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#you couldn’t pay me to visit a haunted place i’m not messing with that kind of thing
arcanegalaxy · 3 years
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of all the phases i could’ve returned to why’d it have to be the paranormal one
i keep watching videos about creepy stuff at 3am what’s wrong with me
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beewolfwrites · 3 years
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An Iron Box - The Eternal Rocks
Apologies for the late update! My life has become a little hectic, so I haven’t been on Tumblr or AO3 as much. Hopefully I can make it up with new scenes that weren’t in AWIAF :) 
If you’re still following this fic, thank you for reading. It means the world <3
The AO3 link is here if you prefer reading it on there.
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I had stumbled across the copy of Wuthering Heights shortly after becoming an executive member. When I first moved into my room, it was tucked away in a drawer, and judging by the curled pages coated with dust, it had been there a while. I’d never cared enough to discard it, nor had I cared enough to read it. Until now.
The noon sunshine filtered through the windows as I sat on my bed, legs stretched out and book in hand. So far, it was a trivial mess – a ditsy story of childhood friends turned teenage lovers. Of course, this was the kind of book she would read. And if she really did have a Masters degree in literature, chances are she had already read it.
Yesterday, when I was called to the meeting room, I had an inkling as to what the fuss was about. And sure enough, there she was, dragged in like a stray by Niragi of all people. What terrible luck.
Well, for her at least.
Things had panned out just as I expected. If only she had come with me when I’d asked, she wouldn’t have had to deal with Aguni’s militants. They had given me the whole rundown of her Eight of Hearts game... how she’d solved it a little too late... how she’d accidentally set herself up by mentioning my name.
And now, I finally knew her name.
After showing her to her new room yesterday, I’d rolled it over on my tongue, memorising the foreign feel of it, the way the vowels stretched and consonants collided. It suited her, in a way. However, it seemed it would be a while before I could call her by it. According to the grapevine, she had disappeared into her room and hadn’t been seen since.
This morning, when I went downstairs to get breakfast, my eyes had instinctively scanned the crowded room, hoping to catch a familiar doe-eyed stare. But she was nowhere to be found.
‘Who are you looking for?’
Kuina had appeared beside me, balancing a bowl of cereal in one hand.
‘Nobody,’ I told her.
She wagged her finger, and through a mouthful of cereal, insisted, ‘don’t even think about lying to me. I can read you pretty well by now.’
I tried to ignore her noisy chewing. ‘I met a girl in a game.’
Kuina had wiggled her eyebrows at this, and something inside me instantly turned cold. If she thought I was involved in a petty romance then she could think again. I had no interest, and besides, this was hardly the place.
‘I believe we can use her in the plan. Niragi brought her in after a game yesterday.’
‘And there I was thinking you actually had a heart, hm?’ Kuina paused, her spoon dangling between her fingers. ‘I did hear there was a new girl, but nobody’s spoken to her yet. Do you want me to try and talk to her?’
I had mulled it over, but there was no point in rushing things. There was every chance she would emerge in her own time. It was like tempting a frightened animal out of its den and straight into a snare.
‘Not just yet,’ I said. ‘Let her feel hungry.’
‘You think she’ll come down for lunch?’
I smiled. ‘Probably not. But she’ll be hungry enough that when you do pay her a visit, she’ll want to trust you.’ Surveying the busy room, I added. ‘Keep an eye on the rumours. If she doesn’t come down in a few hours, bring her some food.’
‘Why me?’ Kuina scowled. ‘Why can’t you do it?’
Surely the reason was obvious. ‘She’s here because of me. I’m the last person she wants to speak to.’
Kuina had looked uncertain. But she couldn’t argue against it; we both knew I was right.
Now, several hours later, the sun was sinking and Kuina was probably about to pay (name) a visit. But I would leave that up to her. If Kuina befriended her, she would be much more willing to join our plan. Stretching my legs, I focused on the page in front of me.
‘It’s about life and finding meaning and purpose in everything.’
Her words from the pharmacy. Even now, they still rang clearly, haunting every recess of my mind. I didn’t care about finding meaning in life. I didn’t care at all. But I was curious about her obsession with fiction and poetry. What was it that drew her to books?  
What meaning does she see that I can’t?
My eyes landed on the words before me.
“My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.”
How could love be necessary? It wasn’t food or water. It couldn’t be quantified, had little value in life, and if anything, it was a weakness in the games. I had never once needed it myself, and here I was, still alive and breathing. The whole story was trivial, melodramatic and utterly pointless. And yet, my gaze was drawn to the next line and the next.
I suppose I could read it, even if only to ease this perpetual boredom.
“He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being—”
A bang rattled the windows as the door to my room flew open. Kuina was standing breathlessly in the doorway, that fake cigarette of hers clenched between her teeth.
‘You,’ she said, inviting herself in and moving towards the chest of drawers. ‘I need to borrow one of your hoodies.’
I flipped over to the next page. ‘Why?’
She yanked open each drawer one by one, plundering through the contents before slamming them shut. ‘I need a spare hoodie for (name). Or, you know, anything that’s not a string bikini.’
‘I see, so that’s why she was hiding.’ I smiled, eyes drifting over the page of my book. ‘What a stupid reason.’
Kuina glowered and jabbed a finger at me. ‘Oi, just because you’re too confident for your own good it doesn’t mean everyone else is. Tell me where your hoodies are now.’
I nodded at the cupboard. ‘The grey one on the left-hand side.’
She opened it up and pulled out the grey hoodie. Out of the three I owned this was the smallest. It was also the newest, having never been soiled by blood in a game before. ‘Are you sure?’
I shrugged and turned back to my book. ‘She can keep it.’
It may be useful to create a debt.
I expected Kuina to simply take the hoodie and leave me to read in peace. But she didn’t. She clenched the fabric in her fists, staring at it. Her jaw tightened around her plastic cigarette.  
‘Chishiya, she’s nice. She’s really nice.’
‘Everyone’s nice until you pit them against each other.’
She grimaced, fingers gripping the hoodie. ‘I don’t think... she’s not like that. What did you have planned with her anyway?’
‘We need someone to find the safe where the cards are kept. A guinea pig, so to speak. I’m going to set her up and we’ll take advantage of the distraction.’
Kuina looked uncomfortable with the idea. ‘I’m just not sure about this.’
Sighing, I gave up trying to read and snapped the book shut. ‘If you’re not sure, then drop out. I’ll leave with the cards and you can stay right here.’
Of course, Kuina was smart enough to know what the Beach would descend into once it became apparent that the cards were missing. And if I went missing along with them, she would be the first person they’d turn to. Judging by the look on her face, she seemed to be thinking the same thing.
‘Fine,’ she agreed at last. ‘But of all the people to choose, she really doesn’t deserve this.’
I smiled, thinking back to Niragi’s overdramatic retelling of their game. Apparently, it was a game of laser tag with handguns. She had shot a teenage girl in the chest and emerged without a scratch.
‘Perhaps you’ll think differently if you see her in a Hearts game,’ I said. ‘It’s human nature to be selfish.’
It’s human nature to kill in order to survive.
With a small hiss of disapproval, Kuina trailed out of the room and left me alone, taking the grey hoodie with her.
Finally.
Picking up the book once more, I scanned over the words on the page. The entire plot made no sense. Cathy’s choice was obvious right from the beginning – Linton offered protection and financial security. It was everything she needed to live comfortably, so what was the issue? Why would a person be so caught up just because of a childhood sweetheart? Heathcliff was equally as ridiculous, running away like a brat just because she said a few words behind his back. This was a book for naïve idiots.
No wonder she likes it.
And yet, I read and read until the sun slunk behind the skyline, the darkness creeping in slowly through the curtains until it became too dark to read. I could have easily turned on the bedside lamp and continued, but perhaps it was time to see how things were going with Kuina and (name).
The sooner they were friends, the easier this would become.  
Getting up, I left my room and headed downstairs. It was right before the games began – the time when the Beach was at its most lively, and everyone was busy living in the moment just in case these turned out to be their final moments.
I passed by a couple furiously groping one another behind a pillar.
People are all the same.
Stepping outside onto the patio, I scanned the throngs of drunken idiots stumbling around in a haze of skin, sex and drugs. And then I caught a glimpse of that familiar face, standing by the bar and dressed in my hoodie. A man was beside her.
And you are just like them.
For a moment, I simply watched on as the man – one of Niragi’s troupe – tried to make conversation with her. Considering the sheer volume of the music and her self-taught Japanese, I wondered if she understood him. Taking her drink from the bartender, she smiled and said something undecipherable before taking a step away.
Bad move. A gun glinted, pressing into her side.
Oh?
The look on her face told me everything. She wasn’t flirting with him after all. And now it was all too clear what this man wanted from her.
Such an unpleasant welcome.
Perhaps I should have just left her to it, since this was the true face of the Beach, the drop of cold hard reality hidden behind the façade of a utopia. Perhaps I should have her deal with the situation on her own, for better or worse. But how could I? This was a perfect opportunity to regain her trust.
I sidled up to the bar, glancing between the half-drunken idiot and (name), who was standing there wavering like a ghost. Her expression was detached yet poised, like a rabbit on the verge of fleeing. But she couldn’t – not with the hand wrapped around her wrist and the pistol set just below her ribs.
‘What’s this?’ I leaned against the countertop. ‘I see you’ve met our newest member.’
(Name) blinked, only just noticing my presence. I glanced down at the pistol, the barrel half-hidden in the fabric of her hoodie. My hoodie.
‘You should probably put that thing away. Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’
The militant only pushed the gun further into her torso, standing up straighter in a useless attempt at intimidating me. ‘You know, Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’
I almost smiled. This man wasn’t even an executive member. ‘Militant business,’ I said slowly. ‘It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’
He bristled, his finger tightening over the trigger. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Just shut up and stay out of this.’
Typical. Do I have to spell things out to everyone?
‘What I’m saying,’ I replied, ‘is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’
I met his gaze pointedly, watching as he finally started to come to an understanding. He squeezed (name’s) wrist until her fingers blotched white and purple, before finally letting go.
Pushing his face close to mine, he whispered a slurred mess that sounded a lot like ‘threaten me again and I’ll end you’, before striding off into the crowd. It wasn’t much of a threat, coming from someone who couldn’t quite walk in a straight line. But no matter, I wasn’t here for him.
I was vaguely aware of (name) watching me as I turned back to the bar. The bartender was wiping glasses, unbothered by what had just happened. He saw worse every day.
‘お水をください,’ I said. Water, please.
A glass was placed in front of me, and I calmly sipped my water, waiting patiently for the inevitable. About now, she was probably itching to thank me, but wondering how best to do it. An over-thinker, that’s what she was.
When she finally spoke, it was so quiet I could have easily missed it, if only I hadn’t been expecting it. ‘Thanks... I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’
You catch on fast.
‘Well, there are only three rules,’ I said, assessing the grey hoodie. It had been slightly too small on me but was oversized on her. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’
She looked mildly surprised. Had Kuina not mentioned that it was mine? If so, I wonder how she would react once she found out. Perhaps this was a tidbit of information I should keep to myself for now.
Speaking of Kuina, I could see her now, watching me nervously through the crowds from a recliner on the other side of the patio.
‘Of all the people to choose, she really doesn’t deserve this.’
Perhaps not. But that’s what made her perfect for the job.
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unlocktxt · 4 years
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more than just a memory | c.s.b
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Choi Soobin
❦ genre: angst, fluff, ghost soobin!au, soobin x reader
❦ description: moving into your new house, you expected to be met with peace and quiet, but everything doesn’t seem to go according to plan when your met with a tall lonely ghost named soobin.
❦ word count: 5.6k
❦ warning‼️: this includes/mentions death, loss, heartbreak, afterlife, and swearing
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The burning sun could be felt on your skin, tanning it as you ran down the never ending street. You checked your digital watch to see that you were now five minutes late to your moving in get together. Your absence would be evident to your close family and friends. The thought of your parents nagging about your tardiness only motivated you to move faster. You were running so fast that you just barely managed to dodge an old woman and her barking chihuahua. “Watch where you’re going before you kill someone’s dog!” You didn’t have to look at her to know that she was pointing her angry accusing finger at you. “Sorry miss!” You quickly turned the corner, finally on your street. You were relieved to know that the old woman wasn’t your neighbor. With the house in your sights you ran even faster, those years spent in track finally paying off. Practically feeling like a cheetah, it was hard for you to stop yourself as you approached the house. Trying to slow down was a useless attempt as you tripped. The stupid rock causing you to fly forward, foot hurting like a bitch. Your reflexes didn’t seem to be enough, but they still managed to get you to crash into the parked car, rather than the pavement. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the car alarm started blaring. At that moment, you were willing to dismantle that moving money eater. The car alarm suddenly stopped, causing you to face the small group of people on the porch. Well shit. Waving with a big smile on your face, you fought the urge to laugh at yourself and feigned innocent. This clearly didn’t work because when you made eye contact with your parents, you could practically feel the disappointment. Good thing you have your own house now. 
You made your way over to your favorite people, still out of breath from running. “Hi guys! So sorry I’m late. I uh... I had to go help this elderly woman catch her chihuahua that got loose.” You decided against telling them that you managed to get lost walking around the many, many blocks. Nodding your head in satisfaction, you thanked the old woman and her dog for saving you from the wrath of your parents. The only person who didn’t seem to fall for this was your friend, Taehyun, who shook his head in disapproval, although you knew he found it funny. “Let’s get this party started!” You ushered everyone inside as you made your way over to Taehyun and Beomgyu. “Okay so what the hell were you actually doing?” Taehyun raised an eyebrow at you, basically staring you down. You let out a sigh, knowing they would make fun of you. “I went out for a walk because I got spooked... and then I got lost.” Beomgyu immediately started laughing. “You- You got lost in your own neighborhood!” He couldn’t help his laughter, you were just too oblivious of your surroundings. Taehyun, who actually listened carefully, had more questions. “So why did you get scared in the first place?” Taehyun seemed interested in what you had to say, giving you the confidence you needed. “Well... the house is always kind of cold you know... and they say it could be because it’s haunted. I didn’t really mind it, but I swear I saw a reflection in the mirror.” You shivered just thinking about it. This caused Beomgyu to look around with wide eyes. “No way... your house is haunted!” Beomgyu shouted, causing Taehyun to put his hand over the loud man’s mouth. “She probably just isn’t used to being home alone, so she got paranoid.” Taehyun shrugged. To be fair... it does sound more reasonable, however, you could’ve sworn you saw a tall figure staring at you. Then again it only lasted for a split second. “Your parents brought cake, come on.” Taehyun got us back on track, but not before Beomgyu mouthed we should totally go ghost hunting. Ignoring the heavy feeling on your chest, you followed after them. What couldn’t be seen, was how Soobin lit up. So she did see me, he thought. After months of having an empty feeling, he finally felt something. Hope. He now made it his mission to get your oblivious self to notice him.
“I can’t believe our child is all grown up now.” Your mom’s eyes glossed over as she looked at you. “Mom don’t cry,” you chuckled at her pouty face, “you’re acting like I’m never going to visit you.” Shaking your head, you realized that you were going to be all alone in this house. Like a slap to the face, the thought of having to be completely independent hit you. The sudden realization scared you, but you knew it was about time to grow up. “I think that you’re still our little one, after all I’ll just be glad you don’t burn the house down.” Your dad’s joke had everyone laughing, they all knew how much he wanted to see you everyday. The memories of your childhood seemed to flash through your mind - the time your dad would always set you on the tree until you were able to climb up it just like him- or the time your mom chased you around the yard, trying to tickle your small self. These are the memories you would cling onto for the rest of your life. “I’m not that bad of a cook!” Sure you had caught noodles on fire, but that was like three years ago. You’ve improved since then, or so you thought. “There’s a reason no one asks you to cook.” Your mom admitted, to which you puffed your cheeks. You were being called out and your friends just nodded in agreement. The ultimate betrayal. “Then it’s a good thing I had you to take care of me. I probably picked up a few of your tricks.” Key word probably. 
Your parents weren’t going to stay long, that way you and your friends could have some fun. Just when you turned to walk your parents to the door, the plastic cup moved an inch. Soobin, who had moved it, quickly turned to look at you with a big, proud smile. “I just did that!” He was excited about his achievement that took ten minutes to pull off, but as he looked at your back facing him, his face fell. “You have got to be kidding me.” The poor invisible Soobin really wanted to take out his frustration, but as his fist went to collide with the wooden table, it went straight through. An exasperating sigh came from Soobin as he moved onto plan b. Having not seen this, you waved your parents goodbye, slowly closing the door before turning to your two friends. “I call the dog!” Beomgyu ran to the monopoly board that Taehyun set up, diving for the little piece. You happily scurried over to your friends as you grabbed the shoe before Taehyun could. “Oh I’m definitely going to make you go bankrupt for that one.” Taehyun grabbed the car, sending glares. From past experiences, the three of you decided to put away the hammers and any potential weapon. Rolling the dice to see who’s first, you punched the air as you rolled a 6, higher than the two of them combined. As you did so you could’ve sworn your hand brushed against something cold, but maybe it was just the air conditioning. Soobin, sitting directly beside you, jumped as a result of your fist going straight through him. Was monopoly really this exciting, Soobin wondered, now wanting to play along. The three of you, not noticing the ghost boy, started the game with you rolling the dice. Your game face was now on. You decided to buy the first property you landed on. Taehyun went next, landing on the same color, his face told you that he wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily. “Don’t you dare buy that property!” You wanted all of the greens, but Taehyun wasn’t letting you have that chance as he bought the property. “Fine then... I’ll just make you go bankrupt.” You were now going to make them pay.
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When the game ended you felt defeated. The look on Taehyuns face scared you. He truly was the monopoly master. “I can’t believe you took all of my money.” Beomgyu whined. It was now eleven at night, the game had lasted a while. “We should probably get going.” Taehyun said as he grabbed his stuff, taking a slice of cake with him. “Okay be safe on the way home.” You walked them to the door, waving their car goodbye.
Sighing, you couldn’t help but notice how chilly it was in the house. “Does the thermostat even work?” After messing with it a bit, you decided to just get a blanket, however, as you leaned over to grab one you met eyes with a man who looked similar to a bunny. “Get out before I call the cops!” You turned around quickly as you ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife. You could tell he was caught off guard as his eyes seemed to enlarge. He definitely wasn’t very good at whatever he’s doing. As you turned on your phone, he seemed to get the gist. He came running at you, panicking. You were terrified and did the first thing you could think of- stab him. Your hands shook as your eyes trembled, you didn’t know what to do, but you did know you were terrified. Your hand and knife just went straight through him. Now that Soobin knew you could see him, he put all his energy into taking your phone. You were stuck in shock at what was happening. When you finally gained enough sense to move, you backed up. “P-please don’t kill me!” You were helpless against an invincible man.
Soobin knew he shouldn’t scare you, but he wanted to have some fun before reassuring you, after all... he used to joke about haunting people. He slowly approached your cowering figure, trapping you against the wall with his body. His arms were placed beside your head and he stared, you didn’t have anywhere to go. This is when you got this brilliant idea, if the knife could go straight through him maybe you could too! His face was a little too close for comfort, so you quickly tried to catch him off guard and lean forward, however, when you expected your face to fall right through him, you ended up meeting with something hard. Not only did this shock you, but also Soobin. He did not expect you to lean in and kiss him... the warmth of your lips sparking a fire within him. You were now highly embarrassed on top of fearing for your life. “I... I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You know I just thought that I would go right through you... but that didn’t work. Please don’t kill me... just tell me what you want!” You rambled trying to get him to spare your life. Soobin had just gotten over the shock, now enjoying your flustered state. He smirked as he leaned closer, “Maybe another kiss.” That surely was not what you expected. Is that really what he wanted... or was it a trick? The tall black haired boy started laughing as he backed away from you. You were confused, but relieved as you finally let out the breath you were holding.
 “I actually want you to help me see my friends and family. You see... you’ve probably already guessed, but I’m a ghost and I’d like to say goodbye to them one last time.” His whole demeanor  had changed and you were now looking at a very cute guy. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “My names Soobin. I actually used to live here or well... still kind of do. Surprise you have a dead roommate because I can’t seem to leave the house.” This was not normal... at all. When you decided to live here, you didn’t think it was haunted. “May I ask when you died?” You couldn’t help yourself, you were curious. Besides if you were going to help him  then you’d need to know if these people were still alive. The humor he had before seemed to be a mask because once you asked this he had a distant look on his face. “If I remember correctly it was three months ago.” Something seemed to hit you, now looking at him you felt pity towards the ghost. You don’t know if you would’ve had a different reaction had he said something else, but you were now fighting the urge to cry due to his tragic situation. He was alone for three months, knowing that his loved ones were in pain missing him. The lump in your throat formed, “why don’t we sit down?” You grabbed his hand, almost retracting yours from the ice cold feeling. When you looked up at him, your eyes seemed like a mirror, reflecting the light as a burning feeling reached your nose. Don’t cry, you reminded yourself. Soobin, who had longed for the warm feeling, unconsciously tightened his grip on your hand as he moved closer. Noticing this warmed your heart, it relieved you that he seemed to enjoy your contrasting temperature. You wanted to give him the warmth he needed, so you placed another hand on his. The two of you smiled at each other before heading to the living room. His smile contained so much kindness, you wish you knew him before he had passed away.
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Soobin had talked on and on about his plan to get his friends and parents here. You could tell he was excited and thought a lot about how to this this, however, it didn’t seem that he thought of the consequences. It was a wholesome plan, but you just didn’t think it would work out. Although his plan wasn’t all that great, you knew that the reason he couldn’t find peace was because he didn’t get to say goodbye. You had to compromise. “Soobin,” you took a deep breath before looking him in the eyes, “I don’t think telling your loved ones that you’re a ghost is a good idea.” You were met with Soobin’s confusion. “Well they obviously won’t believe you at first, but that’s where I come-”
“No Soobin... I don’t think they should know that you’re still somewhat on this earth.” The hurt on his face tore you to shreds, he felt betrayed. “And why not? I thought you were going to help me.” Soobin released his grip on your hands, confusion turning into anger. His narrowed eyes were locked on you. “I still want to help you Soobin... it’s just... they have been adjusting to your death for three months. In other words, they are three months into grieving.” You hoped he would understand as you reached for his hand. Soobin’s pale face tensed up as he pulled his hand further away. “As if you would know. My parents need to know that I’m okay! You don’t know what it’s like, so keep your shitty opinion to yourself. If you won’t help me then I’ll figure out another way.” Venom was laced in his voice and you noticed he seemed to be going in and out of transparency. You stayed calm, “I could never know what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. We can think of another way. By telling them you’re a ghost, you’d be giving them hope to be with you again. They’d have to lose you all over again, who knows what could happen to you as a ghost. I’m sure it would hurt them to know that this whole time you were alone and not in a better place.” You hadn’t looked away from Soobin, so you were able to see his expression change. His furrowed brows seemed to drop as he looked at the ground, clearly upset. He looked lost, his hope of saying goodbye being stripped from him. You felt guilty that you were the one to make him like this, but it was the right thing to do. Or were you just telling yourself that?
 “What am I supposed to do now?” Soobin felt defeated, he was stuck in a place he didn’t belong. You slowly leaned into Soobin, looking for any sign of disapproval, and hugged him. The warmth that enveloped Soobin like a blanket was still able to give him comfort. “You could always write a letter and pretend you wrote it before you died.” You talked softly, scared that any harsher of a tone would break him even more. Soobin escaped from your hug with newly found hope, his red puffy eyes looking at your pity filled ones. “That’s a brilliant idea!” Soobin was sad that he wouldn’t get to have a conversation, but at least this would cause less pain. Looking at his excited self made you wish you thought of this plan sooner. You had just met this man, but you were completely willing to make him happy. You assumed it was just the fact that you’d want the same done for you. “Well let’s get some rest and then we can start on that tomorrow.” Soobin nodded, he didn’t need any sleep, but knew that it was important for you. You still managed to get the couch comfortable for him, even putting a heavy blanket over him just in case it would work. Although Soobin knew blankets would do nothing to ease the cold feeling, he felt warm on the inside as you tried to take care of him.
When you fell asleep Soobin hesistantly walked through the wall and into your room. His eyes softened as he looked at your relaxed form. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. Scared that if he didn’t stay beside you, he would be forgotten. Which led him to sitting beside your bed, holding your hand for the warmth.
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You could smell something delicious, making your mouth water as you woke up. With eyes halfway open, you made your way to the smell that was coming from the kitchen. “Oh you’re awake!” Soobin turned towards you, hearing your dragging steps. Seeing him like this made you feel like you lived with him for a while. You’re once tired eyes opened wide as you realized he was cooking. “You cook?” You asked as you walked over to him. “I cooked here and there when I was alive. I heard that you’re not a really good cook and thought that I could pay you back for your help.” Soobin’s small smile and words left your cheeks tinted red. “You didn’t have to do this.” You couldn’t help your watery mouth when you looked at the fresh pancakes. When Soobin looked at you he was overjoyed seeing your shining eyes looking at the pancakes. “Yeah I know, but I wanted to. Besides I thought you’d be hungry.” He slid the last pancake onto the plate as he brought it to the table. “I’m not that hungry...” You tried to play it off, but the rumble coming from your stomach betrayed you. Soobin chuckeled, “eat up. I can’t really eat.” You we’re stuck looking at Soobin. You didn’t even think about it... he couldn’t really enjoy pancakes anymore. Shaking away this thought, you spread the syrup and grabbed the fork in excitement. As you went to dig in, you saw Soobin staring at you with a smile on his face, causing you to slow down.
