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wickedscribbles · 3 years

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Come What May, Chapter Four

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry.

Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet

Word Count: 6.9 K

It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.

You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.

Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.

Pity you I do.

Very funny, petal.

Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.

In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.

-----

It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.

The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.

With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.

Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.

"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.

"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"

His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.

"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.

"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"

"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"

He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”

You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.

You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”

-----

Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.

“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”

Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.

“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”

You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.

“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”

“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.

Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”

“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.

Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.

Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.

“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.

CW starts here!

You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.

What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.

Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.

Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --

Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.

I can’t.

Why not?

You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.

When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.

CW ends here!

Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.

Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.

Yeah.

I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?

Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.

“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”

“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.

Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.

Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.

“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.

Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.

“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”

Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.

“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.

“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”

As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.

The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”

A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.

“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”

Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.

“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.

“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.

“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”

He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”

Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.

“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”

After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.

“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.

“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.

Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.

“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.

“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”

Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”

Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.

Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.

“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”

------

Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.

I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?

Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.

You were right. I like this.

And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.

Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.

“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”

The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.

Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.

I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.

Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.

You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.

“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.

“Form five -- she told me.”

“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”

“Shhh!”

Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.

“Ready as I can be, Master.”

“Then let’s begin.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.

He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.

Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.

There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.

The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.

When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.

“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.

The room erupts.

“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”

“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”

“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”

“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.

“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.

That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?

Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.

“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”

“Like the Force willed it.”

He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”

You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”

All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”

No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.

He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.

“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.

Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”

You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.

“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”

His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.

“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”

This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.

“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.

He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”

“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.

That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.

You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.

"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"

“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.

“Can you blame me?” you blurt.

"And what does that mean, dearest?"

He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.

Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”

You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.

Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.

Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.

"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.

"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.

"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."

"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.

"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."

For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.

There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.

"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"

You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.

"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.

Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”

You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.

“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --

He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.

"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.

"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.

“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.

“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.

"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."

"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.

"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."

You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"

"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"

"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"

You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.

"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.

And he doesn't either.

Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.

"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.

"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.

"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"

You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.

"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.

Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.

"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"

The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.

"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.

Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there

I know, and I'm -- me too --

Again?

Yes

Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --

You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.

When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.

"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.

"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.

You laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.

You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.

Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.

"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.

"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"

He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.

"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."

His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.

You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.

Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.

"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"

You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan smut #ziva courtee #obi wan x you #obi-wan series #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #obi-wan x oc

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locksleyposting · 3 years

Text

Perspective (B1 C4)

Synopsis: Wolfe Locksley starts her school in Hogwarts. What awaits her inside the castle’s walls isn’t what she expects her first year to turn out out as.

A/N: So I’m back... sort of... maybe, I just felt like uploading the chapter I’ve drafted for months now so here you go. Sorry for the wait if anyone did at least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer vacation passed by the Locksley household rather quickly and during that time, they spent relishing each other’s company before Wolfe’s first year at Hogwarts. The time spent was not wasted however, it was spent on muggle movie nights to training Faron, which was not that hard. Wolfe felt the best knowing that her first year won’t be a total wreck, maybe.

The morning of Wolfe’s first day, she woke up to light hitting her eyes, checked the time, it being “6:05 am”, and got up with a spring in her step from her excitement. She took a nice bath, put on a loose shirt, flannel and jeans, and went down for breakfast.

As usual, her parents were already down and she greeted them both with a peck on their cheeks. Her breakfast, being her favorite, was already set on the table as she sat down, and she then started eating.

“We’ll start heading to the platform at around...” said Mr. Locksley, looking at the wall clock. “...8:30 so that we’ll avoid the traffic.” Wolfe nods while chewing on her piece of bread then the three of them ate in happy chatter. Afterwards, Wolfe double checked on her things, just in case she forgot something, and headed down again with her trunks.

Leaving the trunks by the couch, Wolfe went to Faron, who was cuddled up to Jules, and softly cooed at the sight. She slowly walked closer to the pair again.

“Faron, you need to get up,” said Wolfe softly to the sleeping bird.

The said bird started to stir and he stretched his wings out as he woke up. Faron looked around and saw Wolfe, he then nipped on her hair affectionately.

“Morning to you too, love. You can have your breakfast first before I can place you in your cage, Dad said we’re leaving in about 2 hours,” said Wolfe as she petted Faron.

