need to tend it again anyway. That's a convenient excuse for you to keep coming to see me.”

He tilted his head, considering this. “Maybe it will make them fear you less.”

I laughed, a sort of bitter chuckle. I am a sorceress, men will always fear me. It is the way. If anything, it will add to your reputation if they think you're brave enough to lie with me.”

“Sigurd wants to bed you,” Bjorn told me, laughing.

“I am not his fate.”

The laughter died on Bjorn's lips as he met my steady gaze. “I know. But he does not.” His voice was serious, husky; it made the breath stick in my throat.

“The army is far enough away,” I told him, abruptly changing the subject. His blue eyes scanned the hill and he nodded, satisfied. I suppressed my relieved sigh at having distracted him and dismounted from my horse. Bjorn sat down before me, holding his sword-arm out to me. I pushed back the long blue sleeve of his tunic, revealing a dirty linen bandage stained with blood dried brownish-pink. He didn't wince as I unwound the bandage. I inched closer to him, sitting up on my knees to see his arm better.

The cut snaked from the back of his wrist to the inside of his elbow; I guessed he'd twisted in an attempt to block the blow. The cut was broad and long, shallow in most places. It was deepest at the tender skin below his elbow, but from the way he moved nothing major had been severed. He was lucky, warriors are more delicate than they like to believe. In a world where a single blow can steal a man's life, the only thing that keeps him marching to battle is belief in his own invincibility.

I ground some herbs to dust using the sheath of my knife and my wooden mixing-bowl, added a little water from the pouch I carried, and set the bowl down to let the mixture thicken into paste. I splashed some water onto Bjorn's arm, watching it run pink-tinged and dirty over his pale Northern skin. I gently wiped away the water with a rag from my pack.

I felt Bjorn's eyes on me as I picked up the bowl and stirred the paste with my forefinger, testing the consistency. It was ready. I hesitated, the paste on my finger. “Do you want a rag to bite on?”

“I am no unblooded boy,” he scoffed. I shrugged and began smearing the paste over the wound, careful as I could be. I was uncertain of my healing skill, but surely I could not kill one who was unkillable? I glanced up. The prince was pale but quiet. I averted my eyes back to my work, knowing instinctively he would hate the pity in them. I finished applying the poultice and wrapped a clean bandage from my pack around his arm, then pulled his sleeve back down to hide it.

I reached into the pouch sewn into my skirts and pulled out an apple I'd been saving for my little mare. The prince took it and his even white teeth pierced the firm red skin easily. He took a large bite and offered it to me. I shook my head. “Eat, and then we will join the army again.” I smirked at him, his vulnerability, his trust in me making me bold. “Has it been long enough, my lord, or should we wait longer to impress the men with your skill?”

The great bear of a man chortled with laughter, nearly choking on his apple. “I impress everyone with my skill.” He shot me a wink, and my knees would have turned to water if I'd been standing. He finished the apple and tosses the core toward the treeline as he stood. He reached out his left hand and pulled me to my feet. Maybe it was just my own imagination, but it seemed he held to my hand just a little longer than he needed to.

#bjorn ironside #bjorn ironside fic #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn x oc #ironside and the spell-weaver #bjorn x alfhild

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augment-techs · 8 years ago

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Meaning and Obligation

All that has been, all that will be, has no meaning anymore. --Felidae

So I’ve been pressed a couple of times recently to actually publish a time-travel, student-mentor AU I’ve been commissioning art for in increments via the lovely and talented @amanoot and while I don’t have an actual full bodied plot with feelings and emotions and long sentences... I do have the bare bones and veins and pieces of the body.

So, a little sample then, why not?

In which Harry survives the war, but with far more people dead than there should have ever been allowed to be sacrificed in the name of the “Greater Good.”

In which Hermione gave him the Time-Turner she’d used during third year; but with alterations, untested and dangerous, but hope was in her eyes. In which she made something of her own Horcrux, but in way of the Light, and placed it in a magical portrait that enlarged and shrunk as needed; all of her memories in it as well as a piece of her soul. Her hands forced his own to close around the shiny objects before sending him on his way. The Weasley’s joke shop and Hermione herself were the last things he saw of his time before he gave the number of turns his (not dead, but broken) last living friend said were correct and he was gone.

In which the Time-Turner was only good for one go and he ended up in Diagon Alley, three years before his parents’ generation started attending Hogwarts. Just enough time for him to start laying the foundations of a life and the skills needed to procure a job for DADA, under the assumed name of Harry R. Granger.