“So when do you want to start writing?” You swallowed a big piece of the pancake as you waiting for an answer. “I’ve actually started already. The problem is that I keep throwing them away because I don’t know what to say.” Soobin sighed, resting his chin on his palm. “Why don’t you try writing from the heart?” The words flowed out of your mouth, too busy focusing on your almost finished pancakes. Soobin looked at you, clearly unimpressed. “Why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait... I did.” You laughed a bit at his sarcastic tone, now putting up the dirty plate. Soobin came up behind you, grabbing your arm and swinging it. “I need help.” He pouted. “Well... have you tried starting with the memories you’ve shared? That way you can work your way up and really know what it is you want to say.” You used to write a lot of letters for your friends and this had always helped you.
Soobin nodded, heading over to the small table where tons of paper were sprawled about. By the time you got over there Soobin had already picked up the pen and started writing. Being the nosy person you are, you read over his shoulder, giggling at the cute memories he wrote down.
“No way... did you really set your couch on fire and try to hide it?” You were hunched over trying to catch your breath as you visualized a tiny Soobin sitting on the burnt fabric, never getting up in attempt to hide it. Soobin, watching your fit of laughter, smiles fondly. Your laughter was beautiful and he never wanted to let it go. “Says the one who nearly burnt her house down trying to cook.” Soobin added in, causing your laughter to come to a halt. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.” You cursed your dad in your head.
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You started to learn a lot about Soobin from reading about his life, to talking with each other. The longer Soobin was around, the more your head was filled with thoughts of him, but you blamed it on the fact that he was in the same room as you. “Ugh... I finally finished and need a break.” Without thinking about it, Soobin grabbed your hands and placed them on his chest. He couldn’t help but long for your warm touch. you were now pressed up against the chair and his back, leaving your face awfully close to his. The close proximity made your face heat up and when Soobin turned to look at you, you panicked. Coughing you withdrew your hands and backed up a bit. “Then let’s talk.” You pulled a chair next to Soobin and sat down. Soobin knew that he flustered you and he couldn’t help but enjoy it. He knew he was being selfish, but the feeling of his fake heart beating told him that he was starting to see you as more than the living girl willing to help him. You on the other hand, wouldn’t allow yourself to admit the reason behind your not so subtle glances at him that made your heart flutter. When you looked at him now he seemed different. He seemed... happy. Looking at him like this, you could easily mistake him for an everyday attractive boy. Couldn’t the two of you just stick together? The selfish thought of yours shocked you. If you did that then you’d be forcing him to live without his friends and family. Couldn’t you be enough? You quickly disregarded these thoughts, Soobin needed to find peace and you were not going to be the one to stop him. 
You didn’t notice your eyes getting watery until a single tear streamed down your cheek. Soobin managed to see this. “Maybe we should talk about this whole thing.” He suggested, leading you to the couch as you quickly wiped the tear away. He ended up laying his head on his thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay... what about it?” You asked with a heavy heart. “I know you’ve been wondering what I think about this whole situation.” You nodded your head, admitting to your prying mind. “I’m a little scared.” You could see where this was going, the look on his face showing concern as his eyes darted around. “I can’t help but wonder what comes next.” He took a deep breath in. “What if I get stuck here or if wherever I’m going isn’t as nice as it seems?” After telling this to you, Soobin felt the weight lift off of his shoulders, but you were stuck thinking about how he was going to go into the unknown. “Well... I don’t know. It depends what you believe, but what I do know is that you won’t have to feel out of place anymore. You’ll probably be comforted by the big bright light.” You yourself didn’t know what you believed, but Soobin’s glow was enough to reassure you he’d be alright. 
There was a soothing silence before Soobin spoke up once more. “I don’t want to be just another memory that gets forgotten.” Soobin was now looking at your eyes that were focusing on his hair. “You would never be just a memory, nor would you be forgotten. You lived Soobin and in everyone’s hearts you will stay alive.” His hands grabbed yours, placing them where his heart should be. This caused you to look into his ocean blue eyes. The eyes that once lacked life were filled with emotions, causing a fire to ignite within you. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you were falling for him. A forbidden relationship that should never exist. Maybe you didn’t want to admit this to yourself because you knew it would end in heartbreak, but you couldn’t seem to lie to yourself anymore. “Thank you.” Soobin wanted so badly to confess to you, but he was dead. He wanted to stay for you, but he knew it would only hold you back, so he kept his feelings to himself. He could tell you were being distant, so he made sure to continue. “You know... when I first saw you I knew there was something different about you, so I kept trying to get your attention.” Soobin wore a smile now, and you noticed that he was slightly glowing. He was ready to accept death completely and you had to live with that. “Well I’m glad I was finally able to meet you.” You successfully hid your sadness behind a smile. In order to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t, he decided to get the show on the road. “I guess you should head to Yeonjun’s house now.” Soobin hesitantly mentioned. The two of you looked at eachother in silence, both having so much to say, but keeping it all in. “Yeah... I guess so. Bye Soobin... I’m glad I could help you.” You quickly grabbed the envelopes as you left in a heartbeat.
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When you arrived at Yeonjun’s house, you didn’t think you would be this nervous. Hesistantly knocking on the door, you were trying to shake your nerves away. Maybe you should’ve mailed them. Your breath hitched while watching the wooden door open. The man who had opened it was young, blonde, and very handsome. “Hi, I’m looking for someone named Yeonjun. I found this letter left behind from the house I just moved into. Your address was on it.” The exact words that you rehearsed on your way here were hard to get out. “Okay well... I’m Yeonjun.” He looked at you weirdly, probably ready to call the cops if anything went south. “It says it’s from Soobin.” With that one name Yeonjun’s happy exterior seemed to deflate. “Oh... thank you.” His shaky voice broke your heart, you knew they’ve been best friends for the longest. “I hate to ask this... but there’s also one for someone named Hueningkai.” The boy infront of you clearly was having a hard time dealing with Soobin’s death. “He’s actually here right now. I’ll take it to him.” You handed him the other letter, reluctant to leave. “You know, you look like his type.” You looked up at the blond best friend with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”
“Soobin.” His answer left a bitter sweet feeling in you as you just smiled and nodded before walking away. You were close to tears, but wanted to be strong for Soobin. Seeing his parents could potentially break your heart even more, but you knew it was for the best. You used everything you could to distract yourself from the sad thought, now choosing to look at the different colors of the pavement. You must’ve been so distracted that you managed to forget about the world around you, that was until the unfamiliar door opened. You were now looking at a man that resembled Soobin in many ways, just older. It was obvious this was his dad. His sunken eyes were a little too noticeable and you were correct, your heart was breaking piece by piece. It was almost like you were reliving the life that was lost. Just seeing the people he wrote about left images of what the memories looked like to you. Why did the world have to take away this young twenty-two year old? Holding back the tears, you once again said what was rehearsed, like a broken record. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but these two notes were left behind from where I just moved. They had your address on them and it’s from someone named Soobin.” His already sad eyes seemed to fall deeper in the darkness as he shakily took the letters, with a faint thank you. Before he could close the door you couldn’t help yourself and went off script. “Your son must really love you. I bet he’d want you to live a nice, long, and happy life.” You could tell he considered your words, finally walking into the house with his shoulders raised. The moment the door shut was when you realized that Soobin should’ve found peace by now. Instead of crying, you decided to hold it all in.
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You didn’t realize how lonely you could feel until you opened the door. You kept reminding yourself that he had found peace, but you just felt numb. that was until you saw the tall black haired ghost looking at you with a frown. You wish your heart didn’t flip when you saw him. You wish that you didn’t hope to see him one last time. Although you wanted to be happy for this moment with him, you panicked. “What are you doing here? You should’ve found peace!” Did something go wrong? “Y/N... the reason I can’t move on yet is... is because of you.” You didn’t know how to react. His words sent a surge of emotions through you, causing you to lash out. “Soobin you can’t stay here! There’s nothing keeping you here! I’m okay with you leaving!” The lies left your mouth, anything to have him move on. Soobin didn’t say anything as he walked over to you, strongly pulling you against him. His hand pushed your head against his chest as he rubbed your back. “Please...” the anger left your body as you struggled to keep your tears back. “I couldn’t leave yet because it didn’t feel right. I never gave you a proper goodbye. Now... it’s okay to cry, I’ll miss you too.” He seemed to hug you tighter, his words relieving you. “Why did you have to die?” Tears ran down your cheeks as you started to shake from your choked sobs. “I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t keep you here.” Soobin’s shirt was getting drenched as you continued to cry into it. 
He pushed you back a little so he could look into your eyes. “I like you Y/N and I’m sorry that we had to meet like this.” His eyes were red and puffy, but you didn’t have time to say anything before he leaned in, placing his cold, soft lips against yours. The kiss was passionate, the two of you never wanting to let go of this moment. You grew to enjoy his cold comforting touch, but it was slowly disappearing. When your lips left eachother Soobin made sure to put his hand over your eyes. “Please... just keep your eyes closed.” You listened to his last wish, shaking as you choked out a goodbye. The little trace of cold was replaced by warmth, causing you to fall to your knees as your eyes opened. You were met with an empty living room. For once, the house felt warm, but this could never make up for the internal warmth that had been stripped from you.
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The next day was hard. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and you seemed to zone out the whole day. People continued on with their lives as if nothing happened, but you knew and that was enough. You were able to say goodbye and you were grateful for that. When you got home and tossed your keys on the dresser, you became aware of the white envelope with Soobin’s handwriting. You were delicate with the envelope, not wanting to rip it. This letter was to you, the last thing you had of Soobin.
Dear Y/N,
You told me to write about my memories and work my way up. Sadly, we didn’t have much time together, however, every moment spent with you meant a lot to me. The days can get hard, but life is worth living. Even when everything seems to be going wrong, there is always something good right around the corner. Anyways, I’m sorry for scaring you that night, although I wish I could’ve messed with you some more before I leave...or left. I’ve never met someone who has made me feel the way you do. If you’re willing, I’d like to meet you in another life. Our time together was too short. I want to thank you as well. Thank you for helping me move on and for finally being able to save me from the cold. Please don’t cling onto me, I’d like you to move on as well. Let’s both be happy. Thank you for keeping me alive in your heart.
Love, your ghost boy Soobinie
182 notes · View notes
imekitty · 4 years
Note
If you're interested, I'd have a suggestion for a DP oneshot: it takes place in a classroom, with only Danny and Paulina in it since they're retaking a test they failed. Unfortunately for Paulina, she still doesn't have a clue about the right answers; Danny, on the other hand, having spent a lot of time studying, knows exactly what to do and is almost done. But just as he's about to put his signature, Paulina walks up to him and sweetly asks him what he would like to do since there's still ...
So I know you sent more asks basically giving an entire outline from start to end. However, because I like more freedom when writing, I’ve decided to go with the premise of Danny and Paulina in detention together to get help for a failed test and create my own story. I encourage you to write your full idea yourself if you would like to see it! :)
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“Danny, why are you still here?” asked Sam as she shut her locker. “Lancer’s gonna be mad if you’re late for detention.”
Danny groaned. “You’re right. I’m going.”
“Good luck, dude,” said Tucker. “Text us when you’re done and we’ll meet you at Nasty Burger or something.”
Danny grumbled agreement and headed to Lancer’s classroom. Lancer gave him a dull stare from behind his desk as Danny reached the doorway.
But there was another student sitting at one of the front desks, a student who escalated Danny’s heartbeat.
“Paulina?” Danny stammered. “Am I interrupting something? Should I wait outside?”
“No, Mr. Fenton,” said Lancer. “Miss Sanchez also failed our most recent test, so I’m giving both of you some extra help.”
“Hi, Danny,” greeted Paulina, her voice sweet and sultry.
“Hi.” Danny felt stuck in the doorway but forced himself to walk into the room. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to see you here.”
Paulina laughed. “Well, I can’t say the same about you. This is exactly where I’d expect to see you.”
Danny took a seat next to Paulina. “I don’t actually get detention that often, you know.”
“Yes, you do, Mr. Fenton,” said Lancer, turning to face the whiteboard and write notes with a fresh blue marker. “You currently hold the record for most detentions received in a semester.”
Danny blushed. Paulina giggled softly.
Lancer began drawling on about some poet who died but Danny could barely pay attention. Oh, he certainly tried, but being so close to the most beautiful girl in school was really hurting his concentration.
He stole glances at her out of the corner of his eye. And one time, he swore he could see her looking at him as well.
After lecturing for some time, Lancer assigned a few independent practice exercises from their textbook and disappeared out into the hall. Danny could hear the voice of another English teacher in the school and knew Lancer would likely be talking to her for a while.
Danny looked down at his textbook. He was supposed to answer questions about poetry devices or some other thing he still didn’t really get. He had no idea why English was such a pain in the ass. He definitely didn’t know why he had to learn all this crap about poetry, like when was that ever going to help him fight ghosts or do anything actually important?
His gaze travelled down the textbook page to his blank sheet of paper and then across and off his desk to Paulina, who was busy writing. She stopped when she caught him staring at her.
“Can I help you with something, Danny?” she asked, her tone snide but kind.
“Sorry.” Danny sucked his teeth. “So, um… You failed the test too, huh?”
Paulina breathed hard out her nose and sat back in her seat. “Yeah. I didn’t really have the time to study, you know? And I guess I didn’t realize it would be as hard as it was.”
“Didn’t have time to study?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m not, like, stupid.” Paulina chuckled. “I could’ve passed if I just wasn’t so busy.”
“Busy with what?” asked Danny. “Do you and the A-List hang out a lot?”
“Sure, but that’s not what keeps me busy. Cheerleading, for one. We have to practice all the time, sometimes even in the morning. And the mornings we don’t practice, I’m still getting up early to get in a run and some exercise. I’m the cheerleading captain, you know. I have to keep everyone at their best and motivated. Every day, I’m working out choreography for new routines and figuring out new fundraising ideas.”
“Don’t you have a coach for that?”
“Yeah, of course, but I still do a lot. Cheerleading isn’t just some silly girls’ activity, you know.”
“I—I didn’t say it was—”
“I have to make sure everything and everyone is ready for practice.” Paulina pulled back a finger on one hand as she listed off responsibilities. “I have to text all the girls and let them know about changes in our practice schedule or upcoming events. If any of the girls aren’t getting along, I have to try to keep the peace as much as possible so that we’re still a team. I’m also the one greeting visiting cheer squads during games, making them feel welcome at our school.”
“I didn’t know you did all that,” said Danny.
“The coach manages our time and schedule and makes sure none of the girls are failing in their classes, things like that, but I’m the one really communicating with the girls, you know?” Paulina sighed. “But I wish that was all I had going on.”
“You’re busy with other things?”
“Yeah, being as popular as I am, I’m often being asked by teachers and student clubs to do things. Advertising stuff, endorsing student council candidates, making appearances, giving fashion advice for uniforms. And I never turn anyone down, I always say yes.” Paulina leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wish I could just say no.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Danny.
“Because it’s expected of me. Being popular means doing things to maintain that popularity. If I start turning people down, they’re gonna think I’m a bitch, you know?”
“But you turn guys down for dates all the time.” Danny smiled and propped his elbow on his desk. “Me being one of them.”
Paulina also smiled. “Personal things like that are okay to turn down. I mean like anything to do with the school and clubs. Of course I can’t just date every guy who asks me out. Can’t give the impression I’m easy either.”
She looked ahead at the whiteboard, her smile vanishing.
“I do get a lot of guys asking me out,” said Paulina. “I know it’s just because I’m pretty. But looking this pretty all the time is work too. I have to eat right and watch my weight and exercise and spend half an hour each night on my skin care routine and an hour each morning on my hair and makeup and then touchups throughout the day. I never know when someone might take a picture of me and send it around. I can’t risk ever looking bad.”
“You have never looked bad,” said Danny. “Like ever.”
Paulina’s smile returned. “Thank you. That’s sweet.” She groaned and stretched out her arms. “But I tell you, Danny. I probably only get three to four hours of sleep a night. I’m running on coffee and energy drinks all day long. This detention is really cutting into my time, too. I’m probably gonna be up late finishing all my other homework.”
She continued to stretch. Danny normally might’ve enjoyed watching her but he was too struck by her words.
She only got three to four hours of sleep a night?
But… That was how much sleep he usually got a night.
And yet she looked amazing every day and he knew he was just a pale haunted mess with dark eyes.
“So what about you, Danny?”
Danny blinked. “Hmm?”
“Why did you fail this test?” asked Paulina.
“Oh. Um.” Danny looked up and to the right. “I was also too busy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Paulina tossed a piece of hair over her shoulder. “You do come to class late a lot. Do you have like some sort of astronomy club meeting in the morning?”
“Astronomy club?”
“Yeah, don’t you like space and stuff?”
“Oh. Yeah! I do. But I’m not in the astronomy club.”
“Really? I would think you’d be their president.” Paulina chuckled. “Well, are you in any school clubs, then?”
Danny thought about the meetings he had with Sam, Tucker, and sometimes Jazz about their ghost-fighting strategies. “Not school clubs, no.”
“Any extracurricular activities at all? I know you don’t play any sports.”
“No…”
Paulina pursed her lips. “Well, then what is it that keeps you too busy to study?”
Danny looked off to the side, humming softly to himself.
“I often see you with Sam and Tucker after school at the Nasty Burger. Or on Saturdays at the mall.”
Danny turned back to her. “Well, yeah, we like to hang out after school to wind down. Don’t you hang out with your friends? You don’t do all that work all the time, do you?”
“Yeah, of course! I’m actually scheduled to hang out with them right after detention.”
“Scheduled?”
“Yeah. It’s important to me to make time for my friends, so I often schedule it to make sure it happens.” She tapped open her calendar on her phone and showed it to him. “I even keep Saturday nights free for possible dates, see?”
Danny stared at the empty slot under Saturday and wondered if this was a hint and if she wanted him to ask her to go out on Saturday.
But no way was he about to risk embarrassing himself by asking.
“So do the three of you do something that keeps you too busy to study?” Paulina put her phone back in her lap. “You, Sam, and Tucker, I mean.”
Danny scratched through his mind, raking for something, anything that wasn’t the truth but also maybe not a complete lie. He couldn’t let Paulina think he was just lazy and hung out with his friends eating burgers or walking around the mall all day.
“We, uh… Yeah.” Danny pretended to cough. “We help my parents out with their research.”
“Research?” Paulina scrunched her mouth. “You mean, like, ghost stuff?”
Danny nodded. “We sometimes test out their inventions.”
“That sounds kind of dangerous. Is it?” Paulina narrowed her eyes, appearing to scrutinize him. “Is that why you so often have injuries? Like that bruise by your collarbone there?”
Danny hastily tugged at his shirt collar. “Oh. You noticed that?”
“Yeah. Of course. A lot of people notice you’re often sporting some new cut or bruise.”
“Oh. Well, that’s, uh—”
“I’ve even heard some teachers say they might need to call CPS.”
Danny’s stomach flopped. “What?”
“Yeah, I hear lots of things teachers say since I’m around the whole school a lot.” Paulina shrugged. “But I’ve noticed Sam and Tucker sometimes have injuries as well. So is it from helping your parents out with their ghost research?”
“No, it’s not like that!” said Danny quickly, almost panting with the effort. “We just sometimes test out their inventions, give feedback, strategize on how to catch certain ghosts. Just stuff like that, nothing huge.”
“Ooh, catch ghosts like the ghost boy?” Paulina’s tone changed to almost a squeal. She held her hands near her chest.
“Uh.” Danny swallowed. “Well—”
“If your parents do ever catch him, you must let me know, okay?”
“I—”
“Because then I can get the A-List together so we can find a way to rescue him!”
Danny stared at her. “You’d really do that?”
“Well, of course! The ghost boy has done so much for all of us. He even saved my life once, you know! I could never just let him be captured.” Paulina lowered her voice. “Oh, but please don’t tell your parents that.”
Danny slowly nodded, holding back a smile. “Oh, sure, I would never tell them that. You have my word.”
“Here. You should have my number.” Paulina ripped off a corner of her notebook paper and scribbled some numbers on it before handing it to him. “Call or text me if they ever catch him, okay? Please?”
Danny took the piece of paper from her, feeling like he was in some sort of trance. Did this just happen? Did Paulina Sanchez, the most gorgeous girl in all of Casper High, just give him her number? To her cell phone? Like her personal cell phone?
He very carefully folded and placed the paper in his pocket. “Sure, absolutely. I’ll definitely call you if they catch him.”
She smiled and hummed, such a cute sound that made his heart flitter. But then her smile faded when her gaze travelled to his collarbone. Danny casually raised his shoulder and pulled his arm across his body to cover the bruise.
“So.” Paulina’s pretty full lips smacked. “If those injuries you keep getting aren’t from helping your parents with their inventions, then where are they from?”
Danny could feel sweat forming behind his ears.
“I mean, you’re not really that clumsy, are you?” Paulina chuckled.
Danny also chuckled, not really sure why except that she was doing it and he had no idea what else to do because he couldn’t tell her the truth and yes he was clumsy but no not that clumsy but what else could he tell her?
What would protect his parents? What would protect him?
Her expression grew warier the longer he stayed quiet.
The classroom door opened. Danny and Paulina promptly faced forward and hunched over their desks.
“Sorry I was gone so long,” said Lancer as he reclaimed his spot at the head of the room. “How are you two understanding everything?”
Paulina looked up and smiled, a secret smile Danny could tell was meant for him even though she never once glanced in his direction. “I think we’re understanding just fine, Mr. Lancer.”
Lancer looked over her notebook page and nodded his approval. Danny had no idea why he even bothered to try covering his completely blank page when Lancer came to look over his work.
“Why am I not surprised,” muttered Lancer. He knelt beside Danny’s desk with a sigh. “All right, Mr. Fenton. Let’s do this first one together to get you started.”
Behind Lancer, Danny could see Paulina flash him a smirk before returning to her own work.
He had always thought he was just busier than other students, had more responsibilities and expectations than everyone else. But he didn’t even have extracurricular activities like most students. Ghost fighting was his extracurricular activity. And somehow Paulina and everyone else still managed to do okay so why couldn’t he?
Maybe he really wasn’t that different from other kids his age after all.
Lancer was trying to talk him through something. Paulina was still wearing a small smile as she did her own work.
Danny nodded to himself and focused. He could do this. He could be like everyone else.
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ceoofuwu · 3 years
Text
𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 ;; 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘪𝘬𝘪 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
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𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟐𝐤
𝐀/𝐍: It was high time my shitty brain produced some Tamaki material. I mean, this baby cinammon roll is so UwU I CAN’T HELP IT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AJWBJHSJDKJFKLS *faints*
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Nightmares can be a pain in the neck... everyone knows that... but when you end up waking up every night in cold sweat, you must certainly take action...
𝐓.𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of blood
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Blood.
Bloodshed.
Bloodshot eyes.
Walls covered in blood.
Trembling, quick breaths.
Desperate steps, rummaging hands.
Vision, audition, touch on red alert.
Where are my friends?
Screaming echoing through the empty building.
A heart on the ready to explode, as your footsteps became faster and faster and your eyes met with the butchered corps of...
"TAMAKI!" you screamed on the top of your lungs as you rose from a terrible, bloody nightmare all covered with sweat.
Your body shook with fear, still unable to handle this unhealthy dose of scare deriving from that dream. With your breathing remaining stubbornly irregular, you took a quick look at your surroundings, realising that you were in your bedroom, safe and with no sign of blood around.
It was just a dream... Just a dream...
But why did it feel so real?
You couldn't help it; the worrying. Amajiki Tamaki was no ordinary person, and especially in terms of power. People like him were easily made targets and of course you had every right to worry, not only as a friend but also as a girlfriend.
The second part actually turned out way beyond your expectations and it was really enjoyable, excluding the fact that you felt uneasy about his safety 90% of the time.
As of the latest days, those absurd nightmares were haunting you relentlessly. Every night it was the same pattern: you woke up, disheveled and messed up as you could get, tried to calm down and finally went out of your bedroom to check if everyone else is okay. Sleeping for the rest of the night was questionable.
However, tonight, you felt the desperate need to cry. You weren't sure why. Maybe you had to let that tension out somehow. Then again, what with your mind playing such nasty games you felt like you hated yourself. Therefore, it didn't really matter what was the reason of your crying, it was merely a need.
Getting up from your bed, you fixed your hair a little, and begun to walk outside, in the empty corridors of the U.A. dorms. You tried to empty your mind and let loose as you wandered around, to the point you didn't even realise when tears started their steady descent, soaking your beautiful face in the process.
A dream's a dream... everyone is alive and well... alive and well... Tamaki is safe just as much as I am... safe...
The tears had blurred your vision when you absent-mindedly found yourself in front of the door of a dorm, whose name you hadn't noticed.