Faron nodded, as if understanding her, and flew to his feeder. Wolfe went to the kitchen after that to help her mother so she can kill time wisely.

~~~~~

As the clock hit 8:28, the Locksleys had already put Wolfe’s trunk in the boot of the car and started the ride to King’s Cross station. On the way there, Wolfe was bouncing her leg in excitement and nervousness.

“You okay there, sport?” asked Mr. Locksley, taking notice of his daughter’s nervousness through the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, just excited is all,” said Wolfe back, smiling widely.

Mrs. Locksley chuckles, “You’ll be fine, I know it.”

“Thanks Mum, I’ll do my best when I’m there,” said Wolfe.

“I know you will, hun.” said Mrs. Locksley, giggling.

Mr. Locksley smiled at the interaction between his wife and daughter and soon after that, the conversation went from what Wolfe’s expectation were of her school year to Mr. Locksley’s experience in Hogwarts for the rest of the car ride. The traffic was fairly decent that day so when they arrived, it was 10:23 and this made Wolfe very nervous from the thought of being late. Her parents reassured her that they were just in time before the train actually left.

In the train station, the Locksleys went to the very familiar pillar in between platforms nine and ten. Wolfe already knew what to do, from watching the older Weasleys before, but was slightly intimidated from it being her first time going through as a student. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at her father.

“Together now, love,” said Mr. Locksley, telling both his daughter and wife.

“Together,” responded Mrs. Locksley then all three held unto the cart and rushed into the wall, Wolfe closing her eyes in slight fear.

Once she opens her eyes again from slowing down, she sees the familiar sign of “Platform 9 3/4″ then families loading their belongings into the also familiar train within the platform.

“Let’s look for Ginny and the others, Mum, Dad!” said Wolfe, trying to look above the crowd of people, trying to spot the familiar redheads.

Swerving through the crowd, excusing herself to each individual, she thought that she would have seen the massive family by now. Then at 10:50, the conductor shouted, “All aboard!”, then the crowd started to disperse. Children going into the train, parents saying their goodbyes to them, Wolfe started to panic a bit.

Mrs. Locksley noticing this, stopped Wolfe gently by the shoulder. “It’s alright, Wolfe. It might be that they’re just late,” reassured Mrs. Locksley.

“But we said that we’ll meet here today. Who am I supposed to sit with in the train now?” said Wolfe sadly and nervously.

“You can meet new friend here, it’s not that bad,” said Mr. Locksley, patting Wolfe’s head in comfort.

“Easy for you to say, you can easily approach people...” mumbled Wolfe.

“I know, sport, but can you do this on your own? For us?” replied Mr. Locksley, looking at Mrs. Locksley then smiling softly at Wolfe.

Seeing this, Wolfe smiled a small smile and nodded meekly.

“That’s the spirit,” said Mr. Locksley, pecking his daughter on the forehead. “Now go on then, sport, you might not have any seats left for yourself.”

Wolfe nods and pecks both of her parents goodbye and waves to them as she goes unto the train.

“Make sure to write to us!” shouted Mrs. Locksley.

“I will!” shouted Wolfe back.

Wolfe looks back, waving at her parents one last time before boarding the train. Dragging her things, she continuously looked right for any empty compartments while also trying not to make eye contact with anyone inside. Fortunately, she was able to find one as soon as the train started.

Entering the compartment, she started lifting her belongings to the shelves above. Unfortunately, one of her trunks fell off as the train shook rather harshly but was caught by a passerby.

“Oops, be careful there,” said the stranger to Wolfe.

“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to trouble you,” said Wolfe back, taking the trunk and putting it up properly.

“It’s not a problem, we were just looking for a place to sit,”

“We?” asked Wolfe.

“Yeah, me, my brother and sister, mind if we sit here?” said the stranger, pointing at two others.

“There’s no problem to that, I could use a bit of company,” said Wolfe.

The three siblings starting piling in with their belongings, this was also the time when Wolfe took their appearances while she helped them.

The one who saved her bag was the tallest among the three, dirty blonde hair and sported, from what Wolfe knew, the Gryffindor colors. The brother was most likely the middle child, being the second tallest. He had dark brown hair and was sporting the Ravenclaw colors. The sister was the shortest, noting that she was almost as tall as her. She had brown hair and also sported Gryffindor colors. All three had a nice set of green eyes each.

Once everyone settled down, an awkward silence followed with it. Luckily, the eldest started the introductions to lessen the awkwardness.

“Sorry for not introducing ourselves, I’m Dean Winchester,” said the stranger, now known as Dean. “and these are my siblings, Sam and Rey.”

The younger siblings nod and wave respectively.

“I’m Wolfe Locksley, pleasure to meet you!”

“Wolfe? As in the wild dog?” asked Rey.

“Yup, that with an ‘e’ in the end,”

Rey nods then Sam speaks up.

“Interesting name you got there but, is that your actually name?”

“No, it’s a nickname to me. My actual name is Akito Adolfo.”

“Now I get it! Unique name, very unique,” snapped Sam happily.

Rey and Dean look at him in amusement then the latter looks back at Wolfe.

“Anyways, is this your first year at Hogwarts, Wolfe?” said Dean.

“Yup! I’ve been waiting for this practically my whole life!” said Wolfe enthusiastically but quickly became nervous. “But what if I mess up?”

Dean chuckles, “Well, if it makes you feel better, it’s Rey’s second year at Hogwarts and she got lost a couple of times last year.”

“The castle is big, okay?” said Rey, pouting at Dean but turns to Wolfe soon after.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Anyways, what house do you think you’re going in?”

“Well, I was thinking Gryffindor since my Dad was in it but who knows for sure?” said Wolfe, shrugging.

“Well, that’s alright. Sometimes you get what you least expect, just don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll be sorted into an amazing house,” said Rey, smiling.

Wolfe begins to ponder and turns sullen, asking shyly, “Will you guys still be okay with me if I’m sorted into Slytherin...?”

The Winchesters turn silent. Wolfe feels her stomach drop sadly then she started fidgeting with the cushions nervously. She knows the reputation of the Slytherins to be bad but, she didn’t expect it to be that bad.

“Of course we will! You seem to be a nice person and I don’t think you’ll turn out like those pompous snakes,” said Dean, ruffling Wolfe’s hair in comfort. “We’ll make sure of it, right guys?”

Both Sam and Rey nod at her, the latter smiling softly.

Wolfe stares in awe and relief. She didn't expect that type of answer from a person she just met a few moment ago but she was grateful nonetheless.

“Thanks, Dean. You don’t know how much that makes me feel better for myself,” said Wolfe.

“You’re very welcome,” said Dean, flashing a soft toothy smile.

For the next couple of hours, Wolfe and the Winchesters continue to talk, their topics range from past experiences the Winchesters had during their stay in Hogwarts and slight comfort for Wolfe, who suddenly felt the nervousness come back once she realized that she could mess up anytime during her stay.

Soon the train halted to a stop. Wolfe, now wearing her school robes, started walking out with the Winchesters and also hoping to see Ginny once she goes down. Once down the train, she hears a vaguely familiar voice calling, “Come now, first years! Don’t be shy-!”

Wolfe turns to the Winchesters and says, “I guess I have to go...since I’m a first year, is all...”

“Don’t worry, we’ll see each other in a bit,” said Dean.

“Good luck, Wolfe,” said Rey, waving as she and her brothers went into another direction.

“Have fun!” shouted Sam.

Wolfe waves back before turning to the first years gathered in front of a giant, which she recognized as Hagrid from the Flourish and Blotts incident. She also spots a certain redhead a few paces up front and scurries to meet her, excusing herself to any of the other first years.

“Ginny!” whisper-shouted Wolfe, grasping the said girl’s shoulders once she arrives behind her.

“Wolfe! Where have you been? We were looking all over for you in the train, said Ginny.

“Where have I been? Where were you a while ago? I was there 30 minutes before the train departed,” said Wolfe.

Before Ginny could reply, Hagrid spoke loudly but gently.

“Well first years, bet yer excited to see the school, ey? So step right up and follow me!”

With his lamp, he guided the first years to a dock of some sort. It had a few dozen boats docked in it.

“Three students per boat. Careful and watch yer step,” said Hagrid.

Wolfe and Ginny immediately went on one of the boats while the vacant seat of it was taken by a blonde girl, who seemed to be in her own little world at the moment.

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, looked at the students to double check. “Right then! FORWARD!”

The fleet of boats moved along the lake silently, following Hagrid, and soon the dark waters were lit up by a light source up ahead. In front of them was the magnificent sight of the Hogwarts castle in all its glory. Wolfe was stunned speechless and she couldn’t stop looking at it, her father told stories to her about how the school looked but nothing could have prepared her for the actual sight of it.

“Head down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff. They all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out unto rocks and pebbles.

“I’m guessing ye all enjoyed that” chuckled Hagrid, checking on the boats as the students climbed out of them. “Come on then, that’s just the beginning of it.”

Once everyone was out, they walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around a huge, oak front door.

“Everyone here?” said Hagrid, double checking. He nods and faces the castle doors, raises his gigantic fist, and knocks on it three times.

The door swings open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face that made Wolfe cower a bit, making her scoot a bit more to Ginny.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,”

She then pulled the entrance wide. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to reach, and a marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. The sights awed Wolfe as more were seen.

They followed Professor McGonagall across flagged stone floors, Ginny and Wolfe murmured their amazement to each other. Soon they reached a doorway, Wolfe could hear a drone of hundred of voices from the other side. Professor McGonagallled the first years into a small, empty chamber away from the hall while the students crowded in, standing closer together the they would usually have done.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have your house dormitory, and will spend free time in your house common room.”

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards alike. While you are in Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points while any rule breaking will make you lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be at your best to whichever house you enter in.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest fixing yourselves as much as you can while waiting.”

She scans the bunch, stopping at particular students Wolfe doesn’t, obviously, recognize. Ginny starts brushing down her hair from the professor’s statement and Wolfe reassures her in whisper that she looks fine.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait here quietly.”

Wolfe breathes out air she didn’t know she was holding in and turns to Ginny, noticing her still fidgeting with her hair and robes, “Gin, you’re fine. Your robes are the same as everyone else in the room and your hair is as flawless as ever. What’s with the fixing?”

“I’m just nervous...all the “what ifs” are going through me and I want to make a good first impression...”

“You’re going to be fine, Gin. I bet everyone here is having the same thoughts as you are. I am to be honest,” said Wolfe, holding Ginny by her shoulders. “The main difference is that you can step up from this and do your best, and besides I’ll be here with you so don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Thanks, Wolfe. Really. I don’t know what I’ll do without you right now,” said Ginny, ceasing her fidgeting and smiling softly back at Wolfe.

“I do my best for the both of us so don’t mention it,” chuckled Wolfe, grinning even.

Wolfe removes her hands from Ginny’s shoulders then suddenly feels a presence watching her. She looks around, finding no one remotely looking at her direction.

Ginny noticing her friend’s odd behavior, she asks, “You okay, Wolfe?”

“Yeah, I just had a sneaking suspicion that someone’s watching me...” said Wolfe, eyes squinted while still panning around the room for any onlookers.

Ginny looks around, also finding no one staring. “Guess you were just imagining things?”

“Yeah, I guess...” said Wolfe, shrugging it off but keeping her guard up for anything.

Soon after that, the entrance to the chamber revealed that Professor McGonagall had returned. “Come now, form a line. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.”

The students immediately lined up behind the professor and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Once again, Wolfe was awed to silence. The hall was huge, lit up by thousands of candles floating midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were already sitting. There were translucent figures floating near them, which confused and made her curious on what they were. The ceiling looked like it was the night sky outside, as if there wasn’t a ceiling at all. Up front was a long table where the teachers sat. Wolfe’s father told stories about all this but it did not do justice to the actual thing.

Professor McGonagall led the students to the front of the hall, where she placed a four-legged stool and a pointed wizard’s hat on top of it. It looked like it had better days with the patches and dirt on it.

Everything turned silent, Wolfe noticed that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat so she too stared, if in case something happened. A few moments passed, there was silence. Suddenly, the hat twitched, a rip near the base opened like a mouth then the hat started to sing; (credits to Redditor Governor_Humphries)

For centuries and ages back As far as I remember I’m brought out on a stool each year The first night of September The first years put me on their head I say where they belong But first you must indulge me in Expository song

The song, you see is more than just A stodgy old tradition It also helps me better to Fulfill my steadfast mission. I primarily sort first years, but I also feel the need To help out the entire school So older ones take heed!

I try, each year to clarify Enlighten and alert you To each house’s history And character and virtue See, views about the Houses Four Are oftentimes distorted So here I am, the Sorting Hat And I will get you sorted!

From those who are in one’s own house Your sisters and brothers You take a bright view of yourselves A dim one then of others But I have seen in ALL your heads And so am qualified to Say where you’ve got your houses right And where you have been lied to

For Ravenclaw, the story goes It’s brains and nothing more For Gryffindor, it’s dash and verve With sense thrown out the door For Slytherin, I’ve heard it said What matters most is blood And Hufflepuff, it seems that oft Their very name is mud

Admittedly, each point contains A kernel of some truth But mostly malice, ignorance And bigotry and ruth These misconceptions harm us all So I’ll explain to you Step-by-step just how I go On sorting like I do

The FIRST thing that I look into Is not your brains or heart Nor blood, nor skin, nor big left toe No, that’s not where I start What strikes me first is not your deepest Innermost desire Nor skills, nor your abilities --It’s whom you most admire.

Houses, you see, are here for you To find your motivation They’re not to dwell on who you are But aid in aspiration So treasure wit, or verve, or sweat Or wielding pow’r effectively? Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff And Slytherin, respectively

Treasure wit, but have wit now? It’s Ravenclaw, despite it For all have wit in some small form So best to go ignite it For in emulating those Whose qualities you dream of You grow to be a you your friends May grow to have esteem of

The SECOND thing I look into Is still not heart or brains Though all those things come into play A central fact remains: At eleven, oftentimes Such things have not developed They’ll grow accordingly to the house In which they enveloped.

For instance, take a child who May right now be a coward But put her into Gryffindor And she’ll become empowered Or take a child who’s early on Behind in all his studies In Ravenclaw, he’ll study hard To keep up with his buddies

A lazy child in Slytherin May learn to be ambitious A friendless child may find the warmth Of Hufflepuff propitious I put very little stock into Eleven-year-old deeds It’s not the house the child best fits --It’s which the child most needs.

From there I must admit that it’s Less science and more art And everything from favorite food To shoe size plays a part But here the school doth ever hear A house called in my voice I always give the boy or girl, if they desire --A choice.

And thus, I say, as Sorting Hat I’ve never yet been wrong For it’s you, oh so much more than me Who say where you belong I’m here to help, to prod, to poke To nudge you if it’s needed And if you’re happy with my choice I’ll know that I’ve succeeded

But that is not so hard a thing For this is the reality: The house in which I place a child Is not that child’s totality For many, most, or all of you Though you love your house best You would have found an equal love In any of the rest.

The other houses’ flaws you see Are mirrored in your own And virtues that your own house has The others all have known Divided houses hurts the school So let me be emphatic: The differences between you are Just idiosyncratic.

Badger, lion, eagle, snake Red or yellow, green or blue, None of these are vital to What makes you really you The sorting will start very soon But I want this understood: Though I quarter students every year, You should not think it’s good.

That’s not to say that sorting’s bad (I’d quit if that was so) But there’s more, much more to Hogwarts than The House to which you go But that’s enough from me just now My warning’s been imparted There’s first years who need sorting out Let’s get the sorting started!

Once the song ended, the hall burst into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables before turning immobile again.

Wolfe felt Ginny press herself unto her and she responded by wrapping an arm around her and rubbed her arm in comfort. She knew Ginny was just having her first day jitters, Wolfe had it too but she concealed it better than her friend. Unfortunately, her facade almost crumbled once she heard what Professor McGonagall said.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”

Professor McGonagall pulls open the parchment paper she was holding and started to read out loud, “Creevey, Colin!”

A mousy-haired boy walked over to the stool in mild haste. The hat was placed over him and a few moments of silence passed by before --

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. The table in the far left exploded in cheer as some stood up to greet their new housemate.

Wolfe’s thoughts started to run wild, “What if the hat rejects me and I’ll be embarrassed?”

“Harper-!”

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat. Another table, one that was in the far right, cheered for him as he hastily went to it.

“What if I really am a Slytherin and people won’t like me anymore...?”

“Kirchner, Leo!”

“SLYTHERIN!” said the hat as another student goes to the table at the very right.

“What if...?”

“Locksley, Adolfo!”

Wolfe gasps quietly as her name is called. Ginny nudges her tightly to get her attention, and it does. Wolfe then proceeds hastily to the stool.

Once the hat was on her head, she feels it slowly slipping down her forehead, revealing that it was a wee bit big for her. She nervously giggles but lets it slide, her focus should be on the sorting.

“Another Locksley, hmm?” said a small voice. “Your family is a wild card, indeed they are. You have your father’s bravery but you also have intelligence, your grandmother has that too. You also have loyalty, something common amongst you Locksleys. Cunning isn’t your strong suit, unfortunately...”

“I would place you in Slytherin, it could help with your lack of ambition.”

Wolfe fidgets and meekly replies to the small voice, “Can I be sorted into a different house...?”

“A different house, you say? And what house do you suggest, young Locksley?” replied the small voice.

That moment Wolfe began to think, she wasn’t one for decision-making but her answer will affect her stay in Hogwarts, for better or worst. She then decided on it and answered the small voice mentally.

“If you are very sure then so be it...” said the small voice.

“Here we go...” said Wolfe to herself.

“...HUFFLEPUFF!” said the hat then the table to the right exploded in cheer.

Wolfe sighs and smiles in relief before rushing over to the table, She sits a little bit ways from the main group of Hufflepuffs from being shy until a stout-looking boy with blonde hair beckoned her over to them. She shyly scoots over to the group and stays silent, the blonde girl with pigtails of the group speaks up.

“Hey...uhm...Adolfo, is it? Welcome to Hufflepuff.”

Others join her in greeting.

“Yeah, welcome to Hufflepuff house.”

“Welcome Adolfo!”

“Nice to see a new face --ack --!”

Wolfe looks up a bit and notices the one who beckoned her over slumped up, clutching his stomach. The guy beside him glaring daggers at him.

“If you say it like that, it’ll sound weird.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Boys, don’t overwhelm her,” said the blonde girl.

Wolfe smiles, “Thanks for welcoming me, I was a bit nervous of meeting my housemates. Thought they might make fun of me or something.”

“Why’s that?” said the boy with dark hair of the group.

“Oh ummm... nothing...” said Wolfe suddenly.

“You can tell us, Adolfo,” said the dark-haired boy.

“Don’t pry at her about it, it wasn’t brought up so it’s not needed,” said the hazel-haired girl.

“And besides, we haven’t introduced each other,” said the blond girl. “I’m Hannah Abbot.”

“I’m Susan Bones,” said the hazel-haired girl.

“I’m Justin Finch-Fletchley and this blabbering imbecile is our friend Ernie Macmillian,” said the dark-haired boy.

“Hey! I’m not an imbecile!” retorted the blonde, now known to her as Ernie.

Wolfe giggles lightly, “Nice to meet you all.”

Susan nods, “Likewise.”

“Nice to meet you too, Adolfo. You’re gonna fit in nicely in Hufflepuff house,” said Ernie.

Justin tries not to facepalm at Ernie’s statement, Susan and Wolfe giggle and Hannah chuckles, feeling second-hand embarrassment running through her.

“Thank you for letting me feel welcome... you didn’t have to but you still did,” said Wolfe, smiling softly at them.

Before anyone of the group says anything back at her, the sorting ended and a man, whom Wolfe recognizes as Albus Dumbledore, stands up beaming at the students. The hall grows silent while the headmaster starts by saying;

“Welcome, welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts! It is an absolute joy to see you all for another year but since I know you all want to start the banquet so...”

With two claps from his hands, food suddenly appeared in front of them all. There were piles of roast chicken, beef, lamb chops and steak to peas, carrots, and corn all throughout the long table. Wolfe immediately nabbed some of the one she like the most near her then chatter between everyone started and Wolfe happily joined in.

Midway in eating, Wolfe suddenly felt the same feeling of staring from a while ago. She slowly turns to find one of the first year Slytherins staring at her, who suddenly blushed but didn’t turn away. Wolfe smiles softly and raised her hand then waved at him, who in turn smiled and waved back.

Suddenly she saw someone all too familiar to her, Draco Malfoy sat right beside the first year and whispered something in his ear. The first year lowered his hand and continued eating, looking more timid than before, but Malfoy looked directly at her and sneered. Wolfe sneered back at him, remembering what happened in the Flourish and Blotts, then returned to eating. She had a feeling that that was not the end of the young Malfoy and her meeting as well as the mysterious first year beside him.

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A/N: I like to thank @drew-winchester (the Winchester family) and @thelocksmith (Leo Kirchner) for letting me add their ocs into my fanfic.

Once again, thank you for reading this! Hopefully you didn’t mind the long chapter and the long wait, hope to see you next time. Take care!

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holdin-out-for-a-hero · 3 years

Text

Creep- FFVII Biggs X Reader Ch.13/?

A/n: Sorry it’s late again. I feel like a broken record saying there will be weekly updates and not delivering. Not gonna lie, I’ve been going through it™️ this year, but this series has been my escape. Thanks for the patience

You figured you would find her here, but the sight still made your breath catch in your throat. She rarely let her guard down like this. She often put on an act, always there to help others with their problems but never sharing her own. Seeing her this vulnerable meant something was really wrong- and of course it was. Cloud was an old friend. The only piece left of a burned-down hometown. And now he was gone.

Her shoulders shook slightly, you noticed. She must've been crying, which made your job much harder. You had came in to tell her the carriage was waiting, but it seemed like the carriage would have to wait a little longer. It felt wrong to delay or pause Tifa's grieving process just to help you get your ass out of trouble, but she did volunteer and no matter how hard you tried to talk her out of it, she always stood her ground.

You took a quiet step closer, and then another, and another, until you were just a foot away from her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, you smoothed a piece of her hair behind her back. She jumped the slightest bit, but didn't turn. She knew she had been caught; there was no use in hiding it.

"The carriage is here," you said. You hoped it didn't come off as insensitive, but there really was no time. Her eyes traced the sheets a moment more.

"I think I messed up my makeup," Tifa whispered, ashamed. She turned to you but didn't make eye contact, instead focusing on your necklace. Her eyes were red and watery, and just like she said, there was a small trail of black under each eye.

"I can fix it," you reassured, "But are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to."

She finally looked into your eyes, wiping her tears away and plastering on a smile.

"You can't talk me out of this."

You led her to the bathroom, taking some tissue and cleaning up the black smudges from under her eyes. Thank God she wasn't wearing foundation or else the whole thing would've been ruined.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think I was gonna cry..." she said, "I shouldn't have come in here in the first place. It was a bad call..."

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Tifa. It hasn't even been a day since it happ-" you stopped yourself. It was best not to remind her.

She didn't reply. Instead, she seemed to get stuck in her own head, torturing herself with memories new and old.

"Tifa," you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She stayed in her trance a moment more.

"Huh?" She finally turned to look at you.

"Don't do that to yourself."

"...You're right."

She looked herself over in the mirror, examining her eyes to see if you had fixed the smudged mascara. To her relief, the makeup left no remnants; it looked as though it had never been messed up. The redness had started to fade away, but whether or not anyone would notice was another issue. There was no time for it anyway.

"Are you two ready?" A muffled voice asked from behind the door. It was Biggs.

"Almost done!" You replied. Then you looked back at Tifa, silently waiting for her confirmation.

She let out a held breath, "let's go."

You opened the door of the apartment, meeting eyes with the three people standing just outside it. Jessie stood to the far left, leaning on to the railing with her side to help support her weight: her leg was still hurting her a little, so it was best to stay off of it. Biggs was in the middle, his back against the railing and his arms crossed over his chest. And Wedge stood to the right of him, awkwardly looking between the four of you. After what he had just seen a few minutes ago, you couldn't blame him.

Wedge must've kept his mouth shut, because Jessie wasn't pestering you or Biggs. You'd have to thank him later. Speaking of Biggs, he was playing it off as well. Nothing in his demeanor was different than usual. From Jessie's perspective, nothing had happened between you.

"Oooh~ you two sure clean up nice!" Jessie said, "I really am the ugly one in our friend group."

You rolled your eyes. The nerve of her to call herself ugly...

"Chocobo's waiting just around the corner," Biggs said, "Can't keep 'em waiting."

Tifa led the way, speed-walking down the steps with relative ease in order to avoid any questioning about her red eyes. You were about to catch up with her when Jessie spoke up from behind you.

"Damn, Y/N, I really think you should keep that dress! It really accentuates your best features."

And then she slapped your ass.

"Jessie!" You yelped, turning around to glare at her.

"Just saying..." she smirked, passing you and walking down the stairs. You stood frozen as you watched her walk away. The nerve of that girl...

Another body took her place beside you, Biggs, and he seemed to wait for you to continue. You glanced over at him and noticed his hand was outstretched as if to help you down. A small smile formed on your lips when you took it.

"Thanks," you said, grabbing some of your dress with your other hand so you wouldn't trip on it. You took careful steps down the stairs; one bad move in your heels and you could faceplant, "I really can't stand her sometimes..."

"I know what you mean. She's a real character, that's for sure."

You both reached the bottom of the steps and you unclasped your hand from his, giving him a nod before catching up to Jessie and Tifa.

Just up ahead was the chocobo carriage and a stable hand checking his watch in annoyance. A look of relief washed across his face when he saw your group walking towards him.

"Hurry up! We ain't got all night." He said, ushering you, Tifa, and Jessie over. He must've remembered there were only supposed to be two girls going to to Corneo's, because his brows furrowed as he looked between the three of you.

"I'm assuming you're not coming with us," he said, looking Jessie up and down. While Jessie was naturally gorgeous, she really wasn't dressed the part, especially when put next to you and Tifa.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" She questioned. He only ignored her, instead looking behind at Biggs and Wedge. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Didn't know you two were having a farewell party. Make the final goodbyes quick, will ya? I've got a schedule to keep."

"Final?" Biggs questioned. The man didn't care to answer him either.

The stable hand turned around, muttering to himself in annoyance as he went to tend to the chocobo at the front of the carriage. It gave your group a small amount of privacy.

You said goodbye to Wedge first, pulling him into a tight hug. He was like a brother to you, and though you knew you would make it back to see him again, the thought of a 'final goodbye' shook you to your core. And though he never explicitly agreed, you could tell he felt it too.

Next was Jessie. She had just gotten done with wishing Tifa farewell and was waiting not-so-patiently for Wedge to get done. As soon as he walked away, Jessie tackled you with a surprise hug.

"Jessie!" You shouted.

"Sorry," she smiled, pulling away to stand in front of you. She took your hands in your own, her playful expression fading into something more serious, "Kick his ass. End his life. I don't care. Just makes sure this ends tonight, ok?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding your head. Hopefully you wouldn't have to end any lives tonight.

"And you better come back here in one piece so I can pick on you some more."

"Wouldn't want to take that away from you. Your purpose in life," you said, trying to lighten the mood.

"It sure as hell is."

She pulled you into another hug, a real one this time. Holding on tight, you prayed that this wouldn't be a final goodbye. Her hair still smelled of green apple. You were sure yours did too, since you used her conditioner last night. After all this was over, you'd have to buy a bottle yourself. After this was all over, you thought. That was the phrase getting you through it all.

Biggs stood just a few feet away, watching you and Jessie's goodbye. He had already said goodbye to Tifa and was waiting for his turn to get to you.

Jessie noticed his presence, and though she knew he wasn't trying to rush her, she got the hint. She took a step away and looked over at Biggs.

"I'll give you two your privacy," she said, walking back to Tifa and Wedge for a second goodbye.

Biggs took Jessie's spot in front of you. Something was different about this encounter with him than all the others, it was tense, awkward even. Well, that's what happens when you almost kiss a guy but get interrupted. Things get awkward.

But you could tell that wasn't what made him so uncomfortable. It was about the mission itself, something that you two had fought over many times. The tension was only grew as you stared into his eyes. It was becoming too much; you had to clear the air.

