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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 13 - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

My dear friend @abimess, I keep stealing your gifs and making updates without telling you. I hope you never get tired of it.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: Magical torture with minors, cursing, angst, ptsd, derogatory thoughts and behavior, dark magic.

Chapter Words: 8.486 K

A/N> Yes, I've gone for a month without warning anyone, and yes that might go on, but at least i'm near ending this (I'm already writing chapter 21). Once I'm finished, I'll just programe tumblr to upload them all for me because i'm lazy. I hope anyone like this yet, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. Good reading!

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 13 - Part XIII - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

Gossip really starts to irritate you when you go to lunch after potions.

"You want to say something to me, girl?" You charge impatiently when you hear the giggles behind you again, coming from a group of students sitting at Ravenclaw's table.

The group turns around with wry smiles on their faces, and you notice the editions of the Daily Prophet in the hand of one of the boys. It is Hope Summers, your classmate, who speaks first:

"We're just sharing some theories, Stark." She says in a provocative tone. "Some of us find it an interesting coincidence that just now that Mephisto is back, you and Maximoff are losing control of magic."

You frown.

"What are you talking about?" you ask in surprise, referring to Wanda, but Hope thinks you want her to keep mocking you.

"It's just suspicious that no one knows what happened to you in that dungeon, or at the ministry of magic." Hope counters. "And now you two are blowing things up, and we have a dark wizard on the loose."

"Fuck you, Summmers." You curse as you stand up, leaving the girl in shock at your aggressiveness.

The same auror from the first day stands in front of you as you try to approach Slytherin's table.

"Students must respect..."

But you interrupted his speech with a loud shove that sent him staggering backwards, and drew the immediate attention of several people.

You were seeing red by now, the man's wry smile only making you more irritated.

He drew his wand, but so did you. And the room held its breath.

"Put your wand away, Miss Stark." Warned the auror angrily, but you didn't.

Wanda stood up as she noticed the confusion, rushing to reach you, but the auror put his arm in her way.

"Now, miss." He warned again, and you grunted in irritation.

"Get your hands off her." You retorted, feeling your body fever with hatred.

"Stark." The man said, his arm reaching down to push Wanda back, and you exploded.

You didn't even finish thinking about the spell, the magic exploding out of your wand.

The auror masterfully blocked it, and you dropped your wand to jump on top of him.

It was a confusion of shoving, other bigger students pulling you away from the man and he away from you.

" Never fucking touch her again!" You warned snorting in anger, Thor Odinson stopping you from jumping on the man's neck.

"I just pushed her away from the line of fire, you crazy bitch!" The auror retorted indignantly and angrily. "Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Fuck you!"

Thor pulled you out of the hall as the crowd of students whistled in celebration, excited about the whole fight. The auror was too busy dissipating everyone to follow you.

"Hey, hothead, calm down." The blonde warned as he released the grip of you by the courtyard. You grunted angrily, wishing you could break something.

"Fuck this school, fuck that asshole." You complained aloud, as Thor looked at you curiously.

"You have quite a rage, Stark." He comments, and you grumble in irritation.

But Wanda catches up with you the next moment, and she looks even angrier than you.

"What the hell was that?" she asks and you roll your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

"I think you are going to be fine for now on." Thor comments, smiling at the thank you Wanda says to him before leaving you two alone.

"So?" Wanda insists, arms crossed. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at her.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort angrily.

"You just started a fight for no reason! Again!" She accuses. "Only this time it was with a wizard who could kill you. I want to know what's going on!"

"I don't know, Wanda!" You exclaim angrily. "Why does everyone expect me to have answers? I don't know! Do you understand that? It feels like I'm going to explode in frustration any second, neither you or Gamora seem to get it. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

"Because you won't talk to us!" She shouts back, just as annoyed as you are. "You're pushing everyone away! Even me! We can't help you if you don't talk to us!"

You grunt impatiently, turning around. There was a strange throbbing in the back of your head, a strange whisper. Like a voice telling you that no one was telling you the truth, that your friends expected too much of you, that Wanda didn't care...

This last thought made you sob. Wanda softened her expression immediately, taking a step toward you and touching your shoulder, but you pulled away from her touch as if burned, wiping your tears away quickly.

"Leave me alone, Wanda." You mutter between teeth. She hesitates, raising her hand toward you again.

"Please."

"I need some time from you." You insist, pushing her hand away, and walking away.

A part of your brain is begging you to go back and make things right, but there is a cloud of anger and irritation that keeps you walking.

//-//-//-//-//

You roll over in bed in discomfort.

Nightmares. Again.

It has only been five days since you had your fight with Wanda, and you are getting worse every day.

With Summers' teasing, you end up noticing other things too.

How the school really found the theory that you and Wanda were somehow related to Mephisto, because the minister had covered up what happened in the dungeons and in the ministry, and everybody thought it was strange that two students were showing an increase in magical potential with the return of a dark wizard.

Unlike you, who were failing considerably in any simple execution of spells, Wanda was demonstrating exceptional abilities. Kaecilius was more than willing to make her the face of progress at Hogwarts, you heard the gossip about bringing in reporters to share the news of the new direction.

You know that the only reason Wanda hasn't come after you yet was because you're running away from her like the plague.

And you couldn't even explain why.

You were also blocking out your real health condition from her. Just like you two practiced during the summer.

Besides hiding this from Wanda, you have kept your friends away too, isolating yourself from everyone else in search of a little rest, only succeeding in taking a nap when you are running away between classes.

And the detentions with Kaecilius keep increasing as you skip classes.

You begin to consider learning to write with a different hand, just so the bruise has time to heal, but at this point you don't even care about the scar anymore.

"You really must like pain." Loki teases wryly as you sit in an empty room, waiting for the aurors' shift change again after your detention.

You don't ask him what he's doing on that floor again, and he doesn't ask why you haven't spoken to your friends in two weeks.

"Sure, that must be it." You joke back, massaging your injured hand.

He assumes a pensive expression for a second.

"Are you sure you haven't been cursed by someone?" He asks, causing you to frown in shock and confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He gives a little chuckle, settling himself better against the wall.

"Everyone's been talking about you being sick." He says. "I heard some of the Ravenclaw people theorize that you became a werewolf over the summer."

You laugh helplessly, massaging your temples lightly.

"I guarantee that's not it." You say making Loki smile.

"If you are sick for no reason, it could be a curse." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised, the way things are."

"But how do I find out if I've been cursed?"

Loki takes a thoughtful stance.

"I don't know." He says. "But I'm sure you can learn that in the no longer reserved session of the library."

You laugh at the joke, but soon you both return to silence. When that hallway's shift ends, Loki sighs, getting up and helping you to stand.

"Still can't perform spells?" He asks, already drawing his wand.

"Only if I want to blow things up." You scoff making him laugh.

"Fine, I'll enchant you." He says. When you are transparent, he looks at you with an amused expression. "See you next Saturday, troublemaker?

"Don't worry, I plan on skipping DADA, maybe I'll be here tomorrow." You retort in the same tone before turning to leave.

//-////-//-//-//-//

It takes three more days for Wanda to finally corner you.

You are skipping class in an empty room on the seventh floor, trying to doze off, and almost fall out of your chair with fright when the door opens and Wanda comes in, looking annoyed.

You grunt impatiently, without lifting your face from the desk.

"I told you I needed time." You complain, but tense up when you notice the tears in her eyes as she moves closer to sit at the table next to yours.

" You want to break up with me?" She asks in a whisper and you raise your head immediately, feeling your chest tighten.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda gives a humorless laugh at your expression. "Why are you acting like this is an absurd idea? You've disappeared. You've been avoiding me, not even talking to me anymore."

You shake your head quickly, feeling the urge to cry.

"I don't want to break up with you." You say. "I..I would never want to be away from you."

"You just said you need time away from me." Wanda retorts with annoyance, and you feel your stomach clench as she sighs. "I don't know what's going on with us. And I miss you, but you won't let me near you."

You are exhausted. So you cry.

You rest your head on your arms, and let your sobs fill the silence, hoping that the tears will take this bad feeling away.

It's Wanda's gentle touch on your back that helps.

"Babe, tell me what's wrong." She whispers to you, her tone concerned.

It takes many minutes for you to calm down. But when you do, Wanda holds your hand, kneeling on the floor beside the chair you are in.

"I can't do magic." You breathlessly tell her from crying, "And I can't sleep. I've been sick for weeks, and I'm angry all the time. Healer Cho doesn't know what's wrong with me, but everyone at school seems to have a theory about it. I think I'm going to suffocate, Wanda. I'm messing everything up. Between us, between my family, and at school." You sob as you finish and Wanda shakes her head, her hand coming up to your cheek.

"Don't say that." She urges. "You didn't ruin anything. Hey, look at me. I love you. Your sisters love you, your friends love you. We'll figure out what's going on."

Wanda hugs you tight, and you sob, shaking.

You want to believe her words, so you push the intrusive thoughts away, and believe it.

//-//-//-//

Wanda takes you to a door in that same floor you two were before, but you have never seen that door until that moment.

And you are very surprised to realize that it is a bedroom.

"How...?" You ask confused as she closes the it.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." She says with a smile, pulling you by the hand around. "We hold our Avengers meetings here." She counters and you frown.

"In a bedroom? Interesting choice." You comment and she giggles.

"No, my love." She says. "That's how this room works. It is charmed to meet your needs. That's why I asked you to come in first."

"Oh, that's pretty cool." You say looking around. Wanda smiles at you, and then you both reach the bed. "The room thinks I have to sleep?"

"I do too." Wanda retorts, pushing your shoulders gently for you to sit on the bed. "Go on, nice dreams."

You hesitate. "You gonna leave me here alone?"

Wanda denies with her head, pointing to the chair that probably just magically appeared next to the bed. You frown.

"Can't you sleep in the bed with me?"

She giggles. "We don't have much time for you to sleep. If I lie down, you'll want to kiss me. So I'll be sitting in that armchair, studying as I should." She explains seriously, and you pout.

"Stupid rules." You grumble moving your hands up to her waist. "Lie down with me."

"Babe..."

"Please."

Wanda sighs, then nods. You smile, quickly removing your shoes as she does the same. You quickly adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms for her to lie on top of you, and she gives a little giggle before doing so.

"Are you cozy, sweetheart?" You murmur against her hair, and Wanda squeezes her arms around you.

"Yeah, your boobs are good pillows." She teases, making you laugh with reddened cheeks.

Your eyes begin to heavy quickly, fatigue catching up with your body relaxed by the comfort of the moment.

"Go to sleep, babe." Wanda whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smile with your eyes closed, surrendering.

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

The problem is that as soon as you start to wake up again, you are feeling sick.

You touch the emptiness in the bed, mumbling softly. When you open your eyes you find Wanda sitting in the armchair, the darkhold in her lap.

"Damn it, Wanda, this book again." You complain in a hoarse voice, but she just sighs.

"Why the attitude?"

"I hate that book." You grumble sitting up in bed, massaging your face lightly. "Why do you keep reading it anyway?"

"It's interesting." She says, closing the item to look at you. "Agatha really told me a lot, but there are also things I didn't know."

"For example?"

Wanda bites her lips, appraising you.

"Scarlet witches are forged, for instance." She says and you frown in confusion. Wanda sighs. "Many powerful witches, born scarlet witches, never got to fulfill their destiny because the forging didn't happen."

You straighten your clothes uncomfortably, pensively.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"What the headmistress did last year was my forging." She clarifies and you swallow dryly, feeling your stomach turn. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you ask confused.

"Everything." She says upset. "I know we've talked about this, but it seems like all I do is cause you problems. With the bond, and with the forge. If Agatha didn't want my powers, she wouldn't have taken you to the dungeon and you wouldn't have suffered."

You poke at the knot of your tie, feeling yourself suffocate slightly. Wanda is speaking, you blink to focus on her words.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" You ask out of breath, sweating. You blink to find Wanda's concerned gaze on you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" She asks worriedly, her hands around your face.

You feel your head spin, and everything goes dark before you can answer.

//-//-//-//

You smell the scent of grass when you wake up.

Then you blink in confusion, getting used to your surroundings to realize that you are in what looks like a ward bed.

"Hey, all right, take it easy getting up, Miss Stark." Asked Professor Strange with one hand on her shoulder. In the other he held a potion that you imagined he had given you.

"W-what happened?" you mumbled confusedly, sitting up in bed. Only now did you notice Professor Munroe and Wanda standing in front of the bed, both with worried expressions.

"You passed out, but you're better now I imagine." Stephen explained gently, but you were still feeling very weak.

"Professor, she simply blacked out." Wanda commented in a tearful voice. " Don't you have any idea what's wrong?"

Stephen sighed, and then pointed at the chair, the darkhold.

"Where did you get that book?" He asked, and Wanda frowned, taking a step toward the chair in a defensive posture.

"What does that have to do with my question?" she retorted dryly, and Stephen looked at you one last time before standing up.

"There's a reason it's called the Book of the Damned, Miss Maximoff." He says."It damns its readers."

"That's ridiculous." Wanda retorted, crossing her arms. "I've been reading it for weeks and nothing has happened."

"Not with you."

Wanda hesitates, widening her eyes. And then she takes a step back, swallowing her cry as she reaches out to grab the book and hand it to Stephen.

She turns her gaze back to you, and lets the tears fall.

"I am truly sorry." She says with a mixture of guilt and shame before turning to leave the room.

You call out to her about three times, but she leaves and you don't have the strength to go after her.

"Damn, couldn't I have said that in a different way?" You complain angrily to Stephen, who just sighs, exchanging a look with Professor Munroe. "How come you two are here anyway?"

"It was Wanda." Professor Ororo replies. "She asked the room for someone trustworthy to help her with you. Then there was a door opening in the potions room. Stephen was there with me, and we both came."

"Great." You mutter annoyed, thinking about how you are going to talk to Wanda and convince her that you were not angry with her. "Would either of you happen to know how to make me better now?"

"Sure." Stephen comments by raising the book in the air, and with a wave of his hand, the item dissolves into several pieces until it is gone. "I didn't destroy it, if that's what you're thinking. I just put it away, to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Congratulations." You grumble wryly as you straighten up in bed, the same migraine from before is now weaker, but it's still there.

"You know, you had a better attitude when you didn't have a magical doom on your spirit." Stephen complains, causing you to frown, but Professor Ororo gives a chuckle.

"Thanks professor." You comment wryly, making him laugh. He sits back down beside your bed, and pulls out of the cover a small notebook.

"Now that Miss Maximoff has stopped reading the book, I suppose you will get better." Stephen says, making you sigh.

"You suppose? That's encouraging." You say moving to stand up.

"Where are you going, Miss Stark? You need to rest." Warn the professor, but you ignore him, and ignore the weakness in your body as well.

"What I need, Strange, is for people to stop lying to me."

"No one is lying, Miss Stark." Professor Ororo states next. "We really don't know the extent of the magic the darkhold carries."

"And why is that I imagine?" You sneer. "Because someone omitted the truth from you, and it's been passed down for generations, isn't it? Well, that's over now. Because we've finally studied everything in this place, including a book that condemns anyone who reads it." You exclaim impatiently, stooping down to put on your shoes. "If you two will excuse me, I'll figure out how to get better on my own. But first I'm going to explain to my girlfriend that none of this is her fault."

Ororo and Stephen are silent, but you wouldn't have been paying attention to anything they said anyway.

Soon you are up and out of the requirement room looking for Wanda.

//-//-//-//

She seems to have disappeared from the castle, so you must concentrate to use your instincts.

The hardest part is dodging the aurors, but you finally reach the astronomy tower.

You're a little out of breath from the run, but it's the image of Wanda standing on the edge, the sunlight in her hair that leaves you breathless.

"Hi." You say in a low tone, your hands in your pockets as you approach. She startles slightly, wiping away tears as she keeps her gaze forward.

"What do you want here?" she asks in a husky voice. You sigh.

"That you stop hating yourself and listen to me." You say and she lets out a short laugh.

"And what do you think you can say?" She questions turning her body toward you. "All I do is hurt you."

You shake your head, but Wanda lets out a tearful laugh.

"No you don't understand." She says. "Since I met you, you have only brought me good things. Affection, happiness, hope. You've been that kind warm feeling that I need on my worst days. Hell, you're even the memory for me to cast a patronus." She confesses with emotion, her face wet with tears. "But me? All I bring you is pain and suffering. And now I even bring sickness. This is wrong, I hurt you. You need to see this, and understand that we can no longer happen."

"Don't say that." You ask, reaching up to touch her face, wipe away her tears. "That's not true, Wanda. I love you, you make me..."

"Stop it." She interrupts with a sob. "Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." You plead, resting your forehead on hers, your hands on her cheeks. "You make me happy, you are the only thing that makes me happy, I love you, please..."

Wanda kisses you hard, and you respond with the same intensity, both of you gasping into each other's mouths.

But then she is pulling away, thrusting you farther apart.

"I'm sorry." She cries, taking a step back. "We're over."

And she's running away again, and this time you don't go after her.

//-//-//-//-//

Without Darkhold's being consumed, you really start to improve in terms of physical health.

The only problem is the emotional ditch you find yourself in.

Gamora, Nebula and Mantis find you, again in the Room of Requirement, skipping class.

"My god this is worse than last time." Gamora remarks as she looks around at the mess of junk food and pillows. The room had been transformed into a "comfortable place", which basically had the appearance of a living room, with several soft armchairs, and lots of unhealthy food. "Why did you guys break up this time?"

"Please don't talk to me." You grumbled, your voice coming out muffled because you were lying on two soft puffs, your face buried in the pillow, your hand inside a bag of muggles snacks.

"I bet you five bucks they'll be back together before the end of the month." Nebula commented and you sniffled against your pillow, hearing a noise that sounded like Gamora hitting her sister.

"We talked to Wanda." Mantis said. "And with Professor Stephen, too. We're sorry about everything, but have you decided you're not going to study anymore?"

"I don't care about school." You grumble against the pillow. "Leave me alone, I want to cry."

Nebula gives a short laugh, and Gamora elbows her.

"Stop hitting me, you crazy." Nebula complains loudly, moving away from her sister to approach you, taking the bag of snacks you have, and making you complain softly. "And you stop being such a drama queen. Aren't you two like soul mates or some shit? It's just a fight, you'll work it out. You're acting like you've never broken up before."

"Your sensitivity is admirable." Gamora scoffs, pushing her sister away to sit next to you, stroking your back until you look up at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You feel the urge to cry arise again. "Wanda thinks she is bad for me." You say. "And she doesn't want to be with me anymore, and I want to die."

You start crying again, stuffing your face into the pillow as Gamora strokes your hair.

"How did this happen anyway?" Nebula asks, confused, chewing on salty snacks."You barely slept at home over the summer to be with her, and now you guys are breaking up. It's hard to keep up with this relationship."

"Merlin, Nebula shut up." Gamora asks impatiently, and her sister raises her hands in surrender with an ironic expression. You want to scream against your pillow, but all you do is try to control your crying.

"You can't keep disappearing, sweetheart." Gamora says as she runs her hands through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Kaecilius has already noticed. He's trying to figure out where you're going, and eventually he'll figure it out since you can't stay here forever."

"Maybe I can." You mumble making Gamora laugh softly.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss a decent meal." She says. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"

"I can't sit at your table."

"Who said anything about a table?"

This is how you end up on the edge of the great lake, at a picnic.

Mantis gets several dishes from the house elves, and since lunch is a free social hour, nobody seems to mind that you are eating outside.

Your sisters are not the only students who, over time, have learned ways around school rules.

You grumble slightly as you feel the sun on your face, but lie back on the grass, closing your eyes.

Your mind wanders back to last summer immediately, the memories of Wanda, and you feel horrible. You just want her back. And then you swallow the urge to cry again to accept the juice Mantis offers you.

"We wanted to tell you that we've found a way to help you, too." Gamora says after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrow. "About the darkhold, and the eternal damnation thing."

"Light topic." You sneer, throwing your arm over your face. The day is hot. "I appreciate the help, of course."

Gamora giggles. "Merlin, I had forgotten how grumpy you get when you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Gamora." You retort angrily. "I'm frustrated."

"Sexually." Nebula sneers, making you grunt in anger, but Mantis holds back a laugh.

"What's your problem with my feelings lately?" You accuse the girl with irritation.

"Not everything is about you, you know." She retorts and you sit up quickly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nebula laughs, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on." She says. "We're all stressed and scared. And the three of us have been in the same classes as you, having to watch the same things. But you only have time for Wanda. And now you've broken up, again, because there's some mortal danger, again, that she's caused for you. So, I don't know, but maybe she is right to break up. Ever since you guys started dating everything has been about her, and the trouble she causes!"

"Fuck you, Nebula!" You exclaim angrily, advancing against the girl in front of you. Gamora and Mantis quickly separate you.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gamora shoves you. "Were you really going to hit her?"

"Fuck this." You curse angrily, taking a step away. "I didn't ask any of you to come after me. I don't need you. I just need Wanda. Fucking leave me alone."

You turn back to the castle, cursing the wild on your way.

//-//-//-//

Loki is the only friend you have now.

You wouldn't call him a friend exactly.

Kaecilius has put you in detention for three days a week, including Saturday, but mostly you just clean the castle. But when he takes you to the seventh floor, and makes you scrape sentences against your own skin, you don't worry about being alone anymore, because Loki is always on that floor.

It takes a week for you to tell him about the requirement room.

" You could have mentioned it earlier, we would have stuck around here." He comments without sounding upset.

Soon it doesn't take long for you two to start seeing each other even when you're not in detention.

You are not surprised that Loki also skips classes, he has always been quite mischievous, but the reason is different from yours.

He knew dark magic. Much more than you or your classmates. And he has no interest in practicing it in class.

"It's stupid." He comments as you are sitting in the armchairs. "Most people will never have the courage or willpower to cast a death curse. It's useless to learn."

"Is that the only reason you don't agree with the teaching at Hogwarts now?" You ask in surprise, setting up the chessboard for yourself as Loki shrugs his shoulders.

"I feel like you're judging me, Hufflepuff." He sneers but you smile, rolling your eyes.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn."

And you really didn't care.

Wanda was avoiding you in the halls, and you were doing the same with your friends and family.

When Iron delivered the mail to the Slytherin table, including Nebula's birthday presents, you wanted to throw up, but all you did was walk away from the Hufflepuff table toward the requirement room.

Without the darkhold, you didn't feel sick, but the anger didn't go away.

Your magic hadn't stabilized, and you were failing at everything, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry about it.

Erik wrote to you, commenting on the importance of you and Wanda practicing magical balancing together, and you burned the letter while crying on the carpet.

And at this rate, time went by.