In which Harry takes none of the Marauders’ shit at all and makes a sort of game of seeing who he can guilt into behaving more. Peter has to go; Remus needs to know the difference between friendship and being paralyzed; Sirius needs to spend some time with his impressionable little brother--like, for real; and James needs to get it through his head that a bully is not someone good enough for Lily.

In which it is Harry, not James, who saves Severus from Remus and has a blushing heart-to-heart with the Slytherin and the werewolf.

In which, aside from trying to make it painfully obvious to all of his students that he was unbiased about their houses, but would not tolerate purist attitudes and would put to bed any illusions they had about Tom Riddle; Harry’s main concern was making sure Dumbledore didn’t let the Marauders get away with everything. And that Snape and Lily remained friends.

In which Hermione’s painting can maneuver in and out of every room in Hogwarts--actually any piece of art available to her, even in the Muggle world, even out in the rest of the Wizarding world. She is the best kind of secret keeper and spy Harry could have hoped for. She guards his office and his quarters in Hogwarts, but a password is not required to pass her--merely a secret or a truth.

In which Harry has a very wonderful way of using guilt to make Sirius and James become decent people--not least of all by putting them both on indefinite detention detail and finding ways to rope Regulus and Andromeda in as often as possible.

Additional Edit:

Harry makes a point of getting Lucius and Arthur to get along by somehow--I don’t yet know how--basically getting them to stalk the Grangers before they started dating and also visit the British Library to compile a list of muggle literature that would be useful to reference for passwords to Slytherin and Gryffindor. They fight so much, but it kind of works.

There is Harry getting the Marauders and his favored students to work their asses off collecting evidence to prove the existence of the school’s basilisk before he can clear Hagrid’s name.

There is Hermione sort of politely harassing all of the other teachers to actually pay attention to what is going on right in front of them.

There are Slytherins that don’t even know they’re smuggling in muggle contraband for Harry until they’ve listened to the record player he’s set up in his classroom and muggleborns beg the man to keep playing The Sex Pistols, Elton John, Led Zeppelin, and so on.

There is a kind of mutual affection Harry, Professors Sprout and Flitwick, and Madam Pomfrey have by the the time Harry broke the curse on his position.

There is, of course, Dumbledore meddling, making things more difficult than they would have to be--but, McGonagall appreciates this young wizard on staff that actually stands up to Dumbledore when he thinks there is a line that the Warlock is literally erasing right in front of them. A powerful ally in her.

#Harry Potter #time travel AU #severitus #mentor!Harry #changing things for the better #basic synopsis #still working out the kinks #severus snape #the marauders #lily evans

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maplesamurai · 6 years ago

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The Witch’s Apprentice Ch 3

The sun had not even begun to peek over the horizon as Summer Butcher tiredly got up from her seat next to Morgan’s bedroom door and yawned, having not so much as stood up from her chair since the last time she took over the shift from her son hours ago.

“Harold dear,” she yawned as she brushed her dishevelled graying hair out of her eyes, not even sure if her husband was even awake. “Would you mind taking watch now? I’m starting to get a bit drowsy.”

“S’alright,” Melion yawned as he came around the nearby corner in the hallway, his black, mane-like beard unbraided and almost scraping his head on the ceiling with his mountainous height. “No need to bother ‘im, I can take over if ye want tae get some shut eye.”

“Out of the question,” Harold said sternly as he came down the hall in his bedrobe, only barely stifling a yawn and squinting to see in the dim light even as he hurriedly put his glasses on. “Mel, I appreciate that you want to help, don’t get me wrong. But you’re still a guest here, so we can’t ask you to stay up in the middle of the night doing our work for us.”

“Save it, Harry,” Melion scoffed. “We might not be related by blood, but yer still me family. So I’m going do me part ‘round here, whether ye like it or not.”

Cracking a rare smile, Harold shook his head and said, “You always have to look out for the pack, don’t you, you old dog?”

“Hey, don’ blame me, I didn’ ask ye tae take me in all those years ago!” Melion said with a smirk.

“And I didn’t ask you to break into my father’s butcher shop and pass out, and yet here we are.”

“Kay, ye got me there,” Melion chuckled. “But even so, dat’s still me niece in that room, so ah can’t just lie in me room all night doin’ nothin’. So if ye won’t let me help, sooner or later, ah’ll prolly be th’ one who’ll need tae be talked outta doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

“Wait, are you saying you’ll go to her about this? After we’ve just talked sense into Arthur about pretty much the same thing?”