"Look, I know you're not happy that I'm doing this, but do you at least trust me?" You asked.

He hesitated, and as the moments passed your heart started to sink. Why couldn't he just trust you like everyone else? Did he not believe in your capabilities?

"...I do. I trust you." He finally said.

Relief hit you like a wave. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as a smile settled on your lips. You pulled him into a tight hug and he reciprocated with the same urgency. His hand ran over your hair, then cupping your head as he leaned in to whisper something.

"Like Jessie said, if you have to kill him, do it. You'll probably be helping out a lot of other women."

Your smile faded at the thought. You didn't want to kill him or anybody. Sure, you wanted to deck him right in that stupid smile of his, kick him in the balls so hard he wished he were dead, but you didn't want to kill him. Why did one asshole's life matter so much though? Your hands were already covered in blood: the blood of Shinra troops and the unfortunate casualties of the bombing mishap. Those were innocents, this man wasn't.

You shook the thoughts away; you didn't want to face that reality yet.

"So you were listening," you replied, and you felt his body stiffen under your fingers. He pulled away and you released your grip on his shirt.

"You caught me," he said, trying to play off his obvious embarrassment. There was another uncomfortable silence as you both separated; you shifted your weight from foot to foot as he rubbed the back of his neck. Wow, almost kissing someone really makes things tense.

"So I guess this is goodbye," he said.

"Yeah, I guess it is," you trailed off, another beat of silence, "but not a final goodbye."

"Yeah... no, not a final goodbye." The air was still thick, filled with the weight of all your feelings and confessions left unsaid.

You couldn't leave like this, not without him really knowing how you felt. But you couldn't just confess, not in front of everybody. You didn't think you had the balls for it either.

But a gut feeling told you that you had to do something. So, with all your built up courage, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek. And though it only lasted a moment, you had memorized the feeling of his stubble against your lips.

You turned away immediately so you wouldn't have to see his reaction, and luckily for you, the stable hand was walking towards the back do the carriage. He opened up the wooden gate, ushering you and Tifa in.

Picking up the invitation that was in your seat, you held it in your lap as you sat down. Tifa seemed to do the same, giving a last smile and wave to the group. Just a moment later, the stable hand took off.

————————

The gate of sector seven creaked open, revealing the mess that was sector 6. At least that's what you assumed, since you couldn't really see anything that wasn't directly behind the carriage. There was an old playground just outside the gate, you remembered. It was mostly untouched from the destruction of the sector 6 plate. Lots of children still sneak into the abandoned playground since it's so close.

Looking back at Tifa, she seemed distant, an empty look on her face. She was probably thinking about her friend, the mercenary. It was a shame what happened to him.

You placed a hand over her own and she looked came out of her daze, looking up at you. As soon as she did, your mouth went dry. There was nothing you felt like you could say to make her feel better, so you stayed silent instead.

"Tifa!" A voice called from outside the carriage. It sounded familiar. You and Tifa turned to the voice. A man was keeping up with the carriage. His spiky hair, his flourescent eyes, and that ridiculously large sword strapped to his back... it couldn't be...

"Cloud, Your alive! I thought we'd lost you!" Tifa said, crouching down on the floor of the carriage to speak to him better. Cloud jumped onto the back railing of the Carriage, holding onto the wooden bars as it continued through sector 6.

"What's going on?" He asked. Tifa shushed him.

"I'll explain everything later. But now, we're on our way to see Don Corneo. You should head back to Seventh Heaven, meet up with the gang."

"But-" Cloud started, but Tifa cut him off.

"We'll be fine!" She reassured, "you've seen how much ass we can kick."

Cloud looked between the two of you, creating a small dip in the conversation.

"I have..." he sighed, before jumping down from the carriage.

Watching his figure grow smaller in the distance, you let out a laugh of disbelief.

Tifa did the same, a massive weight taken off of her shoulders. She couldn't hide the smile blossoming on her face. Cloud, her childhood friend, was still alive.

————————

The two of you were dropped off at the door of a large, wutainese-style mansion. It was both gorgeous and disgustingly lavish; a real slap in the face to anyone in the slums. You knew this Corneo guy was a jerk, but you didn't realize the extent.

There was a shady aura to the mansion; something to be expected from a crimelord, but it still put you on edge. You could tell Tifa noticed too, as she grabbed onto your forearm. You looked down at the invitation in your hand, the ticket in. Then you looked back up at Tifa.

"You ready?" You asked her. She nodded, a soft hum escaping her lips as she did.

You both hesitantly opened the door, revealing a small hall and another ornate door with three men guarding it. Your heartbeat rose as you saw them, and you sighed in relief when you didn't recognize any of them. No creep yet.

You walked towards the man in the middle; a young, skinny guy with silver hair. Despite his age and stature, he carried a presence like he'd seen some real shit and was jaded by it all.

"Invitation?" He asked apathetically, and you gave yours to him. Tifa did the same, and he read the invitations, "Two from Sam, huh? That's unusual."

"Looks like he's tryna get on the Don's good side. I mean, look at 'em!" The guard on the right side said, gesturing to the both of you.

"He's gonna have a hard time picking, that's for sure," The other guard, a large, gruff man, said, "Hell, he might just pick both!"

"He'd better leave us some leftovers!"

What the hell did he mean leftovers? As much as you wanted to tell them off for objectifying you and Tifa, you held your tongue. A lack of discretion was what got you in trouble in the first place; you didn't want to screw up again.

The silver-haired man looked up from the invitations, taking a few steps forward and signaling to the two guards to open the fancy double doors.

"Your room is the third room up the stairs. Don't touch anything."

Taking a few apprehensive steps forward and into the main room, you noticed two more Corneo lackeys who stood in the very center of it. You didn't recognize either of them as the creep or any of his men, which was a relief. But you would have to face him sometime. That was the whole point of you coming here: to put an end to your torment, whatever means necessary.

The piles and piles of junk caught your eye. Valuables were scattered all around the room, from expensive furniture to bricks of gold. You remembered what you'd heard about this Corneo guy- a lot of people were in debt to him. So maybe all of this was his payment. The sight sickened you; no man should have this much.

"Hey! Keep your eyes to yourself. You know where to go." One of the men said. Tifa took your arm again, leading you up the stairs.

"It's disgusting," you whispered to her.

"I know," she agreed, "Corneo's a sick man."

"Damn!" One of the men shouted, "Take a look at that ass!"

"Yeah," the other man laughed, "Did you see the other girls' boobs?"

You stopped in your tracks on the staircase, considering whether or not to march back down and slap the shit out of them.

"Come on," Tifa whispered, tugging softly on your arm, "let's just go."

Thank God for Tifa, cause if she hadn't snapped you out of your trance, you might have just followed that urge and gotten yourself into more trouble.

You turned away from those gross men, attempting to tune them out. Following Tifa up the rest of the stairs, you remembered why you were here: to figure out what Corneo wanted with Barrett and to end your creep problem. It wasn't your job to teach these guys to respect women.

Tifa pushed open the third room's door and held it open for you. Stepping inside, you rolled your eyes. It was another room filled to the brim with junk. Corneo was disgusting.

"Seriously, who needs this much stuff?" you sighed.

"Apparently the Don of the slums," She replied, glancing around the room, "How much of this stuff do you think is rightfully his?"

Before you could reply, a click caught your attention. The sound came from the double doors behind you.

"Shit!" You hissed. Turning quick on your heels, you ran to the knob, trying to force the door open. Tifa joined you, having no luck either. She groaned as she struggled against the door.

A soft hissing sound began.

"Y/N!" She said, her eyes wide as she looked across the room. You followed her gaze and noticed a pink, opaque gas pouring out of the vents.

This was a mistake, this was a huge fucking mistake. You walked right into this trap. And you got Tifa into this mess. Tears were starting to prick at your eyes as you banged on the door. You couldn't tell if it was fear, guilt, or the gas. It was probably all three.

"Let us out!" Tifa shouted, to no avail. Nobody was gonna get you out; they planned this. The gas had filled the room now, and you were starting to get dizzy. You tried to cover your nose and but it was a futile effort. There was no way to avoid it. Backing away from the door, you couldn't believe what you had gotten yourself into, what you got Tifa into. You screwed up. You screwed up so bad.

Tifa lost her balance, dropping onto her hands and knees. You tried to help her, but you were so dizzy you had to kneel down onto the floor to keep from falling.

"Tifa!" You called, nearly choking on the gas. She didn't respond.

The doors bust open. And then there were figures and voices, fuzzy and distant. You could barely hear them because of the loud ringing in your ears. That awful ringing, and the splotches in your eyes. They were growing worse and worse, until they took over your eyesight; your consciousness slipped away with it.

#biggs x reader #biggs #ff7 biggs #ff7 remake #ffviir #ffvii #barrett wallace #tifa ff7 #Tifa lockhart #jessie rasberry #ff7 wedge

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years

Text

Fight or Flight, Rider [6]

Poe Dameron X Pilot!Reader

A/N: This took me too long to write, and it’s got the word count of Kylo Ren’s body count; so get ready for the long haul because I’ve got a bad feeling about this *evil laugh* - Nemo

Summary: (y/n) doesn’t seem to like to make things easy for herself. Her mouth might give her about as much grief as if does blessings.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[Gif was sourced on Pinterest. Credit to thee maker!]

“How does it feel?”

“The collar is too tight, and the fabric is itchy.” Rey tugged on the hem of the jacket, trying to make it less itchy, stepping back to observe how you looked.

“You’d ought to be thankful you’re not actually part of the First Order, and have to wear their uniform everyday.” she said, smiling at you as you moved over to the nearby mirror fragment. You mimicked her actions, tugging the jacket’s hem down, and then ran a finger around it’s collar.

“They’ll notice it’s not mine.”

“No they won't.” She came up behind you, placing her hands on your shoulders, and looking at your reflection over your shoulder. “They’ll be too stunned at the pretty new Officer to notice your pant legs at a centimeter too short.”

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow before shaking her off your shoulders.

“If they manage to see me at all.” you added, bumping Z2 lightly with your foot, before continuing, “Let’s just get this over with, huh?”

“Couldn't agree more Rider.”

__________

“- Any questions, Major?” Gareth said, stepping aside from the ship, after trying to explain whatever he thought was necessary to explain.

“Um, yes? Where on earth did you get a First Order ship from?” You were stuck between feelings of awe and confusion at the ship in front of you. How you’d never noticed it before - considering it was sleek and black and First Order all over - was beyond your thinking right now, all you did know was that you were going to be lucky enough to fly it.

“Here or there. I can’t remember.” you looked over at Gareth, now uncertain.

“You, one of the most informed people here, don’t know where this came from?”

“I said I didn’t remember. There’s a difference.” he shrugged. Running a hand along the ship’s hull, he looked over at you. “Excuse the pun, but a lot is riding on you now. Whether you’re ready for it or not, what you do in the next twelve hours will change how the war ends.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel less nervous, it’s not really working Commander.” You flicked the collar of the uniform up, keeping it un-creased as you ducked around the ship to the door. “I appreciate the sentiment though.” you said, shooting him a wink and climbed into the cockpit.

“Wait! Don’t go yet!” Poe yelled, practically sprinting out of the base and into the hanger, trying to make sure he caught you before you left.

You’d already managed to say goodbye to the greater half of the base, including Rey, Finn, and Joon. Even BB, but no Poe until now.

You had spoken to Poe again last night - after Rey rudely interrupted you - but it wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t about the almost-kiss. Honestly you couldn’t quite remember what it was about, Poe had fallen asleep not too long into the conversation, and you followed suit - leaving him in his dorm to retreat to your own.

A single once-over of Poe told you he hadn’t bothered changing out of the clothes he fell asleep in.

“Jeez, I’ve been trying to hunt you down all morning.” Poe said, climbing the side of the ship to bring his face level to yours. “You don’t like staying in one place long, huh sweetheart?”

“You just woke up Poe.” you laughed, and your chest tightened. What if this was the last time you laughed with him?

“You can’t prove that.” his said, words as soft as his smile.

Did he hear your unspoken question?

“Oh I can - whether anyone believes me or not, that’d be where the problem lies.” A beat passed before you spoke again. “What were you looking for me for?”

“I felt I had a missed opportunity last night.” You quirked an eyebrow up at that. A smile tugging at your lips.

“Really?”

“Yes. I need to clock-in that opportunity.” You learnt over to the ship’s control panel, flicking a switch and pressing a couple buttons to warm up the engine.

“Sure you do Dameron.”

“Does that mean I don’t get a kiss?” He said, his voice was joking, but one look and you could tell he was a little disappointed. He always spoke more with his eyes than his actual voice.

“Oh whatever.” you said, leaning over the space created by the ship to grab the back of his neck and pull his lips flush to yours. It was clumsy, and slightly rushed, but when you both pulled away your breath was taken away just the same.

You both waited for a moment, your fingers toying with his curls ever-so-slightly, before you pulled away further.

“Thank you.” Poe said, smiling from ear to ear. You frowned, even though your smile mirrored his.

“What’re you thanking me for?”

“Well now I know what to look forward to more of once you get back.”

____________

It wasn’t until about halfway through the hyperjump that your nerves settled in again. Z2 was no help. He kept beeping and buzzing as if he was nervous too, and that only unsettled you. You swore the day Z2 was open about his droid-feelings was the day you died.

In this situation it didn’t fill you with your much needed confidence.

Back when you were on Nephimm you almost dared to dream you’d go up against the First Order one day. As a child your parents would occasionally tell you stories about the heroics of old, and that only spurred you on.

When you were a teenager and reached the age set by your planet’s authorities to move out of your parent’s home, they gave you a book to take with you. It was filled with stories and drawings of all those stories they’d told you.

Space and the stars.

Cities and the people in them.

Life and humanity.

Death and war.

You ship jolted, and you prepared yourself to exit hyperspace. You shot a glance at Z2, looking into his camera where the Resistance was looking back.

You might’ve been going into this mission on your own, but you weren’t alone.

__________

Never in his life was Poe as anxious as he was now.

Finn had noticed by the time they saw you’d exited hyperspace, and had tried to treasure Poe by placing a hand on his shoulder. That only worked so much.

Through Z2, they could see both inside your ship, and the scraps of the one being built before you. The thing was huge, even if it was still unfictional, and Poe saw you shiver.

“Since this thing is theirs, how about we do a little recon first Zee?” your voice came through clipped and fuzzy, but at least they could still hear you. The droid beeped at you, and you pushed the ship forward into the construction.

Poe could just make out the ship’s fame though the screen, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that it was a bit foreboding. Even for him.

After a lap of the ship, you pulled into a completed hanger, landing as if you’d done it a million times before, and stepped out. Poe squirmed where he stood. It was almost eerie watching you like this.

Not because it was through a droid’s perspective, but because of how easily you seemed to fit in as a First Order Officer.

Watching you go from a gittery, nervous wreck to emotionless and completely straight-faced sent a shiver through half the people that were watching. It was like you just slipped from one reality to another. Poe almost wondered if he'd been wrong to trust you, to get you into the inderworkings of the Resistance, but looking up at your friend - Joon - told him half of what he needed to know.

The real you was with the Resistance. This you that was on the projection, that was you back on Nephimm.

Each step you took, timed and precise, only made Poe remember. It made him finally piece together what you’d spoken about that night on your X-Wing’s wing - and everything after that.

Children being taught how to fly like professionals.

Teenagers being kicked out of their homes once they’d reached ‘the age’.

Being out of bed or your dorm past ‘bedtime’ wasn’t accepted.

You never having a nickname before you got here.

He concluded Nephimm wasn’t a nice place, as much as you gawked about the greenery and sunsets. It was beautiful, but only if you followed the rules.

Much like the First Order.

__________

Saying your heart was now sunken to the pits of your stomach was a slight exaggeration. It felt more like it was down in your womb with how heavy it was. You had a phrase, a mantra, running through the back of your mind.

‘Act like you belong, they won’t think any different.’

It was a new base. It had new crew and new faces. All you needed to do was find a master board, get the plans, get out and destroy the ship. It was simple. The two Star Destroyers outside would just have to wait until later. Mainly because they were much less simple.

Turning down another corridor, you were faced with a duo of Storm Trooper. You almost froze in your stride, but brushed passed them without so much as a glace. They didn’t pull you aside for it, so you figured you did something right.

As you passed another doorway, you realized you had no way to get in anywhere if it was locked. But then again, you could always pickpocket. You’d slipped cards in and out of Joon’s pockets since you met him, how different could that be?

Ahead two Officials turned into the hallway, flanked by two more Troopers. You have to make this quick. So you kept it casual, paying as little attention to Z2 as you could, and brushed past the left Officer just enough to stumble both you and him.

But the Officer caught you instead of the other way around. He fired questions at you, and your resolve cracked. It was slight, only the hesitation of a moment, but he saw it. And just like that it shattered completely.

You guessed nothing was ever really that easy.

___________

The Officers pulled you between them, and the only thing stopping you from completely lashing out at them was the bonds on your wrists and the two Troopers with their blasters behind you.

At least Z2 still wasn’t detected. He’d been behaving himself, unlike you.

Despite the Troopers behind you, it didn’t stop you from sending your worst and most venomous glares to anyone that dared look your way. It also didn’t stop you from making yourself the most inconvenient prisoner they’d ever have.

As if you’d just go with them without a fight.

Apparently a lowly Rebel was too unimportant to have the five-star treatment, and yet He had come all the way from one of the Destroyers to see you.

The Mr. Evil Overlord, and Supreme Leader of the First Order himself -

“- You. Kyline Raymond.”

“Kylo Ren.” the Officer corrected, holding onto your arm even tighter.

“Kylie Reed?”

“Kylo. Ren.” You almost considered ceasing the sass. But you would never fail Leia like that.

“Kyle Rey?”

“This rebel is defective. I don’t think she can hear you sir.” the Officer hissed, joliting your arm harshly in his grip. The Sith tiled his helmet down at you. Only slightly. It was as if you weren’t even worth that.

“She’s not defective,” he said, “Just like the rest of those Rebels, she just needs to be broken.”

The Officer looked from you back to Ren.

“Well what are you standing here for?” Ren growled. “Break her.”

__________

Series Taglist: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @writefightandflightclub @robindoesntloveme @kiaralein @danicalifxrnia @americasass-romanoff @morgannope @smolpeachees @afootnoteinyourhappiness @lonelydarlings @rae-rae-patcha @oakleyves @grincheveryday @seninjakitey @fanfin-glutton

Poe Dameron Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

#fight or flight rider #poe dameron x reader #poe damerson one shot #poe dameron imagine #star wars x reader #star wars oneshot #star wars imagine

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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If These Walls Could Talk Chapter 4: “Empty”—Castlevania (Netflix) Fic (Full Chapter!)

Fic Title: If These Walls Could Talk

Synopsis: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Title: “Empty”

Chapter summary: “He’s gone mad. And from that, there is no recovering him…It’s a tragedy…He could’ve changed the world. I think he might have, if Mother hadn’t died. “She’d sent him out into the world. That’s why he wasn’t there when the bishops took her…She sent him to travel… “Imagine if…the religious inquisition hadn’t proved true all of his worst instincts about humans.” “And now he’s going to use her death as an excuse to destroy the world.” “Oh, the world will still be here…But you will not be here…None of you…There will only be Dracula and his war council, and the hordes of the night… “Imagine it. A world without humans, under endless invented night. And Dracula in his castle, his revenge so horribly complete that there is nothing left to do but look out over a world without art or memory or laughter and know that he did his work well. That he did it all for love.”

Chapter 4:

The Castle doesn’t like the idea of its master going away.

They have been inseparable for such a long time now; the Castle has bent and broken and been Dracula’s castle for centuries. Its master leaves every once and a while, and he visits the woman’s home. But weeks, to months, to years without him is too long for a mirror to be apart from the thing it reflects. This is a vampire’s castle and Dracula is that vampire; he must stay inside its walls, in the cold and the dark, lest he burn. This is Dracula’s castle, and Dracula must stay within its halls. If he doesn’t…what is Castlevania after all? Just an empty tomb. A shell of something that was once living. A broken toy on the playroom floor, left there to start its dust collection after the child grew up.

Dracula never has to leave, for the Castle can take him wherever he wants to go in a flash of lightning and a rumble of dust and thunder. The idea that Vlad would travel the world like a man, all alone in the light, without his Castle, his shroud of darkness, isn’t right, to both of them, at first.

Hasn’t Castlevania done enough for its master? He is not like the boy, who needs to walk in the day. All he needs are these walls, the blood, and the night.

The woman has a way with persuasion. This was part of the trade, after all, Castlevania remembers. Dracula gave Lisa undying knowledge, and she took the immortal beakers and books—a part of Castlevania—out into the world to ‘do some good.’ (The Castle wasn’t sure quite how that worked, but she did have a knack for making good out of the patchwork pieces of evil.) It is Vlad’s turn to be given a piece of her mortality to take inside.

Lisa assures them that, just as Adrian came back more alive than ever, this will be a better form of life for Vlad too. He will have to be more careful; to stay out of the sun, to ask to be invited, to wear traveling cloaks, not royal robes, to temper his thirst, and be patient with humanity—(just as she has been with him)—but in the end he will come back clothed in gold, and it will all be worth it.

Castlevania wishes it had human hands to hold onto him, but all it has are cold stones, and mechanical bones; it cannot keep him within its walls forever, without collapsing.

Dracula kisses them goodbye with hope in one hand, promises in the other, two rays of sunlight ever in his heart, saying he’ll be back.

And he doesn’t come back that night. That morning. The next.

When Adrian left, the Room understood the meaning of the words ‘I miss you.’ It realized what it was to be empty—that is, in that it was once once full, and was missing something. After all those years, Castlevania too finally understands the true meaning of all those words once used to describe it: ‘lonely,’ ‘dark,’ ‘cold,’ and ‘empty.’ It was those things, it never felt those things itself before.

Dracula may have been cold and dark and undead, but he brought life of a sort to the Castle. He made it breathe, its heart beat. Just his footsteps in the halls was a comfort, a kind of music—be it mechanical and half-dead. And finally he talked to the walls. ‘Emptiness’ for it is was an adjective, not a noun; it was an outfit it wore, not a feeling etched deep within the walls in a place no one could ever really touch.

It didn’t know what it was like to lose your purpose, what a hopeless existence it is for a mirror to be without a reflection.

The Castle doesn’t know if it ever breathed, but it thinks it understands the breathlessness the Room must have felt without Adrian. It is big, and rich, and intricate…and hollow. It’s like there’s a hole somewhere deep inside it that cries to be filled, and can never be as long as its master is away.

But we are not alone, says the Room.

It looks up and remembers this is true; Adrian remains. Their boy. The boy who belongs to its master, the woman, and the Room together. And Castlevania likes to think he belongs to it too, in some way. The boy for whom that death-defying Room exists. The boy who stole patches of sunlight when his father wasn’t looking, who cried when when no one was listening, who brought books, toys, and drawings, lonely vampire kings, and old decrepit castles to life.

It feels cold and dark, dead and empty…until Alucard opens the windows.

The Castle is thrown into a pool of gold, and the sensation is jarring; the switching of states, temperatures so fast. Such a drastic change so quickly isn’t all right with Castlevania, especially when it is so different from how its master always dressed it. It is Dracula’s castle, that piercing, dripping stain that no light enters. It shouldn’t go out in colorful garb, it just isn’t fitting. Though perhaps the jarring change is ultimately less painful than dipping each room in slowly.

It’s that same tail-pulling sensation from when he was a boy. Except this is much worse, because it’s the whole Castle—its entire form—and he never closes them. Before it was just the Room, and the Room is a part of the Castle, so the Castle could feel its burn, but it was dulled there. When he opened the door to the Room, the light slithered out, its scales doused in poison, leaving a stinging trail as it went. But its cage was always in the Room; its venom didn’t remain in the Castle’s veins forever. Now there is no barrier between the Castle and the light, no home for the sun to crawl back to. It has been let loose, and the stones are soaked in venom, like needles all over the Castle’s body.

Its existence is now drenched in sunlight. Before long it becomes like how they painted the Room so long ago, it is a fact of life—at least while Alucard reigns, and the Castle looks completely different dressed in morning sunrise.

The sting begins to fade; the Castle becoming immune to the poison. And, after the pain ebbs, the Castle can look at itself objectively, and thinks somewhere deep beneath its walls, in a place it would never share, that maybe this change is not a bad thing.

The Room breathes deeper than ever before, enough to laugh. Grinning it turns to the Castle, as if saying Feels good doesn’t it?

Castlevania looks away.

There was so much it didn’t notice about itself before. The gold on the carpets shimmers, it knows now that mirrors glitter, and how much dust was on the bookshelves—(Adrian is sure to brush it off)—it knows now why others put pictures on the walls; because the stones are so bare and uninteresting in the light, and the fires are such a aggressive light and heat compared to the soft blanket of warmth over the world, like snowfall transforming all.

It knows now why humans like to go out during the day.

It is a different kind of life. It isn’t like the science Vlad used to make it breathe and beat. This is softer, quieter, warmer. Less mechanical more…real. It doesn’t mean Vlad’s method of bringing it to life was bad or wrong, nor that Alucard’s is good, or right, it’s just different. And maybe different is okay for now.

The boy looks different too.

Adrian’s features are illuminated, his expressions dance in ray and shadow, his hair is like liquid gold draining across his shoulders, his eyes flicker and dance like candlelight.

And he doesn’t burn.

Adrian reads books in the sun, and he practices magic and sword in the sun, he drinks tea and wine—not blood—in the softly lit kitchen, polishes the shelves, makes sure everything works properly, and sits on the balconies and lets the wind brush through his hair, all in the sun, in the sun. Sometimes he leaves to go outside, into towns, to get rid of a monster or two, but mostly he leaves to visit his mother. Even when he does, the world is left in a satisfied glow.

His golden hair and eyes are no longer a bright spot on a dark canvas, but a reflection of his universe. His parents may have built his universe long ago, but he has spread his Room throughout Castlevania, conquered the multiverses around him, claiming them for his own, until the Castle doesn’t know which of them is which anymore.

The gold dripping through the halls reminds the Castle of that word from long ago, the one used to describe the baby in the painting: “happy.” It may be a pale echo of the world back then, when all three of them there, but the Castle is well versed in the world of reflections, and knows there is a world in which they don’t exist, and an echo may not be the real thing, but it will satisfy as a substitute.

Those times are quiet, with fewer raids, fewer pitchforks, shoutings and fires, because people like Alucard. They didn’t like Dracula, but Alucard is not Dracula. And Castlevania could enjoy the excitement…but the quiet is nice for a while.

Even so, the quiet does remind it of what, who, is absent. The Castle misses its master. The boy, the sun, the change, may help, but that fact will always remain at the back of its consciousness. There will always be some emptinesses that cannot be filled with substitutes. It misses its master, wants him to come back. Even so, it thinks it may be able to last a few months longer in the sun. Until Vlad returns, at least.

And he does.

Dracula does return. And when he does, he is not the same. But not in the way they were expecting; he does not arrive full of life, spreading his newfound spirit throughout the halls—as Alucard’s glowing return made them anticipate. He doesn’t come with a new name and tales of how he defeated monsters and made friends, he doesn’t return with a new perspective, and a handful of smiles. He returns, but it’s almost as if he still hasn’t. He is more dead than Castlevania has ever seen him. As if the sun burned him after all. But it burned something deep beneath his skin.

There is no joyful banquet of welcome. He does not kiss their cheeks, hug them and whisper into their ears I missed you so, my Castle, my Sunlight. He does not come bearing gifts for his son, nor decorations for his Castle, from afar. He does not sigh and say it’s good to be home and remember his purpose.

Castlevania may not have ever breathed, but there was something like it when Vlad was here. He brought it to life somehow. Castle’s cannot speak but it felt they had a way of communicating somehow. Mirrors cannot speak either, but we hear their words all the same. But Dracula doesn’t talk to the walls anymore. And he cannot hear his Castle’s reply.

He marches in all too quickly, a purpose in his stride. But it’s not a fulfilling purpose, like that of the Room, nor a reflective purpose, like that of the Castle, rather it’s the emptiness before. Emptiness, yes… but not like before. Not the adjective, the outfit from his previous reign, not the noun, the feeling from when he was gone, instead it is a verb; it is something active. It’s more than just a lack of something; something grew, came alive in and of the lack. It’s a hungry emptiness, like the humans’ fire set to swallow everything deemed unworthy. The Castle has worn emptiness before, but this is different…or maybe it is different now.

Vlad left as a man, walking on his own feet, taking the slower path, but he comes back as a vampire, teleporting in a flash of flame, forgetting that he has legs that would like to carry him to distant lands, and hands that would like to touch the world, and eyes that would like to see the scenery.