It was almost the middle of the school year when things started to take a turn for the worse at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding war as well.

Mephisto is getting stronger, and the order is losing. And Kaecillius must be under some pressure from the ministry, maybe for answers from organizations like the Avengers, which are forbidden, because his detentions get too horrible.

It is Saturday again, and you drag yourself to the room where you are supposed to fulfill your detention, but unlike the other days, Kaecillius locks the door.

You only notice because he seems tense and distracted, and there is no feather or book.

"Professor, what will my punishment be today?" You ask confused, and he is nodding to the center of the room as he stands in front of the desk, a few feet from you.

"Miss Stark, today I want to ask some questions and I expect honesty." He declines as he turns to you.

You hiss softly, putting your hands in your pockets.

"Shoot."

Kaecillius doesn't even mind your lack of formality, looking at you with an impassive face.

"What is Mephisto's location?"

You choke in surprise and disbelief. "Excuse me? Why do you think I know that?"

"The ministry has reason enough to suspect that the Order of the Avengers is nothing more than a cover for the death walkers.Your brother, whom I had suspected of being part of that order of delinquents, is no longer at Hogwarts, but you will have to serve." He speaks and with each word you become more outraged. "Now answer me, where is Mephisto?"

" Did you just fucking call my brother a delinquent?" You mutter incredulously. "I have no idea where Mephisto is, what's your problem?"

But you widen your eyes when the professor draws his wand, and you barely have time to swallow dry before the spell hits you in the chest.

It's the cruciatus curse. You know the second it hits you. The sharp pain fills every cell in your body and you scream, not having the strength to stand or with your eyes open, hugging yourself.

"We must not tell lies, Miss Stark." Kaecillius says as soon as he stops enchanting you, the pain disappears in the same instant, but you continue to tremble.

In complete shock and fear, you sob.

"I will ask you again, where is Mephisto?"

You let the tears flow, and shake your head. "I don't know, professor."

Kaecillius lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Some cases are more difficult than others." He comments somberly, taking a step toward her. "Did you know that the record for enduring the Cruciatus curse before madness is six hours? Incredible, isn't it? It happened during the first war, with a muggleborn. You're a half-blood, maybe you can take longer"

He has a devilish grin as he finishes, and you clench your jaw at the threat.

"I don't know where Mephisto is." You repeat, but the professor points his wand at you again.

"My bet is seven hours."

And then the pain returns.

You don't know how long you stay in that room.

But it is long enough for your consciousness to begin to fade. The pain gets so severe that it gradually fades away. You begin to gasp breathlessly, not even able to scream anymore.

Someone help me. Please, help me. Help me. Wanda.

Between the tears you see the floor of the room, and between a twinge of pain, a red light. And everything is dark again.

//-//-//

“Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Warcraft and Wizard is arrested in flagrant by aurors from the ministry of magic this week, full coverage on page..."

You blink confusedly, your eyes getting used to the clarity, while the headline of the Daily Prophet was the first thing your vision caught.

And then you shifted in bed, realizing that you were in a hospital room , and whoever was reading next to you put the paper down when they heard you, and you could behold the curious look on your brother's face.

"Tony?" you whispered confused, and he smiled as he stood up quickly, the newspaper forgotten on the armchair.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as his hand reached for the loose strands of hair on your face and put them back. "You scared the hell out of me."

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

You thought, and then sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Kaecilius."

Tony bit his lip nervously before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his hand to his own. "I came here as soon as I got the howler from Professor Strange, but honestly, I didn't even need it, because all the newspapers are talking about it."

"What...?" You started in confusion, but Tony hurried to explain.

"Wanda found you, Y/N." He told. "She, well, wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. I think she lost control. Kaecilius is lucky to be alive if you ask me. She almost destroyed the seventh floor, it was a huge mess. And then the aurors interfered, and soon there were reporters everywhere. I guess now everyone knows she's a scarlet witch."

You widened your eyes, straightening to sit up and grumbling a little in pain. Tony looked at you with concern, asking you to take it easy, but you were already asking about Wanda.

"She's at the ministry of magic." He clarified. "Kaecilius is going on trial for torturing a student, and she will answer for putting everyone in danger."

" What?" you ask incredulously, and Tony sighs.

"Yeah I know it's unfair." He says. "But the minister of magic seems to be looking everywhere for people to blame for his lack of control. The problem is how much of that information will get to Mephisto. The whole ministry seems to be full of walkers."

You ran your hand across your face, frustrated.

"I'm so tired, Tony." You confess in a whisper. "It feels like everything is falling apart around me, and things are only getting worse."

Tony squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry, I really am. This whole situation sucks, and I wanted to help you. I'm trying, sister. I haven't been talking to you as much as I should, but I didn't want you to think you're alone. I'm working on breaking the bond. To free you and Wanda from the prophecy, and the wizarding world from dangers like Mephisto. I'm sorry I haven't been by your side."

You swallow your cry, and nod, trying to smile at Tony. He reaches up to hug you, and you gasp softly, taking a few seconds to relax and let the tears flow.

When you calm down, Tony tells you that he is going to get a Mediwizards to check your situation.

You lie down again, sighing softly. The memories come back with full force, and you choke softly, feeling your body tremble.

It's as if you can feel the curse again, sense the pain on your skin. Opening your eyes and shaking the memories away, you swallow dryly and reach for the glass of water on the nightstand.

You just want Wanda by your side telling you that everything is going to be okay.

//-//-//-//-//

You stay under observation for two days.

Doctor Hank makes a joke about you enjoying St.Mungus more than you should since you keep coming back, but Tony doesn't laugh.

Then you' re going back to Hogwarts by train, because the doctor thinks you shouldn't use magical means of transportation for a few days, and it's weird to take the empty express, but as soon as you arrive at the station, Gamora and Nebula are waiting for you with boxes of candy bought in Hogsmeade, and tight hugs.

You are not surprised by the stares you receive from the other students, but you ignore them as your sisters escort you around the castle to the Hufflepuff communal hall.

"Did you get to talk to Wanda?" Gamora asks as soon as you sit down on your bed, sighing with exhaustion from the train ride. The mention of the other sorceress' name doesn't help.

"Not yet." You say. "And I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she's ignoring me."

Nebula exchanges a look with her sister before sitting down on Mantis' bed, who is hugging her knees and looking at you.

"Honestly, I just want to finish this year without any more problems." You confess as you take off your jacket. And there is a moment of silence before you swallow dryly. "I also wanted to apologize to you guys."

Gamora frowns slightly, but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

"I know I was under the influence of an evil book, but that was still no excuse for treating you guys like that." You begin. "Tony told me about how things are in the wizarding world. Everyone is going through something, and it was selfish of me to think that only my problems matter. I'm sorry."

"Really, Y/N, it's okay." Nebula says, surprising you a bit. "We were all stressed, and well, I think an evil book is a pretty fair excuse." She jokes, making you smile. "Maybe things will get a little better now that Strange is the director."

"Oh, that's right" You comment just then remembering the things Tony updated you on while you were at St.Mungus. Like Kaecillius' resignation, and the position being passed on to Professor Stephen. "But honestly, I won't be at peace until I hear from Wanda."

"The trial isn't until Friday. And the way things are going, we won't get any news until it's over." Gamora warned as she sat down on the bed next to you. "I think the Maximoffs are probably too busy to write."

"What do you think will happen to Wanda?" You ask as you tug at the loose strands of the comforter. Mantis sighs lightly.

"I don't have a good feeling about things, Y/N." She confesses and you frown in concern. "And the stars never lie."

"Thank you, Mantis." You mock softly, and Gamora runs her hands through her hair.

"Let's not be pessimistic, okay?" she says. "Maybe the predictions are about, I don't know, the school finals? It doesn't mean something bad is really going to happen."

You grumble unhappily, grabbing a pillow and sinking your face into it. Gamora strokes your back.

"I'm sure things will work out, Y/N." She says. "Wanda will write as soon as she can."

"Do you guys think Kaecilius will be sent to Azkaban?" Nebula asks next, making you raise your head curiously.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You grumble. "I was actually surprised that he was put on trial at all."

"Well, with the whole mess that happened, it was bound to happen." Gamora said. "More than half the school became aware that he used the cruciatus curse on you, and then the daily prophet. And I didn't even know they were in the castle."

"It was because of Wanda really, wasn't it?" Mantis added. "Kaecillius caused his own ruin. He called the journalists to show what he called progress and decided to torture a student while they were in the castle. Then Wanda destroyed the entire floor and the next morning his arrest was all over the pages."

"I'm just really outraged to know that if no one had seen it, he would probably still be at Hogwarts." Gamora says angrily, and you sigh, agreeing as well as the others.

"Well, you must be hungry, shall we go to the great hall? It's almost dinner time." Gamora comments next, pulling you by the hand. You grumble softly, but agree, and soon you are leaving the communal hall to join the rest of the students.

//-//-//-//-//

You are tapping your fingers gently against the desk as you wait for the History of Magic class to begin.

It is Friday, finally.

You have barely slept because of anxiety about news of Wanda's trial.

Things at Hogwarts have changed a lot this week, all because of Strange's administration.

He restored the old classes, banned the teaching of dark magic, the scandal at the Daily Prophet being enough of an argument that the Minister of Magic no longer had a defense over this kind of teaching at Hogwarts. The restricted session of the library was also put back, and the seventh floor was off-limits because of the destruction Wanda caused, and you unfortunately lost access to the Requirement room.

Mantis was writing what looked like a lunar calendar for the divination class while Professor Okoye didn't arrive, and you started whistling distractedly.

And then Thor Odinson was poking you in the back to get your attention, and you turned around in your chair.

"Hi, Stark, what's up?"

"Fine." You grumbled suspiciously. "Can I help you with something?"

Thor looked almost unsure. "I was just wondering if you know of anything going on with Loki."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean if you know if he's sick or something." He explains. "We had a fight, and well, he's not talking to me. And I've noticed that you guys have been kind of close lately, and I was curious if you knew anything and..."

"No, Thor, I'm sorry." You interrupt with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him that."

Thor assumes a sad expression. "I would, but he's ignoring me. I think it might be about our mother."

You make a confused expression, and Thor looks surprised.

"Our mother, she...died earlier this year, Y/N." Thor counters, and you widen your eyes. "Our family is a name of reference against Mephisto. With the war, the walkers came to our home. She was there while we were here, and Dad was at the ministry."

"I'm so sorry, Thor." You whisper to him, still shocked by the information. He shrugged.

"I thought Loki told you."

"We don't talk about things like that, I guess." You say. "Sorry, I wish I knew how to help you."

"No, it's okay." Thor says with a sad smile. "You being his friend this year is more than enough. I don't like seeing him all alone out here."

You nod lightly, settling into your chair as you notice the teacher entering the room.

Mantis exchanges a look of understanding with you, having overheard the conversation even if accidentally, but she says nothing, and soon you are hearing about the witch hunt in the United States, and you try to focus on that rather than curiosity about how Wanda's trial is going or Loki's current emotional state.

//-//-/-//-//-//

As soon as lunchtime begins, you join the Slytherin table, where some of the students have placed a radio on the table, equally with other students from the other houses, to listen to the trial.

You are not surprised that a student's trial is such an interesting topic for everyone, but after the school started talking about Wanda being a scarlet witch, and the theories circulating around the halls, it was to be expected.

So you sit back while biting your fingertips and listening.

"And now directly from the Ministry of Magic, the trial of seventeen-year-old witch Wanda Maximoff, daughter of legendary witch Erik L-"

Your attention is slightly diverted from the narrative when loud laughter catches your ears.

They are Gryffindor and Slytherin students, exchanging coins. You don't need to hear the conversation to know they are gambling about the trial, the mean laughter and glances in the direction of you and your sisters are enough.

And as if she could feel your growing fury, Gamora touches your shoulder gently.

"Just ignore them, Y/N." She urges and you clench your jaw. " Everything is going to be okay with Wanda."

"I hope you're right, Gamora." You grumble, turning your attention back to the radio.

The narration of the newspaper is generic, and you discover that the audience has been closed off to the reporters.

You take a deep breath, concentrating.

No strange feeling, so Wanda is safe.

You wonder if Erik and Pietro are by her side during the whole thing.

It is only at the end of lunchtime that you have the result.

"It's amazing how things unfold in the ministry this afternoon." Counted the reporter with almost excitement. "After a unanimous vote, the witch Wanda Maximoff was found guilty of endangering her fellow students by not registering as a scarlet witch to the ministry of magic, after it was proven that her father, the sorcerer Erik Lehnsherr knew of her condition, as well as the affiliation with the criminal, Agatha Harkness was also mentioned. The ministry finally decided on Wanda Maximoff's expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding"

You felt your stomach plummet.

And everything became a little muffled around you, a soft whistle in your ear. You think Gamora and Nebula were calling for you, but you were getting up, feeling the room getting too small.

Stumbling out, you loosened the knot of your tie, finally stopping in the courtyard as you leaned your body against a pillar.

Wanda had been expelled from Hogwarts, publicly exposed as a Scarlet Witch, and tried as a criminal. You wondered if they would break her wand. Banned wizards led horrible lives.

Your sisters and friends caught up with you quickly, and you let them hug you.

In a few minutes Director Strange is catching up with you as well, and you release Gamora's grip to talk to him.

"Professor, I need to..."

"You cannot leave Hogwarts, Miss Stark." He interrupts with a wave of his hands and you frown in confusion, ready to protest but he is already speaking. "Tony sent a patronus as soon as the results came out, he already figured you'd want to see Miss Maximoff. The ministry is a mess, and Wanda will be staying with her father there for the minister's final decisions. You should stay here, where you are safe."

"That's not fair!" You squawk angrily. "Wanda needs me, I must-"

"She needs you to be safe." He interrupts again seriously, and then lowers his tone slightly as he notices the curious looks of the surrounding students. "Be rational, Miss Stark. Now that the Wizarding community knows the nature of Wanda's powers, how long before Mephisto has enough information and discovers your identity as protector."

You swallow dryly, clenching your fists begrudgingly. Stephen is right. You look away, and he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Wanda will be fine, even without her NEWTS, she is an extraordinary witch." He says. "And the year is coming to an end, soon you will be able to see her again."

"She needs me now." You grumble annoyed, turning away from the professor's touch. He looks at you for a moment and then clears his throat.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Stark." He says."In the meantime, focus on your studies, and be careful."

You frown at Stephen's words, but he is already turning and leaving before you can ask.

As you turn to your friends, Gamora has a worried look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and you sigh, agreeing to hug her again as you mumble no.

"I can feel how upset she is, Gamora." You grumble against your sister's shirt, wishing you could hug Wanda now. Gamora squeezes you against her arms, and you thank her for her intention even if it isn't enough.

The next few days are like a blur for you.

Many letters arrive, as do many editions of the Daily Prophet.

When the picture of the day Wanda's wand was broken comes out on the front page and you see her tired face, you have to run out of the common room to keep from crying in front of your colleagues.

Everyone writes to you, even Carol, everyone but the Maximoffs.

It is frustrating, and honestly, it breaks your heart in many ways.

The news of a Scarlet Witch after a century is almost as bombastic as Mephisto's return, and you're not surprised that many of your colleagues would start to comment on the possibility of Wanda working with him or against him.

It's overwhelming how everyone talks about her, but all you can feel is how much you miss her around the castle, around you.

You couldn't even remember that your magic is stable, and with everything that has happened, you haven't had time to figure out how to fix things.

Stephen tried to help, but he didn't know what was going on. At least the theoretical part of magic you were able to master, and you hoped to get at least an acceptable score in some subjects.

Only almost a week and a half after the trial, Professor Strange interrupts the potions class to talk to you.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers of your classmates, you ask Professor Munroe to excuse you, and leave the room.

"What is wrong, professor?" You ask curiously as you close the door, watching Stephen with his hands in his pockets.The dungeons feel emptier without the ministry aurors around the castle.

"Saturday, in the Astronomy tower, nine-thirteen at night." He says as he hands you a small gold key, causing you to frown in confusion. "You will have exactly one hour, Miss Stark. Not a second more."

You stare at the object in your hand, and understand. A portal key. To Wanda.

"Thank you, Professor." You say, and Stephen nods before leaving.

You turn back to potions, the object in your pocket. You could barely contain your anxiety.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny--freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

A/F/N> Place your bets for my next comeback (a week, a month or tomorrow?). If I delete the blog, and you're in love with this story for some reason I don't know about because there are so many better things to read, know that I'll post everything on AO3 if I ever do.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #marvel imagines #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au

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lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Upload Complete

A late fic for day 3 of dp side hoes week!

Character: Wes Theme: Denial

---

Wes held his breath, watching the upload bar slowly increase.

Uploading 94%

Anxious energy buzzed in his veins, but he was still. Frozen. As if a single muscle twitch would bring this all crashing down.

Uploading 95%

It wouldn’t have been the first time his plans were thwarted at the last minute. Just last week he had been on his way home, camera in hand, when suddenly he felt the familiar chill of intangibility pass over him and his camera swiped from his clutches. He looked up to see Phantom, in all his egotistical glory, reach inside the camera, grab the memory card, and melt it in his palms.

Uploading 96%

But with each failure, months of countless iterations of the same plan, he had grown. He had learned. He had become more cunning, more discrete.

It really was only a matter of time before this day would come.

Uploading 97%

He was so close.

So close.

Uploading 98%

His mouth was a dessert. His hands clutched the edge of his desk, shaking. He couldn’t remember when the last time he blinked was, but it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered right now except how close he was he was so close.

Uploading 99%

So close.

Finally.

After all this time.

It was happening.

Upload complete

A breath escaped his lips. And then another. And another. Until the breaths quickened, and sound followed. A laugh. A breathy, weightless laugh.

He leaned back in his chair, allowing hilarity to overtake his body. This was bliss, it was pure bliss.

Wes stretched his arms out and stared up at the ceiling.

He had won.

After months of trying, he finally caught the perfect video showcasing the tail end of Phantom’s fight today with the infamous mecha ghost Skulker. Phantom sucked the ghost into his ghost thermos, flew behind a tree, and glanced around suspiciously for a brief moment before triggering his transformation sequence. Then, like icing on the cake, Foley and Manson appeared and had a conversation with Danny Fenton about the fight that Danny Phantom had just gone through. Fenton displayed the ecto-thermos and uttered the perfect lines about needing to “get him back to the Ghost Zone,” before turning his hand and the thermos intangible and shoving the object into his backpack.

The video was, by all accounts, perfect. Simply perfect. It was the exact undeniable proof that Wes had spent months trying to capture.

Now it was online for the world to see.

All he had to do now was share the link to the popular Phantom fan forum, sit back, and watch the internet work its magic.

If Wes was right, Phantom would be trending in an hour. News sites would be covering him by tonight. By tomorrow, everyone would know who—or what—Fenton really was.

A liar. An abomination. A danger to society.

All because of Wes.

He was victorious.

This was—

---

—wrong.

Wes pressed a hand against the glass, his eyes wide as he watched as red streaked against the green splatters dotting the panel.

This was all wrong.

“Come to gloat?” an icy voice sounded from beyond the glass wall.

“I never wanted this,” Wes whispered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the green stains on the glass, on the wall, on the floor. It popped against the otherwise barren room, painting the bleached scene with a terrifying story.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” The voice coughed, and then groaned. “You did this to me, Wes. This is your fault.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up.”

Wes’s eyes snapped over to the figure beyond the glass. It was sallow, decrepit. Nothing more than a bony mess of black, white, and green in a torn jumpsuit.

And it finally connected in Wes’s brain where he’d seen Phantom’s uniform before. It looked exactly like the suits worn in ecto-science labs.

Because when he saw the ghost now, Phantom looked right at home. He looked like he was made to be a lab rat.

And that made Wes nauseous.

“I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t want to be—to be a freak.” Phantom’s head lolled back against the wall. A trickle of ectoplasm dripped from his chin, peppering the floor with even more green, but he made no move to clean his face.

Wes’s hand fell to his side. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here.” His voice didn’t sound too convincing. It sounded pathetic, weak.

Phantom snorted, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“I will,” Wes reiterated.

“Whatever you say.”

His pulse quickened, and before he could stop himself he choked out, “I just need to know. I need to know. What—what are you?”

Phantom’s eyes narrowed, snapping onto Wes.

Wes could have forgotten how to breathe. “Please, I need to know. Are you dead?”

“No.”

Wes’s blood ran cold.

“As in no, you don’t get to know what I am.” Phantom said. “You don’t get that privilege. Do you understand, Weston? You posted that video knowing that everyone, everyone, would see it, including the federal organization established to capture me. You knew deep down that this was going to happen. You just didn’t care because the only thing that mattered was that you were right and everyone else was just in too deep denial to see it, am I right?”

It was so hard to breathe.

Phantom leaned forward, his head drooping down to his chest. “You took away everything. I have nothing left. So now you can just sit there for the rest of your life and think about the fact that you have no idea if the person who you condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment was human, or ghost, or something in between.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing, you know,” Wes said, frustration seeping into his tone. “I just threw away my life too by doing this. I can’t exactly go home either.”

“Oh what, am I supposed to thank you now? For ruining my life but then coming back to ‘save’ me?” Phantom snapped. “Shut the fuck up.”

He could have left. He could have just turned around and left Phantom to rot in this compound for the rest of his afterlife.

But no, he’d come so far. And as today, he was officially a criminal.

He could never go home now. He couldn’t waste this trip.

And besides, he knew that he needed Phantom’s help in escaping the compound. This plan was a one way trip, put together after months of planning. Months of working with one of the most notorious hackers Wes knew online.

This was the best plan he had. But it wasn’t foolproof.

“I can get you in,” the hacker said from the other side of the screen. “After that? You’re on your own.”

Wes nodded. “That’s all I need.”

Silas was silent for a moment. “You know, when you reached out to me on Reddit, I thought you were delusional at first. I thought that this plan would never work, that you were out of your mind. But I figured I’d entertain you for a minute. At least hear you out before I wrote you off completely.”

“And I’m grateful.”

“But now, Wes? Now I just think you have a death wish.”

“You don’t understand,” Wes said bitterly. “This is my fault. I need to get Phantom out.”

“You’ll kill yourself before you make it out of there.”

“Please, just tell me what I need to know.”

There was a fingerprint scanner mounted on the wall next to the glass pane. Wes approached it cautiously, trying to ignore Phantom’s eyes that tracked his every move, and stopped before the wall.

“The hacker I’ve been working with programmed my thumb into this lock,” Wes said. “I’ll unlock it, then we run. Once we clear the door, you phase us out of here. Okay?”

Phantom didn’t say anything, but Wes didn’t need him to. There was no alternative plan, no other way to make it out of here intact. It was either this, or they both die.