“Course not, Harry! Ye couldn’ pay me tae see that woman again!”

“Speaking of Arthur,” Summer interjected, “perhaps I could wake him up for a bit if Melion’s going to be this stubborn?”

“Summer, don’t make the lad pull another shift after you just took over his,” Harold sighed. “He’s had a long day and he needs all the rest he can get.”

“Who said anything about him taking over? I just think after Melion talked some sense into him, he can return the favour.”

“Great,” Harold said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we won’t just have two stubborn asses insisting on keeping watch all night.”

“Spare the sarcasm dear, it’s worth a try,” Summer said as she started walking down the hall and turned around the left corner towards Arthur’s room.

Turning back towards Melion as his wife disappeared from sight, Harold asked, “So what were you proposing that’s so stupid?”

“I was meanin’ ah’d prolly go take a job huntin’ somethin’ way outta me league in hopes that’d earn me enough tae pay th’ wizards.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way Melion, but if you could make that much money off your line of work, you wouldn’t be spending most nights sleeping in the woods.”

“Oh come off it Harry, ye know exactly why I prefer it that way. If ye didn’ insist on puttin’ me in yer guest room, ah’d just lay down in th’ barn whenever I visit.”

“I’m aware what you’re used to, but you know I can’t do that to a guest, much less my own brother!”

As the two continued their discussion, at the very end of the hallway past the corner, Summer gently knocked on Arthur’s door, calling to her son, “Arthur? Would you mind telling your uncle to go back to bed?”

When she didn’t hear a reply, Summer knocked a little bit louder and asked, “Arthur? Are you awake? Arthur?”

“Today must have been rougher on the lad than we thought,” Harold supposed as he overheard Summer’s attempts to wake their son. “I don’t remember him sleeping this heavily since he was in nappies.”

“Guess I’ll have to wake him the old-fashioned way,” Summer sighed, opening the door. “Arthur, I’m not going to call you again…“

But as Summer stepped into her son’s room to wake him up, she nearly tripped over her own feet in fright as she saw that her son was nowhere in sight. The bed in the corner of the room was perfectly made, completely untouched since the day before, and in the opposite corner Arthur’s wardrobe was wide open, with the cloak and traveller’s pack that normally hung on a hook inside the wardrobe door nowhere to be found.

Running back into the hall and around the corner, Summer shouted, “HE’S GONE!!!”

Harold and Melion immediately turned towards Summer, wide eyed with shock.

“Careful dear, you could wake Morgan!” Harold whispered worriedly as he strode towards the turn in the hallway to see for himself. “What do you mean, Arthur’s gone?!”

Shaking with panic, Summer elaborated, “ARTHUR ISN’T HERE! His bed hasn’t been touched since yesterday, and his closet is wide open with his cloak and bag missing!”

“You don’t think he-“

“Ah do,” Melion grumbled as he headed around the corner himself and into the guest room. Once inside, he crouched down and rummaged through his supplies piled up next to the door. Sorting through his coat, armour, shields, weapons and provisions of all kinds, Melion desperately searched for the one thing that could suggest they were mistaken somehow, only to find no sign.

“Just as ah thought,” he growled, thumping his fist on the wall. “The lad took me sword!”

“Damn it!” Harold cursed, not even trying anymore to not wake his daughter. “We should have known it was too easy to convince the boy! And he could be anywhere in that forest by now!”

Sighing heavily, Melion grimly said, “There’s only one way tae find th’ lad now.”

Striding towards Arthur’s room with his coat, armour and weapons underarm, he continued, “Ah’ll have to change.”

“Melion, are you sure?” Harold said cautiously. “After all these years we’ve kept your secret from them?”

As Melion reached Arthur’s door, Summer stepped aside to let him through. Desperately fighting to hold back her tears, she put a hand on Melion’s shoulder and told him, “Do what you have to. Whatever it takes, get my son back here safe.”

“Ah’ll do that or die tryin’. Ye have me word, Summer.”

As Summer passed him to join her husband, Melion entered Arthur’s room and approached the open closet, pulling out one of Arthur’s spare tunics. As he stuffed it under his arm with everything else, Melion came out and told Harry and Summer, “Ah’m going to need to duck into yer barn to sniff him out. Ah’m sure none around here are even awake tae see me change, but it’s still best I do it outta sight jus’ in case.”

“Of course,” Harold said worriedly. But as he followed Melion as he was heading down the hall towards the door, he added, “You do realise this means we’ll probably have to explain everything to Arthur once you’ve brought him back.”