The once light-laced windows shutter at his arrival, the curtains slam shut, as if the Castle got a chill at his footsteps. As if they were doing something wrong, and had to shut it down as fast as possible. Every single one of them shivers, closes, dares not refuse their master.

All except the those in the Room. Those in the Room do not shudder or shut down. Dracula is not their master. They will not obey. They cannot do much to protest the night, but they will do what they can; they will stand open and unafraid of the dark.

Castle’s can’t get slapped in the face, but if they could, this is what it probably would feel like.

Coming home without the home in his heart…like Castlevania isn’t home for him anymore.

They were learning how to change together; its master was supposed to return full of life. Together they were meant to feel the light’s sting, together they were meant to learn to live in it. To see the true state of their world, without the darkness to cover it up. Instead he came back empty, all that life he gained while Lisa and Adrian were here used up, stolen away from him by a cruel world. The Castle wasn’t worried about the humans ransacking what little light existed in Dracula, as they feared with Alucard—surely Vlad could only gain, he did not have enough in him to lose.

Castlevania understands now what it should have done; it should have collapsed all its walls to keep him inside.

It is far worse to know the light, and have it snatched away, than to only know the dark.

The Castle would be happy to at least have its master back, regardless if the experiment succeeded…But it isn’t sure it does.

Dracula has been angry before, but anger was a thing to take outside and deal with, not bring inside. The Castle is, for the most part, a quiet, soft place for him to spend his time, to contemplate, and learn, to experiment in, not to brood in rage. Rage was for the outside world. Inside may have been cold, dark and empty but it was serenity.

The darkness and the cold and the death this Castle once transmitted are no longer a radio station to be changed with the flick of a dial. These qualities have infected Dracula’s very being, it seeps out of him with every waxing and waning footstep, it oozes out of him as he sits in his study—no longer in quiet contemplation, but an unrest that is so loud it resonates perfectly with everything Castlevania is made of. It resonates so perfectly it reminds Castlevania of everything it once was when the vampire king ruled, tuning, turning it back into something that cares not for the color gold, and the discrepancies between its existence then and now melt away into before. It resonates perfectly with everything Castlevania is made of…and it thinks it just might shatter.

—(And maybe that would be a good thing, because it would let the light in. Maybe that’s the only way to let the light in now)—

The emptiness the Castle was before, the emptiness the Castle felt when Dracula first left has swallowed its master, and Dracula is now not a thing to reflect, but a negative space on the pages, a black hole that takes in all light and life and devours it. He walks in, not as its master who brought it to life, returning that life to the emptiness, filling those places the light still couldn’t reach, those places ever missing him… but as an empty shell that cannot fill anything, and only makes them all emptier they longer they look at him.

Dracula has been undead before. But that was undead; not quite alive, not quite dead either—and he could swing to either side. This is different.

With one swipe he rips off all the gold the Castle wore just yesterday like thieves in the night, leaving it broke and naked on the highway, and such a drastic change so quickly sends it lying on the floor in shock, one question dying on open lips, tears draining down its cheeks:

Why?!

When he left so full, what could have taken all that away? What could have taken away even what little life he had before it all? Did the world chip away at him slowly, or was it one event that kidnapped his life? What, who did they need to destroy?

Then, as Dracula marches into the library with the big broken mirror, and talks to a crowd of humans with tongues of a fire, it learns:

It is the woman. The woman who knocked on the Castle door all those years ago with the pommel of her knife. The woman with the soft hands and the defiant heart. The only human who was sweet in more than taste. Lisa, who brought sunlight into the darkest reaches of the Castle.

Vlad’s wife has been taken from him.

Dracula’s life has been taken from him.

The sanguine nature of humanity. Their penchant for setting things on fire. The ravenous nature of those flames. Vampires are known for being bloodthirsty, but the Castle always knew their thirst never compared to that of humanity. Vampires are known for catching on fire but she was never turned, and did she need to burn?

The world has taken the woman, and, worse, its master’s life away, and the Castle is more than willing to go to war for it. It agrees humanity must die for such a crime.

Hating and blaming the world, the humans who once scratched at the doors and howled at the moon is better than facing the thing deep inside Castlevania that tells it it’s all its fault. All its fault for letting her take pieces of it outside.

After all, it was the parts of Castlevania—the beakers and books—which she took outside to help people, to ‘do some good,’ which got her killed. So maybe its master is right that they can’t be helped. Maybe there isn’t any good in the world after all.

But something is still here. The Room says, once again. Someone.

Yes, she brought life into this place, and much of that life would leave with her. But have you forgotten that there is a life that cannot be taken away with her? That they created life within your miserable walls and that life, well, lives? Remember that a piece of her is still here, and you don’t have to pretend death is all that’s left.

The Room sees that the boy’s father is cold, and dark, empty, and dead. But unlike the Castle as a whole, for which these words are outfits to wear, facts of life, the Room has learned these are problems, and there are solutions to them. Solutions which the boy can enact.

He is dark. Observes the Room.

It ponders what to do with dark things.

So open a window, it tells Adrian. Let the sunlight in.

The Room’s window has always been open, and it does not know the flammable nature of full-blooded vampires. But starlight is a kind of light too.

He is cold. Observes the Room.

It ponders what to do with cold things.

So hold him. It tells his son. Like he did for you, all those years ago, when you were a tiny, bawling thing.

He is dead. Observes the Room.

It ponders what to do with dead things. The Room sits and thinks and begins to despair, for it does not know how to bring the dead to life.

The Castle takes a deep breath, and finally speaks up;

You opened the windows and cast the darkness away. It tells Alucard. You let the sun in and warmed my halls.

So take that gold, form it into a cloak, and dress him in it. Teach him what your universe looks like, what I looked like, when you were here.

Take him by the arm, and walk with him out into the stars, call them by name, like he, you and your mother did, long ago.

Go to him. Hold him. And don’t let go.

Lisa brought life to this place. You are the life they created. You are their legacy. You are the one life her death cannot take away.

If you can do that for me, if you can bring this old, wretched castle to life, you can reanimate your father too. All you need to do is remind him that you are here.

The Castle hopes, somewhere in the back of its mind it dreams, he can still come back to life. It is his reflection, after all; surely what worked for the Castle can work for Dracula.

But…it is his reflection, after all. And as Alucard marches through the halls, and while the Room continues to urge the boy to go to his father, the Castle digs its nails into its palm until it bleeds, biting back against the anger bubbling inside it even so, knowing that war cries cannot be rewound so easily.

The boy answers their call, though maybe not in the way they expect. No…it is better than some loving display.

He does not open the windows, but he does open a door, and when he walks in, his face is barely visible, not because it’s dark, but because he is draped, surrounded in light, like the sun itself is behind his decree. The light has followed him from his room, slithered along the halls, and formed itself into wings on his back. His tone is firm and defiant, and as he confronts him, Lisa’s voice rings through the halls.

And the Castle understands now that light, warmth, and life, no matter how much they seem so, are not soft, not weak. They are violent, and they burn.

Alucard opposes all the war, the blood, the revenge, proving once and for all that the Room has reached him, fulfilled its purpose. And his words—while Dracula’s drip with rage, like the blood down his fingers—are filled with the same I-know-what’s-good-and-I’m-not-leaving-till-it-comes-out his mother’s words were once laced with. Echoing behind every sunstruck syllable is his mother’s I want to save people.

And they understand at last that rooms aren’t the only things with purposes.

Dracula has been undead before, but this death is different; this is more than a living death, death is a living thing in him.

Death has its strings wrapped around the vampire king’s wrists, plugged into his chest. This war, the cold, the death, and the emptiness, are all he wants, all he is now.

The Castle’s consciousness thrashes between the two sides; between Dracula’s black anger and Alucard’s golden hope.

And anger wins.

The Castle is used to being spattered with blood, but when the boy’s—

—Adrian, who laughed, who played pretend, and showed them what ‘happy’ was, Alucard, the reverse of Dracula, who let the light in—

—blood is spilled by its master, the boy’s father, the one who created him and his light-strewn world, who laughed, and played with him, and painted the walls, and walked amongst the stars, who should know more than anyone he is worth listening to—

Castlevania thinks it might not like the cold, the dark, the empty, or the blood at all anymore.

The red stain is an unbearable itch it’s hopeless to scratch. The blood burns like acid on its floors, a brand of this war, this death, this emptiness burned upon its flank, as if making it remember its original purpose and habit, and who it is meant to obey. It wants to collapse on the floor, to writhe and scream and clutch at the place where it hurts.

But castles do not cry. They do not scream. They do not ache.

It can only be a reflection, can only do what its master wants; be an instrument of war. That is all. It can only obey, and try to remember what it liked about the color black.

Alucard—still alive, thank whatever gods might be out there—cannot stay in these blackened halls anymore, and neither can the sunlight. When he leaves, he takes with him all the things he brought inside.

Dracula shuts the door to the Room; he hides the walls he painted, the toys she stitched, the stars they gazed at, the books they fell asleep to together, and the window where the boy danced in the light, like he’s playing peekaboo; if he covers his eyes, the outside world will stop existing…or in this case, the inside one. As if it lying dormant will allow the emptiness to swallow it, and it to become a part of the Castle again. As if he’s trying to forget the very life he’s going to war for. Like he can silence his own heart, tell it that it doesn’t, doesn’t, doesn’t beat anymore. He hides the only pocket of heaven that ever existed in his finely crafted hell, and tries to pretend that there was never any laughter, any light here, and they can all forget what it was to be happy.

The Castle wonders if this is what it feels like when people try to lock away the best parts of themselves because they ache.

But the Room has become something more now. It has always been different, separate. It was never just not-cold, not-dark, not-empty, not-dead. It was not a negative. It was warm, light, full, and alive. And that doesn’t just go away. Its very existence defies being swallowed. It has always protected the thing inside it against the blood and the dark and the death, and it cannot, will not, accept them now. It enjoyed playing make-believe with the boy, but this isn’t pretend, imagination, the Room knows what is real, and this is a lie, and the Room will not stand for it, will not accept the thought that it never existed, never held any sunlight, that there was never any laughter here. It is alive, and it can only sleep, not retreat back into a state of nonexistence. It is not dead, and will not just sit still; it shivers in the cold and the dark. It may be lonely without the boy, but it will not just sit there in silence, or else get down on itself, quietly mourning the boy’s departure, thinking there is nothing it can do. It knows Alucard is coming back. The Room has grown up, and it doesn’t fear its master is gone forever when he leaves for a while. Its master will return, and when he does, he will fight. He will oppose the cold, the dark, and the death again, this time stronger. So no, it is not empty, just uninhabited.

And Dracula knows this. Dracula knows he cannot let the Room have a single second to breathe, because if it does, hope might just come back. So he wraps his claw around the Room’s throat and squeezes.

And it hurts. Far more than the sting of sunlight, Castlevania knows how much the Room hurts. Because, though they are separate, the Room will always be a part of the Castle. The light’s sting may have hurt, but it was passive, the side effect of medicine. This is an active, hateful, and sick. The Castle may have winced at the light’s bite. But the Room squirms within, and grapples at his grasp, fight alight, life and rage blazing in its eyes, locked on Dracula.

The books cough until their lungs bleed, the toys whine until their voices break, the drawings beat against the walls they’re upon until their skin rips open, the stars twinkle until they can’t open their eyes, and the the painting of that child in the arms of his mother and father, ‘happy,’ hangs limp on the wall with its tongue cut out. The Room burns in the middle of the Castle.

I won’t forget. Castlevania says fervently, shaking its head. I won’t forget Lisa. I won’t forget Alucard. I won’t who they were when they were together. I won’t forget what it was to be happy. I won’t forget who I was in the light. I won’t—

But Dracula rips them apart, the door shuts, and their connection dulls. The Castle’s own heartbeat begins fading.

The Castle gets frostbite, goes numb in the cold. It starts to go blind in the dark. The emptiness starts to rot its chest. Something in it dies.

Castles do not have hearts, but Castlevania wonders if this is what it feels like when one breaks.

And the Room suffocates.

29 notes · View notes

greennct · 5 years

Text

yukhei is not your boyfriend

three parties, three encounters,,,,, one fuckboy

i know this isn’t the most original idea lol, but i hope you enjoy anyway!! 💞💖💘

warning!! there’s some examples of toxic behaviour in this one, nothing blatantly physically violent, just a boy treating you shitty, with over :( reminder that my inbox is always open if you want to talk about anything!

3.6k words, angsty, but ultimately fluffy

song rec: just saying by 5sos this life by vampire weekend

It was 9:30 on a Saturday night, and you were already trying to excuse yourself from your best friend’s birthday party. You were not at all surprised by how furiously Jaehyun protested.

“Are you kidding?! You got here, like, an hour ago! Half the guests haven’t even arrived yet!”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just-”

“Don’t you dare even say his name in my presence.” He interrupted.

You sighed. Here we go again. It was not a secret Jaehyun didn’t approve of your boyfriend. You understood that from an outside perspective, it looked like he was too controlling, however you saw the constant monitoring of your behaviour as sweet, and protective, rather than scary or oppressive. Sure, it meant that you didn’t feel comfortable going to every social event you were invited to as a result, since your boyfriend would never really want to go with you, and left you feeling guilty for leaving him at home, especially as he always pressured you to come back quickly.

But you didn’t mind, as you felt you were content within your relationship, and didn’t care much for other people’s opinions. However, Jaehyun did not make your nonchalant attitude towards others’ criticism easy, as he made sure his disapproval was excruciatingly clear each and every time your boyfriend was brought up in conversation. Just like right now.

“It’s just, he gets angsty when I'm out late. I don’t want to worry him, I-”

“Girl. You know he doesn’t own you? You don’t actually owe anything to him!”

“Jae, it’s about-”

“Commitment, I know.” Jaehyun mocked you, already knowing how you were going to reply to him. It was almost comical how many times the two of you had had this conversation before. “Look, I’ll let you leave soon, but stay for at least another half an hour.”

You managed a smile, relenting immediately. You could text your boyfriend, giving him a definitive time you would be back, and actually enjoy yourself for thirty minutes. You opened up your messages app to send him a quick text.

“Hello?” Jaehyun coed over your furious texting. “Earth to-”

“I’ll stay until ten, Jae. Thanks for being so-”

“Huh?” Jaehyun laughed. “Doll, I just asked you if you’d met Yukhei before.”

You looked up from your phone, realising that someone had joined in to your conversation. He had clearly just arrived at Jaehyun’s apartment, tugging his coat from his shoulders, and turning to face you. And look you up and down. Extremely obviously.

“Oh,” You flushed, embarrassed that you had been caught out on your phone. “Sorry. Hi.”

“I’m Yukhei.” He smirked. Then winked. “But you already knew that.”

When you didn’t reply, literally in shock from how flirtatious the boy was, your best friend had to step in.

“And your name is?” Jaehyun teased gently, eyebrows raised slightly.

“I have a boyfriend.” You blurted out. “And I love him. So-”

“So that means you can’t have a name? What is this, the 17th century?” Yukhei interrupted you, tone still relaxed, suave.

“What?! No!” You exclaimed, managing to splutter out your name. You turned to your left, looking from Jaehyun for support. Of course, he had completely disappeared, just when you needed him most.

You fiddled with your hands nervously, unsure of how to navigate this new, unforeseen territory. All of your friends had known that you were with your boyfriend for such a long time, that no one bothered even playfully flirting with you anymore. Suddenly, this boy had waltzed in and sent your world spinning on its axis with his stupid lopsided grin and suggestive looks.

“That’s a cute name.” He cocked an eyebrow, titling his head ever so slightly in such a calculated way that you could tell he had done it a thousand times before.

You realised that this was common practice for Yukhei, scoring a conquest to fawn over for a night before discarding them in the morning, leaving a broken heart behind with the rest of the detritus strewn over an apartment floor once packed with people. The fact that you had a boyfriend, that you had made it clear you were not interested, was of little importance to him. The boy had simply never heard the word ‘no’ before.

You felt a small sense of satisfaction that you were about to be Yukhei’s rude awakening.

“Thanks. It means Devil Spawn.” Your face was open, innocent.

Yukhei blanched. “D-devil Spawn? Uh, that’s... “ He tried to regain his facade of confidence. “Kinda freaky, I guess.”

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh.” He squirmed in your unflinching gaze. “That’s, uh.” A nervous chuckle. “Funny. I dig chicks who are funny.” A hint of a smirk began to return to his cheek.

“My name actually means mother of all demons.” You finally flashed him a sarcastic smile, and stalked off.

You were surprised to realise that Yukhei eventually followed you to the other side of the party. Halfway through catching up with some of your friends from high school, you felt his presence behind you, almost breathing down your neck.

Whipping around irritably, you tried half-heartedly to suppress a grimace. “Do you need something? Can’t find the bathroom?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could show me to the bedroom,” he shot back, not missing a beat, all with that same infuriating smirk.

“Ugh. You’re disgusting.” Glancing at your phone’s lockscreen, you were relieved to discover the half an hour you had pledged to stay was up, and hurried towards the door.

“Wait up, babe! Too soon? I’ll wait ‘til marriage! Or a least, ‘til the second date!” Yukhei yelled, jogged around the clustered bodies in pursuit of your disappearing figure.

Not bothering to even bid Jaehyun a farewell in your haste to leave, you shouted a “Goodbye, Yukhei!” before slamming the door. Leaning against it for a second in relief of having escaped the situation, you muttered to yourself, “And good riddance.”

It was 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon, and you were practically itching to leave your shared apartment. You technically owned the place alone, since your boyfriend didn’t pay rent, but since he spent so much time there rather than at his actual apartment, the two of you basically lived together.

“Sweetie, are you ready?” You called into your bedroom. “I laid out some clothes for you on the bed about an hour ago.”

You heard a grunt come from the open door, and chuckled slightly to yourself. Twirling back and forth in front of the mirror in your living room, you admired your outfit.

Taeil was having a barbecue in honour of the first few days of summer in his huge communal garden, and you weren’t ashamed to admit you were extremely excited. You had convinced your boyfriend to accompany you that afternoon. He had made it clear from when you first started dating, that he didn’t like your friends, and didn’t want to have to spent time with them. However, today, he had agreed to stop by for about an hour, and you were ecstatic. You also knew, with a flutter of guilt, that Yukhei was going to be at the gathering.

You had found the brown-haired boy drifting in and out of your thoughts the past few weeks. Somehow, something about the twinkle in his eye when looking you up and down had been harder to forget than you had anticipated. Each time you caught yourself thinking of him, you pushed the thought to the back of your mind with an overwhelming feeling of wrongdoing.

You decided that your unnerving infatuation was down to the fact he had given you such blatant attention. Your boyfriend had never really been one for romantic gestures, however you had to admit that during the past few months, his affection had dwindled to almost nothing. Sometimes it felt he was more of a tenant in your flat than your actual boyfriend.

However, today was going to turn all of that around. You had bought a new outfit and styled your hair to perfection, spending a copious amount of time on ensuring that you looked nice. And staring into the mirror now, you knew that you looked stunning.

Though you knew it was morally questionable, you were actually kind of relying on Yukhei’s inappropriate advances in order to try and recapture your boyfriend’s affection. Hopefully, he would become jealous of the attention that you were receiving, and suddenly realise that he had been taking you for granted all this time. You sighed at your reflection. Even you could see how flawed your plan was. Nevertheless, you were determined to make the most of an afternoon spent with your friends, relationship drama aside.

You turned, hearing movement from your bedroom, surprised at what you saw. Your boyfriend had emerged from playing video games in your study, still wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants from the previous day.

“Honey, didn’t you see the clothes I put on the bed? There’s still time to change!” You encouraged.

He simply rolled his eyes. “We’re only staying for half an hour anyway. Let’s just get this over with.”

Ten minutes into the barbecue, you found yourself almost as unenthusiastic as your boyfriend. The entire time you had spent walking around and greeting everyone, he had been whispering snide comments into your ear. His nose was way too big, and her skirt was much too short, and the decorations were tacky, and the punch wasn't cold enough, and a million other things you were sure that no one else had noticed. You were irritated, and upset that everything he had pointed out had influenced you as well, now only being able to see the flaws in the people you loved so much. So when you heard a familiar voice calling you from the other side of the room, you were eager to move towards the source.

“Hi, Yukhei.” You tried to suppress a smile. “This is my boyfriend.” You introduced him, glancing between the two men’s faces as if watching a tennis match while they shook hands.

“What’s up, man?” Yukhei was as confident as ever.

“Yeah, uh... Good for you, dude.” Your boyfriend turned the other way.

He had completely ignored the meaningful look Yukhei had shot you when you had first met his eyes. He had completely disregarded the conversation Yukhei had tried to imitate with him. Instead, your boyfriend had decided that the chocolate fountain to his left was much more important than any attempt at being polite.

You sighed, turning back to the boy in front of you, about to apologise on his behalf when you were interrupted.

“Let’s go. The food here is shit.” Your boyfriend commanded offhandedly. You could feel Yukhei stiffen at his imperative language. The tiny, yet obviously negative reaction gave you enough confidence to reply with a contradiction.

“Actually, babe,” You ventured, “I think I’m gonna stay for a bit.”

There was a short pause as both the men next to you absorbed what you had said.

Your boyfriend laughed awkwardly, confused. “But I said we’re leaving.”

“And I said, I'm staying.” You remained resolute.

“I don’t care what the fuck you said!” He exploded. The chatter in the garden died down as everyone turned to see why someone had started shouting.

“I want to see my friends!” You couldn't help but to raise your voice to his level. “You never let me anymore!”

“That’s because they’re all idiots, you’re just too fucking stupid to realise!” Your boyfriend took a step forwards, moving his hands forwards to grab you by the shoulders. The next few moments happened so quickly that you could barely remember what actually went on.

Firstly, you flinched, and started to cower slightly, prepared for the worst as you were caught off guard with his sudden movement towards you. However, before he could even touch you, Yukhei cut through the space between the two of you, forming a physical barrier between you and your boyfriend.

“Hey, man-” He started, politely but firmly, however was once again interrupted by your boyfriend.

“Stay out of this, dude.” He shoved Yukhei slightly. “We’re going,” your boyfriend threatened, leaning around the other boy’s large torso. “If you’re not in the car with me within the next five minutes, don’t bother coming home.”

Humiliated, you watched your boyfriend storm out of the party with cheeks flushed red with shame. The entire party was silent. You could feel Taeil’s concerned eyes on you, but you couldn't even look him in the eye, already guilty about making a scene at his barbecue.

“Are you okay?” You heard a gently voice to your left, and realised that Yukhei was still standing close by you. You looked up into his eyes, suddenly noticing they were a deep shade of brown, softening as his face twisted slightly with worry.

He was being sweet. Too sweet. Something about this Yukhei, a protecting, understanding man contrasted a little too much with the sleazy teenager you had met before. There was no way of telling which version of him was real. You could feel your chest hardening as you started to scowl at him.

“I was doing just fine without you butting in. This wasn't any of your business.” You muttered, making sure to hit him with your shoulder as you barged past him, following your boyfriend out, head hung in humiliation.

You didn’t reply to anyone’s concerned texts that evening, reading them in silence at opposite ends of the table to your boyfriend. You cursed yourself for refreshing your messages so frequently, searching for a text from the one person you had truly upset today. You couldn’t get the image of Yukhei’s expression after you had snapped at him out of your head. He had truly looked upset, and even a little disappointed. Somehow, that image had affected you more than your boyfriend’s stony quiet the entire evening.

You sighed. You knew what you had to do. That didn’t make doing it any easier.

It was barely even 7:30 in the evening on Friday, and you were ugly-crying embarrassingly hard. The tears pouring down your cheeks were mixing with the snot and saliva that covered your blotchy face as your chest heaved up and down with sobs. You were sitting in Doyoung’s spare room, in semi-darkness as you made no attempt to cover up your wailing. The music was playing so loudly that you were confident that no one in the apartment could here you.

It was safe to say that your day had not been going well.

You had broken up with your boyfriend the same day he had tried to grab you at Taeil’s party. Looking back, you couldn’t believe it had taken so long for you to realise how toxic the relationship had been. You also couldn’t believe how completely devastated you were that it was over.

It had been three weeks since the breakup, and you had ventured outside of your now achingly empty apartment for the first time in order to celebrate Doyoung’s birthday. All of your friends had rejoiced the minute you had told them of the end of your relationship, finally being able to freely voice their hatred for your old boyfriend. It was clear now, looking back, that, he truly had been an A* asshole, however, you still found yourself feeling depressed and empty after he finally packed his things. After a few nights spent throwing crumpled tissues at romantic comedies, you had decided to try and put an end to your moping, and become your carefree self once again.

You had thought that you were ready to socialise, however within five minutes of having to sit next to Taeyong’s girlfriend gushing over the amethyst promise ring he had just gifted her, you had excused yourself in order to bury yourself within the coats everyone had shoved in the guest room, and bawl away in peace. You reckoned you had at least another ten minutes before any of the already slightly inebriated guests started to look for you, and so you safely wallowed in your despair.

You were just about to open up the instagram app on your phone to scroll through all the photos of your ex-boyfriend that you had archived, when the door half-opened, and a coat was thrown directly onto your face.

“Hey!” You squeaked at the closing door, more for your own benefit than anyone else’s, as you suspected the partygoer could not even hear you over the SNSD blasting from the living room.

To your surprise, the door re-opened, and an all-too-familiar voice responded. “Hello?”

You huffed, pushing the coat off of your body as you came face to face with Wong Yukhei.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, accusingly.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?” He shot back. “I’m not the one hiding in a pile of coats, am-” He stopped himself when he saw the tears trailing down your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the question. It could not be more apparent how utterly destroyed you were, sitting snivelling in the dark in a pile of coats while everyone else was partying. “Yep!” You replied sarcastically. “Just peachy.”

Yukhei startlingly did not take the opportunity to tease you. Instead, he shut the door behind him, and flopped down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

Although taken aback by his sudden change in personality, not to mention the fact that he somehow knew exactly what you were sad about, you were honestly too drained from crying so much, to really question or protest against it. “Not really. I’m so relieved it’s finally over, so I don’t know why I miss him so damn much.” You sniffed, wiping the mucus from your nose with the sleeve of your shirt, not caring how it might look to Yukhei.

He astonished you with his behaviour for the umpteenth time. “I don't think you miss him, I think you just miss the idea of him. The feeling that you always had someone waiting for you at home, no matter how bad of a person that was. It’s hard, especially because you two were together for so long, to suddenly find yourself alone after such a while. It’s scary, and you miss the security of having someone care about you.”

You were silent for a few minutes, digesting what the boy had just told you. “You know what... I think you’re right. I miss being in love. But honestly, I don’t think I have been for a long time.” You paused again, trying to organise your thoughts. “Hey, how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Take my emotions, and make them... make sense, I guess.” You let out a wry laugh at your nonsensical sentence.

“I just care about you a lot.” He replied. He said the words in such a casual, matter-of-fact way that you almost missed the meaning behind them.

You turn your head, and are taken aback by how close Yukhei’s face is to yours. He was already looking at you, and your sudden movement meant that you could feel his breath fanning softly over your face.

“What?” You whisper, hardly daring to speak.

“I like you.” He stated, voice lowering to match your tone. “I have since the moment I walked into Jaehyun’s apartment all those weeks ago.”

“W-why?”

He laughs, softly, and you feel something in your stomach stirring, a warmth you’ve felt before, but never allowed to grow or even be acknowledged.