Wes lifted his trembling hand, pressing his thumb to the scanner. The scanner came to life, lighting up green as it read his finger print.

For a moment, nothing happened. Deafening silence permeated the room, the mounting pressure slowly suffocating Wes’s lungs. Each millisecond that the scanner spent on his thumb felt like an eternity.

And then, just when he felt like he was about to collapse, the scanner turned red.

Time stopped. Wes’s eyes widened, and he drew in a short, shuddering breath.

No.

The blaring started.

NO!

The room filled with red light and high-pitched wailing. Wes’s legs cemented to the ground, and all he could do was turn his head and watch in horror as Phantom’s terrified eyes rolled to the back of his head before the ghost collapsed on the ground.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t have been real.

How did their plan fail?

Wes heard the door open, and the sounds of footsteps filled surrounded him. He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t watch as his worst fears unfolded in front of him.

“So you were the rogue fingerprint,” a deep voice from behind him said. “You know, we thought it was odd when all of the sudden one day, a twenty seventh fingerprint suddenly was logged into the scanner seemingly overnight.”

No…

“Teenager, huh? Always think you’re invincible.”

Wes opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His body was numb. He couldn’t feel his limbs. His brain was screaming at him to run, get out of here, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, not because of anything the government had done to him.

No. It was fear.

“Too bad for you, you’re not as invincible as you think you are.”

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #dp side hoes week 2021 #wes weston #phicc #my writing #angst #😈😈😈#just a little bit of pain #as a treat

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

Gezellig

You were the warmth that only another person could give

Kenma x f!reader

a/n: kenma is definitely my comfort character~

wc: 1.8k

It started with an apple pie recipe.

Kenma was editing his latest play-through video for a new video game when the craving for his favorite food creeped up on him again. He considered going to the nearby bakery that sold decent mini apple pies but a glance at the clock on his computer put an end to that idea—it was midnight and the bakery had been closed for three hours.

Normally Kenma would have settled for the day old pastry on his kitchen table but the craving for apple pie had plagued him for a while now. The reason? His neighbor had baked one a couple days ago and Kenma couldn’t stop thinking about the delicious aroma that had seeped through the walls into his unit.

A hasty thought crossed Kenma’s mind and he got up from his gaming chair to wander into the kitchen. He scanned the counters until his eyes landed on the two large apples Kuroo dropped off along with other groceries Kenma let spoil more often than not. The presence of the main ingredient spurred his impulses and Kenma fell back onto his couch as he scrolled through YouTube for an easy apple pie recipe. His perceptive eyes were immediately drawn to the golden crust of the pie on your thumbnail and his fingers clicked on your video without a second thought.

In the end, Kenma never got to making the apple pie and instead binge-watched every video on your ASMR cooking channel until he passed out at five in the morning.

Kenma knew he was obsessed when he turned on the notification bell on your channel. He loved the simplicity of your videos. There wasn’t any cheesy background music or obnoxious text. Your videos were intimate and comforting with the natural sounds of your cooking or baking and the high-quality recordings. More often than not, Kenma found himself unwinding to your content after a stressful meeting with the board members or a difficult gaming session. In fact, the more he watched your videos the more he found himself closing his eyes and imagining himself in your kitchen listening to the sizzling of the sautéing vegetables or the whir of your mixer combining the ingredients of a cake. It wasn’t necessarily hard to do since the layout of your kitchen was very similar to his own.

He should have found it suspicious when his neighbor’s cooking seemed to predict the video you would upload next but Kenma wasn’t one to dwell on unnecessary things like that. So when his neighbor cooked a delicious smelling recipe, Kenma would crave it the next day and ordered it to eat while he watched your nimble hands cook a similar dish.

In the two years Kenma had lived in his unit, he’d never crossed paths with his foodie neighbor. Although considering his line of work, Kenma supposed it wasn’t too surprising. He spent most of his time in his office and only when out when necessary. So when his doorbell rang and it wasn’t Kuroo with groceries or takeout but a young woman with a sheepish look on her face, Kenma froze like a deer in headlights.

“Hi! Umm…I’m your neighbor,” she introduced herself and awkwardly held up a small bowl. “Do you have some salt I can borrow?”

“Uh…yeah, come in.” Kenma replied stepping aside to let her in. There was a softness about her demeaner that drew him in and it wasn’t until her eyes blinked at him in confusion that he realized he’d been staring.

“T-this way.”

As Kenma led his neighbor to the kitchen he wracked his brain for the location of the salt container Kuroo had bought for him to use despite never having cooked a meal in his life. It took a couple of tries flipping through cupboards before he found the large salt container and handed it to his neighbor.

“Thanks!” She accepted it and began pouring some into her bowl. “Y’know your kitchen is a lot like mine but way cleaner!”

“I don’t really use it,” Kenma admitted. “I find it kind of intimidating…cooking.”

“It is at first but it gets easier the more you do it.” She smiled as she handed the salt back to Kenma and he couldn’t help but admire the way her entire face seemed to smile. Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons while the apples of her cheeks framed her gummy smile endearingly.

“I guess that applies to a lot of things.”

“Yes, it really does! I’m a firm believer in practice makes perfect.”

With that she thanked Kenma profusely and apologized for the intrusion before slipping on her shoes and walking out the door. While it may have only been a few minutes, the impression she left on Kenma lasted much longer. He went outside more just so he could run into his nice neighbor who would always strike up a conversation with him about anything. And while he was normally not one for small talk, it never felt forced around her. She had a knack for making even the dullest subject a compelling topic and Kenma quickly looked forward to those moments outside their apartment complex, in front of the convenience store, or outside her unit.

But even those short conversations Kenma has with his neighbor reveal very little about her. So when Kenma gets a notification from your channel and opens YouTube, he drops his phone when your thumbnail picture isn’t food but rather his neighbor that he’d grown fond of. Kenma’s eyes dart to your shared wall as he comes to terms with the fact that his favorite content creator and his pretty neighbor are the same person. It takes a couple of minutes for the initial shock to pass and another twenty minutes for him to play the video in the comfort of his office and with his headset on.

You’re all smiles as you announce a giveaway to celebrate one-hundred thousand subscribers. You introduce each of the five prizes and explain each one in detail. They’re all cooking tools from one of your sponsors that Kenma recognizes from your previous videos. When you’re describing the rules to enter, the similarities between your apartment and his are glaringly obvious now and Kenma can only shake his head in disbelief. The video ends too quickly so he watches it another ten times almost convincing himself that it’s to understand the rules of the giveaway and consider each of the products despite knowing he’d never actually enter.

A week after your giveaway video, Kuroo comes over with food and drinks after a business trip. A meal and a couple of beers later, Kenma opens up to Kuroo about you and the fact that you’re not only his favorite YouTuber but his neighbor as well. The liquid courage spurs him on and Kenma talks about your gorgeous smile, soft-looking hair, and your laugh that goes from a giggle to a cackle within a matter of seconds. Always the observant friend, Kuroo notices the persistent smile on Kenma’s face as he goes on about you and urges his best friend to ask you out on a date. The thought of spending hours with you is enough to get his heart racing but his insecurities never fail to rear their ugly heads and Kenma dismisses the idea as quickly as it comes up.

Kenma drinks even more to drown his insecurities and fantasies of you while Kuroo drinks with him knowing it’s best to support him quietly like this. When the last drop of alcohol is consumed, the two friends are completely drunk and Kuroo crashes in the guest room while Kenma stumbles to his room and collapses on his bed as the world spins around him.

Your image comes to mind but it’s too hazy for Kenma’s liking so he pulls up your giveaway video and watches it for the hundredth time. You’re so happy about your channel’s milestone that Kenma can’t help but smile like a fool as you thank your subscribers profusely. It’s with lowered inhibitions that Kenma is able to scroll to the comment section and write out how much your channel means to him.

The sound of multiple notifications stirs Kenma awake to a terrible hangover. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and focuses on his blindingly bright screen to see what the fuss is about. There’s a message from his publicist asking if he’s okay but before Kenma can reply he gets a notification from your channel; however, it isn’t the typical one that lets him know you’ve uploaded a video. The notification is a heart reaction to a comment and Kenma’s heart is in his mouth as his shaky finger taps on your giveaway video.

He doesn’t have to scroll far to find his comment because it’s the first one with ten thousand likes and three hundred comments to boot. Completely mortified, Kenma reads through the comments that have a wide range of reactions. Some gush about how cute it is for Kodzuken to fanboy over your channel while others express their disappointment that their favorite gamer actually likes cooking ASMR. While they are unnerving, it isn’t the comments that worry Kenma but the little red heart you’d left on his comment.

While he doubts you knew who he was before, this comment and the crazy feedback will definitely pique your interest enough to look him up and find out who he really is. Scared of facing you, Kenma holes himself up in his apartment. To get you out of his mind, he buries himself in work and video game streams and turns off the notifications for your channel.

After a week of not hearing anything from you, Kenma thinks he’s in the clear until one evening he opens his door expecting his takeout only to find you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes and Kenma’s heart hammers in his chest as your eyes soften and you break into a smile. The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts up to his nostrils and you raise your mitted hands to reveal the same pie that had drawn him to you in the first place.

“Your fans mentioned you like apple pie,” you explain with a chuckle. “And I still owe you for the salt.”

“My…fans?” Kenma asks, still stunned you’re talking to him despite the comment fiasco.

“Yeah, you see I needed a reason to visit my neighbor and ask him out. Luckily, he’s a famous streamer with lots of fans.” Your confidence almost hides flush on your cheeks that deepens the longer Kenma stares at you in shock.

“…Unless you don’t want to go out-“

“I do!” Kenma blurts out. “More than anything.”

Your entire face breaks into a smile. “Well then how about a pie date?”

With a stomach full of butterflies, Kenma lets you into his apartment for the second time only this time he knows what he feels for you and is comforted by the fact that you feel the same way.

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oddaodd · 3 years

Text

· What About France? ·

Michael Gray x Reader

Summary: Michael tells the reader he must away to America.

Author’s Note: This was requested by the lovely @sh4desofsadness. I hope you enjoy it and have the loveliest of days! 🥰

Also, I’m so very sorry about the wait. I had been suffering from a case of writer’s block which I’m glad to say is gone now. Anyhow, I hope to finish writing and uploading the rest of my requests this week, so wait to read from me. ❤️

Warnings: season 4 SPOILERS (kind of), angst and smut.

“So you’re just going to leave?” She asked, her voice breaking at the end.

Michael had phoned her earlier that evening saying that he needed to see her that day. Y/n had had busy day so she met him late in the evening, in the confinements of his office. They were the only two people in the building when he told her the dreadful news of his untimely departure to America.

He looked at her with sad eyes, feeling a pang in his heart as he noticed her pain filled eyes.

“What about our trip to France?” She continued.

“It will have to wait” he replied feeling guilty “I had no choice”

No, you did have a choice! But you chose not to choose the right thing! She retaliated, her sadness morphing into anger.

“It’s so easy for you to say! You weren’t being hunted down by Italians. You didn’t have to sleep with one eye open because there was every chance in the world for someone to come end you in your sleep! You have no idea what it was like! So don’t come here telling me what I should’ve done! He yelled

Her eyes watered but her face remained contorted by anger “Excuses are easy to make” she said before she moved to start walking towards the door, but Michael abruptly trapped her against the wall and kissed her urgently.

He felt fear cracking through his actions, had it been too much? Would she push him away?

But it hadn’t and she didn’t, instead she deepened the kiss holding onto him as if she was a fish out of the water and he the ocean.

She stared unbuttoning his shirt with feeble fingers as his tongue wandered freely into her mouth earning a quiet moan. Once she managed to get rid of his shirt she led them both to the nearest sofa. Their lips only parting briefly when she fell onto said sofa.

Hovering over her body he started pressing kisses to her neck sucking at her skin at times, leaving a trail of tiny purple and red marks along her clavicles and down between her breasts.

She knew she would be wishing the marks to never fade once he departed.

She moaned his name as she felt herself getting wet at his touch. Suddenly something, Knowing that he would leave the next day caused a strange feeling of sadness run through her earning a whimper from her lips.

Michael halted his actions and turned to look at her in concern. She met his gaze and for the second time that night crushed his concern when she rejoined their lips imperatively.

She could feel him getting hard through his trousers and hitched up her dress in response, mentally cursing every layer of fabric that stood between them.

“Michael, I need you” she breathed a heavy breath.

Eager lo comply, he smoothly took off her knickers and unbuttoned his trousers and underpants while trying not to crush her underneath him.

He took himself in his hand and ran his cock through her wet folds. She cried a needy moan, craving the feeling of him inside her more than ever before. Soon enough she felt him pushing into her and they both drew heavy blissful breaths at the feeling.

He began with slow thrusts but the need they were both feeling called him to speed up. A doused y/n lost herself at the sensation of him inside her, as close as they could possibly be yet she felt it wasn’t close enough.

Desiring to be closer she held onto him, unintentionally digging her nails on his back, only prompting him to go faster and deeper. The cacophony of moans and pleas that filled the room only increased in volume as he drew her nearer and nearer to the edge.

He felt her tightening around him and moved his hand to her clit to finally indulge her with the high she so desperately was begging for.

“M..Michael, cum inside me” she yelled in labored fashion as she violently came around his cock.

The utterly blissful and contorted expression that screened in her face urged him to climax seconds after her plea rang through his ears. One last long moan emanating from her as she felt his seed shooting inside her.

“I promise we will go to France” he said holding her close. “When things are going steady in America, I promise I will come back for you and we will go”

@nyotamalfoy

#Michael Gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray x reader #michael Gray angst #michael gray smut #Michael Gray request #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders angst #peaky blinders request

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unfortunatelysirius · 4 years

Text

Shut Up and Dance // Sirius Black [Marauders Era]

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

When Hogwarts decides to host a Christmas gala during the Marauders’ seventh year, students find themselves learning how to dance. And Sirius has to open the gala with his crush!

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

I loved this prompt tbh. Might upload some more tonight but this is 3300+ words so like… I did sOMETHING OK??? Inbox is open for requests & some love until Wednesday :)

Half a week before Hogwarts students were meant to go home for winter break, older students were buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t going home that had them so jittery—not even the upcoming feast before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave. Not the plans they had over Christmas or the surprise vacations their parents were sure to spring on them. This year was unusual in that it wasn’t like any year they’d had before.

Hogwarts was hosting a winter-themed Christmas gala for the first time in decades.

It was announced at the feast on Halloween. It was Professor Forrest, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had the privilege of divulging it, as he had attended Hogwarts during the years galas were annual events. He dreamed of hosting such a spectacle himself. Headmaster Dumbledore thought it was a wonderful idea and even Professor McGonagall was smiling during Professor Forrest’s rather… enthused announcement. The entire Great Hall was in theatrical hysteria; students from every House went crazy, the girls already talking about what they wanted to wear.

It was all anyone talked about for weeks, their whispers growing louder and more frenzied the closer the gala approached. Going home was all a secondary matter of excitement for the students who looked forward to Firewhiskey-spiked punch, Great Hall decorations, eye-drawing formalwear, and having a night out with friends. The Marauders regularly had common-room parties, but they never had musical guests and the attire was less than formal.

Unfortunately for the boys, a Christmas gala also meant dancing. Professor McGonagall was a stickler for appearances and called a required lesson for Gryffindors half a week before the gala was scheduled.

It felt nerve-wracking and strange sitting in a room much like a DADA practical would take place in, and all of Gryffindor House eligible to attend the gala—fifth years to seventh years—were sitting uncomfortably in the benches staring unwaveringly at their Head of House. Professor McGonagall stood in the middle of everyone, after standing and fiddling with a record player for a long, longfew minutes. “This is the House of Godric Gryffindor,” she said stiffly, her eyes grazing the buffooning boys and sticking knowingly on James Potter and Sirius Black. “A house that’s stayed a house of pride and honor throughout centuries. Much above all, our gala is not only a celebration of Christmas tradition—it isa dance where you are expected to have a partner and dance like respectable witches and wizards. I will not tolerate animals. Making a fool out of yourself is not in the name of Christmas spirit at Hogwarts, as it may very well be elsewhere—”

“You hear that, Prongs?” Sirius said, nudging James with a grin. He barely tried muffling his voice, not noticing the stern look Professor McGonagall gave him. “Behaving like an animal’s forbidden. Suppose you and Lily won’t be able to attend, the way you two have been going at each other—”

“Bloody hell, Padfoot,” James hissed, but the smirk on Sirius’s face was less than apologetic, even with all the eyes that were now on them. Lily Evans’s face was beetroot red.

“Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall said. The entire roomwas staring right at him, faces ranging from disgusted to amused to shocked. The ashen professor’s was beyond scandalized. “Are you volunteering?”

“I’d rather not, Minny,” Sirius said, crossing his arms and acting smooth in the face of Professor McGonagall’s wrath. The more juvenile male Gryffindors snickered on each side of him. “I’m fine here.”

“Ah, if not with me, why not one of our student dancers?” Professor McGonagall’s eyes flashed and she looked over at the girls’ side. Her eyes pinpointed on a girl with Y/H/L Y/H/C hair sitting stoically in her seat. “Please join me, Y/N.”

Y/N L/N was a seventh year Gryffindor who taught free dancing lessons to amateurs as a pastime. She was pretty, quiet, and humble, a girl who went unnoticed by most people. Unfortunately for Sirius’s case…

Sirius’s smirk wavered and he felt James’s less-than-sympathizing smack on his shoulder.

“Y/N here is an exceptional dancer and will be opening for us at the gala,” said Professor McGonagall, her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. A minute smile played on her lips which was more than Sirius ever got out of the woman; she was rather stiff in the face. “Why don’t you judge her, Mr. Black?”

There were quite a few girls on the other side of the room who had the most affronted expressions in realizing Y/N L/N got a free dance with Sirius Black and they didn’t.

Sirius stood slowly from being slouched and walked over to the middle, unable to miss Y/N’s cutting eyes. She looked as affronted as the girls who got to sulk and watch, yet she was getting a dance without doing anything so it had to be Sirius particularly who put her in a sullen mood. Yet Sirius didn’t remember doing anything to her.

Bloody hell, she hates me! Sirius thought in distress as he met Y/N halfway and Professor McGonagall drew them closer.

“Hand on her waist, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall instructed, proceeding to move his hand upward when he reached down and cupped right at her hip. Y/N put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder and her other hand took his own that was free, drawing it out from the shoulder. She straightened up and Sirius copied, feeling as nervous as one possibly could, all things considered. “Now, follow her lead.”

She stepped back to give them space. Y/N’s silently intense gaze was steadfast, Sirius unable to look away, as she took a step back and Sirius indeed followed her lead.

Sirius was not a bad dancer. In fact, he was a good dancer. As a child his parents had him learn how to dance before he was able to attend Pureblood gatherings. Even if it had been years since he last had to dance in front of an audience, he had yet to forget what was last taught to him.

The rest of the room watched, transfixed, as Y/N and Sirius danced throughout the room, Sirius occasionally taking her waist with both hands and swinging her around. They alternated and swung, changed positions and met each other’s palms, Y/N’s concentration a force that never wavered; Sirius’s own couldn’t have the same said about it. He noticed the glower on her face when he first walked up to her and she still looked like she had a sour taste in her mouth. Was he really all that repulsive?

“Excellent,” Professor McGonagall said, looking pleased after Y/N abruptly ripped herself away from him. There were already Gryffindors springing up, excited to share the same subtle intimacy that Y/N and Sirius did. “Girls, boys, up! Find a partner.”

Y/N acted like Sirius’s touch had burned her and it hurt a good bloody bit, if he was honest.

“Y/N, do you—” Sirius tried, but Y/N was speeding away from him faster than a bloody Accio’ed broom. She barely gave him a last word or glance. She went into the arms of another bloke, a sixth year, who looked all too eager to have his hands all over her. “Fuck.”

“Tough luck, mate,” James said on his clumsy way past Sirius with Lily, his girlfriend with the same look on her face. James was aware of Sirius’s crush and he’d told Lily one night when he was drunk and not properly thinking. Clearly Y/N didn’t share the same attraction.

“Why does Y/N hate me?” Sirius demanded when Professor McGonagall dismissed lessons. James and Lily were panting, Remus looking like scarlet and Peter following after some Gryffindor fifth year in a daze. Sirius stayed back to wait for his best mates to catch their breath, giving him a front seat to watching Y/N dart from the room like it was about to bloody blow up. Sirius’s question was directed at Lily, who’d been in the same dorm with Y/N for seven fucking years!

Lily looked hesitant to answer and it wasn’t even the fatigue making answering difficult. “Er, she doesn’t hate you, Sirius,” Lily said, choosing her words carefully. “She just thinks you’re a player.”

“What?!”

“And a prat,” Lily added.

Sirius stared at her in silence.

“Sorry, Sirius,” she said apologetically. “I’ve tried telling her you’re not like that, but she refuses to believe me. Thinks I’m biased now that I’m dating James.”

“Not your fault,” Sirius muttered, his mood now entirely sour, and he wanted to kick something. Or prank the Slytherins. Or jump in the Black Lake.

No, it was Sirius’s fault for being an unapologetic prat.

During Transfiguration the next day, Professor McGonagall told Sirius he’d be Y/N’s partner for opening the Christmas gala.

“What?!” Sirius felt like he was saying that a lot. His heart was going to burst if he kept getting the brunt of horrible news. It was just one surprise after the other, none of them good. “Professor, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I’ve asked Miss L/N and she isn’t opposed, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall said, her tone just daring him to make another claim. “I admit I didn’t expect you to be as excellent a dancer you are, but all things considered, you are the only partner who I think would complement Miss L/N’s level.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Sirius said numbly.

He didn’t feel particularly thankful.

He tried getting Y/N’s attention during dinner that evening but she refused to even look at him.

It seemed Sirius was stuck just sucking up his personal feelings. He hoped his crush on Y/N would disappear by Saturday.

Come the day of the Christmas gala, the castle was again vibrating and buzzing. Students spent the entire day dressing for the occasion, using cosmetic spells to give the illusion of professional application for hair and make-up. Dresses and dress robes were purchased over the course of weeks that led to this day, so students were left to dress and do as they wished with the rest of their appearance. Many students wore hand-me-down attire and Sirius—a disowned-and-proud bloke—was a clear exception having lived with the generous and familial Potters.

He was wearing new black and white dress robes that perfectly suited his lean, even-muscled frame.

He stood in the seventh-year boys’ dorm adjusting his collar, the mirror he and his mates used for knowing how they looked each day charmed to elongate. Sirius was nervous, thinking about what awaited him when he arrived at the Great Hall. James, Remus, and Peter assured him things would turn out fine. He’d have a chance to explain the misconception Y/N had fallen prey to and could change her mind about him. Sirius wasn’t so sure…

But a bloke could hope.