“Ah know,” Melion sighed as he opened the door, adding before he closed it, “But it was bound to happen, anyway.”

Swiftly and silently, Melion ran for the Butcher’s barn. He knew he might spook the animals inside as a result, but that was a risk he had to take. Unlocking the barn door with the spare key he always kept with him, he cautiously stepped inside and threw the tunic on the barn floor. Once he was sure no one could see him, Melion put on the leather doublet and fastened all his gear to himself. Finally, he pulled on his fur coat and got down on all fours, the fur of his coat swiftly enveloping his body…

O – O – O

“So, Arthur Butcher… do we have a bargain?”

From across the round table that sat before the roaring fireplace, the Witch of the Woods outstretched her long, slender arm for Arthur to take her hand, her sparkling amethyst eyes and their cat-like pupils trained down on Arthur as she waited for him to answer the question that would decide his sister’s fate. Arthur did not even hesitate to reach out and grasp her hand.

“We do.”

“In that case, we ought not to dawdle in sealing our contract,” the Witch said, her darkly coloured lips curved into a smile.

“So does that mean I’ll have to sign something?”

“You could say that in a metaphorical sense, but in literal terms, magical contracts are less concerned with written documents…”

“How so?”

The moment Arthur asked that question, the room began to darken as emerald flames swirled around where their hands were clasped together, the green firelight reflecting off of the Witch’s moonlight pale skin. Her long, onyx black hair began to rise up and fan out behind her like a cape in the wind, but Arthur felt no wind, and the house’s windows were not even open to let in such weather in the first place.

“Wait, what is this?” Arthur asked, his eyes widened in astonishment as he looked down at the emerald fire dancing around their hands, even as he felt no heat from them.

Raising an eyebrow curiously, the Witch mused, “So you can see it…”

“Yes, should I not be able to?”

“Oh, never you mind for now,” the Witch said nonchalantly. “The magical forces that govern our world will sometimes indulge in a flair for the dramatic. The important part is that you answer these questions…”

Arthur sighed. “Then let’s get this over with.”

“Very well,” the Witch smiled. “Do you, Arthur Butcher, vow to serve the Witch of the Woods for as long as you live?”

“Yes, I do.”

The moment Arthur gave that answer, the flames swirling around their hands began to coalesce into thin ropes of fire which wrapped around Arthur’s hand, but still they cast no heat, burning his skin no more than ropes of hemp would. The Witch continued, “And will you hold me to fulfill my end of this contract, as I will yours?”

“I will.”

The ropes of flames tightened around Arthur’s hand as they began to bind the Witch’s as well.

“And will you forevermore belong to the Witch and place all of her needs above your own, until the day the terms of this contract expire at your passing from this world to the next?”

Arthur tensed himself. This was starting to become all too real for him, but he had come too far to back out now.

“I will.”

“Then, Arthur Butcher,” the Witch smiled as the ropes of green flame became to dissipate into cinders, “we have a contract.”

O – O – O

At the moth same rocky cave where a now deceased basilisk once made its lair, Melion’s arming sword lay on the ground, undisturbed since it had fell from Arthur’s hands as he was swallowed by the cave’s former resident. Undisturbed, that is, until this moment, as the snout of a great horse-sized canine lowered itself to just an inch above the blade and gave it a sniff. After a few sniffs, the newly arrived beast had its scent.

As the beast’s snout raised itself away from the sword to continue the hunt, the shadow falling upon the weapon began to change its shape, from that of a lupine beast to that of a towering human man. Once the shadow had fully transitioned to a static human shape, a burly hand reached down to grasp the sword’s hilt, upon which a gruff, accented voice sighed, “Damn the boy.”

O – O – O

As the tendrils of green flame binding the pair’s hands together finally dissipated, Arthur loosened his grip and pulled his hand away from his new mistress’s.

“So that’s it, then?” he asked. “The deal is done?”

“Your part is done,” the Witch replied. “However, there’s one part of the contract that I regrettably forgot to mention. This may sting a little, so I apologise in advance.”

Before Arthur could enquire what she meant, he noticed that the green flames of the contract had not fully evaporated, but had simply split into a thousand tiny strands of green cinders, which were now converging on the palm of his right hand with increasing speed. Once they had reached their full speed, the strands had all joined into a single vortex of flame that burned into Arthur’s palm, quickly disappearing into the skin of his hand. By the time Arthur had begun to grit his teeth from the pain, the sensation had gone entirely.

