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atsadi-shenanigans · 5 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 11: Murder Buddies

You and Astarion have a chat.

On AO3.

You fumble with your stolen tent for a good thirty minutes until Gale takes pity on you. Though he assembled his with a wave of his hand, and since you’re incapable of the ~mystic cosmic powers~ he possesses, he tries to show you how to rig the thing up by hand. Which means it’s Shadowheart, ultimately, who takes pity on you both and shows y’all how to drive in the stake into the ground to secure the canvas.

“As, yes,” Gale says, totally not wiping sweat from his brow. “I’d forgotten how refreshing manual labor can be. Quite invigorating to get the blood pumping again.”

He’s quick to take a seat next to the fire Lae’zel got going. From being invigorated and all.

You’re not far behind.

Your feet are about to fall off. Your legs shake so bad you don’t sit so much as keel over to land on your ass. The pounding in your skull goes atrocious for a hot second, spiking into nausea, before clearing enough for you to make out Gale telling some story about a “magical misadventure” during his youth.

Shadowheart doesn’t join you. Too busy glaring at Lizard Lady—named Lae’zel. They’ve been making snipes at each other. From what you gather, Shadowheart is real indisposed to Lae’zel, and Lae’zel is generally indisposed to everyone.

Y’all didn’t talk much as y’all got her out of that cage. Everyone boot-scooted out of the area before the demons—called tieflings—came back with friends.

Lae’zel has an accent none of the others share. And Gale said something about “astral raiders” under his breath as she marched to the front of your group (before Shadowheart stopped, declared she wasn’t “following a githyanki”, and the two almost got into a fistfight right then and there).

“Astral” sounds a lot like “inter-dimensional” to you. So you extricate yourself from Gale’s story—sorry, gotta check on the new guy!—and trudge over. Lae’zel has probably the nicest tent here, with a hide rug inside and a comfy looking bedroll set up. It’s also scattered with stuffed heads.

“Hi,” you say.

She regards you with her narrow eyes as she pulls an entire training dummy out of her bag. It’s got tentacles sewn onto its face.

“We, uh, we met on the ship?”

“The useless istik, I am aware,” she says. “So you survived the crash. Perhaps you are not as pathetic as you first appeared.”

Wow, okay. Accurate, but damn.

She keeps on hammering that one. “It would have been more efficient to kill those horned teethlings. Though I suppose one as weak as you would not be capable of such a task. In githyanki culture, you would have been culled from the creche. Your people must be soft. Or perhaps you are not as you seem.”

“Well,” you say. “I’m trying, thank you?”

Her eyes narrow. This close and actually talking to her, and she’s not so much a lizard as a crocodile. There’s the same coldness in her, the same predator shine to her eyes. Best to divert the conversation.

“The way the others are talking, you ain’t from here, right? This world?” you say.

Her spine straightens. Her face is pretty, in a sharp, harsh kind of way. “We githyanki are not bound to the physical realms. We sail the astral seas in pursuit of our ghaik quarry.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, and you legitimately would like the time to sort it out and pick through the details. Buuut…

“Your people have been to other, uh, realms, then? Worlds? Not this one?”

“My people guard and conquer all the realms connected to the astral plane, yes. The noisy ones said you were taken from one such plane. I assume that’s why you came to me with your meaningless chatter.”

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t wanna take up your time, setting up the heads and all. Very aesthetic.” She pulls out a stuffed Squidward face. “Is there a way to get back? Like, at all?”

She pauses. Her expression is still sharp enough to slice, but you think you might, maybe, just a little bit detect the faintest baby softening around her eyes.

“You wish to return to your people,” she says.

“Yes. Very much.”

“I do not know,” she says and curb-stomps your burgeoning hope. “You would have to know the path the nautiloid took, and perhaps find your world alongside it.”

Fuck. Fuck shit fuck no.

Does a nautiloid have some kind of flight data recorder? Can you even access the damned thing if you find it (if you even recognize it)?

You think of the tadpole. Amongst Gale’s ramblings had been something about a hive mind. If you give that nasty thing a nudge, learn how to use it, maybe…

Assuming it doesn’t rip your face a new asshole.

And maybe it’s the wormy bastards and their bullshit psychic powers, or maybe Lae’zel is just really good at reading people. She stops her set up. Gives you what you can only call a scathing glare.

“The only way to save ourselves is to find a githyanki creche. All this prattle will be futile should the ghaik parasite twist our bones and melt our organs and turn us into ghaik ourselves. We have been lucky, far too lucky, that the process has not yet started. But we cannot trust to luck.”

That’s that. You’re maybe three days out from being stolen and brainwormed. According to the others, you should basically be shitting blood right now. But aside from the occasional, crippling headache—and looming mental breakdown; you know that bitch has penciled herself an appointment in your mental calendar—everyone seems to be good?

You turn to watch Gale rake coals out onto cleared dirt to nestle beneath what looks like a cast iron skillet. More sausages. Jesus.

You would literally commit murder (again) for a bottle of ibuprofen and a pepperoni pizza.

***

Speaking of murder.

Almost everyone has tucked in for the night. Or made a show of doing that—you’re pretty sure Shadowheart is going to literally sleep with one eye on Lae’zel, while Lae’zel dismisses sleep entirely as a weakness and seems determined to spend her night sitting crisscross-applesauce and glaring into the night.

Maybe she’s on watch. No one asked you. No one even brought it up to you. That’s probably a bad sign.

You’re sitting next to the fire, poking at the coals with a stick and trying to rub the burning from your eyes. Then Astarion is kneeling right next to you out of fucking nowhere and you startle so bad your stick goes flying.

He watches it arc away into the night with a raised eyebrow. “You throw things a lot, I’m noticing.”

“Jesus fuck,” you whisper shout. “You scared the piss outta me!”

“Apologies,” he says in such a smooth, blatant lie like he wants you to know it. “I forgot human senses aren’t as perceptive. I wasn’t trying to be stealthy.”

Bullshit. This guy is such a fucking weirdo.

“Uh huh,” you say, aiming at amiable and probably failing.

The two of you sit there a moment. A piece of wood collapses into the fire and sends up a cascade of sparks into the sky. They look like a swarm of orange fireflies. The homesickness crashes into you so hard you have to fight the urge to curl in on yourself. Nights with Uncle Randy on his porch, his lanky frame sprawled out over a lawn chair, cigarette flaring red as he took a draw. He’d offer you a beer, which you’d decline (“It takes like piss.” “Well suit yourself and more for me, sug’.”)

He wasn’t close to your dad once they’d gotten older. Had some sort of nasty fight Uncle Randy never talked about (you’ve developed a strong suspicion it had something to do with your mother). But he told you stories he knew about your dad—hunting squirrels, illicit fishing trips, that one time they got chased and bit by a raccoon and the rabies shots they’d needed (“Your gramma was so pissed off. We came back all cryin’ from them first shots and she made us go collect us a switch for our own ass-whoopin’”).

Your family wasn’t traditional. But Uncle Randy still had the stereotypical eagle feather tattoo on his bicep. He didn’t talk about it, much.

“Wa’n’t sump’n t’be proud of,” he’d said one time. “Things’re changin’ now, I guess.”

But you’d caught him mouthing Cherokee words on the porch in the dark, scrolling along a language lesson from the Nation on his ipad.

“So,” Astarion drawls.

Fuck. You’re in another dimension. You blink a couple of times, make sure no water spills down your cheeks.

“I couldn’t help but notice how easily those tieflings left earlier,” he says. He gives you a slow, deliberate once over. “Yet you’re not drenched in blood, so I assume there was no stabbing this time?”

“I don’t know about all that,” you say. “Like I told y’all. I said y’all were monsters coming up after them and they hightailed it outta there.”

“How lucky.”

“I generally am.”

“And the gnome the other day? That was luck?”

You blink. Turn to look at him. “Gnome?”

You hear that word and you think of that old cartoon of those pixie people with beards and pointy, red hats. The guy rode a fox, you think?

“Yes. The gnome you butchered,” he says.

“I thought he was a hobbit?!”

“A what?”

This fucking place. This absolute clusterfuck of a place. The fuck else is there over here? Fucking werewolves?? Do you need to watch for fucking werewolves now???

“I’ll be honest with you,” you say. “I ain’t never hurt somebody like that before and I am in way over my head here. I don’t even know what all happened that day.”

Aside from the murder. Self-defense, absolutely. But you freaked the fuck out and a man—gnome—is dead.

He nods in what a casual glance would label as sympathetic. “I see. Your first time?”

You stare. He’s still wearing that face. But the edges—maybe it’s your hyped-up paranoia here, but it shifts into something…smarmy.

“Yeah, actually,” you say because damned if you’re gonna let some bastard man make fun of you over that. He wants some kind of easy target? Come get some.

You choose: stoic Indian face!

“It happened so quick,” you say. “All the adrenaline, you know.”

You scrutinize him. Try to catch a hint of maliciousness.

But his grin widens and the corner of his eyes crinkle. “It got the best of you, eh? Happens to us all, from time to time. The first one, especially. All that rushing and one tends to fumble. You’ll want to practice your technique for your next round.”

Stoic Indian face is super ineffective!

He pats your arm in a half-hearted “you’re too gross to actually touch” gesture.

Is he…joking with you? Not mean-teasing, but like, murder-buddies-teasing?

“Since we’re talking about that, I got a question for you,” you say. “What’s up with chucking that body at me?”

The shithead actually places a hand on his chest like some kind of southern belle-of-the-ball. “Oh darling, I had to make sure he was dead. You were in such a state.”

You’ve been told you’ve got an intimidating stare. You don’t try to look mean, you just keep everything still and blank and stare at people, and it tends to make them squirm. But that just slides right off this bastard.

“It looked kinda calculated to me,” you say. Because it was.

“I do apologize for that,” smarmy bastard says in smarmy bastard tone. “It happened so quickly. You know how the adrenaline is.”

This bitch!

You almost call him a liar to his face. But sense wrestles back control. You don’t know these people and you have no backup, no safety net. This smarmy-ass, fancy pants fucking albino elf is absolutely messing with you, but he hasn’t pulled a knife (this time). And while he’s hinting at stuff, he’s not actually accusing you of anything (yet).

A test? An introduction? Both?

Maybe you’re as weird to them as they are to you. You’re an unknown entity; unable to communicate until yesterday, unable to use their most basic magic, and no training with weapons. But you did stab a gnome to death, and you freed Lae’zel.

He chose to interrogate you—none of the others have asked, was this an agreed upon plan?—by, what, teasing it out of you?

“Well,” he says. Stands and brushes the dirt off his pants. “It’s been a delight properly making your acquaintance, my dear. Do sleep well.”

You watch him saunter back to his tent. Duck inside. His shadow moves against the candlelight as he settles down.

He doesn’t blow the candle out.

Between him, Lae’zel, the girl named Shadowheart, and Mr. Chatterbox wizard, you’ve collected quite a company of oddballs.

Your headache remembers itself and sinks in to kick at the back of your eyeballs.

Fuckin’ A.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #demisexual tav #plus size tav #feeding alligators #slow burn

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stormxpadme · 2 years

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holding hands under the table, whichever x men ship you think of when you see this or vibe with in general <3

physical intimacy prompts - send me an X-Men pairing pls?

holding hands under the table | Cyclops/OC

"Forget it. None of the letters and numbers in this book make any sense in my head. This shit is exactly why I never made it to College.”

Closing her physics textbook, Katja forcefully resisted the urge to just throw it across the dining hall or use it for a little bit of flash target practice. Be a good example and all, and it already felt like the whole room was having eyes on the teacher’s table since Scott and she had entered as it was. Which probably shouldn’t come as a real surprise, given this was the first day for her to be allowed out of an apartment that someone else had been living in not too long ago, both of which she didn’t feel awfully comfortable about. But Hank’s and Jean’s conditions had been pretty specific. At least a week on her feet, off painkillers and without keeling over (not obviously enough for anyone to notice, at least) before Katja was allowed back to the gym. So back to work and class it was, an occasion that Charles had decided to celebrate with a little gravity manipulation test right at ass o’clock in the morning. She hated everything about this day already.

“No one’s asking you to win a Nobel Prize. This tutoring is meant to make sure you know what kind of powers exist out there and what they can do, including yours. Reduces the risk of accidents and causalities.” Disgustingly awake and patient for someone only on his second coffee, Scott skimmed forward to the chapter in question again to make another just as honorable and useless effort to translate the contents into any language that Katja could understand.

Bobby had been marginally better at that but Bobby was once more busy, pining silently for a certain brunette with white-colored bangs at the other side of his table who, for her part, was far too busy giggling with Jubilee over something Katja didn’t need enhanced hearing for to understand, judging by the way the girls kept on looking Scott’s and her way.

She could have used the last few days of bedrest, of course, to ask her partner for help earlier; considering the only reason he wasn’t teaching physics as well was that the pupils already hated his guts in math; that would have made perfect sense. But when you had just happened to end up in a quickly blooming relationship with a not only highly attractive but also increasingly charming and - as soon as no one was looking - astonishing emotional team leader? Priorities tended to shift. Even Katja’s self-punishment tendencies had limits. “You do remember, Charles said he has no idea how my powers work, right?” Reaching over the table for her morning hot chocolate, Katja discreetly used the chance to push that offending book as far away as possible from her. “If I am to learn how to not fry people on accident at all, I’m not going to get it from this.” With a little grimace, she reached down her side with her free hand and rubbed over the bandaged spot that throbbed angrily after the little thought-through movement once more. When she tried to get her arm back up, she found, a warm, gentle grip around her hand stopped her, slender, long fingers threading through hers, a grounding, soft weight of a soft, intertwined touch on her thigh, hidden from all those staring eyes by the tablecloth.

“Just because Charles has never seen something before, doesn’t mean he can’t figure it out,” Scott explained calmly, just the smallest hint of admonishment in his voice. “This is why you’re supposed to sit through biology and physics with all these short stuffs for a while.” He nodded towards the pupils, so many of them he’d helped raise, with an amused and very loving smile. “When we ask you to slow down, it’s to give us time to learn, too. Charles can’t help you figure something out when you have no idea of the basics of what your body is doing.”

“I am trying, you know.” Katja leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh - that, at least, had stopped hurting - and drew cautious, tender circles with her fingertips on the back of Scott’s hand, just relishing in the way his smile was widening for a moment, growing with that shade of deep affection she’d needed a couple of days to learn how to read and got to appreciate a lot faster. Ever since then, things between them had picked up more speed than a damn car in that one Formula 1 race in her home country that her father had once taken her to see. And while nothing was happening that she didn’t want, she couldn’t blame the pupils by being slightly taken aback by the sight of the two of them. She hadn’t been around for the others to explain to them why the mansion’s poster couple was no longer living in the same apartment and hadn’t quite cared to. But she doubted, those kids had had a particular hard time, figuring out the reason. Not with a certain new living arrangement, and with Jean and Logan spending basically their first day fucking in all corners of the sick bay noisily enough to test the sound-proof wall lining. With a quite askew grin, she nodded down on where she held on to her partner maybe a little firmer than necessary. “They call that positive reinforcement, right? You think hiding’s of any use in a house full of telepaths and ferals though?”

“Never.” The slightly suggestive hint in Scott’s grin promptly made her blush hard enough to answer any questions left across the room, probably. “But I’m a big sucker for consent, as you might have noticed. What and how much of us they get to see, is up to you.”

“Us,” Katja corrected him gently after swallowing down the small lump in her throat. Then, with a grimace of contempt, she turned her gaze to her book again. Another half of cup left to at least trying and not sucking completely at that test. She felt, it was suddenly a lot easier to get motivated for that after wrapping two fingertips around Scott’s tie and pulling him close for a brief, grateful kiss.

With a little bit of goodwill, she made it to ignore the cheers breaking out around them.

#x men #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #stormys fanfics #sometimes stormy gets asked things #effervescentdragon #thank you luv #love youuuu #am i predictable #maybe?#i did have others in mind #but bobbys future polycule is more marvelverse than x-men #we have yet even to meet kitty and piotr in this verse #bobby and marie are non stop awkward and i wanted something romantic #and jean and logan skipped the whole handholding stargazed courting part #and went straight to fucking each other's brains out #so #Scott Summers #Cyclops

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harfanfare · 3 years

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Pomegranate Rule || Idia Shroud x Reader

Obligatory pair work with someone you like very much on a school project and have a chance to fall for each other more? - cliché.

The difference with Idia was that he kidnapped his project partner.

Idia leaned out from behind the column, whispering words of encouragement and summoning up the plan of this meeting he compiled at yesterday’s evening. He practised this conversation all night in front of the mirror, but as soon as he gained confidence, he forgot the text and desperately searched for the next line in the script.

There was a faint blush on his pale cheeks. Not from the sun, not from the fatigue, but nervousness. He hadn't left his room for someone in a long time, and what he was about to do required from him new social skills...

…to ask you to be his project partner, that’s it.

Ortho stood right next to Idia, leaning out from behind his older brother's silhouette and shifting his gaze once at the courtyard, once at him.

Idia cuffed his fingers on the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

Ortho's presence helped him a lot to keep on the promise he made to himself: today he will actually talk to you not on the phone, but face-to-face and suggest that you could do Sir Crewel’s project together.

He knew that you didn’t have a pair, since Grim went off where he could bug Adeuce combo, and even if he didn’t, you two would be counted as one student. But, to at least make some progress, you were picking up leaves you suspected to be just right for the experiment.

With each bush, you were getting closer and closer to the column behind which Idia was hiding, and he knew that if he won’t hurry with his proposal, someone will enter the square, dispatch the last pieces of Idia's courage and disperse you, and take you away.

For example someone like Epel and Jack, who have just entered the courtyard using the entrance on the opposite side.

This coincidence seemed to Idia to be as unfortunate as if all the forces of the world wanted to stop him from what he was planning and yet to validate his theory that it was not worth ever leave his room. On the other hand, since he was already here, and it took him a good few dozen attempts to motivate himself, he could not lose this unstarted game.

Idia, in an act of desperation, rushed towards you, hoping that the first-graders would not notice you.

You both keel over into the bushes as Jack and Epel headed towards you.

"Jack Howl, Epel Felmier!" Ortho greeted them, distracting all possible attention from the bushes that had just been approached by two people, both unaware of what was going on. "How is your project going? What topic did you choose?”

"Ortho-kun! What are you doing here?” Epel replied, coming closer to the young Shroud.

As Ortho distracted them with a conversation, Idia had an intimidating thought: what would happen if they saw your two in the bushes? He was madly blushing at the scenarios that created in his head. He put his hand on your lips—he was afraid that you would say anything that would attract unwanted attention—he slipped with you through the empty corridors to the dorm of Ignihyde.

…He forgot to explain what he was doing, and it likely looked like him committing a crime, but nothing will happen if he explains everything in his room, right...?

You were able to ask Idia what was he doing, once he closed the doors. Till then, on every question you asked he hissed “Sheesh! Do you want us to be found?!” and “P-please! Let us get to headquarters where I will… explain the mission…”.

Soon enough, you found yourself in his room; electronics was the main source of light, and the screens glowed bright blue around them. Although you didn't see any exposed windows or lamps lit to illuminate the room, everything was clearly visible.

There was a mess there, a mixture of the cardboard disorder that prevails after moving a house and the chaos of a man whose constantly working on something, desk always cluttered with papers, pens and documents.

You were sure you would stand on some lost Lego block or pin if you put your foot behind the bed where Idia has set you down.

“So, Idia,” you started. “…What exactly I am doing in your room?”

"Uh, well...” he stuttered, trying to remember the speech from yesterday's practices. “I wish I would know what you're doing here... I mean- I know why I brought you here. I wanted to ask you something. Ask, yes.”

"Ask? About what?” you didn't mention that you can ask outside of your own room, and you wasn’t going to correct that.

Idia tried to explain the whole situation. He skipped the preparation process, his speeches and ideas, he didn’t even mention the project, so all he said was hard-to-understand, abstract justification from the current situation.

He said, at least, that he came up with the idea to take you somewhere further away, where there were no people, as first-grades entered the courtyard.

“So I'm here by accident?" you asked after listening to Idia, slightly cocking your head at the side. “I don't understand…”

“It was an accident. A bit,” he wanted to loudly groan at his helplessness but finally bit his tongue. “I didn't want you here. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't plan on it. I mean- Aah, it’s so hard to explain!”

You waited in silence, only nodding, letting him take his time.

"Sorry, I just... I feel weird talking to you...” Idia admitted, lowering his head.

The definition of Idia’s "weirdness" was different from yours.

When you heard that he was calling you strange, you felt a pang in your heart. Really? After so many months of acquaintance and quite frequent texting on the phone, when finally there was one of those few moments when you could talk face-to-face, he says it's awkward?

The "weirdness" of that feeling in Idia was something he could not explain easily: the joy of talking to you, anxiety that he would say something wrong, an uncertainty that you would change your mind and stop talking to him, excitement because he knew how interesting person you are and the frustration for every accurate, teasing comment…

"Oh, I see," you tried not to sound depressing. "So let me leave.”

"No, wait, that's not what I meant..!”

Oh, no. Idia’ plan went downhill again.

Idia jumped to a drawer and started looking for something in it, digging through notebooks, cables and lost items.

“...Don't worry, Idia, we can end this conversation on the phone... or something.”

“No, no, no, wait, please!” discreetly took out a round metal box before he dashed to you, blocking the only way out, heavy equipment surrounding you that now seemed to be an impassable wall.

"Uh?"

He took the hard candy from the container he took from the shelf, though he did it so subtly, forcing himself to stare at you and keep your gaze from tearing away from him, so you couldn’t notice candy in his hand.

They were pomegranate drops that had been presented to him as a funny joke from a student who knew that a box, just like its contents, was enchanted by Vil's unique magic: whoever tasted them will not be able to move more than twenty meters from the place the fruit drop was eaten.

Haha, because you know, the members of Ignihyde don't go outside and won't even notice they were cursed.

Idia was sure that even Vil did not know that the candies had fallen into his hands.

"Huh? What are you-“

As soon as you opened your mouth, Idia pressed fruit drop up to your lips and covered them with his hand, in case you tried to spit it out. His movements became very mechanical and heavy, probably most of his muscles were strained. Because of that, you also couldn't push him away.

He only stepped out of your way you once swallowed the candy.

And so you were bound by a spell that you discovered the moment Idia let you towards the door. You stopped more than a meter from them, unable to even grasp the doorknob.

You swung your hand a few times as if not believing that none of your movements was moving you forward.

“Idia. I know we should talk, but by cutting me off from the door?”

Surprise with this solution, Idia's embarrassed smile, dripping sweat from the stress he felt, and a sudden dose of delicious sugar made you burst into laughter.

“This. Is. Great.” You accented each word, becoming more and more amused with each one as if you had just heard the best joke of the era. “Is it the fault of those drops?”

Idia, surprised by your reaction, finally relaxed. Your sudden, inexplicable outburst, hearty laugh calmed him down a lot. He even came to the conclusion that he really likes the way you laugh.

Ortho soon entered the room. You two shortened the story and explained that you probably have to stay here for the night.

"Oh, so nii-san finally asked you to do a project with him?"

“Project...?” you repeated. Then you turned your head to Idia and smirked at him. “So that was what it was for?”

He answered you with a shrug as if last day Idia didn’t have any thoughts screaming “Project!” and that followed by “[Name]!”.

However, Ortho said it for him.

Idia, of course, tried to stop him, but Ortho knew how much time his brother spent just planning to talk to you. A wave of shame flooded Idia as you listened to Ortho's words with interest. And maybe with a pinch of delight spilling over your heart—Idia did so much for you! You could feel the flush on your face and a smile spread across your lips every time you heard about Idia's efforts.

Soon after, after the excitement of this conversation had died down and you thanked Idia for his planning efforts, a package of cookies and biscuits was opened. You couldn't go to the cafeteria to eat anything, and even ordinary snacks from school vending machines taste better in pleasant company, right?

“We haven't had many opportunities to talk like that, have we?"

You took a sip of the warm tea Idia had made—it was incredibly bitter but chilled enough not to burn your tongue—and watched the screen where Idia was working.

He pushed himself away from writing some codes with some slowness, but he didn't look at you.

“You're right...”

After a pause, he started speaking again, this time in a whisper, but you heard him very clearly.

"I've always admired you, [Name]-shi..." he said, pressing his knees against his chest. “Talking to so many different people and solving their problems... I often find it tedious and self-righteous to interfere in the affairs of others, however…. Everything you do always ends well. I-I couldn't do that.”