“Ready, boys?” James asked with a smirk, wearing formalwear similar to Sirius’s. The only difference was he’d lost the robe, leaving him in a dress shirt and tight-fitting trousers. Lily would throw a fit over him wearing something outside of dress code but of course, James could get away with anything. He was too charismatic for his own good.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, glancing at him.

Peter had already left to meet with his Hufflepuff date at the door of her common room. Remus was sitting on his bed in chestnut dress robes that had seen better days but looked nice on him. He was looking down at his wrists.

When he felt their gazes on him, he stirred and sat up pin straight. “I’m ready,” he said hastily.

The boys gathered their wits about them and went down to the common room, only one of them feeling confident.

When the boys got down to the bottom of the stairs, James immediately sprung over to a rather beautiful-looking Lily in emerald green to shower her in compliments while Remus and Sirius followed slowly. Y/N was the only other girl in the common room and she was wearing a Y/F/C dress that looked altered to give her form more shape. It was modest by all definitions of the word, but it suited her—it gave her an ethereal beauty that made Sirius want to wince.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Sirius said nicely.

Y/N scrunched her nose up, looking pained. “Thanks, Sirius,” she said.

They gave each other awkward glances while Remus excused him over to say, “Hi,” to Lily.

Eventually, after James was finished worshipping his girlfriend, the group was able to make their way down to the Great Hall.

While James and Lily made quiet conversation making sure to include Remus, Y/N and Sirius were stuck with each other. It was suffocating until Y/N finally broke; “Are you sure you’re okay doing the dance?” she asked him quietly.

Sirius swallowed. Was he okay doing the dance? He’d rather not make her hate him even more but… “Yes,” he said surely.

Y/N looked put out. “Okay,” she mumbled.

If thatdidn’t assure Sirius she wanted nothing to do with him, he wasn’t sure what would.

When they got to the Great Hall, Sirius noticed that several students were standing around outside looking nice and talking to their dates and entourages. Professors were already inside, serving drinks and talking to one another amiably. The decorating outside was scarce but looking inside the Great Hall was a different sight to behold.

The Great Hall was charmed to different icy hues with icicles hanging from overhead, obscuring the sky. It looked like a winter wonderland that’d make anyone stare in awe; the blues and whites made it look like they’d just walked into a cavern in the middle of an ice storm. There were different flowers charmed to look like they sprouted out of the snow and even the tables looked like they were frosted over.

“Wow,” Lily breathed out and Sirius agreed.

Professor McGonagall was hovering in the entrance and she hurried over when she noticed Sirius and Y/N.

“Good, you’re here,” she said, looking them over approvingly. She gestured with her palm, the students noticing and watching. It was just a few minutes before 8, when the gala was meant to be kicked into motion. “Follow me.”

Sirius gave his friends a helpless look before he wandered after Professor McGonagall and Y/N into the room.

Students had made their way, too, and they’d gathered in different corners, grabbing their drinks and refreshments like they weren’t expected to join dancing after Y/N and Sirius opened. Sirius felt envious of the on-watchers, wishing he wasn’t about to be stared down by half the population of Hogwarts… fifth years and up, anyway.

The Frog choir was in the corner, being orchestrated by Professor Claus, the Arithmancy professor. The progression was ready to start, Professor Claus staring at Professor McGonagall in anticipation.

Y/N and Sirius followed her to the middle, hands going where they were meant to wordlessly. Everyone’s eyes were on them, boring into them like lasers. Professor McGonagall wandered over to stand with Headmaster Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling under his spectacles.

Professor McGonagall gestured for Professor Claus to begin. Beautiful polyphonic harmonies arose before silence could settle.

Y/N and Sirius immediately began to dance.

There wasn’t this strange awkward energy the second time around. Y/N’s hands weren’t holding his like they’d separate light-speed fast if given the option, contrary to lessons. She met his gaze and held it, not a trace of animosity as Sirius expected; he couldn’t contain his surprise. His dancing was enthusiastic and passionate, and he was able to pretend she didn’t hate him without that obvious distaste in her eyes; he twirled her and stepped with accurate footwork like he’d danced for years. He didn’t want to look away. He knew she’d run away after this was over and probably pretend he didn’t exist until they graduated next year—she may have hidden her feelings for him easier than she did last time, but her impression of him couldn’t have gone away that fast—so he tried holding onto the moment.

Sirius gripped Y/N’s waist and spun her in the air a third time before the harmonies became more upbeat. Different couples joined them now, including Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Why do you hate me?” Sirius asked now that they weren’t under mass scrutiny any more.

Y/N blinked, losing her focus. She stumbled and fell into Sirius’s arms. “W—I don’t hate you, Sirius,” she said, mumbling a, “Thank you,” as Sirius helped her stand up back onto her own two feet. They began dancing in pace again. “I just—I don’t like how you treat girls. I saw how you were with Marlene last year and she acted like you didn’t mean any of the things you said. I don’t know, I guess it made it see you differently.”

“It’s just some harmless flirting that Marlene knows means nothing,” Sirius defended himself. Marlene was like him: she enjoyed banter. “I never do anything with them. I never did anything with Marlene. And besides, I haven’t flirted since the year began.”

Y/N frowned like she was thinking hard about something. “I didn’t know that…”

Sirius smirked at her and spun her for a fourth time, nearly bumping into a Hufflepuff couple that gave them apologetic looks. “I know where you’re coming from, love,” he said, “but I can assure you, I’m not a ‘player.’”

Y/N cringed. “Lily told you that?” she asked, looking extremely embarrassed.

“After lessons, I asked her,” Sirius said, dodging out of the way of Remus and a Ravenclaw girl who asked him for a dance. “I’ve had my eye on someone for a while… hard to be a player when she’s all I want.”

Y/N looked disappointed, of all things. She bit her lip and said, “Oh.”

Oh.

Sirius full-on grinned. “Is that disappointment I sense?”

“N-No!” Y/N said, but the way she picked up the pace and made his arm almost come out of its socket said different. “I just…”

“What if I said you’rethe girl I’ve had my eyes on?” Sirius said huskily.

Y/N gasped. “You don’t mean that…” First she learned he wasn’t a player and that he wasn’t trying to hurt Marlene and nowhe confessed to fancying her? Sirius knew it sounded strange, even to his own ears. He’d always tried talking to her and being her friend throughout the years. They’d been partners in Potions all of sixth year. She was subdued and shy, his exact personality opposite; it’s what attracted him to her in the first place. “Sirius…”

Sirius stopped in the middle of dancing so he could have the use of both his hands. He cupped Y/N’s cheeks and leaned forward, brushing his lips over hers. “I’m not a player, remember?” He smirked and Y/N was as red as Lily’s hair, if not more. “I have feelings. Feelings for you, specifically. I think it started when we were Potions partners and sailed from there. It hurt thinking you hated me, if I’m honest. But I can only blame myself

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked, her arms snaking around his waist. “I know you’re not a player.”

“Nowyou do,” Sirius said and he tipped her chin up. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Y/N. I’m not like that. I care about you and fancy you more than I can put into words.”

“I… I care about you, too,” Y/N whispered shyly.

They met halfway in a kiss and everyone in Hogwarts was left to watch in shock.

Bonus:

James nudged Lily, pointing over at where Sirius and Y/N were kissing like he’d just seen God. “Bloody Hell, Lily, look! I can’t believe my eyes! I think I’m going mad!”

Lily stopped in the middle of her conversation with Mary and looked over, nearly dropping her drink. “Oh my…” She gaped at the sight.

“This isn’t a chance I’m in the looney bin right now?” James asked rhetorically. At Lily’s frozen-in-motion state, he knew he wasn’t the only one seeing it. He grabbed Lily and dramatically let out a groan. “The world is ending.”

The world was indeed notending. But a world where Y/N and Sirius were incompatible was.

358 notes · View notes

tirednerd2012 · 3 years

Note

Maybe one where Ian and Barley have been kidnapped and they want to hurt Barley, but Ian offers himself in Barley's place so they take him instead? And while they're hurting Ian, Barley breaks free and has to go save him? (I know you've written a lot already, though, so if you want to you can delete this post.)

WARNING: Abusive relationship mentioned.

First off, I will never delete any requests unless it involves something that truly makes me uncomfortable. I'm recovering from some hospital time and I'm bored, so I really don't mind. If anything this is helping me go to sleep. I enjoyed writing this one, though! This AU character I've been working on for a minute for a different series I was thinking about uploading. I was thinking about a quest, but this one came a little easier for me to write. I hope you like it, but if you would like it changed, let me know!

Dammit, Barley thought, as he woke up with a splitting headache. When he tried to get up, he realized he was tied up. That woke him right up and he heard a groaning beside him. Ian.

He looked over and saw his little brother's forehead bleeding slightly. He tried to break free from the ropes, but couldn't. What the hell was going on? What happened last?

"Ian, are you okay?" he asked, but only got another groan. "I'll get us out of here, don't worry."

"I wouldn't be sure about that," a familiar voice said and Barley's blood ran cold. Drew. They broke up about a month prior because Drew wasn't just jealous and controlling, he was dangerous. He would hit Barley when they were arguing, threatened him, did anything to make him feel like Drew had dominance. Barley started to wonder if his mom and brother were safe when his boyfriend was around, and he knew he had to shut that down. He still had nightmares of Drew's hands on his neck when they were fighting one day and Barley was too drunk to defend himself. He hadn't drank since.

Drew was taller than Barley, but not quite as burly as him. Though he didn't look it, he was strong. He could easily overpower Barley when they fought. His dark hair was rare for an elf, and it was one of the things Barley found attractive at the beginning of their relationship.

He should have known this would come back and bite him in the ass.

"Drew, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his cool. His ex came down from the stairs. A basement, Barley realized. They were definitely in a basement.

"I told you, you can't just leave me. You don't get to decide that," Drew snapped. He picked up his knife from the table nearby and put it to Barley's throat. He tried to hide his terror, but he knew he was probably failing.

Him and Ian had been driving in the van. He remembered a crash, but that was it. Did this guy hit them?

"What do you want?"

"For you to suffer, Barley. I tried to give you another chance, but you've tied my hands. I don't know when you thought you had any say so in us, but you didn't. You are nothing. You don't get to chose who loves you," Drew sneered.

"Leave him alone, you jerk," Ian snapped. When did he wake up?

"Ian," Barley said. He never liked Drew, another reason Barley had to end the relationship. He trusted his brother more than anyone.

"Well, well, if it isn't Ian. Truthfully, I had no idea you were in that van, too, but hey, work with what you have, right?" Drew laughs. His attention turned back to Barley, looking at him with cold, blue eyes that sent a chill down the oldest Lightfoot's spine.

Barley told himself this is how he would die.

"Now, Barley, as I was saying, you need to learn a lesson," Drew said, but before he could cut Barley, Ian's voice cut through everything.

"Leave him alone!" Barley never heard such confidence from Ian before. Drew turned away from Barley and focused his attention to his little brother.

"Wow, Ian, never expected this from you. Tell me, what is your goal here? Why should I spare him after everything he did?" Drew asked.

"Because," Ian paused, as if desperately trying to think of anything to save his brother, "because you can do whatever you planned on doing to him to me instead."

"Ian, no! Stop!" Barley ordered, but it was too late.

Drew's eyes fixated on his brother, then back at him. He saw the panic in his eyes. Anyone who knew Barley knew he loved his brother and mother more than anything in the world. He would take any physical punishment over something happening to Ian. And he wasn't in a position where he could act as the protector.

"You know, Ian, for a bright kid, you sure are stupid. But, we can have some fun," Drew said, finally. He cut Ian free, but before he could do anything, he grabbed a fistful of his hair and looked at Barley. "Enjoy your brother's screams, love."

"I'm going to kill you," Barley snapped. His fear faded away and was replaced with anger. He looked at Drew like the most disgusting thing in the world. "Leave him out of this."

"Where's the fun in that?" Drew teased, and then proceeded to drag Ian up the stairs. His brother tried his hardest not to show any sign of pain or weakness, but Barley could feel it anyway. It seemed like the moment that door shut, wherever they were filled with Ian's screams.

"Ian! Ian!" he called over and over. He felt tears pouring down his face, but he didn't care. Ian was in danger. He had taken Barley's punishment. He was paying for a stupid mistake Barley made. He never should have gotten with Drew. It was a fling that turned into something poisonous and deadly.

He continued to struggle with the ropes. He was so angry he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins and he slammed his body against the other side, trying to break free. He would kill Drew.

He heard Ian cry out again and tell Drew to get the hell off him. He heard Drew tell Ian that he should prepare himself because he was just getting started.

Why the hell did he have to take Barley's place? The older looked around the room once more and noticed that Drew left some tools on the table. He probably planned on torturing Barley right here, but saw the opportunity to take Ian from him and knew that would be the worst punishment.

He managed to pull the table forward with his foot and then had to struggle and get a pair of scissors in his hand. It took awhile and Ian cried out more. Drew yelled from upstairs that he was worried about Ian losing blood. He heard him tell Ian to scream all he wanted, no one was around to save him.

"You're going to die alone and then I'm going to let your brother see what I've done. I'll tell him everything right before I kill him slower than I've killed you. I want him to relish your death," Drew said once Ian went quiet. Barley's heart raced faster and he managed to cut the rope. He grabbed the scissors and ran up the stairs. The door was locked, but he busted it down no problem. He saw Drew and Ian in a living room. Ian was covered in blood. His flannel had been taken off and revealed cuts along his body. His jeans were torn and soaked with red.

But Ian was alive. He still managed to set up, but Drew yanked him up and held the knife to his throat. He glared at Barley.

"I told you that you didn't get to leave me," he warned.

"Just leave Ian out of this. Let him go. I'll stay if that's what you want. We can be together again, just leave him alone," Barley said. He would stay here forever if it meant saving Ian's life. All he needed to do was get to the van. He had nectar from a healing flower there. He and Ian grabbed it a few weeks ago during a quest and agreed to save it for an emergency.

"You really are useless, huh? You're a shit son and horrible boyfriend and the one person left in this world that loves you and even admires you, you've failed to protect," Drew said. "I could kill him right now, you know that right? I could slit his throat and that would be that. He would be gone. Could you live with that?"

"You know the answer."

"Exactly. Yet I've been up here, putting a scar on his body for each time you rejected me," Drew said, running the knife along Ian's throat. He was barely awake and couldn't even look at Barley. The older felt like he could be sick. He wanted nothing more than to pull Ian out of this nightmare.

"Drew, please. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it," Barley said. He resisted the urge to bring the scissors out of his pocket.

"You'd be willing to stay here to save him?"

"Yes."

Drew dropped Ian. His abuser for months on end, who manipulated him into doing things he didn't want to, who beat him on multiple occasions, who made him feel like he was absolutely nothing, approached him. For a moment, Barley felt paralyzed. Drew walked over and kissed Barley.

He looked over at Ian and again, his fear turned to rage. Within a moment that Barley found to be a blur, he brought the scissors out and stabbed his ex in the chest. He watched his eyes widen with horror and he collapsed. Then he ran to Ian.

His brother was barely breathing.

"Ian? Ian?" he shook his shoulder. The youngest opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of his brother physically unharmed.

"Barley, are you okay?"

"Really? You're worried about me?" Barley asked through the tears. Ian had been around him too long. He lifted him in his arms and got him outside. Drew towed the van with his old truck. He knew damn well Drew thought this plan out. He wanted to be sure no one knew the boys were missing. He got him to the edge of the van and cried in relief when he found the nectar in the jar without a scratch.

He kneeled beside Ian and forced him to drink. Then he held on to him, whispering how much he loved him, how brave he was and that everything was okay. After a few minutes, the wounds healed, but left several scars that Barley imagined would either be there for awhile or the rest of Ian's life.

"Barley?" the younger asked. Barley cried and hugged him again. "I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted you to be okay."

"You scared me, why would you do that?"

"I love you. I get you want to protect me, but I don't want anything to happen to you either. Especially that guy, I mean, I just wanted him away from you. I didn't care if that meant I got hurt."

"Ian, in all seriousness," Barley said, "never take my place like that again."

"Barley."

"No. I can handle a lot, okay? I can take pain, I'll get through it one way or another. But what I can't handle is someone taking you from me; I can't handle losing you," Barley cut in, his voice betraying him and cracking at the last part. He placed his hands on his shoulders. Both of them still had tears in their eyes. "I-I thought I lost you. I was so scared."

"I know what Drew did to you, Barley. I couldn't let that happen again. If the roles were reversed, we both know you would have done the same."

He pulled his brother into a tight hug. He placed a hand in his hair and held him close.

"All that matters is you're safe. He can't hurt you again."

Barley made himself a promise that he would never let anything hurt Ian again.

#barley lightfoot #ian lightfoot #onward #onward pixar #ian #barley

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masjestickingdom · 4 years

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My Little Secret (Part 3)

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Welcome to the house of torture, where you find yourself struggling to survive.

Note: This is the last installment of “My Little Secret”! It was supposed to be longer (seriously, way longer), but I decided to cut it down. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to upload today. If you haven’t read part 1 or part 2, check them out here or here. Enjoy!

____________________________________________________________________________

It was day two of you living in the house of torture, and the torture began with a simple call. Nothing was more tiring than the constant cries of your morning alarm, but nothing was more frightening than waking up to the screaming ringtone of your phone before your alarm. It was five minutes till five in the morning, and Johnny was calling you--nothing about it was a good sign.

The week before you had temporarily moved into the Jung, Lee, Kim household, Johnny and you were promoted to one of the higher positions in your department, effectively ending your boss-and-subordinate position with Jia and subsequently her frequent calls, which you felt sorry to whomever would take your position. Instead, your calls came from Johnny, who was your partner-in-crime in the company since you two were exclusively the two assistants of Chris, your current boss.

With you groggily forcing yourself up your bed, the phone kept ringing across the room. You were trying that “life hack” of waking up in one try by having your phone away from easily accessible areas around you, but with the surprise calls, you were sure to give up the habit soon.

“What?” you said grouchily into the speaker once you barely made it to your desk.

“Yeesh, I woke the Grinch up,” Johnny responded jokingly.

You wouldn’t have it. “It’s almost five, Johnny. We leave for work at seven.”

Cue the dramatic list of things you had to do that day, commencing your wonderful morning of your second day in the house that wasn’t yours. That was just a small appetizer of the horrors of your mornings there. They were nothing in comparison to your nights when you would return to the sweet smell of whatever dish Doyoung or Jaehyun were cooking but couldn’t afford to eat with the work you had to do. They paled in comparison to your lonely nights up in the kitchen, fetching water while looking over some thick files in the dimly-lit kitchen. They were a speck of dust in comparison to the nights when you actually had the time to sleep, yet you couldn’t. You would lie awake in bed, drowning yourself in a whirlpool of the same thoughts. What kind of thoughts? Surprisingly, none of them had to do with your work. No, you were sick of it. Rather, they were the kind of thoughts that involved the certain man sleeping in the next room.

Caught up with work, it wasn’t hard to swallow your feelings about Jaehyun whenever you two were in the same room, an occurrence that was rare with your crazy schedule and Jaehyun’s focus on Jaehyung. Sometimes, you would wonder why your sister suggested that you filled in her spot while she was away when all you would do was work even in the house.

Days rolled by quicker than you expected, and they were unsurprisingly unpleasant. You were able to suppress your feelings for Jaehyung to some degree and could hold conversations with him, building the foundation of your guys’ relationship as in-laws. You even initiated the conversations sometimes. But all that just reminded you that you couldn’t have him, and it was killing you.

Soon, it was the second to last day at the house, and you (thankfully) had the day off. You had told Jaehyun the night before to relax so that you could start taking care of Jaehyung more, but the kind father refused. So there you were on the couch, watching Jaehyung’s favorite movie with everyone else in the living room. It was one of the rare moments when Jaehyung stayed quiet, his eyes watching the screen with so much anticipation that you wanted to pinch his cheeks. You didn’t, of course, since you didn’t want to pull him out of his zone. Instead, you focused your attention to the movie, which you admittedly thought was entertaining

Lunch rolled by like a breeze and Jaehyung was sound asleep in his room. Before you knew it, you were back in your room on your laptop, looking over the interview Johnny had with one of the most renowned artists of the digital age even though it was your day off.

“Johnny, I think you can send it to Chris,” you spoke into your speaker, making small commentary on a few slides. “It looks great.”

Despite giving him the okay sign to proceed with the presentation, you sensed that there was hesitation on the other line.

“What?” you asked, an ugly feeling clawing into you. “What’s wrong?”

Another moment of silence sunk in before Johnny dropped the bomb. “Chris also told me that Jack’s manager called.”

You drew a sharp breath inward. “No.”

From your friend’s visibly frustrated sigh, you could only imagine your boss’ deeply furrowed eyebrows. “Don’t tell me he canceled.”

“He said something about schedule conflicts.”

There was no better word than exasperation to describe how you felt. Jack was someone everyone from Asia to North America knew. He was the guy that everyone wanted to get an interview of--he always turned offers down. Somehow, Chris managed to get a hold of his manager and arranged a meeting for both an interview and a photoshoot, but there was always an unspoken tension that whispered an ominous message that Jack would cancel. The main story for your November issue was now empty.

“That jackass,” you murmured under your breath as you furiously typed a message to Chris on your phone. “With two days from the shoot he’s bailing? Unbelievable.”

“Chris already said that there was nothing we could do about it,” Johnny said, stopping you from your impetuous typing. “So don’t request that we call Jack’s manager again.”

“We can’t just let this egoistic man do whatever he pleases,” you huffed furiously. “Our entire team has been working day and night for this, and the one day we’re let to rest is the day he decides to suddenly say that he won’t be cooperating. The audacity of this man to cancel two days before the shoot is unacceptable. Just who on Earth does he think he is?”

By the time you were done ranting, you were already seated on the edge of your bed, pulling up your socks.

“A worldwide superstar,” Johnny candidly replied to your rhetorical question.

“Well he obviously needs a wake-up call,” you grumbled. “Can you send me his address?”

Rummaging through your bag in an effort to find your keys, you heard Johnny say, “You don’t even know if he’ll be there.”

“So I’ll camp out.”

At that statement, Johnny decided against picking up a fight. He knew better than to have you get riled up even more. You were on your way out when Jaehyun came out of his room with Mark and asked where you were going.

“Work,” you said over your shoulder before swiftly leaving the house before anyone could say anything else.

“Isn’t it her day off?” Mark uttered when he recovered from the fact that you had just gotten away in a blink of an eye. “It’s a national holiday.”