“Because the first thing you say when I confess is ask for proof. Because you didn’t take shit from me when I tried all my usual tricks on you. Because you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before, spunky and witty and...” He struggled to find the right word. “Effervescent. You’re effortless, you’re incredibly strong, and I admire you so much.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t know how to. The compliments that Yukhei gave you so unceremoniously, that seemed to roll off of his tongue so naturally, were unlike anything your ex-boyfriend, or anyone else, for that matter, had ever said.

And suddenly, you understood. You understood why you had been aching slightly even before you broke up with your boyfriend, why you had felt so empty. And now, why when you were lying next to Yukhei in the semi-reality that was an empty room in a houseparty, you suddenly felt more whole than you had in years.

You were snapped back to reality when he started to babble. He had clearly taken your silence as a bad sign, and began to backtrack. “Of course, I want to do this right, when you’re ready. I don’t want to force anything on you, or-”

Yukhei’s voice was muffled by your lips pressing to his. You kissed him, slowly, tenderly, simply enjoying the feeling of intimacy with him. You pulled back after a few seconds, searching his face for a reaction.

“Are you sure it’s not too fast?” He frowned a little, evidently concerned for you.

You smoothed the wrinkles on his brow with your fingertips. “I’m sure. This is what I want. You’re what I want, Yukhei.”

He sighed with happiness, brushing the remains of tears from your cheeks with his rough thumbs, cupping your chin within his palms. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Oh,” You grinned, “I think I do.”

And with that, he crashed his lips against yours.

261 notes · View notes

alltheangstmygifttoyou · 4 years

Text

First Vacation

A/N: This is the fifth part to Learn To Be’s prequel and one of the more graphic and upsetting parts so please pay attention to the trigger warnings, and please let me know if I need to add more. It is back in Jester’s perspective. Out of the early parts this one is one of my favorites, I like the way it’s formatted and with the help of my teacher I liked the little descriptions and details added. I hope ya’ll like it too.

Summery: Jester sits alone in the dorm room at night and remembers what her first vacation home was like.

Word Count: 2188

TW: Graphic violence, graphic child abuse, disassociation, carving, victim blaming

Jester sat back in the broken dorm chair in the dead of night. The only light in the large open room came from the glow of the electronic clock above the exit. It was just enough illumination to not reveal the location of anything but not let Jester’s eyes adjust to the darkness either. Everyone else was in their rooms, most likely asleep. Jester’s roommate hadn’t bothered to scold her about not going to bed, but no one else had either. Most students were tired after the excitement of the day, a new national holiday to celebrate the bond between family. Students had been given three days off school.

* * *

Jester should have expected a new holiday really, Father was a major part of the council, and they made all the rules for the country. She knew she’d be punished for rebelling by not taking the placement test but that would have come during Christmas, months away, allowing her plenty of time to come up with a plausible reason on why she needed to stay at her school Learn To Be. But instead after less than a month of freedom she’d only been given a days notice that that freedom was about to be taken away. Her mind had been blank that entire day, she felt as if she was watching herself move around. No one asked about it though. No one wanted to be friends with a kid from section fifteen. No one in section fifteen seemed to want to be. They all drifted through the halls like fallen leaves on a windy afternoon. Even June seemed to be barely there.

Jester wished she could have stayed in that half there state the entire holiday. Instead she snapped back into herself when her Father’s dark green eyes locked with hers and his smile grew. She sat on the right side of the car like she always had in Father’s car while Jesse sat on the far left. The air felt solid as if every breath was swallowing the tension made physical. Jesse kept looking at Jester and then looking away quickly despite Jester not moving. She kept her eyes forward on the black soft seat in front of her that her Mother currently occupied.

They began the ride home in silence, a bad sign seeing as Mother would no doubt be gushing out question after question for Jesse if their Father wasn’t angry. The silence was broken by their Father as they exited the large parking lot. The rear-view mirror was kept at an angle that made their Father’s eyes visible. It made it so the children were always aware that he was watching them. Since he was driving Jester couldn’t see much of his front but she could tell by the side of his face he was still smiling while he spoke.

“So how are you liking school so far kids?” He began with a simple question. It should have made her feel better to be included in the question, yet it just made all the moisture in her mouth evaporate. Jesse didn’t seem to get the same sense of danger though and began to ramble on about how great school was. How everyone had been really nice, and how his room was only a little smaller than the one at home. What the name of his new friends were and what their powers were. He hadn’t told half of this to Jester at their breakfast meetups. Although to be fair, they had talked less and less. Jesse constantly would just look at the table where his new friends were sitting at whenever Jester spoke. Jester didn’t have much she was willing to talk about in the first place, but if he wasn’t even listening then there was no point in saying anything at all. They mostly just gave good mornings to each other and then goodbyes.

“And what about you Jester, are you enjoying section fifteen?” His voice didn’t change with the question, it was still soft and hinted with curiosity. His eyes stared at her through the mirror. Jesse watched her as well. Whenever Jesse asked about section fifteen she avoided the topic, she’d brush it off and turn it around on him asking about section one. She could tell it frustrated him but she desperately didn’t want to lie outright to him anymore, but the truth hurt too much to say. Father knew she was miserable though, and he was taunting her.

“I am, the others are very nice and we work together to stay in control,” Jester hated how heavy the lie made her feel. It felt like her lungs were being squeezed by her rib cage. Her Mother’s had tightened into a fist on the top of the closed storage container between the front seats.

“Have you made any new friends like your brother?” Father pressed on and it took extreme focus to exhale steadily without tensing the rest of her body. She never made friends, people tended to avoid her ever since she started basics school. When she was little it was because she was too morbid, she would explain what could happen if the other kids ate random things off the ground and got poisoned, she would talk about how the body would sometimes just give up, or just asked the teacher surrounding topics most parents would shelter their kids from, like assault or overdose. Father made cruel real world realities apparent to her from a very young age. She talked about what five year olds shouldn’t know, and she ruined games of pretend with logic. There was once when she was little when another kid claimed that he had the power to fly in the game they were playing, and that he landed on a cloud. She explained that clouds were just water, and that he would just get wet. The other children did not appreciate this type of input. Jesse was her only friend, and that meant she would do anything to protect him. As such, kids began to dislike her even more because she was a liar, a liar that always won anyways. Teachers always believed her, after all, her lies had evidence to back them up. A hint of truth. What kind of child knew to do that? Father’s question was another jab at her.

“Yeah, my roommate June has been really nice to me,” Jester answered, ignoring the fact that June barely spoke to her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jesse watching her, head tilted to the side. Before Father could question her more about June she elaborated. “She’s fourteen, has short red hair, and likes to exercise. Every morning she wakes up and stretches, it's impressive how well she stays on routine.” Honestly Jester didn’t know anything else about June.

“It’s nice to see you making connections dear,” he answered. His calm, normal attitude was setting Jester on edge further. She knew he was angry, he had to be, Mother was silent. Soft classical music filled the car and no one dared to speak for the rest of the ride. Jester could hear father humming along to the songs. Mother never turned away from the windshield. Jesse, the least aware, was relaxed enough to fall asleep. His head rested on the side of the car door and there was a slight smile on his face. Jester wished that she could feel that way, yet a selfish part of her wanted him to be awake, as scared as she was. She wanted him to hold her hand and whisper to her that it would be okay. But she’d never take away Jesse's ignorance, not just because Mother and Father told her not to, but because he deserved to be happy. If Jesse knew he’d be like Jester, and the world already had too many jesters.

Once they were parked in the driveway Jester managed to move her stiff limbs and get out of the car. Father got out of the driver's seat but left the door open. Mother came around the front of the car and looked at Jester for a moment. Jester looked into her Mother’s pretty blue eyes, far different from Jester’s dark green, and pleaded silently for Mother to stay. Mother didn't react however, she stared a moment longer before giving Father a peck on the cheek and getting into the car. Jester was forced to watch her last hope run away from her until it became a mere dot in the distance. The thought that that was the last time she’d ever see Jesse occurred to her, but she had to brush it aside when a hand landed on her shoulder.

“Let’s go inside dear, we have so much to talk about,” Father’s voice was even more overly cheery than it had been in the car. His grip on her shoulder tightened with each step towards the horse to the point where Jester was sure there would be a bruise in the morning. Once the door was closed behind them he shoved her to the floor. She only managed to get to her knees before he kicked her in the ribs lifting her off the ground and twirling through the air twice before hitting the carpet elbow first. Every breath was like slamming a hammer on your finger every time the hammer went down. Despite the pain her body still made her sob. “Shut up, we both knew this was coming.” All traces of happiness was gone from his voice, replacing it was a tone one would use on an escaped pet rat that pooped on the floor. It was a tone Jester heard many times before.

“I know you thought that you’d have more time before this happened, but that’s your problem. You underestimated how much I care about you, or how much power I have. I doubt that you’re that stupid though, to think the latter,” Father went on pacing around her prone body. Jester stayed on the ground, trying to silence her wet breaths. His eyes made the back of her head burn but she didn’t dare look up. He preferred her face in the carpet she was sure.

‘You’re about the age when kids begin rebelling against their parents, so I understand why you purposely failed. It’s my job as your parent to let you know that this behavior is unacceptable though, and will not be tolerated. I’ve already proven by creating this holiday that I can bring you home whenever I want, as long as I want. Nothing has changed from when you went to Basics. You do as I say, or you’ll be punished. I’ll make this lesson memorable so you’ll never forget it,” and with that final word he kicked her in the ribs again, and again, stepping forward whenever he made her body roll away from him. When he tired of that he pulled her to her feet by her hair and dragged her to the kitchen and slammed her head on the table. When he finally let her hair go she collapsed to the floor seeing double. She could hear him walking away and grabbing something off the counter before his four feet came into her confused vision. He lifted up the bottom of her shirt exposing her stomach.

“A reminder to help you remember this lesson,” he whispered to her gently before carving into her skin with a knife. When she tried to scream he covered her mouth with his right hand and leaned his weight on it to keep him steady. It had all been too much, the pain, fear, and Jester blacked out.

The rest of the holiday she spent confined to her room. A family doctor with a strong healing power came and mended her broken ribs but left the bruises and sliced skin. Her stomach was wrapped in bandages so she couldn’t see what Father had done to her. Father came in her room and made sure that she understood that all these injuries she had came from falling down the stairs, and that no one would see them when she went back to school. Jesse fretted over her at first but Mother was taking advantage of every second she could, to be with him, leaving Jester alone. Father bought her one meal a day with a smile and a comment about how he was glad that he got this out of the way before Jester had done any real damage. How her little act of rebellion could actually make his plans easier in the end.

* * *

The ride to school Jester had been silent. She didn’t speak the entire day. Now, in the dark dorm room she sat alone. Her stomach throbbed. She lifted up her top and traced her finger along the places where it hurt the worse. The lines of pain came together in her mind and she realized that he had etched the number fifteen, her section, into her. Fifteen would be with her forever. This dark broken place was hers now, and she could never be rid of it.

#learn to be #TW child abuse #tw violence #tw dissociation #tw carving #tw victim blaming #writeblr

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robinrunsfiction · 4 years

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'Cause Heaven Knows What You Do To Me

Pairing: Ryan Seaman x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: None Word Count: 4,100 Author’s Note: When I was going through prompts for the Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge, I found the prompt “No one should be alone on New Years Eve” and about that same time Ryan posted an insta story of a hotel room in Vegas that he was staying in before a show and that leads us to this story. I hope you like it and have a wonderful new year! (also I have to say I can’t get over how wonderful he looks in the mood board below ok bye)

“Hey (YN), I was wondering what you’re doing for New Years Eve?” Ryan asked when (YN) answered the phone.

“Nothing, why?” (YN) asked suspiciously.

“Wondering if you wanna come along to our show in Vegas. The room is being comped by the hotel because of the show, all you have to do is pack a bag,” Ryan offered.

“But it’s New Years Eve in Vegas, doesn’t that just sound… overwhelming?” (YN) sighed.

“We don’t have to go out, we can just hang out with Dal and Breezy. Come on (YN), what other plans do you have for New Years Eve?” Ryan asked.

“None,” (YN) grumbled.

“No one should be alone on New Year’s Eve, so it’s settled,” Ryan said and (YN) could have sworn she could hear his smile through the phone and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fine, but promise me that we won’t get drunk and get married at a drive-thru chapel.”

“I promise, I won’t get you drunk enough to want to marry me,” Ryan laughed, but what (YN) didn’t realize was Ryan was running his hand over his face wearily as he paced his kitchen.

What Ryan didn’t know was (YN) had immediately regretted saying what she did and was cringing hard. “So I guess just send me the flight itinerary and stuff then?” she asked trying to change the subject.

“Yea, I’ll send that over and I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Can’t wait,” (YN) smiled before saying goodbye. When she hung up, she rolled over on her couch and buried her face in a pillow and screamed. A paid trip to Vegas with the guy she’d been crushing on for years at New Years? She wasn’t entirely sure she could handle it. She and Ryan had always had a flirty kind of friendship. The little compliments they gave each other, touches on an arm, hand on the lower back in a crowd, attending events together because who else would they call? It seemed natural that he would ask her to come along on this trip, but that didn't make it any less intimidating.

Anxiety over the trip built over the following days, but on the morning of December 31st, (YN) woke up feeling surprisingly calm. She had packed a few outfits that she would feel confident wearing, and run over every possible scenario of things that could happen on this trip, which ranged from the most likely series of events (seeing the show with Breezy, going out to eat after with everyone, then retiring back to the room with Ryan to separate beds after ringing in the New Year with a responsibly consumed drink), to the least likely (an absolutely debauched, booze fueled, all-night rager that definitely included a hot tub and lots of sexy times with Ryan in said hot tub). But every time that idea popped into her head, she shooed it away, it was too much and ridiculous.

The flight to Vegas was short, but (YN) and Ryan had a ton of fun together as they always did. When they arrived at the hotel, (YN) was a little blown away, she’d been to Vegas before, but hadn’t stayed someplace this nice. Ryan went to the desk to check in, as (YN) wandered through the lobby. She glanced over at Ryan when she realized it was taking a while to check in. He ran his hand through his brown hair, and looked over at her.

“They only have a king bed room available,” Ryan said when (YN) came over.

“Oh, umm, I mean that’s ok with me,” (YN) replied, hoping it wasn’t noticeable that she was blushing.

“If you’re ok with it,” Ryan shrugged, trying to appear casual.

“Ok then, let’s get up there before you guys have to get to sound check,” (YN) smiled.

When they got up to the room, they were both blown away by how modern and cool the room was. (YN) managed to ignore the elephant in the room that was the king size bed, but then she spotted the hot tub in the bathroom and the steamy thoughts threatened to creep back into her mind.

“Oh shit,” she muttered shaking her head.

“Hmm?” Ryan asked.

“Nothing,” she smiled nervously. “I think I forgot something, but I'll manage. Did you see this view?” She asked walking up to the balcony doors.

Ryan came up next to her, standing a little closer than normal. “Yea the room is really nice. Well except for the bed thing.”

(YN) felt a pang of hurt go through her heart. “Yea,” she replied without looking up.

Ryan instantly knew he had said the wrong thing. He didn't mind the idea of sharing the bed with (YN), but he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable either. Just as he was about to open his mouth to clarify, his phone went off. It was the band's manager letting them know they had to head to soundcheck.

In the meantime, (YN) met up with Breezy in the lobby and they decided to grab coffee and walk around before heading to the venue for the show.

"So when did you and Ryan finally start going out?" Breezy asked as they stepped out of the coffee shop.

(YN) nearly choked on the iced coffee she was sipping. "What? No, we're just friends."

"Oh sorry, I just assumed since he brought you along and…" she trailed off.

"And?" (YN) pressed.

Breezy sighed. "You just seem to really be into each other."

It was (YN)'s turn to sigh. "Yea, but I don't think it's really something that's gonna happen. I mean, you'd think it woulda happened by now if it was gonna."

"Maybe the you guys just need a push, or to let the stars align, or just take advantage of being someplace new for a fresh perspective."

(YN) laughed. "You seem really invested in this."

"I just think I'm right and you guys just need to see what's in front of your faces" Breezy smiled knowingly.

(YN) and Breezy watched from the side of the stage as the band played their set with their usual gusto. IDKHow's set was in the middle of a day long musical festival with artists of all different genres. The concert was absolutely amazing, and the crowd was into the band, even though they weren't the biggest band performing, but to the four of them, the best part was the fact that their set was done by 7 PM.

(YN) loved watching Ryan play, the energy and enthusiasm he put into it was incredible and she could feel herself grinning the whole time. Ryan had spotted (YN) at the side of the stage and kept shooting smiles her way. He loved having her there and all he could think about as he played his heart out was that he wished she could be at every show.

“That was awesome, I swear you guys get better every time I see you play!” (YN) exclaimed when they came off stage.

“Thanks (YN),” Dallon beamed.

“We’re gonna go up and get ready while you guys get everything torn down and grab showers down here,” Breezy cut in before quickly whisking (YN) back upstairs.

“Do you wanna bring your stuff over to our room and we can get ready together?” Breezy asked as they rode the elevator up.

“Sounds like fun,” (YN) replied as the doors opened on their floor.

A while later, Breezy and (YN) were putting on the final touches to their hair and makeup as Dallon returned.

“Ready for a night out- woah! Babe you look incredible!” He grinned when Breezy stepped out of the bathroom, she had changed into black leather leggings and a sparkly green top. He took her hand and spun her around before pulling her into a kiss.

“Thank you love, but you should see (YN), she went all out!” Breezy replied when she pulled back.

“I think it’s too much!” (YN) called from the bathroom. She was tugging at her outfit and checking her makeup closely in the mirror. She was worried she had picked too flashy of an outfit since she didn’t know where they were going.

“No it’s not, come on out,” Breezy reassured her. Just then there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Dallon said.

(YN) stepped out of the bathroom just as Dallon let Ryan into the room. When Ryan saw (YN) in her short black sequin covered dress and black tuxedo jacket he could have sworn his heart stopped. He always thought she was beautiful, and he had seen her dressed up before, but tonight she took his breath away like never before.

“Wow, (YN),” Ryan started, a dopey grin spreading across his face. “You look amazing.”

“Yea, you look fantastic,” Dallon commented as Breezy beamed.

“Thanks,” (YN) said with a light laugh. “Now can we get going? I’m starving.”

Dallon ushered the group out and down the hall toward the elevator. Ryan offered (YN) his arm and she grinned as she linked her arm in his as they hurried down the hall.

"Wait, where are we going?" (YN) asked as they got in the elevator and Dallon pressed the up arrow.

"We got reservations at the rooftop restaurant," Dallon grinned.

"Seriously?" Breezy grinned and Dallon shrugged smugly.

"They're going all out for you guys tonight!" (YN) said, astonished.

"I think it's the best we've ever been treated," Ryan laughed as the doors opened on the top floor.

The restaurant was cozy and dimly lit with decor that had a vintage feel, but was still modern and fresh. The group was taken to a plush booth in the corner of the bustling restaurant with Dallon and Breezy sliding in on one side, and (YN) and Ryan on the other. The conversation flowed easily between friends as drinks and dinner were ordered.

“What are we going to do after this? Dancing?” Breezy asked, looking from Dallon to Ryan and (YN).

“Oooh yea,” (YN) grinned.

“Sure,” Ryan shrugged.

Dallon groaned at first, but a smile crept on his face. “I can’t say no to you,” he replied to his wife.

Everyone chuckled at Dallon concession as their food was brought out. (YN) wasn’t exactly sure when it happened, but at some point in the shuffle of plates being passed, she found her leg brush against Ryan’s under the table, and to her surprise he didn’t pull away from her. Emboldened, she also didn’t pull away from the hidden contact and even glanced over at him, giving him a sly smile that he returned, much to her delight.

At dinner, they got a recommendation from their waiter of a club that was a short walk from the hotel. When they arrived they were able to find a table and ordered another round of drinks and watched the crowd for a while.

When the DJ put on a new song, Breezy’s face lit up. “I love this song, let’s go dance!”

“I’ll go!” (YN) grinned, jumping up and peeling off her jacket before going out onto the dance floor.

“How’d we get so lucky?” Dallon asked, sitting back contentedly, long legs extending out in front of him.

“Hmm?” Ryan asked, his attention being pulled from (YN) on the dancefloor to his bandmate.

Dallon nodded toward the women. “How’d we get so lucky to get ladies like Breezy and (YN)?”

“But (YN) and I aren’t together,” Ryan said confused, feeling like he was starting to blush.

Dallon laughed. “Come on, you mean to tell me you don’t have feelings for (YN)?”

“Well yea, but-”

“Then make your move. She’s obviously into you too,” Dallon smiled.

Ryan ran his hand through his hair. “What if she’s not though and everything gets screwed up?”

“Ryan, I saw the way you two were looking at each other during the show. I know that look, it’s the same one Breezy gives me,” Dallon replied knowingly.

Ryan laughed and then sighed. “Yea, I mean… yea, I should, I know I should. It’s just… how do you know when it's the right time to take that chance?”

(YN) and Breezy were enjoying themselves on the dancefloor when a man approached them. “Hey ladies, how are we doing tonight?” He ogled.

Breezy simply held up her left hand, displaying her wedding ring in response. “Not interested.”

The guy turned to face (YN). “How ‘bout you Toots, you married too?”

(YN) laughed. “Well no, but-”

“Then come dance with me!”

“No thanks, I’m here with my friends.”

“Aw come on, just one song, it’s not like I’m asking you to come home with me.”

(YN) shook her head. “We just got here ok? Let us be for a while.”

The guy took a step forward, looming over (YN). She could hear Breezy saying her name, but she was frozen in place, suddenly intimidated by the stranger.

“Hey, is this guy bugging you?” (YN) heard the words and felt a protective arm wrap around her waist. She looked up at Ryan who was staring the guy down.

“Yea, like a lot,” (YN) replied.

“Leave them alone,” Ryan commanded and the guy threw his hands up in defeat before walking away.

“Thanks Ryan,” Breezy said with a weary smile.

“Why can’t the creeps just leave us alone?” (YN) rolled her eyes as the group collectively relaxed now that the stranger was gone.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” Ryan said so easily that he didn’t realize what had rolled off his tongue until he saw the stunned and amused look that Breezy was giving him.

(YN) laughed and covered her face with her hand to hide how much she was blushing. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Anyway, I love this song, can we please dance now?”

“Yes please!” Breezy said as she started moving to the music.

Ryan turned to go back to the table where Dallon was sitting, but (YN) grabbed his wrist. “Stay,” she said.

A smile crept across his face as his hands found her waist again as she moved her hips to the beat of the music. They had been to concerts together before, and therefore had danced together, but everything about this night felt different. (YN) draped her arms over his shoulders as they moved together to the rhythm of the music.

Neither was sure how many songs had played, only that they kept moving closer to each other. (YN) felt her heart pounding in her chest under Ryan's gaze as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. She felt like if she leaned in right then, he would have met her halfway.

But suddenly Ryan looked up, something grabbing his attention. (YN) turned and saw what he spotted. Dallon had come out onto the dance floor as well, but instead of dancing, he was saying something to Breezy, whose face was concerned.

“Dallon’s not feeling well, he’s got a really bad headache and kinda wants to go,” Breezy told (YN).

“Oh damn. Yea it’s loud and I bet that’s making it worse, we can go,” (YN) agreed.

“I’m sorry to ruin the night,” Dallon said rubbing his forehead wearily as soon as the group was outside the club, the bass still booming as they headed back toward the hotel.

“It’s fine, we understand,” Ryan said sympathetically. As they walked down the sidewalk, bustling with people on their way to their New Years celebrations, Ryan tried to decide if he should try to take (YN)’s hand the way Dallon held Breezy’s. Bu before he had made a decision they were already approaching the hotel and he realized he had missed his chance.

(YN) kicked off her heels as soon as she got into the hotel room. "That was so much fun," she laughed sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm so glad you convinced me to come with you."

"I'm really glad you agreed to come along," he smiled before taking a deep, nervous breath. "I just really love-"

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, interrupting Ryan. (YN) sighed as he went to answer it. She wanted to know so badly what he was about to say. Did he love her? Did he love Vegas? Was he about to confess his love of something, or someone, else altogether?

Ryan came back pushing a cart with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"Woah, where did that come from?"

"The note says ‘Sorry to cut the party short! Dallon and Breezy’.”

"Wow! Do we wanna wait until midnight to pop it open?"

"Sure," Ryan nodded, setting the note back down. "Um (YN), I was gonna say before, I really love being here with you and seeing that guy trying to get with you at the club… I just can't let any more time go by," he said rubbing the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes shut. As (YN) listened, her heart started pounding and her head spun. "I'm sorry if this makes things weird, but I'm crazy about you (YN)," Ryan said finally with a shrug, opening his eyes.

"Seriously?"

He nodded and ran his hands over his face. "I'm so sorry if this ruins everything between us, I thought-"

Ryan's rambling was cut off by (YN) standing up and closing the distance between them. "Ryan, I've had a crush on you for… years, I was just never sure you would feel the same way."

"How could I not? You're beautiful, and smart, and funny," he trailed off as her grin grew across her face. In that moment Ryan decided he had waited long enough. His hands found her waist and pulled her the rest of the distance between them.

(YN) looked up at him, one hand resting on his arm, the other on his chest. "Kiss me," she breathed and that was all it took for his lips to crash against hers. She gripped at his shirt as if it were a lifeline with one hand, as other found its way to his brown hair.

His kiss was full of longing, of hours spent laying awake at night never fathoming that this moment could really happen. And in case it never happened again, he wanted to remember every moment of it. How her lips felt against his, how her waist felt under his hands, the sounds that escaped her lips as he moved down to kiss her neck.

Ryan pulled back as he reached up and brushed the jacket off her shoulders and (YN) let it fall to the ground at her feet. She pulled him back in as she took a step back toward the bed, and he followed, barely breaking contact with her lips as she crawled up the bed and he followed, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

(YN) deepened the kiss by letting his tongue slip against hers. She ran a hand through his hair as his hand ghosted down her side to rest on her hip, his other arm holding him up. He then began to again trace kisses down her jaw, back to her neck until he found a spot that made her moan lightly as he kissed it, a sound he decided he would never grow tired of hearing.

(YN) hadn't had a proper make out in what felt like years, but this moment with Ryan was more than she could have ever hoped for. Any doubt that clouded her mind about his feelings for her vanished when his lips met hers, the longing and caring she felt from him was incredible. The way he kept his hands on her, as if she might slip away, tugged at her heart because she knew there was nowhere else she could possibly want to be.

(YN) and Ryan were suddenly started by a loud bang outside the hotel room. They jumped apart as they looked at each other, confused.

"What was that?" Ryan asked breathlessly.

(YN) pushed the pillows away as she looked back at the bedside clock. "Fireworks, because it's midnight," she beamed.

"Oh yea," he laughed before leaning in to kiss her again. "Happy New Year (YN)."

"Happy New Year, Ryan. Do you want to open that bottle of champagne now?"

"Sure," he replied, getting up, and offering (YN) his hand to help her up.

"Do it off the balcony so you don't break anything in here," she laughed. They took a step out into the cold desert night and Ryan popped the cork off the bottle, launching it somewhere into the Sunset Strip. He poured each of them a glass before wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close. (YN) let her head rest back against his shoulder and sighed contentedly as they watched the fireworks in the distance.

After they were done, Ryan pressed a kiss to the top of (YN)'s head as she yawned. "I'm suddenly realizing how tired I am. It's been kind of a long day."

"You're right, wanna go to bed?"

(YN) nodded sleepily as they went back inside.

The next morning, (YN) woke up with her head on Ryan's chest. He had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. When he noticed her starting to stir, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she looked up at him with sleepy eyes.

"Morning beautiful," he murmured.

"Morning," she mumbled and Ryan couldn't help but smile at how cute she was when she was still half asleep. "What time is it?"

"Just after nine," he replied looking at his phone.

"I guess I was tired," she said, hiding her face against the crook of his neck and she heard him laughing a little as well.

"Dallon and Breezy were wondering if we wanna get brunch with them before we gotta catch our flights."

