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cultofdixon · 1 year

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Relax a Little

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • The Youngest Dixon • The apocalypse stresses everybody out, but the eldest one had the best idea • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Drug Consumption (Weed) / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

“No!”

“She said yes and she’s an adult so. You ain’t playing dad anymore. If she wants to try. She wants to try”

“You’ve got to be kidding right? There’s fucking sickos around. If she gets a bad one, she’s gonna flip”

“Such little faith in me, big bro” Y/N scoffs at Daryl who was only looking out for her while Merle is the devil in disguise. “What’s the worse that could happen?”

•

I’m losing my goddamn mind

Y/N found herself in the middle of the woods that the Dixons had found solace in since the outbreak started. She already couldn’t wrap her head around what time it was and whatever kind of strain Merle gave her, made it worse.

“YOU LOOKED AWAY FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND AND SHES GONE” Daryl snaps at the also stoned Merle who was zoned out in his outdoor chair. “Goddamn it. You’re useless” he quickly picked up his crossbow and made his way into the woods tracking where his sister went.

Everything feels weird Y/N frowns rubbing her hands together feeling the dryness of her hands which only started to make her panic a bit. I’m drying out? Isn’t Atlanta like water…uhh….I don’t know. I need water. She groans brushing her hands on her jacket making her way toward any sound of water.

But it was all silent for the most part. With the few grumbles by walkers that weren’t even close.

“Stupid son of a bitch. Can get eaten by sickos for all I care.” Daryl groans continuing to follow the trail Y/N had left, given she may have gotten far but she was slow and left heavy foot prints. “Dumbass is a drug dealer. All of his shit could be laced. Why would she even think…” he stops himself from saying more when approaching a walker and taking it out.

He quickly picked up his step finding Y/N’s jacket on the ground covered in blood that he couldn’t tell if it was hers or not. But it got him to start running.

Weird. Weird. Weird. Y/N sat at the edge of the creak watching the water run for a while with her feet in the cold water. She was lost in thought as the sound of water drowned out everything around her.

________

“Get out of the creek” the teen picked up the screaming child as all she wanted to do was stay in the water. But the annoyed groan coming from the eldest made it clear.

“Why the fuck do I gotta take care of her as well as you? Can’t she stay with da—-“

“No one is staying alone with dad! Fuck Merle” The teen being Daryl holding the youngest Y/N close as she struggled to get free from his grasp. “You’re already leavin’ for what. The military?”

“The military” Y/N mumbles staring at the ground giving up with fighting his grasp. “He’s leaving? Like mommy?”

“That can be dark, but nah peanut. I’m just gonna fight for this stupid ass country” Merle took Y/N from his brother’s grasp and putting her on his shoulders.

“And most likely get discharged” Daryl scoffs following his brother and sister back to the car.

“Well would yea rather have me come back after being discharged…or with a flag?”

“A flag” Y/N replies with holding onto Merle’s head for stability as Daryl couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“She doesn’t know what that means. But I’d take the first one”

“See I knew you cared about me baby brother”

“I care more about her than you”

“Fair enough”

________

“Y/N!” Daryl yells stopping by the creek finding her shoes by the water but no sign of her. “This goddamn woman. I’m going to kill h—-“

“DONT TOUCH ME”

Daryl quickly ran across the creek knowing that was his sister’s voice and relaxed knowing it’s not a walker or another person. But a raccoon? The fucking girl is fighting a raccoon.

“Y/N, you’re fine”

“DARYL HE STOLE FROM ME”

“I don’t think he did. But uh. He’s gonna make a good dinner” Daryl readies his crossbow and before he could fire, more noises were made causing Y/N to run off. “Motherfuck—-“

“Hold it”

The unknown man held his shotgun up at Daryl as he kept his crossbow steadied. He wasn’t going to take any chances either. If he shot, so was he. Then they’re both taken out of the picture. But given Y/N’s state of mind, some would say certain emotions were enhanced by the drugs, she wasn’t going to let her brother meet his maker by this unknown.

“Where did you come from?”

“Why should that matter? The woods is the woods and you scared my sister off”

“Your sister is the crackhead?” He questions and that comment only enraged Daryl.

“She AINT a crackhead. She’s fucking stoned. Did you touch her? Talk to her? How the fuck do you—-“

“She’s been running around in the goddamn woods by herself without her shoes. You expect me to believe she ain’t no crackhead? Granted I’ve seen a lot of weird shit. What’s next a nudist?”

“What the hell is your deal?!” Daryl snaps keeping his weapon up and in the corner of his eye he spotted Y/N sneaking up behind the unknown. But what he didn’t know was that Merle had been following him and given the situation, he raised his gun up high firing out of both their lines of sight.

Causing them to move their weapons out of view of the other. Leading to Y/N’s opportunity to swing the branch they got, knocking the man in the back of the head and onto the ground unconscious.

“Jesus Y/N”

“I DIDNT KILL HIM. IT DIDNT KILL HIM. HES GROANING. BREATHING. I DIDNT—-“ Y/N stopped her panicking when she heard a gasp behind her resulting in the brothers aiming their weapons and her quickly raising her hands up. “I did not kill your husband”

The woman that came through looked at the three confused before drawing her attention quickly to the man on the ground. She ran over dropping to her knees making sure what Y/N said earlier was true. He was in fact still breathing, he’ll have a killer headache by the end of this.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Oh well I’m Y—-“

“Shhhh ain’t gotta tell nobody who we are until we know you ain’t one of them…one of them. Uh”

“Bad bitches”

“I tell yea that once and it sticks in your brain in adulthood. What else do yea call bad guys?” Merle continued to struggle with the conversation with his sister as Daryl looks at the woman who was struggling to follow.

“They’re stoned. Mind yer business, tell us who you are and we’ll go from there”

“Lori. This is Shane and he ain’t gonna be happy when he’s fully up.” Lori frowns trying to get him to sit up when he was protesting at first. Y/N couldn’t help herself and help the stranger get Shane situated upright.

As Y/N rose to her feet she didn’t wait another second to start heading back to their camp. Daryl groans pushing Merle to follow their sister about to join him when he turned to the two once again.

“Yea alone?”

“No, we’ve got a camp…what are you doing out here?”

“Survivin’ what else?” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and that sparked something in Lori’s head.

“You hunters? All three of yea?”

“Yeah”

“Well when this guy gets clear again, where can I find yea?”

“Why?”

“See if we can help each other out. It is the end of the world.” Lori shot a reassuring smile as Daryl stood to ponder but there was pressing matters.

“I’ll think about it…” He states leaving on that note, and Lori was left a bit confused thinking he wouldn’t find them again. But he’s one hell of a tracker.

The middle Dixon half expected his siblings to struggle to go back to their camp, but to his surprised Merle was laying in the ground right beside Y/N staring up at the sky. Both seem to be lost in thought and Y/N temporarily snapped back when her shoes and jacket were dropped on her by Daryl.

“Thanks D”

“You’re the wander off kind of high” Daryl frowns sitting in the outdoor chair Merle was in earlier after setting his crossbow down.

“Gonna need a leash on her” Merle yawns a bit. “Not the sexy kind”

“Gross shut up” Y/N smacks Merle beside her hearing him groan as he rolls over to lay on his stomach in the dirt. “Everything is spinnin’”

Daryl frowns bringing himself out of the chair and kneeling beside her. “Like you might pass out or?”

“Such a worrywart” Merle groans into the dirt turning away from the two knowing Daryl is glaring at him.

“Don’t be a bitch Merle…and nah. Just spinnin’. Ain’t gonna…react bad” She sighs rubbing her eyes a bit as Daryl sat down on the ground staying close to her in case of anything.

As the night crawls in and the high was subsiding. Meaning Y/N was sober enough to help set up the can barrier with Daryl as Merle continued to lay in the dirt since he passed out after a while. The two stayed up a bit longer keeping their fire low and preparing the squirrels Daryl found before their high endeavors.

“Merle’s right yknow”

“About what? And that coming from you? Really is the end of the world” Daryl scoffs taking a bit of his portion, tossing the canteen to Y/N when she made grabby hands for it.

“You’re a worrywart, Dar”

“So what? I’m yer brother. Second nature to be”

“Yeah but you were more than a brother to me growing up. You and Merle may have not had the best role models growing up. But I did. I don’t think Merle would care hearing that you’re my favorite brother but you took care of me and made sure I was safe even with our bitch of a dad and moron of an older brother”

Part of him thought she was still stoned, granted she could be. But Y/N always thought that. Daryl’s the best big brother anybody could have.

________

“But I don’t wanna. Where are you gonna be?”

“Back at 1pm to pick yea up. Don’t matter beforehand”

“Matters to me…” Y/N pouts squeezing her brother’s hand not wanting to go to kindergarten as Daryl sighs letting go of her hand kneeling beside her. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

“Because you gotta learn something, and tell me all about it when I come and get yea. Alright? Can yea do that?”

“Love yea D”

“Love yea too, kid” Daryl smiles standing up about to leave when Y/N suddenly wrapped herself around his legs.

“Be safe please”

“I will, you know I promise yea”

________

“Yer my favorite too yknow”

“Uh…duh?” Y/N smiles tossing the canteen back before getting up to grab a blanket for Merle.

Leaving Daryl to relax a bit.

Thankful nothing happened to her

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #PLATONIC #daryl dixon fanfiction

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like-rain-or-confetti · 2 years

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Since you like Henchmen S/O dynamic here's another.

S/O is a henchman and made a mistake which made him angry and while he threw his hand up she cringed and covered herself with her hands because she was expecting a hit (she had a bad experience with her last boss.) For Scarecrow,Riddler, Mad Hatter, Black Mask and Two Face

I AM SCREAMING. YES FEED ME MORE OF THISSSS.

Everybody makes mistakes but for a criminal in Gotham? Well one mistake could cost you your life.

Scarecrow: He grabbed your wrist, catching it just as quickly as you had covered yourself. His free hand removing his mask as his icy blue eyes stared into your very soul. "Is that what you fear?" He asked lightly as he drank in every miniscule movement you made. You didn't have to do any talking, your actions said it all. "I don't have to raise a hand to you, darling." He said quietly. "I could do so much worse without lifting a finger. Take solace in that. This predicament is regrettable but fixable." He let go of your wrist, moving his mask back onto his face before briskly walking away, seemingly to fix the problem.

The Riddler: This man flails, he's a flailer. He's also quick to anger, so this may happen quicker than you'd think and probably multiple times. Had you been a regular henchman, he wouldn't have cared if he frightened you. Hell, he just might have felt more inclined to hit you if he didn't care so much. However the moment he sees the flinch. He's actively trying to calm down. He goes quiet. "I frightened you." He said lowly and mostly to himself before sending a fierce gaze to you. "That wasn't my intent, my dear." He put a hand on your shoulder and rubbed your collarbone with his thumb. He gets someone else to fix the problem. It's not that he doesn't trust you to fix it. It's that if you don't fix it, he doesn't trust himself not to blow up at you. You'd think that's him having some kind of empathy. Its more because he doesn't want to be anymore pissed at you because he 100% wants to blow up at you but knows he'll suffer the consequences of regretting it later.

Mad Hatter: He's quiet and slowly pulls your hands down. He looks serious...more serious than you were used to. You didn't think he had it in him. Then he spoke, there was no rhyme, no fun. "Don't do that." He said quietly. He made it seem like you hurt him more than anything else. He didn't know what made you flinch like that but he didn't like the ideas his imagination gave him. He said nothing more. Perhaps he felt there was nothing left to say.

Two-Face: Harvey is horrified whilst Two-Face is livid. Not at you. He demands names as to who laid a hand on you. He grabs your hand and demands you tell him who laid a hand on you. Harvey, on the other hand, wants to take the more assertive but gentle approach. Not wanting to frighten you any further. Although that isn't lasting long because he's just pulled out his gun and that always makes it worse.

Black Mask: That just pisses him off more. "Hide from me!?" He seemed ready to chew your head off as he pulls your hands away and backs you against the wall. "You don't ever hide from me like that! Like I'm going to hit you!? You fucking kidding me!?" Kinda hurts that you think that low of him. When he finds out why, -after some time- he isn't jumping down your throat like he previously was but still just as firm. "You don't back away from me like that. Got it? No matter how pissed I am, I'm not gonna hit you."

#request #batman #batman villains #batman scenarios #the riddler #scarecrow #two face #black mask #mad hatter

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sweetsbfreex · 4 years

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you’re amazing, don’t worry

A few days before you were laying in bed. Harry laid on his back, while you were on your side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his chest. Watching the television displayed on the wall.

“Can we talk about something before we both doze off?” he asked quietly, his arm going lazily up and down your arm.

“Sure” you replied sitting up, crossing your legs. While Harry also sat up, pausing the tv too.

“I know we’ve talked about it a few times, but I think we should go public” he said quickly, which is something when you’re speaking about Harry.

“You- you wanna go public, like let everyone know we’re dating?”

“Yeah I mean, you know the movie premiere is this weekend and I really want to walk the red carpet with you by me” he stated, reaching for your hand in the midst of it.

“H-”

“I know, I know baby, but I think this could be the perfect time. We can get it over with” he said shuffling closer “I could finally show my girl off to everyone hm?” placing his palm on your cheek, thumb grazing the apex of your cheek.

You loved Harry; you really did. He is your person, but you just weren’t sure about this. Having to put up with your social anxiety, big events, crowded places, and new people just weren’t your thing. You remember the first time you had met the band, a fidgeting mess, was all you were.

The door opened to his studio, a smiling, giddy Harry on the other side. You however, were the complete opposite. Your stomach was a mess and your fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the rings on your fingers or the necklace around your neck.

Harry could see from the doorway, pulling you into a bone crushing hug (letting the door close behind him) filled with love, whispering into your ears words to affirm you. “Hi, you’re amazing, don't worry,” he said kissing, your lips.

You smiled up at him showing your thanks, clasping your hands together “Thank you...Oh also can you let the lady in the front office know I said good morning back, my voice just wouldn’t project,” you whispered the last part, earning a chuckle from Harry.

“Yes I'll do it, you about ready to meet everyone” he asked, looking down at you, concern displayed on his face from the way his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Can we just stand out here for a bit” you asked.

“Of course, just let me know when you’re ready. I promise they're not as bad as I make them seem” he says grinning, as he brings his hands put to clasp your face, setting kisses to your forehead.

When you were finally ready, Harry opened the door, your hand holding onto his tightly, as you trailed behind him.

‘Am I walking funnily? No you’re fine just don't trip or anything’ you tell yourself, breathing a deep breath in holding it and letting it go.

“Lads this is y/n!” he pronounced elatedly, stepping to the side so you would be in view, looking down at you tranquil. You could see, looking back a thin briefly the crinkles around his eyes were striking and his dimples deep.

“baby, this is Mitch, Sarah, you already know Jeff, Ny Oh, Adam, and Charlotte”. You knew Mitch was a man of not many words, so you weren’t too worried about conversing with him.

‘don't sound stupid, don't sound stupid, don't sound...’

A variety of heys were thrown at you from everybody in, you squeaked out a hi hoping everyone had heard and a wave.

Harry had then pulled you both to sit down in one of the free spaces of the couches resting against the walls of the studio.

“So y/n, H says your interning at Pinterest, that’s really cool” Sarah says

“Oh yea..Uh, I just look at a bunch of numbers and statistics, nothing too fun” you say, your voice wavering. But inside you could swear your heart was doing cartwheels when you had realized Harry talks about you to his friends.

“I don't think it’s boring, she’s brilliant, she looks at all these gigantic numbers and comes up with these summaries, it’s amazing” Harry parades, wrapping his arm around your torso.

“Thank you H” you murmur, your cheeks heating up.

As the time continued before you had to go. There was a lot of Harry intervening because you weren’t really sure what to ask or say, too on the fence of not embarrassing yourself in front of his friends, but luckily as time went on things had gotten better, to the point you didn’t break down before hanging out with any of them.

“But all those people bub and the cameras, I don’t know, my anxie-”

“I know I can’t control it, but I’ll be there with you the whole time. You don’t even have to tell me your answer right now, whenever you’re ready okay?”

“Yea, thank you” you say. Getting up to stand on your knees, pulling Harry into a hug. A breath of relief coursing all over you.

“You don’t have to thank me, petal, just want you comfortable”

Now here you were getting ready for the event, sporting a beautiful black dress that had an ascending slit running up the side of the dress.

“You look beautiful, angel” harry gushed walking over to you, taking your hand as he guided you to do a quick twirl “very easy on the eyes” using that same hand to stop your twirl and instead pull you into him, stationing his second on the curve of your ass.

“Are you sure if you’re having any doubts it’s ok” he repeated for the umpteenth time. You don’t mean to sound the way you do, you were grateful of course for how caring and understanding he is.

But ever since you had told him yes, he’d check every day till now, just to see if you were sure, reassuring you that he wouldn't be mad if you change your mind, etc.

“Harry-”

“I know I know, but I also know that you don’t like thinking that you're disappointing me”

“I hate you,” you mumble, bringing your forehead to rest against his shoulder, hating and loving the fact that he knew you so well, you could barely hide anything if you wanted to, but he couldn’t either.

“Mhm” he hummed, grinning down at your distraught stance.

You brought your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him for reassurance “I promise I'm fine, it’s okay”

This was not okay, you should’ve listened to Harry.

Now in the limo, on the way to the event, it was you, Harry, the band, Jeff, and his girlfriend–Glenne.

Your foot tapped arrhythmic, both hands tightly clasped around one of Harry’s. It felt like you were going down a really really really high rollercoaster, with how your stomach was twisted a never-ending knot of wires.

fuck, did it really hurt.

“Love are you sure you’re okay?”

“mhm” you responded, nodding quickly letting go of the tense hold you had on Harry’s hand.

Conversation was flying around you, but you couldn't find yourself to join in with how into your head you were. Thought after thought flying high and low, some doubtful, some embarrassing, and some down right annoying. But you couldn’t help it. What if you had something in your teeth, or you stood awkward, or you trip just walking down the carpet (over nothing which would be even worse).

God, you were a mess. And the intense analyzing look Harry was giving you was not helping.

“Okay we’re here guys!” Jeff let out, clapping his hands together a singular time, while everyone else let out their excitement.

‘When did the car stop?!’

Jeff was the first to get out, everyone else following suit until you were the only one. Looking up from your seat near the door, Harry stood outside, hand reaching out towards you.

“You ready love?”

You could feel your throat clogging up from those words, the wires in your stomach only getting tighter by the second and in seconds your trembling hands were reaching up to wipe the tears running down your cheeks. Staring at all the interviewers with mics standing to the side of the carpet, the barricade holding back fans, and all the other people strutting their way down the carpet you weren’t sure you could handle all the eyes that would possibly be on you.

“I- I don't think I can do it, I'm sorry H,

I thought I could. I can't. I'm so sorry” you rambled, sniffling time to time. Finally looking up into Harry’s sad eyes, you also caught the glance of everyone else who looked at you with solace.

“shh shh,” he started, passing through the door again to sit adjacent to you, quickly clasping your face in his, using his thumbs to brush away the never-ending tears.

Your makeup was ruined, nose a debacle, as you tried bringing yourself together, but that didn't seem to work as you only began to hyperventilate.

“Oh y/n” he said, bringing your head to lay on his chest, grabbing the handkerchief to wipe away at your runny nose. “Mate we’re gonna head out, Jeff let whoever needs to know it was an emergency or something, please,” he asked Jeff, awaiting his response until he could finally close the door which he did quickly.

“No no Harry you can't miss this, please I’ll just go home, it’s fine”

“it’s not fine, I'd have to be out of my mind to leave you like this, petal, it’s okay I'm not mad I promise” he reassured.

On the way to his place the tears never stopped, thinking of how you had not only embarrassed yourself, but Harry too.

“I'm sorry I'm really sorry H,” you cried into his chest, even his expensive suit you were messing up, this night could only get better. Only getting a hush and words of reassurance from Harry.

You were laying on his bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through twitter. You knew this would happen, but you were just hoping by some miracle it wouldn't have, that maybe you’d finally reign control. Harry was in the closet putting on his sweats, and also fetching your makeup remover and clothes for the night.

Harry Styles Ditched his OWN Premiere?!

What Happened to Harry Styles Tonight?

And last, but not least

Harry Styles and Mystery Girl!, A picture of you and Harry in the limo, thankfully your face covered as it was pulled into Harry’s chest protectively. And another exactly like it, only difference is Harry’s distraught face was shown looking up at Jeff’s.

“You shouldn’t be reading that rubbish,” his deep voice takes you by surprise, looking up as he stood in front of you. Your clothes in one hand and cotton pads and your make up remover in another.

“I know” you mumble. “I couldn’t help myself”

“Do you want to get dressed, and we talk afterwards”

“Yeah” you say grasping the pile of clothes from his palm. Setting them on the bed as you stripped and changed there. Once you were done, you climbed on the bed sitting across from Harry who had just finished dabbing some of the liquid into two cotton pads, handing you the other one.

You started removing the mascara and eye shadow, since they were sensitive, while Harry began wiping down your cheek.

“I'm sorry I embarrassed you, H”

He stopped his actions, dropping his hand away from your face. His eyebrows brought together and his mouth a line of what you could describe as disgust, but not likely, and one lip tucked up.

“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, he grabs both your hands guiding you to sit on his lap. Your legs straddling his waist, wrapping both your arms over his neck. He sighed into your neck, bringing one hand to stroke the back of your head. “You didn’t embarrass me, baby, you reacted. You can’t help it, and I would never hold that against you, Yea?”

You nodded meekly in response.

“I’m proud that you even tried to begin with, I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have forced you to go.” he says.