Arthur turned his hand around to see if the flames had left any marks. They had, but they did not look like any burn marks Arthur had seen. Instead of any scars or blisters, he saw a small mark no larger than a penny at the centre of his palm glowing with emerald green light, as if the flames had been embedded into his skin. Stranger still was the mark itself, which seemed to be a symbol of some kind. The symbol was a single circular (or was it ovular?) centre with eight lines branching off of it… was it some kind of spider, maybe? No, it looked more like the conjoined serpentine heads of a hydra, or was that the roots or branches of a great tree? Every time Arthur was sure he had worked out what the symbol was depicting, he immediately thought of something he thought that it resembled more.

Deciding he was getting nowhere trying to figure out what this mark was supposed to look like, Arthur decided to focus on the reason for the mark itself, asking the Witch, “What is this?”

“Yes, I really should have warned you first,” the Witch said with a chuckle of embarrassment. “That mark is essentially the dog tags on your collar. I am far from the only magical being who takes mortals for servants, but not all are as inclined to be as transparent about such agreements as I am. Some will not even give the mortals unlucky enough to encounter them a choice in the matter before taking them as property. This mark will let such beings know just who you belong to and remind them to keep their hands off.”

“’Who I belong to,’” Arthur grimly repeated, the gravity of what he had agreed to finally sinking in. “So there’s no going back now, is there?”

“I’m afraid not, child,” the Witch said sympathetically.

“Will I get to see my family again?”

“Of course you will, Arthur. I still have to fulfill my end of the bargain after all, and I imagine we will have travel to your home so I can see to your sister’s condition. And even then, you will not need to leave them right away, so you will have ample time to say your final goodbyes.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Arthur said with a sigh of relief. While still immensely saddened by the situation, knowing he would not have to leave his family immediately made Arthur feel a bit better. “How long will I have, then?”

“I am open to negotiate the exact date for you to begin your service to me, but I am unlikely to need and extra pair of hands too badly before the winter and even then not likely before the eve of the Solstice.”

“Well Miss, I suppose we should get on to business, then. When do we leave?”

Before the Witch could even answer, the two were interrupted by the loud sound of something large colliding with the Witch’s front door, said door violently fracturing from the impact despite the metal bracing. Whatever had attacked the door charged again, completely shattering the barricade in its path and sliding through the doorway. Arthur looked upon the intruder and froze up in fear when he saw that a ferocious warg larger than the ones he had hid from in the forest stood at the Witch’s front door, slowly beginning to stalk towards them. A gigantic, black furred wolf the size of a warhorse, it bared its tusk-like canine teeth and glaring at the both of them with amber coloured eyes that burned like hot coals in front of its scar-covered face.

As Arthur slowly backed away in fear as the great wolf approached, he slowly looked to the Witch, who just calmly continued to stand in place, simply observing the bestial intruder with no stronger a reaction than a glance of curiosity. Arthur was expecting her to reduce the warg to mist like he had to the basilisk, but instead she coyly smiled and said, “Well, this is a surprise, Melion. Although I do wish you had of knocked.”

Arthur looked back to the warg in confusion. Did she just call this beast by his uncle’s name? Surely it was a coincidence, he thought. No doubt the Witch could speak with animals, and gave them names in human speech. After all, how uncommon a name could ‘Melion’ be, anyway?

That thought was immediately shattered however, when the warg angrily replied to the Witch’s comment in a familiar, guttural accent, “Ah did knock.”

As Arthur stood agape in disbelief, the huge wolf standing before him began to change. Fur receded from the beast’s head and limbs, eventually parting from its body entirely to become a familiar fur coat. The warg’s snout shrank into its face until it was nothing more than a wide human nose and mouth, surrounded by a bushy black beard. The warg’s legs began to reshape themselves into human limbs, the toes of its front paws extending into human fingers and the wrists of the hind legs shrinking to the relative size of human ankles. The transformation complete, the man that was once a beast pushed himself up to stand on two legs, revealing the scarred face of Arthur’s Uncle Melion, fully armoured, brandishing the very sword Arthur had lost earlier in his brush with death, and looking just short of frothing with rage.

Utterly astounded by what he just saw, Arthur could only stare and say, “Uncle? But how…”

“Oh, ye’ve got far more pressin’ things tae worry ‘bout, boy!” Melion roared furiously. “We all told ye not to go into th’ woods on yer own, but ye did it behind all our backs and took me sword to boot! Wot were ye thinking; ye could’ve gotten yerself killed! And considering I found me sword next to a feckin’ basilisk’s lair, I reckon ye almost did! So wot do ye have tae say for yerself, boy?!?”