“I should be saying it!” You said after a moment of silence as if you were processing words you completely didn't suspect him of. “You deal with electronics like a professional. Wait, you are the professional! How many programming languages have you already mastered? How many devices have you already created? You have a wonderful talent and... even your brother little is proof of it.”

You both looked at Ortho connected to specialized equipment. "CHARGING" was displayed on the screen, and by minutes the numbers were close to 100%.

Idia didn't smile at your words—instead he seemed incredibly focused. With each passing second, he had a more and more sincere expression of pleasant frustration, which was also reflected in his long hair behind which he tried to hide his face.

He couldn't even answer and just nodded.

"And... I have to confess to something," you began after another minute of pleasant silence, which you felt sorry to interrupt. "If you previously seemed quite average to me, maybe even a little pale-faced, now I know that you are special."

These words were already his limit. He couldn't take his eyes off you, forgot how to breathe, forgot how to blink, and his lungs refused to cooperate.

His heart crashed for good after your next words.

"So... if you please," you got up and smiled at him. “Idia Shroud, will you do me this honour and become my project partner?”

"The curse already faded.”

You could reach the door and go to the farthest corners of the room. You could leave.

The project has been completed. With the light help of Ortho, who also wanted to contribute to the project, by two in the morning, you finished doing experiments, writing out data, conclusions and completing them with graphic documentation.

And then you played games for the next three hours; each game was digital and very engaging—it wasn't for Ortho, you and Idia wouldn't fall asleep even for a minute. Even when you went to bed—and there was a whole five-minute debate about where you were going to sleep—you talked in whispers about everything and nothing until one of you fell asleep.

Even if the attachment to Vil's magic was gone, you couldn't deny that you became attached to a certain blue-haired boy who followed the last lines of your conclusions with his golden eyes.

It was really fun.

He and Ortho probably would have done this project faster, but the collaboration of the three—you, Ortho and Idia—seemed so pleasant that if he could, he would do it once again. Even if that meant another research about hyper-difficult projects Crewel liked to torture his students with.

"I will come again," you said as suddenly as if you were reading his mind. He flinched at those words, and your tone of voice changed to a more biting tone. “You don't have to kidnap me this time.”

"I d-didn't..." he tried to deny but was stuck on the next words. “...Really? Will you really come here?”

“Your charm bound me more than candy, I can promise you,” you gave him one last smile before you closed the door behind you and rushed through the corridor with a strange, blissful feeling, looking forward to your next project.

So did he.

#I liked writing it a lot hahah #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x reader #twst idia #twst idia shroud #twst idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland idia

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kinglivv · 2 years

Note

is it okay if i put in a request? :) if not, i understand. I was thinking maybe the Reader is a sassy loving, caring but also smart, dangerous girl who travels with the Doctor ( 13? ) and maybe she is on her time of the month and having killer cramps/body pains. So like she becomes more funny, witty, vulnerable but trying to fight through it, adorable than usual? 13 is in love with her and the Reader loves her too but both are oblivious to the other's feelings. A sense of taking care of the Reader even though the Reader feels guilty about 13 doing that and trying to fight it. Maybe the feelings come out near the end and the imagine can be sweet, fluffy, romantic and a little funny?

Anything For You

13th Doctor x Reader

Summary: The reader has their period, but they don't want the Doctor to find out how painful their cramps are for fear she'll see them as weak. She finds out of course!

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry this was so late! The fic disappeared into my abyss of drafts but it's here and finished now :)

You bite your lip, fingernails almost snapping as they dig into the ceramic of the sink while you glare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your legs feel wobbly and you keel over slightly, forehead pressing against the glass as you will the pain to subside.

Your period cramps were usually bad, but they hadn't been this bad in a long while. Previously, you'd always managed to get away with hiding them from the Doctor, but you knew no amount of ibruprofen would be helping you now.

"Y/N, you ready?" You hear her call from outside your room, and you jump away from the sink. God you were so in love with her, and just the sound of her voice made your stomach twist in a way that didn't really help the cramps.

Time to put your brave face on.

"Coming!" You yell back, giving yourself one last glance, making sure you looked normal. You couldn't let the Doctor think you were weak. She thought of you as brave, funny, charming, clever. Different. Most definitely not weak.

Ignoring your cramps, you follow her voice.

"I'm thinkin' Gakrilo!" She beams up at you from the console, the warm yellow light bouncing off her skin. "They've got loads of cool stuff - ancient cities, all sorts of species. Sort of like Earth, but the dominant species have these green tentacles which..."

She goes on, and you watch, a smile on your face as she whizzes around the console. Her coat flaps out behind her, her hair sticking out in odd places. She pulls a lever, the wheezing of the TARDIS signalling you've landed, and you run towards the doors, flinging them open without a second thought. Even cramps couldn't stop you from exploring.

"Looks good, huh?" The Doctor appears behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as you look out. There's greenery, lots of it, and an blue stone path leading into a village square.

You wince as another wave of pain hits you. Your head's beginning to ache too now.

"It looks brilliant!" You beam, and her expression matches yours.

She takes your hand, and you follow her down the path into the quaint little village, which has purple cobbled streets and yellow inhabitants. You're biting your lip very hard you walk through the pain. You hope the Doctor doesn't notice you squeezing her hand a bit tighter than usual.

"Ooh! Yashants!" The Doctor lights up, rushing over to what looks like a bakery.

"Don't you mean croissants?"

"No! Yashants are these little pastry things with a delicious goo inside and - well. You've got to taste them!"

And with that you're being dragged inside a bakery. You're not really in the mood to eat, and the smell of food doesn't much help your nausea. You watch the Doctor with a paleing face as she purchases you two each.

This is fine. You think. I can do this. Just be yourself. Make sure she doesn't find out.

"Come on." She grins, handing you one as you make your way outside.

On another day, this treat in your hand would probably appear delicious. Today however, it makes your stomach churn. But you hold it out in front of you - you can't let the Doctor see that you're anything but your usual bubbley self.

Then a cramp hits you. A big one.

That coupled with the smell makes you double over in pain and there's no use hiding it now as you whimper.

"Y/N!" The Doctor grabs you, alarmed. "Y/N are you okay, love?"

She slides an arm around your waist and you lean against her, catching your breath.

"Can you walk? We need to get you to the Medbay."

You feel your face flush as you stumble slightly, trying to catch your breath as she leads you back towards the TARDIS. You hated the Doctor seeing you like this. You hated her seeing you as weak, futile, human.

"Come on," she helps you inside, worry painted over her face, "I hope it's not an allergic reaction to the Yashants. That would be miserable."

"No," you pracitically wheeze, the door swinging shut behind you, "it's just m'period."

"Your what?"

"My... period."

"Oh." The Doctor says dumbly, staring at you. "Oh. Oh, of course! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Can I - can I just sit down?" You couldn't bear this.

"Sure. Of course. Anything you need."

She hurriedly, but gently, leads you to one of the sofas the TARDIS had put especially for you in the console room. You liked to spend your evenings watching the Doctor work around the console, chatting and reading your book as you did so.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" The Doctor asks as you sink into it. She's crouched at your feet. "I've got loads of things for human menstruation. I could have helped."

"It's stupid." You bring your knees to your chest, and that helps ease the pain a little, "we've got more important things to be getting on with."

"Do we? You being comfortable is top of my priority list, Y/N. Can't have an uncomfortable Y/N. I hate to see you hurting."

"I don't want you to see me hurting!"

"Why?"

You sigh, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

"Because it's just inconvenient for you, isn't it?" You half ask, half state. "I mean, you're a Timelord - you don't have to worry about periods or pains or not having enough energy. I'm a human and I'm fragile, and I'd hate of you to think of me as that."

You can see she's slightly surprised by your statement - you're usually so light-hearted and unserious.

"Y/N," she reaches down and squeezes your hands in hers. "You really think I'd ever see you like that? You're so much more - you're bright and clever and funny and I could never see you as an inconvenience. Your human and that's why I love... spending time with you."

You give her a watery smile.

"Thank you. I just didn't want to burden you."

She smiles, "What can I get you?"

"Two ibruprofen and some hot chocolate please," you ask meakly, "If it's alright."

"Oh, Y/N," she mumbles, pressing a kiss into your hair. "When will you realise that I'd do anything for you?"

Taglist: @truthbehindthemysteries @queerconfusionthings @xenteaart @actuallyanita @ateliefloresdaprimavera @persephonehemingway @fabulous-jj-style @anteroom-of-death @thewinterpoet2

#doctor who #13th doctor #series 13 #mandip gill #thirteenth doctor #13th doctor x reader #13 x reader #13 x you #thirteenth doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x you #13th doctor imagine #jodie whittaker #jodie whittaker x reader #jodie whittaker x you #jodie whittaker imagine #gender neutral reader #doctor who: flux #dan lewis #yasmin khan

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wypapichulo · 3 years

Text

𝟕 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

pairing ; lee donghyuck x reader genre ; fluff, very very slight angst / high school au word count ; 5010 words warnings ; some explicit language? the use of the word 'shit' a few times? playlist ; dive into you – nct dream | walk you home – nct dream | best friend – rex orange county | anti-romantic – txt | can't take my eyes off you – frankie valli | backyard boy – claire rosinkranz author's note ; i hope the ending doesn't sound too rushed,, aah i just lost the vibe and wanted to get it done ;,, i hope it's alright🚶 dt ; @matchaeee <3

Making someone you don't know fall for you would have been easier. Making your best friend fall in love with you? A little bit more of a hassle But not unless they've been in love with you from the start.

“I can make her fall in love with me in 7 days”

Haechan had said this whilst he was sitting on the sidewalk in front of the small convenience store beside an exasperated looking Jeno. “Hyuck, I’m pretty sure you can’t.”, “No I’m confident!” He continued, sipping his carbonated drink and cutting Jeno off as he spoke, “Look– I know her inside and out, I’m sure I know just the right tricks to make her fall for me!”

Jeno sighed slightly, knowing it was no use to force Haechan to listen to him. “You shouldn’t play with feelings like this…” He started, taking a sip of his own soda, “Can’t you just tell her you like her like a normal person–“, “you’re seriously no fun.” Jeno deadpanned at the statement, hand ready to reach for the brunets to pull his fingers back, “I just wanna see if she really likes me back for real!” he said, hands fidgeting with the rim of the soda can, “I don’t know, what if she doesn’t like me and rejects me when I ask her!”

“So the only logical way to fix that is by ‘making her fall in love with you in seven days’?!” Jeno exclaimed, nearly in tears at his own friend’s stupidity. Haechan grinned, “well if she doesn’t like me yet, she’ll definitely like me by the end of this.”

“I’m going to forget about him in the next 7 days.”

Renjun looked up in surprise at the girl’s statement, never having thought of the day she’d finally say it.

“You won’t.” He stated simply, continuing to sketch the tree outside the window of her room. She whined slightly, turning her attention to the boy in her room, “and what makes you say that?”

“You said that two years ago.”, “I was younger then!”, “Sure you were.”

She groaned, falling back on her bed with a thud, “I need to try… this one-sided shit is getting to me…”

Turning to look at the heap of sadness on the bed, Renjun sighed quietly. “I definitely won’t question you if you tell me you’re still in love with him by the end of it.”

“I’m only trying right?”

DAY 1

“How you doin’ gorgeous~”

To say she was shocked was an understatement. What?

“What do you want Hyuck.” She asked with a deadpan, staring down at the blank page of her notebook. Her plan was to study but it seemed as if the man duped as her best friend had other ideas. “I don’t want anything! Can’t I say nice things about you?” He said, taking the seat across from her.

The library was quiet, save for the few students chattering mutedly by the computers. The whole day Haechan had been fine– normal, so to speak… He sat next to her as usual during lunch–as they barely shared any classes this school year–and joked around for a bit, he stole the milk that she had painstakingly waited behind a line of first years to buy, giving her a presumably empty promise that he’d buy her another one… but then he came in the library and said that?

“You’ve never called me that before,” she scoffed, “and if you have, I’d remember.”

Of course she would. Somehow every compliment he had given her always stuck in her mind, even the few ingenuine ones that came out as jokes. The time he called her quick witted when she replied to one of his jokes, the time he said she was pretty good at math’s when she had explained to him how to find an axis… And of course there was the time he had exclaimed how she was prettier than the girl she had been talking shit about… not one of her best feats but... it was something.

So to have him call her gorgeous, even if it was just as a passing nickname… it was something that made her cheeks burn when she remembered his exact wording of the sentence.

“Well that doesn’t matter does it?” he said, leaning over the table to read through the same passage as she had been going through for the last hour, trying to fit anything and everything in her head. “Are you having trouble with anything?”

“Nothing you can help me with.” She scoffed, turning a page. “Aw, come on, don’t say that!” he laughed aloud, earning him an abundance of shushes from the few students scattered around the area. “I’m sure I, with my great expertise, can help you in some way with–“ he looked down at the chapter’s name, “intercontinental… exchange… what the hell is this–“

She laughed lightly at his confusion, “It’s economics,” she smiled, making his heart race with anticipation for some unknown reason, “you won’t get it.”

“Well maybe if you taught me, I’d understand.” He chuckled softly, sitting properly once more and sighing as he stared at the soft curve of her lips. She blushed lightly, realizing the direction of his eyes and looking back down to her book.

Barely the first day and she was already smitten once more with him… she wondered if she’d ever manage to escape from the trap that was Lee Donghyuck.

DAY 2

Closing her locker up, she nearly went into cardiac arrest as she saw none other than Haechan leaning on the locker right beside hers.

“Donghyuck! You almost gave me a heart attack!” she exclaimed, heart pounding at a thousand beats per second… or not– maybe she was just exaggerating…

He smirked, an image that had always and forever will be engraved into the crevices of her mind. “I hope that’s a good thing?”

She merely rolled her eyes at him, shoving her textbook into her backpack. “no.” she stated with a deadpan, turning to walk away. “Wait uppp!” he whined, following along behind the exasperated girl. If Jeno was tired of him, then she was something else entirely. How she managed to keep up with the outgoing boy was a mystery even to herself.

“Are you busy this weekend?” he asked as he caught up with her and took long steps to follow along with her short quick paces, “I was thinking maybe we could go to that new café that just opened– you know, the library one?”

She kept on walking, but her pace slowed significantly. A small tell to her interest in the subject. He smiled.

“You don’t even like reading much.” She said with a chuckle, “why’d you wanna go there?” She asked softly glancing up at him. “Well… you like reading… so–“ he shrugged slightly “–I thought you’d enjoy it…”

See this was the thing about him. Whenever she had made a commitment to stop thinking about him–leave her feelings for him in the dust–he’d always come back strong, making her feel as if he never wanted her to stop liking him. But what could she do? It seemed as if he never had the slightest interest in being anything other than friends.

She smiled softly, sighing as she opened her mouth to give out a small, “alright.” As her answer to his invitation.

“Great! It’s a date!”

The four words stopped her in her tracks between the horde of students walking to and from to get to their classes.

He only grinned, turning to face her as he walked backwards. “I’ll see you after class!”

She was frozen in place it seemed. Blinking as she watched the retreating back of the boy who had… just asked her out?

Again, confusion had begun to settle in. Was this ‘date’ meant to be a romantic date? Or just– one where they hung out as friends and had coffee?

In her confusion, she had forgotten to ask him about the exact day of which their little ‘date’ was supposed to be on… but she was sure he’d text her everything she needed to know about it, right down to the dress code.

Retracing her thoughts, maybe she was wrong… this might have been the first time he’d ever shown any interest in being anything more than friends… And to be quite honest, it may or may not have scared her…

What would she do if it turned out he really had feelings for her…? DAY 3

“I thought you said you were going to stop liking him.”

She had found Renjun in the art room as per usual, painting away at whatever his heart had decided to explore. The golden particles drifted in from the late afternoon sun as she had just finished up her own after school activity. “I want to… But he’s making it so hard!” she exclaimed, sitting on a table to the side at the back of the room.

Renjun was somehow her only sane friend, and even so, he preferred to stay out of her messy love life with the undeniably annoying Haechan. Not to mention that he couldn’t even talk to Haechan without bursting a nerve. “I don’t understand how you don’t see how annoying the boy is.” He said nonchalantly as he continued to mix and match an array of greens to the trees he had started on. “Just thinking of that should be enough to stir you away from him.”

Sighing in aggravation to her situation, she sticked out her tongue at the back of his head. “I saw that.” He stated, barely even looking up from his canvas. “’course you did…” she grumbled lowly, pouting and looking out of the window.

“That’s just the thing…” she started, her tone soft and her eyes unfocused, “he’s not… annoying…”

Renjun scoffed aloud, nearly keeling over in laughter. “Are you sure about that?” He said in between his dying giggles, turning to finally look at the girl who was now looking at him with an unamused look. “Shut up– you know what I mean!” she cried out in annoyance. He made a face, turning back to his painting and continuing to work on the piece. “Really, when you get to know him– he’s more than that!” she tilted her head back to rest on the cool wall of the classroom.

“Today he actually got me the milk I wanted…” she muttered softly, “It’s not much of course… but…”

“You said the other day that you had to wait a long time to get the milk cause of those underclassmen, so– y’know– I got it for you.”

“But it’s enough for you to stay deeply in love with him isn’t it.” Renjun sighed, knowing that she would start yelling as soon as the thought sunk in her head.

To his surprise, she didn’t. She simply sat in thought in the back of the class, watching as Renjun shrugged and continued with his painting. She mulled it over, what he said, and came to the personal conclusion that he in fact was right. It was no use in fighting the feeling. She really did care for him… a little afraid to say love– but she cared for him immensely nonetheless.

She got off the table and walked towards where Renjun sat with his canvas and patted his shoulder lightly.

“Thanks Renjunnie.”

“I told you not to call me that… makes me sound like a child...” He murmured, rolling his eyes before continuing, “what are you even thanking me for anyways? I didn’t do anything. The feelings were there the whole time.”

Her lips turned up slightly, and she hummed softly before walking towards the door.

“You did more than you think.” She said, turning to look at him once more as she opened the door. He merely looked at her in puzzlement, not understanding just how he had helped her in her quest of love. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

“Yeah… see you…” he muttered quietly, his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion, before shaking his head as the door fell shut.

“Why are all my friends so weird…”

DAY 4

The living room of her house was spacious.

Very much so that she wondered why it felt as if she couldn’t even get a distance away from the clingy boy.

Haechan had come over to help her with some of her class work she was struggling with, and truly, she couldn’t thank him enough for the help… but why did he have to sit so close to her?

He had been reading a passage out to her from the book, shoulders brushing ever so slightly against one another, causing her cheeks to flare with heat. Every single move he made seemed to make her tense up all the more.

She was never like this! Each time they had studied together, even as much as she liked him, it never caused her to blush or fidget as much as she was doing now.

Maybe it was the effect of realizing that he might like her after all… The last three days were such an improvement in that area of their relationship that it made her wonder if he actually had liked her all along and just decided to showcase it all now.

“And that’s why the tectonic pressure in this area is much larger than here.” He explained– arm stretching slightly over her to point at an image on the book. For some unknown reason, she had held her breath ever so slightly as to maybe become stone in the next few seconds. He turned to look at her– their faces not too far from one another, and it was like time had stopped right in that moment, just to make her realize how much trouble she was in by falling for this forsaken boy. She could feel her face redden to the deep color of the roses on the front porch of her house, and suddenly, all she wanted to do was melt into a puddle right there and then.

Oddly enough, he seemed to be reactionless. It was as if the proximity of their faces had absolutely no effect on his own heart, bringing up the question in her mind once more whether he actually held any feelings for her other than the simple platonic ones.

“You weren’t paying attention were you?”

Her eyebrows raised to her hairline, quite literally, at the accusing statement he had thrown upon her. “I– Hey! I was listening!”

Suddenly every single feeling of embarrassment left her body as she pushed him playfully, as a means to get away from him as well. He yelped aloud, his back hitting the couch. “You weren’t!” he called out, a smile beginning to grow on the edges of his lips, “I can tell when you’re listening and when you’re not! And here, you were clearly not!”

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back as she did so. It had been ages since she had laughed so freely, and Haechan soaked up every single moment of it. His smile softened as he watched she tips of her eyes crinkle up and turn into crescents– the sound of her laughter as melodious as his own favorite song. In the moment, he wished so dearly he could just reach over and kiss her face all over, his heard filling up with affection he wished to shower her with.

Her laughter died down and she simply turned to look at him with a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “I really haven’t laughed that much in a while…” she said softly, watching as he nodded in listening. “I can tell.”

She giggled lightly once more. “Should we go back to studying?” she asked, a teasing smile gracing her features, to which he merely scoffed and laughed at.

“Only if you’ll listen properly this time.”

Another 3 days to go. If he was able to successfully make her fall for him, he’d be able to do all he wanted and more. DAY 5

So maybe accepting a walk home from the person you’re trying to forget about isn’t the best strategy to go with… but– in defense, Haechan had been more the one to tag along home, rather than ask her if she wanted anyone to walk her.

She had gotten used to it… but with the antics of the past week and the upcoming date on the Sunday (Yes he had given her all the information the night before. Yes he sent her every available picture there was of the place. Yes he was very excited and honestly, so was she.), who wouldn’t?

As Saturday was a day where she and the rest of the ’00 liners’–as they all preferred to call themselves (though their whole school year was the ’00 line’ so honestly that nickname was rather stupid)–usually had a game night at either Jeno or Jaemin’s house, both she and Haechan had settled on going to the cute little library-esque café on the Sunday.

The whole way home, Haechan couldn’t help but stare softly as she recounted the events of the day. Again, being in different classes had its perks, as there was always something new to tell each other about.

Every step he took felt heavier. He knew they both were getting closer to her house– every time he saw a bench on the side of the street his instinct would tell him to sit down with her and just talk for longer, wanting to keep all her minutes for himself selfishly.

“So that’s why she was kicked out of the class today– I honestly can’t believe she had the nerve to pull that off!” laughing slightly, she turned to face Haechan, “I’m sure you’d do some stupid shit like that too.”

Haechan snapped out of his short daze if not to cry out words of denial, causing her to laugh even louder at his insistence that he would not blend and eat drink his homework just to get extra time on a project.

“After all, I’m not stupid– I don’t need extra project time since I’m just that smart!” He huffed, glancing to the girl beside him to see if he had gauged a reaction out of her. To his delight, she laughed once more, letting him relish in her melodic laughter. “you’re really full of yourself you know?”

This erupted another fit of laughter and denial to spurt from the two, pitter patting home for the day. “I’m not full of myself! I’m just confident!”, “same difference, Hyuck.” She said between breaths as her laughter finally died down.

He merely huffed and pouted– turning to the side and glancing at her a few times to gain her remorse for her mean words ; it clearly didn’t work as all she did was giggle softly and shook her head.

The brush of the back of their hands made his heart pound faster. He glanced down to look and there it was, the soft hand he wanted to hold in his so much. He looked back up in a panic– noticing that they were getting closer to her house.

Unknown to him, her heart was just as heavy at the thought of having to part with him for the day. Though she knew tomorrow would be another day that would definitely be spent with him, it made her sorrowful to think of the fact that they’d have to be apart for the night. Cheesy as it may seem.

As they stood in front of the pathway up to her front door, he debated internally on whether or not he should do what he wanted to do or not, his head spinning at the thought of her maybe thinking he was an idiot for what he was about to do. She smiled up at him, a silent goodbye being exchanged between them, before turning around to walk up the pavement to her house.

“(Y/N)!”

Her feet stopped, and in turn, so did her heart. In a good way, of course, but it stopped nonetheless. She stayed silent for a moment before turning to face the brunet once more. “Yeah?” she asked quietly, a soft smile present on her features.

His mouth dried up. He had nothing to say– stupid! Why did he stop her like that then?

“I– Uh…” he faltered in his words; eyes still stuck on her face. Lips, to be specific.

She tilted her head slightly in question, wondering what was going through that enigma of a mind everyone called Haechan. “Hyuck?”

He smiled and shook his head, opting to grin at her like the idiot in love he was. “Until we meet again tomorrow~” he said in a mock posh accent which made her giggle lightly behind her hand. She merely shook her head and turned once more, walking up to her front door and opening it slowly, turning to give him one last smile before she closed the door.

There he stood like a lovestruck fool in the middle of her driveway as he watched her back turn as she finally walked into the house.