“Thank you... And it isn’t your fault, you didn’t force me to go. Just...I don’t know. All those people H, what if someone figures out it’s me. Now everyone will see me crying like a baby, it’s even worse that your friends saw me like that.” you sniffle.

“I know I can’t magically fix this, but I promise you don’t even have to worry about them. They understand and won’t bring it up” he says trying to reassure you.

“And if the public figures out it’s me, that’s a terrible first expression” you chuckle lowly.

Harry let’s a small laugh come out in return, grasping your face to pull you closer. “We’ll get to it, if it happens...how about after we get ready for bed, we go drive around a bit. Would that help a little?” he asks, eyes overflowing in empathy.

“Yes please. Thank you again. I love you” you answer sniffling a small smile upon your face.

“I love you so much more”, he says bringing you in for a cuddle.

“We’re not starting this again” you grumble into his chest, receiving a giggle from him.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #boyfriend! harry #harry styles fic #harry styles preference

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mcheang · 3 years

Note

Lila poisons the opinion against Marinette to an important individual or company. Adds a grain of truth to the lies to make it more believable. (ex. embellish stuff to make it seem worse like Marinette's crush, clumsiness, unbelievable lies to ditch events, etc.) Over time, their perception of Marinette is changed for the better.

Warnings

This is a draft

Siena Solace is a very famous fashion designer, on par with Gabriel Agreste. Having heard of MDC, she visits Paris under the claim of a joint collaboration with Gabriel to promote Lila. Aka, Gabriel promised Lila a shot at modelling but doesn’t want to give her a full-time contract in case her lies backfire.

While working with Lila, Siena asks if she knows MDC, because Adrien had nothing but praise for her.

Fuming, Lila then tells Siena that Marinette has an obsessive crush on Adrien to the point of stalking him, trying to sabotage the competition, and even stealing his phone or trying to steal a wax model hairstrand.

To be fair, that is true. But here come the lies.

So of course Marinette is nice to Adrien and anyone important. But she is just awful to all the other girls.

Siena hums thoughtfully. “But why didn’t you tell Adrien?”

Lila: he’s good friends with Chloe, the biggest bully of the school. He is really passive about this sort of thing and tries to be friends with everybody.

Good job giving Siena a bad impression of Adrien, too.

Siena was still doubtful but decided to test her suspicions.

She held a gala and invited Adrien and Chloé. True to form, Chloé insulted many people and Adrien noticed but did nothing.

Ugh.

Next, Siena ordered one of her models to go up to Adrien and invite him for a meal while she was in town. Adrien agreed and didn’t notice Marinette glaring at the model girl dragging her crush away.

Hmm, seems like Lila was telling the truth. What a shame. Siena had been looking forward to making Marinette her protege.

Anyway, Lila’s career was moving forward. But Siena was receiving feedback from exasperated staff. Lila was pretty but she just didn’t have that model quality. She was just so...fake.

It didn’t help that she liked to brag and never shut up, trying to tell professionals how to do their jobs.

Photographer: I feel like I just met Gilderoy Lockhart’s daughter.

Sighing, Siena decided to let Lila go. Lila sure put up a tantrum and did her best to slander the company. Though leaked video footage revealed Lila’s insufferable behavior on set. Fellow models happily eliminated their competition by telling reporters how horrible she was.

Commenters also did their research on the lies Lila was video recorded saying. In addition to an obnoxious and vain attitude, she was also a compulsive liar.

Well, Paris was a bust. Siena was getting ready to head back to America.

She was surprised to see certain people at the airport.

Marinette was happily greeting two girls and their mothers from America.

Siena briefly paused. Since Lila herself turned out to be a nasty liar, maybe she had also lied about Adrien and Marinette. Mixing truth with lies always makes a lie stronger.

If that’s the case, then Siena supposed Adrien had his reasons for being friends with Chloé. And as for Marinette’s jealousy...well, love blinds...

Siena just hoped they would grow out of these flaws as they grew up. Maybe control their jealousy and take a stronger stand against bullies.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila is fired #Lila is exposed #Lila gets exposed

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong.

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself)

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!”

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes.

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco.

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly.

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?”

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed.

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?”

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?”

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—”

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,”

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear.

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?”

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes.

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me.

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —”

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,”

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side.

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

chapter 11

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

I love reading your writing! I have gone through your blog and read every post and I can’t get enough. I always get so excited when I see you’ve posted something new. You are a true delight! I hope you’re staying safe and healthy during this frightening time ❤️ Much love and good vibes to you!

Much love and good vibes right back at you, Nonnie! Here’s to hoping you and your loved ones are also staying safe and healthy, it truly is a frightening time. Personally, I find great solace in the fandom family I’ve found myself, be that people I chat to, people whose names crop up regularly or anons who send it asks. To be able to give back a little in the form of ficlets is one of my crutches at the moment. With that in mind, have a slightly more unusual ficlet because It’s not just Geraskier but there’s also a Ciri and a Cahir in this one.

Content warning for major character injury, discussions of death and discussion of mercy killing. But! It is a happy ending where everybody lives!

Kaer Morhen was still a little way away and they knew that there were soldiers hot on their heels. Cahir had warned them that they had to keep moving because Nilfgaard would be relentless. They were due to meet up with Yennefer later on, she had business to attend to. So it was just Geralt, Cahir and Jaskier trying to protect Ciri on their way to safety.

The attack came when Geralt was on watch duty. A group of eight soldiers had stumbled upon their camp and within seconds it had descended into chaos. While Jaskier was trying to bundle Ciri onto Roach, the other two were wielding their swords and trying to ward off the attack. One of the soldiers melted from the shadows too close to Roach and she spooked, kicking up. In the madness that was the fight, another voice crying out in pain and the crunch of bone was easily lost.

When everything fell silent again, there was the sound of ragged breathing and Geralt cursing as he spotted Roach, still tethered to a tree while Cahir methodically went through the soldiers, making sure they were all dead. Which just left Jaskier unaccounted for. An igni set the camp fire ablaze again and Geralt stepped over a soldier’s body to pull Ciri off Roach. By his feet was a familiar looking figure, still breathing but unconscious.

“Cahir!”

It was all a bit of a blur after that. Ciri was settled on one side of the fire before Geralt and Cahir dragged Jaskier opposite her. The flames hid most of their work from her sight but there were murmurs and hisses she couldn’t miss. Bitten off “is that-” “bone, yeah” and “just as well he’s passed out” along with “this needs a healer” to which the angered “well he’s all we’ve got” didn’t inspire much confidence. Ciri didn’t miss the whimper which turned into a full on cry of pain as Jaskier came round. A blanket was pulled over him before Ciri was allowed to see him. It didn’t do much to hide the way one leg was awkwardly twisted under it. She held his hand until her eyes couldn’t stay open anymore and strong arms carried her to her own bed roll.

“How bad’s the damage?” Jaskier asked when it had been too quiet for too long.

“Bad.” There was no mincing words from Cahir while Geralt tried to hum it off. “You’re not walking on that. Even carrying you is out of the question.”

The soft “I see” from Jaskier was one that meant he knew what that meant. He wasn’t even a liability anymore, he was an anchor. Unable to move or be moved from the camp, they couldn’t afford who knew how many weeks in one place while he healed. Even if he did heal, his leg would never be the same, he couldn’t travel with the others. “Could I have one more night please? I trust you both to make it quick, but I don’t want Ciri seeing me with my throat slit.”

“Geralt will take Ciri at first light. I’ll catch up with them.” Cahir replied. “I can make it quick and relatively painless.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier’s voice was strained from tears he was holding back. He reached for Geralt’s hand, pulled it to his cheek and took a shuddering breath as he tried to find some comfort. “You’ll be fine without me, you don’t need me singing songs for you anymore.”

“I never did,” Geralt replied, gruff as ever but his hand was gentle, the tender touch filled with love and words he could never quite express. Not in company at least.

“I’ll go check on Ciri,” Cahir announced and moved to the far side of the camp to give them as much space as possible. He could still hear the rumbles of “I’m sorry” and “I love you” that hurt more than he would be willing to admit. Over time, he’d grown fond of Jaskier and Geralt, appreciated the quiet love that was unshakeable between them. And he’d considered Jaskier a friend after a rocky start. For this to be the end was a bitter blow.

None of them slept that night and both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s eyes were red from crying but their cheeks were dry by the time they needed to wake Ciri.

“We’ll make a head start,” Geralt told her and put her up on Roach while he shouldered a couple of bags. He cast one more look at Jaskier, who had developed a fever overnight on top of his shattered leg. It really was kinder this way but Geralt couldn’t stop his breath from hitching at the soft, sad smile and the mouthed “I love you” sent his way. With one last nod and a look to Cahir, silently pleading to make it swift, he turned at started leading Roach.

They weren’t far when Ciri’s questions started up. “Why are you carrying Jaskier’s bag?”

She wasn’t to know that overnight they had rearranged their packs, knowing that Jaskier’s pack was sturdier and less worn than Geralt’s old one. It made sense that they would redistribute resources and take only the best with them.

“Jaskier’s not coming with us, is he?”

“No.” Geralt kept looking forward, hoping Ciri would drop the issue. She didn’t need to know what was happening.

“What will happen to him? Is Cahir staying with him?”

And Geralt couldn’t lie about that. He knew Ciri would have to find out but he wanted to soften the blow as much as possible. “Cahir will join us shortly.”

Desperately, Geralt hoped that would be enough, that Ciri’s curiosity would be satiated and he could just grieve in peace for a while.

“But that will leave Jaskier alone. And he’s hurt. And you’ve got his pack.” He could hear Ciri putting it all together, her voice rising steadily in a panic. “Turn around! We can’t leave him! Geralt!”

Hand tightening on Roach’s reins, he trudge on and tried not to break. Thinking about Jaskier hurt and Ciri having a meltdown over it wasn’t making it any better.

“Take me back!” Ciri screamed, voice shrill. Her “now” was lost in a high pitched shriek that went on and on. Around them the forest shook under her unbridled power, Geralt couldn’t step forward so matter how much he tried and Roach whinnied in distress.

Finally, the scream died down but Geralt didn’t move. They were far enough away from camp now, Ciri wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything so it was fine. Sure enough, there was the sound of someone approaching. Cahir stepped out from between some trees, eye damp and hands up. Behind him was Triss, pointing a sword at his back.

“What the-?” Geralt murmured.

“We heard the disturbance in Chaos and came. Your Child Surprise has caused quite the stir.” Triss said. “Imagine our astonishment at finding this rat preparing to slit your bard’s throat.”

A small, horrified gasp from Ciri had Geralt closing his eyes. She wasn’t meant to know. Even worse, she was going to find out he had been complicit in it. “I know,” he growled. “We had a discussion.”

And what a pain laden talk that had been. Confessions of words they’d wished they had more time to explore but at least they had been granted the mercy of a few hours rather than a lifetime of regret at never being able to say them.

“Yes, well,” Yennefer stepped through a portal next to Triss. “Lucky for him, we heard Ciri’s screeching. He’s being healed up as we speak, you can have him back next week. Meanwhile, you can enjoy Aretuza’s hospitality. We have created a safe space for you all to hide in until you’re all well enough to leave for Kaer Morhen again.”

Two portals opened up. One to a warm looking room with food on the table and a fire with an abundance of throws in front of it. Triss ushered Cahir through it and took Ciri, along with Roach. Next to it was another portal to a more spartan looking room, more akin to that of a healer’s work space. There was somebody lying in a cot and breathing softly as though in a deep, healing sleep. Without hesitation, Geralt stepped through that one, relieved to have been granted more than just a few hours. He and Jaskier had a lot more to say to each other and suddenly, they had a lot more time.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier whump #tldr: jaskier gets injured and yennefer saves the day #cw: major character injury #cw: discussions of mercy killing #cw: discussion of death

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seeds-and-sins · 4 years

Text

F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 6)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought’s operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn’t have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Homelander agrees to take Carly to her apartment, then someone knocks at her door.

The flight to her apartment complex was absolute hell, just like the rest of her day had been so far. If Homelander hadn't been there to catch her every time she came plummeting down to earth, she would have killed a lot of people, she was sure of it. Not to mention, the feeling of being 20,000 feet, or higher, in the sky was not easy to get used to. She hated roller coasters and airplanes and zip lining, and just about everything that had to do with heights, so when Homelander urged her to go higher she felt like her heart stopped. It was beautiful, a fantastic view of the city. However, she was certainly not used to flying in the sky, or being bulletproof, or having lasers shoot out of her eyes, so she couldn’t really enjoy that view. Homelander had to keep reminding her that if she really did fall, "You won't feel a thing", which only made reality progressively worse for her.

When they finally arrived she had ended up clutching to him like he was her last breath, begging him to sink the landing so she wouldn't blow clear through several stories in her descent. She knew how amusing this was for him, she could see it in his eyes every time she would looked to him for help. He was the worst person she could seek guidance from, but in these desperate times, he was the only person she could seek guidance from. He had been manhandling her, dragging her around, criticizing her for not being able to catch on so quick. This must had been some sort of dream for him.

Then, of course, there was the name: Lady Liberty. It was catchy and classy, but who the fuck would come up with a name on the fly like that?! No. He had been ready, waiting, ever so patient, and he said it like she was already a supe, like the name was burned into her flesh at birth. She imagined herself flying beside him, wearing his colors, flashing his abilities, what a sickening thought to think that would get him off? She used to laud the man, then she found out he was just some lab experiment, like all the other supers, and now she was too. What even was this? What was she doing? Where was she? Oh yeah, she was in her apartment. She didn’t even realize because it didn't feel the same, she didn't feel like herself.

When she entered, Homelander in tow, she went straight for the alcohol. She scurried around the bar counter, grabbed a scotch glass and poured some whiskey for herself. Homelander watched silently as she downed the whole glass in one gulp, then she tipped her head forward, wincing her lips and poured another. He then continued to stalk around, probing the entire apartment, although she knew he had seen it before. Despite it being speculation, she figured he had stalked her, or watched her in the past. The fact that he knew where she lived and that he knew where her clothes were was suspicious enough. With everything going on, she didn't really have much time to sort out her feelings on the matter. She downed another full glass, gulp after gulp. The burn of the whiskey melted into her, and she fucking needed it.

"That won't work. Trust me." She caught her breath, hand clutching as gently at the bottle of whiskey as she could.

"What won't?"

"You can't get-"

"Don't say it, Homelander. Don't you fucking say it." He shrugged, then continued to walk around the perimeter of her apartment, a full on inspection. "Can you not fucking act like you haven't seen this place before?" She left the whiskey and empty glass, turned off now by the fact that she wouldn't feel its effects no matter how hard she tried.

"I did," He paused in stride, eyes focused out the window spanning the wall, where a balcony hung. "To retrieve your clothes, remember?"

"Oh, don't play innocent, it doesn't suit you." Homelander snorted, almost nervously, then faced her again with a smile.

"Carly, I don't have any idea what you are talking about." Her bare and dirty feet padded against the wood as she started towards the hall that lead to her bedroom.

"Sure you don't." She remarked sarcastically, zooming past him.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower. Go watch TV, or something." Carly did have a moment over by the bar, where she had to reel herself back into reality, yet again. Homelander was in her home and she had superpowers, it doesn't get more fucked than that. Even more so, Homelander had been spying on her for who knows how long, and he was in her living room, and she had superpowers. She needed a shower so bad. She needed to just wash all of this shit away, physically and emotionally. Homelander watched her disappear down the hall, she could feel his eyes piercing through her.

She entered her room, closing the door behind her, as if that would stop the great Homelander. She rested her head back against the door, careful not to put all of her weight on it in fear of it breaking behind her. She closed her eyes, tried to settle in to this feeling that had been coursing through her since she woke up. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it into the hamper that stood not so far off by the door, leading into the bathroom. She then discarded the sweatpants, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. She turned to face the long side oval mirror on her nightstand, eyes softening at her damaged state. She looked like Carly, but she didn't feel like Carly.

She twisted her waist, above her hip sat a clear scar that trailed from around the curve of her side, up towards her rib cage, where it stopped. It was still there, so she must still be Carly. She watched her hand, mesmerized as it rose up to her cheek, fingers peddling against the flesh. The same flesh that can withstand anything that came its way, but it still felt soft, like Carly. The fingers slid up and over through her hair, where her lips parted and she could feel the oily strands between her fingers. She felt the tears blossom in her eyes, where oddly enough she still feel the heat in them from the heat vision. How can someone be a human one day, ever so vulnerable, then be an indestructible hero the next? She placed her hands on her waist now, taut beneath her fingers and she stared at her reflection again. She couldn't even look, the pose didn't make her feel any better or greater. It made her feel like a stranger.

In the reflection she saw her acoustic guitar, the solid black giving her some solace in these trying times. She stepped over to it, almost subconsciously, and picked up the neck. She settled herself down onto the edge of the bed, propping the guitar on her lap. Perhaps a somber tune would ease her mind, but before strumming at the strings her attention locked on something else. She caught sight of the wall beside her bed, it couldn't have gone unnoticed, it was a masterpiece of her own design. The sight of a thousand sticky notes and strung up pictures that she had painted, sketches that she had drawn. She mindlessly placed her guitar down beside her on the bed and stood, feet taking her to a single sketch that she had made so long ago. It was of Homelander.

At the time she criticized herself; the nose was too crooked, or the eyes just weren't all too great, but no, the sketch was the perfect image of him. She remembered the pencil taking over her that day, and she didn't really know what drove her to sit down and crank out his image. Of all the things she had drawn, Homelander was certainly the most elaborated sketch. The way she traced his jawline, the crisps of his hair, the subtle tiredness in his eyes, did he-they even feel exhaustion? She didn't feel exhausted right now, was that another post-compound quality?

�� She closed her eyes, and honed into the silence, giving herself a moment to enjoy this peace while it lasted. Then something happened all too soon, she found herself unprepared for it. She could hear voices, the honking of cars, the breathing, the heartbeats, the wind, it was like in the hospital that morning. Her eyes fluttered open, and her expression turned fierce. She couldn't even enjoy silence, not without hearing everybody else. She huffed out her agitation, then stormed towards the small bathroom, where maybe the water could do her some good.

It was a thin bathroom, and very cluttered, cluttered with an array of hair products, makeup, perfumes, and lotions. There was no bath tub, much to her distaste when she originally got the apartment. The thin brick that separated the floor and the shower tile was all that kept water from leaking everywhere. The curtain was an off blue, that matched the navy bath mat she had put down. She finally removed her underwear, tossing it into the hamper with her other clothes. She didn't waste any time, finding herself under the rusty shower faucet and turning the lever over. She made the water as hot as possible, knowing that too hot was no problem for her now, and also that she needed that steam and that warm embrace.

She sat under the water, feeling it trickle down over her, her blonde strands soaking and sticking to her skin. She enjoyed the stream as it caressed her back massaged her, allowed herself to be engulfed in its blissful touch. She moaned out her approval and settled her forearms against the wall above her, resting her forehead on them. This felt nice, after a second of relaxing under the water she was already feeling calm. She controlled her breathing, trying to find that meditative state that would allow her to just... Not think. Even when there was so much to think about, so much coursing through her mind. And Allen? She had tried not to think about him, about how he died. She wished he hadn't, she wished none of this would have happened, she should have listened to his warnings. What soared through her mind regarding last night made her feel disgusted in herself. She had done some horrific things and she was sure the things she couldn't remember were probably worse.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Where was that coming from?! What was that?!

Knock! Kno-

THE DOOR!

Carly felt her breath catch, she jumped out of the shower, part of the tile cracking under her as she went. She snatched her bathrobe of the hanger on the door, the door ripped off its hinges from the force.

“Fuck me.” She ground out, but kept moving anyways. Her toes left puddles of water after her as she threw on the silk white fabric. She jogged into the living room, Homelander was calmly sitting on the couch, arm splayed out over its rest, the news on full blast.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Homelander asked plainly and she ignored him as she tied her robe and answered the door, cracking it and peaking her head out.

"Billy?" She breathed out, fighting the urge to swing the door open and hug him. His eyes furrowed in confusion at the sight of her, wet hair, flushed cheeks, a bath robe?

"Carly, what the bloody fuck?! I thought you were in the hospital?" She shot her eyes over her shoulder at Homelander, who was glaring at her, unsure of her next move, but she went anyways. She exited her apartment, closing the door behind her. Billy staring at her with this crazed, flustered look in his eyes. She was fine, intact, critical condition, his ass?!

"Billy, this is a bad time." She stated, and his expression turned more into concern. He stepped closer and she stepped back, she was so afraid of touching him. One wrong move and she could kill him, with no control over her powers, this was a bad idea. Billy's expression hardened and he flung his hands up in the air.

"Carls, are you okay?! What happened?!" She noticed the flowers, and a part of her wanted to just hug him, hug him so bad. She needed a good hug, from someone, anyone. Billy would probably give the best hugs. He was such a burly guy and during their talks in the elevator she could smell the scent of him: a mix between cigarettes and cheap cologne.

"Are those for me?" She crooned, he had forgotten about the flowers, still shocked that she was even standing before him. He held the flowers up with a snort, perhaps to lighten his own frustration over the situation.

"Yeah, I went to the hospital to go find ya' and you were fuckin' gone..." She opened her mouth to respond, but he kept going, gesturing to her front door. "Then I come 'ere, and hear your TV on, thought some bloody shitfaced rocker had taken up your apartment."

"Oh, yeah..." She was at a loss for words, how do you explain to someone that you are dangerous? That you are a supe now? Especially after making a show against superheroes.

"And then, I heard that Homelander came to see ya'?!" He said, his tone filled with disbelief. "I go to your room and it was absolutely trashed! I thought you were dead!"