Shuddering in fear, Arthur struggled to find the words to respond to his uncle’s demands, only managing to get out an, “Well Uncle, I, I…” before he was interrupted by the Witch.

“’Uncle?’” she repeated inquisitively, her head cocked to one side. “You mean to say you two are related?” Pausing briefly to break into an amused smile, she continued, “I suppose this old wolf must have found a new pack after all.”

“Can it, hag!” Melion snarled.

“Well that was rude. Is this really about Arthur, or are you still upset about that day, I wonder?”

“That’s no concern of yers!” Melion barked back, pointing his sword right at the Witch. “Now if ye don’ mind, an’ even still if ye do, I’m taking me nephew home before he makes th’ mistake of dealing with ye.”

“That may prove difficult,” the Witch sighed as she exchanged a loaded look with Arthur. “We sealed the contract just before you arrived.”

“WOT?!” Melion yelled, nearly dropping his sword in shock. He quickly looked to his nephew, looking scared but no less angry, and asked, “Please, say it ain’t so, Arty! Please tell me the old hag’s pullin’ me leg!”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur could only open his hand and show Melion the glowing sigil etched into his palm.

At first Arthur was sure that his uncle was going to yell at him again, but instead the old huntsman ran up to Arthur and hugged him tightly, nearly squeezing the breath out of Arthur.

“Arty, ye damned fool,” Melion chastised his nephew tearfully. “Ah’d hoped ye’d know better than make tae same mistake ah did! Ye damned fool…”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Arthur sighed as tears began to well up in his eyes as well. “But I couldn’t just stay at home and watch Morgan die.”

“Well, wot’s done is done, I suppose,” Melion said bitterly, breaking his embrace with his nephew. “An’ I should know better n’ anyone that you couldn’ back outta a pact with th’ hag even if ye wanted to.”

Turning his back to Arthur and heading for the door, Melion said, “We best be off, then. Yer folks ‘r worried sick ‘bout ye, so we should get ye home soon as we can.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay for tea, Melion?” the Witch inquired as Arthur began to follow his uncle. “There should be plenty of hot water still in the kettle, and we could take the opportunity to catch up since last time. Besides, I may need you two to show me to Arthur’s house so I can see to the patient.”

“Ye can find yer own way, ye old witch,” Melion snapped as he and Arthur were almost out the door. “Sides, if yer tea’s as good as last time, ah’d rather drink mud.”

The way Melion stomped through the Witch’s doorway, Arthur was sure his uncle would have slammed the door shut behind them were it still attached to the frame.

Once the two had walked far enough that the Witch’s cottage was but a blur in the distance behind them, Melion stopped and got down on all fours again to change, his fur coat expanding to envelop his entire body as his human shape changed back into that of a wolf.

“Get on,” Melion said as he turned his head back to look at Arthur. “We’ll get back sooner like this.”

Lacking both the courage and the inclination to argue with a warg with the mind of an angry relative, Arthur climbed onto Melion’s back, tightly gripping the fur of his neck for lack of any reins, and the old wolf swiftly strode into the forest.

O – O – O

Arthur and Melion travelled in silence for the bulk of their journey home. Given the urgency to return home and explain the situation, Arthur had expected his uncle to take the direct path home uninterrupted, but that was not the case. While there were many long stretches that the old warg would travel straight towards the forest’s exit, there were many times where he would stop to sniff the air and take a detour, and in a few of those instances Arthur would catch a brief glimpse of what looked like another creature’s nest or the entrance to a lair of some kind, or even the light of a campfire accompanied by the chattering of some inhuman language.

There was even one time when Melion would whisper to Arthur to keep quiet before ducking into some underbrush for the two to hide, neither daring to make a sound as the sound of massive footfalls thundered by, Arthur not even wanting to know what kind of beast they were hiding from. It was not until minutes after the thunderous steps ceased that Melion would cautiously poke his nose out of the underbrush to check if the coast was clear, fully emerging soon afterward for the two to continue their journey.

It was not until the two had made it close enough to the end of their journey could Arthur could again see the sky through the tree tops that Melion broke the silence, asking as softly as he could, “So, are ye doin’ all right, Arty?”

“Oh!” Arthur said startled, still not quite used to his uncle’s voice coming out of a giant wolf’s mouth. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve just had a long night is all.”