"Yea, sounds good," (YN) replied as she stretched, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them and looked back up at Ryan, he was looking back at her adoringly.

"What?" She giggled.

"I'm just thinking about how lucky I am. It's like the stars finally aligned for us."

(YN) leaned in for a long, languid kiss. "This year is gonna be the best yet," she murmured.

A couple hours later, Ryan and (YN) met up with Dallon and Breezy for brunch at another restaurant in the expansive hotel. Although no one dared to draw attention to it, the other couple was very excited to see Ryan and (YN) arriving hand in hand and quickly noticed the energy between them was different. The brunch was delightful, with everyone talking about their plans and hopes for the new year.

"Hey, I'm gonna run to the bathroom, (YN)?" Breezy asked.

"Oh sure, I'll come along," she smiled, getting up knowing exactly what she was in for.

"What happened?!" Breezy squealed as the door shut behind them.

"What do you mean?" (YN) replied coyly.

"You know what I mean," Breezy laughed. "You arrived holding hands and he's looking at you like you hung the moon, like more than normal."

"It was a really nice night," (YN) smiled and shrugged.

"Aww! I'm so happy for you two!" Breezy said while throwing her arms around her friend.

"I just hope this isn't just a vacation thing, ya know? Like when we get home, it's back to how we were before and it's like this never happened."

"I'm sure it won't be. He clearly adores you. I've been friends with him long enough to know."

After finishing their meals, everyone headed back to their rooms to finish packing. The reality that the whirlwind trip was almost over had finally hit and (YN) found herself feeling blue as doubts started to nag at her mind. She snapped shut her suitcase and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hey Ryan," (YN) started.

"Yea?"

"This isn't like just a 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' thing, right?"

Ryan looked up from his suitcase and saw the sadness in her eyes and it made his heart break a little. He sat down next to her on the bed, taking her hands and looking in her eyes. "No (YN), I'm all in for this, for us, if you are?"

"Yea,” she nodded. “I don't want this to end here. I've waited too long to throw it away now."

He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, smiling and caressing her cheek lovingly when they pulled back. "Come on, we got a flight to catch."

"Back to reality," she groaned dramatically.

"We'll have to come back here sometime when we have more time. Maybe actually use the hot tub," Ryan suggested and (YN) couldn't help but grin.

#ryan seaman x reader #ryan seaman fanfic #ryan seaman fan fiction #ryan seaman imagine #idkhow fanfic #idkhow fanfiction #idkhow x reader #idkhow imagine #ryan seman x reader #ryan seaman fan fic #idkhow fan fic #idkhow fan fiction

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saccharii · 5 years

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Todofam Month, Day Twelve: What if...

Human Disaster Social Worker Touya

AO3 Link

Todofam Month masterpost

@todofammonth

heads up, dad might try to contact you

Touya stared blearily at his phone and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He reread the text, trying to make sense of it. He checked the sender again. It had to be some wrong number, right? Nope. It still said Natsuo.

Maybe he was still asleep?

It was not something he ever expected to wake up to. A text asking him to come in to work early, sure. Or maybe a firm reminder of the next family dinner from Fuyumi. A booty-call text from Hawks would be a pleasant morning surprise.

But not heads up, dad might try to contact you

More than five years had passed since Touya talked to his father. He couldn’t even remember the last thing they said to each other. Hell, when was the last time they saw each other? Maybe a month before he’d packed his things and left...?

Touya shook the thoughts out of his head.

What? Why? he texted back.

The “...” bubble popped up, disappeared, and popped up again. The phone rang and Touya answered it without thinking.

“Hey,” Natsuo said before Touya could say anything. “The old man’s apparently trying to ‘mend bridges’ or some garbage. He he kept going on and on about how becoming the number one hero put things in perspective. Yesterday, came home early when I was visiting Fuyumi and Shouto and I got the pleasure of his company. I wanted to warn you he might try to ambush you too.”

Touya scrunched up his face. None of this made any sense.

“You sure it’s him and not the bodysnatchers or something?”

“Pretty sure. He’s just as much an ass as always.”

“You might want to check the basement for pods, just in case.”

Natsuo snorted

Touya yawned and stretched, nearly knocking over one of the many half full cups of water on his nightstand.

“It’s too early for this. I just woke up.”

“It’s ten. Don’t you have work?”

“Not until eleven. I’m working a half shift. It’s paperwork day.”

“That’s good? I guess? Don’t answer any unknown numbers.”

“I can’t do that.” Touya threw his arm over his eyes. Why did sunlight have to be so bright? “I have to answer any calls I get because of work. Emergency situations or whatever.”

Natsuo hummed sympathetically. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. Actually... do you have his number? I could block it now.”

“Nope.”

Touya groaned. Of course. Nothing could ever be easy. “I guess I’ll just have to hope he can’t get my number. Or maybe he’ll forget I exist.”

Natsuo laughed. “If only. At least he doesn’t know where you live.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Touya said. “He could probably find me if he wanted.”

It was an abuse of power to use hero resources to track someone down without a warrant, but when had Endeavor ever cared about shit like that?

He pushed himself up and squinted at the clock. “I better get out of bed and get ready. I have to be at work in an hour and I haven’t eaten or showered or anything.”

“Isn’t your work a half hour away?”

“Yup.”

“Good luck with that,” Natsuo said. “I’ll see you later.”

Touya hung up and rolled over, pulling the blankets around him. Maybe he could get away with sleeping for another fifteen minutes.

“We received a complaint about you.”

Touya nodded. People complained about him all the time. It turned out some people thought that piercings and badly dyed hair where ‘unprofessional.’ The more traditional parents didn’t like his casual speech and attitude. Whatever. He wasn’t using keigo just because some asshole waste-of-space parents thought that a lowly social worker should bow down to them. (Endeavor had drilled keigo into all of his children’s heads. Touya knew the proper way to respond in any formal situation. He took great pleasure not doing that.)

“So what is it this time?”

“According to the complaint,” she said, scanning the papers in front of her. “When told of a teen’s disrespectful behavior you said, and I quote, ‘Hell yeah, stick it to the man’ then high fived her.”

Touya grinned. “Oh yeah! I remember that. I liked that kid. She’s got guts.”

His boss pinched the top of her nose. “You can’t just say things like that, Todoroki. I know you connect well with troubled teenagers, I’m not sure if it’s because of your age or your casual attitude, but you have to retain some professionalism.”

Touya snorted, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Troubled teen.’ Ha, she had plenty of troubles alright—two pieces of garbage who called themselves her parents.

Only years of practice pretending not to give a shit kept him from blowing up at the sight of the girl’s split lip and dead eyed stare. It was a familiar sight for him: he’d seen it in the mirror enough times growing up.

“You know what grave sin she committed? She said ‘okay’ and rolled her eyes when they asked her to do something. What will that troublemaker do next? Breathe too loudly? It pisses me off.”

His boss’s gaze softened. “I understand your feelings. It frustrates me too, but you know why we can’t do anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Only ‘life threatening’ situations justified removal from a household. That was why no one did anything when he was a child, even when he showed up to school in bandages. It was why he couldn’t get Shouto out of the house even now, with all of his resources. All that shit he’d gone through—lying on the floor bruised and bleeding due to his father’s ‘training,’ unable to move until his mother scooped him up—felt pretty life threatening to him.

Getting Shouto out of that house was the whole reason he’d become a social worker in the first place.

The first time a kid from a ‘non life threatening situation’ on his watch died, he’d spent the entire month holed up in his room, dark thoughts swirling in his head, wondering if it would be better to burn the world down.

“Listen,” his boss said. “You’re good at your job, and I respect your judgement. But you have to show some propriety. For example... why are you wearing two different shoes?”

Touya flexed his right foot. It pinched his toes, but a shoe was a shoe. “When I was switching to my indoor shoes Amano bumped into me, and I dropped one out the window. A dog grabbed it and ran off. Ichihara lent me one of his spares. It’s a bit tight, but it mostly fits.”

His boss nodded slowly. “Right. And why didn’t you just wear both shoes?”

“...It didn’t occur to me?”

“The strangest things happen to you, Todoroki. You’re lucky I have a truth telling quirk. Otherwise I’d never believe you.”

Touya shrugged. It wasn’t his fault that these things kept happening to him. Okay, maybe a few of them were his fault, but the kangaroo thing and the time with the parade were out of his control.

“Todoroki!”

Touya jumped and nearly dropped his phone onto the mall’s dirty floor. A smiling, pink cheeked, brown haired girl skipped towards him. He opened his mouth to ask her who the hell she was, but she brushed past him before he could say anything.

Brow furrowed, he turned to see her approach... Shouto? The girl flounced up to his youngest brother and said something to him. Shouto responded and smiled. He smiled. What the hell was going on?

Two other teens, a black haired boy with glasses and a freckled green haired boy, flanked Shouto. They greeted the girl.

Shouto was hanging out with people? He was talking to them? Smiling at them? Did he have friends? When did that happen?

Without stopping to think about whether it was a good idea or not, Touya strode towards the small group of teenagers. One of them, Glasses, saw him coming and moved as if to intercept him. Touya sidestepped the boy and made a beeline for his brother.

“Hey! Shouto!”

Shouto startled and whipped his head around, eyes wide. “Wha-? Touya? What are you doing here?”

“Buying new shoes. Are these your friends? Holy shit, do you have friends now? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Shouto turned bright red. “You’re one to talk.”

“Um.” Freckles looked back and forth between the two of them. “You are...?”

“He’s my brother, Touya. And yes, these are my friends.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” The brown haired girl put a finger on her cheek and tilted her head. It was kind of adorable.

The three teens not so subtly eyed him. Touya knew what they were thinking. With black dyed hair, red showing through at the roots, multiple piercings, and a grungy leather jacket, he didn’t look like someone related to his prissy looking little brother. He loved Shouto, but honestly he embodied Rich Kid Aesthetic.

“He’s got two of them. Why didn’t you tell your friends about us? Are you ashamed of me and Natsuo?” Touya realized his mistake as soon as he saw the stricken expression on Shouto’s face. No matter how many times they told him that they didn’t resent him, it remained a sore spot. “I’m just kidding. So, friends, huh? I’m proud of you.”

Glasses cleared his throat and stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Iida Tenya and-”

“I know you.” Touya snapped his fingers and pointed at Freckles. “You’re the kid with the hands. Midori something.”

Shouto groaned and covered his face with his hands. He looked just like Fuyumi when he did that.

“Um, yeah, I’m Midoriya.” Midoriya held up his gnarled, scarred hands, and stared at them with a furrowed brow, like he had never seen them before. “I do have hands.”

“I thought Shouto would never have friends. First day of middle school he made some kid cry. He didn’t even mean to. He just said, ‘Why would I want to be friends with you?’ and stared him down.”

Shouto turned an even deeper shade of red, almost purple, and scowled. “Okay, that’s enough.” He pushed Touya bodily away from his friends. “Time to go. It was good seeing you. Goodbye.”

“I was just-”

“Good. Bye.” he said, pushing harder.

“I was just being honest. It’s a compliment. I was congratulating you.”

“I’m going to get my revenge,” Shouto hissed, low enough his friends couldn’t hear. “Just you wait. I’m going to humiliate you.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going. Try not to be too weird and drive them off.”

“I don’t need your advice. It’s not like you have any friends.” Shouto gave him one final push, sending him stumbling. “Don’t ever talk to me again.” He stomped back to the other teens.

“See you next week!” Touya called back.

“What on earth is that?”

Touya hefted himself off the couch onto his elbows to see what Fuyumi was talking about.

“That’s my backpack.”

“It’s got Pokemon on it, and it’s covered in coffee stains.”

“It was on clearance for a hundred yen. And that’s Detective Pikachu, I’ll have you know. It’s a good game.”

Fuyumi shoved his legs out of the way so she could sit down next to him. “Why do you have to sprawl out all over the couch?”

Touya groaned and dragged himself up into a reclining position. He pushed his feet against Fuyumi’s legs, and she swatted his knees.

“I don’t have a couch at my place and this one is comfortable.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Other people have to sit too, Touya. Please tell me you don’t take that bag with you to work.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Fuyumi rubbed her eyes underneath her glasses. “You’re supposed to be a professional. You’re an adult now. You need to set an example for the children you work with. You need to set an example for Shouto.”

“What does a backpack have to do with that?”

The microwave dinged. Hell yeah, food time. Touya hopped to his feet and jogged into the kitchen. He pulled the hot pocket out of the microwave and took it back into the living room.

“Is that a hot pocket? Where did you get that? We don’t keep those in the house.”

“I brought it with me.” He gestured to his hoodie pocket, and sunk back down into the couch.

It had been pretty awkward to walk around with a frozen pastry in his pocket, to be honest. It was probably something most people didn’t do. He knew he sometimes did things that others found strange, but he had a hard time telling apart what was weird and what was normal. He usually relied on people’s reaction to figure out if he was being strange or offensive. Judging by Fuyumi’s horrified expression, carrying around a frozen microwaveable meal in your pocket was not normal.

He took a large bite and promptly burned his tongue.

“Ow!” He fanned his mouth.

“Serves you right. You should eat healthier.”

“Why are these things always too hot or too cold?”

“Did you follow the directions?”

“Yes- well, no. I’ve never read the directions.”

He held the package up to eye level. “Oh. You’re supposed to let it sit for two minutes. Hmm... ‘Enjoy with a serving of fresh fruit or veggies.’ Hah! Even they know that their food is nutritional garbage.”

“Maybe you should cut out the middle part and just eat a serving of fruit and vegetables.”

“But that takes effort. You have to wash the vegetables, then cut them up, then cook them. Then you eat them off the plate and after that you have to wash the dishes. It’s just not worth the hassle.”

“Touya, they have bags of salad you can buy and eat with no prep. You can get frozen vegetable stir fry packets, too.”

“But you still have to cook them and do the dishes.”

Fuyumi clasped her hands together and raised them to her lips like she was praying to god for strength. She did that a lot when Touya was around.

“You are going to die of malnutrition. You can come over anytime you want. We have a home cooked meal every night, and we’d love to see you.”

“Yeah, but then I’d have to see Endeavor. Hard pass.”

“He’s been doing better,” she said, picking at the afghan draped over the arm of the couch. “He wants to do right by us. He asked about you.”

“Sure he does. You didn’t give him my information, did you?”

“Of course not! I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Good. I can’t stay tonight anyway. I have a date,” he said as casually as he could, like he wasn’t internally freaking out.

Fuyumi’s eyes lit up. “You have a date? That’s great! I didn’t know you met someone.”

“I already knew him. One of my fuckbuddies is interested in trying for something more.”

She grimaced. “Please. I never want to hear you say ‘fuckbuddy’ again.”

Just as the word ‘fuckbuddy’ came out of her mouth, Shouto entered the room, stopped, turned around, and walked back out.

Touya burst into laughter.

“Oh god,” Fuyumi whimpered, sinking down into the couch and covering her bright red face with her hands. “I can’t believe he heard me say that.”

“Poor kid.”

The front door slammed open and shut, and heavy, thudding footsteps stomped toward the living room. Touya knew those footsteps. He hadn’t heard them in over five years, but every atom in his body knew what they meant.

He jolted to his feet, sending the hot pocket packet tumbling to the ground and crumbs scattering.

“Oh, he’s home early,” Fuyumi said.

“What the fuck. I thought he was in Hokkaido all week.”

“No, that’s next week.”

Touya vaulted over the back of the couch, and threw himself flat on the ground. Just in time, too. Only moments later Endeavor entered the room.

“Fuyumi.”

“Welcome home, Father.”

“What was that noise, and why is the room a mess?” A pause. “Is that a child’s backpack?”

“Um.”

The floor creaked under Endeavor’s weight as he came closer and closer to the couch. Touya held his breath and tried not to move.

Endeavor, sans flame beard, (he had improved that much at least) leaned over the back of the couch, and stared down at his oldest son.

And so, the first thing Touya said to his estranged father whom he had neither seen nor spoken to in a half a decade was, “What’s up, fuckface?”

Touya arrived outside the cafe ten minutes late. Unsurprisingly, not many people were in the outdoor seating area. Only Hawks and one other person pretending, and failing, to not stare at Hawks. Most would consider it still too cold to eat outside. Not Touya, though.

When Hawks looked up from his phone and saw Touya he did a comical double take. He spluttered and wheezed, covering his mouth with both hands in a vain attempt to stifle his laughter. “Oh my god. What the hell happened to you?”

Touya plopped down on the (uncomfortable) wrought iron cafe chair across from Hawks and held up his now deep purple arm. “Work happened. There was a kid who couldn’t control her quirk yet. I tried to wash it off, but no dice. I came over as soon as I could.”

“The kid has a quirk that dyes people purple?”

“Just the skin and hair, but it lasts a few days.”

Hawks leaned forward and examined Touya’s face. “It even dyed your eyelashes. Wow.” He sat back in his chair. “And you came out for the date anyway despite the fact you look like an eggplant. I’m flattered.”

Touya shrugged. “I’ve had worse. One kid had a projectile vomit quirk.”

Hawks’ eyes lit up. “That’s so gross. Tell me more.”

“Not much to it. She was... six? I think? Anyway, she had two stomachs. One was normal, and the other was a sort of storage, I guess you’d call it. She could swallow items and store them in the second stomach, and later spit them out at high speed. Pretty dangerous, even when used right. She spit rocks through car windows a few times. The second stomach didn’t have any way to digest anything, or anywhere for whatever she swallowed to go.”

“I am loving where this is going.” Hawks gestured with his hand. “Please, continue.”

“Well—she ate some food and it went to the wrong stomach. She couldn’t digest it, so it went bad-

“Ew.”

“-and she got sick. When they realized it was a quirk mishap they called me and she-” Touya pantomimed vomiting. “All over me.”

“Disgusting.” Hawks laughed.

Touya shook his head. “It’s probably the worse quirk mishap I’ve had. Some others are close, though. What about you? You must’ve come across some strange quirks and situations.”

Hawks leaned back and tapped his black, talon-like fingernails on the table. “There was a mugger who had some sort of subspace pocket in her boobs that she was keeping all the loot. We had to reach in and fish it all out. Not gross, but awkward. One woman sweated slime and left a large trail behind her. She wasn’t too hard to track down. Oh! Once, I had to apprehend a guy who farted fire. He-”

“What’s this?” Shouto appeared seemingly out of nowhere next to Hawks’ and Touya’s table. It took everything in Touya not to jump, but Hawks didn’t seem to be startled at all. “Touya, do you have a friend? Who would have thought.”

Shouto’s eyes glinted and his lips curled up into a smirk. Touya did not like what that expression promised.

“What are you doing here?” Touya ground out, glaring daggers at Shouto and doing his best to telepathically communicate fuck off.

His smirk widened, the little shit. “I was going to meet up with one of my friends, but then I saw you and thought I’d say hi. Wait, are you on a date? How did you manage that? I’m so proud of you.”

Hawks looked back and forth between the two of them and furrowed his brow. “You two know each other?”

“We’re brothers,” Touya said.

“What?” Hawks’ eyes widened. He pointed at Shouto. “But you’re Endeavor’s son. So does that make you-” He pointed at Touya. “-Endeavor’s son, too?”

“Yes,” Shouto said. “You didn’t know?”

Hawks hummed contemplatively and looked at Touya. “I just realized I never knew your family name. I probably should have asked earlier. It’s been, what, six months now?”

Touya shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t know your real name either.”

“It’s Yuuoh Sora, nice to meet you.” Hawks saluted and Touya returned it.

“You’ve known each other six months and you only now learned each other’s names?” Shouto asked incredulously. “Is that normal? I don’t know anything about dating, but I don’t think that’s normal. Were you really going to date someone whose name you didn’t know?”

“Yup,” Touya said.

Hawks snapped his fingers and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hand. “So what was it like growing up with Endeavor as a dad? Pretty cool, yeah?”

“No,” Touya and Shouto said coldly at the same time.

Hawks jerked back slightly. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“There is,” Touya said curtly.

Hawks looked back and forth between the two brothers, but they didn’t elaborate.

“What do you even see in Touya? He’s a mess.” Shouto raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “He used to eat toothpaste out of the tube, like it was candy. Mom had to lock it up.”

“Shouto...” Touya growled.

“One time,” he said solemnly to Hawks, “he glued his lips closed with superglue. When they took him to the doctor the nurse had to run to the hardware store to buy solvent.”

“The label was in Korean!” Touya protested. “It’s not my fault that chapstick and gluesticks look so much alike.”

Touya wondered how Shouto even knew about that. It was a few years after the fiery bag of dicks isolated Shouto from everyone, and he doubted that Endeavor even knew about it, and if he did he certainly wouldn’t have told Shouto.

It was probably Natsuo. He’d find that funny. Then again, Fuyumi had a mean sense of humor from time to time. (It happened long after Mom was committed, so no way she knew about it.)

“You’re currently purple.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

“See? A mess,” Shouto said to Hawks

But Hawks just smiled. “I feel like I can relax and be myself around him without pretense, you know? I don’t have to worry if I’m funny enough or charming enough. It doesn’t matter if I do or say something embarrassing.” He tilted his head to the side. “If you ever find someone like that hang onto them and don’t let them go, whether or not it’s romantic.”

Touya’s cheeks heated and he beat down the bubbly feeling rising inside him. He turned his head to the side so he wouldn’t have to look directly at Hawks, or Shouto for that matter.

“...I guess I understand,” Shouto said slowly.

His phone dinged. He took it out of his pocket, his face impassive until he saw whatever the text said. He swore.

“I have to go. I told Ochako I’d meet her for sushi five minutes ago.”

He stuffed his phone back in his back pocket and jogged down the street toward the kaitenzushi place. (Endeavor would lose his shit if he knew his precious youngest son was dining in such a cheap place. Touya approved.)

“Ochako, huh?” he mused under his breath.

How kind of Shouto to give him material for his own revenge.

Touya stretched, and his back popped. He kicked away the tangled sheets at the end of the bed. Hawks moved away slightly, then cuddled back up to him once he got settled, their sweaty skin sticking together in spots. He picked a few loose, downy red feathers off of Touya’s chest.

He snickered.

“What is it?” Touya asked.

“When your brother asked what I see in you, it took all of my strength not to say your dick piercing.”

Touya groaned. “It’s a good thing you didn’t. Shouto wouldn’t get that it’s a joke and he’d repeat it to someone.”

Hawks buried his face in Touya’s neck, and Touya could feel his smile against his (still purple) skin.

---

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee.

#todofammonth #todofam month #bnha fanfiction #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #todoroki siblings #todoroki family #dabihawks #dabi is todoroki touya #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #todoroki enji #bnha hawks #hawks

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lockedwithloki · 5 years

Text

Something To Hold On To

ENDGAME SPOILERS!

DON’T TELL ME THAT I DIDN’T WARN YOU!

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader

Requested: yes

summary (as requested): Hey 🤗 can I maybe get a Steve Rogers x stark!reader one? Were she’s another daughter of Tony, he kept away from the Team and she’s at his funeral and Steves falling for her 😬 so he stays pretty please 😍😍

Author’s note: Any type of feedback is appreciated. Also the requests are still open, I just need time to write!

ONE LAST WARNING

THIS FANFIC INCLUDES SOME HUGE SPOILERS

THANK YOU

Now enjoy <3

She woke, shivering, in the dark of the night. She had fallen asleep for only a few hours waking up again from a new nightmare. She knew that she was going to have those for a while, like the last time she lost a loved one, her mother. And now that her father, Tony Stark, had sacrificed his life for the whole universe, she had no one left from her old life.

She got up from bed walking to the bathroom to wash her face. One look at the mirror was enough. A pair of tired, red eyes was staring back at her. She couldn’t recognize herself. She looked older than she actually was. Pain didn’t suit her well. All the regrets were written all over her face. She regretted not spending more time with her father. Not fighting more to be his side, like she should have done in the first place. Tony Stark had decided that it would be better to keep her hidden from this part of his life, the superhero part. He had made many sacrifices for that part of his life and his daughter wouldn’t be one of them.

Returning back to her room she started getting ready for the funeral. An outfit was already on the chair and her bag was already prepared for the journey to the latest house her father had stayed at, the lake house, along with his wife Pepper and Y/N’s youngest sibling Morgan. She had prepared everything she needed, just to distract herself.

The sky was still dark when she started driving. It calmed her down somehow. She felt less lonely. The sound of music and the cool breeze that came through the window helped her stay awake. She kept thinking about the last time she drove to the lake house. It was just a week before everything went down. Little did she know that it was the last time they were all together. At least it was a happy one.

The sun was already out by the time she arrived. She saw many people already there. People she recognized because Stark was always talking about them and well the whole world was talking about them. She stopped the car and just sat there for a while, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with her father dead. Was she supposed to go out and say “Hi, I am Y/N Stark. I am the 26 year old daughter of Tony Stark. He kept me away from the world just to keep me safe, but he really respected all of you”. She didn’t know what to do. Maybe Pepper did.

She got out of the car hoping that she could just stay invisible to everyone. But her little sister had other plans. She was the first on to notice her and she felt safer with her big sister there so she ran to her yelling her name. Y/N was getting desperate so she looked around trying to figure out if anyone noticed her. Everyone had, they were wondering who she was. Only three people knew who she was, Pepper, Happy and Peter. “Who is she?” she heard and the voice felt familiar to her. She had heard it too many times over the phone the times her father was with the Avengers. It was Steve Rogers. She liked thinking that he was a some kind of a best friend for Tony.

Their gazes met for a second and she felt a knot on her stomach, just like Steve did. Maybe they just needed a distraction from the reason they were there. A time to catch their breaths and they found it in each other’s eyes. The moment was soon lost when Morgan reached Y/N. She immediately wrapped her arms around her little sister feeling like she was going to start crying soon. “How are you my love?” she pulled back and when she saw how upset Morgan was she almost lost it. Morgan was young, she couldn’t understand many things but she was missing her dad, that she could understand.

“Fine, now that you’re here” she replied “Daddy said he loves us 3000″.

“I know he does! And he always will” she told her whipping a small tear. “Come on let’s find mum” holding hands they walked to where Pepper was, and she was with a bunch of people and Y/N couldn’t greet anyone in the state she was at. Pepper noticed them soon and gave them a sad smile.

“Y/N” she exhaled and hugged the girl she cared for like she was her own daughter. “I was worried when you didn’t pick up your phone, and we have to start”

“I’m sorry, I was just driving” she replied and she noticed Peter sitting alone on a bench looking heartbroken. “I’ll be right back. I’m sorry I didn’t help with the preparations” she said and disappeared.

She wanted to speak to him. Peter was the first superhero who officially had met Y/N. Tony didn’t really plan on it, it was an accident he couldn’t fix, so he threat the poor boy to keep it a secret. And surprisingly he did. Y/N was hoping deep inside that he wouldn’t. She was tired of being kept away from everyone. She wanted the full package as Tony Stark’s/Iron Man’s daughter. But it didn’t really matter anymore. “Hello Peter” she said sitting next to him. “I’m glad there is someone I can talk to”.

“Y/N” he smiled when he saw her, but it was not his usual smiles. He wasn’t able to control his emotions. “I’m so sorry Y/N”.

“I just need to know. Did he suffer for long?” she said feeling her eyes getting teary again.

Peter shook his head “No. It was only a moment. He saved us all Y/N. He didn’t deserve this”.

“I know” was all she replied and got up. It was the time for the funeral.

Everyone who had ever worked with her father was there. Every person that cared for and respected him. Y/N was standing at the front along with Pepper and Morgan, holding her sister’s hand. “Someone should say something” she whispered at Pepper. “I want to do it”

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” she asked Y/N feeling like it would be better to keep her identity hidden, like Tony wanted from the start. “Your dad wouldn’t like it”.

“Dad isn’t here” she replied and walked in the side taking a deep breath. Steve Rogers was the first one to notice her. He felt the need to head her way and learn who she was. “Excuse me” she said as loud as possible and everyone turned to look at her way, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar. “I would like to say some words” she paused, like she was waiting for someone to stop her, but nobody did. “Most of you don’t know me. I’m Y/N. Y/N Stark. My father, Tony Stark, wanted to keep me away from your world, he tried to protect me. And even if I didn’t agree with him, I want to thank him. I know that it might come at shock for you. You don’t know me, but I love my father. I will never get used to him not being with us. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. But what am I saying? Sacrifices have a price to be paid and we should all be forever thankful for what he did. Don’t let the second chance you got go to waste” she wasn’t sure that else to say so she walked away with a small nod to everyone. The whole time she was talking her eyes was on Steve. She found an unknown type of comfort on his eyes, one she needed to find the strength to speak.

This time she walked away from everyone, needed a moment, so she took a scroll by the lake. “I can’t do this dad. I don’t know how. All this time I was disconnected from the world, or a part of it. And now I don’t know how to continue. You always knew that I couldn’t do this on my own.” her thoughts were running wild. “Give me something to hold on to” she whispered and it was like her father heard her.

“Wait up” she heard a voice calling and saw a figure trying to catch up with her.

“For a super soldier you sure walk very slow” she tried to joke. She didn’t feel the need introduce herself. She knew who he was and he knew who she was.

“For an ordinary human you sure walk fast. Not that there is anything ordinary about you. You are Tony’s secret daughter” he replied and this time he was walking by her side.