AMAJIKI TAMAKI
You were subconsciously led there. You didn't think, decide, or plan. It looked as if some kind of puppeteer manipulated you from above. Not that you didn't need to pay a visit of that kind.
You were afraid, and aching with the thought of what you saw in your dream coming true, although that was highly unlikely. Tamaki would be the only sunshine in your moody days, the only ray of hope when you felt lost. Even though he sort of had a hard time with his anxiety.
With the tears lining your face and your body dealing with the not welcomed aftereffects of the nightmare, you gently knocked on the door before getting in and closing it behind you as carefully as you opened it.
You were aware that Suneater would be asleep, just like everyone else in 3AM, so you had no intention of disturbing his sleep in an impolite way.
Little by little, as you struggled to diminish your silent sobs, you made your way to his bed, and kneeled beside it.
He looked so beatific in his sleep. As if somehow he had solved all his problems and realised all his wild dreams. Happy and peaceful. Cute, also, what with his messy bangs falling over his face or simply being messed up.
You outstretched your hand timidly and placed it gently on the soft skin of his cheek. He smiled satisfied at the contact, which made you feel proud and encouraged but also quite envious of the fact that he enjoyed a peaceful sleep.
"T-Tamaki-san..."
Wake up, I need you, Suneater.
Lips stretching even more, eyes lazily rising and the skin under your palm hearing up as Tamaki's dazed face met yours.
"Y-Y/n-san...!" he exclaimed and immediately got up, rushing to hide his embarrassed face in his palms.
"It's o-okay..., Tam-maki-san..." You voiced, your head lowering in your miserable attempt to hide your pathetic state.
But, Tamaki wasn't an idiot. He wasn't carefree, either. Actually, he cared more than he normally should. When he heard your voice cracking, his hands slid off his face on their own volition to allow to his eyes to see the heart-breaking sight before him.
"Are you... are you crying?! Did I... did I d-do something wrong?" he asked frantically, his heart racing inside his chest even at the mere thought that he could have done something to hurt you.
"I..." You wiped some of your tears, "I had... a nightmare..." You admitted, suddenly feeling as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, "...and, it was a-about you, Tamaki-san..."
"Are you alright, now?"
You lowered your gaze in inhibition as you fought to restrain other tears from falling down your face.
"It's been t-torturing me for a few days now... I'm almost sleep d-deprived and..." You took a deep breath, "I think I came here because... I want to... s-sleep with you, Tamaki-san..." You confessed, as your face reddened probably like the common traffic light that forces the vehicles to stop.
Obviously, you weren't the only one to feel uncomfortable.
"Sle...sleep... w-w-with... me?!" he managed, barely pronouncing the last word.
"Not that way!!" you almost yelled, shaking your hands in denial as if you were performing some sort of awkward choreography. "I mean...just... sleep... you know... cuddle..."
"Cuddle?"
You nodded and stood up.
"W-won't we n-need... A second... pillow...?"
You giggled at his adorable innocence, almost forgetting the psychological thriller you'd been through, as you carefully sat beside Tamaki on the mattress.
"Lie down, Tamaki-san... we're just sleeping..." You instructed with another cute giggle.
Tamaki did as he was told and you lay on his chest, listening to his incredibly fast heart rate.
"What are we--"
Your legs moved with extreme care and got tangled with his feeling the pleasant that was radiated from him even more.
"You're warm, Tamaki-san."
A strong arm folded around your waist and brought you closer to your boyfriend's built body as the other found your hand and got it's fingers intertwined with yours.
"Is this... c-cuddling?"
"Mhm..."
"We should d-do it... m-more... often..."
Yes, we should, was the phrase that didn't make it out of your lips, as your eyelids suddenly felt too heavy and all your senses were somehow shut down by the wonderful presence beside you.
We're safe.
Sweet slumber took you away after a long time and no other nightmares appeared as the dreamcatcher was driving them far away...
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honeylemondrop · 3 years
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Took those sticks and stones, showed 'em I could build a house They tell me that I'm crazy, but I'll never let 'em change me 'Til they cover me in daisies, daisies, daisies
BASIC QUESTIONS
First name? Haven
Surname? Lemos
Middle names? Benita
Nicknames? Havey, Honey (only Beck)
Date of birth? October 8
Age? 28
PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE
Height? 5’8
Weight? 145
Build? slim
Hair colour? Light brown
Hair style? Loose and straight
Eye colour? green
Eye Shape? almond
Glasses or contact lenses? glasses
Distinguishing facial features? Eyes
Which facial feature is most prominent? lips
Which bodily feature is most prominent? skin
Other distinguishing features?
Skin? tan
Hands? petite
Make up? always
Scars? On her hands from failed experiments
Birthmarks? A brown patch shaped like a butterfly
Tattoos? no
Physical handicaps? no
Type of clothes? The latest fashions
How do they wear their clothes? Usually tight and out of the way
What are their feet like? Average
Race / Ethnicity? Cuban/Spanish
Mannerisms? She talks with her hands and get louder the more excited or angry she is
Are they in good health? yes
Do they have any disabilities? no
PERSONALITY
What words or phrases do they overuse? Carajo, dammit,
Do they have a catchphrase? no
Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? realistic
Are they introverted or extroverted? introverted
What bad habits do they have? Forgetting to eat and not sleeping enough
What makes them laugh out loud? The silliest things
How do they display affection? A gentle touch and kind words
Mental handicaps? No
How do they want to be seen by others? innovative
How do they see themselves? Trying her best
How are they seen by others? Kind, intelligent and motivated
Strongest character trait? determined
Weakest character trait? self-critical
How competitive are they? Not really
Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Time to consider
How do they react to praise? well
How do they react to criticism? She takes it in because she wants to do better
What is their greatest fear? To never accomplish her goal
What are their biggest secrets? She’s terrified most of the time that something will fail and there will be no coming back from it
What is their philosophy of life? Enjoy it while it’s here
When was the last time they cried? Last tuesday because of an animal documentary
What haunts them? ...Tadashi’s death
What are their political views? none
What will they stand up for? The people who can’t stand up for themselves
Who do they quote? Einstein, Tesla,
Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? indoorsy
What is their sinful little habit? Uh, hmm, men? And chocolate.
What sense do they most rely on? Smell, usually the experiment smells before it blows up
How do they treat people better than them? The same
How do they treat people worse than them? The same
What quality do they most value in a friend? Honesty.
What do they consider an overrated virtue? Courage. Bravery leads to stupid mistakes.
If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? She wouldn’t change anything
What is their obsession? chemistry
What are their pet peeves? When people don’t listen to other and act like they’re better
FRIENDS AND FAMILY
Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Big, parents and siblings and family in Cuba
What is their perception of family? She loves her family. She thinks family is the love no one else can give you.
Do they have siblings? Older or younger? She’s the eldest, a younger brother and sister
Describe their best friend. Fred Fredrickson. He’s an outgoing, creative guy who is always there for her.
Ideal best friend? Someone who balances her out.
Do they have any pets? No
Who are their natural allies? Fred, Reagan, Emily, Penny
Who are their surprising allies? Beckham Teague
PAST AND FUTURE
What was your character like as a baby? As a child? She was a bright bubbly baby that learned to walk and talk quickly. An inquisitive child that drove her parents crazy with a million questions.
Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor
Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? nurtured
What is their greatest achievement? Getting into college without debt but her PH.D is killing her financially
What was their first kiss like? A mess, she had braces, he was chewing gum.
What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Not tell them she loved them.
What are their ambitions? To change the world and be able to make it a better place through science
What advice would they give their younger self? To take more risks.
What smells remind them of their childhood? Roses because her mother would grow them in their garden.
What was their childhood ambition? To be a scientist
What is their best childhood memory? Cooking with her mom and siblings
What is their worst childhood memory? Being made fun of because she was taller than everyone else.
Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? no
LOVE
Do they believe in love at first sight? nope.
Are they in a relationship? …..nope.
How do they behave in a relationship? She’s completely loving and attentive. She cooks for them and spends time with them.
When did you character last have sex? Ask Beck.
What sort of sex do they have? The sexy kind?
Has your character ever been in love? yes
Have they ever had their heart broken? yes
CONFLICT
How do they respond to a threat? She’s very logical
Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, she’ll tear you to shreds with her words.
What is your character’s kryptonite? Someone who needs to be saved
If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Her journal with her notes
How do they perceive strangers? She’s very trusting but not naive.
What do they love to hate? Bad fashion
What are their phobias? She’s afraid of chickens because she got chased by one when she was a kid
What is their choice of weapon? Science
What living person do they most despise?
Have they ever been bullied or teased? She was constantly teased for her height.
Where do they go when they’re angry? She yells. A lot. Sometimes in Spanish and sometimes she just screams.
Who are their enemies and why? None…yet!
WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES
What is their current job? She’s an underpaid intern at PymLabs
What do they think about their current job? It’s fascinating.
What are some of their past jobs? Waitress, daycare teacher
What are their hobbies? Reading, singing and cooking
Educational background? Currently working on her PH. D
Intelligence level? Genius
Do they have any specialist training? She’s trained in handling lab safety and CPR/First Aid certified.
Do they have a natural talent for something? She’s a good singer
Do they play a sport? Are they any good? She played basketball but hated it.
What is their socioeconomic status?
FAVORITES
What is their favorite animal? Tiger
Which animal do they dislike the most? Snakes
What place would they most like to visit? Japan
What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? Sunset in Cuba
What is their favorite song? No te pido flores by Fanny Lu
Music, art, reading preferred? Reading
What is their favorite color? Yellow
Favorite food: rice
What is their favorite work of art? Irises by Van Gogh
Who is their favorite artist? Banksy
What is their favorite day of the week? Tuesday
POSSESSIONS
What is in their fridge? Fresh vegetables, juice, milk and someone else’s beer
What is on their bedside table? Book, post it notes and pens
What is in their car? Doesn’t have one
What is in their bin? Trash? Probably lots of paper
What is in their purse or wallet? Lipsticks, bandaids, hair ties, candy
What is in their pockets? Paper clips, hair clips
What is their most treasured possession? Her teddy bear that her grandma made her, Raul.
SPIRITUALITY
Who or what is your character’s guardian angel?
Do they believe in the afterlife? That there will be something
What are their religious views? She believes in God but no religion
What do they think heaven is? A place where one feels loved
What do they think hell is?
Are they superstitious? Nope.
What would they like to be reincarnated as? Bird.
How would they like to die? In her sleep at old age
What is your character’s spirit animal?
What is their zodiac sign? Libra
VALUES
What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Other than being unsliced, lied to.
What is their view of ‘freedom’? It’s not easy
When did they last lie?
What’s their view of lying? She hates it.
When did they last make a promise? She promised Hiro she wouldn’t cry
Did they keep or break their last promise? She broke it.
DAILY LIFE
What are their eating habits? She either eats really healthy or not at all because she forgets
Do they have any allergies? She’s allergic to shellfish
Describe their home. Neat and tidy for the most part, utter chaos if she loses something
Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist
What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Yoga, because she’s better than me
What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Enjoy reading a book with some cafe con leche because that’s what I do.
What do they do on a Friday night? Usually hang out with someone
What is the soft drink of choice? Sprite
What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Wine
MISCELLANEOUS
What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? She’d dress up as sailor moon
Are they comfortable with technology? Extremely
If they could save one person, who would it be? She couldn’t choose
If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Beckham
What is their greatest extravagance? Her louboutins
What is their greatest regret? Not telling Tadashi she loved him
What is their perception of redemption? Understanding what was wrong and making amends
What would they do if they won the lottery? Buy her family a house and pay for her PH.D and open her own lab
What is their favourite fairytale? Doesn’t have one
What fairytale do they hate? Hansel and Gretel
Do they believe in happy endings? Yes, but you have to make them happen.
What is their idea of perfect happiness? Having accomplished all her goals alongside her family, the one she has and one she would make.
What would they ask a fortune teller? Nothing
If your character could travel through time, where would they go? She’d stop Tadashi.
What sport do they excel at? None
What sport do they suck at? All of them
If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? She’d choose magic but she’d never admit it.
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twiistedgalaxies · 3 years
Text
Genesis: Chapter 6: Pill Capsules and Scrambled Eggs
How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.
Or, alternatively:
The origins of All for One and One for All.
Previous Chapter
First Chapter
           Tomura held the smooth, plastic pill organizer, running his finger along the compartment’s hinges. He opened the small, light purple lids with a satisfying click. The morning after he’d forgotten to take his medications on his first night at the orphanage, he had woken up to his brother launching the pill organizer at his head at top speed and with deadly precision. He’d decided not to ask where or how his brother was able to find one. Hisashi seemed to have decided not to tell him. It was a staple of their relationship, him not asking and his not telling. Something left over from their parents, Tomura guessed, all too used to Hisashi pulling cash from seemingly thin air whenever household funds ran thin. At the thought of his parents, Tomura felt the ever present, heavy weight of grief grow more unbearable. He swallowed, over a week later and he still couldn’t believe they were gone.
         He laid out his pill bottles methodically, and set about the task of loading each compartment with his afternoon doses.
         Sunday. He and his brother had spent last weekend sleeping in the damp holding cells of the police station until the department could figure out what to do with them. The thin sheet they’d each been given did little to fight off the biting cold, most of those nights were spent crying, or staring numbly at the ceiling’s spiderweb cracks. The officers were kind, but it was clear they wanted to be rid of him and his brother. Hisashi had been angry. It was a strange relief, seeing another so upset at his parents’ meeting their ends. The way the people around them reacted, it seemed like the ones who mattered most to them had never even existed. The world just carried on, uncaring.
         Monday. They’d arrived at the orphanage. That day was a blur, he just remembered not liking the Matron and feeling apprehensive about the place that was clearly falling apart. He’s still sad he missed out on Monopoly.
         Tuesday. His first day of class. He was given a nightmarishly thick classwork packet so he could catch up on classwork, nearly a week had passed and he was still whittling it down slowly between assigned chores. In class he had spitballs launched at him whenever the teacher had his back turned. At recess, no one seemed to want to play with him, giving him a sneer or a disgusted grimace whenever he approached. Instead of playing, he settled for sitting under a large oak tree, working on the drills and exercises in his homework packet. Tomura wasn’t surprised that his peers didn’t like him, no one wants a cripple to drag them down. It still stung though.
         Wednesday. Hisashi and Leo must have noticed his dismal mood (despite his constant dodging of their questions) and pulled him aside after dinner to start their still ongoing game of Monopoly. The game was lasting for a ridiculously long time, and was getting stowed with all it’s pieces on a shelf in between sessions, strategically hidden under old textbooks to hide them from the other kids. Despite being glued to some clunky old phone the entire game, Hisashi was still winning by a landslide. This frustrated Tomura to no end, something that his brother’s friends found amusing.
         Thursday. Tomura took up a small delivery job for the Matron in exchange for a little bit of spending money. Christmas was coming soon, and he was determined to buy his brother a gift, even if it was just something small.The task landed him in a shadier part of town, which was a particularly impressive feat in the eastern side of LA. He found himself in an old impound lot, filled to the brim with ancient rusting cars and dead shrubs. A squat shack sat in the center of the lot, looking abandoned and haunted, especially next to an imposing storage shed. When he knocked on the door, in the back of his mind he worried the peeling paint and chipping wood would imbed itself in his hand. Luckily, that didn’t happen. The door opened to reveal a scowling, gaunt looking man with sallow skin that looked crumpled like tissue paper. 
         The man spoke and Tomura couldn’t help but reel back at his terrible breath and rotting teeth, “You one ‘a Abra’s?” he asked.
         Tomura nodded and quickly handed over the package he’d been given for this job. The man looked at it for a second, then at Tomura with a dissecting gaze. He shifted uncomfortably under his stare before he heard a grunt and had the door slammed in his face. Tomura blinked with surprise before promptly booking it out of there.
         When he returned to the orphanage, the Matron gave him a few crumpled bills and a lecture for his trouble. Apparently she expected him to make nigh instantaneous deliveries. On foot. Going across town. He had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting and instead chose to vent to his older brother, who’s been looking increasingly exhausted, later that night.
         Friday. Apparently he wasn’t the only person disliked by his peers, because as he was attacking the homework packet with vigour during recess he noticed three other kids, visibly metahumans, playing with marbles on the sidewalk. One kid looked like a lizard, another had hands that looked like they were coated in a metal alloy, and the last one’s skin seemed to shift colors with his mood. They were in the middle of their game when the kids who’d been launching spitballs and jeers at him throughout the week kicked over their marbles and a fight began to break out. Tomura was on his feet racing towards the group before he had time to think. Desperately, he tried to defend them, only to wind up in the matron’s office, given trash and gum duty for the next several weeks, as well as a particularly nasty black eye. 
         Later that night, he was woken up by the sounds of the matron arguing loudly on the phone in the common room. Something about payments, shipments, and inspections. It seemed like boring adult stuff, but he didn’t miss the fear in her eyes or the glistening sheen of sweat on her makeup covered face. He was barely able to duck back into his room and return to bed in time before she walked in to make sure the kids were all asleep.
         Saturday. He and Hisashi started the day in the back of a filthy taxi, and then in the waiting room of a hospital as the staff got their mom’s room ready. Her withering, pale body hooked up to countless machines is an image that will be burned into his eyes forever, he thinks. The nurse told them that it was a miracle that she survived, but the damage sustained to her brain by the gunshot has rendered her effectively a vegetable. The visit was spent with Tomura desperately clutching her bony hand, talking between sobs, and his brother rubbing circles into his back. For being in a hospital the room was so, so loud. The sounds of the respirator and beeping of the heart monitor created an all-penetrating blanket of noise that had Tomura waking up from a dead-sleep later that night, breathless and in a cold sweat. 
         Tomura closed the pill organizer, once again enjoying that satisfying click. All of his pain medications were at their maximum dose. He’d been feeling sicker lately, and knew that he wouldn’t have long until his body grew used to the dosing and he’d be rendered incapacitated again. At this thought, he felt a burr of anxiety in his chest. He shoved it down, worrying wouldn’t help anything. 
         Double-checking his pill organizer one last time, Tomura made sure that all of his things were in order (and well hidden) before he made his way to the mess hall. For all he disliked about the orphanage, he could still appreciate the colorful slats of light the stained glass windows cast on their eating area. The mess hall was as rowdy and packed as usual today, and Tomura found himself wincing at the noise. He made his way to the seat his brother had carved out for himself among his peers.
         The teen looked dead on his feet, dark bags under his eyes and surrounded by mysteriously obtained cups of coffee. It was an odd sight to see his normally well-manicured brother so dishevelled, Tomura was instantly worried.
          “Hey ‘mura,” his brother greeted, though it came out as a half mumble.
         “Are you okay?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from him.
         “Peachy,” Hisashi replied, brightening when he saw his friends enter the room.
         Tomura frowned at the obvious lie, “You’re clearly not fine, what’s wrong?”
         Hisashi shifted in his seat visibly uncomfortable, “We all process grief in different ways, I’d really prefer if you didn’t keep pushing, it’s been a long week.”
         Tomura nodded in understanding, feeling guilt twist at his stomach, “Sorry,” he grasped his brother’s hand across the table and looked him in the eyes, determined to reinforce his next words, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here, it doesn’t just have to be you who supports me, ya know?”
         His brother let out a low hum, and jerked his head towards a table across the room, “It looks like the mutant brats you foolishly put yourself in harm’s way for are over there, if you want to go hang out with them.”
         Tomura felt his eyes light up, despite his mild wince at the memory of the verbal reaming his brother gave him after that incident, and a smile stretched across his face. “Alright! I’ll catch you later, okay?” he finished that statement with a look that carried silent promise. We’ll continue this discussion later.
         Hisashi smiled sardonically, “Of course.”
                                                   -@~*^*~@-
         It had, in fact, been a long week. Hisashi smiled and bullshitted with the acquaintances he’d collected since landing in this barnacle of scum attached to an ever-sinking ship. He had spent the week, while confined to the orphanage, feeling for their mannerisms, expectations, and wants. It never hurt to cultivate future connections after all, even if they were rather irritating, and if their nightly Monopoly game served as a device to further these connections and goals as well as make his baby brother happy? All the better.
         He yawned, the caffeine he’d been given as a cashed-in favor could only do so much. There was an increasingly familiar buzz in his pocket. He carefully kept his facial expression from changing. As he spoke about baseball or something equally trivial, his thoughts turned to the thorn in his side.
         After making contact with Matt his first night at the orphanage, he was reached out to by an anonymous messenger. They asked him to perform a steep task. One that he wasn’t particularly willing to fulfill.
                                              Unknown Number
                                              Tuesday, 3:25am
[I need a favor.]
                                                                              [How did you get this number?]
[We have a..]
[Mutual associate.]
                                                                                                                     [I see.]
                                               Tuesday, 1:03pm
[So about the favor]
                                                                                                                      [Yes?]
[There's a pest that we need you to eliminate.]
                                            [I assume that’s not all you intend for me to go off of.]
[Of course not.]
                                                [I’d like to meet with you face to face before doing                                                                                                       anything drastic.]
                                                          [Security concerns you see, I’m not going to
                                                               such efforts for someone I’ve never met.]
                                             Wednesday, 11:00am
[Fine.]
[We’ve decided to meet with you.]
[Come to the old warehouse off West Beverly]
[You better be as good as we’ve been told you are.]
                                     [Of course, only the best quality of service for my clients.]
[Be there at 1am sharp, Sunday morning.]
                                                                                                        [See you then.]
                                               Saturday, 9:00am
[Just confirming that you aren’t pussying out
on us.]
                                                                                                       [Of course not.]
                                                                     [How am I to know this is not a trap?]
[Don’t be an idiot, why would we ambush you if we 
want something from you?]
         Based on the use of “we” in their correspondences, it seems like he was dealing with an organization of some sort. That, or some petulant brats whose daddy hit them too much. Either way, he’d always met with his clients face to face to sort out the specifics of his deals. Just because he’d grown rusty doesn’t mean he’d grown stupid. Despite their placations, he knew that he could very easily be walking into a trap. Especially, since the mafia was involved. It’s because of this that he (unfortunately) had to exchange texts with Matt.
                                                         Pest
                                              Thursday, 2:00pm
                                                                   [I’m meeting with a client on Saturday.]
[Oh? So you’re finally taking on deals again?]
[A gif of Mushu from Mulan, clutching a sword
and talking to a cricket saying, “My little baby,
off to destroy people.”]
                                                                                                            [Very funny.]
                                                [I don’t know how trustworthy they are, so if I don’t
                                          send you a text confirming my safety by Sunday night,
                                      assume the worst. If anything bad happens I need you to
                                                                                         take care of my brother.]
[And I’m doing this because…?]
                                        [If they do prove to be trustworthy, I can give you an in.]
                              [I know you’re always looking for new sources of information.]
[Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word. I’ll lend
you a hand.]
                                                                                               [I’ll hold you to that.]                                                                                                                          Seen
         Dealing with Matt more than necessary was an.. undesirable outcome. However, Hisashi wasn’t so foolish as to enter a meeting, completely blind, with no back-up plan. At least this way he could ensure Tomura would be safe, even if something happened to himself. He was just about to dig into his eggs when the matron stepped up to the front of the room. As he continued to engage in pointless chatter, he watched her from the corner of his eye. This couldn’t be good.
         “Ahem-hem,” the insufferable woman began. Her pointless throat clearing was drowned out in the noise that flooded the mess hall. He watched her pull her angular features into an often adorned scowl. She looked at those under her care as if they’d just taken a leak in her cereal. 
         “Excuse me,” she tried, once again ignored. Looking frustrated, she grabbed a nearby glass and spoon from a table and clinked them together loudly, finally forcing the room into silence, “First of all, I will not tolerate such insolence from those I house, feed and clothe. If it takes me this long to get everyone’s attention again, the consequences will be severe, understood?”
         “Yes Matron Abra,” the children droned, sounding as if they were trying out for a funeral march ensemble.
         “Good. Secondly, it has come to my attention that some of you have been making late night excursions,” she continued. Hisashi worked to keep his face schooled into a calm facade. He’d been going out each night to perform small jobs for Matt. Each time he went out, he was always careful. There had to be someone else slipping out as well, but who? The mess hall erupted into murmurs as his peers asked similar (and several more) questions. Matron Abra waited a few beats for the chatter to die down, then said, “As a result, the staff and I will be patrolling the hallways and making increased checks to the sleeping quarters. Within the week, we will be hiring on a security detail to ensure that everyone is ah,” her face split into a viscous grin, “safe and sound in their beds.”
         Hisashi felt his brows knit together, how the hell could they afford a security detail when this place was falling apart? Then, it dawned on him as to how much of a hindrance these new measures would be, sneaking out was already a pain on it’s own, but with guards and frequent visits to the sleeping quarters? He’d have to start pulling out tricks he hasn’t used since he was in middle school. Well, fuck.
A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter, since I didn't want Tomura to drop off the face of the Earth narrative-wise while Hisashi wakes up each day and chooses violence. As per usual, feel free to leave a comment, feedback helps me improve my writing! I don't have much else to say in this week's A/N, school has made me really tired and I want to take a forty-year long nap.
Edit: I think the formatting gods are smacking me with a stick today. First I was having issues with AO3 then tumblr decided my last paragraph needed to be at the top of the post.