With a frown, the taller man stared at the door. “Jaehyung was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her.”

“Maybe she’ll come back soon.”

It was midnight by the time you had personally convinced Jack to take part in the interview and photoshoot. You had waited in your car for six hours in front of his house, hoping that each car that passed by belonged to Jack. At the second hour mark, Johnny joined you in the waiting session, originally there to tell you that you were crazy until he gave in. For half an hour, Jack refused to let you in. He thought you were a fan at first, but even after you cleared the misinterpretation, he still refused to let you in, let alone be the main story of the magazine. It didn’t matter if the wind was frosting your hands or freezing your ears: you had to convince Jack. After waiting outside at his gates for another four hours, you successfully got the conceited man to let you in for only five minutes.

“You’re seriously crazy,” Johnny breathed out into the cold night the moment you two stepped out of Jack’s house. “You’re a crazy lady.”

A huge smile was planted on your lips as you closed the gates behind Johnny.

“We did it,” you said, almost whispering. “We did it.”

Engulfing you in a warm hug, Johnny patted your back and gave you a squeeze. “You did it.”

You laughed joyously and swayed your bodies side-to-side, returning Johnny’s actions, and when you let go of him, you immediately squealed and jumped around like a two-year old.

“We got Jack!” you shouted excitedly, twirling across the street. “We did it!”

It probably wasn’t the best idea to run around the streets at midnight when you were exhausted from waiting because on the way to your sister’s house, you were yawning every passing second and almost fell asleep at each red light you encountered. Making it across the lawn wasn’t an easy task either with the wind forcefully pushing away from entering. It was a quarter till one in the morning when you opened the front door, greeted by your brother-in-law from the kitchen. You weakly waved at him, but were too tired to bother starting a small conversation with him. You couldn’t even hear the man ask you whatever he asked, not even your name. All you could do was stare at your moving legs, which seemed to move on a mind of their own as they moved past the shoe room, and watch your world turn black.

...

“No, Johnny was there with me,” Doyoung heard you say while he flipped the waffle maker over the stove. “Yeah, I’m glad we didn’t cancel everything.”

“Jesse?” he called out, leaning his head back to see you reach out for the doorknob.

“Don’t worry!” you responded, waving to him briefly. “I’ll be back before dinner!”

And you were gone like that. At the sound of the door shutting, a certain someone with a long pair of joggers and a white t-shirt appeared from the basement.

“Was that Mark?” he asked in a husky voice, slipping into one of the dining chairs.

When Doyoung revealed that it was you, the man immediately shot up from his chair and rushed to the windows. Sure enough, you were speedily walking across the street, busily talking to someone on the phone.

Catching you while you were knocked out was the last thing Jaehyun had imagined he would be doing earlier that morning. He was so concerned that you wouldn’t return home that he stayed up all night, wandering back and forth from the living room to his room, so he almost lost it when you fell into his arms. No matter how many times he called out your name, you wouldn’t wake up. Crouched on the ground with you cradled in his arms, he watched you soundly breathe in and out with a relieved expression. Gathering his strength, he stood on his feet and lifted you up in bridal style, taking you to your room as quietly as he could. While he tucked you under the covers, he watched you go off into dreamland peacefully, which oddly made him feel at ease. As he brushed away a few stray strands of hair from your face and observed your soft but dominant facial features, a strong wave of discovery hit him like a rock. His pulse began to pick up, and he was no longer at ease. But what he did was simple: he left an unopened box of aspirin and a water bottle next to your phone, which he carefully placed on the bedside table. When you left the house without a notice, he went into your room and saw the aspirin tray peeking out of its box and the water bottle three-quarters full. A smile unknowingly rested on his face.

Later that night, when you returned well past dinner time, you went straight to your room, passing the meal that was left for you on the dinner table and calling Jia.

“That’s great,” you told her through the phone, plopping down onto your chair. “Tell Emma that we’re expecting her entire team there, too.”

A small repetition of knocks shortly followed and seeing who it was at the door, you quickly hung up on Jia and swiveled your chair around.

“What’s up?” you greeted the man of your dreams, watching him take great strides towards your bed. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t,” he replied simply, situating himself comfortably on top of your big covers.

Turning around back to your computer, you attempted to force down the intense emotions that were resurfacing. With the handsome man showing up in casual joggers and a simple t-shirt, an outfit that looked damn fine on him, you had to mentally slap yourself to come back to your senses. But they kicked back in an instant when he called, “Jesse.”

At the sound of your name melodiously leaving the lips of Jaehyun, you restrained yourself from looking at him.

“I’m listening,” you said, searching for a lost document in the sea of mess known as your desktop.

A short-lived second of crickets passed before he said, “Shouldn’t you be taking a break from work?”

With your eyes busily scanning for the file, you answered monotonously, “I already did when we were watching the movie yesterday.”

“You came back at one yesterday,” he urged in a more pressing voice. “Jaehyung was waiting for you.”

That got you to stop what you were doing. You hated it when you let down Jaehyung, and you didn’t need to be reminded of your constant shortcomings.

“I’ll see him first thing in the morning,” you said barely above a whisper.

“Jesse, look at me.”

Those four simple words were all it took for your heart to skip a beat. A small tugging of your heart began, the tug you felt during your sleepless nights. Silently sighing, you prepared yourself to set your eyes on the most beautiful man. Of all your years working and facing severely bad days, the hardest challenge in your life was to look at Jaehyun straight in the eye. Nothing competed the concerned gaze he gave you. Absolutely nothing.

Giving yourself another mental slap, you returned his seriousness with a flat, naive look. When he took a step forward, beginning his advancement towards you, you focused your nervous, excited energy on your toes, squeezing them. With a few feet in between you two, he settled on your desk and held your gaze with so much intensity that you had to blink.

“Don’t you think you’re working too much?”

Your brows instantly furrowed. “What?”

“You’re giving up your personal time and social life to work when you don’t have to.”

Despite Jaehyun’s soft, cautious tone, you felt attacked and alert: the man you loved thought you had no social life.

“I do have a social life,” you argued, returning your gaze back to the screen to break the horrific feeling sinking into your stomach. “You just don’t know it.”

“Jesse.”

The smooth, fragile fingers of the man spread warmth throughout your body when he touched your arm. The sound of your heart beating grew louder and louder, your face, in contrast, stoic as a rock. You had no idea how to react. The man’s hand was on your arm! It was even squeezing your arm for a quick second.

“I’m saying this for your better interest.”

You couldn’t register anything he was saying; your attention was taken away by his hand. It was as smooth as silk compared to your rough, unmoisturized hands. Thankfully, it wasn’t too long when an idea occurred to you. You strategically leaned into your chair, naturally (and regrettably) pulling your arm away from the man’s touch.

You cleared your throat and gathered the courage to face him eye-to-eye. “So I work overtime sometimes. What’s wrong with that?”

“When was the last time you enjoyed a full day off?” When a grilling number of silent seconds ensued, he continued, “You always couldn’t make it to our dinner invitations and left Jaehyung bummed out.”

The butterflies began to subside when a new, more vivid feeling arose.

“I’m sorry, but the truth is that I work for something that needs my constant attention,” you said, your eyes darkening.

His eyes dug deep into you, insisting you to think again. At that point, you were slowly getting frustrated. How could you bear the atrocity of him belonging to someone else while caring for you like that? You hated how you felt.

“Why do you care?” you shot, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it did. “I get that I’m Janet’s sister and Jaehyung’s aunt, but I don’t need you to feel obligated to care just because of my connection with them.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn for his eyebrows to knit together. “As a friend, I think that it’s not good for you to always be overworked.”

You snapped. “Don’t give me that crap, Jaehyun!”

You felt a part of yourself fall at the crestfallen expression that formed on Jaehyun’s face, but you were still pissed at how he made you feel stupid and giddy inside even though he wasn’t yours.

“Since when were we friends?” you striked. “We only know each other because of Janet!”

With an incredulous expression, Jaehyun exclaimed, “So all this time you initiated a conversation or smiled at me was not because we were friends but because you felt obligated to?” He stood up from the desk in fury and stepped forward. “I couldn’t sleep because I cared about you and was worried that you wouldn’t come back! You know why? Because you never come back! Not even on the holidays!”

You pushed onward and pointed your finger at his chest. “You’re the one who feels obligated to treat me the way you do! You’re the one who feels the need to look out for me just because I’m Janet’s younger sister! Did I ask you to set me up with Jungwoo? No! Did I ask you to stay up for me? No! So stop making me feel so damn bad when I already feel like I’m at rock bottom for treating Jaehyung the way I have!”

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice the lack of proximity between you two. Your mind was running with furious thoughts, not giving you a chance to cool down. But the sudden change in Jaehyun’s expression broke the angry momentum: his face had fallen back to a broken manner. You watched his eyes stare into yours, waiting for something you didn’t know what you were waiting for. It was a matter of moments when his mouth slightly parted and spilled something you wish you could unhear.

“The only reason why I look out for you is because I have feelings for you.”

There went the sound of your heart pounding harder than ever with the rush of adrenaline spreading throughout your body. A chilling breeze ran down your spine as you watched Jaehyun wait for your reaction with pained eyes, causing you to step backwards, away from the taken man.

“No, no you don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Take that back. You don’t mean that. You don’t.”

Your breathing rapidly fastened. Your palms became sweaty. The room felt suffocating. Jaehyun remained where he was--until you took in his honest self for one last time and left him for the bathroom, where you sat in the corner and let the tears you hadn’t let out for years trickle down your exhausted face. By the time you returned to your room, he was gone.

The next morning, you vanished from the house, leaving Jaehyung the presents you intended on giving him when your sister arrived next to his bed. You remembered the day you went shopping with Jaehyung and Jaehyun, secretly looking for their presents. You remembered how happy Jaehyung was to be running in the big mall. Most of all, you remembered Jaehyun’s sweet voice and his fatherly smile. You threw his present in the trash can.

There was no trace of you left in the house of torture except for the food you left uneaten. When you closed the front door behind you, you cut off the string to the red thread that you had hung on for so long. But what you didn’t know was that the man in joggers and white t-shirt had grabbed on, holding on for dear life. You started the engines to your car and drove off in the dark streets. You were still fumbling to hold the red thread, trying to grab onto the falling pieces.

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thethousandyearwitch · 4 years

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The Show Must Go On! - A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 1

FF.net link - AO3 link

Beep Beep. beep Beep. Click

8:00 am. Hisoka rolled over in his queen-sized bed, groaning at the interruption of his beauty sleep. Setting an early alarm after editing until 2 am was a horrible idea.

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and rolls onto his back, following his ritual of checking all his notifications in the morning. The video he had uploaded after editing was well received, many comments about how he should try more looks with purple eyeshadow. About 3 years ago he had started his channel “Bubblegumbitch Makeup” as more of a throwaway joke after someone insulted his makeup on Instagram. However, an audience grew quite quickly, and Hisoka had to admit that he enjoyed the attention and luxury of it all. Making money by sitting in front of a camera and applying Makeup while people tell you how good looking you are is a great ego boost.

Half-heartedly he scrolled through his subscription feed, just to see what his competition was up to, though barely anyone had really uploaded during the night. Amateurs and their 'healthy' sleep schedules. A true influencer knows that an audience never sleeps.

He disregarded his phone somewhere into the pile of pillows that make up his bed and made his way into the bathroom. His morning showers are more functional than enjoyable, quickly rinsing on whatever spirits of sleep may linger on him.

After that, the Makeup artist applied his usual morning creams, body lotion, towel dries his hair, and threw on a pair of grey low-waist sweats and a comfortable white razor-back shirt. Need. Coffee.

Hisokas flat was a quaint little thing just outside of Rieti. An open imitation marble kitchen, facing the living room equipped with a black leather couch and wall mounted flat screen TV, opening to a relatively small balcony housing a few plants.

Exiting his bedroom, he grabbed the TV remote and switched unto a random morning news show, just needing background noise while he waits for his coffee to brew.

"And preparations are running wild for the annual Fashion Week in Rome. This year the line-up features many new promising designers from all over the globe. Tune in at 10 for more-"

The fashion week! Hisoka grinned, having nearly forgotten about this important event that he had always followed closely. Though rarely attending himself, he had been requested on multiple occasions as a make-up artist for certain models. But there was something more important connected to that special week. He grabbed his fresh cappuccino and strolled back to his room, fishing his phone from the depths of pillow mountain.

"Hisoka: Gooooood Morning! Roma's Fashion Week is coming up, are you going to stop on by? ~"

It didn’t take long before his phone chimed with the familiar Ping of a private Message.

“Bellissimo <3: I will be going to the Show for 4 days. If it proves convenient, I’d drop by for a short collaboration.”

“Hisoka: I’ll be keeping my bed warm~♥️”

“Bellissimo<3: Gross and unnecessary. I will book a room in my usual hotel in Rome. I’ll drop by for the Collaboration on Monday afternoon, and leave after.”

“Bellissimo<3: I will send you some sample pieces later, please come up with a look for one of them, and don’t just ‘wing it’ like last time.”

Hisoka giggled before disregarding his phone again. Illumi Zoldyck, breakthrough Fashion Designer from England, and eldest son of Zoldyck fashion magazine empire, who often uploaded videos of his artistic process on his channel “I. Zoldyck Fashion”. They had met 2 years ago, at a smaller Paris fashion show, the first one Hisoka ever attended. A model had requested Hisoka as her makeup artist, while Illumi had been working on a dress for her, and the two of them ended up working closely together to properly coordinate colours with each other. And though Illumi expressed great annoyance with Hisoka, they exchanged numbers, and started to make collab videos whenever they fell into the same place. Something about working together with Illumi got Hisokas heart racing. Seeing the camera-shy man get increasingly more frustrated with his antics was a joy that could hardly be topped.

But he didn’t have time to dwell in good memories and spine-tingling anticipation. He had work to do. And so once again he chucked his phone back into the pillow-cave system and made his way into his recording room.

It was a small office space, on one side an office Desk with a Desktop Computer, a couple of small succulent plants framing it, and a comfy black office chair. On the other side a set-up to record videos, with a white-pink gradient wall, a stainless white desk with a small mirror standing on it, and a less-comfy stool to sit on. In a smooth motion, Hisoka downed the rest of his coffee, set the cup aside, and started the camera. The night before he had laid out everything for his next video, a review for a new eyeshadow palette released by another Beauty Youtuber, still trying to get into the game. How Cute.

Hisoka clapped his hands together, putting on his best camera smile. “Hey, Scum! ~ Today I have a very special treat for you all. I got my hands on the new Togari Palette ‘Hunting for Your Dreams’, his first release.” He held up the shimmering silver case and opened it up for the camera to reveal 6 eyeshadows in various shades of orange and red. About half an hour and a couple try hard glamour shots later, Hisoka dropped the Palette with a grin, staring directly into the Camera. In addition to his signature Star and Teardrop under his eyes, he had attempted to imitate a flame-inspired eyeshadow look. “Well, this has been an absolute disaster. I feel like I’m losing clumps of eyeshadow every time I blink, and it feels sandy and irritating on my skin. But you have got to give it to Togari: I have never seen a Palette that features colours that are eye-biting and yet completely bland before. Though the surprise gift of a long, brown hair inside the sealed Palette wasn’t for me. But you know, if you see these Palettes in your local bargain bin, I’d say go for it.” He gave a cheeky wink, before rattling off his usual goodbyes, like and subscribe, yadda yadda.

Click.

Hisoka took the camera and set it by his computer. Before he could even think about editing, he must wipe away whatever the hell was in that shabby palette. Of course it wasn’t the worst make-up he had ever worn; it probably wouldn’t even make it in the bottom 10, he wasn’t here to make friends and spoon-feed his competition compliments. If a creator dares to churn out a subpar product, they have to deal with the consequences.

After practically subjecting himself to water torture via make-up remover towels, the man grabbed another whiteclaw from the fridge, and settled into his office chair. Digging through business emails was a boring, repetitive task, deleting promo-email after promo-email, practically begging him to promote some skin-care vitamins or boring phone app. Clicking the nails of his free hand against his desk, he tapped away at the delete button in a rhythm only known to him.

Finally reaching the bottom of his inbox, he switched to his private Inbox with a satisfied smile, an expected email already waiting for him. “From: I. Zoldyck: Roma Fashion Week Promos”. To my private Email, dear Illumi? How shockingly Intimate~ Hisoka mocked in his head while opening the mail.

“Hisoka.

Attached are 3 Designs I plan to show off at the show. Chose one for the collaboration and let me know in time.

Sincerely,

Illumi Zoldyck.”

Under his signature, 3 files were lined up, boringly titled “Design Roma 1/2/3”. Hisoka opened the first file and is greeted by a 2-piece suit with a light pink base colour, and blue-green flower highlights that frame the pockets and seams of the jacket, and the belt of the pants. Not bad, not bad.

The second file contained another 2-piece suit, this time with a black base colour, and a repeating roman-vase pattern in eye-catching blues, pinks, and oranges. Lovely pattern, and what a revealing jacket cut~. He was sure he had found his favourite, already planning a matching make-up look. But it wouldn’t hurt looking at the last design for pity, right?

Hisoka audibly gasped in a mixture of shock and flattery and laid a hand over his heart to complete the star performance. Staring back at him was a beautiful white-jeans design, patterned with colourful card-suits dotting the jacket and pants. The pattern was ever so slightly washed out, faking a vintage look. This is it. Mine. His heart was beating through his chest, and for the first time in a while he was truly speechless.

He had 3 more weeks until the show, but his mind was already bursting with inspiration, and when he later laid in bed, he couldn’t contain his grin as he texted.

“Hisoka: You already know which one im choosing~♥️♥️♥️”

--------------------------------------------

Gon had been streaming for a good hour or so, talking excitedly to his chat about the new Season of Fortnite, admiring new skins that he was definitely going to try and get. Every new pass just meant a new challenge for him to prove himself, and it was undeniable that it was satisfying to work and game hard to get what he wanted. Just as he was about to ask chat if he should go another row, or change games for the night, a discord message drew his attention away.

“Kil: Yo, wanna team up? :p”

Filled with even more excitement, Gon returned his attention back to his stream. “Everyone, today we are going to feature a special guest!”

#Hisoillu #killugon #Hunter X Hunter #fanfiction #hxh fanfic

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cyberdva · 4 years

Text

Lost Grieving- Richie Tozier X Reader {Chapter 2☆}

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Summary- The reader gets stuck in strange implications and finds herself in Derry, Maine, the location of the infamous Steven King book ‘IT’. Unknowingly she stumbles across the Neibolt House, the dirty and burnt remains of a tragic fire. She remembers what horrors had happened and is hesitant to stay. What will happen when she runs into the one and only Losers Club? What will they do if the strange new girl claiming to be from another universe, tells them they’re all made up characters from a book? Will she help them ‘defeat’ the morbid Pennywise or give up and be lost in perishable hell forever, filled with lost grieving. Proceed with caution when you drive into this tale of horror, humor, and a handful of twisted romance with Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier.

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Main Masterlist

IT Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (+)

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded: 11/05/19

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I have so many ideas for headcannons and imagines that I’ve been just spitballing them out. I apologize for that, but anyways enjoy the new chapter! Send in any requests or ideas for the story, I’m in the mood for writing and I’m off for the rest of the week.

Warnings and Notes: Cursing and Excerpts from Stephen King’s IT Novel

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“Are you ok?” Eddie began to slow down, we ran as fast as we could. I felt bad for him, he has no idea what was going on. At least I had a basic understanding. He was really pale and it looked as if he could barely breathe. Oh, he has asthma! Wouldn’t he already have his inhaler out or something?

“Yeah, I’m fine. You’re really pale, are you going to faint?

“I think so, but I’m more concerned with the fact that you aren’t freaking out about that clown!” He spat out. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Eddie spoke at the speed of light, no one ever understood him. I had a pit in my stomach, it pulsed whenever I thought of It. I want to go home.

I looked down, trying to piece together what to say, “Oh I’m terrified, I really think I’m dreaming.” The boy went shuffling through his red fanny pack.

“Why would you be dreaming? I’m not dreaming?

I sighed, “It’s a long story,” and I’ll have time to tell it to him when it comes.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Eddie sputtered his body spurred to the side of the road, his hands covered his face. I awkwardly stood in front of him as my own nausea came up to battle. I collapsed next to him and we said nothing to each other.

“We need to find Bill.” he huffed. It looked as if his small body caved in on itself.

Bill Denbrough. He was their ‘leader’ or that’s how he was perceived in the books. I never really liked his character, but I felt horrible for what happened with Georgie. I felt bad for all of them. Their lives got swept away by that clown and the poster-child victim of this is sitting right next to me. I really hope this is a dream, what if I don’t go home? There’s no way I could be a foster child, that system is still fucked in the present. I can’t imagine what it could be like here.

“Where does he live?” I had no clue on what I was supposed to do, I’m not even relevant in this plot. What I do know is that I have to get a panicked Eddie over his friend’s house.

“Two streets down. Will you come with me, please? I don’t want to get killed by that clown. I lost my inhaler and my mom is going to freak.” his breathing became rigid. It was catching up with the pace of his talking, which was quite fast. His panting swallowed up all his words. In the story his medicine was fake. Now I was in a conundrum.

Do I tell him or not? It was such a turning point for him, even though he relapsed later on in his life, I think.

“Hey just breathe.” I almost patted his back, but my hand just wavered above him. Eddie tried to hack out a sarcastic reply. His fear got the best of him.

“Oh my gosh, please Eddie just breathe. I don’t care about your inhaler. We’ll get one at Bill’s or something.” He gasped for a gulp of air and shook. After a couple more times his lungs settled and sat in shock.

“How did that work? That never worked without my inhaler! Are you a witch or something?” Eddie wanted to do nothing but run as fast as he could away from that stranger that he found at a crack house. His mother always told him he was sick, he was. What just happened was physically impossible. ‘What if she was working for that clown?’, he thought. “She might not even be real for god’s sake!” Eddie couldn’t think straight.

I was beginning to think I was a witch, there is no physical way I could be here. I had next to none proof that I’m from the future, a different dimension at that. Except for my backpack. I always had sections for unused papers, a bigger chunk for History and English work. There were just a few things that fell through from my desk, but not much. Bingo. My old History article about Democratic and Republican debates. Photos, photos of the President. I did have proof! I just need the right time to bring it up.

“I dunno, my friend has asthma and that works for her.” Lies, I knew that would never work. Eddie would have to be a fool to ever believe that.