"Billy, I-"

"What? It's alright, you can tell me. I am here for ya'." His lips quirked up slightly, despite his frustration, she looked under extreme distress. She needed someone to comfort her, not berate her. He'd never seen her so torn apart, and it really did hurt him to see her like this. This was far worse than going to visit a burn victim, much like he had originally expected, she was far worse than that.

"Billy..." Her voice shaky, and her lip wobbled as if she was about to cry. He stepped close again, she didn't move, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Carly, I have never seen you like this before. You have to talk to me?"

"It's okay, I-I am fine." She held her hand out for the flowers, he hesitantly handed them to her, then gave her some distance. Still reeling in confusion and concern, he watched her usher herself through the door.

"Hey?" He said, she paused in the doorway, unable to meet his stare. "I just want ya' to know, I am..." He cleared his throat. "Always here for ya, alright? Us ugly faces got to stick together." She smiled sadly and nodded her head.

"I will remember that. Thank you...” She gulped, “For everything." He gave her a curt nod as she disappeared behind the door. She held the flowers in her hand, staring at the wood blankly. She exhaled a trembling breath, and then slowly turned to Homelander. He was standing, hard glare on his face, arms crossed, about to reprimand her.

“Now what the fuc-” She dropped the flowers and rushed towards him, her arms snaking around his sides and his hands flew up in surprise. He could feel all of her against, the thin material of the bath robe shielded nothing as her form sculpted so perfectly with his own. He had to admit. He had been watching her earlier, every step, every movement, threw him in a daze. She was perfect. He knew she would be. He could feel her body’s closeness start to have an effect on him and he was worried she would notice. "C-Carly..." He protested in a hushed whispered, she pressed her body into him even further, hugging him as hard as she could. He would have gasped if it hadn’t been for him biting his lip and clutching his gloves so firmly. His own arms soon wrapped around her, returning the embrace, although awkwardly.

She just needed a hug, and Homelander was the only person she could give one too.

#homelander x ofc #billy butcher x ofc #homelander #billy butcher #vought #the seven #the boys #madelyn stillwell

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kadeu · 3 years

Photo

Accepted — Dust Ashlar

♥ Ashlar Dust aka Dust looks like Ben Barnes (actor) ♥ He was born October 28, 1937; making him 83 years old, but appears in his 30s ♥ This W. Elementalist is Demiromantic/Bisexual and a Falseranking Nine of Hearts ♥ He is a the owner of The Yelling Secrets, and an information dealer

Biography

Ashlar Dust’s life started as Dominic James Robin, eldest son from a prestigious high ranked Diamond family, primary heir to both the Aster Stone company and with all the opportunities and potential to do and become whatever he wished in life. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed for most of his childhood, when he and his sister, Meredith, were put on pretty garbs and paraded around like the center pieces in an exposition about the perfect happy family. However, appearances can be very deceiving and, more often than not, the truth was a lot uglier.

The moment he’d be able to comprehend it, his mother told him the entire story about their lives. About how her marriage was naught but a simple business agreement, a supposed way to reach social superiority based on the believe that some small royal ancestry still meant something. He never truly believed that, though, not as Dominic Robin and definitely not later in live as Ashlar Dust. That wasn’t the ugly part. A high ranked family being the result of an arranged marriage was never new and shouldn’t really surprise anyone. The ugly part came from the inability of his mother to keep her legs closed.

She never told him all the details, just that, less than a month after the wedding, she became pregnant with a bastard from some guy she’d met in during her bachelorette party. Since the month they’ve knew each other was apparently enough to convince her that man was her true love – although not true nor lovey enough to convince her to give up on her social aspirations –, she decided their son should have the same opportunities as a legitimate child had. After all, the boy had still had some royal blood on him and that still could work for their experiment, at least as control group. She was, however, extremely clear about what would happen if he failed and gave him her father’s old pocket watch as a constant reminder of what he had to lose.

As one might expect, the bastard in question was little Dominic himself and, lucky for him, his mother wouldn’t truly fell in love with anyone from a lower rank, so he had the right mark on his skin, making it easier for him to pass as the perfect son. And pass as the perfect son he did. He dedicated himself to be everything they expected of him and more. He acted exactly like a polite and well-mannered Diamond child should act. He’d spend hours studying in order to get the best marks in any class his mother enrolled him into, no matter how absurd or advanced. After he reached puberty and started to develop his manacore, he focused on learning the sociopolitical games from the events he was starting to officially attend and on mastering his element as soon as possible. Even when he wasn’t the best, he made sure to stand out amongst the crowd and make his family proud.

Oh, how he hated all of that and have come to regret all the time and effort wasted into trying to fit in somewhere he never belonged to.

The only good memories he kept of his childhood were the nights his mother’s husband – Dominic was never able to honestly call the man his father – took the entire family to the Palace to watch his premieres, when the boy could get lost in a live that wasn’t his own, and the rare breaks he and his sister had on their schedule when they could just enjoy the company of the other without worrying about the rest of the world. Those moments with his sister, however, always left him bittersweet feeling. For, while he could find happiness and solace on the fact there was one person who’d love and care for him independent of anything, it’d always hurt his heart when he had to lie to her. And he had to lie about so many things to protect her, to keep her happy, to prevent her from giving up, to make sure she would continue on the right path after it was time for her big brother to crash and burn.

Because all lies must come to an end eventually, and that time was quickly approaching. As the Robin heir was getting older and closer to his first rank independent of his parents, the cracks had already formed and it was becoming very hard to keep them hidden. His social and public presence remained impeccable until the end, but when it came to his education and training, things were declining. He wasn’t paying as much attention to his classes because of exhaustion, his manacore wasn’t as big as it should’ve been, and he was slowly, but steadily falling behind his peers. His mother didn’t let any of this become public information, of course, and dismissed any rumors as ridiculous gossip while making sure whoever’s responsible for starting them lost their jobs. Nevertheless, she knew as much as her son that he wouldn’t be able to continue like that for long and that, even if he still had room for growth, it would never be as fast or as high as she wanted.

It all ended on his fifteenth birthday. He spent the last hour before midnight staring at his wrist, waiting. And, as the clock struck the witching hour, the boy watched his mark change from a Q to a 7, just like that. He was never sure if his tears on that moment were of shame, of relief or of some strange combination of both. His mother came a few minutes later, as he was packing anything he could carry and believed to be essential. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask to see his wrist, she just gave him a piece of paper with a name and an address in Heart’s territory written and left the room without looking back. Her husband, on the other hand, was less composed on his reaction to the news. Even as the boy attempted to pass by the room the couple was arguing unnoticed on his way out, he still caught the man’s attention, who insisted on being the one to throw the bastard out. After a lot of shameful accusations and threats for the boy to never come back or get close to his family again. Like it was his fault his mother had been a whore. As the boy didn’t have the energy to talk back at the time, he just let the man do as he pleased before leaving without ever looking back.

Despite the time, getting to Heart territory wasn’t hard. His mother had rented a carriage to transport him in secret and the trip was fast and comfortable. The hard part came after he arrived.

On the address his mother had given him, he was greeted by a grumpy concubus who told him his biological father had been dead for over 10 years and then shut the door on his face. Later in life, the boy would learn the name his mother had was mostly likely fake and he would never try to find out anything else about his father.

Anyway, on that moment, he was alone and homeless in an unfamiliar territory that prioritized wealth over everything else and without any possibility of going back home.

The first few nights weren’t all that bad, as he had some coin with him and his rank wasn’t low enough for people to refuse him service yet. However, he’d never had to save money in his live, so the coin ran out too fast and he was forced to start selling the things he’d brought with him so he could eat. To make matters worse, after word of his “little act of teen rebellion” got out, his rank fell as instantly as it had before: first to a 2 and, a little time later, when he still didn’t go back home, to a 1.

He completely lost his sense of time after that.

It felt like he’d spent months or even years living on the streets. No one wanted to have anything to do with a rank 1, so he’d gone days without eating before finding someone who’d accept to trade one of his few remaining possessions for anything and who wouldn’t accuse him of having stolen it. He’d also gone days without sleep, too afraid of the dangers in the open night and only rested when his body couldn’t keep going anymore. The cold weather of the last months of the years only made things worse as he fell sick with some sort of fever. Eventually, he even started wishing he could go back home, but he didn’t know the way back and, again, no one wanted to help a rank 1 child.

Until someone did.

By that time, the only things he still had were the clothes on his back and his grandfather’s pocket watch nobody had realized he was still carrying with him. Despite what the item represented, it was the only thing he had to prove who he was and he just couldn’t get rid of it. But he needed food and medicine. He was also starting to get delirious from the fever and the lack of sleep. Or at least that’s what he thought when she appeared: a beautiful kitsune woman, promising to take care of him in exchange for him allowing her to guard his grandfather’s watch for now. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, the other options for lost little bastards like him being to die on the streets or to try his luck at the red light district. And he’d already reached that deplorable state after just a single month on his own. What chances did he really have?

So he accepted her offer.

He never learned her real name. Everybody called her Holder, because of the cigarette holder she was constantly smoking from. She also didn’t allow him to use his real name, calling and introducing him as Dust, since that was all he was when they met. He complained about the alias at first, but then she would just invite him to try his luck on the streets again, since he didn’t want to follow her rules and the first time went so well, or she would tell stories about other lost little bastards who decided to go back home and how their families made sure they would never become a problem for them again. And she knew a lot of these stories thanks to her line of work, which was something he needed some time to completely understand and get used to.

According to the mark on her wrist, she was a rank 9, but her composure, manners and general demeanor was that of a face card. She also owned a small tavern on an out-of-the-way back alley mostly frequented by low rankers, but with a luxuriously decorated back room where the occasional high ranker or resistance member were received. Her real business happened in that back room, where she sold and trade other people’s secrets to whoever was able to pay. Including his own. As the boy came to know, he was a promising enough investment for the fox to pay to keep him alive. But only the bare minimum, anything else he’d need to find a way to pay for himself.

Under Holder’s protection, he realized that he still had something to sell: the morals and values his high ranking family raised him with. They weren’t worth all that much, but it was a start. The first one he sold was his pride to Holder, half a year after he started living with her, in exchange for a way to officially change factions. He expected her to talk with one her highranking clients about it, but instead she appeared the next day with a J on her wrist and everything need for a new fabricated identity for him. That’s when Dominic Robin became Ashlar Dust, named after ash and dust, just like he was when she’d found him. He didn’t complain about the new name and didn’t ask about her ranking, even as she appeared two days later back into her “original” rank.

The next few years weren’t as bad as Ashlar had expected. Getting used to a new name and a new faction wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been and the lack of expectations people had when they saw his rank was such a breath of fresh air. Luckily, Holder didn’t seem to care about what he did during his little odd jobs or about how he was raising in ranks at a snail’s pace, as long as he stayed out of Diamond territory and returned to the tavern during the night. He never knew the story she told other people, but nobody seemed to know he hadn’t been born a Heart yet and she kept him away from clients who could recognize him.

Eventually, after Ashlar had already got rid of most he still had of Dominic, he started working at the tavern. It wasn’t something the two of them ever talked about, but that happened gradually and slowly, as he found out that he liked the energetic and chaotic environment and that he was surprisingly good with both groups of costumers. Besides, the more time he spent with the low ranking crowd the more different from the lost high ranking prodigy he became.

A couple of years after Ashlar had officially started working at the tavern, Holder offered to teach him about the information dealing side of the business. She had been amused and impressed enough for doing it after listening to him answer a question about his past from a high rank with a payment request. He accepted and, while the tavern remained his passion project, he discovered a true talent when it came to gossiping and meddling in other people’s affairs.

Despite the arguably dangerous business, the next few decades of his life where relatively stable. He slowly made a name for himself both as the manager of “that low ranking bar” and as an information dealer on his own right. Just like his mentor, he started controlling the amount of money in his bank account to stay in higher midranking range – high enough to life comfortably and low enough not be threatening to potential new clients –, making sure he wouldn’t bother for it by making regular and generous donations to the most interested and necessary parts of society (also known as bribery). And his old training regiments almost immediately declined to the bare minimum for him to be able to deal with problematic drunks in the tavern.

Everything was going well, until Holder decided to leave. Officially, she died of a sudden and sickness with rumors that the fox was not feeding herself properly. Ashlar’s not entirely sure he believes in that story, even as he stayed by her side the entire time and she gave back his grandfather’s watch and passed to him both businesses and her trademark cigarette holder. It was all just so convenient and way too close after his biological mother’s death. He has no idea of where she could’ve gone or why or even if that’s a better alternative, but she’s certainly someone capable of faking her own death while everyone watched.

Without a clear answer, he just accepted the inheritance she left for him. Most of the old clients already knew him by that point, so the transition wasn’t so hard. Moreover, he’s been since able to do whatever he wants with his tavern – always a plus – and now he has control over his own secrets for the first time. So things could be a lot worse.

Of course, there’s still the matter of the people who have bought it from Holder before she left. And the recent rumors of someone looking into what happened with Dominic Robin all those years ago. He’s not entirely sure of what to do about those yet, and he knows all lies must come to an end eventually. But Ashlar Dust can still try and delay this one and keep Dominic Robin buried for as long as possible, and a little while more after that. Or, at least, until he makes a big profit out of it.

Personality

Ashlar Dust is a man of many masks. When dealing with his tavern’s usual crowd, he’ll most times maintain an accessible and friendly demeanor, adapting to the general energy of the place and joking with them like they’re old friends, but not letting things get too messy and rowdy. When dealing with clients of his information business, he’ll keep a more professional and well-mannered tone, treating them with the respect their ranks and positions demand, but still maintaining a dash of the sarcasm and cynicism of someone who knows a lot about everybody. His few close acquaintances and friends would probably say he’s an opportunistic jerk with a surprisingly soft and insecure side.

No matter who he’s interacting with, he’ll try to keep his true feelings and pains to himself. Too many painful memories and old wounds bottled up inside. But he’ll still try and dig deeper into the secrets of others, if it’s something that can fetch a good price in the market. He’ll accept and server anyone in his tavern, independent of rank, as long as they have the coin to pay – no sense of shame left from his youth – and he’ll openly laugh at anyone who believes that or the number on his wrist mean enough to be used against him. He’ll lie about his past and he’ll omit a lot of facts if not paid enough for the entire story, but he’s honest about the present. He’ll not lie about what he does, he won’t sell a gossip or a rumor without proof and he won’t sugarcoat the truth if asked about it.

The conflict between the factions and the resistance is a political game he watches with healthy doses of cynicism and skepticism and doesn’t have any interest in joining. It’s still a very lucrative game, though, and, even without direct involvement, he’s more than happy to offer his services to any and all sides that request them. And if he’s forced to choose a side to be loyal to, said loyalty is open to negotiations and will go to the highest bidder. With the caveat that someone else can always offer more on a later date.

Congratulations Erica your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon.

Please follow and welcome @fromashanddust to Kadeu!

#accepted;#follow;

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lia-jones · 4 years

Text

Growing Stronger - Chapter Thirty-Two - Loveland’s Hottest Couple

God, I’m so screwed.

I was late, by half an hour. Victor was going to kill me and chop me in pieces and serve me with his Andrea cake. Between the numerous meetings with my staff, and hours I spent fixing the many problems involving the study, from servers being down to documents not reading correctly, it was hard for me to eat or sleep, let alone be in places on time. Let alone for the photoshoot.

I have to admit, there is a possibility that my brain was subconsciously rejecting the whole thing and hijacking my efforts to do well at that photo shoot. The idea of standing in front of a camera and trying to recreate intimate moments with my fiancé was not something I was looking forward to. And… Mia would be there. Although I knew that deep down she was a good person and she meant well, part of me didn’t like her around, especially talking to my man. Ok, I may as well say it. I was jealous.

I parked my car in the underground lot and bolted to the elevator, already picturing everybody ready, waiting for me. The look of disapproval in Victor’s face. I still had to change, and do my hair and makeup, and these were things that took time. By that time, Victor was probably ready, feeling impatient, probably tapping his foot on the floor or drumming his fingers on some table, a thing he would do when he had reached his wit’s end. I pressed the elevator button as much as I could, knowing it wouldn’t make it come any faster, but desperate times sometimes require silly measures, even if it’s just to tell ourselves we did everything we could. Even the stupid things.

When the elevator door finally opened, I was washed with relief, as I realized two things: one, I was fifteen seconds away from the apartment. Two, I wasn’t the only one late. Mia was standing in the elevator, looking as flustered as I probably was. We both sighed in relief, seeing each other.

“Good, I didn’t keep you waiting.” We said in unison, only to burst in laughter.

I opened the door of the apartment, and just as I had predicted, I found a very impatient Victor, impeccably dressed, pacing in the hallway. His hair was different, parted to the side, his beautiful forehead showing.

“I’m not that late!” I warned defensively, playfully raising my hands in surrender. “I came with Mia.”

“You are late.” Victor pecked me on the lips, allowing himself to relax a little. “And being as late as Mia is not flattering, believe me.” He turned to Mia. “And you! It’s evident that some things never change!” He scolded. “Is that how you run your photoshoots? By keeping the guests waiting?”

“I’m sorry, I had a problem with-”

“I don’t care about the details of your unprofessionalism.” Victor interrupted her, annoyed. “It’s like the first years of funding all over again. One would expect you’d improved by now.”

“Well, you are the same dictator as always!” Mia threw, frustrated. “Come on, Andrea, let me see which outfits you picked for the shoot.”

After approving (and vetoing) some of my picks, Mia left me with the makeup artist. After an hour, I was camera ready. Immediately, my heart started to jump in my chest. I absolutely dreaded taking pictures. The ones Victor had of me were pretty much always when I wasn’t looking, apart from the selfies we took together.

It was surprising to see the metamorphosis Mia went through when she was in all-business mode. I had seen her in many events, but never got the chance to watch it up close. She had this determined expression, a childish small woman bossing around her staff like she was Victor. It was funny and endearing, but also proof that Mia could be a badass when she wanted it. A side of her I didn’t know, but found very refreshing.

“Let’s start with some shots of you sitting on the sofa.” She instructed. Victor took me by the hand, having me sit with him. “Just pretend you are talking, like you would on a normal day. You can even throw your legs on his, Andrea. An intimate moment.”

Sure, I could do that, right? Easy enough. Well, wrong. Everything about it felt wrong and artificial. It didn’t take long for me to start squirming in my seat, wanting to rub my forehead furiously, stopping myself before I ruined my makeup. What the hell was I thinking? I was not a model!

“Andrea, try and look more relaxed.” Mia asked from behind the photographer.

I sighed, trying to reposition myself, focusing on the moment. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what I would be doing if the camera wasn’t here. All I could think about was how bad I would look in the picture and how I unwillingly make the weirdest faces when the camera goes off.

“Andrea, you look very stiff. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

Yes, I need you not to be here. I need to not be doing this.

“I need a moment.” I got up from my chair and headed to the room, not before stealing the bottle of brandy from the little table.

The walking closet was my solace. It was perfectly hidden, no one would come looking for me there, there were no windows, and there was a comfy ottoman, large enough that I could lay on it. The perfect getaway. I took a clean cup from the bathroom and filled it with some liquor, downing most of it in one go. I laid down, my head dangling from the furniture, seeing the world upside down. I saw a familiar pair of shoes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or should I bring your meals here from now on?”

I got up, making room for Victor to sit. He sat behind me and leaned his head on my shoulder, large arms circling my waist. I leaned back, enjoying his comfort. Victor was my solace too. And I was letting him down.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I confessed. “I mean, I want to. But you know me, this is not me. I want to do right by you, I want to make you proud, but I simply hate all the attention.”

Victor nuzzled his nose in the nape of my neck, and took a deep breath, ready to reply. I interrupted him.

“I mean, look at me! I know the kind of women you are expected to date, hot tall skinny supermodels that look gorgeous even on a bad day. I’m not that! I’m just a regular woman, I’m short, I have thunder thighs-”

I was startled by the sudden movement of Victor spinning me around to face him. His expression was serious, like he was about to scold me.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Victor--”

“Stop it.” He reprimanded me softly. “Who do I love?”

“Me?”

“Seriously? You need to ask?” His annoyed expression and tone made me chuckle, and Victor turned his frown into a smile.

“There it is. About time.” His voice was much softer now. “Do you know how much I love you?”

His eyes looked into mine, open, loving. It was a gaze I was the only recipient of, and it was comprised of feelings of affection, belonging, companionship and… lust.

His forehead leaned against mine, his knuckles tracing my cheek, his eyes on me. Always on me. Telling what words couldn’t possibly say. All my doubts vanished in a split second.

“Anytime you feel insecure, anytime you second guess yourself, I want you to focus on me. I want you to look into my eyes, and see yourself through them. Because I see your true beauty, even if you don’t.”

I could get lost in those eyes. They were like a cozy blanket of love, making me warm, protecting me. Victor’s eyes were the windows of my home. His arms were my bed.

“Every time you feel uncomfortable, you look at me. Understood?” He gave me a warm smile. “Now, shall we try again?”

Not waiting for my reply, Victor got up and took my hand, making me follow him. We sat on the couch and tried to pose, but even though I was still a bit uncomfortable, I felt more confident. Victor was circling my waist with his arm, his touch keeping me calm and steady. With him by my side, I could do everything. Even a photo shoot.

We kept changing settings, the living room, or bedroom, outside, in the snow, and Victor kept his loving gaze on me, shielding me from my own insecurities, his love my solace from all the darkness inside me. Every single time I felt my stomach tighten with worry or shame, he was there, loving me back to myself.

After a while, it was time for the interview. And the jitters returned. I had never been interviewed in my whole life. What if I said the wrong thing? Worse, what if I had nothing interesting to say. That moment, I decided to let Victor do all the talking. It would be easier that way.