AO3
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verai-marcel · 4 years
Text
What Is Real (RDR2 Fanfic, Corrections AU, Javier x Fem!Reader, Part 1 of 2, 18+)
Summary: You’re a barista at the Strada Cafe, and you’ve noticed that a couple of men who seem somewhat familiar have been visiting lately, with two of your regulars. You have a hard time believing that it’s Arthur & Charles, two of the bouncers from the BDSM club you used to attend when you lived in the big city. Then one of their friends shows up, and now you’re 100% sure it’s them, because you couldn’t forget those warm brown eyes and charming demeanor if your life depended on it.
Author’s Notes: My first true Javier x Reader fic. @eddescuella, @mrsescuella, @javiescuellx, I dedicate this to you.
Tags: Javier x Reader, smut, D/s, plot, romance, drama, dirty talk, name-calling, spanking
AO3 Link is here, baby.
--------------------
Chapter 1: We Meet Again
Word Count: 2788
"Good morning!" you said cheerfully as the front door opened, the bells jingling daintily.
Two men greeted you with a polite smile and a nod before sitting at a corner table. They must be waiting for someone, you thought, as they did not stop to purchase something from the counter. 
You had seen the two men more often recently, but not together; in fact, you had seen them paired with two of your regulars, the veterinarian and the prison guard. Part of you felt strange, seeing them here in this city after so long. They didn’t recognize you, which was a relief. Then again, you wouldn’t blame anyone for not recognizing you if they saw you outside of that club.
Two years ago, when you moved to this city to start over, you swore off your other life. You had been a grocery clerk by day, and at night you would go down to the Free & Brave, dressed to the nines in your best latex dress, and play your heart out.
But you had gotten too close to a certain club employee; he was just doing his job and you were addicted to his services, coming back to the club again and again, just for him. In hindsight, it was cringey, the way you always looked for him, the way just one smile from him would light up your whole night. His suave mannerisms, his voice, and his guitar playing were only part of the whole package. You sincerely cared about him as a whole person, but you were starting to feel foolish, knowing that he didn’t feel the same way.
So when you got fired from your job, you decided it was time to leave the big city and head east, away from the complicated feelings, away from your addiction, away from everything. On one hand, you wanted desperately to see him again, and on the other, you wanted to just forget about what you had been.
Every date, every lover, every one night stand you’d had since then? No one could compare. You were never satisfied.
The door jingled open again.
“Good morning!” you said before turning to the door. You paused for a split second, your heart leaping into your throat. Forcing it back down, you continued. “Welcome to Strada Cafe!”
“Hi,” the man that haunted your memories said with a polite smile. He looked around and spotted the other two men and waved at them. “I’ll come back to order something,” he said to you before he joined his friends.
Your heart was hammering. Did your eyes deceive you?
Was that… Javier?
***
“Hello gentlemen,” Javier said as he walked towards the two men who looked back at him with neutral expressions. He had emailed them, asking to meet up. When they agreed to meet him in a cafe, he was both relieved and anxious; after all, he was the one who had pushed them away when they had told him the truth about the Free & Brave’s secret operations. So he understood why they weren’t exactly welcoming him back with open arms.
“Javier,” Arthur said, nodding at him. “Been a long time.”
“A couple of years at least,” he replied. “A lot has happened.”
Charles stayed quiet, watching Javier sit down.
“Listen, about… the club.” Javier took a breath and blew it out slowly, a contrite look on his face. “You were right. You were both right. I should’ve left. I just… I didn’t want to see the truth.”
“At least you see it now, right?” Arthur asked. When Javier nodded, he continued. “So where’ve you been?”
“The feds detained all of us, told us to not leave town while they did the investigation. I had to get a job somewhere, so I worked at a restaurant for a while. The feds kept bringing me in for questioning. It was a mess. Different agents would ask me the same question, over and over. But I didn’t have anything to tell them. When they finally told me I was free to go, I started looking for a quiet place to live. Moved out here a couple of days ago. John told me you two lived out here.”
“You still talk to John?” Charles asked.
“We email sometimes. Not much talking, really,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh,” was all Charles could say. He suspected there was more to this than just Javier’s response, but he didn’t have any desire to pry.
“So how’ve you two been doing?” Javier asked, changing subjects.
Charles and Arthur both shrugged. “Doin’ fine, I s’ppose,” Arthur replied. “Just workin’ almost every day, gettin’ by.”
Javier nodded. “Sounds… nice.” He sighed. “I’ll just cut to the chase. I need to find a new job.”
“You tried the internet?” Charles asked, a bit sarcastically.
Javier ignored the jab at his intelligence, though it grated a little at his pride. “I did, but I was hoping one of you had a lead.”
Arthur shook his head. “We don’t. Our boss isn’t hiring at the moment.”
Charles glanced at Arthur before responding. “We’ll let you know if she needs another person.”
Javier bowed his head. “Thank you." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I know things didn’t end well back there, but I want to start over. You two were the most level-headed guys at that place.” 
He held out his hand. "I’m sorry for what I said. Forgive me.”
Charles took his hand and shook it firmly. “It’s alright. Water under the bridge.”
When Javier turned to Arthur and offered his hand, Arthur glanced at Charles, who nodded imperceptibly. Taking his hand, he shook it once before letting go. “I haven’t forgotten, Javier.”
Wrinkling his brow at Arthur’s response, Javier nodded. “I understand. Let me buy you a drink, then you can go about your day.”
***
You couldn’t overhear the three of them talking clearly, but you knew that there was something going on, when Javier shook both of their hands, and then got up and walked towards the counter. You fumbled your pencil as you tried to set it down before going back to the register.
“Wh-what can I get for you?” you asked, attempting to hide your nerves.
“Two coffees, black, and a honey lavender latte.”
You blinked. “Alright, anything to eat?”
“No, but thank you.”
You rang him up and turned the tablet to him so he could pay. When he finished and you turned the tablet back to you to complete the order, you noticed he was looking at you in a curious way.
“I think I know you,” he said.
You swallowed. “Um, maybe?” Your voice cracked as you finally looked up at him and met his kind gaze.
Suddenly he smiled. “Don’t lie, querida. I thought I recognized you.”
Querida. His pet name for you at the club. He remembered. And you panicked.
“I, um, well, yes,” you stammered.
“I won’t bother you while you’re working. Can I come see you after your shift?”
“Yes!” you said with far too much enthusiasm. “Come back at 3pm,” you said more quietly. You passed him two cups of black coffee. 
“I’ll be here,” Javier said, winking at you as he went back to his table.
Your heart beating wildly in your chest, you quickly went to make the latte. You knew it was for Javier; after all, his room at the club always had a light lavender scent.
***
After accepting the coffee from Javier, Arthur and Charles made their excuses and left, saying they had other errands they needed to do, leaving Javier to wait for his latte alone. He sat at the table, staring outside and contemplating his future; he had left the big city to start over. It still hurt to think about the past and the choices he made, the sides he took when he should’ve thought about it more carefully.
But he had cared so much about the club. He had cared about Dutch, the man who brought him in, encouraged his talents, encouraged him to be free. He taught him to treat others with respect, to be open to new things, to be a better person altogether.
And instead, he turned out to be the head of an underground crime syndicate, with alleged ties to assassinations and blackmail.
It hurt to have his belief in someone turn out to be so misplaced.
At least he could take comfort in the fact that most of the crew were just as in the dark about the club’s ties to the underground as he was. When he reached out to the others who had left, only Lenny had responded. Without him, Javier would never have gotten in contact with John, to whom he apologized, but got the feeling that he was still angry at him for what he had said before.
He was surprised that John told him where Arthur and Charles were, after he had asked. Maybe it was because he had written that he wanted to apologize to them.
Charles was a forgiving man. Arthur… Arthur still carried a grudge. That much he could tell.
Javier knew things would never be the same. But at least he could start over in this city with the knowledge that he had a chance at reclaiming some of the connections he once had. It gave him hope.
***
“You forgave him so easily.”
“It’s been a couple years, Arthur.”
“Do you even remember what he said to us?”
“I know. But he was intensely loyal to Dutch. When your faith in someone is upended like that…. Some people don’t handle it well.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re a better man than me.”
As they walked to their cars, Charles clapped Arthur on the back. “You’re a good man too, Arthur.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
Charles smiled. “Just ask your lady.”
Arthur sighed. He knew what she would say. “Alright, alright.” He pointed at his beat up truck. “I’m goin’ to see her.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
Arthur raised two fingers and waved goodbye as he got into his truck and took off.
***
“Here’s your latte.”
Javier looked up at the barista and smiled. Another connection that he had thought disappeared forever now stood before him. He felt like the world had given him a second chance; he wasn’t going to screw it up.
***
Javier’s dazzling smile blinded you to everything else, and for a moment all you could do was smile back like a fool.
“Where’d your friends go?” you asked.
“They had things to do,” he said, looking out the window again, looking a little forlorn. 
You immediately sat down, despite knowing that you had to get back to the counter right away. Touching his arm, you gave him a sympathetic look. “You can stay here as long as you need,” you said kindly.
“Thank you,” he said as he turned to meet your eyes. “I’m happy to see you again.”
You felt warm all of a sudden. “Me too,” you said. Patting his arm, you got up and went back to your counter, but you were definitely distracted by the man in the corner.
Eventually, he got up and left, winking at you before he left. “See you at 3,” he mouthed to you while you were ringing up another customer.
You were so distracted that you had to reset the transaction, much to the chagrin of your boss.
***
When 3 o’clock rolled around, you signed out of the Clover station, swapped places with your coworker, and bounded to the back room. As you were clocking out and pulling your stuff out of your locker, your boss came up to you.
“Hey, can we talk?”
Oh god, you thought. “Sure,” you said with some trepidation.
“You made a couple of mistakes today at the register. You caught them before you finalized the transaction, but still.”
You nodded. “I know, I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“Alright. Also, don’t flirt with the customers.”
You felt your face heat with embarrassment. “I wasn’t flirting, he’s an old acquaintance,” you replied, tamping down your irritation as best as you could.
“Uh huh. Well, you have a good rest of your day.”
As she walked away, you breathed a sigh of relief and quickly left out the back door. Walking around to the front, you saw Javier, waiting for you.
He had on a pair of brown chukka boots, dark blue jeans, and a black athletic cut T-shirt, tight on his lean muscled body. You could see the bottom of his eagle tattoo that you knew adorned his left pectoral and curved around his shoulder, the tattoo that he had gleefully shown you on a rainy night after a session, telling you how happy he was that he could finally afford to get it.
***
“Isn’t it sore?” you had asked, gesturing at his tattoo.
“A little, but I can handle it. Just to see you, I would brave a thousand needles.”
When he had told you that, your heart had fluttered and a part of you had wished it was all real, a real relationship, not a series of sessions at a fetish club, where you pretended to be someone else.
***
The two of you walked downtown, heading for a small burger place to grab food. You were hungry, and he offered to accompany you, though he had eaten not too long ago. 
You met his eyes, feeling shy all of a sudden. It was strange and yet oddly comforting to see him outside like this. You had never seen him like this before, and yet it felt natural, felt… real.
"So what brings you to town?" you asked, curious.
"I moved here."
You stared at him for a moment. "Really?" 
"Yeah." He was silent for a few moments before he continued. "Wanted a new start. So now I'm looking for a new job."
"We need a new barista," you blurted out before you could think better of it. 
He looked at you for a couple of seconds before he spoke. "Maybe I shouldn't. After all, it isn't good to date a coworker."
You stopped walking as you looked at him in shock. He laughed at your expression, turning around to face you. "Does that surprise you, querida?" 
"Yeah, it does," you said. "I mean, we, back then, I…"
He stepped closer to you and took your hands in his. "Let's start over. We can be real." Caressing your cheek, he leaned in. "What do you say?" 
He was so close. How many times in the past had he been this close? And yet this time was different from all the rest. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes, reveling in the feel of his warm hand on your face. 
"Yes," you finally answered.
***
As you munched on a burger, Javier slowly sipped on a coke. He had asked what you’d been up to the past two years. You just gave him the rundown of how your life was pretty humdrum these days, since you moved here. You weren’t about to tell him everything, about how your addiction to your other life caused you to get fired from your previous job. 
You did tell him about how you spent your spare time writing, trying to put together ideas for a book, but you never got very far, always coming up with new ideas, never settling on one plot.
After a few minutes of silence as Javier absorbed everything you said, he finally spoke.
"The club closed a couple of years ago, pretty soon after you disappeared."
You were shocked. "Why?" you asked. 
He shrugged. “Finances got bad,” he said. “Everyone got laid off. I tried to stay in the city, but it’s hard to make a living there. So I came out here to have a quieter life for a while.” 
You nodded sympathetically.
“How about you?” he asked. “Why did you leave?”
“Same as you, wanted to live somewhere not crazy.” 
Javier laughed. "And yet life is crazy, bringing us back together." He looked over at you, his face turning serious. "Are you getting what you need?" he said in a low voice. 
You nearly choked on your burger, swallowed, took a sip of your soda, and looked up at him. His sympathetic gaze did things to your heart, things that you were not prepared for. 
"No," you finally answered. "I missed you."
Javier's fingers caressed your cheek. "I missed you too, querida."
You reached up and held his hand, taking it away from your face. "Let's try being… normal. Maybe we go on a date first?"
He chuckled. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
You nodded. Normalcy, that’s what you wanted right now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 2 is here.
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coffeefairy · 4 years
Text
Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 2
Second day running of the challenge, go me!
Day 2, Quarantine
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
Ship: Sheith
Rating: Teen and up
Summary: Keith is stuck in the infirmary with the flu. Shiro visits to hear why Keith landed himself in detention - again - especially since he knows it somehow involved his name...
Excerpt: Keith had never liked Adam. He was too by-the-book, too boring, too uptight, but right now he’d pay to have him back in Shiro’s life. He made Shiro happy and that was all Keith had ever really wanted. And, he provided a buffer, a “no trespassing” sign on Shiro that helped with tempering his wish to reach out, to confess to everything that boiled under his breastbone. Now that buffer was gone and he’d have to watch Shiro, kindly, obliviously, reject him just for who he was, not for who he already had
Tags: Hurt/comfort, one-sided pre-Sheith from Keith’s side. Note Keith is underage but that Nothing Happens - because he’s underage.
Quarantine
Keith was entering his third day of having the flu and he was ready for death to take him. Not because of the flu, but because of the boredom. Confined to the Infirmary at the Garrison to not “spread those germs around, Mr Kogane”, he was utterly bored. There was a TV but it had two channels and they both showed re-runs. He couldn’t read because he kept distracting himself sniffling and his foggy brain wouldn’t let him study. The only thing that broke the tedium was mealtimes and the food was so bad he might starve before the boredom killed him. At least his quarantine counted towards his detention time.
The door at the end of the room swung open and Keith spotted Shiro. Or, Captain Shirogane as he was whenever other teachers or students were around. Shiro had been the one who got Keith to apply to the Garrison, who encouraged him to try out for the pilot program. The one who’d helped him fill in the scholarship applications and who had to date been the only person in Keith’s life who had never once let him down.
He was older than Keith by five years and at twenty-two he was the poster boy for what the Garrison wanted to showcase. Ace pilot, squeaky clean record, top grades. In addition he had the looks, the personality and the charisma for a stellar career in the Garrison Forces. If Keith hadn’t loved Shiro from the bottom of his heart, he probably would have hated him. But he knew Shiro cared for nothing but the flying, not really. It was the love of his life and Keith could wholeheartedly understand. Flying, to both of them, was freedom. 
Glad that he for once had a good excuse for the rosy cheeks he developed whenever Shiro was around, he allowed himself to soak in the picture he made. He’d finished for the day but his uniform was as pristine as it always was. He filled it out like he’d been made to wear it, all wide shoulders and narrow hips. It was a chest to waist ratio that sometimes made Keith’s stomach drop and leave a dark, echoing, slippery hollowness of need inside him. Just like his height, the sight of his hands and the soft hair at the nape of his neck did. 
“Hey, Keith.”
Not to mention his voice. 
Keith, who had had enough spare time - and then some - to prepare in case anyone (he’d only hoped Shiro would) visited, held up the legal pad he’d been doodling on. On the page he’d written in capitals:
Lost voice, can’t speak.
“Oh, so the conversation will be just as normal then,” Shiro joked. 
Keith sent him a rude gesture and the older man laughed. It made something soft and squidgy move in his chest to hear it. 
With a sigh, he sat down on the uncomfortable chair next to Keith’s bed, peered at him.
“You look good.” 
Keith knew what that meant but he bent his head over the pad anyway to let his hair shield his warm face. 
“You looked a lot paler last time I saw you.”
Keith frowned in askance. 
“I was here two days ago. You were asleep.”
Oh great. He’d probably slept with his mouth open, drooling on the pillow.
“You look younger when you’re asleep. Less angry.”
I’m not angry, Keith scribbled. 
Obediently, Shiro read it. 
“No?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why did I hear about you getting into a fight with McClaine in Flight Sims?”
Keith had hoped talk of that particular scene would not make it to Shiro’s ears. 
McClaine’s an idiot, he wrote. Shiro leaned forward to read it and though he didn’t have his sense of smell, Keith could swear he sensed the scent of laundry powder, after shave and the hint of motor oil and gasoline that came from riding his hoverbike. A smell so familiar to him it haunted his dreams. Including the waking ones.
He could swear he saw a twitch to Shiro’s (unfairly attractive) lips before he leaned back.
“Keith, he’s on your team. You need to find a way to get along. Teamwork is the cornerstone of the Garrison philosophy.”
The Garrison philosphy could fuck itself for all Keith cared, but he didn’t like when Shiro’s voice took on that tone. Not like he was disappointed, or tired of his behaviour but...softly chiding. All Keith wanted was to hear Shiro say good things about him, praise him. Not that he’d ever let the older man know that. 
“Fine,” Shiro sighed lightly when Keith didn’t reply. “What did McClaine do?”
Keith stiffened. There was no way he was telling Shiro. Crossing his arms, he rested back against the pillows.
“I spoke to Captain Parilla about it. He says he heard my name.”
Oh, shit. 
Keith had no issue telling Shiro that McClaine was a bumbling moron who should learn to keep his tongue behind his teeth if he wanted to keep them in that dumb face of his. But he didn’t want to tell him why he’d had to punch him for it this time.
It was common knowledge at the school that Captain Shirogane and his boyfriend were breaking up. In such a small place, gossip was rife and unfortunately this week the hot topic had been the end of the match of two of the teachers. 
Keith had overheard some girl talking about it in the cafeteria, asking her friend excitedly “if she’d heard” and an almost breathless “heard what” had followed. 
“I heard from Maggie whose sister has the late watch that Captain Tremaine and Shiro had a shouting match that ended with them breaking up and Captain Tremaine driving away at like one in the morning. He hasn’t come back yet.”
Keith had stilled but hearing it, he put his tray down and spun on his heel. Unseeingly he turned right and headed down the hallway towards the officers’ quarters. Captain Tremaine, or Adam as Shiro called him, had left Shiro? He knew from Shiro, despite him glossing over the details, that they had been fighting but breaking up? Knowing how seriously his friend took commitment he could only guess how he was feeling now.
He’d gotten as far as Shiro’s door, lifted his hand to knock. Imagined what he might find inside. He hesitated. Why would Shiro want to see him now? What comfort could Keith offer? He was prickly, contrary, awkward. He had to be the last person who could be of any help right now. 
Comfort Shiro? Don’t kid yourself, Kogane, you’re his charity project. 
With this thought ringing in his head he had walked away. He got to his room and crawled into bed, flinging an arm over his eyes. Shiro was the one going through a breakup, why the hell did he himself have tears in his eyes? Despite the question he knew. He knew that everything inside him for Shiro was a tangled mess.
He might have had dark dreams about Shiro leaving Adam but it had never made him sad. He had just realized he could have Keith and he and the other instructor had parted, amicably. 
He was such a child. 
Shiro would always take a breakup seriously, would think he was the one to fail. The kind of person who would try and keep trying to make the other happy. He would always try his best and when it wasn’t enough it would break his heart. 
Keith rolled over on his side, drawing his knees to his chest. It was aching with what he knew would be killing Shiro. 
It was weaved in with the misery that to Shiro, Keith would never be anything more than a kid. They were friends, but with the years between them it would be a long time before they could even be friends on equal footing. Shiro was his teacher, even if they waited a decade, he would still have been Keith’s teacher. And even if they did, if they waited, if Shiro would eventually see him as an adult or an equal, why would he ever want Keith? He was a skinny, awkward reject with a bad haircut and a worse attitude and Shiro deserved… everything. Better than Keith Kogane could ever be. 
And still his traitorous heart wouldn’t just take the defeat and leave him in peace. It had to light up in hope every time Shiro smiled at him in the way that made the corners of his eyes crease, or when he put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, or when he told him he’d done a good job in that deep voice. It sang, lifted, soared and hoped. 
Keith had never liked Adam. He was too by-the-book, too boring, too uptight, but right now he’d pay to have him back in Shiro’s life. He made Shiro happy and that was all Keith had ever really wanted. And, he provided a buffer, a “no trespassing” sign on Shiro that helped with tempering his wish to reach out, to confess to everything that boiled under his breastbone. Now that buffer was gone and he’d have to watch Shiro, kindly, obliviously, reject him just for who he was, not for who he already had.
Still struggling with the decision if he should go see Shiro or not the day after, he’d been flying in Flight Sims on autopilot when McClaine had to open his big mouth.
“You hear Shiro’s boyfriend broke up with him? And no one’s seen Shiro for days.”
“That’s Captain Shirogane to you,” Keith said quietly.
“Whatever, Kogane. I wonder if Shirogane’s out for the count? He looks all badass but he must be a giant softie if he can’t leave his room for three days after some guy leaves.”
“Lance…” Hunk, the large engineer on their team said, clearly trying to defuse the situation. 
“What Hunk? I’m just saying he might talk tough but really, he’s just a big p-”
Keith flew up, the screen in front of him showing the stars spiralling and an explosion “MISSION FAILURE” flashing in red letters. But he didn’t care. In one move he was up, grabbing McClaine by the collar, hauling him to his feet and pinning him to the wall. 
“Shut the fuck up, McClaine! Just because you blame Captain Shirogane for not making you pilot when your scores are way too low doesn’t mean you can talk shit about him behind his back!”
“Get off me, Kogane, I can say whatever I like!”
“Guys…” Hunk tried to pull them apart but Keith just shook it off. 
“What, you gonna comfort him, Kogane? Hold his hand, dry his tears, tell him everything will get better?”
Keith growled.
Lance’s eyes widened and something gleeful slipped into his gaze.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You wanna bang Shirogane?”
His fist connected with the boy’s goading smile and in a flurry of limbs they fell to the floor, Keith kicking, punching, tearing at the other boy. 
Shiro spoke again, returning him to the present. 
“Why were you fighting, Keith?”
Keith scribbled.
McClaine was being a dick.
Shiro’s eyes gentled in a way that made Keith feel small. 
“Cadet McClaine insulted me, is that it?”
Apparently Keith’s refusal to answer spoke volumes. 
“Keith, I…” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you would stand up for me, whatever McClaine said, but you need to find a way of controlling your temper. Punching someone you don’t agree with is going to cost you something more than detention one day. And I would hate to see that. You have too much talent, Keith, too much going for you.”
Keith hadn’t had a lot of people praising him in his life. He had no idea how to deal with it and he twisted the covers in his hands.
With a sigh, he then reached for the pen.
I’ll stop fighting him...if he stops being a dick.
Shiro chuckled, tenderness creasing the corners of his eyes. 
Damn. Keith couldn’t deal with that look, it made him want to both curl up and bask, and hide under the covers like a child. It made his heart race and his throat slam shut.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Shiro tilted his head. “Lance goads you because he’s jealous.”
It was clear he didn’t need a pad to convey his disbelief in the notion.
“Keith, Lance has wanted to come to the Garrison since he was five. He’s dreamed of being an ace pilot, of being at the top of his class. He’s worked really hard for it. Then he meets you and...you know all these things instinctively that he has had to learn. You fly like you were born to do it, you’re crushing every flying record we have and you do it without looking like you’re even trying.”
For you, Keith wanted to tell Shiro and was glad his voice wouldn’t let the incriminating words slip out. He only ever cared about impressing Shiro, about making him proud, of...proving himself. Proving Shiro hadn’t been wrong to put his trust in him. 
“You just have everything that Lance wants.”
Keith crossed his arms over his chest, stared hard at the floor on the other side of the bed, away from Shiro and his gentle voice.
“So just think about that before you punch him the next time.”
At this, Keith couldn’t help the twitch of a smile. Shiro did know him really well. He didn’t decree, or order, or use the authority he clearly had over Keith. He just explained, and asked that Keith thought about it. 
To distract himself from the growing tenderness in his throat, Keith lifted his pen. Hesitated. Glanced at Shiro.
“Go on, ask what you want to ask.”
Keith wondered how to phrase it. Then he decided and wrote,
How’s Adam?
Shiro read, a flash of something broken in his eyes.
“You heard, huh?”