“Yer gonna be havin’ a lot of those from now on, no doubt. Getting involved with that woman has led to many things, but an uneventful life is not one of ‘em. I just wish I could have stopped ye before it was too late.” With a sigh, Melion asked his nephew, “What exactly went down before I arrived, anyhow?”

Arthur told his uncle everything, from nearly being devoured by the basilisk, to being rescued by the Witch and following her to her cottage, all the way up to the moment when he accepted a lifetime of servitude under her in exchange for Morgan’s return to perfect health.

“Guess I can’t exactly blame ye for taking th’ offer given the alternative,” Melion reasoned. “But take it from me, if me own experiences are any metric tae go by, ye’ll spend th’ rest of yer days blaming yourself for whatever happens next.”

“So then Uncle, how do you two know each other? From the way she spoke to you, it didn’t sound like you only met her once and never again…”

Melion sighed. “Look lad, me history with that witch is a long an’ complicated tale, and I don’ like talkin’ ‘bout it much. But suffice to say, I made a bargain with her once. Didn’ even think twice about it, so eager was I to finally taste what I thought I wanted. I didn’ even think ‘bout wot I was givin’ up till ‘twas too late. I’d rather not get into what I asked her for, but long story short, it’s the reason I’m… like this.”

“She gave you the power to turn into a wolf?”

If a wolf were ever capable of anything close to smirking, that’s how Arthur would describe the look on his uncle’s snout. “Nah, she gave me the power to turn into a man.”

Arthur jolted in shock at the revelation. “Wait, you’re saying you weren’t human from the start?”

“I’ve been a warg my whole life, lad. ‘S why I’ve never been comfortable sleepin’ in a bed. Hell, yer Pop’s offered me a job on the farm more times than I could count, saying in case I got tired of hunting, but I like havin’ a job that keeps me where I’m most comfortable, out here in the wild.”

“So why’d you want to become human then?”

“I didn’. That’s just how she went about giving me wot I did want.”

Arthur was about to inquire what exactly that was, but he decided he was intruding on his uncle’s personal life enough as it was. So, he decided to change the subject to something not unrelated, but hopefully less painful for Melion to discuss.

“By the way Uncle, that reminds me… do Ma and Pa know about all this?”

“About wot? You running off on yer own? Course they do, yer Mum found out ‘fore I did!”

“No, I mean…” Arthur began before he paused to think of the most tactful way to phrase his question. After a few seconds of consideration, he decided to dispense with tact altogether and said, “About you being a… werewolf, I think?”

“Oh, that,” Melion realised, seemingly just noticing that it was worth mentioning. “Yeah, they know. Was part of how yer Dad and I met an’ the reason he adopted me into this family. It wasn’ till a while later that he met yer Mum. Between everyone under yer roof, you an’ only Morgan and ye didn’ know.”

“So why did you hide it from us?”

“Hey, I never hid anything from ye two! I jus’ chose to not mention it when ye were around is all.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than, ‘you never asked?’”

“Well true, we didn’ exactly want ye to know, either. It’s not really something I want a lot of folks to know. After all, wot would people think if they knew yer uncle was a werewolf?”

While not exactly happy that Melion and his parents had never told him, he could see the logic behind their choice. After all, all of the stories about werewolves he had heard were of men cursed to become feral beasts in the night that would slaughter all in their path, or of godless tribes of savages in the north with the power to take the form of monstrous wolves to lay waste to defenseless villages. Obviously Melion did not fit into either category, but Arthur doubted that most superstitious mobs were inclined to hear out their victims’ side of the story before burning them at the stake. Of course Melion and Arthur’s parents would want to let as few people in on the secret as possible.

Melion sighed. “Look lad, about what I said back at the cottage… I’m sorry. I really should have told ye wot I knew when we were back at yer folks’ place. Maybe I could have stopped ye from making the choice ye did.”

Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. “Uncle, if I could have been stopped by a little thing like knowing the price of the Witch’s help, do you think I’ve have gone into a monster-infested forest back when I thought her being a man-eating hag was a possibility?”

Melion gave a hearty laugh himself before admitting, “Kay, ye got me there, lad. Sometimes it’s hard to believe yer not me own cub.”

Arthur could not help but join his uncle in the laughing. Minutes passed, until the morning’s first rays of sunlight broke through the trees, illuminating the road back to town up ahead. It was just then that Melion came to a stop.

“I think here’s where ye should get off, Arty,” Melion told Arthur. “It’s probably not th’ best idea for ye to ride into town on top of a warg in broad daylight. Best ah change an’ we hoof it back to yer folks’ place together.”