Y/N slowed down at his comment and glanced at him. “Why are you following me Mr Rogers?” she asked, catching a flirty tone on her tone and quickly tried to cover it. She was at her father’s funeral after all. “Did the others make you learn more about ‘Tony’s secret daughter’?”

“No, you just seemed like you could use the company” he answered honestly and with the same honesty she gave him a smile. “I’m truly sorry for your loss”

“We’ve all lost something important to us. Now we need to find a way to move forward” she replied and they kept walking together. They kept talking for a while. Sharing their thoughts. It was easy for them to keep the conversation roll. Steve had just met her, but Y/N knew him from her father’s words. A part of her wanted to get to know him from a new perspective that time.

“I should get back, Pepper might need help with something” she said after a moment of silence. “But I would love to see you again. It was nice hearing all these stories about my father. He never shared any of the embarrassing ones with me” she said. “And honestly, your company is quite nice”.

Steve looked at her surprised. A part of him wished that she hadn’t said that. He already had second thoughts about getting on with his plan from the moment he led eyes on her. “I would love that” he said and he meant every word. Maybe he just needed to find a way to move forward, not backwards.

A while later when Steve was getting ready to return back the stones in their own time, he kept thinking about Y/N. They hadn’t talked since the funeral. “Maybe it was just my idea”, he thought and decided to go on with his plan to return back in his own time line, the one his first love existed. Little did he know that in the exact same moment Y/N was thinking about him, trying to find an excuse to see him again. She came up with nothing so she decided to be forward, like she always was.

I would like to see you again.

That was the only thing she typed. That was also the only thing that Steve needed to keep him there. And he did just that. He made a new plan in his head. One that would help him and the person of interest, Y/N, move forward.

So he returned the stones, came back, gave his shield to one of his closest friends and started a normal life.

When he came back from his time travel journey Y/N was already waiting for him, next to his motorcycle. When Steve saw her a smile was painted on his face. "I thought we could ride this sweet creature" she said caressing the motorcycle's leather seat. "I could drive" she shrugged innocently.

"I'm sorry but no" he said putting a helmet on her head and climbed on the bike.

"Someday I won't need your permission" she followed his lead and put her arms around him. Not out of fear, but she did crave for the feeling of his body against her.

"I can't wait for that day" he replied and started driving and for the first time he felt like he belong in that world.

Y/N was smiling through the whole ride, it was the first time she felt like everything would work out just fine. That even if her father wasn't there he had given her the chance to be happy. He had given her something to hold on to.

#marvel #avengers #captain america #marvel masterlist #marvel x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans #steve rogers x reader #stark!reader #captain america imagine #stark!daughter #tony stark #captain america masterlist #steve rogers imagines #marvel imagine #steve rogers x stark!reader #avengers imagine #mcu

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mylifeasevelyn · 4 years

Text

Orphan

Hello dear stranger, it’s me, Evelyn. Yeah, it’s been a long time... I’ve written a lot of drafts throughout the past couple of months, but I could never finish them or wrap my thoughts properly... until today.

The past 15 months have all been about rediscovering myself after breaking free from my abuser. I truly thought it was going to be an easy transition, but fuck no, it wasn’t. The first six months were shit ‘cause she kept trying to contact me and trying fuck me up psychologically, and the following months were confusing, to say the least. Too much shit went down and thanks to the few years of free therapy I got from my shitty university, I’ve been processing everything without resorting to self destruction in the process. Ever since I broke contact with my abusive mother/the demon who cannot be named/former wife to my dad, my father and I have been sort of trying to bond as father-daughter. We have never been truly close and I truly can’t remember why ‘cause I cannot remember my childhood or teenage years. My memory is hazy from back then due to all the abuse and trauma I endured at such a young age. Anyways, overall, my life was going from ugh to meh (depression much? Lol)

Shit started to hit the fan on October 30th, 2019. I remember that day clearly because of what happened the following day... anyways, I remember asking my shrink to give a call asap. Within 30 minutes she gave me a call. I was studying at the library at the time. I exited the place and made my way to the closest place where I could speak privately. Long story short, I told her my depression was making a huge return. I was slowly but surely losing interest in the things I was doing, regardless of my feeble attempts to keep myself sane in the process. After she hang up, I kept thinking about how I no longer had anything to fight for. No real sense of family, no real sense of friends, nada. Not even a fucking a pet to come back home and take care of or something (although having a pet while being in this mental state is not my kinda thing to do tbh.) It was in that moment that I remembered that over ten years ago, I used to work as a waitress to grab some cash to eventually travel to Buenos Aires and see My Chemical Romance live, which I did (hell yeah.) Fuck, but that shitty dream of seeing them live again had ended there when the band broke up. October 31st came and well, y’all know what happened already. Having them back shook my world and gave me another reason to keep fighting this mental illness and all the other bullshit I’m still going through. The following weeks became more bearable, but still, something wasn’t right. Another month went by. It was a Wednesday midnight, I was about to get to bed when I got a text from my father, back at it again with the suicidal thoughts. He’s done this for the last couple of years, the first time affecting me so bad that I had a panic attack (fyi, we live in different cities, I can’t just go and see him right away.) Again, thanks to therapy, I’ve learnt how to take a step back and see things with a better perspective. After reading his text, I once again took the role of parentified child and tried my best to comfort him, and insisting on him getting therapy. And as stubborn as he is, he said no and started making excuses and me, as patient and comforting as I know I can be, I kept telling him that I couldn’t always be there for him and it would make me feel more at ease if he would just freaking go and see a professional. I gave him links to read and find the right therapist for him and all that jazz. I also told him that if he wasn’t gonna do it for him, then he should at least do it for his daughter. The following day he sent me pictures of him having a great fucking time with his friends while I was here, back home, fucking worried. So yeah, damn right I got angry at him. I didn’t reach back to him until the following Monday ‘cause he kept texting me and I was getting annoyed by the endless I’m okay pictures he was sending me. I gently told him to back off and give me space. More months went by and we kept being in touch and seeing each other, pretending like it was all freaking peachy, as always. Believe the lie. Remember?

January 2020 came by and a friend told me she was going to see a Queen tribute band with his dad and I thought it would be a great opportunity for my dad and I to properly bond, since we’re both passionate about music. I invited him to the show and he said yes. Another month went by and we met again. I could tell something was off about him the moment he walked through my door, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was doing my make up while he waited for me to be done. Mind you, we don’t talk much because he is a really quiet man when he is around me, my brother and his ex-wife. The moment he started talking I could tell he was venting, and I was carefully listening and responding when necessary. And that’s when he admitted to me that he was back to doing shady businesses with criminals. Since he knows I’m not a judgy person, he told me everything in detail. The more he told me, the more my body was becoming tense, to the point where I pulled a neck muscle. But my stomach truly turned when he told me, casually, that he had given my security number to a thug as “insurance”. The moment he said that, I remembered when he, a few weeks back, had asked for my security number and I asked why he needed it, and he said it was because he’d forgotten it. I was stupid and naîve enough to trust him and he straight up lied to me, yet again. Whenever fucked up shit like this happened, child me would become paralysed or mute. Hell, I used to stutter and mumble till age 13. My teachers were always nice to me about it ‘cause I was a good, responsible student. That’s all I can remember. So, it’s safe to say that I was in shock. He kept on talking and I could see my reflection in the mirror starting to change. Shit. Not a panic attack. Not now. I don’t know how, but I managed to keep my shit together. We left my apartment. I wasn’t feeling well. Something was wrong. I couldn’t process what had just happened. I was back to being a child. I couldn’t talk. I texted my shrink. It was an SOS moment. She couldn’t call me. Fuck. My mind kept telling me what happened is wrong, this is wrong... but what exactly_ is_ wrong? Why am I feeling this way? A couple of hours went by and I was able to block those thoughts from disrupting me. I slowly started chatting again. My father was unaware of what was happening. I’m pretty sure he thought I was grumpy or something. Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me this way before, lol.Either way, he never asks about me, my life. It’s always been about him since we’ve officially “reconnected.” Well, the more I think about it, since forever.

Night time had finally come and it was time for the show. Things were still awkward between my father and me, but I was somehow more relaxed ‘cause I knew I was meeting my friend and her dad. They were late and my father and I were barely talking to one another, so I said fuck it, grabbed my phone and started checking my social media to make time go by faster. And alas, my friend and her dad finally made it. What a relief. I started feeling my usual self coming back. I was back to talking and being my usual goofy self. Unfortunately, my father was being an asshole, I cracked jokes and tried my best to include him in the conversation but he wouldn’t even laugh. He would just look away, so I retreated a bit and I went back to just being awkward with him. Right before the show started, there were two empty seats with a better view right next to were my friend was sitting, so my father suggested we should go and sit there instead. I gladly agreed. I changed seats right away. I looked back, he didn’t move an inch. Instead, he was signalling me what I think meant something like “yeah, yeah, go ahead” and at this point I was looking at him, confused. I was thinking: “dude, really? We’re supposed to be here and bond. Not sit three seats away from each other. Pff” My friend’s father was cool enough to change seats with my friend so that we could sit next to each other. So, there we were, from left to right: me, my friend, her father, and my father. At the moment, I remember telling my friend: “oh good, I hope they bond and have fun since they are almost the same age and wearing the same coloured t-shirts! Bahaha” The show went on smoothly. 10/10. But part of me was still keeping an eye on my father, making sure he was having a good time. My friend would check on him and tell me if he was having fun. As I predicted, he cried while singing his lungs out to Bohemian Rhapsody. Both him and I miss her deeply. His mother, my grandmother. Anyways, the show was over and I had to get back to my dad. The moment the lights were back on and I looked at him, I could tell he had been crying, so my stupid heart and empathic soul gave him a break and tried their best to get back on more friendly terms. Unfortunately, he was back to being unfriendly with the rest of us. So much so, that he grabbed my shoulder and moved me away from my friend and her dad. Again, it didn’t feel right when he did that. That feeling felt so familiar, but I couldn’t remember why... I eventually lost sight of my friend and we got lost in the crowd that was exiting the stadium. For a moment I stopped somewhere where there wouldn’t be a shit ton of people walking all over me and I turned around to see if I see if I could find them to at least say goodbye. My father was vocal again and told me to just keep going and I insisted on trying to find them. As you can guess, I had no luck finding them. Now it was time for me and him to go to each other’s home. At this point it was almost midnight and I had to get on a bus to go back. He insisted on taking me back home (40km away.) Had I found my friend, we would’ve gone back home together, as intended. The ride back home was filled by John Williams’ score of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I chose the music ‘cause at this point I had a headache and since I suffer from motion sickness and I was out of dramamine, I had to listen to my music. I tried making conversation and all I got back from him was “really”, “oh”, “yeah”, “oh, really?” and “oh, yes.” I was trying my best not to cry. The moment the score started playing A window to the past’s part in Mischief Managed! A memory came back. I used to lock myself up in my bedroom and play that song on loop while crying to drown out the sound of me sobbing. I also remember that whenever I cried too hard at night, the following day I’d had to wear make up on my eyes to cover my puffy eyes. I was fourteen years old back then. That was the year my father cheated on my mother and moved to my grandmother’s house, who had just passed away months prior to all that toxic drama that they always had. I didn’t cry because I wanted my mommy and daddy back together, fuck them. I cried because I had to go back to my dead friend’s house and have my happy memories turn to shit after seeing her house lifeless too. Remembering that fucked up memory puts me back on the brink of tears as I’m typing it now. Man, that’s the reason why I don’t enjoy listening to_ A window to the past _anymore. Anyways, I was back home safe and sound, him too. I was feeling mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.

I abruptly woke up, found myself lost in my own bed, my own bedroom, my own apartment. I shook my head as an attempt to get my shit together and that was when I heard a voice in my head say: “he was abusive yesterday. He’s abusive too, just like her.” And_ fuck_. Yes. That was it. That’s why I felt weird. That’s why I almost had a panic attack. That’s why I almost cried twice throughout the day. He’s always been this way with me. He doesn’t know shit about me. Whenever I tell him something about me, he doesn’t even remember having that conversation at all. Hell, he can’t even remember my friends names! He never asks about how I’m doing, not that I care since we’re not close whatsoever, but you know, he should at least know that since, well, he’s my fucking father. Whenever he bought me a present growing up, it was always something he liked, something he wanted me to wear. Hell, I can’t even tell how many pink pieces of clothing I’ve gotten rid of because I fucking_ hate that colour, or maybe the reason why I fucking hate that colour so much is because of how much he forced me into wearing it. He’s always been a distant father, but at least he never beat the shit out of me or told me I was fat or ugly, or that he preferred my brother over me (like my abusive mother used to do.) Then again, that doesn’t make him any less abusive. Abuse is abuse. His motto’s always been “here, have this money, do whatever.” I used to appreciate that because I thought “cool, thank you for not being nosy.” Truth is, the reason why we can’t connect, bond or whatever is because he doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s been rejoicing on the fact that I’m “on his side” now because I no longer talk to abuser n° 1. On one of my sessions, my therapist told me that the reason why abuser 1 always did her best to crush my self-steem was because she considered me competition. And I dumbfoundedly asked “competition?”. And she replied: “yes, she feels like she was to compete with you for your father’s attention.” My head exploded after that statement. Right now I can’t help but think of what she told me that way. My father has kinda well more like really, been doing kinda the same shit to me, trying to keep me as close as possible to him, to the point where he texts every other day, which he never did until now. The suicide drama, the criminal activity, and a lot more shit that I’m sick of having to deal with. Like I said before, I’ve always been on the role of a parentified child. I always had to deal with this shit _and on my own. I’ve always been the punching bag. I always had to deal with all their drama when all I wanted was to have a normal childhood. All I got instead is a suicide attempt, a decade of self-harm and a long ass history of drug and alcohol abuse, which they know nothing about because I always kept it to myself. I always felt like a burden. I always felt guilty. I was always a “crybaby” because abuser 1 used to tell me that as a kid and whenever she used to see me cry about something as an adult.

So yeah, I’m fucking done with my family. Oh, and my brother? In case you haven’t read any of my previous posts, he’s just as an asshole as the other two are. He’s violent like abuser 1, so fuck you very much, I’m okay this way. He won’t talk to me and he won’t even tell me why. The rest of my family don’t know shit about me because I was always the “quiet one” so I know for a fact that I’m most likely the black sheep for not returning to my hometown in the past year or so. Abuser 1 is very into deceiving appearances and wearing a public mask, so I know for a fact that she’s playing the victim because she can’t reach me anymore, bahaha. fml.

With this post, I can officially say that I’m done grieving the family I always wanted to have but never did. I’ve been meaning to legally change my name because my middle name is abuser’s name 1 and now that abuser 2 has used my personal information against my will to do criminal activity, I have more than enough reasons to reinvent myself in every fucking way I want and need. With that being said, if you’ve got some last name suggestions, feel free to send me suggestions. This is only the beginning of the new chapter of my life. Hopefully your new chapter is starting now or soon too, dear stranger.

Never give up, always fight

Love, Evelyn

#text #personal #abuse #depression #anxiety #panic attacks #parentified child #borderline personality disorder #like if you read please #ty #my life as Eve #my life as evelyn

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dear-vista · 5 years

Text

her shadow [t.h.]

[ prince!tom x reader ]

summary: when the princess of france is arraigned to marry the prince of england to help the financial front, zendaya and her sister come to stay at the castle. you make an odd first impression with the royal family, causing the prince to take a certain interest in you. with a heart of gold, you put up with being in your sister’s shadow. but with newfound interest in the prince, how far can you take your curiosities?

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none ( maybe a swear word? )

author’s note: imma be real homies, this was a trek. i worked on this chapter for a long time and i changed it a lot and it took a while for me to be comfortable with it, and i also dealt with some major writer's block. in my personal, i moved to a new city and it's been really hard for me. my mental health hasn't been and still isn't the greatest, but maybe this can be my crutch. i know you guys waited for this and let me just say, a BIG FUCKIN THANK YOU. Y'all were supportive and patient and it's really wonderful to have that in times like this :) but we hit over 100 followers and i never thought i would do that. so again, thank you. and i promise i'll try not to make the next update two months from now. anyway, enjoy chapter three :) also, if i forgot to add you to the tag list or you would like to be added, either comment or send an ask :)

part 1 part 2 part 3

For the next hour of your time, Anastasia had you sat in a bathtub as she desperately tried to scrub the scent of liquor and what could only be called ‘desperation’ off your skin. Sure, your arms and legs looked like cherry tomatoes that had grown in awkward ways, but thank the gods it was normal to wear long sleeves. Anastasia humored you, asking about your time in the city, asking what the pub was like, what the people were like. When asked if she had even left the castle gates, she got quiet and it made your heart ache.

She pulled you from the tub, drying you off as you shivered from the water that had all but turned to ice. You pulled on your undergarments yourself, hating even entertaining the idea of anyone dressing her. You had two hands and thought yourself perfectly capable of pulling fabric on. Anastasia busied herself with looking through your dresses until a knock rang through the room. The copper-haired maid scuttled to open the door but was immediately pushed back by the person you wanted to see probably the least.

“You’re insufferable. Insisting on going into town and drinking your heart out. We’re not in France where you can spend your life as a peasant. We are guests of the King and Queen and you will act as such.” Zendaya scolded you as you sat back, eye looking bored. All she could do was glare at you and you truly questioned if the corset around her waist was so tight that it could cause mental defects. The thought made you snicker, causing the princess to huff.

“You will not embarrass me tonight, our first meal with the King, the entire family. So I went and picked out a dress for you.” What she held up made you want to vomit. A sickly colour that looked like a mix of green and purple with bright white lacing up the front. “You will wear this and you will not speak tonight unless spoken to. Your spot will be next to the twins. Maybe, if you clean up your act, you can pick a Holland of your own.” She smirked.

The way she spoke of the family like objects put you in perspective once again. You were not in the friendly village you called home, not in the city that welcomed you with laughter and drinks. You were in the London palace, surrounded by cold royalty who thought everyone who wasn’t them, wasn’t worth the air they breathed.

“Maybe I don’t want a ‘Holland of my own’” You quoted, “Maybe I think of them as people and would also like to marry as far away from you as possible.” You sneered. She couldn’t help but smirk, because she just loved to get under your skin. You guessed you could blame your mother, though this was something so purely aggravating that just she possessed. With that all being said, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

You stood for a second, trying to mask your heaving chest from the immense anger you felt as you played with the small necklace that sat around your neck. It was a circle, representing the moon that a blacksmith had given you after showing you the countryside just outside of France. You clicked your tongue as you pushed yourself off the chair you had been leaning on, going over to the closet where all your clothing was hanging.

Fabric began to fly as you dug through the clothes, of course, there was quite a bit. But you knew what you were looking for. The moment your hand brushed against it, you pulled it from the closet. A smile formed on your features as you turned towards Ana.

“The people here do talk, don’t they?”

When it was time for the dinner, there was a guard at your door. And lucky for you, you had met this one before. Ana had just finished your make-up as Harrison knocked on your door. She hurried over as you stood, dusting off your dress as you looked in a mirror. A whistle was heard behind you as you turned with a raised brow.

“Well, well, well (Y/N). Looks as if you clean up quite nicely.” He teased as you walked over to him and took his extended arm. You scoffed as you waved goodbye to Ana. “Please, do tell me your secret to sobriety.” He said in a joking manner.

“An hour in an ice bath would wake anyone up.” You admitted as you walked through the halls. You could hear small bits of chatter, soft music as you raised a brow. They had a band just for a simple dinner? Though, you guessed it wouldn’t be considered ‘just a dinner’. The coming of the Princess who was to marry the heir to the throne, the uniting of the kingdoms, that could be a cause for some kind of celebration. It was as if Harrison could feel your hesitance, quickly offering you a soft smile, patting your arm.

“You took on the pubs of London. Some small dinner should be no cause for concern.” He encouraged you, making a breathless laugh leave your lips.

“The streets of London and France are one thing. If I get in trouble, throwing a punch is on the table. But in a dinner with one of the strongest monarchies in Europe, I don’t think that’s necessarily acceptable.” You chuckled along, drawing ever closer to the source of your fear. At the door, Harrison stopped you. He turned you towards him, hands resting on each shoulder lightly.

“Now (Y/N), do excuse my speaking outright but they are nothing to fear. Just sit there with a fake smile like the rest, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to if you’re truly that frightened. But as your friend, yes I consider you a friend by now, I encourage you to just try and enjoy yourself. Tom will be there, look to him for guidance if need be. You’re going to do great.” He flashed a smile as you took a breath, nodding and dusting your dress off.

“Into the pit then.”

You entered fairly unnoticed. You could feel a few pairs of eyes on you as Harrison walked you in, linked by the arms to your seat. You were sat in the middle of your sister and one of the twins. At both heads sat the King and Queen. Zendaya to her right, Tom to her left. Next to Tom was the youngest Holland, playing with his food. The other twin, Harry or Sam you couldn’t be sure, sat across from the other. In all honesty, you weren’t really paying enough attention to be able to decipher them apart.

You could feel Zendaya’s gaze as you sat in the deep emerald green dress that adorned your form, along with what you could only assume was Tom’s eyes locked onto you. You smiled as you sat, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Harrison subtly before looking across the table to Tom, who offered you a grin. Zendaya grabbed your arm with tight lips and you could feel her sneer without even having to look at her.

“I told you to wear the grey dress. Where did you even get this?” She hissed, pulling at the silk fabric as you swatted her hand away. With the small burst of confidence that Harrison gave you from his pep talk, you grinned at your dear sister.

“To be honest with you Z,” Your voice was filled with the type of spite that you only harbored when you were sure you had an upper hand, something you seemed to be very unsure of at that moment. “I really don’t give a damn what you told me to do. Because you may be my big sister, but that doesn’t make you any less of a pain in my ass.” You said with a smile as you looked back up across the table, hearing one of the twins snicker from beside you.

“Zendaya, you look wonderful tonight.” The queen chimed before your sister could get a word in edgewise. “Tom,” the older woman purred to her eldest, gesturing to her, “doesn’t she look stunning?” She asked with the intent of helping her son, only to make his smile falter.

“Of course.” He chimed with an uncomfortable look in his eye. “Though, I’ve never really been a fan of yellow.” He said, making you want to howl with laughter from the look of pure and utter horror that tried to escape Zendaya’s face. “But (Y/N), the green looks wonderful.” You were practically wheezing.

The dinner went through smoothly after that. You were actually mildly enjoying yourself. You decided that maybe, just maybe, you should steer away from any kind of alcohol for the night, sticking with water throughout the meal. You could hear the twins snickering from across the table to each other, Tom playing with Paddy, earning the occasional scowl or scolding from their mother. Dom and Nikki conversed with Zendaya, occasionally including you in a question or two. It was a bit of a change but you didn’t really mind it. Though, you were sure this is one of the first dinners with any kind of royalty where you actually felt anything at all besides pure exasperation.

“(Y/N)” You felt a nudge from beside you, catching your attention and making you turn to the twins. You couldn’t help but raise a brow at the look of mischief on their faces. Maybe it wasn’t so much externally, but you knew that glint in their eyes from a mile away. After all, you were usually the one who held it. You watched for a moment as the two exchanged a glance, a silent thought shared as if it was telepathically.

“We want to go beyond the wall.” The twin closest to you said, who throughout the night you figured out was Harry, Sam nodding after he said it. The hall was noisy enough that you hoped no one could hear your conversation. Of course, they would come to you because of course, they knew. Your little outing had only gone over the head of the king and queen. And for as long as you were a resident of their home, you’d like to keep it that way.

“What do you mean you want to go ‘beyond the wall’? Why are you telling me? You’ve got full power over yourselves, can’t you just go?” You asked with furrowed brows. At home, being the younger sister of the heir didn’t mean much. You were just another person with some nobility. No one cared when you came and went, hell, you were once gone for two weeks and when you returned, your mother gave you no more than a nod. You couldn’t see what the big deal about leaving the gates was. But your confusion just increased as the twins shook their heads.

“We don’t really leave the castle unless its for some war preparation that our father has planned. We don’t greet the public, we don’t go into the city. Mother says it’s wrong for royalty to be in those kinds of conditions.” Another thing you could add to the growing list of things you disliked about the king and the queen. They were your sister’s type of royalty, your father’s type of royalty. But even then, Zendaya and your father made appearances in the lower city, to show they ‘cared’ about their citizens.

“Well I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” You said, mind already knowing where they wanted to go with their statement, mentally forbidding yourself from accepting. It was bad enough that you had your sister on your tail the entire time, but the last thing you needed was to be on the foul side of the King and Queen of England. Especially staying at their home, it was really not preferable.

“We want you to take us-”

“No.” You wouldn’t even let Sam, the one sitting across from the two of you, finish his sentence. “Absolutely not. If you’re not allowed out then there’s no way in the seven circles of hell that I would even attempt to get you out. Ask one of the guards or the golden child. But you won’t be coming out with me.” You didn’t need their lives in your hand just to have your head on a plate. It wasn’t worth it.

“But you can get out! You just left with one of the guards!” Harry complained, his voice was in a whining tone, making you roll your eyes.

“Yes, I can get out. Because everyone here is so invested in the fact that my sister is here that they’re going to look right over my head. But that’s because I’m not one of England’s star princes or one of France’s prize citizens. At home, I come and go as I please. I’m sure they expected no different from me here. I don’t believe it would be in my favor that, after I arrived, the twin princes decided it would be a good idea to go off an explore.” You said with a huff. “Now, if you excuse me.” You said as you slowly motioned over to Harrison. Frankly, you had been done eating for a good amount of time, and no longer wished to socialize.

Harrison walked over to you without making eye contact with any of the other royals, bending down to whisper to you, you could feel the smirk that crawled over his lips.

“Now what’s got your feathers in a ruse, princess?” He asked as he extended his arm, helping you raise from your seat. You felt a gaze on your back, and with a look over your shoulder, you spotted Tom. He was smiling, and it wasn’t overly obvious that he was staring at you. Just enough so you could tell. It caused you to offer a small smile of your own before you walked out of the dining hall on Harrison’s arm.

“Just the twins. I’m not really sure if they know my name, but they know I can leave the castle and they want me to get them out.” You sighed once you were out of earshot. The day had been long, and yet strangely you weren’t tired, at all.

“It’s just like them, they’ve been asking me for months now.” You laughed slightly, shaking your head. You would want to escape too if you were them. Being trapped in confined spaces, though under normal circumstances you would never call the walls of this grand castle confined, next to the Kind and Queen had to be painful.

“Harrison, what do you after nightfall? I mean, when there’s no training or guarding to do, what do you do?” You asked curiously, looking up to the blonde. He looked back down at you with a raised brow, already knowing where you were going. And disliking it.

“I go into the guards quarters, and we have a few drinks, we play a few games. Even the kind’s men get a bit of time off. Especially now that you and your sister are here. The king isn’t planning any wars or requiring any kind of extra training so, we actually get some time off to do what we want to do.” Harrison said, actually sounding happy about the fact. Sure, you had only known him for a day, but you could only guess that the serving class around here wasn’t treated the greatest.