“I wish I had the courage to give you that hug…” DAY 6

Jeno’s house was the choice of the week, Haechan and Jaemin having pestered him into agreement over where they’d all be bundling into for the afternoon.

“I really don’t see why it should have to be my house!” Jeno whined as he stepped into the living room with snacks in hand, “It was already my house last week! It should be nana’s this week…” he trailed off, grumbling as he stepped over the legs of a serious Haechan and sat between the sole girl in their group and Jaemin on the floor. Jaemin laughed aloud, “you have the comfiest sofa!” he hollered out, earning him a kick from Renjun, who’s legs he was sitting in between.

“You’re not even sitting on the sofa,” Renjun retaliated for Jeno, cutting him some slack, “you’re leaning on my legs.”

“Well they sure are comfy if that’s what you’re implying.” Jaemin said, pressing at the buttons erratically as he flurried to beat Haechan at what seemed to be a simple game of mario kart. Hey, anything to beat Haechan right?

“DAMN!” Haechan yelled, causing the girl seated beside him to jump slightly in her seat. Jaemin only laughed, leaning his head up to look at an unimpressed Renjun.

“Hyuck give me the controller, I’m gonna beat Jaemin.” Renjun said with some form of courage to beat the one and only Nana. “Sure you are,” he said, standing up and handing the controller over to Renjun. “Anymore soda anyone?” he asked, stepping to the side to head over to the kitchen. “I’ll have a soda!”, “alrighty! One soda coming right up!” Haechan called out, turning right out to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna run out of sodas at the rate you’re drinking them…” Jeno murmured to her softly, a giggle erupting out of her lips, “fine then– I’ll have a cup of tea instead, ‘s that better?” she asked softly, smiling at the black-haired boy beside her. Jeno smiled back, his eyes disappearing behind his perfect crescents, “I’ll go get you some then.” He said, standing up from his seat to get her some tea.

Walking into the kitchen, he tutted lightly as he found Haechan going through his fridge. “And what if my mom was the one who had walked in?” Jeno stated with a deadpan, rolling his eyes at the idiotic grin his friend gave him. “First off– she’s not home. Second off– your mom loves me!” Haechan exclaimed, closing the fridge behind him after finding nothing of his interest. He picked up the sodas on the counter– before Jeno stopped him. “She changed her mind on the sodas, said she’d have tea instead.” He explained, moving to the cabinets to take out some tea to brew for her, to which Haechan simply hummed in understanding before cracking one of the soda cans open and sipping it.

“So…” Jeno started, turning to face him as he leaned on the counter behind him, “how’s the love quest?” He queried, wondering about his best friends own pursuit of love. “Is she ‘in love’ with you yet?”

Haechan shrugged slightly, “I sure hope she is… if not then I’m not sure what I’m gonna do tomorrow…”

“Why… What’s tomorrow?” Jeno questioned again, tilting his head in confusion. In Haechan’s mind… he looked rather like a lost puppy…

“Date.” The only word that came out of Haechan’s mouth as he stared with a smirk on his face to the boy standing opposite him.

Jeno’s eyes widened significantly, “Date? You mean you asked her out successfully?”

Haechan grinned, “Of course I did!”, he boasted smugly, “only a fool wouldn’t be able to make her fall in love! Especially with the shitty dudes she’s liked before.”

Jeno looked up in glee, “then– after that– my days of hell are over! I won’t have to listen to your lamenting again!” He whined when Jeno exclaimed that, shaking his head, “I wasn’t lamenting, you were the one who complained about my topic of conversation–“ he paused, rolling his eyes at the grinning puppy-like boy.

“Alright fine maybe I was,” he agreed begrudgingly, “But hey! I managed to make her fall in love with me AND score a date in 7 days! My lamenting wasn’t for nothing after all!”

Their shared laughter was cut short by the sound of the slamming of the front door and the cries of both Renjun and Jaemin. Haechan looked up worriedly at Jeno, who in turn gestured him to the kitchen exit.

“what’s wrong?” Haechan asked once he reached by the front door beside the other two boys. “You!” Renjun seethed, turning to glare at the brunet, “She was already trying to forget about you and now you play with her feelings like this!”

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Haechan scoffed, “I never played her like shit! I was always honest!”, “Then tell me what this stupid 7 day bet is all about!” Renjun yelled in his face, angry for his best friend who had muffled out in tears the short reason she was leaving so early.

“Bet?” he questioned, truly confused as to the entirety of the situation, “what fucking bet?”

Renjun rolled his eyes, “Don’t play stupid Donghyuck. You were talking to Jeno about some 7 day bet to get her to like you or something–”, “wait, this is all wrong!” Jeno exclaimed, “We never made a bet! Hyuck wanted to confess to her at the end of the week, and that’s why the whole week he had been making proper advances to her…”

The room stilled as the clarity of the situation which was misunderstood settled into their heads.

“I need to talk to (Y/N).” DAY 7

Checking her phone, she grumbled slightly, rereading the message that Haechan had sent to her the evening prior, or rather, spammed her endlessly.

hyuck ♡ : please come tomorrow.

hyuck ♡ : i really really have to talk to you about this :((

hyuck ♡ : please please please

hyuck ♡ : I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t come :(((

hyuck ♡ : please? At least consider it?

Sighing quietly as she scrolled through the abundance of messages of theirs from previous sleepless nights, she jumped when she heard the call of the voice she had cried herself to sleep over the night before. Oh his treacherous voice, hurting her feelings like that with the words that came out of his wretched mouth yesterday.

“(Y/N)!” he said, jogging up to her with a grin spread on his face, almost as if yesterday had been a dream and she had simply hallucinated the entire event. But she knew better than to believe him that fast.

Giving him a curt nod, she spoke up before anything could leave his mouth– “Tell me, Donghyuck, what happened yesterday?” she started, face hard with the cut still deep in her heart. His smile faltered, realizing just how much his words had hurt her feelings the day before.

“Do you take my feelings as a joke?” she asked again, looking to her feet in fear of her eyes betraying her and leaving tear stains across her cheeks, “because if you do then i–“

“No!” he cut, knowing that if he let this go on for longer it would only hurt her more, “No, I’d never!”

She was quiet, listening to the sound of his ragged breathing, almost as if the quietness would let her hear the sound of his heartbeat.

“Then what… what…”

He sighed softly, “I was… scared.”

Looking up, she was met with the troubled face of the person she once thought to be the largest of mysteries. “I didn’t want to be faced with rejection, I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you, as a friend or as…” he cleared his throat slightly, turning to the side, “as something more.”

The tension was thick, the street around them continuing on its route of life whilst they both stood in their own quiet bubble. Her eyes softened at his statement, the pieces of the puzzle which was Haechan starting to become clearer by every word.

“And you thought the most logical way to go, was to ‘make me fall in love with you in seven days’? come on Hyuck we’re not in some stupid romance movie–“, Haechan’s whine cut her voice short, “You sound just like Jeno now!” he cried, making her laugh softly, before stepping forward to take his hand in hers.

He looked down at their intertwined hands and looked right back up at her questioningly. “what…”

“If you liked me, you really should have just said so…” she muttered softly, shaking her head with a slight giggle, “If you did, it definitely would have saved us 7 days.”

He grinned widely, “so this… makes us boyfriend and girlfriend now, right?” he asked, grin turning into a teasing smirk on his face, making the girl before him scoff and laugh.

“We’ll see in 7 days.”

198 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

We get our first glimpse of Finn, who is still in Saint Clair orphanage. Finn has worked out that Crucio is being given to the orphans because it allows them to see their families again and makes them want to stay at Saint Clair so they can keep receiving it—even if it means reliving memories every day that are not their own. Finn doesn’t want that at all, and he’s been in solitary for the last week because he refuses to eat, realizing that the drug is mixed in with the food.

Luke is struggling with his mother, who seems to be delighted that Luke’s father is gone. She has completely transformed into a woman Luke doesn’t recognize, offering him alcohol, and wanting to get rid of Luke’s father’s things. Luke escapes her words, retreating to his father’s study where he can take Crucio and re-arrange the events in his own mind, making it so his father never got taken away.

Remus and Sirius, at James’ house for a movie night, have an awkward exchange in the kitchen. Remus wants to ask Sirius if he wants to go sailing with him, quickly realizing the unexplainable but seemingly unavoidable crush he’s developed on Sirius, but they get interrupted by Saint.

Saint asks Remus to help him sneak into The Hogwarts History Museum, where Remus is working for the summer, but when Remus refuses, guesses he has to take matters into his own hands.

Saint finds Luke on the grasses with the others, watching a movie. Luke wants his father’s watch, which Saint stole, back, but Saint refuses. Luke can’t believe Saint has never seen many movies, but rudely puts it up to Saint’s “fucked childhood.” They argue, and it just makes Saint quietly angrier. Saint thinks more deeply about it than he lets on, though, reflecting on people’s need to control things—a need that Crucio plays on. Saint leaves, but not after stealing the keys to Luke’s car, deciding he can control things a different way—with ancient gold from an ancient pirate ship, perhaps.

Sirius follows Saint out of the house. He can tell that he’s more on edge than usual, that he has been ever since Logan arrived. Saint won’t tell him what he wants from the museum, though—a treasure map to the Voldemort. Sirius is hurt. He’s angry at himself for liking Remus. Both Sirius and Saint, it seems, have a hard time distinguishing pity and friendship.

Leo and Logan are waiting for Saint so that they can all go to the museum together. Leo asks about Finn and finds out that Logan and Finn are in love, that they’re everything to each other. It stings Leo’s slowly developing feelings for Logan.

Remus and Sirius go to the history museum to try and thwart Saint and find out he’s working with Logan and Leo, and that they’re all after The Voldemort. Saint confesses he’s trying to help Sirius, to Sirius’ surprise. Leo wants to finish his father’s work. Logan wants Finn—but no one seems willing to help him bust Finn out. When they find the drawer where the map should be kept in the museum’s archive room, however, it’s gone, having been taken out on loan by Luke’s father, Victor Deveaux. Victor and Luke loved the tale of the treasure, too. Perhaps it has something to do with Victor being sent to jail.

They go to Luke’s house where Saint climbs through Luke’s bedroom window. Saint studies a sleeping Luke, a strange, unexpected constant—a brooding, rude, beautiful one, that is. And oh, how Saint hates letting things surprise him. Saint wakes Luke, who has taken Crucio, and plans to use his father’s watch as leverage to get Luke to help them find the map.

*****cw: mentions of drugs, mentions of use of drugs, mentions of past deaths, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood*****

part vii

Luke’s father was standing over Remus’ shoulder, flickering as the Felix wore off, and it was really fucking with Luke’s head.

“Some fellow treasure hunters,” his father said with one of his soft smiles. “Sounds fun.”

“Sober up,” Remus’ voice filtered in. “What makes you sober up?”

“I’m not drunk.”

Luke watched Remus just shake his head at him. His father’s flickering frame was looking closely at Saint, who was picking up everything in sight.

“We both know what you are,” Remus replied. “Now, come on. Coffee? Anything I can do without waking your mom up.”

“She’s not going to wake up,” Luke rubbed his eyes. “She takes these—sleeping things, I don’t know.”

“Well—“ Remus hesitated. Behind him, Luke’s father flickered out.

“I’m fine,” Luke said. “What’s going on?”

“We’re bargaining, remember?” Saint held up Luke’s father’s watch again. “Tell me about your father, Deveaux.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“Well, Lupin’s already told us a little. You, him, and your treasure hunting days.”

Luke looked at Remus, who looked half-guilty and half-curious. “You mean—like when we were kids?”

Luke didn’t want to tell them about the time he had spent with his father in here, just the two of them, fantasizing about gold and pirates.

“We were at the museum just now,” Remus began slowly. “Your dad loaned out a map…it’s of the Cradle. Of a, what was it, a trading post?”

The tall, blond boy standing in a corner nodded.

Remus looked back to Luke. “Have you seen it? Here?”

“A map?” Luke scrubbed his hand over his face again. “What fucking time is it?”

“Oh, he’s swearing,” Saint said as he opened another drawer. “He’s back.”

“Fuck—” Luke clamped his mouth shut. He turned away from Saint and fully towards Remus. Sirius and another dark haired boy were standing near the blond one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Treasure?”

Remus winced. “Like the Voldemort.”

“The—what? He was never serious about that stuff,” Luke replied. “It was just for fun.”

“And yet he takes it upon himself to acquire an ancient document,” Saint piped up from behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke said again over his shoulder.

“Um—“

Luke looked towards the blond boy, who had taken a hesitant step forward.

“I know what it looks like. My dad had a copy.”

“A true father’s affair,” Saint mumbled.

“What?” Luke asked for what felt like the one hundredth time.

“If we could just look around—” the blond began.

“You come here at ass o’clock in the morning to look around may dad’s study? For a treasure map that your dad has?”

“Used to have,” the blond’s eyes went colder. “His version was lost with him and his boat.”

Luke swallowed, eyes drifting away from the other boy’s blue ones. He looked back to Remus. They used to spend hours playing pirate when they were younger. Remus looked like he was remembering those hours, too.

Luke only had to blink for that golden-edged memory to mingle with the hours Remus had held Luke close in Luke’s bed, letting Luke soak his t-shirt through when they’d taken his dad away.

“Why do you think my dad has it?” Luke said now. “What do you mean loaned?”

“We went looking for it at the museum just now,” Remus explained. “Well—not not we. Saint stole your car—”

Luke looked back at Saint. “I’m aware.”

Saint flashed a smile.

“—and went with Logan,” Remus pointed to the somber looking brunette, “and Leo,” the cold-eyed blond, “to more or less, God, break into the museum archives. If they’re going to find the treasure—which, in my opinion, they’re not—they need—”

“A map,” Luke said, then scoffed out a laugh. “You guys are fucking crazy.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Look, none of this was my idea, but your dad’s name was on the loan card. If it’s here, it's here, and then they’ll take the picture they need and we can all leave. I mean, shit, I have work at seven tomorrow morning, guys.”

Luke let out a long breath. He was tired, from being woken up and from the Felix, and he frankly wanted Saint to stop messing with his father’s things.

He nodded at Remus. “You can look around. And I will. The rest of you, don’t fucking—” he snatched one of his father’s fountain pens out of Saint’s hands. “touch anything.”

Saint just tiled his head defiantly. Luke couldn’t help but hold his gaze for a moment, remembering waking up to those syrupy eyes and feeling—he didn’t know what. Like he was standing on the edge of the Howler cliffs, above a storm-warmed, rough ocean. Saint’s hand had been in his hair, and it had been ever so gentle, unlike the rest of him. His words were tough, and, from what Luke could tell by his own jabs at Saint, so was his skin. He guessed a kid didn’t grow up the way Saint had without at least a little armor—Saint was practically drowning in his own.

As if Luke could talk. Luke looked away and gestured towards Remus. “Let’s get this over with.”

Luke opened drawers and cabinets. He looked through stacks of paper and under dressers. He checked the den, even, just in case, but there was nothing. Everything was orderly—and even more, the police had taken so much. Any paper they could get their hands on. His mom wouldn’t tell him what they were looking for, and neither would the lawyers that occasionally came to the house.

But there was no map.

Luke began to double check, if only at Remus’ insistence, but he was at a loss. There were only so many places—

“What’s your birthday, tweedle?” Saint said suddenly.

“What does that have to do—” Luke began as he turned, but his words died in his throat when he saw Saint.

Luke’s father had had the old map of Hogwarts framed and hanging in his study ever since Luke could remember. He knew its markings as well as he knew the island as it was today. Saint had it tilted to the side, revealing a sliver of sleek steel. A safe.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Luke said breathlessly. He hadn’t known about that safe. He’d stared at that map a thousand times and he hadn’t known. Did his mother know? The lawyers?

“I bet you one of Leo here’s best breakfast sandwiches that the map’s in here,” Saint replied, nodding to the frame. “Little bit of an X marks the spot, don’t you think? Now,” Saint reached for the painting and unhooked it smoothly, setting it on the ground to reveal the neat square metal sunken into the wall with a dial in the center. “Tell me your birthday.”

“Why do you think the combination is my birthday?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Because you’re his son. Fathers do that. Don’t they?”

Saint asked the last part like he was trying to be sure, but wasn’t.

“January first,” Luke replied.

Saint hummed as he leaned in. “New year, new you, huh?”

Luke just swallowed dryly as he listened to the dial tick. It felt so loud in the room that was now holding its breath. It felt like it lasted forever, but, finally, the safe opened with a gentle click.

“Damn, Saint,” Sirius said softly.

“I know, I’m so good,” Saint said, and made to push the door open when Luke pushed forward and grabbed his hand. Saint’s fingers were warm in his own. Saint raised an eyebrow.

“Like you said,” Luke still felt breathless. “I’m his son. I’m doing this.”

Saint raised his free hand in surrender until Luke let go, and he backed away. Luke faced the safe. He felt the Felix in him all over again, though it was long gone. He felt his father, smelled his cigars. Luke reached for the door, too aware of the four pairs of eyes on him, and pulled it open.

It was relatively empty. There were papers that looked like they had once bound money, but lay ripped and lifeless now. There was a case of expensive cigars.

And there was an envelope with Luke’s name on it.

“There’s a letter,” Luke said faintly, picking it up. “For me.”

He looked up at Remus, and Remus nodded.

“Like the clues he would leave us?” Remus said quietly.

Luke went for the seal—only to have it snatch out of his hands.

He looked up, eyes wide, and found the unfamiliar brunette—Logan, Remus had said—staring back at him, at all of them, with wild green eyes.

“Logan,” Leo said, voice filled with surprise. “What the hell are you—”

But Logan just backed up towards the door. There was a familiar click, and the flame of a lighter appeared in his other hand.

“Hey—” Luke stepped forward, panicked, but Saint’s palm pushed against his chest.

“Don’t,” Saint said softly, for Luke’s ears only.

“That’s mine,” Luke snarled, shoving Saint away.

“Yeah, well I have something I want, too,” Logan snapped, and then looked at Saint. He held the flame closer to the envelope. “You want to know what this says? Then—”

“So do you, Logan,” Saint said. “You need that money. You know you do. The Carrows know it, too.”

“You owe me something first. I want Finn.”

“I don’t owe you,” Saint replied evenly. “I don’t owe anyone. That’s kind of my general idea in life, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Logan faltered, and the flame slipped close enough to the envelope to make smoke trail, but when Luke stepped forward, Logan took another step back. He looked small, framed by the grand desk and leather chairs. Small and scared.

“You left us in there,” he finally whispered, and Luke thought he heard Saint’s breathing stop and hold, like a punch to the gut.

“He was seven years old,” Sirius growled, and Luke didn’t know what they were talking about, was done waiting.

“Do you know the last time I talked to my dad?” Luke said, voice raising. He glanced upstairs, careful of his mother despite her pills, and dropped it to a deadly whisper again. “He’s not allowed calls. Not until the investigation’s over. This could—” Luke hesitated at putting his wildest, most desperate hope into words. “This could prove he’s—”

“Do you think I give a shit about the last time you talked to your daddy?” Logan snarled just as harshly. “When’s the last time I talked to mine? Oh. Right.”

“Please,” Luke heard the word rip out of his throat before he could help it, but Logan wasn’t even looking at him. Logan’s eyes were on Saint.

“Help me get Finn out. The windows are barred now. There are alarms, I’ve seen them.”

“I didn’t use a window,” Saint replied.

“Then show me how you did it.”

“You won’t be able to get in the way I got out.”

“Then do it for me.”

If Luke was begging, so was Logan.

“Fuck, I’ll help you,” Luke shouted. “Just don’t. Please. My father—”

“You don’t know shit about Saint Clair,” Logan snapped, then looked back at Saint. “We both know where he is. Why I haven’t seen him. Saint—”

“All right,” Saint said, voice calm. His brown eyes reminded Luke of stormy seas, ruddy with stirred up sand. “All right, Logan. Just don’t burn the letter.”

“Promise,” Logan said.

Saint laughed, cold and clear. “What has a promise ever meant to either of us? I said I would. Take it or leave it.”

There was a terrifying moment in which Luke worried that the letter would go up in flames anyway. That he would never know what his father had wanted him to have, wanted him to know. He didn’t know Logan, didn’t trust him.

The lighter clicked off and Logan held out the envelope. Luke took it and gave Logan a shove towards the door for good measure.

“Get out,” he said. “Get out of my house.”

“What does the letter say?” Logan replied firmly. “It could be about the map.”

Luke laughed, and it rang a close twin to Saint’s in his own ears. “You should have thought about that before you held it hostage for your orphan friend.”

Logan took a step forward, mouth opening to protest, but Luke was bigger than him, stronger and taller. He met him chest to chest.

“I said get out.”

“Logan,” Saint sighed. “Listen to him.”

Leo stepped forward then, a gentle hand on Logan’s fiery frame. Logan simmered for another moment, but let Leo lead him from the room, lighter still clutched in his fist. Remus followed them with a whispered, I’m sorry that Luke barely heard.

He faintly heard Saint say something to Sirius, who followed Remus.

Saint, the only one left in the room now, looked at Luke steadily. Luke expected some sort of joke, or a snarky remark about the desperation Luke had shown—something he tried to never let slip through. He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted to be alone, to have this room feel like his father’s again. Instead of a crime scene. Instead of a lead, or a pin-point on a map. Just his father’s familiar room.

Instead Saint tossed him something that shone—his keys.

“Let us know, if you want,” Saint said simply, and held the gold watch out. Luke took it with shaking fingers, watching him go.

Then, he looked down at the letter, at his name in his father’s familiar scrawl. He peeled back the seal with a lump forming in his throat.

Remus’ steps slowed to a stop when he saw who was waiting for him at the end of his dock in the five-AM light.

Sirius had his flip-flops beside him, his feet dangling over the edge into the water, the Wolfsbane rocking gently in the early morning waves to his left.

“Sirius?” Remus called, more so that the first thing Sirius felt wasn’t the shaking of his footsteps than anything else.

Sirius jerked around, startled either way, and scrambled to stand.

“Hi,” he said. “Or, morning.”

“Morning,” Remus laughed a little, glancing at the boat. “I…is this you taking me up on my offer?”

Sirius ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Ah, well, I’m here to say sorry about last night. Dragging you into it and all. That wasn’t fair of Saint, but he’s…I don’t know what he is right now. I usually do but…not this time, I guess.”

Remus nodded, trying to buy himself time to figure out what to say. He stepped onto his boat and took a rope in hand, just for something to do. To hold onto. Sirius had spoken the words plainly enough. There was nothing about Saint and himself being together, but Remus still sensed some sort of intimacy that wasn’t quite friendship, just as he had at the museum.

“It’s okay,” Remus said. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Sirius’ smile was a small, relieved one. “I guess so. Still. He was on some sort of mission. He still hasn’t told me anything, so.”

Remus leaned back from stowing his phone and keys securely in a hatch. “He doesn’t seem like the type of person you can really get things out of.”

“That’s true,” Sirius laughed, and it was easier this time. “Anyway, I’ll let you…I just wanted to say.”

Remus wanted to ask again, if Sirius would come with him, but Sirius was already backing away and so Remus just nodded.

“Thanks.”

He turned after he said it, breathing in the ocean air and trying to still himself, to let the familiarity of his boat and sails wash over him. He would find someone. Maybe they weren’t Sirius Black. Maybe they just weren’t here. Maybe he’d fall in love on the water, or in a classroom, or—

“Can I?” Remus heard Sirius say, and turned to look. Sirius had stopped half way down the dock.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Take you up on your offer?”

Remus smiled, even if his hope at Sirius’ words paired with the thought of Saint made his heart a little tender.

“Of course you can,” Remus said.

Sirius jogged towards him with a grin of his own, but he paused before he stepped onto the Wolfsbane, looking down. Remus wondered for a moment if it was the gap over the water, but Sirius had said he sailed, too, he’d said—

Remus understood. He unmoored the nose. “Get that rope back there if you finally want to do something other than watch.”

Sirius jumped to unknot the rope with ease, and then stepped onto the waves beside Remus, using one of his feet to push them away from the dock. Remus let them drift a moment, feeling for the wind. It was quiet for now, but he could see rougher waves out past the point.

“Is it just yours?” Sirius asked as he watched Remus with the tiller.

“Yep, birthday present,” Remus patted the side. “My baby.”

Sirius smiled. “It’s a beautiful boat.”

The wind began to pick up as they got farther from the land, pushing towards the open water. Remus’ heart seemed to pick up with it and, glancing at Sirius, who looked contemplative and—well, beautiful—Remus didn’t think it was merely the sea’s doing.