“I have a suggestion to make.” Victor called Mia before she had the chance to instruct us about the interview. “You want the more personal angle, right?”

“Yes, of course!” Mia’s eyes sparkled, already guessing he would suggest something good. Me? I was wondering what he was up to.

“Andrea and I spend most of our time in the kitchen. We both love cooking, and we do it often together. Maybe this will be a more spontaneous setting than the ones you’ve been using. We can cook something while you interview us.” Victor offered.

“Yes! That’s a wonderful idea!” Mia seemed to really like Victor’s food, because she looked like she had won the lottery. “Are you making pudding? Please tell me you’re making pudding!”

“Have you learned nothing from our cooking sessions?” Victor pretended to scold her. “Puddings take hours in cold temperature to set, they wouldn’t be ready for you to eat. I was thinking…” He turned to me and smiled. “Peanut butter cookies.”

I felt like a flea in a doghouse, totally in my element, in Victor’s kitchen. We made a great team in the kitchen, sharing the silent language only true companions do. While I grabbed ingredients from the pantry, he went to the fridge. We grabbed every utensil we needed for baking, without saying a word to each other, like one would automatically know what the other was thinking.

“Really, did you two rehearse this? It’s like watching choreography.” Mia was watching us, her jaw dropping with surprise.

“Great minds think alike.” Victor gave her a smug smile, positively in a good mood as well. We both loved cooking.

“And we have baked this recipe many times together. It’s not new.” I added.

“To this day, I don’t know her secret. If I bake these on my own, they won’t taste the same.” Victor furrowed his brow at me. I shrugged with a smile.

“Ok, can we start the interview?” Mia asked. “I want to be done quick so I can try the cookies.”

“Sure, ask away, we’ll whisk away.” Victor showed me the whisk, happy to have made a pun. This man loved puns. I laughed.

“Ok…” She pressed the record button on her cellphone, a puzzled and slightly uncomfortable look on her face. “So… Thank you both for being here! It’s great to see you both!”

“Thank you.” Victor answered as he showed me the peanut butter jar for me to see if it was enough.

“Sure, our pleasure.” I nodded to Victor as I answered Mia.

The interview was a relaxed one, as I was so focused on preparing the dough, and molding it into cookies. It all seemed like friendly banter, talking about our moments together, our firsts, our pet lobster.

“I still can’t believe you have a pet lobster.” Mia was dumbfounded. “And the reason you kept it, so sweet of you!”

“She ruined lobster for me. That’s not something to be happy about.” He frowned at me, but his loving eyes said otherwise.

In retrospective, there was no real reason to dislike Mia other than my own insecurity. Victor bent over backwards to show me there was nothing unfinished between them, she wasn’t the one that got away, she was just someone who had been in his life for a period of time. Victor loved me, he was about to make me his wife, and he made sure that he showed me just how loved I was by him.

Apart from that, Mia was married, and it seemed she was happily so. Yet, that didn’t take away the fear I had that she would someday change her mind and decide Victor was the one she wanted after all. They had some kind of connection that was more than just friendship, maybe brotherly love, but I wasn’t sure I was right about that. My past relationship wise was not the happiest one, so I couldn’t help but expect for the other shoe to drop.

But all of that changed when her husband, Gavin, knocked on our door to pick her up. And then I saw it. The way Mia looked at her husband was all too familiar. It was the way Victor looked at me. The same loving, open, sheltering gaze, filled with unspoken words of belonging. Mia loved Gavin the same way Victor loved me. I had nothing to worry about.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #victor x oc #mlqc fanfic #victor mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mister love queens choice #love and producer

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scorpio-skies · 4 years

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Bless me with your OTP!

I know everyone’s expecting Noranse, but I’m going to shake things up with Nara because why not! I love em just as much and they have an interesting dynamic! ;D

I was tagged by the amazing @slothssassin !

Tagging; @eluvisen, @mrninjapineapple, @beckiboos, @ariejul, @sociallyacceptablemadness, @lothrilzul, @val-rampage, @solesurvivorkat , @metalforhands, @mars-colony, @lookbluesoup , @tarberrymentats @marvilus73 and anybody else who’d like to do this! ♥

Do they fight often? If so, what is their dynamic like?

Nora and Nate often bicker over little things, though they’re usually harmless and end fairly quickly. However, when they have real fights, things can escalate and their home become a place of glacial silence and tension. The cause of these fights usually boils down to three things; Nate’s alcoholism, Nora’s rigid morals vs Nate’s social circle, and Nate’s perfectionism.

They both have the bad habit of bottling things up and not talking to each other, silently stewing until they calm down. They try to never sleep on an argument however, and always tried discussing things before they fall asleep.

The only exceptions were when Nate would get too riled up and do what he’s done throughout his life; run away and seek solace at the bottom of a bottle. When he goes sober, Nate walks their dog and has a few smokes to clear his head instead.

Angry Nora prefers to cook out her rage, taking it out on the chopping board loudly enough that Nate instantly knows when she’s angry. The cooking is still delicious and edible, and they often talk out their frustrations over the food -- if Nora has calmed down. If she hasn’t, she’ll comfort eat all the sweets she made herself!

Who is the most skeptical of the two?

This is a tough one -- neither of them are skeptics, really. Nate has more of a feel for people however, because he’s friends with all types. He knows there’s good and beauty in the world, but he’s also seen the worst of humanity, which really comes out in his PTSD following Anchorage. I’d say Nate’s the most skeptical, though post-war Nora definitely has a reality check and hardened up, although she still lucked out by meeting some of the good people in the sea of bad.

Who would be most likely to suggest a night of dancing?

Nate 1000% -- he’s the guy who knows everybody and can queue jump like a V.I.P! Nora’s a bit more shy and awkward (until she’s had a few drinks) and would only join Nate sometimes, though she’d head home fairly early. When out on his own however, Nate would be out until the morning rush hour, typically heading to bars long after their closing hours and hanging with the special regulars. He also loves to dance and sing so it was always a great time for him!

If they’re alone or in a quiet venue however, Nora’s always up for a quiet slow dance between them.

What would they do if the other was injured in battle?

Nate would fall back on his military training, dealing with immediate threats before tending to Nora. He’d then prioritise her safety over the mission and work to cut them a path out of there.

Pre-war Nora wouldn’t know what to do (in the battle, or first aid wise), but post-war with Brotherhood training, Nora would do the same, patching him best she knew how and retreating to the nearest medics ASAP.

Unless innocents were endangered, they would stay by the others bedside until they were stable.

How do their fighting styles complement each other?

Nate and Nora adopted completely different styles -- Nate prefers combat armour and moving stealthy but fast. He’s great with assault rifles, though he’s always shone when it comes to CQC being a big guy. He moves a lot faster than most can guess and with lethal precision, though if he can drop enemies at a distance, he prefers it.

Nora, on the other hand, was trained by Danse. She adores power armour and feels near unstoppable in it. Whereas Nate would rather slip in, Nora would rather kick the door down and bulldoze any in front of her, followed up by ashing with her rifle.

In battle, the pair function rather poorly because Nate becomes obsessed with Nora’s safety to the detriment of both of them. They could work well together with Nora being the big, steely distraction allowing Nate an opening to flank enemies, but Nate’s fear clouds his judgement and all he sees is his wife in danger.

Do they want children? Does it frighten them? How many do they want?

They both want children and to have a family together. Nora would be happy with two children as being an only child she felt lonely. Nate would be happy with two, though he would love to have more as he has a very strong paternal instinct.

Pre-war, Nate had a very strong fear that he would fail as a father due to his mother’s influence, and lack of a caring father in his own life. He’s also petrified that his mother would find out and want to come into his children’s lives, which he would not stand for.

Nora worried about being a good parent too, but her fears weren’t so deeply rooted as Nate’s because she knew she had her family support network to fall back on.

Post war, they’re both frightened at the thought of raising their children in such a dangerous world, but it also serves as a powerful drive for the pair of them to make it as secure for their children as possible, that they might enjoy a childhood in spite of the threats. Chances are they’d also adopt alongside having their own child if they met an orphan who needed them.

What happened when they took them home to their families? If their families aren’t in the picture anymore, how do they feel about it?

Nate has complete no contact with his family. His situation is complicated to say the least. His mother fell pregnant out of wedlock and had a hasty wedding to a man who was clearly not Nate’s father -- and his mother played cruel games with that fact, preventing Nate’s (secretly step) father from ever bonding with him. As a result, he and his ‘father’ were more awkward housemates than family who were often pitted against each other.

Nate’s younger half-brother made more of an effort, but as he was the ‘favoured child,’ Nate harboured a lot jealousy and bitterness towards him that poisoned their relationship. It grew worse when their mother had them competing, and suddenly began fawning over Nate when he joined the military.

His mother he hates like nothing else. Part of him still craves her love and validation, but he fears that she’ll poison his new family with her toxicity and knows her affection is born purely from what she stands to gain.

His mother comes from old money, and her family disowned her after her shock pregnancy and sudden marriage to a ‘lesser class.’ Initially they pretended ‘the bastard’ didn’t exist, but when he joined the military he suddenly ‘made them proud’ and his lack of a known father was suddenly a boon because his father might not be so common after all -- and the family wanted a male heir who would take their name and continue the lineage. Because of this, his mother saw Nate as her meal ticket back to the good life and the family bank account and suddenly cared about him again.

She did meet Nora once, wheedling Nate’s latest home from one of his friends -- but it wasn’t for long. Nora was wary of her following what Nate had confided, and he came home partway through her visit. He exploded and chased her from the building, feeling furious and terrified. Shortly after, he and Nora moved to Sanctuary Hills, telling no one but Nora’s family where they had gone.

Nora’s family loved Nate immediately. He’s a natural charmer, and as a patriotic soldier her parents warmed to him quickly -- it also helped that neither Nate or Nora mentioned he was couch surfing and had no address of his own at the time.

Evangeline, Nora’s cousin and BFF, liked Nate but was also initially wary that he might be a player and she, as a police officer, was less than thrilled at his many murky contacts and friends. Seeing his genuine adoration and loyalty for Nora as well as his good heart, she was won over, which eased his welcome into the extended family.

He now attends every family gathering and is honestly sometimes more enthusiastic about them than Nora.

Nate adores Nora’s family and feels honoured and touched that they accepted him and go out of their way to make him part of the unit. He finally feels like he has a real family with them.

How does each person show affection towards the other?

They’re both casually intimate with each other - little touches, embraces, kisses and snuggles. When out in public, they’ll walk close with their fingers entwined and when they sit they naturally lean into each other. There’s thoughtful gifts between them, and, especially on Nate’s part, big romantic gestures.

Who cries the most? Who is better at comforting?

Nate cries more than Nora -- he’s suffered a lot in his life, and is typically more open with his emotions. When Nora cries, she always tries to hide it while Nate struggles to. Nate comforts through hugs and gentle pep-talks, whilst Nora comforts much the same way, but with added comfort food. When the time’s right, they’ll attempt to distract whoever they’re comforting with something fun -- Nate’s likely to offer to talk over drinks, or go for a drive when he’s sober, while Nora will suggest movies and more food til they’re ready to talk or cheered up.

Who is the bigger flirt?

Nate. Nora’s quite shy about flirting and a hopeless romantic. Nate however is a casual flirt -- he’d never stray from Nora or cheat on her, but he’s naturally flirtatious and can’t help himself. He loves making people feel beautiful and confident, and sometimes it doesn’t quite register that he might have gone too far and led someone on. It’s definitely led to problems, and at times Nora’s gotten jealous and angry at him over it, though she’s come to the understanding that that’s just who he is - -and at the end of the day, it’s her he loves and comes home to, no one else. No one else. >:3

#nora hart #nathaniel hart #fallout 4 #sole survivor #female sole survivor #is it the case that nora's wrath has reared its head in some universes when other people have tried to make a move on nate?#yes! yes it has!#and both Nate and Danse are ;O-O when they see it!#as soon as i get money I'll have to get a nara pic done #I do love em!#also this is ancient and I found it mostly written in my drafts so finally finished it today yay!

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starry200156 · 4 years

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Unordinary Girls: Crystal Hearts

Chapter 1: Opening up Pandora’s Box

This an original series of mine and all the character in the series belong to me. So enjoy and tell me what you think! You can find the book on Wattpad.

I lost control of everything my mind, my body, my spirit, everything I once would call mine was gone or there was no control of it. I just kept running. I couldn’t stop or that I wouldn’t stop. I knew it was a dream but it felt so real. I kept on running, the voices were becoming louder and the muffled faded of distant voices that used to haunt my mind. Then the flames would start to emerge, my entire world turned into flames. I watched them dance as I felt my body freeze. My whole world became cold. Everything was this dull silence in my mind. I could still hear the voices almost like they were crying out for help. Everything hurt the pain became too much, then from all the chaos I could see all of them. Everything was gone this world I took that away from me then the word hit me so hard I felt myself starting to fall into the dark abyss that I’ve become so accustomed to. The words.

“It’s all your fault.”

“We needed you and you weren’t there.”

“You could have prevented this from happening.”

“You failed once again.”

“You were supposed to be our leader and you abandoned us.”

“You were supposed to be my sister.”

Everything was crashing. I was crashing and I couldn’t stop this. I’m sorry I didn’t know it was going to end like this. You are right it my fault I was supposed to protect all of you. I left you all and you needed me. I was selfish. What am I saying? I never understood why I would have this dream and yet it is so vivid. I felt some solace with this darkness I landed in; it felt like I belonged to it. Then I felt something rip through my body. It was...my spirit and I saw the light and I saw her holding her hand out towards to grab it and take it. I come so close every time I end up falling into my own destruction.

“It alright my little flower” MOM!

“MAMA!” I woke to myself drenched in my own sweat and gasping for air. It was like life was taken out of me and stuck back in.

“Neon! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Fujioka”

“It didn’t sound like you were.” Kira and I stared at each other for a few seconds. “Fujioko I’ll stay with Neon for the night, you go back to bed.” Fujioka signed and returned to her room. I couldn’t get over what happened. I've been having these dreams since I was a little kid. I still don’t know the meaning behind any of them.

“Come on, let's get some sleep you need it.” Kira, she my s- my best friend I live here with her stepmom and dad ever since that day. She has always been so caring of me no matter what she is like an older sibling you could say. I just wish she wouldn’t worry so much.

“I shouldn’t go back to sleep, I'll just go back to that place again.” I looked at her, her eyes were filled with worry. “It's that bad again huh.” Pretty much we didn’t need to talk to know what the other one is thinking, we just knew. “You know you could tell me every once and while.” I sighed. “The dream doesn’t concern you so it shouldn’t matter at all.” Kira groaned. “Cold as always sis. Someone has to look after you. It does concern me. I'm your sister and I always will be.” I turned my back to her. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.

I’m here again. It is so beautiful it feels like I could breathe freely now. Everything was so beautiful here. I saw all of them in all of the spirits. I let my feet carry me. “ Welcome back miss Neon.” It was Kuzu who was the spirit guardian of the spirit world. “You seem like a troubled little one.”

“It’s my dreams or my powers again. I’ve been old, they are just dreams.” He took my hand. “I see my little maiden. It’s both sometimes hard to tell. I also could see those humans aren’t helping much. I will make an exception for the one who is so attracted to you.” Kuzu has always kept me company here since I could remember coming here.

“You can despise humans all you want, it's not going to make them go away anytime soon. I’m also human. There are some spirits you mustn't like. Also for you information her name is Kira and she really cares about me. I know for a fact she wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.” I looked at Kuzu, I’ve always wondered if he gets lonely.

“I’m quite alright with my child. I don’t get lonely here, if I do I have you for company. For your information I do digress some spirits that come here” I didn’t say anything more. Kuzu and I continued our walk together. I did enjoy this time.

“They are worse from before.” He figured it out he certainly did.

“In a way yes they have, I can’t figure out the voices in my head in my dreams sometimes it’s screaming and crying for help. I just keep running and I can’t stop myself. It’s like I lost control of everything in my possession.” I could feel my chest tighten up from talking about it. I felt Kuzu put his hand on my shoulder. “Everything will work out my little maiden I believe so. One thing I wish for you is that I don’t want to see you here as a spirit anytime soon.” I knew what he was talking about. Kuzu had the ability to read minds. I’ve always wondered what would happen if I died. It wasn’t like I’m afraid of dying, I just wouldn’t want to come back. Being here is so peaceful. It was that cloak again I know who it belongs to. Before I could even stop myself I started running toward there. “Mama. Please.” It was her it only could be her. She vanished. I almost had her.

“Neon!” I felt Kuzu grab me and my whole world was back to normal. “Little maiden, thank the gods for helping me save you. Don’t ever do that again, we talked about this before. There are spirits that will hurt worse they will kill you. I know the internal pain your parents have caused you with their deaths. There will be one day I won’t be able to save you.” I was being selfish again. I really am a heartless creature doomed to this Earth.

“I’m sorry Kuzu.” He tapped my head. I opened my eyes and the stiffness came back to haunt my body. I got up out of bed, I got dressed and went downstairs. Fujioka was down there, it was like she was waiting for me. I wanted to be alone right now.

“Good Morning Neon.”

“Yeah.” I went to go put on my shoes and grab my bag to head out for the day.

“We need to talk.” I sighed of course she wouldn’t want Kira around to hear us. Keeping secrets again it's become everybody’s secret talent these days. “About what?”

“You become a Mage. I don’t think it’s the best path for you to follow.” She really was going there. We’ve had a conversation before and it didn’t end well. “Because of my weak body, I’m fragile, I could die from using too much magic, you need to stop going to the spirit world, it's going to kill you. That’s all I hear from everyone that I can’t do it. I’m tired of Fujioka. I’m going to be Mage even if it kills me.”

“Neon that necklace won’t keep you alive forever, you’re not your parents you’re not invincible. Your mother thought she was looking where it got her!” Of course she went, I gripped on the door handle even tighter. “DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER LIKE THAT AGAIN!” I ran out of that house and I couldn’t breathe. I kept on running. I had to get away from here as far as possible. Everybody in my entire life has tried to tell me what to do since they died. They told me to be what I desire to be. I want to be Mage to help people so they don’t end up like me or my parents.

I miss you guys so much.

I was here at their grave, I hope you guys are doing okay up there. Sometimes I didn’t even understand why I see the things I do. I don’t understand my powers half of the time. Kira is getting stronger. That's good for her. I wish you guys were still here to teach me.”

“How cute, the little spirit maiden is talking to her dead parents. I wonder if you can see them with powers like yours.” Who in the hell is this guy? I back away from him. Something wasn’t right I could sense it. “Go ahead and run like a helpless child like you couldn't save your parents.”

“You’re messing with me so you can get me angry not going to happen.” I had to figure out what he is really planning here. “Well aren’t you smart little things, and here I thought this was going to be an easy one. You Saki have very good insight so they say.” This guy was really looking for a fight and he was about to get one.

“I’m curious what my new powers can be. I’m really looking forward to using them on you.” A blast of fire came towards me. I was able to dodge it in time. Maybe running wasn’t a bad idea after all I’m such a coward. I ran towards an alleyway. I had to get out of here with him following me. It's that or use my powers.

“You can’t hide forever.” Think Neon there has to be a way to get out of this mess. Just think of something you want to blow up. Okay that works that I blew up a trash can. I made a break for it. I climb up the building in the alleyway. I started running as fast I could.

“You think you could outrun me. These useless tricks on someone who knows so much.” I rolled my eyes. My necklace glowed and my magic shield went up. “You’re such an idiot.” He threw a dark magic ball towards me. My shield reflected it back. I start to run, maybe I can burn him out if he keeps using his magic. Everybody has a breaking point. “You’re a fast little one.” At that moment my magic shield broke. He pinned me down on the ground. Well Neon look what you got yourself into. “Well you like to play hard to get, I always can get down for that.” Pervert, disgusting. I kneed him into his crotch. I got up and made my escape. “Why you li-” I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence or didn't want to know. I took a breather. I probably shouldn’t tell anybody about this, anybody would believe me. I was still on top of the building. I had to get down before this guy got his strength back. Then I saw there was a trapped door to somewhere I went down it and got out of the building from there.

I started walking not really wanting to go back home. I decided to walk some more trying to get my mind off what just happened. I look at my watch, Kira must be up by now and worrying about me and where I am. I’ll have to admit that stiffness I feel when I’m here, it’s also nice out today. At that moment, I felt a cold breeze hit. It didn’t feel right at all. A gust of wind hit me and knocked me over. Really this dude he won’t leave alone. “You thought you had the last of me.” I tried to get up and he knocked me over again.

“Using those silly little tricks of yours that won’t save you. Just use your magic that you were born with.” If I did I wouldn’t stop. Everything started to hurt. I hated being weak. I tried to get up and I kept getting tossed around. I closed my eyes and let everything flow through me. I opened my eyes and I felt a burst of magical energy out. I closed my eyes and opened them, they were back to normal. Everything hurt. I couldn’t get up.

“Shit that hurt kid. You’ve got some real power stored up inside of you.” I could hear his footsteps come closer towards me. I flash something in the corner of my eye. “That’s not how you treat a lady.”

“You look like you need a little help there.” He held his hand out for me to grab. I took his hand to help me up. I nearly fell over, he grabbed me. “You’re safe now. I’m Kori. Kori Kazumi by the way.”

“I’m Neon. Neon Saki for your information.” Who was he? “Thanks.”

“No problem. Neon if I may ask you how did he end up fighting you in the first place..”

“I was just here and walking around and he came up to me and started fighting me.” Kori looked at me. “Did you say anything strange to you at all?”

“He started saying stuff about my powers and random supervillain stuff.” Kori chuckled.