“Where are you from? I never heard of that treatment before, especially not from any doctor,”

“Nevermind that, we need to get going.” Nice playoff Y/N. We both headed down the small sidewalk in the brisk afternoon. As we passed the broken down Derry Trainyard the faint scream of a teenage boy filled the surrounding forest. My dress began to hike up my legs and clump by my backpack. Minutes went by when we walked down the unfamiliar streets.

Another deep screech was released, “What the hell was that?” I jumped after it was quiet, our eyes darted around. No one could be seen as the echo still remained. A groomed bush next to us started to shake unnaturally.

“What the fu-” Eddie stumbled back, like a baby learning their first steps. The greenery was torn to its sides by a lengthy boy. The pale thing launched at Eddie and almost stomped right on his arm.

“Hi-ya Eds! Didn’t know your mom let you hang out with girls, especially pretty ones.” He grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him to his feet. The boys stood head to torso. The height difference was kind of funny. Who even is that kid? I think he’s part of the club. Eddie seems to know him.

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Richard Tozier turns off the radio, which has been blaring out Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” on WZON (a station which declares itself to be “Bangor’s AM Stereo rocker! With a kind of hysterical frequency), pulls over to the side of the road, shuts down the engine of the Mustang the Avis people rented him at Bangor International, and gets out. He hears the pull and release of his own breath in his ears. He has seen a sign which has caused the flesh of his back to break out in the hard ridges of gooseflesh.

He walks to the front of the car and puts on hand on its hood. He hears the engine ticking softly to itself as it cools. He hears a jay scream briefly and then shut up. There are crickets. And as far as the soundtrack goes, that’s it.

He has seen the sign, he passes it, and suddenly he is in Derry again. After twenty-five years Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier has come home.

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“Bonjour Mademoiselle, I’m Richie!” he bowed.

Oh.”What the fuck is wrong with him?” I choked. Eddie stifled a laugh.

“Many things,” he replied. “Anyways, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new? Or like a homeschool?”

‘A homeschool’, isn’t he supposed to be smart or something? I’m starting to remember him. Richie was the jokester and my personal favorite character. This oughta be fun!

“I don’t know where I am.” After ages, I pushed down my dress in an attempt at a good impression.

“What do you mean?”

“I woke up underneath the welcome sign and found that broken-down house.”

The two stared at me, ”No, but seriously where are you from?”

“I’m telling the truth! Wait… I have proof!” I seized my bag and heaved it open. Small folders with homework were inside, along with other items that made it through with me.

I grabbed the green History folder filled with stray Newsela articles about Politicians and the President. I pulled one out about a Democratic and Republican debate. A bright picture of all the candidates with a date from September 2019 slapped right under the headline.

“Here this is from my school, in 2019.” It was the least believable thing I have ever said in my life. I internally cringed and just tossed the papers, along with the folder for good measure. If that doesn’t convince them I don’t know what will, even better, I got a watch. Not just any watch, one of the fancy ones with apps and music stuffed all into one. It’s perfectly packed right into my bag’s front pouch.

“What does the photo represent?” Eddie asked, he pointed to the red and blue stage and Richie glanced at the article about Donald Trump.

“It’s a debate abou-”

Richie jumped in, ”Why is orange?”

“I don’t know.”

“There has to be a reason for it.”

“Shut up Richie.”

“You shut up Eddie. Who cares, I want to figure out who she is.”

“Guys, come on.”

A car came jolting down the street. The driver… wasn’t there. All that was in the windshield was a blood-red balloon, not a person in sight. I screamed along with Eddie, Richie didn’t have any reaction. Richie snatched back my folder and scooted onto the pavement.

I couldn’t bring myself to move, I’m not part of this story, yet I can’t leave. Frail arms yanked me away just as the car whisked past. A crunch was all that was left of the vehicle, it disappeared in a flash. The remains of my crushed green backpack drew me to tears.

“Holy shit my watch is broken!” I sobbed. My last figment of proof.

Eddie flung his hands, “Is no one going to say ANYTHING about the car!?”

“We need to go find Bill.”

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#richie tozier imagines #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie toizer x reader #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it #fandom #fanfiction #the losers club #fanfic

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takadasaiko · 4 years

Text

Love Me Twice: Chapter Four

FFN II AO3

Chapter Summary: An op pits Jacob against an old enemy, but when a client will only take the best, Gina volunteers him for the job.

Chapter Four

April 2020

The squeal of the train's breaks sounded their approach to the platform as a prim voice announced their imminent arrival and warned commuters to mind the gap. Jacob Phelps adjusted a leather messenger bag on his shoulder, the opposite arm occupied by a pretty young woman with dyed blonde hair and striking green eyes. "Don't be nervous," she said, her tone so light it was almost teasing. "Daddy's going to love you."

Jacob let a small, hesitant smile quirk his lips. "I'm not nervous."

"You're such a bad liar," she laughed as the train pulled up to the platform and the doors opened.

"I am," Jacob lied, risking a glance at his mark. Emily Atwood, thirty-years-old and the only child of the aging CEO of a British conglomerate that he'd been hired to steal data from. It had taken nearly a month of groundwork, but only a couple of weeks once he'd actually made contact with her. She thought he was Jack Tallert, an accountant that had recently been transferred to his firm's London branch.

She was an easy enough mark. Trusting and head over heels for the man she thought he was. It would have been enough to almost make him feel guilty if he ever got invested enough to feel much at all on an op. He let the part he was playing take over and natural charisma and training did their equal parts to get him where he needed to go. He'd always been good at it, even before St Regis, but Bud had helped him hone a skillset that had put him at the top of his class. Thankfully a decade's worth of missing memories hadn't dampened that too much, even if it had left him with a desperate need to fill in his gaps of knowledge that anyone around him would know.

Emily tugged him forward from the train and they started up towards the street above. She chattered away about their dinner plans and if they should see a movie that weekend. Or a play. She'd prefer a play. They had a lovely cast for…

Jacob nodded at all the right moments, picking up on key words but otherwise focused on the plan as they stepped out into the cool spring afternoon. The client that had hired him needed a set of plans that were being tightly guarded by the company's security. No one under the fortieth floor even knew that the product was on the horizon, and no one under the fiftieth had access to the details mapped out to make it happen. Emily's father would have them on his computer, certainly, but that was risky. Daniel Atwood's personal assistant should have them too. She had been Jacob's original in for direct access, but it didn't take a lot of research to find out that he was nother type. She would be out to lunch - a very nice lunch with her girlfriend that Jacob has pulled a discrete favour to make happen - so no one would be there to watch her computer. His cell phone was already set to connect with her laptop from the office next to hers, so all he had to do was keep the conversation going while the tech did the heavy lifting. If he played his cards right he'd be on a flight Stateside in just a few hours.

"What do you think?"

The words pulled him out of his thoughts and Jacob blinked hard. "That's a…. good idea?" he tried.

Emily smiled sweetly at him and reached forward, adjusting the collar on his overcoat. "I promise it's going to be just fine. Don't believe everything you hear about him on the telly."

"I've got you with me. What could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit." She tipped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before letting her hand slide down into his and tugging him into the building after her.

-------

McCready had always had a strict radio silence rule. No contact until the op was finished. If you broke that rule, it better be mission critical or he'd burn you faster than you could start stuttering out your excuse.

The reasoning behind the rule had been proven time and again over the years, and it was one that Gina hadn't seen any benefit in changing during her four years that she had been leading St Regis now. Funny, even after she'd proven she wasn't someone to be trifled with, there was always the one idiot that thought he was different. That thought he could push her around. That's what brought her to moments like this one.

April in New York City could bring snow or sun, but that particular Thursday morning it was somewhere in between. She sat at a table in Union Square Park, tablet in hand. Jacob would have teased her for it, saying that if she were a spy worth her salt it would have been a newspaper. She couldn't fully blame him. It wasn't his fault he was a decade behind the times, not that he would have made the choice if he wasn't. He'd always been a fan of old spy tropes.

A scream for a doctor drew Gina's attention and she looked up to see what the crowd around her saw: a congressman home from DC's walk in the park with his wife turned dangerous as he clutched at his chest, hunched over to the point that he was melting towards the ground. She watched as people circled around, finally closing off her view. People were on their phones. Some were calling for help, others hoping for their five seconds of fame once they uploaded the video to whatever platform they thought would get the most views or get snatched up by one of the 24-hour news networks to play again and again until something more interesting came along. The congressman would never make it to the hospital, though. That's what he got for breaking protocol.

She put her tablet to sleep and leaned down to fit it back into her bag, ready to make her exit. When she straightened, though, she wasn't alone at her table. A woman had claimed the seat across from her, utterly unphased by the drama taking place a few yards away, and her icy blue stare was fixed on Gina.

The woman was thin, red hair fighting the grey that should have stolen the colour at this point in life, and well dressed. She tilted her head a little to the side, studying Gina carefully. "You don't look bothered."

"Neither do you," Gina answered, slipping easily into a New York accent.

A very small smile tilted the corners of the newcomer's lips, amused, but her gaze remained sharp. "Your accent's good."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do. Let's not waste time."

Gina felt a nudge against her boot under the table and she risked a glance down to see that the woman had pushed a backpack towards her. "They don't like unattended bags here. Makes people nervous."

"I'd say you better check it out then."

She was playing a game, that much was obvious, but something in Gina could respect that. It wasn't just anyone that could sneak up on her, especially on high alert. This woman had been in the game, even if she wasn't currently. She knew what she would find in the bag even before reaching under the table for it. Her fingers ghosted along the stacked bills and she let her own lips quirk upward, her accent slipping back to her own. "Are you trying to propension me?"

"Absolutely. I want your best man for a job."

"I don't know you."

"You don't know most of your clients. That's why you vet people." The woman held a card between two fingers and Gina read the name Brigitte Tremblay in scrawled text. "Take a look - deep as you want - and give me a call."

"What's the job?"

"Protection. That's all I say until we have a contract in place. Do your due diligence and give me a call at the number on the other side of the card. I'll get you the qualifications I'm looking for so that you can choose your best operative."

Sirens sounded and Gina risked a look on instinct. When she turned back, Brigitte Tremblay was gone, her card and bag of money the only sign she'd ever been there at all.

-------

It was exhausting playing the boyfriend sometimes. Bud had loved putting him in those roles. He'd said Jacob was born for them. Gina was less interested, but this job had needed a skilled operative that could manipulate many moving parts and make sure that it all came together quickly. Two months was their limit. Jacob was managing it in less, even if he would be due a bonus for having to deal with the nonstop droll of suckups that followed Emily Atwood around hoping to get a good mentioned to her dear ol' daddy. She wasn't bad, but the people that surrounded her took every ounce of skill he had to smile at rather than snap their necks. With the way things were going, he'd be lucky if they made it up to her father's floor by next week.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair," Emily said, the grip she took on his hand pulling Jacob out of the stupor that Alistair's story had put him into, "but Jack and I were supposed to meet Daddy twenty minutes ago. Do say hello to Martha for me."

Jacob offered a small grimace that was supposed to be a smile as Emily pulled him away and towards the elevators. Once the doors were closed she sank back against the far wall. "They're exhausting."

"Least I'm not alone in that," he chuckled.

The lift wouldn't budge an inch until she swiped her badge, entered a code, and pressed her thumb against a reader to take them all the way to the top. Jacob saw the small signs of worry and reached out, his touch against her arm soothing. "Hey. Don't worry about them."

"It's hard not to. They're vultures. Everyone wants something from him. From us. It's hard to know what's real."

Jacob offered a reassuring smile and shoved that irritating tickle in the back of his mind away. It had been with him for the last couple of years. Since the op that stole his memories. He didn't know what it meant or why it happened, but it cropped up at the most inconvenient of times.

The elevator dinged and emptied them into the hallway. Emily led them around the corner and towards the CEOs suite at the end. The office next to it - Atwood's personal assistant's office - was already dark, meaning she was likely gone for lunch. Perfect. Jacob waited until Emily had fully passed the empty office before casually slipping his hands into his pockets, deft finger working to set his phone to send the signal. He caught the light from the computer waking up out of his peripheral, no one the wiser of it. The only thing he had to do now was keep the conversation going until the files had transferred and he could be Stateside again in under twenty-four hours.

Emily tapped on the frosted glass door as she pushed it open. "Sorry we're late. We...oh."

Jacob followed up behind her to see what had stopped her. Daniel Atwood stood tall and as imposing as he appeared in press releases, but he wasn't alone. With him was a smaller man. Persian. Asal Younes. Not that that would be the name he would have given Atwood. It looked like St Regis wasn't the only one after the intel.

He hadn't seen the man in years, but they had certainly left an impression on each other. Younes had gotten an upper hand on him and managed to leave Jacob with a broken collarbone and cracked ribs, but Jacob had returned the favour with a bullet lodged in the other man's chest and a second to the gut. As far as he knew they hadn't seen each other since, but grudges like theirs didn't dissipate with time. They festered.

"Sorry, love. This will only take a moment," Atwood said and turned back to his conversation.

"Alex Sharif," Emily said very quietly. "He handles Daddy's security."

Well that was interesting. Either Younes has found an in through security- a risky play - or he'd given a cover name to Atwood when he hired him to protect the intel, which didn't make sense. Either way, there was no question he'd been recognized, only how it played out.

He stood frozen in his place, mentally calculating every exit available to him, when he felt Emily's hand slip into his. "Let's wait outside."

She led him out and nodded as he made an excuse to slip off into the restroom to check the status bar on the phone. At ninety percent completion, this might just work. Whatever Gina was paying her new tech guru, it wasn't enough.

The door to the restroom opened and Younes' lips quirked up into a dangerous smile, gun already in hand. "I had heard a rumour that you'd gotten out of the game, either by choice or by force, but here you are. Hands on the counter."

"You've got it wrong."

Younes snorted and motioned until Jacob turned and placed his hands facedown on the counter as instructed. "Not even you can talk your way out of this. What's this?" He pulled the phone out of Jacob's pocket.

"Just downloading some tunes," he answered flippantly.

"Corporate espionage is a crime, my friend."

"So's trafficking, murder, and a half dozen other things you specialize in, so what's your point?" He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw his moment. Jacob kicked out, heel of his boot connecting with Younes' knee with a sickening crack, and he spun to go for the gun. He caught the other man's wrist in time to throw the shot from it wide and shoved Younes back hard against the wall. He dropped the gun as expected, but then slammed his head forward to send Jacob reeling back. Definitely not expected.

Jacob staggered, struggling to blink through black spots that were dancing in front of his vision, and pulled himself around in time to block the next blow. Arms up, a fist collided with his forearm rather than his face and he swung around with his elbow to clock Younes in the temple. The other man crumpled hard and Jacob grabbed the gun from the floor and stuffed it in the back band of his slacks.

A couple of curious people were already at the bathroom door as he stepped out, the commotion gaining their attention. Jacob motioned behind him. "Two guys just went at it in there. Someone should call security."

He pulled his phone out, making a beeline for the elevator and hoped beyond hope that he had what he needed. His lips quirked up at the corner at the sight of a completed status bar and he slammed the heel of his hand into the down button for the elevator. It didn't immediately open for him and he risked a look up to see some asshole had taken it down to the ground floor.

The bathroom door slammed open behind him and he turned, finding Younes stumbling his way out. There was no way that the elevator would make it in time and if they had it out in front of all of these people, someone was bound to snag a photo for identification. The stairwell it was.

Jacob took the two flights up to the roof rather than the fifty-some-odd flights down. At least there wouldn't be cameras up there.

He burst through the door to the roof, and dialed a number. "It's Phelps. I have the intel. Have the plane waiting at Luton Airport. I'll be coming in hot." He reached for the gun and pressed his back against the brick wall of the outer stairwell, eyes squeezed closed and he waited.

The door opened and he leapt into action. He swung around, but Younes was ready for him. He knocked the shot wide just as Jacob had done before, but Jacob used the momentum to swing him around. The two men slammed hard to the gravel roof, rolling and punching and fighting. "You really don't let things go, do you?" Jacob growled, from his place pinning the other man down.

Younes slammed his knee into Jacob's left side and threw him off. He landed hard enough that it took a half second longer than it should have for him to regain his bearings. Younes was on him when he did and he kicked up, catching him in the middle and vaulting him over.

He heard the startled yelp before his mind registered just how close to the edge they were. Jacob rolled to his stomach and pushed himself up, feeling the damaged muscles in his left side pull painfully as he shuffled his way to the edge of the roof where Younes was hanging by his fingertips. He peered over and tilted his head curiously. "Just not your day, is it?"

"You son of a bitch."

Jacob snorted and turned. "Always sucks to see you, Younes," he called over his shoulder and heard another yelp as Younes finally lost his grip.

-------

He hadn't slept on the flight. Between verifying that the data made it to the intended recipient and coordinating with the cleaning crew to wipe all physical traces that he'd ever come into contact with the Atwoods, there hadn't been time. He'd just put his phone down to slouch deeply in the comfortable seat when he felt the rumble of the gears coming down and the pilot reminded him that they'd be landing soon. He must have missed the first announcement.

Both landing on the private airstrip and the drive back to the St Regis compound were a blur as exhaustion started to really set in. He needed a shower and maybe a very long nap. Food could wait.

Hot water poured over knotted muscles. Jacob leaned forward, palm pressed against the shower wall to keep him on his feet as watched as red-tinged water circled down to the drain, rinsing the remaining blood from his skin and hair that he hadn't been able to scrub off from his fight with Younes.

The shower door opened behind him and Jacob nearly lost his footing as he turned. Gina gave him a playful, dangerous smile as she barred the door. "Hello, handsome. How was London?"

"Successful. The data's been transferred and will be released as soon as the funds are."

"Just what I want to hear."

Her gaze traveled him up and down and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "You planning on joining me?" There was always the crash at the end of an op. It had never been something he'd dealt with particularly well, but the last couple years had proven even more difficult. He woke up at all hours with whatever he was dreaming about - or remembering- just out of reach and the strangest sensation that something wasn't quite right. The job usually helped distract him. Sex wasn't bad either.

Gina frowned. "As much as it pains me to say, you don't have time."

"I just got back from a two month job. I think I've got time," he countered, but her look said it all. Okay. That was a quicker turnaround than normal. "Guess I don't, huh?"

"Everything we have for you is in the file on your bed. Your meeting with Brigitte Tremblay in the City at eight. I'd wear more than that."

"What's the job?"

"Don't know. She said she'd only tell our best."

Gina turned to leave and Jacob pulled in a breath. He was going to need a cup of coffee.

-------

Jacob had always liked New York City. Violent homes as a child had taught him to read situations to survive, but as a teenager on the streets he'd sharpened those skills. New York had been a training ground in watching a wide range of people and mimicking every inch of their visible personalities. By the time Bud had picked him up by fourteen he was well on his way to fitting comfortably into any other skin but his own. Now, years later, he'd managed to turn it into a lucrative career.

The file Gina had given him was thin with only the name of the client - Brigitte Tremblay - along with the brief background run on her and her list of requirements. She had deep enough pockets to dictate terms, from the sound of it.

Brigitte Tremblay sat alone at a table just outside of a bakery, red hair peeking out from under a hat and over the scarf around her neck. She was a striking woman in her late 50's, her sharp blue gaze discreetly watching every person that passed by. She was good. A professional of some form or fashion, which left Jacob curious why she'd decided to hire out. There was only one way to find out.

"Ms Tremblay," he greeted as he circled around, but nothing about her reaction signaled that he had startled her. Just the opposite, her thin lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners as if she'd won a bet Jacob wasn't privy to.

"Brigitte, please," she answered and motioned to the chair across from her. The file Gina had given him indicated that she did business in Canada, but there were hints of other locations in her accent. "You must be the top operative I was promised."

"From the little information you were willing to provide, yeah," he answered as he took the seat.

Her smile didn't fade as she studied him. Those piercing blue eyes lingered on him long enough that even Jacob felt the impulse to squirm under the observation. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"The best, like I told your boss." She leaned down and pulled a file from her oversized purse at her feet. It was thicker than hers, but she didn't hand it over immediately. Instead she held it up as if it were a prize to be earned. "I expect full confidentiality in this operation. Once you take the job you will speak to no one about me, about what's in this file, or anything connected to it. Not even your boss, do you understand me?"

"I got it."

She held his gaze. "Do you? I don't accept failure."

Jacob held that intense gaze without budging. "There's a reason my boss sent me rather than any number of operatives. I get the job done. No matter what. Your secrets are part of that job."

There was a beat of silence between them as Brigitte seemed to consider what he'd said. There was a shift, so small that Jacob almost missed it, before she said, "I'm glad we understand each other," and handed over the file.

Jacob opened it to find a photo of a young woman staring up at him. "So what do you need from Elizabeth Keen?" he asked, the name striking an almost-memory as it left his tongue. A hospital bed, everything around him blurred, and a denial. He didn't know any Keens.

"Are you alright?"

Jacob blinked hard, finding Brigitte staring at him. He mentally shook it off. "Sorry. Jet lagged. You were saying?"

"I was saying I want her protected."

"Protected? Why? From who?" He flipped through the notes. "She's a fed."

"Yes she is."

"So what's the connection?"

"She has something of mine. Until I'm ready to retrieve it, I need her out of harm's way. You'll find a number of potential threats I've already uncovered. My guess is there are more."

Jacob flipped through the dossier. The files contained notes about a task force she was a part of, outstanding cases that might pose a threat, and one name that caught his eye. He looked up at his new employer. "Her CI…"

"I'd suggest you stay off his radar. No one should see you. You'll be her shadow. You'll report any new or evolving threats to me unless they put her in immediate danger. I've rented an apartment for you to work out of under the name Thomas Henderson."

"I develop my own covers."

"Not this time." She tilted her head a little. "You do look like a Tom," she mused and stood. "The details for your cover are in the back of that file and this-" she reached for her bag, pulling a burner phone from it - "is for you to contact me. Remember, Tom, she's not to see you."

"That won't be a problem."

"It better not be. Good luck."

Jacob watched as she walked away, a strange and uneasy feeling settling over him as he turned his attention back to the file in hand, Special Agent Elizabeth Keen staring up at him.

-------

TBC

Notes: Bonus points to anyone that recognizes the name Younes from canon. Hint: Tom mentions the name a whopping one time with another name as someone that might be after him. If you guess you will earn the author's eternal entertainment and virtual cookies.

Also, for those that have been worried about Gina being an issue... please know this is short-lived and only because Gina's taking advantage of the situation. Deep breath, my friends. The Keens will actually cross paths quicker in this story than the last Tom Lives! AU that I wrote.

Next Time: Liz works with Katarina, Red gives the Task Force a new Blacklister, and Jacob tries to figure out who Maddie Tolliver is and what her connection might be to Elizabeth Keen.