Remus had never thought too much about Sirius Black. Sirius had been there one day, gone the next, and in the run-ins at James’ house once Sirius had started working there, he had been a suddenly handsome face. Grown into himself and strong from his outdoor work. In turn, Remus always became suddenly awkward around the boy who obviously didn’t like Gods. He and James poked fun at each other, he and Luke were downright hostile, and Remus didn’t know where he fit in.

He hoped the water and the Wolfsbane would do some talking for him, and maybe some listening, too.

They didn’t speak as they began to fly. The pontoons skimmed the waves and the wind would have snatched their voices away, but Remus swore he heard Sirius laugh.

Sirius knew how to sail, too. He breathed it all in, just as Remus did, and they worked together, balancing and pulling and leaning out to trace their fingers along the water’s surface. It felt as warm as a bath against the cool air.

Remus didn’t let them go too far out, he had to be back, but he would have. He would have sailed right to the horizon with Sirius without looking back.

As the wind died down, as they turned around, Remus felt something different. Like a wind change between the two of them. They grinned at each other, flushed with it, and as the wind cut down more, as they past the point, Sirius’ turned self-conscious but it didn’t disappear like before.

The boat settled into a glide towards the shore. Remus let his feet dangle in the water.

“So, the treasure,” Remus asked, because Sirius looked hesitant to talk, sitting there soundly on the other side of the boat. “Do you think it’s real?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sirius replied, and Remus laughed. “But if Saint thinks it’s worth it…I’ll try to go along with it.”

Remus nodded, taking that in. Saint. The mention of him slowed his heart back to a glide along with the boat. Remus cleared his throat and Sirius looked back at him from the horizon questioningly.

“What was that thing with—Logan? I mean, you don’t have to tell me but…”

Sirius took a long breath. “Logan has someone, Finn, inside Saint Clair. Finn helped him escape. And I don’t know if it’s guilt that’s making him help to get Finn out, or something more, but…Saint's the one who can help.”

“Because he escaped.”

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“Is it complicated?” Remus asked. “Like, is he worried he won’t be able to do it twice?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not complicated.”

He was silent for a moment, and Remus didn't want to push him. He waited, seeing if Sirius would continue.

“Saint walked right out the front door,” Sirius finally finished, and looked at Remus. “I think he’s worried because it wasn’t a grand escape, even if he tells it that way. Even if he makes it seem like he climbed walls or something. He’s worried because…because it was a fluke. Sometimes there are doors you can’t walk back through.”

Sirius said the last sentence heavily, as if he had a door of his own. Remus guessed that maybe everyone did.

“So, what’s he going to do for Finn and Logan?”

Sirius just shook his head again. “I have no idea. But I’ll help him in any way that I can.” Half a smile raised Sirius’ mouth. “If he lets me.”

“No.”

“Tell me,” Sirius demanded. Saint just rolled his eyes and popped a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Tell us,” Dorcas cut in from her place beside Marlene.

“Right,” Sirius said. “Sorry.”

“Saint,” Marlene sighed. “If you’re not going to tell us, it’ll make us think you have no plan at all.”

“Who invited the God?” Saint said airily.

“My girlfriend,” Dorcas scuffed the back of his head.

“Not for long she’s not,” Saint replied, and at Dorcas and Marlene’s expressions, waved a hand. “Come on. She’s going to college, Dor, you’re not…don’t tell me you haven’t talked about it.”

“We—” Dorcas began, but flushed and closed her mouth. Sirius glanced at Marlene, whose eyes were firmly down towards her burger.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m not, I’m just telling everyone what to expect.”

“Saint,” Sirius leaned forward. “How are you going to get Finn out of Saint Clair? You said last time—”

Saint cut in quickly, “I say a lot of things to you that are just for you, Black.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with what you said,” Sirius replied. “Come on. Please. Is it because you don’t know? Is that why you won’t say anything?”

Saint stayed quiet, looking down at his food. “I know. We’ll just have to see if it works.”

“Saint,” Dorcas leaned forward and Saint turned his palm up for her hand. He knew they were trying to help. “Babe, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean you want to make sure it’s not too insane.”

Sirius nodded. “That, too.”

“Can’t you just rest assured that I’m doing this for myself, too?” Saint said. “I’ll get Finn out, Logan will calm the fuck down, and maybe Luke will let us know about the treasure.”

“Who gives a fuck about this treasure?” Dorcas said harshly.

“It probably doesn’t even exist,” Sirius added.

“You want off this island, like you said? Then you give a fuck.”

Sirius began to shake his head. “It’s not—” he said, but Saint pushed on, voice raising.

“We’ll get Finn out, we’ll get Luke’s help, we’ll get the map, we’ll find my mom—”

Saint stopped talking, frozen by the words that had ripped out of him of their own accord.

Sirius, Dorcas, and Marlene’s eyes were wide. Pity. The word seemed to hang in the air.

“The treasure, I meant,” Saint managed. “We’ll find the treasure and…”

“Saint…” Dorcas said, and when he looked at her…Pity. “Do you know where she is?”

Saint was furious with himself for the slip. He was looking for Sirius. He wanted the treasure for Sirius, he didn’t need it for himself. He didn’t need anything, especially not people who left. Not his mom, not Sirius.

“I don’t need help with Saint Clair,” Saint said and pushed his chair back, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

Saint hadn’t let any of them come. He didn’t want anyone here to see him tremble and shake at doing the one thing he had always promised himself he would never do. The one thing he didn’t think he could do.

But, thinking about it, the trick wasn’t getting out. Anyone could walk out the door. The nuns needed it that way, for business. For the appearance of normalcy. The real trick was getting inside without being let in. The way to keep secrets, after all, wasn’t keeping everyone out. Walls begged to be breached. The secret was to filter the truth. Let people see half, a quarter, or different parts at different times. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Maybe Saint was half of Saint Clair, keeping his cards close to his chest.

The offices. He needed to get the the offices, and then he needed to get to Finn. In and out—just not through the door this time.

“What’s the plan?” said a voice just behind him, and Saint closed his eyes.

Sirius.

“I told you not to come,” Saint said.

“And I told me yes,” Sirius parroted. They rolled their eyes at each other even as Sirius rested a gentle hand over Saint’s where it was clenched over his own knee. They crouched beside each other, staring at Saint Clair in the darkness. It was two in the morning, maybe a little past it now, and Saint wanted everyone to be asleep.

He looked towards the chimney. It was wide and old fashioned. It would be too hot for them to be using it tonight.

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius sighed, following his gaze.

“The windows are barred. The doors are alarmed. I’ve cleaned that thing, I know it’s big.”

“Yeah, everything looks big to a seven year old,” Sirius countered.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“And getting out?” Sirius asked.

“Alarms don’t go off if you open the door from the inside. There’s a kitchen door around the back. We’ll use it. We just have to get in.”

Sirius nodded slowly, and then asked, “Your mom?”

Saint pressed his lips together. He needed to get to the office, and then to Finn, and then out.

He started forward towards the drain pipe, just like on Luke’s house, and didn’t look to see if Sirius was following him.

Marlene didn’t like seeing that contemplating look at Dorcas’ face. Dorcas was chewing on her lip, eyes staring at the movie playing on Marlene’s laptop, but she was somewhere else entirely. Marlene put her pencil down at wiggled her toes, which were in Dorcas’ lap. Dorcas blinked and looked at her.

“Don’t listen to Saint,” Marlene said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

But even saying that ate at her. Marlene thought of the acceptance email, of California and Berkeley, buried in her inbox right now. Tell her, said everything inside, but Dorcas already had that look on her face. The worrying, I-want-everything-that’s-good-for-you-regardless-of-what-it-means-for-me-or-us look.

Marlene didn’t want to see that look. She’d seen it the first time her father had banned her from seeing a Salazar girl. They had been fifteen and Dorcas had offered to stop, and Marlene had kissed the idea right out of her mouth, right out of existence.

This was different. She couldn’t kiss college away. She didn’t want to. But she also wanted Dorcas, and California felt far, far away.

Dorcas chewed on her lip some more, then rubbed a soothing thumb over Marlene’s ankle. “We haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“I know,” Marlene said softly. She pushed herself up and set her sketchbook aside before reaching over to close the laptop, cutting the actor off in mid-sentence. “I guess I’m sort of…avoiding it.”

“We are, you mean,” Dorcas offered her a small smile. “I…I know we said we wanted to just have our summer, and I do want that. But I think I would feel better knowing what you think. About, you know…about when you do start hearing back.”

Marlene looked down as she whispered, “I got into Berkeley.”

A short sucked-out sound of silence filtered in between them for a moment. Marlene looked up.

“I should have said,” Marlene sighed. “I know I should have. I just…”

“Sweetheart,” Dorcas sighed, and then Marlene was pressed back onto the bed, Dorcas’ hard kisses bringing a hot blush to her cheeks. “That’s amazing.”

Marlene hummed against Dorcas’ mouth, a sad-happy sound, and wound her fingers into her hair as Dorcas kissed along her jaw. “It can be as amazing as it wants, but it’s really far away. And you like it here, and—”

“I like you,” Dorcas said, and pushed herself onto her forearms so she could look down at Marlene. “Marls, the question about us was never a debate about you following your dreams and going to college, just like you want. The question lies with me. I don’t know how to pull off following you yet, but I’m working on it.”

Marlene looked up at her and felt tears join the heat within, felt her voice wobble. “I’ll miss you. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be with me.”

Dorcas’ kiss was softer this time. “Me too.”

Marlene enjoyed it for a moment, relief bubbling in her chest, until Dorcas began laughing into her mouth.

“Maybe the boys will find that treasure and give me a piece of it.”

Marlene laughed, too. “God, if that’s our best option…”

They wound tighter together, snuggling down into Marlene’s quilt. Dorcas pressed her forehead against Marlene’s.

“Whatever I can do, I’ll do it,” Dorcas said. “I want you, wherever we are.”

Marlene just kissed her again.

Sirius was noisier on the climb than Saint would have liked, but they made it to the slanted roof without trouble, standing on its apex to stare down into the soot-dark.

“Is this really going to work?” Sirius whispered.

“It could.”

“Why not climb the fence? Maybe that door is open.”

“Too loud.”

“Why didn’t you let Logan come with us?”

Saint huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because if this goes wrong, what Finn did was for nothing. If this goes really wrong, at least there would still be one of us on the outside who knows what it looks like inside,” Saint stared out at the trees and bit of coast they could see by moonlight from here. “One of us who doesn’t return every night, that is.”

Saint went down the chimney first, one step at a time. The stones and rusted iron rungs provided easy enough footholds, they just had to hope no one was having a midnight cup of tea when they reached the bottom. He looked up once, blinking through the fine grit of ash that seemed to hang in the air, at Sirius’ face, the silver moonlight like a halo around his dark hair.

And Saint kept climbing down. He went slowly, listening hard. If someone was down there, they’d hear him, and then he’d hear them, and he could scramble back up the chimney and out of sight. Once he was down, however, who knew what they would do to keep him that way. He could practically taste the heavy sleep of Crucio, and his stomach rolled against the images it brought back. The many different families—fathers, siblings, and mothers. So many mothers that he didn’t even know which had been his own anymore.

He hated them for it. He hated them for thinking he wanted that.

Saint’s trembling foot slipped on the last hold and he tumbled out, only barely withholding a cry as the log holders scraped heavily across his side.

“Saint,” came Sirius’ harsh whisper from above him, and Saint waved a hand beneath the flue to show he was okay, then pushed himself up from the now ashy floor, gripping his side.

He knew this room too well. He knew it through the over-active eyes of a five year old. He knew it through the only slightly more alert gaze of his seven year old self.

It was smaller than he remembered. Shabbier than it had seemed then, with its hard couches and children’s books, its desk by the window that still held a letter opener that he had eyed a few times, wondering if he could fight his way out like heroes did in the books he read. Now, he willed all to stay quiet as he walked over and picked up the dull knife. He hated the sight of it.

Sirius came after him, more smartly, landing feet first.

“You could have fucking impaled yourself,” Sirius whispered.

“I didn’t, though,” Saint said, and looked at his ribs. The cuts stung, but the bleeding didn’t look too bad, just enough to dot uneven lines across his t-shirt.

Sirius lifted his shirt to see, and passed a careful thumb near the worst of them, his other a familiar weight on the side of Saint’s neck.

“Let’s go,” Saint whispered.

“Wait,” Sirius said, and turned Saint’s gaze gently to meet his own.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” Saint began, but Sirius just shook his head, silencing him.

“Listen to me,” Sirius whispered. “All right? Just this once. Just listen to me.”

Saint closed his eyes briefly. “We don’t have time to talk.”

That only succeeded in bringing Sirius’ other hand to his cheek. “If something goes wrong, you just run.” Sirius reached down and took the knife, setting it back on the desk. “Don’t think about me. They can’t keep me.”

“They’ll give you to your parents,” Saint warned.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said. “They can’t keep me. They could try to keep you and I won’t let that happen.”

Saint looked up at Sirius. The only person he could ever remember caring. Saint didn’t like that a side effect of being cared about was caring back, didn’t like that risk…but he liked Sirius.

“You’re leaving anyway,” Saint said. “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“I never said that and you’re wrong.”

“But you will say it.”

Saint turned away, keeping a hand laced with Sirius’ to pull him towards the dorms. He knew the words sounded accusing and regretful, but he only half meant them that way. Sirius deserved to go.

Sirius didn’t respond. It wasn’t the moment, and they needed to listen for other things.

The dorms came up on their left. Boys to one side of the hall, girls to the other. Saint paused, looking in.

You’ll sleep here with the rest of the boys, Sebastian. Be a good boy and make your bed every morning and you’ll get a treat with breakfast. Chocolate milk, how does that sound?

“Was this you?” Sirius whispered, and Saint shrugged.

“I slept all over this place,” Saint breathed to Sirius. “I’d sneak into the other dorms, the attic, the reading room. I was just…” Saint turned away, unable to stand the softly rising and falling chests of the boys within. “I was just trying to find a place where I felt like myself. Maybe it wasn’t the place, though.”

Maybe it was the dreams. Maybe the drug.

“Maybe it’s just me,” Saint said.

Grimmauld was the closest he had ever gotten, the most settled he’d ever felt. He loved the ocean, and his gold draped vanity, and Sirius always beside him. But there was still—something. A misplaced, tweaked something inside of him that was feeling around in the dark for a comfortable position. Saint didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he did know that it was too dark to find it right now. Sirius had been the first gleam of bright, a pin-prick of a star, a friend, a lover, and a safe place. But stars weren’t a moon or a sun. He needed light to see.

“Let’s go,” Saint said. “This way.”

They walked the halls carefully, listening after nearly every step. Saint knew that the nuns slept at the other end of the house, but that they woke to check in on the children. He couldn’t remember when, though. With the Crucio, his young age, and the late hour, the nights had felt the same and endless. He’d shuffled around like a small ghost, trying to escape the unfamiliar dream-faces. They’d only caught him a few times. A slap on the wrist. Solitary.

That’s why he nearly jumped when they heard the first footsteps. He was seven again, haunting this place and being haunted in return. Saint froze, eyes on the bend in the hallway.

“Here,” Sirius whispered, and together they ducked into a room—the offices, Saint realized—and behind the open wooden door. They huddled together, barely daring to breathe as the footsteps got closer.

“Sirius,” Saint breathed, and didn’t realize he was trembling again until Sirius’ arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Shh,” Sirius hushed him.

The footsteps passed right by them, towards the kitchen, Saint realized, and Sirius pressed Saint against him more tightly, no doubt feeling the dry pants that his breathing had turned into. They would be caught. They would be seen. Saint hid his face in Sirius’ neck.

Don’t be a waste of space, boy. Line up, after number six, come on.

He took up too much space here.

Try that again, Sebastian, and you know what happens.

Saint hated that name. He couldn’t remember who had given him that name. His mother? The nuns? What was a name if it was just a number, too? A way to keep track of him. A way to tell him what he was. Orphan boy. Five. Six. Seven. Abandoned. Good. Bad. Asleep. Awake.

Go to sleep now, there’s a good boy.

The hall was silent again and Saint felt Sirius’ embrace ease, felt his hand running soothingly along his spine.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said the words so quietly they were barely words at all. “Let’s just go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finn,” Saint rasped.

Saint looked up and saw the protest in Sirius’ eyes. It was wrong of Logan to make you come here.

“I told him to stay away,” Saint said softly. “I needed to come. I needed to come and get out again.”

Saint needed to get rid of some of this damned dark.

Saint pulled away from Sirius carefully and peaked around the door with a dry swallow before walking over to the cabinets. Records. They weren’t in alphabetical order, though. They were numbered.

Saint fingered his cross, looking towards 1-20.

He traced a finger over a key hole dejectedly, and tried the handle anyway. Locked.

“Saint,” Sirius breathed. “Your mom?”

Saint shook his head, clutching his necklace. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t know you wanted…”

“I don’t,” Saint snapped. “Let’s get Finn.”

The door to solitary was one that Saint knew well. It was a normal door, and the room beyond was a normal room. It was the memories that made it unbearable to see. Almost every kid Saint had known knew what it meant to be in that room. Alone, the wallpaper flowers withered, the bed turned cold, and the ever-changing family members flickered through your mind without anything to counter it. No reality. There was a glass window with the shade pulled. Saint hesitated for a long moment before lifting it up.

“Finn,” he breathed.

Finn’s red hair was fiery against the white bed spread. He was asleep, and Saint swore he could see Finn’s eyelids flicker from here.

Saint wrapped his fingers carefully around the door. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Everything in Saint Clair felt locked from within. Everything in Saint did, too. It had taken years of wandering around at night for Saint to discover that he could open more doors than he had thought. He was still trying doors eight years alter.

The hinges didn’t so much as squeak, and Saint felt like a ghost again.

“Don’t let this close on me,” Saint whispered to Sirius. His voice shook and just one of his feet just barely breaching the threshold.

Sirius held the frame fast and shook his head, leaning forward to press a steady kiss to Saint’s forehead.

Saint crossed the small room in two slow steps and knelt beside the bed, the motion making the punctures on his torso ache. He pressed a hand to Finn’s cheek and stroked a gentle thumb across the freckles on his skin until Finn stirred.

“Bash,” Finn murmured, eyes barely open.

“Hi, Finn,” Saint said softly and gathered Finn into a sloppy sitting position. “Let’s get you out of here, huh? See if you’re worth all of this fucking trouble.”

“Crucio,” was Finn’s only half-spoken reply. “They make it.”

And then Finn went limp again in Saint’s arms.

All Logan could taste was sour guilt, despite the heaven Leo had placed on a plate in front of him not too long ago.

For Saint. For Leo. For the letter and even Luke. For the map. The treasure. The Carrows.

Finn.

His heart ached with the thought of seeing him. Of holding him.

“Why weren’t we allowed to go with him?” Logan asked Leo for what he knew was the tenth time, but he couldn’t help it. “I asked him to help me, not go for me.”

“It’s easier to get one person in and out than two?” Leo said. He was puttering around the small kitchen, had been for the last hour, and the entire house smelled like sugar and cinnamon now, replacing the herbs, lemon, and chicken. He didn’t look at Logan when he said it.

He hadn’t looked at Logan much at all since the night at the museum.

Logan watched him taste a bit of what looked like frosting and wet his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” Logan whispered.

Leo’s restless hands paused. Logan watched his chest rise and fall once.

“I’m not mad,” Leo said finally. The heat of the oven had fluffed out his hair. “I mean, I’m not sure if we reached a dead-end or not…and you could have told me you were going to do that. I said I would help you, didn’t I?”

“I needed Ba—Saint,” Logan replied. “But I also…I should have told you. And I shouldn’t have made Saint go. I just want…he’s my family. Finn is my…”

“I understand why you did it,” Leo cut in softly. “I probably would have done worse if I thought that there was something that could save my dad.”

That just made Logan feel even smaller, sitting at the table. Leo glanced at him, gave him a tight smile, then went to the sink and began scrubbing dishes.

“Hey,” Logan said, then rose and strode over to Leo. “Hey, let me clean up.”

“I just need something to do,” Leo said shortly.

“Me, too.”

They stood, their shoulders pressed together. Logan washed. Leo dried. He slipped cinnamon rolls into the oven and then returned. They kept close to each other at the sink and it felt…so normal. Like a home. Leo felt like a home.

“I never really thanked you properly,” Logan said into the now more comfortable silence. “For letting me stay with you. And—I just want to say, and now with Finn…I understand if you want us to leave. I mean, three’s a crowd.”

“You’re welcome here,” Leo said quickly. Logan watched his throat bob. He was looking away again. “You should do what feels best for you, but you’re both welcome here. Just—”

Leo paused, and Logan found himself suddenly desperate to hear what he had to say. He knew he hadn’t been friendly all the time. He knew he’d been selfish. Leo had been nothing but kind. He was funny and warm, teaching Logan how to weld two pieces of metal, talking about the latest book he was reading while he whisked batter and handed Logan different new recipes he was trying out.

Finn would like Leo, Logan thought, and glanced towards the door. Maybe he was about to find out.

“Never mind,” Leo said, and flashed a smile.

Logan went to protest, but then his phone began buzzing madly on the table and he all but lunged for it.

Luke stared down at his father’s handwriting.

Luke, it began. And then there was a name.

Pascal Dumais.

There was no mention of himself. There was nothing. Luke had thought this would make him feel better, make it easier. Only, now, he was frustrated to the point of tears. He couldn’t seem to ease the lump that was lodged in his throat. He clutched the paper in his fingers hard enough to tear, willing something else to appear on it. He thought of Felix.

“Well?” said a voice from his window.

“Oh—” Luke flinched, surprised, then cursed at Saint, who was stretched out on his window sill. “Come on. Are you kidding me?”

Saint’s mouth twitched up in a smile, but it was strained. He was sitting awkwardly, tense rather than his usual languid posture.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asked hesitantly, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.

“What isn’t?”

Luke spotted the blood between Saint’s fingers and rose. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell down a chimney.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.”

Luke blinked. “That’s how you got into Saint Clair? And you climbed to my window?”

Saint pulled himself all the way through the window with a soft groan and Luke walked forward, hands hovering near Saint’s shoulders, unsure if he should help.

“The orphan?” he asked instead, then at Saint’s sharp look, “Finn?”

“Sirius is bringing him to Grimmauld.”

“What’s Grimmauld?”

Saint sat down heavily in Luke’s desk chair, hand still pressed to his side. He had what looked like soot on his hands and face. “A place.” He picked up a book. Jane Eyre. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“You’re bleeding all over my room.”

“Lucky you.”

Luke tucked the note into the pocket of his shorts. “Fuck—come here. Jesus.”

He walked into his bathroom and jammed the light switch up, looking back when Saint didn’t follow him. “Come here.”

Saint rose, still holding the book. “I am coming!” Saint quoted, head tilted in a way that made his neck look long. “Wait for me! Oh, I will come!”

“Very funny,” Luke sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.”

“Why?” Saint said as he stepped out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the yellow-lighted bathroom. His brown eyes took on the soft yellow, too, and he leaned forward as he pushed himself up onto the counter carefully. “Because I don’t buy my books and,” Saint looked down at the book, flipping through it. “Write all over them like you do?”

“Because you didn’t go to school,” Luke said with a raised eyebrow as he ducked for the first aid kit beneath his sink. It was good to have one near during the lacrosse season—or it used to be.

Saint rolled his eyes. “You Gods and your single paths in life. You’re all stupid.”

“Then why are you here?” Luke asked as he unlatched the kit.

“Because this is the last place anyone would look for me,” Saint replied. “And you’re mean.”

“Mean? Are we in seventh grade?” Luke scoffed as he wet a towel in the sink. “I don’t know if it’s healthy to want to be around people who you think are mean to you."

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Saint said. “And that’s all Sirius will want to do. And I don’t want to. And we don’t have this shit at Grimmauld.”

“Is that where you live?”

Saint just set the book down and reached behind himself to tug his shirt over his head. Luke tried not to stare at Saint’s smooth, light brown skin. He swallowed, busying himself with the bandages and the wet towel again.

“For all the breaking into places you do, maybe you should invest in some band-aids,” Luke said, and glanced down at the finely woven muscle on Saint’s ribs, at the red edges of the slashes. “If you flinch too much, you’re doing this yourself.”