Keith nodded. Then waited. He knew Shiro understood what he was really asking. If he’d asked “how are you?” Shiro would have responded “fine” because that’s what he demanded of himself to always be for others. Asking about Adam made it more roundabout, gave Shiro an out if he didn’t want to talk about it but also let him know Keith knew about the breakup. 
A sigh escaped the older man. He rubbed his hands over his face and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Keith kicked himself for getting distracted by how the column of his throat looked, bared and inviting. 
“I...I don’t think he’s doing so well.”
Keith nodded, kept fiddling with the covers. 
“It’s hard,” Shiro continued and Keith couldn’t believe he was trusted to hear this. He swore to himself whatever Shiro told him, he’d take to his grave. “He’s not...wrong, or not completely wrong but I…”
Searching his memory he tried to make sense of this as an argument he could have heard about. He couldn’t think of anything. Apparently Shiro realized too, and backtracked.
“There’s a new mission. I can’t talk about it, really, but it’s deep space, Keith. Real flying, for months.”
Fear for missing Shiro like he would miss a limb twisted the joy he felt for him. Decisively he strangled the sensation. It was Shiro’s dream. 
“And it’s...it’s my last chance. With my health, this will be the last opportunity for me to ever go into space.”
He knew that too. Knew the unfairness of Shiro’s life, the one part of his physical form that wasn’t perfect. The disease that lay dormant under his skin, that would one day rob him of all the things that made him a legendary pilot. 
“Adam...Adam thinks I’m foolish. That I should stay back, not take any chances. Settle for a shorter mission, something easier.”
Every line of Shiro’s face and shoulders screamed out his pain. Keith reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. The older man’s head dropped. His shoulder shook under his fingers and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Shiro, hold him, tell him he deserved better, deserved everything. 
One handed, he managed to write.
Shiro, hearing the pen against the paper, looked up. He hadn’t been crying but his eyes were glassy.
You need to go
It’s your dream
A shudder travelled through him. Gratitude seeped into his eyes and Keith’s throat started squeezing shut.
“Thanks, Keith.”
He took his hand and squeezed.
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corpse--diem · 4 years
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Bad Beat | Felix & Erin
Summary: “In poker, bad beat is a subjective term for a hand in which a player with what appear to be strong cards nevertheless loses.” Date: Present Featuring: @streetharmacist
Felix Doyle liked to stay in touch with people. He was a talker. Liked to know how people were doing, what they were up to, when they were going to pay him back. Whether it would be sooner rather than later. If they even could or not, which was always a particularly fun discussion. Lately, however, someone he had been in constant conversation with had upped and apparently died on him. Doing a thing like that often left a debt unsettled and when it came to Jack Nichols, it left a particularly large debt behind.
A large enough debt that it warranted a house call.
He didn’t make a habit of visiting funeral homes. Not unless he wanted to be warmed by that confirmation that, most certainly, an old enemy was dead. He approached the Nichols’ funeral home with a very different mindset. Just wanted to talk, that was all. He adjusted his violet tie before he slipped through the dark and found a window obscured entirely in the dark. It occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly checked the business hours. Then again, death hardly ever did that either, which he thought over as he slipped open a window at the back of the house with a straight-edged knife.
He stayed in the dark as he shut it behind him, more shadow than anything human shaped as he looked over the main room. Didn’t seem there was anyone near. Time as it existed stopped for the fae as soon as the sun stopped showing its face. He took a moment to knock on the inside of the door before he took a seat in the reception area. In the dark, he adjusted his glasses and waited.
For the first time in nearly a month, things were running normally. Smoothly, she’d even dare to say. Almost as if things hadn’t come to a grinding halt for far longer than she’d have liked, and for reasons she liked even less. But that was over. Thank fuck, that was over, and Erin could finally pour those frustrations out in the constant stream of death that ran through this town more consistently than the rivers that found Dark Score Lake.
A full day’s work was coming to an end. The rest of the staff had gone home for the night, and she was getting ready to close the books when she heard the knocking from her office. Loud knocking. Echoing like it was coming from inside–which was impossible, right? She’d locked the doors hours ago. Fucking awesome. Erin truly loved when people just showed up mysteriously in her home. Pulling out the knife Nic had left behind from her drawer, suddenly very grateful for his forgetfulness, she stashed it in the side pocket of her blazer, easing her way out into the reception area. 
“Hello?” She called out, stopping to a halt when her eyes landed on the man in sunglasses. Fuck. Was this a bossman thing? “Can I help you?” She inquired carefully, trying to stay friendly should this be an actual customer in need of her services.
Funny how the funeral home didn’t feel as sterile and emotionless as a hospital did. Guess something had to be warm after a body emptied itself. Other than the crematorium, of course. Felix tapped his fingers against his dark grey dress pants as he waited. It was a bit of an unorthodox house call to make, but considering the circumstances, it was the only type of call he wanted to make. Phone calls didn’t suffice for the important questions. Like where his money was.
He picked his head up as she entered the room and straightened himself up slightly. A businessman’s smile curved his mouth as he stood up. All business with no soft edges to be readily found.
“Hi,” he said, a smile around the words. He made no move to go towards her, instead pocketing his hands and putting his weight onto one foot as he crossed it behind him. “I’d say so, yeah. Erin Nichols, right? There’s this little problem I got, you could say. You see, there’s just a little something I’d like to get settled. Worked out, even! Its sorta outstayed its welcome and I wanted to check in. Keep a finger on the pulse and all.”
His head tilted slightly.
“It’s a matter of wanting to lay something to rest? You know how it is.”
Something was off about this guy. His smile was sharp and his answers circled slowly around her questions. It was already getting on her nerves. Whatever this guy wanted, everything in Erin’s bones told her this wasn’t an above board visit. Did her best to keep her smile friendly despite the confusion that touched her narrowed brows. “I do,” she nodded, making sure to remain a good few feet from him. “Better than most." Her eyes flickered past him to the door. The lock was still firmly in place and no visible signs of tampering from the advanced alarm system she’d spilled a considerable amount of money into installing. Seemed to mean fuck all these days, apparently. That knife was burned a warmer hole in her side pocket. 
"Well, I can’t tell you how sorry I am if you’re here about a recent loss,” she started, braving a few steps forward. “But it’s a little late and we’re closed to the public for the night.” Not entirely true but she gestured towards the door anyway. “How about you stop by tomorrow morning and we can talk then, Mr.–Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”
“I had a feeling you might,” Felix said. “See, I had a really good feeling that you would. That’s why I wanted to come here. It’s looking like I made the right call.” She seemed a little nervous, maybe even a little on edge. He supposed that was fair. A stranger for all intents and purposes had broken into her business. It was fair to be alarmed. As fair as it was to check on investments long overdue, or so he thought. There were some things where fairness didn’t play too large a role.
“It’s not so much a recent loss,” he said as he adjusted his cufflinks. “More the kind that’s been accumulating and it takes a real toll when it gets to a certain point. The point that has brought me here to you.” When he smiled, it was a small and quick flash. “Mr. Doyle will work just fine for this, Ms. Nichols, and unfortunately, mornings don’t work for me and I don’t think this can wait. It’s a matter of debt that I’d like to discuss.”
Erin did her best to follow this man--Mr. Doyle--as he spoke. The longer she listened, the more she appreciated the way he weaved his words like he was telling a story. Careful consideration given to every syllable and each word placed with intent. He clearly thought highly of himself for this show he was putting on.
It's a matter of debt.
Those words set off ever alarm bell in her mind into a shrieking mess of panic. Her back stiffened and her body stilled, hoping he couldn’t see the noise building behind her eyes. Panic quickly gave way to anger. God, did these assholes ever let up? She was a funeral director for Christ’s sake. It was very simple and here he was, no doubt asking for me. How and why this continued to get more complicated was completely beyond her but she could feel that pit in her stomach burning hot and bright. Her eyes didn’t match the smile she forced back onto her face, arms crossing across her stomach. Fingers hovering inches from the knife there. 
“And what debt is that, Mr. Doyle?” She spat out, tilting her head slightly to the side, trying not to let the irritation in her tone completely swallow her own words. “If you’re here on behalf of your associate, you do know Dale’s already popped his cheery little head in here, right?
The fae laced his hands together. Something Felix had said elicited a quick reaction. It seemed that he might have hit a nerve. The right one too, at that. Good. That meant that he and Erin were likely on the same page. Any smile he had faded back into the dark from whence he had come. His face was still water.
“A rather large one, Ms. Nichols,” he intoned with a lifted brow. His thumb moved idly along the skin of the back of his hand. His posture shifted languidly, both feet flat on the ground. “Guns and drugs are pricey, sure, but other things cost a little more. Like blood. And bones. In the end, it all costs. It adds up. It spills over. Things get owed.”
He adjusted his glasses.
“It’s the one you just so happened to have inherited,” he continued. “I offered your dad a hand when he got himself in too deep and oddly enough, even with that particular clock stopped, the numbers are still ticking up. May he rest in peace.”
He shifted. Cocked his head.
“Dale? Can’t say I’m all too familiar with a Dale.”
Oh, this guy had a lot of nerve. It occurred to Erin suddenly--was this him? The him? The man who hid in the shadows and whose name she hadn’t earned the privilege of obtaining. Always demanding more. One thing after the other, a slow escalation. First it was organs, then supernatural parts, andj ust last week Dale had shown up with a body. Pointed to the cremation room and a Don’t make me spell this out for you, dear. And Erin just had to hop to it. No questions asked. And while she’d seen glimpses of what the man was capable of, fear wasn’t the emotion scratching at her insides. It was anger. Expanding, needling and poking uncomfortably and uncontrollably under her skin.
“I’m aware of how businesses operate, Mr. Doyle. Even unconventional ones like yours,” she seethed. The debt. The fucking debt that was going to haunt her until the day she was in one of these fucking caskets. Her eyes watched his body language, waiting for some tell that’d let her know it was time to run.  “Dale,” she repeated, barely hiding her annoyance now. “The mouth breather you send traipsing through my house and business every week for collection.”
She watched him, waiting for that recognition to flicker across his features. It never came. Dread and uncertainty fighting for attention above her anger. “...Who are you?”
“So I’ve been assured. The place is lovely and it would be a shame for it to go under.”
His own voice lacked any of the prior pep he had at the beginning. It wasn’t the first business conversation he had and he was confident that it wouldn’t be the last. That confidence coalesced with mild annoyance. Something didn’t add up. Felix didn’t like that. Not. One. Bit. His hands unwound and slipped into his pockets, his head cocked. Mouth breather. Did he look like he was interested in putting mouth breathers on his payroll? Not dang likely. He bristled at the accusation. There were plenty of things he could be rightly and unquestionably accused of but this--
Wait.
“Collection? I have barely collected a dollar, let alone a cent, in weeks. That’s why I’m here. Because the money hasn’t been showing but it sure as hell has been spiriting itself away, Ms. Nichols. Isn’t that odd for a dead man?” He said, head tilted downward as his brows raised. Then he shook his head, his smile one with teeth before he spoke. His words didn’t match the smile as he seethed. “Who the fuck is Dale?”
It was better before you got your grubby hands on it, Erin thought, her sense of self-preservation reeling her in. If this was her boss, something she was quickly beginning to doubt, mouthing off to a man who likely magicked his way in could be the last thing she did. “It is. We’re a damn pillar of the community,” she answered dryly and left it at that.
There was a noticeable shift in Mr. Doyle’s mannerisms. Now he seemed agitated and his confusion was on par with her own. “Dale, uh--” she faltered for a moment, shaking her head. She didn’t even know his last name. “Bald guy, Hawaiian shirts. Wears those chunky gold necklaces you just wanna--” she gestured towards her neck and pulled on an invisible chain. She’d fantasized about that one more than once. Exasperation had her stepping closer, shaking her head. “No--I’ve been paying you, or whoever, on time, in full, every week,” she insisted, her eyes frantically watching. Still waiting for something to dawn on him. 
That’s when she paused, planting her feet again, realizing she’d stepped closer to this stranger than she suddenly felt comfortable with. “You didn’t answer my question,” she stood firm on this, shaking her head. She’d had enough. “My dad was an idiot, so if I do owe you money? Fine. Add it to the pile. Why not, right? But you’re not going to just waltz into my business--my home--and start demanding things without a better explanation here.”
“With the pillar that it is, it makes you wonder what might happen without it. I’ve certainly wondered.”
The fae nodded some, a look of the very slightest appreciation on his face. He would be even more appreciative of such banter if he had his fates damned money. But he didn’t and his appreciation ran shallow like a nick from a razor. His patience ran just as thin too but he waited. Felix listened. As she explained what poor fashion choices this Dale figure made, he looked away in thought. A hand slipped out his pocket as he rubbed at his jaw. His teeth clicked together. Something was more than wrong.
It was fucked.
“Ah, but you haven’t,” he said. “I’ve been getting breadcrumbs in comparison to what I should be getting. I don’t know who the hell Dale is but I know a Big Carl and that sounds a lot like Big Carl. He’s the reason I’m here. He’s the one that’s supposed to get the stuff from you.” The last time he had seen Big Carl, the guy was in and out. Fast enough that Felix hardly got a word in as he looked at the sad amount of money that had been thrown on his desk. He had been bitter ever since. Felix had thought little of it at the time, about as much as he usually thought of Big Carl.
“On that, you and I agree. Your dad wasn’t so money smart, bit off a little more than he could chew, and I was there to help a guy out. That’s what I do. I help people. Communities, even.” He didn’t smile. “But not without the expectation that at the end of it all, I get what I’m owed. That’s how this works. Your dad knew that but he just kept chewing.”
Erin only entertained his thinly-veiled threat with an eye roll. There were bigger issues at hand. And, apparently, a Big Carl. The thought of there being another fashion-dense ogre of a man sliding through Mr. Doyle’s circles was as unlikely as it was nightmarish. “That’s Dale, then,” she confirmed. “Or Big Carl. Whatever.” That fuck. What had he done now? “I don’t know what he’s doing, and I don’t have any proof he’s actually doing anything, but something stinks, and it’s not coming from the basement. Think we can agree on that much.”
He knew her father. Of course he did. “My dad was an idiot,” she huffed in response. Even this guy knew it and more than likely took advantage of his desperation and stupidity. A new kind of worry built in her gut as she ran a hand over her mouth. “Whatever's going on, it’s not me and I swear I can prove it. Wait here--” she nodded, backing up slowly as she moved down the hall, still in his line of sight. She was sure he trusted her disappearing into a room alone right now as much as she trusted turning her back to him. After digging briefly through her desk, she was rushing back with a small, leather ledger.
“My dad must have gotten rid of or just didn’t write any of his transactions down. Which, I get. Paper trail. But it’s probably partly to blame for how fucked over he was at the end,” she said, giving pause. A flash of his blue eyes nestled between decayed flesh jumped in her mind’s eye. She cleared her throat to shake it off before handing it over. “All of our transactions. Every penny since I’ve taken over.” It was mostly in code, and probably easily decipherable to even the most basic cop. But a book of scribbles and numbers held less weight in comparison to the very solid, frozen evidence under their feet. If she was going to go down, it sure as shit wasn’t going to be because she couldn’t keep track of her books.
Felix’s stance shifted and he started to move. To pace. A habit of his when he started to consider the most efficient yet lesson-learning way to dismantle someone. Big Carl. Dale. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t a stranger to names upon names. He had taken more than a few himself. His lip curled slightly as he took in a slow breath. Stopped walking. The anger was laced with excitement. How long had it been since he had been two-timed? By a man that willingly wore Hawaiian shirts no less? He looked at Erin from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t mind the stink of a few dead bodies,” he finally said. He faced her and cocked his head to the side, his expression less than pleased. “But it appears that we can agree on that. For now.”
As she told him to wait, he nodded and set about to his idle pacing as he lined up his thoughts. When she returned, he took the offered ledger. Shifted his glasses up to look at it with bare eyes. What was written on the ledger in regards to lighting, to him, was the full amount of what he should be receiving. Reality differed. His smile grew, teeth visible.
“I’m getting maybe a tenth of this,” he said as he slid his glasses back on. “That’s funny. That’s really funny. This hasn’t happened to me for a very long time.” He had underestimated Big Carl. Maybe he had lost his touch. He was bubbling with fury. “I’m thoroughly entertained. What do you know about him?”
He believed her. He was pissed, and everything about that sharp smile still made Erin’s blood run cold, but it wasn’t for her. It was for the bald-headed asshole who got nothing but pure joy out of pissing her off on a weekly basis. Her fury towards Felix suddenly veered course, finding a new home. She wasn’t this guy’s biggest fan but common ground had settled her some.
“Not much,” she shook her head, crossing her arms. “I know he corresponds directly with our boss. He’s the money guy or something. Makes all the pick-ups throughout town, however that works. But he comes through the back, same time and day every week. Which is incredibly stupid, by the way. Told him that much too, but the guy’s got the most fragile ego I’ve ever seen. He was waving his gun in my face to shut me up like I’d just insulted his entire bloodline.” She ground her teeth together, trying to recall any other small details. Most of the time she did everything in her power not to think about Dale.
“Flashy. Braggy. Loves to show off whatever new watch or jacket he’s got that week like I give a shit.” Fuck. Seemed stupid obvious in hindsight. She just figured a guy in his position got paid a hell of a lot better than her. Rolled her eyes and scoffed bitterly. God, this guy was stupider then she gave him credit for. “Guess he doesn’t think of me as a threat.” That was putting it lightly.
Felix listened to every word she said carefully. White Crest wasn’t a particularly large town. Not in his eyes. Small towns had this capacity to suffocate that intrigued him. Constricted yet somehow more freeing than a city could be. It was charming the way a coral snake could be if one confused it for a milk snake.
“So he keeps to a schedule,” he remarked. That was good. Very good. Nothing made a job easier than a predictable idiot too puffed up to notice he was sinking. “I like that. We can most certainly work with that. And I am awfully curious about this boss of yours.” He huffed a dry laugh at the mention of an insulted bloodline. If Felix had his way, there wouldn’t be enough blood left in the man to determine which line went where. Now that their ire had changed from being directed towards each other to someone else, someone far more worthy, the tension in him unwound. Erin’s hatred for Dale was near tangible like heated iron. It wasn’t something he could wield. But she certainly could.
“It’s good that he doesn’t, you know.” His smile bordered on serpentine. “See you as one. People like that never realize it until that curtain comes down and they’re left to wonder where everyone went.” He looked at Erin for a long moment before he extended a hand. “I’m glad we’ve met, Ms. Nichols. Circumstances and all. Would you let me know the next time you see Dale?”
“I’m pretty curious myself,” Erin agreed, casting a quick look his way. “And I could say the same about you, Mr. Doyle.” Her immediate fears were calmed for now, she assumed. He wasn’t gunning for her throat and he seemed nearly as convinced as she was about the true culprit. Still--that borderline insidious smile of his knew he was handing her a gift. Dale was the kind of guy who couldn’t see past himself. Didn’t want to, didn’t care to. She wasn’t even a speck on his radar. Two birds, one bald, ugly stone. All she had to do was accept it.
Felix extend his hand towards her and she just watched, hesitant, like this was some sort of trick. Maybe they’d built trust on a more solid foundation. Maybe she’d never see this guy again. But considering it was the professional thing to do here, she shook his hand firmly in return. 
“I don’t think he’s going to bother you much anymore,” she said simply. The words came out so easily, so confidently, it surprised even herself. The implication was pretty clear. This one was hers and fuck it--she was taking it. Nerves buzzed beneath her skin and something in her felt just that much lighter, but stronger. Like she’d reclaimed a sliver of the power she’d lost the moment she found her father’s half-assed note and a bag of frozen hearts. “I’ll remind him I’m still around.”
There was still a debt to be paid, after all. 
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holycafe · 5 years
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Deja Vu
Coldflash Week Fall 2019: Different First Meeting
When the Oculus blew, Len didn’t die. Instead, he woke back up in the body of his past self on the night before his first ever run-in with the Flash. Now Len has a chance to do it all over again; what changes would he make this time around?
(I have a lot of edits and fics for this ship as well as destiel, sterek, etc. My masterposts can be found here. If you’re on a desktop site then you can just jump on over to my page to view the rest of my coldflash edits.)
A full fanfic for this will be on the way soon (hopefully), but please accept the following couple of extracts in the meantime and, if you feel inspired by this post, feel free to run with it yourself! I only ask that you give me credit for the idea.
[] [] []
The taste of Sara's lips lingered on his tongue. Len hoped she'd gotten away. He hoped they all had. His team. He'd never been much of a team player in the past, but that was before he'd joined the Legends. And look where it had left him: holding onto a device that was set to blow at any second.
All things considered, Len supposed this was a good way to go. He wondered what Barry would think of him now. What would the Flash say once he learnt that Len had died a hero? Would Barry mourn him? Maybe. He was a god damn bleeding heart if ever Len had known one.
When the Time Masters surrounded him, Len had time for one last line. One last snarky comment. He'd make sure it was a good one.
"No strings on me," Len said, and he closed his eyes to the blinding light filling the room.
His last thought was of Lisa.
He supposed he should have expected that... his sister had always loved that damn film and insisted on watching it with him every birthday. Though he'd missed it last year, having been recently arrested for killing their father, so she'd had to come to visit him in prison instead. Lisa forgave Len that though, saying Lewis Snart's death was a better present than she could have asked for and more than made up for one skipped birthday. She'd made him promise not to miss her next one, though... it seemed like Len was going to be breaking that promise. He supposed she'd have to find someone else to carry on that tradition with her from now on. Maybe it would be Cisco? He was a good guy, and it was obvious to Len just how much the two cared for each other. If it wasn’t Cisco, though, Len just had to hope it wasn’t Rosa either; she’d messed with Lisa’s heart too much already.
But, whoever it was, they had better take good care of his little sister or Len would come back to personally haunt their ass.
No strings on me.
No strings on me…
No strings on me…
"There are no strings on me!"
Len sat forward with a jolt, panting heavily as his mind swam with mental whiplash. It took him far too long to blink away his confusion and recognise where he was.
"Lenny? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Lisa was asking, placing her hand on his back. He tried not to cringe away from her touch
"You have no strings, your arms is free, to love me by the Zuider Zee," the song continued.
"Yeah..." he said slowly, looking away from Pinocchio dancing away on the TV to Lisa. Slowly, he settled back down on his sister's sofa. "Yeah, I'm fine." His heart was racing, and he was still panting, but he was calming down again now. "Just a bad dream." But it had felt like so much more than that... it had felt real.
"You fell asleep while watching Pinocchio?" Lisa asked, looking thoroughly unimpressed. She really did love this film. "It's not even nine o'clock. And it's my birthday!"
"Sorry, Sis," Len shrugged. He didn't have much else to say. The longer his eyes were open, the more faded the dream felt. Of course, it hadn't been real... Len internally chided himself for even considering that a possibility. Speedsters and immortals and time travel? That stuff could never really exist! It had just been a dream. A very, very weird dream.
"You're getting old, Lenny," his sister teased, and Len rolled his eyes.
[] [] []
The next morning, s Leonard and his team rode down the armoured van, Len could feel his heart racing in his chest. But he couldn’t let some dream interfere with his heist. He’d been planning it for months, and it was set to be the biggest haul of his career. He and all of his crew would be walking away with at least two mil’ each. He wasn’t about to bail out now.
So, Len continued on. However, he couldn’t help but throw glances over his shoulder as he dismounted his bike and grabbed the liquid nitrogen containers to bust open the door. And when the red blur did, in fact, come rushing to the rescue, Len didn’t hang around to check it out as he’d done in his dream. He jumped on his bike and got the hell out of dodge, mask still firmly in place.
Back at the safe house, Len’s mind was spinning. His dream… it couldn’t have been real. Could it? It wasn’t possible. But neither was the red blur which had interrupted his heist. Len stared at the screen, the surveillance footage he’d swiped from the van playing under his sharp gaze. It was exactly as Len had remembered it in his dream. Everything was happening in precisely the same way. The thought made Len’s stomach twist into knots. If the dream was real… then that meant that Len had only eighteen months left before he died.
But, what a hell of an eighteen months they would be: becoming Captain Cold, going up against the mob, getting rid of Lewis once and for all, travelling through time, and doing and taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
Well, almost…
There was one thing that Len found himself wanting desperately. One person. Someone that Len would have never expected to fall for…
And Len supposed that that was it: that was how he could find out, once and for all, whether this dream of his was coming true or not. Len would have to track down Barry Allen. If he was real, then this whole thing, whatever it was, must be real too.
That was how he found himself inside CC Jitters the next morning, waiting on an impossible man.
His dream-self had done surveillance on Barry from the moment he’d squeezed the man’s name from Cisco’s lips. Months of monitoring his comings and goings. He’d learnt everything that he possibly could about Barry, stopping only once Len had found the young man getting cosy with a female cop and noticed the way his gut twisted with jealousy at the sight of the pair… But that wouldn’t be for another year yet.
In Len’s dream, the Flash had frequented this coffee shop day in and day out. So, if Len wanted to run into him, then this was the place to do it.
Len didn’t have long to wait before the door opened and in walked Barry Allen and Iris West. Iris patted her friend on the shoulder and moved behind the counter to put on an apron. But Len’s eyes were trained on Barry. He was dressed like a preschool teacher in a sweater vest and shirt with a pair of slim-fit jeans. It looked good on him, though Len would be surprised if he found anything that looked bad on this man.