#the blacklist #blacklist fanfiction #Tom Keen #Gina Zanetakos

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vanderlindeandco · 5 years

Note

I have a Baird x Reader request. Baird and reader have always argued and fought with one another. Marcus, getting fed up with their bullshit sends them out on a mission to "work their shit out". Stuck with each other the rest of the day they start to confess how they really feel about each other. Thank youuu.

Your eyes opened slowly, a sound you couldn’t yet identify having woken you. You looked around sleepily. The sun was just beginning to come up outside and in the dim light you could see Baird sitting on the edge of his bed, a rapidly-disappearing something in a red wrapper crinkling in his hands. “You were done with this, right?” he said, holding up the candy bar.

“You-” your attempt at a sentence ended there, rage welling up inside you like lava. You pushed back the blankets and stood, stalking across the gap between the bunks. You snatched the candy from his hand, but it felt tiny in yours - it was all but gone. You’d found it in the bottom of a vending machine in a deserted building - they were always empty but you still checked in case you could find one of the snacks you used to love. The few bites you had enjoyed had been a much-needed respite from the bland and repetitive food on base. You’d forced yourself to save the bigger part of it, intending to spread it out throughout the week. But no, Baird couldn’t respect that, could he?

“I mean, you left it out,” he said remorselessly as you turned to go stow the remaining morsels in your footlocker. You didn’t answer, instead opting to flip him off over your soldier.

“Shut up, you two!” Marcus’s growl came from his bunk in the corner of the room. “You’re acting like children.”

“Yes, sir,” you said grudgingly, slipping on a pair of shoes to go the showers before your duties for the day began. “What a fucking dick,” you muttered as the door into the hall closed behind you.

When you got out of the shower, you found you had received a message from Marcus: Truck bay. 0800. That was- you glanced at your watch - one minute from now. You took off at a jog down the hall, reaching the truck bay slightly out of breath and just a few moments late. Marcus and Baird were waiting for you there, and it took all your resolve not to shoot Baird a filthy look. “Sergeant,” you said, saluting.

“At ease,” Marcus replied. “We finally have a solution for the corpser problem. We’ve just received a shipment of sensors that need to be placed outside the base. They’ll pick up seismic motion and notify us of any incoming corpsers. I need you to place them.”

“How many are there?” Baird asked.

“Thirty,” Marcus said. “They’ll be placed in a one hundred mile radius around base. You’ll take two quads. I’ve already uploaded the locations and installation instructions.”

“You know,” Baird said, “I know a lot about this kind of thing. I could just take care of it myself.”

“And get shot in the back of the head while you’re focusing?” Marcus said. “No, this is a two-man job. Get your stuff and get going. I expect to see you back in about a week.”

Just great.

“You know this is your fault, right?” Baird said as you walked back to the barracks.

You laughed, looking at him incredulously. “My fault?”

“Yeah, if you hadn’t been so loud, Marcus wouldn’t be punishing us.”

You scoffed, half-assed comebacks tangling in your mind. You couldn’t even put together a coherent sentence and just shook your head, carefully avoiding looking at the man next to you - to even see his face would have made you angrier.

You left in a stolid silence, a duffel bag filled with survival supplies, ammunition, and a spare set of fatigues strapped to the back of your quad. At least it was a nice day out, sky blue, and temperature cool enough that you weren’t sweating under your armor. Well, at least it was a nice day until Baird opened his mouth again. “You remember how to navigate? Cause I’m thinking I should be in front.”

“Yes,” you said pointedly. “I went through the same training you and everyone else did.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” he said, and it wasn’t what he said, but the exaggerated empathy in how he said it, that made you snap for the second time that day.

“Why are you like this?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, I’ve just got a heart of gold,” he said. “Unfortunately, I think you have to be born with it, so you might be out of luck.”

You swerved around a fallen lamppost, choosing not to answer him. It took a good hour of riding before you reached the location for the first sensor, and by then you were well out of the city and passing through long-since deserted neighborhoods. “I’ll cover you,” you said as Baird crouched with the Microminer, a tool that could quickly bore holes into the ground into which the sensors would be placed.

“Don’t need it,” Baird said.

“Fine. I’m going to look around.” Gnasher across your back, you crossed the street, peering through the broken front windows of a small house. The inside was dilapidated, raided, and stripped, little left but shattered glass and shredded furniture. You moved on, feeling a little saddened. The side door to the next house had been torn off its hinges and you stepped inside, the thick, dusty carpet muting your footsteps. You entered the living room, your eyes rapidly processing the locust crouched inside the broken windows, then tracking the aim of its hammerburst to Baird, crouched defenseless in the street, and even as his finger began to tighten on the trigger, you drew your Boltok from the hip, releasing a single bullet. The locust’s fingers loosened and it fell slack, collapsing to the floor with a thud.

“What the hell was that?” Baird had looked up at the shot, with apparently no idea at all of what you had done.

“I just saved your life.” You grabbed the grub by the back of its armor, hauling the body up to drape it over the window-ledge.

“Oh,” Baird said. “Thanks.” He nonchalantly went back to positioning the sensor and you pushed open the front door of the house to rejoin him in the street.

“Must be hard for you to know I was right,” you said.

“Right about what?” he asked, not looking up from his work.

“You needing cover,” you said.

“Eh, maybe,” Baird said. “I react quickly, and grubs usually don’t aim that well.”

“You are something else,” you said incredulously.

“Why thank you,” he said, shooting you a sunny smile that irritated you all the more.

“You just like to think you’re the best one in the room,” you said. “You always gotta prove yourself. And you never trust anyone.”

The smile disappeared, and he didn’t answer for a long moment. “Yeah well, maybe I am the best.” The response was lame, and it seemed you’d shaken him a little as he simply went back to his task without speaking further. It was nearly noon by the time you moved on from the first location and continued westward, away from base, until you were soon out of the neighborhoods and into the bomb-pocked, empty lands beyond. Marcus had plotted a course that would allow you to spend the nights in areas that used to be populated, which would at least allow for some cover, but the desertedness of the expanses outside the city was a little disconcerting, and it put you on edge, pushing Baird away from the focus of your mind.

Together, you were able to place three more sensors before darkness began to fall, and as the moon rose Baird placed the last one for the day next to the road in one of the old neighborhoods. You parked your quads behind a small house, covering them with an half-shredded tarp, and went inside to prepare for bed. You unstrapped your body armor, setting it aside so you could put on a long-sleeve shirt under it to stave off the night’s chill, and as you leaned down to pick up the shirt, your necklace swung out from inside the collar of your T-shirt. You tucked it away quickly, hoping Baird hadn’t noticed, but you had no such luck. “Were those diamonds? If you pawned that, you could finally get yourself some decent guns that aren’t like, fourth-time hand-me-downs.”

“I’m fine with what I’ve got,” you said, slipping on the other shirt before putting your armor back on. No one ever saw the necklace, and it felt wrong that he knew. It made you feel vulnerable.

“Where’s it from?” he asked.

“What, we’re just making conversation now?” you asked.

He tore open an MRE bag and licked away the bit of runny chili that leaked over the edge. “Why not?” “Well, because we’re not really, you know, friends?” you said.

Baird shrugged. “I’m bored.”

“That’s fair.” You paused, feeling the weight of the necklace against your chest. “It was my mother’s.”

“‘Was’?” Baird repeated.

“She died on E-Day,” you said. “She got me to safety and gave it to me. That was about it.” It was a time in your life that you tried very hard not to think about, which was why you dreaded speaking about it.

Baird nodded. “Lost my parents that day too… Wow, aren’t we cheerful?” You chose some food from your bag and ate; it was a little sketchy, as the MREs tended to be, but it filled your stomach, and by the time you were done you found yourself getting a little drowsy; it had been a long day.

“Man, if only we had some dessert,” Baird said with a smirk as he tossed his empty container into a dusty corner of the room.

You scowled at him. “You’ve had plenty.” You stood, grabbing your duffel bag, and rolled out your bedroll in the farthest corner of the room.

“What, you’re not even going to give me a kiss? On our first night together?” he called across the room. You crawled into your sleeping bag, turning your back to him. “Good night, honey,” he crooned, and you closed your eyes, trying to relax despite the new irritation.

*****

You woke first the next morning as the sun began to rise, its early beams weak. Baird was asleep on the other side of the room, tucked soundly into his sleeping bag. For a few moments you considered pulling a prank on him… But no, you were better than that. And besides, you couldn’t think of anything good. “Wake up,” you called as you began to roll up your sleeping bag but he didn’t budge. “Baird?” Nothing. You crossed the room and nudged him with your foot. “Wake up.” He was still peacefully sleeping, his face relaxed and his breathing slow. “All right, then. You’re asking for it.” You unholstered your Boltok and fired a shot into the floor a few feet from his head.

“What the fuck?” he jerked upright, stumbling to stand while still in his sleeping bag and lost his balance, hardly able to catch himself before his face hit the ground with his arms so restrained.

“You’re a hard sleeper,” you said. “C’mon. It’s time to go.”

He sputtered indignantly as he tried to disentangle himself but you didn’t wait around, instead going outside to uncover the quads.

When he joined you, it was with a scowl on his face, which meant there was a smile on yours. “How else was I supposed to wake you up?” you asked.

“You weren’t,” Baird said. “We could have slept in.”

“Anything I can do to get this over with more quickly, I’ll do,” you said.

“Wow, you really hate me that much? I must be doing something right,” he replied.

You weren’t going to let his crankiness spoil your mood, so you spoke no further, instead climbing onto your quad and revving the engine before pulling away. He followed, and when you glanced at his face in your rearview mirror, it was still sour. He needed some time. It was a productive day; by evening you were through with placing a third of the sensors, which put you slightly ahead of schedule. As before, Baird had insisted he didn’t need cover, but still you didn’t stray far just to be safe. You were a few buildings away, eyes on a vending machine that looked promising when you heard a shout and turned to see Baird still crouched facing you, a grub behind him with his gun to Baird’s temple. Behind you, there were sudden sounds of movement and you turned to see some five or eight more locust, all heavily armed, emerging from the surrounding buildings. They remained behind you, falling still fifteen feet or so away. The message was clear. Surrender or he dies. You considered giving in, but then you remembered what had happened to Maria and so many others that had been taken prisoner by the grubs. No, you and Baird were getting out of here.

You set down your gnasher - you could never hit the grub and avoid Baird with that gun - and slowly began to raise your hands in surrender, ignoring Baird shaking his head. You quickly scanned the street, eyes settling on an old sedan parked some five feet away - that would be your cover. The grub holding Baird hostage relaxed as you neared a position of full surrender and that was all the window you needed - you drew your Boltok, sighting down the hefty barrel and loosing a shot before you dove for cover as the guns behind you began to spray. The grub holding Baird went down and he ducked behind his quad, resting the barrel of his lancer on the seat as he began to take out the grubs. From your position behind the car you drew your rifle likewise, beginning to pick them off; they hadn’t expected to need cover and so they had very little, and soon the last one fell.

“Don’t say it!” Baird said as he rose from behind his quad.

“What, that I told you so?” you said pointedly and he groaned.

“Yeah, that.”

“I saved your life,” you said. “Again.” You picked up your gnasher and began to search the dead grubs for any ammo or supplies that could be useful to you.

“What other choice did you have?” he asked.

“I could have let them have you and booked it out of here,” you said. “But I wouldn’t have.”

“No, of course not,” he said.

“Out of curiosity, why do you think that is?” you asked. By now, you had reached Baird, who had finished the placement of the sensor earlier and was now burying it.

“Because you’d miss me, obviously,” he said, standing and brushing the dirt off his hands.

“What’s there to miss?” you asked.

“All right, all right, you did it because it’s the ‘right thing to do,’” the last part came in a mocking tone. “I get it. Get off your high horse.” There were some times you could tolerate him - mainly when he wasn’t speaking - but there were also times that you just couldn’t keep your mouth closed. It had gotten you into trouble before and you were sure it would many more times, but you didn’t regret your honesty. Your conflict with him had gone on too long; it was poisoning your experience as part of the best squad you had ever been on, and it was turning the others against the two of you. And you were frustrated with him for more reasons than perhaps you were being honest with yourself about.

“You know, before I was transferred to Delta, I’d heard a lot about you,” you said. “One thing I heard was that you do a damn good job at hiding that you’re actually a decent person.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone confrontational.

“Yeah. My question is - are you really hiding anything? Or is this all you are? Cause I was a little starstruck by you when I first came over. I liked you. Then as soon as I got to know you, all the macho-ness and sarcasm took over - maybe that’s all there ever was and I just got tired of putting up with it.”

He didn’t answer immediately, and you couldn’t read his expression. Finally he said, his voice quieter than before, “You don’t realize how much the squad changed when you joined. I thought you were just going to be another soldier, you’d be another gun and some extra manpower.” He took a slow breath, his face conflicted. “But then everyone liked you. I liked you. Things changed. Instead of taking me on missions, Marcus started bringing you sometimes. When I was going to go on recon with Dom like we always used to, he’d be training with you instead.”

He was jealous? The Damon Baird, the blonde genius, was jealous?

“I don’t know if you realize how long we’ve known each other and how long we’ve been friends,” he said. “But it all changed when you came, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

“Was it fair to take it out on me, though?” you asked tentatively. You hadn’t expected the honesty and the last thing you wanted to do was push him back into his shell.

“Maybe not,” he admitted. “But you want to know the worst part? I wanted just the same thing I was pissed at them for. When I was going out to fix comm towers and satellites, I wanted to bring you with me. But you distracted me.”

“I did?” You remembered your first weeks with the squad. You’d known about Delta’s reputation, and you had spent the first stretch of your time with them somewhat in awe, trying to learn as much as you could. You remembered those missions with Baird. You had been nowhere near as forthcoming as you were now; you had been the perfect soldier.

“You didn’t mean to,” Baird said. “But you did.”

“You liked me,” you said, shocked.

“Don’t get a big head,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “But yeah, kinda. That’s in the past.”

“Is it?” you asked. “Because we obviously still have a problem.” That was generous - the problem was pretty much all on his end, but you knew you needed to handle it carefully. You hadn’t realized how close you were to him in the intensity of the conversation, but now, in the tense pause, you realized how blue his eyes were and how appealing, even chapped, his full lips appeared. Honesty looked good on him.

“You said you liked me,” he asked tentatively. “At first?”

You hated that your cheeks flushed, but they did, and you couldn’t help it. “So did you!” you said, realizing how childish the words sounded only when they had left your lips. His hand landed on your lower back and something caught deep in your stomach, a wavering tension. He drew you closer and you felt yourself willingly going as you looked up into his bright eyes so close, looking for an answer. He left it up to you and you took the chance, craning up into a kiss, gentle and searching, passionate but careful. He drew back just slightly, a familiar smirk appearing on his face, “I knew you were secretly in love-”

“Shut up,” you said as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his hair, and pulled him back in.

The strangest thing about it was that being so tender with a man you had spent the last three months hating felt so right. At first, you had been fully aware of your attraction to him, but after things changed, his behavior had repressed it to the point you nearly forgot it had ever happened. But all those original feelings were rekindled now, warm and curious deep inside you.

When at last you pulled back, you just stood there for a moment, a little shell-shocked. “Are you gonna be back to the old you now?” you asked finally. “Not the candy-bar stealing whiny you?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you and make no promises about candy bars,” he said. “But I’ll do my best. And you’ll stop second-guessing everything I say and getting me in trouble?” “I’ll only do it when you deserve it,” you said.

“That’s fair,” he said. “All right, let’s get moving.”

It was about a two-hour ride to the next location, and you rode mostly in silence apart from the sound of the vehicles. As Baird revved up the Microminer, you said, “Please tell me you won’t resist me covering you this time.”

“What’re you talking about?” He looked up at you with a bright smile. “I don’t need it!”

“You son of a bitch!” you exclaimed, though you were laughing. “I’m doing it anyway.” “Suit yourself,” he said, setting to work.

*****

“How’d it go?” Marcus asked as the two of you reported back to him several days later upon finishing the mission.

“Well,” Baird said. “We got them all placed. No issues.”

“Yeah, except him almost getting himself killed a few different times,” you said. “But I took care of that.”

“I-”

“I did!” you said, cutting off Baird’s protests.

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

That was all Marcus needed. He could see his purpose had been fulfilled, and there would be peace in the squad again. “Good. Go talk to Henry and fill out the relationship paperwork.”

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“Soldiers in relationships. There’s paperwork to be done,” Marcus said.

“Who said we’re in a relationship?” Baird asked.

“Did you ever wonder why I chose the two of you for that?” Marcus asked. “I need you to get along. I figured you’d have a couple days of arguing before you’d break down and remember how much you used to like each other, and then you’d be back to where you were two months ago.”

“Did they do it?” Cole’s voice interrupted the conversation as he and Dom rounded the corner.

Marcus nodded. “Ha!” Dom said. “I knew it! Hand it over, Cole.”

Cole grumbled, but handed Dom a finely-crafted bowie knife, which Dom stuck in his belt.

“What was the bet?” Baird asked.

“I thought you’d be together by the end of this mission, and Cole thought one of you would have seriously injured the other,” Dom said.

“I came pretty damn close,” you said.

“Oh, you weren’t the only one,” Baird countered.

“Save it for the bedroom,” Cole interrupted, face painted with exaggerated revolt.

“Get out of here,” Marcus said, but the corners of his lips had quirked into a smile before you turned to go.

“See you around,” you said to Baird, planning to head to the bathrooms for a much-needed shower.

“Yep. Hey.”

You had turned to leave, but the word stopped you.

“Thanks for covering me,” he said, true earnestness in his eyes for once.

“You’re welcome.”

#damon baird #gears of war #gow #baird x reader #sfw #request #this one was super fun to write #so thank you for the request!

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1-mini-1 · 4 years

Text

Highlights from Orangestar and M.B’s Interview from Mormon.jp (Part 1)

This interview was published in 10 parts in September 2017, but is VERY in depth about Orangestar’s music, goals, experiences as a producer, and his hiatus (like, 20 pages in a word doc extensive). The full article can be viewed here. That being said, this isn’t a full translation, but rather my favorite parts.This first part focuses on his songs Natsuiro Answer, Mikansei Time Limiter, Earphone to Semishigure, Asu no Yozora Shoukaihan, and Amekigoe Zankyou.

M.B. is also featured in this article (he’s the artist for all of Orangestar’s stuff and his partner in crime). Translator’s notes are in parentheses and look like : (TN:...)

Part 2

Highlights from Session 1: How They Met and 『Natsuiro Answer』

Orangestar: We didn’t know each other personally. I was on the bus on the way back from an event for youth in the church (TN: Referring to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, which both Orangestar and M.B and me are members of) and making songs with my computer, but by chance M.B’s brother was sitting next to me and reached out to me by asking, “What are you doing?”. At that time I was making my own videos, and after talking about how that was my hobby, he said, “My little brother is an illustrator”. Then he showed me his illustrations and I thought the quality was amazing! After I got home I immediately friended him on Facebook. The song I was making on the bus was “Natsuiro Answer”.

M.B: I honestly don’t think that it was a coincidence that I met Orangestar. We had the same goals, hm, I guess you could call it a destined meeting.

Orangestar: Yeah, I was the one who reached out at first, but it feels like M.B is the one who pulled me along. The lyrics from my works before we met versus after are different, right?

M.B: They were kind of hopeless, weren’t they? I guess haha. I was like, let’s make things that sound more hopeful, let’s make things that’ll make people happy.

Highlights from Session 2: Their First Collaboration 『Mikansei Time Limiter』

Orangestar: How did we proceed with Time Limiter again?

M.B: It took about 2 months for the illustration to be completed. But there were also some struggles and stuff.

Orangestar: Yes, work got kinda heavy, didn’t it.

M.B: Yeah, we couldn’t really make progress. Then, it was at this time right, when we probably talked together the most heatedtly on skype. There was a reason we met this way so we also had to make songs that had meaning. That wouldn’t be by making songs however we felt like, but instead based on our Christian perspective. This way, when people out in the world would hear them, they would be able to feel happy or gain courage. That was it. So I guess let's both be careful in our private lives so that nothing prevents that haha.

Orangestar: Yes. Both of us were people who never looked at Nico Nico (Video) so we didn’t know what was trending on Nico Nico but, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I said something like “Let’s make our own era!” then.

M.B: You did, didn’t you haha. “Let’s make our own era!”

Orangestar: But, back then, I didn’t talk at all.

M.B: Yeah, that was really our first skype huh. I talked 99% of the time. Orangestar would only say “mmhm” and nod.

Orangestar: Mhmm. Basically, M.B pulled me along. After all, freshman me seemed like a high schooler that didn’t think of anything at all.

Highlights from Session 3: Studying Abroad in America and 『Earphone to Semishigure』

Orangestar: I uploaded Time Limiter, my first year of high school ended, and I temporarily withdrew from school in Japan to study abroad in America in April 2014. In Utah. My dad was like “Let’s go study English!”. Everyone in my family was dragged into it. So, we went to America. American schools start around August 19th. I went there right after I finished (my first year of) high school so it was right in the middle of the school year, because American high schools end in May (TN: Japanese high schools end their school year in March). I basically just bummed around the house we moved to in April. My dad would say, “This ain’t good” because after only going to school for one month in May it was already summer vacation. I didn’t have any friends still and thought I had a lot of free time so I thought, well, guess I’ll make music. After that I devoted myself to songwriting. While thinking about how I missed Japan’s summers, the song I made while cooping up in my house was “Earphone to Semishigure”.

Session 4: 『Asu no Yozora Shoukaihan』On Towards the Major Debut

Orangestar: It was at this time though, that I went ahead and made a song that was like a farewell for my friends in Japan. I thought to myself, “Ah, this is a good song, I made a good one,” and M.B also really liked it.

M.B: Yeah, Asu no Yozora was really good. The illustrations were tough. It was my first animation.

Orangestar: I made a lot of requests. Even on the illustration like “This! Do this! This!”. At that point in time there was no doubt that it would be my masterpiece for me at that moment, and I had a feeling that Asu no Yozora would become my most representative work. Also, while making the video I would get lost in thinking of a lot of different ideas, like having the idea of flipping the video upside down.

M.B: That was a success. I definitely think that was a masterpiece. The animation and the image change, the song’s vibes were completely perfect, I think. They were pretty troublesome. I remember some parts being a huge pain. Like I remember being also pretty worried while drawing the sky.

Orangestar: Yeah. Then, August, the day before my birthday, the morning school started, I uploaded it. After I uploaded it, I went straight to school but, I couldn’t sleep and went to school, while watching how people would react to it haha

M.B: Oh youth hahaha

Orangestar: But I wasn’t like that I first. Although Semishigure had 100,000 views after the first week. After Asu no Yozora also had 100,000 views after 2 weeks I was like OOOH!!!