Saint smiled. “Mean.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said, out of reflex, and then pressed his lips together. Saint laughed and then hissed as Luke pressed the towel to the cut.

They were close like this, Luke leaned in to dab the blood away, and then dot it with disinfectant, all while Saint’s muscles jumped beneath the palm he had steadied low on his belly. He could feel Saint watching him, and remembered waking up to those eyes. Saint’s hand in his hair.

“How did you do it?” Luke said into the small space between them. “Get in and out.”

“The chimney.”

So, he was serious.

“What did the letter say?” Saint asked.

Luke glanced up at him warily, but wiped a hand on his shorts before fishing the letter out of his pocket and handing it over. “Do you know who that is?”

Saint read it quietly, and then met Luke’s eyes. Luke was stuck there, pinned like a tack in a map, marking the place to be.

“Yes,” Saint said, and smiled brightly. “I know exactly who this is.”

#relic keel lumosinlove #Harry Potter fic #lumosinlove ocs #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #dorlene #jily #saint #Luke deveaux #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #o'knutzy #wolfstar

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gyroshrike · 3 years

Note

Tell me why you love Gamtav; give me a whole rambling essay if you can. I like seeing people excited over the things and ships they like!

Oh, are you sure you want this? Do you really want to open Pandora's Box? Are you ready for the amount of rambling I can do about GamTav? How much time do you have? Because this is going to be a doozy. I haven't even started writing it and I can tell.

And before I get into it, people gotta know that most of this is based off of pre-murderstuck Gamzee

What do I like about GamTav? What do I like about GamTav??? One of the things that plays into me loving this ship so much is how much I love Gamzee and Tavros as individuals. Whenever I start reading a new piece of media, without question my favorite characters are almost always the really, really nice ones. Boku no Hero Academia? Kirishima. Anohana? Poppo. Legend of Korra? Bolin. And in the beginning of Homestuck, Gamzee and Tavros are just really, really NICE.

Oh, well, Gamzee is really, really nice. When we first see Tavros, he’s being a little shit to the kids, but that's because he was intentionally trying to troll. But once we get into Act 5 and we see Tavros interact with his friends, we realize he's generally a really kind person. His conversations with Nepeta, Gamzee and Aradia are all really sweet. His pesterlog with Vriska, which is the first one we get to see after he is revealed to us as a character, immediately paints a picture of him as someone struggling with his self-esteem and someone who is trying really hard to build himself up as a person. Way to fuckin’ endear me to a character IMMEDIATELY.

For most of the early comic until Act 5, we see all the trolls trolling the kids and even talking shit back and forth to each other. Gamzee was one of the first trolls who we see be purely sweet and supportive to his friends. His first pesterlog after we’re introduced to him is with Karkat and Karkat does nothing but talk shit. xD He does his usual song and dance of saying just the absolute worst things possible in that Karkat way of his and Gamzee just laughs and nods and basically says, “Yeah brother, you go, I love you, you're my best friend.”

We see Gamzee talk with Equius and we already know at this point that Equius is weird, but Gamzee is so jazzed to be talkin’ with his friend. He's just so supportive of Equius and even when Equius tells Gamzee that he must stop doing soper, Gamzee just says, “Okay, sure, you got it, I trust what you're telling me because you're my friend.” Now Equius is not actually ready for Gamzee to listen to him and backtracks and is like, “Wait, no, you don't have to listen to me, let's roleplay instead,” and Gamzee's like, “I don't know how to roleplay, but I'll try for you bro.” He’s just really fucking cute???

Short version: When we meet them, Tavros is someone you want to root for and Gamzee is just the nicest guy on the planet.

Gamzee loves his friends so much and from early on it's made apparent that he wants to love and support them, and would honestly do a lot for them even if he doesn't know what he's doing.

Also along with just being a generally sweet guy Tavros is the nerd archetype I love? He loves the troll equivalent of Pokemon and card games and other things like that. Also he just really loves animals? And I always love the characters who love animals. It's a really big weakness I have. Not to mention, talking with them? That's so COOL? So badass??? Like, UM???? He could control them, but he doesn't like forcing them to do bad things against their will. (Going off of how when suggested he control the imps to defeat them, but feels like that would be unfair/mean.)

SPEAKING OF THE IMPS. Of the twelve trolls, Tavros and Gamzee are the two of them who BEFRIENDED their imps. Isn't that so fucking rad????? They both started off fighting them at first, but then they both later mention that they are able to chill with their imps instead. Gamzee shares pie with them and Tavros communicates with them using his powers. I freaking LOVE that parallel. When I first noticed it I almost keeled over. See, I'm also a sucker for characters who like to attempt peace before conflict, so of course I'm going to love that both of them made friends instead of enemies.

So Act 5 Homestuck has already set me up to basically completely love these two characters. Now, I am a really big shipper. In almost every piece of media I go into I generally come out with ships and that's a big way that I engage with fandom. Now Homestuck, I actually didn't ship that much at first when I first started reading, which is pretty strange for me. I think I just kind of let the ships fall into my lap up until that point. I know my brain had really enjoyed the ideas of Karkat and Terezi, Dave and Terezi, and had even teased inklings of "What if?" and "Oh, I like them," about Rose and Kanaya. But for the most part I wasn't really into Homestuck for shipping at first.

The concept of GamTav, or PBJ as it was more commonly referred to then, was introduced to me by my friends. I had two irl friends who were reading the comic with me and they were ahead of me by some decent amount of pages at the time. At one point they started making references to PBJ and really liking PBJ and I was a little confused because I didn't quite know what they were referring to at first. I learned pretty soon that PBJ was Gamzee and Tavros and I remember being really excited for the ship because it was the first time I'd seen my friends get that excited for a ship. Which is really funny because now in the twilight years of the Homestuck fandom, of the three of us, I'm the only one gripping white-knuckled onto GamTav and breathing it like my life depends on it, while the other two have moved on to much different things. If I'm being honest, I'm pretty sure one of them doesn't even really like Gamzee that much anymore, but respects how much I love him and lets me rant and rave to her about him whenever I want.

It wasn't long after that that I finally got to the infamous "Make out a little" conversation between Gamzee and Tavros. I read the pesterlog and suddenly everything I had seen and heard from my friends made sense. I mean, not that I'm saying that's the ONLY reason GamTav makes sense. I just mean I understood what my friends specifically were talking about. Of the pesterlogs we've seen between them before that, Gamzee and Tavros obviously had a decent friendship. I'm pretty sure in the comic Gamzee was the first person to have a pesterlog with Tavros who is genuinely nice to him. (And this is conversation happens directly after Tavros’ conversation with Vriska, so it’s a wild contrast.) So as a friendship, I was already super down with Gamzee and Tavros-- you know what? Now that I think about it, I feel like I remember in [S] Make Her Pay being disappointed that Gamzee and Tavros were fighting alone and not with each other. Because a lot of the other trolls had paired up to be cool duos, you know? We had Karkat and Terezi, Feferi and Sollux, Nepeta and Equius, and I think I remember being bummed that Gamzee and Tavros weren't paired up. So I, at the very least, think I wanted things for these two even if I hadn't stepped into the realm of actually shipping them yet. I don't remember, this was YEARS ago.

Anyway, the infamous makeout conversation happens, and I'm sold hard for life. I have a lot of other Homestuck ships that I'm into and I enjoy, but none have ever, ever, ever, ever come close to GamTav.

I realize that I've written so much and I still haven't gotten to the meat of why I like them.

So I like ships where the parties involved are best friends. I love it when the characters in a ship are bros who love hanging out, who love doing silly things together. That awesome video "What your favorite Homestuck ship says about you" had me dead to rights. Called me out so hard. My ideal ship dynamic is "being stupid together"? Way to come for the throat. That's exactly it. At their core, Gamzee and Tavros are one of the funnest bro combinations I have ever seen. And what makes them so fun is both of them are huge dorks. HUGE dorks.

When we first meet Gamzee, he stares off into the colors of his miracle modus while making the most ridiculous face, tries to unicycle but just fuckin' pieruettes right off if it because his legs are too short, and just straight up reaches into his modus with his bare hands. Don't even get me started on how he scares himself with his own horns. That shit kills me.

We've already talked about how Tavros is a huge nerd, so that's covered. But like… have you heard him rap? This guy just gets so into it and has so much fun while simultaneously sounding so silly. He's flirty and awkward and ridiculous and has this shit eating grin on all the time.

They are those two friends who get up to shenanigans where everyone else around them just kind of shakes their head and thinks that they're so dumb (in an affectionate way), but they don't care because all they DO care about is how much fun they're having together.

One of my favorite things about Homestuck in general is it lets its characters be bad at things. John and Karkat suck at coding. Gamzee, Tavros, and Dave are bad at rapping. Rose becomes a prolific author, but I would argue she's bad at writing when she's 13 because, wow is it a slog to get through her wizard fanfiction LMAO.

And GamTav is a perfect example of two people who just have fun together being bad at things together. There's no pretense of needing to be cool or needing to be good at something or any type of shame or embarrassment. They're just so silly and they don't mind being silly around each other and they never make the other person ashamed of who they are. We even see some of that last bit in the comic. Gamzee never puts Tavros down. In one conversation, he acknowledges Tavros' disability, but doesn't taunt Tavros for it, doesn't make it a joke, or make him feel bad. It's just acknowledged and then they move on. Then Tavros mentions that while he doesn't share Gamzee's religious or spiritual views, he is supportive of them. I am such a sucker for shit like that.

In every way, shape, and form, Gamzee and Tavros are supportive of each other and just and totally uplift the other person. Both of these characters go through so much verbally (both jokingly and maliciously) at the hands of their peers for being who they are that Gamzee and Tavros' conversations were so refreshing to just see them be unabashedly themselves with another person.

And they make each other happy! Tavros' first conversation with Gamzee was the first time we see where Tavros is purely elated to be talking to the person he is talking to. And Tavros obviously makes Gamzee really happy. They just make each other so happy! And I love that shit!

Gamzee is, without restraint, supportive of everything that is Tavros. Gamzee is the type of person who would look at anything Tavros wants to do or is trying to do and put his whole heart in supporting Tavros and telling him, "Yeah bro, you can do this, you're amazing, I love you, go get 'em, you're the best, you can do anything you put your mind to,” and I love that for Tavros.

Gamzee was the friend I spent all of Homestuck wishing Tavros had. Tavros spent so much time talking to Vriska, interacting with Vriska, adventuring with Vriska. And that entire time I was just wishing that Gamzee was there instead, just so Tavros would have someone to be nice to him.

After murderstuck, I spent years waiting for Gamzee and Tavros to meet in a dream bubble. That was all I wanted. I wanted Gamzee to have to look Tavros in the eye and face what he had done, own up to everything to the person he loved most in the world. But of course, post murderstuck, Gamzee gets everything stripped away from him that made him the character he was in the beginning. It wasn't even a satisfying villain arc! It was just confusing! I feel like I could have dealt with it if Gamzee was a well-rounded villain. But instead his entire villain shtick was just surrounded by a bunch of question marks! I spent all of Homestuck waiting to learn what exactly was going on with Gamzee and then we never got that and that fucked me up.

And of course, oh, of course, up until the very end of the series, in the very, very, very last animation we ever see, Homestuck Act 7, Tavros is standing by Vriska's side, as he has had to do since the very beginning.

I haven't read the epilogues or Homestuck 2, so I'm not going to touch on anything that happens in those series and I would appreciate it if no one responded to this with spoilers. Don't even tell me things like, "Oh, you'll like Gamzee," or "Oh, you'll hate Gamzee," or anything like that. I don't want any hints. I already got enough. I want to form my own opinion when I finally get the energy to go in.

Nowadays, I stick almost exclusively to humanstuck AU's for my GamTav. Because even if canon GamTav wasn't so sad and depressing, there are other things that make me way too sad to think about. As a bronze blood, Tavros's lifespan is going to be significantly shorter than Gamzee's. No matter the good or bad context surrounding their relationship. Even if they were the perfect, fluffy, happy couple in canon, I can't deal with that lifespan difference. It breaks my goddamn heart.

I live in a world where I can rewrite the circumstances surrounding these characters and make it play out in a way that is much more to my liking. Writing them in humanstuck AU's lets me take away all of the things that make my heart hurt and instead repurpose them for really meaningful, emotional character building arcs and that's my main focus when it comes to GamTav.

Something I'm also really picky with when it comes to this ship is that I need the core of Gamzee and Tavros' character growth to happen apart from each other. I have found that I don't like stories that center Gamzee and Tavros or their relationship as the pivotal point of their development. I don't like when Gamzee is the pillar of Tavros' confidence. I do like when Gamzee helps out building Tavros' confidence by being supportive and saying nice things and encouraging him, but I don't like it when he is the main source. I don't want Tavros' growth to be hinged on Gamzee being in his life.

The same goes for Gamzee. I don't like stories where Tavros is the one thing keeping Gamzee from doing bad things. I don't like when their relationship is framed as being the one thing keeping Gamzee from going murder mode all over his friends again. I've read fics where Gamzee struggles either with murderous instincts as a troll or mental health as a human and Tavros is one of the only things that keeps him from going off the deep end. I don't like that. I want Gamzee's growth to be primarily on his own or at the very least not supported by his romantic partner. Of course, I love it when Tavros is there when he needs him to hold him or soothe him or say kind things or help him through his struggles. I'm not saying I don't want Tavros to comfort him at all or ever, I just don't want Tavros to be his sole anchor.

I just love idiot best friends in love.

Oh, OH! ALSO. Gamzee doesn’t give a FUCK about the hemospectrum. One of the first things he says to Equius is how he doesn’t get it, how he’s not better than anyone else, how he doesn’t even know how to ACT better than anyone else. How am I not supposed to love that?

Opposite sides of the hemospecturm relationships are so fun. I love the idea of Gamzee entering a room full of strangers and them being like “Oh no! :O !!!! Scary subjuggulator!!” and Tavros comes rushing over all happy and excited and they just snuggle all cute and gross and everyone watching’s jaw just drops.

This might sound weird, but I also think one of the things that endear me to characters is them getting misinterpreted and then me having fun drawing them more ‘accurately’? Tavros is so often depicted as uwu soft weepy boi and I love drawing him with a mischievous grin just as ready to do something stupid and get himself into trouble as Gamzee is. Equius TOLD Tavros not to go near the stairs with his new robo legs. What is one of the things Tavros does immediately? Go try the fuckin’ stairs. And he KEEPS DOING IT.

*lays down on the floor* I just… I just want domestic GamTav where they move into a nice wheelchair accessible home (modified in a similar way to Tavros' hive in Pesterquest) and Gamzee massages Tav's back when it aches and tells him he's the light of his life and in turn Tavros holds Gamzee close on his darker days and Tavros kisses his hands and brushes his hair out of his eyes and boops his nose and they laugh so hard together that they cry.

#homestuck #gamtav #gamzee x tavros #gamzee makara #tavros nitram #hs pbj #homestuck pbj #asks for me #anon #HERE IS IS ANON #RAMBLY AS ALL HELL

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

Reunited (Red Groom AU)

This is the part where you guys realize i'm not going in chronological order and am probably just gonna do the scenes i like

but like who cares right that just means we're skipping to the good stuff

Also i combined the battle of wits and the Reuniting scene bc this is my AU and i do what i want

In a cruel turn of fate, when the Spider Queen stood alone between him and his most hated foe, the Red Prince wished he still had either the large blue fellow or the dragon with them still. At least the two of them were slightly more amenable to him. And maybe while they couldn't be persuaded to take these wretched restraining cuffs from his wrists they at least were better conversational partners than the half mad Spider Queen.

Tethered to the spider woman as he was at the time, when she began to mutter aloud to herself about trying to lose the Monkey King over a secret way, he had no choice but to follow as she dragged him off of the forest path and into a clearing. He'd assumed she'd gone mad, but before he could voice such opinions she'd spun a quick web and used it to blind and gag him. She'd activated the damned cuffs and finding himself unable to move on his own, he could only comply.

He could rely on naught but his hearing as the Spider Queen dragged him across the open plain and forced him to sit upon what felt to be a long felled tree trunk. He heard her arrange things with the shift and clang of cloth and metal, and soon enough he heard approaching footsteps.

One of her pointed legs pressed up underneath him, the tip just grazing where his chin met his neck.

“So, Monkey King, it's down to you and I once again.” She purred and he let out a shout of rage at finally finally being so close to the monkey who'd taken away his everything but unable to move or even look upon the face of that wretched foe.

“-By all means if you want the prince dead, come closer.” The point of the Spider Queen's leg pressed a little harder against him.

“Give me a moment, let me explain-” The Monkey King started, tense and rough and possessing none of the cocky lit his father had described it as in the stories he'd heard-

“There's nothing to explain!” The Spider Queen crowed. “You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen!”

“Per...haps an arrangement can be reached?” Why did the Monkey King even want him enough to not have grown bored and moved on? Some sort of assumed loyalty to his father? As if he'd go anywhere with the monster that had taken his-

No. Stop. Stop thinking about it, now's not the time.

The Spider Queen thought so too, he felt a small prick on his neck as she broke the skin there just a bit he let out a muffled yelp in surprise as she grabbed his arm for better leverage. “There will be none. And if you do not wish to bring a corpse back to his family you will remain where you are.”

The Monkey King's voice wavered, and for a moment it sounded afraid... and almost familiar-... No. don't you dare compare him to the monkey who killed him.

“Well... if no arrangement can be made, this is quite the impasse we've reached.”

“I would say so. If you went about swinging that staff I'd likely be squashed flat, yet if you dared do so your prize's blood will stain the soil before you finished the swing. Your brawn is unparalleled 'Great Sage' But so is my intelligence.”

“You're that smart, hm?”

“Whose the one holding the prize, Monkey King?” She gripped his arm tighter.

“Well, In that case how about a battle of wits?” There was that cocky lit. No doubt the Monkey had a trick up his sleeve to take care of the Spider Queen-

“For the prince?”

-and then if he could just play nice for long enough to get him to remove these damned restraining cuffs he could-

“To the Death?”

-he could charge at the simian with every ounce of pain and rage he'd built up in the past two years and turn him to ash and whatever smoldering stone he was made from that remained stone yet.

“I accept.”

He just had to be patient a little longer.

“Wonderful! Pour the wine, please?”

This would possibly be his greatest test of resolve yet. He heard the Monkey's footsteps approaching and as the creature drew near he smelled of peaches and the wind, and-...

Had- Had he stolen some of his beloved's clothes?!

His senses were stronger than an average humans and without his sight his other senses were sharpening and he could swear he smelled the distinct scent of-...of-....don't say his name don't even think it you don't have the time to be hysterical right now

-He didn't think he was CAPABLE of hating the Monkey King even more than he already did and yet here he was. His rage mounting and seething beneath his skin.

He heard the clack and pour as the wine sloshed into what were apparently two cups between his captor and his enemy.

“Smell this, but don't touch it.”

“This smells of nothing.”

“It's called Iocane powder. It has no smell, taste or distinctive texture but it can kill a demon in no time flat.”

“Hm.”

“Now it can't kill ME per se, but even I'm not fully immune to it. It'll put me into a sleep like death for a solid week, which is about as close to dead as I can get anyway.”

“Ahhh I see where you're going with this.”

There was another pause, and the sound of the two cups clinking as they were moved about.

“There. Which cup as the poison within? You select which you'll take, we both drink. And from there we see who has the custody of the prince, and who is dead.”

The Spider Queen laughed and released her hold on his arm to clap in her amusement.

“Truly? We both drink the wine and see who keels over? How delightful! You were never this collected with your gambits before, Great Sage! Truly I can only divine which cup is poisoned from what I know of you, Monkey King.” the Monkey King sucked in a breath and She laughed.

“I suppose the real question is how does the Monkey King go about when he plans on tricking people? Does he poison his own goblet or his enemies?”

Then the Spider Queen began on some long, painfully winded, tirade about what she'd divined about the Monkey King based on his reputation and what she'd gleaned from his behavior, and he honestly could not care about her backwards thought process one whit. He simply wished for this to be over and either make plans to return to this palace when the Great Sage was in his sleep like death and char him to a crisp or wait for the Spider Queen to fall dead and convince the Monkey King to free him so he may do the job himself.

“You're trying to confuse me into giving something away aren't you?”

“You'd LOVE that wouldn't you Monkey King? I know which goblet has the poison in it you great fool.”

“Then choose! Geez, this is boring me!”

“You'll see whose embarrassed soon enou- What in the world could that be?”

“What? Where?” Did.... Did the Monkey King really just fall for the 'look behind you' gambit? “I see nothing.”

...Really?

“I could have sworn I saw something- oh nevermind I suppose. Now, a toast. I select my own cup.”

“Very well.” the two cups clacked together dully.

“You chose wrong.” The Monkey King chortled, only to be cut off by the Spider Queen's cackle.

“You only BELIEVE I chose wrong! How humorous! The great and mighty Monkey King so easily duped!” the Spider Queen cackled “I switched our glasses as you were turned around Monkey King! You've fallen for one of the greatest blunders of them all! The Greatest of course being to never invade the far north nearing winter, but slightly less well known, is to never bet against a Spider when death is on the line!”

The Spider Queen laughed for a time longer before her laughter started to slowly dissolve into a coughing fit. Her hand scrabbled along his arm as she searched for purchase- and then fell away.

The Monkey King approached him and he most certainly HAD stolen the clothes of his beloved with the scent that clung there still—and oh how he'd wished he'd still have a remnant of him to remember with in his timeless eon of grief—and the sheer unbridled unfairness that his killer was allowed something that he so desperately had craved made him furious.

The Monkey King removed the webbing around his eyes first and he blinked in the sudden sunlight. The dark mask and head wrapping the Monkey King wore obscured the majority of his face and he found himself so full of rage at the idea of the wretched stone monkey being so close to him that once the webbing was torn from his mouth his first instinct had been to spit in his face.

He hadn't, but it had been a close call.

“....All that caterwauling and you knew you'd poisoned your own cup the whole time.”

“They were both poisoned, highness.” The Monkey King stated stiffly. “Iocane powder only works on demons and I'm immune to everything but what can kill an immortal... so you may not want to touch either of those cups yourself.”

The Monkey King reached for his bindings and he held his breath as he gave the shackles an experimental tug. The golden bands shuddered and tightened against his wrists. “What nature of binding are these?”

...just play nice, just until they're broken...“I'm not familiar with them myself, but they blast my own fire back onto me should I try to summon it, and tighten upon attempted removal.” Come on... if anyone could break them before they lopped his hands off it would be the Monkey King... and he'd thank him by giving him just what he deserves....

“Sounds like a stolen artifact from the heavenly court or something, you're probably stuck in those things until we return to Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Well I know very little about the surrounding area, how short a time it's been since I've returned to the world, and if I remember correctly this mercenary group said themselves they were hired by your fiance, So we should probably assume his palace is hostile territory, and to send you home would surely double our journey time before we can be assured of safety. It's far safer to head back to my own mountain and send word to your home from there.”

No...No no no no That was not allowed. He got to his feet—in such a rush the Monkey King stumbled back in surprise—and couldn't hold on to his temper any longer.

“I will no nowhere with you! You- You absolute-! I- I can't even find the words to DESCRIBE how deeply my hatred runs for you!” The Monkey King flinched back in surprise, before huffing.

“Well you don't have much of a choice, do you? I can't remove those restraints short of chopping your hands off and the sun is due to set soon; How long do you think you'll last in the wild without your fire power? Far as I see it, You either return with me to my mountain, or leave as powerless as a human without even a weapon by your side and hope to make it back home on your own before you're either eaten or slaughtered.”

Red Son growled under his breath, but when the Monkey King gestured for him to follow, he did.

They made it to the outer side of a mountain, a steep decline into the valley off on their side and in the center of the valley lie a dark and tangled forest.

“We can rest here for a time-”

“I refuse to put my guard down around you, ape.” The Monkey King bristled.

“Would you mind terribly to indulge me as to why you've decided to detest your own savior, highness?”

The horrid monkey should know what he's done- “You killed the love of my life”

And then the bastard had the gall to remain unshaken “Maybe I did. I've killed a lot of people since getting free.” The Monkey strode forward and began to circle him, like a predator toying with its prey.

Red Son decided he wouldn't need his fire to attack this creature. Sure he may die within moments, but his rage would at least let him one punch before his skull was split open-

“Tell me, who was this 'love' of yours? Another prince like yourself?” The Monkey King leaned in. “Rich? Cutthroat? Bossy?”