The goody type didn’t usually do it for Len, but there was so much more to Barry than met the eye and thus, regardless, Len found his heart racing frantically against his chest. Though, maybe his reaction was less about seeing Barry again and more about the crushing realisation that his dream had been real.
Len couldn’t understand how that was possible. He’d dreamt about the future. But how? He wasn’t a meta… was he?
Barry was leaning on the counter now and talking to his friend. From this angle, Len could just about see the grin on the Flash’s face. One part of Len wanted to stay and watch this impossible man some more, but another part of him needed time to think things over. Getting up, Len shrugged his coat back on over his shoulders and made to leave the café. But then someone was tripping up and crashing into him.
Len stumbled, shooting a hand out to a nearby post, and steadying himself and the other man before they both went hurtling to the floor. He looked down to find Barry Allen’s big green eyes looking back up at him, the to-go cup he’d been holding slipping to the floor and spilling all over Len’s shoes. Though, Len realised he didn’t quite mind that. He could always buy a new pair.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” Barry said, pulling himself up. “I was backing up, and I wasn’t looking where I was going. And I… I’ll pay for your dry cleaning!” Barry continued. Len looked down at himself, seeing that some of the coffee had indeed also splattered against his new coat. Len didn’t mind that either. Barry twisted to grab his wallet from his jeans pocket, and Len realised he was still holding onto Barry’s shoulder; he quickly let go.
“They’re only clothes,” Len said. He sounded breathless. He was breathless. Len was working without a plan here, and he always had a plan. He hadn’t intended to meet Barry today, but now that he had… "Let me buy you another drink,” Len said, slipping into his drawl like putting on a good pair of gloves. He watched Barry closely and was happy to see a brush of colour sweep across the younger man’s cheeks.
"But, I was the one who bumped into you,” Barry protested, still holding his wallet as though he was going to insist on paying. Len placed his hand purposefully over Barry’s.
"Yeah, you were," Len said, smirking. He enjoyed the way that Barry grinned at him in return. Their relationship in the dream had been much more difficult. But this? This was easy. "You look like a caramel latte, kind of guy."
"How did you know?"
"Call it a hunch," Len shrugged. The truth was, he remembered it being Barry’s go-to drink in his dream. Though, his friends would often order a Flash for him as a joke. Len would have liked to make that same joke now, but that particular drink wasn’t on the menu… yet. “Also,” Len said, dipping down to pick the spilt disposable coffee cup up off the floor, "it's written on your cup."
"Oh, right," Barry laughed. Len, smirk still in place, stepped around the spill to toss the now-empty cup in the trash at the same time that Iris came over with a mop. Barry apologised to her, but she only gave Barry a not-so-subtle wink and nodded with her head for Barry to follow Len to the counter. Barry had turned an even brighter shade of red by this point.
Len ordered the man’s drink and then leant back against the counter, elbows propped up behind him and taking his time to slowly look Barry up and down.
“So, Barry, do you make a habit of running into people at coffee shops or am I just lucky?” Len drawled, and Barry scratched nervously at the back of his neck.
“Well, I try not to,” Barry laughed. “Not everyone’s as nice about it as you are,” he said, and Len almost burst out laughing. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him ‘nice’ before. “Wait, you know my name?” Barry asked. But he quickly shook his head and tapped his crown in a ‘duh’ gesture. “The coffee cup,” he said, answering his own question. “Though, now I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t know your name.”
“Hmm,” Len uttered. He leisurely looked Barry up and down one last time, drawing it out and enjoying how the younger man squirmed under his gaze. “I think we can rectify that,” Len said eventually, then he quickly pushed back off the counter and turned around to grab a napkin. He took a pen out of his coat pocket and scrawled his name and number down. By the time he was done, Barry’s order was ready, so he handed both the cup and napkin to the speedster at the same time. "You can run into me anytime, Barry," he winked and then sauntered out of the coffee shop before Barry could do anything more than blush.
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dancedelion · 4 years
Text
Sunlight
Genre: angst and fluff Word Count: 2126 Summary: Geralt can't figure Jaskier out. All he knows is that things are harder with him around than they were without him. So he drives him away - after all, witchers don't have feelings, do they? ao3: Sunlight
“This is how life was meant to be lived,” Jaskier said. “The sun kissing your skin, the grass under your back. There's no better feeling, don't you think so, Geralt?” Geralt squinted at the sun from where he was leading Roach to the river. Then he looked back at Jaskier.
“Witchers don't have feelings,” he said in his low voice, but not without humour.
“Oh, come on,” Jaskier said. “That's your excuse for everything. Let me charge into battle for I don't feel pain. Let's walk for hours on end for I don't feel a need to rest.” Jaskier moved one arm under his head and gesticulated with his other. “Some of us are human.”
“Some of us are trying to have some peace and quiet,” Geralt said, watching the river. It took a right turn into the forest down by the acorn tree.
“You know, if you didn't have feelings, you wouldn't get so annoyed all the time.”
Garelt made a vague noise, presumably dismissive in nature.
“Yeah, that's right,” Jaskier said, waving his finger around. “I can see right through you.” Geralt tensed subtly, but continued guiding Roach to the water. He carefully kept his eyes on her as she began drinking. There was something heavy lodged in his stomach and he had to take a few breaths before it disappeared. Jaskier was already talking again.
“I know there are people who enjoy doing things, but I'm not one of them. It's just not for me. Doing things? No thanks. I'll just do nothing.” “Then why are you talking?” Geralt said through gritted teeth.
“Okay, okay,” Jaskier conceded. “Maybe not quite nothing. Nothing with some light conversation sprinkled on top.”
Geralt went looking through his bag to find something to feed Roach.
“It doesn't have to be a conversation, really,” Jaskier continued.
There was still an apple left from the farm they had passed in the morning.
“I quite like the sound of my own voice, really,” Jaskier said.
“At least someone does,” Geralt growled. Him included.
“I'll have you know that my voice is widely beloved,” Jaskier said indignantly, “beloved all over the place, in all lands, all taverns, by all river sides. Well. All I've visited – which is not quite all, but -”
Geralt closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. He let the chatter wash over him. It was quite peaceful, all things considered.
People said it was a bad idea to get close to a Witcher. Which, of course, was correct. Jaskier, though, didn't seem to care what people said. Or common sense. Or even the smallest of survival instincts.
So Geralt wasn't used to people trying to get close to him. It was a bad idea. He had yet to discover the amount of sniping and snarling he had to do to make Jaskier realize that too.
Geralt could deal with people, usually. Most people were straight forward about what they wanted. A monster killed. Sex. A fight. Geralt gave it to them or he didn't. He left a mess behind or he didn't. Then he moved on to the next one. It was easy. It was simple.
Jaskier was – difficult.
At first it was easy. Mindless curiosity. Fame, maybe. Possibly a hidden death wish. But then Jaskier stayed. And that was – a little – somehow – how -
It was irritating.
Where is the monster you want me to kill for you, bard?
Some nights, Jaskier got – quiet. Normally, Geralt would have enjoyed the peace. He could do companionable silence. Not when it was Jaskier.
He was sitting under a tree, lute in his arm, playing a small, sad melody. Over and over.
“You're not writing a song about me, are you?” Geralt said. Jaskier didn't smile.
“The world doesn't revolve around you, Geralt,” Jaskier said.
Geralt didn't know what to say, so he didn't. He didn't know where to push. It was bad enough talking. It was worse talking about this.
They said in silence for a while. Then, Jaskier began to sing to his tune, very quietly. Garelt could make out words like sweet and kiss.
“Are you writing a love song?” Geralt asked.
Jaskier paused, his fingers hovering over the strings of his lute. Geralt got the distinct feeling he was doing this wrong. There were different rules for different situations. Normally, interest and questions are appreciated. They didn't seem to be now.
Maybe he was asking the wrong kind of questions.
“No,” Jaskier said and continued on playing. Geralt decided not to call him out on his lie.
Some nights, Geralt couldn't keep his expression under control completely. He roused from his sleep – from his nightmares – from the faces haunting him. The girl in the woods haunting him. The princess. He woke with a gasp, heavy breathing. It woke Jaskier.
“What's wrong?” Jaskier asked, immediately leaning forward and placing a hand on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt sucked in a sharp breath. Nothing – he wanted to say, but he liked to think of himself as a better liar. You weren't supposed to see-
He calmed his breathing. Schooled his expression.
“Nightmare,” he said simply.
“What did you dream about?” Jaskier asked, softly, kindly. There was empathy in his gaze. It was too much to bear.
“Your singing,” Geralt said and turned away. He tried to will himself to sleep. To dream. Something nice, for once. Maybe Jaskier. Hopefully not Jaskier.
“How many humans are you going to kill,” Jaskier started. Geralt's whole body tensed. He held still. “And how many monsters are you going to save,” Jaskier continued tiredly, “before you admit that you care?”
Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that Jaskier wouldn't see.
Fighting used to be easy. The stakes were clear. The reward was too. He went into the fight knowing the risk. It was day-to-day for a Witcher. Fight until you die. There was nothing else.
Now, though. Now the stakes were higher. He didn't go into batte alone. There was a human, with next to no fighting skill and no sense of self-preservation – fragile. It made decisions harder – it made plans harder -
It was a price harder to pay.
When he was lying there – hurting -
When another monster slashed across his chest -
and he might not make it
but he's going to make it.
Witchers don't cry. You need to feel to cry.
And he makes it -
and he's fine -
and he's chattering -
but -
I'm starting to think your monster is -
Jaskier was irritating. Nearly impossible to get rid of.
Geralt growled and Jaskier stayed.
Geralt lashed out and Jaskier stayed.
Geralt argued and argued and Jaskier stayed.
Then, he discovered the nearly in impossible.
Why were his cheeks wet?
Witchers don't get lonely. They're meant to be alone. A lonely witcher is like a drowning fish.
He certainly didn't use to be lonely before. Did he?
Things were easier now. More... straight-forward. More... logical. Practical. Geralt didn't need to be needed. He didn't need to be liked. He just needed to get the job done. And he did.
Only, it didn't get the job done and his chest was still – tight.
His conversations with Roach were not quite as lively as they used to be.
Geralt found himself humming that damned melody more often. It still felt like something was missing.
Best of all was the peace, of course. He should have driven Jaskier away years ago – he'd tried for years, just not that hard.
It was easier without Jaskier.
And why would he miss him? It's not like he'd never had a friend before. A real friend. Or someone to trust. Or someone to make him smile. He'd had that, he was sure of it, a life-time ago -
And he wasn't wondering what Jaskier was doing – if he was doing fine – if he was still senselessly throwing himself in danger. What songs he was composing.
Geralt was restless. There was no sleep. He had to know, had to know he was safe. He remembered him sitting there under a tree, leaning against the wall, strolling ahead.
All Geralt wanted was some god damn peace.
All Geralt wanted was seeing Jaskier.
Geralt was in a tavern – he was in taverns a lot these days - not looking for him. There was a bard singing – not the bard – and he was singing about a 'humble bard' accompanying a witcher.
And Geralt didn't feel things -
it was just that weight on his chest -
his mind full of thoughts, full of Jaskier -
And Geralt didn't need anyone but -
it was so much harder.
Geralt considered himself to be a good liar, but not that good.
I miss him, he thought. And then it hit him like a knife to the stomach – like putting on glasses after walking around half-blind your whole life.
He was my friend.
Was.
But I wanted him to be -something else.
“Got kicked in his chest,” the bard sang.
“Fuck,” Geralt said.
He didn't look for him. It might not have been easier on him, but it was certainly easier on Jaskier.
It was a bad idea to get close to a witcher, after all. Geralt had proven it. Forgiveness would be hard-earned – hard-kept, probably. Just because suddenly there was that something in his chest, didn't mean it was hard not to push away, to open up, to trust. Though it was always, always, easier when it was Jaskier.
One day, he simply saw him sitting there, on the ground, with his lute, as if destiny had put him there. Geralt had stopped in his tracks and stared.
“Jaskier,” he said, unable to stop himself. Jaskier looked up, something haunted in his eyes before he recognized Geralt. Then his expression turned sour.
“Huh?” he said. “You talking to me? Not beneath your notice? Not just the fly next to your ear that you can just swat away?”
And the animal in Geralt immediately bared its teeth.
“Maybe if you would stop buzzing-”
He stopped himself and tried to reign in his temper. He didn't deserve a second chance – second chance? How many chances had Jaskier given him already?
“Jaskier, I'm sorry,” he said.
Jaskier eyed him warily. “For what?” “Everything. Pushing you away. You are – you were my friend. I shouldn't have denied it.”
Jaskier pushed himself up and started walking towards Geralt now. His gaze was still guarded.
“You're taking it back? That you want me gone? That everything is my fault?” “I'm sorry for saying these things. I was – I didn't mean any of it. I'm just... sorry.” Jaskier's whole face lit up.
“Then I am.” “What?” “Your friend.” “You shouldn't forgive me so easily,” Geralt said uncertainly.
“Oh, you know how bad I am at listening,” Jaskier said, seemingly unconcerned. “Giving me advice is a useless endeavour, you should know that by now.”
Jaskier started fiddling with his lute and walking ahead. “Let's go to that tavern nearby. Why are you here? Are you hunting a monster? Are we going to -” “Jaskier.” Jaskier turned around and startled when he saw that Geralt wasn't following him.
“I think...” Geralt said and braced himself. “I might have... some feelings.” “You don't say.” “Jaskier.”
Jaskier crossed his arms and looked to the ground.
“I never really expected you to admit that we're friends. Or see me as a friend,” he shrugged, clearly trying to seem unbothered. “It's fine.” “That's not what I -”
Frustrated, Geralt turned his head. He couldn't find the right words. Geralt didn't have many words. People didn't understand him. People misunderstood him. Jaskier had an abundance of words, but he could understand a language that didn't.
“Some feelings, huh?” he said and licked his lips. “Yeah. Me too.”
Geralt leaned down, leaned closer. He carefully put a hand to Jaskier's cheek.
“I thought – I was the monster haunting you -” Geralt said suddenly. He couldn't keep the thought in any more.
“You're not my monster,” Jaskier said quietly, “you're my witcher.”
Emotions, Geralt thought. He didn't know how humans could handle it. He leaned a little closer.
“Is this okay?” he said when their lips were almost touching.
“You act as if I've never done this before,” Jaskier said, “will you just get on wi-”
Geralt pressed their lips together gently.
It was like sunlight on his face.
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So as many of you know I adore @dancingwdinosaurs art. I’ve always loved an artwork of Penny and Baz and that particular one was updated this week. I couldn't hold back from writing a one-shot fic about the moment pictured in the art. Here it is, with thanks to @dancingwdinosaurs for the inspiration! Find the image I’m referencing here: https://dancingwdinosaurs.tumblr.com/image/187031713840
Lean On Me
Penelope
Today’s not been a good day. We were at the inquiry for hours and Simon’s been a jittery mess since. The sofa’s currently vibrating from the way his leg’s bouncing, and he’s chewing at his fingernails again. He’s going to make them bleed if he doesn’t stop.
That’s going to be a problem.
We both had to answer questions today. I thought I could keep them from harping on Simon, I really did. I was the one who used the spell, after all. I didn’t know what Simon was going to say, I didn’t realize the Mage was such a colossal prick that there was nothing that could stop him from continuing to hurt Simon.
It’s not like we haven’t been through this before. The facts aren’t going to change.
I suppose they didn’t originally intend to grill us quite that hard, but it felt particularly harsh today. Dr. Wellbelove made them stop at one point, when Simon was stammering and sweating, and I swear if he still had magic he’d have blown the roof off the place. I kept waiting for his edges to blur, for that red tinge and to smell the smoke of him.
It never came, of course, and it made me feel a bit sick to know it never will again.
My dad thinks there’s a chance, a chance the magic might creep back to the surface again—not as powerful as it was (it could never be like that again, thank Merlin)—but he thinks that the holes will fill up too. And Simon has kind of a magic shaped hole in him now, doesn’t he?
I mean, I know the Humdrum was the Simon shaped hole in the fabric of magic, but that doesn’t mean Simon can’t function like the holes too. I don’t think Simon’s Normal. I think it’s rubbish when people assume he is, just because magicians don’t give up their children.
I assumed it once myself, but I know Simon better now. I don’t think anyone non-magical could have ever held so much power. I think Simon’s parents must have been Mages—one of them at least—but something happened.
Something bad. Something so bad that they couldn’t keep him, couldn’t tell anyone.
Maybe they tried to leave the World of Mages, like my mum’s friend Lucy. Left their wands behind and disappeared into the Normal world.
A motor vehicle accident. A robbery gone bad. A vampire attack. Goblins. Something they couldn’t fix or escape or heal without magic.
Or maybe it was simpler than that. A liaison with a Normal. An unexpected pregnancy. Magical power that skipped a generation.
I don’t know.
I’ve come up with all sorts of scenarios in my head, but none of them manage to ring true. I can’t explain why I’m sure Simon was never really Normal. I just know it, deep inside.
It was Baz’s father who finally made them stop for good today. He’s there every time, sitting next to Dr. Wellbelove, all cool and collected. Can’t ever tell what he’s thinking. He’s so like Baz, putting on that inscrutable mask all the time.
He let it fall today, though. Merlin, I thought he was going to flay that man questioning us with his eyes. Malcolm Grimm stood up right in the middle of the interrogation, when Simon was practically incoherent, and barked “That’s quite enough, Reginald. This is an inquiry, not a trial. Let the boy have some peace and be done for the day.”
I don’t think even Reginald had it in him to argue, not with the glares he was getting from Mr. Grimm. Dr. Wellbelove chimed in again and they finally let us go.
Baz would have skipped school to be there today. I know he would have. He told me so last weekend.
It might have helped Simon, to have Baz there. Having Baz around always helps Simon. It grounds him in a way that I can’t. Even if he doesn’t do much more than hold Baz’s hand or lean against him, I know it helps. He’s not as skittish when Baz is around. He still doesn’t say much, but his eyes don’t look quite as haunted.
I know Baz has tried to come before, but Mum told me weeks ago that Mr. Grimm had given her clearance to spell the gates so Baz couldn’t sneak out. He seems thinks Baz might go off, if he’s forced to watch the proceedings.
He might have today.
I wonder if Mr. Grimm just doesn’t want the Coven members getting too close a look at Baz.
I know his fangs pop when he gets upset or emotional. They’d have popped today. I was about ready to bite someone by the end.
I texted Baz while we were driving home, told him that it might not be a good day to come, but I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will keep him from driving here to see Simon.
I just know it breaks his heart to see Simon like this.
It breaks my heart.
But I think it’s harder for him, on these bad days, when he can’t lift Simon’s spirits at all. When he tries his hardest to be soft, to be kind, and gets no response.
I’m still getting used to the idea of Baz Pitch being soft, mind you. But I’ve gotten to know Baz this year. First with all the research on the Watford Tragedy last term and then that horrible Christmas Day. And after.
And every weekend since.
He’s here every Friday night, without fail. There’s no place for him to sleep, but he stays anyway, curled up on the floor next to the bed, or on the living room sofa with Simon in his arms.
Or on my bed with Simon. I let him start doing that about a month ago. I felt bad for him, on the hard floor (even though he spelled it soft, the posh twit), shivering under mounds of blankets. I knew he’d rather be snuggled up with Simon.
And that Simon needed him close too.
Morgana knows, it’s a challenge sleeping in the same bed with Simon and those blasted dragon wings. The two of them manage somehow, better than I do. Simon’s wings just curve around Baz, in a way he doesn’t manage with anyone else. They fit together, the barmy gits, like two pieces of a puzzle.
It’s not the first time I’ve slept in the bathtub, so I manage alright. I’ve got a spell to make it cozy. “Snug as a bug in a rug” gets it all warm and soft.
I wouldn’t sleep in a bathtub for just anyone. I’d do it for Simon.
And I’d do it for Baz. I’ve gotten used to having him around. I think I look forward to his visits almost as much as Simon.
Well, maybe not quite as much as Simon.
Baz is brilliant. I mean, I knew that from Watford, but he’s smart and funny, with such an incisive and wry sense of humor.
I didn’t know that.
It’s nice having someone who shares a keen interest in obscure linguistic conundrums. And can knowledgeably debate about Magickal Politics.
And knows about the influence of The Lord of the Rings on Led Zeppelin.  
I never expected to actually like Baz Pitch.
I’ve not told anyone this, but I’m concerned about Baz.
About him getting his schoolwork done when he’s on his mobile with Simon every night, talking to him until Simon falls asleep.
About him being here every weekend, the hours of driving back and forth, in all sorts of weather.
About the silences and thousand-yard stares he gets from Simon when he does come.
We’re all fretting about Simon, but I don’t know if anyone’s worrying about Baz.
Other than Mr. Grimm, that is. I know that’s why he won’t let Baz come to the inquiry sessions. He knows he’s shouldering a lot as it is.
I check the clock just as the doorbell rings. Simon’s leg stutters to a stop and his tail starts lashing around instead.
I was thinking Baz was due soon. He’s here earlier than I expected, which means he’s spelled his way through traffic, besotted fool that he is.
“I’ll get it,” I shout. Not that anyone else is paying much attention. Mum and Dad are in the attic. They’re always in the attic on weekends it seems, poring over the maps and data points Dad’s compiled.
My siblings are probably just lying about in their rooms. Typical.
Even though I’m sure Simon knows it’s Baz, he doesn’t answer the door. He never does. I don’t know if it’s because it’s not his house and he’s worried about being the one inviting Baz in.
Not that it’s an issue—I invited Baz in the first time and he’s good now, no need to ask again. Mum’s adjusted the wards on the house to accommodate.
He’s on the doorstep waiting for me, his satchel over his shoulder. “Bunce.”
“Baz. Come in. Simon’s in the den.”
He steps in the door but he’s hesitant this time, eyes darting around. “I know you said not to come tonight, but . . .”
It’s not often Baz Pitch is at a loss for words. “But you couldn’t stay away, yes I know.” I bump his shoulder. “Come along, I’m sure Simon can’t wait to see you.”
His demeanor doesn’t change. He’s still hovering by the door, fingers tightly curled around the handle of his bag.
“Baz?”
I take a moment to get a good look at him. He’s pale, but no more than usual, actually a little better if I’m going to be honest. Must have fed before he came.
Smart move. There’s not much to be had in Hounslow other than household pets and the occasional squirrel. There’s the Urban Farm in Feltham, but that’s a bit chancy—there’re pigs and sheep and goats and whatnot there—more like pets than livestock so someone would certainly notice if one was suddenly gone.
“You drove all the way out here to see him. Come on.” I tug on his sleeve but he’s still not moving.
“I heard it was rough today.”
“I told you it was when I texted you. It’s alright. We’ve managed before, we’ll manage again.”
“Father said it was bad.”
Oh.
I suppose it makes sense that Baz’s father would give him an update, since he’s there every time.
“It’s alright. Dr. Wellbelove gave us a break and your dad made them stop this afternoon. I’m sure he told you?”
“He told me.”
“So what are you waiting for, you git? Simon’s liable to knock the room to bits with his wings if we leave him waiting too long.” I step closer to Baz, put a hand on his forearm. “He knows you’re coming. He’s probably getting all worked up about why you’ve not made an appearance yet.”
Baz is staring at the floor now. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
I roll my eyes. “Why would you say that? You know you help.”More than I do, I think again.
“I’m not so sure.” His knuckles are bone white, he’s gripping the handle so hard. His other hand is jammed in his pocket, but I can see the outline of a fist through the fabric of his coat.
Always complaining he’s cold but won’t ever wear a coat that actually keeps him warm.
“Baz, what’s going on?”
He closes his eyes and breathes in. I can barely hear him when he speaks again. “He’s not getting better, Penny. It’s been months and I’m trying so hard, but I’m not reaching him.” He bites his lip. “I don’t know what to say to him.”
“You don’t have to say anything. You just need to be there. Nothing calms him like you do, Baz. He’s been clinging to you for dear life since this all started. You’re the only thing that brings him back, bit by bit.”
He shakes his head, the great thumping git. These two are going to be the death of me, honestly. “I’m going back to the den and you’re coming with me.” I hook my arm around his and drag him down the hall.
Simon, as expected, is all thrashing agitation. His tail’s thumping on the sofa, his face is flushed and I know he knocked over my books with his wings because they’re all out of order now. His eyes widen at the sight of Baz and if anything, his tail gets even wilder.
“Look what I found on our doorstep.” I don’t even have to give Baz a shove to get him moving.  
Once he catches sight of Simon he drops his bag to the floor and crosses the room to sit at his side, swiping Simon’s curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Hello, love.”
I swear I never get tired of seeing this. Baz Pitch being a tender, attentive boyfriend. It’s bizarre and endearing at the same time.
Simon melts into Baz’s side. Literally. He’s pressed against him, his head on Baz’s shoulder, fingers clutching for a grip on Baz’s hand, his one wing curving around Baz’s back in a weird, bony embrace.
Idiots, the both of them.
I let them be, go fuss around in the kitchen, making a pretense of scrounging up some snacks.