“Take me with you. Please.” You asked, in your own way, with hopeful eyes. Harrison’s own blue ones looked down at you with some kind of mix of concern and nervousness. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. “Please. It would save me temporarily from Zendaya’s wrath. You have no idea what something like wearing the wrong dress entails.” You said with a small chuckle, hoping to persuade him.

“I don't know (Y/N). The boys are kind of tough people to get used to.” He tried to sway you, and you gave him a blank look.

“Harrison, for a good chunk of the day I was in a pud. And there were several fights and I still got myself home unscathed. Sir, I think I can handle myself quite well.” You reasoned, a slight smirk on your lips as Harrison paused. He had to admit, he saw your point. He stayed silent for a few more seconds before sighing.

“Fine. Go change. It would be a shame for this dress to smell like liquor.” He said, causing you to smile brightly. Yes, this would be a good night.

tags: @greenarrowhead @voidtrixie @racewife2004 @technolilly @andreuskystuff @jadav5 @aelin-firehearts-court @spideybitey18 @choke-me-sweet-pea @loxbbg @thebadassbitchqueen @notes-from-my-journal @jubaydahk @carolyns14 @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @heimdoodle @httpmcrvel @deranged-sewer-rat @justanotherfangirl2015 @shortbty14

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #prince!tom au #prince!tom #princessdiariesau #royal!au #royal!tom #tom holland series #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #marvel #her shadow #trying my best #THANK YOU!!!#like and heart!

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khazumineedsyuri-blog · 5 years

Text

Welcome Back.

A/N: Yes, It’s Hibike, and Yes, I’m an ass for disappearing. Please do have a read? I probs have lost all the writing cells in my body, but eh.

How long had it been? A year? Two years… six years?

The cold air was still flavoured that same nostalgic scent of mystery and something… “special”. Ha, how amusing. Always was, really.

“Special… huh.”

A fraction of a shiver crawled up her spine as a freezing wisp of air made it past her warmth barriers of winter wear. She shuffled her feet as she stood, staring straight ahead at a sight that should have been so familiar had she not taken granted of it during the times when she would daily face it or turn her back to it. Really… how would she have known that she were to be gone for so long?!

It had been quite a while since she left. Left to follow after her beautiful enigma of a senpai who pursued her father as if she were a pack migrating animals chasing the trail of the exiting warmth as winter dared to bite her frosty tail.

The brunette shook her head, shook off her nerves (sorta), and shook the snow off her coat. Her hand had just been there for minutes now, hanging frozen in the air, balled up into a fist, barely touching worn wood.

What was keeping her there? She was no stranger in this area. There was no reason for her suspicious movements. She could even just… practically barge in without even needing to knock.

After all… it was her house.

The creak of the knob made her jump back a few steps, successfully stepping on a frosted area on the ground and slipping to her inevitable doom, hitting her head on the, quite luckily, snow-blanketed concrete.

“KUMIKO?!”

She could hear the frantic scuffle of slipper-protected feet as they pranced about on snow.

“Onee-chan, you’re going to catch a cold, your feet all buried in the snow. What are you thinking?” The musician chuckled, lifting her head up, and simultaneously feeling the assistance of a warm hand at the back of her head.

“What are you thinking?!” Mamiko retorted. “This is no place to practice backward entrances for scuba! You can do it at those tropical beaches you often visit on tour, but not here! Sheesh, you finally come home and this happens?”

Despite her harsh, high-pitched nagging, Kumiko felt the warmth of her sister’s voice battle away the cold that crept on both their skins.

“Come on, inside we go. Before mom and dad come home to a disastrous pair of feverish children.”

Kumiko laughed, standing up with minimal assistance as she hooked her arms around the shoulders of her, now, shorter elder sibling. Walking felt awkward, and she knew her sister would give her a big “you owe me” for carrying all the luggage, plus Kumiko, into the house, but eh. Being the youngest and spoiled wasn’t too bad sometimes.

“I want miso soup.”

“Hai, hai. Demanding little-“

=WBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWB=

“So, how was it? ‘International tour fame’?” Mamiko began her query session with air quotes.

“It was… something.” Kumiko responded blankly, eyes on the television, lower half stuffed under the kotatsu.

“Eeeehhh…” Mamiko pinched her younger sibling’s cheek, stealing the remote as the “child” complained and shutting off the tv. “Haven’t you had enough of that in all those hotel rooms?” She chided.

“You’d be surprised how little personal time I had at all.” Kumiko huffed, cheeks blown up. Deep down, however, she was glad Mamiko wanted more bonding time as sisters than with a TV.

Kumiko tried to think of a reasonable answer to that question. Honestly? Everything was quite the blur, the rush, the adrenaline, the lights, the overwhelming beauty of sound-

…and then she’d finally find herself all spent, lying on her bed, in a private suite, embraced by the silence.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“I seriously don’t get all the fuss, why people aspire to be famous and renowned.” She finally murmured, staring at the ceiling.

“Ah~, the famous words of any famous person.” Mamiko teased in a sing-song voice, before quieting down, shifting her gaze from her sister to their cream-colored ceiling as well. “Yeah.”

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, both contemplating the same thing with different perspectives in mind.

“Was it at least fun, playing the euph?” That question broke the silence as Mamiko felt the world beside her gleam and brighten. Her eyes travelled to rest once more on her younger counterpart, chuckling inwardly at the child-like demeanor.

“It was the only thing that kept me on that trip… on this road of a career… the only thing worth it all.”

“Worth leaving for?” Mamiko asked absentmindedly and soon regretted as she felt as though a blackout had consumed them. She saw the light leave Kumiko’s eyes as her head hung low, tousled bangs hiding her expression from her sibling.

“Nothing is worth leaving a home.” She whispered silently. She cursed the words that showed her weakness. She bit her tongue, the inside of her cheek, squeezed her eyes shut, pinched her knee… she did it all to keep the tears of regret from dripping past the façade she had taken so long to build for the people, for her audience, for everyone… for herself who she daily faced in the mirror. The girl she pleaded with and battled with daily. To stay, or to return.

Warmth.

“You don’t have to hug me.”

“I want to.”

=WBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWB=

“…”

“OUMAEEEEE-CHWAAAAAA- GUH-!”

Asuka winced in pain, as she kissed the walls of Kitauji highschool’s music room. It was well past seven in the evening, and here she was, originally found at a music teacher’s desk, twirling a pen, hair all up in a bun with her signature glasses on- before she unceremoniously attacked Kumiko, that is.

“It’s nice to see you too, senpai.” Kumiko smiled meekly.

“THEN MAKE IT FEEL THAT WAY!” Asuka huffed, before walking back to her desk and sitting on it, legs crossed one over the other.

“I’m sorry. I can never really get used to your eccentricity.” Kumiko grinned, before it turned into a whine as Asuka reached over to ruffle her hair. “Asuka- senpaaiii!!!!”

“That’s more like it.”

After all the “formalities” were completed, the pair took their time, grinning at each other, before those grins melted away into soft smiles.

Kumiko stared at the admirable figure she had gone after all those years ago. The woman who had fanned the flames of the already lit fire… the match, of course, struck by one special someone.

Kumiko graduated high school, Asuka was in her second year of college, studying for the degree her mom wanted her to have, but she was about to readily throw away at a letter offered by her father to none other than herself, and one very surprised Oumae Kumiko.

Asuka’s father had formed his own travelling brass band, and with quite the scarcity of quality euphonium players that were not yet taken by big orchestras and bands, the pair was a whole pile of diamonds buried down under. It was a big break for both.

Asuka had her heart set on it, but she knew Kumiko was not one to be spontaneous- well… maybe. She only ever was when that person was involved.

But that person had disappeared, hadn’t she? Leaving for the same reason as Kumiko’s would be.

And somehow, Kumiko jumped at the proposal and in two weeks, without much prep, goodbyes, farewells, with the exception of a small get together and some emails… they were gone.

The world was a large place. So large. Too large for herself. And yet, the world chased after her, held her at a high value, it seemed.

Their band company blew up, invited to various events, and in two years… a short, but long two years… the band broke up. It broke, but their fame didn’t. Two years of being under the tutelage of one of the best euphonium players and Asuka and Kumiko were world class, if they hadn’t already been under Taki Noboru’s influence.

This connection also garnered them their fair share of attention and clients as solo artists. They’d be invited into groups, ensembles, bands, orchestras to play, be guest performers, soloist, temporary members, but neither stayed too long.

Slowly, their companionship stretched out in miles. They scarcely were ever in the same area or group. At times, they’d even be in different countries.

One day, Asuka, in the middle of the fourth year away from Japan, finally spoke in the middle of clean up, “I’m going home.”

It was a shock. A big one. Enough to pull out an incredulous, disbelieving laugh from Kumiko. Dropping her cleaning rag, and placing her instrument on the wooden floorboards, she laughed.

“You mean for a vacation? Finally?”

“I’m going to stop being a performer and go home. For good.”

Kumiko’s hands dropped from their prior position, clutching her stomach. The fake laughter halted.

“Why…”

“That’s-“

“You took me here…. You brought me here with you!” She yelled- wait, why did she yell. Her world spun in circles, her vision red, targeting Asuka. “You brought me here, and while my soul, my music is chained to the stage, you decided you want to leave? HOW FREE ARE YOU?! You’ve always, ALWAYS had such a free spirit…. How can you… these people… you-“

Ah- there it was… Asuka’s cold, cold, blank gaze.

“Why are you blowing up at me all of a sudden? What an odd response, Kumiko.” She never called her by her first name. Not if it weren’t such a big deal. “You came with me on your own volition. You wanted this. I gave you a chance to think, to back out… you never gave me a reason in the end. On why you wanted to come along. What is it that you’re chasing? What is your goal here Kumiko?”

Asuka crossed her arms, awaiting a response, but only slow, laboured breathing greeted her.

“My goal was to play with my father, experience the world, and once I was satisfied, return to the place where I knew I belonged. You knew that. I told you. I told you that I would go home someday. Because I know where it is my heart calls home.”

Kumiko gripped the hem of her blouse, teeth gritting as her mind asked her all the questions she never answered.

“What is it keeping you chained to the stage, Kumiko? We don’t have an official group, we don’t have obligations, a signed contract. We’re basically freelancers. Why is it that you won’t come with me? I never said you couldn’t come back with me.” Asuka offered a reassuring hand and a kind smile. “Maybe I should’ve said, “let’s go home”… how’s that?”

Seconds passed.

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t go home…”

“Why?”

“Because she never will…”

“I’m surprised we’re on such good terms. I was sure we fought before I left.” Asuka laughed. Kumiko followed suit, the memory didn’t stir up any bad feelings toward Asuka at all. It only made Kumiko think of how much of a fool she had been, not coming home sooner. “So… What made you decide it was time to come home?” Asuka laughed, finally popping the big question.

Asuka was surprised at the immediate answer. Without missing a beat, Kumiko relayed her story of two years. “I had stayed because I genuinely loved the music my euphonium was still capable of generating. I know you know I kept tabs on her from time to time. Seeing her tour Europe and Asia, America and all that. I guess… I just didn’t want to lose. I wanted her to see how special I was going to become too, enough to stand beside her. I wanted to be her equal and tell her that without… actually telling her.”

“And why is that?”

“… because she didn’t tell me that she was finally going to leave to become the most special.”

“So a grudge, huh.”

“Senpaiii, don’t twist my poetic statementssss, the emotions, the theatrics-“

“Where?”

“Righ-“

“Excuse me, but the school gates are about to be closed. It’s past ten pm, what in the world are you still doing? The guards are beginning to complain, Tanaka- sen…sei…”

“Taki-sensei.”

“Vice-principal~” Asuka whispered.

“Kumiko…Kumiko?”

“Hi?”

=WBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWB=

“…”

“…- this is starting to get a little old.”

“Kumiko! Don’t break the silent contest!!!”

“Ehhh, we were having one?”

“I figured as much.”

“Even you Taki-sensei?”

“Vice-principal, Taki-sensei-“

“That doesn’t even make sense, Asuka-san.”

“Oh~ so now you call me that, after going all, “Tanaka-sensei”.”

“Isn’t that the obvious way to go? We’re colleagues now, and in our area of work, we must follow proper etiquette-“

“Forgetting that, sensei, please treat us to some beef! Beef!!! Or ramen!”

“Asuka-san…”

“…”

The trio stood by the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the red light to turn green.

“Why did no one bring a car?” Kumiko asked.

“Why didn’t you?” Asuka shot back.

“Umm, I just got back here. My license isn’t renewed and I don’t exactly have a car.”

“I know you can afford one.”

“So can you!” Kumiko complained as she nudged Asuka forward, just as the light had signalled ‘green’.

Taki chuckled at their silliness. “I happen to like walking to work.” He pitched in. “It’s good exercise for this man who’s slowly turning grey.”

“Haven’t you always been old, though?”

“Ever the runny mouth, Kumiko.” Noboru laughed out loud. “This is why I like you two- no don’t pretend to be blushing, crushing school girls, that’s gross.”

Everyone shared a laugh at that as they stopped in front of a small ramen stall.

“Oho~, so you are treating us!” Asuka wiggled her brows playfully. “By the way, my excuse is that I’m just too lazy to drive. The train can be fun for baiting those dirty old men into an overnight in jail.”

“You and your ideas of fun.” Kumiko shook her head amusedly. Some things never did change.

Seating at the very empty stall, the three placed their orders and continued their chat while waiting for the warm bowls of goodness.

“You never answered my question, Oumae-chan. What made you finally decide to come home?” Asuka reiterated, genuinely curious.

“Oh, so that’s what took you so long. I’d like to know as well. I haven’t heard from you at all since you left. I’d heard of you though, yes. That much is obvious.” Taki gave a proud grin.

“Well…” Kumiko bashfully scratched the back of her head. “I had been reading and watching articles of Reina-“ The name felt odd, yet familiar… it felt wonderful rolling off her tongue once more. “Reina… I had been keeping tabs on her and all her adventures… well, as many as I could… and about half a year ago, all records of her just waned in number, until finally I read that she had stopped and disappeared from stage. Apparently, she had told one conductor who was a friend that she was… finally ‘satisfied’-what is up with that, you geniuses?!” Kumiko turned to the pair, frustrated.

“Eh-“

“Anyway… I had… kinda lost my reason… and so… I held on a little longer to the sound of my euphonium and… I woke up one day and felt… It’s time to go home.” She shrugged at the last sentence.

“That’s it! That’s the feeling!” Asuka laughed, just as her bowl was placed in front of her. “-Ah, thank you… Anyway, Kumiko. That’s exactly it. When you aren’t so sad at the thought of leaving, and you feel it’s okay to finally let go, no matter how high up the peak you are of your career… that. That’s the feeling.”

“Huh. Maybe you could’ve told me that when we parted?” Kumiko sighed, shaking her head, before a small smile rested on her lips. “It’s a great feeling, I now know.”

“It is.”

“Yeah… it’s marvellous.”

“Not the soup, sensei.” Kumiko deadpanned, before they all settled into a good laugh.

=WBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWB=

“So she is still the reason you do all these crazy things out of your comfort zone?” Taki laughed as he walked Kumiko home. Asuka had apparently received a call from “someone” (probably Kaori or Haruka… or both) and had parted ways with them.

“I guess so.” Kumiko responded honestly.

“By the way, has your sister ever forgiven you for missing her engagement party?”

“Hey! Low blow! Change topic! And at least I’m making it to her wedding, for your information.”

“Luckily, yeah. Haha.”

“Ah- We’re here.” Kumiko spoke in realization, staring at her home with just the porch light on. Turning to Taki, she smiled. “Thank you for walking me home, sensei.”

“It was no trouble.”

They stood there in an awkward, silent staring contest.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way.”

“O-oh, right. Yeah, of course. Good night, Taki-sensei.”

“Good night, Kumiko.” As both turned their backs to one another, three words, chained Kumiko to the ground. “She misses you.”

‘…really, sensei… low blow…’

=WBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWBWB=

Kumiko swivelled in Asuka’s desk chair, pondering the proposal she had just gotten.

“If you’re not going to answer me right away, and just think like that, please go take a walk and spend your time elsewhere, because I have a mountain of work on that desk, and that devil, Taki Noboru is convincing higher ups to cut my pay, all the while, I’m doing a GOOD. JOB.”

“Are you though?” Kumiko teased.

“Out.”

Being kicked out of Asuka’s office, Kumiko decided, maybe it was a good idea to take a walk outside. She hadn’t done so- casual walking- since she came back. Maybe it was time for a quick trip down memory lane. To all those familiar spots.

Kicking her shoes on the ground into place, she walked. And walked. And walked. Roundabout the school, down roads, staggered the trails, and eventually… up those very magical stairs.

The view wasn’t quite as breath-taking in the daylight, as it was that one night, so, so many years ago. But, hey, it was good enough to stare at, nonetheless.

This was quite the magical place. That girl WAS magic.

Her jet black hair, piercing amethyst eyes, fiery passion, blissful lips, scalding, yet tempting words, heart-wrenching tears, enchanting presence… special.

She was Magic, oh yes she was indeed. Kumiko could only laugh hollowly. This girl…

“Kousaka Reina.” Kumiko opened her eyes to take in that sight once more before leaving this place. Maybe she’d visit a few more times if she could.

Her breath caught painfully in her throat as the sight she saw was not the one she expected to see.

“Lilacs… Kousaka Reina…” The connection was made somehow.

“Yes?” That voice…oh that voice. The music of that voice, of her trumpet, the warmth of her hands, her touch her-

“Why are you all up in my face?”

My damn mouth!

“Pfff- Ahahahahahaha, you never changed. Never. Ahhahaha, hey Kumiko.” The laughter left as soon as it came. What kind of switch did this girl have? “Why didn’t you look for me? Hadn’t you been following me? As soon as you knew I came home, why did you never search. Even when you know all the places I’d be in- oh, but I got to give you credit for going to the school. Though you must’ve forgotten our spot after all these years of never coming home-“

“Hi.”

“…” Reina laughed so hard, she clutched her sides. All Kumiko could do was stare in awe at the mystery and beauty. “What in the world, really. You are so weird, still. But, hmm… Hi, Kumiko. It’s been a while. I’ve missed you.”

If that didn’t make Kumiko’s heart flutter, it certainly destroyed its functionality.

“Welcome Back.”

Oh-

She realized…. Ever since she arrived, no one quite told her that. Neither did she realize it… weird how Asuka’s words came flooding back in. All that talk about knowing where you belonged, where your home was.

“Oh. This is home.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“You’re Home.”

“Yes I am.”

“You’re my Home.”

“Ah-“ Reina blushed those rare blushes.

“Say it again.”

“You’re a horrible person, you know that? Giving me no time to recover?” Reina complained as she stepped closer, pulling Kumiko into an embrace. “But that’s one thing I love about you.”

“Mm… I’m Back…” Finally.

“Welcome Back.”

A/N: Hello? Well… Ummm… I’m quite… how long has it been? A year? Nearly two? Since I last…. Wrote any fanfiction… for HIbike it’s been quite a while, I know… on this platform especially. That’s sad to know. I’ve… I’ve been leading a shitty life for the past six months. I want to change that. I’ve been surviving, but… deep down, no one sees how messed up I reallyam. Ahaaha. And… I guess finally I couldn’t hide it.. and it blew up into this horrible mess. I don’t know if I’m back into writing, per se? But… It’s a pleasure to deliver this piece.

It’s nostalgic to sign this, but…

~Shintori Khazumi

#hibike! euphonium #kumirei #kinda #comeback?#haha #screwme

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sometimesimawriter · 5 years

Text

Mirror Effect

Part 3

A/N: so a little confusion but big gaps and/or switch in perspective or sudden shift in scenery often means a new paragraph for my style of writing! But yeah, have some budding romance and more newly found information. Stick around for the next part and see some more rising action and intensity- every story needs a build up.

Side note: after I’m done posting this whole story, I’m going to start up with another Academy fanfic because yeah well it’s my favorite show. Definitely plan for more action in that one though.

And back to your regularly scheduled program:

"This place is amazing" Klaus kept walking around the lab, touching the plants Kayla had deemed nonpoisonous, and opening then closing cabinets. The old house had four levels, a basement, kitchen/living area, bedrooms and infirmary, and then the attic which had been transformed into a greenhouse and lab area. It wasn't modern, and some panels above the plants looked as if they had been shattered, possibly by time? Kayla's work area was clean, save for a few papers scattered about, filled with formulas and equations. Klaus picked up one piece of paper, he didn't understand all the symbols on it, but he recognized a name, "Maximus Battle? Badass name."

"Yeah thats Razor, and not so much of a badass as he is a pussy." Kayla walked behind him and looked over his shoulder at the paper, "That's his DNA makeup, basically what I've figured out is that he heals faster than a normal person, his bone's are thicker due to a higher calcium concentration in his blood, and since he heals faster, thats makes sedating him real tough. Horse tranquilizers just make him yawn and then he's back at it." She scrunched her nose a bit, "Gets real fucking annoying when someone won't just lie down and knock out, you know?"

Klaus giggled at this, he liked her, she had a personality sometimes. He turned around to her and studied her for a bit, and his eyes landed on a gold chain tucked inside her shirt. He lifted one hand and gently picked it up, and a gold cross fell across her chest, "You're a Catholic?"

She gave a devilish grin at this, "No where near it. I guess I'm agnostic, I like studying it though. Religion is a strange concept, but what i do believe in is an afterlife."

Klaus gave a bright smile, "Woah, I'm agnostic too! Though i did have some questions after i met what i think is god; she was a little girl on a bike with flowers and pointed me to a cabin where my father who apparently killed himself gave me a real nice shave..."

He stopped when he noticed she was giving him a strange look.

"Wait let me explain more, so I can- um-" He gulped, hoping this wasn't going to ruin his chances with her, "I can talk to the dead."

Her mouth opened, then it looked like an idea popped into her head,

"So can you like, find out if Kurt Cobain actually killed himself or if Courtney Love murdered him?"

This caught him off guard, he was used to people dismissing him, normally his brothers and sisters, but she accepted this so...easily.

"I mean, I could try- no guarantees though."

"I suggest you try to not move this arm so much, I have a sling you may want to use." Christina fidgeted a bit around Five, obviously still flustered from the scene in the kitchen. She rummaged through drawers, and Five looked around the room. There were posters hung up, some about the biological makeup of a person, different bones, muscles, etc. One poster was of a kitten hanging on a branch with "Hang In There!" In bright pink letters. Christina caught him examining that one poster and blurted out "Oh no thats not mine! Kayla.. put that..there". Again, her faced turned pink and she kept moved through drawers. This was definitely her space, it was a complete mess. One corner had a nice alcove near the window, overlooking the neighbor's gardens. It had some papers on the floor around it and pasted on the walls near it. Lots of Beatles and Arctic Monkeys posters, like, a lot.

"You like alternative music." Five stated- no shit Sherlock but we'll let them have this moment.

"Yeah, love it actually. When Kayla and I were 16 we went and saw Arctic Monkeys in (God i hope I'm right im sorry chris) Brooklyn. It was in a tennis stadium, and she didn't really know a lot of their songs but it was a great time. I am in love with Alex Turner." She turned back around, thinking "Why the fuck did i say that last part ?"

But thankfully, Five turned out to be a music nerd too,

"If I weren't straight, I'd go gay for him too."

She let out a laugh, kind of choked, but eased into it as Five laughed with her.

"So Kayla and Emma were telling me that you play music, tell me more."

Christina beamed at this, she loved talking about music- so much so that Kayla and Emma tend to leave the room once she begins a tangent.

"Well, I really go solo as of now. I write some of my own music but I do a lot of covers too. I play the guitar and occasionally the ukulele."

Five leaned towards her, he was still sitting on the cot where she had just reexamined his arm.

"And-um- I try to get discovered. Really has opened some doors for me. Kayla and Emma go to every show they can. I've had some producers come up to me after shows, they seem a little shady though. I don't want to get trapped in some record deal either."

"That's understandable. What do you think of Bowie or Arcade Fire?"

Christina turned back around at him, beaming. "YES."

Five slipped off the table, moving next to her and lifted a sling from the drawer, "Is this what you were looking for?"

"Oh um yeah thats it, I guess i didn't see it. If you want me to put it on for you i can-"

She was silenced by his slow, lazy movement, leaning closer to her face. He stood about six inches taller than her, and he hovered above her, tension building between them. He moved closer, about to kiss her...

"ChRISTINA I- well we- FOUND SOMETHING" Emma's voiced boomed outside of the infirmary. Five cursed under his breath and retreated, "Hopefully something worthwhile, Diego?"

Diego and Emma moved into the room; Christina noticed that Emma had left the house with her hair in a messy bun, but now she had it hanging past her shoulders; something she would only do when she absolutely needed to look decent. Emma saw her studying her and made a face, with an unspoken message: "say something and i'll hit you".

Diego spoke up, "yeah, found a blood trail. Led a few blocks down to an abandoned storage facility." He then held up two limber blades and smiled, "Got my knives back."

Five looked between the two, "Did you go inside?"

Emma crossed her arms and tipped her chin up at him, obviously not liking his condescending tone, "Of course we went in,"

"Went in where?" Kayla questioned, entering the infirmary with Klaus trailing behind her.

Emma turned to face her, "remember that storage place on East Ave? Where Brendan had that party that got busted last week?"

"Oh yeah, i got fucked up there, man. Oh and him and Matt are coming over today, they got word that the Academy was in town."

Klaus perked up at the mention of two other guys, "Who's Brendan and Matt?"

Christina answered this, "They're our verbally adopted brothers."

Five gave her a questioning look, "what does that even mean?"

"We grew up with them, so, why not call them our brothers. That's what you guys do."

Diego snickered, "yeah, that makes sense when you put it that way. So why are they coming here?"

Kayla turned to him, "Well they also have their abilities-"

Five looked at her incredulously, "Wait, how many people do you know with powers?"

Emma, seemingly deciding she didn't like him, remarked, "if you kept up with your origins, there were 43 women who gave birth on the same day, same circumstances. Y'all a'int that special."

"So what are they're abilities?" Klaus seemed unnerved by this.

"Brendan's like a shapeshifter, minus the shape shifting. He can turn into any material he touches. Matthew is a telepathic son of a-" Kayla was abruptly interrupted by a voice, but it wasn't connected to a body, except it was in her head, well, everyone's heads.

"Fuck off maybe?" The voice rumbled.

Kayla started in, obviously accustomed to hearing voices in her head, "Yeah well how about you show up so i can kick the shit out of you?"

Then another voice, behind the group, "Bet."

Two men, one with a buzz cut and the other with a middle aged man's haircut stepped into the room. Buzz cut then placed his hand on a medical metal tray, and his fingertips turned silver, as did his forearm, and then the rest of his body. His now metallic eyes turned to the other guy, presumably Matthew, "Your turn."

Matthew grinned at him, and a millisecond later Metal Man flew across the room, smashing into the cot that Five was on a few minutes ago.

Kayla crossed her arms at them, "Hey asshats, stop wrecking shit in my house."

The Academy brothers looked at the two new guys, Diego and Five looking torn between deciding to fight or continue to stare in awe, and Klaus was holding in a laugh at the scene. Matthew looked each brother up and down, then glanced at the distances between each guy from girl. He knew Kayla, Emma, and Christina long enough that at least one of them had to be trying to get with one of the brothers, and seeing by the proximity of each to the other, he could make out the forming couples- not even needing to read their minds to figure it out. He then extended his hand to Klaus, him being the closest, "Matthew." Klaus tried to mimic the formality Matthew had just introduced himself, despite the hilarious scene of Brendan trying to untangled himself from the wrecked cot, "Hey pal, name's Klaus, sometimes I go by Seance though."

Matthew looked at his hand, noticing "goodbye" was written on it, "Yeah, you're the medium of the Hargreaves family."

Diego was the next one to approach him, "Diego, and if we're giving super names, Kraken." Matthew shook his hand and nodded, pulling his lips tight together as he did it. He had a habit of doing that, made his cheeks look real chubby. Next, he approached Five, "Five. No super name."

Brendan finally got himself to his feet, now his skin resembled the linen on the cot. He nodded towards the group, "Brendan. My girl calls me Metamorph."

Klaus looked at Matthew, "I think your name should be... Professor X- no wait, copyright- Mind Seeker- no too wordy... Psionic!"

Matthew seemed to think this over, "I like it. So Kayla, what's the deal with Max. I heard he's responsible for a bunch of the murders?"

She looked down, visibly upset by the situation, Matthew moved closer to her a put a hand on her arm, "Hey, sorry, that was too harsh."

She gave him a weak smile, and moved away, taking in a deep breath. "We're working on it, trying to find a way to take him out without killing him."

Brendan turned his skin back to a normal human hide, "I say we take out this motherfucker, I wanna strangle him."

Emma rolled her eyes, "Brendan his nails can rip through metal."

"So I'll turn into a rock."

Christina sighed, "Dumbass, metal is stronger than rock."

Brendan gestured towards Matthew, "Why doesn't he just get into his head?"

"Tried that. The guy doesn't have a single coherent thought. Dumber than the guy who can turn into a rock, surprisingly." Brendan flipped him off. "How's the tranquilizer going, Kayla?"

Klaus spoke up in her place, "Not well, we gotta-"

Matthew didn't like this, "I'm sorry, didn't realize your name was Kayla. Speaking of, where's your engineering degree, huh buddy?"

In return, Diego didn't like someone picking on his brother, "How about you calm down pal-"

Matthew turned on him, "No i won't calm down, I just saw one of my sisters get out of an abusive relationship, and there's no way in hell I'm letting that happen again-"

"Well my brother isn't fucking abusive, you self-worshipping bit-"

"Both of you shut the fuck up," Kayla's voice was low, and it was a distinct change from her normal, happier temperament. "We are working on something, I was hoping Klaus could help. Matthew, I am fine. Diego, don't start with him. Got it?" She looked between the two, and they nodded. "Good. Now, why don't we go back to the storage facility and check for anything?" She turned and left the room, and slowly everyone followed.

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