Of all the disrespectful- “He worked in an Inn when I knew him! He was poor!” He rounded on the disgraceful simian yet the killer before him wasn't his focus. “I didn't care about his wealth!”

He couldn't think on him or he'd fall to pieces and-

He couldn't-

“I never cared about that.”

The memory of gentle laughter echoing in his ear, the bright excitement and bounce in his step, those elegant yet calloused hands and he had to stop this right here because the Monkey King wasn't ALLOWED to see him so vulnerable-

“He was perfect in every way...”

Yet now that the memory was in his head again it wasn't going away. And he found his heart aching as deeply as it was during his period of mourning.

The shimmer of adoration when he'd simply glanced at him briefly and known his heart; the embarrassed way his gaze had darted away when he'd later confronted him on his discovered feelings, the warm, bright joy when he'd told him his feelings were returned-

“...With eyes like the space between the stars...” His voice had grown weaker, barely a murmur as the memories reclaimed their long repressed spot in his mind.

Xiaotian... his face, his voice, His passion and energy and-

And the tired look on the Inkeep's husband's face when he'd informed him of their son's death-

-The eager excited look on his face as he'd eagerly listen to Red Son talk about his projects, always listening even if he didn't understand.

The feeling of the floor falling out from under him and and a million horrible noises and feelings mounting up in his throat and chest but restraining it just long enough to find somewhere to be alone

-The energy in his voice as he talked about his art, looking for all the world like his greatest pleasure in the world was taking a brush into his hand and immortalizing the world around him into inks and papers.

Kneeling in the grove of trees for hours screaming his rage and sobbing his despair until a stranger had finally found him.

-The stories he loved to hear and tell in turn, entire body going into his storytelling as he gestured and enacted and faked fights

Night after sleepless night tirelessly working trying to—needing to—just stop thinking else he'd be able to do nothing but wish the world itself had died when Xiaotian had so at least the sun would stop rising and the birds would stop singing and the servants would stop bringing him meals he didn't have the appetite for and he could just work and work until his body finally collapsed in on itself and the light of his forge would go out blanketing the world in eternal darkness like it deserved to be after the greatest light of them all was extinguished.

-one picture, just one, given to him the one time he'd returned to the town by the Inkeep, stating in a gruff, tired voice that he may as well keep it. A figure done up in coals, his own visage of that one beautiful night they'd had together, the paper folded and held in a secret pocket right over his heart where it remained forevermore.

That final goodbye, Xiaotian pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles as though still trying to be respectful to a prince. And he couldn't suppress the laughter at such a overly fancy action so once his chuckles had subsided he'd pulled him into a proper kiss. And they'd both known it would be some time before they'd see eachother, so they made it a proper goodbye-

But he hadn't thought it would be the last time he'd ever see him alive.

If he'd known... all the things he would have said, all the pleas to keep him there with him in the little town just beyond the palace. To- To move him into the palace, and yes his parent's wouldn't approve of a peasant for a husband, but he'd have no other and eventually they'd come around to it. Especially after they actually MET him and knew the kind of man he was-

But he didn't. And Xiaotian was dead-

He was dead at the hands of someone he'd admired and loved the stories of.

And his rage returned. The fire burned beneath his skin and begged to be let loose but he had to keep a lid on it to keep the cuffs from bouncing his power back onto himself and burning away like an effigy of love and loss.

“He was staying in the village you burned to the ground when you left your traveling group.” his voice was low, as calm as he could possibly make it, if he went any louder he would begin screaming, he knew it. “The one you ensured none would live to tell about beyond your former friends-”

“'Friends' is such a heavy word. My 'traveling compatriots' perhaps would work better.” The Monkey King interrupted him -He interrupted him! “And I mean I couldn't afford to show any mercy while I was leaving them behind! If people thought the Monkey King had gone soft after his five hundred year imprisonment nobody would respect him! Then it's nothing but work work work to rebuild that reputation!”

“Are you mocking me?! You destroy my everything and you have the gall to mock my pain?!”

“Oh, Life is pain highness.” He couldn't see the Monkey King's eyes but he was sure they were mockingly rolling in his self-assured life knowledge. “Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is just selling you something.”

Then he looked off to the side, and he was so tempted to just charge the Monkey, see how far he could go before he was struck back. See how far his rage could carry him alone. He twisted the restraining cuffs on his wrists, they tightened, he grit his teeth at the squeeze.

“You know, I think I remember this inkeep boy of yours. I separated from my former group about... what, two years ago was it?”

...You know he'd thought that if the Monkey King did remember Xiaotian it would give him some sense of catharsis. That his love had at least made an impression on the great fool, and was not just some faceless passerby, but...

It didn't.

“Does it bother you to know?”

“I'll not give you the satisfaction of hearing any more of my thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, he died well if that's any consolation.” The Monkey King was peering at him through the mask. “No bribe attempts with those meager savings, no blubbering. He pleaded his case to me only the once.” he looked away, seemingly lost in the memory, head tilted upward as though to help him remember. “He said 'Please... I need to live'...Not a lot of people say 'please' and mean it highness, so it gave me pause.”

“I asked him what was worth sparing him over, and I remember this, he said 'True Love'” His chest felt tight...

He reached up a hand and pressed it against his collarbone to try and alleviate the pressure, he could practically see it, the village up in flames, the Monkey King in this same hideous black outfit, his staff already stained with blood, and his precious, darling, beloved Noodle Boy kneeling in the dirt, blood seeping down his face from a cut somewhere on his head, and pleading just for a moment. And-

True love...

“He then went on to describe a gentlemen of great intelligence and deep passion; I can only assume he meant you...Have to say, I'm surprised you're not grateful to me destroying him when I did.”

His mind stuttered to a stop, his entire train of thought completely derailed as the Monkey King spoke.

“...What?”

“You know, before he could see the kind of person you really are.”

His control snapped in half, his fire sprung forth, the golden bands shuddered and the flames erupted out only for a moment before being bounced back onto him. The heat of his own fury scalding him until the pain made him stop. The Monkey King took a half step forward but Red Son made SURE he kept his distance with his glare alone.

“And what, pray tell, kind of person am I?!”

It seemed like he'd finally pissed off the Monkey King. Good. His shoulders tensed and those long canines bared, as though ready to tear into him. “He was really stuck on the idea that you were the faithful sort, highness. That no matter what, yours wasn't the kind of heart that could be swayed! He was so sure that you would wait for him-”

Wait- why was that what had angered him?

“-So tell me, when you learned of your 'love's death did you start accepting suitors the next day or did you wait a full week out of respect for the dead?!”

His hand went flying before he even thought about it, he should have punched him; if that was his only shot in he should have punched him, but his reflexes had decided the action for him and instead his palm was out and he'd slapped him instead.

“How dare you?! You mocked me once see if you live to do it again!”

But he wasn't thinking about that, he wasn't thinking about anything beyond the pain that had gone from a dull ache to white hot in his chest, the absolute blinding rage and the sting of tears welling in his eyes from the sheer tidal wave of anger and despair.

“I DIED THAT DAY”

The tears turned to steam the second they left his eyes, smoldering trails out of either, just barely able to vent that little bit of flame into the world without hurting him but he didn't care if the proof of his despair was made obvious by it or not.

He didn't care about any of it. He didn't care he couldn't summon a single plume of fire or how completely eclipsed his ability was by the Monkey King's without it, and possibly even with his it. He only cared about making him pay. He pounced on the monkey when he seemed stunned by his vehemence.

The scuffle was brief but he DID get another hit in before he was pinned. This time it was a real punch, and it was just as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be.

But too soon was he pinned, The monkey pressing his front to the ground, a knee between his shoulder blades and his hands held together against the small of his back.

He let out a shout of rage, not even bothering to try and give any more words, no more words were necessary.

“Calm down! You need to listen-!”

The steam was clouding his eyes so greatly he was nearly blind with it, his fire was trying to come out unbidden to throw off his opponent, the scalding agony rippling through his body proof of such. But he was numb to it beyond it fueling his anger even further; maybe if he just burnt hot enough he could melt the cuffs right off of him. Everything was hurting, his clothes were going to be a holey mess, but he could smell cooking meat and he could only hope it was the monkey above him. He HAD to burn the Monkey King first. Even if he was immolated himself in the process!

“The only thing I'd like to listen to is your demise! You-! You wretched ape! You heartless horsekeeper! You took my everything you don't deserve the breath you stole from his lungs!” His own lungs ached, was it through holding back sobs? Was he experiencing smoke inhalation for the first time? He couldn't tell.

The pressure was off of his back and his hands were released, he made a blind swipe to try and right himself but his arms wouldn't obey him, and at that realization the pain finally kicked in.

The world went fuzzy at the edges, then dark at the edges. Until he could only see a small spot in front of him and the rest of his sight was naught but a haze of black.

Then everything was black-

It was probably his own flesh he could smell burning-

There was rapid muttering above him-

How embarrassing if this was what did him in, revenge in his grasp and he was too eager to kill the Monkey King right there he let cursed jewelry trick him into offing himself-

Someone was sobbing, was it him? He didn't think he had enough breath in his lungs for that-

The pain was going away, did that mean he was dying-

He tried to open his eyes, but he was still face down in the dirt and could only manage one, the former grassland around him was still smoldering from his fire as it eased back into focus, his breathing was ragged, and at some point his skin had stopped burning so hot, he felt cold.

The pain had eased but hadn't vanished, but the shock was still heavy in his system as he couldn't respond when he felt a pair of arms lift him up and pull him against a hard yet warm surface.

Dark fabric met his eye, and...he knew who this person was, didn't he? At some point in the writhing pain he'd forgotten just what he was doing here, mind going blank for everything but the burning sensation. But whoever they were they felt familiar. Their arms wrapped around his torso like they belonged there, as though the two of them were made to be like this.

The next thing that processed was the sound. His ear was pressed to the person's torso and he could hear the rabbit flutter of a panicked heartbeat. But nonetheless there was something... familiar about it. And alongside the heartbeat there was the vibration of words in the stranger's chest, but these he couldn't quite make out as their face was pressed against the top of his head, buried in his hair and making the words indecipherable.

It was then that his mind finally re-engaged and he realized that it was the Monkey King holding him so tenderly. His anger felt muted by the cold cold blanket of shock, but he still struggled in his grasp to pull away, if only to try and make sense of what was going on. If the Monkey King had such judgmental and inaccurate views of a man he'd never met before now, why was he doing this?

The Monkey King held him tight and he felt the shake of his shoulders as he was pressed even closer. Why was he shaking? He shifted again and this time found his face pressed against the dark fur of the Monkey's neck.

But it... felt off... it didn't feel real. It felt more like fabric with an illusion placed over it than it did actual fur...

The smell of burning flesh finally faded from his nose and was replaced with-

…What?

No that- that wasn't possible, he'd stolen Xiaotian's clothes sure but his face was pressed to the Monkey King's neck, that can't be his scent that can't be-

His arms were still aching as he reached up and found the knot tying the dark mask and headscarf around him. Both fabrics fluttered away and with them came a puff of a cloud of smoke, a shapeshifting form dissolving around him.

And he was pressed against a very human body.

This- this could still be a trap, this could be some sort of illusion to pacify him, so he wouldn't ask any more questions, so he'd just lose himself entirely-

The human—the alive human—clutching to him tightened his grip and he could finally make out the words he was muttering

“I'm so sorry never do that again you scared me to death I'm sorry I'm sorry-”

The cocky lit in his voice was gone and it sounded so achingly familiar without it, and the feeling and the scent and it- it couldn't be....

It had to be

It was a struggle, his arms still felt heavy from the echoes of pain and the numbness of realization, but he pulled away just enough to properly look at him and-

Oh...

Like the space between the stars...

“Xiaotian...”

He was crying, just beginning to pull himself together now. Pulling an arm off of him to scrub at that beautiful face. Those enchanting eyes he'd thought he'd never see again darted away from him and he wanted to protest at not being allowed to simply look at him after... after EVERYTHING... but he couldn't find breath in his lungs.

“I think your fiance's been tracking us- I hear horses. Can you walk?”

He tried to respond, he really did, but he found himself spellbound by the sound of his voice, just as he remembered it without the false persona twisting it until the point it had become unrecognizable.

“Red Son?” he shuddered at the sound of his own name being spoken by that voice again. So many emotions and memories, the hole in his chest finally being filled, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt this time he wouldn't let anything part them again still leaving him stunned. The fire was gone from his skin and finally, finally he felt one emotion beat the others and bubble up to the surface.

Red Son started to laugh. Tears bubbling up and sliding down his cheeks as true, overwhelming joy engulfed him. His arms ached and felt stiff from the burns he'd laid onto them but he pulled them around Xiaotian's shoulders all the same and squeezed with every ounce of strength that remained in his body.

“You're alive...” he wasn't sure if his laughter had turned to sobbing or if the two had simply mixed together but his breath was hitching and the tears wouldn't stop. “If you wanted I could fly”

Those arms pulled around him again and now he could truly appreciate just how easily the both of them fit together.

“I- I still don't understand, why did you accept the proposal if you still loved me?” Xiaotian's voice was a whisper against his shoulder, and he didn't want to think any more of his family's decisions and his hopeless acceptance, yet-

“My parents decided it, and what else could I have done?” he paused for breath “You were dead.”

Xiaotian responded with such conviction he had no choice but to instantly believe him:

“Death can't stop true love; it can only delay it for awhile.”

His lips were rougher than he remembered, but Red Son had no complaints upon kissing them again.

#Spicynoodleshipping #MK Red Son #Qi Xiaotian #MK Spider Queen #Spider queen dies :( sorry bout that #tw death #Red groom AU #vega writes stories too #Princess bride AU #Monkie Kid #LMK #Lego Monkie Kid

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loveisnotadagger · 3 years

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Love is Healing - Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Warning: There is a brief mention of when Loki let go of Thor's hammer when he was hanging from the Rainbow Bridge and how he had basically tried to kill himself by doing that. It's literally maybe three sentences, but it's there if that triggers something for you.

The only thing Loki really saw was the girl – no, Arianna; he remembered her name now. She has shoulder-length, honey blond hair, much like the color of his mother's hair, and bright ocean-blue eyes. That was all he noticed at that point and that was only because she was standing over him.

He took her in within the few seconds it took for his pain to register and then he felt as if he couldn't breathe. So intense was his agony that he couldn't even find the strength to scream out loud even though he knew he'd opened his mouth to do just that.

"Your ribs were broken," Arianna said. "I couldn't heal them completely. I'm sorry. I know it must be extremely painful."

She went on to tell him every other thing she'd found that needed to be healed. He no longer had any bruises, and she had healed his lungs, which had been damaged by the broken ribs.

"What you really need is food and water."

"Food sounds wonderful," Loki admitted weakly.

He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten. He did, however, remember that when he'd been under the control of Thanos he would sometimes miss many days' worth of meals when he wouldn't cooperate.

"I think we should start with broth. See how well that stays down before we give you solid food."

Before Loki could reply the door to the room opened.

Loki hadn't been paying attention before, but now that he could focus on something other than pain, he realized he had no idea where he was.

He would have to worry about that later, however, because the only thing that mattered at the moment was that he was weak and in pain, and the person who had opened the door was the man who could turn into a beast.

Loki had never moved so quickly in his life. It caused him more pain, but he didn't care. This man wasn't going to get hold of him again. He wouldn't survive another round of being smashed around.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting to his feet and running, using whatever strength he had left to push past Banner and get away.

"Loki," Arianna exclaimed, but he ignored her.

A sharp pain went through his chest and it had nothing to do with physical wounds. He'd trusted Arianna as much as he could trust anyone. He'd allowed her to lead him out of his tormented mind only to have him awake here with the one being in the whole of Midgard that had been able to hurt him.

As soon as Loki's feet hit the floor, he stood up only to fall right back down. The pain that fired throughout his body took his breath away and jarred him enough to break through his adrenaline-addled body.

So he couldn't even stand? How was he to escape his fate if he couldn't walk?

"Loki," the girl whispered, kneeling beside him. "I know what you're thinking, and it's not true. I didn't betray you, and Bruce will not hurt you. He has no reason to now."

Loki didn't respond vocally, but when Banner tried to help him stand and sit back on the bed Loki allowed it without complaint. The doctor was surprisingly careful and gentle with him.

"He needs water and food," Arianna said. "Broth to start off with. He is extremely malnourished."

Banner nodded. "I'll have Tony get something brought here. What should I tell Thor and –"

"They'll want to see him."

Loki noticed that Arianna was looking at him. She wasn't dictating that they had to see him. She was giving him a choice. He could decide for himself.

He gave a quick nod and Banner left. Only a few seconds passed before both Thor and his mother flooded into the room.

"Loki. My son," Frigga said and sprinted to his bedside. "You're awake."

"Careful," Arianna said. "He's still in pain. I wasn't able to heal him as fully as I wanted to."

"He is able to be awake," Thor said. "That is enough."

"Okay, well . . . I'll leave you guys to it."

Loki stiffened when Arianna touched his shoulder, but she didn't remove her hand.

"I'll be back shortly with some water and your food." ----------

Once outside the room, Arianna slid down to the floor with her back against the wall. She was exhausted mentally and physically. She'd had to break through Loki's defenses and she'd had to fight against Thanos. If he was that powerful in Loki's mind, she hoped she never came across him in real life.

She'd been anxious to get outside and help the victims of the earlier battle, but now she was glad she had to wait. She probably couldn't hold up against a flea at the moment.

Unbidden, tears stung her eyes. What was she doing? What had she been doing for the past however many hours? She'd been helping a criminal. True, Loki had been through a lot, but did that matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Who knew what he'd done before he'd been tortured? Maybe he'd been bad all along. She didn't know.

A quiet sob escaped her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She would not do this here where just anyone could walk by and see her.

"Aries?"

A figure hovered over her – short, dressed in black, red hair. Natasha – before sitting down with her. Arianna should have known that Natasha would be nearby. There was no way Tash would've gone far knowing her friend was in the other room with a psychopath.

"What's wrong? Did Loki hurt you?"

"No. Loki can barely sit up or stand. He's . . . he's – if he'd been human before now, he'd be dead."

"But he's not."

"No. I helped him a little bit . . . he's not him. Or . . . maybe he's more himself than ever. I don't know. But he's not the guy who tried to take over the world."

"That's a good thing. Why are you crying?"

"Because he's been through a lot, Tash. And I felt some of it. And I'm tired, and I just can't do anything else today."

"Then don't. You always push yourself too hard and then you end up feeling awful for days."

Arianna knew that was true, but she also knew she had several reasons for doing so. Because her best friend was a superhero, whether Natasha believed that or not, Arianna felt the need to prove that she was as useful as the other Avengers. She couldn't actually fight the bad guys, but she could clean up their messes. That was her job – or it had been until now.

"Am I crazy for wanting to heal him?" she asked. "I mean, I feel it was the right thing to do, but –"

"It is unprecedented," Natasha said. "But you also wouldn't be you if you didn't want to help. Just because he's a villain doesn't mean he can't also be a victim."

"He is," Arianna said. "He is a victim."

Natasha smiled softly. "Sometimes you care too much, Aries. Sometimes I think you're in the wrong line of work." ---------- Inside the room, Frigga was apologizing to Loki.

"Why did you not say anything before I stripped you of your powers?"

"I did not wish for you to know," Loki said.

What Loki wished was for Thor and Frigga to leave him alone. He was sitting up to save face, but he needed to lie back down. It was physically hurting him to stay upright.

And where was Arianna? He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he felt just a bit better with her in the room, and he would definitely need her with him once his mother and brother left. None of the other hero-types would dare touch him with her present.

Just as he was getting close to keeling over, Arianna came in. She was balancing a tray with a bottle of water and a steaming bowl of what Loki assumed was the broth she'd mentioned earlier.

"Hey," she said. "I got some vegetable soup and, obviously, water. You should lie down. I've got you covered."

She gestured to the tray she was holding. It had two legs that came down, one on either side.

Loki relaxed against the mattress, but he couldn't say he felt any more comfortable at all.

Arianna placed the tray down, one leg on either side of him, and then she reached down on the side of the bed. There was a small click and then then head of the bed was moving upward.

Loki stiffened. What kind of magic was this?

"It's just a hospital bed, Loki," Arianna said. "It'll help support you while you eat."

The soup looked good and smelled even better. He was so hungry, though, that the smell almost turned his stomach.

"Don't force yourself to eat, but you do need water. Drink it slowly or you'll get sick."

Why was she being so nice to him? What did she want?

"How long are you going to stay?" Arianna asked, looking at Thor and Frigga. "Not that you have to go, but you probably made the records with that energy spike you let loose by coming to this realm."

"In the morning when you begin the healing sessions again, we will leave," Frigga said. "You need to sleep and someone will need to stay with Loki."

"I am not a child," Loki said. "No one needs to stay."

That was a complete and utter lie. He needed someone with him because he really couldn't do for himself at the moment. The only thing that had been keeping the pain at bay had been his magic, and now he didn't even have that.

And . . . Arianna was going to continue to heal him? Why? For what purpose?

"Why would you do this for me?"

Arianna smiled softly. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I tried to destroy this city," he responded as if it were obvious.

"You didn't want to destroy it. You wanted to rule it."

Those were his own words from earlier and now she was throwing them back at him. Before he could respond, however, Arianna saw her way out of the room.

Both Thor and Frigga had small grins on their lips and Loki rolled his eyes.

Loki didn't find anything funny about having his words thrown back at him. In fact, it only made him remember her earlier words. She'd wanted him to help save her city even though he'd been the one to bring destruction down upon it.

Lost in his own thoughts, Loki was surprised when warm liquid filled his mouth. It was the vegetable soup. It had a savory flavor as if it had been made with chicken broth.

His mother had brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth. Thankfully, Thor had already gone; Frigga must've sent him away.

Loki was able to eat a few of the vegetables, but he stuck mostly to the broth. He was able to finish his water, however. ---------- Down in the lobby area, Arianna and the other Avengers were lounging around on the furniture, waiting for word on what they were supposed to do next.

Director Fury had called Tony to schedule a meeting, which just meant they'd been given about a five-minute heads up on Fury's arrival. He'd probably gotten readings of energy when Frigga had arrived on the balcony of Stark Tower.

What if he found out they were harboring Loki there? What if Fury already knew?

They would try to take Loki away and Arianna didn't know if she would allow that, not without healing him first. If she intervened, however, they would probably take her away too. They would arrest her for aiding and abetting – or they would try to. Natasha would probably stand by her and Clint would too, not because they cared what happened to Loki, but because they cared what happened to her; Thor would help her if only so she could continue helping Loki; Tony would stand by her just to make Fury angry.

The only wild card was Steve Rogers. If he thought them taking Loki was the right thing to do, he would let them.

Bruce wouldn't want to be involved at all.

When Fury arrived, Arianna basically shrank into herself. He was one of the most intimidating men she'd ever met. It had nothing to do with his height or the fact that he wore an eyepatch. It had everything to do with the way he carried himself. He had a no-nonsense attitude along with all the confidence in the world.

He could back that confidence up, too. He had the power and ability to do pretty much whatever he wanted, and he usually did whatever he had to do to get a job done.

"Where is he?" were the first words that came out of Fury's mouth.

"Where's who?" Tony asked.

"Don't play dumb with me. Where's the one who killed Coulson?"

"He is hurt," Arianna said softly. "And he can't be moved."

"Can't be moved? If I were to try and take him from here, who would stop me?"

Thor was the first to step up and then it was Arianna. Standing next to the god of thunder, Arianna didn't think Fury was all that frightening. Tony stood by her as Arianna had thought he would.

Natasha and Clint hesitated, but Natasha did say, "Director, from what Agent Grace says Loki was tortured into submission. He was promised more pain if he didn't obey."

"And did Loki just offer up this information freely?" asked Fury, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Not exactly," Arianna said.

And here was the turning point. She could either fess up and be turned into a weapon or she could keep quiet about everything and let Fury find Loki and take him away.

"Director Fury, I saw into his mind. I . . . didn't want to, but –"

"You what?"

"It's complicated," she said.

"I suggest you uncomplicate it," Fury demanded.

"I manipulate energy, Director. That's how I heal, and you know that. I can do pretty much anything I put my mind to."

"Like reading minds . . ."

"It was more like I could see what was in the forefront of his mind, and I didn't mean to do it. Our energies merged together and I just did."

"Why wasn't I made aware of this? Do you know how much you could do?"