It’s hours later and we’re all slumped on the sofa, the closing credits of “Four Weddings and A Funeral” scrolling past. I’ve watched so many Hugh Grant films with these two. I swear Baz has a thing for Hugh Grant. I had no idea he was so into rom-coms, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.
He’s proving to be quite a romantic sap.
At the moment Baz is curled up with Simon, running his fingers through Simon’s hair and bending down to press soft kisses to the top of his head every so often when he thinks I’m not watching them.
I’m watching them. I’ve seen this movie so many times I can recite the dialogue in my head. I think there must be something in it that could work for a spell, but I just can’t make myself put in the effort right now. I never had my chance to come up with one at Watford—I left before ours were due to be tested.
Now my focus is too scattered to come up with anything worthwhile, what with this stupid inquiry taking up so much of my time.  
And taking care of Simon.
I dart a glance at the boys again. Simon’s sitting up now, yawning and stretching.
“Call it a night then?” I say.
Simon nods. “Shower first, I think, for me.”
He’s taken to showering at night, since he’s been with us. Morning was his usual routine at Watford, but there are far too many people in this house and not enough bathrooms. It’s a problem.
Simon squeezes Baz’s hand one more time before he gets up and wanders down the hall.
I shift closer to Baz, scooting over the still-warm cushions Simon had so recently occupied. “Hey.”
He studies me from his corner of the sofa, eyes half lidded, arms crossed over his chest. I scoot closer and wind my arm in his again, leaning in, ignoring the way he twitches when I do.  I just hold his arm more tightly. “You alright, Baz?”
“I’m fine, Bunce. It’s Simon you should be worried about.”
“I do worry about Simon. I feel like that’s become my full-time job.” I nudge his shoulder. “But right now, I’m more worried about you.” My voice drops as I meet his eyes. “Who’s looking after you, Baz?”
He scoffs and for a moment the old Baz is back. “Mind your business, you meddlesome wench. I’m fine.”
“You most certainly are not. You’re thinner, for one. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes which makes me think you’re not sleeping well.” I squeeze his arm. “You look like you did when you first came back to school after the numpty incident.”
He glares at me. “We don’t talk about the numpty incident.”
I groan. “Fine. But you still look like hell and it’s not like you to be so hesitant to come in the house. You would have steamrolled over me that first time, if I hadn’t let you in. I practically had to beg you to cross the threshold tonight.” He’s not meeting my eyes now. “What’s going on, Baz?”
It takes him a minute of resolutely glaring at the carpet before he sighs and slumps back into the cushions. “I just feel so useless at Watford. I can’t help Simon from there and I’m not sure I help him when I’m here either.” He closes his eyes. “I don’t think it’s easy for him to separate me out from all that happened, I’m tied into it. If I hadn’t forced him into a truce, if I hadn’t made him help me find out about my mother . . .”
“You can stop right there, Baz Pitch. You never forced Simon to do anything. No one ever did, except for the Mage. He never would have agreed to that truce if he didn’t want to do it. You know that. Stop telling yourself any different.” I haven’t had a chance for a good rant in a while, so I keep going. “You think you aren’t helping? Simon wouldn’t get to sleep if it wasn’t for your calls every night. You spend hours listening to him breathe, just to get him to settle. Hours you could be spending on so many other things. He lives for the weekends. Literally. He starts watching the clock once it gets past four in the afternoon. He knows you’re always here by seven and it takes all his self-control to not flap those dratted dragon wings of his and upset the furniture. You make the difference, Baz. You, not me. I just make sure he’s fed. And I don’t even manage that half as well as you do.”
I slump back against the cushions next to him and take his hand. Baz’s fingers are cool as I slide my warm ones between his. “Trust me. You’re the one thing he relies on, to get him through all of this.”
I turn my head to look at him. Baz’s eyes are still closed and if I didn’t know better I’d swear there was a bit of moisture in the corners. I squeeze his hand. “I truly am worried about you now. You’re never at a loss for words.”
He opens his eyes to glare at me, looking down his nose in that way he has. “I’m not at a loss for words, Bunce. I’m choosing to ignore you.”
That just makes me snort. “Rubbish.”
He closes his eyes once more but his head’s tilted towards me this time and he grips my hand a bit more tightly. “I’m not going to say this again, and I’ll deny it if you dare tell anyone, but your concern is appreciated, Penelope.”
I tilt my head towards his, until a stray strand of his hair grazes my forehead. He never slicks it back anymore. I know why. I consider saying something about it, but I stop myself.
We’ve never had a moment like this and I don’t want to spoil it. We worked together to figure out the mystery of Natasha Pitch’s death and we need to work together in regard to Simon.
Baz sits up a moment later, head tilted towards the hallway. “Simon should be back in a moment.” Blasted vampire senses. I’d not heard the water shut off.
I let go of his hand and we both stand up, a little awkward after our moment of companionship.
“Thank you, Bunce.” “You’re welcome, Baz. Just remember that we’re in this together, for Simon.” I pause for a breath and then add what I now know is true. “And for each other.”
He’s off a moment later, when Simon sheepishly peeks into the room.
I decide to take the sofa for the night. They need this time together and even if it’s lumpy, it’s still better than a bathtub. Even a spelled one.
It’s a bit of a surprise when Baz pads into the den a few moments later. “You not going to bed yet, Bunce?”
I make a show of yawning. “Think I’ll just stay here for the night. Too tired to move.”
He raises that eyebrow of his.
I shrug. “I’m fine here, Baz. Get on back to Simon now.”
He leaves, but he’s back a moment later with a blanket. “You’ll need this.” He drapes it over me.
“You’ll freeze in there without it.”
There’s that Baz smirk. “There’s a whole pile of them on the floor and Simon’s like a personal space heater. You know that.”
“Not as well as you do. Now shove off and snuggle with your boyfriend and let me have a moment’s peace.”
I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes.
The sunlight slanting in through the window is what wakes me the next morning. There’s a clatter of plates in the kitchen. I stumble down the hall to the bathroom to wash the sleep from my eyes and then I shuffle into the kitchen.
Baz is seated at the counter watching Simon fry up bacon and eggs.
He looks so content, just gazing at Simon, that unexpected smile on his face.
They both look brighter this morning.
I can’t help myself. I come up behind Baz and throw my arms around his neck, resting my chin on his shoulder. I can smell the cedar and bergamot, feel the chill of his skin. He tenses for just an instant and then lets himself lean back into me.
Simon’s staring at us, eyes wide, spatula in midair as he blinks in surprise.
“What’re you doing, Pen?”
“Giving Baz a morning hug.”
“Since when do you hug Baz?” I can hear the bacon sizzling. It’s going to be burnt to a crisp if he doesn’t attend to it soon.
“Since I decided I can manage one more friend.” I close my eyes and pull Baz close. “I’m making an exception for you, Pitch.”
He huffs at me. “I am exceptional, Bunce. It’s taken you long enough to notice.”
Simon snorts as I open my eyes and step away to take the empty seat next to Baz. “Don’t burn breakfast again, Simon, please.”
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lurafita · 5 years
Text
SIM Tony x Peter, part two
I’ll warn you all upfront, I haven’t gotten any better at writing smut, and this chapter has zero. Actually, this chapter doesn’t even have Peter in it. It’s just a lot of introspection into Tony’s character and how I envision he could slowly slip into SIM-mode. You will likely find this pretty boring.
If you are still willing to read, however, THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!
Read the first part here: part 1
SIM Tony x Peter, part 2
He had drunken himself into a stupor after Peter had left first the living room, and then the tower.
Alcohol had always been one of his vices, and admittedly not the greatest coping mechanism. However, no matter how truly stupid, and sometimes even abhorrent, he behaved under its influence, the morning after often brought with it a new insight and understanding for his problems.
As well as a headache. Jesus!
“Jarvis, hangover protocol.” He rasped at the ceiling.
The A.I. complied immediately with the demand, lowering the shutters on every window to dim the natural light in the penthouse, and started the coffee maker in the kitchen.
“You should find some Tylenol in your bedside drawer, Sir.”
Tony blindly grabbed for the bottle after prying the drawer open, and swallowed two pills dry.
“Should I order you breakfast, or would you prefer to further endanger your health by ignoring your basic bodily needs, as usual?”
The billionaire let out a long and tormented groan as he got up from his bed (for which he mentally patted himself on the back. It wasn't often that his intoxicated mind managed to get his drunk ass into an actual bed, before he passed out)
“Remind me to program the sass out of you later, J.”
He wouldn't
“Certainly, Sir.”
Tony slowly made his way across the room, already able to smell the godly brew that was coffee.
“And that's a no for breakfast. But remind me in a few hours to order something hearty from that one restaurant I like. I'm starting on a new project, and I probably shouldn't 'endanger my health' – as you put it – too much before I get to finish it.”
The coffee was too hot and too strong and exactly what the genius needed right then.
“A new project, Sir? Does this have anything to do with Mr. Parker's visit and subsequent departure yesterday? I should caution you on making any rash decisions. Research shows that people are very susceptible to such upon experiencing rejection.”
Tony winced at that, but blamed it on the temperature of the coffee.
“Okay, J, one: we are not calling it a rejection. Peter loves me, he is just too worried that something might happen to me, if we started a relationship. That's not rejection; that's fear. Two: while this may seem rash, my new project is possibly one of the sanest, safest, and best decisions I have made in my life.”
Which Tony actually believed to be true.
No matter how much he wanted to be angry at Peter for the younger man's unwillingness to take that step with Tony, he couldn't.
Peter's rejection (god how he hated that word) might have been a fear based response, but it wasn't a groundless one. Everything Peter had said last night was the truth.
His enemies were deranged and obsessed with making Spiderman suffer.
Tony was vulnerable without the suit, and there had been instances when his technology had either malfunctioned due to outside tampering, or he himself hadn't been aware of any danger or not fast enough to activate his suit.
The losses Peter had suffered due to his superhero alter ego, had left the younger man scarred and traumatized, and Tony could hardly fault him for that.
Arriving in her personal lab (a space he usually loved to share with Peter, but after the events of yesterday evening, the brunette would probably avoid the lab – and the tower as a whole – for a while) Tony had narrowed down three major obstacles that stood in the way of him and his love.
The first was his suit.
Peter was right. Technology wasn't infallible, and Iron Man was due for an upgrade anyway. For years now, Tony Stark had spearheaded any advancements there were in the field of engineering. It was time to take the next step.
A press of a button and a command typed into his holographic interface, brought up the specs of all of his suits. From the clunky and uncomfortable Mark 1, to the sleek nano-technology Mark 75.
The second problem, was the fragility of his human body.
There would be no point in creating the perfect Iron Man suit, if he fell victim to things like illness, infection, or senility. The age difference between him and Peter was another sore spot. Meeting and falling for the Spiderling when Tony had already been in his late 40's was bad luck, because it would leave them with that much less time to spend with each other. Bruce and Peter, both sharing an interest in the sciences dealing with biology, cross species dynamics and mutations, had figured out that the spider bite that had given Peter his powers, had also slowed down the rate of cell decay in his body. They had estimated that the brunette would likely live way past a hundred years. Which meant that he deserved far more than the maybe 30 to 40 years that Tony still had in him. If Tony wanted to be with his Baby Boy for as long as possible, the too short human lifespan was a hurdle that needed to be overcome.
More tapping on the holographic keyboard opened up all the files he had on the Extremis virus. The genius had isolated the cause of it's recipients exploding two years ago, and fixed it. The only reason he hadn't utilized the new and improved Extremis sooner, was that it was one of those 'too powerful for humanity' things, that morally uptight people like Rogers would frown upon. Also, he hadn't felt that he needed it, placing far more trust and value into his suits. Just goes to show, doesn't it? Even Tony Stark was wrong sometimes.
The third major stepping stone were Spiderman's villains.
This was both the easiest and hardest to fix. The easiest way (and quite frankly the one Tony himself would prefer) was to kill them. Again, Peter was right. It didn't matter how many times the spider-themed hero beat them and handed them over into Shield custody, they always found a way out of their imprisonment. And as soon as they did, their main goal was to make Peter pay.
However, Tony also understood why Peter could never bring himself (or allow anyone else) to eliminate them for good.
Harry had been his best friend since childhood, Conners and Octavius had been mentors, and Eddie Brock had been a pseudo older brother. And even disregarding the personal feelings and history that bound Peter to each man, non of them were technically evil.
Harry had been a terminally ill teenager, hoping to escape his father's fate. The serum he had thought would cure him, had molded and messed up his body and mind, akin to someone who had been drugged or brainwashed.
Conners and Octavius had been decent, even honorable, men, who had sought to use their intelligence and research to help people in need. It had backfired and, as with Harry, twisted their minds, and in Conners case, mutated his body.
Brock had simply been unfortunate to be so compatible with the symbiote that Spiderman had managed to resist and fight off. Being bonded to Venom so thoroughly had changed the man.
The fact that each of the four knew who Spiderman was underneath the mask, but had never shared that information with anyone else, had manifested the believe in Peter that somewhere, deep down, their original, good, selves were still alive. That there was still hope for reversing the transformations, restoring them to the men they used to be.
And while Tony thought it naive, he also understood. After all, it was this penchant to hope where others would have long given up, this forgiveness and purity, that had attracted him to Peter in the first place, when they had just gotten to know each other years ago.
So, no. Tony could never make Peter change his stance on his 'No killing' policy, and he didn't want to.
But neither did he want for his love to keep being haunted by the people who had, if anyone were to ask Tony, lost their right to a second chance long, long ago.
Which meant that Tony would just have to deal with them himself.
More holograms popped up, this time displaying all the information that had been gathered on Doctor Octopus, the Lizard, Green Goblin and Venom. Tony zoomed in on the black alien parasite.
And he knew just where to start.
_______________________________________
I thank you all very much for reading and hope you have a wonderful day. Remeber to drink enough water and give yourself frequent breaks if you start getting stressed. Be fair to yourself and treat yourself with kindness, as you deserve no less. Find at least one thing to truly smile about today (and every other day). Also, never be too hard on yourself should you fail at something. Nobody is perfect, and it is often through defeat, that we learn how to overcome many of life’s difficulties.
Tagging: I simply always tag anyone who commented on the last chapter, if you don’t want to be tagged, drop me a quick message, please.
@sassy-starker @momobaby227 @retroxvailles @grimalkinmessor @bbalienbae @deliciousflapbanditfarm @starkersenses @kirakishou @von--gelmini @kaddiisarat
Kaddiisarat for some reason didn’t work? I’m really sorry honey, I tried!
Please tell me if I forgot anyone!
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icosmohunters · 4 years
Text
chapter nine : benignity
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chapter nine of cosmo hunters!
word count : 4.4k words
synopsis : quinn was hurt during the hunt for the master of puppets, and the puppeteer remained untouched after hope chose to retreat. in the midst of the boy’s recovery, hope finds herself opening up to the others. 
it was a catastrophe, bringing the boy into the ship without bringing him incredible pain. the way the others hovered over him and rushed him around, running about for cloths and freezing cold water and bandages and needles and threads. hope had to stand back because it wasn’t her place to intrude.
they had put quinn on one of the spare bottom bunks, and all hope could see from the window over enzo’s broad back was dawn’s head moving at times and the sweet sound of her voice which would often be interrupted by the pained cries from the injured boy.
she couldn’t watch, nor listen.
blinking slightly, she moved away from the door and like a ghost, carried herself to her room. perhaps if she fell asleep, if she awoke the next morning, this nightmare would be over. a self-inflicted nightmare, one which she had caused due to her very aloof plan of taking down a cybercriminal for good. and someone had gotten hurt because of her actions. because of her recklessness.
sometimes she viewed moments like these as pure karma. was this the universe’s payback for her unnecessary rudeness? for her snappy attitude? for her unkind approach to things? for her coldness? did she deserve this for whatever reason?
resting her hand on the wall, hope blinked a couple more times and then viewed her red hand where the blood was drying. before she could dry heave, she rushed to the bathroom and in a frenzy, hurried to wash it off, wanting to rid it from her skin, the imprint of her foolishness. hope then splashed her face and smacked her cheeks before groaning.
“ you didn’t stab him. you weren’t the one who told him to get hurt. so why are you the one taking all the blame? ”, the bounty hunter was scolding herself, her mother wasn’t there to do the job. looking at herself in the mirror, her plain face soon contorted into a growing grimace. she whimpered and ran to dry her hands and her face.
exiting the bathroom, hope paused for a moment and frowned more. her chance to get the puppeteer was gone because she put a group of innocent people in danger. they weren’t saints but they didn’t deserve to be hurt by something that was meant for her. why did she even agree to take them? she knew something was going to go bad, she felt it.
and now here they were, struggling to remain calm after their mechanic was struck by one of the androids. hope didn’t even have the energy to seethe with rage at the man who inflicted the harm towards them. maybe when she grounds herself, she’ll be able to actually feel . . . something.
“ hope! ”.
the girl let out a yelp and smacked a hand over her mouth before looking at who stood before her. enzo. looking concerned, hands behind his back. she saw this as the first time he’s ever seen her in this sort of state and she wanted it to be the last time, she couldn’t afford to lose it. not now. not when they needed to feel secure or sane.
she felt her food begin to rise and focused on not doing so, focusing on better well-being that might be brought if she attempts to sleep. gulping, she removed her hand from her mouth and upon adjusting her posture, let out a small sigh. “ sorry, i was a bit dazed, that’s all ”, she replied. and then looked in the directions of the rooms. “ is he going to be alright? ”.
“ hope, you’re shakin— ”.
“  —n-nevermind me! quinn, how is he? is he stable? does he need a blood transfusion? what about his internal conditions, is anything bleeding from the inside? i can ask a.j to do a sca— ”.
“ hope! ”.
“ oh for god’s sake, enzo, tell me! i wouldn’t give a fuck if i was at the verge of dying right now, my worries are on quinn and whether i’m going to have to fly a dead kid through space to burry him somewhere! ”.
hope had grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and squeezed it into her fists, ready to practically headbutt him to get him into the right frame of mind. or maybe to fix her very own, which seemed to have gone haywire, melting in the worry and the guilt of the entire situation, she hadn’t even gathered the courage to lift nebula off.
releasing her grip from his shirt, hope let out a shaky exhale and covered her face behind her trembling hands. “ s-sorry . . . ”, she muttered, shaking her head. she was losing it, absolutely losing it for no reason. she knew quinn was going to be okay, especially at the hands of an expert like dawn. but in the case that he wasn’t doing well, the captain felt like it was her right to know. “ god, i’m sorry. ”
“ it’s alright, all of this is messing with all of us ”, enzo reassured her and then crossed his arms across his chest. “ but really, hope, if you think any of this is your fault, you’re mistaken. if anything . . . it was my fault for agreeing to come. we should have stayed. but then the thought of you handling it all by yourself, you wouldn’t have made it. ”
she hated to admit it but he was right. she’d seen those androids, they looked hellish, like things manufactured in the deepest pit of the underworld, murderous and cold. they would have reduced her to dust in an instant.
the girl ran a hand through her hair, “ so, it’s kind of both our fault’s. we should have come better prepared, with better ammunition and maps and more people. people from voyage. god, i don’t know how i’ll ever get my hands on him again. after this, he’s shifting, he’s not going to the same place. ” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “ i lost him completely. ”
“ to be fair, it was too ambitious of voyage to throw you into a mission like that. one person could have easily died in there, they need an entire team ”, enzo spoke and frowned. “ i know you like to be independent, hope, but you wouldn’t have lasted a second in there by yourself. ”
“ i wouldn’t be able to handle fighting one of those things again. ”
“ what things? ”.
“ nothing. ”
enzo recommended for her to get some rest as best as she could. as if that was going to be easy, the horrors she’d seen today would come back to haunt her in the deepest parts of her dreams. perhaps she would dream of that pale picture that stared at her once in a dream, waiting, twitching, eager for her to step forward so it could lunge.
wandering into her room, hope grabbed her bathing equipment as she needed to wash up properly before thinking about going to bed. sometimes you forget things because you’re so exhausted. towel and soaps in hand, she wandered off.
the first thing she noticed after she started to fill the bath up whilst undressing is that her ankles looked like they had been bashed to pieces. it was probably from when she tripped up the juggernaut, forgetting he was made of metal and her legs were made of innocent calcium. not even dense muscles like hers would be able to survive without an injury.
her right ankle belonging to her dominant leg was pretty much wrapped in bruises, it was purpling. she could cry at the sight of it. it was horrendous, an enormous patch of purple on the surface of her skin and she didn’t even think to touch it, she just added drops of eucalyptus oil in the bath and hoped for the best.
bathing for around twenty minutes hope found her eyes closing spontaneously at times, hinting her exhaustion that had risen to a hundred ever since she properly relaxed. the smell of the eucalyptus oil was possibly the best aroma in the world aside from that of her mother’s food, it relaxed her body and her mind. but the images of today wouldn’t stop flashing in her mind.
and she tried to put them to sleep. she got changed after drying herself and searched for her sleeping pills and took them with a glass of water on the side of the bed. clapping her hands, the lights soon switched off and she tossed to her left side, the most comfortable side to sleep in. 
and then she waited, waited for sleep to take notice of her and take her away into a land of dreams, sweeter dreams compared to the ones she’s been having. her eyes were heavy but her body just wouldn’t relax. and every time she closed her eyes, she gets that sensation.
that someone is watching her, closely observing through some sort of entry, through some sort of gap through the space-time continuum. it was the feeling that lingered from having to deal with the puppeteer, the great, psychotic puppeteer.
the vision of his eyes came to mind and hope snapped her own eyes open and turned her bedside lamp on before gulping. she couldn’t sleep. even though she felt like she was going to faint, it was impossible for her muscles to relax. or her mind. nothing was relaxing. she was beyond perturbed. 
yet she didn’t want to stay awake. she needed to sleep. she needed rest, a.j wouldn’t let her lift off the nebula in the morning. realizing she was still on mars, hope got out from beneath her bedsheets and approached her window. looking out into the martian night sky. she sighed softly.
it looked too much like home. in fact, she just felt the homesickness growing painfully intense by looking at a sky littered with stars. it wasn’t earth, but among those stars, home could be spotted. home. 
“ a.j, what day is it on earth today? ”.
“ april tenth. ”
hope frowned. in two days' time, her home would be littered by color and lush, a new beginning to the seasons and a new beginning to life in general, inviting the bloom of flowers and the gathering of friends and family to celebrate rebirth. she wasn’t religious, but easter was somehow one of her favorite holidays.
“ would you like to send a message to your parents, captain? ensuring your safety? ”, a.j questioned once more.
hope looked out into the stars and then hummed, “ no. leave it. i’ll pay them a visit eventually. ”
time skip  ﹏
staying awake, it was difficult. but it wasn’t as if she would be able to sleep anyway, not with a million thoughts being fired in her brain. her head was consumed by all sorts of worries and perceptions, some that may be seen as worrisome but hope didn’t really share them with anyone. she felt that if she closed her eyes, she would see something. 
and this thing would keep her awake for hours at an end. there was a perfectly dark night sky out there, a sense of familiarity rather than floating through endless space with no awareness of time. she didn’t take advantage of it, though.
mars had a twenty-five-hour cycle, and currently it was three in the morning. the captain was in the lounge, nursing her nerves with a can of energy drink that she had stocked up on after a brief visit to a grocery store. she had spoken to enzo roughly five hours ago, and since then hope hasn’t seen or heard from everyone.
at this point, she was assuming the worst. the kid died, she was tempted to believe. nobody cared to drop in to tell her of anything, maybe he was still healing or was struggling to sleep like her and so they were trying to soothe him into a state of painless peace.
the doors slid open and hope’s tired eyes moved towards the figure that came in. it was dom, he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink either, still in the clothes from the mission and with a grave expression on his face. when he took notice of her, hope prepared to be yelled at.
to be blamed, to receive a good scolding. but nothing ever came. he just stared at her for a moment and then averted his gaze away. “ is he alright? ”, she questioned. “ the kid. is he okay? ”.
“ stable ”, dom replied and hope let out a sigh of relief, bracing herself for a but. it never came, though, as dom went over and got himself something from the vending machine. “ what flavor of energy drink do you choose? ”.
hope blinked but replied, “ cherry. ”
dom hummed and then tapped away at the screen on the vending machine. it was silent for a moment, hope had grown used to speaking to the rest but she never did the same with dominic, not after what happened between them just after they came out of the j-colony. his bruise looked slightly better but it was nowhere near healed.
“ he’s healing okay ”, he said to break the silence. “ the cut didn’t reach any vital organs but it was somewhat deep. a.j had a look, which was quite useful. but quinn’s healing slowly now, vivi’s watching after him in case he wakes up in pain. ”
“ i’m sorry. ”
“ don’t be. ”
for that and also for the bruise, hope wanted to say but was unable to.
dom walked near to the couch and hope saw the same cherry drink she was holding in her hands. popping the can open, dom took a sip and appeared puzzled for a second before grimacing. “ that’s strong ”, he managed to say with another shudder.
hope chuckled softly and looked to the doors when they slid open once more. enzo walked on through, it seemed as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep either but he at least had gotten changed. “ nice seeing you two getting along ”, he commented with a tired grin. “ why are you awake, cap? ”.