M.B: It was ranked number 1 right. The response was slow but it became number 1.

Orangestar: It first became number 1 then after that everyone noticed me all of a sudden. Then, on the next day, it was my birthday haha. I uploaded it as my last piece as a 16 year old.

M.B: The best birthday present. Everyone celebrated it.

Orangestar: After was the piece I made before, “Amekigoe Zankyou”. M.B was busy then.

M.B: I really wanted to draw that song’s picture. When I first heard it, I thought, “I’m definitely gonna draw the picture”. Even now, I feel frustrated about it haha.

Orangestar: After having 2 hits, I thought about uploading it once to lay low for a bit. I didn’t really intend to upload it, but my dad said it would be good if I did. I never thought something like Amekigoe Zankyou would get popular on Nico Nico.

M.B: That’s true. It clearly had a different feeling to it.

Orangestar: Yeah. The one I asked to make the illustration was a girl from my music class in high school, but, according to her, she drew it with M.B’s illustrations in mind.

M.B: Ah, really? I’ve been saved haha.

Orangestar: I made Semishigure, Asu no Yozora, and Amekigoe Zankyou in the same flow.

M.B: And from that we kept our popularity. Everyone gradually set their eyes on us, so I guess it was kind of unshakable.

Orangestar: About the next month talk of a major album was emailed to me. It was sudden.

M.B: You were 17 huh, around then right.

Orangestar: From there, we started working on an album.

M.B: On my work, I tried to make it so they held many different meanings. Like on the jacket illustration. It’s not just pretty scenery.

Orangestar: Yeah. We even thought about the direction of the contrail. Like the plane was coming home haha

M.B: We also had a setting for the world view.

Orangestar: The bus stop idea was all M.B though. Red Summer Bus, Mount Zion.

M.B: I drew it pretty sneakily, but on the major debut’s site the picture was enlarged so I got some questions. From my Twitter mutuals. What’s Mount Zion? Haha, I talked about a lot of things. Heatedly talked.

Orangestar: It was heated huh… even though we made it in Winter.

M.B: For us, it was completely summer.

Orangestar: At that time I guess it was finally like I felt like I firm grasp of what direction I wanted my work to move in.

M.B: Right, we both had that feeling.

#orangestar #translations #guys get pumped for dec 4th

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writerapprentice · 5 years

Text

The Morning After (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Title: The Morning After

Words: 2,225

Book: Open Heart

Characters: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Summary: This short piece takes place the morning after the first night they spent together. I wanted to see a scene like this since that episode but since it didn’t happen (not even in the final chapter), I decided to write my own. If you decide to give it a try, THANK YOU!! Any constructive criticism and suggestions are more than welcome. I truly hope you enjoy it :)

NOTE: This Tuesday I’ll be going on a week-long trip to the desert to work on a project for my lab so I might not have WiFi to upload any stories or reply to you during this time. However, please don’t hesitate to comment or message me if you want to. I’ll make sure to reply as soon as possible.

Some of the characters portrayed in this story belong to Pixelberry Studios so the characters are borrowed from them. I don’t own “Open Heart” or any of the original characters.

_______________________________________________________

The sun entered through the big window. Maya stretched her body as the sun reached her. It’s warmth reviving the paths that Ethan had drawn on her body with his lips the night before. Finally opening her eyes she looked at the clock on the nightstand, 7:15 am. She sighed. It was too early but she was used to her daily schedule at the hospital. She rolled to her left side and saw him. There he was. Ethan. FREAKING. Ramsey. He was still deeply asleep. His face looked peaceful, which was weird considering he was always angry at somebody in the hospital. Maya couldnʼt stop wondering if he was dreaming about their encounter the previous night because she certainly couldnʼt stop thinking about it. She swore she could still feel his hands on her wrists holding her in place. The burning sensation of his hands grabbing her thighs and carrying her to his bedroom. The determination in his eyes as he took her by the window. His confidence as his mouth kissed every inch of her body. His dedication to making sure that both of them reached their climax several times. If she closed her eyes she could still hear his deep moans and commands in her ear. She could hear how their breaths became more exasperated and their heartbeats accelerated. She opened her eyes again. She couldnʼt help but smile at the man sleeping next to her. He belonged to her and she belonged to him. The two missing pieces of the puzzle were finally together and there was nothing that could separate them.

Ethan was laying over his stomach. The gray bed sheet covered his lower half so she was still able to admire his strong back muscles and the tiny nail marks that were starting to disappear from his back, a result of their first night together. His hair, slightly longer than usual, fell over part of his forehead. His brows, which were often in a constant state of irritation, were now relaxed. His lips were slightly parted and she could see a little smile. She placed her hand under her cheek against the pillow and allowed herself to daydream. Is this what waking up next to Ethan every morning would be like? Because she didnʼt mind this view at all. Maya allowed her mind to travel to a different place and time. Both of them waking up with their bodies tangled after spending the night in each other’s arms. Showering together and taking longer than usual because they canʼt resist being so close without touching each other. Both of them sharing a cup of coffee in the morning before heading to the hospital. Stealing kisses here and there during their shifts in the hospital because it feels like an eternity the time they are apart. She was so happy that she even allowed herself to dream bigger. She saw herself with a growing stomach and Ethan by her side satisfying every craving she had. How would a baby change their dynamic? She imagined Ethan waking up in the middle of the night to sing to their crying baby. A baby. A little person. Half Ethan and half Maya. She dreamed that their baby would have Ethan’s eyes, his smile, his brown hair, his dedication, his strength. She giggled. She had to admit that the more Ethan the baby had the better. In the past, Ethan had told her that he didnʼt think it was possible for him to have a family but that was before he accepted his feelings for her and before he resigned from the hospital. It was possible that he had changed his mind since then. She had always known that she wanted a huge family and the idea of having Ethanʼs babies made her stomach feel warm. They could make it work. Once she finished her residency they could get married, buy a house, have kids. Everything was possible as long as they had each other.

A sudden movement brought her mind back to reality. Ethan was stretching his arms and legs. His eyes still closed. She moved closer to him and began to kiss his body starting by his lower back and moving up to his neck. He moaned in pleasure enjoying the sensation of her lips on his naked skin.

“If I knew I could wake up like this every morning I would have confessed my feelings for you sooner.”

“That wouldʼve saved us so much trouble,” she admitted as she played with his earlobe.

He turned his head towards her. Her brown eyes staring deeply into his blue eyes. Ethan shifted so his body was on top of her pushing her back against the mattress. Her red lips inviting him. Without hesitation, he kissed her. It started slow but it escalated fast, both of their tongues fighting for dominance. One of his hands cupping her cheek and the other one pressed against the bed for support.

Their mouths increasing the velocity with each passing second. His hand sliding from her cheek, passing over her breast and even lower holding her hip. They broke the kiss for a moment resting their foreheads against each other. They looked into each otherʼs eyes.

“Good morning handsome.”

“Good morning my love.” He pressed his lips with hers once again and she moaned against his mouth. She returned the kiss again and again. Her tongue dancing with his tongue in a piece full of passion and love. Their hands all over each other’s bodies. They had only been together for one night and they already knew each other perfectly. They could feel their need growing bigger and bigger. Maya grabbed his ass and pulled him closer towards her body. His lips reaching her neck and biting her sensitive spot. He started moving downwards. His mouth leaving kisses all over her body until he reached her breasts. He stopped to admire her for a moment. Could a woman be any more perfect than Maya García? It was not possible. She was a goddess and he still couldnʼt believe that she chose him. He took her left breast in his mouth playing with his tongue while his hand massaged the other one.

“Ethan…”

Ring ring.

“Please, don’t answer,” Maya ordered as Ethan continued playing with her breasts. She curved her back in his direction at the feeling of the slightest touch or kiss.

Ring ring.

“I think itʼs actually yours,” Ethan said as he raised his head and looked at the phone that was resting on his nightstand. “Maybe you should answer them, your roommates must be worried for you since you didnʼt go home last night.” She sighed.

“They’ll survive,” Maya responded in a whisper barely able to finish the statement. A growing sensation with each of his movements. She grabbed his head and pulled him towards her to kiss him.

Ring ring.

She groaned against Ethan’s mouth. Maybe he was right after all. He moved to free her from his hands and she reached the nightstand looking for her phone. 15 missing calls and 38 texts from her roommates asking if she was okay. She couldnʼt blame them, the last thing they knew was that she went to talk to Ethan and never came back. They probably thought something bad had happened to her. Or worse case scenario, Ethan had killed her and was now trying to hide the body. Part of this theory was right. Ethan was, in fact, killing her... with his mouth… with his hands… with the way he looked at her. She would have a hard time explaining everything to them. But first, she needed to define her situation with Ethan. It sounded simple but she had to admit that she was afraid of what he would say. Would they finally be a couple or not? She shook her head to make those thoughts go away. She felt so happy and complete that she didnʼt want to even consider the idea that even after everything they had been through to get to where they were now Ethan would still refuse to be with her. She turned off her phone without answering to any of the texts, her roommates could wait a little longer. Now she had more important things in her mind.

She turned to Ethan. “I think we left something unfinished,” she said as she moved her hand down Ethanʼs waist and grabbed between his legs. She kissed his body as she drew an invisible path down his chest to his hips and his thighs.

“I… umm...” was everything Ethan was able to say. Her hand felt so hot against his body that his blood began boiling as she slowly began moving her hand feeling all of him. He reached for her face and pulled her towards him. They kissed. A kiss full of emotions. Acceptance, need, longing, but mainly love and that was something that nobody could deny. And just like that, they got lost in each other once again.

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Ethan hugged Maya and pulled her closer to him. Both resting with their eyes closed. Her body was over the right side of his chest and her right leg was wrapped over his leg. He was drawing small spirals in her back. Both of them awake but too focused on memorizing every single detail of their encounter. They wanted to remember this for the rest of their lives as a precaution of what the future had in store for them.

“I should probably go, tomorrow is my ethics hearing and I want to prepare as much as possible.” Maya was the first one to break the silence.

This caused Ethan to open his eyes. He hugged her even tighter as he remembered the difficult moment she was going through. He kissed her forehead and rested his face against the top of her head, smelling her hair and allowing her scent to fill all of him.

“I would give everything I have, my own career if it was necessary just so you wouldn’t have to go through this.”

Maya raised her head slightly as she listened to his statement. Their eyes met. She placed her hand over his heart.

“I know,” she assured him. “But I could never ask you to do something like that for me.”

Ethan opened his mouth to protest but she was faster.

“I was aware of what I was doing and I’m willing to respond for my actions. I have to be responsible.”

“I just… I just wish I could do something more to help you. I say I care about you but I’m not able to do anything good for you,” he confessed, lowering his head and evading her eyes. She could see anger appearing on his face.

“Hey,” she said lifting his face towards her so she could give him a soft kiss on the lips. His anger began to disappear. “You already promised you’ll be there tomorrow. Do you know how much your support means to me? You think you’re not doing enough, but this is more than I could ask for. Knowing that you’re there and that no matter what the result of the hearing is you’ll always have my back is enough for me.”

They looked at each other with an intensity that attempted to make up for the time they had wasted since the conference in Miami. She got lost in her deep blue eyes and he could stop thinking how lucky he was to have this woman by his side. He had to accept that he not only cared about her, he also loved her and he would die if it meant she didn’t have to suffer ever again in her life.

“Wow. You really should start getting dressed because all these words you’re saying are making me want to keep you in my bed the entire day,” Ethan admitted.

Maya chucked. She stood up and began picking up her clothes, which were scattered all around Ethan’s room. Ethan sat in his bed with his back against the headboard and rested his hands behind his head admiring her. She couldn’t stop smiling and blushing at the heat in his eyes. When she finished getting dressed, she sat next to Ethan on the corner of the bed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said while she placed her hand on his thigh.

“I’ll be there. Please, don’t let Declan or anybody else break your spirit,” Ethan asked while he places his hand over hers.

“I won’t”

“Will you text me when you get home so I know you’re safe?”

Maya nodded giving him a comforting smile. She leaned in closer to Ethan and both shared a deep kiss. Her hands moved to his hair and pulled it tightly. His tongue licked her bottom lip. Ethan held her tight hoping that by doing this he would also stop time so she could stay with him longer. It didn’t work. After several moments, both separated and she finally stood up to leave. Once she reached the door she turned around and blew a kiss in Ethan’s direction before disappearing through the door. His heart skipped a bit. How was he able to reject his feelings for her in the past? He was so enchanted by her that imagining a world without her seemed impossible to him.

TAGS: @paulfwesley

#Ethan Ramsey #Ethan Ramsey x MC #Open Heart #Choices #Pixelberry #Fanfiction #open heart fanfiction

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ttomatoez · 5 years

Text

Wounded (ItaSaku) Ch. 1

Link (chapters 1-4): https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13101412/1/Wounded

Summary: Sakura has trouble coming to terms with the direction her life is going when she is forced into the company of Uchiha Itachi who needs his eyes fixed in order to resume his own way of life. Their two paths converge and then diverge, creating an attachment that Sakura would have never expected.

Pairing: ItaSaku, Non-Mass

Rating: T

A/N: I’m uploading this story from my ff account in case there are people who only read tumblr. The rest of the chapters will be in the link provided (I’m currently working on chapter 5)

CH. 1 - House Call

Two years post-war. Non-Mass.

Sakura flushed the bathroom toilet and went to the sink to wash up before returning to the hospital floor. She pumped some soap into her hands and scrubbed it into her skin, purposefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror above.

Miss Sakura! I drew you a picture!

She clenched her jaw, scrubbing the milky lather harder into her skin.

The little girl's mother beamed happily as she handed her a beautifully scribbled drawing that consisted of three stick figures holding hands in a field of flowers. Three different people. Three distinct hair colors. Naruto with his characteristic whiskers was right in the middle, her and Sasuke positioned on their respective sides.

It's very beautiful, Yuka! I love Sasuke-kun's spiky hair!

That carefree smile was still imprinted in her mind over a month later. How it had quivered, pressing innocently into a frown as she was read her diagnosis.

She turned the water off, lingering there with her hand on the knob, making no attempt to fix her hair as it fell over her face.

For the past few weeks, she'd been trying her best to steer clear of the inpatient unit, instead spending most of her time in and out of the lab and research departments where she could veil her insecurities in the privacy of an empty chamber surrounded by nothing but test strips and petri dishes. Tsunade advised her not to get too comfortable with it; her skills were obviously needed in the more public parts of the hospital, but she didn't see too much harm in it given it was only for a short period of time.

Sakura hadn't pressed the subject much after that. She enjoyed interacting with patients, being a part of their before and after, even healing her own comrades whenever they returned exhausted and dizzy from strenuous missions. So much time had passed since she'd seen battle that this had become her new reality, but at the end of the day, there was just no substitute for the cold comfort of the lab. At least, not in her current state of mind.

"Sakura-chan, do you have a minute?"

Sakura had been bent over one of the tables, a pair of blood cultures in one hand and a pen in the other, signing labels to stick on them. She hopped a bit in surprise, turning to find one of her coworkers leaning over by the door.

"Risa-chan?"

While she was used to seeing her downstairs in inpatient, sometimes the two of them went out for drinks after work. Sakura usually enjoyed herself after the effects of a few beers, but it had been several months since they'd last gone.

"What's wrong?" she said without thinking, her worried expression spreading from Risa's face to the cultures in her hand as she remembered to keep shaking them, hoping they hadn't already started to congeal.

A look of surprise came over Risa's face, settling into a sheepish laugh. "Wow, you caught me," she said defeatedly. "I didn't think it looked that obvious."

Sakura tilted her head, releasing a light chuckle of her own. Maybe she should have been a little less vocal about it. "Just a little," she replied, bagging up the vials and sealing it closed. "Believe me, it happens to the best of us. Is there something wrong?"

"As much as I would like to say no," she trailed off. Sakura kept her eyes on her as she spoke, breaking eye contact only when she reached the opposite corner of the room where the air tube was to send off the samples. "Yesterday, I received a house call from Uchiha Fugaku. I feel responsible for following through with it, but if I'm honest, I don't think that what they're asking for is within my scope of expertise."

At that moment, she was thankful that her back had been turned as it concealed the look of distress that consumed her face when she heard the word 'Uchiha'.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it for the entire day."

She released her finger from the button, sending the bag of cultures up the pipe that led to the testing center, her heavy gaze revealing an intense desire to follow it through the ceiling and dismiss herself from the conversation.

"Sakura-chan?"

Ever since team seven had returned from the war, her name had become synonymous with Naruto and Sasuke - bound to them like cement. It came with it's own ups and downs, but Sakura enjoyed spending time with them as she always had when they were children. The differences between them sort of just crept into frame at some point. Naturally, they were bound to have separate adventures going forward. Everyone around them were getting married and starting families of their own, including Ino who had vowed she wouldn't become a housewife until at least thirty-five. That obviously didn't happen.

Naruto began training immediately to become the next hokage, much to Kakashi's relief. Sakura always knew he'd make it there at some point. If it wasn't for that she wasn't sure Sasuke would have ended up leaving the village again, but those two lived to be on opposite ends of the spectrum, which meant that as long as Naruto stayed, he was destined to find his purpose somewhere far away.

Looking back, she should have known it was a waste of time to wait on him. Nowadays she couldn't decide whether it tortured her more to see him gone or have him here…

"Have you talked to Tsunade-sama about this?" she asked. It was her turn to attempt to mask her feelings.. "It sounds like you might have to have someone else take the assignment."

The room fell eerily silent, dense with some invisible emotion.

Part of her didn't even want to know what the details of the assignment were. If she could maneuver through the rest of her life without seeing another Uchiha, she'd probably be much healthier herself.

"I..did-"

"She'll do it."

Behind the door panel, a pair of heels clacked their way to the doorway as Tsunade revealed herself. The look on her face could only be described as 'perturbed'. Sakura knew it very well since like now, she was often on the receiving end of it.

"My office," she said, only stopping long enough to shoot her a glare. "Now."

"Shut the door behind you, Sakura."

Tsunade had made it a point not to answer any of her questions until they made it up the stairs and into her office on the leftmost wing of the hospital. Sakura stared at the piece of paper in her hand as they walked, hoping to get an idea of what this was all about. It looked familiar, but she wasn't able to make out exactly what it said until the door clicked closed, and it was violently slapped onto the face of the desk.

"What is this?" Tsunade shoved her finger on it. "Some kind of joke?"

Sakura's eyes fell on it, instantly coming to recognize the delicate lines composed of her own handwriting, the feelings she had while writing it rushing back to her with force.

"That was two weeks ago," she said.

"And that changes what?" The hinge of her chair squeaked as she dropped into it, crossing her legs. "After all the medical training we've done. All the fighting. Is that what you really want? To stay in the lab with the students and new grads?"

Sakura couldn't look at it anymore, cutting her gaze towards the tile flooring that matched the rest of the building's interior. If she had an answer to that question she would have just said it, but she couldn't help the bitter taste of confliction at her tongue, impairing her ability to make a decision.

Unfortunately, she didn't need to. The hesitation was itself an answer; It made her want to puke.

Tsunade sighed heavily. "I taught you to be stronger than this.. You act as if you've never seen death or suffering first hand before when you're one of the few people left in this building that has! How many years did it take you to master the Hundred Seals?!"

"Shishou,"

"And if it's Sasuke again-" She started to say something, but decided not to finish the sentence. "You need to pick yourself up, Sakura. You've been dragged through much dirtier mud and you know it."

"The last thing I wanted to do was disrespect you and the time we spent together.." Tsunade was no longer looking at her. She had taken a large red 'declined' stamp and began marking the whole page with it.

Sakura let out a gentle sigh of her own. It had been a while since she'd mustered the balls to admit these things to herself. "I guess I did let it get to me, more than I thought," she said. "When he came back."

She threw her arms in the air, letting them fall back down as if they were dead. "And now he's gone again. And Naruto's gone too.." Shaking her head, she pinned her gaze on one of the windows.

"It feels like I'm going nowhere with my life."

"And at what point are you actually going to start living for yourself?" Tsunade seemed to have cooled off well enough to carry on with her work. In fact, she seemed pretty satisfied with the answer she got. Or was it just the fact that she got to deny the hell out of Sakura's transfer request?

She finished her signature at the bottom of another document that she slid towards Sakura alongside the first. "First thing - For the record, I wasn't going to allow you to transfer in the first place. Ask again, and I'll fire you."

Sakura softened, her lips curving into a small smile.

As if she should've expected anything less in the first place...

"I'll try," she teased, earning a low glare in return.

"Second - I'm giving you this signed order to take with you to the Uchiha compound. Tell Itachi that the one his father requested is not skilled enough to use the techniques required to fix his eyes. I mean, that part is pretty self-explanatory. Just do the job - "

"Shishou!"

The instant they locked eyes, Sakura could tell that her next words might be her last. If she wasn't careful, Tsunade was bound to lose her composure again, and then she might actually be out of the only job she knew how to do.. Not really, but there was a devilish glint in Tsunade's eyes that screamed 'please, try something'. Her fists probably still itched from Jiraiya being gone for the past few months.

"I - Aren't there others that can do the job just as well? I do have other projects I'm working on right now, and the others need the experience anyway."

"No, Sakura," she said seriously. "There's no one else I trust with this job other than you. Your projects can wait a few weeks."

"What if I -"

"10 AM tomorrow. Now take the paper and leave before I kick you out myself."

The rain came down in droves the entire night, and at around eleven o'clock, Sakura realized that if she didn't take a sleeping pill she wasn't going to sleep at all, which would inevitably end up impairing her work in some way the next morning. The pills had been her saving grace over the past few months. Even though she knew at some point she'd have to stop taking them, tonight was probably not the night to start. Fugaku was even more no-nonsense than Tsunade was as a former Hokage and that's saying a lot.

As for Itachi, she didn't know what to expect from him. He was Sasuke's older brother, he was an ANBU officer, and he must have helped in the war in some way. She'd only met him twice in her entire life and they weren't rememberable at all. Perhaps that was a good thing when she really thought about it. She'd had enough of Uchihas and their stubborn arrogance.

If you've met one, you've met them all.

Someone told her that once, but she couldn't remember who..

At around midnight the sleeping pills finally began to take effect, eyelids drooping heavily over her irises despite her will to stay awake. She wanted to think and prepare more and continue to watch the rain splash itself over the rails of her balcony.

It wasn't enough to keep her conscious. Within minutes, she was fast asleep under a mountain of blankets that she would probably end up kicking off of her at some point during the night, the rain only starting to subside in the wee hours of the morning as the sun slowly popped its head over the distant treeline.

It was bound to be an interesting day...

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