"Yes, and that's why I didn't let you know. I mean, I'm basically a power source – like the Tesseract, and you wanted to make nuclear weapons out of that. I refuse to be used for destruction."

Arianna was aware she was exaggerating a bit. She couldn't really do anything she set her mind to, but she could do a lot. She had never really practiced, though, and she didn't really want to. She was fine not knowing how much she was capable of. She could heal people and that was enough for her.

"We have everything under control here," Tony said. "The guy is contained and no longer a threat."

"The energy readings you received earlier were from another Asgardian coming into our realm, sir," Natasha said. "Thor's and Loki's mother. She stripped Loki of his powers, so he really is harmless."

"He's mortal now," Thor said.

"He's still a terrorist and needs to be taken into custody," Fury stated.

"Not until he's better," Arianna said. "Give me a week."

"A week and he'll be better? Strong enough to be moved?"

"Yes. There are emotional traumas as well, but I can't really mend those."

"Well, we have psychologists to deal with that," Fury said. "You have a week, Agent."

Without further ado, Fury walked out the same way he came in.

"Thor, do you mind getting me the Tesseract? I can't actually heal Loki in a week, not by myself."

"What do you intend to do with it?" Thor asked, not suspicious but curious.

"Borrow energy." ---------- Loki was lying down and trying to sleep when Arianna came back to his room. He'd thought she was gone for the night but he'd obviously been wrong.

Thor was with her and he was carrying the container that held the Tesseract. What were they doing with it? He'd failed in his mission, and he couldn't get the Tesseract to Thanos now that he was mortal.

"We have a problem," Arianna said. "Fury wants to take Loki away. I bought us some time, but . . ."

"But?" Frigga asked.

"He only gave me a week." Arianna looked at Loki. "You don't want to be hurt when they take you from here. They might not hurt you further, but they won't take the time to heal you either."

"Are you sure no one would harm him?" Thor asked. "When Fury had him before, he asked me to . . . torture Loki to get information. He didn't seem to like it when I refused."

Arianna wasn't surprised when she found out Fury had suggested torture, but it had been different then. Fury didn't need information anymore and they already had the Tesseract.

"I want to spend another couple of hours healing you tonight. I can't heal the lashes until the infection leaves your body, but I can take the burns away, as long as you don't fight me this time."

"Of course I won't fight you," Loki said. "I don't think I was the one blocking your power last time."

Thanos, Arianna thought. Of course.

"Okay. I'm gonna need the room again," she told Thor and Frigga. ---------- "Oh, why isn't this working?" Arianna cried as she tried for the fifth time to draw the Tesseract's power into herself. "I did it without a problem earlier."

"Earlier you had not depleted your own energy," Loki said. "Your body is simply tired, as is your mind."

Loki had been watching her struggle for over thirty minutes now. Perhaps he was not meant to be healed that night. Pain was not new to him, so he could endure it.

"How did you end up with Thanos?" Arianna asked softly.

"I was . . . I fell off the Rainbow Bridge in Asgard."

"The what?"

"It's a bridge to other realms. When used with the Bifrost, it can take you anywhere in an instant."

"Oh."

Loki explained that he and Thor had been fighting and then Thor had destroyed the Bifrost. Both Loki and Thor had been hanging over the edge and Odin had stepped in. Odin had grabbed onto Thor and Loki had grabbed onto Thor's hammer. Loki had let go.

"And you woke up in a hell dimension?"

"If I'd had it my way, I wouldn't have woken up anywhere."

Arianna froze where she sat with the Tesseract in front of her, the blue cube shining bright but its power still not accessible to her.

"You wanted to kill yourself?"

Instead of answering directly, Loki said, "When I was a child I would spar with Thor. We had little toy swords and battle armor for children. He always won due to brute strength. Odin would pit us against each other in all things physical until I eventually just stopped fighting him."

"Did Odin get angry?"

"Yes."

Loki didn't know what he was doing. He shouldn't have said any of that. He didn't open up to people and especially not to people he'd just met. He blamed it on the pain he was in and the gratitude he tried not to feel for this girl for caring enough to help him. The extreme exhaustion didn't help him hold his tongue either.

"So, Thor is a warrior," Arianna said. "And you? What did you like to do?"

Loki was surprised to find Arianna was looking at him with open curiosity. She wasn't just asking. She really wanted to know.

"I spent most of my time in the library or studying magic with my mother, which made me an outsider."

"Why?"

"In Asgard men are expected to know how to fight. That's how they are recognized as men. It's how they are ranked. If you don't know how to fight, it is frowned upon."

"But you know how to fight."

"Yes, but not the way Thor does. He's stronger and bigger. I can't just punch my way out of a situation."

"Oh. And magic? What do they think of that?"

"It's considered underhanded. I can fight hand-to-hand if I must, but magic is my strength. I use it when I fight."

"I see nothing wrong with that."

"Of course not. You're a woman."

Loki noticed his remark made Arianna tense up and he realized how condescending he must've sounded.

"I assure you I didn't mean that the way I said it. I only meant that it was normal for women to study magic. Not so for men. There are very few warriors who are female."

"Hm. I hate fighting, so I would fit right in there. And I don't consider what I do to be magic. Others might see it as such because they don't understand how it's done, but . . . to me it's as natural as breathing. Or it normally is."

Loki realized that he knew next to nothing about this girl – and to him she was a girl. He was almost fifteen-hundred-years-old and she was probably twenty-five at the oldest.

Loki had been able to look into the other Avengers before he'd even attempted to fight them. Since Arianna had been called in only slightly before the attack on the city, he hadn't thought to ask Barton about her. He hadn't even known she existed.

She was by far the most interesting of the Avengers. She had so much power yet to look at her made one think otherwise. She was treating him like a friend would even though they couldn't be friends. They barely knew each other.

"Why're you being so nice to me?"

"Why not?"

That was the same answer she'd given earlier when he'd asked her why she was doing everything she could to heal him. It was infuriating.

"Don't give me that. I tried to take over your world. I destroyed half this city. You have every right to hate me. Aren't you angry? Do you not want revenge?"

To Loki's surprise, the girl laughed softly.

"You forget, Loki, that I saw into your mind. I know enough to know that your psyche was messed with enough to twist you into something you really aren't. And you're right. I could hate you, but I choose not to. Hate is a poison, one of the most lethal kinds.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but I get the feeling that you hate yourself enough for everyone. We don't need to do it for you."

For some reason, unknown even to Loki, her response made rage flow through his veins.

"Why do you care?" he almost yelled. "What are you getting out of this?"

Loki noticed with some satisfaction that Arianna had flinched when he'd raised his voice. That was when he realized the conundrum that was Arianna. She was both one of the boldest and most easily frightened people he'd ever met. She didn't care for confrontation, but she wasn't afraid to tell anyone what was on her mind either.

"I care because . . . I don't know. I don't really have a good reason. I just care about people. I don't like seeing people hurting or suffering when they don't need to."

This she said softly, as if she were trying not to wake a sleeping child, but then she looked at Loki more seriously, almost glaring.

"As for what I'm getting out of it, it's peace of mind. I don't help people just because they need help. I help because I can, because I have the power to. I find it revolting that there are so many people in this world who can help but choose not to.

"So to ease your troubled mind, this has nothing to do with you. I'm trying to heal you for the sole purpose that you are suffering and I can end it. It makes me feel better when I help those in need.

"Now if you don't mind, please shut up. I'm trying to work."

#loki #loki/oc #loki x reader #loki/ofc #love is healing #chapter four

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lluvguts · 3 years

Text

the best medicine // wolfstar

pairing: sirius black / remus lupin

warnings: all fluff! so none! :)

word count: 1,833

summary: Sirius won't let Remus out of his sight until he feels better again. Even if that means breakfast in bed.

n/a: adding most of my ao3 fics onto here! if you enjoyed reading, check out my page here and requests are open so just message me!!

Sirius had woken up with a frown, fully expecting Remus to be curled into his side—in the predawn hours before Remus returned to his own bed, as the others knew well enough about their relationship but Remus and Sirius were much too afraid of any Professors finding out. But sadly Sirius’s sheets were cold without a warm, sleepy Remus and dark from the bed curtains which were oddly shut. Their dormitory wasn’t filled with its usual chatter, meaning either the rest of their friends had left to breakfast without him, or they were still sound asleep.

“Moons?” Sirius whispered softly into the quiet, slipping a finger through the curtains to see. He was right. Peter and James had already left for breakfast—along with Lily from the girl’s chambers, no doubt. Remus’s bed was next to his own and Sirius saw with a thudding heart that Remus was slumped over with his back to him, with mussy hair peeking out of the sheet. It might have been a Saturday, but Remus was never one to mope about.

That was...weird. Remus always at least tipped his head up, any indication that he’d heard him. Something was definitely wrong, and Sirius prayed it was not some prank that the others were playing on him. Perhaps they used a Polyjuice Potion to trick Sirius into thinking that his boyfriend wasn’t a magicked Peter. Yuck.

“Remus, you alright?” Sirius tried again, slipping out from the comfort of his bed to slide onto the soft covers to Remus. He set a hand against his head, leaning to see that Remus had circles lining his dark green eyes. Yes, it was definitely the real Remus. He had the same healing scrapes on his bare shoulders and neck from a full moon nights ago, the price to pay for being a werewolf.

Sirius set aside the first reason he was concerned and found a new one as he touched one purply bruise on Remus’s jaw, making both wince.

“Do you need me to get some ice from the dining hall? These marks still look bad, Moony.”

Remus snaked a hand free from his sheets and moved Sirius’s hand away. “I’m fine, Pads. You don’t have to worry over me. Go off to breakfast, I heard James was going to save you a seat.”

“Well what about you ? Why won’t you come?” Sirius settled closer on the bed, craning over Remus to see his face.

“I’m...I don’t feel well,” Remus murmured, not meeting Sirius’s eyes.

Sirius saw right through his lie. It was in the way Remus bit down on his lip, and if it was at all possible his eyes darkened further into sad, pitiful slits as he stared at the far wall.

“What’s the matter? I know when you aren’t being truthful, Moons.”

His attempts at pushing Sirius away only made him scoot closer, and made that stirring in his gut wrench around like a headless rabbit at the sight of something else. There weren’t just bruises dotting Remus’s cheeks from days before—as if that alone wasn’t enough to worry Sirius sick over—underneath Remus’s eyes were dried tears.

Sirius didn’t rush to ask about the tears just yet. He only watched, and even that was a difficult feat, he hated when Remus was upset . Especially when he had no way to help. Remus was silent, emotions flickering across his eyes as the sunlight streamed across the white sheets in little glowing patches. But soon it was as though the intent to keep Sirius as far from him as possible faded away with some burst of clarity and Remus instead shifted higher up on his pillows to grab Sirius’s eager hands.

His voice wavered, looking Sirius straight in the eyes made his face redden. “Could you stay here, er, with me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but quite frankly, I’m scared to be alone...I haven’t been sleeping well—well, I only truly sleep when I’m with you. But see, last night I...I was—“

Sirius put a free hand to Remus’s lips, and his worried expression softened.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Moons. Of course I’ll stay.”

Remus sighed in relief and opened his mouth—to say thank you, Sirius assumed—but was interrupted by a rumbling coming from his own stomach. Both boys grinned at this and shared a gentle laugh. Sirius pulled him in for a hug, one that Remus accepted with both hands wrapped around his nightshirt.

“I’ll stay, on one condition: at least let me get you something to eat,” Sirius said against Remus’s hair.

“Just nothing with animal meat...goodness, Sirius, I’ve grown so sick of the taste of...of,” Remus trailed off, that sadness in his eyes returning.

“Don’t worry,” Sirius kissed his forehead, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Sirius hardly paid much attention to the portrait’s protests as he exited the Gryffindor common room and raced down the steps—minding the gaps and shifting staircases—toward the main hall where the rest of the Hogwarts students were enjoying breakfast.

“Ah! It’s about time you showed up! In your pyjamas, too,” James greeted Sirius with a wave and a cheeky mouthful of bacon. “Where’s your other half?”

Sirius fought the impulse to smile. “Resting. He’s ill, I’m to bring him some breakfast.”

James turned to Lily and Peter—as well as the other Gryffindors who had happened to overhear his boisterous voice—and began to laugh.

“Oh, Moony is sick , you say? That’s why you’re rushing about, just to run back up to his beck and call? Are you sure you’re not just going back to go snog in the common room—“

“ Keep your voice down!” Sirius hissed with a breathy laugh.

James reached over the table to tug on Sirius’s black hair, then slung an arm affectionately around Lily, who rolled her eyes.

Sirius poured Remus’s tea strong, just how he liked it. A dash of cream, no sugar. That was if Remus even wanted tea to begin with. Sirius examined the breakfast banquet before him on the Gryffindor table again, growing more and more anxious over what food Remus might like best. He did say no meat, so the scrambled eggs and strips of bacon were certainly out of the question...Sirius chose a few less burnt slices of toast instead, with a saucer of jam and some chopped fruit to pile onto the fresh plate.

“Are you gonna eat, Sirius?” Peter asked as he watched him add a few more strawberries onto the already filled plate.

In answer to this Sirius slipped some bacon into his mouth and grabbed James’s half-empty mug of coffee before spinning back out of the Great Hall toward Gryffindor Tower, using both hands to carry Remus’s plate and tea.

James leapt from the table, as if to playfully lunge across the rows of students. “ Oy! You come back here with that, Pads!”

Sirius grinned over his shoulder at James and took a swig from the lukewarm coffee. He almost spit it out though, it was much too sugary for his liking.

“It is sweet of him, James. Maybe you’ll do that for me someday,” Lily mused before Sirius disappeared around the corridor and could not hear the rest of their conversation.

With his hands full, he had to use his foot to open the portrait into the common room, resulting in the Fat Lady’s shrieks in disapproval at Sirius’s toes touching the canvas. He muttered his apologies and practically raced up the boy’s staircase to the dormitories, the dishes clattering all the while.

“Sirius?” Remus called in a hushed voice, turning in bed so that Sirius could smile at his drowsy face and the strands of his light brown hair in disarray around the pillows.

Sirius took off his shoes and climbed into Remus’s bed, setting the tray of breakfast food carefully on Remus’s lap.

He took a drink from James’s coffee. “Eat.”

Remus scanned the food before choosing a slice of toast, chewing thoughtfully.

“Did you have any?” Remus gestured to the tray, but Sirius waved him off.

“Moons,” Sirius started with a heavy heart, inching closer until their knees touched. He waited until Remus was done with his toast to touch one of his tired eyelids, his fingers brushing the tear stains. “Why were you crying?”

Remus didn’t flinch. He sat rigid as Sirius moved the tray to the nightstand and planted his other hand to his cheek.

“I couldn’t sleep, I told you,” Remus mumbled, looking into Sirius’s eyes with embarrassment.

“Enough for tears , Moons? You cry over O.W.L. scores, not sleepless nights.”

Remus sighed, his words coming out choppy and full of emotion. “I’ve been having nightmares. About getting stuck as a werewolf, and showing up in places where everyone can see me. They either laugh and point, or cower in fear and use curses on me. I tried hurting you and the others once...I killed innocent animals...I can’t seem to—oh, never mind. That’s about when I woke up and decided to stay awake. But I didn’t want to worry you with it so I just went to my own bed.”

“You know you could have woken me. I’m very good at distracting,” Sirius held Remus’s face and brushed a thumb along his skin, marred by old wounds.

“You’re more of a distraction than a distractor. Hate to inform you,” The pain in his eyes lifted and Remus was smiling now.

Sirius chuckled. “C’mere then, I’ll distract you some more.”

Remus took the front of Sirius’s nightshirt with both hands as Sirius flipped him over. Like they always did, Remus nestled into a comfortable position on top of him, wrapping his arms around Sirius’s neck while his legs hugged his waist. Sirius pulled the covers over them both and rested his hands in Remus’s hair.

“You can try and rest now, if you’d like,” Sirius whispered.

Remus stared down at Sirius’s contented face with his own tired one. “Not just yet.”

“Moony, one of these days you’ll keel over from exhaustion—“ Sirius said but was cut off by a soft kiss on his lips. His whole body flooded with a smothering heat, and he brought Remus’s face closer to cradle his neck and deepen the kiss.

Remus pulled away and pressed his nose to Sirius’s neck, his eyelashes tickling his skin.

“A goodnight kiss, eh?” Sirius said with a little laugh.

Remus murmured something back, probably a reminder to wake him up at a certain hour or to stop his teasing. Sirius held him against his chest and listened to the pattern of his breathing, looking up at the ceiling as Remus drifted to sleep.

Remus really was right. The boy could only fall asleep when Sirius was with him. And he only let the dark thoughts that plagued him drift away when Sirius was cuddling him close—and kept him tucked safe in his arms.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fanfic #fluff #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #marauders #harry potter fanfiction #first post eeek #soft remus lupin #remus x sirius #hp fluff #time to shitpost #fluff and comfort #emotional h/c #h/c prompt #soft angst #fluff for the soul

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parvulous-writings · 3 years

Text

A Ship’s Crew

Victor Farley x Mainland!Reader

Genre: Adventure

Warnings: Mentions of death, and bones.

Summary: The reader has chosen to join Captain Victor Farley, and the crew of the Omen. An introduction to the main members of The Omen.

Words: 2.6K

Notes: Wow! Recently reached 200 followers! I am beyond amazed! Thank you all so, so much for showing interest in my work! It means so much to me! :D My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Thank you to the amazing @rey-is-not-a-skywalker for allowing me to use their wonderful characters, Stubbs and Destiny! Truly, it would not be a story without that pair. This is for you, bor.

Not my gif

“Well, now you know just a little bit more about the world around you, and what we as a crew stand for.” Victor spoke again. “You of course have a day or so to think on it, but… Would you care to join us?” He extends a hand to you.

Do you take it?

You consider the Captain’s offer for a moment, running your current and available options through your mind, before extending your hand to meet his, shaking it with a firm grip. He gave you a charming and hearty grin, starting to laugh happily. “Oh, splendid, splendid!” He exclaimed, moving his other hand so that they both clasped yours. “We’ll make you feel right at home here, I assure you... We’ll get you your own equipment when we get to Galleon’s Grave- for now, though, let’s get you introduced properly to the crew, shall we?” He grinned, walking around the table, and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Ah, wait, hold on.” He chuckled, slipping away from you again and grabbing his heavy coat from where he had left it over the back of the chair. He slipped his arms through the green and grey sleeves, doing up the middle two buttons. Victor looked to you, gesturing with his head towards the cabin door. “Well, let’s get moving then, whilst there’s still some daylight to be utilised.” He held the heavy door for you, and you step out on to the deck again. The crew were still rushing this way and that- though they seemed to have calmed down considerably since you last saw them. They were moving much slower now, more of a meander than anything. Victor payed them no or little mind, beckoning for you to follow him up some steps, towards the helm. You take the steps carefully as the keel of the ship rode and broke through a particularly rough wave. Farley cleared his throat to capture your attention, and you turn to look towards him, rather than the expansive open waves that covered the horizon. “This man here,” He placed his gloved hands on the shoulders of the man stood at the helm- his bright red and yellow coat a stark contrast to the dull and dark colours of the ship’s deck. “Is Stubbs. He’s my first mate; and the finest merchant I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting on these seas.” The man he was essentially showering with compliments gave a quiet chuckle. “Thank you, Captain.” Stubbs replied, a wide smile on his face. “Of course, my good man. You know I only speak the truth.” Farley gave him a fond smile as he spoke. “We’ve known each other since the day I arrived on these seas,many years ago, and hopefully we’ll know each other for many more to come.” Stubbs nodded happily in agreement with this. It was quite clear from the way they were acting around each other that they were close. They were so relaxed, and so obviously happy, it brought a smile to your own face.

“So, sir,” You start, and Victor turned his gaze onto you. “How long have you been here?” You asked him, and his brows furrowed slightly as he started to think. He ran one hand over his mustache and down his beard. “I’m not quite sure... I had just turned nineteen when I decided to stay here on the Sea of Thieves...” He looked to Stubbs, “How many years have we known each other, Stubbs?” He asked, quietly, as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Stubbs shook his head with a gentle laugh, “Too many, and not enough, sir.” Was the first mate’s happy reply. Victor playfully rolled his eyes at this answer, laughing softly at his friend. “Good enough, thank you,” He started to move away from the helm, beckoning for you to follow behind him. “Before you go, sir- we’ve about an hour till we arrive at Galleon’s Grave.” Stubbs pointed to the horizon as he spoke- and you could see a rather pointed island off in the distance, and you presumed it to be the outpost that Victor had spoken about prior. “Ah, brilliant. Keep her steady for me for the time being. I’ll bring her in to port shortly.” He assured Stubbs, which seemed to relief the merchant a little bit. Truth be told, it was risky business letting anyone besides Captain Farley sail The Omen into port, either at an outpost or an island, for the ship did not seem to respond as well to anyone else.

You get guided down the steps back onto the main deck. Victor leads you towards the central mast, on which leant a young woman- topless bar a few deep blue bandages around her chest, shorts with a belt that seemed to only serve the purpose of holding a cutlass every now and then. Her chest was smothered in tattoos, similar to how Victor’s arms had been. These were very different in hue though; where Victor’s had been a rather faded black ink, this woman’s was a stark and rather vibrant red. They looked almost... Sore. “This is Destiny.” Victor’s voice roused you from your thoughts, as your eyes locked with the cerulean haired woman, who gave you a little bit of a smirk. “Our resident Reaper representative.” “Try saying that three times fast, eh, sir?” Destiny chuckled, as she pushed herself away from the mast. Victor rolled his eyes at her joke, folding his arms over his chest and using one hand to prompt her to introduce herself through her own words. Destiny turned her gaze back to you, “As Captain Farley said- I’m the Reaper’s Bones representative here on The Omen. I do what I have to to get a job done, you follow?” She paused, and you gave her a little bit of a vague look. “Okay, okay; I do risky things some people think are stupid.” She simplified her explanation quickly. “They are stupid.” Victor mumbled as he looked over to the right, and Destiny sighed in exasperation. “No, they’re not. Name one thing I’ve done recently that was stupid, Captain.” She challenged. “Would you like the alphabetical list, or the chronological one? I’m fairly certain that Stubbs has both in his possession.” Farley replied, deadpan. Destiny didn’t look impressed, to say the least. “Off the top of your head, sir.” She clarified. “Alright.” Victor adjusted his stance slightly, prepping himself for his example. “Last Monday- we were doing our usual route around Crescent Isle and Sailor’s Bounty, and you launched yourself off of the ship, and straight into a gunpowder skelly, merely because you claimed to see what we were searching for.” You didn’t understand much of what Victor was saying, but from the mention of gunpowder you gathered it was none too pleasant. “I did see it! I saw the loot, I swear!” She exclaimed. “The skeleton just... Got in the way! It wasn’t there when I fired myself out of the canon!” Victor ran his hand over his face as Destiny kept on talking. “You may be one of my most trusted friends, my girl, but.. Sometimes I do wish you’d think things like that through, rather than being so... Recklessly impulsive.” He turned on the heel of his boot to walk away, but it seemed that Destiny had one last thing to add. “I got us the gold, though, didn’t I?” You didn’t need to look at Destiny to know she had a rather smug smirk on her face- you could hear it in her tone. Victor looked over his shoulder, and gave a simple nod. “Yes, Destiny, you got us the gold.” He replied, simply, before facing ahead again and heading up towards the held once more. Destiny gave you a two fingered salute as she took up her normal space leaning against the central mast- where you had found here earlier. “Catch you later, rookie.” She grinned at you, before turning her attention back to the crew who were now rushing around about her.