“Well Neon you did a real number on him before I got here. You know I’ve heard the rumor about spiritual users that their bodies tend to be more fragile and they don’t live long lives. Everyone different Neon doesn’t mean you are going to be destined with the same fate.” How did he know? “Don’t worry I didn’t read your mind or anything. I just could tell from the look in your eyes.”

“Neon!” Crap I’m in trouble now. “There you are what happened? Who’s the boy?” Kori dropped me out of fear of Kira. “Ow!”

“Who did this to you?” What’s with everybody and the questions today. “The knocked out dude over there and I had a little help. His name is Kori.” Kira pulled me into a hug. “I'm glad that nothing bad happened to you.”

“So Kori is your name right? Thanks for helping my sister. She can pack a punch.” “Umm. Actually I just got here to finish the job, I’ve been looking for Neon and by any chance Kira Fujimoto.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Hey Kori you need to learn not to go running off like that. Oh man you stop the guy before I got here.” There was a guy with white hair and green eyes that showed up. Something telling me things are about to get really complicated.

“This is my friend Yuki Tachibanna and to answer your question Kira. We know each other and you two aren’t going to become Mages overnight.” Yep, things got more complicated. “How do you know us?”

“Our parents knew each other Neon and Kira..” What!? Things are really getting confusing. I had no idea who this kid was. “How do you know that you aren’t lying to me?”

“You are just going to have to trust me.” He reached out his hand for me to grab. I look at him, with his brilliantly beautiful amethyst colored eyes. I can’t take his hand, something is not right. There is something about him so intriguing, I can trust with everything in me for some reason. I tried to get up on my own, he grabbed my arm. “Easy there.”

“Kira and I should go.”

“Leaving us already Miss Neon.” Kori let go of my arm. “You don’t need to, you aren’t safe here. You or Kira.” Kori was trying to convince us to stay.

“Don’t come looking for me again.” I started walking away.

“Neon, I’m asking you to come with us I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I can’t.” I continued to walk away from them, Kira grabbed me arm. “Neon, I don’t know what it is but I think we can trust these guys. We may not know them, there is something just about them, and you know that I’m not a good judge of character.” I looked at her, I stared at those big hazel oribs of hers. I sighed she wasn’t wrong.

“I know how you feel.”

“Do you remember what your dad used to say about strangers they are friends that you haven't met yet.” I turned to face Kori and Yuki. Hopefully I’m not going to regret my decision.

“Kori, Yuki, I’ve decided that I can trust you.The both of us can.” Kori looked at me and smiled.

“I knew you would.” I knew from that moment my life would change forever it would never be the same again.

#orginal story #orginal post #anime #magic #magical #magi #action #adventure #shoujo #magic world #orginal series #anime style #manga style

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scrawnydutchman · 5 years

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“There’s Always More Show”; A Bojack Horseman Essay

It’s about time I talked about one of the finest ongoing shows in animation right now. I. LOVE. Bojack Horseman. I must have binged the whole series 5 times at this point, and it’s rare for even my absolute favorite shows to get me to do that. The dialogue is so poignant I have entire exchanges between characters burned into my memory. The jokes and societal commentary are so on point that many lines have gotten me to burst out laughing among company.The characters themselves are so complex, so filled with depth, that they are all well deserving of their own analysis. The writing is SO tight and the storytelling so consistently engaging that I hang onto every little detail. I swear they foreshadow events from as late as season 4 and 5 as early as season 1. Even it’s animation, while admittedly pretty primitive character rigging with a handful of noticeable errors, takes some amazing creative liberty at times, particularly with subjectivity in the drug trips. While the art design has taken a few people off guard for it’s blinding colors and it’s premise has discouraged a less open minded audience with it’s animal-human hybrids living among people, those who stick with the show will get a sophisticated while simultaneously wacky romp that is both the silliest and most real show you can watch right now. So with a show this dense that has characters this deep, there are many themes it tackles such as the perpetual meaninglessness of existence or the pursuit to being a good person, but there’s a more central theme Bojack keeps bringing up which I’d like to talk about.

Oh and, uh, Spoilers incoming for Bojack Horseman . . . obviously. Get Netflix and watch all of this show right now before reading. seriously. But for those reading who don’t care about spoilers but are interested in what makes Bojack so great and may like to watch it themselves, here’s a brief summary:

Bojack Horseman (played by Will Arnett) Is a horse-man hybrid living out the so called “glamorous” life style in Hollywood, Los Angeles (later called “Hollywoo” in the series for reasons I won’t spoil here). Out of work, out of shape and out of touch, Bojack wastes away his days in sorrow as a past-his-prime actor who goes day to day being disrespected. Back in the 90s he was the star of a very famous “full house”-esque sitcom called “Horsin’ Around” and he longs for the days where he was in the prime of his life, but nowadays he mostly just sits around the house watching old reruns of his show. He constantly struggles with depression, dependancy on narcotics . . . and the ongoing guilt he feels for every shitty thing he’s done in life . . . and as viewers will no doubt find out . . . Bojack has a LOT of baggage. He finds new friends in life like his responsible ghost writer of his memoir Diane Nguyen (played by Alison Brie), his easygoing freeloader and best friend Todd Chavez (played by Aaron Paul), his happy go lucky Labrador rival Mr. Peanutbutter (played by Paul F. Tompkins) and his workaholic pink cat agent Princess Carolyn (played by Amy Seradis). The show centres around his ongoing relationships with these people as well as their own journeys of self discovery . . . and the occasional wacky schemes. Through his surrounding positive influences can Bojack learn to grow past his personal demons? Or will his shitty tendencies and depressing outlook permanently spoil the lives of the people closest to him like he so often fears?

Spoilers begin NOW

In what is perhaps my favorite episode of the show, episode 6 of Season 5 titled “Free Churro”, Bojack gives an improvised eulogy for his recently deceased mother . . . and that’s it. The episode is just a full 20 minutes of Bojack talking about his dead mom . . . and struggling to find anything positive to say about her. His mom was nothing but cold, hard and abusive to Bojack his entire life and Bojack laments about how he never received a single loving gesture from his mother for as long as he’s known her . . and now that she’s dead that chance is permanently gone. In his ramblings, he mentions an episode of Horsin’ Around in which the writers juice the idea of main cast character Olivia leaving the show for good, only for her to be written back into the status quo, because as Bojack puts it

“Of course that’s what happened, because what are you gonna do? Just not have Olivia on the show? You can’t have happy endings in sitcoms -- not really -- because if everyone’s happy, the show would be over, and above all else the show has to keep going. There’s always more show. (And) You can call Horsin’ Around dumb, or bad, or unrealistic, but there’s nothing more realistic than that. You never get a happy ending, because there’s always more show.”

That right there sums up the entire ongoing struggle of every character in this show. In many ways, Bojack Horseman the Netflix series is like a typical sitcom turned upside down. You have an ongoing setup of colourful, over the top characters doing outrageous things for our amusement, and in a lot of ways they’re actually terrible people but they’re just SO endearing that we have to keep tuning into their antics. Much like how an average Friends episode is about every titular friend trying haphazardly to cover up a lie for 20 minutes when their problems would so easily be over if they just had the maturity to be honest about how they’re feeling, characters like Bojack, Todd and Mr. Peanutbutter are always up to something silly whether it’s poorly covering up a lie or coming up with elaborate sabotages for selfish ends. But there’s one core difference. In Friends, everybody forgives each other in the end. In the gritty and merciless world of Bojack Horseman . . . every wrongdoing has long term consequences, some of which can never be forgiven.

Bojack’s antics especially cause permanent stains on his relationships. When he sabotaged Todd’s rock opera by getting him readdicted to a video game so he wouldn’t leave, he permanently makes a wound in his and Todd’s relationship. He only makes it worse when he has sex with Emily, Todd’s best friend and kinda-sorta girlfriend. Todd had faith in Bojack early on in the show, but he makes it apparent later on that the less he has to do with Bojack the better off he is. Todd’s an easygoing friend that can forgive easily, but Bojack really tests his patience. As he said once he found out Bojack had sex with Emily

“You can’t keep doing shitty things and then feel bad about yourself like that makes it okay. You need to be better.”

In the luxurious yet phony and superficial world of Hollywoo, everyone has an outlook on life as if it’s a sitcom. The center of mass produced film and television has everyone believing in achieving against the odds, amending their wrongs in the end and getting satisfying conclusions as if the credits of their very own movie will roll any second. But real life keeps on hitting these characters like a truck, as if to say “there is no happy ending , you aren’t the main character and the harm you’ve caused is permanent. Get used to it.” Bojack gets his hard hitting reality more prominently than anyone. He keeps looking for backdoor solutions to his pain like getting back with Charlotte, starting a new Horsin’ Around spinoff, finding meaning far away from L.A. or straight up finding solace in drugs, but every solution to his search for meaning ends in him hurting somebody else even more. He has to separate the idea from his head that shitty things like nearly sleeping with your old friends daughter is just a wacky sitcom hijinks situation, and that the guilt he feels is just an ongoing conflict he feels every day. He even tries at one point to get forgiveness from his old show writer Herb Kezzaz after betraying him, only to be greeted with Herb saying

“No. I’m not going to give you closure. You don’t get that. You have to live with the shitty thing that you did for the rest of your life.”

Sometimes Bojack will go to more silly extents for his so desired “happy ending”, like humming his own credits as he embraces Sarah Lynn when she comes out of rehab.

But as screwed up as Bojack is, he’s not the only one who’s mind is warped by the empty promise of a “happy ending”. Diane Nguyen, for as much as she comes off as the moral compass of the show who isn’t afraid to call anyone out for their bullshit, is what I like to call “Bojack lite”. While she’d be grossly offended by the accusation that she’s anything like Bojack, she shares a lot of his toxic traits. Sure, she’s not actively life ruining for anyone, but she has a tendency to harshly criticize people as a means to deflect any criticism towards herself and she often manages to find the negative connotation to even the best of situations. Also, she struggles with getting drunk a lot too, which is often enabled by Bojack. Diane makes a lot of rash decisions in her life hoping she’ll find some sort of “happy ending”. She married Mr. Peanutbutter longing for a simpler, more laid back life for she just settles down with her loving husband. However, unwilling to keep up with Mr. Peanutbutters love for spontaneity and grand gestures, she ends up divorcing him, deciding instead to try and find solace in being her own woman who doesn’t need a mans affection to be happy . . .but that leaves her empty too. Every time she gets what she asked for, she ends up having to fight all the challenges that go with it, and those challenges end up obscuring her vision of that made her want that thing in the first place. She thinks it’s something wrong with her, like she just can’t ever be satisfied.

“Why can’t I be happy? Am I busted?!”

If we’re comparing each Bojack Horseman character to standard sitcom fare, Mr. Peanutbutter likely comes the closest to fitting the mold of what we expect from a likable television comedy protagonist. Everyone loves him. He’s endearing, he’s funny, he’s sweet. He makes silly mistakes but has a good heart, and even if he does touch some raw nerves along the way he can usually win his audience back with some sort of grand gesture. If Diane is Bojack Lite, then Mr. Peanutbutter is the yin to Bojack’s yang. They live virtually the same lives to a point where Mr. Peanutbutter even got famous off of what is blatantly a knock off of Horsin’ Around, The key difference though is that while Bojack is incurably pessimistic, Mr. Peanutbutter is obnoxiously optimistic, and why wouldn’t he be? He sees the good in everything and everyone and manages to get his way shearly through people loving him. He never has to learn anything because nobody ever challenges him. But that precisely is the rub. Mr. Peanutbutter is a cautionary tale about what would happen if you DID get that life full of happy endings and comfortable conclusions. Much like how many a sitcom protagonist never learns to tell the truth or to take responsibility for their own health, Mr. Peanutbutter never grows past his mistakes. It’s why he always does grand gestures for Diane despite her repeating several times that she doesn’t like them. It’s why he keeps dating women much younger than himself. It’s why he keeps getting divorced. He never takes any kind of long term lesson from what happens to him and never evolves as a person. Nowhere is this more prominent than in Season 5. Whenever Mr. Peanut butter does something wrong, he’s usually blind to the responsibility he must take to it. He either dismisses it as somebody else being mean or unreasonable or he makes an empty promise to not do it again. But for the first time ever, he partakes in betraying somebody he cares about. After divorcing Diane and getting with Pickles the Pug waitress . . . he has sex with Diane again behind Pickles’ back. This time there’s nobody to blame but himself . . and he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he did an unforgivably shitty thing. In fact, he’s the least equipped character to do so in the whole show. He even pleads for Diane to break the news to Pickles and tries to force a silver lining by getting back with Diane as a result of it. In the season finale, when Mr. Peanutbutter has to tell the awful truth and knowingly hurt somebody close to him . . .much like a sitcom character, he instead pulls a happy ending out of his ass and decides to propose to Pickles instead. He actively decides not to do the tough, but right decision, and thus does not evolve. This is especially interesting in the finale because, for the first time ever, Bojack is a step ahead of Mr. Peanutbutter when it comes to committing to making things right. After Bojack nearly strangles Gina to death on his drug high, he turns himself into rehab with the help of Diane and starts taking real steps to self improvement. In contrast, Mr. Peanut butter . . . is just up to his same old tricks.

You wanna talk about reaching that sitcom happy ending? It’s all this workaholic cat ever thinks about. Princess Carolyn leads life with the philosophy that with enough grit and go-getter attitude you can make anything happen for yourself . . . and to an extent that actually serves her pretty well. She gets out of her hick town to pursue her dreams as an agent and whenever the other characters are knee deep in their own mess she’s always the one with the solution to get them out. She compulsively helps people while refusing to take help for herself because . . well, she wants a happy ending . . .but she wants to be the one responsible for it. She had an opportunity as a kid to have everything in her life decided for her but once she had her miscarriage and that dream fell apart, she instead decided to pursue a career in the big city. She made tons of sacrifices to get where she is including leaving her own mother, and she’s also afraid of falling into the same trap of dependency she almost fell into as a kid again. That’s why she rejects Ralph Stilton’s offer to help her with her adopted baby, even though he’s irrefutably the best boyfriend she ever had. Time and time again Princess Carolyn will willingly be pushed right up to the edge before she accepts any kind of help, because she thinks doing so is a sign of weakness. She keeps herself motivated with fantasies about that wonderful happy ending, whether that means living in a cottage in a beautiful painting or succeeding enough that some future ancestor can give her class a family heritage report all about what a great ass kickin’ gal she is. While Princess Carolyn is definitely the most well adjusted and most durable to the constant hustle and beating down of reality, she’s got her own toxic tendencies as a result of thinking she’s a main character. She thinks she’s got to do everything on her own . . . . and if she doesn’t get past that insecurity soon, it may swallow her whole.

At long last we come to mr. Todd Chavez, the endearing little brother of Bojack Horseman’s family of main characters. Upon first glance, Todd seems the least prepared for life’s harsh reality out of all our leads. He’s a 20-something year old with no real job, no real responsibilities and no real goals in life. He’s very upfront and honest about how he spends his time, be it spending all day watching Youtube videos . . . or building a knockoff Disneyland. And yet, when we analyze him with the thesis that these “sitcom characters” are all trying to get by in a cruel and merciless world, we suddenly realize that ironically . . . Todd grows the most naturally out of everyone. Bojack lets Todd down time and time again and rather than accepting status quo as God like many a sitcom character might do, he takes it upon himself to distance his relationship with Bojack. He initially has faith in Bojack to be better, but doesn’t beat around the bush when he’s lost his faith in him. When he realizes that he was nothing in common with Yolanda aside from being asexual, he breaks up with her before prolonging the painful inevitable. The cast of Bojack Horseman go through their share of changes in what they want and who they want to be, but Todd is always the one who knows what he needs and makes an honest effort to be better. He’s surprisingly wise for an adult manchild flunky. But he gets up to wacky sitcomish schemes too, about as much as Mr. Peanutbutter (who is often his partner in crime with these things) . . . yet even then through his ernestness and cuttthroat honesty he manages to overcome better than the other characters.

Conclusion:

*decided to include this gif because i love the animation in it*

Hollywoo is a world of sitcom characters pulled out of the TV and trying to get by in everyday life under the harsh, uncompromising grip of reality. In a culture so entrenched in it’s ideals of maintaining superficial likability and celebrating yourself no matter what you do or who you hurt, each character’s mind is warped into buying the illusion that for how screwed up they are there’s a happy ending waiting at the end of the horizon for them. They all deal with it with different levels of success. Some take change in life with stride like Todd. Some think they found their happy ending but only remain empty like Diane. Some get everything they ask for and thus never evolve and never better themselves like Mr. PeanutButter. Some cling on for deal life as they get everything thrown at them, believing that they’ll be rewarded in the end, like Princess Carolyn. And then . . . some are a depressing cocktail of all of those things. They have opportunity land at their feet and think they’ve finally done the thing that will preserve them, only to find themselves empty. They work through the pain in their life hoping that at any point they’ll get some grand gesture or reward that makes everything they endured worth it, only for that chance to become officially non existent. But occasionally . . . very occasionally . . . they do something wonderful and heartfelt and sincere that maintains a glimmer of hope for their capacity to be better. That is Bojack Horseman. Bojack hurts the people closest to him much like his parents did. He remains bitter and sad and petty and self important . . . but he IS better than his folks. He’s like his late mom . . . only for him the grand gesture really does come.

But as Bojack says

“The grand gesture isn’t enough. You have to be consistent. You have to be dependably good. You can’t just screw everything up and then take a boat out on the ocean to save your best friend or solve a mystery and fly to Cansas. You need to do it everyday, which is so . . . hard.”

The truth is, all of these characters, even Bojack, have the potential to be better as long as they deconstruct their worldview shaped by watching television. They have to rid themselves of the illusion. The illusion that there’s some great happy ending that’s going to make all the pain worth it. The only ending in life . . . is death. Until then, there’s always more show. Time’s arrow neither stands still nor reverses; it always marches forward. There will be days these characters make mistakes and days they do great things . . how much they do of either is up to them. Sometimes they’ll do things that they will never get closure for . . things that can’t be forgiven . . . but that doesn’t ruin their capacity to do right the next day. Bojack’s right . . .it IS hard to do better every single day. But as the jogger near Bojack’s house says “It gets easier”.

And my essay concludes . . . .riiiiiiight after this anecdote.

I think what makes Bojack Horseman so special is that it holds up a mirror to how a screen infested world has permanently warped our sense of self worth and our understanding of how life really works. In a way, we’re all “sitcom characters” roaming around real life. We think of ourselves as the main characters of our stories, that there’s some sort of satisfying conclusion waiting for us. That we can win whoever we want back with a grand gesture and that we never have to evolve, we just have to be “good enough” . . .and that’s all . . SO wrong. That mentality makes us toxic. It makes us self important and hypocritical and petty, while also leaving us empty. It makes us incomplete. We all have to learn that there’s no ending until we die, that we have to do good every day . . . and that we aren’t the main character. Everyone is important. Maybe we’ve been watching too many sitcoms and have had these fallacies drilled into our heads . . . and maybe Bojack Horseman is like a rehab for those bad tendencies. As Princess Carolyn points out in the finale of Season 4

“I got into this business because I love stories. They comfort us. They inspire us. They create a context for how we view the world. But also you have to be careful because if you spend a lot of time with stories you start to believe that life is just . . . stories. And it’s not. Life is life . . . and . . .that’s so sad, because . . .there’s so little time and . . . what are we doing with it?”

#bojack season 5 #bojackthoughts #bojack spoilers #bojack horseman #netflix #netflix original #animation #television

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snowhwing · 5 years

Text

Been Us

[SF9 Youngbin X Reader AU]

Genre: angst Warning: grammar inaccuracies; I am not going to write another angst for a long time after this :D Words: 7.1k

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2lrbKFX2KELIR5bFqqYIld

“I do not understand why braiding my hair is fun for you.”

Youngbin frowned when all he got from you was a slight tug on the locks that you are holding to braid his hair. Both of you are in the comfort of his family’s living room, watching the anime series that you both wanted to see so much but had to wait until school is over before taking the time to watch it. It was a Saturday afternoon. As usual, the two of you opted to spend both your time in Youngbin’s house. It has been that way since the first year of junior high school. Now, both of you are in the last remaining months of your final year.

You are sitting on the sofa while Youngbin is lounging in front of you, his back against your knees as you continue braiding his hair. You love his hair. Not that you will ever tell Youngbin that. From afar, it does not look soft at all. And worse, Youngbin sometimes style it in a messy way. But people have no idea how soft it is to the touch.

He said he will do anything for you that day because it will be your birthday on Wednesday and you took that as an opportunity to play with his hair. To run your fingers through the soft strands on the pretense that you are braiding it. Even if his hair is really not that long. Alright, fine. You have a crush on Youngbin - since that second year in junior high school when you had the worst haircut in the history of your life and got teased by your classmates to no end because who could blame them? It was really bad. Youngbin must have had enough of it then because he bought a wide handkerchief, formed it into a headband and put it on you. He told you that all the teasing annoyed him and since the two of you are always together, he might as well just do something to shut the people up. He did all those in front of all your classmates. It did silence everybody. Youngbin was the class president, then. The undisputed leader because people in class saw him as someone that is really dependable. He is. When he made that move to shut the raucous caused by your hair, the entire class closed their mouths as your heart started a new type of chaos on it’s own.

So, there’s that. But you never told Youngbin. Nor did anything to show him how you feel. Because telling him might mean losing him. You two have been inseparable for so long now and you have grown accustomed to being with him all the time that you cannot imagine what it would be like without him. Friendship is constant. And so, you will remain as a friend - his best friend.

“Any plans for Wednesday, Y/N?”