“ got a late-night craving. my sleeping pills didn’t work, so there’s no point in staying awake. besides, i was worried about quinn ”, she stated as the young man approached. “ is there enough medication for him? ”.
dom snorted, “ more than enough. ”
“ you could heal an entire army with what you’ve got stored in there, cap ”, enzo added before stopping by her and offering a small smile. “ quinn will be alright, he just needs plenty of rest and good food. i was in the kitchen, i saw some bags on the counter. did you go shopping? ”.
oh. hope blushed softly and looked down. she’s never been one to blush, at all. she was slightly embarrassed to have been found out, she was going to put the food back into the fridge but then completely zoned out and forgot. 
“ yeah, i did ”, hope revealed. 
enzo gasped and clapped happily, “ vivi is gonna whip us something good tomorrow then and i cannot wait for that. you should see the soup she makes when one of us is sick. ”
it was refreshing to see them back to their normal antics, it was better to see them all smiling, though, it brought a sense of safety. that she didn’t have to worry about all that’s happened and that all would be well within a given time. sure, she had missed the chance of killing the puppeteer.
but it was suspicious why voyage had even given her a task like that, especially one for her to complete alone. if he was on top of the list, they would’ve most likely offered her some sort of help. they didn’t, they forced her to do it by herself with the impression that she wouldn’t pass the task on, and she didn’t.
and now someone had gotten hurt. whilst she wanted to take the blame, the pirates didn’t allow her to. dom and enzo settled on the couch to watch something or play a video game, hope wasn’t paying too much attention to be sure.
because she soon lifted herself from the couch and left the lounge, her attention dragging towards the door of the rooms they were allocated in. she wasn’t too certain if dawn and quinn were awake, but she knew vivienne was, so it was worth going in to check. she could see with her very own eyes just what had been done to heal the boy.
once the doors slid open, hope looked into the room for the first time in a while. they hadn’t made a total mess of it, most of it was clean except for some bags by the window which hope assumed were clothes of some sort. or comfort items. 
craning her head to the side, her eyes widened at the sight. quinn was laying down on the bottom bunk of one of the spare beds, a blanket over his body. his chest rose and fell gently and some color had returned to his face. seeing movement on the top bunk, hope saw it was dawn, fast asleep.
vivienne had put a chair right beside where quinn laid, she had a reading light on and a book open against her lap. she was wearing some pleasant grey pajamas that looked rather comfortable. and it suited her a lot. upon taking notice of the other girl, she smiled softly. “ you’re still up ”, she noticed.
“ so are you ”, hope replied and approached her. she briefly crouched down beside the bed to get a better look at the sleeping boy. it was a weird habit of hers, something she had developed back home. always waking up early and immediately checking if her brother was still sleeping and if he was feeling okay. even now, it didn’t feel that different. “ poor kid . . . i feel awful for what happened. ”
vivienne reached over and brushed the hair out of quinn’s eyes, “ he was in pain but he never once spoke about it being anyone else’s fault. he just fell asleep a couple of hours ago after dawn gave him some morphine. ” hope’s eyes widened. “ i didn’t know morphine was even legal to have outside of a hospital. ”
“ yeah, well i needed it once a long while back ”, the girl described. she didn’t linger on the subject for too long and chose to sit on the edge of the bed rather than crouching and cause more pain to her ankles. “ he’s going to be fine, though. he just didn’t deserve getting hurt. ”
“ wait, did you deserve it instead? ”, vivienne questioned, turning back to her book with a chuckle.
“ yes ”. vivienne’s smile dropped. “ i would have rather gotten hurt than allowed someone else to take the hit. i should have stayed with you guys but . . . i don’t regret it. the puppeteer came into contact with me. he knows my name, my reputation, he knew i was nothing against him alone. but he knew there were people . . . people under my responsibility. ”
“ you think he commanded the attack ”, vivienne assumed.
hope nodded, “ it’s probable. he knows his own bunker, surely. it was easy for him to know we came in, we just weren’t careful enough. and it’s not enough to just shoot at the security cameras. he has eyes scattered everywhere. ”
she thought that he knew they were there even when they were above, on the surface of mars hunting for the ravine. those abandoned apartments, he could have easily stored something within them, something so high-tech that not even hope’s rogue sonar picked up anything. nothing at all.
but he knew that they were coming and when they were coming, it was how he worked. eyes everywhere, so everywhere that you couldn’t even begin to think where the first eye was. he was vulture flying above, waiting, watching as the prey draws closer before striking.
hope shivered slightly and shifted her position, trying not to think too much about the incident. it would make voyage angry but she had already dropped a word in, sending a distress signal as someone had gotten hurt during the mission and to pass the quest onto a team, not a single bounty hunter.
as strong as she was, she wouldn’t have lasted a second in there had she gone alone.
“ it’s going to be easter in two days back home ”, vivienne said suddenly, and hope was glad that she did. it was nice to talk about home sometimes. she relaxed slightly and nodded. “ do you celebrate it? ”.
hope chuckled, “ yeah, my family does. we’re not religious, we’re just easily influenced by others. but my mom usually puts chocolate eggs around the house and we all try and find it. usually, when he’s there, dad holds a nice barbeque for the neighbors. ”
“ no exterior family? ”.
“ nope, we keep to ourselves. besides, the exterior family is across the country. most are in canada, they like the cold for some reason ”, hope explained and looked towards quinn, fixing his blanket over him. “ i’d like to go there someday. ”
“ home? ”.
“ canada. ”
the two girls shared a gentle laugh, soft as to avoid waking the others up. it was nice, hope had to say. admitting it was hard but she liked the company, it made a difference. she knew that she was arrogant in the beginning, believing that she was fine on her own but sometimes having someone around makes a difference, especially for someone engulfed in solitude like this particular bounty hunter.
“ if you . . . want to go, to see your family, i could definitely tell the others we’re making a stop first ”, vivienne proposed slowly, trying to find the right words. “ i can’t remember the last time we’ve all been to earth. ” 
hope smiled. smiled. the pure selflessness had led to a sudden swarm of butterflies in her chest, it was very flattering to see the woman being so caring, she’s never quite seen anything like it. and it invoked a reaction that not even hope was used to. but the smile stayed for some reason, she didn’t try to wipe it away.
running a hand through her hair, the girl nodded. “ yeah, y-yeah that’d be nice. dad went through a lot a while back and i haven’t exactly been the best daughter, haven’t visited him. it’s cool between us but . . . i can imagine it looks bad ”, she explained softly, staring at her fingers. “ it’s nearly been a year since i’ve been home. ”
“ you must miss your family terribly ”, vivienne pointed out and tilted her head. she seemed to have forgotten about her book. “ is it just your parents and you? ”.
hope shook her head, “ it’s me, mom, dad and connor. ”
“ who’s connor? family dog? ”.
hope snorted and suppressed the urge to burst into total laughter. she slapped her knee slightly and adjusted herself on the seat, her smile didn’t fade, though. her eyes lit up at the mention of her brother. her tone even changed as she tilted her head and answered, “ my baby brother. ”
vivienne gasped softly, “ oh god, i’m sorry, i didn’t know. ”
“ no, it’s quite alright. he’s quite puppy-like, anyhow ”, the girl replied, her smile still completely intact. she appeared starstruck, but that gaze she had, that aloof expression of happiness, that was love. absolute love for a younger brother who she would die for. 
vivienne beamed herself, though it seemed to at something else. “ well, i can imagine you’d be very happy to see your family. we can go to earth, maybe it’ll cheer quinn up. besides, easter is a great holiday to go back home to ”, she suggested, looking back towards the sleeping boy. 
“ yeah, i suppose we can all go ”, hope said softly and nodded, and then looked towards her wristband. “ but . . . i have to take you guys to where you have to be. maybe you can get better help there. ”
vivienne frowned, “ do you want us gone that badly? ”.
hope was rendered speechless. she didn’t want it to seem like she had wanted to get rid of them or move them off her ship. it was just that quinn could find better help, better medication and better food somewhere where there was actually something to offer. hope had nothing to offer to them at all!
but she also really wanted for them to stay until he’d healed. and perhaps a stop by earth could do the trick. but hope wasn’t too certain about it until she looked at vivienne. she didn’t want them gone.
not now.
and perhaps, not for a while . . . maybe until all of this was over. until quinn was healed and until easter had gone by. she needed time to ensure that they would be leaving safely without voyage trailing behind them, on the hunt.
“ w-well, not really ”.
vivienne’s expression softened and she averted her gaze back to her book. “ then it’s settled. you can take us, i’ll tell the others in the morning. try to get some sleep, though, cap ”, the woman said and hope paused, she’s never been referred to as captain by vivienne.
nodding either way, the bounty hunter rose from her seat and wrapped her arms over her chest and walked towards the door, looking back for a moment. viviennne seemed to be happily enjoying her book, but she was smiling, even if it was ever so slightly gentle.
“ good night ”, she called back softly.
vivienne looked up and chuckled, “ good night, captain. and thank you. ”
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thinkingimmensely · 5 years
Text
Okay. III
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4
A/N: It’s been a year or two already (I think I’m not really sure) since I last posted and man, this has been sitting in my drafts for forever. But I’m glad I was able to finish this chapter and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. 
This is a long one and I was about to cut it in half but decided not to. I hope that’s all right! 
BTW if you want to be on my taglist for this story or part of the permanent, don’t hesitate to send me a dm, an ask, or just comment here~ :)
MATERLIST
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!
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It was easy. Finding a house was easy, getting a job was easy. With your title as an ex-Auror, Madam Rosmerta didn't think twice about hiring you, especially since there were Dementors stationed around the village. She thought that with an ex-Auror around, customers would most likely feel safer. The pay was small but you didn't care about that, you had enough to get you by; besides, Sirius was chipping in as well.
Classes started a month ago at Hogwarts and you knew this was the year Harry could come to Hogsmeade. You tried to calm your excitement down and remind yourself that he may not be as thrilled to meet a godmother he never heard about until now.  
You almost forgot that the faculty loved visiting Hogsmeade as much as the students; so, when the head of houses came trotting in, you almost dropped the tray you were carrying, along with the numerous empty glasses on it. McGonagall's usually stern eyes widened in surprise as well and she rushed over to you like a mother who finally found her long-lost daughter.  
"Y/N Y/L/N!" She exclaimed so uncharacteristically even Professor Sprout raised a brow in mild surprise. "How are you? You've been gone from the earth for who knows how long. Since when have you been back?"
You placed the tray on the counter and whisked it away with your wand so the glasses washed themselves on the sink then turned back to your old mentor. "I've been getting by somehow." You cheekily replied. "I've just been back actually. How's Hogwarts?"
"Oh, absolutely dreadful, dear. The Dementors are sucking the life out of the school." Professor Sprout answered. "If it only weren't for Sirius Black-" She was about to continue but Professor McGonagall shot her a sharp look which made her backtrack on her words immediately. "Ah-yes- I almost forgot. He was your friend. I'm sorry dear."  
You let out a sad smile, "Yes... well, people change, don't they?"  
Professor McGonagall sympathetically placed a hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, you should visit the castle sometimes. Harry- I'm sure Harry Potter would love to meet his godmother. Professor Lupin may want to see you again as well."
You frowned at the mention of his name and you turned away from McGonagall. "I'll um... I'll think about it." You replied awkwardly, "Now please excuse me, but I have to go back to work." You made sure to stay clear of your old professors' presence for the rest of their visit. It's not that you hated them, but you didn't want blasts from the past to hit you.  
The door soon opened and a huge, black dog came trotting in. "Ah, always on time that one." Madam Rosmerta chimed as she came out of the bathroom. "You can go once you finish cleaning up Y/N, can't keep the lovely canine waiting now." She beamed as she went to pat the dog fondly on the head. "You're a good boy now aren't ya Mr. Snuffles?" She cooed.
You held your laughter in as you watched Sirius wag his furry tail and he shot you a glare momentarily. You cleared your throat and went to wash the remaining mugs. You were done in a matter of minutes and bid Madam Rosmerta goodbye as you and Sirius exited the shop. The both of you walked the already empty street of the village and you could feel the cold etching on. Sirius nuzzled your hand in comfort and you flashed him a thankful smile. Auror or not, Dementors still creeped the hell out of you.
You soon arrived at the doorstep of your small house at the edge of the village. It only had one bedroom and bathroom, and the kitchen was connected to the living room but it was livable and that was all that mattered. You closed the door behind you and closed the blinds of the windows and turned the lights on. When you turned, Sirius was already sitting by the fireplace on the rug.  
"What do you want for dinner?" You asked and he just shrugged his shoulders. You sighed and went to the kitchen and searched for something to cook. "You know," you started, "I saw Professor McGonagall today." This seemed to catch his attention because he turned to you. "She said I should visit the castle sometimes, see how Harry is doing, and maybe have the courage to finally meet him."  You rambled, "Oh and guess what? Remus is a professor now."  
You had Sirius' full attention now and he was making his way towards you.  
"Dumbledore offered me a job months ago, for the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I'm glad I refused because it seems that Remus was the second choice." You took out the board and placed it on the counter. You tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and whisked your wand towards the spices and levitated it towards the board. You enchanted the knife to cut them and you got some chicken off the freezer.  
Sirius began setting the table, silently listening to you. "McGonagall even told me that Remus might want to see me again. I bet he'd be absolutely thrilled." You sarcastically announced and turned to your friend who was watching you. "You're awfully quiet." You noted.
Sirius raised a brow at you and flashed you his usual playful smirk. "I love listening to you talk of course.” He smirked, “Besides, I might finally learn what happened to the both of you if I keep listening."  
You shrugged your shoulders and casted a heating spell on the chicken to quickly defrost it. "Well in summary, he left me." You simply said. Sirius looked at you as if you had just grown another head.  
"What? I'm confused. Remus was in love with you!"  
You frowned at him. "Well I guess love wasn’t enough to make him stay." You countered. "But it's not entirely his fault anyway, I was probably a handful." You busied yourself with cooking to not let your emotions get the better of you. "I mean, he's had enough on his plate from the start- and just to add me to it; he probably couldn't handle it y'know?"
Sirius shook his head fervently, "No, no, no, no, that couldn't be it, that sounds nothing like him. Y/N, Remus loved you; he- he was planning to propose to you when the war ended!" He held you by the shoulders and looked at you straight in the eyes.
You turned away from Sirius, mainly so he couldn't see the tears that was starting to form in your eyes. You promised yourself you wouldn't cry for him anymore, and so far, you've been able to keep that promise. But knowing that he was going to propose stabbed something deep inside of you. A longing that no one else could replace; regret that maybe you should've done more to keep him. You shouldn't have let him walked out that door that night ten years ago.  "People change Sirius, you of all should know that by now." Steeling your resolve, you turned your back to him to drop the conversation.
Sirius scratched the back of his head then threw his arms up in surrender then stalked off towards the living room. He must’ve had a million questions but you didn’t have the all the answers.  
Dinner was soon served and the both of you ate in silence. Your earlier conversation still played in your heads like a broken record player. Sirius was still mulling over on how Remus could have ever willingly leave you, and you on the other hand, still couldn’t get over the fact that your ex was going to propose. Had things only turned out differently you’d probably have an 11-year-old kid who was probably writing you letters about the horrors of being a first year at Hogwarts, a kid who probably looked up at your 13-year-old godson as a big brother.  
Those thoughts haunted you well into Halloween. Sirius and you apparated to Godric’s Hollow first thing in the morning to visit James’ and Lily’s grave. You brushed off some fallen leaves away and pulled out some weeds as Sirius looked on and whimpered in his Animagus form. You took out your wand and waved it in one swift circle, “Orchideous.” You whispered and a bouquet of flowers conjured itself and you arranged it on the grave.  
After casting a few charms, Sirius turned back into his human form and the both of you ate the lunch you packed. Sirius was awfully quiet and had a weird look in his eye. You reckoned it was just because of visiting your best friends.  
You pulled on your jacket as the wind was starting to pick up. “We should get going.” Sirius mumbled and got to his feet. He held his hand out to you, which you gladly took, and he pulled you up. With a final look at James’ and Lily’s grave, you held Sirius’ hand and Disapparate back to a nearby cave just out of Hogsmeade.  
“Are you sure about tonight, Sirius?” You questioned.  
He gave you a look. “If you have a better plan then I’d like to hear it.” He spat and you furrowed your brows.
“No, I just think- I mean, don’t you think it’s kind of rash to just infiltrate the castle like that?” You backtracked, “Or what if I went instead?”  
Sirius looked at you strangely. Something clouded his stormy gray eyes just as he clenched his jaw tight and his entire body tensed. You instinctively grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, never breaking eye contact. Vengeance pumped in his veins right now but you didn’t want him to do something he might regret later. “Sirius please-” You tried but he shook his head and cupped your face with both of his hands. “It’s better if you’re not dragged into this mess. I can’t let anything happen to you. Or Harry, or even Remus.” His hands were shaking, from anger or worry, you weren’t sure. “I’ll deal with Pettigrew tonight. I’ll see you afterwards.” He dropped his hands to his sides while you swallowed a hard lump and tried to steady your emotions.  
When you got back to Hogsmeade, Sirius and you parted ways. You took the day off from the Three Broomsticks but now you just wanted to go to work to take your mind off the forthcoming event that would no doubt transpire later that evening. You walked through the streets and entered Honeydukes, the warm smell of every sweet you could ever find radiating off the entire building. “What do you think Harry likes?” A girl with brown, bushy hair asked a tall boy with flaming orange hair. Hair that reminded you terribly of the Fabian and Gideon Prewett. They were good people and better friends and were part of the Order. But by the end of the war, they were killed by five Death Eaters. Your heart sped up at the mention of your godson’s name but what if they weren’t talking Harry Potter? Harry was such a common name there was bound to be at least five Harrys at Hogwarts right now.
“Oh what about this- chocolate cauldrons.” The ginger answered and reached up the shelf to get the said sweet.
“We can get him chocolate wands too! I bet he’ll like those.” The girl chirped. Mrs. Flume, the owner’s wife, approached them and offered them samples of new fudge, they happily accepted. “Harry’s going to be thrilled! I wish we could get him more though.”
You bit your lower lip nervously and decided to approach them. “Hi, I couldn’t help but overhear.” You started and the two kids looked at you in confusion and suspicion. “I wanted to help. Here,” you fished some coins out of your pocket and handed it to them. “Use this to buy your friend more chocolate.” You smiled at them.
They gaped at you wordlessly. “I-we couldn’t- I mean-” The girl stammered and you shook your head to stop her from trying to return your money.
“I had a friend who couldn’t come to Hogsmeade that much before either...” You trailed off, “We used to buy him all the chocolate we could afford. You two remind me of that time.” You sniffed and offered them one last smile before you turned away and grabbed some chocolate bars and went to the counter to pay. Before you left, the two students thanked you profusely. If they really were your Harry’s friends, then this was the least you could do for him right now.  
You were sat at the kitchen of the small house, a teaspoon absently stirring on a cup of tea that had long gone cold. It was nearly sunset which means that the Halloween feast will start soon and Sirius will execute his plan- a plan he hadn’t bothered to tell you. For your own safety, he insisted when you kept on asking. A tap on the window by the sink brought you out of your thoughts, you turned to see a brown barn owl perched by the windowsill. You flicked your wand and the window opened, allowing the owl to fly inside and land on the table gracefully. You unlatched the letter on its foot and broke the seal to unroll the piece of parchment. A deep sigh escaped your lips and you gave the owl some treats as payment. You pocketed the parchment and went to grab your coat.  
Dumbledore invited you to the Halloween feast. You couldn’t remember people outside of Hogwarts being invited to the feast before, but the Headmaster did what he did you guessed. Besides, if you were inside the castle, you might be of some help to Sirius. You might also catch a glimpse of your godson. What you dreaded though, was seeing Remus again. Though you wondered how he’s been doing, you were far from ready to share a conversation if that would ever happen; you hoped to Merlin Dumbledore wouldn’t make you seat beside him. Hell, you’d take sitting beside Snape than Remus in these circumstances.  
You arrived at the gates of the castle not long after and Mr. Filch let you inside, though he was not happy about it. You entered the Great Hall just before the students started flooding in. It was wonderful, the hall had been decorated with hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. “Miss Y/L/N, we’re happy you could join us.” Dumbledore greeted as you arrived at the front. The others barely even noticed you until Dumbledore started talking.  
“I didn’t think it would be polite to refuse such an invitation.” You answered. “Besides, I missed this.” You gestured towards rest of the Great Hall where students were getting seated on their respected tables. Your turned back to the old wizard to see him smiling at you, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.  
“You may take a seat beside Professor Sprout, Y/N.” He told you and you sighed in relief. Not only was Professor Sprout seated far away from Remus, but she was seated at the other end of the table, much to your delight. You barely spared Remus a glance, even when you could literally feel his presence radiating towards you. Poor man must’ve been so confused. You took your seat and scanned the Gryffindor table, trying to catch the messy mop of black hair of your Godson, but Professor Sprout took your attention away with a conversation.  
The food was delicious like you always remembered. Sometimes you could hear Remus’ voice as he talked animatedly to Professor Flitwick. Hearing his voice again made you feel weird things on your stomach. You blamed the food. He sounded happy though, and that was all you could ever ask for- his happiness.  
The feast ended with entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading. It was a such a pleasant evening that you forgot all about Sirius and what he wanted to do.  
“The dementors send their love, Potter!” You heard a boy shout as the students started to leave the hall. You hadn’t had the chance to see Harry at all. There were just too many students. You ran a hand through your hair in exasperation. You wanted to see him so badly; and what was that about Dementors? Were they causing problems to Harry?
Only a few of the staff remained in the Great Hall as you approached Headmaster, “Thank you for inviting me again Dumbledore, I’m really glad to be able to visit.” The man waved you off stating that it was nothing and stated that Hogwarts will always welcome you home. Before either of you could say anything more, a student came running inside the Hall asking for Dumbledore because of an emergency. The wizard immediately excused himself and followed the student out. You looked at the remaining teachers; Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Remus stood up from their seats and started out as well and you opted to follow them, remembering Sirius and praying that this wasn’t because of him.
The Fat Lady was gone. Her portrait slashed to pieces. You stood behind the teachers and looked around; your heart was beating madly, alarms sounding off your brain. You locked eyes with green orbs and gasped when you realized it was none other than your Godson. He was standing beside the bushy-haired girl and ginger boy from Hogsmeade earlier that day. He was looking at you too, and you could tell he wanted to ask a million questions at once. Lily gave you a lot of that look before.  
You were so emotional at seeing Harry again that you almost missed Dumbledore ask Peeves if the Fat Lady knew who tore her painting.  
“Oh yes, Proffesorhead, he got very angry when she wouldn’t let him in, you see.” The Poltergeist grinned, “Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.”
The Gryffindor students immediately began whispering amongst themselves and Dumbledore sent them back to the Great Hall. They were soon joined by the other houses. You stayed behind by Dumbledore’s request and helped the teachers in searching the castle.  
While going through one of the corridors, someone grabbed you and pinned you against the wall so suddenly you instantly pointed your wand to the person’s chest, about to blast him away. Your breath got caught in your lungs as you realized who it was. “Remus?”  
“Y/N, you didn’t have anything to do with this did you?”
Shock was no doubt written all over your face. First conversation and already he’s assuming the worst in you? “Pardon me?” You asked incredulously.  
“Y/N, tell me the truth, did you help Sirius break in?” His voice firm, his usually warm eyes burning holes into your very soul.
You furrowed your brows and pushed him away. “Of course I didn’t. In case you missed it, I was at the Great Hall the entire time.” Though you really did help Sirius, you didn’t help him break into Hogwarts.  
“Then why are you here exactly?” He asked, one of his hand held his wand like a flashlight while the other rested inside his pocket.
“Dumbledore invited me.” You flatly replied and you could see him roll his eyes and groan tiredly.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Why are you here Y/N? Near Hogwarts, at Hogsmeade, working a job you don’t even like? Do you really think I’d believe it’s just mere coincidence? You suddenly moving at Hogwarts the moment Sirius breaks out of Azkaban?”  
Damn was he good, but you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand on this. Your mind reeling, you thought of an excuse fast. “It’s not a coincidence, no.” You admitted. “I’m just worried about Harry’s safety.” He raised a brow at you but didn’t say anything so you continued, “I heard from old contacts that Sirius may be after Harry, so I wanted to be close by incase anything happened.” Your voice actually wavered and you hoped Remus thought it was because you were getting emotional. “I can’t let anything or anyone harm Harry. Even if it was Sirius.” You held his steady gaze and you knew he believed you then.  
Remus sighed. “Snape no doubt thinks one of us did it. Helped Sirius I mean.”
You shrugged. You never liked Snape but you didn’t have anything against him either. “He probably thinks both of us did.”  
Remus actually let out a small chortle. A smile broke out on your face. “Take care of yourself Y/N.” He said and started to walk away.  
You stared at his back moving away from you. “Hey Rem,” You called out before you could stop yourself, heat rising on your face as he stopped and turned to look at you in question. “It- it was nice to see you again.” He let out a small smile as he nodded and turned back to walk away. Well, you thought, that wasn’t so bad.  
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