You jog to catch up with Victor, nearly slipping on the sea-soaked wood beneath your feet. The Captain grabbed your forearm, laughing softly. “Careful there.” He pulled you back up so you could steady yourself again. “Don’t worry, you’ll be getting used to things like that...” He told you as he started up the steps towards Stubbs and the helm. “You know what? I’ll buy you a good pair of boots- you’ll be needing them I think.” He glanced down at your shoes as he spoke. You smile appreciatively at his offer, and nod heartily in agreement. “You never know,” The Captain continued, “You night be able to get a coat like mine.” He mused. Stubbs was within earshot of the pair of you now, and merely laughed at Victor’s comment. “Who on all these seas would want a coat as heavy or as dull as yours, Sir?” The merchant joked with a wide grin, to which Victor replied with a playful slap. At this, instead of retaliating, Stubbs relinquished the wheel- and it was here you managed to catch a glimpse of what the wheel was fashioned out of. Instead of wood, as one may have expected, the spokes were made out of... Bones. Human bones. You give a quiet, almost horrified gasp as you take an instinctive step back, and Stubbs quickly moves to catch you should you fall. “I know how bad it may seem to you,” The Aussie blurted, “But truthfully it’s not as bad as it may seem- they’re skeleton bones!” He exclaimed, before realising what might be wrong with that explanation. “That is to say, they were essentially dead when we got to them...” He explained, and you calmed down ever so slightly. “You remember what I said about the Order of Souls?” Victor asked you, calling over his shoulder as he navigated the sea vessel around a rock protruding from the ocean waves, “Well, this is one of the rewards they may try to give you when you bash enough skeletons back into the sand. The capstan, and canons are the same- see?” He pointed briefly forward, down to the deck. At a glance, you didn’t see anything as unusual as the wheel had been. Then you saw them- first the skull, seated in the middle of the capstan, surrounded by femurs; and then the canons, adorned with the ribcages of long dead skeletons. Truly, if you were an enemy of the Order of Souls, The Omen would be one hell of an adversary to get through.

“Raise middle and back sails!” Victor bellowed, making sure his voice reached all the crew on deck. The crew immediately set about following the orders they had been given, shouting to one another to communicate which way to pull the ropes, all working together as one to do as they had been told. Victor was quickly turning the wheel, and now you could in part understand why his arms had been so toned when he rolled up his sleeves back in the captain’s cabin. “Raise the front sail!” His voice boomed again, as the ship drew closer to the wooden dock. “Should we anchor, sir?” Stubbs asked, and Victor shook his head in reply. “When do we ever anchor, Stubbs?” He retorted with a faint chuckle. “It makes us sitting ducks- we’ve been through this before.” “I know, Captain,” Stubbs sighed, sounding a little exasperated. He shook his head as Victor patted his shoulder with a laugh. “Now, now, don’t go sulking off. I know that look.” Victor grinned at the man he was speaking with. “I was hoping you could help Ver and Jade deliver some of our cargo to the merchants whilst I take our new crew member down to the tavern and the other facilities available.” Stubbs looked over his shoulder with a smile. “Alright... I can never refuse something like that from my Captain.” The merchant mused, before heading down the stairs onto the main deck, talking with two other crew members dressed in similar clothes to him- they must have been Jade and Ver. “Right, now this way,” Victor caught your attention, leading you to the side of the ship on deck, where a gang plank had been lowered onto the dock. The sound of Victor’s boots on the surface of the wood sounded almost like a horse, and you followed swiftly after, glancing up and down the dock.

You had disembarked near a small market stall-like structure built into the dock- covered in crates, cages and other goods to be transported across the seas. Stubbs, Ver and Jade moved towards the small area, arms full of crates of silks and tea. They were very clearly the merchants, and welcomed the three pirates graciously. You walk further, and the wooden planks of the dock transition into soft sand. You walk up a little slope, catching up with Victor and walking beside him as he reaches the door of the local tavern. There was a woman leaning against a support beam, and eating a mango. “Ah, Captain Farely. It’s good to see you again, how long has it been?” She asked him with a smile. “A long time, Larina.” Victor replied with a chuckle, “But I can’t stop now- new crewmate to become acquainted with,” He nodded to you as he held the heavy tavern door open, gesturing for you to enter the dimly lit establishment first. “I’ll be seeing you.” He nodded to Larina, ducking inside as she waved her goodbye with a low chuckle.

The tavern was rather small- it would just barely be able to fit the crew of the Omen in there, and not all of them would be able to sit down. “You go and find a seat, I’ll get us some drinks.” He told you, and you nodded in reply. He approached the bar, smiling in greeting at the barmaid. You see them exchange a few words as you take a seat at a round, rough table. The wood threatened to stab a splinter into you hand or finger, so you try to keep your skin away from the surface. Victor soon returned to you, placing a large, metallic tankard in front of you; to which you give him a quizzical look. “Is this..?” “All yours, yes.” Victor chuckled. “It’s alright, I was just as concerned when my captain put my first tankard in front of me.” He told you, taking a slow sip of the frothy grog in his own tankard. “Take it slowly- it’s strong stuff. You’ll get used to it eventually, but for now just take it one mouthful at a time,” He suggested with a warm and friendly smile. He then raised his tankard ever so slightly, extending it to you. “Well- to the newest member of the family on The Omen!” He proclaimed. “May your seas be blue and calm, you gold and glory bountiful in equal measure!” He chuckled, as you gently knocked your tankard against his with a small, almost invisible sheepish smile. You take a cautious sip of the alcohol, and almost choke on the liquid. “Oh my god,” You sputtered. “That’s revolting!” You slam the tankard down onto the table, causing it to shake, and Victor chuckles lightly. “Yes...” He agreed quietly, looking down into the barrel of his drink. “It is less than savoury... But honestly, after a while, you don’t really notice it.” He leant a little bit closer to you so he could whisper. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to finish it all.” He assured you, before leaning back and getting comfortable again. “Anyway. After this, we’ll get you some proper gear- you can pick out whatever you like, I’ll splash out on you this once. But you lose or damage any of it- you’re on your own for that.” He grinned playfully. “Alright, thank you, Victor.” “My pleasure,” Farley nodded, raising his tankard again before taking another sip.

#sea of thieves #sea of thieves x reader #sea of thieves oneshot #pirate oc #pirate oc x reader #pirate #pirates #pirate x reader

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fairfaxleasee · 3 years

Text

Accidental DADW Prompt

All credit/blame for this goes to @rangeredacted who decided she needed to send me all the Ever Given/Suez Canal fic on AO3 today. My brain decided to turn it into a @dadrunkwriting prompt.

Pairing: Fenris/f!Hawke

CW: satire, terrible innuendo, poor life choices

"Hawke, come quick - it's an emergency!" Isabela had started shouting before she even opened the doors to Cassia Hawke's office in the Viscount's Keep.

Fenris decided to ignore how she managed to evade all the guards, not to mention Aveline, and why the damn cat-thing wasn't trying to kill her (in its defense, it wasn't used to people just flinging open the doors to Cass' study).

"I know it's an emergency, I'm seven thousand royals short on the repairs and I'm out of things to tax!" Cass pushed the piles of papers strewn over her desk around, almost as though putting them in a different order would solve the problem that had been vexing her most of the past month. The structural damage from Anders' attack had been worse than she'd initially thought and she'd been forced to scrap a triage approach to the repairs.

"No, Hawke, this is an actual emergency!" Isabela snatched the papers Cass was flipping through out of her hand and looked around, "And I need you to solve it before Aveline sees!"

"...why?"

"I - look, she's just going to waste a lot of time doing her 'I told you so's and 'what were you even thinking's and neither of those things are going to help any! Fenris, she listens to you, you tell her to help!"

"Not until you explain what this is," he narrowed his eyes - Isabela had a habit of underestimating just how far in over her head she was.

"I - well, I think it might be better if you see-"

"Hawke, Aveline wants you down at the Harbor, and-" Donnic stopped when he saw Isabela. "Seriously? Again?"

"Donnic! Ruggedly handsome as always! Any chance Aveline's in a good mood?" Isabela batted her eyes at the man.

"Well, when she realizes whose fault this is she will be for about half a second..."

"Don't worry; Hawke's going to fix it!"

"Hawke is not going to fix it, Hawke is staying right here until she comes up with another seven thousand royals," Cass was back trying to will her ledgers to add up correctly.

Donnic motioned for Fenris to get closer to him. Fenris raised an eyebrow which only made the man motion more frantically. He rolled his eyes and obliged. Once he was close enough, Donnic whispered to him, "She's going to be a lot more than seven thousand royals short if she doesn't fix this soon - Kirkwall needs its harbor working."

"What's wrong with the harbor?" Fenris asked.

"...you wouldn't believe me if I told you. And no, Cassia's not going to like it. But she does need to fix it."

Maybe whatever this is will finally be enough to make her quit...

Fenris called over to Cass, "I don't think you're going to get any work done until you go see what this is."

Cass growled discontentedly but put her papers down.

"Now, Hawke, when you get there - just remember it was the wind, not me, alright?" Fenris doubted Isabela was helping her case any.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Isabela," Cass empathized each syllable as she glared at what had pulled her from the Keep. "Why the fucking fuck is there a Qunari dreadnaught blocking my fucking harbor!"

"Well, it's not really a Qunari dreadnaught anymore, it's my dreadnaught-"

"YOU STOLE A QUNARI DREADNAUGHT?!?" Fenris, Cass, and Aveline shouted in unison. Fenris found the fact Isabela had done something so monumentally short-sighted both unbelievable and inevitable.

"Did you learn NOTHING from what happened last time you stole from them?" Cass was glaring at the dreadnaught that was now her problem.

"I learned you're good at getting me out of trouble?" Cass snapped her glare to Isabela, "Besides, I didn't steal this, I found it. It was just floating, and no one was using it at the time, and I thought it would make a good flagship."

Fenris narrowed his eyes, "You don't just find Qunari dreadnaughts floating around."

"Well, I mean, maybe it was in a harbor at the time..."

"So you stole it!" Aveline stalked over to Isabela.

"I boarded it fair and square. Or, well, fair and square by Raider standards anyway."

Fenris decided to let Aveline handle Isabela for the time being. He approached Cass and placed a hand on her shoulder, "So... thoughts?"

"Lots. Most of them involve wanting to do things like keel-haul Isabela, but none of them help me figure out what to do about this. Oh! What about fire?"

"That depends on what you want to use it on; if it's to burn Isabela at the stake or something I'll go get the kindling, but if you want to use it on the dreadnaught, I wouldn't recommend it. They're booby-trapped with gattlock charges."

"Ugh!" Cass stalked over to where the ship was wedged against the harbor, then called over to Aveline, "Aveline! Come with me, I need someone to shout at all the dockworkers for me!"

"I'm not done with you yet!" Aveline shook her finger in Isabela's face one last time before moving to follow Cass to the crowd of dockers looking on.

Isabela stuck out her tongue at the Guard Captain's back and wandered over to Fenris. "So, going to yell at me too?"

"I wasn't planning on it; Aveline seems to have it well in hand, and she's better at it than me."

"Then why aren't you stalking off after Hawke? You're usually won't let her get more than three feet from you. You're not on the outs again, are you? If you want to reconsider my offer..." she leaned towards him. He waited until she was just about touching him to step back, causing her to stumble.

"Cass and I are fine. And no one's going to try and assassinate her until she fixes this - no one wants Kirkwall's harbor blocked. And if I wanted to catch something-"

"Hmph! You could have just said 'no,' you know!"

"Yes."

"So if you're not going to yell at me or hover over Hawke, what are you going to do?"

"Hmm, well, I was just thinking I'm a bit surprised that you don't have any experience inserting objects into holes correctly."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny!"

"Or that you've never gotten something wedged somewhere inconvenient before and had to get it unstuck for yourself."

"Hilarious, Fenris."

"Why did you even try sideways in the first place, you had to know that wouldn't work."

"I TOLD you at the Keep, it was the wind! And this isn't funny at all, you know! What if Hawke decides to do something that hurts my new boat?"

"You don't strike me as someone who's scared of ramming."

"I'm warning you, Fenris!"

"Do you wonder if this could have been avoided if you're remembered to use some lubrication?"

"OH THAT IS IT!" Isabela sprang at him. She leapt on his back and started tugging at his hair and ears.

"Get off me, wench! What are you even doing?" Fenris reached up to try and pry Isabela off him.

"I'm making you shut your mouth is what I'm doing!"

"You want to make someone else shut something? Is that what happened with the boat? You saw an opening and-"

Fenris had been so busy trying to dodge Isabela's hands he'd forgotten how close to the harbor they were. He stumbled, put his foot on nothing, and sent them both tumbling into the water.

At least he finally managed to successfully dislodge Isabela. He broke the surface and started coughing.

"FENRIS!" Cass had come over and was leaning over the edge of the harbor.

"You get back here, Fenris, I'm not done with you - shit, I mean, hello, Hawke - your boyfriend and I were just having a nice discussion and I was being very nice but not too nice to him."

Cass shot Isabela a glare then reached down to help Fenris back onto the dock. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Aveline walked up behind Cass, "Isabela just went and got herself all wet again."

"You're all hilarious, you know that?" Isabela was treading water, she knew better than to get too close to Cass and Aveline when they were both mad at her.

"Well, you do make it easy for us. But you make it easy for everyone, don't you?" Aveline retorted before shifting her focus to Cass, "We've got the winches in place. Once we shift the balance we should be able to pull the blighted thing out and move it down the coast a bit."

"What? You're going to sink my boat!"

"Well, that's not the plan but I fully understand that's a possible outcome," Cass responded.

"So... I can get my boat back then?"

"Only if you can pay the impound fee."

"Impound fee?"

"Yes, that ship was blocking the harbor, it required civic resources to dislodge it and disrupted trade for an afternoon. I'm impounding it and I'm not releasing it to anyone who doesn't pay the fee."

"What's the fee?"

"Well, I'll have to go to the Keep to double-check some of the numbers, but I think it's going to be in the neighborhood of seven thousand royals."

#dragon age #dragon age ii #fenris x femhawke #female hawke #fenris #dragon age fenris #dragon age isabela #aveline #satire #i regret nothing #i regret everything #da drunk writing circle

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Drop: Chris (BTHB: Wrapped in Blankets)

Prompt fill for @badthingshappenbingo : Bundled Up in Blankets, requested by @scorpiowhump for Chris.

CW: Trauma recovery, referenced pet whump and institutionalized/legal slavery. Referenced negative/self-injury stimming including head banging.

Direct sequel to This Isn’t Hypothetical for Chris.

“I, I’ll just drop the class. That’s, that’s, that-that’s what I’ll do, just drop the, um, the the class, Jake, is all-”

“Bullshit. Making you drop a class because you were right is fucking bullshit.” Laken sits back, frowning, and Chris’s eyes skip to the side, away from the sparking, crackling fury there. Their fingertips brush over the bandage they’ve applied to the side of Chris’s forehead, and he winces at the sting. “Sorry. You were hitting your head again, weren’t you?”

Chris lets his eyes roll up towards the ceiling, chin tipping with the motion, and he doesn’t answer the question. He only pulls the pale blue weighted blanket that Laken gave him for his birthday around himself tightly. With its heavy soft warmth, he feels less like he’ll float away, or crack apart into a thousand puzzle pieces.

“Chris,” Laken says, soft but insistent, taking his hands in theirs, holding his long, cold fingers in their warmer, smaller hands. “You can’t keep doing that. You’ve been banging your head all week since it happened. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Chris’s fingers twitch in their grip, but he doesn’t answer them. He can’t, can’t think of how to explain the noise inside his head, the jangling off-key sound of his thoughts, the way every bit of light overwhelms him, all the sounds of people shouting and laughing and talking and not being like him makes it build and build until there’s nowhere else for it to go.

There are dark places, quiet places, but he can’t be in them all the time, and the cold light inside of Chris needs somewhere to go.

“Al, already did,” He finally says, with a slight smile. “That’s why the, the the-the bandage, right?” They don’t return the expression, only shake their head, a bit of thick wavy black hair falling over one of their eyes, and rub at his shoulders and arms through the blanket.

He reaches up, lets his fingers run over the short undercut they wear along the side of their head, the way it feels soft like fur under his fingertips, rougher when he runs back the wrong way. He hums, and Laken only watches him, worry in their eyes. It’s familiar, reminds him of someone, but he can’t think of who.

Baby, you’ll get a concussion that way, we have to redirect, okay?

Who told him that? Who taught him to redirect? Do they know he keeps forgetting and has to learn it all over again? Would they be disappointed in them, if they knew?

Something tells him it doesn’t work that way, not with the shadowy memory-voice he hears sometimes, whoever it was had the brush of hair over his cheek, whoever held him when he couldn’t stop screaming.

“You’re past the drop date for this class,” Jake says heavily. He’s sitting on the couch, leaning over the paperwork Chris brought back from his meeting with the grad student and the professor officially overseeing the class. The grad student’s written summary doesn’t match what Chris said, but even more than that, it doesn’t match Chris. Chris doesn’t have violent outbursts, and he certainly doesn’t have violent outbursts without provocation. Chris isn’t someone who starts yelling over nothing, he’s just… not the person they’re saying he is, at all. It’s a piece of creative writing masquerading as an incident report. “If you drop now, you fail, full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, your GPA will take a hit-”

“I don’t, don’t, don’t-don’t-don’t care.” Chris shakes his head, just to feel his hair move against his skin. “I… I have to, to drop, anyway. He… he said, he, um-”

“What?” Laken leans forward, until their forehead just touches Chris’s, careful to avoid the injured spot, the sensitive bruised skin under the adhesive pull of the bandage. “What did he say, Chris?”

“I said us,” Chris whispers. “When I talked about, about… pets. Instead of them. He knows.”

There’s a silence that draws out, in the living room. The sound of Jake shuffling papers around, and of Laken’s calm, steady breathing. “There’s nothing in here about that,” Jake says in a low voice. “I didn’t see-... I’ve read this stupid fucking essay that asshole wrote like three times-”

“He didn’t write it, it down.” Chris tightens his grip around Laken’s fingers, but his own aren’t warming up to match theirs. “He told me after the, the professor left that he heard it. Which means-”

“He could report you.” Jake sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Chris feels suddenly very, very small. “Per-fucking-fect. Did he say what he intends to do with this information?”

Chris swallows. “Nothing.”

Laken and Jake exchange a look that Chris can’t read, he’s not good at reading the looks where people have whole conversations without actually saying anything. He looks up between them, one to the other, wondering what they are saying about him without speaking.

“So… if he’s not going to do anything-”

“He won’t say anything to, to, to anyone,” Chris says, softly, “as long as… as I drop the class.”

There’s a beat of quiet again, and another conversation held in silence that Chris can’t follow, only feel its weight, and then Jake clears his throat. “Chris, did he really-”

“Yeah. He really.” Chris shakes his head, pulling away from Laken’s grip, sitting back in the armchair. His right hand traces over the sleeve of his compression shirt on his left, and he taps against the back of his hand. He has no tears left. “He doesn’t want to… to get charged with, with corrupting influence if, if, if-if I get picked up. He said he, he doesn’t… doesn’t want to, to, to-to teach… pets.”

“This is bullshit,” Laken says again. “You’re not a fucking pet anymore. They can’t-”

“Take the fail,” Jake interrupts, and Laken spins in their chair to look at him, but Jake is staring down at the papers. “It’s fine. You can take an extra class later to fix a little of what it’s going to do to your grades. Just take the fail.”

“Jake, you’re not fucking serious-”

“Yeah, Laken, I am.” Jake’s anger is usually worn openly, but now it’s tightly coiled inside of him. Chris can feel it underneath the air in the room. Once upon a time, every hint of safety he could hope for was based on how well he could read the anger in the handlers or his Sir before it came down on his head. Most of it is gone, but… but in these moments, his skin prickles, the hair on the back of his neck wants to stand up.

Danger. Run. Danger. Hide. Danger. Be still. Danger. Be good.

“This asshole can’t force Chris to-”

“That asshole can call Chris in, report him, report us. They charge people like me, and they charge people who know and don’t report, like him. I get it. I get it, but I fucking hate it.” Jake sits very still, and then he’s up and off the couch and Chris flinches instinctively back as Jake balls up the paper with the grad student’s report on it and throws it violently at the wall. “Fuck!”

The little ball of paper bounces harmlessly off and hits the floor.

“That is singularly un-fucking-satisfying,” Jake says, staring at it. Laken and Chris only stare at him, Laken with the same anger in their eyes that Jake feels, and Chris with an old, barely-concealed fear.

There’s a beat of silence before Jake speaks again. His voice is back to calm, but there’s an edge to it that gives him away, no matter how even-keeled he is trying to keep himself.

“If those are his terms, we take it. We can’t risk safety to prove a point, to be right. Understand? It… it sucks, and I’d give my right fucking arm for ten minutes alone with that dick with no consequences, but… but this is still an out. He’s still giving us a way he won’t report. If he’s giving me a way to keep Chris and my rescues safe, I have to take it.”

“But… that’s-”

“Bullshit?” Jake twists a wry smile. “You bet your ass it is. But that’s-... that’s lib life, isn’t it? Just wading through waist-deep bullshit trying to give people the life they deserved after their real lives were fucking stolen, and the whole time I’m building up the fucking fort, these assholes - from dickbrain grad students right up to the goddamn Senate - are taking bricks out from the bottom hoping it’ll collapse and I can’t-... I can’t risk it, just to fight this, Laken. I have to think about everyone, not just Chris, but also… I have to think about Chris. Winning this battle could cost him. I want to - I want to fight this - but if we do…”

“That dumbass gets Chris in trouble,” Laken says, and groans. “Which means cops, and jail, and worse. Christ, Jake, do you think he just doesn’t want Chris in his class and this is a way to make it happen so nobody will fight it?”

Jake takes in a breath, lets it out. “Maybe. His worry could be legitimate, though.”

“Or he could just not want to face how fucked up this is,” Laken points out. “But he’s got us fucked both ways from Sunday for sure. We’re boxed in, no matter what we do.”

“Don’t say, say box,” Chris whispers, a shudder racing through him.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Jake paces, walking from one end of the living room to the other and back again. On TV, a cartoon about a spy is playing, but none of them is paying any attention to it. It’s just background noise to the conversation none of them wants to be having. “He could report Chris anyway, honestly. He doesn’t have to keep this promise. And if he does-”

“WRU will, will, will take me back,” Chris says, pulling his blanket as close as he can as though he could hide within it, and the tremble in his voice catches Laken and Jake’s attention again. The two turn to look at him, and Laken leans back forward, hands on either side of his face. Their hands, pale palms with warm brown skin, nails painted thick matte black, are warm and dry, and Chris lifts his own to cover them, closing his eyes.

“They won’t,” Laken says, with fierce and total conviction. “They won’t. Never, ever. Now that I know, I’d-... Chris, I’d never let them. I have… my family knows people, we could get you somewhere else.” They lean forward, and he feels the warmth of them just before their lips touch his, and he answers the kiss. The throb of fear and anger inside him fades, a little, under the strength of their need to be here for him, even when he is difficult, even when he can’t stop hurting himself, even when he says us instead of them.

“I can’t believe he would rather turn Chris in than teach him,” Laken says, after a second’s pause. “I thought-... you know, the grad students aren’t that much older than we are, and people don’t think about it the way they used to. I just… I just thought-”

“I know. I used to think that, too. But.” Jake sighs, and moves to pick up the little crumpled ball of paper. “Maybe lighting this on fire would make me feel better?”

“Doubt it.” Laken pulls Chris’s head against their shoulder, the denim of their black jean jacket scratchy but still soft with wear and age, and he hums, rocking into them lightly, as their arms slide up and around behind his neck to hold him. “You’re okay, Chris. One failed class is nothing. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure this out.”

“Maybe I should, should, should drop out. Give up on, um, on college.”

“Absolutely not,” Laken says, at the same time Jake says, “No fucking way.”

“You’ve worked too hard for this,” Jake says after a pause. “You spent years working to relearn how to read so you could start studying for your GED and get a good score, you were so excited for this. This is just one bump in the road, this isn’t a dead end, I swear. We’re not giving up, Chris.”

“But-”

“We’ll tell him you’ll drop the class. He’ll keep it quiet, and you can go right back to normal. Nobody has to know but us.” Laken’s voice is low, and Chris wants to trust them, wants to believe.

“We’ll figure it out. One failed class won’t wreck you, Chris.”

Jake sits on the arm of the chair Chris is in, and slides an arm around his shoulders behind him, over the blanket. Laken is warm in front of him and Jake is warm beside him, and Chris hums again, but lower-pitched this time. The two of them are the soft, soothing darkness that holds back the white light.

“I just-” Chris lets the words die in his throat, and taps on his own stomach while Laken and Jake hold him, tears hot behind his eyelids that he refuses to let escape. He’s so tired of crying, he’s so tired of it being hard, he’s so tired of something unsettling his world every time he thinks there won’t be any more earthquakes.

Brick by brick, Chris is building a life - and the time he spent on his knees and on his back comes back to haunt him, whenever he lets himself relax. Whenever he feels safe. Whenever he thinks it won’t haunt him any longer.

“We’re not giving up on you,” Laken murmurs. “Don’t you give up now, either.”

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth, @cubeswhump

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