You gasped when Youngbin moved and looked up to you. His head resting on your knees. Your face inches away from his. You felt your pulse quicken and your heart thundered yet, you keep your expression impassive. How you manage to keep reins with your emotions whenever Youngbin does things still amazes you to no end. You scoffed and covered his eyes with your hand.

“I don’t know. Eat ice cream, maybe. Mom and Dad said we’ll have lunch before they depart again for Japan.”

Youngbin took your hand that’s covering his eyes and held it. “They’re leaving again, huh? No exceptions even if it’s your birthday?”

You shrugged. It’s not that you are not used to it yet. One of the reasons why you are also spending most of your time with Youngbin and his family than your own.

“Spend the night with me,” Youngbin blurted out. You only look at him like he has grown some antenna. “What I mean is… let’s go out for dinner on Wednesday. For your birthday.”

You couldn't help but smile as you gripped Youngbin’s hand tight. “Alright, then.”

As if you could even say no to Kim Youngbin.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Wednesday; 12:00 AM KST

“Sent!”

Youngbin felt a sense of happiness wash over him as he stared at the text message that he just sent over to you.

Happy birthday, Y/N. I wish that you would smile more this year. You always wear that frown of yours. You are prettier when you smile. See you later!

For the past four years, Youngbin has never failed to wish you a happy birthday at exactly twelve midnight. He does all sorts of things - played computer games, studied for tests that are not bound to happen, worked out in the middle of the night - just so he can manage to stay awake until midnight. He considers this a small effort. Small - considering all the things that you have done for him.

Youngbin relaxed on his bed as his mind drifted back to those moments he has spent with you. He is a few months older than you but being the class leader and student council president, he always has a lot on his plate and more often than not, he gets buried in things that he has to do and finish. In all those times, you stood beside him. You stayed beside him when he got crazy mad after that major event under the supervision of the students’ council went into haywire because of the organization’s miscalculation. Back then, nobody ever dared to go near him because one wrong word and he became a troll. He was so embarrassed how something like that happened under his leadership that he kept blaming himself. Then, you came, armed with a bottle of banana milk, amidst the growing tension between the members of the students’ council. He can still remember how you slammed the poor banana milk on his table, making his fellow student leaders tremble. You leaned closer to him, touched his forehead to clear away his hair and flicked his forehead three times, all the while telling him to snap out of it. He did. Of course, he did. He snapped out of his anger and laughed out loud then that his fellow student leaders got even more scared of him.

Youngbin could not imagine his life without you. He is so used to having you around. You have always been his solace. Always his calm and comfort. Sure, you get crazy sometimes and your mood swings are the worst in the world but those are nothing compared to how you have spurred Youngbin until now.

You cheered for him through his triumphs and losses. You believed in him when he doubted himself. You kept to his side and because of that, Youngbin feels like he can take on anything. He can take on anything because you are and will always be there for him. Like that time when he left home because, contrary to what people believe, being the youngest among his siblings was burdensome. He felt that he needed to catch up and be at par with what his elder siblings had achieved. It pained him and so he left home. His parents panicked and the first person they reached out to, back then, was you. Just like them, you had no idea where he went. But you joined the search party, spent sleepless nights and skipped attending school. The day you and the rest found him inside a sauna, you punched him in the face and collapsed because of exhaustion. He was beside you when you woke up. He received the biggest lecture of his life, not from his parents, but from you. You told him that feeling insecure and running away would not take him anywhere. That he can do amazing things, great things if he would stop being a ninny and start taking charge of his life. That him being the students’ body president, for two years, was proof enough that he’s amazing at what he does. From then on, Youngbin gained confidence. All because of you.

His walk down memory lane got interrupted when his phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID and saw it’s Inseong - the vice president of the students’ council and one of his closest friends.

“Inseong-ah.”

“Man, you should know that my talent fee is really expensive. And the fact that I stayed up all night for your mushy stuff, that’s double the price.” He heard Inseong yawn. “Everything is ready. Jaeyoon and Taeyang helped out, too. You’ll be broke after this.”

Youngbin chuckled. “Alright. Alright. I will treat you guys with beef. I promise. Thank you so much for all your help, Inseong-ah. You’ve worked hard. When you get a girlfriend, I will make sure to help you, too.”

“Stop the cringe-worthy lines, Youngbin. She’s not even your girlfriend.” Inseong suddenly sounded smug. “We helped out because Y/N always saves us from your long lectures. We love her because of that.”

He shook his head. He should have known. After a few more banter with Inseong, Youngbin ended the call. He should get some sleep now. Everything is set. He vowed that he will give you the best birthday and he will make it happen.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“You have something that you need to tell me, right?”

Youngbin looked up from the slice of cake on his plate and saw you staring intently at him.

The two of you were having dinner on the rooftop that he and the rest of his friends transformed for your birthday. Youngbin prepared everything. They decorated the rooftop with fairy lights and turned it into something from a dream. Sweet music immediately surrounded you when the two of you reached the top and everything looked so perfect. The perfection that would have brought you to your knees because you have always wanted to spend your birthday with Youngbin. Sure, you have spent almost all your birthdays with him ever since the two of you became friends but those were always with yours and his family. This is the first time that you were able to spend it alone with Youngbin. The first time that there is only the two of you.

You love every single moment of it. You truly do. Earlier that morning, you arrived at school and immediately saw Inseong holding a bouquet of pink roses for you. Pink roses are your favorite flowers. During your break after your third class for the day, Jaeyoon intercepted you in the hallway and gave you a lunch box with fried chicken, kimchi dumplings, kimbap and seaweed soup in it. Those were your favorite food to eat during lunch. Halfway through your afternoon classes, Taeyang appeared outside your classroom to hand you three bottles of banana milk, all the while telling you “happy birthday”. Banana milk is your go-to drink. Therefore, you are already having the best day. The surprises did not end there, though. When you stepped out of the classroom after your last class for the day, Youngbin was already outside waiting for you. He held out his hand and you took it; ready to go anywhere Youngbin would lead you to.

However, something has been nagging you for weeks now. Something that you really have no concrete basis as to why it is making you feel on the edge and scared.

You first noticed it when Youngbin started to spend time with you more often than usual. He started picking you up at home so that both of you can go to school together; even going through the lengths of walking you to your classroom. Then, he would once again be there after every class. He has asked you to spend your free time in the students’ council office but you turned him down on that because you are not a student leader and you think that your schoolmates will finally think there is really something going on between you and the students’ organization president if you do that. Plainly said, Youngbin has been unusually clingy and as much as you love spending time with him, it bothered you because you think something is really going on. Something he is not telling you.

He gave you a slight smile that only made your heart thundered. Something is really going on. “You really know me, huh? I can never hide anything from you.”

You put your fork down and held his gaze. “I thought there is no secret between the two of us.”

He shook his head. “This is no secret, Y/N. I am just waiting for the perfect timing.”

Perfect timing? You swallowed; feeling your heart on your throat.

Then, Youngbin gave you his brightest smile. The smile that could light up an entire place. Your favorite smile. “Y/N! This is it! I am going to start training as an idol next month! Inseong, Jaeyoon and Taeyang got accepted, too!”

At that moment, all you wanted was to erase his smile.

Youngbin has always been a talented dancer. His moves were both fierce and graceful. In addition, he has a knack in writing songs and spitting lyrics after lyrics when he is rapping. Aside from being a student leader, Youngbin and his friends are all active in the school’s performing arts. Girls swoon over him whenever he is on stage during school events. Though it annoys you to no end, you understand how those girls feel about him. How can he not be a remarkable sight when he is the president of the council and at the same time, an amazing dancer?

He often told you, mostly through jokes and amidst nonsense talks, that he wanted to go to Seoul in the future. He would become an idol, get famous and, when he will have enough money, he will take you to travel to any parts of the world that you wish to see. It was a beautiful dream that he has shared with you. A beautiful dream yet, now that it is finally taking shape, you cannot bring yourself to rejoice.

Because you know that once Youngbin leaves for Seoul, your lives will never be the same again.

Youngbin saw the myriad of emotions that went through your face that day. At first, it was disbelief, shock and finally, pain. Your smile lackluster and your words robotic when you congratulated him. He felt his world collapsing.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“I think that was not the reaction that you expected to get from me, huh?”

Both of you are already sitting on the front porch of your house. Your head on Youngbin’s shoulder.

“Well, I thought you would be as happy as I am.”

There are no secrets between you and Youngbin. Well, except for how you truly feel about him. How you are so in love but you are just pretending because you do not want to lose him. Telling each other how you feel is second nature to both of you now. Both of you agreed that you are most comfortable with each other when you both let the other know how you really feel.

You sighed as you felt Youngbin’s head rests on yours. You wish you could stay like this, with him, forever.

“I am happy. I am so happy for you. I am just scared.”

“Scared of what?

“That everything will change. Your life will change for sure. Our friendship will change. Our proximity will no longer be like this. Our bond. Everything.”

He draped his arm on your shoulder as he pulled you to a hug. “Nothing will change. We are not even sure if I am going to make it on the first week of training. There will be others who are exceptional.”

“You will make it. I know you will. You are already amazing as you are now. Imagine what you will become after a proper training.”

“None of these will change, Y/N. I promise you. You will still have me, your best friend.”

The two of you did not say another word after that. You stayed inside Youngbin’s arms; afraid that if you let go of him now, you will never get the chance to hold him again. You will not hold him on that promise because you know, even now, that he will not be able to fulfill it. You just have to learn how to brace yourself when that time comes. To accept the drastic change, may it be painful or not.

For now, you vow to yourself that you would spend as much time as you can with Youngbin. You will make memories with him. Share moments with him. So that when he leaves you for his dream, you will have memories that you can keep.

Two weeks after that night, you were waving your hands to the departing train that took Youngbin to Seoul.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Few months after…

Today is one of those days when Youngbin just wants to go home. His clothes are already inside his bag. All he has to do now is storm outside, head to the train station and he will be on his way to see you.

He is thankful that there are still a few things stopping him from doing so.

Every time his body moves for a dance, the music enveloping him, he felt so much freedom. Rapping makes him feel like he can express everything, anything, and the world will know of all the emotions he keeps inside of himself. His dream is more than just getting famous. He doesn't care if he gets famous as long as he can touch hearts through his dance. The idea of starting a career in the entertainment industry soon is daunting him to no end but he wants to push through and try it out. Whether he gets to debut or not after, he will not think about that now. He wants to do it because he does not want to live a life with regrets and with so many questions as to why he did not try.

Training is hell, to say the least. Youngbin, Taeyang, Inseong and Jaeyoon started their training together. They were part of the members who would form the first boy dance group of the agency. That was enough pressure as it already is. However, the agency has another plan for them. They decided to put them through a survival program. They will battle against another group and the winning team will get the chance to debut first.

The pressure was so overwhelming. On top of that, the group decided to make him as the leader. He feels proud and honored. However, it was taking a toll on him. Now that they are close to the final battle, Youngbin is on the verge of finally calling it quits.

Apparently, his patience is something that he needs to work on whenever you are not around. A week ago, he snapped at Hwiyoung – one of their youngest members – during practice that made the younger one cry. Youngbin is one hell of a perfectionist and the pressure getting on to him was not helping at all. He was able to patch things up with Hwiyoung, though. It tears him apart that he has no choice but to be adamant on his members’ training. It pains him how they put so much trust and respect on him when he feels that he is just as lacking.

Amidst all these, Youngbin only wants to be with you.

He badly missed those times when he was tired after a long day in the council, planning for an event, and he would go straight to you. He missed sitting beside you after the exams. He missed drinking banana milk and eating kimbap with you. He missed being productive with you. He missed procrastinating with you.

You always seem to know the right words to say to him whenever he feels like snapping. How you manage to rein in his storms is still beyond him. You can temper down his flames. You can fire up his coldness.

After a few months away from you, Youngbin finally admitted to himself that he is in love with you. He needs to be near you, not because you calm him down, but because he wants to be with you. He wants to be near where his heart is. Funny how he kept on denying how he feels even to himself when Inseong nagged him to no end about it. His friend is too observant for his own good. Inseong even told him to confess to you before leaving for Seoul. Youngbin did not, though. Back then, he knew you are important to him. He knew that he could not imagine life without you but it was not enough to name it “love”. However, when he arrived in Seoul, no longer feeling your presence beside him, everything fell into place. He is in love with you.

And so, that was what spurred Youngbin until now. He vowed to continue working hard on training despite the gnawing feeling that your absence has brought him. Once everything is over, he will finally make his way back to you.

You will still be there, right?

-0-0-0-0-0-

[Y/N’s] Three years after…

You lost your best friend and the man you love.

That day when Youngbin left for Seoul, you told yourself that you would accept anything that will happen with a light heart. However, it was so difficult, painful, almost crippling.

A month or so in training, you and Youngbin were still able to catch up through phone calls at midnight or in the wee hours of the morning. You have sacrificed sleep because talking to Youngbin became more essential than sleep. He kept updating you on the ins and outs of his training life. You have memorized his training schedule like the back of your hands. When they started competing on that survival show for a chance to debut, the phone calls and messages from Youngbin became lesser. You understood, though. The fact that you can still see him on television and somehow still get updates about him got you by. Seeing him healthy made you happy. When his group won the survival battle, you had to restrain yourself not to host a victory party in your hometown. Even though you missed him badly, his triumph was a win for you, too. It made you happy that his dream is finally coming true.

Your heart got badly broken a week after their debut when you saw that all your pictures and those pictures with you and Youngbin in it are no longer in his SNS profiles. You sent him a message about it. It took him a week to get back to you. He informed you that your presence in his SNS profiles caused a stir and he has no choice but to delete all your photos together. He told you it was also for your own good. That he did that to protect you. You tried to understand him but it did not lessen the brunt of what happened. Few weeks after that, Youngbin deactivated all his SNS accounts.

You could never forget that one summer when Youngbin’s father got ill. He did not inform you that he will be visiting his family but you got a call from his mom. She told you that Youngbin is home. You were out for a business trip but you immediately took the ride going back home because you miss him badly and you just have to see him. You have not even reached the gate when his manager told you that it is not wise for people, even those who know the two of you, to see you together. Therefore, you did not get the chance to see Youngbin that day.

The change that you feared so much before was happening inevitably.

The daily conversation and phone calls between the two of you lessen and lessen until those became close to non-existent. It took a year of waiting before both of you got the chance to spend time together again. Well, you cannot really call it “spending time” but at least you got the chance to talk. Youngbin was home for Chuseok, then.

“Y/N, are you home now?” He said in a phone call. “Can we perhaps see each other?”

You reined in the loud beating of your heart. “I just got home from the temple. You can drop by if you want.”

“Okay, I will see you, then.”

You did not have to wait long because Youngbin immediately made his way to your house. It took a while before the two of you were left alone to talk because your family congratulated him and his group’s rise to popularity. All the time, you were just looking at them. When they finally let the two of you be, you led Youngbin to the back garden of your house.

“How are you, Y/N?”

It pains you how awkward he sounded. He is your best friend. He is not supposed to be this awkward around you. The distance has really left a gaping hole between the two of you.

“I told you everything will change.” You saw how Youngbin turned to look at you. “I told you nothing will be the same again.”

Youngbin took your hands, like he always did. Strange how it did not do anything to comfort you now. “Y/N, I am sorry. This distance – I know this is all my fault. The company has restrictions. I know that should not stop me but, Y/N, I am so close.” He was looking at you with so much desperation and longing. Your stomach was in tight knot when he continued. “Do you want me to give this all up and return to you, Y/N?”

Your eyes widen. He would give up everything for you? He can’t be serious now, can he?

You reached out to touch his face - like you usually do whenever you feel that Youngbin is going through a lot. Just like before, Youngbin moved closer and leaned in to your touch. “Your dream is my dream, too, Youngbin-a. How can I let you give that up?”

He reached out and cocooned you in his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “But I want to dream with you, Y/N. I want to share this with you because you matter to me more than this dream does. Despite all that I did, would you believe me if I tell you that I am in love with you? Because I am, Y/N. I am in love with you. Can we stop pretending now? Can we just tell each other that we missed being together because we love each other - not as friends but more than that? You feel the same way for me, right? If you tell me to give these all up, Y/N, I will do it. I will do it without batting an eye.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you stroke Youngbin’s back to comfort him. “Like what I said, your dream is also my dream. How can I let the man I love give up his passion for his craft? I admit that this is hard. Really hard. But I will be with you through all these, Youngbin-a. So go back there and make me proud. Make us all proud.”

Youngbin left the next day - leaving a chaste kiss on your lips. A promise that no matter what happens, the two of you will see this through. Despite the brief reunion, your heart gained strength to continue loving him in distance. After all, Youngbin loves you, too.

It has been two years since that day. Two years since you promised Youngbin that you will stay with him no matter what. It was a futile promise. You should have known by then. Considering the separate lives that both you and Youngbin are living, the separation was something you should have expected.

It did not take long before your relationship with Youngbin surfaced on paparazzi sites and articles. His group’s fans are the nicest but most members of the media are not. Old pictures of you and Youngbin went viral online and it took a lot of effort from his agency to put those all down. It even reached a point when your father has to take you to and from work just to make sure that you arrive and leave home safely. In one of the boys’ press conferences, Youngbin was not able to escape the question thrown at him by the media about you. To not cause further uproar, his manager went down to your hometown that night and told you that the best thing you can do to support Youngbin is to let him go. So you did.

That same day after you spoke with his manager, you called Youngbin and asked him to just end things between the two of you. He did not asked you why. His tone blank. As if he was expecting it to happen. What you did tore you to pieces. It was so painful but it has to be done. You can never destroy something that he has worked hard for.

Your phone vibrated with a notification from one of your SNS account, taking you back to the present. Upon checking the notification, you saw it was from the boys’ fan club account. The schedule for 빈,us is now up. You could not help the sad smile that appeared on your lips. This has been your life for the past two years. For the past two years after you remove yourself from Youngbin’s life. You spent most of your time as his fan - as a Fantasy. You went to fan meetings, concerts and any fan events - always situating yourself where you can see him, but where he cannot see you. Fan meetings gave you the chance to meet Youngbin but you just went and never go up where he’s sitting with the members. Even all those, your all time favourite were the Monday evenings when Youngbin usually schedules his weekly segment of 빈,us - his very own show where he broadcasts himself while reading Fantasy’s concerns and giving his thoughts and advice about those. You always feel proud seeing how he connects with his fans. You feel elated whenever you see articles and posts about him being a charismatic leader. Because he is. Despite the screen and time zones separating him from his fans in Korea and around the globe, nobody can deny the fact that Youngbin emanates so much love for them. Seeing how he is now and what he has become somehow lessen the regret that you have been feeling when you let him go.

When you open your phone, Youngbin’s broadcast was about to start. You could not help but smile when you saw the number of hearts - 3 million - even before the broadcast started. Fantasy are really the best.

As if you lost all faculty of senses, your hand reached to clutch the front of your shirt when Youngbin sat in front of the camera and greeted everybody. After a week of so much stress because of work and because of the never-ending turmoil of your own emotions, you felt yourself relax and lulled by his voice. 빈,us is your weekly dose of healing; a day and time where you feel most close to him.

“Fantasy, really. You are all amazing. Thank you so much! Manager-nim told us that the tickets for Seoul concert are all sold out. We are preparing well for you so that we can give you the best stages so please wait for us and let’s all meet soon.”

You glanced at the ticket on your bedside table. When you bought that a few weeks ago, your best friend told you that you are nothing but a masochist; that you are suicidal. But since that day in junior high school, when you stood beside Kim Youngbin, you vowed that you will support him on everything and anything that he will do. And so you have and will always do. You picked up the ticket - the concert ticket for UNIXERSE Seoul.

-0-0-0-0-0-

[Youngbin’s] 3 years after… UNIXERSE Seoul D-DAY

The world would take someone precious away from you, almost making it impossible for you to survive. The world, also, lets people into your life and they would eventually become your world.

Youngbin had that bittersweet realization when he lost you but found Fantasy at the same time. He lost a big part of himself yet, he found people who would fill in a part of him that would never be filled by anybody else.

From the dressing room where he is now, he could hear the loud cheer of his beloved Fantasy from the outside. One by one, they started filling in the venue, taking their places with smiles plastered on their faces. He and the members prepared a lot for this concert since this is the kick-off for their Asia Tour. Despite all those preparations, Youngbin’s nerves are getting the best of him. He wants to give nothing but the best to Fantasy who have been loving and supporting them since day one.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Jaeyoon tapped his shoulder.

“Hyung, someone is here for you.” The younger one gestured towards the dressing room door. “She is waiting for you outside.”

“Huh? Who is it?”

Jaeyoon gave him a sad smile which confused him even more. “It’s best if you would just go and meet her, hyung.”

Her? He had already met his family earlier today when they dropped by the dressing room to cheer and congratulate him and the members. Could it be that his nuna forgot something?

On his way outside, Youngbin saw Hwiyoung untangling the wires of his in-ear piece. His little brother looked so out of it that he almost stop to check on him before heading outside. It pains Youngbin that he could not do anything for Hwiyoung’s broken heart. Brave of him to assume that he can help Hwiyoung out when his own heart breaks everytime he remembers you. Ironic how Hwiyoung is in the same boat as he has been few years ago.

Reaching the door, Youngbin looked up and froze in his place. How could he not when you are there, standing in front of him?

His eyes must be playing tricks on him. It has been years since he last saw you; years since he last spoke with you. The only reminder that you once existed in his life were the constant ache in his heart whenever he remembers your name. His best friend. His beloved. So how come you are here now, standing in front of him? He is too afraid to move. Too afraid that he is seeing a mirage, that you are standing there because his mind conjured you. He misses you like hell, that’s for sure.