“Agreed,” Arthur said as he climbed off of Melion’s back, the thoughts of werewolf-hunting mobs still fresh in his mind. As soon as Arthur had fully dismounted, Melion began to change back to his familiar form. The moment Arthur’s uncle had returned to his human shape, he looked down at his nephew, who gave a nod and the two headed for town.

O – O – O

Back at the Butcher household, the mood around the house had gotten no less heated than when Arthur’s parents had noticed he was gone.

“Summer, calm down…” Harold Butcher appealed to his wife, his meaty hands raised in front of him.

“Calm down?!” Summer burst out, seeming ready to explode at any moment. “Harold, how could you possibly be calm at a time like this? Our son is out there in the most dangerous place in spitting distance of this village, at risk of losing his way and getting eaten by whatever beast may find him if he doesn’t find that witch, or possibly worse if he does find her!”

“You think I’m any less worried than you are, Summer? Ever since Morgan fell ill, I’ve been beside myself with worry, and now this!”

Harold took a deep breath and sighed heavily as he lowered his arms to his sides. “I’ve been putting on a brave face for this family,” he continued, “but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep it up.”

Taking a deep breath herself, Summer took a seat at the kitchen table and said sadly, “I’m sorry, Harold. People have always said I wear my heart on my sleeve, and now, as a mother, I can’t pretend to be calm amid all this. Not when I know I could lose both our children.”

Walking over to his wife, Harold leaned down and clasped her hands in his and said, “I know. This might be hard, but we have to be strong through this, especially if we don’t want to wake up Morgan. The last thing we need to is get her worried about Arthur in her condition.”

“You’re right dear,” Summer sighed, holding her husband’s hand tight. “Just two people worried sick in this house is enough. But my worry is made so much worse knowing our son could be making a grave mistake trying to make things right for us all. And I wonder if either of us would have made that mistake if we were in his position at that age…”

As if on cue, the house’s front door creaked open, and the Butchers turned their heads to the door to see their son walk through with Melion behind him.

“Hey,” Arthur said awkwardly as his uncle leaned down to walk through the door behind him. “I’m back.”

Arthur was not looking forward to what was sure to come next. His father had his arms crossed, his face bearing a scowl of disapproval, while his mother looked absolutely furious with her tear-stained face fuming more fiercely than a boiling kettle.

With a deep sigh, Arthur began to say, “Look, I’m sorry that I-“, only for his mother to run get out of her chair and run towards him at top speed and hug him as tight as she possibly could.

“Oh Arthur, my baby!” Summer cried as she only tightened her embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home safely!”

“Yeah,” he sighed, hugging just as tightly. “Well, I’m sorry that I worried all of you.”

“Apology accepted,” Summer said softly as the two continued their embrace, only for her to give her son a light smack at the back of the head and sharply asked him, “What in the Green Goddess’s name were you thinking, running off like that?! You could have gotten yourself killed in that forest, or worse! Who knows what could have happened if your Uncle hadn’t stopped you in time?”

Summer waited for her child to answer, only to receive a grim silence in return. Summer looked up at Melion, waiting for him to confirm what she wanted to hear, only for him to solemnly shake his head. Even Harold widened his eyes in shock as he shuddered in realisation of what this meant.

“Arthur?” Summer said worriedly as she looked back down on her son. “You and Melion are scaring me. Surely your uncle managed to stop you before you saw the Witch… right?”

Arthur’s silence lingered for a few seconds more. Then he opened his mouth, and out came the one word Summer feared she would hear, but that she knew he would say anyway.

“No.”

Shaking as she continued to embrace her child, eyes widened with shock even as tears continued to pour down her face, Summer whimpered, “My sweet, stupid boy… what have you done? What did you promise?”

Just as Arthur inhaled a deep breath so he could explain everything, a soft, familiar voice rang from everywhere in the house, “Only that which I promised to give in return.”

As everyone in the house rapidly looked around the house to see where the voice was coming from, Arthur’s shadow began to swell up and a great, dark shape rose up from it, nearly grazing the ceiling above them as it began to take a human shape, the darkness swirling to become a familiar pitch black hair and clothes and revealing glowing skin as pale as moonlight.

As Arthur’s mother looked up in horror at the shimmering amethyst eyes staring down at her, the Witch closed her eyes with a gentle smile and politely asked, “Now that your question has been answered, may you be so kind as to show me to the patient?”

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