You are holding a fan slogan with his name on it, their group’s official light stick and a bouquet of pink and white roses. Youngbin could really swear that he is just imagining you.

“Hello, Youngbin-a.”

A painful sound tore from his throat as he took large steps towards you and immediately took you in his arms. He felt you wrapped your arms around him. At that moment, he could swear that he is finally, finally home. Everything faded into the background. All sounds became muted. He could only feel your warmth, he is only aware of your scent, constricting his heart to the point of pain.

He no longer cared about the time and place. He will not let you go. Not anymore and not this time. If it was not for Jaeyoon who must have stepped out to check on him, Youngbin would not have let you go.

“Hyung, if you need more time to talk with Y/N, do it now. We still have an hour and thirty minutes before the concert will start.” He pointed to the open door leading to the stairwell. “Go there. I will keep watch. Manager-nim went out to buy food for us.”

He was about to grab your hand when you stepped back, one hand out to stop him.

You smiled. One that did not reach your eyes. Yes, Youngbin notice that. He fucking noticed that so he does not understand why you are doing this.

“I… I just want to congratulate you and the rest.” You gave him the flowers. He did not made any move to accept it so Jaeyoon stepped in and took the bouquet from you. Your smile faltered even more. Good. It is good to know that this is painful for you as much as it is for him.

“Jaeyoon, leave us.”

“But hyung…”

“Go and see to it that the members are ready.”

He could feel that Jaeyoon still wants to protest. The only thing that must have stopped him from doing so is the tone of Youngbin’s voice. It was the voice of their leader. The voice that he rarely uses. The last time he did was few months ago when he delivered the news about the rumor that stirred up because of Hwiyoung’s closeness to one of their staff. After that day, his little brother opted to keep things to himself and ended up in seclusion inside his music studio. Youngbin hates it when he is left with no choice but to use that tone of voice to his members. But he needs to be alone with you. He needs to set things straight with you. It has been long overdue.

“Why did you come here, Y/N?”

He saw you took a deep breath. Under the slogan that you are holding, you took out a white envelope. “I hope this will explain everything.”

He took the letter with so much resentment in his heart. “You think this would explain everything? These pieces of paper, Y/N?”

“Your manager did not leave to buy food for everybody, Youngbin. He is just on the other side of this hallway. I asked him to give me time to talk to you but I know it will not be enough.”

You stepped closer to him and reached out to place his hand on your cheek. He felt you leaned into his touch as tears swelled from your eyes. “Youngbin-a, despite everything that happened, I want you to know that I have regretted every single day that I am not with you. I made a mistake and I am so sorry for hurting you. You do not deserve the pain that I have caused you. I am so sorry.”

Youngbin held your hand when you stepped back. Not yet. You would not leave him with just that, would you? His heart breaking on the sight of you clutching the light stick to your chest as if your life depends on it. As if it is the only thing that is anchoring you to this world. “That letter contains all the things I could not tell you now. The things I should have told you before. I am not asking you to forgive me. I know this is shameless of me but I want you to please read the letter.”

Both of you looked up when you heard someone cleared his throat - manager-nim. Your time is up.

It took all his willpower for him not to drop on his knees when you took his hand and kissed it. Without looking back at him, you run outside, away from the backstage, away from him.

Youngbin-a~

I love you.

I think I should let you know that before anything else. I have been given thousands of chances for me to say those words to you but I have foolishly let those go. I should have told you that time when you saved me and my bad hair. I should have told you those afternoons we spent in you family room while watching movies. I should have told you that I am in love with you that’s why I asked to braid your hair that day before my birthday. I should have kiss you and confess to you that night when you took my hands and waltzed me for my birthday dance. I should have told you that I love you and the thought that you will leave for Seoul to become an idol that day scared me like no other.

Now, I regret every single bit of those moments that I wasted. It was bold and foolish of me to assume that you will be with me forever - that you will stay even if I would not make any move for you to do so. Because I know that if I told you how I really feel, you would have stayed. You would have given up your dream for me.

Your dreams are one of those things that I could not... would not want to take away from you. I told you they are my dreams too, remember? But, that does not give me an excuse of why I hurt you. I should have done better. You mean the world to me, Youngbin-a. Knowing that, all these time, I have been hurting the man I love is something that I have and will always regret.

I wish life would give you all the beautiful things that you deserve. I pray that you will never lose your genuine laugh. I pray that the people you are with now will stay with you forever. I know they will because it is impossible not to love you.

I will keep on supporting you from afar. Do not think of me anymore. Do not think of the girl who did not fight for you. I gave you up too easily, Youngbin. I am so sorry.

Goodbye.

An hour after, Youngbin and the rest of the boys set the stage on fire with their performances and solo stages. He bared himself and poured his heart out during the encore - to Fantasy, to you. This will be the last time that he will think of you. He swears it. His entire being just refused to accept the words that you put in that letter. It did not make any sense. None of it does. It did not make any sense when you let him go. It did not make any sense when you did not do anything to fight for him when all he wants is to fight with you. You stepped up without considering how he feels. No amount of words, nor any written or uttered apologies, would make him understand why you have easily let him go.

#sf9 #youngbin #kim youngbin #inseong #jaeyoon #dawon #rowoon #zuho #taeyang #hwiyoung #chani #youngbin x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #angst fanfiction

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write-havoc · 4 years

Text

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 14

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

There’s an air of tension as the couple rides away from Shady Belle. Despite the fact that Emmeline still doesn’t know exactly what happened between Arthur and Dutch, she isn’t eager to bring it up just yet. Arthur has never been that great with opening up emotionally, and it’s obvious by the look on his face that he’s very upset. It’s quite possible that forcing him into the conversation before he’s ready could make matters worse, which Emmeline certainly doesn’t want to do.

Before too long, they ride up to a small stone cabin nestled in amongst some trees. It’s a little run down, but not at all in horrible shape. It’s actually quite quaint, if Emmeline were forced to put a word to it.

“You know who lives here?” she asks as Arthur helps her dismount from Miss Susie.

“Some family did,” he answers while the two approach the front of the house. “But they ain’t coming back.” He opens the door to allow Emmeline to go inside, but makes no move to close it behind them.

She walks into the stuffy cabin and looks around. It’s only one room, counters and stove along the back wall with a small living area directly in front of the door they’ve just gone through. There are two lofts on each side accessible by ladders, which she supposes could be where the family slept as there are no other rooms. “How do you know they’re not coming back?”

After he opens the side door to let more fresh air in, he turns back to her. “I found ‘em all dead a while ago. Suffocated from that.” He points to the noticeable crack in the stovepipe off to his right. “Smoked ‘em out, I guess.”

“That’s awful,” Emmeline whispers. “Those poor people.”

“I buried them out back after I found ‘em. It looked like they was dead several days. And no one came around, so I assume they ain’t got no other family. We should be alright to stay here for a while.” He walks over to the stove and begins to study it. “I gotta fix this up so we can eat, though. Don’t wanna smoke ourselves out, too.”

Emmeline just nods, allowing Arthur to get to work in silence. While he does that, she finds a broom in the corner and starts to sweep out the dust lingering on the floor. As she tidies up, she finds a children’s book on a little end table beside a rocking chair. The sight brings tears to her eyes. Arthur had said it was a family that had died here. That apparently meant children, too. The only solace she can find in the situation is that at least Arthur buried them properly and they’re at peace now together.

As the sun sets and with the cabin as clean and fixed up as it can be at the moment, they settle in. Arthur’s repair job on the stovepipe does the trick and they make their dinner without any incident. While they eat, that pervasive awkward silence of the day still surrounds them. Emmeline knows that Arthur is hurting and it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid the topic of his exile as he continues to stare down at his plate.

Finally, he decides to say something. “The ride wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“I just... I heard women with child shouldn’t be on horses much.”

“I feel just fine,” she answers with a little chuckle, then decides this might be a proper segue into the conversation they’ve been avoiding. “Are you alright, Arthur?”

He looks up at her concerned face and lets out a heavy breath. “No. I don’t reckon I am,” he answers honestly.

She reaches over the table to place her hand on his, hoping to portray that it’s okay to talk with her. “What is it? What happened?”

With a heavy sigh, he decides to answer, figuring he’s put it off long enough. “You heard Dutch. He don’t wanna see me anymore.” The emotion he tries to hide bleeds through regardless, making the last words choked.

“I don’t understand. Why would he say that?”

Arthur hesitates, but pushes forward. “He wanted me to go with him on some job and I told him no.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I shoulda just went,” he mutters into his chest as regret starts to build.

“Why’d you say no?”

He looks up at her, his eyes glassy of their own accord. “It seemed too dangerous. And-“ he clears his throat. “And I told him I didn’t wanna get myself killed cuz you was pregnant. That’s... when he got really angry. Literally threw me outta the room.”

Emmeline is shocked at the revelation because she thought she has been building a real relationship with Dutch. He had seemed so proud to have her as a daughter and she was actually looking forward to telling him of his upcoming grandchild. The fact that he reacted so poorly has her dumbstruck. She truly thought he’d be happy about it.

“That’s- He got angry because of the baby?”

Arthur nods, trying to steel himself. “Nearest I can figure.” He shakes his head. “He never really did want me with you. He punched me in the face when he first found out. Guess he never thought I was good enough. And apparently I ain’t his family ,” he seethes, Dutch’s final words to him repeating in his head.

Emmeline, when you come to your senses and leave him, you’ll be welcomed back. You always will. You’re family .

Dutch chose his words carefully; Arthur is sure of that. Stressing that Emmeline is his family also stressed that Arthur isn’t .

Emmeline shakes her head in disagreement. “I don’t know why he said that. Of course you’re good enough. And just because you ain’t his blood don’t mean you ain’t his family. He should consider you his family, more so than anyone else. Especially me. I haven’t even known him that long.”

He shrugs and looks away, not trusting his own voice to refute her claim.

“Look at me, Arthur.”

Reluctantly, he does. And as he lifts his head, a tear escapes, tracking down his cheek to disappear into his beard. With that first tear, his resolve to keep everything held back crumbles into a million pieces.

“All them years,” he chokes out softly, but soon grows in intensity. “Twenty years of doing everything he’s ever asked of me. You know how many beatings I took? How many bullets? How many nights in jail after getting caught doing what he told me to do.” He stands from his chair to start pacing, feeling as if his bones want to jump out of his skin. “Since I met him, all I ever wanted to be was him. What now?!” He turns to her. “He threw me away! Like I was nuthin’ ! All them times he called me son...” He shakes his head as more tears fall. “I love him like a father. How can he put a gun to my head and tell me he never wants to see me again?!”

The weight of those words finally becomes unbearable and he crumbles to his knees in a fit of tears. It’s as if every bad emotion he’s ever bottled away rises to the surface and he’s powerless to do anything but cry openly. All those doubts and fears that he’d get the people he cares about killed. The insecurities he’s felt as a man that could never keep a woman. The guilt of all the people he’s hurt. All of it weighs down on him like a pile of bricks.

Emmeline is quick to go to him to offer what comfort she can. “Please, Arthur. I hate seeing you like this,” she says as she rubs his back. “I don’t know why Dutch would do what he’s done... But I bet he’ll see that he was wrong. Because he is wrong, Arthur. You are a good man. Good enough for me and everybody else.” She takes ahold of his face and tilts it to look at her. “Maybe it don’t mean much, but I love you, Arthur. I love you and our baby and whatever life we have together. We have our whole future ahead of us. So please don’t be sad. I just want you to be happy.”

It’s not that easy, of course. He knows he can’t just shut off the betrayal that he feels deep within his soul over Dutch’s actions. Or the loss of being away from all the people that he considered his family. But hearing that Emmeline, such an innocent, good person actually loves him, makes him feel a little better. And her genuine effort to comfort him in this state adds to that. He’s never been one to show others when he’s felt emotional, hating how vulnerable he’s felt, so no one has ever been there for him in this way.

One other time in his life when he was young, soon after he joined Dutch and Hosea, did he breakdown like this. He had tried to wander off, so the two older men wouldn’t see him. But Hosea followed. And Arthur spilled his guts. About missing his mother, hating his father. About how he was beaten and stolen from while living on the streets. How he was afraid that Hosea and Dutch would leave him alone again once they see that he wasn’t worth the time. Hosea, of course, patted his back and said all the right things, calming him down and showing that he did care for him. And he insisted that Dutch cared for him, too. And Arthur believed that, truly. Had Dutch changed so much over time? Or had he just used him and his loyalty, never really caring for him?

Overcome with it all, Arthur wraps his arms around Emmeline tightly and holds her to him, trying to accept the comfort she provides. And for most of the night, they stay wrapped in each other’s arms.

Over the next few days, they have many more discussions, trying their best to make sense of everything. Every one of the talks is painful for Arthur, but it’s necessary for him. He begins to realize just how much he’s lived for Dutch during his life. And just how much he hasn’t lived for himself. When Arthur flippantly suggests that Dutch always hated to be out of control, Emmeline realizes that Dutch had been very subtly trying change her opinion of Arthur. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but the older man had always made sure to add little criticisms of Arthur when they talked. He never framed them as such, acting like they were innocuous little details, but they really weren’t. When she asks is Dutch could really be that manipulative, Arthur tells her that he certainly could be.

“Do you think that’s why he did it?” she asks as they lay on their bedrolls one night. “He just hated the thought of you having something outside of the gang? Outside of himself?”

Arthur shrugs a shoulder and turns to face her. “I think it’s possible,” he admits the painful truth. “He always loved bein’ the one everyone relied on, the one everyone looked up to. Maybe he was afraid I’d leave with you and he’d see that as going against him.”

But maybe not. Arthur will never know until he can talk with Dutch again. And he’s not sure if that’s ever going to happen.

During these days, the couple lives mostly like they had back at Emmeline’s house. Arthur spends time cutting firewood and hunting, which helps keep his mind off of things. Emmeline does her part by tending the house, as well as taking care of the chickens that they managed to wrangle and keep in the pen beside the house.

Away from the prying eyes of the gang, Emmeline doesn’t have to try so hard to hide her swollen belly. It’s still barely noticeable under her clothes, but she rather likes being free to rest her hands on her bump knowing that no one will notice. Even Arthur takes the opportunity to talk to the baby every once in a while, which Emmeline enjoys. Their isolation also means they’re more open to be affectionate with one another. It’s surprising to Emmeline just how much Arthur seeks her out for physical comfort now. She’s unsure if it’s because he is still somewhat emotional about everything, or if this is simply how he is when he doesn’t have to worry about others. Regardless, she has no complaints about the extra hugs and kisses.

It’s a bright and clear day when Arthur spies a wagon headed their way. He’s just about ready to tell Emmeline to go inside, fearful of who would seek them out, when he recognizes the riders and the two horses trailing behind.

Emmeline recognizes them, too. “Is that Hosea?” she asks with her eyes squinted, though before she gets the phrase completely out, she’s sure it’s him. She sends off a hopeful smile to Arthur, assuming Hosea has been true to his word about convincing Dutch to change his mind.

Once the wagon is close enough, Arthur calls out with a wave. “You found us.”

Hosea casts his eyes to the man sitting next to him in the driver’s seat atop the wagon. “Thank Charles. Somehow he tracked you lot. Must be the Indian in him.”

“I just remembered Arthur talking about this place.” Charles dismounts and rounds the wagon to help Hosea out of his seat. “Not too much tracking in it.”

Emmeline is first to notice how slow the older man is moving. “Are you hurt, Hosea?”

Arthur narrows his eyes at him and rushes to help him off the wagon as well. “What happened?” he’s quick to ask, alarm bells sounding in his head.

“Let’s go inside,” Hosea starts as soon as his feet are on the ground. He gestures to a cane up in the footwell of the seat and Charles hands it to him readily. “I’ll explain everything.”

Once Hosea starts to hobble into the small building (having refused any more help), it becomes obvious to Arthur that it’s Hosea’s right leg that has been injured, though he’s unsure exactly how. Instead of outright asking about it, though, he waits for Hosea to explain on his own. Once everyone is sat around the kitchen table, Hosea starts his tale.

“Dutch went ahead with that heist,” he starts plainly.

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur mutters as he scrubs his hand down his too long beard. Of course Dutch did. And Arthur assumes it didn’t go according to plan since Hosea is hurt.

The older man continues. “Bill and Javier volunteered readily. Sean, too, the fool.” Hosea shakes his head as he casts his gaze to the table.

Charles jumps in. “I was there... I just wanted to make sure no one died.” He adds, looking to Arthur, almost pleadingly. “I don’t agree with what Dutch did and I thought the job was a bad idea, same as you. The only reason I went was to try to get everyone back safe.”

Arthur nods to the man. He wouldn’t fault him for being loyal to Dutch, but he trusts what he’s saying. Charles was always a good friend to him.

“John outright refused to be a part of it,” Hosea blurts out.

That surprises Arthur. “Really?”

“Yeah. Dutch went to him right after...” Hosea takes in a heavy breath in lieu of finishing that statement. “John may not be the best at showing it, but he’s always looked up to you as his brother. What Dutch did... Most everyone was put off by it, John most of all. No one really said it, but I could tell. People made themselves scarce when it came time to assign jobs in that heist. Lenny went along with his role, thinking since it was his tip, he needed to follow through. But I convinced Dutch to let the boy help me out with the diversion instead of going to the bank itself.” After that, he pauses to order his thoughts.

Emmeline leans in, her curiosity and impatience getting the better of her. “So what happened?”

Hosea takes another moment before answering. “The police were ready for us, just like you thought,” he says to Arthur with a heavy breath. “I had a wagon full of fireworks sitting across town to try to draw them away from the bank. Once me and Lenny set them off, the cops were on us quick. Too quick. They must’ve had even more than we thought stationed all over the city, waiting for something to happen. I took a bullet to the leg trying to get away from them. Lenny had to carry me most of the way. He got shot, too. Grazed, really, but it left a nasty gash. By some grace of god we got out with our lives. I didn’t find out until later what happened at the bank.” He turns to Charles, who takes over with his side of the story.

“It started off the way we planned. Got into the vaults and found the money real quick. But we were surrounded fast trying to get away. We shot our way out of the bank then regrouped in an abandoned apartment. How none of us died, I don’t know. Sean got an ear shot off, but at least it wasn’t his head.”

Emmeline lets out a soft gasp. “So everyone’s alright then? More or less.”

Charles just stares at her a moment before continuing. “We waited until nightfall to try to make it out of the city, hoping the dark would help cover us so we could get back to camp. But there was just too many officers patrolling the streets. We knew we’d never make it to Shady Belle. Not without bring the law back with us. Dutch decided the only way to escape was to get to the docks and try to get on a ship. Lose the police and get back to camp later. There were cops there, too, of course. But not many and we figured they could led away pretty easily. So me and Sean stayed behind, drew the men away from Dutch. The last I saw, he was getting on a boat called Antenor with Bill and Javier. Me and Sean split up, lost the police and got back to camp.”

Arthur looks between the men before finally asking, “So where’s Dutch now.”

“Best guess,” Hosea starts, “on his way to Cuba.”

“Cuba?” Emmeline repeats. “How long will it take him to get back?”

“Weeks, probably.” Hosea looks from Emmeline to Arthur, waiting for him to say something, to realize what this really means.

Arthur looks at the man, but he misinterprets his look. “We can come back to camp. Without Dutch there... I can help out with everything. Get us back on track.”

Hosea just slowly shakes his head. “No, Arthur.”

“What?”

“It’s over,” Hosea answers simply. “The others... They’re leaving or are gone already. There ain’t no camp to go back to.”

Arthur shakes his head, not believing him. “What do you mean? Everyone left ?”

“Kieran, Mary Beth, and Tilly went off to Saint Denis already. Karen, Sean and the Reverend are planning on going up north to New York City. Pearson and Strauss are staying in Rhodes with Susan. And we,” he gestures to Charles, “are going up to Canada with the Marstons and Lenny.” He lets out a sigh. “I told you... what Dutch did, it broke everyone apart. Even though it was Dutch they’ve been following, you were the glue that held us all together, Arthur. And this failed heist was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Dutch...” Hosea lets out another heavy breath. “He’s not the same man he used to be. The man I used to know would have never left you behind, but now... Without Dutch here... it’s better if it’s just done .” He give’s Arthur a soft smile, though there is a sadness to it. “You stay here with Emmeline. Raise your children. Make a life , Arthur.”

“Hosea-“ the younger man starts, but Hosea’s not hearing it.

“You never had the bounty we did from that Blackwater job. The law will leave you alone. You have a real chance here.”

Arthur shakes his head. “You know they ain’t never gonna leave me alone. They ain’t left me alone my whole life.”

“They will,” Hosea throws back. “They will if you go straight, stay away. If the gang is done . The law will move on.” He lets out a heavy breath. “But if you come back, the others will, too. If you come back, the police will treat you the same as they did with Dutch. And they won’t stop. You’ll never be free. You’ll be running forever. And you’ll be dragging Emmeline and that kid with you,” he states as he points to Emmeline’s belly.

She can see the battle raging behind Arthur’s eyes. This is difficult for him, making this huge change in his life, to finally leave the gang lifestyle, once and for all. But she agrees with Hosea, all the same and hopes that Arthur will come to the same conclusion. Without knowing how to put that in words, she just places her hand atop his on the table.

He looks over to her, still unsure. Could he really let them all go? The gang that he’s seen as his family for all these years? Shouldn’t he fight for them? Shouldn’t they all be together through this?

Hosea breaks his thoughts, seemingly reading his mind in the process. “You don’t owe anyone anything, Arthur. We’ll be fine. All you have to do now is start this family of yours.” He looks to Emmeline with a soft smile. “That’s your job now.”

Arthur looks around the room at the people he cares about. When he lands on Emmeline and her big blue eyes, it’s like everything clicks in place. Hosea is right; he can’t be a father and a gunslinger. He tried living two different lives before with Mary, and it didn’t work. He couldn’t be properly invested in either life and that’s not what he wants to do with Emmeline and his child. He wants to be there for them fully.

Making his choice, he finally gives Hosea a nod. “You all keep in touch.”

Hosea lets out a sigh of relief at Arthur’s words. “We will. You staying here?”

“For the time being,” Arthur answers, though a thought crosses his mind. “What’s gonna happen when Dutch comes back?”

“I don’t know,” Hosea says with a shrug. “Hopefully he’ll see the error of his ways. But... We’ll see.” He starts to stand from the table. “Best not to dwell.”

Charles stands as well and helps the older man to his feet. “All your things from Shady Belle are in the wagon,” he directs at Arthur and Emmeline. “You can keep the wagon, too. We got another one back at camp waiting for us with the Marstons.”

Emmeline smiles at him. “Thank you, Charles.”

Once they’re all outside, Arthur insists on being the one to help Hosea onto his horse. “You take care of yourself, now. And make sure John takes care of that family of his.”

“I will,” the older man answers with a chuckle. “Even if I have to take him over my knee like I did when he was young.”

Arthur laughs at the memory. “He prolly needs it.” He sends a nod to Charles, hoping the man understands how grateful he is for everything he’s done.

Charles sends one in return before turning his horse to the road.

“Goodbye,” Emmeline calls out to the retreating men. “Write soon!” After a moment, she looks over to Arthur as he stares out at the road. “What are you thinking?”

He flicks his gaze to her. “I ain’t so sure, I guess,” he answers honestly.

She takes ahold of his hand and looks up to him. “We’ll be okay,” she declares with full confidence.

For the first time in a very long time, Arthur is in a completely new situation in his life. He doesn’t have a whole group of people to hunt for. Or have to keep his ears open in town to find a mark. Or go after a stagecoach and hope they’re carrying what they’re supposed to. And it’s different from the first time he lived with Emmeline. This isn’t temporary. This is how the rest of his life will be.

Honestly, it’s all a little daunting to have the freedom he has now. But it’s also exciting in a way. Before, he was the muscle, the hired hand and that’s it. Now, he’s going to be a father to his child, a provider to his woman. Things he never really was before.

Time goes on for the couple. After about a week, Arthur decides to ride out to nearby Emerald Ranch to inquire about a proper job. If they are going to live on their own and raise a child, money will become an issue. And it’ll have to be made legitimately from now on if he wants to keep his family truly safe.

Arthur rides up to the familiar barn on the edge of the small town and meets the owner beside it.

“Ain’t seen you in a while,” Seamus greets as he wipes his hands on his dirty leather apron. “You got anythin’ for me?” the fence asks, figuring Arthur is here to offload some gold or jewelry that managed to find themselves in his possession.

Arthur shakes his head. “Nah. I actually came here to ask ya something. You know of any jobs around here?”

Seamus leans forward a little and shifts his eyes around the immediate area for any prying ears. “I know of a stagecoach-“ he whispers, but is cut off by the man in front of him.

“I didn’t mean like that,” Arthur explains. “I meant like farm work and the like.”

Seamus raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Farm work? You?”

“Yeah,” he bites back, his temper rising.

“Alight, alright.” Seamus raises his arms to placate Arthur, not wanting to get on his bad side. “Go around to the stable and talk to Gary. He always seems to yammer on about needing extra help. He might have something for you.”

Arthur nods and starts to walk away. “Thank you,” he throws over his shoulder.

“If you find anything you ain’t got a use for,” Seamus hollers back, “you know where I am.”

Arthur walks down the street and to the stables in question, finding several people hard at work. “You know where I could find Gary?” he says to closest man he sees.

“That’s me,” the man responds. His clothes are filthy, showing that even at this early hour, he’s put in a lot of work already. “What can I do for you?” he asks as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

“Was wonderin’ if you got a job you’re hirin’ for.”

“That depends. What kinda job you lookin’ for?”

“Anything, really. I gotta pregnant woman at home and lookin’ for anything that’ll pay.”

Gary nods. He’s seen some rough people come through his small town (maybe even the man before him pulling into Seamus’s barn once or twice) that he wouldn’t be too keen with taking on. But he was raised Christian and can’t rightly turn a family man away, especially if a little one is due to come.

“I recon we could use another set of hands. And you look strong. You ever put up fencing?”

“No, sir. But if you show me, I can do it.”

“It’s hard work here,” he comments, figuring this man hasn’t done this kind of work before in his life. “You sure you want it?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Two months pass, with Arthur working six days a week doing whatever is asked of him. Mending fences, cleaning stables, hauling hay, filling troughs. Even fixed the roof on the barn that sprung a leak. The money he takes home certainly isn’t as easily gotten as what he’s used to, but it fills him with a sense of pride. Even in this short amount of time, he’s been able to save up some of that money to put toward a proper house of their own. One with land and enough room for children, hopefully. And maybe he’ll even have enough money left over to give Emmeline a ring one day.

When he gets back to the cabin every night, Emmeline has his dinner ready for him. As they eat, he tells her about his day and she listens intently, happy to have him back home. He can’t help himself from smiling at her sometimes, wondering just why a woman like her would look at him the way she does. Even if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, having her here with him fills him with a warmth he hasn’t ever really felt before.

Emmeline tries her best to make their little cabin a home. Even with her belly noticeably expanded now, she finds herself having a bit more energy than she did before and this leads to her being more active during the day. After she’s done all the cleaning and with no one else there to entertain her, she usually sits down to write her stories. Maybe no one else will ever care about them, but she loves reading Arthur her finished tales. And he always seems to like them, which makes her happy. She can’t help but be excited for the time that she will read them to her children.

One hot day as Arthur is hauling a bale of hay off to the stables at Emerald Ranch, he sees a most unwelcome man approaching him.

“Mr. Morgan,” Agent Milton calls out as he takes slow, confident steps toward him.

Arthur sets the hay down in front of the horses and turns back to the fence where Milton is now standing on the other side.

“What do you want?” he spits out as he approaches.

“Can’t a gentleman have a friendly conversation?” he throws back easily as he casually leans on the fence, one foot propped up on the bottom wrung.

“Sure. A gentleman can. But that ain’t you. So what do you want?” he repeats.

Milton lets that slide for the moment and produces a newspaper from his jacket. “You read the paper, Mr. Morgan?” he asks as he holds it up.

Arthur shakes his head in annoyance, not knowing where he’s going with this. “Not really.”

“You really should.” Milton unfolds the paper with a flourish and points to an article towards the bottom of the second page, prompting Arthur to read it. Begrudging, he takes the paper and scans the words quickly.

CARGO SHIP LOST AT SEA was the headline. Further on, Arthur reads The ship Antenor, bound for Cuba with cargo, is feared to be lost at sea. Remnants of a ship began washing ashore weeks ago, though it was unknown what vessel they came from. With news that the Antenor never made port in Havana and none of its crew having been heard from since, it’s assumed to be the vessel in question. There were reports of storms during the time of its passage, which it most likely encountered. Everyone aboard is considered lost.

Arthur’s eyes go wide. He recognizes the name. That’s the boat Charles had said Dutch, Bill, and Javier escaped on. Before Arthur can process it further, Milton speaks.

“You see, we knew it was Dutch that hit that bank in Saint Denis. We were ready for him. But somehow, he escaped the bank alive. When we finally picked up his trail, it led us to the docks. Nearest we could figure, he stowed away on on of those ships and set sail.” He points his finger down at the paper. “That was the only ship he could’ve left on. And judging by the expression on your face, you already knew that.”

Arthur looks up at the man, realizing what he’s trying to do. “I weren’t there,” he asserts.

“I know. But you still knew Dutch was. And that makes you very interesting to me.”

Arthur throws the paper back to the man, though Milton makes no move to stop it hitting his chest. “What the hell do you want with me if Dutch is dead and gone? I ain’t doing nothing that’s any of your business here. You see me workin’?” he throws his arms out to say. “That’s all I been doin’! Ask around! You gonna arrest me for feeding horses?!”

For a moment, Milton seems unfazed by the outburst. But then he leans toward Arthur and puts a scowl on his face, all pretense lost. “You may be law abiding at the moment, but I know men like you. You never change. And you certainly ain’t no family man, no matter how many children you put in that Van Der Linde bastard woman of yours back home. You’ll be back to thieving and killing soon enough.” He pulls back. “And I’ll be watching, waiting for that moment so I can bring you in and charge you with all the things Dutch missed out on.”

Without another word, Milton turns and walks away, leaving the paper strewn on the ground. Standing there, Arthur takes a moment before reaching through the fence and picking the paper up. He doesn’t even look it over again before he refolds it as best he can and shoves it in his satchel.

“Arthur!” one of the other farmhands calls out. “Could you help me over here?”

He turns to the man and nods. “Yup,” he answers and heads his way, thankful for something to occupy his thoughts. Working to keep from thinking about what just happened sounds like a great idea right now.

After the work day is done, he gets on Sparrow and starts to ride away from the ranch. He doesn’t head straight home, though. Rather, he finds a secluded wooded area and dismounts, heading through the tall trees until he finds a felled stump to sit on. Pulling out the newspaper from his satchel, he reads it over again, allowing himself to fully take in the words on the page this time.

Dutch was on that ship. And it was lost with no survivors. Javier... Bill... Dutch ... all gone. Dead. He’ll never see them again. Never...

It had taken Arthur a while to fully settle into his life outside of the gang. But he had always thought there’d be time to fix things with Dutch. To at least have some sort of relationship, even if it wasn’t the same as it was. But that will never happen now. All Arthur can think about is that Dutch went to his watery grave hating him. The man that was more of a father to him than his own father hated him in the end. And he can never make it right now.

As Arthur rereads the article for the umpteenth time, he feels tears prickle beneath his eyelids. No matter how hard he tries to hold them back, the emotion finally breaks through, like floodwaters overwhelming a dam. He openly sobs thinking about how he’s going to tell Emmeline about this. And what he’ll say to Hosea, too. Even if they were both mad at Dutch, he knows they never would have wanted him dead. Despite the man Dutch had become, he would always be, in part, the man that raised him, the decades long partner in crime to Hosea, the man that helped bring Emmeline into this world. He was important to them all and his loss will surely hurt for years to come.

“Damnit, Dutch,” he chokes out as he wipes the tears from his eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you listen...”

He stays there for nearly an hour purging his emotions before steeling himself to head home. As he rides up to the cabin, he scrubs his handkerchief over his face to make sure he looks as normal as possible. Once he gets Sparrow all situated on the makeshift hitch he made for the horses beside the house, he opens the door to his home and sees Emmeline stand from her seat at the table to greet him.

“You’re late,” she says, but the look on his face tells her it’s for a reason. “What happened?”

He takes a heavy breath and wills his voice to be strong. “It’s...” He looks away from her and unfolds the newspaper from his satchel, handing it over. “It says that ship Dutch was on-“

She starts to read over the article, but doesn’t have to get much further than the headline to realize why Arthur is upset. “This is the ship-?”

He nods. “He’s... They’re-“

He can’t finish the statement, but she understands all the same what Dutch’s fate was. Even with what happened, Emmeline had similar hopes as Arthur regarding her father. She wanted him to come to his senses and reconcile with them. Not just for Arthur’s sake, but to be in his grandchild’s life, too. She had hoped they could have a real extended family with all the aunts and uncles and cousins that could go along with it. But that’s not meant to be, it seems.

Instantly, she begins to cry. And once she looks up to Arthur with tears in her eyes, he’s quick to bring her into a hug, choosing to focus on her rather than wallowing in his own hurt at the moment.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” she sobs into his chest then pulls back to look up at him. “Are they really sure?”

He swallows hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “They put it in the paper,” he replies weakly.

“I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s... they’re gone.” She steps back to look up at Arthur and sees the hurt behind his eyes. “This is just so awful.”

He nods slightly, unable to think of what else to say.

Blinking rapidly, she tries to wrap her head around all of this. “At least we know, I suppose. If you hadn’t read the paper, we would always be wondering where they were.”

“Actually,” Arthur starts, a little relieved to switch this conversation into a different direction before his emotions would get the best of him again, “I didn’t just read it. Agent Milton showed it to me.”

Her eyes go wide with shock. “What? The Pinkertons found us?”

“Yeah,” he answers lowly. “At least Milton did, anyways. And he told me in no uncertain terms that he’ll be ready to lock me up at the drop of a hat.”

“You ain’t been doing nothing bad, though.”

“I know. But with men like him... that don’t matter much. I think he’s just out for revenge now.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’m thinkin’ we should leave. Go someplace they won’t think we would.”

“We could go up to Canada. Meet up with Hosea and John and all them.”

“Nah. It’s too late in the year. We head that far north, we’ll get stuck in the snow. It wouldn’t be too good for you and the baby.”

“So where then?”

He thinks a moment. “South. Blackwater.”

“Blackwater? Really?”

“I reckon they’d think I wouldn’t set foot there again. So it might be our best bet.”

She nods after a moment. “Okay. We should do that.”

“There’s a lot of land around there. Enough for us to raise some animals, prolly.”

“I’d like that,” she replies with a small smile. “Enough room for a family, too.”

He smiles back and says, “Sure. I suppose we’re gonna need that sooner than later.” He steps to her and lays his hand on her baby bump. “This cabin was always too small for us. Add another one and we’ll be walkin’ on top of each other. And you ain’t gonna be able to get up the latter to bed pretty soon.”

She laughs then gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I like the thought of our own farm. And you could raise horses. You always loved working with them.”

He lets himself daydream about all that for a moment. And despite the stressful events of the day and the sadness they brought, it brings a smile to his face. Owning his own farm or ranch- owning his own land - will be a completely new experience for him, but he’s realizing that it’s one he wants desperately.

“That sounds perfect,” he replies as he brings her in for a hug. “Just perfect.”

#of sons and daughters #writehavoc Of Sons and Daughters #rdr2 #rdr #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan / oc #arthur morgan x original female character #Arthur Morgan / Original Female Character #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2

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wilhelmjfink · 5 years

Text

All Efforts in Vain - Pt. 1

Hindsight is always 20/20.

Daryl x Reader

He’d tried so god damned hard — harder than anybody else there had — harder than her own mother had tried. She’d damn near given up after a week it seemed, losing hope and just moping around, feeling sorry for herself. It infuriated him to no end, because he didn’t understand why. At first, it seemed lazy, weak, pathetic of her to just stop trying. But after that lifeless little girl shuffled out of that barn, cloudy and hollow eyes still squinting at the bright sunlight, the mixture of adult teeth and baby teeth she’d had yet to lose and hide for the tooth fairy still inside her snapping jaws, he’d realized something: she was right to have lost hope so early on.

And it was also obvious to him then that it didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t care about losing her daughter. The opposite, actually; he’d managed to grab onto her before she sprinted right into the arms of the last few walkers dwindling out of the barn in a fit of shock and heartbroken devastation. He felt that pain as he held her and she flailed and hit him in unwarranted anger towards his actions. She knew he’d tried harder than anybody else.

Except that one girl.

He’d hardly learned her name — she’d told him, twice maybe, but he couldn’t seem to remember. Which was odd for him, usually pretty good with faces, recognizing little features or quirks in people that he’d learn to associate with a name. But all he could seem to remember was vivid images of her smiling at him the first time they’d crossed paths, and how her bright eyes glistened in the early morning sun when she looked at him. He could remember her laugh, too, and even when he heard in from the farthest pasture over, he could clearly see that smile with it and it made him feel... something.

He didn’t know what, so he’d shoved it down for another day, maybe when he’d have more time to worry about stupid and unnecessary shit like that — which he didn’t imagine would be anytime soon.

But when the gunshot rung out and Carol had broken free from his grasp to sprint towards little Sophia’s crumpled body, a new sound had hit Daryl with a similar abstract emotion he’d buried away long ago, and it had even somehow managed to distract him from the horrific sight. Even though he’d never heard it before he knew exactly what it was and the second it hit his ears he felt cold, angry — furious... but he didn’t know why, and that only made it worse.

The moment his group arrived at her farm she’d shown him nothing but kindness in an odd, aloof sort of fashion -- the kind of behavior that he appreciated from people: distance, respect, an unspoken but mutual agreement of personal space. She’d trailed behind him more than once while he searched for Sophia, keeping silent unless she had something important to offer up, which is what he preferred from a companion anyway. And it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, either. That should’ve been his first hint, but he was so fixated on finding that little girl, he’d disregarded any odd feelings she’d given him and instead focused on the task at hand.

The time the horse threw him and he got impaled with his own arrow, she’d been the first one he’d seen upon his return to the farm. She’d ran to him, eyes wide and full of fear, hands moving to his face so quickly he’d flinched in reaction. Kindly, though, she’d retracted, as to not startle him, like he was some stray animal she wanted to capture and domesticate. She’d had only good intentions, of course, terrified at the sight of him then, and rightfully so; moments after, Andrea had grazed his head with that bullet mistaking him for a walker. The force had thrown him backwards and he landed hard on his back, senses knocked awry for a few painfully long moments of delirium and he still couldn’t acknowledge that he’d heard her scream his name in fear. And once the fog cleared and he’d woken up later inside the farm house, he’d been struck with one thought: was she okay?

She had the same look of shock and horror watching little Sophia meander outside of the old barn amongst the carnage of the other fallen walkers. The heavy Bowie knife had fallen from her grasp with a dull thud into the soft ground beneath her feet, her hands releasing it against her will as they flew to her mouth, open in shock, trying to stifle the pathetic sob she choked out. And somehow, it was the saddest sound Daryl had ever heard.

He didn’t know what to do then. He was overwhelmed with so many different emotions all swirling around him like a tornado and he couldn’t just pick one — which made it considerably hard to choose an outlet in which to release all of that pent up energy that was only growing more and more unruly each second. Should he go to Carol? No — she was already upset with him after he’d refused to allow her to run to Sophia as she emerged slowly from the old barn, confirming everybody’s worse fears. And she was still sobbing behind him where he was standing; and he glanced over his shoulder at her to find the devastation and utter heartbreak she emitted just seemed to make the situation far too much for him to handle. And he got angry. And he left.

Well, he’d tried.

With Merle gone his subconscious began to speak up without the fear of just being shut right back down. The life of constant belittling and disregarding had taken its toll on Daryl and only without the older Dixon around to speak for him and make all of his decisions, he found more often than not he’d heard that little voice inside his head telling him to do the right thing for once in his pathetic life. And it just so happened that, in that case, the right thing was not leaving behind Carol, and not leaving behind the girl. Why? He had no fucking clue.

So when he’d found her standing outside of his tent the following evening with a bowl of soup and some fresh baked bread in her hands, he’d been just as confused.

“I didn’t see you at dinner,” she’d said quietly, setting the bowl beside him on the makeshift bench he’d crafted himself. He hardly tore his eyes away from the campfire he’d built — he flames were mesmerizing, and he was worried that, should he look to her, she might entrance him as well and he wouldn’t be able to look away from her, either. “So, I brought you some... in case you were hungry.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to. He didn’t ask for dinner to be brought to him — and why did she care whether or not he ate?

“It’s Daryl, right?”

His eyes snapped up at her and he swore he could see her flinch at the intensity behind his glare. It wasn’t intentional and he instantly felt bad, the way her eyes held the heat and the reflections of the flames that flickered shadows on and off of her face, she looked so pure, so innocent, so... beautiful.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, teeth gnawing on his thumbnail apprehensively. His heart skipped a beat when she smiled sweetly at him, though it lasted but a second before disappearing. What did she want with him?

“You did more for that little girl than her own mother did,” she said softly. He held his breath, waiting for her to continue — and if she didn’t, what was he supposed to say to that? Yeah, he’d thought the same damn thing — but it was still all in vain. “Maybe children don’t stand a chance alone in this world, but... she had far better chances than anyone else would with you behind her.” She paused as he took in her words. “And maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you now, but it means something to me.”

Not giving him a chance to respond, she turned and walked away, leaving him alone and even more confused than before.

Why did it feel like, had it been anyone else that would have approached him offering food and solace such as that, it would’ve simply pissed him off? With her, it did the opposite, but everything inside of him was still telling him to get angry. To get defensive and shut her out, right then and there, refusing to let her sneak inside his head anymore than she already had. It was already too much for him — too uncomfortable to accept that behavior from somebody who shouldn’t want to give him the time of day. He wasn’t worth it. And she was an anomaly. She was mysterious and her aura was so warm and welcoming to him and he felt strangely comfortable with her nearby and that was all very new to him. New and unsettling but at the same time, she was intriguing and inviting.

He’d woken up that morning with a different attitude than he’d gone to sleep with the night before — gone to sleep, of course, being said lightly, as he’d spent the long night staring up at the roof of his tent listening to the crickets chirping until the pattering of summer rain replaced them — because he’d had far too many things going through his mind. He usually did, but this night in particular was different, as he’d never been tormented by memories of smiles and bright eyes and adoration. And though he wouldn’t say the mood he’d begun the day in was good, it was certainly better than it had been the night before.

That was, until, he’d made the mistake of joining the group for breakfast inside the Greene‘s kitchen, where everything had evidently already began to unfurl before he’d even opened the door all the way. Panic and working and speculation... and when he noticed she was the only one absent, he’d forgotten about trying to reinforce those safe and secure walls inside of his heart and head because they’d instantly crumbled at the notion that she may very well be in trouble. And this time, his efforts would not be in vain.

part 1! stay tuned for part 2 :-)

haven’t thought of an idea for a cover yet either.... hm.....

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